Hi everybody,
I am going to write this in propah Queen’s English as I hear I’ve been giving that good old lady and a certain Indian author (who shall be unnamed)- nightmares. Also I hate Charlie boy’s horsy mug and don’t want a tampon to suddenly turn into a King. So I’m minding my ps and qs , my full stops and commas ( if not my comas). My language skills started their downslide as soon as I joined medicine. Doctors are notoriously disadvantaged calligraphers and their writing skills are suspect- their spouses send the love letters to the nearest chemist to be deciphered! What was started by medicine is being given the finishing touches by my daughter who loves a new language- SMSese. Her SMSes leave a lot to be not only desired but also understood. I am often extremely frustrated by their gobbledygook. If I protest I’m supposed to” chill out Mom” or be labeled a retro geek. I’m fast catching up with the finer nuances of SMSese and will soon become unreadable. Plus I’m generally in a tearing hurry ( working women the world over walk the giddy tight- rope of multi-tasking). So I pull all my full stops and commas out and hope you all can make out my meaning. However Nargis can take heart- I manage to regularly get published in Indian Express and my journals though my life’s desire is to make it to the TOI’s middles (muddles).
Nargis you also share another characteristic feature with me-the one thing that puts me off foreign jaunts is the food- I lost 4 kgs on my continental tour and only then realized what a ghati I am- I’m strictly a poli-bhaji person (chapatti to all you non- M) and can’t stand the sight of bread after 2 days. The smell of cold meat makes me feel like a pregnant woman with her morning sickness, so dieting is de- rigueur and involuntary. Ashu, being my sib pretends to be a vegetarian whenever the overseas la-di- dah owners of their fleet invite the esteemed Captain Inamdar and his lovely lady to a sit-down dinner. This causes last-minute panic attacks amongst the Cordon- Bleu chefs who doff their tall caps and scratch their collective heads- “ wot is a vegetarian?” End result- Ashu is served mashed- hashed potatoes and stewed cabbage as the entrée, main course and stewed pumpkin in some sauce as dessert! Mils is meanwhile glaring at her and enjoying or pretending to enjoy the gourmet meal. Ashu is wise though – God knows what lies beneath those fancy trappings.
So you got to meet Amitabh Palit. Well I have met the original in Kolkata when I was on holiday there though I would love to repeat the experience now – he’s infinitely better looking now. And speaking of the duplicates, has Amitabh married a short Bengali doctor who was for a short while my room-mate at MKCG in Bam? Stanley must be incurably romantic (? morontic) – he was busy unearthing secret and not-so-secret crushes of everyone we knew. He also got me to admit that I had a crush on (okay guys and gals – I’m blushing and truly ashamed) – Imran Khan. Stan’s theory is that our Indian womanly collective psyche thrills to the prospect of macho, marauding, muslim males from across the border who will carry us off against (againest Sarita?) our wills.
Sorry Stan –that is not the way the cookie crumbles now- we go in for uber-cool, sensitive men who can change nappies, burp babies, have a colossal sense of humour and also cry! Tall order this. My personal favourite is the priest in “The Thorn Birds” (though don’t tell Sister Roseline this)- there is something so deliciously naughty about seducing somebody hell-bent on a life of chastity!
Hey this is enough from me-temporary hibernation does not give me the right to hog the entire blog. Now everybody will be wary of giving me an inch –I go on to take the entire yard.