Reminiscing the Funny

For weeks now, I've been trying to come up with something to write about, so as to entertain my hardworking friends, who slave all day long, while I fart away happily into the same chair that is literally glued to the computer table. While I was browsing my brain for 'interesting' things to write about, I came across funny little memories and stories that have made me laugh everytime I stumble upon them. So, I decided to be an upstanding citizen and compiled a few of these stories that I hope would bring some much needed laughter in your lives.

Every summer in Hyderabad was filled with fun, laughter and moments that I cherish to this day. We would spend half the holidays with my paternal grandparents and the rest with the maternal side. Both households provided us with incredibly hilarious memories. During the stay at my paternal grandparents house, my brother and I would spend a lot of time in the house next door with our second cousins. My grandmother had (infact, she still does) this habit to wash the tap before she washed her hands and then once she washed her hands she would wash the tap again. OCD at it's funniest best. The thing was...she made us do it too. So everytime we went anyhere near the sink, she would pop out of nowhere and chant, "Haath dho, tooti dho, haath dho" (Wash your hands, wash the tap, wash your hands). It would make us laugh everytime, without fail. She'd be standing over our heads and we'd be snickering away. I remember how we used to open doors with our feet, because the moment our hands touched the door frame or knob, our grandmother would know and would make us wash our hands. It's a miracle that our hands aren't all wrinkly by now. So everytime we hung out with our cousins, the 6 or 7 of us would be running around the room chanting, with all the strength of our larynxes, "Haath dho, tooti dho, haath dho". We even came up with a little dance. I wonder if our grandmother, in the next house, ever heard us. Till this day, everytime the cousins get together, we laugh about it. And my grandmother is still at it, and we love her for it!

My maternal grandmother was a rockstar. She was an extraordinary mimic and parties were thrown just so everyone could get together to watch her mimicry. Those were the good times. And I have countless funny memories of my grandma. She reminds me of myself, a lot actually. She did things that really cracked people up. Dinner was a big affair at my grandparents' place. After dinner, all the cousins would sit around and chat away into the night. One night, as everyone was sprawled around after a delicious Hyderabadi meal, my grandma spotted, what she thought was a cardamom seed on the dinner table. She picks it up and says, "Aiyo, elaichi ka dana pada hai idhar"(Oh! There's a cardamom seed lying here), and she pops it into her mouth before anyone could stop her. Soon enough she realised that it wasn't a cardamom seed, but lizard shit. Of course there were peals of laughter, and stomachs hurt for days after the incident. She always knew how to make us laugh, even involuntarily.

My mother has her moments too. She makes hillarious comments during movies that have us peeing our pants, and her storytelling technique is side-splitting. And I have a feeling it had something to do with an incident that happened when she was about 4 years old. My Uncle Jazz who was around 6 years old at the time had had enough of seeing the adults downing all the beer and not offering him any. When the parents went out for a lunch party, Uncle Jazz found some beer bottles and convinced my Mum to drink along with him. A couple of hours later, my grandparents returned to find Uncle Jazz and Mum, in their knickers, sprawled on the floor with empty bottles of beer all around them. I've often wished I was there to witness that.

This same Uncle would get super excited everytime he would hear the drums of a funeral procession. He would sprint out of the house and follow the procession. The people at the procession would throw coins and murmura (crispy puffed rice) over the dead body. And dear Uncle Jazz would pick up the coins and the murmura and fill his pockets up to the brim. Then he would swoop some more murmura in his hands and return home munching on it. His day was made, everytime some poor soul had an appointment with the Maker.

