location: mumbai city
actual location: guest house in bandra
dude this is like a spectacular place eh not like my nasty campus guest houses with the previous residents hair and all. all like nice and awesome and the guys giving me coffee and asking 'aap dono kyon aisa bana sakkar ka coffee peetay ho madam?'
next to me? is the book. its a work thing, a boring old thing. i have a silly little chapter in it. and i was thinking royalty will start coming in but they sent me an email instead saying 'thank you for your contribution' oh well. not like anyone is lining up to buy this book, and even amongst those who buy it, who can possibly read it? anyhow.
shopping kiya? yes! can you believe that. after the type of 48 hours i had i cannot believe i actually managed to lug and shop. mother is the necessity of invention i say. the story, as it were, is like this. i am off to a wedding tomorrow. the monster was duly dispatched to wedding venue with its doting grandma. my sister, my own flesh and blood one that is, put that knife in my back by sending her daughter a DRESS to wear to the reception. whats a dress? i asked innocently. don't joke amma, i was admonished. so of course my monster refused to wear the nice blue paavadai i sent. i mean i could have convinced her. her father could have managed it even better. but the doting grandma called me about 1000 times and said 'get her a dress else i am getting one' 'did you buy it already? cause i can go now if you want' 'so what colour is it? should i go anyway and get her a dress?' etc. MOM STOP IT. anyway harassed by women of two generations thus, i went. it was not so bad. bandra has young people in the shop, they are all cute, they want to sell me things, they don't mind my cribs, they are willing to go inside and look for things. so as it transpired i bought her a DRESS and some matching things (apparently called ACCESSORIES! WOAH!) which cost almost as much as the DRESS. (and meanwhile bought myself a much needed belt and of course a book).
I am going to wear a sari of course. I just hope I fit into it. I mean the blouse. And hope the mother-monster does not harass me about my footwear. Ugh. Nasty lady like slim delicate things they all wear. Ugh. 'Those look like car tyres' they are bound to say about mine. Hmph.
Onward we go. Onward.