Not in the fulfillment of...

   I was listening to a podcast yesterday when the speaker said something poignant. He said you can heal, only if you feel. Now, having worked with and on myself for several years, I know for a fact that when we're faced with some of our biggest pain points... it can be incredibly tough to face it head on. To sit with the feelings of pain, loss, etc. To acknowledge them and give it space and time to accept. Usually, we choose to numb ourselves with distractions. Binging on food, alcohol, partying, recreational drugs, gossip, videogames, and the list goes on and on... 

 While I feel that, to a certain degree, one should allow oneself one's method's to unwind... Problem with us humans is, we rarely know when to strike a balance. If it's deciding to start exercising, then either being unable to find the motivation after the initial burst of enthusiasm, or going hard for 7 days a week, only to try and feel the pain in our muscles instead of addressing a soul cry. Eating disorders, negative self image issues, anxiety... all of these stem from us being compulsive about our lives. Because we're so disillusioned by life after a point, that we'll do everything to avoid it. 

 When we're in our teens and are given the illusion that surrounding yourself a bunch of friends is going to make you feel good. And so we do. We largely buy into that and think that being popular is going to bring us that happiness. Then as we make our way into adulthood, we're given to think getting that no, it's actually that well paying job at that amazing MNC which is going to do it for us. Life's going to be set, yeah! ... Only to realize the hollowness of that statement in a year or two. Then of course we have our amazing capitalistic economy that can be counted on to tell you that "Hey! Buy this and you're going to feel amazing!" "Wear this and you're going to look the best you have in years!" "Eat here, it's happiness in a box!" ... No. No, it isn't. Then we're pressured into doing things by this annoying, all comprehensive invisible bubble called Society. Ah, society. Wonderful society. That insists that there's an age for everything. Everything... Graduate at this age, get a job at this age, get a spouse at this age, pop kids at this age and then let the cycle perpetuates itself. I mean... I am so sick of the banner of happiness being waved around in children's' faces by their parents (who themselves were sold onto this rubbish by their parents, for whom none of this has brought happiness in the first place) and yet here we are. 

 Strange how we keep pursuing one thing after another and we're too far into the quicksand when we realize that neither did the previous desire being fulfilled give us the long term happiness we were seeking, but here we are. In this perennial chase. And then just like that, we die one day. 

                                                                       ***

 I had a bit of an epiphany yesterday as I sat in my balcony. I have been wrestling with some feelings of inadequacy myself and was just sitting and trying to be in the moment of watching the gentle sun's rays while I could hear someone mowing their lawn in the distance, and birds doing their little 'cheep cheep' simultaneously... And it was as if something dawned on me that I hadn't known all my life. It was what Oprah would call an 'Ah ha" moment. I realized that true happiness, which I'll call Joy... Isn't of the mind at all.    

Now I know maybe to some, this statement might not make sense, and to others, it might be a fact they've known all their lives... But to me, it was a 'Well slap me silly and call me Sally' kind of moment. Because... if happiness isn't of the mind, then what is it of? That's something to think about. But at least it sorts out the mad scramble of the next thing that will bring joy-- Going on that vacation will bring joy! The next trinket will bring joy! That monster milkshake will bring us joy... We only think it will because the mind keeps us in the illusion of 'Next! Next! Next!'...

So I'm going to leave you with that thought. That true joy, is not of the mind. Because true joy is not transient. True joy cannot be an absolute quantity. It just is. 

Tough things to work through...

   I think once you're in your 30s and in what society deems as 'in the thick of things'... one isn't quite given the time and space to deal with life's deeper issues and traumas we've faced up until then. It is only now, thankfully that going to therapy and having shrinks is normalized but (at least in the way I was raised and what I saw among the elders around me) everyone was just expected to keep their chin up and carry on with their life. 

  But that's the thing see... Traumas get carried on. We pass them on either to the next generation or pass it along through our friends like it's their burden to carry... Maybe I should come directly to the issue at hand in what I'm trying to say. As a victim of sexual harassment, who has been molested at the age of 15, been groped, brushed up against, stared at, cat called, followed home... it was only while sitting on the couch a little while ago, and having a rather heated discussion with someone close that I realized how little some people understand of the extent of sexual trauma people face. And how that isn't addressed properly for years, or in some cases, a lifetime. It is of course extremely unfortunate when (some) people use their victimhood for their benefit (read: Depp- Heard case or what we know of it) but a lot of times, what victims of abuse need is just their voice being heard. And acknowledged. Hoping that society will change its ways, and for perverts to stop being perverts, is a big ask... But having someone listen, without judgment, without giving justifications like "oh it was just the alcohol," "oh they're just socially awkward so booze makes them like that," is like me saying my monthly hormones make me want to punch someone in the face till they bleed. Every month, and that it's fine, it's just the hormones" ... It's not fine. If violence makes the recipient uncomfortable, shouldn't it be the same for the recipient of unsolicited sexual overtures? 

  If I were to punch someone in the face every month, would I be given leeway and would people look the other way and say "oh but she's had a hard life, she doesn't know how to deal with it" or would someone just call the cops on me? So if I'm being touched, or if someone's trying to force a conversation with me, or attempting to hold my hand (all in a social setting, in the guise of being "friendly") should we all look away and put it down to the perpetrator having a tough life, or that it's the fault of the alcohol, or call them out on it?

 The more I see of the world, the more I realize that it's the external wounds that get most attention. That's why we live in this superficial world. That oh, only cause it's a bruise, you've been abused and have the wound to show for it. Or oh, if you have the proof of the torn clothes, only then something majorly wrong has been done. But if it's fine on the surface, what about the wounds on the inside? Can a dab of Neosporin or some stiches fix that?... 

  No, but maybe a listening ear can. Someone who wants you to stop hurting, can. When they support, instead of combat. When they don't challenge your feelings of the events. When they don't jump up to give "the other person's point of view" ... I understand relations need to be maintained. I understand not wanting to upend something precious built up over the years.. But I also know harboring pain, shame, guilt and hurt don't benefit either. Only when you're fully healed can you fully use a grievously hurt arm/leg. So only if you're fully healed from past traumas can you move past the mental pain and anguish. 

  I was watching an episode of a series from one of India's greatest epics.. and in it, a queen's modesty is severely compromised. This event is a catalyst that eventually leads to one of the greatest wars mankind ever fought, with a lot of bloodshed and lives lost... But there was that queen some 5000 years ago and then there's us in the 21st century. Nursing same (similar) wounds, harboring the same pain but the only difference is, there's no one to fight our wars... I hope we can heal from our traumas, teach our kids to be better than us, have more empathy and definitely sympathize with someone who's been through things they themselves have no experience of. 

