Thursday 3 October 2013

A manner of hell

I want to tell you about a lady I know.

She meets me everyday and has a one-sided conversation most days. I think she just wants to be heard and I'm listening.

I asked her if she could help me for a few evenings and she told she'd have to ask her mother-in-law. After a while, she told me that if her child was not attended to, she'd not be able to.

I feel sorry for her sometimes, when I remember her life is worse than mine.

When I met her, she told me that she had been married seven years and only recently had had two children. At the start of the marriage, her husband lived in Goa and her mother-in-law insisted she needed someone to help her in her household chores, so she had to stay behind in Mumbai.

So the young lady became the family servant, cleaning, cooking, washing the clothes of her sisters-in-law, their husbands and children and working for a living.

All the while, her mother-in-law told neighbours and friends that the daughter-in-law was not bearing grandchildren for her. On a trip home, the young lady told her mother about what was happening at home and that her husband didn't seem to want to be a spouse or have children or take her with him to Goa. And she refused to return to Mumbai.

After a couple of months, her husband went to the village to get her back and his mother-in-law advised him to try and make his marriage work. He did all that he promised.

And the young lady had a baby. A girl. And her mother-in-law was upset. She told all her neighbours that she wanted a boy and what would she do with a girl. One of her daughters shouted at her for constantly putting down her daughter-in-law for not having a child... and when she did have one the mater was quibbling about its sex. 

The second child was a girl. And there were more laments. But my friend told the family she wasn't going to have any more children just to aim for a boy.

My friend told me, her first meal of the day is usually past 2pm. Most of the time she is living on very sweet tea. After everyone else has had theirs. Apparently that is cheaper than a meal. I am not sure how she produces breast milk if she is unable to eat well. After she's done housework for all the extended family members and her own, she eats something.

All of what she earns (very little) goes into the household and paying for her mother-in-law's frequent pujas. She recently had to have a big do for her daughter's birthday because the family and neighbours expected them to splash out on a party. She said she was distressed at having to spend money she didn't have on people who didn't value her or her daughters.

She says she's usually angry when she goes home after work, because no one has helped with any chores and she sees her baby usually sleeping, unwashed and and in food-stained clothes. Some days she bangs the unwashed pots in anger, but she is never able to say anything about her situation. Once she asked her mother-in-law to do a spot of sweeping and was told, 'look whose being my mother-in-law'.

Hell is closer than we think.

Tuesday 1 October 2013

Speaking of pregnancies

At our friend's place, we noticed the discus (a breed of ornamental fish) were laying eggs. At first we thought they were unwell. Three fish kept hugging the corner of the tank. The owner of the fish showed me which was the male. I realised all our fish were females. And I've got an ardent admirer in my fish tank. Thought it was male, but now I know it's not. And I'm not sure if one is still discovering it's sexuality.

At first I did not think much of fish. We didn't share a wavelength. Until we got ours and I started noticing them and their quirks. And I developed a liking for one particular fish. He/she waits for me in the corner of the tank, bites the others if they come to me for a petting, and isn't afraid.

I pet them everyday... and I'm wondering is there more to this.

The egg laying session at the friend's tank had me showing the kids where the eggs were coming from... the owner's wife found it disgusting. It was all new to me. The eggs will probably be eaten, eventually. We'd lost some of our fish to the breeder's urge to have several new frys... is that the correct word?

But in the process, we lost several of our fish. I'm a little upset when he takes them away, because the few occasions we've had new fish given to us by others, they usually never get used to us. They are always wary. And of course, they die. Faster with the fish breeder.

We recently lost two fish because the oxygen machine gave way at night, while we were asleep. It was hard. One of the fish that died was from our first batch of fish in 2009. Just before my mom broke her hip and things were never the same.

We'd called that fish Sandra. Now I know George is not really a boy and I should perhaps be trying to call him/her Georgina. Likewise for Obama and the Nawab. The husband tells me that fish breeder tried to make the Nawab have a family, but apparently wasn't co-operative. As was the other fish that was taken from our tank. He came back big and bulky, but now i realise he wasn't a male.

 

Ona sadya

On Sunday we were invited to a friend's home for onam. It's late for several reasons.
 
The immediate family were tired this year and wanted to ply their energies into the matriarch's 71st birthday the next week. So we all pitched in and made a malabari biryani. The biryani took several hours and i felt sorry for the cooks. There was a main cook. My husband, and two main helpers, his sister and sister-in-law, and three children and me helping with the rest. I had been peeling and cutting the raw materials for the mutton's marination early in the day and later chopped a salad, split the cashews, fried the popadoms, and generally hovered and tasted and had cold drinks and whiskey-laced drinks at regular intervals. I'm never considered a great help on these days. But i and the kids did our best, cleaned, wiped, cut whatever we were asked to do. 


