Friday, December 26, 2014

I Need A Blanket And Some Quiet. Hugs Are Good Too.

I've been tackling an impending sense of doom lately. It's a little stupid because it has to do with how everything that is beautiful and wonderful about my life right now will eventually come to an end. I completely get that this realisation is the stalest thing to hit me this hard, this late. 

But I'm gasping and stumbling and stuttering... and just, hang in there with me won't you? Tell me it's sad. Tell me it's the most crushing battle we face with our lives every day...and although sad, it's also comforting...and  that eventually all of this will plop into the massive well of oblivion and everything...even this sadness....won't matter. 

It strikes me that this is probably the most morbid thing I've written right after Christmas. I'm sorry. Please accept this video, as a token of my apology. 

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

I wrote a post about this weird dream I had, and another one about..well...Pain. And then I mixed up the two and somehow it made rare sense to me.

I dreamt about a tiny cat the size of my thumb. Shiny black glistening.

See the thing is...I was fine. Till some people started coming in... Suddenly it wasn't so lonely anymore.

Then it melted and became black ice cream. And I was worried about having incurred its wrath.

I forgot however, that,  with myself, the scope of messing up was limited, of constantly worrying about hurting others feelings.(I worry a lot, unnecessarily so sometimes.)

Then it rebuilt itself and started looking like a kangaroo. A black kangaroo.

And when people and the baggage that come with them begin to push you to the point of constant self- doubt, you take the only plausible way out: you let go.

I was worried about people looking at it and being mean to it. Because it was a cat and a kangaroo.

That's the beauty of this strange exercise of letting go...two aspects  that are beautiful in fact.

And then it got angry one day. I can't remember why. I realised it wasn't just a cat kangaroo. It was also a dragon.

One, you realise how strong you are: how very strong. Even though you feel like you can't function properly a single day  given this kind of sadness( it comes in waves).You God do you cry... You cry so much that you can't hold it in even when you're in the middle of mundane things like walking back home. And yet...the next day comes and the next...and guess what? You're functioning. The tears, the self-loathing and the innumerable Oh-My-God-Why-Amn't-I-Dead-Yet moments notwithstanding. Like an old fashioned, resilient, gramophone, you play, you sing.

I have never wanted to  not wake up from a dream this badly.

And sometimes, if you're lucky the second beautiful thing happens: some of them come back. Despite all odds.

This is the closest I can come to explaining the creature I spent 8 hours with....minus the puppy dog friendly eyes 

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

The Messed Up Adventures of the Glorious Pixie of Nutella Break-Ups

I am going to be honest. Been feeling lost somewhere between Stuck and Stupid Land lately. As hard as I've tried to write about it, the mind has been very stubborn. All it came up with was one single word: Blah.

So,  I decided to share some of the Random things and Photos I've saved over ages,  on my phone which totally don't make sense to me right now.
  • I plan things simply to enjoy the grandeur in watching them get fucked up
  • Best way to enjoy Fifa without disturbing your sleep cycle: keep the telly on at a moderately high volume and wake up when the guy starts shouting like he's about to wet his pants. You know the one. 
  • You know when you have a boil in the center of your forehead? Pretend it's your third eye. 
  • Have you ever looked at your life and I don't feel like it? 
  • When someone addresses my trust issues I'm always like do you trust that I will trust you eventually despite my trust issues? Pretty sure that's recipe for some sort of weird wormhole

Me neighbours are doing it right. Nothing says "Welcome" better! 

Prince Bart just had his coronation and is happy to say goodbye to the wild nights.

This video cheered me up a little though. Maybe you need to watch it too, unless I'm the last person on this planet to catch up with this. 

This is my life now. I am the dude with the rainbow whistle.

And THEN....right when I was almost done with this post, something.awesome.happened. 

