iWrite. Part Deux.

Leaving the city you've lived in for two decades is weird. Leaving it for slum city is strange. 

It's not easy anyway; specially when everyone around you is behaving like you're some celebrity who is getting married off and moving to the States (read: random madhuri Dixit reference). I have to to leave behind all these friends who won't be there physically to deal with my regular drama. I'd probably even lose touch with most. I'd have to live in a non-ac room. And have to share it with an unknown soul. Who, probably won't be from Delhi either. I'd walk out of my house and no man would be staring at my boobs like they were his friends. I'd never be certain that I'd get my work done with cleavage flashing and a little extra cash.  No chance encounter with a familiar 'autowallah' who'd take me to my destination. And no autos altogether because of the skyrocketing prices and general discourse of maniacal traffic. What would I do without all this botanical beauty that I'm so used to? And my parlour lady! Sigh. How I'd miss her! The quickest, most efficient (and also painless, might I add) lady on the planet. Sigh sigh sigh. And to live sans any parks? The horror!! No park facilities for play, work, pleasure, joint rolling etc. Nobody showing off because they don't even have a corridor in their matchbox sized homes is going to claustrophobic. And what is this shit I hear about alcohol permits in Bombay???  And top it all, Bombay has no winters. So there is no mist that hides all its ugliness. Hardly anyone would give a tiny rat's ass when (and if) we reach a club (in time) and dance slutty through the night. 

The one who notices would probably be from Delhi. And him and I are getting it on then.

That's the plan.

Ugh. I think the above however dramatic was a little therapeutic. 

Yes, I'm moving to Bombay for my post grad. And yes, I'm not going to eliminate the possibilities of all the fun I'm going to have. 

I leave on the 30th of this month.

Bombay, be nice.

And if the post offended/bored you , too bad.

Anyway, watch this and enjoy.

Bitten.

I discovered their existence rather early in my life. I've been an ardent fan. 'Love Bites' we called them back in the day. We weren't cool enough to give 'Hickeys' yet.

Love Bites. Love sure does.

Hickeys brand you.

Hickeys are memorabilia.

Hickeys remind you of 'what had been'.

Hickeys keep  record for some hours.

Hickeys keep record for some days even.

Hickeys make people know of your whereabouts.

Hickeys remind you  of your whereabouts.

Hickeys may disappoint parents.

Hickeys may be credited to insect bites for some.

Hickeys are good for you.

Hickeys are proof that you've been loved well;

Even where no love existed at all...

In memory of Bombay, Part Deux.

Romance.

"There's nothing romantic about the romantics"

Sudden Realization # 3

That is one reality I've accepted... My wonder years are over. Soon I'd be complaining about old-age and greying hair.

iWrite.

I'm still left with a major portion of my toughest exam this year. When's the exam, you ask? Tomorrow morning at 9. At 23:11, I wonder how much five minutes of blogging will take away from my anyway redundant studying plan.

I went to Bombay for a a Post Grad interview immediately after my last exam and returned yesterday. The interview sucked, by the way. Anyway, the trip was really like a loong sleepover of sorts. I met people and had seemingly a really great day. I have grown up fancying Bombay. I knew I'd love it without any introduction even. However, I don't. I hate that place!

Bombay is ugly, overcrowded, dirty and so fuckin' poor. And the traffic! The motherfuckin' traaafffiiccc!! On my way back from the airport, I was actually going to tell my cab driver to stop the cab somewhere so that I could lie down on the Delhi roads and make some sweet love to it. Bombay made me cry. For no good reason. It can't be the traffic alone. After really long did I cry with such intensity. The worst part however iss, that the water taps haven't completely stopped in Delhi either. This better be PMS or I'm blaming my parents for all my miseries.

We live like kings in Delhi even in our poverty, someone once said to me. Delhi serves everything on a platter to everyone. Of course, there's familiarity of all these years and personal connections. But apart from that, Delhi is easy. If you don't want to rush, you can be laid back as fuck. You can always get someone else to do the work for you. Bus, Metro, Auto, Car- you'd find your footing somewhere and not be bogged down by the weight and sweat of 800 passengers in one square inch. If you don't wanna go clubbing, you go karaoke. If you can't afford the cool bar in Saket, there'll always be a cheaper alternative in a humble abode near your place. Which will also have ac, might I add. Unlike Bombay.

Of course nightlife rocks in Bombay apparently because the entire evening goes in commuting. I would need all pubs open till early morning too if I needed 3 hours to get from any point to any point. Of course, the city never sleeps because it's always stuck in traffic! 

It may be because perhaps I am too much of a Delhiite apparently to survive a Bombay. And to think I had never thought ot myself that way before. Delhi tends to spoil you. Bombay doesn't give scope for your way of life; it's the city's way. You either embody the ''spirit'' of Bombay and be it or well, just never fit in.

Sigh.

Oh. It's 23:21.

This was going to be a distraction post from all the studying that I don't understand. Why is it a Bombay v/s Dehi debate, I have no idea.
Needs.Happiness.And.Drugs.

Sudden Realization # 2

According to Best Friend's budgeting skills, I need a minimum of 30 grand in the month of June to fulfill all my basic shopping requirements. Sigh.

Mum should settle for 15 at least.

The Girl With The Sports Shoes.

I once met a girl
In this crazy ass world
Who was brighter than sunshine
And who was looking for a sign
A sign of true love she looked for
She knew she'd find it for sure
But that's not the reason for this note
And here's hoping she finds her love boat
The one thing I'd never forget she told me
Because it was so fascinating to be
Is that she loved wearing shoes at all times
With them she could fight all crimes
When things would go wrong, as they will
When life would be at a pathetic standstill
She would run.. run away to glory
Not look back and never be sorry
And to run she'd need her sports shoes
Too go wherever she would choose
In all her adventures her feet would be protected
And everything would be just as she expected.

Ze Shoes.

I don't think she'd even remember telling me any of this this. But you know? How somethings just stay with you for no good reason.
"Shoes are important. Kuchh ganda hua toh kahin pe bhi bhaag sakte ho. You won't slip if you have the right shoes on"