The Perils of too much (choice)

“I just can’t seem to find the right man for me”, moaned my sister. This was one of her finding ‘Mr. Right’ phases and she was hell-bent on finding a good husband by the year end.

“I liked V but he turned out to be psychotic, D is extremely sweet but a total loser, A makes my hormones go haywire but can’t seem to decide even one single thing and I feel no fizz when I kiss D.  He practically acts like a monk. Why does it have to happen to just me”, she continued, glumly looking into her cup of coffee, maybe for an answer.

“D is not a soda to give you fizz and for all you know D's err... quipment is faulty”. I smirked at my own PJ. I didn’t want to burst her bubble that Mr. Right doesn’t exist. It has always been Mr. Right at that moment of time. “Why don’t you try dating all four of them together?”

“Very funny! You never give me sound advice. I always feel as if I am the elder sister! Maybe I will just go abroad and get a guy there! How come you never have men problems in your life?”

“They are not so important. I am just having a good time with them,” I replied faking a nonchalance. 

“What! Really?” She almost spilled her coffee. “Wait till I tell Ma and Y. I never knew you thought like that!”

Are all younger sisters such pests?

P.S. For all those who wondered if I was gone for good... well I guess life is (ahem!) interesting enough to write about again!

Home Sweet Home

Yipppeeeeee!
Finally, going home after a year. Although parents are currently staying in another city 3 hours away, Bhopal will always be my home. Few things on the agenda:
1. Check if Aunty (they make one in a million like her- in extreme hurry!) still wears those hideous nightgowns all throughout the day and has the latest gossip on current love affairs to potato prices
2. If Panchmari is still as beautiful as it was when I went camping from school. Maybe, this time I can afford to stay at a nice hotel instead of that makeshift camp between mosquitoes, smell of faint cow dung and coconut oil smell lingering from the hair of my classmate sleeping a few inches away.
3. Does Pradeep uncle (I was always confused, whether pradeep was his name or his son’s name) still run the library at 10 no market? I used to borrow M&B novels on the sly when I was 15 as they were forbidden by Ma (how I wasted my pocket money giving rent on Nagraj/Dhurv/ Doga comics and later M&B).
4. Eat piping hot Jalebis from Chappan Bhog at 7 am in the morning with Poha. Only people living in MP can understand the sweet joys of eating hot Jalebis after every mouthful of Poha.
5. Do teenage school girls and boys still roam around the small lake near the hotel management institute in a strange form of immature mating dance? The nervous smiles, eye locks, swishing bikes and Kinetic Hondas, girls preening like peacocks in their best evening clothes and boys showing off with a dummy guitar on the back (come to think of it now, I doubt if that time Bhopal even had a decent guitar teaching institute).
6. If R eventually got married? Or rather where is he? He never kept in touch once I left for Mumbai, I took so many rides sitting behind, on his bike (left brakes deliberately put included).
7. If A has become a father? How strange life is… at one time I used to wait to just catch a glimpse of him and now, not even one string in my heart will flutter even if he vows to spend an eternity with me.
More than anything else, I can’t wait to see if home still feels like home…

Yours Honestly…

I was trying to talk to X. He was not in the mood, answering in monosyllables. I think he can express everything between ‘ah, hmmm, well and okay’. So simple and convenient. If it’s a trick question like “Do you think you will love me, when I am old and senile?” it can definitely be answered by a “Don’t know”. I also pondered should I even write this? (I know you are reading it X). Should I tell him it hurts to hear these words sometimes, after spending intimate moments, facing his typical indifference? It also leaves me confused. If it’s not there, then why does it feel like it? But then, just for today I have decided I will say, write and speak the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me god (if there is one out there…) cause if it comes like a scene out of ‘liar liar’ and I may not end up as lucky as Jim Carry does. It also answers my dilemma I guess, of debating whether to even write this when I know my thoughts are just a url away…

So here goes the confession of a lesser mortal-

I think marriages are outdated. Any relationship doesn’t guarantee commitment, even if you love someone, so why legalise it anyways? Alexander Woollcott may have been my long lost ancestor. His words “Everything I like is illegal, immoral or fattening” just reinforces my belief. I think I would have been happiest in my life living in sin. But it doesn’t mean I don’t want love. I firmly believe in love, but I think you don’t necessarily have to be binded by love. And yes Mr. Woollcott, I don’t think I am ever going to get slim and have a longer life by throwing away excess weight (even if I starve and kill myself to death anyways to be slimmer and live a little longer)

It breaks my heart to see even my own female relatives (forget about Indian women in general) don’t even have the wish to be liberated. They really love their unequal relationships. I will cook what my husband likes, not wear what my husband doesn’t like, will ask my father to get permission to go for a party. Too scared to break the mold? Or too happy actually to do anything about it? (Someone please tell me, because frankly, I don’t seem to be enjoying the role-play of Ms. Duty)

I like flirting; I think it’s a dying art. Most people automatically link it to sex, whereas it can definitely mean some interesting conversation.

