Things That Bang

"I don't watch cricket but I did take notice of the cheerleader thingie."

Thingie? She was a petite creature with sharp features and a complete dud in the brains department. He couldn't imagine marrying her and wondered what Atish thought trying to sync them up.

She was more the 'hook up' type than the 'sync up' type. He smiled at the cheeky thought.

"So what did you think of the cheerleader thingie?" he mimicked her and stressed slightly on the word - thingie.

The emphasis was lost on her. She began her pseudo-feminist tirade against female exhibitionism and he imagined taking off her clothes.

What would it be first? The polka dotted blouse or the diamond loops in her ears? They seemed to be expensive rocks. The rock in his pants lost its budding rigidity at the monetary difference between them. He couldn't maintain a trophy wife; what was the use of imagining her naked?

She was dumb and rich. He was a geek and poor. What was Atish thinking?! He wondered again.

There was an expectant air around her. She had stopped speaking he realized and seemed to have asked him a question which he hadn't heard.

He felt a little sheepish.

"I didn't quite catch the question."

Anger flashed in her eyes. She probably thought he was a dumb ass. He was beginning to enjoy the fiasco of a blind date.

"I asked what kind of clothes do you like women to wear."

He ran a quick eye over her tight short clothes and again imagined taking them off. He liked the tight skirt that showed quite a bit of the creamy legs. He ignored the diamonds- they dampened his spirits.

"I don’t care what women wear. I like them in and out of clothes."

She looked furious. Her finely done eyebrows had somehow trekked all the way up to her forehead, her eyes glared and she seemed to hyper ventilate.

"You are so sexist."

"And you are so-" He didn't finish his sentence and relaxed against the leather cushion covering the booth. It was early evening and the music was still relatively kept low. Thankfully it was happy hours and he could pay for her Margaritas.

"I am so what?" You men are such MCPs and..." He stopped listening to her and found himself staring at her lips. They were full, lusciously painted bright red and he knew where he would put those lips to work on his body.

He shifted a bit on the booth. She was making him uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons.

"I am what I am. I like all types of women- be they- fat, thin, skanky, innocent, dumb, intelligent, hairy, airy, smooth, bumpy. I have no preferences, seriously."

Instead of calming her down his words inflamed her.

"Not only are you a sexist MCP but a jerk as well.” She leaned over and hissed at him.

Her blouse let him have more than a peek at her cleavage and he saw a lacy skin colored bra. He, too was in ‘flames’.

“Why am I a jerk? All I said is that I liked women. What’s wrong in that? Don’t you like men? Or is it women you are into?”

“If I was into women would I be here talking to you?” her volume rose as she tried to be heard over the trance music that had suddenly become louder. The sun had set; the party mood was in the air. He wanted to have a private party with her- sadly enough TGIF didn’t have Champagne rooms.

He pushed her barely tasted Margarita towards her.

“I don’t know what Atish thought setting us up like this.” She worded what he had initially thought.

He sipped his non alcoholic Iced Tea. He knew exactly what Atish had thought. She was so exasperatingly, annoyingly hot that he had to have her.

“What’s your phone number?” he asked abruptly.

“You have got to be kidding me.” She was beyond furious if that was possible and in his mind he was already doing her.

She slid out of her side of the booth and stalked off.

He watched her tight butt that was leaving the bar and speed dialed his best friend Atish.

He spoke into the cellphone

“Dude, I think I'm in love.”

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 09:15 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday while waiting in the Jetlite bus that was supposed to take us to the plane I watched people fidget and then fight with the driver after ten minutes of waiting in the dry heat. The temperature was 42 degrees Celsius outside and inside we all got roasted.

And then the fights started. Rude, ever so rude!! Kids and I were facing some Marwari women. We grinned at each other. Five men were fighting along with one woman. Their volume rose and our grins became wider still.

Delhi-ites in action and only Delhi-ites understood the frustration caused by heat. Its become part of the culture to be rude and demanding when things don't go the Delhi-ite way and sometimes they get so stupid wanting something that the rest of the crowd wants to lynch them!!

