Are you where you should be?

Last week I was in London. For the entire week. I went for some corporate training course and extended that into a very nice short holiday in an incredible city. It was a perfect trip because, unlike my other holidays abroad, I was able to get a taste of pretty much everything. 

We stayed in a 'studio apartment' of a cousin of a husband of a friend of mine. Well, it was called that but looked nothing like the image that may have sprung to your mind at the mention of those words. It was a small apartment. It had all the basics. It was cramped yet could have been easily categorised as comfortable accomodation for two if the furniture could be re-arranged (read: thrown out) a bit.  

So I got a taste of staying in an actual (suburban) residential neighbourhood. 

We had to travel all the way from Ealing Broadway to Canary Wharf to get to the office where we had our training. 'We' being me and my friend whose husband's cousin's studio apartment we were staying in. In order for you to appreciate what I mean by 'travel all the way', here: 

\

So yup. I got to travel a long distance to work like any regular peter in London. All wrapped up and un-wrapped in the hot tube, wrapped up on way to work, unwrapped in office. so on. 

Then, since the visit wasnt the usual - oh stay for four days and see all there is to be seen of London (that is in a tourist guide / recommended on the internet / printed on the souvenir tshirt we bought too early) - I got to actually eat out at pretty normal places, go to a musical, hang out with some friends, get tired, get sleepy and head home to watch some tv and crash. 

I lie. I never watched tv - well except for the most unfunny version of whose line is it anyway (British) which I watched every morning. 

So while living what felt like would have been my normal life had I lived in London, I constantly wondered if the city was for me. 

Well. It was perfect. The roads. The trees. The sky. The houses. The office. The places to visit. To be in. Everything was perfect. 

Too fucking perfect.

For instance. While we were travelling to Canary Wharf, we need to take the 'District Line' followed by a switch to the 'Jubilee Line'. But, there was some sort of massive reconstruction something something happening with the underground - so - as a result the Jubilee F.ing Line kept going off service. So, one such time, we found ourselves in an over crowded Bank station. The announcements are repetitive and basically telling everyone to stay calm and walk on the right hand side of the station. 

Noone. Made. A. Sound.

Nothing. Not one complaint. Not one extra heavy sigh. No tch. No fahk. Nothing.

It was like ZOMBIELAND. They formed their line, they waited, walked, stood, and stared. 

I could have screamed.

It was then I realised that perfect was not my thing. I disliked perfect. Made me want to lash out. To dirty. To tear. To break something. I could not wait to get home.  

However, after I got back - to smelly and hot Bombay - I was not entirely sure about London. About the great Abroad. I felt pretty certain I belonged in India, but I wanted a defining moment. A clear stamp. 

--

I am at work - its 11pm - and an associate offered me some Vada Pav. 

I bit into it and I knew quite easily. I got my stamp and my defining moment. Home is where the food that makes me happy is. It was spicy and yummy. My entire time in London I couldve cried for lack of food that made me remotely satisfied. Here it was. In plenty. 

Food you love 

Family you love

Get them both to the same place

and you'll be happy.

Ok maybe not you. but me. yup

In the loo

ok so tell me what you think

wonderbot diaries is officially open

that's about all I wanted to say actually. Go check it out - Wonderbot Diaries. 

you cannot imagine how fun this is

for many a rough sunset with you

Birthday Gift of Awesome

Hello

So as a birthday gift this year, my boyfriend got me a graphic tablet. Which is this device which allows me to draw and paint digitally. I cannot begin to describe how awesomely cool it is. So, my first (somewhat shaky) painting from my super graphic tablet coming up in the next post.

I am very Hungry

It's 1.19 am and I am very hungry. I managed to leave work early today and get home early (with not much traffic and what not). The taxi ride cost me Rs. 132 and I had Rs. 140 with me. So, I couldn't order any food with Rs. 8. Well, nothing more than a small packet of chips maybe and I was not interested in a small packet of chips. 

