Happy Old Year

I really wanted to write about the new one. With the million changes it promises to bring, there is no better excuse to make a new beginning - break out of old habits, start something new. But other the certainty that for this one to be truly different, I have to be different, i have nothing more to say. So i will take the lazy way out and write about how the old year was new.

- I went abroad! For the very first time in my long life, ladies and gentlemen. It was great, unforgettable in a lot of wrong ways and some right ones. And whatever happens, it'll always be the first :) My bag with our passports got stolen (it was only the second time my bag was stolen but if you'd heard my dad taking to the dude afterwards, you'd be forgiven for thinking i was some kind of a serial bag loser).

- I learnt to talk to strangers on the phone. This has terrified me all my life, i go to great lengths to avoid it. But we were (are, actually) looking to buy a house here and that involves a lot of scouring the newspaper and internet for ads and calling people up. When we started out, i would mark the interesting ads and then hand them over to the dude to do the actual calling. Now, if he had responded to this delegation with - You are the best for filtering out the ads, baby, i'll take it from here, i would never have learnt. Instead i had to pester him into calling, fighting all sorts of excuses (its too late/early/rainy, i'm not in the mood, who wants to buy a house, i am not calling people up from the loo. Eh? Whats the big deal in that?) So i had to learn to be self reliant.

- I lost both my grandmothers. I dont know, maybe because of the distance and the fact that neither of them were particularly capable of talking on the phone, in my head they are still around in Pune, waiting to be stupidly happy at the sight of a grandchild. And tell her for the 100th time, without taking the slightest offense to the fact that she doesnt listen, to wear some bangles and bindi and at least try to look married. I know i said they lived full lives and i feel sad but not cheated, but given what 2013 is going to bring, i wish they'd been around.

- The kitchen and I got used to each other. We are not the best of friends, but this year we certainly got better at tolerating each other's presence in our lives. Next year, one of the things i'd like to do is to turn this uneasy relationship on its head. Given my looming unemployment, time will certainly not be a problem.

- The car and I also got used to each other. The car may not see it that way yet, my co-passengers may not see it that way yet, the driver in the parking lot who sees me struggling to park and comes over to help may not see it that way yet, the dude may never see it that way, but its true all the same.

-  I did not shine at work. This is new, while i have never been been the brightest star or anything, i've always managed to make my place and be the king of it. Here, its been a year and i am still trying to be really good at something. Its not a nice feeling, particularly because most of the time i also feel underutilized. And scary because i dont know why i cant fit in. Am i in the wrong pond?

There might be more, but sleep calls. I dont think i will be awake to see the new year arrive. Apologize to it for me, will you? I had a wild night yesterday, staying up till 10 past 12, reading The Left Hand of God.
 

Random

The dude's brother is getting married in Feb. This is the first time that i got to see first hand, all the behind the scenes stuff that goes into getting a marriage arranged. Even though most of it was in Telugu, it was damn interesting! (Or maybe i filled up the blanks in my Telugu knowledge with the most interesting interpretation). The girls side had come with large numbers and a well coordinated plan of action - we didnt stand a chance! Go girl power! (i realize i am not on the right side to be saying that, but you get it, right? Right.)

The kindle is back in our lives with a bang. We have actually fought over it, if you are one of those people who gifted it to us, you will be happy to note. But mostly we get along fine because we more or less live in different time zones these days. I sleep by 10 at the latest, and what does with the kindle after that is none of my business. He is reading the Foundation Series and is at the last book (after which he has to go back to the first two).

My friend P saw a book at some airport (The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared) and read a couple of pages. She then sent me a mail from there, asking me to check it out. She thought both of us would love the writing style. I LOVE getting unexpected mails like that. While i was checking it out, i wondered how she was so sure i would love it - i never am. But then i read a couple of pages and HAD to buy it. It was hilarious - in just the way we like. But it was also for 600. I am still not comfortable spending that kind of money on books, so i pestered the Dude into giving me "permission" to buy it. He made a half hearted attempt at asking some questions (how many pages do you get for 600, how are you sure you will like it) but then gave up and walked away. I took that for a yes and bought it. I am almost done and will unhesitatingly recommend it to anyone. It IS hilarious. The dude's brother started reading it on our trip to Chennai, trying very hard not to laugh out in the train, dont ask me why. So now we have 3 people fighting over the kindle.

The office gym has gotten much much better and now has two good treadmills and one spectacular multigym. Its all i ever needed in a gym, and yet, i cant get back that regularity with which i used to go there when all it had was two sad treadmills and two ellipticals. Still, it makes me sad that i have less than a month to make use of it, before i become jobless and gymless.

Because no one at work or home appreciates my sense of humour

One fine evening i am at a discussion a few places away from my desk at work. I have not locked my screen, i never do. The perpetrator (hereafter known as the perp), who has a fetish for unlocked screens, sits at my desk and sends out the following mail from my Outlook.


Sub: Party at my house tonight!

It’s potluck. Bring your own booze!

Please RSVP, we will arrange transport back later in the night.

More details to follow.

Vinaya

He is mighty pleased with his work. The effect of which is somewhat dampened when no one - not one person RSVPs. (Let me not think of what that says about me). A little while later, my manager replies from home.

What? That's way too short a notice Vinaya - no fair!


To which, this guy, sitting very much in the office, replies.

Manager, you are missing a really good party. 


The next morning people ask me about the party and crib about the short notice. I send out the following mail.

Thanks for turning up in such large numbers, even though no address was given. And for ALL THAT BOOZE – my in-laws were most impressed!

And finally, though he couldn’t make it, thanks Perp, for stirring it all up. We missed ya!


