My Six Points

I had been thinking about updating my blog and I even have something in mind I want to write about, but I'm in one of those extremely bored and uninspired phases of my life when it seems like I've lost the ability - and the will, even more - to take up my pen and write something new. So I'll keep that other post for later and do a tag by Rohit first. Compliments to the guy, by the way, for having made so many people (many of them semi-dormant slash lately-turned-quiet) update their blogs with this tag, including me. Everyone must hate ugly women wallpapers.

Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself. Tag six random people and let them know they've been tagged.

1. I'm one of those compulsive desktop-refreshers. If I've closed all other windows and am left facing my desktop, you know what I'm doing. As long as I see it, I have to do it. I know it's bugging for some people to be witness to that, but judging by the number I've passed on the affliction to, it's also extremely satisfying to be doing it yourself. Jay mentioned selecting and de-selecting text while reading it - yes, another fun thing to do.

2. I realized recently while turning out a drawer that I'm quite a collector of bookmarks. Apart from tons of Crossword ones (beautiful bookmarks, another reason Crossword's my favourite), I've also got an Oriental gold-plated bookmark, a real silver (yeah!) one, a traditional Japanese painting-covered wooden one, a pretty handmade paper one from People Tree (T feeling generous) and a laminated one that someone made for me, among others.

3. I love Russian names and sometimes I'm Masha Leonsky (St. Petersburg).

4. The TV/music player volume always needs to be an even number, otherwise it itches.

5. My memory absolutely sucks. I've actually lost a coat in the past one week because I gave it to someone in college telling them to keep it in the comp lab, and now I can't remember who that was and the coat's definitely not in the comp lab.

6. I'm a nutcase formatting-lover. I'd rather miss a deadline than submit a badly-formatted assignment.

So that's that. I would've cursed some people with a tag but as it happens, all the regular bloggers I know have been bagged by others who've done this tag before me. Did I mention in those six points that I'm always, always late for everything?

Shoot

Been a long while since I was here. Been travelling lots, and since winters are hiberanation time, also been sleeping lots. I was thinking I'll make a post about some of the more interesting parts of my travel, but I'm feeling lazy so I'm making another post instead.

Jayant put up this tag and it looks interesting. Let's see how enthusiastically people respond to it.

You can ask me 3 questions. Any three, no matter how personal or random. I have to answer them honestly. And you've just got to trust that I will answer honestly. (Note: If the question is too personal or whatever, I don't have to post the answers up here. The asker of the question, however, will get an honest reply in private). And I have to know who I'm taking those questions from, so, no anonymous questions!

In return, you have to post this message in your own blog and you have to answer the questions that people ask you.

Okay, people, shoot.

Oh and a happy new year to everyone :-)

In Memoriam

How much math is too much math for your sanity? Or, for that matter, for the erstwhile conviction in your "Well I do have a life, how dare you suggest otherwise" rebuttals to smirking non-Econ friends? Or, most saddeningly, for the sense of humour you used to possess once upon a glorious time?

Not too much, I've concluded, on the basis of my own ruin witnessed over the last couple of months. Consider this gem from yours ex-funnily from the evening before an utterly yucky math exam.

Random comment:
"I like the name Anya."
Contemplative addition to above comment:
"Imagine a woman named Anya naming her daughter Ananya."
Math exam induced nerdy calculative addition to above comment:
"Oh, what fun if successive generations of women in a family decide to take the nomenclature ritual forward such that the nth woman in the family is named 'An(an)^(n-1)ya' - that is, Anya, Ananya, Anananya... up to infinity."
And all math-feverish nerds present collapse into peals of manic laughter. Which, by the way, is the scary part, not that (sad excuse for a) 'joke'.

Maybe it's the fact that we're being set a horribly wrong example by our professors who, on account of being associated with math too long themselves, have now descended to abysmal levels of conversation. Like when Prof 2 (Math) exceeds his lecture time by a good twenty minutes, Prof 1 (Macro) who had announced his course to be over but has now turned up for his lecture and been waiting long enough, decides to walk in and have a nice heated argument-fight with him. Er, at least that's what you hope for. But nope, no luck.

Prof 1: So does the transversality condition of this class getting over tend to infinity?
Prof 2: But I thought Macro was a finite horizon problem ending at time T.
Prof 1: Well, no. It actually ends at T+1. *smirk*
With which brilliantly powerful punch Prof 1 wraps up the scintillating fight and gets to take his lecture. And we, M.A.-zombiefied already, flash wide appreciative grins.

