Vandana, a feisty two-year-old child who'd slipped inside a bore well was finally rescued by the army late today.  The child put up a brave front as she waited for the rescuers to reach her.  my mommy-in-law and I were both shocked and at the same time impressed by the child's resilience to hold on to life.  One can only imagine the ordeal faced by a small child such as her, trapped underground, no food,no water, and no air for over 25 hours.  We shivered and sat transfixed as the newscaster explained why it was taking so long for the rescue team to reach the child.  The hard ground of the surface had given way to soft, almost sand-like dirt which made it harder to dig deeper towards the child.  

But all's well that ends well and Vandana was finally reunited with her parents at the end of her nightmare.  I can't imagine being stuck inside a dark, narrow hole for more than a minute.  It would drive me crazy.  I would have probably started wishing for death rather than face the situation.  Vandana however, only asked for one thing, her mother.  


God bless you Vandana.

 I was editing my profile when I noticed that Livejournal has Dili as one the entries in the timezone dropdown list.  Interesting. 
The Indian Government has not yet made a decision to change Delhi's name to Dili.  No, we Delhiiites prefer Delhi to Dilli.  
Delhi or Dilli or as I now see on livejournal, Dili, doesn't really matter.  It's a great place to live in and that's all that matters.  Heh. Dili.  Funny.

Another year, another Holi.  I've become overly ambitious over the years.  I've begun to think that simply because I choose to boycott the festival, the festival will boycott me.   Wishful thinking.  It's amazing how year after year despite professing my extreme revulsion and dislike of the whole throw-colour filled waterballoons-and then dunk in the water tank routine, I manage to get caught in it every single time.  

Yes, I say to the shocked gasps and incredulous stares, I do not like Holi.  It's messy.  It;s muddy.  It's inconvenient.  It's not supposed to be, but it always ends up being so.  The triumph of good over evil was never heralded with so many buckets of water and powdered colours just waiting to be smeared onto an unsuspecting individual.  Yes, unsuspecting.  Think you I jest?  Alright here's the scene.  Yours Truly is lying peacefully in her bed, lost in dreams of book tours and lines of autograph-seekers when suddenly a hand appears out of nowhere and two seconds later, her face in covered in colour.  covered so well, that you'd be hardpressed to say which colour it was to begin.  I manage to smile somehow.  The miscreants do not notice the murderous glares I shoot in their direction.  They cannot imagine that I have not had immense fun by virtue of being dragged out of bed on a sunny morning, only to be smeared with colours and then told that the procedure for hosing me down with the garden pipe has already been fixed as today's entertainment.  "Honey!  How can you NOT be having fun?"

Any attempt to escape is futile.  They have me surrounded. There's just one thing left to do now.  Cross your arms over your chest (yes, everything is visible by now) and wait it out.  Once they've ruined any semblance you had to a human being, you are free to go.  

Hasta La Vista.
My fingernails are still pink.  Who pays for that?