About Love and its Legalities

I’m so over-the-top happy that, the Delhi High Court decriminalized homosexuality by reading down section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. The Delhi Gay and Lesbian Parade went very well and had a great turnout, I’m happy about that, but also sad that I coudn’t be there. For great pictures of the same, head over here. There was this crazy news reporter there going around questioning all of them and asking extremely annoying questions like, Is he your boyfriend? Do you guys kiss? Do you think this disrupts Indian Culture? And provoking physical expressions between them, so that he can take pictures and then sell them, or who knows run it on India TV for a good one week. I get so annoyed when people say this is abnormal, or can be treated. For one, Heterosexuality is not normal, it’s just common. Hence, forms NO benchmark for normality. Two, it’s unfair; Love and Marriage is human right not a Heterosexual Right. And please about the Indian Culture, sometimes I think India is a country of tolerance and diversity of landscapes, colour, languages, gods and festivals, everything but people.

The Backseat

I never do book reviews, merely because I never read book reviews. I hate it when people segment books by genre. Or typecast books by sad, mad, bad or ugly. For that matter, I don’t like flashy covers either. They make me want to keep the book down and switch it. I like stories not described before, or a book without it’s back page filled by words “thrilling”, “enticing”, “extra-ordinaire”,”masterpiece” et cetera, for really do they really think my choice is in-sync with the columnist of The Suntimes? I like books with aged yellow pages and that lost smell of handmade papers. So lovely.

Anyhoodle, this isn’t about me this is about Aditya and his book. The Backseat. It’s the perfect book for the Mumbai Monsoon. You know those books which keep you engrossed on those rainy days ... curled up in a blanket. Nikita’s story is, well, really for her to tell. But as for Aditya, you can tell by reading it’s a film-maker writing the story. There are ups and downs and quick recoveries, it’s not those typical books (read: all books) when the tragedy goes so excruciatingly slow you almost suffocate in the pain, and if you’re like me, skillfully skip pages. This can be cast into a movie, or made a sequel of (off the point: Aditya, you did think of a sequel right?) (devilish smile).

What I loved about this book is Aditya’s way of storytelling. His little stories, which seem disjointed, come together in the end, tactfully. Moreover, his writing has a visual sense to it which I have rarely come across. It’s been sometime since I’ve read the book and I can still so vividly remember the portrayal of the little girl, the Ganpati Visarjan and her father at the beach. Although, to me it seemed at the end, there were a few strings un-sewn and some emotions undealt with, but then again, he shows what he wants to show, it’s his story and it’s only fair that he leaves us asking for more.

It’s a simple read and a no-frills book. Anyone who likes chick-lit, inter-cultural portrayal, Mumbai, drama, storytelling, storyreading, bonding, hope and Aditya would love it. I enjoyed it. Give it a shot!

PS: Thank you for the nice note on the book, Aditya. And Manish, Thankyou for bringing it to me.

Downright Cribbing

I used to be very honest on my blog. I don’t know what happened. I was fun and fearless, I wasn’t fair to all, I agree, but that's the thing. I didn’t care. I just, did not apologize for being myself. And that's why I loved writing here. But since a while, I've lost it.

I never knew what is it that I didn’t want to write here. And then, suddenly, in a flash, it occurred to me. Ofcourse at the time when I have a thousand and seventy nine things to do.

I'm scared.

It's not like He doesn’t like my writing, or minds my language or drinking habits, or my sick sarcasm, oh and I'm always wondering how he doesn’t take offense on my really horribly-shamefully-obscene sense of humour. It's just, I'm worried that what if I write something which would hurt him. What if some of my views are too out there for him and he thinks I'm not the right person. But most of all, I guess I fear arguments. I hjust cannot cannot cannot argue. Cause even long after it's over, I'm just unable to get past it and let it go. Just that I don’t want anything to go wrong. But this has been bothering me so much so that I just can’t write anything at all. Which is like whacking the life out of me. I feel less in control, more sleepless than normal, more restless, et cetera, you get the drift.

And we all know, from past readings, I'm not someone for politically correct and elegance personified, good natured, good family value exhibition writing. I’m edgier than that.

Anyhow.