But the realization didn't really hit until one day I came across this video and found it insanely funny enough to burst out laughing at quite a few places. Check out the lyrics of this song by a bunch of math nerds, and please tell me you appreciate the humour too. Tell me you do.

And if you don't, then GOD, pleeease tell me some good jokes that'll get me laughing 'right' again.

Finite Simple Group (of Order Two)
A Klein Four original by M. Salomone

The path of love is never smooth
But mine's continuous for you
You're the upper bound in the chains of my heart
You're my Axiom of Choice, you know it's true

But lately our relation's not so well-defined
And I just can't function without you
I'll prove my proposition and I'm sure you'll find
We're a finite simple group of order two

I'm losing my identity
I'm getting tensor every day
And without loss of generality
I will assume that you feel the same way

Our equivalence was stable,
A principal love bundle sitting deep inside
But then you drove a wedge between our two-forms
Now everything is so complexified

I'm living in the kernel of a rank-one map
From my domain, its image looks so blue,
'Cause all I see are zeroes, it's a cruel trap
But we're a finite simple group of order two

I'm not the smoothest operator in my class,
But we're a mirror pair, me and you,
So let's apply forgetful functors to the past
And be a finite simple group, a finite simple group,
Let's be a finite simple group of order two

I've proved my proposition now, as you can see,
So let's both be associative and free
And by corollary, this shows you and I to be
Purely inseparable. Q. E. D.

**
PS: Similarly afflicted persons may find this amusing too. And for the 9/10ths who would not be interested, do scroll down to the comic strip.

Random thought

Just wondering. What physical feature(s) of yours do you think would be exaggerated if someone were to draw a caricature of you? And what distinctive traits/peculiarities would the caricature possess?

I think mine would be pretty tiny - close to a dot, if the artist were to be brutal. And continuing the brutality further, it might have a slightly upturned nose. And she would definitely be fond of capitalization of letters and punctuation marks. That's all I have off the top of my head.

Any additions? Any voluntary caricaturing?

Clearing Backlogs

The title is something I do often. More out of compulsion due to pressing deadlines, approaching exams, threats from friends rather than out of any conscientious urge to do justice to pending tasks. Getting lectures from over a month back xeroxed 'cause crap the exam's tomorrow, calling up pals after weeks and having several months' conversation, signing into my Google Reader and finally doing the pending updated-blogs round... you get the idea. And, of course, updating my blog, buckling under constant heckling from several unruly quarters. So, here it is.

The one thing I've noticed over the past few months (since I last made a post) is that in my life, things seem to change but they never really do. Never. Take, for instance, the fact that I'm finally a graduate and have moved on to bigger things in life – which sounds grand till you get to know the fact that these bigger things involve much the same things that I've been doing for the past three years. I'm still covering the 8-min walk from home to my insti in a hurried 5 mins (5 mins' walk in another direction from college days, though. Yay.), I'm still getting late for classes, I'm still hanging out at more or less the same places, and I'm still (dear god) giving exams after exams on quasi-convex consumer preferences and upward sloping supply graphs. And none of it kills as much as the walking part, when considered along with the fact that I have, for as long as I can remember, been fascinated with hostel/living alone life and wanted to live it. I have memories of school days of threatening folks at home with "moving out as soon as I enter college" vows. Then, these threats used to be met with mostly annoyed and sometimes dismayed (during bursts of overwhelming parental affection) glances. Now since the smart folks at home have figured out that I ain’t going anywhere yet, the tables have turned. My threats have turned into their taunts, flung at me conveniently in moments of agony over unlaundered clothes, not ready dinners and the like.
"Why aren't my jeans washed yet?? It's been a week!"
"Move out and wash your clothes yourself."
"Arre, how do the two even connect?!"
"Move out and figure it out doing your laundry". (smirk, smirk)

