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Sunday, October 25, 2015

Toys R NOT Us.

It had been one hell of a week. Today, after a refreshing weekend, I saw this news that ZARA owner, Amancio Ortega topped the Forbes list leaving behind Bill Gates, to become the richest man. Ladies, ZARA owner’s win is our win, basically. For sure behind the success of this man there are a lot of women including us. Yay! So three cheers to Amancio!

The reason why it was one hell of an awesome week for me is that hubby was out of station for five whole days, which gave us full ownership over the TV. The kiddo was missing his Appa a lot, but he fell for the unlimited Disney offer. Another shocking revelation was made during this period, which is that the house was surprisingly clean these five days. Till date I was under the impression that it was the little one, but boy, I couldn't be more wrong. The kiddo and his girlfriend played in our living room all these days, and still the house was reasonably organized. So the bottom line is that one should think twice before blaming children for the untidy house. The real culprit is actually hiding behind the innocent child and never caught.

Another thing I noticed is that things stop working when the hubby is not around. The day he announced his official tour to me, the bedroom switch, the shower in the main bathroom and the kitchen sink overheard it somehow and all of them went on a collective strike. Initially, I planned to call the plumber after hubby came back, but the kitchen sink could not wait. Finally, I got things fixed. It was nevertheless obvious that most of the switches and appliances were pissed. Like how employees come to work after a negligible yearly increment. I was basically expecting a ceiling fan to fall on me or other things that happen only in ‘Final Destination’ series, but things went fine and we are alive. So yay. 

Another proud moment was when I actually drove the kiddo to school despite not having driven at all in the last two months. This car and I are not like friends who catch up even after ages like they spoke the previous day. Like I have mentioned before, the car thinks that I am a b***h (and I think the same way about it too).  Anyway we made our peace and things went fine.

On Saturday, hubby came home to super excited shrieks of the little one. He brought him helicopters! Till date, whenever I came out of the kitchen I looked left and right for any remote operated speeding cars, scooters or cycles because once it hits me or I accidentally step on it, the excruciating pain actually takes me to the doors of the labor room. Tiny cars are everywhere. The ones under the pillows are worst because some nights I have woken up with something pulling my hair and haven’t been able to go back to sleep, even after throwing the car into oblivion and cursing it. The next morning I step on it of course. Other days I wake up with a car imprinted cheek.  Still these things stuck to the ground (thanks to gravity) and I almost got used to the places they are likely to strike.
Image Courtesy: Here

With the advent of helicopters, my life is endangered.  Unrestricted flying objects have added to the countless cars among other things with wheels under them. My whole existence is compromised now. This reminds me that I should get my health insurance renewed. Also I should start wearing those CAT trekking shoes and helmet at home.

When the helicopter takes off and goes haywire across the hall, there are multiple emotions. Hubby’s heart beats really fast because there is a TV in the same room. I keep a straight face, but I am actually praying soulfully yet silently to the Almighty for a smooth landing. Then there is the kiddo whose elated big eyes follow the helicopter everywhere while he jumps with joy.

That is worth wearing a helmet for. 

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

All About HBDs.

Birthdays from my childhood are incomparable to any sophistication we have these days. Nowadays birthdays are bigger and they dig such holes in our wallets that we end up feeling like the entire economy has slowed down. To be honest, it actually slows down for us in the following months.

Not much long ago when I was a child, birthdays used to be really nice. The highlight being, one can’t get scolded on that day. As school uniforms were worn five days a week and the nuns made it mandatory even on weekend classes, our parents thought that dresses other than uniforms were a luxury. We got two new dresses each year, one for birthday and the other for Christmas (still there was no place in my wardrobe, which is a mystery). On my birthday, the happiness factor for me was that only I had the new dress (unlike Christmas when everyone has one). 

My Mom baked the cake always; I don’t remember a single time birthday cake was bought. Baking a cake is not a cakewalk, and the smell of homemade cake from the oven defined the real birthday atmosphere.  One could actually catch the scent from outside too. Despite our in-house differences, (sometimes we couldn’t stand each other so badly that it hurt to be in the same room) we all came together and sang ‘Happy Birthday’ as I cut the cake. 

That feeling. 

Nowadays birthdays are not bad either. Hundreds of wishes I get from Facebook, Whatsapp and the excitement of showing off the birthday dress. The little girl in me is still particular about the dress. Random people I don’t know much about wish me too. I want to be wished, I want people to like my pictures and all the people on my list to see where I checked in. That is the whole point of Facebook right?  According to the unwritten laws of Facebook etiquette, this is where normalcy ends.

