Call me weird.

Not really. But I guess there is going to be one, whether I like it or not. I just can't behave normal. Maybe because I am not. I do try to act within the borders of normality though. But no one can ever imagine what's going on in this noggin' of mine! My interests are not shared by anyone I know. They're like, 'Whaaat? You wanna go to Masterchef? You wanna be a stylist? Ugh, such a waste.' I have nothing to do except keep my lips sealed. 

I guess most of my normal peers view me as something abnormal. But, seriously? What is normal even? Some kind of code of expected behavior set up by human society. What is deemed perfectly normal here  maybe utterly bizarre someplace else. So, I have decided to defy all norms of normalcy, and stay in my pretty imaginary abnormal world. 'Coz that is where I belong.

-Aamen.

Mess Chronicles 001:

I arrived from college at 2:20 in the afternoon...accompanied by a roomie and a demonic hunger in my stomach. It was owing to the fact that our morning meal of rice was swapped for 'luchi' without any former announcement. I know to most of you here, that wouldn't count as much, but when you are living away from home the only rice meal of the day holds a special place in your heart and appetite. Anyway, we were supposed to have rice in the afternoon when we returned. So with expectant eyes we peeptoed to auntie and asked her if lunch was ready. She dissapointed us saying that the 'pulao' was still on the stove. I almost skipped a heartbeat. Having Pulao-chicken meant a hike of Rs.10 on the meal, not to mention the extra calories (considering the luchis that were forced on us for breakfast). Moreover, I saw the housemaid plucking at a plate of rice. If the rice was still uncooked on the plate...who knew when it was gonna go into our bellies? Anyway, we kept mum.

At about 3:30...another roommate returned, who then was sent (as per custom) to auntie to enquire about the status of the food. By then, we already had a million mice running in our stomach.
Answered to with a rude 'no'...we did the only thing we could do. Wait. When our 4th roomie arrived, she also went to knock at the door asking for some food. It was already 4:13 then. By that time, we had clenched our stomachs, fought amongst ourselves for the last morsels of a forgotten packet of 'chanachur', sang songs to the goddess Annapurna and made plans to go out for some grub.
Uncle answered the door with a loud roar (yeah, exactly that. A roar)...that gave us (peeping from the staircase) into a heart attack. Our brave martyr stood there and whispered meekly, "Uncle, is the food ready yet?" Much to our astonishment, he replied in a fearsome voice "What have you girls started? You won't get any food now...it will be ready at 7 in the evening" and shut the door on her face. We got bloody angry on receiving such behavior from him, when we had done nothing except to ask for our rightful share of food. We stormed back to our room and started getting ready to go out. We were extremely pissed off and gobsmacked! Just then, at about 4:30 in the evening...that is 8 and a half hours after breakfast we were served lunch (if you could still call it that).
GOD, I so wanna go home. Its so irritating that inspite of paying enough we have to endure such insults and stay hungry for so long after a tiresome day at the college....>_<
-Aamen.

What's the matter with me?

I am eighteen, and I am single. Now, you may say 'Why, I don't see any problem in that.' Well, neither do I. I am happy being single (Trust me!) and I don't sulk over it. But, here's the scoop.

Most of the people I am acquainted with are either committed or dating someone. I see them going out, texting each other all day, whispering sweet nothings, taking pictures and so on. So, I guess sometimes I wonder why I don't have someone to do those same things with (and no, you can't mention my best friend here...'coz it is a completely different context). I have been pondering over this and these are the three explanations I came up with...

1. Maybe I don't look a certain way. Going by popular belief, most guys prefer a pretty girl (as in svelte and fair)...and since I am dusky and chubby, boys don't feel that way about me. Don't get me wrong, I find nothing wrong about the way I look (except maybe my weight) and I really think I am beautiful (I'm kinda self-obsessed); but I guess I have mostly experienced that guys do not look beyond your figure. You just get labeled 'plump' and then there is nothing beyond that. You get 'friend-zoned' and people don't notice you anymore. Now, I can show you a couple of exceptions to this rule. But, exceptions are not examples.

