Dhobin.

I had been stalling washing my jeans for over a week! And now the other jeans needed cleaning too. Soon I'd have nothing to wear outside!

But still immensely lazy.. I procastinated the tiresome job...

Today morning, after a early lights-out because of a headache, I planned to wake up at 5/6am to get some studies done while the roomie slept. I did wake up at 4:47 am, heard and turned off both alarms set at 5:00 and 6:15 and eventually woke up at 7:25. I was sad that I could not attain the goal that I had planned but slightly pleased because it was better than the 8:20 I'd been seeing everyday the last week!

So, little down and planning for the day ahead, I got out of bed and brushed my teeth, returned to find my roomie talking-to her boyfriend I suppose-on the phone, made my bed,opened the curtains, grabbed my cup and went downstairs to get some tea and hopefully a subsitute breakfast for the upma that was assigned for the morning meal. Fortunately they had bread! Happily I gobbled it up while I made trivial conversations with 2 friends abt the exams, other friends and the horoscope reading that few guys had gone crazy about recently!

Content that I got a meal, I returned to my room to find my roomie still on the phone. Without disturbing her I left to refil my bottle. Prepared to sit down and study...

Was reading Rigor Mortis when my head got jammed. Maybe because of the same mechanism as RM - Exhaustion of ATP! I forced myself to read it...but I couldn't anymore. Tried messaging a few friends to refresh mind but that just worsened it...Fed up...I rocked on my chair... Debating on what to do... When I remembered how few of my friends (the same ones with whom I had breakfast with) had told me how their fathers had told them that their breaks in hostel included only washing clothes!

Pumped up to wash those jeans I needed, I got out and searched for a water heater... Got all my dirty clothes into a big pile... Heated 2 buckets of water... Poured detergent to clean and dettol to kill... Put the clothes in.. Churned them in and got ready for both the clothes bath and mine!

The most difficult part about doing the job of a washerwoman, other than making sure your workplace is clean( Argh... Bathroom was so dirty... I poured dettol over the floor to clean it...n still people went in to wash their feet post pee/poop) and the actual washing, is finding a place to dry all these wonderfully cleaned and smelling clothes! I hate it when people move my clothes, but I do it so mercilessly it surprizes me. I cleared away 2 whole rows of dry clothes -awkwardly touching the unmentionables- and hung my 3 pairs of jeans, 2 bed sheets, 1 towel and the towel in use!

Satisfied and relaxed... I now sit under my fan... Feeling cold and hungry... Drying my hair and waiting for everyone to get  ready for lunch.

Beilal, The Barber.

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Agile and artful he was,
With scissors in one hand and comb in the other
All his customers he'd skillfully gather!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Handsome and hard working he was,
The cutest clothes he wore
And all the women's hearts he tore!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Sweet and shy he was,
In a foreign tongue he always mumbled,
Listening to which we always tumbled!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Cunning and coniving he was,
Secretly he'd lure you, oh yes he would
Convicing you to change your do, and you'd completely believe you should!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Enticing and enchanting he was,
But if once to his hex you'd give in,
The magic he'd create would seem like a propitious sin!

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Tired of all the women he was,
He gave fake smiles and forceful laughter
In response to their everlasting jibber-jabber.

There was once a barber named Beilal,
Agile and artful he was,
With scissors in one hand and comb in the other
All his customers he'd skillfully gather! 

The Story Of Fixing Of The Fan And The Aloo Bora.

One evening, after I had rearranged my room again, realizing that I needed my table fan to run again because my table no longer was under the ceiling fan,  I informed the 'boys' that I would like them to take my fan to the fan guy as they were going that far anyway to buy a cake for their midnight birthday party celebration. ( feels like St. Clair's by Enid Blyton, right? :) )


I wasn't planning to go...but then it rained and somewhere I didnt trust they'd handle it properly. I had to see it for myself. So I pulled on a pedal-pusher (the muddy roads are pretty irritating to walk in, post-down pour) and an over-sided t and surprised them when I went down to join them.

So we walked along the tiresome route that sweaty evening, postponed the cake buyin by a few minutes n walked towards the busy fan fixing man.He looked slightly surprized - I suppose to see a girl come to his manly hardware store.

We gave him the fan. The fan fixing man wiped his hands and undid the systematically tied rubber band around the wire and plugged the fan in. 

Turned the knob...

And vroom! the fan was blowing powerfully! Just as it did on the first day I brought to the hostel!

Scared, worried and guilty... I showered the fan fixer with his current patient's chief complaints! - 'It wouldn't start this morning!' '...burning plastic smell..' '..it slowed down like it was possessed' 

He listened to me like a patient doctor but there really wasn't much he could or was supposed to do!  The fan was working perfectly fine!

The boys and I started blaming different possible things - '...the hostel switch...' '...the 3 way plug point...' and thanked the fan fixing man for the free check up.

