What's in a name...

Thought I’d give the whole backstory on my name..

People always ask about my name.. Is Malar your middle name/your father’s name/your mother’s name/your pet name?

When I was born, my grandpa said my name should begin with the sound of “Bha” according to the stars or something, so he kindly suggested Bharati. My dad apparently had his heart set on naming me Malar (which means flower if you must know). My mum didn’t particularly want to choose between her husband and her dad. So she happily decided to burden me with both names.

As if it wasn’t confusing enough having your dad’s given name as your surname.. (the perils of being a south-indian)

In school, my first name was used so I was Bharati to all. At home however, my parents called me Malar, so I was Malar to my ‘home-friends’. Now the confusion arose when my home-friends who also went to my school called me Malar in front of people who knew me as Bharati (including teachers..) They’d look wildly around to see where this Malar person came from.

Although I personally prefer Malar, (Bharati just doesn’t sound like me) my college buddies have transformed Bharati to ‘Brat’ which is absolutely me. So no more complaints from me :)

Oh and if you notice the URL for this page is a derivative of Brat.

Dear Agony Aunt

When I dance, it’s torture. Utterly excruciating, wanna-scratch-my-eyeballs-out torture. I avoid it as much as I can, but in some situations, there’s just no getting out of it. In those deadly times, I generally just sway my body from side to side, occasionally telling my legs to move here and there.. feel like a complete moron.. look at people around me and note what their moves are, determine if I can handle it and after they’re done, steal it.. the whole time I’m praying for it to be over now please God! Yes I am socially inept. Sue me.

People never seem to understand this.. They assume its shyness or just plain weirdness. Just dance, they tell me helpfully! Just do what you feel like! Let your body move! Don’t think about it, just dance! But dammit it doesn’t work! I certainly don't feel like dancing! I stand there and I’m thinking what do I do now? I can’t stop thinking.. how the hell do you stop thinking?? Someone wanna tell me? And please, no helpful suggestions of getting myself drunk..

I don’t seem to have this problem with jiving.. I think jiving is tolerable for me because there are a select number of moves that you have to do. You don’t have to come up with anything yourself.. So yes, jiving I can do :)

My problem seems to be only with free-style dancing. Yeah, that means the whole dance-like-no-ones-watching routine.. the kind anyone can do..

Sigh

I’ve heard about the famous “dance to your inner beat” suggestion. Well, I’ve tried and I don't hear any beats, rhythm, trumpets, six strings... no music whatsoever! My inner iPod is obviously kaput. What do I do?

Orange blurs and tinklebells

My cat Felix (yes, named after the notorious Felix the cat) is a devious, scheming fur-ball.. He loves the outdoors. In fact he lives for the moment he can get out of the house. If he had his way, he’d be out all day and come back only to eat…*if* he feels like it. We (and when I say 'we', I mean us ununderstanding, mean, horrible, cruel humans that Felix is forced to live with..) have managed to restrict his outings to twice a day. I have no idea how it happened but it happened. This wasn’t always the case though...

Something you should know about Felix is that he has a voice like a foghorn. So you really can't ignore him when he wants out. The only way to shut him up is to either shove him into a room, (which only muffles the meows and makes us feel like jerks) or give in and let him out.

There have been times though, when we decided enough is enough! That little devil is not going to bully us anymore! No matter how much he pleads and coaxes and demands, we are NOT giving in! He'll simply have to realize his efforts are futile.

Now, we live on the second floor of an apartment building. Felix can sense one of us coming as soon as we start climbing the stairs. He positions himself strategically so as not to alert anyone in the house of his intentions. You unlock the door and step inside. You feel something silent and vaguely orange whizzing by your legs. All you hear is the tinkle of a bell very similar to those on our cat collars. You look up and find yourself on the receiving end of our glares.. "You let Felix out!? How could you?! All that work..."

Since those times we have learned. We don’t open the door without a good amount of caution. If anyone rings the bell, we open the door only a crack and see to them. Yes, we have come to some kind of status quo with his majesty Felix so long as he gets his twice-a-day trip to the outside... without any sort of time limit of course...