Then take the fact that I've turned 21. Only, much like Richa and Sayantani, I don't feel it at all. Turning 21 was just like the other age milestones I've passed so far – approached with a mild feeling of anticipation and crossed with a sense of "Big deal!" disinterest. Added to the lack of feeling 21 is the lack of being able to act 21. I realized this within the first week of my M.A. when I behaved in a manner that I can, in retrospect and after much analysis, only attribute to my discomfiture in public situations involving served food. The occasion was some Orientation session after which food and drinks (fancy way of saying spring rolls and Coke) were being served on the terrace. After waiting & getting elbowed around in the crowd for a while, I concluded I wasn't getting any this way and decided to ask my friend standing right in front of me to pass me a plate. Instead of doing the normal thing and using the much evolved tools of communication humankind uses these days, I decided to go primitive. Steeled my index finger and poked her in the ribs four times. The worst part wasn't the realization that the victim couldn't even step aside to fend off the attack because it was so crowded. It was not even the fact that the victim, when she turned around all screaming, didn't turn out to be my friend after all, but some absolute stranger; OR the irony of the fact that this is not how I usually call the attention of my friends but that day, I just had to. The worst part was how I chose to make a dignified exit from the embarrassing situation – disappear into the crowd, lunge towards the spring rolls section, spill my Coke all over the spring roll plates, decide on another dignified exit and disappear into the crowd again making away with someone else's Coke kept on the table. Looking around later at people grimacing over soggy spring rolls brought back another embarrassing childhood incident of the public-serving-of-food variety. The kind of incident you remember not by memory but by narrations repeated a million times by your mischievous mother making eyes over her tea cup (every single time you're having tea together) and saying: "Bhatia uncle ke ghar… yaad hai na?!" The incident referred to involves a six year old me at my dad's colleague's house, tea being served and those cheapest of all but lovely Parle G biscuits. As soon as I bit into one, I realized I had never tasted anything better, upon which realization I proceeded to empty the plate of biscuits by dipping each into my cup of tea, waiting till it became just the right extent of soggy (when it's almost drooping off), pushing it into my mouth and taking care to fish out any remains of the biscuit by dipping my probing finger into the tea, scraping soggy bits off the cup bottom and licking my finger clean. After every biscuit. Around that time, you must know, I was in that phase when random aunties you meet comment on your extreme thinness in a dissatisfied manner to your annoyed mom. My six year old brain must've made some sort of connection, so when I started getting The Warning Glares from my folks, I displayed astounding diagnostic powers for a 6-year old and remarked calmly: “Agar aise biscuit mujhe ghar pe khane ko milte toh main itni patli nahi hoti”. I don't remember how Bhatia uncle or family reacted (must've laughed it off, of course), or indeed my parents; all I remember is that once the cheery round of goodbyes was done with and we'd taken off on our bike, as soon as we took the first left turn my dad stopped the bike, turned around and voice quivering with restrained anger, asked: "Hum tumhe biscuit nahi dilaate hain?"
What could I say; being served food in public places makes me do odd things. Still. At 21.

And then the time, a few months back, when a cousin was getting married and my place was stacked with relatives from down south. Despite having resolved many times to learn Tamil from ma, my fluency hasn't much improved beyond the baby prattle level so I expected to finally make up for it. What I had not expected, however, was compromising on my gender thanks to that endearing Tamil habit of showering love on babies by affectionately calling them "it". Being the kid of the house, I was the chosen one to lose all semblance of gender identity for one long bleak month.
Concerned relative: "Has it eaten?"
Ma: "Not since morning."
CR: "Ayyo, paavam korundai*. Does it like apples, should I cut one?"
Ma (disdainfully): "It will eat anything as long as you cut it and shove it in its mouth."
I finally knew it was time for the relatives to go when I started exclaiming "ayyo" at the drop of pens and humming the theme song of the Sun TV 9:00pm show while folding my nana's sparkling white veshti freshly back from the wash. Of course, along with the relatives went all the progress I had made in learning the language over a month, but getting back the prized possession of one much missed gender in return was not such a bad deal, I reasoned.
Sometimes it's not all bad that things always return to status quo in my life.

[ * = Poor child. The ayyo cannot be translated.]

Meme

Another interesting tag. Another easy way to update my blog without actually writing anything new. Tagged by fellow bloggers Shikha and Jayant.


1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it?

The one on my right knee which I got when I was about ten. I was running away on some girl's cycle and the mean girl chased me, grabbed hold of the cycle and shook it till I fell down.

2. What is on the walls in your room?

Some posters I put up years ago... I don't even remember much what they look like! One's got a smiley face; another has three bears proclaiming the joys of friendship. A cool Buddha face mask. An abstract art picture I cut out of a calendar and got framed. And the current Indian (Airlines) calendar which is pretty nice.

