Monday, May 31, 2010

and it is done

I am sitting in my childhood room, as i am typing this from Delhi 2 days after the wedding is over. Only difference is that now this has become my brother and his wife's room and we are all learning the new norms of opening and closing doors.

The line of privacy is being drawn as you welcome a new person within the intimate folds of the family, and it is not as tough as everyone makes it out to be.

So phew. the BIG FAT INDIAN WEDDING is over. I fly to blore and normalcy in a few hours. did not miss blore much, did not feel i belonged here either, missed a certain someone a lot and the rest paled in comparison. There is oodles to write about what the wedding meant, or did not mean, how badly behaved i was etc etc.. all i know is that this is not the scale, the maddness or the tamasha that i want for mine.. that much i am certain off...

the wedding post mortem from my eyes with the saga n the mystery i shall share later.. but for now it is good just to breathe easy in the knowledge that i have my personal space back again.. what has been up world?

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Blondey does it again! - The jinx is on

Blondey moments and me seem to have a lot in common. Fellow blogger G said this morning that irrespective of anyone else loving me or not, one this is certain that Murphy definitely has a soft corner for me.. List of big goof ups that have happened since i left home a few days ago.

  • Blondey is driving, steering is wobbling. Blondey is scratching head, veering to the side to check the tyre, and believing in simple solutions decides that filling air in them solves all issues. Blondey repeats same remedy on day 1, day 2 and day 3. Parks car at friends place and wakes to the mother of all flats ... yes she refused to recognize a mother of all punctures when it was staring at her in her face.
  • Night before departure- Blondey feeds her 1 and only ATM card to the ATM machine and now is sitting in Delhi counting pennies while the lavish wedding is being conducted!
  • Delhi day 1- Parents decide to have a battle. Blondey the supportive daughter does what she knows best..... Disappears from the scene with the car to eat waffles and ice cream. Blissfully unaware that tension was reaching boiling point at home what with grandmother being untraceable for a few hours and all that and reluctantly agrees to come home 2 hours later.. only to reach the car and see another PUNCTURE!!!!! only this time its worse, the car has a CNG tank and the tyre cant be reached by very "oh my god its so hot, and this is such trash, n i hate this car attitude blondey..."  so she waits fanning herself till the mechanic comes to her rescue..
  • Delhi day 2 - Unmindful of her status of being an aunt and hence a model figure for the younger generation etc etc. she is smoking in the car accompanied by her newly adulted nephew. The things i can get killed for keep increasing with alarming regularity
  • Yell FUCKER!!! loudly as a Delhi driver cuts in front of her.. As soon as the words are out of her mouth she turns to see her 10 year old nephew GRIN at her and she knows she is in for 3 days of blackmail.....
  • The BEST however is still to come. Blondey has been entrusted with old family friends car to drive for the wedding. Blondey loves these people and the little green colored teddybear key chain that has the car keys even more. She puts them in her bag, she thinks, along with the rest of the nonsense that is always there, heads to get a hair cut and threading; walks the dog who then has a fight with another dog while I am chattering on the phone and .... the next thing I know i cant find the keys!.. the silly parlour is shut till tomorrow and a careful inspection of the dog fight has revealed nothing at all...
Hmm the wedding mania is yet to properly commence, maybe i shld get one of those leashes that people hang around the neck and carry everything that I value on me like a dog, seems to be the only thing that may let me survive, with a big muzzle snuggly fitted around my mouth. before i yell "MY ASS" to the wedding priest!

Monday, May 24, 2010

mucho love

There is an inexplicable things called Indian Sangeets, they make no sense most of the time and yet are the most lavishly prepared for indian functions.

If you happen to be a part of a Marwari kind of wannabe family, then it becomes the one time when as my coffee buddy puts it, the girls from good families are allowed to come and strut their stuff on Bollywood numbers and seduce the young men dressed in the finest and make a loud deceleration that they have come of age.

A painful amount of time is spent on getting the love story right, then finding the songs with the appropriate lyrics that make the moment come true, this is made to come to life with well cheorographed songs.

There is something about the matkas and jhatkas of bollywood that my body refuses to get accustomed to and comply with,. but forgetting the seduction or grace of the moves, as i sat there seeing the hosts of neices and nephews come of age, take control of the entire function and bring it to life, i saw years of memories trot by

The girl friends my brother had and we wondered if she would be the one, the trivia that he and i did, the countless sangeets that he and me got ready for fellow sisters and brothers, and the excitement of what to wear as children, the gravity of the moment being eclipsed by the joy of the dancing and singing, the old videos still make me smile

now is morons turn, the brother to sit on the chair and laugh as we all trip over his romance that is now coming to life... sweet it is...the indian sangeet is not about getting it right, it is about the families just enjoying the togetherness of the madness.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

coming home - a mixed bag

The excitement of coming home, turns out has a short shelf life. Everyone who I know who lives outside their parents house have three things in common

  • they truly do love their parents and the support that they get from family
  • they love the idea of spending time with family
  • and EACH of them are tearing their hair out by day 2 of being home!!!
Hahahaa its a classical case of how being home can at the same time evoke so many emotions from nostligia, to relief to having had left, love for the parents, exasperation at their habits, shackles rising at the countless questions, confusion about how to handle conflict and the undercurrents of tension that make being at home about as volatile as a climate change summit

Phew.. so this was day one at home. Alight from the aircraft with the Bimbo sunglasses on to a scorching 45 degrees, Get the prepaid taxi ticket done, stroll the suitcase from the belt and move in heels.. (for some reason was in heels on the flight.,clueless as to where my brain was) towards the taxi standing on spot 16.

En route Man 1 - also a taxi driver wanted to see my ticket and where i stayed as did Man 2, 3, 4 and 5. They all insisted on escorting me to the taxi and having a loong conversation with my driver??? Reason.. None!

Delhi showed me all the cars, the latest fashions and the style statement of how u sit on the back seat while the driver drives u around. If you are cool, you never ever drive. Reached home, Mom sat me down and showed me all her shopping, Dad hovered, the dog was kicked and then the fireworks began. 

