Red's in trouble.

He's completed 41,000 kilometers in the four years of his existence. Time enough to take a break and pay a visit to the garage. What i didn't expect was for him to be in such bad shape.

When the service guy came home to take him and go, i gave Red a once-over after God knows how long. And he was in terrible condition! The a/c vent was missing its slide, the fuel gauge wasn't working, the clutch was sticking, the plate under the battery was coated in acid, springs were popping out of the seats... it broke my heart to see Red like that. Evidently, the driver we had hired was not doing a job that was worthy of even half his salary. In the evening, the service guy called to say that the fuel gauge wasn't working because rats had chewed on the wires connecting the fuel tank to the gauge. Imagine my horror.

I'm hoping that an overnight stay at the garage will do Red a world of good. I also think that it's time for me to harden up and start driving. I don't think i can put Red through any more trauma.

*Sniff*

Today, on Master Chef, there was this wine maker suffering from partial cerebral palsy who was also a contestant, but he had enough skill and enough determination to make it till this current round. He had made it through Adriano Zumbo's pastry challenge, and Matt Moran's basic skills challenges, so he must be, right?

But in today's challenge where they were supposed to make 3 desserts in 2 hours or something, he couldn't do it because he was slow. And he produced average stuff, and when he was asked to walk up to the judge's table to present his dish, he walked up without it. And he said he couldn't do it, he wouldn't serve that dish to his friends and family, so he couldn't serve it to the judges of Masterchef either. And he said that he just couldn't keep up with the time because of his palsy, and he volunteered to go straight into elimination round. I cried.

People like him make me feel so useless and unworthy of things.

The heart is heavy...

...but the guns must be stuck to.

I'm normal about all this. Way too normal. So normal that it's freaking me out. A little. It's like A said to me once back in college when T told me over the phone that i would find someone better: "Nabi, you're sure you're okay? I mean, you're not crying, you're not sad, you're...you're laughing about it! Please don't do something stupid, promise you won't commit suicide!"

So no, suicide is most definitely not on the cards. It's for people who cannot make it through the worst meltdown of their lives. I've had mini-meltdowns in the past, but not enough to warranty doing it. Except maybe once, when i was very, very, very close to it but it didn't...Okay the point is, my normalcy is worrying me a bit. Just a bit.

But on the flipside, worrying about being normal when you really shouldn't have been, knowing that you are who you are, is a good sign. Because it means you're grown up and all Mature and can take things in your stride and all that. Right?

Oh well. This isn't going to be the first time that my resilience will be surprising me.

In which i am woken up with a phone call asking for my photo to show to "potential" people.

Aaah, i'm bugged. "Do you have a photo to give to somebody?" is not what i want to start my day with. It's not what i want to start any day with. And yet, i did. No, i said, i don't have a photo and even if i do, i'm not giving it.

And she said, "Why? What happened now? I thought you wanted to get married?"

I do. I did. I don't know.

I can't remember whom i was discussing this with, but a few weeks ago, somebody asked me if this is how i had seen my life to be.

No. Far from it.

I had imagined that by 29, i would be a lush wife, happily married with a kid (maybe two, i don't know), a husband who would be totally in love with me and with whom i would be in love; i would have an easy job, preferably a freelance one that gave me the freedom to stay at home and do the things i love to do: cook, embroider, have people over, throw an occasional get-together, think of ways to fill my life with lots of interesting things to do and all that.

I still do a lot of things, but i have no idea where or when the plan changed. No idea why it's taken so long. (Actually, i do.) But i think my window of opportunity has closed, and i don't think i want to get married. There's palpable fear at the prospect. And here's why:

My friend's wedding - yep, the same one where the little git of a boy asked me why i wasn't married - had a closed group of people on the guest list. Mostly family, and a few friends. Maybe i was out of touch or maybe i haven't socialized in those circles for a while, but i had a glimpse of what i could be getting into - if i was going to get married - when an old lady commented on the clothes i was wearing, saying that the blouse was "too deep", and i was strutting around shamelessly showing my back. 7 inches is passable, and it wasn't like i was the only one wearing a blouse of the kind; the old lady's grand daughter was too. What made a big difference was that i had short hair and she didn't. So it just seemed like mine was a whole stretch of skin from my neck to my back.

And the short hair, oh my god the looks it elicited. Like i was too "forward", "modern", "loose" and what not.

It's disappointing actually, to think that this is the lot that i will be married into, should it happen. A lot who has double standards on almost everything, a different outlook for their own and a different one for strangers, who believe that no matter who you are or what you do behind closed doors, you need to show yourself as the perfect example of everything to the world.

I don't do two-face. I can't. I am what i am in my room, as i am in a public gathering. And i refuse to get married till i find somebody who's the same way.

Aaaand that's the second trip i've cancelled this year.

Four days in rain-drenched, beach-soaked Goa. Gone, *poof*, just like that.

