New beginnings.. continued..

So, where were we? Yes, house hunting. The process was a little too chaotic, and since I do not remember the events sequentially, I will go ahead with random bullets points  for this post.

- We started by getting numbers of a few brokers/agents that operated in the areas we were looking to rent in. My dad connected us to some of his friends, who in turn passed on some numbers. Mint’s batch mates from his MBA program who have recently moved to Mumbai also referred a few agents. Other than that, we looked up a few agents online.

- We were confused. Should we rent a 1 bhk? Or should we go ahead with a 2 bhk? Considering it is just the two of us, we didn’t really need more than 1 bedroom. Also, my family lives in the same city and they have a house of their own. Mint’s parents wont be visiting us that often. But, my friends kept saying they wanted us to get a home with 2 bedrooms, so they could stay back. Also, I thought an extra bedroom would be nice. My parents could stay back often. Anyway, since we were so confused, we decided to take a look at both the options.

- We decided to commence the hunt on a Saturday morning, starting with the agent we had found online. It was scorching hot. He connected us to another agent, who had the keys of the house to be shown. That was the first house we saw. It wasn’t bad as such. But boy, it was loud and gaudy. It had mirrors on the ceilings. Loud interiors. Fans with multi colour streaks. My mind screamed a ‘No’ the moment we saw it, but the agents were all praise. They said this was the only  furnished house available in that price.

- That was only the start. Post that, we went on to see about a hundred houses. It was a very tiring experience. We saw homes with a single bedroom, and two bedrooms both. The homes I seemed to really like crossed our budget by a huge margin. Some homes we saw were ugly. Some houses were in bad locations. Some homes were perfect, other than possessing that one wrong thing we couldn’t ignore. Like a fluorescent green kitchen counter.

- We were beginning to lose hope. We contacted other agents. What I didn’t realise was that this was a well connected network. Each agent having the same list of properties to show. Also, the agents seemed somewhat.. err.. like thugs to me. Their talks were on the lines of ‘Party ko apun ne B wing ka flat dikhayla hai’

- We had strange encounters along the way, with society owners eyeing us suspiciously. A particular manager from one of the housing committees even went to the extent of telling us they do not rent homes to couples who are living in together. We’re married, we told him. He said the society will want to see our marriage certificate. That is not a problem, we said. But his tone seemed so full of accusation, it amused me. As usual, with my sleeveless tee and casual jeans and no visible signs of marriage, we didn’t look married to him.

- We finally met an agent who spoke fluent English, was understanding and didn’t chew paan. Just talking to him made me regain that lost hope. I could see a remarkable difference in the kind of houses he was showing us. All the same, I was tired and wanted to end the process soon. Mint, as usual, was in no mood to make a decision until he had seen every single place there was to see. I couldn’t afford to take any leave. So I would drag my tired self after work and we would see apartments late in the evening. I was getting impatient and cranky.

- Since we realised finding an apartment we loved was not realistic, we decided to shortlist apartments, in order of our preference. These were apartments we could merely tolerate. I am glad we didn’t go ahead and finalise one of those.

- And then, one evening, we walked into a place that I knew would be our home. Just like that. It had wonderful vibes and I knew this was it. It also met most of our criteria. It was walking distance from Mint’s office. It wasn’t too far from the station. It had plenty of sun light. It was fully furnished, with 2 bedrooms, and an AC fitted in all the rooms. My favourite part – it had big windows and lovely seating around it. As expected, it seriously exceeded our budget, but never mind.

- The sister had seen the house when we saw it. We took my mum and dad to see the place, and they gave us their approval within minutes of seeing it. My dad and Mint scheduled a meeting with the owner. They were lovely people and we felt at ease interacting with them. We signed the agreement almost immediately.We’re yet to get the keys, since the home is getting painted, but knowing we have our new home in place makes me so relieved and happy..

- And now, we officially move on to the next task. Selecting and buying a car. Reviews and recommendations are welcome.

 

New beginnings..

A lot of you in the comments section asked me this one question that I kept dodging – ‘Which city are we moving to, now that Mint’s MBA is over?’ I didn’t have an answer to that question for a long time. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you will know how much I wanted to live in Bombay. Unfortunately, the offer that Mint had through his campus placements was not based in Bombay. Also, due to a sudden change in their placement rules, he was allowed to hold only a single offer. Which meant, he was pulled out of the placement process and was not permitted to apply to other jobs anymore. We kept applying for  jobs externally, but almost everything that came our way was based in Bangalore.

The jobs were not bad. At one point, we had quite a few job offers in hand, all of which were based in Bangalore and Pune. Just when I was about to lose hope and resign to living elsewhere, things worked out. And how! This happened a few weeks ago, and I was dying to put up this happy news on the blog, but severe shortage of time made it impossible for me to open this page.

A job in Bombay happened. It was the industry we were eyeing. The role was of Mint’s choice. The money was pretty damn good. It all seemed too good to be true. Ever since, I’ve been living in a happy bubble. Moving back to India now makes complete sense to me. I will be living the life I had envisioned for myself. With my family in the same city – visiting each other every few days and sharing life’s joys with each other. Let me say a little thank you to God for making it work for me, just the way I wanted it.