In 2 hours flat, the parents had a mother of all fights, I did what i do best left the scene of confrontation in Dad's car, gleefully escaping i caught up with friends only to get a call from home as soon as i met the friend to please return as I was needed to come back, this was followed by cal 5, 6, and 8. Returned to the car in an hour, to see the tyre had a puncture. The car being fitted with CNG, getting the tyre out needed a mechanic. So Blondie waited in 45 degrees for him to come in

Mad traffic, agressive Delhi drivers, and a constantly beeping phone ensured i had a natural Afro in 30 minutes. Came home to the parental cold war, where everyone scurried for individual corners to sulk in. I sat down, took the dog to his favourite chicken shop, came home, read a book and dozed by 9 pm.. its a tactic that has always worked. 

Everything looks better in the morning. Try it!

Friday, May 21, 2010

airport time

I love airports, and by that one statement I guess I have made it obvious that I am not nearly as close to being a chronic traveller as I would secretly aspire to be. The anticipation of waking up in the morning, statring your day at hours otherwise considered inappopate, the long drive in ... always a mental curiosirty regarding the co passenger and then flying home

Sadly the long flights being a hippie traveller have not happened as often as i would like to. but the blore delhi flights have had a history of its own. the first few times that i used to come to blore, it was to be here in ther arms of love, the day before the flight was an emotional concrete mixture with the joy of being together overcast with the reality of the upcoming seperation. the drive there the longest ever, the wait in the parking lot, kissing in the car while reluctantly gettin out luggage, holding back tears and then finally a weepy farewell
someone once told me, that to feel that way was in itself a life bonus and it did not happen very often..;-) I guess so. The first time i flew blore delhi, i had been on a bus travelling non stop from munnar to salem to coimbatore through ooty to get to bangalore, cold and confused, we sat huddled on the bus as an old man sharing the seat with us feigned indiffernce

Memories of a time very dear, memories of a day very close very precious
Wonder why today of all days they get evoked... i leave in a few minutes to attend my brothers wedding and am already crying. I love him and how sorted his life seems to be now, the little me in me wishes that some of the sortment would come my way too.

In the next few days as surrounded by family, old aunts, friends most of whom are my store house of memories, i watch my family grow that much more, i shall stand there and know that the "sorting" of my life is relying only on this one fragile thing called HOPE; mixed maybe with a dash of trust and a sprinkling of faith

Yesterday all day I was like a wound up coil, tense from inside and dont know why. Then read about the continum of life, and the fleetingness of this moment right now... made my insides relax permitting me to life unflod in its own sweet course, in its own sweet will..

all i know is that i need to travel.
the rest is ...........


Thursday, May 20, 2010

sensual senses

As we meandered through the by lanes of Indra Nagar, contemplating the gorgeous rain swept streets our conversations meandered along with the lanes. M had been reading a book called the Science of Senses, and I was overwhelmed by the Museum of Innocence by Omar Pamuk. 

The latter is a book set in Turkey, broadly speaking about a man who falls in love with a 18 year old when he is 30 and at first treats it as a fling, to be forgotten as he gets engaged to his more appropriately positioned sweet heart who was to be his wife. The book was set in 1960's where the virginity of a women was only to be traded for a wedding ring and nothing else. 

Anyway, the 18 year old and he have a love that is bone marrow filling, cruises through the viens makes him mad, so much so that when she ups and leaves without a trace he cannot function. He ends up cancelling his engagement, effectively destroying his fiancee's reputation and then hunts the girl down. Only she is now married. and he of course happens to be her uncle, so under the pretense of being a benefactor, he visits her house and becomes a part of the family for 8 years!!!!!!!!

To make it even more surreal, through out this time, the two of them dont exchange a single meaningful real conversation, all the hidden undercurrents are only shared by looks and reading expressions of each other. Eight years of being around, literally so close yet so far makes him want her more not less ... and in the interim he begins to steal/take little things that she holds and touches to get a sense of proximity he is otherwise denied

As I read the book, i felt immense frustration, a deep desire to slap the man and the women and a reluctant respect for this level of intensity, patience and conviction. For someone who is very direct in conversations, eight years of guess work and reading between lines seemed a waste of time, yet the book had me hooked, i could not put it down

Shall not ruin the ending of the book, but the last line said, let the reader not assume that i was an unhappy man but rather i was one who was immensely happy in spending time just being around her. Pure love? Pure exasperation i dont know. 

M is someone like that, he can pause and slow his world down where things are not rushing him by but he is intensely savouring each moment, with concentration. The simplest things get him shell shocked. there was once a time when he ate a gol-gappa/panipuri/puchka with me on the road, and his eyes became as large as saucers...... REASON.. the confluences of taste of the water was ravishing his mouth

speaking of Ravashing, did u know that lavender as a smell enters ur nostrils makes u incapable of smelling anything for 2-3 minutes, cleans out ur nose and then lets the others smells come in.. so u smell a lot more in instants. or that Chinese believe that the number 4 is symbolic of death and hence buildings have no 4th floor, or if they do its the cheapest real estate??? The cultural quirks that make a city.. 

In yoga school, meal times required us all to be served, wait till we chanted, then thanked the lord and only then eat. This ensured that the instant gobbling that one wanted to do, was curtailed to slowly appreciating the actual food. And CHEWING. the more u chew the less u eat...

There is so much that is happening in moments that its a shame not to notice
unrelated- i HATE packing, i LOVE holidays

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Bangalore is back

Acchoo, and a smile..

Sniffle snifflee.. one sip of the warm coffee and switching on the geyser, in the month of MAY! I looove Bangalore, it is back to being cool and windy, trees are falling, mufflers and jackets are making an appearence and blankets are out.

The skies turn murderous in the evening, the rain has been lashing down, the power going. Candles and rum were what last night was about, with poker chips being used as candle holders, as the cards were dealt and deals made.

There is a smoothness in meeting old friends that is not replaceable by anything or anyone, the comfort one has in that interaction is so stress free that it makes life easy to deal with. Well am now restless the wedding is getting closer and want to be there to be part of the action, want to quickly come back and begin the health and hard work routine and get on with it and then reward myself with a holiday... aaah! all things eventually lead only to a holiday ;-)

I like my life..

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

education or experience?

I consider R to be one of my closest mates in Blore. She is a women of substance with immense life experience below her belt and is someone who has consciously stayed away from the main stream and the rat race.

