Adios 2009. Hola 2010!

Looking back at my loooong list of Resolutions that I’d laid down for this year, I can safely say I haven’t fared all that badly.

For one, I learnt how to drive – not into a ditch or into the pair of wheels ahead – but reasonably well. Cooking however still remains to be an area of skill I haven’t been too ‘driven’ towards.

I also got married – not that it was on my list of Resolutions. But since that is the single most extraordinarily life-altering thing that I’ve done to date, I thought I ought to give it a worthy mention here...

Grew my nails. Finally! They were long at the wedding. Ha!

Didn’t change my job. How’s that for longevity and commitment!

Exercised – tick. Went a step further – despite everyone’s surprise, pleated with shock – went ahead and participated in this time’s Marathon. Now that is one huge tick!

Didn’t exactly give up junk food, but yeah – those days of being surrounded by takeaway food menus are a thing of the past, I can safely say. Maggi too – an eternal dinner companion, has graciously stepped aside from a daily to a weekly / fortnightly treat….

I also decided that variety was the name of the game – and have deigned to download new songs instead of song-bingeing on the same Metallica numbers (though it is to be noted that they are still by far the best of the lot).

Knocked down the sarcasm factor a teeny-weeny bit, and went ahead to do my share in letting people smile rather than making them hang their heads in mute shame…Tee hee…couldn’t resist the last bit.

Now makeup –that needs to be knocked down a tad. But we’re getting there, aren’t we..? Perfumes – a total of 6 luxury fumes bought this year – that doesn’t even average into one per month. So I’m thumping my tail wildly with joy…Haven’t ODed on facewashes, clips, nail enamels, or wet face wipes. Creams and gum – uhmmm – getting there, getting there! Have some patience!

Didn’t’ learn French. Or any other language for that matter. Did visit France though. Broke bread there. Broke into sighs at the stores on Champs Elysees. Tasted their super wine. Fell in love with the place. They don’t call it the most romantic / fashionable place in the world for nothing! Paris – I’m coming back again – for sure…

Post-marriage, our room, while it won’t make the cut in an edition of the ‘Spic and Span’ magazine, will not get a mention in the ‘Piggiest of them all’ either. So that’s good…

Wore the caps I’ve been meaning to wear for quite sometime. Despite the amused look that TOOMA gives me each time I don one. Of course, it helped that till a couple of days back, I was in chilly Shimla - where everyone wears caps...

Other things I’ve been good at:

- Haven’t cussed rude people in a while. Supremely ignored the crass souls.
- Just smile benignly when anyone comments upon another girl college being better than my own. God bless ignorance!
- Now give my previous Cosmo issues away…much to the delight of P, our household help.
-Get ready post-shower in under ten minutes.
- Don’t guffaw uncontrollably at people who look dressed for a Punjabi wedding, even though they are at a mall.
- Watched quite a few good moves with TOOMA…And embarrassed him by repeating corny dialogues, thankfully in private, much to his relief.
- Completely stopped wearing wrinkled, un-ironed clothes. God bless P…
- Reduced my chances of being the top contender at who-texted-the-most-in-2009 contest. No regrets!
- Learnt new jokes. Shared them too.
- Didn’t relapse into being a chimney.
- Took my name off from the most-likely-to-be-put-into-therapy-for-whining list (remove ‘h’ from the underlined word)
- Learnt Excel. All those pivots, importing, conditional formatting, etc suddenly look less intimidating..
- Shot pictures – more than a plentiful share.
- And lastly – kept to what I love – Blogging!

Things I’ve not been so good at:

- Sending pictures to my Mum is not the same as writing letters to her. Will ensure that I write to her too…
- Improving my memory. Three words – my memory sucks! Clueless how to better it. Have been popping almonds and olives for quite a while now.
- Watching TV. While this would probably be on the things not to do list of people, for me, it should be on my to-do list. At least sometimes. There are some pretty good things they show nowadays, besides the tears-stained-cheeked soap actresses and starlets in dragging reality shows.
- Still haven’t gone around to getting a white Tee. Someday. Someday…

For 2010, the Resolutions are just a handful:

1. Learn a language or a musical instrument
2. Visit a place with five letters
3. Go Camping / for another all girl’s trip
4. Learn how to cook. Nothing fancy. No elaborate seven course meal. Simple fare would do. Thank you
5. Stick to a budget
6. Be less grumpy
7. Get an annual check-up with TOOMA
8. Conquer an unmentionable fear
9. De-stress at a spa once a quarter
10. Switch jobs

Let’s see how I fare this coming year. Happy New Year everyone!

A Baker's Dozen of couples

Take a look around - couples are aplenty – walking hand in hand at the park, learning how to groove to the salsa, grocery-shopping, at the mall, at clubs, sweating it out in a queue outside the theatre, haggling with the roadside vendor – in short – everywhere.

