Black Out Period

Posted: March 13, 2016 in My Silly thoughts

It’s been more than two months since I wrote anything, except for few official mails and what’s app messages. I wrote nothing, literally nothing. And now I am under pressure like a constipated patient trying hard, with all the churan and Himalaya tablets to get rid of the stuck shit. Only difference is I am trying hard to bring out the dead writer in me. Like how we have black out period for buying shares (thanks to my HR for monthly mails, now I know what is black out period), it’s black out period for my poor writing skills.

“Get married, you will get content to write, loving but absent mind husband, caring but complaining in-laws.” Nisha always says. According to her blogging is house wives thing. (How that lazy-ass-pant knows, she have never written anything and never been married). 🙂

Just for content I can’t risk my status can I?. Until I get the “ONE” I can write about my neighbors husband whose cigarette smoke tells about his silent presence in the shadows of thick night, my colleagues notorious, loud burbs after heavy lunch, pillion riders affliction with the forced helmet which prevents the mouth to ear talk, the famous-loud-talkers of metro who are least bothered about the silent listeners (sorry mom, till now I was thinking you were the only one with loud voice), change swallowing auto drivers who never give me my 5 rupees, Bangalore’s arm pit damping heat and my uncontrollable, thick hair.

Recently I read an article , written by an house wife, a mother,(may be Nisha is right, I need to get a husband ) she tells  about her hair which used to be thick, frizzy, crazy and now thin, mild, tamed. First time I felt there is someone out there with same problem as mine. I don’t know what my mom was eating or my dad when they laid the foundation to the angel (obviously I am talking about me). I might be underweight; with fleshless beauty bones flaunted mercilessly spectators. But if you weigh my hair It might be around 2 kgs ok may be less than that, thick, brownish, frizzy and crazy as wild elephant. “Wow, you got lovely hair, like your mother” people used to say when I was in 10th, “Your hair is like Pomeranian tail” guys said when I was in 12th, “Wow, your hair” now when people open their mouth I give them “Don’t bullshit me you swamping cockroach” look .

The mental stress I go through combing it and taming it with serum is beyond imagination. Counting the fallen infantry on the floor with white tiles and wondering god must have missed his count for he said “your every single hair is counted”, the look hair dresser gives me when he sees my dry, lifeless, crazy hair makes me beg the earth to open and swallow me right there.

“Your crazy hair” Loly always says who can leave her hair and follows her every head bang rhythmically. Other day when I left my hair my niece pointed out “yean kalengo SNL(What is this SNL), it’s like dry grass, we can feed the cows”. I envy my niece even more for her straight silky and sexy hair, which she cant stop touching and playing around.

“I want to cut my hair like you dad” I had told my dad several times to see his reaction, just in case the maniac in me awakes and chops my hair at any moment. He smiled and nodded his head while his wife aka my mom jumped from the chair and said “NO, no, no not now, after marriage you can do whatever you want, chop your hair or shave it”. What’s with Indian mothers and their “do after your marriage thing” I never understand.

This is good, sitting and rambling about this and that, about something and nothing jumping from one track to other like a confused soul walking on the empty streets at midnight giving a scare to the dogs and the owls

To be continued


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