Through the Looking Glass

I was clicking through Reader and muttering curses in the direction of blogs which hadn't been updated in a while... and realized mine wasn't exactly thriving either, so here I am.

All my recent writing has been for NaNoWriMo, and even that slowed down considerably once this new job kicked in. Maybe it was bound to slow down anyway - I've reached that place in the book where I need to tap beyond narratorial skill into more murky waters.

I met a woman yesterday. Listening to her talk about food set off instant flags in my head. There was this light in her eyes when she spoke about surviving on honey and water for a month. She lost eleven kilos, she said.  The other people at the table didn't express alarm - why should they? She seemed perfectly healthy, and she cited research that she'd done indicating that this was a certified diet. There's no conviction like that of a delusional person.

She took me back to where I'd been, a few years ago, back when I first thought of this story. It's a lonely place to be in - if everyone agrees with your delusions, how are you meant to snap out of it? I should meet her every day, I'd definitely get the kick in the butt I need to finish off my book.

Green-Eye'd

It's a strange thing, jealousy. There's this place in a relationship where you stop taking it seriously. But the only way to get to that place, is by not taking jealousy seriously in the first place.

PS: And I'm now at the place, job-wise, where I find time to blog. So what if it's just a line, it's a start :) Especially given I now owe NaNoWriMo some 12K words, I may as well use up my words over there.

Numbers

Proposed to at 23, engaged at 24, married at 25. And yet I've only known the man for a little more than a year.

That's the only math problem I don't find puzzling :)

Annoyed with AirAsia

Is 'budget' synonymous with 'brainless'? I can think of no other explanation for AirAsia's blind refusal to acknowledge Bangkok's biggest flood in recent times. If you planned to fly there, then surely hundreds of people dying there won't change your plans? That's what AirAsia seems to say.

They will neither offer you a credit, change your travel dates, or allow you to fly to another location. In short, they seem to say that they will leave you stranded at the Bangkok airport, come hell or high water (literally, in this case). You can then 'enjoy' your week at the airport, since there's no way that you can do anything if you get out.

And they don't see why this should be a problem either. I'm baffled by their complete disregard for an exceptional situation, and their lack of sensitivity at this time. They will not veer from their dogmatic canned responses. I find it hard to appreciate the acts of 'charity' they describe on their website, when these same acts were probably funded by the money they collected from helpless travelers who did not wish to travel to disaster struck areas.

Edited: Subjugated them since. Change of dates, no loss of money.

Laptop-Less

It's been a weird week without my laptop. I did things I've never done before. Such as fall asleep mid afternoon for lack of anything better to do. I also read through some management & sports books, for the same reason. Ditto watching daytime TV and making phone calls to people because I couldn't just ping them. (I'm so not a phone person.)

Then there was the day when I went to pick my laptop up from the service center, but they didn't have it ready yet. So I went out and watched a movie by myself to fill in the time till they had it ready. I've never done that before, and I've hardly ever watched morning shows on weekdays - so I didn't realize I'd literally have the entire theater to myself.

I ran through security and the demographic poll guy at the gate in my usual OCD way (stopping only to snap 'Yes!' at the very annoying guy who bleated 'Married-a??' at my filled-up card) and found myself all. alone. In a giant theater. With the lights dim. Thank god I hadn't opted to watch a 3d movie or I'd have peed my pants right about then. (Whaaat, so I'm scared of 3d. You'd be scared too if someone or something actually came that close in real life.)

Just when I was getting good and freaked out by how very dark and big it was, a gay couple showed up. So that's who else watches weekday morning shows. Some kids playing hooky from college also eventually turned up and it started to feel very cozy. All in all it was most fun, and I was quite disappointed that the laptop was ready when I went back.

Sadly nothing on it can be recovered which means my lovely collection of one-line recipes is gone. GONE! As is the bloody novel I was writing. There go my chapter outlines. It's back to the drawing board if I want to write a book out by the time I'm 25*. And I only have six days.

*I know I technically wrote one full-length one already, but it doesn't count if I don't want to send it to a publisher :P

Closed Doors

I would be enraged, but at this precise moment, it's funny. And the joke's on you.

To Be or Not To Be

In honor of our proposal anniversary, I was looking through this list my husband made, which he used as a checklist when meeting prospective brides.

An age of 24 or above.. uhm, I didn't fit that bill. Preferably a post graduate, earning a take-home salary of XX... there's no chronological way to accomplish both those goals before the age of 24. Anyway, the list goes on, but I'd say I meet less than 5% of all the criteria he had in mind.

Just got me thinking... I have an equally well defined list for the ideal job. Salary of XX, growth prospects, company's vision, benefits/location, my interest in the job, and so on. Maybe I should just take a chance on a job even if it doesn't fit that list wholly but feels right. Maybe not. But either ways something to think about.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

.... Ahhhhh and then there's the flip side to living alone (this is in continuation to the last post, if you're wondering).

This is the part where you've watched two serials and a movie, read your way through multiple books, talked to everyone online as well as on the phone, and you're still somehow mysteriously wide awake.

And I'm amused because I just remembered this is how the louwes started off with the Boy - because we were both wide awake twenty four seven.* Apparently the causes and cures of insomnia are both the same.

*Although it is more than a little bit suspicious how fast he fell asleep at all hours once we started dating. What an elaborate ruse to lure me into conversing with him. Tsk.

The Single Life

Though it seems like forever (and then some) I've barely been married for four months. I lived alone for a HELL of a lot longer than that, so I figured I'd just easily revert to my single-girl self this weekend when the husband went out of town.

Don't get me wrong, I love the complancency of married life with its domestic routines and its cheerful little highs.... But can I just say, once in a while, living-alone life can be FABULOUS too.

Getting online at night and talking to people in other time zones whom you don't get to talk to otherwise.

Discussions about careers and love lives seeming more profound at midnight than ever.

Chatting and reading ebooks till you fall asleep.

Staying out all day without a single spare thought about needing to get home for the maid.

Peacing out on giant gossipy phone calls.

Ahhhh, life's good.

Now if this were only Chennai, this would be good times fifteen thousand. I need friends in HYDERABAD, dammit. Does any one know any worth knowing?

Mindblasting

I just finished watching (500) Days of Summer, and loved almost every minute. If I ever wrote a movie, it's the kind of kitsch I'd come up with. Use the cute stuff to reel in the audience - then wack them in the behind with a heaping spoonful of reality. 

There's always the possibility that people won't get it. There are no explanations, no excuses. Just an account of the (despicable) things that love enables. 

There's something so powerful about a story which acknowledges that the leading man isn't necessarily the hero, or that happy endings don't need to be universally applicable. That's about all the sanity we can expect from the universe. 

PS: If the movie doesn't do it for you, try Theobroma's Kejriwal. It supposedly isn't authentic, but eggs make me sick and good bread with melty cheese makes me happy, so this version is probably closer to an epicurean epiphany for me anyway.

The One For Me

I whooshed through college right into my first job, and off from there into my second. I've never really had to look for a job, and the thought of interviewing for one kinda freaks me out.

Especially because so far I've done marketing, and what I really really want to do is publishing. Each time I think about applying to a marketing role, I cringe inside, and think my present marketing job's awesome enough, even if working from home bores me to death. As for publishing, well, I looked and looked, but Hyderabad has absolutely nothing.

And so, when I got an email about the perfect job, though it made no sense because it was in another city, I figured - why not? 

