The after-effects of the Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

“In the beginning the Universe was created.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.”

Having spent a considerable amount of time debating on what I ought to tag as my favourite book, I feel that this task is too arduous in light of all the wonderful books this world has produced and have thus given up, completely. But I couldn't help how much I missed this book today :

Douglas Adams made my childhood nothing short of incredible and so, I simply HAD to write about it. Thank you, you wonderful, wonderful man. 

My 'please note' for the day: Considering the most modern book I've read (save for several works of non-fiction) is Harry Potter, I haven't been exposed to very many wonderful modern books that I could be bothered to read. (Although, I do intend on picking up a John Green at some point soon). I’m currently trying to get in my quota of classics and you’ll have to forgive me for giving Twilight and 50 shades a skip – but really, whether you forgive me or you don’t.. I'm good. But if you do have any other suggestions, gimme a shout? =)

Meanwhile? DON’T PANIC.

Who knew that two such harmless words strung together could do the exact opposite of the result they were so desirous of achieving? Now, this isn't to say that those words (that so warmly welcome you as you turn to the first page) aren't brilliant advice. They're just... plain weird. I mean, it's a book. What's the worst that could happen? 

But remember, you were warned. 

A roller coaster ride across the Universe narrated using the sort of wit only the British are blessed with, the Hitchhiker's Guide is the Ultimate Encyclopedia on your how to's and what not's of the Universe. 'Don't panic' says it all. This comprehensive guide comes free with your local crazy alien and a man named after a car. With this, we throw in a depressed robot, ABSOLUTELY FREE on your already free goods. Offer lasts as long as your house is being demolished. 

The Guide poses remarkable metaphors to everyday situations and in its satire delivers some fairly profound ideas that are applicable to countless real life situations. I think that's why I enjoyed it so much. But I’m not here to elaborate on its story – that’s 6 books – ain’t nobody got time fo dat! Notwithstanding, it is a must read. So, if you haven’t read it yet – get to it! Meanwhile, I’m just here to trespass your facebook homepage with my musings on this book and the after effects of having read it. So, here goes:

1.  There is a number that haunts me, and it isn’t 13. Is the question 7*6 or.. 6*7? Or maybe it’s 3*2*1*7? Or 40+10-8? TELL ME. TELL ME NOW.  WHAT’S THE QUESTION? Don't ever say that darn number in front of me. Ever.
2. When something is going horribly wrong, I mouth “Don’t Panic” to myself and continue unfazed. Thereby confusing everybody in my vicinity and ultimately receiving the desired results. Works every time. *like a BAUS*
3. When someone says, “We apologise for the inconvenience”, I follow it up with, “That’s what He said.” The only way you're understanding why I capitalized that 'he' is if you've read the book. Stop guessing at it. Perverts. (Unless you think God is a woman - I'm sorry. Or if you don't believe in God - Oh poop, it's really hard to say anything nowadays without offending someone.. Oh, well)
4. There is perpetually a towel in my travel bag. You know, just in case?
5. I don’t trust people or things that're smarter than me (‘s why I don’t trust Apple Maps and didn’t get lost that time it was sending me to Manchester to eat a Sub – all whilst I was sitting in Nottingham a street from a Subway outlet). Ergo, I don’t trust dolphins. Although, they did do that ‘Save the Humans’ campaign.. Maybe they’re alright..? NO. DOLPHIN, NOOO.
6. I never let Vogons read poetry to me.
7. Do you whine too much? Your name is Marvin on my phone. Felt like it’s time I told you.
8. Hi. Are you named after a car? Yes? Alright. Then please call me and take me on space adventures? I’m ready with my towel.

Oh, Mr. Adams. 

“What if God was one of us?”

Read disclaimer at the bottom before you continue*

Do you think he’d wear denims? Think he'd buy them from your local Lee store at 50% discount? Do you think maybe he'd wear a plain coloured tshirt that stuck to his slightly protruding belly? And let birds rest on his head for a funny picture? Do you think he’d marvel at politics and dislike Pasta Bolognaise because it’s too bland? Do you think he’d have silver hair and listen to Eminem in his free time (because damn do Eminem speak da truth, ya hear?). Do you think he’s riding in the bus with you right now? Sitting next to you as your iPod plays out Joan Osborne’s song? Do you think he’s the guy standing in the corner with his finger in his nose? Or the woman in your office whose PMS is perpetually apparent? Do you ever think he might be reading this, just as you are? Right now? At this very moment?

