A life dictated by my blood. They taught me, though,
That it, like everything else in the world,
Like the red joba that nestled in the corner
Of the marbled terrace where I took my first steps,
Is a construct.
And being a construct, like everything else,
Like the photo of Babaji my grandmother
Encircled with flowing smoke from glowing dhoops,
It means nothing, not really.
Bengali. But the words,
Didn't form themselves on my tongue; the script,
Did not flow. It was slowly, painfully etched,
Only to be slashed with red ink,
Followed by a whisper of shame.
I turned with relief to the obscurity of Auden,
Who should have felt alien,
But didn't. Rather, a friend, not an easy one,
But the kind who throws light on your shadows,
Over steaming cups of tea.

The stories run through my veins: the old house in Purulia,
With mango trees that the old people climbed
When their legs were something like mine.
But the story of the ankle of Achilles is familiar,
As familiar, more familiar. And it carries me
Away on the backs of night clouds,
Faster, more furious, than even the swiftness,
The legendary swiftness,
Of Arjun's arrow.
I spring to attention because I was taught to at school,
When the proud strains of that proud song is sung.
And it belongs to me.
But so does the front seat of that double decker bus,
That speeds through the famous road,
That has no trees,
Not one.

Whinewhinewhine.

Living alone isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Like today, for instance, it's already 6 pm, and I'm still stuck at work, because there's a lot of work, and then I have to grocery shop, because I have no food at home, and then I have to go home and clean my apartment because I had people over on Friday (I am never having people over again) and the place is currently a disaster zone, and I cope with disasters by avoiding them until I can't avoid them, and I coped with this particular disaster by spending the weekend at my brother's.

But I can't put it off any longer. I have to clean. I have to sweep the floors, and then wash them, and clean the bathroom, and do the dishes, and also probably clean the fridge because it smells of garlic, and change my bed sheets otherwise I will get acne. (My mother knows my weaknesses and so chose to share this information with me.)

And I don't want to spend my hard earned money on yogurt and mushrooms and bananas, man, I want to spend it on beer, but I can't spend it on beer, because I should be consuming yogurt and mushrooms and bananas because I am a responsible adult now.

And I don't want to be a fatty.

FAAAAAAAAK.

You know what I'm going to do to make myself feel better about all this?

I'm going to clean my apartment naked. That's right, I'll be naked.

Because I can. I can roam around naked. I can sleep naked. That is one of the advantages of living alone. Actually, I'll go a step further.  I will roll myself a joint, and smoke the joint, while cleaning in a state of nudity.

(A far cry from when I'm at home in Calcutta, forced to smoke bloody cigarettes with my head stuck outside the bathroom window.)

Okay, I feel better now.

My First Domestic Disaster. (Spoiler: It wasn't my fault.)

So a couple of mornings after I got home from Calcutta (what an amazing time I had there by the way; I'd forgotten it holds so many people that I love), I was doing the usual pre-work routine. This is a long and complicated process, involving drinking hot water and lemon, doing a couple of feeble push ups, drinking half a cup of coffee, taking a ten minute nap, drinking the second half, attempting to simultaneously create breakfast and lunch...I could go on, but I won't, I'll get to the point instead.

Anyway, I finally reached the part of my routine that is spent having a bath. So I have this weird habit where I shower and also fill a bucket of ice cold water at the same time to pour over my head towards the end of the bath - if my shower isn't a power shower which mine isn't.

So I turn the tap to fill the bucket and - IT WASN'T MY FAULT - the tap came off in my hand. A jet of water flew at me, and it kept flying, spraying me in the face, and oh god, I thought, why me, why me, why me. 

I didn't panic though. I'm used to things falling apart in my hands and necessity has taught me to be quite good at fixing said things. But this refused to be fixed. No matter how desperately I tried screwing the tap back in, the pressure of the water kept pushing it out again.

"COME ON, MOTHERF***ER!" I yelled.

"Please, please, dear tap, go back in." I pleaded.

"Oh why won't the Universe helllllllllp me?" I sobbed.

The Universe never helps me. I had to call my landlord instead. He immediately sent the guard who shoved it back into place and told me it would hold temporarily. Temporarily was right. The damn tap flew off five minutes after he left and the entire scenario started all over again - except, naturally, it was worse this time round, as these things usually are.