The above statement implies, that she choose to not undertake a structured route of formal education, learning her way in life from experiences and self reading, as skills she is a photographer, an excellent child counseller, an artist, potter and a crochet designer.

As we sat and spoke I was asking myself the question. What is the importance that I as an individual place on Education? As an Indian, I have been doctrined to believe that education maketh the man, degrees secure your future and the having the name of certain institutes on your resume gives you credibility.


If someone was to tell me that they have graduated from an IIM, I would mentally classify the person with a certain level of intelligence and his/her entry barricades to most commercial opportunities would be easier. But casting the “degree” value aside, what did my education provide me?

These are the degrees that I have.

  • ·         A graduation in B.Com (Hons) from Jesus and Mary College, DU
  • ·         An LL.B from Faculty of Law, DU
  • ·         A certification in Yoga, from Sivananda and Bihar School
  • ·         MBTI accreditation
  • ·         Misc courses in Transaction anaylsis, pranic healing, reiki, some other spiritual courses.

A lot of paper is what the above translates into. In my job today, as a consultant there is no use what so ever of even one of these courses. Yet what the above permits me to do is only ONE thing; lets me gain a semblance of immediate credibility in front of any client that I may be interacting with… But is that enough of a value add given that I spent nearly SEVE N years getting this knowledge? I wonder.

As a teenager, there was no questioning the fact that I would go to college. Amongst the list of givens, that Indian students have a Graduation and a Post Grad are assumed we all shall be doing.  The only choice remains what we choose to graduate in.

Sadly, this too is often not a choice, as much as a cocktail of events ranging from, your marks, the cut offs that the colleges decide, the depth of capitation fee you may be willing to pay, the desperation to secure your future and the commercial viability of the course balanced very lopsidedly against the “passion/desire” to study a particular stream

Result – Often the routes of Higher Education are chosen, not from a sense of ACQUIRING LEARNING, or a pursuit of KNOWLEDGE; but a means to secure a stable future. Perfect, no problem with that at all.
Yet, this attitude somehow ensures that the doctors, or the engineers that come from these colleges, are not driven to really pursue their fields. Recently, governmental medical colleges have made it mandatory for each doctor to spend 2 years in rural projects or pay Rs 2,00,000 and escape, guess what route is being chosen?
What is the point of this blog post? A reflection more than anything else for me to list down what I have got from my education.

- ---     in the Indian context an easier route to establishing credibility
----      7 years of SCREENING- Under the guise of “I am a student” both as a graduate and a law student, I got years to explore and dabble in several activities that today defines me in some manner. It permitted me to read Freud, or to try and understand Keats, to smuggle into the Economics class and appreciate something about Keynes points of view, to enter training and from the tit-bit conversations of people around me expand my threshold of curiousity

But then a nagging question worries me, would I have not sought this out for myself even if I was not in college? I have left formal education 5 years back, 3 of the degrees mentioned above were self acquired for no reason but the desire to do them.

In which case? What is this craze for education/degree gathering about? From my circle of successful  friends and family,  it would be immensely difficult for me to cherry pick even 2 people whose work is linked to the education that they did.

But here is the tricky part, despite intellectually appreciating the above. Would I as a HR manager, hire someone with the correct attitude, maybe even relevant experience but with no graduation certification. Even if I did, would the organization I was hiring for (i) agree to keep him on the rolls and (ii) permit him/her to rise to the highest level within the business.

Maybe not.

But maybe it would be good to survey and see how many of the Ambanis, the Gates, the Bransons, or the Jobs are “educated” in the limited term of being degree holders or how many of them are truly “experienced” in terms of making the world go as per their demands.

Between a well certified college ivy league professional and a person with the most diverse stories of life experiences that are shared in a calm voice by a hastily lit bonfire, I hope I have the wisdom to consistently choose to live with the latter.

Monday, May 17, 2010

little things

When you are with someone one the sweetest moments are the ones with the longest lingering power. Was eating lunch with S yesterday and she was narrating an incident where her financee, got drunk in Honk Kong, came up to where she was dancing with her work colleagues, put his arms in the air, and then proceed to do a tribal dance punjabi version around her yelling "bebe, bebe... ooh bebe.... bebe... ooh bebe... bebe... ooh bebe.. bebe ooh bebe..." 

He then proceeded to do the egyptian dance on the floor and circled another friend, before heading out with his lady love on a walk and falling face first into a Mac Donald guy on the road. As she narrated this incident, we all could not stop laughing our lungs out.. because it was hilarious to hear her complete with actions and the rest of it ... ;-)

made me think that as much as she is turning up her little sweet nose and stating all the nonsense the man is upto it is these small incidents that make u love the person more.. the little things are what maketh the relationship. holding hands while watching a movie, in a room crowded with people known and unknown being able to meet that one person for 2 minutes, and then running back to doing whatever u were upto, being able to call someone for no reason, sharing the silliest dream that made u stare at the ceiling in the night, wrapping yourself in the intimacy of everyday is what the warmth is about...

love is not always the mills and boon kinds
it in the tiniest moments, that you find it

Saw my boss's facebook pictures. He and his wife celebrated 25 years of a married life. The sweetest ceremony ever. They got dressed in simple cotton saree and lungi respectively, light a ceremonial lamp, re took their wedding vows as they circled the lamp in reminder of the wedding they had 25 years ago, surrounded by family and friends. 

Drinks, dinner some photos and simplicity and warm oozed from the hugs, the looks and the smiles. made me smile watching that. the togetherness visible in every gesture. 

content , me

Saturday, May 15, 2010

the funnest game

There are never enough drinking games that one can know. The old world games of truth and dare, strip poker, pscycho, or the one where u have to drink the beer fastest have become lame and not that much fun anymore. 

So it was super refreshing to play 2 brand new games, ok one brand new game and one a refined version of UNO

This is the game. Dont judge before you read the whole thing, is way more fun that way.

Step 1-  Everyone sits in a circle and has a sheet of paper. On the sheet of paper u write one sentence, ANYTHING is ok! and pass it on to the person on the right.. For example the sentences were as varied as - to be or not to be, she hit it with the music, Santa clause will be hit if he gets a bloq job, Lucy got slapped by a monkey... get the drift?

