Marriedness.

That is 54 days of being married. And 35 days in a new country.

One question I keep getting asked is “How’s married life!” I have tried all sorts of answers- witty to funny to sober to sarcastic and finally we stand at “married life is nothing like being married at all. hahahaha.” Later I figured people ask this question simply because  “How’s sex life!” is against Indian culture. I keep telling husband (i am feeling shy) that I do not feel like I have gotten myself a husband. He nodded and agreed a couple of times “yeah, can’t believe we are married!” After a week of this charade, and yet again me telling him “I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE MARRIED OMGG” during one of my calmest moments, he told me that perhaps wearing the thaali would remind me of being married? The first week that I wore it, the thaali kept falling on my face when I was asleep and I was swatting my face thinking it was a mosquito.

Our wedding was super fun with close friends and family (amounting close to 4000 people only/-) and I had at the least of 10 people telling me that I was a super calm bride. All I had to do was smile at strangers, ask them not to exit the premises without ingesting food, say vanakkam like Nirmala Periyasamy and get excited when people commented on my choice of sari or hairstyle. The groom, not so much. I was told that he was so tensed he could have tied the thaali to his uncle’s neck, which was behind mine.
We had a cool candid photographer who did not ask us to pose at all. There are so many candid photographs floating on Facebook and you can really tell how the picture was taken-  “hey groom, kiss the bride. a little to your left please. hey bride, close your eyes and take it all in. hey paatis, put hands on your mouth and act all shocked. what do you mean you’re not shocked paati? c’mon i insist.” Wonder what is so candid about this & how different it is from the traditional photographers who ask you to pose with the groom’s blazer on your arm, like it is some clothes hanger.

I am taking a poll on the blog, dear readers. And I would really value your advice, after all you’re the stars here.
Every other married person seems to have a blog name for their spouse. How do you suppose I call my husband  for the blog?
A. hugsby
B. chellamechellam (CC)
C. the husband (the husband. the wife. the nonsense. the pet peeve.)
or the most horrifying one of them all-
D. roommate
I really hope for the well-being of our family that he doesn’t read this post.

I am off to bake a cake, take photos of the cake, eat it and watch a situational movie whilst doing so- Thaali Pudusu- starring my all time favorite hero Ramki. ‘Cause that’s what we do.

Mummys and Daddys.

Picture fully intense wedding shopping scene-

Mother: How much is this?
Salesman: 2500.
Mother: Give it for 1000.
Salesman, gobsmacked at mother’s confidence: Medam please, how it will be benefitting me? No medam.
Mother, with smirk: Okay.
And mutters something about how there are a thousand shops in that 30 feet street that will give the price she wants.
Salesman: Medam, please come. I will give. But haan, I am not getting any commission or profit from this.

Same scene, two days ago; but with me. (Sister and I were shopping for bottu/bindi)
Me: How much is this?
Salesman: 55, but give 50.
Me: For this!??? 35.
Salesman: No madam.
Me, muttering: The manufacturing cost of the bindi + cardboard is less than 20 bucks…
The salesman was found staring at a wall with a look of disinterest.
Sister and I proceeded to walk slowly, expecting that he would call us.
Me: Eh! Why isn’t he calling us?
Sister: Don’t try to do mother does.

Mummys are charming. Or…

On the other hand, father is feeling a surge of compassion for fiancé.
Father: I want to throw a bachelors party for him.
Me: Wow, since when did you become so modern and fancy?
Father: I feel like he should celebrate before he marries you. I feel for him.
…and he starts a countdown to my wedding and excitedly updates me each morning about how it’s one day lesser to relief.

Uffffff.

Life is simple.

I read Sita recently. The author has done a great job with the research for the book- very thorough and extensive. I have been in a very brooding “what if this bathroom lizard is a sadhu or rakshasa and pounces on me? will it curse me if I kill it or will it turn into a handsome prince once I touch it?” state of a mind ever since. I have been reading lots and lots of Alexander McCall Smith and am loving it. I want to read more, drinking red bush tea by the cups. (assuming you drink that stuff with milk and loads of sugar.) I also want to call everyone Mma and Rra. Africa is mad cute with all its people and shaminaminayehyehwakawakayehyeh. Kindle Paperwhite is the most useful gadget I have, after the camera. It was a thoughtful (early, very early) wedding present from my friend.