There's something about knowing when a job is so right for you. I'm all kinds of insecure when it comes to interviews, but I got an adrenaline rush just from knowing for sure that this job was something I could do, and do well, and love doing. It's the only interview in my life for which I knew enough before hand not to bother preparing. I breezed through it and felt confident quoting a salary expectation, something I've never managed before. And afterwards, I knew they'd hire me, and that if they didn't, I wouldn't bother obsessing because I'd done everything perfectly. 

That's the magic of the perfect job I guess. 

... I got the job. And, well, it doesn't make sense taking it up because of a bunch of different reasons. But now, I know of a job type where I can actually want to wake up and go to work every morning, without a lingering sense of doubt at the back of my head about whether I'm good enough to cut it. I didn't even know for sure if such a thing existed, and it's a major breakthrough for me to know that it does. And maybe some other day, when enough things fall in place, I'll hunt it down. 

Paradise on Earth - II

Read Part I yet? Do it please. I'm compulsive about order and suchlike :P Now, onwards.

We stayed on a quaint houseboat on Nigeen (Diamond) Lake which was surprisingly opulent with full-length carpets and woodworked ceilings. A day-trip around Dal Lake and the local attractions made us happy to have chosen this non-crowded quiet lake with its well spaced out houseboats. It felt like mini-National Geographic to check out the birds hunting for their fish every day... I suspect on Dal you'd see boys hunting for fransip instead.

While I'm happy checking out a garden or two just to marvel at how the Mughals managed to construct them years ago, seeing one garden is like seeing any other, and so we decided to check out a couple of the dargahs instead of doing five gardens in a row. Again - lovely experience with everyone going out of their way to make us feel at home. The cutest was two kids who accompanied us around the mosque, telling us solemnly 'Hindu-Muslim bhai bhai.' And the dargah itself - the interiors are incredibly detailed and so very very rich, it's breathtaking. 

That's the awesome thing really - Kashmir's a very poor state, in that the chief occupations of people are agriculture and (maaaaybe) tourism. And yet, everyone has succulent meat & dishes to eat because they cultivate both animals and cash crops; and it's a lovely self-contained system.

We also spent a couple of very satisfying days telling the locals that we wouldn't ride their horses and their sleds because that'd be cruel, and that we could really do 5-6kms in the hills on foot, no problem. While the local 'salesmen' are everywhere thrusting their wares on you via shikhara, horse, and on foot, it must be admitted that they charge very cheap rates, and if you're the kind that doesn't enjoy treking it, you'd still have an easy time of it. 

But us being us - we kept making it our mission to go where no one else was around, which meant we got to see some really cool views (respect to the cows for making it up all the way there, I was huffing and puffing but they looked totally cozy), including a spectacular End-of-the-World horizon at Gulmarg. And 9000 feet up at Sonamarg*, where it was still twenty six degrees celsius out, we finally found snow. That's right - Srinagar in September still sees weather touching thirty one degrees or so on average. What can I say, it happens only in India :)

*I just have to say this - we were nine. thousand. feet. high. And the husband still looked around before putting his hand around me. And we're married. Another thing that happens only in India.

Paradise on Earth - I

Three honeymoons in as many months, and I just realized I haven't even done a proper post on any of them. Let's start with Kashmir. It's always been on my list of must-do places, and it was the perfect antidote to our summer beaches overdose. 

The people (women in burqas included!) are super extroverted and friendly, and the burqa seems to be a local costume more than any form of restriction. I'm inclined to believe the locals who told us that strife and terror are very much a part of the past... the kids wandering around unsupervised are a definite indication that all's very well indeed.

This was one place where I actually felt kids would have a great time growing up - they have ponds with easy-to-catch fish which they freely dive into, as well as hills with sheep that don't mind playing tag, and horses which are allowed to run wild when it's not their turn to lug someone uphill.

I'm torn between being glad tourists haven't cottoned on to how safe and lovely it is, and being sad that the locals earn so little. The prices for most things are still very 80's... you can easily have a full meal for 80 bucks or so. Except, of course, when they make it Kashmiri style, and then you pay for the kesar and the badam and the bucketloads of raisins - well worth it. I could continue with this post but my eyes tend to cross over if I read posts that are too long, so I'll end this here and do a more detailed breakdown in the next.

Quarter-life Non-Crisis

I never tire of hearing how the husband and I don't look or act married, because, well, no one wants to look like a wife, much less an Indian wife. 

But I must say the charm wears off when it's followed up with one or the other variation of 'Are you old enough to be married then?' 

We even got that comment from a eleven year old, what fresh horror. 

On the bright side, this makes me the only person on the planet so completely okay with turning twenty five. Hey if the rest of the world won't believe it, how can I possibly take turning older seriously?

The Anti-Hypocrisy Movement

Did you know the Indian constitution's been amended more times than any other constitution in the world? Does constant reinforcement make it weaker or stronger? Apparently, most Indians don't care. They're too busy writing up their own version, applicable to just them.

Like the guy who thinks it's okay that everyone else is waiting in line, but he deserves an exception just because he feels like one. Or like the woman and children eagerly pouncing on theater seats that are 500 bucks more expensive than the ones they paid for, just because they happened to be empty.

Of course, the first guy isn't okay with anyone else cutting in line, oh no no. As for the woman and the children, moralistic speeches about having paid for those seats would have erupted had someone else dared to take the seats, were the tables changed.

No one thinks to even question the mark up on the candles they buy to support whatever cause it's fashionable to support. Who else thinks that 'fasting to death' is political blackmail - at best petty, and at worst illegal?

I honestly don't care about Anna Hazare or the Lokpal bill. I'm concerned that more people don't protest about more things. Not with marches and signs and the media, but just because you know very well that you would say something if someone else did what you think you can get away with doing.

So... and listen carefully all you people who give in to auto drivers' outrageous demands or litter outside other people's houses... say. something. Even if you're not personally affected. And realize, once you've protested against someone else doing something, that you can't just waltz out there and do it yourself the next day. The rules don't change for different people and/or different situations. No really, they don't even change for you.

If we honestly gave half a crap about freedom of speech or independence or whatever else we pretend to give a crap about, it's about time we showed it in the choices we make every day, rather than just because there's a cricket match on. 

Sugar & Spice

'Apparently, you need to read this to know you've found the real me. How ironic. If you found me, then I'm probably wanting to be lost. Don't knock on this door stranger. Maybe you were someone I once knew in the past, and that's where you belong.'

... Best. Bio. Ever. 

Full Circle

Here we are again.

Jugaad

I was having dinner with my manager and my ex-manager last night; both charming gentlemen with more than a little entrepreneurial zeal. In between salads and soups, we discussed business models and visionary goals. My manager brought up Harsha Bhogle, a former batchmate, saying noone resented him because his current position was hard earned... if he can make five lakhs in four hours now, it's only because he once had to put in 18 hour days with very little knowledge if it was even going somewhere.

I don't resent Bhogle his money or fame either, but I do resent his clarity. I wish I knew what I cared about enough to willingly put aside the safety net of a conventional job... the kind of thing where you not only put in more time and effort than you would in a normal job, but also love every minute of it, and make it big eventually as part of a natural progression of passion + skill + experience. 

I know, in theory, what I'm that enthu about. In fact, I know two or three things I'm that passionate about, and good at, which makes me luckier than most people. I'm also fortunate in that my passions are ROI-friendly as well as idealistic, given enough time. The question is whether I can get myself to take that leap towards one of them and let it play out, instead of going back to something that I know and trust just because it's easier than taking that risk.

For someone who's generally not materialistic, I sure am superficial when it comes to conventional definitions of success. But if that's the only thing holding me back, surely the answer's self-evident?

Frightful Fridays

A courier guy who won't ask for directions until he's too lost to describe where he is.

