Confused-etarian

For the past couple of months my sister and I have been calling ourselves vegetarians for some reason when we are clearly NOT.

I feel like a big fat hypocrite when on the one hand I think about how killing animals is so cruel and on the other hand enjoy many meals where these very same animals are well, the main ingredient.

Since the only non-vegetarian food I eat is chicken and seafood, in my defense I say well chickens are sort of bred for slaughter (I know. I am Cruella De Vil's evil twin) and anything that swims ought to swim faster if it doesn't want to be eaten by me.

Whereas my sister truly believes that she has become a complete vegetarian even when her mouth is watering while watching the Masterchef contestants barbecuing meat.

These days she reminds me of Alex, the lion from Madagascar who's hunting and meat craving nature begins to show when sent out into the wild. I am a bit worried.

I on the other hand stopped eating goats and animals larger than goats when I was a child. *

My explanation: It makes me feel like I'm eating a pet.

My explanation according to my family: Goats walk on the road. So I don't eat them.

Well, I was a weird little child so it's not completely unbelievable that I said that.

And who knows, maybe I told myself chickens walked on clouds.

* Except when it's circular and rhymes with Palami.**

**Palami is a made up word.

La la la la la

I was woken up this morning by my dear sister to confirm and fully understand the lyrics of a Bollywood item number while I was in pirate mode.*

My sister, Aku loves to sing and dance at any time of the day. She could be eating breakfast, watching TV or even at work and is completely oblivious to whatever's happening around her while she's performing.

She has done such things like pirouette into a room singing a tacky deodorant jingle.

But today she decided to wake me up to ask me why Katrina Kaif sings:

Aayi Chikni chameli

Something some-eli

Kawwa chadha ke aayi.

So that's what she's been singing for the past few months.

And all of a sudden today she decided to ask me why gyrating Katrina helped a crow climb up - which is what I'm guessing Kawwa chadha ke aayi means.

I burst out laughing and then this is how our conversation went:

Me: It's not Kawwa. It's Mahua.

Aku: Isn't Mahua a flower?

Me (with a lot of confidence): No silly, it's a honey flavoured alcohol (whatever that is).

Aku: Oh ok.

Me: How does Kawwa chadha ke aayi make any sense? Especially when she's making a drinking action.

Shes actually singing Pawwa (quarter) chadha ke aayi.

Clearly my Hindi isn't very good.

And neither are my listening skills.

After all I am known to sing my own lyrics all the time.

In the past I have confidently sung:

Don't Cry for me Argentina.

The truth is I never loved (left) you.

Then there were times when I was channeling my inner Columbus and sang:

I believe I've found America (a miracle) in you.

And then ofcourse there was Alane.
Here I just sang some crap through the entire song.

I'm sure Madonna, Michael Learns to Rock and Wes wouldn't be too happy about that.
I think i should just stick to singing la la la la la when I don't know the words.

* Every morning for about an hour after I wake up I only open one eye at a time because both eyes is just too hard. I check my emails and read the enwspaper in this half awake-half asleep state that makes me resemble a pirate.

Looks Do Matter

For some reason I always thought of The Times of India to be a serious newspaper.

And then I read this article and I didn't know whether to feel happy about next year or wonder how many people waste their lives doing such pointless surveys.

The Times of India, 25 July 2012
[Click here for the full article]

Will I feel sexiest next year?

Or is it just rubbish used to fill in newspaper pages and give hope to girls nearing their 30s?

Will I go back to regular girl mode at 29?

I don't see much changing in my life by next year.

I'll most probably turn vegetarian (besides when I eat Chinese food ofcourse. I can't ever see myself ordering a Paneer Manchurian unfortunately).

But I couldn't help but wonder who (in London) actually seriously sat down and wrote this article like it was information that people needed to have.

Whoever you are, thanks for making me laugh. It was a fun read!

The best part is the last paragraph which talks about the most inspiring female figures being:

1. Kate Middleton

2. Florence Nightingale

3. Marilyn Monroe

in that order.

What kind of a weird group of girls did they find for this survey?

For the moral of this story read the caption under the photo.

Informer

Do you remember this song from the 90s called Informer?
It was the shizzle when I was 7.
I heard it in my dance class and obviously sang along very confidently.

And then recently I heard it again and almost sang along and then stopped myself and said Whaaaat?
What was I singing?
It was some sort of gibberish I was singing with a Jamaican accent for some reason besides the part that goes

Listen to me ya better listen for me now

Listen to me ya better listen for me now

And I even had a cool shoulder move to go with it.
It was awesome!

Was I the only one?

All these years I assumed I was making up lyrics because I was singing in another language.
And then I realised that it was a Canadian white guy singing in English.

Stam

The big icecream on the road, Tel Aviv

Do you want to go 2theloo in Tel aviv

Cute old lady playing weird music near the Dizengoff center, Tel aviv

Entry fee for the Art Museum - A good time to be a soldier. Not a good time to be an adult.

Tinkerbell/ The absinthe fairy/ a crazy girl in a green costume in Tel Aviv shuk.

What I thought was the best juice in Tel Aviv on Ben Yehuda. (the oscar was misleading)

And then I met the Juice Doctor. If only I could have juice shipped to me everyday.

Burger Loyalty in Bat Yam. If only people would learn something from this.

Vintage Guitar shop, Tel Aviv

Scary childrens Giant Octopus play area, Bat Yam.

