Agnosticism by the Way of Shopping

I think I'm turning into an agnostic. 

By that I mean that the core of my foundations have been shaken and all those things that I held to be absolute truths, and good and pure and fun in the world do not seem to be so. 

Take shopping for example. Now I'm somebody who for the better part of her life has thought of shopping as the most fun activity that there could exist.The ULTIMATE recreation.The kind of stuff dreams are made of. Apart from eating. And a few other things I guess, but you get the point; its right up there in my list of 'UNLIMITED FUN'. Turns out, my personality has taken a change for the worse and I'm just not as amazing as I used to be. Like, the past few days of shopping for clothes has been - well- quite exhausting. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy looking at stuff and adding different things to my visual vocabulary but  goddamn buying just isn't as easy for me. I'm just not as spontaneous and as gregarious a shopper as I used to be, and i just don't please as easy anymore. Everything i see, i'm like yeah okay whatever. I'm not enthralled, and thats what I seek most fashion. I know, I know, its just clothes and not a roller coaster, they're not meant to enthral as such, especially if they're "shaadi formals".  But if you're paying serious money shouldn't you get some visual thrill  out of it or am I just supposed to be happy with lah-dee-da, sipping tea, clothes? Actually, I'm being a bit unfair; the clothes are not bad its just the game is different now. First and foremost I blame my job. I see too much all the time. Everything after a certain point becomes too familiar. So going around to shops and seeing things is like a repeat performance of what I've seen like 5 times minimum on my computer screen and once in person.

Secondly, although i'm quite confident in what I like, I've developed this annoying tick to try and please others (read:my mum) with my choices and that just doesn't work out for me. One, because of course everybody has their own tastes. Secondly, you see, shopping is an independent activity for me. Most activities are, tbh. I remember on vacations or even going in college, I could start out the day shopping with other people, but when it came to the nitty gritty  of buying it had to be just me. 90 percent of the time even my twin and I would separate as shopping is a serious business, that is based a lot on your gut instinct and quick decisions that just cannot be bogged down by other people's opinions. That's just how it is. For me at least. I need to be on my own in the wild. Can't hand-hold people and do the whole hum saath saath hain she-bang. It really ruins the process and experience for me. Always has. In college if me and my best friend went to Zara together, either we'd separate or only she would buy something. 

Now think, going to look at clothes and doing your groundwork with like 5 other people who all have their opinions and tastes which are nothing like yours, and body languages that can be read a mile away. How can one commit to buying with like so many things being thrown your way? It confuses you. Add to that all the things that you are constantly seeing, day after day hour after hour, with a generous helping of b.s traffic and explaining ways in city that is not your hometown to a driver who is older than Dumbledore, but  doesn't own the loyalty of a phoenix like Fawkes to help us in fixes. Okay eff Fawkes, that's too much to ask for but at least display a hint of Dumbledore's magical wisdom. Yeah yeah, he may have a heart better than Dumbledore, but like how's that gonna help us in navigating ways?

By the 5th day (today), I'm like eff it; let's just show up in pjs and make a real statement.

Or kill myself; quick and easy and lets face it I won't be alive to hear the society backlash which would be a major drawback in the showing up in my pj's plan. Okay sure, my parents might be victim to it but I'm sure they'd get over it by the time I meet them in the after life; My siblings'  antics would be wayyy hotter topics than what I did eons ago. 

So yeah, coming back to my original point. After this ground shaking experience of not enjoying something as much as I thought i would- and quite frankly fantasized about, I just don't know where I stand anymore. Is there a God? Is happiness a choice? Is a grilled cheese sandwich the best fix for a blue day? Am i just tired and so making a mountain out of a mole hill? 

 I just don't know anymore. 

Hence, I hereby announce my agnosticism.

( That is what being agnostic is right?)

The Legend of the Travelling Shoe

My dado has been a source of great knowledge for me. I can ascribe a lot of my little religious knowledge to her, she says my fashion sense comes from her, she says our tendencies to yo-yo diet also stem from her and over the years she has given some great advice;  something akin to girls beings pearls, and their shine being the IT factor in life. Aisa hee kuch.

