After all the dash of creativity (self assumed) at harakiri, and holding my appraisal letter in hands there is only thought which comes to my mind picked up from my friend’s tag line - The light at the end of the tunnel has been turned off due to inflation and hence budgetary cuts.
Job? Anyone?
Monday, June 09, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
Tagged
I opened my blog after a long time, laziness prevailed and thanks to new “proactiveness” in office, didn’t even read a page forget write one since a month. Discovered I have been tagged grace a manorathan and as this tag goes, I have to write about five people or types of people I absolutely hate. It’s funny really, I have been thinking of people I really hate…as in the dictionary puts in: detest intensely and can’t come up with a single name. I can go with the usual blah blah of hypocrites, liars, egomaniacs (in media industry, every second person is a megalomaniac), but it won’t be true. I feel somewhere along the line I have bits and pieces of all these in me (how much I would like to disagree), so thought why not write about five moments in which I really hated these five people/ things:
My last maid - she couldn’t understand Hindi/English, I knew no word of Bengali, except elementary stuff like jal (pronounced as “jawl”) khabe, chand korbe (no it doesn’t mean staring at the moon at night). I, the ultimate believer that language is a trivial barrier, failed after shouting my throat hoarse that please clean the utensils properly… I broke my record of never firing anyone by saying bye bye to her within a month. Much to my chagrin, she perfectly understood the meaning of salary, holiday and no work today in Hindi… grr grr…
Bandhs – This no one can understand except the Bangla bandhus of Kolkata. On everything there is a bandh – a strike. It is as if these people have found an ingenious way of adding to all their holidays the government and the private firms took away in the name of productivity and efficiency. Oh! it doesn’t matter at all if someone’s life depended on reaching somewhere. These people take their bandhs very seriously- afterall, what is one man’s sacrifice in the name of the greater good?
Moi – Ofcourse how can I leave myself? After all good is boring and bad is in, so shall we make a count of all things I vowed never to do? One, two, three? Never to lie, never to cheat, never to have fooled around before marriage as ma says (naughty naughty), never to be confused and never to be greedy in the seven sins of life. Well, Mr. Bond, should have seriously followed your lesson – ‘Never say never again’.
Philips Kotler – I should begin with a disclaimer here (for the peace of mind of all MBA ‘jargonized’ civilization and aspiring ones – for there are many) that I intend to no way criticize the work of esteemed Mr. Kotler. After all, how can I, when (thanks to you) hundreds weedle their way out of squeamish interviews on ‘essence of branding and marketing’ to fat salaries using the great words like ‘4Ps, inflection vector, fragmentation’. For me the best use of ‘Marketing Management’ by Philip Kotler has been when I hit the heavy book on Y’s head in anger during one of our fights, and he almost fainted :)
Auntyji – this goes to all aunties of mine- fat, tall, short, slim, beautiful or ugly. The skin is just the covering as my next door sadhu baba would say. He is also into nude therapy (couldn’t stop myself from adding that part). Inside they are all the same. I wonder how can someone go into a mindless loop of when is someone getting married, who is having how many children and the most irritating of all, who is killing who in those twisted saas- bahu sagas. Although it also makes me wonder where is the missing link? Which DNA strand got twisted along the line to make us so susceptible to enjoying perverse emotions?
My last maid - she couldn’t understand Hindi/English, I knew no word of Bengali, except elementary stuff like jal (pronounced as “jawl”) khabe, chand korbe (no it doesn’t mean staring at the moon at night). I, the ultimate believer that language is a trivial barrier, failed after shouting my throat hoarse that please clean the utensils properly… I broke my record of never firing anyone by saying bye bye to her within a month. Much to my chagrin, she perfectly understood the meaning of salary, holiday and no work today in Hindi… grr grr…
Bandhs – This no one can understand except the Bangla bandhus of Kolkata. On everything there is a bandh – a strike. It is as if these people have found an ingenious way of adding to all their holidays the government and the private firms took away in the name of productivity and efficiency. Oh! it doesn’t matter at all if someone’s life depended on reaching somewhere. These people take their bandhs very seriously- afterall, what is one man’s sacrifice in the name of the greater good?
Moi – Ofcourse how can I leave myself? After all good is boring and bad is in, so shall we make a count of all things I vowed never to do? One, two, three? Never to lie, never to cheat, never to have fooled around before marriage as ma says (naughty naughty), never to be confused and never to be greedy in the seven sins of life. Well, Mr. Bond, should have seriously followed your lesson – ‘Never say never again’.
