1. Pink Panther is just all I need to make me laugh like a possessed person. For those of you who think that’s lame, you’re just stupid.
2. Yours truly, who abhorred the act of cooking for its more-often-than-not implied predecession of the readiness for/ possibility of the act of marriage, has now taken it upon her worthy shoulders to dissociate the two and cook for survival, for the want of a timepass and now makes amazing Pepper Chicken. The one that was born out of five different internet recipes – not for reasons of improvisation but for the OCDish need to know that curry leaves for not needed for the recipe, since they were nowhere to be found in the kitchen at the bewitching hour.
3. Why can women not be like men? Bonding over a beer, backslapping each other after a tiff, not reading between each other’s lines and too dumb to be throwing subtle hints of presumed superiority of the self. Case in point: The Soul of Alec Smart sweats it out in the gym regularly these days and has noticed how one woman will never fail to let the other know how her reading on the treadmill was better than anyone else’s or how she found an old, old pair of jeans yesterday and when she tried them on, they oh-my-god fit so well. What is with us women that we can just not loosen up and for once stop being competitors over trivial non-issues like “Uski dhulaai meri dhulaai se safed kaise?” Why are even the most chuddy buddy woman-woman relationships so flawed and dark at the center? BFFs fight over who’s boyfriend is cuter. Mothers and daughters try to get one up on each other. The prefix “in-law” makes the aforementioned relation even more childish .. of the kind of hushed-tone gossipping and kitchen eavesdropping. But the issue’s no laughing matter when it takes ridiculous proportions like rural Indian women being beaten up after being branded exorcists by jealous “padosans” or when a rape victim is ridiculed by grannies for having “not behaved”. I wonder what it would be like if women didn’t care much about “what she said and therefore what she would have meant and oh, what else she could have meant.”
4. The boyfriend has been a real sweetheart the last few days. Vacationing with family in a land far far away, he’s made it a point to message me the updates on what they’ve been doing and tell me amazing details about the places he visits. As shallow and bubblegummy romance as it might sound, I really like this sort of thing and it just always brightens my day. I miss him a lot, but a call at the end of the day makes things better.
5. I have no friends. There’s no wailing about on this. But yeah, it’s true. And it’s nobody’s “fault” – if you can call the fading away of friendships that. I thought about it yesterday. When in school, I had two close friends. Both very similiar, and in retrospect, nothing like me. I was the studious one, interested in books, ambitious, hanging on to mamma’s every word, liked by most teachers. The friends were the pretty girls, skinny, interested in boys, sports, short skirts for whom reading was a sissy thing. As we grew older, I joined the group the two friends were a part of. Mostly rowdy, controversial. You could say that I was the least notorious member of the most dreaded gang, and never really resented that status. I spent 12 years of school with these people, and needless to say, we promised each other that we’ll stick together. We went to different colleges, and met on a few weekends. We discussed our crushes and new friendships. And then, it started feeling like some obligatory custom to me to call on birthdays, to make movie plans or to listen to things that didn’t excite me at all. I am a selfish cold-hearted b&*ch, maybe. Soon after our weekend meetings became half-yearly reunions, the two eloped with their respective boyfriends – one went on to marry the guy while in hiding, and the other came back in hope of convincing the parents and eventually was married off to some other guy. Very filmy, and makes people wonder what school I was in. I feel rather sad about that. Anyway, the two are happily married now, and it’s no secret that I did not get invited to either wedding. I have never spoken to the one who got married to “some other” guy, primarily because her family made sure none of her friends from school and college had any access to her. The other friend met me on gtalk a couple of times, and the conversation turned rather formal, unnatural. I think she must have been pissed at the way I interacted. Meanwhile, I had two great friends in college. I thought I got along better with them, and that we had more things to talk about. We had a great time studying together, sometimes bunking lectures, going for movies, travelling on buses together all three years of college. I remember the time very fondly. However, soon enough, I had joined work and the two friends had decided to go in for the Masters program together. I engrossed myself in work, in CAT preparations and it was just logistically easier to hang out with colleagues if you were working 60 hours a week followed by weekend classes. We remained in touch, telling each other the major developments in our lives every few weeks. Atleast till 2 years back. Yesterday, I found out that one of them got married a couple of months back. That I hadn’t the slightest clue, hurt. It shouldn’t have, but it did. My colleagues were great people – and I still catch up with them when I am in Delhi. But 2 years away from the city and out of the shared cubicles, we can’t be termed friends. I now have new friends from my B-school – I promise myself that they’re there for life and I’m there for them, that we have those nights of sharing fears and secrets to stand testimony to friendship, that reunions won’t be important to us because we won’t need them. But my heart says otherwise, and I wish it’s not true. Maybe something is wrong with me, maybe I’m all wrong. It hurts sometimes. Other times, it just makes me colder.
Wow, that was one weirdly draining post. I ‘d return later.