Jei Ho!

Pre-script 1: The good people at BlogAdda have interviewed the Bartender Bhai here. Special thanks to the interviewer Harish for his patience -- I think I asked him more questions than he asked me!

Pre-script 2: If you're wondering about the 'typo' in the post title, read on. Post abhi baaki hai, mere dost!

So S2/D2/P2 arrived back in Singapore today. (Bewdas who are new to the bar may need to refer to this post to find out who they are.)

"Shall we go receive them at the airport? They're landing early in the morning on saturday." Pizzadude wrote gleefully to Viv and me a few days ago. I can assure you that this was no caring friend talking. This was a man who had been burning in the fire of vengeance since this little incident. And this seemed like the perfect little opportunity for him to have his revenge. Of course Viv and I got involved. We're only happy to get involved in anything that involves these keywords - S2/P2/D2, Pizzadude, a high degree of embarrassment, and of course, a camera for posterity.

And as is normal with us, what's a project without a title? And thanks to Viv's project-naming skills, project JEI HO was conceptualised and finalised partly over email and partly over mysore masala dosas last night.

So there we were, up at 5 am this morning, armed with the following:

- One steel thaali
- One small container of sindoor
- The ugliest garland in the world (See picture at your own risk. Warning: graphic image; parental guidance advised)
- One homemade poster (you'll see)

So we took at cab at 5.30 am to the train station and then a train to the airport. It was in the cab that we suddenly realised that in our sleepy and dazed state, we had forgotten the camera at home! Damn you lucky S2/D2/P2! Anyway, we decided to take the videos and photos using Viv's phone instead.

The train ride was rather eventful, and as often happens when you make a journey at an unearthly hour, the talk was inane. We discussed the possible superpowers of our homegrown superhero Veshtiman (read more about Veshtiman here). Viv is still working out the finer details of how many ways Veshtiman can use his veshti in, to save the world, but that's a whole other post (coming soon).

Meanwhile, the three of us reached the airport and freaked out to see that the flight had already landed. We hid behind the pillars and waited and waited and wondered and wondered. "What if they have already gone home? What if they pulled a fast one on us and told us the wrong flight timing??" In the midst of discussing how we would avoid ending up as the "embarrasees" in the case of either of the scenarios being true, we spotted S2/D2/P2! PHEW!

So we hid behind the pillar again, and just when the unsuspecting couple came out, we ambushed them with this poster. Proudly held high, to the amusement of onlookers! (There sure were a lot of people at the airport at an unearthly time like that!)













(Of course, I have blurred out the wedding pictures in the poster. I may be the Bhai, but sleep-deprived furious brides who have just been 'surprised' at the airport can be ahem, quite unpredictable.)

This was duly followed by the 'teeka ceremony' at the airport itself, and then we made the couple exchange the ugly garland. Well, there was only one garland, so there was no 'exchange' as such, we just used the same one. Shub remarked, "Thank goodness there is no aarti!" and then immediately retracted it with, "Wait, that's a dangerous statement to make." (Inside joke: When we had ambushed Pizzadude with the poster at the airport last year, he had said, "Thank goodness you didn't get a garland or something!" and Viv immediately took the garland out and honoured him with it. Muahahaha!)

But to Shub's relief, there actually was no aarti. We had briefly considered the aarti and ghanti, but we dropped the idea as we were not sure of Singapore's jail procedures for lighting a fire in Changi airport, and whether we could be bailed out in time to go to work on Monday.

Oh well.

Anyway, S2/D2/P2, it's good to have you guys back! Really. :)

JEI HO!

PS: Ooh I almost forgot to disclose what JEI HO stands for! It's Joint Embarrassment Initiative for Husbandu and Oifu.

Power trip

Finally, I witnessed my first 100% South Indian wedding. (Actually, my own wedding would have been one too, except for one little factor that didn't meet the specifications -- the bride.)

Every now and then, I'd be overcome with amazement that I was at the wedding of someone whom I met through my blog! I liked this conversation between Pizzadude and Urv (fellow blogger-attendees at the wedding):

Urv - "How crazy is it on a scale of 1 to 10 to attend someone's wedding whom you have just met?"
Pizzadude - "19."

Of course, trying to explain to Shub's and Sumanth's surprised relatives how exactly I know the bride and groom without bringing in the blogs was a bit tricky, but most of the time, we got out of it by saying, "We're their friends from Singapore."

The wedding also proved to be a bloggers' meet of sorts, as I finally met Urv and Ved (technically not a blogger yet, but that will soon change -- *pauses to muahahaha* -- as Pizzadude and I have already started the brainwash process). Wait and watch.

Poor Urv and Ved. Where there are two Gujjus, will the Gujju jokes be behind? Viv and Sumanth were making plans for go-karting at this place called Patel's Inn. Urv had also expressed interest and so when he called to confirm he was joining, all of us yelled out at the same time, "Gujju discount!" Sheesh. Oh, by the way, Pizzadude and I have decided to do the 'G-U-J-J-U' dance from Kal Ho Na Ho at the next Gujju wedding we attend.

