Random

It's one of those days when I have to key in 2000 words by tomorrow which means I get going tonight. True to tradition have written only 20 words so far and have spent the last hour watching The World's Extreme Restrooms on TV and finding things like http://recipes.bbclifestyle.com/. Given that I drive myself and the girl who helps me around at home batty wondering what to cook everyday I sure need this. Though I wish they had a section on India too. Much as we love Seafood pasta and Summer couscous salad, a life without dal really isn't sustainable for too long. At least in this household. Off to watch Castle on Star World now. The husband is away on work and the son is asleep and though the double decker words need to be written, procrastination is too long a warning to remember!
Oh and by the way finally found a copy of Embroideries by Marjane Satrapi at Blossoms. See that's what I love about Blossoms. The good children at Landmark would ask you to pronounce Satrapi five times as you resisted the urge to type the name yourself and save them the trouble of remembering their alphabets. They'd then possibly announce they're out of copies or disappear in the pretext of finding the book. At Blossoms, you simply park yourself on the ground floor, point to a copy of Persepolis and ask in a rather distracted manner if they have that 'book called embroideries' by her and it materialises like magic in two minutes. Neat haan?

Of crazy tarantulas and bloody oranges

Cannot get myself to like Quentin Tarantino's movies (will be cold shouldered by brother for the rest of my life now). In my mind, they are all jumbled up in a profusion of profanities and guns. And the overdose of gore is a big turn-off. I never understood Reservoir Dogs (bunch of men abusing each other in warehouses and cars) and though I did sit through Pulp Fiction I think that was mainly because of Travolta and Thurman, both of whom I love. Managed to watch Kill Bill 2 up to the point where Thurman kills her former fellow assassin and tells the little daughter she'll have her chance of revenge later. Would've probably gone ooh and aah at such coldly sassy attitude earlier in life but by the time I watched the movie I was a mom and had started turning teary jelly at any suggestion of cruelty to kids in any movie.

Which brings me to the koshchen that who decides which movie is great and which isn't? Because what you like and dislike is so subjective. Remember queasily sitting through Clockwork Orange in my mass communications film class as the slightly unwashed documentary filmmaker taking the course gushed over it. Couldn't even close eyes halfway and pretend to watch all that blood and gore as had to dissect film after that. Your call that classic cinema? Yeah sure. Just like Tarantula's Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs is called one of the top independent cult films ever? Vat nonsense. At least in my world. Gimme In The Mood for Love or Rashomon or Breathless or Lost in Translation anyday over Tarantino's capers. At least they do not have psychotic men trying to cut each other's ears as justification of crazy plot that involves four different gangsters doing four different shootouts in a disco/warehouse/church all the while going f*#k, f*#k, f*#k, f*#k. My thoughts exactly. Yeah.

In Bombay...

...For the week with the boy. This time the brother has shifted conveniently to Bandra so the bad mamma is dragging the boy around, showing him her old playground. And guess what he's mesmerised with? The street food vendors. Of course, he is far from trying anything out yet but he loves standing in front of the sandwichwala, bhelwala and dosawala to see how thy work. His eyes go wide as they deftly go about slapping chutney-butter-aloo on bread and circle dosa batter nonstop on the tawa. He also loves what he thinks are very fancy 'machines' even if it's the just-pressed sugarcane juice his mother would stay miles away from after a college time gastro scare.
All this awe and admiration has made me suddenly realize the lack of street food scene in Bangalore. At least a visible one. Sure you have the nariyalpani vendor and the peanut and fruit sellers but those aren't essentially streetside junk, like Delhi's Chole Kulchas or Momos or golgappe and the abovementioned lot in Bombay. In Bangalore, you're better off walking into a darshini or KFC for a quick hog. In the last five years I don't recall eating anything exciting at a street vendor and no, Empire's late night chicken dosa doesn't count. That's a shop. Street food, as it thrives in Delhi, Bombay and Calcutta is surely missing in Bangalore. Wonder why is it so? Or am I wrong? Any idea, Bangaloreans who perhaps still read this blog? Any street food memories in the city that you think I missed? Please to tell.

