Defining Dosa(i) as a Concept.

One of the few things I am really particular about is how my dosa should be made, served and eaten. As in I believe there is a point in making dosas the way they are to be made and respect compliance. The point is it is an independent concept and its conceptually incorrect to withdraw from its original form. At least refrain from calling it dosa. Call it something else- say gosa or posa! I often find this happening in restaurants- usually the bhavans and sagars around. And I take offence to such a departure. Primarily, dosas are not meant to be "sweet"- which means adding jaggery or sugar to the batter is a strict "no". Also, dosa is a thin and crispy digestible form of tiffin rather than a thick leather-like pancake making it difficult to chew or digest. Making it that thick would also contribute to leaving some parts of the dosa uncooked. May be learning how to make uthappam helps in cooking thick pancakes but uthappam certainly isnt this bad when made thick!

Another thing that adds to the taste of dosa is oil- but overdoing it or using smelly-reheated oil would only render the dosa sort of stale. Too much of oil is not good in any case, right? Dosas are conventionally served with sambhar and chutney (ranging from coconut to onion to mint to tomato). So it is important that the accompaniments are good too. Good here would ideally mean undiluted, spicy and proportionate with all necessary ingredients. The picture I have put up above could be quite misleading, you know? Coriander seasoning definitely doesn't help. And also, that triangular shape doesnt beautify it that much that people would crave to eat dosas which are of that shape (or rolled up neatly). Sadly, I feel for the cause. The cause of all mamis who make wonderful dosas in a minute. The cause of those dosas which might have a right to be presented the way they want to be. Certainly. Sigh...It (the thought) gives me an appetance for the thin-n-light crispy dosas which I can endlessly hog on at home with other complements such as curd, molaga podi (chilly powder), mango pickle, thogayal (which is my recent addiction), etc... while I feel full up in my throat with just a few bites of those thick-n-oily dosas outside.

Turn around.

Okay. I thought about it...about the idea I had suggested below. Even though I did not agree with it at any point and still maintain my stand, I guess it was important that I mentioned it. I mentioned how human mind worked. It might be wrong, but how does it matter! I guess it is extremely difficult for me to budge. Let me be. Let me be the "sometimes over-friendly and sometimes over-hostile" person. People are what they are. They are not perfect. Nobody is. I am going to be myself- the imperfect self and help people when they come my way or sometimes go out of the way to do so. If I have to, I will until I feel I am being taken for granted. And also, I will try to be a patient listener- whether its a problem or a pride show. That is the standard I have and will continue to have. So what if some don't like it, I still enjoy being myself.

What are friends for?

I never really understood why we have friends- Just to go out for a coffee? To sit and chat for ours with? To share things with? To expect them to help you out when distressed? Or above all this can you also expect to talk to them about whatever you want without being judged? I guess this is not something you can expect. No matter who your friend is, expect to be judged for every word you say. After all friends are just normal people who hang out with you. And you too must go ahead judge every single act of your friends'. If he calls you a bitch, take offence to it and call him a bastard. Then and there. If he asks you to shut up, don't shut up even if you have to. You ask the person to shut up. Whatever be the circumstance i.e. even if your friend is dying in emotional crisis, you must be bothered about your ego, your self-respect (which was never meant to be hurt) and your life. If your friend says something even slightly rude when in some trouble, you must overlook the problem he is going through and shout at your friend. What is the need to adjust? What is the need to recollect instances when your friend might have borne the brunt of your temper just because you were in some trouble? Especially some instances when you went your way to help and got it back. How does all that matter? You must show it back now. Its a cool thing to do. Run after it. Period.

