Skip to main content

Sigh!

I was trying to get on to people's nerves with my ceaseless prodding through the day: So, how are you spending your Valentine's Day? This one deserves to be the most irritating question of the year. And I burst out laughing at this one. "On most days I am double but on this particular day I am single it seems". By double she was referring to her weight. This came from a young colleague in the team – 20 something and quite funny. And taking me seriously asked me, "What is the V-Day fuss all about? "Don't you know love is in the air?" Wasn't amused with the cliche. Finally she tells me her plans on the chat. "I'll be watching adult movies with my cousin. My parents will be going out." I sensed the excitement. I've taken a liking to this one in the team. She is a normal young girl – doing things that conventional women in the team consider outrageous – smoking and drinking occasionally and hanging out with friends while focusing as much on her career. I won't say she is spoilt. I think it's perfectly normal to doing the things that she is doing. It's when you cross the line of extremity that you can say you are in the danger zone. And with no pretences and double standards, she stands out to me.

Anyway coming to Valentine's Day, I notice a rabid irritation. I think it comes from all the marketing hype that is so over the top. In Delhi, the revellers are mainly college goers who will be thronging the malls India Gate, Appu Ghar (newspapers are sure to print pictures the next day). One daily even ran an anchor which said the security for some great shake's garden has been tightened for his precious roses. My boss says an aged soul like him should be spared the V-Day question. But he added one can make tons of money tomorrow selling roses on the road, because it is sure to swell up to Rs 300 for one. Looks like he did burn a hole in his pocket once. And I failed to elicit some exciting response to my most hated question of the year.

I tried to do something I haven't done in my life. Look for a Valentine's Day card for the don. I walked into a popular card store some time back but walked out quite disgusted because I felt the cards just lacked taste. Big, ornate and in your face, it had the cheesiest of lines. I told the don I could become the creative head of cardmakers like Archies and Hallmark. Doomed career he said. Nobody sends cards anymore save for some who still believe in the old world charm. With the internet, even romance has become mechanised, it's all about speed, brevity and what not. Divorces are already happening via sms or texting. Relationships are taking on an altogether different hue and shape. Sigh!

Comments

Snigdha said…
From shit to roses...you really have a range dont you? But glad to see the shift away from the stink!
Shanti Thokchom said…
nang bo lei gado manam nam ba matam phang jabro ha? blog paba yamna nungai...iba lep kanu ibemma!!

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies.

The mad man said [sic] "You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the mad m…

Glam Gurumaa

Have you ever met a so called godwoman or godman in person? Well I did and I have to talk about this one. On Tuesday night, I got a call asking if I would like to come and meet Anandmurti Gurumaa. My knowledge about ‘spiritual people’ as they would like to call themselves is zero because I have never taken interest in their ilk and India being full of conmen in the garb of spiritualists you tend to look at them with suspicion. I had a friend who stayed for weeks at a house cramped with people in a shady lane in Delhi and they were all fighting and scrambling for the baba’s attention. The baba would perform pujas during the evenings, make them drink and wash with ashes and they would pour heaps of money buying the essentials. The people went to him for all reasons – to sort marital discords, business failures, illnesses, and even vengeance on enemies! It was frightful. I had gone to meet the friend but after a few hours scooted away more scared I would pick a bug from the unhygienic su…

Them Versus Us

Taking off from the Shilpa 'Shitty' issue (I love the surname and that comes from my ever so humorous and intellectual friend Latha or Lotty with love and Angel No. 1 to some :)), here are some reflections on being a north easterner in the capital of the world's largest democracy. Also, Lotty, on a serious note, says I should have a NE angle to what I write. She has a point. I have enough material there, enough to give vent to.

I begin with 'oye Chinky'. When I came to Delhi in the mid 1990s to do a professional course, I wasn't sure what the word meant. Maybe I was too busy paying heed to my new found independence and the certain sense of security -- the fact that I could go to the market even at 10 pm without the peering eyes of the army or the CRPF personnel patrolling the streets and stiffling our existence. It wasn't until my course was over and I got myself a break as a sub editor with the country's premier news agency, that I had my first hand exp…