Since I can't think of anything intelligent or perceptive or funny to write about, I'm simply going to duplicate a recent Facebook activity, and hope that this blog has some readers who aren't yet on Facebook. The newest epidemic that's raging across Facebook is writing down '25 Random Things About Myself' and I'm its latest victim. Here's my exercise in verbal exhibitionism.
Contrary to my feigned disdain for Facebook and its endless applications, I have been secretly dying for someone to tag me so that I could get to write this note.
I’m far more attached to inanimate objects than people. I still cannot think of my lost Calvin Klein watch or my broken Waterman pen without bursting into tears (and no, that has nothing to do with the brands). As for the day I had to say good bye to our old Zen, I wept so bitterly on the street that I soon attracted a couple of concerned policemen. I’m currently in denial about our old bookcase being replaced.
I am pig-headed about not dancing in public. That’s because the only moves I know are the really ghati Govinda ones.
I intensely dislike many fruits without ever having tasted them. Papayas, custard apples, watermelons, cherries…it’s the sight of their seeds that I can’t stand.
There is a class of people that spends most of its holidays at its native place- I belong to that class…my native place being Switzerland. I’ve visited it six times.
I’ve seen Roger Federer and Wimbledon, but not Roger Federer at Wimbledon. The former was sighted at Zurich airport on 15/05/2006, the latter was visited on 21/08/2008. The two shall perhaps be seen in conjunction in 2010?
The sight of someone busking always makes me want to cry. I’m also always in agonies when there’s live music at a restaurant. I can’t bear to see performers getting anything less than undivided attention.
The two great prayers of my childhood were to grow tall and not get glasses. Behold… ask, and it shall be given you!
If you jot down the names that I’ve decided I want for my children, you’ll come to the conclusion that I’m going to have to be the new-age Gandhari if I want to use all of them.
I used to dream of a family with a husband, three children and a dog. I’m beginning to think I’ll settle for the dog.
The first great love of my life was Shane Bond, the New Zealand fast bowler-cum-police officer. I used to daydream about becoming a divorce lawyer so that I could oversee the break-down of his marriage.
Speaking of New Zealand, I used to have a pen-pal from there. Picton, to be precise.
Speaking of pen-pals, I don’t think anything quite beats the quiet warmth and intimacy of a letter. I try and make it a point to write at least once a year to friends and family abroad.
I think I am the best driver in the world. I cannot bear any criticism of my driving and abhor backseat drivers. My ability to switch from being a driver consumed by road rage to being a supremely unconcerned pedestrian speaks of an almost Jekyll and Hyde like schizophrenia.
Post my tenth birthday; I can’t remember a single one where I haven’t cried because I was turning older. Entering double digits was especially traumatic.
I will not date a man who cannot appreciate P.G. Wodehouse.
I hate coming second.
I am convinced that I shall be reincarnated as a doctor. I’ll never regret studying law, but I still have occasional pangs for medicine.
My dad still folds my blanket every morning. Yes, I’m spoilt silly.
I have locked myself out of the car four times at the Eros parking lot. The parking attendants are quietly amused and resigned. I’ve caught them rolling their eyes at each other every time I begin rummaging frantically in my bag for the keys.
I’ve delivered a lecture on Corporate Social Responsibility and Environmental Law to mass media students at St Xavier’s College. While I spoke, a group of students chatted away quietly, one boy fell fast asleep and two students heckled me when I opened up the floor for questions. I still had fun, though.
When I was a kid, I was petrified that my trachea and oesophagus were mixed up. Dinner table conversations were considerably enlivened by my cries of “Windpipe, windpipe” as I pointed frantically at my throat, convinced that I was choking to death.
Three generations of my family have studied at Government Law College. My grandparents (their romance flourished here), my mother and me.
Not having had the benefit(?) of hostel life, the first time I stayed absolutely alone(no friends, no family) was for a week in London in 2008. It was horribly lonely.
I want my ashes to be scattered at all the places I ever studied.
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