not necessarily blue

Its been long but not all is lost in the blog world for me yet. Time has somehow shrunk itself in a way that 24 hours pass in about just five. The world has grown noisier, less meaningful just when I landed what I wanted.

People have stopped making much sense, and this isnt superiority complex speaking. Infact, never felt more humbled than now. With super seniors in the field around you, nothing you do matches up and striving hard is just an understatement. But these are the learning years and am not complaining. If anything, zen teachings have made their mark on me in a way that I am not threatened or concerned. I am good.

This year has started on a note that is too dear to my heart. I have realised just how much I like being around my family. The carefree, bohemian, humorous side of things just erupt from within naturally, without any effort. I really miss having them all together. But that in itself, is a mirage now. An oasis at times, but a mirage mostly.

Giving your heart to someone is a good thing, you get back so many things in lieu of it. What hurts, is that small part of you that has to be neatly tucked away. You cant bring it up a lot, it becomes an itch that soon becomes sore. And then, healing takes time. Who am I kidding? There is no such thing as healing, only momentarily forgetting.

But now, what I miss, is not even there. No home, no friends. The place I called home was never that. The friends were a group, who are now friends to each other, not me. Std phone calls are clearly not how friendships are preserved.

But I still wish; to have voted for Kejriwal, to have been there this winter, wearing too many layers, to have smoked in the fog with the three of them or just sat inside the car at India Gate sipping a cup of tea, to be able to gift friends gifts that weren't bought online. To just be under the blanket with dad, watching an old Suchitra Sen film.

So much has changed, I don’t recognise myself.

a book-warm affair

there are tons of things that i wish to write but havent had the time to. ok, change 'time' to 'zeal'. i am becoming a lazy 28 year old, both the terms i confess i dont fancy much. thought would write about my birthday, thought i would write about the fondest feelings i have for Dada on his birthday, thought of writing my travelogues on greece and italy. so much but zilch i have done.

partly because i like procrastinating more than anything else in the world and partly because i have been obsessing over a HBO show: Game of Thrones. i know it started way back in 2011 but hey, better late than never and all that? so, i saw this major backlash on twitter a month or so back about some murder on the show. a 'massacre' was how it was trending. curious, i searched a bit on the internet, found more interesting stuff and finally asked him to download the show for me.

as usual, late into the night, we sat over hot cups of milk and cookies with an open laptop. i double clicked the first episode of the first season and the opening scene was about 'whitewalkers' (GoT term for intelligent zombies). thrilled and stunned at once, we knew we were going to watch this show and at a feverish pace at that (Homeland being our reference here). that night, we were three episodes down and only because he had downloaded only three!

from season 1 to season 2 in three days and finishing the third season on a single starry Saturday night, i was tired to my bones but more awake than ever. GoT as a fantasy epic is the best i have ever seen, the characters take you by surprise in every episode and you can call no one completely good or bad. people are grey almost all the time and just when you think you have got someone figured, they turn the tables on you and the story kind of flips on its face. also, people die, like all the freaking time.

there are badass moments and the penultimate episodes of every season are just mind blowing. i am sorry to use these many adjectives but i dont really want to give away the storyline incase some of you do get excited enough to watch it.

after finishing the show, i started re-watching it, started youtubing the emmy panel and other tid bits i could find and now, am the proud owner of the books! thank heavens the birthday comes in June and i have great friends! wink wink ;)

reading the story with all its maddening details is something! i read it early in the morning after my experiments with the rotis and sabjis of the world are over, i read it in the rainy afternoons of the west, i read it at work when there are no copies to edit, i read it during the time i should be writing articles for the newspaper, i also read it at night, post milk and my favourite cookies.

this is love all over again. blessed is the soul that knows how to drown in a book. or six books by a mental author in this case.

Bombay diaries

What started out as a very scary and hectic little trip, came out so well that it deserves a post.

I was to go to Bombay (i like that name) for a Schengen visa interview. The meeting was at 8 am and I had to reach even earlier. So I chose a train at midnight, it would reach Bombay Central at 6 sharp, enough time I say. This was the first time I was travelling alone on a train. While I love trains, I was unsure about how this would feel. But the minute i got on it, I knew. The feeling seeped in like I always knew. Trains and the way they move have always fascinated me. They put me to sleep faster than anything I have tried in life. They were all men in my compartment but that hardly mattered, I dont feel that instinctive fear that a girl in my country should by now. Not yet aleast. Very soon, JK Rowling put me to sleep.