The wedding was great fun, especially for me, because I was considered as being from the groom's side (*ducks to avoid bridal chappal thrown by Shub*) and so got to partake in many of the ceremonies such as dousing him in turmeric, pouring rice over his hair and other such fun stuff. Fun for me, not him, of course. It is also noteworthy that Pizzadude, Viv and I woke up at 5 am, even before the bride and the groom did, just so we could be sure not to miss even the slightest detail of the early-morning wedding.

On the wedding day, I was feeling like the odd one out in my chiffon sari, surrounded by all the Kanjeevaram ones. I instantly felt better when my friend V looked at me and said, "If you were single, some 5-6 mamis would have surrounded you, asking you for your horoscope!" Heh heh!

I know I am digressing but speaking of the mamis, I got the pottu (bindi) lecture from one of them the other day. The pottu lecture is a lecture given to every non-pottu-wearing girl at some point in time or the other. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for pottus. But I only wear them with a sari or a salwar kameez. On this rather fateful day, I was in jeans and a T-shirt. The T-shirt had some text -- I’m not quite sure what as I had bought the T-shirt because I liked the colour -- but I’m sure it must have been something T-shirty (read rude). Point being – that’s the last outfit you would want to wear a pottu with. But as soon as this mami found out I had married a south Indian, out came the pottu lecture and how I should always wear a pottu no matter what clothes I’m wearing. So I smiled and nodded as I always do whenever I get the pottu lecture. Insincere, yes, but better than saying “Are you kidding me??” isn’t it?

Anyway, going back to the wedding, Viv and Pizzadude had decided to turn up in veshtis for the wedding. Pizzadude was so comfortable it seemed like he was born in one, earning himself the nickname 'Veshti-man' (We actually sang the theme song about the friendly neighbourhood Veshti-man whose veshti doubles up as his cape). Viv, however, had a tough time managing his, which almost fell off four times. So much for his proud "Of-course-I-don't-need-a-belt-I-can-handle-this."

During one of the ceremonies, the aunties had to nazar utaaro the bride and groom with laddoos and then gently toss the laddoos, one each in the four directions. Some aunties got a bit too excited and started hurling them like cricket balls. One of them went and hit a guy on the nose, while the other crossed the wall and landed on the road, prompting everyone to raise both hands and yell "Sixer!" How we laughed!

No marriage is complete without food. I do not even know how to begin talking about the food. Let''s just say I have never had so many banana leaf meals in my entire life as I had during the wedding. While I was almost dying of shock looking at the quantities, Viv was slurping away. In fact, he was the cook's clear favourite. Everyone kept telling him that he was the only one doing justice to the food, which prompted him to crack this food court joke.

Q - What do you do in a food court?
A - Justice to food.

As he wiped off the third helping of rice and rasam within seconds, somebody made a cricket joke, "Power play, eh, Viv?" Next thing I know, the guy serving me (obviously a cricket fan too) is grinning at everyone, pointing at me and saying, "But Madam here has declared." Sheesh.

At times, I felt like the guys who were serving the food were invisible! You don't even see them coming and suddenly you find yourself facing a rather large model of Mount Everest, made entirely of rice. Viv's very crucial advice to me was, "Watch your banana leaf, or it will auto-refresh." Very true. These guys just don't take no for an answer. In fact, there was this time, the offended cook himself marched all the way to my seat to teach me a thing or two, because I had refused the seventeenth helping of rasam.

If you are faced with one of these banana leaf serving guys, only the secret password can come to your rescue. One word. In fact, the only Kannada word I learnt in this trip. The life-saving "solpa" ("a little").

The wedding also had babies galore whom we subjected to our weird facial expressions in an attempt to make them laugh, but more often than not, reducing them to tears. Sumanth's 5-month-old niece, however, was quite receptive towards me and would often smile when she saw me. Of course, there were times she'd burst out crying, but it looked like she wasn't quite sure why exactly she had started crying in the first place. However, being a baby of principle, she'd ensure she finished what she'd started and conclude the crying in proper fashion.

Shub's elder niece of about three was initially shy, but after I put henna on her hands, she got all chatty and even declared that she liked me the most. I was instantly warned not to relate the incident to Vidya, one of Shub's best friends, upon whom the kid had bestowed the same title earlier. Oh by the way, Vidya reads this blog and I believe she is now fuming at the big fat thenga I am showing her. Muahahaha!

Then there was Shub's younger niece who had the most amazing hair-o-dynamics I have ever seen on a 6-month-old! And last, but not the least was another cousin of Sumanth's, also of about the same age, but with the amazing ability to drink from a steel tumbler. The baby finished two tumblerfuls of coconut water, and did not even pause to breathe or burp even once as she gulped them down. You had to see it to believe it!

Throughout the wedding, we came up with corny nicknames for the bride and groom. S2 (for obvious reasons), D2 (Dulha-Dulhan), P2 (Pati-Patni), and my favourite - husbandu and oifu! :D

Sumanth was such an awesomely DIY dulha. He was on his toes the entire time and yet, made time for us and drove us around, still maintaining his characteristic sense of humour, which is actually quite uncharacteristic of Indian weddings. Great guy. (Shub, you are also OK.)

