Weekend Update

Eventful weekend this.

Friday: Didn’t have much to do except worry about the family back home that suddenly has a spate of illnesses. Played cards with D till 4 am to distract the mind and learned Fish. This is the second card game I have learned and trust me, it’s good fun. Only D was way luckier and sometimes I was plain stupid so I lost by a huge margin. Now here’s where I am a traditional wife. My husband’s losses might be his own but his wins are definitely mine too. So I won. End of story.

Saturday: Decided we haven’t tripped in a while so went straight to the north east of Goa. The rains lashed on, the roads were broken and the forest was green as hell. Ended up getting lost in the forest and then coming back via a very long route. Which meant that a trip that was to be over in 3 hours took over 5. Got back home terribly tired and with a killer backache, but had promised to meet friends at a pub. Got dressed and went out again. Realized I was overdressed even before we parked. The other girls were wearing the barest minimum and I was in all sorts of full trousers and necklines that refused to plunge despite my best attempts. Spent barely 5 minutes there befre deciding to go back and drink at home and be more comfy. So went back, chatted, got a lot of flak for the smoking and got reasonably tipsy. Finally found a girl who is as addicted to shopping as I am, so that was great. Crashed at 5 am.

Sunday: Woke up really early and prepared to leave for the waterfall we had planned to go to, though honestly I was not up to it. he other guys came late so that was changed to a trip to the Cabo de Rama fort. We got drunk mid way, went to the fort, got terribly drunk again, had a lot of fun, took loads of pictures, and then decided to go home. On the way back a gang of Saudi Arabian boys drove so rashly that it pissed the hell out of all of us. They cut us in several times so we went honking after them. Another car braked suddenly in front of us so we crashed into it. The police came, took the cars to the station, and then released us for a hundred bucks (cheap, eh?) Now the car needs to be fixed, and the confidence needs to be brought back. We’re all ok though. Came home dog tired, had some takeaway and crashed. Woke up now…12 hours later.

Very eventful weekend this.

Things To Do Around 30

Just so you know I was serious when I said I was thinking of quitting. I do know that I can’t reduce and quit, because I never will, but I have to quit it all at once. So I went to find out about nicotine gums that are supposedly rather good. But the 4mg gum still puts a good deal of nicotine in you and I hear it is not too nice to leave in your mouth either. But there is this magic formula from the Pfizer group that guarantees you will quit smoking if you are willing to pay five grand for the therapy. I was very tempted to go ahead with it last night itself, but thankfully I was not carrying the cash.

So I came home, had a couple of cigarettes, and then decided to give myself some three years more. I will smoke till I am 30, and then, as a transition into a new decade, I shall quit smoking with the help of this magic drug. And get that hot bod that women at 30 are supposed to have.

Till then, as in till I reach 30, I shall work on quitting alcohol, so it doesn’t feel like too much of a transition at 30. You know, quit something in the 20s and then something in the 30s…ease the pressure your mind exerts when it sees you are becoming all tame and hits the panic button. Ok, this one is going to be easier. I am a bigger smoker than I am a drinker and I never really crave for liquor. The occasional craving for beer aside, I mean. But the truth is, I drink in excess only once a month, or once every two months depending on the company. On other days I either do not drink, or stick to between one and four drinks. So it will be easy to quit alcohol and that will inspire me to quit smoking. In good time. In fact, if we ever get back to Calcutta and as D says we must (though I’d prefer a place like Delhi) drinking will be rather restricted anyway, what with the high prices of alcohol and lack of interesting booze buddies. Fuck man, a girl can’t even light up in peace there, let alone be seen with a glass and tripping over everything in sight.

Is this coming across as some New Year resolution? Dunno but I think it does, and I am terrible at those. Last year my resolution was losing weight, and I ended up gaining a few more kilos. Ok, a lot more kilos, but who cares. I am still graceful and elegant and on days, rather hot.

Why am I rambling? Because I was woken up really early by a bloody neighbour who has not one hair on his head in his early 40s and he kept coming through my door to get to the terrace and fix the bloody water line. And then there were stupid wrong numbers and spam messages on my phone. And the eyeshade just did not fall in place so there was a lot of light in my eyes. And that Pure Magic vanilla cream biscuit tastes horrible. And I want to have some nice cold coffee with a lot of whipped cream and chocolate. And the internet is acting up again, and it is not even raining today.

And if you are poor person and believe in the goodness of piracy, go download A.R. Rahman’s latest. See y’all.

Should I Really Quit?

