The wait

She subconsciously peered at the mirror that hung all over the plush, suave, white-dominated office. The A/C rhythmically hummed in the background. She tugged at her chignon deciding that it gave her too much of a corporate woman look. Her shiny copper coloured mane swiftly tumbled down her back. She once again consulted the mirror- her crisp off-white shirt and her knee-length maroon coloured skirt; complimented her skin as well as her hair colour.She was finally content.

She clutched at her leather portfolio while her lustrous eyes sought the digital clock silently gulping each minute. She'd been waiting for over two hours now. Biting nails is a dead give-away that you are nervous - she scolded herself grimly. She closed her eyes and lived her dream once again... of being on the top of the world... of reaching dizzying heights... of fame, fortune and goodwill.

'Miss, you are next' came a pleasant music-like instruction. After all it marked the end of her unending wait.

Once in, within 15 minutes, she was convinced that her step had faltered somewhere... that she wasn't going to make it where she wanted to reach... that her dream was but another dream... when the voice in front of her boomed "But, of course... each one makes many compromises during their course of life- whether they like it or not"

And she knew - her wait had just begun!

Bad Girls? Good Girls?

Almost after 7 decades does Archie choose his life partner - Veronica - only to be debated worldwide if his choice has brought more disappointment to Betty or was our freckle-face right in his own terms to blatantly ignore her efforts to make herself "noticed". Whatever the case, it's for sure he's strutting down the aisle with Ms. Lodge. What caught my attention today was a glossy newspaper article that was glorifying Veronicas around the world and more so, the men who kiss their sexily pedicured feet. Seemingly, "bad girls" are the flavour of the season and the "good girls" are as good as obsolete.


I was wondering how true is this paradigm shift? In India? Where the Times Matrimonial has the same standards set for brides "Tall, fair, beautiful, homely". Where the first three qualities are attainable using the money power, I remain skeptical for the 'homely' part. Aren't these THTHHMFs (Too Hot To Handle High Maintenance Females) supposed to be preoccupied about their Maybellines and Chanels and Jimmy Choos and Diors?

My this post wrt those proper bratty, spoilt, rich Veronicas, who wouldn't bat their eyelids if it spells work and average Indian working males, a little better than Prince Andrews.

With egos bigger than their bank balance, these self-indulgent PYTs need men to accessorize them, or so are we made to believe. Ronnie does that, doesn't she? Are men ready to be walked all over by ladies in stilts? Would any self-respecting guy do an Archie, always? - Be at Her Highness' beck and call? I think not. Moreover, "she has him wrapped around her pinky" or even "he dances to her tunes" though humorous are looked upon as derogatory statements.

Surrendering to the charm and sophistication of THTHHMFs would be a short term thing. But keeping the modern day Cleopatra up on the pedestal for the whole lifetime and worshipping her? Sheer utopia! Their "catch me if you can" appeal is lost as soon as caught. But who catches them? Fluttering butterflies are to be admired from a distance. Fantasy items, yes... but your partner for life? a mother to your kids? a support system for the lifetime lows? That's what a guy would look for in his better half and v.v.

No one likes "a hen-pecked husband", not even THTHHMFs... at least they don't want them labelled as one; regardless of the verity. THTHHMFs have their equivalent THTHHMMs (Too Hot To Handle High Maintenance Males) to look after their constant upgradation. Money talks, money rocks!

As per the article "Today, men are opting for bad gals too. They want a dominating partner who lives by her own rules" - guys, lemme know, how true is this?

Curiosity - hasn't killed us - yet!

N! What much to say about her. Half of Singapore thinks we are blood-related sisters, where infact we are sistaars-in-loh. And then they have the whole relation between me, V n N jumbled up. They think V's my husband, N's my sister....V my brother-in-law, N my mother(!!!!) and wot-not.... anyways, thats not what I'm gonna talk about here.

Its me n N, who have worked hard enough for people to get our relations wrongly wired. We bitch, gossip, laugh at the most inappropriate times, chatter, keep a look out for sales, exchange Tees, look for confirmation at each other that we are NOT fat... and many more things. And the biggest thing between us is we cannot keep our mouths shut from each other. What happens here has to reach there and v.v. So here's what happens in most cases. Psssst, did I mention she craves for madness as much as I do?


