Long distance, Skype and the things which irk me the most

I have to thank technology for its whole, truckload of contribution in my life. I would not have been able to survive a long-distance relationship if it wasn’t there. I know thousands of couples continue to kindle their relationships, no matter how far their spouses would be, through whatever combustible environment technology provides them.

Back in time, when it was decided that my spouse would be moving out of the nation in search of greener pastures, I was deeply disappointed for I knew my weekends would lose their meaning – and they did. I started to look sad and ugly on weekends, too (I work from home on the five weekdays and the weekends were the only time when I, all dolled up, got to step out of the four walls I constantly stared at the rest of the days). Anyway, time swooshed by and I couldn’t even get to know when it was five months already.

For all these days, we constantly were in touch – through phone (thanks to the free international minutes VoIP blesses you with) and Skype. Yes, this latter application has impeccably bridged the distance and talking is almost like catching up over coffee. A slight difference still exists – on our coffee dates, I looked the best of me and he, well he “tried” to look good J. Now, our dates are a mirror of how we would “actually” look at home.

It’s been quite some time since we have been putting this application to serious use and, now, I have started to get irked by it. Why? Well, at times, while talking, he would pan the phone camera across his flat and I would suddenly feel like flying to his place. And you smell romance here?! Read on.

I get deeply bothered by the mess around there and feel itched to CLEAN HIS ROOM (and fly back J)! Right from the kitchen to the hall and further to the bedroom, I don’t see a place a person could possible sit on or at. Ohkay, I might be getting way too serious about the normal behavior of ‘boys’ as you say, but what do you have to say about the concept of ‘cleaning’. Cleaning home, according to him, means packing his bag – just the bag!

Meanwhile; somewhere on the planet.

Precisely, an easy out to most of the problems out there!

As I calm down, I understand there are ways people live by and it’s not necessary yours would perfectly overlap with your partner’s and I totally believe contrasts like these give way to a rainbow of colors you would not have ever noticed had life been spick-and-span like a monochrome light.

To put off the heat of the argument, he has a strategy which seems to work, almost always. I am rather compelled to stop ranting when I am told I sound more like a girl. Fact check: I am a girl. Super-twist: I never want to sound like one. Reason: No, that’s not an insult. Further explanation: Stop pissing me off, will you? I am a perfect mix of the best of the girl and the boy traits (with the former dominating a bit. A BIT.) No matter what, messy room is not acceptable. No, I don't want to see it all over again. Wait! I would not be able to see you otherwise. I love Skype. Rant Over.

Backatcha!

  

Behaving My Age

It’s that time of the lifetime when you finally have to change skins to become a responsible human being while your inner soul still pretends to be a kindergarten brat; that time when speaking shit comes as easy as a storm in a desert and listening patiently seems a task next to impossible; the age when the conscience about one’s own stupidity does not show up and everything that you say sound pearls of wisdom to yourself; when doing household tasks seem the most crucial KRA of your maid and you helping her in the same implies deduction in her salary; when the fact that you earn and work in an MNC overpowers everything else left to do in the world, including cooking and when you look in the mirror and feel tad too proud of the way you look and wonder who on Earth would be able to match that nerve and fail to find one name, even close – YES, this age, this time, this phase – PRECISELY this is when THEY decide to get you married!

It’s like taming a mad ape – accepting that you are getting married and knowing that you get to be the female in this setup – the traditional one who behaves the way others program her to. The one advice, order, request or commandment that you hear from all the directions, while you happily behave the way you have been doing since ages, is “behave your age”. “Well, I’ve been all the same!” is all I can say in return. Suddenly, everything you do right from dressing to walking, from speaking to shutting up, from eating to picking your utensils up from the table, from getting up in the morning to pretty much, existing starts to appear faulty to those people who loved every bit of whatever nonsense you did before THIS time.

