Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Why Fantasy Is Preferable To Life

If someone asked me, 'What is beauty?', I'd say...

It is a tall stranger riding a motorcycle. He wears a helmet, black in color, without graphics, which either covers his entire face, or just ends above his lips and chin with the visor on. He has a gorgeous, kissable mouth. The hands on the handlebar are big enough to close around mine completely, and the fingers are long, strong and supple. The wrist peeking out from the shirt sleeve looks strong but wiry. It is hairy, but not extremely that it should end up being repulsive.

I feel that the aura of mystery and intrigue is what makes him so attractive. With the helmet on, you don't know what lies beneath - A face you may or may not find attractive. With the helmet on, you're not judgmental.

But heck, that ain't life. Life isn't covered with a veil of sexiness. It's the coarse, sun-burnt, weather-beaten face underneath that helmet.

In other words, life's a bitch, and fantasy is always more favored.

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

What Being Single Means To Me

'The sad I am when single is better than the sadness I feel when someone walks out of my life'.
Been there, done that. I'm not claiming to be a saint and that I've always held up my end of the relationship. I've been the walker as well as the 'walkee' I suppose karma just works that way.

When I say that I want to be single during college, my sister, EJ and even I want to scoff at myself. The idea's laughable, because ever since I hit thirteen, I've rarely been single. But that doesn't mean that I can't - or won't do it.

For starters, a single status means more guys to dangle (*evil smirk*), and more time to yourself and to your own, selfish activities.

Taking a few committed (and I mean really committed) girls for examples, I bet if they added up all the time they spent in crying and waddling in self pity, they could have, I don't know, written a book or something. See where I'm going with this here? Wallowing in heartache consumes a lot of time that could have been used for something productive instead.

Men, I'm starting to believe, are not worth devoting time until they're in their thirties. Okay, so what if they'll starting to bald a bit? At least they'll start to understand the meaning of 'responsibility' by then.

I haven't really a perfect relationship until now. And by 'perfect', I mean a relationship that didn't end with one of us cheating on the other. I can't really say for sure why the guy does it, but for me, I'll say that either I got really bored and the new, other entry in the picture seemed really exciting, or I was starting to have second thoughts about the current boyfriend, feeling that he isn't The One. He isn't The One I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Above all, it is the sense of illicit thrill and freedom I feel when I cheat. It is the intoxicating feeling of power where I know that no one can really own me, and I can live and lead my life on my own terms.

I wasn't always this cynical about love and relationships, but I guess life does that to you when all the guys you 'loved' kicked you out and walked off with another girl. The ones that did stay with you, well, either repulsed you with their neediness or bored you out of your skull by settling into a mundane, predictable, routine lifestyle.

I don't think the phrase "behind every successful man is a woman" applies anymore. Though, on the other hand, I'm not exactly clear what the phrase means. Does it mean that gold diggers are always on the hunt for successful men, or a woman had a hand in the making of a successful man? Anyway, I'm going with the latter for now, and state that there wouldn't be an actual successful man in the world if they all listened to their hearts (and dicks) instead of their heads. You think Bill Gates would have been able to roll out one operating system after another if he kept listening to Melinda's moping all the time? Not that I know anything about their personal lives, just emphasizing my point here (Please don't sue me, Mr Gates).

People can achieve so much more when they're happy and satisfied. It is nice to be in a relationship, but not when it's going through a rocky phase. And I can't find a relationship that's not hitting the rock bottom most of the time because people are selfish, and it's "ME, ME, ME" all the time.

Hell, if it's going to be "ME, ME, ME" all the time, it may as well be on a smaller scale, that is, with a single status. Ergo, I'll just have I, Me and Myself to worry about, without hurting anyone else's feelings.

So, I guess that's what being single means to me. It means being able to slip into my oldest, moldiest jeans and sweatshirt and flipflops and not caring who sees me. It means living and breathing in fresh, independent (if not slightly gassy, because don't worry, you can fart freely when you're unattached, just take care when you're in public) air. It means lesser tear stains on your pillow and more sleep (no late night texting or calls). It means being able to choose oneself and friends over the guy (I know this may sound selfish, but heck, I deserve it after all the traumatizing shit I've been through). It means freedom to do as your heart desires, without any mental blocks ('What will he say?' 'Will he or will he not approve of this?').

