Why i hate mondays

The rude blare of the alarm wakes me from my deep slumber. I can hear the pitter-patter of raindrops outside the window-or was I dreaming that I could? I hit the snooze button on the alarm. It blares again, I hit the snooze again.

And then there is another weird noise which wakes me up. The shrill ring of my phone brings me crashing down to earth. I pick up the call.  It is my cabbie telling me that he will be around to pick me up in ‘another 20 minute sharp’. I drag myself out of the bed cursing the day. I hate Mondays.

I have hated them ever since I started going to school. The face of my class teacher looked more formidable on Mondays.  It used to be day when we got the weekly report on the tests. Was this the reason why I started hating the day? I am not sure.

If you thought things have changed, now that I m working, let me tell you they has not. In fact, I feel  it is worse. Monday is when everything has to be redone. When everything feels so hectic and I feel totally confused. Even though, Monday is the start of a weekend for me now, I still hate it.

Like many across the globe, I suffer from Monday morning blues. Despite many sites giving me suggestions how to beat it, I still cannot understand why we cannot just bypass Monday  and go on straight to Tuesday which is way more peaceful.

I trawl the net to cheer myself up. And here is what I found. May be this number from Mamas and Papas could cheer you up. Hum along.

Thank you, Father

Sunday, 20th June is a red-letter day. And I have just realized it is Father’s Day. A day to say thank you to the man who, along with my mother brought me into this world.

I agree with my colleague Tenzin that I don’t need a ‘special’ day to say thank you to my father. He is my support system. To me, he is the coolest, strongest and the purest soul alive in this highly artificial world. He has an answer to all my problems – however serious or trivial they may be.  He is one special person, who has with his cool intellect changed my outlook towards life.

My father was beside me when I took my first step; he was there for me when I had my first heart-break. He was there when I excelled at my studies and when I flunked them. He supported me when I decided to stray off from the ‘normal’ career options of being an engineer or a doctor even though my mother was crestfallen and could never understand why I had to break free.  He is my critic, my best friend, my idol. He means the world to me.

So, today, while people take time off to pamper their dads with costly gifts or a spa treatment, I say a silent prayer, selfish as it may be, that he be there for me, forever. And pray that God keeps him safe and healthy.

Mangoes, Memories and Me

My usual outings to YouTube is for music. But, recently, I stumbled upon an interesting video on how to slice a mango. That left me a bit nostalgic. For mangoes bring back the memories of a childhood spent climbing trees to pluck the golden fruit.  So, I thought,  before this season draws to a close, I should put down why mangoes tug at me – even if some are priced at over Rs 100 a kg.


Normally, the mango season in India starts with the onset of summer. By May when the mercury soars, vendors in push-carts selling mangoes becomes a common sight across the country. From the street vendors to super markets, mangoes sell like hot cakes.


There are plenty of fruits to pick from, but why is it that I tend to be oddly passionate about the mango?  Is it the taste that leaves me asking for more? Or the many varieties available in the market? Or is it because it brings back the bittersweet memories of childhood?


For me, mangoes are sweet reminders of those carefree days of youth when my cousins used to climb the trees and throw down the ripe fruits. Of those days – when my brothers weren’t around – I used to wait endlessly for the wind to come rustle the branches laden with mangoes. The fond hope that one would break off and fall near me.
We used to feast on mangoes. We used to bite into them and relish the taste, have competitions on who will cut it into neat strips. During the summer there was seldom a day when we did not have a mango dish for lunch and dinner. Though I have forgotten the names of endless dishes my mom and cousins used to make,  the taste lingers.


There are many varieties of mangoes which make you wish that mangoes were not seasonal.  Alphonso, Banganpalli and some local varieties are my favourites.  While you are deciding which one you will buy today, listen to this whacky mango song