The burner was small, there were too many cooks in the broth, the kids got hungry and ate the nuts, cold drinks and and finally found the biryani too spicy, which is strange, because it is not supposed to be. But I'm no expert.

I don't know what's fun about cooking. The only thing that happened was that the 'able' women were in the kitchen, sweating and tiring themselves out. The main chef was sweating a lot, and worried about the biri. And, in the end, the rice didn't cook. We finally settled down to eat at 11.40pm and then the kids found the food too spicy and wasted much of what was on their plates.
 

After we divided the leftovers and left, it took us another week to get to the leftover biri. We steamed the first lot in the biryani vessel and had it on the Sunday. We had the next lot the next Sunday. To tell you the truth, I'm sick of leftovers.

Now this onam, there were four women cooking. And cooked chicken too. It was celebrated late because these two families (related to each other) went to kerala to attend their grandmother's 100th birthday. So they finally had an onam celebration with in-laws and children and fish.

All the men behaved slyly, and went into a room to drink. I, the sole female boozer, had a spiked coke. I'm not sure what was in it, but it was strong. Despite telling the host I was okay the way I was, eating starters and generally enjoying female company, he just didn't believe I could be happy and replete sober.

After the first sip, i remembered why I like to mix my own drinks... and why I like to have them at home. I drank it slowly, first wondering if i should pour it into the tulsi plant in the tiny balcony. But then i noticed the gods on the pot. How many times had I been there and never noticed them. I worried that the tulsi would wilt and die and the family's luck would turn bad. So I looked at the other plants and then I sighed and had my drink very slowly and with lots of diet coke. My husband later told me I should have gone to the kitchen sink and thrown it away when no one was looking. I am slow.

I stayed away from the chicken curry... and refused to sit at my designated spot -- the leaf was loaded with food. What did they think I was... an elephant?

In any case, I'm worried about being considered a boozer. The men felt i absolutely had to have my drink. And the women were uncomfortable about drinking with me... and I uncomfortable about drinking in the company of disapproving (well-hidden) teetotallers. The kids made it sound worse. One slyly alluded to my 'drink'.

In any case, the spouse and I have decided on a few excuses for the next time he and his friends intend to have a drink. I'm going to say 'my-fish-are-pregnant-and-need-me-sane/I'm sick/on medication/having a headache. Take your pick.  

Three movies

I saw The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel today. I'd wanted to see the movie for a very long time, but even i was surprised that i had something to smile at in the end. It was better than i expected.

It has been a string of movies for me this week. I saw Lunch Box at Infinity Malad on a weekday last week. I've been trying to catch movies in the early part of the day, the tickets are cheaper then, but have been finding it tough to get out early. I'm usually in a rush, managing the entry and exits of the maids, my bath and breakfast, all at one go. Husband says that after my mum died, I'm even willing to let the maids in when I'm not at home. Don't have a choice. The dust doesn't respond to magic.

Well the movie was quite moving. It hammered in that i was growing older. I felt old. My friend Mala meets me and tells me I've grown old. When did this happen. How? I was always determined to feel like a child. When did I start feeling like a +40-year old. Is it bad? Will it kill? I'm hoping to overcome this affliction, perhaps it's just me. But I've been realising i have no friends... they are all virtual and not quite there. They are bogged down, busy, far away. I'm wondering that if I retire soon, I may want to die early.

The funny thing about the movies is that I want to see them. I find myself trying to get out the door and in time for the movies, almost like an appointment. everything else can wait.

The dull weeks are the ones that don't have a movie I'm interested in. The mall has started boring me. Including the bookstore.

The movie moved well. Surprisingly for a Hindi movie. Sometimes there are uncomfortable spaces and pauses. Facts that don't meld. Nimrat Kaur was good. I was discussing this with Sra and we found her responses to Sajjan very much spot on. We could almost feel the anticipation when she was preparing to meet him. I just don't understand why she needs to smell the clothes she has to wash everyday. Anyone?

The theatre was full that day. but i had to listen to an inaudible but noisy commentary from the couple next to me. The boy sat next to me and poked me several times in the chest... until I shoved his elbow off and he apologised. The other young man wanted to sit on my lap. When i described the two to my husband, he scolded me for not sitting in an aisle seat. Really, what was I thinking. I should have held on tight to the chap on the right and continuously elbowed the one on the left. It will probably improve the movie experience for me. depending on how heavy the fellow on the right is, of course.

The Prisoners. The theatre was empty. It now fills me with a little fear to enter such a theatre. Especially if i spy one lone man sitting in the last row. For the first 10 minutes I'm wondering if I'll be tackled from the back or the side. How will i fend someone off if I'm too busy tucking into popcorn or a cold drink. Maybe i can freeze his nose off with all the ice cubes noisily swimming in the coke. And then there were more people walking in... but no women. sigh.

