doesn't come from taps. Really
It flows from glaciers which are melting.
and from forests which are being destroyed, degraded, devastated.
What, Dr Prime Minister, will happen to your GDP once you have no water?
i wonder if they taught you in school that water is the basis of life..though i guess where you come from, GDP is more important than life
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
on being single...
Inside of me, I am at ease being single, even if life isn’t all Haa Haa Hee Hee. There are no dire thoughts that I’ll die lonely and the body will lie undiscovered and the cadaver be eaten by the dog (Doberman, according to the irrepressible Bridget Jones). For one, I do have friends who I am sure will wonder when they stop getting panicked phone calls at midnight. Panicked, for the tap leaks, or I am stranded at the airport-which is as good a reason as any to have a Man around. For another, my dog loves me, and he won't make a feast of my remains. There is no terror either ,that the biological clock is ticking for reasons best left unsaid, nor the dread that we live in a world without Men. Let me rectify that one, there are Men(if you can call them that), but no Good Men-for that in itself is an oxymoron—and if I do hear sounds of protests from the male of the species, come forward mate, and debate. In the open. Like a Man.
I will leave the issue of the paucity of remotely appropriate male species aside-it will take forever, and I for one, belong to the school of thought that there is an equal scarcity of Good Women, and I am the last of them. So there.
As I had started saying, before I wandered astray, as I am wont to, I am at ease with Singledom within me, if only it were not for the outside world, which has taken it upon themselves to treat the single status as a disease of sorts. An infectious one. As though if one got too near their dearly beloved daughters it would catch and condemn the poor darlings from a similar fate. I tried to tell them that marital bliss is not always that, and does mean washing smelly socks and putting up with wet toilet seats and possessive mother-in-laws, but to no avail. I mentioned disease, because suddenly the whole world-your aunt, friend, neighbour, doctor, dhobi—want to cure and rectify-and dangle and parade these Men before you. Twice married, and counting. I couldn’t surely be single out of choice, they exclaim in horror, as I decline graciously. Why refuse holy matrimony, so what if the prospective bridegroom was suspected of axe murder. Ok, so I exaggerate, but I do draw the line at waking up, everyday of my life-or as long as the marriage lasts-with someone who lacks the IQ of even my dog (the dog understands-and obeys me), or stink like yesterday’s fish. So, please all you matchmakers out there-leave the Manhunt to me. Even worse are friends-though I baulk to use the word for this one-who imagine that I am on the prowl, (“a cat in heat” they called a sweet friend of mine, recently widowed, and still in mourning) and will lunge at their husbands. There is no humour here, my friend, this one saddens, sickens me. To imagine I would stoop so low, to betray a friend-for the sake of man. No. No way. No man is worth it. No man. And this one is for all you men out there too. I am single-I don’t know your command over the language, but last I looked in the dictionary, it didn’t translate to “desperate, looking for sex.” Truly, look it up, if you don’t believe me.
I will leave the issue of the paucity of remotely appropriate male species aside-it will take forever, and I for one, belong to the school of thought that there is an equal scarcity of Good Women, and I am the last of them. So there.
As I had started saying, before I wandered astray, as I am wont to, I am at ease with Singledom within me, if only it were not for the outside world, which has taken it upon themselves to treat the single status as a disease of sorts. An infectious one. As though if one got too near their dearly beloved daughters it would catch and condemn the poor darlings from a similar fate. I tried to tell them that marital bliss is not always that, and does mean washing smelly socks and putting up with wet toilet seats and possessive mother-in-laws, but to no avail. I mentioned disease, because suddenly the whole world-your aunt, friend, neighbour, doctor, dhobi—want to cure and rectify-and dangle and parade these Men before you. Twice married, and counting. I couldn’t surely be single out of choice, they exclaim in horror, as I decline graciously. Why refuse holy matrimony, so what if the prospective bridegroom was suspected of axe murder. Ok, so I exaggerate, but I do draw the line at waking up, everyday of my life-or as long as the marriage lasts-with someone who lacks the IQ of even my dog (the dog understands-and obeys me), or stink like yesterday’s fish. So, please all you matchmakers out there-leave the Manhunt to me. Even worse are friends-though I baulk to use the word for this one-who imagine that I am on the prowl, (“a cat in heat” they called a sweet friend of mine, recently widowed, and still in mourning) and will lunge at their husbands. There is no humour here, my friend, this one saddens, sickens me. To imagine I would stoop so low, to betray a friend-for the sake of man. No. No way. No man is worth it. No man. And this one is for all you men out there too. I am single-I don’t know your command over the language, but last I looked in the dictionary, it didn’t translate to “desperate, looking for sex.” Truly, look it up, if you don’t believe me.
