Thursday, November 20, 2008


The first thing i did this morning, the minute i opened my eyes was to give mommy a missed call. We had a 15 minute conversation which went like so.

Mom : Haan, whats up?
Me (groggy eyed and hippo-yawning) : Not much, just felt like hearing your voice.
Mom : Oh okie
Me : Mummaa, I'm feeling very tired. I don't feel like going to work today
Mom : Obviously, you'll feel tired. You're not eating properly. Just lunch everyday is going to make you loose your health and all your resistance. (and more food related advice)
Me : *coughing and sneezing*
Mom : Just come back home, enough of your Bombay experiment.

I managed to hang up after convincing her that I'll eat some more and that i was getting late for work.

As i was getting ready to leave, the conversation we had kept playing in my mind. And as i stepped out of home to catch the bus to the station, i saw little girls walking hand in hand with their mothers. The sight made a single tear drop trickle down my eye and it made me realize that i was really missing my mother.

I wanted to be 4 years old all over again and live a life of no responsibilities.

Friday, November 07, 2008


There is something very divine about a samosa. Words are too little to express how I feel when the taste of the aloo and the fried covering play around the insides of my mouth. I've had a fascination for this heavenly triangle for a very long time.

Most mornings i skip breakfast, partly because I don't get any at the PG I stay in and partly because I'm in a rush to get to work before the trains and the buses get too crowded. Traveling in Mumbai is something that you get used to only after a very loooooooong time.

I'm used to the grind now of pushing and pulling around with the fat aunties on the train to get that wee bit of space to breathe and jumping into the bus as fast as my legs allow me to.

This morning I left home earlier than usual and reached Dadar station at 9.20am, I had time to kill. So I took a slow walk down the crowded streets of Dadar, watching the shopkeepers dusting out their wares and opening shop for the day. Each morning I pass rows and rows of eat outs and I see food in abundance. The smells wafting out of each make my tummy cringe with hunger. And this morning I decided to answer the call of my tummy. I saw a huge basket of samosas being carried by 2 men, I walked right behind them, watching the samosas with lustful eyes.

They walked into a small street shop and placed the basket inside. The shop had a small counter selling samosas, dhoklas, pav bhaji and many more knick knacks. People were crowded around the shop like bees to a honey comb. I joined the crowd and asked for one samosa.

The man behind the counter, took out a samosa from the counter, wrapped it in a newspaper along with some spicy green chilly chutney and gave it to me. (his actions were at the speed of light, before I knew what was happening the whole bundle was in my hand) I smiled at him, payed him the amount I owed him and settled down on a steel bench with my samosa.

I could taste the freshness of the aloo stuffed inside the samosa, it was still piping hot from all the frying. The spicy chutney dipping added on to my mouth-orgasm. I was in a world of my own now - nothing seemed to matter except me and my samosa.

After I was done eating, I looked at the empty sheet of paper with sadness and made a promise to myself that every alternate morning, I would sin. Calories can just go to hell for all I care.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

A new dawn..

A post after a million days - thanks to some violent prodding from a certain special someone.

R: btw i am angry at you
R : since you have joined work, you seem to have put your own writing at a complete back seat
G: yea, i know
R: you work is profession, and your blog is your hobby, y don't i see your blog being updated, during maybe the most eventful period of your life?

So here i am, trying to making a post - I've gotten rusty, i have forgotten how to just write for the fun of writing. I write now with thoughts of will my editor like it, does this fit the writing style of the magazine, would people give it a second read and so on.

It's funny how life takes you to these absolute dead ends and just when you think things just can't get any worse, your brain begins to see light - the light of acceptance. Shit happens and you just learn to deal with it.

I've grown up in the past 2 months, living away from home. Suddenly there is this burst of responsibility resting on my shoulders - starting with getting my clothes washed to meeting article deadlines to jumping onto the train quickly and hanging on to anything for dear life.

Living out of home is like walking on thin glass. It takes time to get used to it. But once the mental block of "Can i do this? Am i capable enough?" is out of your head, the world is yours to rule.