FACEBOOK, THE HAPPY WORLD....

Facebook is a happy world. While my friend Nidhi is having the time of her life with her friend Switty, my college mate Neelu is checking in at Café Coffee Day with “Yay! Girls Night Out” as the status. I click Like.

 

I move on to my cousin who has uploaded a photo of herself almost canoedeling with the ‘love of her lyf’ in a place that looks like Leh, thanks to the Yak that is innocently gawking at them in the background. Her tagline says “Thank you my Sonu for making my life so perfect. I LOV U” with picture courtesy given to some dejected soul. I click Like and comment “This is so perfect Sister! I am so happy for you.”  With a straight face and no emotion, I move on to the next.

Hey, look at this! My ex has updated his status “Bought my first Merc, a black beauty. Can’t wait to take my gorgeous wife for a ride in it.”  I wince, walk over to the fridge and take out a tub of Baskin-Robbins ice cream. I then return to the bed, gag myself with it as I move the cursor to update my facebook status.

“Awesome Saturday. Crazy!”

I shut down my laptop and sleep. The ice cream drips on my laptop.

I was unemployed for a whole one year after college. I did not sit for placements, reasons still unknown to me. All the law firms I applied to personally wanted those with experience. Here I was a National Law School graduate, unemployed. I was lost when my father declared that he sees a future Judge in me and I saw the prospect of preparing for Judicial service as the last straw to clutch on while drowning. I hated preparing for it, kept looking for jobs, got a few jobs, rejected them, got rejected and hated myself. But every time a distant relative asked my parents what I was doing with my life, they replied “Our daughter studied in the National Law University but did not sit for placements because she always wanted to give Judicial service a shot. She is now preparing for it.” The listener looked at me and said “Shabash beta…”, making a donkey feel like an intelligent dolphin, all the time cringing in the inside about the subtle reality. But he doesn’t need to know about all that. Does he? He goes home and tells his son how intelligent and competitive Mr. Anil’s daughter is.

Everyone on your facebook list is like that distant relative you told the selective truth to. You deleted the sour part and served him the dessert. He fell for it and got upset at the inefficiency of his child. Facebook is that last course of a buffet and everyone is served desserts. No one can be undisputedly and continuously happy. Fairytales are just enormously exaggerated reality.

Tina just uploaded a picture of her hand with a big chunky diamond ring and a tagline that says ‘On top of the world. Engaged to Mr. SO & SO’. She hides the scared heart that is trying to bury the rejections of the past, the lies that she have told him about her history and the future that is yet to unwrap itself.

You and I, get jealous of her. Self loathing mode initiated.

So, the next time someone shouts out their achievement on facebook or forces you gawk at the picture of them vacationing in Macau, be happy for them and move on realizing that behind all that celebratory hullabaloo and boastful jigs lies a reality as realistic, plain and challenging as yours and mine.

And with that I move on to update my status… “Made my first appearance as a lawyer in court. Feeling like Alan Shore.”

No one has to know about me calling the Male judge “Madam” and making a complete fool of myself.  Do they?

I guess Not.

P.S- The previous post was deleted because I felt disgusted by it.

P.P.S- Thank you for being a reader and a friend. I have something small planned up for you and me this 16^th. :)

THE ART OF BEING TRADITIONAL WITH A MODERN APPROACH....

A quintessential Indian woman should be traditional. She should be shy, reserved, blushing at the rate of 1 blush per 15 seconds and above all she must practice geometrical drawings with her toes on the ground at the sight of a guy she likes. According to the “SOCIETY, A CRAZY BREED” dictionary, a modern girl means “A homo sapien of the female gender who suffers from a psychological illness whereby she believes that she is born with the freedom that only the male gender enjoys.” In a country like India, being modern is the more unacceptable than pre marital sex.

So I got enlisted in one of the premium matrimonial websites last year, for a period of 3 mths. My profile was paid for, extra bucks were thrown in to get my profile highlighted in blue and a little more was spent for the ease with which the male species would come across a tigress like me. After all I am such a magnificent catch. At the end of 3 mths and 72 proposals, all of which came from divorcees, innocent 25yr old divorcee with YouTube links on his profile of him singing,  10^th class fail, 45 year old pedophiles, bald body builders, too thin to be carried on my shoulders, watchman, Muslim men with a fantasy of marrying a Hindu girl and women pretending to be men, my family called it quits. They were disappointed with the kind of crowd I was drawing to myself. My relatives declared that there was something very very wrong with me. When every second Indian traditional girl is finding her Mr. Perfect through matrimonial site intervention, why not me? The answer was found in my Bio which read something like this:

“We are looking for a suitable alliance for our fair, well educated and employed daughter. Our daughter is Modern and was raised in the North. We seek alliance from Like minded boy with SHUDH JADAKAM. Please contact us for the detailed horoscope”

The reason behind my failed matrimonial fashion parade was the word “MODERN”. After a few hours of analyzing, over analyzing, putting forward a thesis and a dozen antithesis, my family decided to replace the word “MODERN” with “TRADITIONAL WITH A MODERN APPROACH”. That is the sole hurdle in my journey towards matrimonial enlightenment. So now my 'About Me' says:

“We are looking for a suitable alliance for our fair, well educated and employed daughter. Our daughter is traditional with a modern approach and was raised in the North. We seek alliance from Like minded boy with SHUDH JADAKAM. Please contact us for the detailed horoscope.”

(Kindly note that there is no mention of the fact that I am an advocate. Thank you very much.)

How exactly does one become traditional with a modern approach? Does it mean that I drape myself with Kanjeevaram saree while wearing Louis Vuitton boots on my feet? Does it mean that I visit the temple every day and later smoke a joint at a rave party? Or does it mean that I touch my grandparent’s feet every time I leave the house and then at night share a snifter glass of wine with them? What exactly did it mean?

And then it hit me. Almost all Indian women are “Traditional with a modern approach”. Yes we are. We do like a drink every now and then but our family doesn’t know about it. We do wear short skirts when with friends but change into Kurta Pajama with Dupatta to cover our ample bosoms when we visit our grandparents. We do not see pre marital sex as taboo but we won’t tell about it to anyone. We like watching or reading porn but we won’t be open about it like the men. We have desires that our man knows but our family thinks we commit the crime that is sex only to procreate. We gossip about women who are adventurous, all the while hiding the adventures we have been a part of. We are Modern packed in a facade that is tradition.

So yes I am an epitome of a “Traditional with a Modern approach” woman. I have my secrets and I have my not so secret desires. I can make you a part of my secrets and force you to fall in love, all the while hiding my reality from the society. I lead a dual life. I am an illusionist.

And so you ask me, will I get married now that I am no more modern? Well, I promise you guys one thing. Whatever happens with me, it shall not be an ordinary story. It shall not be a simple case and it shall definitely not be through a matrimonial website parade. After all, I am traditional with a modern approach. *WINKS*

P.S- Do not see me as someone who is against the idea of getting married with the help of matrimonial websites. I am all for it and many of my friends are getting married to perfect hot sizzlers because of it. I just don’t like being a part of it.

P.P.S- New Year to you all!!! It is upon you and destiny to make it Happy or Crappy.

LEMONS.......

Have you heard the sound of your amazing goals being crushed into powder by the obese feet of destiny? It sounds a zillion times worse than the fart my elderly neighbour Mr. Kukreja involuntarily passes as I drop him to the local supermarket in my Car with the windows up and AC on. It smells worse too.

Judicial service wasn’t meant to be and I know so because I lost it with a margin of 8 marks from the cut off. Having taken a year drop after my law graduation to exclusively prepare for this marathon exam and having being doubted about my choice by every member of my family tree, it quite sucks when you prove them right. But Bollocks! I did try. 

But life is a funny thing and she gives you a sign in the weirdest of time. On the judgment day, I was moving in circles around the laptop awaiting the result that could possibly save my dignity. After all the basic purpose of our sad little life is to please the society. Just then the results came out and with the pain in my heart and Sahara desert in my throat I found out that the Indian courts weren’t lucky enough to have me as a judge. It hurt. It even hurt to realize that I rejected the job I was recently offered in Chennai. I rejected 4 decent job offers for this one thing. It hurt.

Just then the door bell rang. I stared at the laptop, rubbed my eyes, searched for my big glasses, wore them and then walked towards the front door. It was my farty neighbour’s little grandson with a huge white sack that he could barely carry. Still recovering from my comitragic defeat I just sat on the ground and looked at him. The little ugly boy just grinned and pushed the sack towards me as he said “Garden se Tode Hain Nana Ne. Aap le lo”

Lemons. Around 50 of them.

And then I laughed looking at the lemons as if I was a witch who just found the missing ingredient to her potion of immortality. I laughed till the kid left me standing alone before the open door as he ran away and never looked back. I laughed till my eyes couldn’t see clearly.  Life had given me lemons and I was not going to weep over it. But what do you do when life gives you 50 lemons. You make “Nimbu ka Acchar”. Yes! And have it with some Mooli Ke Parathe.

