An Aside

In Calcutta now. For worse or for better I don’t know. What I do seem to know is that I was better in Goa than here. Sure I was sick there, but to faint because of the pain? To be injected painkillers? To look at Facebook and see everyone my age living a normal life while I need help to even get up from the bed? To read the monthly and fortnightly magazines, learn brand new recipes and be able to eat only bland inedible food meant for the terminally ill? I am not sure I even want to continue living this way. Only, I haven’t got the strength to slash that wrist even when the blade is really close to the nerve. There’s too much holding me back, there’s too little courage, and there is too little to win this way.

The thing is, I don’t want to be experimented with. Today one doctor says something, and the next day another completely turns the treatment around and then I am supposed to hold on and have faith. Today my stomach kills me and tomorrow my back does not give me even an hour’s respite. I cannot even walk unassisted, forget going out or even meeting people to distract myself. Each glass of juice, each plate of fruits, each piece of boiled chicken and every glass of water reminds me that I am a fucking patient whose earlier life of going out, having fun, eating and drinking with abandon was all a mirage. Every bloody thing reminds me I am a bloody 27 year old with a debilitating disease, who can give neither company, nor sex to her husband, who can give not one moment of peace to her family, not an hour’s good time to all the friends who care. And what do people say?  Accept it, things will get better. This too shall pass. When? When the fuck shall this ever pass?

I have not smoked in the last 4 days or so. And I think I will now. When everything is going the wrong way, something has to stick. Against my best intentions, if it means that I have to go back to smoking, so be it.

Don’t comment or say anything please. This post is more of a rant voiced than anything to tell you specifically. And honestly, after everything I could do without the pooh-pooh.

Airport Security and Jammu & Kashmir

Call it inverted reasoning, but I find myself safer on a flight than a train. I know it is easier to hijack a plane rather than a train, and with a train accident you can still survive, but somehow given all the security at airports I feel safer. You know, the super efficient people walking around with walkie-talkies and earphones, the hyper X-ray machines and all that security stuff…they make me really secure in a strange sort of way.

But I was in for a shock if I thought airports were really as secure as I believed them to be. Did you know that in India, if you are on a flight from Jammu and Kashmir, you are allowed no cabin baggage because of airport security reasons?! I scanned through the websites of some of our best domestic carriers and barring a few, each one mentioned this clause, as you may take a look below.

Ok, so I, as a regular tax payer, am paying for security in this country. I am sure the state of J&K is not exempt from the tax net. So airport security is not really my concern, is it? All that money is made available to the Airports Authority of India to make our airports safe and secure for every passenger. Any incident that happens in spite of this is a lapse on the part of the security outfit of the airport. Modern airports are equipped with every kind of security system, from lasers to X-ray machines, sniffer dogs and hand-search facilities, and sensors to mark out any objectionable item a passenger is carrying. So, given all that jazz, and all the money we are paying for our safety, why should passengers travelling from a particular state not have the right to carry essential items in cabin? What about an infant diaper bag? What about a laptop? What about a book that I might want to read, or notes that I want to make in flight? What about essential medication a severely asthmatic patient might need? How are these transported?

In essence, if the AAI thought that the passengers travelling from J&K are a potential risk to the rest of the country, should they not deploy additional security for those passengers and then when everything is cleared, let the passengers travel like the rest of the country does? Is this not a major breach in the security system charade that the airlines system of India is thrusting upon us?

What do you think? Should there be additional security or should this system of discrimination prevail?

PS: Sorry if you can’t read the pics. For some reason I could not upload clickable ones or larger ones.

Sex, Lies and Betrayal

And just when I thought there was nothing to write about, D tells me about Om Puri’s reaction to his wife’s shocking expose of his sexual encounters.