People still ask me about the party. I show the mail trail to the Dude and i get a 'hmm". That is what i get from him for most stories. And keep getting it until i say - and they all lived happy ever after. The end.

And they lived happily ever after. The end.

Life updates

Lots has happened and is happening and will happen and i am here after a ridiculously long break to leak some of the happenings. Many a times during the break, i wondered why i dont feel the need to blog anymore. And the best i could come up with was - because it doesnt function anymore as a release for all my angst. Although thats not really an answer because why not? Its not that the angst has gone away. Maybe its that i've gotten good at locking it up in a corner and moving on with life.

Anyway. Now that my passport and Visa are safely with me (or will shortly be), i can declare that we - the Dude and I - will be moving to the US! For 3 years, though no one believes me when i say that. Lots of back and forth and confusion later, the finally plan is to move there in Feb. And i will be jobless from Jan. Yikes! When i was jobless before (between the last job and this - just for a month), i was extremely frustrated, terrified and whatnot. The dude couldnt understand why, and my big mouth told him its because there isnt enough to do around here and if this was the US i would never ever complain. Well, now we shall see. This bout of joblessness is likely to last longer than a month, but i'm hoping at least some of the coping mechanisms i carry in my head will work. If it doesnt, i will start a day care and make my cousin send her kids to me!

Getting the passport is a long an interesting tale that involves a lot of stories that cannot be attached to my good name. The Visa interview on the other hand was a non event. I will be going as a dependent, and the Visa officer didnt ask me a single question. Not one thing! I cant decide whether to be happy or insulted. How many times had i mugged up the name of Dude's engineering college and place of birth? And prayed that they dont ask me if i plan to work there, because i cant say no and shouldnt say yes? But - nothing! Our visa interview was at 8.30 in the morning and as usual my biggest fear was what if i get hungry in there. So i carried a bag of food. The guard saw my bag and asked me - where is your child? I told her the food was for me. She was not amused and asked me to get rid of it :( Other than that and some questions about the passports I lost, the whole process was smooth.

Thats it for now. Toodle-oo!

Transience

Why are life’s moments so fleeting? They never come to me in slow motion, wearing a pretty dress and twirling around so I can admire it from all around. Its always like I am watch them whizz by sitting in a train. I barely get time to register that something wonderful has happened before I’ve moved on to the mundane. Sometimes I think we should forcefully pause life and celebrate the good things. Like the exit of things that have finally been kicked off the TODO pile, where they had taken roots and had grand kids. Like things falling into place so beautifully, better even than your imagination. Like even maybe birthdays. Or Thursdays. But then, shouldn't the event itself be enough? Does the after party give meaning to the victory?

Spectacular things have happened to me and around me this year,  and I sit here and wonder, how big does something have to be, before it registers in my life as something more than a happy blip.

Break ke Baad

Not that anything spectacular happened. Either to justify the break or the return. Right now though, i have viral fever. Its got to my nose, my throat, my head and, i am ashamed to admit, me. So i turn to this old friend for comfort, hoping we've known each other long enough to accommodate long silences.

Whats up? More passport woes, for one. Every year the dude's office takes them to some nearby country for an offsite*. Last year, we couldnt make it because of passport issues. Cells in one corner of his head knew the offsite dates and cells in a totally different corner knew when his passport expired. When the twain met.... well, it wasnt pretty. He ran around and got his passport done  but it was too late.

This year, i went and did that thing to our passports. So when the time for the offsite rolled around, neither of us had our passports ready. But, and this is the unfortunate part, we had hope. So we gave our names for the offsite and went chasing our passports. Its less than two weeks to the offsite and both our passports are stuck in police stations in our respective parts of the country.

When i was travelling from Bangalore to Pune (for this passport** nonsense) i reached the Bangalore Airport with time to spare and went to the Shopper's stop there. There was a sale, okay? And i saw a maroon top and it fit and it was awesome and i bought it and in my excitement i left my purse behind. Yes. I didnt realize it until i reached Pune and caught a rickshaw to get home and got home and looked for money to pay the driver. My mom paid him and i went in and tried to remember where i'd seen it last. I remembered and called them up and they said yes its here and we will courier it to your address. Yes. Then they later called up and said they've given it to the lost and found people. Which was fine. Only i had no money with me so that was weird. I wondered later what would have happened if my passport had been in the purse. There would have been one suicide followed by at least 2 attempted murders.

Now for something completely unrelated to that P word. My mom has gone back to work. I dont think i can tell you how monumental that is, but let me try. Even if i knew that that Mayan prediction was going to come true, 2012 would still be the year my mom went back to work.





*Dont be misled by how casually i said that, like its no big deal. When i first heard of it, i refused to believe it. Especially considering that in my old office, we used to pay our way to some nearby local park. Good times, all the same.

** That word again! I think i have lost the ability to converse without bringing it up.

Pop goes my July

So one of the things that was rotting on my plate for a very long time is no longer there. Thats not a good thing, in case you were wondering. Its a "na rahega baas na bajegi baansuri" kinda solution to the problem, which is not what i wanted. At all. I want to hit myself on the head but i cant, and the dude is being all understanding, so will someone on the Internet please reach out and hit me one, thanks?

So, what do i do with July? With all the discipline i worked up? One option is to go ahead and do what i was going to do anyway, doesnt matter if there is no urgency. The thing is still important. But without a proper finish line, i dont know if i can run the race. I read somewhere that the most important thing about a goal is having one. But as of now, thats the plan.