A while back my mother in law called to say there was a report about how smoking triggers off cancer way faster than everything else. Alright I knew about it, I have read reports and heard stories and seen pictures, and the thought of quitting has never occured to me. Why it never occured to me is I really enjoy smoking…it’s like a part of me now, and I have seen people spend more than half their lives smoking and nothing has ever happened to them. My logic always was that I am not going to have a baby, so why at all should I quit something that I can always fall back on? And the second thing was that, if cancer has to happen to me, as it probably will because ovarian cancer is hereditary, would I stop for the fear of dying? Or, worse, for fear of being incapacitated? Those can happen each time I go out on the road, or enter the kitchen. I could die or be permanently paralyzed in a road accident, in a leaked gas incident, in a sudden electric shock…anything could happen. Why blame my habit alone?

But this was the first time someone from the family actually spoke to me. Ok, she had earlier, but we rubbished it the last time because we thought it was more an image issue of the daughter in law smoking, more than health concerns. And this time she did talk about the health concern…the fact that I mean a good deal to her and a lot of family and the fact that I cannot afford to throw my life away on a whim. Sure, I could die any time, or be entirely dependent on someone else for the rest of my life to even lift my hand, but that could all be accidental, not because I forced it on myself. But smoking is what I am forcing on myself. C’mon let’s quit defiance for a moment and get honest, smoking does have its own issues, issues that are definitely harmful, that may change life inch by inch. So am I actually making myself an easier victim to the big C by lighting up and smoking 25-30 cigarettes a day?

I don’t really know. I am slightly scared, and more so by the fact that I have to sneak in cigarettes to no-smoking zones like zoos and parks, because I am so entirely dependent on cigarettes that often times I feel sick when I cannot smoke for a long-ish time. Each time I wake up in the middle of the night, for whatever reason, I need to smoke. I’ve begun to believe that smoking helps dissipate pain during menses, I smoke in a fight to calm down, I smoke when I am bored…and this is really not getting anywhere except perhaps raising the cost of cigarettes per day.

But would I quit? I told her I shall think about it, and I meant to. but I have had over five cigarettes in the last two hours…right after I hung up the phone. Can I quit? Do I have the desire or even the strength to give up the one thing that really makes me ok? Will I remember the cancer scare after I watch Friends on TV in a while? I don’t know. I know I need to, eventually, but I don’t know if I can.

Also, big respect to the mum in law for mustering enough strength to talk about it after being rudely snubbed the last time. Just shows she cares a bit more about me than I thought.

May be I should quit after all. Or, may be I can hope for the best and assume I will be safe for life.

Oh, fuck. I hate choices.

Thoughts About CGHS

Saw some pictures of school on Orkut and I was wondering, would I really be so sentimental about the place if I went back? While I have visited my university each time I go back to Calcutta, visiting the school has never occured to me. I feel no big attachment to the place, or its people, and somehow I am not ashamed to say so.

The reason CGHS doesn’t matter to me so much is because I have seen a lot of ugly sides of it, it all so filthy and sometimes so painful that  I wish that phase of my life never existed. Ok, I have had a good time at school too, thanks to some teachers. Some made my day by being kind to me, some encouraged me to express myself better, some were confidantes, some were just there. There were a lot others who ignored me, targetted me, and plain over rode me even when I was better than their pets. Would I ever forget how I lost out my chance at House Captaincy because someone else was the House Mistress’ favourite and therefore nominated in my place? Would I ever forget being pulled up because someone else wrote an expletive on someone else’s shirt? Would I ever forget they passed me over for the General Proficiency certificate because they had to squeeze in a favourite and I was clearly not the one giving them gifts for it? And can I ever forget how they believed one female after school and made this entire propaganda against me? I really don’t think so. And do I hold CGHS in great esteeem? No, I don’t. Because I sincerely believe it was full of partial teachers who did all they could to promote their favourites, and in the process a lot of others were thrown in to the corners. They were unkind, discouraging and plain offensive at times.

I mean seriously, I could have been from any school in Calcutta, and still be the way I am. Because I don’t think I learned anything from there, except may be my degrees. I learned the English language from a few teachers, from movies and books. I learned my history and geography from TV and General Knowledge books. I learned to write as an old habit outside school. But oh yes, I did learn how to be cut-throat, partial and plain bitchy from that place. I learned how to use people and then go stabbing them at the back from that place. And I learned how to butter up people from there.

In fact, if you talk about school to me, I have a few moments I can think of that really mattered. A few people who made the torture and humiliation bearable, and some friends who have shown their worth after school, when the obvious Section divide melted away. And because of that I own a community of CGHS ex-students, because now they matter.

But you know, I might just drop in there sometime…just to meet the people who made things nicer for me, and to tell some people that I have done well, despite their attempts. Beyond that…no, I don’t think I have the need to photograph and smile when I am in there.

Bitchy? Some people at CGHS taught me how to be ungrateful.

Check Your IMEI Now !!

