From One to ZERO !

There are times in my marriage when I know that I am the better half and he is just a half. Actually most of the time. This half works with me in the same organization so we are classic examples of overlooking the existence of each other.

When we are at our respective homes with parents on vacation, there comes a gap wherein this half gets frustrated with missing socks, misplaced id cards, laundry that has piled up like an iceberg on a chair and no one to blame. Meanwhile, my brain recognizes the absence of a significant other and soothes the body to generate happy hormones. It is a state of complete bliss and harmony, when one can exist without being under anyone’s expectation. So this time around, after two weeks of being on relax mode, he visited me at my place with tickets to the movie ZERO. First day, first show. Well it’s been a decade with this half so he knows that Shah Rukh Khan is my first love.



Image Courtesy: Here

The crazy fangirl that I am, updated on Facebook the moment I checked into the theatre with a pic of me and my little one. The half did not want to be a part of this picture or situation because it was crucial for his image to stay far away from Shah Rukh Khan Movies. So there we were, seated pretty comfortably in Gold class recliner seats, super excited about ZERO.

Few minutes in the first half of the movie went well. After that, I kept checking my Facebook and found the likes on my theatre check-in increasing exponentially. I felt elated. The songs and SRK’s charm were crushed at its prime by Anushka Sharma and her expressions that literally reached a new level of outrageousness. All my efforts to overlook her went in vain. The film which had picked up pace initially, was exploring various degrees of ridiculousness in the second half, by experimenting with characters, expressions and a story that made absolutely ZERO sense.

 

The half and the little one who were seated either side of me, glanced at me whenever SRK came on screen and was like ‘Seriously? You like THIS guy? THIS GUY? ’. Well, ten years of marital arts makes one a pro in the art of snubbing. I was holding close to my heart the Shah Rukh of DDLJ who scripted in rock, the qualities of the ultimate romantic hero. I was not going to give up on my SRK for these two judgmental creatures whose taste in movie heroes were comparable to that of a goat.

However, I secretly wished in my heart that SRK did not do this film. Or Jab Harry Met Sejal. Or Jab Tak Hai Jaan when Jesus was one of the characters – that would have been a horrifying experience even for Jesus.

The half got tired of rolling eyes at me and went to sleep. SRK and Anushka started conversing from space shuttles. R Madhavan made an appearance and I felt sorry for that guy as well. In a decade, from standing tall in ‘Three Idiots’, he fell into a pit deeper than the Pacific Ocean.  That was the real ten year challenge, guys.

Later, the reviews of ZERO were out on every platform, where movie reviewers blatantly awarded zero stars and wrote the meanest of feedback about the movie. My check-in on Facebook, captioned “first day first show”, shamelessly in caps, was still out there, nowhere to run for cover. People were now probably clicking sarcastic likes on my post and I could actually hear them roaring in laughter. Well, now the damage was done and there was no coming back. If I took down the post, I could've invited my mean friends to have a field day at my expense.

Moral:

Checking in on Facebook is injurious to health. Please read the review carefully before posting.

Believe in YOU.

I was the least competitive of all the kids I grew up with. My aunts and the friends of my parents were very happy with my existence as I had proven that I was never going to overachieve or be a competition to their children. I have nurtured this wonderful attribute and continued being the same.

My day mostly starts with counting the hours up to when I can go back to sleep again. My resolutions are mostly to stop some annoying habit or to reach a certain level in Angry Birds. It NEVER consists of anything productive. It is ironic to say this being in IT field, as my core skill requires frequent updating. However I have a PhD in the art of procrastination. If any one of you systematic and prompt people out there needs any tips on the 7 habits of highly lethargic people, I can give you a free trial speech… possibly two weeks later.

I am not in the race to look prettiest (as if I could be in that race lol ), to get promoted or to be the best in whatever I do. When I look around I can see people in a desperate attempt to climb up the corporate ladder. Well I am not judging anyone, being proactive is cool but you can also work hard in silence and not yell from rooftop if you work extra hours. I see some kids getting very serious about winning prizes for games at birthday parties. What happened to just participating and having fun?

So we were at a hotel in Munnar on New Years Eve. The hotel restaurant had arranged a gala dinner which had a variety of food and drinks. There were games, songs and dances through the night. One of the many games was the most annoying classic, The Musical chair. The introvert in me found the darkest corner of the party and set up camp there. As I was comfortably settling in the dark minding my own business, some hotel staff started games for ladies. I tried my best to be polite by accepting the offer to participate (and boycott later of course). The staff had other plans though. I gave up my cozy corner and reluctantly went upto the stage where the musical chair began for women. I was casually walking around chairs (murmuring and swearing under my breath) like a retarded jobless female when suddenly the lady behind me stepped on my feet. I turned around and she said Sorry. I said ‘it’s okay’, but deep inside I was contemplating the torture I was undergoing by leaving a peaceful place only to come to the limelight and be kicked by random strangers. The lady kept kicking me atleast eight to ten times and each time I noticed that she was madly calculating the chairs as the music played. She was playing this game as if her life depended on it and hence ignored the pain she was causing to people behind and in front of her. She was crazily keeping one step forward for each chair!

Yes you can cheat in musical chair also. These are the type of obsessive women one should stay far away from. These are the mothers whose children can’t handle failure, breakups or rejection because they were taught that they HAVE TO win. Be it a lottery or a lucky draw that gives balloons as prizes, they should win by hook or by crook. Little do they realize that at the end of day, they are cheating, lying, making more enemies than friends and are being dangerously cunning.

Well I left the game soon enough .This feet-crusher lady dint win either, and I had an extra drink to celebrate her loss. I owed it to my toes, my poor toes.  