Truth be told people who are hated the most are - Delhi-ites and what I love about Delhi-ites is the - I don't give a damn attitude

The bus got us to the plane, the flight was uneventful, we landed in cool Bangalore only to find there were no trolleys to put our luggage on.

We all looked and the same people who had been rude and obnoxious stepped out and got extra trolleys in for others. Delhi-ites being considerate? I couldn't believe my eyes and yeah they were all puppy Punjus with their Mata locket, gold chains and cell phones clutched in bejeweled fingers.

But trolleys they did get and left me wondering if they had inadvertently given the rude inconsiderate Delh-ites a bad name;)

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 09:25 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Bleed. I bleed dark and deep. I bleed for you. Sheets are stained, limp are my limbs. You watch life seep away from my eyes. There is not much that I can do but love what you are. Ruby tears trail down your cheeks, my blood; our blood together in sorrow bleeds from within and affirms to the tragic play of life and death.
You gasp my hand as I die. I gasp my last breath and the world darkens, my love for you darkens. Blood curls and heats in my belly, my veins, and my heart surges with blood that isn’t mine. You course within; your memories bring me alive.
I scream awake, a newborn baptized by abomination, I shudder and quake, all muddled in the lives you lived, they race through my mind, the women you loved, the loves you lost, the pain, the pleasures, the eternal sadness.
I squirm; I twist in the pool of blood, so much blood – giver of life, taker of life, how many taken but only one given- my life gifted but with the tainted wish of an eternal love.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 11:28 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I know this is an old one but it still makes me laugh. You laugh and I'll go barf. This is like one of those ads between the movies or an episode. You know - I rather you watch this than me barfing in the loo

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 12:22 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 12:18 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Never again will I eat at Nathu's. I am dying of indigestion!! I had one plate of gool gappas, little bit of Papri Chaat and some Tikki and since nine 'o' clock I have been dying to have a puke fest. Its all that Desi Ghee in which they cook and my poor stomach cannot tolerate the crap. Thing is, having lived in Bangalore for so long and eating light food like idli , vadas and Chinese at Lu Hung I am not used to the Punjabi or Banya food which is cooked in desi ghee.

Right now my stomach and intestines hate me and I wanna die. Pudin Hara did not help, Tums didn't help nor did Alkaselzer. I think I am gonna puke. Jeez, all that oil is rolling around in my belly and hurting. Some fucking alien has taken residence in my stomach and is killing me. Christ!! I swear I am gonna either barf or die!!

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 11:11 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Yesterday a close relative of mine talked about visiting an Aghorie. For those who don't know - Aghories are those who worship in cremation grounds at night. For all my pish poshing and poo- pooing of the phenomena not only does the practice exist but is well accepted by the common folks.

Much to my surprise when I googled Aghories I found myself clicking on our friend Ryan Lobo's site. He has some fantastic mind blowing pictures of the Aghories and their practices and definitely worth checking out.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 11:14 AM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Nothing makes a woman feel more unappreciated than marriage. Ask any woman who has been married for over five years and she will tell you the same thing. Oh yeah, past the five years the value of a woman is no more than that of an Air Conditioner or a Refrigerator-vital for existence but easily forgotten.

There are few who are lucky enough to have husbands who show their appreciation and fewer still who don't go around saying that their marriage has done them in, that marriage chains a man and worse still they crack jokes about exchanging their wives for newer items.

Yeah, crass jokes but most men at one point or the other have cracked these jokes and others have laughed over them.

The truth is men stand to gain more from marriages than women.

Post marriage if their mommies are the non interfering types (they call themselves feminists but basically bring their sons up to be totally redundant around the house) they hand their precious sons over to the wives to take care of.

So begins the dis-empowering of a woman- the wives take on the role of a lover and a mommy- A mommy to her own husband. She cooks , she cleans, she pampers him, takes care of his house and then his babies. And did I forget to mention his family as well? Her personality changes, her freedom limited- no more girly nights, no more spending on self- its all about the hubby, the babies, the hearth and then if she gets the time then its pretty limited which btw is in the loo or at a salon.

