Letter from a Stranger

Just when I start cribbing about my monotonous routine, some incident makes the day, in want of a better word, interesting! And yet again, our Delhi Metro becomes the backdrop. But the flavor is totally filmy.

For those who still aren’t aware of my plight, I’ll give a brief again. Since I started work at Zee, I have been taking the first metro at 6AM in the morning. Either I am in a zombie like state or too engrossed in my book to bother about anything else. But I never realized that someone else was bothering a bit too much about me!

Today, at Rajiv Chowk metro station, while I had settled down on the platform to catch a nap while I waited for my train, a young boy approached me and handed me a novel: Charles Dicken’s David Copperfield. And our conversation went something like this:

Boy: That guy in the red jacket has given this for you.

Me: *Puzzled expression, almost a frown* What? Who? Excuse me, what?

Boy, pointing vaguely behind him: That guy in red has asked me to give this to you.

Me: Who are you talking about and what..

Boy: I have to catch this train. I’m in a hurry.

And he was off, and I was left at the platform with the heavy novel in my hand still staring at the space where the train had been like a fool. After giving myself a few seconds I opened the book and found a letter inside written on a ruled sheet torn from a spiral notebook, written in black ink. The letter goes like this (sic):

Now its been more than two months I am seeing a very sweet girl... A pretty girl with specs... very punctual of time... a rigorous reader.... never moved her eyes away from the pages of novel... never cared what's around her... & lastly, looks supercute while taking naps between stations....

I don't know what her name is but for me she will always be "the Novel girl:.....

It isn't that I had never seen a beautiful girl before but ever since the day I have seen you, you have been in my mind... So simple still very sweet...

I am (I’d keep him anonymous to you all)... CA Final Student.... we both board the same train from Model Town station... I am very simple... I speak very less & understand things simply. I normally have a reserved nature but don't know why I opened up to you.

Don't take me wrong.. I have just expressed my thoughts in words. I always thought to approach you but never dared to... I think I was more than nervous and also I never wanted to look cheap. So I thought this is the best way I can express myself, silently.

CONFESSION - I had followed you to Zee network office..... very sorry....

bcoz I wanted to know about you...

If you think I am wrong and you find everything absurd then please ignore me and find a perfect trashbin for my feelings...

But if you think that we can be friends, you can contact me...

email id/ facebook id - : (Skipping this particular detail as well because of obvious reasons!)

Humble request:

Ma'am, Atleast accept this novel as a small gift.. I am wondering whether you would like it or not but I suppose it would be as good as "the Wuthering heights".

Wuthering Heights happens to be the last novel that I was reading. I will admit, the letter did put a warm smile to my face and my heartbeat was slightly accelerated because of the exhilaration. Flattery goes down well with all women and I am no exception. I was feeling good but soon, this emotion was replaced by that of worry. Is he a stalker? Should I be scared? What should I do now? Ofcourse, I will return the book, but how will I even recognize him? Would I hurt his feelings? He seems like a decent boy from his letter and would be embarrassed if I end up humiliating him unintentionally. Should I write him a letter as well explaining that though I find the gesture sweet, I cannot accept it? 

Anyhow, I will think of a way to politely decline his offer of being friends, but I will always remember this letter from a stranger which warmed my heart on a chilly morning and brought colour to my cheeks.

*Sigh* J

Middle Aged Me

So it’s been quite some time since I graduated. The last I attended college as a student was on 29^th April. I graduated a young, vibrant, fun, cheerful girl of 21 and 8 months later I feel middle aged, already! I grew a decade old in a matter on months. By middle aged I mean, I am more reserved (as if that’s possible!), more observant, more mature, more sincere. Almost a nerd. My saving grace is that I can still take out double meanings from almost all conversations. I still dance like drunk on cheap songs (the latest being Sheila ki Jawani and Munni Badnam), both, alone in my room (which can be scary if you happen to peep in through the keyhole) and in public (which will have you in splits).