Anyway, since the time we finalised our stay in this city, we’ve been furiously hunting for an apartment to rent. This was our criteria:

- We wanted the house to be within our budget. Spending too much on rent does not make much sense to us. If we want to buy a home eventually, we’d rather save for it now. But alas, the words ‘budget’ and ‘Mumbai’ do not go together.

- I wanted the house to be close to Mint’s office. If one of us has to spend time commuting, I’d rather it be me. I want this to be as easy for Mint as possible. This will be Mint’s very first job in India. He isn’t used to the work hours in India. He isn’t used to the crazy Mumbai travel. In order to cushion the impact of the upheaval, I thought we should get a home from which he can walk to his office. Again, that didn’t go too well with our ‘budget’.

- We wanted the house to come with a parking spot. I thought this was a given. Turned out it wasn’t. Many homes came with no parking. We had to eliminate them. Spending hours finding a spot on the road every day was definitely not how we’d like to live.

- We wanted a furnished or a semi furnished house. Since we’re only just starting our life in this country, we own no furniture. Renting an unfurnished home would mean buying everything from scratch. We thought we’d rather do this after we own a home, so we can buy furniture that will fit the home and its style.

- I wanted there to be adequate sunlight in the house. Dim and dingy homes are not conducive to my mental well being. For me, home is a place that is bright and airy. Ofcourse, I might want to draw the curtains and dim the lights on certain days and enjoy the cool darkness, but living in that environment should be a choice, not a compulsion.

Other than the basics, I would have liked a few other things – a building that is not too old, a big enough kitchen sink, good pressure in the shower, no gaudy interiors, etc. Thankfully, we were brought back to earth on day 1 of our house hunt.

To be continued..

Little joys

At some point if you’d ask me my definition of ‘ideal’, I’d say it is the thought of having my parents, sister and Mint with me, together, in the same space! My ideal world came into existence about a month ago, when Mint moved in with me, into my parents’ home. This is, ofcourse, a temporary move. But to my delight, it meant having all my precious people under the same roof, even if it was only for a while.

Well, it wasn’t exactly easy. Mint didn’t move in alone. He moved in with 20 other cartons (some that contain his MBA books and binders), 2 big suitcases and a lot of other stuff that we really don’t know how to accommodate. The hall seems to have visible taints of brown, courtesy the number of boxes and cartons that are lying around. A part of the dining table is being used as storage for more boxes. The side tables next to the bed are barely visible because of the number of things dumped on them. A towering heap of folded clothes rests on top of the printer. In short, it is plain crazy.

But, the joy of living together makes everything worth it. I know Mint and I will be moving out sometime soon, and that knowledge makes me cherish these moments even more. Each time  I realise we are all home for the day, each time we have our evening chai, each time we watch TV as a family after dinner, each time the sister, Mint and I engage in some ridiculous conversation, each time my parents pamper us, each time we go for walks, each time we have a spontaneous outing, I feel thankful. I feel thankful for all the joyous little moments I get to experience.

I must admit, it has been all joy and no work so far, because my parents run the home. The sister, Mint and I are simply treated as spoilt kids. We have no real responsibility. Mint is officially on vacation, though he does chip in now and then. The sister had exams so far, so she excluded herself. And me, well, I go to work during the day and that justifies not lifting a finger once I am back home in the evening.

Things are going to be slightly different now. My mum is off tomorrow to Dehradun. She will be traveling for 8 days. The sister’s exams just got over and she ran away to Goa. She will be gone for 8 days too. My dad was traveling on work to Bangalore. He got back today, but he will probably be traveling in this week too.

That leaves just Mint and I, to run the home for now. For me, this is the first time I will be managing work and home, both. Mint, ofcourse, is expected to take the larger part of the share, since he is at home.

Basic tasks like folding the sheets once we wake up, buying veggies, planning the menu, cooking meals, cleaning the kitchen after meals, scrubbing the counters at night, washing and folding clothes, packing my lunch box in the mornings, supervising the maids, and other chores seem alien to us now. I am sure this coming week is going to be a fun ride for us.  After all, we have to start living on our own soon. I see this as a rehearsal session. Let us see how we fare.

Yet another year passed by..really, how?

It has been a few days since I have been trying to compose a post. Actually, more than a few days. I remember trying to write since a few weeks. It is not that I didn’t have time. I did. Sleep took precedence on most days. At times, I would open this page, type two lines and then let out a small yawn, push the laptop aside and decide to write later. I never got around to doing it. I continue to wish I had the freedom to blog from my work place. *Note to self* – Make sure your next work place allows you to blog during work hours. I know, I have strange criteria.

One of the problems was that I had too much to say. Too many things to write about. It made me feel all muddled. So I refrained from writing. I hope I am able to fix this by writing everyday and letting out my thoughts in spurts, instead of creating a chaotic jam in my head . I think the longer you stay away from the blogworld, the harder it is to come back.

I celebrated my birthday last week. My birthday is that one event that gets me really excited. I look forward to it all year, think of ways to celebrate months in advance and generally spend the last few days counting down to the day. Last year, Mint was not around for my birthday, since it was just the beginning of his MBA. This year, I was doubly excited, to be spending my birthday with my family and Mint, both! That too, in my beloved city, Bombay!

