Finally….

After some pondering, I have decided to move to BlogSpot.

I’m still in the process of moving my blog posts over- which I will be doing in the next few days, (unless I decide not to), but all new entries will be made here.

What can I say, the fact that I have almost unlimited options to customize the look of my blog and the ‘cascading blogroll’ got me! I plan to make it my last ‘move’ in the next few years at least. Let’s see how I go with that! For now- all I can say is I’m proving Crazy right in calling me ’flakey’. Sigh.

I request you to please change your feed subscriptions/ sidebars/ blogroll stuff to reflect the change, if you may. If you use Google Reader- there is a ‘follow’ option there, too. Also, I had recently figured out how to add non-Wordpress blogs to my WordPress blogroll; give me a howl if you’d like to know (though I suspect that you all do and it’s just me who’s been extremely slow).

Also- if I read your blog regularly, chances are that I have placed you in the blogroll. If you don’t see it listed there, it’s probably because you have not updated it for a while and I have set it to show only 5 ‘most recently updated’ blogs (otherwise it was looking kinda cluttery). But- please let me know if I have missed you (please please!); and I apologise in advance. I promise rectify whoever I missed at my soonest possible.

See you at the other blog!

Flying Foxes

We went to a park yesterday…to see bats fly. Yup, you read it right- to see bats fly… and it was amazing.

It was the colony of the ‘flying foxes’; it is where they rest through the day until the sun sets. Sunset; that is when they stir awake and very noisily fly away in flocks. It’s beautiful- this whole thing- words do not do it justice. You should see it for yourself. You must!

I think the name of the exact location is called Yarra Boulevard, where you can take a walk amongst the bushes through the trees heavy with sleeping flying foxes and watch the Yarra river flowing beside you- and if you go while there’s still light- you’ll see hundreds of bats hanging upside-down from the trees- catching sleep for the last few minutes before starting their days hunting for food.

So we went with our shawls and our walking sandals, nine of us sitting there shoulder-to-shoulder waiting for the bats to wake up to start their days…. and when they did- we watched them fly away somewhere far- marvelling at the rules of nature and then slowly walking back to the car-park to get back home…

It’s interesting how we were going back home to finish our day while they were flying away to begin theirs.

An Announcement and a Question

First- the Announcement:

I have moved Sherkhan’s blog over to BlogSpot.

If you used to follow the earlier or would like to check it out, it’s here. It’s my beautiful kitten’s everyday adventures that I try to translate into human language.

Sherkhan’s cat friends were wonderful enough to follow him there (thank you!), but considering that I have a few cat lovers amongst my readers- I thought it might be of interest to some. What can I say, other than I live with a very vocal kitten… and I think cats are interesting enough to have their thoughts documented! Sorry, did I not tell you that I absolutely love cats? Haha…

Now- the Question:

I’m also sort of toying with the idea of moving my blog- as WordPress does not give me an option of making my own theme unless I buy a domain, and if I buy a domain- it would require me to change my address over the www-land- so I can probably just move to Blogspot….

What do you think?

How to stop me from killing you

I have problem with people who take themselves too seriously; thinking it their duty to announce it to the world ‘I AM BETTER THAN YOU. YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!’… Well, not in so many words maybe- but just as loud nonetheless.

I am otherwise okay with most people. I’m mostly amicable without sugar-coating my opinions. I cannot seem to do that. I have often been referred to as being funny and witty- even though I tend to be a little distant. There are times I literally bite my tongue to stop the words from spilling out of me- because I know on those times it’s better if I kept quiet- I have trouble saying things I don’t mean. But then- don’t mind me, I have trouble saying things I mean even.

Sometimes silence is a good refuge, it’s comfortable in a strange peaceful way. Spoken words and I don’t go well together often. Guess it’s the ‘loner chip’ in me- the colossal birth defect per se. But, despite of it all- I believe my opinions count just as much as yours do- or vice versa. Not one of us is better than the other- we are just ‘different’.

…. but I did not say these out loud, did I? I should have.

I never wonder why I need this blog, do you? I need this blog to break the silence, to be a version of me that’s more vocal- sometimes only to myself… but who said that’s not important?

Look Alikes

My workmate keeps saying that I look like Jessica Alba; and I keep laughing it off… I mean- no, I don’t but I guess it’s flattering that he’d think so. After all, the lady in question is a very attractive one and well… she looks way better than I do- if you ask me!

In different times of my life I have been compared to Julia Roberts, Eva Green… and a certain Indian actress whose last name is ‘Dickshit’ (she spells it differently… but oh well.. big difference, duh!!)…

But guess it’s still better than fellow ‘blogerette’ Agnes being compared to Britney Spears… because- at least that those I have been compared to, looks better than I do!

Now- c’mon- name a celebrity that you have been compared to, lookwise! Quick!

Time just flew and here I am standing on 1417

I remember one Summer day a long time back- on our short walk from my dad’s hospital to our bungalow- dad was telling me why that day was special.

It was special, he said, because it was ‘Pohela Boishakh’, the first day of the Bengali year 1400- and because Tagore had written a poem in the year 1300 wondering if anyone will read his poems at all 100 years down the line- by when, as Tagore had correctly suspected, he himself will be long dead and gone. And there we were, standing on the year 1400- 100 years down- reciting THAT poem proving to Tagore that he was gone, but his work was not!

