Life goes on

I had a friend in college. Rupali and I along with two others were ‘best friends’, we had all come together in the hostel during my very first year in college. You know how everyone is a part of some gang, we were gang of four and did everything under the sky together. We had the kind of bond only people who have been roomies over years can understand and empathize with. I can go on and on about the things we did together, hanging out with each other 24 7, getting ragged together, and ragging others together when we became ‘seniors’, bunking classes, all nighters together pretending a 'group study', taking rickshaw rides to this small time Chinese eatery called ‘momos point’ some gazillion times a week, late night Maggies, sharing clothes and shoes, having that first cigarette together and dating at more or less the same time..you get the drift. We grew up together. College ended in three years but we decided to stick around, rented a place in Lajpat Nagar to be roomies for the next couple of years. I consider that phase of my life the best so far, things were not as comfortable as they are now, but it was fun and life was carefree. I have briefly mentioned about it on one of my earlier posts. Things moved on and so did we, different jobs happened, men happened, relocation happened and we had to part ways. I got married; two of them took up another house and one moved to the States for studies. We were all busy catching pace with life but kept each other posted. Everyone, as is obvious, met new people and made friends but no one, rather nothing could match the intimacy that the four of us shared. We would meet once or twice a year, either when I or the other friend from States was visiting Delhi.
Anyway, so I started this post on Rupali’s context since I don’t exactly know when and why there developed a gap between us. It started with silly reasons and given both our massive ego’s, it got worse with time. I couldn’t make it to her wedding this year in Feb because of work, and that just added fuel to the fire. On my next weekend trip to Delhi she got tied up and even though we were in the same city she couldn’t squeeze out any time for me, and that made me mad at her. But we were both mad at each because we were so close and heart of hearts I loved her as much and I am very sure our feelings were mutual. Anyhow, on my last trip to Delhi in August we caught up with each other. And she was just the same old Rupali, in her patent dark blue jeans and a graffiti T-shirt. She looked very tired though. She had arthritis and used to be sick on and off. Fever, joint paints, Fatigue were common for her and she had been consulting doctors. We had known about this since our Lajpat Nagar days. I remember that evening well, we sat down for drinks, home cooked food, swapped stories and laughed a lot. I wanted to go out clubbing later..others came along but Rupali excused herself saying she wanted to sleep and that crossed me again as I had only a few hours to spend with them. I had planned to talk it all out with her that day and generally sort whatever was going on with us. But I didn’t. She went home and I went out partying and was back to Dubai the next day.
The evening before on my way back from work I received a call from the other friend in Delhi informing me that Rupali was in the ICU in a very critical condition and had very less chances of surviving. That her arthritis was just a symptom of something else that she was suffering from called SLE . That she had reduced to 35 kilos and her body was not responding to any treatment whatsoever. This was all because this could not be detected earlier.
I heard it all out and snapped back at the friend saying inane things like she had no right to exaggerate things and there’s nothing that could have gone so wrong in just two months since I last saw her that wasn’t curable. I made some frantic calls here and there to see if I could inform them anything that would help, names of specialists for the said disease, better hospital’s may be, spoke to her husband and then spent a sleepless night crying. Thinking of what if what they said came true. I slept only in the wee hours of the morning to be woken up by my phone ringing in just half an hour. I deliberately missed the call; a second later an sms informed me Rupali was no longer with us.
I don’t know how I feel, I have never lost anyone as close before. I just had this lump on my throat all day because of which I couldn’t speak. More than sad, I am angry. It is lame to say this I know, but she didn’t deserve it. She was as young as I am, newly married and in love with life with a lot of things on the to-do-in- life list. Who decides things like these, she was the best amongst us, forever helpful and caring to everyone around. Why would something so terrible happen?
I know life with go on, I will wake up tomorrow, go to work, go about things, and eventually feel better also but I will always be very sorry that I didn’t hug her that night and speak to her to sort things out.

PS- It’s a depressing post and I am not the kinds who would write about such strong feelings in the open but I am finding it very difficult to talk since the last two days and thought writing might help.

