Abuzz with Activity!

Yeah well. My work inbox is finally getting some useful, work-related emails. I hope I’ve left behind the days when my inbox said ‘No mails? You can always read Google News!’, because I don’t think there’s anything more humiliating than your inbox telling you what to read.

In other news, I’m happy. Like REALLY happy and stuff. I’m busy doing something constructive, I’m shopping a lot, and this whole Diwali season leaves me feeling really excited and in a looking-forward-to-life mode. Alright, the gifts and the clothes do contribute largely to my happiness, but that’s not all. The winking lights in windows, the lamps, the diyas, people’s last-minute shopping frenzy, the aromas of Diwali sweets wafting through the air and tickling the insides of your nose, everything is so pleasing to the senses that you just don’t want the season to end. And why would you, with all those sales and discounts signs poking you in the eye from all shop windows?

One thing Diwali could do without are those crackers, though. I mean, really, I insist on doing without a dilating heart, thank you so very much. So many time, you’re trying to savour the fluffy, delicious, karanji you’re mum gave you, and the minute you try sinking your teeth into it BOOM BOOOM CRACK! go the fireworks. So all you’re left with it is lots of smoke creeping into your window, an untouched karanji and a badly bitten tongue. And what do you achieve with all that noise and smoke, anyway? C’mon, it can’t make you happy!

In other news, my friend Doordarshan just came back from a small trip to Delhi. Although there’s no news peg to that, you’ll have to wait till I give you the gory details. Here’s a small digression, though. Doordarshan’s sister is like a really hotshot CA, and she goes to a new place in the world once a month or so (for work she says, HAH!). So far she’s been to bizarre places like France, Belarus (who the fuck gets to go there?), Italy, Germany, Switzerland, US (she goes here as often as we go to the loo, sometimes, even more!), Hong Kong, China, Pattaya, and a thousand other places it hurts me to name. I’ve tried to get her to get me in as her chambermaid or chaperone or anything else starting with ‘cha’, but things don’t look good. Anyway, the detour to the story ends here.

Well, this sister of Doordarshan’s decided to take him to Delhi this last weekend (because she was assigned a place in India, for once). So off went Doordarshan, waddling with his backpack and hopping onto a flight to New Delhi. Ok, I’m not concerned about that either. What I don’t get is, why he gets to live at the Taj Palace Hotel in New Delhi’s Diplomatic Enclave, with a fancy bathtub and bathrooms with transparent doors and springy beds and central air-conditioning. All sponsored by his sister’s workplace. Do you get the gravity of the situation? Do you NOT get the grave injustice that us commoners with non-fancy sisters are subject to? Now I have two sisters. But the only workplace privileges they’ve offered me is a pen and an Akbarally’s gift voucher (the pen didn’t work beyond 3 days and I never claimed the voucher). And here are people who have privileges to go live in the Taj (in rooms that cost Rs. 16,000 per day, let me add) and are loving enough to take their kid siblings along. ‘Nuff said. I will cease ranting about that and let the tears flow in silence. Sniff.

In totally other news, Snooty is out on a junket in Malaysia. (Seriously, what is with people and paid trips to fancy places?) and I can’t wait for him to come back. Why? Because he’s promised me an exhaustive road test of the new Hyundai Getz somewhere in Churchgate. And if this time I can’t go, I might as well slit my wrists. Believe you me, I WILL. And Snooty’d better come back soon now because my phone is used to the constant beeping and vibrating with the messages. The silence is killing me. Oh alright, I’m missing him loads. But just don’t tell him, ok?

Hmm….This is turning out to be like a really long post and it’s getting really late on this side of town. So I’m not going to be formal with you, O Dear Reader, and end this without a conclusion. Toodle-oo me hearties! Leave me them comments.

*Abrupt ending*.