Ironic...

I’m no environmentalist. Yes, I love a clean city, and can’t stand vehicles that emit black streams of carcinogenic muck, but strangely I felt at home stuck in the nauseous traffic of one of Chennai’s busy shopping areas. Stuck in a jam surrounded on all sides by pollution that was no doubt clogging up my newly cleansed face (after a two-hr long luxurious facial at the parlour), I realized how I missed even the traffic of city life. I never thought I would say this, but it rings true! After negotiating bullock carts, rickety buses and trucks during my 5.30 am driving lessons in Vellore, I enjoyed being surrounded by more civilized means of transport. Nope, I’m no rich snob of a city girl being forced to live in a little town. The town has an ‘own-ness’ (if you know what I mean) that I’m sure I will miss when we shift back to the city.
Just another irony of life, how you miss what you don’t have, even if you hated it when you had to put up with it. How the mind associates some of the worst things with some of the best. Like how the sickening smell of cigarette smoke reminds me of one my best friends and room-mates in Mumbai.

Vegetables ain't so easy...

So, I get up in the morning, and immediately know why I don’t want to get out of bed,
I have an empty fridge, says something in my head.
It’s time I set out, cast aside inhibitions and decide to explore,
Something quite essential for survival – the vegetable market of Vellore!
Armed with purse, umbrella to beat the heat,
I pull on a tee, strap my sandals to my feet;
I ask a shopkeeper for directions and reach the designated spot,
It’s only 8 am – barely morning – and it’s already sooo hot 
And I’m rooted to the ground, with the sight that lies ahead,
I just want to turn around and run back into bed.
It’s a vegetable market alright, if you can see beyond the people and flies,
And the stench, Heaven save me, worse than rotting fish and fries.
I stand and watch bewildered, trying to make sense out of the seeming confusion,
Muster up my courage – am I brave enough for this mission?
Deep breath, I plunge right it, holding my nose,
Through the pack of people, huddled so close,
(You can even smell the sweat in their armpits,
I just hope that their hair hasn’t got nits!)
There’s no such thing as being polite,
Just make your way through, it’s really quite alright.
You have to be pushy; standing lost won’t get you anywhere,
Of manners and etiquette, you mustn’t have a care.
Direct yourself to the vendors with their goods heaped up on dirty ol’ sacks,
They’re hygiene factor really sucks, I have to say, is really quite lax!
Asking the price is useless because no matter how you try,
The answer will come out as a rapid, alien, rural Tamil, undecipherable cry.
If you don’t know the language, don’t make it obvious, they can smell a novice from far,
And you’ll be cheated of your pennies and be given cauliflower that is sour.
Choose the freshest ones quickly; be on your toes,
For someone else might grab the carrots you want, from under you nose.
In the crowd be careful of your purse, wallet, your money,
For if the pick pockets clean you out, it really won’t be funny.
If you’re a strict vegetarian, try to ignore the market’s other side,
Cooped up dying chickens, and the already dead ones – their inners turned outside.
Fish mongers, hacking away at fish heads, tails, eyes,
And, aaagh, yet more of those wretched, wretched flies.
Oh, and did I mention the little dirty stream of stagnant water that runs by,
The stench is unbearable, you can’t ignore it, don’t even try.
That veggies aren’t washed in that watery filth, you can but only hope,
From the smell of things around, these people haven’t even heard of soap!

It was all I could do to shove, grab, pay and escape,
Before, all my poor assaulted senses got bruised outta shape.
Before the odour got into my newly washed hair,
I had to get out, to get some fresh air.
So I emerged, juggling the various bags I now held, and me, my sweat mopping,
I couldn’t help feeling triumphant for doing something as ordinary as vegetable shopping!

phhheeewww

who would have thought setting up a house would be so much hard work.... it's been a hectic hectic week. tiring, but that sort of sweet tiredness you get when u've been on your feet the whole day, but doing something you love, mmm, just like shopping! u come back home, your arms aching with bags n bags full of goodies, and your feeting just killing you, you curse yourself for wearing those miserable fancy shoes the whole day (who's looking at you anyway!), kick them off into a corner and flop down on the bed like a sack of soggy potatoes. but then your excitement seems to stir a hornet's nest in your head, like a whiff of cool air on a suffocating sultry day, and you start to tear open your packets and packages. two minutes later you're strutting your poor tired feet around the room in that new pair of heels you picked up, admiring your new low waist jeans you'd been eyeing for weeks, and pat yourself on the back for picking up this gorgeous looking top for a bargain. where's the tiredness gone then? well, it's something like that, when your setting up your new house, your very first one, your very own little place. first there's the cleaning, and when your a cleanliness freak like me, it can take days to scrub the previous occupants out of the walls and doors, the windows and tiles, the light fittings and shelves. there's the insect elimination - it's fascinating in an annoying kind of a way, how these hardy little, disgusting ugly roaches manage to survive the HIT, laxman rekha, naphthelene balls and boric acid! then packing and shifting, and unpacking and sorting. the countless people to run after - the carpenter for the locks, the shelves and the hooks, the electirician to fix the lights and fans, the artist to paint your name on the front door, the stores to issue you furniture and a new mirror cos the old one's so cracked and stained, your face looks like a rotting aubergine in it. and then the bit which is supposed to be the most fun - the shopping! well, it's difficult in a place that's so hot, that if you go out, your skin threatens to melt and your sweat glands go into overdrive. and there's no such thing as a departmental store, you have to do your research before investing money in anything worthwhile. yup, you can always manage to get the brands in the end, but only after you've checked out at least a dozen different small shops. oh, but after a hard day of cleaning, packing, shifting and researching, it's a soothing satisfaction, a sweet tiredness in the bones, that's puts you to sleep on the brand new matresses and the just-out-of- the-packet bedsheets that still smell of newness!