In Vombay]

Was asking A to eat his vegetables (carrots really) when he declared that he positively hated them and asked me why I was eating mine. "To grow strong," I said, giving the standard boring Mummy answer. "For what strong?" he demanded to know and when I was silent for a second provided the answer: "Oh to shout."
Did not know whether to laugh or cry or be proud of son's excellent sense of humour like good Indian mother. The husband, predictably enough, was in splits. And once I stopped choking on my peas, couldn't help but think is that how he sees me really? The mamma who's always shouting? The mamma whose favourite word is No?
Did not get too emotional about it as by the time your child is four and half you know that kids really do say the wildest things. So quite a pro at this by now, though this is the first time very teenager style, let's poke fun of mamma comment has happened. If anyone needs a self help cum how to boost your spirits book it's us moms. Perhaps I'll write one. Hmmm....

Why do they call it water cooler moment?

Why not the Chai Wala Gossip or Ciggie Break Talks. Think the Water Cooler is a very foreign concept but some people (esp the kind who think it will make them sound witty) do end up using it. Met a former finance guy ("Wall Street is an addiction") who kept talking of the "watercooler moments" that inspired him to start the venture he's now running. 'Wait a sec,' I wanted to tell him, 'All you guys ever did in that swanky office was buzz around the watercooler? Didn't anyone ever want chai or coffee or a soggy sandwich or even an artery-choking mayo-rich salad at the cafeteria?'

To me, a Watercooler conjures memories of school on hot afternoons when everybody's bottles had dried up and the area around the watercooler would be stamped with muddy shoeprints, lost hankerchiefs or bottle caps. We would let the cold water trickle down our throat, inside and outside and hope to God the PT Sir wouldn't make us play Kabaddi in the hot sun. That is the image I have. Certainly not of a workplace gossip session. That usually involves a certain amount of milk powder ki Chai, watery Nescafe and a lot of smoke.

In every place that I have worked, gossip sessions invariably bring to mind the office staircase or as many would call it, the fire escape. Whether you smoked or not, it was the place to escape when you wanted to bitch about the new babe who wore so much mascara it looked as if she had it surgically inserted or the boss who had no idea how long it took to travel from Bhayandar to VT. Does anyone ever think of watercooler? Now that I freelance and spend most of my working hours at home, I'm wondering what could be my chai escape equivalent and there's only one sad answer: The kitchen!

Kyunki Main Us Din Bilkul Free Thi

This is what happens when a deprived woman like me has the house TV to herself and no work on hand. Watched TV nonstop and discovered the following facts of life:

1. Little boy Aditya Narayan has grown up, lost weight and turned horror film hero
   
2. Katrina's hand wave in Rajneeti is exactly like you know who (yes I didn't know even that)
   
3. Poor Arbaaz has finally got Malaika to do some naach gana with him in a film cheesily titled Prem Ka Game. Chee chee
   
4. Ze famous Barbara Mori doesn't look all that hot. At least to me. Think this will be a big dud.
   

GK lesson over I switched on to the serials to see what depths our society had plummeted to and got thoroughly confused. Every second serial featured a havan or a mandir or a heavily veiled bahu with too much sindoor or a tense looking boy trying to talk to a tense looking girl in churidar and choodha. If you do not know what those italics are, do a google search. I'm too lazy for translations. Anyway, all that mandir and mangalsutra overdose made me wonder if serial writers ever met people from other communities and religions. Probably not. They probably also attend the same school of headlines serial titles. That explains the names which sound suspiciously same no matter which channel you switch to. You could almost make up a story with these. Since I'd nothing better to do, apart from updating myself with Anandi's wellbeing in Balika Badhu (very updated with the serial after Mint's plug last week), I suffered surfed Colors, Star Plus, NDTV Imagine, Star One, Zee and wrote a weird letter. Read at your own risk. And if you are a TV moron like me, yes, these are all names :

