Lapses of lingy…

Indulging in a variety of Goan specials…sorportel, spicy pork sausages, vindaloo, rechado pompfrets and a whole lot of more sinful stuff…

more on that later

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10…9…8… 

It’s my last day at the old office and the countdown begins. In half an hour I will have to bid adios and enter a new chapter.

 How do I feel?

Happy yet melancholic…I was here for 2 years and 3 months and I grew and learnt so much.

A trip to Bangalore, one dysfunctional relationship and many email wars of words later, it’s time to say goodbye.

Off to Goa to recuperate from the sights and sounds of Mumbai…have a wedding to attend…should be fun…

Life is waiting for me…and in the word of Scarlett O’Hara, ” After all, tomorrow is another day.”

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My eyes seek the sights of tomorrow.

Why can’t that faraway moment come and redeem me now?

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Job Switch

Have quit my job and here’s the mail I zipped across to all my colleagues…also got some interesting feedback from people:

” Hey guys,

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 My Funny Little Family

2 nights of no sleep and here I am all sleepy, groggy-eyed, and with wandering mind. Woke up at 5:15 this morning, a zombie hour in Mumbai winter. Twas’ dark as night. I fumbled in the moonlight for my clothes, bag and things, lest I wake up the roomie. Was at the airport on the dot of 6 only to discover that the flight was delayed. Anyways, the excitement of meeting the parents & sis and the prospect of giving them some good news was very inspiring.  

Mum, dad and sis looked exactly the same as when I saw them last, though dad has a new acquisiton – a spiffy looking black leather handbag. He is a simple man who epitomizes simple living and high thinking, yet he is also a man of style, with impeccable taste in clothes, shoes and other lifestyle accessories.  He’s also a very liberal man who has always been extremely supportive of all my eccentricities. In fact I think he is the ideal man, a mix of good humour, maturity, liberation and strenght of character. His only failing is that he is sometimes hot-headed and when in such a state of mind blurts out the first thing that comes to his head ( mum, myself and sis are at the receiving end) , and usually these thoughts are not that pleasant. We had a winding tete-a-tete about life and it’s complexities.

My mother typically wears these stonewashed jeans which are her trademark travel pants. She has a retro look about her, straight out of the 80’s! She is still worried about my figure and also about the fact that my face is looking plumper every since I grew my hair. To that my cool dad replies,” It does not matter how you look, what matters is whether you have personality and how you carry yourself.” Hats off to dad! Anyways, my indulgent mum brought a truckload of stuff for me like shampoo, lotion, nightclothes etc, just in case there might a consumerist famine here in Mumbai. This reminds me of an incident from my my student days. 

I was stuffing two suitcases with toiliteries, clothes and other things before dashing off to University Of Pune to pursue my Masters In Communication Studies. My mum eyed the mess of products strewn all over the place and let out a sigh. I asked mum what she was getting all nostalgic about. Apparently when she went to “Poona”( the erstwhile Pune) to complete her BA at Wadia college, she carried just 2 dresses. After reaching “Poona”, to her chagrin she discovered that ”Poona” gals were the height of fashion and here she was with a mere change of attire. But times were hard and clothes cost money. So during her hols back in Goa, in a desperate attempt to keep pace with the fickle world of fashion, she bought fabric and stitched 2 new dresses…herself. Here I was greedily lapping up so many goodies as if on my way to Somalia. It was a significant moment for me, because self-realization dawned. I was turning into a true-blue consumerist…or was I already there?

Coming, back to my morning tryst with the folks. My sis was looking as groggy-eyed as I. She’s a bit of a posh princess, prefering the lap of luxury to the chaotic existence I live in Mumbai. She squirms at dirt, crowds and trains and beams at luxury. But we do have a thing to two in common. For instance she is as stubborn a mule as I am, and one has to be, or else where is the passion? On the other hand she finds peace in caring for mentally challenged kids and is in fact very comfortable in their presence. She works as a volunteer in a school for such kids and is very good at what she does.

Chatted with them for 3 hours and then it was time for them to be on their way to Goa. Will catch up with them next week,  by then my life should assume a semblance of order.

Yet another goodbye…sigh!

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If My Middle Name Was ‘Abundancia’

For a long time now, I have been planning to buy a cherry red leather bag, but the right design just eludes me. It must be spacious and stylish and come with an impeccable finish. Cherry red is one of my favourite colours ( next only to turqouise blue). It reminds me of christmas, my favourite time of the year when cherry reds springs forth everywhere.

Spotted a swelte looking one from Hidesign the other day. My heart skipped a beat when I set eyes on it and the inner voice in my head said ’This Is The One”…but this pal of mine has been promising to buy me a classic leather number from Dharavi, the biggest slum dwelling of Asia as well as the leather capital for quality & reasonably priced leather goods in all sizes, styles and colours.

