Shut your eyes and when you open them, it will all still be there. Idiot.

So I was watching the Academy awards this morning and it was fun! None of the bollywood song and dance stuff, but it was entertaining nevertheless. I was just imagining how it would be if Angelina Jolie suddenly came on stage, dressed in a skimpy lehenga and started gyrating to Chikni Chameli. Meryl Streep would faint. Anyway, speaking of item numbers, Malaika 'Jhandu Balm' Arora Khan is doing some 'Anarkali Disco Chali' shit. I don't really see the point. Item numbers are more or less unnecessary. When will we make some more meaningful cinema? I'm sure if my friends are reading this, they'll just ignore my rant. They know of my obsession with parallel cinema, documentaries and art films. An old friend still curses me for dragging her to watch 'Raincoat' thrice. Another friend will recollect how much I cried after watching 'Shwaas'. I like my dose of entertainment, as long as its not mindless crap. Call me a snob, I couldn't care less. I'll just buy you a DVD of 'Parzania' or 'Bhumika'.
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HM took his role of being my husband way too seriously and went and bought me a new scooter. He is nice that way. The scooter is awesome. I came zipping on it to work today. It is attracting quite a few envious glances. Anyway, the initial happiness of being gifted something like this was replaced by a sad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I must be an idiot, but sometimes I want to be able to do things for myself. Buying a scooter was one of those things. All said and done, I'm a proud wife. But I'd like to be a proud woman too. I just don't know how I can make everyone understand this. I'm not even sure how right I am when I think such things. I need one of those counsellors who make you lie down on a sofa and listen to you crib and then charge you for it.
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I love kids. I was a kid myself, once - Tom Cruise

My colleague's sister gave birth to the most adorable baby girl yesterday. I visited her today and turns out, I can be very emotional around newborns. The baby looked at me with her twinkling eyes and my eyes welled up. On the way back I began reminiscing about my own childhood. I lived with my grandparents till I was 3 and those were the best days of my childhood. I moved to Pune with my parents soon after, but I often travelled to Mumbai to be with Aai and Dada. Evenings were spent in the neighbourhood park where one could sit on a horse and do some 'riding'. I still remember how I'd bounce up and down on the horse's back when the handler made it trot faster. I could feel my heart trying desperately to jump out of my mouth. It was a beautiful park in Mulund (E) and was sufficiently large with cool fountains and the works. It is still very much there but the horses have gone. On the way back from the park, Dada would buy me a film container full of soap bubble water. I'm very sure my love for equestrians began in that very park. I developed my love for food at a very early age too. Aai was a brilliant cook and nobody made fish fry the way Aai did. Sunday was usually reserved for this special delicacy and it began from the trip to the nearby fish market. I'd troop along, holding Aai's pallu as she haggled with the 'Kolin' and taught me to differentiate between 'paplet' and 'surmai'. Vegetarians often complain about how much a fish market stinks. I couldn't disagree more. For me, at that age, the fish market was a plethora of smells. The fragrance of incense and fresh mogra flowers that all the 'Kolins' wore in their hair, was interspersed with the smell of the sea. Yes, I could smell the open sea in the overcrowded market. Moreover, there were dozens of cats and their progeny milling around and more often than not, I'd pick up a stray kitten and cuddle it, only to be admonished by Aai. When we got back home, she'd marinate the fish and then fry it to a golden crisp. I was always served first. Not because kids ought to be fed first, but because I'd be milling around her like a kitten myself, waiting for the first piece of fish. I don't think I've awaited anything so impatiently ever again. Ma and Pa had their own ways to entertain me. Pa would take me to Thane lake and rent a boat which he'd row himself while Ma sang softly to me. And that is where my love for music began. Ma was and still is a fabulous singer. She can really carry a tune and thanks to genetics, so can I. Today, when I look back I realise how much these early experiences have affected my life. What if my grandparents never took me to the park with all those horses? Maybe I'd be afraid of horses like a friend of mine who actually runs like a horse when she sees one. What if my parents had raised me as a vegetarian? I'd have missed out on some succulent and crisp fish fry. I owe them so much....

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Dinkleberg...Who was he again?