Speaking of driving around, holy shit, Bangalore is all dug up for the metro, eh? As Viv says, the theme song for Bangalore should be 'Khudaya khair' from Billu. The traffic is more insane than what I remember from my trip there last year. But the drives were made so much more fun by Indian radio! Corny as it may be, I totally love the Ulfat 'Seekho mere saathu, Englis ki do baatu' Sultan chap, as he tries to teach the difference between 'motion' and 'emotion', 'shy' and 'cry' and 'propose' and 'dispose'.

Over the radio, we also managed to catch this uberly hilarious Kannada song. I don't know the lyrics, but it went something like:

"Australia, Nigeria, Cambodia,
Columbia, Malaysia, Namibia,
India Mandya India."

The guy just continued churning out country names ending with 'ia' with every stanza of the song, till I felt he was going to run out of countries and start singing "Malaria, Diphtheria, Diarrhoea!"

As if all the food we had at the wedding wasn't enough, we went on a food trip around Bangalore under the able guidance of the biggest foodie I know - Pizzadude. Of course, the highlight was Food Street, a quaint galli located in V. V. Puram, with stalls selling everything from masala Thums Up to masala dosa. We started off at the dosa stall, where the dosa-maker was holding a packet of ghee over the dosas. The packet had a tiny slit, and he was squirting ghee over the dosas like nobody's business. The dosas were so yummy we couldn't care less. We also had pani puri, pav bhaji, some sweet yellow pancake thingy (which I just learnt from Pizzadude's blog is called holige), and my favourite gobi manchurian! Yummy!

We didn't have too much time as we also had to visit Viv's cousin that evening (he has three sets of relatives in Bangalore) otherwise I'd have gone for another round of pani puri. Like I say, "Pani puri ke liye jagah pet mein nahin, dil mein hona mangta hai!" Till the day I left Bangalore, I had pani puri every single day. To the point that I shamelessly had pani puri on two consecutive days at a stall right outside the wedding mandap, in my heavy sari and lehenga respectively! I even had a rating system for the various locations where I had it, and Gullu's came tops. Of course, I deducted 1 point because Gullu junior dared to shoot the offensive "Medium?" question at me when asking me how spicy I wanted my pani puris. Medium meri jooti!

I had also been looking forward to McDonald's. Who looks forward to McDonald's, you ask. Well, when they have something as awesome as the paneer salsa wrap, there is not much you can do but give in. I also OD'ed quite a bit on... Maaza hi Maaza! Shaam sawere hun Maaza hi Maaaaazaaaaaaa! :D

Ooh, I almost forgot the shopping. When we got back to Shub's place after our shopping, and Shub asked, "So how was it?" Viv answered, "Let's just say Commercial Street has relocated to the boot of the car." True true.

We also went DVD shopping to Landmark, and at the sight of the thousands of Bollywood DVDs in front of me, I went quite nuts. We actually looked through every single DVD they had before picking out 13. In fact, I think they suspected something fishy was happening in the DVD section over their security cameras and actually sent a guard over to watch us. Sheesh.

After the wedding, we made a short trip to Puttur (took an overnight train, and talked into the wee hours of the morning), where we got to see plantations of araca nuts, vanilla and cocoa, and also cow farms. I actually touched the forehead of a cow! The last and only time I had touched a cow was when I was about 6 years old and was visiting my Dad’s ancestral home in his village. I had gone on a brave venture to attempt to milk a cow, who had almost whip-lashed me into oblivion with her offended tail. The cows at Puttur, however, seemed more respectful towards curious visitors like us.

We visited three of Sumanth’s relatives who fed us and fed us and fed us until they could feed us no more. We started off with mango juice made from mangoes grown in the backyard, followed by idlis that were twice the size of normal idlis, then mango payasam, then bananas, then a full banana leaf lunch. I believe that at some point in time, there were jalebis, pies and pineapple juice too, but my mind had blanked out by then so I don’t quite remember where we had them. And after all of that, we went to this ice-cream place because Sumanth insisted we had to try this sundae called ‘gadbad’. Gadbad was truly worth it, even though the next day my stomach experienced an emotion of the same name.

The trip was full of insane levels of travelling. We pretty much covered all modes of travel - plane, train, bus, car, cab, scooter and autorickshaw. Speaking of scooters, I was so amused at how offended Pizzadude got when I called his Activa a scooter.

Pizzadude (very offended) - "It's not a scooter. It's an Activa."
Me - "But Activa is a scooter, no?"
Pizzadude - No, it's not a scooter! It's an Activa.
Me - Then what is a scooter?
Pizzadude - Scooter is like... Bajaj!
Me - And Activa is not a scooter?
Pizzadude - No.
Ok this could have gone on forever.
Me - Erm... okay, do you have to tilt it when it doesn't start?
Pizzadude - NO!
Me - Ok then, that's settled. It's not a scooter.
Pizzadude - *big grin*

Shub also took me on a ride around her place on her scoo... I mean Activa. And then she actually let me ride it for a while! Under Viv's supervision, of course. Sheesh. The closest thing to an Activa I'd ridden was a jet ski in Bintan so at first I thought the brake was the accelerator as in the jet ski. If you have been on a jet ski, you'll know what I mean. No wonder I kept wondering why the scoo... Activa kept stopping when I wanted it to go faster! :P

All right, back to Puttur. After about half a day at Puttur, we set off for Mangalore where I finally tasted the famous Mangalore fish curry (yes, we ate. Again.) Finally, to the newlyweds’ relief, Pizzadude, Viv and I left them alone and made our way back to Singapore. We have been depressed since.

