tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56083715019817533222012-01-29T06:39:31.779+08:00Feeling, Thinking and Then Some More.Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.comBlogger1661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-10331200382432500552012-01-06T18:17:00.000+08:002012-01-06T21:19:49.969+08:00

(aka Confessions of a Girl Finding a Boy in The Era of the Google) The second after I saw your name, I was on the University intranet furiously trying to track down your photo. The very second after. I kid you not. Your surname intrigued. I haven't heard a classier end to a name than mine, and yours just echoed that belief. Oh you dark fellow with that impish smile and sparkling eyes - you are

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-80940751791865538322011-11-23T10:36:00.001+08:002011-11-23T16:01:49.241+08:00

To thank, to trust and to truthfully wish for this every single time.. Sathya, it's your special day! Celebrating the birthday of my conglomerate of everything that I can and can't imagine, according to the solar calendars that humans follow... For immortality, after all, is a different game. A promise anew, to live you again. Happy happy happy birthday!

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-4309222281758051612011-10-24T18:29:00.000+08:002011-11-27T08:48:29.070+08:00

Final Installment; continued from Part I, Part II and Part III. Alternatively, you can click here or search for "The Leaps Suitors Take" in the tag cloud on the left bar or in the search bar above to get all the parts. The next morning Grace made her repeat every detail a million times and Vel kept coming over with a large grin to give her a handshake and be off again. Her friends were

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-7235442515164785592011-10-22T15:45:00.000+08:002012-01-02T14:45:10.502+08:00

Continued from Part I and Part II and continued in Part IV. Alternatively, you can click here or search for "The Leaps Suitors Take" in the tag cloud on the left bar or in the search bar above to get all the parts. On hearing this incident, Grace had all but decided the names of Suitor 3’s and Sunflower’s children but Vel still remained stubborn. “You don’t get Suitor 2’s potential the way

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-76424137469251075872011-10-21T16:19:00.000+08:002011-11-27T08:35:57.216+08:00

(Continued from Part I) Then one afternoon, she saw them walking out of the lobby together. Rather, Suitor 3 strode out and Sunflower, taking two steps to match his one, kept pace. They were flushed; their faces grim and Radhika knew at one look that they were taking a break from an argument. Sunflower specially, was looking resolutely ahead as if biting her tongue to prevent a scathing

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-55686261701090977792011-10-20T15:05:00.000+08:002011-11-05T11:09:41.804+08:00

Every morning from 8:45 to 9:45 AM, every afternoon from 12:00 to 1:30 PM and every evening from 5:30 to 6:30 PM, Radhika Seyharraju stood in the reception lobby of Oriental Heights Business Park, Tower One. She was always attired in her stiff black OHBP uniform, welcoming all the corporates who hurried past her on their way to and from work. The OHBP brochure required that she habitually

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-20343460340652644142011-09-24T17:34:00.001+08:002011-09-25T10:41:24.338+08:00

Her mother wanted to know what she had for lunch. She read the question and began typing out her response on Skype. Mothers somehow, always had to make sure they were on top of your meal menus. Even if they were 3500 miles away. She paused in her description of her tortillas and beans to look up. He was sitting opposite her. She caught him bending down, earphones plugged in; he rested his

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-30368443995673547992011-09-19T12:04:00.000+08:002011-09-19T17:50:48.737+08:00

Heavy advertisements of permanent solutions - be it fairness creams, industrial paints or even fat reduction pills - that hound National Television in India (and the world over) remind me of a story I heard often as a child. Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there lived a potter named, (in McGonagall's voice) Mr. Potter. He ran a profitable business selling, as you guessed it, pots.

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-746772508671796792011-09-16T16:41:00.001+08:002011-09-17T00:55:34.517+08:00

Written many many months back, on a Friday. Lest it sounds unimaginative, the post's title also finds inspiration in Ms. Black's prophetic words.  TGIF. The past week brought with it both good and bad. A mixed bag, as weeks generally go. Yet as I finally sat on the metal ledge waiting for my bus to ferry me to hostel, I felt very tired. And then I missed the bus three million and forty two

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-4988661699119032772011-08-25T22:45:00.000+08:002012-01-06T18:57:20.060+08:00

Everyone's talking about the JLB. Given below is my attempt to demystify what JLB aims to set right. A simplification of ALL the complexities. Yep, Economics+Supply+Demand can explain ANY thing.  B-) The red colour depicts the current level (quantity) of demand (A) in our country for government services, susceptible to corruption such as driving licenses, cooking gas

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-22649786568210005622011-08-12T02:58:00.045+08:002012-01-06T18:49:08.048+08:00

It’s been a long hiatus – yes! I didn’t realize how long till a friend, in the midst of our conversation discussing his internship suddenly went, “Btw, there's this blog which I used to read but then the author got abducted by aliens: http://vaishnavinair.blogspot.com/.”  Having thus driven home the point so effectively, here goes the first post on my new beginnings stands dedicated

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-10251332811448659042011-07-10T21:42:00.075+08:002012-01-06T19:00:50.496+08:00

(A journal entry from the Friday before last - it's random, it's personal, but it's a thought. So it shows up here.) When I hear a guy nodding his head eagerly to agree, "I hate unhappy movie endings too!", I reflexively shrivel up inside. Which is strange, because people, supposedly bond more discussing mutual dislikes than likes. And I'm an unapologetic sucker for happy endings. I want them

