I do? I Do NOT!

Are you single and of marriagable age (read aged between 19 to 26)? Do your parents love to show off your talents in public? Are you Baniya or Jain or God forbid, both?

If your answer to the above questions is yes, then you have my sympathies with you. Of late, marriage seems like the hot topic. People around me are either newly weds, engaged, meeting a boy/ girl (ofcourse for wedding related purposes), cribbing about their marriage, looking for prospective bride/ grooms or enquiring about the same. Wedding, especially for us members of the fair sex, is expected to be  the ultimate purpose of life. I will explain with my own example. I pride myself in being the offspring of modern minded folks. Maybe the right phrase here would be – used to. My bubble burst when my elder sister tied the knot. Now my parents don’t seem much different than Anandi’s folks. (In case your mom isn’t addicted to this particular soap opera like my Ma, then let me enlighten you that Anandi is the famous child bride of the television drama Balika Vadhu which caused Colours channel's TRPs to shoot up). Suddenly the word 'marriage' began popping up in all the discussions around me! Of course I am not being bombarded with pictures and bio – data of strange men. Not yet. But being 21 has started feeling like a sin. No opportunity is left to remind me that I am the next in line. Going to social do’s (especially weddings!) has become a fearful task that I have come to loathe. There is always an Aunty or two at such a gathering who would be judging me with her X – Ray vision and creating a detailed report on how I would fare as her or some far – off relative’s daughter- in – law. Some women have made matchmaking the purpose of their dull lives and don’t leave any chance to suggest a boy, with detailed description of his looks, his father’s business and mother’s social standing, as a prospective son – in – law.

I don't blame parents for wanting to see their daughters happy and settled in their lives, but it is just sad when marrying off their daughters becomes a duty, accomplishing which will let them retire in peace. And hence, parents are ready to sacrifice their daughters careers, ambitions and aspirations if a proposal comes from a wealthy family. 

It's a hard world, and not just for women. Men, I believe face a different sort of pressure. If you belong to a service class family, the pressure is to find a respectable job, earn well enough to attract attention of a good family who will approve of the boy's gross income and hand over their daughter's hand to him. (Please pay extra attention to the adjectives: respectable job and earn well)

And if you are from a business family, then you are in more trouble brother. Have your share of fun and fulfill your fancies before diving headfirst in your beloved Daddy's business. Because you cannot escape the bees after smoking beneath their hive. Fulfilling your responsibility of being the business scion of the family is the green signal for wedding bells. The general notion is that once you are handling business full time, no matter what your age might be, you are eligible to be married. This is especially true for Baniya families. 

Somehow, parents seem to have the idea that marriage is equal to happiness. Of course I am a firm believer (and hopeful) of happy marriages but somehow being a wife or a husband isn't all that there is to life for me. Marriage isn't happiness. Marriages are to be made happy and that is only possible if both the parties involved are satisfied with their personal lives and each other. 

Sadly, most parents fail to understand the point and unlike some last entries, I do not have any solution to offer. And now I have to go hide in the bathroom. The neighbourhood matchmaker has come to pay a visit. Not a good time to be in viewing distance.

Adios.

This is ME

A fortnight back I thought of jotting down a few characteristics or peculiar quirks of mine which define ME. After 2 weeks, following is the list I compiled in no particular order. It helped me to know myself better.

*I feel very conscious when people talk to me looking at my lips and not my eyes.
* If I am looking at my phone again and again while talking to you, then it is a signal that you are making me uncomfortable.
* If my smile doesn't show my gums, then its my practised polite smile. Not genuine.
* I totally dig toilet humour.
* If you do something for me, even if trivial by your standards, it would take a lot of convincing to make me believe that you are a bad guy for others.
* I sit on the toilet seat reading books for as long as an hour or till someone bangs the door.
* I take my most beloved people for granted although I expect a lot from them.
* I sing aloud in the metro.
* It really matters to me what people think about me, even if those people are complete strangers.
* I can count my "friends" on my fingers.