Step 2-- The person has to draw out the sentence that has been written out.  And before passing it to the person on the right has to fold the sentence that was written inititally. So the person now only has the drawing to see...
Example-  Instead of Leena got slapped by a money, he only gets to see some scribble of girl and creature. 
Person writes what he think he sees... Hooker is getting strip searched 
He folds the earlier drawing, now only the sentence is visible and that is passed on further. 

Step 3- The person now draws his interpretation of the sentence.. and so on it carries on..

Once the paper is filled up for everyone, you open the sheet and look at it all. and thats when the laugh riot begins, its hilarious ;-) must try it to see that mad lines and drawings that come up.. wont spoil it by telling all..

Have not laughed till i cried for a while, and yesterday was one such day! 

Friday, May 14, 2010

Snippet time again

Have not written a proper heartfelt entry in a while. Have not got the clear will to write one here right now either, so instead are some snatches of randomness that has been my life and brain for the past few days...

Reading is the next best thing to travelling, if one thing can open your mind it has to be a book that can be well thumbed and read through to reveal the deeper parts of countries, places and people that you have no connection to.. 3 books that I am reading is doing just this for me right now..

First comes - Muesem of Innocence, Omar Pamuk, an effortless narrative from the eyes of a Turkish man, his illicit affair but more than the story is the peek into understanding some of the cultural customs that define the place, the unwritten social norms that are graze u as a tourist but never impact u unless u live it..

Catcher in the Rye- Reread it and after you do you wonder what makes this book so easy to understand, insanely addictive and realitvely ageless? Is it because we all have similar internal rants where everything we do seems utterly meaningless and yet we carry on. or is the listless angst that he seems to be surrounded with the attraction for us all.  

Kundalini Tantra-  A book on spiritual biophysics, if such a term can even be coined that without once preaching into the occult or divine is simply de mystefying simple factual truths about our systems and the latent power of it. Very tough job to keep this simple writing and not get lost into meanderings 

The week has been a roller coaster of the kind that defines life. 

The carpet was ripped from below me on Tuesday, semi replaced on Wednesday and got padding on Thursday. if one thing all this teaches me is something my brother said, roll with the punches

The wedding is drawing closer, know that when i do see my brother getting married, am going to be one of the first few to break down and get all emotional maybe even beating mom to it. its just what weddings do to me, the simple innocent promise of a future the promised land is just to heartrendingly pure that for that moment all you can do it somehow want to close and hold that moment........ love weddings, hate them too

Housefull- saw it and wondered y i did that to myself

and questioned where and what i was doing with my life. In this constant turmoil and chaos, I did one thing right i seem to have returned to spending time with myself and mentally slowing down. Calm is what i am about everything for the now, till the next set of frenzied action commences. 

Thursday, May 13, 2010

is true

Wherever you are, is just fine… You can get to wherever you want to be from wherever you are… It's time to stop measuring where you are in relationship to where anybody else is, the only factor that has anything to do with you, is where you are in relationship with where you want to be.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

spinning around

Yesterday was one of the days that u hate, just when you have set yourself in 5th gear and are cruising along, up comes a breaker that you never saw. The gear box goes kaput and the next destination that you imagined a wishful dream land away...

Went through the usual rounds of oh no not again, why me, this sucks, now what, where am i headed and why etc etc etc, the circle of internal dialogue's coupled with chewing some peoples head endlessly resulted in some clarity and some wisdom.

It made me do one thing new, open my eyes to being a corporate person again, not be that closed that shuttered about this choice. There are 2 ways to live life

A.  You make your dreams and conditions and do all that it takes to make them, work. You plan, strategize, make 5 year goals and work towards making them come true. Its a good way, not the worst way at all, but then everything gets all boxed down and set. Maybe that is the reason i never really, liked the corporate life for the structure it gets though i can see the value of it

B. the other way is the one of going with the flow, the one where you have a plan a hazy idea of the reason u are doing what u are doing, that it is the stepping stone to the next move, but u are open to looking at step 2 and step 3 as well, where basically though there is a basic structure there is a free flow to discovering the new

Am stuck between the two. Think the time has come to make the move to not be that fluid or to give fluidity structure. Tried to make a comprehensive plan for 5 years from now, but ended up tying myself in knots.

Prefer the jugglers trick of the two.. all this spinning around in circles over and over again. Make a call, stop free lancing, get a proper job, make a nest egg, doing anything and then move up the ladder, but you want to be abroad, hmmm so lets see how to get that to happen, but then you cant leave for 2/3 years, but then i want to be a mother in that time.. the world of what if's were back to haunt me.. and so in calmness i remembered my favourite Sunscreen Song

When nothing makes sense, you must be doing something right

The lyrics to Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen, by Mary Schmich:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010


Its one of those days where the Indian ness of India can sap all sense of energy out of you. Its summer, the longest one ever it so seems. The one thing about Blore which was great was the weather and that has gone. Vanished under the merciless sun.

Its become the Delhi I left because I handle heat very badly. Countless summers in Delhi, where your life revolved around pumping water into the tanks, the availabilty of ground water, the relentless heat, complete frustration on the roads, snappy tempers and the forced retreat to being indoors because the heat made it impossible for anything else to happen.....

Blore sadly is going down the same route. The roads are chocked, there is no space for anyone, the cows still wander here and there, the multidude of bikes adds to the chaos, Cauvery water decline has lead to power shortages where everyone is spending more on diesel and invertors than electricity bills, the heat has become intense and the passive nature of the southern lot is going through an enormous change in dealing with these.

To add to it, the BJP governance means that unlike a Delhi or a Mumbai, where at least one has the option of escaping the heat in the evening by getting out, taking a walk being free to eat a late meal the city clamps itself down at 11 pm. There is nothing that you can get after that, almost no food, coke, a drink or even bandaid is a hunt that is concluded at the local hospital.

Often this results in the days work getting pushed to the evening, unless you are lucky to get the power back up to last. Being a cool city in the earlier days, also means that the gadgets to kill heat available across the north are non existent. There are no coolers, mango juices, Rooafsas, the lassis and cucumbers. Instead hot coffee and if you are lucky a few juices do the needful

There is a still a reluctance to use AC's and there is only a hapless reminiscence of  ":Oooh Blore never used to be like this" without any corresponding ability to get up and do something about the changes that are here now. not in some future date place or time..........

So deep is the denial, that people still carry a jacket because earlier the evenings had a tendency to get chilly.

