Monday, December 26, 2011

The Pajero Story




It was 1996 and I was doing my industrial training at Crest Communications. One day as I walked out of the doors a massive machine sauntered in and made the compound look small. I couldn't believe a car could be that big. That Pajero belonged to Shyam Rammanna the owner of Crest.Soon there was a shoot for Hero Cycles aqnd we were shooting with Sanjay Dutt. I was told to hold his shirt and told,"Now you've been touched by a star!". I enjoyed the shoot and Shyam directed the ad. The shoot ended late and Shyam offered to drive a bunch of us back to the office. So I sat in the back seat with some colleagues. Shyam likes speed. It was 4 am in the morning and there was hardly any traffic on Marine Drive. Ofcourse he hit the gas. My colleagues cap flew out of the open window and we all laughed!
Fifteen years later I'm driving the same car and I love it! God is kind.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Phone camera


Sometimes the phone camera fucks up and the image ends up looking like this :)

Monday, December 19, 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

a few words about these days

small flags flutter in the gentle breeze.the mild sunlight glows through lovely green leaves at the window sill. the sun comes out and shines on the city as cars whiz by. A few white blooms and soft notes of a flute amidst many many words. What would I do without words?

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Driving and designer bags

So I got my license eons ago but I didn't dare to drive alone for the longest time. Anshuman is a wonderful man but he is very protective when it comes to driving. Somehow he thinks I would be reckless on the road which is far from the truth. For the longest time I only drove with Anshuman in the passenger seat and often ended up really stressed trying so hard not to make a mistake. I asked him several times if I should try driving alone but cautious as he is about my safety the answer was always a negative.
So one day while I was on a holiday and unable to go to India because my visa was in transit I decided to take the plunge and drive to my office alone. My heart beat fast when I changed lanes and I kept checking the speed not wanting to go overboard in my first attempt at driving alone. When I reached the interchange of course I tried to change lanes and people honked at me and gave me dirty looks but I persisted and resultantly got lost for a while. I sweated and fretted about how to get back on to the main highway called the sheikh zayed road. And I did get back on it and I did get to office and parked perfectly at a 60 degree angle. And then I smoked a congratulatory cigarette and came back home.
My legs were shaking with the excitement by the time I got home. I had not told anshuman about my little adventure and I was so thrilled and proud when I did tell him. I knew if I had asked him first he would never have agreed. So the lesson is that you have to take the risk. Face the danger. The most that can happen is that you will have an accident and die and God forbid if you do then it is just your time. I mean i don't want to sound morbid but if you don't take chances and if you don't test yourself it would be hard to achieve things that you dream about and are just too scared to go for it!
So now I know how to go to my office and back. How to go to ibn battuta mall and back. Recently I went to mall of the emirates and got hopelessly lost while trying to get back to office. Anshuman later said I am like abhimanyu in the Mahabharata, I know how to get to mall of the emirates but I don't know how to get home from it. Anyway the point is the more I drive the more I get comfortable and gain confidence.
I still get lost sometimes but that doesn't scare me. In fact I look forward to the 25 minute drive every morning when I listen to music and really relax. Driving has now become dare I say almost therapeutic. I wish I had had the guts to go out on my own earlier but the better late than never.
You must be wondering about the rest of the title of this post. I have seen many Louis Vuitton and Gucci bags and frankly they fail to turn me on. I believe unless you fall in love with something that expensive it is of no point to make a real effort to possess it. I happened to go to the Carolina Herrera shop. Actually I saw a bag in the shop window and I had to go in and see it. As it turned out it was a Carolina Herrera shop. The bag I saw was brown in an amazingly soft material that I caressed lovingly.
There were so many beautiful bags that were so out of my league financially that I walked out of the shop wistfully. I have to admit that the sales staff was very very polite and helpful and friendly and I was happy I had decided to walk in.
So I thought may be I should check out Louis Vuitton as well since they are supposed to have great stuff. So I went in. I hated the bags. They were the dirty brown colour of a shit. I mean I'm sorry guys but you're paying for shit. The sales woman was a snotty conventionally beautiful, immensely tall complete and thorough bitch who gave me the most snobbish look I have ever seen.she told me the price of a shiny blue large bag which looks like it was made out a material that sofas are made out of sometimes in some peoples home that have gross bad taste, it's called rexine. Awful. The designs were shit and the prices were bigger shit.
So I decided to walk in to Dior. The designs were not that great but the staff was nice so I won't rant and rave about it.
All in all I think I would like to get a Carolina Herrera bag but I have no idea how in hell I could justify the cost!

