November 09, 2010

Soft Pink Kisses...

Most women in arranged marriages don't love their husbands when they get married; and later, they don't have a choice.


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You know what is the first thing I am going to do when I go to Bombay? Make friends with this lady here and do what she does. SHOP. Swasta and Masta indeed! 

Oh, the joy of finding something good! And the greater joy of finding it cheap! Nothing can beat that! Not even a good foot massage!

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I just arranged the Shelf above my study table today and how come I never realised it? I love my books-cum-other-things shelf. It's awesome. I am awesome. 

I have all these awesome books neatly arranged by size and thickness and colour. And I have my copy of Bhagvad Geeta (I like having it there nestled amongst the likes of Cervantes and Oscar Wilde). And then I have my hand-painted gods** and then these little things(curios/souvenirs) gifted by friends. Like this candle which has a metal elephant or the little metal tower of Paris Apeksha brought from Paris. Or then the earthenware with Warli painting made by Garima. Or then those little colourful aboriginal tequila glasses by Praveen. Then there's the Orange blossom tea tin gifted by Praveen again. I love that tea. Like my favouritest ever. What can be better than Orange flavoured tea? My two favourite things together! Then the Capricorn cup with a little fairy on it by Munira. I do have awesome friends :) Then my sister's soft toys she left back. Then my bachpan ka mickeymouse walla pen stand. My paint brushes and pens and pencils in my favourite blue coffee mug. My favourite Dior jewellery box. And other little boxes. I love boxes. Like little treasure boxes. How exciting they are! Then Vitamins bottle, sea cod pills. Almonds and walnuts ka jar. Pink nail paint bottle. My diaries. My cds and my perfumes box gifted by Jiju. And a photoframe with my kiddie pic. 


I like the idea of shelf. You know, if want to really understand someone, go see how they live. I think a person's private space says so much about him or her. I think it's fascinating how much you can glean about the person from just his shelf. 


**I had made this Ganesh idol from clay in 7th grade. And I guess I must be watching too many Bollywod movies back then cause I remember telling myself that if that Ganesh idol ever breaks, I'll die. Ha! Well, now you know how to kill me. 

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I really do hate the fact that most of my guy friends can cook and cook well. Like really! They compete with me! :( You know, I can not sing. Or dance. Or be funny. I can't even be all intelligent or sexy. Like really. Can you leave one thing that I can do well? Please men? 

I remember as kids while sister could get away with being beautiful, I had nothing to show off in front of the guests (Yes, insecurity breeds since childhood. I am still looking for that yellow dress just in case). So while parents would place my sister in front of the guests and they, guests, would gush over how cute and pretty she was, my parents would say, "A, go get that plate of biscuits from the kitchen."

Or then bad still, "A stood 3rd in her class." And no one would bother. 

And you can not, just can not imagine my trauma, and what a trauma it is at 10 years of age, when the guests break your happy little I-am-worthy-of-some-praise bubble, when they beg your parents to take you away before you start entertaining them by telling them funny (atleast in my mind they were!) jokes. My jokes! No one wanted to hear my jokes :( And such nice jokes they were too!

And now these men! Who can make better mustard chicken than I can! *sniff sniff*

I think my sister's hex is finally working. As a teenager when I used to laugh at my sister's attempts at cooking, she used to give me that look that only older, arrogant sisters are capable of and say, "A, I hope you get married into a house where no one loves food! And so you can cook and cook and no one will appreciate you!" 


Yes. She did say that. Can't believe it right? Me neither :( What can I say? I do have an evil sister. And when I used to go crying about it to mom, she used to just ignore me :( Or if I was lucky, shoo me with a, "go cut an onion or something". 


Sigh. Maybe I am adopted after all. I should go cry now.

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