Ok, so all you married people know this already, tell your partner one thing in a moment of emotion, and it will come back to you. I can’t blame D of being so vindictive, but I am, and I have been known to bring up a lot of things in a fight. I won’t say it is ok to do that, and I am sure a lot of you have done this, but something as cheap as what Om Puri’s wife went and did, is unacceptable by any standard. See, writing your man’s autobiography does not mean you have to make him look like some sleazy sex maniac who waits to pounce upon the first maid in sight. I am sure there were other more inspirational parts of Om Puri’s life that the sensation-hungry wife of his forgot to mention, in trying to sell her book through all that sexual drama. This is such sheer breach of trust. And no matter how she tries to defend herself now, the fact that she did not let him touch the manuscript before, let alone seeing it, does that not prove that she had wanted it to be this way all along?

And before you ask, I see nothing wrong with Om Puri himself. So he had sex with a maid as an adolescent. Big deal man. I know a lot of men who have at various ages fucked their teachers, aunts, cousins, maids, family friend’s daughters, neighbours and every other woman possible. Only I do wish Om Puri was not trying to make it sound like some prize-winning achievement comparing himself to Gandhi (and I am talking of sleaze) and all.

What these people do not seem to understand is, no matter how well you aim your pee, the last drop will always fall on your own pants. Saying such things about her husband shows Mrs. Puri in such cheap light too. But do you agree with me when I say that she has sought her fifteen seconds of fame through an utter betrayal of her husband’s trust? Or do you think this was art for its own sake and sex that needed a public discussion? Speak up, and it will be muchly appreciated.

And The News Is…

…Goa had a baby typhoon all of the last two days and I spent most of it in bed with fever. It’s passed now, but believe you me, all of last night I was scared the window at the head of my bed is going to break into pieces with all that rain and wind and that I was going to board my flight home with a severely gashed face. Paranoid, I know, but I happened to cover my face before I slept.Those people who said it’s hard to hold a candle in the cold November rain were right, you know. Even with all doors and windows shut, enough draught came in from the cracks to blow out my candles in the power cuts last evening.

D was very sweet over the last two days. He got me food from outside because I couldn’t get up to cook, and he even made a maggi dinner when I nearly fainted over the gas trying to cook. I like being sick I think…the man is outstanding at those times, with chocolates and loads of TLC ready. Sure has what it takes.

Ok, so won’t embarrass him any more. I think this time I am really looking forward to the trip back home. Cooking being one primary reason for this. I am tired of being in the kitchen and making stuff, so I am dying to go home where I can be on bed all day, reading something or watching TV and at night there would be some ready meal waiting for me. I do not have to make my own breakfast and do not have to weep over onions and there would be really hot maachher kalia and pulao waiting for me at the table. Not to mention mutton biryani and some yum prawns. Only, I am getting torn between the trip to the hills at the end of the year and the lure of being in Goa in the festive season. Worse, I am also going to Chennai to see a doctor. Not nice. All this while D goes feasting on fried scorpions and earthworms in Vietnam.

All the same I am not really looking forward to the JU reunion. I never thought very highly of my university, blasphamous as it sounds. In fact, somewhere deep withing I still remain a student of the Presidency College, where I was more alive. JU saw me more doped, less interested. The place somehow did that to me, and besides, I liked the smaller scale of things at Presidency. But I think I will be there if I am in town. Just as a timepass perhaps.

I will probably not have much access to the internet in Calcutta, so forget any posts. I might reply to mails from the mobile, but Farmville and the blog will have to wait. Damn.

So then. So much for now.

I’ll Be Gone (Again!!)

I am going home again to have tubes thrust up and down me, and it will be a while before I get back. At home I usually do not blog, so there will be no posts from me here for two months at least. Probably.

And somehow like last time I am not terribly sad at the thought of going home. I know the restrictions on smoking will be stricter than always yet, I am kind of looking forward to all that biryani and mutton. Even luchi. And perhaps the trip to Nainital at the end of the year. And the university reunion. And some shopping.

So there, my loves, miss me, and keep an eye on this place around early Jan, when I will be back with all my stories, yeah?

PS: A’s birthday gift to me, Chetan Bhagat’s 2 States came in on Friday and I finished it in one day. Interesting, though I thought Bhagat has shown Punjabis in a really bad light to appease his South Indian in laws. And stereotypical in parts. You read it yet?