I realized, I can’t do like this. I need to be who I am or I’m claustrophobic with the cast I’m supposed to be in. So, truth is bank, umm.. bang.. umm back. Shit, is it showing where my mind’s been? You can’t really blame me either, boy-fun has gone clubbing with his mates (he’s in oz-land). And I’m here, drenched umm.. soaked umm.. what’s that word? Swamped, yeah swamped with work. You know I recently learned there’s a term for my illness. It’s called Closet-Tharki-ness. (for more such wisdom, head over to notgogol).

My uncle wants to start a company with me, I don’t know how far along I am, but I know I would be extremely proud of it. Even if I have to quit it in three months since I’ll be marrying; cause really it’s not about earning money, or being the CEO it’s just about attaining a sense of accomplishment, which I haven’t felt in a really long time. And have been feeling quite useless since quitting college, so I figure, thees eissh eggjhaktly whaat aaai kneeid.

The only trouble is, I have no time. I have this startup, which needs a lot of back and forth emailing and research. I have a writing project for an advertising company on my hand, which needs a lot of phone call attending, what can I say either my manager secretly has a crush on me, or she just likes calling and talking for long. Besides I have a very loving and understanding fiancé with an extremely rigid schedule as a doctor, very less freetime and a 5 and half hour time difference. Which means I can’t speak to him at nights, when it’s cooler for me, and his nights are like my peak work hour. So we both get tired, by just adjusting to each other’s schedules. It’s quite crazy. And I’m superbly glad that he understands and I’m superbly lucky to have him. But I really do miss talking to him as much. I guess we have all our lives, so we’ll make up then.

One of my good friends got married yesterday. Which means a gathering of a LOT of girls, close friends I mean. It’s especially fun when a few them just got married, get it? Get it? And it was damn good gossip session, excellently entertaining in-laws stories and over the top, exceptionally graphical racy stories. Which for sanity purposes and my own tiny degree of shyness won’t be shared here.

Boy-fun from Oz-land, if you’re reading this, you will have access to all these stories. Atleast, partially. Wink, wink. Also, just know that you’re missed, right now.

I also really really really miss my hostel buddies. I get so irritable when this feeling plays up on me :/ And my long emails to them go unreplied. You here, Sona!?

That’s it for now, I’ll close this and get to work now. YES! On a Friday evening, me being me. Still. I’m working on the brochure content for my company, which I wanted to personally take care of, and so, the work is just lying around idly in several word files on my desktop. I would’ve gotten done with it, had I not been aggressively obsessed with checking my emails. Or using unnecessary prepositions with every verb. Or random posting, like Happiness is. Or making arbit conversations with my mom regarding my blog, which by the way she claims to be proud of -- rather slyly -- in my opinion.

Warm hugs and good thoughts! Happy and lighter, me.

Just for the Record

~– that I’m alive - here’s what comprised the last few days or however long it’s been~

1. Gym-nast(y)umm is on a hold (for obvious and valid reasons) ( like lethargy)

2. I haven’t been writing, cause I’m too busy bullshitting. I’m working with Dad now and to get cracking there, you know that you gotta bullshit your brains out.

3. Anyone from this day onwards ignoring and not replying marketing emails is my enemy. Come on people atleast send me a polite No.

4. All the HR stuff I learnt in College, like Employee Satisfaction, their goodwill, entertainment, break time, open door policies, transparency, blah and blahblah and blahblahblah. Yeah, about that, bull shit. Aisa nahi hota hain sir. Aap apne Boss se 5 minute late bhi aaoge, toh Ch****** aapke sar par khade hoke puchega ki bhai aisa kya kha rahe the ki itni der lag gayi. Satisfaction, my foot.

5. People who use hotmail or the free accounts that internet service providers give are just plain sad.

6. I need some kickass karma by my side in the coming months, or I’m screwed.

7. Question: Why don’t we wear our engagement rings on the right hand finger? Afterall, right hand is more significant.

Answer: Because the damn pakode batter need to be fed in the oil by hands. Fingers prowling in the flour, spices and veggies. Had I been wearing my ring on my right hand, my precious platinum would have turned yellow, not gold, a gross yellow.