Somewhere along the line she watches the romance die as well and to add to the injury the jokes start. And here on starts the syndrome of feeling like a martyr - I did so much ...no love, no appreciation..blah blah blah

Does that mean I am against the institution of marriage. Well, no; what I am against is expecting our husbands to make us happy. Think about it. If we expect the highs of our lives to depend upon one individual are we not setting ourselves up for disappointment?

The appreciation is important and so is the romance but a duck is a duck and a dog is a dog. We can tell our husbands to SHUD THE FUCK UP when they crack crappy jokes but to expect a man to change his basic non romantic nature would be taking it too far.

The way I see it here is what we women need to do-

Curb our maternal instincts when it comes to the 'love of our lives' coz even though we spend most of our time thinking about them they don't.

Disassociate the need to equate happiness with eternal romance. We were happy with our lives before men and we can surely find happiness without being solely dependent on them.

Always have girl friends. Oh yeah, nothing like talking to the girls coz few men talk to their wives more than ten minutes- be it at home or on the phone. They suffer from ADD when it comes to the wives but hey with their colleagues they can jabber on like the village gossiper!!

Don't look for approval or appreciation. The day a man confesses that he is half a man without his wife would be the day the rest of his manly kin would stone him to death. Am I wrong? I think not. Also if there are men reading this and saying hey I show her my looove I'd say you are one of a kind or you are deluding yourself.

Don't expect him to greet you first. Oh yeah that one hurts- its always the kids first then the pets and yeah consider yourself lucky if you are greeted before the help.

Don't look for compliments- that was a tough one for me but I realized the futility of it when I heard the 'manly jokes' about marriages, lack of satisfaction with one women made by most men. Which brings me to the other important point

Never ever let them make you feel your age- Most men continue to dream of babes in their twenties but the hitch is we women cannot look sweet twenty the rest of our lives, right? We age but hey they forget their own imperfections, point to the spouses and continue to look at young nubile yet to be destroyed females.

And never ever let a man tell you that you are fat!! - Thats the worst one of all. It isn't them who have babies, it isn't them whose bodies get torn up inside or land up with stretch marks producing the apple of their eyes but its the women and guess who lands up listening to crap about change in body structure etc? Its the women!!

As far as the men are from mars and women from Venus shit goes- don't believe that either. They know what we are talking about , they have always known it but just like you can't teach a dog new tricks one cannot expect a man to suddenly surprise his wife with a candlelit dinner and flowers after five to ten years of marriage for no reason at all.

So yeah- its a recipe for disaster to expect a man who has hunted you and chained you to his hearth to stop taking you for granted and if you are looking for appreciation after five years of being together my advice is - go in for a live in relationship, for the rest of us women who are married its a constant battle to deny all our Barbara Cartland dreams and accept our men as the unfeeling bumbling brutes that they always have been.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 08:27 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 02:12 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The countdown has officially begun. I will be leaving Delhi for Bangalore in a week's time and I am already feeling sad over leaving all that is familiar. Here I can understand the language, I know the places mostly and leaving my family and friends is not easy.

Today instead of trawling the malls of Delhi or eating in the known restaurants I decided to stay home. My mom dragged me to the local neighborhood market to do regular mundane shopping.

I found myself looking at faces that had grown old. People I remembered buying grocery from, books from, getting my ears pierced from had all weathered with time. They smiled with pleasure on meeting me. They asked about my kids, where I was staying and whether I missed Delhi.

I found myself at home in a market where I hated to walk down as a kid. This was my area, my city, my people and leaving them will not be easy.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 08:33 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

“How could you? What did you see in her? She is fat!”

He raised a slim eyebrow and looked at his pretty wife; pretty for the outside world. She was a mannequin- size zero, beautiful face. Her eyes flashed with anger and she looked ravishing but he had lost interest in her long back.

He sighed.

The alimony was going to be steep, her ego was hurt.

“I mean she is a walrus!! A spongy potato.”

“Potatoes aren’t spongy.” He replied coldly and light a cigarette. Sitting back he crossed one leg over the other and gently shook his leg; a sign of impatience and it made her more pissed.

She crossed her arms over her little breasts and narrowed her eyes.

“When did you start sleeping with her?”

He blew a translucent circle and gave her a cold smile

“I am planning to marry her.”