Sunday, August 07, 2011

Dubai, city of life

There's a movie called 'City of Life'. It's about a few threads of stories that happen in the city of Dubai. It truly is the city of life.I've been here for the past five years and have grown leaps and bounds along with it. When I came here we used to live in Sharjah and visits to Dubai were few and far between. I couldn't really recognize much aside from the 'pointy buildings' the Emirates Towers. They were after all the tallest buildings in Dubai at one point before Burj Khalifa towered above all else.
I love the fact that it was here that I started my humble career as a writer and the opportunities I got here have made me the happy person I am today. I love Sheikh Zayed Road, even more so now because I can actually drive now. I got my license a long time ago but started driving alone to work only recently. It is so much fun to put on some favourite music and drive down. Just follow the big ass bus or enjoy changing lanes in the disciplined traffic.
Dubai meant setting up our first independent home. Then when we moved to Dubai I got to do up my home all from scratch as the home we live in now is the first we've owned. I'm very proud of my home. I put every little thing in it with my own hands and I love spending time in it. I'm not much of a social butterfly, more of a homebody and given a choice would spend hours reading or vegetating in front of the tv. When I didn't have a full time job that used to happen often but now I look forward to the weekends to be on my own.
Recently our office moved to Sheikh Zayed Road and I have the best view. I can see the cars whizzing by and the trains crossing each other. For some reason I get mesmerised when the trains pass each other and cannot look away. I love the big windows and the light that comes in and illuminates my desk.
I've met so many wonderful people here. It would be difficult to name all of them but it would suffice to say that I've been fortunate. And with that I want to thank this city for changing my life in such a wonderful way.

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

been a while

since i wrote anything here. So much has happened since I said something on this blog. Life has changed and it has remained the same. There's little I can share on this forum simply because it is so public. May be I wshould start another blog on which I can write stuff that you won't find if you googled my name.
My latest love is an African Grey parrot. I saw him a couple of days ago in a pet shop next to my office. Somehow I feel a kinship to him. When I tap on the window he comes up and taps the glass with his beak. He is the biggest and greyest bird available in the shop. They say Agrican Greys learn to speak. I would love to take him home but my house is crammed with furniture so I have nowhere to keep him plus he is quite expensive and I can't afford him. For now I go to the pet shop every day and say hello to him and he looks at me with wide round eyes. And taps hello.

Monday, June 27, 2011

some journey

unrequited love. It remains sweet through the harsh test of time simply because it is never meant to be. It is one of those things that sounds like a dark emotion but is in fact in it's very nature terribly sweet like bitter chocolate. I know this sounds implausible and incorrect to say the least but that's just how it is and anyone who has been in love and not had the courage to say a few words about it will know what I'm talking about.

I was listening to a song by Suzanne Vega after the longest time and this song is entrenched in this very emotion. The sense of wonder about what could have been. There is a perfect song for each day in my book and today this is the one. Suzanne steals my heart so many times and I hope one day I will be able to say a few words to her before one of us is dead.

Some Journey

by Suzanne Vega

If I had met you on some journey
Where would we be now
If we had met some eastbound train
Through some black sleeping town


Would you have worn your silken robes
All made of royal blue?
Would I have dressed in smoke and fire
For you to see through?


If we had met in a darkened room
Where people do not stay
But shadows touch and pass right through
And never see the day


Would you have taken me upstairs
And turned the lamplight low?
Would I have shown my secret self
And disappeared like the snow?