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-41429135270404083722011-06-25T00:21:00.007+08:002011-06-26T16:35:08.007+08:00

The three boys sat in the very messy living room amidst a clutter of socks, overflowing ash trays, empty beer bottles and many textbooks strewn around. A guitar collected dust in the corner. It belonged to the fourth in their gang. “She said she liked and respected me.” The thinnest one began abruptly. He was the quietest of them all. Bespectacled, observant and dependable. He looked extremely

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-44607171806546612722011-04-25T01:22:00.002+08:002011-04-25T13:48:17.692+08:00

He is just like the rest of us. He walks and talks and sings and eats and laughs and runs and writes and ... He is just like the rest of us. He smiles. Enigmatically. You know when He looks at you that He is looking at what you were, who you are. and what you will be. His eyebrows raise. You know He's recognized you. Its the first time you're meeting Him. But He knows you. And as you smile back

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-20337772662693639842011-02-28T02:54:00.004+08:002011-03-02T15:49:27.833+08:00

I'm madly in love with this, ahem obviously, boy. For convenience sake, lets call him Pinkshirt - a name that a dear friend christened him in response to my, "S______ ! Baby pink t-shirt. Looking unforgivably cute. Should.I.just.die.now?" Of course, I didn't die and the object in question looked like a reasonably ordinary lanky fellow, who would be startled if ever charged with my mortal demise.

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-84688050712228427912011-02-26T04:11:00.002+08:002011-02-26T04:32:37.426+08:00

I'm in the mood for being philosophical (how astonishing). So presented here are some (completely) random lessons and pointers I have discovered over the course of leading a sensibly foolish life. 1) If you're a girl, never ever let a boy carry your bag/book/groceries for you unless you can be certain he will be around to do that forever. You see, the day he refuses, a part of you disappears. 2

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-44751087589840728082011-02-14T15:37:00.098+08:002011-02-20T02:02:28.370+08:00

As another Valentine's Day fills our surroundings with roses and hearts, and my Professors deem that midterms grant me company too, I pause amidst Public Sector Economics and grin. Life's been great so far. The semester started shaky, but every week brought with it, many "Oh-my-I-was-such-an-idiot" and "Thank-God!" moments. I'm beginning to see how people, experiences, intuitions and miracles

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-42598736676202240332011-02-07T13:46:00.001+08:002011-02-07T13:52:12.489+08:00

All of us have our personal Gods: folks with whom we talk each day to sort our head out. Especially on days when nothing goes to plan, Rama, Jesus, Allah, Buddha etc become very real people on whose head we tend to pile the sum total of the many reasons why we didn't do enough research for that project and why it is particularly His responsibility to take charge and tend the episode to 

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-59903669946779169752011-02-05T11:23:00.001+08:002011-02-05T11:26:45.902+08:00

You can only live so cautiously. There is only so much you can do to keep yourself shielded from ogres and regrets. Because they will find you somehow. And the more cautious you've been, the more hounded you will be when they creep from behind and tantalize. You need to evict them from your life of course, to continue living sanely, happily. But for that, you need to look at them straight in the

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-76994963580328686212011-01-28T20:01:00.002+08:002011-01-30T16:31:36.992+08:00

Conversations are critical to a friendship. You just cannot be friends with someone you cannot talk with. You can't be labouring to complete awkward silences, racking your brain to find mutual topics of interest. The most helpful topic is naturally, the weather. Sometimes as the rain or shine is cursed, I think about how half the conversations around won't have material to sustain otherwise. Of

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-36320530509678001802011-01-28T09:31:00.006+08:002011-02-04T12:04:13.485+08:00

Given a chance, we might make our past differently. 'Tis not that we have many regrets. The skeletons in our closet might well be erased if we could go back and stop at the signal where the lost lady was asking for directions while we stepped past her in a hurry to get to the opposite side, if we could prevent the scathing retort that flew from our tongues when mother posed uncomfortable

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-47218924782196345882011-01-22T21:45:00.000+08:002011-01-22T21:45:45.261+08:00

It was just my problem. Just my very own personal problem that I should have jealously guarded from the beginning and dealt with in the inimitable way one deals with one's own. It was only my problem, right from the start. One that couldn't be solved by writing in third person, discussing a million times with people who love me a million times more, thinking a few more times and then

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-25812315369693897932011-01-21T17:12:00.004+08:002011-01-22T20:28:35.620+08:00

She had flung herself at him. Unconscious of the people around, the place they were in, the many unresolved questions hanging in mid air between them... At that moment, all those factors assumed lesser priority. They were meeting after two whole months and she of course, flung herself at him, ignoring the awkward hand he stretched out for a shake. "It has been so long!" She cried into his

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-66432636347118396362011-01-20T12:50:00.003+08:002011-01-20T12:55:04.252+08:00

One of Time’s greatest abilities is that it heals.  It has the magic that will one day help you forget how there was a time when you had no idea. No idea about what you want to write. Every word that swum in your brain somehow related back to him and you had no idea how they could be threaded together to make coherence for readers. How can they portray profoundness? How can they showcase hope?

