Musings in the Dark

For the last hour or so, every 20 minutes, we're plunged into darkness. And silence. Except for the beeping of the UPS and the crickets outside the window. Lit up only by my computer screen and the iPad in the Fellow's hands, the house seems seamless. 

And then the Fellow asks, "What would you do if we were to live without electricity?" I told him we'd light loads of candles and read. Maybe bring out the board games. But he persisted. "Not for a few minutes or hours, but starting now, if you had to go without electricity then what?" 

I told him we would adapt. Like generations before us. Only this time, we'd be adapting to living without electricity as opposed to getting used to it. Adapting to changing times (and technology) is the only reason humans are still around. Otherwise there wouldn't even be a stone age man right? And i'm pretty certain that when electricity  was first brought into the house for things as innocuous as light bulbs, it wasn't received with open, welcoming arms. I'm pretty sure people clung on to their natural light sources as long as they could. 

If today, we're plunged into a world without electricity, I'm quite sure that a lot of us will  cling on to the last vestiges of the battery life on all of our gadgets with as much emotion as Nirupa Roy held her dying sons to her bosom. And then will begin the withdrawal symptoms. But eventually, and i'm guessing it won't take too long, we'll get used to it. We'll adapt. Our grandmoms didn't need a mixer grinder to make the most awesome food ever. We'll learn. We might even start talking to each other over dinner. And trusting the other when a time and place are decided to meet up at, instead of making 15 phone calls in 7 minutes asking where the other person is. 

And then there is all the quiet we'll have. Do you know how much noise all our electrical gadgets make? You realise this only when you have a power cut and you can suddenly hear nature in all it's glory. Yes, even in a city like Bombay. 

But this is all hypothetical. And thought of only because the Fellow was thinking aloud. What do you think? Would you be able to live in a world without electricity?

Scribbles

24th May 2012: Once more i find myself at that ugly place called writer's block. This time it's the size of and as ugly as a certain industrialist's south Bombay abode. And all i seem to be doing is sit next to it on a small wooden stool, the kind watchmen sit on, and stare up at the cold concrete tower, wallowing in self pity.

30th May 2012: Several hours after i wrote the above, I decided i couldn't sleep and so ventured out for a midnight stroll through the house. No. Not to the kitchen (though anyone who knows me would have to make that assumption), but to get the ebook reader from the living room. Now, for some reason that i forget now, i decided to conduct this *excursion* in pitch darkness, confident as i was in my ability to avoid walking into tables and walls. And i did. I got back to my room safely. Which was when i had a spectacular fall, tripping over the Fellow's suitcase (which, btw, was right in the middle of the doorway). Now you remember i had an expensive gadget in my hand? Yeah. To save that, i sacrificed the right side of my body, landing quite efficiently, on my right palm. Where was the Fellow in all of this you ask? Snuggled under his blanket, snoring lightly. Anyway. I dusted myself off, cursed the man who was oblivious to his wife's predicament and crawled into bed. 

I spent the next 5 days with my right wrist in a bandage. The doctor i visited was mighty amused and a little concerned about my mental state because the last time i went to her was because I'd walked into a rusted metal peacock and needed a tetanus shot. Which, at my age, apparently, is a little weird. I want to know who decides these things. 

2nd June 2012: All day was spent recuperating from a dinner party the day before. I'd spent all day on my feet, first cooking a meal for some 8 people and then playing host. Thankfully we'd I'd make a good decision about the guest list and so not too much effort was spent entertaining them. Alcohol and embarrassing stories were enough. Of course, they also had their children to entertain/distract them as they went about systematically trying to break my new super cool coasters (and all because they had chickens drawn on them. But that's another story). Oh, and in other party related news, i'm now the italian food expert around here. Though credit goes entirely to the friend who very kindly gave me his red sauce  and lasagne recipe, which the Fellow has now requested i make at least once a week. Yes. I have my own Garfield.

