Creeping People Out With Knowledge 101

Lovelies!

It is 4.30 in the morning! Why am I not sleeping? I'll tell you why : I don't have school tomorrow! And do you know what? I didn't have school today either! And do you know what? I don't even have school day after but that's because it's a Sunday so I should typing in italics now okay.

So okay I'm in 12th grade now. I can't believe I'll go off to college in a year. Less than a year! One of my best friends/juniors, lettus call him Hittz, sincerely asked me if I could maybe stay back after 12th (he did not say it in those words, he said please fail) but I had to patiently explain that my mother says I have to pass school. Bummer. :(

Right, so it's 4.30 in the morning, and after watching The One With Bary and Mindy's Wedding (er, I mean after studying Current Electricity...), I decided that I needed to write. I tried writing a poem, and I typed one halfway, but then I decided that I hated it and deleted it. I don't know why I'm telling you all this.

I think my writing skills have exhausted because I had to write a three page essay on India as I see it in 2020 and those were three mighty big pages okay I kid you not one page was about three feet long okay it took a lot of effort to write it and why am I telling you all this.

Lettus get straight to our point.

I was lying in bed just staring at the walls of my bedroom or something I don't know and then I looked at my nails (what even) and I remembered something that happened a few weeks ago -

THE TIME I CREEPED OUT REKHA DIDI FOR ALL OF ETERNITY

Okay, I was making french toast for myself. For those of you who don't know, what you basically do is, you slice up your bread (the bread you have I mean, I was proof reading this and slice up your bread sounded very wrong for some reason), then you beat eggs into a bowl, and then you dip your bread into the egg batter thingajima, and then you fry the bread and then, well, you eat it.

So I was making french toast for myself, instead of you know, studying or something, but I got bored after making like two slices and I asked our domestic helper, let's call her Rekha Didi, (Rekha is her name, didi is a term for endearment, or a term given to your elder) to finish off the job for me. When she brought the toast to me, I offered her some. She said no, she didn't eat egg. I shrugged and devoured my toast. She looked at me and asked me, didn't I feel cruel eating another animal's baby? I was confused, since the eggs we purchased were not fertilized eggs, and hence there was no animal-baby eating.

Now, she doesn't understand English (She's learning though. My father, a professor of cardiology, patiently sits with her and says Good Morning, Thankyou, Please etc until she repeats, and she's such a fast learner, better than me anydayyy). How could I explain complicated stuff like fertilization to her without having a common language to communicate? How does one describe chicken sex and fertilization in Hindi? That's not exactly what we're taught at school, is it? But I couldn't let her think I was some insane animal baby killer eater. I just couldn't. (But I do eat chicken...can't we just assume the chicken we eat are all the mean chickens who bullied the other chickens so the bullying chicken in question had to be eaten? No? You're going to stop reading now aren't you ;_;)

I called her to my side, and started explaining.

Me : You know when two people *makes awkward hand gestures* you know when two people like you when they you know do like you know it
Her : Wtf r u saying lol
Me : You know how you know us females er we have like um eggs you know...
Her : WTF R U SAYING I HAVE AN EGG INSIDE ME
Me : Oh dear God not like the eggs we eat you don't have a sunny side up floating inside you...damn...okay so you know like males they have this thing inside them you know which they like give to us...
Her : ....
Me : *makes awkward hand gestures* you know when like they give us the thing and then like eggs it gets the thing so you know baby etc
Her : pls stop pls pls
Me : So like...when they like don't give us the thing..so like in hens..the rooster and the hen..they like don't do it..so no like *makes awkward hand gestures to imply implantation*  no baby...you know...
Her : I'll eat egg if you shut up.

Watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Is The Solution For Everything In Life

So I was watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. yesterday. The One Where Ross and Rachel take a break. So Ross 'cheats' (do you think it was justified? I do not.) on Rachel, and her reaction...I don't know what it was, but her reaction made me stop and think. How angry she got, how unforgiving she was, how she hit him with pillows, and it made me feel so proud. It made me proud to be a woman.

So I came up with this -

I AM A WOMAN

"I flip my long hair over my shoulder,

I chop my locks off, it makes me feel bolder.

I lid my eyes with black, make my lips dark and red,

I wear my sweatpants and eat Cheetos in bed.

I wear four inch heels, and still manage to twirl,

I jog for miles, my bouncing ponytail still intact and curled.

I am unique, you can spot me in a crowd,

I am a woman, and I am proud.