Oh, I could have played your little girl
Or I could have played your wife
I could have played your mistress
Running danger down through you life


I could have played your lady fair
All dressed in lace like the foam from the sea
I could have been your woman of the road
As long as you did not come back home to me


But as it is, we live in the city
And everything stays in place
Instead we meet on the open sidewalk
And it's well I know your face


We talk and talk, we tell the truth
There are no shadows here
But when I look into your eyes
I wonder what might have been here


Because if I had met you on some journey
Where would we be now?

Sunday, June 05, 2011

Fifth June, Sunday morning, 12:36 pm

This is such an empty day aside from the soothing voice and music of knopfler's Ragpicker's dream...there is absolutely nothing to do and yet here i am sitting in my chair refreshing page after page that throws up nothing new on the screen. such days should be declared holidays but they never are so here i am. And the day is rolling along at a slow pace and there's nothing that I want to think about. Sometimes a blank canvas is best. Quiet and serene. White and pure.
Ok now I'm writing just about anything that comes to mind and hoping that either I will delete this or hopefully no one will bother reading this absolute garbage. So I started writing the long project further. Wrote about a paragraph and then stopped. I sometimes think I need a holiday. Really badly actually. I think I will write if i have the free time but on the other hand i might invest my time sleeping. one of my friends recently told me that sleeping in a very healing activity. Now that might actually be true because your skin cells actually rejuvenate when you're asleep. But i couldn't care less even if they do. The best thing about sleep is dreams. Amazing, sometimes story like and at other times profoundly disturbing. dreams are the stuff that good sleep is made of. You get the best kind of complicated dreams if you sleep with music or tv on. The sound seems to stimulate the mind and you see the most fabulously complex images that are beyond your comprehension. The thing is you don't have to comprehend everything. Just experience the emotion. experience the disturbance and stay with it a while if you can. There's more truth about your mind in dreams than there is in your wakefulness. So go. Go to sleep. and dream.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Boxes

I've been asked more than once why I love boxes so much. I have them in all shapes and sizes with a plethora of things stored away in them. Recently I was looking for some papers and I opened up my old suitcase to find a shoebox full of memories we all seem to have. It has some pictures, some old negatives and a Hi8 cassette. This cassette has a video of a party that happened in one of my college friend's room. The interesting thing is that all of us shared our dreams in that tape. The tape ends with two of my friends chasing a rat and finally catching it. It's really pretty hilarious. This is all from memory ofcourse and I don't even know if this cassette works anymore but I will keep it for posterity.
Ever since I was a child I have kept things stowed away in a box. I spent a lot of time at my maternal grandmother's house as a child. There was a farm in front of the house and I spent a lot of time running around collecting beatles. I thought they were lost and I tried to give them a home in a plastic box. I would show them to my grandmother happily and she used to let them out when I wasn't looking. I could never figure out how they escaped every morning so I went out looking for them again determined to save them.
I collected loose change in match boxes so I could buy new pencils. I've always loved pencils and still do. You could read my post about how I stole a Leo Burnett pencil from a colleague's desk. The post is somewhere on this blog.Now I have a box for make up, for soaps, for jewellery that I never wear, for passports, for keepsakes, for anshuman's watch, for loose change, for stationary items, for anshuman's cuff links, for semi important papers, for important papers, for assorted wires, for bed sheets and pillow covers, for pictures and for things that I can't even remember.
It's the things that I forget that are the most important. When you open a box after a long time has passed by it suddenly brings the past back to your mind in it's full glory. It shows you things you may have forgotten that were once so very important. I try very hard to run from the past. I conciously try never to think about it. I have tried in my life to always live in the moment but nothing can take the place of the sheer beauty of nostalgia. And sometimes I give in and let myself be transported back for a few minutes till I find myself smiling and thinking to myself where did it go?
On a more practical note boxes are great for organizing stuff if you can remember what's in them. Almost all my friends bring me a box back from whichever country they happen to visit. Everyone knows if you want to make Parul happy, get her a box. So Anshuman brought back a lovely small box from Romania. It has three pearls on it and a picture of a little girl. There were three colourful beetles inside who are on my refrigerator now and look like they may fly away any second. So that's about why I have so many boxes. Also sometimes I wonder...may be I collect them because I'm secretive and possesive of my memories. May be...