5th June 2012: Here i am. Procrastinating. Hoping like hell i can get off that stool sometime soon.  

Opposites Attract, Yes.

She was from the plains. He was from the mountains.
She was motion sick. He lived life at a minimum of 900km/hr.
She could live on icecream and frozen yoghurt. He didn't understand how.
She liked to be 5 mins early wherever she went. He timed it to the last second.
She was an organised neurotic. He never knew where his things were.
She ate aloo parathas for dinner. He insisted they were breakfast.
She froze at 17 deg C. He laughed at her and turned the fan on.
She listened to Bedardi Raja on loop. He worshiped Bob Dylan.
She had a mild case of road rage. He switched the engine off and waited.
She made friends at the drop of a hat. He took his time.
She didn't understand management and finance. He bought books about them.
She was a stationery whore. He was a slut for gadgets and gizmos.
She could live on sandwiches. He didn't think it counted as proper food.
She wore uncomfortable heels for vanity. He shook his head in disbelief.

Talk about opposites.

PS: this came to me randomly as i enjoyed some strawberry icecream earlier today, even as i shivered in the cold that has descended onto Pune.

Say Three

Post dated: 2^nd December 2011.

Three years.

Of sleeping on the left side of the bed.

Of navigating from the passenger seat.

Of deciding lunch and dinner menus.

Of making watery maggi.

Of never having to look anywhere else for tech-support.

Of fighting over chocolate cake every single time.

Of explaining why cushions are important for the living room.

Of always having someone to talk to at parties.

Of trips to Shimla.

Of fighting over bandwidth and download limits.

Of rolling my eyes every time I buy apples because a lecture goes with it. Every time.

Of inside jokes.

Of not being in Bombay.

Of getting flowers whenever I come back home. Or even when I’m at home.

Of having late night ice-cream cravings fulfilled.

Of getting science lessons at the drop of a hat.

Of trunks.

Of being told I need to learn how to change a car tire and then not being allowed to do it.

Of sharing gossip in the car ride home after parties.

Of not having to explain how I want my drink.

Of relearning the meaning of hot and cold as pertaining to the water and weather.

Of understanding that a man can never have too many gadgets. Or wires.

Of being made aware of the fact that there is nothing like too much gaming.

Of finally learning that primary colours are all that he’ll ever recognize.

Three years. And we’re just getting started.

Of Compression.

One of the hazards of marrying a fauji is the nomadic lifestyle. Everything you buy (that is not clothes)  has to be considered in terms a) how easy is it to pack and transport and (b) whether it will survive a cross-country journey in a rickety truck. This makes it a tad bit difficult when eyeing glass stuff or really gorgeous but delicate things that wont last even one move (like that awesome handcrafted miniature ship, complete with sails and stuff, but that's another post altogether). But glass and the like are not the only things difficult to move. Books are. Especially if you own a couple of trunkfulls of them. Ever tried moving a trunk that had only books in it? It's akin to moving a large boulder (as i learnt the hard way), done only at personal risk and little care for your back. Also, it's near impossible to move. So what do you do? You could distribute the books over all your various trunks. But that has its own problems which i'll talk about some other time. Or you could do what we did - cartons. Bubblewrap inside and out. Except that we ended up with some 9 cartons of books, 8 of which are still waiting to be opened (owing to several factors not entirely in our control). But considering our experience with the one carton of books that was opened (as well almost another carton full that emerged from trunks along with the ones we've bought in the past few months), we can't help be glad the bulk of our books are still packed away. 

Before you gasp and call us boors, hear me out ok. 

