Last week on the Metro I saw a stranger. She reminded me of a friend. A friend I've long since lost touch with. But there was something about the back of her head and the way she moved....a vague recollection of an old friend. Vartika. I miss you sometimes. I wish we were in touch.
My life has been divided into 3 segments now that I am full time employed.
1. The work life: Fucking starting from 8 in the morning to 11 in the night and sometimes in my mundane and unbelievably "keep-it-real-just-another-boring-day-at-work" dream sequences. The work life is tiring and it has changed my life philosophy from "smile a little" to "just get it done." blech. The work itself, I like. The hours, O God.
2. The Home Life: This I can do in one word only: Sundays. Sundays are the only little bit of time when I am not rushing to or from work. And my life has become an endless pursuit of The Sunday. I make plans as early as two weeks, three weeks in advance. Because I know I'm only free on sundays. So it is quite easy to keep my social calender very full.
3. The Metro Life: The In-Transit period is the MOST fun I have on an average day. And the Metro, to be truthful, has been a source of much mirth. Once this guy accidentally held my hand when I got off the yellow line...so I gave him a very dirty dirty burn-in-hell look. and he was so SHOCKED. He'd genuinely been distracted (by the same passenger-security fight I'd been distracted by) and thought it was his girlfriend's hand. And the kicker is that the moment of confusion was broken by his girlfriend's laughter.
Also, this other time, a fellow passenger kid started screaming in the most "paranormal activity" way when a firang smiled at him. THAT was hi-larious.
Yesterday, I was walking towards the ladies coach and this guy asked me if he could have some water since I was carrying the bottle in hand. So I handed it to him and asked him to hurry up because I wanted to board the train. He said "no, its okay." and fucking walked away with my bottle of water.
In other news. My life right now is the worst kind of ride. I am tired Allll the frikkin time and there's no going home and just sleeping. To top it all off, I've personally ensured that I am in the middle of oh-so-many dramas that I doubt I will ever have thinking space inside my head again. A little bit of me is dying...that distant voice echo? That's me. Help.
And not that it needs saying, or that ANY woman on Earth needs a reminder.
Men are absolute fucking douchebags. I am currently...tussling?...with three completely independent and absolutely snow-flake unique kinds of Douches. Three.
Apart from the Delhi skill of never looking a stranger in the eye, always listening to your music so you can drown out the lech calls, and generally passing through the entire outside world as if you're the only one in it. Never make eye contact with strangers in Delhi. They think its an invite. Theyre very uninitiated in the ways of a woman.