Lapses of lingy…

Thank goodness for sensible moms. Who can put seemingly complex dynamics in perspective, point out objectively when the people in your life are full of crap. And incidently when you are full  of crap too. 

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My friend’s Arya Samaj-style wedding had about 12 people in attendence. In fact it was the first ’small’ wedding I’ve been to that could actually qualify as small. 

Most people who dream of  an intimate little soiree with just close friends and family, inevitably end up with the world and it’s grandmother in attendance. Hence, this occasion was rather  refreshing. Short and sweet, too. And interactive; the pundit threw in a couple of questions for the groom, and managed to get the audience to chip in with smart quips, too.

Post the wedding, a single guy friend and I got thinking about marriage and why people dive into the institution. More importantly, do they enjoy being married? In my experience, many married men are willing to stray at the drop of a hat. I’m not sure why they do it. My buddy’s married friends apparently envy him, and wish they were still single, and free to do as they please. That’s the worrying thing. Why does marriage have to alter one’s life so drastically?

We both decided that when it’s out turn to say ‘I do’, we will have to formulate a whole set of new rules for this institution. Since, he’s an athiest, he plans to elope. Save on time, energy, money. Throw a party when he gets back.

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Yesterday I spoke to a dear friend who just returned from the US. Her father is very ill and her entire family is having a hard time.

She sounded harrowed, frustrated, and I felt empathy swelling up within me, as she related her experiences. It transported me back to the two times my dad was hospitalized.

Looking back, I realise that those among my friends who were most empathetic, have seen the same suffering of family at close quarters, experienced the gloomy, chaotic, unpredictable world of hospitals, doctors, mediclaim, blood banks, and the long, tedious wait for some sort of eventuality. Empathy has an equal place next to action, when it comes to tragedies like these.

For a change I knew what to say, and feel, sans the stuttering and empty questions we tend to ask, when trying our darn best to console friends, in their darkest moments. We may have the best intentions, but sans action or empathy, we really can’t do jack.

In a place like Mumbai, it is so easy to be divorced from the hardships experienced by others. I don’t blame people – I was in the same place before, awhile back.

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Most lacklustre Gtalk conversation of the millennium:

Moi: hey there. howz you?

Boring but nice guy:  m fine. howz u bn?

Merril: good good.what’s the buzz?

Boring but nice guy: nuthin khas.u temme

Moi: nuthin khas .aren’t we all ush boring old foggies

Boring but nice guy: wot happend?

Moi: nuthin.that’s the problem.:)

Boring but nice guy: hmm. wassup wth u?

Moi: same old crap.

Boring but nice guy: y so?

Moi: Arre nuthin yaar.

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I have a new ‘girlfriend’ on my ‘gaydar’. Gaydar is a hybrid of ‘gay + radar’, this girlfriend who is a gay guy informs me. Educational!
 

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On the first day of swimming, I felt like a dead duck after a measly three laps. And I had several septuagenarians and octogenarians for company. Young people these days are such lazy louts!

On the second day of swimming, I managed 10 laps with serious effort. This time several 20/30-somethings with hot bods slipped into the pool and took to it rather effortless (like fish). And one chap was very Matt Biondi-esqe, agile movements, dark goggles and all. Inspiring!

My pal Al says that he needs to lose oodles of weight before he steps into a pool. This he will achieve by joining a gym. Post this miraculous transition he will show off his fab abs at a swimming club. Er…why not lose weight by directly joining the swimming club? No he says!

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Loins Of Punjab Presents is so funny and heart-warming, that I saw it not once, but twice. I noticed that the film managed to garner from the audience, not just laughter but applause, and at precisely the same moments, both times round.

A good friend appears twice in the film. First, as small-minded janta, who whilst taking the same lift as Ayesha Darkar and her American boyfriend, smirks at the boyfriend who could be described as ‘honourary Indian’.  

During the second half of the film, he is part of the audience during a desi Idol contest. Twas’ most amusing to watch his expressions and sincere attempts at acting, even though for just a split second.