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-16473428329316903252011-01-17T10:44:00.017+08:002011-02-20T01:46:37.172+08:00

(Seven months ago, library) "But why not today? I borrowed these books banking on you to carry! You did so even yesterday! Why'd you do it then?" She glared at the lanky boy leaving their table.  "You know Pink Floyd makes too much sense at times?" He quizzed looking around, at no one in particular.  Sitting beside her, their friend Amando grinned. "Whaddya mean?" "Their album 'A momentary lapse

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-51041313838676638482010-12-30T17:34:00.006+08:002011-01-01T11:02:13.659+08:00

Dear Nineteen Year Old, Excited, aren't you? Nineteen is having a great start with those hundreds of Facebook birthday wishes demanding your immediate attention? Um yes, liking those wall posts and writing a personalized thank you on each wisher's wall is a, ahem, laudable enterprise. Your bright eyes speak volumes on how much you enjoy it so I shall refrain from comment. And hey, I still enjoy

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-8940348438215902972010-12-26T13:53:00.004+08:002010-12-26T14:01:17.279+08:00

(And Christmas! Isn't it awesome that the Son of God is a classy 2042 years old now? Whoa.) Today I am posting here a wonderful poem published many years ago in Sathya Sai Baba’s Sanathana Sarathi magazine.* I have loved it since a child, but with every passing year, the comfort and gratitude derived from it have only increased incommensurably. On this Boxing Day, may these words pounce on you

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-33114577799386106022010-12-11T17:26:00.004+08:002010-12-26T13:25:41.386+08:00

A few days back, Angels and Demons was telecast on HBO. I wanted to see the movie, but was almost certain that my six year old cousin's (lets call her Nano, the car’s tiny figure is reminiscent of her’s anyway) - who was drinking in every word intently - parents wouldn’t approve of her watching it. Since I wasn’t sure if the movie portrayed the numerous deaths in the book with graphic detail, I

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-74968393434691201652010-12-06T16:09:00.003+08:002010-12-12T18:07:40.323+08:00

It’s that time of the year again, when flurries of internship and job applications are sent out. Mine are in that batch too and I often open my mailbox with crossed fingers and a prayer. So do my friends; with more crossed fingers than prayers since most find the existence of God questionable. Actually, they, my best – intelligent, humorous, sensible, foolish, lovable – friends, find quite many

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-53875908830623982992010-11-23T11:15:00.009+08:002010-11-23T17:04:56.864+08:00

Oye best friend,Oye perfection,Oye Universe,Oye Sathya,Oye my Swami. Happy Birthday!! For guiding me through darkness, those soulful conversations through silences, the merry laughter through streaming tears, the unexplainable strength through every single moment, through ups and downs and highs and lows for the permanent Everest high you keep me on...My bestest friend, my guide and

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-87852327196568589772010-11-21T12:45:00.005+08:002010-11-21T17:01:39.412+08:00

(Because it is exam time and I don't have time to write. Because two amazing individuals demanded a new post. Because this is the quickest I could come up with. S and D, this is for you.) “Nope. I’m not in love with you.” “Really? I mean, really? Swear to God, you are such a drama queen. Trust you to make this opera.” She hated the sarcasm filling his voice. How could someone be so blind? “You

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-71095464998163816682010-11-21T11:59:00.003+08:002010-11-21T18:44:05.465+08:00

Be gentle, be mild, be sweet and nice But the battles you choose? Fight them. Be wise. Be keen, be right, be strong and real. But the miracles in life? Believe them. Be phenomenal. Be love, be light, be happy and true But the failures in life? Applaud them. Don't eschew. Be yourself. The world goes around as you stand your ground. Be anything. You bring purpose, you change, you adjust. Claim

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-24922001770936506032010-11-09T18:53:00.005+08:002010-11-09T21:12:28.036+08:00

"Tell her. Tell her I am in love with her daughter." A slight pause. "Your mother will be scandalized - Aaaa, this boy?!" "Arey! Aisa nahi.*" I hastened to opine. Then stopped. It was unnecessary. He was making a lame joke. But had I continued? .... She... she would slowly remove her specs from her stubby nose, the nose I have inherited. Her beautiful eyes, filled with concern will peer

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-63677383748435125922010-10-30T16:08:00.002+08:002010-10-30T19:52:01.367+08:00

Every person has a facade. Every person has an aura. And the facade, the charisma, the image you portray to the world, is what you come to be defined by. People fall in love with those facades. With your twinkling eyes as your grave expression pulls another's leg, with those raised eyebrows as you prove what a great listener you are, with just the right things you say to make every conversation

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-16371826030774393232010-10-10T04:34:00.010+08:002010-12-26T22:35:41.041+08:00

(The following is a story. Inspiration is drawn from varied sources but as with stories, the result rarely echoes an iota of truth. My writing is no exception. So dear readers into interpreting lines, reading between them and relating back to my reality, peace.) “I don’t want to preach.” She paused. “And I definitely don’t want to mother you.” “Really?” He raised an amused eyebrow. “That is a

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-12899163070470981862010-09-25T09:39:00.011+08:002010-09-25T10:29:11.850+08:00

I am no longer the girl you met at the library entrance. Standing there as her friends paid no heed to her protests against the choice of dinner place; as one of them indifferently took her laptop and books from her hands, thus forcing her to join you for dinner; as she turned her laughing head to give a smile in acknowledgement of your mutual introductions never expecting to see you again. A

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-90228891506970360362010-09-13T18:38:00.014+08:002010-09-15T14:38:08.966+08:00

In life, people just walk in and walk out. It annoys and amazes me, how they do that. I did not ask that charismatic man to take time from his life to figure out mine.I did not call that helpful girl to listen to my problems with men and matters.I did not wish that understanding boy to become a champion of my cause. I could promise that I did not want my heart cut into a million pieces for each

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-30968577484455759872010-09-13T08:53:00.005+08:002010-09-17T03:07:09.504+08:00

I do realize how much I owe a good post to the readers of this blog. But right now, I'm dropping by to provide an update. I feel ridiculously happy. My previous post would have given an inkling that this semester has been barely going the way I imagined. I'm a great one for imagination. I imagine my day, month, week, future children's heights, the grades on my Masters' degree scroll...

