Premiere

Got back from the premiere a while ago. Was somewhat low-key compared to the festival screening at the IHC. Good press though.

B is mad because I’ve opted not to go to the Mumbai premiere. He says that I should network more, build contacts. Use boss woman for all it’s worth. Oh well.

Am getting more and more fed up with hanging around at this joint. I’m not even so sure if it will help. The docu looks like it’s not happening, which means that the next shoot will be in September – don’t know if it’s worth hanging on till then. Why am I so fucking indecisive?? And non-assertive.

Everyday Matters / South India in Blogville

Spent the entire second half of the day trying to put together an optioning contract with boss woman’s husband. This is for the mad, paranoid writer whose novella we want to make into a film.

The Film is finally being released here very, very soon - premieres in Delhi and Mumbai. Will be fun seeing it listed in the papers! And reading local reviews after reading so many foreign ones.

Finally managed to send the revised music contract draft back to the music company – had to wait for the go-ahead from two of the co-producers and the music composer. Seems like a waste now though since the film is premiering so soon, the music should have been released before to add to the publicity. Tried to get boss woman to see this earlier but she preferred to ‘wait and watch’. Oh well.
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Seems like it is definite that I will be attending the seminar in mid-Dec in Mumbai. Really looking forward to it. Will get to meet other film makers, funders and perhaps get to hang around with R if he isn’t too busy. Looking forward to quizzing him on the Bollywood industry.
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B has gone out to a jazz concert. Decided not to go since he plans to stay on and network and I’m rather tired. J was going to come over so that we could watch ‘Amores Perros’ but called back and told him not to. Don’t feel like it tonight.

B getting ready to go out was funny. He was not sure what to wear since the dress code was semi-formal.

I was half-lying on the bed eating dinner while he was figuring out what to wear.

That means I can’t wear jeans right?

No you can’t. Nor your denim jacket.

Shit. What then? Can I wear my red cords?

Nope.

Are you sure I can’t wear jeans?

Yup.

What if I wear jeans with proper shoes?

Nope.

Bah. You don’t know anything.

Calls his friend who is part of the event management team. Friend confirms that jeans are not considered formal and that he may not be let in if he is not dressed right.

Shit man! What the hell do I do?? Should I wear my shaadi ka suit?

This went on for a while, he trying on different permutations and combinations of his wardrobe, me going ‘Nah, not quite right’, he looking confused and going ‘Huh? Are you sure?’ – finally we settled on beige pants that he never knew he had, a Fab India kurti and one of my jackets.

I suppose I’ll have to shave too?

Yes, that would be a good idea.

Long, heartfelt sigh.
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South India in Blogville

It’s rather strange that most of the blogs I enjoy turn out to be owned by South Indians. Even X was South Indian. So are two of the three bloggers who currently email me.

I was thinking about this some days ago, how this was so. Is it just because I have a natural affinity to South Indians that I never knew of before? Or is it because there are more South Indians blogging, since they are the traditional IT guys, therefore the probability of a blog you like turning out to be owned by a South Indian is greater?

I don’t know the answer to that one yet.

But I’ve learned some interesting things on these blogs that someone who was born and brought up in North India would never know. Like the term ‘oldies’ which refers to westernized South Indians who are, however, very conservative in their outlook and believe in the caste system etc.

And more recently, something quite incredulous – that South Indians bow down to North Indians. I really find it hard to believe that that’s true. I mean, they are obviously the superior race – more intelligent, gentler, more honest, less ostentatious. What would make them feel that North Indians are superior to them?? Someone help me out with this one please.

And thanks to ro for all the gyan, will keep coming back for more :) The title of this post is linked to the post on her blog which I have referred to.
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I think I’m turning sentimental and losing the logical me whom I love.

Bad Dreams

Have been having strange dreams lately.

On Monday night I dreamt that S and I were in a restaurant. I tried to touch the back of his neck but he admonished me with a sharp ‘uh-uh’. Like you would to a dog or a kid. Like he did to me. Then there was a long shot of a man and a woman lying on a sofa fondling each other. The woman had her top off.

And last night I dreamt that one of my nicer cousins had died.

Thanks subconscious for all the pleasantness!

My Niece, Me, and Two Baby Cows 

Good Times!

