Just got surprised (was debating between surprised and shocked actually). There’s so much more to a person other than what is apparent at first. Have made this mistake of badly judging people so many times.. You really need to be a part of the crowd to understand what’s happening.

Anyway, coming to a more not-confused line of thought..Am finally going outside Hyderabad after 3 months though for less than 4 weeks..have to come back and face the next semester! And the images of this place I’ll carry in mind will of the shutters closed down, our getting really close to stopping in the middle of the road due to an empty fuel tank while a petrol station is closed right in front of us. I do not claim to know what ‘really’ is happening here. Whether the leaders at the helm of  this Telangana movement are really sincere (though in my mind they are not, being the cynic I am), and why exactly do they even want a separate state. Am woefully ignorant. And the worst part is that I don’t even know the views of any person about this issue.

I hated Hyderabad when we used to come here to visit our relatives and thankfully the visits stopped and the memories almost died. When I next came here, it was a revelation of sorts. This time I came here on my own accord, my own wish. To  join NALSAR. And not surprisingly I like the city more than the college itself. In short it is the only city other than Delhi I’m going to live in with any degree of permanence. And the fact that I don’t know anything about what’s wrong here just makes me aware of how ignorant I am about things happening in the world outside my own. I am just living in this small bubble of mine where there are no issues other than my problems. Well the bubble burst..and I now know that why they say ignorance is bliss.

I hate the young man who stands till late in the night with his small stall selling curries in his ‘CURRY POINT- pure veg.’

I hate the man in the tailor shop who earns Rs. 50 a day for back-breaking work without any respite.

I hate the countless other men and women in this world who are struggling everyday- for what may I ask?

And most of all I hate myself who would have had the same fate but luckily was born to parents who could give her a good life. But the scariest part is that I am not sure whether I’ll be able to do even as much as the people I hate do. I hate their guts. It reminds me of my own fears.


autowali can’t say no!

Have not thought of anything particular to write about.  Spent  a whole Sunday being polite. Just couldn’t say no specially since the person was going finally but it was still a boring day.

Why is it that if you are not on particularly friendly terms you have to be politically correct and have to really think how you will phrase your ‘no’. A few days back I wasn’t feeling upto thinking so hard on a person whom I didn’t even know and was asking for monay from the whole of Hyderabad because he and his mates were disabled and couldn’t find a job. Usually I’ll be really cold hearted and say ‘sorry not interested’ (as if they were interested whether we were interested or not!) or will make some excuse “sorry parents not at home, don’t know where the cash is and am low on dough myself (could you share???) which is sometimes true.

But this time was in a weird frame of mind and just paid up for a cause I don’t believe in and with money that wasn’t mine and for people I don’t give a damn about. Just couldn’t say ‘no’…

And today when I’m all excited about going out of the city after so long and seeing my mom and sisters and feeling bad because papa isn’t coming with me right now, and would rather be packing am stuck reading long and boring judgements and getting really frustrated. And all because I don’t know how to say ‘no’.

But you know what? If my mom and sisters read this they are going to say ‘oh my god, how this girl lies!! ‘ You know they actually call me the ‘autowali’ (referring to the autowallahs of Delhi who say no and just don’t go to the place where you want to go and especially when you are in a hurry to get saved from mummy’s wrath).

Well my dears now you know, if you want me to pay up, or do your work or accompany you somewhere painfully boring just don’t get all paly paly with me if you are lucky enough not to be in my family!!

The 90s kids!

I wasn’t there when Rajiv Gandhi died, I didn’t even hear the news..I wasn’t born yet you see. I didn’t understand what was happening to our economy when finally I did enter this world..I was too young. When I started understanding stuff other than Shaktimaan, TV and the net were already there..a given. I don’t remember a time when McDonalds’ was not there (though I got to eat there after years of just passing by it). And seriously 100 bucks doesn’t seem a lot to me (well now after coming to college and wanting to eat out daily, it does).

What I’m trying to say is that my generation we take everything for granted because it was already there..We don’t know of the time when only a selected few had TV,computer and a car. It’s weird because I’m so totally dependent on these things for preserving my sanity when no one is at home or when I’m away at college. Cell phones have become a necessity..I do not say that it is a bad thing but my mom and dad both spoke a lot about how it was when they were kids and it seems like they used to live in the middle ages and not in the same cities as we do now…I don’t know why but I feel that knowing how it was IS important. And many parents forget to tell their kids this..Not knowing the value of stuff which you have got without any merit on your part is really something we should think about. And also knowing how to live without these things..and don’t know why Maggi comes to my mind.After a gap of many months I felt like eating it again..but it really surprises me how my classmates crave for Maggi in the hostel.Our tuck shop among the chocolates and biscuits keeps Maggi specially.Kids bring kettles and pans and even a cooker just for making Maggi. In school we’d gone to Dalhousie for a short trip of just 4 days. Even there there were kids who got Maggi and paid the hotel cook to make it for them. And the worst in Mocha in Delhi you get Maggi for 90 bucks. No, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that my friend and I paid it!

a new project

This is not the first time I’m blogging. Have tried earlier and discarded when I realized I couldn’ t write as freely as when I used to write a personal diary. But then I did want to write one. So came back to it!

Firstly, I think I should explain the blog name. It is not about tea..The name is just inspired by the Taaza tea ad which shows women (why not men) drinking tea and realizing their ‘hunar’ in something. Well I don’t have any great ‘hunar’ as such. It’s just the thinking with the tea part which I like. And yeah, I couldn’t really think of another one..at one point I was about to name my blog “sorry, this blog already exists”….So much for my ‘imagination’!!   Plus I’m in love with tea..have to have at least one cup a day to survive..and two to survive happily!

And you know tea drinking brings a very idyllic picture in my mind..A little cottage with snow all around and then drinking tea on the porch and warming your hands with the hot cup! That must be nice!

And now since what I’m thinking is too senseless to write down, even in a personal diary which no one should ‘ideally’ read..So will say “ciao”.