The warmth and hospitality you see in India is one of its kind. And it’s uniform across the country. Both the bride's and groom's parents behaved exactly like my parents do -- take in their children's friends as their own children. Incredibly heart-warming. We spent some 9 nights in India and almost every night, we found ourselves in a different house. And everywhere, we were greeted with the same warm and welcoming smiles.

The trip was all about greeting, meeting and eating. I resisted the urge to switch on my phone and also put a restraining order on myself when it came to computers.

I had no connectivity. But I didn't give a damn. I'd still managed to connect.

.

PS: That was not a pottu. That was a kala teeka for the husbandu and oifu.

The thunder thief

Not many people would have had the experience of pouring sambar into a katori under the watchful eyes of a Chinese lady who speaks fluent tamil, and who had also made the sambar, by the way.

So I've started volunteering in the kitchen of the restaurant owned by the Temple of Fine Arts. The restaurant is run by volunteers who do most of the chores like cooking and serving the food. I've always wanted to volunteer there (being a firm believer of the notion that cooking and serving food to others are amongst the noblest things one can do) but I firmed up the details only after Viv and I held a post-wedding party for our close friends at that restaurant. The organisers had done an amazing job with the decor at the party and even had the two customary chairs which are so mandatory at Indian wedding receptions. And not to mention my favourite flowers - pink gerberas!

At the party, we had done a slideshow for our guests, mainly to showcase what our 'south Indian-north Indian' mix wedding was like. After the party, we got several emails, including one from the event manager, telling us that they found the slideshow really funny. I still remember the slide that got the most laughs. Many relatives, upon finding out that I was marrying a south Indian had called to ask me what Viv looked like. To make things interesting, I'd told 'em gasping relatives that he looked like South Indian superstar Mammootty. No offence to Mammootty, but aforementioned relatives were very relieved when they finally saw Viv. I told this story at the party and even had a Mammootty vs. Viv comparison slide. I guess everyone at the restaurant remembered that because on the first day of my volunteering, I was introduced to each of the other volunteers as "the girl who had her wedding party and the funny slideshow here last month".

Anyway, today they needed help for a catering event for 500 people, and my mom-in-law and I pitched in. We had almost finished preparing 500 pieces of banana leaves, when the event manager came up to me, smiled and said, "Sayesha, there's a new volunteer and I want you to help him settle down." I turned around and the "new volunteer" turned out to be the man Viv himself! He had a meeting in the morning, but I'd asked him to join us if he finished early.

We were put in charge of preparing two trays of mithai. Both of us put some amazing teamwork and our geeky engineer-brains to work in order to calculate how we could best arrange the three different kinds of mithai into a pattern using two trays in a way that all of it was used up. We made a futile attempt to make the others understand our precise use of mathematics in the mithai arrangement, but they kinda just gave up and we were left to do our 'exciting calculations'.

After the mithai was done, the tamil-speaking Chinese sambar-lady put Viv in charge of making the coconut chutney. Under her watchful eye, of course. Viv made a ridiculous amount of chutney - the container itself was the kind from which buffaloes drink water! It was hilarious to see him make the chutney in the funny mixer that did not have a lid so he had to keep his hand on top, and every time he opened the mixer, bits of chutney went flying in all directions. I put on an apron for him, to protect him from the flying chutney. But he still managed to get drops of the pakora batter (pakora man was standing right behind Viv) neatly deposited in the form of yellow dots amidst the blue dots on his white shirt. After a while, sambar-lady left Viv to handle the chutney all by himself. Sheesh! This guy just walks in and wins everyone over! I suspected that she trusted his chutney-making skills more than she trusted my sambar-pouring skills! Hmmmph! Ok fine I admit it, I was beginning to get really jealous.

And then there was the guy who renamed me. One of the volunteers was this really young chap. He approached me hesitantly.

"Errr...." he said to me, and paused, as if trying to place where he knew me from.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Uhhh...."

I was getting a bit tired of smiling politely and waiting for his memory to revert to him, when he got it.

"Oh yeah! Now I remember! You're the south-meets-north slideshow girl!"

"Huh? I'm the what?"

"The south-meets-north slideshow girl... your husband is Viv, right?"

"Ohh... er, yeah, that would be me." I said out aloud.

But in my head, I was saying something else.

What the...?! "Viv" you know! But "Sayesha" you don't! He has a name, but I don't? He is Viv, and I'm just random south-meets-north slideshow girl??? :/

"Sheesh, Viv... you steal my thunder one more time and..." My thoughts were interrupted by another introduction session.

"This is Sayesha, she and her husband Viv had their wedding party here last month, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I think Viv sent us a very nice 'Thank you' email after the event." came the reply.

Dubbal sheesh!

It was me who had sent the very nice 'Thank you' email after the event. Me, not Viv. Just like most people, I like to get my fair credit where it's due. And I especially can't tolerate anyone stealing my thunder. Argh.