Going Solo
It is really not so terrible, travelling alone. Quite the contrary. It is quite painful if your fellow-traveller’s idea of a good time is to guzzle beer and sit in front of the idiot box (I have come here to relax, you know, not shop, walk, explore and so on). On a jungle safari, I would rather not have a companion who thinks that there is no paisa-vasool unless a tiger pops out from behind every bush and then wails like Banshee (EEEEEEEE, it will EAT me!) the moment he-she-they see one. On a working holiday, the burden of entertaining the martyred (Why have I come if all you do is work?) will effectively kill both components of your vacation: Holiday and Work. Anyway, me thinks that Superwoman does enough of a balancing act at home to worry about the same away from the hearth.
Thereby, I rest my case that the benefits of travelling alone outweigh the alternative. Except for the men. A lone wayfairer of the fair sex is, excuse my language, easy meat. It is as though she sported a signboard that said: I am alone! I am Easy. I am available.
The stunted male mind logically assumes that a woman on the move all by herself needs a male shoulder (actually, some other unmentionable part of the male anatomy). Noble being that he is, he offers to abbreviate the pain of the lonely female heart and warm her
desolate bed. All for a good cause. Of course, his heroic gesture is in most cases unwelcome. But then men seldom understand the word No.
The hints may be subtle, they usually start that way till the man in question becomes a little bolder if you make the mistake of allowing yourself a little smile: A warning here, if the smile is directed at him — in all innocence — will promptly label you a tease. The other kind of preposition is the swaggering, bold variety: How about a little fun, huh doll? I know you are dying for it, eh! Always, accompanied by a crude gesture. These types, trust me, are easier to handle than the more subtle characters. Same rule applies to the villain in question: The more sophisticated he is, more the chances of him being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Don’t live under the illusion that the suited-booted type is safe, just because he comes attired in Armani suits and Gucci shoes. Again, danger lurks not just in remote places, the sophisticated corridors of a five-star hotel are just as vulnerable. A married man showing pictures of his wife and adorable offspring could be undressing you mentally, waiting for just the right moment to pop the question.
Aside: Men have their uses on a vacation, primarily carrying luggage, arranging rooms etc. Don’t fall for the trap, pay a coolie instead, men ask for payment in kind. In all my solitary forays, I have concluded that there are no rules or strict formula of the men-to-avoid-while-on-tour. I just assume the worst and get a pleasant surprise when I am proven wrong. At the risk of sounding egoistic, I have to say I am rarely wrong.
• Keep your distance. Be firm, polite and not too friendly till you are sure you can trust the guy. Getting too friendly initially sends the wrong signals.
• Never, ever, smoke, even if you are an addict. That translates as available in Man’s World. Ditto for drinks.
• Take a book with you, be rude and say you prefer the book to him.
• In extreme cases, you can hang a mangalsutra round your neck before the trip (not much of a deterrent). The trick is to call, or pretend to call husba +
• + nd — real or imaginary — and whisper sweet nothings on the cell when things get shaky.
• Try to be in safe situations, with people around you. If you are staying in a lonely place, turn in for the night, locking your doors. Always keep a handy penknife with you.
Thereby, I rest my case that the benefits of travelling alone outweigh the alternative. Except for the men. A lone wayfairer of the fair sex is, excuse my language, easy meat. It is as though she sported a signboard that said: I am alone! I am Easy. I am available.
The stunted male mind logically assumes that a woman on the move all by herself needs a male shoulder (actually, some other unmentionable part of the male anatomy). Noble being that he is, he offers to abbreviate the pain of the lonely female heart and warm her
desolate bed. All for a good cause. Of course, his heroic gesture is in most cases unwelcome. But then men seldom understand the word No.
The hints may be subtle, they usually start that way till the man in question becomes a little bolder if you make the mistake of allowing yourself a little smile: A warning here, if the smile is directed at him — in all innocence — will promptly label you a tease. The other kind of preposition is the swaggering, bold variety: How about a little fun, huh doll? I know you are dying for it, eh! Always, accompanied by a crude gesture. These types, trust me, are easier to handle than the more subtle characters. Same rule applies to the villain in question: The more sophisticated he is, more the chances of him being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Don’t live under the illusion that the suited-booted type is safe, just because he comes attired in Armani suits and Gucci shoes. Again, danger lurks not just in remote places, the sophisticated corridors of a five-star hotel are just as vulnerable. A married man showing pictures of his wife and adorable offspring could be undressing you mentally, waiting for just the right moment to pop the question.
Aside: Men have their uses on a vacation, primarily carrying luggage, arranging rooms etc. Don’t fall for the trap, pay a coolie instead, men ask for payment in kind. In all my solitary forays, I have concluded that there are no rules or strict formula of the men-to-avoid-while-on-tour. I just assume the worst and get a pleasant surprise when I am proven wrong. At the risk of sounding egoistic, I have to say I am rarely wrong.
