Wednesday, September 28, 2005

rediff relief?

My rediff mailbox is haunted, I fear.

The other night I dreamt of a close friend and woke up in a sweat. It all seemed so real. She was unwrapping delicious pizza and stuffed rolls for me to eat. And I was wondering in my dream why I thought she wouldn't be there. Why I thought I wouldn't meet her.

When I woke up startled and very disturbed I knew why. Because my friend died almost 2 years back. The dream nagged me for a major part of the day. And in the evening, when I checked my mail, I find 4 forwards from my dead friend's id. It blew my brains out. I panicked and screamed for the hubby. He came running and was terrified himself, I think. For he told me to just delete them.

As he was leaving for more work in the night, he muttered, "You should have read the mails. Maybe she's trying to reach you. You know her death remained a mystery..."

"Will you stop that!! It was junk, maybe virus! And thanks for taking away my piece of mind now!!" I yelled.

I didn't sleep a wink and kept some poor friends awake chatting the whole night. The next day there were more forwards. I deleted them too. And the next day, there was one from her father. It freaked me out. But I decided to open one and see.

Beautiful messages, some with pictures, spewing philosophy mostly about cherishing friends, the value of time and life itself. But who could have hacked into her defunct since two years account and taken the trouble to send pretty messages to people?

I think like this, and so reasonably because it's not yet dark. Come night and I keep wondering what she is trying to tell me... and... and I get so psyched that I almost start seeing her.

Hubby's useless solution is to get rid of the rediff id. And my refusal is understandable. It's my first ever email id which is all mine! Where I didn't need to add 123 or date of birth after my name to get an identity. I thought of blocking her mails. But felt I would be betraying her.

What do I do?

Saturday, September 17, 2005

neighbourly tales

My kind neighbour is a wife beater. And my maid is a big mouth.

See the connection? You are right. We share a maid.

After my jovial south Indian maid took up an extra job at the neighbours on the other side of the building, the morning sessions include little titbits from that house. Comprising husband, wife, a 9 year old daughter and a 9 month old son.

Since the usual stories she brings over are nothing very personal or juicy, I refrain from lecturing her on the ethics of a maid's job.

But the other day, as I shouted loudly from the kitchen to wake up hubby, she stands beside and tells me, "yesterday, they had a big fight."

"Hmmm..." I am preoccupied with squeezing a piece of lime into my glass.

"I am telling you, it was so bad, they were screaming at each other very loudly." She waits for my reaction.

"Really?" I immediately quit shouting at hubby. "Some people have loud voices and even when they talk you would think they were fighting if you didn't understand the language." I explained.

"See, Anna (implying my dear sleeping hubby) has a loud voice and it sounds like fighting when he talks." I continue.

"No, Bhaabi, this guy is a quiet fellow but she nags him a lot. Yesterday she was nagging him so much that he got really mad and dragged her into the bedroom and then beat her up." She knows she's got my attention now. "I was so scared."

I stopped queezing the lime out of shape and stared at it, horrified. My neighbours faces come to mind. Impossible.

"How did you know he beat her? And what were you doing?" I questioned.

"I saw them from the door. He was hitting her badly and she was screaming. I was minding the crying children. And later I saw her face all bruised and swollen." She replied.

Anger seethed in me. "Listen, why didn't you go in and stop him?"

"But I was scared, Bhaabi. This is the first time I have seen educated rich people living in big houses, fight like this." She looked at me almost accusingly.

I was disturbed. I went to drag the hubby out of bed to tell him. He was awake and had heard everything. There wasn't a thing I could do, of course. I made a mental note to be friendly to the wife when she called up to bitch about the maid or if I saw her downstairs. Usually I avoid talking to all the women who gather to chat and exchange stories in the evenings. They probably think I am too aloof or work too much, I let them think so.

I went back to the maid, "Listen, next time, anything like this happens, you are supposed to rush in and stop them, okay? Tell them, you are going to get in the neighbours, okay?"

I am hoping that my maid is making it all up. I bit my tongue just in time to stop another loud "How much longer are you going to laze in bed?" directed at the husband. Because I am also aware that if my maid IS making up stories, then the neighbours must be hearing tales about me beating up the hubby.


I am not too comfortable doing these lists and I usually run away when I see one. But I have been tagged by prerona and hope and love. So here goes my sevens.