However, the one of the single most important and useful gems of wisdom she shared with us was when we were very,very young. So young that I don’t even remember what age we were, but I know that this information I can ascribe to her. She saw one of our  shoes lying one atop the other and said- this is a sign, it means you will be travelling. I’m sure we must have hounded her like bats about how and why and the mechanics of it – “why shoes? Who says? What positions and angles are acceptable? Is it for sure? For sure, for sure,?”  And “aap ko kaisey patah?”. You can imagine I’m sure, two little girls chilling in their grandmother’s room in the late afternoon and sneaking prince biscuits out of her almari, intrigued by supposed magical powers of shoes.

In any case, from then on my sister and I took this newfound information to heart.  Many a times when we were young we’d put our own shoes in that position and take the other by the arm to show – “look, I’m travelling”. Or ask Dado to come and see- “look, I’m travelling”.  Of course that wouldn’t work since positioned our shoes ourselves. But let me tell you this, as absurd as it may sound- it works like about 90% of the time. Of course it’s about belief as well. I mean since I have believed in it for more than a decade now, I can always spot my shoes or anybody else’s shoes doing that. Many a time’s I’ll tell /ask my friends- ‘hey, you’re travelling somewhere (?) ‘, and they’re like totally not into my clairvoyant powers, and sometimes sneer at me, but I think that the loss is theirs since they live in a  world without magical shoes sending them clandestine messages.

I guess my eyes have been trained to always spot them.  And I am not kidding you, but when my shoes start doing that, the thought that I might be travelling starts taking a very real shape in my brain. Often it has happened that I have no plan to go ANYWHERE, and all of a sudden something props up. Of course there have been cases when my shoes are doing it and I’m waiting to see where I am going, and I go nowhere. To keep my belief alive, I say to my self ‘you took an internal journey’, but deep down I know that all superstitions have a certain a margin of error.  Some, in fact, many, of my superstitions have proved themselves to be wrong and not stand the test of time- like eating cake on birthday, so on and so forth, but this one has remarkably held its own. Possibly since it was passed down to my grandmother through her ancestors (I’m guessing), and hence holds the wisdom of ages.

Now I find that if I have travel plans and the shoes aren’t saying so – there is something terribly, terribly wrong.

All of this year, my shoes have been almost never apart. I would find them on many occasions one atop the other.  I would take them half seriously, and half with dread- where can I possibly be going? I just came back from thisplace/thatplace, trust me; they were true on many accounts. I don’t want to sound full of my shoes and myself and say 100% but that’s what it felt like.  I was in Dubai for more than a month, and my shoes kept doing that, and I’m thinking- “I’m already travelling, where more can I be travelling?”… well, one day, I woke up and took a day trip to Oman, quite randomly (but purposefully).

 Oh yes btw, the travelling doesn’t always mean- a luxury vacation, No! It could be anywhere, anytime. Even to Multan or some other village.  Once, I remember I was in Montreal- this is right after winter break. Literally within two days of winter break we went to NY. Came back from there, my parents ended up making a trip to Canada out of the blue. This is all, say, within two weeks of me returning from home.  Then one day, my shoes start going at it. I’m thinking ‘no, c’est impossible, how can it be? ‘.

I asked my roommate, ‘ Nor-my shoes keep saying this, where could I be going? I don’t wanna go anywhere!”.

Well, within two days, there was a plan and we were going to Toronto.

On a whim.

Against my will.

 I remember Nor saying to me, the eve of our departure- ‘remember you were saying, my shoes keep saying I’m travelling, where could I possibly be travelling? – Well, look!”

Although I was not amused regarding the trip, I was highly proud of the shoes. They had proven right once again.         I have many more stories like these, but ill spare you- I’m sure you get the gist;  didn’t know I was travelling until my shoes told me.

Now I don’t know whether this is superstition that you’d like to get into, but I would say you should, since it’s a super fun one. Who wouldn’t want to get messages from the universe when they are about to travel?

Things you need to know:

1)   There are no time lines. Only the near future. So if your shoes start doing it, just allay your mind that it could be in the near future. I think it kind falls within a month though (for maximum allowances), if you’re travelling three months from now- your shoes should be pretty calm and should do it like once in a while. If your travelling say within two days, they can be doing it ALL THE TIME.

2)    When I say your shoes- I mean whatever shoes your wearing, whenever. It is not a specific shoe that you decide will be the agent between the two worlds. Its any/ and all the shoes you wear. Basically I’d like to believe that you feet transcribe the message onto the shoes. So for example, if you were wearing your mother’s shoes and when you take them off they position themselves in THAT WAY- its you who is travelling , not your mother.

