The Weak Planner

Before writing anything else, I want to shout at the top of my voice- AIR INDIA SUCKS AND I HATEEEE IT.

This week was one of the most depressing that I could reminisce. Even before the week began my two day  leave long planned for one of my close colleagues' wedding stood cancelled. The air tickets had looongg been booked and were non refundable. I had sooo wanted to be a part of the ceremony in Chandigarh. The flight was Tuesday Night and I am talking of Monday Morning.

Evening I get the favour through a mail - I can go, rather I must go. (Please read- the breed called boss) Period. I am not submissive either. I have a colleague's ticket still on and decide to maintain that.

This is Tuesday. Late evening I get a call from the concerned person who was supposed to travel saying somehow his tickets also stand cancelled and he cannot go (Why/ How is all together a different story. Demeaning the party is not my objective). It is compulsive for one of us to go. I frantically call the person and ask him to arrange for some mode of transport of which we can share the cost. I get a curt reply saying no.

My eyes are brimming with tears now over the helplessness and dejection. I am panicking big time because wedding is the next day and the tickets are costing me a fortune. I spend three hours on phone working out the cheapest combination. Finally I get them done. But I am torn between gifting my parents the much awaited holiday or attending the wedding. I settle on the later for reasons obvious. I spent one entire night reconciling my balance sheet where the debits overshoot the credit by half a lakh.   

Wednesday morning I pack hastily and leave for the airport. The entire journey went unevetnful as my thoughts were stuck on the mathematical figure. I reach late evening. My colleague is elated to see me. The feeling is mutual and so for the moment the pain is gone and the entire ordeal seems successful.

Thursday morning after bidding her off to the groom's house I take the hour long cab to Baddi where my Aunt lives. Gorge on some good breakfast as I had missed my meals the last day...one due to anguish and the other amidst all excitement.

Afternoon I reach the airport settled a bit in the mind only to be told by the security that my tickets are for 13th and it was 12th that day. WTF....sorry, did not have a better exclamation than that. I plead the guards to help me out. They permit me in on humanitarian grounds and advice me to talk to AIR INDIA MANAGER ON DUTY. Yes, this is where the second fiasco starts. My flight to Delhi and on to Ahmedabad were both AIR INDIA. The manager is magnanimous to accomodate my preponement but cautions me that this arrangement was only till Delhi. He cannot guarantee the DEL- AMD confirmation. I call up my Travel Agent and vent my doubled up temper on him. I am not used to being snapped by people at fault. He plainly replies saying he cannot help at the given point of time. Roger....the tears brim up again.

By the time I board the flight I am exhausted and mentally drained. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I try my level best to stay awake but doze off god knows when. I am startled by the whimpering of a kid and wake up. Flight was to land at 4 and it is 4.15. Lost, I ask the air hostess who confirms we will land shortly. I am getting worried big time because my next flight (if i am lucky) is at 6.50.  I suddenly start feeling giddy, weak and sick. I want to throw up badly. I was the last one to get out of my flight despite the urgency cause I can barely stand. Under normal circumstances I would have surrendered to the air hostesses on board pleading them to somehow seat me in my next flight. But no, I have to arrange for my tickets. For those who have seen the Delhi Airport, it is massive. There is a good amount of distance between the domestic and international transfers. The AIR INDIA Team ensures I traverse the entire port at least twice for whatsoever reasons. They also see to it that I am handled in the most rude and unprofessional manner on display.  I am willing to pay, I am struggling to be calm and polite. I experiment all grandma's ways to counter rising temper.

Finally at 6 sharp I reach my stipulated gate all dog tired and feeling miserable. I locate a coffee point and gulp down two extra large cold coffees in one go to keep me awake and sane. " It is to inform all passengers that the AI 010 to Ahmedabad will be delayed by an hour and will now depart at 7.50" If I were dying that day that was the last nail in my coffin. I told my neighbour to wake me up when the flight arrives and close my eyes for some peace. Once on board I have someone else sitting on my seat. I seek help from the air hostess. The AI hostessess are all the age of my mothers minus the compassion and warmth. I tell one to wake me up on landing. Big Momma retaliates it is not her job. Oops the Maharaja!!! I forgot.

Hair and Their

What is the worst comment you could have ever received!! Think,.think, what..... you can't remember, SURPRISING. I believe the source of such negative comments should be flayed alive. Please listen to this before you form an opinion about me. A close colleague of mine today whilst we were in the middle of an interesting conversation pops out the most horrifying statement my ears would ever be subjected to. She said,"What is it with your hair style. It seems to resemble Sanjay Dutt so closely these days." I snapped an instant SHUT UP, and carried on the conversation like nothing had happened. But the comment infuriated me the entire day. So what if she were a good friend, so what if I had given her the liberty to pick up on me, so what if I have made some nasty remarks on her clothes choice in the past, truth always hurts. And this time it stuck like a poisoned arrow straight on my left.