3. What does your phone look like?

Silver and battered. The silver's coming off from all the careless dropping my cell's been subjected to. The screen has one big crack right across it. And there are pen marks all over, thanks to the blotty ball pens I keep in my pocket along with the cell.

4. What music do you listen to?

Any nice music. Love classic rock.

5. What is your current desktop picture?

A picture taken by Deeps, which I got off his photoblog. I did leave a comment asking if I could make it my wallpaper. Last I checked, he hadn't replied to it yet but... umm, I figured he wouldn't mind.
This is what it looks like:











6. What do you want more than anything right now?

Some clue as to where my life is headed.

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?

This would be similar to what Jay said: Apart from the cynicism reserved for the whole notion of holy matrimony, as far as someone’s right to get married is concerned, there can be no distinctions.

8. What time were you born?

8:30 pm, if I remember right :)

9. Are your parents still together?

Yes, happily so :)

10. What are you listening to?

'Light My Fire' by The Doors. Love them, love the song!!

11. The last person to make you cry?

Can't really remember. The last time I cried was watching a movie *embarrassed*... Well the cute puppy died!! His owner died too :(

12. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

Love anything musk.

13. Do you like pain killers?

Yes. They are very nice.

14. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

Oh yeah!

15. Favourite pizza topping?

Jalapenos!!

16. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

Pizza with loads of cheese and jalapenos!! (Now it’s stuck in my head)

17. Who was the last person you made mad?

Can't remember, but it has to be my mom. She must have gotten pissed at the mess in my room, or something I forgot to do even after being reminded a zillion times, or for absent-mindedly putting on my headphones while she was still talking to me.

18. Is anyone in love with you?

Oh, everyone I know.
[ "Oooh look there’s Amiya!" *trip* *splat* <= Ishani's description of the phenomenon. ]

The Making: Part IV

The Making of a Perfect Day: Part IV
In Which Plans Are Executed Successfully and
a Perfect Day Had By All

Would have been nice if I could begin with, "THE day dawned bright and cheerful", but it didn’t really. It started on a flustered, harried, behind-time note. V had to wait for me for half an hour on the road, in the horrible sun, while I was at home trying to make a stupid bleeding cut stop oozing out liquid. Ishani, meanwhile, was waiting for V to pick her up, which obligated him to come up with all sorts of stories to explain his absence from her doorstep at that very moment, and for many, many moments thereafter.

Anyway, things proceeded.
Cake – check
Gifts – check
Wrapping paper – check
Scissors & tape for wrapping – oops. Ask Harry to bring it along.

Well, college was reached and the task of wrapping everything – including items of weird unwrappable shapes (like a doll with a pin coming out of its eye) – was accomplished just in time before Jay & Ishani arrived. Everything stuffed safely into bags, we proceeded to the Scene of Discovery of Cake. Where our in-for-surprises friends showed how thick really they can be sometimes! (And thank god for that)

First we made the two leave Neha steps and shift to some other place so that V could place Ishani's cake at NS. And as soon as we reached that someplace else, everyone 'changed their minds' and herded Jay & Ish back to NS – with no suspicion aroused at our unusual activity & movement (we're generally reeeeeally lethargic and inertia-struck as a group). Thick!! And then Ishani just refused to cooperate, thanks to her too-proper manners that restrained her from being coerced into opening "someone else's box yaar". And when she finally sneaked a peek, she saw a cake with "girl" written on it and shut the box immediately – "Told you, someone else's cake. Leave it yaar!" Paaaaaaiiiinn!! But all this drama worked out well, because by the time Ish finally opened it, the only person missing – Tarun – had also arrived, just in time.

Well, finally she was almost forced into opening the box again, and this time she read the icing properly – "To the Dragon Girl".... and then there were squeals and hugs and kisses and much joy all around. (I'm lovin' this)

And then, after the cake was reduced to crumbs, Neha pulled Jay aside to "tell him something important". Cue for V to run back and fetch Jay's cake. Which took a little longer than expected, during which delay Neha was quickly improvising (and making up for having nothing really to say to Jayant) by repeating, "Wait, I'm preparing myself to tell you...." And then all of a sudden there began variously-toned renditions of Happy Birthday by the rest of us..... and Jay turned around all stunned..... and again there was much hugging and shouting and joy all around. Aah.