Jenny, the Bloggess wrote a post about  "Helpful Hints" or "Life Hacks" as she calls it, for the Church of the Bloggessianism. So, I'm reading through these commandments, going "hear hear" to all of them, till I stumble across these: 

  • Time is a “wibbly wobbly concept” and therefore deadlines are portals that must be avoided unless we’re okay with being trapped in a rift.
  • Bloggessians can decline social events without guilt for any reasons related to their heads getting in the way.
I'm thinking, why does that sound so familiar.....cut to comment.number.94! :D :D 

To think that Jenny chose two of my suggestions as  her favorite and they now occupy pride of place among all these insanely awesome commandments of the Church of Blogessianism... makes me furiously happy!!! Given how much of a difference The Bloggess has made in my life... I think this made my whole week. 

I've already chosen my title: 

~Glorious Pixie of Nutella Break- Ups~

This has been the best sorting ceremony ever!

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

I'm Going To Be An Author of A Book That's Called Oh Fuck Everything Sounds Dirty, Life Is Sorted.

You know when you happen to stumble on a picture of someone who you kinda worship and she's always been your mentor, and in this picture she's wearing a skirt? ...and it just looks wrong? 

Like Yoda wearing a thong?

Yoda jumps high wearing thong and lightsaber
This is the only legit picture I found on the internet, of yoda wearing a thong.That must say something.

And then I'm thinking...wait am I becoming some sort of a prude?

As if to prove a point, right then a sweet friend (SF) who also happens to be a doctor, texts:

SF: I just spent 2000 bucks  on food that I didn't enjoy at all.

Me: What did you order crow's feet? How is food that expensive not enjoyable?

SF: Er, I don't know why you think crow's feet is expensive. But we ordered Hilsa, Mutton and Naan.

Me: All of that sounds fine except the hilsa and the naan...that sounds awkward, like that situation where you use cooking oil for a lubricant and then the sun heats your skin up and then the next thing you know your tits are on fire. (Don't believe me?  Comment.No.23 )

SF: was going to say we ordered the fish for starters, but never mind then. Medically speaking though?  I'd actually like to see the whole flaming tits situation someday. You know...for experience. Never mind, no matter what I say from here on out, my brain's gonna go: Oh fuck, everything sounds dirty.

Me: Yes. Everything sounds dirty. That would be the name of my book if I ever wrote one. But maybe I'll change my name to something more exotic Hysteria James Bond, but more panic-y. 

SF: Times of India..."exceptionally unorthodox writer of the century" ..but wait, Hysteria James doesn't even sound mildly erotic.

Me: I wrote exotic, not erotic you perv.

SF: I'm kinda feeling terrible for reading exotic wrong. It's like I don't even know myself anymore. Forgive my inherent pervyness. 

Me: Really now, you're talking to the AUTHOR of Oh Fuck Everything Sounds Dirty. All bets are off. 

And just like that....I wasn't feeling like much of a prude anymore. 

Thursday, October 16, 2014

The Need For New Eyes

You know how they say your twenties are all about finding your roots? Those baffling years when you come home wounded and looking for answers. And somehow miraculously you find them in the place you grew up in, in the turn of a phrase your mother uses....before you know it you are enmeshed in this overwhelming warmth  and a desperate need to cling on to all these things and love them all over again right from the start?

Well that can't happen to me.

Because it's hard to distance yourself from a place you've been living in all your life. Of course I've had some amazing travel experiences.But if you were to graph geography against the number of years in my life it would be a rather flat curve.

It's like living with someone and not noticing them gradually losing/gaining weight. You've lived here all your life so yeah you know the landmark changes like that huge reservoir that got built, the new grocery store..the new mall that came up etc. But you don't quite notice the nuances. Like maybe if I went away for a bit and came back I'd see something that would strike know?

 And that's what really bugs me. That I can't see this with new eyes. I want new eyes (at the risk of sounding like Mad Eye Moody). 

However, I have been in a position to understand this. I've been going to my University for the past 5 years, studying in it, cursing lots of things about it. But I never did once stop and see how beautiful it is....

That Afternoon when the Sun made the waters glisten.

If you look closely, there's a sliver of a moon up there ~sigh~ I'd use the photo in its original glory  here but my blog is behaving like a fastidious Italian fashion designer.

.....and how if I'd just stopped and stayed a little while longer.... I'd hear its stories and not feel like such an outsider. 