In the last 6 months we've moved 4 houses. And with every move, at least one car trip to and fro from the old to the new house has been entirely dedicated to our books. Do you know how tiring it is climbing up and down stairs with armfulls of books and loading/unloading them? Especially if you love them and are loath to toss them around without a care? The last time we had to do this (yesterday), we finally put all the books in a big drum sized bucket and heaved it up to the new house. This is when the Fellow finally decided upon something we've been unsure about (and i'm still not entirely convinced, no matter how tired i am of balancing book towers as i try to open the car door single handed) - the Kindle. He has now come to the conclusion that Kindles (and other e-book readers) were designed for faujis. After lugging about one-eighth of our books around four houses (along with the unopened cartons, dont you forget), the man has finally had it with hardcopies and is now looking forward to his entire collection weighing in at a few hundred grams. And when i tell you that he even mentioned both of us with our Kindles, you'll know how serious he is. 

But for now, i'm holding onto my paperbacks (vehemently) and figuring out where best to get bookshelves installed in the new house. We'll have this discussion when we  have to move houses again. Till then, lead me to Flipkart someone. 

So Much To Say

You know how too many cooks spoil the broth? Yeah. Too many things to talk about ruin your blog.  I have so much to say and so many things to vent/opine about that i can't decide what to write about and then end up just cussing under my breath and glaring at everyone, whilst playing Bejewelled on my phone. What? It's addictive. And really brainless. 

So let's get chronological. 

Holiday

Week-long holiday happened in Singapore with the Fellow. Stayed with the sister and brotherinlaw and fed them aloo parathas. Yes, i did the whole big sister thing. I'm nice like that. Also, brought in the 28th birthday there, spending the entire day at Universal Studios, screaming my way through roller-coasters (which i was dragged onto by the unfeeling husband and unconcerned sister). But i got some brilliant strawberry pannacotta for lunch, so yay! Apart from that, lots of walking around Singapore happened - allowing me guilt-free hogging at every meal (a good thing considering how awesome the food was). Shopping happened too - bulk of it at Ikea (duh) and we were probably the only people to enter Mustafa and not walk out with a TV. No really. 2 golf sets, yes. But no TV. 

All in all, a good vacation. I would put up photos, but those have been jinxed. Ever since we've come back, the computer has been giving up on me, resulting in a motherboard and a harddisk replacement. Thankfully, in an act of supreme inefficiency, i didn't delete the photos from the camera after transfer and so i'm not too worried about losing them. 

Good News (the really good types)

So, the last few months of my life had been totally preoccupied with the one question that plagues a fauji wife - Where are we moving to next. Yes. Even though we'd been in Pune only a few months, another move was on the horizon. Unfair? Tell me about it. Anyhoo. To cut a long story short, after months of stress, uncertainty and new ulcers, just as we returned home from Singapore, we were informed that we get to stay in Pune. Yipeeeee! The perfect ending to a fantastic holiday the Fellow says. 

Caterpillar 

The Fellow found a fat caterpillar on the ground and i brought it home. Why? Because it was the kind that would become a butterfly some day. I put it in a jar and made holes for air. I also put leaves in it and checked up on it every 15 mins to check whether it was alive. It was. And totally hyperactive. Or it was just looking for an escape route. Why do i say that? Because 2 days later, the Fellow found it in the computer room, a whole house away from where i'd left the jar in the kitchen. Here's what i think happened - the jar was on the window sill and the lid (kept loosely on) blew off in the strong winds that were happening. And the wiley caterpillar ran for it. Sadly, his sad story touched something in the Fellow's heart and he decided to let it go in the wilderness that is our neighbour's garden. Sigh. The End.

Bombay

Since i'm trying to become a *young entrepreneur*, trips to Bombay have to be oft made. Not that i'm complaining. But what was to be a couple of days has become a week and a half. Thankfully, this time round, i got work done. Also suleimani chai happened at Prithvi with two boys and a girl (and a really photogenic old man with a flute). Movie also happened with a friend i've known since we were 12 and i think he called me stubborn and impossible more than once during the evening. We also got wet in the unannounced and torrential rain that happened in Bombay on Wednesday evening. Haan, and the sister arrived on her way to Jaipur for her first karva chauth, but that's another story all together. 