So I come home, open my fridge Praying that some of the Sexy baingan bharta my cook made this morning was left over. No such luck. No egg. No Maggi. All that's there is very old cold bread and some Mexican Mirchi cheese spread. 

So I toasted two slices and ate them with the spread and some juice (not much of which was left in the carton, still). Well first I put them in the toaster, pushed the thingy down and ran to the loo to wash up so I can eat my 'dinner' all clean. I come back and the toast isn't nice hot and toasty. I go, 'shoot I broke my flatmate's toaster'. I push the bread about a bit, push the thingy a bit more. Change the timing. No luck. Then, stroke of genius, I decide to try another plug point. This is when I notice that I hadn't turned the switch on. It worked, the bread even got burnt a little. 

Did I ever, ever claim to be an all-time bright person? Then? 

Moving on. I proceeded to do some gift research online. Attempted to buy something from Amazon. Which charged me murder for shipping but I'm pretty sure that thing I bought cannot be bought here anywhere. Yes I am pretty sure. I checked some Indian websites. 

Really. Ok well, if it can be bought here, I'd feel pretty stupid. There. What do you want from me. 

Moving on. I then got bored of my research and decided to play GOD OF WAR (I) (its in brackets because it's actually just GOD OF WAR, but subsequently came GOD OF WAR II and GOD OF WAR III, not sure they were expecting that. ok I am rambling). The damn game is quite violent, not to mention, ahem, quite X rated (?). Well, there are naked women involved. Both God women and mortal women, naked. Semi-naked. Ok, anyway, the game is quite violent. So whenever they want to make Kratos (the main chappie) do something particularly difficult looking, they don't trust you to carry out a series of moves. Instead you're asked to press O. Then the game directs you to press a number of buttons as and when they appear on screen and then does all the hard work itself. Silly game. I enjoyed it. 

Well except for one part, whenever they want to test your skills and make you do something like Kill a MEGA MONSTER (they're not actually called that), they required you to press one button (say O) REPEATEDLY. And the faster you do it, the better your chances of killing said MEGA MONSTER. I of course took this very seriously. As a result, many MEGA MONSTERS dead and my right arm is barely functional. 

Also, I don't think Kratos ever dies. Or maybe I'm just a super sexy game player (no but seriously, I don't think he ever dies). He kinda looks like one of those guys from that dumb show. Roadies. But sexier. and more grey with a GIANT red tattoo thing. 

Ok here. 

No? 

So after all the hard work and faffing (described above) I'm back to feeling hungry with no food. I think I should just drink some water and go to sleep. Man, I would love a veggie burger right now

YES, THERE IS such a thing as a vegetarian burger. Don't bug me now. Good night

with you

I have a long weekend coming up (and by long I mean both Saturday And Sunday are off), and I cannot wait. I remember a time when I'd just moved to this city and dreaded the weekends as days which would just remind me of how few friends I had around, how the few of them had better things to do, and how much I missed the one person who tolerated me most successfully. Well, he's here now.

the sky 

could be blue

I don't mind

Without you

it's a waste of time

- Coldplay, Strawberry Swing

how I love the song. how I love this line. 

and how I love that it makes sense to me. 

Wonderbot Diaries

Hello my blog readers, 

I have decided to start a new blog. Its called wonderbotdiaries.blogspot.com. You can find it in my list of blogs. I had originally started this blog with inspiration by James Kochalka. (He draws a comic for each day of his life and puts it up on his website, and its very entertaining). Well, eventually it just turned into a vent and bitch blog for me to write about all that was going wrong with my life - with noone but me to read it, but it was a dear diary blog. You understand. 

Anyway, since I have been drawing a bunch of pointless little 'comic strips' on and off this blog, I have decided to try a new project and see if I can come up with one for at least two days in my week which describes something which happened to me in my life in that week.  

Not very sure if I should set two fixed days seeing as the Photo(s) of the (wednes)day thing was not sustained (by me). In any event, this is the plan, thought I would let you guys know. Please to also check my sexy new blog and await small snippets on my life. 