The alarm woke me up at 5.30, when I brushed my teeth, combed my hair and even changed my shirt inside the train loo! Another first! All this was necessary because I had to head straight to the consulate office and am sure the Germans wouldnt want it any other way. Once there, Bombay's early morning welcomed me with fallen flowers, some on their way to the ground, a lot of healthy dogs and a few marathi manas sitting on the pavement of the visa office already. Obviously, I chatted them up. They were very interested to know what, why and where of my trip. Not just that, when I asked them how to go about the city, they suggested a few places and said 'Bombay to bekar hai, kantaal gaye hai yaha reh reh ke'. I wondered what they thought of Ahmedabad. Ahem.
By 7.30 am, the whole place filled up and I soon found out my early morning friends were not there to visit europe but to help others do so. They were agents who ensured your visa requirements were correctly submitted. In my head, I realised the people who have expertise on these matters may never see outside of their cities ever. That is where the 'Mumbai is boring' line had come from.

My interview was over as soon as it started and I have a feeling they just want to look at applicants? Decide if I get the visa on the basis of my looks? I seriously do not know. I was just asked where in Europe was I planning to go to. That’s it.

Out on the streets by 8.30 am, I had a whole daytime to look forward to. And no, his cousin sister's house was not appealing just as yet. I walked to Nariman point’s sea line and sat there for a while. Health freaks jogged, people walked their large, imported breed dogs, some youngsters left home early to meet up their lovers before college started. That typical wind that blows near the sea blew, making me feel as free and as happy as ever. Water is therapeutic for me, it makes me a better person.

Then I called a friend living there, found out Cafe Leopold was close by and headed there. It was warm and inviting, the old and high ceilings, the typical Bombay cafe chairs and I took the table right next to the freshly baked pastries. Yes, I sat there, opened my novel again, ordered a cold coffee, chicken hotdog and fries and sat comfortably for an hour or two, I dont know. Reading, sipping that bitter coffee and no rush to be anywhere. As a Kolkata bangali would say, 'ultimate lagchilo'.

I then decided to visit Siddhivinayak, a very endearing orange coloured Ganesha who sits snugly at a place called Dadar. Spoke to the newspaper vendors and the shopkeepers who were just setting shop about my options in transport. I chose to ride a local train. As all the crowds travelled to the opposite direction in the mornings, I found my train, especially my ladies’ coach to be charmingly empty. Women read, sew, chatted and I made a girl remove her Ipod shuffle to talk to me instead. From there, I took a shared taxi to the temple in Prabhadevi. Inside the taxi, a college couple got up who kept calling each other idiot throughout their conversation. The guy was protective, asking her about her Saturday plans and the girl kept asking him to ditch a family wedding to meet her. I saw them in the big line for giving puja in the temple as well. She had wrapped her chunni over her head and he was hoarding her so that no one could brush against her. A cosy love story right there, I thought and smiled.

After speaking into the mice’s ears, I was content. From here, to anywhere I thought. Went to Bandra and fell in love with the summer collection of clothes and shoes I saw there. Bought a lot of tops, a jumpsuit, a pair of chappals and funky pyajamas in a little less than an hour. With no one telling me what is in fashion and what I ought to buy, this was the first ever truly freeing shopping session ever. I knew one thing, if Greece, Venice and Rome was happening, then I was going to have a super wardrobe. If not, I was still going to have a super wardrobe.

His cousin was now calling incessantly, wanting to know if I was lost. With the pressure of saving face and doing in-law duties, I headed to her place. Caught glimpse of a cool looking pub called Three wise men, and stopped for a pint of beer. The first afternoon pub experience in ages for me. Importantly, the first one ever by myself. It was truly liberating to be sitting in an Indian pub without anyone staring, wondering or trying to take advantage of the situation.

Knowing I had done enough, I sat in an auto and reached her place. Typically, had a lunch consisting of aamras and roti and khaman and bid them bye after an hour.
I don’t know what it is but Bombay recharges my cells and makes me a happy spirit, something I cant quite put my finger to. It releases shackles which Delhi always put. It makes me uninhibited, something Ahmedabad will never mange to do. Eight hours in this city and it can easily be called the best mini vacation I ever gave myself.

PS-I did get the visa later that evening.

A single moment of absolute beauty

She had never seen somebody so colourful. The girl, in her twenties, wore a peach coloured shirt that was merging with the colour of her skin and cobalt blue trousers, dark and heavy in comparison to the light blue sky up above. Her sandals were also peach coloured or maybe orange, but what stood out the most was her red, flaming hair. Straight, the hair flew about in the extremely windy hill of Aeropagus, and she sat and gaped at this beauty wide eyed.



