Maid in India

I can’t do without her. Nor can we live in harmony. She knows the place she holds in my life. And she uses it to her benefit. So when this noble lady tells me, “Pocha kal” I obey at once with a respectful nod.

Today she reports nearly three hours later than her scheduled time, but I say nothing because being present on the job is an even bigger quality than punctuality, isn’t it? She is reporting after 50 hours, which is fine because little breaks from work helps keep her mind fresh and active. Besides, it gives me and the mister a chance to do some house chores as a break from our very humdrum life of blogging.

indian-home-maid-servant-naukrani-funny-cartoon

Last December, right after my back injury, I knew I couldn’t avoid this anymore. To give up washing our utensils, to give up on sweeping and mopping our one-bedroom home office, to give up on my freedom to do whatever I want with my home was something very tough for me. We had shifted home just a couple of months back and hired the maid who claimed to be the most ‘in demand’ in our housing society. We had no choice but to believe her and depute her. Soon after the transfer of power, a familiar feeling began to overpower us.

Our endeavour to keep our home clean had failed again. This maid hardly turned up. And God forbid, if she ever did turn up, she also made sure to leave within ten minutes. So quick and efficient was she, that all the utensils self-washed themselves, all the dust vanished from the floors before they got magically moped with glassfuls of Lizol. It took me a week to decode her modus operandi.

She transferred dirt to nooks and crannies that are invisible to the human eye. Though, these were visible to the pests that lived with us and often laughed at our ignorance. How I got rid of the pests is an altogether different story that needs to be told as well. Living in rented homes teaches you a lot about human behaviour, I tell you!

I had questioned this lady holding in my palm a portion of evidence although it was ‘dirty’ – dust, hair, a few pulses, some shedded skin too I guess. She was deeply hurt that someone could question her integrity like this. She left at once and promised to never come again. She came the next day to collect her salary for the days she deceived us though.

So 2013 began with this new maid who came with recommendations from the neighbours. This time I got smarter to not rely on self- proclamations. She takes her time at the kitchen sink. Then she carefully sweeps away dust (hair and all) from all nooks and crannies too. Then she mops the floor with a corkful of Lizol and leaves a fragrant home for the two of us.

But, she hardly reports to work.

Sometimes, her daughter is sick or at times she takes a week-long sojourn to her native land. That way she prefers to keep away from the dim of city life and rejuvenate through all the greenery in the countryside.

She works at nearly seven homes everyday, thus earning our empathy. So when she does report to work, she finds herself with more than a day’s dirt to wash, sweep or mop. She made sure it wasn’t too hard on her. So the invariable response was ‘Pocha kal’ which meant ‘mopping tomorrow as today there is too much work load’. Also, ‘you guys don’t seem to mind not having a squeaky clean floor anyways’!

Every thing including her absenteeism was going fine up until I saw her leaving a neighbour’s home after finishing their chores, and leaving on the sly. And, she has been doing this for the whole of this year, right under our nose!

Out of the 350 days she took salary for, she must have reported for only 280 as every month sees her sickness, her daughter’s sickness, or her wish to take a breath of fresh air from her countryside.

She is a good worker who knows her value and her employers very well. This November, I gifted her a saree along with Diwali bonus, although me and the mister did all the pre-festive deep cleaning. She was apprehensive in taking it then. Unlike other maids who rejoice over getting gifts over Diwali, or blackmail into getting them, she seemed a tad bit guilty. Her uninformed absence for the next 11 days gave me the answer.

Well, this is my maid. My very own ‘Maid in India!’ I am hoping you have your very own maid stories to share too 🙂

What do women of substance feel about Holi?

Once upon a time, oldfox004 was on a secret mission but as usual she forgot her way and ended up meeting prominent women and also got a chance to interview them on their feelings for Holi. So here goes…

Rakhi Sawant – Oh Jessus! i loves the Holi, the rangs, the water, the innocent masti…this Holi tho i love to color my bhaiyya Mikka…he’s so sweet na *does the kuchi-kuchi action

Veena Mallik – Holi? What Holi? Filhaal tho all the mulla’s are labelling me ‘unholi’. But, i love Ash in a very ‘holi’ way, kasam se! *sends a flying kiss

Shweta Thiwari – Arre yaar! I gotta wear a burqa this holi 🙁 If Raja sees me all red and wet…??? I don’t like all this skinshow and all…what will my daughter say?  But, its all OK on TV, no? *kisses her daughter

