Calorie Collar

Do you crave that forbidden second helping of chips? 

Or do you wish that yummy portion of disallowed yet sumptuous and mouthwatering paneer tikka masala did not put you off your calorie chart?

Does the WHO's warning of Heart patients in India rising phenomenally by the year 2020 resound an impending doom?

Are you just super lazy or do you simply H-A-T-E working out unless you have been coaxed, cajoled or threatened?

Now you needn't worry anymore because here is your savior:

The Calorie Collar(C)TM

The only foolproof solution to your healthy eating nightmares. (Atkins, Weight Watchers, will bow in shame.)

What is it?
It is a cylindrical device shaped like a collar containing a microchip device and is wi-fi, GPS and bluetooth enabled. Made of a lightweight metal, corrosive resistant, insulated with nylon plastic which is available in 256 vibrant or camouflaging colors to match your outfit.
Contains an inbuilt body scanner monitoring device, a tiny hard disk and processor.


How to use it?
Men wear it underneath their shirt collar. Women can sport them on their wrists like a bracelet.

OK. How does it work?

• With an inbuilt body scanner it scans the wearer's body composition and instantly updates the vital statistics, blood pressure, body fat, bone weight and other crucial metabolic parameters to its database.
• These parameters will be used to determine what exactly should be the wearer's normal statistics. 
• And keeping these parameters in mind, the Calorie Collar (C) will then monitor what you put in your mouth.
• If you exceed the allowed calorie limit,  Calorie Collar (C) will calculate the excess calories will proceed to regulate them.
• If you are short of the optimum calorie limit, Calorie Collar (C) send signals and reminders to you make up

Eg: If your daily dietary allowance should be 2200 Kcal, and you've exceeded the limits, Calorie Collar has the ability to send signals to remind you to exercise the excess off.

What are these signals?

• First Signal - Mild and gentle audio reminders by Microsoft Mary to visit the treadmill.
• Second Signal - Provocative and stern reminder by Steve Austin's voice to work out immediately.
• Third and final signal - Non-verbal mild yet non-threatening periodic shocks surging through your body and which will guarantee to provoke you to workout or consume the remaining allowed calories.

Consecutively, it moderates and analyzes your progress level or regress level with and sends an weekly report to your physician.

Seems annoying, can't I just manually switch it off or break it?

• Your physician and the people at Calorie Collar (C) can only switch it off till you get to your healthy goal.
• If you try to break it will send off an alarm to your physician to take the next stringent action.
• If you are successful in breaking it you shall be slapped a very very very exorbitant fine. (Trust me, don't mess with Calorie Collar (C))
• Its even water proof, shock proof and GPS enabled. (So forget about drowning it, zapping it or throwing it over a cliff) 

Recommended for:
Those who are lazy and life-threateningly obese with no hope of self-control.


Calorie Collar (C) 2.0
Newer developments by our team at Calorie Collar (C) are striving to work towards an improved version of the device. Features to be included:
Facebook and Twitter updates if you violate the dietary allowance over 5 times in a month.
A Hall of Shame website for defaulters.

So think twice before sneakily popping that second (but actually fourth) helping of hot sugary gulab jamun.

This post has been published by me as a part of the IndiBlogger 'My Demand' Contest; sponsored by HP. To vote for my post and be part of the next edition, visit here.

MindReader Mane Maker

To all men out there,
How many of you are scared to death of losing/ graying of your luscious mane due to aging?
Do you have a problem getting up early in the morning looking into the mirror and cribbing at the sight of that unwanted stub?
Do you think would prefer to get a clean shave/ styling from the barber than by doing it yourself?
Do you wish to get a proper Van Dyke or those excellently crafted sideburns to woo your girl?



To all women out there,

How many times in a year do you have to visit your beautician to wax/ thread your skin and have wallowed in sheer pain?
Do you think that expenses and side effects of Laser hair removal scare you beyond your wits' end?
How many of you ladies think that abandoning creams, waxes and laser treatments would lower your self esteem because of hairgrowth like an Amazon Rainforest?


Fear not. Here is the brand new technology called:  

"MindReader Mane Maker"  (M3 for short)

MindReader Mane Maker??!! What is this thing?
Its a small genetically engineered capsule containing microbots with an antennae signal that "reads your mind" and makes hair follicle grow according to your wish.
Our researchers have modified microbots with signal transduction capability to edit and modify the hair cycle.

