So.Much.Maggi.

Years of experience with Bombay locals have taught me that every journey is a battle, to be handled with fortitude, confidence and absolute disregard for peoples toes. Your elbows are your best friends and your trailing dupatta your worst enemy.

Today my usual train arrived just as I ran breathlessly on to the platform. Equipped with knowledge garnered after 6 years of train travel, I took careful aim and rapidly catapulted myself into a compartment before the train could stop fully and twirled gracefully to execute a perfect landing near the opposite door, where I leaned comfortably, turning to face everyone else. In my head, I gave a little curtsy to what I was sure was my dumbstruck audience, which would largely consist of ladies scrambling frantically to get in.

The compartment had 4 ladies in it. 3 more got on after me. 6 eyebrows raised themselves at me. That was my cue to sit in a corner next to one lightly snoring girl and sink deep into my oversize sweater.

**

Yesterday I saw a very paavam looking 3 legged dog. It seemed sad. I bought some biscuits and gave it two. It ate gratefully and looked at me. I gave it some more. It came up to me, licked my leg, let me pat its head and went back to eating. It was like a thank-you. Heart broke only. 

I want a dog. Gimme.

**

For the past few days I've been waking up thinking I'm still in hostel. Biting winters, drafty corridors, all that maggi. The different songs playing in each room all mingling to form a pleasant white noise. The unbelievably shrill laughter from a room down the hall. 5 girls in a messy room, talking about giraffes.

This is my happy place.

Because even the Terminator wala Arnold fellow was once called Chotu. Maybe.

My office has finally gotten around to giving me a 2012 calendar. I have proudly kept it next to my computer and circled this month’s holidays on it. The January page happens to inform me in squiggly blue and grey letters that "Well arranged time is the surest mark of a well arranged mind."

With cunningly cunning foresight, I had already thought of this way before my calendar took the liberty of telling me. *drumroll* I had bought a yearly planner. Such grand plans I had. I will make to do lists, I will arrange my appointments properly, I will get so much done! Productivity FTW and all that. I started by noting down some birthdays that I can afford to forget only if I want a month long guilt trip. With this preliminary prep done, I got down to "planning".

Unfortunately, all this comprises of is noting down what to google for and download after I get home. The only indication that this arranging time business is working is that every morning, when I reach work, I dutifully set aside a few minutes to cancel what I was supposed to do the previous day from that page and add it to todays page.

From February onwards, I shall work on “taking charge of my attitude” because the squiggly letters command me not to let someone else choose it for me.

**

A few days ago I showed my parents the Benny Lava video. My mother was the epitome of :|. My dad laughed so hard I thought he would cry.

Then again, my dad watches nothing on TV but the news and Mr. Bean. Because he’s awesome.

**

My baby turtles are full comedy. The one I named Bazooka is an introvert and tries his best to hide under a giant rock at the first sign of movement. The one I named Nano because he was so minuscule when I got him is slowly turning into a tank. He tries to eat everything he can see, which includes air bubbles, the filter in the tank, my fingers and Bazooka.

One never stops panicking and one is a turtle shaped vacuum cleaner.

<3

May the four be with you.

I wish I knew graphics and animation, for the sole reason that I could actually make whatever my thrift shop of an imagination throws at me.

Yesterday I was staring at the number 4000 in a contract. In my head, the background turned white with swirls of black. The horizontal line of the number 4 curled into a finger, beckoning those zeroes to come to it. In a trance, they obliged. Poor silly blockheaded zeroes. One by one (zero by zero?) they approached the 4 and the intersection between the horizontal and vertical line turned into a mouth which devoured the zeroes, one (zero?) at a time. And then, there was 4.

See. Wouldn't that make a great 10 second Youtube clip?

Booyah.

Ba-dam-bam Bombay.

Imagine if Bombay were a person. She'd be a girl. A very whimsical, musical, charming, unhealthy, chain-smoking girl.

