I So Want Life To Work For Me…Complete Relativity

I don’t want those dark and lonely corners curling up in the living room when I am home from work…that occasional lizard gleefully licking up monsoon bugs…I don’t want them there.
I want the old fat lady in a tambola-print saree to come and clean up the darkness, and the loneliness, and the helplessness everyday…with efficient fingers…cleaning every detail…with the strong detergent.
I want the cook to prepare a fine Bengali meal…complete with dal, some big green lemons for the racial flavor, plain rice, and spicy river fish.
I want to write this book…I don’t quite know on what…maybe on how to kill hypochondria…and how to dream right.
I want the yellow lights in the room to work…neon lights make me sick.
I want to stop making transactions and concentrate on relationships…
I want superannuation!
I so want life to work for me!
Wonder what that man across that dusty half-brick pavement would say!
Something like ‘I am tired of thinking about food everyday…where should I get my food from? The posh idly place? Where they throw the left-over stuff after ten in the morning?
Or should I wait outside the gate of that house that has that bright red car with shiny silver wheels? I so want life to work for me!’

How I Love Getting Scared!

Scribbler inspires all over again. So here I am, writing about similar things…my obsession with the supernatural, this time. Of course, Scribbler says she’s scared to watch any horror flick. For me, the equation is a tad different. I love watching horror flicks. And I love getting goose pimples all the way from the stem of my receding hairline till the tip of my bruised and broken toe nails (Bruised and broken because today, someone at work ran a whole god dammed chair across my feet…however incredible that sounds…talk about corporate back-biting and competition…this is physical assault folks!).
Anyway, horror for me is a stress-buster, an anti-depressant, and an aphrodisiac. When I watch horror movies, I prefer being alone. I will do a lot of inane things like shut the doors and windows, use a chair from the dining table as a defense wall between me in the room and the ghost in the television set etc. (Lest the ghost a la The Ring just pops out of the screen). Needless to say, my husband gets uber exasperated when I begin such unadulterated dementia…but that’s the thrill of it…don’t you think?
Going to the loo, I agree, is a huge challenge after The Grudge kind of movies, where the spirit kills indiscriminately. Every single person dies…I wonder what the spirit does after that…die of sheer boredom and lack of better sense? You need at least one living soul to scare the hell out of…what say?
Come to think of it, going to the loo in the dark is a mind-blowing challenge any day, irrespective of whether you’ve watched The Grudge or not. Even if going to the loo can be somehow managed without severe damage to self-esteem, coming back to the room is a horrendous nightmare. I get this absolutely ridiculous idea time and again that the bored spirit is going to whack me, suddenly block my way, or on a more aggressive note, pull out whatever is left of my hair (at the end of a tough corporate week).
Something as mindless as Vaastu Shastra made me do something more mindless than the movie itself. We had gone to the forests of Karnataka yet again. The bungalow was eerie, to put it mildly. I suddenly recalled the horror in Vaastu Shastra and suggested that all of us should move together, and sleep in one room at night. There was a newly married couple who had traveled with us then, with bags of Kamasutras and dreams of achieving sexual sublimity. They haven’t forgiven us till date, I ‘m sure.
I remember another incident back at the in-laws…when I was supposed to be this low-key, soft-spoken, newly-wed, coy bride. The house is huge, replete with Belgian architecture; sprawling verandahs where you can spot a frail shadow in a white saree even during breakfast. The loo is at one end of the verandah (I’m genuinely sorry how most of these stories have something to do with the bladder). Too embarrassed to admit that I was scared, I went to the loo alone one night. My husband, being largely insensitive for most parts of my two and a half year old married life, didn’t realize that I might want him to wait on me outside the door. My father-in-law however guessed that I might need help. The sad part of the story is that I didn’t know he would be waiting. The moment I saw a dark form outside the door, I let out an earth-shattering scream with flaring nostrils and tightened knuckles, letting go of the mild coyness that I had promised to exhibit. The next action, I still don’t believe I did it, and it happened in a jiffy…I picked up a broom from somewhere and rushed at the figure. By then the larger family of aunts and uncles and cousins and cousins’ children had gathered around the place, and someone switched the lights on. I don’t think I have it in me to describe the pained embarrassment of the moment. My father-in-law, poor man, was flabbergasted, having been threatened with a broom by a should-be-shy bride. Everything of course, dissolved in mad laughter, and the story became quite a legend.
There are many more such thrills and horror movie-influenced moments in my life. I’m afraid if I don’t stop, a lot of you would know many more embarrassing details of my life, which I’d rather not divulge otherwise. So, for sanity’s sake… adiós!

Vocab Invaded by the Techno-modern Symptom?

I visited a school the other day…over some absolutely aimless project that I am into. But since this visit would keep the innumerable cheques from bouncing at the beginning of any given month, I trudged along reluctantly.
Unfortunately or otherwise, I overheard bits of alien conversation between the kids, once I was there. They had weird hand-gestures, tongue movements, and the Lord Almighty knows what else. (I’m sure I sound like a sickeningly pious and parochial old hag) To top it all, they looked at me as if I was the only thing the dinosaurs left behind. How encouraging!!! Do I want to go back to school? Definitely not.

Based on the behavior of school kids these days, I have conjured up an imaginary scenario that could well play out sometime soon. Here goes:

A normal conversation over Zingbomb (The new Dragon Well Chinese Tea-based aerated drinks launched by PepsiCo…available at all school cafeterias for 100 bucks…300 ml):

Kid 1: 'Aw, fuzjit! She’s such a butter face!'
Kid 2: 'The new girl? Yeah she is ugly!'

Note: Don’t know the meaning of "fuzjit"…just picked it up from one of those random conversations that I overheard. However, after extensive research, I found out, "butter face" just means "but her face". Meaning, her body is sexy enough…but her face! Also, sixth-standard kids are mature enough to start analyzing women. Revelation! All I could do when I was 12 was read Nancy Drew, treating it as adult literature.

Kid 1: 'Anyways. Don’t have much time for women. Dad’s gonna put my a** on fire if I don’t perform this semester. Last time was an epic fail man!'

Kid 2: (Guffaws)

Note: "Epic fail" signifies a mistake of such gargantuan proportions that it’s almost legendary.

Kid 3: (Going forward to meet Kid 1…handing him some Chiptech...blue potato chips launched by Lays…available at all school cafeterias for 50 bucks…per packet) 'What an Orz man…I am so ruined. I lost all my project papers!'

Note: "Orz" is a Japanese emoticon of a man pounding his head on the floor. The o is the head. The r is the arms. The z is the legs. Used to symbolize the emotion of frustration.
This could actually go on. But I just decided to give my scenario a "wtf". My research says "wtf" is profane for print. So let’s not analyze.

Note to My Husband – This is All I Need

This might be an extension or a near-repetition to my ‘I Like’ post. But I need to settle scores right now. Redundancy in my blog posts is not a concern at this moment. He called me materialistic on my face, after I wanted nice orange Ajrakh curtains for the windows. Right…that’s how mean he is when I refuse to make an extra bull’s eye for the Sunday breakfast. So here’s a list of things (explained visually) that would make my life quite complete. Who needs a sad corporate life, away from parents, with gluttonous, food-centric husbands, bull’s eye, and Ajrakh curtains, when I get any of these?

Toast and juice for breakfast


Amazingly frothed cappuccino

A sit-out at one of Neemrana's forts

A drive down a lonely mountain road

A log hut in the woods

An attic full of absolute nothings

A view of the snowfall at Central Park

A Japanese garden by a bookshelf
Umm...so, I'm materialistic...any issues?