Apparently, this is how it works. Sadly, I just realized it. A little too late. But yeah, I have learned it now. I might not agree with it but it is something I need to do to be normal. Learned the art of just showing it on the person. That is to say if I have a friend who comes to me with a problem and says something even slightly bitter, rude or sarcastic, I will pounce on the person pretermitting the possibility that he might have done it solely because he was in some discomfort and did not intend to hurt you. This is how a human mind should work. It must take cognizance of every single word your friend utters, store it in and vent it out at the right time. The right time does not mean your friend should be happy and smiling. It is preferable to show it when he is complete hardship. It is so cool, right? Try it and tell me how it felt. I just hope I can at least try to be good at it because I usually suck at handling people. Either I am over-friendly or over-hostile. :)

Little Joys of the Not-so-long Life- Part I

When I was putting down a post yesterday, there were a list of things running in mind...ones that I would look forward to anytime, any day and any where! The best part is when such lovely little things happen when you least anticipate them. They come by and make your day. Countless, yet I thought I must put down some. May be we would have something common...the little pleasures to save for a lifetime!!

I study in Bangalore and hence get to go back home (Chennai!!) at least once a month. The ritual is to rush from classes (at 1:30 in the afternoon) on a Friday afternoon to catch the Brindavan at 2:30. Though it is one of the crowdest trains in India with people getting in, with or without a ticket, and stuffy...it still gives you the hope that you will reach home for dinner. A nice home-cooked meal. When I reach Madras station at 8:30, Dad would be there waiting for me with cake (or something to snack on) from a bakery in Spencers Plaza (on his way from office)...he has never come late. Never. I usually go home after exams or submissions...But the questions my dad asks have never been related to academics. It would be something like "hostel sapadu ippo paravaliya? (Has the mess food become any better?)";"gowthaman, vivek, latchana, tuhina ellam epdi irukanga" (How are gowthaman, vivek, tuhina and latchana doing?); "friends-a kootindu vara vendiyadhu dhaan-e" (Why dont you bring your friends home sometime?) etc... Once we get into the car, I grab the phone from dad and give my mom a call. And I know she would pick it up with the very first ring! Through out the drive, dad will take me around the city (as if I have never been around) and give me updates about the place. When I finally reach home at 9:30, Mom would be waiting at the door to greet me saying "Chellam! Vandhutiya...Epdi irukka?!" (Dear! You have come, finally...How are you?!). By then, my bed would have been made with the A/C turned on so that the room is not hot. Within minutes of freshening up, hot dosas with sambhar and curd-molagapodi are served. For desert, it has always been the carrot halwa I love. By this time, dad will already be whining about how I sweep away all the attention when home! :D After an hour of updating my mom about hostel, Bangalore, the train journey, etc, I go to sleep. Go to sleep on a well-made bed with the temperature just right (thanks to the a/c!) and cuddle up in a blanket. As every other time, the weekend would begin...full of hopes and plans. And I have never gotten bored of this routine. :)

The Feel-Good Factor. :)

After the disastrous terrorist attacks in Bombay, my parents (who live miles away in Germany) promptly gave me a ring to find out if I was okay. And a long long lecture about how I should strictly stay on campus, not interact with strangers or eat things they offer (yes! they still remind me about it), stock up my fridge with lot of food stuff so I dont have to go out anywhere and top up my phone card for at least 300 bucks so I can make emergency calls. I mean I was happy we, in Bangalore, were safe but it was even better to know how, no matter what, there are people who think of you and check on you. I am sure all of us have someone or the other somewhere in the world. I mean all of us and it is upto to oneself to figure out who, where and how. It is practically impossible to keep in touch with every single person we know all the time and we all know that. It is stupid to count your blessings that way. What really matters is to know we have someone around and that loneliness is just a temporary dump. :)

