The first weekend

So, we sink right in to each other, literally. No major issues apart from the fact that I’m rather overwhelmed by the kindness and affection, which I have longed for so long. I had taken an off on Friday to make this a three-day weekend.

So, we do South Mumbai Friday, visiting all the usual destinations and settling for a late lunch at Léopold's. I was amazed to know that Joe wasn’t aware of the terror attacks on the city three years back. I tried to give him some background as to why the Indian public might not really dig the idea of a white person photographing their city (thanks to David Headley and Slumdog Millionaire). Then, we met my best friend Craigie and had a fun night out at a bar, where as usual, Craigie made the waiters blush with his antics. We also learned how Chicken Lollipops are made.

On Saturday, we do the essential American grocery shopping at Hypercity in the morning, again with the ever resourceful Craigie, settle to stay in for the rest of the afternoon, and go out for a romantic candle-lit dinner in the evening, where Joe tastes authentic Indian cuisine for the first time. Not bad, I thought. I realize that he’s not the kind to like extremely spicy/hot food.

On Sunday, it was newspapers + coffee + breakfast in the morning, followed by Joe’s first experience of watching a cricket match – the India v WI ODI. It went rather well, I thought. Joe showed some interest in understanding cricket, but like a typical American, was clueless about it in the first place. The most memorable part of the day was smoked cheese over crackers along with beer.

By the way, Joe is a fantastic cook and he loves cooking for me. He’s not as much of a drinker as I am but joins in. He also doesn’t hate cricket and loves hanging out. Things look good so far.

A mixture of everything

It was a crazy day. Lack of proper sleep thanks to a band photo shoot sort of ruined it initially. But the workplace always brings the smile back to my face. So far, so good, I said.

Then I read the e-mail about the new dress code policy at work. There it was - 't-shirts and shirts have to be tucked in'. I reluctantly tucked my small t-shirt into my already undersized (thanks to the weight that I have put on) jeans. Portliness was showing.

I had to even go check in the mirror how fat I looked. Well 'not fat, healthy,' I said to myself, trying to calm myself. People commented on my portliness. And despite all that, I chose to slice the work day into two with an episode of bingeing on three separate biriyanis.

I had to sort of work faster so as to make it to a rehearsal in time. Yet I reached late by half an hour. Then came the surprise. At the jam pad, I met the bass player who I replaced. He was jamming with the band when I made my way in. Quickly he unplugged his gear and let me plug mine in.

I aksed him 'Hey, howz it going?' and he said 'It's not happening man. They aren't giving me the visa. I am here now.' Then it struck me. Was I eating into his bread? Would the band get him back on board? What will I do, then?

All through the jam, he was there in the jam room, probably carefully analysing what his replacement was doing. Insecurity, self-esteem issues, a feeling of inadequacy - everything was creeping in. I was uncomfortable throughout and fucked up almost every song.

And then it rained. No, it poured. Pre-monsoon showers? Who knows? Anyway, a slice of heaven on earth, but only for those not needing to travel. Once the jam was over, I felt like rushing home and being inside. Safe, comfortable, secure, albeit with a desire to improve and to overcome my insecurities.

The green eyed beauty

I'm sorry I didn't do this post earlier. I was too tired and sleepy to do this yesterday itself. For some reason or the other, I woke up very early around 4.30 am. I did my chores and worked on a song a little before having a rehearsal session with Noise Market.

Soon after that, I left for the much awaited GB brunch which costume party was themed Madonna meets Munnabhai. When I came to Mumbai 3 and half years back, a GB Brunch was the first GB event that I had gone to. It was a very liberating experience then as I was ushered into the world of open gay social life. I had gone with a good friend of mine who also happens to be a red-hot-shot surgeon.

This time around, the event was boring. There were hardly 50 men attending. The various events which took place were based on the theme. The music was drab too because of the shabby speaker system. The only fun game was a contest to put the maximum number of condoms on a brinjal held as a dick. Ironically, I and my partner (for the event) won the event with 7 and a half condoms!