'u callin me piggie? :' started N

'when i called u piigie? :O'

'see last sentence hahahahahaa aaaaaaaaaaahaha'

'arre i closed thwe window... copy paste'

'oh...u said suar....boo hoo'

'HAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAA that is "sure" in rustic way'

' "tell them to check... suar"
yeah...ahahaha .... ask me tmrw menu re

'what tom'

'che che'

'i'm gng to blog this'

'haplease'

'yes yes edited version'

'no no'

'muhahahaha'

'i am signin off then'

'whatever we talked u'll see'

' ok allright' *Thus me gets the unwanted permission*

'tell S, his marriage Jevan was excellent...yesterday his amma had called'

'okies...what said'

'nothing they came bk to old house since new house furniture happening....but will be shiftin there n renting old house'

'gud gud...i gotta tell u yahan ki kahani....but will wait till nxt weekend'

'abt who what ..tell tell...gimme a hint'

'my pota puggid* with it already' *For non-Konks, it means I'm dying to tell this/ I'm dying to know.*

'S and wife'

':O Already??? tell tell no plis plis'

'yeah... talked 5 hrs with her on fone in 2 days'

'who?'

' me and J'

':O what u talked soooo much?'

'u know She is june 82.... only 1.5yrs elder...'

' :O big big'

'N... TALKED ABOUT S... FMLY AND EVERYTHIN HAPPENIN HERE RIGHT NOW'

'WHY EVERYTHING IN CAPS???.....SOMETHING SCANDALOUS?'

'by mistake'

'sheessh.....i was expecting....scandalous newses'

'S is dumber by the day ...i almost feel like wriniging his neck tmrw'

'Don't don't'

'dont blog this ok'

'he's just married think abt J
hehe i will
names will be hidden'

'uska sochke i feel like wringing'

' u see how i edit stuff'

'got loads to tell man...'

'you have Nm and Sb email id...i gotta share it via email'

' yup...what what
what what'

'pics of j n b'

'what what j n b?'

'jandoo n bagga'

'oh my...'

No, it didn't just end there. There was more, lots more infact. We are a pair of curious cats. :)

Frendz m'am?

All of you know Orkut, right? All of you also know *specially gurls* what kind of friendship requests we get? Taking a peak into some of the award-winning requests I got and the replies I'd have loved to give if I'd permitted myself to a little nastiness. Promise, I ain't making them up. I save them into my Gmail draft section. *I've hell lot of time to kill*

And so....

The II Runner-up:

he ihwana be friend?hhm wat u say?hmmm
A. hmmmmm...hmmmmmm ......hhhhhmmmmmmm....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!


The I Runner-up:

Hi, I am SB from Mumbai - Peddar Road, as of now you don’t know me, I have send a Friends request to you long back, but dint hear from you, so thought let me give a small Intro about my self….So I am S - Born and brought up in Mumbai, after traveling across the entire world on various International Assignments, right now based in Pune, as Regional Head of an MNC for West India, just moved to Pune some 2 Months back..So that about me mam. So that’s a small description of me, now can we be friends mam !!!

A. uhhh... is this your introduction for a matrimonial site? If it is, I'll say, no girl in her senses will not NOT laugh at such puke-able English of yours. Get yourself a tutor first and call her Ma'am!


The Winner: *Request*

HELLO THIS IS XXXXXX FRM GUJARAT (KUTCH) I AM 36 YRS OLD AND MARRIED I AM BUSINESS MEN I M VERY MUCH

A. I ain't deaf... so please DO NOT SHOUT! You are 36(!!!!!!!) yrs, OLD AND MARRIED! How should that interest me? There's one thing though, that catches my fancy : You are plural?? and rightly said, you do a lot of much-much. Excooz me!


The Winner : *Reply*

hiiiiii, this iss Rahul.....naam toh suna hoga. add me plaese!

(All the shreya goes to Rayshma for the following brilliant come back)

A. yeah.. there are millions of you!
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Despos, really! How they make us giddy with giggles! :P

My Space

Though I come off as an extroverted person through my blog, Orkut, Fb, G-chats etc.; I've a space around me that I fiercely want to defend; physically or otherwise too. I've my pet peeves which may seem preposterous to some, but nonetheless, the territory around me, I keep safeguarded. I'm a privacy-lover.