The highways are her arteries, the bylanes her capillaries. The traffic flowing endlessly over the roads are like the blood flowing through her. And every traffic jam is a blood clot.

Bombay needs serious amounts of heparin, yo.

***

Parle G is just a cheap biscuit to most of India. But for people who travel regularly on the Western line of the Bombay locals, it's much more. Just after Andheri, the pervasive smell of Parle G wafts over the tracks and makes all those people who were too busy to have breakfast extremely hungry. People don't need the train announcement, they always know when Parle station is coming up just by the smell.

I wish the smell was sold as a deodorant. Or an air freshener. I'd totally buy it and spray it in the compartment at random intervals and confuse everybody as to where exactly they were.

***

After the recent auto strike, getting an auto has turned into stressful task #1 in this place. But I'm seeing an interesting side effect. People are nicer than ever before. People look around and offer to share autos with whoever needs it, without being asked. People have become shameless in asking to be dropped off to places on the way. Absolute strangers, brought together by faulty meters. I invariably end up sharing autos with sweet old uncles resembling my dad who never let me pay the fare.

I foresee a Bollywood movie where the lead pair meet like this. Auto-matic pyaar ho jayega.

***

Recently at work, I've had to face my biggest fear on a regular basis. Microsoft Excel. *shudder*

The following comic demonstrates my feelings on the topic. Since my caricatures look like insects and my stick figures look as though my characters have been hacked at by chainsaws, the famous chuck_gopal has provided his excellent illustrations. Click to enlarge. Enjoy.

Cheese.

I've developed the endearing habit of staring into space and dreaming up grisly situations wherever I am. In my own head, I am the Akshay Kumar of all things unexpected. A sudden durghatna. Shock. Horror. Need for quick thinking and quicker action. I so cool. So brave. So awesome.

It's a slight downer to realise that I shall never have the guts to do anything but scream loudly and flap my arms about if anything actually happens.

My time nowadays is divided between monotony, gruesome daydreams, castles in the air and grilled cheese sandwiches. The castles in the air are all different. Some have flags that wave gaily in the air. Some are actually situated on islands in the air by means of cool new technology, Firefly style.

All of them have sandwich makers.

Anything can be made into a slow motion short film

(Happiness)

Last night, I was presented a freshly made sandwich.

"Mmm", I thought, "What a delight. Let me bite into this with great pomp and splendour."

And I did just that.

(Drama)

Just then, a hot tomato peel unwound itself from a tomato slice and landed squarely on my bottom lip. It was very very hot. Jump up and down and shake head to dislodge it kind of hot.

(Suspense)

But, unknown to me, this tomato peel was from a tomato slice that was from a tomato that was from a tomato plant that had grown from a tomato seed that had been sat on by a leech just after being sown. This soon became increasingly apparent since the tomato peel was exhibiting astonishingly leech-like abilities.

(Tragedy)

After all these shenanigans, my lip was purple and swollen

(Bittersweet ending)

It is a day later and my lip has now healed. It is now, however, unnaturally flat.

(Conclusion)

I should get around to writing my acceptance speech for the award for Most Ridiculous Accident Ever.

Washing powder Nirma

Have you ever tried remaining in one bedroom for one solid month with one solitary special joy trip to the living room? Have you? No, not in the fun way.

It is not nice.

There is a jhinchaak orange and blue colour bedsheet on my bed with over-happy flowers on it. Very nice and jarring. But I might have cabin fever. So everything is appearing a dull uniform shade of beige. The flowers are turning into little squiggles and intermingling. Sexual reproduction of flowers, who'd have thunk it?

No one is understanding this dulling of colour business. It's as though I am in a Rin safedi ad and I'm the idiot who doesn't use Rin soap.

Rin soap should be made a metaphor. When life is dull, whatever brightens your day is your Rin soap. Love life lacklustre, dorling? Have no fear, I shall be your Rin soap.

Everyone's Prince Charming and Knight in Shining Armour has his undies washed with Rin soap.