Moving Houses

I'm writing about this primarily because i'm not doing it. Heeheehee. Yes ladies and gentlemen. The Fellow, in an act worthy of Superman, has shifted houses in 3 hours, trunks and potted plants included. All i have to do now is locate my stuff under all the mess that is bound to be the new place (you think he'll take the hint  and clean up? Or too much to ask?) Anyway. Whatever it might be, i was spared the supreme torture of moving and i'll be eternally (read: a couple of days) grateful to him for that. 

Shimla

Next week we leave for Shimla where home and the inlaws (mine) await us. We haven't been there in the longest time and i'm totally looking forward to piping hot tomato soup and fresh french fries on Mall road. What? So i like food. Not like the Fellow isnt waiting to get his teeth into his favourite momos and chocolate pastries there. So, family time awaits us, and like i promised a pint sized genius yesterday, i'm going to try blog more while there, so maybe some productivity shall happen too. 

Phew. That was a long and totally random post. If you're reading this, remind me to send you a thank you note :) 

Of Soot and Awesomeness

So, there was a little accident in the house when the Fellow and I were both away. Our two and a half year old LG refrigerator decided it had had enough of life and spontaneously (or so I imagine) combusted. The result? A charred and bombed out fridge, curtains that cannot be used ever again except perhaps as rags, a kitchen that looked like it had been in Pompei, wardrobes that need dry cleaning, and wall resembling something out of a horror story, complete with blackened spider webs hanging off the ceilings.

I won’t bore you with the details (and there are a *lot*), but let’s just say that it took the Fellow and me nearly 10 days to move all our belongings to a new house and get about 90% soot free (10% being the clothes that were awaiting their turn at the dry cleaners). Of course, even before we were 5% soot free, the broadband internet connection was in place and the DTH service on track. We were home so to say (C’mon, you know home is where the broadband is). And just as soon as something of a routine was in place, however dysfunctional it might be (I mean, no pillows, or pillow covers, no functional kitchen, no fridge, no broom even, and just 4 curtains), I left to attend a friend’s wedding in Bombay and finish some incomplete work. And just in time. The next day we were allotted a bigger house, meaning that the just moved into house would have to be moved out of and into a new house again, making it our 4^th move in as many months. Yes, that is the screaming inside my head that you can hear.

But before you start feeling bad for me, remember the Fellow and how awesome he can be at times like these. Yes. I do have nice things to say about the Fellow you know. Anyhoo, he insists I stay in Bombay, finish my work and not stress about moving house. He would do it all. And being the good Indian wife that I am, how can I not listen to my husband right?

PS: The next post shall be a visual one. Then you may feel bad for me and my soot-filled soul.

PS2: If you follow me on Twitter, maybe the next post will help you forgive me for bombing your timelines with self obsessed talk about soot and my traumatised life.

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…

Of That Fragrance

Warning: Out of character mushy post follows.

I don’t know if it happens with everyone or only with me, but I tend to make very strong memories revolving around certain smells and fragrances. And then years later, all I need to do is get a whiff of a certain perfume and I find myself galloping down memory lane at full speed.

Today it was Axe Click. An almost empty can of the deodorant was found and one sniff almost brought tears to my eyes. And no, I’m not this weepy usually - must be all the hormones. Anyhoo. This scent brings back memories of when the Fellow and I were dating (and he wore it all the time). And even though it wasn’t that back in the past, there is a certain nostalgia attached to it. A certain combination of feelings and emotions that come rushing back, making it seem like just yesterday when we were wondering about our future, whether we would even get one together and what it would hold for us. And so the deo doesn’t remind me only of the good times. It also reminds me of all those times when things were bumpy and a tight hug was the only thing that felt right with the world – a hug that brought me closer to that scent and a feeling of being safe somehow.

A feeling I always associate with the Fellow. And with this scent.

Where I'm Not Complaining For a Change

Yes. I'm happy and not whining. The Fellow is back and all's right with the world.

