Suddenly I don’t like Mumbai. Everything that was getting eventually endearing about this place seems to have slowly faded. Life at the local train stations don’t interest me anymore. There is no more a wide-eyed wonder about the expanse of the sea. No more do I venture out to Colaba to shop on my own. Streets remind me of my friends who came and went – the places I haunted with them – Bottles of beer at Mondy’s, burnt fish at Martins, huge amounts of prawn fry at Leopolds, a walk staring at the large mansions at Bandstand, a stroll along Marine Drive – Mumbai has lost its charm – no more do I wish to stay here.
Ips went away – a stable rock solid support was gone. Jai flew off – my school mate was gone. Pix left – my best friend and most comforting factor disappeared. Ktik followed – confidential talks and random dinners flew out of the window. Niv was next in line – my favourite critic and darling friend also went. I feel so voided of late.
I cross Dadar and remember the catering college and Hard Rock. I go to the stations and imagine the tall banana-chappaled woman making her way through the crowd. I visit the book shop at Causeway and remember going there to find research books for Ips’ Phd. I cross Chembur and the days I spent with Adi comes back to me. I see a Subway and remember the two mad sub-lovers.
Very important parts of my life have left. Mumbai was a lot of what it was because of them. Each one brought me joy in a very special way. Suddenly I feel very very lonely. I don’t know if I want to stay here anymore. Suddenly there is nothing much to look forward to. And I am a “social butterfly”, aren’t I? Then how come I find it terribly difficult to make new friends?
I have a comfort zone. Part of that zone came to Mumbai, made it beautiful and left. Suddenly this city is as hollow as it once was. And I am as incomplete.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Caricature Workout
Someone called me a pretty cartoon. That is mostly because, if you have seen me, I have a big head compared to the rest of my body. So in effect, if one looks at me carefully I look pretty much like a caricature – big head, big eyes, big mouth – well, let’s say I am a caricature artist’s ideal subject. And all this started when I announced that I am going to lose weight and then I was told that in that case my body would become thinner and I would look more comical than I do now. Hmm. And so much for thinking that I was sexy and all that crap. Ah well. Sigh.
So anyway, I have decided to join a gym – for which I had gone shopping today. All this is done with the sole intention of motivating me enough to lose weight – you know how it goes…if I spend so much money on getting my goodies together for gym-ing, I will be guilt ridden enough to wake up in the morning and run to the gym – paisa vasool you see – and considering how broke I am right now, spending oodles of cash on the membership and the accessories is a big thing for me. And tomorrow I am going to buy myself a set of three ankle length socks and then draw out a cheque of almost one third of my salary towards the bi-annual gym fee. I have instructed my parents to courier me my running shoes all the way from North India for this very noble and healthy cause of mine. This is quite an event in my life.
You see, this is bigger than you think it is. I am essentially an owl by nature. I love keeping up till ungodly hours of the night and hearing the crickets sing, I read a few chapters out of some book or write some unstructured poetry, I watch an obscure film or I catch up with other nocturnal friends on the phone, I love the silence of the night and I love the sound of my voice in the silence – for me night time is my time – so consequently, I find it terribly difficult to crawl out of bed in the morning…grudgingly I open my eyelids to the morning light at 9 am and run out of the house with a sandwich in my hand at 10…such is my habit, such is my routine. So for me to take an initiative to even think about waking up at 7 for gym every morning is very very very big!
But I am determined. And I have gone and asked them how much will it cost, I have taken the pain and effort to walk into that fitness space (in which me and my flabby self feels totally out of place) and ask for the fitness instructor (who by the way is totally hot and totally indifferent)….I have figured out which membership plan I want, I have decided what time slot will suit me and will make me (hopefully) a healthier and thinner person. I seem to be so obsessed with the idea of losing weight. Part of me blames the goddamn tiny anorexic-designed dresses that are sold at Peddar road that come in from Bangkok, part of me blames the very looks oriented society we live in, part of me blames the fact that I am not fighting the system but falling into it and yet part of me blames the indifference in which I am letting myself bloat up.
Am I fat? Am I thin? Am I fit? More importantly, am I happy? And if losing a couple of kgs would make me happier then I suppose this is a good new year’s gift to give oneself. All I am hoping is that there is weight loss all over and that I don’t end up looking like a bigger caricature – or if a caricature must I be, then let me atleast be a pretty caricature.
With this hopeful note, I pen down my new years fitness resolution and validate my coupon to happiness.
*huff puff*
So anyway, I have decided to join a gym – for which I had gone shopping today. All this is done with the sole intention of motivating me enough to lose weight – you know how it goes…if I spend so much money on getting my goodies together for gym-ing, I will be guilt ridden enough to wake up in the morning and run to the gym – paisa vasool you see – and considering how broke I am right now, spending oodles of cash on the membership and the accessories is a big thing for me. And tomorrow I am going to buy myself a set of three ankle length socks and then draw out a cheque of almost one third of my salary towards the bi-annual gym fee. I have instructed my parents to courier me my running shoes all the way from North India for this very noble and healthy cause of mine. This is quite an event in my life.
