The Groom's Still Waiting at The Altar

Unsolicited advice comes quick to us Indians. This Diwali, I met the neighbours by getting sweets for them. One of my neighbours,a housewife asked me the basics and then advised me to get married before it is too late. Whoa! So did my school friend's mother. I know it is kindness that makes them say this, but have they no clue how insulting it can be. It is as if they are implying that you have been unlucky and that your life is meaningful without a man. As if you have committed some crime and as if you are blighted until your parting is red, you have a ring on your ring finger and are wearing a fat mangalsutra around your neck like a yoke.

Its not as if I am opposed to marriage, its just that I'm allergic to the concept of an Indian marriage and I do not want an unfair relationship and my relationships are my business and no one else's. Single women in India have no privacy. Everyone wants to know everything about you and just what your misfortune is, that you are still single, how much you earn, do you not want children, are you barren, do you have some wasting disease, are you grossly overweight? I already tell people that I am single because I find Indian men not nice enough and very judgemental and boring, now I should just scream it from the rooftops. It seems everytime I am social, I have my face slapped hard with unnecessary questions and advice. And then people wonder why I am so asocial!

Desolation Row

Despite the fact that I hated Delhi's culture (or rather lack of), boorish natives and rudeness and brusqueness, I have fond memories. It must have been the romance of college, youth and the feeling of standing on the brink of things to come. I remember sauntering down sarojini nagar, shopping, slurping on fruit slushes and drinking juice. Watching TV day before and yesterday, bought those scenes back to me, except I was scared, horrified and disgusted. This is the time of the year when festivities start in India. Everyone is on the Diwali/ Id buzz, including myself. Targetting people at this time seems just so disgusting, what kind of people are these? I wonder who to thank for the bloodiest, blackest Diwali ever.

Peace

I shall not be posting for sometime. Maybe a week or so. Maybe more. I don't know.

What?

What is fame jodi? I have no idea. I have no idea why so many people become celebrities these days and have their stupid mugs plastered on every awning, billboard and paper plate. This is today's petty annoyance brought forward by the strain on the scant 350 gossamer strings that control my very existence.

Moody Blues

I'm a sunshine person. The stronger the sun shines, the happier I am. Its been raining like a tropical rainforest for the last two days here and my gloom has returned.

Games People Play

This post has been inspired from a post by THIS blogger and I had posted the first five on his comments. The sad part is that most of these are based on true events, people and some also to hearsay. This is also dedicated to Indian men who play games. You know who you are! Continuing that thread of thought, here is a post dedicated to some men I have known...

*I once knew a man who wrote poems in bed – to his mother.

*I once knew a man who worked as an sales executive at a big multinational – he turned out to be a cashier at Walmart.

*I once knew a man who claimed that size did not matter – he was 4 feet tall.

*I once dated a man who declared at heart he was a family man – his wife called me the next day.

*They say most men are animals in bed – pigs.

* I once dated a stockbroker who claimed he traded in bluechip stocks - Enron, Tyco, Halliburton and Worldcom.

* I knew a man who said he was a child at heart - He was 16 and wanted entry to a club.

* I knew a man who claimed money did not matter - He was bankrupt.

* I met a man who claimed his family was an institution - The institution of mental health.

* I knew a man once who claimed he knew many chicks intimately - He had a poultry farm.

Party Time

Planning a party is fun, fun, fun for an anal person like me. So, with much pleasure I draw up lists, send invitations and plan entertainment. If you want to thrill me, ask me to plan a party.

Broke

My laptop has conked off. No more blogging till late in the night. Thank you laptop, you served me well.

Itch

Yesterday night I had an allergic reaction. My body got itchy and splotchy all over and the itch got unbearable at midnight. So I popped in an antihistamine and so am still groggy. Work + Grogginess = Carelessness. And so the saga continues.

Bad Ending

I'm not happy with bad endings. It means there has been a failure of some sort. So today as my day ends, I go about clearing my desk sadly. One one hand things are working out so smoothly and on the other hand, there has been a bad closure. I had given it attention, support, energy and patience. I tried to grow something and have it thrive, but I had probably chosen a weak sapling and I have watched it shrivel up and dry in front of my eyes, despite repeated fertilizing and watering and tending and some sleepless nights.

I am told that everything does not succeed and that one can't win all the time. Still, I am sad. I know, though I can start all over again. I'm young and still full of energy and don't take no for an answer. I can't help feeling disappointed though.

On The Road

You can sit back and rest, I will have covered all eventualities.

1. Break a nail? No problem, I have my plastic file and emery board (Travel safe, you know!) ready.

2. Thirsty? Water, diet coke or buttermilk?

3. Hungry? Crackers, chewing gum (in three flavours but all sugarfree) and an apple?

4. Bored? You have the choice of a novel, assorted magazines OR music on my IPod. Sorry about the Dylan though.

5. Dirty hands? Here's some industrial strength wet tissue, dry tissue to dry the hands and some anti-bacterial cleanser.

