W(he)el of Fortune
I dont know, what has brought me so far to come to a cyber cafe just to type a random post. My folks are back in Delhi, and I am still hanging around in Bangalore to give some lousy admission test. I somehow realize, with the increase of physical distance, I am growing closer to them. We (my folks) spend half an hour talking to me, knowing my day, if I have been a good child. If I didn’t trouble Thatha(Grandpa, in Tamil). My friends occasionally call me up, to find out general happenings, and I feel so good. Miles away from home, and still at home.
I just cleared like a major major cool college for my master’s. But that is just the written part. I need to clear the interview. And there are going to be students who are more competent than me. Who know more than me, with heavier portfolios. I am gonna be a mere rat in the race. And this time, the rat wants to speed up in the race. With the passion to outbeat everyone on the way. But is this passion enough?
I am so scared of failure. What if I don’t get through? If I don’t make it? I am anyways jobless, and not clearing the interview will be like a temperory academic fracture. One which would last for an year, till I get the chance again. I have never been afraid of trying, but by not believing in myself, I am trying ‘to fail’. Even if I would not, I am psychologically greasing myself to prepare for the worst. And this is melting away the fire, the passion.
The day someone called me up to tell me that I cleared that particular college, what a sense f jubiliation it was. It was an ‘orgasmic’ high. Literally. Thatha felt like I won ‘Wheel of Fortune’. It was indeed, like the WHEEL of FORTUNE. Luck is giving me the chance to roll the dice, and I need to take the chance. I hope the WHEEL of FORTUNE to the WELL of FORTUNE 
When you really want something, with a pure heart, and you achieve it, makes you feel so good about yourself. It is an ego massage. A chance to prove wrong the ones who thought of me as incapable. A chance to give myself more reasons to love me.
I have never wanted something SOO badly in the past three years. As the Wheel of Fortune has brought me so close to the doors of my destination, I hope it helps me hit BULL’s EYE!
I want to go back home soon, clear the interview and come back to blog about it! I am missing home. The place Where my aspirations lie. Where I thread my dreams. Where I weave my reality!
Boondoggling with Slop!
Today was an ultra-waste day in the chapter of my life. Where I spent the whole day doing NOTHING substantial. Squandering on barrenland. The newspaper didn’t come early in the morning. Went all around my locality in a cycle-rickshaw and spent 20 rupees to find a newspaper worth 2.50 rupees , and couldn’t find the one I wanted, The Hindu. Had to resort to the TOI. I get so bored reading the advertisements that I never get to reach till the edit page. TOI is a broadsheet tabloid! I sound like a pseudo-intellectual wanting to grasp all the knowledge of the world in the next two months.
**I have a very strange attitude, that whenever I am pissed off, I just rush to my Sify Internet Connection Wala and blow all my anger out on him for his stupid super-slow lousy connection whose wires cant beat the dust, wind and rain; and locomote erraticallyu. So as usual, I was feeling irritated in the afternoon, so took all my rage and threw it on that idiot. It relieves me soo much. Some shani-raashi (evil omen) on my poor net wala and cable wala’s destiny. They are always on the receving end of my wrath everytime they come to my place for their payment.
**I am pretty short. And I don’t know how to carry myself in heels. I have a pair of super sexy slender white heels lying in my shoe-rack that has never seen the light of the day. So I wore them and walked in them all around my house with Freedom Struggle notes in my hand, so that the next Saturday Evening get-together plan, I would look as tall as the boys! I tripped and fell and fractured one leg my my limping dining table.A Mayawati wanting to be Madonna.
**Anyways, coming to THE spoiler. My sister and me ended up singing together. Actually I was singing, and she was mocking on me! With hindilyrix.com on the comp screen and the songs blaring in the background with me pretending to be Ashlee Simpson of the Bollywood World. Husky voices echoing within the walls of my room. My sister surreptitiously recorded my voice and was making me witness the flashback. Boy Oh Boy! I sound like a C-grade version of Ila Arun. And I was trying to sing female versions of Himmesh Reshammiya tracks. I spent two hours downloading his music to see if I could compete him. This is what happens when studies bore you.
