Hema Malini: "Haaaaannnnn"

Mothers to fussy sons: "Eat all the damn food I cook. What's your wife going to say when she sees I haven't taught you anything in your maika."

Mamata Bannerjee: "I bathe on a daily basis.”

Varun Gandhi: "I know what I'm saying."

Ram Gopal Varma: "I know what I'm doing."

Narendra Modi: "I stand before you today so that you can throw all the chappals you want at me."

Shakti Kapoor: "I'm retiring from films. I'll only make an exception when they make a sequel to Andaz Apna Apna."

Account Executives to Art Directors: "Make the logo smaller. Miniscule, in fact."

Account Executives to Copywriters: "Don't mention the offer more than once. My audiences are intelligent enough to understand your idea."

Aamir Khan: "I don't have ego issues. Really.”

This started as a Facebook thing, but I’m putting it on here anyway.

Why have I been away for a year and a half? Well, for reasons that go beyond just laziness, boredom and working my ass off.

Well for starters, I am now married. After a somewhat struggle of sorts with people around, my former boyfriend and I are now man and wife. Despite my reservations, there was the big, fat, loud Marwari wedding that my in-laws would not do without - nach, gaana, 20 kilo ghaghra - EVERYTHING! And much to my surprise (and horror) my demure Bengali side of the family seemed to enjoy it! Anyway, from what I have learnt of the “Shaadi Experience”, a wedding is nothing about the couple. It’s about the family. A marriage, though, is all about the couple. Thankfully.

The next thing is that I quit the job I loved in Bombay and moved to Dubai. Wasn’t a smart thing to do just as the recession hit the desert city (now almost like a deserted city), but it’s worth being jobless for a while. at least I don’t have a job that I am scared of losing!

So as you can see, life has been busy. But now I’m back and intend to keep it that way.

Honestly, I hate decision making. I've been good at it over the past years (well, mostly at least), but that's mostly due to two reasons ' a) pure luck and b) making the most of all my decisions. But somehow, I notice that decisions get more and more complex as you grow older. Like when you're four, and you need to choose between chocolate and ice-cream, you come up with a brilliant solution ' chocobar. It works perfectly well, chocolate on the outside and ice cream on the inside.

Then it gets complex. Science, arts or commerce? Then; engineering or medicine, chartered accountancy or management, journalism or law? Man. Then it just keeps getting worse. But for comfort, I look around and get both baffled and amused by the choices other people have to make around me. Here's an example of some one them and what my sarcastic self thinks of them. Because this is my blog [devilish grin]:

Chotu, my 4 year old niece: Raising hell about the lack of chips in her tiffin, or raising hell about the lack of Cadbury in the refrigerator?

Maybe she'll settle for raising hell in general, about whatever comes to her mind first ' even beyond the original choices.

A friend who's on a fierce diet: between khakhra and Marie biscuit.

Ouch. Just gulp down either with some Sprite.

One of my seniors at work [Obviously, I'm preserving identity. And my job]: To pitch, or to bitch?

Who cares, you do both quite badly.

Colleague who's getting married next summer: Pink lehenga, or green chaniya choli?

Seriously, try a blue bathrobe.

Diya, my 6 year old niece: To save the Kit Kat bar to share with friends in school tomorrow, or to give in to temptation.

Sweet child of mine; eat it now. Or else Chotu will.

I'm going to my see my entire family at my sister's place in Shillong this weekend. Yippppieeeee!!!!

Out of my normally extensive hyper-excitement on seeing my nieces, I called them last evening to know their toys preferences. I understand my sister's little one, rightly called Chotu, is learning Hindi. My sister encourages me to converse in Hidni with her for the sole purpose of entertaining myself.

Me: "Hi Chotu"

Chotu: "Hi Mamma. Kiiya karta hai tum?"

Me: "Hum toh aapse baat kar rahe hai. Aap kya kar rahe ho?"

A little more than a minute of complete silence. I think, shayad thoda zyada ho gaya.

Chotu:  "Main toh gaan gaa rahi hu"

She means she was singing a song.

I'm almost on the floor, rolling with laughter.

Me: "Oh, aur Papa kya kar rahe hai?"

Chotu: "Papa toh papa na Papa . Mera Papa toh ." This goes on for a while and then "Papa toh TV ka andar hai"

She means my brother in law's watching TV.

Me: "Aur Mummy?"

Chotu: "Ranna"

That means cooking in Bengali.

Me: Aur Diya? [Diya is my sister's older contribution to India's population, about two years older than Chotu]

Chotu: Diya toh maar khaati

That means Chotu just gave Diya a nice beating for reasons known best to her.

This reminds me of the time Diya was learning Hindi, and was equally hilarious. Even with English, her concoction of the new languages with Bengali used to keep us entertained all the time.

I haven't seen my parents since October. I haven't see my brother in law since more than a year and a half ago. My sister, the kids and I met up in Calcutta in January. But still, I'm most excited to see the kids again. I'm waiting to go and learn about all the new things they've seen and heard, learnt and felt. I'm waiting to hear all about their news explorations, and a few secrets they wouldn't tell anyone but me. I'm waiting to teach them obnoxious things to say so that they can suitably shock my parents. I'm waiting to hear all the new songs they've learnt and who in their 5 and 3 year old eyes is "hot". [Uh, that poll is for men and women aged between 40 to 100. And strictly within the family]

Yeah, this should be a fun trip.

