December 30, 2010

T-Shirt Quote

Recently I came across a quote – Don’t agonize. Organize. – and thought to myself that it would be a perfect T-shirt quote for me. Or even, The Devil is in the details.

So what quote would you like to have on your Tee?
Something that defines YOU?
(Not looking for the 'insult-the-readers' kind.)

Could be a quote, a phrase you use often, something amusing, etc.
Try to be original, though I’m not that clearly!

The Right Way...

... to write the initials of a person is as follows:

M.K. Gandhi - Correct
M K Gandhi - Correct (or rather, considered acceptable these days; but remember, the space is necessary)
M.K Gandhi - Incorrect!

Remember, initials are after all abbreviations, and M.K doesn't really suggest anything. Nor does Vijitha.V!
Speaking of which, when you write JFK, it is fine to write it without the periods!

(Confused? English is confusing!)


I lost my debit card (something that happened a few days ago), and got it back too (!), all in a matter of… 60 seconds!

60 seconds because I realized that I had lost it, and then got it back, all at the same time. The funny thing is that I hadn’t realized it was missing until it was brought to my apartment. An Infoscion we know, who lives in the block next to ours, brought it to me. How? Her husband found it on the road!

You see, I’ve this purse that has a strap that can be slung around the wrist, and that’s how I usually carry it with me. There have been several times before where I’ve realized that I forget to zip it. So I’m assuming that’s what happened this time around too. I did some shopping near the other office and must’ve dropped it on the way back. But thankfully for me the card went into the right hands!

But then, I realized another thing. There is another MAJOR factor that ensured that I got that card back. My SIGNATURE!! Yes, that’s right. Go ahead, check your debit card if you don’t believe me. Barring that signature at the back, what can possibly (immediately) indicate who it belongs to??? I have always been advised by my dad to keep a “complicated” signature so that it cannot be forged (yes yes, he has a complex one!). I’ve been mocked by a few friends, because I literally “write my name” for a sign. Yea, my signature is a very-obvious Vijitha V. (in cursive writing!). I have not been successful at creating a signature that resembled a kid's doodle or scribble. Primarily because I can never, ever, reproduce the gibberishes I’ve tried the second time around (and there’s every possibility that I will be ‘caught’ for forgery if I’m unable to replicate my own signature)! So, sadly, I had resigned to the fact that my signature ain’t gonna be ‘fancy’ way back in 1999 (while renewing my passport, and subsequently for the Board Exams). But…THANK GOD for that! Simple is indeed beautiful!

So in short, these two things worked for me… Amen!

December 8, 2010


What do you do when you feel you need some time by yourself?

When you feel you need to ‘relax’ or ‘unwind’?
When you feel you need to ‘sort things out’ in your head?

Read? Listen to music? Watch TV? Go on a drive? Talk to someone you’re close to?

I clean.


That is when he always felt most alive.

When the air rushed through his hair.
When he saw the world whiz past him in a sequence of blurs.
When he felt the sheer exhilaration of speed.

When he felt that he was suspended in space – feeling light, yet rooted.

He always enjoyed his journeys on the footboard of that bus.
But not for
Those tiring long hours of standing.

The pollution, the dust, the grime.
Being a constant lookout for the driver.

But for moments like these.

The several trips they made seemed tolerable only because of this. He always waited for the highways. Those were stretches of road he could stretch himself – extend his arm that clasped the handle of the door, outstretch the other arm, teeter at the edge of the last step…and take in the road and the winds, all to himself.

He was used to the typical stares and the perplexed looks on the faces of passengers… like right now. They probably think he’s absurd, weird or plain mad, he thought. He chuckled. As he looked inside the bus, he noticed a girl staring at him. That look in her eyes - he could not define. She did not seem shocked or amazed. And yet, her eyes were fixed on him, anticipating something. Ignoring that, he stretched his hands out and swung outside to catch the breeze.

The sound of a thud was heard. The bus screeched to a halt a few metres ahead.
That was the end of when he’d felt most alive.