An internet cable guy who'll take all your money upfront and then give you five reasons why he can't install the thing in your house.

Dead silence when you ask people for deadlines, and then sudden death as they all arrive at the same time.

Who wants to trade lives?

PS: I just tweeted all of this and now I'm blogging it too... anything to avoid looking at a tome of HR-ese that needs to be translated into plain English.

Arbit Takeaways From Arbit Movies - I

Hrithik Roshan must have a small weenie. Either that or he's an alien. Seriously, how can anyone have hair that perfect, skin that just never shows any wear and tear, and THAT body? Given he has six fingers one one hand and ears that are elongated, I'm leaning towards the possibility of his being an alien. With a small weenie. 

Farhan Akhtar on the other hand - now HE is very human and very very sexy. He has the kind of hair that you know has seen some bad days, skin that's as pockmarked as the dark side of the moon, and a body that isn't too far away, with diligent gymming. And airbrushing.

As for Abhay Deol - he's hot enough, but in a gay way. The kind you know you won't fall for, because it'll be too funny when he's trying to seduce you with that voice. 

Now that we have that out of the way, proceeding to the movie Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara... brilliant first half, supremely lame second half, Katrina Kaif should never be allowed to open her mouth, every woman should try not to be Kalki Koechlin, and clearly the hottest men end up with the most pointless of women, so tatasthu. 

And, let's see, Delhi Belly... really not as vulgar as it could've been, though I could just be saying that because I live with a boy and my tolerance levels for disgust have multiplied manifold. I'm not quite repressed enough to fall out of my seat laughing at the word 'tatti' being used in public, so I'm sure I didn't enjoy it as much as the average Indian, but in it's defense, it's more amusing than that Hangover II nonsense. 

I spent most of the movie wondering why the writers thought anyone would get a Mill on the Floss reference. And also if that lead actress was a lesbian. And whether Shenaz had had a boob job and/or was a vampire. And whether I hate you (like I love you) was only funny because we live in the era of Justin Bieber. So all in all, a thought provoking movie, Delhi Belly.

Life Lessons

Baking bread reminds me of the singles game a la Bridget Jones. You know, when you hone in on your prey, knead at it, get it all hot and then, without explanation, leave it alone for hours on end.

If left undisturbed, it'll eat away at itself wondering what's happening, slowly rising in pleasurable anticipation awaiting your return.

... Or, just, you know, a watched kettle never boils.

PS: I'm waiting for the bloody thing to rise and pretending I don't give a damn. Fingers crossed it'll work like the average man.

The One Where I Pimp The Other Blog

I just spent an enjoyable ten minutes going 'Beep beep beep yourself, f-tard,' at my induction stove. I had the last beep but it won't cook my potato so I think we're even. I'm just grateful it didn't pull this stunt day before when I executed the now infamous monthiversary dinner (and served it in a sari while talking about his career - am I the aadarsh bharatiya naari or what).

Speaking of - see how I slipped it in there? - it's been a month! We were originally meant to get married yesterday, and while that would have meant more people could have made it, what a complete waste of a month that would have been. Read my Husbandly Histrionics blog for the quotable highlights. 

An excerpt just so you know it's worth your time (and also appreciate what I live with all the time :): 

Him 

(in response to ShitMyHusbandSays.Wordpress.com): 

Look at his ability to drive that woman nuts...with one statement. It's awesome!

Epic Wins

In your face, rest of the world, I am the luckiest person alive. Bar NONE. I've the best job in the world, a huge house to play with, and as for the husband... well. Who ELSE has a husband who sits in the loo with you while you're seasick? Who else thinks of booking a helicopter (a frikkin HELICOPTER) so you don't have to get on another ferry? Who else pays for two hotels on two different islands just because you're too sick to contemplate traveling again and have to cancel on one? 

Dude. I so win at life.

PS: I highly recommend Seychelles to anyone looking for a vacation... mountains, oceans, jungles, all in one, with the most chilled out laid back people ever. And music so great you have to dance.

Tally

The husband leaves shirts lying around and bedsheets rumpled up... me, I keep even my clothes-to-wash folded up in separate piles. On the other hand, he makes notes and then notes-on-notes and finally notes-on-notes-on-notes for EVERYTHING, while I'm more of an I'm going to think out loud once I get to the store type person. As for food, you can practically sing-song 'Jeera rice daal fry' with him while I take particular pride in being unpredictable and experimentative. Seriously, I order the daal with red wine in it.

In short, he's twenty eight and I'm twenty four and life is hilarious. My only point of contention thus far is that he's left me all alone at home with a giant Toblerone bar (AND it's FRUIT N NUT) which is just grossly unfair. His only grouse could well be my blanket-hogging, but when he switches off the fan, my victory's obsolete, so whatever.

This really is peace on earth after all the wedding madness. May I suggest always always marrying someone you're madly in love with? There's no easier way to survive the event.

PS: I see a lucrative career ahead for post-marriage-sorter-out'ers, they'd make more than wedding planners if only they'd take care of all the packing, unpacking, shopping, reshopping, etc. You heard it here first.

Jitters

Okay, I know I've been married two weeks, but NOW is when the excited-panic mode really sets in. Today's it - my last day in my little one-bedroom place in Chennai and I'm freaaaaking out. I've no issues committing to one man over any other man - I'm sold on that idea. What's more unnerving is committing to one man over myself, and consciously acknowledging a farewell to a life that revolved around me. 

It's weird to have such a clear distinction between one phase of life and the next. Tomorrow, we move into the new house, with all our stuff. We get to shop for furniture, play House, and all of that good stuff. And once that ends... *hyperventilating* ... it means experimenting till we figure out routines and comfort zones that can work for us. 

It's largely exciting... I've lived alone long enough to have a general sense of grocery shopping and cooking and being domestic and all that. I'm just going through a huge bout of 'what-if' ness. You know. What if I never figure out what groceries to buy for a week ahead of time and have to keep running back (which is probably not as cute when your wife does it as opposed to your girlfriend). What if I invite his folks over and something is missing or doesn't taste right or <insert seemingly irrefutable catastrophe>? 

And see, the thing is, I know I have this a hell of a lot easier than most people. Not only do I have a job that lets me work from home, but also I only need to figure out one meal a day for a while. And it's dinner so I have all day to figure it out. And the mister insists on a maid cleaning the house and doing the clothes and dishes, which are luxuries I never allowed myself when I was living alone. I mean really, life could not get simpler. 

But, but, but, what if - despite having the perfect husband, the perfect job, and the perfect domestic scene - what if despite all this I still mess up or take longer to figure it out than I should? I'll have literally nothing to blame but my own ineptitude. Sigh. Okay, wish me luck.

PS: Yes, I really am this uncertain of myself... I only seem like an overconfident prick. It must be the cheekbones or the eyebrows or something.

Top 5 Amusing Things About Being Married

1. My net worth: It's suddenly shot up, literally. I am now a gold hanger. I really need to up my insurance.

2. Now you see it, now you don't: I find my three mangalsutras have an instant aging quality about them. When I don't have them out in the open, salesmen ask for my mummy-daddy. I kinda enjoy flashing it at inappropriate moments such as the above, actually.

3. Peekaboo: Being married means that people who catch us stealing a romantic moment tend to avoid eye contact and blush on our behalf because really, what are they going to say? We're married, yo. Instant license.

4. Bleddyyyy: Two entire families are now avidly aware of when I get my period - in fact, travel schedules are planned around it. Not even kidding.

5. Baby fever: I'd literally been married for one night before our relatives gathered around for a fertility ritual. With reference to point 4 above, we now ALL know I'm not pregnant, but thanks for checking in.

