Friday
I missed my last music class with the crazy hours at work, so we sang for a long time today. I learnt a new taraana in raag Pilu. Neela composed it for a 6-year-old student of hers. It's playful, lyrical and a little tricky but I was able to master it somewhat, though I'm quite lost when it comes to the taal. I'm so exhausted today but relieved that this is my last day at this newspaper. I had to get my clearance form signed by SO many departments. Most people were friendly save for one secretary who behaved exactly like a hostel warden.
Looked down at me from her sliding spectacles and said, "Why have you come now at the last minute? It's the wrong time."
me: I'm sorry, but HR was only able to give me this form today, so its not the last minute.
she: Oh heh, heh, but the person concerned has left.
me: is there anybody else who?
she (interrupts with ultra bitchy voice): see, only certain people are authorised...
me: never mind, I'll let HR know. Thank you for your time.
she: ok..but still it is the wrooong time.
I don't care. No more mind-numbing stories on fiscal deficit and number crunching. No more night shifts though i'll miss the warm glow of sodium vapour lamps lining the empty flyovers as I drive/fly home on them, knowing my husband is up waiting for me. No more working on S U N D A Y S. Life is good.
Friday, January 24, 2003
Wednesday
I got a letter in the mail box today. A real paper and pen letter from Bangalore. Four pages long, in my sister's neat, familiar handwriting. Its been so long since I got a letter from her. Her writing always touches me and evokes so many lovely memories of home and how close we were growing up. E-mail is a wonderful thing, but there is just something so beautiful about a well-written letter.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
Tuesday
I discovered a strange and interesting new place on my web travels today. The Voluntary Human Extinction Movement, whose message is 'May we live long and die out,' advocates the phasing out of the human race by voluntarily ceasing to breed and allow the earth's biosphere to return to health. hmmm. I wonder how long the most dangerous species on earth would take to die out, even if no single new birth occurred from this moment onwards. A couple of hundred years I would think. By then, it would already be too late to save some places on earth, especially Bombay.
The guys who run the web site say they aren't one of those weird suicide cults, in fact, they say the whole of industrialised civilisaton is a giant suicide cult. "We propel our bodies about in fragile metal boxes, at potentially fatal speeds, without much care or reason. We ingest so much poison that meat from our bones wouldn't meet government standards for pork." Thats a pretty funny way of looking at life in the city. They derive hope from the fact that 99 percent of all species that ever lived have gone extinct, "including every one of our hominid ancestors."
Monday
Today one photographer at the office said, "Oho, so you are a activist, scary all these women in movements and all...I knew a girl who worked as an activist once, but I decided I couldn't marry her as she might lead a protest movement against me if I ever fought with her. dangerous babaa." My reaction is Vomit, but i manage a stupefied grin.
Another bearded chief editor smiles in a supercilious, smug manner, "So you ll be championing battered women eh?" So I say no, actually this work is different. So he says, "ohh then what kind of social service can it be?" (stupid grin) I will also start my own NGO and get international funding for my own cause, snort heh heh heh." I want to slap his silly smug face but I say good luck and walk away. What the $%*& is wrong with these guys?
Sunday
We went to the Strand Book Sale yesterday. Ma had been wanting to go ever since it opened but my husband had been too busy and I was enjoying phase two of the casual-leave exhaustion routine, so hadn't been too enthusiastic about the hour-long drive into town. I'm so glad we went because it was so much fun. The sale was very crowded as always. People lined up though and some were polite enough to keep saying excuse me every time they moved or changed direction and some of course, in true bambayya style elbowed their way around Sunderbai Hall. I had been looking for Simone De Beauvoir's Second Sex and finally found a really nice edition. Ma found her favourite Ray Bradbury and also bought me Irawati Karve's Yuganth. I went to the children's section hoping that they would have those beautiful Russian and Ukrainian folk tales that my mother had bought us at book fairs in Bangalore. Great stories of Alyonushka, Baba Yaga and Ivan with wonderful illustrations.
I talked to Mr Shanbagh who said they were brought out by the People's Publishing House which is now closed. Mr Shanbagh is a small balding man with a round smile that makes his eyes disappear. He runs the Strand book store. "I know the ones you are talking about," he said, "you won't find them anywhere now." He saw my downcast face and patted my back. "We have to change with the times, my dear," he said and smiled. I smiled back at his crinkled-up eyes and sauntered back to where my husband was (making fierce faces at those that dared elbow him) snuck up behind him and deliberately elbowed him. He turned around angrily and glared at me, then broke into a reluctant smile and moaned, "Doooon't irritate me ...." ha ha ha.
Sunday, January 19, 2003
