Stealing Focus

(BY FAR THE LONGEST POST ON MY BLOG AND I STILL FEEL AS THOUGH I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO DELIVER All THAT I WANTED TO!)

Special Thanks to Karun Jamwal and Jay Shah.

Mom - YOU WIN!

Growing up– if I ever needed some extra money - say a thousand bucks – I had a one point program. I’d simply walk up to my dad, with a make belief excuse (you know like a science project/ notes photocopying/ guitar classes/ web designing course etc etc) and ask him for an irritating figure of 773 bucks. 

This was my golden card. I knew Dad would never bother to come up with the exact amount and would end up rounding it to a neat 1000. Plus, I don’t know why, but I was totally convinced that coming up with a random odd figure such as 743 or 635 – made me sound very genuine. You know, like this is the exact amount I need but if you end up rounding up because you are too lazy to come up with an even  (or, should I say odd) 773 – it’s not my fault!

I was a smartass, I tell you. 

But my theorem used to take a serious hike- if I were to take money from mom.

One Republic to go (NO BANANA PLEASE)

So when Tal, a fellow blogger and one of my most favorite people on the blogging circles asked me to do a guest-post for her (no, she wasn't drunk okay) - I was more than happy to say yes and lap it up.

When (Reality Shows)

One of the after effects of being on a reality show is that you are not a commoner anymore but the truth is that you are not a celebrity either.

To the ones I lost and to the ones who lost me

Albert – He was my classmate. I was all of five and his accented hindi and pretty blue eyes were more than enough for me to share my lunch with him and rescue him from the big bullies in the class. But long before I realised a year flew by and Albert flew back to England. 

Status – I lost him.

P.S. I don’t remember his full name but I do sincerely hope that someday he becomes famous and I look him up the wikepedia and they say that his early childhood was spent in India.  That’d be my first cue!

Nancy – My imaginary best friend in class 4. And Surprise! Surprise! She was a British National too. She was very pretty, popular and spoke with an accent. But soon before I knew my colonial hangover subsided and she had to leave (as imaginary friends can be that way sometimes.) 

Status – I lost her

.

Mrs Gauri– My 5^th grade English teacher- now I was never the brightest of the bulbs in my class- neither did I fit in too well- it was a new school for me. And I am sure you know how dreadful new schools can be? But she was the first teacher who made me realise what it was like to be liked by a teacher. Unlike other classes – for example Maths (which I dreaded more than a chipkali) – I always looked forward to her class. She left such an impact on me – that till date even though I don’t remember much else from 5^th grade. I do remember her – and I miss her. Her husband served in the Indian Army and a year later she left too.
Status- I lost her.

Bijli – My actual best friend –I call her bijli because when we were together we were like a thunderstrike – only she was the light and I was the sound (always late and not that welcome) – she bedazzled everyone and I went by unnoticed. In short she was the pretty one and I was the one who people made friends with to get to the pretty girl. Well, that never really affected our friendship as such for I had made peace with it subconsciously even before I was mature enough to even realise it for myself. The first setback to our friendship was when a teeny tiny sliver of attention paved its way past the phenomenon called bijli- and came to me. Things were never the same again - only because I had managed to steal her thunder.

Status- she lost me.

Abc -Another best friend - A pretty Bong babe who hailed from Kolkata -she was dusky and had mysterious eyes - She must have been a year or two older than me. I met her on a swing set in the local doctor’s compound.I was there because mom had to collect some medicines for my nani and she was there because somebody in her family was suffering from depression.
And I remember this part distinctly because I didn’t know what depression was and she had to explain it to me over and over again and it still hadn’t made much sense to me. Anyway what did we kids know about depression? And we ended up being friends – or so I believed- what I didn’t know back then was that besides giving me the verbal definition of depression abc was going to give me my the first practical on it too. And a decade and more down the line I made the mistake of introducing her to a guy I really really liked and rest they say is history (you are welcome to read between the lines by the way).

Status – she lost me.

MTL (My true love)- Corny right? Relax and be thankful I am not calling him my soulmate ;-) I have not been incredibly lucky love wise either. But this one person changed my whole world- nothing else mattered to me- as long as I knew that he was by my side- like everyone else we too had grand plans for future and stuff- I read his horoscope before mine but what did I know that God was still holding his magnifying glass and I was still his favourite ant. Despite the true love and all – it ended.