How colourfully gorgeous. The peach was her skin, the red was her hair. Athens could be seen in her entirety from above this hill. Known for religious rites and senate meetings from back then, Aeropagus hill was named after Aero, the god of war in greek mythology. Today, couples, both local and tourists, helped each other up to the top and sat, feeling the wind on their face. Pigeons moved about nearby, pecking at insects and forming a part of the crowd.

She was alone but not really. After a good three hours inside the most beautiful ruins one can ever lay their eyes on, she was now perched at this hill, looking at the Acropolis in the opposite, much higher hill. What history, what mythology, the head was full of starry details and knowledge. For instance, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty had been with most gods but married Hephaestus, the god of fire, who was, according to lore, the ugliest. Also that his temple had been burnt down. Irony in all, she found. Taking out her little white notebook and the pencil from her hotel room, she started to scribble the name of all that she had seen today. In her heart, she knew, a story was forming, something that needed to be spilled out. But again and again, her eyes turned to the girl with the red hair.

In reality, she compared this girl with Aphrodite. Just as beautiful, with just as handsome a man as Adonis. They were a couple she was sure, but would they last? Would they end up in ‘holy matrimony’? Would she start cooking, taking care of the house? Would she have to throw away those beautifully fitted blue trousers because they wouldn’t fit her anymore? Would that mind blowing red hair soon be tied in a careless bun as she ran around the house, chasing her kids? Would this beauty lead to that reality?

The truth was, she smiled, that every beauty turned to that reality. This moment was all there was to it. This perfect moment of beauty and the wind on your young, pretty face.

the 'level' theory

its been a while since i blogged (why do i keep starting with this line. i must be really bad at committing myself to anything.) was reading a very nice blog by a fellow Indian. his life, issues and thoughts are mostly similar. and there is this one thing that drove home while reading many of his posts. it is what i call the 'level' theory.

but first, the background. at work, i have been undergoing a transformation of sorts. to bring you up to date, i am now left with no friends. let me rephrase that- i dont have the friends i had made initially. the reassuring factor that i had felt was actually hogwash and today, a printout of us three in our Diwali special sarees is just plain ol' irony. even more unfortunate is the fact that i dont know what happened. they just drifted apart or chose to start ignoring me post something ( i dont know that something because i didnt cause it). they hang out without me now, go past me and lounge in the corner i discovered for the three of us once, and basically do all things that are sharp contrasts to how we behaved a few months back.

but life, you know is a phenomena of habit and just like that, being on my own has become a habit too. i still call this a new city, i still call its people strangers, so it is obvious that i havent grown remarkably fond of this workplace either. their change doesnt effect me, simply because i never held them indispensable ever.

so coming back to the 'level' theory. we all make friends in life, some for short term, some for a very long term, some apparently 'forever'. during all of this, with some, we hit it off, what we call chemistry or what i call our 'levels' just match. there is no discomfort, no awkward waiting for acceptance, no minding your language, it just flows. like a beautifully made rum and coke, it runs through your veins like it was meant to be. these friends are perfect, you dont need words or thoughts to explain why they fit. but they dont come along a lot, there are just a few like these.

gradually, or by the time you are 'ahem' 27, you dont feel like making friends anymore. starting conversations, smiling at the same things and then furtively trying to see if this new prospective friend laughed too, if your favourite colours match, phew. too much hard work i say. i cannot say 'really? yeah, me too!' anymore. atleast not as animatedly as i used to a few years back. so now, it is only natural that we end up making friends with those who come closest to matching that 'level'. some hardly match, but are at the lowest rung of that level, and we are okay with that too. they say the speed of a team is determined by the slowest guy. so likewise, the person who gets even a little of your 'level' is fine, he can be called a friend. so at work, i havent really lost friends, i have just fired the slowest guy in my team :P

but jokes apart, the level does exist, its a real thing. and i for one, am kind of weary about new people. i would like to be around my friends, the ones i left behind. because you see, i did get lucky in life, my level had met its people. but i am just so far away now.

pangs

Everyday, I feel the pinch of death. Being absolutely, irrevocably in love with the canines of the world, my heart cries a little everyday. Maybe I did not notice it in the capital, maybe I was too naive or maybe, the phenomenon is more here in this city. But the truth is, I see a dead animal almost everyday.