The ever so conscious woman I am, I lost no time in rushing to the parlour for a hair session. I chose the best parlour in town to get my hair done. My seething soul could be comforted by nothing less than a compliment from the same source on the same subject. 

I enter the parlour and ask for the an expert in short hair. I judge the expertise of my stylist by the hair he/she keeps. This guy (I would call him BARBER hereon, you will know the reason soon) had hair the shape of a hive. They were such a curly mass as if it were handpicked and dumped on his head to rust forever there.  I chided myself for being judgemental. However the moment he rolled the scissor in my hair, I knew today and atleast a month straight I will have bad hair days. What came out was nothing Halle berry or Gul panag but if it has to be a star..........it was Salman khan of tere naam. Very confidently the barber asks me," Do you want me to dry your hair." Equally confident I shoot back, " Niether am I shooting for a shower scene, nor is your salon short of dryers." I am sure he got the sting cause he revenged it on my already ruined hair.

By the time I reversed my car I had tears in my eyes and had checked my hair in the rear view mirror a number close to the oldest person on earth. My ears were ringing with the sequel of the day's comment. I heard somewhere Sanjay Dutt and Salman Khan are close friends.

For the barber, I wish the salon would stop picking their so called stylists from under the old favorite Banyan Tree.

I am still furious.

Pain, how I know it

Today the pain is bad again. I have been through this before but that was long back. I thought I had conquered it. But no, it is as vulnerable, as fragile as a ligament, needs to be tended for life. I was trying the hit formula - pain shared is pain halved. To my dismay it doubled up, all those memories came flooding back. Endless nights of pillow sobbing, days of brooding, I thought had cured me of the ill. But no, it was always there, waiting for me to get weak.

I never talked of it because I thought it was silly to bring it up again and again. I was assured with years of endurance I had become emotionally and physically strong. Now when I look back I think confrontation would not have been a bad idea. It could have been a outlet for all that is simmering in. One major reason why I could not encroach the territory was I felt weak and timid. I was afraid I would relent and portray myself as a looser. I was wrong. Draining the dirt out is a viable option always.

Pain can be all sorts and colors. Emotional, physical, mental, all increasingly worse. They are differentiated by the cure, physical pain can be cured. Emotional needs you to cure it. It is more a matter of trial and error. Not necessary one tip fits all.

I am still lurking without success. The pain of letting go is scariest. Even the happy memories will make you sad. All one can do is keep evading till time shadows it. Ridding oneself of Pain is a lifetime engagement.

Nonetheless I am not a quitter either.

Dum Maro Dum

*** - gritty movie
Well...I do not have a reason why one should go and watch this thriller drama infused with hints of Indian melodrama. 

I was more drawn by the imposing Rana Daggubati and the sizzling item number. I came out of the theatre more glossy, glitzy and edgy. The movie held me back for the entire duration. The screenplay was definitely not a award winner. Despite the loose strings the actors managed to hold it there. Abhishek Bachchan suits in the role of a cop on a mission of cleaning Goa, Rana, the idealist Indian hero, who plays a singer in the movie, Bips does not have much to do but manages to impress, the heart goes out to Pratiek Babbar who has been trapped by the drug mafia and is on the verge of loosing his girlfriend and family.

The sun kissed beaches of Goa have been depicted as the hub of narcotics. Rohan Sippy has well captured the essence of national Party capital. The dialogues are snappy and the music hummable.

The movie is fit for people looking for a escape from the daily frenzy and wanting to just DUM MARO DUM.

Memoirs of a distressed soul

Since the last few days I have been planning to write my next blog. I was tied up not with the demands of business, rather to the current frame of my mind.  How I recalled the subject of this blog is an interesting story. I was chatting to an old friend in the morning. She brought up the subject of memory lapse saying this morning she was about to put lipstick in her eyes.

You guessed it right!!! Off late I have taken on to forgetting. I pick up an idea only to forget it in seconds. The spell is causing me a lot of troubles and is a source of embarassement in many a situations.

Just today I wore my chappals on my business suit and walked till the parking. It was only when I kick started my bike that I realised my blunder. By the time I went up again and reached office I was late for my meeting. I was mortified to hear my boss ask What was it that I forgot this day.

I can also attribute my latest mania to the company of humans surrounding me. While writing the blog I thought it would take the lime light off me if I include the anecdotes of my friends as well. I turned to two of my 'friends in need' to bail me out. Now it would not be out of order to mention that these women have always proved handy in saving my distressed soul. I wrote to both of them to narrate similar incidents. Here I am waiting and waiting without any reply. I pick up my phone and take them to task for delaying the reply. To much of my chagrin one of them admits to have had ample of such situations but now she has simply forgotten about them. And the other even better forgot to check her inbox post the beep.

The ailment is taking me places- I have been forgetting important dates (including my sister's bday), appointments (one to the doctor for the same not ruled out), routine chores (as daily as eating lunch, brushing teeth and the worst wearing shirt under my coat).

