On Cows

The family made a trip to the ancestral village (and many many temples) last weekend. I jumped at the opportunity, ofcourse. It was my one big chance to write that moving documentary on India’s Rural Landscapes, which would eventually pave it’s way into becoming the inspiration behind the script of the next Bharatiraaja movie, and stand as our family’s greatest achievement, and maybe even overshadow 1970s-IIT athimber’s letter to The Hindu. “Did you hear?” they would say in the next family gathering (I say gathering and not get together/function, because ours gossips at deaths too. But not about the deceased of course. We save that for the next death. Keep it classy, people) “She wrote a moving documentary on the rural landscapes of India which eventually paved it’s way into becoming the inspiration for the next Bharatiraaja movie!” 
“Really? How nice. Did you hear Calcutta Paati’s grand daughter eloped?” 
Because you know, only a true achievement would be discussed before someone eloping. 
Unfortunately, the only landscape I got to investigate the entire weekend was that of my digestive system’s since I had (most predictably) succumbed to travel sickness. But, but. During my  fleeting stay in the village I discovered something that could change my life forever. 
Cows. 
Lots of cows. Managing cows. Mooing cows. Healthy cows. Cheese. Paneer. Milk. Ramaraj. Maybe not Ramaraj, but it was definitely something that could change my life forever. Even if it didn’t, it seemed like a pretty great excuse to sell to my father at that time to avoid the heart burn/attack/pain/brain hemorrhage etc of writing CA Final in case I flunked again, which was a very real possibility.  
“Appa, who takes care of all these cows?”
“In the village, I think every one has their own set of cows. I don’t think one person owns them all.”
“Is there a Dairy Farm close by?”
“No, I don’t think so. But considering the number of cows here, and the space available, there should be.”
“I think I should start one. It would be a great alternate career if results aren’t in my favor.”
“Hahahahahaha! Definitely. If you’d known this was what you wanted to do before, you needn’t have studied so much! But let me ask you something, you’re sure you’ll go around telling people that you’re taking care of a bunch of cows?”
“Ha. I thought about this, so I came up with an excellent name for my organization.  I’ll call it Kamalapuram Pasu Management Group. So if anyone asks anything, I’ll be like Oh, I’m the Director at KPMG!” 
My father laughed uproariously for twenty minutes.

“Hehe.” I offered.

“You’re joking only no?”

“Not really.”

And he laughed for twenty more. 

PS: BY THE BYS! Results did turn out in my favour! I’m a Chartered Accountant now! But I still think the Dairy Farm is a great idea.
PPS: Pasu is tamil for cow.

Birthday Bumps

I turned thirteen not too long ago. Fine, close to 10 years ago. I don’t remember much of how I was at that time, which, knowing me, is probably a good thing, but what I do remember is my thirteenth birthday. 

Very clearly. 
My parents had just arranged for what they called a  “small family get together”, which in our family’s case almost always translates into a mini mob of close to 70 people. So there I was, birthday girl, in my orange shirt and super flare grey jeans (I just confirmed that with the photos) which made me look about 2 feet shorter and wider simultaneously, being all happy and birthday girl like and getting a lot of cash from wallet-happy relatives while waiting for more wallet-happy relatives to assemble so that I could cut my beautiful cake. No seriously, it was beautiful. It was yellow, with white frosting and it had my name on it. I was in love. Let me clarify something here – when I was 13, actually, even 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, I had a love-love relationship with food, which explained my extraordinarily startling resemblance to a sintex tank. Then things changed, but more on that later. 
Fifteen long minutes of staring at the cake later, the crowd had gathered, the candles had been lit, a bunch of 3 year olds next to me had started licking the icing off the sides and my mom handed me the knife. I blew the candles out among the awkward singing, when my 6 year old sister started screaming, and it wasn’t just any kind of screaming, it was the kind of high pitched screaming that should be patented for use by ambulances and firetrucks. The crowd became silent. She didn’t stop screaming. And then there were tears. And screaming. 
My mother was the first to react. “Did you stamp her foot?” she asked me. 
Thanks mom. 
“No!” 
“Then what is the issue?” 
“Ask her!” 
“Kannamma. What’s the issue?” 
Sidenote: Don’t you just hate it when a birthday ruining brat is called cute names? 
“Ammmaaa.” She said in between sobs. “She’s cutting the cake! ” 
“Yes, kuttima. It’s her birthday no?” 
“But I want to cut the cake!”
“Your birthday was in January, remember? You cut a big cake no?” 
“Noooo” she cried and started bawling even louder.  
My mother picked her up and tried to calm her down by calling her some more cute baby names and some enthu relatives even gave her birthday money (when it wasn’t even her birthday!). I tried to quickly cut the cake while she was distracted by the money, but there was no escaping her CIA spy camera eyes because the moment I picked the knife up, she started wailing again. 
My father finally decided to intervene. “You have to do something about her voice! My glasses are about to shatter any second.”
“I’m trying! Kutti, you can also cut the cake ok? Let Akka cut, and then you cut. Ok?” 
More screaming. 
“Enough!” my father proclaimed. I was overjoyed. Finally, the brat could be locked up until my party was over. 
“Lavanyaaaaa, let Vathoo cut the cake no? Look at her, she won’t stop crying. Be mature now. You’re grown up no?” 
“But Appaa..”
“Please? You’re a ChamathuKutti* no?” 
And so, the ChamathuKutti, very very reluctantly handed over the knife to the now beaming, evil, little birthday spoiling monster to cut the cake. Like, between the two of us, I’d have rather been the Cut-The-Cake-Kutti than the ChamathuKutti. 
That was in 2002. Flash forward to this Friday, 6th January 2012, when my sister celebrated her all important 16th Birthday. The cake arrived right on time for the party and this is what it looked like.
Moral of the Story : Karma loves only ChamathuKuttis. 
*Chamathu Kutti – Generally obedient and sweet little kid which I totally am, by the way. 

