Confessions of the Honest kind

She isn't here, again. That naturally means I HAVE to fill in her unwanted shoes - this woeful predicament including cleaning/mopping the house, tossing up some godawful-preparation-that-more-or-less-resembles-chapatis, feeding salty bhajis/watery dals to dad & sis (they're probably pleading for mercy by now), filling empty refrigerator bottles (bottomless pits, I tell you), washing utensils, drying clothes, buying vegetables from the swindling bhajiwaala, attending the door (incredibly irritating especially when you're in the midst of burning a perfectly rhombus-shaped chapati), picking up the screaming telephone (ok ok.... I ignore 9 out of 10 calls) and what not! And to top it all - it is such a thankless exercise. Retribution is merely a mirage. Exactly 10 minutes after you've transformed the kitchen into a sparklingly clean place (no magic wand, mind you.... a humble mop does it after 20 minutes of back-breaking effort), devoid of the colossal mess it was half-an-hour ago, it reverts back to its original dumpy state. Classic case of the Midas un-touch. How tremendous is that? Even for someone with the patience of a saint (me), it is extremely exasperating! By now I passionately *hate* household chores, cooking topping the list.... I'm a disaster, you'd rather starve than gulp down any of my pathetic culinary attempts! I wasn't born to do it (yeah yeah... silver spoon and all). My friends tell me with profound wisdom, "Accha 'training' ho raha hai...." Deep, huh? Lord help the unfortunate recipient of all this 'training' that I'm undergoing. He should go jump off a cliff right now and save himself some serious constipation.

So there it is.... I feel SO much better, now that I've got it down in writing and you, poor reader, as usual have to bear the full brunt. The whining 'ol Avanti is back with a dustbin bag.... err.... I mean - bang!!

Anyway, coming to brighter, more promising things.... I have been tagged by the lovely, much-too-generous Anu. Why she (or anyone else) should consider me tag-worthy boggles even the smartest of minds; and since I've hardly ever been famous for having one, I'll cut the needless ruminating about. So, without further ado, I hereby obediently respond to Anu's tag, the awful delay notwithstanding:

Here's the deal - I must enlist 10 honest things about myself. Ha! I think I've been more honest than a real estate agent trying to palm off a haunted house to you. People often ask why I disclose so much about myself in such a public forum. I say it is because I have nothing to hide. Quite simple it is.

I might as well compile the list rightaway. Statutory Warning: If and when you reach the end of this post, most of you will think I'm a freak. Its tough to pick only 10 of my freakiest habits, but a list must end somewhere. So here it goes:

1. I obsess. Over inconsequential things that I ought not to obsess over. Like that renegade drop of water on the floor or the oil ring that a bottle of oil leaves behind (mop comes out immediately, fierce scrubbing ensues). Also other stupid, silly things like which side of the bed sheet covers my face (I tie a little knot at one end to identify the side, so that the side that shrouds the legs will never cover my face the next time), the number of times I should wash my hair in a week, cleaning of own plates/spoons with a paper-napkin before dining at a restaurant, flushing a public toilet even if it has been flushed clean by the previous occupant, the placement of things on my desk (can't leave their slotted place) and other such freaksome habits. So yeah, I suffer from a mild bout of OCD. Painful stuff.

2. I love compliments. Who doesn't? But wait, here's when it gets funny. When I do get a generous word of praise or two, I just don't bluhdy know how to handle it! Sample this -

Instance 1:

Person A: "Nice earrings, Avanti!"

Avanti: Oh, they are? I think they make my ears droop....

(*wouldn't mind if you'd slapped me right then*)

Instance 2:

Person B: " Wow! You drive the car really well"

Avanti: "Yeah well, you see that dent there - I bumped into a big bad bus the other day....."

(*you can shoot me too now*)

Instance 3:

Person C: "That was a brilliant report, Avanti!"

Avanti: "Yeah, but I don't like the 2 spelling errors I made... I just don't know HOW it happened...!"

(Did anyone say modesty is a virtue? Well, I should be hanged for it)

3. Despite the alleged 'opulent' lifestyle I lead (my only claim to extravagance being a car, a Macbook Pro and a closetful of clothes that I own), I honestly will not fret over loss of the same. Neither do I mind being married to a pauper. I do not crave for the material world. Its just that when I have the means, I go ahead and buy insanely expensive stuff. I'm only too happy to let it all go if need be. (this is not some monk-who-sold-his-ferrari crap... I really mean it).

4. If I see a similar outfit (that I also possess) on any other chick, I will NEVER wear it again. Duplicity is unforgivable!

5. I don't drink tea or coffee. Only bhais ka doodh for me. Go ahead and laugh now.

6. Despite the intimidating, fiercely-independent image that I tend to project, I'm still old-fashioned. If I ever pen a romantic tale, in it guys would chase girls and girls would be coy and shy. Darcy remains my favorite hero till date. They don't make more like him anymore!

