you get 100 marks for the right answers

Since nothing remotely exciting, upsetting, grandly happy or insanely mad is happening to my life right now (except for work, which is all these emotions rolled into one and should be a separate blog altogether) I’ve been killing time doing this odd tag.

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it.
On my forehead. Like a third eye, only much smaller. I wish it was a romantic devdas-esque story behind it. Or even some violent domestic abuse kinds that makes its way to the newspaper headlines, but sadly, that is not the case. I was just a hyper, hysterical child of 6 running furiously around the house when I banged myself against the door handle.

2. What is on the walls in your room?
I’m moving homes right now. The only things left in the house is lots of cupboard boxes with trash stuff that I don’t particularly remember buying. And the wall is covered with hooks and nails in odd places where some painting and pictures were hung. Ugly, if I must say.

3. What does your phone look like?
Black, blue and silver. And whatever was black and blue is peeling off to reveal more silver. Give it a few more months and it’ll turn into a brand new silver phone. Either that, or you could consider buying me a new phone. My birthday isn’t that far away you know.

4. What music do you listen to?
Currently the soundtrack of Great Expectations. Otherwise, anything goes. Usually changes depending on alcohol levels in the body.

5. What is your current desktop picture?
A pair of bright green chappals with pink flowers and pink straps and my toes, with the same shade of green nail-paints curling up on them.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
Sanity. Some directions. And some closure on a few things.

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Yes.

8. Are your parents still together?
No. And sometimes they just wish they were. And sometimes I wish they'd just shut up and move on with their lives.

9. What are you listening to?
You haven’t been reading this post carefully enough are you? Maybe you can tell me what you are listening to, in that case.

10. Do you get scared of the dark?
No.

11. The last person to make you cry?
P. Mom. And the maid. All simultaneously in the morning.

12. What kind of hair/eye type do you like on the opposite sex?
I believe I’ve gotten smarter and grown up. These childish ‘lists’ of what your ideal man/woman should be is pointless. Really. A great sense of humour. Nice looking to your senses. And a half-way decent human being who can live with your quirks and craziness is like hitting the jackpot.

13. Do you like pain killers?
Lets just say you need painkillers at times. Liking or not is not in your hands. Its really not a choice.

14. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
No.

15. Favourite pizza topping?
Pepperoni with extra cheese.

16. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Home-cooked mutton curry with boiled rice.

Now will I Love Lucy, Su, Chandni & Once Again pretty please do this as well?

ps. Once Again, you're yet to do the last tag. I know I'm just banging my head against a wall here.

This is not good

Happiness isn’t happening here. So if you are looking for love, joy and free sex, please move on.

We shall talk about a great Indian occurrence called a Wedding.
And if you’re a woman, you’d pretty much know what freaking stress that is.
If you’re a man, you’d know the amount of alcohol that flows out in one. And about uber-posh hotel bathrooms turning into a tsunami wrecked area within a few hours.

So then. This Wedding is happening to me. I know I make it sound like a disaster, but then, it pretty much is.
Now I know that its supposed to be the happiest moment and special day of my life and all that; but we’ve decided to grow up and become world-weary and cynical and realize that fairytales are imaginary crap doled out by people who were pissed drunk at some party and needed to make some sort of a living to pay for their lifestyles and expenses, let’s skip the happiness & joy part. Ok?
Special it is. Because I’m knowingly making the biggest mistake of my life. So it shall hold super special memories for me till I live.
But I digress.
Coming back to the Wedding.
Since its mine, I have to pretend to be a bitchy bride who’s extremely interested in trousseau, shopping, fooding & lodging for guests, and buying jewelry.
Reality is I couldn’t give a shit about most of these things.

So instead, I pretend to be the bitchy bride who’s extremely interested in doing all of the above, but since she has to work and pay rent and buy food to feed her ever so slowly receding stomach, doesn’t have the time.
The good thing about it is everyone else is working hard at doing my job. Even my shoes are being bought by the Flatmate since she rather buy shoes than sit at home.
I rather sit at home and watch TV.


Tempers are flaring everywhere. My phone bills are soon going to be stuff legends are made of.
And while all this happens, I have to keep the chin-up and smile and pretend I’m having fun.

Pretend that its fun to waste so much money to feed 700 odd people. And buy unnecessary stuff. And throw bachelorette parties where everyone wants to get drunk at my expense.
Excuse me, don’t we do that every second week already? Getting drunk and flirting and bringing home strange men at night, only to forget their names the next morning is pretty regular. So can we all please treat it like that? The W-word just makes everything non-fun and stresses me out. Get it?
Pretend that its fun to have conversations with the in-laws over some stupid fuckshit gifts.
Crap.

And now the interesting bit - I’m scared of commitments. With anyone. With everyone. I’m no longer going to be single. Footloose and fancy, yes, but no, not single.
Double.
And if possible, more complicated. Decisions become joint. I don’t like that word already while I’m typing it. Paperwork increases. And slamming doors and walking out, or throwing P out will no longer be an easy option.
Breaking-up with a nasty sms and a nastier phone call will be history too. It’ll actually cost me money to separate. With lawyers charging by the hour.
Am I expected to do housework? And will my credit card statements be checked by others? Am I supposed to act and behave differently? Which side of the bed is P going to take up? What if its my side? Do I really have to go through all this?
Is The Man going to turn up? Would it hurt him to see me getting married to someone else?
Should I keep meeting The Man even after the paperwork is over?
And lastly, is it possible that I can stay at your place for a few days in the first week of December? Before I find a safe place to hide and call it home. I promise I shall carry only essentials and not my entire luggage. I’m also hoping some weight-loss shall happen by then. So I’ll take up very little space you see.