That's my second most-looked forward to trip this year that has gotten cancelled. The first one was the Manali-Spiti circuit that was planned for July.

Mom's getting her cataract surgery done, and the time that i was supposed to go to Goa is the time she wants it to happen. No other free time.

I guess i'd better start resigning myself to the fact that this is how it's going to be from now on. My travelling life will be almost non-existent, starting today. I guess it was bound to happen, with priorities shifting a little bit.

And it had to happen now. Like i don't have enough to deal with already.

Resurrection of the "Kill Me"s.

(Blockbuster movie trailer-type voice over)
Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that i bring back the once-popular section of this blog; the digestion-aiding, boring conversations-killing, IQ-testing, marvel of all marvels, kings of all bad punnery, the one and only (drum rolls) Kill Me!

After almost two years of hibernation, the 'Kill Me's come out of the cave and embrace the light of their true calling! And they're here with the first series of many, on Hollywood actors!

Ennjooooy!


Which Hollywood actor's father worked in coal mines?
Brad Pit.

Which Hollywood actor's father was into fishing big time?
Jason Baitman.

Which Hollywood actor's father was a Sindhi private investigator?
George Clue ni.

Which Hollywood actor's father was a car mechanic?
Richard Gear.

Which Hollywood actress's father was a dwarf?
Nicole Kid-man.

Which Hollywood actor's father was a truck driver?
Hugh Lorry.

Which Hollywood actor's father believed in corporal punishment?
Michael Cane.

Kids these days...

I've been busy with my friend's wedding these last couple of days. Yesterday was the Nikah (yes, a Muslim wedding after a very, very, very, very long time!), post which the bride and her family sat down to dinner at one table, the groom and the men at another, and i stood (sat, actually) guard over the purses and handbags of the bride's family near the stage.

This git of a boy, all of UKG-years old, first embarasses the hell out of me by screaming "Aunty! Aunty! Aunty!" at me, which i of course take in my stride with a bust-shaking laugh. Then he comes over, sits next to me while i scroll through my messages (no, no, i'm not obsessive like that; it was just because i wanted to re-read a couple of messages that were furiously exchanged between me and the love of my life while my bride friend shot daggers at me) and begins what turned out to be a most amusing conversation:

"Do you have games on your phone?"

"Yes i do."

"Can you put some?"

"Aww. My phone is out of charge, see?" (Showing him the sliver of green in the battery sign) "You can't play a game now."

"Show!" (Reaches for phone, checks, double checks and triple checks to make sure i'm not lying through my toothy grin.)

Momentary pause.

"You have kids?"

"No..."

"Why?"

"Because i'm not married." (Excuse me on this one, but it's just cultural mentality to assume there are no kids because there is no marriage.)

"Why?"

"Because i'm not!"

"Why?"

"Because i don't want to."

"Why?"

"Just."

"Why?"

"Just like that."

"Why? Get married now only, go."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because there is no Dulha."

A moment of silence, and then him pointing towards groom's table where all the men are sitting:

"But there are so many there!"

"No, none of them are nice."

Silence.

Five minutes later:

"Do you have kids?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because i'm not married?"

"Why?"

"Because i'm not finding a Dulha?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. Will you be my Dulha?"

"Yes!"

"Come, let's go get married right now."

"Okay!"

Sigh. If only grown men were this eager.

I need...

...interesting people in my life

...to start accepting the worst, so if there's any good that comes out of it, it's a bonus

...to get back to dancing and Spanish and doing more stuff with my time

...to get a grip on myself

...to stop focusing on what might have been and work towards what will be

...to leave it to God

...to travel

...to quit without worrying about where the money's going to come from

...a fitness regime that's going to make me love every moment of exercise

...the rest of this year to fly, really fly

I love you.

I used the gorillapod for the first time today, and the joy. Oh, the joy.

Now that i've inaugurated it, using it from here on should be easy. Hello park visits and brunches and BIAL and sunsets and insects and timepass and what-not!

You're like a weed...

The kind that needs to be ripped out of its roots, pulled apart and thrown far, far away so the plants can have a chance to be nourished and to grow.

You're like a Pomeranian. Constantly going on and on for no reason, whining and pesky and thoroughly irritating and so desperate for attention. Considered therapy much?

You're like a horsefly. Enough said.

You're like a shrink wrap. You cling on to everything just because you can. Ugh.

You're Wiley E. Coyote. No, strike that. You're worse than the most scheming, conniving, sweet-talking, shrewd villain in history, and Wiley is nothing compared to that.

I hate you. Like i haven't hated anybody in years.

*****!

Return of the schoolgirl crush?

I don't know how it happened, but another male from my past has resurfaced.