I have tried all advices made to me right from eating almonds to concentrating on a point on the wall opposite my chair. Yeah.....that was the weirdest of all and my team next door thought I had forgotten to move. I know you are having a hearty laugh at the cost of a poor me, but mind it, some of the celebrated glitterati knew the same pain. Albert Einstien is well renowned for his forgetfulness. He would forget umbrellas, dates and many more. Marlyn Monroe, the heartthrob, would forget her lines, schedules, even her love intrests at times. The reads have been enough to console and raise my bruised spirit. Forgetting the trivia gives one more brain space for logic and rationale.

However one interesting thing that has happened to me amidst all this forgetting business is.......is.........is..........err....ummmm.....guess I will mention it in the next blog.

Sshhhh, please don't tell anyone I again forgot.

No lights, no camera....all action

Last few days were big time action for me on all fronts.

For those who follow the news channels, there was a spark in the sauna of my hotel which fired big time sarkari halla. Hotel was sealed for 2 days. We were all out enjoying the Indian victory of the cup that counts. Readers need not be amazed at my indifference, I was always sure of hotel coming back with a bang......gave me the much needed break in between.

The hotel opened with the big shots of area office paying a flying visit, an enquiry of a hotel colleague calling some unknown girl at midnight from the hotel landline and an accident of a fellow colleague. Too much happening within days. No wonder we are planning a pooja to settle our planetary confusions ;). Amidst all this, one person who failed to sympathize with my back to back schedule was my mother. She could not have chosen a better time to line up two prospective grooms for her daughter.  As is true of all mothers they pick up timings with sigma precision. The will constantly nag you till such time as you either select or reject the prospects.

Make a choice, O Mortal, for thy cord is attached to thy mother. What options do you have.....jobs may be countless but not the other way round. As is expected of all obedient girls I still found time to stand all questions which are the plight of a girl my age. Note few of them along with my answers

• What are your expectations of a life partner? I am expecting a Richard Gere in BMW, if you are not, F*** off. But all I utter is no expectations, they ruin the joy. Nonsenssee
• What do you do if you see me with a girl after marriage? Bullshit.......you will keep searching me for a answer. I choose to say.....I will wait for you to tell me, I am not the type.
• Do you expect gifts on all silly occasions? Are you doubtful of me being a girl......I already have my list ready. I plead...no no they are all waste of money, I prefer saving them for future. (there is no future without a gift)
• This is the wierdest of all....how many pair of sandals do you have? Oh.....just one and that is the truth. I am waiting for money inflow from the other side to fill my cupboard geeee.

All this and many more. I am now a certified champ of " How to get a no from a husband you don't want".

Through the entire saga of drama one good thing I managed was ' F.A.L.T.U.' A film that deals with a cliche subject but a novel execution. Some fresh faces and refreshing music. I loved it to the core. The climax seemed a little too abrupt with the education minister announcing the recognition of Fakirchand and lakirchand trust university at a college function. When did the Indian bureaucracy become that magnanimous and effecient. Probably I was contrasting it with the sarkari bugger who tore my hotel's fire license amidst much of media frenzy to the endless chorus of 'ENCORE'. It was akin to Poonam pandey strip act post the world cup. No one ever got to saw it. It took us two days and countless pair of Bata shoes to get it back. Of course did not get to see a single media coverage of the hotel being reopened. Probably the media was on a long break post the barrage of negative publicity they honored us with on the short ' short circuit' in the Sauna.

I care two hoots......am too busy singing

' Aaltu jalal tu, ayi bala ko taal tu'

tension vension chod de bachcha,

ho ja fully FALTU'

1 khoon or wo bhi maaf

It is not daily that I have this intense desire to murder people around. No, I am not a psycopath on run, but how do you justify hard earned money lost on some horrible flick that was awaited for soooo long. The movie tickets were not so expensive but tickets half used.......irk.

Me and my folks stole some important time from work to watch Saat khoon maaf. The first five minutes....and we were looking left right centre wondering if we were the only ones seething with anger for the entire crew of the film. It could have been a experimental genre, but is there no law on experiments going haywire!!! Such backfiring inventions should never be allowed to see daylight. Eureka!! now I realise why the entire movie was shot in the dark.

How can someone marry the first person at sight.....is it a gun point swayamavar, we are talking about. The canvas of the movie is as diverse as the Food court of delhi haat. From a possesive one legged army man to an old fashioned natural pharmacist.......she tries em all. She even tries out her godson for that matter. God must have stopped producing such unfortunate women around .....seven husbands and none of them work. Aren't we living in an age of tough competition where everything comes guaranteed and can be exchanged failing to work. Her husbands were not even chinese.

Gee.........jokes apart.......the movie tests your patience like the promises of a parent to a kid. It is a truly disappointing venture on part of Vishal Bhardwaj. No mercy Vishal......they are all out there to murder you.