What i did go ahead and do, is start the celebrations :D Saw Spiderman yesterday at a friendly theater nearby, which still has a "stall" and you can buy a ticket and go sit anywhere. Its awesome, its very near to home and you can just go buy tickets anytime, no advance planning required and its "cheap" and all the crying children around just add to the experience. With Ice age 4 and Dark Knight rises and Abraham Lincoln vampire hunter all due to release this month, i think we will get a monthly pass. I also bought this book from Amazon to read on the kindle.

It'll be nice if i can include discipline as part of my life, rather than having to pause life for it.

This is Juuuulyyyyy

(I know that you know. But that’s my new war cry, and don’t tell me the Spartans didn’t know that “this” was Sparta).

July is the month where I become a super-efficient machine and get rid of all the stuff that’s been rotting on my plate forever. July is the month in which discipline is my, do I say it, oh what the hell, bitch. The month in which I lose weight, the month in which I get rid of the devils that torment me, the month in which I bring out that legendary self-control that hasn’t shown its face in a while. It’s a month in which I am not likely to get much time to breathe, but that’s okay because come August, I promise myself the following:

-          A trip to someplace fun

-          Buy one book to read on the kindle a month. I cant believe I actually have to make myself do this. I thought I’d have to stop myself from ODing on the Kindle, not to mention custodial fights with the dude. Turns out stuff rotting on my plate puts me off reading.

-          House hunting. Every damn weekend.  Other than the time I am on a trip.

Yesterday was good. Today slightly less so. Tomorrow, its still Juuuulyyyyy.

Of grannies past

I was in Pune a couple of weeks ago to say goodbye to my last granny. My mom’s mom. Who had lived next door to me for the past 25 years, who was the most alive person I knew, who was no more. The last time I was in Pune in March, I was there to say goodbye to my other granny – my dad’s mom. Who was granny cool, even though you wouldn’t know it to look at her. Why in 2012 life woke up and decided I had an overabundance of grandparents, I cannot say, but as of now, I only have one left.
I am sad, but I am not bitter. dGranny lived a happy and full life. With occasional visits to the hospital, of course, but she didn’t cry wolf too many times. A few months ago her entire brood – 4 children, 8 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren gathered under one roof. In her own quite way, she went nuts. Wouldn’t stop smiling. That is how I remember her, sitting on the bed in my aunt’s home in Pune, green saree, big smile.

mGranny, who had too many interests in life to ever get bored (reading, music, TV, stitching), had been almost bed ridden for more than two years. Slowly, she gave up one interest after another. 6 months ago she fell down and fractured her leg and was completely confined to her bed. She was so afraid of falling off her bed, she made my mom tie a saree to the window and would lie on the bed all day, holding on to the other end. From carrying around 2 phones by different providers to make sure she could reach people whenever she felt like it, to not even be able to talk on the rare occasion I called, life slowly ebbed out of her.

In both cases the daughters were the primary caregivers, and so i felt, more than ever, the stupidity of the daughters getting sidelined in the A.D rituals, if I may call it that. I hope to live to see the day when common sense will be valued more than rules.

The armchair feminist

(because being anything more is very likely to get me kicked out of my own life. Which is, you know, tedha hai par mera hai.)

Every time i am involved in buying clothes for this little one, i am struck by the disparity in boy/girl clothing. For a hundred pretty things you can get for a girl, you will find one or two you have to settle for, for a boy. Some time ago i was predicting that within a few years, the cuteness of baby clothes will overwhelm people so much that gender lines will get blurred. Everyone will wear pink!

But then i wondered what if it had been the other way round? What if little boy clothes had been the cute ones? I can bet you anything, we would already be dressing little girls in them, crying about equality and whatnot. And do you know why? Because somehow, it is okay for a girl to look/dress like a boy, but not for a boy to dress like a girl. It is cool for a little girl to like trucks and guns, but embarrassing for a little boy to play with dolls.

Sometimes, just for this, i wish i could have twins - a boy and a girl. So that i can learn and show the difference between being equal and being same.

EU Diaries - Paris

Saturday. Morning flight from Rome to Paris. We packed up and said goodbye to the room and the kitchen and Rome. Just in time, since the kitchen had run out of clean utensils! Train to the station and wee bit of drama later, a bus to the Airport far far away. We landed in a Paris with 70% chance of rain. I had booked one of those places where people rent out a room in their home. We got there after buses and trains and walking, only to discover the following:

- i hadnt informed the host about our time of arrival
- i didnt have his phone number
- we didnt have internet
- i didnt have the phone number of my friends in Paris who had Internet

So basically we were stuck outside his building with nowhere to go. I should have either died out of shame or been killed in anger, but neither happened. The dude (who had switched into the costume of Mr Cool) asked every person who entered the building if they knew the host. We lucked out, one person not only knew the fellow but had his phone number and immediately called him for us. After some conversation in French, in which i am sure my good name was cursed quite a bit, we came to know that the keys to the house were in the mailbox and we were to help ourselves to it. The fellow would only return at 10 in the night. So we did, while wondering how people can give their home to people they have not even met over the Internet. We got in and found a long letter from the host that described all the various ways in which he had tried to contact us. And, the wi-fi password. I went online and discovered that the host had indeed tried all things to contact us. More shame, but not enough to kill.

It had started to drizzle and we were tired and not really in the mood to do much. But since we had only one day in Paris, we wanted to make it count. After many rounds of come-on-get-ready-no-why-are-we-going, we decided to call up my friends (P and S) and let them know we had finally arrived. They convinced us to get off our butts and go see the Eiffel Tower. Which i had always pooh-poohed at, but we went anyway. It lights up every hour in the night and P assured us it was a sight worth seeing. S also insisted we take the Seine river cruise afterwords.