* I bite my lip when I am concentrating, worrying or blushing.
* Many people will realise that they have shared their life's secrets with me while I haven't been so open.
* I like being alone, hate being lonely.
* I cry while reading most of the books.
* I am a brilliant bathroom singer. Somehow the same songs don't sound too good in any other setting.
* I am a little over confident about my gadget related skills. When in real, I know I am the one eyed one amongst the blind.
* I suck with money management.
* I am not comfortable meeting acquaintances unexpectedly. Generally, I end up avoiding them and don't acknowledge them if I spot them in a public place. But if the other person spots me and strikes a conversation, in most cases I feel grateful for the company.
* I am not a people person. (People at my workplace won't be very happy with this considering I am supposed to be a guest relations executive).
* I feel guilty for mistakes committed by others.
* I am jealous of girls with straight silky hair.
* My hair look good in my bathroom mirror, awry in my bedroom mirror and pathetic in every other mirror.
* If you haven't seen me angry, you don't know me.
* I am a better writer than conversationalist.
* I may come across as a wise girl to some, but I am not famous for following my own advice.
* I miss my sister, but I would kill myself before admitting it to her face.
* I don't have any favourite colour, song, actor or food.
* I have terrible choice when it comes to clothes.
* I can't window shop. I can't shop. Period.
* I am always more excited about the car/ train/ bus journey than the trip itself.
* Although I might brag about knowing lots about and liking international cinema, I almost always end up watching/ re-watching a Hollywood rom - com when in the mood for a movie.
* My memory isn't half as good as a 21 year old's should be.
* I don't like making or taking calls unless I am extremely close to you. I am more of a text and email person.
* I think I manage to look decently good if I take pains. But I detest taking pains.
* Until 2010, I did not know how to apply kohl.

* I am funny.
* I have had close to 200 crushes in all my 21 years.

* I find it hard to believe that someone might have the hots for me.
* I can be a b*tch if I am your friend. You are perfectly safe if you are just an acquaintance.
* I get restless when I have to wander aimlessly. I prefer to plan things in advance.
* I usually skip through a much loved song or forward it when I am listening to it on my music player. But I wish to listen again and again when I come across it accidentally on the FM.
* I like dogs more than I like little babies.

* I name my gadgets, popular ones being Bobby (my BlackBerry) and Pintu (my netbook).

* I maintain a diary.

* My ego is more inflated than an average guy's.

* If I happen to hold a grudge against someone, it takes a while before I forgive, if I ever do.

I might have missed many. If you think you know me, please add to the list.

What's the story?

If you happen to have a brain cell or two similar to mine, you’ll be suffering from my problem as well. Although in a more formal company, if I ever had to mention it, I would probably boast about it as being my highly developed creative streak. But in real, it is just an exercise which acts as a huge distraction and does not solve any purpose. And what exactly am I ranting about here? It would be easier to explain with the help of an example:







As usual I don’t have a place to rest my derriere in the fantastically crowded metro. I still wonder from where did so many women come in city? Anyway, I am drifting again. So, in the metro my shins are rubbing with a girl’s knee who is sitting right in front of me. I am engrossed in my book and am trying to push back a fat auntie’s even fatter handbag when I hear a loud sniff. I lower down my book. I am greeted with a very moving sight of the girl with her nose tomato red, cheeks streaked with smudged kohl and hands wringing a very creased towel napkin. It is very obvious that she is distressed and her anxiety is so great that she is forced to display her grief in public. Out of habit I ask her if she is fine and immediately I regret bothering. The girl throws a killer look at me which clearly says: Mind your own business, B*tch! So, I shrug nonchalantly and get back to my book, only to find out that I just can’t concentrate anymore. My mind is busy making up theories behind the girl’s state. Maybe she has had a terrible fight with her boyfriend (C’mon, I can be more original than THAT, dear brain!). Maybe she has been kicked out from her job. Maybe she has had an argument with friends or parents. Maybe her boyfriend dumped her or she walked in his room only to find him cheating on her (Cliché, let’s please move on and think beyond boyfriend related issues, brain!). Maybe someone died. Maybe she found out that she is suffering from an incurable disease. Maybe she was listening to a sad song which reminded her of something sad. Maybe she lied to her parents to meet her boyfriend; her parents found out and ordered her to come right back and now she is scared of the consequences. But then she wouldn’t cry before she faces the consequences, would she? (Ok, I admit, most of the girls cry like babies because of boyfriend related issues only. Happy dear brain? You win!).