It means achieving your full potential and celebrating your wins with whoever you want to - friends, family, or maybe even that new cute guy you have your sight on. For now ;)

Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Why, in my opinion, 'Serious Relationships' SUCK

#10. Ever had any guys, who call themselves your boyfriend but at the same time, instead of pampering, they insult you worse than a member of their own breed when you get a fact wrong? I've had. ENOUGH of them.

#9. The perfect couple is supposed to have all the aspects of relationships - best friends, lover, bla bla. I don't really mind being treated like a 'bro' most of the time, but I draw a line being punched, especially in the time of the month when I'm feeling down, cranky, fatigued, and frankly too tired to punch the guy back.

#8. His mother knows who you are and what relationship you have with her son within six months into the relationship and starts giving you I WILL CHEW YOU ALIVE AND SPIT YOU OUT vibe. Nice knowing you too, Potential Mom-In-Law.

#7. The obligations and the strings that come with a relationship are, most of the time, just not worth it.Gifts (receiving them is much more fun than the headache of choosing the perfect one for him), the routine declarations of love (even at times you don't mean it one iota).

#6. I've had guys who've split bills with me. They're not as bad as the ones I ended up footing the whole bill for. I regret that now, because they were scum-bags and I could have just pigged out on chocolates with the money.

#5. I've inconsiderate bastards who are so intent on getting their own rocks off that they don't give two shits about whether or not you've climaxed, too. No big loss there.

#4. Ever checked out eye-catching hunks and their forelimbs and then felt guilty about about it later on? Happens everyday with me.

#3. What really pisses me off is that they think they can demand to know my location and who I'm with (more emphasis on the latter) whenever they want. Hire a PI if you're so 'concerned'.

#2. Frankly, I believe there is no better feeling than breathing fresh air and buying chocolates you don't have to share.

#1. Listen to Pussycat Dolls' I Don't Need A Man, buy a tub of chocolate ice cream and share it with your dogs (On the other hand, don't give them chocolate, though), because they are way better than some of the scum-bags you've had the misfortune of dating.

Tuesday, 20 August 2013


Suicides are pretty common these days. People in my tutorial class were speaking about a girl who hanged herself from depression. Not an easy death. But then again, suicides are never are.

The first person I've interacted with to commit suicide was Jennifer*, a girl from the basketball set. A loose character, or so people said. I didn't know her well enough to judge her, but I could see that she loved to have fun, maybe a tad too much. She killed herself two summers ago, and I was really shaken up when I heard the news months after all my peers did. 

I later on heard that she was knocked up, but there wasn't much base to that theory and it could have well been just rumors. I wasn't close to her. The only time I'd talked to her was the time when I'd played against her team. After the game, she was sitting with a friend of mine. When I'd come over to talk to my friend, she playfully accused me of tackling her to the ground. I'd smiled and shrugged my shoulders.

Jennifer soon faded away, from people's minds and conversations. No one really missed her, not even in the 'ball circle. If they did talk about her, it was always with scorn, disgust or pity.

I could have been her. It could have been about me those shallow people gossiped shamelessly. I could have been the one who would have, if rumors are to be believed, missed her period, went ahead and bought a couple of pregnancy tests, and have had all of them result in positive (although I would be careful enough about the precautions; I'd say there is nothing worse than a late period when you've been up to mischief). I could have been dumped by my boyfriend upon breaking the news to him. What if it was me in her shoes?

I'd probably have taken the coward's way out, too. To some, it would be preferable than facing the consequences. But when you act, you face the consequences. If you can't deal with the consequence, look for a solution. And when else fails...

I don't miss her. But I do feel for her family. I've heard that she has a little sister. I don't know how their relationship was, but hell, I can't imagine life without my sister (Even though I've had the pleasure of murdering her in fantasies myself). To live on, with the absence of a family member is not easy, especially not if you've known them for a long time. And to cope with the way she left... 