Yet despite their ubiquity, couples are all different – the Laurel and Hardy sorts, the volcanic and placid sorts, the master-slave sorts, the he / she completes me in everything sorts, the idol and fan sorts, and finally – those who are downright endearing to the exact opposite. This post, however, in true VA style, will not celebrate the saccharine sweetness of the charming types, focusing instead on some of the more exasperating specimens – the ones you feel like sending to a Finishing school – at their expense, of course.

Without any further ado, let’s look at some types that put the A in ‘Annoying’…

 The cat and dog fighters – they give a whole new meaning to love – loving looks are replaced by glares, smiles are replaced by smirks, sweet nothings are replaces by nasty adjectives, caresses are replaced by painful jabs in the middle – you get the drift, don’t you. Looking at them you wonder why they are even together in the first place, since they look they would be more at peace if they would drive a stake through each other’s hearts. If they had to make a movie on themselves, it would in all probability, be called ‘Conflict Zone’

 The Shrink’s Delight – This is not the name of a diet ice-cream. These couples have absolutely no qualms about pouring perfectly good money into the hands of yet another gleeful counsellor. They believe that therapy is the solution to all their problems – big and small. So be it what breed of dog to buy, to what they should name their child – they hop over to the nearest counsellor, who nods his head, clucks his tongue sympathetically, rests his chin patiently on his elbow, has that faraway, thoughtful look on his face while he listens to them rapt in attention….and after the cathartic hour has passed, guffaws at their expense (pun intended) when the couple walks away

 The Social Networking Relationshippers – If you are a social networking retard, chances are – you wouldn’t know that X was dating Y. Such couples are prime examples of people who get into a relationship, or worse, pretend to be in one, just so they can update their relationship status on their FB, Twitter, Orkut, MySpace, Wayn, and Hi5 accounts.
Sample the following series of events:
Date: December 15, 2009
X: Relationship status – single
(December 16 – X in a gym. Goes towards water cooler. Bumps into Random guy – Y. Y smiles awkwardly, mouthing a hasty 'I'm sorry.' Offers full cup of water as way of apology to X. needless to say - X is ecstatic)
Date: December 16, 2009
X: Relationship status – committed
(Smileys rub shoulders with each other. He’s the One’ shrieking in bold, red lettering. Not to be missed – the dripping blood-red string of hearts

 The Joined at the hip couple – barring the odd trip to the loo, they do everything together (though I have a strong suspicion that if society didn’t frown upon members of the opposite gender going into gender-specified restrooms, they wouldn’t have given it a miss). Faithful to a fault, they would do a sleuth proud, shadowing each other in perfect, dizzying harmony. Sandwiches are broken into two, morsels fed lovingly to each other, glasses of lemonade are downed in simultaneous sips – I have a feeling they also synchronize their...tch tch – dirty fellas – I was talking about them synchronizng their breathing – sheesh! Filthy minds can only think of one thing!

 The PDA champions – an exposed wrist is all that they need to begin the drooling, dribbling routine. They don’t believe in playing footsie under the table – anything subtle is not for them. They fit more in the flaunt-it-to-all-and-sundry compartment. Even if you are six tables away from them, you can’t help but notice the aggressive tongue hockey they engage in – it’s a wonder the bartender who’s serving them, can keep a straight face.

 The Shakes-peer queers – if it’s a book, chances are they’ve turned its pages. According to them, there is no other more well-read couple than them on the planet. And they have no qualms of turning up their cultured noses at the lesser mortals who engage in frivolous reading, or worse – no reading at all. No conversation in the attendance of these couples is complete without some soul-baring experience which they narrate copiously, till your eyes start drooping all by themselves

 The we-can’t-help-but-be-accomplished couple – Now this is one couple you don’t want to risk meeting, unless you are a masochist, out to get a deliberate beating in self worth and esteem. They nonchalantly drop titbits of information about how the Cabinet Minister insists on coming for their Sunday brunch, how next week they'd have to cancel plans wth you as they would be fundraising for the Make a Wish Foundation with the CEO of the oh-so-hot-right-now MNC. His business proposal has been accepted at London, and now Bummer - he has to purchase woollens for his one-month stay there (maybe the Dorchester, where he usually bumps into his good friend - Liz Taylor, will have wollens in their clothes outlet). Meanwhile, wifey - would be de-stressing after her new restaurant opening with her friends, who include a reigning beauty queen, a spa owner, the top buyer from Harrods, and the Director of an international cosmetics brand. They make everything sound so apologetically sweet and casual, that you feel disgusted at yourself for wanting them both to choke on the matching Hermes scarves they wear

 The Cutesy name caller couples – their conversation goes somewhat like this –
‘She - Munchkin, would you get me a Fruit Punch please?
He – Of course, honey bun.
She - Oh you would, cuddle muffin?
He - Anything for you – my Snuggle Bunny.
She - Thanks, dumpling. Mwahhs.
He – Mwahhs. Be right back, Pooky Pooky. ’While they expect you to go ‘Awwww, they’re cho chweet,’ the only expression that comes on your face is one of wide-eyed disbelief, followed soon by sheer disgust.