Sabki Ladli Bebo,

Hum hai Do Saheliyan: Kismat ki kathputliyan. Waise to Sasural Genda Phool Hai par Kabhi to Raja Ki Ayegi Baraat aur tum kahoge Saajan Ghar Jaana Hai. Kyunki har ladki ka Sapna hai Babul ka Bidaai. Jaldi hi tum banoge Do hanso ka joda. Ab na rahega tera kagaz kora. Kyunki tumhe Rehna hai Palkon ki chaon mein. Kyunki Sabki Jodi wohi banata, bhagyavidhata.

• Have lost all readership now.
  
• Alwida
  

 

 

 

Made payesh (Bengali for rice pudding) the other day. Here it is:

Nothing monumental about it except that I'm now officially my mother. Growing up, payesh was the answer to everything in our house. Birthdays? Anniversary? Overnight guests? Is-there-anything-sweet-at-home cravings? Payesh it was. To be fair to mom, she also baked cakes, made fish in white sauce, malpuas and various other things but payesh was and still is her signature offering. Post marriage, when I started calling up mom to get recipes in my usual loving manner (but why do I beat the butter and sugar together? Why not everything? Why do you make everything so complicated?) I would steer clear of payesh. Or for that matter macher jhol (Bengali fish curry) and anything standardly mundane that I scoffed at as a kid/teen. It's different now of course. Age has taken over and is fast turning me into my mom as I keep repeating stuck record like. Macher jhol is made at home at least twice a week. The only difference with mom's is that hers is more regularly made and tastes a hundred times better. And now there's the payesh. It's a good thing I thought while stirring it that day. Stays in the fridge long enough to keep the hungry husband happy and doesn't look too bad when served in a nice bowl if there are guests. Now let's see what else is there in the mother's repertory of the mundane that I haven't tried yet....ummm...aloo bhaja? Is there something your mom made that you scoffed at as a kid for being too regular but found yourself cooking later in life? Am I the only one?

Search me

Thanks to God Google (term not invented by me) I learn new things eveyday. For instance, yesterday I was searching for 2009's bestsellers to send somebody a list and came across an entire world of books that were unknown to me. Did you know that Abraham Lincoln was a vampire hunter? Nah? Then how about Elizabeth Bennett? Did you know she was part of Zombie warfare? Well I didn't. And while I was hiding under a rock, a guy called Seth Grahame-Smith was putting zombies in Mr Darcy's pants and bloodsuckers elsewhere and striking mega deals worth $575,000 with publishers. Oh and he also went on the New York Times Bestseller list says the Guardian. Strange are the ways of the world indeed. Shall bare my fangs the next time anyone makes fun of my collection of Marian Keyes, Sophie Kinsella or for that matter, Georgette Heyer.

Strange how some women will spend thousands on creating jwalry they don't really need but will balk at giving 500 extra bucks per month to the maid. Just a thought.

The Dalli

A source of much entertainment to the kiddo. Whether from the car or the metro.

Nice, no?

And the cows go marching on...

Somehow it's only in Delhi that I spot signs that say Dupattein hi Dupattein, Pancard hi Pancard, Bhature hi Bhature, and so on. Have you spotted these anywhere else in India? Please to educate me then. In this case, Satman auto in Karol Bagh clearly has an abundance of Vikrams.

Duniya badal gayee hai par cameramen at filmi award shows haven't changed. Bas, the stars have. Nowadays, instead of the Amitabh dancing-pan to Rekha and vice versa routine they have a wide range of faces to choose from:
Shahid dancing
a)Pan to Kareena
b)Pan to Vidya
c)Pan to Amrita (Rao not Singh)

Kareena dancing
a)Pan to Shahid
b)Pan to Saif

Katrina dancing
a)Pan to Neetu Singh
b)Pan to....oh ok...both Salman and Ranbir are not around, spoilsports

Salman dancing
a)Pan to Ash
b) Pan to Kat...oh no...she's smart and has fled home

Oh and there's Rekha again in all her Kanjivarammmmd glory. Amitabh is going up on the stage.
Samai badla par kuch cheezein nahi badli.