Sometimes I shouted, sometimes I cried,

onetime he cheated, onetime I lied,

We both once made tall claims

But in the end - our love died.

Status- we lost each other.

I did not mean to bitch – I did not mean to hurt anyone – I just meant to let it out as I have never once spoken about it before.

(for despite whatever happened- these were the most powerful impacts in my life and I don’t think I’d ever forget any one of these people come what may- I know I highlighted the bad stuff first in some cases – but THAT STILL DOES NOT CHANGE THE FACT THAT THESE PEOPLE HAVE GIVEN ME SOME OF THE BEST MEMORIES OF MY LIFE- and if not for them my life could have been pretty- very – dull. I loved them truly and I know at times they did too – it just did not last L but things happen and we move on.. So it was not my intention to take any one of them on a guilt-trip. These are all wonderful people and I know that sometimes they miss me too!)

SO...

Sex and the Tri-City

This post is strictly and only about the commoners.

Ever since Nirbhaya, the gang rape victim, left us for a better world I have been on the lookout for some sort of a shift in the societal paradigm regarding women and the general attitude towards them. And it may be too soon to speak but I am sensing a change. I can’t speak for rest of the country but I feel somewhat elated to tell you that Chandigarh and the tri-city area sure seem to have learnt a lesson or two.

House hunting is a bitch.

My friend dvd is new in town and is house hunting – and as many of you may already know, I did a lot of house hunting myself last year – so when dvd asked for help I was more than happy to pass on my wisdom –aka The Butt theory – to him.
That no matter what every house on the list will have a but now the only thing we have to see is which of these butts you can put up with.

“What?” he asked confused.

“You’ll know,” I smiled, condescendingly – and here’s how we spent our day one of house hunting -

·        House no.1 - 

      Three bedrooms – fully furnished – AC- Double bed- Fridge- Microwave- Cooking Gas- wifi –“Promise me you won’t get a girl in this house – abhi ke abhi promise karo mujhko.”
Now it’s not that dvd is Hugh Hefner – and would have playmates over all the time -but yes, let’s give him some credit – he can manage to bring a friend or two home for a party or general merriment type things. Poor dvd – looked at me for help – by now uncle ji had placed both his hands in his hands and was fully pressuring him to succumb to the sanctity of the oath and only thing missing from this bollywood court room drama scene was the Bhagwat Geeta.
We ran for life.

Sometimes It's okay to be the last one standing

So your friends kidnap you from your workplace on the pretext of some sort of luncheon emergency and the next thing you know you are lighting a bonfire in a rustic British Cottage near Kasauli.

The Holy Fuck!

O holy brother have mercy on me– for I live in the land of the demented. 

 “She should have taken God’s name and held the hand of one of the men (rapists) and said, ‘I consider you as my brother and said to the other two, ‘Brother I am helpless you are my brother, my religious brother.’”

And while we are at it brother (wink wink)– How about you also sign up for the daily dose of “shit gyan” straight from Shri Asaram himself – it’s for free - Muft! Muft! Muft! You can also like us on facebook by the way!

Oh! But Rachel is in the loo.

So I am in my room – and I am watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S – for a zillionth time.

Which episode?

Doesn’t really matter – I have seen em all a zillion times

So in this particular episode ..........

Will You Let Your Child Access facebook?

I won’t.

I know what must you be thinking? Just two days ago she was whining about not wanting to get married and here she is worried sick about her future children. But don’t blame me. After all I am a Piscean, that too a woman and the ground reality, my friend, is that “WE THINK” and more often than not we can’t keep shut either.

To Aunt, with love.

So, I am in the kitchen - my sleeves rolled up - kneading the dough – which by the way is my least favourite activity of the day. 

It’s 4 degrees outside – I am super cold and my unruly hair strands are coming in the way but I am afraid not to tuck them back lest I get some flour stuck in my hair. So I am continuing the kneading just like that – even though I am really uncomfortable and pretty irritated – and this is when my mom decides to give me a call. Since both my hands are super occupied I let it ring and decide to call her back as and when I am done with the atta. 

But Mom is not able to comprehend my helpless situation and decides to call me yet again- for the second time.