Call for Hygiene

I do remember learning the hygiene chart when in class 2 or so which certainly and importantly included bathing. Bathing once a day, at least. I can’t say if it is because of my hygiene lessons that I bathe everyday but I do. I have to. I can't imagine the stickiness and oiliness associated with not bathing every morning. Even if I wake up at 8:30 (and class is at 8:50), I can never afford to miss my five-minute-bath. And if at all I miss it, I get all sad and irritated by the end of classes; run back to the hostel to have my bath and regain my senses. Bathing, hence, is essential and compulsory. Back home, the process gets further complicated with a typical tam routine. Sunday-na yenna thechu kulikanum (oil bath on Sundays) and thalaikku shikkai thechu kulikanum (where you wash your hair with shikkai). Though mom never enforced these two regularly, bathing still was an indispensable part of the day. Like pati (grand mom) says "saptu kulikriyo, kulichitu sapdriyo...illa sapdama-le kulikriyo, kulikradhu must!" (Whether you eat and bathe or bathe and eat or starve and bathe, bathing is a must). I never thought it was possible to do without it. However it is not that universal as it is made to sound. This is something I see in hostel. I don’t know if I should blame the schedule or the laziness these guys are drowned in. There are categories. Some of them don’t bathe at all; some bathe once a month or on special occasions (such as going out!); some bathe once a week and a very few bathe everyday. This wouldn’t have been my concern if people around don’t stink so much. And I am sure they know they do. Why on earth would anyone want to be stinking? Why? Don’t they have a conscience (Yes, I believe it is almost unethical to not bathe!) that pricks them? I wish they did. I wish things would magically change and people would start bathing everyday (or at least once in two days)...or am I just asking for too much?

Sunday, as it went by...

The time is 3 a.m and its not a very happy Monday morning for reasons more than one. I have lectures to attend. Around 150(!) pages to copy mindlessly. My exams are coming up in fifteen days. Oh! Make that ten. Four extremely (and unjustifiably) complicated papers which go by the names of International Law, Taxation Law, Jurisprudence and Intellectual (hardly!) Property Law. And most importantly, I just finished wasting an entire Sunday CRIMINALLY. Someone kill me. Please. The entire thought of it has clogged my mind. How could I be so shameless? Why so lazy? From where have I picked up the art of procrastinating (so smoothly that is)? In which decade am I going to realize the need to work? Who would tolerate this when I am not able to do it myself! Well. There are a million such questions that I can ask myself but where is it heading? Ok. Loosen it. Lets analyze the Sunday to see if some hints peek out!

I woke up at eight with the happy news that mom has reached Madras. It is really comforting to be woken up by one's mother, even if its just by a phone call, after a long long time. When I finished the call, it took me just five seconds to convince myself about the 16 hours ahead of me to toil and as to how I deserve (as a matter of some sort of a right?) to sleep for a few more minutes. Thereby, promptly dozed off! Again my phone screamed! But the time was 9:30 then and that shook me out of the bed! Made coffee (which certainly needs no reminder). Set my bed table to write notes. Opened my laptop (now this is where the tragedy kicks in) and started to check my mail. For about two hours, I did nothing but check mail, orkut, facebook, blog page, etc. The time rushed to twelve when I was dragged out to print out tickets and collect reading materials. Lunch. Returned to the room. Time was two and my eyes automatically shut out. Yes! They protest if made to work beyond two in the afternoon. Afternoon nap in an odd position (basically pillow on the floor, my head hanging out, legs up against the wall and hands cuffed under my neck)! And when I woke up, the time was nearly four. I quickly set them up again and started writing tax notes...nearly ten pages and I took three hours! In order to appreciate this immensely satisfying accomplishment of mine, I decided to play a game. And I did for two hours. That's when dinner was served in the mess and I feasted on some surprisingly nice food. I then started writing notes. Just started. Which means writing a few words. Gtalk and an ebook held me back for nearly six hours, with a few conversations with roommates in the middle.

So precisely I was doing all that till this moment! And now obviously, I am terribly sleepy. I cant believe I spent it this way. Utterly forlorn! I do all this even if my eyes burn and stomach growls in hunger. But academic work? No. Hmm... Sundays are precious. And I have realized its worth only after its departure. Now even if I wait for another Sunday, its not going to be the same. Its not going to be 14th September. Its not going to be eleven days to exams anymore. Its ten now. Okay. That's enough. I know I don't need to be getting so emotional about it but you know what I mean... I am just hopeless! This happens with me every time and I never never learn! Let it be! Lets overwork this week. Or may be to begin with, lets just try to sit down in one place and work...