Why am I doing this? Some sense of purpose. I have always wanted to be an artist, or a photographer. I have always told myself these can be my hobbies as I pursue a professional course etc. Well, it turns out I have found no time to make my hobbies meaningful, no time to learn more and do more. Then I watched this movie Julie and Julia where she just sets this plan for herself. She decides shes stuck in a job she hates (which is not really the case with me) and she is super at cooking - so her husband asks her to try out every recipe in Julia Child's cookbook in a year. Its a challenge, and aim to follow through and her cooking gets better and everyones happy and theres also a blog involved somewhere.

Ok enough of this now. I hope to come through on this idea - let's see where it goes.

Thank you

Cranes, Birds and Sunset - Sexified

I see you baby

shakin' that ass
shakin' that ass

alright

Photo(s) of the (Mon)day

Finally took some photos this weekend on siddharth's sexy tripod. Here they are

Grr.

the saur us.

So I get distracted a lot.

Do not call me incompetent.
Do not call me inefficient.
Do not call me slow, dull, inattentive, indolent, inert, lackadaisical, languid, tired, weary, slack, procrastinating, indifferent, shiftless


You may call me Faffy though. 
And yes, I did randomly copy synonyms for lazy off the net. 

Revised PJ Alert

So I put up the previous post. Went back to work. Worked worked worked. Ordered some dinner. Went into the cafeteria to eat it. IMAGINE MY SURPRISE when I see one of my colleagues sitting there in his sunglasses.

He has conjunctivitis.

Ta da.

Revised PJ Alert post was born. So was my paranoia. My eyes feel itchy.
Do they?

They don't.

Don't they?

Aargh

PJ alert

I did warn you. I am having such a bad day. Such a terrible bad day. Mother of all Mondays.
Help

Gifts will help. Small ones also.
(yes I'm a slime)

ok bye.

I wouldn't say you're nothing without me.

You would though.

sadistics

thats supposed to be a clever play on Statistics.
I've been told I don't leave anything for interpretation. That I like to remote control everyone's thoughts and actions.
I believe that is spot on correct.

Fab, just Fab.

It was, 'I love Fab India furniture'. 

Anyone who knows me would tell you (well, depends really, if you know them as well. If you’re a complete stranger they may not be so forthcoming with the me-facts and fun trivia) (just saying) that I love Fab India furniture. 

What furniture, forget that, I love Fab India. Simple.

Well, now that has become: 'I love most Fab India stuff, over-priced as they are and I love the furniture designs, but I hate Fab India furniture'.

Why.

I’m someone who needs my house, my living space, to look exactly as I choose. Which is why when my current flatmate and I went looking for houses when we got to this city, I was absolutely stubborn about not moving into houses which are already furnished.

Why­(1):

Well, a number of reasons really:

1. I don’t like feeling like I live in a cheapo medimix hotel (please refer earlier post here to see what I mean by that).
2. People only leave furniture they Hate. They detest. Or that which may be possessed.
3. What, its true, it could be possessed. Or worse. We saw a fridge (yes I know fridge is not ‘furniture’ but it is a part of a ‘furnished house’) in one of those houses which I refused to let my flatmate open and check because I had this not-so-fun-tingly-tingly feeling that something (like a dead body, of a rat or person) may fall out at us.
4. I imagine all the oily stinky heads that may have rested  against that sofa. Or the activities the previous tenants might have gotten up to on said sofa. Ahem. Need I say more.

If you live in a pre-furnished house, well. I’m not apologising. You should have thought things through.

Back to Why

So. I love having my house look like I’d like it to, and as mentioned earlier I used to love Fab India furniture. As soon as we moved in – I ran to the nearest Fab store and picked out my bed and book shelf.

Touchwood. Literally. Pun Intended. Whatever you call it. 

Those two have mostly behaved. Well, except that lying down on my bed breaks my back. Ok, there I’ve admitted it. Everyone I know warned me about that damned Futon. But no. I loved it. I bought it. I suffer.