Payal Rohatgi – I hate Monica, she is so fake yaar! Rahul is like my brother only. I don’t like to play Holi…all that gulaal will spoil my skin na…tho phir kya dikhaungi main? I bet Monica is playing secret holi with him…$^%^&*$ *smirks

Dolly Bhindra – HOLI…HOLI….HOLI…HOLI….$%#&*%^$….HOLI KI THO….%$^(*^&*#$…nobody plays Holi with me 🙁 *makes a horrendously scary face…i disappear in seconds

Yana Gupta – But, you know i love color….and especially colorful undies….shocking pink, neon yellow, electric blue…wow! What ? You asking me about Holi? Oh! I’m so forgetful na…I even forget to wear my colorful undy sometimes..*winks

Ekta Kapoor – Holi? Did you just say Holi? Can you see the big tikha on my forehead? I celebrate Holi with all my staff all year round…we use real blood, sacchi! *poker faced

Sonia Gandhi – Hamara Bharath mahaan desh hain…yahan Diwali, Christmas, Eid ithyadi sabhi thyohaar manaya jaatha hain…Hum sabko ‘Haath’ milakar rang lagana chahiye. ‘Haath’ ne sab ka ‘Man-moh’ liya hain. Bharath Mata ki Jai! Happy Holi! *waves her hand high in the air to no one in particular

Jyothi (Common girl) – Holi is nice holi-day for me. I’ll do a nice oil champi and put some multani mitthi on my face. Mum will make yummy puran poli’s. I’ll take to office tomorrow:) *shakes delightfully

Rani (Street girl) – Hamare liye tho roj Holi hain madam..kabhie yeh mard log idhar color lagathe tho kabhie udhar…bole tho ..koi ijjath hi nahi madam…upar se complain karo tho police log bhi…#$^$%^%$ saala! *deadpan

Disclaimer: All names have been changed in order to protect their ‘Real’ identities. Please don’t be alarmed if you find any resemblance to anybody whom you have happened to hear about even remotely. Happy Holi, guys!

Tata Nano ghar !

TataNanoGhar

The common man’s dreams of a home have been answered by the Tata’s. Way to go….You guys rock but seriously, 218 sq ft carpet area sounds a tad too disappointing, doesn’t it ?

P.S: I was just drawing my version of a ‘modern’ common man and then this idea clicked! I’m feeling good about this cartoon as I didn’t copy or refer anything 🙂 Hope you guys like it too! and please forgive the sad quality of the print and the ball point pen markings over pencil….

Wanted: A Knight in matte cotton shirt!

Well, I’m no more a teenager with stars in my eyes and I’m ages away from being referred to as an adult female homo sapien. Now imagine me singing that Britney number – I’m not a girl…not yet a woman, but please, without her curves for Christ’s sake, mine are better! I am single now by choice but in love with my teddy who reciprocates unconditionally. So, one may safely presume that I’m stuck somewhere in a time warp! I also suck at every day relationships right from the traffic policeman, the building dog and her newborn litter, the crows nesting outside my kitchen window right up till the society watchman and the Sai baba temple pujari besides. Nobody seems to acknowledge my presence. I am the living dead or the dead living! And, my mum thinks only a man can save me now by way of marriage to me, Poor man!

So, is marriage the ‘be all and end all’ to a girl’s identity? Well, maybe! Every goddamn form wants to know your father and/or husband’s name. But, I’m in no hurry, I like it when the dogs stay away from me and I don’t find crows any cuter; what to say about the other ‘assorted’ folks, I come across every day if relatives are not enough punishment already! This is what I gather from their eyes, nose, ears et al except their tongue – Oh, She is waiting for Mr. Right! She is expecting Pierce now, and I mean like ‘N-O-W’! She thinks she is the diva queen- all this with giggles and muffled jokes doubting my sexual preferences. So, I take this opportunity to all and sundry – I am straight, very much straight, and as straight as a line joining two imaginary points anywhere and as straight as a light ray. I am not waiting for Mr. Right; he is as common a sight as an UFO (unidentified flying object). Well, I am no diva queen or any other queen either; I am just a girl at heart with dreams of an enchanting home somewhere bubbling with my kids and my partner for life.