MMKR. A Recall.

"...sundari neeyum sundaran n(y)anum sendhirundhal thiruonam..."

I am sure anyone of us with an ounce of interest in watching good tamil flicks would know this song, this movie and of course, about Kamal's stunning performance. MMKR- Michael Madana Kama Rajan. It is one hell of a movie. I was watching some of the scenes of MMKR on youtube today (yes! the movie is available on youtube) and couldnt resist it. Mention it somewhere. I had to blog about it. I had a big bellylaugh over watching Oorvashi and Kamal romance, man! They were stunning!




So here I go. Pen down things I liked about the characters in the movie-

• Kamal as Kameshwara- The Palakhadu accent was a step above perfect. And the character was so accurately structured to match a clear blend of an innoncent and an orthodox know-all. Without the need for any repetition or emphasis, it was smoothly fused in the plot continuously making us crack-up.
• Urvasi as Thirupurasundari- Effortlessly funny. Her method of telling Kamal of her pati's petty thefts was unmatched.
  
• Urvasi's Pati- How did they make this character? So cute! Yet irritating! Literally makes you talk to the screen! :(
  
• Kamal as Rajan- Slapstick so well adapted. The jokes flowed from conversations with other charachters. You didnt have to wait to hear him speak actually. His expressions were so GOOD!
  
• Beemboy- So goofy and adorable! The height and abnormal physique! And the way he would just listen to Michael, his boss.

A few picks... (Sorry I have just put in Kamal-Urvashi bits because they were just overwhelmingly funny!)

Kamal: Yarukku kalyanam? (And as Urvashi points a finger at him) Naeka? (And as she turns the finger to point it at herself) Noaka? (And as she does both together again) Naekum Noakum-a?...

Another. Urvasi: Enadhu idhu... katindrukom? Kamal: Katindrukom-a? (Pause and then realizes what he is doing) Oh... Aamam... Aana venumnu pannala kettiya... Pechuvakkula theriyalai...Nan poitu varen... (And he opens the cupboard) Urvashi: Ayayo ha ha he he ha ha... Kamal: Ha ha ha vashal-nu nenachu beerwa-va thorandhuten (!) Ha ha ha he he he hi hi hi...

Kamal: Propaer Palakhadu illa...oru kuk-gramam Urvashi: Gramamum cook-a, neengalum cook-u (!) Ha ha he he hi hi...

As he catches her red-handed with chella-petti, Kamal: Nee thirupura sundari illa, thiruttu sundari... :)

And then what? I just remember spotting myself under the bed in tears of laughter!!! I love these agraharam types comedies!! :)

Seven Reasons NOT to Possess an IBM Laptop

Let me be of some use.

1. The battery SUCKS. For most of my friends, in a year, the battery life went down to 20 minutes or less than that which means you have to hang the charger around your neck 24/7.
2. Its keypad is fragile as an eggshell. So you have to be extremely careful while using them.
3. The volume intensity of the speakers is very bad. You either have to use earphones or external speakers for the normal volume.
4. The screen of your monitor will have lines of different colours, lengths and thicknesses running across. And this makes it look extra ugly and extra inconvenient.
   
5. Features. Whats that? That is how anyone who has had only an IBM laptop would react. Its got only the basic basic features making it the most boring gadget in this world!
   
6. It has the most unattractive look ever. Its black and looks like a government register. And is quite heavy compared to its counterparts.
7. Their service is pathetic. First, you have wait for ages to get your laptop back. Second, you will definitely go back again with the same problem. Third, this is a vicious cycle. Fourth, going to IBM office is like visiting NASA. Access system is so complicated. People are worse. Thanks to the three year warranty, though. However, they don't have provisions to extend your warranty.

These are the seven reasons from my experience. I am sure there are more than a hundred reasons not to buy an IBM Laptop. In the three years I have had it, I have felt like breaking it into a million pieces at least a million times. So for God's sake, don't commit the sin. Or you will be doomed for the rest of your fellowship with that stupid thing!