My landlord wasn't picking up his phone, there was no sign of the guard who I can't communicate with anyway, except through ape-like gestures, since he only speaks Tamil. And the damn water wouldn't stop. So for the next forty minutes, I kept collecting it in a bucket and then throwing it down the loo, and then waiting for it to re-fill again.

Unfortunately, during one of these bucket-filling sessions, I failed to notice that the tap had managed falling into the bucket. I only noticed when I poured the water into the loo, and - oh, agonizing moment of horror - saw the tap going down the loo as well. And there was no way to get it back. It had gone, gone, gone.

What happens when a tap goes down the toilet? I didn't know then, but it definitely couldn't have been good. I rallied by telling myself it was a stupid tap that had no business falling off in the first place and that it deserved to be flushed.

And then, of course, the guard landed up. We didn't actually have the following conversation, on account of how - as previously mentioned - we don't have a language in common, so just imagine this in gestures.

Guard: Oh shit.

Me: Damn right.

Guard: Where's the tap? I'll screw it back on with tape.

Me: It's gone down the toilet.

Guard: *Makes the universal crazy-person gesture*

And then at this point, my shower suddenly decided to join  the fun and began raining on him.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, the bathroom was flooded, the guard and I were soaking wet, the landlord's son landed up, asked me where the tap was as well, looked at me in disbelief upon hearing the answer, peered suspiciously into my toilet, tried fixing the tap, managed making everything worse, and they had to cut the entire building's water supply for a few hours.

Welcome to the neighbourhood, Trisha.





PS For the record, it seriously wasn't my fault. One of the pipes broke. And I also missed a morning at work, and sent my boss photos to prove that I was telling the truth so my salary didn't get cut. Which just goes to show - everything does have a silver lining.

I'M GOING HOME TOMORROW!
AND IT'S THE END OF THE YEAR!
AND A NEW YEAR IS GOING TO START!
AND A NEW YEAR IS ALWAYS AWESOME BECAUSE THERE HASN'T BEEN TIME FOR BAD STUFF TO HAPPEN YET!
(Unless my plane is engulfed in fiery flames which is just going to suck.)

Oh wait, I'm being positive and happy and jolly these days.

Here is something positive and happy and jolly for you:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/cutest-things-that-happened-this-year?bffb

Happy New Year. Don't fuck it up. But if you must, do it with flair. :)

A long-winded documentation of my first Christmas away from home.

7.30 am. Wake up and realize it's Christmas Day. Think of Bridget Jones' Diary - "Woke up to the usual adult disappointment of having no Christmas presents at the foot of my bed" or some such thing. Empathize heartily - not for the first time - with Bridget. Spend a few precious moments remembering past Christmases and revel in feeling sorry for myself. And then the feeling dawns on me: my first Christmas alone in my own home. It's a Moment and Moments, as opposed to moments, must not be wasted.

7.40 am. Put on some Christmas music and fix myself a cup of coffee. Look at coffee. Look at rum bottle next to coffee. Hey, it's Christmas! Pour a generous helping of rum into coffee. Take a sip. Look at honey. Add some honey. Then more rum to balance it out. Doesn't taste much like coffee anymore.

7.50 am. Stand on balcony with my rum coffee and take obnoxious 'selfie' to send my mother with the immortal caption 'Merry Christmas'. Enjoy the warm sun and feel glad to be alive and all that jazz. On a more serious note, it's a very beautiful day and I decided to walk to my brother's house when I go over for lunch. It'll take me an hour but what the heck. I'm that kind of person now. I spontaneously go on long walks.

8.30 am. Smoke a leftover joint and watch Big Bang Theory. Laugh uproariously.

8.35 am. Push ups to Deck the Halls. Fa la la la la.

8.36 am. Crawl into bed. Push ups have exhausted me. Decide to call my father. There's no way in hell my mother will be awake right now.

8.40 am. Father also asleep. Evidently went through too much vodka last night. Feel smug and self-satisfied because I am not hungover. Followed by a fleeting stab of disappointment. Instead have long conversation with PM. She always cheers me up.

9.00 am. Nap time. It's been a long morning.

9.45 am. Nap interrupted by mother who wishes me Happy Christmas. Comments that I appear to have lost a lot of weight going by the photo I sent her. More smugness and self-satisfaction follow. Not knowing how to cook apparently has its advantages.

10.30 am. Pack presents. This is no mean feat. Presents for SIL, Rita Mom, CK, Lana and Tiny. No wrapping paper left over for my brother which is okay because I haven't picked up his present yet.

