The Battle Of The Bulge

When I was young I didn't know what being fat was. I used to be so skinny  that my mother often called me a dried chilly! But boy could I eat! You could call me border-line greedy. I was hungry all the time. Social visits, birthday parties, weddings and even death anniversaries only meant one thing- unlimited food. I was obsessed with eating and yet I managed to look undernourished and starved! So much of eating and not a care about weighty issues. Such was life- young, carefree and weightless!

Once when I was around 7 years old, in boarding school, me and my pals polished off a pack of 500gms butter all by itself. Well the butter showed up  on me after 40 years!

Now with the scales threatening to tip 75 kilos and my metabolism asleep, being a foodie is near suicidal. These days even the air I take in gets converted into F-A-T!

 My mother scoffs at my attempts to exercise (says they are not challenging enough) while my dad insists that I should spare a thought for the starving millions in Somalia(he thinks I eat for two). On some days I do worry about my jiggling belly and shrinking clothes but most times the worry buries itself underground as my hands creep stealthy into the bag of chips. Watching a crime thriller without butter popcorn is like committing a crime, right?

Buying clothes is most frustrating. Explaining to sales people that I want a ladies shirt but need it in XXL size is like explaining nuclear physics to my pet dog. The trial room mirrors are all out to take revenge. Who says these things are inanimate objects? My rubber slippers smile sheepish dimples at me (the husband sneers that  it's just buckling under my weight).

How come the 7 minute workout videos look so easy, but when actually lying down on that yoga mat to start, all I want to do is the Shavasana (corpse pose).

Calorie conversations are nightmarish because most of the time I want to agree but the heart disagrees. I mean who counts food? Food is pleasure. And you only live once. The stern hubby disagrees. He has stopped taking me  grocery shopping and returns home with baskets full of raw food, fruits and veggies. He sticks the Food Chart on our fridge door.

Its battle time. Everyone is up in arms against me and all I want to do is sit on my butt. Which reminds me of  how uncomfortable the seats are in theatre halls and aeroplanes. The world is a cruel place. People judging my choice of food. Everything is made to fit size zero or its equivalent(whatever number that is). Is it me or are things getting cramped up around here?

I have to acknowledge that pushing towards 50 its now more important to be healthy and the only way I can stop these aching joints is to tie up my shoe laces and take the first giant step. Procrastination is so much simpler, says a small voice inside my head but I think I should ignore it.

Rebooting India

Its India's 69th Independence day, I  just got  back from a flag hoisting ceremony where fiery patriotism was unfurled by school children.  On my way , I encountered young men on bikes speeding, hooting , making cat calls and waving our national flag. Excited teens riding without helmets ! I rang up my daughter and told her to stay indoors. So is patriotism a licence to hooliganism or is it like everything else just a mockery of being free and independent!

This is  the sad reality that we face today. Women who form 50% of the population of our country don't feel they are equal citizens. We have to tell our daughters to be safe rather than hope for a change in the patriarchal mindset.

 Last week courting couples in Allahabad were subjected to humiliation by the moral brigade and cops in Mumbai dragged out romantic pairs from hotels on grounds of causing" public indecency" . The  Indian State doesn't think its citizens are mature enough to decide  for themselves about whether they should  watch porn, whom they should  love and how they ought to display their love. We are told to stop eating certain food, our movies are censored and our children are told how they should lead  their lives. There was more freedom of thought in the past then there is now! Is this an example of progress? We are tired of hearing empty rhetoric  announced every year on this day from the Red Fort. Shouldn't the government be doing better things to bring in a change? What about tackling  some real issues like Administrative, Police and Judicial reforms.

The monsoon session of parliament has just got adjourned sine die. Crores have been spend with barely any legislative gain. TV audiences were  fed chaotic scenes from  the parliament. Abuses along with mikes, chairs, papers and  files were hurled at each other. It's always games of hate politics that are played. The legislators  are always a reflection of the aam admi who voted for them. The present government in spite of their lofty promises of "Acche Din" is yet to deliver.