Blahs!

Rise and shine. Projects again.

Dude! I am in fourth year now! Why on earthy am I still asked to write research papers?! SICK AND TIRED of this humdrum exercise! Its so boring! This is the fortieth paper I am working on in a span of three years and three months. Its beyond me. Not only because of the pressure and fatigue. There is more to it. Its FUTILE. I can assure I haven't learned much from it! I mean its not even funny anymore. Such a mechanical drill. You pick your topic. Stand in the queue and consult the teacher. Sometimes you also have to come for a second one to suck up. Most of what happens in the consultation can never be considered even remotely helpful. Then with those awful thoughts about fear of plagiarism, lack of originality and need for analysis, you drag yourself to the library only to find 10000 others like you there! With much difficulty, you find a few articles here and there, a few pages of books and priceless advice from friends (and rarely a senior's project!). Spend at least 500 bucks (as if!) on photocopy ing the research as you are not allowed to issue more than one book or issue certain other expensive books. Whats more interesting here is now we have just one photocopy machine handled by a useless dork (who hates me as much as I hate him!) and I have to stand a queue for hours together (not to forget carry FAT books) to get a few pages photocopied. As this gets over, the most amazing (oooh ooh oooh!) part comes in. Read them, analyze the inputs, form research questions (wow! how exciting!), arrive at your opinions (which I am usually good at but not when it comes to law!) and suggest effective changes to our legal system (like they are all waiting for me to publish it)! During the process of doing your projects, you have to wait for extensions as well. You wait wait wait and wait to get a two-day extension which is clearly not enough considering the constraints on campus- network failure and when it works, it is slowest wireless network possible, library will be shut when we need it the most, power cuts, etc. With all this you make a somewhat okay project. Mail the softcopy (a bandwagon introduced by teachers one after the other in an attempt to check for plagiarism) to the teacher. Oh you know what? It doesn't end here! We then have a stimulating interactive event called presentation followed by viva in which you will be reminded of how hopeless your existence is. Sigh. After this, the marks range from 19-24/35 for me (after the deduction of marks for late submission). Is this even worth it?!

At this point, I only feel used. Used by this system. And I'll make sure Bar Council of India (and the other intellects responsible for this wretched system) learns how it has killed all my peace! Bah!

Madras Kalangal!

When memories decided to visit me.

This morning when I was heating water to make coffee for myself (and of course, dreading the idea of working on projects), memories of my childhood in Madras suddenly flashed by for a second... Don't know if their intention was to remind me of how pathetic it is to stay away from home or to just make me smile for at least those few seconds. So I thought I'll put down a few words about the lovely days in Madras. My typical morning, then, was something like this...

Wake up at four forty five after amma reminds you the time (oh yeah, I turn deaf when I am sleeping- so alarm clocks don’t work. I need a person to literally shake me from the slumber) only to feel so stupid to have woken up so late(!) (interestingly, I do yoga immediately after I wake up not consciously but the way I stretch and turn looks like some sort of an abnormal unstructured yoga)… And then I sluggishly walk into the kitchen for a quick review of the day's menu (which is usually dosa and sambhar, kootu-sadham, paruppu thoghaiyal or the likes) with amma and tell her what I dreamed of the previous night (mostly about how I was honoured as the Chief Justice of India or how the entire Chennai is praising me about my thoughtful arguments in a happening case(!) or how I bought a stylish black Ford Ikon)... Then obviously as anybody would expect, brush my teeth but for five minutes humming my favourite kollywood hit not realizing that five minutes have passed until anna queues up behind there with a evlavu-thechalum-pallu-onnum-vellaya-minna-pordhu-illa-look on his face...By then anna playing loud English music (as opposed to any normal form of suprabatham or adityahrudayam) and with a Kumbakonam degree kaapi (something you shouldn't miss- the best way coffee beans and chicory can be combined) and a fight with anna about how I should be allowed to check my mail first because I have Maths tuition (which is the fate of every Board-class student of Chennai) at five thirty, my day actually begins... One round of Gmail and Yahoo after which at five, my heart beat races as I realize I have not done my math homework (which invariably is a worksheet of 100 odd questions) and so I quickly sit down to see what damage-control I can do in the given twenty minutes... Two questions here, two questions there. Then after telling amma varen (and being corrected for the nth time to say poitu varen and not just varen), I run out of the house to see my TVS-Excel ready to gear me up for the day...