Cant speak much about humans, they have never held a spell on me, if anything, I am getting ever more disillusioned when it comes to the ways of the human world. But this world I know, the kind hearted, warm, fuzzy, all-ABOUT-love world of dogs.

I used to feed a mommy, daddy and 3 lil ones, would bring them up to play with Gucci. Found the mommy hoarding a dead one the other day. She looked quite mental from a distance and I didnt go near. Then, a few weeks later, I saw just one tailing the mommy and I knew what had happened. It has now been a good two months and the last pup has grown strong and teenagey big. I give it Gujju food and it waits till I leave to accept it. At nights, all 3 come to my car, wag their tails, the daddy plays a lot, the mommy is weary and the kid is well, a single kid, healthy, happy and very noisy, taking on my Gucci as if there was a contest there.

This Sunday, I saw a mid sized dog lying at the other side of our building. On my way to the office, I kept wondering which one was this, had I ever petted it? Saw a brand new litter of 5 white puppies, shining in the Gujarat sun and felt better immediately.
Last night, we were eating donuts and discussing how the daddy dog whines when he sees me. N called it gay. Suddenly. with a start, I realised that we hadnt seen the baby for a few days now! With absolute and confirmed dejection, I realised that dead puppy I had seen the other day, was it. He was growing up and had starting venturing further out. We both became quiet and felt pangs of death. This puppy was literally growing up in front of our eyes, a fantastic little creature. And it took me 5 days to understand he had died.

I dont know why I am writing something so personal here, I dont want advise to be strong or to grow up. But it just hurts really badly. These animals are bundles of joy to say the least. They eat crap, stay dirty and yet, have a bounce which we with our money and cars dont have. And yet, every time, every frikkin time, their fate is sealed. Unfair, destiny, whatever, I just feel disappointed in life.
And the pain never leaves.

Keeping kaam se kaam

Suddenly, they dynamics of the office is getting pretty clear. Here you think you have chosen your friends, you have decided who your enemies are, you want to impress some and you want to undermine some. But with every passing week, the equations change. The friends kind of disappoint you in certain ways, the enemies seem stable and workable from a distance. The ones that must be impressed just take up a lot of your energy and the ones that should be undermined, well, there’s no telling how much is too much. You want to piss them off but you might need them later.

So I am not comfortable with married Gavin. He is not someone I want be friends with, much less be ‘close friends’ as he thinks we ‘already’ are. Another one of those I lead on, it seems. But we are in the same team and I cannot be avoiding him. Darn.
My car buddy is interesting though. From not talking much to letting her heart out about how much her teammate bugs her, was drastic. And the loathing in Texas is just too heavy in the air. She apparently is even ready for the day when I will be influenced enough to stop talking to her after hearing from her teammate. Years in the same company does that to you, I always say. Yesterday, she told me she was surprised how much she had let me in.

My friends don’t want me taking up so much because that shows I am available. What does available mean at the workplace anyway? From nicely advising me, they have now stooped to sarcastic comments. “Go out in the sun and get your stories, don’t tell us when boss loads you with more work” is something I hear every time I say I am tired now. A simple statement comes with baggage.

Its coming close to a year and I have stayed quiet in the beginning, moved to speaking carefully marking my territory and now, I feel I am gossiping too much. I complain about work, people and let people say the same things to me. Its kind of mediocre and bad but I don’t see how I can ask people to rise above the average and say nice things. Page 1, social impact awards later, I feel some of the nice ones slipping away. A small town, a smaller workplace and its that easy for things to get to you. And of course, that typical stigma of ‘if you smoke with the guys, you are obviously gossiped about and not a nice girl.’

In the end, maybe you need to just do your work and be nice, no matter what. That’s the plan for this month.

not everyone can be a v-buddy

Yes, it has been a long time and maybe the blogging spirit is anything but there. But I have been busy and not of my own accord. Its a kind of forced busy you know. When you have to wake up, have to eat, have to go work, have to be friendly. shit.
I did not realise but I have started to enjoy going all quiet. The recluse in me has finally made an appearance. I thought I would always remain one of those annoyingly happy and lucky people with no brooding to me. Well, ofcourse I brood, but now my stocks have gone public. I was told at work, 'you are a really keep-to-yourself person, arent you?'i heard myself laughing and then some more.