Wake up. The city became rich, IT happened, the influx of people happened.. and u made lots of money.. but guess what.. u lost the city to that migration.... neither good nor bad., it is, time to get moving though. Delhi did it, its possible!

Monday, May 10, 2010

a whole new world

As you sit on the bike and move in the city, you have grudgingly begun to call home the city comes alive in entirely different ways.

The world from the safety of the car, with the Ac on, the soft music and the 4 wheels has a very different feel. On the bike, you are plugged in like a drill machine with no escape from anything that is happening around you.

Bullet Blondie - is a whole new world!!!!

For starters, this world has its own vocabulary, language that goes Boom.. vroom, puttt puuttter, talks about handle bars and the feel of the machine... Each bike is always a girl that has to be taken for a ride, and the love for these beasts more than that for any human species.

The bikers form their own clique on the road . There is a distinct hierarchy that exists which as a car person is news to me. The Yamaha 100 cc is the undisputed king; as its light weight and power permits it to zoom through the teeny tiny allies without an issue. Almost like the Grasshopper in Kungu Fu panda.

The bike ppl speak in action code. A side glance means a race is on, the red lights are to be used only to stare and gaze at the other, and when u need to move in separate ways a tiny wave and a tilt of the head is token enough for the last race that took place..

Its the one AREA where MECHANICS are DEMI GODS! they can rip your machine down, add subtract multiply and divide till the original and the morphed version resemble the Caterpillar and the buttlerfly.. Mechanics are masters in disguise, knowing more about physics than any of the engineers who approach them with folded hands...

Its freedom in a way that cant be mastered in any other form.. As a pillion you can sense it and maybe borrow some of flavor, hope that drops on you but u really cannot claim any of it.. the thrill remains that of the person behind the wheel astride the machine navigating it with flicks of the wrists.. effortlessly easy, impossibly tough ;-)

As a group they are very open, indulging you by opening up and engaging in conversation.. letting you play with the bikes secure in the knowledge that you are a guest a flirtation till you are capable of taming the beast.

but show one move to want to get there, and the solidarity is there for all to see, they wait for u worry about you and always stop when you fall. Get you up and get you moving.

And the best part, is that often you have no idea who the other person is , except he is the man with the bullet.
and so he/she simply belongs

I sat on the weekend. sightseeing my house withe new eyes. Speed breakers got new respect, and mechanics were bowed to. Bullet clubs were gate crashed by me as the sole woman entrant, and they simply smiled.. the cops laughed at enormous fuel tanks and the boy toy sensibilities took over anger and duty. As a women, and a car person, it was like looking into a new world through a key hole. almost understanding mostly just looking at it with "aahh boys eyes"

Till i saw R the she women, do her stuff on her own bullet, and the eyes have a new gleam. its called.. Ahh i want to be one of the boys. Bike Lessons! 2010 this is the mission we claim....

Hehehee.. dont think Dad shall want to be reading this post!

aur phir

I am an indian. Well that is not news to anyone. But as i spend more and more time with people who are not from here but based here, i can see some of the little indian traits that are original to me that appear and dont seem to vanish ever. 

These traits surprise even me. they come in the middle of a conversation and i sit there stumped wondering where this sudden nationalistic spirit has come, given that i am not a jingonistic mera bharat super mahan person. As in i love my country, but am not blinded into seeing only the positives of it.. 

some things that seem embedded to my india dna spirit are:
  • i cant eat with fork and knives and feel like i have eaten, a good meal remains piping hot dal, some veggies and all mashed up with heaps of the chutneys and bhujiya thrown in for good measure. i can appreciate a great salad and a super pasta, but they remain "novelty meals" the khanna has to be the freshly made hot off the pan food that is quintessentially recognizable for the oily mess it is..
  • Cannot understand the ostentatious obsession with mineral water and the need to wash everything with it, bacteria, fungus, cockroaches and mosquitos are all house hold pets and sort of live with you
  • an inherit shyness in displaying affection in public. somewhere there its deeply rooted, holding hands is fine, hugging is fine, kissing on the cheeks, boderline, more than that.. hmm daring but aaaahh aaaaaah makes me go red .........
  • obsession with a tomorrow. ok maybe this is not an indian thing as much as a female thing,. the  need to know where from here it goes
  • reverence for knowing cooking for everyone, everything must be done in a group and i must include everyone in everything. its critical else feels wrong
  • deep attachment to bollywood
  • unbreakable bond to defend the nation even when the attack is justified
  • finding reasons to justify almost any notion about the nation from suicides to the reason we need to yell across the coffee shop
  • Feeling shackles rise when factually true comments about lack of good cheese etc are made. It is true, but even then i feel defensive and have no idea y!
Shobha De once said, you can go anywhere you may choose in the world but the fact that you are Indian is a stamp that you carry with you no matter where you go. There is a undefinable stamp of it that remains no matter where you choose to transport yourself.

its in our accents, in how we define a relationship, in the expectations we have from a spouse, the diya we may want to light in the morning, our immense patience in the hospital to see a doctor and firecracker anger at the red light that makes us honk, in the way we sometimes chat up with the person standing next to us eating chaat, or bite our fingers as we try to figure out what to do with this fancy Pesto bottle we picked up. 

From quoting some Vivekanda when it suits us, while wearing the latest London imported perfume sprinkled on the wrist, how we can ignore the beggar at the car door and not feel remorse and yet feel outraged when we see a man beating another. Its a mystery, a dilema and the things we take for granted are mindboggling the things we seem to accept without a hitch amusing, and yet in all this there is a little gentle soul only wanting to know u a little better, just so he can share his life tale with u... no matter if u dont want to know. 

Saturday, May 8, 2010

the last mile

Am sitting with a coffee, wearing an oversized shirt, eating the first mango of the season as the song Fireflies plays in the background. Warm coffee strains are in the air, there is a mix of work and pleasure that the day promises and in all this is little me sitting and admiring the turns that the world seems to be taking.

Played housewife yesterday, gathering together the rambling mess of the house and the world to consolidate. Am in a tizzy these days cant figure out half the time what to do. Simple things are confusing. So should i buy a dining table for the house and invest in making it pretty, or should i not bother because there may be no need soon.. Should i slap myself for thinking these far fetched thoughts or should I let myself be a girl and make a castle.