Now, I try to behave my age – in fact the one well ahead of it. It will, obviously, take me some time to shed the skin I have been comfortably living in since ages. But all that I have got to do is try to monitor how I behave, timing my smile, gauging the number of times I nod, looking at all random places while keeping mum in a room where the topic being discussed seems as stupid as the arguments being thrown to defend each other by the people involved, checking the usage of words like shit, crap, fuck, bitch, booh and trying to fit in a circle of “all grownups”.

Or, I have got an easier way out! I believe in order to get a valid visa to be able to step into the shoes of an “espoused”, all that you need to do is screw this gyaan up and team with your spouse up for a bigger mess. You never know, he might already be choking himself while acting a “grownup”. Behaving your “self” over your age is a nice idea for a cool, relaxed life. I bet behaving my age would never come easy to me, especially when I know I am good when I am “a lady” but I am much more a fun when I am “me”.

CB: Chuck Bullshit!

I am sure you all must have seen this entire, front-page advertisement in a famous national daily and like me, you all must have been surprised to see the hype being created around a book. Chetan Bhagat; I should have guessed who could possibly be behind the whole campaign. This guy has reached a position in the industry, both publishing and cinema, where his words are considered worthy by financers to bet on.

I was able to digest, well almost, the fact that an author who has got nothing great to offer to the Indian literature has become the torch-bearer, a representative of the same. I am, suddenly, reminded of Honey Singh who proudly blabs out in his latest song that he would soon bring a Grammy home. Well, dreaming big bears no taxes or hidden charges, but all of us know what would the standard of the India music industrys be if he’s finally able to get one. Please chew and spit out the clichéd theory that Indian youth “wants” to hear to that kind of music. NO. Indian youth is being tortured to death by forcibly making them listen to these songs no matter where they go, be it clubs, bars, weddings, family functions or on any music channel, for that matter. It seems as if we are gagged by someone else’s choices.

Precisely, the same stands true for Chetan Bhagat. The fact that India Today’s Chief Editor, Arun Purie, had to write an article and explain WHY on earth he chose CB as his cover model for the August edition implies his feeling of guilt of having done something nobody expects of him – giving a revered space to someone who just doesn’t deserve. (India Today Editor-in-Chief Aroon Purie on Chetan Bhagat's forthcoming work of fiction)  

One Night @ the Call Centre, The 3 Mistakes of My Life, Five Point Someone, 2 States – I never found substance in any of his work and, now, his latest stint as a scriptwriter in the movie, Kick, has cooked up nothing but rotten Briyani this Eid for all the Salman Khan fans. Touted as the representative of Indian youth, a leader, a motivational speaker, Chetan Bhagat is trying to grab all possible accolades which could reserve him some space in media columns and TV talk shows.

There’s some deliberately concealed information beneath the buzz we hear around his upcoming book, Half Girlfriend. The fact that all the media bytes, advertisements and online publicity is being handled by Flipkart on its own expense is something we never hear about. Flipkart, on its attempt to outgrow other retailers like Amazon, Google or Kobo, is trying his hands at these marketing stunts. Further, the initial print run of the book is speculated to be two millions – a whopping number in a world where a print run of 5,000 grants the status of ‘bestseller’ to a book and where piracy comes as easy as poop.

I am sure his latest book would already have been bid for as a movie script by numerous prominent directors but all the avid readers know that whatever Chetan Bhagat writes is not only difficult to relate to, but also is tasteless, bitter tablet of BS served to someone who is out to savor the best delicacies being offered in publishing. It is surely not something readers die waiting for, contrary to popular belief. Chetan Bhagat is clearly not for someone who’s seen classic literature, exactly like Honey Singh is NOT for someone who knows what music is all about. Yet these guys are scoring big(!) – probably, it is high time for us to check our facts and boycott what media forcibly tries to dunk shot down our gorges.

Brain Processing (begin: snail-pace): Stop. Wait. Read blurb. Analyze if it’s really useful. Check reviews. Read Preface. Double-check if it sounds sense. Lastly, the author – does he/she talk sense when eyeballs try to pass him through. Still, you’re motivated to read? Congratulations! You’ve found your next read. 

Brain Processing (auto-mode: jet speed): Reading commences.