Anyway, this was good too. In a very different way. And a hanging end. When you watch the movie, you'll know what I mean.

And today The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which made me wonder why Indians sound so bad in foreign movies and even in the interests of authenticity their accents never seem to be researched or genuine. I left it feeling that there was hope when one becomes older. It might be different.

Mom

I don't remember when i last wrote. I know it was before my mother died.

There i said it. On my own.

The year has divided itself into before mom and after. And i still cry when i think of her.

Some days she's all i can think of. Her wrinkled soft skin. Us calling her the security officer of the house. I wonder how many cycles there are to grief, and why i have to go through it so many times.

When my father died, it took me very long to get over it. I wonder if i still have. I have stopped crying when i think of him, and i can now look at his pictures. I can't look too long at mum's.

Winding down, packing up the pieces. Wondering what to do with her things. Her clock beeps at 11.44pm every night. If i'm working in the room, it sends a shiver down my spine. The sound is so unexpected, reminds me of my mum trying to sleep but always staring at the back of my head.

She always looked as though she wanted to say something, tell me something, but never did.

When i was young I asked her why she had five children. Couldn't she have stopped at the first three. I thought they could have done better keeping their family small.

Some days when i think too much, i understand that there's a karmic cycle somewhere. I'm in it too.

 

Thursday 9 May 2013

Onwards to heaven

Yesterday we woke up to find some men from the next building standing in a corner and talking quietly. 

After about an hour, the maid asked me what was happening. I was clueless.

A little later a police van came through the society gates, and about 6-7 policemen disappeared into the building. One even brought his little son and made him sit in the police van. School holidays and nowhere to go? Husband told me it was not a good way for a young child to pass his time, as there would be many bad things and situations he'd be witnessing.

Afterwards, husband told me the watchman was called to an apartment in the next building to break open a door and they found the head of the household hanging from a fan.

Apparently he was suffering business losses and was under a great deal of stress.

The kids from all three buildings were not allowed to play outside until evening. I don't think anyone really explained what happened.

I can't place the gentleman. I see his son going to work every morning. I don't know what his wife and other kids look like. I've lived here 14 years and i don't know anyone or anything. I don't know what makes anyone tick.

Just the way I knew and didn't know V.

Several years ago I had a friend and colleague, V.  Always smiling, full of activity. Working on a Phd. We'd known each other a few years. Knew she was married. We teased her often about being a pucca mumbaikar, but still old-fashioned enough to wear a sari to work everyday.

One day she turned up with a black eye. She was worried we'd say it was her husband. It was actually a door.

And one day, in March, she was no more. We came in to work and were told she had committed suicide.

On her neice's birthday.

Why? No one knows.

Everyone at office was distressed. Could it also have been because we realised we knew very little about V?

We went for the funeral. Saw her tense husband do the rituals.

We met her mother and sisters... shattered by the turn of events.

A colleague wrote an article on suicide. We never spoke about her. We rarely do. I remember her. I've got pictures of her, but that's about it.

Wednesday 8 May 2013

Candy so dandy


 
This is my entry for The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013
 
Chocolates. Sweets, desserts, etc etc.
In my childhood, it was a forbidden treat. For numerous reasons. My father was somewhat diabetic, my mother was a nurse at a dental clinic. I staved off cavities, till my 30s. I blame my mother ;)

If someone was mean enough to get me a box of chocolates, my mum either gave it away or, if we were visiting India in the near future, kept it for my cousins.

In my second year of college, my father bought a box of chocolates for my friends. He was a little upset when an uncle bought me another. I think dad had visions of me overdosing on sweetness, perhaps not sharing the chocs and eventually becoming a sugar hoodie.

I love Ogden Nash… for his quirkiness. I love the idea that someone can make nonsense of something as serious as poetry. Making reverence stand on its [his, perhaps] head.
It was when I met Mala in college, we discovered a singular passion for food and chocolates.

Unlike mine, Mala’s parents would send her back to college with a holdall full of the wicked stuff. And we didn’t share. We would get into her room, and she’d say, ‘what do you want today. Snickers, Mars, Kitkats, Twix’. And we’d start. The sugar high was delicious. We behaved badly. Jumping on beds, ransacking the holdall, gulping down large bars of chocolate like there was no tomorrow.  Didn’t realize being a choco barbarian was such fun.
And at exam time… it wasn’t coffee for me, but the constant crunch of Ravalgaon hard boiled sweets. Mahesh’s piece brought it all back for me. I’d buy a bag worth. It wasn’t expensive then, else I may have baulked. It was a real cheap thrill and I’d get a huge rush. I don’t remember if it helped me study.