There is a foolishness virus that seems to have gotten hold of me. All sense of sense has flown out of the window replaced with a frivolousness........... while paying all my bills yesterday and the diminishing bank balance did little to prevent me from blowing up a whole lot on shopping, net result if my landlord presents a cheque now it shall bounce. The things that i end up doing!

Yesterday closed with meeting GR after ages, he seemed relaxed and happy as we had a coffee. There is something warm about building relationships and being in a city where the vendors begin recognizing you after a time, the ciggie fellow sees you and engages in a conversation, the toaster person willingly breaks a 500 for you, the puckha guy knows automatically that i need that exact level of spice u need.

The sequence of pot holes are familiar to you, and the maid can leave 10 cocunuts in your house. Have to admit that I have become fossilized in Bangalore. There is more that I do know than not know about this city, and more than that there is comfort here...........

Blore is home now. Delhi my "native"
wonder when that happened

Friday, May 7, 2010


Its time to get it moving on. After nearly a month of stitches, and movement restrictions I am feeling healthy, wealthy and able to move around.. Exercise I love you.

A normally routine hater, I see the wisdom in having a routine, and some things that you plug into on a daily basis. That is when you manage to take out time for fitness, for meditation and the gym, I get to return to the gym today and feel the rush of enthusiasm in my body. Feel the pleasure of the muscles as they get into action. The gym membership got delayed for 4 weeks and supplemented by lots of unhealthy lifestyle options.

As I am writing this my maid is standing on my head and telling me tales of how the guard and she have been fighting, how the guards have started called her Kala Motti, Black Fat, that makes no sense and she has slapped him with her slippers, have no clue what and why they are fighting but they are and seems she wants me to take sides in the dispute. I am trying level best to be neutral and not really concerned one way or the other.....

The one kind of people u have to envy are the ones with the high metabolic rate that just seem to get fit in seconds, grr grr. Feels good to wake up at home, clean the place, get into some sort of structure with the day and start getting pieces back that have been lying scattered all over the place for a long time.

To getting the Black berry activated and operational today.


Thursday, May 6, 2010


Today has been a pause day. The body is asking me to stop and pause and not move at all. Since the morning its been one of the incapable of anything but deep sleep and despite 3 hours of sleep can fall back into bed again.

Have come home after 4 days and it feels like something is missing when i am here.
When i am there, the house there seems to be as much home as not
must have been a gyspy before, to be able to slip in to others spaces without much trouble

Met someone very interesting yesterday, this guy spends Rs1000 daily feeding 30 dogs with Chicken Biryani, every evening, He sends his boy to get the stuff packed and each dog on the road knows the time he shall come and start queing up.

Each gets one packet, the rice is devoured and life resumes itself.
such selfless giving is incredible. and happens on street corners without us even being aware
there is much to learn if we only keep your eyes open to all that is taking place

Feel the need to get myself a pet. A dog, but cant till there is some semblance of routine that life becomes used to
Feel the need to retrun to the gym, can and shall when the body permits me too

Yesterday, after ages there was a feeling of relaxation of just smiling and knowing that it is all allright seeping into my bones. Simmering tension of several months began seeping out and was replaced by a its ok, life is fine kinda feeling.

The shoulders is where the tensions stays. always hunched up and tensed
someone told me to just let go and be, not hold on too tight to the what ifs
there is not much we can do to control it in any case
learning the lessons slowly
hoping i dont have a fever
for today its a slllooow day

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

story time - bon Appetite

Bon Appetite

Pen in mid air, she was discussing the merits of the new classification of the hair oil that there were to launch in a week, when the Blackberry rang. Annoyed she looked at the screen.  Darsh calling. Her mute phone vibrated on the table as her juniors discreetly began to peer into their laptops, knowing by her look that this was not going to go well.

Sighing, she excused herself, as she got out of the chair with the vibrating instrument clutched tightly in her hand. Knuckles white with the intensity of the grip, she could feel the blood rushing to her face.  45 seconds is all it had taken. 45 seconds for her focus and clarity to be replaced with rage and uncontrollable irritation.

Even as she hit the green button on the phone, she knew she was going to sound snappish, hassled and nowhere close to the warm person her colleagues and friends knew her as.  True to her word, she didn’t even bother saying “hey” jumping straight to a fatigued “ya” instead.

And Prince charming did not disappoint

Where is the rice? You know it’s the weekend and there is no rice, I have just woken up and am so hungry and there is nothing to eat. What yaar, how can you not have organized something this simple before heading off to the meeting. Pathetic, even the basics are a struggle around you, the person running the house cant even get that much done, what all am I to do, all you care about is work, and that silly hair oil that no one shall buy….….

She did only one thing.  Took the phone in her hand, stared at it, put it on the loudspeaker, took it to the empty meeting room, left it on the table put the do not disturb sign on the door and walked off.  Seeing Flori at the printer she asked her, to hover around the phone and say hmmmm, for fun whenever she felt like it, disconnect the call in exactly 21 minutes and get her back the phone. 

Its ok, Flori was her personal assistant, and they were the gatekeepers of each other’s dirty secrets.

A wicked smile played on her lips. She imagined him raving and ranting. Knew that he could drone on for a long time, at least a quarter of an hour, and that’s when he wanted the apologies to flow. Usually after that it was her que to mouth…Honey I am so sorry, this shall never happen again, or at the very least an emotional atyachar conversation of what this meant for them, where they were, blah blah blah.

She was grinning now. Imagining his voice rising, his frustration making him break the vase on the table as to each shrieked accusation he got a constant “hmmmmm” from Flori. Hahaha, suddenly the day looked interesting as she imagined the hearty laugh Flori and she would have at TGIF over happy hours this evening.

She went back to the meeting, distractedly downloaded instructions to the juniors, her earlier concentration all but forgotten. Grudgingly she mentally acknowledged that she had just ruined their weekend but scoffed at the meek acceptance with which they hurried to assure her that it was not a problem, and they were more than inspired to get this done, the learning would be immense, this is soooo interesting … yada yada yada .

Sheep! New generation sheep is what they were and sheep were reared for delicious evening meals. That is exactly what she was doing to them. ..