The book shelf is alright.

So, egged on by the great victory of the good bookshelf, I ventured into Fab again. This time with my parents. They kept saying, buy a dining table and chairs. I said no, no need. I just need a small breakfast table thats all.

Why (2)

Well frankly, a dining set would’ve cost a lot. 

I loved the cool fold up breakfast table which I’d already seen at a friend’s house. And my tam brain was thinking – wah, not only could I use it to ‘Comfortably’ eat an entire meal, I could also use my laptop on it, and maybe it would serve well when someone decides to bring me a romantic breakfast in bed. Ooh, and with flowers. Maybe, there would also be some chocolate milk. 

Mmm.

Back to Why

So, I got carried away. Spent 3.5k on that breakfast table. Went home happy.

Needless to say, I used the breakfast table all of Thrice.

Why (3)

Because I got too lazy ok. 

It used to be folded up inside my room. 

And I'd already have gotten my breakfast and settled comfy on the diwan-bed outside in the hall, in front of the tv, just minutes to go before I absolutely have to get out of the house and get myself to work. The idea of moving myself, getting to my room, dusting off the table, bringing a cloth to put on the table so that my cold juice doesn’t leave a mark on the wood. Etc. Etc. (ok maybe not too many etcs more.) 

I just could not.

Back to Why

So the table was in my room all folded up. Against a wall. 

So one day I was sitting at the edge of my bed, blankly staring at the space occupied then by the folded table, thinking nothing about the table, when suddenly I notice  - A giant crack.

What.

Where did that come from. I haven’t even used this damn thing.

Ok, ok. I call my boyfriend. Whine. I calm down. I will speak to the sweet Fab people who sold me this. They will replace it.

REPLACEMENT 1.

Well, after some persuasion that the crack was always present – I got a new table within two weeks of having returned the older one.

Life went on. I decided to open it out and place a small coffee mug on it. For looks.

You know, just, make my room look like its from a sexy Homes R Us kinda magazine (I KNOW there is no such magazine).

After that I went to Chennai for a week. Came back

Well, how better to put it than – It was Broken. Splintered. Like my mug had magically called all its mug friends and had a jumping party On the table. (ok that does not make sense)

The damn table had collapsed. From the weight of my mug. Well, there was no better explanation. So I immediately sprung into action. Called my boyfriend and whined.

Whined some more.

He told me he’d come with me. Speak to those people. They’d somehow replace it.

REPLACEMENT 2.

This one wasn’t as smooth. Given that one side of the table was pretty much splintered wood. The shop fellow sweetly asked me if I had sat on it.

I didn’t reply.

But somehow, I have a feeling the look on my face gave me away.

He took the table back.

Long story short – well, shortening a long story and fast forward –ing three months from then. I take a colleague of mine and go to Fab. This is my tenth visit since the fateful day when the table was returned.

They see the black cloud hanging over my head and miraculously present a table just like mine from somewhere.

This time I had the good sense to examined the damn thing from all angles before taking it home. As suspected, there is a crack under one of the legs.

So i politely point out the crack which has so evidently been glued together.

Shop guy: What crack, I don’t see any crack.

Me: Um, there it is.

Shop guy: No.

Me: What do you mean! Its a large crack. Its the size of my thumb (I don’t have tiny thumbs).

Shop guy: No no, thats just the wood.

Me: I can see glue. Look, feel this man.

Shop guy: *feels the wood*. Feels fine.

Colleague: *breaks off the leg*. See. It broke.

Me: Give me my money back.

Shop guy: Stammer. What. You broke it.

Colleague: It was broken. Just give her her money back.

Manager: Ok, here you go.

The end.

Many months later .

I venture into the same Fab India. Everyone eyeing me warily (yes they remembered me). I spot an awesome dining table. I buy it.

Why (4)

....

Back to Why

I was so bloody excited about my dining table and two chairs. Cost me a bomb. But I felt it was worth it. That it was time to give Fab another chance. Anyway, who else would I turn to in my time of (furniture) need?