What are these Microbots?
Micro organisms which have been "programmed" to act as nanobots.


So how does it work?

• The capsule works on the principle of the consumer's will. 
• It sends a signal to the brain demanding the input for the cut/ style/ trim or epilation.
• The desired signal transmitted by the brain is relayed by the microbots to the hair follicles and will modify it to suit the desired outcome.
• And voila! you have that luscious crop the way you desired it!
  

Do those microbot thingies use batteries or need chargers?
No.


Sounds complex. How to use it? 
Consume it.

What do you mean by consumption? Like an enema?
*Facepalm*
NO. Its NOT a suppository. Swallow it silly!

Can I swallow it with my freshly squeezed orange juice?
Yes. Consume it with pulp, without pulp, concentrate..... You get my point?


How long does the effect last?
Lasts for a day. So have a new haircut and style everyday!


Cool. But who all can use it?
Anyone and Everyone who can swallow.



Coming soon:

MindReader Mane Maker 2.0

Will include:

• tanning protection
• colored hairgels
• tattoo
• piercings

This post has been published by me as a part of the IndiBlogger 'My Demand' Contest; sponsored by HP. To vote for my post and be part of the next edition, visit here.

Perception

I sense my senses

experience the magic;

A twinkle in the warm sunshine

when my fingertips brush the leaf tip

A glisten of the morning dew

when I hear the pitter patter of rain

A flutter in the autumn breeze

when my long hair falls on my face

An aroma of sweet smells

when I caress a rosebud

I shiver in the winter cold

feeling goosebumps on my skin

I pray a solemn prayer in His abode

To those who have the power of sight

May their life be as magical

as I 'see' it without light

(c) Gkam

I am participating in the WeBlog's Sleepy Sunday contest! You may read other participating posts HERE

Vino

I may not be a Sommelier or an Oenologist but I just adore the aromas of Wines.
This photograph was taken by me at a fine dining restaurant in Mumbai, India where for the very first time in my life I saw a plethora of choices for Wine lovers. Be it Bordeaux, Pinot Noir, Chianti, Merlot or even the famous Napa Valley wine of California  - They had it all.

If only I had the bank balance of a Liquor Baron, I'd sit in the very same restaurant with a stem glass full of fine Bordeaux. Ah! the finer tastes of life....

To see the others' Thursday Challenge for Theme Beverage, visit here

Goodbye

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 13; the thirteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

THAT'S IT!!! I'VE HAD IT!
I'm coming clean.....
YES! I'm having an affair. So listen up.....

I cannot stay away from you. I really really need you now more than ever. You see, its the bond that we have for more than 20 years. How can you forget that? Okay, so it was me who moved away from you since I had to start a new phase in my life but then again its your fault that you entice me into your captivity all the time. I cannot help myself.

Be it the drive at Worli Sea Link, the catamaran ride near The Gateway of India, the evening frenzy at Juhu beach and the Chowpatty mania, the lush green view at Chhota Kashmir or the escapade at Essel World, I can always seem to recall all those beautiful moments with you. I still vividly reminisce the deliciously tempting Sardar Pav Bhaji, crisp goldenVada Pav, tasty Zunkha Bhakar, tangy Paanipuri, yummy Bhelpuri, or Bandra's Jays Sandwich that I so relished. The countless cutting chais, juice at Haji Ali Juice centre, Keema Pav at Stadium's, Martin's Goan fish curry or steaming Momos- I cannot tell which was most appetizing.


Damn! Why does being away from you drag me back in a BEST bus or Local Train ride to the nearest station. So what if you've changed your name?... I still see people calling with both your old and new names. Who can forget the time you suffered on 1993 blasts, the twin train blasts, 26/11 attack and 26/7 floods? I cannot. You were hurt and so was I. But, you came back strong alive and still kicking. All thanks to prayers sought at Siddhivinayak, Mahalakshmi, Haji Ali, Parsi Agiary and Mount Mary Church.