Had a great time yesterday evening. Went to a pub where a bunch of friends were jamming. It was great fun cos they weren’t being serious, were just playing around, having a good time, playing their favourite songs. The vocalist going ‘Ayyyyyyy….G’, letting the guitarist know which chords to play! Drummers rotating as friends demanded that they wanted to jam too – good fun!

Got a little pissed off with H, the 57 yr old Swedish guy though. True, he plays really good blues guitar, but I felt he was sort of taking advantage of the band (even though they weren’t really a ‘band’) and had no respect for them. I felt he was playing the white card, as in, ‘I’m white so I can have what I want her for the asking’. Also he made a terrible mess of ‘Like a Rolling Stone’.

Had a nice conversation with U, C’s wife. She’s always so dressed up and made up and looks so good that you get the feeling that she’s a bit of a touch-me-not. So I never really bothered to talk to her beyond the casual ‘Hi’. She came up to me and we got talking and she’s actually quite nice – was looking quite different too – prettier without all the make up. She’s going to Lahore next month so gave her the low-down on what to expect in Pakistan!

Conversation in the car on the way to the pub, F bouncing around at the back, irritated with D’s girlfriend:

She’s so irritating, man. If I had a cricket bat I’d smash her face in.

Me: Sounds like you’re jealous of your friend’s girlfriend.

No, man, I’m not jealous. It’s just that she is not the right girl for him. You know, he can have any girl he wants, but he just too lazy! He’s good looking, he’s nice, he’s honest, he’s so sweet…and his parents are the nicest ever, any girl would love to have in-laws like them. But he’s just too lazy to make the effort, it’s like ‘chalo mil gayee to bas theek hai’.

And she apparently cheated on him when she was in Canada so if the base is so shaky then what’s the point?

And she’s so icky, she’s always all over him. If you’re trying to talk to him she’ll go ‘D…D…’ (Put his hands on B’s cheeks and pulls his face around). I can’t stand it.

And why does she have to do things like buy his Dad muffins and tell his Mom (affects nasal voice) ‘Aunty shall we go shopping tomorrow then?’ She’s using them to get to him and that’s disgusting.

And the thing is she’s nice looking and intelligent why does she have to do all this? Why like this?

B: She’s not good looking at all.

Cmon she is, look she’s slim and all waxed and eyebrows plucked and stuff. She’s not that bad. But yaaaaaaaaargh!


This conversation was extremely funny in reality, but somehow all typed up it’s lost it’s flavour!
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Boss woman has been extremely nice lately – lending me films and nominating me for a seminar on documentary film making in December…hmm.
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A funny thing – trying to raise money from rich businessmen (sorry for the sexism, but they are all men in this case) in Canada for our next film project. So boss woman got one of them to host a dinner for her and she talked about her work and the next project, explained the budget, showed them her latest film and posters/brochures etc., handed out synopses and story outlines of the next film.

They were apparently totally non-plussed and didn’t know how to react. They had no questions about the next film or even comments on whether they thought it was good or bad. Then one of them saw on the poster for the last film the row of funders’ logos at the bottom and said ‘How much would it cost for one of those?’ Aha! So this is how business men think!

(These are of course funders who funded the film to promote culture, quality film making, different POVs and other such lofty stuff!)

We have now drawn up a ‘Tariff Card’ saying it will cost this much for your company’s name on the poster, this much on the brochures, logo extra etc.!

Hope it works though cos I really don’t see what benefit their companies would get out of it.
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Have a lot of work to do but couldn’t resist writing. Need to get back to it now – waaah!

Final Solution

First of all, to those bloggers who have made me feel somewhat understood, and perhaps a little less cynical – a sincere thank you from the depths of my heart.
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Final Solution

Went to see Final Solution on Friday evening with boss woman’s husband.

I was very disappointed. To begin with, it’s 148 mins long, that’s 2 hrs and 28 mins. Much too long for a documentary, was my original thought, should be able to say what you need to in an hour, but let’s see it before we judge.

And this is what I saw – a series of eye witness accounts cut with Narendra Modi giving speeches during the Gaurav Yatra, many plates with large amounts of text containing investigative findings, timelines and meanings of words like ‘Gaurav’ and ‘Yatra’.