We took the train and got to Eiffel tower. What amazes me is the ease of travel in all these countries. All you need to find your way is a map! For a direction impaired person like me, it is so... empowering! We reached there a few minutes before 10 and got to see it light up. It was.certainly worth it.Then we decided to go up and hang around. We were there till 12, so in all, it lighted up 3 times for us :) Since it was so late we ditched the cruise and got back home. Where the host was presumably sleeping but we didnt see him.

Morning was when we met him and he was very sweet about my whole stupidity. He offered to get us breakfast, but we wanted to "eat in Paris", so we asked him for directions to a good cafe and the Louvre and got out. The cafe was awesome, i wish i wish i wish i had had a few more croissants! Then to Louvre, where the entrance is free every first Sunday of the month. And this was the first Sunday of the month. Free stuff! That meant a mammoth queue, which almost scared us off. But we had nowhere else to go so we went and stood in the line. Took us 2 hours to get in. The louvre? Is great! If only they could have posted descriptions to what we were seeing in English, we would have been there much longer.

We got out in a couple of hours and got back home and met up with my friends. P i had met on her brief bangalore visit a few months ago, but i hadnt seen S since their wedding. We sat in the same cafe and recounted our adventures and talked some about the good old days when the three of us used to work together.

Time to leave. We went back to our room, where the next guest had already settled in. Picked up all of our luggage and left. Took a long train to the airport. The dude had by this time got back to his usual self and was fretting about reaching on time dont ask me why. We got there with plenty of time for duty free shopping as well.

We got onto our flight which would take us to Delhi. It had so many moves i wanted to see! Why cant i ever book a day time flight where i can watch movies from the time they let me to the time they let me? I cant wait to go on a really long flight to a really far away place! Only, after this one, i think we will give foreign travel a break.

EU Diaries – TGIF!

Friday morning. The day of the exam. The two of us are engaged in last minute revision. We should ask her this, we should carry that. 8.30 comes and I get to make the phone call. I HATE making phone calls, but I’m trying very hard to be an adult so I pack off my hate and pick up the phone.

Me: We are blah blah, do you have any news for us?

She: Yes, I have news for you. [Big pause, in which I die a million deaths}. If you come by 10.00 I can give you by 12, if you come later also no problem, I can give you by 3 in the afternoon.
Me: [Showing a thumbs up to the dude, who seems supremely unconcerned] So, we are getting our Visas today?
She:  Yes
Me: Thank you! [And then some incoherence].

I dance, the dude fights with the Internet for a ticket to Paris. I drag him away from his fight and off we go to the embassy. By this time we have figured out all the buses and all the stops. We make big plans about what to do the rest of the day. The Vatican, at walking distance from our hotel,  is at the top of the list. We run into the Swiss Embassy at 10.10. She shakes her head and says – “you are too late, come back for your Visas at 3”. Say what? We cant even hang around at the embassy because they shut for the public at 12 and getting inside after that is complicated. We give up and catch a bus and a train back to the hotel. Where I make lunch while the dude continues his flight with the Internet.

 

We leave early for the embassy. Who knows, at 3.01 she might say – you are too late come back on Monday. That would be good for her health. We reach there at 2.40 and are very proud. I go ring the bell and she says through the phone– “but I told you to come at 3, please wait outside”. Gaaaaaaaaaaah. We wait under a tree right outside. There is a woman lying on the bench opposite to ours, book in hand, soaking up the sun. It feels weird to catch a glimpse of a world not ruled by Visa issues. We stalk the dude’s watch and right at 3 go ring the bell again. We are reluctantly buzzed in.

 

Visas! We thank her very much. I have been wanting to give her chocolates since yesterday, but all that nitpicking about time has dampened my gratefulness a bit. All said and done, she went out of her way to help us out, so hear this Swiss Lady in the Swiss Embassy in Rome, you are awesome!

 

We get to the Vatican and look around. Its simply… fantastic. I don’t “get” paintings, and I certainly don’t know the story behind the scenes they depict, but I can still spend hours there and not be bored. We climb to the very top of the tower and are greeted by a great view of the city. We walk back to our hotel, to dinner and pack up.

 

Its time to say goodbye.

EU Diaries - the Swiss Embassy Day

Woke up and caught the train to catch the bus to the Swiss embassy. Yesterday i had looked up the bus number, route, stops etc and we had got kinda lost. After telling me in no uncertain terms that i am useless at maps and directions, a thing i think he took personally given what he does, the dude took it on himself to plan the journey. Go to station A, catch bus B, get down at stop C, turn left and walk 20 steps and whatnot. And then we went to station A and got onto bus Z and got lost all over again :D

We walked into the Swiss embassy and told this girl there our sob story. She took some time to understand why Indian tourists were in the Swiss Embassy in Italy. Then she tool all of our documents and came back 20 mins later to tell us that since we were dont with the swiss leg of our journey and were going to France, we should ask the French people for a Visa. We had to convince her that she was our only hope. Very reluctantly she took in our papers and made copies of every one of them. Did you read that, Indian Embassy? She said she would try her best, but it all depended on whether the Swiss Consulate in India sent her the information she needed. Dude had asked Bhai to contact the Swiss Embassy in India, so we knew they were ready and willing. "Call me tomorrow morning, and i'll let you know if you if you need to come", she said. We paid up the Visa fees and got out to a fine Roman mid-morning.

Next stop - the French embassy. We wanted to know if there was any chance we could fly into France without a Visa. They said haha.