I'm beginning to understand now where all my stupidity and crazy behaviour might have come from. My dad's sister was probably the most notorious person in my entire family. The things she did put me to shame, but I've tried to follow in her footsteps the best I can. She hated studying and would do anything to avoid class tests. So one day she decided she simply had to get the damn test cancelled. She made her way to the chemistry lab and stole some hydrogen sulphide. Once she was in class, she threw it around and soon enough the class started smelling of rotten eggs. The test was cancelled, the kids were thrilled and my aunt was a success. Until Sister Anne (the class teacher) realised that only my aunt could've been behind the Rotten Egg incident. "There's a nasty spirit in the class", Sister Anne proclaims. My aunt looks up with a cheeky grin, knowing fully that she had just landed herself in big trouble. And even now, she relates the incident with a twinkle of pride in her eyes.

Schools and tests remind me of something my brother did once. The final exams were coming soon and my dad felt the need to have a little chat with my brother, "Talib, I want you to pass with flying colours". My brother nodded enthusiastically and then went into his room. A few minutes later he came out holding a bunch of sketch pens. Our attention is solely on him, waiting for him to say something. He throws the sketch pens in the air and turns to my dad, "There you go, your flying colours, now all I need to do is pass". I think that was perhaps my brother's only moment of ingeniousness.

My friend Nicolas was quite the naughty one growing up. And all his mischievousness was directed towards his little brother Damien. One fine morning he stripped Damien of all his clothes and pushed him out of the main door, naked as the day he was born. Poor Damien begs his brother to let him in, but Nic shows no mercy. Damien finds a potted plant and tries to cover himself from straying eyes. A while later, the postman shows up. The postman sees little Damien trying to cover his nakedness behind the plant and really wants to help the poor kid, but doesn't really want to have anything to do with a naked child. So there, on the porch of the Chevaillier home, stand the postman and bare-assed Damien. Nic watches the entire thing from inside his house, laughing mirthfully at his mischief. I think it's about time Damien got back! Watch out Nicky :)

Another story of nudity and laughter was relayed to me by my dear old friend, Vader. Vader was visiting his friends in Delhi during the summer break. Please remember, this is a bunch of pubescent boys and they could never be up to any good. Vader's friend tells him that he had recently spied a very hot, slightly older girl showering in the house next door. They decide to go on a little quest of sexual satisfaction. Under the cover of night, the boys climb ladders and roofs and finally find a good spot from where they could watch the sexy girl lather and wash herself. The boys shivering with anticipation, eyes shining with unadulterated lust, palms sweating with excitement, and weenies twitching with glee, wait for the luscious beauty to arrive. The door opens, the boys hold their breath. In walks, an old lady with a massive behind. There is an audible sigh, and it's a good thing the old are usually deaf. Vader and his boys hope that the old lady would do her job and leave soon, so that her more appealing grand-daughter could come in for her nightly shower. The horny little buggers had no idea what was in store for them. "Phhqqwaaashhhh", the sound of a big turd splashing echoed in the bathroom. Vader and his friends, wide-eyed and shocked beyond belief, scarred forever; covered their mouths and noses. The Granny farted some more, washed her ass and left; the bathroom was reeking of mojo killing scent. Vader and the boys fled from there, never to return, worried that this incident would kill their every uplifting moment. Damn the bathing beauty!

For me, these stories are the best way to remember people. I might have not been there, but the imagination is a powerful thing and to imagine these people that I love and adore, in these extremely hilarious situations, always brings a smile to my face. Unfortunately, I never remember the crazy shit I did back then...but others do, and that's how they seem to remember me.

The Dream Machine

A call late last night, jarred not only my sleep, but also my peace of mind- which is usually a state of blissful ignorance. This friend, (from now on referred to as Ms. Dawson) decided that 3.45 am was the ideal time to bring up the scary and distant future. I was listening to Dramamine and dreaming of standing on a cliff, rocks below me, the sea spread out like a blanket ahead of me and light streaming from the stars above me; an absence of vertigo. I can feel it, my dream was just about to get interesting...suddenly the space near my arm starts vibrating and Oren Lavie sings out of my phone. And then the most dreadful conversation began. Ms. Dawson seemed to be having a major quarter life crisis and she was happily dragging me into her hell. Her crisis was instigated by a trip down memory lane. And as she spoke about it, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole...Peking Pecker!, I thought. This is only going to be unpleasant.