I even bought a giant lamp that goes with the table.

.

The chair broke. The leg broke. Followed by the seat.

(Alright, I'll admit. A few tears were shed along with the Whining this time.)

RETURN

I call them up. Tell them I’ll pay them to take the whole thing back.

Told them, Yes. Someone Did sit on it this time. But it was a Chair. It was to be expected. Don’t Push me. I’m a lawyer (Though I’m never sure why thats a valid threat given that I’m too f.ing lazy to file a case against them or take any such action anyway. And one look at me would tell them that I’m no Palkiwala yet).

They agreed.

Well.

Thats why. 

And I have learnt my lesson. From now, I shall visit Fab, note the designs and get a friendly furniturewala to make uncannily similar stuff for me.

I tried Fab.

I really tried to be fair.

To do right.

But.

Bleddy.

Despicable Me

As much as I don't like myself sometimes, I think there are so many people who don't like me more.
Maybe I'm a villain in the plot. You know, the 'life' plot. In the Truman Show version of your life, I would be a villain. Put in for some masala masti by the director (here God). Not an inherently evil villain, your life plot is not a superhero one. No, your life plot is at maximum either a comedy, or a romantic comedy, or a short sweet story on 'that's just how it is' or worst case, a drama. The villains in such plots are usually not inherently evil.

For instance:

Superhero movie - Villain - has powers to turn everyone to ash etc. Not me.
Drama, romantic / otherwise comedy, short sweet story - the angry boss, the nosy neighbour, the backstabber friend, the crazy aunt. Me

And no, I'm not the villain who turns from 'i want her dead' to 'aw, ok she's learnt her lesson'. No. I might even be the 'aw ok she's learnt her lesson. No wait, was that a crafty-i'm-up-to-no-good-suckers smile at the end?'.

Anyway, I saw despicable me recently. The villain was cute. he had cute minions. and cuter little girls. who had cute unicorns. what not. found love in life and turned good. Its a lovely movie, watch it.

it really is that simple

since someone asked, this was drawn on yellow tissue paper.

I have a cold.

This was a clean tissue paper. 

do not read this

too much disobedience you are.

hello, long time no p.

p = post. not pee. long time no pee would be a real problem.

hello.

Do I have anything to say? That is the question.

I am off home this weekend on a very-much impromptu trip.
I am broke.
I am loaded with work.
I am feeling sick from the Chinese food I just had for dinner (again) (again for both the feeling sick part and the Chinese food for dinner part)
I am doing quite yay generally.

I went grocery shopping last night and bought an awesome load of stuff. Including a packet of black eyed beans. How cute are they ha.

hello little beans. 

Anyway. 

I also bought some other chickpea what not stuff. I bought RIN SUPREME BAR WITH EXTRA 50 GMS. Tide. I bought three cartons of juice. Two Nestle Milk cartons. Family pack of ice cream. Some tooth brushes. Paste. Not an exhaustive list. Then the shopkeeper man told me there's a number I could call on for HOME DELIVERY (ta da). That was my reward for the good-girl shopping I did. 

Then I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" on HBO. I like the movie. Made sense to me. I could identify with every kook character in there. 

The girl who thrives on drama

The girl who gets a little nutty about being lied to

The girl who checks her hundred inboxes, phone, chat, mail, fb what not in anxiety. 

The girl who.. ok, I identified with all the women in the movie. 

and some men. 

Let me not give too much away here.

Then I fell asleep while watching "Sleuth" which actually seemed like a really fun movie. 

I miss some of my friends. Some of my non-friends. Makes me feel a bit quiet at times. But, you know what they say..ok not They.. I say.  

