Moving on

(As promised, one of the many columns I write. This one is from the Mumbai Mirror--well, it USED to appear in the Mirror anyway, then they downsized and it got cut. Sigh. I thought it was appropriate, because in the next month or so, gentle readers, I am going to be taking the next big step and moving in with JC. Yup, we're going to be co-signing a lease and everything. We do practically live together anyway, when he is in town, so it's not THAT much of a leap, but I'm really looking forward to it.)

The problem these days, why so many, many people are single, is that no one takes relationships seriously anymore. I think popular media is to blame for this, the other day I saw a fun rom-com flick called What Happens In Vegas where two people get married when they’re drunk (duh) and then want to get divorced (duh) but (plot point!) they collectively win 3 million dollars on a slot machine and so have to stay married for six months in order to collect the money as ordered by a marriage minded judge. Of course, they begin by hating each other and then fall in love and blah blah blah and the entire movie is a pretty good showcase of how you should totally get shit faced and marry someone you just met even if you have nothing in common.

I know someone, in fact, I know many someones who believe in the fact that marriage doesn’t have to last forever. That if you don’t like it, you can leave. To which I’m all “Whaaaaaaaaat?” Really? I’m not advocating marriage here, far from it, but I believe that if you get into a commitment you should pretty much be prepared to stay in it forever. Divorce has made bad marriages too easy. And not the other way round.

Anyway, so the other day, I was thinking of the vast number of people I know preparing to move in together. Like couples. Isn’t this a big deal? Did I miss the memo that makes this about as casual as anything else? I shy away from Next Big Steps, they make me nervous, they make me wary of doing something I might not want to do and then, oh dear, nothing ever remains the same after that. Living with someone suggests to me a quasi-marriage, where you buy groceries together and entertain together and have cats. (Okay, so I already have a cat, but still.) While the whole thing is thrillingly domestic and as much fun as playing ‘House-House’ used to be, surely, like a marriage, it wears off?

Don’t get me wrong though. I would personally have to live with someone before I married them. It’s a nice, little test run to prove to yourself that you can in fact put up with someone even if you have to keep picking up their dirty underwear, or you’re okay with them seeing you first thing in the morning with dragon breath and Diana Ross hair. But somewhere along the line, I know I’ll be thinking that this should end in marriage. In a proper legal commitment. I will be doing my damndest to get my live-in relationship to work, and I’m not going to regard it as cavalierly as people around me seem to be doing.

There is a thrill to domesticity though, especially illicit domesticity. I guess it’s the whole forbidden fruit thing. We’d never have the social sanction of an actual married couple, but we’re still buying mangoes and getting the maid to dust the TV and having friends over for brunch. It’s just that we don’t have rings on our fingers, that it might have to be hidden from various extended family members and possibly, from the neighbours or the landlord. But there would still be a double bed and holidays planned together. I can’t blame people for wanting to do this ‘test run’ marriage when every word I write tempts me more and more to go out and do it myself.

But, I stand steadfastly on this. It is not casual anymore. It should last forever. Sharing a space with someone should be regarded as sacred as signing a piece of paper declaring you Mr and Mrs. I know that even my relationships with my flatmates has been sealed with this sort of sanctity. We have a good relationship, my housemates and I, because we know the code. In short, we know how to make a good live-in relationship work. Okay, yes, it is different because we have separate bedrooms and mostly, separate lives. But when someone sees you at your worst (which is more important than seeing you at your best) and still wants to go on living with you, then you have to respect that in them. My flatmates know what snacks to order for the house for instance, the ones that I love, I know how they like their coffee. When we cook, we cook for everyone. When we have our significant others over, we respect their space as well. And we think twice (and ask permission!) before we invite someone over that the others don’t like. Maybe it sounds a little anal to you. But (touch wood) so far, I’ve had excellent luck with my roomies.

Perhaps I should draft a Live-In Relationship Agreement for all the people out there contemplating it so nonchalantly. It would have Rules and Agendas. Love is important, yes, without some modicum of love you will get bored very easily, but this Agreement will have things like Space Time (no, not astronauts, just alone time for each person) and Veto Rules (where each of you has the right to veto three people from entering your home) and naturally, other mundane things like budgets and who changes the cat litter (or walks the dog) and Collective Purchases. There will also be a clause, much like the judge ruled in What Happens In Vegas, that you have to stick it out for a year, legally, or risk getting sued. It makes it tougher and it makes it easier for indecisive people like me, because everything will be right there. Yeah, I think I’m totally going to do that.