We then went to the Pantheon and walked from there to the fountain of Trevei and had gelato there (much hyped, IMO). Got back to the hotel, had slightly better Upma for lunch and then just lazed around. In the evening we went to the Spanish steps. Got back. Pasta again. By this time, the dude had discovered some huge knives in the kitchen and was lost to all useful activity. Some childhood show, it seems, where some guy comes and does funky things with big knives. He went at all vegetables we had with the knife, i think that was the most excited he was during the entire trip.

All during the day, i had the pre-exam feeling in my stomach. I kept dreading the phone call that would decide whether we got to go back home according to plan. You see, the day was Thursday, tomorrow would be Friday and our return ticket from Paris was on Sunday. If we didnt get a Visa on Friday, we'd have to stick around in Rome till Monday (at the least) and look for other flights home and what not. The dude however, was fine. Better than fine. I dont know if he had a dream about it or something, but he knew that we would get the Visa tomorrow. For a change, i was the worrier.

EU Diaries - The Indian Embassy Day

(There is this Tamil play by Kathadi Ramamurthy (Ayya amma ammamma) in which the husband is forced to study for a promotion by his wife. Whenever they want to show that he is studying, they make him repeat - Indian Economy. Indian Economy. Indian Economy is the best economy. Because India doesnt have an economy. Cracks me up every time i think of it. Dont ask me why i just wrote that here).
Armed with lots of copies (the dude asked the hotel people to print stuff out for us and they did! Just like that!) and photos* which we got taken on the way to the embassy. The by-the-book guy had turned into going-out-of-his-way-to-help-you guy (except when he made us run around for xeroxes) and he pushed us to the front of the queue so we could submit our stuff right now and they could start working on it right now and give us a passport by 5 in the evening. Pretty awesome, no? Even if they charge you handsomely (actually, they charge you drop-dead-gorgeously), its great to see emergency procedures that actually work!
Off we went to the swiss embassy to ask for a Visa. Why? Because our return tickets were from Paris and we were in Rome and to get from Rome to Paris we needed a Visa but the Swiss people were the best bet for us since they were the ones who had given us our original Schenzen Visa. Whew.
We got down at the wrong bus stop and walked to the Swiss Embassy, which, at 12.20 in the afternoon, was done for the day. ##$$%^#&#!@. And then some.
We caught a bus back and then caught a train to get back to the hotel, had lunch, got a train, went to the Indian Embassy, where there were too many people being issued passports and everyone other than us was a Sardar and it made no sense but who cares WE HAD OUR PASSPORTS! We came out, danced a little dance, and caught a train to go see the Colosseum. Which shuts at 5 in the evening. Colosseum from the outside, Colosseum from the inside. Potaeto. Potaato. If you want to tell me its not the same, dont. I have it on the authority of the receptionist with the fine sense of humour that it is all the same. We walked around, saw the ruins from afar and got back to the hotel. Dude-made pasta for dinner**. It was awesome.



* Fun fact. The stolen purse also had the only comb we were carrying. So essentially, i was combless for 5 days. Passport photo? With uncombed hair. Visa photo? Why yes, with uncombed hair. Sadly, i dont think you can tell.

** I cut the vegetables, okay?

EU Diaries - Roman Holiday

So, Rome. We got out at the train station and straight went to enquiry to get a map and directions to the Indian embassy. Fortunately, it was walkable distance from the train station. But as we discovered, having to carry around 4 bags of luggage changes the limits of walkability. But, we walked. And reached this tiny hole in the ground type place (seriously, it is underground). The guy there at first seemed very... whats the word... by the book. Its too late now, why didnt you come sooner, come back tomorrow with copies of this, that, the other and your grandmother. Of course we had no copies of anything. We decided to go to the hotel and run our campaign from there. All the way, i kept praying that the hotel have Internet. It would make ALL the difference. I had booked the hotel and it not having Internet would make me feel more like an idiot than any person should ever have to feel.

We got off at the wrong station and dragged our luggage all over again, but finally got to the hotel. Where a receptionist with bad english but a fine sense of humour gave us our room keys and, wait for it, the wi-fi password! At that moment, only finding the lost passports could have made me happier. Or so i thought. We opened the room and found the following:

- an extremely well equipped kitchenette
- bunk beds

Suddenly, life was looking up. Its when the big shit goes wrong that you appreciate the small stuff. We contacted and recruited our respective brothers for finding copies of  whatever they could find copies of. (Those two should be given something for all the trouble we put them through. Listen, you two, if you ever lose your passport (please dont! but if you do), rest assured that i will make for you all the copies any official ever wants you to make.) The dude made upma for dinner. It was bad but it made me very very happy.

We went to sleep early. Tomorrow we knew would be a long day.

EU Diaries - Where do i begin

(getting this out in parts, since i have given up on being able to chew it whole)

Let me start by telling you what we saw in Rome. In order of appearance, the Indian Embassy, the Swiss Embassy and the French Embassy. Some Italian &^@%!^ stole my handbag on the train from Milan to Venice and that handbag had both our passports. [Pause for effect]. So. Most of the time in Rome was spent in persuit of new passports and Visas. Our hotel in Venice was the worst possible under the circumstances – it had neither a phone nor Internet, so we couldnt reach information and people with information couldn’t reach us. We finished off Venice in one evening (walked to St Marks Square and got back on a Vaporetto) and reported early Tuesday morning at the police station to file our report.

The policeman started out looking like a man with an attitude but turned out to also have a sense of humour. The dude was filling out the forms and hesitated while filling out my birthday. “Isnt he supposed to know that”, asked the policeman and even air-slapped him a couple of times for me :D The keys to my suitcase were also gone with my handbag so basically I didn’t have any clothes to change into. We asked him for a plier and broke into our own bag, with the policeman looking on encouragingly. By which I mean of course that the dude went at it with the plier while I looked on in awe.