There are many more silly things which keep the kid in me alive. But the symptoms of middle age are distinctly pronounced. A few of them are as follows:

 

1) Patience - I had a short fuse and was proud of it. At times, it was extremely hard to disguise my intolerance. 

After beginning work, I realised that immaturity is an acquired trait, something I have always had low tolerance for, despite being quite immature myself. The funny thing is that most people, who pride themselves in being veterans (read: Snobs!), have amazingly high levels of this not - so - hard - to - find trait. Colleagues fight like kids (though their verbal matches are liberally littered with the choicest of abuses), shout like kids, are as stubborn as kids (at times, close to stomping their feet!). But unlike kids they can't be pacified with a bar of chocolate. When I first got my glimpse of this coveted corporate world, my first instinct was to save myself from the filthy politics of it. But I am not a quitter so I decided to be a part of them, but at my own terms. Now when I watch grown - ups fighting like cats and dogs, I feel amused and in more personal environments, shake my head and cluck my tongue in disapproval and launch into mommy - like speeches on proper etiqutte!

 

2) To joke or not to joke - I was among the few girls in my school and college who had a funny bone. I could make and take jokes unabashedly. Being so sporting and having a good sense of humour made me a tomboy of sorts. And as most jokes end  up being, mine too were insensitive and it was only after I had blurted it out did I realise that it could be receievd in bad taste. 

And now,

NOTE: I feel like a telemarketing salesperson elaborating the after and before effect of a product! :P

And now, I think twice before even passing a comment and either the moment passes away or I end up biting my tongue. And when someone makes a joke on me, I blush like an idiot and my rebuttal isn't as quick and cunning as it used to be. No wonder it is a humourless world. I guess the dryness in people around me is rubbing off on me.

Sigh, such is life dearies!

 

3) Boring: Ok, I have always been a boring person when I am on my own. I am a 'ME' person. I prefer devouring books while I am cozy in my blanket, watching movies back to back, playing my guitar, writing something, all singular activities. I am comfortable with myself and don't feel any need for company. Coffee with friends and movies in theatres and shopping sprees are fine (shopping isn't really fine, but anyway...), but it's the solitary things that give more pleasure.

But there was always a fine balance of solitary and group activities. Of late, I am spending too much time with myself. My itinerary mainly comprises of work, sleeping and eating. I squeeze in music and reading while I am travellign to and fro work. I sleepwalk through the week and it is only during weekends that I relent to my craving for good company and indulge myself. So earlier (yes, it's the before and after thing again) I was comfortable being with myself, and now I have no other option but. The result is: Boring me! 

 

4) I'm not a girl, not yet a woman: Am I reading too much into it or have people really started taking me more seriously now? Suddenly people (especially aunties) start scrutinizing me in a whole new way once they get to know that I am working with a news channel. Infact, a few of my relatives have called me especially to consult on some serious issues! I feel comfortable enough in adult company and the conversation flows easily. They treat me like I am one of 'them'! Though, there are times when I get bored of being treated like a 30 year old and hence, the jolly uncles who pull your cheeks no matter how old you are, will always be missed and loved!

5) Philosophical + Sentimental = OLD - If ever you need advice on personal matters, please DO NOT come to me. Of late I have begun ranting a lot which just guarantees raised eyebrows and stares. If you feel like making small talk about the weather or any new accessory that you just bought, be prepared to listen to a long philosophical monologue which will eventually come around to the inescapable point of how the only important thing in life is being happy and content. And if you happen to find me an un-philosophical mood, don't feel lucky because even if you would be spared from 'only - happiness - is - important' soliloquy, I will, in all probability, launch into a sentimental dialogue on parents, self respect or any other random topic. If you are a girl, you might bear with me for a good 10 - 15 minutes (which would be unadvisable as it would only encourage me to build up momentum, which most definitely would be injurious to both my and your health). But if you are a guy, 30 seconds later you would be running down the lane screaming and declaring my insanity! And when at the young age of 21, boys run away from you, then you don't need any other proof of your middle agedness.