Year after year we rejoiced and celebrated Ganesh Chaturthi, colorful Holi, holy Durga Puja,  joyous Mount Mary Bandra Fair, Koli Mahotsav, Nag Panchami, Gudi Padva, Id, Pateti, Onam and the splendour of Kala Ghoda Art Festival.
That doesn't mean that I adore the frequent water-cuts, roads in potholes, hawkers on foothpaths and flyovers that you have created. I still haven't come in terms to them.

Yet it is because of you that the Tatas, the Ambanis, the Jindals, the Mangeshkars are grateful and many those who aspire to become like them some day, come to you.
Be it Marine Drive, Film City or the Bandstand you have avid followers. The Khans, the Bachchans or the rest of the Bollywood are forever indebted to you and are nothing but mush without your spotlight.

I know it is not fair to love you too much. Like a million other people you have stolen my heart too.
But I'm adamant, my love affair with you will continue.
Be it Boston or Bostwana, Melbourne or Madras, Chennai or Chinchpokli....

I still love you MUMBAI. Always have and always will..... :)
I can NEVER say Goodbye.

Dear Navi Mumbai,
I love your pristine clean right-angled roads, adore your hawker free footpaths and cleaner and greener gardens.  Hey I'm sorry that I'm cheating on you. It might take me more than 20 years to love you like I love Mumbai ;)

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

This post has also been published by me as a part of the Writer's Island prompt on Spellboud. Check here to participate

3WW #1

"OUCH! Please be gentle John!" Janet creased her forehead in wariness of the pain that she anticipated.
"Oh, c'mon don't be such a baby! It's nothing but a scratch." John said to her condescendingly while examining the wound.
It had been no more than a few weeks since the brother sister duo had moved in with their family into the neighbourhood.
"Really? You try falling from a bike on a rough sidewalk whilst wearing a frock." Janet harrumphed in defense.
"Praise the Lord! You are safe and sound!" John said sarcastically and rolled his eyes.
"Hmph!"
"Listen Janet, We need to get back to the house now, I-"
"I won't be able to walk three blocks, dummy! I have gotten hurt real bad!" she said as if she was stating the obvious.
"Oh! alright, fine. I'll be back in five to get some more ointment. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Yes, yes go quick! I have to go to Macy's house later."
John left towards his house, a few blocks away from the spot where Janet had had her fall. As much as he disliked his sister for the unnecessary tantrums she often threw, he still loved her very much and instinctively he fought the wariness that had crept in his mind for a fraction of a second that leaving his sister alone there, even for five minutes, was perhaps not a good idea.
Little did John know what vulgar ideas were germinating from the deep set eyes hiding behind the brick wall around the curb, a few yards away from his darling step-sister.


This post is in dedication to the grieving families of the Nehru Nagar Kurla child rape murders. Let justice be done, though the heavens may fall.


P.S. This is my 51st post! :)

Wish

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 12; the twelfth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

“Send this to 50 other people or….”
Jim knew what the “repercussions” were of not forwarding chain e-mails and so mechanically he clicked the forward button and sent it to his only pal in the office – ‘Princess Forward’ Fiona. She was the go-to girl if you wanted any forward e-mails. She could bombard your inbox with forwards like pick-a-color-and-find-your-soul mate e-mails, e-mails with Goddesses and Deities and even more. She even badgered people to post their wish-lists to a birthday website so much that Jim had to eventually give in.

Cheery and vivacious as a cheerleader Jim wondered often why she was so ‘wishful’ all the time. That very aspect of her irritated him but he did not approach her and complain. He never approached her. He did not appreciate too much wishful thinking. Infact he disliked the very thought of it.  Like clockwork Fiona peeped over her cubicle and gave Jim that pleasing smile as if it was the only thing she was waiting for all day.  

‘At least it works for someone’ wondered Jim. So, forwarded e-mails and a warm smile were only exchanged between them on a daily basis. Somehow, Jim wished it was more....But he wouldn't.
Sub-consciously Jim felt that smile of hers was different today, or was he imagining it?….he put his thoughts to rest. Fiona is as happy as sunshine, always. The chain e-mail then found its righteous place in the folder labeled ‘Junk’.
Yet, somehow he did not have the heart to delete it. He never knew why.

