I want...

Decided to create a list of things I have been perpetually drooling over. Basically because I have nothing to do, the husband is watching Ocean's 11 or 12 or 13 for the 14th time and there is a computer in front of me. Also just in case I have a lot of money to blow up sometime in the future and need a ready reckoner. So here goes:

Cushion covers from Good Earth. Those super bright magenta and green combos. I also love the ones with old Bollywood icons printed on them and almost end up buying one everytime I visit Good Earth (which is whenever I go to the UB City terrace to see the boy's favourite fountains, which is not very often). Then I remember that in my house, cushions spend most of their time on the floor when baap beta are around and are ocassionally also decorated with sauce, breadcrumbs and their bretheren. Given that, I think the affordability stretches just about to non silk, cotton Fabindia.

Since I am on a wanting spree here, I also go and stare at Tod's D bag everytime I am in UB City and can drag the child away from the fountain. This serves a two-fold purpose: I tell myself that at Rs. 45,000 and more it is too much money to spend on a bag that will eventually hold a box of chocos, a wallet, a pack of wipes, a few crayons and a sipper and possibly visit exciting places with me like the play area in Oasis Mall. Also I do not have 45k to spend on a bag. The moment this thought occurs, I cheer myself up by thinking the number of Hidesigns and Baggits and streetside fake leather totes I can buy for that amount. I won't but sochne me kya jaata hai?

There's also an autorickshaw bag that I read about recently (and instantly wanted) in a Brunch article and autorickshaw cushion covers from Play Clan in Delhi (google them if you want, I tried the link but some fake scanning message keeps popping up). Nice and different. And would bring a smile to your face everytime you spotted them. To me that part is very important. Oh and some t-shirts from Masala Tee (though at Rs. 2500 I find it too much for a t-shirt for the same reasons as given for the D bag).

Oh and while I'm on the desi overdose topic, maybe a painted kettle or bucket by Aarohi Singh who makes absolutely mad things like a table made of a snakes and ladders game. And also this Happily Unmarried truck photo frame. Have the beer mugs and their chai ke cups, though the finishing on the beer mugs isn't all that great.

I love having a fun aspect to design. It makes you laugh in the oddest of moments and has a certain cool factor (how uncool am I to admit that but that's the truth) that I like. The good thing is that a lot of product design is getting influenced by a severely desi dose of humour now and can make for great gifts, to yourself or others. Like the Bhaisaab Clock at Loose Ends for instance. The great thing about such design, at least to me, is that it's almost like an inside joke. Not everyone would understand or appreciate it but the ones who do would have a good laugh at its inherent, quirky Indianness.

In Bnagalore, they used to have a great store for such stuff called The Native Place on Museum Road, which has now shut shop. Probably because they couldn't find enough customers who appreciated a toilet paper roll called Cheerharan or the ones who did thought twice about paying for it (me, kanjoos me. I did think of buying and displaying it on the sideboard though). There's another fun store here called Levitate, which is quite neat with its collection at times but a bit like being in a Goa flea market and feeling that you aren't the target audience sometimes.

I'm also discovering that with advancing years, I have started loving a fair dose of bling, one of the reasons I loved cushion covers from Area, which has closed in Bangalore now. What doesn't work for me is old world lace and embroidery, though I really, really do love looking at them and imaging well laid out tables with crisp embroidered linen, lace , the right cutlery and well behaved children sitting in neatly combed hair and checked shirts. Just doesn't seem to work in my house. Bring on the auto cushion cover anytime.

Tinted glasses

WARNING: Utterly nostalgic, self-indulgent post
Couple of weeks back, I read a post where Kushal said how Calcutta, the city she grew up in and subsequently moved out of, would always be stuck in a time warp in her head. I tried to imagine Calcutta like that and couldn't. Having grown up in several cities and small towns, the city that is, and probably will always be stuck in a time warp for me is the one where I learnt how to handle growing up. Bombay. When I read Kushal's post I thought Bombay has the same effect on me as Cal has on her when she visits. I stayed in Bombay from May 1995 to March 2000 and everything I associate with the city stays fixed within those five years. When I visit Bombay now I don't want to explore Zenzi or Blue Frog or any of the new places that I keep reading and hear everyone raving about. I want to go to Toto's. Shop in OMO. And Cottonworld (yes, it's in Bangalore. But Bombay Cottonworld is different). I want to eat in Pot Pourri, Gazalee and Pizzeria. I want Bandra, Marine Drive, bhel at Worli Sea face, dosa at Khar and near Sophias and vadapao near Kirti College. Of course going with a kid means I end up not doing most of these, but what I mean to say is that Bombay for me is seen completely through tinted glasses that are very, very sepia. With unabashed nostalgia.
Bombay for me means many things. Some exciting, some fun, some sad and some downright silly. My first newspaper article and buying every copy me, the roomie and the friend I shared the byline with could find. The local train rush and the stink of home when you reached Bandra after a long day of work. Sitting on the water tank on top of your building late at night and chatting. Escaping the building eagle eye when you came home with the doodhwala after a night of pubhopping. A bunch of mismatched girls sharing beers and planning features. Trusting the autowala/cabbie to take you home even if you can't tell your left from your right. Coming to work on a Sunday and actually liking it (Beats me how. And I loved that job. Youth!) Maggi and anda bhurji dinners. Fitting seven friends, six pizza boxes, several bottles of beer and the cat in a matchbox sized room for an impromptu party. Discovering how to turn khichdi into a gourmet meal. Making thousand rupees stretch for the last five days of the month (impossible). Discovering that despite Bollywood's dire warnings, some men and women (not all) could actually just remain friends. Even if left alone for long periods. Discovering Mount Mary steps post midnight. And the mess it became during the fair. Speaking of which, there are several messy memories too, of being stood up; and worse than that, being stuck at Elphinstone station during the rains (Imagine Elphinstone station. Then imagine the entire street waste of Sayani Road and Lowest Parel flooding down its steps. Ugh.) And of course the general mess your mind is pre-25. The glasses are sepia alright and mostly happy sepia. The messy and sad bits I hope have only made me ahem...wiser.