6. Feeling smelly? Deo and some L'occitane?

7. Feeling dry? Nivea or Biotherm?

8. Afraid of leaving behind papers? I have all scanned on a CD, just to be safe.

9. Crumpled, dirty clothes? Use my spare tee?

I have tried to travel light, but the stress just kills me. What embarasses me is that I normally am well-prepared for all eventualities, even if I am not travelling. Did I mention a sewing-kit? No? That's for when a button breaks or a hem unravels and one runs out of safety pins. Heh.

On Writing

I have to write a letter today which in effect says, "I am a dumb fool, we have been dumb fools, you may laugh now while I eat humble pie." I have dragged my feet over this one, but today, I had crossed my heart I would do this. Arghhh!

Mother of all Annoyances

Babies in airplanes or rather toddlers. I CAN'T FUCKING STAND THEM! Some babies are nice and coo and gurgle and play rather amicably and dribble rather fetchingly. I don't mind them. However, some kids transform into devil spawns the moment they board the aircraft. Like the kid in the front seat yesterday. Awful! He yelled for more than half of the flight. Hit the airhostess every time she passed by. Hit his parents and elder sister. Tried to pull my hair, threw a heavy water bottle on my lap causing his father to disbalance and my knee was hurt really badly in the process. It is aching even now. All his proud parents offered by way of explanation was, "bacche me badi jaan hai." (Rough translation - kid is lively) Lively! Bah! Evil is more like it.

Thank You TCT

I get a morbid kick of reading The Calcutta Times and seeing that Rimjhim celebrates her birthday with friends or Kewal has a drink with buddies or better still Sweetie inaugurates shop or para puja (No names changed, all names have actually appeared in TCT at some point or the other). I can't decide whether it amuses me or annoys me more. On good days, I laugh my guts out at the sorry losers drinking IMFL (India Manufactured Foreign Liquor) at some sidey Calcutta Club (not THE Calcutta Club, just another para club in Calcutta is what I mean, not that the booze in THE Calcutta Club is any better, still!) and on bad days the wrong English annoys me.

I do want to thank TCT because it helps me in spotting fake celebrities like really ugly male models and tollywood actors (I know so many cute bengali men, so why is it that bengali actors and models are invariable ugly? Why?), actresses (oh sorry June Maliah, I meant ACTOR - for some strange reason all female actresses these days are referred to as ACTORS - another annoyance really) and ribbon-cutters that TCT is bent on branding celebrities. I also get a kick when I recognise fake celebrities and see that I was right, most of them ARE desperate wannabes.

Bengali Beauties as observed in Maddox Square OR Fashion Victims 2005

1. The double trouble - Hair identically streaked/ coloured in red and the remainder of the hair dye probably used as blusher on face, silk saris with heavy zari border screaming, "attention!" Eyes lined with lots of kohl, eyeliner to durga proportions, noserings a la sania mirza, green/gray contact lenses, long nails tinted red and bright red sindoor in their partings. Scary movie III - you have new stars. For a minute, I think all of us were rendered speechless by the spectacle of double trouble.
2. The shoulderless wonder - Plump adolescent in shoulderless edged with sequinned top. The horror! Considering the fact that the mom was a variant of double trouble, what does one say?
3. Sari or Curtain or Madame half-n-half - Draped in a sari that was half fuchsia satin with a aanchal that was all crochet and bad lace at that.
4. Sequin Overdose - Pink, green, blue, red, yellow, violet sequins everywhere. I was blinded by the spectacle to make out what the dress actually was.
5. Leather/ Pleather - Bright red leatherish plastic shirt making one wonder, does the temperature in Calcutta not affect you at all?

Pity I'm leaving town today. I would have so loved to people watch some more.

What's love got to do with it?

I've always had an exit option. ALWAYS. In my heart I know its a mere motif for cowardice, but I like to have that option. This time around, I have none. It could be because of my advancing years, but I wanted to have the pleasure of saying, "With you, this time, there are no fallback options, none." I have this and state it not to balance scales in my favour or to further gilt my wings, but just because I don't feel like having one. I'm growing older and all the drama and playing tires me out. Should I reach out for my rheumatism medicine already?

Greed - One More Cup Of Coffee

One more course
One more file
One more Letter
One more article
One more issue
One more case law
One more assignment
One more review
One more Project (One? Hah! Who am I kidding?)
One more degree
One more gadget
One more raise
One more rung up the ladder
One more dress
One more pair of shoes
One more cup of coffee

One part of me wants to say - Stop! No more! Mostly, however every fibre in my body says, "Ok! I think I can handle this as well, all I need to do is cancel my plans for this weekend as well. What next?"

Wrath

My driver has decamped with my cellphone and money (That I had given him to pay bills). Should I stop trusting people? I don't think so. I guess I shall just direct my wrath on curses. I hope his (driver's) wife cheats on him and bears him illegitimate children and is a slattern to boot. That's me. I don't get angry with major losses, I just lose my temper at minor inconveniences.

Sloth

I was too slow to say sorry and I shall regret that for a long, long time.

Gluttony

I am finally done with one course out of the three I am doing this year. It went well, my reviews were satisfactory and I made great friends. My year is ending with good closures and the glutton for punishment that I am, I have already committed myself for further studies, endearing myself to my tutors and bosses and to the prospect of a further deterioration of my fragmented social and love life.

I celebrated and toasted the end of my toughest course with this -

This baby's now all mine.