And to think he almost didn't make it back today thanks to an ugly, black, rain saturated cloud hovering right above the city. After he told me how close it had been (a mere 5 mins would have had a super grumpy me venting here instead) i realised how close i had been to murder. First the Fellow's boss and then maybe the rest of the chaps who managed to beat the bad weather home.

But for now, i'm at peace with everyone. Even the non-stop rain that flooded my garden and probably drowned to death my new plants.

Tomorrow is a new day though. I'm sure the high will be replaced by my usual, familiar, crankiness.

Of Anticipation

The Fellow has been away for three weeks now. Originally I was to join him a couple of days later and spend most of the 3 weeks seeing a new place and meeting some old acquaintances. But as such things go, a lack of acceptable accommodation led to a cancellation (twice) and I had to resign myself to the fact that I was stuck at home alone.

Which was not such a bad thing except that I don’t think I’ve eaten a full (or remotely healthy) meal here (and have had to attend some tea parties). The only time I got fed properly in all this time was when I crashed at my aunt’s house for a couple of days. And even then I missed my broadband connection and television too much to continue there despite the lure of the food!

And so I waited. For the Fellow to return and for me to have some semblance of a routine once again (a pleasant prospect even with cooking I would have to do). He was to come back home yesterday morning – an arrival much planned for and definitely looked forward to. The wives of the other chaps who had also been away decided we should go armed with a cake to the workplace and welcome the husbands back with pomp. I decided (at a personal level) to get the house cleaned and the refrigerator stocked once again. There were several other plans made, including some movies, drives and weekend getaways.

Unfortunately, the universe has a way of sensing anticipation. And it sneaks in with a sharp, near invisible needle to burst the happy, shining balloon. At first it had been not enough rooms to accommodate everyone. Yesterday morning the needle was in the form of a thunderstorm that lasted several hours and felled at least a hundred trees. And so the Fellow couldn’t come back.

Today, I’m still waiting. But not an ounce of anticipation. Not this time.

Of Food, Cleaning Up and Panic

So the Fellow and I had our first dinner party last night. Needless to say, I was the one hyperventilating all through the day, cooking, tasting, cleaning, supervising (the maid), re-tasting, organising and trying to get the Fellow away from this computer long enough to help out some. The Fellow, on the other hand, dusted off the bottles of alcohol, made sure the beer was refrigerated and checked if there was enough ice to last through the night. Yes, he did help when asked (like grating a whole tin of cheese and getting the crockery out) but like he said, at one point I was creating work for him, just to keep him involved! Eventually I let him be, and just demanded he shave and change into something presentable for the evening.

Why was I so worked up about a simple dinner? Well, to begin with, we’ve never had a party at home, so that was a little scary. It’s surprising how much stuff gets spread around the house and how much I sounded like my mom when I was putting things away. As I ran around the house, organising and tidying up, the Fellow had only one thing to say (which he yelled from his den while taking a break from Mass Effect 2): lock all the rooms so people don’t go in there, and this way you won’t have to clean anything up. Keep them contained within the living room, dining room and garden he said. And he ended his monologue with “my house, my rules”.

Once I got past the Fellow and his gyan (by simply not listening anymore), I started worrying about the food. I’ve never cooked for anyone besides my immediate family (who unfortunately had to live through my experimenting-with-cooking-stage of life) and the Fellow. And since, for the past year, I’ve been cooking for only two, I had next to no idea how to cook for more people. This obviously meant second guessing myself and wondering if what I made would be enough for everyone.

Well, as it turned out, I could have invited another 8 people over for dinner, and still have food left over [Note: The Fellow, who hadn’t taken a look at how much I’d cooked till after the party was over and we were cleaning up, still hasn’t stopped laughing].

And so, even with all the pre-party nervousness, behaviour resembling the Energiser bunny, last minute checks on everything (including the Fellow), a 10 minute window of panic (when no one arrived at the designated time), and a refrigerator full of food at the end of it all (not to talk of aching feet), my first dinner party was a huge success.

