I am very happy these days or so they say. Yes I laugh the loudest,
play pranks, indulge in leg pulling … infact I have been doing
anything and everything that is energetic, that is zinda dil ! It is
as if Retinitis Pigmentosa never happened . Only a few understand what is going on. I am
in denial: I am trying to assert my defiance through my actions. But
for how long can this last? Can any reality be shut out by merely
trying to put it out of one’s mind? How was it going to be …when…I…finally…

That day in my room, alone, I decided to confront my fears head on. I
shut my eyes and tried to feel my way around (not that I needed much
effort). The room was familiar and so it wasn’t tough to do so. I
encountered my first setback when I tried to co ordinate my fine
movements in an attempt to find things and identify them on my table.
(Then and there, I had to put a mental reminder to myself: I have to
be more organised from now on). I could hear something rolling down
the table to the ground, with a clang. I swore hard as I pricked my
finger on something sharp. I fumbled and groped in my artificial darkness. But finally defeated, I sat down. Was this my future? Cold fear replaced the anger and helplessness and tears almost
threatened to spill over, but I bit my lip hard.

ENOUGH! I. AM. NOT. GOING. TO. CRY.
My eyes were still shut. I groped for my i pod and plugged in.

The music was soothing, Each and every note, Distinct and clear. I
didn’t need to feel and fumble around for it. I didn’t need the light
of my vision to drown myself into its melody and soulful words.
Suddenly on an impulse, I reached for my deodorant. I couldn’t find
it, but found a jar of cream instead. I applied a little to my hands
and inhaled. It smelled good. I inhaled some more. My eyes were still
shut. I had vowed to keep them shut for an hour and I wasn’t giving up
I sat back relaxed in the comfort of my bean bag. From somewhere the aroma of sauted garlic wafted in bringing a faint smile on my lips.The music and the lingering
scent on my hand were working upon me. For a moment something
happened. I don’t know if this is it exactly but I believe I felt a
sudden surge of calmness. Yes, something peaceful, tranquil almost.
But it was so brief and so quickly over, I don’t know if I really felt
it or imagined I felt so…
Life will be hard when I lose my sight but life won’t be over. Yes…

When endless reminders started pouring in reminding me about my commitment to write something for Fried Eye, I shook off the cobwebs of my mind and replied back meekly to the editor as “ok ,but what do I write about?”  The reply came back in two words-Perfect Date. Well that acted as a kind of a catalyst and all the wheels, nut and bolts of my brains started up as if on cue trying to make up for those months of absence. Now FE has started this category called How To series and in a sudden brainstorm, I decided to write on How To Plan for The Perfect Date. The FE people were ok with it and I decided to go ahead with full vigor because though I am hopeless in many other matters, this is one thing I am highly qualified and experienced in. (or else how do I still explain my Miss and not Mrs status) Oh yes , this is something I totally agree with the Wise Bachelor my nemesis, as you really can’t argue with some universal truths and one of them is -Marriage Kills The Romance up to some extent. But why am I rambling? I know you all are getting impatient to get started. So then, I will try to keep the pointers as unisexual as possible but at places which need elaboration I will separate out the genders

Alright, if you are still with me up to this point and plan to continue reading then you are halfway done because as they say it’s the thought that counts. No matter how your date ends up as, one thing is sure that you can rest assured that your intentions were sincere and you tried your best.

Now that you have made up your mind to make the day/evening special (my recommendation is evening; it opens a whole lot of possibilities) for your loved one, lets get on to the technicalities and the first thing you have to decide on is Venue.

 Venue

Ideally a beach, seashore or the mountainside is the best for a lovey dovey romantic evenings, but if those are way beyond your means both financially and geographically lets explore other possibilities

One is a long drive with a picnic basket. The car or the bike offers you boundless freedom of choice and also the coveted privacy and intimacy. You can just drive on aimlessly through the highway with the music in the back ground, wind on your face, holding hands wishing if only you could go on and on and on… A little bit of rain will enhance the atmosphere further more. You can listen to your love speaking endlessly about little things which might seem like music to your ears or as an alternative, let the silence speak those words which you wanted to. Your glance and smile will tell him/her everything you wanted to.

If car or bike too is beyond your reach (which is quite understandable with the rising petrol prices ) you can go for the terrace of your building if it is a high rise and if the other occupants don’t raise too many awkward questions. Remember Imran Hashmi and Mallika Sherawat in Murder and again Imran Hashmi and Kangna in Gangster? The heights provide you with a sense of being on cloud nine and the top of the world feeling add to it the breeze , gives a  sense of exhilarating freedom.

As I said earlier terrace can be a difficult option with nosey neighbors and in such case the best option would be to entertain him/her at your place or at your friend’s bachelor pad if your own place isn’t possible. (but for that either you have to have a very loyal friend or an opportunistic one to extract a fee but  I am sure either ways you can manage it)

Then of course there are the regular options like the discotheque, movie hall, water park if you have no issues of sharing your private moments with hundred other people but of course regular is not special. And if it aint special then it isn’t perfect.

Now that you have fixed the venue next would be the ambience.

Ambience

If you were so resourceful as to manage the beach or mountainside then I am sure everything is possible for you.  Come on, go ahead, set a table, bring out the aromatic candles, the mattress , flowers, spread some satin sheets, put some cushions (no balloons please) bring out the crystal glasses, the crockery everything or at least similar to them , set them beautifully. Visual stimulation is as necessary as your sincere intentions to make everything perfect. This can be possible even at the terrace or your own place or the bachelor’s pad. You don’t even need bulky furniture either. If there are no proper dining tables then you can always go for one low table or a mat near your mattress arrangement and dine in sheer luxury like an Arab Sheikh. Just keep in mind that candles sometimes attract insects and can be a problem if you are in the open air. At such cases just set the candles or lighting a bit far off in the back ground.

Second thing that you have to keep in mind is the color of your spreads and sheets. I mean sometimes girls do tend to go over board with pink and guys with their fixation for white and blue. Why don’t you go for bold ones like Red or in bold black and white prints? It gives an impression of power and passion. Romance is fine but intensity? We can’t ignore the need for intensity, can we? As for flowers you can go for a single rose in a sleek vase or a bouquet of roses; no other options work better.

As for those who are in their cars, you don’t actually need an ambience. Nature does that for you. Just ensure some great music to go along with it.

But be careful of one thing- There shouldn’t be any stench in the atmosphere- no lingering cigarette smoke, no smell of unwashed sweaty clothes. The room or the air must be clean and dry .

That brings to music.

Music

Music is an integral part of romance as can be seen by Bollywood numbers and even other wise. The combination of verses along with soulful melody can turn the hardest of heart into mush. Hence be very careful if you want to impress your love. It can make your date or break it either if one wrong step is taken. Music is also a great subject for bonding. Unless and until you both are literally soul mates you can’t be callous in your selections. It’s safe to play his/ her choices if you know it, but the best option and one that also forwards your purpose of the whole thing is to go for some soft numbers which have words that you would like to say to him/her and convey your feelings. (But again as I said don’t overdo the mush and no cheap music). Like there was this date of mine, who put on the song, “You are always a woman to me” by Billy Joel the moment I entered into the date area, looking deep into my eyes. Till date I haven’t been able to forget him.