In spite of all this hulla about India becoming an economic super power, our per capita income continues to remain the lowest even among  the BRICS countries. I  buy my veggies like they were priced in gold while  the farmers  producing them continue to commit suicide. There has to be something seriously wrong with the system!

The heaps of garbage in every street corner is like a slap across the face of the concept of" Smart City "being proposed by the authorities.70% of sewage in our country goes untreated. Streets get flooded after every rain. Citizens lack basic civic sense and are insensitive to breaking traffic laws. We are  just apathetic spectators of this great Tamasha land listening to desh bhakti geet and forwarding WhatsApp patriotism.

Will things change? Are we waiting for a complete shutdown before we reboot ?My bitterness is compounded today  when I see the predicament this nation faces on its 69th Independence day.

This post has being inspired by #Edition 78 of Indispire: We have completed 68 years of Independence! Rapes,Women Security,Terrorist Attacks,Poverty,Scams,Corruption,Reservation,LGBT Community Rights,Transparency.. They still are a Big Question on Us! SO Are we REALLY independent??

A Job Well Done!

I stumble out of bed every morning and sluggishly get ready for work. But the drudgery and monotony ends there. From the minute I enter the school gates I am transformed into this hyper energetic adrenaline  pumping super woman(picture Kick-Ass, the movie). Each day I am faced with the colossal  task of imparting knowledge, entertaining and disciplining all in an Oppa Gangnam style!

Those of you who follow my blog,first,  due apologies but I need to be true to the name:" The Lazy writer"(hence the long gap). I had written a post on my dilemma over whether to join work or not to  on 23/3/2014. Well that was almost a year and a half ago. Since then, I have joined a school nearby as a history teacher . Turns out this place is a top- notch school of Nagpur , so yes, the grind gets tougher.

Managing a class of  hormonally charged teenagers can be compared to a walk in a park, only this is no ordinary park, it is the Jurassic park! There are about 35 different species of chipmunks  jostling for your attention. Their war cry is "Ma'am ,ma'am, ma'am"!!

 Mornings are mostly calm and smooth sailing. But this is the calm before the storm! After the lunch hour it's  mayhem! Classrooms resemble a torpedo hit war zone!  Every day  it's a thrilling new roller coaster ride on  Zombie land!

My zeal to teach comes from my love for Social-Sciences. Talking about  human affairs  in the context of time and space gives me a high. I love to share my treasure trove of  lore and legends, myths and fiction with all and sundry.

 History and Politics are my passion. Not the  Arnab Goswani 9 pm politics but more geopolitical straight talk. So I actually look forward to walking into a class. Like Quentin Tarantino I give my mesmerized audience a KILL Bill style performance and amid the roaring  applause (ahem ahem!! actually the school bell!) I exit the stage( class room) and like a seasoned performer I ride into the sunset with my guns still smoking, actually that should read sweat dribbling.

I love my voice and to have a rapt audience listening to my talks is like pure nectar for the soul.

 Yes there are the downsides. Doesn't everything in life have one?

 My voice gets hoarse by Wednesdays. I am left with a croak, emitting from somewhere down my overused larynx.

 Kids are moody. They sometimes snap at inconsequential things.(don't we all), choose bigger battles to fight  over!

 Exams, assessments, tests, assignments, the syllabus completion all  gets a little monotonous and leave a twitch in the neck but I will never trade this job for one behind a desk surrounded by grumpy cynical adults!

Children- I love their company. It's amazing how dynamic they are. These days they come in extra smart packaging. Most of them know a whole lot more than you and me about this planet. They are street smart and foxy. What they lack in years they make up for in their savvy smooth jargon.

Children respect those who respect and understand them(like the Bournville ad.says"You have to earn it!") Time spent with them is time well spent, that's my logic. Being sincere and loving has always helped me win their hearts.

