I cannot believe I've abandoned this blog when blogging is in my DNA!
My latest purchases. I bought a ton of stuff from Malaysia like the Queen of Engerland.
Here - a little example.
At ZARA (Please note I could only afford one thing a month from here back then). This time when I went home it was all ’’ Maam can I get you some tea?’’
Women’s happiness HIGH. Forget the valium (for now). Women and clothes. Its science doggammit.
Looking out my window, outside its cold and windy. Inside, a different kind of storm is brewing in my head. And without further ado, I would like to introduce you to the five phases of Holy shit am a year away from 30 ,please give me lots of vodka and don’t talk about the clock
Phase 1: Denial – Last week
I ate half a tub of vanilla ice cream and Nutella chocolate straight from the jar. Yup spoon into ice cream tub and into nutella jar and in my mouth. Mouth into Ice cream tub and hand into nutella jar and into my mouth. Hand into ice cream tub and mouth into nutella jar. Yup something like this.
Phase 2: Indian-ness - Forever
I make good use of opportunities presented to me. With my grit and talent, I knocked them down. This is the chorus for all unmarried Indian women above the age of 26 with Indian Mothers who just wouldn’t give in: LEAVE me alone dear Mother for I might suffer a fatal rupture of the body’s largest artery-the aorta if you try to fix me up again (How do people defend this). The world is not as big and complex as you think. Marriage is a Jinx word/its a go below word, for why can’t you be open to the fact of just seeing someone forever but living separately. Marry for better? What about for better or worse? No ulterior motives. Fucking show up then probably I’ll be ok with that someday.. Isn’t it wonderful to not conform to social expectations? and living alone is the best thing after Nutella and Vanilla Ice Cream(explained above).
Phase 3: Clarity – Of late
I’m a traveler and a stay-at home type. I’m universally versatile. Not cultured but you can see that I haven’t completely given up the Indian thing in my everyday life. I can talk to anyone. Today I have the stamina to tell you that I dare to move. It’s to move. Move to what am not sure but definitely bigger things. I want a place of my own which I can call home and I want to change jobs and do something that doesn’t involve dragging me to work every morning – not a pretty sight. Might start teaching or lecturing-just a thought since opening a school is not going to happen anytime soon. I’ve got a student whom I teach every Tuesdays and Saturdays, but now he’s graduated and am really happy. Probably not being overstretched isn’t a good thing? I’m too comfortable. Make peace with your past so it won’t screw up the present – words of the so-called ‘destroyer’.
Phase 4: Situation - Ongoing
Everything is stuck when you’re sick. I need to get rid/keep it under control of my Asthma that effects everything I do. I’m not complaining but am doing something about it in silence. But no KFC : ( is heart wrenching. I love that. Love that chicken. Love everything about it. Simple things in life they take from me : ) If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back. So Amen.
Phase 5 : Vodka - Valentines’ days
I miss trading warm bodies and being in the throes of it all.…I still keep my sense of humor and my ability to drink myself silly on days like this ;) But I couldn’t stand all those flowers and lovey couples in the park with dreamy eyes and I just want to gag everything up. Ok ok fine I’m jealous. GREEN. There.
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Dear loyal readers,
Upon popular demand, I shall relive the horror of Blind date no.2 and blind date no.3. Blind date no.1 already vividly explained before.
Disclaimer: This still happens and it’s true. It’s an Indian Cultural tradition. So educate yourselves my little followers. Amuse yourselves.
After this story, you’ll know why I rely on alcohol (my love guru) for everything.
Blind date no.2 – Year 2006
He calls me up from an unidentified/private number (Mr. Mystery Man)……clearly my mum would have given him my number and she conveniently didn’t tell me.
I still remember the phone conversation…because it was all highway to stammer land…
Him: Heellloo ooo ooo….Ceh ceh ceh can I speaker wi wi wi with Nalina please?
Me: Yes it is.
Him: how how how how do you do? Want want want shall she shall we have lunch sometime?
-- Basically phone convo went something like this. I think he was sweating as well.
I plainly remember being at work and wanting to squeeze the life out of my mother for trying to set me up with these world class suitors.
We agreed to meet up at BSC. The Amrikan chilies at BSC ( his pronunciation of American chilies)
Where was god when I needed him the most?
Anyway…
I went to BSC and he was late and I got pissed off and went to the Times bookstore …browsing stuff and just passing time….then Mystery Man calls and says he is wearing a white linen shirt and khakis standing in front of chilies’.
As I walked towards the entrance of chillies..i saw a figure.
Back was faced to me.
It was a figure. From the 80s.
Looked like Shan seteppa(My Uncle who’s circa 70s in the 90s) in his hay days.
Plus he had his hands at his hips in the most womanly way you can think of. BOTH hands. And his hip slightly swayed.
We went…made small talk….or I made small talk..he stammered all through the way…this time I didn’t eat much…my inner chi told me to behave today. Because I was nauseas throughout lunch.
I survived Date no.2..rather intensely emotional experience with a man that has a woman’s mannerisms.
The fruit of all this can be seen when….. he tells his mum who then tells my mum…’ That girl is too tall and talks too much’’….
There is a god.
We need a separate blog for Date no.3 (I’ll save the best for last).
I'm a soccer junkie. Deal with that
Photo caption: HOPE