 Seenu continues to give me slight heart murmurs every morning giving me driving lessons in “school zone” and in between multiple tanker lorries. He sees my face all tensed and says, “he will keep honking, you don’t bother.” I think this advice is best suited for kaliyug. And he will choose to talk to me in high tension situations.

“yu aint practising shit at home lady!”

“i aint got no time for your shit hater! hell i aint got no time to even throw a tantrum!”

“ermm okay. get your act togethah soon!”

“mah diddy wants me to wake up at 5 for practise bruhh. do yu understand ma pain!”

Seenu, mellow with sympathetic eyes, diverts topic towards more important things. “How much dowry are you giving? Car/building?”

I was in a diamond workshop recently. I love diamond jewelry. I know the practical theory and all, but looks like no one cares anyway. The diamonds in their naked glory in the workshop didn’t do anything for me. They didn’t even prompt me to steal a couple of them. Pfft. I asked the guy (who I would like to think of as my tour manager) where they source the diamonds from and he said that they get it from Belgium. A million things running in my head,  “what do you mean you don’t send Surya to Africa to get the diamonds by sticking them on Aquafina bottles to get away from customs?!” By the time the visuals could end, mother was heard saying “Are you planning to start diamond business? Why are you bothering him?”

I have been a total bridezilla for the last two weeks. I am unable to handle myself anymore. Happaah.

Me: Don’t know where my life is headed. What is the meaning of life after all?

My engagee: I think you are hungry, you must eat stat.

Me: (smiling, like I’ve figured out the meaning of life) You’re right. I haven’t eaten anything since morning.

Another instance-

Me: What am I going to do with my life? What is the meaning of life after all?

Him: Baby, you have been up for a long time now. Please sleep.

Me: Correct. Good night!

In that, I am comforted that I am marrying the right man.

This is what it was all about.

Kiss to all those who missed me. Kick to all those who did not. -Sri Sri Sri Kamaal R Khan

In all this time that I haven’t blogged, I completed Masters degree and moved to India. The trip to India was so eventful and stressful- you are sure to find a few grey hair here and there in my otherwise black head if you look. I have recounted the story many times to many people, sometimes even in Hindi. Otherwise, life has been amazing. I turned 24 last month.. and no quarter-life crises yet! I am learning to drive a car to get a license, learning French (bon jour! j’aime la nourriture!), designing a sari, making excuses to skip exercising, drinking filter coffee by the liter, and pinterest-ing furiously. I even gave myself a (shabby) French manicure. I am considering joining a “laughing class” next. 

OMGzzz Happy New year, comrades. I cannot simply blog and not blog about the interesting people I have met. I was in a queue at the Passport office today to straighten out a few things in my passport. There was a lady behind me who tapped my shoulder and asked something. By the time I could reply, her 4(?) y.o made way for his hands in between my legs and started to cavort. I am not sure if my bright blue colored tights was too attracting for him, like the Khap panchayat would say. Then comes my driving instructor. He is a young chap in his early twenties, who is really good at what he does. On the first day, he was teaching me the anatomy of a car. “You put your foot either on the brake or the accelerator. Do not put like this.” and proceeds to take his leg and put it horizontally on both, brake and accelerator. All that raw talent. I was stifling hard giggles as Seenu continued his dos and don’ts. I doubt he has a driver’s license. Then there’s my 7y.o nephew who has incense sticks for friends. Stuff  Manu Joseph novels are made of. Tailor, who will call me at 10:30 in the night to ask a doubt in the blouse design. And he knows and speaks only in Hindi. Full comedy.

