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Monday, 29 October 2012

If we compare the achievements of the week...

My friend S
Gave birth to a beautiful baby boy Aarav.

Yours Truly
Cleaned room.
Brushed hair 100 times for 4 days straight.
Did not withdraw money from ATM.
Went to bed at 11 for 4 days straight.  

....then in pure numbers I am still winning.

Monday, 1 October 2012

"...No time for losers 'Cause we are the champions - of the world...."

So the officially-most-fucked-up-week-I've-had-this-year came to an end with two retards I have for friends coming over with fruits (err...because I was sick and all that), me dropping an entire handi full of scalding hot milk all over my hand and tummy and four of us (including roommate) playing a particularly savage and seemingly never-ending game of UNO (two decks of cards and everyone screwing with each other; that’s the trick) over butter chicken and Maharashtriyan style cooked minty biryani.  

I survived. And in exactly 18 days I am headed home for pujo. :-) 

P.S: My reaction after kicking ass at UNO.  

Friday, 28 September 2012

In one week I have  

i.              come down with fever
ii.            blacked out thrice and fainted twice
iii.           uprooted my toe nail and kept bleeding till I slept off and the blood coagulated sealing the wound. Something like that.
iv.           blacked out in the washroom and fallen on my ass twice and almost sprained my ankle
v.             suffered from extreme dizziness and nausea caused by extremely low blood pressure
vi.           been scratched by a mad woman in the local
vii.          narrowly escaped getting stung by a scorpion
viii.         gotten into two huge fights with one friend
ix.           watched people cope with bad breakup induced depression
x.            struggled to find words to comfort a nineteen year old broken heart while remembering a time when I was nineteen and heartbreaks were a dime a dozen and always swept under the rug lest people found out and laughed   
xi.           watched a friend deal with brain tumor and homophobic parents while doing little more than standing back and well, offering some well-meant, but clichéd and tired words of comfort over the phone from office at 10 in the night
xii.         lived on only cold soggy Maggi and Dunhill Switch
xiii.        met parents splitting up with kids left to deal with the situation on their own
xiv.        argued with roommate who came down with viral trying to get her to do the whole steam-Vicks-Crocin thing  
xv.          dealt with clients making your life look like a ppt on How-to-spot-the-workaholic
xvi.        realized my father is growing old and I have not seen him in seven months and that these days the only words I speak to him are “Had dinner? Yeah even I had. Going to sleep now. Good night.” while struggling with a broken umbrella in Lower Parel station
xvii.       spoken to journalists abusing me in a language I do not speak and hence could not salvage the situation
xviii.      effectively ended a not-so-long but very intense friendship and did not have the time to give a fuck about it
xix.        realized one never really completely stops being sixteen; one simply learns to ignore and never talk about it
xx.         cried only once when Gandalf the Grey fell into the abyss in the Mines of Moria

I think I wanna go to Israel now. 

Monday, 24 September 2012

I just realized...

...I don’t like weekends much. I mean people crave for weekends. Even I do. Sitting in office till late at night slumming it out over reports that can bring dead people back and kill them all over again out of sheer boredom, all I crave for is glorious weekend when I can get an extra hour of well-deserved shuteye before the bai comes at an ungodly hour and wakes us all up with Didi Rin sabun khatam ho gaya in such an injured voice that you almost feel sorry. For her. Self pity comes later on Sunday night.

But I digress.

Yes so I realized I dislike weekends. You see on a normal office-going weekday I have to wake up at 7, take a shower, make breakfast, eat it, make my bed, iron clothes, deal with bai-garbagewallah issues and I am out by 8.30 sharp. Even though it sounds boring and mundane and I complain about it, I like it. (I complain because you know, complaining is so much fun, sometimes.) This routine, this is almost like a comfortable space. It is predictable, safe, comfortable. The nice kind of predictable, if you know what I mean. 

You know it can’t go wrong. You shower on time, you eat all your meals, you get enough sleep (actually *I* don’t but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here), you are never late for work etc.