To play safe you can go for the golden oldies- Sinatra, even Sir Elton John or even Rafi, Kishore, Lata and Talat Mehmood. You can go for ghazals or if you want to play too-too safe then you can go for instrumentals.  But the usb/cd compilation should be ready on play mode without you trying to grope for the right CD among your piles of collections. Same goes for the music in the car. There are some great Car- romantic numbers from Bollywood like Tum Jo mil gaye ho from Hanste Zakhm still gives me the shivers. Or the cute one by Kishore Kumar- churi yeh nahin ye mera , from the DevAnand starrer Gambler. However if you want a vibrant fun evening, after a couple of soft ones, you can proceed on to the popular numbers and dance and laugh away the evening in each others company. Romance isn’t always about mush. Laughing and enjoying like a kid in each others company is also another variant of romance.

Fun! yes fun brings me to the the next technicality – activity.

Activity

Some of you maybe comfortable with whispering sweet nothings to your loved ones or sharing your innermost heartfelt secrets and feelings, talking the night away beneath the starry sky but what about the others who are shy or not much into talking? Well you can enjoy a flick together. Action movies, chick flick, high voltage emotional dramas are to be avoided unless and until you both have the same tastes. However for the bold ones I would like to suggest that horror movies (not much scary ones) are fine to get you both cosy together. You can go for rom coms but mind you not much mush again. Ask your friends for opinion or there is IMDB  the God of the movie databases. My favorite till date  are Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikander, Roman holiday and Ghost.

But again if movie is too constraining and you would like some fun outdoors instead, then yes, you can go for a drive after dinner, or a walk together .If you can strum a guitar how about belting out some tunes for him/her or crooning some numbers in a karaoke or even just like that?  Games? Well diplomatically unsafe. Strict no-no are facebooking or net surfing. Don’t even think of it when you are with her/him.  If salsa or jazz is your thing or even anything that is close to them, you can lead him/her for a dance together. Trust me, after that you won’t be remembering any other activity.

Now let’s proceed on to food which is an integral part of any date, be it a business luncheon or a cocktail party or The Perfect Date.

Food

If you can cook even little bit decently, then just prepare a simple meal for him/ her. Your love will be impressed unless you have burnt it of course. Cuts a lot of extra charges and even I for that matter, any day would love to cook a grand meal for my man.. Other wise you can order a take away or there is the savior called Pizza and Pasta or even Chinese. If you are non vegetarian, then go for boneless variety. I mean chewing and tearing at a bone gives a very disgusting picture. Try hard for the food to be non messy. You wouldn’t like it if your food makes you or your date messy and unsavory later on. Will you? Nor would you like it if you end up all bloated up with a heavy meal or even scowl throughout in starvation. So the amount should be just right and perfect.

Food, music, ambience and venue have been cleared up I guess, but we have not yet dealt with the most important one. A gift! Of course the date itself is a gift but still a memento is the best way to keep it registered as a memory. If sky is the limit for you then I guess you wouldn’t be needing any advice from me, but for the less fortunate ones, I would suggest roses, perfumes (not deodorants) Swiss chocolates, sterling silver pendants, a dress ( not that pricey on your pocket) lingerie- if you are in that level with her (to the guys). For the girls- safest would be Perfumes, CDs . Gadgets and if a book lover, than books.

Well that almost takes care of everything. Wait! There is another thing- Your attire. Well wear which compliments you the best and something that is comfortable. As for me I would love to wear a flowy long skirt with an off shoulder fitted top and what would I like him to wear? Loose six pocket trousers with a boat necked loose full sleeved tee shirt, but again this is your date, not mine.

So I hope I could help you plan your date to an extent. You can add your own original signature style to the plans to make your perfect, unique date. Again these ideas are not hard or fast rules on dating. It’s his/ her happiness that should matter in the choices. If your date would love to be in a rock concert or a stadium watching cricket, then make his/her day. Grant it to him/her. At the end of the day when you will see his/her smile contentedly, it will make all the troubles that you had undergone, worth everything. In the end I would like to just tell you one last thing. Ahem! Irrespective of everything,. practice safe sex and secondly respect each other’s private space and learn to hear a no. Got it? Okk Then. Have a nice time and my best very best wishes. Until next time., Hasta La vista !

The other day, I happened to over hear a conversation in my office about relationships , soul mates and perfect partners. Though I just remained a mute spectator or rather a mute observer, I still could not help wonder later, who among the choices I had ,would qualify to be my perfect mate ? (platonic or otherwise) or what are the expectations and qualities that I would desire in my soul mate if I put aside the, social standing, future security and money matters associated with it and concentrate only on the emotional quotient.

Love and Loyalty I guess will come as the foremost requirement. In fact a sort of blind love will be just right. He or she has to like and accept me the way I am no matter how unlikely that may seem. I may romp around in a sweaty one day old pajamas and t shirt and messed up hair and still be as attractive to him or her anyday.

Another quality that I would undoubtedly desire is that he/she should be a patient and sympathetic listener.I must be able to crib, crib and crib about anything under the sun till eternity , and still not hear a word or even a look of irritation from him/ her.

I would love to consider myself as his/ her greatest critic ( I have the right to, don’t I love him/her ?) but on a different noteI would very much appreciate if he/she is not judgmental about me.

I must be able to confide in him/her my deepest darkest secrets without the fear of them seeing the daylights any day.

I should have the right to shut him/her out of my life whenever I am in need of my private space and still have him/her back in my arms the moment my ‘space’ starts closing in on me.

Sounds tyrannical, isn’t it? More like a monopoly rather than a love relationship . Of course I will be gracious enough to profess undying love if the above conditions are met and I would only be too happy to show my love now and then. Now wouldn’t such an arrangement, if possible, be a bliss and long lasting? Such a mate who sounds Utopian to be real, if present in this universe, won’t it be delight to have him/her? Impossible, you must be thinking. Who would agree to such a dictatorship even if blind in love and adoration. But you see, I do have this perfect mate/ friend no matter how unbelievable it may sound and she is none other than my pet, my German Spitz – Timmy. Obviously such a relationship with a human isn’t possible. Such a one person -monopoly relationship would be possible only with a loyal four legged being. . And I feel lucky to have her to light up my dark days. Loving, loyal, innocently playful- she is the perfect foil to my volatile self. She never fails me and is always there for me in an unobtrusive way. A total darling, A bitch but not bitchy…

A perfect arrangement-But to my surprise, I do miss the imperfections often. How much I would love to hear a retort at times! A little bit of harmless lies,sweet tiffs and quarrels. The sulking ,the tears! The reproach, the possessiveness. The criticism, the insecurities. All the follies of humans, that in a twisted way make a man or woman more attractive and the relationship dynamic and wholesome!

Don’t they say, a perfect relationship isn’t about two perfect human beings or about the perfect behaviour between two persons,,rather its when you start loving and living happily with the imperfections of it all.

Dear Diary,

Ah, well! The summer’s already started to make its way over this side of the earth. I am done with the never ending numbers of warm clothing, blankets and shawls. I can happily fold them up and stash them somewhere down in the cupboard and fish out my summer wear instead. However, along with the onset of the summer, the frequent, irritating power cut-outs have started as well. Only a little while ago, after coming back from a tiring day at work, I had just only settled myself in front of the television to watch an action-packed cricket match. I had caught just a little glimpse of the hunk Yuvraj Singh and was about to let out a cheer when “Poof” went the lights!!! And I had no choice but to drag myself to the kitchen, light a candle and get settled at my study desk instead with a mug of coffee.