 I must be one lucky woman to be  doing a job and loving it too!

A True Fiction!

It was a stifling hot summer day in Delhi and being indoors the whole Sunday, made my body ache. I stepped out, it was around 8 o clock and yet it was so hot. I looked up and spied the moon, it was yellow and pale. I was at once transported to her, to Mumbai.

The waves were crashing into the boulders in high tide. The air was salty; the wind was tearing at her hair. I close my eyes. I am at our usual spot. I had known it would be a long time before I got to see her again, so I had taken a long look at her that evening. Her soft curly brown hair was tucked behind her ears, her face tilted to one side as she listened with intent when I told her about my new job. Her eyes were always so expressive. I could see she was worried with the thought of our impending separation. I could feel her fingers search for my hand, as if reassuring herself I was still there with her.

Our friendship had snowballed into a romance almost instantly. Our conversations on almost everything and anything just carried on and on. Everything was so exciting! Each day was an adventure. A discovery to be made about something new about each other. Everything was “ours”, the monsoons, the mushy romantic songs, the orange ice lollies, the roasted corn on the beach at sunset. We held hands in the yellow black cabs, giggling and blushing to hide from prying eyes.But then I had to leave.

Goodbyes were said quickly. I told her I would visit as frequently as I could. She didn't reply but looked away.

                                                                   

When her brother’s call came, I instantly knew something was wrong. She had been on her way to collage; the driver didn't see a young and beautiful girl ran across the road. He didn’t get time to brake. How many times I had told her to cross at the traffic signal and not ran across the busy road in front of her house.

The rest was a blur; I don't remember much of anything else after that, except the pain! The ache just doesn’t go away. It’s been two years now but not a day goes by without some reminder of her. What I miss about her? I miss our conversations, I miss her voice, I miss her eyes, and the way they light up when she sees me. She called me Babu, I hated that name then, but now I long to hear it, just one more time.

Time has just stood still for me. I no longer listen to music. I no longer visit Mumbai. I dread looking at her photograph. For the world I am alive, but there is something dead inside me. For the world she is dead, but she is still alive inside me.

Written for IndiSpire Edition-67 #MissMe Theme

Big Ban Theory!

Indian government’s favorite pass- time these days is to use the magic word “Ban-Ban”! Ban this, Ban that! It seems we are vying for the first place to become the Ban-Republic of the world. With the avalanche of bans toppling over my head, I try to work out a list of 10 bans currently being most talked about.

1)      The Beef-Ban- the government in Maharashtra has passed the beef ban to join a host of other states where it is already banned. The central government apparently respects the sentiments of the rest of Indians for the time being and is not imposing a pan India ban. How about ordering some butter chicken and Seekh-kababs tonight, they might get banned someday soon too.

2)      Cuss Words -   Lesbian- Oops! I said it. The dialogue containing the word lesbian was muted in the movie ‘Dum Lagake Haisha’. Our ultra-sensitive film censor board found it offensive! Come on!  What kind of morons do we have at the Censor Board anyway? They released a list of cuss words that are to be banned in Bollywood from now on. Even the word ‘Bombay’ is banned. We listen to more beeps and muted words then dialogues these days because everything in India is banned. Hai Ram! (Wait; is that a banned word too?)

Cuts recommended by CBFC,’ in the movie Dum Laga ke Haisha

3)      Foreigners- Party toh banta hai boss! But make sure there are no “foreigners” on your guest list! The Karnataka government has put a ban on parties in Karnataka with foreign invitees. Allegedly they behave inappropriately. Our members of parliament can give tutorials on good conduct with their exemplary behavior, no?

4)      Bikinis- In the neighboring state of Goa, the government plans to ban bikinis and drinking on the beach. Tourism be dammed!

Beaches in Goa

5)      India’s Daughter- What a government cannot control, a government bans. We Indians are clever, we work around them. Everyone watched the banned BBC documentary online and mortals like myself even went further and blogged about it.

