Amazing people who make me go on n on n on:)

26 January, 2011

All that hoopla about Flirting-Sigh!

While rummaging around for Jawarhar Lal Nehru’s picture for the last post, Google brought to me some more interesting facts about his persona and extra-curricular activities.

Though I had sighed and cringed and pined in ‘Impressionable Reading!’ about his unfaltering loyalty and exemplary love, interestingly Google says Lady Edwina Mountbatten was not the only one who was flushed by his overflowing juices of mush, drenching many a women in ecstasy.

Hmm...Kya baat hain, Nehru ji, India’s very own n perhaps the only Casanova n charismatic Prime Minister.

The ‘stumbled upon’ post mentioned that Nehru could not help being an incorrigible flirt. Wow...path breaking-the man who wrote The Discovery of India, seems like he made many cute discoveries for his own wandering self too.

My first impulsive reaction to that was of OMG and I felt he just fell thud down from the enviable altar that I had unpretentiously sited him on.
On second thoughts*and thank god for them*I pondered over if it really was such a blasphemous sin to tarnish the poor guys’ super dapper clean stint otherwise?

Is flirting as bad as the general scrunching of noses that it evokes, followed by an unreasonable character assassination?
Could Nehru really help it, being in the enviable prime position that he was and thereby privileged to come across the crème of the society?
Many of these would have been women who were distinguished in exceptional lady like graces and would evoke praise even from their own gender...and in such a predicament, my friends....kya hua body Prime Minister ke hain to...aakhir dil to bachcha he hain na ji!

I have never tried to be a hypocrite and hide the fact that I love to flirt.
I often cite it as a favourite hobby where I feel the listeners would not be shocked into an untimely demise caused by irreversible stroke of heart failure.
Occasional flirting keeps me creative juices flowing and provides me the mind games that keep me at the edge.

And I don’t pretend to do it under covers, I make my beloved stand with me and watch me play and watch him smile.
He knows he would never find me in a bevy of ladies twittering about the mundane, but in a circle of men, bursting into guffaws for I would be enthralling with a tease*sigh for those days too as post Seeya my reins seem to suddenly go in a heartbreaking state of own heart breaking that is, rather than of anyone else*

Of course though in most cases it is harmless and more of ‘blah, blah’ big talk than thunderous and volcanic “actions”!
*Look at my comment box for example...I never miss an opportunity!*
And whenever it has fringed on being harmful to my mangal sutra and maathe ka sindoor, I let the urges pass by and sigh some more.
*What the if by sighing less I would reduce the global I sigh to my heart’s!*

My point is...why does flirting harbour in the territory of negative discretion by the so-called social guardians?
With education and self dependence, opening up of minds and perceptions, it is a very natural urge to impress the opposite sex into a belief that you are a cut above the rest in your gender.

It is an unsurpassable ego boost to have someone intellectual, be inclined to hear you for he finds you interesting enough to hold a conversation*of course in case of men, let’s say the ego boost would come by someone sexy as hell, inclined to see you for she finds you interesting enough to bed...and there we sigh again! Please don’t keep a sigh count in this post....numerically that would be a challenge and hence this statutory warning for I like my readers to have a furrow free mind*

Another point of dispute here would be the very definition of flirting.
One man’s dip may be another man’s drowning*ah...what a mind-blowing twist in the the world a new, blaze a trail theory...
I am so damn good that I sometimes scare myself only*

Like take me for example*yes, a scapegoat again for the experimentation to derive onto pioneering conclusions that alter the destiny of mankind*
What I term as flirting you might deem as just interesting and intriguing conversational skills and if you are crass and unintelligent and pseudo-modern, you might call me a kalank to naari-jaat!

I like to hold the interest of a man in my conversation...
I sometimes let the laughs flow like a natural cascade and smiles to remain a permanent fixture on my pretty face.
And I might unwittingly ask you questions that show my genuine interest in you. Contrary to what my blogs project, I am a better listener than a talker.
I notice, I sometimes bat my eyelids a little too innocently or use the signature handshake of my softest of hands to make a point.
As if making these things ain’t enough I also make the wittiest of repartee and rebuttals without wasting a moment of thought on it.
My voice sometimes becomes huskier than usual and somehow a twirl of a lock of hair playfully dangles down my forehead.
Alrite, maybe I don’t use all of these arsenals together but I have seen them being used and win many a quaint battles.

Of course also these are observations and not conscious deliberations.
But the frequency of these naturally occurring behaviour patterns, made me stumble upon the idea that may be I am a natural flirt and these instinctive urges flow out without so much as even an effort required from my side.

Like I said...some may deem that as just dipping my feet in the troubled waters and others might rip me apart for having the waters gone past my head already.

Flirting is an integral thread of the fabric of today’s society and anyone out there with a reasonable amount of impression made has used it to reach where he is...consciously or greater degrees or less...garbing it in the array of charm or flaunting it in the wake of his sexuality.