Life is a boon, even though there are times we feel that it is a bane. No matter how broken the thing is, it can be fixed, at least to an extent. Like they say, suicides are permanent solutions to temporary problems. There are no problems that can't be solved, even if the solutions are not pleasant. It would take time and suffering to get the outcome we desire, but then we grow wiser, a lesson learnt from the hard way. 

Rest in peace, Jennifer.

Monday, 19 August 2013

Three Steps Above Heaven

The film starts with Hugo 'H' Olivera voicing his thoughts about the ongoing trial where he's being persecuted for assault on his mother's boyfriend. Let off with a fine of six thousand euros and a warning that further offenses would land him in prison, he walks out of the courtroom, switching his formal coat to a leather jacket and rides off on a Triumph Thruxton 07.

He sees Babi Alcazar for the first time at a traffic intersection, on her way to school. He is immediately attracted to her as she sticks her face out for air and whistles before calling her a 'Dog-Face'. He rides up to her car window and takes her hand. A stunned Babi manages to give him the finger before driving off.

Hugo, preferred to be known as simply H, leads a somewhat lawless life. Involved in street racing (without helmets, no less) and other chest-beating contests, he is clearly somewhat of a leader in the biker clique. Overthrowing Chino, another biker portrayed as his rival, in a contest of chin-ups, H and a few friends decide to crash a 'rich kids' party. There he sees Babi again, and upon approaching her, promptly gets a milk shake thrown on his face. The bikers and the rich kids fight, and in the chaos, H picks Babi up and jumps into the pool. A angry Babi calls him a brute and curses him for ruining her Valentino dress. H winks and tells her to tell Valentino that the dress looks much better wet.

Meanwhile, Babi's best friend, Katina has her weekly allowance of fifty euros stolen by H's bestie, Pollo. Despite requests, Pollo refuses to return her money and offers to buy her lunch when she says she'll go hungry. Upset, she calls him a half-wit and strides off tearfully, leaving him speechless.

The gate crashers leave when they get wind of the cops being informed. However, they follow Babi and her ex, Chico, who was the narc. The bikers thrash his car and spit in his face. They give up when Chico manages to throw one off his bike, but H catches up and beats him up for 'ruining the party for people who know how to have fun'. Babi panics and stops a car for help. When the man, Mr. Santamaria tries to pull H off Chico, he receives a blow that nearly sends his nose into his brain. Both the Santamarias and Chico drive off fearfully, leaving Babi behind with no choice but to get home with H. He rides her home, but they are seen by Babi's mother, who disapproves of H and his motorcycle.

The following day, Katina tells Babi that Pollo and she are seeing each other, and that he had invited her to see him race. She requests Babi to cover up for her. Babi, though not happy about the 'thug', agrees. However, she has to go the Siamese races herself when Katina's mother calls her up and is not able to get through her. H teases her, and she snaps that he 'wouldn't be so cocky in court'. He merely smiles and replies that 'the day I'm up in the court, this nice girl here do anything to save me because by then she'll be crazy about me'.

Provoked by his remarks and attitude, she decides to ride behind Chino. Borrowing Katina's belt, she buckles up facing backwards. Before the race could end, the police arrive and Babi is nearly arrested, but H intervenes and picks her up and drops her off at a place to hide while he could shake the cops off his tail. The cops, however, get a good shot of them zooming off. When H comes back, Babi comes out of her hiding place and is covered in manure. H asks her to take off her clothes if she wants to get onto the bike and offers her his jacket. Despite warnings not to turn around while she strips, H adjusts his rear-view mirror to enjoy the show. She threatens to cover his face with manure.

Dropping her at her place, H approaches her seductively and whispers in her ear if she would report him. Getting a firm 'yes' in answer, he kisses her cheek softly and teasingly moves onto her lips. Just as she readies herself for a liplock, H draws back and teases her, saying that even though she calls him a pig, bastard, brute, she still wants him to kiss her. Babi slaps him before striding off.

The papers carry their picture under the headlines of illegal street-racing. H makes a poster of the picture and glues it to her ceiling in her absence. Babi receives a picture of H waiting in a nightclub from Katina, with the message 'Look who's waiting for you'. She laughs as her gaze falls onto the poster. 