Controversy Opens Here

Read a piece of news that said Muslims in India have issued a fatwa against the National Song because it calls us to worship the country. Even with some amount of patriotism, I think I understand their point, you know. Why would anyone go against the tenets of one’s religion, something that one follows in every manner possible, to go worship something else? Even if it is the country we are talking about. And why just Muslims? What about Parsis, Sikhs, Arya Samajis and all those people who do not worship anything but one being?

In fact, Muslims are the only people I know who follow their religion so well. How many of us Hindus have been inside a temple in the last five years? How many of us Christians have lit the candle on Sunday? But all the Muslims I know have done their Ramzan and read the Quran. So if religion is so important to them, why would they want to go against it and worship the country? Perfectly justified, I think.

And come to think of it, I do not think the national anthem is that great either. Ok, I do feel very nice when it’s being sung, and I insist on people standing in attention for it, but the song was meant to be an ode to the English king, for Christ’s sake !! And the words in it are so bloody obsolete…Sindh is not even a part of India, even if we do have Sindhis here, and Orissa is Orissa, not Utkal any more. Bengal is West Bengal, not Bango. And seen one way, it too calls for blessings from the country…taba shubha ashish maage…which is again not in keeping with the vast population following Islam in this country. Couldn’t we have something neutral…something that all of us can sing without it being a bone of contention for anyone…something lie Saare Jahaan Se Achha…?

What do you think?

Paroma’s Tag

I was tagged a few days back for this!!

ONE day after my birthday the party mood kicks in.

TWO countries D is visiting and I’ grateful I am not: Vietnam and Thailand.

THREE weeks before I go home to Ma’s cooking, New Market and heavy quilts.

FOUR things I love in my closet: Jeans, a tiny little skirt, sexy lingerie and pyjamas

FIVE malai pedas today and I am bloody stuffed !!

SIX people I am cooking for tomorrow.

SEVEN days of the week we go out for a short ride somewhere, or to the beach.

EIGHT legged freaks think of my home as a bloody orphanage. Spiders appear everywhere I look !!

NINE is the number of empty bottles of alcohol I see right now in front of me. Darn, I need to throw them away real quick.

TEN hours of sleep every day. Minimum. Anything less leaves me cranky, anything above is welcome.

Ronojoy, your turn.

And Paroma, Happy Birthday to you darling. I am so glad I know you. You have really been wonderful.

Thank You !!

It was a rather nice birthday this year. D went to work and I spent the day taking calls and answering online messages. In the evening G and S realized I was spending the day all by myself with D being stuck at work till midnight at least and came over with a lovely cake. It was, as you see, a yummy Black Forest.

Cut it a tiny bit for the guys and then when they left I was chopping up vegetables for dinner when the bell rang and I opened the door to see D standing there, grinning, with lovely roses and a chocolate. Quite a surprise, but worked out fine because his boss thought his priority for the day should be me and not the all-important work he had to finish.

So we finished all the chocolate, got ready and went for a spin around the beach. Got back from there, went to a nice new restaurant here called Urban Dhaba where we had some lovely scotch to end the day. I am all puritanical about scotch and don’t believe in using any soda with it, but I wanted to be ok for the booze already at home so I mixed the teensiest bit of soda, and I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing it was. Had dinner with some hard roti and Gosht Rara, which is basically mutton cooked in a lot of onion, and I think yogurt. It was rather ok I think.

But all said and done, I have been thinking of saying a very personal thank you to all the people who remembered and who took time out to wish me. Being on social networking sites is a good thing you know, because of the sheer number of birthday wishes you get. I am going to name all the people here, so see if you can find your name.