I am not being paid by Rin for writing this post. Too bad too.

How YOU doin?

So I've been away a while. And I've faced an onslaught of complaints. People grumble about why I haven't been blogging. They beg me to write. They express their sorrow at the lack of Google Reader updates. Very soon, I foresee a crowd gathering underneath my window with placards and candles, in an attempt to appeal to my sensitive side, just so I write something. I'm here only because I want to save the paper that would have gone into making those placards.

Alright so two people asked me why I haven't been blogging when I have all this free time.

I had a small accident and have been deemed out of commission for a few months. I had to lie in bed with a 3kg weight hanging from my leg for a month. As a direct result there is now a giant Punvati shaped dent in my bed.

Another direct result is that my parents are utterly freaked and are fussing over me like no one has ever fussed before. I implore you not to envy me. This just means I am on a 3 month chicken hiatus since the parentals disapprove of my animal consumption habit. That hurts more than my leg does.

I bought a Nook and am currently in lust with it. I'm reading like a woman possessed, apart from the times my family takes it from me and keeps it just out of my reach so that the invalid me can't get at it. I have a funfun family, yes?

I have started reading the Marvel X men comics. Last night I dreamt I was making out with Cyclops on Magneto's asteroid. This dream was the highlight of my week.

The maid we've hired to help my mom lug me from bed to dining table likes watching Hindi soaps. I'm totally digging why the evil mother in law with all that kajal is yelling at her sniveling bahu about making them lose the grand saas-bahu cookoff challenge. This is the shit.

I <3 him. I do. Go read his blog and tell him you <3 him too.

There's a heaven above you baby.

I’ve spent 5 years in college. It feels like a lifetime.

When I first came here, I hated it with an unhealthy passion. And then I discovered the people. Some I always disliked. Some I should have avoided to begin with. Some I got to know and like as late as the last month of college. Some, though now estranged, taught me what love and unconditional friendship were really like. And some have been my family and support group and, at times, the only reason I had to wake up every day.

College has been a place in which I could be sad with other people or sad all by myself with an option to step out and be offered a hug, a pep talk, a ridiculous dance or a joint to cheer me up. Where being different was not punished. Where I reached more new highs and lows than I thought were possible. One large comical community that gave me sympathy, understanding, arrogance, unnecessary lip and puppies in equal proportions.

My batch of 80 odd people graduated 2 days ago. Most people are staying back for a few extra days, a little more time to hold on to this dream life we've been living here. Where rules really are meant to be broken on a daily basis, where independence is abused and where relationships with people are overtly and fiercely intense.

A few people leave each day, and it feels like one large dysfunctional sugar cube immersed into a glass of water. People are going away, the real world must be returned to. After growing up and learning and loving and discovering oneself in this little bubble, it’s going to be strange.

As a good friend recently said, I will just have to take the crazy and spread it wherever I go.

Good luck to everyone.

The food court is my Mecca

As an intern I silently sit, staying late and working hard, hoping to answer all questions put before me, to submit said answers in record time, to find every possible authority needed to answer said questions. My googling skills are relied on and stretched to scary limits. Staggeringly heavy books from the library are pored over. Documents are typed fast, proofread, neatly spaced and justified.

Sitting in one chair for hours on end awakes in me a feeling that I have often felt over the past few years of college. That feeling of wanting to take flight and traveling to places far away, to see great and majestic things, to lose oneself in the jubilant freedom of it all.

That, I feel today as a lowly intern.

I believe the term for this is wanderlust.

Everyday, I will my seniors to require something to be printed and then graciously offer to get it from the printer. I consume copious cups of coffee because of the ten second walk to the pantry, where the coffee machine is located. The loo, of course, is a favourite destination. One need never explain why it is frequented so often.

So for those who want to dive into waterfalls, who want to bungee jump off cliffs into the breathtaking void below, who want to sing with all the voices of the mountain and paint with all the colours of the wind, this is for you.

I feel you man.