Disjointed Dog Memories

Reading the ebook of Marley and Me on a rainy evening, right before I go out to dinner, I realise how much I miss having a dog around. TC is awesome, he's a stellar cat, does his own thing, is affectionate when he wants to be, is SERIOUSLY adorable and is the size of Garfield, but he doesn't come rushing to the door when I come home. He can't be walked. He won't be walked. His ideas of conversations with us are: "Oh, an ankle. Let me scratch it lovingly." or "Legs! Food! TC hungry!" or "I know you love me, and I tolerate you when you scratch under my chin." Cats are cats and dogs are dogs and the two are very different species, I know, but I miss my dog. Cookie is more like a cat than a dog. She is loving, yes. When I'm in Delhi, she can't get enough of me and rests her head with deep sighs on my knee. When my mother calls, sometimes she puts Cookie on the phone and I say, "Hey Cookie! Who'sa good girl? Who?" and she closes her eyes and licks the reciever. But I bet if our house in Delhi ever got robbed, Cookie would be the one either under the dining table or going, "You can have them all! Just don't hurt me!"

Bobo, now. Bobo was a dog. He oozed essence of dogginess from his every pore. Bobo was part Alsatian (full Alsatian, the pet shop assured us, but he seemed more like a Dobermann-Alsatian cross to me). He was named by my mother, for Boris Becker-which should be more BoBE than BoBO, but hey. He was an adorable puppy and an adolescent dog with behaviour issues. MAJOR behaviour issues. And we weren't the best puppy owners in the world either. My parents have this whole live and let live thing when it comes to rearing anything--including me--and that's something I've inherited. I figure discipline can come, everything can come as long as the thing being raised realises it's loved. Bobo understood he was loved all right. He also understood that his humans were inconsistent with their punishments and in a large house, it was easy for an active puppy to get into mischief.

We packed him off to obedience school once--the kindest decision, my parents felt. I opposed it as violently as an eight year old could, but when Bobo returned, he could sit and speak and do all sorts of things. Well, for like five whole minutes. Then he was back to being himself, tongue out, wide smile, head lopsided. I lived in Trivandrum then, which I've written about before--a huge house on top of a valley, no other kids nearby and lots of walks. Bobo and I walked all over that hillside--well, he took off and fathered many children--but I had Enid Blyton ideals about my dos and whistled to him as I set out. Sometimes, he'd respond and come bounding after me, but most times he was wrapped up in mating with every bitch that waggled her bottom at him.

He loved me though. He was a loving dog. My mother would hold him by the leash and I'd hide and she'd say, "Bobo, where's eM? Go find eM!" and he'd always find me. When we moved back to Delhi, I gave him to my grandfather, who also took him on long walks and was firm with him and gave him attention when he needed some--in fact, probably a much better pet owner than we were--and Bobo was devoted to him. He'd even leave off chatting up some brindle mongrel to go running whenever my grandfather called. Once Bobo died (of snake bite) I considered getting my grandfather another dog, but he's older, the farm is smaller and I don't think he has the energy for a puppy.

Plus, I think like human beings, some animals are just meant to be with some people. Bobo was meant to be with my grandfather, he was, TC is meant to be with me, he is the pet I feel perhaps the most strongly about, and I've had many many pets. Someday, I'll find my dog, my soulmate dog, my dog that will come running when I call it and will be the one I train and everything. TC is going to have to live with it, sadly, a fact that I don't think he's quite aware of just yet.

Does it still count as a midnight snack if it's one a.m?

Full speed ahead and turbo charged engines this week, totally. For one thing, ta-rah, ta-rah, the teaching has been happening in full force. It's been, well... interesting. The kids are sweet but a handful and by the time I get out, I am so dying for a cigarette that I feel like my entire body is up and rebelling against me. Also, by the time I get out and drive home, I am so, so tired, that it's been bedtime for me by twelve or one these days. Sometimes even *gasp* before midnight. Sigh. What has happened to me?

