The post that shouldnt have been

I know a couple of people like that. Who dont like celebrating days - the day she was born, the day we met, the day Ram killed Ravan, the day Jesus came back... who believe that celebrating something on a designated day actually takes away from the occasion. Celebrations should be spontaneous, they say (or i imagine they do, havent really asked), not turned on and off by the calendar.

I couldnt understand why they analyzed so much. After all, how often would you spontaneously go through the bother of making 10 different kinds of sweets or treat 15 people to dinner? Punctuation marks inn what would otherwise be a really long sentence.
(How do you say did you see that? did you see that?did you see how clever i was? without actually saying it?)

Until of course, i caught the same disease. A milder strain, to be sure, but the disease is the same. I dont like mass distributed happy messages. Okay, maybe i dont dislike them, but I do think they are quite meaningless. All they really say is that you are in the sender's address book. (okay, i admit there is a corner of my heart (that i would like to disown) which is glad of even that). Its almost as impersonal as Airtel wishing you a Happy And Prosperous New Year!

Given that half of the people who currently read this blog actually sent out Happy Diwali messages, i wonder why i even wrote this. I mean, given a choice between being nice and being honest, i pick nice. Always. Its so well established in certain circles that people have stopped asking for my opinion on the new cupboard they have bought. Not that that is such a bad thing, me not being a particularly interested or competent authority on cupboards anyway.

Who knew blogging could bring out the nasty in me!

About Aditi

Khabar Nahi is the new Aditi. Like Aditi, it can pick me up from bottomless hells, telling me everythings gonna be okay. While Aditi did it with the words, with the music, with the voice, this one does it just by being.

Of course, it might turn out that the fool is singing it to his sandwich. After Aditi turned out to be about a cat, nothing will surprise me.

Cat!

P.S. After the 25th hearing in 3 days, i have to regretfully admit its not in the same class as Aditi. The lyrics dont make the cut.

P.P.S. Anyone here mad enough about that series to guess where that last Cat! came from? A cat that could have been named Micheal.

Milestones

Sometimes you have to look back to know how far you've come.

I came home today to a rearranged room. The "library" had moved in and the only occupied shelf in it was finally filled not with raincoats, not bills, not orphaned bits of clothing, but books. My books. Stuff that I had bought. Bought. Put a big smile upon my face. And i knew, the only person who would really understand that smile was me from 10 years ago. I wanted to go tell her, look, we did it! Just stood there for a while, drinking it all in. For the first time, i wanted a photograph on my blog. Something to say i was here. Did a quick scan and realized about half of them were SF. Of course at this stage of my addition, what surprised me was that half of them were not.

I just hope that somewhere, me at the fag end of my 30s is dancing with excitement, wishing she could come and tell me the same. Which would be really something, because now, where are the dreams?

Will my world ever come around?

My first time was an accident. A friend, her sister and me were supposed to go catch DCH. We met at the theater and found that the tickets had sold out. Now what? Black? I was too chicken to go approach them. My friend, on the other had, had moral or rather parental objections to deal with. (Remember times when the two were the same? Sigh. Simpler times.) But i really badly wanted to see the movie. So she approached them for me, got me a ticket and left. And that is how it came about. Me watching a movie by myself. It felt like such an adventure, i couldnt wait to do it again!

The second time the gang at my old office had decided to watch Catch me if you can. Work came up and I had to ditch at the last minute. They liked it a lot and told me what an idiot i'd been to miss it. So one fine Sunday i took myself to Inox to watch it. But this time, it wasnt fun. The novelty had worn off. Plus, life had a lot more people in it and i kept feeling sorry for myself at having to be there all alone.

That would have been the end of my solo movie watching career if life hadnt decided to go barren again. I really badly wanted to see Jab we met but couldnt find people to go with. By now i'm sure you know how this goes. But the difference was, this time i had a fantastic time! It helped that i liked the movie, it helped that by this time i'd discovered caramel popcorn, it helped that i was highly amused at having bought the last row last seat ticket, but it went beyond that. I felt complete, relieved, free. To unashamedly enjoy the movie, even the cheesiest parts. To laugh out loud. To get lost in the movie without being distracted by the people i'd come with. To cry. (yeah, i do that embarrassingly often. Dont even get Veer Zara anywhere close to me) But the best part? I didnt have to do the walk. The walk from the movie hall to the parking lot. That is a walk so pregnant that one moment is all it takes to give birth to an embarrassing silence. (did i just say that??) A good movie for me is something i live through. For those 3 hours, it is my world. And when we are walking back, i'm somewhere in between the two worlds. A little lost. What words do i use to describe that look, that silly joke or that meaningless gesture that spoke so much to me? We havent really been watching the same movie. Not all movies do that. Crap ones are easier to deal with. You trash the jokes, trash the songs, trash the story and why... there is your trusty two wheeler, your means of escape!