As luck would have it, we realised that Mint had to travel to Bangalore on my birthday. He could cancel it, but the travel was to our benefit. Despite the benefits, Mint was all prepared to cancel the travel. So I had to actually smile and tell him I was fine, and that it was okay and that he must go and generally be all graceful and grown up. Sigh, the things that are expected of you as you grow.

Thankfully, he would be back in time for dinner. Since my birthday was on a Saturday, I was fortunate enough to not be at work. I woke up leisurely, went for lunch at a huge family gathering, cut my birthday cake at home with my parents in the evening and headed out to dinner with friends. We went to Salt Water Cafe in Bandra. If you live in Bombay and haven’t been there, I highly recommend it.

Mint got there from the airport directly. Most of my close friends, including the sister were there. The 8 of us had a good time, though the amount we paid burned a humongous hole in our pocket. Anyway, since we really did enjoy the dinner and the drinks, I am not complaining too much.

I turned 27 and I am still very clueless about life. Having kids, buying a home, clearing our EMI’s, saving money, I wonder what else is expected of us as we grow. This adult world is not very nice. Until I am mentally ready to cope with it, I will continue to snuggle in my warm bed and tell myself it is okay to grow up another day.

Year 3 – Happy Anniversary, Mint

Dear Mint,

A few days ago, we completed 3 years of married life. I didn’t get a chance to put this post up on the right date, because we were just so busy! Running around on campus, saying our goodbyes to your classmates, packing up and putting the remnants of your student life in boxes, using the last few moments on campus to socialise, gearing up for your graduation ceremony, running on the station platform, lugging overstuffed, giant sized bags in order to make it to the train, it was all such a blur.

We were actually in the train on the eve of our wedding anniversary, and when the clock struck 12, I glanced at you. You were lying on the opposite berth, exhausted. I looked at you for a few moments as the train chugged ahead. The moment seemed symbolic. We were moving forward. We were in transit. That moment perfectly represents our life right now. Don’t you think? We are moving towards a new job, a new life, and many changes.

Do you remember the time, long before we were married, when you told me you wanted to do your MBA? Do you remember how disturbed I was by the idea? I knew how demanding the top school MBA programs were. I didn’t want to be competing for your time, not with your classes, books, assignments and a bursting schedule. So you decided to push your MBA. You said you would do it after we got married.

When we did get married, it was time for you to go to school. But I threw a fit again. We were newly married, I didn’t want to share you with anybody or anything, not this soon. I wanted to have fun with you. So you let go of your admits and decided to defer your MBA for me. Again.

At the back of my mind, I always felt guilty. Was I depriving you of something you wanted for my own selfish needs? Perhaps. Throughout our married life, that thought kept nagging me every now and then. So when you donned your graduation robe and walked to the stage to collect your MBA degree, I felt not only a surge of pride, I also felt like I had attained closure. Something that had remained incomplete, how now been completed. Your MBA was done. And I felt happy, proud and fulfilled.

The past year was all about your MBA, and learning to survive the distance. If there was one thing I learnt, it was to value you. Did you notice, we barely argued through out the year. Each time we met, we mostly smiled, hugged and cuddled. So when I am overcome by the desire to smack you, when I see you glued to the TV, or playing temple run for the nth time, or when I want to kick your ass for staring at the laptop screen when I am talking to you, I will remind myself of the times when I was willing to overlook all of this, just to be able to spend a few moments with you by my side.

The other day, we happened to be shopping for me at Lifestyle. I spotted an offer – buy 3 tees for the price of 2. Not being the kind to let go of a deal, you encouraged me to buy 3 tees. I tried to fish out 3 ‘Small’ sized tees from the basket. Since I am too lazy and uncaring, I conveniently picked up the the tees that were lying at the top. Who wanted to rummage through the entire pile? But you wanted me to have the best of the lot. So you asked me to step aside, and you continued to search for and pull out the small sized tees from the bottom, painstakingly evaluating and shortlisting them for me.

A few moments later, I found a woman asking you if you had a particular tee in a larger size. I was a little miffed. Does he look like a salesman? And then when I looked around, I realised why she would have mistaken you for one. You were the only guy, standing amidst a hundred women around a basket that said ‘Sale’, in the women’s clothing section. Now you don’t go around seeing too many guys carefully examining and holding a bunch of women’s tees, do you?

I asked you later, if the incident bothered you. Didn’t it trouble you? Standing in the midst of women, doing a ‘woman’s job’, and being mistaken for a salesman? “Who cares? As long as you got some good tees”, you said. And that is why I think you are awesome. The fact that you never seem to care about what the world thinks or says. The fact that you fight for the best for me, even when I am too lazy to do it for myself. The fact that you never ever expect me to cook or clean just because you are a man and I am your wife adds to it. I see you fighting the battles of feminism with other men, and I feel proud of you.

I am putting up a picture of ours that I think truly depicts and sums up our relationship.

That is us. Carefree, holding on to each other, dancing in the middle of the night, on the streets of Amsterdam, with no inhibitions. May we sail through life, just like that.

Lots of love,

– Pepper

Weekend getaway

Time and again, I feel the need for a holiday. A small break that will allow us to scurry away from the madness. At times, I feel like I haven’t had a good holiday in years. And then I gently remind myself of a few facts. Since the past 4 years, we’ve been doing not one, but two international holidays in a year! One would be a yearly trip to India. Other than that, we always tried to throw in more destinations. We did Hongkong a year ago. And our last big holiday was Europe, which was barely 6 months ago. So I really shouldn’t be complaining too much.