10.45 am. Consider doing the dishes and sweeping home before my departure. But it's Christmas. So no. Have shower instead. Examine naked self in mirror. Decide that I would totally sleep with myself and self-esteem for the day is established.

11.30 am. Finally leave house. No time to walk to my brother's. Suspect my subconscious made me delay for this precise reason. Father finally calls. Speak to him, regaling him with the merry tale of my Christmas morning. Damn autowallah takes the opportunity to add an extra kilometer to the journey.

11.45 am. Beautiful day. Morning Has Broken is the first song to play on my shuffle. (I should explain here that I have a game where when I leave the house in the morning, it's going to be a good day if I get a nice line up of songs. If Morning plays, it's going to be a great day. And today, it was the first song to play. Universe on my side.)

11.50 am. Stop at Spencer's. Buy peanut butter and Nutella for my brother. Momentarily consider keeping the Nutella for myself and giving him peanut butter only, but the generous, selfless spirit traditionally associated with Christmas prevails.

12.30 pm. Reach my brother's. Hugs all around. Dogs don't seem to notice that I don't live there anymore. Or they don't really care. As long as they're fed, they're happy. Find a festive sort of spirit prevailing the house, mostly because of the tree, the delicious smell of pork wafting from the kitchen, and because I carry the Christmas spirit with me wherever I go. Feeling cemented when Rita Mom begins pouring wine into the trifle, and SIL mixes some vodka with jelly for jello shots later.

2.00 pm. LUNCH. Most excellent because I'd forgotten to eat breakfast and all the various intoxicants consumed by this point were making me feel a little light headed. The menu for lunch: pork vindaloo, pasta, bread, rounded off by the delicious wine soaked trifle. The four of us - brother, SIL, Rita Mom and myself - gather around the table. Conversation is limited. We all believe in eating first and talking not much. Dogs beg for food. Dogs get food. Rita Mom a little upset that my brother insists on feeding them some pork. Brother retorts that Rita Mom just wants the pork to herself. Rita Mom doesn't deny this. I suggest opening the Christmas presents.

2.30 pm. Christmas presents exchanged. Brother feeling ever so slightly guilty because he hasn't got me anything. He covers this up by saying he gave me a rent-free house to live in for four months. I beatifically agree, pointing out that I haven't reproached him at all. (I know how to handle him so well now, haha.) I know he will make it up to me at some point and he does.

3.00 pm. I have pork, pasta, trifle, wine and weed spilling out of my ears. Time for a nap.

3.30 pm. Difficult to nap with the damn dogs playing Leap Frog over me. Yes, I am the Frog.

5.00 pm. Skype various family members. They all look happy. I don't grudge them their happiness because - I realize with a start - I am happy too.

6.00 pm. Two of my brother's friends drop in. So does a doctor because my brother has a congested chest and Rita Mom is paranoid. While my brother talks to the doctor, I entertain the friends. One friend is forced to go out with SIL to pick up medicine. I'm not sure what to do with the other one so I get him stoned. Delightful.

8.00 pm. Everyone has gone home. I should too but there are those damn dishes waiting for me. I decide to stay the night. Also, my brother does - as I knew he would - something nice for me in the spirit of Christmas. He orders me a Corner House sundae. It is delightful and decadent. It has brownies and ice cream and whipped cream and hot fudge and peanuts. I begin to eat.

8.05 pm. I stop eating because I notice I've finished half the sundae in five minutes. I put the rest away in the fridge. I'll eat it tomorrow, I tell myself. I don't want to give myself a stomachache. I feel proud of this sign of mature adulthood.

8.15 pm. Damn mature adulthood. I finish the rest of the sundae.

8.45 pm. Agony. I'm dying. I stagger into my brother's room. He warns me that he will not be taking me to hospital at 3 in the morning. SIL gives me some disgusting tablets to chew. Death begins to look just slightly further away. Although I always carry it with me as we all do.

9.15 pm. SIL tells me delightful story about how my brother's friend - Hitesh - didn't realize we weren't 'full' siblings. Hitesh apparently thought I was Rita Mom's daughter. Upon SIL informing him that my brother and I share one parent - as opposed to most people sharing two - he was rather taken aback. We all have a good laugh about this.

9.30 pm. I round off a delightful day with a couple more joints and some more Christmas music. And then I stagger to my bed and prepare to fall asleep. Christmas Day has come to an end. Before I drift off, I feel  grateful to my brother and SIL and Rita Mom and the dogs for bringing so much love into my life.

