Tucked Away In My Heart - Sweet Serenades

"I wanna hold your haaaaaaand", he crooned. I nodded a happy blush...

Mind you this was still virtual love. He was still In Thailand, I was still in India. And yet here we were, dreaming of wispy curtains and Central Park style strolls (ummm...the places where either of us stayed, chances of a 4*4 patch of green were a hope, Central Park....yeah, right!). We slowly (!) got to know each other better. The 'escalation' of feelings was frenetic and we enjoyed the progression.

My morning would start off with stretching my arms - the right to stretch, the left to skim over the touchpad of my laptop to wake it up. (By this time, I, we, had started sleeping - in our respective places, naughty minds - with our laptops on - he used to sing me to sleep, I used to ping him when 'Hey I'm awake'!) I'd check whatever last few messages he'd left and swing my legs off my bed with the proverbial smile on my face and spring in my step. Brushing became a dancing activity and getting ready an enjoyable task rather than a what-do-i-wear-today-hartrumph-grrrr chore. I skipped out of home to the waiting cab (hey, I had a generous office!) enough times for my father to comment - "feeling rather lambish, aren't we" in amusement. "Aah what a beautiful morning - hey why are you so grumpy?" "Ummm....just - it's been raining cats and dogs, my newly done hair got undone coz of this incessant pouring - what are YOU so jolly about?" - this last one from my cabmate in response to my rose-colored view of a gloomy morning. Reached office, quickly got my most critical tasks out of the way, handled the few troubled (till now miserable, nasty, negative people) souls with what they needed before I settled down happily with Bhavna and Mala to 'discuss threadbare' the nuances of 'last night's Nonuvations'....conversations are a)boring, b)could con you...but Nonuvations(Copyright, Trademark and all that legal jargon in the name of this oooh! damsel) - aah - For Nonu, Of Nonu, By Nonu!

And then it would be time for me to call Nonu and wake him up. With a song. My favorite song for that day.

We had a happy songy thing going. He'd sing me to sleep, I'd sing him awake.

Serenading sure can be fun.

Tucked Away in my Heart - Higher Gear

How was I so sure I wanted to marry him? Like I said before – value systems, so important for both of us – as I’m sure for most people – matched, I loved his sense of humor and his being so articulate. A whole new saga of love had begun. I would chat with him all night, he would sing me to sleep – literally – not just hum – sing…what a voice…sigh…office would pass by in a blur and a flurry of email exchange…we could, neither one of us, wait till I got back home so we could chat. I was beginning to feel the butterflies turn into mammoths…and I didn’t mind. The only thing that was flummoxing me was – how could I feel butterflies for a person who I had not even seen? That brought me to my belief of the possibility of being turned on by more than just physical attributes. Could I actually be so lucky? Wow!

Not very strangely – I’m just a supremely confident person – I did not feel any insecurity, any second doubts about him or being with him or even his interest in me. We just got into the groove as if we were destined to be – no questions asked, no doubts raised. We started looking out for each other as would man and wife, “Did you get your dinner?” “No honey, not yet, I’ll just get some.” “Nonu, you will fall sick. Everyday I ask you about dinner and everyday you tell me you are delayed. Acidity ho jayegi na, baby” “ok promise, I will eat on time tomorrow.” Or “Nonu..” “hmmm?” “nonu, I want to go dancing with my friends on Saturday night” “ok, that sounds good. Where are you guys planning to go?” “XYZ place” [pause] “baby, are you sure you want to go there? Not a very safe place for women to go to is what I’ve heard.” “ummmm…we’ll be a group of people.” “got any men coming?” “yes…you know Ankur, right? Monika’s beau? And Nannu – my best friend” “oh, OK…if he’s there, then that’s fine.” “did you pay your phone bill bachcha?” [– I tell you that bachcha used to make me swoon] “nooooo, I forgot!” “Bachcha, if they disconnect your phone, where will I call and talk?”