But weekends? Bah. Your Saturday morning goes in catching up on those lost sleep time. You wake up at 7 (because of aforementioned bai), get up at 11.30 feeling like a dump because you haven’t showered or eaten any breakfast. Then you are too lazy to shower and fix something you call lunch and your mother shudders at (read: cold, soggy Maggi/cereals) and eat. Your face looks all puffy and you have bags under your eyes. Your hair looks like vegetable. By 2.30 your head starts hurting again and you feel woozy because either you have had too much sleep or not. If you have a non-existent social life you stay at home and try to read/smoke/watch something on your laptop but you can’t because that head-throb has turned pretty bad by now and you feel tired and listless. But you cannot go back to sleep because hey it’s Saturday and it’s a weekend and you are supposed to do things you don’t get to do on normal weekdays-like staying up really late reading/watching something/talking to people and by the time you do manage to crawl to bed (or in my case, slump onto the sofa with the laptop on my tummy almost burning my flesh) your eyes burn like hell.

Sundays are even worse. I mean, it is like Saturday only but somehow it gets worse because probably you have been doing the whole getting-up-late-not-eating-not-showering-nursing-headache thing all over again but it’s been two days in a row and by Sunday evening you get that ‘what am I doing with my life?’ feeling.

And if, you are this social animal/person who really enjoys a healthy number of nightouts every month/person who hates or sucks at socializing but will because someone told him to get a life, you will go out on a Friday night which means you will spend your Saturday morning at a friend’s place feeling that horrible feeling you get when you really just want to get some sleep at your own place but you can’t. Then you drag yourself home and do the whole not-showering-not eating thing again because you feel sick and sleep-deprived. Then god forbid, if you again go out on a Saturday night you wake up with an alcohol induced temporary blindness/blackout/something to that effect on a Sunday morning. And because pretty much everyone around you is in the same or much worse state of inebriation, you don’t get the motivation to get up, shower, eat and sleep like a human being who wants to live to see his/her grandchildren.

See the problem? You get no rest, something you have been pining for the whole week. You don’t get to eat because, well, I just explained why so please scroll up and read. Your whole weekend is a haze where even your existing bank balance on a Sunday evening does not make you jerk into consciousness. And basically pretty much all you think all this while is…well…yes the same old ’what am I doing with my life?’.

I don’t know. Don’t get all judgmental. I have tried reading on weekends but the headache gets so worse and I feel so distracted all the time that all I manage to do is keep reading one line almost thrice before I realize I am doing that thing where I read one line thrice because I am plain distracted. I have tried getting some sleep but even that doesn’t help much. I have lied to people who want me to attend their parties that I have other plans just to stay home but even that doesn’t help. (I am sorry and I love you all even though I really don’t understand why some of you are still friends with me because you clearly see I am lying and I don’t wanna come to your party) Because even at home I feel listless. I make it a point to not check my mail or go online even once during the weekend.  I never ever make any plan unless it involves me and only me going to a bookshop and reading quietly, not taking calls, not replying to text messages or anything. But I don’t even have the energy for that kind of thing these days.

And now with all the religious frenzy the good people of Dadar have worked themselves into for Ganpati (accompanied by loud beating of the dhol and the loud singing of bhajans as if their life depended on it), sleep is a distant never-to-be-fulfilled dream.

Don’t get me wrong. I am all for festive euphoria and shor sharaba during festivals. I mean, hell, I come from a place where during pujo we shut down offices, banks, schools, colleges, maybe even hospitals and police stations going by the spiraling crime rate at that I am no one to judge. But you do get my predicament now, right? RIGHT?

I should stop whining and go beat up whoever gave me that stupid crap about my life being too predictable and the importance of going out there and doing something and feeling upbeat all the time. I want my weekdays. I want my meals on time, regularly taken showers and everything.  I want my routine. I crave for my routine.

Now go. Go start judging right away. I won’t hold that against you. 

Friday, 21 September 2012

I just realized I like doing tags. No really.

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:

Right ankle, fell on the floor from a desk which then fell on my ankle

2. What is on the walls in your room?

Posters. Paintings (ahem) by roommate and yours truly.

3. What does your phone look like?

The metal casing is chipped in places. The screen is scratched.