It's a bit of a paradox really because I stay so close to the place, I could go there for a walk. But now it means so many other things to me. Instead of recalling all the happenings on campus I can't help but always count all the things I didn't do here.  I didn't stay back and catch up with my class mates after a long day of classes, over a steaming cup of coffee/tea (as is the usual custom), I didn't attend extracurricular clubs (debating and photography would have been my choices), I didn't open up to my professors (it kind of goes on but I'll stop here.You're welcome.) 

Now it's  bitter sweet. My campus tugs at my heart and makes me wonder if it's all just in my head. Maybe if I had a do-over I'd hate the place all over again. 

But I guess what I learnt from this is to always allow your heart to be vulnerable instead of being quick to judge moments we are going through and then hating it and then falling into the hate spiral that some of us know so well. 

And maybe some day I can fly away and know the joy of coming back to old places without regrets.

 Homecoming is always a sweet thing. :)

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Part 1: Weekend Getaway to Haldia

This is about that time I had a a really bad week and didn't want to talk about it. And you can relax, I still don't. 

It's just that my bad week thankfully coincided with the weekend that mom,one of her best friends and I decided to travel to the districts. For fun. 

When I told my friends, I was going to Haldia for fun, one half of them made political jokes and the other half would just stare at me baffled and go..."but what's there in Haldia?" So not the best build up before a trip. 

Then we boarded our "Volvo" buses and I could hear birds chirping in my head with the uneasy silence between the three of us. It was shabby. Definitely not what we were expecting. So mom's friend (P) finally decided to address the elephant in the bus and meekly said "er...the make of this bus isn't of the Volvo kind. Maybe a Small-vo.." with a sheepish grin.

The proactive mother had to immediately call our contact person at Haldia, a certain Mr. Sengupta (S.G) to ascertain if there were better options for our way back to Kolkata.S.G said this was the only "luxury bus" available. Moreover, on our way back this bus won't be plying because of some strike... and we could discuss the "options" once we see him. 

I sat back, rested my head against the tattered headrest of the bus, reluctantly (I have cleanliness issues, to put it mildly) and revised my expectations for this trip. More than anything, I was really hoping to clear my mind but right then it felt like a vague possibility. 

S.G  has been living in this place for the last 20 years.  When we thanked him for being so gracious and arranging this whole trip for us, he said "we have a lot of time on our hands around here." I'm not sure if he was being sarcastic about us ("you city dwellers" as he called us) But just hearing that felt good. So I made a mental note to maybe  use "I have a lot of time on my hands" as a conversation ice breaker with acquaintances because that shit is bound to put you at ease. Like yeah, she has a lot of time on her there's no need to rush things around here. It's okay to chill. That kind of know? (Or maybe this is terrible advice, don't take it) 

We asked him about the possible places we could visit from there. I'm thinking Go, On, Sir, prove my friends wrong...pretty please...and there's again that deafening silence. 

Thankfully though P had a whole list of places she'd downloaded "from the internets". Mr. Sengupta(S.G)  shook his head at all of them..."I don't see what you'd want to see there" 

So we ambled along hesitantly in our car post breakfast and here's what there wasn't much to see of: 

A Temple on the grounds of a deserted palace- Mahishadal, West Bengal 
The Deserted Palace- Mahishadal, West Bengal 

Palace adjacent to the deserted palace, apparently we like contrasts.  
This place is teeming with taxidermy, old books, gramophones...
the works! You're not allowed to take pictures though. 
At this point we were rather surprised to find actual places tourists could visit. And P started to tell the palace curator how West Bengal was teeming with wondrous places and how she would be sure to ask her family to visit Tamluk. 

The curator gave a wry smile and said "that's great madam, why don't you ask them to visit this poor palace in Mahishadal as well." 

It's amazing how we know the names of so many obscure places on the world map, places we probably won't be able to visit in a lifetime...and yet our geographies get so messed up when it comes to these great spots waiting patiently to be discovered on extended weekends. This reminds me of how I get with  distant relatives on Facebook...I know them by my idea of them...a nickname or a blank placeholder. On Facebook they use their real names,  a friend request from them and I'm always like...who are you? I don't know you. Oh wait, you're So and so's husband. Right. Sorry my bad.