&%$*()(

I love the way tears mix with kaajal and drip-drop down the cheeks, changing its course, moving ever so slightly to reach the corners of your mouth. Inviting itself. To sample it. Like wine.
And I also wonder how I can find misery so romantic.
Anyone who reads this blog happens to be a shrink? I think I need you more than any stupid person now.

Ooh LalaLala

I’ve been tagged and I’m supposed to make a list of few of my favourite things. I promise I wouldn’t let cynicism creep in and ruin this post.

1.
Often enough, one wakes up, still hazy, full of dreams, unsure of the surroundings. Peek out of the blanket. Pat around for the phone to see the time. And out of the blue, it hits you that it’s a Saturday. You smile. And hide yourself back under the covers, happy in the realization that you can sleep for a few hours more.
This is almost as good as any orgasm.

2.
When the stores go on sale. Any store. High-end, low-end, no-end. Small shops and boutiques. It makes me very happy to buy clothes, shoes, accessories and everything thing that’s vital to my existence in this world on discount.
Ps. Given this, technically every 3 months there’s a fat chance that I’m very very happy.

3.
Fitting into clothes that I wore when I was in college.

4.
Bumping into old friends. The kinds, who’ve been close to you at one point, but over time, marriages and jobs, they’ve drifted apart. And no, the whole world isn’t on orkut, or facebook.
Anyhow. You bump into them one fine day, catch up on drinks (or coffee, if you must) and pick-up things from where you left them. And it seems silly why you lost touch in the first place to begin with. Yes, it’s good to get back (and not in the nasty way) with people.

5.
Home food. Or cooked meals.
Note to myself : Today when I go back home, I should cook something instead of watching random television and ordering nonsense.

6.
Watching random television.
You’d be amazed at the trash dished out on tv all day. And you’d be amazed at you ability to just plonk yourself in bed, drink lots of diet-coke and keep watching them.

7.
A sky splattered in shades of purple and pink. Evenings preferable.

8.
Visiting my mother’s place after months, and realizing that my bedroom is untouched. Everything is kept as is. Just where I left them. It means a lot to me that my ma resisted her temptation for months to change things around my space and do her own thing.

9.
A good, bitchy gossip session. Especially one where you realize some of the people you hate have lives more fucked up than yours. Its nasty. And vindictive, I know I know. But what to do. It makes me happy. (Guess this says a lot about what a sad person I am!)

10.
Waking up in the morning. And noticing that the zit that mysteriously appeared last night, has now mysteriously disappeared.

As for tagging others, OnceAgain & Chandni, do it!

I've got an empty wallet and all the love in the world

While OnceAgain is so excited about his birthday and the gifts that’ll follow, I’ve been battling my own birthday experiences.
I hate August, September, October & November.
Most of my friends decided to come out of their cocoons and announce their arrival to the world in these months.
I have no friend who’s born in March. April even. At least I’d have a very legitimate excuse of tax-planning and tax-paying for my lack of funds.
This time around though, I should rather just shut up and hunt all over town for the perfect present for some of the most perfect people I know.


Ps. So that nobody gets me wrong, I love birthdays. And I love receiving birthday gifts. In fact I like to believe I’m not biased and accept presents all through the year.

Ready?

Shut the door of the frailing yellow taxi.
Take out the silver cigarette case and light one.
Check myself and the nose and its pin on the shiny new Chinese-y hand mirror.
Reach the destination.
Take out the shiny, new little purse, shaped like a shoe, with a watch dangling by the side, fish out some change and pay for the ride.
Put my foot out and the not.pink.not.red.somewhere.in.between.but.totally.matching.my.dress pointy shoes catch the first few drops of rain.

crash and then, burn

While walking down the street, on my way back home, I crashed into Him.
Crashed, yes.
Because,
a.) I was night dreaming, as usual, about HIm
b.) Listening to the pod
c.) Sms-ing a friend

All of this simultaneously. The next time The Boss mentions the word ‘Multi-tasking’, or the lack of it, he shall get slapped.
So anyways, I crashed and came back to planet earth. Looked upto Him (yes, yes, I’m rather short, so anyone over 5ft 2 inches, and I’ll be looking upto you), and smiled.
A smile for the pleasant surprise. For the accidental crashing.
We talked. Standing right there, in the middle of the road.
Exchanged notes on the lives.
About my wedding to-be.
About his partner.
About being broke and work and bosses.
And then promised to meet up over the weekend and get drunk, like we usually do.
And then parted ways.
Like we always do.

“I think you should take control of your life.”
“That’s precisely what I’ve been doing for the last 5 years.”
“No, I mean, you should make intelligent decisions and do things that are good for you. And not be so emotional and stuck-up.”
“Oh. You mean you should take total control of my life. And I should do what you say and keep you happy.”


Conversations between the Mother and I.
What would it take for her to just let me be?

Oops

Why is it that when life is at its bitchiest, sickliest, ugliest best, all the ‘mistakes’ and the ‘what was I thinking’ from the past get to know about it and attempt to chat up, leave messages on orkut, or worse, call.
Why?