Monday, May 23, 2011

in love

to me falling in love has never just been about a man. I've fallen in love with books, music and movies just as much. I feel the same heartache when I hear a song that I might have felt if I was actually falling in love for the first time.At every stage in life there has been a song and I have been in love with the song much more than I have been with the man. It seems to belittle the man but actually I can't help it. The emotions of a recorded voice can move you to fall in love and even do silly things like dance with yourself...alone and happy and the man you're in love with becomes a hazy image limited to an image of the dream you have of him . And then there's the fact that songs, books and movies last for life while a man may or may not. I know this sounds callous but I think it's also true.
Sometimes writers say things in a way that makes you want to believe them. You know that it's just a song or it's just a line in a book but something within your heart wants to believe there's a truth within the words somewhere. I have so much respect for composers, they understand a language that is not only universal, it is also the sweetest of them all. They weave notes that become a part of your heart for eternity and it doesn't matter when you hear the song, that part of your heart comes alive, it aches. it sings and sometimes it dances to a tune it has known for years and years.
Falling in love has so much to do with the song you listen to over and over again till a memory becomes indelible on the notes and then you may try to do away with the memory and listen purely to the words and the notes dispassionately but it takes a long time before you can do that. It's like getting over a deep trauma. Only time can heal you and no amount of objectivity and reality checks will get you through the pain of falling in love with a song.

Thursday, May 05, 2011

I'm ready



Sometimes I want to be able to write the words of the songs but I can't...you can't hear a song by just writing the notes unless you're a composer and have the music in your mind. What can I say, music is like blood in my veins. Sometimes I fall in love with a song and I listen to it over and over again for days and it's just so amazing that there are no words to describe it.
This song is one of my all time favourites. I've been in love with Mark Knopfler for so long that I think I simply forgot about this soulful song by Bryan Adams. If I write down the words, they're so ordinary but when Adams sings them my heart sings with him and I love it. I love it.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

the difficulty of happiness

Yes it's a known fact that happiness is difficult, moody, eccentric and sometimes kind and abundant. In the last few days that have been more difficult than most I have realised that I was happy most of the time. The happiness rarely comes from the things that I pursue everyday. It does sometimes, but rarely. Most of the time it comes from an inner place that I feel connected to. This place is like a garden where my dreams and hopes and desires live and are nurtured by the people who truly love me and myself. It is a place which brings complete emotional security that is a product of sheer love and hope. It has very little to do with the daily circle of actions and reactions of the physical life.
Last few days have been so interesting because I could have been feeling rather sad most of the time but I wasn't. I felt as though I was connected to my inner life, my inner happiness and a vision of a future in which I saw happiness as more or less a permanent resident. I could preach to you and tell you that everyone has this inner place within themselves. Honestly, I don't know. And moreover even though I have found this place, it is not easy to keep in touch with this thing we call happiness. Like I said it is difficult and an illusion. An illusion that can sometimes define your future itself. So today when you look at someone you love remember to tell them this,"Thank you for living in my inner garden of happiness."
And yet, it's so difficult this happiness. Sometimes you can swim to the core of your soul and not find it. Sometimes it bursts forth like a spring through your being.

Monday, April 11, 2011

Getting to know an old song

Sometimes you hear a song but you don't really hear it. The notes only touch the surface of your skin. And then one day after hearing the same song many times before suddenly there comes a new clarity to the words. The music finally gets absorbed in the pores and begins to flow through your blood. You begin to understand the lyricist a little bit. May be this happens because you need tobe in a certain place in your life for your soul to open up to certain words strung through music.
I've been listening to 'Private Investigations' by Dire Straits for a long time now but these days it moves me like it has never done before. I get lost in the voice and the words. I write this as I'm listening to it. It's sad but somehow rings of reality and truth that most of us try to avoid, by getting busy. With chores, work, life, whatever. I'm not saying don't be busy, I'm just saying let your soul feed on a song sometimes.Here are the lyrics that are touching me these days. Knopfler's voice itself is a song, even when he is just speaking.