Being at home means that I have an almost regulated sleep pattern now. No matter what time I go to sleep, I am up by 7:30am because of pigeons and their incessant mating noises. I hate pigeons. I HATE them. I don’t even hate cockroaches and lizards, but these creatures must be banned and become extinct. All this mental torture has led to soft nightmares these days. Featuring Iyengar aunties who always smell of butter/ghee/oil, and accidents where I am always the savior of 100 people, and take it easy at the lost  limb or arm like I have only lost ten rupees; to give you a sample.

I am getting married in two months! It hasn’t sunk in yet, I don’t think it will even two months after the wedding. People must realize it’s unpleasant to ask “so are you feeling jittery?” “how can you get married so early?” “oh my god, your life!” on a regular basis. I do not have jitters. I have exciters, if there is such a thing. I cannot wait to be married. And this is what I tell them, who look at me like a crazy puppy. And others who gush about how much I am in love. The latter almost cancels all of the former. 

Please send your blessings, 101 Rs containing envelopes, wall clocks and Ganesha statues my way, dears.

I’d like to thank God and…

Aarya tagged me with the Leibster Award. Aww, thank you so much! It has been a while since I got any award (IRL or for the blog. Pch) and this has also been a good way to kick my laziness out. Thank you again Aarya, and please don’t be mad if I don’t follow the rules. (I never do) You have already tagged the people I read.

1. What does your name mean?

My blog name is what father calls me. It has nothing to do with my singing abilities. We as a family, like to give people names. My actual name is a star, according to Hindu astrology. For some reason, I think, my undergrad HOD loved me because of my name. I bunked his Financial Accounting class once (one of the many times). He got really mad at me the next day for missing the knowledge impartment and was livid because I didn’t share the thirst for Accounting that he had. “Why were you absent amma?” “I was sick, sir.” With one hand on his forehead and the other hand towards me, “Do you know what your name means? Do you know how auspicious it is? Do you know how many stars are there? Do you know their names?” He proceeded to name all the 27 stars of the Hindu astrology with his eyes tightly closed, and wiped the sweat off his forehead when he was done. The whole class was stunned at this heated exuberance. This is also why I like my name.

 2. What are your hobbies? 

When I was a kid, I used to write to Gokulam a lot. I spent all the money my parents gave me on comics and 1 rupee coconut burfi in the same shop. I exaggerated my hobbies for the penpal section. We all know how it ended. Let’s face it, no one wants to hear “watching tv”. It always was “collecting antique coins”, “watching leaves dry and peacock feathers multiply in my books” and such like. But my real hobby is doing nothing and whiling away time. I also like to cook. A lot. And clicking pictures. Most of all, I love learning new things and DIY stuff.

3. According to you, what was the driving force that let you into the blogging world?

An internet connection? I love how I can write what I like without any obligation. I made some lovely (and some creepy) friends because of the blog and I love them!

4. What was the most recent compliment you’ve received and savored?

I have taken to cooking very seriously.  I love hearing how wonderful my dishes are. Keekee. I really savored it. No pun.

5. What are the top three qualities that draw you to someone new?

Humor and wit, Intelligence and easy-going.

6. If you could eliminate one weakness or limitation in your life, what would it be?

For all that humor and wit and easy-going stuff I talk about, I can’t take a personal joke/attack. Working on it, youguyz.

7. What was the best news you ever received?

Will update when I have a baby as the beSt nEwzzzzz eevr! 1 comment = 1 like.

8. If you could hold on to just one memory from your life forever, what would that be?

They have copied all these questions from Koffee with Karan. Cryyyy.

9. What’s your favorite dessert?

 The question must be “what’s not your favorite dessert?” I have a terrible sweet tooth. I have to eat something sweet after every damn meal. I always have a stash of dark chocolate in 2-3 places in the house. Secret locations. 1 minute mug-cake works the best for midnight cravings.

10. What are the top three things on your bucket list?

For now:

– Travel, travel, travel. A lot.

– Just be content.

– Get a puppy.

 

Parks & Rec, Prabhu Deva and a besotted puppy.