Babi reaches the nightclub, lets herself loose with a vodka pineapple and gyrates to the music. H joins her, and they exchange 'Dog Face' and 'Brute' before having their first kiss. Babi returns home, exhilarated, and is confronted by her mother about the newspaper picture. When she lies on being asked about drinking, she is slapped. Her mother, regretting hitting her daughter, asks her husband to do something about the situation.

Babi is grounded, but decides to skip school to spend the day with H. They, however, are seen by Babi's teacher. As they ride to the beach, H sees his mother in a car with a boyfriend and seemingly loses control. driving off at an insane speed as Babi screams at him to stop. When he does, he vents out his anger on a pile of trash cans. She asks him about the woman. He replies, she WAS my mother. The story comes spilling out about his mother's infidelity, and H's distance from his parents. Babi manages to calm him down and they spend a magical day at the beach.

Coming back home, she fakes her mother's signature on the absence slip. Her mother introduces her to the new neighbour, Gustavo and asks her to show him around. Babi refuses, lying that she was to go the cinema with her girlfriends. Her mother realizes, but doesn't stop her. Babi and Katina go back to the racing scene, where Babi is confronted by Mara, a girl H was sleeping with previously. She brandishes Babi's scarf and comments on its strength, saying that H used it to tie her to the bed the other day. Babi snatches the scarf from her and a fight ensues. Babi wins, leaving Mara bloody-lipped. 

Struck by guilt, she sobs on H's shoulder, while he consoles her that he would never cheat or hurt her. To celebrate her first war victory, he takes her to a tattoo parlor where she gets an 'H' inked onto her pelvis.

Worried about their daughter getting out of their hand, Claudio, Babi's father meets up with H. H reassures him that his daughter is a good influence him, and puts his mind at ease.

Babi submits the absence slip with the fake signature, and her teacher immediately calls her mother up and threatens her with expulsion. In order to avoid that, her parents donated a lot of money. Her mother tells her to stay away from Katina. Upset, Babi home when H climbs in from her window and takes her to a pool with Katina and Pollo. They discuss sex, and H tells her that he is no hurry. Under the excuse of a sleepover with Katina, she gains permission from her father to go out with H. He blindfolds her and drives her over to the beach house, the one she loved to "own" when she was a kid. They spend the night there, and Babi loses her virginity. H, for the first time, tells her that he loves her, and that he is happier from her to three steps above heaven.

Knowing that she was facing problems with her teacher, H pays the teacher a visit and asks her to treat Babi well. When the teacher refuses to be threatened, H and Pollo kidnap her dog, Pepito. Babi's mother cuts her allowance off and she has to babysit for money. H brings Pollo and Pepito around to take care of the kid while they spend time alone. On the other hand, they are interrupted when Pollo brings more of his friends in and start partying. Babi gets upset and throws everyone out. In order to make up, H cooks up a romantic dinner and calls her up. She reacts angrily, accusing his friends of stealing one of her mother's rings. H, outraged, reaches the biking scene and confronts Chino, beating him senseless before Mara stops him and returns the ring.

H gives her the ring back, and she lies convincingly in the court the next day. Embarrassed and upset, her mother accuses her of humiliating their family when they had promised to help the Santamarias. Babi shakes her off, saying that she doesn't want to live her mother's lousy life before riding off with H. She tells him that she won't lie for him again; if this continues, they would be through. H promises to change for her.

The results come out, and Babi gets through with the best grade, though a bit confused as she was expecting to fail. She decides to thank her teacher when she sees her boxing her stuff, and Pepito. Stunned, she leaves and breaks up with H for threatening her teacher and messing her life up. 

Her mother plans her birthday party, and a unenthusiastic Babi readies herself for the evening with Katina's help, who promises to drop by after racing with Pollo.

H, despite promising to be at the race for Pollo, turns up at the party to reconcile with Babi. Babi welcomes him with open arms and they dance. Gustavo, who is interested in Babi, accidentally spills a drink over her and tries to help even though she protests. H, irritated asks him to stay away, and when he reacts, punches him in the face. Babi gets upset and helps Gustavo up, and H is led away by Claudio. Daniela, Babi's sister, gets a call that Katina and Pollo has had an accident.

