For the first time, after a very long time, I'm signing into this very sacred page. The last entry being on..lemme see...OMG!!13th May!I've grown a month and lost 2 kilos since!!
So here goes...I'm freelancing for Education Times! And I love what I write*!Man, it's been a long month..ranging from being one of those education agony aunts on missionadmission.in, I've just come to realise that more people have really stranger things on their mind than you could possibly have yourself. Like half of them keep asking me if their marks are good enough. I don't think so, but I'll be sacked if my moderators (yeah, they keep a check on my wisecracks-repression of freedom of expression) find out I'm being downright nasty to someone. Don't worry, Anuradha/Panna/Barin**...I love you guys!
I've also been writing a few articles. Three actually, one being an interview. No, I don't make up stuff; I actually interviewed someone. So there's the point of word-limit, content, context, quotes, being politically correct. It's this thing I can't stand about writing for someone: being told what to write. That's why I take comfort in this blog (sob sob). Mera pyaara blog.
Also, I am just so bursting to say this, I went to Bandstand for the first time yesterday. And before any one of you start..here's answering all your doubts:
1.Yes, the first time
2.Yes, I'm from Mithibai
3.No, not even in the FYJC.
4.No, not even with friends.
5.No, it wasn't a date.
6.Yes, believe me, the first time.
So this chap I went with, my closest pal, I'd met him after three months. He's down with malaria, is having just as sucky a lovelife as me (though the difference is, he has a love life, and you know me), and is the usual say-three-things-in-a-sentence-that-aren't-related bugger. Yet, he makes the time to get out of his bed to meet you (point is, I'd run away from home to meet him!) no matter what. But when you love a guy (now, that means, the way you love a guy because he's the closest friend, most comforting sample existent) the way I do him, all you care about is if he'll be okay the next minute. He was. Considering he tried blowing bubbles in the freshlime soda we ordered with his nose through the straw. No, the fever's not got to his head, he's just that way.
Also, the loss of my kitten. Or our kitten. Simba found his way into our lives when one fine evening Collin decides to play with the stray. And we all fell in love with him, the cat, that is. So then, I was mamma- at home, caring, with time to spare, give him stuff to eat, take him to the vet, Collin was dadda- the proverbial I'm-just-for-spoiling-you-when-I-get-back-home-from-work type, Shri's the loving aunt, Clarie the coochie-cooing Uncle, and Gigi the Godmother, who would sit alone for hours with Simba when his mum was out. And last Sunday, there's no kitten. We searched the building for hours. But no signs of Simba. He's probably run away, to be in the wishful side. The horrid part is Shri's dad thought he heard a cat-fight sometime around midnight. So there could be anything. My first baby ran away. That's the sad part about cats, they're ungrateful. I loved my baby! (mushy mushy)
I'm running around for admissions. If you have any notion of what being an HSC passed student applying to colleges for graduation means in Mumbai, you'll know what I mean. For those who don't, here's an idea:
8.30 am:Andheri to Bandra
10 am:Bandra to Vile Parle
10.45 am: Vile Parle to Bandra
12.15 pm:Bandra to CST
2.30 pm:CST to Churchgate
3 pm: Churchgate to Mahalakshmi
5.15 pm: Mahalakshmi to CST
6.30pm: CST to Andheri
Then you get stuck in the traffic at Pump House, and what could be a journey of 30minutes on foot takes you an hour and half by BEST. 339, at that. But seriously, I enjoyed it. May I also add, that this all was taken care of by me, with my chappals breaking twice (thanks, Linking Road), and one instance when before my last train journey from CST, the mochi at the corner himself (may you never go hungry) calls me to his stall. I was too zonked to think of anything but food.
So, that is what my day is made up of. Well, like any other writer, I've given you the description of just the most tiring day, but the others were moderately pleasant, with the Mumbai-special Rain Gods sparing me their wrath.
So that's the month that was. The reason I wasn't all that kaam-dhanda-less as usual. Please, pray that I get through at Xaviers. My marks sucked, I didn't contemplate harm. But if I don't get through at Xaviers, the next entry might be my obituary.
*I always loved what I write, I just started getting paid for it!
**The guys who're in charge of us unruly, obnoxious lot.