Suits is my latest addiction. Not much of an addiction in comparison to Parks and Recreation, really. I think I watched P&R back to back even without eating or sleeping. I love love love how it makes me laugh out loud. I miss Office. I don’t want P&R to end ever. I am bored of all the serious suits in Suits. The characters are not very strong-willed and defining. I want humor. If they can make something as boring as a medical room/ court room so interesting, I petition they start a similar series with Industrial Engineering. Fat lot fun, it will be. Should I talk to ABC or AMC or NBC or XYZ about this?

I am going through a phase now, where I am attracted by BEES. I have already engaged in weird Prabhu Deva (he’s so overrated. his beard is not.) seizures in sidewalks, roads, the middle of the road etc. Where can I go meet Queen B and ask her to consider my poor situation?

I bought new running shoes a while ago and I am in love with them. I go to the gym just to wear the shoes. (that I actually do not run is pitiful) I also go to the gym so I can eat all the fattening things. But looking in mirror, I think my theory is flawed somewhere. I love this dialogue from Suits by Donna (I love her)- Because I get skimmed milk, I can put whipped cream and sugar in it. Someone finally read my thoughts about universe, life and 42.  

I met one of the juniors (4 years my senior actually) from this Fall batch. He had come by to say hi and for general chit chat. This was the first time I was meeting him, after a small phone conversation where I actually thought he was a telemarketer from Amway. How he spoke: “blah blah FUCK blah CRAP blah FUCK blah FUCK CRAP SHIT blah…” I get it- life can get a little angsty, but you definitely don’t talk like that to someone you’re meeting for the first time, especially not to an alarmed little girl. One of the things I really like about my fiancé is that he almost always never swears. Cuss words are so 2000, dude. Learn some real vocabulary.  

I also love that he doesn’t comment on people’s looks or weight. I have been around enough douche bags who think it is alright to do so. And he’s so accommodating with my idiosyncrasies. We are the kind of people who play “who can shout louder” in a closed car when normal people play other kind of games.

I know I sound like one besotted puppy. Keehee.

 

 

I am not available at the moment. Please leave a message.

This semester has been crazy so far. I have only 2 courses this semester, and with work combined; somehow I have been busier than I ever was. Fiance has been complaining about how little I am available to chat/ FaceTime. Which reminds me, I have to give him a blog name (which is, if not as fancy as Subbu, something close.) I don’t want to call him A or AK or DF (means dearest fions) or things like that. Such is the life of Subbu these days. In between all these, I managed two trips, first to Boston and then to NYC. Boston is beautiful, you guys. NYC- its charming pretty self, as usual. I had to take cabs all the time during these trips. I really don’t mind chatty cab drivers but if I am sleepy and tired, I just want them to be quiet. One of them asked me if I liked basketball or football better. I wanted to ask him what the difference between the two was and annoy him. But I just told him that I followed neither. So you’re not a sportsperson then, huh? he asked. Do I look like one? I yawned. One another fellow was telling me his immigration story from Bangladesh to NYC, also adding “aap itni achi se Hindi baat karti hain. kyun aata nahin kehte hain?” TROLOLOLOL. I am never escaping this group I guess. Another one was so rude and he demanded that I tip him. I asked him politely to go take a hike. This attitude of mine was highly appreciated by my uncle, not so much by the rudeface. Another one was constantly apologizing because we were stuck in the NY traffic for an hour. You know, all kinds really.

Many people have been questioning me why I am getting married this early. Grandmother would have given them the looks. In previous times I used to pull out research articles about how people who get married in their early 20s are smart, intelligent and awesome to make a life changing decision at a young age, and even have a late death, but now I understand that they’re just frustrated. Makes so much sense.

I was in between classes and was walking with a coffee in one hand and cellphone in the other, when a bee/wasp/weird creature decided to startle me. I know bees are attracted to sweet things, but this was really too much tension in my head to register that. I was convulsing in the middle of the walkway to escape the bee, much to the entertainment of the onlookers. These are the times I want certain species to become extinct. I hate honey anyway, so yeah. Why did poor dinosaurs have to go?

This was an actual conversation between two real people.

