--Blank--

I've lost count of the number times i've started writing this and then hit the backspace key. I don't know where to start. Or what to start with. So much has happened. So much is happening. Sometimes it all feels a bit surreal. This is the kind of thing that happens to other people. 

Life has not been the same since the evening of February 19th 2013. Without going into details here, lets just say that what happened is the worst nightmare in the life of any pilot and his family come true. When i first got the news i went numb for a couple of minutes. I guess my mind refused to process the information until it was sure i had all my coping mechanisms in place. 

The week that followed tested each and every one of those mechanisms. Thankfully, i have my mom's head when it comes to a crisis the likes of which i was faced with. Even while one part of me was numb with disbelief, the other knew that remaining calm was extremely important. I knew that people around me would take their cue from how hysterical or not i was. It wouldn't help anyone, especially the worried parents halfway across the country, if i gave way to my worry and panic. And so during the day, i was strong and practical and non-weepy. I was in good humour about what had happened, looking at the good in the situation and ignoring the what-ifs.   

But back home, exhausted after 12 hours in a hospital chair and alone, the calm would shatter and the tears would fall freely. In a way, those nightly crying sessions rejuvenated me for a whole new day. And i guess i had everyone convinced that nothing fazed me because when i did let my worry show about small concerns like travel plans, they appeared shocked and surprised. After all, i'd remained calm where most wives would get hysterical. 

And now, a month and a half later, when life finally seemed to be going well and we had a lot to look forward to, the universe decided to keep pushing our limits. It seems we hadn't gone through enough and still had some residual bad karma to make up for or something. Nothing else explains the situation we are in now. Unless you want to believe in the whole evil eye concept and how people can't be happy that things are going right for you. 

Yes, in the bigger picture of life, we should just count our blessings and be happy. But i'm out of perspective and so done with looking for silver linings. And i'm tired of being strong and composed. I'm human. I'd like to be able to get hysterical and cry my heart out till my eyes are puffy and painful without having to explain it to anyone. I want to be able to vent and rant and howl. And i want people to stop being shocked by my lack of composure or calm in the face of a messy situation. I want to be able to have a breakdown and not feel guilty about it. I need to be allowed my reactions. And emotions. 

I need it all to just end well.

I want it all to just end. 

Day 1 of 1

Three and a half years back I’d embarked on a personal project – 112 days of writing on my blog – a simple way of distracting myself from the fact that I had to spend those 112 days away from the Fellow. Little did I know that something as simple as this would bring with it a friend I’ve come to love a little bit more each day.

It began with comments on what I would write each day. And even those came much later, after weeks of stalking and mutual admiration (I would also follow his blog regularly). Somewhere along the way we got to talking away from the blogosphere. And the rest is history - dotted with some crazy lunches, insane amounts of laughter, even more food, weekend getaways and some seriously embarrassing videos on the internet.  

Age difference notwithstanding, I found it very easy to talk to him. Okay, so a lot of the talking involved problem solving and/or gyaan giving. But if you knew the stupid things he’d done and would then tell me about, you’d know I had no choice in the matter really. And it turned out that he gave the best hugs. Definitely a keeper.

As the months passed, he took control of his life, made important decisions, corrected stupid mistakes and didn’t bother cutting his hair or shaving his beard. Somewhere along this path to new awareness and more facial hair I became his therapist, for want of a better word. Of course, telling him to grow up and stop whining like a girl is not a method you’d find in any reference text. But it worked.

Yesterday, he grew up, this friend of mine.

And while I couldn’t be there in person to see this eternal 8 year old make one of the most difficult commitments there is to make, I knew he’d be doing it without a moment of doubt in his mind. After all he’d be crazy not to realise he was lucky to be bound by law and at least 2 different pandits to the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Today was day one of a new life.

And in honour of how we met, Day 1 of 1.

Growing Up. Or Not.

Note: What you're about to read is just my opinion. Please do not inundate me with comments justifying your lifestyle and decisions you make. The internet is not meant to be taken this seriously.

It's in fashion these days to complain. The weather, the prices, our politicians, the economy, public transport, no public transport, parents, traffic, a chipped nail, the neighbour's dog, the boss' wife...

Most of the times there is just cause for complaint. I mean, a chipped nail can be extremely annoying. Everyone knows that. But in most other cases, it's just the cool thing to complain. How else will you be part of a group? Belong? Today, accepting and proclaiming that you're content and happy with your life is extremely uncool. And what is happening because of this, is that people are hoping they have unsatisfactory lives, just so they get to complain about it. Not that people have a problem being fake. But still. 

Everywhere i look, there are people holding onto things they did 10 yrs back, hoping that if they don't think about it, they won't have to grow up. And i personally believe that if, as a 30 yr old, you insist on behaving and thinking like a 19 yr old, you're going to have a hell lot to complain about. Especially if your peer group has evolved over the years and has moved beyond drink fests, casual flings and dissing long term commitments. 

A lot of "free thinking" people might suggest that it's only in India that such pressure exists for people to settle down, as it were. I disagree. It's just that here, we are more vocal about such things and families and relatives are actively involved in the process. Intrusive even. But the pressure exists around the world. 