So, all I want is one common man – any man with loads of common sense and can see through the obvious. Most definitely loaded with fresh jokes on him at all times. He should preferably be dressed up in matte cotton shirts only, I don’t fancy ‘shining armour’ anymore; you see I’m not into fairy tales and ‘happily ever after….’ fantasies. Apart from the usual attributes of TDH (tall-dark-handsome), absolutely great sense of responsibility, great conversationalist, great listener, great lover, best friend, the better cook, the hygienically-inclined, the ability to withstand female nagging, the supreme strength to change diapers every hour and that too cheerfully, genuine love for my folks – especially my mum, etc. etc., I want only an extra bit thrown for good measure to be referred to as my Mr. Right and that would be – ‘He should simply love me for no rhyme or reason’. I abhor terms and conditions in love and will go to any length to break all of them intentionally. Now, is this asking for too much?

Maybe, yes! Apart from the cotton shirt, how can one man alone be gifted so? So, nowadays I have started thinking on these lines – my preferences and the ultimate choice or the world’s preferences and a so called compromise! And I have come to this – I’m pretty soon going to forget the very essence of marriage if all these attributes are not present in a single man. Isn’t it exciting to be single and mingle with all the separate aforementioned men? Or, I will just place a finger on any of the profiles placed in front of me and make my mum and the other ‘interested parties’ happy?

Lost !

…………………..this is what happened to me on a routine trip to my art materials supplier shop and one would wonder – it’s a routine trip, so how come Vin? Well, it so happened that the usual map I have in my mind after losing my way many times before, got deleted! Not accidentally though…remember the old culprits, those naughty germs in my brain. Yep, they were at it again. For those millions of my new readers, unaccustomed with my germs, please read an old post titled ‘Manzile apni jagah hain….raasthe apni jagah and GPS’, with which I also made my debut in Blogywood. Only the title is long but the post isn’t, I swear!

Let me make a few things clear first:

a. I am not directionally challenged. I challenge the directions.
b. Those germs are entirely a figment of my imagination. I only delete the brain map since I sincerely believe that if there’s a will, there’s a way. Agar chah hain, tho raah hain…..Hum honge kaamyab, ek din!

Things occurred somewhat like this….The shop is called ‘New Bombay Stationary Stores’ and it is as old as the Gateway of India gifted to King George a long long time ago. It is located in a lane called ‘Abdul Rehman Street’ in CST. There are millions of shops in the same street and another million roads in and around CST near Crawford market. Now, there aren’t any hoardings or billboards on this lane ‘Abdul Rehman Street’ so poor Abdul! Nor are there any trees, so poor me! What do I use as a base for my brain map then? Imagination …Life is my creation!

Unusual sounding shops would be the new billboards for me. When I returned from my second trip which was a long long one, needless to say that I got lost that day, I decided to take immediate steps for the map drawing. So, this is what was the route: the lane starts with the biggest BATA showroom – then Toy World – some shop selling arms and ammunition – a bylane called ‘Zanzibar Street’ – keep walking on the right till you see the red post box – that’s it, bang opposite the post box is a stupid shop selling labels and stickers (the shop isn’t stupid, the shopkeeper is and I’ll tell you why in a little while).

I have been somewhat successful in reaching my manzil with the help of this map in my subsequent trips, until yesterday which was my 7th or 8th trip maybe. It so happened that I had to hunt for new suppliers for a new idea I had. In the process of doing that, I got lost somewhere in that dingy lane, but this was nothing new. Getting lost was also a routine thing now.

I tried to get back to my route map, but just couldn’t find any of the strategic places I had made a note of. I was in the middle of millions of shops selling everything that man aspires to have, including maps. But I needed a personalized map – a map that understands me. Anyways, chah hain…raah bhi milegi….so, I inquired at a nearby shop if he knows the now popular AR street. He nodded sympathetically and pointed straight another 50 shops ahead. It was noon so no sympathy from the sun. Poor me walked straight ahead, keeping an eye for the red post box or any box which is red would do.

I finally got there and the stupid shopkeeper of that labels shop was grinning at me. He somehow knew of my days happenings. My face said it all! Our eyes met and we made the last conversation hopefully. He seemed to say ‘Kya madam..hamesha aathi ho yahi…hamesha punchthi ho…phir bhi’. I too gave an answering ‘look’- ‘main tho pehle baar aayi hun..woh meri judwa behen hain’ 🙂

By the way, I have decided not to go to that New Bombay stores anymore, I have found an easier route to a shop called ‘Himalaya Art stores’ bang opposite Sir J J School of Art!

Jahan chah…vahan raah. Jai Himalaya!

Essentially Mumbai death statistics!

The recent spate of events in Mumbai have sparked a rather disturbing but funny trend analysis in me. Given that it all started since 1993 blasts, I sure have collected pages and pages of data on the said analysis on a Comman Mumbaiite. So, let me introduce a Common Mumbaiite, one may imagine R. K. Laxman’s Common Man. Yeah, a picture is worth a thousand words but I’m no cartoonist. Please bear with the words till I hone my cartooning skills!