• I cannot share-read a book/ magazine/ newspaper. Either I read it or you do. But we both can't at the same time. Not even if you want to just read one line. I prefer and always do, hand it out to you and read it later than read it with you. It is always me and my reading material and no one in between.
• I detest people who stand too close while speaking to me. Personally I maintain a one-hand-distance between myself and the person I'm talking to, unless we are walking side by side. I tend to move a step backwards if anyone treads that space. And usually, that conversation ends up motional if seen in fast forward.
• Similarly, I cannot tolerate if someone touches me frequently while talking. Like backslapping, pushing, poking...My cousins, specially brothers, know how well my reflex actions land on their upper arms. Generally, I stand with my hands cross-folded, which is seen as an aggressive or rather a defensive posture. I sub-consiously follow this. Neither am I too touchy-feely. Hugs repel me big time. Even though some friends believe in religious hugs when met after a hiatus, I try to finish it off within 2 seconds. I'd rather let my gift of gab take over to comminicate the 'I-missed-you' process.
• I need some time during the day to brood. It's my 'don't talk to me unless I talk to you' time. They may not be fruitful or sensible contemplations. Nevertheless I appreciate the time I get to reflect on my past-present-future, regardless of the depth of my thoughts. If I don't get that time, I catch it up while I go to sleep. I will not fall asleep unless and until I make peace with myself.
• While blogging too, I see to it that I have complete privacy. I will adamantly not write when someone's around. I close the door when I'm blogging. And if someone does enter, I minimize the page. Dunno why! After all, once the post is published, it is open for the whole world to read, isn't it? Silly!
• I feel jittery when my cell is not with me and is with someone else. My sent/ received messages are as yawn-able as HI's and Hello's. Still it makes me uncomfortable if the cell is anywhere except my hand or pocket. Also, I always, ALWAYS, keep it on silent no matter where I am. Attributing this trait to two things here : my utter hatred towards my cell emitting sounds (sweeter of the sweetest ringtones are a noise for me) and the fact that I don't like the world to know I've had a call or a message unless I want to make it known. My parents have rebuked me so many times for this, yet I take no notice. Stubborn-ness!
• If I have to answer a call, I go to another room and then speak. I am unable to concentrate with people staring my face searching for hints/ expressions. Be it anyone. In unavoidable situations where I have to talk in front of full audience, I resort to monosyllables and get back to them as soon as I'm alone.
• You HAVE TO ask for MY permission to use MY things. Specially, my footwear! I fly into silent rage if that doesn't happen. I don't care if our shoe sizes match or it looks better on you than on me. I go super mad if people think what I own is what they can rightfully call their own. Exceptions in some cases, but majority rests. It isn't that I don't know/ want to share my stuff, but personal stuff or the things that I'm sentimentally attached to, stay with me, even if it means carrying a tag of selfishness. My funda : If you can be shameless, I can be shamless + selfish + rude.
• If something bugs me, you know something is bugging me, but you'll never know what. I hold my issues close to me. They are for me to sort and no one. Insecurity rules me when it comes to my problems.
• My acceptances are verbal and my rejections are silent. So if you ask me anything and I don't reply it is not to be taken as I accepted it w/o a battle. It means quite the opposite. The choice to remain silent is because I don't want to unnecessarily be rude or mean. I reserve my comments only when they are negative.

Does that make me difficult?

A Million years in a bank

Banking and Finance has never been my favorite subject during college times. No wonder why it explains my passing chits during those lectures instead of taking down notes. And this unfavoritism has continued even after college. I hate going to banks for any job.



I'd to unwillingly go to SBI near my place to submit an application for a duplicate PPF Pass book. I was directed towards a lady who was supposed to tell me what I was to do with the letter hanging in my hand and a blank expression on my face. Anyways, as soon as I calmly narrated her the purpose of my heart-rendering visit to her; she looked at me as if I've just told her my plans of eloping with her 10 yr old son. She blinked - twice exactly - and said "How did you misplace the passbook?" I couldn't draw a blanker face. If I knew I was going to misplace it, I wouldn't have misplaced it, no?


Fortunately, after she lectured me how important the passbook was, and how thankfully they had relented and let me get off without having to lodge a police complaint (which was otherwise the procedure), did she find it the right time to tell me that I was to give the PAN Card xerox too which would put an end to my miseries.

