A Palabra of Pride... and a Subway Sandwich.

So I woke up a few days ago, with this strange need to eat a sub sandwich. All I could think about was "God, I need to have a sub today". The Subway adverts added to this queer temptation. So it was decided, a veggie delight from Subway for lunch. Final.

It was one of those days, where all you want to do is curl up and indulge in some comfort food, watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S reruns and basically do nothing productive. The day was so 'blehsome'. It was cold. I didn't feel like cooking or reading or even watering the plants. I had thoughts about my life being so sad, useless and pathetic. The only thing that could make it all better was a parmesan-oregano breaded 'Veggie Delight Sub'- slathered with mayonnaise and black pepper yogurt with a dash of mustard and a hint of south-west sauce. Thinking about the sub made me feel so good that I called up our nearest Subway store, a kilometer away from our home, asking them to deliver my sub the way I wanted it.
After what seemed like eternity, but was actually 45 minutes the doorbell rang and a chorus of "Hallelujah" erupted in my head (the happy hallelujah not the Jeff Buckley version). I skipped to the door and there was the Subway guy with my "the-best-thing-that-will-happen-to-me-all-day-awesomesauce" sub. After paying him, I skipped to the kitchen, tore off the wrapping just to find an abysmally thin, not too delightful, sub.

This is supposed to make me feel good about myself? Really?

Curious, I parted the the sandwich open to find no sauce except for a measly dollop of south-west  and a smudge of black pepper yogurt. The absence of veggies in the veggie delight was not pleasing wither. (Is this what you call irony??) All I could see was lettuce, a few tomatoes and a single sorry cucumber slice. No olives, no pickles, no Jalapeños . I could have gotten a better sandwich at any street side sandwich shop. I was crushed. 

I don't want to sound neurotic or anything, but when you put so much thought, imagination and emotion into a sandwich and it doesn't turn out the way it should,  it is upsetting. And if you're a food lover, it's apocalyptic. 

So I'm sitting in a post-apocalyptic shock with the WMD sandwich (Weapon of Mojo destruction) in my hand. Without giving it too much thought I called up Subway, stating that I was very upset with the sandwich that I was sent. 

Me: I am very upset with the sandwich that I was sent.

Subway: Why? 

Me: There are hardly any veggies and none of the sauces that I asked for. Its not what I wanted.

Subway: We don't put sauces in sandwiches we send for delivery.

Me: WHAT? That's absurd!

Subway: Yes, the sandwich becomes too soggy.

Me (Anger rising): So you'll send me a dry sub?

Subway: It can't be dry.

Me (temper rising): I'm telling you it is....

Subway: "It is" not possible.

Me (Temper off the hook): So will you believe me when I bring the sandwich down to the store and show it to you?

Subway: Yes come anytime you wish.

Me: (Too angry to say anything, I hang up)

Fuming, I start to change out of my PJs to my street clothes. "You chose the wrong person to mess with Sub-boy". You should not pull a  tiger's tail or mess with a hungry girl with a ruined sandwich.

While looking for my wallet, I realized something.  A voice in my head took over. 

 Voice: So what if you go to Subway? You show them the sandwich and they fix it. They put a dollop of mayo and other sauces. Then what? Are you telling me you're going to go all the way to Subway for mayo and mustard?? Is that what you're saying.?

Me: No. I'm going for the olives, jalapenos and pickles as well.

Voice: Its not about the pickles!! Do you have any idea how stupid you'll look? Right now after that phone call. you were the crazy-neurotic-psycho sandwich girl who didn't get enough mayo on her sandwich. When you go there, they'll be able to put a face to that name. 

Me: But if I don't go, they win.

Voice: *Facepalm*

Then I slowed down. Will they laugh at me if I go? Will i come across as crazy?
Voice: Yes you will.

Me: Aah shut up!

It was a matter of pride. I knew the guy at Subway told me to "come anytime you wish" because he thought I won't come all the way down to the store for such a petty issue. Its just sauce after all. 

It all came down to Mayo and Mustard.

And Jalapenos, Olives and Pickles.

I was in a daze contemplating about the issue in hand. And before I knew it. I was at subway.

There was this huge line of people waiting for their subs. And there was me. I stood outside the store for a few moments and then made a dash to the ATM next doors. 
"Ok... lets not fret now.... I want what I want, and I want a decent sandwich!" Keeping my breathing steady and bracing myself I exited the ATM and  entered the store. 


