Last night I had a bizaare dream. I remember some of the elements quite vividly. I went on some sort of trip with a huge bunch of people. There were kids, moms and dads too and we were all travelling together in a big Volvo type of bus.
There was arson, and I was a witness to the crime. I remember grappling with my conscience as to whether I should get involved in the police investigation or not.
I remember there being fish. Lots of it on the pavement as well as on the bonnet of a car.
Sometimes you have so much to say, but the words to say them elude you. Thoughts that are funny, serious, silly and profound, all swirl around in your brain at lightening speed. But when they collide, you feel like laughing with gay abandon. The tension dissipates and is replaced by a lightness of being.
Goodness, I am rambling on like a garrulous old crank (a handy phrase by the great Saki Munro).
Today I called up a friend to wish her for her B’day. Apparently she turned 28. So, she began whining (in a very good-humoured sort of way) about getting older. For some strange reason, I thought she was still 25. Maybe that’s because she has a petite frame and always manages to look trendy in a preppy-style Mango ensemble. I said, ” Wow…now you are closer to my age…29,”. A colleague at work was shocked to learn of my age. She thought I was 25/26 (and it’s not because I am immature). The figure 29 I suppose sounded a death knell in her mind.
Which brings me to the concept of age. I hate to repeat the cliche: you are as young as you feel. I couldn’t care less about feeling young, but I feel alive in a way that I never felt when I was in school or college or even in my earlier work life because back then I was too self-concious and sometimes a little self-destructive to savour anything. Back then the simple wisdom that one has to make things happen, eluded me.
I think that this is the prime of my life and age is no substitute for that exquisite feeling of being alive. It puts a spring in your step, a glow in your skin and a tinge of optimism in your tone. That feeling that even if things don’t work out the way you want them to in your relationships or at work, it makes sense to take that risk and fall flat on your face. After that you just pick yourself up and then the peices, because there are new horizons just waiting to be discovered.
BIG BAZAAR should be renamed BAD BAZAAR or BAD BIZARRE or BIG B-I-T-C-H.
About a month back I purchased a computer table, a neat black and brown peice that resembles a curio stand rather than a computer table (it’s a good thing). They were to deliver it to me in about 10 days’ time. It just arrived yesterday, after much prodding and yelling and screaming like a banshee at callous staff. I felt exasperated by such treatment and threathened to write to the CEO and play the journo card too.
The peice is yet to be dismantled and still lay in a box on the floor of my room. The fitter is supposed to come today, but I seriously doubt he will. I am not planning to take it apart myself. After all, if there’s a defect they might just not take my word for it.
That’s THE last time I deal with the Big B(LUFF) of retail.
New roommates mean new influences. One roomie offered me style advice — I was her makeover project. And she was good. Another was a graduate in Literature and spoke with love about Shakespeare’s works and how one must read between the lines to gauge the true profundity of his prose. Read quite a few classics (not Shakespeare though when I knew her). Another was a party animal, who love being spontaneous and to shake a leg. So, we went dancing a lot and I became more spontaneous, too. Then there was another who loved to clean, so I became tidier under her tutelage. Anotherwas adventurous and bold. I became bold too. Have learnt something valuable from everyone of them. Even that one girl who was shallow — I learnt that I never want to be like her. Basically, I am a sum total of all these influences today.
The tarot predicted that the world is my oyster. Hmmm…more like my fried chicken. Hit the gym yesterday for about 45 minutes. Post the workout. a colleague and me decided to go to Subway, where I would eat lettuce and he would at anything with bacon in it. But then the taxi took a detour and before I knew it we were parked bang opposite KFC. We placed our order and then argued for a bit about which was the hot ‘n’ spicy variant. For some bizarre, unexplainable reason nothing tasted hot nor spicy to me. Are my taste buds getting warped? By the way did a KANK-inspired story on relationships, wanted it to be a diary peice. But one’s job does not always allow such luxuries. I mean I know that the film is full of flaws but it did drive home some good observations about romantic relationships.
The folks are playing cupid and have participated in one such ’set-up’. I suppose they need to feel that they are doing. Besides, they are such reasonable, sweet people that I agreed to indulge them. Yesterday I told mum that this person I met through a family intervention is geeky. “Geeky…er…what is that?,” she asked, quizzically. I smiled 
The poor fellow was really looking for a sweet, Goan gal to settle down with. Neither am I sweet, nor are my sensibilities pure Goan. Tough luck for him. Lucky for me.