Marriage was bliss. My husband travelled. Post marriage I ballooned. Why? He bought so many sweets.
Rum balls from Fluries. Varieties of mysore pak from Bangalore. Sweets from Mysore. Gajak from Rajasthan or MP? The place of interest we visited in Bangalore many years ago? An incredible icecream shop.  

In recent years I’ve asked him to stop. But I’m always hoping he’s got edible stuff in his bags.

Candy so dandy, no?!

To pee or not

Do fish pee in water?

I thought i'd ask the fish, but have been holding myself back. The chances of getting a false answer are very high.

I told them the tank stank, often.

Genie's on strike. I'm alone.

Fish no fun at all.

No more tall glasses of lemonade at my elbow... or lemon tea when I'm sick.

Genie called the cook recently. Not sure what he wanted. Naughty cook's attention?

Tuesday 7 May 2013

Mud reviewed

Mud

Unlike my slow self these days, I bathed quick, ate my medicines, food be damned and ran out of the house.

Managed to reach the theatre with minutes to spare. But what do i find? Kids/senior citizens and the general public. The mall was full! Didn't anyone have a job? I'd arrived on mad house Tuesday. Never, never, never, promise me, never, go for a movie to Inorbit, Malad, on a Tuesday. Apparently, if you sms Vodafone you get a ticket free for every ticket you buy. I was squeezed into a queue with kids holding two mobiles and trying to buy their friends and moms tickets. Offer not valid for those watching movies on their own, sadly.

Worse, I had a senior citizen leaning on me. He made every effort to touch, even with my bag wedged between us.

At the counter I could stand it no longer. I pushed him back and told him to give me some space. I bought my ticket and rushed in. I was annoyed and irritated. Later I asked myself why, as this is something that happens all the time. Should have sprouted rhino skin by now. Then I remembered a school friend, who'd have probably asked me if he should have been younger.

Chennai was bliss. Lived there a couple of years in my early 30s... and no one wanted to touch me!

While waiting, I wondered about the line up -- Iron Man 3,  in 2D or 3D, Shootout in Wadala (a definite maybe), Bombay Talkies (maybe), Aashiqui (NO), and seeing the silent trailer of a new movie on Gippi. It's about a chubby girl who suddenly becomes hip, after years of being sidelined. It's a Karan Johar product and I may end up seeing it when it releases.

Saw Mud, eventually. And it was mud. I'm glad I did not drag the spouse to watch it. Since there was no action in it, save at the end, he may have cursed me for it.

I don't know if it was the little boys that did it, or the lousy role Reese Witherspoon had. I didn't even stare at Mathew's muscled body. But, i wondered how he didn't get gas eating only canned beans. And where did that endless supply of cigarettes come from? The boys weren't buying it for him. Director, cut? He re-engineered (better than new) a motor-less boat. All by someone who may not have gone to school, or even taken a calculator apart. I'm not even sure what engine he's had experience with. It didn't come up. How did his shirt stay so clean. Where did the writing pad and pen come from? Aha!

The plot? You will have to watch it for yourselves.

What did I eat? Breadtalk stuff again... apple weem, creamy chicken, and a couple of others. But, my heart and mind were focused on the shawarma sandwich at Maroosh. Maybe next time. And after watching Matthew McConaughey, I'm wondering if a gassy can of beans might have been fun!

Monday 6 May 2013

New fish on the block



So there are new fish in our tank.

Rather another oldish, smallish tank, with semi-new fish and two shrimps, sharing my mother-in-law's bedroom.

She was annoyed and indignant... standard behaviour when she has to give up more space to furniture or a member of the  animal species. She doesn't seem to mind humans very much.

After being scolded for inadvertantly wishing my brother-in-law's fish dead as a result of being poisoned by primer, paints and peeling plaster... not to forget the workmen, she acquiesed and has now promptly forgotten them.

Husband and I have been feeding the fish frenzy... we've been reminding each other to feed, clean and remember to switch on and off the filter for the smaller fish tank. On the weekend, brother-in-law comes in to give us 'gyaan' on why we should keep the light switched on in the tank. He says it's for their emotional well-being and physical growth. The thing is they seem to be the same size as the day they were introduced into the tank.
 
I don't get it. At the bottom of the ocean or the river bed, there is no light, so why would you want to light up their lives in a tank? What good is it going to do them? At best, they'll develop a human body clock and want porridge at the crack of dawn.
 
Hell, they may even want to speak into a cell phone.

Seriously, staring from the top of the tank... I think the light scares them silly. Or it could just be me.

We also get lectures on what we are doing wrong with our fish. Classic case of my-kid-is-better-than-yours.