No really, I dont know if its age or if the city people dont amuse me enough, but I am this close to being good by myself. i like a few people and umm, they dont even live here around me. and ofcourse, there's him, the filter to my rants. he listens, puts an arm around me, nods in agreement and I am comfortable, yet again. i do feel i should be there for him too, but later on that.

that brings me to the point i have been wondering about. i dont make a good vacation buddy to most people. let me word that correctly. not everyone i have been on vacation with is a good vacation buddy. there are comfort zones and pissd zones and i could write ten posts on the times i was in the latter zone.

the recent trip to udaipur was a wake up call of sorts. not only do i hate 3 opinions on one small thing, i also hate couples. especially, the pda doing, oblivious to others, hating to sight-see couples. why would a person go to a resort in a different city and drink and make merry in the swimming pool and only that? what happened to good old sight seeing? palaces, lakes, why you no likey?

and whats with the i-wrap-my-arms-around-my-love whenever, wherever? i also love this person, and vice versa (i hope) but there's stuff to see, its a group thingy, and it gives me a happy, excited buzz around the ears. why doesnt that apply to these lovesick puppies?

and i understand resorts are rich, luxurious things and one must dive into its plushness but umm, get a room in your own city if that is all you like. period.
I am cribbing and that is because i had to deal with all of that in the typical fake mrinu smiling manner. even say stuff like 'arre nahi nahi, its cool with me' when it bloody well wasnt so. the trouble is, even my fake jig is taken to be the real thing.

that reminds me of yet another amazing trip. that was sort of spoiled by a person who couldnt control her moods. from happy friendship day, it was down to blazing ignorance in 2 minutes. and all you know was that you were talking away to glory, not knowing what hurt the moody grinch when.

another friend decided to sleep the whole day because last evening's trek was tiring. i mean hello, we are here for 2 days, and you decide to sleep for 1? i dont mind weird assery, i just mind wasting my time trying to do my thing past it.

i have had great vacations too, and the people who made it worthwhile can hear me right now. and once again, i am glad you guys are there, cos these people above suck. they are friends, but not vacation buddies. harsh truth, swallow the pill i say.

ok, on to drudgery then.

wasseypuri maza

dear bihar,
thank you for letting kashyap think this clearly and amazingly well.
fab really.

frustiyaao nahi moora, nervousaao nahi moora,
anytime moodwa ko, anytime moodwa ko, upsetaao nahi moora
:)
ps-too much madira speaking. and madness. hic.

the way things came to be..

Dear ex-boyfriend,
Wanted to inform you that the last of our friends have decided to tie the knot. With M and G coming together, the group is now complete.

Ofcourse, the journey was full of surprises. I mean, C ended up not marrying anyone from the group, though he dated almost all the girls in it. Its funny how he almost was on the verge of desperation in the last party we attended together. He said, “Ab bas shaadi karni hai yaar, ab akele maza nahi aata.” Having said that, he chose someone who well, never mind. Lets just say its hardly a love marriage.

R dated the weird girl of CR Park for a while. Then he found someone better at work. But she was a non-Bong and typically, got married off before the Bong guy could commit. Now, he has found through common friends and facebook, what you call a catch. A junior of mine, I quite like her. And she is pretty.

Coming to M and G, you know how they came together; from dating different people within the group to finding each other. They both look the part of an alpha couple and I like the combined nature of the two, especially when we all get drunk. G will always be special for he is the only one I could lock horns with. Having reunited over Old Monk behind IIFT last year, we have found our place under the sun again. And I am very happy for the two.

All this is very surprising, no? I mean, five years back, in 2007, the scene was very different. And who of all people knew you and I would be this way? We both seemed ‘set for life’. I was told ‘is bande se zyada pagal koi nahi hoga’ and you were told ‘tu toh set ho gaya bhai’ by these friends of ours. Little did we know. We would give a hoot to the world and roam around free spiritedly on a Bullet, eat cheesecakes and watch every movie in town. We even discussed kid names, didn’t we? Funny how that didn’t turn up well. You had even got internet by the end. It really got important later on, you know.

That said, I don’t mind that older woman of yours, and you surely shouldn’t mind the epic one I decided to keep. It’s a pity I realized I could be the committed sorts, just not with you. But you are special. And on a day like this, when M and G are sharing laddoos and posting pictures on facebook with their respective mothers, I cant help but think of you. We both could have been there, clapping in glee for them. And maybe some more.

It’s a happy day. Lets soak ourselves in nostalgia and walk about misty eyed, shall we?

love, always.

driftwood.

of all the friends one has and lost, the ones that hurt the most are the ones that drift apart. staying friends is good, fighting and getting over them is also exciting (for the moment), but drifting apart is a handicap that weighs you down.

why dont we see things in the same light anymore? why did we stop calling each other? why did we not make the effort to call up and hear the daily crap he or she was dishing out when we had the chance? yes, i have been there and more often than not, have been the drifter while the other, the driftee.