Ms. Dawson and I met in the 1st grade, but our journey really began in the 8th. When she entered class on the first day, I apparently told her that the place beside me was taken. A few days later our class teacher made us partners. The class teacher that brought us together was essentially the one who tore us apart. Bitch! Once we became partners, we realised our fathers went to the same boarding school and we knew right then and there that we were meant to be friends forever. We also found we had lots in common, the most promising of the commonalities being, our love for boy-bands and hollywood celebrities. We made lists and lists of all those gorgeous men that made our hearts flutter. We loved LDC with an unrivaled passion. We made plans of studying in university abroad, joining a sorority, finding our perfect pretty boys, sharing an apartment in New York City. Ms. Dawson would become a Grammy winning singer and I would be Hollywood's new shining star. Those were our dreams, however unrealistic people thought they were. We believed they would be a reality one day. And how we believed!

Looking back now, Ms. D and I realized our mistake. We stopped at the believing. Never did anything about making our dreams come true. We could've had it all- the university, the sorority, who knows maybe even a Grammy and an Oscar. But we stopped at the believing. Perhaps, one of my only regrets to date. At 13, I had imagined a totally different life for myself and got something else instead. On my 25th birthday, I imagined a certain future for myself and my biggest fear now is getting the 'something else' instead. It's scary...Stephen King scary!

Goosebumps was the next topic of discussion. The both of us have been big time believers of goosebumps and butterflies fluttering in the stomach. We wondered when the time for goosebumps runs out. When do you stop feeling them? What if you'll never be with the only person who gave you those butterflies? Or do these butterflies find their way into your stomach as a side effect of lust? These questions remained unanswered, but the both of us found that we wanted to keep a special place in our tummies for these butterflies to breed for as long as we lived. A life without butterflies; a world without butterflies, is unpretty and gloomy. (Readers- If you have answers to the above questions, please feel free to share).

Ms. Dawson and I, always the optimisits, figured that, even though our teenage selves didn't get what they imagined; our 25 year old selves certainly could. We hurriedly made more plans, built fortresses in the air, promised each other that we would do more than just believing.

Life is scary and unpredictable. And Imagination is a handy little umbrella that helps you weather the storm. And dreams...Dreams are a realization of aspirations. All I plan to do now, is make it happen. I will continue to dream, but with my eyes open this time, watching it all become a reality.

Dear Embarassment,

There is only so much embarassment you can go through in a day, and still come out of it with your smile intact. Embarassing situations and I, we're buddies! We've crossed paths so often that now all I can do is laugh. I remember this one time in school; this school had a no uniform policy, so we could wear whatever the hell we felt like, and obviously that didn't work out. So, one day I decided to wear a shirt that had a zipper instead of buttons on it, (to imagine, an aunt actually gifted that shirt to me-what was she thinking, seriously?!) and that dreadful decision would lead me to embarassment of titanic proportions. During lunch break, I'm just hanging out with my girls and suddenly a rather naughty friend of mine decides to have some fun at my expense. She pretends to play with the zipper and before I know it, she's totally unzipped it. My dignity literally flew away like a little canary escaping a crocodile's mouth. It took me a while to register what had just happened, actually it was more like a few seconds and a few aghast looks, sounds of snickering and some shameless laughter. My hands flew to the sides of my now open shirt and I brought it together, got the other girls to cover me and I put my zip up, pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. I do remember laughing about it too. Simply because, if given the chance I would've done the same to someone else. That was just one example of my humiliation. And there have been many.

It seems like I invite this embarassment to myself. Since my brain doesn't function normally, my mouth clearly has no stopper, my hands randomly grope things, my bum starts to do the hippy shake at odd times; and off late I've found that I do that typical Bollywood breast-thrust at the most inappropriate times. Seriously, what is wrong with me? The upside of this, though, is that it does make people laugh, even fits of laughter commence from my rather obscene behaviour.