So can the moral police please rest in peace and let the flirt games begin!

P.S. I do have some standards flirting with the author in the wake of this post, without the essential back-up of my list of requirements may be injurious to your health.

22 January, 2011

Impressionable Reading!

It is amazing how sometimes some things that you read move you to the core n stay with you long after your eyes have waded though those written words that blot the paper.

I remember reading Ritu Beri, the famous fashion designer somewhere...
She was invited to a high flier brunch by one of her English friends.
She reached the quaint suburban villa to see about a dozen ladies sitting pretty and twittering little nothings around a round table.
Ritu was led by the gracious hostess to her seat and slowly the chit chat began. She introduced herself to a lady called Danielle and after the pleasantries, Ritu unconsciously harboured upon how tough she was finding it to manage work n social calls and her home, due to the fact that she had recently had a baby.

After sometime of whining n blabbering on her harsh calls, she suddenly stopped short and a little embarrassed, when she realized she had spoken so much about her troubled state of affairs to a stranger and muttered an apology saying she won’t really understand it.

Then Danielle remarked, “No, I wouldn’t...I am just raising nine of them.”
She was not just any Danielle you would find on the prim English streets.
She was THE Danielle Steele-the fêted author of uncountable mush drenched, best sellers. Those were top selling books that she wrote between changing diapers and singing lullabies for nine babies...omg!

How bloody beautiful is that, isn’t it?
Makes you feel so small for whimpering about ‘me, me, and why me’ in the face of the mildest brush of a storm.

I also vividly remember leafing through somewhere about the ‘mute romance or really?’ between Pandit Jawahar Lal Nehru and Lady Mountbatten, the better half of the then Viceroy of the British-India Empire, Lord Mountbatten, apparently in the latter’s full knowledge and perhaps approval.

She was a striking embodiment of all the British suave and nuances and he, the charming leader of eloquent speaker and an unparalleled wizard of words.

It is said that after a very brief encounter of secretly admiration and then perchance open confrontation to each other of the unquenchable undercurrent of an attraction...they were separated.
Not bogged by distance, Pt. Nehru wrote a letter EVERY day to Edwina till the rest of his days, laying bare his love-anguished heart and a suitcase full of these heart rendering mails was discovered after her demise.

Omg...can you imagine the intensity of such love?
The urgency of performing this as a sacred and unbreakable ritual despite having a million teething troubles of a nation just born on your head?
What an unfathomable exchange must have transpired between the two to evoke this allegiance in the fickle matters of heart!
Absolutely unsurpassable!

Even in this age of internet when doing so is possible just at the click of a button and if not a mail...even a phone message would certify*thanks to free messaging plans*...would anyone still do it and continue to do it every day till the very end?

Another impressionable mention should be made of what I came across about Umberto Echo, a university professor at Bologna, Italy.
He taught for most of the day as well as wrote books on semiotics, children’s books, academic texts, essays and also the best selling fiction novel ‘The Name of the Rose’ which had sold 10 million copies in those times. His written output is staggeringly large and he had acquired the equivalent of intellectual stardom.

When asked how could he manage to do it all within the constraints of just 24 hours in a did he find time?
Echo simply and enigmatically replied with a brilliant allegory and explanation. The world is made of atoms, with empty spaces in between them.
If we remove the empty spaces, the atoms could fill up perhaps just in our palm. Similarly he finds these empty spaces in his schedules which gave him the larger-than-life attitude.
Between the duration when a visitor would reach from the ground floor to his doorstep through the elevator, he said he would have written an article.
That’s the relevance of such fissures that each one has in his life no matter how break-neck is his agenda.
Some squander it away in waiting for the next thing to happen, some use it...squeeze it to the core to derive the next big thing!

If only I could ever write/suggest/relate something half as job here is done!

15 January, 2011

I Kinda Hate Growing up!

I kinda like being a grown up but I kinda hate growing up!
Sometimes I resist growing up...
For it means giving up on
~The thought that books could actually teach me all.
~That Santa Claus does descend with joys n hence I left my door ajar in the freezing night with the biggest stocking I could find, by my bed side.
~When I watched over EVERY act of mine for eventual accountability, dreading that heaven n hell does exist, even if they were not on the map.
~When I convinced myself that my life sucked for I had no real best friend like on the series F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
~When the only thing I was responsible for were the grades at school.
~When it was not drilled in, that you could yearn only as per what you earned.

~When birthdays were big and little gifts-bigger.
~When getting wet in the rain was as simple as just extending your step out under the open sky.
~When even a little loose change in the pocket was enough to give me a sense of security.
~When ‘Branded’ was a term used to imply types of television, refrigerators or stereo sets and the likes.
~When you kept getting up to check your bed sides for a phantom after watching a horror movie.
~When I believed fervently that my parents would never die.

