my friend is getting married. the other day when all of us were sitting and discussing about the marriage, all of a sudden i realised that the marriage is not exactly about the couple who have finally decided to spend the rest of their lives together. its more about the extended family, relatives, friends and what is their role in the marriage and how everyone has suddenly a very important role to play. the marriage to me is almost a cause. attending a marriage is probably the most demanding and stressful task for a girl - (by the 'girl' i of course mean not the bride). selecting what to wear, which hair style to sport, which jewellery to match your outfit with is a heculean task. the planning starts almost one month in advance and when we are not even sure what is the date of the marriage. it always starts with the saree of course. that is almost the uniform for every wedding. suddenly i find myself leaving my friendly jeans and t shirt and donning the uncomfortable saree and pretending to be demure, innocent friend of the bride. here is a typical conversation:

bride(eyes round with excitement): so what r u wearing for my marriage.
the clueless friend: i dunno, probably a saree...
bride: ooohh!! what is the color of ur saree?
friend (smiles): black...with orange motifs..
bride (seriously): black how can u wear black?? its an inauspicious color... (accusingly adds) u wudnt wanna wear a black saree for MY wedding...
the friend almost has a panic attack by this time and thinking fast as to what be done and how the sudden dilemma can be solved. when another friend suggest "why dont u buy a saree?"

Then phase 2 of attending the marriage starts. typical scene in the saree shop.
friend 1: i am so confused...i like both..the blue with pink border and pink one with blue border...(by this time even the shopkeeper has lost interest)
friend2: i think u look good with the blue one but the pink is more for a wedding...
friend1: the blue is so adorable...
friend2: i know and u dont even look fat in this...but its too party type...

next stage is when u describe the saree to another friend and of course the very important blouse to go along with the saree.
friend1: so does ur saree look like.
friend2: its very pretty..
friend1: really.. what is the color?
friend2: pink...
friend1: which shade is it the baby pink or the pink rose kind of shade...
friend2: u remember the dupatta of that salwar i wore on so and so day...it had some pink flowers, its of the same color.
friend1 (having no clue quickly diverting): so whats the border like?
friend2:the border has copper sequins..
friendd1:how r the sequins arranged...(and it goes on...)

next is the blouse. how to stitch the blouse. its very suprising that for some strange reason all the tailors in the city r ruled out and labeled as not competetent enough to stitch the blouse of the 'oh so beautiful saree'
friend1: u know that guy is very good but am not sure if he will give it on time ...(a month left for the wedding)
friend2: i know a guy near my house he is quite good and delivers quickly also...
friend1: i am kind of fussy..u see this particular design is very unique...i cant trust everyone with that...
And the hunt for that desirable tailor starts which will make any treasure hunt look lame and easy. and trust me this is the predominant conversation for the next 3 weeks. additioanally the pressure of looking interested and participate with genuine enthusiasm in all the conversations is also huge. it does not end here. it goes on with the jewelerry, hair (whether to perm it or blow dry it or should i go for a haircut..) it just goes on...am sure the communist party is not giving the nuke deal so much of a thought than we are giving to my friends wedding...

without hurting any sentiments i shud actually thank my friend for actually obliging us and deciding to get married. so that i get a second chance to undo my pudding image...

I am going through the most confused phases of my life. The only philosophy that I have taken seriously ever was 'go with the flow.' My folks insist either I study or I get married. Study - did biotechnolody but joined Advertising to avoid phd. Now imagine myself doing phd and working for the UN as consider self to be featuring on Oprah as the evanlegist making waves in the war torn middle east. Marriage-again my natural instinct is not to the trust the system. Advocator of feminism but believe in the Rhett Butler/Darcy/Heathcliffe/all three of them to sweep me off my feet. My favourite topics that I can passionately discuss are Marxicism, Greek lieterature, Hitler, Gandhi Osho and Dilbertism but cannot prevent myself getting engrossed over John Bipasha relationship status. Have pushed myself getting intersted in TV channels like Discovery, NDTV profit but always end up watching the re-runs of the OC. Will be caught dead in pink UCB attire but have longingly looked at the manniquins outside the malls with the season's collection and ending up sulking over a cheese cake. Consider self a responsible mature woman of the world but cannot avoid indulging in licking my fingers in a restaurant or enid blytons or the american teenage sitcoms which makes you giddy with the sugar.
Deep down, am convinced that there is something that I will never take seriously and that is life. What if I refuse to believe that there is a purpose to every life and convince self that the only purpose is to live life and indulge in every fancy without giving an explanation.

sands of time are slipping from my hand. there is a voice which calls out 'what if life ignores you?' am tied and bound, the barb wires hurt i have lost my voice and my pseudo self decides to take over. its as if the remote control of my life is handled by someone else. am watching the rushes of a movie - a movie on my life but the director is not me i have no part in the script. my pseudo self or shall i say my evil twin very cliched i know is just there living my life pretending to be me. only i know how hollow it is inside. it has borrowed every breath from me every heart beat from me. it refuses to take instructions from me or it is incapable of doing that. how ridiculous of me even expect to live my life, i keep forgetting its pseudo, fake, unreal. it has invaded every space of my life. it is lurking as the dark shadow. i cringe and i fail i scream but it is just a bubble. i reach out but the fog is engulfing me. it dawns upon me that i dont exist anymore it is shadow who is living. my shadow with that leering smile and ugly gleam is says it wont kill me but let me live. it feeds on my struggle for existence. it is all my fault. i let it grow, i fed it and now it is larger and powerful than me. is it my fall? how do i get rid of this mask the mask of pretence of individuality of happiness of confidence because its not me.