I think sitting through this film would desensitize even those with anti-fundamentalist sympathies. And sure enough, people started walking out in the middle – I stuck it out for an hour and a half, more out of support for a documentary film maker trying to make a difference than anything else.

What is the point of showing so much footage of the same thing. Okay you show different scenarios – arson, molestation, the Sabarmati Express, but at some point you have to move ahead and talk of solutions and perhaps some historical or political insight.

I think a film like this would have been much more effective had it focused on two or three families with victims instead of a hundred. And you can’t expect an audience to handle large amounts of text containing complex timelines and findings. Why didn’t he use a narrator? Or have characters talking about the incidents/findings?
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Built a lego house with my sweet niece today.

She is so grown up now, when B came around and started pulling her cheeks, she said ‘Excuse me. That is my mouth and it hurts.’!!

Domestic Mayhem / Collective Soul

Crazy morning. No water for the *third* day running. B got into a fit and insisted that he was going to have a bath. We *didn’t realize* that the water was just about to run out. But for some reason the hot water was running cold – must be the geyser, we thought. So he took the cold water and heated it on the stove. And then of course the cold water ran out and he had half a bucket of too hot water to bathe in. I was sent with a pan, dashing around to all the taps to collect trickles…

On top of this the cat was meowling cos the cat food had finished and we have been to disorganized to realize it, though even if we did I don’t know how we would have bought it, I have exactly Rs. 43 in the bank and B’s money situation is in the negative, he still owes people money. Anyhow, luckily there was some frozen keema in the fridge but since I faint at the sight of raw meat he had to fix it for the cat in the midst of the water drama…

Coming to work, the autowallah had the radio on a program of old Hindi cabaret songs – Leila oh Leila, and the one that goes ‘Bang bang’ – good fun!

And for some reason I remembered this comic strip in one of those Zen stories in comic form books. This guy is hanging on to a cliff face – at the bottom of the cliff is rushing water, and at the top is a lion trying to get at him. He suddenly spies a strawberry growing near where he’s hanging on, plucks it, pops it into his mouth and goes ‘yumm!’

Put me in a very upbeat mood!

Yesterday evening was watching ‘Godfather III’ with B. He had stayed home the *whole day* and had watched parts I and II and had now reached III. When suddenly I got this lovely fragrant smell – of flowers. He said he couldn’t smell it. The smell brought with it a warm feeling – like someone was thinking of me. Can’t explain it. It was nice and today I am wearing a perfume that I normally can’t stand cos it is very sweet and smells of roses, but it reminds me of that mysterious fragrance.

There have been two instances before, that I can recall when something similar has happened. One was a few weeks ago when I was in the middle of all the confusion, I was just drifting off to sleep and was going to send up a prayer (yes I do that sometimes), something in the tune of ‘Help me to be on the right path’, but then when I started, the prayer went ‘Please take care of X and watch over him’. It took me completely by surprise cos I hadn’t been thinking of X *at all*. Dunno how that happened – maybe deep down I knew that he was more in need of help than me. Or maybe it has something to do with Gaia. The collective soul. Maybe when you’re close to people there’s some sort of spiritual network formed such that one soul speaks for another. I wonder if he felt it.

The second was many, many years ago. Again I was just drifting to sleep, I was lying on my stomach when I felt this warmth totally embrace me. But it wasn’t intangible it was very real, very physical. I immediately became wide awake and couldn’t understand it. Again, I think someone was watching over me.

About the roses fragrance – could it be my grandmother? I can’t think of anyone else who would choose to smell of roses!

This may seem silly and if anyone reads this they’re probably going to think I’m off my rocker but it’s all true.

Wednesday

Had a good day at work today. The draft contract from the Music Company came in. Went through all the fine print and found lots of issues and loopholes. Also sent it to a distributor contact in Mumbai to find out if it conformed to industry standards. Glad I did so cos he wrote back with valuable points.

Had an interesting conversation with boss woman’s husband over lunch. Started with the film making process and moved on to the egotistical nature of humankind and then to separatist movements the world over!
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Spent a nice evening with my sweet niece. She was complaining about the soup Mom had made so got her some rotis with butter and marmite, and some apple pudding thing with custard.

It’s so great now that she is a little older and has a better attention span, one can hold intelligent conversations with her. She made me explain the ‘Peanuts’ comic strip to her in today’s paper cos she knows it’s my favourite. She always makes me do it, though she never can understand it!