Spotting a guy manning the phones I went up to him and said, "Hi, I just called. I want my sandwich fixed."
Since I'm a good people-face-expression-reader, they guys there were either:
a) Not expecting me to come
b) Ashamed that they thought I would'nt come
c) Had no clue about my sandwich or my call or
d) Were born with bewildered expressions on their faces.


Long story short... (Oops too late!) They PROFUSELY apologized for the trouble they caused. And loaded my sub with all the veggies a poor 6 inch sub could handle. And Oh, there was Mayo and Mustard. Lots of it.


Moral of the story: You want something. Go get it. It doesn't matter how stupid you look in the process, because the end result is delicious. :)
Don't believe me? Well this picture proves it. 

See y'all next time! 

One for my Teachers

I was a strange kid.

No. Not kidding. I was really weird. 

*

4th Grade.

Hindi class. 

We all just finished a Hindi class test. Our teacher Mrs. Vandana Joshi had a surprise for us. 

"I won't be checking your copies today, you all are big kids. You can swap notebooks and check your partner's copies. And, you can use pens to check. The correct answers are on the board."

The whole class erupted with joy. We could use pens! In class 4, that was a BIG deal. I swapped my notebook with Nisha, my partner. I remember neither of us being great in hindi,  (at that time at least).  

So, seeing that Nisha was far from scoring top marks (Sorry Nish!), after every mistake I circled, I'd write a note of encouragement or drew a smiley face. Nisha was doing the same thing in mine; as I too was nowhere nearing average scores. We both peeked in our respective copies and saw what we were doing. In order to out-do the other ... our remarks and cartoons started from cute, to encouraging, to downright pathetic...

"Don't worry..be happy".

"This is not the last test, you'll score next time!"

"Live and let live"

"Every dog has its day..."

We scribbled and scribbled. In the end there were more remarks than test-material. We, really proud of what we had done, went to Vandana ma'am to get the 'test' signed. Waiting for praises to shower on us, we saw her jaw drop.

Result: We were sent to the Sr. Kg class next door. Vandana ma'am sent us to observe and learn how to behave and stay there till we'd learnt something. 

What I learnt: Never enroll yourself in the same school your sibling goes to. That was Rati's Sr. Kg class. The minute she saw me walking in, the little dweeb had to go, "Minnnnnnieeeeeee!!! That's my sister!! What are you doing here? Are you punished? Look my sister and her friend got punished!!" 

I never heard enough of it.

*

Now that I think about the things I did and they way I used to act, I feel stupid. I was strangely inquisitive and I had to touch everything! It was like an obsessive compulsion for me to know stuff. My repertoire boasts of breaking cameras, stopping escalators, messing with show pieces, casually wandering off somewhere and 'forgetting' to come back home... But the reason behind all these antics was just one- I was inquisitive and I loved to observe stuff. Very "Ooh, what does this button do?!". Everything I did was always with some good intention but they never always turned out that way.I feel sorry for the people who put up with me- My parents and my teachers. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank them for putting up with my weirdness. Well, there was little that my parents could do... after all I was their child, so they had to live with my eccentricity. But I'm amazed how my teachers put up with me.

I was the kid who chatted with people in the middle of class, who skipped and did not walk to class, who put her hand up to answer  and then forget what the question was, who would completely zone out and would stare into space. Yup, that was me... till 9th grade. There was so much going around me I found it hard to concentrate on one thing happening inside class. Ugh. 

I was always in trouble especially with Aruna ma'am (my Science teacher till class 5. I think she taught us biology in class 6 too), Vandana Ma'am (Hindi), Noopur Ma'am (English, History/Civics/Eco), Ashu Ma'am (Hindi- higher classes), Uma ma'am (Maths), Anup Sir (Chem), Alka Ma'am (Physics),... Parthiv Sir (Games)... Okay  lets just say I was trouble for everyone. 

*

Dipali ma'am, our librarian took us for our first field trip to Mt.Abu. It was a 10 day trip. 10 days with 3rd graders. We drove her crazy and she would scream her lungs out at us! But she'd also tend to our injuries (Yeah, that would be me again... i fell off  trees, scraped myself a dozen times and had volcanic nosebleeds) and would sing "Itnee shakti hame de na dataa..." for us at night. Even now when I hear that song, I think of Dipali ma'am. Yeah, Mt. Abu was a memorable trip.  

(Now I also understand why she would sing that song... she needed all the "shakti" she could get!)