Although, y'know, I'm really kinda liking all this routine and challenge. I find it hard to walk past a group of kids without looking for traces of "my own". I think about them, how to make their learning more interesting, more fun, but also, most importantly, how to get them to sit still and listen to me. Adults are a lot easier, trust me, than a room full of excited, restless kids who want nothing more than to be far, far away from you and outside playing.

We've also been very domestic lately. Lalli cooked and Yamini made salad and things and I contributed with the most awesome rice in the world. (Okay, so it was just rice, but hey, rice can be hard too!) And we had a dinner party. It was very grown up, except we spread it out on the floor on a cloth and it felt more like a picnic than a dinner party, but considering I serve chips at most of my dos, I felt very adult and very oh-look-at-me-all-grown-up-in-my-apartment.

Ooh and along the way, I have acquired a Generous Benefactor. Well, a Benefactress in this case. JC has a friend who is very kind and also does a lot of shopping and also has some things she didn't want. Some BRAND NEW things, I might add. Some brand new DESIGNER things. We're talking Ritu Kumar, Gauri and Nayanika and Mango here. One night we were at her house and no kidding, I came home with a shopping bag full of stuff. And then more on another trip. Not to mention the most delectable Aldo shoes--faux crocodile skin, fuck-off heels, which make my legs--my skinny little matchstick legs--look beautiful and long. I'm so happy. May she go to a heaven with medium rare steak, cosmopolitans and Jimmy Choos.

Also, we have tentative news on the book. It looks like mid-August so far, for all the launches. Most likely, the Bombay launch will be first, but I'm also going to be doing Delhi and a third city which hasn't been confirmed yet. I'm SUPER excited, I practically cannot wait. If I could go to sleep for like two months and only wake up in August I'd be very happy.

It's also nice that everyone I know has been busy the same time so there are no long lingering complaints about not enough time being spent with anyone. I caught up with Deepti the other day after FOREVER which was great, BB and I do din-din sometime this week, Ira has been mostly around, Sameer I've been seeing a lot more of than I had in the recent past which is very nice. The people I have not mentioned are the people who have VANISHED. You know who you are, call me!

Also a major development, those three little words, which feel like three BIG MOTHERFUCKING WORDS were whispered shyly the other day at the Amitav Ghosh book launch. The last two times I used them, I was met with a) "Oh." and b) a vaguely sympathetic smile. So it took quite some amount of balls on my part. And even now I feel apprehensive. Is it too early? Have I said too much? What is love anyway? Aargh. Sometimes I think I was just made to be single forever. (This is why I blog. No one else will listen to me obsess.)

But, I feel again the need to flee the city. Maybe not alone, but a fleeing must happen soon, nonetheless. This is the problem with many things (travelling, sex, smoking) once you've done it recently, you can't go without it for very long.

Anyhoo. Off I go to put toothpaste on my face. (Best. Zit. Cure. Ever.) I did Vie Lounge tonight (tried to get tickets to Persepolis but it was house full, something which shocked me. Since when does Bombay go watch Cannes award winning, non Pixar animated movies? Hmph.) and then Lalli, a friend of hers and I walked down the beach with just the hints of a storm in the air. And it is 12.43 and with all the contentment of a day well spent I will toddle off to bed. One wonders though, now that one is all lalalalala pretty fairies whether one's blog will become totally boring? Hmmmmm.

Life Lessons 101: We attempt "being ourselves"

Being in a brand new relationship (three weeks yesterday!) is wonderful for the most part, but it also has its pitfalls. When you've been single as long as I've been single, there are certain things about your dating life and your dating vocabulary that have just become part of your mindset. There are certain Single Girl cues that you take without being very aware that you're taking them. Like letting out sardonic laughter with your girlfriends about some ruinous man in some ruinous situation. Fantastic. But with your boyfriend around, perhaps not quite the impression you want to make.