**That’s not it. Tired of our singing renditions, my mom called us to watch TV. Some IPL related programme on CNN-IBN. The host of the programme was Meha Bharadwaj. I am fascinated by her pout. When she speaks, I just love to notice her lips. They just standout. Since my braces are out, I decided to stand in front of the mirror and practice pouting! My sister said that she could rate me on a duckling-o-meter, cuz that’s how I look when I pout, like a DUCKLING!
In conversation with Retardo Man, I was telling him that I could make him my brother, from today on. Spat comes the reply, ‘If God wanted me to be a brother to you, then why didn’t he make me the son of your mother?!’
I am on a 12-week break from work. I wonder which organization gives so much of liberty to little kids. I just kept sleeping with my notes today(like every other day). I want some freedom from the ‘Freedom Struggle’. The readings of Homer Dixon are yelping for some attention. The Frontline issue wants to feel my fingerprints. But all those souls aint getting lucky. Off I go to complete my holiday mood sleep of 12 hours. Adios!
Update: Birthday was real FUN. I just LOVE the feeling of people tinking you at midnight, each wanting to be the first one to wish you. Had a close bunch of friends come over. My ex cooked for us. I looked horrid on my birthday. It seemed as if the other chics were the birthday girls in their strappy Lifestyle tops and bold FabIndia kurtas. I didn’t buy anything special for myself. All my savings were blown up in the La Marte shopping for grocery!
Played cards, my ex won consecutively in BLUFF. I wonder if he has been bullshitting me all this while. But Blah! It’s just a game. Atleast that’s how I consoled myself. We made lots of chicken, in inappropriate quantities. And because my parents don’t approve of chicken, I had to do 20-plate dishwashing before they entered home. That was a CRAZY time. Had to clean the kitchen thoroughly. Burnt 7 incense sticks to rid the smell. Never spent so much time in the kitchen ever before.
Apart from the usual routine gifts of flowers, chocolates, cards, I got some bizarre gifts like a beauty book on ‘How to keep Yourself Stylish!’. A book on beauty ‘secrets’, how to keep your skin glowing and maintain the fuzz filaments on your scalp! I am in desperate need of mane-care. Another friend of mine gifted me Olive Oil on my birthday! I wonder what the idea behind that was.
Being 20 has just got me some lectures. On how I am a BIG girl now. And I am supposed to act responsible. Learn how to cook or else I wouldn’t get a Tamil Brahmin Iyer husband for myself who would not divorce me within a year of marriage. On how some things are not good no matter how cool they look! Lectures, lectures, lectures. But, I guess they are fun in a way.
Plug-In: I realized that my posts are random in nature. But that’s because ten different things run on my mind at the same time. And my short-term amnesia reminds me to throw all of them on Microsoft Word before I forget about it, and hence the randomness.
**Trumpets Roll**
Yea, I am stepping into the BIG WORLD of adults. I am no longer gonna be a teenager. I turn twenty tomorrow. I am so EXCITED about this entire idea of no longer being a teenager. And yea, I have a birthday bash planned for this day. Luckily, it’s a Saturday, and I plan to take an off from work, as I have already invited my buddies.
People I know are broadly categorized as-
People in my NETWORK: Includes all people I know through my work, random bump-ins, Meet in the metro, friends of friends of friends!
People in my social circle: It includes people who are hang-out buddies. People I go out for coffees, movies, mundane conversations.
Narrow-margin souls: This includes the entire jing-bang of people whom I treasure close to my heart. Friends I know will be there for me, atleast when I want them to be by my side.
On analyzing my entire year, I have 15 odd people in my ‘social circle’ category. Work doesn’t give you enough time to hang around too much with too many people. So, I started to call in and invite them for a house-party. It started with 15 and now the list has come down to 10! Out of these 10 people, I could die for 5 of them, if needed! People I think would be there, COME WHAT MAY!
Me and Avni were to throw the bash together, but she later backed out. I like birthdays when YOU are the cynosure. When all the focus, attention is just on YOU. So, I guess, it was a good thing. We decided that we shall host a summer fling party. Where people would be dressed in beachy clothes, girls with sunflowers on their ear, guys wearing rajnigandha garlands! With a concoction of MEditarrenean, Oriental and Italian cuisine. With La Bamba in the background! People holding blue curacao mocktails. (Mocktails cuz I don’t consume alcohol, so alcohol won’t come into my house either!)