Scribble turns into a crazy cat lady

In the last four to five months I developed a new fetish.. of petting a cat. I don’t know whatever put the thought in my head but it has been playing on my mind ever since. I really wanted one and H just wouldn’t let me, he being the practical thinker of the household. Who would take care of the cat once I start working, taking it out everyday might be a task , chances of having the house turned topsy turvy and a thousand other reasons he mentioned, and I had only one thing to say- people do have pets and they do survive. And then finally sometime last week when I decided to call it war if he didn’t get me a cat ‘righthererightnow’, he revealed the real reason.. that he is scared of cats. I obviously thought it was the lamest of excuse but turns out, it wasn’t. His sister confirmed it, mentioned that it is probably the only thing that could drive him up the wall.( Almost seven years with the man, you would THINK I know all about him) I laughed my guts out and made peace with the fact that I can never pet a cat till the time I am married to the man and pretty much closed the chapter at that. But looks like fate had other plans.
First day at work (did I tell you all I joined work this week?), the boss was showing me his house around (It’s a new set up and we move into the office only by first week of December) and tada! this super cute fat cat jumps out of some corner.. infact there’s not one, but two of them in his house. And to say they are adorable would be an understatement. The boss introduced me to them, they are Persian and called CAT and CAT, yes! Grey white in colour, longhaired with the most enchanting yellow eyes.. just the kind I wanted. Its been four days and I am already in love with them. They play around my feet all day long, sleep there, do their own thing, jump up the desk sometimes and keep gazing into the laptop for as long as you don’t move them, I get to feed them and its all good.
This house (acting-office now) is located in Palm Jumeirah, so the office is most lah di dah. I work in this sunshiney room with two glass walls and stare at the pretty private beach outside. ALSO, the boss is absolutely adorable (read HAWT) but that’s another post altogether. So far so good.. touchwood.
And wannabe- here’s the Diwali pic

Moi and the mandatory diwali rangoli there, ignore my spastic looking pose.. as always, I was clicking all the time and hence few pictures of me to choose from. And may I add the accomplishments this Diwali- I won 40 aed in all and the saari stayed put all evening.

Scribble's lifetime acheivement

Mother in law called the other day and dutifully reminded me about the big day- Karvachauth. I nodded just like I have been in the last 2 years and rubbished the idea. I find the entire concept quite nonsensical. For the uninitiated, the fast (staying without food and water till the evening) is kept by married women for the welfare and good health of their husbands. I have nothing against women who do it but I am not ritualistic like that and dude! Touching the man’s feet before breaking the fast? Isn’t that a lil too far fetched? There are, ahem, better ways to make a man feel special eh? Some people might say why question everything.. traditions are beautiful, why not? Right! But I can’t relate to the entire idea of massaging a man’s ego like that. And for the life of me, I won’t wear those heavy duty saaris or jewelers just around the house. Bollywood movies have really blown this festival out of context. But at the end, to each its own, so it’s all good.
I have never kept the fast in the last two years of my married life; in fact I have never kept a fast in my entire life. Staying without food shouldn’t be that big a deal, but without water and coffee! I am capable of chewing my own arm if I don’t get my morning doze of caffeine.
But something got on to me this time and I was all set to do it when I woke up in the morning. For a) I have nothing better to do sitting home. b) I had been a glutton the entire week and could do with some serious dieting. And c) I did my research you see, and learnt that technically since this is my first KC, I ought to be showered by gifts. So there :)
Fortunately or unfortunately, H finds the tradition as ridiculous and when I happened to mention that I was contemplating on doing it, he rubbished it just like I had. I smsed him some seventeen times during the course of the day to take me seriously and not to come home empty handed, unless he was steel wrapped.
The day was terrible, to put it mildly. I had turned into a monster by the time the maid came. She obviously noticed the revolting look on my face, asked if I was alright and I happened to mention that I had a terrible headache so she should just finish fast and leave. Being the thoughtful person, she made me a strong cup of coffee and kept it beside me and being the absentminded arse, I ended up having it. Yes! Imagine. After a few sips I realized the disaster and well, it was too late. Since the damage was already done, I decided to have some water too. Yea, that’s moi. But that was all, I continued with my 'fast' thereafter.
H came home in the evening, empty handed mind you, but right when I was about to bash him for that I saw his untouched lunch that I had packed him in the morning. I was all aww-ed, told him all about my half-baked fast but then we mutually decided that a lil coffee and some water shouldn’t take away the entire credit.
The moon came out just as I was about to collapse at about 8:20 pm. And that, my lovelies, was not all. I leaped over to the terrace and found a crowd of heavily dressed pretty looking women with mehendi on their hands all set with their huge thaalis, diyas, sweets, water in silver vessels etc. They checked me out top to bottom and I could tell they were trying very hard not to laugh . I was in was in my spiderman tee and shorts and looked quite a character carrying a bottle of water, a fruit and nut bar and a sieve to do the look- at- the- moon- through- the sieve thingammy .I probably should have taken some efforts to dress but then I was really not upto it after the entire day. So anyhoo, checked out the moon, wished H a happy KC, finished the bar in one single bite, got home and ate an elephant like dinner.
That was my first fast ever and I came through with flying colours, or so I would like to believe. Oh , and yes, I shall do the same exercise next year depending on the gifts which I have been promised over the weekend.