I do not know how women deal with little nos, but the size of my bag is usually BIG, in propotion with my appetite, dimensions and thinking. This is because the contents of my bag are many - book, fruit, diary, wallet, makeup, deo, documents, cell phone, keys etc etc etc. Thus the need for space in  abundance. 

My paternal grandmother’s name was ‘Abundancia’ which means abundance in Portuguese. I missed being named after her by a cat’s whisker. But my sister wasn’t as lucky. Her name is in fact Janice Abundancia Diniz. If it wasn’t so, there might have been a family fued, because Goan grannies always want their grandkids to be named after them and my mum was a bit of a mule first time round.

Imagine being called Merril ‘Abundancia’ Diniz…the bullies at school would have had a field day and my cousin Sandeep would have ribbed me to death( he does as it is already).

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New Age Attitudes

* More and more people prefer solitude and the prospect of never commiting to one single person ever.

* People eat junk and then invest a bomb in trying to shed the kilos.

* The formality of the west is setting in. I need to call before I pop over to anyone’s house.

* Consumerism…it’s taking the world by storm.

* It’s cool to get a tattoo or so they say.

Are we turning into self-absorbed, self-indulgent, mechanical robots?

Every fourth person I meet these days wants to know which nightclubs I visit. They eye my ancient Nokia 5510 with suspicion, and one socialite looked like she was going to have a stroke when I said I work at a place called Sewri.

My ex-roommate( a nice person in general), keeps saying this is ‘classy’ and this is ‘not classy’ and this is ‘HS’( high society) and this is ‘LS’( low society). 

Why do people have to be so pretentious? Through my teens and in my early twenties I tried to be something I was not and suffered from bouts of low self-esteem because of my own efforts to match up to the people around me.

Thank goodness I live in Mumbai. Living in Delhi would have proved to be a nightmare. People are flashy. Men are chuavinistic. And you could get shot in a nightclub.

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Latrine Thinking: How To Disinfect Your NOKIA Handset

He went to the loo and suddenly heard a plop…his Nokia handset was lying at the bottom of the potty ( not a western loo but an Indian one), a shiny, rectangular piece of metal glistening afloat. 

He was horrified! But there was not a minute to waste and his presence of mind was galvanized into action. And for good reason, this was his 3rd handset. He had lost the other two. Besides, he was expecting a call any minute. Images of the neon screen flashing while it lay in the water, unnerved him.

He rushed out and summoned the janitor, simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of a colleague in the process of relieving himself in the next loo. The word spread and soon there was pandemonium outside as a little group congregated to share in the excitement. Anything to brighten up a dreary day at work.

He returned with the janitor only to find that some unsuspecting chap had just entered. He was hauled out.

The janitor took charge and began to inspect the potty. He took some wire and strategically tried to extract the set, but in vain. My pal coaxed the janitor to slip on some plastic bags, dip his hand into the depths of the loo and handpick the set. He did just that. 

IT WAS OUT…but now what? How does one touch a stinky cellphone?

My friend resquested his buddy the janitor to please dismantle the instrument. This godsend individual on his instruction then took the phone apart piece by piece, and held each under the dryer. I forget the exact sequence of events, but I think he dipped some tissue in soap and then cleaned each piece individually. Once done, some deoderant was sprayed on each piece and then instrument was pieced back together.

He silently prayed that it would work. He switched it on…the neon screen lit up! It worked…thank god for the hardiness of NOKIA handsets!

My precautious friend then proceeded to dip a napkin in dettol and wipe the exterior of the phone.

Voila…the handset was completely disinfected and what’s more now smelt of perfume! The janitor was aptly compenated for his handiness.

My friend’s name is Altafand hats of to him for elevating meticulousness to the status of an art. Am trying to learn a thing or two from him. Good going!

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How Do I Deal With The ‘Forces’?

Have been subject to a barrage of verbal diaorrhea in the past few days…and it is confusing…in fact even disturbing…because I am not always able to express in so many words.

I sometimes come across as being meek and mild…but that is exactly what I am not…silence is not a sign of vulnerability or indecision. I believe that less is more and I do not have to repeat my stand like a broken tape-recorder.

The immediate task at hand is not to let my voice be drowned in the drone of babbling voices which now have started to echo even in my self-concious.

It is easy to be brainwashed into to continuing with the tasks that no longer have a meaning in my life. These tasks have become obselete and must be done away with. But the transition is not proving to be easy.

Sigh!…

Anyways, for those of you are reading this…Sandeep, Paul, Altaf, Sana, Meera etc etc etc thanks for bearing up with my philosophical spiel…will be back to my usual shallow self in the next few hours.

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Stylehopping ^TM   - We Infuse The Style In Your Shopping!

My pal Meera and myself have contributed a novel concept to the world — Stylehopping. We stop short women from buying horizontal stripes, ban wordly-unwise chaps from buying expensive yet characterless jeans. 

We style you from the grassroot level, when you shop…and help to avert any impending style disasters. More on this concept tom.

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