A list of excuses

I'm not dead, I'm not dead! Pwomise. I've just been in an un-blogging state of mind. FIRST, if you read my Twitter feeds, you'd know I had a cough. The cough turned into a full fledged viral fever, the kind your grandmother used to make, and to make it worse, I took it with me to Delhi, where I went to help celebrate my dad's 60th. AND I took a train and I had the top berth in the end of the compartment which meant I was merrily pressed up right by the air conditioning vent. I spent three of my five days in Delhi being ill, and left Lali with the virus in Bombay and altogether it was all very not nice.

BUT! I have a new phone! Previously I had this clamshell, which lasted me all of a year before it broke so the flap refused to shut so I had to, at various times, wind a bra strap, a hair band and several fraying scrunchies around it so it would shut. Enough is enough, I said to myself many times, and this time round, when my aunt and grandmother gave me some cash (note: am I too old for monetary presents?) and purchased this beautiful piece of machinery. I love it, I love it, I love it. It takes wonderful pictures and it has this thing where I can load music on to it and use it as ring tones. So far I have Nobody Knows, the Grey's Anatomy theme as my general ringtone, Build Me Up, Buttercup for my A-list group of close friends, Mahiya for everyone else I know socially, mostly drinking buddies (I am nothing, if not dhinchaak) and for JC, Anyone Else But You by the Moldy Peaches. My mum requested the belly dancer type tune already on the phone as hers, so that's the ringtone for the Family group. Gotta love technology.

But, speaking of JC, all was rather tumultous recently. We were going through a bit of a rocky phase in our relationship, and that led to many discussions, many tears, many moments of anguish and so on. But, I THINK *fingers crossed* we've worked stuff out now, we've been talking a LOT since I got back two days ago, trying and not letting things slide when they upset us, and I think we've reached this entirely new stage of intimacy which is wonderful and scary. If we ever break up, as we almost did, I'd be crushed, this is also something I learnt recently. Life lessons are HARD, man.

And, yeah, so that's why I've been remiss about updating this blog and that's why you can't be TOO mad at me. It's been quite an odd ten days. I'm loving being back in Bombay though, I don't know why, I missed it more than I had before on previous trips, even though it's raining and annoying and traffic-y, I'm still looking around with love-filled eyes and watching couples hold hands as they wait for an auto at the station, holding an umbrella at right angles so that I can be protected from the slanting rain, chilling at friends houses till two in the morning, I love this city.

Stuff I've been doin'

Sore throat, ergo bullet points.

* Pause is the new Zenzi. In my life, anyway. I started going, "Zenzi? Not so much." about a couple of months ago, and really, the less often I go there, the less I actually want to stay there once I do visit. It helps that I'm poor and therefore unable to spend my salary on Zenzi rent. It also helps, in an odd kind of way, that I'm no longer single. See, back in the day, when I went to Zenzi, I went because there would in all likelihood be someone there to flutter my stomach and fill me with a sense of possibility. P'raps after Zenzi, we'd all hang out into the wee hours of the morning and perhaps we would kiss and perhaps he'd send me flirty texts and so on. Many hearts have been broken at Zenzi. But now that I am comfortable (and, sigh, yes, slightly boring to read about) I don't need to do that anymore! Isn't it awesome? JC used to be a Zenzi type too, before you ask, in fact our very first date was at Zenzi which was annoying because people never leave you alone there, so our "date" turned into about six people and Vie and then Rock Bottom. And then back to JC's house where he played his guitar for me and I looked longingly at him--so pretty! Such a hot British accent!

In case you haven't guessed already, he isn't Indian, he's a firangi through and through, one of those reverse coconut types though, brown on the inside. It's interesting dating a firangi, it's also kinda dangerous because they very seldom want to settle down in India, usually they're just "passing through" and you have the risk of just being the "Bombay girlfriend" as there was a "Thai girlfriend" and an "Egyptian girlfriend", you know, something else to add to your Exotic Country Experience.

Although JC isn't the first firangi I've dated. Bombay is a multicultural city--and not just dipbrats either--and my dating list at the end of almost two years reads like the United Nations. Okay, not that bad either, but there have been quite a few internationals. JC wants to stay here though, in Injah, which is awesome and totally works for me.

* But though Pause on a Saturday night was excellent fun, they played stuff like Macarena and Sexy Eyes! (Which, yes, is painful unless you're in the right mood, which I was.) And then I asked for Mahiya, which still remains my all time favourite Hindi song to dance too and they played it immediately. Sadly though, there was a birthday party on, and the party throwers had brought their own DJ and soooooooooo, this entitled them to make long speeches on the microphone. This pissed me off HUGELY. I mean, sure, you got the DJ, but I'm fucking paying for my drinks and the atmosphere as well, so don't inflict ten hour long punchline-less Santa-Banta jokes on me coupled with Geeeeeeeeeeeeta-you're-awesome-happy-birthday! People are stupid and annoying.

* We now have a Sunday Night DVD Club (with its own Facebook group!). Well, by we, I mean me and Ira, who came up with the idea, and the boys we know watch with us, over bitching and complaining that we don't show "real" movies like Bourne Ultimatum or Fight Club or whatever. Ira and I take suggestions into consideration although we hold the ultimate veto vote (hey, just realised veto and vote are anagrams of each other!) and so far, there have been no complaints about the movies we choose. (Well, okay, perhaps not Becoming Jane, which should have ideally been watched just the two of us). Last night we picked The Hoax starring Richard Gere and I can strongly recommend it to anyone. It's about a fake autobiography of Howard Hughes by a writer who really wants to make some money and how he fools everyone. I love con movies. My favourites: 1) Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrells 2) Catch Me If You Can 3) The Heartbreakers. It's good shit, our DVD club, even though the boys are planning a coup and forming their own club with strippers and popcorn, I can't imagine it'll ever happen and we will rule forever. Amen.