The film was made two years back. Since then our-star-in-the-making has lost oodles of weight, and has grown exponentially more handsome. His weight loss story is interesting; he does not eat post 8 pm and it actually works. Now, he looks all lean ‘n’ mean. 

I have offered to whip up a meal of rice, Goan curry and fish fried in rechado masala (before 8 pm of course), because of his role in making this film happen. May the force with him, and the rest of the crew!

And coming up at the speed of light, is a good friend’s Arya Samaj-style wedding due to various unmentionable reasons. Apparently I am one of the witnesses. That should make life interesting for a day.

This weekend an ex-colleague and I met up for a drink at Mumbai Times Café, this retro-style place in Bandra. They only serve drinks and appetizers, which is pretty good as a concept, I think. However, the music is a wee bit loud, so you can’t really hear yourself think unless you sit in the open-air area, which has THE most attractive vintage Goan-ancestral-home-type furniture, wood, wroth iron and all. The food was all right, but we really wanted to take the chairs home!

I ordered a Caprioska, which comprises vodka spiced up with a few mint leaves, and the only vodka-based drink that I can stomach these days. It was WAY better than Hawaiian Shack version, which pretty much has character, not to mention is borderline medicinal.

Coming back to MTC, the food is no great shakes, except for the odd Goan appetizer. It’s usually tough to go wrong with the latter since most delicacies like the Goan sausage is pre-cooked, and the credit must go to the woman back in the village who strategically  marinated and stuffed these intestines in the first place.

Also, met an old friend at The Barbeque Factory, which runs on the same concept as Barbeque Nation. Basically, unlimited kebab appetizers, a buffet comprising the main course, salads and dessert, and a ‘welcome drink’ for Rs 450 plus taxes. Usually such deals make sense if you have a ton of prawns. The rest is as good at what you get at a Bade Miya or any roadside kebab kiosk. The buffet at Barbeque Nation is rubbish. TBF has better food. Taste-wise most of the food is yada, yada, yada, yawn, yawn, yawn. However, a decent ambience and mediocre food for Rs 450 has many takers in this city, that is starved for good places to hobnob, for hours.

My swimming membership has finally come through. As compared to other forms of exercise like gymming, this one seems less ‘synthetic’. I picked the 8 am slot, cause the kids hit the pool at 10 pm onwards, and God-only-knows what they do it in (besides swimming).

And finally, with the new maid being such a rock star, all is possible.

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A lot has happened in the past few days. I have gotten a new roomie – an air-hostess, who seems pretty amicable at first sight.

My requirements of a roommate are pretty basic. Her strive for cleanliness must be as staunch as mine, she shouldn’t be too loud or crude. She should pay the bills on time and it goes without saying that she must not be psychotic.

The requirements would differ a little when it comes to a romantic partner. The crude and being too loud still remains, though one is allowed to be both just for effect. Psychotics are ruled out too, of course. The rest is malleable.

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This morning, at 6.30 am, we woke up to the sounds of people yelling outside the house. The lights went out, and since my reflexes react almost immediately to the lack of air movement in the room,  was up and about. I poked my head into the balcony. People were rushing around manically with buckets.

Apparently there was a fire just outside our flat. The mains had caught fire, and we were lucky that a passerby had spotted the flames as they sparked viciously outside the roomie’s door.

This lady with a presence of mind, doused the fire with sand, and by the time the fire brigade arrived things were under control. We woke up to the aftermath, and felt lucky to be alive and uninjured.

We had no electricity the entire day and popped down to Slug’s house, which is just down the lane for the fan, breakfast and bed to sleep on. We reached there only to find the Slug dressed up like a bandit, and cleaning her fan and house rigourously (two brooms are better than one), since her maid had not turned up for 4 days. She cut a comical figure — very Pune college-gal-on-a-bike. She maintains that cleaning helps her destress. Seems like the new trend these days. Works for Brie from Desperate Housewives, too.

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