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-40560736585559029452010-08-28T20:25:00.002+08:002010-09-13T08:59:21.358+08:00

Its been a while, I realize! University began a fortnight ago and I'm still grappling with all the commitments and activities, hence the absence. There is a lot which happened and I just wish I had written them all down, then and there so I could provide you with daily amusement. As it stands, memory fails me and thinking about the last two weeks yields just a fantastic, complete blur of too

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-77160717495565468952010-08-12T15:08:00.017+08:002010-08-12T15:22:43.066+08:00

I am like every other normal University student. I have a Facebook (FB) account which I regularly use to keep in touch with 425 friends. Every time FB tweaks it's privacy policy, I'm tempted to raise arms, create hell and threaten to quit the social networking website. Then I think of my classmate in Business, Government and Society, whom I never see around except on the FB homepage or my young

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-41853582476949916422010-08-10T12:53:00.000+08:002010-08-11T19:42:57.697+08:00

(Not that I am qualified to give the latter. But the least I could do is to relay it forward. So here goes.) A friend and I were working on a project together. We were "friends", with a comfort equation, which meant that mincing words and being polite to each other didn't come naturally to us. Getting on the other's nerves, did. As I facebooked on a break from work, a common friend came online

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-42881669533931885202010-08-08T12:04:00.012+08:002010-08-08T14:19:49.279+08:00

(AC. The abbreviation can mean both Air Conditioning and Appu's Chronicles. While the latter provides the fodder for writing, the former is the effect they have on me and on you, hopefully.) The beginning. After all, “that’s a very good place to start”. My grandfather Eashwara Pilla Prabhakaran Nair (generally shortened to E. Prabhakaran Nair or E.P. Nair) was born on 28th January, 1931 in the

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-76832162096638736372010-08-03T16:35:00.001+08:002010-08-03T16:37:49.690+08:00

I happened to talk with a friend after a while today. While we were in touch through messages on Facebook, it was still more personal to chat real time. And it had been a while since we did that. But today as he came online, I was busy. "How do you print photos in black and white?" I asked impatiently. I needed my scanned passport copy printed and the printer had run out of colour ink. He tried

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-63189391194712377322010-08-01T11:49:00.005+08:002010-08-05T16:28:04.564+08:00

Over the years, I’ve had many best friends. Of course, now the post has a permanent occupant in Swami but again he manifests himself in so many living and non-living forms that it’s difficult to pin down permanence anywhere than on his busy haired, five foot, persona. As a child though, I did not know Swami. Instead I assumed that Arya and Rani, two pony tailed girls in my kindergarten class,

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-65345663081506273612010-07-31T17:35:00.002+08:002010-07-31T17:38:47.917+08:00

(or Hamlet Act III, Scene III.  Had previously written another post on relationships. This one below deals with well, projected images. Am posting it in the hope that some other soul might draw pointers from my misadventures. The advice after all, holds water in many cases and not just the one I experienced.)  “See Vaish, there’s no way you can stand him, unless of course you have a supremely

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-46247505585653130782010-07-10T19:53:00.003+08:002010-07-22T06:43:55.574+08:00

One of the friends I made at SMU is completely unlike me. Of course, you never make friends with anyone exactly like you (unless it is yourself) but this boy is totally different. Not different in the, oh I so complement you, sort of way. But in the jagged, haphazardly, distinct manner which makes even our few similarities hard to bond over.No matter. Through arguments and laughter and anger and

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-33323459657603893452010-07-09T23:32:00.000+08:002010-07-11T01:33:24.993+08:00

(Applications to Project M.A.I.A opened a while ago. I was asked few standard questions in the application form. Instead of 'normal' answers, I gave essays in reply. Whats funny is that I meant every word. Every single word. And if the person reading didn't believe that, I come off sounding very clichéd and superficial. I'll let you know the results anyway. )Q. Please elaborate on any relevant

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-58660516509249759182010-07-04T11:03:00.008+08:002010-07-05T03:32:21.891+08:00

Two friends and I were having a discussion about God. One of them claimed he was agnostic. Truth was, he seemed to have something personal against Him. I mean, S completely denied God's existence!I had no argument to offer in return. Mostly because whatever S. said was worded so humorously that I was forced to throw my head back in laughter. And also because God is such a personal experience,

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-28139785321925378682010-07-03T22:30:00.003+08:002010-07-05T03:19:43.919+08:00

"I'm going to have a love marriage." I announced at dinner today.Achan looked up from his plate, eyebrows raised. Amma didn't bat an eyelid. "Sure, some more pulisheri?""Amma?" I insisted. "Seriously!" "Now did I say no? For you to kick up such a drama?""You don't see it." I began earnestly. "I want to like, fall in love. Not grow into it like everyone else does. Like you and Achan did, not that

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-26441205144482797572010-06-30T11:49:00.005+08:002010-07-02T20:52:34.357+08:00