I should be spending a lot more time with her while she’s growing up.
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Also had a nice chat with C. He sent me a link to some recent photos of his. I couldn’t believe that the shy bespectacled skinny guy who sung ‘Help’ on his acoustic guitar is now this hotshot corporate guy with a silver Chrysler!

For some reason, he is fond of me, though I hardly knew him when he was in Delhi. Only met him a few times and went for that crazy trip to the North East, but that was in a huge gang. He even wrote a song inspired by something I said and sent it to me a couple of years ago. To be honest, I don’t even remember saying the thing I apparently said to him, and now I don’t even remember the song or what it was I was supposed to have said.

I have an affectionate spot for him though. Like one would for a younger brother. I’m actually proud that he is doing so well! Funny how one connects to people.
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I’m getting a little unnerved by the attention this blog is getting – the comments and emails. I know they are not a lot, judging by other blogs, but I’m afraid of playing to the gallery.

I don’t want to hide my vices or the black side of my soul. There would be no point in this blog if I did.

Tuesday

S was online yesterday and we had a little chat.

Funny how even miles away, just thinking of him sitting at the other end on a computer can make my fingers turn cold and my brain stop thinking.

There are only two ppl who I have really and truly wanted – S and G. Thinking of it, I notice similarities between them:

1. Good looking in an imperfect way.
2. Piercing, intense eyes.
3. Nervous energy.
4. Not much liked by other people or thought of as being strange/obnoxious.
5. Could not have a great conversation or be good friends with either – on totally different wavelengths from mine.

These are the only two men who I wanted so badly that I totally overcame my shyness and made an initiative.

Funny also how the experience was terrible in both cases!

I am not wired for casual sex. Unfortunately.
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S has quit his job in Dubai because the ‘boss was incompetent and the work atmosphere was terrible’. Sigh. Maybe boss woman was right and he should be on medication.

He is now planning to apply for a ‘Contemplative Psychology’ course in an American university. Apparently a course based on Vipassana – looking inside and healing yourself etc. So he’s basically mooching off his Mom again, whilst applying for funding and aid etc.

I sincerely hope I do not meet him ever again. I hope he never comes to Delhi and that he is out of the country when I visit Pakistan. I hope he never works with us. _______________________________________________

Came across a great book today! It’s called ‘My Brilliant Career’ by an Australian, Miles Franklin, first published in 1901.

It’s an autobiography of a young girl, written when she was 21, about her girlhood. It has a great energy and passion. I completely love it – it’s like a blog speaking out to me from the late 19th century! There are so many things I can relate to so completely – the turmoil arising from the question of the existence of God, being misunderstood, the longing to be loved.

I usually have a few passages in a book I’m reading that I simply adore and I would write them down in a notebook or more recently, on this blog. But I cannot choose one passage in this book – it’s great – right from the prologue on!

Shelving the Head

Glancing at a few blogs, I see that almost everyone seems to have resorted to either escaping totally from the Diwali hungama or if not, wangled to pull out of certain festival duties. What is it about festivals that brings people down rather than uplifting spirits like they are supposed to? I’m glad to see that others undergo this syndrome as well – all you ever see in the papers, every festival, is models and actors saying how much they looove Diwali/Holi/Eid/Valentine’s Day/Christmas and all the fun things they are going to do.
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Naach

Saw Naach on Saturday! Another product of the RGV factory! Other than the actual naach, I loved it! Antara Mali has a great body, I love watching fit people, but she can’t dance for toffee – she’s so stiff. Considering the soul of the film is supposed to be dance, they should have cast an excellent dancer. In fact, the only part that dragged in the film were the naach sequences. RGV seems to be a bit obsessed with the female form. Which is fine, but at moments in the film I felt that he just wanted to put a hot woman in various leotards and skimpy costumes and so came up with a concept to fit that. And it didn’t work. The geeky guy next to me was busy messaging on his cell whenever the supposedly ‘hot’ numbers came on. And her vision of dance? Badly done yogic/ballet postures and ‘the look’. ‘The look’ being a sudden turn of the head and a glare, the eyes wide and the mouth straight as a line. Very putting off.

Started the last paragraph saying I loved it and then proceeded to trash it! Just angry cos it could have been so much better if he hadn’t tried so hard to make it sexy.

