Blast from the past :) :

Okay so I was looking into the huge number of posts that make this blog. I am generally cleaning up and intend to no longer remain Anonymous by the end of the next 6 months or so.

Hopefully.

Anyways, so while I was sifting through the 300 odd posts, I came across some arbit post about what my ideal husband would be like. It was quite an interesting read to know what almost 5 years younger R thought about all this and to compare it with who I finally did marry, Sid!

(Also I was called Moonwalker then and hence by Mr Moonwalker I refer to my future husband)

First point:
The most important thing for me is the character of the guy. Simple as that. I cannot bear flirts. Okay ,a lot of you would belong to the genre which believes flirting to be as healthy as 3hrs of yoga followed by a gigantic bowl of fresh fruits but i am as far from that group of people as is Pluto from Mummy Earth.So , Mr.MoonWalker has to be someone who doesn’t faint with excitement/get hyper/crack those i-am-sucha-dude jokes each time something in a skirt walks by.

I still think this is the most important thing in the man you seek to marry. And luckily for me, and touchwood, Sid is certainly not a flirt, much to my happiness. I dont know how women tolerate men who flirt outrageously. No, I do not buy the concept of healthy flirting.

Apart form that, times have indeed changed. Pluto is no longer a planet. Sob. Sob.

Second point:
As far as looks are concerned, no modern day Adonis is required.Hmm..just discussed this with Ma, she is real cool okay. So according to her, those,lean guys in thoda baggy white tees, specs, padhai-likhai waala luk are my types..hehe...maybe...the only thing is that Mr.MoonWalker's nose should be presentable..bus! submarine! helicopter!

Lean: No, not really.
Thoda baggy white tees: No, I have never seen Sid in a baggy white tee. In fact his casual clothes also sometimes look formal to me.
Specs: No
Padhai- Likhai wala luk: Hmmm…a lot of my relatives say that he looks really studious. But he was never really the maggu types. But yes, if we go by popular vote, he does look padha likhai wala
nose should be presentable: I love Sid’s nose. And all's good with the nose, all's good with everything!

Third Point:
Well read. Now see, most guys run at a good to very good average speed when brought face to face with a buk. The putative Mr.M should not be one of them. A fellow P.G.Wodehouse fan would be heaven sent. This is classic example of wishful thinking.*deep sigh!*.A bad case of wishful thinking.

Yes, that is what it now seems to be. A bad case of wishful thinking. No, Siddharth is no book lover like me, though he does pick up a book once in a while and there are loads of his books i found below our bed one fine day some 7-8 months after coming to London. He loves his cricket and his formula One. It was no surprise to me that he has just downloaded for 59 pence a game called ‘Need for Speed’ on my Iphone.

Fourth Point:
See, the problem with me is that even though I might have hundreds of things to say when some serious, emotional matter is under discussion, I just end up saying something totally non commital. My closest friends have braved these kinds of situations with admirable strength, valor and determination.*applause* I generally just hurriedly end the discussion as thousands of things scream their lungs out, silently, inside my teeny-weeny head. I can only hope that Mr.MoonWalker somehow understands this. He can also take Ms N's. 'how-to-manage-Ms-MoonWalkeer' classes held on Mondays from 6 in the evening. I hear she is quite good. God bless her.

Hmmm............well I do remain the same person from all those years ago. And this irritates Sid. But he has learnt to live with it, poor soul.

Fifth Point:
I get scared of people very easily. I hope Mr.M is one of those non-scary types. I would not like to be scared of Mr. MoonWalker. A simple guy would make a very nice Mr. MoonWalker

Mr Moonwalker wants things to work with military precision. But I don’t mind it because hopefully that will make me a more alert person.

Sixth Point:

Mr.MoonWalker should not dictate my way of living. If I want my hair streaked red( right now i have honey-brown streaks ,by the way)and Mr MoonWalker happens to have a distinct proclivity towards blonde, he is most welcome to get all his hair coloured blonde. Mine shall be streaked red . Full stop. Period.

No, Sid would never have a problem if I got my hair colored in which ever color I want. He might tell me it looks disgusting if I ask him. But if I cry once he says that, he might even tell me that he was just kidding and my hair looks great :P

Seventh Point:
I live by some rules..I have a pronounced sense of what's right and what's not. You see, I need to respect myself, I need to be able to look myself back in the eye when I look in the mirror( which since is very often...ahem..), I am very bothered about what I think of myself. This has to be understood by Mr.M. I am neither as frivolous as most girls nor as silly (atleast most of the times till I don’t see anything PINK .Then I go crazy).