 

 

There are many more evidences which confirm my rapid aging but either they are too embarassing to share, or are skipping my mind (that, dear friend, is another symptom of middle age). Although there is no trace of gray in my unruly hair, no laugh lines close to my eyes. So the situation is still in hand. It is not all bad. The fact that I see in myself a new confidence, better judgement of situations and people, a relaxed and mature attitude, sharper insight and other changes which aren't too obvious at sight, is exhilirating. Also, there is a new maturity on my face which makes people take me a bit more seriously. So overall, its not as bad. Besides, I believe a middle aged grace along with a girlish charm is a rather enviable combination. :P 

 

At the end of the day, all is well. :)

   

 

 

Making Memories

When life is playing a game you suck at,
or pampering you with happy hours,
There are few people I can always count on,
Because nothing is mine, it's always 'our's'.

When old photos fade, memories blur
of joy and bitching and night stays and fun.
Don't fret my love, we'll meet again,
to make new memories, all happy ones.

Need a shoulder?

Everyone has played agony aunt. Some people enjoy it, other don’t. As for me (it’s MY blog so obviously I’ll get more footage!), I don’t know about enjoying it but people seek my services as one oftet. Reason being, I believe I come across as a very quiet, wise and understanding person (not that I claim to be it all) but it makes people assume that I would be a good agony aunt.

Playing agony aunt for men can be a satisfying experience because you can give them your suggestions, discuss their problems rationally, point out where they went wrong. In short, most guys won’t mind criticism and look forward to suggestions. But you have to tread carefully around their extremely inflatable male ego. Just a bit too much of the wrong kind of wind and it goes bobbing in your face!

With women, playing agony aunt is an all together different ball game. It is a hundred times more complex. Somehow, nothing you say seems to pacify the. Well, the solution is quite simple if you are patient enough to go through it. The most important thing to remember is that women DO NOT need anyone’s advice. They are only looking for a person (preferably dumb) who’d hear them out and grunt and nod at appropriate intervals. Don’t ever make the mistake of making any suggestions unless you have been explicitly asked for them atleast FIVE times! So hear them out patiently while they vent their heart out to you. But hold on guys, before you make elaborate plans of consoling the next distressed girl you see, listen to the hard part. We girls are rather smart, so, pretentious grunts and nods won’t be enough and we can very well catch the yawn you try to stifle. So basically, you need to assure them that they are right. Whatever they did was completely acceptable and any normal person would have done the same thing under such circumstances. You have to strategically twist around their words and give it back to them. Throw in a couple (actually,  make that a score) of compliments and totally filmy philosophy to convey that the pretty little distressed thing deserves so much more and only good can happen to such a good person. Oh, and don’t forget to add that the frown and tears don’t do justice with such a beautiful face and BINGO! She’d be smiling in no time. The only downside is that the whole session might go on for hours and would come up the next day and the next day and the whole week and might pop up months later as well. And you’d be expected to remember each and every word exchanged during that conversation.

So, is it a lose – lose situation for the consoler? Actually, I believe that it’s quite the opposite. Undeniably, it is a feel good thing for the agony aunt. The comfort seekers make you feel important and trust you enough to share their troubles with you. They also consider you wise and understanding to seek advice. Besides, this pedestal that you are placed on, you are also involved in someone else’s problems, the outcome of which won’t have any effect in your personal life. And essentially, all humans are voyeuristic in nature. Offering your suggestions or shoulder can make you a part of a live and exclusive real life daily soap. It’s another matter whether how much this drama interests or excites you.

A word of caution: If your name becomes synonymous with Agony Aunt/ Uncle, it can wreak your personal life and snatch away your peace of mind.