I started dreaming of my life with him…a sprawling house in Faridabad, white French windows that opened out into a lush garden, lace curtains, a brown dog with floppy ears…an open kitchen, Frank Sinatra playing in the background, me cooking the vegetables, Nonu making the rotis [chuckle…I’m the devil in disguise…I loathe making rotis….effective delegation is the name of the game…or should I say effective blackmail….tee hee], two cars in the driveway – he was emphatic I learn how to drive….the works. He started to act on making my dreams a reality. Sent instructions to get the house painted white and the curtains to be changed to the wispy white lace we both saw and closed on the internet. His mother actually asked him one day – “what’s going on?” That’s the day he told his parents he’d found me. General happiness all around!

Halleluiah! My life was moving in the fast lane.

Addicted

Ok...you know you're addicted to Facebook (substitute with Orkut, Hi5, Tagged...) if you have a flight to catch at 5 in the morning and right from midnight to 3:30 in the AM you're responding to people who've tagged you sexy, hot, pretty, gorgeous, gasp! and so on....can't be impolite to them, can you. So you think you're just being (very flattered and...) well - mannered. After all, there's a reason why you got an education and a to-die-for upbringing! You suddenly realize that's not the only thing you've done in the last 3.5 hours...you've also opened the Facebook inbox in a new tab, along with photos - on which you're commenting, applications - which you're editing, The Birthday Calendar - You DO have to maintain relationships, really!!!, all in proud little tabs of their own ( I use the magical IE 7) THAT'S when you know you're addicted.

No? OK...How about the fact that you haven't packed yet, you haven't had 40 winks (it was Sunday after all...who sleeps on Sunday?), you have a flight in 2 hours and a LO-HON-G day looming up? How about that you're dying to go eat something (What do you mean you've NEVER heard of hunger pangs at 2:30 in the dark AM?) but don't step down coz it might mean missing out on a chat?

Still not convinced? How about if I remind you of the fact that the last hug you received was "thrown" at you by one of your facebookers from across the globe? Or even that the last plant you saw was actually a tulip beseechingly sent to you by L'il Green Patch? And oh, that you last 'spoke' to your favorite cuz by writing on her "Wall"?

D&^%...just realized...I've been writing for the last 3.75 minutes...better get back to the other screen...who knows what someone might have written on my wall, thrown at me, bought me for how much money or worse still, won more points than me by being there?...

Tucked away in my heart – Articulating…

He responded to me two days later with a, “I took your parting shot and was busy trying out the food on various flights from Mumbai to Singapore and then to Thailand. Thank you for the bon appétit. I know it’ll be early evening for you, so are you back home from work? And can we connect on yahoo messenger? While I truly believe in the power of letters (well, ok, emails), instant messaging is just so much more, well, instant, for one and real time for another. AND there’s a voice chat feature, so if you have a mike and speakers, we can actually talk! Till I hear from you, I shall cook.¨ Hmmm, I thought to myself. Someone who can articulate himself with some semblance of wit. Let’s see what he’s got. I added him to my yahoo list under the “friends¨ group and sent him a ping ‘I’m here. What’s taking you so long?’ No response. I looked at the screen for about 45 seconds. Nothing. I wrote him off in my head and just when I was turning away from the laptop, I saw the window flash. “Hey! Was caught between responding to you immediately and a chicken on fire. Decided to attend to the chicken first, else I wouldn’t have been able to establish my prowess as a cook :D!¨ “Oh my. And a chicken-on-fire takes precedence over me?”, I asked. “Only till such time we decide we’ll be eating together!¨, came the prompt reply.

My attention was definitely caught with the pert reply as much as it was with this man comfortable enough to tell me he cooked and he cooked well. A few more wittily polite messages later, he asked me for a voice chat. Interesting. Gentleman enough to ask for my permission and not presumptuous enough to hit the “talk¨ button on his own. He had my undivided attention at hello, to almost borrow a quoted - and much used - line. What a rich, deep voice. Clark Gable. Amitabh Bachchan. You name the demi-gods with rich baritones and he could beat them silly, mouth closed, with his voice. And so well spoken. And articulate. And I’m drooling again, just thinking about him.