Private Investigations
Lyrics- Mark Knopfler

It's a mystery to me, the game commences
For the usual fee, plus expenses
Confidential information, it's in a diary
This is my investigation,it's not a public inquiry
I go checking out the reports, digging up the dirt
You get to meet all sorts, in this line of work
Treachery and treason, there's always an excuse for it
And when I find the reason, I still can't get used to it
And what have you got at the end of the day?
What have you got to take away?
A bottle of whiskey and a new set of lies
Blinds on the window and the pain behind your eyes
Scarred for life, no compensation
Private investigations

And the song ends as I finish this post.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

some days

are so slow that you feel like pushing them towards their conclusion. Today is just such a day when no interesting mails come by and there isn't so very much to do. I have taken to wearing high heels, the ones with a broad base so that there is no excruciating pain. My new shoes are digging into my toes and calluses are on their way. Sometimes I think one can never be tall enough on the other hand people more than six and a half feet look pretty stange to me.
I remember there was a very tall man in Leo Burnett. Once he said hello to me in the lift and I said,"You're very tall." He replied,"Not in Germany." So I guess it's all pretty relative in the end.
I suffer from a variety of ailments which I mostly ignore. The big man upstairs likes to keep my life interesting. I have been told to exercise by two separate doctors.I need to bring my weight down. I would love to start exercising again because when I did do it regularly, I actually enjoyed it and lost a few kilos as well. Now I will have to do it after work and I'm not sure what my level of motivation will be once i get out of the office at six.
I've been trying to write and that gnawing fear of not being a good enough writer eats away at me sometimes though fortunately there are times when I do feel like I can do something worthwhile with words. What would I do if I couldn't write? I'm so thankful every day that I can.

stupid fortunetelling website

so i went to this website where you can ask yes or no questions and get tarot readings etc. etc.
Here are the yes and no questions

Will I write a book?
No
Will my book get published?
Yes
Will my book be successful?
Yes
Will I be famous as an author?
Yes
Will I murder my husband? (Anshuman asked me to ask that)
Yes
Will my husband murder me?
Yes
Will my husband and I murder each other?
No

Such crap I tell you. But this day has been such a waste of time. I wish I could have wasted this time at home instead of at office but...such is life baby!

Monday, February 14, 2011

Wasting time

It's very important to waste some time during the day or even waste the whole day once in a while. There are many things that I do to waste my time at work. Don't get me wrong, I make sure I work really hard and really fast so that I have some time to waste. It's something I cannot live without. Here are some well known methods of wasting time and some of my favourites.
1. Facebook- 99% of the stuff I do on facebook is a waste of time but it's very important to me.
2. Twitter- it's a complete and utter waste of my time and I'm beginning to like it
3. Smoking- No excuse, a waste of time and a health hazard
4. Doodling- The only really pretty thing I can sketch is an eye. Not two eyes. Just one eye. If I try sketching two they are always out of proportion. Despicable for someone who went to design school. In my defence I stayed away from Graphics and animation.
5. Writing Mark Knopfler lyrics over and over- Ok this may seem like a waste of time but it makes me feel good.
6. Sitting and thinking about...nothing in particular...just letting thoughts roll by like water. That's a true favourite.

Blogging again for some might be considered a waste of time but for me it's like a big journal I'm gonna leave for my grandkids. Although they may not be interested. Who cares I love it!

btw it's valentine's day. so love everybody if you can and be happy.

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

whining

ok this post is just to whine about how tired I am and every morning just thinking about my day makes me want to be my own pet dog. I want to eat, sleep,and play and lick my owner. Just imagine how nice it would be if someone took care of you all your life. You could be a baby and be loved by all.

Instead I run after a taxi everyday and send apologetic messages when I get late, then I work, work, work and then I run after cabs that whiz by paying no heed then I run after the bus which does not go to my house but near my house but not walking distance so I run run run after a taxi and then I finally get home then I clean home then I make tea then I feed dog and then sit in front of the TV like there's nothing else more interesting in the whole wide world. I am tired just writing this.