If you know what that is.I wasn't too sure either, so wiki-ing it was the third task on my list after coming home from the visit to the doctor's. The first two were of course, ensuring that Achan was in bed and that the W.H.O Recommended ORS solution was duly fed to him. He had just contracted food poisoning and apart from running a fever and loose bowels, he was plagued with back aches and bouts

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-43498539082012374592010-06-20T01:15:00.004+08:002010-06-25T22:14:55.511+08:00

(A while ago, on Father's Day, Achan wrote about appupan and me. You can read it here.I've written about Achan on an earlier occasion, you can read it here.)When my father's father passed away, I never cried. That's unusual really since even an insect's ill timed death puts me off considerably (and in extreme cases, make my eyes well up). I remember peering at him through the glass casket,

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-41764832101076034302010-06-08T00:13:00.008+08:002010-08-28T21:04:43.300+08:00

In all honesty, this is an inconsequential thought. Just my over-analyzing brain coming to the fore again. But I do realize that the past few months, it has kept a considerable part of my thinking cells occupied. And now, I’ve decided to “let go”. Do you know how difficult it is? Letting go? I remember during the last semester when I had a gnawing feeling that a friend of mine didn’t reciprocate

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-88585715542468368902010-06-03T20:18:00.010+08:002010-06-07T00:27:04.552+08:00

My internship is coming along well. The first week was pure euphoria as I loved every single thing my project entailed. I even loved the office staff – the HR people, cleaning ladies, new joiners, colleagues in the dept, pantry folks… everyone was enveloped in my all encompassing enthusiasm for all that the company offered. I didn’t, or rather refused, to see any aspect that had the potential to

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-29581834871694052562010-05-25T14:32:00.003+08:002010-05-25T17:25:19.667+08:00

This is so beautiful that I had to post it. I got it from here. Somehow most of the lessons given below, I think I've learnt sometime in my life. Those are the ones in blue. I haven't had a chance to learn or see anyone else learn the lessons in black. Doesn't mean I don't agree with them. I do... with almost all. I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-28616708572697538592010-05-19T19:59:00.011+08:002010-05-22T02:08:24.104+08:00

I am into my third day of internship. The people are likeable, chilled out and focused (quite a sight really, to see them juggling the three with perfect ease). And my work is extremely enjoyable. Of course, it’s not easy. But with the requirement of hard work comes the permission to fall in love with what you are doing. And in two days (the project was assigned yesterday), I have done precisely

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-71987802167707541382010-05-16T22:26:00.003+08:002010-06-07T01:16:57.496+08:00

I have something huge to tell you. I am… ahem, …. *cough, cough**clears throat* *coug- oh well. Here goes… I’m writing a book! Yes! Don’t ask me where I’ve gotten the nerve and resolve to decide that the world might find publishing and reading my novel a worthy pursuit. I really don’t know. What I do know is that the past twenty days have been very emotionally overwhelming. And these

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-9119001968533235722010-05-12T18:47:00.002+08:002010-05-16T19:10:42.078+08:00

A week ago, Ammu was recovering fine. She was to be discharged even, last Tuesday! And then, as Amma and Appu left the hospital to do some work (Amma leaving the hospital for the first time in days), Ammu had seizures. That was the first time I had seen anyone having fits. Calling the sight extremely fearful and unpleasant, are mild descriptions. The book in my hand dropped and for one uncertain

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-78235441291602270992010-05-02T11:15:00.003+08:002010-05-06T17:13:52.996+08:00

Hospital duty deems that my connectivity to the internet is at best, sporadic. And leaving for hospital at 6 in the morning and coming home at 9 in the night, does leave one tired and lethargic - Even if for most part of the day, activity only consists of shifting positions and changing chairs outside the Critical Care Unit…. Which is why, blogging has taken a back seat. I hope to start making

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-44618320569417294812010-04-26T10:20:00.007+08:002010-06-16T19:05:39.447+08:00

(Wrote this on Sunday)Ammu is under the care of a senior doctor, a doctor boss as I like to call him. He has a bunch of junior doctors working under him. “One of them,” my mum had informed me during those two minute chats we had when Ammu was admitted the first time, “is very approachable, likeable and smart. He’s only about 24…” From her tone I could immediately make out shades of keen approval

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-80574712914619560072010-04-25T13:30:00.005+08:002010-05-03T17:37:47.419+08:00

Amma and I have finally arrived in Trivandrum. I now realize how harrowing the experience is to sit outside the Critical Care Unit (CCU; One step higher than the Intensive Care Unit) for many hours at a stretch. Ammu’s condition, though a factor, isn’t surprisingly the key reason. Because after sometime, you begin to accept that whatever is happening is inevitable and truly beyond your control.

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-77803181760643077772010-04-23T09:57:00.003+08:002010-04-23T10:00:29.020+08:00

Anyone who reads this blog would know Jai Joshi. As long as the person looks into the comments section that is... and there you would see Jai, being her caring, superb self; commenting thoughtfully to let me know that she has read the post. And read it thoroughly at that.Jai is a fantastic storyteller. Anything she writes has that touch of magic. That lil old touch, which converts a piece of

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-70335767185610570022010-04-23T09:05:00.007+08:002010-04-23T22:26:01.831+08:00

Yes... finally! I'm home. And now that I'm here, I realize again why I try so hard to stay true to all that my parents have taught and expect of me. You know, its easy to forget. Especially when you are far away, in a different country, where freedom, unbridled freedom is yours. And to be responsible is a choice. No one would know... you see? But seeing my parents wave as I wheeled my luggage

