Right. It’s four in the morning and I’ve just realized I do have a life. Sorta. When I’m not busy chasing down all the things I have to do to be in ppl’s good books, I do.
The weekend before last was weird. The weekend before that there was Beq-and-friend’s annual birthday bash. Quite an enjoyable party, mostly because I had my own parallel little shindig going on in the next room, I figure. I mean, there’s only so much you can take of people going out of their minds and strange music and cigarette smoke without wanting to be somewhere else, preferably a place where you can breathe. But this party was cool. I was happy throughout (didn’t fight with Beq, not once!) and I had my own space to retreat into. All thanks to Vicky, of course. Sweet of him to let me take over his room like that.
And that’s when I heard Barry on the phone, discussing his wedding, and decided I needed to attend it too. In that state of mind it didn’t seem important that I didn’t know Barry or his fiancée. Cut forward to last Saturday. Me and Jion at ICICI, him helping me transfer my a/c. Him on the phone with Barry discussing the wedding (to take place that night). Him telling Barry that I still needed an official invite. Bemused Barry wondering if he’d ever even heard of me, and telling me to please come.
So I went; stayed the night for the ‘bashor ghar’. Listened to bad puns and silly anecdotes and guys high on Saturday night fever (aided by shots of vodka I admit) and made some new friends. The next day, still a teeny bit hungover I was persuaded to turn up for the ‘bashi biye’ where my jaded taste buds refused to acknowledge good food. So I settled for lots of sweets instead. And then, somehow found myself at the reception tonight. I went with Jion’s mum – whom I’d not met till then, and found myself at a wedding with nobody to talk to for a good hour. Was pretty glad to see Vicky and Kingshuk arrive. Food was good as befits a decent wedding.
Have been on some amazing drives this weekend, courtesy Tomojoy Sengupta. Can’t say I know what he’s like when he drives other people but I must admit I find him far less scary than Prudhvi. And if I can take P I guess all others are small fry.
It’s been good, hanging out with people like Vicky, DRD and Jion. It was kinda like being seventeen again. It’s weird to think of how I go from group to group, folks at the Uni to folks in class to this alt group. In one I stay quiet and absorb. In another I’ve stopped trying to fit in. And in a third I relax a little, and know I will not make a fool of myself because I’m accepted the way I am. However clichéd that last may sound, it’s a comforting thing to think. It’s good to not be outshone for once by other women just because they are more outgoing or know more or have bigger boobs or whatever.
Some limericks I came up with. Just because.
There was an old woman they called Shoe
Who was fast running out of things to do
Tommy teased and Dr. aided
Vicky smiled and he abetted
Till the woman forgot whether she was herself or a shoe.
There was once a young man called Vicky
Whose sense of humour was perfectly icky
Yet he wrinkled his nose
And called my jokes gross
For a grosser-outer he can be quite picky.
There was a little boy called Jion
Who was permanently high (like freon)
He laughed all day
A kid at play
A happy little boy was Jion.
A dry taste in humour has Dr. D
His puns are chosen most carefully
He doesn’t suffer bores gladly
And can be quite madly
Rude to them, smiling through it all with unholy glee.
Vicky has a rude tongue in his head
And there’s little he leaves unsaid
If he’s mad
His language is bad
And you wish his thoughts had never left his head.