eM’s quick guide to being fabulous even with a recession on*

* even though the word ‘ recession’ is now being used as this fail-safe excuse for everything. I can’t pay you more money—there’s a recession! I can’t go out tonight—there’s a recession! I wish I loved you more, but what can I do, there’s a recession. (okay, I made the last one up, but it’s possible.)
Other eM’s quick guides here, here and here.
1) Dress cheaply but wear your clothes like they’re all designer labels. I’m serious. I went rummaging about on Hill Road and bought two dresses—cotton, one a simple box neckline, A-line fit (SO tight I have to sit up straight and not breathe in too deeply) and the other an ethnic print, strappy, low cut thing (beautiful and comfortable and soft and I want to wear it forever). I accesorised with nice shoes and some junk jewellery and, nope, no one could tell the difference. (And no one will, unless you tell them, which I always make the mistake of doing. (“Lovely outfit, eM!” “Oh thank you, I got this for a 100 rupees off Hill Road.”) Anyhoo, this way, you can go shopping whenever it pleases you and you have some nice outfits and you won’t feel so bad if they only last a few wears. The secret to this though is not to buy anything that looks like it’s been an export surplus thing. Avoid lycra or floral prints, avoid the top that you see hanging on almost every single shop, and only buy something you can see yourself spending REAL money on in a REAL shop.
2) Suss out all the openings and events in the city. At an art gallery opening, you’re bound to get a free glass of wine. Check out Facebook events, there’s usually something or the other on. You could also join a few Mumbai even mailing lists—I’m sure they’re out there—for up to date news on what’s going on where. For instance, the GQ thing I went to last week was open bar till 11 pm and was also open entry. Look like you belong (boys, wear shoes!) and nine times out of ten, no one’s going to ask for your invitation.
3) Almost every single bar has some sort of special night. Off the top of my head, ladies night happens at Zenzi on Tuesdays (one free glass of wine), Firangi Paani on Wednesdays (happy hours for girls between 8 pm to 10 pm), and Rock Bottom on Thursdays (All you can drink—all night long. Except water, you have to pay for that.) TGIF has happy hours till about 7.30, Janta is always cheap for pre-drinking, Banana Bar has loads of buy-one-get-one-free nights, all you have to do is keep track, and then you can whisk off to your next (more expensive) destination and be happy not drinking or just nursing one thing for the whole evening.
4) Bring back the fine art of the house party. I threw an EXCELLENT one last weekend, even if I do say so myself. A friend was leaving, a friend has just moved to Bombay and we had people all over the place. I told everyone to bring their own booze and I have loads of leftovers now. Plus, I think it might’ve been the seal-breaker on other parties, because I now have three to go for this weekend. And even if the ones you’re invited to are bring your own booze type, it’s still cheaper to get a bottle of White Mischief or even Smirnoff, than it is to have an equivalent night out.
5) Rediscover the ‘hobby’. FYI, the guy outside Toto’s? The DVD chap? Has some really, really good prints and pretty cheap too. I bought a whole bunch last week—boom, my week’s entertainment taken care of. If I could cook, I would be, right now. I’m spending more time writing and chilling than I ever have before, okay, so it’s out of necessity and not choice, but it’s getting easier to get used to.
Well, that’s all I can think of for the moment. Add your own money-saver fabulosity suggestions in the comments.
Ooh, and I almost forgot! This is my first post from my brand new laptop! It’s so pretty and shiny and wide-screened. I love him, I do, and his name is Holden. (As in ‘Holden’ all my information and Caulfield. I’m nerdy like that.)

Zig a zig ah

SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT (scroll down for the rest of the post)

There are many things I love about being friends with someone for almost my entire life. I like that we know all of each others back stories, I like that we have a sort of conversational shorthand, I like most of all that we are fully supportive of each other's choices. It's also awesome when your bestie has devoted her occupation to something that is close to your heart. MY best friend Nayantara (formerly Leela on this blog, now outed) is a shoe designer. A very talented shoe designer. She recently debuted with Ritu Kumar at the Fashion Week in Delhi and will be launching Taramay, her own line, sometime in April. (The perfect red shoes above are her creation and a pair that I deeply covet.) I love talking about work with her, because it involves me trying on shoes. Like, wow.

Anyway, she asked if I'd put the word out, and I was happy to do it, not JUST because I love her, but also because I really, really love her shoes. They're stylish, comfortable and fit my giant feet, making them look feminine and delicate. Anyhoo, just thought I'd put a shout-out here, she will be in a few stores with her spring/summer line (one of which is the one shown here) come April, and you must go look. And buy lots. And then maybe I'll be able to convince her to make a new line called "The eM." I'll put more details on where she will be retailing once I know. Just call me the Shoe Ambassador.

