Back to the grind. After spending a week, giving instructions to the labour ( trying to stop the seepage at home) in the day and partying every single night, one’s a bit exhausted. The workers are kind of used to my fickle nature, one day I’m in the factory, next day I’m shooting, third day I’m traveling and it goes on. My multi tasking ways, keep me entertained, otherwise, ask me to do one thing for the rest of my life ( even if it’s as lovely as photography) my mind will get fried.
Have you noticed, doing one thing at a time, is the privilege that only men (especially Indian men) have? ‘ I’m going to work!’ they say and head off, to do some one task that they would have been doing for over a decade. While a woman works, cooks, cleans, takes care of the kids and takes care of all his relationships,for him. Before you give me this bs that everyone has domestic help, tell the men to manage them. The day women start doing one thing at time, I’m convinced the world will stop.
The one man who doesn’t seem as spoilt to me as most, left today. He’ll spend a couple of weeks at home and hopefully will stop over for a few days before he heads back to the city of gold. The week flew past quickly. ‘ We’ll do whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy!’ he said when he arrived. So of course, there was lots of eating ( that’s why the boys call me Khappu) wherever there was music, drinking ( he doesn’t, so the servers would be taken aback, each time they would place the alcohol in front of him and he would shift it to my side) hysterical laughing and of course so much crying. Chuck therapy, find someone who can be by your side while you cry for a few hours straight. My two closest buddies, unfortunately are men , they start having palpitations, when they see tears. One just starts saying, baby please don’t on repeat. This one just went ‘ Slap me yaar, abuse me yaar, yell..just please don’t cry yaar!’ It was cathartic for me, traumatising for him, I think.
‘ Marry him! Just do it, he’s such a good boy. I don’t know how long, I’ll live!’ said my Father, the other day, after spending an hour chatting with the Wall. ‘ Dad, I have decided to only listen to you when you’re sober and in that state, you’ve told me, you’re convinced I can’t live with one man. Baap ho aap, baap ko sab pata hota he. Why will I ruin my life today, out of the fear of being alone, tomorrow? ‘ I replied. Dad goes, ‘ Phir tu kabhi mat kar!’. ‘ Agar aap bologe, mat kar phir to karni padegi na!’ I burst out laughing. This is what happens when father and daughter, sit and drink together. My poor mum would, get totally exasperated by the two of us. Thankfully, the boy had returned to the hotel and was not privy to our back and forth banter. But I’m thinking, BJP is giving me a good bait these days. The day marriage becomes illegal, (marrying a Muslim man is becoming harder day by day) I’m definitely signing that damn paper, with whom is inconsequential! Just kidding.