Babi and H rush to the site, where Katina is in a state of shock, begging H to find Pollo because 'they wouldn't allow her to see him'. H pushes his way through the crowd and finds Pollo being zipped up in a body-bag and gets hysterical, hitting the bike. Babi tries to comfort him, but ultimately leaves. H runs after her, and she screams at him not to touch her. She accuses him of not caring about anything or anyone, not even himself, and blames him for Pollo's death, saying that he killed him. H, beyond rational thinking, slaps her across the face. Stunned and hurt, Babi walks off, and H doesn't stop her.

Many days later, Babi is shown to have had moved on, dating Gustavo now, and not keeping in touch with Katina. Katina shows up at H's house on Christmas, detached and depressed, and gifts him a framed picture of him and Pollo at a pool. Touched, he thanks her and asks her to stay for dinner. She declines, asking him if he was still in touch with Babi. He shakes his head, and she tells him to forget her as she is with a different crowd now.

H decides to try for the last time, and calls at her house phone from the phone box outside her home. Babi's mother answers and realizes who it is. She asks him to hold on when he asks for her, and purposefully lets him hear that Babi and Gustavo are together and going away for a day. She asks him to take care of her daughter, and he assures her he will. Rafaela hangs up, and H sees Babi and Gustavo coming out in a car. Babi sees him, and is disturbed.

H goes back and sits outside his building, crying. His brother asks him if he is okay, and H breaks down in his arms.

H heals, and takes his brother to the beach where Babi and he spent their first date. He tells him of his plans of going to London for work, an idea his brother agrees as a good one. H recounts his time with Babi, knowing that he would, indeed, never feel as though he were 'Three Steps Above Heaven' again.

I loved the movie because one, Mario Casas is gorgeous. There are bikes, adrenalin and love in the story, and I really liked the acting Casas put up. I really identified with him and his feelings when he saw Babi with Gustavo. And, the fact that he lied and manipulated his way around in the first part of the story made me feel that he, too, is human. Flawed, if you will. And he changes all of that, though does occasionally take the wrong approach to fix things up, when he meets her. Now that's love.

Sunday, 18 August 2013

Sibling Squabbles

I remember, from about five or six years ago, an argument between two brothers. It was right in the middle of the game of football we were playing.

Older had graduated from high school and enrolled himself in an engineering college someplace north. Younger, born six years later, was still in the sixth grade.

I don't remember what the fight was about, and I certainly don't remember how it started, but I do remember Younger maliciously pointing out that Older 'had not gotten into IIT'. Older was exceptional in his studies, and he'd been aiming for IIT, but he couldn't get through.

Yet, when I met him today, he had passed out from his four-year BTech course and is joining ONGC in November. I inquired about Younger. Very busy, he replied with a hint of pride. I smiled. Determined to make it into IIT, eh?

Hopefully, he emphasized.

Well, chances are more that he won't remember that his brother had insulted him six years ago (My memory is like a sieve; EJ agrees), nevertheless, I've got to admire that there wasn't an iota of resentment at the fact that he didn't get through, and his brother still stood a chance.

Well, that's how siblings are programmed, I suppose. Because no matter how bad the fights are, no matter how many vows of not speaking to him/her, siblings always bounce back. Always.

It's a masochistic relationship, I tell you.

I've had my fair share of fights, too, physical as well as verbal. I was shoved into a bookcase once in a vicious childhood fight. I immediately burst into tears, but despite my sullenness, we had to unite forces to tape the broken glass of the bookcase. Mom discovered it anyway, since we geniuses used tape that was blue in color. I was only happy to be the tattle-tale after a confrontation.

I've hit back, too. I once threw a pair of heavy, metal scissors at my sister's feet that resulted in a puncture in her big toe. She retaliated after a few years by slashing my thigh with a blade.

The physical fights don't hurt as much as the verbal ones do. She, being the older and better at rebuttals than I am, almost always wins. Our fights sometimes end up calling each other names, and not tame ones either. Squabbles rise over the pettiest things.

Her: Feed Sirius.
Me: Do it yourself.
Her: I'm telling you to do it.
Me: Do it yourself. I'm tired/sleepy.
Her: And I'm not, you selfish thing? (only she doesn't say THING. And so it starts)

The fights sometimes escalate pretty bad, and I have to find solace by mentally placing her in all the Saw traps. I vow never to speak to her again, and even manage it for a few days (at most), only speaking when required.