2.I can't bring myself to 'SETTLE' for anyone. I have seen quite a few of my peers get committed to a guy, just because they got proposed. I guess there are certain...(I wouldn't say 'virtues' because some of them are 'vices')...characteristics that I'd like my partner to have, and I just can't settle for any less. Oh, no you guessed it all wrong. It ain't 'tall, dark, handsome Prince Charming out of a fairytale' kind of  thing. I just need to connect with him at an intellectual level. Not that I think I am some big Miss.Smartypants...but I am different than your usual next-door girl. So, the guy for me has to be, well 'unique'. I have been approached by guys who would be readily accepted by other girls...but it didn't work out with me.

3.Sometimes, I feel like I could have been in a relationship if I changed myself in certain ways. I have been told, 'Oh, guys don't like talkative girls' or 'You are just too eccentric' or 'You should lose some weight, no one goes for girls like you' or 'or 'you are so sweet, and childish...but guys like mature girls' and so on. But, somewhere I feel that If I changed myself and became more 'acceptable' I would not be Aamen anymore. I would lose the very things that make me, me. I'd like to work out, for myself...not for becoming more likeable for someone else. I feel that the 'right person' for me,will love me for exactly who I am...no lies and pretensions included.

There, that's the job done. Got it off my chest. I hope I can find the solution to this, soon. :P Until then, adios!

-Aamen.

Bento Art!

 Wondering what these cuties are? Well, these are the pictures of some bento meals I came across. Bentos are a traditional form of Japanese lunches. As usual, the Japanese don’t miss the occasion to be creative in their kawaii way. I discovered bento art a few years ago while looking through food blogs. It captured my attention immediately. I mean, who wouldn't be mesmerized by these culinary works of art! From three little pigs, to hello kitty, to Halloween to baby & mama chicken, these bento creations will make you stare in awe. It has transformed into a flourishing art nowadays! Take a look at some crazy bento boxes here.  

 -Aamen.

Be careful what you wish for, 'coz you just might get it all...

10 year old Pinky had a dream.

To live in a bungalow, well-furnished and with many rooms designated for special purposes. Not in a rotting hole of a room with other filthy children.

To sleep in a luxurious bed with satin sheets and fluffy pillows. Not on the torn blankets spread over the cold,hard floor.

To dine at a table laden with numerous delicacies prepared by an adept chef. Not to gulp down the scant and bland dal-roti they got 2 times a day.

To travel in an air-conditioned car with a driver in a uniform. Not to walk everywhere in the dust, dirt and heat of the city.

To wear fashionable clothes and expensive jewelery bought for her. Not to don the same second-hand faded frocks that had been mended a 100 times.

And last but not the least, she dreamt of a man who would dote on her and take care of all her wishes. Not to be insulted and shunned in the daylight, like her mother was, by her male customers.  Pinky grew up to be a pretty woman, svelte and fair, unlike her companions. Bitchy aunties said that she must have taken after her father (her mother was not what you would call good to look at); but she gave a damn. She had never known or rather wanted to know who he was. Not that she could if she wished. Anyway. she caught the attention of rich men with a liking for pretty young virgins.

At the age of 20, Pinky ended up at the house of Brij Tiwari, a 55 year old business tycoon who had recently lost his wife to cancer. His only son had abandoned him to settle in the USA. Pinky got her big room in the big bungalow. She never went out except in the Mercedes, Tiwari bought for her. He showered her with solitaire diamond rings, designer attire, pearl necklaces and patent leather accessories, even before she could open her lips to ask for them. She dined on Beluga caviar and wined on Chardonnay. Tiwari never let an hour pass without talking to her, or let a night pass without making love to her. He was obsessed with her youth and beauty and was as loving as a man could be. Pinky spent her entire day getting spoilt in spas, dressing up for parties, and getting tended to by butlers. Her nights were spent beside Tiwari on the huge mahogany bed with satin sheets and fluffy pillows...

