The 30s Tamasha

Even before I delve into this post, I will confirm my stand that age is still a number for me. However the whole "getting older" cycle is showing me (and some of my friends) some signs of how life is slowly taking a different path. Being 30 and single is at the moment, a damn good phase of my life. I have the choice to design my life the way I want. However, the last few months I have seen some very obvious changes in my lifestyle and strangely many of my friends echo the same. Wondering if this is my start to ranting as a crabby old lady, hmmm but anyway; I know many others who echo these sentiments.

My sleep is extremely important for me - Not taking away the fact that it always was, however now I deliberately run away from late nights. I have no qualms making excuses to skip a dinner or late night movie esp on a weekday. I will still head out on a Friday or Saturday night but bring up a plan on a weekday and I go *facepalm* "no way Jose".

I have my choice of music that I want to listen to and I am easily awkward to the point of being hopelessly bored in a place that plays new age pop. It is embarrassing enough to try and Shazam the song and then read the details and figure "Damnnnn, who is Nikyee Heaton ???". Similarly I love the feeling of showing off my Michael Jackson knowledge and (don't judge me) boy band knowledge to those 90s born kids who never had a boy band poster in the bedroom and drooled over it (Fine, guilty again!)

I choose comfort above all. Be it my wardrobe or shoes, comfort triumphs all. Stylish comes a close second but now I see myself eyeing those 5 inch heels and going "I waaaaannnnnttttt but damn how my legs will kill me".

I have started to ensure I have a complete blood and the works check up done every 6 months and so. I also have taught myself to understand what all those numbers in those reports mean. I know that's no biggie, most people know that but it's a new one for me. Similarly I care a bit more about staying fit; I consciously try and avoid the junk that I love so much. I just realised its been two months since I had Joey's pizza *sob sob*

Although, there are a few things I have picked up when I was closing in on the 29/30 age mark which I am quite happy about. I have started to enjoy heading out and doing things on my own - watching plays for example. I like the solitude of my own company sometimes. I have picked up a cause that I feel very strongly about and am trying to do my bit. 

So what do you think, age or just laziness 😁 My brain keeps swinging between the two; I think it's usually an amalgamation of the two. 

You know how people make such a big deal about the whole "turning 30" bit; take it from me it is still just a number. Being happy in your own space triumphs all other feelings. Of course, sometimes the higher the number, the better it is - be it in a salary package or a bottle of wine 😜

klackty klack & all the blah blah

Every weekend I board the (in)famous Mumbai local train to get to my class all the way in South Mumbai from the suburbs. Having stayed away for about 5 years, I thought getting used to the local train again would be as painful as it is for any newbie trying it out. Turns out, I was happily mistaken. Yes the crowds are much larger and there is no real difference between peak and non peak hours. On my first ride (after 2 years easy), I did have to look around a bit to figure where the bunch of women were waiting - indicating that's where the ladies compartment of the train stops. As the train approaches, the tension increases. People are still hanging by the footboard and travelling. The crowd on the platform surges forward, pulling me along with them. I sway with this wave of women, dragging my bag with me to enter that 2nd class compartment. I am in .. Safe ... and what do you know, my bag is entangled on the doorway pole. A 5 second struggle follows, with the women standing around and thoroughly amused. Needless to add, noone helps.

One of the ironies I have always wondered about is the joy of standing on footboard when there is space to stand inside the compartment and sometimes a place to sit. I quietly settle at the corner of a regular train bench already occupied by 3 women. I get no dirty looks; its normal - with no regard to the size of the women, their bags or the bench there's always room for a fourth (or ninth in case of the longer bench). I pull out my iPod and plug my ears with the sounds of Pitbull; I assume it will let my mind drift and not bother about what is happening around me. Sadly mistaken !!! The volume of my iPod cannot overpower the sound of 4 women chatting around me. The topic on the floor was the great woes of the household with special focus on the saasuma (aka Saasuji, Saans & mother in law). As my music is drowned by stories of how one women is tired of only making aloo sabji coz that's what the saasumaa wants everyday, the other interjects and dismisses the story as regular..."that's nothing to complain about... meri saans toh daayan hai"; As the story telling session begins, out comes a pack of fruits and a knife - a snack is needed. We go past Bandra station n I am a silent listener, intrigued by the story of the daayan mother in law; the one who is feeding her grand child chocolates after every meal, making it a bad habit for the child, who pretends to fall sick every third day and blames it on the daughter in law's (aka our narrator's) cooking . I get to know how the husband prefers coming home late rather than being party to these arguments in the house. By this time, the arguments take a different course. This is the time the saans and bahu of the reel life (read TV soaps) take center stage in our narrator's home. The arguments turn to defending the behaviours of their on screen counterparts ".. aaj kal ki bahu; koi izzat nahi hai"... The other women in the group nod and agree with their friend - it seems the scene is the same in every household. Their admiration of the TV soaps depicting their real life story is evident and definitely amusing.

It is now about 30 minutes later and I can see the train pulling into Churchgate. The remaining fruit is packed up along with the knife and put away in the bag. The women adjust their sarees and pick up their belongings. As the train stops, they disperse, probably meeting next on their way back home. As for me, I zigzag between the crowd and rush to class; awaiting my ride back and all the stories that come with it.