Thank God for Change

So I have a weakness for ice-creams. The fellow has almost gotten used to my cravings at all hours of the day and night and the road to the ice-cream parlor can now be travelled blindfolded.

Today wasn’t any different and just as I sat to finish some long overdue work I started seeing images of spirals of vanilla ice-cream dipped in hot chocolate sauce. So I called out to the Fellow in my most innocent and damsel in distress voice (which didn’t fool him a bit and just made him a teeny bit more wary if possible).

Anywho, after a little coercion and convincing the fellow that I absolutely needed to have that ice-cream, we set out happily. A little less than half way to heaven (please excuse my tendency to lean towards the dramatic) the Fellow realizes that in all our (read: my) excitement to get to the ice-cream, we’d (read: the Fellow) not carried any moolah with us.

Being the good girl I am (really) and the fact that I’m not using public transport here (which would account for a lot of loose change floating around my jeans when I was in Bombay), I didn’t have a single rupee on me. The Fellow, on the other hand manfully checked all his pockets and turned up some 10 rupees. Fifteen if you count a 5 rupee coin he had once kept in a compartment in the door. And 30 when we counted all the change we’d dumped at various times in the car.

So there we were. Headed towards the city at 10.30 in the night, with 30 rupees in our hand (quite literally), and a desire for ice-cream in our hearts. Like the Fellow said, thank God for the change. 

Of Curtains, Crockery and Cupboards

A week back: 

As a kid i never played 'ghar ghar' with friends or my sister. In fact the few times my mum tried getting us miniature kitchen sets, i bent all those tiny plates and spoons and buried the pressure cooker in the garden.

And now i'm all set to play house in real life. You can smell my fear and see the panic in my eyes from a mile.

For the last fortnight the Fellow and i have been making rounds of showrooms and shops looking at everything from refrigerators, microwaves and washing machines to table cloths, bedsheets and towels. Needless to say the decision making centers in my brain are close to being fried. I'm seeing curtains and crockery in my dreams. The salespeople have begun greeting us like long lost friends (when they arent rolling their eyes at the weird couple who go shopping everyday)!

Each morning we start the day (well at least i do) by making a list of everything that still needs to be bought. But the only result of this is that apparently no matter how much you buy, the lists never end and that i always misplace my lists. 

And then there is a matter of space. Where will i put everything? Are there enough cupboards and shelves? Are they big enough? The thought haunts my every waking moment (when i'm not paralysed by the very idea of growing up and being responsible. Shudder). For the first time i appreciated the enormity of the task my mother has been achieving for so many years in a city where even dogs wag their tails vertically for lack of space. So for now (and for the Fellow's peace of mind) i'm going to give into the conflicting neurosis in me and continue buying stuff whilst panicking (internally only) about where i'm going to keep it all. 

Today:

The Fellow and i now have our own house with a functioning kitchen and everything. We were just ready to heave a sigh of relief, when, without any warning, it was time to hire houselhold help, something i assumed mothers do and surely not my cup of tea. Recollecting my first interview with prospective maids gives me shudders (dont know which was worse - the fact that i had barely woken up in the morning and was faced with such a task or that these ladies were addressing me as 'baby'!!). Anywho, the maids have been hired, an extortionist gardner sent his way, and arrangements with the vegetable vendor made. There are curtains on the windows and photographs on the walls. The kitchen is emanating delicious smells and the refrigerator is humming away reassuringly. Television is as annoying as it was and the broadband connection as good. A game of Scrabble is on and Calvin and Hobbes await their turn to entertain. 

All's good in my little world.

No Bruises Yet

It’s been a month and a few days. The Fellow and I are still alive with all our limbs intact. The gloves have come off quite a few times but there are no bruises and broken bones (yet).

Each day brings a new surprise (usually some really ugly t-shirt from his wardrobe) and another addition to the ‘things of the Fellow to get rid off in a nice and diplomatic manner so that he believes it was his idea to start with’ and/or the emergence of another wire/gaming device/computer thingy from another over stuffed trunk/bag/cupboard to join the million and one other wires laid out in beautiful intertwined swirls and spirals all over the floor. And then there is usually the nice redeeming thing of the day the Fellow does which makes up for having to live with a boy, which ranges from folding the clothes and putting them away (without being told even once) to enduring vegetarian dinners with my family day after day with a smile on his face.

On another front, instead of breaking his gaming habit I’ve seemed to develop a rather unfortunate one myself. The Fellow can now be found grumbling about how he has to fight me for the PSP, an eventuality he never even considered when planning to enter the marital state.  

Like I said, the gloves have come off. 

Resolutions and Reflections

So yet another year passes by. Another complete orbit around the sun done. Another opportunity to make top ten lists for everything from saas-bahu shows to terror attacks. Another reason to party. And of course the best chance to resume blogging after a break.

Much has happened to people I know and to me this last year. Luckily most of it doesn’t interest even me so I’m going to spare (the few) readers the trouble of gaining painful insight into my terribly screwed up world.

But just as failed resolutions are to new years, so are summing ups and deep reflections.

My 2008 can be summed up (I’ll probably reflect on it later like when on my death-bed) as the year of taking vacations, taking decisions, and taking on the entire family. Oh and also the year of marriage, change and growing up (the former willingly, and the latter reluctantly).  

On the entertainment front 2008 was the year of bad movies, even worse reality TV (read: Splitsvilla) and Himesh Reshammiya. And wait, wasn’t Harman Baweja a 2008 offering? Hmm. Well, for every Harman we had an Imran Khan and a ‘kabhi kabhi aditi’ so the karmic balance is not shaken up too much.

Politically 2008 will always be remembered as the year of Obama and the Mumbai attacks, with Obama probably making more headlines than terrorists and bombs.

Economically 2008 was terrible. Global recession didn’t make for a very happy diwali, Christmas and even perhaps the new year.

For Gyan Space 2008 was the stuff of many posts and an increase in the number of readers from 2 to at least 4 (or 5) :P  

So basically the last year was as unique and as much the same as the years tend to be. There was the full quota of political, financial, personal and global drama. There was the requisite period of calm and happiness and the fixed amount of tears and grief. There was the usual darkness and then light, evil and good, wolves and red riding hoods.

And to end on a spectacularly (and even more ) corny note (and plagiarise from my granny), all shall be fine in 2009!