It started as a slight flicker, a strange sensation as if a mosquito is moving its wing at high frequency. I ignored it. Next day it increased, it felt as if the passageway inside is as bad as western express highway. Then it hit… with all its force. The bloody cold choked my ears and there I was … half deaf and howling with pain. Everyone was coming with their own advice ofcourse. It has ranged from “Don’t take anything, it will go away” (yeah, right, easy for you to say. I am the one who is already dead with these demons banging their hammers into my ear drum), “take Otec and these antibiotics and follow the whole course beta” to “just put some warm brandy into the ear, and it will clear”.
Personally I liked the last option (due to my inherent attraction towards alcohol I guess), but didn’t have the guts to try it, so stuck to second one… not that it is helping. It is surprising what all comes to your mind when you are lying in a corner howling with pain and can’t help it. At that point of time, precisely these thoughts came into my mind in chronological order:
Ma: Yes, very natural, childish and immature but I wanted Mommy! Nothing more, but just to rest my head on her lap. Sometimes I wonder what I will do when she is gone. Ofcourse she lives like 500km away, but still it is like when love is gone, there is force. When force is gone there is chocolate, and when chocolate also goes away… there is Ma.
Marriage, Babies, X and Y: I am petrified of marriage and contrary to all my friends, who simply adore babies, I am not so gung-ho about them. I like babies for exactly 5 minutes, after that they usually cry, pee, shit or poke their finger into your eye. If I ever made a movie starring me and X and Y what would my picture look like? D says we will have original starcast: sure the credits would run something like starring “me” (fat but can dance well – very important in Hindi cinema), X (balding hero, can deliver mean dialogues) and Y (good looking, in an unconventional sort of way, but needs some practice in romance dept). Hmm… won’t work. Sigh!
What is the first memory I can remember? I back tracked and found out that surprisingly, it neither has my mom nor dad but my grandfather’s brother scolding me in the rain! I don’t remember my age… maybe 2-3 years old and it’s pouring with hailstones and I think I went outside started eating them (hailstones). Maybe it stems from childhood, but I always find hailstones fascinating. When science was a mystery, always thought god is having a snow fight.
No good programme comes on TV when you most need it and lastly
Where the hell is my phone!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Wondering...
I woke up to rains. Rains always have extreme reaction on me. Either it completely peps me up or it throws me deep into an inky blob of blues. Latter happened today. It is my holiday but have to go to office, client work. It is like God has taken my request of obliterating Mr. X from my life too seriously. He is swamping me with work (upto my eyeballs I think).
All those who wondered (I suspect none though) where I was all these days… well I was doing what I usually do best – procrastinate, ruminate… one I know my brain will turn into a mushroom … rotting the way it does (eeeew… gross thought!). Anyways, giving myself a mental shake I pulled myself out of my bed and started getting ready for office. Work has come back with a vengeance. It is like Dilbert Principle… spot the sucker (me), encourage him/her with crap (me) and then download all the work to her (me), only consolation being my boss has left so I am alone in my pond… good way to show my ‘boss ka boss’ how much I work (doubtful).
Coming to X and Y… I was determined that I should now make up my mind and stick to one (Y ofcourse). Too much of see-sawing happening… but I guess my destiny has other ideas or rather my boredom… after a gap of 2 successful weeks of trying to avoid X like a plague, I gave in to the temptation of meeting him. I thought meeting him will be like you know “who cares?” Surprise, surprise I do… a little. Ok, more than a little… a little more. There are times when you want your man to tickle you physically, but there are times when you want more mental play than a physical one. Contrary to popular opinion, seeing two people at the same time is not always about lust. It is something else. I love talking to X and was symbolically patting my own back that here I am, sitting with him like a nice, good, platonic friend and not even …errr… digressing to other areas. Ofcourse, we both know what comes next but it is like we are gambling … pushing our luck and time till either one runs out.
Sometimes I envy Y. Does he ever go through this? Looking at him I doubt… I mean he is more of a ‘doer’ than a ‘thinker’. I can give my eye and tooth to take a sneak peak into his mind… does he ever drown in the spiral of thoughts the moment he sits idle? Sometimes, I wonder whether all of us live more in ‘ifs’ ‘buts’ and ‘maybe’. It reminds me of what Douglas Adams said in The Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy’ – “He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it”.
Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. I just hope if it is dream, I am playing the lead character ;).
All those who wondered (I suspect none though) where I was all these days… well I was doing what I usually do best – procrastinate, ruminate… one I know my brain will turn into a mushroom … rotting the way it does (eeeew… gross thought!). Anyways, giving myself a mental shake I pulled myself out of my bed and started getting ready for office. Work has come back with a vengeance. It is like Dilbert Principle… spot the sucker (me), encourage him/her with crap (me) and then download all the work to her (me), only consolation being my boss has left so I am alone in my pond… good way to show my ‘boss ka boss’ how much I work (doubtful).
Coming to X and Y… I was determined that I should now make up my mind and stick to one (Y ofcourse). Too much of see-sawing happening… but I guess my destiny has other ideas or rather my boredom… after a gap of 2 successful weeks of trying to avoid X like a plague, I gave in to the temptation of meeting him. I thought meeting him will be like you know “who cares?” Surprise, surprise I do… a little. Ok, more than a little… a little more. There are times when you want your man to tickle you physically, but there are times when you want more mental play than a physical one. Contrary to popular opinion, seeing two people at the same time is not always about lust. It is something else. I love talking to X and was symbolically patting my own back that here I am, sitting with him like a nice, good, platonic friend and not even …errr… digressing to other areas. Ofcourse, we both know what comes next but it is like we are gambling … pushing our luck and time till either one runs out.
Sometimes I envy Y. Does he ever go through this? Looking at him I doubt… I mean he is more of a ‘doer’ than a ‘thinker’. I can give my eye and tooth to take a sneak peak into his mind… does he ever drown in the spiral of thoughts the moment he sits idle? Sometimes, I wonder whether all of us live more in ‘ifs’ ‘buts’ and ‘maybe’. It reminds me of what Douglas Adams said in The Hitchhiker’s guide to the Galaxy’ – “He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it”.
Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. I just hope if it is dream, I am playing the lead character ;).
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Alcoholic Anonymous
I am so swearing off drinks! Bloody expensive and makes me want to sleep. Dreamt that I am peeing vodka.
1 bottle whisky, 1 bottle vodka and 3bottles beer up for grabs... please call
1 bottle whisky, 1 bottle vodka and 3bottles beer up for grabs... please call
Monday, August 13, 2007
Dumpsville
I sat with my Harry Potter (yes I too have read the whole series and enjoyed it like my nephew who is one-fourth my age. But that can be another blog altogether, without digressing…) and stared moodily out of the window, over the balcony, at the gulmohar tree. I could see a crow perched up on a branch and stare back at me. It was Saturday afternoon and time was not ticking, it was crawling (rare for someone living in a city like Mumbai). My heart was not in place, I was bored and restless. I knew something was not clicking… something was wrong.
I hate to admit it, but I think I have been pseudo dumped. I use pseudo because I don’t know whether I am or I am not… dumped that is. Mr. X may come back (he usually does) but this time I have decided to toss him out. So it is like confusion on whether I have to dump him or am I already been dumped? Either ways it is not a particularly nice feeling and I chucked my Potter and thought why not pen down a ready reckoner kind of thing… you know… for all uninitiated girls like me who can’t face the fact even when it stares them in their faces that they are going through the experience of Dumpsville…
You suffer from PMS… all the time. Now I know why they coined the term ‘prickly pear’. It is like you want to scream at everyone who asks you “What’s wrong?” that “It is not that there is anything wrong, I have just been having an extended bad mood for the last two months!”
You hope that (here things can differ according to individual taste especially on the food point) – 1. He suffers from loose motions 2. He grows lice 3. He suddenly discovers while chewing food that he has chewed a giant cockroach along with his rice. 4. He suffers.
You can really relate to all sad, soppy songs in the world (ok that’s exaggerating it a bit). Instead of humming 'Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me', you start singing 'Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, dumb me?'
You get messages from all over the world except the number from which you want it to come from.
