My Aunt’s Castle

Image:  Zeppelubil / Th. Haft / Torgau

There are two absolute truths in my life—my aunt is a billionaire and she is always sixteen.

My aunt, whom we (the nieces and nephews) lovingly call “Boo,” built a castle, costing a few billion dollars, somewhere in the late 1980s. The castle was named “Kyfam.” Kyfam had over a hundred rooms with each room aesthetically and ergonomically designed to suit the needs of her nieces and nephews. The unique selling proposition of Kyfam was that every room was monochrome. Every single element in a room strictly adhered to the colour code of that room. So, the Blue room had a blue door with a blue bed, blue curtains, blue tiles, blue commode, blue basin as well as blue toiletries. Name it and it was blue. Similarly, each room adorned a different shade. The bright white castle split into 100 different shades, as though it had just travelled through a prism.

Throughout our childhood, Boo bragged about her fortune. She did this to earn our loyalty and I must say it worked. After all, she was much richer than her three brothers put together. Besides, all we wanted from life was to be an integral part of Kyfam.

A few years after Kyfam was built, we grew up.  We discovered that the reason Rome wasn’t built in a day was because Boo turned down the offer. That’s right! It barely took her a few seconds to build Kyfam. The name was crafted with the initials of my grandpa and grandma “K” and “Y” respectively and “fam”— short for family. That was around the time we learnt what they meant by “building castles in the air.”

Nonetheless, out of all Boo’s creations, Kyfam is her master masterpiece (so far). On the pillars of our imagination stands our family heritage Kyfam, the greatest gift an aunt can give her children and a gift our children will inherit. She is still the youngest billionaire we know. 🙂

P.S.: The rooms also ensured that your pee and poo adhered to the colour code. That was, by the way, the most fascinating and magical part!

Another looong …

Another looong pause but I am back! Was down with exams; the drill —ten days, eleven subjects, fluctuating pulses and moments when your neurons refuse to connect. I didn’t detest it with a vengeance this time. Alas! Age has killed my passion!

Nevertheless, it was a neat wind up and I am looking forward to an eventful holiday. There are a few things I intend to accomplish this season. “Laughing my bloody lungs out no matter which way the wind blows!” is on top of my list. Think about it. If you need to depend on “great sense of humour” to crack up, you are leading a boring life. So this is going to be me laughing just for the love of laughter.

Then, I am going to be listening to a lot of music along with a lot of singing and foot stomping! Loads of it! Loud! Finally, there is going to be food. Experiments with food will be disclosed if and only if the results of “family testing” are positive.

Mastered it!

Two weeks down! It’s been an odd yet interesting journey that is now beginning to tend towards hectic. It’s nice to meet with new faces, new voices, new perceptions and old ways.

I’m neither happy nor sad but, possibly, anxious to be flanked by ugly reference books. Remember the graduation days when tossing your books into bonfires, while dancing around it, qualified as fairy tales? Although I’ve not reached that stage yet, I do think it’s time we got rid of the gravy. Serve me some juicy chunks of information already!

The good news is I don’t abhor my professors as much as I did during graduation. You know the stupid youngsters who’d rather assume their professors are out to make life hell for them? Remember, your bosses will always put your professors in good light. This is one of the advantages of gathering some work experience before pursuing your masters. Then no matter how your professors turn out to be, you’ll respect them.

I’ve not made any close buddies yet. I’m still in the communicating and scanning phase; topped with zero expectations. I’m not too sure how I’m going to get through two years without some crazy goons around me. I mean, what’s college without some awesome nut cases! Boy I miss junior college!

My writing is going to take a beating. Not like I’ve been churning out high quality literature but you’ll see more raw drafts now on because I’d like to keep up with the a-post-a-week ritual. I see you’ve noticed I’m way behind schedule. So what? I’m trying!

How We Painted Vi’s Wall

Back home, after six long years of educating herself, my friend wanted her room to look bright and inviting, both for herself and the kids she provides therapy to. My job was to make that happen. This was our first time. Before experimenting, we thought it a good idea to get together and make a rough plan.

Wall1 Plan

 

Wall2 Plan

From the plans you must’ve figured that Vi is a diehard green digger.

Fortunately, Vi didn’t want the paints to last forever and neither of us wanted to get into any scraping, primer formalities. So, the boring work went right out the window.

On a not-so-happening Saturday we planned to meet up somewhere and buy some paints from somewhere. We walked in unsure of what type of paints to ask for. On a random guy’s advice we settled for water based wall paints that dry in four hours flat. The colour palette didn’t have all the colours we were looking for, so, we replaced them with new colours. We bought a few brushes and rollers, drank some sugarcane juice and headed straight home. We also invited a few friends to help us out with the painting but only Hem seemed excited about an overnight project.

A bit of lazing, a glass of tang, a plate of pasta and a few television shows later we got the room ready for a makeover. By then the third member of the clan had arrived and we were ready to paint the town green.

