We vent on Facebook. We tell stories, we confess, we argue, we cry, we reminisce, we forgive, we declare relationship statuses and we sob when they change, we outline our lives from childhood to date, we even express our suicidal intentions. It just occurred to me – Facebook is the new age shrink. Minus the quintessential sofa and the low soft voice mouthing the hackneyed line “How are we today?”
A sign on the street – ” Jo yahaan kachra dalega uske do baap”. ( The person who litters here has two fathers)
You can’t beat us Indians when it comes to hilarious signage 🙂
This is a new series.
Short accounts of things I have seen or have happened – things that surprise me or shock me or make me say – whaaaaat?
Some of these things happened ages ago – some I have already posted on Facebook – or scribbled somewhere and found them recently.
So this is from 2012
“Just watched a guy go down in one knee, slip a diamond ring on the girl’s finger, plant a kiss on her cheek and then say nonchalantly ‘ Happy Birthday’. Am I missing something or what? That gesture used to mean a proposal in the good ol days – when did it turn into a teenage surprise BUDDAY gift idea? “
I was chatting with a friend of mine about money. About how much is enough and how our entire lives are about earning to get rich or to get richer, whether the hours we work are justified and what kind of savings we have.
Anyone telling you that they work 20 hours a day at a corporate ONLY because they love the job and not for the money need a drum of hot coffee poured on them to wake them up from their delusions.
The only way to tell if you really love your job – is to be working merrily at a place where you don’t get paid or get paid peanuts.
I don’t get most people’s idea of wealth anyway.
To me – There is only one type of true wealth – and you can tell by one question.
If I absolutely want anything now – could I potentially buy it?
Literally anything. A helicopter. A Private island. A trip to the moon.
Anything less than that is not wealth.
It’s just money.
500 and 2000 rupee notes. That is all it is.
Your so called wealth could be demonetized in a day if Modi gets a second wind.
So 10 lacs or a 100 lacs doesn’t matter.
That’s just mildly well off.
Anything short of a billion is ho hum.
And even a billion – if it means that you have to go in to work every day – is still just money.
So simply by this theory of mine – we are released of all obligations to try to attain wealthy status. Because we can never do that unless you turn out to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. At least not wealth in the conventional sense of the term.
So there may be another kind of wealth that we can aspire to.
The abstract kind.
It is made up of dew moistened grass and smiles.
Of chaotic colors and first rains
Of ripe mangoes and mildewed memories
Of tone-deaf singers and kulfi hawkers
Of unattainable mountains and insane mountaineers
Of dried flowers in diaries and giggles
Of unforgettable words and haunting movies
Of horizontal tangos and midnight snacks
Dances and Foolishness.
That’s the kind of wealth rat race I can get on board with.
I am a legend in the house with regard to cleaning.
In that – I don’t.
If a pile of paper is lying in the corner. It will lie there sometimes for weeks. Even months. Little people come to live on them. Every time I look at the papers – I will tell myself – no point putting them back now – I need to read them and sort them. But I won’t really get round to that unless the papers themselves waddled up to me on their cute little paper legs and tapped me on the head saying – READ from here. Also if I moved them it will disturb the little people and I cannot be that mean.
But some days when the mood strikes me – I become a cleaning maniac. Think Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider avatar with a mop and a dust cloth. My mother’s words in the tone of the sternest nun at school – ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness’ rings loud in my ears. I clean cupboards – and bookshelves. I clean table tops and drawers. I even would scrub a face if it entered into my zone of cleanliness. I dust and adjust and arrange and reaarange.
However this Avatar of mine is dreaded more by my partner than the other.
The reason ?
Hubby dearest says I am ‘Abhimanyu‘. As most people already know – he was the son of Arjuna and Subhadra in the Mahabharata, the nephew of Lord Krishna. ( I learned all of this through the Holiest of Holy – Google) Abhimanyu was trained in all types of warfare by Lord Krishna and Arjuna themselves. Abhimanyu learnt the art of breaking into the chakravyuha (formidable battle formation ) when he was in subhadra’s womb. It was when Arjuna was narrating the art of breaking into chakravyuh to Subhadra whilst she was pregnant. But Abhimanyu did not learn how to destroy the formation once he was inside, because before he could hear the end of the story Krishna had stopped the conversation and taken away Arjuna.
So apparently my partner says – I learnt the art of cleaning ( Breaking into the Chakravyuha)in the womb itself like Abhimanyu because my mom is a clean freak. But like Abhimanyu I never heard the story to completion hence I do not know how to complete the task 😛 . Hmmfff ..Cheeky brat.
So basically my mom is to blame for this handicap of mine – since she didn’t listen/tell the whole story. Sounds like her too. Too impatient for long drawn conversations.
So the protocol is –
I start with my cupboard – overflowing – and decide that I need to discard the unused stuff – pull all the clothes I can see on to the floor and start sorting…see a dress I haven’t worn in ages – say wow – I had forgotten all about this…try it on – parade in front of the mirror…like how it looks…then want to try shoes that go with them – find that the shoe rack is messy – so start sorting that – find some old worn ones – go to throw them – check my reflection on the way there.. realize the mirror needs cleaning … go to find an old newspaper to clean the mirror with…notice a piece of paper among the newspapers – realize its an important document – decide to file it – find that there is lot of filing pending – start that – find some shopping coupons – almost about to expire – decide i need to use them – and leave everything and go shopping for more crap to fill the overflowing cupboard that I had decided to sort out today !!!!!
So whenever the hubby realizes I am on a cleaning spree – he quietly tiptoes into the other room and watches TV at low volume with his fingers crossed, steeling himself mentally that inevitably in about 1-3 hours he will be summoned. And when he enters the room – he will see a war zone not unlike the Mahabharata. Bedsheets lying dead – paper bags injured – clothes breathing their last breath – sprawled all across the room. Something or the other will come flying his way much like those gravity defying arrows. He will try his best to maintain gravitas and say his one and only dialogue which he will ALWAYS say even though he knows it makes me so mad and serves no purpose whatsoever.
Why do you have to start everything at once? Why not do one section at a time?
Hmmmfff. Because I am me. You know me. I can’t do one thing at a time.
Yes I do know.
Silently picks up clothes and stuffs them into cupboards muttering Abhimanyu under his breath while a pair of pants come flying at his head.