I have no thoughts here. But I need to quit blaming the city. I don't even think I'm completely homesick just yet. Of course, I miss the food back home. But that's only because people here apparently don't hold taste in  very high regard. They eat for the sake of eating. Even I would I guess, if I had to get on top of other people in the locals every day on my way  to work and back and sweat on one another. Good food becomes an obstacle then. So they just make every thing smell the same here - of Garam Masala! - and eat it as they pretend to know the difference. Also, people don't hug here. They're all side hug-ey and fist bump-ey and well, generally sweaty. So I can't blame them for that too. Bomblasts and Malaria are to Mumbai what Rapes and Money are to Delhi... redundant and perfunctory. So okay, Delhi has counterparts. I parallel Malaria with Money not only for the common letter but for the fact that Delhi has money. Yes, I rub it in at every chance I get.
I'm popular here. But I was back home too. As I would be wherever I go. I'm sufficiently funny, averagely smart, pretty slutty, compulsively chatty, regular smoker and an alcoholic... like, why won't I make friends? I missed two days of college because I almost had Malaria (or so I thought!), and my bastard phone wouldn't stop buzzing about how bored everyone was getting without me. Yes! I'm a glorified class jester! Sue me! But the class jester gets in on the secret parties, so Screw You!


Speaking of Malaria, Mumbai has made my path collide with a very very cute Doctor; whom I'd totally go to visit again if it wasn't for the bloody long waiting line. We were totally flirting too in my big tshirt and pyajamas. Or was it just me? Or was it just that I was under medication? Whatever the case, cute doc. Notice how I don't throw around 'Bombay' anymore. I call it Mumbai now. For political reasons, of course. I'm not sure what they are but. Enlighten me, someone?


Oh! and the work I have here! The overdose of assignments is going to be the end of me, you'd think. I did too. But then came my fifty million household chores. Home here is where the household chores are, apparently. The heart thing is clearly a lie!

I HAVE NO THOUGHTS HERE.

Wadupp?

Apologies for the drunken stupor
But my hair looks nice right now
And I seem to have had one too many
And Ive released most of what was to be released
Alcohol hardly seems sinful now...


It's beautiiiful
With every bottle you open, you open up a little with it too
And what a joy that is
As you mistress around with friends or foes
And chat up everyone you come across
It's happiness
It's the closest you come to happiness in days...


You speak to lovers back in Delhi
Oh! My beautiful beautiful city of love.. where art thou?
And you moan to them
And breathe heavy
You wonder if this is what doing it over the phone feels like
You're sure not...


You wonder about the guy on your to-do list
You wonder why he manhandles you
Not that you mind
But you know  it's because for him, you're his 'bro'
SO for you, it'd be hot passion
For him, incest...


I need to think of more things! Or receive an education! Or smoke a cigarette on my terrace and sleep as I try not to throw up!
yeah.. the last one sounds just about right...


Apologies for the drunken stupor...

Nerd.

"I think ... after some thought, this one is apt for you. you need not change your cover. just know that this is something I think fits you. like totally ...

well, on the surface, this picture when I made it in paint was just a random creation but when I thought about it, it is you. you are the babe, the diva everyone loves to be around. yet, if one observes carefully there is a lot of blue in the picture. blue i.e. sadness. now you can deny it all you want but somewhere you try very hard to cover your depth as a human being.

its almost compulsive in a way "

Meanwhile in Bombay...

It's been okay here. So far so good I guess. Travelling is a bitch though. And hence I was taking cabs to college these past couple of days. I think that's one of the reasons no one in my class accepted me with open arm- because I was that girl from Delhi who cabbed it between Dadar and CST everyday because she was too cool for a local. But I am too cool for it! I don't see how having men sweating all over you is exciting. Well, it is... but not in the Bombay Local way. However, I take the trains now. I pick up new boys every night who drop me back home. True Story.
Not random boys. Boys staying close to my house as to walk me back and get me out of the traumas of the feeling of being touched by sweating men. But speaking of men sweating all over you, Bombay is winning in the 'action' department. I would  like to believe it's because of my drop dead gorgeous looks, but it could have a little to do with how frustrating it is to live here for everyone. Not sexually frustrating; survival-frustrating. 

I'm cooking, cleaning, washing, the works! None of that I mind. My flatmates are really the nicest people. I have people in Bombay that I love. I have made some cool friends too who seem to be fond of me. None in my class though. I'm meeting so many people each day- old and new. But it gets lonely here. And no amount of smoking on my beautiful beautiful terrace (very la 'Wake Up Sid') makes it any better. I miss my mom. Home is where mom is, I feel. And my people. I feel shy reading emails from the girl I love. I get conceited when lovers from Delhi claim they miss me, almost perfunctorily. I don't think I'm really missing anyone yet. But I think about them a lot. I think about Delhi a lot. Delhi- the land of delicious food, cheap alcohol and easier commuting. Everyone walks here! To everywhere! They're going to fucking walk to the moon one day! I don't do walks. I'm from Delhi, remember?

In other news, I've already been to the Police Station once in the middle of a night of drunken debauchery and have had one happy accidents too many around my under-wired brasserie- but I'd just put it under 'beginner's luck'; the latter, I mean. The alcohol intake has been more than the food. And with my cab rides and regular alcohol, I would soon zero down to no food at all it seems.
It's been a little more than a week   since I've been here. A few days ago had I gotten to write this, it would've been filled with frustrations pouring all over it. From everything to the names of this place (Kandivalli, Warli (pronouced Varli!), Borivali, Bandra, Bandstand, Banchod...!), to the lack of basic culinary experience to the surprise rains that make you think twice about wearing coloured bras... but now I think I've already made peace with it. And if not, I know I'm on a quick way to it...

The terrace makes it better.