Thoughts on a Tuesday afternoon...

   How to articulate things about life that no one prepares you for... Like how does one prepare for the death of a loved one? How does one become self aware? How to get over compulsive behaviors? How to set boundaries without severing ties? How to derive self worth outside of productivity...

  These are juts things that I'm typing out, off the top of my head. But really, with months and years of observing people now... I feel like we haven't come as far as we'd like to believe. We like to go by how far we've made it in the science and technology fields, and there's no doubt we've made progress in leaps and bounds in that sphere... but as humans? In just our everyday interactions.. what are we like...

  Forget geopolitics and even what's happening on national level (that'll make for another discussion altogether) ... just looking at how we treat each other. As friends, spouses, family... heck even ourselves. What is our relationship with ourselves? Are we capable of being by oneself for extended periods (maybe a few hours, days or weeks--aside from  minimal contact with colleagues for work of course) Very simplistically, no. Because we'd drive ourselves crazy. Because we think we need social interaction to live a fruitful life. But that's my thing, see... We are sort of coming out of the pandemic phase, during which we had to keep our interactions to the minimal. So just as an example, taking the smallest unit of a family. Were we able to maintain (mostly) sane interactions with them? Now that we didn't have to deal with driving to and from office, that we didn't have to deal with that toxic colleague more than necessary, now that we had that "family" time we kept talking about like it was a pipe dream... Were we able to treat each other with respect and compassion or were we invariably irritated, frustrated and angry at them because we couldn't go out so we conveniently transferred/poured out our bitterness and annoyance on them? It is endless. The more we try to fix our external, the more we will struggle with our internal. 

  So that's my blogpost for the day. I hope to get better about writing more often but every time I make a grandiose comment about that, I promptly disappear for half a decade or so. So I'll just leave it at that. Thanks for reading :) 

Musings

Everyone's striving for it; 

Trying to get there through racing,

When all they need to realize is, 

It isn't in their pacing.  

It isn't in the outing,

It isn't in their spouse, 

It isn't in their wealth and friendships, 

What they're seeking without a doubt. 

It's in their breath, 

It's in their being, 

It's in the stillness within pauses,

It's being with the unseen. 

It's a mystery, it's a maze, 

It's a journey that's myriad,

If only it was easier.... 

But who is the author of the tirade? 

 

Our Puppy Champ

I wish I could begin with some eloquent quote about Dogs being man’s best friend or narrate a heart-warming tale of the magic a dog’s love can weave. Well. I cannot. I have a rambunctious puppy at home that has all but managed to send me to a mental asylum. He’s fun to play with, don’t get me wrong but he’s also managed to make my husband and me question our sanity and certain life decisions (such as adopting said puppy) at 4 a.m.

Let me introduce Champion Suresh Vance to you. He’s a frisky young 11 month old (the size of a calf) that thinks he’s as light as a feather when he goes and plonks on my husband’s lap. At such times, only the guttural sounds being emitted from somewhere beneath the mound of black fur indicate my husband’s continued, but laboured worldly presence. Champ is the sort of dog that takes pleasure in life’s little things. Like chasing after scurrying bunnies, (and now that autumn’s set in) he even runs after dry leaves that swirl in the wind. All this would seem adorable if he didn’t have a full fledged adult attached to him by a leash. I have to narrate one particular incident here, to demonstrate his behaviour that leaves one exasperated, and him well deserving of a thwack.

One chilly morning, when I took him for his usual early morning walk, I didn’t realise how cold it was, and that there were layers of thin ice formed on the pavement. After Champ finished his business and we were on our way back to the apartment, he spotted a couple of bunnies on the front lawn. Now, under normal circumstances, I’m fairly prepared for his manoeuvre of a lunge-tug-and-drag-startled-owner move. But not today and not on thin ice (!) To make matters worse, he jumped over a small fence to get to the bunnies faster. For anyone who’s lived in places where it drops below freezing temperatures, you probably know that water freezes easily on sodden wet wood. I didn’t. I smartly did the only thing I thought would make me rein him in- Stand with one foot on my sturdy fence and pull on his leash. Except that my sturdy fence wasn’t so much sturdy as slippery, because it had a layer of ice! And what would be my next course of action do you think? Instead of putting both feet on the ground, I went ahead and actually stood on the fence. All for a glorious 2 seconds before Champ gave one last happy leap.  Needless to say I landed face first into the nearest bush and ended up with more than just injured pride.

Champ for some reason, also has this ritual of running in circles as fast as he can, around our coffee table. He derives great joy in doing this but it results in shoes, magazines and unidentified objects flying pell-mell in the room. At such times it’s amusing to watch my otherwise reserved and sombre husband exclaim:

“Champ! Sit!” Only to have him continue to run wildly.

“Champ! Stop!” To have him to run wildly, with his tongue out gleefully.

“Champ! Heel!” To have him run wildly, with his tongue out and go skidding on our hardwood floor.

Champ’s foster mother has assured me that our dog WILL grow out of this lunatic-puppy phase and he’ll eventually stop doing things like diving for people’s crotches as soon as he meets them (much to our collective embarrassment), that he’ll stop giving unsolicited bear hugs to victims lying on the couch, and will actually listen, when we give him a command. Until then we have to put up with him being our designated alarm clock (that goes off at freaking 4 am!) our paper shredder and yet, our lovable warm ball of fur that lets us cuddle him.

Dosti :)

 If I were to ask which your favourite movie was, on friendship, I'm willing to bet that 9/10 of you will come up with names of films that either dealt with a bunch of guys who took on challenges for their country; Or went on a holiday to Spain/Goa, or a college-friendship-turned-love-story or finally, that yesteryear movie with two guys on a side car scooter. 

If you're in the 1/10 category, yes, to be fair, there have been movies about girls and their friendships, but they've more often than not, been veiled under layers of Dolce and Gabbana and Maybelline or had an underlying social message about being wronged by the male sex. Just how many movies give us a real idea of what female friendships embody? (No not lesbian, just pure strong friendship between girls.)