 Now I know such is the sorry state of things in our dear country that if I let two of her calls go unanswered in a row – SHE WOULD FREAK.

“Hi amma,” I reply in a state of complete surrender, helplessly fumbling with my phone in order to set the speaker mode on.

“What hi,” snaps mom, “say Namaste."

“Oho! Mumma,” I reply irritated, “I really don’t have time for this yaar.”

“What is this yaar? Look at the way you speak...."

“acha, I am sorry, what is it?”, I try cutting our heart to heart short – so that we get to business.

“When do you think you will get married?” surprisingly enough she cuts it really really short
(my mother, ladies and gentlemen.)

“What?”

“Roma aunty was here today.”

Oh-no! Not again – I let out a cry – This can mean only one thing – mom must have had a fresh dose of “societal attyachar” and now it is her turn to pass on the burden on to me – the rightful owner.

Now a thing or two about Roma aunty before I proceed any further – she is the self proclaimed bharat matrimony.com  of our clan and even at the risk of knowing that this post is not going to go down too well with a certain people/cousins whatever I am not going to refrain from saying that she derives some kind of sadistic pleasure watching my parents get uneasy. 

And she does it in a very innocent way too.

“flane di kudi got married,” she’d start sharing her saucy anecdotes even before she steps foot in the house. Knowing fully well, how it is going to affect my parents, especially my mom!

And, my poor mom, falls prey to this every time she visits – which in turn means the oh-so-famous “there-is-a-proper-time-and-age –to-get-married” lecture for me three times a day and 21 times a week.

Dear Roma Aunty,

Please let me be – oh no, let me rephrase- please let my poor parents be! I can take you with both hands tied but they are harmless people who don’t deserve this torture from you. Now, I know you are thinking that you only want my well being and wish eternal bliss for me.
But let’s take care of just my career first and shall I get married I will hold on to your card. But until then go spread joy some place else – not my home.

Your loving niece,

Mwah xoxoxoxo

Just for you E

Back in 2007...

It was one of those days when you decide not to dress up for class (the very famous I –dont-have-to-impress-anyone- so-i-am-going-to-look-like-a-patato mode) and then you end up bumping into the cutest guy in college. (Who, by the way- never, I repeat, never shows up for the classes otherwise.)

You are wearing an old pair of denims – so old that they are literally pleading for retirement and your white top- well to say the least- it’s not white anymore- it's creamish yellow and its best days are behind it. 

However, icing on top of this three tired cake of a situation is that ----- because you were in such a hurry that morning----- all you could manage from the huge pile of clothes that once was your closet was a pair of mismatching socks. So you can’t even run and hide as soon as you spot Mr.Cute-pants lest your secret is revealed. You know- the secret of one pink and one green sock.

So all you can anyway do is walk gracefully – well, whatever grace that you can muster at such short notice- and keep walking until you are a teeny tiny dot to him.

Anyway so you get the picture, right? It was an awful day.

I couldn’t feel any less sexy about myself and to make matters worse my best friend was looking like a total pataka – ­which means bombshell by the way. (My apologies for the terminology but what to do I can’t find a better suiting word.) 

So anyway with my face hung low I was sitting at the Library – yeah, because there was no better hideout- not because I am such a scholar.

That is where I met E - this guy who appeared from nowhere - with some pamphlet about Montreal Protocol in his hand.

‘What?’ I made a face, last thing I wanted was to increase my protocol gyan by some geeky chump. The college hunk had literally passed through me – he had not even acknowledged me and here I was stuck with some chashmish – I wanted to die.

‘Read it whenever you feel like,’ he smiled, and left me alone.

I didn’t even bother to look at the pamphlet for a good one hour – it was only when I was about to get up that I realised there was something hand written on the back of the pamphlet. It was a poem and a beautiful one at that. Not because it was a literary genius – but because it was written for me. Somebody had taken out time for me. I welled up right that second.

                                                    Cool Handwriting, no?

After that I tried spotting E in the library but could not locate him there ... rushed out of the library but couldn’t see him there too.. ...and I have been looking since that day... to no avail...

If ever you read this - Thank you E for making me feel sooooooo special and also I am so Sorry that I couldn’t return the gesture.