A score to settle

When you have two sisters living in opposite ends of the world, and the parents live somewhere in between, there is always a tug of war as far as parental visits are concerned. Someone really knew what he was talking about when he wrote the "Tumhaare paas kya hai? Mere paas maa hai" dialogue.

This actually holds true for Dad too, but since he works, for now my sis and are fighting over Mom till Dad retires and no longer has the "I can't get long leave to visit you" excuse.

When my mom cut short her visit to Singapore for my master's graduation to go to my sister's place, I sulked for days. I sulked over the phone, I sulked over email, I sulked until what I was sulking for happened. Dad said, "How about Mom stays with you for two whole weeks on her way back to India, instead of just transiting?"

That was the ultimate sacrifice from my Dad. For a guy who has never even boiled an egg, Mom's absence is tough. My heart melted at his offer.

So I said. "Okay. Thank you!" :P

So Mom's here with me after a few months in the US, while Dad's discovering the cook (*cough cough*) in himself.

"So Dad's retiring next year... both of you will come stay with us for a few months every year?" I asked Mom as she unpacked her stuff.

"Few months?? Hmmm... we'll see..."

"What we'll see? You want to go back to the US, is it? You have become an Amreekan?" I scowled.

"US? Haha! No way!"

"Oh... You didn't like the US?"

"No, I liked it, it's quite nice. But it's too far away."

“I agree! You can come here in 4 hours straight. You need like 20 hours to get to the US. Plus jet lag… uff!” I played narad muni.

“Yeah, exactly.” She said.

I took out my hypothetical notepad (yes, I have a hypothetical newspaper, notepad, and what not.) and did what a mature 27-year-old does. Scribbled the score.

Sash - 1
Sis - 0

As Mom unpacked, I saw some dried flowers and maple leaves in a ziploc bag.

"What's this??" I asked.

"Oh, I collected this when we went to see fall in the US. Ohhh... fall is soooo beautiful! You must see it for yourself one day."

Hmmph.

Sash - 1
Sis - 1

"Achha? What else did you see?" I asked.

"Oh I saw snowfall too! It is AMAZING! I even made a snowman!" She said delightedly.

Sash - 1
Sis - 2

FALL and snowFALL and what not. Hmmph! Singapore has FALL too. That too all year round! It's called rainFALL! :/

"So did you roam around a lot on your own in the US?" I asked.

"On my own? No way! It's very hard to get around on your own if you don't drive."

“You didn’t walk around on your own?”

“No no… can’t do all that there.”

"You know Mom, you can walk to the beach here? It's like a 15-minute WALK." I said.

Sash - 2
Sis – 2

“Achha, we’ll go watch Taare Zameen Par in the weekend, okay? It’s supposed to be a really good movie.” I said.

“Oh, I’ve seen it already!”

“WHAT?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I’d held off watching it just so I could watch it when Mom comes here. I even called up the theatre to ask them how long the movie will run so we don't miss it. I’d thought she’d be so deprived of hindi movies.

“It’s a very good movie. You should watch it.” Mom said.

“Yeah yeah… I will… but tell me first, when did you watch it? How?? You went to a hindi movie theatre there?”

“Naah, your jeeju got the movie, we watched it at home.”

Okay, fine.

Sash – 2
Sis – 3

Realising that I was fighting a losing battle, I decided it was time to use the brahmastra. I made her sit on the massage chair (I’d ensured it was delivered before Mom got here), put on her favourite music (the chair has a system whereby the massage can be synced with the music you play) and said, "So do you like the chair?"

"I love it! What a brilliant invention!"

Muahahaha!

Sash - 3
Sis – 3

And so went on the score. It had reached the point that I was trying to score on every little thing Mom mentioned about her US trip. It was a very close game, you see, and I had to win. I had to make her pick me over my sis. I had to increase my reasons and reduce hers. Naturally I was nervous and touchy.

Yesterday, we were randomly chatting, and Mom said, "So the other day baby Aish..."

"OKAY FINE I GET IT! I GET IT! SIS WINS! OKAY?"

Mom - "Huh? What did I say?"

Me – “Baby Aish! That's what you said."

Sash - 3
Sis - 3 gazillion bazillion trazillion...

HMMPH! :/

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A helping hand

Every time I watch India playing a cricket match and struggling against good fielders, I wish I could extend my hand and put it through the TV screen, all the way till the fielder, lift him up using my thumb and forefinger so that he dangles from my little nail hundreds of feet above the ball that is now going for a beautiful FOUR. I then gently put him down and retract my match-winning device or helpful hand, through the TV screen back to my living room, in preparation for the next one. Now that is what I call getting really involved in a match. A couple of days ago, I discovered that matches are not the only things I get involved in.