Retrospective Wisdom

The wedding countdown's fully mocking me because my wedding day was probably the most depressed I've felt in ages. On the bright side, it's taught me to re-evaluate my relationships. I think it's better to learn at 24 who your real friends are so you can focus on strengthening those ties rather than generally diluting your time and energy over a wider pool and then realizing the pool's nowhere near deep enough to be of any use if you're planning to take a really solid dive.

I could talk more on that strain, but honestly it's over and done with and everyone else had the best wedding they'd ever been to, so... after much heartbreak and soul searching and thoughts of what I coulda shoulda woulda done, I'm just letting it go. Additionally, for the first time in my life I'm thinking seriously about cutting people out, which is something I've never gotten up the balls to do before, so I guess I'm feeling all empowered and all that. My husband (ha. haha. hahahaha.) is clearly a good influence. 

And most brides only get stupid hotcases and Ganeshas out of their wedding days, so I guess net-net, I still got more out of the experience than most. Plus, the marriage is awesome even if the wedding was my own personal nightmare. 

I also have all kinds of fun and funny marriage stories but those can wait for a time when I'm feeling less hooh! hah! (Johnny Bravo style) and more ha! ha! (in the manner of Johnny Lever). Is it my imagination or has two weeks of socializing with relatives totally Iyer'ized my sense of humor?

Flutterbys

Like I was telling someone, I'd have thought the wedding thing through more carefully if I'd known it meant going offline for ten days. Not the marriage thing of course. Just the wedding thing. The marriage thing I'm unnervingly certain about for someone who's generally so obsessive and neurotic. He must be a keeper. 

Okay so anyway, long and short of it - I'm going all over the internet leaving 'last (fill-in-the-blanks) as a non-married person!' You know, kinda like territorial pee'ing, only longer lasting. So here it is then. Words of wisdom? I dunno, I'm more scared about not having access to email for ten days than about getting married. Seriously, easiest decision I've ever made in my life and I'm not just saying that because he stalks this space.

I highly recommend being in a long-distance relationship before you get married - then you get so excited about 'Oooh, we're meeting this Friday!' that 'Omg, we're getting married this Friday' just flies right out the window. Almost. 

If Only.

Now that the ordeal's done and we're back to normal breathing, here are all the ways in which Mahesh Bhatt's movie 'Haunted' could've just been avoided, sparing us all the trauma:

- If the annoying old man at the beginning (the one with enough money for a Reid & Taylor suit, but not enough for food) who knows all the answers to everything would just take care of the situation himself

- If Mimoh had realized that his realtor ass would get sued if he decided to stay at every single house he attempted to sell

- If any of the house's owners since 1936 had bothered to sell, replace or even shift any of the furniture, including but not limited to a piano that isn't even all that grand

- If Mimoh had ever bothered switching on a light in a house that's clearly haunted, instead of waiting for an angry Iyer ghost to come and do it for him

- If Meera had realized that it's simpler to let a piano professor rape her and leave her alone than to survive six days of rape from a ghost followed by eighty years of spirit rape

- If the piano-teacher-rapist-ghost Iyer wouldn't spoil the name of Iyers everywhere by pretending we're monogamous enough to enjoy eighty years of buttfucking the exact same person

- If the rape-victim-sparkly-ghost Meera had just not been a slob and washed out her locket instead of letting the rapist's blood dry up on it

- If Kishan, Kanhaiya, and all the other murdered chauffeurs, cooks etc, had realized their spirits could haunt the house for some added kicks, instead of leaving it to just Iyer and Meera

- If Meera's ghost had been less of a wuss.. I mean, what was she scared of now, death? No wait, that's right, she killed herself

- If the priest who said he'd 'pray' to keep them safe had just continued praying instead of getting up to check his wardrobe... and/or realized that Iyer would've been better exorcised by Andal anyway

- If Mimoh had just said 'Meera Meera Meera' instead of 'Iyer Iyer Iyer' since apparently calling someone by their name adds to their power

- If Mimoh had realized that given he could not only outrun a ghost and hold it down by its foot for five minutes when it attempted to fly away... he could pretty much just do away with it too

And the unero numo one-stop solution for getting rid of Haunted before it even started? If Mimoh had just turned around and shown the ghosts his superior 'dancing' or 'acting' skills, I'm pretty sure they'd have 'died laughing' and rested in peace forever more.

Sckrewfel!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn't want to call this 'Random' or 'Arbit' 'cos too many non-special people are calling albums/posts/things that, so I'm calling it Sckrewfel instead. You know. 'Cos no one else has called an album/post/thing that yet.

... Are you starting to understand why the 'special' in 'specially abled' probably refers to me? And also, yes I know Shakespeare said what's in a name, but I mean look at his name and the fact that he was bald.. he was probably just jealous and repressed and did you know it was Freud's birthday last weekend, which, combined with Mother's Day, is just really funny? 

Moving on. I'm high!!!! It's been a while. I've been busy obsessing and being all blah-Bridezilla-y and otherwisely blearghy... but now we're 17 days away and okay, so 17 isn't 10, or even 15, but zomfgwahyowly'all, it's SEVENTEEN. I'm so excited I just want to eat all the cheese in the world and then wash it all up with some fried potatos and end with three zillion pounds of ice cream. 'Cos isn't that how we all respond to excitement? No?

Man I'm making so much sense. And here's a heads-up: this is exactly how much (not!) sense I'm going to make for the next seventeen days, wooooot!!!! Also, just so you know, in case you were worried, all that omnomming's happening in my head. I'm still a ring size four. I checked. HOW AM I GOING TO FIT INTO MY ENGAGEMENT RING???? 

... Okay so backstory: when he proposed, my finger was a size 9 (which in itself is small in a finger size, but it's also my shoe size, and in a shoe size a nine is HUGE but that's not the point except to say that it's SUPER hard finding sexy heels for a frikkin Yeti-woman). By the time we got engaged, it was a 6. Two months ago, it was a 3. So honestly, I'm really proud of myself for even getting to a 4. What the hell kind of freak loses weight on their FINGER? 

This is my last official 'single' week in the city by the way. Tomorrow's my last ever Agarwal Roti dabbahwallah lunch. Sniffle sob. Can you tell that I keep track of everything? I mean EVERYTHING. We've already celebrated our last single monthiversary, the equinox point between the proposal and the marriage, between the engagement and the marriage, between the proposal and when the marriage was MEANT to be (June 29th, btw. Can you imagine my being this high for another MONTH? Hello, spontaneous combustion), the last day in his old 'bachelor pad,' the day I bought the last sari for the wedding (incidentally, 17 dresses for 3 days?? Wtf yo), and numerous other totally sckrewfel but supremely significant things.

WOW. It's all DONE. For REAL. OhmyGOD. 

PS: Dear Bachelorette-Thrower: I hope you see I really don't need alcohol in me. I'm quite.. Akx'y at the moment.

Counting Down.. Or Not.

Me: Lol but I'm getting married in 18 days

Shit, eighteen.

Friend: But your ring should fit your fingeeeeeeeeeeeer!

Omg!

Seriously!

Me: Oh well, its not ten

Or even fifteen

I refuse to take 18 seriously

Friend: 18 might not like that.

18 might push you ahead to 3

Me: Even if 18 likes that, I'm getting to 3 in 15

It's a win-wise lose-lose null tie situation

18's rights are waived

Awkwardddd

We interrupt our frequent wedding telecasts with this special feature on real life. And what a dose of real life it is! Caste is undoubtedly a big deal in South India, particularly Tamil Nadu. I've seen it manifested in big ways, such as the lower-caste woman who had her arm chopped off by her higher-caste employer. I've seen it manifested in subtle ways, like the glasses at home that are for 'known people' and others that are earmarked for 'outsiders'.