• Keep your distance. Be firm, polite and not too friendly till you are sure you can trust the guy. Getting too friendly initially sends the wrong signals.
• Never, ever, smoke, even if you are an addict. That translates as available in Man’s World. Ditto for drinks.
• Take a book with you, be rude and say you prefer the book to him.
• In extreme cases, you can hang a mangalsutra round your neck before the trip (not much of a deterrent). The trick is to call, or pretend to call husba +
• + nd — real or imaginary — and whisper sweet nothings on the cell when things get shaky.
• Try to be in safe situations, with people around you. If you are staying in a lonely place, turn in for the night, locking your doors. Always keep a handy penknife with you.
Dogs and Men
I love dogs. This invites a strange reaction: Is that because i hate men? I fail to grasp the relationship till a patient body explains that i love dogs 'coz they are faithful. Unlike men.
My take: . True.
But
I like, love, trust dogs. I like men--love and trust 'em? No, thanks.
And my love for dog is more dated than my mistrust of man.
My take: . True.
But
I like, love, trust dogs. I like men--love and trust 'em? No, thanks.
And my love for dog is more dated than my mistrust of man.
What Men don't (and should )know about women
1) Yes, we love flowers(and not just on anniversaries and birthdays). But we love a thoughtful gesture even more. Genuine caring rates higher anyday.
2) Surprise us. We love it.
3) Women remember everything. Really. Where we fist met-where we met for our first date-when. No, we don't expect you to remember it all-but as i said, surprise us-occasionally.
4)We do have PMS-and the resultant mood swings, and depression. Its physiological, not psychological. We don't make it up. And we don't like it, either.
5)When we talk about our problems, we don't want practical solutions-atleast not initially-we just want to be hugged and be told that it is all going to be fine.
6) we don't mind porn-in fact we wouldn’t mind watching it with you-but don't hide it, please. thats' sneaky.
7) A woman forgives a lot-but be man enough to ask for it.
8) We are strong, independent, but that doesn’t preclude being feminine. We do like to be indulged. And occasionally, we don't mind you being possessive either.
9) Forgive us our occasional dramatics, and we will forgive you your silences, and grunts.
10) No matter how much your woman loves you, there are going to be three to seven days each month when she wants you dead.
11) I read this one somewhere-loved it-Breasts are not speed bumps to the promised land!
12) We want you to talk-be verbal-express. Burping is not it.
13)Listen. Laugh with us, trust us to cry in front of us—and we’ll be yours.
2) Surprise us. We love it.
3) Women remember everything. Really. Where we fist met-where we met for our first date-when. No, we don't expect you to remember it all-but as i said, surprise us-occasionally.
4)We do have PMS-and the resultant mood swings, and depression. Its physiological, not psychological. We don't make it up. And we don't like it, either.
5)When we talk about our problems, we don't want practical solutions-atleast not initially-we just want to be hugged and be told that it is all going to be fine.
6) we don't mind porn-in fact we wouldn’t mind watching it with you-but don't hide it, please. thats' sneaky.
7) A woman forgives a lot-but be man enough to ask for it.
8) We are strong, independent, but that doesn’t preclude being feminine. We do like to be indulged. And occasionally, we don't mind you being possessive either.
9) Forgive us our occasional dramatics, and we will forgive you your silences, and grunts.
10) No matter how much your woman loves you, there are going to be three to seven days each month when she wants you dead.
11) I read this one somewhere-loved it-Breasts are not speed bumps to the promised land!
12) We want you to talk-be verbal-express. Burping is not it.
13)Listen. Laugh with us, trust us to cry in front of us—and we’ll be yours.
these are a few of my favourite things....
chilled cold coffee after a tired day..and white wine will do as well
--the warm trusting eyes of a pup..or my dog
--a cure-all hug, warm and tight
--snuggling up to watch a film, (plus a bucket of hot buttered popcorn)
--a walk up the mountain path..the sound of a stream
an unexpected wild encounter
--mists that envelope a green, green mountain
--watching stars on a silent, clear night
--the smell of fresh earth after the first rains
--calvin and hobbes
--discovering a book you had long hunted unexpectedly
--great book bargains and browsing at book stores
--the warm trusting eyes of a pup..or my dog
--a cure-all hug, warm and tight
--snuggling up to watch a film, (plus a bucket of hot buttered popcorn)
--a walk up the mountain path..the sound of a stream
an unexpected wild encounter
--mists that envelope a green, green mountain
--watching stars on a silent, clear night
--the smell of fresh earth after the first rains
--calvin and hobbes
--discovering a book you had long hunted unexpectedly
--great book bargains and browsing at book stores
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