As I took my first sip of coffee, something on the mug caught my eyes. I and my female colleagues were each gifted a mug like this a couple of days back on the occasion of International Women’s Day. Well, that was their way of showing us that they remembered we are women, after all. To think of it, all throughout the year the boss never acknowledged the women folk for their work or their efforts. As a matter of fact, who actually cared? This whole hype about celebrating women’s day, paying tribute to the women etc. etc… How much of it do actually matter? When the entire world was observing “International Women’s Day”, a young girl of 22 of a reputed university gets shot down right in front of her college in full view of the on looking public. This is what Women’s Day is about, right? (Sigh!)

And when a woman is not literally shot down, she is physically and emotionally drained out all the same. A look at the piled up dirty dishes in the sink – to be done by mother or me and a recollection of the ever piling files on my office desk make me mentally groan. And that’s just one kind of piled up work a woman faces daily.

Well, that’s the life of a woman, Dear Diary. We have to live through it all the way it is. This also reminds me that I have to get geared up for the Holi as well. Ummm, not because I am scared. But I hate getting smeared on by colored water balloons that appear out of the blue at the weirdest moments. Just today when I was leaving office during lunch hour with my good friend Mr. *****, what I feared exactly happened. Yes, I was hit by a water balloon. Splash! And damn! I could not even locate the culprit. All my good friend did was have a good laugh at the whole thing. Not that he did not offer me a lift to my place for a quick change. It’s a different matter that I declined his offer and stubbornly went back to office refusing to change into clean clothes or to have lunch. Of course my colleague only saw it as good fun. Oh! Why couldn’t those urchins throw that balloon at him instead? But of course, he was not the W.O.M.A.N…

What else can I say Dear Diary? These things have become a part of life by now. I hope, some day, the tables will be turned. I don’t know when, but some day it will happen. Well, for now, I am going out to get some shopping done. I need to buy a new set of wardrobe and yes, a packet of balloons, and some good, lasting colours (*wink*). They complain about our shopping splurges, those men who fill our lives. But I tell you, nothing better than retail therapy when one is most grumpy. After all, why should boys have all the fun?

See you around.
Signing off,

Miss Cellany… 

Dear Diary,
I have not been keeping very well these days. I wouldn’t say I had a very bad “1st week of the new year” but then, it was no different from any other week for me, other than the fact that I got to attend a “New- Year-party-cum-birthday-party” on the very first day of the year. It was the first week of my new job, in the new office, with new friends (colleagues, actually) and the same old environment, surrounded by people whom I don’t know, but will have to get along with to survive. It was nice to get invited to the party thrown by a fellow-worker. Not that she had any choice, though. I know, she would have left me out if she had the choice to. Sigh! I tried, dear Diary, I really did. I tried to be friendly with my new colleagues, tried to talk to them, tried to know them but they were simply not interested. Probably, it will take me some more time to make them realize that I can be one of them too. What am I saying? One of them? I think I am better off sharing my feelings with you alone, rather than talking to heartless beings like them.
Well, you might say that I am sulking, or that I am complaining. I am not, actually. I am only trying to comprehend the reality that I have been dropped into, trying my best to figure out what I am supposed to do with my life, trying to discover the mission that’s meant for me to accomplish. And so far, I have no idea. I don’t wish to sound like a depressive, but the new place has failed to lift up my spirits. This was not something I had wanted. However, I have no option but to live with it till I find a better opportunity. And till then, all I need to have is a little patience and a lot of endurance.
My mom was the only one I heard from during the week, other than my new boss, of course. She was thoughtful enough to guess that I would not be taking care of myself when I am depressed, and sent me some stuff from home that made me feel a little better. Chocolate cake, and soft, delicious gulab jamuns made by her can take anyone to an utterly blissful state of mind. And a phone call from my new boss can take you back to the same state of depression. That’s the reality for now. I don’t know how I am going to fit myself in this new environment, but a way I am going to find out for sure. And I promise to be happy the next time I write. Till then, signing off-
Miss Cellany

P.S- It’s freezing over here. I’m shivering. I cannot type anymore.

Dear Diary,

It has been a long time. Really! What a year it has been. I can’t believe it’s finally over. It has been a long year; and a tough one too. But I am not complaining. I am happy that I faced it all with a smile on my face. Well, that’s life, isn’t it? Amidst the cries of agony, despair and gloom, underneath the same blue sky, we all find a reason to smile. No matter how dark it is, there is always a light inside our heart. And the key is to never let that light die.

In the bygone year, there were times when I broke down completely, gave up the hopes of seeing a happy day, or even stopped smiling. But what I learned was that no matter what or who made me cry, there was always someone, at the end of the day, who would without fail make me smile. Sometimes, that someone came in the form of a loved one, a dear friend or maybe some random person. But most of the times, I noticed that, it was myself. If nobody else made me smile, I had to do it myself. And it worked. It really did.

2010 was a bag of mixed emotions for me. Death of a dear one, losing my love, losing my job, finding a new friend, finding a better job, family get togethers, learning to cook Thai food from my best friend, going on a holiday absolutely alone, falling in love with a total stranger, owning a pet dog, losing my A.T.M card (and finding it back again) – everything; I mean, everything has happened this year. Not to mention, the near escape from a bomb blast, or the time I got stuck in a lift with two unknown, unfriendly old ladies who made those two hours hell for me, or spending an entire month of vacations with dear Mom, back home, that is to say. I have been through every emotion, every feeling this blessed year.

And now, Dear Diary, as I find myself standing on the threshold of a new year, I feel, I am ready to take anything on. One very important thing I have learned is that everything is in constant flux. And the question is whether we accept change passively and get swept away by it or whether we are to take the lead and create positive changes on our own initiative. I hope I have faith that the New Year is going to be joyful and full of changes. And I want to live it just like I’ve lived through the last. We need to celebrate- because it is a new beginning…And just because, it is LIFE…

I will catch up with you again in a few days time. Let me just get settled in my new job

Till then, signing off

Miss Cellany.

Dear Diary,

Don’t know about marraiges, but friends are made in heaven. And therefore, God sent. Scribbled down on a peace of parchment (that elaborately lists out all the intricate happenings of our life) are their names under the heading of trouble, fun, glory and pain.

Sticking religiously to the theme of the sitcom F.R.I.E.N.D.S, my friends have always been there for me. Always. Even if it meant them waking up all night to finish my work while i lazily wake up and snatch the brilliant report and leave in a hurry, or inform me that my birthday is close, make a list of things i need to shop for, or me assuming them as the closest ATM.

So we chose a day to celebrate the spectacularity of this relationship called friendship. To weigh the magnanimity of the emotions this relationship holds. To give justice to the one thing that made us all bond. We chose the Halloween’s day. And quite different it was from the other days, for obvious reasons.

You see, exactly at 12:48, after each one was awoken – who kept falling back on the bed again because they’d rather wake up when everyone else does – i got a call. And was being sung in an uncharecteristically synchronous din, “Happy Halloween’s Day to you…, and would be friends even when we are ghosts, me and you….”

How would I be without my friends… I cannot even dream it.

I love you guys. MUAHHHHH….

Signing off.
Me.