A pet store or just a store with a dog on it, Tel aviv

Where all roads lead to a hummus place

1. Hummus 2. The road near the hummus place 3. The blue sea in bat yam 4. Wine tasting in Golan Heights 6. Wedding in Tel Aviv 7. Kinneret/ Sea of Galilee 8. Army cars 9. Happy Neha early in the morning 10. Near the Western Wall, Jerusalem 11. View of the Old City, Jerusalem 12. Me in Bethlehem 13. Divine Light, Bethlehem 14. Modern art, Jerusalem 15. A young Jewish boy, Jerusalem 16. Lotus pond, Tel Aviv 17. The Double cross, Bethlehem 18. Picnic in Kinneret 19. tree sketch by me, Bat yam 20. Somewhere between Golan heights and Kinneret.

Rainy Sunday

I woke up this morning to a whole lot of rain.
And I'm not really a fan.
It's just made my lazy Sunday a lot lazier.
It made me miss getting pancakes for breakfast at a restaurant near my house.
The waiter even asked my sister where I was.

But I couldn't stop thinking about those perfect pancakes with the fruit compote.
The thought of good food makes me happy on a rainy day.
Or any day.

I've just finished watching Season 1 of Junior MasterChef Australia.
I'd watch 8-12 year olds cook some amazing food every night.
They knew how to temper, poach, blanch, make a consommé or even a coulis.
Some of them had started cooking at the age of 3!
Is that even possible?
I think I was still going through my phase of wanting to be a fisherwoman back then.

But, watching the junior masterchefs at work almost seemed unreal.
It made me hungry. It made me jealous.

And it made me wonder, what was I doing from age 8-12?
Well, I was in love with Doogie Howser M.D.
And thought that I too would become a doctor like him by the age of 16.

Incase you're wondering, that did not happen.
And I still can't cook.

But I hope to someday.
Better late than never!

It's a kind of Magic

I've always been enamoured by magic. 

I grew up watching David Copperfield on TV and always wished someone would teach me some cool tricks.

I wouldn't have even minded being the assistant who smiles and waves and gets cut up into pieces.

But, as a child, all I could do was one card trick which I was taught to do by my grandfather.

And that wasn't enough to put on a show.

I've watched a bit of Criss Angel Mindfreak. 

You'd think he'd be smart enough to come up with something better than Mindfreak.

But he isn't.

If I was a cool magician I would've thought of a better name.

Like Neha Kamath Magic Woman.

Ok that's lame too.

But, then again I don't have my own show so I don't need to be giving that any more thought.

I've always wanted to watch a magician Live.

About 8 years ago, I watched David Blaine sit in a suspended glass box near London's Tower Bridge. He starved himself for 44 days.

Was that magic? I don't know.

Then a few years ago, I went for a show by P.C. Sorcar and sat in the auditorium among many children.

He is the only Indian magician I can think of.

And when I saw the ad about his show in the newspaper, I dragged my mother and sister and went to watch the show with a lot of enthusiasm.

Unfortunately his most exciting tricks were the usual cutting a woman into many pieces and what he called Water of India - a jug with a neverending supply of water which he keeps pouring out of through the entire show.

I had read about how he had made an elephant disappear and was looking forward to watching something like that happening before my eyes and so I left the show slightly disappointed.

And then my sister burst my already small bubble of excitement by explaining each magic trick to me.

I don't know how I was stupid enough to miss it but someone was actually re-filling the Water of India jug behind the curtain.

Hmph.

A few years went by and I watched movies like The Prestige and The Illusionist and my expectations were skyrocketing.

Still waiting for that perfect show.

And then today I heard Cyril Takayama was going to be performing 5 minutes away from my house and I made sure I was there.
All he did was stand mid-air on nothing and the only support he had was an AXN banner on a street light that he had one hand up against.
And the whole time I was wondering what he'd do if a crow pooped on him.
Luckily for Cyril Murphy's Law was taking the day off.

He seemed quite pleasant and pretended to like the Indian people who made anything but a good crowd.
I stood there not far from where he was for about an hour in amazement.

And then my sister came along and made me believe that his hand was fake and he was held together by some sort of device that attached his torso to the fake arm which he covered up with a jacket.

I tried to ignore it.

Then I thought to myself that even though summer may be over in Bombay, on a hot day like today why would anyone wear a jacket? What was Cyril trying to hide?

And then I chose to ignore it.

I like the idea of magic.
Any kind of magic.
The mystery in the unknown and unexplainable makes life just a little more interesting.
Don't you think?

And as Roald Dahl said,

Those who don't believe in magic, will never find it.

One with Nature

I love saying age is only a number to try and make myself feel better.

But, after having turned a year older recently, I have realised that it isn't so.

Working at the computer for long hours resulted in many aches and pains.

And then for a day I behaved like a crazy hypochondriac.

> I didn't use my paraben-full shampoo.

> Almost used a toothpaste without flouride.

> And looked for affirmations for fear (according to Louise Hay that's the cause of knee pain).

Then I calmed myself down and floated back to planet Earth and simply asked my doctor for a simpler solution.

He just said I just need some sun.

*The Vitamin D from the sun helps your bones absorb the Calcium.

Blah blah blah.

I live in Bombay where noone actually sunbathes out in the open.

So now my balcony is my oven.

And I'm getting roasted.

30 minutes on each side till I'm well done.

Now can I say I am one with nature?

As simple as that

via

Have a great weekend!