Media, that year, declared that ‘Yes, we did! We still read Tagore’. You see- like many other things in this world- a bowl of rice and fish, rickshaws, the language we speak- Tagore is considered our very own. Tagore belongs to the entire Bengali-speaking population of the world- and of course we read him still… and that too- with much pride!

That day was special because we answered to Tagore’s question, asked 100 years back, that day- my dad said while we took that walk.

The reason I’m noting it is- today is again Bengali New Year- Pohela Boishakh. The year is 1417. I cannot believe SEVENTEEN years have passed since that summer walk with my dad! It has been more than half my life-time ago! Has it really been THAT long?

The answer is ‘yes’ and that makes me sad.

The ‘Waster’ of Time

I keep on deciding, un-deciding, procrastinating… specially procrastinating.

There is nothing in this world that I do more regularly than the acts of procrastination. I know the logical steps that should be taken- look through the flights and airline deals, have a long talk with my mother requesting her to not socially overwhelm me should I decide to take the flight, fill in the leave forms at work, call the cat boarding…

I know all I really need to do is ‘light the first match’… and the rest will flow through.

Yes, there are some others factors that are contributing to this otherwise typical attitude- Crazy’s studies, the poor sight of the closing balance in my bank account, my mother-hen instincts for Sherkhan, my immediate future plan that includes a rather large amount of investment, some faceless ghosts… err…

Yes- there are things weighing both sides of the scale, but sitting tightly on the tush making a blog post will not get anything done…..!

Yea, tell me about it!! No- really, it is something I know ALL about!

Beached As!

Yesterday we went to visit a friend’s place for an evening get together and ended up staying for dinner; it was just ‘not right’ to finish all the fun in the midway. No prizes for guessing that we have had a nice evening yesterday.

Meaning that- laughter was flowing over cups of tea and a few serves of yum cha, and we ended up watching a pre-recorded Russell Peters show over dinner. All I can say about the show is that this guy can be so offensive in his stand ups that he almost makes you feel guilty for laughing at his comedy.

I guess that is an achievement for a comedian; one of the most important ones- no less.

In another note- a proof that I am rather well-integrated into the Aussie culture by now is when I found myself laughing my head off at this one:

I found this clip hilarious!! Also, I don’t know about you- but I find New Zealand accent very cute!

‘Chotpoti’ and Lemon Tart

My mum loves going to carnivals. She would get all animated at the prospect of getting a new dinner set for the next dinner party she’d throw or a new Persian rug for the living room… and of course I, being the only daughter, was often dragged into those- sometimes for a second opinion for the things she bought and sometimes because I was a girl… and it’s taken for granted that girls like shopping… right?

After all these years, I now admit I never liked them. I used to count down the hours, waiting to get back to my own little world- one that I thought no one would be interested in. I have always preferred going to a quiet coffee shop over an exquisite and crowded famous diner, so that’s hardly a surprise; but I’m not sure my mum knew, I never told her.

But I went to those with her when she asked me to- because I liked to see her happy, her face shining, and her asking me with much enthusiasm if I’d like to have ‘chotpoti’ from that crowded little shack… I could tell that it meant a lot to her if I said ‘yes’- it made a difference; so I did- I said ‘yes’ and I had the delicious ‘chotpoti’ sitting in that noisy crowded little place.

After moving out of the house, right before I moving to Australia- one weekend I took my mother to my favourite coffee shop. It was nothing fancy- it was small and they did not get many customers- but they sold the best lemon tarts and the cappuccino was the best you got in Dhaka. I often used to take a book or a notebook and read it or just write sitting there for hours while drinking mugs of sugarless cappuccino, which is still my favourite. I guess I wanted to share a part of me with my mother, so I took her there.

Even after all these years- she sometimes mentions that day to me. She mentions how I had ordered her lemon tarts, even though I was quite strict throughout about limiting her sugar intake all other times. She says that it was nice to know for the first time that despite my aversion to anything that is sweet, I liked lemon tarts. I realize I never really told her who I am.

It was only once in our lives and she still mentions it to this day. I sometimes feel there should have been more days like that.

Faith

I am an atheist; I have never made it a secret. If you read my ‘about’ page- it’s there; if you see the side bar of this blog- it’s there too. You may not find many blog entries on atheism; but there are some.

Much like many other traits that I have- unbending stubbornness, inability to express feelings, mostly untrusting, fiercely loyal, sensitive, paranoid, depressive, composed, nature lover, proud, vindictive, one-track-mind, iffy, loner, a cat person, complexity- it is expressed only when it is relevant.

Atheism does not ‘define’ me; rather it is a part of who I am. As I said, I do not make it a secret, but I don’t flaunt it around either. There has never been a need for that; I’m not trying to prove anything here after all.

The reason I’m saying all these is because I am getting some hate comments on my blog posts- funnily enough, on entries that has absolutely nothing to do with atheism- the commenter wants me to ‘get out of his universe’. Hmm… I never thought anyone had exclusive rights to this universe; did I miss a memo?

I have marked those comments as ‘spam’. I blog because I like to blog, I say what I feel like saying… those may not be something you like, but those are honest heartfelt words. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me- and obviously in this era of pushing yourself… your opinions over on others- one needs to get much better in ‘ignoring’ to be able to do ‘her things’.

I’m getting better at it every day; and if you have a problem with me- I suggest you do too.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.