Recently, I got myself all three hindi channels - Sony, Zee and Star Plus. The main reason was that my Chinese friend Starbreez whom I'd inducted into the ‘Bollywood zindabad baaki sab murdabad’ club, had started supplying me with the latest Bollywood trivia and I was freaking out. I had to get back in the groove, I had to expose myself to the latest songs and trailers and then tell her things she did not know but I did. Hah!

So I told myself that I'd treat myself to the hindi movie channels after wrapping up my latest book (for the uninitiated, I corrupt young minds by writing books for them) as the work on the book barely gave me any TV time. Last week, the publisher called to tell me the book had hit the stores (pray for me, will you, that it doesn't end up in the 'half off' bin?) and I promptly subscribed to the hindi channels. Besides, Mom's dropping by Singapore on her way back to India from the US and since I can't get leave for the entire two weeks, hindi channels would serve as the best entertainment for her. (Of course, no amount of hindi channels can be as entertaining as baby Aish singing "Haina bolo bolo" in that baby voice of hers, but sorry Mom, I've gotta work with the resources I actually have.)

Anyway, so I have been watching quite a bit of the three channels I got in order to decide on which of the three I'm going to keep after Mom goes back. Keeping all three would be a waste – I don’t watch so much TV. My only criterion is that I will keep the one with the least number of saas bahu serials. Maximum Bollywood. Minimum bawling. So I've been noting down all details of saas-bahu serials that crop up during my channel surfing. And that's where I came across the trailers of this new (?) serial called "Baabul ka aangan chhoote na". Oh, the audacity to call it that! Wait till you hear the plot.

This bahu-looking err... bahu is asking the audience, "Pati ke liye karwa chauth ka vrat ya apne beemar pita ko aspatal pahunchana? Aap meri jagah hote toh kya karte?"

After thunking my head on the wall several times, I decide it’s time to lend a helping hand.

The bahu is rambling on about other events that are putting her in a spot when suddenly, the shoot is interrupted by the hand of Sayesha, which has somehow entered the grand haveli where the bahu is whining. The ghar ka wafaadaar naukar yells out in excitement, "Phata poster, nikli Sayesha!" Sayesha’s hand picks up the newspaper from the coffee table, rolls it and thwacks the bahu's head repeatedly. A voice booms in the living room, "DUH! Your dad is so ill he has to be rushed to hospital. Your husband is just standing there eating laddus while you starve the whole day for his long life. Do I really need to tell you main teri jagah hoti toh kya karti?"

*resounding slap*

The bahu is now lying on the carpet, holding a hand to her cheek. The camera focuses on her face, zooming in and out repeatedly until the audience gets a headache. The camera than pans to show the expressions on the faces of each of the people present there including the family dog. Some weirdass music plays in the background. The bahu looks stunned. Her husband in his bhola-bhala kurta pyjama looks stunned. Her father-in-law with his fake white hair looks stunned. Her mother-in-law with her purple lipstick looks stunned. Her sister-in-law with her super-short wig looks... you get the drift. Wafaadaar naukar (who is actually the bahu's real dad) looks at bahu’s expressionless face and says, “Lagta hai yaad-daasht chali gayi hai.”

The giant hand punches wafaadaar naukar in the nose and tries to make its way out of the giant haveli. Before it can get back into my living room, a girl in a kurti and long skirt runs towards it, grabs it and shakes it and says, "Oh my god. What a plot... I'm bowled over."

“Kaun hai be?” the voice booms again as the hand struggles to free itself.

"Hi, I'm Ekta... meri nayi serial mein kaam karogi? Serial ka naam hai “Kkkiiska haath?"

Giant hand picks up the rolled-up newspaper again.


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What a charade!

It was the year 2001. The university inter-hostel cultural competitions were on. The event was Dumb Charades (DC). The 'ultimate DC team' comprising of ‘the gods of DC’ which included Viv, was facing the 'not so ultimate DC team', which included me. The eyes of the audience were filled with pity for the hapless 'not so ultimate DC team' that was about to be massacred by the ultimate DC team.

Just before the 'IT round' (Don't go "Sheesh!" on me. What kinda rounds do you expect when a bunch of engineers play DC?), I got my team together and purely on a hunch said, "Guys, if we get a word like ‘pseudocode’, I'll just point to my face and then shake my hand."