The questions that got me thinking:

When I was a child, I was asked if I believe in a religion and a higher force. 

I clearly remember saying, “but they’re not the same”.  I believe that today as well. Religion feels like rules. Believing in a higher force feels like a way of living. I like rules, they're necessary but they ought to be malleable to what the occasion demands. So I like option two better. That makes it feel more like an adventure. 

“So this higher force.. Think it could manifest into a person?” 

“Yes. Yes, that is possible. Mythology tells us it can and I don’t believe anyone on Earth can be THAT creative with stories so there must be an element of truth to it.”

“Alright. Do you think that person could be here, right now, at this very instant, maybe talking to you?"
“Yes, that’s possible.” 

“Good. So, you’re okay with your God wearing jeans and a tshirt?” 

“HAHAHAH. Ofcourse I am! If he dressed like the people from the Mahabharath show we watch, I don’t think I’ll be able to take him seriously. I’d respect someone if they dressed simply but still looked elegant in what they wore. I’d listen to them if they had a smile on and playfully said, “dude” – just to come down to my level. My God has to be someone I can relate to.”

Think about it. What if this higher being in its splendid ways did decide to grace our presence dressed as one of us? Maybe wear a lungi on college ethnic day? Or a really smart journalist style kurti? Would you respect the word of someone who didn't look like the portraits carved on the walls of religious places? Would you recognize that being? And if you did? If you had just one thing you could say, what would you say?

But, what if God was really one of us, ya?

*Disclaimer: I don't usually write such articles and I do not wish, in any way, to impose my beliefs on anyone. I am not exactly religious but I enjoy having my beliefs. I am not making an effort to insult anybody’s idea or portrayal of God. To each his own, this is my opinion. Kindly disregard this blog if you are not fond of such discussions. And yes, God could be a woman too. I have a friend who says, “Naaa, God’s definitely a woman. Nobody does the kinda PMS that a super powerful woman can except one who’s exactly that.” The only reason I use “he” is because it’s convenient. Read it at your own risk. Now, if you still decide to read it despite what I have just said and your sentiments get hurt in any way, I do apologise. But I did warn you.

10 signs you're growing up (Oh God, why?)

1)      The headache that panadol and mummy’s kisses can’t cure, black tea with lemon can – Caffeine in any shape or form is your new best friend. Or if you’re allergic to caffeine like I am, decaf will do the trick. When did the milk drinker turn into a hard core bean addict (there’s something not very happy about your life if you’ve given up chocolate)? And “WHERE’S THE COASTER UNDER MY MUG?”

2)      You begin to appreciate home cooked food – You know you wanted pizza everyday of your life when you were a kid and hated Mom/Dad’s cooking unless it was your favourite “sooper special dish”. And now, you’re a lonely critter; cooking and cleaning for yourself. You probably have crazy hours and eat out a carton more often than you’d like to – so, admit it; you miss your Mummy ke haath ka khana. 

3)      Your parents go from inciting “ERMAGAWD waat r u doing” to being your “favourite people” – When your parent goes nuts trying to figure out how to use their smart phone – instead of snapping at them, you sit down and patiently explain to them how it works. You encourage them when they decide to tweet, or join facebook; maybe even convince them start a blog. When they run up to you at the airport and sweep you into their arms – you love that. You’re thinking about what that’ll feel like throughout your entire 12 hour flight. And her Diwali sweets?” OH MAN, I’M NOT SHARING MY FED-EXED DIWALI SWEETS WITH YOUUU.”

4)      You courteously nod at people as you walk past them. Hi-5’s just don’t seem acceptable anymore (unless you’re Mr. Stinson – I saida bang-bang-a-bangity-bang) – There are people at my work place whom I’ve barely ever spoken with and yet, every time they catch my eye, I nod at them with a slight smile. I never understood this gesture as a kid; can’t say I understand it even now but it just seems like the appropriate thing to do.. *smile and wave boys, just smile and wave*

5)      You finally understand what Sean Paul meant in Temperature – And it isn’t just that. You even begin to notice the sexual undertones your favourite children’s shows carried. Brutal was the day someone pointed out that Tom and Jerry were probably sadists. And ouch, right in the childhood.