6)      Films- Films inappropriate for us delicate Indians like: Un-Freedom, Final Solution, Water, Fire, Bandit Queen, Garam Hawa, Black Friday were all initially banned. Some were lucky and got released later. These movies make you react and think, so the government banned them. Movies like Tees Maar Khan, Chandni chowk to China, Himmatwalla, just numb your brain with their vulgarity and crass so they need not be banned. Logic anyone?

7)      Homosexuality- Homosexuality is banned in India. Being gay makes you a criminal (According to section 377). It was proposed by Lord Macaulay in 1860. He said it was unnatural. Tim Cook CEO Apple Inc., Giorgio Armani, Luxembourg's prime minister are all criminals in the eyes of the Indian Law. Falling in love may put you behind bars in India while the real criminals ride into the sunset.

Vikram Seth

8)      Dance Bars- Dance bars, dancing girls, in fact dancing in general in Mahanagar Mumbai is banned under section 33B. Wait a minute, doesn’t Mumbai host the likes of FilmFare Award shows where our desi boys dance- Are they doing illegal activities? There is a lot of confusion regarding this ban on what is allowed and what is considered obscene. I just threw my dancing shoes away, you too best do that. While in Mumbai do as Mumbaikers do, right?

9)      Lingerie on mannequins - Lingerie clad mannequins in shop windows are banned in Mumbai and Pune.  Men get immoral thoughts on seeing them; boys become rapists, so says the wise Mumbai Municipal Corporator. My, my.

10)    Ban on Freedom Of speech- IIT-Madras bans student groups for criticizing PM Modi and his policies, this is the latest ban to make headlines.

      And I better shut up now and close this list before the cops come knocking on my door and the authorities decide to ban blogging. Let me put on my Ray-Bans. There is too much of a kill-joy atmosphere going around for my liking. No eating, no drinking, no dancing, no loving. What do  mere mortals like me do then? Sing Chee Chee Ban Ban to the tune of the 60s Hollywood number called Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

P.S-And Maggi now to join the Ban-Wagon.I am going to have mine lead and all! 

Lali's Story

The streets can be a rough and cruel place to grow up in. There must be about a thousand homeless street dogs in this city alone. Lali was one of them. As a cute stray puppy, she was cared for by an old man. When he quit his driver’s job to move to another town he abandoned Lali to the streets.

Lali lived of scraps offered by passersby and scavenged around the garbage heaps. Food was difficult to come by. Hunger and thirst became her shadow. Insecurity and fear her constant companion. Nights interrupted by barks and fights between the different street dog gangs. If you wanted to survive in the streets you had to fight. Lali was tough; she survived.

But unlike the other street dogs she trusted humans. She came right up to them, waging her tail as if pleased to see them. Her brown eyes looking soulfully at anyone who would stop by. Those eyes could melt even a hardened dog hater.

That was precisely why the Mishras  decided to adopt her. They were wooed by her docile nature and expressive eyes. Their two children fed her and played with her all day. And soon Lali was living with them.A year or two passed by. She was content and happy. She had a family. Every dog needs a home and a family.

Lali’s happiness proved to be short lived. The Mishras moved out on transfer to Delhi. They didn't want to be burdened with a dog, least of all a desi one!

Lali could never understand why the Mishra’s left. For days she cried and sniffed around their  empty house until she was shooed away by the new tenants. She was back on the streets. The neighborhood dogs looked at her as a threat and the summer heat was getting almost unbearable.

That’s how I found Lali- defeated, dejected and almost dying of dehydration and heat. She was caked in dirt and filth.

Nagpur was a blasting 47 degrees last year. I decided to get Lali into the house. She entered hesitantly; chose to just lay down right at the front door, grateful to be out of the heat.

In the evening when my husband came home and found a dog inside the house he threw a fit. For him dogs and cats are best kept at a distance. To him they spelled diseases and trouble. He grumbled and cribbed while I maintained a stubborn silence. In the end Lali’s brown eyes won him over. I think we all fell in love with her amicable and mild nature.