But most important of all, your ego dents. I mean it is not that it really creates a problem or makes you go into depression, but the feeling is same. When in college, my bucket of pride overflowed, and I approached this handsome guy (who actually looked a little a toad come to think of it now... yikes! my taste in men was really bad then) and when he rejected my offer of a date, cried even more loads of buckets. It is not as if you genuinely get affected, it is just that you can't digest the fact that after sharing intimate moments, anyone can become so uninterested in you. It is more of vanity factor you see... so we do as Moliere said "to find yourself jilted is a blow to your pride. Do your best to forget it and if you don't suceed, atleast pretend to".
So that brings us to the inevitable... what happens next? Do you forgive him (No), do you call him to find out what happened (No), do u give him a second (actually, definitely not his second i think) chance? (No). Then how do you get out of it? Any solutions? Since it is a ready reckoner, ofcourse it will have a solution… for me ... I look at Mr. Y and feel happy to be the kind again who will be counted in loyal dedicated committed lover when they do the sorting in heaven. And it happens sooner than you expect… the colour of his eyes are first thing you forget. Suddenly, one morning you wake up and can't remeber how he sounded, then goes the smell.
You meet next best/ worst thing around the corner and before you know it …baby, you are back in circuit!
I hate to admit it, but I think I have been pseudo dumped. I use pseudo because I don’t know whether I am or I am not… dumped that is. Mr. X may come back (he usually does) but this time I have decided to toss him out. So it is like confusion on whether I have to dump him or am I already been dumped? Either ways it is not a particularly nice feeling and I chucked my Potter and thought why not pen down a ready reckoner kind of thing… you know… for all uninitiated girls like me who can’t face the fact even when it stares them in their faces that they are going through the experience of Dumpsville…
You suffer from PMS… all the time. Now I know why they coined the term ‘prickly pear’. It is like you want to scream at everyone who asks you “What’s wrong?” that “It is not that there is anything wrong, I have just been having an extended bad mood for the last two months!”
You hope that (here things can differ according to individual taste especially on the food point) – 1. He suffers from loose motions 2. He grows lice 3. He suddenly discovers while chewing food that he has chewed a giant cockroach along with his rice. 4. He suffers.
You can really relate to all sad, soppy songs in the world (ok that’s exaggerating it a bit). Instead of humming 'Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me', you start singing 'Hold me, thrill me, kiss me, dumb me?'
You get messages from all over the world except the number from which you want it to come from.
But most important of all, your ego dents. I mean it is not that it really creates a problem or makes you go into depression, but the feeling is same. When in college, my bucket of pride overflowed, and I approached this handsome guy (who actually looked a little a toad come to think of it now... yikes! my taste in men was really bad then) and when he rejected my offer of a date, cried even more loads of buckets. It is not as if you genuinely get affected, it is just that you can't digest the fact that after sharing intimate moments, anyone can become so uninterested in you. It is more of vanity factor you see... so we do as Moliere said "to find yourself jilted is a blow to your pride. Do your best to forget it and if you don't suceed, atleast pretend to".
So that brings us to the inevitable... what happens next? Do you forgive him (No), do you call him to find out what happened (No), do u give him a second (actually, definitely not his second i think) chance? (No). Then how do you get out of it? Any solutions? Since it is a ready reckoner, ofcourse it will have a solution… for me ... I look at Mr. Y and feel happy to be the kind again who will be counted in loyal dedicated committed lover when they do the sorting in heaven. And it happens sooner than you expect… the colour of his eyes are first thing you forget. Suddenly, one morning you wake up and can't remeber how he sounded, then goes the smell.
You meet next best/ worst thing around the corner and before you know it …baby, you are back in circuit!
Monday, August 06, 2007
Cold War...
He had said once, after we had a fight and I was hurt by his coldness : "Where is your sense of self? You shouldn't be affected, I think you have low self esteem"
Two thoughts going in my mind at exactly that moment were...
1. Yes, sure, the only problem is I am made of flesh, blood and feelings? (I seriously think nowadays, you are made of cement... you know concrete?)
2. Well, baby, proves my low self esteem - I slept with you didn't I?
Two thoughts going in my mind at exactly that moment were...