You cannot lay a finger on me,

You cannot tell me whether or not to be free.

You can’t define the length for my skirt,

You can’t force me to clean the grime and dirt.

You can’t tear my clothes and take me by force,

You can’t shut me up just by shutting the doors.

You can’t twist my wrist, and make me feel pained,

I am a woman, I cannot be contained.

You can’t raise your eyebrows, if my bra strap shows,

You can’t roll your eyes if I pierce my bellybutton or nose.

You can’t purse your lips if I work a nine to five job,

You can’t punish me if I have a teenage heartthrob.

You can’t cheat on me, and think you’ll get away – how absurd,

You can’t beat me to pulp, and expect me to not say a word.

You don’t know that I have thousands like me by my side,

I am a woman, by the Girl Code we abide.

I demand equality, and fulfilment of my rights,

I can and I will put up the deadliest of fights.

I am the spirit of every girl that has been wronged,

I am the incarnation of those, for justice who have longed.

I will not be swayed by your hollow words,

I will not step down until my voice is heard.

I will get peace and freedom, no matter what you may say,

I am a woman, I always get my way."

not a real post, part 50

I started an Instagram account for my poems! Check it out. :) I'll update it as regularly as I can.

https://instagram.com/perfectlypretentiouspoems/

Okay, I'm going to watch Gossip Girl now.

xoxo

Do You Want Aloo Gobbi In Your Hair Too?

Guys and gals and pizzas and mushrooms.

HELLO!

My exams are over! I am officially done with 11th standard. I can't believe I'm a gazillion years old already. I can't believe I'll leave for college in a year. What even? It seems like yesterday that I was teaching all my friends how to skip rope. Er, I'm not too sure what that has to do with age and maturity and so on. But you get the gist, okay. 

Speaking of zwingylalaness, I am soon going to start an Instagram account for posting pictures of the poems I will write (and have written) in this really awesome typewriter font thingy which will make everything seem deep! Look, I'll prove it -

Ya. :3 So yes, I'll link the account to my blog, CHECK IT OUT otherwise i will crie.

Okay.

So today to celebrate our second official day of freedom (our last exam, Economics, was two days before), and to spend time with Tall-y who is leaving us in two weeks time (his father is being relocated), all of us went bowling. I came, er, second last. The only person I won from was Tall-y's younger brother (who is of course taller than me, what with him being Tall-y's younger brother, KEEP UP) but I was very proud of myself. I spent a lot of time gliding across the floor in my bowling shoes. I've bowled a zillion times (is that how you say it) and yet I got like five gutterballs in a row. It was sad, we will not talk about this on this side of the grave ever again.

Moving on.

So after losing tremendously at life, I decided that I wanted a haircut. A side fringe to be specific. Many fashion experts asked me with many a quizzical looks why I did not go for a front fringe. My answer to that, my dear young loves, is patience. It shall happen in the summer vacations. Not yet. But we digress. This is not to discuss the beauty of my hair. That is scheduled for Thursdays at 9 p.m. (IST)

ANYWAY. So I went to the little salon, and I had dragged Hot-y along with me, while the other boys did weird stuff that boys do when they are alone (ie went to the Nike outlet and made noise and I don't know dribbled basketballs and stuff). So while I was paying the receptionist at the salon, there was a man eating an Indian dish called Aloo Gobbi. Now, now. Do not get me wrong. Aloo Gobi is obviously a very delicious dish. Aloo = Potato and Gobbi = cauliflower. So it's actually a pretty tasty combination. I mean I loathe it, but you must remember that I am a buffoon. This is what it looks like (the aloo gobbi, not me being a buffoon) -

 Anyway, it's cleared out, it's a tasty dish, but this man was eating it with his hands etc, and I HAVE NO PROBLEM WITH THAT, but I'm just a bit picky when it comes to food, so that scene was slightly off putting for me. But I put it all behind me and I patiently waited for my haircut.

The Aloo Gobbi man finished aloo-gobbing and washed his hands with water. In front of me. Without soap. And then. He came. Towards me. And. 

Cut.

My. 

Hair.

With his Aloo Gobbi hands. 

It was sad, okay. It reminded me of what had happened in the early summer of 9th grade. Which brings us to today's rant. COMMENCE.

It was a warm summer evening in ancient Greece. Wait. What? No. It was some time. In India. Little Kapoorni was in 9th standard, and she had a Hindi exam that day. She was riding in the bus, going to school, revising her notes like a good girl. 

She will stop referring to herself in third person now.