 The Sloshed couple – The first letter of the English alphabet is ‘A’ – and instead of the fruit that we associate it with, they have replaced it with a more pungent, and giving-more-kick-than-fruit - Alcohol. Hic hic. Serving liquor in their midst is like keeping a bunch of bananas in front of apes. Literally speaking, alcohol makes them ‘Go Bananas.’ Two hours later – let’s just say that to get them home, you need an animal van, some tranquilizer, a can of strong room freshener, a fresh pair of clothes, and a very patient driver who doesn’t need to be pointed out where they live. You want to steer clear of this couple ata party, unless you fantasize about becoming a babysitter to two grown adults...

 The Sober sorts – the exact opposites of the kind above, they are so squeaky clean, a vodka would blush in front of them, and try to drown by itself in a liter of water. Self righteous to the core, they cross their arms and arch their eyebrows, tut-tutting and frowning upon any kind of intoxication. If you weren’t such a rigid bull, you would have by now thrown away that ‘evil’ pack of B&H Lights, after dipping it in that ‘equally wicked’ pilsner of beer.

 The matchmaker sorts – if by some stroke of ill-luck they come to know that you are a singleton, they would decide to take you under their wing – alternating between reasons why you should be in a relationship (no matter how bad), narrating nasty little stories about the single owner whose cat ate him / her up and the body was found by the sweeper, and setting you up with hideous people who you can only imagine came straight out of your niece’s book on nightmares and scary creatures.

 The Been-there-done-that couple – Going for bungee jumping? Try the one in Ticino. Fancy a spa – you should go to Phuket, and use their name for a discount. Getting a membership at the golf club? Yeah – it’s nice, they got it two years back. Yawnnn! Anything new? Anything that you do or are planning to do – they’ve already done that – adventure sports, luxury vacations, cruises, club memberships, rally driving - and you would of course, do well to ‘benefit’ from their sound bytes. Smug little twits they are – but of course, they were only ‘trying to help.’ After all, what are ‘friends’ for..?

 The laughing at their own jokes couple – agreed, we all have our own secrets, codes and jokes. But these couples take it to the hilt – in the middle of conversation, they will look at each other, nudge and shake with uncontrollable laughter, while all the time you are itching to know the joke. Of course they won’t tell you, and just when you have resigned yourself to nobody status, there they are at it again – laughing yet again at another inside joke which you are totally clueless about/

I’m wondering, which of these TOOMA and I fall in. And which kinds of couples have I missed out on.

Eitherwhichways, care to answer? I’d love to hear your say...

Fear Factory

What would it feel to have a gun to your head?

Not a routine question, I’d say.

Now, lest my asking the above question gets me a permanent spot in the sadist bracket, let me spell out that this is just some rudimentary digging by me into assessing which other scenarios are equally sweaty-palm inducing and downright terrifying for people.

So while it could be a seemingly innocuous lobster floating in a sea of sauce for a sworn vegan, it could be the mention of death to someone who is horrified at thinking of what lies beyond this mortality.

Some others too traipse behind…

A set of panic-stricken parents – their child, a habitual returner from school at half past two, is no where in sight. And the clock just struck three. Worse – the offspring’s phone is unreachable.

For some, it could be the very thought of being friendless and alone. For others, it could be the slow, haunting music that creeps up in a horror / thriller flick – right before the bloodcurdling scream...By the way, you might want to check that curtain behind you….

I can imagine I would be all cold and dripping with perspiration if I were to look out of the window at night and see an intruder trying to break into the house. Armed with a shiny object, which I was sure, wasn’t a gift for me….

Any talk of putting on weight could perhaps make shivers run down the bone for an athlete, a deliberately-anorexic woman, or for the flight attendant who could lose his / her job if the pounds were to add up.

A perfectly radiant teenager’s face could turn pale when his parents announce that they would return from the wedding in the suburbs late night. While being a teenager had its own advantages, one thing you couldn’t possibly ask was a babysitter. The adolescent couldn’t fathom being alone in the huge brick structure they called home – demons of the past haunted him, and worse – it was already dusk? He was a confirmed nyctophobe – terrified of the dark, much like his idols Megan Fox and JLo, but much too embarrassed to admit it to his folks.

Some people’s hands get clammy when they are intimated that they would be flying to another city for the upcoming conference. Give them an option to take the train, and despite the over two-day long journey, they would do so – such is their aversion and fright of flying.