Philips Kotler – I should begin with a disclaimer here (for the peace of mind of all MBA ‘jargonized’ civilization and aspiring ones – for there are many) that I intend to no way criticize the work of esteemed Mr. Kotler. After all, how can I, when (thanks to you) hundreds weedle their way out of squeamish interviews on ‘essence of branding and marketing’ to fat salaries using the great words like ‘4Ps, inflection vector, fragmentation’. For me the best use of ‘Marketing Management’ by Philip Kotler has been when I hit the heavy book on Y’s head in anger during one of our fights, and he almost fainted :)
Auntyji – this goes to all aunties of mine- fat, tall, short, slim, beautiful or ugly. The skin is just the covering as my next door sadhu baba would say. He is also into nude therapy (couldn’t stop myself from adding that part). Inside they are all the same. I wonder how can someone go into a mindless loop of when is someone getting married, who is having how many children and the most irritating of all, who is killing who in those twisted saas- bahu sagas. Although it also makes me wonder where is the missing link? Which DNA strand got twisted along the line to make us so susceptible to enjoying perverse emotions?
Thursday, April 03, 2008
HaraKiri
Tired of all that bullshit I wrote till last year on my performance appraisals... I wrote this...
---starts---
I have become an octopus with eight hands for my clients. Also handling clients like A (can't give their names, they will kill me kill bill style), I have developed immense sense of nirvana as that’s the only way to go without going mad. You learn to handle high volume of work, unrealistic expectation, doing work of three people single handedly (now I know what Zen said about everything is possible, you just have to expand the capacity of your mind), engage clients when they have a pre conceived agenda of bashing you left right and centre (must have fought with their spouses early in the morning). With B(another one...) you learn to make plans on plans which are derived from another plan as for even talking to someone you need to plan the talking points, FAQs, brief history and geography as well. Your phone never stops ringing and you actually forget about your husband (I hope you don’t communicate that to him). Lastly, after doing all this, at the end of the day, you are still alive and have the capacity to take on a crisis that happens in a nincompoop place somewhere interior of UP and you handle it. Phew! For the sheer capability of it… I think I deserve a promotion and a raise.
P.S. I have logic for a promotion and a raise, after honing myself to such a position, it is impossible to return to normal life. Rather have more than less. I hope I also get some extra points for creativity.
--- ends---
I hope they too have my twisted sense of humour. Incase, not, does someone, anyone has an interesting job for me out there?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
SexyKnees.com
This is not a link to kinky site (all you perverted oldies out there you), not a fashion site, not even a site dedicated to arthritis where they give tips on how to relieve knee pain and make them look sexy again. This is just an account of a girl who has just realized that she is really low on all the moral values ma taught (sorry ma, but I really was never made out of sati savitri material) and has just discovered the best function of knees—how they turn into jelly when you are being kissed. There are guilty pleasures everyone has, some secretly enjoy all those bitchy and regressive saans bahu serials, some enjoy kinky sex, some like reading M&B novels on the sly (mostly men who sneak with one from their wives enroute the loo). Mine is being kissed, by X. It gives me goosebumps, prickles my skin, gets my hormones racing and most important gives me jelly knees. He may be a bad lover but he is a good kisser.
I missed it so much with you Y, why the hell don’t you just take me in your arms and give me sexy knees again?
I missed it so much with you Y, why the hell don’t you just take me in your arms and give me sexy knees again?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Rewind and Undo
I stared out of the train, feeling the wind on my face. X always says it is because that moment when we are pushing our way towards the door and hanging precariously, half inside half outside, it gives us our personal space in this crowded rush of Mumbai. I was fascinated by the reason but for me it was something different. I stared, sometimes with radio plugged in (thanks to my technology savvy uncle who was utterly disgusted my by old fashioned mobile, which would have made a better object to hit someone rather than to be used for talking), to see if anything ever changes in this city. Many people have written about this city, fortunes made and lost, history made or plainly the powerful effect of Mumbai. I travel the same stretch of harbour line everyday, twice and see the same vashi creek (it looks better in winters as lots of birds flock in), sometimes greyer than usual because of the filth floating in it, followed by the mangroves or what is left of it, after the land has been filled up to accommodate the ever growing population of Mumbai. Sometimes the people who enter the coaches from different stations also seem same. They even smile at me as they get in. But mostly it makes me think of where I am going? Whether anything ever will change at all? I may move to Kolkata in April, but that’s just geography. A beep of message jerked me back to reality. It was Y asking me when I will be back…
I wonder why so many people stay together in marriages or in a long relationship? Is it because one it is done, there is so much to undo that it is better left as it is? Being together and still behaving as if strangers. If each one of us was given a chance to undo our past, what all we would have done to be back where we were? Sometimes I envy Y, his needs are simple… atleast it seems so. Food, game on PS2, whatever is in front of him at that moment and work. Love, affection and loyalty are taken for granted. I wonder if he wonders. I know X wonders (I would give anything to take a sneak peak into his mind). In the meantime, I have moved ahead, no more sideways. And I feel things going away, moving apart… like the big bang theory but it is so slow that you can’t see. You can just feel it.