 Lali has become a part of my family. We have adopted her. She has her bad days and mood swings. She’s not young any more. She sometimes looks lost in her thoughts and aloof. I leave her alone to deal with her past.I know our constant love will ultimately erase all her unpleasant memories.

And I  wonder if she knows it’s our anniversary today,its been exactly five years since she became a part of my family.

Lalli And Me

Nowhere Men!

 I read the novel Roots by Alex Haley many years ago. It told the story of Kunta Kinte the 18^th century African teenager who was sold to slavery. I remember being haunted by the images of what the slaves had endured in the hold of the ships as they crossed the Atlantic to America. The story had left me feeling helpless and for days I wasn't at peace.

I was jolted back into that childhood nightmare while watching the news a couple of days ago-  “Myanmar migrants on a boat stranded for a week in the Andaman Sea with no food or water, people dying, while some are resorting to drinking urine”

 The tv channel was covering a story about the Rohingyas crossing over from Myanmar to Malaysia or Indonesia or Thailand, only that nobody wants them and they are stranded at high seas for three months now with no country to go to. They are being called the boat people by the media.

 A little more search on the web and I discovered that the Rohingyas are one of the world's most persecuted minorities. For decades, the Rohingyas suffered from state-sanctioned discrimination in Buddhist-majority Myanmar. Denied citizenship by national law, they are effectively stateless. Even the country’s most celebrated lady Aung San Suu Kyi chooses to remain silent on this issue.

In the past three years, attacks on the Rohingya people have left hundreds dead and sparked an exodus of an estimated 1, 20,000 people who have boarded boats to flee to other countries. The flight has helped fuel the human trafficking industry in this area.

Every year we hear of similar stories of people displaced by religious prosecution and domestic conflicts.   People dying in their attempt to cross  the Mediterranean waters into Europe from Syria, Iraq, and Lebanon

They are victims of a growing humanitarian problem to which no country wants to address or foot the bill. Why are the governments not doing anything on this? Aren't the images of helpless humans enough to make governments sit up and change its policies? Why is the UN and wealthy countries like Australia silent on this global issue? Like the proverbial ostrich who buries his head in the sand politicians seem blind to the refugee crisis.

A man has to be left with no choices and be really desperate before he takes his family, with old people, small children, babies, on a dangerous journey leaving his own homeland for an uncertain future. Where does he belong?
Someone rightly quoted that countries are spending millions searching for a missing flight with dead people, while the living are dying in those very seas!

And The World Will Be As One!

Another blogger murdered in broad day light! Ananta Bijoy Das wrote against religious fundamentalism. He stood for rational thinking and dared to question established dogmas. Beside being a banker he was also the editor of a quarterly magazine called Jukti, meaning logic (and how illogical was his killing!).  His secular views clashed with the religious fanaticism that is growing across the globe today.

I visited the website he wrote for; it’s called ‘Mokto Mona’. In Bengali it means ‘A Free Mind’.  What an irony that it couldn’t give the basic freedom of expression to its own founder Avijit Roy.

 Avijit Roy was also hacked to death for his ‘writer’s corner’ web page encouraging freethinkers,rationalists & humanists. Most of the articles in this site are about secularism and human rights.

 With the world shrinking and cultural boundaries crumbling, people are increasingly becoming intolerant of views that don’t conform to theirs. Why is fanaticism and regressive thinking growing?

For an answer to this I had to dig deep into socio-economic changes occurring all over the world.

 Breaking up of the traditional fabric of society, compounded with growing capitalism and influence of western culture is causing insecurities and apprehensions in Asian and African countries.

The 60’s and 70’s was an era of freethinking and neo liberalism. It was the age of individual growth.  