Day was as boring as a snore Jim felt if the clock was punishing him by ticking ever so slowly. He needed to get out of this miserable office. He pondered countless times on why he should quit this job that was squeezing the happiness out of his life. However, he was often shocked back into reality by the burden of the mortgage of the house he was planning to buy, the impending education loan he had to pay for and most importantly saving up for retirement. This job’s salary was the reason, the ONLY reason he was working there. He couldn't care less otherwise.
Fiona’s charming smile was only enough to ignite some passion to read a drone of a expense report but perhaps not for the other problems in his life. Poring over the expense sheets and graphs he thought why he was so very miserable a week before Christmas. ‘Tis the season to be jolly?…Bah! Humbug!

Why couldn’t he be happy as a daisy? Others hid their misery so well. He often wondered. He wished so much to be like Fiona. Cheery and upbeat regardless. He sighed.

Rumble rumble.
It was his stomach grumbling.
Involuntarily Jim got up and slouched like a zombie to the kitchen and poured him some decaf. He let out yet another sigh. Tapping the mug he leaned with his back towards the kitchen counter mulling over life and its insane possibilities. He was tired, very tired. He yawned and chugged down the decaf in a swish and headed back towards his desk. Having his boss catch him asleep was the last thing he needed today. Slouching back unwillingly into his chair, he fought slumber as he stared into the excel sheet.

It read: ‘The Sales office expense report dated January ………….’

And no sooner a moment had passed, Jim shook himself up with a start; quickly looked around afraid whether or not the boss had heard him snore or had used his desk as a pillow- he didn’t even know how long he was out.

‘Guess nobody saw me’ Jim thought.

His stomach now rumbled louder to a growl. He was very hungry. Looking at his watch he remembered that he missed his breakfast today again in order to catch the subway train. He got up and went to the kitchen again and rummaged through the fridge for a fruit or condiments for a sandwich or a piece of celery at the least.
Strangely, he found a wishbone. Right in the central compartment of the fridge, nothing but a wishbone!

‘And its not even Thanksgiving!’
He thought. He mulled for a while, and putting his aversions of luck and wishfulness to rest he gave it a firm snap. It broke into two. It’s believed that if one has the larger portion of the wishbone his or her wish would come true.

‘As if my day would get any better with a wishbone’

He catapulted the pieces into the trashcan. Turning around he waited for a familiar sound but instead came a metallic crackle. Was his hearing affected? Middle age was perhaps getting to him, he thought. Surprised, Jim turned back and looked over to the trash can. The bone had hit a metal lamp of some sort. Shiny gold and with intricate designs on its surface Jim examined the lamp against the kitchen light aghast thinking what in the world was a lamp doing in a office trash can?
Examining the lamp carefully, he found an inscription on the bottom of the lamp:

‘Make a Wish’
Was written in gold.

Chuckling silently, he headed back to his desk and sitting down he decided to give it a shot.
‘Perfect! Now I await a genie. Hmm.. 7 wishes was it?’
Perfectly aware that it wasn’t any good he chuckled some more and rubbed the lamp uninterestedly once.

Nothing happened.

He rubbed it twice.

Still nothing.

Yawning, he placed it onto his desk and yawned some more.

*Beep*

An e-mail flashed into his inbox.
‘Must be from Human Resources’, he thought
Nonchalantly he clicked open his inbox and it read-

Sender: Genie@goldenlamp.com
To: Jim
Subject: Re: 3 wishes
Message:
Your wish is my command master!

Aghast Jim sat up in his seat. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he was awake.
‘What’s this?! Oh wait, relax, must be a joke or something…’
Convinced it was an office joke doing the rounds, he examined the email and tried to trace back the address but to his surprise it showed it didn’t exist!

‘How is that possible?’
His heart was beating fast. In complete disbelief and he assumed he was imagining things he rummaged his desk for his spectacles and he something unusual caught his eye.

‘What the-‘

A bouquet of clover leaves held by a smiling leprechaun was placed right on his desk.
He was taken aback as to how he didn’t notice it all morning! Something didn't seem right. His heart now raced.

But what got Jim gasping was a smiling elderly lady dressed as fairy godmother tapping on his shoulder.

‘OH MY GOD!’ He yelped out and in a flash he was out of his chair, outside his office floor and into the empty elevator and frantically pressing the Basement button.