But unfortunately, it's worse than an abusive relationship. Masochistic Me befriends her again.

Sirius The Ball-less Devil

God must have been playing cards with Satan when he created Sirius. The perfect devil-package, Sirius suffers from cryptorchidism, a condition that wouldn't allow us to castrate him so as to manage his ah... attempts of marital relations with my and my sister's legs.

Not that a castration could have cured him. I personally believe that only a lobotomy would work. One that would preferably involved the removal of the whole brain.

When Sirius first stepped into our home in October, 2012, he was barely nine months old. Here's a preview of the first days:

I wake to the sound of him playing (or rather trashing around) with something plastic. Dragging myself out of the bed, an effort, I discover it is my Boroplus. There were teeth-marks all over it, but thanks to the generous Emami manufacturers, no punctures. And that wasn't all. He had also tried attacking my lipbalm as well, but the thick cap didn't even register a scratch from the assault.

Being with Sirius, paying attention to him eats up the whole day. I take him for a walk and bring him back. I release him from the leash, and instead of going into the house, he promptly does a U-turn and escapes from the big hole in the fence, so conveniently made by Dolce. Takes a left, then a right. A little kid is standing outside his house, enjoying the fresh morning air. However, when a huge, and I mean huge, dark, madly-grinning dog goes straight for you, you're bound to rush inside. That's what the kid does. Unfortunately, Sirius follows him.

And then this little girl in a school uniform comes out, screaming 'Oh MAA! Oh MAA!'. Not in a cute way either. In a total top-of-your-lungs, slash-movie style.

Since Sirius decides to follow her this time (So fickle minded :D), I pounce on him and finally putting an end to his flight.

The kids are going into shock. Well, I'm exaggerating, but only a bit. They are really shaken up. I stutter apologies to their mother, to who they are clinging, and she looks angry enough to smite Sirius dead with a lightning bolt. Leading him home by the collar, I stride off really quick like an embarrassed mother whose kid just stole another kid's toys.

Sometimes, I consider changing his name to Blockhead. And this is one of those times.

Feed him three times a day, and walk him immediately afterward or he'd relieve himself in the yard. Then walk him another two times a day right at dawn and in the evening at about 6-7 PM. So that totals five times. Sometimes even more if he's doing the 'take me out' whine. Wash his paw, because he likes waddling and skidding in the drain. And oh yeah, due to his penile mis-alignment, his urine often drenches his front legs. So that up too, if you want to play 'shake-shake' with him. Washing him up seemed to take place at least about fifty times a day and leaves my hands dry and chapped when I lather up.

'Peaceful Sleep' is something from another planet now. You hit your head against the bed, and he places his snout on it, too, and goes whine-whine-whine. Then you get up and spend another fifteen minutes trying to figure out his demand this time. Is he hungry, or does he need to pee? Of course, ignoring him costs. If you do so and doze off, by the time you've woken up you're likely to find something in tatters. Most probably, they'll be your slippers (my original pair was white-white, then was replaced by white-black. Now only my white right survives), but I wouldn't rule out the others, too. So far, he's chewed up my sandals (various pairs), socks, white PT shoes, my copies of Hollywood Kids and The Rockstar by Jackie Collins (seems like he's got a fondness for her books), November Reader's Digest, my sister's old phone,  hair-clutches and rubber bands (lost count), lipbalm, Crocs, a bite to the laptop, and my pendrive. He's even run away with my sister's bra once. He looked hilarious with the purple garment hanging from his jowls. And yes, I wouldn't rule out the various products on the dresser. The problem with Sirius is, you never know what to insure. Nothing is safe from him.

Speaking of dresser, he seems quite fond of ours. Ever since he discovered the mirror (and the fact that the dog in the mirror is indeed him and not anyone else), he visits it frequently. Likes preening in it.

Despite been driven crazy by his demands, up to the point where I consider cooking him in the pressure cooker, one look of those big, round, puppy eyes and I melt. It's just impossible not to. :/