I love it when X pampers me. It’s true. Maybe he is just doing it to get me in a good mood and get me ‘you know where’. But yes it makes me feel wanted, loved. I wish he could open his heart and feel this wondeful feeling of being loved again. And yes, I can’t take a shower without going beet red… you know what lies beneath that phrase X.

I feel sad for Y sometimes. He, being Y, can’t imagine the concept of emotions, people and life changing with time. For him, an emotion expressed at a moment is frozen in eternity. It’s like as you say in Hindi “patthar ki lakeer” (literal meaning- line of stone). How I wish he could see what it feels to be like to change your moods, wants and thoughts as you grow. But then I love indulging in wishful thinking.

I also envy Y. He, being Y, can easily take people for what they are. For him, there are no double meanings to life, what is said is there. The emotion expressed at a moment is frozen in eternity- he can relive it anytime he wants. Fall in love again anytime he wants. But then is it again a wishful thinking?

Sigh! Even honesty doesn’t clear the mind nowadays. Maybe what I really need is the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Any honest directions?

Correspondence

From: iambeautiful<iambeautiful@gmail.com>
Date: Nov 13, 2008 1:36 PM
Subject: How could you?
To: tunawhatcurry@gmail.com

Dear “Fishcurry”,

Not that I want to call you “dear” but unlike you I still believe in politeness. I can’t even say that I was happy to see you at T’s wedding. I was planning to come but then thought maybe you would be too busy to attend family ceremonies (you never care a damn about family get-together do you?). I can never understand how such good people as Ma and Dad (yours) can give birth to such a wild child. I am ashamed to say that you are my sister after what happened last night. How could you? Even though she quite enjoyed meeting my other two exes, I am shattered! And what about this “I haven’t reached that stage yet? What the hell were you girls talking about?

I have spoken to Ma (yours) and she has promised me that she will call you and ask you to say sorry for your behaviour. This is just not done. Dad (yours) is just too busy to pick up my phone and listen to me. And don’t think just because I am writing to you I have forgotten how on Ma and Dad’s (yours) 25th anniversary, you displayed our old family photographs, one having my naked picture in the group! I still get livid thinking about it. It was extremely embarrassing, staring at my naked picture sitting on the potty and showing bum. I have still not forgiven you.

How could you be such a bitch!

Thanks but no thanks

G

From: tunawhatcurry@gmail.com
Date: Nov 13, 2008 2:36 PM
Subject: Re: How could you?
To: iambeautiful

Dear Dear G,

Since you didn’t want to call me “Dear” in the first place, I thought writing it twice will suffice for both of us eh? When did you last have your medical checkup? You should try Zen meditation… will lower you BP (I think you must be having it? Shouting like the way you do?)

You still even remember that 25th anniversary party? You were 2 year old in that pic and all two year old bums look alike. So don’t worry, no one knows except the “family” as you call it. As for how I got into …err… being that will be best answered by Ma and Dad (mine). Although my personal opinion is Dad (mine) will be shocked that a 30 year old still wants a biology lesson. All I can say to help your cause is Ma (mine) had a lot of rumballs when she was pregnant.

Your current girlfriend, apparently is a lot more intelligent than you, and you will be pleased to know one of your exes (that she managed to bump into, I DID NOT push her) is her batch mate. We are going to see some interesting times aren’t we? And don’t worry they only told me that you haven’t gone…err… all the way yet. I think you took those moral science lessons too seriously. Whatever you say I am happy to note that we share the same gene pool and I am always there for you…

Yours truly,

Bitch
P.S. Are you gay by any chance? All hints point to it.… you can tell me. I would love to have a gay brother. It’s “handsome” not “beautiful”.

Aapka bhavishya kya kehta hai? (what's does your future say?)

Some days are happy days … as in everything atleast starts right. You have sex in the morning when you are half sleeping and your other half- bf/husband/whoever is really turned on (wonder what makes them so ‘all for it’ in the morning – bad breaths or the pony tail turned horse’s tail?) and does all the moves on you while you just lie back and enjoy the experience. On reaching office you discover that the boss is on leave and client is in a day long workshop so you can read all those gossip columns and daily astrological predictions- ‘Aapka bhavishya kya kehta hai’ (“Just for fun” you say incase someone catches you reading whether green is luckier than blue for you today).