8. Chotu Caught Red Handed!
I always wanted to try my hand at making some great news bulletin sorts of a thing. And after the day ended, I caught my Bade Papa writing an email to my brother about this, and this was his subject line. Gawd, things AajTak does to us. So anyway, the boy working in my house was caught stealing from my Mom’s cupboard. I was out to work, so was Bhai and here was this guy, chilling in my parents bedroom and haath maro-ing so easily. But poor thing had his plans thrashed to ground when my Dad arrived. Yeap, and in his defense he told us he was looking for a book. Yes, right. Would you believe all drawers were open? And there he was sifting away all of my mom’s jewellery in his idle hours . Idiot.

I would’ve been so screwed had my Dad not gotten there. And the moron that he is, he woudnt admit it. I mean, his mom came the next day and started crying and all. She claims he was just looking. OK.

9. If only I had a mind reader cum thoughts recorder fitted in my thought process at exactly one hour before sleep hits me. This blog would’ve been a much much much richer blog. Like, I play out everything in my mind perfectly, word for word and then I fall asleep. And the next morning – sab chu mantar :/

10. To Insomnia,

Dude, enough already ok. Leave me alone. And while you’re at it, Vinod and Hussain can also do with some amount of your help in this respect.
- the sleep deprived but sleepy lot

11. After One Tree Hill, Coupling and most recently How I Met Your Mother, it’s Lipstick Jungle addiction phase.
PS: You guysssssssss.. What’s Gossip Girl like?

12. I detest, from the core my heart, DETEST movie world for paying too much negative oblivion to marriages. Really, how come all love stories come to a be all and end all apogee at the marriage. Seriously, think of this, all love stories culminate at the start of a marriage ceremony. That’s plain scary.

13. There are new blogrolled people, check them out, that’s my only soul vice at work, which keeps me connected to a freaky world of people who love talking about what they like and what they don’t and take it for granted people give a shit – duh, BLOGS.

14. Well, quite obviously people give a shit – people like me – who have basically - no life.

15. I attended the nicest concert last night, hindi old songs from the grayscaled era. Beautiful. I’m dying to get my hands on the CD they recorded last night.

16. I’m getting nightmares of having to quit chicken (my boy is a vegetarian, remember?) (and its not funny)I crave Shawarma. NOW. And some melted cheese on Fettucine Alfredo. Oh and a caeser salad on the side. And, now that you're at it, a peach sangria. That would be all. Thankyou. AND today is monday, and I'm fasting. I feel like that entrapped body in 'The Butterfly and the Diving Bell'. F.

17. I just realized my blog is two years old now :) Happy Birthday Bloggie! And thanks for being here. You have no clue how pissed I’ve been sometimes when talking with you, how happy other times and most of all how lost. Exactly like this time around. But truly, by being here you should know how much trouble you save the world from. Or I would’ve taken it out on people. So thanksie, love. Mwaah!

18. I can only be good when I feel like it.

19. I am completely inhumanly incapable of expressing it when I’m annoyed. Resulting which, I don’t say anything and it lurks in my mind restlessly for days altogether, so I’ve taken a mid year resolution to really tell what I’m feeling and to really tell this is not funny. Or that no I don’t think I’m cool with sick sexual connotation jokes. Which, by the way, only confirms that you lack a real sense of humour.

20. The God’s of the writing world, please give me a beautiful self starting solar powered memory retention system so that the next time I’m bit with the writing my blog bug, I atleast take up from the cache some partially significant thoughts and stories which cross my mind when I have no access to pencils, sheets or my cell phones draft messages.

Glory y’all! Ta.


PS. Oh and about the image, I completely forgot, I want that starry jewelery clip she's wearing. Anyone who finds it anywhere, get in touch with me. Quick. The only person who I've seen wearing it in India is Sapna Bhavnani, so if any of you go to Mad-o-wat, consider stealing. Thanks in advance.

Contagious

It’s a mental phenomenon, when you buy a santro and are driving it home, so you start spotting santro(s) everywhere. And so, now I think that everyone is getting married. It’s the trend of the season, or so I think .