How come our parents never seemed so shaky? They never fought, never had multiple lovers, always remained loyal and did the right thing (ok, ok I know they where not saints, but then they were ‘parents’). I want to erase my past, my present and feel the fresh, untainted love again, but even if I could undo, I think most probably, it would drive me out of my mind.
I wonder why so many people stay together in marriages or in a long relationship? Is it because one it is done, there is so much to undo that it is better left as it is? Being together and still behaving as if strangers. If each one of us was given a chance to undo our past, what all we would have done to be back where we were? Sometimes I envy Y, his needs are simple… atleast it seems so. Food, game on PS2, whatever is in front of him at that moment and work. Love, affection and loyalty are taken for granted. I wonder if he wonders. I know X wonders (I would give anything to take a sneak peak into his mind). In the meantime, I have moved ahead, no more sideways. And I feel things going away, moving apart… like the big bang theory but it is so slow that you can’t see. You can just feel it.
How come our parents never seemed so shaky? They never fought, never had multiple lovers, always remained loyal and did the right thing (ok, ok I know they where not saints, but then they were ‘parents’). I want to erase my past, my present and feel the fresh, untainted love again, but even if I could undo, I think most probably, it would drive me out of my mind.
Monday, January 28, 2008
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!)
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!)
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Safety Net
It was a Sunday afternoon and I was doing what I do best- reading newspapers. One of the side effects of working in public relations industry- can’t function without reading newspapers now. All newspapers had carried a report that day which calculated that if you take an average, a woman has been raped in every half hour in India since 1977. Shocking statistic. It also disturbed me more since I too belong to the same category – of being a woman.
Molestation, rape, murder, harassment – a paper won’t be complete without any news related to these or better, if a news on each, but that’s different story altogether. What bothered me most was if these numbers were true, we, as women, are indeed in much more trouble than we think. Why is this happening? Who is responsible for this? I can almost visualize all my female friends and colleagues blaming all the psychos, perverts, and men who think they are god’s gift to women. Are all men wolves and monsters? I don’t think so. There are enough nice men out there to support my statement (some of them we wish would do something without asking us first!).Blaming just men may not be an accurate answer. Convenient maybe, but a half truth still. Being completely honest to myself, I think somewhere along the line we as women have faltered too.
Imagine, one day when you wake up and find your husband/ brother/father doing the housework that usually you do or see your mothers do. What will you first think? (‘Wow!’ may come second or third on the list). Most common will be wondering to oneself “Is everything all right?” Some of you may even feel uncomfortable with the whole scenario. Doesn’t suit the conventional image right? There are some women who have families that divide the responsibilities equally, but then we are not talking about those. They are few and far between. Most of us have been bought up in a way where our fathers, brothers, chachas and alike have taken care of things unpleasant and unsafe. Being brought up in a smaller town I remember, for all late night parties (mostly birthday parties of friends. Discos and pubs are still unheard of and visited by girls who are ‘loose’ in character. Even the definition of ‘late night’ differs – nine or ten at night were considered extremely late for visiting anyone), we were dropped and picked up by papa or bhaiya. Sometimes little sister would also beg to accompany and mummy would (horror of horrors) comply and send her along… (better two than one … “you will be coming by 9:30 beta”). Ofcourse this sounds funny when one is living in Mumbai but 90% percent of India is still suffering this. We never protested, or rather were not given a chance to object. Never even thought there is anything wrong in this. They are just taking care of us aren’t they? How many of you women out there, even the self proclaimed ‘modern’ ones think that they can manage any situation by themselves? Hardly few. When we ourselves are not confident with our capabilities of self help, why blame others for taking advantage of it?