Once in a while, a sudden sentence in a casual conversation leaps out and catches your attention. It happened at lunch to me yesterday and I've been thinking about it since then.

 
I was at Subway with Pooja and Karishma, two colleagues I really enjoy working with. Pooja is easily one of the best looking people I have met in my entire life. Young, bright, intelligent and way too mature for her 21 years, I often wonder how she's done so much so well, so fast in life. Karishma is another girl I simply adore at work. Bubbly, cute and outrageously funny; she just makes my day even with the simplest of things she says.

So yeah, back to the lunch conversation. Pooja got married last year. She was just 20 and apparently she and Ratan hit it off instantly and bought each other's wedding rings in two months. Now, I've never understood how that happens. I mean, yeah in an arranged marriage set up I understand; you have marriage on your mind when you meet a certain someone anyway and then you just tick away on your mental checklist and take a call. But here, you're just dating and "seeing each other" you know seeing how things go testing the waters whatever. So munching on iceberg lettuce minced between some seemingly exotic Italian bread, Karishma and I look at Pooja with wide-eyed amazement. And what she had to tell me, just triggered off an entirely new thought process in my head. She said "I was such a wild child, seeing 5 guys at a time. And one fine day, this guy walks into my house and I just stop taking everyone else's call. Two months and we're engaged and it didn't for one bit feel out of place. I think we guys just think so much and we're so scared about getting messed up and we keep thinking that something might go wrong and then we just can't let go of all that."

Pooja kept talking, but I'd lost her right there. It's so true. We're so scared of having to deal with the choices that life throws at us. We're so scared of everything ' not just about relationships, but any dream that we have. Dream to scale heights, dream to love again, dream to give up something that we're doing and take on something that we believed was our calling when we were 4. Fear rears its ugly head in the way of each dream; piling on enough examples from past disasters to overshadow the dreams bearing potential to turn themselves to reality. And we just think; "Forget it, we'll see what fate has in store for us." So fate will be the culprit; it will quietly take the responsibility of our brain murdering the ambition of the heart; while we just sit and stare. To break from this is tough, but is better too; I'm told. Like Rayo reminded me on his recent post again about what I had read in the Alchemist a while back but somewhere along, forgot to believe in ' the world's greatest lie.

“It’s this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by Fate. That’s the world’s greatest lie." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

There is a beautiful rendition of Baavra Mann in Hazarron Khwahishein Aisi by Shubha Mudgal, accompanied by Prithwish Nandy's poety that I keep listening to. And it's playing now in my head again. Let me share the lyrics here.

Sun in the earth sunflower

Bird in the air rain

Eye within eye daybreak

bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..

Streets we have never walked on

Windows we have never opened

Hands we have never held

Dreams we shall never see again

bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..

bavre se mann ki dekho bavri hain baatein

bavri si dhadkane hain bavri hain saanse

Sun in the earth sunflower

Bird in the air rain

Eye within eye daybreak

Lives we have never lived

Hopes we have never realized

Fires we have never lit

Loves we shall never never make again

bavra mann dekhne chala ek sapna ..

Sun in the earth sunflower

Bird in the air rain

Eye within eye daybreak

I hear those strange whispers again

Three months in Bombay, and I feel quite settled. Sure, I miss a lot about Pune ' from the breezy evenings to riding my bike, but Bombay's not bad. Though I haven't really hung out a lot with my new friends here, because I meet my friends from Pune almost every weekend when I'm not working; I'm liking the life here. I guess that's more because I'm loving the work and the place where I work.

Office has a lot of specimens, each unique in their own way. While my art partner's a foodie by birth and right, it's funny watching her trying to stick to her various diets ' fruit/detox/no carb/low carb and a million others. And another copywriter trying to break her will to the best of his ability the scene's actually funnier than I can explain in words. Thankfully, most of our seniors are nice, helpful and often ridiculously funny. Sometimes by meaning to be funny and other times, just by nature. Like the other day, when we were trying to have a serious conversation with our creative director while he was trying to clip his ear lobe with A-clips. Hmn, yeah; they're funny like that.

Then there are the pretty things flying around. Svelte nice looking women who besides taking the train and other forms of Bombay's exciting public transport don't have a single hair out of place. In unfortunate times, when I am with stuck with one of them waiting for a vacant loo, I cannot help but think that my hair must be suggesting I'm related to Jimi Hendrix ' genetically of course. 

There are things I miss about Pune too. The evening weather, for instance. And my interaction with children. Not just the Prayatna kids, but other too; you know, I mean generally. I miss picking up children; playing knee rides and singing to them (counter productively scaring them). 

But there are a lot of good things too. I've caught up on my reading, thanks to the bus rides. And walking along the beach, though technically, you can't walk a lot near the water here. Just on the concrete pavements, which works just as well for me too. This week, two of my closest friends leave for what these comp geeks call "onsite" travel. One goes west, to the UK; and the other to the far-east, to a small town called Fukushima in Japan. Of course, we couldn't get more dramatic. With these two leaving, and the monsoons coming in to do what they do best, I'm guessing my Pune visits will become less frequent and I'll get more time to go out with my new found Bombay buddies (Ouch, that sounds disturbing). But anyway.