Even after the girl had somewhat pacified herself and was fixing her make – up, I was bubbling with curiosity. What could have made the girl cry buckets in the metro?






So now you understand what problem I was referring to? Ofcourse it can act as a brilliant means of time pass but what usually happens is, that this ‘curiosity’ generally pops up when you are supposed to concentrate elsewhere. Like this other day, I had finally decided to start studying for my M.A. exams. With a heavy heart, I had replaced my half read novel with study notes in my office bag. While waiting for my metro on the platform, going through my notes, I saw a distinctly middle aged woman. She was donning a kurta with fitted leggings which emphasized all the wrong curves. Her face had laugh lines and dark spots and her eyebrows were artlessly darkened. I could see gray hair near her ears and on her hairline. There was no doubt she would be either 40 years of age (if I give her too much leverage) or older. I kept staring at her with a raised eyebrow wondering what exactly is weird about this woman. When I saw that the woman had noticed me gawking at her I turned my gaze. But then in a few seconds I was looking at her again trying to find out what was different. And then I noticed the red and white sparkly wedding bangles that were adorning her wrists. For those who don’t know, first of all you should be ashamed of not knowing, and secondly, red and white bangles are worn by newly married women for about a year till after their wedding. Don’t ask me why, I have no clue, but they are quite the rage! Anyway, just when the bulb in my mind lit, the metro came and we boarded it. Now, as I tried to focus on my notes my mind kept wandering to the woman again and again. Infact I found myself combing the coach with my eyes searching for that woman. And when I did find her, I found it hard to look away. I am sure she noticed my shameless gawking as well and kept giving me sly looks as well. So while I forcefully made myself read my notes, I couldn’t help not wondering about this woman’s story. Why is she wearing those wedding bangles? (Stupid question Brain!) How come she got married so late? Maybe this was her second marriage. But why would she want to advertise her second marriage by wearing that red and white chooda that young and newly wedded girls love to flaunt? Maybe she just got married late. Does she not feel weird wearing them at this age? What would she have been thinking when she would have made up her mind to wear the bangles? Is she used to people staring at her wrists? Why did she get married so late? Was it a love marriage? And so on…






I know it is shallow of me to think like that for someone I don’t know. But, as the saying goes, Curiosity got the cat. Everyone has a story. You might find your story utterly boring or sad but you can’t imagine how much it can tease and torture someone like me! I see a young boy with a band-aid on his elbow and this sets my neurons off! I spend a good 15 – 20 minutes cooking up a story behind that band – aid. Agreed that it is a distraction, but, it definitely is a lot of fun as well. You might find endings to some stories, but for most, you would just have to be more creative.






So, what’s your story?

With Love, for Dad

It's only when you see other's respecting your parents that your respect for them grows even more and you begin to see them in a different light. I believe medicine and teaching are the most rewarding professions in terms of genuine respect. And as my folks happen to be teachers (a fact I am extremely proud of), I get to witness displays of respect and love quite often. Here I share such an incident:

Yesterday evening I settled on the couch in the drawing room with my laptop. I had to finish a new blog entry (which turned out to be rather boring, if I may say so myself). Papa was sitting on the other sofa correcting some sheets and flipping through the channels on the TV. So, I was sprawled on the sofa when a young (fat) girl of 16 came bustling in announcing that she has come to introduce Papa's new student. I remembered this girl. She is from our colony. I had seen her around often. She came to take classes from Papa. But if I was remembering correctly, she had just given her 10th board exams. (Here I must mention that my memory is troubling me a lot since quite some time now, I am open to sensible advice) (oh, and I should also mention that my Papa is a science teacher for 9th and 10th standard by qualification but also teaches mathematics because he loves the subject.) Ok, so when the girl (whose name I can't recall. Remember, memory issues!) announced that she has brought along a new student, I glanced at the hallway. But she was only trailed by her very modern looking mother. So I straightened up and tried to smooth the creases from my oversized gray nightshirt (all in vain, I still looked silly) and smiled hospitably at the mother daughter duo. They made themselves comfortable and I was still waiting for the new student, when the girl said that she has opted for medical science as stream for her higher studies. Although she has enrolled herself in a correspondence study course from a hi - fi institute (with a high success rate, so it claims), she wanted dad to teach her. Ok, so dad is a brilliant teacher, the best I have ever had, but for more than 30 years now, he has taught standards 9th and 10th. Higher classes is a completely different game. No game actually. As my dad tried to patiently explain his student that she had taken a good step by enrolling in that institute and she should take help from more specialised teachers, she just shook her head, all the while saying that she would only study from him. So dad turned to her mother hoping for some sensibility. And sensible she was, judging from the arguments she had! She told dad that in 11th, the institute would only provide detailed notes and dad could brush up his knowledge a bit with their help and then teach it to her daughter. Biology is dad's forte (and my favourite) so he promised to help her with Bio. But the girl also wanted him to teach Physics, Chemistry and Maths. Now, PCBM in 11th is no small feat. And expecting dad to study all these subjects himself first and then teaching it to the girl was rather idealistic. Besides, dad doesn't have the time. (And I am sure he won't want to forego his time on the computer playing solitaire and hearts :P). So Papa gave the girl contact details of his former colleague and good friend who was a master of Maths and Physics. But the girl just wouldn't budge! Even the mother pitched in saying that her daughter had taken up medical because Papa restored her interest in science and the way he taught chemistry was amazing because in all these years, she had understood the mole concept properly herself for the first time! And I just couldn't help not smiling. The daughter and mother coming up with genius arguments (and they really were good with their persuasion skills!) And Papa feeling like he had lost the battle already and worrying slightly at the prospect of studying the tedious course of 11th and 12th again. So I pitched in the discussion and advised that the girl try out the teacher that dad had suggested and if she had any trouble with him, she can contact dad again. Meanwhile, Dad can work on 11th's Biology. This seemed to pacify the mother a bit.

After they had left, I told dad that it was a good idea to go through the course of higher classes once. It is not like he hasn't studied and taught it before. And it would mean more income because the target group would increase. Dad just smiled his crinkly eyed smile at me and said money isn't everything (cliche bt touche) and he was content with what he has. And he went back to watching a dubbed south Indian film. Actually I think he loves his computer cards games a bit too much to spend his tome studying instead :P

Anyhow, seeing how genuinely Papa's students loved him and respected him and the comfortable relation they shared with him, joking and laughing loudly and imposing on him, I felt slightly jealous and mighty proud! They'l saunter into the kitchen anytime for a drink of water or some snack and Ma would willingly oblige. They'l sprawl on the floor, on the couch, in the hallway and any available space while giving their tests and the family would have to skip over their legs and backs to move from one place to another. it's a wonderful feeling, knowing that your parents are loved and respected so much. It gives you another reason to love your parents even more.

Mom, Dad.. I am extremely proud of you. I love you.

Little Somethings

Last night after a long relaxing bath I made my way to my bedroom with the resolution to catch up on my sleep by getting in bed early. So I went up to my bookshelf to choose a book from my limited library for some night-time reading. I took out an old volume of Sherlock Holmes mysteries. Just as I was about to settle in my bed, I saw two smooth pebbles crammed in the empty space from where I had just taken out the dog - eared book. One was gray - green and smooth to touch, the other one red and rough textured, but both were beautifully oval. I had picked these pebbles from a river bed when in Simla with friends, on a vacation, as souvenirs of the good times. In no time I realised I was smiling while looking in space like a lunatic, remembering that trip and all the fun we had. I blew the dust off the pebbles and replaced them on a more respectable place on my already crammed shelf. 

