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.

…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 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?

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?

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.

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?

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.

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. 

…that I have chosen to take a break from blogging. Nothing gives me a reason or an idea to write, and nothing take away the feeling of being in the dumps. Things are suddenly not terribly nice. So I shall not write till I at least find some semblance of peace or at least something to write about. I don’t know, it could be a day or a week or a month. I don’t know how long it will be before I can get back to this blog again. On the surface, everything is fine. May be it has to do with my birthday coming up and making me aware of how much time I am losing every moment. May be it has to do the deception everywhere. May be it has to do with something I cannot put a finger on. Doesn’t matter, because I hope to find a way out of this soon.

Be good till then.

The festival of good over evil and all that completely flipped over in Goa. We had just been out for a night-long Narkasur rendezvous when we heard about the blast at Margao. You know, it is amazing how news travels. Before any TV channel got to know we were discussing the chances of another blast in Panjim and got back home to a night-long rendezvous with alcohol. Drank till nearly all of us passed out and then had some more. Happy Diwali to you too folks

And then woke up in time, pushed all the grogginess away and turned up for the Indiblogger’s meet 30 km away from home at Vasco. What a meet, guys. First you get invited to the first ever such meet in Goa, and then when you are there, no one turns up. There was no communication of the meet being cancelled or held elsewhere, so we waited for a good forty fucking minutes, got strange glares from people who thought of us as last night’s bike bursting culprits and then got lost in Vasco. I mean, if this is the commitment the organizer of the meet and a group like Indiblogger shows, I am happy being on my own. So much for getting to know other bloggers in Goa.

So there, no photos, no big news (except the blast perhaps), no excitement and no Diwali firecrackers around. Verdict: if the alcohol wasn’t there last night, this Diwali would be the biggest dud ever. Really.