money money money must be funny

“Money, money, money must be funny in the rich man's world” –Abba

Some of you may say, ‘perhaps not!’ as the rich would try to remain rich or be richer. My argument is that they are rich period.

I see flats everywhere, on the way to the office, on big hoardings, in the newspaper, magazines, internet, everywhere. I look at them and look at them again as though by looking at them one of them would become mine. Made some enquiries and I nearly fainted hearing the prices. I had to watch 4 movies back to back to overcome the feeling. Recession is happening and prices should fall is the talk but I don’t see it happening, atleast to any of the flats that we wanted to own and enquired. Yes, I am talking about Bangalore which is considered not so expensive. The middle class dream and the never ending EMIs I must say!

Remember Sridevi in Judaai, where she said,”Ye middle class ki baatein mat karo.” I wish I could be like her, blink non-existent lashes and say,”It’s only a flat haan? 2Bhk, 3BHk? Here have it. Ye lo, ye lo, aur ye bhi lo” Anyway, let me stop dreaming and concentrate on my house hunt. Friends tell me that sometimes it takes close to 2 years from the thinking, searching to the buying. The Prestige Shantiniketan also came crashing down. I work in that side of the city and went agape watching it. I am not going to buy in that area at all, forget the builders. I could never afford a Purvankara, Prestige or their ilk but if this is happening to the big players, what can be said about the small builders?

I am also starting to think what I should do if I lose my job. I know searching for a house and thinking of losing job doesn’t go together but in the back of my mind, it is there. What is plan B or plan C if this happens?

Diwali was celebrated without crackers. I told S that I am bursting environment friendly crackers and made sounds of crackers with my mouth, Tuuuuunnnnngggg!

I have been having Diwali curtain raisers and making sweets and distributing to neighbours before the actual day (which was yesterday for us.) that I did not offer any sweets to God but offered a variety of fruits. The worshippers would not want to see any more sweets after the puja was the reason. As for the lights and decorations, I had rose petals, floating candles, diyas and what not. (Photos were taken while praying and lighting diyas to impress the mother-in-law)

S started laughing seeing my Gods. There was Jesus Christ’s picture (it is the biggest) and a small christmas tree too along with the Ganapathi, Balaji, Krishna-Radha, Saraswati and Lakshmi and the various other Gods. ‘Your Jesus is also celebrating Diwali and my God, there is also a Christmas tree" he said. My room-mate left the picture behind when she left. We used to keep all the Gods together. I did not have the heart to do away with it so carried it when I shifted with S and now, I worship all the Gods.

Got the URL of Shobhaa De’s blog from Saltwater Blues and I left a comment in her blog,”oh, I never knew you blogged”. buhaha

Dhak Dhak Hota Hain Father India Ka Dil

Somebody thought that his name has a dose of Rama (Ramadoss) and wanted to save people. Why is he doing it? i think that is because DDHHFIKD. Read on to know more about DDHHFIKD.

Colleague and i walked around the campus spotting the survelience cameras fixed at various locations. The guy inside the security room must be wondering what these two ladies are doing, passing by the cameras one after the other and giggling at it. Women can find anything and everything funny. We were literally laughing looking at the cameras saying, “Here is one more. Gosh, what must the security guys be thinking?”

Ram Gopal has proved with Contract and Phoonk that he can also make comedies. A dangerous underworld in Contract was called, Goonga. Oh my God, isn’t it so scary? In Phoonk, he has used all the superstitious beliefs of India. The camera mainly focussed on the eyes of two ladies whose eyes were kohl laden. Zoom in zoom out and hold for a minute on the eyes.

i was running to catch my cab in the morning. Took a turn near a joint where people were having breakfast. Suddenly, some dogs started chasing me and then running along with me. Guess among them, there were some bitches that were so hell bent on proving that i am one of them. i did not let them win. i stopped and stood still until they went.

i don’t care if Pappu or his father can dance or not but i can. Salsa, Merengue, Jive, Cha Cha Cha, Manipuri Classical, Hip Hop, a little bit of Bharatnatyam and not to forget the Bollywood Jhatak Mataks. Mom used to call me co-curricular activity as i was always on stage doing something or the other. This encouraged me a lot and i had decided that i wanted to become a bollywood extra. i would have loved to be an extra in DDHHFIKD (Dhak Dhak Hota Hain Father India Ka Dil. This is the title Om Puri aspired to give a movie in King Of Bollywood) My hopes were dashed by the movie Hindustani, where they paraded sexy, tall, model-looking babes as extras in the Jhatka Lagadiya Tumne song. Every other movie started sporting extras with good bodies and looks. Nowadays, apart from the body, you even need to be a blonde to be an extra. So, i became a blogger.

It's been a while

It’s been a while that i am in touch with J. She called me up to say she has reached the U.S. i don’t even know which month that was. i told her to mail me and update on everything though i knew she wouldn’t. We met a couple of times after her marriage. S likes her tea. They like each other, my husband and J and they were so prim and proper, but it was not like how it used to be. Like when i introduced my friend Meg. They got along like a house on fire. The moment she opened the door and found us standing there, she started with her naughty hi! and showed her new shoes to him see my new Addi as if they have always known each other. We walked together for a few steps and she would start on her shoes again. Meg played along and we had great fun.

i have been missing her a lot lately esp. because of the dance. My colleague R and i had icecream one Sunday after the dance practice and suddenly i remembered how J and i used to skip lunch and go dancing and then hog ice-creams at Corner House. The world was ours to conquer. We had no deadlines, no husband to go back to, no parents behind our backs, and no serious responsibilities. We followed someone who looked like a sex worker just to see how she got a client. (Of course, we failed). We sat on a bench on M.G road and had lunch packed in a tiffin box, some khitchdi cooked by myself in a hurry and bhendi fry between dance practices and watched the world go by. We talked about the whole world and everything silly in it and talked about the same things again and again like an unquenched thirst. We shopped the whole day and ordered food by looking at the menu from right to left to choose the cheapest as both were broke. The restaurant did not accept cards and, we were too tired to scout for another. We would fight over the same novel as if there are no other books to be read. Her brother was forced to take us both behind his bike and ride up and down the lane just because it was a new bike and we wanted to ride pillion. Then Kevin, J and i rode triples in the middle of the night and sang the Anda song loudly to kill the chill nip in the air. Now, i almost feel that was me in another life. How i hate people speeding away at night in front of my house and having fun!

She’d ask me from the window, “what’s cooking?” and i’d reply,”Balls, vegetable balls!” and we’d laugh ourselves silly all over again. We sat on the steps of a church one evening; looking at the sky change its copious colours and talked about our future. The memories are still so fresh and the images, all so vivid. A few crackers could be heard at a distance but we were unmindful of all that. The bench on M.G road and the trees in its vicinity are long gone because of the Metro rails happening. i looked at that place with a twinge in my heart the last time i saw it.

The seasons are changing and winter will soon proclaim itself with full vigor. It is at times like this, the in-between time; when festivals start to line themselves up that i feel quite melancholic.

The last time we met, i remember her uttering those were the loveliest days of her life. i think so too. Perhaps, we have agreed without saying much, to keep those memories tucked in some corner and not dilute it by the day-to-day updates of our mundane happy married lives.