For the longest time, we've been fed rubbish about "Aurat hi aurat ki sabse badi dushman hai" (A woman is a woman's worst enemy) and it irks me no end when our friendships are spoken of in the past tense once a girl gets married and leaves. I know FB posts have probably gone overboard with their portrayal of everything a girl has to do for society, (men?) but my argument here is why our friendships are so underplayed and why are our equations and ties with the girls we love most expected to take the natural course of "...but that's how it is". 

One of my closest friends got married recently and as happy as I was for her, my heart ached at the thought of her moving cities to live with her husband and in-laws. Another childhood friend of mine can't make it for my wedding (Yeah, there'll be a whole other post delving into that subject) because of familial pressure due to the timing. In both cases, it took two more girl pals of mine to 1) Cry with me, on the night of the Sangeet about how we'd deal with life without our common bestie and 2) Explain that the poor friend in question is torn between her family and me and it's not fair to hold her at ransom for it.

Maybe the point of my post is to give you, my dear readers, an idea of my understanding of what long standing deep friendships between girls stand for. Or maybe (because of everything that it's portrayed to be) ... tell you what they DON'T stand for. 

They're not about sexy pillow fights on sleepovers: Yeah, sorry to shatter the illusion. We don't wear skimpy things to bed either. We're usually dressed in baggy pyjamas, loose t-shirts and all we do is binge eat. And belch.

They're not about taking duck-face selfies: Hell no. Even if we've been guilty of trying to do a pout, we fail so miserably that the next few selfies are blurred from the phone shaking so much while laughing.

They're not about excessive PDA: Except for a casual hug when we meet, girls do not blow kisses to each other. (Unless they're making fun of people who do) 

They're not about shopping: This has got to be a huge myth buster. Yes girls shop and yes they like it, but strong friendships (I don't believe) have been built on cooing about the latest discount sale at Mango. 

They're not about bonding over boys: Of course not. Just like there's a bro code, we have a woe code. Men cause us woes and we don't like getting our love lives tangled in our friendships. (Disclaimer: Cat fights over boys usually happen in movies.) 

And lastly, they're not about being politically correct: We call each other out if we're doing something exceptionally dumb, but join in the fray if it’s within the limits of acceptable stupidity. We also use expletives to address one another. None of those saccharine sweet nicknames. We reserve those for our gold fish, puppy, or boy friends'.  

So maybe our world isn't ready for full blown female friendships where the men in our lives work around our social circle (of forming cliques with our friends’ husbands') but I hope to live to a time when they do...  I'd like to end this post with one of my favourite quotes on friendship. "Nothing lasts forever. Dreams change, trends come and go, but friendships...They never go out of style."

Here's hoping every girl out there be blessed with buddies she's willing to die for because the best lesson this relationship can teach is that if you want a friend, you have to be one first.

Body-maiming

I confidently walked into one of the retail branches of a popular health and wellness store to pick my best friend up something for her birthday. She's the kind who keeps up with latest beauty regimes and is almost always fashionably well groomed, so I thought buying her a lip gloss here and a body scrub there, among other things, might make for sensible items for a gift basket.

Little did I know that on entering the store, I'd be ambushed by over enthusiastic salesgirls detailing and remedying everything in my outward appearance that was wrong.

"Ma'am why don't you try this DD cream to cover dark spots? You have some on your face"
(Ouch.)

"Ma'am this is a scrub with special crystals to remove blackheads."
(Uhh, okay. I didn't know mine were that visible...)

"Ma'am this is a skin whitening cream, it has got many good reviews"
(Your point is..?)

"Ma'am this sunscreen has an SPF of one million. Prevents darkening and makes you fair"
(But I don't want to look...)

"Ma'am this face mask helps to remove dead skin and gives you a glow"
(Oh my god, lady! I was born brown!!)

Then, they shifted gears.

"Ma'am this is herbal medicinal lip balm... For cracked lips"
(Gee thanks. Now I'll keep licking mine self consciously.)

"Ma'am are you looking for some shampoos? This is anti dandruff and hairfall"
(Are you seriously looking at my hairline?!)

I don't know what it is with marketing, these days. When I'd learnt about it briefly in college, I knew it was about enticing customers into 'wanting' to buy. Not belittling them by having these hawk eyed women swoop down on anyone who doesn't look straight out of a Vogue magazine. I understand  the concept of demand and supply in this biz, and that it is keeping pace with our looks obsessed society (I'm somewhat in the business of outward appearances myself, so I Know!) but I think there should be a limit to this (not-so) subtle form of criticism.

Then there are also women you encounter at the salon. I am of the firm belief that when you visit such places, you should feel pampered throughout, not have to brave comments like:

"Aapke baal patle hai." ("You have thin hair.")
 I've come very close to saying, "Toh kya karu? Ugaau?" Loosely translated: "So what, should I start cultivating some?"

There's also the "Aapki skin bahut oily hai, pimples bhi hain." ("You have very oily skin, and pimples too.")
Realllyyy? I've lived with them for over 2 decades and would have Never known!

And the cherry on the top (at least in my case) has got to be "Why don't you go in for a Pearl facial? It'll make you look fair.."
Make it stop! Make it stop already!

I will not understand why it is assumed that Everyone HAS to be discontented with what they look like. I'm not saying I'm supremely confident. I go through phases of feeling pretty ugly too, but it's not something I obsess over all the time. And anyway, there are far more important and justifiable things to feel under confident about (!)
On that (slightly) comforting note, I have decided that the next time I have a brush with these smart alecs who go off about every perceivable body defect of mine, I'll either arm myself with a baseball bat (Hello there, prissy glass bottles) or adopt the Zen philosophy of being relaxed and not worry about things I cannot change. Namely, skin tone, texture, open pores, scars, blackheads, white heads, stupid heads, dunderheads ...

The Lady I Loved.

It's been almost a year and a half since my last post... possibly one of the longest breaks I've taken from writing. Any kind of writing.
I lost my Mother to breast cancer 15 months ago and the journey since the time she was diagnosed till the time she passed on to the 'other dimension' has been stormy. Yet, there were some good times and deep friendships and relationships cemented during the period. Most importantly, rediscovering Dad after he had voluntarily taken a back-seat in our lives during our growing years when Mumma was the centre piece of my sisters' and my existence.

Mummy was the proof reader for all my blog posts. Good, bad or ugly, she patiently read through them and toward the end, had me read them out loud to her. She made suggestions now and then, but mostly let my work stay as it was. Possibly because she wanted it to retain my "style".

Renu Suresh was a one of a kind lady. Every girl probably thinks that about her mother, and I'm no different, but I honestly think she was a class apart. She married for love back in the day (in a society that hardly accepted it) and not just to someone from outside her community.