Common Mumbaiite – The common man/woman one sees walking in the streets, who never indulges in any kinda warfare; who believes in Ram, Christ and Allah, who visits Siddhivinayak temple at Dadar every Tuesday, St. Michaels church at Mahim every Wednesday and the Haji Ali Dargah on Friday; who breathes the heavily-polluted air all the while jammed in heavy traffic; who pays his taxes before time and also ‘haftha’ to the local hooligans, petty civic workers and/or police; who finds ‘bomb blasts’ utterly passe; who worships ‘Sachin Tendulkar’ as a Hero; who dreams of becoming the next ‘Dhirubhai Ambani’; who mentally and physically prepares to face the fierce monsoon lashes; who casually saves another life, putting his own in danger or losing it altogether while the authorities look on….;who dies of body but not of spirit.



Here are the statistics on the causes and the likelihood of death for a Common Mumbaiite:

What is the probability that a Common Mumbaiite dies from the pollution he lives in, given that he inhales as much CO as he does O2?
Ans. 0


…… dies from toiling his a** out in order to combat the ever increasing cost of living, vegetables and real estate prices?
Ans. 0.1


…… dies from heart disease given the high levels of stress, fast life and fast food?
Ans. 0.2


…..dies from brain disease given that he ‘has to’ use most of it in his survival strategy from the authorities and the so-called law and order system?
Ans. 0.3


…..dies from the ‘malaria’ caused by special Mumbai-bred mosquitoes given that these mosquitoes have mutated over the years just like him?
Ans. 0.4


…. dies from crossing the railway track since the ‘authorities’ forgot to build the ‘foot over-bridge’?
Ans. 0.5


….dies while crossing the road given that he has to break pedestrian rules as he is already late for work due to the f***ing traffic?
Ans. 0.6


….dies when a local corporator and/or police barks at or bites him given that he deals with them almost right from his food, water, clothing and shelter to a kindergarten admission for his kids?
Ans. 0.7


….dies when he is considered a threat to the ruling party and inadvertently comes in the line of fire given that the ‘Z’ category security of our beloved ministers, VIPs shoot almost anything that comes in visible range?
Ans. 0.8


…dies from a bullet given that he is always ducking them in trains, buses, temples and crowded places and is now a trained expert in the same?
Ans. 0.9


…..dies from a bomb blast given that a blast has occured just inches away from him decorating him with shrapnel and blood, his own and some others, most of his life?
Ans. 1


P.S.: This trend holds true only for Mumbaiites. In cases of death other than Mumbaiites, the trend would be reversed! And, yes, no more beauty tips from the kitchen, I’d rather give a beauty tip from my soul.


C for Courage: No beauty is complete if there is fear within. Courage is the only answer to the Devil. Stand fearless, the world salutes thy soul!

Unnamed, incurable, embarassing, chronic mental disorder

Vin was the most brightest star in this side of the hemisphere and an apostle of the innocents, until the bugs got her. The bugs of the ‘Untitled, incurable, embarassing, chronic mental disorder’. One may ask ‘What? Who? Where? How?’. All answers lie ahead…Read at your own risk!

The seeds were sown in kindergarten itself. Tiny, innocent toddlers like me were taught to associate new words with similar stuff to aid memory. Little vin enjoyed this game, little did she know that the seeds were germinating!! Every new word had a little relative. One fine day, vin was no more a toddler..she had blossomed! Now, can one blame her for what occured after that, she associated ‘interesting’ words, of course to aid her memory, alas now these memories wont fade soon…Associations should be technically based on sound, color, feel, smell but here they were usually baseless, illogical, totally irrelevant ones. Some are her own associations while some of them have been transmitted unawares. Nevertheless, she struggles with these growing collectibles and posting them ensures a light wink in her eye. So, here goes…

All teenagers dread this emotionally depressing monster, I did too. I’m talking about ‘pimples’, Only my germs associated it somehow with ‘nipples’, dont ask me why. The germs have multiplied and now only associate in one lane. Side effects include utter disgust at all ‘pimple reduction/control/removal’ creams. One horrible incident: a guy asked for solution for his pimples, I eagerly said ‘Just have a lot of cooling stuff, your nipples would disappear!’
I wished to disappear…

A dear friend is always ‘associating’ the word ‘prosecuted’ with ‘prostituted’. No logic, right? Wrong, the germs know better. These germs are ‘gems’ in illogical, embarassing link-ups. All boards with ‘Trespassers will be prosecuted’ becomes ‘Trespassers will be prostituted!’, whatever that means. Holy Christ, I will never trespass! This dear friend has associated another gem. A question like ‘What are the pros and cons of this method?’ becomes a story about prostitutes and conmen!! He sure loves our munni bai’s and munshiji’s from bollywood.