There was  a procession in Tamluk 

Color, Noise, Paper and A Whole Lot of Gaping. 

They had some mad beats. I have no idea what dude in the brown shirt 
is doing and why he's making weird faces at my mom who has taken this picture. 
I don't know what they were celebrating, but there were little boys and girls dressed as Gods, Goddesses, brides and they passed by too fast for me to enquire. It was the independence day weekend though. So, maybe this is their quirky homage to our nation. 

After another stop at a temple, it was lunch time.  I had a bit of an incident. Mom really wanted to get the "local flavour" and try some fish in these random cooking shacks. I wasn't very opposed to the idea myself.  But the smell of that place hit me out of nowhere and I couldn't eat.  Which was absolutely fine except our driver felt so terrible about it that I wanted to go back in time and stuff my face with food just to stop him from sulking. 

But we were already off to another obscure place...Gyeonkhali,this time... the confluence of the rivers Hooghly, Rupnarayan and Damodar. 

We stopped at a restaurant. (The driver was very relieved.) However, they didn't have any food... shops, restaurants everything shuts down at 1 p.m in the districts. But the driver didn't have to know. 

I got me some chilled Thums Up instead and had my pretend lunch in a mostly deserted room.... with a view. 

Gyeonkhali, West Bengal. 
It became a guessing game: which country are  the ships  
coming in from. You can tell from their names and the more obvious hint of the flag. 

Thus, ends part 1 of this trip. 

I realise that this was meant to be a blog post about our weekend getaway to Haldia and not one of these places are in Haldia. At this point I'm thanking my lucky stars I'm not a travel writer. 

Let's talk about Haldia in Part 2 which hopefully happens...or doesn' rush,  no pressure.  ( Because this is a safe space, a laze around as much as you want space and more importantly a me- space. And Peace is of primary importance here. )

My work and  life in general right now... is all about delivering and seeing end to end completion of every bit of task handed out to me...It's annoying, tedious and I'm always unprepared. Of course,  I get that it's not very adult of me to complain about this. But posting something that might be left  unfinished  feels like a glorious aberration and I shall partake in this tiny ceremony, guilt-free. 

Monday, September 1, 2014

Tire Swing

When I was growing up I always thought "Lay a whisper on my pillow" from Must Have Been Love by Roxette meant that Roxette was on her periods. And I thought the following "lay the window on the ground" clearly just means she's PMSed bad enough to  tear open a window with her bare hands! That song used to comfort me, because I thought surely things are not  bad as this for me. I have no delusions about love while PMS ing which sounded like a really hard trip if you ask me.

 And then I grew up and discovered the internets and consequently, this thing called Google that lo and behold! allows you to search song lyrics on-line.  And that made me very sad because suddenly everything wasn't as you'd imagined it to be...much like life.. (the number of Celine Dion songs I'd messed up must be some sort of a record). 

Sadder still? I started to relate to the lyrics I was discovering anew. I cannot tell you how many times I have cried over these stupid songs. 

Now, when I tend to get carried away, I always remind myself that sometimes in life, you are going to cry and worry about songs that you were convinced at one point were about the unleashing of PMS rage, or something equally ridiculous....

"The trick, William Potter, is not minding that it hurts." 

Friday, August 22, 2014

The Concept of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and its Several Applications

Conversation I had with a dear friend, hence known as F (for sheer lack of imagination): 

Me: I just had an awesome idea about hot kathi rolls! 

F: Like that time you had that awesome idea about phones being programmed with smelltones instead of ringtones? 

Me: I'm always busy inventing brilliant ideas, remind me again. 

F: you know, you wanted to have the warm sputtering of cheese popcorn for a ringtone. It's too futuristic to put across in words. Or maybe that's a sign it shouldn't happen. 

Me: Ah yes, with the whole corn popping noise. I'm such a genius ~sigh~ 

F: And then you wanted to do something immediate about it and you sent me sushi on whatsapp. 

Me: really? Sushi? That sounds like an odd choice. 