She smiled. Thanking them profusely. Told them they were her favorites. Gagged as she saw 1000 watts bulbs go off in their eyes.  The presentation would now be PERFECT!. And for a cruel twitch, informed them that she would be non-contactable the remainder of the weekend.

BITCH. She saw a mental image of Merly Streep from Devil Wears Prada flash in her mind and secretly kicked herself for being suuuuuuuuuuuuuch a good replica! Well Done Girlie.  

She was no push over, no doormat, she was a cold calculating careerholic. Serious Ladder Climber.

As the sheep scurried out of her room, she sat and fiddled with her mouse pad. It was futile, her mind was too scattered to get anything constructive done.  Drawing the menthol ciggie from her bag, she took the lighter and headed for the stair case, half hoping that Shri would be sitting there holding forth over the Sheep Kingdom he seemed to inspire instantaneous fan following for, and half hoping she would be permitted to smoke in peace.

Ah well, beggars can’t be choosers. This job made sworn anti smoking, cancer activists develop chimneys in their chest.  She sniggered as she remembered the first time Flori, had borrowed a cigarette from her.  Poor Flori, the innocent doe eyed creature had become the snarling PMSing Pomeranian in 2 months flat. Well, good for her, atleast she no longer was the targeted personal assistant for the remaining male partners to “accidently” collide into(read as press into her anyhow) at corridors.

Whoa, this is strange. Shri ALONE? Hmm how come?
Hey there, whats up? the sheep-dom decided to abandon the lord and master? She asked.
Oh shut up already he growled.

 Huh? This was unusual, Shri upset? Plonking herself next to him, she silently lit her cigarette and let the smoke uncoil her insides. Smoky silence smoothened both their jangled nerves as she gently nudged him with her elbow.

Kya hua? Itna gussa?

Shri distractedly flung the still lit stub, watching it burn itself to death. He looked at her interlacing his fingers with his and simply said.

Patta Nahin. Don’t know but something is amiss. No its not Prickface partner, this time nor the moaning cow wife, there is something far deeper that is amiss.

Hmm, she said. Not probing further. As much as she liked Shri, today her head was clogged already with everything and she did not have the space for this. Feeling guilty for not being warmer, she pinched herself and said

Oye, drinks 7 pm TGIF? Game?
Ya, whatever when all else fails might as well let the poison prevail……….
All right then, laters.

She dusted her pants, and moved back to the air-conditioned morgue of an office. Sat down and saw the BB sitting innocently on her desk. 5 sms’s it dutifully informed her.

SMS 1-  Darsh
SMS 2-  Darsh
SMS 3-  Darsh
SMS 4-  Airtel
SMS 5-  Darsh.

SMS 1 - Delete unopened
SMS 2-  Delete unopened
SMS 3-  Opened. ………… 1 line- “I regret the day our paths collided” --- Delete
SMS 4-    Airtel- opened and read twice. The only non manipulative sms she would probably get all day
SMS 5-    ……………. Open/delete? She pondered, hesitating. Knowing the tears were moments away.  Oh well, he did send this last and after a time gap, maybe he was apologizing. ……. OPEN. ……. “Don’t expect me to be home waiting for you to return. I am not your wife AND unlike some people I know my place

She flung the phone across the table and fell back in her chair. Bizzare how the world simply carried on as hers insisted on dissolving like the biggest iceberg placed in Africa.  LORD. She was exhausted, tired and needed the luxury to breathe

You have MAIL, the laptop screeched. Ting ting a ting, the BB beeped, the SMS beep following soon after. Arrrrgghhh.

Slamming down the laptop, she switched off her phone, picked up her bags and marched out. Told the receptionist to ask Flori to call her in an hour and to tell everyone else she had left for the day. Entered the lift, sunglasses on, car keys out, she wasted no time on niceties before zooming out of the parking lot.

Fuck this shit, she was not going to let that idiotic man ruin her afternoon. As the female divas crooned in her car, she sang along blasting the men to the dregs of the orbiting satellites of Jupiter.

Much calmer, she switched on her BlackBerry and called Shri.

Hey… listen I am having a fucking rotten day, and the cold chamber was not helping. I just left 15 min back, wanna join me sing the woes away? Been ages since we drank the afternoon off for no good reason

Fuck. You are my angel. Am leaving to, think Prickface has gone to kiss some political ass at the Taj, so as long as we avoid that area am cool. Where do I meet you?

TGIF it was, 4 pm both sat looking at each other through the tallest LIT’s. They knew the rule no serious conversation allowed till drink 1 and drink 2 had been downed.  Slurping the last of the ultimate LIT she sat back, feeling the buzz proceed on its journey from her toes to her insides.

Shri was still all morbid, gloomily staring into his drink with such intensity that she could not help herself but burst out into peals of laughter. Holding the table to keep herself from falling off, she laughed and laughed and Shri’s increasing perplexed look only made her laugh more.

Sooorrry,  sorry, I don’t know why I am laughing, its not you, I am not being insensitive, but hahahaaa, look at us, sad assed progressive 30’s year olds with nothing better to do than drink the tragedies of our lives, We are such losers..

Her laughter and sincerity behind it was so contagious that even Shri loosened up and began smiling.

Ya man, since when did we become the ‘oh my life is so serious’ kinda people. That was supposed to be the old farting pot bellied uncle driving his Maruti, at 35km/hour while we the whiz kids were supposed to zoom by on our high flying speed machines, with delicious artifacts of yummy people strewn in the back seat.
And just look at us now, zooming at 20 from the office cubicle to the mess we call home. .. Pathetic.

To Loosers! They hooted as the next round of drinks arrived at the table, large glasses promising happiness at the end of the straw.

Buzzing contentment, she grabbed her drink, managing to spill half on her shirt. The sticky liquid drenched her shirt, as she half attempted to rescue the mess on her chest. Abandoning the futile effort to clean up, she tossed aside the tissue focusing on slurping down bliss instead.

Shri leaned over, shifting the drinks carefully away. Across the table towards her, he towered over her. Getting closer...

Surprised she looked at him closing in, his arm reaching out towards her. She looked into his eyes, he giving her an amused look, and she smiled.  Her lazy hand of its own motion let its fingers caress his cheek, an impish look trailing her smile.

Shri just smiled at her, as her threw the piece of tissue on her face.

Oh! Tissue.. aaah ….oh .. fuck

Embarrassed to the core, What had she been thinking? GAWD,  she quickly tried to change the mood.