After ninety minutes of mindless rambling at Math tuition, I get back home at seven fifteen and park my bike under a tree outside my house... look up at the veranda (mine is a first floor apartment) to see appa reading the newspaper (we only read The Hindu)... and then get indoors to see Rajam cleaning the house religiously... I quickly go to the kitchen to peek into what amma is doing and usually grab raw ingredients (such as chapathi maavu, vadam, maggi noodles, etc) as I switch over to a coversation with appa to learn what the CM's plans(!) about Tamil Nadu are... And then iron my yellow-grey uniform to get ready to go...

At seven forty five, appa, anna and me sit for breakfast in the hall before the TV (appa waiting eagerly for the Sun News Channel update) as amma gets hot-hot dosas and chinna vengayam/vendakka sambhar (or with ghee :D)... Appa then questions me about how far I have reached in Accountancy (In the fifteen years of schooling, this is the only subject he was ever interested in for obvious reasons- he is an Accounts Manager himself)….And when I tell him Sir has reached company accounts, he starts recollecting his reminiscences about company accounts (Yes, I know people grow weirder as years pass. How else can you justify somebody reacting so positively about company accounts?!) Then its time for listening to the usual things from amma and appa such as "pocket-la kaasu irukka?, fast-a otadha vandiya, lunch michham vaikama sapdu, paathu poitu va, saingalam oor suthhama veedu vandhu seru"...

With that, I rush to school at eight ten... obviously not realizing then that they were going to be the best days of my life! :)

Fortunately, a TAM!

Please don't mind the Tamness! :D

Somewhere in law school, one begins to feel the explosive need to defend one's language, one's caste, one's hometown...say one's everything. And I am no exception to it. I started to represent Madras and slowly shifted to telling people (who wouldn't listen) about the place and language, then to support...then to defend...and now wouldn't mind FIGHTING for it. At the same time, its beginning to feel like an exercise I am almost tired of. May be the moment has come to withdraw myself from these immature politics (that I was a part of) and just breathe out "fortunately, I am a Tam!" I mean withdrawal actually looks solemn when thought of as an idea to experience my culture without having to feel the need to defend it.

I am happy (probably the happiest) to come from Madras (as I would like to call it) and NOT any other place in the world. Tamil pesardh-la oru thani sugam irukku...Adhellam inga varadhu! To speak Tamil in this godforsaken place is not to be considered for a few reasons:
(a) dearth of people who know anything other than Hindi
(b) convenient use of Article 19(1)(a)... probably the only thing they can jump to
(c) fear of diluting the actual beauty of my language
(d) and of course, common sense (which I don't think is that common here) that language is for effective communication (i.e. at least the addressee must be able to understand the bloody thing) and NOT to create differences in the society.

But thankfully, there are a few others who look at it from a normal perspective- who believe and respect the diversity. May be, that is why I still haven't taken to any violent methods to combat it! Tell me which idiot would like it if you go on and on in some imperceptible language (and then say, sorry bhai, it comes out naturally yaar!).

Coming to why Madras is very special to me. I mean its not only because it brought me up or because I can express myself more freely there...but also because its so quiet and simple yet SO rich. Even if you want to criticize the place, it can only be for it's weather and the malicious autokaranga. Otherwise, it is a paradise. A gem. At least it is comparatively free of people who believe in one national language. It is reasonably clean and unpolluted. And it works best for me because people don't break things and kill eachother for nuts and cookies. Not much of a traffic jam here because the city wakes up early. Its conservative and hence, safer compared to its counterparts. Semma transport system (MTC rocks machi!). Marina Beach and sundal. And so much more.