My sister-in-law once told me that the minute her husband comes home, the kids are at the door, welcoming him, but he's staring at the fish tank -- doing a body count.

In the week the tank made its appearance at chez nous, we discovered a small tetra (he calls it a tetra, I'm going with it until I know better) with a hump on its nose. We asked BIL about it. There's been silence. I think he's wondering if it's a growth. Or whether we slipped him a new one.

He came one day with rocks in his hand. Apparantly he wanted his pair of shrimps to be able to hide. One has been out of sight since it came here. The other loves the attention. Will try and post some pix later.

Sunday 5 May 2013

A chauffered fisherwoman


Last week I was waiting for a bus (yes, I travel by public transport J especially after rickshaw fares became unaffordable) and saw an interesting exchange.
Saw a fisherwoman, gold and green bangles upto her elbows. I noticed her because she’d come on a chauffeur-driven bike. She’s also the lady from whom my husband buys fish. Apparently she’s quite the businesswoman. She’s installed her daughters-in-law in the fish market, spread out near her, and those naĂŻve enough to do business on her turf are soon missing. Chased off with a sweet word, no doubt. For a few years now she’s been selling masala-coated fish, ready for the frying pan, or if you wish, already fried. All this probably explains her gold bangles. Or, as most of Mumbai’s masses do, they could be the Rs100 variety.

I’m guessing she ran out of fish at her stall and got on to the bike and scouted around for someone selling pomfrets. She stopped near me, zeroing on the guy with an aluminium tub on his head, asked him if he had pomfret (poplette) and proceeded to bargain him down for about 10-12 large ones. In frustration he finally agreed to her price. I’m not even sure he was aware she had a shop in the market! In any case, after she’d chose about 10 of his choice fare, she lowered the price even more… and I missed most of the exchange where she quietly explained why she was giving him less. After a look of shock, he started smiling and scratching his head. Then told her to take whatever she wanted.
I’m all admiration. She’s an impressive businesswoman.

Resolutions


10 Jan 2013

So today, after a week of working from home, I decided I had to make it more professional by wearing my watch and gold bangle.
An overriding fear… that I will forget what the outside world will look like, is up to, etc. etc.

I was thinking more of how I’d emerge into the world, not having tweezed my beard, hennaed my hair and pairing a nice top with some stained but comfortable pyjamas - a salwar to an Indian woman.
I’m bored to death with the lack of contact with other co-workers, find the watch too heavy on my hand, and have given up changing my earrings, my only effort at being feminine.

I’m also exchanging sad emails with colleagues, have just read Nick Clegg has a onesie on the Telegraph. That bit of news is telling. What has become of journalism when the scribes are obsessed by the Deputy PM’s choice of inner wear. Btw, I had to look up ‘onesie’ J
I’m worried, that I started the year this way. It’s going to be just as boring every other day! I’m still not going to attempt a resolution!

A pound of flesh


16 Jan 2013


A pound of flesh? I have an inkling of how birds take theirs.

In the first year of my Masters at Mumbai University, I was living at Pandita Ramabai Hostel, Gamdevi. I spent most of my time with my friend Mala, who at that time was a BSc (third year) student. We’d been best friends for three years. Apart from our friendship, we also shared a toilet.

Our hostel was built in the 1930s and had rooms with stone balconies, built around a central courtyard, so that you could feel the rain and sun and not have to suffer a voyeur's stare.

On the second floor, the two three-seaters had attached bathrooms that also had doors opening into communal passages, allowing others to use them as well.

One day Mala and I were horsing about in her room, as her roommates, Jayasree and Susan, weren’t around. We spotted a sparrow’s nest, with a couple of sparrows flying about the balcony. After a while, we started running after them, jumping and trying to touch the nest. We did this for a while and got bored, probably going to the mess after that. Food was always on our minds.

After a few months Mala and I weren’t quite friends any more. I suffered a series of setbacks, in terms of friendships, university, etc.

Sometimes I found the toilet we shared locked, intentional or unintentional.

Sometimes I felt something fall on me, while I was having a bath.

Sometimes I heard little pinging noises.

One day something hit me. I wouldn’t have noticed, but for the sharp sting. I looked up and saw two sparrows flying about the high ceiling. The birds had managed to enter through a gap leading in through Mala’s balcony and into the common/attached bathroom.

Nothing quite made sense until I heard, and saw, the tiny bit of concrete hit the bathroom sink and bounce out. And I realized the birds were throwing little stones at me. And they’d been doing it for a number of days.

I’m not sure how the pebble-throwing stopped, but after that I’d enter the loo very carefully, look about and then have a bath.

Mala has no recollection of the bird-chasing or of having been hit. But she has had a good laugh imagining it all.