Though, I’m no veteran, I speak from my personal experience. I rarely share my problems with anyone and I am yet to master the art of solving my troubles satisfactorily. Therefor helping someone else (in whatever small way) with their problems makes me feel stronger and gives me hope that if I can help others, then being the selfish creature that I am, I can help myself better.

Also, being agony aunt can be very satisfying too. The knowledge that you could be some help to others (however trivial it might be), can do you a whole lot of good.

And there goes my phone again. Seems like someone need the agony aunt!

Of Dogs and Flirts

Often I’m reminded how colourful Delhiites are. And no, I’m not just talking about the clothes (though it’s hard to ignore the ishtylish fluorescent green vest with a blinding orange Lord Shiva  emblazoned on the front with fake Swarovski embellishments; and purple baggy pants hanging precariously mid – butt, threatening to fall anytime – actually such colourful characters deserve a blog post of their own!). But this post is dedicated to the rangeelay Dilliwaale. And what better than the Delhi metro to sample some samples?

And no sir, it’s not just the people! A few days ago back, when I was running up metro station’s escalator to catch the waiting metro which could make me reach office on time for once, I was greeted by an unusual sight. So as I was running, hair bellowing, bag clutched in my hand, spectacles slipping off my nose, I skidded inside the metro door just in time to stop myself from bumping into a dog.

A Dog? Well, a puppy actually, but a dog nevertheless. In the metro!

My eyes widened as I saw the little black and white spotted pup sitting on its haunches right at the door. It’s head was cocked to the left and it was looking at me questioningly. After the metro began moving, I straightened my hair and glasses, adjusted my heavy bag (Ma packs a heavy lunch) on my shoulder, I glanced at the lil’ pup again. It was still eying me with a particularly bemused expression. At this point I couldn’t suppress a smile and in turn the puppy stuck it’s tongue out, returning the smile. So I knelt down and scratched it behind the ears. And then it was pandemonium! Apparently the whole train was witnessing this playful exchange between me and the puppy with much interest. Now all the aunties and uncles were clucking their tongues with disapproval and shaking their heads at me.

Umm, yes. So what if the dog was an obvious stray?

So what it all the passengers were confused as to how it got on the train in the first place?

And I got quite a few appreciative glances from some young boys and, awed expressions from kids and disgusted expressions from their parents. Ignoring the attention, I went further inside the train. The little pup followed me. Now began the squealing! Girls were giggling, aunties were shrieking whenever the little pup got too close to their feet. Kids were getting giddy with excitement. Trying to hold back a smile, I settled into a seat (it was one of those lucky days when I managed to find one!). The pup, now scared and jumpy from all the screaming and shrieking, hid itself behind by legs and curled itself around my heels. I shook my heels playfully and prodded it a bit and it playfully responded by playing with the hem of my jeans. Finally, the puppy settled down for a nap around my heels. Soon, the pup’s entertainment value reduced as people shifted attention back to their morning papers or earphones. It was my best metro ride till date! But all the time I was wondering why no one had done anything about the estranged free rider? So, before de- boarding, I fondled the puppy’s head playfully, bid a quick goodbye to it (lest people start thinking me crazy!), pushed the emergency button and informed the driver about the ‘guest’ riding with us.