So much fun no? Better than spending money at expensive parlour just to read Stardust because it would be against self-respect and dignity to actually go and pick it up from the stands. That's why award shows are perfect. Ek to unsaid gossip, woh bhi muft mein!

The What To Expect ladies should write another book. This time titled, What To Expect: Activity Classes for Your Preschooler and The Best Way To Time Manage Them. Then again, we would require our own Indian version of the book. Don't think they have Shloka & Scriptures classes in New York do they? Or who knows, maybe they do. NRIs after all, are more desi than us desis in desiland.
To get back to the classes, they require serious time-management, making some of the class toting mommies into multi-tasking-driving-commuting women par excellence.
"I'm in Bombay! Let's meet," I yelled excitedly on the phone to my friend S. "Oh God," she exhaled regretfully, "Kyra has her ballet today at 3. Could you make it now?"
"How about tomorrow?" I persisted.
"We could do a quick coffee at about 11. Post noon I need to take Shivam for the Robotics class and then at 3...." Kyra has her ballet, I completed.
"No yaar," S was a bit irritated by my lack of knowledge. "Ballet (Improves posture)is only on Tuesdays. Wednesday is Shloka (Improves Indianness) and Friday is Swimming (Improves life-skill). We are free on Thursday though as her Art & Craft teacher is on holiday."
See how difficult it is? Not just the time management part but also the bit about meeting. Especially if you wish to meet a mommy to a preschooler and have one at home yourself. You need to discuss and juggle schedules like school, lunch, nap, playdates and of course, Shloka, Gym and Ballet Class. All unavoidable and sacrosanct. Trust me, it's tough.
Back home in Bengaluru, I get a call from K. Her son and mine are the same age. Which she thinks makes us mothers in arms when it comes to the class system.
"I spoke to the swimming sir. He can take them in the new batch starting soon, every Wednesday and Friday. This leaves Tuesday and Thursday free for Piano lessons (improves music skill) or Speech and Drama (improves confidence), whatever you want to choose."
Choose? Let me breathe first.
Totally Martian when it comes to this part of motherhood. Come undone just dropping and picking up the child from school and live in complete nightmare of not checking diaries and forgetting life-changing assignments like 'Make a decorative object out of waste materials lying around the house.' And this is when he doesn't leave for school at crack of dawn (yet) or have uniform (yet) or homework (yet). But I try for sure. After all, do not want son be left behind in learning important lifeskills. Now excuse me while I call up the girl who teaches skating. Improves balance.

Watching Luck By Chance on TV. How come Hindi movie strugglers always manage to find sunny, breezy homes in Mumbai? That too complete with terrace big enough to keep a sofa in (like Konkona's in Luck) or with fab sea view (again Konkona, in Wake Up Sid). What happened to the damp walls, leaky taps, cracky bathrooms eh? Though Wake Up Sid's chai on paani ki tanki on the terrace was rather realistic.
Went to Toto's after ages (like last Dec) and got the shock of life on my way to Bandra from Worli. Came out of the Sealink at Lilavati and could see nothing but a sea of cars all the way to Hill Road. Took forever to reach. And zipped through Highway-Sealink when I did Malad-Worli the next day. Strange are the ways of Bombay traffic.