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I have come across people who have no sense of tune, voluntarily singing at events just for a participation prize. The collective eardrums and sanity of the audience are tested. Music is insulted. Further still, some "singers" at parties have made me want to cry and go to office – imagine how bad that would have been.

 

It is still okay to live and let live. Not all prizes need to be won. Not all talents are gifted to us. Even in the midst of cut throat competition, we have our space, our unique identity, something about us that cannot be replaced by anyone. Believe in that.

Believe in YOU.

Bicycle Diaries..

Is 2018 almost over already? That’s like 365 days of my life I royally wasted planning to do something worthwhile. I am unable to recall doing anything productive with my life apart from writing codes and being on the core team for a successful go-live of a huge project, but this cannot be called as an achievement. So basically what did I do?  I ignored my health more than any other year. (Insert sarcastic applause here). Sometime in January, the procrastinator in me decided to document the to-do list for 2018 “later”, and that “later” never came so I have conveniently forgotten them. One point I can faintly remember was to learn to ride a bicycle.

I drive car in India and Oman but riding a bicycle has always been a challenge. Fortunately, knowing how to ride a bicycle was not a prerequisite to get admissions or jobs or to get married :D Dreaming about riding a bicycle itself was out of my league, thanks to my super conservative but highly educated parents. We were living under a rock of old-school beliefs. So my bicycle dreams did not fly during my childhood, in fact it dint even hatch. I wasn’t allowed to go to school excursions nor did I visit the homes of any friends, let’s all piously observe a few seconds of silence for that.

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In early 2018, I decided to learn to ride a bicycle. Now this was a decision which had several dependencies. Firstly, there should be a bicycle. Secondly, there should be a person who has time and interest to teach. Thirdly, I should initiate to learn. The first two were not hard to find but the third one was quite a Herculean task. So my seven year old had been asking for a bigger bicycle and his Dad bought him one which was only one size smaller than a normal adult bicycle.

Last evening we were at the park as the little one wanted to ride it outdoors. Suddenly this thought struck me – I wouldn’t look too big on this one! All my three prerequisites have been met, my stars have aligned and the Universe has conspired to realize my dream. So what am I waiting for? The boys were discussing the gears on their new toy with joy and enthusiasm when I dropped the bomb on them- ‘Can you teach me too ?’

My question was met with mixed reactions. My son’s expression was something like ‘Is she serious? Would she fall and ruin my new bicycle ?’  The spouse was looking around and had an expression like ‘Are there any hospitals nearby…’. After few minutes of dramatic silence, they both mentally aligned to agree. I sat on the bicycle, and the spouse caught it from behind the seat. ‘Keep pedaling!’ they said. I was scared to ask them to click a photo (what is the point of doing something out-of-the-box and not updating on Instagram?). My son was excited as opposed to my expectations. He proudly watched me cycling my dreams away.

The next ten minutes I got support from him, and after that I was on my own. It was such an exhilarating experience, to ride without any help and to be able to strike off at least one row from my bucket list. I have no words. I never got such satisfaction whenever I activated my code without any errors. I never found such happiness even when I was appreciated for my work at office.

Last but not the least, the priceless expression on the faces of my boys gave me goosebumps.

The expression was something like “This bicycle is done with”.
 

The price of Stress.

Stress is a fireball that burns holes everywhere it hits, including the pocket.

Work has kept me on my toes all month (and year, and the year before), and stress sucked all my creative juices that the only thing I write now is Code. The pressure to drag myself into unreasonable deadlines manifests itself into many glorious ways, like annoying everyone around on purpose. Anyone trying to get in my way gets showered with words I have handpicked to celebrate the auspicious occasion of my stressful life.  So one fine morning, the spouse became the victim and then what happened next, sky-rocketed our family expense graph out of the frame.

I went straight to the jewelry shop and bought that gold pendant I’d been eyeing for quite some time. Someone is legally available to be annoyed by me, so why should we waste the opportunity? So Ms. Stress heaved a sigh of relief and evil-laughed at the spouse. This laugh later echoed into my entire month as it was just one week into September and I had already depleted all resources. Gold is too costly to be bought at the spur of a moment, my dear friends and Ms. Stress is pure evil. Coming to think of it, I could have bought diamonds, at least I dint do that right?

The same week, I had further differences within my work circles and lost my sanity yet again. This time I headed to the mall and bought a top. There was a sale and the top was beautiful. So now it is evident that the finances of my family rest solely on the demeanor of my colleagues. After all the hasty purchases I made, I never felt guilty for what I bought. The pendant looks so lovely that any female with a good sense would appreciate me for the classy buy. Actually they’d ask me what I drank before heading to buy it rather than whether I was really stressed ;-)

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Apart from money, there are other ways one pays for being stressed. I just have to run my fingers through my head once, and voila ! there’s a bunch of hair in my hand! One pays for stress with hair. Like I wrote earlier, my parlor lady has slashed her prices for hair treatments specifically for me, as she does not have to work too hard in my case. My friend said she could see my scalp from the elevator when I was climbing the stairs. There is light reflecting from my scalp in some of my selfies. So in the weekend I headed to the hairstylist again and asked her whether there is any way to not let the world know that I have no hair. She nearly cried and gave me a pretty reasonable haircut, but yeah the scalp can still be seen. And you who saw it from the elevator – get a life!

Sigh, and end of day when I go home, hair or no hair, there is my little son-shine, who can wipe out any stress effortlessly. ‘Amma you’re my best friend’ he said-just before revealing that he lost his new pencil, eraser, color pencil pouch and English notebook all on the same day.

But, who cares! I am his best friend yoohoo!