I see it all around me, in the comments people make, the stories my friends tell, in the hilarious book 'No Onions Nor Garlic' which, at the end of the day, shouldn't really be funny. But it never came and hit me in the face like it did since I met a certain person a few days back. 

I meet this person on a daily basis, and they're from a minority religion. Everyone else in that group of people just happens to be from a higher-caste Hindu community. I suppose as a result we never really consciously thought certain things through, we're just a bunch of pretty-much-identical-cooking-styles, non-egg eating, right-hand-only, raising-the-glass-when-we-drink type people.

In comes a person who, to be fair, probably had bad experiences with that category of people, given this is Chennai, and the category can be elitist. I sympathize. I know it's hard being the minority and a newcomer. But really - it's like this person is working hard to alienate any sympathy I may have. In the last 3 days of my knowing this person, they have:

1. Asked me if I don't wash my plate before I eat from it, because who knows whether someone else had eaten from it the previous day/touched it since then 

2. Told me pointblank that the reason I'm not eating their food is because I probably think it was cooked in the same dish as some other egg item.. uhm. I'm allergic to beetroots! It wouldn't matter if my mother cooked it.

3. Accused me of not wishing them a good morning in the morning (?!?!?!)

4. Had this conversation at the lunch table:

Person: I swear to god this dish I keep only for purely vegetarian food. But it has garlic.

Me: Don't worry about it, we eat out all the time, right? They probably don't bother separating anything there. So yeah, no big deal.

Person: (to another staunch vegetarian on the table) Oh is it, so liberal. Why don't you try eating chicken then?

Why don't you try shutting the fuck up? It's hard to recreate this scene, I know it sounds like it wasn't that big of a deal, but it could pretty much redefine awkward. There we are, toeing eggshells on the off-chance that someone else from the community potentially hurt the person's sentiments at some point in the past... and then they just go right ahead and toss someone else's sentiments out on a joke. 

It's painful trying to achieve some semblance of normalcy when other people don't necessarily feel like you're normal to begin with.

On My Mind

Lately it seems like all anyone wants to know is how I feel, how ready I am, am I excited, yaddaya. Sometimes, I'm tempted to remind them I have a life outside of the wedding... but then I remember, 'Oh wait, no I don't.' So here's the lowdown on my current state for whoever else asks*.

Above all, I'm curious to know if people will keep asking me questions that only relate to my marital state going forward, eg: 'Are you excited about the marriage?' 'How does it feel being married?' 'How does it feel now that it's a year?' 'Are you used to it yet?' .... because if so, I'd like to suggest alternate conversation topics.

Only kidding. Topmost on my mind is my wedding-obsession, and hoping it's a passing phase. If not, will I be stuck crying over every single wedding blog I look at, ever? To be fair, I cried over them before too, but lately I'm about ten thousand times more emo than usual. 

I blame the meds. Because, at twenty four, for the first time in my life, it looks like I'm hitting puberty. I'm developing pimples and rashes and all kinds of useless things I should have had when I was 13 and didn't. It's actually just a stress reaction, but still, it's hugely scary. I could also put in TMI here about needing to regulate my period for the month because I'm not allowed to get married with it on, but I'll spare you.

Also scary: the nightmares. I'm a really chillaxed person during the day, and all my stress kind of balloons up and goes crazy when I sleep. I usually sleep through my screaming and jumping and running, but it can be discomfitting for those around me. Which is why I'm glad I get to spend the next fifteen days or so all alone at home. Before going over to my parents' house for a week. And then all trooping back over to my house. Or atleast that's the plan, if I don't wig out and decide I don't want to leave office work alone for that long.

Why do I feel so guilty about taking time off for my wedding? I mean, this thing only happens once in my lifetime (that I know of.) It's just... there's no way I can get back to work till June 2nd, and then I'm taking off again June 18th to the 25th, and it just feels like asking for time before my wedding too will be overkill. Then I think that unpaid leaves don't really matter and I can totally just be Bridesy and take time off, but... yeah. So that's really the major thing on my mind right now, not the wedding itself, or anything associated with it.

*Except I think they don't really want to hear about this stuff, so I'll just beam my usual angelic beam and say, 'Oh my god, yes! I'm so excitedddd!' 

Just Friends

When the fiancée says I'm his best friend, I do a little jig inside my head, because it means I'm part of his Godfather-like inner circle of deeply respected and revered advisers who are also cool enough to be like 'maaaachuuuu-' this, and 'baingan-hai-ki-aaloo-hai' that.

When I say the fiancée's my best friend, it means he basically has to listen to hours and hours of 'Zomfgwaaaaf, pretty sariiiiiii! And this one. And this one. Does it go with these earrings? And okay but so what about the chain?'

PS: One month to go. And somewhere along this time, he went from 'Well, you know, I love you, but I don't think we could have been friends otherwise, re,' to 'You're my best friend.' Score, brother.

The Ants go Marching On & On

I'm working from home this week and I've never been happier about it. For starters, Chennai and Bangalore are about the same temperature, but my *house* in Bangalore is way cooler than my *office* in Chennai, so win.

On top of which, for the uninitiated, my job essentially involves a lot of waiting around for other people to execute the things I think of... and while I'm happy to pitch in and execute, that's kind of what they get paid for, so essentially, I'm left with more slack time than I'm used to, and being at home means I actually have something to fill the slack up with.

Stuff like eating aaloo parathas. Looking through old albums. Swapping gossip with the mother. Taking long walks with my parents. And of course addressing four hundred envelopes, giving endless measurements to tailors, shopping for gold, and suchlike. Speaking of... forty four days to go!

The Ants go Marching On & On

I'm working from home this week and I've never been happier about it. For starters, Chennai and Bangalore are about the same temperature, but my *house* in Bangalore is way cooler than my *office* in Chennai, so win.

On top of which, for the uninitiated, my job essentially involves a lot of waiting around for other people to execute the things I think of... and while I'm happy to pitch in and execute, that's kind of what they get paid for, so essentially, I'm left with more slack time than I'm used to, and being at home means I actually have something to fill the slack up with.

Stuff like eating aaloo parathas. Looking through old albums. Swapping gossip with the mother. Taking long walks with my parents. And of course addressing four hundred envelopes, giving endless measurements to tailors, and suchlike. Speaking of... forty four days to go!

The Cutest Cuteness in the History of Cuteness! EVER.

"I like you and I know why.
I like you because you are a good person to like.
I like you because when I tell you something special, you know it's special
And you remember it a long, long time.
You say, Remember when you told me something special
And both of us remember

When I think something is important
you think it's important too
We have good ideas
When I say something funny, you laugh
I think I'm funny and you think I'm funny too
Hah-hah!

I like you because you know where I'm ticklish
And you don't tickle me there except just a little tiny bit sometimes
But if you do, then I know where to tickle you too
You know how to be silly
That's why I like you
Boy are you ever silly
I never met anybody sillier than me till I met you

I like you because you know when it's time to stop being silly
Maybe day after tomorrow
Maybe never

That's because you really like me
You really like me, don't you
And I really like you back
And you like me back and I like you back
And that's the way we keep on going every day

And I like you because when I am feeling sad
You don't always cheer me up right away
Sometimes it is better to be sad
You can't stand the others being so googly and gaggly every single minute
You want to think about things
It takes time

I like you because if I am mad at you
Then you are mad at me too
It's awful when the other person isn't
They are so nice and hoo-hoo you could just about punch them in the nose

I like you because I don't know why but
Everything that happens is nicer with you
I can't remember when I didn't like you
It must have been lonesome then

I like you because because because
I forget why I like you but I do
So many reasons

On the 4th of July I like you because it's the 4th of July
On the 5th of July, I like you too
Even if it was the 999th of July
Even if it was August
Even if it was way down at the bottom of November
Even if it was no place particular in January
I would go on choosing you
And you would go on choosing me
Over and over again

That's how it would happen every time
I don't know why
I guess I don't know why I really like you
Why do I like you
I guess I just like you

I guess I just like you because I like you."