1. Yes, sure, the only problem is I am made of flesh, blood and feelings? (I seriously think nowadays, you are made of cement... you know concrete?)
2. Well, baby, proves my low self esteem - I slept with you didn't I?
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Etcetera
There is no cure for mood swings. Most of the time they are caused by problems the heart knows and mind doesn’t register. Tried all conventional methods of retail therapy, alcohol (one even suggested sex! – good idea but complicated), good old coffee and conversations, but then realized as someone said (can’t remember the name) you can cure retail but you cannot cure wholesale… so from experience, when u are prickly, behave like one. No pleasure equals calling your boss stupid, fighting with ALL men in your life (X and Y have both kept me busy with that), cry without reason and generally have a day when you can release the witch inside you.
There is also no concept of ‘perfect couple’. It would be great if I could have a mix of X and Y with a dash Johnny Depp, Shiney Ahuja (he’s hot don’t you think?), Gregory Peck (the younger version ofcourse), Kishore Kumar added with wit of Oscar Wilde, Saki. It would help if he cooks and cleans, never raises his voice but still maintains his authority, considers men and women equal. What are the odds of any man fulfilling this criteria? None. What is the equation other way round? Same. So that practically makes everyone perfect for everyone else and brings me back to square one.
I’d rather be a woman any day than a man as 1. I can cry without any reason and he would quip, “You are acting just like a normal woman”. Excuse me? But I am a normal woman. (What is an abnormal one?) 2. I can wear pink as much as I want without any self doubt and most important 3. Women and children are the first to be rescued off accidents, sinking ships, burning trains and bankruptcy (I usually do that … make sad puppy faces and crib about living below poverty line for last week of each month). Shallow but effective.
Home not where your parents live, home is where your heart is. Exactly two months back my parents informed me that they are moving to Indore from Bhopal. Bhopal is home. It is where I will come back in the end. Although visit to Indore was still the same technically, house , parents there and same nagging on “Shaadi kab karogi”, it just didn’t click. Eventually I realized, it not just people, it is more the memories you associate with people that makes a person or a place fond for you. Bhopal is my memory bank of 21 years; where else would I feel at home?
There is also no concept of ‘perfect couple’. It would be great if I could have a mix of X and Y with a dash Johnny Depp, Shiney Ahuja (he’s hot don’t you think?), Gregory Peck (the younger version ofcourse), Kishore Kumar added with wit of Oscar Wilde, Saki. It would help if he cooks and cleans, never raises his voice but still maintains his authority, considers men and women equal. What are the odds of any man fulfilling this criteria? None. What is the equation other way round? Same. So that practically makes everyone perfect for everyone else and brings me back to square one.
I’d rather be a woman any day than a man as 1. I can cry without any reason and he would quip, “You are acting just like a normal woman”. Excuse me? But I am a normal woman. (What is an abnormal one?) 2. I can wear pink as much as I want without any self doubt and most important 3. Women and children are the first to be rescued off accidents, sinking ships, burning trains and bankruptcy (I usually do that … make sad puppy faces and crib about living below poverty line for last week of each month). Shallow but effective.
Home not where your parents live, home is where your heart is. Exactly two months back my parents informed me that they are moving to Indore from Bhopal. Bhopal is home. It is where I will come back in the end. Although visit to Indore was still the same technically, house , parents there and same nagging on “Shaadi kab karogi”, it just didn’t click. Eventually I realized, it not just people, it is more the memories you associate with people that makes a person or a place fond for you. Bhopal is my memory bank of 21 years; where else would I feel at home?
Friday, July 06, 2007
Merci Beaucoup
Sitting in the darkness (no electricity for 2 hours due to some fault) and staring at the ceiling, I felt I need to thank these people/factors in my life:
1. GOD: Thank you god for making me a female. That means I have to go through chums every month and not to forget the pain with it. I think it would really be making people around me happy to see me (and suffer with me) the hundred mood swings in a day during PMS and be a human personification of a cactus in general. If this pain is what they say is magnified during child birth, I think I have a newfound respect and awe for mothers… past, future and present.