Dear diary,

I was born in this world with no apparent purpose etched anywhere across my body, flowing in my breath, or sparkling in my eyes. Yet with time, I grew to become wretched with prejudices, immune to wonders, invincible with desires, and obstinate in making them true.

Life had its own game rules – it always threw choices. And I had to chose, not worrying about the choice I had not taken, the course it promised, and the consequences of the choice I made of my own. It would start (as a toddler) with wanting to touch the transparent barricade of that bespectacled uncle, immediately torn mid-way between wrenching off those big round glasses or grabbing that weird looking nose. Attempting to do both, I would end up thumping the nose hard, squashing the uncle’s nose and making the glasses askew simultaneously. I would leave the choice to him – whether to reel in pain, or set his glasses straight to avoid them crashing down. He would instead tilt his head back, heroicly balance his specs across his nose, and say, “Oh! Such a naughty girl!” – resisting all choices I gave him, and coming up with his own.

Choice. That’s what life was all about. So what would I do with my life? Make choices, of course. But I was also selfish. So I made choices that spoke of *my* desires, made ME happy, and I got away with them as a kid. Chocolate, ice cream, chocolate icecream, barbie doll house, pacman, TV set, Pepe and Live-in, Photography, parties, cell phone, chat rooms, silliness, giggles, crushes, dates, teasing, pocket money, my own room, my own computer, privacy, secrets, best friends, whatever. Anything and everything I did had a me associated with it – my desire, and hence my choice.

I tried to take this into adulthood too. Chose a career that I like – ambition and dreams I could cherish and mould to have higher stakes, make a bigger impact in the society. I was being responsible towards life, wasn’t I.

But that’s not enough. Times change as a young adult, the world is not so gentle in giving-in anymore. I have responsibilities now, and I need a job too to fulfill those responsibilities. And it turns out that the job was only to fulfill those responsibilities. I failed to give in – giving up my current job i.e. If I dedicate half of my adult life to my parents and their responsibilites, other half of my life to my kids and responsibilites, where do I come in? I thought. Didn’t me, this person born on April 1st, have a right to live for its own sake? Like it takes its own breath for its survival, its own heart to live, its own brain to grow. Why can’t this me have its own desires it can chase, and be happy chasing them?

But no. Just like society would shriek “April 1st?!! You’re a fool! Ha ha ha,” it will pretty much ha ha the same way over jobs that are “meagre” because of its own logic. In between all this would come responsibilities, because meagre jobs are enough to satisfy only personal greed but not general welfare.

Wars would be fought. Phase 1, phase 2, and the battles would go on furthermore. I do not want to “give up my future”, I would say. We are a part of your future too, they would say. They being parents. I wouldn’t relent, they would remain adamant, nobody was going anywhere. Slowly now, I began to feel I was being more selfish than was tolerable. I began to understand in the mad desire to hold my future I was not willing to be people’s ray of hope, losing myself and my greater purpose of humanity along the way.

So today, I choose to let go of this me. Give myself up to the world. Take care of them. Be what they want me to be. Gag my heart’s cry. Do I hear sarcasm and hidden grief? Maybe for now, maybe not later. Will it affect me in the long run? I believe in myself so much that wherever I am, I will choose the way I like to live, so in all probability pounce back to where I want to be from anywhere. For now, let me take this step – change my job to a better paid one (a one well-respected by the society at that), quit my heart’s desire, just to let everyone around me live in peace. For a while. And when they’re not worried about me or themselves anymore (or slightly lesser than what they’re now), I will be back in the hunt.

Am I the only one being an idiot here? Was this done in the history? Of course it was. “Kabhi kabhi kuch jeetne ke liye kuch harna bhi padta hai. Aur har kar jeetne walon ko Baazigar kehte hain”

So there. Let’s get ready to rhumble. And quit the grumble.

Signing off,
Me.

Dear Diary,

There was something darker and mistier than the chilly nights throughout last week. It was something more than the late night dew – a whisper of wind carried from the distant land I had just left and loved. Or I hoped it was.

Quitting the job wasn’t easy, but was essential. It was time to move on and life had firmly made the decision. Moved out of town to a new place, and make a fresh start. To carry the wealth of gifts, memories and advices was optional, and I did so with all my willingness.

The last one week was terrible, I just could NOT make sense of what Chirstopher Nolan wanted to say inspite of hours contemplating, going upto page 10 of “Inception” Google search results, and following the hashtag on Twitter for days. If I ain’t getting it the first time I see it, it ain’t worth it. That includes re-reading the Wikipedia entry 17 times. “Dream on, fan boys. Just don’t get anywhere near me,” I wrote on Reddit.

But it was suddenly disturbing, the memories I mean. Reddit is always disturbing, and Inception & the whole “memories” talk was anything but disturbing. But here I was confused than never before as the past kept coming back to me, the pain intesifying where it began, leaving me as a goodwill deprived lifeless mound of flesh. Unbathed, I might add.

As I sat down staring at the bare screen of my desktop, everything else seemed empty too. I was not used to my laptop screen empty. Off yes, empty no. Tears swelled my eyes. They turned dark and misty. I finally understood what was troubling me. I was missing who I was.

I switched the computer off and staring at my reflection on the screen, I sized myself up. I was a loner, always trying to expand my “uncomfortable zone.” Taking up challenges and winning them gave me adreline, a further push in believing the purpose of life. For all I knew about me, I hunted down troubles and vowed to beat them. It was my decision to move out – take up bigger responsibilities, see greater success from nothing.

“And if anything, I’m going to make it as beautiful and worthwhile of crying when leaving, just like the last one!” I told myself as I slammed the lid of the laptop shut.

The tears now represented the dew on the leaves at dawn, the mist of the fog. It was a new dawn.

Ahh! The end is always there.. and there is a new beginning.
Phoenix rises from its ashes, a new born thing.
The sun rises too, just after the dark dawn.
This is life my friend, a new day has come.

A new day has come. Its time to say good-bye to who I was. It was time to grow from a hedonist into a matured, calculated, strong-minded and an abstinent individual. In short, an aunty. Yes, a new day has come.

Aha! A dose of absolute self-praise (with no retort to remind) always works. So this is called internal motivation. I feel so much better now.

Signing off,
Me

Dear diary,
For long I have always wondered about criticism – its general and non-discreet availability from those who cannot tell between salt and pepper. About why if there was a girl in the house it is expected that she cooks AND has the natural inclination to do so. About Paris Hilton & Lindsay Lohan – one HAS to be in public to earn her daily bread, one cannot earn her daily bread because she’s too public.

But the most irksome of mankind’s traits I noticed quite prevalent is the profound, even justified, arrogance over one’s good fortune. Man is gravely ungrateful at his supposed good fortune, and is filled with a sense of superiority over those dissimilar to him, even in his own species:

“Hey your skin color is black, while I’m white! You will now be my slave – do everything I ask you to do without further questioning, even if it means selling your child. And you being treated like a fellow human shall henceforth be unlawful!”

“Look here donkey/camel/horse/ox/dog in the polar region, I will make you carry heavy loads (heaviest of them being my own ass) and keep spanking you until you die or we reach the destination. And when you die, I’ll console myself by calling you ’just a brute’.”

Looking through a friend’s Facebook profile earlier in the week, I saw a picture with three people wearing dark glasses getting a stream of “3 idiotts or 3 andhe… ha ha ha” one-liners. Resentment grew. Hatred brewed. I failed to comprehend why a person wearing dark glasses HAS to be associated with blindness and is deemed an insult. How does one not being able to see make the other person superior? Because (s)he can operate the computer better (Oh really!?), look better (Beauty. Is in the eye of the intelligent beholder)?