Then we (ok mostly me...I came out because I was very hungry! I admit it! :") ) walked a little ahead to a stall that made pyagi (onion fry), vada and many other items. This stall specially made Aloo Bora! (Vada stuffed with mashed potatoes)

The boys had given me one the previous day to eat, it was good but I wasn't hungry then. 

That evening I watched him make it. Fresh for the three of us- He took out some batter, laid it flat on his work area, placed a lump of orange looking mashed potato on top of the batter, rolled it up and put it inside his big black vessel to fry in the hot oil! 

He put 10 of them in, in the same methodical manner, fiddling wid the gas valve every once in a while...


Once they were done, he strained the lot, put it in a piece of old newspaper, folded it and put it inside a plastic bag for us!


We didn't even wait till we found a place to sit..we just attacked the plastic and started gobbling!
There is absolutely nothing like a street side oily food item!


Moral Of The Story: Nothing really... Just a narration of one of hungry adventures in this wild wild world with my feigning fan!


#Future Notes: 
a) My fan still doesn't work at one level. 
b) The boys were unsatisfied with the cake in the near by cake shop and went to search for another. They ended up buying a tastier, better but smaller one - as I understand from my sources ;D

The Homecoming.

I was startled from my deep slumber,
By the strong sound of the gushing winds,
Pushing against my closed window,
As though they wished to pass in.

Surprized and tense, I jumped out of bed,
Threw open the glass
And threw open the door,
For they wished to move to the other side...

They moved so beautifully,
Like a serpent led by a Charmer...
Smoothly through the skies...
Forcefully through my room...

Pleased to set this powerful force free,
I sat down again and closed my eyes
I drowned in the breeze and swayed in its currents...

But I was startled again!
By the sound of the first raindrops of the day...
Pitter-pattering on the hot playground,
Releasing a sweet smelling steam
That one who has suffered the heat could only enjoy...

They got harsher and it got heavier...
The trees were dancing again!
The dust was swirling once more!

I reluctantly shut the windows as reality beckoned me...
But sat by the window watching
As the world rejoiced the homecoming of the rains...

.

The winds and the water have gone now,
The Sun has broken out from the clouds,
Gingerly He watches from up above,
Not knowing that He drew us a bewitching potrait...
Here... down below-
The light is glittering off the wet pavement,
The raindrops, left behind as a token of their love, glistening off the marvelous then-dancing green trees,
And smiling people strolling down the road...
Glad that the shower had quenched their summer's thirst...

I continued to sit by the window,
Open now,
Bathed in the warm sunlight,
In anticipation.
I wait...
I wait for the next cloudburst to begin...

The Conversationalist.

As she stood near the water cooler, filling her one litre bottle with ice-cold dew-forming-water, a usually jovial classmate of hers slumpily walked towards her. On asking her why she looked so tired, the protagonist was blown away by the un-inhibited manner and ease at which her jovial friend gave her every bit of information as to why she looked so down!

'How could one talk so much about personal matters to a person who speaks to her as rarely as I do?' thought our heroine, 'Why is it that I choose my words so precisely and perfectly whenever I speak to a collegue or rarely visited relative?'

There was once a time when all she did was talk... (The central character) Day in and day out... She'd spend the day at school talking to a million different friends about the same things...repeating them over and over again. Then she'd return home and talk on the phone all evening! The phone bills were so atrocious at one point of time that her parents forbade her to speak anymore!

What she spoke of, she could not recall anymore but she knew the magnitude was stupendous! But she did recall how, as she grew older and as her friends slowly left, that no one really cared much about what she spoke, no one listened to her and how she realized her subjects were trivial and actually pathetic!

So, she sub-conciously and unintentionally stopped all the blabber. She seemed like a listener, people enjoyed talking to her...but, rarely, even when someone asked her views..she chose to say little, to be sweet, to advise righteously, to stay diplomatic... More to keep her short-tempered, sassy, impolite thoughts and words to herself and avoid disrespecting or hurting anyone's sentiments.

As she lazily walked back to her room that hot breezy summer afternoon, she summoned memories of how she could, in an uninhibited manner and with ease, speak to people about their lives... She could speak to her father about his work, grandfathers about their daily routines, old friends about their present academic interests, with boys about other girls, with broken hearted girls about their heart-crushing boyfriends, ( with 'i shall wait for her forever' boys too!) with her little sister about the upcoming songs, with her rarely visited relative about their new born or their trip to Paris or Melbourne!

It delighted her! It delighted her that she could speak to people and get a smile on their faces. It delighted her that she could hide her troubles and take away someone else's!

She reached her room gulping down more than half of her chilled water directly from the bottle cooling her tummy while her thoughts warmed her heart... She then took a nap, shutting off all conversations, knowing and being very pleased that she was pretty good conversationalist!