Is it just me or does everyone remember random incidents and people from the past when they're least expecting it? It happens to me sometimes, when I'm lying in bed and trying to sleep. Memories come back in all their vivid glory and suddenly I remember something that had been sitting passively in the deep recesses of my mind, waiting for its moment. And when one memory arrives, the rest just follow as if they were all sitting in there holding hands and all of them had to come out together to be recalled. I can picture them sitting in a dark room and then the door creaks open and they're all like, "Hey, lets go out and sun ourselves a bit." I love it when something like this happens. I feel mildly amused at how much is stored inside my mind and how it can be summoned at a moment's notice. Like a very efficient filing system. I just have to think, Hmmm...summer after graduation, and every detail just pops out. Simply wonderful.
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So, I finally finished a book. And no, it wasn't the Rushdie book, which I've mentioned in one of my earlier posts. I just gave up on that one. I'll try it later. Last evening I finished reading 'Madhouse: True stories of the Inmates of Hostel 4, IIT-B'. Super awesome book. The editors just asked all the batch mates to come together and pool in their memories. Some are amusing and some are downright outrageous. The best thing is that the stories are from the 'Inmates' themselves and in their very own words. Like one big group autobiography. I loved it. It has all these black and white pictures too. I got very nostalgic about my college days after I put down the book. I have quite some hilarious incidents to narrate. Maybe someday I will.
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Baaki khabar mein toh, the in-laws are coming over for the weekend. MIL is bringing some chicken curry along. I am working on Saturday and will therefore be gone for most of the day. They are leaving on Sunday, so there won't be much to do. HM has a holiday on Monday while I don't. He works for a German MNC that knows zilch about Mahashivratri, but declared a holiday anyway. I work for a seasoned Gujrati businessman who knows zilch about anything else other than the fact that a holiday will be bad for business. Man, I love Indian businessmen. They really do know how to get their money's worth.
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The 'why have you still kept your maiden name' question turned up at the vet's clinic yesterday. This was discussed in HM's absence, while he went to fetch an auto. H and P were listening attentively while the doc and I brainstormed over this dilemma. Apparently, she never had a chance to say or do anything about her maiden name after marriage. Her Father in law promptly got it changed without even asking her. I've still kept my maiden name for professional reasons. I'm not sure what HM thinks about it. We have never really discussed this issue.My MIL however wants to know why my business card is doing the rounds with my maiden name on it. She wanted to give it to one of her friends but dropped the idea when she saw the name on it. She even called at my office once and asked the operator to give it to Mrs. HM, but she was told that no such person worked here. That really cracked me up. Anyway, point is, I have no idea what to do with my name. I am on the fence about it. A part of me wants to change it and another part wants me to keep it the way it is. There is a tiny third part which says that I should do something like Phoebe did in Friends. She got her name changed to Princess Consuela Banana hammock. Hmm....
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Shhh...

There are days in my life when I wish I was deaf. There is so much noise and criticism around, I wish I'd never heard any of it. Then again, deaf people have their sign language which they can see. But if they close their eyes, they'd be really deaf then. I do this silly thing sometimes. When someone is saying nasty things to me and it's hurting, I close my eyes. As if closing my eyes will make all the sounds go away. My sensory system is probably messed up. Anyway, deafness sounds like a very good idea right now. There is too much buzzing inside my head and not all of it is good. I'd like some peace and if becoming deaf serves the purpose, then so be it. I've decided that if I can't make all the noise go, I can atleast stop contributing to it. Which will require me to become dumb as well. I want to be a deaf and dumb person. Can't hear anything, can't say anything. Total Silence. It's a pity silence and peace are two different things. You can easily achieve silence, but peace is almost unattainable. Also, my observation and experience tells me that sometimes silence is louder than words. I have this mental image of a quiet young girl who looks a lot like me. She's sitting in a corner with her head hung low. She is completely still and silent but somewhere in the background I can hear the most painful scream ever. Yes, silence is annoyingly loud sometimes.

Love and other such nonsense...

I tried really hard to write something for St. Valentine's day. I still can't find something sensible to write. All sorts of nonsense comes to mind when I think of Love. I was a very mushy and romantic idiot when I was in college. Basically, I was all gung-ho about love and stuff before I got married. Post marriage, it was a different thing altogether. I realised that marriage can make you love and hate the same person at the same time. Very complicated emotion, I tell you. I really wouldn't want to explain the nuances of it. I am basically a very uncomplicated person at heart and that's why I dislike things that are difficult to comprehend. It started out with a severe aversion to mathematics and it's problems and now its other things like marriage and love etc that confound the shit out of me. I have literally forgotten what being in love means. I know better things now. Like tolerance and patience and how to live with a person who annoys you and then makes your heart skip a beat. I have learnt that I can be super mad and throw things around and only one person can make me feel that way. I know that someone controls my feelings like never before and that I can do the same to him. It is freaky. It is hauntingly beautiful. It is better than being in love. Difficult, but totally worth it. And this, my friends, is my Valentine's special post. I dedicate it to HM who is a totally unromantic person. Who never says 'I love you', but loves me nevertheless. Who I love so much that I've become exactly like him.
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The moon should have been neon pink...

So, my dear friend who likes to call herself my 'honest critic' is back with a barrage of questions. I have no idea why she refrains from posting comments. She says she is too lazy to type. Alright then, here is what she asked me.

Why do I blog anonymously?

I blog anonymously because there is so much more one can do in life if people don't know who you are. For example, Mrs. Pratibha Patil cannot stroll out on a Sunday evening to eat chaat from the nukkad ki dukaan. Reason? Everyone knows who she is and she has to live up to an image. It is for the same reason that Shahrukh Khan's wife cannot go to the sabjiwala to buy her veggies and why Aishwarya's baby cannot go to the local park to play chuppan chuppai. I blog anonymously because I have to live up to an image and it would suffer to an extent because of my insane ramblings. Besides, that just gives me freedom to write whatever I want. A freedom I cherish so much, I don't mind the anonymity in a world where people are trying hard to let the world know who they are.