 She was a triple graduate. Again, for a generation where women barely made it through college, she was far more educated and at a point, even better qualified than dad. She went on to have three daughters and kept them all (!) Yes, 'kept' us at a time when well meaning friends and relatives volunteered to adopt one of us (Me, actually, being the youngest) because daughters are a burden to support. And three, God forbid!
Ma brought us up to the best of her and Dad's ability. They were always there at every school programme, ensured we were never shabbily turned out, kept us healthy and gave us as good of an upbringing as kids those days. For as long as I can remember, mummy also worked jobs. First, full time and then later as we grew up, she worked for half the day. Finally, in the last 15 years of her life, she ran a play school and kindergarten. She worked hard. Very hard. At everything she did.

While she was alive, I never got around to writing about her. Though anyone who knows me, knew that I hero worshipped and would've spouted poetry about her if I could. (Wait, I have in fact, ha ha!) One can't imagine life without such an integral part of your being. It's an impossible scenario to fathom. In conversations, if the topic of death ever came up, I'd maintain that I'd leave this earth with her, in one shot. Dark humour or what, but I had cocky confidence. Needless to say, since I'm hammering away on the laptop, I didn't.

Mummy was just as human as she was a super hero. She was adorably cute in ways that only those close to her knew she could be.
There are few instances which when I think about now, always send me scurrying for tissues to wipe away tears of mirth about how unintentionally funny she was.
There was this one time I wanted to use her phone to make a call. Since I couldn't find hers, I decided to call it from mine to hear it ring. Mummy, who had had it next to her, was immersed in reading the newspaper till it buzzed. When it did, my naive mum took the phone in her hand and looked from the screen to me in complete wonder. She then proceeded to answer the phone with a tenative "Hello?" as I stood in front of her with an incredulous expression. "But it said you were calling beta..." she said sheepishly smiling with childlike innocence.
Another memory that stands out from the rest is watching her as she used the computer to write articles or send emails: She would stare intently at the desktop while typing, with her head tilted slightly backwards and move from left to right gradually. Then suddenly when the cursor would jump to the next line, my adorable mother (brought up in the era of typewriters) would jerk her head to the left when she'd spot the blinking cursor. After the momentary pause on spotting it, she'd resume.

Mummy was also endearing in least expected ways. While having arguments with her adult daughters, there would only be a slight variation in what was being said, from both parties. Reason, she would repeat our argument with the prefix of  'What'. Example:

Me: But I like staying out after 7!
She: What "I like staying out after 7!"
Me: ...

Me: I don't care what my hair looks like!
She: What "I don't care what my hair looks like!"
Me: Means I don't care.
She: What "Means I don't care!"
Me: ...

Me: I think that guy is cute.
She: ...

Usually the silence would be followed by the Hindi version of  "Are you crazy?!" (Paagal ho gayi hai?! to be exact) But there you have it, Ma wasn't the best at rebuttals but she still more often than not got her way with things around the house.

She may have seemed vulnerable with us at times, but was our rock of Gibraltar. There were numerous times she came to our rescue. When I was in high school and a terror for a teacher cornered and humiliated me in class one day, my mother took it upon herself to tell her off.
 After having watched me bawl my eyes out for hours, mumma picked up the phone, went to the next room and gave that teacher an earful. Needless to say, that teacher stopped picking on me thereafter. Mum taught us never put up with bullies.

There are so many memories and my whole life almost (the good parts, haha), which stand testimony to her slightly conservative but kind upbringing.
One single blog post can do no justice to her impact on our lives but I know it's a start. I hope she's proof reading this article and approves of it, from wherever she is. And if she is, I might as well have at it, and leave her a message here.

I love you Ma. And miss you much more than we thought I would. I miss telling you about my day and miss sharing small joys and sorrows. I know you're around though, guiding our lives and you're doing a superb job of it ... But I miss just being able to hug you, give you the personal space-invading-patented kiss of mine. Hearing your foot steps around the house and I miss your familiar greeting on the phone. I miss you.
Yes, we've been coping well, and I know we'll get better too, but I can guarantee that all of us here are looking forward to seeing you again. Maybe not looking forward to the process involved, in order to see you (!) But we want to, alright :)
Take care Mumma.
Until later, then.
Tunjee Ashlu Raja.

Beauty.

There's always something beautiful,

In every facet of life,

If only we would stop and think, 

And not surround our self in strife.

There'll always be things that are bothersome, 

And things that'll get us down,

Doesn't matter what age or race you belong to,

There's plenty of worry to go around.

Yet it's in the madness and cacophony of life as is

That we've got to make way for the smiles,

For little bursts of sunlight and laughter,

Through wilderness that'll run through miles.

It's about being in love no matter the obstacles, 

And loving without being scared

It's about doing things for someone you love,

Regardless of who else cares.

It's about looking into one's soul in wonder,

With all the strength that's there,

And marvel at the steadiness of your own heart ,

When all in the world's not fair

Because beauty isn't something

That you want to just look at with your eyes

It's the feeling that'll fully engulf you

When you hear the phoenix cry. 

(Poem dedicated to my resilient Mom.) 

Herald of Wisdom

I have decided to become more regular with writing. Not because I want to keep in touch with the wannabe writer in me, or because I want to seem erudite and voice my opinion vociferously about the political scenario or important aspects gripping the nation, city, town or my neighbour's balcony. I'm writing because it occurred to me, that the only way to chronicle some part of my life is by writing now, so I don't suddenly find myself being a whiny 47 year old cat lady unsure of how I got there.

The reason I'm writing this entry is to make a sequel of 'It took me 21 years to get this'. Now, four years hence and all the wiser (not!), I have come up with a brand new set of whirls of wisdom. Read, ponder and repeat...the entry, I mean.

1. Don't balance a bowl of mushy food while carrying a toddler. I have learnt this the hard way thanks to my beloved niece and nephew who could put the most accredited theater actors to shame when it comes to being dramatic. Heavens forbid they be in a bad mood, and decide to flip the second-only-to-holy-chalice, brace yourself for a shower of lumpy warm food and a child who can double the mess in a matter of seconds by helpfully rubbing it in your face. Literally.

2. Don't ask women for road directions... Unless you're fond of going for long drives you never intended going on. And certainly not if you don't appreciate navigating through narrow gullies that don't really have a point in existing. I have contributed generously to our government and the oil companies in the middle east and have understood that I can display my pride in being a woman and seeking help of another, in other ways than being led into taking a road trip without my consent.