The xerox did not speeden up things. I was made to run from pillar to post first to "get The Madam's signature" on the application, then to show it to the PPF section handling lady who gave me a challan which said I was to pay Rs. 110 as the charges, then again get the challan signed by "The Madam" and finally deposit the money at one of their counters where the queue was never-ending. And there I was waiting, waiting, waiting...... waiting, waiting,.... and some more waiting, waiting in a long queue that was moving at a snail's pace... all this amidst the stench of all kinds of oils - *not aromatic essential oils - sarson, badam, coconut, palm, sunflower* - you name it and it was stinking from those black, slicky hairs of those uncountable heads. *And to think of it my mom usually asks me why I have to bathe in my deo!!* Each of them armed with a zhatak cell phone having nails-on-blackboard-ish aggressive ringtones that were ringing from every corner. To please my eyes, I pulled out my W580i; which at the moment had one little red network bar and screamed "Emrgcy calls only"... WTH!!!! Just when I needed to call back home to say I'd have to stay here a little(?) longer.

I was roasting in the line wearing a sweat-shirt, holding the extra xerox copies in one hand, the challan and the money in another and also trying to call home with my spare fingers, shouldering a nasty purse, trying to breath despite the oil-slick air pollution, cursing the slow-pokes under my breathe and swearing that I'll definitely blog this.

It did not get any easier after I'd paid though. When I asked the ancient uncle the estimated time period in which I can come and disturb their peace by making an appearance to collect the duplicate passbook, he said I'll have to ask the PPF lady. I was back to where I'd started; the PPF lady, who at the moment was busy crooning over to another lady. She did not glance up, but she acknowledged my presence by muttering a "ek minute haan". She wasn't bothered that I'd almost died of asphyxiation waiting at the line neither was she excited that I'd to almost nudge my way from the ancient uncle to her with or without "excuse me"s, she wanted to seem important and that's what she did. As it is, I was at their mercy.

"Come and check in 2-3 days" she sang; after what seemed like a million years and just when my sensory organ of smell was getting accustomed to that oily stench.

Relieved!

I've had a long day today. My eyes are dangerously threatening shut, yet I want to write about this. Because today I'm really relieved.

Without getting into the intimate details - During the recent Mumbai trip my dad had some uneasiness to deal with and so our family doctor suggested we get all the scary sounding tests done. He said it was gastric trouble but also hinted that it could be a cardiac problem. And my dad being my dad procrastinated under the excuse of "too much work". Anyways, past week we got the ECG, blood test, cholesterol done and today was the day to get the Stress test done which would determine whether the doctor's predictions were true.

Came to know that "THE REPORTS ARE ALL NORMAL"
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Almost for a fortnight I've been living in this nightmare that something was wrong with my dad. Heart disease...that's like real scary. I've seen it happen to others...but my dad?! I couldn't believe it and neither did I want to accept it. Sure, I did not make a show and made a brave attempt to hide my fears. But nights haunted me and I partly did not want my dad to get the tests done for the fear that they may confirm what the doc had just warned us about.

I just realised throughout this whole course, that I still need my parents. I can fight with them, disagree to a great extent, complain that they don't understand what I want to say, feel they are a tad too strict, but I still need them... I don't ever want to take care of them, because I want them to take care of me forever! I don't want to be a grown-up who looks after her parents... I want to be the kid that still craves for parental attention and care even when I was 5, or 15 and even when I'll be 50.

They have been pillars of support for me. They haven't necessarily petted me every time I was low. They've scolded me for being docile,coming home late, being intolerant, or just being careless. Even with all that I have seen them stay staunchly by my side, give me the courage to do what I thought I was incapable of doing. They've been my concrete and my cushion. So, I cannot see them crumbling - health wise, emotionally....

Where on one hand my mom worships tolerance, my dad cannot stand injustice... Dad will always speak his mind and won't care what the other thinks; mom will keep to herself rather than hurt anyone. Such a blend of qualities I get to see in this one home...and so many things to learn from my parents.... I think I haven't even learnt 10 % of what they have got to teach. I need them till I get to that 100. I really do.

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Thus, today when the doc announced that everything was normal and no treatment/ medicines were required; I felt a huge wave of relief sweep over me...and life, suddenly came back to normal.