Aside from the ten minutes of pranayama I get at the Saturday pilates lesson, where I am forced to sit still, make feeble attempts to shut my brain down and shush those constantly criss-crossing thoughts in my hyper-active mind, and just be — I am constantly amusing myself with brain farts that come from virtually nowhere. The most unexpected things can trigger off a thought and I have turned to routinely laughing at myself, or with myself in reaction to some of them.And here’s just some of the things that amused me these past few days.
– The extreme loyalty the chumps at the Tata Photon customer care centre have to the script they’ve been handed, and probably taught to digest and regurgitate, on demand. So unflinching is their obedience, that even asking three different questions with increasing tones of exasperation, was met with the.exact.same.answer.every.time. I might as well have had a conversation with a tree.
– The repeated realisation that twitter is such an entertaining place to visit from time to time. Retweet an anti-Congress tweet and you’re stamped a Congress-stooge, retweet an anti-Modi tweet and you’re an AAP-ass licker. So telling of the wonderfully varied choices we have before us.
– The similar patterns reflected on fb. Dutifully pro-Congress people are so quick to lash out and indulge in AAP-bashing, but one trip to Gujarat and a mere attempt to take on Modi, and they turn into the most ardent admirers of Kejriwal and his troupe.
– The bittersweet truth that I have turned into a Goa-snob. Instagram photos of people holidaying in goa, mostly featuring the filled to the gills beaches of Baga and Calangute, complete with hashtag-goaaaaa-hashtag-vacayyyy-hashtag-bestsunsetevaaa make me want to repeatedly roll my eyes. On one hand I think let’s do a post about all the other kinds of beaches there are, and what there is to do/see there; but the blatant snob that I have become, I quickly suppress the urge and think, no, let’s not because then the tourists will be everywhere.
– The few people who continue to devotedly hit like on every.single.post that I publish (including the ones I do without a thought, and that I know are not the best I have ever come up with). It’s become a full blown peeve in my mind and I wanted to do everything in my power to stop the madness. So I took the likes off from showing up on the blog (so even if you hit like, nobody will know), I’ve un-ticked the email option that informs me every time someone hits like, and most recently even taken off my instant notifications. The only thing I can’t control is the like button that shows up when someone receives a post by email, and them hitting it the moment the post lands in their inbox. I should um, appreciate the appreciation, I guess. But I’m amused.
– The fact that I still have it in me to react to random displays of asininity because I launched into a full on fb rant-session with a complete stranger, on A’s timeline, when she (random stranger, not A) left a rather meandering pointless comment, by way of trying to make a non-existent point. It was in response to Kalki’s monologue that is doing the rounds on fb. It seems there are still enough people on fb who just spend all day typing out junk because..well, because they can. The need to engage with her was totally optional. Unnecessary, even. And yet I reacted, engaged, frothed at the mouth some more and felt nothing but more rage.
– The resounding affirmation that comes from a single event like that, in reminding me why I have stayed off going public on fb for so long. I can’t control what people say and do, but I can control how much of it I expose myself to. The number of times we encounter such displays of stupidity is amazing, and there is only that much one can take, as a bystander watching it go by. Sooner than later, you jump in (like I did) and end up speaking up, indulging in futile armchair fb theorising that doesn’t result in much more than lots of acid build up and CTS. I’d rather I had read the monologue, savoured the inspiration and proceeded to act on all the impulses it spurred.
– The all new low that my dislike of beauty parlours has hit. I usually push a parlour visit until I just can’t anymore. I’m currently at that point where my eyebrows are growing eyebrows, and yet I’m not feeling inspired to go do something about it.
The husband* has been more out of the home than in for the last month or so. Solo weekends, dinners and movies alone, extended work hours (for me, because when you’re alone there’s nothing to distract you!) have become almost habit now. He took a night flight out to Bombay last week, and while I have toughened up to staying alone, an unexpected power cut that rendered the whole street pitch black freaked me out just a tad. I sent him that message, not expecting him to rush back to my rescue, but just because I had to tell someone I was scared, in the hope that I would receive some reassurance in response. His answer was typical.
And I can’t say it didn’t reassure me.
*Yes, that’s what he’s named on my phone. No, you can’t ask why.