going through the junk in my trunk

There are some people who are crazy beautiful. Who fill your life with magic and a certain kind of childhood glee. Who take you on this crazy journey into the Land of Oz. People who you can never forget because they are a part of a fanciful imperfection. Yet, these are the people you never want to meet again. Because somehow, they made the transition from being gorgeous people to being a gorgeous image in your head. And you like that image…more than (you think) you'd like them, now.

So there they stay, crazy beautiful people, in picture perfect memories.

the aunty speaketh

i just turned twenty-seven a week ago. and i have to admit that i don't feel twenty-seven. and what's more, i don't remember the last time i felt my age. except maybe when i was sixteen. (i felt all grown up and adult. like this was it. i had done all the growing up i had to do) then i turned seventeen. and next thing i know, i'm twenty seven, just like that, without ever feeling my age.

it's worrisome. not feeling your age. because then you don't know how to behave. on a certain occassion, i've been known to pull off over-the-hill with great flair (especially when it comes to climbing six flights of stairs with tar laden lungs) and other times, the twelve year old giggly idiot(which, by the way, is a personal favourite, and an age i carry off to perfection).

unfortunately, there's nothing remarkable about twenty-seven. no code of conduct that is inherent with the age. no adjective that will give you a rough idea to work with. like the terrible teens or sweet sixteen or even the daintily adult twenty-one.

problem is, twenty-seven is very very commonplace as ages go. except for a few things maybe. you know you've hit it when -

1. your skin cells stop renewing themselves (and you actually know that for a scientific fact) .

2. you drink alcohol, not because it's a stimulant but because it's a preservative.

3. the only songs that you recognise on music television are the ones played on a programme called "zzzzz".

4. you remember drinking goldspot.

5. your mother starts talking about your ovaries in third person.

6. people who you called dada/didi out of respect, you now call by first name, out of sheer embarassment.

7. you remember dates (history doesn't seem dull when you realise that you've lived through a bit of it).

8. and yes, you forget all the items on your list before you can actually finish it.

living in. falling out. floating around.

i woke up at 11:30 today. and it wasn't bright and sunny, as it usually is. i knew then. it was going to be a good day.

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while i was living in delhi, i hated the winters. but i loved the onset of winter. i still do. the smell of woodsmoke in the air. knowing that you can't leave the chairs out on the balcony because the cushions get dewy. taking your wollies out of storage, deciding if it is a wash or an airing that going to get rid of the musty smell emanating from them. sitting at dilli haat and slurping thukpas at the manipur stall (because they play the best music).

anyway, i love the onset of winter, because it's that in between time. summer fighting a losing battle to winter. not quite cold. but not hot either. not anything. but a bit of everything.

and here, i miss it. bombay is the town that winter forgot, or just plain left out. i mean, it's november for gods sake. stop with the sun shining. lets get out the mufflers, the nice wool coats, and my gorgeous gorgeous boots. lets be adventurous- lets have a third season.

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sunday night, saw b and me joining ayappa and his spanish friends at the irish bar. it was a nice evening. don't you find that when you meet someone new, it just takes one defining moment, for the evening to go from casual to intimate? well, for us, it was the moment where we started discussing the role fights play in a relationship. whether it marks the begining of an end or whether it makes for interesting dynamics.

i think the latter. like good fences, good fights, i think make for good relationships. crazy, but good.

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b has bought the latest scissor sisters cd called ta-dah. most evenings when i reach home, i find someone or the other has it playing. i love it. it's full of pop-py happy sounds with a certain edge that makes it really cool. it makes me want to dance. or lie on my living room rug in a little happy bubble.

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there are four people living at home now. and on an average, when i wake up in the morning, i find one person up, one asleep and one already out of the house. the evenings are the same. at no point are two people ever doing the same thing, except when it comes to sharing a spliff.

i like this atmosphere a lot. i enjoy having a lot of people around, each doing their own thing without intruding on the other's space.

maybe, it's a throwback to my boarding school days. or maybe, it's just fetish for inbetween contradictory spaces. but whatever it is, it's good to wake up to.

love etiquette or "how to say i love you too, without throwing up on your living room rug"

remember when we were young. we'd dream of love. of meeting knights in shining armours, who otherwise weren't lost in forests. of men who left the toilet seat down. of giddy phases of unaldulterated glee. of riding off into the sunset. or alternatively, of women with d cups, who waited in sheer teddys for you to come home. or whatever your idea of perfect love was/is.

thing is, we just didn't know better. because all those stories - those dreams, were all spell checked, spruced up, edited, call it what you will. devoid of the usual faux pas and heartbreakingly embarrassing i-want-to-curl-up-and-die moments that are integral to the plot.

i mean, what the hell, do we ever dream of falling in love with people who don't love us back. or falling in lust with people who could only be uncle festers (from addams family, if you've been on a different planet) answer to a love machine. no we don't. because
a) we are inherently optimistic/stupid.
b) card companies are in a giant conspiracy to keep up this farce of perfect relationships (although, i can't imagine why, because they could just as well sell cards for 'down with love. up with sex day'. and make pots more money in the bargain)
c) hey, what kind of moron dreams of making a complete fool of themselves (that's what real life is for).

nonetheless, i've given this some thought and i've realised that love ain't the problem. it's love etiquette, that's the problem. the answer to 'i love you' is not 'who wouldn't. i'm wonderful after all' as commonly believed. hard as it is to do, one should stick to the old fashioned guidelines for this one. we're a billion of us, so obviously the old fogeys were doing something right. (mostly i think, it was a whole lot of insincere 'i love you toos')

but since we as a generation, are more honest on the whole, (along with being more uncouth) i've made a handy list for those who tongues get furry at the though of bubblegum declarations (like i love you too, honey. what's not to love?). here's to you adoptiong some i'm-as-cool-as-a-cucumber-too-and-love-doesn't-scare-me-shitless flair-

1. practise saying it in front of the mirror. of course, you're stunning and bright and love yourself to bits, so it'll come easy. then, when you're with him/her, look deep into their eyes (at your reflection) and utter those little words. it'll fall off your lips like butter.

2. record the magic words. loop it. and play it while you're asleep. not only will it lull you to sleep, it'll come to your lips unbidden while you're awake.

3. slip it into conversations. say you're sitting at a diner.
person 1: pass the ketchup, please. (our in our case it'll be pass the sambhar, please)
you: i love you, too
person 1: (pretty sure he heard you wrong) i said could you please pass the ketchup.
you: i love you too
person 1: 'you're bloody nuts. waiter, can i get another seat, please' or alternatively, 'sure honey, let's go back to my place and discuss it'
okay, think about it this way, if you can say it to complete starngers, you definitely can say it to people you love. and this way, at least you can entertain yourself.

4. fall in love with an exotic foreigner who speaks in a language you don't. that way, your translator will do the job for you. (i must take a minute here. is this a fantastic idea, or what?)

5. learn sign language. or make one up. chances are your partner will think a declaration like that is a lot more romantic.

that's it folks. the rest of the time, you're on your own.