Attitude Shattitude

I'm sorry, says the silk smooth voice, but I do not like being interviewed on the phone.

I understand. Many people don't and hey if it involves their life story, even I'd rather they share it with me face to face. But this one involves a general comment on the art scene in Bangalore. Because I work in isolation from home, I love meeting people usually but if the quote involved requires 15 minutes and doesn't require me to see something that person has created or is working on, I don't mind speaking on the phone either.

But this one seems insistent. We could meet, I say and ask her for a convenient location.

She gives me the address to her studio (she's an artist) and I do a double take.

It's in Mysore.

I have spent the last five minutes explaining to her that I'm writing this article for a local website and therefore focusing only on Bangalore based people. Perhaps she has misunderstood, perhaps she works in Mysore but lives in Bangalore. I tell her we could talk but it has to be the phone as I would be unable to get on a bus/car or vehicle of any form and get myself to Bangalore any time this week. She repeats her displeasure. I tell her I could read out every word of what she has said if she fears being misquoted.

Can you mail me a copy of the article before it's published? She asks. Sorry not possible, I say as politely as I can, trying to smile so that my voice doesn't convey the irritation I feel. Well I would need to think about it, she says, starting a diatribe about being misquoted by two newspapers and talking to a journalist for an article that never appeared. Then she asks me how many years of experience do I have and if I have written for anybody before. All for a quote that will stretch to four, maybe six lines and take 10-15 minutes.

I lose the Zen like voice just at that moment and curtly tell her thank you but perhaps I shall avoid interviewing her for the article this time. Half an hour later I get an email from her.

Would I please mail her the questions?

Nice, when attitude works. J

Aao Tweet Karein

Did try out Twitter just for fun. After updating it twice in one day (what's the point otherwise?) I ran out of words. I mean I had many words but wasn't sure if they a)made sense b)were witty and dhamakedar enough to make everyone go, wow! c)were important enough to be read on a daily basis. I mean half the time when FB asks me what's on your mind, my instant replies are: 1. Nothing 2. Sleep or how to get A to sleep by eight 3.checking out what Naughty Namita from college wore for her Goa vacation. In no particular order you understand. But of course I don't write them and rack my brain for something funny or peculiar or observant. And mostly leave the space blank. Unlike my friend D who makes caustic comments about Raj Thackeray's Marathi madness or my ex-colleague who seems to have become word warrior and is taking panga with all her exes or would have been exes on FB. Very tough. Really. And now you have Twitter to add to the jargon. Won't be surprised if staus messages and tweets start getting outsourced in a couple of days. Quite possible in fact, given the rate things are going. Phew!
***********************************************************************************
On a completely unrelated note, have started walking to maintain good health in old age. I do this right after A leaves for school which I believe is designated Walk Time for stay at home mothers. Needless to say we all bump into each other as we try to outrun each other in the Brisk Walking Around Mango Grove competition. The radio on my phone has stopped functioning and I intend to get something else to make some music. But in the meantime I have Mummytalk. This is conducted between Two Brisk Walking Mummies and covers a gamut of topics like Biology (When are you planning second baby?), History (and this is what my MIL said the morning after my marriage), Economics (How much are you paying the maid? Why so much? I only pay her xyz for two hours' work!), Humanities (They start handwriting practice in UKG in my son's school. Have they started phonics yet for Rahul?), Fine Arts (Tomorrow Ankit has to go dressed like a Mango. I've go buy chart paper) and of course General Knowledge (And which school are you finalising for your son?). So much to learn, that too just in an hour.

Days with the monkey...

Are largely spent

Being fireman


Doin 'big boy' things


Colouring furiously


And on days when mamma is in a good mood and doesn't mind the mess, even playing with mud or to put it properly 'gardening' :)

You still have the Zen?

The question threw me off balance. It was after all loaded with surprise, unsaid hints and expectation. The hint was to provide them with an explanation as to why, like most of our friends, acquaintances and social circle, we han't traded our old car for something better and obviously, bigger. The expectation was that we should have. After all, if we could dine at the Blue Ginger* and visit Umrika on holiday, the least we could do was to get ourselves a big car, couldn't we?