Okay, so what I did like – the crafting of the relationship between Mali and Bachchan – beautifully done. Very rare in Hindi films where the hero and heroine fall in superficial love during the duration of a song. Other Hindi films which did this well – Gaddar, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, maybe even Lamhe. The argument in the car – well scripted, well shot, well acted, well directed – one of the best scenes in the film.

The second thing – the balance between fantasy and reality. The glamour of cinema that enthralls and the grittiness that grounds. The opening song sequence – Mali dreaming in the rain vs. the reality of the Bombay streets and sea.

The third – the wonderful juxtaposition between the reality depicted in the film or the ‘choreographic vision’ that Mali sees with typical Bollywood songs/dialogue. Done so well, the difference comes out so stark.

The fourth – the effort towards realism. Have spoken about the balance between fantasy and reality above. Because I enjoy the fantasy that cinema affords and the ‘visual treat’ that it can give us. But I love most RGV films for the effort towards reality – unlike most Bollywood films – the décor in Mali’s small flat, the everyday clothes, Bachchan sleeping over at her place as a matter of fact – reflecting society as it is.

The fifth – the rejected lover, Hrishikesh Deshmukh (?), just cos he was so cute :)
After a long time, I saw a film (other than those at festivals), where the audience clapped at the end!

Grrrr….why couldn’t he have had some great dance in it?????????????
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The Birth of a Nation

Finally got to see this classic epic!

Blatantly racist, depicting the Ku Klux Klan as the saviours of the South after the Civil War. But what storytelling! All the ingredients of a spell-binding drama – love, tragedy, action – grounded in history. And of course all the technical firsts for that time – night shots, amazing crowd and war sequences.

Seems silly to write about it when so much has been said.
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Though it may not seem like it from this post, today was one of the bad days. B attempted to ‘talk’ to me which only made it worse.

Took a long walk in IIT and then went to a café within the campus and read the screenplay of The Hours in one sitting. Drank coffee and ate greasy chowmien which I like to have occasionally since it reminds me of college.

Browsed in a bookshop for a while.

Am now attempting to put the head/heart on the shelf as per the suggestion of two friendly voices in the void :)

The Funk Continues

There’s always something happening. There’s always something to write about.

I could write about Diwali tonight, the weirdry with J, the worsening work dilemma – but sometimes nothing feels worth the while. Everything seems uninteresting and too banal to bother with. Of course it’s the very opposite that’s true – when things get intense I don’t want to think about them. I just want them to go away. And the covers call…

I think I was born with a melancholy gene.

Here’s something far removed from the intensity of life, making it possible to handle:

Like everything else, there are some things about blogging that you cannot fathom till you try your hand at it.

A friend would often write in his blog, ‘I do not write to be read’. And I, a non-blogger then, would say to him that of course he wants to be read – that’s why he chooses a public forum and not a diary locked away in his drawer.

I understand now, that sentence so clearly. I do not write to be read – I do not write with an audience in mind, I am not trying to be funny, amusing, entertaining, philosophical or even interesting. It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be read, that I’m not hoping to meet people who can relate to and connect with me in some small way.

I wish I could unscrew my head and put it on the shelf.

Something tells me I may not be blogging for a while.

Monique

There’s a picture today, about 6 by 3 inches, on the front page of the ‘Hindustan Times’. It features two white women, somewhat scantily clad, and the caption reads ‘Tourists at Janpath on Tuesday’. There’s a smaller picture below it, about 3 by 2, showing the women and two police officers. The caption says ‘ARE YOU DRESSED RIGHT FOR DELHI? Police officers tell them to leave as they are attracting too much attention for the way they are dressed’.

Reminded me of Monique.

Monique was a seventeen year old Black American backpacker from Los Angeles who spent a week with me in July. She was a lovely combination of pretty and sexy. Had a sweet innocence about her, and yet a great body, bone structure and lovely glowing skin.

And of course since it was hot and sweaty, she dressed in her usual tank tops and thin thin skirts. And she would travel by buses cos it was cheap and she found it exciting.

I was really worried and felt responsible for her. So I tried to explain to her that most Indian men saw western women as easy and that she should be careful. It was hard for me cos it made me feel like an old amma and I, as a rule, am against forcing women to dress conservatively. But what could I do? She was so young and pretty.