Today, I was at a friend's mehendi/sangeet and the most hilarious thing happened. I think wedding photographers have the best job in the world. The fact that they can manipulate someone like my friend- who could be rather stubborn and who would've said years ago that she would never pose a certain way during her wedding- to pose for such horrendous, cringe-worthy, laughable photos. This guy gets my friend to pose against a wall, her palms flat on the wall and her leg slightly up the length of the wall. From my standpoint it looked like she was humping the wall. To make things worse, the photographer calls the groom and asks him to stand behind my friend-the-bride, with his hands on her shoulder and it seriously looked like he was doing to her what she was doing to the wall. It was hillarious. And of course, since my brain or vocal chords have no filter, my joke was doing the rounds soon enough. It's safe to say it kept us entertained all night. Another instance of embarassment of comical proportions. I can only thank Merlin that it wasn't me this time!

But I didn't have to wait long. Merlin got back with a vengeance.

The first embarassment of the day was rather humiliating and a story I would rather not write about, only because it didn't have any humour in it. But the second one was entertaining. Knowing very well that I have severe stage fright, I still signed up for the dance at the sangeet. Three practice sessions later, I was still copying every move the friend-bride made, including the steps that were ONLY for her. Luckily though, I got to share this embarassment with another friend. We both ended up making a whole bunch of mistakes and burst out laughing in the middle of the dance. To top that off, our friends were sitting on the side watching us and laughing their fannies off. Every now and then, we would glance in their direction and watching them laugh would make us break into giggles. It was mental! I was red in the face, all flushed with the routine and the laughing, and the embarassment of having messed up and laughed on the stage in front of a room full of people. But, it was the most fun I had in quite sometime and I even kind of lost a bit of that stage fright. I was dhan tana-ing away the rest of the night.

So if I've learned anything from embarassing situations, it is this- Embarassing situations exist because they definitely attract this funny little thing called Laughter. And what would we do without laughter in our lives eh?! So, Embarassment, you're welcome for a cup of tea, anytime! Looking forward to seeing you soon. Ciao!

The Headlines Today

Saucy sees dear friend off to the gallows!

I spent yesterday morning at the courthouse in Bandra, watching a friend sign away her future. And I thought to myself, there you go...Another one bites the dust!!!

Well, no matter how appealing this marriage (gallows) humor is, I shall refrain from it. I am truly happy for her and for the others who call me at 2 in the morning to inform me of their upcoming nuptials. I'm sure it's an exciting time in their life. They're in love, they've found someone they can tolerate on a 'forever' basis, and hopefully (more like, Better be!) the sex is good enough. Aren't those the 3 basic essentials for a good marriage anyway? Though when I think about it...the being- married-to-one-person-for-the-rest-of-your-life thing is both daunting and appealing. Appealing, because it definitely is a romantic notion. To have found the one person you can actually see beside you at the rather difficult age of 85, building a life and a family with this one person, sharing 'your' life and dreams with this person, and most appealing is the fact that this damn person is YOURS as much as you are theirs. It's the sweetest possession. And don't we all love that feeling?! Marriage, a more 'legal' form of a relationship, is appealing because you know you will not be lonely for a very very long time to come; whether it's love galore or daily arguments, you're not alone.

On the other hand, marriage is daunting as hell. Promising to love and cherish ONE person for the rest of your life...come on! If that's not daunting, what is?! The only people you can happily and relentlessly love, are your parents and siblings, and that is more or less a natural phenomenon. Once you're married, you have to consider this other person's opinion before you make most of your decisions. You can hardly take care of your shit, now you have to start taking care of theirs. You've, pretty much, spent your entire life getting what you want, when you want; but now you have to do the most annoying thing ever...Compromise! When you fight your own battles, you only think- Strategy and survival. Now with this extra person in the fray, you have to think Strategy, Survival and making sure this other person doesn't pop it(ie. Saving if required). Because their popping it, would hinder your survival...because you now depend on this person. There goes your independence, down the drain! And honestly, we all do love and lust after independence. As a friend rightly put it,"Well, marriage is damn scary, because I love my independence!" But she is willing to admit that if she found a man who she could get along with, without wanting to kill him, then maybe she would give it a THOUGHT.

