Love is in my pages

God has a funny of going about his divine interventions. I wonder if he crafts his plans out with painstaking detail or just poops it out sitting on the crapper, chewing through his cigar? And, although I believe that he has my best interest in heart, I have to wonder if he does not take a special glee in torturing my soul, dragging it through muck, nose smooshed into the ground to make his point.

More than Superman’s chaddi ka colour, it is public knowledge that my mother has wanted me to tie the knot for quit some time now. Since I was 18, actually. Find love. Settle down. Falana falana dimka. I have dodged the bullet till now. And, with the program I am currently studying, human contact let alone relationships feel like unfathomable phenomena.

But then, along comes an assignment. Wherein, I come up with an insight that for women, searching for boots is like searching for their man – the ONE. I come up with a few other strategies as well but the teacher likes this one so much, she insists I only work further on that. She does not even WANT to look at my other ideas, apparently so well have I nailed this strategy down.

Quite a victory, right? Go ahead silly girl, pat yourself on the back. NO. For now, I have been trapped into a maze of love. I have been staying away from love, avoiding a relationship to focus on this course. But for the very same course, I am neck deep in love research. It has become a full-time job. I am reading love poems, blogs, articles on finding your soulamtes, browsing through personals, love quotes, synonyms, love love love. Dripping in sweetness, dark night under the moon and stars, champagne and strawberries, cuddling in bed love. It makes me acutely aware of how not in a relationship I am, how I am only the proverbial “aadha”. That I am SINGLE.

And now, I really want to MINGLE.

Not cool, God. NOT. COOL.

(Bawls)

All in a night's work

Right now, I will tell you this is a thoroughly immoral, stupid post. But, it needs to be chronicled so here goes:

We started the night as a typical Circus Thursday night – meeting up for drinks at Moe’s and Joe’s – an old bar with wooden seats, a jukebox that was never updated from since the 70s, graffiti made from sharpie that has somehow become the staple haunt of Circus kids for the sol reason that PBR is sold here for really cheap. And, we are despicably broke.

It was a pretty good night to be out. The weather was pleasant and cool and we enjoyed a round of drinks sitting on the makeshift patio outside the bar. We even lined up against the gates, so people who were coming in thought we were the bouncers. Some even flipped out their IDs for us. We played along, asking them for an admission fee as well but fessed up when they actually started paying us. Damn you, conscience!

It was BG’s birthday and by popular vote, it was decided to take him to a strip club (ATL is famous for insane number of strip clubs and porn-related stores – I’ve never been to a more sex-obsessed city). Our party broke and we headed to M’s place while some other went and picked up more friends. On our way there, we decided that we had to count all the bumps on the road just like the Count would on Sesame Street (the show, stupid). At every bump we’d go, “ Onnnnne! One bump! Aa!Aa!Aa!”, “Twoooooo! Twooooh bumps! Aa! Aa! Aa!” “Threeeeeee!Three bumps! Aa!Aa!Aa”…you get the idea.

Then at M’s place, we got bored of waiting and D’s buzz was wearing out. So, M pulled out some Absinthe, a euphism really for Some Nasty Shit. The sadder thing is that we actually drank it- it smelt like black liquerish but that’s where the similarities ended.

Thereafter, M took us on a tour of his complex and we decided to explore the restooms in greater detail. As I came out of the women’s room, I saw K walking down the hallway with his belt flailing and pants unzipped. His shirt covered his gentleman parts. As I did a double-take and balked, he said to me,” What Did you see my underwear, no right?” Oh, the joy of being one of the guys.

You might think this is where the debauchery ended, but hardly. We were heading to a strip club remember. We did make it there, and we did remember to print out a coupon for free entry( yes, we are resourceful when it comes to not paying for anything). And, BG got about 7 lap-dances that night. His girl friend also got one. Honestly, she looked like she enjoyed it more than he did. Stripper seemed to be more comfortable letting her touch than him anyway.

The night ended with me and D walking home from the club. Not to fear, we live right down the block from it, next to the largest liquor store in the neighbourhood. Yea, we are pimpin’ like that.

Naat.

I miss..

Having Mom wake me up in the mornings.

Seeing her sitting on the floor, reading the newspaper with her steaming morning tea.

Watching my brother take his G.I. Joes, He-Mans and Hot Wheels into the shower. Don't ask me why. I don't know. Really.

The smell of melting ghee that Mom would smear over hot chapatis.

Wishing all the family members "Goodnight" when we retired to bed.

Talking random stuff with my brother as we lay in our beds, trying to sleep.

Sitting on the terrace on a cold night, using matchsticks to decorate our hands with henna.

Shelling peas with my aatya, Rani tai and Mom.

Mom showing me how to scrape off dried henna with oil.

Going for walks on mini Seashore and eating pani puri right after.

Being surprised with chikki or falooda when my parents got home from work.

Playing Land and Water, Hide and Seek, Sakhli, Lagori with colony friends.

Getting my ass whooped by my bro in badminton(but secretly proud that he played so well).

Playing badminton late at night till we could barely make out the shuttlecock/birdie. And, with imaginary nets.

My brother making phulkas under Mom's supervision(I baked the cake).

Visitng Mom's office in World Trade Center and pressing every floor on the elevator( there were 32).

Setting the table for Sunday lunch - tata, vatya, chamche, paanyacha jug, glasses and awesome food!

Watching an afternoon movie after Sunday lunch.

Dad saying all the punchlines of the movie we were watching.

The TV remote spazzing out when Dharmendra came on screen(Dad was the biggest fan ever!).

Dad touching my head and pretending he was burnt everytime I was angry...which happened a lot!

Chasing my brother when he irritated me. Then, him chasing me to hit me back.

My brother doing the "Hrithik" dance from Kaho na Pyaar hai..tining tining tining tin nin nin...

Biting into hot juicy, roasted, chilli-lemon smeared bhuttas when it was wet and rainy out.

Going to my aunt's office and THEN asking for a dosa. Sada, not masala.

Playing Jolly with school friends. Princess M! Had a mole on her hand so you could never win with her!

Getting to school early to copy out other people's homework.

Imitating teachers during the free periods. Pal, Albert, Nair Madam... ahhh esss come back!

Riding a bicycle with my Dad supporting the back.

Picking at scabs, pricking blisters even though we were told not to.

Going to school in blue and grey uniforms. Coming home in brown. And without the tie.

Climbing the colony gates and jumping over..

Swinging on the school gates.

Antakshari on the school bus ride home.

(incomplete)