Anshuman is in Kolkata for a few days and I miss his company and being able to call him whenever i feel like. I don't like it much when he's not there. It makes me feel even more tired. I'm getting old very quickly I think. I need exercise and nutritous food and mostly lots of time love and tenderness.

Monday, February 07, 2011

the need to write

It's like an obsession. I write on the computer, the notebook, the notepad, the diary, dirty cars, paper napkins, post its. I write awareness, health, charity, beauty articles,articles about animals, hollywood gossip, news about animals, about Holiday destinations, my blog, mark knopfler's lyrics (over and over)and I still find some junk to write in my yearly diary.The good thing is that I love most of it, actually aside from the Hollywood gossip I love all of it.

I get to know some great interesting stuff such as two drunk men were stopped by a cop. The cop found that there was a surprising third passenger, a goat. When he asked the men where they found it, they had no answer. All they were sure about was that it didn't belong to them. I found this very funny somehow and laughed for a good minute.

But writing all the time can also be pretty exhausting and aside from taking frequent breaks, I google french bulldog puppies. I dare you not to smile at them. They are just so damn cute. I made a little movie about Ninna with a flip camera. Basically a very small video camera(as big a cell phone) and edited it on Windows movie maker. It was great fun. Now that I am no longer a film maker, I love shooting and editing.

And now I will try to write an article on Siamese cats. Did you know that Siamese cats chew on wool when they are nervous? Just some wierd things I know. Occupational hazard!

Clothes

Every morning you have to rummage through the drawers and try to find a decent pair of clothes. Sometimes it is so frustrating that i wish there was a single uniform for everyone. A uniform to go to office. A pair of pyjamas for home and another one for everything else. It would be so much simpler. Honestly I would be quite relieved if that was the case. Everyone would look the same. You wouldn't be spending thousands of rupees every year on new clothes and accessories.

When I joined this office I was specifically told to dress formally. Formal is the opposite of Parul Gahlot. Andyet i have to find decent clothes to wear every morning. I have to admit some days are easier than the otehrs when my favorite clothes have been washed and ironed and on other days I just get irritated trying to decide. You should not be expected to make decisions in the morning.

Ok I'm done talking about clothes.

Thursday, February 03, 2011

people who walk by

This is about all the strangers that you meet in life and then forget. You see some of them everyday even like my neighbour who teaches Math. She is a very pretty woman from Pakistan who I have spoken to may be four or five times. She has given me sugar and milk and change for 500 bucks and that's about all the introduction I have. She is still a stranger to me and sometimes I feel may be I am missing out on knowing a really nice person.

Then there is this Philipino woman who walks past me almost daily near the office. I always smile at her but ofcourse we never speak. There's an Indian woman who dresses in men's shirts, jeans and shoes everyday and passes by smoking a cigarette. Every time she goes by I wonder who she is and what she does but ofcourse I couldn't possibly ask.

Then there are these people who you know at a very cursory level and you never go beyond it because you are comfortable in that superficial space. There's this Sudanese guy who dresses in shorts and T shirt in winter and comes down to smoke often. He is an Account Director in an ad agency and believes it is 'cool' to dress like that. I once saw him wearing a velvet jacket. One time he asked me,"How would you like to be briefed as a copywriter?" I gave him a very vague answer because I don't know the proper large words. I almost have an allergy to large words. Keep it simple I say. Anyway he was not impressed and the fuck I care. So that relationship will always remain in the realm of 'Hi! How are you?'

There are many young mothers in my building and with the exception of two of them my relationship with the rest also falls in the above category. They are anyway quite busy running after and disciplining their respective children. Then there is this German guy whose name I used to know but now forget who lives in the building opposite mine. He has a mixed breed dog called Bobby. Bobby is in love with Ninna and Ninna is in love with him. Unfortunately due to the difference in their breeds they cannot be mated. That does not stop them from looking at each other longingly. Whenever I take Ninna for a walk in the evening she automatically goes near his window and he jumps at the glass and lets out these plaintive howls till the owner opens the window, I pick up Ninna so that Bobby and she can lick each others' faces. It is an adorable moment. I say hello to the guy. I ask how are you and then I walk away but it is a nice moment due to the doggy love even though we are strangers.