What Men Want

We've this big event coming up so I spent the last hour preparing a couple hundred nametags. It involved a lot of delicately nudging the modesty off a round piece of plastic, then slipping a plastic stick through a tiny hole, before plunging a knob of the stick through a freshly opened hole. 

In short, yes, very Freudian. And yes, by the time I'd done this two hundred times, I really believe I started thinking about sex the way a guy does. Here goes.

- At first, I was super thrilled every time I nudged the plastic covering off and found a hole that hadn't been stretched too wide and/or torn by my manoevres. The sound of the covering making way to uncover a perfect hole was ohoho only.

- Eventually it got a bit boring and I started wondering why this modesty couldn't just undo itself. I mean why must I do all the work? With such patience too, or it just goes phut and tears and THEN it's no use to ANYONE.

- I don't think I really lost respect for any piece of plastic whose modesty came off too fast. Contrarily, I was slightly impatient with those that refused to budge, thinking uncharitable thoughts like 'Frigid bitch.'

- Slipping the stick through a cover... which I equated to putting on a condom... well, easy enough, but what a pain, isn't there any way to skip this nonsense and just get to the point of the chase? Surely if God had intended for this step to be a part of the process he'd have designed the whole thing differently.

- Putting the knob of the stick in the tiny opening within the hole.. oh dear god, why aren't most holes just READY for the stick? Yes, I understand it's a big stick (smirk with pride here) but surely the hole can afford to spread just a little?

- By the time I'd done my fiftieth thrust or so, I found I had it in me to get violent and really shove the stick in the hole if that's what it took. 

- By the hundredth penetration, I was starting to experience performance pressure - every part of me hurt, the stick had to do all the work, the hole just lay back. Even when it was on top, it's really the stick's fault if it doesn't enter firmly enough, and oh man, make it stop, I've had enough, I can't keep doing this!

- The peon came up and went 'Had enough, is it?' Immediately me and my stick went up going 'No, we could do this forever, I'm not, no!'

- I moved to my room to do the last twenty five and found that I'd rather tweet/blog about it than actually do it; if only to brag that I'd holed two hundred (metaphorically) big ones.

Well gentlemen? Have I nailed you or have I nailed you? I'm ready for my penis now, thank you.

Sweet (C) Memories

Us: There's a cockroach in the pasta.
Waiter (looking down, spots it triumphantly): Yes.

... And then he walks away. Oh, Sweet C. We love you. I suppose it's time to come clean and admit we were always delighted when we found a roach in anything, it gave us a chance to re-enact this drama. The time-honored tradition followed where we summoned over the waiter and watched amused as he looked at us and then the plate, clearly not getting why this may be a problem.

This in turn enabled us to scream 'Cockroach, cock-roach, cockroachhhhh,' at him, as if this would make some kind of a difference. After about ten minutes, he invariably trudged away with the dish and returned a minute later... having just removed the roach and brought back the same plate.

College haunts are the best, aren't they? They've a way of building up your resistance so you don't get sick from anything you eat afterwards. And Sweet C, being located right behind our college, was heaven itself. We knew the waiters in and out (really, we had their mobile numbers and everything!) and they came to our rescue often when the manager wanted us kicked out for either swearing really loudly, or running around throwing food, or both. Hey, we were young. Also, yes, we still do that. Shut up.

So anyway, last weekend, most of us were free (which is harder to coordinate than it seems, Sex and the City is so fake) and decided to head over to Sweet C to partake of our favorite sport - watching the waiters run down the stairs in those cute little aprons that tied up at the back. Only.. it wasn't there. Neither the aprons, nor the waiters, nor indeed Sweet C itself. Some stupid yoga place stood there instead. This is such a loss to mankind. I don't know how the girls from our college will survive now. Where will they go for nourishment? How will they build up resistance? Where will they hide when they bunk college? Tsk.

April, Come Fastly. And Bring My Sanity With You, Please.

October last year to March this year has been a crazy amount of planning and nail-biting and planning some more... and while that's been fun (not!), I can't wait for April, 'cos hopefully that's when it all comes together!

... That's the plan anyway.

The last couple of months have been so tense, it's only now that I'm finding the time + space + energy to sit back and rediscover the part of me that finds the detailing excitingggggg. With all the traditional details out of the way and both families happy, I can take a deep breath and plunge into the aspects that I claimed for my own ages ago. 

Fun stuff like the reception, and the invites, and the music, and things like that, which possibly don't matter to anyone except me. It finally finally finally feels like this wedding may be ours again, instead of just the families'. Hurray!!

Upmanship Redefined

In response to this:

Me: I should've said Mumtaz, but you see, it's hot so occasionally I make mistakes.. but I admit to them. Because I'm a bigger person than you are. So that's okay. Just so we're clear. I'm admitting to having made an error. *Applause*.

Missing Me

How come I don't write like I did in 2006? I wish I could say it's because I've moved past the anguished angst-y stage so I no longer need melodramatic introspection. The true story, though, is that I never give my thoughts any time to build up into a post anymore - they're invariably whittled away into statuses, or posts, or tweets, or pings.

I'm not sure if I can break that mold, but sometimes I read posts which I remember feeling my way through, and I know I need to turn out at least a few. If I don't, I'll have nothing to look back at when I'm forty but an empty shell of posts which may as well have been social networking updates.

Mirage

Us

Girl

Eulogy to the End

Boy

No

Existentialism

Wish Upon A Star Tonight

For Me

If I Were Home

Shadows

Ex-BFF

Musings at Midnight

The Artist & The Muse

Frames

Scheherzade on Strike

Sfumato

Fetters

You'll Come Back

Silence

Thinklet
Happy's Endings

Love, Actually

Pétiller

Resilience

Over & Out

I Am A Duracell Battery

Friday
4:00AM Woken up by urgent text from friend, slink out to meet her
5:00AM Beach walk
6:00AM Drop off a parcel for the friend at a school
7:00AM Finish walking, head home for breakfast, house cleaning, et al
9:00AM Office
6:00PM Walk 5km, go to my aunt's place
7:30PM Head out for a family dinner
10:45PM Finish dinner, head to another aunt's place
11:30PM Get to sleep

Saturday
4:00AM Wake up for yoga with the relatives since I *am* crashing at their place
5:00AM Head to my place, go to the beach for my walk et al
7:00AM Breakfast & lunch readyings
9:00AM Office
7:00PM Leave office, run to the library
8:00PM Socialize with the cousins
10:30PM Finally get home and crash

Sunday
5:00AM Wake up, do the beach walk
6:30AM Shop for a potluck later in the day, pick up pies from a bakery
7:00AM Head home, iron, do breakfast, do the washing up
7:45AM Office
9:00AM Leave office, power walk over to the TS
9:30AM Meeting at the TS
11:40AM Potluck brunch with a bunch of friends, their families, and our family friends
2:00PM Back to office
5:22PM Death.

I was meant to meet another friend, but oh my god, I'm a zombie. That said, this weekend was SO awesome. I totally wish all my weekends were just like this!

