Fiction

What do I think of when I think of you?

I think of the way you looked the last time I saw you. You had your face turned up to the sun, and the rays crept stealthily through your hair, making it a tangled mass of golden and brown. You glanced my way for a second and I searched your eyes for a glimmer of that searing feeling. It was a long second. I remember wanting to say something, wanting to reach out and place my hand on yours. Instead, I spent that day writing farewells in books with pink hearts on their covers, sobbing on shoulders, kissing the wall where we used to retreat to during recess- all of that. An all girls’ school carries within its walls a lot of love, unconditional support, bitchiness, judgement, and some ideas set in stone about how certain things ought to be.

Akriti and Sue are living in New York, did you know? They got married. They’re adopting a girl from Tamil Nadu.

I saw your name on a mutual friend’s list the other day. I bit my lip and fiddled with the mouse for a bit. You’re still beautiful. You still have a mole on your shoulder blade. You still cock your head to one side when you smile for the camera. You’re married. To someone called Aman.

I hope you’re happy. I hope you found what you were looking for. I hope-

Haul of the day: 'Big brother is watching you' T-shirt, cute vintage purse, slouchy red cardigan, turquoise hoodie. Dark chocolate crepe +coffee ice-cream for lunch. Pizza con-carne for dinner. Watching the fireworks at Nathan Philips and the official lighting of the Christmas tree. One of a crowd full of young fathers with little boys perched on their shoulders, and children waving glowsticks and light-sabers.  Toronto, I love you ♥

On the importance of 'lol'

So Eric and I were discussing pet peeves on Facebook chat:

• • Riddhi 

    • i dislike....
    • people who take 500 years to reply
    • people who reply with k
    • and people who say wassupp
• 4 minutes ago

  Eric 

  • lol
  • doesn't "lol" piss you off too
• 4 minutes ago

  Riddhi 

  • no. if we lost lol we'd be at a serious loss for things to say
• 4 minutes ago

  Eric

  • hahahahaha
• 4 minutes ago

  Riddhi 

  • typing hahahah isnt appropriate always
• 4 minutes ago

  Eric 

  • i so agree
• 4 minutes ago

  Riddhi 

  • i mean imagine having to type
  • *quiet chuckle*
    or *grinning but not laughing aloud*
    or *i didn't smile but that was witty*
    • 3 minutes ago

      Eric 

      • hahahahahahaha *that brought a quiet smirk to my face*

I yam what I yam

I have a shameful confession: I really love this movie.

I know. I know it's clichéd and stereotypical and predictable and over the top melodramatic and flawed in so many ways. I know, I really do. But. It's SO full of life, and colour, and laughter and makes me sob like a little baby/ menstruating angsty teenager high on cheap booze and one box too many of cookies on a bad day. It's pretty much the peak of masala. Shahrukh was my first ever human crush (he was preceded by Simba- yes that one from Lion King- and Johnny Quest). Ever since I was a child of about 9 growing up on The Brothers Grimm and watching him on Kuch Kuch Hota Hain, 'Rahul' captured my imagination and occupied my day-dreams. For some reason they always involved him riding on a bicycle beside the window of my car. I realize this makes no sense, but what can ya do?
Looking back, I'm having a eureka moment. Methinks my weakness for dimples can be traced back to SRK. Shame on you , SRK, for leading me to make questionable choices.
Anyway, stuff like this is the reason that I know I'll never really be cool. I'll never be one of those people sipping on a beer in a trippy kaftan and oversized glasses talking about my exclusive love for Spike Jonze films. Don't get me wrong- I like what would be called 'the right films' and I read the 'right books' and listen to the 'right music'. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is one of my favourite movies, I nurture a deep and abiding love for The Beatles, Pink Floyd and Iron & Wine, I loved Fahrenheit 451 and 1984. You get the picture.
But also,  I genuinely love Bollywood movies- they make me happy. I realize that my reality will never be like that; nor would I want it to. In real life, if a boy came up to me and started spewing dialogues while gazing deep into my eyes, I feel like I'd  either laugh hysterically or do an awkward eye-shuffle. But it's nice to watch.A good masala film or a Koffee with Karan episode can cure my blue moods, listening to Bahara fulfills my intense craving for mere desh ki dharti, and I firmly believe that a cure to 'most all minor ills is a good Bollywood dance number. Does this embarrass me? Kinda. Am I going to stay in the closet about this and make snarky comments about Bollywood movies? No.
The older I grow, the less I care about what people think. I like this growing up thing- it's nice to fit into your own skin, without apology. 

A very food driven blogpost

So Boozy Baked French Toast was sort've a fail. The Mc Donald's Hot mustard sauce saved it. Next time maybe 1 layer of bread, 2 cups milk, 3 eggs, 5 tablespoons of baileys and half teaspoon salt. Much prefer the Indian way of making French Toast for now.

Next recipe to try: Cake. Will make either Apple cake cuz of all the apples lying around at home. Or Chocolate Cake. In which case, this recipe may be of use: 

King Arthur's chocolate cake

First time, I'll be baking a cake. But the cooking bug's gotten into me. Smitten Kitchen and mum's nagging combined have driven me to the kitchen. So far made Huevos Rancheros (Mum liked, I didn't like the egg roll but LOVED the Salsa Fresca), Caramelized Shallots (nice), and Garlic Butter Roasted Mushrooms (VERY nice. Probably more lemon, less butter next time. ) Also scrambled eggs with goat cheese on toast yesterday got me craving for the french toast.

Anyway. Pictures maybe sometime I get over being a lazy git.

Oh! Also Murgir Makha Jhol which was phenomenal as always- recipe from Bengali Girl in the US who has never steered me wrong.

she's the kind of girl who stays home on saturday nights in flannel pajamas and her curly hair poking out of a crooked bun. she wears a loose grey t-shirt, her collarbones jut out at an awkward angle. she's the kind of girl who sips wine out of a colorful mug with concentric circles- blue and electric pink, and orange and yellow. the lights are dimmed, the faint sound of swearing crack-whores and hobos waft in through the window that she's left open just a crack- she's the kind of girl that feels stifled when the windows are shut, even in 0 degree weather. she's the kind of girl who listens to 'fast car' over and over again, and wishes that she had black skin, cool and polished, reminding one of pots and the earth and hidden corners in large houses- beside bookcases, and by the stairs.she's the kind of girl who chooses to forego dinner and then snacks on mars bars, making herself feel sick from the 7 reese's peanut butter cups she had earlier on in the day. she's the kind of girl who realizes when she's had enough, but can't seem to make herself stop. in a strange way, she enjoys the floating feeling she lives with permanently. she's the kind of girl  who falls in love with people she can't have. currently she has been falling in love with a close friend's ex. he is not at all handsome and quite arrogant, but when he smiles, his nose does this funny thing that makes it feel real. and he walked her home that one time they met. and when she asked him what his theme song would be, he thought for a long time and said romeo and juliet. he's the one who told her about 'fast car'- it's his favourite. so she sits, in the dim glow of the muted television, listening to 'fast car' on a loop and hazily dreaming.