First, we divided wall1 into four parts with a paper tape to get it ready for the four green stripes. The opposite wall didn’t look any different so I didn’t bother putting it up.

tapes on wall1

 

The first stroke at midnight

Two coats later, the base for wall2 is ready.

 

getting the colours ready for wall1

 

stripe1 down

 

stripe2 down

We stopped at 5:30 am and left the paints to dry. In the mean time we slept and got back to work at 9:30 am.

Next two stripes down!

Second coat, tapes off and here we are!

 

Next, we used buckets, bowls of varying sizes to create the pattern of circles on wall2. For very large circles, we used a rope as a rounder– used one end as the center and held a pencil at the other end.

painting the circles

 

painting some more circles

 

and some more

We applied a second coat to the circles and wound up at around 4:30 pm. I decided to leave the detailing for the next day ‘cause my hand was far from steady and I needed sleep.

Detailing begins with Vi’s sun sign—Pisces…

 

…followed by Vi’s favourite fruit – grapes…

 

…followed by Vi’s favourite dancing instrument- ghungroo.

 

Vi signs her wall

 

So do I!

We made a seperate section for handprints. Hem left us half way, so she has yet to leave her handprints. Anyway, this is what the completed wall looks like.

Tada!

Back to Black

 

When I’m confused, I wear black and when I reach my destination, I discover that ninety percent of the population was as confused when they looked into their wardrobes. Dinners, parties, Saturday nights, clubbing, Halloween, rock concerts, be it anything, I know how most of us will turn up- black shirts, black t-shirts, overrated short black dresses, black gowns, black tunics, black shoes, black jeans, black jackets and some whites. Not that if you are wearing a white number you are any more creative than us. But the unspoken dress code seems to be black. “What are you wearing tonight?” is as good as asking “What colour are the wheels of your car?” Black!

We hail from a country (India) where every celebration is grand, and every party scene traditionally explodes with bright colours, electric hues, shimmer, glitter and shine. It is also a country where, once upon a time, blacks and whites didn’t even exist in one’s wardrobe. They were worn only to funerals or by widows. It’s a good thing that today blacks, whites and greys are experimented with but unfortunately they dominate our party wear. Sexy or not, classy or not, the lack of colour is beginning to bore me!

Nevertheless, tastes change, notions change and so do our styles. But let’s not confuse colours with outfits. I am not a fashion designer nor a model nor a stylist nor the editor of a fashion magazine but I can tell a black gown from a black nightgown. As for the guys, I can tell you were confused– black t-shirt with the superman logo versus plain black t-shirt, white t-shirt with the superman logo versus plain white t-shirt. But you finally settled for a black shirt. That must’ve been a difficult choice!

In the midst of this gloom a lonely red, yellow or green can’t help but scream, “Look at me!” and you’d probably be ousted if you turned up like this for a death metal concert. But it is just a celebration night and colour shall do you no harm. So break the black routine! For the unimaginative ones, I strongly recommend two pints of beer before you open your wardrobe next time. It will enable you to grow the much needed pair of balls to pick a coloured outfit.

P.S.: The sight of colour makes me so happy, I could cry!

Back to Dancing

I danced on stage after three years. I had almost forgotten what it felt like being on stage. The performance was so much fun! I wouldn’t call it a satisfying performance though, maybe because the process was devoid of the intension to excel and at the same time I had not painted a picture of what the final product should look like. The reason I began the jig was to go back and check if I really liked dancing they way I did in school. On second thought, it was getting increasingly difficult to distinguish between me and the couch. We were almost done blending into each other.

Just to set the record straight, I am not a phenomenal dancer. This experiment was not done to test whether I could move my limbs efficiently but whether I enjoyed moving them in the first place. So, a friend and I randomly joined a beginner’s batch. The batch had an assortment of people – teens, young office goers, mums and dads and so on. I walked in with no expectations but I was mildly excited at being choreographed again.  As always, I positioned myself in the last row. It’s a position I am most loyal to – last bench, last row. If found lurking in the front rows, I am parceled to the last row corner positions, benches and so on. Fair enough. I tend to block views vertically; not so much laterally. Anyway, I took the center, last row so I could watch and ape as instructed.

The first few days were like regular drills, not too exciting, not too boring. The workout sessions were challenging but not exhausting enough. So it was not quite the stress buster I was hoping it would be. I was bored. A few sessions later I learnt that it was very obvious from the way I conducted myself that I was uninterested. But by then the sessions had started gathering momentum. The workouts were more tiring and the dance more enjoyable. Yet, in the last few days the energy fizzled out. But communications between new friends were at its peak. There was more talking, planning, evaluating than dancing along with excitement about the final stage performance.