I went to the stage and picked my word. Holy cow. If I had a penny for each freaky thing that happens to me… Yes. Yes it was pseudocode. We won. Time recorded - 3 seconds. Everyone in the audience was dumb-founded. They were all wondering how the heck I mimed pseudocode and how the heck my team guessed it in 3 seconds flat. It would have been 2 seconds actually *looks coyly at nails* if I hadn't wasted 1 second just staring at the word cos I could not believe it actually was pseudocode.

It has been 7 years and I still do the victory dance every time I relate the story of how we beat the crap out of the supposed DC gods. Viv of course shrugs his shoulders and says it was a fluke because we'd decided on a code for pseudocode just before. Sheesh. We could have picked any word at all - why pseudocode? I say flukes happen to deserving people. And deserving people get repeat performances. Even if it’s 7 years later.

So yesterday, we had a small chaat & mango margarita party at home - Shub, Pizzadude, Viv and me. Years of being crushed by the Christmas and New Year crowds out there has taught us a big lesson of life – stay at home.

















Check out the spread!

As we settled down to play DC with hindi movies after lunch, I wasn't very sure how well we'd do. Truth is - I've never played DC with hindi movies before. Strange that I prefer DC’ing to english movies over hindi ones, since I watch like ONE english movie in a year. Anyway, we decided to give it a go. We opened Raaga.com and went to the movie index page. Each team then picked a movie for the mimer of the other team.

As you all know by now, Viv, is a timeless man. Be it pictionary or DC, he thinks he can play without worrying about how much time it takes. How the heck does he play one-day cricket, I wonder. Nevertheless, the beauty of his thought process and incomparable creativity are very entertaining when he plays pictionary or DC because the long-windedness just never ends, and neither does the laughter. A couple of months ago, when we were playing against Aarti and her hubby, Viv started miming the whole Ramayana - he mimed Ravan and Sita and Lakshman and Lakshman Rekha and what not, and it turns out all he wanted to show was "deer". :/

His "best work" yesterday is yet another testimony to his talent. I gave him a one-word movie to mime. First, he gave me a dirty look and said, “I don’t know the meaning of this word.” So I told him. He thought for a minute that then started miming. He showed the following things: kids, glasses, motorcycle, baby, magic wand, big guy, motorcycle, baby, motorcycle, motorcycle. I was just sitting there laughing helplessly because only I knew what the heck he was trying to do, while his team looked on in bewilderment. He was trying to show Hagrid from Harry Potter. Why Hagrid since it was a hindi movie DC? Because... from Hagrid he planned to somehow get to the movie he was actually supposed to be miming. Can you guess what the movie was?

Shagird. :/

Anyway, Shub and I whacked the guys' asses, rather royally I must say, and we set some records similar to the ones set in 2001. It's amazing what a great team we made, specifically when she was miming and I was guessing, considering we've never played anything in the same team before!

Here are some snippets.

Act I

Viv and Pizzadude pick what they think is a very difficult movie. Shub starts miming.
Shub shows three fingers.
Me - Three words!
She joins her hand in prayer and lifts them up.
Me - It's a God?
She nods and shows a bow and arrow.
Me - Errrm… Kaamdev?
Everyone explodes into laughter. Darn, four seconds lost.
She shakes her head.
Me - Ram? Shri Ram?
She nods her head vigorously and shows a person standing next to her.
Me – Oh! Lakshman? Rampur ka Lakshman!
She does a victory dance and we do a high-five.
Pizzadude and Viv look at each other in utter shock.
Viv - What movie is that?? How do you even know it?
Me - The one with Randhir Kapoor?
Viv - Hainn??
Me - The one with that song "Gum hai kisi ke pyaar mein..."
Viv continues to shake his head in disbelief.

Act II

Shub shows two fingers.
Me - Two words.
She gestures that it's a movie from long ago.
Me - Very old movie?
She gestures someone singing classical music.
Me - Tansen? Oh wait, two words… Baiju Baawra??
She high-fives me.
Viv - WHAT? Who is Baiju Baawra????
Me – He was a singer. You didn't read the story of Tansen and Baiju Baawra in school?
The guys have the usual expression.

Act III

Shub shows two fingers.
Me - Two words.
She shows a goddess.
Me - It's a goddess.
She shows books.
Me - Books?
She tries to show a musical instrument but she doesn't know how to hold it. It kinda looks like a guitar.
Me (thought bubble) - A guitar playing goddess? Shakira?
Shub (to the guys) - How do they hold it?
Viv shows her how a veena is held (his sis plays the instrument).
Me - Veena! Goddess! Veena! Saraswati Chandra!
Shub - Yes!
Viv - What movie IS that? How do you know that?
Me - I think I have a song from that movie...
The guys repeat previous expression.