The story dates was way back to the fourth standard, about the same time that The Boy was crushing on me. G, the resurfaced male, and I were an "item" of sorts. We both knew we liked each other, we both hung out together a lot and were also the best of buddies. His best friend T, and my best friend then, who also happened to be The Boy's older sister, were also an item of sorts. So basically, it was four of us all the time.

Once fourth standard was done, the boys had to leave school. I did see G a couple of times after that, but i guess the bond was never quite the same.

Three days ago, he found me on Facebook and sent a friend request. He hasn't changed much, and i'm really, really happy for him that he got what he wanted out of life. Horse riding was his passion from ever since i can remember, and he is a jockey now. His best friend T, however, is quite a different story.

The last i knew of him, he was a scrawny, fair, rugged boy of 10. When he sent me a friend request a day after G did, my first reaction on seeing his picture was to laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh. He had grown muscles and had a superbly toned body, and was doing modelling and was also (drum rolls) an actor in the Kannada film industry.

Of course, when he mailed me saying how awesome it was that i had been found on FB, i told him that i wanted to laugh when i saw his picture! Yeah, i know, i can't hold these kind of things back.

Anyway, let's see where all this goes. It's a nice feeling to reconnect with people from my early developmental years; i'm just hoping it doesn't bode ill for any personal development that's left to do.

So, the photography assignment? I'm ditching it.

Yeah, i'm going to start afresh for the blog. Don't want to carry over stuff from the one that's happening already, partly because i'm lazy and partly because i want to get more experimentative with my shots.

I'm thinking of starting sometime next week, because i have a lot of time on my hands. And that's because i cancelled a big trip: B'lore-Delhi-Manali-Spiti-Delhi-B'lore. Heart is breaking, but it was a choice between need and want, and i chose to go with need.

The Bus Ride - a tragicomedy.

I just got back home from the airport after seeing a couple of friends off. And i want to scream because i'm so frustrated.

I took the BIAL bus. Waited, first of all, for half an hour inside the roomy eight-wheeler for the driver to decide that he had enough passengers. And then, had a cute boy get into the bus. And choose to sit opposite me.

We checked each other out covertly. I bought a ticket up to CBI Road, and i have no idea where he was headed.

Another middle-aged business traveller got into the bus and sat next to me. My mind half-switches off, while the other half of it focused on checking out cute boy in the reflection of the bus window. Yummy hands, nice bone structure and the smile. Oh, the smile.

The bus started, the radio played. Weird songs came on air and i hummed the ones i knew, out of habit. Then some crap play comes on and i'm dying because i didn't know what to do with myself. He was checking me out in the reflection from time to time, trying to catch my eye, and i was doing the same. At one point, our eyes meet momentarily and there was...something. His leg was inches away from mine and i could feel the 'i-think-i'm-interested-in-you' kinda heat between us. I knew he was dying to talk, but he said nothing.

Finally, the business traveller got off the bus. I knew my stop was nearing. I contemplated getting off at Majestic Bus Stand, and then discarded the idea because it was just silly. (I've figured out now that such silliness, if it doesn't harm anybody, must immediately be put into action.) I continued looking out of the window, and he continued keeping quiet.

Then, finally, he opened his mouth:
"Majestic last stop hai kya?", and i say, "Haan, shayad." And then he says, "Krishnagiri ke liye wahan se buses mil jayengi?", and i say, "Pata nahi." In my head, i'm thinking, really, is that the best you can do?

Seconds later, the driver yelled, "CBI Road!"

F*** my life.

I got up. I bumped his leg, and mumbled a sorry. I walked to the front of the bus, asked the conductor if he would stop a little further away, trying to buy time. The conductor replied, "No no, get down here, it's easier for you."

And i got down.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! DammitdammitdammitdammitdammitDAMMIT!

Now, i can't get the incident out of my head. I can't, because this spark was the very rare kind, as rare as a real message about a lottery win. I'm wishing he had opened his mouth earlier, or that i'd stayed for a couple of stops more.

It's true you know, that modern-day saying: Jab naseeb ho gandu, to kya karega pandu?

It's also true, what A says: there's just something about me and this universal phenomenon called "Timing". It's always wrong for me.

The 30-day photography assignment.

So, i found the 30-day photography challenge on Pinterest, and thought it was a great idea. Before i knew it, dear A had repinned it, put a plan together for its execution, gathered a bunch of friends and made it a full-blown fun exercise to follow.


Yesterday was Day 1, and the challenge was to take a self portrait.

Predictably, i didn't remember about it till the stroke of midnight. So, i whipped out my camera and quickly shot a few.


First, i thought i'd post this:





But then, since everybody was going to put up nice pictures, i decided to go mad. So i put up this:

It's a psycho start, but i can't wait to see what comes up over the next month. I'll be posting pictures here parallelly. Things are going to get madder, trust me.

Passing the time with dragonflies and butterflies and fishies.

I made these over the last couple of days. Yeah, i know i know, i got talent. :)

Knowing.