*

But all the mistakes that were pointed out to me and corrected; and all the encouragement I got from  my teachers made a huge difference in my life. I may have been a messed up kid, but i was really sorted as a teenager- which is actually when most people go crazy. No one was harsh on me... but they weren't too easy on me either and frankly, I prefer that because I'm happy the way I've turned out. My teachers have really helped me (knowingly/ unknowingly) to become what I am. 

Even during college. I have a great relationship with my teachers (even now). I was never disrespectful to any of my teachers. It would be all fun and games. From swapping food with Anil Sir to pointless arguments with Hegde sir, from gossiping with Meghna Ma'am to cracking jokes with Goldin ''saar''. 

After a spell of non-attendance, I turned up to college one day and my post-grad teacher Jai Ma'am  said, "Thank God  you turned up today, this place was getting really dull without you around!" And that made my day... !!

So this is for all my teachers... 

Sorry for being an absolute annoying-pain-in-the-neck and thank you for everything :)

Happy teachers day!! 

                                                                  

 *

Third year BSc. 

Mithibai College

Papiya Ma'am was collecting her notes from the table in the lab.

Sowmya, Palak and I were standing outside the lab. Peeking from the door.

Sowmya: Should we ask her? This feels weird. 

Palak: I don't think people do this, usually.

Me: Oh, Come on! It'll be rude, if we don't. And it won't be right.

Ma'am came outside the lab and gave us a searching look.

Sowmya: Ma'am its your lecture.

Ma'am: Yes, yes. I'm coming to class. Go on. I'll be there.

None of us move.

Palak: (Looks at me..) Ma'am we..um...

Me: (Blurting out) We want to watch a movie. We were wondering if we could bunk your class.

*Silence*

Ma'am: (Coming out of her initial shock, since when have students started taking permission to bunk class?) Absolutely not. You're sitting for my lecture.

And she practically steered us back to class,while Sowmya muttered "Devyani and her great ideas..."

With 15 minutes for the lecture to end and 20 minutes for the movie to start, Ma'am asks us, "Which movie?"

"The Dark Knight" we say in unision.

"Ok. Mark your attendance and go." 

Marking our attendance and giving the others smug looks we fly off to the movie hall. 

*

Dad VS Me: EduKayShann

I have been really blessed to have studied out of great institutions during my student life (I've just suddenly realized that, now that my student life is coming to an end).

School: DPS Ahmedabad. (Delhi Public School- for all the morons who don't know what DPS stands for)

Jr + Degree College: Mithibai College, Mumbai

Post-Grad: The Institute of Science, University of Mumbai, Mumbai

I am really Happy with my educational line up. Its pretty impressive, actually and yeah I'm being a bit boast-y... but hey, its true! All these places have tremendous "name" value (Don't ask me what that is). And its really been a pleasure being a part of these institutions - The first two actually. The third one...ummm...? At Isc Mumbai... Its been just hilarious. More about that later.

My dad's school line up is pretty amazing too. His schooling years were spent at the local pathshaala, which I, for some time imagined to be under a banyan tree in some remote village of Uttar Pradesh. (I was right about the 'remote village in U.P'). His school was a very basic one, where the 'Masterji' was strict and would frequently whip the the boys with a 'sannti' ( an extremely thin cane). Furthermore, the student who was to face the wrath of the sannti, was made to choose from a selection of sannties or at times was made to go pick one out fresh from the tree outside the classroom. Dad says the thicker the sannti, the better...It hurt less. Yeah, I feel bad when I listen to his school stories. I always picture dad as the bechaara, quiet geek sitting in the corner and all he wants to do is study. I bet dad was the class nerd and homework was it favorite pastime.

Dad went on further to study at the AMU (Aligarh Muslim University) where he completed his Bachelors, masters and his Ph. D. Now that, is pretty awesome. He studied amongst the greats there. He met his guide who invited him to study in Australia and at Curtin University of Technology, Perth, he completed his Post Doc.

So why am i writing my dads biodata here? well its just a comparison his schools and the schools of today- my schools. And he feels students nowadays are in a way better position, as teachers are much better now.

Right...

Heres a conversation Dad and I had today over our schooling. Dialogue time!! :)

So here I am drooling over the computer, oogling at the new Canon SX30 IS (new line digicam) and begging dad to consider buying it for me.

DAD: Why do you want it? You already have an SLR?!

ME: Arrey! We need a new digi anyways, we'll give the old one to Rati. And My SLR has hardly any zoom. I can't take bird photographs when I'm on field.