So guess, what my darling Prince Charming’s romantic touch for the day was?

Shri, sat there braced for the onslaught that was to begin. Knowing that behind the twisted story, which would be narrated with some wit and humour there lay a lot of unconcealed pain. He watched her animated face as she gesticulated some hap hazard details about Rice or Food and House.. some crap. The details escaped him, all he knew was that this women was in pain.

A swan. That’s it. He had been trying to fathom what it is that she reminded him of. Traces of the ugly duckling the story he had as a kid came back to him. Something about the duck, not fitting in because she was actually a swan, and then flying off to meet the other swans… a vivid picture of a bird soaring high was all he could remember from his nursery rhyme book, a vivid blue sky and an elated bird.

He smiled, maybe her life ended up that way. But for now she was defiantly role playing as the ugly duck. Picturing her as a quacking duck made him smile.  The aloof cold calculating bitch of a swan she was at work, unapproachable by almost everyone. One ciggie at the staircase and the swan became the nervous insecure girl trying to hold it all together and remain true to herself in a world where only few choices seemed to be hers alone. As for that moron she called a hubbyy…. hahaa

OUCH, STOP THAT! He shrieked as he realized she was literally biting his finger giving him smoldering looks

I am telling you about the absolutefuckingloutely assholic husband of mine and you are laughing? What the fuck is so funny Mr. I have my life all sorted with my cow wife person you?

Uff nothing baba. Just thinking of something. Anyway, so let me get this straight your man has left the house for a rice craving? May be we should buy him a one way ticket to Vietnam, he can get all the rice he wants all the time.

Hahaaa they both went off into one more round. The idea of baboon Darsh, wearing a Vietnamese hat sitting in the middle of a rice paddy field surrounded by the lithe girls all shoving rice in his face was just too much, LIT spluttering from her nose, she imagined him gone.

Saucer Eyed she looked at Shri, almost jumping from her chair. She squealed gibberish with super enthusiasm… bouncing on her chair.

Shriiii…..I am going to leave him. I mean technically he is the one that’s gone.. but I mean for like good he can be gone. Like actually be made to sit in Vietnam eating rice… hahahaa! Wow I can make him Gooo..this is uber cool

What? What the hell are u talking about? What about the marriage, kids, commitment, he is not that bad nonsense you keep muttering about?

Leaping with new fire, she crawled across to his side of the table. Snuggling into the couch, she leaned into his ear and drunk whispered, I know, all that is fine, but Shri, you know he is really a STUPID MAN, like dumb. Cant be with dumb people Shri, they are like donkeys. I am not a donkey, he makes me go numb. I am going to call my travel agent and send him to Vietnam

Shri laughed at her innocent confession. Patted her very drunk head and drew her in with his arm. She snuggled next to him and sleepily drank from her massive glass. By now he could not even remember why he had been sulking, just knew that it was a huge thing that had been bothering him.

Buzzed, warm and amused he tried in vain to restrict her from ordering the next round of drinks. Bulldozed into submission he held her as she drank like a little child drinking her rationed 1 coke a week.

I KNOW! THIS IS WHAT WE SHOULD DO……She leaped from his arms standing straight up, eyes shining, barefoot and gleaming with a brainwave that he knew smelled of DISASTER

Shri, Shri… this is it. Rice that bastard wanted and Rice is what we are going to give him . Please please do this with me….,

Do what? He said very slowly.. this was bad, once before she had gone on revenge mode and man it was mean blood letting

Bending over the table, her pretty ass making for a delicious frame in the corner of his mind she explained her very devious plan.

Laughing inspite himself, he watched her charm the TGIF manager into agreeing to her strange request. As she returned to the table her anticipation was palpable. A tigress waiting to be unleashed.

In 10 minutes 5 waiters came armed with huge takeaway bags. They were so heavy that they needed help to take them to the car. His eyes bulged as he saw the bill. Rs 15000.. where what? They had bought 5000 rupees worth of RICE???

She insisted on swiping Darsh’s add on credit card to clear the bill and half skipped and hopped out of the door. She paused at the door, clanging the TGIF horn madly, giggling at her own madness. He helped miss drunk on high heels into his car, tipping the amused waiters as they placed the bags in the car.

Drunk instructions got them to her place. Thankfully Babboon man’s car was missing, the guard saluted her as she ordered them to get the bags to the house.

They entered the house, she flung her shoes headed to the bar, poured them both stiff drinks, before proceeding to head to the bathroom. Emerging in her shortest shorts, she ripped apart bag one and holding it before him.. waited for him to begin

Shri cocked his eyebrows ..  aah what exactly is the plan your highness?

She did not answer, she did. Took a fistful of the cooked steamed rice and threw it to the ceiling letting it fall all over the beige spotless carpet. DESTROY ….. LETS GIVE THE MAN RICE.

Freaking madness is what the next hour was all about. Dancing to wild music, slugging down the vodka Shri assisted the highness in destroying every inch of the apartment, she had called home till this morning.

Rice was everywhere, starting with his shirt pockets, squashed on his Gucci suit, lining his underwear, carefully worked into his laptop, inside his dvds, in his dvd player, sticky rice coating the pillows, the floor the rugs, the chargers, the remote was left drenched in milk, rice lined the bathroom, one kilo was emptied into the flush, the couch was coated, sleek lamps decorated with rice balls, his playstation and Gautier furniture ruined with her barefoot tribal dance done to smash the rice on which some residue wine was added to get that hint of colour…

The house was destroyed, every corner and inch ripped, trodden and dismantled. Rice; the apartment reeked of it. Looking like a cloud had gifted it with a very special snow storm. In the middle of all this stood the duck swan, in her shorts standing there with the last lump of rice, staring at her wedding picture on the living room wall.

She gingerly walked up to the frame, stood before it stared into it.
Took a handful of rice and made it into goo with her fingers
Delicately almost piously, she smeared his face with rice
With immense concentration, she then coated her bridal picture, covering the entire frame, till nothing but a white mess was left.

She stood staring at that for a while. Turned around and looked at him. Smiled.
Walked to him and hugged him tight, reached up to his ears and whispered
Lets go

As they descended the building, she reached for her BB and sent one text
Dear Darsh……… Bon Appetite