30 Days of Me - Day 4

Day 4 – Your favorite photograph of your best friend.

So here's a photo of my best, and only, friend in the world - R. I've hidden her face cause she isn't to fond of being in the public eye, quite unlike me.

In fact, there is very little R and I have in common. She likes music that makes me cringe, I like music things that make her go WTF. We abuse each other, and share our love for alcohol quite equally. When we are hanging out, you will almost always find us laughing the loudest, telling the crudest stories.

I love R because she gets me like no one else in this world. I can be myself, speak my mind, even fight with her, and she's always going to be by my side. We have had our share of problems, but we've always bounced back from them. Cause we cool like.

Right now, both of us are caught up terribly with work, and find it really hard to keep in touch. But we've never been that 'OMG YOU FORGOT ME!' sort. We cool.

So, so cool.

P.S. Yes, we were both horribly drunk in this photograph. *hic*

Photo Memories

Working for a photography magazine has certainly made me realise the importance of photo memories, amongst other things. I think the age of film was a great time, because whatever photographs we shot with our cameras, prints were made. Since there was no other way to view our photographs, we relied on prints to view the final results. And now, years later, as I sift through old photographs, I feel that hit of nostalgia again. I am sure you must have also had those moments where, looking at old photographs, you felt all the memories connected to that photograph come back to you. Today, I thought I'd share some photo memories with you.

1. Le Marriage

Growing up, I was extremely fond of dressing up and applying makeup, and my aunt was only too happy to oblige. In this picture, a 4 year old me demurely poses as the bride, while my sister (who, judging by her expression, was quite embarrassed) dressed up as the groom. That doll you see in her hand was the baby. I don't really remember this moment happening, but it always gives us a good chuckle each time we look at it.

2. Le Beach Time

I remember this day so clearly, even today. My cousin had flown down from Scotland, and we were taking him on a Bombay darshan. We visited all the major landmarks, and here we were at Juhu beach. By the looks of it, it seems I was killing fishes, my cousin was just about to join me, and my grandfather just looks happy.

3. Le Family

When we were in Dubai in 1995, my dad decided to have our family portrait shot. All of us dressed up in our best, this strawberry dress was my first ever 'propers' dress, and those red flats were my first girlie footwear. In the excitement of getting a picture clicked, I guess nobody noticed my hemline was lopsided. I like this picture because it frames my family perfectly, and we have never had another family portrait shot after this one time.

So here's my suggestion to you—if you have prints with you, please digitise them. Scan them, take their photos, and what have you, but do store them in a digital form. You won't regret it!

I have a lot of other photo memories, and I wish I could share them all. Do you have some you can share? Let me know! Till then, happy nostalgia!

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!

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!"

Badla!

Gah! Why the heck did I come here?

Have you ever been on a trip where you ended up thinking "Damn, I wish I hadn't gone?" Have you ever had a most pathetic trip experience? If you're one of the lucky ones whose trips have always been successes, I applaud you, and also beg you to take me along in your future trips. For the unfortunate ones like myself, read on, and empathize!

[Don't worry, I'm not talking about my Dandeli trip here. Dandeli was a blast. I want to write at length about it, that's why I have been stalling for so long!]

This particular horrid trip experience I would like to share with you happened during a 3-day visit to, hold your breath people, Badlapur. For those who don't know, Badlapur is in the Thane district of Maharashtra. In the balmy Bombay winters of 2001, our school decided to torture the 10th grade kids further by taking them to this place, by making it a compulsory attendance activity.

My parents had never allowed me to go to any school trips. And I was so excited for Badlapur, since it would be the first time I would be on my own, and my very first class trip. I happily packed all my stuff, put the film in my Kodak camera, and I was set to go! Boy, was I in store of a heck of an experience.

The journey began where we traveled to Badlapur via our school buses (!). Our principal warned us beforehand: "You must address the guides as sir, and not by their first names. Even if they tell you too. You must not give them your phone numbers. You must not be alone with them." She could have just made it short and said "We are not liable if one of you gets raped in this trip."

So there we were, all excited and stuff. I was up to my usual ass-licking the so-called popular kids, so that maybe they would give me some company during the trip. I whipped out my Kodak cam and shot a photo of the popular peeps (Maybe now they'll like me!) But it wouldn't click. Maybe it was jammed. Like the genius photographer I was then, I opened up the panel, exposing the film to sunlight. I wound it back again. But this time, the film just would not come out of the roll. Great. So I practically have no Badlapur memories to store (Thank God for that!)

