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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. 

Thursday, 16 August 2012

Right now, at this moment I am missing Kolkata so much that I feel like taking the next flight home. except that I can't. I can't even afford a decent looking rain proof choppol to wear to office; the ones I have are torn beyond repair. I am painfully hobble my way to work everyday. I am digressing. 

When I left I had no intentions of returning ever. Only a few weeks back I was actually contemplating going back. not because I have outgrown this city. Because I wanted to prepare for masters et al.

One taxi ride through my favorite part of Worli on a rainy afternoon and I realized it'd be a cold day in hell before I leave this city so soon. More on that, later.

But right now, at this moment, I want to go home. where no one will laugh at my gender-confused, south-Calcutta Bangla accented Hindi. 

Not that it matters much. The being-laughed-at bit. But still. I wanna go home and sleep. 

Meanwhile, good days ahead. 

That's my work table. It is generally not this messy. That yellow cup is my favorite. I love drinking my hot chocolate out of it everyday. One day I didn't find it in the pantry and actually bugged Banwariji to no end before he found another one from the messy confused assortment of pots, pans, plates, cups that is the pantry. It seems I have some form of OCD they haven't come up with a name for yet. I googled and none of the types mentioned fit. 

P.S; I really like to draw people's attention to unimportant details.

P.P.S; I’m going for Iftar celebration tomorrow.