3. Ensure your niece/nephew/child is with you before you begin cooing. It does not bode well to baby talk in front of an aquarium of a mall about the body parts of "fishies", when the child in question has wandered off. And do not forget to stop addressing yourself in third person with the suffix of a 'masi' (aunt) while talking to full grown adults.

4. Do not trust a car in the hands of someone who is just about eligible to vote. Also, the dash board is a precious, precious part of the car that is highly underrated. This piece of advice is for anyone out there who has had the misfortune of sitting in, and the good fortune of emerging out alive, of a car driven by an eighteen year old. You can however count on the sturdy dash board that will be with you in (car)sickness and (mental ill) health, and happiness (at a traffic signal) and horror (of a free way).

5. Don't buy toys that are sound sensitive. It is not a good idea to watch scary movies about possessed dolls and then merrily invest in toys that go off on their own while you're tip toeing to the kitchen for a mid night snack and manage to stub your toe noisily. I have no idea what the makers had in mind but I'm sure scaring the bejesus out of a harried peckish aunt was not on their agenda when they tuned the doll to sing 'Mary had a little lamp' in the dead of the night.

Along came Anvi :)

       It may be a year and a half since my lil niece was born.... but I remember events leading up to that day as clearly like they happened yesterday... Coming to think of it, a lot was happening in my life around that time, but some events stand out more distinctly than others. Like the day before she came into this world.
   
      I was getting ready for college and hadn't the slightest idea that that day was the eve of a life changing event. I woke up at the usual, but (of all days) I'd spent an hour talking to a friend in the morning. As a result, I rushed out pretty late. I remember which street I was driving on when I my phone buzzed. It was from home and my other sister informed me of my eldest sister being driven to the hospital right then. The baby was expected soon. I pulled over to the side of the road and cried.

    I distinctly remember which classes I had that day. Not much of what was being taught, of course, but I remember staring out of  the window whilst sitting in class and thinking of how different our lives were about to become... I left college early because I didn't want to miss being there...
   I got home sooner than usual, and to my absolute surprise I saw my eldest sister sitting serenely in our living room (instead of in a hospital room as I'd imagined she'd be) in the company of a couple of neighbours and a family friend. They may have come just to wish her luck, or as is in our Indian tradition, they came to give her gifts and wish her well with the baby... The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. The guests left, we had dinner and then every half hour or so we were subject to my sister going in and out of what I later came to understand as contractions.
That night my brother-in-law and mother were constantly over the phone with my sister's doctor. I of course steered clear of anyone that either had a baby bump or a phone stuck to their ear listening to instructions. I may have gone to bed around 11, I'm not sure... I slept on the couch that day because we were accommodating more people than usual. At around 4.30 a.m, I was awoken by the sounds of people scuffling around and opened my eyes to see my sister waddle out with my mother and brother-in-law in tow. It's not everyday that someone wakes up to be a first-time-aunt...

I don't need to mention that I couldn't sleep a wink after that. In fact, neither could my dad, my other sister, or the old relative at home. So we decided to get dressed and visit my sister in the hospital.
I'm not the sort that takes long to get dressed, but even I managed to set myself a record of being ready in a matter of minutes... I don't know what we thought by arriving at the hospital maybe an hour after my sister was admitted. I probably thought the kid would be delivered and would look as cute as the babies in diaper ads. Wrong, On both counts.
My sister, we were told was very much in labour and we were asked in no uncertain terms to bugger off and be back when the child was actually born. Having nothing better to do at 6 a.m, we left for breakfast and then home. My mother promised to call us at 10 a.m to tell us the of the status quo. The baby would most probably be out by then, she said.

The rest of us meanwhile, reached home. I informed my classmates of my taking the day off and decided to take a nap seeing as how there was nothing to do but wait. I set the alarm for 10 a.m and miraculously woke 5 minutes before it went off.
    It so happens, that the day my niece was born, also happened to be the day we seniors (at university) were throwing the juniors a welcome party. And as (ill) luck would have it, I was set to compere the event.
By 11 am, there was still no news from my mother so I thought I'd go the beauty palour and get spruced a bit. (There was full chance of my sister having the baby on the next day, and if that was the case, I could not chicken out from attending the party. Well, turns out I couldn't chicken out in any case, because I did end up finally going, but oh well)
I returned around 12 pm and still no news. I was getting my clothes together for that evening's party when my dad's phone rang. My sister and dad were presumably in the same room and there was a whoop of joy. I entered the room and beaming, Papa handed me the phone.

"Congratulations Ashe, you're an aunt to a healthy baby girl" an exhausted young mother said.

The gamut of emotions were immense. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Being treated as the baby of the house for 23 long years was finally up. Now there was someone who I would lovingly pass on the mantle to.
Anvika looked every bit a shriveled bundle of baby, when I first set eyes on her. A thick mop of hair, alert eyes, and translucent skin. That's how I remember my baby niece a few hours after she was born. I can't say I thought she was the most beautiful baby et al, because she wasn't. Yet, when I did look at her and it actually sunk in that that little being was my sister's baby, I felt my eyes get moist.

Turning an aunt is a one of a kind experience. You're close enough to feel the full impact of welcoming a new being into the world, but far away enough to not be woken up for 3 a.m diaper changes. All in all, I think being an aunt is the most fun of all the equations one can have with the child (at least till they can be called that) You have all the energy in the world to monkey around, yet you don't have to be responsible for feed and sleep timings. I love being an aunt. I became one for the second time round this year, and feel almost completely comfortable around babies now. (At least I'm not scared of them anymore!) .... To this day, I look back fondly on August 12th 2011. It was the day that set the precedent for how things would be for the rest of our lives and what changed the dynamics at home completely. 

Would happily like to miss the boat...!

   Turning 24 had not been the most joyous occasion. I mean, for all intents and purposes I AM glad that I'm a year wiser, smarter and yada yada yada, but when you're a 24 year old unmarried girl in a house that would like to see their daughters married, (if not betrothed by this age) it kind of umm, spells trouble. But wait, by trouble, I don't mean like full fledged let's-get-our-daughter-married-to-the-next-Mr.Money bags trouble, but the lets-set-our-daughter-up-so-she'll-willingly-get-married-to-some Mr.Nice kind of trouble.