Bento Box

F: Yes because whatsapp doesn't have a popcorn emoticon. And I'm not even sure if that emoticon was meant to be sushi, but you were pissed because "whatsapp's gone Marie Antoinette : 'Let them have sushi'." 

Me: At this point, I'm not sure if I said that or if you're making all this up just to fuck with me. 

F: No,  I remember this painfully well cause you kinda spoiled sushi *and* popcorn for me. And now you have another "awesome" food-related idea. So I can't wait, please go ahead. 

Picture Courtesy:

Picture Courtesy:

Me: Well you'll thank me for it later. You know the paper we use for the rolls? It gets tedious when you can't tear it out all at once right? And then you have all these little bits of paper torn out. So you're hogging the roll and littering the environment? 

F: uh-huh. 

Me: So I was thinking, what if  the "paper" was edible? 

F: really D? 

Me: no hear me out, it could be this thin coating of mint that dissolves in your mouth. Or maybe a potato chip flavoured Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans. 

F: exactly how many hours did you sleep last night?

Me: ~sigh~ one day I shall wake up and the world will nod a big yes at me. 

F: Good thing the world doesn't wear a Noddy hat.

Monday, August 18, 2014

What Saved A Bad Week


Last week has been mean. And I don't want to talk about it. 

So I'm going to share a picture of a green faced pig wearing a stache. I haven't thought of a name yet. 

It was a gift from a 9 year old. He had one look at me and said, "here have a biscuit and you can take him home. You're welcome." 

 Nine year olds are my new best friends. 

Updated: You know what would  top green-faced-pig-wearing-a-stache (a.k.a Mr. Bean) ? 

Mr. Bean riding a unicycle with a jaunty top hat. 

And when you see what you're about to see, you're going to hear a sound. Don't worry it's just the internet exploding from all this awesomeness. 

When I see him I always giggle because Mr. Bean looks like he's just realised he's riding a unicycle *and* he's missing a limb. He looks puzzled at best and freaking out enough to shit his pants at worst.  There cannot be a better representation of my life right now. 

Friday, August 8, 2014

For The Sake of Whimsy

I'm minding my business and watching Doctor Who when this ad pops up: 

I'm thinking well this must be like a test of my intelligence. Because that looks like a rotten banana and it's kind of obvious that you're not supposed to eat rotten shit because keywords? rotten. I was very tempted to click on the ad because it became a guessing game... what are the three other rotten things you can never eat to lose belly fat. I had a surprisingly long list. 

I mean don't get me wrong. I'm a whimsy lover. I use a butter dish for a soap dish for the simple fact that it's shaped like a fish. Except the fish keeps eating  all my soap up. My mother tells me that's because the butter dish isn't designed to be water-proof. 

I tell her, that's the only reason Titanic sank. Because butter dishes aren't designed to be water proof. Titanic's like "fuck you butter dish makers, I'm going to make sure  breakfast sucks in the motherfucking life boats. And when those sad losers get on land they will find you and kill you." 

My mother raised an eyebrow and let it pass. (Later when I told her I was going to meet a friend she said "a.k.a the shrink, right? Buuurrrrnnnn, she wins round 2) 

This is what it looks like except it's a fish instead of a snail (use your imagination!) and no I'm not sharing my bathroom pictures with you because I'm a lady, that's why! Also bathroom is in a terrible mess. Also, tell me it doesn't scream "Soap dish" and I will hit you. 

Also, I asked myself am I the only person on this planet that thinks ghosts don't have to wear underwear? Because that would be insane and I could get rich....(because being the only person in the world that comes up with ideas that will have no impact on anybody's life is what millionaires are made of? Or not. I think I'm confusing millionaires for homeless people.)

And Google throws up this picture and I'm like damn. Fuck it, being rich is over-rated. And so is being homeless. I'm fine with my fish butter turned soap dish. 

Monday, July 28, 2014

Rainy Day Essay Revisited

The rains are upon us, incessant, like the wailing of a baby in the night time, fraught by unknown fears in its heart. 

