9 November 2006

The One In Which I Have Nothing To Say (so I strongly recommend, no URGE, you to read something else for a bit)

(Posted here yesterday)

Do you ever wish you were an heiress? (Or an heir, whichever one is applicable.) (Incidentally is it an heir or a heir?) I know I do. I wish I was Paris Hilton—well, not her precisely, I wouldn’t want her life—but I wish I had lots and lots of money and I didn’t have to work for it. I wish I could, if I chose, take off somewhere exotic, like, oh, Bali. And sit on the beach with my Givenchy shades and my YSL bikini and my Loius Vuitton tote bag and watch the waves. I wish I could spend my days waking up lazily at noon, ringing the bell for the first of a series of maids to come in and bring me a cup of coffee. And not just any coffee either. It would be cappuccino, finely whipped, so the foam would come off on my upper lip. Then I’d call my rich friends, and get into my car (depending on my mood, it would be either that big fancy SUV type car that everyone seems to have, or a little zippy one) and go somewhere posh for lunch. Like 360. Where we would eat sushi with chopsticks, because we’d know how to use them without getting the sauce all over our chins or dropping the damn things a hundred times because they’re too slippery. Mmmm.. sushi. And we’d be all shiny haired and clear skinned, and things like weather would never bother us at all—because really, we’d only have one kind of weather—air conditioning.
Then, perhaps, I’d go home, and slip into my soundproof studio—with a Bose system and ocean blue wall-to-wall carpeting, the kind that sinks under your toes when you walk across it, and I’d curl up on the couch and pull my laptop up to me and write all day—pausing every now and then for refreshments. And I wouldn’t need to do anything else—because I would be an heiress, so I could exhaust whatever creative spurt I had and then go shopping to like Mango.

And because I was an heiress, I’d buy me something exciting to blog about. A weekend abroad, perhaps. And you would gasp, and say oh my, what a fascinating life you lead. And I would be all modest and say, it’s not so much really. And because I was an heiress, I’d buy me some love—because the Beatles were wrong and money can so buy you love---and he would be all pretty and kind and supersmart and he’d sharpen my pencils and bring me coffee and talk over story ideas with me and when we got married, he’d take care of the kids while I worked. And sure, people would whisper that he only married me for my money, but we would hold hands everywhere we went and we’d have private jokes and five dogs and I wouldn’t care even if he did marry me for my money, because he’d be like the employee of the year. Of the century, even.

But I’m not an heiress. I’m not even close to being an heiress. And my weekend consisted of being fairly sober this time, at birthday parties, and going shopping to Sarojini Nagar—where I picked up some excellent clothes. And some of them actually had Mango tags on them. So there. But I am whisking myself off for exotic holiday. Well, not quite so exotic, and not quite a holiday either. More like an, um, weekend break. To Bombay. Because I’m bored out of my skull, because suddenly Delhi, this city I love so much is acting like a big fat pain in the ass, and I think a little distance would do us both some good. So it is to Bombay I go—to spend time with the beloved Pieces and perhaps help her move house (read: stand around and offer suggestions). But because I’m not an heiress, I can’t just drive by to the airport all packed and leave and I need to do all sorts of things like book tickets in advance and seeing as I’m not an heiress, again, I don’t even own a credit card, so I need to go by the office of the airlines and pick up my tickets in person and oh, being an heiress would make my life so much simpler. I need to wait two weeks now, in anticipation of Party Expedition type weekend, just getting out of Delhi would be fun, even if I only was going to Chandigarh and I wouldn’t go to Chandigarh because they wouldn’t let me smoke. If I had company, maybe I’d go to the hills, but my friends feel differently about weekend breaks, and they don’t quite need the weekend break. I haven’t had a holiday in forever, not since May, not since Egypt and May seems so far away, like it belongs in another lifetime.

Sure, I’ll be very, very broke when I return (because why? Because I’m not an heiress) but that’s okay, right? Tickets to Bombay: 5,500 rupees, money spent in Bombay: 3,000 rupees (okay, I’m reaching here, I realize); an impulse-filled weekend vacation: priceless. Tra-la-la, if only I had a MasterCard.

ps: Pieces will probably be superbusy, so if you're in Bombay and you're free, totally email me and we'll hang out and get shitfaced somewhere nice or something. Go on, do, you know you want to.

19 comments:

  1. this tmie i am thinking i am 1st to put coment 4 ur bloge but allredy spidermans is come and becom 1st so i am 2end. i am feling if i am 1st to put coment than u wil certanely reseponese me.
    u r certanely seing my coments 4 u, so why u r not reseponse? full snoby i think.
    do not wory for no money even i am no mony but still hapiness can be there. all comes from inside. ask Swami Aiyappa to give peace 4 u. i will also pray him 4 u.
    plese u enjoy mumbai okie. i am waiting ur return and ur reseponse.