Ah well. Just one more balidaan by bhartiya naari for pati parmeshwar. I'm used to it now. Well, almost. A cousin speaks to him for the first time on the phone for like ten minutes and declares that he likes Viv more than he likes me. Gee thanks. Bro, you choose random stranger over 26 years of cousin-ship? My folks are so proud of him because he can speak my language but I'm still struggling with his! But Tamil is a terribly terribly difficult language, but no one gives me credit for that! Waaaaaaaaaa! :'(

And not just in the real world! 2 years at the bar. 488 posts. 16692 comments. And this guy just saunters along and becomes the laadla of every bewda/bewdi at the bar! People message me on gtalk, "So when is Viv playing pictionary again?"

Bhai does the hard work, guy gets the bouquets.

Sigh.

I guess it's true then.

Behind every successful man is a random south-meets-north slideshow girl. :/

Khare pani re

Note: I've been getting a lot of emails and comments asking me when my wedding is. Errr... well... the wedding's kinda over. If you're shocked, it's great news, cos it just proves Bhai hasn't changed. Muahahaha! :D
(Errrm... perhaps I should wait a few more days before going muahaha. Bhai's gotta maintain the bridal demure behaviour for a few days at least. Ahem.)

So my parents and mamaji were discussing the menu for the wedding reception dinner when they called me.

"Sayesha, would you like to add anything to the menu?" They asked me.

"Err... can we have pani puri?" I asked. Two of my friends were coming from Singapore to attend my wedding, and I really really wanted them to try pani puri. The problem was that unlike Indians who have lived amidst pollution and germs, foreigners' stomachs don't quite take to roadside pani puri the way ours' do. So my plan was - mineral water pani puri at the wedding! Muahahaha! :D Oops.

"You want pani puri?? Really??" They looked serious.

"Errr... yeah, is it possible?" I asked hesitatingly, not quite sure if the bride-to-be could provide input for the reception dinner.

They burst out laughing.

"Of course we're including a pani puri stall. It's your wedding, after all!"

Phew.

So at the reception, as I tried my best to look demure in the 35-kg sari and an equal mass of gold jewellery on me, smiling and greeting hundreds of people I'd never seen in my life, I got kinda hungry. Hungry for pani puri actually. But the guests kept arriving and I could not move beyond a 2-feet radius from the royal throne-like things on the stage on which Viv and I were supposed to sit. As the crowd started thinning, I started to look more and more radiant at the thought of the pani puris that were waiting for me. I'd been hearing rave reviews about how spicy and yummy they were.

Suddenly, Dad and Mom walked towards the stage. They looked kinda distraught.

"Sayesha..."

"What? What? What happened?"

"The pani puris..."

"What? What? What happened to the pani puris??"

"They kinda got over..."

"Got over????? The pani puris got over???"

I'm fortunate that the cameraman was not around to capture my expression.

"Yeah, apparently they were very popular..."

"There are no pani puris for me????" I was aghast.

And now I know why Indian brides cry at their weddings.

Kol Kata Aaj Cuttack

Bhai's whereabouts: I have moved out of Calcutta and landed at Cuttack (my ancestral home) and finally got net access! I think my fingers jumped with joy at the touch of a keyboard after so long, even though most of the keys have had their letters rubbed off so I'm just typing on blank keys. My Dad saw me doing that and kinda freaked out. :P

A few months ago, Dad told me he was getting a transfer. I wasn't happy. I hadn't seen Lucknow and looked like he would be outta there before I visited India next. He told me he didn't know where he was getting transferred to, but he was trying for one of the eastern states.

"Dad, go anywhere but Calcutta, okay?" I was not really a fan of Calcutta as my last encounter with the city had left behind images of the bad traffic, crowds and pollution.

A few days later, after consultation with his good friend Murphy, Dad called me. He sounded very cheerful.

"I'm getting transferred to Calcutta!" He said.

Gee, thanks a lot, Dad. :/

So when I packed my bags and part of my wedding shopping and landed at Calcutta on the 5th of January, I wasn't exactly ecstatic. But somehow, within the very first week, the city seemed to grow on me. I would go with Dad for his morning walks and check out the roadside sabziwalas selling amazingly fresh vegetables. They even have customer service now, the fish seller insisted on buying Dad a cup of tea as he waited for the fish to be cut. It was hilarious to see Dad try and converse with them in Bengali considering that his vocabulary is limited to 'Koto kori?" Even Mom sounds adorable when she struggles with Bengali while speaking to the domestic helper, who by the way remarked that my Bengali was better than Mom's. Muahahaha! :D

Our neighbour took an instant liking to me and I'm still trying to figure out why. Her Bengali-mixed Hindi is so cute it's almost distracting. "Tumi itna roga kyun?" She asked me. ("Why are you so thin?") Also, "Aami shokaal mein thaanda jol chul mein daalkar chan kiya." ("I washed my hair with cold water while bathing this morning.") Why one would do that in winter is beyond me, but apparently she likes bathing with cold water. Brrrr!

Baby Aish is here too, and attempting to stuff all her toes into her mouth seems to be her ultimate goal in life, while mine seems to be teach her to do a high five, which is more like her entire hand against my thumb. Her other antics include holding up the book I bought her (yes yes, there are books for infants) between her legs, and turning the pages with her hands. And oh, she spoke her first word and it is "This." I swear. Actually it's more like "Thissss!"