And then the leave-taking by some people, and then lunch (as has already been recounted by Ishani and Jayant). People returning. Gift giving. Again much hugging, laughing, happy faces all around. Sigh :)

And so ended the Perfect Day.

* * *

PS:
I didn't say 'perfect' just like that. It really was the perfect day. It was perfect because everything magically fell into place and problems worked out by themselves – nobody had to leave too early, nobody had to miss the cake-cutting after all, and nobody had to skip lunch cuz they had other plans. It was perfect because I was with people I love the most, and we were at our absolute happiest. Told you, perfect. I mean, what else would you call a day when, in spite of a million things that could go wrong, not even a single really did; and when, in spite of the million unbelievably amazing times spent together, your b'day friends tell you that this was their best day ever in college; and when, in spite of not laughing my guts out like I often do in college over silly things, I felt a quiet happiness somewhere deep inside me which made me sure that it was one of my happiest moments, EVER?

Told you, perfect :)

The Making: Part III

The Making a Perfect Day: Part III
In Which Intentions Are Concealed and Hurdles Faced

Problems cropped up at the last minute. They always do.

Jay came up with the bummer that he had some work to attend to, and couldn't stay for too long, maybe not even for lunch. V took on the responsibility of 'handling' him; I merely sent him a msg: "Aw crap, never mind, we'll make the most of the time you're there." (He had no idea how!) Meanwhile, V had set to work on Jay, giving him a million reasons to stay back and a couple of suggestions on how to work round things. . . all the while with the words "cake" and "gifts" etched at the back of his mind. I'm impressed he didn’t let anything slip, I suspect I might've crumbled and goofed up under such exacting circumstances :) He finally managed it, Jay changed his plans so that he could spend the whole day with us. Relief.

But there were other bummers. Richa couldn't stay for lunch, she had other plans. Tarun couldn't come for the cake ceremony; he had to finish off some work before coming to college. Neha wasn't sure exactly how long she could stay since her parents were coming to pick her up.

Sighhh, there probably is no such thing as a perfect plan.

The Making: Part II

The Making of a Perfect Day: Part II
In Which Plans Are Made and Memories Collected

Now began the planning, deciding the what, the when, the where. The date was decided – April 12, when everyone would come to collect their admit cards. The venue had to be Neha steps, our haunt of three years in college. There was something very appealing in this idea: this is a place which is so 'familiar' for us; where we invariably, inevitably settle down for a nice chat session before, after & sometimes during classes; whose familiarity we take so much for granted (if we’re strolling idly, it must end at Neha steps; if I’m looking for one of us in coll, I'll check first at NS & expect them to be sitting there). . . And for this ‘usual’ place to suddenly turn unexpected and spring upon us a surprise – the thought was very appealing for some reason.

Deciding and innovating upon the form of the surprise was fun. It was decided that after the admit card work is done, we'll all move towards NS and find something strange there – a box hidden innocuously under newspapers. The reluctant Ishani will be made to open it, for it shall be her b'day cake. Jay would be roped in for this portion of the surprise, what he was not to know was this: after Ishani's cake is devoured and Jay’s thinking that he’s been on the planners' side, we'll spring a cake on him too and take him by surprise. And later, when they're both basking in the joy of having received b'day surprises, and SO not expecting anything more, we’ll go for lunch and drop another bomb on them – the re-entry of people who had earlier had to leave, ostensibly due to some reason or the other. And they'll be carrying gifts that wouldn't be your usual books/music/movies. . . these would be carefully picked-out items with memories attached to them – some memories collected during the 3 years of college, others shared with friends during the freewheeling chat sessions at (where else?) Neha steps.

And now, just the details had to be worked out. Did I say 'just'? Wow, I had no idea how much work it would be! For starters, there were brainstorming sessions at Barista for two consecutive days. What gifts could we possibly give them? A notebook was taken out, a pen desperately looked for all inside our bags, a line drawn on the paper (Jay's column, and Ishani's) and minds were raced back.