‘What the hell is happening to me!
Oh my god I’m hallucinating!
I gotta go to the hospital. What’s happening to me??!!’ he gasped aloud in the elevator.

No sooner did the elevator ding open into the basement there was a flash of light and cries of:
.
.

.
.

‘SURPRISE !!!’


'Happy Birthday'

Yelled everyone in the basement in chorus.
There was Fiona carrying a large cake and all the rest of the office mates including the fairy godmother (who turned out to be the cleaning lady) all in confetti and balloons happily smiling towards Jim. Fiona giggled as she saw Jim’s panicky yet confused expression. He looked dazed and confused as everyone pulled him out of the elevator and into a colorfully decorated basement- it never looked the same dingy basement like before- and were exchanging hugs and laughs all around. Every one named Fiona as the mastermind behind the birthday prank.


'How could I forget my own birthday!' Jim smacked himself in the head and chuckled in disbelief that he fell right into their trap. Correction: Fiona’s carefully crafted trap.

He laughed out loud as he learned of the details of her plan to freak Jim out right before him rushing to his car. He now realized, she knew him so well. At that very moment ignoring the crowd of people around him, Jim noticed her again and noticed her noticing him- her smile was different, more mischievous, more loving-and he smiled back, in kind acknowledgment.

After the party came to an end and everyone had left for the day, Jim asked Fiona as he escorted her to her car.

‘So…. You did all this for me? But why ?’

‘You know Jim; you should start believing things more. Perhaps it would come true’ she said and smiled kindly.

‘Huh?‘ That wasn’t a straight reply. ‘But-‘

Before Jim could probe more, Fiona gave him a quick but tight hug and rushed to her car.

Jim looked dazed and confused as before.

With a smiling goodbye wave she left in her car and Jim waved back, still stunned.

He then noticed something sticking in his shirt pocket-

A note, it read:

"
My dear Jim,


Have faith in your dreams and someday
Your rainbow will come smiling through
No matter how your heart is grieving
If you keep on believing
the dream that you wish will come true


Loads of Love,
Fiona
'"

At that very moment, Jim smiled widely as he now knew his coming days would never be the same again.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Mumbai Blog-a-toners meet

What do you get when you have 8 complete strangers meeting up having never talked, chatted or seen each other before over a hot tea in humid Mumbai? An awesome time!
4th of July Sunday was the usual lazy Sunday for me. The weather was just right, not too humid not too hot. Initially not to keen to leave the comforts of my abode, I slouched unwillingly out of my couch and left for Prithvi Theatre, Juhu. I've never been to Prithvi Theatre, so it got me wondering 'Are we gonna watch a play?'

Being a Sunday and horrible time for those who wanna travel from Navi Mumbai via the Harbour Line, all thanks to the Mega Block, it wasn't different this time either. So I had to resort to travel via buses. Luck had it in for me as I clamoured into a jam-packed bus and then waited for almost an hour for another bus to reach Juhu, my destination, a good hour later that the 4 pm time.

Unknown territory and with unknown company has its unprecedented-ness and excitement. On the contrary I was greeted as if they'd known me for years. It was a warm tete-a-tete after the typical introductory session round the quaint table at Prithvi Cafe. The Blog Marshall was remembered with PC declaring the agenda. Maverick was surprisingly dressed in formals while Dishit was the smarter one who brought his trusted digicam, one thing which I forgot. Anu, eldest of us all was the most jovial and as was PC plus her blackberry :P Our banter ranged from what got us motivated to write our blogs to traveling to the Prithvi warning bells to Parth's Irish Coffee! None of us can ever forget Parth's visibly livid expression of 'What Bachcha!' :P

 BAT-Mumbai

And our rendezvous came to a rather cheeky end when we asked one rather famous theatre personality to click our group snap. Neither of us know who exactly he is yet! :P

And so as I reached home, I recalled the surreal experience that I had never met strangers today because we were bonded to each other through a medium of words and a platform called BAT. Guys, it was completely worth the tedious travel and would love to meet you all over again.
Happy Anniversary BAT!