So, this was about the dog. Now the flirts! So the colourful characters of the city also include the very uniquely talented flirts. I am certain that all women above 14 would be well initiated to the indecent advances and lewd comments of the lecherous crowd. But their novel ways never fail to take me by surprise. I am very good with my poker face but at times even I can’t help not reacting! So this incident, like many recent ones, occurred in the metro as well. On my way back home from work, I was standing in the metro, holding the metro pillar for support. I was reading a book. My bookmark slipped from the pages and landed on the floor. But before I could even bend to retrieve it, a boy had already picked it. I thanked him politely and went on with my reading. But I soon became intensely aware of four people looking at me. They were young boys. Maybe college students. The boy who had helped me was also amongst them, wearing a candy red fitted t – shirt. The other three boys were decently dressed too. The weird thing was that all four were looking at me intently. But when I caught them looking, three of them averted their eyes but Mr. Sandy red gave me a little smile. I acknowledged him with a nod and turned my attention back to my book. Soon I could hear whispers. The four boys were talking about me. I was sure because I could still sense them looking at me. Finally, at one station, they made to get out. I was relieved because their stares and whispered conversations were making me uneasy. Mr. Candy red though, did not alight with his friends who called him again and again. Mr. Candy red did not budge from his place and told his friends that he had to try. I got off at the next station. Mr. Candy red followed me. I quickly exited the station but I knew he was still behind me. Just as I was about the go down the stairs, Mr. Candy red shouted excuse me and out of habit, I turned. The short conversation that followed was something like this:

Mr. Candy red: Hi.

Me: Yes?

Mr. Candy red: Umm, I just wanted to tell you that you are very beautiful.

Me: (Raised one eyebrow)

Mr. Candy red: And I think I have fallen in love with you.

Me: (Trying hard not to laugh) Excuse me?

Mr. Candy red: I am in love with you. Would you like to join me for a coffe?

Me: No. Sorry. I am not interested.

Mr. Candy red: Can I have your number please?

Me: Look, I am really not interested. I have to go.

I fled down the stairs thinking about all the intelligent retorts I could have given him.

Mr. Candy red (shouting from behind): Do you want me to follow you around till you get convinced?

I let myself smile a bit but made sure that he did not see it.

I was a bit flattered but mostly, surprised out of my wits! This was a first for me. Hence, I conclude that Delhi’s colourful crowd would never cease to surprise me. Be it dogs or flirts. 

Wishlist!

It's definitely not a things - to - do - before - I - die list. It's a comprehensive list of things I need before or immediately after a special occasion. This day comes once in every fortunate individual's life. It marks the beginning of a new chapter and brings you to the threshold of newer responsibilities and never - before - experienced powers. It is an awakening of sorts. If you still haven't been able to decipher the reason behind this sudden surge of enthusiasm, then fret not. Because the reason behind my delightful chirrups would be much celebrated by one and all! It is, hold your breath ladies and gentlemen...

My 21st Birthday!!

Umm.. I’ll ignore that I did not hear any drum rolls or crackers. Some people just love to kill others’ buzz. Oh and dare anyone blame me or an anti – climax!

Moving on…

NOTE: I’m only addressing people who shared my joy. Those who regret their indifference and nasty reactions may proceed after texting or emailing their apologies.

Because the day is so special (no arguments would be entertained on this subject), I have decided that it calls for extra effort on the part of my beloveds. So unlike previous years, when I maintained “I just want your wishes” stand, I would go a step further and ask (leaving all self respect behind) all my dear and nwar ones to contribute for my wishlist which goes like this:

1)   1)   Kitten: I adore dogs but I am a cat person. After Mao and Lucky, I feel utterly bereft. To fill this black hole, I absolutely NEED a cute little kitten (or two) on this birthday. Colour, breed, sex, no bar. This would be my best birthday present ever!

2)    2) Tattoo: This bug of getting inked had bit me a year ago. I have decided the place and the design already after days of research. All I need now are the funds (and permission from my folks!). I can imagine it and it looks fantastic!

3)    3) Mobile: This object would always star in every single one of my wishlist because I get bored so soon. But my maintenance, to my misfortune, is very good. To prove the point, I still use my three and a half years old Sony Ericsson K550i. now I need a fancier phone!

4)   4)  One TB external harddisk (full of movies): Classics, world movies, old cinema, latest releases of any genre are invited.

P.S. Lifetime free membership of a multiplex would be much appreciated.

5)    5) Books: I am surprised why it is on number 5! Anyhow, fictions by celebrated or lesser known authors make perfect birthday presents for me. I can devour books anytime and anywhere.