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-18881316832931041942010-04-19T20:51:00.003+08:002010-08-11T18:48:29.719+08:00

I can't stand finding faults with other people. Before you classify me saintly, let me explain... The moment my mind or another person points out a fault of somebody, I am immediately struck by the fact that the reason this 'somebody' possesses the particular characteristic is because (in all probability),a) he doesn't realize it is irritating/insulting/hurting to other people so he is fine

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-68510862296851478352010-04-19T11:32:00.013+08:002010-04-20T07:23:08.282+08:00

(I was studying Game Theory - I kid you not. Then I heard the words in my head and I felt like I had to read them. So took ten minutes off Extensive Games to write the lines below.)I'll be the sun shining in your skyI'll be the hug comforting as you cryI'll be your rainbowI'll be your songI'll be your anything if you'd just call me, 'mine'I'll be the road that takes you placesI'll be the light

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-32707280265469418742010-04-15T20:24:00.013+08:002010-04-28T20:02:33.010+08:00

(Wrote this so long ago, on a Friday morning during the Company Law class... Found it as I was browsing through the edit posts tab.)I am sitting through a horridly perfect Company Law Presentation today. The group has perfect slides, perfect questions, perfect answers... and why, the three of them even look perfect! Out of the two guys, one is also impossibly distinguished looking. You know how

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-25208153631733229062010-04-14T12:20:00.005+08:002010-04-26T14:18:41.797+08:00

Four exams in total. You must know why its one "UP", not down. Because it is the Lord, my Swami, who writes examinations on my behalf. I know... the state I reduce the Lord of the Universe to! But can't be helped. Throughout my life, He's mostly written well and as expected, He's always done a great job. The two are very different possibilities really.... By writing well, its straight As. By

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-16216119378384451132010-04-11T06:24:00.002+08:002010-04-11T06:28:29.290+08:00

For guiding us through every step Crossing by streams, over boulders as we leapt For just being there, for just being yourself My dearest Lord, take a bow. For the love of a thousand mothers Hugging away troubles, with bliss we are smothered For just being there, for just being yourself My dearest Lord, take a bow. For just being there, The most ideal man to walk on earth For

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-49210056046113317952010-04-09T08:44:00.006+08:002010-04-10T13:51:37.824+08:00

My examinations begin on Tuesday. I should be studying now. Or taking a well-deserved nap tired from all the revision. In either case, I really shouldn't be on this tab, typing these words out. So I shall stop. Loyalty to the blog and its readers however force me to believe that I owe you all a post :P. Therefore, here's something to think about... the link is a result of my wanting to learn more

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-60932905292406126762010-04-07T10:44:00.008+08:002010-04-07T11:04:15.052+08:00

(I was working as a Teaching Assistant for the Business Law module, this semester. The job isn't particularly nerve-wracking and the interactions with the first-year students makes work quite enjoyable. We had classes every Wednesday morning 8:30 AM. Last week, class ended. This week, I send an adieu email.Its not the norm really. No one does it... but I had had too much fun to stop.)Dear G1

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-44574437549419462602010-04-05T09:49:00.005+08:002010-04-08T09:10:49.329+08:00

The rain pattered on my windowsill. It made a pleasant sound, cooling and enjoyable. I looked away from my laptop screen and gazed at the sky. The Singaporean rains were awesome. They could be so ferocious, as if they had a mind of their own. My broken umbrella only stood a pitiful testimony to this fact. I sighed, how could an umbrella break because of a mighty rain? Really, quite unheard of!

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-12671510047728112212010-04-02T16:59:00.008+08:002010-04-03T18:09:27.862+08:00

(Wrote this on Tuesday. Posting it today.) I’m an “early to bed, early to rise, makes you healthy, wealthy and wise” type of person. Which means that over the past year, except for four-five times, I’ve always ended up sleeping earlier than my roommate. She ends up switching off our bedroom light before she gets into bed. Yesterday was one of those rare times, when I had to do it. She had

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-79735335316561748952010-04-01T15:31:00.013+08:002011-09-14T21:19:19.321+08:00

I must admit, it has been a while since I’ve had one. Of course, crushing on celebrities, sportspersons, mythical and fictional characters etc are commonplace. They don’t count. But on a real, live breathing boy whom I know is not a figment of an author’s, director’s or media outlet’s imagination? Mm… its been a long while. I can’t pinpoint any particular reason for this. Life has generally been

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-68048991489499081082010-03-30T11:24:00.009+08:002010-03-30T17:35:47.468+08:00

(From here, http://brijbaala.blogspot.com/2010/03/time-magazines-quote-on-sachin.html) When Sachin Tendulkar travelled to Pakistan to face one of the finest bowling attacks ever assembled in cricket, Michael Schumacher was yet to race a F1 car, Lance Armstrong had never been to the Tour de France, Diego Maradona was still the captain of a world champion Argentina team, Pete Sampras had never

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-91634870655828381672010-03-29T09:49:00.005+08:002010-04-18T18:54:33.070+08:00

(Was asked in SSE Class to make a note of how I would like my present and future life to be. I had a million thoughts... but as I wrote them out to Swami, this is what came out instead.)I can tell you all the dreams I’ve charted out for you and me But, I’d rather through your eyes see What the future for us, beholds Yes, I’d love a caring partner, and three adorable children running

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-85905278337132371172010-03-24T21:56:00.006+08:002010-04-28T20:02:33.013+08:00