I’m now a fully functional fauji wife!

Silver Lining

So the Fellow is really busy with some huge show his organisation is putting up. I mean, apart from 12-14 hour work days (which begin at 6.30 in the morning), he’s also been working weekends (which does mean no parties, so yay for that at least).

But even with the thankless hours the Fellow had to work, and having to float around the house alone most of the day, it was all ok. Why? Well, at least the Fellow would come back home to me every evening and I could talk his ears off while he tried to finish his game on the PSP (all the time hmm-ing away, pretending to be listening to me).

And now it’s gotten all warped. 3 days back he left for a couple of hours’ work, and ended up staying away for 2 days. Today he returned (mainly to refresh his overnight case) for about 45 mins, and then went off again. I’m not sure whether he’ll return tonight. Or tomorrow night. Which is very uncool.

However, since I’m the optimistic kind (ok. So I also twist the truth at times), I decided it wasn’t all bad. I mean, when the Fellow called and texted in the middle of the day just to say hello, I couldn’t stop grinning (then he said he wasn’t coming home, so I sulked. But that’s not what I’m talking about here). It reminded me of the days when we were dating and were living in different cities. I didn’t realise how much I missed those long lo-ong phone calls and those constant texts to and fro, talking, arguing, dreaming. And I know I missed the anticipation and the waiting for him to call – the skipping a heartbeat when I saw his name flashing on my phone when least expected (or when expected), is a feeling that nothing can match.

And so, even though I really miss the Fellow, and am annoyed he isn’t here to hold hands with (it’s cold. And my hands are freezing.), I’m seeing the silver lining on the cloud. And I’m waiting for his next call.

Of The Past and The Future

So we attended a wedding a couple of days back and in the first half hour the Fellow was convinced he’d lost all motivation and will to attend such dos anymore. Why you ask? Because the only girl he has to look out for now, is me. No more scanning the crowd for the hottest chick in the crowd, no more engaging eye contact and definitely no more flirting in an attempt to get her phone number. Oh, and following a girl you met at a wedding, some 200 odd kilometres just because she was uber-hot, that’s a total no no now.

And so, all through the evening, the Fellow kept shaking his head looking trapped. Till he had a brilliant idea. He decided that since he can’t use his years of experience and valuable knowledge to his benefit anymore, he will pass it on to the next generation of young men looking to woo girls at weddings. And this is exactly what he did, ably assisted by me (the woman’s perspective I was).

Thus the only 2 bachelors in our squadron were told to kindly stop hanging out with us married folk, and go spend time with the bride’s friends. At first they were, well, totally sissy about it (apparently they were extremely fearful of getting slapped) and it took a lot of glares and head jerks in the right direction for them to even be within 3 feet of the girls.

And then a window of opportunity opened. One of the girls went all the way to one end of the ground, and sat by herself looking at some annoying kids play. Now, as a girl myself, I knew this was a cry (demand) for attention and was probably the best time for any guy to make his move. And this is exactly what we told one of our young bucks. Not entirely convinced with our reasoning, he nevertheless took a deep breath and did what we told him to, and 15 minutes later came back grinning and thanking me! Apparently the girl wanted to see the city, this being her first visit here and he offered to take her around.

This was it. This was all the encouragement the Fellow and his friend needed to pass on their years of experience forward, and for the next 30 mins, gave this young chap tip after tip after tip. They had so much to say that the poor recipient finally asked them to pen all of it down. And I don’t blame him. From celebrating his birthday one day before the girl left (and 5 months before his real birthday) to convincing her he had dinner coupons to the Taj (and then arranging the payment with the management), they had quick tips for everything!! They even told him the kind of car/bike he should take. And the icing on cake was, that the Fellow being his senior officer got him the next day off so that he could take the girl out!!

