Monday, March 30, 2009


Chic-lit is definitely the best kind of read, considering that any reading I get to do these days is very interrupted. These pick-me-up books, fraught with much drama, emotions and inane amounts of detail, make for a fab read ‘cause they connect with every girl at some point.

There’s the wacky working relationships, the too-close-for-comfort family [even the non-existent family makes a reasonable number of appearances] and the gaggle of girls who are also the very best of friends. Despite the ability to rip each other apart, out of sheer exasperation, they come out bright, shiny and headed toward contentment.

Lauren Weisberger’s Chasing Harry Winston is one such good chic-lit read that had me quite absorbed from start to finish. The 3 girls in the middle of it all are quite believable in what they do. Sometimes the urge to laugh along or gasp in shock is just irresistible.

The book is written well and the author makes you feel like you understood the characters just as well as the best friends understood each other. On another level, it’s a relief to read that even in fairy tales, happily-ever-afters are not things you stumble onto, it’s something you make happen.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Chocolate and Steel: Jewellery

Here's a site with some very interesting jewelry. very kitsch and artsy, the designs are quite innovative and fresh...

Chocolate and Steel: *.*.*.*GIVEAWAY*.*.*.*

Friday, March 6, 2009

Of stolen glances, love and companionship.

She'd wait at the stand everyday, looking for just the right seat that'd come her way. The foot-step's a bit too high, but for a glimpse of him, she'd tarry on that way.

Further down the route, he'd wait his turn. Would he see her today? T'was tough to fathom why he felt this way. A strange sort of palpation overcame his being until he saw her, only to turn to a nervous pitter-patter of his insides when their eyes met.

She did not think it was possible, after all that has past, to be so deeply affected by the very sight of him. Waiting to catch that stolen glance, she'd break into a smile so intense, she felt it reach the depths of her soul.

"Is it possible?" they wondered, as they dropped notes in folded kerchiefs. Her's were delicate shades of mauve and beige. His, large, white squares, inlaid with simple cross checks. It was a thrill for each, held close to the face.

Intense route studies were pursued; clocking the accuracy of various transport options, they looked for that perfect home. They found it and their few belongings slowly but rapturously followed.

They fled their respective homes altogether, to stay at with each other at their new home for what's left of forever. It bewildered their children [and grandchildren], how their own mother and father, at this considerably mature and responsible age, could ever behave like teenagers this way.