The drifter is a strangely egotistical rascal who enjoys the supreme knowledge that he or she is loved and needed in the driftee's life. She expects to be called on a daily basis, given updates to and to be remembered right at the beginning of sharing great news, be it a job or having a boyfriend. The drifter knows she is indispensable in her own way and 'assumes' that there isnt much work to be done on her part. and it does work mostly. till sometime later in life.

The driftee begins to feel unequal, has a sudden sense of comparison with the drifter's other friends and eventually, goes round and round in his or her head to figure out what happens next. more often than not, they deduce and link it to self worth and slowly curl up in personal hell of silence. The drifter doesnt get the 'drift' of whats happening and soon, the calls are lesser, the visits are zero and the friendship is...ummm what friendship?

While the process is very convoluted and is based on a lot of misinterpretations on both sides, the result is always the same. people drift apart. the friend who once called you up at 2am in the night to share their parents' divorce in a choked voice now simply goes wassup on your gtalk. what is worse, you suddenly realise it years later and wish something bad happened to them so they would speak to you, a little more non-virtually, that is. sheesh.

working this out wasnt so difficult, doing anything about it anymore, is.

what happens.

Hey, saw your facebook status update. Are you guys fighting again?
This time its for real.
Well, the updates seem more serious than all the last times put together. But cmon, you guys are breaking up on facebook all the time.
This one is of the serious kind. We really have ended things.
But what does that even mean with you two? I don’t get it anymore.
Ya, neither do we.
I didn’t mean that. I meant, what is it about your love that’s so complicated?
I guess it never was love. Just a lot of obsession about each other.
Hahaha. Sure seemed like that. But then you kept getting back together. One wonders.
No more. He calls it a mistake, I call it a weeping heart.
Ouch. That hurts. On your part.
Who is to say which hurts more?
Ok, you need to relax. Tomorrow morning, your statuses will be back to mushy crap.
I like your optimism but there is no possible way that’s going to happen.
But what happened?
What always happens. We woke up.

a life without a ...

I am not the one about the long silences, no. I am the mindless yet entertaining chatter. I am the fall back guy when the silent one needs to fill the space. So my absence was barely being busy at other fronts.

As life has been at what it does best, i.e being unpredictable. I have been rendered jobless. OK that sounds horrible. I have quit after 6 months of ego fighting (read: sword) with my evil Bengali boss. Irony, aint it? So what came as an impulsive decision has turned out to be an albatross on my neck. I know a few people who might be doing the 'I told you so' dance right about now, but well, I am only human and follies are my forte.

December was fun with a trip to Turkey and planning my first ever New year party for friends at my very own place! Yes, my own frikkin awesome flat. It is a happpy feeling when you have lived and paid rent for almost, ummm, forever.. So yeah!

January was a month in which I got down to updating my resume, mailing people, putting my ego aside and following up on whether people received my resume (which ofcourse they did!) and calling up the very same people yet again. I would never hire me if I was the 'people' I mentioned above. Also, was introduced to a new festival, Uttarayan. In Gujarat, they fly kites like nobody's business. I got into it pretty fast, much to his amazement. I guess he should've predicted it, what with my love for sports of all kinds.

While the festival and the wait to get a response from the 'people' kept me happily ignorant of a whole month passing without a job, February brought with it a promise of going and staying with Ma and Baba for a while. I hogged on bengali food, on mutton, chicken, fish and dry fish (yes, we dont leave any kind of fish) and watched theater and movies and sat on a big field with a beer bottle in my hand and a cousin who has started to look very similar to the 21 year old me, the beer guzzling and the dont-care attitude towards authority and public parks included.

Cometh March and just like old times, the exam fear has gripped me. Only that it isnt about exams anymore. Onto my third month of unemployment, I sometimes wonder about life beyond. If I even want to work anymore. Ideally, I should just start writing that book I have always wanted to. But, being a middle class, intelligent and independent woman (we are a type, I swear am not gloating) I must work, preferably in the best place in this city. And thus, neither do creative juices for the book flow, nor does the phone ring.

If I was racist about small towns before, you shouldnt start a debate about it with me now. My loathing towards anything that isnt Delhi has increased by leaps and bounds and I have my ways of keeping it normal. I watch sitcoms.

Yes, I watch endless sitcoms and love the fact that every dysfunctional character in every show can make me laugh. By that logic, I can make myself laugh at me too. And that keeps the peace.