My day started the opposite way … fought with Y the night before on his super bloated ego (even that’s an understatement I think!), had to deliberately face the wall on the opposite side and sleep (now every girl has her pride and rather kill than thinking of snuggling in the same blanket). Woke up and realized that forgot to remove the kajal, mascara that I had put for the party last night and now had raccoon eyes. I was looking so bad that even if I would have stood, naked, infront of a man eating tiger, he would have refused to eat me up. Was just getting into the train, when cell phone pinged- message from X... was asking me how the War of Roses is going on. Ok, I agree I shouldn’t have dished out the details of my less than perfect ‘other’ relationship to him, but I did… and now I think he enjoys the perverse pleasure of knowing that my road to pleasure has rocks, no boulders on the way. I replied something inconsequential like we are just fine and have not killed each other yet. He, ofcourse, insisted on details. I do have to admit that I like this thing of having platonic relationship with X. We do everything – go out, take nice long evening walks, spend hours discussing everything under the sun, hell, I even dress up for these dates- but we don’t touch. That’s an unsaid No No as we both are trying desperately to squash the lust worm. Sometimes I even think why doesn’t he just go ahead, get a girlfriend and get laid. Maybe that will end it all, I will be too pissed to go out with him (I was always selfish) and that will break the circle.

I reached office earlier than usual and found no one had come in yet. There is something refreshingly exciting in entering an empty office and being the first one to sign the register. I ignored the Economic Times and settled down with a page 3 section. Invariably moved on to checking my horoscope. Not that I believe in them… just for fun you see. Maybe it comes subconsciously from the fact that Ma used to read our fortunes for fun every Sunday from The Sunday Indian Express in the afternoons. (Even now I have this sneaky doubt that she buys Bejan Daruwala’s annual forecasts. Though she never follows them, maybe it is just harmless fun). It did lead to, me, becoming addicted to reading The Sunday Indian Express and even now, when I am in an industry where I read on an average ten papers a day, it is my favourite paper on a Sunday.

Even the horoscope was not with me that day and predicted something that I always knew… my life sucked and will suck if I ‘don’t brace the changes and karmic obligations for a fuller life’. Like what? Run away and settle in Kenya? That’s just geography. Just then super bitch client called and blasted me for using ‘there’ instead of ‘their’ in one of her releases. Inside, I was dying of mortification, how could I do that? This is the mistake even my 5 years old nephew won’t do. I replied, in my best professionally voice I could manage, that it was a silly mistake and will rectify it. Apparently super bitch client was also PMSing and went ahead to say that she is unhappy with the release (without mentioning why) and I have to redo it. Sigh! I wish I could kill her with the phone cord at that moment. I am sure she won’t die even then, she is made of sterner stuff than that and even if she does, she will haunt me the rest of her life.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, called D and told her I am coming over. The day ended with me sitting on fluffy cushions of D’s sofa while she looked dreamily at the ceiling smoking a cigarette and exhaling smoke rings that fascinates me no end. We were already down half bottle of vodka (although I usually add lots of fruit juice and lime to ease my guilty conscious that I am halfway to a drunken euphoria). D shifted her gaze and looked at me in the eyes and said,” So, what is eating you up?” I didn’t have any answers. I guess I am in a limbo. I think all that have is more than enough, and it is in a way, but then what else am I waiting for? Why sometimes the niggling emptiness inside when I lie on my bed night after night? “What difference does it make? I want to enjoy one day at a time”, I said after sometime. She replied with her usual “Hmmm…”

Two hours later (or so I think it was… next morning details were fuzzy) we were rolling on the floor, clutching our stomachs, helpless with laughter watching the silent movie and totally drunk. I never felt better and I was laughing so much that my eyes watered and stomach ached. I thought nothing could burst my bubble and then the cell phone pinged again. It was X (or was it Y? can’t remember, but gauging the reaction from both of them next morning, definitely X. He sounded as cold as Antarctica) asking whether the war was still going on? I typed fuck you in caps and hit send. Later realized it went as duck you. Thought will call him and clarify but then thought its ok… after all duck is also 75% obscene.

Talk to me...

“That feels heavenly, even better than a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning”, I beamed looking at A as I dipped my feet in a tub of warm, soothing, shampoo water. She smiled back and put the tub on ‘vibrating massage’ that is only for people taking the spa pedicure: the advantages of keeping yourself on the good side of your parlourwali. “So, tell me what is happening in your life?” she asked. The combination of an armchair, warm soapy water swirling around your feet may not result in relaxing your feet but it definitely loosens your tongue. No wonder all salons are a hotbed of gossips.

Just as I was going to launch myself into a tirade of complains/ complications (ok, I agree, they are mostly imaginary)/ work bitching, my phone rang. Ma was on the line.

“Hi Ma! What’s up? How come you called in afternoon?”
“Beta, you remember maasi was suppose to come to Mumbai tomorrow, she has some work in passport office in the morning, but she said she may come to meet you in second half. Take her around na a little.”
“Hmm… ok. Will take out to lunch.” I said calculating mentally focusing on my schedule for tomorrow on how to fit in 2-3 hours extra. There was a beep for call waiting and I just check… Mummyji on the other line. I don’t know how… maybe mental telepathy or something, my ma and mother –in-law have this tendency of calling me at the same time, especially when I am enjoying doing some third thing. Sigh!