6)      You actually listen when people talk about their children: The “you’re next” just seems like an acceptable (well, do you have a choice?) thing to say at weddings. Never once had I imagined I’d hear it from a boss, at my workplace. I was laughing at her (a little) for the hell she goes through with her kids during the vacations and she casually pointed out that I’m 20, had only a few more years of child-less freedom and was going to love the contractions. I feel a knot in my throat and denial kicking in. “Did someone say babies? And contractions? Homework? Calculus, AGAIN? OHI’MNOTLISTENINGANYMORE LALALALA.” And boys? She's having the contractions, you're holding her hand - enjoy.

7)      You’re suddenly looking for a stable relationship: Now, I don’t know what it is about turning twenty, but every single person in my vicinity who’s crossed that ‘threshold’ is looking for Mr/Miss FOREEVVAA. It’s a little disturbing, to be honest. These are people who wanted to remain single, forever (and boys have cooooootieeeeeeeeeeeezzzz, ewwww).

8)      You go from “I’m going to buy a diamond bracelet/camera/mad-motorcycle with my first salary” to “I’m going to pay rent, some of my loan, put aside money to invest in a house and buy my parents dinner” – And I don’t even need to delve into that one ‘cause that cheque probably hits your account soon.

9)      Nutrition bars are your indulgent food: No, you know what I mean. Go ahead, pull out that maple syrup bar and give it a bite.. You’ve been waiting all morning to put that on your calorie counter.

10)    Yes, you calorie count: You have at least one app on your phone for fitness and it’s probably a calorie counter. And even if you don't anymore, you did at some point. 

5 out of 10? Hello and welcome to your twenties.
Now, excuse me while I go comment on this girl’s diet on Fitness First. Like, who eats an entire chocolate bar for dinner?

"What happened at the airport?"

I spoke to a friend on returning from the airport the other day. I had gone to receive my sister who'd taken a short trip away. This friend caught me smiling like an idiot. She quite promptly gave me a sly smile and said, “So, what happened at the airport?” “Not sure”  (My smile widened). I had one of those ear-to-ear smiles on my face and if you know me, you know that it tends to look like I’ve either consumed too much sugar or injected myself with something (No Ma, you know I don’t do that stuff.). “Liar! Look at your face!”

“No really, I’m not sure…”

I’m incredibly over worked at the current moment and unreliably moody. The only time I’d smiled in the last week was when a child in the MRT had beamed at me to reveal 2 fallen teeth and I hadn’t had the heart to not reciprocate. My mood was considerably light for the rest of the evening and nearly everybody who spoke to me that day asked me the same question, “What happened at the airport?”

But I wasn’t sure. It wasn't exactly..specific.

I couldn’t tell whether it was the fact that my sister had returned after ten days away, only to be greeted by my smiling face. And how I’d nearly dropped the paper bag containing banana cake (I never pick someone up empty-handed. What if they’re hungry?)in my excitement to see her. Or whether it had been the beautiful South American man who had caught my eye and given me the widest smile? (If anyone knows him – tall, tanned with curly hair, presently in this city - give him my phone number? Much appreciated. =P)

Neither was I sure that it wasn’t the consoling pats the hotel chauffeurs were giving each other when their guests’ flight flashed delayed on the information board. Nor the family of ten that burst into applause as their baby girl walked through the airport door – her ‘Murican University hoodie swinging merrily around her waist as she made her way over to them.

Maybe it was the little boy who ran into the arrival lounge (setting off the security alarm) excitedly because he’d spotted his Dad hauling his luggage off the conveyor belt. Or maybe the aged security guard who bemusedly evicted a couple who were probably only meeting in transit and how he relocated them to a less crowded area of the airport, just so they could have a few moments of privacy.

It might have been the tall, reserved gentleman who held flowers behind his back in anticipation of his beloved walking through the sliding doors – any second now. Or maybe the delicately wrinkled Grandmother who was sobbing out of sheer joy as she received her new-born grandchild?

“What happened at the airport?” "I'm not sure. I’m just thinking about the moment I arrive at the airport in Bangalore; maybe I’ll break into a run when I see Mom’s smiling face and slip into her open arms, always waiting to welcome me.”

“Oh, come on, what REALLY happened?”

That, just that.