Confession

It’s been two years and some months since the wedding. And even today, whenever he comes back home after a month, a week or even a day away, I can’t keep the anticipation, expectation and excitement away. For hours before he is to arrive, a grin appears and stays plastered. It gets difficult to focus on any task and I find myself day dreaming in full teenage manner. Then there is the constant clock-watching/peering out of the window that happens (coupled with deep sighs) which just about completes the corny picture I’m painting right?

Well, then I wont talk about all the effort I put into my outfit and hair or you’ll just think I’m pathetic. Oh wait…

One of Those Moments When it’s Just Words. No Sentences.

Marriage.

A new life.

A changed life.

A new family.

A new city.

New people.

Different people.

And somewhere amongst them, friends.

And now, another change.

Another city.

Another set of people, differences.

And maybe, just maybe, friends?

Of Travel Companions

You know how some people look really familiar and you can’t figure out for the life of you why? And then you know how you assume it’s a very common combination of features and go on to plug your headphones in, ignoring that person? Yes?

Turns out, not a very good idea. Why? Because that person seemingly knows your entire family, is somehow related to you, and is (as you has correctly inferred already), a dragon of the kind that shreds reputations to pieces and gossips the ears off a donkey.

And so, after about two and half hours of getting away with pretending to work on your laptop (all the while watching Greys Anatomy S07), you are asked where you live. And little did you know that one small, innocuous detail will result in three of five travel companions naming all of your dad’s family, complete with details that made it to the gossip circuit, and start asking you all kinds of weird questions, including why you have no brothers. And then when you try to hint at ending the conversation (by the simple act of putting the headphones back on), they ignore the subtlety and continue talking.

The next 3 hours then see (mostly) one sided discussions on love marriages (these are spoken about in hushed, dripping with judgement tones), municipal corporations (with reference to how many people they know personally there), daughterinlaws wearing sarees and covering their heads (epic WTFness this), cricket, the Gujarat riots, merits of bhujiya, bread and achaar and of course, whether the train was on time or not.

Yes, a lot of mental barfage happened. And yes, parts of the brain withered up and died. But now you know that the next time someone in a train asks you where you live, pretend to have amnesia.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

I became an aunt on January 14^th 2011. And today, I still can’t give you a name for my month and a few days old niece. And not because her parents can decide upon one name. No siree. It’s because her greatgrandmother, grandparents, grand-aunts and uncles and aunts can’t decide upon one name.

And it’s beginning to get a little much, all this joint family love that is being shown. I mean, its awesome that the little one arrived amidst a wedding and all of the extended family. But taking into consideration every one of those extended opinions has only resulted in the baby remaining unnamed. Even a nickname hasn’t been decided upon. The only thing everyone is in agreement with is that the new greatgrandmother not be allowed to saddle the little girl with names like laddi, bitiya, barfi and other similar concoctions. Her latest offering was Laali or something similar. Yes. I know. She needs help.

But before that, *we* need help. And a name.

Edited: The day after writing this post, the baby finally had a name. Nandini.

Of Lists and Boxes

At most times the neurotic, list-making, slightly obsessed with organisation freak-show in me is very useful. I get things done and get them done well. And it keeps me happy, all those lists. Ask the Fellow.

Unfortunately, for the first time (since I realised I’m happiest making lists), this slight obsession is more of a hindrance than anything else. I mean, one would assume that packing up house and moving could do with some super organisational skills and perfect lists about everything (down to the last clothes-pin) right? Wrong.

It’s been almost 2 weeks and I’m going nuts. You try packing your entire house into trunks and you shall know the feeling. You also try doing it in the most efficient and organised manner known to mankind and you’ll be checking into a mental health facility at the earliest. Believe me. I spent several days coming up with the best way of packing everything, and when I was done, I realised I might need about 45 more trunks and close to 4 months to get it all done perfectly. And even then, I wasn’t sure how I would go about unpacking it all.

And so for the last several days, most of my time has been spent standing in the middle of the house taking deep breaths and hoping that if I stayed still long enough, elves would sneak out from somewhere and get all the work done.

In the meantime, I shall continue making lists till it’s too late to do anything but throw everything in the boxes and be on our way. Sigh.

Catharsis

The anger flowed through her like it had a life of its own – taking over like nothing had in several years. It was like all that control she had acquired in almost a decade was being burnt away by the sheer intensity and venomous nature of the rage that coursed through her body. It was all she could do to keep the words that threatened to spill out of her contained. Some part of her brain reminded her that what she wanted to shout out would only end up hurting everyone, her included. Instead, the anger spilled over in the form of tears.

Tears that hurt no one.

And then she wrote.

And We Move

Bring out the boxes and bubblewrap, it’s time to get busy. The Fellow and I move to Pune in a month and amidst my excitement and thrill at moving closer to Bombay (yay!) there is a lot of (and I mean a *lot* of) panic happening. I’ve never had to pack up my entire life in one place and move to another at such short notice. The last time I did it, I was getting married and then the panic was of a different kind (naturally).

Right now, my biggest worry is getting everything packed. Seriously. Have you seen the amount of stuff we have? It’s astonishing just the sheer number of glasses we own. And I’m not even getting started on all the linen we’ve bought in the last two years. Of course, it might help if I actually started packing things up, instead of spending my time drawing up lists upon lists. But then if I did, there would be nothing to write about no? And so I give in to the neurotic in me and get giddy with happiness as I list out (very prettily, complete with doodles, if I might add) all the work I have to do in the next 4 weeks.

4 weeks. To pack up and move.

A Wedding and All That

The sister has been married 10 days today and it's taken me just that long to get over the exhaustion. And since i've tried and failed at coming up with a blog post that would describe the wedding and how tiring/fun it was, i'll leave you with a few photos.