4. What music do you listen to?

Anything. Well not really, but I am too lazy to elaborate

5. What is your current desktop picture?

Benedict Cumberbatch in and as Sherlock with a violin

6. What do you want more than anything right now?

Go home for Durga puja, earn more, go to Israel.

7. What are you listening to?
Some electronic music (I think it is called EDM) being played on co-worker’s computer.

8. The last person to make you cry?

Last time I cried it was because a friend was sick. No one made me cry per se.
9. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

No such things as favorite yet

10. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

Meat. Fish. Alu posto. Pasta from Mumbai Deli. Salad. Roast chicken from Piccadilly.

11. Who was the last person you made mad?

I don’t remember. No really. I don’t remember the last time I cared enough to get mad at someone.

Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Today someone I once used to be very pally with randomly pinged me on Facebook. Normally I do not bother to reply to Facebook chat messages (or text messages, mails, missed calls….and now I seriously wonder how I still have people in my life who I call ‘friends’. But I digress.). But this is someone I had once decided to share an apartment with and we bonded big time over our futile attempts at house-hunting in town (err…not so much of a rookie mistake this time as a stubbornness to accept our church mouse poor state and a desperate attempt to not leave town and move to *shudders* Sion.).

But the moving in together bit did not happen since we disagreed over rent, location and logistical issues (she refused to leave town; I realized I cannot afford it etc etc.). And I chose to stay in this suffocating, minor claustrophobia-inducing, plastered-with-saffron-political-posters-propagating-distrust-of-the-north-Indian-immigrant-influx-in-this-city, cacophonous crowded urban hell hole called Dadar (which, btw I like. Call me mental but I like Dadar.)

We had a minor argument. And then we stopped talking. Or rather I stopped all forms of communication with her because I have the attention span of a 2 year old and very very limited capacity of caring.

Today she pinged me out of the blue and I was pleasantly surprised to note that the old camaraderie which I thought had effectively died that one unpleasant evening was still intact. I was happy. And immensely sad. And it is not my neurosis speaking.

It sucks to know a person your age does not hold back grudges and can sort out past issues (however trivial they may be/sound to an outsider...which in this case is you dear non-existent reader) and you cannot. It sucks to know there’s someone your age who does believe in getting in touch with people he/she once fell out with and all you do is cut people loose from your life if things do not go your way.

 It sucks to know you are not one of them.

Thursday, 30 August 2012

Where I bore you with boring snippets of my life.

A non-functioning internet connection in office is a cause for much celebration right? Even if work shit has hit the ceiling?

That’s precisely what people are doing. Some are working from home (read: sleeping); some had gone to Phoenix and in all probability are not coming back, (same goes for the internet connection methinks) and the ones who stayed back are either huddled near the tv watching the coverage of the aftermath of SC verdict on Kasab’s death sentence or playing Angry Birds. My friend G is so frustrated that he cannot clear some level 10 thingy (I have never played this game in my life.) that he keeps muttering some really choicest cusswords. Once he banged the table in sheer frustration and the coffee spilled out of the cup and fell on my white kurta. Bleddy.

(Again, I have never played this game in my life so I wouldn't know what it entails or whether lives are at stake here or something but YOU DON'T SPILL COFFEE ON MY WHITE KURTA and then hold a grudge against me for smacking you.)

But I am in no shape to celebrate. I am ill with food poisoning. Yesterday some people were making fun of my pudina goli dabba (best 60 bucks every spent) and then queued up to help themselves to it. I counted that as bad karma for them and wished them all food poisoning. Sometimes the universe gets a kick out of screwing with me. Now I can't even hold that against the universe and wish something bad lest I come down with flu or something now. Bleddy bleddy bleddy. 

And Dear Google Chrome,

Pliss to explain how is the page below in Malay? Are you a retard? Or have I finally gone blind?

P.S: I should stop obsessing over petty things and get a life. I just spent 10 minutes cribbing to someone (with an equally sad life, pliss to note dear readers, I am not the only one out there) that G has spilt coffee on my white kurta and there’s an ugly brown shapeless stain on it and my perpetually cranky bai will simply refuse to wash it. I am ashamed. Really.