My cousin tells me its a whole different world in Amritsar. All the houses are donned from head to toe in an attire of decorative lights. It is indeed a magnificent moment for all those who hold their heads high as Sikhs.
My friend tells me the roads are jammed. There is no way that a car can enter or leave the premises of the city. But its beautiful, all the same, in its very own special way. 400 years since the holy book was given a proper place to rest on, 400 years of respecting our traditions. Its only sad that people would get their hair chopped only for the sake of modernity when there's so much at stake.
Delhi was too marked with a holiday today with schools and colleges alike following suit except for of course St. Stephens where respecting rules is not a virtue. We had a regular day with irregular happenings ranging from a long discussion in the afternoon sun to the catching of University Specials and missing them while at it.
I for one am happy for the thought that an occassion as such brought just masses together in remembrance of their Gods.

My drive to the market was quite an eye-opener. Apparently, the entire market is crowded from all ends with parked cars except for a single car's space used as an entry/exit - as the need may be.
After parking inside and completing the chores in less than two minutes, I headed for back home when I made a startling discovery. In place of the exit was a parked vehicle. Being a girl, and in my early driving days, it would only be stupid of me to honk my brains out at a stagnant car. So in a futile attempt I tried to make an escape from other spaces, only knowing its not quite possible.
Few minutes of my furious tryst with closely parked cars, the owner of the vehicle, a mother along with her two kids realized they want to head home. But no, they don't want to head home immediately. They want to take time strolling in circles around the car, talking to each other, deciding who'd sit in front with mommy and honk a couple of times at no one in particular.
After five minutes of this onerous task, they decided to make way for the exit of my car. I am only imagining if she didn't turn up, how would I have reached home. I think I need wings for the car.

+'s friend H from the States was in town yesterday. Considering Delhi, going out for lunch meant eating the sight of a policeman pissing on the roadside and drinking the pollution from an otherwise CNG auto-rickshaw. H however, took it all in good humor, visiting India for the first time in 15 years, despite being an Indian himself.
So when I questioned him on which airlines he came through, he half-sighed in his reponse. "As an Indian, you see...", he replied, "...one feels very patriotic on such occassions. I thought it was best to support one's country - and hence I chose Air India".
Impressed, I asked, "So how was it like?"
"It was the biggest mistake I made".
Chagrined, I changed the topic.

I am not quite sure if I love it in St. Stephen's. Apparently, the crowd is the intellectually overdozed kinds, each student lost in his own philosophical findings of life and its goals.
The college in itself showcases a bundle of chain smokers with long kurtas and guys with extra long curly hair as its best students. I kind of really miss Modern School, where the snobs at least had a bath everyday.
But it must be sad, for the rich snobs don't score enough to reach the elite colleges - they normally go to the regular ones, where you could swear the building would fall before you take your next intake of oxygen. And those are the kinds to move in big cars, and branded clothes, not to mention the latest mobile to their name.
I think its been quite a while since I last saw anyone wear a Diesel. Damn.. I miss it so!

After many years, I found my eyes on a pack of paper soaps. The ones which are paper, but when combined with water - voila, the lather emerges and a strong scent fills the air, and you can confirm its a soap alright.
I recall carrying a thin pack of those when travelling in the train. In those days, hygiene was really not one of Indian Railways' virtues. Now these paper soaps were strictly meant for loo-visits. If you don't visit the loo, you can't play with the soap! For a kid like me, it was fascinating to see a paper get all crumpled and the lather coming on with a weird strong smell. Wow, like imagine that! Paper with soap! So even if I really didn't need to go to the loo, I would pretend that I have to go - real badly. And each time the visit would last a couple of seconds and the handwashing - a couple of minutes.
I wonder who thought of it, anyway? Someone travelling in the train probably thought.. I wish I had a paper. A paper that was a soap! And I'll make it in different colors and different fragrances. And they'd all expel lather. And all kids of this country would fake loo visits to play with my paper soap.
Damn, that man was good!

My friend today told me an interesting story. A friend of her sister, she tells, was seriously involved with some guy in her locality. Her family was unaware and the affair continued for many years. Apparently, she knew she was destined for an arranged marriage and didn't want to ruin her life pursuing a dream of getting married to him.
Hence, they parted, in their own solemn way. Few years later her parents brought her the proposal of the same guy. In a week's time, she concludes, they're getting married. "Its destiny, Gursimran. They were destined to be together".
I don't know what she was getting at, but I thought it'd make a good blog post.

This morning, I caught Zee News' 'Kuch Kar Dikhana Hai' - a career and job-oriented show. It was then that I realized the power of words.
What do you need to be a good 'brewmaster'? Ordinarily, I would be in awe of the word. Not only brew, but also a master? Yay!
But the graphic kind of spoilt the fun when I found out the unsmiling dorks behind the Barista counter can claim of being just that. Brewblasters. The only mastry they have is to oversize your order every time an item escapes your mouth. You cannot have Cafe Mocha alone, they'd insist you add a scoop of ice-cream or whipped cream with it. And if you insist you don't want it, somehow it adds up in your billing anyway.
And the masters have it right when a Brrrista has more ice than coffee itself. These Brewmasters get paid 5,000 - 6,000 per month, no wonder they're getting back at the customers for that.
I wonder what those McD people are called? DonaldWizards?