I must admit that with my days turning into minutes and the prompts of Day 13 coming before I finish sending off the post for Day 12 , I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.

This is a typically colloquial Indian English phrase which I think is a literal translation of a phrase in one of the local languages.

Indian English is English spoken in India – it is quite different from English English and American English. That’s really the beauty of English ,a language that has the ability to morph and adapt to different locales and demographics. Thus even though all of us speak English , we don’t all speak the same English!

I’ve observed that the more things are the same , the more they are different. For instance take something like service. Now all over the world it would seem that service means to offer a facility. But all service levels aren’t the same. The more I travel the world, the more I realise how blessed I am to be living in India.

[tweetthis display_mode=”box”]Despite the poor level of education the service levels in Third World countries are often amazing[/tweetthis]

A stitch in time

This morning, for instance, I ran out of the house only to find that a seam of a panel of my top had unraveled. Logically it made sense to return home since I was only four floors down in the  lift .

However, neither patience nor logic have been my forte  and I decided to go ahead with my plan of picking up Wow Dinga from school .

As I came down the hill, tried to ignore the unraveling panel that was beginning to look more and more like a flap when I passed the tailor’s shop. Suddenly it struck me that I could pop inside and ask the tailor to fix it .

And that’s just what I did. I went inside and asked the tailor to run a quick seam while I waited inside the trial room. There for five minutes I watched images of myself multiplying . I was aghast at the multiple layers of fat and was trying to suck in my stomach. There  was a knock on the door and my garment was handed back to me!

It was done. Five minutes and no charge!

I walked out with a smile on my face  for the prompt service accorded to me .

Now is this kind of a service available anywhere in the world?

linking up with #Ultimate Blog challenge, #BlogBoost

What me weird?

Ever since I can remember , people have described me as weird. I often wonder why because as far as I’m concerned I have two eyes like everyone, a nose like everyone, a mouth like everyone. You get the drift don’t you?

So why do you call me weird I want to ask.

Is it because I speak my mind?
Is it because I don’t care that I’m not the belle of the ball?

Is it because I’m not embarrassed to be seen in my pyjamas?

Is it because I’m not very tall? (And don’t wear high heels or stilletos to be 6 feet tall)

I’m not very thin and I talk too much?

I have a loud voice and am a bit hard of hearing.

I don’t love exercising nor do I love eating.

I’m scared of the dark and thunder and lightening.

I’m frightened of water and just don’t like swimming.

I love chocolates and cheese and a good glass of wine.

But isn’t all this normal?

What most people like?

I’m generally peace loving but have a foul temper too.

I can scream like a banshee if I feel the need to.

But isn’t this normal or do you still think

That I’m weird?

SO if I am weird please tell me what’s normal!

How to define weird

According to the dictionary weird means suggesting something supernatural; unearthly. Now I definitely am not supernatural or unearthly so I wonder why I’m called weird. Besides,  if being oneself is weird then aren’t we all guilty of being weird?

And what amazes me is the ease with which people tell me to my face that I’m weird. I often feel like telling them that they are definitely rude for being so forthright and frank . I just keep quiet and let them continue thinking I’m weird.

Is this weird?

Linking this up to #Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost Day 11,