The 80's and the 90's saw revolution in Iran; break down of communist regimes, the rise of Taliban and anti-American sentiments. Today we read about young Europeans also converting into Jihadists and joining up with extreme fundamentalist groups like the Al- Qaeda and ISIS.

 And the group in Nigeria called Boku Haram even shoot people for wearing western clothes and sending their daughters to school. In such a scenario it’s not surprising that people are killing those whose views differ. Mock and make fun and you better remember the Charlie Hebdo incident! Even in India there is a growing intolerance for anything or anybody who is different, but more on this note in another post

Slowly and steadily the ugly head of irrationality and absurdity is rising and will continue to rise till a point of no return comes, but I know that the human civilization with its will to live and co-exist will eventually trample over these destructive forces and rationality will triumph.

 Brave men like Ananta Bijoy Das and Avijit Roy had lived their lives on their own terms. They taught us to care for the whole human race and not be swayed by petty sectarian bigots.

 Nehrunissa Khan (name changed) has been a Sanskrit teacher for 25 years. When plodded by my inquisitive queries she said she just loved the subject and went ahead with doing a post grad in it. She chooses to follow her passion. Her family and community stands by her. What a beautiful way to live.

 You may say I'm a dreamer, 

but I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one”.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwUGSYDKUxU 

(To Listen to the song go on the link )

India's Daughters!

 Last Sunday I watched the controversial documentary “Daughters of India”. Some people say it glorifies rape and the rapist and that it should be banned. I don’t want to get into a war of words on whether to ban it or not. I was not even appalled by the views of the rapist. The matter of fact way in which he spoke about his crime didn't surprise me; he is after all a psychopath and a criminal. What I found very disturbing was the views of the educated and respected lawyers who were interviewed in it.

In the late 1980’s once I was travelling by train from Delhi to Guwahati. Somewhere in between U.P and Bihar our train broke down and we were stranded for hours outside a non descriptive town. The people from neighboring areas had  gathered around the railway tracts to stare at us. We had got down to stretch our legs. We were a bunch of girls from the North-East all dressed in casual western wear.This incident took place many years ago but I still recall vividly the cold and piercing eyes that glared at us.It was so creepy. The locals stared at us disapprovingly almost challenging our confidence to alight from that train.

Economic growth in the last decade has opened up avenues for employment and women have started moving out of their homes for higher studies and jobs.  But the men folk haven’t changed their views. Women are treated as weak and defenceless and men have a power over them at whatever the situation .She may bring home the pay package but she also needs to look after the home and raise the kids. She dare not demand equal status and anyway she has no rights and no power to exercise her choice.

In my home we raised our daughter in a very liberal environment. We never imposed too many restrictions on her freedom. We gave her the independence to make her own choices, to think and decide for herself. But juxtapose this with a girl of let’s say another economic or social status. She may not be so fortunate. Her parents may impose restrictions on her dress, her movement, her choice of career and even her choice of friends! She too is growing in this very country isn't she? Or is there another India within India? Or are there many Indias?

 In our country, there are regions where dominance of the patriarchy is very severe. Khap panchayats exist and play a big role in deciding how women should live. There are places with severe law and order problems and women’s safety is threatened. Men from such backgrounds have their own notions of how a woman should live. How then are we ever going to achieve a uniformity in our outlook towards women?

Gender sensitization needs to be introduced in the school syllabus across the country. Schools and homes have an important role to play in bringing about a change in attitude towards girls.Treating a woman as an individual, giving her rights and respecting her is the urgent need of the hour.

 Or we might soon earn the title of being the country of rapists (with a rape capital to boot) and our students might  be refused admissions abroad.

When will we start treating our girls as equal to our boys? How many rapes does it take to wake up the citizens of a country? When are we going to change the laws and empower our women? We have to make men like Manohar Lal Sharma (the lawyer interviewed in the documentary) shut up. We need to change and  we have to change fast.

The Foot In Mouth Disease!

I was getting married and was full of bridal excitement .One day when some relatives dropped by to enquire about my fiancé, I gushed out proudly that he was 5 feet 12 inches!