My shopping flashes are on a high. I look at Femina and Hi Blitz’s women clothes with discomforting details. I’m checking out gold jewelery. I’m more observant with cutlery, bowls, quilts and their prices. And I’m increasingly cribby. Infact, I’m this short of being the wife. Precisely few months :)

I’ve always bragged about how I’m not a diamond person and made a mockery of my Bhabhi(s) on their ston-o-philia. BUTTT that was before and this is now. Now I want a solitaire. Actually I know exactly what I want. I want a round diamond, in a Tiffany setting/Solitaire setting in Platinum. The fiancé is not SO-well-aware about my fixation yet. I was hoping I could just use that webpage feature, email page to a friend. And make it sound casual, like take a look! Or, I don’t know, it’ll be good for you if you take a look. Or maybe I can make it funny, like score some brownie points with this. What if he thinks I’m making a mockery of the expense, the last one is not a great idea. Maybe I can just write, you must take a look and add a smiley. I love smileys, they just lighten up everything.

Also, I’ve been cooking. That explains why my brother hasn’t been eating :/ No, but seriously I’m not that bad. Little brothers are idiots, they know nothing about life, even after they are your age. It happens sometimes that you cant tell Kasturi Methi amongst a million Indian spices, so shit happens you know. And sometimes you just forget that you put salt in to boil the rajma and there’s not more salt needed in tadka.

My gym gusto is back with a vengeance. I want thighs like Kareena’s (dude, newie kareena). I hate how people say skinny people don’t look great in sarees and I especially hated it when my elder sister said skinny people look plain weird in heavy bridal clothes. So now, I want the butt too. So move back sister, I’m marching up your rear with my lunges, squats and my kickbacks. I also have a killer playlist, to pick my spirits from those painful shins and calfs, I’m Good at Being Bad – TLC, Superchor – Oye Lucky!.. you get the drift.

Have I told you my boy is a doctor? Well, yes. And his entire family. Like, not even funny dude, mommy, papa, sister, brother everyone. So when I met the family I was looking forward to carrying my fabulous impression far and wide and how I made my elaborate mental plans that I’ll impress them crazy talking of women’s liberation or world war II or corporate branding or To kill a mocking bird or share prices or the problems with vista...Umm, and the one sole topic which came up during my short tenure of impression opportunity with the women, was conditions for heart attack. Some talk involving enzymes, and I just stared blindly, obviously with my mouth shut, tight. Strike One. Why god, why? Of all the things in the world happening, enzymes? Just one field where I have literally no say in, you had to bring it on. Now, this doesn’t mean I can talk about every other thing. Nope. Although, I can bullshit about any other thing in the world. No, wait, rephrase, I can bullshit about anything in the world. How else do you think I passed my exams and reached Post Grads? But how do I bullshit enzymes in front of 6 doctors.

Anyway, just when I was getting cozy with mum-in-law, sister in law and aptly gharelu with cooking shooking, one of my relatives from in-laws side read Femina. And there it came, nayi chachi toh model hain. Satyanaas. (I also did slap my forehead with my outstretched palm). Strike two.

I-want list is crossing the sky limits for now. But what is probably keeping my feet on the ground is some job work, which reminds me that I started out to work and here, I ended up looking up some coffee tables, some contemporary lamps and the ring of my dreams. So now, ET go home.

For the love of God, God…

…we need some H2O here. Like really, it’s not even funny anymore. Ever since I have moved to Indore, I haven’t showered. I mean, we have that balti and mug and all, but flowing water with bubbles and pressure remains a distant dream. So does using conditioners. And bleep bleep, after bleep after bleep, has happened to my swimming pool plan. Due to acute shortage of Water, our club people, which FYI is supposed to be the nicest club of the city has closed all the showers but two in each Mens and Womens locker rooms and the two so called active showers have had some more than passive turnout with water pressure, so much so, that there is a queue to it. It’s not a fun scene there, I especially loathe the flabby auntyjis chit chatter of Bridge while they shrug their shoulders and flip their receding hair in black skirty swimsuits in the shower queues.Thanks, but no thanks. I utilize less clothes, I utilize less utensils and get frustrated all day thinking of how much water we used to have in New Bombay! Oh also, there is no warm water. You’re smart, you know why.