“What the fuck? Have you lost your mind? She is an ugly duckling!! She can’t be good in bed!!”

He shrugged and grinned. He remembered the wild nights, stuff done between deep conversations and cigarettes; the laughter, the understanding and most of all the warmth.

She saw the faraway look in his eyes and knew she had lost him but she couldn’t believe the competition was an overweight chick.

She sat down, facing him.

“I want the house and-“

“The lawyers will work it out.”

"You really have nothing left to say to me?"

A car horn blew and he stood up.

She saw a Swift pull into the driveway and her nemesis sitting behind the wheel.

He picked up his suitcases and replied “We never did have much to talk about. It’s all for the best”

He walked out of the house and she called her lawyer.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 02:57 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Is there any reason why I should like you? The night makes the world look different; it hides all that revolts in the morning sun. Sensibility is lost and temptation gained in the darkest hours; the darkest needs realized and the pleasures of momentary interactions are forgotten in the musty sheets of neon blinkered motels.
Vacant soul occupied by lust dies the next breathed sigh. There is no reason for you to like me. No reason for you to remember the bumps on my back, the scars, the warts.
Wrapped in our worlds we stare and wonder do we talk- post coitus? No reason for words to be exchanged. I stare vacantly at the fan lazily twirling on the ceiling. The door closes and you leave. I smile and stare at the money left on the dresser.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 02:54 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Via: Huffingtonpost

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 07:53 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Returning home is always bit of a strange experience. Somethings remain the same and some different. After a prolonged hiatus from Delhi thanks to my marriage I found myself lost not only in the city I was born in but also lost within the house I lived in all my life.

The Delhi roads that I knew like the back of my hand are maze like for me due to the numerous flyovers and underpasses. I find myself totally at sea and asking my family and friends touristy questions- Where are we? What road is this? Jeez, I am lost in my own backyard.

The new malls are breathtaking in size and very trendy. I have yet to visit the malls since no one has the time on weekdays to go out with me. Lack of time is again a typical Delhi-ite Syndrome. On weekends everyone parties whereas on weekdays even a phone call seems like a herculean effort for most.

But the neighborhood is the same old. Some new faces can be seen, new monstrous houses have come up but the Aunties have been warm in their welcome. Lengthy lectures on 'keeping the weight down or else the husband will look else where' have been forth coming from most overweight if not obese Aunties, the Samosas and Jalebies from Kane Ki Dukan, the Cholla Bhaturas from Nathus and Burgers and Pizza from Nirulas have been offered by the same people who admonish me on health and weight. Typical Punjabi love- expect the person to be trim and yet eat like a King-Tusi saer karo na ji (You should walk) is the patent remedy for all Punjabis.

My love for Delhi and its people is unabated. Someone being shot, raped, molested or robbed in broad daylight are news items that greet me early in the morning along with skimpily clad babes in the back pages. The pleasure of hating Times Of India and grumbling to my mother that she should subscribe to Hindustan Times instead is a tradition that has fallen on deaf ears since my college years and more so now that I am just a visitor .

At night I am again reminded to lock my bedroom door before sleeping for security reasons, in case of being out late in the night before leaving the pub or nightclub I have to call my mom like a college goer. Delhi-ites continue to feel unsafe on roads at nights. My friends still carry pocket knives and even Khukaries in their cars as precaution but not guns due to their anti gun inclinations. Some things haven't changed at all.

But the things that have changed are switches or the entire switchboards at home which have left me wondering time and again - that was the fan's switch now it switches on the dresser light! What's happening here? Its these little things that remind me that I am a stranger in my own home.

People have moved on with their lives, aged and some like the city have changed - some have evolved and some are same as always.

My trip back home has been a mixed bag of goodies- I feel at home and yet the feeling of being lost in my own city, not being part of people's lives makes me feel overwhelmed and a bit estranged.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 12:02 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Being a woman is not easy and the twist lies in the fact that growing up we tend not to realize how complex and mysterious our bodies are. From the first time we stare at our expanding chests to the terror of dying due to bleeding (menstruation) we continue to be surprised well into adulthood.