With the police report we pushed off to Rome. I felt happy and light, I thought we were at the end of all the troubles. HA!

EU diaries - day 0 and 1

Yes. I am in Zurich in a hotel typing out this post. However, as my alarm says every damn morning - lets start at the very beginning, shall we?

The dude had some official stuff to do in Zurich and he said why dont you come along, we will make it a Europe trip. That was it, that was the starting of the madness. I sqeeed and sqeeeeed, mostly because that would mean my passport would finally have a stamp! And then we got about planning the whole thing. Plans, i tell you, they suck all the joy out of things. Where to go, how long, what to see, transport, stay, food (vegetarian for two) - madness. If he didnt have to go for the office thing anyway, i swear we would have given up the whole thing. We started off with very ambitious plans involving lots of visas and three very excited friends who were very excited to see us and whom we were very excited to see. That didnt work out, so we decided to stick to Switzerland, Italy and France. My very excited friends have vowed to forever hate me for ditching them, for which i am grateful. On the other hand, France has some very excited friends too :)


Day 0

Packing done?
Nope.
Supplies?
Nope.
Money?
Nope.
All of that and much much more, is day 0. After running around (on a Sunday, mind you) in search of banks that will give us a travel card, we finally decide to get Euros at the airport. Bangalore Airport guy says he'll give us a Euro for 75 rupees. We turn our nose up at and decide to get some at Mumbai, where we have stopover.

Mumbai airport, domestic terminal. 77 rupees for one Euro, he agrees to come down to 76. Wth! Mumbai should have more demand and more competition and so better rates no? Evidently, no. We decide to get it at the international terminal.
Mulmai airport, international terminal. 77 rupees for one Euro. We decide to get inside the airport.
Mulmai airport, international terminal, inside. 77 rupees for one Euro, take it for leave it. We take it.

Mumbai airport, immigration line. I am scared, i feel like i am standing outside the principal's office, waiting to be called. I get called. He studies my papers, and asks me - first time? I nod with an excited grin. Going to open a swiss bank account, eh - he says. I laugh, half because that is what one does when the principal makes a joke, half because i think it is funny. Then i abruptly stop and ask him nervously - did i pass? He nods and hands over my passport. I am in!

Mumbai international airport, loo. There are few things in this world that make me feel as inadequate as those automatic hand sensing taps do. Why dont you open? It is my hands? Are they not at the right spot? Are they too... transparent? What? What? What?


Swiss air flight. Freshly minted Monday morning. I should be excited about crossing the borders, but i am completely distracted by all the movies i can watch! I CANT PICK! I settle down to a documentary about FaceBook. Somewhere in there, we cross the border. When the dude points out a map on some screen on the plane, we are flying over Pakistan. Halfway through the documentary, i fall asleep.


Day 1

Zurich. Chilly, but nice. The dude leaves for work, i am mostly left to my own device. I hang around the room, eat my breakfast for lunch. The time difference confuses me all day. My stomach decides to deal with the confusion by feeling hungry at both the time zones. I keep eating all day. I glance out of the window and see the sun has come out and the road is sparkling! I get out for a walk. Cause major confusion and cursing at a zebra crossing by waiting for the cars to pass through. By the time i realize that i, as the pedestrian, have the right of passage, around 10 cars have stopped, all waiting for me to cross. I run away from the zebra crossing.

Its the best kind of weather - chilly and sunny. On a circular bench near the hotel, this girl lies down on the bench, her head resting on her violin case, soaking up the sun. I look at her and a big smile is upon my face. I have always wanted to be unselfconscious enough to be able to do that. She sees me seeing her and moves her purse to a safer location!

Evening. We go hunting for dinner. The dude has heard that the city centre has good places to eat. Armed with a map, we go looking for the city centre. It is not to be found. We walk back, it is lateish but the sun is still around. The streets are almost empty, giving the city an eerie look. We spot a McDonalds on the way. Their veggi burger saves our life.

The dude tries trawling though the TV for stuff to watch. I give in to sleep.

A year

or thereabouts, since i introduced the dude on this blog (right, that is how she defines the event, not that she got married or moved cities or changed homes or got into a new family). I figured doing something on what kind of a year it has been is a good to break the silence.
(oh, and after this, stay tuned for breaking news!)
Its been... ordinary. Dont get me wrong, ordinary is good. Especially for two people who spent 5 years in different cities convincing the world and very often each other, that the sky would not fall if this happened - ordinary (conditions, of course, very much apply) is good. The sky has not fallen, world wars have not been waged and almost everyone involved has adapted and moved on remarkably well. Makes me wonder if sometimes we feed our fears more that we should.
On the other hand (there is always the other hand, isnt there), ordinary also means we havent done any life altering things we dreamed we would, if only we could get past the waiting. Mainly because we havent figured out what the hell that thing is. Also, life can keep you occupied very easily, so unless you explicitly set out to do things (with a vengeance, almost), they will not get done.

Except this. I am, right now, in a hotel in Zurich, typing out this post.


Edited to add: I realized i havent actually written anything about the day itself. Which was not the point, but could have found a mention! It was a good one. Last year this time we were the talk of the town, but this year not one friend remembered. Which is not at all surprising. As genuinely excited as i am about my friends getting married, i rarely remember their anniversaries. Relatives remembered though, almost all of them! I had left my phone alone for half an hour in the morning and when i got back to it there were 7 missed calls. That never happens to me, not even on my birthday! Relatives i tell you, rock hard when required.