I will be heard more often from now on, pinky swear!

windy waffle love-2

She asked for a waffle with chocolate sauce and cream, and he said he wouldn’t like fruits on it. She knew he enjoyed eating bananas so she ordered for some banana slices on the now divine waffle. When she was given the piece of heaven, she fed him a spoon to which he refused saying he hated bananas during the night and she put it without thinking about him. Well. Here she was, sacrificing on kiwis and strawberries and choosing bananas just because he liked them and this is what she got. That was just too bad.

The argument got bitter and accusations were thrown which would look hilarious on a good day. Making jokes on how he ate bananas in fixed hours of the day and hated them on others got out of hand and the date was abruptly over. From fruits, they moved on to the nagging issues of life like place, culture etc and there was no way of redeeming the date thereafter. They both decided to walk instead of taking a cab just to release the pressure. Without acknowledging each other’s presence, they kept walking. Soon, she got tired and took a cab and asked him to get in, to which he behaved like a child and said, ‘You called it. You get in.’ she was pissed and asked the cabbie to go ahead. Once at Kabatas, the tram station, she missed him dearly. For the next twenty minutes, he was nowhere to be seen and the tram station fellow kept coming to her and asking her which tram was she waiting for. It was close to 12 and tears were stinging her eyes. A cab stopped in front of her and an Indian boy came out of it, took one look at her and asked her if she wanted to be dropped somewhere. She refused and turned the other way.

The tram guy closed the system and told her the last ride was over and said a sympathetic bye to her. Suddenly, from afar, she saw him walking towards her, looking tired and completely put out. Rushing to him, she asked if he had walked all the way. He nodded, called a cab and they got in. she cried silently while he looked the other way, asking the cabbie for extra bills. Once inside the hotel, she saw the same Indian guy from that night, who had one look at both their faces, and gave her a sympathetic smile. Forget sympathy, she could do with some vodka right now. Inside the room, the travel and the heart ache gave way to sleep soon enough.

Early morning, she woke up, way calmer than the previous night. He had already left for his meetings, so she went to the washroom, sat on the pot, and started to think. How could they manage a fight in the most beautiful city in the world? How could they not keep their short tempers in check for one little exotic week? How is it love if they cant trust each other and do things that hurt, simply on an impulse? And most importantly, how were they supposed to get past this and enjoy two more days of the vacation? She turned her head towards the wash basin and was caught by surprise. There was a cardboard sheet, torn from the box of khaakras she had got from home. The sheet had a pen drawing of a round face with hair and 3 tears each coming from both his eyes. It said SORRY underneath that. It was hard to believe and too cute to not melt. Clutching it close to her heart, she laughed and then cried at the madness of it all.

He had woken up, felt bad and had taken the pains to tear a piece out of a box to make that hideous drawing and write what he couldn’t manage to say the entire night. There are certain things about love, the most important one being that it isn’t extraordinary. It is simple, right there in front of you. In little things, it can trigger. You don’t have to be a talker, you can be the shy kinds and still have your place under the sun. a vacation doesn’t have to be perfect, it can find perfection in your fights and then, in your Sorrys’. There is no sure shot way to tell what keeps you happy. A banana slice in your waffle can spoil your evening and a little boy cartoon saying sorry can make things alrite again. It is that ordinarily extraordinary. Believe you me.

windy waffle love-1

It was yet another super windy day at Istanbul. But that had not deterred her from exploring and loving. Being more sensitive to cold than most people she knew, she struggled with the cold winds that thrashed the only part they could get, the face. Nonetheless, she braved it the whole day and had a dekko at the famous Topkapi palace, the best archaeology museum in the world and the creepy Basilica cistern, and by this time, it was raining too. Coming to Istanbul on a December week would not be great travel advice, but seeing the city when no one else has a beauty of its own.

Tired from the excursion, she warmed her feet by the heater and watched some more random language music on Viva TV and waited for him to get back. Tonight’s plan was to head to Ortakoy, a north western pretty village which boasts of a lovely pier. He came back and together they took the tram to Kabatas and then a bus to Ortakoy.

The village was scenic to say the least. Walking, not hand in hand but laughing and talking about the simplest things in life, the two lovers enjoyed each second of the windy night. She squealed at the sight of Gloria Jeans’ coffee shop but had a hookah from the local shop instead. He fell in love with the sea side coffee shop and pledged to come back, no matter how full he was after dinner.