A model wrings her hands nervously while watching a feature on her – the journo has done his homework thoroughly and would, any minute now, spill the beans that what she claimed as her natural body frame, was in fact the work of a reputed LA plastic surgeon.

Hair woes. A woman somewhere cups her face in her hands, moaning – she’s spotted her first grey strand amongst her otherwise full crop of blacks. Let’s concede - at least her eye-sight was flawless!

Another ha(i)rried soul looks despairingly at his reflection in the wall-mounted mirror – his thinning pate is only getting worse by the so-called miracle hair-boosting vitamins that the pricey hair clinic had suggested him.

A father-to-be spends anxious moments outside the OT, striding nervously, sweating profusely despite the controlled inside temperature. An additional doctor has been summoned to make an emergency entry into what was supposed to be a routine delivery. Ten minutes had never seemed so long…

Thanks to the MD’s missed flight, the VP of the company is asked to address a few hundred people about the business benefits of a new strategy. Despite a kickass memory which remembers every minute detail from the review document, he can scarcely bring himself to speak – such is his fear of public speaking. Between battling with a hostile army and a cold audience, he would rather combat the former.

A 20-something, despite his rushing adrenaline and unmistakable swagger, cannot bring himself to plummet down the cliff as his friends did nonchalantly. Digging his nails into his palms, he sends up a silent prayer above, while people fidget behind him in line impatiently.

Another – an until-recently gleeful bachelor treasures the last few days he has, until he has to hand over his life to the girl who has taken the reins, making him trot smartly towards the mini-handcuffed version of prison, often termed matrimony. His T-shirt gets drenched as he decides what to make of his few remaining days of freedom…

An anxious girl sends up a silent prayer above each morning that the terrible secret she’s harboured all these ears – does not reach the ears of her unforgiving family.

An otherwise easy-going, gum-chewing corporate executive stares gloomily at the calendar. In a few months he would hit the dreaded 40 mark. The date loomed red in front of him – so much so that he could only spot his date of birth on the floral calendar.

A famous closet queer, caught schmoozing his same gender partner at a glitzy party, is paranoid that the next day’s city supplement might fall into the hands of his extra-conservative parents. All hell was sure to follow, especially with a Hitler prototype ex-defence Colonel as a father. Since prayers for the next day’s paper getting misplaced sounded a tad hollow, he decided to take things into his own hands. Despite returning from the party in the wee hours of the morning, he remembers to set his alarm – to do what needed to be done – waylaying the newspaper vendor and ensuring that the paper got flushed…

A politician, considered honest and holier-than-thou, fears that he would lose face, and more importantly, his adulating vote bank, if news of his alleged involvement in the flesh trade leaked out – thanks to the work of an assiduous – read snoopy - reporter. Even though the incident happened donkeys years back, and his level of involvement was only ‘alleged,’ he doubted if he would ever save face if it came out..

Everyone, everywhere fears something or the other. It could be the unthinkable, the unspeakable, the unimaginable, or something from one’s forgettable past.

So, what do you dread?

Two wrongs don't make a right

What can I say about people who, whether intentionally or otherwise, point you in the opposite direction from your intended destination?

That they are evil. Besides being inaccurate, of course. The irony is that some genuinely want to help – but fail, despite their noblest of intentions...

Could it be perhaps that bred in an urban culture that considers not offering to ‘help’ an improper and impolite mannerism, people look up and down the street, eyebrows knitted in concentration, and then point out along the road that looks fairer? You smile at them, acknowledging that they stopped whatever they were doing – driving, riding, walking, reading the newspaper, eating talking – to give you directions, and along you go...

The only hitch – they were clueless. But would sooner eat a hat than admit it that they have no idea where house number xxx on avenue 123 along street XIV was located.

Which explains why after the seventh right bend, you are where you started, or worse even further from where you wanted to be. A poultry farm stares you in the face instead of the house you had to visit. Guttural sounds of disgust do nothing to relieve your state of mind...And to think that you thought the chap knew what he was talking about.

Are we that conditioned to believe that not knowing something as trivial as a site location is a sign of inadequacy, a limiting factor, an Achilles’ Heel? Does not knowing the way to a certain locale make us insufficient and cause us to question our own competence?

Going a step further – those who create their own directions. These are a seriously malevolent one. One look at your harried face and perspiring brow – and voila! They have found a simpleton - willing victim, pardon the colloquialism – a ‘bakraa’ - for their sick humor. As soon as you push off on the deliberately-sent-upon-wrong-route, they burst into raucous guffaws, while you, all too oblivious to their perversity…till a few blocks later. By then, it’s too late – for your appointment.

As well as for you to lay your hands on the chortling scoundrel!

The only consolation – you escaped being tried for cold murder by an unsympathetic judge.