Another dear friend, this time a ‘she’, has compelled me to forgo one of my favorite musicians – Kenny G. Not her fault though, its her vernacular tongue.Our most popular, beloved three-lettered word ‘sex’ becomes ‘sax’. When I listened to Kenny G, I usually imagined him with his ‘Saxophone’ in his mouth, but after that it only looks like an instrument of ‘Sex’!
The germs are in their most active state.

Once I saw a very beautiful painting of two pigeons. Only later I realised to my horror, that the beautiful painting was actually a topless woman!! The germs are busy at work. All mentions of pigeons in prose, poetry, peace talks, images of them carrying twigs and paintings especially make me sore. The topless woman scares me! Am sure the germs are winking now.

All sutra ending words associate automatically with the ‘Kamasutra’, the germs know better. I wonder how i’ll ever wear the Mangal Sutra.

Kohinoor Continental is not just a ‘Gem’ of a hotel in my area, its rather an embarassing one. Even while taking an auto, I have to tell the poor chap ‘Kohinoor Continental Hotel jaana hain‘, lest he take me elsewhere. The germs have etched the kohinoor ads with permanent marker. That chap might be innocent, but my germs arent na!

And, did I say this is an extremely contagious disorder? The malfunctioning germs from the writers cranium immediately transmit themselves onto the readers cranium via brain waves during the process of reading. This survival strategy ensures healthy (read embarassment-causing), more effective and treatment-resistant progeny.

Congratulations, you’ve caught the bug too!!

P.S: Now that I’ve infected you, I better compensate with my beauty tip from the kitchen.

B for Besan: Besan is the hindi equivalent for chickpea flour. If the fallout of a sunny day at the beach is an unwanted tan, fret not! All you have to do is mix besan, a few drops of lemon juice and curds. Apply it to your face and other tanned parts of your body. Leave it on till it dries and rinse of with cool water. Repeat this procedure for 10 days.
Oh, BTW….Besan is dead effective against pimples!

An invitation from Mr. Black Cobra!

Yeah, you read that right. It all happened about a month ago. It was 5 am and I was as usual lost, lost not on the god-damn roads without billboards (am directionally disillusioned, remember??), but lost in slumberland!

He stood right in front of me, all black and shiny, now dont ask how a snake stands?; so he balanced himself upright on his coiled rear end and hissed an invite, quite an enchanting invite though I havent learnt the snake lingo, I knew for sure that the enchanting feeling it gave me was indeed my call from above !!! chalo bulava aya hain, mujhe matha ne bulaya hain.

I was glad that at last some-body/animal rather reptile has invited me to its den for some electrifying exchange of thoughts and/or theories, at least thats what I thought it meant. Come on..what else could a shiny, black cobra want from a beautiful girl like me? why else would a shiny, black cobra scare the night-lights out of me?

So, this woman of substance AKA Smart Alecca, does an innocent U-turn. She confides to her mom. Now, as all moms are, her mom was too! One may ask what? TERRIFIED, I say!!

She drags Smart Alecca all the way to the family astrologer, a Mr. Know-it-all, dont we all have one? Incidentally, he also happens to interpret dreams/nightmares whatever. That trip called upon urgently for another one…only this trip would be another 1000 kms plus from Mumbai – the trip to the Kukke Subramanya temple only 100 kms from Mangalore, where my roots are!

Here, Lord Subramanya is worshiped in the form of a Cobra, so that was indeed an invite; a call from above! Legend has it that sarpa dosha (curse of a snake) may be pardoned here by the Lord Himself provided the appropriate pooja is performed. We performed one of the poojas as prescribed by our family doctor errr family astrologer!!

Guess what I prayed for, rather humbly and naively:

Vinny ki tammana hain ke Hero use mil jaye
Chahe meri jaan jaye, chahe mera dil jaye

P.S: I’m obliged to add useful footnotes for having wasted your precious time thus far blabbering about snakes, God, Snake-God, beliefs, superstition and the likes. So, here goes my A to Z tips on Beauty from the Kitchen!! (given that men too are beauty conscious)..For all men who aren’t, just ponder on the SAKA fairness cream ad – EVOLVE!