Namma Madras. Tamil. Dosa-Sambhar. Suprabadham. Arisi-mavu Kolam. Madisar Mamis. Tea Kada. Gana Padalgal. Chettiyar kadai. Pillayar Kovil. Bharathanatyam. Margazhi Pugazh. I can instantly see a smile coming out of my face as the list goes on in my mind...! :)

Health and Deliciousness: An Irony?

The Desire to have Tasty Foods Healthy...

Whats with my obsession? I am so committed to eating, eating and only eating. This overeating disorder of mine has led to a gain of nearly 9 kilos in 25 months. I still don't understand if I do it consciously or not. And whats the irony about it as my title suggests to say?! The irony is about how every little thing tasty has to be unhealthy in one way or the other. This includes all my favourites- pizzas, french fries, chocolate mousse, parathas and paneer butter masala, cheese n noodles, coke, cappuccino and liquid chocolate. Hence, I have made up my mind to blame destiny for the weight-gain and not me, a mere mortal.

The other day, I had this sudden craving to go grab a hot double-cheese margherita and some iced tea from Domino's for lunch. Yes, I could go ahead and do it as long as I have two hundred bucks. However, I had to confront this eternal question and ponder about it for nearly an hour before I could actually convince my mind to quench my craving rather leave it hanging. And the eternal question is about how destiny emphasizes on getting the sadistic pleasure of letting everything tasty be unhealthy or at least not so recommended (or nutritious). On the other hand, it is very simple to have it like this- Why can't pizza be rich in vitamins, fibre, minerals, etc and still be as tasty?! Isn't it simpler that way? I can have what I want to have and yet be not bothered about the entire trauma of calculating how many calories it would cost me. Or if you want me to look at it from both sides- why should cappuccino be delicious with only empty calories. Where is the balance in this system that everybody talks about? I demand that there be a balance between taste and nutrition- as in the degree of deliciousness must be directly proportional to its nutrition content. Fair enough, right? This way, people are eating healthy food with a positive mind. In fact, they would have more and more of it. Aah...What would that be like!

Simply put, all I want is one day (or may be a week?) when I can eat whatever (everything, if possible) I want and not gain a single calorie out of it. Also, on that day, I would want to gain the richest source of calcium from cheese, vitamins from chocolate, fibre from oily parathas and minerals from cappuccino. Or to be more selfish, pizzas could actually help me lose weight. Wow. Now this is why I call myself an eternal optimist...I actually think it will happen someday. Till it actually happens, I shall merely dream of living in that virtual period!

Why This Idea?

I have no clue why, at around 2 o'clock in the morning, I have created this account to blog. Well, not all things start with a purpose. Some begin aimlessly and find it somehow during the course while some begin to finish without any purpose. I don't wish to categorize my attempt as either. It is simply to take a break and bridge the gap between the mind and the mouth. It doesn't need any purpose, does it?! It has a right to exist as it is, I hope. I am beginning to sound unnaturally philosophical... trying to give this a very pseudo start. Not so me, I should say.

Well, on a more practical plane, I should admit that I am more than happy to see my posts "published" on a not-so-random website here which has more readers than any famous classic, I bet. The word "published" thrilled me. Yes, I am a law student trying hard to get something of MINE published somewhere. Predictably, this is coming from an underachiever who is not so bothered about it. Yet, someday I am sure destiny will let me regret the fact. Also, I have been wanting to talk my thoughts without having to answer weird glances and prompt clarifications from companions. So, I guess this is the way. It is neither a conversation nor a monologue. It prefers to be one of its kind and one without a name.

With this, I am quite sure none of us have actually understood the purpose of this post. But it clearly gives an idea that I am extremely random. Extremely(!). But wait! I am convincing my mind to be more comprehendible to the rest of the world. But it persistently requests me for some more time. So, bear with me. Sigh.