7 things I plan to do before I die:
1. live well
2. travel
3. read more
4. laugh more
5. adopt a child hopefully
6. work up & maintain a toned body
7. open up a few dark secrets

7 things I can do:
1. cook
2. eat
3. get along with elderly people
4. help
5. see through people
6. cry
7. jive

7 things I can?t do:
1. sleep too much
2. make small talk
3. ask for help
4. refuse to help
5. bake like mom
6. flatter others
7. remember general things (particulars, I remember)

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:
1. voice (but shouldn't talk much)
2. humour/wit
3. eyes
4. shoes
5. manners
6. sense of integrity
7. strong chest n good butt

7 things I say most:
I dont say much!
1. (hubby name in different tones)
2. Oh really! (drives hubby up the wall)
3. Cool!
4. helloooow

7 celebrity crushes:
Dont have any but I like
1. Johnny Depp
2. Sting
3. Mel Gibson
4. Sanjay Suri
5. Mohnish Behl

7 people I want to take this quiz:
Whoever wishes to.

There, as boring as can be. Phew!

Sunday, September 11, 2005

People who eat sushi do not pack and get the leftovers home

I have been out a bit. I see peoples' eyebrows change shape if I mention I have been busy. "But didn't you quit your job?"

"So I did. I had gotten tired of too much rest in office." That's what it seems like now, when I think of my days of slumping on the same chair for 9 hours a day and eating delicious hot meals at my desk, going out for walks, for coffee, or to Crosswords if I got bored. AND getting paid for it.

Now, there is plenty of running around, little odd things to do, watch movies, read a bit, go out, meet friends and no cheque coming in at the end of the month. But I am not complaining. Yet.

The hubby is still sticking to his busy schedule. We had plenty of family and friends around so it was a lot of eating out and later trying to balance the calories at the gym. Yes, trying really hard. When I cycle and my calves burn with the weight, I think of my 120 kilo aunt on the little cycle rickshaws back home. Poor guys, it must be a challenge for them, for their slim tyres. And I pant my way to redemption.

By the way, the gym owner is really impressed and wants me to join his taekwando (I don't even know how to spell the word!) classes. I am planning to convince him to start tai chi and kick boxing. That I would join. I have also been thinking of buying a sandbag to punch. But of course there is no place to hang it and it would punch us more in our little house, than the other way round.

Since with the busy schedule guy, we cannot go out too far or for too long, we do a lot of meals out. Trying out new restaurants. Eating at old favourites.

The other night, we went out to this really chic place. We sat on kitch sofas and peered at each other in the light of a little floating candle while Buddha Bar pulsated. The hubby sniffed a bit and declared he's feverish and would like a nice hot soup first. I scoffed and asked for chilled apple cider.

He looked at his large soup and saw pieces of egg floating. Did I mention he's allergic to eggs? "Can I have something without eggs in it?" he asked for another. As I looked at the pushed aside soup, the right side of the menu flashed in my mind. Over 300 bucks. I reached for the miserable bowl and alternated a chilled sip and a steaming spoonful. There goes half my appetite.

I asked the man before ordering each of his favourite dishes. And when they arrived he had a bite of each. When we were done, I surveyed the leftovers. The right side of the menu disturbed me again. I asked for the leftover sushi and barbequed spare ribs to be packed.

"Hey, that was really nice. We must come here more often."

"Yes. But you hardly ate. You must feel like high society ordering sushi and then just pecking at it."

"I almost did, untill you asked for it to be packed."

I learnt my first lesson on seaweed wrapped rolls filled with rice and pieces of sea food and veggies.

Consistency shining here

Today we made it to a friend's house for Ganpati. Last year we didn't and I remember writing about it. And then it struck me, it's a year! IT'S BEEN A YEAR!! And I am still around.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Am I right?

Last night, or I think it was very early morning, lightning and thunderous rain woke me up.

"Oh SHIT!!!" I am capable of swearing even when half awake.

The clothes! I had washed almost everything in the house at night and hung out the slightly damp threads, in the merry sky to dry.

I ran to the window and walked out. I was soaked in an instant. Lightning struck followed by thunder and I skipped inside dripping water into the bedroom. Don't want to risk life for miserable bed sheets and towels and a man's t-shirts. No, thank you.

"Oh shit!" I realised he's managed to coolly take over my side of the bed (and no, he never managed to wake up for the clothes). On other days, no amount of shoving, cruel nudging or tickling can wake up the sleeping beauty or make him move to give me little space on my side.

All I had to do was place my wet self in his arms and the beauty sprang away to his own side. I was thrilled. Vicious delight took over. I moved a wet hand gently over the sleeping face. He sneezed twice. I waited. I repeated it and made him sneeze again. Then I changed into dry clothes, lay down and pulled a cheek with a dry hand. No reaction.

If only I wasn't so particular about my right side of the bed.