Saturday, 25 September, 2010

These conversations are getting very regular at my house these days. Why? I don't know. Maybe I'm growing old without my knowledge. Feh.

itchy crotch!

Mom: बेटा, तूने क्या सोचा है?
Me: किसके बारे में?
Mom: शादी के बारे में!
Me (sighing): और मुझे शादी के बारे में क्यूँ सोचना है?
Mom: तू बड़ी हो गयी है अब! मैं लड़के देखना शुरू कर रही हूँ.
Me: Laughing hysterically, almost falling off the couch
Mom: हस मत. तू नहीं चाहती किसी सुन्दर से राजकुमार के साथ तेरी शादी हो?
Me: तू कर ले शादी. I'm happy as I am.
Mom: नहीं बेटा, अब दो साल में तेरी शादी करनी है. मैं तेरी प्रोफाइल बना रही हूँ पर.
Me: बना दे...लेकिन मेरी photo ज़रूर डालना.
Mom (pausing): दो साल हैं...तू बिलकुल shape में आ जाएगी! कल से diet शुरू!
Me (slapping my forehead): हे भगवान्! मैं ऐसे इंसान से क्यूँ शादी करूँ जिसके लिए physical appearance ज्यादा ज़रूरी हो?
Mom: It matters
Me: UGH!
Mom: तेरे मामा भी कह रहे थे अब उम्र हो गयी है तेरी...
Me: I'm only 24!!
Mom: जब मैं 24 थी, तू पैदा हो गयी थी...
Me: ..and you're still regretting that decision!

Marriage. Ugh. Just thinking about it gives me the shivers. I've never ever seriously thought about being married someday. And now I'm being bombarded with such conversations from various family members and acquaintances. I'm only 24 people! Is that too old for Indian marriage standards?

Sometimes I feel I'm just not built for marriage. I'm lazy, immature, irresponsible - no saasu maa will want me for a bahu (good riddance in my books! ;D) But just in case, by some freak incidence, I do get married in two years, this post would have been completely useless, and I'd probably be deleting it then (in case my to-be saasu ma is net savvy).


Sunday, 19 September, 2010

And I did this too!

If there's something unusual, weird, or random happening, you can be sure you'll find me there. This time around, the concept of a 'Fish Pedicure' caught my fancy.

A long time ago, I had seen a documentary on Discovery. People in Turkey suffering from various skin disorders were dipping themselves in these large pools filled with tiny black fishies. These fishies then stick to the person's body and start picking on their skin. Apparently, it's a great therapy and has had proven results.

I read about Fish pedicures when I was in Delhi last year. People were going ga-ga over how smooth their feet felt, and how rejuvenated they were after their experiences. I made a mental note of getting it checked out, but then a lot happened, in that period and it just slipped out of my mind.

Now this has migrated to good ol' Bombay too. And I jumped on the opportunity to visit one. The appointment was set, and I patiently sat, waiting for my turn. I kept wondering what it would feel like. When my turn came, I was taken in and an assistant first washed my feet. She asked if I had any allergies. In case you're wondering, I'm allergic to coriander now. Refer to previous post. But I guess that wouldn't matter for a Fish Pedicure, so I skipped that detail.

After a good washing up, I was taken in to the tub section. Hundreds of fishes were swimming around, probably wondering, "when's the next meal coming, yo?" I smiled, and thought, "you're really gonna like my feet little fishes!"

The timer was set for 15 minutes, and I gingerly dipped my feet in. Immediately the swarm latched on to my feet, and it felt like hundreds of tiny pins were pricking me. It felt so ticklish, and I saw these fishes going like a vacuum cleaner and sucking on my feet, inch by inch.

Eat little ones, eat.

Unfortunately, a huge crowd gathered to witness what was happening, like the Red Sea was parting or something. I felt like a caged animal on parade. Bleh. I decided to focus on the fishes who were trying to consume my feet, very unsuccessfully, however.

OMGWTF is going on here?! OMG!

But when I was getting really comfortable, I was told my 15 minutes were up and I had to get out of the tub. I pouted a little...I felt so close to the fishes by now. Come on they just consumed my skin, I felt connected! I didn't want to leave! "You could extend this session for 15 minutes for Rs. 200 more," the assistant told me. "Yeah, you can dry my feet now," I replied, shaking off the fishes from my feet.

*squeaky squeaky*

And now I have shiny, happy and the cleanest feet I've ever had. I will visit again, for sure. Wait for me, my little ones!

Thursday, 9 September, 2010

The commute

Now that I have started working again, I consciously decided that I am going to add some exercise to my daily routine. In my previous job, I traveled by car and sat at my desk all day long, and being the super lazy person I am, there was absolutely no scope for exercise. Now, my office is located 20 minutes from Dadar station, so instead of taking a cab (which I wouldn't get anyway) I decided to walk to and fro to work.

Does 20 minutes of leisurely walking count?

I am usually not an observant person when I am traveling by an auto or cab. I don't pay attention to any details, and I usually get horribly lost, unless the driver knows exactly where I want to go. But when I walk, I absorb and take in all the details around me - the sights, sounds, everyday nuances about the place. Getting off at Dadar station is an experience within itself. First, the air hangs heavy with the stench of human feces, a hobo's armpits and a 'Gents urinal', all with a dosage of rotting coriander leaves. Then, as I hold my breath as long as I can, I jostle with about a million other people to walk up a flight of narrow stairs, bearing blows to all parts of my body.

I don't complain about this, because it's not only me who's going through the ordeal. The woman who was punching me a second ago was also being punched by someone else. It's an endless cycle of punches and blows. It's all fun and game till you know, someone dies, or something. Anyway, once the jostling is over, my walk begins.

If the station itself is so bad, you can only image what lies ahead. Wading through unending muck and dirt and blood, and vomit and coriander I start walking. It is drizzling slightly, so everyone opens up their umbrellas, almost poking my eyes out. There is a very old and sad looking horse who pulls a cart laden with rotten lettuce and coriander. I feel deeply hurt, but move on. There are two cows tied to a pole eating and shitting while people touch them out of sheer respect.

A little further, there is a Sulabh Sauchalaya, smelling like it should smell, along with rotting coriander. A homeless family sits on a cart outside. The baby wails on top of his voice, and his teenage mother mouths expletives shutting the baby up. Then I see a rare sight of ear wax cleaners (seriously, there are none around anymore!) cleaning people's ears and a public assembles to watch this (disgusting) feat.

Walking ahead, there is more rotting coriander and hordes of people loading bags and bags of it in trucks. Seriously, that's a lot of coriander. There is another cow tied to a pole, swatting flies with its tail. Then comes something I haven't seen in such close proximity before. There is something called 'Navrang Bar', a desi daru adda. There is no door, flimsy curtains separating the drunks from the outside world. There is the overpowering smell of bad alcohol, and I observe people getting totally hammered at 8.30 IN THE MORNING. Drunks sit outside, either vomiting or getting into fights.

Another 5 minutes later, I reach my office. There is a small Hanuman mandir outside with the inscription 'Thanks to Mr. XYZ for the biggest donation ever to make this mandir'. I bow my head in prayer and mumble:

"I better lose weight at the end of this!"