And may I also mention that I have successfully convinced baby Aish that I am John Abraham. Come to think of it, "Sayesha, you look like John Abraham." is not exactly a compliment, but she was watching the song "Where's the paty tonight?" on TV and really smiling whenever they showed John, and suddenly the song changed and she started crying so I kinda continued from where John had left off and she smiled again, even though I kept repeating "Where's the party tonight? On the dance floor!" like a zillion times because I don't know the lyrics, but she was happy to see me prance around I guess. It's amazing how she has made a singer and dancer of everyone in my family. And I seriously believe that I have lost the ability to speak in anything other than baby talk.

Things are still the same at home though. The fight for the remote control continues. I continue to treat my elder sister like my baby sister. Speaking of which, baby Aish caught a cold, and we took her to a child clinic. The paediatrician took one look at my sister and baby Aish and said "So which one of you is my patient??"

We've been wedding-shopping every single day. Frankly speaking, it feels great not to have a job to wake up to, and just roam around Calcutta and spend Dad's money. Mom has got the hang of crossing the busy streets of Calcutta with such expertise that I'm absolutely amazed! This is how it happens:

Mom - Okay, cross after the taxi!
Me - Err.. which one of the twenty thousand??
Mom - Arre...This one...
Me - Uhh... are you sure?
Mom - Go now! Chalchalchal!
Me - Jai ma Kalkatte-wali!

While looking for my wedding sari, I met a few interesting characters. These days, when you're selecting a sari, the shopkeepers ask you "Should I drape it?" It basically means that they will help to drape it around you using a Velcro belt so that you don't really have to 'wear' it to see how you will look in it. I remember this one particular shopkeeper who was showing us a sari that I really liked. "Should I drape it?" He asked. "Yes yes." I said. What happened in the next few seconds is something I would have never imagined. The dude draped the sari around himself!!! I think it will take me a while to get rid of the image of that moustached man in what could have potentially been MY wedding sari. Sheesh! Obviously I could not look at that sari the same way again. The guy is probably sitting in his shop and wondering to this day what made me reject the sari that I had initially been so enthusiatic about.

After the wedding saris were bought, we went to the tailor to get the blouses stitched. When I saw them, the blouses looked breathtakingly beautiful! When I tried them on, they were...err... breath-taking.

"Dude, I can't quite remember asking you to stitch corsets." I wanted to say to the tailor, but I managed with a "Khoob tight aachhe." ("It's very tight.") He went on to give me a long lecture on how girls of today like me don't wear saris, and so we have no idea that blouses are meant to be tight. "Aap Star Plus dekhta hai? Saas-bahu wala sherial? Usme blousa dekha? Shob tight hota." He said. ("Do you watch Star Plus channel? The mom-in-law and daughter-in-law type soaps? Seen the blouses they wear? They're all tight.") The dude even got his mother to try and convince me that the blouses were fine, and it was only because I was not used to wearing them that I found them so tight. Anyway, we came home, and Mom and I altered them ourselves, and now I think I can breathe when I wear them. Here's one sashtang pranaam to all the women out there who can manage to stay alive in those blouses. :O

I'm also trying to learn how to tie a sari myself. And yes I do watch the saas-bahu serials to check out the way the bahus seem to effortlessly carry the heavy saris and jewellery.

Shopping in Cuttack will start tomorrow. The weather here is nice too, it's not as cold as Calcutta but it's pleasant. Baby Aish and I have become the centre of attention of everyone. I think even the dog here (I call him Manohar, cos I dunno his real name) is feeling kinda jealous.

Relatives are fawning over me like anything, and I'm loving the attention. Some of them are asking me funny questions. "Is the boy nice?" Hehehe... what do they expect me to say? "No, actually he's not, I'm just marrying him for the heck of it!"? :P

I'm also undergoing the ceremony whereby everyone thinks that it is good luck to invite the bride-to-be for lunch/dinner and stuff her with stuff fried in desi ghee. Sheesh! I'm eating so much here I'm amazed at myself. The servants too (some of whom have seen me from my diaper days) are also pampering me with all my favourite dishes. The tailor's warning rings in my ears "E jo aapka figaar hai na figaar? Usko maintain rokhte hobey!" ("You must maintain this figure of yours.") Sheesh! :/

That's all from me as of now. I will try to update more if I can squirm out of adoring aunts pinching my cheeks and saying "Sayesha!! I saw you when you were a little baby! I can't believe you're getting married!"

Well, frankly speaking, I didn't see myself as a little baby, and even I can't believe I'm getting married! :O

Dad-in-law, bahu outlaw?

Hmmm...

Some time ago, I made a discovery.

I'm wondering if I should freak out that ________.

(A) my dad-in-law-to-be knows my blog when even my parents don't
(B) my dad-in-law-to-be has been reading my blog for quite some time now
(C) my dad-in-law-to-be reads my blog every day and yet I'm not freaking out
(D) my dad-in-law-to-be is reading this post about him reading my blog and yet I'm not freaking out

I've not done this officially, so here goes.

