La la laaaaaaaaaaaaa.
I'm just back from Delhi abrim with holiday spirit. I go off to Goa in five days, and yes, I know, Goa during New Year's is like a mela or something, but we have cottages! And we're driving down and you know I heart road trips. Even the fact that Airtel and Vodafone and every other service provider seems to have only one thing on their agenda: Make eM as miserable as possible; isn't a dampener.
Plus, I will be whirling with social activities even before I leave. My plan was originally to get some work done on the book--edits are happening and I'm wading through each chapter, tweaking and fixing--but that's all going to have to happen in the daytime. I like writing at nights, nighttime is when I am awake and alive and alert. In fact, the book got written mostly during the hours between 1 am and 3 am, back in my house in Delhi. I don't know whether it shows in the writing. I hope so. I want it to be a late night book. A vodka book. I can't wait for it to be out already. (April, by the way, dahlinks, as far as I know)
Speaking of books, my supremely talented friend Samit has his third book out. If you're a fan, you already know this. If you're not a fan, you should be, because his books are awesome. I've been all literary this weekend, and even met with Advaita Kala, author of Almost Single, a book I enjoyed hugely. We met right before my flight had to leave, so hurriedly at the IIC, over chutney sandwiches and coffee we discussed Indian Chick Lit and What It Means and Dodging Labels.
This time in Delhi I even took a break from 4S (which was packed on a Saturday night! Whatever is the world coming to when beloved dives are being taken over?) and went to the very posh Smokehouse Grill in GK II. Run by the same guy who owns Mocha, I believe, it's a lovely place, even if it IS super expensive. Very nice music, decent crowd, a little small by Delhi standards but hey, I live in Bombay, I can't complain. And it was nice going somewhere that wasn't the same ol', same ol', you know? I went with Surly Girl, back from Australia for a holiday (and who has totally inspired me to go to Sydney next year. I'm putting coins in my piggy bank already!) and Mr Crowley and many other non-blogging friends, coz I have some of those too. My energy levels run lower in Delhi, plus living with the mater meant I got calls asking, "Where are you? What time are you coming home? Who's dropping you?" which, shall we say, dampened my all-night-long enthusiasm. (Plus, we all ran out of money).
The weather in Delhi was brilliant, at least the weekend I was there. It was like the city was welcoming me back with open arms. Patches of winter sunshine, even disembarking from the flight to be told it was five degrees celcius outside wasn't so bad. And Sunday, when I left, it was gloomy again. Awwwwwwwww. Delhi, I love you too.
And I forgot to mention the man I met on the plane. (An OLD man, so no plane romance) There was lots of turbulence, and I couldn't read, so I grasped the side of my seat and tried not to squeal, which is when we made eye contact and he told me all about his life. He's writing a book, works in sales, has consequently no time for writing. "I bought a separate laptop for my novel," he said mournfully, "But I have no time." His wife has an MA in Economics, and so doesn't appreciate creativity. (This is point where I began to edge away and fiddle nervously with my headset) His daughter is 23, lives in Delhi and is married and the COO of her company. She's uber creative. He told me all about his novel as well, but because idea plagiarism is rampant, I'm not going to post it. And he has a son. We didn't talk much about his son, only his daughter and his mother, until I said "Excuse me" and watched Heroes for the rest of the flight.
My outgoing calls aren't happening, because Airtel stopped by on a "surprise verification visit" and I wasn't home and tomorrow is a bank holiday sooooooooo, Merry Christmas. Happy belated Eid and if I don't get a chance to blog before Goa, an excellent New Year.