Forgetting all about my book and my good intentions of sleeping early, I found myself a duster and set about cleaning my shelf. On the top shelf, there’s a collection of little statuettes of the laughing Buddha gifted to me as good luck gestures. Along with the content Buddhas, there is a pretty little idol of Lord Krishna which glows in the dark; a beautiful finger sized Lord Ganesha with a missing arm; a heavy one eyed statue of the Laddoo Gopal; a mini crystal shiv linga and a blackened plate of navakar mantra. The surprising thing is that I am not a religious person! I feel proud in being 'almost - an - atheist'. I wonder why so many deities adorn my bookshelf in that case! But I just did not have the heart to put them away or hand them over to Ma where they would be in safe hands. But the stories and people and memories related to them made it difficult for me to part with them. And I am good at avoiding difficult things.

After rubbing the tummies of all the Buddhas (for luck) and dusting the other deities, I moved on to the trophies. When I was 15, I had about 120 trophies and cups to my name. They gathered dust on the curtain pelmet, almirah tops, table tops, next to the TV, behind the TV, perched precariously on the wall clock.. I guess you get the idea. Every available free space had a trophy on it. No, I don't intend to show off here, (OK, maybe just a bit, there's nothing wrong with being an extra-ordinarily talented child, now is there?). These tokens of appreciation and recognition caused me a lot of embarrassment and usually acted as conversation starters. People used to enter our little drawing room and be taken aback by all that junk! And my parents would pounce at the opportunity of regaling the poor guest with stories behind the trophies and moving on to how talented their daughter is. Anyway, I am drifting here. So, when I grew up and got enough authority in the house, I gave away some trophies and cups to the neighborhood children, most of the lot went to the 'raddi' waalah (My mother was heartbroken. She had planned to give away these trophies as a part of my dowry! :O), some I saved and now they gather dust on my bookshelf. If I had known how nostalgic I would get about my school years, I would have never ever given away all those cups.

(MENTAL NOTE TO SELF: Hunt down the kids I had distributed my awards to. Get them back)

I came across an old diary of mine and when I flipped through it, out fell torn and faded A R Rehman concert passes. It had names on it and smileys and I just couldn't help smiling back at the slightly off balance smiley. I fingered a lone rose pressed between the pages of the diary. I remember selecting the rose from my birthday bouquet. The bouquet was an unexpected gift from a dear friend studying abroad.

There was a lotto ticket with just one remaining number. Our entire family, some 60 people, had gathered on New Year’s Eve to celebrate together. We had chatted and played Lotto. I had waited for ages and ages for that one number to be announced but it never was. I pinned that ticket to my purple board. There were college fest tickets to Jal’s concert and lots of letters and notes, received and written, movie tickets, restaurant bills.

A lot of stuff in my room is totally useless for me. There is a sea - shell, ornamental candles (which don't burn, obviously), a crystal ball with a German cathedral and fake snowflakes and a score of other this and thats. Each one of no obvious use to me, but each a reminder of some incident or someone. It was after seeing all these little nothings that I realized what an emotional idiot I am. I never thought of myself as a keeper of memories, but then my diary records, my writings, my collection of cards and souvenirs prove otherwise. Well, another new revelation about myself. Thought I’d share it with everyone. Maybe I have saved something which reminds me of you as well. J

Not the season for love

The sun is playing hide – and – seek, the wind plays tricks. The weather is just perfect for a romantic date but this is certainly not the season for romance. Much unlike Bollywood, all love stories around me are climaxing towards a sad end. People are more open minded, more modern. There are plenty of opportunities to meet new people, a million new places to explore with your beloved. So then what really is the problem? Let’s try and find out:

1. You, me, we: Yes, we are the problem here. It is so easy for us to fall in love. A pretty new girl in office? All the young bachelors would be figuring out ways to impress her, desperately looking for an opportunity to talk to her, searching her profile on Facebook, practicing their lines before talking to her. All the married men would be shooting side glances at her and bubbling with unsuppressed glory when she bestows them with a smile.

The cutest guy in office said a casual ‘Hi there’ to you? The lady would soon be imagining all sorts of hidden meanings behind those two – words. Every night, she’d be spending an hour in front of her wardrobe thinking about what colour or cut would please him. All her friends would be bored of tales about how the cute guy at work is conspicuously flirting with her.

Falling in love is easy. But once you become officially committed, finding faults becomes easier. Losing patience comes naturally. Accuses, blames, verbal fights, bitching, tears and then goodbye.