Happy Holidays!

One of my favourite December memories was when my sister was 7, and she had just seen her first “Christmas Celebration” show in school. The show has been pretty standard all these years – carols and the nativity play with Pre KG Gabriel groupies (I am also very disappointed to say that I had never been chosen to be one of the Gabriel groupies despite being one of the cutest kids in my batch. There are some people who think that it was probably because I might have bit Baby Jesus but like hello, Baby Jesus is a plastic doll! Plastic dolls were made to be bit, and most importantly, BITING IS A TOTALLY ACCEPTED HABIT WHEN YOU’RE FIVE, OKAY. Moving on).  

Ofcourse,  my sister’s LET’S GET A CHRISTMAS TREE! enthusiasm for the festival was put off by my visibly flustered mother who told her it wouldn’t really be possible because Jesus Christ wasn’t Iyengar.  
“Is Santa Claus at least Iyengar?” prodded my down-but-not-out sister. 
My mother answered in the negative, but when I think about it today, my sister’s question has incredible possibilities. 
Merry Margazhi from Santhanam Claus of North Mada Street

Also, since you didn’t ask for it – Santhanam Claus Stothram:
Oh you better watch out
Learn Thirupaavai 
Do Sandhi three times
I’m telling you why
Santhanam Claus is comin’ to town! 
He’s making a list 
And checking it twice,
Been spying on you
Since the last Chittirai
Santhanam Claus comin’ to town!
He sees you when you’re smoking
He knows it’s meat you ate 
He knows if you’ve been a-bhishtoo
So be good for umaachi’s sake! 
Merry Margazhi and Happy New Thai!

