Addicted

During this last week of my notice period, my office has made an overhauling attempt of holding me back. No extra money, no higher post; they have upgraded the creaking hotpot machine for a swanky coffee machine which dispenses cappuccino, espresso and mocha, along with a frother 17 steps away from my seat.
Yes, very very tempting; since I got to office 3 hours ago, I have already downed 2 ½ cups of coffee, and am raring to go. The aircon has dispensed a strong aroma of beans which hits you as soon as the door is swiped open.
Why now? Couldn’t the have waited just a week longer…The long emotional, tear-wrenching speeches from the seniors, colleagues and co-workers couldn’t revoke my plans to exit from this place. But this coffee-machine, I am now considering stay-back as a strong option.

My White Elephants

Inspired by Cup of Ice, I began to think about white elephants in my life. Now, as I begin wrapping up operations from my parental house, I have started drawing out the white elephants I have been collecting and pushing into my attic room.

For starters, there is cupboard filled choc-o-block with books. These figure in my white elephant list since there are several ones which are gems of literature which I have not opened to read even once. Over years, some of them have disintegratedl the remainder my mom plans to give away.

Electronic gadgets occupy the biggest chunk of 'wasted money'. Since an early age, I have been saving up pocket money (back in college) and a couple of salaries to lay my hands on the shiny objects of desire. In most cases, looks have been deceptive, with little VFM (value-for-money). These gadgets, even past their life, continue to reside in my drawer as reminders to the money I wasted on them.

Next in line are the largest space-hoarders - clothes. Oh yes. I have loads of them, most of them reminiscent of my college days when I was a size 1 and my mom would get me a new piece of clothing once every week, if not more. Ended up, I could go without repeating the same top for upto 3 months! In hope that I will shed my weight of several gained kilos and squeeze into these clothes again, they continue to occupy 2 cupboards-full, one of which was poached upon once my brother left to study.

Of these, several pieces are now up for donation to cousins, less-privileged in the villages etc. But this activity comes to pass in my absence under the scrutiny of my mother. I cannot yet bear the pain to see those lovely scrumptious clothes taken away. Even if I can't wear them now, or won't probably ever manage again, its a satisfying experience to touch them, transfer them from one packet of clothing to another, iron out the creases with my palm, and relive the memories attached to them.

Now, as I prepare to ink a fresh chapter in my life, it is best to tear off some of these redundant pages.

You’re kidding me!

Most of you know of my unfaltering love of B’bay and how much I have been wanting to back, of late. Fortnight ago, a friend of mine moved to B’bay, after a stint in B’lore [where we met], to join a publishing house. She has been slightly nervous about the big, overwhelming city. In turn, I have been missing her lots since we were movie-buddies and used to mall-crawl and she used to put up with my tantrums [the last point being of most importance].
In B’bay since 2 weeks, she was at the company guest house, looking for a place, and had nearly found one in Bandra; except for some un-agreeable terms by the owner.
Incidentally, I called her today, while she was on her way to a cousin’s place, where she is shacking up till she finds a place. We were incessantly talking as she gave instructions to the auto-driver.
She: "Juhu Galli" to the auto-driver
Me: "Is that where you cousin lives?"
She: "Yeha!"
Me: "Dude! That’s where my place in Mumbai is. I grew up there." Unable to contain the suspense, I ask, "Where in Juhu Galli does your cuz live?"
She: "Gulshan"
Long silence followed by a drawn breath. Words cannot replace my reaction.
She: "You are kidding me!"
Me: "Nope. That’s where I grew up. What is the flat number?"
She: "They live in B"
Me: Bigger gasp
She: "OMG!"
Once she reaches the building I get her to stand in front of the name board and locate my flat. I can’t sit still. SHE is there, and I am not! L
Frantic! Panic! Joy! All confused. Too excited.
I ask her if the old neighbours I played and grew up with are still about. Obviously, she doesn’t know, but does her best to pacify my excited.
Weee! I want to go to B’bay.
Now! Now! Now!

Bangalore Blues? or Rules?

There has been a nagging voice inside my head. It reminds me ever so often that I have changed - become a mature person, sensible and rational (could this be b'caz I have someone much younger working under me?). Of course, people are still in doubt these qualities could come to nestle in me, but I can certainly see the shift.
And at this glorious occassion, I would like to thank... Bangalore city which has played a non-silent and major role. From the day I first came to city, all I have done is crib about Bangalore, and left no opportunity to weigh it down against B'bay. The inference each time 'this would never happen in B'bay', or 'you don't get such basic things in B'lore?' Of course, I could have returned back to B'bay (in fact, I did so for 6 months) and no one would bat an eyelid, or tag it as a rash decision.
I love B'bay, the humidity, open sea, gusts of salted spray, vada pav, local trains, BEST buses, clubbing, Page 3 parties, celebrity-spotting...
But I like B'lore too! This city embraced me when I came here without kith or kin; befriended me when I had no one to call a friend; smiled at me warmly when I was afraid of being felt up; it is now my comfort zone.
I feel like I am betraying B'bay, but I find no reason to even think of returning to B'bay, especially when looking at a place to live long-term. B'lore has a ridiculous 11.30pm deadline for pubs & restaurants, but I also finish work by 7pm (unlike 10.30pm in B'bay). The auto fares are higher, and the drivers blatant cheats, but I can choose to live a 2-minute stroll from office (unlike the humongous fare I shelled out to avoid the rush hour trains). I miss vada pav and Neera at the platform, but I can go home for freshly cooked lunch everyday...

Reporting from the train to Mumbai - I

The gujjus on the train. Well, gave me a headache. One of them was a funny, sweet kinda person. Very helpful and full of energy. He was talking non-stop (now thts not new!) but was helpful to everyone. sharing his stuff, etc. wotever. seemed sweet. but thinner than a flattened bamboo pole. I swear.
There was a guy sharing the same seat with me. So, we both sat on our own side of the seat, and tried to sleep. I pretty well managed. But would get up every now and again. And soon realised no one was there on the other end of the seat. Looked around. This dude had put a towel on the floor and gone to sleep there! Which turned out great for me. So i put my pillow, grabbed my shawl and slept aaram se till about 7 am.
Aaage ki kahani...will be contd tomm :p

My first week in Bangalore

Chilly wind from the vents broke my sleep. 5 hours more and I will be in Bangalore. Freedom! Here I come. But as the train edged to the platform, apprehension began to seep in. I don’t know anyone. Can’t even speak the language.
But then, look at that lush greenery. Trees lining every street.
But what’s with these one-way roads? Driving 15 minutes to get across the street! Better than a stinky massage in the train every morning…
First day at work, cool. Dad dropped me and wandered off to explore the city. Got introduced to the bunch and began tapping on the keyboard. I am just warming up.
Dad’s left by the evening train. Now I’m really by myself. Met an old pal who was down for business over coffee. Got a low-down on the hip places. Now the problem - 1200 pubs, and no one to go hopping with.
Lets ask favours. SOS to all friends ‘Get me numbers people you know in Bangalore.’ Result yielded immediately. Vinay called. Nikhil’s pal from Surat. Has been instructed to ‘baby-sit’ me. We’ll get back to that one later!
Awesome sense of humour. Smart chap, but something is amiss. Night wore on, and comfort level increased, sob story spilled out. Hey! Too bad for you.
We dogged down a pizza and I was dropped at the doorstep. I stealthily walked up the stairs. Conservative lot around here. Will be bulleted with questions if they catch me walk in at 11.30 for the third time in a row.