To add to all that, the parental units, aunts and uncles, grandpas and grandmas are like eager little puppies impatiently waiting for us to tie the proverbial knot. The dreadful 'arranged marriage' comes into play here. It would be best to leave that argument for another day. It's endearing how parents are always so concerned about your well being, but marriage seems to be a rather sore point between parents and offsprings. Specially for us girls; parents seem to think that the older we get, the chances of us finding a suitable partner, become lesser. And once again my friend Priyanka defiantly proclaimed to her Mum, "I don't need the institution of marriage to validate my existence and worth". You go girl! But I guess we should keep in mind that most of our parents insist on marriage because they don't want us to end up as lonely old cat ladies. At least that's what they believe. And thus, the age old argument between parents and their offsprings will continue.

As most of you know, I'm a die hard romantic and I would happily jump on to the marriage-ship provided I found that silly bloke who would make my heart flutter, make me laugh till I peed my pants and gave me butterflies in the stomach even when we're old and gray. I'm obviously optimistic enough to believe that that is even possible. I guess for me, marriage is like a quest. I can see it...me and the silly bloke on a rickety little boat, in the middle of the ocean, battling sea creatures, manuevering through rough tides, enjoying a little sunshine on the horizon and making sweet love under the protective blanket of stars. Wishful thinking? Perhaps! But we here at the Lair of the Saucy Minx, encourage lots and lots of day dreaming.

So I guess, the consensus is: Marriage is scary, but it's exhilirating. It's ideal, but not necessary or compulsory. It's romantic, but the romance is almost always temporary. It's the next step, but by no means a determination of love. It's an institution (thus man-made), not a law of nature. That is the other 'M'...mating. And we've never needed marriage for mating, have we?!

DISCLAIMER: These are the (obviously) confused ramblings of a bored and jobless 25 year old.

Saucy and the Condom Factory

Some of the most awkward moments take place at the Chemist. Like when you go to buy the monthly supply of Whisper Ultra, the guy refuses to look into your eyes when he's handing the package over to you. And why do they feel the need to wrap it in a newspaper or brown paper bag? What are they so embarassed about anyway? It's as natural as pooping for heaven's sake, yet they never feel awkward when they're giving you Isaab gol or other laxatives!

Condoms are the other thing that have maximum embarassment potential.

I've bought condoms a couple of times, but always for friends (I feel the need to make that clear for some reason). It's always been a funny experience, which is probably why I agree to go buy it in the first place. I think it's the only time the chemist actually wonders what kind of a person you are. Probably even wonders when you're going to put those condoms to use, or with whom. If I were a chemist, I would have a whole story flowing in my head while selling the condoms. I enjoy this; I enjoy the fact that this man is trying to figure out who I am, and why I'm buying the condoms when it's usually the guy's job. Which is why, my most recent condom buying experience has now become one of my many, most unforgettable moments.