Yesterday the Fellow came back home looking all triumphant. The girl has postponed her return journey and will be spending a few days more here.

I now plan on writing a book on all the tips and gyan the Fellow and his friend have accumulated over the years, on how to pick up girls at weddings and other social situations. All I need now, is a catchy title.

Carton-full

The Fellow and I decided to go to a second-hand bookstore today.

There is something about piles and mounds of books that make me happy. It doesn’t matter that there is an inch of dust over everything (never good for my insane allergies), or that I have to look through hundreds of books to find one or two worth buying. Just being there makes me more than a little happy. And when I come across a book or a comic that I had read as a child (and never seen ever since), there is no stopping me from jumping around all gleeful. And then I stick it under the Fellow’s nose, and insist he read it and get appropriately excited. Finally, after several hours of browsing, excited squeals, careful pondering and monosyllabic conversations, I stand before a huge pile of books which I’ve finalised, and look at the Fellow (with as innocent a look as possible) for his reaction to my low willpower.

At times like these I’m really glad the Fellow is also a book-worm. This way he is able to understand my lack of self-control and overall happiness when I’m around books.

For now, we have a carton full of books, and several more days of holiday left. Yay.

Moving Day

And in other news, the Fellow (and by association I) tried to set a new record of sorts, at least in the circles we move in. We moved house, every last bit we owned, in less than 7 hours. 7 hours of going back and forth between the old and new place, of wondering how the hell we had so much stuff to move, and panicking (that would be me) about how in the world I was going to get all of it set up again. Oh and 7 hours of getting fully exhausted and layered in several inches of dust, grime and a few random spiders.

Of course, when I say that we’ve moved house it’s a slight exaggeration on my tired part. It was actually more like dumping all the stuff in the new space, over every surface available, and then spending the next day going through bags and bundles looking for random stuff (including a tiny bottle of nail polish remover and the bag that has the Fellow’s precious PS2 games). I also spent considerable time standing in the middle of the mess, looking around and sighing loudly. And since that got quite depressing and stressful (obviously), I tried to make myself feel good by imagining everything in its place and deciding where all the photographs and paintings would go. Not a good idea. Got more depressed thinking of all the work I still had to do. Sigh.

And then instead of being responsible and setting house and all that, the Fellow and I take off for another 10 days (enjoying the last of the Fellow’s leave this year), merrily leaving everything behind. I don’t know what we’re thinking. Well, actually the Fellow is thinking he gets to soup up his car some more. And I’m really hoping elves exist to help the desperate outside of fairy tales.

About Food

Earlier today, as the Fellow and I dug into some absolutely yummy Chinese soup (his stuffed with chicken), I suddenly realised that our daily trips to the Mall are only about the food. Right from fresh from the oil french fries, piping hot tomato soup by the glass, subs, burgers, chicken/mutton momos, chocolate pastries and some of the best Chinese food I’ve had, it’s all about the food.

Right from the moment we step on to the mall, we start (in our own ways) thinking about what to eat/drink today. For obvious reasons of the shop being the closest on our path, we start with the french fries and tomato soup. Hot soup (with croutons) on a cold day is divine I tell you. And even better are fresh fries. I think the chappie behind the counter now recognises us. Much like the waiter at this small Chinese joint there.

I mean, if we visit a place 3 times in 5 days, eat like we’ve never been fed before, and take home an equal (and usually more) amount of food, the chances that we will be remembered are quite high right? But the food is so good!! Even the Fellow agrees (of course, that’s probably because the chicken portions are super-good and all that).

And so, when we leave Shimla and go back to the land of dal-baati, the one thing we shall miss the most (apart from home and all the pampering) is the food trips we made to the Mall everyday.

Time for Another Countdown

I haven’t posted anything for 10 days now, and after writing everyday for 112 days, I feel a little guilty. But I have good reason (actually reasons) for being rude to the few readers I have and my blog – I’ve been making memories and soaking up experiences like never before (I’m also trying my hand at being a little more poetic).

