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Showing posts from September, 2013

S for shopping, Z for me.

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The sun scorches as we decide to shop. 'Sale' was the word that prompted us. First there was the sms from 'Beech tree', of 50 % sale on all stock, and then 'Khaadi'. So here was the plan. I shall drive. And I did. On reaching near Tariq road, my brother sitting next to me ordered, "Stop the car on the side". I did'nt stop. Brother Arif fumed. And he fumes real bad. I stopped. He drove. And smiled. I smiled. It was fake. Dolmen mall reached, and so did the hunger pangs. After three elevators up, came the food court. Aunties stopped midway when they saw my lovely running shoes. A few almost tripped. I walked with my head high, as the running shoes added an inch to my height. The food court added plenty of fat to our arteries. First stop was Beech tree. Nice. Got a few dressesNext stop, Khaadi. Sale on one rack of stitched clothes only.What a waste of energy. But still the Aunties were goin crazy.

All in a day

I decide to make tea post lunch. Am in clinic by the way. Heat water. Put powder milk in cup. Throw in the tea bag. Add the water to the cup. Give the milk a good shake. I did all that all right. Few minutes later I dip the tea bag up and down. Dip dip. It continues to look like milk. All right. Here comes the spoiler. I had added green tea bag. Dip dip dip. My consultant leaves. I make the investigation slip as the patient looks at my pen. "You should also have an expensive pen like your consultant's", says the patient. I look up and smile. I continue to write. With my head bent down, I scratch my head for an intelligent and witty answer to that remark. I come up with none. Fifteen minutes down the consultation, the patient asks me, "Are you doctor _______ (mentions my male consultant's name)". I smile. Real wide. "No", is my intelligent and witty answer to this. The clinic goes on.

For my new fans

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My fan following has caught the number 133. That brings in a bit of pressure to write something. Something new, spicy, refreshing, something that touches the chords of each reader. But oh really. Minutes of meeting A sectional meeting is held. Somehow I am assigned to write the minutes. I scribble a few words here and there, thinking that my memory will help me later, as I write the detail. Coming back home, a day later, on a Saturday night, I google search, 'How to write minutes of a meeting'. I later tell my father that I google searched how to. He laughed his heart out, and said, "You should have google searched how to write seconds of a meeting". My synopsis is back They want me to make a million corrections, and on a few paragraphs, its written 'explain'. That in itself needs an explanation. In essentiality, I've to make the corrections and resubmit. In the ideal world, I should be upset. But I am not, as this is not the ideal world, and o