Friday at midnight, we find ourselves in a Toyota Innova , returning from a party. Thumbelino, his mummy- Blue Shadow, The Warrior Princess, and I are inebriated and sleepy. Thumbelino and the Warrior Princess were in dire need of condoms that night, and had mentioned it to me at the party. Now if you know Saucy Minx well enough, you should know that I am a very helpful friend, and therefore I decided I would make it my mission to get these kids their condoms. I instructed the driver to stop at the next All Night Chemist. Surprisingly there were none between Altamount road and Mahim, where we finally stopped. The Chemist was situated just in front of the Mahim Masjid. It already felt so wrong. I told Blue Shadow that I had to buy medicines for my diarrhoea and asked Thumbelino to accompany me. The two of us got out of the car and began to giggle uncontrolably. We cross the road and land at the Chemist counter. The guy at the counter is busy scribbling in his records, least concerned about what we want. In the meanwhile, Thumbelino and I are glancing at each other bashfully, not knowing what to do. Finally I say to Thumbelino, "Dude this is your thing, you do it!!" I hardly got all that out of my mouth, and Thumbelino blurts out, "CONDOM".

Now let me go a few seconds back in time... When we arrived at the chemist counter, we were surrounded by all these dutiful Muslim men in their skullcaps, who didn't even notice us. It's close to 12.30 am and yet this place is quite busy. The Chemist is writing in his records, probably wondering when this day would end. He's bored out of his mind, his wife's being a bitch, and bringing children up is no joke. This day could only get worse, he thinks to himself. He can feel our presence but is in no mood to acknowledge us.

Back to the present, Thumbelino just blurted out "Condom". The bored Chemist literally jumps in his place and his head pops up to meet ours. And that's not all...the entire place has got silent and everyone is staring in our direction- the chubby girl in a flowing black skirt and the white boy in a waistcoat. The Chemist has this all knowing smile on his face; which no matter what he did, he could not wipe off. The three of us stare at each other for a few seconds; the chemist still smiling. Finally he nods and goes in the back to get the condoms. Thumbelino and I burst out laughing, seriously embarassed. All of them are probably imagining Thumbelino and me at it, like bunnies. They're also perhaps amazed that the both of us came to buy condoms, together! Who does that?! And to top it off, when the Chemist returned with the condoms; IN A BROWN PAPER BAG, Thumbelino removes his wallet and discovers he has only a 50 rupee note! So, I end up paying the other 50. We're all about the sharing and caring!

For some reason I decide to ask the guy what brand he's selling us. Another smile and a reply, "Durex. Six for 100". Right, so durex it is and 6! (The image of 6 used up condoms, lying beside a messed up bed, pops into my dirty, filthy mind) I boldly remove it from the brown paper bag and hand it over to Thumbelino, "Stuff it in your pocket. I can't possibly hand over the bag to you in front of Mother Blue Shadow". He manages to stuff it in his pocket and we turn around towards the car. We break into another bout of giggles while crossing the road. I tell Thumbelino, "Dude we're so going to be laughing about this when we're 80 and toothless!" We get into the car, still giggling, but Mother Blue Shadow is sleepier and possibly even more inebriated to notice something is amiss. The night is soon over, the memory making me laugh myself to sleep.

The next day, the Warrior Princess informs me on how well Thumbelino and the durex performed. I was pleased. My embarassment, the loss of my 50 rupees and my virginal reputation were all worth it.

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For all those interested, do check out this fabulous Levis commercial, shot by Michel Gondry. Kinda reminds me of my situation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uj6G1C6c0uw

Money Money, how you thrill me, ah-hah, Money Money, nearly kill me, ah-hah, Money Money

We wish for countless things every minute of every day. But there's one thing I've been wishing for, for a while. I wish...I wish Money was a whore, who would willingly go to anyone who needed 'some'. And boy do I need 'some'?!

Now, since darling money is a conceited bitch who only benefits a few hard working people and totally ignores us useless, limp dick whiners; we are left with no other choice but to get out there and put in the hours. Blech!

So one fine wednesday, I put on my best skirt, a striped top, 2 braids (apparently a very unprofessional way to do your hair) and my red Che bag, and went for an interview at a magazine publication. This publication is located in the South end of our beautiful fish smelling city. And those who know me, will figure out what the next few lines are going to be about. Traveling from Goregaon to South Bombay is NOT bloody funny. And the trains are for people who get turned on by molestation...or well, those who like to impersonate sardines in a can. Though one good thing about the ladies compartment on the train is that, you can totally remove all your pent up frustration on the lady next to you who just elbowed you in the ribs by mistake. But otherwise, even if I was penniless, I'd rather marry Borat (ughhghgh) than take the train everyday of my life. (Please Note: I have already, unconsciously, decided that I'm not going to take up the job) But, I did it, for the sake of the interview.