You see, this is bigger than you think it is. I am essentially an owl by nature. I love keeping up till ungodly hours of the night and hearing the crickets sing, I read a few chapters out of some book or write some unstructured poetry, I watch an obscure film or I catch up with other nocturnal friends on the phone, I love the silence of the night and I love the sound of my voice in the silence – for me night time is my time – so consequently, I find it terribly difficult to crawl out of bed in the morning…grudgingly I open my eyelids to the morning light at 9 am and run out of the house with a sandwich in my hand at 10…such is my habit, such is my routine. So for me to take an initiative to even think about waking up at 7 for gym every morning is very very very big!
But I am determined. And I have gone and asked them how much will it cost, I have taken the pain and effort to walk into that fitness space (in which me and my flabby self feels totally out of place) and ask for the fitness instructor (who by the way is totally hot and totally indifferent)….I have figured out which membership plan I want, I have decided what time slot will suit me and will make me (hopefully) a healthier and thinner person. I seem to be so obsessed with the idea of losing weight. Part of me blames the goddamn tiny anorexic-designed dresses that are sold at Peddar road that come in from Bangkok, part of me blames the very looks oriented society we live in, part of me blames the fact that I am not fighting the system but falling into it and yet part of me blames the indifference in which I am letting myself bloat up.
Am I fat? Am I thin? Am I fit? More importantly, am I happy? And if losing a couple of kgs would make me happier then I suppose this is a good new year’s gift to give oneself. All I am hoping is that there is weight loss all over and that I don’t end up looking like a bigger caricature – or if a caricature must I be, then let me atleast be a pretty caricature.
With this hopeful note, I pen down my new years fitness resolution and validate my coupon to happiness.
*huff puff*
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Loud and Clear
I wonder who discovered this wonderful thing that I have just discovered. And I don’t know why I didn’t discover it earlier. To think of it, it’s been ten years since it all began – how convenient would it have been if I had been adventurous enough to use it then. It would have been ten years of hardly knowing that every month the cycle with repeat itself – the pain, the mood swings, the lethargy, and the lack of appetite – most of it would diminish and I would have been a happier and a less bothered woman – as I am now.
I remember seeing it first when I was 14. It looked like a little bullet – and we were so fascinated – I mean why wouldn’t we be- after being used to seeing white rectangular lumps, these tiny things the size of half my index finger seemed fascinating – how could that tiny thing soak up so much, it was totally incomprehensible to us. So my other 14 year old friends and I unwrapped one – with wide eyed wonder… as if a mystery was getting solved - and put it in a mug of water and ‘PLOP’ it swelled up in an instant and became more that double its size. I think that that sight was what scared me out of my wits…just imaging inserting it was unthinkable then – and then the fact that it would double up in size was downright scary.
Then one day I grew up. I became 24 and that sight that beheld my gaze and horror ten years ago was suddenly very blurry and the misery of handling the trouble every month with my hectic work schedule very clear. So I went for it yet again, and managed to use it…and now I am relieved, I am happy, and I have almost forgotten the worry that would make me squirm in the middle of the night.
It’s probably the only good thing that man discovered that was a gift to us women. It all started with something to plug in wounds of the French soldiers. I agree there was no intention to make it what it is today – but that’s how the tampon came into being and made comfortable my monthly being.
Hail OB!! Hail the Tampon!! Loud and clear!!! I need to ‘whisper’ no more.
I remember seeing it first when I was 14. It looked like a little bullet – and we were so fascinated – I mean why wouldn’t we be- after being used to seeing white rectangular lumps, these tiny things the size of half my index finger seemed fascinating – how could that tiny thing soak up so much, it was totally incomprehensible to us. So my other 14 year old friends and I unwrapped one – with wide eyed wonder… as if a mystery was getting solved - and put it in a mug of water and ‘PLOP’ it swelled up in an instant and became more that double its size. I think that that sight was what scared me out of my wits…just imaging inserting it was unthinkable then – and then the fact that it would double up in size was downright scary.
Then one day I grew up. I became 24 and that sight that beheld my gaze and horror ten years ago was suddenly very blurry and the misery of handling the trouble every month with my hectic work schedule very clear. So I went for it yet again, and managed to use it…and now I am relieved, I am happy, and I have almost forgotten the worry that would make me squirm in the middle of the night.
It’s probably the only good thing that man discovered that was a gift to us women. It all started with something to plug in wounds of the French soldiers. I agree there was no intention to make it what it is today – but that’s how the tampon came into being and made comfortable my monthly being.
Hail OB!! Hail the Tampon!! Loud and clear!!! I need to ‘whisper’ no more.
Monday, December 10, 2007
On Popular Demand
I haven’t been writing anything good. Actually I haven’t been writing at all of late. As many of you know, my affections have been diverted to another link that I keep hidden from the world. I wanted to experiment with a space where I wouldn’t have to think twice about what I write – and the experiment proved to be quite fruitful – so that’s why the schizophrenic salad hasn’t seen the face of a new post in ages.