I'm currently in my second year at SMU. And for the past year, especially this semester, I've been getting the feeling that I'm growing up and becoming independent. Hey, I turned nineteen recently even!Now I'm such a mature, responsible adult that I can behave like the rest of the cool crowd around me - calling their parents once a few days or like the more generous ones, maybe once a day. But

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-79813353501484411102010-03-23T21:28:00.009+08:002010-03-25T09:03:00.341+08:00

Ammuma, my grandmother, is still in the ICU. Her surgery is over but she has been taken off the ventilator. That sounds infinitely healthier, doesn't it?My mum just called to update me.I have no emotion left to receive the news. So I stay numb and go, "Thank God."Over the past two days, I think - I've grown up by leaps. It is a process I cannot describe but I know has taken place irrevocably

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-19955622187730788952010-03-23T12:03:00.007+08:002010-03-23T21:28:34.758+08:00

I've been doing some self-introspection.I mean, no one has ever asked me to sit down and write a poem, story or article. Some of the earliest pieces - about puppies, my mother, a secret garden, a magic ring etc - I remember laboriously and furiously scribbling on scraps of paper at 7-8 years only because I wanted to read them. I had liked the sound of the words in my brain and I wanted to see

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-90145799197910693262010-03-21T23:06:00.014+08:002010-03-28T06:44:52.386+08:00

My grandmother is unwell. She has been admitted to the hospital due to severe vomiting. We still don't know the reason for it. As we wait for the surgeon's report, I'm typing this out.She has been seriously unwell many times before. Three tumours in her brain, one major (though less than my mum's) fire accident, hernia troubles, cataract problems... and I can't remember the rest to complete this

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-66894367159363275222010-03-21T19:38:00.010+08:002010-04-27T12:36:51.460+08:00

When the rain washed anew my whole world And the sunrays warmed my day as it unfurled When the night-sky sprinkled my dreams with cheer And the wind whispered sweet nothings in my ear A smile you wore and you had made it happen.... How, then could I not fall in love with you, My Lord? And hence I did. J When for irrational fears, a comforting hand held mine For sudden anxiety, some wisdom

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-79597762143607213882010-03-12T13:39:00.002+08:002010-04-12T13:52:34.262+08:00

(Heard Priyadarshan is remaking Majid Majidi's masterpiece into a Bollywood avatar, Bum Bum Bole, starring none other than Taare Zameen Par fame, Darsheel Safary in the lead. I hope Priyan does justice to Majidi's vision.I can't recollect how many times I've watched the original over and over again. And it never fails to make my eyes fill up. Easily one of the best films of all times! - below

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-4660386664392528192010-03-09T08:15:00.009+08:002010-03-11T00:17:21.752+08:00

I chanced upon a startling, relatively unheard of, incident from the Mahabharat, recently. Most people know the story of how Krishna went over to Karna's place before the ultimate Kurukshetra war to persuade him to fight on the Pandavas' side. His unassailable argument being, Pandavas' were Karna's own younger brothers! They don't know of this truth but when they do, Karna will be showered with

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-19246837131739982192010-02-24T20:18:00.015+08:002010-06-07T01:17:24.391+08:00

(Really, one of the most random, "all-over-the-place" post in some time! But I have been overwhelmed by the book below and I needed to vent it all out. You can safely give this post a skip. Thanks =D)I just finished reading Yagnaseni: The Story of Draupadi by Prathiba Ray (translated by Pradip Bhattacharya). I was dying to lay my hands on it... How was the Draupadi - Arjuna relationship

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-79145611292090007152010-02-23T13:15:00.000+08:002010-02-24T22:34:56.682+08:00

(Image from www.wolffmorgenthaler.com. I don't own it.)

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-5472623962181656732010-02-14T17:32:00.005+08:002010-02-15T22:35:19.958+08:00

Yup. Feb 14th. Valentine's Day. And if ever the Indians forget the date's significance, we have the horrific Pune German Bakery bomb blasts now to keep it in tragic memory. Anything I say presently will be too less. Those 45 people, who lost their lives or were injured, aren't deriving any comfort from my blogging about them. I can take part in 20 candle night marches, self-importantly talk about

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-14998633215518518182010-02-14T10:32:00.004+08:002010-02-14T11:04:56.685+08:00

Hello. As everyone should quickly notice, today is special. Valentine's Day! Yaay.Though what I'm 'yaay'ing about I have no idea. I have eight chapters to finish for my midterm in EDA, loud (and I mean really loud) drums are playing outside on account of Chinese New Year - and we live on the fifteenth storey, I mean, how would those folks on the first storey be tolerating it? - , I have no lunch

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-38969653739731907972010-02-13T12:28:00.018+08:002010-04-28T14:56:48.206+08:00

(Draupadi reflects on her relationship with Arjun, recollects moments from her syawamwar. The story below is continued from Part I, available here)The man was tall, fair, of a lean built, yet muscular. His face was radiant and appearance, striking. He walked to the middle of the court clad in the attire of a Brahmin, but every step of his declared instead, the pride and confidence of a Kshatriya.