Hidden

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 11; the eleventh edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Mrs Sharma and her brigade was at the door. As usual.
“He’s so naughty Neeta. Not that I am complaining” she said as matter-of-factly while biting into the sandwich; “He needs to be- you know- taught to behave” She flashed her fake smile at me.

“Look at my children – Simple and Dimpy- So well behaved. No?”
I flashed my fake smile at her. The other day I had seen them sneaking out Mrs. Sharma’s make up and forcefully applying it on their maid’s face. It reminded me of the movie Chalbaaz. Yes the Sridevi one.

Draining her tea, Mr. Varma adjusted herself on our couch and asked “So, your Mister…. Is he not at home?” She asked speculatively. “Today is Sunday- No work No?”

“Well- er- he’s out of town on government work” I gave my well rehearsed reply. “You know the summers are about to start. He’s been asked to help with the Government Project”

“Of course of course. I understand.” She cleared her throat and made a face. She sure masked any signs of "understanding".
“ I just asked because the last time I saw him…” she pretended to mentally calculate and said “… was ten months ago” “Right after you moved in here”

Some of the ladies took a mini gasp at my statement minus the background score of a televised soap. In a town like ours, for a husband to be away from his family was the second most gossiped topic at the kitty party circles, building corridors and playground parks for unemployed wives of rich businessmen.

I sighed. “Yes, but his work is important. You know how government projects are. Er- please have more cake. I baked it” saying that I glanced at my plate to see the leftovers of my son’s birthday cake. I quickly excused myself to refill more potato chips and rushed to the kitchen.

I could still hear the chatter of the ladies and munching of crisps as I absentmindedly filled the bowl with more chips. A sideways glance and I saw my son all tired and angelically curled up in his bed still having his brand new sneakers on him clutching his brand new Iron Man figurine.

Banter in the family room ceased after the neighbours had left. I started to clean up and then-
“You sure know how to make an entry” I said.

“Well. Its my son’s birthday. I wouldn’t miss it for all the stars in the galaxy.” He said while climbing through the window.

“Well then you should have been there to help me field the questions. You heard them-“ And unconsciously I had started to well up. He noticed this and in a flash he was right beside me.

“I know my dear. I cannot apologise enough. It is- difficult – for me. You do understand don’t you? See, I have got something for you”

I turned to him and a shining stone gleamed out of his hand. It shone with such a gleam that I could not be angry at him for long. It was beautiful. Just like him.

I sniffed. “Ah! All the sacrifices I need to make while being married to a super human” I mocked lovingly at him.

He chuckled. “Being hidden from the eyes of world is easy. But being hidden from you….I cannot even think of it”