Let me give you a clearer example… two weeks back when I was traveling from home to office in a local train, a drunkard got in at one of the stations. Now local trains in Mumbai have demarcated compartments for convenience of passengers – men and women have separate compartments and men are not allowed to travel in the women compartments and most women follow the rule vice versa. Now I was travelling in a ladies first class compartment with around 30 more fellow passengers. The drunkard’s unwelcome arrival was greeted with horrified expressions and exchanged glances. Some women moved away from him. But that’s all. No one came forward and told him to go get lost. Finally three women came forward and shooed him off the train. What gave the drunkard so much courage to get on a compartment full of women? If all 30 of them would have come forward, I am sure he would have the guts to enter. Why do we expect some policeman or some male passenger in the adjoining compartment to bail us out in situations like these? Aren’t we strong enough? If a man has ever eve-teased you, have you ever gone back and shouted at him? If you have, then you know he would have most probably been shocked and then scared by your bold reaction. By not reacting, aren’t we passively encouraging people to take advantage of us? We are our self help, our own safety net and as Kiran Bedi puts it “Self Police”. I am not making excuses for male vile behaviour but at the same time, if we are self victimizing, we have no right to call them the offenders.
There is no place safe enough, no relationship secure enough and no attacker strong enough. We are own help. The day we start believing no one can touch us, no one will.
Molestation, rape, murder, harassment – a paper won’t be complete without any news related to these or better, if a news on each, but that’s different story altogether. What bothered me most was if these numbers were true, we, as women, are indeed in much more trouble than we think. Why is this happening? Who is responsible for this? I can almost visualize all my female friends and colleagues blaming all the psychos, perverts, and men who think they are god’s gift to women. Are all men wolves and monsters? I don’t think so. There are enough nice men out there to support my statement (some of them we wish would do something without asking us first!).Blaming just men may not be an accurate answer. Convenient maybe, but a half truth still. Being completely honest to myself, I think somewhere along the line we as women have faltered too.
Imagine, one day when you wake up and find your husband/ brother/father doing the housework that usually you do or see your mothers do. What will you first think? (‘Wow!’ may come second or third on the list). Most common will be wondering to oneself “Is everything all right?” Some of you may even feel uncomfortable with the whole scenario. Doesn’t suit the conventional image right? There are some women who have families that divide the responsibilities equally, but then we are not talking about those. They are few and far between. Most of us have been bought up in a way where our fathers, brothers, chachas and alike have taken care of things unpleasant and unsafe. Being brought up in a smaller town I remember, for all late night parties (mostly birthday parties of friends. Discos and pubs are still unheard of and visited by girls who are ‘loose’ in character. Even the definition of ‘late night’ differs – nine or ten at night were considered extremely late for visiting anyone), we were dropped and picked up by papa or bhaiya. Sometimes little sister would also beg to accompany and mummy would (horror of horrors) comply and send her along… (better two than one … “you will be coming by 9:30 beta”). Ofcourse this sounds funny when one is living in Mumbai but 90% percent of India is still suffering this. We never protested, or rather were not given a chance to object. Never even thought there is anything wrong in this. They are just taking care of us aren’t they? How many of you women out there, even the self proclaimed ‘modern’ ones think that they can manage any situation by themselves? Hardly few. When we ourselves are not confident with our capabilities of self help, why blame others for taking advantage of it?
Let me give you a clearer example… two weeks back when I was traveling from home to office in a local train, a drunkard got in at one of the stations. Now local trains in Mumbai have demarcated compartments for convenience of passengers – men and women have separate compartments and men are not allowed to travel in the women compartments and most women follow the rule vice versa. Now I was travelling in a ladies first class compartment with around 30 more fellow passengers. The drunkard’s unwelcome arrival was greeted with horrified expressions and exchanged glances. Some women moved away from him. But that’s all. No one came forward and told him to go get lost. Finally three women came forward and shooed him off the train. What gave the drunkard so much courage to get on a compartment full of women? If all 30 of them would have come forward, I am sure he would have the guts to enter. Why do we expect some policeman or some male passenger in the adjoining compartment to bail us out in situations like these? Aren’t we strong enough? If a man has ever eve-teased you, have you ever gone back and shouted at him? If you have, then you know he would have most probably been shocked and then scared by your bold reaction. By not reacting, aren’t we passively encouraging people to take advantage of us? We are our self help, our own safety net and as Kiran Bedi puts it “Self Police”. I am not making excuses for male vile behaviour but at the same time, if we are self victimizing, we have no right to call them the offenders.
There is no place safe enough, no relationship secure enough and no attacker strong enough. We are own help. The day we start believing no one can touch us, no one will.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Ear to Ear
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!
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!
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.
