Saturday, December 26, 2009

Fukold with Ninna and Pintu

So there is this camping event that has become a kind of an annual event. It's called Fukamp (Fujairah Camp). This time we went and camped at the highest point in UAE. I forget the name. I'm bad at names and good at descriptions. I think.
Anyway let me begin with day before yesterday night. India won the match and the series against Sri Lanka and Anshuman and I found a stray pup on the road. Anshuman's heart immedeately melted and we took him home. He came home and marked his territory with his urine and excreta. Since then I have had the pleasure of cleaning shit several times.
That's the thing with puppies. You love 'em. You hate 'em. You love 'em. You hate 'em. But really he is quite a sweetheart and has not chewed as many things as I expected him to. We have named him Pintu. Ninna loves dominating/playing with him and I have realised that he loves it too. In quieter moments he licks her face and she gives him a snotty look. When he is asleep she licks him back.
So I sat in the backseat with both of them and Anshuman drove us through the mountains which made Ninna carsick while Pintu slept merrily.
I have never left Ninna without her leash in the open. This was a first and she really enjoyed it. She even forgot about bossing over Pintu. People at the camp gave him many names but we will call him Pintu. He was much fussed over and loved. He ate his food. He ate Ninna's food. She hasn't eaten since yesterday and for some reason no amount of cajoling has helped.
Both of them are asleep right now. Ninna next to me and Pintu on the carpet. The radio has decided to come on on it's own as it does every day at about 8:30 pm. I don't know why this happens. I have never tried to set an alarm on it. I like listening to sports commentary. It's like white noise to me only the soothing kind. It's strange but I can listen to Cricket or football commentary all day. It suits Anshuman just fine.
So night fell on the camp and temperature dropped. We set up our tent. I laid out the sheets and the sleeping bags. Pintu started shivering so I had to put him in the car. And then it began to rain. Anshuman decided we should sleep in the car. I shifted everything to the car along with Ninna. The rain stopped and I decided there was no way I could sleep on the reclining front seat so I shifted everything back to the tent along with Pintu and Ninna. Both of them huddled with me as it grew even colder. Pintu licked my nose and then put his face on my neck. He fell asleep. Ninna was restless, probably cold. Finally Ninna got into my sleeping bag and that really saved both of us from the cold. I was awake for most of the night.I could hear everyone snoring in the camp and the wind froze us over. It was truly Camp Fukold. I was feeling fucked and cold.
Morning came. Anshuman made me a cup of tea. I'm so grateful for that. The dogs went back to the car. We made the drive home without much incidence in the company of Mark Knopfler's voice.
Right now after the luxuries of hot shower and talcum powder I feel like a new woman and more importantly I feel warm.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Desert rain

It's been raining all morning and it has dissolved into the afternoon and I have stopped pretending to work. Ninna is sleeping all cozy and comfortable inside my sweater. This sweater is at least 12 years old. My mother bought it for herself and like many other things I took it from her easily. It's amazing, the ease with which a mother will give away just about anything to see her child happy. I sometimes wonder if I will be just as generous when motherhood comes calling. I am quite possesive about my stuff. Anshuman and I have had many a fights when he has taken sometihing of mine and put even a scratch on it. He thinks I'm selfish and may be I am. My camera, my walkman, my laptop, my dessert(I despise having to share my dessert)my this my that and my other. So when there is a child putting his chubby fingers into my precious dessert I wonder how I will react. Motherhood is going to be so interesting.

It's still raining and Ninna still sleeps. For the last few weeks I have been obsessing over a certain mini netbook. These days I go to an electronic store and ask for it even though I know they don't have it. Don't ask me why I do that.I have been to many many shops and chosen one that I promptly fell in love with. That's the thing with me. I fall in love with things. It's emotional. I try to rationalise it so that I can make a convincing case in front of Anshuman so that he would agree with me. He's not an easy judge and it takes time, patience and intelligence to convince him of anything. If you're truly desperate you cry but I avoid that. I hate crying. I've done enough of it in my life.
So today we will go to Dubai Mall and buy my favourite subject of obsessive thought. My very own mini netbook. cute and organic and basic and so beautiful.

Friday, December 04, 2009

why don't you write?

Someone asked me after a long time. My reason is nothing in particular and everything in general. I live a good life. All the compartments are in place. Some of them unaware of the others' existence. That's what is so interesting about the inner world of thought and the outer world of reality.
My inner life is so exciting that every night it gets even better in my dreams. I wake up invariably puzzled. The thoughts most interesting are those that flash into your mind unannounced like you see yourself slapping someone for no reason. It's weird but it happens to me so often that I almost pay no attention.
You spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about relationships that either don't exist or are barely there. You realise that you think about people you don't like just about as much as you think about people you do.That reminds me of something I read somewhere and it got stuck in my head- You share a lot more in common with people you don't like than you realise.
You do your work mainly to feel like a normal person. you sometimes paint and mostly hate what you come up with and the mocking easel stares at you when you sleep. Dan Brown disappoints and you disappoint yourself looking at all the bookmarks in use by your bedside. So you ask yourself,"when was the last time you finished a book?"
You buy the hardback new John Irving and then feel guilty about it as you could have waited for a few months for the paperback. But you just couldn't wait. That is a deep deep problem with you. You want instant gratification and that somehow never fits in with the general scheme of things in your life. So you work for money. It sounds much worse than it is because your job is wandering around...literally wandering around. You work as a researcher for a TV series about Dubai. So you get into a bus and then a train and then a bus and then you wander. You talk to a few people. You collect brochures and such. You write in your new notebook. And when the time comes for you to present your data you just can't find a comfortable place in the house to sit and work. So you sit on the bed, drag the table next to it, spread your brochures, magazines, city guides and books around. You're not comfortable. You come to the living room and sit on the dining table chair, you spread your brochures, magazines, city guides and books around. Your back hurts. You're not comfortable. You procrastinate. You play with the dog. You molest your husband who promptly tells you to get to work. He knows you well and understands you'll do just about anything to avoid work.
You finally settle down as the night falls and the day threatens to dawn upon you and finish everything in a single breath. It's good.It makes you feel normal. The next day they love you for it. They love the way you write. You smile and treat yourself to a coffee which turns out to be shit.
And then the next day someone asks you,"Why don't you write?"

Monday, September 07, 2009

New blog


I started a new blog recently based on my experiences with tarot. Do check it out. www.tarotdiaries.blogspot.com

Friday, March 27, 2009

so damn cool!

i'm writing this post from my phone. So excited.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Monday, February 16, 2009

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Monday, January 05, 2009

Typifying songs

A conversational song is better than a discriptive one. Like you and your friend is a better song than iron hand. I'm probably grossly generalising.