Indian roomie: Looks like you have gone down a lot during the summer.

American Landlord: Whaaaa whadjoo mean?

Until next time I embarrass myself, guys. Ta!

A day in the life of.

It was one hell of a sunny morning. The sun did nothing to warm the cockles of Subbu’s heart. She had decided the previous night that she would not turn up at work- just- and go to the mall. Sick leave was the easiest and also the trickiest excuse. The patient would have to go to the doctor and then the employer would call the health services to verify if the patient came in sick or is just doing drama. Subbu found this exercise stirring as this was her first time. She was just craving some drama. She always does, the Subbamma. That was one of the ten other suffixes to her name. The other two being SubbuTripathi, Subbuni. She was neither a Tripathi nor a bunny.

Subbu thought long and hard of the lies that can get her out of the situation. “Fever is too dicey. Thermometer thoo. Fever is dicey.” she decided. Suddenly she remembered an old movie where some hero tells the heroine that if one keeps cut onions in one’s armpit the entire night, one would surely get fever in the morning. Subbu contemplated and thought against it. She did not want to smell like onion mandi at the mall. “Stomach ache is the best. What can possibly go wrong with this! She can even touch my stomach and I will shriek loudly from pain” she giggled to herself and booked an appointment.

The doctor looked at Subbu rather suspiciously and led her to the consultation room. She introduced herself as Mamta* and asked what the problem was. How curt, thought Subbu and wondered if she should tell her that her heart was aching but decided against it and went with the original problem  of stomach ache. “Where is it paining?” asked Dr. Mamta. Subbu pointed to her lower abdomen and kept moving her hands rapidly and this exasperated the doctor. “You are pointing to the entire stomach!” she complained. Subbu is enjoying this immensely. “Okay, here, this!” she pointed to one part of her abdomen. “How is the pain?” Mamta raised her eyebrows. “It is fine. It comes every now and then, like once in 15 days and stays for 2 days max. Then it goes off.” Subbu told her matter-of-factly. “Are you sexually active?  Are you sure you don’t have STDs? I think you should get an appointment with the Gyn for pelvic examination. I will also rule out other infections by doing urine dip. I think you must also get an ultrasound. But first make that Gyn appointment.” Mamta stopped for breath. Subburam receives this bit of information all hurt and embarrassed, owing to her Indian traditional values upbringing and she told the doctor that she needed to talk to her parents before taking any important decision. Now she can’t tell anything and will just thupp me out, Subbu was sure and pleased with herself. Mamta smirked, “Parents!? Hahahaha I’d say keep it private!” Oho, another trap- Subbu was really irritated with having to lie so many times to cover up one big lie. “Okay you please go and sit in the waiting room and wait for the urine test” Mamta instructed with a dead voice. “Okay but I want to pee now, should I hold it or what?” “Ya wait for another 5 minutes. Instructions will be given.”

After seven excruciating minutes of sitting with a full bladder, she was called into the laboratory. “We are doing an urine test now. Fill this half and bring it back to me. The bathroom is two doors this way” the technician led her out, handing her a cup to urinate. This was all karma, she just knew it. But she took it in the right stride as this was the first time she was peeing in a cup and in the journey called life every experience was a milestone. She handed the cup excitedly to the technician. “Did the doctor ask you to wait for your results?” she asked. Subbu lowered her gaze to the cup and nodded. After another seven minutes of waiting, this time with a nearly empty bladder, the doctor ushered her to her room. “Here take all this” Mamta handed a bunch of pamphlets which were various ultrasound centres in the city. “The test result was negative.”

Subbu was pretty sure Mamta’s face was crestfallen.

*Original names have been changed to protect identity.

**This could very well be a work of fiction. Please do not try to replicate at home without the supervision of elders.

Where we have news, if y’all care for some.

During the last few months of my insignificant absence, I finished a semester, planned a surprise trip to India, executed it amazingly well, got engaged to one wonderful boy and travelled with a kid for more than 36 hours.
Okay, you might want to go back and read the part where I tuck a hair behind my ear like its no big deal. Yuss guys I am growing up, getting married and what not. I want to cry a few joyous tears for myself.
My wudpi (also known as fiancé in illiterate countries) has read this blog and is suitably baffled at my “humor” and I’m sure is also secretly smug of my “popularity” here. I dream.