After the hellos and nice to meet yous, I'm given a test. I had to research images for an article on Thailand. I take about an hour to complete the test, simply because I'm already planning a trip to Thailand; my penniless state completely forgotten. After finishing the test I find out that the editor and art director, whom I'm supposed to meet, are busy in a meeting. So after informing the current photo researcher, I make my way down to have a little smoke break. Of course I ask my Cute Ass in Tight Pants friend; who also happens to work in the same building for another magazine, to give me some company. After a nice ten minutes, Cute Ass in Tight Pants and I return to the offices and we decide to get some coffee from the machine. Suddenly I see the scary Art Director glaring at me. Of course, I was chastised for going off for a smoke when the Editor was waiting for me. Well come on now, you were in a BLOODY MEETING!!! But I guess, anyone else really serious about a job would probably sit their ass down quietly and stay there till they got the damn job. No?! (Please Note once again: Not here for a job, just here to prove that I'm making an 'effort' to find a job)

The Editor finally met me. Almost laughed at me when I said I was looking to work here at least 6 months. That poor lady was under the impression that I would work there for 3 years (hahaha) or a year AT LEAST! But kudos to her, because she caught on pretty fast, when she pointed out at my C.V and said " Yeah I can see you're a short stint person. Three day workshop... HA HA HA". I was fuming. I wanted to say... "Yo Beeyatch, I CONDUCTED a 3 day workshop...NOT ATTENDED!" (snap a finger) Well in the end she said that I'm supposed to make up my mind and then get back to them. I guess my mind was made up when she said 3 years. If the scary Art Director wasn't blocking my way I would've fled from there right then and there.

After the disaster, Cute Ass in Tight Pants and I went for coffee to the Kala Ghoda cafe. He enlightened me- on how to dress for interviews, how to speak in interviews, how to praise your own arse wart confidently during interviews and most importantly how to make a C.V. Enlightening though it was, I'm afraid I didn't imbibe much of that because my attentions were wholly focussed on the delicious ham sandwich I was devouring at that moment. Though one thing I gathered, was that I definitely failed in all the above categories.

On my way home; once again on the train, I thought about my Euro trip in June plan that was slipping away further and further. I was beginning to get depressed. A list of eligible bachelors popped up in my head...HOLY CRAP Am I actually thinking of a marriage of convenience (an arranged marriage, in other words). But since my Saucy Minxie conscience runs this freak show, I snapped out of that terrifying line of thought pretty soon. The ipod starts to play 'Ocean breathes Salty' and my worries are carried away by that faithful fish smelling Bombay breeze.

As I lay in bed that night; just before I fell into my little dream world, I saw a life sized 1000 rupee bill wearing a tutu, wagging her finger at me and singing:

Well I guess you're a lazy fool

I could never be the right kind of girl for you

I could never be your woman.

I could never be your woman

I could never be your woman.

"Well, damn! Pricey Bitch!", I mumble sleepily....

Fashion, Sushi and A high state of mind

Woke up Friday morning. Have to go for the Lakme Fashion Week. What on earth do I wear? My cupboard resembles a war zone. I finally decide that Indian would do best. Who is going to bother competing with all that Gucci, Prada and Yves Saint Laurent! I spray my Nina Ricci and I'm out of the house. As usual running late. Half way to the Hyatt the damn rickshaw breaks down. My luck amuses me. I run; can feel my bottom jiggle, jump into another rickshaw and am on my way again. I'm already feeling like Ugly Betty. Surprisingly I reach only 5 minutes late. Rush into Chanthara's arm and the both of us, arms linked, walk to the 3rd show of the 1st day of the Lakme Fashion Week. We walk through hordes of women carrying Louis Vuitton, donning Versace and Gucci eyewear. A Jimmy Choo goes tik-tok-ing away. I do a double take. I feel like I'm in a zoo. So many things to look at. Oh and let's admit, I was quite intimidated too.