2. Mr. X: What would I do without you? Actually I am finding that out since you are in one of your 2400 moods in a 24 hour day (for the uninitiated in mathematics that makes around 100 moods in a hour, more than a mood in a minute, and I am NOT talking about Moods- the condom) when you want to hibernate. Since your chief interests lies somewhere between sleeping with me and sleeping with me, it makes you so irresistible na?
3. Mr. Y: I love you. I really do. We have been through the thick and thin. It is because of you and your love that I have grown to like psychotic, ego maniacs. It really makes me happy to be your unintentional doormat and really makes me guilty that I blow off your money whenever I can lay my hands on it (I know I don’t get too many opportunities for it as I would like to have… you are being careful). If living with you is such a pleasurable experience, I can’t wait to get married! (Don’t worry darling, I will never leave you for X, ever.)
4. Parents: I am really thankful to you. Not sarcastic, really am. I know I really made you both go through hell (but you have to agree it was vice versa), but no one puts up with me like you both do. And I will never say this on your face dad, but I really love you, even when you are being a totally stuck up 60 year old.
5. PAN Dept: Lastly, my utmost gratitude goes to the PAN Dept. Since loosing my PAN Card last year (that also reminds me to thank the thief who stole my wallet at Malad station – my visit for the first and last time in Malad) I have lost count of the endless mails I have written to them and forms I have filled and sent for a duplicate one, it has resulted in vast improvement of my writing skills. I also want to thank them for being so prompt to let me know after 8 months of application that they have received my application but in addition to my proof of identity (a copy of my passport) they have not received my proof of address (copy of a passport- what a coincidence!). So I may have to reapply again. Thank You!
1. GOD: Thank you god for making me a female. That means I have to go through chums every month and not to forget the pain with it. I think it would really be making people around me happy to see me (and suffer with me) the hundred mood swings in a day during PMS and be a human personification of a cactus in general. If this pain is what they say is magnified during child birth, I think I have a newfound respect and awe for mothers… past, future and present.
2. Mr. X: What would I do without you? Actually I am finding that out since you are in one of your 2400 moods in a 24 hour day (for the uninitiated in mathematics that makes around 100 moods in a hour, more than a mood in a minute, and I am NOT talking about Moods- the condom) when you want to hibernate. Since your chief interests lies somewhere between sleeping with me and sleeping with me, it makes you so irresistible na?
3. Mr. Y: I love you. I really do. We have been through the thick and thin. It is because of you and your love that I have grown to like psychotic, ego maniacs. It really makes me happy to be your unintentional doormat and really makes me guilty that I blow off your money whenever I can lay my hands on it (I know I don’t get too many opportunities for it as I would like to have… you are being careful). If living with you is such a pleasurable experience, I can’t wait to get married! (Don’t worry darling, I will never leave you for X, ever.)
4. Parents: I am really thankful to you. Not sarcastic, really am. I know I really made you both go through hell (but you have to agree it was vice versa), but no one puts up with me like you both do. And I will never say this on your face dad, but I really love you, even when you are being a totally stuck up 60 year old.
5. PAN Dept: Lastly, my utmost gratitude goes to the PAN Dept. Since loosing my PAN Card last year (that also reminds me to thank the thief who stole my wallet at Malad station – my visit for the first and last time in Malad) I have lost count of the endless mails I have written to them and forms I have filled and sent for a duplicate one, it has resulted in vast improvement of my writing skills. I also want to thank them for being so prompt to let me know after 8 months of application that they have received my application but in addition to my proof of identity (a copy of my passport) they have not received my proof of address (copy of a passport- what a coincidence!). So I may have to reapply again. Thank You!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Taxi
It was raining heavily. I could see the driver wiping the foggy windscreen of the taxi frequently… his wiper was not working. Inspite of the dirt and filth lying around in Mumbai, rains always manage to give the city a clean look. It looks as if the city is taking a bath after a long and dusty playtime outside. Contrary to the soothing feeling I get by the sound of falling raindrops, today it hardly made a difference. My heart felt as if it was going to jump out of my chest.