What is this if it isn’t a pound of flesh, eh? I’m a firm believer in animals (read birds) remembering (and acting on their) grudges. 

Thursday 2 May 2013

Fifty Shades of Grey

So I went to the mall a few days ago and bought some books.

Mostly for kids, who likely won't read them.

Yesterday I started reading again after months.

I was rummaging my bookshelf for books to send to my sister, and realised I hadn't completed Fifty Shades of Grey. Who wouldn't finish reading a book full of sex?

I had started reading it and stopped. Started again after a few months and stopped at the same place. I decided it needed a rest.

At the bookstore recently I noticed the sequels and wondered if I should have been picking them. I settled for a book on grammar.

Now I feel Fifty Shades of Grey and its sisters have a better chance of a cursory reading than The McGraw-Hill Handbook of English Grammar and Usage. I'm not sure how the Economist Style Guide would have fared in the midst of all this.

                                           ****** 

Addendum (28 July 2022)

A few years after buying the book, I changed jobs and mentioned to a work friend that I'd started reading this book twice and it was clear I was not (probably never) going to finish it.

"It's just great! What's wrong with it? "

"I hate that the woman's a doormat and letting this guy do these things to her. Why is she going along with it?"

"Nonsense. The guy is so sexy." I should have asked my friend what she liked about it. She looked like her mouth was watering, and she'd swoon -  right there in the train station, while waiting for the 7.36pm Ladies Special. So I believed she liked it. I like broody silent guys in romance novels too... Colin Firth types, and Jamie Dornan, but... "Go back and read it again. Properly! You'll see." She flicked her fingers at me like I had to move out of her way, hurry back to the book, and take up where I couldn't get past.

I watched as she grabbed the pole of a bogey of the moving train and jumped in, effectively ending our conversation.

                                           ****** 

#jamiedornan #colinfirth #romancenovels #ladiesspecialwesternrailways #fiftyshadesofgreyfilm #mumbaitrains #fiftyshadesofgrey #sexy #sex #grey #love #crazylove #loveinmumbai #mcgrawhillhandbookofenglishgrammar #englishgrammar #nonfiction #personalessay #mumbaicommute #thethingsfriendssay
                

Visitors. Change

Had visitors in Mumbai over the weekend.

Things have changed. For me too.

I tried to take some days off from work and was told that I couldn't because it was a busy period. I get that, results season and all.

On Friday I visited my friend S (who flew in from Chennai). and had a good day. I was able to get that day off and spent almost all of it talking.

The friend she was staying with cooked a fantastic lunch and in the evening we spent three hours more chatting in the garden. It had a wonderful breeze, which N said was cool all year.

I was seeing my friend after more than a year. She's always in great shape and conscious of the importance of treating your body like a shrine. does yoga and eats carefully. Though that day we demolished nearly two tubs of icecream, without regret. Everytime she, another friend and I travel together, S is at the peak first and SA and I are crawling uphill and gasping for breath.

I've seen this at Pune's Sheniwarwadi. Try walking up the steps to the top of the fort. S was at the top in minutes. I felt my lungs were on fire and my heart ready to jump out of my mouth. As the steps were steep, towards the top, I was sitting on each step, waiting a bit and then crawling on to the higher step. SA was more dignified. She struggled on upright!

This time S & I talked about feeling and looking older. I'm often thinking about ageing and old age. My body is older, but I think my spirit now feels it is in its 30s. A couple of years ago I'd have said it was that of a giddy teen.

I attribute the downhill to stress and stress. And not doing enough for myself.

The next day I picked up my nephew from the airport. Welcoming him with a cold, courtesy 'Mumbai's changing climate'. I've started using that excuse, how else do you explain it? How else do you explain an irrational virus or a random one?

The first day I fed him porridge for breakfast (because he told me he liked it) and the second morning i managed to burn his omlette. I wonder if he will return.

After packing him off at the airport yesterday, I realised I hadn't taken a single picture of him. We were meeting after five years. BAD!

I told my husband about it and he said it was an indicator of how much my interests had taken a major backseat. We have three cameras at home... and until a few years ago I would always pull out a camera to take pictures of people, angles, things, shadows, visitors, thugs at railway stations, a sunrise. My husband has often scolded me for taking pictures of people on the road, saying I might be a victim of road rage. I remember visiting my nephew and his brother for holidays and taking endless photos of them. They were my sweethearts - always will be.

With the digital age, there are times I'm scratching my head and wondering why things can't be simpler. I know it is, but when you have a computer crash and all the pictures go down a digital drain, a certain lethargy creeps in.

Maybe you could give me some interesting advice.

Wednesday 1 May 2013

Performance anxiety

The title get you?

Well i've been thinking about it for a while.