HBD, my friend. Really...HBD...I mean it !  :D
Image Courtesy: Here

Then, people take this birthday thing to a whole other level. The thin line which separates normalcy from eccentricity is compromised.  They are the ones who type “HBD”. I want to talk to these people, like really.  Dude. How long does it take to type H-A-P-P-Y  B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y ? I mean, you are not Barack Obama. Or Narendra Modi, or anybody we know is extremely busy. There is no justification to typing ‘HBD’. For the uninitiated, HBD is nothing but ‘Happy Birthday’ according to the ‘Encyclopedia of imaginary jargons for jerks’. To be honest if someone said HBD to me on some other day I’d think it is something like HIV or H1N1. Just because it was seen on someone’s timeline on their birthday, I made this wild guess that it must be ‘Happy Birthday’.

So a happy anniversary is gonna be ‘HA’? And ‘Get well soon’ would be GWS? If I had a daughter and someone says ‘GWS’ to her when she is ill, I’d tell her ‘Sweetheart, this guy who said GWS. You should marry him’. When are GoodByes and Farewells going under the knife? 
You know Farewell could be just ‘F’ and that would be epic, considering how popular the alphabet 'F' is, in general.  

We have the luxury of being reminded about people’s birthdays. Let’s use it to make a person feel good. Don’t be a CJ.

P.S:- CJ – Complete Jerk. 

Monday, October 5, 2015

Fresh gyaan, straight from The Alps.

To be honest, I am not a punctual person. I respect punctual people. However, I will not fuss too much for plus or minus five minutes. Mostly plus five minutes, because there has never been a minus five minutes. Of course, the invigilator at the exam hall may not agree with me, but generally it is my personal trait. Every single day I run from home to office to swipe my fingerprint before the machine crosses the 8:00:00 mark. I will not do anything from my part to reach before time, so contrary to whatever anyone who sees me run may think, I know for one that people who come earlier to office than what is required are losers.

When we talk time, we should discuss two people whose murderous looks through my childhood haunts me till date. My parents. They are the type of people who reach before the hosts at a birthday party. I was the type who equated ‘late’ with ‘latest’. I scooped that from a Rajnikanth dialogue, but we are all Rajni fans aren’t we? We are allowed to do that.

Every single Sunday, we reached the church at least ten minutes before the service started, and these ten minutes felt like ages. Once it started and the sermon was over, I could feel wrinkles on my face. My peers who came on time or at least ten minutes into the service always stayed young and fresh even after the service. I blamed my parents for this. God was not giving out blessings on a first-come-first-served basis. Even trips to relative’s houses or shopping always began with arguments because when I start to decide what to wear, these two along with my sister would have got into the car already. Each time they honk after that, something inside me ticked off. I think that was my sanity. People need time!

As if reaching the store before the security arrived was not torture enough, they also gave me gyaan. That punctuality defines you. I thought, yeah the security decides your character. He will issue conduct certificate which you can use to avail discount. Man, I don’t understand this! The psychological move to improve my time management failed miserably. I do not clearly remember which category my sister belonged to, but as far as I know her she may have made it on time just to avoid the free advice.

When the train and you are 'On Time'.
Image Courtesy: Here

So last month we were in Switzerland on vacation. Switzerland makes all the expensive watches for a reason, my friend. Time in Switzerland is more expensive than Cartier watches. In Switzerland, it doesn’t matter if you come latest. Nobody cares. If you come late, you miss the train. If you miss the train, you wait. Also, in India you can safely assume that the train may be late. Even if you are unlucky with your predictions, you can put your money on this one. However, this assumption is invalid in Swiss. If the train is scheduled to arrive at 6:57 pm, it will. You adjust your watch with the time the train arrives.

Surprisingly there are no Rajni fans in Switzerland. People are religiously punctual, and they act like each second counts! I mean how can all the people in a country act like my parents? This is weird. I was like, this is not the place I want to be…Escaaaaapppee!

Honestly, my parents should be in Switzerland. They will have a whole country of like-minded people for friends. There will be no dearth of principles to live by. Plus, Tissot is cheap. Victorinox is available in plenty. Going by the culture of local train passengers, there are more readers than gossipers. This is like the Promised Land for them.

I’d like to add here, that the train that arrives at 6:57 will be there only at 6:57. If you get to the train station for this train at 6:00, this does not get you brownie points. You will search for seats in the train the same way the person who arrived at 6:55 does. Switzerland is cold, so you better stay warm at home for some extra time. That is my gyaan for you, straight from the Alps. You are welcome.  Okay, Bye. **runs away**

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