The most annoying bit about living at hostel is waking up each day to the hardnosed shrieks of a hysterical alarm clock. Back home, waking up with the lark was trouble enough but at least then I had mum n dad to hug me out of bed and shove my sleepy-eyed being into the shower. Now, I absolutely Hate (with a capital H), the forced interruption of my oh-so-splendid circadian rhythm by the ruthless dictator my alarm clock is. Oh, and with every 3min snooze, you could almost feel it beaming with pleasure, jeering at your reluctance to push your lazy bum outta bed, it taking pride in being the sole cause of your displeasure.
I seriously thank heavens for the advent of cell phones and the resulting obsoleteness of alarm clocks, for at least now I can set the alarm tone of my cell phone to a soft air, that lullabies me back to dream world; rather than wake up to the crass cacophony of the conventional clock !
Through the corner of your eyes, you see him enter the room… You saved him the seat beside you And he knows it... But he Decides against sitting by you And opts cleverly for a seat across the row.
You are in his field of vision, definitely But his inflated ego refuses to acknowledge the fact.. You know exactly what to do.
Your slender hands manicured especially for him Playfully turn the pencil to point towards him.. One quick glance towards him, And there, you catch his eyes, clearly flirtatious, He breaks into that slightly dimpled smile of his, quickly curtained to avoid the professor’s wrath. Your heart skips a beat, and so does his I bet.. His non verbal advances… Your playful responses… The blissful turbulence inside you, you feel When even the most insignificant movements speak oodles… And you leave it to your eyes do the all talking!! (and the teasing of course !)
As a kid, I was extremely fond of visiting the babies in the neonatal ICU (NICU). I wasn't allowed inside obviously, but through the glass in the children ward , i'd stare at the little somethings for hours at end. Every time i stopped to look at them , the nurse on duty would swing a cot beside me. Through the corner of my eye, I'd look at the inhabitant of the cot- a beautiful girl- her complexion as white as milk, and rose lips; her soft brown locks would rest loosely on her pink cheeks- and if ever i looked at her directly-she'd break into this million dollar smile and her green eyes would twinkle bright as she smiled- she was pristine- my fairytale princess..
The shy girl that I was , I never really spoke to her, until Aunty Rahil introduced me to her one day.. "Baby Laila" she said.. "Arabic ? " i asked "Whatever." I stood there puzzled for a while. Aunty explained Laila knows 3 diff languages- Arabic, English , Filipino .. and she even understands Hindi.I stood their awestruck. Over the next few days , i started visiting the children's ward more often-less to see the nicu babies, more to meet my new pal Laila. There wasn't a moment her smile would fade.. I started talking to her, taught her my name. She was probably a year older to me, but she was so small, n delicate, n skinny..laila never stood up. Just out of curiosity i asked laila one day, "Laila, phen anta baba, mama" (Laila, where r ur parents?). For the first time in all those days , her smile was subdued.. n softly she whispered - "Laila don know baba mama" ... through the gap in the cot's railings i gave princess my hand.......
It was only years later I was told Laila lost her parents - her dad,a Saudi national n mum an Egyptian- shortly after she was born,in an accident. Laila survived,but was crippled for life. She was now taken care by the Filipino, Indian and Saudi nurses at the hospital. That was her home, and we were family..
I've lost touch with Laila, and the nurses at hospital.. I wish I knew how Laila is, where she is now...She was the happiest girl I'd ever met despite all that she'd lost.. I really miss seeing her, miss telling her, "I'll be Laila's mama".. we love you Laila, wherever you are. God bless you hunnie..
A pappu in every household… I don’t know about the rest of the world but if you have any Indian links, I’m mighty sure you’ve at the least, 1 pappu at home.. !!!
Pappu bhaiya ?? Pappu mama?? Pappan uncle ?? Pappu, ur best friend’s nickname – he wouldn’t have told you for sure you dumbo!! Pappu- the guy who can’t dance, s**** !! Pappu-the guy who doesn’t vote… Pappu-the guy who washes your car??? Pappu, your new neighbor?? Pappu – the milk man?? Pappu- jo pass ho gaya !!! Pappu –who picks his nose !!!
I wonder what’s with the name??!! I’m definitely going to Google it one of these days!! Google: “origin of pappu”- apart from his parents, silly ! Google: “the pappu revolution” Google: “who names their kids pappu???” ……… I mean people still doooo ??!!!!!!!! Google: “who was the first pappu anyway??????” Google: “why can’t people get over the name pappu??”
And while Google looks for my answers, I assume pappu’s graduated from being just a household name to a synonym for the Indian guy-next- door !!
Ok, Mr.every next blogger- own up- are you a pappu too ???!!!
P.s .. what’s the female version of pappu ??? pappy??? Pappi?? Papp’irl’?? papp’woman’ ???
hi people..i'm isra...20yrs old..a medical student who thinks 2 much n loves readin n writin...i live in a fantasy world of my one..oblivious of the real world...n when i do find myself in the real world-there i go again-thinking..!!! often confused,often lost..thats me!!