I sent my friends and family the blog's link and then i stopped writing.

One, I didn't get feedback.

Two, I started questioning the need to write the blog.

But i find writing these, sense or senseless, cathartic.

So, i'm going to plough on anyway. plow on? someone correct me.

 

Thursday 25 April 2013

Wine and carrots

Thinking of squeezing wine-making between the end of work and start of sleep. Roughly an hour. That gives me time to eat, chat with the other half, watch a little TV, freshen up. I've already washed the containers (plasticky make-believe wine barrels) and left them out to dry. I am hoping my mind will go on autopilot and I will be able to finish in good time.

I've also got a kilo of carrots I don't know what to do with. At first I thought, try the same evil pickle I used the kg of lemons for. But a friend, Vini, found out I was trying to squeeze some boiled carrots into the already-made lemon pickle. I thought it would do away with the sourness, and be the pickle of my heart... carrots and lemons doing a packed-like-sardines act. But Vini insisted I try a carrot kheer instead, which sounds simple. Oops, i just went to the local hyper-market and forgot to buy the condensed milk. let's see. i'll improvise. or not at all. really doubtful.

the other idea i had today was to use the carrots to make wine. it's sweet, i doubt it will become sour like the orange and chikoo wines did. perhaps i should try a small batch.

i was at the hyper-market to do some time pass. and someone made away with my trolley. two women... who were shocked to know they'd taken my cart. at the counter i realised they'd also kept my deodorant. so i had to grab my things off the counter, locate the deo shelf and return.

i wanted to start reading my book. but one thing led to the other. and i ended up watching the end of Law & Order and the beginning and bits of Mad Men. I hated this show at first.  but now it has 'piqued' my interest. especially Ms Olsen.

Wednesday 24 April 2013

Books and The Croods

Hot hot hot day today!

I went to the doctor... only to have the same helpless feeling I always do.

He prescribed me and mom some reaaaaalllllly expensive medicine.

I'm always itching to ask him to prescribe something reasonable, or not at all. Better still, something really cheap. But perhaps, I'd be dead by then.

Well... that's what it is -- a luxury to be sick these days.

I even peeped into the poor box to see if any of my medicines had been tossed in. and then turned myself away. Shameless. I haven't come to that. Yet.
And I struggled home. with Mom and extra human in tow.

And still felt bad my life felt a mess. I blame the heat.

So chatted with husband, and as luck would have it, he told me to grab my bag and rush to the theatre.

I did. how often does someone close to you tell you something you'd like to hear.
I got to the counter at 3.24pm, for the 3.30pm movie. The movie, The Croods, not so great, but I did laugh in spots. And had breakfast at 6pm. Probably the best part of the day. Excellent stuff. Some sort of sausage and cheese and apple weem. All of which is probably coursing through my heart, packing the arteries with fat and sugar. 

Found out that Crossword had a children's books sale. I'd carried along my Diwali coupons (it's April and Diwali was in October-November. Fish say I'm slow) and bought some books... for the kiddies who will bother me for birthday presents this year. Though they are going to be most unhappy at what i got them. books and magnetic bookmarks. i was kicked by the idea of it. i even saw a torch one mounts on a page to read at night. almost bought that. interesting stuff though. i saw a Thor comic, Tintins etc etc. brought back childhood memories. how different they are from this generation's book/comic-reading memories. i remember seeing women warriors with exposed breasts in a Hercules and his 12 labours book. i wonder who was titillated more, the boy it was bought for or me.
I bought Jeffrey Archer's latest Clifton saga book. can't remember the name. but i keep thinking his themes are recurring. the books go so quickly, but you wonder why it seems familiar. in any case, he pleases me.

Returned home. to a furnace. so hot. so reluctant was i to enter home i went to my sister in law's place. only to find it hotter. made her give me a glass of kokum juice, massage my legs and kidneys (just kidding), looked into her fish tank to see if i could spot the pair of shrimps. Couldn't see them.

Dull day, right?

Tuesday 23 April 2013

Typical day

Read the newspaper.
not end to end.

filled ink into a dissipated malfunctioning pen. It's not a bad sort. just having a crustified-ink day.

it has been malfunctioning and my heart has been doing a bit of moue. what are the other options if this one dies.
while biting my fingers, wondering why the soap couldn't get rid of the egg yolk smell. strange how the scent of sausage didn't stick.
would you wear sausage perfume?

had two eggs today. some sausages.

while eating them, all i could think of was my recent blood test.

wondered how much my two recent eggs and several pork salamis would frustrate expectations that the doctor might have.... if he ordered me to have another blood test tomorrow. Plus i had a tang. i remember having a bottle of tang two days before my last blood test. can the sugar hide in my blood for so long? i haven't been running around in the nearby garden for some days. i meant walk. i can't run.

why am i behaving this way. i've grown up with diabetics. eaten the heart patient diet. but i'm annoyed i won't be able to eat cheese occasionally or butter. which really was occasional.

i don't want to eat unhappily for the rest of my life. especially having to look at food blogs and all the heavenly pictures. truly, i've never manufactured anything that looks so good in my kitchen. is it the camera, photograph. or photoshop. or maybe the doily and lighting.