She said she could take care of herself and knew ‘how to judge people’. Seventeen, never traveled out of California – yeah, right.

Anyhow, my husband was out of town so I gave her his mobile so that she could call me, just in case.

Especially distressing were these white cotton pants she loved. When she stood up they were like normal pants, but when she sat the sides would fall open, they had long slits, right up to the panty line.

Thankfully nothing too bad happened – except that an autowallah tried to touch her.

I’m not sure what the paper is trying to say with those pictures – whether they approve of the police action or are against moral policing. Seems a little strange that it should be on the front page though. Or maybe not.

Another Day in the Life

Got into a strange funk today.

Was supposed to go in the morning to meet the Vendor Manager guy but then S phoned to say he was busy in a meeting and that I should go around 3.30. Told him I’d call at 3 to confirm that I was coming in case I got stuck.

Reached work and then got thinking – what if boss woman really freaks out, what if I tell her I only want to work part-time at half the salary and then get obligated to take on the ex-office work, what if the ex-office work gets too much and then I can’t quit because I’m only on half salary. B said do the first project simultaneously, going to work regular hours without telling boss woman but that would be working nights and a huge strain.

This then progressed on to the usual what am I doing with my life? And the existential – Why am I here? What is the point of it all?

Played Solitaire and Text Twist for an hour.

Then N called, I told her I’d drop by her workstation when I came and since I hadn’t she wanted to know what was up. Told her about the dilemma. She suggested I do voluntary unpaid social work to fill the time.

Then just decided to go for it.

Called S. He wasn’t in the office, told me to call the Vendor Manager dude directly. Spoke with him on the phone and he turned out to be a real nice guy. Explained the contract to me. It’s basically just an umbrella sort of thing and the real contracts with the terms of delivery and payment are the SOWs which I would have to sign for each project that I do with them. He said that it didn’t matter if I signed this contract and then decided to do no work with the ex-office at all if it clashed with my present work.

Decided to go over and meet him and look over the contract. It seemed harmless so signed it. Then called S to ask if he was back in the office and could I meet him to discuss the project he wanted to offer me. He suggested I come tomorrow at 11 am for a team meeting so that I’d be in the loop and that we could discuss terms later. Plus he said that I wouldn’t be the only person on it now, there would be one other person and that the deadline has shifted to 22 Nov. Which actually works out better for me cos boss woman isn’t back till the 22nd. So maybe I can give this project a shot and see how it works out without letting her know as yet. Was planning to take Thursday and Friday off anyhow on account of Diwali.

Will just take it as it comes without getting paranoid with the what-ifs. Things have a way of working out, right?

R, very very big boss and a nice person came by as I was talking to the Vendor Management guy and did the cheek pulling thing! She is probably the reason I got that job without having any techie background. Had my interview with her and I remember discussing ‘Taxi Driver’ and how she told me that my personality test showed that I am an introvert but that that is not a bad thing.

Also saw M, super big shot on the Board of Directors who I had had my second interview with. Don’t like him at all. I had my Mom’s address down in the application form for ‘Permanent Address’ and he said that since I was married I should have put down my in-laws address instead - ?? ?? ?? Weird man.

Zoo!

Called N for S's number. She was at home cos it was her son's birthday - he's two today and said they were just going to the zoo.

S said to come over tomorrow to sign a contract.

No work, so of course called back N and said I'm coming to the zoo too!

Lovely warm winter day!!

Work / Driving / Orwell / Blind School

Work

So I got back a mail from the big boss R from the ex-office asking whether I would be willing to travel and do I have a valid passport. Hmmm interesting – I know most of their business is in Singapore, Malaysia and the US, and I’d love to travel to any of those places. Wrote back saying that I do have a valid passport and am willing to travel provided I am told the dates in advance and my present boss doesn’t have a problem.

I know most people would just moonlight without letting their offices know, but this is not something I’m comfortable with, I have to be upfront about this. I’m even thinking of telling them to pay me less. Have a feeling boss woman is going to freak out, but she didn’t keep her end of the deal so can’t be helped.

Meanwhile, got a call from ex-PM saying that he got to know that I was looking for freelance work and that he has a project which has to be delivered by 30 Nov. He asked me to sign up on their Vendor site, which I did yesterday, am to call him tomorrow and go meet him, discuss remuneration etc.