The latest one i did on my own? Dark Knight. This one i wanted to see by myself. Almost everyone i knew had already decided to like the movie and i didnt want to watch it with their expectations. (Coincidentally, Bhai happened to come to the same theater, same show with a friend for his fourth viewing of the movie. Given his strong views on people who watch movies by themselves, it is to his credit that he didnt refuse to recognize me!) The movie? Was OK. I spent the first half mostly obsessing over the popcorn i'd decided to abstain from. Gave in in the interval. Spent the second half alternating between feeling thirsty and guilty. Now tell me, would you have liked to watch it with me?

But will my world ever come around to thinking its okay? To watch a movie by myself. To eat in a restaurant by myself. To cycle to work. Climb trees. Play badminton at "my age". Be stupid. Just be myself, even if that means i dont fit right into the slot the world has created for me.

He's the dude

He was one of those dangerous people who are soft, squidgy and cowlike provided they have what they want. And because he had always had what he wanted, and had seemed easily pleased with it, it had never occurred to anybody that he was anything other than soft, squidgy and cowlike. You would have to push through a lot of soft squidgy bits in order to find a bit that didn't give when you pushed it. That was the bit that all the soft squidgy bits were there to protect.

Douglas Adams, in Dirk Gentlys Holistic Detective Agency

How does he do it? How does he look inside and come out with just the right words? And how come with words like squidy and cowlike, it is still so perfect?

Back to one liners

Bhai sniff Germany sob Higher Studies baaaaaaaaaaaawl.

With problems like these, who needs a life?

So a cat gets into my cupboard today morning. I am awake but trying my best not to make it official when it is discovered, so the details are a bit hazy. I can hear Mom requesting/scolding/threatening/poking it with a very long stick so it comes out. It, on the other hand, is just saying meaow.

Come out, you cat!
Meaow
What is it? Why wont you go? Shoooo!
Meaow
Yenna aachi idhuku? Yen poga maateingarudhu?
Meaow
Come on, i'm poking you with a stick!
Meeeeaow

Dad helpfully shouts out from the bathroom, asking her to give Hindi a shot. Everyone suspects the reason for the stubbornness but none of us wants it to be true. It is sitting on top of lot of my clothes, so the evidence no one wants to see can very easily be not seen. I finally make it official and go say hello to the guest. Dont even look at the stick. Someday i'm going to have to grow up. I can see myself not liking it.

And then we see them. A bunch of kiddie cats, all snug on what would really go well here is something really cool, preferably branded, but since i dont know any names leave alone own anything, lets stick to the truth? something i bought years ago and thankfully dont fit into now. Mom gives up the stick in frustration. She knows when she is beaten, but she doesnt have to like it.

Its happened to us before. More than once. On the terrace, under the stairs, deep inside the under-side of the bed. We've hosted generations of cats mommies. In fact, i bet this one said her meaow world from somewhere within this very place she has come back to call her own. Our house is probably one of those family secrets that are passed down from mother to daughter. Given all that hostory, is it really asking for too much to expect her to pick a spot slightly more conventient for everyone, whats a little discomfort between family friends?

After the initial apprehension, we decide to live and let live. Which is when Bhai brings up the rats. Its all good, i tell him, she may not have to leave the kiddies to go looking for food. But i hope she has been bought up to wash her hands after lunch. Tere kapde kis lie hain, he sniggers.

We set up a watch. The moment the mother leaves to get food, i raid the cupboard and gather enough stuff to last me for ten days. A minute is all it takes. That has to be the fastest i've ever decided on what i'm going to wear. Now as long as the rats have sense enough to stay away, i'm okay.

I can see this becoming one of those stories that every kid from now on is bought up on. One that teaches them about the dangers of un-closed cupboards. Its certainly going to live for ever in my family. But the moral i take off the story? Two, actually. One, dont put all your clothes in one cupboard. In fact, better not put them in any cupboard. Two, have too many clothes. You never know when a needy pregnant cat will come knocking on your cupboard.

Update: She and family left us for the neighbour's stair landing last night. I dont think we'll ever live down the shame.

Subeh ke sapne...

My phone is in silent mode. Which it never is.

It buzzes. Which it never does.

I hear it. Which i never do.

I look at the name on the screen. It says King Khan. Which it never does.

I answer. I hear that irritating Airtel voice that usually tells you to not waste any time in downloading completely "free" ringtones at Rs 6/min. It says - Befirkar rahiye! Is number se aapko call aa hi nahi sakta! [Followed by something that amounts to - so kindly go back to your loser life]. I let the message repeat a couple of times, just to make sure I'm hearing right.

And then the King answers. Only, the voice is yours. Which never happens.

And then I'm awake, a relieved grin on my face. Relieved because this wasn't the weirdest part of the night. No, there were dreams within dreams and when i woke up from one dream into another, i had to decide whether what had just happened was real or just a dream. And if it was real, OH MY DEAR GOD, i had to deal with it.
The grin because i know you wont be flattered.