But today my wardrobe-critiquing-mojito-sipping friend asked to post something “on popular demand” so I embarked on this mission to have at least a post (even if it’s a lame one) to make an appearance on my blog today.
I think I have stopped writing because mostly I have nothing to write about – nothing really important so to say – no heart aches, no heart breaks, no pain, no misery, no joy, no rains, no trains. I fear I am going through a writers block of the worst kind. Or worse still, I fear that my brain is soon depleting and I have no opinions to throw around anymore.
Yes, I feel out of touch with the world – sometimes I feel myself losing perspective – sometimes I feel mentally lethargic, so much so that even thinking is an effort. My world is cocooned to my work place, my parents giving me continuous flak about the marriage issue, my effort to sleep on time and some television thrown in here and there (ofcourse with the never ending sorrow about my skin and my endless desperate efforts to salvage it).
Life had more meaning when I had more friends. What a dangerous thing to say. I feel sometimes that my identity is a result of all identities around me – who I am is determined by my friends, my boyfriend, my colleagues, my designation at work, my family – in all cases, it is in respect to someone or the other. I suddenly feel terribly afraid…what if that’s it…what if that’s all that my identity will ever be? – determined by people around me – and what am I without those people – I suddenly don’t know.
I feel so drained. Didn’t I tell you? I feel tired to even think anymore. Because silly random questions like these pop up and then I want to just sleep. Take for example today – because I had a huge fight with my parents and my mother chose to call and keep yapping about it, I conveniently refused to wake up and face the day – I sent some lame ass excuse to office and woke up at 11 and sauntered my way into office at 12:30 – rushed around, diligently finished work and made an exit at 7 pm. After which I had sumptuous dinner and headed home in the “proper” time (lest my folks lose it again) and now I am sitting at my laptop typing this – while getting ready to sleep again.
Sleep is the best remedy. I could sleep over most problems. Except when I didn’t have a job – that time even sleep would evade me…eyes snapped open at 6 am sharp – oh those were some torturous days. I don’t even want to think about them right now. Thinking is so tiring. And the week has just began.
And I didn’t even pay enough justice to the fact that this was a post after a very very long time…I just rambled on thoughtlessly – and didn’t have one thread of connection or any structure whatsoever. But then again, this is my blog and writing nonsense is my own business.
I promise to try harder next time. I promise to live upto popular demand. Right now I must sleep my miseries away. Right now I must watch some television and drop semi dead in slumber.
Goodnight.
But today my wardrobe-critiquing-mojito-sipping friend asked to post something “on popular demand” so I embarked on this mission to have at least a post (even if it’s a lame one) to make an appearance on my blog today.
I think I have stopped writing because mostly I have nothing to write about – nothing really important so to say – no heart aches, no heart breaks, no pain, no misery, no joy, no rains, no trains. I fear I am going through a writers block of the worst kind. Or worse still, I fear that my brain is soon depleting and I have no opinions to throw around anymore.
Yes, I feel out of touch with the world – sometimes I feel myself losing perspective – sometimes I feel mentally lethargic, so much so that even thinking is an effort. My world is cocooned to my work place, my parents giving me continuous flak about the marriage issue, my effort to sleep on time and some television thrown in here and there (ofcourse with the never ending sorrow about my skin and my endless desperate efforts to salvage it).
Life had more meaning when I had more friends. What a dangerous thing to say. I feel sometimes that my identity is a result of all identities around me – who I am is determined by my friends, my boyfriend, my colleagues, my designation at work, my family – in all cases, it is in respect to someone or the other. I suddenly feel terribly afraid…what if that’s it…what if that’s all that my identity will ever be? – determined by people around me – and what am I without those people – I suddenly don’t know.
I feel so drained. Didn’t I tell you? I feel tired to even think anymore. Because silly random questions like these pop up and then I want to just sleep. Take for example today – because I had a huge fight with my parents and my mother chose to call and keep yapping about it, I conveniently refused to wake up and face the day – I sent some lame ass excuse to office and woke up at 11 and sauntered my way into office at 12:30 – rushed around, diligently finished work and made an exit at 7 pm. After which I had sumptuous dinner and headed home in the “proper” time (lest my folks lose it again) and now I am sitting at my laptop typing this – while getting ready to sleep again.
Sleep is the best remedy. I could sleep over most problems. Except when I didn’t have a job – that time even sleep would evade me…eyes snapped open at 6 am sharp – oh those were some torturous days. I don’t even want to think about them right now. Thinking is so tiring. And the week has just began.
And I didn’t even pay enough justice to the fact that this was a post after a very very long time…I just rambled on thoughtlessly – and didn’t have one thread of connection or any structure whatsoever. But then again, this is my blog and writing nonsense is my own business.
I promise to try harder next time. I promise to live upto popular demand. Right now I must sleep my miseries away. Right now I must watch some television and drop semi dead in slumber.
Goodnight.
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