Act IV

Shub shows one finger.
Me - One word.
She holds the edges of her top and shows it off.
Me - Libaas!
She high-fives me.
The guys' jaws are on the floor.
Viv - That's libaas??
Shub and I - Yeah! Libaas means dress. Clothes.
Viv - I didn't even know what the word meant!
Pizzadude - Me neither!
Viv - Yeah! I thought it's some high fundoo urdu word meaning good behaviour or something. Like parents ka libaas karna chahiye!
Me - You mean lihaaz karna chahiye? Hahaha!
The guys – Libaas means dress?
Me - Yeah! Half the tailors in India name their shops Libaas yaar! How could you not know?
The guys shake their heads.

Act V

This is my favourite one, the one that shocked the heck outta the guys.

Shub shows one finger.
Me - One word?
She nods.
Me - Erm... Ijaazat? Abhiman?
She nods like mad.
Me - Ijaazat?
Shub – YEAH!
We high-five again.
The guys - WHAT??? She didn't even mime anything!
The gals - Muahahahaha!

Loved the dumb start to the year!
Happy New Year, bewdas! :D

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Du-bye!

Hello bewdas,

Bhai has bid goodbye to the really cool desert with the tallest tower in the world.

Stories and pics will be up on Hopscotch soon, hopefully by the end of the coming weekend.

Merry belated Christmas, everyone! :D

Du-b(h)ai - the mother ship beckons

I am very very busy at work these days. End-of-year assessment period is never easy. I have to do appraisals, look at mergers and acquisitions, organise the annual symposium, sort out performance bonuses to give out, assess my global network and come up with creative ways to increase it, and what not. Uffff! After all, being a Bhai is not an easy job.

Waise tension nahin lene ka - apun ka global employee network toh akha duniya mein chaadar ki tarah phailela hai. India mein Satish mast kaam kar rela hai - akha country akela sambhaalta hai chhokra. Bahut tarakki karega. US mein baby Aish toh bachpan se hi apun ka naam roshan kar reli hai. (Uska size aur US ka size compare karo toh ricard is impressive - big fat bonus to her. Gives new meaning to the term 'baby bonus' eh?) UK mein bhi apun ne teen char gunda-type cousins bichha diya hai (family ka khayaal toh rakhna padta hai na). Apun ko bachpan mein bahut maarta tha yeh log, abhi laga diya doosron ko maarne mein - better utilisation of energy and resources.

December is also the time for 'SAsh Bhai's Annual Symposium for Bhaigiri, Englis-spikking, Wasooli, Dadagiri and Assorted Skills' - also known as 'SABAS, BEWDAS'. Every year, the symposium is held in different parts of the world at undisclosed locations to give sabasi to bewdas who, with their exemplary work have been an inspiration to many a new chhokra in the business. The symposium also serves to facilitate knowledge- and skill-sharing between international bewdas. The location of the symposium is so secretive that sometimes even Bhai ka khud ka chhokra log don't make it there because they can't locate the errr.. location. In the symposium, strategies are discussed, money is handed over to the Bhai, and bonuses given out (to those who manage to find the location of the symposium and get their asses there - it's a test I have designed for them).

Location kabhi repeat nahin karne ka - pulis ka khatra hai. Ekich motto hai Bhai ka - akha duniya cover karne ka. US, UK, New Zealand, India, Singapore, Malaysia, The Philippines, Hong Kong, Cambodia, Pakistan - Bhai's done 'em all.

And now it's time to... Du-bai.

Ah, the mother ship beckons.

Is baar bar meich khullam khulla location bol dala - apun ka ilaka hai na. Toh ja rela hai apun - bar par nazar aur bheje par control rakhne ka, rada nahin mangta apun ko, samjha?

See you at the symposium, bewdas! Those who make it, I mean. I'll see the rest of you when I get back to Singapore.

Bole toh - dekh lega apun tum sab ko. :D

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Spreading the Christmas chair

It was one of those office Christmas parties where all I wanted to do was wear my new boots with my glittery dress. Though the Christmas committee had been publicising the lucky draw prizes for weeks now and there was a general buzz about them, I wasn't too bothered. I have been generally lucky with lucky draw stuff since I was a kid, so I thought I should win something at least.

The committee had also been publicising the theme of the party for weeks, which for some weird reason was 'glitter'. I thought it was an extremely discriminatory theme. Firstly, how the heck are guys supposed to glitter up? Secondly, who the heck wants to look at glittered-up guys? One of my colleagues in a desperate attempt to find some ideas on how guys can glitter up, googled for a phrase involving "guys" and "glitter", and let's just say the results were such that I can't disclose them here - after all, this is a family bar.