The only thing is, I know this PM from experience and he is a fat idiot. He always promises the client a delivery date without properly assessing the amount of work. Which means that the ppl actually doing the work get totally jacked – working night and day to finish in time. And if I’m to go to work as well as do this project...just hope it doesn’t turn out to be too much and jeopardize ties with boss woman.

Let’s hope for the best.

Am also feeling a little lazy, and feeling tempted to maintain the status quo – bum around at work and take home a full pay packet for doing next to nothing.

But no, gotta get bizzy!
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Driving

Banged the car into a wall trying to park, fender got a little bent, but other than that have been driving quite well. Can’t reverse too well or park though. I need someone to give me a two-hour intensive on reversing and parking.

Am thinking that once I’m an ace driver I will open a special driving school for women where women will teach women. The learning experience will be fun, confidence-boosting and self-affirming. No men shouting and screaming and telling you how dumb you are.
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George Orwell

Time for another favourite passage, this time from 'Down and Out in Paris and London' by George Orwell:

In the kitchen the dirt was worse. It is not a figure of speech, it is a mere statement of fact to say that a French cook will spit in the soup – that is, if he is not going to drink it himself. He is an artist, but his art is not cleanliness. To a certain extent he is even dirty because he is an artist, for food, to look smart, needs dirty treatment. When a steak, for instance, is brought up for the head cook’s inspection, he does not handle it with a fork. He picks it up in his fingers and slaps it down, runs his thumb round the dish and licks it to taste the gravy, runs it round and licks it again, then steps back and contemplates the piece of meat like an artist judging a picture, then presses it lovingly into place with his fat, pink fingers, every one of which he has licked a hundred times that morning. When he is satisfied, he takes a cloth and wipes his fingerprints from the dish, and hands it to the waiter. And the waiter, of course dips his fingers into the gravy – his nasty, greasy fingers which he is forever running through his brilliantined hair. Whenever one pays more than, say, ten francs for a dish of meat in Paris, one may be certain that it has been fingered in this manner. In very cheap restaurants it is different; there, the same trouble is not taken over the food, and it is just forked out of the pan and flung onto a plate, without handling. Roughly speaking, the more one pays for food, the more sweat and spittle one is obliged to eat it with.

Yum yum!!

And yet another:

The plongeurs, again, have a different outlook. Theirs is a job which offers no prospects, is intensely exhausting, and at the same time has not a trace of skill or interest; the sort of job that always would be done by women if women were strong enough.

:)

This one, not so much because it describes the terrible plight of rickshaw pullers but because I had to reread the sentence to make sure I did see a crude Hindi swear word!

For miles on end they trot in the sun or rain, head down, dragging at the shafts, with the sweat dripping from their grey moustaches. When they go too slowly the passenger calls them bahinchut.

He was born in India, you know!
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Blind School

Went last evening to the Blind School Diwali Fete.

It was strange. Aimed at the upper class richies. Full of Feng Shui crystals, organic snacks, aromatherapy products, bonsai plants, brownies and belgian chox, designer clothes - where's the good ol' Diwali Mela with loud music, giant wheels, makkai ki roti and sarson da saag, and snotty kids with candy floss all over their faces??

Bought some really nice glasses though, from a white woman (a disguised missionary at a pagan festival??). Translucent glass - in caramel, turquoise, and deep blue. Beautiful!

Family

Okay, I have to write about this, even if it does choke me up.

Mom called me the other day, on Wednesday, to be exact in the afternoon while I was at work. She has been doing this thing lately, whenever I go over she tells me how my horoscope says that I’m going through a bad time but that it will soon tide over. She seems to think I’m unhappy right now. Well, I always am unhappy about something or the other, but much less now than then. Anyhow, she called, really excited just to tell me that the stars for me today were really good – something about Saturn and the moon being in congruence, she read the whole thing out, in this lovely, happy voice!

Now, I don’t care about horoscopes – I do read them, but if you were to ask me what it said just after I read it, I wouldn’t have a clue. I read it in a totally non-thinking fashion, just enjoy looking for the lil picture denoting my zodiac sign amongst all the others.

But I was really touched by her phone call, I had to control the tremor in my voice when I answered her.