Solution: The heart is a muscle which pumps blood. It has got nothing to do with love! So before our hormones get out of control, let’s move beyond the prettiness and use our brains to think about bigger issues like compatibility and understanding.

2. I’m sorry, what were you saying?: Let me open this point with a little example: Last evening, walking back home from the metro station, I noticed a couple in a cycle rickshaw. The boy had his arm around the girl’s shoulder and the girl was resting her head on the boy’s shoulder. They were holding hands. The girl was smiling and saying something. I was just about to go ‘Aw! How sweet’ when a girl in a short black dress, open hair and big sunglasses passed the rickshaw. The boy almost broke his neck trying to see that young girl as she passed the rickshaw. And he might as well have been X – Raying her with his eyes, the way he was gawking at her from head to toe and back again! All this while his poor girlfriend was still babbling about something oblivious to her boyfriend’s cheapness.

So the point here is: Low Attention Spam; which is directly related to my first point above. It is too easy to fall in love again and again and again. Ye dil maange more! The grass in always greener on the other side of the hill. And once you reach the other side, the next hill seems even more greener. And it never ends! Adultery and unfaithfulness are the biggest reasons behind break – ups these days.

Solution: Respect and cherish what you have. Remember the reason why you fell in love and give reasons to your beloved to love you back. Would you like your boyfriend or girlfriend to check out some hottie the way you have been eyeing that hot girl or cool dude?

3. That inflated thing: Ego! The destroyer of relations and the enemy of lovers. I am always right and you are, obviously, always wrong. Who are you to suggest anything to me? What even makes you think that you can get away with pointing faults in me? Yes, Ego!

This one problem is the hardest to overcome. Even after you pledge your whole life to someone, you would always remain selfish. It is always easier to shout than to listen and analyse. It is always easier to find faults in others than to introspect. It is so much easier to blame the other person for the problems in the relationships than to think where we are doing wrong. And in today’s times, when women are equal to men in all respects, it would be unfair to say that it is the male – ego which is even more inflated than a hot – air balloon. We women are no less.

Solution: Once you start thinking about both of you (you and your beloved) as one entity, you think about the combined interests. So even when you act selfish, it is for the both of you. Also, in case of a disagreement, let your partner iterate his/ her problems first. Listen carefully, think it over rationally from your and your partner’s perspective and then give your arguments, requesting your partner to think them through. By giving yourself and your beloved time for analyzing each other’s argument, you take away the rage from the moment. You stop being driven by ego and start thinking rationally. Although, trust me, it is easier said than done.

4. What is it that you want?: Most times, when in a relationship, we tend to assume that our darlings obviously want/ like/ prefer/ enjoy the same things as we do. So when you cancel a movie plan to take your girlfriend home for cosying – up, you might find her a bit unenthusiastic. Or you might wonder why your boyfriend looks so lost even though you are shopping for him in that mall.

I’ll give you an example here: A friend of mine threw a lavish surprise b’day party for his girlfriend. He had called all her and his friends there. There was music and dancing and cake and booze and fifty odd people enjoying. His idea of a perfect party. Though his girlfriend was aptly surprised, she did not seem to be enjoying the party. My friend was so distraught that his girlfriend did not appreciate his gesture that a long and ugly fight ensued between the two, leading to a very messy break – up. Actually, what the girl was looking forward to was a quiet romantic dinner alone with her boyfriend. She did not much care for a noisy party where scores of little known people came just for the free alcohol.

When we impose our preferences on our beloveds, we are hampering their individuality and making them like ourselves.

Solution: Ofcourse we do things for each other when we are in a relation, but it is always a good idea to maintain a healthy balance. If one week, you take your boyfriend for shopping or massage, then try your beau’s idea of fun the next time. If you want to spend your Sunday at home sipping beer and reading newspapers, then take your girlfriend out on Saturday night if she enjoys partying or eating out! Try to step in your partner’s shoes and think like them, for them. Because when you are in a relationship, make your beloved more important than yourself. If he/ she values you the same way, it would be a perfect relationship!