A for Aloe vera: It is the perfect cooling remedy for a sun-burnt skin. All you have to do is pluck a fresh aloe vera leaf and extract its gel. Apply it to the sun-burnt area and rinse it off after it dries. Repeat the procedure for some days. (a tip from the garden rather?)

B for ?(check out next post!)

Manzile apni jagah hain….raasthe apni jagah and GPS !

And whoever had penned these beautiful lyrics to be sung by our evergreen Kishore for our evergreen Big B, surely was a victim of the ‘oh so familiar’ disorder, I too, am a victim of. And before one starts guessing as to what I’m referring to…no, its nothing to do even remotely with that ‘heart’ thing!

I have suffered in silence for the past fifteen years or so, that is since the time I had to travel on my own. Finally, I’m coming out in public, here on my first post. Read on…

I googled the term as ‘directional disorder’ wishing from the deepest pits of my heart that I don’t find even a single entry…. Alas!

There were lakhs of entries, links with concise descriptions of the medical jargon types! I mean… I just had a slight doubt and surely didn’t believe it at all, that such a term truly exists. So, that does it! I always feared this: I do suffer from some kinda syndrome…..only my parents were too busy in my childhood to catch it and take me to the correct specialist. To my utter shock, guess what, there were discussion forums where ‘real’ people with names and email IDs discussed about this disorder, took solace in the fellow sufferer’s plight, provided tips for unguided travel, offered healing words of comfort. Slowly, I came to my senses. I knew at once, yes, this is my world… here are others just like me. I belong here!


This is my Family, here’s where all my ‘so-called’ excuses will be understood as ‘real’ reasons for me losing my way all the time! Now I have the exact medical term too to add to my list of excuses !! I was glad I googled. I thanked Google.com for helping me find my ‘true’ family.

Take simple instructions like… take the first left, second right and there you go, your destination is right at the corner, lady! I would nod with gratitude and immediately draw a picture of a road (raastha) with a left turn and later two right turns and my destination (manzil) at the corner. The single, lonely woman traveler is in control… she is not going to lose her way this time…. Alas!



She not only lost her way, she lost it completely since she ie. me was trying to visit my best friend I have visited a million times before…. A few rescue calls later, I was picked up from the place where I was supposed to anchor myself as a reference point for the rescue teams , lest I lose my way again!


Then again, I wont be allowed to travel alone…. Me and be escorted, oh come on… every woman needs to travel alone at times and me, a woman of this world, a smart woman of substance, obviously needed to travel alone. Here, one may think of the adage ‘If you believe you can, then you will’. Only, me, the die-hard believer, the smart Alecca thought that if I believed too hard, I could easily fool the germs in my brain that erased the directional picture map I drew so diligently every time I was given instructions. I was about to prove my point.

Take even simpler instructions like…. take the coming left and keep walking with your eye towards the right…. Stop when you see a bunch of kids coming…. So we know there’s a school nearby.. ask one of the kids where’s the school. That’s all… the lane (raastha) opposite to the back of that school is where you need to go (manzil) ! don’t get confused… there’s also an old tree there. I nodded in chaos, the directional map I usually drew in my brain got null and void, no work here for the germs! As if all the trees are young except for this one.


I mean… talking about trees, I use these gentle creatures as my reference points now. OK, I turn left when I pass the big Gulmohar tree and keep walking till I pass these four, old trees with tiny, yellowish flowers (don’t know the name) and at the end I will pass a Peepul tree, but wait… I’m not supposed to cross it, I have to take the left that comes before it ! One may wonder, what does this smart Alecca do on her way back…. Simple, she does the same things in reverse !

At times, most trees in an area would be the same species or genre or family. But, me the innovative, die-hard, do-it-yourself-and-prove-to-the-world woman found new avenues for guidance. Hoardings, Billboards, Signboards were the new trees for me. Don’t cut down trees… I mean they are good for the health of my city and please don’t stop putting huge Billboards in my city….I mean they are good for the economy. When ‘Philips’ goes like ‘Lets make things better’, I know they mean this! Things can’t get any better than that. Look at me, I’m on my way without a single soul harassed enough to keep tracking my progress. Whoever needed GPS… yes definitely when I’m in the Antarctic region with no trees and Signboards, then GPS or Global Positioning System would guide me. hmmmm…

One may now contemplate the depths of the creative lyricist…. See what I said when I started …the raastha-manzil divide in the brains of the ‘directionally disillusioned’ !