That night, over Yahoo, you dirty minds, we found we shared the same value systems - the most important to both of us and non-negotiable. We both loved to read and listen to music, so much so that we liked the same genre of music - rock. We both had similar tastes when it came to colors as well - we both loved blue. We both worked with NGOs - the difference being I worked for people who were struck by AIDS and he with street children. All in all, it looked good. It felt like falling in step with someone I’d known forever and we both actually joked about the “saat janam” bit that you hear in b-grade movies. Somewhere in the middle of the conversation, I excused myself for a few minutes and as I was walking out, I heard him softly sigh, “Lady, where have you been all my life?” I smiled and said to myself, “Where have YOU been?” The night flew by and took along with it any need for sleep. A conversation with him was as heady as coffee. And quite as refreshing.

In the morning, I walked out of my room and into my parents’ and made an announcement that left them stunned - remember, this was early in the morning and they were still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. “I’ve found the man I want to marry” is what I’d just said to them.

Of Maids and Their Ilk

Recently a good friend of mine wrote on the travails of maids. Her line of fear - not thought - was her maid would run away with her 'boyfriend'.

Mine is that our maid will drive us all mad and subsequently to the verge of some chronic disease.

What is it with them? Why can I not find someone who has an iota of a brain and knows not to wash colored clothes with white? Who knows that a white shoe goes with a white one and not with navy blue or brown! Who knows that one cannot broom up all the dust in the room when the fan is on. And one who knows it's OK to ask and eat rather than be caught eating without - THAT's the surest way out of the door.

Let me tell you about this morning. We have a fully automatic washing machine. You know - the kinds that will wash to rinse to spin and to part dry for you? THOSE kinds. Don't ask me what she did, but my maid actually managed to take out wet clothes - WET clothes from the said machine and put them out on the line to "dry". And of course, a few of them fell on the terrace - a usually clean, cemented terrace, ringed by potted plants. I have NO idea what she did up there - but when I went up, I saw a row of "clean" clothes smudged with - gasp - mud! SHe managed to get the terrace dirty, managed to get what were till sometime back clean clothes stained and she had calmly stepped down to the ground floor without cleaning either!

नहीईईईईईईईईईईईईई

Boy, you can't blame me for losing my cool the way I did. And did I lose it!

And this is just the tip of the iceberg in my woes against this particular maid.

Maid-line number, anyone?

Tucked Away in my Heart - The Beginning

Let me take you back to the start.

I "met" Nonu via a matrimonial website - not a very subtly named one at that. Yes, in today's day and age, I still want my parents to look for a suitable "boy" for me. My parents had been after my life to get married and had gone ahead to make me yet another one along with a gazillion others wishing to get married - so much for your identity and meeting - and falling in love with - the right person and so on. I was dead set against this way to holy matrimony, but the powers-that-be - my parents - were dead set for it. Guess who won.

But I digress. SO, I got to know Nonu via a matrimonial site. I took one look at his profile, gave him the once-over, and passed him by saying, “he doesn't look or sound exciting enough. Next, please." And I thought that was the end of it. But no. My sweet father went ahead, gave his profile more than the once over and, giving me a very grieved look, "He's tall, decent looking and well educated. What more do you want? Meet him once and listen to what he has to say, please." Guess what happened.

When my father finishes a sentence with a "please" it means get it done and get it done now. So, there I sat, staring at my laptop screen in the dead of one very cold January night, trying to politely reply to his email -thanking him for his interest in my profile. Not me, mind you, my profile. On matrimonial websites, we are not a person. We are a "profile". I looked at his words - "Went through your profile. It interested me at first, then made me smile, captivated me with a firm grip and finally made me laugh out loud. What a refreshing change from the usual boring 'sarva gun sampann' write-ups. If you find my profile interesting too, do get in touch with me. My email ID is..." And of course, when I went through his profile, it was as cut and dry as they come. Talked about his family - a business one, in the outskirts of the place I belonged to (mental tick 1. I have always wanted to stay close to where my parents are.), about his siblings - only brother to three loving sisters (mental cross 1. THREE sisters? I'd be squashed!), about the fact that they were a super close family (mental ? 1. Aren't we all?). It also talked about the fact that he was project manager with a large IT firm (ho hum) and that he loved to eat - a complete foodie (mental tick no. 2.), that he loved to cook (mental tick no. 3.) and that he loved to travel and wanted to visit every nook and cranny of the world (mental tick no. 4. Deal Clincher.). I decided to write back to him."Hi, Thanks for showing an interest in my profile". Backspace all the way to the comma after the ‘hi.’ Sounded too gratified that he'd even so much as looked. Hello, this is me we're talking about. "Hi, Glad you dropped by." Backspace all the way again. As if I was waiting for him - or anyone else - to. Many attempts later..."Hi, Well I'm a success. I made at least one person on the earth laugh. :) Went through your profile. Must say your love for food and travel are what really made me write back to you. I have two questions for you to start with. What's the most different thing you've eaten? And, what's the prettiest place you've been to till now?