MOM: On Field!! Tum bade on field jaa rahi ho!

ME: Its high time you accepted that fact mom. Its gonna be my job. Thats what I'm gonna do.

DAD: So you can identify birds?

ME: Of course I can! What do you think?!

DAD: Bachoo, You know who I studied with at the AMU?

DAD (AND I, Simultaneously): Dr. Salim Ali

DAD: Yes, he was the head of the Zoology Dept. Absolutely crazy about birds. Mad.

ME: Well, I'am crazy about birds too!

MOM: NO beta, you're just crazy.

ME (Giving a 'Mom...Please?' look to mom , then turning to dad): No i'm serious!

DAD: (Still going on about Dr. Salim Ali): what a great person! Hardworking, Intelligent and an absolute legend!

ME: Fine! The institute (my pg college) has a great alumni too!

DAD:(laughing) Who?

ME: (Proudly): Dr. Homi Bhabha.

DAD: Who?

MOM: Hehe... He doesnt know.

ME (Incredulously): Arrey Homi Bhabha...Bhabha! BARC!

DAD: Of course I know! Accha... From the institute?

ME: Yup!

DAD: Okay...Who else?

ME: Who else?! Is this a competition?

DAD: Bolo bolo...

Okay, however 'great' my college is, it is no match to AMU. Both of us knew that.

ME: I don't know.

DAD (Enjoying this now): 'Some great science person's name' studied out of AMU, he was my senior. (this was followed by 2-3 more names.)

ME: My college is 94 years old. (Smug smile)

DAD: HAH! My college was established in around 1750! WE have a board to prove it.

ME: So what?

DAD: One of the faculty members of AMU, later went on to be the Governor of Bihar.

ME: The person who started the EVS department in our college, was the Pro-Vice Chancellor.

DAD: Hahaha! Bas? We were taught by Dr. D 'Something' and Dr 'Forgot his name' - both amazing lecturers....something about Curtin Uni.... David 'Some person's' lecture. He could speak from 8am to 5 pm, with as few as 4 breaks, lasting 5 minutes each....Something about water and glasses'... recorded his lecture tapes... the Girl was called Victoria, and i borrowed the lecture tapes from her.

You listen to such lecturers talk and you can't help but wonder, how can they speak like that.

ME: (I'm tired of the best college competition...so have given up, and we all know ISc is nothing as compared to AMU, even now) : Hahaha! you listen to my teachers, you'll start wondering too. Not in the same way though... hehehe

DAD: You feel, as if you're transported to a separate world!

ME: Yeah, I i really wish that'd happen.

DAD: You feel as if you're out of this world.

ME: We feel out of our minds.

DAD: Such greatness!

ME: Such lameness.

DAD: Betaa...aise nahi bolte.

ME: Our Director said, "Welcome to Annual day ten thousand twenty" during his speech on annual day.

DAD: Insaan se galti hoti hai. People make mistakes.

ME: Thrice?

DAD: Oh God. Thrice?

MOM: Enough. Mini, clean your room.

ME: Mom, what about your college?

Mom's studied out of G.B Panth Univeristy of Agriculture and Technology, Uttarakhand- both Under and Post grad- Mass Communication in Agriculture.

DAD (Jokingly): Arrey, wahhan kahan kuch hoga.

MOM (Menacingly): I.said. Enough.

End of topic.

Mom wins.

What's in a name...?!

Well!
Here I am…again!
People think I'm really good at this…I really don’t think so! Its actually the stuff’s that happened to me which makes my blog interesting. I'm just penning them down (Penning…??!). But getting all that positive feedback is always great! Heheh…

(I’ve actually got threatened by some of my friends to hurry up with my next post already! Sheeeesh! )

Well was named Devyani by my parents. Devyani is a Hindu goddess, Lord Indra’s wife. And she was known for her beauty and wisdom (none of which I have….). After being called ‘Devyani’ by my family for the past 18 years …I’ve kind of grown used to and attached to it. (Well, they prefer calling me by my pet name-Minnie, when I'm referred to as ‘Devyani’ by my parents…I know I'm in deep trouble!!)

My friends however, call me anything BUT Devyani. Its ‘normally’ stuff like- Devnani, devrani, devo-ki-nani (this is what my friends in class 3 used to call me which means Grandmother of the gods!!! Ha ha ha!), devoo, dee, devv, devoo motors, devyaniji, mayavati (You don’t want to know why I was called this!!) and the most recent one ‘maharani’ (because of my ‘her highness-ish’ attitude I guess…) but nowadays they’ve stuck to a simple ‘Devy’ which is my favorite of all these names. Now if someone calls me ‘Devyani’ in college…I feel really weird!