Anyway, as we settled down in the Esplanade Room in the Carlton hotel amidst the glitterati (quite literally), there were speeches and wine and food at the party, but no one was really interested. Everyone was just waiting for the lucky draw. They started announcing the lucky draw prizes with the lowest value first, and threw in a game once in a while. I was totally rooting for our table to win the 'Identify the carol and sing it' game, because it seemed to be intellectually the most stimulating one. They were showing the clues on the screen and the table that could crack the most codes and sing the most carols would win. However, I completely forgot that though I am good at cracking clues, I am hopeless at carol lyrics. Bollywood lyrics I know, but carol lyrics? Ahem. So the high point for me was when I cracked the most difficult clue, and my colleague seated next to me actually knew the lyrics. (The clue was 'ABCDEFGHIJKMNOPQRST' and the answer was Noelle. No 'ell', geddit??).

Then they started calling out the top ten lucky draw prizes. I knew that my name had been evading the hand of the 'picker' because I was meant for greater things that 200-dollar vouchers. But by the time they got to the top three prizes and hadn't called my name, I started to worry a bit. They called out the top three prizes by extension number. So when it was time for the first prize, and they called out "Extension number 8...2...5..." I turned to my colleague and said, "Dammit."

"What's yours?" She asked.

"Umm... 8242." I answered.

Before disclosing the last digit, they asked all the people whose extension numbers started with 825 to stand up so that there would be some suspense in the room, and also each candidate could look at the competitors. The rest of all just looked at all the standing parties and said "Damn you, people."

And then they called out the last digit.

"It's 2!!"

Suddenly everyone looked confused. None of the people standing were doing the victory dance. The announcer then went on to announce the name.

"And tonight's grand prize winner is... SAYESHA!"

HUH?

I looked around. Everyone was either giving me confused or dirty or murderous looks.

"My extension is 8252?" I wondered.

"Sayesha, could you come up here and collect your grand prize?"

Still in a state of daze, I said, "Uhhh... okay!" Obviously at that point in time, it was pointless to do the Miss World "Oooh I won I won" hands on the cheeks and round eyes expression.

(I really got a big round of scolding from everyone later. You win the grand prize and all we get is a "Uhhh... okay!"??)

So I went to the stage, collected my grand prize, and sensing that people were still wondering why I hadn't stood up when they announced the first three digits, decided to come clean.

I took the microphone and addressed the room.

"I'm sorry. I never call myself. That's why I didn't know my extension number."

At least some of the hurts looks changed to forgiving ones, while others still couldn't believe I had just won a OTO Master Relax music-sync massage chair worth $1880. Well, I couldn't either. But I had I had! Yeay! People play musical chairs at parties, I had won myself a musical chair!

The reactions of the people were quite varied and interesting.

"Sayesha, e-bay it! You can get at least two thousand dollars for it!"

"Sayesha, no don't sell it! Keep it! It's a great prize!"

"Ship it to your parents in India!" (Not a bad idea, just that the shipping charges may marginally exceed the cost of the chair which I never paid for.)

"Sayesha, bring it to office and substitute your regular chair with it!"

"Sayesha, my office has a lot of extra space... ahem." That was my boss. So I told her, "This is unbelievable! Everyone is eyeing your chair, and you are eyeing my chair??"

But the best one came from my friend BH who suggested that I take it to the office and keep it in the pantry, install a coin system, and let people use it when they want. At the end of every week, I collect my earnings. Sounds fab to me.

Now that's what I call 'spreading the Christmas chair"! ;)


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A boot-ylicious story

So Clueless came home for the weekend before flying off to India. Two of her friends came along with her, and one of them Soleil (an adorable Malaysian Chinese girl who refers to our place as “my Indian home”) stayed for the whole weekend. Viv and I slept early on Saturday night as we had badminton the next morning, but the two girls chattered on till very late. They were still asleep when we left for the game on Sunday morning.

On our way back from badminton, I asked Viv, "Do you think the girls would have woken up when we get home?" Viv said, "Soleil maybe, but not Clueless." Like most adoring older brothers, he trusts his sister's friends more than his sister.

"I bet Clueless is up too." I said.

"Naah... I don’t think so. I'm sure she's still sleeping." He said.

"Wanna bet? Okay, it's a bet. If she's up, you will give me 79 dollars. Okay?"

Viv didn't even raise an eyebrow at that statement.

