Reasons why Cris is still single

Disclaimer: Added later because a couple of cousins suggested that this post looks like a desperate plea for attention! Let me add in big block letters LIGHTER VEIN! It has absolutely no “hidden meanings” calling the attention of anyone to please propose to me! Please proceed to read only if you are in touch with your sense of humor!

Reasons why Cris is still single. Because she:

1. Acts like a joker most of the time, never a serious moment recorded in her life. Men seem to prefer serious women as life partners, not jokers, rotten studies say.

2. Presents a paper to the occasional culprit who crosses the can-bear-joker stage, the reasons why he shouldn’t proceed. She didn’t realize men take these papers quite seriously.

3. Has been cited to display incredible talent to be a ‘pal’, a male-like companion

4. Gives out a very strong anti-marriage, anti-romantic image that puts all males 10 miles away.

5. Is older than most single men she meets and old woman-young man rule, though stylish, has few followers in Kerala. Neither found a place in Cris’s old fashioned mind. Maybe time to rebuild mind with new fashion.

6. Many more, but decided not to plunge into depression on a lovely Sunday, which has already given enough pain in the tummy! (that’s another story we are not going to talk about).

Do or dare – Rathinirvedam

Never in my life shall I think that something daring would add another laurel to your crown, or earn a pat on your shoulder. What it does is earn a big red face and a redder demeanor.

When colleague K called me to accompany her for Rathinirvedam I didn’t think much of it. She is our film journo and had to do a story on release day. Went along, a little sad at having to miss lunch (have become gigantic eater since touching Ernakulam. Suspect Ekm soil is made of hunger-trigger material to fatten poor outsiders).

Sensed trouble on nearing cinema hall when guys saw our rickshaw and started shouting “Chechi no more tickets” and laughed aloud. Oh oh. Stepping into the cinema hall was like walking on fire! Good gracious all eyes were on us. Not a single woman, no girls. All men, men, men! We entered like aliens and sat like zombies. I tried to pretend I had to attend a call and couldn’t see all the people staring at us. K tried to bury herself in her seat and look invisible. My seat – it was one of my lucky days – happened to be a little raised, making sure everyone saw my head, tall and high, right in the front.

I tried to dissolve into one side of my seat, away from all of human race. A little later, two older women entered the hall and the whole crowd was acting so excited. They were booing and yelling at the top of their voice. Oh my! I wished I could meet Jerry and borrow that invisible lotion he uses to trick Tom.

Two hours of this. And then the end credits roll. I look at K, K looks at me. There is the ordeal of getting out – which would include standing up on two legs and announcing pretty loudly our visibility. We tried to duck into our seats till they all left. But the security guard shouted “Hey get out, don’t create a block by sitting there”. He did that on purpose, like holding a torch against our faces and uncovering our anonymity. Men who passed us made loud n snide remarks on the movie. For us to hear. Addressed to us.

And as we walk out pasting brave expressions on our faces (mine meant suppressing the silly grin that would break open every few seconds) we see to our horror, some media cameras shooting the happy audience. Oh crap there goes my brave front. Am sure the grin is completely out now. And to worsen it, a horrid little man jumps at us with his mic and asks us how the movie was. K, the braver of the two, replies that we are also from the press. We hurry out to the streets to be greeted by passers by with a scowl or smirk.

No Siree, no more dares for moi. Not in this life, not in the next!

Cris Cracks – 7

Day would have been rather mechanical had not kidder boss M decided to kid around. Was busy getting last-minute quotes for a story well past its deadline. A psychologist was next in cue – to get a quote from, that is. Since still new in Kochi, asked boss for a contact. He types a number and calls it his personal psychologist – ‘the one who treats me’. Believes it for of course – a little unstable on the head has to be a pretty common affair among those higher up the ladder. Dials happily.

“Hello, Dr S?”

“No… (probably saw the phone number) who is this?”

“This is from DC newspaper, Kochi (tiny bells start ringing in head. What did the boss say about it being a resident doctor… oh oh)”

“I see, I am M’s wife”

“Oh….”

Silence

“Ohh…. Ohhh… ohhhhhhhhh! Sorry ma-ma maaam. Hehe (why do all embarrassing talks end with hehe, as if it helps!)”

Cuts.

Still hangs on, feeling dumb.

Tells boss who breaks into laughter and apologizes, before passing on the news to other humor-deprived colleagues. Can’t help it, it was funny. Didn’t mind, for once being the source of a little entertainment on a lazy Sunday in office.

 

 

Hunger vibes

Something about my life in Kochi has triggered my hunger buds full swing. I get hungry at the mention of anything edible and jump at the mere sight of a cup of coffee we get at the office everyday. And these days I hear this line a lot : ithonnum dehathu kaananillallo (it doesn’t seem to affect your physique). I cannot afford to be over-cheerful at the prospect of eating all and not gaining. Cause very, very secretly I do gain. They think I choose the loose funny looking clothes cause I have no dress sense. I was born to be the ‘diva’ of fashion (gotta google what exactly a diva is, sounds nice). But these clothes let you hide all your extra bits very smartly. Plus it gives you the intellectual no-nonsense-journo look. Tee heee.

 

Late night blogging means I have once again touched Trivandrum mannu (but not daring to kiss it). Feeling superlatively happy. The Trivandrumness you get here, you will get nowhere else :D.