My teachers in school called me ‘Devyani’. Plain n’ simple. But it was usually uttered in a half shouting manner and followed by stuff like “…you are the biggest chatterbox I’ve ever seen!” or “…if I make you sit next to a buffalo, I'm sure you’ll start talking to it too!”. And it all ended up in the teacher pulling her hair and praying to God to make me shut up!

In Jr college my professors used to call me, C-56 or F-20 which were my roll numers in class 11th and 12th grade respectively. A few days ago, I met my old biology teacher. She recognized me and screwed up her face, trying to remember my name. A balloon of hope inflated in my heart. “Maybe she will….maybe…”.
She relaxed her face and smiled and said, “ F-20, rite?”.
POP
My balloon burst.
I smiled back and said, “Yeah ma’am…but I'm B-34 nowadays!”

I’ve never felt weird about how long or how unique my name was. Until that one day.

I was accompanying my cousin for an interview she had to give in Churchgate (a place in Mumbai) since she didn’t know Mumbai that well. I had my vacations going on, so I happily (readily, eagerly, enthusiastically, earnestly, ardently) accepted her request. The three of us (My cousin, me and my i-Pod –I count it as a loveable member of my family) left for Churchgate at 8:00 in the am. The interview was basically for as scholarship for studying abroad, which was to last for 3 hours. I didn’t mind as I had my iPod(god bless technology!) with me. With 300+ songs stuffed in it, I knew 3 hrs would pass like 3 minutes. After wishing my cousin all the luck, I popped the headphones in my ears and snuggled in a comfy sofa in the lobby of the venue.
After 21/2 hrs, a harried looking elderly man, much to my annoyance, came and sat next to me. He was getting real fidgety and anxious. I suspected his son/daughter my have come to give the interview too. Parents are the worst people to bring along to such places. I resumed listening to my iPod which was now playing a particularly jumpy song. The man was looking at me. I managed to give him half a smile, which he took as a signal to trigger a conversation with me (much to my annoyance…again).
“Have you come for giving the interview?”
South-indian for sure, by his accent
“No I'm accompanying my cousin”
“Ahhh, I thought so, you were looking too young.”
I smiled back in reply. He went on.
“So what are you doing?... Oh! BSc??... In zoology?... It’s not a very common branch is it?”
“Yeah…it pays to do something different sometimes” I said with quite a conclusive tone. But the man, unfazed, went on.
“Yes, very right you are. People should do different things. The IT sector is overflowing nowadays. In the next few years, there wont be any jobs available…” and he went on and on and on.
“The perfect candidate for the Ameron Batteries mascot.” I thought.
He was still talking about some statistics and percentage decrease of jobs.
“What does your father do?”
“He works for ONGC”
“Does ONGC give scholarships?” he asked with a hint of hope.
“It does, but its mostly for the employee’s wards…I guess”
"They should give it to other students also..."
He went on about the lack of scholarships for aspiring students and how resources are wated on other trivial things like un-necessary perks for employees”
Ahhhh!!
Finally he asked…
“What is your name?”
“Huh??”
“Your name…”
And people call me ‘tube light’ I thought.
“Devyani” I replied
“Ahhh…are you an Iyyer?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not a south Indian?”

Lots of people get confused here, I won’t blame them. I look south Indian and my name is south Indian-ish too. But I'm a rajput through and through.

“Rajput? ”The man said with a disgruntled look, “They don’t have names like these…”

I had the urge of saying, “Tah Dah!!” but I just smiled.

“Why is your name Devyani?”

Somebody please kill me!!

“I don’t know, my grandma liked this name, so she kept it I guess.”
“Do you know what it means?”

You’ve gotta be kidding me dude…

I gave him the above explanation about Lord Indira’s wife and he wasn’t happy with my explaination.
“That’s okay, but what does it mean?”
“I…don’t know”
“Youngsters today!! They don’t even know why they are called what they are called…”
And it started again. I was still having that pained smile on my face.
“Do you know the meaning?” I asked, out of irritation. I really had had enough.
“ ‘Deva’ means god and ‘anni’ (which he pronounced as yanni) means elephant. Your name means God’s elephant.”
“WHAT??!”
“God’s elephant..haathi…”
No ways...any crap!!
I saw my cousin walking out of the lift. I really didn’t know how to react- relived, happy, sad, embarrassed…I was like a soup of emotions that very moment.
“My cousins come…ive gotta go. Bye”
“Nice taking to you…” he said
Yeah right…
I interrogated my grandmother about this. She just laughed it over.
“It doesn’t matter what your name means, its who you are which does”
That really felt better.
“And speaking of elephants…you better loose some weight before I see you next”
“Yes nani…”

Grandma’s simple sentence really made me feel better.
After all, what’s in a name??