Back from Goa. Did not take laptop along and did not visit business centre either. To add icing to the cake, phone also decided not to work on roaming. Needless to say, had fabulous time, with no calls from best friends like Airtel and Tata Aig Life Insurance or texts from Body Care and VLCC.
Was back in Goa during Christmas after 15 years though it wasn't quite planned that way and realised it all looked rather beautiful, especially if you went driving around at night with practically every house draped in starry lights. Of course this was probably because we stayed away from Baga with its way too many lights and stayed in Utorda, which though populated this time of the year, at least gives you enough space to move around in the hotel pool, the beach, etc. And the village is a beautiful one with old houses, winding roads, lots of green...you get the picture. Made the mistake of dragging self, husband, sleeping child (am kind mother) and brother to the Saturday night flear market in Arpora and ruined relations with entire family by getting stuck in the longest traffic jam of our lives. Wasn't impressed with much heard about and hyped flea market (which I ran and saw while they sat stuck in the car) that seemed to be great place to shop if a)you never visit quiant, quirky stores selling silk drawstring totes for 5000 bucks in your own city
b)this is your first time in India and you never visit quiant, quirky stores selling silk drawstring totes for equivalent dollar/euro amount in your own city
c)You don't mind rubbing shoulders (and other body parts) with 600000 people descended from Bombay and other parts of India to buy things like sequined cushions, mirrorwork elephants and beaded curtains exactly like the ones you get in your hometown.
d)You are from foreign and seeing 'excotic Indian' for the first time.
Wasn't any of the above so came back empty handed.
Spent an hour and more waiting inside Dabolim airport seeing off the inlaws and waiting for the brother to arrive. Spotted Salman Rushdie or lookalike who was with sons and the smirk. Far more interesting was observing honeymooning couples on their way in/out of Goa in jeans and trendy tops accessoried with mangalsutra, chooda and other jewellery. Depending on whether they were incoming or outgoing, the mangalsutra stayed off and jeans came on. Also spotted some oversized sunglasses and LV/Birkin type bags, courtesy the Mumbai flights. Wrote many posts in head (even tried one Parmanu type moody observation piece) but all forgotten in beer-sand-fish combo. All in all, best airport watch in a long time.
Off to bed now. You have a great 2010.

The days are just packed

One of the reasons why I haven't updated. Also have been busy with stuff to do for home and work. Off on holiday next week to Goa (yes we really cannot think of any other destination but what the heck, it makes me happy) and a bit panic stricken as the entire family is going in one car. That means the husband, me, the son and the in-laws. Have gone crazy shopping for different dietary needs and restrictions to keep us fed and satiated through the 11-12 hour road trip. Chocos/fruit/honey loops and whatever else Kellogs can throw at me in a coloured, sugary form for the son; namkeen and chivda packets for the MIL who (I think) likes being surrounded by food once she is seated inside a vehicle and on a highway; juice packets and tetrapack shakes for the milk fiend son; things to munch for the husband who I plan to keep happy as he's going to drive me to places like Florentines and Literati and my friend house in Altinho and keeps asking if there's anything 'interesting' to eat while driving long trips.

Utterly envy those people who can decide at night that they are going to take the car and drive off to places 10 hour away in the morning and do nothing more than pack a few clothes and toothbrush. Used to think of myself as one of those cool types till I popped out a child and realized I'm the most hyper, overprotective, what-if type people I'd ever met. I'm a packing maniac who needs therapy, especially before a car trip. Box of tissues? Check. Wipes? Check? Change of clothes just in case he spills water? Check. Change for change of clothes just in case he spills the tetrapack juice? Check. Pillow? Check. Blankets? Check? Books, handheld game, colouring and activity stuff? Check. More books, activities and colouring stuff just in case the first lot don't work? Check. Every available and portable food item he likes to eat? Check. Scissors, just in case I need to cut something? Check. Torch, just in case we got stranded in the middle of a forest? Check.

This time the in laws have been added to the list, turning me into an utter nut. Like I said, they also come with certain diet restrictions and though they are spending only two days in Goa and the hotel assured me they'll discover new heights in Jain culinary requirements within that time span, I am still in the packing nut territory. Nobody in the family has insisted on being equipped with their own personal mini diner cum bedroom cum walk in closet in the car either. But I'm a woman on the run. Cannot help it. Tomorrow I think I'll stock up on some Haldirams, including instant bhelpuri mix. And perhaps some tea bags for emergencies like when the hotel room ones get over and room service takes too long. Just in case.

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!
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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.