The food was delicious. More so because of the mere fact that I have not been eating anything decent for the past 2 months or so. I had lots of chicken & fish and biriyani. That itself made the event worthwhile for the entry charge. But the real treat was this middle aged balding man with green eyes. I was so ogling at him that I wished I could hit on him. Thankfully, one of my other doctor friends was his friend and I was introduced to him. But I couldn't talk to him much. He had to leave and so did I.

I came back home kinda disappointed that the brunch wasn't as exciting as I had thought it could be. I was so tired and sleepy that I came and sent Vinokur a message stating the obvious and that I was going to sleep. I was hoping to get back up early to catch him before his sleeptime. But that didn't happen. I slept for a cool 13 hours and woke up at around 10 in the morning!

Random updates

• What are the odds of a 28 year old graduate getting malnourished in a metropolis? Not too high. But the scary fact is that I might very well be. It has been over a week since I had some ‘sabji’. I have been eating dosas, noodles, home-made rice soup and coffee. And in this period, I have had two eggs, a piece of chicken and half a carton of milk. No wonder, why I felt rather tired and giddy yesterday at the gig.
• 
  AV’s insomnia is worsening. The sedatives that were prescribed to him have seemingly lost their effect and he was prescribed a new medication. This time it’s an antidepressant, one which is not regularly prescribed for inducing sleep. Naturally, I’m worried to death. Nowadays, he spends almost 20 hours of day in bed. The other four is the time he spends with me. I’m trying to make him do something by asking my friends to ask him out. And guess what, he says ‘no’ to every such invites!
• 
  They say adversity is the most inspiring stimulus for an artist. It surely does seem to be for me. In the last week or so, I have been able to construct a few chord progressions and melodies. It came at the right time for me as I was really wondering if I had lost the art altogether. The only problem that is left is that I should try and write a few lines for these tunes. I really suck at poetry.
• 
  My good friend May committed something sinful last week. She had this crush on this rather successful, geeky guy from the states. She had stumbled on to him on his Facebook profile. Since then both of them had been chatting and exchanging messages occasionally. Without even thinking twice, she put across the question ‘Are you interested in me for a relationship’ clothed in a not-so-elaborate conversation across text chat. The guy, understandably so, was a little confused and conveyed that he didn’t think so. She’s sad. Oh I wish she had waited and played along the rules. What do you guys think? I say you should never propose over text-chat!

The 16 rupee dosa plate

In the drudgery of daily life, we often fail to enjoy the wonderful things that you stumble by. We forget to take note of the beauty that our life has to offer and act benumbed shirking away anything that do better with some recognition. We run to the same bus stop every morning, catch the same old-bus to the railway station, board on an amazingly overflowing compartment of a local train oblivious of the smell of the guy standing next to you and reach your work place. Just to start another working day – eating, chatting, blogging, e-mailing and of course working.

I am strangely above such limitations. I don’t have a daily life. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a routine which takes the fun out of life. I have a truck-load of time which could be used in creative processes. But I don’t have the prowess to manage time. Yet, startling similar to others in the above category, I (hardly) eat, chat, blog, e-mail all around the day when I can. And the price that I pay is simple – poverty.

But with the money that I have, I am still able to enjoy the finer aspects of life that some other might not. For example, going across the road and eating this amazingly tasty dosa plate at a road side shack for just Rs. 16. Maybe it’s the hunger of not having had anything to eat for dinner or maybe it’s the memories that come flooding from my childhood when my granny used to make dosas for me – when the first bite gets chewed, I feel really good! In less than 7 minutes, I finish up 5 dosas (thin, medium sized ones) return back home content and peaceful.


For all of you people, who think that life’s getting too boring, try these shacks when you get time. They are on the Link Road, Andheri (W); on the right side of the road when you go towards Lokhandwala just after Star Bazaar and just before the turn to Veera Desai road. It’s simply an astounding experience!