To begin with, I’m revelling in the fact that I’m in Shimla with the Fellow. It just seems a nicer place with him. A lot of it has to do with the fact that wherever we go, he has a story to tell– where he bunked school and ate parathas (and then went to check out the local chicas), where he went to eat strawberries and stuff tiffins with them too, the route he took to school (when he went), where the best momos are available, where he played video games etc.

Then there is the cold – and my constant efforts to deal with it. Thankfully even the locals are feeling it, and so I can complain without hurting my pride (not that it mattered really). The only concession I’ve made is that I’m not adding gloves to my outfit of a sweater (and a heavy coat), muffler and ear guards. The gloves will make me a sissy you see. The rest of it is just cool winter fashion!

Oh, and there was a three day trip into the interiors of Himachal Pradesh. The trip can be summarised into a few words - a wooden house, apple orchards, pine forest covered mountains, snow covered peaks, brooks, winding roads, slate roofs, leaves changing colour, cool breezes and the warm sun. Sigh. Even my city girl soul was moved (something the Fellow had given up on). Of course, this trip needs a post of its own, but I guess that will be only photos (I obviously went click happy…how could I not right?)

For now, I’m planning on a countdown to the new year…or at least my first wedding anniversary. Anything to give me a purpose on this blog again.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!

Winter is here. And no where is it more obvious than Shimla. Everywhere you go people are bundled up in various layers of clothing (I was in 4 layers today). In fact I haven’t seen as much variety in woollen wear as I have in the last 2 days walking about Mall road. There is everything from monkey caps (mostly Bengali tourists), mufflers and sweaters to cool leather jackets and fancy woollen ponchos.

And then there is me. My city-grown heart (according to the Fellow), doesn’t know that it has to pump blood to my extremities. Thus my hands and feet (and nose) remain close to freezing all the time. This is not only super-uncomfortable for me, but also for the Fellow. After all it’s him I turn to when I need my hands and feet warmed. In fact, people on the Mall often think we’re a honeymooning couple, seeing as we’re always holding hands. Little do they know that there is absolutely no romance involved in the act – only survival (and a lot of begging. The Fellow refuses to hold my freezing hands. Hmph).

Of course, since I’m not all pessimism, I do have a silver lining here. Winter fashions. I finally get to wear gorgeous coats and pullovers and mufflers and even ear muffs (the practical, non-gorgeous kind). After living in Bombay for ever and only ever knowing Monsoon fashions, it’s a delight (and quite exciting) to buy winter clothing and not feel guilty about it. Makes the girly me quite happy I tell you.

Road Tripping

1 Car.

2 travellers.

3 days.

4 states.

The Fellow and I took our very first road trip together last week, and drove nearly a 1000 km across north India to make it home for Diwali. And we made it just in time, driving into the city as the first stars appeared in the skies and diyas and candles down below.

Over 3 days, the Fellow and I made it from the desert to the mountains. And though I was hesitant to begin with (what with being severely motion sick and all), I’m glad we didn’t take the train like we originally planned. For starters, I got to see more of small town India in one trip than I had ever before. Second I learnt that I can be drugged up to my ears with anti-motion sick medication and stay awake. And finally, I got to spend concentrated time with the Fellow after a really long time. Yay.

I can now finally appreciate road trips and all the hoopla surrounding them. I mean, just the bright and colourful truck art makes the effort worthwhile. And then there is always the possibility that you will come across an insight into India and its people which make for excellent photo opportunities.

And now, instead of going on and on about how we listened to one CD over and over again, all the junk food piled in the car, the chocolate I consumed, the book I read (aloud, in the manner of an audio-book), the songs we sung in a terribly off-key fashion, the morons who are aloud to drive and who are on a suicide mission, the idiots who put speed brakers on an otherwise excellent highway, the flat tires we had etc, I’m just going to put some pictures up from the road trip.

All photographs are copyrighted.