“Office call ma, will call you later. Love you. Bye!” (telling her that I am hanging up to talk to Mummyji will be close to sacriledge!)

“Paye lagoo Mummyji, kaisi hain aap?”

“Jeete raho beta, I called to say that Richa bhabhi has just had a baby girl.”

I choose to ignore the hidden connotations and say “Hmmph!” Why is it that mothers, mother-in-laws infact any female after the age of 30, if she gets married and has kids, talks only of husbands and kids? I wonder if all women are compulsory sent to a training camp where they are taught ways to harass all women under 30 or anyone who is single/ does not have or wish to have kids/ does not conform to the “auntydom” in general.

If there is such a list, please include my name in the ‘Do not call’ register!

“Beta, I know this is a bit early to ask you people, especially girls nowadays, but let me tell you when we were your age we already had kids, see Richa, shaadi ke ek saal bad hi usne apni saans ko poti ka mooh dikha diya (she has gifted her mom-in-law with a granddaughter after a year itself)”

“Hmmm.” Ok. So Richa has entered the hallowed halls of fame but would I want to do the same? Having a so called “bundle of joy” taking away all the joy out of the life by crying as if the tears will solve the whole world’s water crisis and doing poop and peep as and when it pleases (yes, yes I know you will call me mean, but then I never was gung ho on maternal instincts). No Thank you. I prefer my DINK status.

Anyways, without digressing, I just gave an exasperated look at A and told Mummyji that I was entering a meeting and will call her later.

While the talkathon was going on, A had finished scraping my ankles and making my feet pretty. I have observed that having pretty feet somehow always makes the footwear look good… but unfortunately not vice versa. Maybe that’s way people just blow their fortunes on pedicures. Pedicures to poverty…

For all you people (and there aren’t many) who were wondering about X and Y. Well, X in his own words has gone B2C (Back to Celibacy). Is that suppose to make me feel bad? Well, it does not. I gave him plenty of opportunities to atleast say something, anything, but he didn’t. Now any self respecting woman would never decline marriage for anyone who doesn’t even say anything! But it also doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him. It is the kiss that you miss the most … sex one can find anywhere, but kiss has a different intimacy. What if you just want a kiss? That’s when the heartache starts…

As for Y, he is (surprise, surprise!) turning domesticated. Never thought marriage would be his unwinding. Maybe, he is one of those guy who find security once they marry and mate. Hmmm… maybe.

N just started his blog …pretty cool his first post was. Check it out on this link http://urbanmysticity.blogspot.com/ (and incase N turns out to be familiar…cross your heart N, you won’t tell!)

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?

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!

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.

I Do or Do I?

Wanted: Male, age no bar, but prefer someone who still has hair left on the head, good looking but not vain, no attitude and definitely no chauvinistic tendencies, believes in equalities but chivalrous too, well read and fun loving, not short, well read and a good cook.

Well… this was the list I came up with when my mother asked me what kind of a husband I would want. I agree I am not Aishwarya Rai… quite the opposite infact, but since I was given a choice to say what I wanted in a prospective groom, I made the best possible use of the opportunity.

My mother frowned deeply and expressed her disapproval deeply at the lack of inquiry of whether the groom should be “well settled”, “fair and handsome”, “decent” and most important a “Hindu”. I guess she knew exactly what I was trying to do… discouraging her from broaching the topic of marriage.

When you are an Indian woman and you turn 24, everything around you changes. It starts with your mum meeting your aunties over a casual cup of tea and they innocently enquire “Aap ki beti Mumbai mein hain na? Aur achchi naukri bhi karti hain. Hamaari nazar mein ek ladka hain….”

Next thing you know your mum and dad decide to take out your janam patri (horoscope) from somewhere down below the old trunk and start pondering over it that the daughter has attained the right age … err… “jawan ho gayi hain” and it’s the right time to start searching for a prospective groom.

I screamed in horror when these thoughts were conveyed in a sugar coated voice from my mom and an authoritarian voice from my dad (atleast he was trying his best to sound strict, he knows by now that I have followed his gene pool and hence, will do exactly what I please). But that set me thinking… if they are so adamant on it why not meet a couple of guys and find out? It can’t be that bad and it will keep my folks satisfied.

I met four men in the span of one month and the experiences can themselves be one long story. One of the men seemed more comfortable talking to me on the net than face to face… something related to being used to software professional (!). The other thought why I was telling him that I like reading Saki, when it is a Japanese wine. The third was as boring as it gets (and I guess it was mutual). Infront of the fourth one, well… I farted…

To sum it up if adventures of seeking a groom are what I have experienced, I will gladly stick to living in sin anyday.