Media's shaadi mania

Ladies and Gentlemen, girls ‘n’ boys,
Chuck all your work, abandon your toys;
For the great media tamasha is about to begin,
Get your popcorn and coke and quickly sit in.
Bollywood’s two biggest stars stand to be one,
And we all know how wedding’s can be so much fun.
No matter if we aren’t allowed inside,
We’ll still catch the emotion ‘n’ tell you who cried.
For as Aishwarya and Abhishek tie the knot,
For us ‘unrelated relatives’ in the media, that means a lot,
For though not invited, and we’re miffed about that,
It’s outside their houses we’ll camp – camera n sunhat.
To get you any head peeping out of a top floor window,
And the general ambience, which way the wind does go.

Hopping between the Bachchans’ two residences and Ash’s house too,
They’ve got Z grade security, so the photos will be few.
But we’ll make it up with speculations galore,
On who wore what n who rocked the dance floor.
Which film stars were invited to this marriage,
It’s all there on every edition’s very first page.

Breaking news: Ash’s mehendi has come in fresh from Rajasthan’s Sojat
News update: Rumour is - there’s a whole 15 kilos of that.
The Heliconia flowers are from Kerela’s Kochi gardens,
And Kanpur ladoos for all their family n frens.
Exclusively designed saris come all the way from Varanasi,
Exquisite Kolkatan jewellery for the lucky bride-to-be.
An Arya Samaj shaadi with 11 pundits sitting in,
And Kajara Re booming from the music system.
An elaborate 16 page gold embossed card,
It’s a wedding unrivaled, even if you try very hard.

It’s the century’s Shaadi No. 1,
And if you want to join in the fun
Switch on any news channel
And you’ll get your fill…
Can’t promise you facts, only pure guess work
No cake, only icing, that’s the perk.

Once in a while a wedding like this
Keeps the media on its toes, in case a sneeze does it miss.
But this time the media did slightly disappoint us,
Indeed they did make month-long huge fuss,
They covered every bit from food to panty hose!
But they forgot to come out with speculative photos,
Of how, when the stork visits, perhaps, maybe,
Sketches of the probable Ash-Abhishek baby!

These Doctors, I tell you...

These doctors, I tell you, are a weird breed,
True, they do good deed after deed.
But their calling takes over their entire life,
I’m telling you ‘cos I’m a doctor’s wife.
Living on campus, I’m surrounded by every kind
Of doctor that you could ever find…
Pathologists, radiologists, cardiologists, gastroenterologists,
Neurologists, nephrologists, oncologists, dermatologists,
Urologists, geologists – hang on, geologists? No, that doesn’t sound right
And, of course, the surgeons, whom I mustn’t slight.
There are older ones with tons of knowledge ‘n’ experience in their heads,
And younger ones bubbling with enthusiasm instead;
Unkempt ones, unshaved ones, crumpled-shirt ones,
Long-haired ones, sleepy-eyed ones, just-out-of-bed ones,
‘Maybe that one dozed off half-way though a book,
And got up and rushed off, without a care for his look!’
The most pitiable ones – pagers beeping – scurry off to respond,
By now I’m sure, of emergencies; they can’t be all that fond.
From ward to ICU to OT do they spend their day,
Jack’s quite active though it’s all work, no play.
Surgeons rushing off to operate on patients, make them good,
Just wishing they’d got as much sleep as they should!
Seeing line after line of the sick in the OPD,
If it weren’t for doctors, where would we be.
Morning rounds, evening rounds, to think makes my head spin round,
Ward to ward, patient to patient, bed to bed – to see if all’s sound.
And when they aren’t in the hospital, but on a coffee break,
Their real passion comes out, a passion you can’t fake.
Even in a 5-minute respite – it’s ‘patients’, ‘cases’, ‘operations’ and ‘medicines’,
‘Who had what’, ‘who needed what’, and ‘who delivered twins’.
It’s everywhere you go, this ‘doctors’ talk’,
At night, even in your dreams, does it you stalk.
All conversations, whether at breakfast, dinner or lunch,
Revolve around who had what complication, who took the crunch,
Who developed what condition, what miracle drug did its wonder,
Which junior doctor got screwed for what mistake or blunder.
And if you think over time a doctor’s ways you can dilute,
Let me warn you, that all efforts will be barren fruit,

It’s just a matter of time before the IV of ‘doctory’ finds its way into your veins,
And ‘doctors’ garble’ takes over and starts to hold the reigns.
In no time you’ll be rattling about meningiomas and corpectomies;
With a matter-of-factness that you would say ‘wood is made from trees’!!!
You’ll be able to pronounce ophthalmology and spell pediatrics;
You’ll know that ‘bone cement’ is the equivalent of quick fix!
You’ll be saying – I have to ‘suture’ a button on a shirt;
With phrases like ‘got an emergency’, ‘I’m on-call’ do you flirt;
You ask for a scalpel when you really need a knife;
You don’t remember how it was, without pagers in your life!
You aren’t startled anymore when in the middle of the night the phone does ring;
And emergency shunts at 2 AM are an ordinary thing.

You mistake me, good friends, if you think I am complaining,
No, no, these are but jottings of an idle mind wandering,
And wondering too
That if you…

Were to stick a needle into a doctor’s vein,
Any doc will do – sane or insane,
Pull out some blood and send it for a test,
To a laboratory, of course, one of the best,

The blood test would say –

Blood type: Not human, that’s for sure
Diseases: Undiagnosible, but looks hopeless to find a cure!