Dial *#06# on your cell phone to know your IMEI. This is a directive from the Indian government and a public service message from me. You’re safe if you get a 16 or 18 digit no when you do this, but if you get a 0 get in touch with your operator asap. People who buy their phones from the grey market or without papers very frequently won’t have this no. and if you do not, you are liable to be entangled in a legal mess because your phone could have been used in a terrorist attack or activity in the past. Such phones are difficult to track and the government is making a major security move to track down and make them illegal.

Go on, check your phones.

PS: You can also use this no to call the operator and bar your phone if you happen to have it stolen as my phone was a few months back. Only, I did not have the no then. So the bugger who steals your phone can’t use it, or resell it.

To You

I am sick and very snappish today. It’s hot too, so you can imagine.

I could of course chat with some and feel better but everyone gives me the same shit about quitting cigarettes and I think I am a bit tired now. There are actually people who intend to stop talking to me if I don’t quit, and to them, all I can say is, go to hell. I am so much better without y’all.

I don’t get it, why is it such a matter of image if I smoke and fine if a man does? What’s there to stare? What’s there to threaten me with cancer and other illness scares?

The fact that I smoke and when I feel upto it, I can drink well beyond what you can imagine, and I am independent in my thinking and I want to have hair streaked blue does not make me a radical. I have no angst that I am hiding behind these. I am doing all this because I want to grow old and not regret being that. I don’t have to filter anything about my life. Fine I have had sex before marriage, fine I was a regular ganja girl, fine I bunked classes at college to go drinking…how does that make me a bad person if I am still around to hear your woes when others tell you they’re busy? And how does that make me a slut? My husband respects me, so who are you to tell me to make myself a “good girl”.

You know what will make a “good girl”? If I quit having anything to do with you. Yes, you. I don’t want your opinion about me, and about my blog. I don’t even want you here. So quit mailing me about how my blog embarrases you. You should know this by now, you have embarrassed me through school and then college. And I really have had enough of you.

So, fuck the hell out of my life.

A Bad Hair Story

And I had another haircut. Total, total disaster this one. I had allowd it to go completely out of shape and went out looking like a something even the cat wouldn’t drag in, all because I was waiting to have a great new haircut. I had wanted my stylist to shape it prettily and had meant to keep it slightly manageable with the monsoon and all. So I went there and told the guy to, you know, change a few things and make it look good. He began spraying water on my hair and I sat confidently there because I knew this guy is a genius who understands what I want and my need to look nice. He snipped, snipped and snipped before finally blowing my hair into a strange chaos that’s puffed in strange places, has bangs in stranger places and is completely limp in the strangest places. And all this while his smug look seemed to say “I am going to give you the sexiest monsoon haircut, girl”

Then he stopped, and my hair still looked insane. She looked at me with an expectant confident look got the mirror from the back so I could see the back of my hair was looking very weird, and the front looked even weirder. I panicked and stared at the mirror in horror, but you know, I know this guy has given me the best haircuts in the past, so I couldn’t really tell him “I hate it”. So I ran out of the chair and paid a bomb for that ugly mass of hair jutting out everywhere. Worse, when I was paying, this girl comes with a fabulous new haircut and swings her head about to show off her lovely steps and razors. She runs her fingers through her hair, throws it this way and that and smiles at me. And actually says, “Hey there…nice haircut.” Yeah sure, bitch !!

And worst, people like N who never notice my haircuts otherwise came and told me that I look ridiculous with the new cut. And that the shorter hair makes me look like a man. Right now it is a fright wig with hideous short bangs that do not go anywhere. So every time I go out I spend a full half hour trying to fix the blunder. Aargh! I am incensed.

And I had already made this appointment with a friend’s hair-spa girlfriend for highlights. So I am about to get highlights for the first time in my life (no one tell my mom that, she loves how black my hair is) on hair that looks hideous. I can’t call her up to cancel the appointment without sounding lame, and it is your guess as well as mine how I am going to look with highlights on hideous hair like this.

I hate that guy. But I might just give him another chance in some months to fix this blunder. Meanwhile, you guys are allowed to sympathize and make me feel nice.

Damn !!

Wow…

…I had no idea !! Thought the didactic tone and all the moral science lessons were uncalled for.

Why is it so difficult to let an adult choose whether or not he/she wants to retain a habit or let go?

Crib !!

People, I have a writers’ block the size of the Eastern Bloc (bad one, I know). So I am not going to write till I can write good stuff. I will watch romantic comedies instead. Or sleep.

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh !!

PS: Worse, I read a really bad blog now. It was all about intellectual snobbery and affected humour that was not quite funny. And my naarkol naaru experiment failed miserably. So you realize I am in a terrible mood, don’t you? So there.

Celebration

My blog visitor count touched 244 yesterday. So, thank you guys.

Cheers !!