I don’t freakin give a shit anymore if its Taai, Taaya, Mamu, Chote Bhaiya, Chacha Sasur or whoever jagat bhaiya wants to run my city. But I want the damn water for my hair oil days.

Meri Ma

When I meet new people, which is a lot, I love meeting people. In my opinion they’re the only original non-spoilt-by-brands-and-advertisements and non-plagiarized source of ideas left in our Ctrl-C Ctrl-V world-o-rama.

Topic deviation, shit, ADD, now back. So when I meet new people, I was saying, I always ask about their families. Their parents, siblings, the way they’re bought up, home culture and the like. It interests me a lot. And I always end up feeling a little lost. On – what is –really- the right way to bring up children? The way my parents bought me up? Or the way everyone else is? I’m aware this is a massive generalization, but that is exactly what I intend.

My parents had very few rules, and the ones they did enforce had nothing to do with discipline. The one rule I’ve known and followed all my life, till today, is that we eat together. No matter what. You didn’t have to agree with anyone, if you don’t really accept the idea in your heart. Even if it’s the-dad or the-mom. You’re open to argue, at all levels, at all times. Every advice is well, just an advice. No one expects you to fully follow it. I was told “you shouldn’t be out so late”, as opposed to, “you cannot be out so late”. And I had the right to not follow it.

My mom always let me make my own mistakes. And they let me pay for it. I cant even fathom how hard that must have been. To know in your heart that your little daughter is being such a fool but not lose her by saying it to her face, and let her fall in front of your eyes, sit down-spirited, with a broken heart. And again, still not show a face of I-told-you-so. When I look back today, I know, there could not have been a better way.

No topic in my parents’ house is off limits. Really, I have spoken of condoms on my dinner table. And I can swear in my parents’ presence. Yes, in Hindi too. I must also add here, that if any of you think I’m from a super rich bollywood family, you got it all wrong. I come from a typical middle class family, my mom’s a housewife, she comes from a small town in Maharashtra and my Dad’s an engineer, and my little brother is well, annoying and goofy, to say the least. So what really stood them apart from all the others trying to be friends parents is that they as individuals were the most receptive to change. Changes around them , in ways of the world and in their children.

I had my first beer with my Dad, and the next 30 following it too, before I started going out with my friends. It’s not that they encouraged Alcohol. It’s just that they respected and treated us as adults, when we needed to be. Respected my choices. I think it was that freedom given to me, which makes me feel responsible as an adult till today.

This post is not about how lucky I am to save my money for alcohol and just drink from my home’s refrigerator, or how I can make dirty jokes on dinner table and my parents don’t even blink. It’s more about how I’m NOT two different people when I’m home and otherwise. It’s about how amazing I feel to be accepted just the way I am, just the way I’ve chosen to be and make of myself. There is an infinite amount of reassurance you get when you’re accepted lovingly by the people who know your shortcomings the most.

I plan to get married soon, and I want to have kids one day. I just hope that when my kids grow up they look back and feel the same about their parents as I do for my Mom and Dad.

_________________________________________________________________________________
ON A VERY-VERY DIFFERENT NOTE
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I’m no hurry to have kids yet. Shaadi tak theek hain yaar, bachche jyaada ho jayegi mazaak mazaak main. Aur ye bhavna main khaasi tarah se vyakt bhi kar chuki hun. Ab haal hi ki baat le lijiye.

Meri Ma ne Naani ban ne ki mannat maangi hain, mujhe kal hi pata chala. Mera vichaar ye tha is par ki ‘Maa, Naani ban ne ke liye shaadi ki kya aavashyakta hain, who toh aap yun bhi ban sakti ho’ :P

Is par, ek atyant hi Punjabi tone main ‘badtameez’ kehke Maa ne phone kaat diya. Hehe.. Maze hi aa gaye.

Ab itna senti diya hain, toh nahi ruk paungi, sun hi lo.

“..Ye Zindagi Hain Mom Ki,
Tu Mom Pe Lutaaye Ja.. “

Aap sabhi ka din sukhad ho. Vote karna na bhuliyega.
Jai Raam Ji Ki.