We reached Badlapur in a matter of 3 hours. The girls with the trolley bags were ragged severely by the teachers (?) "Oh you're some model or what, carrying luggage like that". While I dragged my humble suitcase through the rocky terrain, I could see lines and lines of camp sites with huge tents pitched. So I guess this is where we'll be staying. It should be fun, roughing it!

All of us excitedly put our luggage near our cots. I was given the very last cot, furthest from the girls, closest to the bathroom. Oh well. I continued my ass-licking by actually offering to mist the girl's faces with this amazing mist my dad had given to me as a present. But of course, they refused. We don't use stuff like that for our grade-A skin. Oh la-di-dah! Of course, we were all in puberty, and most girls had severe acne. But, who was I to argue!

It was smooth sailing so far, when all of a sudden, we heard loud shrills coming from outside the tent. The camp instructor stood there, saying "Ok kids, time for Karate practice!" WTF? Karate? I had the most bemused look on my face as I trotted behind my classmates to the common area, where a gentleman stood, waiting to give us Karate practice. We stood in neat rows, and I was, as usual, the last person on the row. I am thankful for that, since I was wearing the tightest pants in the history of the world. As we attempted controlling our laughter over the gentleman's "Hoos and Haas", the Karate session continued. Air kicks, punches, jabs, we did it all. It was quite a grueling session.

In the evening, we were given orders to wake up at 6, as we will be going on trek. Sounded fine, I guess. We'd get to see some nature, fresh air, and the like! And we were given the warning to be there at 6 am sharp, or get punishment. Well, nice holiday, indeed! I was out of my tent at 6 am sharp, waiting for the others to show up. Slowly, everyone assembled. And the ones who were late had to do push ups. On their knuckles. Did I hear someone say military camp?

As you would have guessed by now, I used to be a very smart person. I decided to wear the tight pants again for the trek. Which, by the way, turned out not to be a trek at all. The guides made us run on an uphill climb. If life wasn't humiliating for us already, the fatties like me who were lagging behind were hit on their asses by a stick. Lovely. And then their was the run back down, which was fairly easy.

Post shower, I felt some uneasiness. I checked out my thighs - they were full of painful red bumps. I hollered, and cried, and screamed in pain. And since I was sooo popular, everyone attended to my beck and calls. In my dreams, of course! Then happened a 'river crossing' activity, which had no river. The students had to climb a ladder, hang upside down and cross to the other ladder. Fun. I didn't partake in this activity, since I didn't want the kids to have another reason to laugh at me.

To conclude this exciting trip, on the last day we were taken to a water purification plant so we could see how water is purified. Wow. Just what a 15 year old gets excited over. The happiest part of the trip for me was the ride back home. Mummy, I missed you!

Now, I am not dissing Badlapur. It's a nice place to visit. I'm dissing my stupid trip, with stupid memories!

Do you have any such stories to share?! Post a comment, I would love to know!

Photo courtesy: Gettyimages

Two years...

Two years ago, on this very date, I had a dream. A dream to start a blog where I could connect with people, share my thoughts, and get to know the people's viewpoints. I initially started the blog in collaboration with my sister. The initial thought was to start something where we could review everything under the sun.

But things usually don't work out according to plan when it comes to me! Sister never attempted to write willingly, and I kept writing nonetheless. And it all grew from there.

Today, Out of Focus completes two years. Two amazing years where I've gone through so much. Here's a look back to some of my favorite Out of Focus picks for you to enjoy:

1. The boy (I am very proud of this 'story')
2. Noir (The first poem I wrote)
3. Dear: pin pale (Cute pen pal story)
4. Cookies (Stream of consciousness finds me!)
5. He's the Big Boss (Animals and Bigg Boss contestants collide!)
6. Dhruv (Cute boy, funny story)
7. I'm gonna be rich!!!!!!!!!!! (Seriously!)
8. The 'That Night' trilogy: I, II, III (First long story!)
9. Hala Mala Mukashi (My take on racism in Bollywood)
10. So Lickable! Plus an award! (My first blogging award!)

I have really enjoyed these two years. I want to give a big shout out to each and everyone of you for appreciating and enjoying my blog posts. It keeps me going! So cheers! Here's to you! :)

<3