Belated thoughts on 7 am Arivu

It’s way too late for a review, blame it on the exams, but I finally did see the movie yesterday. This isn’t a review, more like random disjointed thoughts, which, if you’ve been reading this blog long enough, would know is my specialty. 
1. I’ll be honest with you guys. I really like watching movies with good looking actors in it. You know, theres like the big screen, then there’s this gorgeous face that smiles at you (ok, so it’s the camera but a girl can wish). Sometimes I overlook glitches or logical fallacies in the movie just because the actors look nice. Yes, I am shallow.Which is why it’s so appalling that even these completely gorgeous leads (Surya is super hot, and Shruti Haasan, like whoa) couldn’t distract you from the movie’s plot line. 
2. It’s a brave attempt, no two thoughts about that – trying to feed genetic engineering to an audience that whole heartedly accepts Premgi to be an IIT-ian or Tamanna to be Theni ponnu. But Genetic engineering, Pallava history, Tamil pride, Tamils in Sri Lanka AND biological warfare? 
3. The first 20 minutes are great – Surya is shirtless most of the time, so. 
4. Harris Jayaraj’s music is really annoying the crap out of me these days. There’s Oh ringa ringa which sounds exactly like that Damak song from Aadhavan which sounds like Yaethi Yaethi from Vaaranam Aayiram which sounds like Pala Pala from Ayan and so on and so forth and finally leads to Oh mama mama from his debut movie Minnale. Another super recycled tune is that sad Ponamma song which sounds exactly like Anjala from Vaaranam Aayiram. I mean, his professional integrity with respect to not recycling anybody else’s tunes but his own is very commendable, but it’s really about time he came up with a new set of tunes to recycle because this is just extremely tiresome. 
5. Operation Red is hilarious. Especially the Indian guys dubbing for the Chinese. I am not sure if this is a valid comparison but the Indian guy speaking English with wannabe Chinese accent was like really really bad Gobi Manchurian. I wish Murugadoss had just let them speak their language and provided subtitles (a la Gautham Menon in Vettaiyaadu Villayaadu) or even dubbed over (like in the scene were Johnny Nguyen speaks to his teacher in China) because this was super contrived. 
6. Johnny Tri Nguyen as Dong Lee is nice looking and has performed well. Only wished he had opposed to his character’s name. I mean, the possibilities for Dong Lee jokes are endless. 
7. The graphics and visual effects are awful. It’s not Dasavatharam awful, but it could have been so much better considering the star cast and the director. 
8. The preachiness of this movie really gets you after the first few times. I mean, I get that Murugadoss is trying to douse the wannabe “I am talk English so I am madarn gais” subculture but after a point you just want to slap your forehead and go “Yenna Koduma Saravanan Idhu!” to the person sitting next to you. Which I suggest you don’t try unless you know the person sitting next to you. 
9. Finally, should you watch this movie if you haven’t already? I say, watch it, but on DVD. 

Ohnoez

Less than 48 hours to go for my next crack at the CA final, I figured I’d write down how I’m feeling.

Am I nervous? No. Already done this once.

Am I happy? No, for the same reason.

So what I’m really feeling is a bit of resentment, a little regret but mostly hunger. I had dinner early today.

Hmm.

ANYWAY, just wanted to say hi, and share my favourite motivational video.

It’s a bit of a thank you for being so nice to me when I’ve been completely awful for not updating as often as I should. I’ve not really had the easiest year you know. So instead of asking me why I’m not updating, you guys should probably just pray for me to pass (atleast) this time.

A Good Speech

I love a good speech.
It’s amazing, the power that a good speaker possesses. In his element, he can make you believe that he has moved a mountain using his little finger. Even better are the speakers who make you believe that YOU can move a mountain with your little finger.
My favourite teachers have always been excellent speakers. Every time, before an examination was about to start, they’d deliver a mandatory rhetoric about how we were like race horses, like generals before battle, and how, if we trusted ourselves enough, we were capable of everything and anything that we have ever dreamed of, and more. We were bound to fulfil our destiny.

I love a good speech.
When you listen to someone who has more faith in you than yourself, you want to stand up and say, YES! I am everything that you just said I was.

I love a good speech.
Motivation fills it’s way through your bloodstream and finds itself in your brain, waking up all the little brain cells which were snoozing until now. “Wake up!” says motivation. “There is no time! We must get up, we are like race horses! We must get up, we are like generals before a war! Arise and fulfil your destiny!” Your brain is immediately filled with great buzz. We have a new leader! The brain cells seem to say, and get into work, their energy which had been so diligently conserved, finally put into use.

Half an hour later, you hear his voice.

“What’s the point?”

“I am like a prize race horse fulfilling my destiny!”

“No you’re not. You’re a 22 year old girl whose destiny is to make dosas. That is reality, that is the truth.”

“That is not the truth.”

“Really? Let’s try again. What’s the point?”

You don’t know. And he knows it.

“I love a good speech too darling, but be happy while you still can, go, watch a movie or something”

As Laziness walks back in, Motivation walks out. But the speech stays in memory.

iPhone App Test

So blogger finally decided to make an app for the iPhone. Better late than never no? Here’s to hoping I find the time.