* I decided to get more freelance work, you know, a girl's gotta eat and all that and seriously my bank balance is so abyssmal right now, I feel shy even going out knowing that I can't afford anything. A.N.Y.T.H.I.N.G. But then I was an enterprising little Girl Guide and made some calls, did some begging of the universe and work came my way. Only its editing work, which should be easy peasy, but it's LOTS of it and in spreadsheets and I've been staring at it for so long, my eyes are now ready to come out of their sockets. Still, not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to get work. I'm pottering around the house doing my Tevye impression.



* A computer was decided on and purchased and I want to thank all of you for being such a huge help. I went with the majority vote and got myself a Dell, and I picked what kind of Dell with the advice of the forever helpful Mr Crowley. I'm getting the Inspiron 1525, jacked up a little, so 4 GB RAM and 320 hard drive so it'll be as fast as it can be. Now I just wait for it to be delivered. The waiting is the hardest part!



* I had the most random night yesterday. I was invited to this fashion show at the Four Seasons and you know, since I'm so broke, I decided to go for the free drinks. STRIKE ONE: There was only beer! Duuuuuudes. STRIKE TWO: After getting crankier and crankier drinking my (alcohol free) orange juice/Coke the show started two and a half hours late. STRIKE THREE: Dear god, it was the WORST thing I had ever seen. Where do I begin? The model who dd a great white stork impersonation as she lifted each leg up at the hip and placed it down five yards later? The MC who was--seriously--someone I would have happily shot, and then shot again about five times just to make sure she was dead.



(Conversation between MC and random Australian designer:

MC: *giggle, giggle* Sooooo tall me, are you going to have any of your clothes, like, inspired by India?



Random Australian Designer (RAD): Uh, I dunno, it's, um, top secret now (okay, so he didn't say that but he IMPLIED it, so there)



MC: Ooh, but like the Taj Mahal and like beggars and things?



I'm not kidding. There was a collective gasp (or okay, it might've just been me) and a friend of mine across the ramp who I spotted had her jaw down to her collarbone as well. The Taj Mahal and beggars. Quite the same thing, apparently.)

Besides this asinine conversation, she bugged me because a) she had one of those really annoying accents: America meets Ludhiana or something and b) because I kept sitting there, no money to my name except for taxi fare going, "Duuuuuude. Why does she get to be an MC and I don't?" I'd totally do it. And according to the random guy who gave me a missed call and then denied it when I called him back and THEN sent me a shady message later going: "Hi, dun know u but u have gud voice quality." (Yeah, the world is full of creeps. I take satisfaction in knowing that he would have sent that message even if I was a 50 year old mother of three) I have a good voice quality said Random Creepy Guy. See? I even come with recommendations!

* Although I'm all about The Secret type visualisations lately. I spend my mornings pottering about and asking for various things. I WILL get work! I WILL get an invitation to a fun party! JC WILL come back within the next month! And, it's magic the way it's working. You guys should try it, it's all about positive thinking. I actually have been getting more work since I started and JC is coming home soon. (touches wood quickly)

* Also went to the GQ bar night at Olive yesterday. That's the Olive at the racecourse, which meant the posh surroundings and people smelling of Isseymiyaki and Chanel and whatnot were sort of shadowed by the unmistakable pong of horse dung. I personally like the smell of horses, so I wasn't too bothered, but it can't be too appetising when you're trying to eat. Note to self: only eat at the Bandra Olive. I rubbed shoulders with many of these posh (and very tall! who ARE all these tall people?) folks in my 100 rupee Sarojini Nagar dress, which had a minor accident early in the evening and lost a strap. I had to tie the remainder of the strap to my bra (luckily the same colour) and wear my hair down the whole evening--and it was really hot. Still, I felt a distinct pleasure at being able to do that and get away with it and no one being the wiser. Plus it was open bar till about 11.30 so I was a happy camper, finally freed of my alcohol free beverages. (Oh I can just see my "Stop drinking now" adsense showing up at the side of this post!)