~When journeys were begun without the process of working out the destination n path details.
~When I didn’t have to think so many times before making a mere phone call.
~When I believed that manipulative people would LOOK evil and if you keep doing right there is no way wrong would come your way.
~When patting your back was not an extension of back biting.
~When I asserted only perishable products had a shelf-life and not relationships.

~When I could just break down before my mother instead of pretending to be brave.
~When a tear itching the heart was not masked by the explanation of something itching the eye.
~When ‘logic’ was a big word that you had little to do with.
~When you could do whatever made you happy without the fear of being deemed as childish.
~When you said what you felt rather than what you felt would be preferred to be heard.

I kinda like being a grown up but I kinda hate growing up!

08 January, 2011

Missing the Kissing!

I remember preaching to you guys on the art of kissing.
If you do not...get enlightened all over again in my post “IT’S IN HIS KISS”

And I am back to KISS again...
Actually I’d prefer back to KISSING rather than to KISS or back-kissing mind and in everyone’s sanity n better interests, let’s not discuss what “I” prefer anyways.

What’s with people now-a-days indulging in so much concentrated activity of the lips?
Ghor kalyug, I tell you!
My little Seeya is growing up n it kinda bothers me.
I mean in such a scenario, you can’t have her mom being tempted by such blatant show of indulgences to deviate, can you?
Ya...I know, you know what I mean!

Yes, look around and anyone is kissing everyone or at least someone and new year’s eve is the worst time to witness such shameless outbursts of tendencies in human species much to the annoyance of those who don’t get much or enough...alrite, more than enough of it*so I am greedy...sue me!*

Gross...helloooo people, get a place for such acts that screw the happiness of lesser mortals, living with an occasional peck on the cheeks in their everyday humdrums or at least not such that take our breath away...EVERYday.
And what in God’s name is wrong with these heroines n heroes...inke ghar mein baap, bhai, ma, behen nahi hain kya?
All of them are so engrossed in lip locks that can put even the famous Raja Hindustani to shame.
Gone are the days when females squirmed watching onscreen passion in shame of those sitting around is now shame of having no one to try on what you see, that is more ghastly!

And you frustrated directors-those kisses are so well focussed and zoomed in and excruciatingly prolonged that they keep us half awake half the bloody night, twisting n turning on our bed.
Who in god’s name is accountable for all that sighing that this evokes?
You are indirect contributors to global warming...bhagwan ke ghar jaake in sab ka hissab dena padega manushya.
*Okay, time for me to shut up with my lambasting before I sound frustrated*

What is with women/girls n kisses?

~We can never have enough of them*I mean I can be smooched all day n still feel it was just testing n tasting...bring on the main course*!

~With many n most of us, a good kiss is as good as the climax, of the entire act that is! If you want to go where no man has gone before, try looking for the entry on top of things instead of getting to the bottom. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach n to a woman’s is through her lips. Any woman who denies that has never been kissed the way she should be.

~We always measure a guy’s credibility in areas otherwise through his expertise in using his lips*I am even worse, I often measure the entire guy just by a look at his lips-the lips can tell it all. And please don’t ask me more on the “measure” part* A good kisser is a lambi race ka ghoda for sure n period.

~The way a man kisses also reveals how many women he has kissed...ha, gotcha! You men think unlike women you have no tell-tales...hehe...think again. Yes, it can...for free demo please contact the owner of this site especially n only if you have full protruding delicious pink lips*and extra-stressed ‘only’ if you belong to the male gender. Women only get enlightment n no me biased, but that’s how I am*

~A kiss can unlock unknown portals of the mind n if you are lucky, also of the body*why do you think women close their eyes when they kiss, eh...time to open other things else...mmmm. If she has her eyes open n watching u, she’s not ready yet*

~Most guys suck at kisses...I mean literally n otherwise.
Many feel there’s something to eat when they open their mouths and get down to it*no puns intended*
Many have such overflowing juices by the mere brush of the lips that all those juices end up flooding your mouth....isssshhhh...the feeling of getting your mouth stuck in an unset jelly bowl is very creepy...
A bad kisser is definitely a no-miss-er;-) let’s ask you guys...
What has been your most memorable kiss?
What’s your kissing style?
And how do you please your man/woman/both with those things god bestowed you with under your nose?

I know you are dying to know my best kiss:
Well, at the risk of being shameless and almost flaunting it here...
I remember this one time when I was pinned against the wall and the lip lock lasted for so long that I literally got out of breath and was gasping.
It left me with such swollen lips that I could almost give Angelina Jolie a run for her money-a gentle brush of the lips that started with a pull of the lower lip, went on to a tender suck at the upper lip and then the closing in on the entire mouth and the tongues taking over in a mad frenzy rush!
Aaaaaaaaand there I go again...showing to the world why this blog needs an A-certificate:-)

But OMYYYYYYYGAAAAAAWD....I need a kiss now!
So do u mind me signing off...kisse ke zindage n maut ka sawaal hain!
Happy kissing in 2011!
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