A heady meal later, they walked towards the sea side coffee parlour but now they weren’t very sure about that last cup of tea. Maybe they couldn’t have it after all that food they had. His heart won over his head finally and they did sit right next to the splashing waves and had a typically strong Turkish cup of tea in the surreal coffee shop. She was ecstatic because yet another cat of the city had warmed and cosied up to her, much to the frustration of the burqa clad women and their men right behind their table who had tried to win its affection for a while now. There was a Jack Black look alike who preferred to stare at her rather than in his coffee cup. They made jokes in hindi and tons of photos and crazy winds later, she decided to go to the lane that was selling her favourite, waffles.

That was the beginning of the typical end to a happy date between these two.

doesnt fit in. anymore.

the wait

She waited outside the coffee shop for fifteen minutes, already regretting her decision to have come. She was cursing herself for the care she had taken to look nice today. A crisp mauve shirt with jeans. Her hair fell straight and silky. She had lined her eyes with kohl just the way he loved them. Used to love them. Well, she didn’t know anymore.

Clutching her bag, feeling downright stupid, humiliation now took over her being. He had changed his mind after asking her to come. He had always known that he wouldn’t come. He had done this just for a kick. That stung. Of all things, it shouldn’t be the last logic, she prayed to God silently.

After half an hour, a car came towards the parking lot next to her and parked itself. She looked towards it, not really expecting him. She just wanted to look and pretend busy for the ultimate five minutes which she had given herself.

It was him. He hadnt changed except for the fact that he had gained a little weight and looked like life had happened to him. The usual. Work pressure, family, money and the jazz. They take over the best of faces. They had claimed him too.

He didn’t smile, but walked with an expression she didn’t quite understand. It had been years, she realised. She suddenly thought of how she must be looking and immediately straightened up and smiled just a little. Together, they entered the shop without a word.

I was about to leave you know. Thought you werent coming.

Actually, I almost wasn’t. just couldn’t make myself come. Realised things weren’t as settled as I thought they were within.

Oh, you should have just messaged then. I would have understood.

You would? Since when have you started understanding what I feel?

Wow, rubbing it even now? How do you manage to?

You know, today when I was coming to meet you, she asked me where I was headed. I just couldn’t think of anything to say.

So, what did you say?

Meeting a friend. She believed me. I know it isn’t very far from the truth now, but still.

Yes, I don’t think we are friends. But we are connected. Still.

Don’t say that. I don’t want to be.

But I do. I like it. Somewhere within, we are still back there somewhere.

He looked deeply into her eyes and suddenly turned away.

You know what, lets go. I will drop you somewhere. I thought I was ready for this. But I am not. Call me a weak person again if you like.

Hey, please don't say that. And you are right. I will go myself, no worries. You take care.

Hmmm, you too. He got up first and headed to his car.

She kept sitting, blowing into the steam of her black coffee. Maybe he had felt the exact same way she had, like a rush from back then. Maybe he couldn’t bear to sit here with her anymore. Or maybe, he still loved her kohl lined eyes.

the need

Was told by a friend that he needs to find love again. I felt for him and at once, thought for myself. Was it the same for me too? Couldnt think of anything to say but just that "You need to start. Start with a stranger even. Just begin." He didnt want to believe it. I insisted, half knowing if that was what was needed. At night, he smsed saying, 'Opened up to a colleague, saw her for what she was, a pretty nice girl, we even made plans for coffee. Seems she was equally lonely at the workplace." Maybe, just maybe, love can be found. Just look anywhere, its the easiest to find and the most difficult to have. But its always there. Belonging to different people sometimes, an excess for you at times, in the form of your beloved pet most of the times, but life is just brimming with love. I am glad he asked me about his need to find love again. Because I feel I found mine again.

the laughing heart

your life is your life, don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission. be on the watch. there are ways out. there is a light somewhere. it may not be much light but, it beats the darkness. be on the watch. the gods will offer you chances. know them. take them. you can’t beat death but, you can beat death in life, sometimes. and the more often you learn to do it, the more light there will be. your life is your life. know it while you have it. you are marvelous, the gods wait to delight in you. -Charles Bukowski

Everyone is okay really.

I dont expect you to understand a single word I say. I dont because I know every person is selfish. Every person wants the best for himself, even at the cost of what is important. It is ok if you dont think about me when protecting your interests.

I am ok if you pretend to not be able to hear me. I know you can hear me, and I know you understand. Its just that saying it loud will hurt you. So you let me be.
I forgive you.

I dont need to sleep with someone, I just need to sleep.