The dude took me to a Reliance Digital store and asked me to pick the gaming console i wanted. My eyes grew wide and I grinned like mad and then ran away from the shop terrified. He almost bought me an xbox! Imagine! (Apparently, i can be hard to get, but damn easy to please). In return, I almost bought him an ipad. And we lived happily ever after.

Office tales

Inappropriate for you if you are too young or an old, impressionable relative. You have been warned.

There are lots of people from Pune in this office. (I still dont call it "my" office... hmm). Probably the second biggest demographic, after the millions of Keralites. Some discussion sprouts about the Chitale Bandhu near Deccan and as people join in, I discovered more and more people from my city. This one guy says - yeah i am from Pune, i even know Marathi. And then to prove that he really does, says - "Naahi kaka, daaru naahi, fakta cigarette peeli aahe" and i laugh. Someone asks him - what is fakta, to which he explains it means only (sirf). And they share this smile which i dont get at all. The guy continues - sometimes outside toilets there, you find a sign that says "fakta ladies".

It takes a few seconds for me to get it, but oh boy when i do, my world changes. Literally, I can never use that word now without giggling. It was just lying there all this time, waiting for the right pair of eyes to see.

"Gym" tales

The office has a gym. If you can call a room with two treadmills and two ellipticals that looks as if it was built for just that much a gym. I obviously can. This is the story of me and that gym.

A few months ago, my body was threatening to outgrow my most unflattering of clothes. I whined about it and the dude denied everything (he was glad of the opportunity to deny it in person, its sort of difficult to convincingly tell a person on chat – no, no, of course not, you are not growing fat). BUT, clothes don’t lie. So I decided to hit the above mentioned gym. But you cant keep yourself entertained for very long with just treadmills, ellipticals, a radio station that plays more ads than songs and a radio that goes silent every 30 seconds. So I improvised.

• I played songs on my phone. But it is difficult to keep up the tempo when Bob Dillan is asking you in that tone– How many roads must a man walk down…
• I tried aerobics on the gym floor. To radio ads. Not fun.
• I tried using stuff lying around the gym as weights. Worked brilliantly for a while. These metal things that are used to wall mount TVs? Very good for bicpes and triceps! But then someone had to come and mount the TV. 
• Which was good! So many channels! Non-stop songs! And so much increase in general knowledge. The storage layer in my brain now accommodates Chikni Chameli, Jalebi Bai and Disco going Anarkali. How else could I have met these delightful people?
• I raided the room next door for potential weights. Drums – nope, chairs – nope, drum stool – yay, Cisco APs – double yay! Took two of them. And giggled all the time I was exercising with them, thinking about what I used to do with Cisco APs in my past life. Feedback to Cisco, if anyone is listening – those white APs you make? Not so good for biceps. Put on a couple of kgs and then we’ll talk.
• Next day the drum room is locked. So I look around once more and spot the weighing machine. The one that consistently shows my weight as 23 kgs (damn it, did someone buy the moon-weight machine again?) I pick it up – perfect for biceps!
• I try filled up water bottles, they start out okay, don’t work so well after I have drunk half their weight.

I proudly reported all my innovations to the dude, who, probably in a desperate attempt to stop further conversation on the subject, told me to lift his nephew* for biceps. Which I couldn’t, he is too heavy, what with all the milk he has. Finally, the dude threatened to buy me a box of weights. Which would be really weird, I mean, imagine me dragging a handbag, a laptop bag, a clothes bag, a shoe bag AND a box of weights from the car to the gym. I begged and got a couple of days from him to see if I can make better arrangements. I mailed the office facilities and they said they’ll have the weights by the end of the week. See?? Poochne mein kya jaata hai!

From Monday, it’ll be back to mindless gymming. Who knows though, if someday someone forgets to lock the drum room…

　

*That little fellow may be growing up on the weirdest lullabys ever. After singing ba ba black sheep in all variations I could think of (Ba ba pink sheep, yes sir yes sir, 7 bags full. Ba ba the sheep still ended up distributing 3 bags full only, my head cannot do the distribution math AND sing at the same time, it can however generate a random number between one and 10), I was found singing the national anthem to him. He got all patriotic and "stood" in attention and refused to sleep. People laughed. I don’t know any songs – I whined. Whats wrong with Sheela ki Jawani – the Dude. I ignored him and sang Saare Jahan se Achcha. Even after I had assured him that Hindi hai hum (3 times) and vatan hai hindustaan hamara, he refused to sleep. I had a nagging suspicion that the problem may not be with the content but with the delivery, but I killed it.

Lessons (i wish) driving has taught me

Sometimes when someone right ahead of you is driving as if the road belongs to him, honk! It is very possible he isn’t aware he is blocking you, it is possible he is a nice guy and will move, it is of course also possible he is an ass and will ignore you or that he is doing it on purpose, but poochne mein kya jaata hai?
(Mera poochne mein bahut kuch jaata hai. It is surprising the lengths to which I will go just to avoid asking. )

Its only when you drive a two wheeler after you’ve been driving a car for a while, that you appreciate the freedom and flexibility it gives you! I have become a much more effective "activa driver" since I started taking out the car. Reminds me of this story my mom used to tell us. Maybe I should re-visit bikes, now that gears are not the scary things they used to be.

(Anyone wants to volunteer their bike? Dude’s bike is ancient and requires special handling and Bhai’s bike is huge and also requires special handling).

And lastly, second gear is the man! I have no idea of the broader applicability of that lesson in life, but in driving, it has made all the difference. I am a better driver because of it. Last week for the first time I had a non-family passenger in the car and he didn’t jump off the car or close his eyes and pray or anything! He just sat there talking and giving directions and though I haven’t officially asked for his feedback, I hereby declare another milestone crossed.

