In with the new

As an early birthday present, the ‘rents got me a brand new camera. You remember I was considering getting the Canon G11, an advanced point and shoot, which looked and felt pretty damn awesome. Sadly, the price? Not so awesome. Close to Rs 30,000, and only down to Rs 26,000 in most places that offered a discount. Still, I thought this was the camera for me, and on Monday, my mother and I strolled down to Palika Bazaar to buy it. But, the funny thing is, even though it was this super spendy camera, the shop owners (brilliant guys, work with most journos, look for shop number 167 in Palika) seemed to think I’d be better off with an entry level DSLR. My mother pointed out that the G11 would be somewhat of a full stop in terms of growing as a photographer, and eventually, I might like to upgrade to a “proper” camera. All signs pointed to the Canon 1000D, much cheaper, and with about the same features as the G11, except that when I grow out of the kit lens, I can upgrade. It was a good idea, so I decided to go for it. And it’s light, which was one of my requirements. I LOVE IT. It’s beautiful and makes even random pictures look like art, and I’m very happy with the purchase and have spent all day reading the manual so that I’m better equipped.

Luckily, the very next day, I was due to take Apple and her parents around Delhi, so I thought it would be a good chance to do some experimenting. You know, October heat, nice lighting, monuments, perfect photo day.

 

Things didn’t go quite as planned though. Here’s what happened. We got the only taxi driver in all of Delhi without a cellphone, so we’d have to go look for him, instead of him just dropping us off. So, we decided to give him Apple’s spare cell, except she forgot that she had set a call redirect from that phone to her other number. Yeaaaaaaaaaah.

 

 

It was a particularly warm day, and by the time we were done, all sweaty and in need of a cold drink, I told her to call the guy so he’d be waiting for us outside. Which is when she figured it out. Uh oh. It would have been fine if it was just a taxi, there are LOADS of taxis, but all their stuff was in the car, AND they had to catch a 5.30 train to Agra.

 

We tried turning off the phone. No luck. Call barring. No luck. Finally, we decided to go walk along the parking lots to see if we could find him.

 

Do you know how many parking lots are around the Red Fort area? About forty gajillion. And there we were, sweat pouring down our foreheads trying to find a white Indica. Do you feel sorry for us yet? There’s more. Sometime in the last two days, I’ve done something to my back. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but it hurts to turn my head. Like, really hurts. Also, my period decided this would be a good time to come out and play.

 

 

Finally I called my mum, who said she’d call the taxi stand dudes and figure something out. In the meanwhile, I took them for lunch at Karim’s in Jama Masjid, which was, as always, awesome.

 

No luck after lunch either. We decided to offer a reward to whoever spotted the car and brought it to us. By now it’s about 2 pm. I’m seeing visions of us settling down at the Red Fort FOREVER. Apple and her father went to look some more, while I sat my aching body down on a wall and waited with her mother. We asked the cops to look. We asked little beggar girls to look. The WHOLE WORLD was looking for our taxi and no one could find him. In the meanwhile, I counted fifteen people who came up to me and said, “Why don’t you just call his cell?” THANKS. I WOULD HAVE NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT!

 

By now it’s about 3.45. I’m starting to recommend that they get an overnight hotel and miss their train. The taxi stand is pretty close to my house and I figure he’ll go home eventually. The second taxi driver (sent by the owner of the stand) is driving around looking for him. People keep tossing us looks of sympathy. We had new friends!

 

And then! Like a glorious, last minute knight in shining armour, the second taxi dude found the first one! My mother called with the happy news, Apple and I skipped merrily along to give her parents the good news. The arrival of the car was heralded by all our new friends. Men waved at us from across the street, “Your car is here!” women stopped feeding their babies and looked at us with shining eyes. The crowd around us thickened. The little beggar girl ran up to us and said, “Madam! Your car is coming!” We were part of a family, a Movement.

 

I have never spent so much time outside the Red Fort. I have never been so warm and uncomfortable. But we laughed, they got to their train on time, and that was my Tuesday adventure with the new camera. I certainly hope it doesn’t continue to make my life quite so exciting.

I’m channelling Cher and Coldplay

*I don’t know what it is about certain people that make you regress about ten or twenty years. I had a friend visiting this last week, and I swear, I felt nineteen all over again. I don’t know—have you ever been part of a group for so long that once you reassemble from different parts of the country all of you wind up playing the same roles you did back when you were eighteen? It’s all very loving, but also at the same time, somewhere at the back of your head, your adult self keeps going, “DUDE. I’M STILL BACK HERE.” Weird.