Now, as thoughtful as that it is, that my family wants to look out for me so much, it's not in the least bit amusing when you're dressed in your prettiest best making a lame conversation with a guy you don't know from adams. Worse still, is to have your folks (and the guys folks) listen in on the conversation, and pretend to not take note of every breath you take (Sort of puts Sting's song in perspective) ...So anyway, meeting with the guy, making small talk with his mother and sister, laughing at jokes I'd otherwise never crack a smile at, made me go into a sort of reverie after the whole (or)deal was over.


The very concept of arranged marriages, (till one is faced with it is oneself) is something we've all been brought up to accept as the norm in our society. But the problem lies is suddenly coming face to face with the idea that you're going to be spend the rest of your (un)blessed life with a guy you hardly know. Well of course, there's the oft used "But you can get to know each other before" and the like, but who decides how much we know of each other before we tie the knot?!!

Some how, I managed to convince my parents to allow me to look for "My Mister Right" on my own. I therefore signed up with one of the leading matrimonial sites of our country, and if I thought I was perturbed enough by the wrong sort in the real world... Boy, nothing had me prepared for what lay ahead in the virtual world!! ... These are some excerpts from profiles I've been sent alerts from, or by innocent individuals whose profiles I came across while looking for "my soul mate".
I don't mean to offend anyone with the bylines and God forbid you're one of the people with some of the horrendous descriptions given below. As for the rest: This is what you go through when you take your parents seriously by listening to them and not talking to boys enough. You end up having to sift through this!!!


"i am mera prabhu from india i know about myself

i want afair giral and brilliant"

(af(f)air giral? He doesn't need THIS website for a fling, surely?! )

"very cool and hot, want my partner help me in every matter...."
( What is he describing, the Hyderabadi weather?:P)

"i am a simple man want a wife i can do anything to want so i want want"
(....... And I want to want out!!)

"i like simple gujrati girls...... who loves me only........."
( Umm. How many does he want to marry?? )

"hi i am gaurav yadav i am teacher in computer software you meet me bay"
(Looks like someone has to enroll themselves in some etiquette classes)

" I AM VERY SILENT PERSON IN THE WORLD I THINK I AM IN THE"
(In the..? Process of not traumatizing us with the details, thankfully!)

"I AM VERY SIMPLE BOYS LOVE MY PARENT AND NAVER WHAT TO CHANGE MY SELF. I AM LOOKING FOR WHO CAN UNDERSTAND MY FELLING AND I ALSO."
( I think he suffers from multiple personality disorder. Don't you FELL the same way?)

"i am best friend of my partner"
(... He's found her already?!)

"I am very entaligans and my incame one laks my parsonal campany technical jobs"
( Uhh, he 'incame' and I'm 'out-going' )

"hi i am gauri. shankar this is samat Girls nda beutifull"
( I'm confused. Is he a girl or a guy and What is he describing?!!)

"I like a beautyfull girl & charming face.
This girl is working in a office."
( Looks like he knows where she works. He should call her sometime. )

"likes: pet, dating, tourism.. etc
dislikes: dose who criticizes the behind."
(Whose behind??!!)))))


"She should be fair and smart and without spectacles, without veesing problems."
( .... I don't think he'll get what he wants in the 'veesing' department. Anyone who takes a look at his photo won't stop wheezing. The horror!)

"who do wrong means wrong"
( And you did wrong in putting up your profile, buddy)

Things are difficult and Impossible before YOU meet me. Will you do marriage to me?
( I think not. Don't be difficult and impossible by even asking that..!!)

"Hi I am satya im looking for a girl who is carrying and understand my feelings."

(Carrying. Already?? I didn't know they came that progressive!)

Your attention please... Not!

  Seeing as how I was going from pillar to post for any job interview, it didn't come as a surprise to my folks when I grandly announced I wanted to give being an air-hostess a shot. I'd been coming up with random professions now and then, so they presumed this was one of those bouts of madness that would soon pass, once the initial rush of doing something "glamorous" wore off... But it didn't. To this day I have no idea what made me even sign up for the interview, but I'd like to put it down as the things one has to attempt at doing, at least once in their lifetime.
    I went shopping for a formal skirt, shirt and stockings, I watched videos on how to wear one's hair in an elegant bun and I got a full manicure and pedicure done. I was all preened for the 'photo session' of sorts so they'd see a full length me before they encountered the real hulk-of-a-figure me.
   I breezed into the office with my Mommy dearest (yes I've taken my mum to a job interview!) and went into the allocated waiting room. I entered, and it hit me.... A multitude of perfume scents hit me. The room had about 10 girls, dressed in smart itty-bitty formal skirts that made mine look like an open umbrella in comparison. They all came in various shapes, but one size. Zero.
     All waif like, extremely made up (they even knew the names of the brushes with which they kept reapplying make up) and quite nervous. I struck up a conversation with one pretty young thing, just fresh out of high school and she launched off on an essay she knew by rote about our country. I was beginning to fret about not having a patriotic speech myself (to serve what end, I'm not sure) when my name was called out for the interview.
    I just about managed to stand up in heels (that made me reach almost 6 feet) and swayed dangerously because my center of gravity changed. It's a wonder how I reached the other room without falling. (I tend to specialize in doing that, especially at places where I go to give interviews) On going inside, I faced a bored but heavily made up lady who at first didn't acknowledge me. It must've taken a lot to do that, because at the risk of sounding immodest, I'm not the kind that one can easily look through. I can assure you I probably have a two digit number before the zero of size zero. People cannot even pretend to skim over my head because they'd have to end up looking at the fan if they did. So after about 2 minutes of looking in every direction save mine, she smiled and gestured for me to sit down.
    Her opening question, about why I wanted to join the airline didn't take me by surprise. I went off into a soliloquy about why I thought it was one of the best in the industry, 'cause it catered to the needs of the consumers while being economically sound and also provided the best facilities second to none though it was started barely a decade ago by a spirited group of entrepreneurs and that the airline had raked in profits faster than.... She gave me a glassy stare much like the look you perhaps have on reading all this. I stopped mid sentence much to her relief (and mine, because I didn't know where I was headed with all the amassed information from Wikipedia) She quickly stated that they'd call me if I'd been selected and concluded the interview.
     Turns out, I didn't make the cut because I was too, umm, "heavy" for the job. I think there's a reason they choose girls who weigh a few milligrams more than an airbag. It's so the airline's assured of the planes taking off lest they can't be airborne, because of crew that might hinder the process!
     I can't say I was let down about it, because I know I wouldn't be happy in a place where I'd only worry about the bristles of 'Shadow large' or 'Flat top small' getting tangled. Or a place where I'd eat an almond a day and feel fat. And most of all in a work environment where I cannot talk or discuss ideas, however obtuse, without being given the glassy eyed stare for it.

