Tuesday, February 22, 2005

An old message I came across while deleting messages from my mobile:

Message centre:
Hope ur ok.
Pls don’t wory abt
Snpy/me. We r
both ok. He hd
haf cup milk mixd
with van icecrm
wile ago. Lots lv

Snoopy died a week later. Is there a Murphy’s Law on death? Something like ‘You will never die when you are sick and expected to pop it’ followed by a corollary ‘ You will definitely die when you have recovered and are hale and hearty’.

It has been a while now and I should have been able to accept Snoopy’s death. I have, I think, at some level. But I still ache to cradle him in my arms. To smell his skin, the sweetest doggy smell ever. To kiss him on his forehead. To have him sleep with me on my bed, warming my feet. To tickle him when he is sleeping. To wipe off his slurpy wet licks from all over my face. To irritate him and blow wind into his ears…..

Where do you apply if you want to extend the mourning period for someone?

Friday, February 11, 2005

You have reached the blog of Obscured of/in Labyrinths. I am unable to write right now. So if you have any ideas please leave your name and message after the beep and I’ll get back to you. Thanks.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

I really need a vacation!

I have been working like a maniac for the past two months, through weekends and often till wee hours of the morning. Last Saturday, after two days of an intensive workshop, I was back at work to wrap up unfinished work. I was running a fever (despite which I had had to attend the workshop) and feeling extremely miserable. After indulging in a bout of self-pity I called up Papa. Who better than your father to make you feel better!

It has been a month since my father moved to Bombay and I have barely met him four or five times. Of course, living in two different ends of Bombay doesn’t help. But the main culprit for our infrequent meetings has been my work pressure. I have tried to juggle the two as well as I could. Though some of my juggling didn’t go off as well I would have liked. For instance, the evening when I asked Papa to meet me for dinner close to my office. Determined to spend at least a few hours with him, I took him to a pub that is regular haunted by my office gang. After two hours of trying to talk in the loud music and a couple of beers down I leant back on my seat and looked around. It was then that I noticed the curious stares, the raised eyebrows and knowing smiles. In a room full of groups of young ‘happening’ people my father and I stood out like a sore thumb. I could almost hear them discussing among themselves, ‘How do these men always manage to get girls half their age!’

Anyways, getting back to my sympathy-seeking SOS call to my father. Papa was a darling and said just the things I wanted to hear. ‘Sweetheart, finish your work as fast as you can. Don’t keep it for tomorrow. Just relax at home and sleep it off. You need the sleep. Don’t worry. I won’t even call you up tomorrow. You call me whenever you wake up, afternoon or evening.’ (The last bit was said because my father knows how I love to sleep late on a holiday.) Feeling much better after the half an hour conversation with Papa, I quickly finished my work and headed home.

Yay! I had one full day of complete bliss to look forward to! (Complete bliss = sleep)

Sunday dawned.

9:30 am: Tring Tring.
I wake-up and check the caller ID with half-closed eyes. It says, ‘Papa calling’. My head plops back on the pillow and covering my ears I go back to sleep.

10:15 am: I wake up. Papa had said that he wouldn’t call up. Perhaps it was something urgent.

10:16 am: I call Papa. My eyes are still closed.
Papa: How’re you feeling sweetheart?
Me (barely managing to murmur): ok.
Papa (in apologetic tones): I am sorry baby to wake you up. But it was an emergency.
Me (eyes open now): What happened?
Papa (still apologetic): No actually ‘Lost in Translation’ is playing close-by. There’s a show at 1:45 p.m. I have really been wanting to watch this movie. And it won’t be running next weekend.
Me (confused- didn’t he just say that it was an emergency?): Huh?
Papa: No pressure baby! It’s just that I have really been wanting to watch this movie. And it won’t be there next weekend. And don’t worry a thing. I will go buy tickets myself. You don’t even have to come now. Meet me directly at the theatre before the show and after the movie we’ll come back to the house. And we’ll have home-cooked food (he knows just how to tempt me). And then you can sleep. No strain at all. I’ll even drop you home in the car.
Me (hesitant- I was looking forward to sleeping): I don’t know Papa. I wasn’t feeling too well.
Papa (very understanding tone): Don’t worry. No pressure. You decide. And let me know.
Me (giving in): ok. I’ll call you back.
Papa: ok. But call me back soon. I need to buy the tickets.

What is a daughter who adores her father supposed to do!

11:10 am: I call Papa back.
Me: Ok. I’ll come. I’ll meet you at the theatre.
Papa: Good. Good.
Me: But after the lunch I’ll come back home. I need to be home in the evening.
Papa (something amiss in his tone): Oh!
Me: What happened?
Papa: No actually I was hoping that we could go to Big Bazaar (a wholesale supermarket) and pick up some stuff for me.
Me (beaten): ok.
Papa (as if the idea has just struck him): And you know what? There are two art exhibitions in that area. We must go check them out. They’re your favourite artists.
Me (Do I have any option?): ok.

Needless to say, my weekend was not as relaxing as I had hoped it would be. Enjoyable. But not relaxing.

I really need a vacation!