While his cape billowed in the cool night breeze, I forgot all my worries and the surrealism of it in his sweet embrace.

~~~

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Renovation Frustration

Here Ye Here Ye!

And I am back to blogging… once more.

Sabbatical. On a break. What-cha-might-call-it. And its good to be back. And will stay that way.

Although I passed out of college in July last year still the euphoria of friends around me all the time was strong. Reminiscing all the good times, scandals and the likes. Some left for gora desh and other gora desh-es.

Some even left for further prospects in apna desh.And I was still pondering at the crossroads.

Sitting at home and wondering whether I’d be fitting as a researcher or as a manager was indeed torture topped with dollops of renovation work driving me to my wits’ end aaand a persistent brother persisting me to coax my Pop to buy “us” a 2 wheeler.
That wasn’t it, since now I was home ALL the time the chores’ burden rest on my shoulders. It was as if I did not move a finger at all! Not fair, I did move to Cuba and Bangkok for indefinitely when I had to complete a job for my Mafia on Facebook :P

Thinking about those choices (Management vs. Research) and in the situation (or dump called my home) I can’t say that I didn’t explore those choices.

See, I had to search for a house to live in temporarily while my home was getting renovated not forgetting rummaging through the designs of bathroom tiles, hunt for a contemporary kitchen designer, and also learn enlightening things like what happens when wall tiles and floor tiles are switched or to know how a perfectly good kitchen bowl can be turned into a cocktail of cement puke.

That was the research part.

Management part was inbuilt:
Operations Management was the result of the workers’ research. Cutting granite into 3 inch long strips first and then joining them together into a single whole was their idea, and at the receiving end of my dad's wrath.
It was also managing the space at home i.e. Human Resource(s) management. Since my research to find a spare apartment was hopeless, my bedroom turned into a kitchen; bathroom was the dressing room and living room was out of the house. I cursed myself for having so much furniture lying around that banging my toe each time I entered any room was so routine I did it once to see if I was still conscious.
Noise was nothing. Meaning it was so goddamn much you could hear nothing but it!

I mean it was the constant drilling, cutting, hammering, breaking, welding which felt like listening to a badly recorded death metal CD. Two days of hammering later our maid was absconding and was heard to have been advised by her doctor to go to her native to treat her ears.

There was so much cement and rock bits lying around the house that I wouldn’t be surprised to have inhaled from the air or ingested some with my food like a garnish.
I think while asleep at night and dreaming; I must have dreamt to have woken up just out of the blue laughing out loud and then coughing out a cement block- which later I would have used to upgrade my chop shop in Mafia Wars. :D

Some neighbours were empathetic and some lauded our effort to stay alive in the mayhem of muddle and misery. I used to beam and receive the compliments gracefully.

Little did they know how desperate I was to just stay out of my own home. Thanks to my really good friends I was kept virtually sane by hanging out with them from time to time; out of my house obviously; else I would have shrieked with agony and crouched into a fetal position with the remotest prospect of having to hear another hammering sound.

Food was next on the management agenda. Call it (Not-visiting-the-)Hospital and Healthcare Management.
Since the kitchen was officially in the bedroom, the idea of sleeping next to the cylinder is like sleeping with a ticking time bomb.
Thus we had to order food in, so much so that the regular joint anna had my address by heart and sometimes my order too. It goes like this:

Me: Hello, VinVin Hotel??

Anna: Haan, bolo..

Me: Address likho. V for- (interrupts)

Anna: Haan. Veee for victory, Duss-a number-a?

Me: Haan haan barabar. Order hai- (interrupts again)

Anna: Duss-a Chap-pati, Ekk-a Bhindi Masala aur-a… aur-a… Ekk-a Daal Fraay??

Me:  (Surprised) Haan bhej dena.. (Slams the phone)

Then I get a call. It was anna.

Me: Hello?

Anna: Haan. Madam-a aaj-a Rs. 500 ka change-a nahi chaiye?

Me: :O

A week later Anna calls me and tells me that his chapatti-wala has gone to his native and he insists that I switch to roti now.

Our daily dependence on Anna’s vegetarian fare was so much that I guess he must have recovered the costs of his daughter’s wedding.

Finally the renovation work got completed, and so did my “pondering”, a good 3 months 20 days later. The work done was great. Beautiful marble and granite flooring, larger windows, wider space, brighter walls. I didn't feel like I lived in an Adam's Family-ish home.

I was happy. My hope was beautiful, livable. It somehow paid out handsomely for bearing the so called torture and misery. Cloud called renovation had a silver lining afterall. 

I was happy. So happy that I screamt my lungs out in joy and punched the air in the jubilation of not having to see another stranger lying around my house.

It was then that dad broke the news.

Dad: I think the bathroom needs to be redone….

Me: (Swoon) (Thud)

Will power- (Blog-a-ton 6)

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 6; the sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Tick tock

Never before had time flown by so quickly.

Red oozed.

Staring at the paper, Lee closed his eyes and strained.

Everything went before in flashes.

Tick tock.

Eyes opened to stare at the paper.

He wrote: 'I, Lee, being of sound mind and…'

Door creaked. Gunshot.

Finally it read: '…NIL to my son.'
_______________

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Edit1: My Dear readers, thank you for your comments and valuable feedback. They keep me motivated to write more and better. The essence of 55 fiction, I believe, is to keep the reader guessing till the end. I am a novice at this genre of writing, and on an impromptu decision I composed this post. Looking at the feedback, I shall put up my original thought process behind the post on 11th Jan 2010. All the best to all the participants! Thanks and keep reading!

Edit 2: As promised, here is my original POV:
Lee is an aging old man and has a son. The color pink represents his rosy picture that he had in his mind about his son. But, as time progresses and his son grows up, his rosy picture turns to a blood red color because of his son's greed. In the end, Lee's son kills his father, but to former's dismay; leaves him nothing (NIL) in his will.