I have been coughing, sneezing and carrying a bad throat ever since the rains came to Bombay. Thanks to the cold I’ve caught (God bless the person who gave me the infection, grrrrrr…!), I keep my tissue papers right next to my reach so that I don’t have to look like a nursery kid with no idea how to behave well in public. Yesterday, I purchased around three to five packets of dry-tissues. The shopkeeper lent his disgusting grunt, like I just brought something that a cold-bearing girl should never buy. Dude! They’re tissues Man! Amusing-MCP-filled-Indian-Society.
Office has been insanely boring and hey it’s started to become annoying. I mean I am not even getting paid for my conveyance, what am I, Reserve Bank of India? I should have actually picked up the job from DIESEL; at least it was interesting besides was to do start blogging for the brand. Trying to act smart by choosing a journalist’s job over a much coveted job just cost me my fabulous stipend. Arrrggghhh!!
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I’m just dying to get back home. I miss my VIPs: Dad, Sister, Mom and grandma-pa. Calling them everyday has been the only mode of contact in these 6 months. (6 Months! Shit! I need to get back home ASAP!) I miss my cat, had she been there, both of us would’ve gorged on milkshakes and ice-creams (Persian cats have serious issues with milk, they prefer (PREFER!) shakes and ice creams), letting my mother awing in wonder as to what has to be done to such junglees.
My sister wistfully informs me yesterday that she had been painting all over my table. Seems she painted it with yellow and blue. I mean I’ve heard of terms like Crazily Creative and so on, but never came across one like this. Madam sisi is Very Creative. (note capitals). She was the one who tore off pieces from my mom’s precious Kanchipuram Sari in the shape of band-aids and stuck right over the brown of the Band-aid. So, whenever she had any cuts or wounds, she would happily wear her colourful creations, walk around and show them off to the world. My mother was sensible enough not to scold my sister, fearing that would be the end of her creativity.
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Whenever I am home, we (Dad, Sis and Me) have a musical concert(like). I would play my Violin and sing; my sister would start on her drum-set and dad would join us singing. When he used to have his guitar with him, he would join in with his guitar-bit (he sold his guitar off lately, Money matters). When Lulu (my cat) used to be prancing around pots and books, she would join in too, with her purring.
Damn! Nostalgia and memories; I love them.
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