Ishani had to be given something connected with chillis, she just can't stand them. How about those chilli earrings Kamla Nagar vendors were stocked with last year? And there just had to be some reference to Jay's eye-jabbing incident (read it here).... Ooh how does this sound: a doll with a pencil jabbed in its eye! (The enthusiastic approval that met the idea, I tell you. Gross, we are.) Oh, and the shades he wore in Goa, which we found quite funny. Oh oh, and that night when we had Breezers lined up for us but no opener, and Jay opened 'em all with his teeth. And remember when we were playing Killer (lights switched off, the 'killer' had to hit someone with a hanky-ball and try to remain undetected by the 'detective'). And Ishani, when nobody announced "I'm dead" after she threw her ball (cuz it hadn't actually hit anyone) cried out, "Arre koi toh bolo!" Haha, so Ishani!! Oh and the ring she & Ami stole from a Trade Fair stall – hmm, let's steal another ring from K Nagar and give it to her. (Again, such enthu approval. Amoral, we are.) Arre and a crepe bandage too, poor thing ends up twisting her joints so much. And a wallet, she looooves money. Oh oh oh AND. . . . (Vidur’s gem of an idea). . . . A murder kit for Jay! Yes! All the stuff he would need to commit (and more importantly, get away with) a murder. Gloves, hanky, knife, everything. Great! (Told ya, amoral).

So basically, a lot of thought went into making sure everything was thought out perfectly. No wonder we ended up doing too much (unnecessary) thinking. A sample:

Me (thoughtfully): Hm we can give Ishani some paneer, she loves it. But abhi paneer ka season toh hai na?
Harry and Vidur (spluttering in disbelief and laughing): Whaaaaa. . .? Hahaha!!

And then began a good one minute of incessant laughing on their part and puzzled wonderment on mine, at the end of which I finally adopted that old pretense of "getting it" and going "oh, stupid me!" and laughing along, all the while hoping that I would catch on some time. Of course, friends can make out when you're faking it, so Harry, considerate as she is, reminded me gently that paneer is a processed food and hence has no seasonal availability issues. Which I knew, I swear, it had just slipped my mind right then.

Anyway, once the brainstorming was done, it was time to scavenge for these things in the horrible, blistering afternoon. The sacrifices one has to make for friends. Some gifts weren't too hard to locate, most others were were totally elusive, I swear. Pff. The cheap 10-buck shades for Jay, for instance, made us chase quite a few gubbare-wallahs, only to be informed by one laughingly: "Goggles? Woh nahi rakhte, aajkal kaun leta hai woh?" Times have indeed changed. All I could remember was being 7, at shaadis, and noticing these fellow 7-year old guys strutting around all studly wearing their gubbare-wallah wale shades. A similar feeling at the toy shop, when Harry and I had this one particular kind of doll in mind (from our childhood) which just wasn't available, and I commented wistfully, "Hamare zamane mein toh wohi hoti thi." Couldn't find any chilli earrings, either. Apparently they're very "last season" and nobody stocks them anymore.

Anyway, our luck wasn't all that harsh. Walking past this bangles shop, Vidur (the observer) noticed a rack full of cheap local shades in all possible colours – just what we were looking for. My relief & joy must have shown in the way I hissed in suppressed exhilaration ("Yes! Yesss! Yessssssssss!!") since the shopkeeper, noticing my reaction, remarked smugly, "Haan, jo hi dekhta hai, aise hi khush ho jata hai." Okay!

Well, the rest of the gift hunting was quite uneventful. The 'memories' were spotted in shop windows, encountered at pavement stalls, located in knick-knack stores, flicked from under watchful eyes — and preciously collected. And we could hardly wait to share them the next day.

The Making of a Perfect Day: Part I

[ A disclaimer first: This is a super detailed account of a birthday surprise two friends received this last week. Being primarily for my college pals, it has the potential to seem too personal & unduly detailed to others. You’re welcome to read it, but if you start finding it a bit self-indulgent midway — remember, you had been warned!
Details of the entire plan are unfolded in four posts, the first of which begins right here.
A belated happy birthday to Ishani, and wishing a joyful one in advance to Jay. Love you guys :) ]

* * *

The Making of a Perfect Day: Part I
In Which Jokes Are Taken Seriously and Ideas Conceived

Ishani (calling from Mumbai): . . . And yeah, so what have you planned for my b'day han? Gimme a surprise party!
Me: Yeah, now that you're expecting one, we have to give you a b'day 'surprise'!
Ishani: Yes please, I promise I won't 'expect' it!

* * *

Later, a text msg starts doing the rounds.
"Hey. Listen, can we do something special for Ishani and Jayant's bday? Some surprise?"

* * *

And that's how it all began.