I had a divine opportunity to read 3 of the worst books ever published on Earth. Means they’re worst of worsest of worse. (I have an indigenous talent of finding all worst things.) People demand so much from bloggers- like they have paid to read my piece of art- they troll and leave threatening comments if you write crappy blogposts. I was once told that my blog needs to have emotional, sentimental, and romantic posts. It’s a wonder the authors of these books are alive yet.
And the most annoying thing is that I found these books in the bookshelf my room, at home. WEEP.

I had dreamt long and far of the day when I would subject my parents to my new found culinary interest. I decided to make mango soufflé for father. I was casually mentioning that I needed to get gelatin and heavy cream for the same.
Father: gelatin kuchi (stick)?? I don’t want to eat anything with gelatin kuchi in fact I don’t want to eat anything you cook go away you mad daughter.
I took me some amount of Internet browsing to understand that.

There were lots of such interesting stories, but these days my memory is degrading. So badly that I want to cry.
Any Pankajakasturi type thingies you can suggest for my memory, dear reader?

New post because finals week.

The other day, I was in the college shuttle and some random student boy was chatting me up. He asked me what I was studying and other assorted nonsense and frankly I don’t think he was listening to all the enthusiastic answers. After ten minutes of my throat-parching explanations, he says to me “I’d invite you to a party tonight, but you look like good girl.” I am probably the reason why it still rains in parts of India and the US.

My latest project/ passion/ timepass/ hobby/ pastime is going  natural. (I haven’t caught the organic bug. yet.) I stopped using all the products that had chemicals in them. Kajal included. I am one lazy person that almost always sleeps with makeup on and wakes up looking like she did a small tribal dance in her sleep. That leaves me with just moisturizer (to avoid fair complexion caused exclusively by sori) and sunscreen (i don’t want different parts of my body in different colors.) Look, to put it very mildly, I look like a terminally ill patient without eyeliner. I have never left home without Kajal for over 8 years now. When I purposely avoid it, then it means I am doing it purposefully (we found this word extremely hilarious when we were in the 12th. we replaced it for purposely and giggled liberally, until we found that this word not only existed but also had a meaning .) Like this one time I fooled the undergrad HOD into thinking I was severely sick and that I needed to go home. I also use a perfume that I absolutely adore. I have written to the curator- YO BRO DA PERFUME NATURALE? I am still awaiting their reply. I’d be very heart-broken if they reply that INDEED NOT U MAD BABZZZ? It’s been a month since I stopped putting chemicals on my face (how PETA-like I sound!) and I still have people ask me if I am sick or if I had just woken up from a sleep of 20 days. I don’t really know how long this phase is going to last. I love how involving my face phases are. I also love how I can rub my eyes and not worry about smudging eyeliner all over my face. (i love rubbing my eyes. it gives me clarity of thoughts. i have many more weird quirks.)

Please leave your NATURAL beauty tips in the comment section. While we are at it, could someone please tell me how to reduce the body heat naturally? I am dying from it. Okay thanks, let’s not make this more Sun Music-y than it has become.

 I love it when I come up with witty wordplays. The other day I was walking to grab coffee and suddenly was framing a sentence in my head- “Euphemism is euphemism for double meaning.” Some more epigrams are brewing before Subbu can compete with Oscar Wilde.

During a project meeting, one of my team members was down with a cold. He had a chunk of gooey snot peeking out from his nose. I don’t understand how thick-skinned someone can be to not realize that. We are all grown-ups and hence taunting him with gonnesurkaa was, although tempting, wrong. I had this strong urge to catch him by the neck like a mama bear and wipe his nose (with gloves on my hand, of course. ugh.) I shall stop right here because Karma is a bitch and I don’t want snotty babies. Or worse, walk around a chunky gooey snot peeking out from my nose.