The Boredom Of Ravana

This is the first mythology based short story that I am writing. I really hope you like it. 🙂 



One fine day, a really, really, long time ago, the great Demon King Ravana sat upon his throne in his island kingdom of Lanka. His ten hands stroked his ten chins, deep in thought. After he decided that stroking all his chins was not going to provide a solution, he called his minister, the wise rakshasa Saranu.
“Tell me, Saranu” He boomed.
“Yes, Your Greatness”
“Am I not the best king in the three worlds?”
“There is no doubt, My Lord.”
“Have I not conquered everyone who is to be conquered?”
“Every one, Your Greatness”
“Am I not number one?”
“Well ofcourse, Sire. May I ask what seems to be troubling your royal highness?”
Ravana looked around to make sure there was no one else in his court. He sighed a loud sigh and buried all of his faces into all his palms.
“I am bored. BORED! The wine, the women, the revelry, the dancing, even the skies! They’re all boring!”
“Perhaps, you need a vacation, Sire. A change of place.”
“I thought of that. But where? The heavens? That Indra is so annoying, he’ll make even a vacation into a war just so that he can ride that elephant of his. He may not be weary of losing to me, I don’t blame him, after all, what is a greater honour than falling to the most mighty ruler in the cosmos? But there is no fun in torturing the idiot Devas anymore. And the Mortal realms? Bah! Those puny human lands bore me with their puniness. I find doing my morning business more challenging.”
“Maybe you should try, the, um, puny monkey lands.”
“Monkey lands?”
“Yes, your terribleness. It is said that the Monkey Lands of Kishkindha are quite a treat to the eye. And who knows, they might make a good colony. I heard their old king Vaali is back.”
“The old king is back? What happened to the other monkey? What’s his name…some Sageera”
“Sugriva, sire.”
“Yes, that weakling.”
“Vaali took it back from him.” The minister lowered his voice. “Gossip says that it wasn’t just the Kingdom he took from his brother, but his wife too.”
Ravana’s ten heads shook as he giggled. (I know what you’re thinking, but let me tell you that Rakshasas giggle too.)
“This monkey is after my own heart. Imagine his delight when he finds out that I, Ravana, The Great King of Lanka, The Conqueror of the Three Worlds, The Bearer of Shiva’s Sword, The Terrifying Ten Headed …headed..”
“….Terror, My Lord! The Terrifying Ten Headed Terror!”
“Yes! I thought of that. The Terrifying Ten Headed Terror making a visit to Kishkindha! Ravana, The Rakshasa whom the universe comes to worship, visiting! I am sure that he would be weeping tears of joy if he could listen to this.”
“Your modesty has always awed us all, my Lord.”
“Summon the Pushpaka Vimana!”
—————————————————–
The Pushpaka Vimana was one of it’s kind, and Ravana found it fitting that he should seize it from his Half-Brother Kubera, because after all, he was one of a kind too. As the enchanted chariot soared across the skies, the Demon King surveyed the mortal lands below them.
“So plain…so plain. How do people live here?”
“Not everyone has the blessing to be in the beautiful Lanka under your direct rule, Sire”
“I’ll say. I have no idea why my cousins roam around here. But hehe, that Tataka has a wonderful sense of humour, there was this one time…” He stopped abruptly. “What is happening there?”
“It seems like a celebration My Lord. Looks like the Ikshvaku Princes have come of age”
“Heh. Let them celebrate while they still can. They are going to get killed by one of our clan soon, anyway.”
“My Lord, there is this one prince. He goes by the name Rama, is said to be the shade of the rain clouds and is training to be the finest warrior in their race. They have prophesied many great things about him.”
“Stuff and nonsense Saranu! I’d like to see him survive Tatu’s breath in the mornings. These humans, they are wimps. Completely useless. Brahma knows why they were even created. Speaking of, have I told you about the time Brahma granted me the boon of invincibility?”
“Only a few million times, Your Greatness. But it seems like a new story every time you say it.”
“Yes Saranu. There I was, after three thousand years of penance, ready to chop my last head off, when Brahma decided that he couldn’t find a more worthy beneficiary and appeared before me, bowed before me and proclaimed that he was ready to give me whatever I wanted!”
“And what did you ask for, my Lord?”
“Oh you know me, Saranu. I am a simple Rakshasa with simple desires. I asked for invincibility! But you know these Gods. Brahma hung his head in shame when he told me that he couldn’t grant me, the one of the greatest penance, invincibility! What could I do?”
“What DID you do, sire?”