But then in this busy world who has the time to think about someone else when we are anyway too preoccupied with ourselves. So ladies and gents, here lies the problem. We have begun to think that it is easier to fall in love again than trying to make the current relationship work.

As I said, this is certainly not the season for romance. 

What more, on a Wednesday evening, in this pleasant weather, I have nothing better to do than sit in my pyjamas, with oiled hair and a sandalwood pack on my face, and write this blog entry!

Hence, proved! 

A Conversation with a Girl in a Blue- Line Bus

(translated in English)

Me: Where do you get off? (Hoping that she’d name my station or something farther because I did not recognize my station!)

She: Nizzamuddin. You?

Me: Okhla.

SILENCE

She (fiddling with the corner of her lime green synthetic salwar kurta): I like you.

Me: (A bit shocked at this uncalled for admiration)

She: You are not like those other girls who think too high of themselves and stuff earphones in their ears to avoid any conversation. You talk!

Me: (Stuffing my earphones deeper in my purse pocket): Oh. (Smiling uncomfortably) Thank you.. You are .. err.. very nice too.

She: (Smiling brightly): What standard are you in?

Me: (Staring at the black thread on her wrist which had a pretty shell hanging from it at a weird angle): Huh? Oh. I am through with school.

She: Really? What are you doing out of your home, alone in a bus then?

Me: (Wishing for my bed and AC): I am going for work.

She: You work?

Me: Not exactly. I am going for an interview.

She: Government or private? Getting a private job post 12^th is not easy. Infact, now – a – days, government jobs are hard to find.

Me: You are right about that. But I am a graduate.

She: B.A.?

Me: Yup.

She: (looking at me with renewed awe): Then you are sure to get this job. What sort of work is it?

Me: Um.. It is hard to explain. I work for TV companies or newspapers or radio. Do you understand?

She: (Stares at me, blinks and looks away)

Me: (Feeling mighty awkward that I had made her uncomfortable). What do you do?

She: (Looking extremely proud and happy): I have just given my 10^th standard exams.

Me: (Relieved at the change of topic): Great. So Delhi Darshan?

She: Yes. (Flicks her long braid forward, unties her red ribbon and reties it). My brother is taking us to Ajmer to meet our uncle’s mama’s sister.

Me: Oh. So where are you from?

She: Hampi. Madhya Pradesh.

Me: Oh. Yes. I have heard of it in our geography lessons.

She: Geography?

Me: Anyway. So how long have you been in Delhi?

She: Oh, we have seen everything. We came at 7 in the morning. Went to Jama Masjid and then visited Red Fort. It is so boring. Red - red everywhere no?

Me (Big fan of old buildings): Mm-hm. (Looking for a change of topic) So, you and your brother are sight – seeing today, eh?

She: No, no. Me, my eldest brother, my two sister and 4 step – siblings as well.

Me (shocked into silence, trying to find my voice): Umm.. wow, that is some picnic I must say.

She: How many brothers and sisters do you have?

Me: I have an elder sister.

She: And?

Me: And that’s it.

She: What? No brothers?

Me: No. Just us two sisters.

She: Your dad never remarried?

Me: What? No! I mean, by God’s grace both my parents are very much alive and together!

She (Somewhat apologetically and confused): Oh, I thought your mother would have… My mother died 

when I was 3 years old. My father remarried and so …

Me: Oh.

(SILENCE)

Me: You should visit Qutub Minar too. And the zoo as well, it is a lot of fun! The Purana Qila is also nearby:

She (Not so interactive anymore): My brother will not agree. Besides, we are taking the train back to Ajmer today from Nizamuddin.

An old man with a long salt – and – pepper beard came along and tapped the girl in a very un-gentlemanly fashion on her shoulder and moved on. He was trailed by quite a long queue of boys and girls of all ages in similar bright coloured synthetic clothes. The girls had a lot of bling on their salwar – kameez and all the boys wore identical skull caps.

She: My stop is here. It was extremely nice talking to you. You are a pretty girl.

Me: (Blushing slightly out of habit): Thank you. It was wonderful talking to you too. Have a safe journey.

She alighted the bus and waved at me cheerfully. I waved back from the window.

The bus started moving again.