I am harrowed, exhausted, suffocated in the few hours (or is it just an hour) that it takes me to get to and from work rather than the 8 hours I spend at office. When I'm stuck in the cardboard box shaped taxis or the burgeoning buses with it's heaving breasts and shoulders I always think of this city drowning. I wonder how much water it would take to wipe everything's lush green, dark angel, sweaty bus ticket remains. And then I hear the sighs, yawns and exasperated screams around punctuated by incessant notifications of a door bell ringtone of yet another whatsapp message and I feel like everyday it is... Drowning...

I don't know why the rains amplify the tenuous actions of day to day so much.

So, I thought I'd be clever and ask my cab driver to drop me to my house instead of getting down and taking a rickshaw from a convenient point like I usually do. Mostly because I thought I wouldn't find rickshaws given the state of the rain. But as I guiltily made my way  in my cab chariot I saw a long queue of obedient riders. A part of me wanted to get down and forget about being so lazy. But the other part said hey, don't I deserve this little bit of luxury? Of being dropped home directly when it's raining ponds outside? 

How weird that I thought of this when we stumbled upon the water logged streets leading to my home and the taxi driver asked me to kindly get the fuck out of his car. And so I did. It isn't even a coincidence that I'd read this post on Facebook on that very day. 

This is what happened to an abandoned mall:( This picture seems like its right out of  the horrors I store in my mind. 

Wading through the waterlogged fishes and snakes and leeches clogging my paranoid mind, I kept the fear of being swallowed whole by a giant sea monster safely at bay by trying to hurry through it and gasping and panting and finally falling face down into the mush. 

It strikes me then that I am stupid. That rather than the monsters in my head I should be worried about the acid in the rain and the saliva of random strangers who spit on the street all the damn time. And the biggest enemy of all: my rampant clumsiness.

With that comes the startling realisation that my face just got marked by the  kiss of a thousand strangers and all I could think about was that poem about the road by T.S Eliot: "You had such a vision of the street/As the street hardly understands."  

So I waited it out till my knight in shining rickshaw came and took me home after charging me triple the standard fare. There's something to say about these men who ride....maybe not as vicariously or on the edge as a vehement bike rider... But a slow rhythmic clickety clack rickshaw journey. It's  like a dance:  all sinews and legs and hands... with a hint of a different era: ancient, slower, glowing times. 

"I am moved by fancies that are curled 
Around these images, and cling: 
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing."

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Fragile Things

 My cousin brother is all set to leave for college, to the very tip of the country. It's been a while since we've spoken properly what with his exams and just... life getting in the way. It was startling to see him all grown up, talking about his first heartbreak.... and how it felt like going away to college right now was tantamount to  being an escapist. 

Growing up we were pretty close. Till he became a teenager and me a college going elder sister that suddenly developed this armour of judgmental bitch around her to justify not having a life. 

 And what struck me was this thing he said : " The last thing I want is to be is a lonely dick. I am really relying on my friends to get me through this." I felt weird about his looking down on lonely people given that I love being alone so much. I'm not a lonely dick, I wanted to tell him.

 But I couldn't because he just seemed so...driven and motivated to win the world. Like if I gave him one whiff of air he'd catch that and fly away that very moment. 

His impatience was infectious but something I cannot relate to anymore. 

When he was leaving I bought him Neil Gaiman's Fragile Things. Because he was gushing about this wonderful quote he read on "the wall of a friend on Facebook, it's called the day the saucers came...have you read it?" My brother usually doesn't read. And when he does it's normally short stories because he has the attention span of a fly. So I thought this book would be perfect for him. 

The Day the Saucers Came by Neil Gaiman. I feel like he's the Tim Burton of the literature world.This going to be read at my wedding

He asked me if I would write something for him on the book. And although it was difficult to concentrate with the song in the shop blaring its raucous tune I did manage to write something for him: 

 "Dear B, Congratulations....
 In life you will find that fragile things need the most protecting. And almost always? It is completely worth it."

 I forgot to sign my name at the end. But I'm sure if I did I'd write "Lonely  Contented Dick" and watch him make a face at me.  

Thursday, June 12, 2014

The Day I Need To Remember Today.