The latest in trends these days, is to complain about all the people getting engaged/married/pregnant. But if you're 30+, single and complaining about these things, it's simply because you haven't grown up enough to make such commitments. I'm not saying that everyone should be hitched and or ready to be a parent by 30. But if you mock those who are, it says a lot about you and not the other person.

And that's all i have to say.

*end of rant*

Short Cuts

This is attempt number 873 at writing a new post for this space and since i've decided that i'm no longer mentally capable of achieving that task, i'm going to take the easy way out and use the "vishesh tippani" format so loved by Marathi exam paper setters in the Maharashtra state board. *stops for breathe* 

Bal Thackeray died. Bombay froze (literally) of of sheer terror, just like a deer does when facing a predator. It's pure self-preservation. I just wish we had the skills of a skunk and instead of rolling over and playing dead, the city had shot out super stinky stuff at the bad guys. It's been 3 days and the internet  is full of all kinds of analyses and discussions and opinions. I'm not going to add to it. At least not any more.

Pune was also in shut down mode. The only good thing that came of it was that the Fellow got to have a mini adventure when he went shopping for vegetables. Yes he does that. I've trained him well. Anyway.  We had dinner guests and no veggies in the house. So he heads out to the closest market which is literally abandoned. Except for one man who tells the Fellow to follow a kid who will take him to what he wants. Turns out, one guy was selling vegetables. Out of his house. He invited the Fellow in, offered him tea and proceeded to weigh out everything i'd put on the shopping list. And then he told him to take an alternative route out of the place to avoid goons on the lookout for any shady activity. The Fellow came home totally thrilled and with a new story for parties. 

Before the old man died, Diwali came to town. Our first time away from any family which was a bummer. But it forced me to clean up my act and do grown up stuff - like stringing fairy lights all over the house and lighting so many candles the Fellow was sure i was going to burn the place down. In the end, i cooked the food of my childhood Diwali celebrations and to add to the joy, the Fellow enjoyed it. So many days later, and i'm still clearing the house of marigold petals. Fun times. 

A lot of our old friends are going to be in town this December. It's going to be a happy end to an interesting year. With such a nomadic lifestyle, catching up with old friends is a pleasure unmatched. 

Am at the end of my rope when it comes to the Fellow's boss' wife. She's an annoying, loud-mouthed, opinionated, rude woman who thinks she's the boss of all the women she meets. And one of these days i'm going to bitchslap her in full drama mode right in the middle of one of her "i'm so cool" speeches. No really. Just because you drink neat scotch and don't have volume control doesn't mean you're cool.

The Fellow is crazy busy at work. Even as i type this out he's been at work for 12 hours. Which means that i've been alone for those 12 hours with no one to talk to. And for those who know me personally, you know what a huge deal that is. So here i am, super cranky and no one to vent to, knowing very well that if i vent to the Fellow after he comes home following an insane day at home, i'll be the bitch. 

Sigh. 

Today I Was Told...

…I’ve been taking my medication wrong. I need to take it in the morning and not in the evening because what my doctor told me is wrong. You see, if you’ve been taking the same medicine for the last 15 years, you’re automatically made a doctor and the all knowing expert about it. Everyone else is wrong.

…I need to lose weight. Because I don’t know I need to lose weight. I like not having clothes fit me anymore. Also, it’s been a long time since I was this size so I’m shocking people. Oh the horror.

…I should go for my walk in the mornings and not in the evening. Apparently evening walks are only for mental good.  If I need any physical benefit, I need to go in the morning when the body is fresh. Sure. Because I’m the epitome of energy and joy at 6 am. Oh, and I can go back to sleep once I’m done with the walk so that’s supposed to be the silver lining.

…I should eat more fruit. A couple of apples and pomegranates a day isn’t enough. I should be able to put down half a watermelon and/or a whole papaya after every meal to make it count.

…I don’t drink enough water. I have to have a bottle surgically attached to my hand and make sure my kidneys are functioning at their optimum by drinking at least 10-12 litres a day. It doesn’t matter that my kidneys aren’t made to work so much. But so what? I have two.

…Bombay has *so* much variety in crockery. Which is why visitors who come here insist on buying more each time they’re here. Apparently I’ve been doing it wrong. You’re not supposed to make glassware last years on end. No. You’re supposed to buy a new set every year. Didn’t you know?

…My FitFlops aren’t as good as some others. They’re not as comfortable to walk in but where did I get them from? Because *everyone* is wearing them and it would only be right to buy a pair too.

…I have zero fashion sense because at my age I’m not wearing “frocks” when I go out with friends. Kurtis and jeans are for those turning 50. The young don’t wear them.

…I have fat arms. And a big bum. But these are hereditary so I’m not entirely to be blamed. Pitied rather.

…When I get blood tests done, I’m a fool for getting x, y and z tested. I should get only z. So what if all three might be important for a comparative study? Or that the same tube-full of blood can be used for multiple tests? No. I have to save that 100 bucks where I can. Because that 400 bucks on imported oregano (to be used in masala pasta) that was bought simply because it’s imported was plucked off a tree right?