Dress the part

(Look who is back! Angsty Aunty – say hi and tell her you  missed her, wont you?)

If you must crap all over my life, I don’t know why you must but I’m sure you have your reasons, can you please not be so nice while doing it? It makes everything much simpler if the bad guys come with an eye patch and an evil laugh and sinister background score. I simply do not know what to do with people who stand squarely in my way, don’t let me go ahead and then with genuine concern feed me so I don’t feel hungry. Until I can get super powers enough to reform the bad guys or beat them to pulp, can they please dress the part? Thank you.

Car, tissues etc

(Random writing again, but how many posts can you call random and what would be the point?)

Car driving goes well (people actually asked me, and here i thought no one cared. sniff). I had gotten pretty comfortable with the whole thing, stopped being a hazard as well as a nuisance, when i realized i was still driving barefoot! Time to cross that bridge, one tiny step at a time. Day 1 with socks - no big deal. Day 2 with chappals. And i went back to being a nuisance - all late starts and jerky driving. Why am i on the bridge at all, i wondered, whats so wrong with driving barefoot? I tried and failed to think of emergencies where i would have to drive with footwear on, or the world would go to pieces. But i guess we are programmed to see things to completion, so i soldiered on. Day 3 was with shoes. Much better, contrary to expectations. Monday i should try military boots?

I have a big problem with the casual use of tissues. Especially to wipe wet hands, i mean can you imagine the waste? Every time someone washes their hands, they waste paper. I see myself becoming some kind of Hermione, starting a Society for Prevention of Overuse of Tissues that no one cares about. Until one day, right in the middle of a world threatening emergency, a certain someone washes his hands and doesnt use a tissue. And we forget the world and live happily ever after. Oh wait, i'm married now. So its going to have to be the dude who does the deed.

My inner voice (by which i just mean the voice in my head, not my conscience) has now occasionally started talking in Telugu. Which is bizarre since hello, i dont understand what it is saying! Its been almost a year since i've been surrounded by Telugu speaking people speaking Telugu, and yet i think i understand about 30%. I never imagined i'd be so slow in picking up a language. Although, i have almost the entire cipher text in my head, the day i find the decryption key will be the day i know it all!

A nice round number

Today I turn 6 bits old.

WTF.

What a good book can do

My reading has gone down considerably since you know what happened and i moved to Bangalore. I might have mentioned somewhere that the dude found a stack of Science fiction/Fantasy books that i drooled all over. Turns out i might have spent more time drooling than actually reading. It started off well, i finished The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and it was good. Then i moved on to Stranger in a Strange Land, a book i had heard so much about, an author i had heard so much about. I was prepared to love it, even if that meant changing the meaning of love! It was... boring. Not that it didnt have its moments, but the signal to noise ratio was too low, and all the signal got over pretty fast. I trawled through it and then moved on to The Windup Girl. What with the Hugo and all, i'd wanted to read it for ever. But, it was taking too much of effort, and instead of reading becoming relaxing and invigorating (yes, it can be both at the same time), it became something to check off a list - did i read something this week? Tick.
Some neurons in my head decided to go all dramatic, and proposed the theory that maybe the problem is not with the book, that maybe reading doesnt mean that much anymore, that maybe you know what has changed that too. (i know, no one proposes theories with so many maybes, but these are my neurons, for me sometimes, even my name is Vinaya, maybe).
One fine Wednesday afternoon at work, i found a book lying on my neighbours desk. I cant pass a book by without investigating, so i picked it up. Saw the name Papadimitriou, remembered a professor from long ago mentioning him, and maybe even a textbook, and opened it to find a comic book! It was Logicomix - a comic book about the search for a solid foundation for Mathematics! I took it to my desk, and that is all i did for the rest of the day at work - read it*. Somewhere in between, i looked up, smiled at the world in general and felt really glad to be alive. That is what a good book can do.



* Do not ask me at what stage i got so comfortable with the new surroundings to be able to do something like that in full public eye. I have a hundred justifications as to why i did it, but even after 5 years at the last workplace, i couldnt have done it there. Maybe you know what also gives you a thick skin!

Baby on board

Nope, not ours. Thought we've recently done the 9 months so that wouldnt be so much a scandal as a surprise not to mention, well, never mind. The dude's sister has had a baby and he is home! In all his pink glory! We got him all kinds of pink stuff too, thus throwing in our lot with this little girl.

All he does so far is
- sleep at the wrong time
- wake up at the wrong time
- distribute all fingers he can find all over his face. At ant given point he usually has two in his mouth, one up his nose, one trying to dig out his eye and a couple inside his ears. As if, if he doesnt hold his organs together, they will leave him and run away.

But. I love little kids., always have. (Ask her, i dreamt of their kid being a musical prodigy and singing patriotic songs before i even saw him). Plus, i get to be this little one's maami. When i was a little kid, maami == fun. She taught us games and sometimes even played with us when no one was watching, who gave us birthday gifts, who i was surprisingly comfortable with, given how awkward i was around most others, probably because she lived next door for most of my life. Unfortunately, these folks have a different naming convention and so, though the dude becomes a mama, i become an athai. Not that there is anything wrong with athai, athais are fun too, but i am already athai to 3 kids (all of whom call me by name, but you dont know that, do you) and this is the only kid in the universe who can call me maami. My master plan involves bribing the kid until he calls me just that. Or Vinaya.

I wish he would grow up enough to have a name. Until then he be Babloo* to me. And then grow up enough to smile. And crawl. And walk. And talk. Basically hurry up, become interesting and then stay there!


* If you are the dude or Monu or anyone who studied under Anne Joseph Madam at KVGK, shut up about the history of that name, will you?