I know how to make anger go away.

How to live with hatred till it vaporises.

I know how to be strong.

I know how to make people happy. How to make them laugh.

I know to deal with pain. Boredom. Uselessness.

I know to be wise and unconditional and righteous and evil.

I know how to drive restlessness away.

I just don't know what to do with Sadness. She gets me every time.

Just when you're done making bucketloads of lemonade, life sends a gift basket full of lemons. And the tag reads "With love".

It's true. Everything seemed to be going just fine (by cosmic standards) when suddenly, like pieces of Dominoes, things started to fall apart.

First, it was the Doomsday Decision followed by lots and lots and lots of tears. I really didn't think i had it in me to cry like i did. And, surprisingly, i don't think i'm done crying. Then it was hours of confoundedness and terrible confusion and heartache (in the middle of which i get a missed call from what seemed to be an Australian number), followed by a brave move.

I have the permission, the blessings of my parents, the freedom to live on my own, play house and go berserk setting the place up. The dream of a lifetime. But at what price? It meant breaking away from the familiar, leaving behind a life i'd known for 28 years and had built with love, pain and numerous indulgences. It meant venturing into the unknown. Well, almost, not entirely. It meant that i would have to be stronger, calmer, more focused, more level-headed, more indifferent, hatred-free and consciously happy. I must be raving mad to contemplate the move.

But then, you have to understand that i'm a sucker for new experiences. I NEED to try everything once. Okay, almost everything. And i've wished to stay on my own for the longest time. So when i think of moving, i'm only full of anticipation and absolute excitement. No dread. No fear. No second thoughts.

Just as i zero in on what it is i want to do, the basket of lemons arrives.

Two nights ago, while i was staying at a friend's place, my mother had an attack of the sweaties. Profuse perspiration, weakness, numb hands and disorientation. Dad, who needs taking care of, was taking care of her instead. 3 in the morning, he was using a hair dryer to warm her hands. Her sugar had dropped rock bottom. And i only got to know this the next evening. Afraid, and as a consequence, angry, i confronted my dad and asked him why he didn't call. How can we call you at 3 in the morning?, he asked. So what? He just shook his head in a "no" and walked away. I was the same city, just 45 minutes away. And they still hadn't called.

It's scary, really. And it's making me think harder about whether i want to go. Whether i HAVE to go. It's not going to be as easy as just packing my bags and heading out. It's not going to be a week-long holiday.

Harakiri, in the name of poetic license.

Beautiful butterfly against blue, blue sky, hums soulfully,
flapping hurriedly, towards the sunflower fields on the... *SPLAT*
* * *

Marginalized, merchandised, innocent no more
Hello, Winnie the Pooh
* * *

Adam and Eve tore off their leaves and started making out a wee
Along came a Snake, and then there was an orgy
* * *

"Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?"
"NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS! I WANT A DIVORCE!"
* * *

Newton sat under a tree, thinking all about gravity
When an apple fell, blew him a death knell,
And instead of one law, there were three
* * *

Sun Tzu wrote The Art of War,
But in his lifetime its fame didn't reach far
It was only after the poor sod was dead
That the book became big with management schools, instead

* * *

And then some more, courtesy A:

Mary had a little lamb,
Which she had for lunch

* * *

"Baa Baa Black Sheep,
Have you any wool?"
"No!"

* * *

Little Miss Muffet,
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider:
"That's my place Bitch! Get up!"

* * *

Well, something good seems to have come of you.

After several years of poetic dormancy, i have been inspired to write an epic. All thanks to you. Ironically, the alternative word for an epic is Lay. Funny funny.

I'm coming to get you, Hope. You'd better run, because when i find you, i'm going to choke your dainty, wide-eyed, innocent, goody-two-shoes throat with my bare, rage-ragged and deeply suffering hands. I'll send you back to your blessed box, where you belong.

Where is Pandora these days, anyway? I can think of specimens of mankind who can do with a little mischief right now, and she'd come in extremely handy.

YOU CAN WIN! (Aka "A quick and handy guide to dealing with the Ex-es in your life.")

#1 RESIST the urge to call them. Or message. No matter how close you were, are, or may be.

#2 STICK to safe topics when you meet. "Do i look fat?" is not one of them. Just keep it light and easy. "Remember the last time we made love and you farted?" does not fall in the category. The keyword here is safe.

#3 AVOID bringing up the past. For example, see example in point #2.

#4 STAY away. No physical proximity. At least not within running-and-jumping-into-arms-or-bed length.

#5 DELETE all trace of his existence from your life, unless you can keep it all locked away in a safe place (NASA's time capsule isn't a bad option) till the day you might want to be friends again. Or in the same room without being uncomfortable or uneasy. Once you are either, follow point #2.

Now dealing with yourself when you have to deal with your ex-es? That calls for a different post altogether.