But with the crazy life we’ve been leading, I found myself yearning for a little break, again. I didn’t have leave. Rather, I wanted to save my leave for later. I knew a full blown vacation was not possible. So we chose a weekend getaway.

We asked my parents and sis to join us, but since the sister had exams coming up, she chose to stay back. Which meant, either mom or dad would have to stay back with her. My dad said he would, and urged mom to go with us. I thought it was the right decision, since I believed my mom needed a break more than my dad did.

We chose a resort on Manori Island for two reasons. One, I had heard some very good things about the place from her. Two, we wouldn’t have to spend hours traveling. A ferry ride is all it would take to get us there.

Mint, mum and I left home around noon on Saturday. Yes, we were to leave earlier, but Mint chose that very morning to go and play Frisbee at Juhu Beach. That delayed us. Ofcourse, we had a mini fight because of that, but let me not get into that now. Let this post be all about the awesomeness that was Manori.

We stayed at a resort called Manoribel. I am documenting this break, because it was all I wanted it to be. So when I begin to believe I haven’t had a break in eons, I want to have this record to come back to.

We spent all our time lying on hammocks, reading, walking on the beach, eating corn on the cob, chatting, sleeping, and eating good food, taking in the greenery. The mother and the husband spent some time ganging up against me, but I was kind enough to let that go past.

Some pictures..

Mint lying in the hammock with a book

Where we ate our meals

Me watching the sun set in the sea

A baby coconut I was fascinated by.

This was a lovely little break. One that I needed. Life has been nothing short of a roller coaster. I have so much to say, but for that, I will have to come back another time.

Random

Perhaps I should start by thanking all of you for writing in to me after my last post. I really didn’t expect a response this time. But you took the time out to compose an email, jot down your concerns and suggestions and send it to me. This blogworld is such an amazing place. It makes a nobody feel very valued and cared for.

I haven’t had a chance to get my blood tests done, but for now, I have been prescribed iron and vitamin tablets. My parents say I create a scene every night when I am asked to swallow the pills. But what to do? Tablets make me gag. I hope this stops soon, because I sure can’t imagine nauseating myself like that for too long.

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Work made me feel like I was spending my life in tiresome drudgery, so I took last Friday off and went to see Mint on campus. It was my last time there. And as expected, I found myself getting all nostalgic. The campus, the lawns, the dorm room, the reception area, all of it, makes me wishful now. To make the most of my last visit, we took a few refreshing walks across the lawns. I know those last few walks will make lasting memories. I wish I had a camera..

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I did something very out of character by wearing a dress that seemed quite low necked (by my standards) to one of the campus parties. It so happened that I forgot to carry the tube top I wear underneath. Mint asked me to try on the dress and told me he didn’t think it was inappropriate by any standards. Until the last minute, I kept telling him I was not sure I could do it. I did, however step out after he gave me a lecture on how I need to be bold and confident and now care about what others will think or say. Today at work, I happened to sit with a group of women who kept talking about how their husbands don’t let them wear sleeveless clothes. It made me really wonder, why is my husband such a contradiction? Not that I am complaining..

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We celebrated my dad’s birthday yesterday. Time and again, I have been envious of bloggers who skillfully sketch out characters of the people they love on their blogs. They do this by writing about small incidents and occurrences, by putting up snippets of their conversations. Very soon, most readers know about the said family members personalities, their quirks, how close they are to the blogger. I have never been able to sketch characters through my writing. I felt like writing a post for my dad on his birthday yesterday, but just saying things like he was an integral part of me felt so inadequate. I wished I had written more about our beautiful bond and our crazy, fun life during the course of the year. But then I asked myself – why do I have to exhibit my awesome relationship with my family to the world? If I could write effortlessly about them, I would. But since I can’t, why do I long for the world to know? Once I realised that, I didn’t feel too guilty for not writing much about us. Strange solace?

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I managed to live away from Mint for 11 whole months. And now, the dreaded distance will no longer separate us. That period is almost over. Just a few more days to go, before we get back to living with each other.  I can’t put in words how I feel.. This deserves a new post.

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My life is in for a lot of changes. I still don’t know anything for certain, but there is so much going on. In the midst of the chaos, I have ignored my mails and this comment space. I will be back. In fact, I will come back to this dear corner and pour out my thoughts without restrain once things firm up a little. As usual, I feel nervous, scared, excited. I also hear a voice in my head that says ‘Beware the Ides of March..’

 

I have no excuse..

I’ve been experiencing something strange in the past few days, or perhaps, weeks. I feel completely devoid of energy. I feel dead. Literally. The dictionary defines ‘alive’ as ‘Having life, vigour or spirit’. I certainly don’t meet that criteria. Most days, I feel too dead to move a muscle.

I find it rather strange, because I hardly subject my body to any kind of physical exertion. Far from it. I get adequate sleep. More than 8 hours in fact. I hit the bed by 11 pm. 11:30 at the most. I wake up not before 7:45 in the morning. I get my breakfast and coffee in hand. I take an auto to work, avoiding the hassle of crowded buses and trains.