    ReplyDelete
  2. um eM, you don't need to be an heiress to know how to use chopsticks! lol!
    funny how your life as an heiress didn't involve donating a single dime or paisa, which denomination are you inheriting your millions in, was committed to charity. heiresses must do such things as well so that world hates them less for the luxuries that they enjoy.
    i'm sure you'll have a brilliant time in mumbai, peices or no pieces. bouncy and i experienced the best blues night yet at The Bar. muy brillianto!

    hmm if i was an heiress i'd travel, bagpack, and luxury, everywhere. i'd have famous musician, filmmaking and writer/academic friends. uber rich bankers and oilers fawning all over me. wait save for the travelling i have that already they're just not famous.....yet. and the shoes. i'd have so many shoes that imelda marcos would seem mostly sane in comparison. and clothes. wheeee...........this is such fun! now if it only were real. yeah i forgot to put some oney aside for chaity too. oh ok i committ a few ashrafiyan to WWF and Greenpeace and i guess i won't but those stocks in Shell or Haliburton. but i will date oilers!

    ReplyDelete
  3. buy those stocks i meant. sigh...the only stable relationship in my life is the one between me and typos.

    ReplyDelete
  4. You're losing your position as chick-lit queen. Perhaps to Scout at http://doyouwannafess.blogspot.com.

    And if Dinesh Kartikeyan hadn't existed we should have invented him.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I'm hooked. And lined and sinkered. Dewwwwwwwd, I'm like totally adding you to bloglines (just to show, kya cool hain hum :P ).

    - Greatest Fan.

    ReplyDelete
  6. hello swetey i amte good news 4u my mummie is leting me 2 go 2 mumbai 4 mete with u. i am teling her aiyo paavam going mumbai 4 meet frends and asking others 4 meating also so she is saing ok u also can go 4 meating.
    plese u tell me where i can meet 4u. i will arife on train on frieday.
    i am not folowing ur last line about shitface. y 2 put the fecel mater on faces?

    ReplyDelete
  7. so why aren't you responding to dinesh kartikeyan, i'm curious? it can't be coz he sounds like an idiot, i've seen the men you date, idiocy is no bar.

    ReplyDelete
  8. spiderman: no, actually, i think not. when I'm talking, I have no delete or back button, and therefore i sound either inarticulate or vague. it's quite sad.

    dinesh: dude, please. you are as always a source of amusement, but you're beginning to bother me. so either whip off that mask and reveal yourself forever, or just... go away.

    preeta: thank you! although i wish you hadn't chosen the most insipid post to say that! :)

    hobo: (almost, i used your "real" name, it's quite hard juggling our cyber/real identities here, isn't it?) okay fine :P i can't use chopsticks, it's my dirty little secret. well, no longer secret since i have announced it, but still. and yeah, thought of donations, and philanthrophy and so on, and i totally WOULD, really, but it didn't seem to go with the whole theme of the post. i'm so shallow, i scare me. and you already have (almost) famous writer friends :). and shush, at least the men i date can string together the english language and stop taking pot shots at my love life, or the lack thereof! (phew. maybe we should just stick to emailing each other)

    AQC: ahhhhhhh, i'm so GLAD. i've been trying to lose that tag for quite a while! :)

    witwis: thank you! on a grumbly sort of day, that's really nice to hear. :)

    (dinesh, i will admit, your next comment made me laugh for quite some time)

    ninja: it took me a while to GET your comment, and then it suddenly struck me and then i went ohhhh, so it IS an and not a, so thank you :)

    the question is whether or not i should put up another post today.

    ReplyDelete
  9. on the other hand, here is my daily horoscope. almost portentous i say:

    The spirit of generosity fills you today. Your philanthropic efforts come back to you in unexpected, indirect and yet totally appropriate ways. Your life becomes more colorful, varied and meaningful.

    ReplyDelete
  10. The Virulent Tour Guide Returns.
    Don't miss out the itani restaurants in the city, the best bun maska chai you'll ever have.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I am a regular reader. Can you please try some other color than black for your background.
    The white font glares like anything and it does not help readers I guess.

    ReplyDelete
  12. i've never got this whole bun maska thing. is it like a "special" bun? :) or is it just one of those britannia ones with candied fruit and a butter on it? coz THAT i can make at home. btw, thanks for your other comment--most helpful!!

    and charwaha, i've tried experimenting. really. but this one seemed to stick. the other blog though, has a white background, so maybe you should read that?

    ReplyDelete
  13. Errata-Irani not itani.
    Anyway, these are freshly baked buns, so mornings or evening tea time would be the best time to go.
    Tonnes of other places to go etc and yeah you're also dropping smack in the middle of the Prithvi Theatre festival (ends on the 19th) so there.

    ReplyDelete
  14. try scrambled eggs at irani cafes (they're dhabas, really). i think there's this one somehwere in town that has this huge signboard of do's and dont's. mostly dont's . no talking to the counter lady. no gambling!!! no asking directions. hehehe.........

    and eM please take pictures of loney, boozy uncles sitting aroudn in permit rooms.

    as for poking fun at each other, i say carry on. this is fun.

    ReplyDelete
  15. Start at the Sunlight cafe [which is anything but] near churchgate, but serves cheap booze and a variety of munchies, which is all you really ever need.
    Then you can go to Britannia the king of bawa food joints [apparently], stumbled long to Junta in Bandra after which you make your completely smashed way down to Sea View in Juhu, until finally you stumble into Prithvi and have some late night Rs.5 chai to sober you up, which by this time will be all the cash you have left anyway, and you don't even need to be a hilton.
    Dammit I feel so homesick now

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for your feedback! It'll be published once I approve it. Inflammatory/abusive comments will not be posted. Please play nice.