I had a really bad day today. I'm so tired that  my legs feel like they're going to fall off. But I feel awful, so I'm going to revisit that time when hosting events were fun in their own weird way and I shall post it, to remind myself that today was a bit of an exception: 

(And I'm going to pretend that this actually happened today, it's my therapy, stop screaming at me for confusing you)

If this day had a commandment it would be "Thou shalt not have  dessert."

But first I must comment on how I was dreaming about a Doctor Who episode. And then my alarm went off. Which is fine, except I'd forgotten setting the alarm tone as the TARDIS Take Off tone (don't you dare judge me)...and my dream like state kind of convinced me that the world of Doctor Who was really the real one...and it was awesome and beautiful and made me weepy in a good way.Like the magic  that happens when you go visit this link and click on the picture: Seriously click on's not a trick! I promise.

And then I heard this woman screaming at me in the distance going: "WTF D...why are you having cereal in your morning cup of coffee? There is milk for that. Sheesh. Must I always do everything for you?" Mom. And suddenly I was...awake.

 Then I had a long day the details of which I won't bore you with but I will tell you that it culminated into me  hanging out at a Poolside Bar. So I wasn't complaining. Except I'd taken barely a sip and all my make up spilled out of my bag, randomly. Just kidding. I was trying to get a wet tissue(did I mention they're just baby ass-swipes that I use as wet tissues? Trust me, my cheeks have never been softer :p) for my colleague...and then my make up spilled out and this polite pool woman asked if she could help me and I said no. And then as if to prove a point more make up fell out and my colleague's like " Sheesh, you're a cake, I could eat you." And I said, "not really, this is all my back up make up? Like I need to just have them in my purse to feel secure about myself. Because I'm that shallow." and then I finally gave in and told the pool woman that I would need some help. And then this other bar guy came over and pointed out it was the chair's fault, because it sloped a way chairs aren't supposed to slope. I guessed that's what you're supposed to say to rich people. So, I whispered to him. "It's okay, I'm not rich. I'm just here for a work thing." And then he just coughed and offered me Dahi kabab. Apparently that's a delicacy.

It was yum, in a very confusing way. 

This was a turning point because I decided I can't embarrass myself in a more humongous way this evening, so I started to do what they called "networking". It was suuuppperr hot. The weather not the networking, and the guys were dressed in their suits and had to take them off. So I said, " This is a pool party, except a different kind of pool, you know?" And I raised my eyebrows knowingly. They didn't know, so I had to then explain that it was more like a dissolve in your own pool of sweat party? And then they decided to take it  indoors. The beautiful air conditioned indoors.

Conversation flowed freely, except that one time when I tried to hand out  my business card and this bus ticket fluttered out of the card holder thingy. 

This is what bus tickets look like here. Except it was just this one ticket which didn't look even mildly artful 

And there was something so odd about finding a bus ticket in that place at that time, that I got desperate to put it under my shoe...hide it some place, except I had to do a jig around it to successfully do so... which made it more embarrassing.  Let's just say I'm glad, I'm not meeting these people again.

We got to a point where we started talking about our hobbies. And I told them how when you reach a certain age you are immediately enrolled to learn some dance form or singing (preferably classical), or drawing classes in Kolkata. It's like a custom. I mentioned Bharatnatyam. And this guy asked me if our state had any dance forms children could learn...and I said not really. And then I added there were several tribal dance forms we have but parents don't usually go in for that kind of thing with their kids, and for some reason all my colleagues burst out laughing to this. I still don't get what's so funny. I'm guessing they pictured themselves doing the chhau. That would be pretty funny. Haha. Now I can't stop thinking about all these guys doing the chhau. Shut up mind.

The Chhau. Making People Giggle At Dinner Parties Since 2014, Apparently. 

Leila Seth walked in quietly and gently for dinner, and then I I've started reading this book she's written and I'm totally enamoured of Her Honour. So I did the only thing I could: take her autograph and attempt to convey to her how much her writing has inspired me.  She waved at me after dinner and left. My heart melted. 

This was a perfect day. I want to remember it. Despite all the madness. And despite having to skip dessert because that's what happens when you work hard. You skip a dessert or two. But then there's always your hero wishing you success and happiness on paper. :)