This is day 1. The giver of all this gyan is here for another 2 days. You can imagine just how thrilled I am.

In the Air

So jaded and cynical we have become of life that we’ve forgotten to look for the small joys, hidden as they are. It took me an hour long flight to Ahmedabad to realise this sad truth of our allegedly superior city living.

On the flight was a group of elderly women, on their first plane journey. That they were from a village was obvious from their attire and the fact that excitement hung over their seats like a happy cloud with rainbows streaking through. As the aircraft taxied for take-off, most of the passengers leaned back in their seats, eyes closed, preparing for what was a routine experience. Not these ladies. Childish giggling and whispers could be heard from them even as the aircraft picked up speed and leapt into the air. Oh how I wished at that time that it was my first airplane ride, just so that I could share in what those women were experiencing – unbridled pleasure and glee, untouched by the fake expressions city folk have gotten used to, as they saw the city growing smaller and smaller before their eyes and getting enveloped by fluffy white clouds broken only by arrows of sunshine. Of course, they were also the only ones on the entire aircraft who actually heard what the cabin crew was saying about safety procedures, even looking shocked at the idea of emergency landings.

As we flew to Ahmedabad, I don’t think any of these women sat back in her seat even once. All of them kept leaning towards the window, trying to get a look outside. At one point a cramped version of musical chairs happened when the women exchanged seats so that everyone could get a chance by the window. So much fun. And when the food trolley passed by, it was simply hilarious, their expressions, at hearing the cost of samosas and chai. Of course, there were some aware people in the group. They chose to lecture their friends on how to appear cool about prices when sitting in an aeroplane.

And then there was the new experience of going to the toilet in the air. I think they were waiting for someone to go first, all of them being a little shy. But as soon as the first one got up to go, all of them did. And their faces when they came back! I never realised that the cramped tiny space that passes for a restroom in airplanes could be so fascinating. Of course, i think that some of them went into the lavatory only to be able to describe it for years to come.

On landing, the women burst into spontaneous applause and laughter. Unable to control my curiosity any longer, I leaned forward and asked one of the men accompanying them what this was all about. And the answer thrilled me to no end. These women were all from the same village, most of them related to each other. The men accompanying them were sons, nephews, grandsons who’d decided to give them the experience of a lifetime. Since these women had only heard about, seen planes on tv and in magazines, they’d decided to fly them from Pune to Ahmedabad. In fact, the group was scheduled to take the evening train back to Pune the very same day, having had the best time of their life already.

I’m glad I was on the plane that day. Even today, thinking about that journey, I smile. And I remind myself that flying up there with the clouds is something to be excited about, no matter how jaded I might be on ground. 

Once the seatbelt sign was off, they stood up to look at the clouds  

Preparing to get off the aircraft

Group Photo

For the First Time...

...I’ve felt bad for people living in Bombay. Okay, maybe I feel bad for them (and myself) each time I’m stuck in a horrendous traffic jam in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, but today I felt sorry for them. An emotion I’d never thought I would feel.

I say them because I don’t live here anymore. Technically. Yes, I may spend quite a lot of time in this city and Bombay will always be home, but I’ve experienced life outside of potholes and traffic jams and muggy weather that makes you want to kill yourself every other day. And I grudgingly accept that it feels good. Sure, I miss the comforts of having everything at your doorstep, and I definitely miss the food. But I’m beginning to realise these are luxuries one can live without.

But I get ahead of myself here. What inspired such feelings was wanting to assuage the building guilt (of living on mithai for the last 2 weeks) by heading out for a walk. But as soon as I’d decided on resuming my evening ritual, I was faced with the problem of where to go. The beach was too wet and littered with plastic from the sea, the roads near home too full of open manholes, crazy traffic and crateresque (yes, it’s a word) potholes. Not to speak of the million and one construction sites that have left a permanent haze of concrete dust in the air. That left a joggers park with a round walking track of some 200 metres as my only option.

So the grandmom (forcibly taken for some exercise) and I get to the park and I realise that (a) all of the senior citizen population of the area were there and (b) most of the under 40 were there too. Walking the track was like walking on Churchgate station at 5.30 pm, dodging people right left and centre in an attempt to get ahead. Of course, most of the elderly were sitting on chairs provided in the park, content to take in some greenery and fresh air and gossip for an hour or two with friends. Some of them were brave enough to venture out for a walk, making their way around the track slowly and steadily. Then there were those who were obviously there on medical advice. There was also the category of walkers who seemed to have lost their way, standing out in their jeans and fancy kurtis. Which left the serious walkers, children and maids with babies in prams.

And this is when I felt sorry for people living in Bombay. And myself. I missed the luxury of stepping out of my house and having all the space in the world to go for a walk. I missed the fresh air, the absence of traffic, the long winding lanes I could go down without worrying about potholes and open drains. I felt sorry for the people in the park then, who had to search for a patch of green and some place to walk without worrying about getting hit by a speeding car. I felt bad for the children who couldn’t run around carefree and untroubled, restricted by the rules of the park and limited to a pair of swings. And I felt some relief that I wasn’t living in Bombay anymore.

Because I can’t imagine being bound by concrete and traffic anymore.