Friday, December 08, 2006
Resolutions
It’s that time of the year again…
Since moving to Mumbai nearly 4 years ago, every year come December, I start feeling gloomy. Most of the year, I am thankful for all that happens in my life (and also all that doesn’t). But as the year ends and people around me start writing on or discussing the year that was, I realize I have not stuck to a single resolution I had made the previous year (sigh!). That makes me quite sad L
For me, the word ‘resolution’ looks more like ‘re – solution’, to realize that you are back at square one at the beginning or rather than at the end of 12 months of thinking … “This year I will really get rid of these things/ men/ junk/ job”. So, its time to make one more solution – re-solution in (futile) hope that the coming year will magically do away with all the things that I want but what may not be good for me.
I am thinking about what Oscar Wilde said in Lady Windermere’s Fan that we are all in gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars (gutter takes a very relevant meaning in Mumbai). A quick round asking for resolutions quickly confirmed that some of us do have resolves to reach the stars (or alternatively, go for vacations), eat less, come on time, try not to murder their in-laws, have babies…. Since the list is pretty long, I thought why not share the top 3 resolutions that everyone aspires to keep (and towards the year end we can always say ‘it is the effort that counts’)
“I will loose weight” – contrary to the articles I read almost daily in lifestyle sections of newspapers accusing models and actresses of anorexia, most of the people around me (including me) complain of excess weight. We spend whatever time we get day dreaming (sometimes even night dreaming) of how nice it would be if we could fit into all the fancy clothing that looks like it would have fitted my 10 years younger clone (and I am not old). If only exercise was a pill!
“I will go to….” – Bora Bora, Singapore, Dubai, USA, London, Turkey or Titwala… we all resolve that in the year ahead, we will strike a balance in our lives. That means going on vacations, visiting friends, spending more time with pets, family, boyfriend, husband, wife (not necessarily in that order), doing the personal bit of CSR (we always get inspired to do when we read about someone making a difference). But how much of it will we actually achieve? Ofcourse, there is always the phrase we fall back on … “I wish my day had 36 hours!”
“I will learn to say NO…” – No is a very powerful word. I learnt it when in my primary classes I always confused it with ‘know’ and that had serious repercussions (serious according to my mom) in my report card with red mark. It can have different connotations. It can be a powerful and emphatic ‘no’ or a soft ‘no’ or a ‘no’ when we actually mean ‘yes’. Frequently it means ‘No’ to extra work coming your way, veggies you are forced to eat, endless follow-ups that never seem to end, to parents, in-laws, nuclear weapons, pollution, acne… without feeling the sense of discomfort we always do!
For those, who are still to make their lists, let me leave some food for thought for the year ahead… When was the last you did something for the first time?
Since moving to Mumbai nearly 4 years ago, every year come December, I start feeling gloomy. Most of the year, I am thankful for all that happens in my life (and also all that doesn’t). But as the year ends and people around me start writing on or discussing the year that was, I realize I have not stuck to a single resolution I had made the previous year (sigh!). That makes me quite sad L
For me, the word ‘resolution’ looks more like ‘re – solution’, to realize that you are back at square one at the beginning or rather than at the end of 12 months of thinking … “This year I will really get rid of these things/ men/ junk/ job”. So, its time to make one more solution – re-solution in (futile) hope that the coming year will magically do away with all the things that I want but what may not be good for me.
I am thinking about what Oscar Wilde said in Lady Windermere’s Fan that we are all in gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars (gutter takes a very relevant meaning in Mumbai). A quick round asking for resolutions quickly confirmed that some of us do have resolves to reach the stars (or alternatively, go for vacations), eat less, come on time, try not to murder their in-laws, have babies…. Since the list is pretty long, I thought why not share the top 3 resolutions that everyone aspires to keep (and towards the year end we can always say ‘it is the effort that counts’)
“I will loose weight” – contrary to the articles I read almost daily in lifestyle sections of newspapers accusing models and actresses of anorexia, most of the people around me (including me) complain of excess weight. We spend whatever time we get day dreaming (sometimes even night dreaming) of how nice it would be if we could fit into all the fancy clothing that looks like it would have fitted my 10 years younger clone (and I am not old). If only exercise was a pill!
“I will go to….” – Bora Bora, Singapore, Dubai, USA, London, Turkey or Titwala… we all resolve that in the year ahead, we will strike a balance in our lives. That means going on vacations, visiting friends, spending more time with pets, family, boyfriend, husband, wife (not necessarily in that order), doing the personal bit of CSR (we always get inspired to do when we read about someone making a difference). But how much of it will we actually achieve? Ofcourse, there is always the phrase we fall back on … “I wish my day had 36 hours!”