He called me yesterday night, asking me to receive him at the station. It was the first time he had gone ahead of his deliberate casual attitude towards everything… towards me. I would be lying if I say it didn’t please me. I looked at the rearview mirror and did a mental check – Kajal, check. Lipstick, check. A little of cleavage was showing… I didn’t care. I was wearing blue and smiled when I realized it was his favourite colour (God! I was acting like a funny teenager). I was sure he wouldn’t even notice it. A loud screech of brakes and sound of the taxi splashing through a huge puddle jerked me out of my reverie.
He had met me a year before… can’t even remember what attracted me towards him in the first place. Doesn’t have the looks or the disposition. He says he doesn’t love me, neither do I. But I did miss him a lot when he was away. Should I tell this to him or not? The rain had stopped and I jumped over the pools of muddy water that had formed everywhere to reach the platform and do what I could … wait.
I spotted him struggling with his 2 bags and walking towards me; we searched for a taxi and just bundled up…luggage and all in the back seat towards his home. Sometimes I think if he never lived alone, we would definitely not be meeting like this. Not a time for self reflection I thought and turned towards him. The first thing I noticed was he had mosquito bites on his neck
“Well, I thought there were fewer mosquitoes at home than here in Mumbai?”
“Well, since you were not there to leave any marks, the mosquitoes did”
“Very funny!”
“Do you want me stay?” I asked
“Upto you. It is always your choice”
“Ok”
I decided not to. Stay that is. Even when he kissed me and asked me to stay.
“Station chalo”, I told the cabbie to catch the nearest local to my home.
If it was just a passing thing, why did it hurt so much to hear those words? Was I going back on my own resolve? That I wouldn’t take this seriously, I wouldn’t take him seriously. Where does that leave me? Was I being true to myself? Is the emotion I see flickering in his eyes for it vanishes just as quickly – love? If not then what? Why are we still together? It was not suppose to last for more than a month and yet here we are, not able to break away. I am going insane? Too many questions and no answers I thought as I left one train of thought to catch a real one.
He called me yesterday night, asking me to receive him at the station. It was the first time he had gone ahead of his deliberate casual attitude towards everything… towards me. I would be lying if I say it didn’t please me. I looked at the rearview mirror and did a mental check – Kajal, check. Lipstick, check. A little of cleavage was showing… I didn’t care. I was wearing blue and smiled when I realized it was his favourite colour (God! I was acting like a funny teenager). I was sure he wouldn’t even notice it. A loud screech of brakes and sound of the taxi splashing through a huge puddle jerked me out of my reverie.
He had met me a year before… can’t even remember what attracted me towards him in the first place. Doesn’t have the looks or the disposition. He says he doesn’t love me, neither do I. But I did miss him a lot when he was away. Should I tell this to him or not? The rain had stopped and I jumped over the pools of muddy water that had formed everywhere to reach the platform and do what I could … wait.
I spotted him struggling with his 2 bags and walking towards me; we searched for a taxi and just bundled up…luggage and all in the back seat towards his home. Sometimes I think if he never lived alone, we would definitely not be meeting like this. Not a time for self reflection I thought and turned towards him. The first thing I noticed was he had mosquito bites on his neck
“Well, I thought there were fewer mosquitoes at home than here in Mumbai?”
“Well, since you were not there to leave any marks, the mosquitoes did”
“Very funny!”
“Do you want me stay?” I asked
“Upto you. It is always your choice”
“Ok”
I decided not to. Stay that is. Even when he kissed me and asked me to stay.
“Station chalo”, I told the cabbie to catch the nearest local to my home.
If it was just a passing thing, why did it hurt so much to hear those words? Was I going back on my own resolve? That I wouldn’t take this seriously, I wouldn’t take him seriously. Where does that leave me? Was I being true to myself? Is the emotion I see flickering in his eyes for it vanishes just as quickly – love? If not then what? Why are we still together? It was not suppose to last for more than a month and yet here we are, not able to break away. I am going insane? Too many questions and no answers I thought as I left one train of thought to catch a real one.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Phone Call
Mummy called 7 am in the morning -
"We are thinking ... how about you getting married in November?"
"Hmmm"
I don't need a vodka shot (gulp)
I need a whole bloody vodka swimming pool.
"We are thinking ... how about you getting married in November?"
"Hmmm"
I don't need a vodka shot (gulp)
I need a whole bloody vodka swimming pool.
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