The show finally begins. I'm watching the models walk the ramp and suddenly I have another image in my head; that of people walking at Churchgate Station. I kid you not, it's the same look. The "I'm so bloody bored...Work sucks the life out of me...I didn't get any last night...another day of sucking up...what time is the next train?!" look. My hands are itching, wishing I had my camera with me. I think I'd really like to be up on that media podium someday. Show is over in 15 minutes. We walk out hoping we can get some booze off our passes. We don't find the damn effing lounge; so crankily we decide to take a walk around the hotel and then we come by a magnificent sight. KABIR fuckin BEDI is standing right by the elevators with a group of people including his daughter Pooja. Oh and is he a sight! I stopped right there and gawked at him like a 4 year old child who has just seen her first lollipop (no pun intended)!! I'd marry him in a second. That's all it would take. Sigh! Waited till he left the hotel and then followed him out. Gawking continues until a freaky huge white Yeti bumps into me and I almost let out a bloodcurdling scream, but instead I jumped back and my foot smashed into a nice pair of heels. Oh lord please forgive me...I might've just maimed a Manolo or a Choo. I apologised profusely and skedaddled away from there. Phew!

The evening was spent on Aarya's roof. Nic and Aarya watched the satellites while I flew. Armadillos were the topic of discussion. I felt like I was sitting in space, and there was this voice (the Nic drone) spouting off Did You Knows. It was amusing, interesting and well, I felt a little smarter in the end. Though I highly doubt I remember any of it now.

Saturday night dinner at Global Fusion. My first experience with Sushi and it was fabulous. I absolutely loved it. That divineness was followed by another flying session, on Nic's roof this time. Conversation flowed, the moon rose, we laughed, we inhaled, mosquitoes attacked, the moon rose some more, discussion turned to sex and I apparently pointed out how even picking my nose could be a sexual gesture to someone out there! Huh?!

Sunday afternoon, I find myself standing on a road in Dahisar. Everytime a car, truck, bus, bike pass by, I'm covered with an inch of dust. The bus that will deliver me to my doorstep refuses to show up, so I finally take a rickshaw home. Feels like I'm in another city. I thought Goregaon was far...try Dahisar! ( VVS...It's a trip you must take)

At six pm, I'm on a train, heading to Bandra; late again. The man to my left keeps squishing closer. My hands are literally all over my chest, protecting my bosoms from being pinched. Thankfully the seat opposite me is vacated and I plop my ass on it. I glance up at the 'squisher' and he actually looks disappointed. Haha! Take that dipshit! Madness descends as Bandra station comes into view. I'm getting off the train, but my hand is stuck between people. As I try to grab my hand away, I feel my beautiful Goa ring slip off my finger. My heart stops. I can feel tears pricking my eyes, feeling the loss of the ring that has seen me through so much. I wait for everyone to get off. Praying that it's not fallen on the tracks, I look into the train, and there it is...lying next to the pole. In seconds my hand reaches out and grabs 'my preciousssss' and I am happy again. Close call.

The rest of the evening was spent in dance practice for Chanthara's sangeet, a nice little gossip session with Ism and Sukhi, making next Sunday plans with Simzaa, and an auto ride with Nic and the Waarya. All in all, it was a weekend well spent. A break from lazying at home, reading fanfiction, pigging out and indulging in naughty fantasies.

Monday morning shall be spent, blurry eyed, watching the Oscars. A tradition that cannot be broken...which would've certainly been broken had Sukhi and Ism not reminded me. Sacrebleu!