Attending Blessed Interviews.

That's it! I've had it with attending annoying job interviews! It's irritating to have to go say the same things over and over to a new set of people and be over-enthusiastic (about their company, like it's what you were born to do) zealous (about feeding in complaint forms all day), and convinced one can make a significant contribution to whatever the hell one's supposed to contribute to and be genuine about it. In the last 4 months, I may have attended half a dozen interviews and each has been worse and the outcomes more dreadful than the previous ones.
      First off, I have a major axe to grind with these Corporate companies. EVERYTHING about them is so intimidating, beginning from the phone interview each insists on. I know, and the person on the other side knows that we'd both be comfortable if we spoke in a language that doesn't scream 'Oh-we're-so-erudite'!!
      So yeah, maybe they work for a foreign firm, but does one HAVE to have a clipped accent and make use of words like 'proliferation', 'impediment' and 'furtherance'?!! What am I, a dictionary?! Till I figure the word going by the context, I've lost sight of the question. And asking them to repeat themselves is another sin! It's all very well in theory to ask them to please go over it again, but if you do it in practice, they're already putting you down for a retard.
     Then it's dealing with the volley of questions. They can range from the older-than-the-pyramids kind of questions like 'Can you tell us something about yourself?" to stuff that's as random as "How many barbers do you reckon there are in this city?"... Well, seeing as how I did NOT work in the Barber-shops counting industry, I couldn't really help my interviewer.
      Then there's also the dressing well, and ensuring that the posture in which you sit, shows just the right degree of eagerness. Too much, and your salary gets non-negotiable, too little and : "You're qualifications are impressive but we don't have an opening for your profile at the moment"
       I think going for an interview and emerging victorious is a dying art (It was pronounced brought dead in my case) But I'm not going to give up. So long as there are people who call me to their offices and get my expert opinion on how many bales of hair barber shops get rid of in a day, I'm going to find plenty use of my time.

Makes you go: Hallelujah! ;)

The comfort of one's bed,
When one's lying half asleep;
That kilo one knocks off,
After working out a week.

A warm smile from a friend,
One's been sparring with sometime;
The wind in one's hair,
When one's riding against time(!)

The silence of the night,
And the bustle of the day;
Good deeds done to you,
Kindness you'd like to repay.

When your dog actually listens,
To orders given to it;
Joy bells that go off in your head,
That make life seem worth it!

Looking into the mirror,
And finally liking what you see;
You wonder what took you so long,
To learn to just Be.

It's a Dog's Life...!

Okay, so this entry is one that I'm literally copy-pasting from something I'd written a really long time ago. It was a college assignment and we needed to fill space in the newspaper we were bringing out.
It's sort of like an agony-aunt column: Where my dog plays counsellor. (Not your best shoulder to cry on, you'd think!) Here goes :

Toffee with Trophy.

If you have a problem with your Boss, your boyfriend or even yourself, come seek the advice of the world’s smartest Dog, Trophy. He’ll counsel you and rest assured your life will be as simple as Dog’s!


***********************


Dear Trophy,
There is this girl in my class who I really fancy. We’ve been studying together for the past 2 yrs and I’ve had a crush on her for the last 1 yr. The problem is that she already has a boyfriend, and besides the fact that he’s really tall, I feel I’m better than him in every other way. I even get better marks than him. Please advice on how I should go about wooing this girl though she already has a boyfriend.
Really confused.

Dear Really Confused,
You amaze me! First of all, you’ve had a crush on this girl for the last 1yr. And now suddenly light dawns, so you want to ask her out?! Buddy, take my advice and back off. After all, whatever else you must be better at than her boyfriend, at the end of the day, he’s still taller!! And take it from a dog who’s been chased by bigger ones, you don’t want to get on their wrong side. Take heart, look for greener pastures: There're lots of bones out there!


Trophy,
I have a very crazy problem. There’s this one acquaintance of mine who really annoys me. Whenever I meet her, she’s either bragging or bitching! I don’t know what’s wrong with her but I think she suffers from some kind of problem like OBD (Obsessive-Bragging-Disorder) or something. How do I let her know that what she does really annoys me without being very rude?
Bugged.

Dear Bugged,
You poor, poor thing. But don’t worry; we have specimens like that in Doggie world too: Who bark their heads off and won't let us hear the end of it! Anyway, regarding your acquaintance, why don’t you try bragging in front of her as well? Or if that doesn’t work, she’ll have to be given less subtle hints. Two of these, are my personal favourites: Scratch your ear while she's talking or yawn pointedly in her face. (Works like magic with the humans I know!)


Dear Trophy,
My best friend and me have a huge crush on the same guy. We stay in the same neighborhood and the guy in question stays in the same colony too. The thing is, he’s gotten to know of my feelings for him (but doesn't know yet that my friend likes him too) and I’ve noticed a change in his behavior towards me. We’ve also met a few times alone. Very honestly, I’m on cloud nine cause of the attention I’m receiving from the hunk and I can't bear the thought of losing him, but at the same time I don’t want to see my friend heart broken. What do I do?
Stumped.

Dear Stumped,
Place yourself in your best friend’s shoes. Would you want her to go out with the same guy you’ve been drooling about too? The answer in its purest form is No. Right? So my advice to you would be to forget about this guy as a prospective boyfriend. Sure someone’s heart’s going break. But you've got to be clear on where your loyalties lie. Wouldn’t you rather have a friend for life than stand a half chance with this guy? Some men can be Dogs but then again, Dogs make very good friends. If you like this guy so much, keep it to friendship and nothing more.

***********************

Saying Goodbye...

Dedicated to Evi and Ann.

For 20 long years
Thick pals they'd been;
Through kindergarten till college
Two best friends you'd ever seen.

Each looked out for the other
And kept her best interests at heart,
Hardly losing sight of one another
They were never apart.

But then one day,
She received a mail,
A congratulatory note if you must
To do her Masters, she'd have to set a sail(!)

To the land of opportunities,
To make her dreams come true,
To make all the moolah,
And start life brand new.

Its funny when the same reasons
Can make us happy and sad,
It's what the besties went through,
It's no wonder they felt so bad.