P.S. Consult me before buying any, incase it’s already in my little collection.

6)    6)  A Guitar pendant/  Charm bracelet: I’m not a jewellery person. But I have my heart set on a cute little guitar pendant I saw at a Disney store. The invisible sign above it screamed “Sukriti’s perfect B’day present” with neon lights and all. Also, I so want a delicate charm bracelet which has charms symbolizing events or things or people which have influenced and shaped my life over the years. For instance, a musical note, a book, a cat, initials of loved ones etc.

7)    7) A popcorn vending machine: I love the smell of fresh hot salted popcorn. It’s irresistible! I have dreamed of having my own personal popcorn making machine like the elaborate and colourful one’s we find in hill stations and multiplexes, in my bedroom. I think it would make watching movies (the ones on my 1 TB Hard-disk) a million times better!

8)    8) An amusement park in my backyard: I realize that my wishes are getting very unrealistic and crazier as I procced but then if I won’t say it out loud, my chances of getting them fulfilled are reduced even further. And I am not taking chances! Well, my explanation for this one is that I’m a thrill junkie! I can spend hours in any amusement park taking the same rides again and again. The more dangerous, the better. And the feel of the park, happy people, bright lights, magicians, clowns, music, laughter, kids, lovely aromas and everything else is so beautiful! If fitting a customized park in my backyard is a problem, I can make do with a lifetime membership of a good amusement park.

9)    9) A Trip: This one is more reasonable and genuine. In my 21 years, I have never ever had an airplane ride. It is actually an embarrassing confession. I do have my passport, but it’s still unmarked. A little trip to a beautiful and remote island would be a wonderful present!

10)  Surprise Me!: Yes! Throw me a surprise party with all my loved one’s invited. Lots of dance and music and karaoke and lots of fun. Give me something which I never expected yet secretly desired. I have often maintained that flowers are a waste of money but then which girl does not like being pampered with flowers and chocolates and stuffed toys! I like creative gifts. Hand made ones always make me emotional. I love self drawn birthday cards. I wish someone would write me letters on my birthday. I hope to find my mailbox full of letters and cards and parcels when I wake up in the morning. I just want to feel special and loved on my special day.

It’s not really crazy. A bit silly though, but mostly simple. It’s a well thought out list of my most desired wishes. And I guarantee that the return gifts would be even better!

So, make me happy!!

 P.S. Get working on it! Soon! :D

The Bridesmaid’s Day Out!

I have a self – diagnosed shopping phobia. It is a very rare phenomenon in the fair sex. The symptoms aren’t too severe but guarantee many raised eyebrows and expressions of disbelief in whomsoever you confide your disorder. I’ll simplify my convoluted ranting for you. I am a lazy bum. I prefer spending my weekends sleeping or reading. Either way, don’t expect a happy expression if you try and make me leave my bed on a holiday. So of course, it was with ill – disguised irritation that I finally agreed to go shopping. I would have made another excuse but my Ma’s murderous glare made my decision for me. Besides, the shopping trip would have been slightly difficult without me. It was, after all, my dress that we were supposed to buy. The dress I would be wearing on my sister’s wedding. It wasn’t some posh mall or chick market that my mother had zeroed in on. It was Delhi’s biggest sari bazaar. It was, to my horror, Chandi Chowk. Foreign tourists and book writers like William Dalrymple have glorified Old Delhi as an aesthetic place and the real Delhi. But it is purgatory for luxury lovers like me. Its treacherous little gullies demand full attention lest you stumble and fall on cow shit. The stench from the public urinal (for men of course) follows you around till you are forced into breathing from your mouth. The traffic on the main road is forced into a crawl because there are too many people treating the main road as their own private garden. And even when you are inside the maze like streets of the main bazaar, you’ll never be alone because you would always be flanked by at least two stray dogs, more if you have some eatables in your hand bag. The streets wouldn’t have been so narrow originally. But there are roadside stalls on every available inch of the sidewalk and vendors display their wares on both edges of the road. There must be thousands of eateries in the narrow gullies of Chandni Chowk. Each thronged by scores of people relishing the un - hygienically delicious kachori, chana kulcha, chaat, chhole bhature and pakore. And there is the occasional daring rider on a scooter or a motorbike who would rush past you showing off his riding skills by tousling your hair, pinching your bottom or simply honking tirelessly as he rides away to glory. You can’t see the sun because the view is blocked by the old canted havelis and the tangle of electrical wires.