(Although God's elephant is a bit over the top...dont ya think??)

First time...here goes!

Ohkay...

My first thought here...."What am i supposed to write"?. Seriously...there isnt anything in my life people would actually take pains to know about. I’m like every other teenage girl. Well...except im nt too girly...i dnt shriek when i break a nail (tht is a topic i will stay away frm), i dnt put on make up (eww!), I dnt own a pair of high heels ( Ouch!), i repeat my dresses so often that people can actually predict what im wearing the next day...nt because i dnt own many dresses (boy! you shuld take a look at my wardrobe!) i just feel appearance doesn't count a lot in everyday life! Fourtunately or UNfortunately...people dont think the same way i do...! Sheeeesh !
(This is one of the many 'phrases' i use to show my discontent/irritation/helplessness/sumtimes used to fill in empty space! Note:Emotional meaning of Sheeeesh © changes according to my mood...pls keep track...heheh)
So...where was i?? oh yeah...
We all differ in opinion. Some of you may like my attitude, some of you may not...some of you may like my blog...(you do!!?Yay!) some(most...? )of you may not. This difference in opinion brings about the most interesting situations in life! A steaming mug of chicken noodle soup reminds me of one such incident...

'Chicken soup for the soul' and its other series are few of my favorite books. I was reading 'Chicken soup for the teenage soup III' when my grandfather (a staunch vegetarian) walked in...

Granpa: (flinches) :"Chicken soup....?"

Me:( hardly looking up):"...umm hmm...fr the teenage soul III"

Grandpa: "Why chicken soup?"

(to my annoyance, he sits down...this is gonna be one long conversation...i think)
Me:(still not looking up) I dnt knw baba!(thts wat i call him)".

Grandpa: (Smiling gently ,knowing that he has brought up an interesting topic to irritate his grand-daughter-my gran'pa is a retired lawyer...) "You are reading that book...you should know why its titled it that way!".

Me:(sighing...looking up): "Chicken soup...is supposed to be a quick, home-made meal or remedy given to sick people...( i knew i wasnt making any sense....i quickly added....) u knw for sore throats, fever...etc etc...This however(pointing at the book) is supposed to be a remedy for a sore soul..."(i finished quite lamely, but quite impressed with myself)

Grandpa: "Really? I dont eat chicken...tomato soup or for that matter even daal ka paani (An indian name for the leftover water, while cooking pulses-If translated it literally means-‘pulse water’. its supposed to be very nutritious and very healthy…Dunno wat its called else where…) works for me. Why is it titled 'Chicken soup'!?"

Me:(sniggering) “Yah, right! ‘Daal ka paani for the soul....' Catchy…”

Grandpa: “What is it about?”

Me: (Replying after a deep thought….) “Well…it’s a compilation of true stories of what people go through so that maybe they can help the reader in some way or the other…just like chicken soup helps the body”

Grandpa: (un-convinced) “ So…has it helped you?”

[Ohkay…he got me here…I love reading peoples experiences, but ive never used them for my benefit…not because I didn’t want to, but because I never think about such things-there isn’t much time to think who-did-what-in-what kind-of-situation]

Me: (Thinking fast…) “Well…it kind of inspires me to think of the unthinkable…”

Grandpa: (cutting me off)”Really….and what unthinkable have you thought of lately??”(laughing at his own joke)…

Me: “Will you let me finish? I mean these people have gone through a lot…be it parent’s divorce or death of a loved one or cancer…they still believe in living for the present. People have undergone depression, anorexia, confidence related problems and they have written about how they’ve overcome it…It gives a reason why a person should...should.... ‘Live-strong’…(i addaed quickly with half a glance to the yellow band on my wrist)”

Grandpa: “Live-strong…eh?”

Me: “Mmmm hmmm…”(Sighing with relief)

[After ten minutes of silence”]

Grandpa: “I still dnt knw where ‘Chicken Soup’ comes to play….Its still tomato for me!”

Me: “BABA.....”

Sheeeesh!