It is quite Ok when the thing that you have been working towards for the longest time, doesn’t work in your favour. It is alright when your extended family which was waiting for your defeat has finally got it. It is even fine when you do not know where your life is headed to. But you have got to move. That is all you need to!

So you ask me, what’s next? Well, this blog post is typed while sitting in the High Court of Kerala. Yes!!!  I joined an amazing Law firm here and I am a litigating advocate now. So what if I did not become a judge, I can always stand on the other side and make their life miserable. You see life is good, provided you use the Lemons in your favour.  Your Honour, My Ass!!

P.S- An update after a whole month. Well, atleast you know what kept me busy.  No internet connection so currently using the Law firm's free wifi. Pray I don't get fired. Amen!

MY WAISTLINE

I am thinking of having an apple as I type this. Actually chuck that because to be quite honest, I was thinking of ordering a Margherita Pizza with extra cheese from Domino’s right now, since I am home alone and the Menu card that got delivered to me with the morning newspaper is proof enough that the Universe wants me to have a pizza foreplay today. Maybe by the time I get to the end of this post, this pizza laden desire will go away. 

By the way I am also thinking about grilling some Vegetarian Seekh Kebab later this evening. It is 4’o clock already but Seekh kebabs are not the ones to be affected by the Indian Standard Time. Sadly, today morning as I lay in the Shavasana pose during my powerless yoga class, I had made a resolution to not eat anything that would make me spread like a dough with yeast in it. Speaking of dough with yeast in it, I am still thinking about ordering that pizza. Oh did you know that I have some home-made chocolate syrup in the refrigerator?  Pretty easy to make you know. Some brown sugar, some good quality cocoa powder, some vanilla essence and some water, boiled and reduced till you reach the syrup like consistency. How about killing the seekh kebab idea and making some nice fluffy pancakes. It would soak my chocolate syrup so well. Oh Yes!

Green tea is good. I had two cups of green tea today. So I guess I deserve to go out and buy a Paneer Bhurji Puff Pastry for an evening snack. I know I had that yesterday but something about a nice crumbly puff with a melt-in-your-mouth filling of Paneer and caramelized onions deserves my attention even today. I am already forgetting about the Margherita pizza.

What will mom cook for dinner? There are some Cauliflowers and a few White radishes lying unattended inside the fridge. Maybe I will ask her to make me some Gobi Mooli ke Parathe with a chunk of butter melting in the divine heat of the paratha. That reminds me that I need to go buy some sweet lime pickle because nothing compliments a Mooli paratha than a sweet lime pickle.

Yesterday I wanted to have some chocolate. But I was dieting so I did what a prudent girl like me would do. Yes, I made some chocolate brownies. It was eggless and butter-less of course because I don’t like compromising with my health. But a chocolate brownie needs its best friend to give you a happily ever after. So I went out and bought some Vanilla ice-cream and boy! It sure was divine.  Dieting is for losers. Losers as in people who lose, some weight. I am not a loser.

Did I tell you guys that I became 65 kilos from 63 kilos? Help me out here and tell me if you know exactly why this is happening to me. We can sit together and come to a conclusion while we share that Margherita Pizza which is still ruling my mind. Or you can take a walk with me while I go buy that much delicate Paneer Bhurji  puff. Who am I kidding, we will take the car, even if the shop is like a 100 mts away.

Whatever happened to the apple I was thinking of having while I started with the post? May be I should think about my waistline and just stick to having an apple. No Margherita Pizza, No seekh Kebab, No Paneer Bhurji Puff, No pancake with my amazing home-made chocolate syrup, No Gobi Mooli ke parathe, No melting butter. Just one good old, low calorie, doctor repelling  Apple. After all, I am not someone who breaks a SHAVASANA  RESOLUTION.

P.S- I am posting this a day later. Yes, I just had an apple as I said……in the gorgeous, divine, exquisite form of…….. an APPLE PIE.  Jesus Christ!! Victoria’s Secret should come up with a body mist that smells like an Apple pie with a hint of Cinnamon in it. Oh God!!!!!

P.P.S- HELP ME!! SOS!!!

P.P.P.S- Judicial service exam got over!! Phew! Chennai will happen next week because I have an interview scheduled with a law firm. I might either become a cranky judge or I might become a cranky Criminal Lawyer. I am fine either way! Just pray for me and my waistline, Will you?