I've been single-ish for close to four years now, and I don't regret a moment of it. Oh, sure, there were some drunken mistakes, some "I really don't know what I was thinking" moments, but I always have justified them as being part of "character development" and "helping me to grow" and all the other The Girl Who Sold Her Manolos jazz. But this morning I was lying in bed, watching smoke tendrils drift to the ceiling and wondering, "Just how much information is too much information?" (It was also a very SATC moment, and I'm having a bit of a SATC revival, having watched the movie earlier (TERRIBLE) and then, yesterday, making JC and Yamini's boyfriend sit and watch Season One, just so they could see what the fuss was about. Both boys loved it. Hmmm, I think I'LL rewatch season one tonight with some daal-chaawal.)

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I have friends who have had a crazy wild past as well, and I have friends who don't really have very much of a past at all, and what these friends have in common is not sharing either of their pasts with the person in their present. "I just want him to get to know me better before he judges me," said a friend to me, the other day. I, of course, took the opposing point of view, ie, how can someone know you without knowing everything that went into making you who you are today? So, that weekend soujourn with a married man? It should be shared so a) there aren't any unhappy discoveries later and b) the worst stuff is already out there so everything you say post that just makes you awesome. (Hypothetical situation, by the way, for all my concerned readers.)

On the other hand, there are moments like I've had last night where Old Acquaintance came up to us and said, "Hey, eM, how's it going?" "Oh good," I said, "You know, same ol', same ol'." "Another day, another dude, eh?" he said, at which I smiled and said through gritted teeth, "This is my boyfriend, JC, Old Acquaintance, Old A., JC." "Hey!" said Old A. (where the 'a' is now standing for many other things in my head) "You lasted a week! Good for you." Now Old A was being a bit of a retard and doing the whole "I'm so weary in this city of single people and I sense you are weary too" banter. The sort of banter I've done in the past. But the point is, I really, really did not want my person to be listening to this aspect of my life. I have been honest with him, and hey, he does read this blog, so he kinda knows my Deep Dark Deeds anyway, but there are times when I wish I hadn't said anything. That I had remained coolly mysterious, and eyelash lowered and demure. Well, perhaps not demure, but enigmatic. Sexy. How can someone who is aware of my *ahem* relations with people we now meet and air-kiss at bars still think I'm all that?

On the other hand, I still feel slightly defiant about the whole thing. Chin up, body language taut, every posture screams, "I'm not done, there's more, I've done a whole bunch of shit, you still wanna stick around, punk?" (And, heh, I admit, sitting there sometimes going macho-ly in my head, "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!") But what I had failed to factor in was "selective truth telling." The kind other women do so well. I should have waited till he was a complete eM-addict before springing it on him. (Well, perhaps not, because I have this ol' blog but still.)

But you want to know the awesome thing? He's still around. And he hasn't shown any indications of leaving. I feel like Maria in The Sound Of Music.

Perhaps I had a wicked childhood, perhaps I had a miserable youth

But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, there must have been a moment of truth

For here you are standing there loving me, whether or not you should

So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good

Nothing comes from nothing, nothing ever could

So somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.

Fingers crossed!

The perfect prelude to going and watching Sex And The City tonight

I've made quite a few new friends recently. GIRL friends. I don't know whether you realise how important that is, but until very recently I had all of four women to hang out with. And since all those women knew their own sets of boys and I know mostly boys it just became like we were given metaphorical penises. No, seriously.

Girls are great. Having girl friends is awesome. Having girl friends means having someone to talk about your FEELINGS with, over and over again, obsessing wildly while they obsess with you and then you obsess with them. Girl friends giggle at the right places, and they have your back (mostly) and they know to call you the next day for a detailed post mortem and they hug and you don't have to shield any part of your body (my boys are great but such BOY boys that it's hard to forget sometimes). And they tell you if there's going to be a wardrobe malfunction and you know you look good if they say you look good.