But once she told me that she was backing out, all the responsibility was on my shoulder. I spoke to my ex and he was willing to cook for all of us. (Mummy, I need to learn how to cook!). I have bought all crazy things for my bedroom. Curtains, bedspreads, Lampshades, u name it and I must have bought it.
Yesterday was grocery shopping day. I was tired of working all day, checking out of work at 6, and then running around in local markets to fetch flowers, decorative showpieces for my house. My ex wasn’t willing to drive me down as he is busy losing weight in the evenings: D So, I persuaded Daddy darling to reserve an evening and drive me down the countryside and keep his fingers on his lips, while he did that!
And what I mistake that was. We went grocery shopping at La Marté and freaking shit! It was SOO expensive. I thought, dad was around and I picked up the best of the best and my basket was filled with foreign brands. Mayonaisse which costs 65 bucks otherwise, costed me a whopping 250 bucks. Curacao Syrup for freaking 425 bucks! An eeny-meeny bottle looked like a shot of tequila. But I readily picked it up thinking dad would foot the bill. After billing my items, I asked dad to bung the money out and he says, that he was the driver for the day, not the cash-bearer. Arghh, I got SOOO pissed! For picking up items and heavily getting rolled up for it! We went to the pastry shop, and I was so annoyed that I ordered the cake myself, and paid up for it and sat into the car while he was searching all around the place.
As we were driving back home, I asked him to drop me by the ATM and I could rope in some cash and shop the rest of my stuff. I strictly warned him that he better not call me before 9:30 cuz I wont be coming home till the time I don’t wrap up my shopping! Dad looking out on one side of the window, and me on the other side. We didn’t see each other and our driver was quietly driving us around. I hastily asked dad to drop me RIGHT THERE and as I opened the door of the car, BHAM! I hit a motorcyclist! And that guy toppled on the road with his bike over him. The doors of the car received a dent. I got down the car and started apologizing to that man.
And he was screaming on TOP of his voice. My dad walked down to intervene and very politely stated that if there is any expenditure to be incurred, he shall readily pay for it. That man was throwing a drama act. He was FINDING for scratches in his body so that he could squeeze some bucks out! A couple of young boys gathered around, who helped the biker get up as they saw my flooded eyes. (After thought, they might have just helped him out, to watch a sexy chic smile back at them! He he!)
Next, when dad asked him to check his bike. When the biker started his bike, it didn’t start. When others did it, the bike started! Poor luck! Dad also apologized, and then the biker and dad exchanged business cards at the accident spot! That was so funny.
And I heavily scurried out of the scene and rushed to the ATM to draw my money. Haven’t confronted dad since then!
I asked my parents to let me be home-alone with my friends. Hope dad doesn’t play party-pooper and spoil my wonderful plan!
Tomorrow will be the D-Day! I am really EXCITED! Would feed in more details after the part is ova!
Keep the trumpets ROLLING!
Tadan!
Happy Birthday To Me!
An Honest Testimony
This weekend was the alternate long weekend. As usual, went out, had fun! A trip to the bookfair, with my boss’s wife, Surajkund Mela with Dorky with an extensive photography session, and a lousy Sunday with movie watching and gearing myself for Monday morning blues. But this post is not about what I did.
My mum had just started working with a publishing house and edits books for them. She has never worked in an organization and it’s only lately, 4 months, to be precise, that she thought that now the time is ripe to leave her daughters to themselves and start to work. For all these years, mum religiously got up to make food, pack us to school, wait for us to come back, feed us with lunch, make us sleep, send us to tuitions, teach tuitions herself, then start cooking dinner and spend the night watching saas bahu serials!
It was a mundane routine that she followed. I went to the book fair and as I was rambling around, I serendipitously struck my mum’s publication house. On browsing through the books, I saw more than 10 books that had my mum’s name. As I turned around, I spotted her boss too. I was so delighted, that at last my mum is living her dreams. After fulfilling her duties as a caring mother, a diligent wife, she is on the road to find her womanhood. She has always made sure that her daughters are treated as if they were her sons.
In the dominant patriarchal set-up that we live in, girls are not considered a boon to the family, especially if you are the first grand-child. But my mum has just fought against everyone in the world, to give me the support and raise me up, without me having to face too many hurdles.