Come the final day, the performance was a pleasant breeze. The dance was short, simple and enjoyable. With about twenty five dancers occupying the stage, I was glad I was positioned in the second row mid-area. Yet, I had my doubts that my folks would spot me from their far-away seats. Honestly, I didn’t want them to attend the show but mum and dad seemed to want to watch it and my sis and bf seemed pretty excited about the performance. Well, they spotted me! Yayy!

Verdict: The more I dance, the more I enjoy it. If I were to rate this experience, I’d give it a 3/5.

Office: The After-Lunch Files

I am sitting on an oddly shaped table with my laptop a little higher than comfortable and my head tilted to the left. This position will probably give me a sore neck and a head ache in sometime. If there is one thing I want to change about offices it is their tables and chairs. Both must be made adjustable.

*stares at the empty soft-board*

My body seems to have conveniently exceeded the normal oxygen consumption level used for digestion. And it is making me feel really drowsy. Even the bright pink building walls, outside my window, are unable to shock me to normalcy. I am trying to hide my yawns. I am alternating between resting my head on the desk and staring into blank spaces.

*yawns*

It’s been eleven days since my last post. My sense of humour is taking a little walk. Alright, a long walk. Alright, maybe you believe I didn’t have one to begin with.

*stares at the screen*

This post has no purpose. It’s a random rant of a droopy human being. I am sure you sound worse in this state, especially after overeating. I had considered inserting time stamps to describe my hourly journey toward recovery.

 “Thursday 21 April 2011 12.30pm I am watching the pigeons get entertained by the rotating fans of the air conditioners. I see two dusty toilet commodes on the first floor balcony of the neighbouring office building. My analysis of the layout of the building and their common balcony tells me that the commodes are right outside the toilet. Two floors above that, I see a well connected flush. I fail to imagine what wonders a flush placed outside the toilet can do.”

The write up was beginning to sound like an excerpt from A Prison Diary, so, I dropped it.

I think I have more-or-less recovered from the trauma. I’d like to get back to work.

Wedding Cards and Scribbles

There were days when we used to look forward to our friends’ 18^th birthdays (16^th in some countries). Now, we look forward to their weddings.  As we reach the senior citizen bracket, we’ll dread their funerals.  (Ah… one down, five more to go!)

Well, I like this wedding chaos because now I get wedding cards with my name (Ms. K) on the envelope as opposed to “Mr & Mrs. XYZ and Fly” where I am a part of the Fly (family). Secondly, wedding cards drive me crazy because I love paper! It gives me an opportunity to use my golden marker on some great quality paper. Here are a few of my scribbles.

Before I reach my sixties, I am sure I’ll be witness to second and third weddings before we enter a world where marriages will be a fashionably outdated concept and weddings will be history.

I Miss Onions!

All I’ve been thinking of for the past few weeks is onions! The price of this underground wonder has doubled, leaving me terribly disappointed. Ever since the sharp rise, onions have disappeared from the plates and onion-based dishes have vanished from the menus of most small-time restaurants in my area. I have to make do with the teeny-tiny spring onions and shallots. It’s not bad, but shallots are definitely not the same as freshly cut onions sprinkled over grilled chicken and mutton kebabs. I miss the lovely, dark-pink, evil smelling bulbs that make you cry when you chop them and burn your tongue when you bite them. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind the price hike so much had the vendor not given me pink, under-developed, globular objects under the pretext of selling onions.

Interestingly, not so long ago, I learnt that onions and lilies belonged to the same family– Liliaceae. When I first read this, I naturally went “But lilies smell so good!”  If body odor is anything to go by, there is no brotherhood brewing between lilies and onions. In the new classification however, onions belong to the Alliaceae family. Although onions and lilies belong to new families now, the sight of fresh, divine-smelling lilies doesn’t keep me from wondering what went wrong with the onions. Nevertheless, I love the stinky bulbs! I miss them! I’ll probably spiral into depression if my next order–deep fried spicy prawns–is not served on a bed of fresh, red onions rings.

Post A Week 2011

This is my very first post on WordPress and I’ve taken up the Post a Week challenge to keep myself motivated throughout 2011! Had it not been for the challenge, I wouldn’t be here.

At the moment, I am very excited and nervous. This year I plan to churn out random posts until I find a topic or issue that I would really like to focus on. Through this week I’ll be getting myself familiar with the dashboard! So don’t be surprised if my blog looks new each time you walk in. I’ve not updated the About Me page either.  Yes, I’m embarrassed. But it’ll be ready in a week’s time. I mean, naming my blog was tedious enough ‘cause all the names are taken. It required quite a bit of brain racking before I could come up with “Neuro-Rhythm”. Why “Neuro-Rhythm”? Well, one’s brain extends connections to various parts of one’s body to generate patterns in color, sound or words, which I would like to call “rhythm,” however random the expression.

Anyway, good luck to all the bloggers who’ve taken up the Post a Day (wow!!) and Post a Week challenges. Cheers!