He knows by now that if I want to buy something rather badly, I use such weird bets. They are just tactics to get out of the guilt. The guilt that arises out of being a girl and hence spending money on so many random things, while as a guy, he doesn’t have much to buy. So I have this weirdass bets with him which I win and then hop away to buy whatever I was eyeing, while he looks on amused. We don’t even have a my-money-your-money system. It was not like he was gonna open his wallet and give me 79 dollars to spend, I use my credit card for everything I buy. So to an outsider, this may not make sense at all. After all, when you’re a working gal, you can buy anything you want with the money you earn, and no one can question it. But sometimes, you just need that assurance that you’re not just blowing your money off on silly things (especially when it's an amount like $79, you feel better if you have 'the license to spend it'), you’re merely “spending money you won on a bet”. Tee hee!

So we went home, and both girls had woken up. Yipeee! I had just won myself 79 dollars. Viv was shaking his head at me and smiling. He knew that half the time, I don’t even buy anything after the stupid bets. But I get a real kick out of ‘winning the money’.

But this time, I was so gonna spend it. 'Cos it was time to reboot!

I may not be the greatest authority on computers, but I do know that when your computer crashes and nothing works, you gotta reboot. Rebooting - a concept that is just as relevant to life as it is to a CPU. When life seems like it's coming crashing down and nothing works, I 're-boot', i.e. I buy yet another pair of new shoes, and life's good again.

And I knew exactly what to do with the 79 dollars I had just won. They had been speaking to me, you see. The black boots on display at BHG, which would go fabulously with the muted purple dress with black sequins I had saved for my office Christmas party. (By the way, the dress was sponsored by one of my price-of-friendship thingies, I still have to recover the money though. Girl, if you're reading this, we have some accounts to settle, muahaha!).

So where were we? Yes, so the boots, they spoke. They put forth their case – like two lawyers in black coats. “People are so cynical these days. There are very few things they actually like. So if you're lucky enough to find something you really like, shouldn’t you grab it? Don't look at the price tag, woman, look at us!” Tell me - how can you counter such a beautiful argument? I bought the argument and the boots.

On the way back home, I decided to pick up some groceries and make my special pasta for dinner before Clueless flew off. The special pasta actually has very little pasta (carbs and all) and truckloads of vegetables. So I bought pasta sauce, broccoli, capsicum, cans of mushroom and babycorn, and also picked up two cartons of milk and a big loaf of bread for the next morning’s breakfast. Heavy stuff. By the time, I was done, it was raining as if it had never rained on earth before.

As I opened my umbrella, I noticed a man standing outside the supermarket. He smiled at me politely but what he meant was “Are you out of your mind, lady?”. So I smiled back at him politely, but what I really meant was "Wuss!" He was holding one of those large Laloo Prasad family-size umbrellas, and yet looking up at the sky and hesitating to step out. My blue umbrella is so tiny it can fit in my purse. And yet, the supermarket superwoman figured that her place was a just a short walk from here, she could just walk it.

Though I was carrying about six bags, I knew I just needed to protect the new boots from the rain. So held the paper bag with the shoebox close to my body, balanced the rest of the bags on various parts of my arms, and trodded on.

I was about 100 steps from home, when I heard it.

THUD!

THUD! THUD!

Oh my goodness, did someone get hit by a recklessly driven car? Shocked, I turned around. There was nothing.

And that’s when it struck me. Holy cow, the base of the paper bag with the boots had dissolved and collapsed, and the shoe box had fallen through the gaping hole! The other two THUD sounds were the milk cartons that had also decided to join the boots and play kaagaz ki kashti. Sheesh.

Next was the bag with the broccoli, followed by the capsicum. Holy cow.

It was at that point in time when I realised I did not have enough hands. I had bags on every part of my arms, and the umbrella between my chin and right shoulder. Not to mention that I was drenched to the marrow. How was I to pick up the shoes and how was I to carry them? So I thought – to hell with dignity and squatted down on the roadside in a manner that is only used in Indian toilets. To add to my embarrassment, a car actually stopped and the guy inside was almost going to get out and “take the poor woman who had collapsed by the roadside to the nearest hospital” but supermarket superwoman gestured him to get on with his life. I can only imagine his shock if the pasta sauce bottle had also fallen and broken, with the red sauce seemingly streaming from my body, mixing with the rainwater. That might have been fun.

Anyway, by some magical force, I found a hand to pick up the shoebox and clutched it to my chest like a baby, picked up the rest of my dignity along with the groceries and headed home. Finally, I made it, soaking wet.