“I may have been frustrated, but I was too intelligent to be let down! So I told Brahma – It is fine if you cannot give me invincibility, O Brahma, but grant that I may never be defeated by any God or Demon!”
“Your wisdom and grace are beyond us all, Your Greatness.”
“Yes, I am aware. And that, Saranu,  has made me the most Invincible..”
“Monkey!”
“What?”
“Sire, the Monkey! On the shore, praying! It is Vaali himself.”
“Ah, so we are in Kishkindha! Land Pushpaka!”
——————————————————————————
Pushpaka landed to a silent halt and Ravana descended on to the shore, waiting to be received. Vaali didn’t budge.
Ravana coughed with his one head.
Vaali didn’t budge.
Ravana coughed with all ten of his heads.
Vaali didn’t budge.
“The insolent monkey!” thought Ravana. “Ignoring me, the greatest and most powerful being in all three worlds! He must be humbled.”
The Demon King walked up to the rock where Vaali was praying, grabbed his tail….and got tangled in it.
Before he could understand what was happening, the monkey king flew from the eastern shore, to the western shore to offer more prayers, taking the Lord of Lanka along for the ride.
As Vaali dived into the waters for his holy dip, Ravana was dunked into the waters as well, tail all around him.
“Monkey!” he called out. “You puny little monkey! Take your tail off me!” But Vaali was too engrossed in prayers to notice.
Ravana tugged, Ravana pushed and Ravana pulled, only to find the tail growing longer, and more twisted. As he tried to set himself free, Vaali decided that it was time for him to offer his respects to the Gods from the northern mountains.
Vaali soared across the skies, again, carrying the Demon King, now completely knotted in his tail, along with him.
The more Ravana tried to break free, the more Vaali’s tail coiled.
Up went Vaali, Up went Ravana.
Down went Vaali, Down went Ravana.
Vaali took sharp lefts, Vaali took sharp rights, and with every passing minute, Ravana began to experience a kind of nausea that was as severe as his penance to Brahma. By the time Vaali finished his prayers in the northern mountains and the southern shores, he was completely convoluted, completely stuck and completely exhausted.
As Vaali headed back to Kishkindha, into his royal palace, the very queasy Demon King in his tail realized that the only way to get out, was to get Vaali himself to uncoil him.
“Help!” he called out.
“Hark! Who goes there?”
“I am here!”
Vaali spun around. No one.
“Who dares play tricks on me? Show yourself!”
“I am here! I am here!”
“Where? Where!”
“In your…tail”
Vaali turned his back to find his tail gathered into a rather enormous lump. He slowly uncoiled it to reveal ten very tired (and rather green) heads.
“The Lord of Lanka?”
“Yes! Yes! Set me free! Please!”
Vaali Paused.
“What are you thinking about?! Please set me free!”
“Did the Lord of Lanka just say please?”
“Yes! Please! Let me out!”
Vaali unraveled the rest of his tail to set the Rakshasa free.
Ravana rose to his feet, a little dizzy. “I have done the most severe austerities for the greatest lengths of time. I have conquered the three worlds. I have been blessed by Shiva himself to bear his sword. And yet…and yet..your tail!”
“How did you get in there, sir?”
Ravana opened his mouth to tell him about how he had wanted to take the Monkey King by his tail and throw him into the depths of the cosmos for ignoring him, him who was the conqueror of the three worlds….when he noticed Vaali’s tail twitch in an I-might-just-take-you-for-another-ride kind of way.
“Er…It must have been a cosmic intervention! A divine happening!”
“Indeed! And I am blessed to make your acquaintance. Good sir, I give you my deepest apologies if I had upset you anywhere”
Ravana thought for a minute about the way his stomach churned during his flight, as if Lord Nataraja himself was dancing in it. “Haha! Nonsense! It was like floating in the clouds!”
“I am glad you are not hurt. Would you like something to drink, sir?”
“It is all right, Vaali. Your hospitality pleases me, but I must be off now. I have many important things to do in Lanka, being the conqueror of the three worlds isn’t an easy job you know!”
“I can only imagine sir. You must come again. As long as I am here, Kishkindha will always be a friend of Lanka.”
—————————————————————-
“My Lord!”
“Saranu.”
“Tell me, my Lord, what happened? Were they petrified by your presence? Terrorized by your ten heads? Cowed by the Conqueror of the Three Worlds? Bullied by the…”
“Saranu.”
“Yes, Your Terribleness.”
“Be honest with me. Did you see what happened?”
“Er…Y-Yes, My Lord. But I must say that even in your flight in entwined form, you were like a glorious comet that was soaring..er… in reverse!”
Ravana groaned. “I was humbled by a monkey! A MONKEY! Do you know what this means?”
A very long pause later, Saranu spoke – 