Same is the case with dad. I might have a million arguments with dad. I might fight with him, raise my voice, he raises his voice. Ego-clashes. I shut the door and start crying in my room. But I cannot think of another man taking his place. I can’t imagine any dad letting his daughter come back home from work at 1 in the night.
Such fathers are either care-free, or don’t worry about their daughter’s too much. But in my case, dad used to stay awake till the time I don’t enter home. He used to everyday note down the cab number I am coming in. he is not the over-possessive father, but the protective one.
Even now, he doesn’t ask me to give a penny out of my salary for the home expenses. Even now, he has never interfered in what I should do, or where I should work. Even now, he comes to pick me up from my workstation everyday or else I would have to slog on public transport in the chilly winter evenings.
I might have a fight with him every Sunday. Happens, when we see too much of each other. But I love him.
My sister, she is a darling. If I had to choose one person in the world for whom I would self-lessly give my life for, it has GOT to be my sister. Younger by 5 years, I tell her everything that a 15 year old can probably comprehend. She has covered up for me, many times. There have been times, when she has given her pocket money savings so that ‘I’ could buy chocopie and gobble it all by myself. We rarely fight, but when we do fight, we just don’t speak to each other for many days.
I am very bad at expressing my feelings for my family. I just can’t. I don’t know why. If it were a friend, it is so simple. I could either make a card, or give them flowers or just text them, saying that they mean a lot to me. But when it comes to family, I just suck. I just can’t can’t can’t, tell them how much they mean to me. Maybe that’s why I am writing about it. A lot of ego comes in. I just cant sorry. I just can’t say I Love You.
But this time, as I was surfing through my mum’s books, I just picked up my phone and called up my mum. She picked up and I stated how proud I was about having a mum like her. That I love her. That I feel proud to be her daughter. I started to cry. I hung up the fone.
Sunday Sickness!
As much as I love Sundays, I hate Sundays. This is the most awaited time of the week. Away from a boring cubicle, away from deadline screeches, away from the mundane life at work. Sundays is generally supposed to be a chill-out day with no worries.
Sunday reminds of getting up in the afternoon, complete the basic morning routine, basking in the sun in the frosty winter temperature of two degrees, speak to your relatives, take the whole bloody day to read every word of the newspaper, sit with mom dad, chat about the week. Then formulate the POA( Plan of Action) for the day. Decide where to hang out. Get Dilbara( my parents adopted third daughter;)) home, have her dressed up, and persuade the three-year old to convince my parents to take us out to any new hang-out zone in the city.
But eventually turns out to be a day, when mom ends up scolding me for not cleaning my room. I love my room when it is in a perpetual mess. With the single-bed that crowns my room, the left corner of the bed stacks the newspapers that are strewn apart after reading. You can find the whole week’s newspapers on the left side corner if it is a Sunday. The right corner of my bed houses the clothes I have adorned me all through the week. Under my bed, lie the shoes that have been worn the entire week!
Every Sunday, the newspapers get thrown into the balcony, and my clothes get thrown into the washing machine. And the semi-automatic bugger is a pain-in-the-ass, specially when the water is freezing cold, and washing clothes is the last thing you would wanna do on a holy-Sunday.
Every Sunday, HBO or Star Movies runs a nice movie, but my mom’s desirable wishes of watching a Tamil movie over-rides my desires. I don’t fucking understand coherent sentences in Tamil. My knowledge of my ‘mother-tongue’ is basic woodworking tools. Just canonic knowledge. Enough to talk to the grocery vendors and auto rickshaw walas. Fuming with rage, I enter my room, and start to watch a movie on my desktop.
And as soon, as I station myself to watch a mush movie, my dad barges into the room, to check his stock share prices. And my sister queues up next to check some stupid study material. And I go sulking in the corner. Its amazinghow everyone wants the same thing when I want it. And me and dad/mom would end up having a verbal encounter when we see each other for a VERY long time. Even if it is just momentary.
And beat this, it happens on every Sunday that I am at home.
Next Sunday on, I will not stay at home man. Away from vex, away from hen-pecking, away from the jade. Aah! I am just like any other teenager who just doesnt like to stay at home.