7. As a kid, I was a tomboy. Right from cropped hair to an astute dislike for barbies, there was a point in time when I excelled at all things boyish. Playing cricket, strumming the guitar, a craze for video-games (Wolf 3D, NFS Underground, GTA3, Quake 3, Ghost Recon and Formula 1 Racing '99 were my forte), watching WWF, F1, having a weakness for sneakers.... you see.... pretty much everything except whistling or hooting at girls (thank God for small mercies). I'm pretty much reformed now, behave more like a girl and do nothing that I did as a kid. Not that I regret doing them. We all have our phases.

8. The best gift to give me is a book. Fiction only, mind you. The thicker it is, the better. I love the smell of new books. Also fresh newspapers, paint and kerosene. That's it. No more weird stuff.

9. I've had 3 serious crushes till now. One lasted a good 4 years. Never spoke to ANY of them till date. Never found the spunk to.

10. I'm not easily amused. Santa-Banta jokes won't work on me. Nope, not even a polite laugh. Only Rakhi Sawant makes me laugh. She never fails. I admire her for that.

There you go! Whew! That was tough. I have weirder stuff up my sleeves, but I'll save it for another time (can hear collective sighs of relief). After all, I still need to maintain my scarce audience, don't I?

Oh, I need to do one more bit - here are the sweethearts that I must tag (rules, what can I do?). Go ahead, darlings! Confess!

Deepti

Shikha

Indy

Ankit

Arslan

Confessions of a Freak

After a tiring & long day at work, I was unwinding a bit, watching TV casually, zapping across myriad channels that were dishing out their daily dope. At 11.30 pm, suddenly, my phone beeps out aloud, startling me outta my lazy reverie. I make a mental note - I must change my SMS ringtone. Its way too loud. In mild irritation, I pick up the phone and read the message. It read thus:

"Pls reach office tomorrow by 9 am sharp as we have an urgent deliverable. Call me as soon as u reach. Will be in Bombay by afternoon. Urgent GN."

Now... wait a minute, I think. My office doesn't function this way. Nor does my boss SMS his employees at late hours, demanding that they come to office by whatever time at whatever place. Most of all - we do NOT use terms like 'urgent deliverables'. We are not a goods-courier company or a maternity hospital. So, this SMS is certainly not from my boss.

Concerned that the message should reach the right person, lest some important deadline is missed, I SMS back to the number:

"You seem to have reached the wrong number."

Behold the impudence of the chap when he replies:

"Is that supposed to be a joke at this hour?? I want u by 9 am."

I am not to be talked to in this manner. And who is this Smart Alec, who thinks he's frightened me enough to dream about the bad-boogeyman during the night? So I reply sternly, but politely:

"Please leave your name."

I then receive a strange, cryptic reply.

"Thats OK. Will discuss in detail tomorrow. No problem, really"

No problemo with me as well. Intentionally omitting to reply back, I fall into a deep slumber. It has indeed been a taxing, bizarre day.

Next day, true to his promise, the oaf SMSes me again!

"Have you reached office?"

I am in the middle of a meeting, and hardly have the time to entertain some queer bird's idea of a noontime shindig. I ignore the intruding SMS again.

Imagine my surprise when the guy actually calls up! It's a sophisticated, well-heeled voice, "Is this Vaishali?" he asks innocently (as if he doesn't know! Two days of constant ignoring of messages, he still expects me to be the one he is looking for!). I was about to lose my cool, but somehow, I calmly say, "No, I DON'T happen to be her. Please do NOT call me or SMS again. And please check your number." I disconnect the line.

When I receive his message again, at 11 pm... I am distinctly amused. This is a prank, for sure. Has to be.

"Pls accept my heartfelt apologies for the faux pas. Appreciate the poise. Cheers"

Compliments now, huh? I decide to play along:

"Will do"

As if this served as a green light, he happily SMSes back:

"Poise, alright! Thanks much"

I am mighty bored by now. The prank has run its course. Someone, somewhere has loads of free time on his platter. I do not reply back, dismissing the entire operation as a failed one.

Eerily, a couple of days after, the jerk SMSes again!!

"Sorry for the bother.. was watching an interview. Gayatri Devi.. you sound so much like her, methinks of course, the poise.. must be similar?? Cheers"

Gayatri she-is-so-freakin-dead Devi??!! WTF??!! I can't decide what I feel more - amusement or irritation. But this has gone far enough now. Whoever you are - friend or foe, this is NOT funny. I will not entertain some goofball who thinks this persistent stalking will make me shit bricks. One more SMS/call from you.... I gonna report you. I have your number, you idiot.

And you certainly won't find anything 'poised' about me then.