Anyway, FYI, all things in this world were designed in a way as to fulfil everyone’s needs in general. If all engineering happened with the visually impaired in perspective, nobody would know what hit them. Truly RP (Retintis Pigmentosa) style. And this logic would apply to every other inability a person could have, not just blindness.

But, but, but… I have to be honest. I’m only having these thoughts because I’ve been personally affected. I would otherwise have been completely oblivious to crushing the life out of someone less fortunate than I am – just like I stepped on that insect because I was too lazy to shift my foot five inches to the side.

Well, now I know. And I’m keeping away from wrongful pride at my good fortune. Yes sir. I’m not going to undermine anyone anytime for being mentally retarded, blind, deaf, mute, lame, tall-fat, short-fat, tall-thin, short-thin, fair, dark, rich, poor, ugly, in same ‘gotra’, hates pani-puri or any of its combinations, including those unsuspected and hence not listed. No sir.

It’s one of those I appreciate about RP. It makes me more humble. A better human.

Signing off,
Me

Dear Diary,

Something so amazing happened the other day that I’m just dying to tell it to you. That day, these two people… you know Nisha and Rohan, who are about to get married in a few weeks’ time? Yeah, they were bickering so much, it got to my nerves. And can you guess what they were fighting about? The theme of the wedding for God’s sake! Nisha, who’s been recently back from a tour to Dubai wants an Arabic-theme for the wedding, complete with belly dancers and all, and Rohan’s like, no way, we’re having a Rajasthani-theme wedding. All tie and dye stuff, nice hanging lanterns and lamp shades with mirror-work and stuff. And so it went on the whole damn day. Till I had to actually yell at them to give me some peace.

To make things worse, while on my way back home, I just happened to get on the most crammed bus on that route. Oh, the sweat and smell and stale cigarette stench! Add on top of that this shabbily dressed girl who was standing next to where I was sitting, leaning all her weight on my shoulders. I gave her “that” look of mine twice, but she didn’t even bulge! Fuming, I turned to look at her the third time, only to notice in disgust this time that a guy had his arms around her neck so tight I thought she would choke. Heights of indecency, I muttered, but I doubt it even reached their ears. I forced myself to look the other way, but I was so furious I wanted to do something, say something.

And then I felt it. The first drop on my arm while I held on to the seat in front of me for support. At first I couldn’t understand what it was, until the drops kept pouring and making my arm wet. When I looked up, I saw the girl weeping. Ugly tears ran down her cheeks straight onto my arms, the girl oblivious, while the guy seemed to be consoling her. Another tiff, I thought and wondered if it was something drifting in the air that day. I seem to have been surrounded by sulky lovers.

But then I overheard their conversation. Don’t go all moral on me, okay? It wasn’t like I intended to. I just happened to hear parts of it. And well, parts of it I didn’t understand so obviously I had to listen harder. It seemed he was trying to convince her that she hadn’t done anything wrong. That everything will be alright. My mind went into a frenzy imagining what could it be that she had done, and inspite of not knowing what it was, the feminist in me wanted to blame only the guy. The girl looked so pathetic, I tell you. Then the guy took out his phone and I heard exactly this,

“Didi, please don’t worry. She’s with me. And we are sorry for what we did but I had to. (a pause) Yes, yes, Ma must be furious. I know, I know… (pause again) But what’s done cannot be undone, right Didi? Now we just need your blessings. (a long pause, followed by a long sigh) But you will explain it to Ma, won’t you Didi? My family’s waiting for her with open arms. My Ma is so happy. She will be happy. I will keep her happy Didi…..”

And so it continued. By then I had heard enough to understand that I should leave them be. Imagine, those dimwits Nisha and Rohan were fighting over the theme of their wedding, and here I was witnessing the beginning of a family, a new life, even as these lovers were eloping in a crammed public bus. Aah, life, and its many flavors. Wonder if I’ll ever be able to get the hang of it. Food for thought, isn’t it?

Dear Diary,

I worked hard, and demanded a pay raise. I was told to work my ass off for another couple of months and I could then have a Volkswagen Polo. I wanted a pay rise, they wanted work. I negotiated. Not entirely what I wanted, but what the hell. A Volkswagen is after all a Volkswagen. Plus a chauffeur. Could I ask for more? For now, not yet.

Soon, I found out that Dad had bought the brother a Nokia 6790 (as soon as it was launched, mind you!) as a “belated birthday gift.” The dorky bro probably earned what it costs in a day or two. Yet, when it was time for my “early birthday gift”, I had to negotiate. All to watch Dad present me a Nokia phone himself.

In fact, everyday the bargaining builds its pace with vigour – starting with the auto wallah who says “paanch rupayi mein kya hai madam!”, the sabzi waali’s declaration that eventually sets the menu of the week, “Sirf aalo aur tamatar hai!” And deal with the agony kaam waali’s “O Memsaab! Kal hum nahi ayenga!” will bring.

Hell, I even bargained with the cook last evening. She wanted to make Aalo ka Paratha (butter spread) with Malai Kurma & hot yogurt. I wanted Aalo ka Paratha (butter spread) with Bagara Baingan & hot yogurt. And so I orchestrated my talent at the celebrated art of bargaining with a lovely lady I pay to cook me food that I would eat in my own house. A lady who, by the way, also had an equal panache at the skill they call bargaining. By the end of it, I was having Dum ki Biryani with Mirchi Ka Salan. It was either her way, my way, or neither of ours – but no common ground.

Chewing the food though, it was at a moment like this that I couldn’t fail to remember Ankit’s famous unbelievable-in-21st-century quote, “If I don’t bargain, I feel cheated.” “What about places where you can’t bargain? Like the hypermarket we’re at the moment, for example?” I asked him out of intense curiosity once. “Well, I bargain wherever & at every possible opportunity I can.” he replied. “I can’t do that.” I thought. “You quote a price. I pay. End of mess. No beginning of it.” I had decided a long time ago. Or so I thought.

At a closer look though, that’s exactly what life taught me. That I had to bargain at every possible opportunity I could. You see, I had to fight for what I wanted, and in the process I had to compromise to certain demands made on me. What the heck, I even had to compromise on my laziness & run back and forth into the kitchen to feed my growling tummy ever so often. To survive, I had to bargain.

So! I learnt today that life enjoys & prefers the give-and-take relationship. It is all but a business. A wonderful one at that. The stakes maybe high, the stakes maybe low – depending upon one’s interest & (eventually) desperation. Life, my friend, is a negotiation.

PS: Further inference shall be drawn after further experimentation. Err.. I mean observation.

For now, signing off.
Me.

Dear Dairy,

The year has got off on a great start for me at the work-front. Well not exactly “work” front but thereabouts. Remember I mentioned a new entry into our office last year? The one I was attracted to? Last week, we got introduced. His name is Dhairya. He is Okay look wise, I guess. There’s got to be some advantage of not being able to see things for what they are, literally. Despite my hopeless attraction, I don’t think I can really call him “Good Looking”. Now that we have met and conversed, I still don’t know what makes him so interesting to me. He told me that he never saw me in the office. Either he is lying or he considers me worthless. The veracity of both reasons is equally likely but for obvious reasons I would like to believe the former more.