Till I hear from you, bon apetit."

I hit the "send" button.

Isolation

...Is not good for me,
Aaaisolation...
I don't want to live on a lemon tree...

As a popular song's lyrics go, I've found that solitude is one thing isolation is not for me.
For the last 10 odd days I have been isolated - by choice - from all I hold dear - my parents, the rest of my family, my books, hell (pardon the cuss word), even my bed! To be fair to me, I embarked on the journey with all seriousness and fastidious resolve . And managed fairly well for about, umm…honestly…well, 5 whole days till the smell of home made masala-laden food wafted up my nostrils. This from the first floor of the 2 –storied apartments I had chosen to (w)hole myself in. Waaaaaaah, I wanted my mommy. (Oh hey, I know I’m a certain age but who EVER stops wanting their mommy?). So after a long weepy call with her here’s all of what I found:
1. Living in isolation is not the easiest of things to do. I now shudder when I think of those in solitary confinement. What a cruel, cruel punishment
2. We NEVER stop wanting our mothers and the special flavor of the food they make
3. Try as we might, the rajma will NOT be as good as ma makes it
4. I am too much of a creature of comfort. I spent the first 6 days ordering things from home and now the last 3 days requesting for this and that while I’m waiting to be picked up at the end of my voluntary confinement
5. The air conditioner is a luxury no more!
6. Much as you love to cook when you live alone, you WILL eat Marie biscuits and bread (not together obviously, but these will be the first thing you reach out to when hunger pangs gnaw at that great crumbling wall we call ‘stomach’)
7. If not diabetes and heart-attack, the water problem in this country WILL kill you one day.
8. I can survive 10 days without eating anything (this of course does not apply to Marie biscuits).

So, so much for the learnings and big words like isolation solitude searching for oneself. I'll leave those to the mahayogi's. For me, the gnawing increases.

I’m just happy to be going back home today.

Tucked Away in my Heart – Ennui

Is what i'm writing a result of my ennui coz I don't have any work to do or is it because i'm grappling with coming to terms with a situation? What is it?

Why am I going through this roller coaster of tumultous emotions? Angry one minute, sad the next, nostalgic this moment, perfectly normal the other? Why is it so difficult to rein them all in one nonchalant feeling? Does everyone, who's loved and watched that love losing go through these? Why is my pride stopping me from reaching out to anyone and talking to them. All my friends used to come to me...so why can't I go to them with what's bothering me? Because it's between me and Nonu. My best friend - Lambie -he's coming...but do I dare to speak to him about any of this? More than it being between me and Nonu, lambie will kill...me and Nonu both...actually he won't even be bothered about Nonu. He'll just kill me...I can almost hear him....do you NOT have ANY brains? WHY did you go? Why did you have to meet him? WHY could you have not controlled whatever it was that you were feeling when you knew things were not working out?...Oh GOD...if I had the answers to any of these why's I'd be able to control myself and the situation. The only answer that I have right now is that this is never going to work. None of my fervent prayers will help, all my promises to the Supreme Being of leaving chocolates and non-vegetarian for life will go waste. None of this will work out the way I want it to...because it takes two...and there's only one...

Ennui...resulting from dilemmas...born out of lack of answers...arising out of Nonu's...ennui?

Life comes full circle