 

*I never know how much to reveal or not reveal on Facebook. There are some (annoying) people on my news feed who are all about the Heartbreak! and the Drama! and Angsty Song Lyrics! But for me, I just keep thinking of all the randoms that I’ve added over the years (and everyone has a certain amount of randoms) and thinking of their reaction to my weepy updates, that I usually press the backspace button and get rid of everything, resorting instead to either a) song lyrics that mean nothing unless you know the whole song or b) something funny. I can do funny. Funny is my friend.

 

*So you know how every time you break up with someone you change your hair? Or is that just me? My hair at the moment looks terrible, unless it’s in a very stern bun. I even did a doodle of it to show you:

So now, I’m thinking of having it rebonded. Now I know rebonding is terrible etc etc, but oh, I’ve been wanting this my whole life. I have (as someone said to me the other day) “virgin hair” and I would really like to be that girl with straight hair, even if it is fleeting.

 

* I’m off again to Delhi soon, to go to the Jodhpur music festival and to generally lick my wounds in the lovely October weather. When I return, SOMEONE will be leaving my flat, either me or JC, because really, this is ridiculous. I need to start househunting soon, although I’m afraid with my paltry budget, it’s going to be kind of hard to find the space I’m looking for (a SEPARATE bedroom from the hall, lots of light, a decent neighbourhood and preferably: affordable enough for just me and TC, no roommates). Still no harm in looking, right?

 

*Last week I was very fancy and went to the Busaba 9th anniversary party. Busaba is a place I used to go to a lot, and then I sort of forgot it existed, and last Thursday I was all “Oh, hello again!” It was full of shiny people, and I chugged my weight in wine and danced even though the balls of my feet were complaining at me, and it was all very awesome. You couldn’t tell by looking at me how broke I was, and the stuff was on the house anyway. I should really go back to Busaba on a regular night, I forgot how much I liked it—shiny people and all.

 

*Actually, there’s just something about South Bombay I like. I like to joke that I didn’t move to Bombay, I moved to Bandra, but while Bandra is AWESOME, South Bombay has a certain.. something. I like the buildings, I like the feeling in the air of being in a large city (because really, if you think about it, Bandra is like a village.) I like the options. There are some things South Bombay does not have: notably alcohol delivered to your doorstep at 3 am, but still, it’s attractive. It’s a bit too late for me to move out of Bandra (my friends are here, I work from home, so hard to make new friends outside parties, and people in the South are a little more.. elitist.) but I like to think of the what-may-have-beens.

Time goes by, so slowly, so slowly

I’m broke AND broken hearted. Yes, it’s true, October, usually my favourite month of the year is now turning into the shittiest. The broke thing is pretty easy to explain, spending lots of money in great excitement when I had it, and now having no big cheques winging their way to me (I don’t think). But it’s like explorers, right? There’s always one brief moment when you ration out your remaining goods and wait (with a hurricane lamp) for the plane to come in bringing you new supplies. I’m just waiting for the plane.

 

Broken hearted, now that is a different story altogether. Now, you remember I had said that JC and I were going to try and figure things out? So, he came back to India, and we began to cohabit again, except, I don’t know, maybe it was that I was still so ANGRY with him (I didn’t realise I was still upset until much later) that we kept having fights. Not helped by the fact that we still didn’t know if our relationship was going anywhere.

 

Then, somewhere along the line, the tide began to turn. Suddenly, we were sweeter to each other than ever before, affectionate and loving, and tiptoeing around the elephant in the room (we became friends, I called him Toby and fed him peanuts.) And, long time readers will know how much I love my little bubble of denial. I think if they sold denial as a drug, I’d be snorting that shit. That’s how much I love it. So it came as a shock when a couple of weeks later JC told me it would probably be for the best if he moved out. I KNOW, RIGHT? I am an idiot.

 

But here’s where the weird thing comes in. We’ve broken up, but he’s still in the house. He’s off travelling shortly, so he thought it didn’t make much sense for him to look for a new place, and here we are. An ex couple, who just happen to be sharing a flat. And a bed. And worse, a bathroom.

 

Of course, I have my moments of pure and utter despair: will I ever meet anyone else? will I be very lonely? will I be able to navigate being single once more? but you know, I have good friends, I have a city I absolutely love, and eh, I’ll get over it. I will miss him though, it’s hard not to miss someone who has been such a part of your life, and changed you in ways you probably can’t tell, but I’m hoping to take the good and move on.

 

(ETA: The creative writing workshop is now on October 10th. A few spaces still open, email me if you want to come.)