But, Pinky couldn't decide if it was a dream come true or...a nightmare come true.

#This is what happens when there's a nationwide blackout, your roommate is eternally on the phone and you have nothing to do but to pen down your musings in your diary by the candlelight#

-Aamen.

Empty Spaces Beside Me...

Scene 1. Three years ago. Chemistry tuition. Little spaces reserved for everyone, not by rules but by tradition. Mostly fixed, but permutations and combinations were allowed. I would reach early, and spend the following few minutes wishing that maybe just that one day you would sit beside me. You would enter that whitewashed room, half filled with noisy boys (girls usually arrived later) pondering over aromatic and aliphatic compounds. I would never look up at you, I didn't want to send any signals. After all, that was a guy's job. You would stare at the empty space beside me, lingering for a moment and then occupy a different seat beside your friends. And I would stare at my empty notebook, every vein in my body throbbing with the emptiness next to me.

  Scene 2. Today. The last period is over. We emerge out of the gates as a throng of crazy teens, overflowing with laughter,no one knows for what reason. We walk towards the blue motor vans, and I run up front and announce, "I am gonna sit on the front." I occupy my aforementioned space, and hold my breath to watch what you do. You approach the seat next to me, and my heartbeat goes a million beats per minute. But you are interrupted by two of our classmates who push you aside. I turn my head away and spend the rest of the van ride, feeling so distant from you, although you are just two seats away.

-Aamen.

Spaces have Tales:Strand Road

When I think of the title 'Spaces have tales'...the first thought that jogs into my memory is that of the Strand Road in Chandernagore. Supposedly,the best decorated bank of the river Hooghly along its entire length, the Strand is the fulcrum of all things hot and happening in the town. People of all shapes,sizes and ages flock here every evening to grab a slice of happiness. The sidewalk is flanked by lush green trees on the riverside with streetlights studding it. The jetty is crowded with people viewing the river at night with the twinkling lights on the opposite bank. Just mesmerizing! The yellow patalbari stands there aweing people with the fact that Rabindranath once lived there. From friends at adda, hawkers selling jhalmuri and lebu chai, little children playing in parks on the riverbank, bands of loafers ogling girls to couples sharing time together on the green benches...everything about it is serene and chaotic at the same time. My fondest memory of it has to be going into and coming out of my school gates (that is situated on the Strand) and just leaning on the rugged railings of the pavement,taking the breeze in. I mean, come on! How much fun is it to have a school on a riverbank! It has an old world charm to it. And the street food! Do I have to say any more? The Strand has been witness to history being written, and I hope it continues on its journey for many many more years.

-Aamen.

Toon Clips

I just tried my hand at making a few 'TOON CLIPS' as I call them. They're cute, aren't they? I have been utilising my creative juices for the past couple of days; making greeting cards to sell at a fundraising event for the poor children in Kolkata. I would totally buy these clips if they were on sale. Just 10 bucks a pair. Adorable! Here's how you make them.

           You'll need:
           *mount board
           *store-bought metal hair clips
           *sketch pens
           *superglue      
*small safety scissors

 

Procedure:
Take small pieces (2 cm square) of mount board and draw your favourite cartoon face on it (Tom, Jerry, Derp, Simpsons, Stewey, Spongebob...let your imagination run free). Then color it with the sketch pens. Make sure its bright and eye-catching. Cut out the faces with the scissors. Keep in mind, you have to make the same cartoon face twice, for a pair of clips...so try to make them as identical as possible. Finally, to assemble the clips; put a generous blob of superglue on the flat part of the clip, and stick the mount board cartoon face on it. Let it dry for 2 minutes. Voila! Your TOON CLIPS are ready. Its quite inexpensive and easy to make, and looks uber-cute. It would be a fun art project for little girls too. Have fun!

 -Aamen.