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-53037601144517509492010-02-10T18:18:00.019+08:002010-04-28T15:01:18.553+08:00

And that archer, changed my life for ever ~ Draupadi.The beautiful lady sat by the window sill, gazing outside. Her name was Draupadi. The prized daughter of King Drupada, monarch of the region of Panchala; the protected sister of Prince Dhrishtadyumna, the daring warrior and later Commander of the Pandava Army; the grateful sakhi (friend) of Vasudev Krishna, the Master Prankster, Most

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-37846509875775628462010-02-08T13:19:00.003+08:002010-05-31T23:55:16.682+08:00

(A really random post. But just in case there are any other lost souls like me out there, this could be of some use)I'm just back from an enlightening lunch with a friend. I say enlightening, because in the span of the forty minutes we were together, N. managed to remind me of a few essential truths that I had forgotten along the way."Haha, no way... you trust too easily!" he remarked.We were on

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-67241403711684621372010-02-07T06:30:00.002+08:002010-02-11T07:33:54.329+08:00

Pray and let God worry is an insightful quote by Martin Luther King. I wonder what thoughts passes through his head as he made this profound statement. Anyway, for me, its astonishment more than profoundness which promotes me to title the post, this way. Because, just recently I discovered this amazing phenomenon that rules our lives! It has impressed me beyond description and completely changed

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-16701243877132078862010-01-24T21:43:00.005+08:002011-02-16T13:08:53.005+08:00

(Sanskrit for I shall do what you say. In the Mahabharat, Arjuna says this to Krishna after a huge disagreement between them - a result of Arjuna thinking and analyzing too much. Later on Krishna rebukes him gently saying, "Don't rely on your intellect henceforth. Just carry out my divine will. " Arjuna breaks down with shame and gratitude and replies, "Bhagawan, Karishye Vachanam Tava" ) I

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-82126976551905603262010-01-20T22:20:00.000+08:002010-01-21T14:00:06.788+08:00

Yup, you. And I shall begin with a story.Once upon a time, roughly three years ago, a bright eyed, excited girl decided that she absolutely adored writing. By then, she had also slowly reached the conclusion that not everyone might adore hers, and getting people to pay to read her words (ie get her books published) might be a far shot. But instead of moping around, she took the problem to task.

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-79550756541398669262010-01-18T14:59:00.000+08:002010-01-22T23:27:56.448+08:00

Last semester, I took the course International Economics B. Its wasn't particularly enlightening in terms of economic knowledge, so as to speak. But life lessons? Many did I come across!First off, there was Stephanie Mareen Buschle, my now bosum German bud. More about her in a later post. Then, Federico and Daniel - fun loving Italian guys who've never heard the English words, "hard work". There

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-90960800307229250742010-01-18T08:11:00.000+08:002010-01-21T14:04:06.132+08:00

Proud, Prouder, Proudest.Sai Seva: How a Journey of Hope and Love Began From a Terrible Train Tragedy - December 2009

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-68660825211476216222010-01-13T22:02:00.001+08:002010-02-16T09:45:54.574+08:00

My thoughts were provoked after a conversation with my roommate, last semester. She had read some forwarded email about Tiger Wood's villa in the middle of some extremely beautiful, important place. Her description was punctuated with, "If only I had", "I wish..", "So lucky, man!", "Whoa!", "If I were him, I'd be the happiest,you know?".I did know and for the first few moments I agreed with her.

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-66586232264903621002010-01-12T14:44:00.001+08:002011-08-25T23:06:59.718+08:00

In Economics, we have the theory of the invisible hand, which, simply put, states that if we let the market do its job, the available resources will be allocated in the most efficient manner amongst the players in the market. This is defined as a 'pareto optimal' outcome, meaning that in such a situation, there is no way to make one player better off, without making another worse off. Such

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-57627662452964698772010-01-11T07:54:00.001+08:002010-04-19T17:25:01.293+08:00

This time, during my December break at Trivandrum, I realized that kids nowadays are certainly getting quicker and cockier these days. 'Herding' my young over-enthusiastic cousins could have been a reason to arrive at that conclusion... and so could the following conversation which took place between my aunt and her young son, Keshav, aged seven years.(After an umpteenth run around the house

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-29505665803149434102010-01-09T07:50:00.000+08:002010-04-28T19:59:15.779+08:00

The first week at School, is the best. New classes, professors and class mates. Invariably, you'll come across that cute guy who sat near the Professor's desk, in the Economics of Asymmetric Information module, sitting right behind you in your Psychology... and your bosom buddy from Intermediate Microeconomics B saving you a seat in the Applied Econometrics class... Freshmen Teambuilding Camp

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-49189434284480866412009-12-31T22:51:00.001+08:002010-06-25T22:36:24.348+08:00

(Faye is a recent statistically significant female addition, to Professor Eduard Jordaan's family. I haven't met her... but am sure she's a cherubic darling. Hopefully she - and her father - takes no offence with my taking the liberty to send her an open letter.)Dear Faye, First off, a belated Merry Christmas! I hope your first Christmas in this brand new world impressed upon you that nice

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-1296944538978395432009-12-30T12:05:00.000+08:002010-02-19T10:53:34.463+08:00

A letter I wrote to Sister Deepa on Nov 30th, 2009. Dear Deepa Akka, Sairam ! I find it extremely painful and hard to write this... very very sorry, am almost in tears, but I know this is the right thing to do. So Akka, could you please strike my name of the choir list? I haven't been able to attend any of the later practices and it doesn't feel right on my conscience to be a part of this

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5608371501981753322.post-77182778431670360312009-12-22T11:56:00.000+08:002010-02-24T13:18:37.339+08:00

Vaishnavi Nairhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18153900909059210450noreply@blogger.com5