You know what, he is always surrounded by girls. I wonder how he manages that. He seems to have mastered the art of dignified flirting- if such a thing is ever possible. The ladies are not exactly crazy for him, but he definitely makes other men jealous. And don’t even ask me why, but he’s got that “something” which made me agree to go out for a cup of tea with him within 10 minutes of our conversation! Can you beat that? Of course that raised quite a few eyebrows as he generally doesn’t ask anyone for date at the drop of a hat, at least in public knowledge. And well, you should have seen the look on my face when he asked me. My heart must have done a couple of flip-flops, and I must have gulped like a dozen times before saying yes. Made me feel so good about myself, really.

You know what Diary? Dhairya has such an attractive smile. And more so his laughter. The first thing I noticed about him was how laughter comes so easily to him. And by the way, he is not like his public image at all. He comes across as a chap with a restless inquisitive mind under that stable and steadfast head. And he knows so many things….! I must say a guy whose aura doesn’t evaporate the moment he opens his mouth is a really rare find. Besides he has a special interest in Hindu Mythology. Imagine that! A smart young man of today keeping himself abreast of traditional knowledge! I found myself thinking how Ma will like him very much. We also belong to the same caste. Could things fall in place any more? I don’t know if it’s too soon to even think in those lines. After all, a date is all we’ve shared till now. And yet, I am almost tempted to give it a try. To maybe see where this goes…..

Since that day, I have noticed that he comes to our room every day with some excuse or the other. Often we both start walking towards each other but, something stops us. Suddenly, we change paths and distract ourselves with something else. It is a very funny situation. Not like we haven’t made small talk occasionally. We both pretend to be mere colleagues but I guess everybody knows about the mutually exchanging vibes.

But, hey, just because am mentioning him here doesn’t mean I am “in love”, okay? For all I know it could be a passing fad. The kind that starts burning fast and high, but then go down just as fast. Maybe am just waiting to see how soon this gets over. That should be interesting. Will keep you posted on that front, don’ worry.

I was exasperated. What a project! The topic – Awareness among the Middle class Indian female. It’s a group project and my part was to identify a female who can be termed as the quintessential Indian female and do a sort of interview where I have to gauze her awareness and how educated she is. No wonder I was flummoxed. How do I search for the so called quintessential Indian female. Mother India? Ekta Kapoor Bahus?
Who? Then suddenly I remembered her. Our neighbour – Saraswati Aunty
Age around late forties. Mother of three children. Husband working as an UDC in Pay and Accounts Office. She fitted the bill perfectly. Ma fixed the appointment with a little bit of coaxing and then in a blink I was there in front of her door armed with a notepad and pencil.
What happens next is put forward as a script. With my remarks in bold

Me- Hello Aunty. Ma must have ..
SA- Oh come in, come in. Yes, yes,..you are here for a survey isn’t it?
(survey? Damn! Did Ma say that?)
Me- Umm sort of, or rather a chit chat.
SA- Accha accha . Come in beta.
Me- (in a business like manner )
Lets start then.See I will be asking u a few questions or rather opinion. It will be about Politics , Education, ..
(Aunty nods)
Health…
SA- Wait let me get you some water( and runs of to get a glass of water)
(Comes back)
Me – Yes as I was saying . your opinion on money matters , Social issues.
SA – Wait! Will you have tea or coffee ?
Me- Aunty just answers please. (helplessly) as I was saying on global issues.. Environmental..
SA- Wait! You must have something. I will fetch u some sherbet.

Remarks- Quintessential Indian woman has very less attention span and think that making your guests comfortable guests is more important than an intellectual discussion.

SA- (Returning with her sherbet) Yes, so what were u saying?
Me- Nothing
SA- He he he! You must be angry. Arre, you are here to visit me after so many days. How can I let go of the opportunity to entertain you.
Me – Atithi Devo Bhaba! Hmm?
SA- Whats that?
Me- That’s the tag line of tourism. Ok tell me, what do you think of India’s tourism scene?
SA- Yes, yes there are good nice places. Bittu is going to Manali for his honeymoon. We never had a proper honeymoon. But the children should. We are planning for Badrinath sometime in the future.
Me- Of course Aunty, but what do you think is India’s position in the world tourism scene? The issues that are affecting it.
SA- (nodding her head.) Expenditure. Money. Leaves from office. If Govt will not grant vacation , then how are we expected to go for travelling?
(I looked at her incredulous perspective)
Ek min let me bring some chips and biscuits and some tea too. It will perk us up..
Me – (Trying to Protest but fails)

Remarks- (Quintessential Indian Woman is not concerned with the so called greater issues of Indian tourism, but their concerns are more practical and down to earth. And of course although she does not know the meaning of Atithi Devo Bhava she practices it fully).

(Aunti reappears)
Me –Nice munchies .
SA- Yes and they are easy to make. Economical and healthy.
Me- Good ! Speaking of Economics , what do you think of the recent recession?
SA- Recession? Hmmm!…Wait! Let me bring some onions to peel to pickle them
Me-(Sighs)
SA- (Aunty returns with onions and bitter gourd.) Have u tried pickling them/ it stays put for many days and serves as sabzi. It is a good time saving and money saving things for the purpose of sabzi, Do you like aam ka panna? I have prepared some. All my kids swear by it.
Me-Ok! and what do you do with the money saved? Shares ? mutual funds? ULIPs?
SA- Eh what are those? Aree I save in gold and post office and fixed deposits. It will help my kids to settle down in future.

Remarks- Quintessential Indian Women doesn’t know about the Indian stocks and shares scene, but yes they didnt lose any money during recession,and they are damn good at applying economics in their kitchen).

Me- So Aunty. You are planning to marry off Bittu?
SA- Yes
Me- Well, what do u think of the dowry system?
SA- (sobering up) Means? Ok… see beta. Every body has expectations. Every body likes gifts, isn’t it? Birth day gifts. Gifts from parents , from lovers? You get my point na? see I m not saying its good. But basically it is about expectations. Every mother has expectations for their son. Nothing wrong with it if you let the thought be just a thought. Basically majority of mothers want a good daughter in law only.. .someone who can properly take care of our sons, with love and happiness , , of course . But they say na!- where there will be two females there’s bound to be conflict. That is a different matter.… but yes some females are to be blamed, but beta don’t generalise your opinion on it. Expecting good things for your son is totally different from the whole issue of the evils of dowry.

Remarks- A totally different perspective about the dowry system by the quintessential Indian woman. Yes a different take.

Me- Ok , what do you think of Shashi Tharoor?
Aunti- Who? New actor? ( I am about to choke)( seeing my expression. Smiles sheepishly. ) Just give me 5 mins .Mind if I iron clothes and speak to you simultaneously?
Me –( shaking my head). So which political party do you favour?(after she comes back )
Sa- What does it matter? It is not about parties. It is about persons. I favour the one who can provide us with better facilities , listen to us at our times of need. The party doesn’t matter. It is the person. If he is good, then he can turn everything in his favour . like? Gandhiji.

Remarks –Quintessential Indian woman has no idea about the current political scenario but yes! She has a practical and direct approach of what she wants.