Welcome to my blog, dad-in-law-to-be. :)

About a boy

• He and I are worlds apart. He's patient, I'm jumpy. He's quiet, I'm chatty. As Raam Pyari would say - he's the sensible types, I'm the crackpot types. :/
• He's a geeky nerd. And a nerdy geek. :/
• He's smarter than me. :/
  
• He's into programming languages. :/
• He still laughs at the funny red sports shoes I used to have in university years ago, and gleefully describes them to everyone. :/
• In the last 8 years that I have been friends with him, I have told him about all of my 3 million crushes, but he has only told me of 3 (of which I am one). :/
• He's way fitter than me. :/
  
• He spends his entire weekend playing cricket. :/
• He gets a new injury at cricket every weekend. :/
• He always forgets to put on sunscreen during his cricket matches and turns up for dinner looking like a bhoot. :/
• He works very late hours. :/
• He is too tall, even for my highest heels. :/
• He keeps insisting that SRK and Karan Johar are a couple, just to bug me. :/
• He wants the computer whenever I am blogging. :/
• He doesn't get haircuts on time. :/
• He begins sentences and doesn't end them. :/
• He comes up with weird nicknames for my colleagues. :/
  
• He claims to be a cook but he can make only one dish. :/
• He insists that the only earrings that look good on me are the little silver studs because he gave me those millions of years ago. :/
• He chides me for being careless with money. :/
  
• His PJs are worse than mine (I know it's hard to believe). :/
• He woos my cousins over with ten-minute phone conversations, and then they tell me that they like him more than they like me. :/
• He sings the wrong lyrics of Hindi songs and actually makes them sound correct. :/
• He never turns up anywhere on time. :/
• He makes me miss Hindi movie trailers. :/
• He sleeps in Hindi movies, and then suddenly wakes up and says "Kya hua? Kya hua??" :/
• He irritates me, grins and then says "I irritate you so much na?" :/

But in spite of all this - he is the only guy who totally gets me.

And that's why he gets me. :)

Whose wedding is it anyway?

There is one secret technique that 20-somethings all over the world use when parents pressure them about marriage.

"Pehle meri padhai toh khatam hone do!" ("Let me finish my studies first!")

What these unsuspecting 20-somethings don't know is that their parents are smarter than them (In the words of Amitabh Bachchan “Oye chak de phatte, main tera baap hoon!”). They pretend to buy that excuse just to make you feel smarter, but what you don't know is that they are really taking it literally. So the moment you finish that Master's/MBA/random-course-you-take-up-to-escape-marriage, they'll pin you down on your own words.

Sayesha is no exception.

My friends always said I would make an unconventional bride. And it seems they were right.

I got in touch with a school friend after years. She lives in the same city as my parents.

Friend - So what's the latest in your life?

Me - Oh, I finished my exams! My dissertation's just got first approval.

She - Achha? And...?

Me - Oh I just got a promotion. And hey I am going to Pakistan!

She - Bas? Anything else?

Me - Errr... let me think... hmmm...

She - *string of gaalis* I just spoke to your mom! How could you not tell me THE NEWS first? *longer string of gaalis*

Me – Um... yeah, am kinda getting married.

She - Kinda? Sheesh, tu nahin badli! So are you excited? What does the guy do? How does he look? What are you going to wear at the wedding - sari or lehenga? What style wedding is it going to be? How many days of ceremonies?

Whoa! Slow down. Don't ask questions. I don't have answers. Yet.

After I got back from Pakistan and attempted to put my work life back in order, I told my colleagues about the news.

Colleague - Wow, congratulations! So when's the wedding?

Me - Oh it's a long way off.

Colleague - When is it???

Me - It's next year.

Colleague - Oh ok. Phew. Then you have time to plan. Next year when?

Me - January.

Colleague - January?? January 2007???

Me - Err.. yeah.

Colleague - And you call that a long way off????

Me - Err.. yeah.

Colleague - That's only like one month away! Don't you need like a year to plan??

Me - Ummm... not really.

It seems that if you pick the guy, the parents pick everything else. So I am pretty chilled out, while they're going nuts in India doing the planning.

Once in a while they call me to ask funny questions.

Mom - Should we buy the gold? Or do you want to buy your own?

Me - Gold? Do I really have to wear gold?

Now I am the kind of person who hates gold with a vengeance. I'd rather wear the fake earrings worth twelve rupees that I bought on the streets of Delhi two years ago than 35 kg of gold wedding jewellery, which incidentally is competing with the wedding sari to see which one's heavier.

But it seems a bride wearing fake jewellery worth twelve rupees is not really an option, as my Mom's glare pointed out. When you can feel a glare over the telephone, you know she's on the verge of getting really pissed off.

Me - Ok ok I will buy my own!

Mom - No no, don't buy! You don't know the first thing about gold! Just look around and report to me.

So one early morning I went to the Tanishq gold section at Mustafa to 'look around'. I'd say it was quite a productive trip.

That evening, my sister called me.

She - So Mom said you went to Mustafa.

Me - Yeah, I did.

She - Did you buy anything?

Me - Yeah, I did.

She - You did??? What did you buy???

Me - Err... ipod nano.

She - *heavy silence*

Me - Hello?

She - You bought an ipod nano when you went gold-shopping?

Me - Err.. yeah. I didn't like anything else I saw.

My sister burst into laughter. In the background, I think Aish was chuckling too.