And yet, by about noon, I find myself dead. And stressed out. All I want to do is go to sleep and never wake up. I drag myself and get a coffee to my desk. I feel like I need to physically push myself to get on with the day. I get another coffee around 4 pm to keep going.

The past few days, I have even been leaving office in good time. I leave by 6:30, or 7 in the evening. I take an auto back home and I am lying on my couch by 7:30. Although I am back home, I find it very hard to disconnect from work. My mind is worrying about the next day. When I bring my laptop to browse, I find it too hard to believe that I actually do  have the freedom to log on to whatever site I want to now, because mentally, I am still seated on my desk, at work. So many times, I have to shake myself out of reverie and consciously make myself focus on, just being home. I know that sounds weird.

By around 8 pm, I feel so dead, like I have just returned from a war field. I feel unreasonably exhausted, so I simly continue lying on the couch and doing nothing. I get my dinner in hand. Yes, I request my mom to serve me, because I don’t find the energy to go to the kitchen and bring my plate. She usually ‘babies’ me and I get the food laid in front of me, and guess what, I feel too tired to eat. Because that involves moving my muscles. I do manage to eat, go and change into my pajamas, toss my used clothes on a chair in my room only to see them vanish the next day. They get washed, ironed and are  moved to my wardrobe. The same cycle repeats the next day. After changing into my night clothes, I usually go back to the couch with my laptop, either browse or watch some TV, and then go to bed by 11, feeling terribly, terribly tired.

I mentally yell at myself a lot. This exhaustion and lack of energy is not justified. What am I doing through out the day? I mean, I am just fortunate I am living with my parents, so I manage to get everything in hand. Otherwise, a typical day would involve waking up in the morning, fixing breakfast, perhaps even lunch, going to work using public transport (including crowded trains), rushing back home, fixing dinner, tidying up the house, folding clothes, cleaning the kitchen and doing other domestic chores before calling it a day. And once you have a baby in the picture, your energy level needs to double up.

Why do I feel so unequipped to face life? Why do I feel so dead without doing anything? I know I can’t afford to feel like this for too long. Soon, I will be forced to shoulder responsibility and run a home. How will I find the stamina? Most people do not seem to need more than 6 hours of sleep in a day. I find even 8 hours too little. Why can’t I be like the rest?

I feel the fatigue surfacing even on the weekend. All I want to do is sleep in. There is a growing list of friends and family that I want to meet. Every weekend I make promises of meeting them the following weekend, only to feel too dead again. There are a lot of errands I need to run, places I want to go to, people I want to catch up with, but at this rate, I will continue to lead a wasted life. Is there some way I can infuse some zest and energy into my body? Sigh.

Matters of false pride

It has been 10 months since we moved back to India. 10 months would seem long enough, to some. By now, I am expected to adapt to the Indianness that surrounds me. Why should that be hard, considering I grew up here? Well, it is. I believe America taught me to think.  I think I was too used to bowing down to the mental framework of the country I was born in. I didn’t think I could question the practices. Because after all, ‘this is how things work here’.

I have changed. I do question things that I disagree with. My thoughts carry a strong influence of the other two countries I have lived in. I do not blindly surrender anymore. From little matters, that do not carry much weight, to huge issues that shape the society we live in, I spend some time going over them in my head, keeping in mind the finer nuances of Indian culture.

Let me talk about one such ‘little matter’ with an example. It highlights the way Indians think. Mom and I found ourselves home on a Saturday evening. Dad is in Manila this week. The sister had gone to a friend’s birthday party. So it was just us, mom and I. The original plan was to shorten the ‘to do’ list that seemed longer than a mile, but since neither of us were in the mood to do any of that, we decided to take a break and head out to dinner.

We chose Mainland China. I like the place. The ambiance is good. We ordered a couple of things and were having a good time. My mom has a very poor appetite, and I knew we would not be able to finish the food we had ordered. Never mind, I thought. I wanted her to sample different things, so I went ahead and ordered them. I thought we could take back the left over and use it for the next meal.

Except that, there seemed to be a problem. We had only half eaten some of the items we had ordered, and one particular appetizer was consumed by about 70%. The remaining 30% (that consisted of 8 pieces of crispy vegetables) was lying on the table. When our server came by, I asked him to pack all the remaining food. He looked at me, and then glanced at the remaining crispy veg and asked me, “This too?”. I tried to keep my cool, and simply said ‘yes’. He then went on to tell me, ‘But this is too little’. His expression was full of disgust. I told myself to remain calm. All I told him was, ‘I prefer to not trash it’. He then had the nerve to tell me, ‘Even the paper bag I pack it in will seem so empty’. That is when I lost it.

This is an attitude I am sick of. I am sorry, but you have no right to make me feel embarrassed for wanting to take home the food I have paid for. Just because I do not have room to consume it right now, does not mean I will not want to eat it later. Why should it be considered below my dignity to want to take back food that is less in quantity? Is it a status or a prestige issue? Am I trying to say that  such little quantity is irrelevant to me? And who decides what quantity is acceptable? 30% seemed too less to him. 50% might seem too less to another. So are you suggested I trash all that remains on my plate?

In the past, I have let go of huge slices of pizzas because I was too full to eat it at that point, and too embarrassed to want to ask for one single piece to be packed. Even when I let go of it then, I felt horrid. Damn, that slice of pizza would be relished in a few hours. But unfortunately, I couldn’t take it back. I was conditioned into believing it was a ‘cheap’ thing to do. Now I wonder why?

