And This Is Life, My Dear

So let's take a break from the Pakistan chronicles for today, for two reasons. Firstly. I'm tired and I can't be bothered to reminisce right now, because it reminds me of exactly how boring the aftermath of my vacation has become. Secondly, this entry has been made possible due to the goodness of A, who has agreed to let me monopolise her computer for some time, as my internet connection has decided that we need a trial separation. So I will write what comes easily right now, and is therefore written faster. And thirdly, what am I doing? This is MY blog, I can write whatever I want, I'm not giving any reasons for it.

Anyway, this is something that I have wanted to write about so badly since Saturday last that I've been squirming with the discomfort of not having done so. Saturday was a day that I had been looking forward to because I was supposed to attend a lecture by a visiting God of History from Cambridge. It was something that was particularly important to me because it was after a really long time that I was getting back to history, and memories of the days when I was an undergraduate and actually happy with my academic life, before I got sidetracked by superficial kablooey. Aaargh...never mind.

So in the evening we made our way to the lecture venue, and were not surprised to see the intellectual who's who of the city gathered under that roof. We were ushered in to the coffee area first, so that whoever wanted to chat up the God was given a chance to do so. I was, of course, content to merely sip my tea and giggle like a silly adolescent at the sight of the people who I'd only read so far (yes, I know, your head is exploding with the need to shout, "LOSER! SUCKER!". Calm yourself, I'm not finished). A of course had to meet the God personally since he is soon to assume a position of great significance in her professional life. She came back slightly dizzy, and we made our way back to the lecture room.

The lecture happened, and I won't tell you what it was about. Those of you who are relieved to hear that, have some respect, we're talking about a God here. And those of you who are disappointed, well, go attend the darn things yourself. While applying myself wholeheartedly to the lecture, I also noticed the following: -

1. A lady sitting in front of me, clearly an 'Intellectual Socialite' (smells expensive, nods at the right moments). She was alright, actually, except for the ROSE IN HER HAIR!!!! I mean, come on, she wasn't Salma Sultana by a long shot. And the jewellery on her strategically displayed hand was....interesting. Ahem.

2. This bright looking young man, who might have been intriguing, inspite of the clearly forming bald patch, if he hadn't insisted on surreptitiously patting the said patch all evening in order to conceal it. Of course I had to notice, how could I not?

3. A young lady, whose identity I shall conceal, and her male companion, who were having a conversation in her notebook. Knowing her, I can safely say that it wasn't terribly reverent.

Okay, well, it was good, and then it was over. Then it was time to eat, yet again. We made our way to the iconic Khan Chacha in the market of the same name, stuffed our faces with tikka rolls and whatnot. Then it was on to Barista where my companions wisely stuck to chocolate cake and icecream. I, of course, had to get experimental and order a disaster known as chocolate croissant. Let me tell you what it isn't. It IS NOT warm buttered croissant stuffed with melted chocolate. You can figure out the rest yourself. Oh, wait, the hogging wasn't over yet. We then went on to McDonald's to finish the evening off with french fries. Whoa. We sure can eat.

We hailed an auto and got on, and then the fun really began. Apparently it was one of those days where life decides to show you that variety is indeed its preferred condiment. The auto driver regaled us with the finest Bhojpuri film songs for the entire duration of the ride home, some forty odd minutes. The words I remember most clearly are 'saiyya', 'gamcha', 'uthaike', 'khatiya', 'sab kuch dikhaike', 'chumma' etc. Now put them together and see what they add up to. Exactly. Of course we giggled. Apparently it irritated the guy, who got his own back by bumping against a speedbreaker so hard that yours truly had an achy knee to show for her rather obvious sense of humour. Yet the giggles didn't stop.

The evening ends there, and would've been articulated much earlier, if only my internet guys knew what the words 'Customer Service' actually stand for.

One more thing. Kitkat has decided that she has had enough of blogdom, atleast temporarily. This post is dedicated to the first blog I ever read, and arguably one of my best reads. It was written with wit, style, humour, and above all, what I love about that chocolate covered wafer-person the most....an unending supply of sheer compassion. Okay, KK, you may hang up on me once in a while, I feel stupid being angry about it, so I'm not, not anymore. And you, www.ankitakaul.blogspot.com. You will be missed.