All this, along with the long tiresome walk to the very interior of the bazaar was a huge put off and I realized I had been frowning since I got off at the metro station. The first showroom was a complete waste of time and effort. There was a 15 minute waiting outside the shop. I had never had to wait to enter a shop before! The sales boys were rude, lecherous (which man isn’t in Delhi?) and arrogant. The clothes were too jazzy for my taste and the men too difficult to tolerate. The next shop was a riot of colours and noises. When we found a corner to sit (after waiting outside for 5 minutes), we waited (yet again) for some sales boy to notice our frantic waves and yells. Finally, someone obliged. Now starts the fun part! My Ma, sister and aunt had graciously accompanied me and were now ordering the salesman to show this sari or that lehenga. For most part of the evening, I was a passive observer. The variety was confusing. I couldn’t even find faults with the pieces the other three women unanimously shirked away after just one glance. After we (actually they) had finally zeroed in on 5 pieced, I was asked to try them on. So I stood to my full 5 feet 2 and a ½ inches height on a wooden plank while two salesmen busied themselves draping the shiny fabric on me. I have to admit, I looked good in every single one of them. I noticed various mothers nudging their soon to be married daughters and jealously pointing at me. Though I knew very well that the sales man’s praises were hollow flattery used lavishly on every customer to sell their wares, I was blushing as I twirled in the pink and green and yellow lehengas. When I thought we had finally chosen one, my aunt made a face and told the salesman that we weren’t satisfied and would like to look around before we finalized on something. I stared at my aunt with my mouth agape and longing in my eyes. I was tired (and I really liked the yellow lehenga). But my aunt was firm and led the way out of the crowded shop.

 It was beginning to get dark now. We had spent about an hour and a half in the second shop and now were heading toward the third one. I was about to complain about the stuffy place when I realized that the other three ladies were going through this ordeal for me. So I zipped my lips and trudged on behind them. The third shop was located near the famous paranthe wali gully. The delicious fragrance of the frying paranthas and pakoras and chaat made my mouth water and I suddenly realized how hungry I was. 

But the ladies were on a mission to find me a dress that very day. So in the next shop my expressions were obviously disgruntled. I did not even bother to take off my shoes (like I had in the previous two shops) to sit down as I was certain that my entourage would not be satisfied so easily. So I stood next to the door as the other three settled down to have a dekko of a hundred more dresses. But then I got enchanted by the pretty fabrics and designs. It might have been the salesman also who was very charming and had a penchant for selling. Then catching our pulse, he showed us a piece which immediately caught our attention and my fancy. It was beautiful and just perfect. No, it was not the colour I had in mind. Instead, it was of the combination I had sworn against. But when I wore it, I knew this was the one. The salesman was a clever fellow. The piece was way above the price range we had indicated. So after heavy bargaining which went on for ½ an hour, we submitted the advance. After a hurried dinner of dahi bhalla and tikki, we were on our way back.

(Note: My aunt was still unsatisfied. In her opinion, we should have been to more shops before settling on something!)

It was a tiresome day. But I would be lying if I said I did not like my image in the mirror, draped in the soft fabric studded with stones and beautified with threadwork. I felt beautiful and very feminine. Shopping for oneself isn’t so bad I guess. Next weekend, I would be shopping for the dress I would be wearing on my sister’s engagement! :P