9.40 pm. Stumble to the bathroom. The pills are doing their job. And how.

9.50 pm. Emerge, feeling five kilos lighter. Okay, now the day is done. And it has been unexpectedly wonderful. Because, in a way, I am home for Christmas.

Alright, not really. But whatever. At least I didn't fall out of a car this time.

Merry Christmas, folks. :)

With my rum on Christmas morning. Please take special note of the wording on my mug. 

A self-explanatory photo.

Rita Mom making the delicious trifle.

Family.

The Annual Re-cap.

1. What did you do in 2013 that you'd never done before?

SO MANY THINGS.

- Moved cities because of work.
- Lived in two different cities (not bad).
- Got my first real, official, contract-signed, business card provided job.
- A 'boy' cut. I thought my nose would look bigger. It doesn't. Ha.
- Got myself a sister-in-law. And a brother-in-law. Well, my brother got them for me, but whatever.
- Figured out what I want to do with my life. (For now.)
- Got my own flat and began living alone. And this includes an entire subset of things-I've-never-done-before: cleaned bathrooms and rooms on a daily basis, cooked (I use the term loosely) for myself on a daily basis, haggled over pieces of fruit, etc.
- Learned how to cook. Sort of. It's still a work-in-progress.
- Stopped wearing men's clothing. Mostly.
- Learned to appreciate sushi, sashimi and prawns. Sort of.
- Many, many more things that I can't even begin to remember so ha.


2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

If I remember correctly, I vowed to never be as drunkenly stupid as I was last Christmas. And to be graceful under pressure. I have been drunkenly stupid, but not that drunk and stupid. And I think I've managed being graceful under pressure. Sort of. If snapping and snarling and being volatile count. 

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Nope.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No, thank goodness.

5. What countries did you visit?

None :( But there have been so many new things happening throughout the year, it hasn't bothered me as much as it usually would have. 

6. What would you like to have in 2014 that you lacked in 2013?

Money, money, money. 
Pill. 
And a little more self-familiarity. 


7. What date from 2013 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

I will always remember this year, different parts of this year, because it brought so many changes. My stint with Aleph was a big experience. So was moving to Bangalore. And my brother's wedding which changed the course of my life, sort of. And for love. The good, the bad and the ugly of it. 

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Pretty much achieving whatever I wanted to achieve.

9. What was your biggest failure?

There is something, but my blog is not the place for it. 

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nope.
NO INJURIES. A WHOLE YEAR WITHOUT INJURIES.
This has to be some kind of record. 

11. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

I can think of lots of people - including yours truly.

12. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

Mine. But only sometimes. 

13. Where did most of your money go?

Cigarettes. Alcohol. Autos. 
I wonder if this will ever change. 

14. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Working in Delhi. And then moving to Bangalore. And whenever I got to see Pill. 

15. What song will always remind you of 2013?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRsgZuwf_8 

Er, in a more positive way.
It's complicated.

16. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?

Happier. 

17. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Nothing comes to mind. (That's a good sign, right?)

18. What do you wish you'd done less of?

It would have been nice if I'd been less of a selfish brat. I'm working on it. 



19. How will you be spending Christmas?

For the first time in my life, away from my mother. No trees this year, no presents. So I'm not sure yet. I'll probably blog about it eventually.

20. Did you fall in love in 2013?

No. I've loved someone a lot longer than that. *Obligatory cringe* 

21. How many one night stands?

...

22. What was your favourite TV programme?

Mad Men, probably. 


23. What was the best book you read?

The Art of War. Hahahahahaah. 

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

http://8tracks.com/

25. What did you want and get?

Pretty much everything I asked for.

26. What did you want and not get?

Nothing.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

Um, um, um. Can't think of one.

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 22. Had the usual big birthday party and left for a new life the day after, nursing a massive hangover. 

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Not getting hangovers.

30. What kept you sane?

I don't think anything, or anyone, did this year. But I managed just fine on my own. Progress! 

31. Who was the worst new person you met?

Have I met anyone particularly horrible? No, I don't think so.

32. Who was the best new person you met?

SIL. 


33. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learnt in 2013.

Probably that I'm never ever going to achieve inner peace because I am not the inner peace kind of person so I should just give up and focus on other, more useful things like finding surefire cures for hangovers. 


34. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

No.