Anyway, I was thinking the other day about girl crushes. I don't mean like sexual crushes. I mean just the whole, "Oh we have to hang out!" and "Oh, my new friend so-and-so said that movie was great!" It's mentionitis to the core, it's wanting to hang out with them all the time, it's even drunk texting to give status updates on where you are and what you're doing. Girl crushes are heady, pure things. Guys do Man Crushes as well--"Oh we have to get together and play soccer!" and "Oh do you think he'll call? He's got to call, I got him that new DVD we talked about!" Same-sex straight crushes are at once the most charming and most amusing things I've ever seen.

Have I had girl crushes? Oh many times. In fact, I think most of my female friends today are a result of these encounters. I cannot get ENOUGH of them in our beginning stages of flirting, I can't ask them to go shopping too many times, I can't stop texting and I can't stop blurting out details of my life that would probably make even close friends from before raise an eyebrow. But the great thing about girl crushes is that they never raise an eyebrow. They say, "I know!" and "Me too!" and you love them in that moment, both of your eyes sparkling and you love them when both of you turn to boys you're flirting with and there is a hidden gleam passing between the two of you which no one can penetrate.

Does this sound sexual? It does a bit, doesn't it, now that I'm writing it down? But it's nooooot, it's so not and that's what makes it beautiful. It's like being a kid again and wanting to know the shape and texture of your cousin's bellybutton and feeling the powdery softness of butterfly wings against your fingertips and drinking water so cold it hurts the back of your throat and the inside of your brains. It's all those undefinable, uncategorised feelings and it's about hip bumping as you sashay down the street and sharing cigarettes and each of you looking at the other and knowing you are young and beautiul together.

I'm too tired to do anything but bullet point updates these days

* Multitasking, thy name is eM: I am determined I can write, teach, party and date all in the same day. Okay, fine, maybe the same week. But still, I want to continue the way I always have, with a few extras thrown in. Is that so hard? YES, says the universe, rumblingly, and makes the weather hot, hot, hot, pressure cooker steamed sweat as soon as you turn off the AC and by the time a train journey is made during rush hour from the burbs to town, I'm ready to go back to sleep. But still, I need to do this to prove to people everywhere that you can, in fact, do everything. Oh, and somewhere in there I'm going to join a gym. Wish me luck.

* Did we say "dating"? Yes, I think we did: So, in the last week, one has been a busy little creature. One has also started to date someone--JC (you're ALWAYS going to be JC on this blog, it was inevitable, sorry) to be exact, the boy I went out with last Saturday. We've been getting to know each other and stuff and things are going rather well. (touch wood quickly) We haven't got sick of each other yet, which is also excellent and you know, the friends like us, we like us and so us it's going to be. (I love using the word 'boyfriend' though, although it fills me with a mixture of excitement and fear. I haven't used it out loud yet, just a few experimental test runs inside my head.)

* If I were a rich girl: I'd be a lot better off than I am now, that's for sure. Anyone looking to hire a writer? I write everything! And at reasonable rates! But, no, all this dating and socialising and the excitement of being back in Bombay after ages and going to a training convention in town which meant that I had to eat lunch out every day means I'm kinda broke right now. Well, not BROKE broke, but it's time to start counting those rupees.

Oh, it's good to be home, and it's good to be happy on a Sunday and it's good to be alive even if you are tired. I went and saw Prince Caspian today with Ira and JC and it was a very well done movie. I'm a big Narnia fan, I've read all the books--but I hadn't ever read Prince Caspian. The boy playing Peter is a hottie, even if he is very young. We had the third row from the screen though, and that, plus the fact that most of the movie was shot in the dark means that my eyes were like stinging by the end of it. I love battle scenes though with the smaller army winning and all the "THIS IS SPPPPPPPPPARTTTTTAAAAAAA!" of it all.

Tonight, we dine.............. in hell!






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