Okay Living in a place like London where everything is OK this bit of my personality is something I have been thinking about. I do think that Sid likes this in me and appreciates me for who I am. Atleast I hope he does :)

Eighth and last point:
It would be nice if there are some common things that both of us want to do .It would be nice if he likes to travel, it would be nice if he likes mountains, we could plan stuff together and have a nice time doing it. It would be nice if Mr. M is a teeny, just a teeny teeny bit like me.

No, in a marriage you can't look at things at a macro level, all things become micro. And no two people can be similar at that level. We ( by we i mean human beings )are just not made that way. There are many similarities, we both work hard, are not really party people, dont mind plopping infront of the TV.....But yes talking about travelling, he does love to travel in fact he loves it much much more than I do. But I am getting closer to his level....

It is funny how Mr. Moonwalker is now Sid who I know and love. He is not some arbit man who I will meet in the future. When I was younger, on those rare occasions when I was not mugging up stuff, I would wonder what the guy I would marry was doing right then. On a number of occasions I had memorized the date so that I would ask my husband what he was up to that day whenever I met him. Unfortunately, even I do not remember any of dates except one.

It was the 29th of December, 2004. I now know what Sid would have been up to that day. He would have been celebrating as that would have been his 24th birthday. :)

Those of you with a lightning quick mind would have therefore figured out that today is Sid's 30th birthday.

Happy birthday, baby. Have a wonderful year ahead :)

Love
R

P.S. For those interested in the link to the post I am talking about is this: http://smilethesmile.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_archive.html

Marrakech, Morocco, Day Two.

So today started with a roof top breakfast with a view of the Atlas Mountains. Cris, our Romanian Riad manager joined us then to give us some more tips for the day and help us plan the rest of the trip.

By the end of the day we have walked for over 8 hours non stop exploring the city by foot.

The first stop of the day was Madrassa. We met a guy who was writing stuff in beautiful Arabic Calligraphy. We got our names written by him! Then we headed towards the Museum and spent some hours there.

We then came back to the main square walking through the souks, and found an Italian place for lunch(!). Then it was back to the hotel to catch a quick nap.
Refreshed after the half an hour nap, we set out again and walked almost upto the walls of the medina. We managed to find the Saadian Tombs and agreed that we have much grander things back home in India. Feeling all superior about it we left the tombs as happy Indians.

We then found a smaller square which had a multitude of cats and sat on the one of the benches there to rest our aching feet. Once we felt like we could walk again, we made our way back to the main square, waked around to the minaret, found some nice gardens there and spent a few minutes absorbing the beauty of them.

The main square today had newer things to offer. There were acrobats, jokers,, fortune tellers in addition to the regular lots. Also today there were a lot more people singing and in general making a lot of noise. There was this new guy there who would burst into bollwood songs each time we would pass him. Also, I noted this rather irritating habit of the younger lot to shout out ‘Indian, Indian’ when we would pass in order to attract our attention. Both Sid and I have mastered the art of ignoring everyone around us because of the rather aggressive way in which these people sell there wares.

Anyways, we had food at one of the stalls (stall no one one seven, will take you to heaven!) and came back to the Riad at 7:30 absolutely tired after SO much of walking.

I will put up the pics for the day once i am back in London and have that amazing
broadband speed back again!

Love

R

Morocco, Day One.

So, I am typing away from the lounge of a Riad in Morocco.(Riads are traditional Moroccan homes). Sid and I are here because 29th of December is Sid’s 30th birthday and since he refused each gift i suggested, including the very convenient Ipad, I finally decided on a 5 day trip to Marrakech, the cultural capital of Morocco.

Anyways, so today was day one the trip. Thankfully our flight did take off (London has been snowed down really bad this time of the year) and we reached Marrakech on time, safe and sound.

A taxi came to pick us up and dropped us off at a point where it could go no further. Once there, a cart came to pick us up! We then walked through labyrinths of this fascinating city to reach out Riad. It certainly is an oasis of calm in the madness of the city.

The mangers of the Riad welcomed us with mint tea and tiny biscuits while explaining the maps and giving us helpful inputs about the city.

We are staying a room called the ‘Berber Room’ named after a native tribe of morocco. Both of us having slept really late night, and awake since 4 in the morning, promptly fell asleep and woke up refreshed at around 5.

I spent the first day roaming around the city and I must say it is such a colourfully vibrant city. We walked the souks and the roamed the main square. There is such an eclectic mix of things happening there! So there are snake charmers, story tellers, water sellers, food stalls, spice merchants, henna girls, men with mokeys, men with tortoises from the atlas mountains, men with dead hedgehogs, men selling stuffed faces of dead goats, men singing traditional music....the list just goes on and on.