Nothing probably highlights aspiration levels in our society as the transition from the small to the big car. It's seen as a step towards being upper class, from small fry to higher-mid if not top management. And it's a great thing, really. Just that it may not be the top agenda on everyone's list of the moment, simply because other people feel it can catapult you into a social higher-up.

But because most people believe they need to cast you into some social slot, the car question is mandatory to ask. During a school run, I ask one of the mums living nearby if I could offer her a lift as her car has broken down. "Thanks," she says, sliding into the seat, "How does your husband commute to work? Does he take the other car?"
"This is our only car," I tell her. "Oh," she says before telling me a sweet story about her dad's Maruti she learnt to drive around in and culminating in "sent it to his dad in Delhi after we bought the (Honda) City."

Subtlety is the name of the game here. "Could you drop R home after they finish playing please? My husband's taken the other car and the Corolla has gone for servicing," says the voice on the phone. Perhaps I'm reading more than what's required into it, but I love the way the 'Corolla' is mentioned and not the other car, which being an Alto, probably doesn't cut the size limit.

Of course, as my dear husband, who's oblivious to all these innuendos (and thinks only I can hear them) believes, I could be horribly, horribly wrong and people may just be mentioning matter of fact things. But some things are a given nowadays if you need to maintain status in the society. A big car is one. And a blackberry that you need to keep checking assiduously throughout dinner with friends, whether you have emails or not is the other. And, as Parmanu mentions in his wonderful post, an apartment complex with a swimming pool is another.

* Only once in a blue moon by the way :)

Random thoughts pre and post Diwali

Being the organized woman that I am, went to Spar just the day before Diwali to shop for festival related overpriced stuff. The entire North Indian population of South Bangalore was there. Thankfully the husband was at work and the bachcha was at the playschool's Diwali party so I only had silent arguments going on in my brain and was free to watch other families as they had theirs out loud.

Number one argument was about sweets and chocolates, displayed enticingly right at the entrance. The husband would pick up the glossiest looking choco box and the wife would immediately take it out and plonk it back where it was. 'You also na...this is just overpriced bad chocolate. Thoda classy type kuch dena chahiye,' she would say, before walking briskly to the fridge where they displayed a few forlon looking boxes of Lindt.

Found myself mentally agreeing with her. There's nothing worse that glitter paper golden ribbon wrapped flimsy chox in a box. Though I find even Cadburys classy, not just Lindt.

There was also a mother daughter (or saas bahu?) duo who were buying expensive cookie packets and the older woman was saying things like, yeh mehenga wala packet le lo. At which the daughter (DIL?) pointed to her trolley and replied, Mamma, these are also equally expensive, don't worry.

Nice, no?

At the diya counter a family of mother, father and daughter were having their own argument though this being in Kannada there was no point in me pretending to browse and listen. But gestures say a lot and the father was clearly being asked to keep out of the selection process. Felt really bad for men at that point. The poor things really can't tell good from the bad and have to still suffer being carted around shopping malls just for the sake of their wallets. Tch tch.

----------------------***************************-----------------------------

Read Chetan Bhagat's latest book, 2 States. Have to say that despite the editing bloopers (I think Rupa editors sleepwalk through Chetan Bhagat edits now. They know it will sell) and the somewhat amateurish writing at times, I enjoyed it and finished it in a day flat. This was my second CB book after One Night At The Call Centre (I think the only person who liked it was Salman Khan) which the husband bought after he ahem, liked Five Point Someone. You get the gist.
So I basically bought this one for the husband who has ignored it for the last two days and concentrated on a bunch of printouts called Eastern European power line or something like that. There's much to like (or rather laugh) in the book (2 states not powerline). For one it is Rs. 95 only. Secondly, it is full of stereotypes but as we all know, stereotypes are ALWAYS true. My favourite was the Punjabi one about mentioning the amount of wealth and money in casual conversations. It's a trait fully followed by any self respecting Delhiite (Punju, Baniya, Jain) and conversations between some relatives I know often go like, 'Guddo itni ziddi hai behenji. Uske liye hum assi lakh ki shaadi karane ko tayar hai par use ladka pasand aye tab na.'
Nobody feels the slightest embarassment in asking others how much they earn or how much their kothis and cars cost. And of course I too don't think anybody has ever read the edit page of any newspaper.
The Bongs by constrast read every possible edit page (starting with the sports page) and buy every fat pujobarshiki they can lay their hands on and definitely cannot think of aath, forget assi lakh but would be most offended if you gifted their child an envelope with Rs. 251 instead of a book on their happy budday. And the monkey cap maybe a perennial Bong stereotype but it's also the universal truth. Last year my cousin who lives in Brussels sent some winter pictures. In between all the fireplace, frosted window and whiteness was her son, sporting the eternal monkey cap. So you see, stereotypes are not just fun. They are true.
Ok I digressed but this ain't a review so I guess I can. 2 States a Bollywood movie in waiting and it's fun (and as Inky says somewhere, cheaper than a movie ticket) and I think there are bits in it that stand true for any marriage that involves two very disparate states and cultures. Good going, except for the editing and the India lecture.