Monday, January 30, 2012

One more about trains. Please excuse.

I do love Bombay. As much as I try to convince myself that I don’t.

It was so cold today. Way too cold for Bombay standards. Bombay is not behaving herself and has gone and clandestinely crawled into the walk in freezer in search of ice-cream even though her daddy didn't allow her to have any.

The train was very crowded. I managed to get a place to stand near the door. The sun was shining into my face weakly, trying to reassert its strength amidst all that cold I told you about. Women behind me were talking loudly abut their in-laws. This piece of Trent Reznor awesomeness started playing at its beautiful frantic pace on my iPod. Shuffle really gets it right sometimes. I held on to the overhead handle, closed my eyes and saw the the rapidly moving landscape cause the deep red behind my eyelids explode into a flurry of dizzying shapes and silhouettes. I had the sun as my strobe light. I was so happy.

It felt like a scene from a movie. Full intense music plays, the girl closes her eyes and has a doozy of a revelation and then she goes and tells her parents that she is moving out of home to fulfil her lifelong dream of opening a flower shop and then she meets a prince-person and gets married off while her expensive clothes billow gracefully in the breeze.

But because this is me, the train soon stopped and I stepped on the platform and a crow did its business right on my head.

Saturday, January 21, 2012


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.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

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.