So I was in the bus. Sitting. Studying. Like a good girl should. So our bus had those railings over the seats, where we could keep our bags and stuff. Anyway, the bus was jam packed, but I was not paying attention to anything around me. I was vair, vair engrossed in my Hindi notes. Suddenly, I felt something on my hair. Was it raining? I had definitely felt something warm and wet touch my immaculate french braid. I frowned, and touched my hair. I felt something warm and sticky on my head. Had my head voluntarily exploded? I looked at my fingers. There was something...yellow-y on them. I think I almost burst into tears. I felt something again hit my head. I looked up. Was God peeing on me? I inspected the railing above my head and my blood froze. 

It was the driver's tiffin! He'd probably gotten daal chaawal (read lentils and rice, wait let me show you what it looks like)

for lunch and it was falling all over my bloody hair. Plus, it smelled so funky. Pretty soon, lots of delightful yellow chunks of it had fallen into my hair. Ah, attractive. Take note, young girls. Take beauty tips from Yours Truly. So by that time, everybody had noticed what was going on (I was shrieking very loudly) and they were all sympathizing. Ie laughing. I couldn't do anything about it though, I had a test to give, so I did give it with misty eyes, while everybody called me daal girl for the rest of the day.

What can I say. Sucks to be me.

I WROTE A POEM AND IT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A TITLE YET BUT I'M TOO EXCITED TO CARE!

OMG YOU GUYS IT'S 2015! (In case some of you had forgotten - The Obvious, brought to you by Kaporni) Yay I'm so excited I have so many goals and I'm going to be so organized and so SO good at Math maybe even Physics this year! Except that it's 1.45 am and tomorrow is a school day and I'm not yet asleep. But that's for a good(ish) reason! Okay so it's been a pretty long time since I wrote a poem which wasn't dedicated to somebody (for a friend, etc) which made me very sad and doubt myself but not for a very long time though. I'm pretty self satisfied when it comes to all that. OKAY so I hadn't er 'penned my musings' in a long time if you will (I wouldn't) and tonight I finally did! Hurrah and yippie! I was lying in bed looking at my pictures in my phone's camera when I began feeling very nostalgic for some reason, which is sort of the theme for the poem. That, and time. I don't quite know if I'll convey the message I want to, or if people will be able to relate to it. I sure hope they will.

So the poem is about time and nostalgia. And how things change. And how sometimes we desperately try to stop change but change is all "To hell with YOU, Imma do what I please!". And sometimes, we do nothing to stop it. Either way, Change wins. And that scares me. And comforts me.

"Time seems to be slipping by, and I can't seem to stop it,
Someone, somewhere is killing it, and I seem to be the culprit.
People change, and so do the circumstances,
We promise that we won't, but we soon do run out of second chances.
The face of your alleged 'lifelong friend' since ages you have not seen,
A month or two since your hour long chats it almost has been.
Day by day, everything and everybody appears to be the same,
Yet when you look back, it is altogether a different game.
You gradually replace people, one after another, in your life,
If they cut the cord, chances are, you handed them the knife.
Maybe you tried to hold on, but your hand eventually slipped,
Maybe to not let go you weren't yet fully equipped.
Change is but natural, for existence required,
He who can change yet remain consistent, is, however, admired.
Time is eternal, yet life will be over in the blink of an eye,
Call up someone you used to talk to; and don't ask why.
Some people are worth keeping around till your last breath and final sigh,
After all nobody will be around forever; neither you nor I."

Thank you for reading!
Hugz 4frm Kapoorni

this is a legitimate post

subscribe to my blog otherwise i will crie alott :'(
dem heartbreakz
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The Day I Spent All My Money On A Pair Of Gloves That I Did Not Wear Again

Note 1 - I am putting my life as stake even as I write these words since my mother does not know about this wonderful er epic, so I might actually get into (a lot) of trouble if and when she reads this. Three cheers for Kapoorni's never ending heroic deeds!
Note 2 - A lot of people ask me this, and yes, all these stories are true! I'm not exaggerating.
Note 3 - Mommy, if you're reading this, I'm totally kidding. This did not happen.

Okay, so a few days back I attended this badminton tournament, which was part of this annual sports meet thingie let's call it the AST (Annual Sports-Meet Thingie) as part of the school team (which does not actually exist). So anyway, there were five of us, three boys and two girls (talk about an unbalanced sex ratio) in addition to our Tennis Coach who was our escort since we do not have a badminton coach.

Or a badminton court.

But I digress.