Me- What do you think of career and education?
SA- aha! Yes education.wait! Give me few mins. I need to just finish the lunch preparation.
(Coming back)- Yes. Hmm it is very essential. It is the children’s choice. What can I say? They know more. And career? Arre, I m only a tenth pass. I know only to cook and manage home. And that I do with total sincerity and honesty. No half measures for that. My home, my family is the world to me. And today’s kids? Well they are so advanced , they try to encompass the world as their family.( I looked around her modest two bedroom flat. It was spic and span. Tidy. Orderly and everything at hand)

Remarks – Quintessential Indian woman has no idea about the current career options but they know that whatever you do should be done with total sincerity and honesty. No half measures about it.

Me-Ok aunti ji I had lots to ask but I am running late. One last question for you. Do you watch TV?
SA- Yes!
Me- And what do you like watching? News?
SA- Of course, I do watch news to find out about price hikes, but other than that I watch those daily soaps
Me- Ok you don’t watch those panel discussions and cover stories and all?
SA- see beta! Whole day we slog hard to keep home .the cooking, washing, utensils. Kids. By evening I am dead tired. The mind is completely blank. i will not understand a thing at that stage if I watch those news story and panel discussions. But yes those soaps – you don’t need any serious thinking to watch them. Sometimes they even lull me to sleep.. So!

Remarks- If a Quintisential Indian female watches television soaps, it does not mean that she loves them – By god this was very heartening to know.

Well I came back from the interview. Not much of material I guess. But it set me thinking. I mean the quintissential Indian female- who can be anyone- my Mom, your Mom, Granny , Aunty…… In Indian tradition, all of them have been brought up with one common diktat. That is- Your family and home is your whole world, and they dedicate their lives to uphold that principle strongly. They may not be educated but they have a practical and educated approach to life. They may not be aware of the greater and global issues of the world, but yes they are very much aware of even minutest needs of their family. They are aware of how to be a good human . They are experts at how to make your home, a better place for you.
Today’s generation indeed tries to globalize the whole of world into one whole unit, into a one big family. Thanks to technology, of course. I wish, hope we too thought that the world is one big family and our family, the world. Wish we too worked sincerely and honestly with no half measures for its upkeep. Wish we too knew how to be good human. And make the world a better place to live.

Dear Diary,

In the dictionary of a 20 something unmarried young girl in conversation with society-induced paranoid adults, the word ‘marriage’ means: harassment. Living in an era where skin-deep beauty is revered, physical attention is cherished by those blessed and craved by those unpossessed and “perfect” means not susceptible to any social prejudice at the minimum. And then some more. No wonder that-vampire-in-that-forNOTgoodnesssake-Twilight-saga is a huge rage.

Therefore, there are people like my mother who, when it comes to my marriage wonder (historically with head in arms, mind deep in thought, and eyes reflecting the same light the glass table they’re staring at is reflecting), “Who will marry you?!”

Why wouldn’t anyone want to marry me? Is it because I have no vision? Does it seem like I need ‘special attention’ instead of ‘being a help around the house’? Unlike the family who say “It’s our duty”, the boy and his family would be imposed by a burden?

I do not like the word ‘burden’. Neither do I see ‘special attention’ and ‘help around the house’ as contradictions. And moreover, will the guy I would marry be perfect with no problems of his own that I wouldn’t have to compromise on?

And you know what. Thank god I have RP. This keeps me away from those idiots who fall for physical beauty, run away at the time of adversity, and blame it on the rest of the world when things go wrong. The man who’s willing to take me is willing to look adversity in the eye and take it up. And this is the man I want to live with.

So when Mom asked the epic “Who will marry you?”, “Ma…” I began slowly. “There must be some guy in this world who is..” I paused to choose my words carefully. “Open-minded?” Mom silently offered.

“Yes!” I exclaimed relieved as mom gave a tearful chuckle and a warm hug.

Mom’s strong now. She’s still fearful about groom prospects. But she has begun to accept the condition as nothing to feel ashamed of or as a pain. That’s half battle won. The quest for the man who’s willing to take me, the one I’m willing to spend my life with… still continues.

Signing off.
Me.

Dear diary,

For the last 21 yrs (if you include cycling since I was 3), I’ve been driving. Exactly the same day last week, I went to the local RTO and surrendered my driving license.

I stood there in the middle of the chequered floor, hands shaking, mind drifting. My feet automatically took me towards the officer waiting there, while memories swirled through my eyes shifting one after the other..

I remember the first taste I had of driving. I was 3, and I tagged along with my dad who was busy following my elder brother who was indeed busy with himself ogling at the bicycles displayed fighting to make up his mind about which one was going to be his first. Soon, I was chasing my brother’s first cycle when he was driving it around in the front yard, racing against him, losing and threatening in between heavy sobs and my mother’s calming hands, “You wait till I get my own cycle!” My brother would inevitably waggle his tongue and drive away splendidly to join his friends. I would watch them in awe, and turn to look into my mother’s eyes, eagerly anticipating. Everytime.

I never waited for the tricycle. Went for the cycle with those little wheels to the sides at the age 5. I was a rider, and I knew it. I remembered my first time, fearing the track my bro had biked on ever so often. Baba came upto me, held my tender hands firmly in place on the handle, ran with me as I rode along his strides, and how I knew I would never fall, with him standing beside me. Instant memory of hitting the 80-yr old dadi wearing a white cotton saadi, and watching her fall into a pool of mud flashed across my eyes. I let out a teary chuckle.

My first driving lessons, first driving license, international license, first car, first drive, first long drive, favourite songs being sung while driving, first accident, worst accident, friends learning from my car, imitating irritating people complaining about parking problems just to make the moment lighter, first servicing, terrible shock looking at the servicing bill.. All these memories came rushing back to me as I stood in front of the officer.

Last week, I ran my car into a boy. And the boy is seriously injured. Not dead, thankfully. I shivered as I got out. I hadn’t seen him at all. I took my vision for granted for far too long. And now it was time to pay. The world’s safety is more important than my comfort. Come to think of it, my own safety is more important than my comfort. I cannot drive anymore. It was a fact that I had to accept. As I stood up to leave, I wiped the tears gushing down my face. It was time to shift gears. Literally.

I now use the painfully reliable local public transport. The autos? Yeah. I’m aware that pretty soon I’d be spending next month’s salary. And the buses, the trains? You can never rely on them for getting anywhere on time. Neither can you rely on me to get anywhere on time. And when we’re both together, well, my boss knows best what it’s like. His proudest moment came when he said at the loudest, “You’re only a 35 minutes late!”

Still, the local transport gives me the power to go where I want without waiting for someone to drop me, or having to witness the “Oh! I have to drop you too! Damn!” syndrome too many a times for my comfort. And it’s a wonderful opportunity to watch so many people who, like me, use the public transport to beat their limitations. And get along with life hustling and bustling.

Pretty soon, I will have my very own Volkswagen with a chauffeur. i.e. my dad and his Maruti. I remember how he used to drop me at school. He’s happy to drop me at work now. And I’m happy the good old days are back.

Signing off.
Me.

You can also write to Miss Cellany now. miss.cellany@friedeye.com

Dear Diary,

Now that I’m legally blind, I have decided to buy a cane. You see, the traffic is driving me mad. I just cannot walk on the roads without being hit! Bloody cows. And buffaloes. Add a bunch of mysteriously thinking motorists at the helm. Idiots. They never understand. We could get each other killed.