Then there are people with whom you end up sharing a cab. You almost never meet them again. There are people who ask for directions on the road and if you're a nice person you don't give them wrong directions. There are the taxi drivers, the people in the bus and train who sit next to you for a while. There is a certain beauty in almost all the people who walk by.

Thursday is my Friday

Yes in Dubai the week comes to an end on Thursday instead of friday and today is Thursday so I am very keen for time to pass by quickly. In my last post I was whining about the fact that 'time is slipping through my fingers' and today i am shaking the hourglass but the sand just won't go through to the other side.

I eat idlis every day for breakfast at Bombay Chowpatty a restaurant close to my office. Sometimes they give me too much sabzi in my sambhar and then I can't dunk the entire idli into it. I am rather embarrassed to tell them to not give me sabzis for some reason. Don't ask. Wierd things embarrass me. The most embarrassing question I ever have to answer and I've had to answer it many times, is "How much is your salary expectation?' This embarrasses me to no end. It's not that money is a dirty thing. It's just that I can never be quite sure what my time is worth in terms of money.

Time is so precious. Working in an office is my time away from my dog, my family, my friends, my writing adventures and that to me is priceless. No matter how much money you give me it's never enough. i guess that's true of most people, no matter how much you have it, you could always use some more.

I like buying boxes and they cost money that could probably be saved if I didn't buy them. Yes I agree with that but on the other hand I find it hard to not buy them. Money by it's very nature is tempting you all the time to just spend it. Yes I agree you're supposed to think about your future and kids and old age and stuff like that but I happen to love boxes and giving people gifts. I try to be a miser and believe me I've really tried I become really miserable after a while. Yes I agree money doesn't exist so it's spent the moment you get it but it's going to be spent SOME day. The trick I guess is to delay that day as much as you can and causing that delay makes me miserable after a while.

So to end this I promise to delay that day as much as I can and be a responsible citizen of my marriage.

Monday, January 17, 2011

I'm so vain...



I'm so vain, I think every song is about me :)

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

sleepiness

the hazard of working full time is that post lunch you tend to fall asleep on your desk with your chin in the cradle of your palm. I think one should be given time to take power naps which are generally good for an employee's health but then I am a true and literal dreamer. I like the day dreams but the real morning dreams are a nightmare. I don't think that sentence makes any sense whatsoever. Anyway after the longest time I am writing on the blog because I have absolutely nothing else to do which could effectively keep me awake. I have to continue typing away for the longest time so that my lids do not become heavy and droop and then comfortably close in a formal office atmosphere.

I had a horrible dream in the morning. There's a reason for that. Every morning Anshuman and I lie half awake half asleep in bed and try to get the other to wake up and make tea. So we had the same ritual today and I fell asleep after the unpleasant half asleep conversation. I overslept and had a horrible dream to boot. I dreamt that Anshuman was very unhappy and was going to leave me because I don't cook every morning and every night. And then some people shut me in a dark room and I kept screaming to be let out and Anshuman didn't come to rescue me.

I don't know what the dream meant but it made sure I had a horrible morning. I gulped my tea, brushed my teeth, washed my face, changed my clothes and ran out to chase a taxi. Taxis are moody. sometimes there are a large number of them and sometimes there are more people and less cabs. And then invariably you end up getting frustrated because the cabbie does not have change to give you.

So you rush to the office to realise that no one is on time today. The damn office is empty and if the receptionist had been missing too I would have thought someone forgot to tell me that the weekends had already arrived.

The weekend begins day after tomorrow but even my weekends are full of tarot readings and doctor's visits. Honestly I'm a little tired and need some tender loving care...

The new issue of the magazine i've started working for is coming out on sunday. So that's a good thing that i'm looking forward to. will send a copy to my parents and in-laws. They will feel happy and on thath cheerful thought i will say adios!