Anyway, the Badminton AST was to be held at this school, let's call it The School. So The School is pretty far away from our school, and all six of us plus the driver could not fit into a car, so our coach sent two girls and two boys by car, and he followed us with another student on his bike. He told us to meet him by a coffeehouse, let's call it The Coffehouse (I rock at this naming game, do I not). He told us to wait there, and he would join us in a while.

Now let me just say I'm about the worst person to have along on a road trip of any sort. I am completely clueless when it comes to directions (or, well, anything) so I had no idea where The Coffehouse or The School were, I just listened to my music during the card ride and prayed that the other people would have some clue as to where we were headed. After listening to Bang Bang and All About The Bass approximately twenty five thousand times, we finally arrived in front of The Coffehouse. The car dropped us off and went. We assumed that our coach would be arriving shortly so we just stood outside The  Coffehouse in the cold and waited for him.

He took his sweet time. We did everything to pass the minutes. We clicked selfies. We talked. We discussed the probability of winning or losing our upcoming matches. Eventually we got tired of the small talk and just looked around at the neighbouring shops. There were these small roadside shops everywhere selling the typical cheap, horrible quality, second hand goods. I was checking out this particular shop selling gloves and beanies and that sort of thing, when a particularly horrendous item caught my eye.

Okay, so you know those motorcycle gloves (I'm assuming that's what they are called...)? The fingerless ones? The ones that make one look like an ultimate badass? Yeah, those ones. I love them. Always have. I never had my own pair so I just improvised by cutting the finger part off the gloves I already had (something my mother truly loved...not).

So there I was, standing in the cold outside The Coffehouse waiting for the coach to show up, trying to focus on not letting my leg warmers freeze to my shins when I spotted the most lovely (ie ugly) pair of fingerless gloves (they were really ugly I don't know I loved them I don't know what's wrong with me I really don't). It was love at first sight. I asked the shopkeeper how much they were and he quoted a price. I have no experience in bargaining so I had no idea whether this was a reasonable price or not. I consulted my teammates who shook their heads in pity (perhaps at my taste) and got the price much down. They would've gotten it down even further had I not begun to already take the money out of my pocket. Anyway, so I paid and then realised that I had spent all the money I had on me, which had to make me survive for another six hours at least.

But it was worth it. The gloves were amazing.

Except for one thing. They reeked of leather. Not that yummy leather smell that comes from that really awesome shoe shop. No, it reeked of that bad leather smell. The smell that makes you hurl for an entire lifetime. I tried spraying every inch of the gloves with my perfume but it still lingered, so I decided to just the put the darn gloves in my bagpack and wash them the following evening (I think they're still in my bag).

Even after all this, our coach still hadn't shown up, so we decided to just sit inside the warm and toasty coffehouse and treat ourselves to maybe a coffee or two. We sat down, all four of us, and neatly assembled our respective rackets and kits, or math book, in my case. Everyone was doing their own thing. The boys were talking about...whatever it is that boys talk about, and my fellow teammate was listening to her songs, while I was doing maths. I was politely waiting for one of them to order something, since

1) I was famished
2) I didn't have money on me
3) We would be there a long time and The Coffehouse would throw us out if we didn't order anything soon.

I finally addressed the elephant in the room.

"Guys, are we going to order anything or not?"

They looked at me in a quizzical manner. Long story short, I was the only person who had brought along any money, apart from the other boy, who was with our coach. I had spent it all, however, on a pair of leather-reeking gloves, as you well know, hence meaning that none of us had any money.

The minutes passed.

One of the waiters eventually, subtly, slipped a menu on our table.

 Wow, subtle as a gun.

I remembered that I did have a ten rupee note in my pocket, and one of the boys had four one rupee coins. Put together, we had fourteen rupees (I'll hold on while you get the calculator to check my math).

We got really excited, and checked the menu. Doughnuts, coffee, ice cream, sundaes, juices, sandwiches..out of our budget. The cookies were fifteen rupees. So close, yet so far. We did spot one thing, however, that was totally in our budget, but it seemed a little impractical to order the add on cheese dip. We were toying with the idea of maybe ordering it, when thankfully the other boy, ie the Boy With The Money finally arrived, and we immediately tackled him and made him order nachos for us.

We looked the waiter straight in the eye as we ordered, as if to say What if we sat here for forty minutes clicking pictures and not ordering anything, we finally did order something, stop judging us, we will tip you!!!!!!!!!

I never thought a box of nachos could regain my lost dignity.