But the bigger issue here is not the safety, but the society. I have to admit, I AM a pretty babe, one of the most checked out in the office. A cane would totally undermine my sex appeal. Right?

Wrong. Rather, who cares? Sex appeal or safety? In fact, neither. Sanity should be the option. And I choose that. Plus, sex appeal comes with the way one handles self. Just being who you are. You know what, I might just make being blind cool! And the Polaroids look absolutely awesome. On me, of course.

I’m happy with who I am. And its upto me to show the world that “Yes, I do the same things. Just differently.” So differently, yet as efficiently, that the world is amazed. See, I finish my work too… Just seconds before the deadline ends. (Note: Procrastination may or may not have played a role.) And that always sets things in order leaving no doubts whatsoever in anybody’s mind about what I can or cannot do. *Nods*

Hey, I even saved Pramod from the traffic police! That reminds me. He owes me 200 bucks. Anyway, thanks to the outstanding accessibility features, the fact that I can access my browser three times faster is only cause of jealousy around the workplace. Huh.

Was made organizer for Valentine’s day party games. Came up with games “Red Heart meets Red Rose”, “Cupid’s arrow strikes!”, “Do Eye see what you see?” and some more I shall not mention here. It was only Shruthi who understood the more profoundly sinister reason behind the choice of games. Yup. I won’t be taking part in any of these.. And like always, the show began with the immortal words – “Let the suffering begin!”

O! And I also joined the Retinitis Pigmentosa Awareness Programme on Facebook. Awareness is such a critical thing I tell you. Now that I’ve told the world I can’t see, especially the what I can’t see, things are much easier. Feels good. For a change.

Signing off.
Me.

Get in touch with Miss Cellany : miss.cellany@friedeye.com

With a song on my lips and spring in my steps I set out for my workplace this morning. Everything looked fresh and clean. I was waiting at a traffic intersection for the chartered bus when I witnessed an incident which… I am not sure if i have an adjective to describe it yet. So let me just narrate it instead.

Two guys were trying to jump the red-light when a girl in a Getz suddenly raced in from the adjacent green side cutting short their herogiri. The guys,narrowly missed being hit, let out an instantaneous Heyy! The girl slowed down as if on reflex; with a mischievous smile took a hand off the steering wheel, made an unmistakable FO sign with her fingers and sped away leaving the guys and an Auntiji standing near me absolutely shocked. The guys on the bike recovered and smiling sheepishly drove away. I had doubled up giggling hysterically. Wow! That was some attitude. Some girl she was. A Gutsy girl with a wicked sense of humour. Go woman!

Of course, Auntiji did not lose a moment to turn that disapproving glare towards me now that the Getz whisked by. I immediately tried to control myself. I am sure Auntiji must have been silently cursing us crazy next-gen women who upset her orthodox senses of dos and don’ts at probably every traffic signal she halts at these days. I mean, just think of the woman who just crossed by. The incident must have lasted for just a few seconds but it was enough to check her out. (Yes guys! I did say check her out.Why? How much time do you need to do so? And at any rate we women check other women out faster than most specimens of your species do.) Beautiful, sexy, confidence oozing from every pore. The kohl-rimmed eyes, that dainty nose-ring and the black turtleneck hinted at just the right concoction of mischief and devil-may-care attitude. BLACK MAGIC WOMAN. That attire and attitude proudly announced that she wasn’t one of those who looked towards qualifying as the sushil bharatiya nari (a fact seconded by the deadly stares of Auntiji).

Ah well, my bus arrived, and I energetically hopped up to push my way through the already crowded aisle. My head carried within it that woman who came and wafted by like a breath of fresh air. Her surprise counter to the wannabe Roadies made my day and I am sure even those guys who were at the receiving end enjoyed the experience. (I hope they learnt something from it too, I won’t bet too much on it though. )

Now you can contact Miss Cellany: miss.cellany@friedeye.com

Dear Diary,

What makes some of us extra-ordinary and why? The other day my friend Urmi and I were watching a television program. I don’t recall exactly what they were showing as I had only one ear cocked towards it. Suddenly Urmi sighed “ How minuscule and ordinary we are, aren’t we? I mean look at them, so extraordinary. Achievers. And here we are, still struggling with our daily routine, doing nothing worthwhile. ”

She seemed sincerely upset and to console her with some funny comment, I blurted out, “ so what is so extraordinary in being extraordinary and what’s so ordinary in being ordinary ?” I honestly thought I was being funny but I found Urmi staring at me with a new found wisdom, eyes alight, smiling with gratitude. Err… what did I say now? Something stopped our conversation and turned it elsewhere. Later on at night I started ruminating about what I had so innocently uttered and how it impressed my most level headed friend. You see I don’t easily impress people. It impressed me as well. (#PJ)

Hmmm…achievers and underachievers…I sometimes wonder why everyone is so obsessed about achievements and extraordinariness. I mean, why do we have to try so hard that we get desperately obsessed with it? Not that I have anything against achievers or extraordinary people. I swear, it’s not a case of sour grapes if you are thinking so. Nor is it a – give a damn attitude or smugness .I do admire them and look up to them for inspiration. They are the bright spots in our dull life. Believe me, I really mean it. They either worked hard or were bestowed by nature (sometimes its a combination of both) and now are basking in its glory. Fair enough! And I do feel pleased and proud when someone I care about accomplishes an extraordinary feat. But should that make me feel like a failure?

Urmi is a working girl. She takes home a DECENT salary from her job. She has hobbies, I wonder how she manages to squueze in time for those, and she manages home, taking care of parents and pets. A lot of young women do the same. But should that necessarily make us feel minuscule? You give your best, you work hard, you believe in what you do. You are ordinary as defined by the world. But, sometimes He has other plans for you, so hard work and our so called extraordinary plans fail. Sometimes I feel extraordinary plans are meant to fail. (REALLY???) Nature is known for its asymmetrical symmetry (or was it symmetrical asymmetry? Ah…Whatever!) When will we accept this fact and stop being so morose about it?

I fail to understand WHAT IS WRONG IN BEING ORDINARY? I believe comic cartoons reflect our society. The most popular cartoons are based on ordinary man, look at Chacha Chaudhari, Common Man, Suppandi etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Even our very own Wise Bachelor is an ordinary man. It sounds a little warped but it is our ordinariness that makes extraordinariness so special, isn’t it? We will always want to excel, we will always set targets for ourselves. That after all is the way of bettering one’s own life and living it the best way possible. I believe that God put us on this world to be ordinary and not extra-ordinary. This sounds a bit clichéd but, as someone said (Arghhh… I keep forgetting names), “Nothing is cliché, when it is happening with you.” I hope I do not get sucked into the rat race to such an extent that I forget to enjoy what I have achieved so far however “ordinary” it may seem to the world. Anything hard earned is an achievement an “extra” to our ordinary living. And I hope I do not forget this little truth. This is what makes my bed-ridden grandmother, my government employee father, my housewife mother and my school going siblings EXTRAORDINARY. Somewhere it makes me an achiever too -every time I brew that perfect cup of coffee to keep myself up through cold nights full of work or write that perfect report for a company meeting amidst a dozen odd anxieties. I wanna stay ordinary, EVERY SINGLE DAY, SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, MAJOR HOLIDAYS INCLUDED. I wonder if Urmi felt the same when she looked at me with those grateful eyes…

P.S. – That almost 90 N.D. Tiwari is super extra-ordinary.