I Love My Friends Becauuuuuuse

- It doesn't matter that we're engaged/married/seriously committed, we still find it in us to create a mock 'fashion show' to find Mr.Shady, ie: the shadiest groom/wife picked out by our peers.

- When I pass on the word that there's a couple indulging in excessive PDA on the beach, two out of three responses say 'Omg, take a video, we'll figure out how to use it later.'

- We all still look young enough to get away with not tipping any waiter we don't want to tip, without overly incurring his wrath.

... And that's just three reasons. Man, I love being back home. 

Score!

Being the youngest (by a huge margin!) at my workplace ensures I get all kinds of special treatment, from warm chilli cheese toast in the morning ('I made it for the kids ma.') to random boxes of chocolates ('You can afford to eat these at your age.') Of course it also means lunchtime conversations unerringly veer towards menopause and mothers-in-law with a healthy dose of 'FML, so I'm gonna FYL.' in between. The Y being me of course. 

Apparently, with my own house at 24 and a career to boot, my life is unfairly smooth. Let's forget the fact that I totally do my own cleaning, cooking, washing, ironing, the works. At. 24. With. A. Job. Since they can't pick on me for any of that, all I hear all the time is 'Oh, you don't eat enough vegetables, no wonder you're so thin.' Yeah, the 12 km I walk in a day? Just may have something to do with it, sisters.

And no vegetables? Really? Me? Dude. My average salad has more vegetables than most people's weekly intake combined. Tell me I don't eat rice, or bread, or butter, or oil, I totally agree. But no vegetables? Really?? As I write this, I'm chuckling at how ludicrous this whole thing sounds and how totally inconsequential. And really, it is. I know it is. 

The reason I bring it up is because after five months of being nagged at, today, my coworkers sheepishly took a... wait for it... fourth helping of my lunch. Woohoo and a woot, this is more win than the time I racked up a 10% conversion rate (before you ask, typical email marketing campaigns get a 1% conversion rate). And now I'm just showing off. So okay bye.

The One Where I Rant 'Cos I'm Mopey

I hate Australia. It's stupidly far away from here, the time zone *looks* like it'll be compatible with ours but really isn't, and it makes people sick and I hate it. It's hard enough being in a long distance relationship with someone in another city, without adding a continent between us to boot. What is this, revenge for all the times I've joked about how we interact more often than couples in the same city?

Grouch. A month suddenly feels like 2.5 million plus seconds, and believe me, I'm feeling each and every bloody one, and there's just way too many.

PS: This isn't PMS, it's the fact that I kinda miss Hyderabad... McDonalds for one, Subway for another, Dominos for a third. 

...And the boy too, of course. 

PS2: I talk about food a lot more than I eat it. I'm really just a big fat girl on the inside.

The Ten Commandments Every Not-So-Smugly-Married Should Adopt

I'm not going to pretend I don't believe in marriage or that I'm not super thrilled about marrying MM, but in the interest of preserving sanity, yours and mine, I hereby solemnly swear to abide by the following ten commandments:

1. I promise never to start putting up pictures of things I've made or recipes I think are original. I've been cooking for too long now for it to be anything new, and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

2. I promise not to have kids for a good four-five years. What on earth is the point of getting married now if not to enjoy these interim years before you biologically need to have kids if you ever plan on having any?

3. I promise the husband will not tag along on all our outings. He has friends of his own, as do I, and while socializing and fraternizing is all very well, well, we're not exactly glued at the hip. 

4. I promise I know what I look like, and that won't miraculously change just because I'm married - ie: my display picture will still be *me* not *us* and especially not marriage pictures of us together.

5. I promise not to smugly sit back and put on weight just because I've ensnared a mate... I'm obsessively healthy and that will never change.

6. I promise not to cootchiecoo with the boy via FB statuses. That's kind of what real life is for.

7. I promise not to take you seriously if you gush about how awesome we look together and how gorgeous I am... it absolutely won't go to my head because I've faked the gushing often enough by now.

8. I promise not to put up clingy huggy honeymoon pictures - we're going to some place fabulous so I can't assure *no* pictures, but I can assure pictures of the variety I'd take if I were traveling alone.

9. I promise not to torture you guys with affectionate name calling in public places or within hearing vicinity of anyone. Because... wtf yo. Not cute.

10. I promise not to slobberslurplickdrool fall into his arms like I've been attracted by a magnet, in reel life, in real life, or anywhere else if I know you can see us. I'm perfectly capable of walking by myself without falling over. Well. Not quite. But if I fall, I fall.

Noone's Killing Aruna

There are one or two side roles I'm inordinately fond of in Noone Killed Jessica - Peter for one, his daughter for another. I like characters that believe in fighting some fights which need to be fought, even if they aren't their own. Should they also have fought for something else? Maybe. Some of us fight for what's fashionable, some for what we know of. We're all shades of gray. But the important thing is to fight. 

I've been told time and again to pick my battles, to let some things go, to at least check circumstances before I plunge right in kicking and flailing. I don't think of myself as an activist per se, more as someone who lives in a democratic country and is very aware of it.

More often than not, I stand up for the lesser known underdog. I believe the well known underdogs get their say, that their battles are won, that... I mean, just look at Jessica Lall. Then again, look at Aruna Shanbaug. Can you? I can't do it without crying at the unfairness of it all.

A 25-year old career-oriented woman, excited about her upcoming marriage, a woman who fought some of the battles she thought were worth fighting. She could be me. It's scary how easily she could be me or anyone else on this planet. A rapist, a fucking disgrace to humanity, walks free after a mere seven years in prison, while a woman is not allowed the dignity to die in peace thirty seven years after all dignity was robbed from her. 

Like I was telling someone, this isn't about feminism at all, it's about basic human rights and the ball-lessness of our legal system disgusts me. Our Supreme Court hides behind flimsy curtains of law because they're afraid to fight a battle which NEEDS to be fought dammit, even as large groups of people raise their voice, actually remembering something that's worth remembering for a change... and none of it changes anything.

Aruna Shanbaug's case is one of the few things on the planet that can render me helpless, incoherent, in tears no matter how long it's been since the incident. Blog posts don't change a verdict, my fighting several battles don't change the world. It's no use wanting to castrate that bastard, to reverse the SC's decision, to turn back time, to give Aruna a normal life... nothing takes the fight out of me like this case. 

That said - please. Google her. Read her story. Let's, at the very least, not forget. And let's feel some guilt, on the behalf of people who don't. Let's feel some shock, because this isn't just another casualty number in the papers, to be seen and ignored. Let's try to stay human in the face of inhumanity. Because sometimes, when voices aren't heard, and nothing you can say will change a thing, that's all that's left to do. 

Hung Up on Aircel

'Oh Aircel. We're not dating, you know. There's no need to call me up every hour on the hour.'

Judging by the torrent of likes and comments on that Facebook status, Aircel believes in polygamy. However, there's no need for me to feel un-loved... Aircel's handpicked me for a whole new level of intimacy. Why else would they randomly debit amounts of 30 and 15 within a week, claiming they want to send me kaadhal kavidhai (that's love poems, for all you non-Tamizh-ites) and Melody tunes (I don't even want to know what that is).

You've to give phone companies some credit - they certainly know their pick-up lines (har, pun). Lately, I've been calling them more often than they've been calling me - albeit to complain about these random tactics. I get a standard apology that sounds about as heartfelt as their automated recording, and they assure me they'll credit my account within 48 hours, while I try to ignore the fact that it took them less than a minute to debit it in the first place.