But with heads held high,
they decided to say their good byes;
It broke their friends' hearts to see
how much they'd later cry.

But the very same distance,
That they'd dreaded so much;
Didn't bring with it any seams
And the friendship withstood as such.

Now they're happy,
And content with their lives,
Constantly in touch
through phone bills that reach the skies!

This short story,
just goes to show,
That good byes with the right people
are never that bad you know! :)

Romantic Comedies :)

I haven't been a movie buff all my life, but I do enjoy an occasional romantic comedy. For the longest time, I didn't think that movies could impart anything other than slapstick comedy or pelvic thrusts to its audiences. Now, however, after being put on a steady diet of films for quite a while, I'm beginning to change my opinion. Movies, unlike books are less subtle when it comes to giving advice. They're upfront and tell it like it is... I watched this movie called 'He's just not that into you' a few days ago, and I'm amazed at how well they've captured what runs through our collective brains (and which trains of thought should be prevented from running) when it comes to dealing with the opposite gender. Especially with certain members of the opposite gender whom we fancy, rather.
Let's take for instance Rom-coms as a genre. Practically all of them have side kicks in them who play the best friends/siblings of the protagonists. They're the ones who dish out great advice and tend to be pillars of support till the happy couple unite. And I think most such movies do a good job in how they portray such folks. Friends and siblings do play important roles in our lives and they do dish out plenty of advice too! They make us feel extremely loved and special. And sometimes, too special to be let down at all.
I know of cases where one's buddies have stuck up for the girl, stubbornly suggesting that the guy(s) in question probably did fancy her but where too shy/timid/silly/foolish/gutless to actually admit it. As tempting as it may be to believe them, the truth is in such situations (for all my naive readers out there, a piece of unsolicited advice) the guys may really not be interested at all... or with some sensitivity, they're just not THAT interested.
I know one of the toughest parts about things like these is having to answer questions like "Why meee?!" or worse, "Why NOT meee?!"... And having to live with the sinking feeling that one's not good enough. It's also of little help to be told over and over that "there's better in store" when one doesn't even want what is in store in the first place. Unfortunately, as pathetic as the situation maybe, one just has to learn to deal with it. Put in another way, one has to Grow Up.
This blog entry is dedicated to all the people out there whose love remains unrequited... Time heals everything. Give time, time and all will be right with the world. Someone special, somewhere is made for each one of us and we'll all be entitled to our very own happy endings. Until then, bring out the DVDs, eat the popcorn and watch these romantic comedies that impart crucial wisdom to love sick, lovelorn people like you and me! :P

Lady Macbeth

I really hope I don't come through like a pompous ass or one of those annoying people who put up boring things on their blog... But I have to, really have to put up my first attempt at a sonnet here. (It was submitted as an assignment in college)
Sonnets are a mildly irritating form of poetry of 14 lines. They follow a certain rhyme scheme (that's a little convoluted, if you must know! :P) and aren't the easiest things to write in the world. In any case, without further ado, here goes...

Lady Macbeth.

She was born to alter history;
A determined wife, powerful and ambitious,
Her character surrounded by enigma and mystery,
She was an honoured noblewoman perceived as virtuous.
She had a fatal flaw that was a chalice of greed,
It consumed her husband and her sanity,
Regicide, which is believed to be the seed
Led to their downfall; murder without sagacity.
Poise and composure she did attempt,
But apparitions and a pricking conscience didn't desist,
Forced to withdraw she became unkempt,
And sleepless nights did persist.
She jumped to her death when she could bear no more,
And it was all for a crown that she never wore.



PS: I did well on the assignment! :)

Bad Karma does bear Fruit!

Karma. What goes around, comes around. We reap as we sow. If we pull the chair from under someone when they're about to sit, the same will happen with us... Or not. Maybe we'd owe the universe a lot more. Perhaps it'd be Murphy's law, or the ways of the world, or just plain rotten luck. To go through what a pal of mine did, is an ordeal. Especially if all of it took place within the span of one week.
I won't be delving into the details of how she earned her bad karma ( Ha, like I'm even an authority on the subject) but lets just say Someone Up There wasn't happy about something she'd done.
Day 1 : We'd boarded a bus from within campus (on a rainy day) to take us to the exit. She was in front of me while climbing down, and had a carton of lassi in one hand and a bag in the other. She was making her way gingerly when she slipped and fell. The next thing we knew, she was sprawled on the mossy footpath with a now empty carton, and a dirty green bag (pun unintended). Hair askew and a thunderous expression, she didn't make the best company on our way back home. But hell, the poor sap had issues. Stained jeans and a skinned knee. Ouch.
Day 3 : We were fighting our way out of a train compartment that was packed like sardines when my friend came face to face with a shrill woman and her bawling child. They got into a heated argument and were on their way to Level II of the fight (that usually involves the use choicest of cuss words from both parties) when the train began moving. We made our hasty retreat and in doing that, had to jump off the running train. Yes, like they do in the movies. But the difference being, it's not as romantic as they make seem. We managed to 'get off' alright, but several feet apart. That's because we 'landed' quite differently as well. I fell on my behind, and bounced off rather like a ball (thus minimizing the impact) but she landed like an airplane that had a inexperienced pilot on board. Off she went careening in one direction...A sprained elbow, injured pride and a rotten mood generally go hand in hand, I learnt that day.
Day 5: She swore she'd walk carefully, talk carefully and climb and get off modes of transport as the epitome of grace. But it seemed like fate wasn't done dealing her bad cards. We were on our way home in a moderately empty train and were lost in thought when all of a sudden, an unripe guava (from outside) went whizzing over my head and hit her squarely in the face.
Picture this. We're travelling at a fast pace through an area that's not best known for it's population. Population that's alive, anyway. (We were crossing a graveyard when it happened)... There weren't any trees in sight and certainly none that had guavas jutting out of them. Yet, from nowhere, there was the fruit that flew into the compartment and bounced off her horrified face. I ducked out of view to 1) Get hold of the offensive object and 2) to stifle my laugh.
Thankfully, she wasn't hurt badly and the next day when she came to college with balm applied around her mouth (that prevented her from talking) I told anyone who'd listen, about the week's past events.
Of course, in doing that I know I've probably earned myself some bad karma. Therefore as precaution, I don't get off buses with cartons of lassi in my hand, I avoid getting into conversations with fellow passengers (lest I get into a brawl with them) and lastly, I say my daily prayers thanking God that melons or any bigger fruits don't grow from high branched trees. The blessing!