Passive Smoker in Making with designs on Saif Ali Khan

A day before Holi I was invited by an acquaintance to join him and his friends in some disc in Bandra. From where I stay I will reach Pune faster than Bandra. But he kept insisting that I come for once. So I had to tell him that am not acting like a social discard to earn more footage, its just that I can't handle cigarette smoke. To which I was told that in such places one should become an active smoker. I don't see a point in paying for something that I get for free.

The last time I subjected myself to passive smoking, I ended up with throat infection which took close to 2 months to go away. This guy on the next table at Mocambo was smoking as if cigarettes were going out of fashion. I could have changed my seat, but where could I go. I would still be on this earth. It's not that easy to avoid them smokers. The food was so delicious that only at the end of the meal I realised I was croaking like a frog and it felt like a nano bomb (my own creation) had exploded inside my throat.

Last Sunday I had to meet someone on beejness. So here we went, Rascal and I, to Barista. Our contact had just recuperated from fever so he couldn't handle the AC inside and we ended up sitting outside, among the liberated, whose lives purpose is to smoke it away in glory. Looks like my immune system has seen a spike lately. No throat infection this time, am only croaking a lil bit and it doesn't seem in a hurry to get better. Another few days and I will get used to the phata hua awaaz.

Rascal came up with a brilliant solution for this problem. I should join Ogie during his daily smoking sojourns. But that will give me very limited exposure, so I am thinking of inviting tenders from hot men, a la Saif Ali Khan in Race, who smoke. Wait! If I remember correct, he did not smoke in the movie. Perfect!

The tree will live on and on

There is a beautiful anjeer (fig) tree outside our building compound, which shades my bedroom from direct sunlight. It is a delight to wake up every morning and see this tree the first thing in the morning. Its speciality is it bears fruits throughout the year and is in full bloom in winter and leafless in spring. It provides non-stop food supply for the squirrels and the assorted birds around. About a year back a nutcase almost got this tree cut. He had encroached the land around the tree and was afraid some monsoon it may not withstand the strong wind and fall on his roof. They did cut a lot of branches on his side and when they started chopping on our side my mom saw what was happening and went down and stopped them from cutting the tree. Some feisty lady she is.

Since then the branches have grown a lot on our side and now they touch our window; to my delight! Only problem, when there is good amount of breeze, one particular branch keeps hitting on the tin shade we have on our window to keep the rain out. The thing is it is not possible to sleep when it does that due to the noise it makes. And second, during the monsoon with the wind always strong the branch will continuously hammer the shade and might break it. So we thought we will have a tiny part of the branch cut and asked folks living on the first floor to refer a tree cutter. We live on the second floor.

To our horror they suggested we cut all the branches down to the trunk, so that the problem is solved forever. My ma told them it’s not required; we just want to cut the tiniest part possible. But the psycho kept trying to convince her to cut the entire tree and leave the stump (probably as a reminder of the destruction we humans are capable of). As if that is not enough the jokers who make our neighbours want to have another tree chopped. Reason! Dried leaves from the tree fall on the terrace and make kachra. Someone’s got to tell them the only being that litters this planet is humans. I totally fail to understand the enthusiasm people have for chopping off trees. What will it take for humans to start seeing sense? Complete desertisation?

"Tujhe akele kaam karne mein bore nahi hota hai?" she asks me every time I talk to her. My answer always is no. When I am working alone I don't have to put up an act. I don't have to tolerate people I don't want to. Nobody tries to put me down. No smart asses to deal with. No interruptions. No bitching. No games. No more cacophony of mindless words.

Music...Silence...thoughts...peace

How could I not love my own company?

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I woke up from my dream shivering and my body in kind of a spasm. In the dream, I was on a snow covered mountain peak with my sister and another person I do not remember. My sister was frantically digging into the snow to hide our rings; I very vividly recollect one of them was the tiny emerald stone ring I wear on my little finger. We were hiding the rings from Voldemort. Yes! The Dark Lord himself. He was coming for us. That’s when I woke up shivering as if I was in the Himalayas.

Although I had woken up my body was still on the snow covered mountain and wouldn’t stop trembling. I had to tell myself loudly that Voldemort is dead and I am safe and warm in my house, in my bed. After sometime the trembling stopped and I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Something tells me I am missing magic and fighting the evil.