Pune and my Phone

We arrived in Pune 5 days ago and since then I've gone on to get mindnumbingly bored and seriously frustrated with the lack of something meaningful and remotely stimulating to do.

Those who know me beyond this blog will know why the fellow and I aren't exploring a new city and new places to eat. Suffice to say, I'm fed up enough to want to even start exercising, just so I have something to do other than sleep, eat and watch tv. And while this supremely decadent life may seem idyllic to some, beware, it has the capacity to eat through your grey cells and leave you with mush for your brain amongst other things.

Adding to the mushy brain are withdrawal symptoms - no broadband internet yet. And while the phone has allowed the Twitter addiction to continue, its just not the same thing.

Thus, this. Blogger app for android. My experiment with blogging from my phone, an attempt to elevate the vegetable like state of my mind to that of at least a fruit.

The Photo

Sipping on her drink, she observed the scene around with interest - especially the mop of hair in the red tee shirt. Even in that crowd, he stood out. Maybe it was the way he sat, feet propped up in the chair in front of him, or maybe it was the fact that he seemed to be the only one not trying hard to impress the girl he was with. Then again, maybe it was his hands, the only bit of him in motion, drumming restlessly on the table in front of him.

And even as she thought it, he leaned forward to pick his phone up. Elbows resting on the table, his hands cradled the phone, surprisingly graceful. And just like that, the restlessness seemed to evaporate. His fingers, as if used to the motion, expressed a purpose, quietly confident. And then he smiled

She quietly reached for her camera. After all, she did have a thing for hands.

Of Being 16

As I checked boxes and bags to see what needed to be packed and what had to be discarded, I came across random stuff I hadn’t seen in years, including my only attempt at keeping a diary – a notebook I’d covered with pink and green ribbon and marked *Private. Do not open*.

Written when I was 16, reading the 50 odd pages that I’d managed to fill was, well, interesting to say the least. And when I say interesting, I mean a combination of embarrassment, oh-yeah-that-happened-moments and a lot of cringing. Ok. It was a little funny also. But mostly because I sounded like people had butterflies for souls and daisies for dreams (and by people I mean the boys I was writing about. What? I was 16).

But life was so simple. Or so it seems now. All I had to worry about was Boy 1 not calling me or Boy 2 sending me an email when least expected. There was also Boy 3, but except for his name that features a couple of times in the diary, I have no memory of who he was. And then there snippets about the first exams I had in college, the disturbed mental condition of the new friend I’d made, the deal my mum was cutting with me (lose 10kgs for ICQ. Yes. ICQ. It was that long ago), school reunions and meeting old friends (and commenting on how much some people had changed, mostly boys and the level of obnoxiousness), cousins getting engaged to the wrong people, and family vacations.

So for a quarter of an hour today morning, I was back to being an innocent teenager, discovering new experiences, people and feelings for the first time. And while I quite enjoyed reliving some of what I’d recorded more than a decade earlier, I’m *so* glad I’m not 16 anymore. Imagine having to lose those 10 kgs all over again!