Yes, there were things she did wrong, and it’s hard for me to forget since the results were so obvious. But I’ll just have to give up the bitterness.

I only have one mommy after all.
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Another thing happened on Wednesday that was wonderful and unexpected and for which I am grateful.

Before we were married, my husband and I agreed that we would not live with his parents. Besides the feminist side of me which thinks that women should not have to live with their in-laws on principle, I know that with our differing backgrounds and my extreme need for privacy, it would just never work. However, every four to six months would crop up this conversation in the in-law family about how it would be so much more economical / sensible if we were to stay together. There would be this huge pressure camp against me – his father, his mother, his sister, and I am sad to say, him as well, despite all the promises.

It came up again a few weeks ago and unable to deal with the pressure and more importantly, not too sure which way this relationship was headed anyway, I just listened and nodded and did not express an opinion.

But on Wednesday, he said he had something to say to me. He had a well thought out, sensible plan to buy his parents a place and later, when they were much older and unable to take care of themselves, a bigger place where we would stay with them but have our own space as well. His investment plans made sense for a change.

I really couldn’t believe it – the understanding and the maturity! Is he finally growing up??

My Beautiful Cat

Things I do to bug my cat:

· Stick cellotape on his forehead.
· Terrify him by singing in an eerie opera-like falsetto.
· Force cuddle/kiss him.
· Wear a ten-faced Ravana mask and scare the wits out of him.
· Curl up to him when he’s sleeping.
· Partner with B to act like a four-armed two-faced monster.

Things my cat does to bug me:

· Gets in my cupboard and kicks my clothes out.
· Drinks out of the toilet bowl.
· Tries to drink from the tap when I’m brushing my teeth.
· Never drinks the fresh water in clean bowls put out for him.
· Hides in unreachable places when I try to bring him in for the night.
· Scratches my leather handbag.
· Sticks to me and follows me around when I’m getting ready in the morning, making me late every single day.
· Goes into sudden yowling fits for no apparent reason.
· Pees on fresh laundry even though there is virgin sand in his litter box.
· Tries to catch the mouse when I’m on the computer.
· Brings me gifts of dead pigeons and rats.

Things we do together:

· Cuddle in bed every morning.
· Share my cup of morning tea.
· Play with string, fake snakes and other assorted stuff.
· Share tandoori chicken and pizza.
· Sleep in late on weekends.
· Play hide-and-seek.
· Watch TV.
· Sing and purr.

Light Bulb

Had a brilliant idea today. I really don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I will figure out if I can get some freelance work from the ex-office. Then negotiate with boss woman to only work part-time when there is no project.

Will therefore make about the same amount of money, not be bored and get to use my bloody brain again!! Plus ties with boss woman intact so get to work on the films too! Script stays on the back burner – needs some roasting time anyhow.

Wrote to N at the ex-office and she mailed back sounding very positive!

Why in God’s name didn’t I think of this before??

Will try to set it up before boss woman returns on the 20th and then let her know.

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Have learnt something the past week. Got to remember it. The old – Don’t put all your eggs in the same basket.

Gypsy

You come from far away
With pictures in your eyes
Of coffee shops and morning streets
In the blue and silent sunrise
But night is the cathedral
Where we recognized the sign
We strangers know each other now
As part of the whole design

And now hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you
Feel the heat

You’re the jester of this courtyard
With a smile like a girl’s
Distracted by the women
With the dimples and the curls
By the pretty, and the mischievous
By the timid and the blessed
By the blowing skirts of ladies
Who promise to gather you to their breast

Hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you
Feel the heat

Your hands are running water
And that earring in your ear
The wisdom on your face denies
The number of your years
With the fingers of a potter
And the laughing tale of a fool
The arranger of disorder
With your strange and simple rules

And now I’ve found me another spinner
Of strange and gauzy threads
With a long and slender body
And a bump upon yer head

Hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you
Feel the heat

With a long and slender body
And the sweetest, softest hands
And you’ll go away forever now
Go on to different lands
And please do not ever look for me
For with me you will stay
And you will hear yourself in song
Blowing by one day

But now hold me like a baby
That will not fall asleep
Curl me up inside you
And let me hear you
Feel the heat

----- Gypsy, Suzanne Vega


Vega is a goddess. I love each, single line of this song. It is perfect.