The 20-odd pairs of shoes in the shoerack at my doorstep seemed to be mocking me. I'm used to it by now. I love all of them equally, but every time I reboot, I get a little resistance from them. I reckon this time they were also jealous because I had never clutched any of them the way I was clutching the new ones. I could sense the buggers rolling their eyes because I had decided to put the new shoes under my bed instead of out there in the open with them, braving the sun and the wind and the rain.

“Bite me!” I said and ignored their jealous looks.

(Holy cow, I just hope they don’t take my words literally.)

Home had never felt cosier as I got out of the soaking clothes and changed into warm, dry ones. As I checked the boots (they were surprisingly dry) before keeping them under the bed, I suddenly forgot all about the miserable situation I had been in a few minutes ago. I was happy again.

I had rebooted, you see.

***

Viv still has no idea about the boots. And I just realised that this post is a great way to find out whether he really reads my blog like he claims he does. Viv, if I do not get a reaction from you on this in the next 48 hours, you will err… owe me $49.90. Thank you.

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Lost Christmas

Christmas is in the air!

'Tis the season to be jolly!

In the true spirit of giving, I wanna give too. Give some gaalis to the people who make the playlists for the malls. Now I'm not anti Christmas carols, but I'm not a big fan either. The only one I have liked so far is my friend's remix rendition of Rudolph. It goes something like "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny Ahuja!" Any doubts as to why it's my favourite Christmas carol ever? :D

Of course there was another one I recently encountered. Now that the cricket season is over, Viv still finds himself waking up early and having nothing to do, composes Christmas carols. Just yesterday, I found myself waking up to him crooning about how he was making a snack for Santa. Huh? He not only sang the entire carol to me as an anti-lullaby three times, he even made me sing it when my eyes opened. Sheesh. I'd like to share the torture with all bewdas here. May this 'carol' get stuck in your head. Amen.

(Viv to Santa)
Riding through the snow
On a one-horse open sleigh
Where are you gonna go?
(Santa to Viv)
Far far away!

(Viv to Santa)
When will you come back?
I've made a tasty snack
(Santa to Viv)
I'll come back very soon
I'm just going to the moon.

I'm not surprised Santa ran off to the moon to get away from Viv's snack, and worse, his song. It made me quite loony too. But not as loony as the Christmas carols played in the malls make me.

Carols in the malls are fine, sometimes they do bring more cheer than some of the top ten songs with the awful lyrics that we otherwise have to listen to all year. But I feel the veins in my temple popping out when they start playing 'Last Christmas I gave you my heart'. I just don't get it. Why do they play that song every single year? Hell, it's not a Christmas song! It's just a heartbreak song sung by a road romeo, the kind who stands in the streets and rings his bicycle bell when you walk past, and sings the nicest of romantic songs in the most awful manner? Of all the things I don't miss about living in India, this tops the list. But looks like the road romeos are expanding and are quite an international organisation now. Check out the lyrics:

"Last Christmas I gave you my heart
But the very next day, you gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I'll give it to someone special"

So every year this guy just picks someone to give his heart to, sheds some tears and then picks his next 'victim' the following year? Lucha lafunga road romeo is all I have to say! Just because the song has the word "Christmas" in it, it has become a carol now. Sheesh.

(This reminds me of Sting saying in an interview that he often wonders why people play his "Every breath you take" during their weddings. "It's not a love song," he said, "It's a stalker song.")

The jolly spirit of Christmas is lost if depressing songs like this keep playing everywhere, every year. As far as I am concerned, Christmas is all about Christmas sales, about buying fabulous things at great prices, but the song is ruining it all. The other day, I was looking at a pair of fabulous Christmas sale boots going at $79. I was wondering what expensive gift I could get Viv so I wouldn't feel bad if he got me the boots, when Last Christmas started playing. I was out of there in a flash.

Kailash Kher once said of the success behind Himesh Reshammiya's songs, "His songs always have words repeated several times (think "junoon junoon junoon junoon, aashiq banaya aashiq banaya aashiq banaya, naam tera tera naam tera tera"). If you listen to them enough number of times, they will embed themselves in your head and you start liking them."

Going by that theory, maybe a few Christmases down the line, I'll actually start enjoying the song.

Oh boy, just the thought of that is depressing me more.