I feel like I'm in a relationship with a spendaholic who's intent on blowing my money in tiny installments. So let me try saying this just one more time. Aircel, honey. I'm just not that into you. Please. Stop. Or I really will break up with you.

87

You know how they say your wedding day's the best day of your life? Yeah, I suspect it's only true because all the madness leading up to it finally comes to an end. It's like when bad plays get overwhelming ovations since everyone's so relieved to be going home. Like those near death moments from which people return, suddenly loving life all the more.

I'm.

Not.

Even.

Kidding.

By the time that blessed day finally rolls around, I really think I'll snatch up that umbrella and be the one telling my father-in-law that I'm going off to Kasi to be a sanyaasi. 

Soaringgggg

Please note the pun, because I deserve to be all cheesy and lame for at least 24 hours... we're engaged, we're engaged, we're engaaaaaaged :)

... I planned to be ten times more excited than this yesterday, but what can I say, it's tiring and frustrating going through pujais and rehearsed smiles and pattu, only to realize you can't even go back to the same house at the end of it all.

100 days to the wedding, thank the lord for my sanity.

To Be Young

Ok here's the thing - I've never, like, NEVER, had a boyfriend AT Valentine's time, EVER. In. My. Life. Nonetheless, every year I expect no less than 8-10 valentines, and god knows they've come to mean more than any boyfriend-given valentine can. Have I mentioned I've the most awesome friends in the world?

And so yeah, I really resent the hell out of the whole bitching-about-Valentines thing, 'cos to me Valentine's is all about the magic my friends create just from being there, no matter who else comes and goes. As for boyfriends, well paha, IMHO, they need to be awesome to their girlfriends all year long - Valentine's is just kind of a good reminder.

That said, I'm not above being all aww yay, look at all the love on Feb 14... just like I'm not above being aww, yay, look at all the joy on Dec 25th. To summarize, a conversation I had with my senior from college:

K: You're just happy all the time, evil chirpy person!

Me: Hell yeah, I'm too young to know any better :)

Type & The Kitchen

Would your directions to the airport go 'Step out of your house facing due north, get on to the main road, take the first left at XYZ building, then go straight for about 2km/20 minutes, you'll see a fork, where....' or 'I looked it up on Google Maps and I know the bus that goes to the school near it. Get on the bus, get off at the school, then ask around.' 

If you're curious, this is one of the ways to differentiate Sensing types (people who rely on their five senses) from Intuitives (people who rely primarily on the sixth sense? Lol). Being a true-blue Intuitive, I wondered how other Intuitives fare in the kitchen. Speaking for myself, most recipes make me go 'Well, duh.' 

Just name a dish, and, if I've eaten it before, I can figure out the ingredients. Because the ingredients have to be mixed in a certain order so they don't burn/stay raw, it's a small common sensical jump to figure out the steps involved. And then you cook it! Or so it seems to me anyway, and, I'm sure, most Intuitives agree.

Howeverrrr. And here's the catch. There are times when I'm midway through and suddenly remember a detail, like a spice, which should've been added earlier. I put it in and make the recipe work, but my mood's ruined, and it just doesn't feel the same. Nor can I be bothered writing it all down and then following the steps. That just isn't how my brain works. 

My solution is to reach for the phone and call my mom. She's a super versatile cook who makes anything taste divine. Her food cures me faster than medicine can. I smile for the rest of the day.  Best of all... she's an Intuitive, but one with tons of experience, who's unlikely to overlook anything.

I love those phone conversations - she patiently listens to my detailed narrative and only contributes when I ask 'Did I miss out on something obvious?' Because, really, that's the only thing an Intuitive ever needs to know. Irony fully intended.

Pfaff + Perversion = Epic Time Pass

While I love-love-love my not-so-new-anymore job, I occasionally experience a twinge of Excel withdrawal syndrome, where a part of my brain automatically translates day-to-day events into formulas or chart graphics. Plus, you know, I definitely miss talking about 'penetration rates' with a straight face.

... With due grimaces at Powerpoint for making this JPG far less pretty than the PPT version. 

Love Shove & All That Rubbish

Can you believe the lowe tag made its long-winded way back to me? Which is not to say that I invented it, but really, it's been more than a year since I answered this. Which is whyyyy it may be fun doing it now. Here goes. 

PS: I'd tag you to do it but I'm fairly sure I didn't give out this URL to more than 4 people, so whoever comes across this, all yours in direct proportion to your level of boredom.

1.  If your lover betrayed you what would your reaction be?
Gravity defying pink elephants with the moon on their backs are likely to fly by before this will ever happen. So null and void.

2. If you could have one dream come true which one would it be? 
My dreams tend to be nightmares, I prefer real life. And that's going beyond awesomely, so I'm good thanks. (My God, I'd probably ask passing genies for three wishes I can grant them).

3. Whose butt would you like to kick! 
Ehm, lesseeeee. Oooh, oh, arrogant arranged-marriage maapilais who think bride-viewing is synonymous with horse-racing. Also, people who end their questions with exclamation marks. See above.

4. What would you do with a billion dollars? 
Innnvest it? Till the exchange rate's better anyway. Bloody firangs. Can't do anything right.

5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
Nope, who would I go to bitch to about my boyfriend then?

6. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?
Loving good food and being loved by good sleep. Wottey wottey.

7. How long would you wait for someone you love?
Depends. Are they in the loo? Asleep? Across seven oceans? In a coma?

8. If the person you like is secretly attached, what would you do?
Advise them to grow a pair 'cos no one deserves to be a 'secret'. That's how shrinks make money, y'all.

9. If you could root for one social cause which one would it be?
Now that the cheeseburst pizza's back, ehm... registered marriages, the abolishment of gold and pattu from Iyer functions, reverse feminism (ie: I am a woman and I will fucking sit at home all day if I want to, you go work.)

10. What takes you down the fastest?
Continual dedicated research shows that walking downwards on a moving escalator's the easiest way.

11. What do you loathe most in people? 
People. Tralala.

12. What's your fear?
Solitude. It makes me obsessive. Just come see how many times I sweep my house in a day.

13. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?
I'm never going to be poor, 'cos hi, I've a degree and can well work for money. I'm never going to be rich, 'cos hi, I don't really give too much of a damn about money. As for single or married... does the guy believe in reverse feminism or not?

14. What is the first thing you do when you wake up? 
Run to the beach. Yeah, I love my life too.

15. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously who would you pick? 
Me? Clearly I've issues that need to be sorted before I make a decision.

16. Would you give all in a relationship?
What else is the point? Loser question.

17. What's eating you now?
The need to pee.

18. Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?
At the moment, in this particular relationship. Otherwise being single's quite fun.

Eat to Live

'She's starving on some diet fad, stupid woman. I only have to go do everything, right from chopping the vegetables onwards. She doesn't even have a maid ya.'


... I hear the disgust, the complaining, the anger. What I don't hear is any semblance of pity, a cursory realization that this woman can't help it. Do we blame people for being schizophrenic too? Is that really something they can control? 


Does it really have to be pointed out that it takes a certain level of mental disorder to take on all the chores when all you're eating for days on end is a bowl of fruits and some curd?


I'm sick of 'sane' people assuming that this is something that's so common sensical, the other person's willfully indulging in some passing whim. That sort of flippant stubbornness doesn't result in the manic energy you derive even when you're barely eating anything. It doesn't account for your exercising and walking and working and functioning on less calories than a one year old. 


Or do people realize this, and prefer taking the tone above? Is it simpler to dismiss the problem rather than taking the pains to actually figure out how deep rooted it is? Either ways, I hope that poor woman has some family that's more empathetic than the person I heard talking about her.