“I will learn to say NO…” – No is a very powerful word. I learnt it when in my primary classes I always confused it with ‘know’ and that had serious repercussions (serious according to my mom) in my report card with red mark. It can have different connotations. It can be a powerful and emphatic ‘no’ or a soft ‘no’ or a ‘no’ when we actually mean ‘yes’. Frequently it means ‘No’ to extra work coming your way, veggies you are forced to eat, endless follow-ups that never seem to end, to parents, in-laws, nuclear weapons, pollution, acne… without feeling the sense of discomfort we always do!
For those, who are still to make their lists, let me leave some food for thought for the year ahead… When was the last you did something for the first time?
Friday, November 03, 2006
Men's Top 5
“You always write something negative about men!”
“Well, as they say, I am free of all prejudice, I hate everyone equally,” came the cheeky reply.
“Do you, really?”
“Hmmm… I don’t know. Actually, no, but finding something really nice to write about them is difficult. I will try. I am not a feminist but then I am not conventional either, so that leaves me plenty of grey area to exercise on.”
“Come on! You are not being fair. There is plenty to admire them for.”
“The world is never fair and you are a man, so naturally, you will defend your case.”
“Tell me... you will prove it yourself… just tell me five things you like or admire in men”
“That’s too much to ask! Five things! Here I am struggling to think even one. But, yes let me think. It will be fun!”
“So?”
“Hmmm… Ok here it is (although with the disclaimer that even if what I write is true, no man will ever admit it, except for exceptions but that will make them exceptions to my theory as well). The 5 things I admire in men that I may never be able to do.”
1. Vanity Fair
Isn’t it amazing that when men pursue women, their bosses, their friends coming from abroad… they go all out? No woman will even think of spending a fortune on a man taking him to all the expensive wining dining experience and showering him with gifts (even though this is a highly temporary phenomena), just to make herself look good in his eyes. Na, she is too practical (and wise) for that.
2. Moral Obligations
All men have good intentions. Especially, if it is towards the woman they love and want to marry (not necessarily in that order). They know what is good for them and for her. There goodwill will spill over to all areas in her life… friends, relatives, what to wear (even more important, what not to wear), books, career, friends, relatives… oh I just realized that I am repeating myself… it can get very boring. Now you can’t accuse them of forgetting to ask what you think is good for yourself right? Afterall, that’s something a benevolent dictator will never do.
3. How flexible and easy to change they are
Now ladies, before you start shouting in protests, let me explain things a little. You see, there is a very big clause attached to it. The condition should be suitable and that includes unlimited supple of … err… alcohol. Your shrek will turn into a prince charming and will hang on to your words and even shower you with love and attention post the chemical reactions taking place with just barley water (aka beer). Maybe, Matt Groening knew what he was saying when he wrote, “To alcohol! The cause of, and the solution to, all problems of life”.
4. Respect your parents always
Sigh! His mom always did everything better. I wish I had the same devotion. Really!!
5. Optimum utilization
When you have to study how to use a resource optimally, there is no better example than the way men use their memory. We sometimes crib of their ‘selective amnesia’ but tell me which woman, if she wanted to, can forget dates (especially if it’s a birthday, an anniversary, the day you have to meet the parents, grocery shopping, well… it can go on and on). It’s absolutely fascinating to see how men can pull this off so well without any side effects (lets say … guilt?). It will take me years to master this and I can still not guarantee success.
“So what do you think?”
“ACs and women, never have been able to understand them!”
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Somethings to hate
I hate it when you shout at me, for all the small small things
I hate it, in my eyes, the tears you bring
I hate when you at times you just want to play alone, in your own dreamland alone
I hate it when you don’t want to talk and ask what’s been happening with me, even though when we are in the same house
I hate it when I know that I am equally at fault
I hate it when I realize that, in practice, I have forgotten all about men that my ma taught, or may be I don’t want to practice after all
But what I hate the most is all these years I loved you still
I hate it that in somewhere inside me I always will.
I hate it, in my eyes, the tears you bring
I hate when you at times you just want to play alone, in your own dreamland alone
I hate it when you don’t want to talk and ask what’s been happening with me, even though when we are in the same house
I hate it when I know that I am equally at fault
I hate it when I realize that, in practice, I have forgotten all about men that my ma taught, or may be I don’t want to practice after all
But what I hate the most is all these years I loved you still
I hate it that in somewhere inside me I always will.
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