The words - Why didn't anyone tell me about this? happens to most of us and it has less to do with 'Sex Education' and more with empowering us with the knowledge of what can and does happen to our bodies whether we are sexually active or not.

Urinary Tract Infections are the bane of our lives. If we happen to wear tight jeans regularly, drink less water, sit on dirty toilet seats or have sex with little lubrication, the chances of getting itchy, suffering burning sensations and worse still losing control of the bladder are quite high.

Worse still is Fungal Infection and no its not green like yeast on a bread but more like cottage cheese that smells like fish. If you are horrified reading this imagine the state of the woman who suffers it. It just ain't pleasant being a woman.

The charms of pregnancy simply don't culminate into contractions and lo behold the little bundle of joy. The shoving in of the fingers to check the dilation is for many far more painful than giving birth itself. And guess what? Most women, at least, Indian women are happily unaware of this fact till they are painfully fingered.

OB-GYN visits aren't just for infections or to monitor and deliver babies but also for Pap Smears.

Pap Smears are where we are cranked open and the vaginal walls are scrapped for cells. And if everything isn't normal we may find ourselves watching our inner muscles all magnified 'live' with the doctor giving detailed explanation as to what is what, what it does, where it is and what may be wrong.

And just when we think we know it all there are more surprises in store. Like the one I got today in one of the 'internal examinations' when I was told that my bladder had come down. Why? I was made to push very hard while delivering. Thinking back I remembered- Oh yeah, the doctor made me push my nine pound baby girl out. The pushing had been a monstrous effort.

I looked at my Gynecologist and said the same old line - I didn't know , she smiled at me and said - There is still more that you don't know.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 09:33 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I miss my old surname once in a while. I grew up being a Dutta but been a Lamba for 7 years. I could have remained a Dutta if I was in a live in relationship. Would Aaman have agreed to it? Would I have? Sitting in Delhi with time at hand I can muse about these matters but I'm not willing to pay roaming charges just to ask Aaman over the cell whether he would have been open to us shacking it instead of giving a sacred name to our co-joining.

Its like that babe in the hotel's coffee shop I overheard asking the love of her life to give her a 'Kissie' or else she wouldn't put the phone down. She was roaring drunk, over thirty and behaving like a twit.

No daarling- give me a kissie on the phone, give me a smooochie or else I will not disconnect. (Giggle...Giggle)

Now make it

Tell me babes would you have preferred to milk me for free or preferred to pay for it for the rest of your life?

Hmmm...something tells me the second conversation would have got an amused reaction but the 'kissie' conversation probably gained the babe an exasperated lover.

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 08:43 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

When it comes down to talking about health woes no one does it better than Indians. I'm currently vacationing at my mom's. Obviously I am bumping into people I've known all my life; I've smiled at them, waved but recently was I made aware by one Auntie's family's problemos.

The fat, congenial,'could have been pretty if she lost some weight' lady walked across the road to meet my mom, my brood and me. After the usual greetings she began to relate in exquisite details her trials and tribulations with herpes and the her sons' afflictions.

Auntie ji: It started from my forehead, down to my eyes. Very painful I tell you but it could have been worse but I had medication.

Me thinking: Herpes?! (I shuddered)

Auntie ji: And then my two sons - grown men got chicken pox!! Probably from me, herpes - chicken pox same thing, na?

Me thinking: Er...no!! Get away from me you fat cow!!

Auntie ji: My older son looks very ugly but his wife is okay with it. The scabs were all over his face. Big, big ones.

Me thinking: Grooooaannnn.

Auntie ji: He was supposed to go to Dubia but because of the scabs they will turn him back from the airport.

Me thinking: You mean the dude is till infectious?! What the hell are you herpes ridden babe doing talking to us?

Auntieji: Beta, why don't you come over?

Me saying: Er...maybe later Auntieji when you get your house fumigated!!

Auntieji: Oh! you are funny as ever. Isn't she Veenaji?

My mom smiles painfully. I know what she is thinking- HERPES.....Get The Hell AWAY FROM MY Family!!

Posted by Deepti Lamba at 08:48 PM Stumble It! digg this del.icio.us Fark It | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)