Wanting to take home the food for self consumption is one thing. Most times I want to pack it only to pass it on to some hungry, homeless people lying on the streets. India has them in abundance. You find them in every corner. So why would you embarrass me for wanting to feed them?

The US, thankfully, functions very differently. You are never made to feel embarrassed if you want to ‘box’ even a half eaten slice of pizza. Infact, it is something that is considered obvious. Because really, why would you want to trash it? The servers there are courteous enough to ask you if you want to box something on their own. Most times, you don’t even have to go through the process of asking your food to be boxed. You see disposable boxes lying on counters in the sides of most restaurants. Just go there and pick them up on your own. They go to the extent of letting you take back a quarter glass of juice, in disposable cups. That is how the culture is built. Why do we, in India, carry this false sense of pride?

Anyway, let me come back to the server who enraged me by saying all that he did. I had two options. I could either fume internally and let go of it all, or I could speak up for a change and point out some fundamental facts to him. The old me would have stayed quiet. But this time, I decided to speak and battle the mindsets.

I started by filling the feedback form that was provided to me. I wrote a long comment in the section titled ‘Your suggestions’. I hoped that would get them to react to it while I was there. I did want to address this issue, instead of letting it go. Fortunately, the moment I had submitted the form, I had the manager walk up to me. He wanted to discuss it. I asked for our server. Once he was called, I spoke. I told him how wrong it was to question diners about the quantity of food they wanted to parcel. I spoke about Indian mindsets. I spoke about how this should not be a prestige issue. I spoke about how servers like him embarrass patrons and cause them let go of their food even if they don’t want to. I spoke about how this creates mass wastage. I spoke a lot.

They were very, very apologetic. Our server particularly, personally apologised to me a total of 5 times. I didn’t want to make this a huge issue. At the same time, I didn’t want to let go of it. Because I would be guilty of submitting to a system that I did not believe in. We can’t expect change if we do not work towards change.  It was important to me that he never did that again. So it was important to raise an objection to this attitude now. In the end, he did promise me he would never repeat such behaviour or embarrass a patron for wanting to take back small quantity of food. To make up for it, they offered us some chocolates.

I really don’t know if this attitude will change anytime soon. What I do know is that we need to start changing the way we think and behave. So please, do not feel embarrassed to ask for small quantity of food to be packed. There are a lot of hungry people who can do with it.  If somebody questions you, I hope you speak up.

 

Not all Fridays are happy

The ‘Friday feel’ is usually awesome. You know?  That feeling that comes with knowing you don’t have to wake up to an alarm the next day. That feeling of lightheartedness that accompanies you all day? That feeling of freedom? That feeling of anticipation? That feeling of general happiness?

Well, I don’t feel it this Friday. Because I am working tomorrow. In my world, working on a Saturday is blasphemous. My work seems like it will never end. The atmosphere continues to be poisonous.

This is going to be a hectic weekend. I have a lot lined up. I don’t feel up to it. I am waiting for some news from Mint’s end. That leaves me on the edge, as usual. I have a monster headache. I am cranky and grumpy and grouchy and angry and angsty and snarky and crabby and.. just plain tired. It is all of it put together, but mainly, it is just work. Work that sucks.

To all of you who don’t have to go to work tomorrow and are basking in the Friday happiness – I hate you.

Making it special

Of all things that feature in the ‘special’ list for couples, I would say the first home in which you start your life together is located somewhere at the top. It is of high sentimental value. For me, alteast. In this day and age, many of us are renting homes. Moving cities and changing locations and homes is not uncommon. The ‘first home’ stands out. And ofcourse, the first time you walk into that home as a couple is what memories are made of.

The first home I lived in with Mint was a tiny, hole in the wall studio apartment, in Cincinnati, Ohio. It contained a lot of old, unmatched furniture picked up from various friends who were moving out. In other words, it wasn’t spectacular. After that, we went on to move to a bigger home in California, which was cosy, which we loved.  But, this little studio was special. It was our first home. I remember the first time I walked in. It was the day I had landed in the US. We were tired, and had lugged our huge suitcases up the stairs all by ourselves. It had been a long journey for us, but now that I was so close to seeing my new home, I couldn’t wait. I remember feeling impatient as Mint fished for the keys. All I wanted to do was dash in and see the place.

The first thing I noticed was how clean the place was. Now, if you know Mint, you will know what an achievement this is for him. I could see the effort he had put into cleaning the place for me. Everything was in its rightful place. Most surfaces were shining. I think that is probably the only time I have seen Mint invest so much effort into cleaning.

My welcome gift was in the bathroom. I am nuts about a particular fragrance from Bath & Body Works. ‘Warm Vanilla Sugar’ is what drives me senses crazy. To my delight, the bathroom was full of this fragrance, in the form of body washes, shower gels, body lotions and creams, mists, perfumes. All of it was warm vanilla sugar. I wanted to jump straight into the bath tub.

And there was this one DVD that I had been looking for since forever. “If Only’. Have you seen that movie? It isn’t a very well known one. Anyway, I was a very happy girl that day. Obviously, that day has been etched in my memory.