You may be thinking, this can happen to a young damsel; especially before her upcoming life changing event, or maybe she is just math’s dyslexic. However, I recall being infected with this foot in mouth disease in childhood itself.

 In the boarding house where I was lodged at the age of five,  one day very confidently I told a group of seniors, my home address. They had enquired about which house I belonged to (Blue, Green, Red you get the idea)

This is my condition even today. This goes to prove that age doesn't reduce the symptoms of this serious medical condition.

At an official dinner with my husband, I once gave a fiery speech about the notorious “baba culture” we have in India. Their fakeness, pretence and the money making racket they all were into. It was much later that I understood why my husband had been giving me the silent treatment all evening. Apparently, his boss and the wife, who had been a part of my very polite audience, were also zealous disciples of a certain babaji! Hari Om!

 Once in an interview with the principal of a school, I very confidently asked him if he was a Malayalee and added that he looked exactly like one.  To this he curtly replied that he was actually a Jat from Haryana!  You can imagine how foolish I felt. But somehow this faux pas had broken the ice. The atmosphere in the room became less oppressive and yes I got the job.

• 

I am always saying the wrong things at the wrong time! My husband says it’s a wiring defect not a disease! Either I don’t hear clearly or speak too fast. I am always jumping to conclusions. At social gatherings after I have downed a few margaritas, the infection gets more pronounced but the blessing is, no one recalls anything the next day and least of all me!

 I should also give some credit to this disease; after all it’s a part of me now. It always brings about a change in expression especially on very serious and polite people. They may look shocked, confused, embarrassed or even just smile. Somehow people instantly feel more comfortable around me. They probably think how foolish/silly/dim witted I am, but I don’t mind. At my age I am way beyond trying to score brownie points. The good thing is sometimes being silly and saying the wrong stuff just makes things right.

So maybe you don’t always have to measure your words and watch where you place your foot. The journey of life gets more interesting when you sometimes make mistakes or take the wrong turn.The best part is you'll never run out of stories to recall.

Pigs Can Fly And Flu !

My blogging had reached zero balance; I was on the verge of declaring myself mentally bankrupt, when voila it hit me. A phone call and a curt voice informed me I had swine flu. How did this happen? I had not even eaten bacon or salami for months! Are you sure you haven’t mixed my swab sample with some other swine, I asked, to which I only received silence. When did humor die?

I had not been writing anything for quite a long time. Do bloggers reach a block too? Or are we the children of a lesser God, not so privileged. So what’s with my swine flu and blogging you ask?

The moment I heard the word SWINE FLU my science dyslexic mind immediately registered “Impending death”. So I promptly changed my status on WhatsApp to “Goodbye cruel world”.

I was hounded till  2 am with phone calls and please reply asap.A few of my well wishers (read dog-haters) felt I had somehow caught the infection from my newly adopted street dog. All explanations of mine on the differences in animal species fell to deaf ears.Some others linked my newly acquired H1N1 status  to an  old habit of  pigging out! Anyway,whatever the source, since now I was experiencing some difficulty in breathing and not able to sleep in an upright position I decided to make hay while the sun shines, write my blog.

As a child whenever I faked illness to avoid going to school, my parents saw through the act and send me packing. Being doctors, low grade fever, stomach pains were trivial matters for them. So I took to over reacting to situations to grab attention.

I love attention. I have a fondness for melodrama. I can joke, clown and cook up tall stories to grab eyeballs. Although Ekta Kapoor is the icing in this department I take the cake. Here is a little secret the reason I enjoy my teaching job so much is the free audience I get for my theatricals every morning (I even get paid for my histrionics).

Now thanks to the pig, I am getting so much love and attention that it has let my creative juices flow from literally the gutters! Now I finally have a post in 2015 and to think I had almost given up on writing.

So never lose hope. Inspiration can spring up from even a shitty pigsty. Oink that!