message in a bottle (02.2003 - 09.2008)

AKA Chronicles of a Married Girl – March Update

Last Friday, I managed to make fittingly cute faces to convince the husband, a slightly freaked-out husband, to take me out for dinner to celebrate our six-month anniversary. I know it is a little lame, but the evening turned out to be lovely.

Well, it did not start that way though. We had some transport problems to begin with. At a point, we did consider going back home and eating Ramen noodles for dinner. But I was dressed up, which is not usual, so we showed some more patience and finally managed to get to a fantastic lake-side restaurant called “Water Front.” By the Hussain Sagar lake, this is a lovely place that serves Chinese and Thai. I sat facing the lake, looking at the shiny city lights at a distance, feeling the cool breeze in my hair, and sipping my mojito. This was followed by some very fine Thai food, which also helped the husband relax and be happy that we were out there.

The only thing I've ever successfully made in the kitchen is a mess. And several small fires.

Not any more.

When I first heard this couple of years ago, I totally identified with Carrie Bradshaw. In early January, I could confidently say that I do not make fires anymore! Today, I am a maker of mean grub, yes. Ladies and gentlemen, today is not only the day when you congratulate the Coen brothers and the dainty Marion chick, but you also congratulate the sunshine girl for having upgraded to a level B cook. I have my basics pretty straight now.

So early February saw me back in my hometown, the extra chilly Delhi. I was there to get some paperwork done and one of the major tasks was to get the marriage registered. I am telling you, people, if you think that the wedding ceremony is a toughie, think again! The one day registration process made the entire series wedding preparations, which lasted nine months in my case, seem easy-peasy. For beginners, the Delhi government ensures that the registration offices are located at the farthest and the most unheard of villages near Delhi. Yes, a village. Not in Delhi. Second, they want us to bring a ton of papers; I get the birth, address, marriage proofs, I really do. But what is the point of getting my name, address, and birth date typed on a stamp paper and getting it signed by an unknown lawyer-type-person sitting on a bench outside an RTO? The whole process has at least four points where people can rub their hands and ask for some bribe. Yes, even the guy who checks the papers for accuracy. He actually told me that I should not pay attention to anything their official web site says because it is all fucked up and he does not give a damn about it. On a side note, this very gentleman man carries his desktop home with him. Yes, when he walks in to his office in the morning, a chap follows him with a CPU and a monitor. Bloody hell.

 Enough ranting.

You know what is great about being married to a geek? The endless sources of entertainment available to you right inside your house. I am spoilt for choice these days. So many movies to watch, so many books to read, so many graphic novels to read, so many games to play on so many (he won’t agree though) different consoles, that I waste at least one hour every day wondering what I should do next!

It is official. I can cook now. I can cook a decent Indian meal, serve innovative breakfasts and evening snacks, bake a cake, and make paranthas and spicey chutneys. Of course, there is a definite need of honing my skills further but it is safe to say that if you come over to my place unannounced and with an empty belly, you will not be disappointed.

Grocery shopping, as suku correctly pointed out, still remains an adventure. The modern day marts have definitely made our lives simpler by providing everything under one roof but at the same time, they successfully lure the inexperienced ones like me towards grossly expensive and unneeded commodities. It has been noted that whenever I am allowed to go shopping without any surveillance I end up spending approximately rupees 500 as opposed to a safe 200, which is the bill when I go with an experienced homemaker. Food World, I can see through your cunning now.

 Another constant vexation is the housecleaning lady. I spent the last three months building rapport with her. She would stand by the kitchen sink, talking at the speed of an express train; I would pay attention to each word, holding on to any word that would make any remote sense. A couple of Hindi words, some common word from English, or a random Telugu word that I could understand – anything at all to give me an idea about the subject that she so passionately discussed every morning. Slowly, we began to evolve a language of our own, some words from different languages that we both knew that the other understood, lots of signs and gestures. Deep inside, I was glowing with pride until the day she decided to use our evolved language to convey that she was off to her village. For good. She shook my hand and said ‘bye,’ leaving me behind to hunt for another person to work with on evolving a new language.

At times like these, I thank God for the experienced homemaker I have around. Without her, I would have been a lost soul wondering in the JJ colony, knocking doors and asking random women if they wanted a job.

Oh and my red bangles are still around. It is now close to four months that I have had 40 of those on each wrist, 24x7, and it almost seems like the Goddess of ethnic fashion is taking revenge on me for being a devotee of her competitor, the Goddess of contemporary fashion.

With that, dear Internet, I sign off for this month. See you around.