Life is a road roller. 

deep.

help you once

Where do you place your precious life, love

How do you see it breathe and grow

Do you

Plan to leave it lying there, baby                                              

At her feet, though she has no soul

Why did you let love in your life, love

Why didn’t you heed those warning signs

Curiosity

Got the better of your mind, baby

Now watch your world explode in front of your eyes

And when

your mind goes into multicolour lines

And when

your heart draws a blank

Let me

Come to you , come beat you up save you darling

Make you believe that you did fine

You didn’t

I’ll still, make you believe, that you did fine

Promise me though

Promise me that

You will

Learn to, just let love be, love.

Learn to let it go, when its time.  

street garden

When it rains,
it pours,

makes my taxi ride a poem,
how the windows sparkle

and the street lights become dandelions

for good reason, it cannot be captured right in a phone camera. or any camera.
this way I can feel all special in my head.

still, I'm sure you understand
it was all very beautiful

doodle - decorations (part of the 'jobless at work' series)

yummy

i love drawing messybighairwomenfaces.











ok so this isnt a doodle, but the fate of my paratha wrap.

I feel sick and want to go home. and sleep. blergh.
i hate hangovers

There is the door

When life gets good, its good

When it gets too good to be true, its super

But there is always that nagging feeling

This can’t be right (therefore the too good to be ‘true’ bit hitting its mark).

and

If I’m this happy, I’m about to get that sad.

It is not a joke. It is not a myth. It is true.

Life gets good, then it gets too good to be true, then it all comes crashing down.

This is only to let you have a good grip in reality.

Its an external survival support mechanism.

Nice cold splash.

One tight slap.

A kick – If you’ve watched Inception you would know what this means.

That nice feeling of falling.

You need that, to bring you back to your accepted reality.

Your life is not comfy and perfect.

This is good

This way you know you’re alive and not dreaming.

Thank you for always being that kick, that tight slap, that cold splash. Does not make me love you, but I understand, you are only doing this to keep me alive. Sad, but very alive.

Now, let me show you out

                                                                                     

Photo(s) of the (Wednes)day

how pretty is my silk sari. I don't have any new photos, because I'm useless.

What is With Everyone?

I know that the next year is still a few months away, but I think it is officially time for me to make a resolution. One which I have made and failed to keep up for a number of years now. Enough, though. It is time. There is a lot of change going on in my life right now, and all for the best. Never a better shot at attempting

"Try and stop being a big bitch to everyone you remotely care about." Because it really takes a lot for them to continue liking you for whoever you are. And you're getting worse by the year, making it harder by the year for them.

and also

"Try and stop getting so affected by the people around you and the stupid (in your opinion) things they do." Because they do not give a shit. You are the only one affected by it. For the worse. It does not help your blood pressure, your temper or your image.

Alright then, today shall be Day 1 of me with my new resolve. Let me see how this goes.

Super. Duper.

My new word "Pfeh" and where to use it.

Hey man Johnny, why like a fool you say "Yes Papa, Yes Papa" to everything man?
Why don't you stop being a Papa's boy ha Johnny?
Live it up man.
Live it up and fight for your rights man.
You ate sugar, so what man, I ask you so what.
You ate sugar and you lied. SO WHAT man.
What is your dad's deal man.
Fuck, Johnny. I'm telling you man.
You are a fool. All that sugar, what can I say man.
You are a damned fool.

Pfeh.

downhill

I had created a bunch of 'somewhat smiley' faces to use as my profile pic on gtalk. What started off as just making one happy looking face, went on to me making a proper series as the need arose. Then I started noticing the trend (not particularly a 'discovery' and you may say, so what? still, since I'm not posting about about anything else anyway). As the day wears on, the smileys always changed and almost always in the same order as below:

Morning.

Middle of the night.

I also made a pirate smiley for a friend. Here. 

lyrics right from the heart

Was listening to the radio this morning and I heard what is soon to be on repeat in my playlist (if only I could find the damned song online). Here are a few lines I remember.

Munni badnaam hui darling tere liye
Zandu balm hui darling tere liye

and it goes on, till the guy joins in to go

tum atom bomb hui darling mere liye.

I cannot wait. Of course I dutifully informed the one friend who loves these songs as much as I do.

sigh.