 

The working world

My sister in law and i had an interesting conversation recently.

we were discussing jobs. she wanted one and i wanted to move.

i told her i wanted static hours and it was nice to work from home. but every interview i seem to go for, seems to have a 24x7 theme. come to work. work at work. go home, log in, work till you drop. or maybe keep working past that.
i told one managing director that i didn't want to work weekends or at home, or past the hours i was expected to. he wasn't happy. he didn't like what he heard. i didn't think he'd respond or write back to me. the position has been vacant for a couple of years.

i asked a friend about the interview. he told me he used to do that for years. go to work. stay late. go home and start working on a laptop the office had provided him. he usually leaves a job because he thinks they are not paying him enough. he said that his office had more work than our former office. he didn't feel the need to draw boundaries between the workplace and home. but he did tell me once that he wasn't happy about his wife wanting to work. if he earned so much, why should she work.

is that why he works late hours? more money? or doesn't he know how to say 'no'. does he want to say 'no'.
does he know what is reasonable anymore?

back to what my sister in law and i were discussing.

she told me about the employment fair for women in mumbai recently. i'd seen it in the newspaper. but didn't read about it. sadly. she told me that the turnout was huge. wildly beyond expectations. whose expectations and how she knows, i don't know.

she added that a lot of the women at the fair were looking for part-time work and better working hours. and her company had hired two women, who were from advertising, but were already showing that they were very good at what they did.

it reminded me of another friend in her late 30s who quit her job in a huff. she's very talented, but the company made her work very long hours. it made her disatisfied, especially when they wouldn't allow her to do her exams or study.
and this is something i see all across. at newspapers. corporates. the smart companies recognise talent and do a case-by-case. but what about the rest.

a regular line at companies is, if you don't do it, you will be replaced. that's easy, there are so many people that can replace you. but at what cost. is the new person as good? getting them to speed will take a long time. do they have the qualities you require? one can repent in leisure. 

these days i want to get out of the race. i started thinking this way over the last year or so. but now i wonder if all the heart burn is worth it. my biggest worry -- will i be able to afford an early retirement.

i have more to say. but perhaps later.




 
At my desk.

Thinking about how i haven't read a book since i started working from home. i don't know why. is it the book. is it the space. is it me.

i would normally say 'me'.

people have been oohing and ahhing about the work-from-home biz. but come every saturday/sunday and i wonder what happened during the week. it all feels seamless. where did it all go. i'm sure i'll say otherwise once a commute starts.

the 'not reading' is worrying. what happens when i retire? my sister says she will only sleep. i don't think you can sleep too much, i can't sleep at night. what happens to everything and everyone else when you sleep. they will want food and etc.

i was wondering if the lethargy was due to the aimlessness of my day. then i found out there was a practical reason. anemia. it won't make me read a book. but perhaps the doc can stick some iron into me and, maybe, something may move... forward.

not reading is worrying though.

i once thought reading children's books in your adulthood was worrying. until i reasoned, that i'd read more adult books than children's books in my childhood to make up.


 

Monday 22 April 2013

activity

sigh...
i changed the name
and changed it back

i dont know
whether to hold my head
or ......
i can hear a hyena in the background

 

Name calling

Very frustrated.
i want to change the name of this blog.

until i went online to look for my blog
i didn't realise how lost
and tiny
and insignificant i could be!

help .... me...  change this ... blog name.
no offense anil
fish were right
i am out of my depth
i'm standing in a pail of water
and feeling the chill
 

The unitiated... or perhaps the unsavvy

The strangest thing.
well, with me, not so strange.
so i started the new blog
have been trying hard to protect my identity
but i not only lost the blog
cant find it anywhere
even via google
so had to login again
and voila.

now i think i need to change the blog's name
a google led me to a few thousand fish
er... options

any ideas?
 

What next

Umm. so after the hubris
what next

fish say
i'm out of my depth
interesting thing
for them to say

 

Day 1

Yahoo?
i'm so tech-challenged i'd been asking various friends/family to help me start a blog.
and here i am. i didn't realise it was that easy.
now i'm worried people will find out.
and there goes my privacy :D
but who'd start a blog, if they wanted it private.
my friend anil even suggested the name. i like it. thanks anil :)
definitely no eecummins