The souks (or traditional markets) sell everything from spices to key chains to scarfs to figurines to food. The colour in some of them is just fascinating for someone like me who loves colors!

The spice merchants





However, there are somethings that hit me as well.



People are desparate for money. Some guy in fancy dress needs to see you look at him with a camera in hand and he will be on top of your head asking for money the very next instant. People, I don’t know why, have often in the first day asked us our religion. It goes like this:

Q: Pakistani?

We: No, Indians.

Q: Muslims?

We: No.

Q: Indians?

We: Yes.

Q: Shahrukh Khan! Amitabh Bachchan!

We then just laugh indulgently. It is also a fascinating study to see how Indian is equal to Bollywood here! And this is the local Moroccan I am talking about.

We met another man who kept on saying that Amitabh Bachchan is his brother. Also, we kind of lost our way when returning (it is impossible to remember the way! It is
just so very confusing!) and then this hoard of Moroccans descended on us to help out but obviously in return for money. And as the boy led us to our Riad, I felt really scared because i had no idea where we were going and if we were going in the right direction.

Anyways, we came in time for our dinner at 8 that the Riad had arranged for us tonight and we had a lovely time eating a Moroccan meal. Every possible shelf in the Riad has books on it. I can have a great time just sitting in and flipping through the books!

With that meal, a little more conversation, we decided to call it a day.

It has been an interesting day so far. I just hope Sid likes his gift 

Love

Ruchita

Family Legend

So, I was in class 8 I think when I met him first. In his mid 50s, semi bald and an easy grin on his rather sweet looking face, he was the third maths tutor Mum and Dad found for me. He was also a patient of my Dad and the two had known each other for a long time.

At that point in time when we first met Khan Sir, he had been suspended from his job for sometime and was looking at teaching kids to make some money. He had been caught taking a bribe. Of Rupess 500.

No, I am not kidding. He told that to us himself with endearing frankness that brought out a rather inconvenient giggle from me.

Anyways, that is not the point. There is this one particular incident I want to talk about.

So, my house is the last house on the road. Beyond that is a wall that separates our colony from the rest of world and the ‘naala’. ‘Nalaa’ is a big drain, for the benefit of my friends who do not know Hindi. Now those days for some other work, that wall had been brought down temporarily. So basically we were spending days whiffing in the delicious smell emanating from the Nalaa.

Just to put things in perspective, the Nalaa did a noble job. It carried the bodily wastes of the entire colony to I don’t know where. I really don’t even want to know where. It was always flowing and once the wall was down I could once in a while hear it make gurgling noises like any small delicate rivulet. Only one could not ignore what the Nalaa carried. We waited with bated breath (literally) for the wall to be put up again.

So one fine day Khan Sir was expected to come at 6 in the evening. 6 came and went but no Khan Sir. But there was nothing new about this, he was often late, and hence this was no cause for worry.

At 6:30 our door bell rang like a hundred times in a frantic mad manner. Alarmed, we hurriedly opened the door to see the local milkman standing outside the door with a scared look on his face.

‘Sa’ab, come quickly’ he told my dad.

‘Why What happened?’, asked my Dad.

‘Khan Sir’, said milkman as if that explained everything.

‘What about him?’, asked my dad.

‘He fell in the Nalaa’

‘WHAT?’ said my dad as he hurriedly made his way to the nalaa. Solely for entertainment purposes I went along with my Dad to ‘rescue’ Khan Sir. In a file, with Dad leading, followed by my brother, the milkman, and another neighbour, the rescue party marched to the Nalaa. I brought the rear end of the rather perfect file sometimes tripping over stones and gravel because of my dainty white heels.

Once we reached the Nala, and it was quite dark by the time we reached, I could hear Khan Sir’s voice coming from somewhere down below. Using my thumb and index finger delicately to close my nose, I gingerly bent forward to peep into the darkness of the nalaa. With my nose shut also, I could smell the strong, pungent odour of ‘bodily wastes’. Our colony is rather big, I thought to myself judging by the amount of substance I could see in the nalaa, happily flowing along.

‘ABC aunty had an upset stomach and had come today morning asking for some medicine’, my brother whispered in my ear before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. He had never really liked Khan Sir.

Khan Sir was sitting cross legged on the floor of the Nalaa looking rather comfortable and waiting patiently for us to do something. He looked up from the Nala as I looked down and are eyes met. Well, that was my tutor sitting in the middle of shit. But it was my tutor nevertheless and one could not really forget the formalities.

‘Hello Sir’, I said my usual greeting.

‘Hello R’, said Khan Sir from down below.

