A wedding toast to chomu-giri

After days of grumbly, angry, frustrated posts, it's time to look on the bright side. My best friend is getting married.

My official best friend is Smita. But I have a bunch of other best friends that I can't do without. There's Madhurima and Roshni and Shutapa and Shreya and Amrita and MoonMoon and Nancy and Eugenia and Roy and Rocky and Kohi and Moo and a couple of more people that I suspect I've forgotten. But I've only one chaddi-buddy (even though we've been friends since only class 11) and that is Rahul, better known as Chomu Kunda. The label 'chomu-giri' is an ode to him, as is this post.

Pic of Poojo and Chomu:


Chomu Kunda is special. Very very special. He's my favourite boy ever. Even now that he's put on even more weight and looks like a man (He is 25), he's still my favourite boy. Boyfriends have come and gone, but Chomu Kunda has remained a constant. Using the most colourful cuss words when he realized my first guy was a jerk that was Rahul. Seeking consolation on hearing the tragic news of my breakup with the second, that again was Rahul. He's not the King of Good Looks, but he cleans up nice and is a total dude. How many guys do you know who get on to a bus from Lake Town to Mullickbazar, exchange numbers on bus tickets with a chick, and have a girlfriend in hand a phone call later? How many guys do you know who walk into a movie hall with a guy friend and emerge out of it three hours later with a girlfriend?

I know one of those. Rahul Chomu Kunda. And the boy is getting married. I'm so proud. The last time I was so proud of him was back in Class 11 and 12. He was the school football team's goalkeeper and we (Madz, Smita, Shutapa and I) his biggest fans. Smita and I had our respective boyfriends on the team, but Kunda was our No. 1. Even when he let go of that one easy goal between his legs... That's one embarrassing story we will never let go of.

He can't play dumb charades though. Not to save his life. But if you're ever in the mood to ride the Flying Saucer at Nicco Park, I'd recommend Chomu Kunda. He won't get pukey and if you put him on the outside, it's a nice cushiony person to fall against.

I love the guy. Did I mention it? And he loves me. He's the only non-boyfriend guy friend that I say 'I love you' to on a regular basis. Of course, he's said 'I love you' to millions and zillions of girls. Mitali, Diksha, Payel (the first), Priyanka, Esha, Pamela, me, Smita, Natasha, Payel (the second and the bride-to-be)... and these are just the ones I remember off hand. :) The guy has spirit. And fight.

I guess I've seen him through more relationships than vice versa. I've also seen him sitting on a chair on my terrace with a towel wrapped over his school shirt, while my Ma stood with scissors trying to salvage what remained of his hair after a particularly disastrous haircut. It looked better after. That was the day Shutapa's birthday party was held on my terrace and short skirts were the order of the day.

My first drink was with him. As was my first smoke. He's the one who'd wake up suddenly and realise that somebody or the other had changed. I remember the time he kept looking at me, shaking his head sadly, and muttering occasionally, 'Pooja, you have changed'. It was hilarious then, but perhaps he saw something that even I missed. I think he saw me growing up.

But I'm not sure if I noticed him grow up. He did though. Suddenly, stupid, idiotic Chomu was all adult and talking sense. Sure, he still had an eye for the ladies. Sure, given a chance, he'd still add water to the bottle of sauce to dilute the damn thing while cooking. Sure, he had a talent for finding the most Bong people in Maharashtra. Sure, he'll never lose weight. I hope he doesn't. Sure, he'd still steal the chicken off your plate if he smelt the slightest chance. But then that's Rahul. If he didn't do all those things, he wouldn't be very chomu after all, would he?

So this is my ode to Rahul Chomu Kunda. May his chomu-giri survive the tempest called marriage.

And finally, a picture of the happy couple: Payel Rani and Rahul Raja ;)


With love, Poojo

Understanding problem

I don't understand people. Most of them. Their priorities are so strange. In living for tomorrow, they forget about today. Social lives, hobbies, all fall by the wayside while fear that tomorrow might become a mess if we don't behave in such-and-such way reigns supreme. Whore-ism... that's what it is. You've just got to plan your escape from it quickly. Prison break.

I'm not as unhappy as I sound here. Just venting.

Job woes again

I need to need to leave my job. It's (a) depressing me as much as my earlier one did, and (b) making me feel trapped. The first can be dealt with. The second is the biggest no-no possible.

And strangely enough, last year, almost exactly this time, I was at pretty much the same crossroads (Refer here, here, here, and here for last year's job woes). Colleague just told me that Boss is planning to change our timings to 12 pm to 8-9pm. If that's the case, I'm quitting right away. Would make the decision a whole lot easier for me.

If you are reading between the lines or know me well enough, it's probably clear that I've already decided. The timing is still a question though. Let's see how soon I get pushed over the edge.

PS: I'd almost forgotten that I had started using new labels. :P Went straightaway to the old ones.

:D (For want of a better title)

At the end of the day, it's the human story that rules.

'At the end of the day' is also one of the most cliched phrases that one can use.

A year and a half from now, I'm embarking on a world tour. Promise.

And I'm planning to scrap my earlier set of labels for GGG. New labels starting today.

Monster.com time

I feel stuck in the wrong job.

But then again, I'm one of those people who will always feel stuck in the wrong job, 'cause the entire 'job' concept doesn't rest easy with me.

On the bright side, my writing skills have been seeing an upward curve. A little button mushroom soup wouldn't do any harm though.

I'm not looking for a new job. But I adore complaining about my current one. It's one of my favourite hobbies. :D

When words are hard to find...

Are words all that matter? And things left unsaid don't?

What can you say to a question like that. You know the answer, but interjecting between someone else's tears and saying it just right isn't easy.

Life is hard. Feelings, brittle. Friendships, a mass of interconnected wires that could shortcircuit when you least expect.

Grief arrives at the worst of times, just when someone else is preparing for a happily-ever-after. And sometimes that's enough to bring on hurtful thoughts that had remained hidden away for months, even years.

People sometimes reach out for a comforting voice that isn't coming, while the one to whom the hoped-for voice belongs goes to church to pray, but never mentions it. And the unsaid stands up like a mammoth Berlin Wall that for the time being, seems in danger of never crumbling.

But not everything is a tragedy.

Sometimes 40-somethings find long-lost best-friends-forever and giggle like jackasses across time zones and make plans to spend Christmas together. And that's when you know, life really isn't all bad.

Wedding bells (Not for me)

I have a job. I have to convince one close friend to go to the wedding of another close friend in Pune who will be paying our way (Air tickets in these times of skyrocketing air fare! Whoohoo!). The villain here is a Boss who doesn't know (which kinda reduces the charges on him) and work pressure that refuses to go away.

Sometimes I forget I'm 24. I still feel 23 somehow. And when I'm thinking 'how-old-am-I?', the reflex is '23'. Then comes 'Nyaah. That doesn't sound right.' And a quizzical look at the dude/dudette in the auto (It's happened twice), and a question, 'How old are we?'

The answer, sadly, is '24'.

But if it's all in the mind, and it's all the same to you, I still feel '23'.

I do I do.