before i begin i should put the disclaimer that the things that am about to write will absolutely not make any sense whatsoever i have never really cared about that. my friends definitely agree that i have an enormous capacity to talk crap and personally i take pride in that. i call it an art. in fact the people who really know me have learnt the art to tune me out but it is the unsuspecting souls are the ones who interest me. this afternoon i was thinking yes that is a big deal to me. i mean there are a million things going in every one's head but do we really patiently pay attention to them. its the day to day mundane stuff that occupies your mind. the secret recipe of being the enlightened ones is listening to these tiny flicker of thoughts and processing them. being always a part of the dark side of life finally today i was forced to think as i had else to engage myself. the result was this brilliant philosophy by the way only i recognise the brilliance of the theory others labelled it as garbage. so not deviating and plunging into my theory i feel that the purpose of everyone life is hedonism that it the only tangible religion, the only faith, the only achievable goal. the path to this achievable goal is narcissism. if you are incapable of loving yourself you wont be able to love anyone else. admit it or not self love gives me you immense pleasure. if i dont know my worth then it is virtually to impossible to understand and respect others. if am not able to love myself then i wont have the confidence to get anyone's love. narcissism is beautiful, i fall in love with myself over and over again and it is one romance that is permanent and loyal. i could on in this tone with this ridiculous train of thoughts. it is one those rare moments where i take myself too seriously and decide to publish a post.

whenver am in the Howrah station waiting for cab i just stand grounded and stare at the stream of people moving about some with a purpose, some without. i always get so engrossed just looking at them without realising its so easy to get lost in the crowd. it happens to me so often am in a party and standing in one corner just observing people engaging themselves in animated conversation without even bothering to do the same. its as if i have some kind of cord with which i connect to people and disconnect myself whenever i want. when am at home it almost becomes a pain to even talk to people. the cell phone becomes a burden. saying hello to everyone with remotest civility is an effort to me. it dawned upon me that i can lead my life normally without actually talking to anyone. there is always so much to think about. the web goes spinning. yet am not lonely. i have often been told that am so full of myself. it true to an certain extent. am a self confessed loner and very comfortable being one. people say its an attitude problem. but i must confess that i dont deliberately ignore people its just i dont notice them for my own absentmindedness. i must confess that that sometimes i have the best conversations with myself. as if its some kind of madness which i really dont want to get rid of. i close my eyes and purge myself of all the unwanted thoughts and just concentrate on the functioning of the organs. to feel the clock work precision of my brain as if there is a person in the brain and continuously tuning my body clock, the rhythmic beat of the heart reminds of a factory environment. and if i concentrate i can almost hear each every tiny cell breathe. the pleasure is almost undefinable. call it madness or self obsessiveness but i that search for that deep contentment is almost worth every whim.

'pulp fiction' u love to critisize it but cant resist reading and watching it. the pure thrill, suspense high drama and lust its like a sinful burger with loads of cheese fries, u know its junk but that does not stop u from grabbin it and bittin into it. its often critisized as cheap and of poor quality but what makes it such a huge success? the plot is usually the same revolving around revenge desire and and the ability to perform in all odd situations. either its about 'hell hath no fury than a woman scorned' or it is the wronged guy at the apocalyptic end makin a super human effort to kill the bad guys. what makes it interestin is the way the protagonist rises above the ashes and almost with one single judo kick kills 70 leering villians with identical face value. uma thurman boardin the plane with a samurai sword is almost to the point of being hilarious. the age of sensationalism began with these pulp fiction magazines creating the heroes engaged in the job of saving the damsels in distress. if u really want to enjoy pulp fiction u have to throw intelligence and sense out of the window and cruise through the world where the lead characters walking around with AK47 and mass murdering emerges as a hero. it is pure entertainment and takes you to a different world.

what does the first thing that comes to ur mind when u think of 'pickin nose', a feelin of extreme disgust! but y? ever wondered the usefulness of such an action. v have trained our minds to consider that exercise as futile and disgustin but v forget the extreme pleasure and the usefulness of diggin ur nose. apart from hygeinic aspect, imagine u r in deep thought contemplating life what helps u then to swith on the tubelight of ur dormant brain nothin but the gold in ur nose. the feelin of extreme satisfaction and contentment that follows is undefinable. and as u roll it up with ur fingers it brings a slow smile on ur face which u fail to notice. while readin newspapers u often notice that the finger stealthily reaches ur nose and lo behold the diggin starts again. standin in the bus gettin crushed from all sides but u with a brisk movement of ur hand start pickin ur nose and all ur frustrations ends rite there. examination hall the questions r way too mind boggling, u know that if u sit idle u'll attract all the worng attention and in that moment of desperation u start diggin and miraculously u come up with an answer. if pickin nose has got so many advantages is it really fair u revolt the minute u c someone pickin their nose while serving ur food. in this age ven everybody's mind is clouded with the film of hypocrisy, where pretentious sophiscated behaviour is being adopted by everyone v shudnt really allow this natural habit to die out.