* Today, for the first time ever, in between peering at Excel sheets, I washed my car. My car cleaning boy was a twit, no really, didn't show up the entire time I was away, showed up and asked for the day off and some cash, showed up one week later and said he had to go for his sister's wedding and then never came back. So my car, as a result was really dirty and after days of cringing each time I passed it, I decided to clean it myself. And I'm really glad I did. I get the whole "cleaning is therapeutic" thing, my more house-proud friends have been trying to tell me for a while. It was nice just making something dirty a little less dirty. (Okay, I'm not Superwoman, it's not one hundred per cent clean yet, give me some time)

* And one last thing I promised myself I'd blog about. Best pick up line EVER, as told by Chrisann: She's in a mall, at the bookshop, boys have been following her. One approaches, says, "Excuse me, my name is ____, you must be, wait, don't tell me, stunning." Tee hee. It made me giggle for ages after she told me.

And sometimes it's like I never left at all

What better way to celebrate the eve of Women's Day than with a crippling hangover, eh? Although I'm really not sure why it IS so crippling. I had maybe four drinks, and back in the day, you know, when my metabolism still was set to super high and I could go a couple of nights with no sleep, I never had hangovers. And now? I might be ID'd at bars (once more on Thursday) but clearly, my system feels all of its almost-thirty years.

Since I've been back in Bombay, I have found myself uncontrolably drawn into the sort of social whirl that even Paris Hilton might balk at. I've been out every single night since my return, not even pausing for jet lag (which finally kicked in on Wednesday causing me to sleep till almost four pm). The consequence for all this drinking has been a) a very, very quiet Saturday evening spent at home watching Splitsvilla on MTV and b) an upset stomach (one more thing age does to you). I am briefly comforted by the fact that I have a "brunch" to go to tomorrow, where assuredly, most of the contributions shall be liquid. My own addition to the potluck are my very famous (well, to me) Bloody Marys, that I do to perfection. (Stomach just rolled over at the thought of that. Oh well. Make mine virgin.)

Soooo, the party last night was a little odd. I mean, it was nice and all. The house in particular was lovely, a split level apartment, balconies everywhere, great view, entertainment etc. But since I didn't know anyone (I went to keep a friend company) I was free to observe to my heart's content the lifestyles of the rich and famous. And everyone struck me, under their shiny, happy demeanours, to be a little unhappy. Maybe I'm just projecting, maybe it was the violently pink drink I was given, but I dunno. At the end of the day, I was quite happy with my own small flat and my own less than rich and famous lifestyle. It all seemed very big and lonely, if you know what I mean.

Oh em gee, the Global Fusion buffet lunch? HOW have I been missing it all this while? It's all you can eat SUSHI and then other stuff, but still SUSHI, which I have been craving and can only afford the cheap Candies version of, this lunch is Rs 475 (for girls, which okay, is blatant gender discrimination but since it's skewed in my favour, I accept it) and is ALL YOU CAN EAT. Plus coke-shoke and dessert. (It's above Croma, opposite KFC, off Linking Road). My friends were having a sushi eating contest, but I was content to go back and reload till my eyes drooped and I had to unbutton my jeans. And it's really good sushi too.

I need a new laptop. This one is driving me insane. For one thing, the battery's given out, so I can only use it when it's plugged in. For another, it keeps hanging and Ctrl + Alt + Del doesn't work anymore, so I have to shut it down with the power button, which cannot be good for it in the long run. Andddddd, it's really slow. Suggestions on which one to get? Here are the specs I need: a nice large screen, so I can watch stuff on it, good battery life, lots of memory, and light enough for me to carry places, which I do frequently. Also not too expensive, so don't bother suggesting the Macbook, which is pretty, but not worth it for someone who just uses the computer to write and surf the internet. Some friends say Dell, some say HP, some say Toshiba and now I'm all confused. Also, if you know of any place in Bombay that does exchange deals, so I can swap my old one for a new one and which does EMIs, that would be great. Internet, I depend upon you.

I've been a Twitter user for a while, but since I'm not blogging with the same frequency I used to, Twitter is now my fallback. I JUST discovered how to send Tweets with my cellphone and now I feel like I can say stuff constantly. Plus, I'm getting used to the character limit thing, so I now sound, well, a little smart as opposed to long winded and rambly.

Oooh, and I saw Orhan Pamuk the other day! When I say I saw him, I mean, I went to his reading at the British Council, but it was so full that I was stuck outside, watching him on a screen. Although he did pass all us screen watchers and give us a little nod, which is kinda like seeing him read in person. No?

Exciting times but next week, no, TOMORROW, I shall get down to real time serious work on all the writing projects I have pending. I've been procrastinating and procrastinating and now the little part of me that needs to hibernate and write is making itself known quite clearly. Creativity is once more beginning to bubble, which is awesome, because for the longest time I had this terrible writer's block. Unblocked now, with some mental Pudin Hara and I am all determination.