A moment’s silence as Dad, Bhai and the milkman stepped aside to discuss their plan of action.

‘How are you sir?’, I shouted at him. This was my usual second sentence to him. Even in the moment of adversity, we stuck to protocol.

‘Chal raha hai’, he said causally from down below.

After that I really did not know what I could say by way of small talk so I kept shut. The men had in the mean while figured out a way to pull him out. The neighbour and the milkman went to our house and got a ladder which was then put inside the nalaa.

Slowly, after some 15 minutes, Khan sir climbed out of the Nalaa with shit dripping out of every bit of him. Needless to say he stank.

‘Kaise, bhai sa’ab, yeh hua kaise?’ asked my Dad seemingly very interested in how one could end up inside a nalaa. Dad looked like one of those news correspondents who want to ask the man who has come out of the gutter how he is feeling. I giggled. Dad looked at me sternly which made me swallow the rest of the giggle and disguise it into a cough.

Khan Sir grinned sheepishly. And delicately raised his pinkie. Thereby meaning that he had gone there to pee, tripped over a stone and had landed elbow first inside the nalaa. He had spent some 20 minutes inside shouting for help when the Milkman heard him and somehow recognised him.

He had a couple of scratches on his hand and Dad scared of some infection decided to take him to the hospital. The car was brought out, a million news papers spread and Khan Sir made to sit in the front seat as Dad took him away.

It made a great story for years afterwards, and has since been told and retold and re retold a million times. It is now part of the family legend and I thought of sharing it with you guys.

Love
R

P.S. Dad politely asked Khan Sir to freely use our house toilet whenever he felt the need. And each time he took a loo break after that to use our home toilet, my brother and I would look at each other and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Stupid Girl

Okay so there was a stupid girl who worked in a company. She worked very closesly with the Vice President of Sales for Europe Region who was known to be a hard task master and many people were afraid of him in a weird way because the VP never even raised his voice.( And I dont know why I sound like I am telling a bed time story to five year old, that is not my intention)

Anways, this one day, the VP left office with all his bags at around mid day but stupid girl ofcourse went on working. As the day went on Stupid girl kept on working as people started leaving office for home. So much so that around 6 in the evening it was just Stupid girl and 2-3 other people who were left in the rather large office floor.

Now, once done with work, Stupid Girl had some personal calls to make, one to Morocco and the other to India. But she did not want to do that in the open office space where she did not want to disturb the few people who were still working. Also mobile phones have a very bad reception in office hence the only way out is to make use of the IP phones in office. The VP's office was all empty, so she decided to get in there to make the calls as often people would go in to make calls or do their own work quietly.

So, there she was in the VP's cabin, the whole office quiet. She shut the door and started making the calls....once done she thought she would make a quick call to her mother since her phone had no charge and if she callled by the time she left office her mum would have gone to bed.

So with that noble thought, Stupid Girl dialled another number, and started a quick chat with her Mum.

Mum: What number is this?
SG: Office, but I am not at my desk, i am in the VPs room
Mum: Ohh say my hi to him!
SG: Mum!!! why would the VP be here, he is gone, thats why I am in his cabin. As if he would be here.

And with that Stupig Girl looked up. Looked up only to see, through the glass doors, the VP standing outside the closed door smiling... no almost laughing. at how stupid girl was soo comfortably sitting in his cabin, in his chair, using his IP.

Why he had come back to office at such an unearthly hour, no one will ever know. But there he was. He had even kept his stuff outside and was patienly waiting for Stupid Girl to finish her conversation.

Ofcourse, needless to add, Stupid Girl hurriedly ended the call, apologized profusely to the VP who seemed very very very amused even offering the services of his cabin and phone anytime Stupid Girl would wish to use either. Stupid Girl, however, spent the next hour feeling extremely red in the face!

Sheesh!

And no, I will not tell you who stupid Girl is.

And no there are no prizes for guessing that.

And no, don't guess. DON'T!

Hmmmmppfff!

Love
R

Like the millions.

Like the millions of women/ girls across the world to me also Prince William seems perfect never mind his thinning hair.

So he is the future King of England, has a tragic past where his parents separated when he was just an absolutely gorgeous looking youngster and he lost his mom later in an accident that still stirs something in my heart. And he is going to be king of England one day. And while he is not yet king, he spends his time flying that big hus helicopter of his saving lives of the people of his nation.

Oh well enough about William. This post is not about him. It is about them. Infact it is about a picture of them together that I saw today. I just absolutely adore this picture of William and Kate. It warms the coockles of my heart to see the pair look so happy.

Is not this lovely?

My latest painting. Do let me know what you think if you have a minute.





Love
R