The other day, my friend who is getting married, called me while I was at work. His marriage was in Pune, and unfortunately, I wasn’t able to attend it. So he entrusted me with some responsibility. I had to enter his home, and decorate his bedroom for his new bride while he was away. I told him I would be happy to do it, and that I knew how important these small gestures were. The problem was, I would have only an hour to do this.

This was the plan. His uncle would enter the house and let me in. Exactly in an hour, my friend would be entering with his new wife, and in that time, I had to finish all that I wanted to do and make sure I exit the place. He told me this on Thursday night. The execution was to take place on Saturday. I thought I would have Friday evening after work to plan and get my act together. What do you know? Friday evening passed in a blink. Anyway, here were his specifications.

- He wanted flowers on the bed, in the shape of a heart. (Yes, cheeesy! But it is what he wanted for her, so well..)

- He wanted there to be red heart shaped balloons and candles.

- He wanted to make sure I don’t stick anything, anywhere.

I wanted to do this right. I knew years later, this day would form an integral part of their memories. I was worried though. I am not a creative person by any means. Neither did I have too much time on my hands. I looked online, but found nothing suitable. I did the next best thing after that, I buzzed every single person who was online on my Gtalk list, begging them for some ideas. Unfortunately, none of them were free to talk to me.

I realised I didn’t have enough time to ponder now. I had to get going, and manage by myself. So I started by going to the guy who sells flowers in my street. I had ordered a kg of assorted flower petals the previous evening. I was to pick it up today morning. When I went there,  guy looked at me blankly and said he didn’t have it with him now, because I had not paid an advance the previous evening, so the order was not confirmed. I panicked. Dude, I didn’t pay you an advance because you didn’t ask for one. Duh! Anyway, I told him to get me the flowers, at any cost in the next one hour. He took the ‘at any cost’ bit a too literally, but never mind.

I then went to a few stores and picked up some things – satin ribbons, crepe paper, scented candles, a pack of heart shaped balloons and most importantly, an air pump to inflate the balloons. Post that, I collected my flower petals and went back home.

Here is when the drama began. I tried inflating the balloons using the pump I had. It wouldn’t work. My arms hurt with the exercise. I was beginning to panic. After multiple unsuccessful attempts, I tried to ‘blow’ the balloons on my own. The next half an hour was spent with me holding a balloon close to my mouth and using all my energy to puff into the goddamn balloon. It didn’t work. Instead, I was left coughing and spluttering. I must have terrible lung capacity. My chest hurt. I gave up.

I realised, only a balloon seller could save me. But where would I find one at such short notice? I ran downstairs, hoping to find one. But ofcourse, nothing was to come easy. I spent almost an hour, running on the streets, asking store owners if they had seen a balloon seller around in the area. Who would have thought they could be so important?

After an hour when I finally spotted one, I jumped in joy. Literally. I ran up to him, and bought about 10 big heart shaped balloons. Talk about embarrassing? As I walked back home, I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me, as I carried back the balloons. Some kids even pointed at me excitedly. Perhaps they thought I was a balloon seller myself.

Anyway, I did it. There were other problems along the way. Lack of time being the biggest. I was given only 30 minutes to do his room, instead of the expected one hour. I was seen talking to myself, standing on a ladder, cutting and stapling crepe paper around the curtain rods, laying out the candles and flowers on the window sills, tying the balloons in different places, arranging the flowers on the bed. It resulted in an achy back, but I am hoping it made them smile. Because the first entry to your first home is always special.

Unfortunately, I don’t have pictures of the final outcome. Here are some I took while I was still working.

 

One with no title..

I am known to carry huge handbags. I will go to the extent of saying that most of my handbags can accommodate half of my earthly belongings. I am often ridiculed for this reason. Today, I happened to carry one of my favourite bags to office. I had used the bag the previous night, and today morning, I didn’t have enough time to change my handbag. So I decided to take it along, though it isn’t exactly the office kind. Anyway, the point being, the bag is a favourite. It is an orange leather bag I bought from Paris. As usual, I was laughed at. They said the size of the bag makes it look silly. All my bags are big, but I spend a lot of time choosing them. I don’t go about buying big, frumpy looking bags. So no, I don’t think they are silly just because they are big. See?

If I remember correctly, it contains an ipod,  my wallet, my home keys, the car keys, a pack of dry tissues, a pack of wet tissues, a hand sanitizer, my lunch box, a book, random scraps of paper, a small water bottle, my sunglasses, 2 hair clips, and my jacket. Pretty awesome, isn’t it? If you don’t like it, I’ll just say you have poor taste. Hmph.

******

My home continues to be that black hole in which things mysteriously disappear. I swear, I am not making it up. So often, the sister and I have had conversations on the lines of, ‘Hey, you remember we used to have that blue tee with a red stripe? I haven’t seen it in months’. And then we go about looking for the missing tee for days, weeks even. Most times, we have no luck. I wonder, where do our clothes vanish? It is a mystery we haven’t been able to solve. Mint was visiting this weekend. He had left his white shirt behind in his last trip. While leaving, he asked me to get him his white shirt, so he could take it back with him. I searched, and searched, and searched. But the while shirt was nowhere to be seen. It had vanished. Disappeared into that dark hole. He couldn’t understand how that was possible, and we ended up having an argument. The shirt is still missing, just like the rest of the stuff.