“On the bright side, My Lord – at least you are not bored anymore.”

——————————-

Bullets

Some people were asking me to write and some other people were asking me if I was too busy to. The thing was, I used to be all My-Blog-Grammatically-Correctest and made a decision that if I ever were to write blogs and all, they had to be like publishable. Then I realized that I don’t really have anything like that the last three years I have been writing here anyway, so yes, I’m afraid all of you all have no choice but to put up with another update of my life you didn’t really ask for.

1. I just realized all the cool people are doing and saying what all the uncool people were/are doing and saying to be cool. I am sure all of you all have noticed the widespread usage of worst spellings and SunMusic I love you Arthy by G.Siva SMS language floating around in all these social networks and being used by cool people. I had always been one uncool only, but one word which I have major issues against, but everyone (cool people also!) seems to be using is Hai. There is something about that spelling which disturbs me. This is the first time I’m saying it out loud, by the way. Had I said it before, I assume my extremely well educated, late grandfather would have made me sit down for a sermon about how I am being unnecessarily elitist and how the French spell and pronounce Anglaish worse than the Indians do, but they’re proud of the fact that they can speak a language apart from French and never poke fun of their countrymen but we’re the ones who do and also that Hi isn’t even a proper word to have a proper spelling and that I should be proud of the fact that we came up with the phonetically superior spelling, much like the Americans who came up with program and color instead of programme and colour.

I am glad we never had that discussion. Also, Hai (Two Ramya Iyengar Bakery sandwiches says you cringed).

2. I am sure all of you all are aware of the fact that the family put one numbers trip to our Ancestral Village, the village where aforementioned grandfather was born. If you weren’t, it’s ok. My family put one numbers trip to our Ancestral village. I had always been of the opinion that Thamizh Movies exaggerated the whole village scene but I got mild metaphorical current shock when I realized that they don’t. The village I went to looked just like the one in that 1980s movie where Ramaraj has all these unnatural feelings for Cows. And Kanaga. We went to the Banks of one of the tributaries (8th standard geography I remember, see) of  Kaveri/Cauvery/Caveri/Kauvery as well. It was very smelly, but it was also very cool. Maybe it was the smell of coolness.

3. Then what. Oh yes. I worked in my father’s office for a couple of weeks on an assignment. I had two other colleagues working with me. One played the mridangam and the other was 7 feet tall. But both of them were petrified of my father so I was very glad to know that we shared common ground.

4. I hope all of you all aren’t of the opinion that I write numbered paragraphs all the time. Because I don’t. Sometimes I put bullets.

5 reasons why it’s probably a good idea to deactivate your facebook account

5. Because everyone else is having a better time than you are
The home feed is a constant source of depression. Everyone else is going to more exotic places than you are, getting haircuts that are better than yours and of course, partying. There are DJs, there are shiny dance floors, multicolored drinks, hazy pictures of too much fun had and of course, that invisible, but strong reminder that the last “party” I went to involved a 6 year old cutting cake and Winnie the Pooh. On the bright side, I did get a picture with Winnie the Pooh.
4. Because Facebook knows all the people you never liked in School and wants you to be friends with them. 
For the last time, I don’t want to add R.Srivatsan who was my bench-partner in V-B for 4 days as a friend. Especially because he changed schools right after stealing my brand new Hero pen. That pretty much sealed the end of our friendship right there. Also.
3. Because Facebook is not a pleasant place when you’re academically incompetent (Like me)
Just when you come on to Facebook to get your mind off your exam results, the first story on your feed is some moron with an AATHA! NA PASS AAYITEN!* status. There is obviously something wrong with the system.
2. Because Facebook loves to remind you that you’re not getting any younger
If your friends aren’t getting married, they’re probably having babies, that kid who used to take “how to play with Barbie” lessons from you is celebrating the 6 month anniversary with her second boyfriend and apparently, 18 ’til I die is just a song.
1. Because Facebook is the new TamilMatrimony
The other day, my mother was on the phone with an aunt, and the subject of discussion was the ongoing “looking” process for a cousin. Apparently the Aunt had mentioned something about how they had got a “good match” but had no clue about how said match looked like, for which my mother immediately remarked – “Pera sollungo! Facebook-la paakalaam!” (Just say the name! We’ll find him on Facebook!).

Deactivate button, anyone?

[Based on conversation with the erstwhile @idlingintopgear]

* – Roughly translates to “MOMMY! I HAVE BECOME PASS!”