Thank you Baba, ma, dada, boudi, D, Baba, Mamin, Hriju, Teesta, Sandy, Kitty, July, N-Kakima, K, Mani, Shantanu, Aditi, Pooja, Nylon Vimal, Arindam, Aritro, Navin, Ajay, Gautam, Shambhavi, Surajit, Rajeev, Somda, Shakun, Aditya, Tutul, Roshan, Lina, Asish, Subha, Sreerupa, Manishankar, Dutta, Vrinda, Soma, Priyanka- B,  Priyanka – U, Dimple di, Milton, Sunanda, Patralekha di, Shini, Meghna, Sanjeeb, Ballari, Prithwisha, Angana, Moitree, Tanmoy, Priyanka R-C, Gargi, Paromita G, Arunabha, Sreerupa, Anwesha, Avishek, Drikpriya, Sana, Ronojoy, Sejuti, Sureeta, Abhishikta, Moutushi, Sayan Sir, Didi, Matt, Jyothi, Gavi, Shouvik, Purbita (the only person I say same to you to when she wishes me, and not thank you – so glad to share the birthday with a fantastic person like you), Tua, Satarupa, Sreetama, Koyel, Rituparna, Paramita – N, Smita, Sana, Swati, Neil, Shalini, Paroma, Debo, Anupa, Goa on Wheels team, Ayantika, Paromita – D, Sangeeta, Sourav, Mityl Di, Tariq, Indraneil, Rajyasree, Rohini, Kabya, Sujoy, SD, Varina, Snehal, Dharitri, Soni, Medha. I am not sure if I am missing some here. If I am, apologies. But the wishes meant a lot to me and really made my day. Thank you so much people.

So, birthday pretty much over, have a friends’ party coming up tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes, shall we?

Such Is Senility !!

Hah, this is really funny and even I am laughing at myself.

See, I told you tomorrow’s my birthday? So, I have never really had a birthday party because one, we could not afford it, an two, because my father always had to go to work and I would never have a party without him at home. There was always lots of food though.

So this year, I just thought of throwing myself a party. I took a good look around the house and decided where the Happy Brthday banner and the balloons and streamers will go. I looked up party recipes on the net to make a great punch and a cake, and some appetizers before the previously planned beef stir fy, Singapore noodles and Priyanka’s chicken with sesame and red pepper. I was even looking at how to make personalized party favours and party hats for all of my five guests !! Can you believe the utter boredom in my life this evening?!! Or for that matter the utter frustration at not being able to spend a better evening by myself.  I mean, man, I have completely lost it, and it is not even my big day yet.

But I am a fully-fledged adult so I shall refrain from making an utter fool of myself and shelve the ideas till D’s birthday in 19 days from now.

Laugh all you will, because I am laughing too.

My Birthday’s Tomorrow

So tomorrow’s my birthday. Quite something, huh, considering how old I am about to become tomorrow.

You know I have never thought very nicely about my birthday ever. Because it was always at the end of the month when everyone, including my parents, my brother, my friend, my husband, my landlord, everyone, is out of money and waiting for the next salary before they can buy me something. So I never really received too many birthday gifts. Ok, I’d be lying if I said that there were never any gifts, because of course there were, but you know, a birthday gift doesn’t feel like a birthday gift unless you get it on your birthday. And it’s worse when people ask me what I want, because most often I want a nicely pink Sony Vaio or a nicely white Fiat Linea, or even an all expenses paid trip to Italy, but I can’t say that. I mean, how difficult can it be to pick out a gift for me? I love flowers, I love Mills and Boons, I love shoes, I love clothes, I love chocolate browinies, I love nicely big pillows and nicely framed pictures, I love nice crockery…so get me one of those rather than ask me what I want !!

Another thing I hated about my birthday is that it was always on a weekday. So everyone went to work or school and no one had any time to celebrate with me. Even this year D will be working on his stupid report and I will be sitting alone at home, with the laptop, playing Farmville on FB. My father has always sung to me over the phone because he was away on duty. My brother alway sent me a text message and my nephew always had homework to finish before you could talk to me. My friends were always at work or away, so no one ever had any time to come home and have a party with me, or even go out for dinner with me.

Anyway, so tomorrow’s the birthday and I am gifting myself something. It’s a new year for me, right, a new life? So I thought I shall make another desperate attempt to give up the last remnants of the fondness I still have for cigarette smoking. It’s like cutting the last thread that bound us together, but it’s ok. I have had my fair share of it and all the people around me, concerned for me, deserve some sort of respect. So there.

And all you people, leave a note to wish me. It will mean a lot. I’ll let y’all know how it went.