What makes me happy?

Being with my husband makes me happy. His Majesty or HM as he's often referred to, is a quiet, simple chap who is an absolute delight to live with. Cooking for him, laying out his clothes every morning and other mundane chores make me happy. I like the fact that I can do these simple things for him. I feel happiest when he comes into the kitchen to ask for a second/third/fourth helping of dal or sabji. I love it when he tells me he's hungry. I don't know if all wives get their dose of happiness by doing stuff for their husbands, but I do. My world is pretty much centred around HM and I like it that way. Being with him has made me selfless, caring and more sensitive to other's needs. I love being the dedicated and pampering wife. There's nothing like it.

Why did I choose 'Lost & Found' as a pseudonym?

Because we lose ourselves in the things we love. We find ourselves there too.
I did not say these awesome words. Some famous person did. If you're curious to know who it is, just google it. I just relate to what is said. It stands true for me and hence the name 'Lost & Found'. It also helps that in  life, I've lost myself plenty of times and found myself again. I will continue this trend in the future too. It is my own style of self discovery.
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I have now decided to never celebrate my birthday again. It is pretty much pointless, I think. I was born, like, 26 years ago and I think its alright to stop celebrating now. We don't have to do it every year. Its boring. As for the gifts, you could give them to me any time of the year. Whatever is fine with you. I really like receiving gifts and its better when they just arrive without any particular occasion. Birthdays just demand gifts to be given and where's the fun in that? I think people should give you nice things when they feel like it not because its your birthday and they HAVE to give you something.
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If I was God, my angels would wear black.

Have you seen Toy Story? The whole series? My favourite toys are those three little green alien thingies. They are so awesome. I've been looking for something exactly like that in every toy store. No luck so far. If anyone out there can just donate one of those to me, I'd be so happy. Yup, I'm not going to pay for it. Money reduces the happiness of acquiring things. Everything should be a gift. That way people learn to be grateful. Isn't it?
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I saw an army of ants carrying a dead cockroach. It's a common sight. Kill a bug, any bug and let it lie there for an hour or two. The army will will march forth, conveniently dressed in black and carry the bug away. I call them the undertakers. I don't know what they do with the dead bug. I think they feast on it before disposing off the remnants. Sounds gross, but an insect shouldn't expect more. Atleast someone took the pains to come forth and take their body away. Also, it was put to good use. There's nothing better than being able to feed a hungry army of ants even after you're dead. The ants probably bless the bug's soul after burping. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...
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I've decided that solitude brings out the best in people. I think we should give ourselves a week atleast once every year. It's very important to spend time with ourselves to know who we are, what we want in life and what the future should be. Yes, I don't believe in destiny. Anyway, that one week should be completely devoid of any kind of human interaction. If you hate being lonely, have a dog around. They are great listeners. At the end of it, you'll come out with a much clearer perspective of life, its problems and their solutions. I am so excited about this concept that I think the government should give us all a week long holiday in the first week of January for 'contemplation'. I firmly believe that the constant company of fellow humans pollutes our mind, numbs our brain and makes us act like idiots. That is why monks and hermits live in solitude. Solitude brings peace and in the end, its peace we're all looking for. Just like the fabled musk deer who ran around looking for something that was within him.
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I really like this poster/ad or whatever it is. As the logo suggests, it is by the Apple guys. I find it very inspiring. But they missed out on a very important thing. Courage. Every so-called crazy genius had the courage to be different. Something a lot of us don't have.

Tell me why....

A friend asked me how I could praise a fashion blog in my last post. She's talking about Manou's Wearabout, which I evidently love. She said it is in complete contradiction of the view I endorsed in one of my early posts, wherein I've strongly criticised people who follow fashion labels and make a big deal about it, regardless of what their personal style is. She felt confused. Do I like fashion or do I not? Well, firstly, I don't just like fashion, I adore it. But my idea of fashion is very different from that of the average Hermes toting socialite who swears by her Legers. And that is where Wearabout comes in. Manou showcases street style and how common people incorporate fashion in their life. Believe it or not, he has some roadside beggars and drifters featured in there too. Fashion is all about creativity and individualism, so why not? She has also asked me to write about my favourite designers. My favourites are Sabyasachi Mukherjee for his ethnic simplicity, Kallol Datta for his creative silhouettes and Shivan & Naresh for their gorgeous designs. I do not like Manish Malhotra, Abu & Sandeep or Gauri & Nainika. Nishka Lulla and Masaba Gupta seem promising. Her next query was about my personal style. My personal style is basic and minimalist. I love wearing saris, though I never really get a chance to wear one. I am most likely to be seen in a tunic and slim corduroy pants. I don't accessorize a lot. I only wear a delicate mangalsutra and a bracelet or kada. I am most likely to be seen without any ear rings. I do not own a fancy watch. I wear a Fast track or Citizen watch. I like heels as they give me a good posture. In flats, I tend to waddle around like a duck. So there, dear friend. And thank you for being so attentive.