The ultimate couple(t)

Most couples make me sick with their couply ways, especially when they act all coochie-coo romantic and what not. But thankfully, there are some couples that just give you a very good feeling each time you see them together. I think Javed Akhtar and Shabana Azmi are one such couple and I was lucky to catch them on an episode of 'Koffee with Karan' (one more time - Youtube ki jai ho!). Whether it was him teasing her about all her activist stuff, or her teasing him about his bad memory with appointments, it was a pleasure to watch them interact. I have written about them in the past, but here's another post dedicated to not just the most talented couple in Bollywood, but one of the most ideal as well. It's amazing how both being incredibly serious people, are also incredibly funny people at the same time.

Javed really stole the show when Karan asked him to recite a couplet for Shabana and he said:

Khush-shakal bhi hai woh
Yeh alag baat hai magar
Humko zaheen log hamesha aziz they.

("She is beautiful but that is besides the point...
The fact is that I have always loved intelligent people.")

Man, I was totally bowled over. Now this is the kind of couplet a girl would like to hear. Heh heh!

Darn, if only Viv wasn't so Urdu-challenged! :P


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The Loopy Room

So a friend of ours from ye olde university days was in Singapore and decided to catch up with us on a few years' worth of data.

Of all places in the world, he chose The Rupee Room. Now it may sound like a place where beggars would gather to count the earnings of the day, but Singapore has no beggars - so it's just a place that plays Bollywood music and serves drinks. A place where apparently the ladies gotta be 20 and the men 22. (Why oh why the funny numbers?)

Now I haven't been to an Indian club since I was in the second-year. In those days, we'd go to Mohammad Sultan road for the annual Bhangra night, which was actually the alternative of shaadi.com for many a bachelor looking to net a hot punjabi kudi. After a while, I started getting sick of it - not to mention how much I hate remixes, especially the kind where you can barely hear the words above the dhik-chik anymore.

So I thought - okay let's check out what The Rupee Room is like. I wasn't particularly pleased with the venue. But then I guess I wasn't in the mood for it that Friday night. It had been a crazy week at work (every time a new editor is hired for my team, weird-hour teleconferences are held with the Boston office) and I was sleepy and tired and in no mood to drink or dance. So we entered The Rupee Room around 11-ish and looked around. The curtained sections had empty seats with the 'Reserved' tag on them. We were told later that no one really reserves the seats, it's probably just a ploy by the management to make the place seem 'happening'. So basically everyone is standing and but the seats are empty. We grabbed one of the small tables with the tall stools and instantly snooty waiter popped over.

"I'm sorry, how many of you?" He asked.

"Right now three, but we have more coming." I said.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You can't occupy the table unless there are four of you."

WHAT THE...?!

I can't bat my eyelashes coyly and get myself a seat in a situation like this, but I can errr... bat... that's it. If only Viv had carried his cricket kit like he does to everywhere else we go, snooty waiter would have gone flying out the window, I'd have raised my bat and the very high people around me would have raised their bottles and glasses and paused to yell "Chhakka!"

(I'm forgiving of waiters and waitresses but I do have high expectations of them too - after all, I'm one myself.)

"So where do I sit?" I glared at the waiter.

"You could hang out at the bar..."

I looked at the bar. There were many many many people 'hanging out' at the bar, possibly waiting for the fourth person to turn up and complete their lives, including a bachelorette party of three which was soon joined by *surprise surprise* the groom himself. Sheesh. Either the guy was really insecure or the girls called him at the last minute to use him as a 'filler' and get a table of four.

Anyway, our filler guys soon arrived and we deposited ourselves back at the same table we had been outed from.

Reminiscing in a crowded and loud place like that is nothing but a nightmare. After the hugs and the "Man, it's been years!", when we decided to try our hand at conversation, this is what resulted.

"Hey, do you remember the time when..."

"WHAT?"

"I said - remember the..."

"SORRY, WHAT?"

"REMEMBER..."

"HUH?"

"ERM... FORGET IT!"

After a while when you realise that your ears are getting an earful of saliva every time someone leans over to yell something to you, and covering your ear with your hair doesn't help (you don't want that kinda 'conditioner', do you?), you just shut up and learn that this is not the best place to sit down and talk with an old friend about the 'good old' days.

So our reminiscing session consisted of sporadic dancing, generally shaking, looking at the people on the dance floor (which had suddenly been occupied by the entire Indian population of Singapore), and looking at the TV screens which were playing songs from the 90s on mute. It was actually quite hilarious to see a video of Manisha Koirala doing her signature "O yara dil lagana" move and the audio going "Kaindi ponnn ponnn ponnn!" Though I must admit that the remixes were well done with audible lyrics, and were extremely danceable to.

My executive summary of the Rupee Room - very good music, but limited playlist, snooty waiters and ho-hum drinks.

Go only if all you want to do is dance, cos there literally is no room for conversation.

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