*****

I am eating a bowl of dal and rice as I type this. I think my mom makes the world’s best dal. It is so simple, yet packed with such subtle flavours. I believe eating dal and rice is a way of soothing your body. All of yesterday, I ate a ton of rubbish. Maggi, pani puri, some pasta that was probably stale and some hard dhoklas. Today morning, I had a stomach ache. So we decided to treat my body with dal-chawal. It felt like telling my tummy, “I know I was abusive. I am sorry. Here, let this comfort you now’. Perhaps why they call it ‘comfort food’

What’s up with you?

I am an alien

I have a monster headache. As I stepped out of office and got into an autoricksha, I realised the racket on the road was going to kill me today. Drivers who just can’t seem to let go of their car horns must be on a mission to scale down our country’s population. They kill people by subjecting them to deadly levels of noise.

Horn OK Please? Did I read that again? Your incessant honking is causing me acute trauma. My heart rate is shooting up. I suppose my nervous system can’t take it either. So, no. Your bloody horn is NOT okay. Oh, I forgot. You want me to die.

It looks like most Indians are addicted to their car horns. The horn is a device that is used mainly to allow the driver to vent his frustrations. And oh boy, frustrated they are. Want to show that other driver you are pissed? Go ahead. Just don’t release your hold from the damn horn. Let your eternally blasting horn kill others around you.

Oh wait. Nobody else seems to be dying. I am the only one wincing here. Right. I believe the horns are audible only to me. When I am on the road, my brain registers the sound of a horn once every two seconds. The loud dissonance enters my system, making my insides spin. But when I am at the wheel, and I honk, hoping it clears my path, it has no effect. Other drivers around me do not react to the horn. Pedestrians do not move. Hawkers do not move. Oh maybe they are all aliens, unable to hear or perceive sound. Or maybe I am the alien, the sound of horns is audible only to me. The present cacophony doesn’t seem to be causing any other deaths anyway. Yes, that explains it. I am an alien. A dying alien.

 

 

 

 

Small world and all that..

“So you know? It used to be great fun. BFF#1, D and I always hung out together. We were a team. I miss those days. I don’t know why D disappeared from our lives after school. BFF and I often talk about her. We’ve tried contacting her several times..”, I went on. I was telling Mint about D, who used to be a very close friend of mine at one time.

He interrupted me. “Wait. Are you talking about DC? I know her!”. I was stunned. Surely, he was mistaken? That must be another DC he was talking about. How can he be even remotely connected to my school friend? We’re not even from the same city. Our social circles come from two different planets. Anyway, turned out that he did indeed know my school friend. Don’t ask me how. Small world.

‘It is such a small world’ has been a recurrent line in my life. It looks like everybody I know seems to know everybody else I know. It is not fun. Because it means, all details about my life are out there. Facebook is not helping. I find ‘mutual friends’ every time I happen to look at random profiles of random individuals.  And then I am left wondering, how does she know him?! The fact that I do look at such random profiles is ofcourse, irrelevant.

The theory ‘Six degrees of separation’ makes complete sense. And by that logic, I understand that these things happen to everybody. But why does it seem like they happen to me a little too often? Even in the blogworld, I find myself dealing with these eerie connections. For example, we discovered that Mint and her husband, TS, have known each other from their college days. Another time, we discovered that my BFF happens to be her cousin.  And another time, we discovered that Mint’s grandmom, happens to be a neighbour of hers. Phew. See what I mean?

Today, I happened to be in the midst of a casual discussion with my boss. Same names were taken, and I discovered that she knows my ex, also known as the Monster Boyfriend. I tried to not choke on my coffee. The result was an awkward cough. Dammit, I’ve burnt that bridge a lifetime ago. I don’t want any such connections, thank you. I sneaked out of her cabin as soon as I could. The first thing I did was message Mint, saying ‘The boss knows my ex’. He replied back with a ‘LOL’. Sigh. Sure, that helped, Mint. Thank you. I wish the world was bigger.

I had so much fun!

These 16 days of daily writing have been thoroughly enjoyable. I didn’t officially sign up for any blogging marathon. I only tried writing everyday, wondering how long I would last. Now, I believe it would be best to break the continuity.

I feel a little sad, because unlike what I believed, I didn’t ever run out of content. I saw others around me, fretting over ideas, racking their brains and searching for blog worthy material. Me? I always had something to say. I think I have an opinion on pretty much everything.  I feel for pretty much everything. Combine my opinions and my emotions and the result is a never ending monologue. There were days in which I wanted to put up more than one post, because I was so full of thoughts.

I can’t go on anymore because I feel too stretched. I stay in office till late. I can’t blog from work. I come home miserable and cranky, carrying other burdens on my shoulders. Putting an end to daily blogging makes sense.

I must admit, there were days on which I felt very guilty for writing everyday  There are so many people who have subscribed to the blog. They get posts delivered in their mail. What if they got annoyed with my daily posts? What if they thought I was spamming their inbox? What if they cursed me? And then I told myself, they asked for it! I shouldn’t find reason to feel guilty.

Anyway, thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for being there. I had a wonderful time. And I do hope to do something like this again. For now,  I am still here. I still hope to blog regularly, but I don’t think I can continue blogging daily anymore. This was good fun while it lasted. Ta for now. See you around.