Things That Shouldn't Be Allowed...

No. 15

People ringing the doorbell at the unearthly hour of 8 am. 

It's just insensitive i tell you. And ignoring the buzzer is of no use. Anyone with the audacity to come and disturb you at 8 am is going to be persistent as hell. Just as you manage to shut the alarm up and go back to a nice long snooze, the bell rings. Hoping against hope you burrow deeper into the blankets to avoid listening to the dreaded sound. But after ten minutes of pretending no one's at home, you drag your comatose self out of bed and to the front door (cursing and bumping into things all the way) just to get the buzzing sound out of your head. 

Why disturbed early morning snoozes?

Obviously i was woken up rudely this morning. It was all i could do to stand upright when answering the door bell. Maybe it's time to post visitation timings on the front door.  

The Train Journey

Travelling by train always seems so familiar. The same crowded platforms with people sleeping/resting on their luggage waiting for their trains, the long queues for platform tickets, the piles of luggage being carried by red-shirted coolies with families walking/running behind, struggling to keep up, stands on wheels selling magazines and books, biscuits and chips, water and aerated drinks (and even samosas, kachoris, tea and coffee), and of course the suffocating, never changing stench that seems to permeate into your clothes and body. 

Apart from being familiar and bringing back childhood memories of vacations, train travel carries that sense of camaraderie (unless your travelling companions are serious jerks who can't get that stick out even for a few hours). There is that shared bond of travelling to the same city, of spending all those hours together, listening to children cry and throw tantrums, of having to drink the same train flavoured caaffee and/or tamaatar soup, of trying to go to the loo while keeping your balance and being stuck in the same train which decides to stand still and let every other train on the Western line go by first. 

Train journeys are reminiscent of playing cards all through, of books and comics shared to while away the time, of constant snacking (trains just make you hungry i think), and of trying to sleep in that narrow space without falling over when u try to get comfortable. 

And of course what makes a train journey most fun is having someone meet you at the end of it. Someone waiting for you to arrive. 

The Fellow was waiting for me. With flowers. It was the best train journey ever. :)

Vicarious Pride

The blogosphere is full of Slumdog Millionaire. I'm going to add my bit to it too because it just has to be said (at least i believe so). 

I'm happy for Danny Boyle and all the cast and crew of the movie. But what i fail to understand is why the Indian film industry is going around all smug and self-congratulatory?? I mean the movie is Brit. Almost all its technicians are Brit. Ok so the music, the concept and a lot of the actors were Indian, but the music was given by a recognised genius who has already done a lot of international work, the concept was in a book by an Indian author (which no one knew of till the movie was released) and the actors are frankly not your superstars who get the juciest ad campaigns or get ego-massaging awards and adulations from the industry. In fact some of them are those whom our stars would have shooed away from their cars or maybe dropped a coin for. 

This credit taking for anything remotely Indian is an old habit in this country. Everytime anyone remotely connected to India achieves something big, our countrymen (and politicians) start doing the victory dance. People, get it clear - Indian origin does not make the person Indian. His ancestory just happens to lead back to India. So stop revelling in vicarioius pride and try and get the real Indians to do something big, or even better, do the victory dance for what they do actually achieve (and not give your highest awards to plastic dolls while ignoring your champions).

But i digress. Agreed that it was a Cinderalla story for SM all through and that it has proven a life altering step for most of its actors. But Indians bursting crackers and celebrating the Oscar sweep is like the Chinese taking credit for Kung-fu Panda. 

Things That Shouldn't Be Allowed...

No. 21

Gossiping Relatives

I guess it's a matter of can't live with them can't live without them. Or can you? 

I for one could do without the aunts (and uncles) who need their daily fix of gossip and scandal, and if there isn't one ready for them, they'll rehash old ones and continue with an analysis that has been going on for years. 

Why gossiping relatives?

Try listening to them for 6 straight hours (without a break) without losing control and going aaaaggghhh!!!

Things That Shouldn't Be Allowed...

No 46.

Lumpy Matresses.

These should be banned in the interest of the spine. Seriously. There's nothing worse than trying to get a good night's rest on a mattress that seems to be designed to torture. No amount of rolling about and trying to find the right spot works - it just serves to align the lumps such that you feel everyone of them. 

Why lumpy matresses all of a sudden? Ask my spine. And the pain. 

But She's Hot

The Fellow was being all nice (and a little weird) and was reading out articles from the newspaper to me over the phone. And being the nice person I am, I didn’t stop him (even when he started reading out comic strips to me!) So I heard everything from the Taliban situation to the Fellow’s weekly forecast (which happily for me, told him that there will be a lot of expense and a lot of shopping involved).

Anywho, suddenly the fellow let out a yelp reeking of injustice

Fellow: “Hey not fair.

Me: “What happened?”

Fellow: They (I don’t know who) have voted Jessica Alba as the worst actor of the last year.”

Me: So?

Fellow: But she’s hot ya!?

If only that was the criteria my dear. If only. 

How Long is a Week?

It's my first time away from the Fellow after we got married. Needless to say the missing him part is only increasing since morning and it doesnt help that the Fellow calls every hour and tells me to come back home (and this when i've been away only 12 hours). 

With 6 more days to go, i'm hoping a week doesn't end up being very long. Sigh. 

Of Chaddis and Bad Men

For some time now i've been thinking i should get some Pink Chaddi love on my blog just to show solidarity in the face of supremely chauvanistic, regressive, insecure and frankly, just plain moronic men. 

I'm not a huge fan of Valentine's day. My earlier post is testimony to that. But this year, like many other non-fans, i'll be looking forward to the 14th. Not to join in the hearts and lace and ugly soft toys parade, but to see how events develop and see what the government is going to do while a glorified goon decides to define Indian culture. 

Speaking of the nationwide movement of Pink Chaddis, Muthalik has said,  

"the move reflected the desperate mindset of these women." 

Right. We are the ones who are desperate. 

He also goes onto say (unfortunately)

"Instead of talking at such base levels on the issue of Indian culture that I have raised, it will be better to debate it at the ideological level. I am prepared for that. Let there be a discussion on it across the table,"

Hmm. I'm guessing he ran out of tables when he decided to attack youngsters at the pub earlier this month. 

Cat Nap

A couple of days back while i was fluffing the living room cushions into an inviting and comfy state, i saw something that seemed suspiciously like animal hair. Now since the Fellow and i haven't (yet) gotten a dog, i assumed some unsuspecting animal lover shed them from their clothes. 

Just then the maid came up to me with a look of extreme disgust and asked me to come into the spare bedroom. Trying not to look scared, i went in with her only to be met by a smell so overpowering that it could mean only one thing - an animal did get in. And no, it did not die in our house. It marked its territory. On our rug. And the hair on in the living room? Apparently the cat decided the big fat cushions were a nice place to rest its tired paws. 

And so every night we check all the doors and windows so that the cat doesnt sneak in while we're sleeping and surprise us with hidden treasures. 

How wrong we were. 

Today morning, the Fellow got out of bed grumbling about how comfortably i was sleeping, while he had to go to work, only to go into the living room to see a big fat tomcat snoozing in the same comfortable state on our cushions! 

I think we've been adopted. 

And So It Begins

Cupids and red hearts have started sneaking their way into window displays and print ads. Marketing gurus are in the process of executing random contests which require a high capacity to withstand social embarassment (and an equally high capability to embarass the hell out of an unsuspecting girl/boy). Women with simpering, watery voices and horrible fake fluttering eyelashes are trying to sell ugly jewellery on the home shopping networks to wimps and desperados. 

It's ten days away and i'm already cringing.