She - I should have guessed you'd do something like that! I am trying to imagine you sitting at the mandap in your wedding sari wearing an ipod nano instead of gold jewellery. *bursts into laughter again*

Phew. Thank heavens some family members still have a sense of humour, while others only send menacing glares over the phone.

"So are you excited?" Everyone's asking me. The truth is - I'm not. Not yet. I guess I'm still trying to wrap up a lot of things - my job, my studies, my bank balance - and haven't had time to feel all...errr... bride-y. Perhaps I've too many other things to take care of first. Perhaps mentally I am still in Pakistan. The truth is - I haven't even been thinking about it. Friends are getting pissed off because they're hearing the news "too late".

However, everyone in my family has been making up for my not thinking about it. For quite some time as I recently found out.

Some time in November, I'd called up my sister after my first exam.

Me - Hey I finished the first exam. It went well. The next one's in a few days. Wish me luck.

Sister - So which side are you going to part your hair?

Me - Huh?? Part my hair? For the exam???

Sister - Not the exam. Offo! The wedding!

Me - The wedding? Sheesh, can we please focus on my exam first?

Sister - Hmmm... okay okay. But grow your hair ok? Don't cut it till the wedding.

Hmmm... the problem with my hair is that it is exactly like me - wild, has a mind of its own and refuses to grow up. The longer I grow it, the curlier it gets, so any increase in length is lost in the curls.

Me - Sigh. I will try.

And everyone's thinking of what to wear. Everyone except me.

The other day, my sister called again.

She - Hey, listen, I want you to buy something for Aish in Singapore.

Me - Yeah sure. What do you want?

She - I want some accessories. To match what she's gonna wear at the wedding and the reception.

Me - You want accessories for Aish?

She - Yeah.

Me – Accessories for Aish??

She – Haan baba!

Me - Apa, baby Aish is 6 months old!!!!!

She - Yeah. I know. That's why I can't find anything suitable here. Apparently, there's a kind of hairband, made of the same material that stockings are made of, the kind that won't hurt her scalp. And there's velcro clips for the hair. I can't find them in New Jersey. So you gotta look for them in Singapore. Light pink, pale yellow and white. Okay?

So here I am, clueless about my own accessories but faced with this rather strange task of buying baby hairbands and clips. If anyone knows of a place that sells velcro clips and nylon hairbands for a 6-month-old baby, please contact me immediately.

Now that my exams are over, I've started on my exercise regime again. Many people think that it's for the wedding. Sheesh. Gotta open the sarcasm bottle.

Friend - Shaping up for your wedding, huh?

Me - Yeah, gotta fit into my wedding dress, you see.

*Friend gives me a strange look*

Friend - Errrm... Sayesha, your wedding dress is a sari.

Me - Yeah, I know.

Friend - Errr... You don't ‘fit into a sari’. A sari wraps around you.

Me - Yeah. But in my head, it's already wrapped, you see. I just need to fill up the hollow within it.

Friend - ??

People are asking me for the cards. I don't have them yet. Apparently, the cards went to the printer last week, and they should reach me soon. No one asked for my approval on the design. This would never happen at work - none of my editors would dare to send something to the printer without getting my signature of approval on it. Hmmph!

Dad asked me not to worry as he would take care of the card. He doesn't know that that itself is the cause of my worry. There has never been any common factor in my parents' taste and mine. I just hope that unlike my blog posts, the card has no typos. (Occupational hazard, yes.)

Right now, I see the wedding as an event that kinda requires my attendance. An event where two thousand grinning people I have never met in my life will surround me and ask “Recognise me?” while I disguise my ignorance about the answer to their question with choreographed ‘bridal blushing’.

From what I have seen so far, a wedding is an event designed around the bride, and nothing but the bride. The guy is the optional feature in a wedding. No one really cares about his whereabouts after the customary "Dulha aa gaya, dulha aa gaya!" I mean - look at this post. It's 35 kilometres long and yet, there is no mention of the dulha in it. Poor guy.

So I'm supposed to gear up for the most important event of my life. I'm supposed to be excited, nervous and what not. But the truth is - no, I’m not nervous. I’m not excited. But it doesn't worry me.

Maybe it will all happen in time. After all, the transition from underworld bhai to blushing bride is not an easy one.

Or maybe it won't. Maybe I'm just not that kinda bride.

Now if you please excuse me, I’ve got to go now. It's time for me to add fertilizer to my scalp.

Q & A

She - Are you sure?
He - Yes, I am.
She - But you know me - I'm nuts. I'll drive you nuts too, you know!
He (smiles) - I know.

And that's why she said 'Yes'.

All excited!

Sometimes completely unrelated things can provoke thoughts.

I noticed a suprise visitor at the outdoor mandap of my cousin's wedding in India. I could not help my excitement and took a picture of the very surprised frog.



Later I showed it to one of my cousins and said, "Dekh, shaadi par mendhak aaya tha!!!" (Look, a frog came to the wedding!!!)

He paused, looked at the photograph, paused again, gave me the strangest look ever and said, "Tell me something, crazy sis of mine. Is there anything in the world that does NOT get you all excited?"

"Of course there is!" I exclaimed.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like... errr... ummmm..... let me think...."

It took me a month. But I think I have finally managed to think of the answer.

Programming languages!