33)    You can’t take you shoes off in a way that they position themselves according to the superstition and expect to travel. Has to happen on its own, without any interference from your end. Learnt this the hard way.

44)   As a general rule of thumb, travel plans should only be spoken about once they are final, and only a few days away. No two-month in advance discussions, that’s just jinxing it.

55)   If you spot somebody else’s shoes doing it, it is your absolute farz to tell them they will be travelling, and bring the message of the travelling shoes to them. If they don’t believe it, then, well then you wait and watch. Time will tell them ( and cancel their plans).

I’ve taken quite  afew pictures of my shoes doing it, for your personal reference as to what they should be looking like, on a general basic level.

Jab We Met Revisited ( not really)

Jab We Met is possibly my favourite Indian movie of all time. There's so much to love in it,and it has some great lines,which, lets face it, can be all we remember about a movie after some time has passed. (Or a day- i have terrible short term memory). Anyway, in the movie, if you recall, there is a lot of symbolism based on trains and well, being able to catch them. Infact; its how the protagonists meet in the first place. Now this post isn't about trains, or their symbolism, but its about how I TOTALLY get how Geet felt when she catches trains and misses trains.

You see, for the past few weeks I have been using public transport a lot. By that I mean the metro and the bus. The metro is not much cause for conversation (yet), because the metro station is well air-conditioned, and the metro train comes every 5 mins without fail. Buses, however, are a far trickier business. First your standing outside, in the full blaring Dubai sun, with no chances of the sun being less in yo face at any point until sundown (today morning was surprisingly mild though). Second, the buses are highly elusive. Here one second (and a half, perhaps) and gone the next- not to be seen from anywhere between 15-30 minutes. This may not be all buses in Dubai, but its certainly the case with bus number 84. Now imagine, getting done from a hectic 6-8hr day on your feet, just wanting to lie down, and then missing the bus by just a slight and having to wait, under the sun in all its naked glory. If you cannot imagine, then let me tell you.

Simply put,

it sucks.big time.majorly.

Its a mix of anger, exasperation, heat and fatigue. Its torturous on every level; physical, emotional, and mental. About after ten minutes of waiting, you think, forget this; lets take a cab. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't. One may think, but why not just take a cab? well, money for one. Since I'm here to be a student for a bit, i'd like to partially live like one too. Which means taking the bus to school, and cabs everywhere else (i know that doesn't make sense, go figure!). The days I successfully make a roundtrip in the bus to and fro from school feel way more gratifying than others.

Two, the joy you get from catching the ever-elusive no.84 in the nick of time, especially if you feel you won't be able to make it and some running is involved- is unmatchable. It is one of the greatest feelings of elation i have experienced in everyday life. Scratch that, its one of the greatest joys I've experienced in adult life. Its pure, unadulterated joy. I don't know what that is; maybe its that you know that it had nothing to do with you, and its purely of a matter of timing, and for 5 minutes you feel like the luckiest person on the planet. Maybe because it catches you completely off-guard, and your day all of a sudden has gotten a 15-30 min bump, and now you can nicely be at home and in bed 15-30 minute sooner(and that is priceless). Or perhaps, its just that you don't have to wait today. 

Often, these moments are tinged with little mishaps, and mini-thrills. Once while running to catch the 84, my anti-aging fedora (a normal hat i wear to ward off the sun) fell off in the middle of the road. I ran back to get my hat, all the while knowing that the bus may take off,  only have all the dinner rolls i made in class fall as I picked up the AAF - Ofcourse that had to happen, no hard feelings universe, this was pure comedy. I ran back to the bus laughing, my roommate waiting inside the bus laughing as hard. Whether the laughter was because of the hat, the dinner rolls, and or the sheer absurdity of how hard we had to work to catch a damn bus, that remains a mystery.

Another time, I remember walking in the desert ( between the school and the road is this massive piece of land which i call desert) , and as soon as i got to the road, i see THE bus juuust arriving, and 2 of my classmates who had left at least twenty minutes before I did still waiting. When they saw me running and coming, they looked at me with a  mixture of amazement and envy. One even remarked, twice, "what timing!". It felt as though I had been distinguished and honoured amongst them by some special power. 

Another time, I saw the bus just as its door opened, and i was on there other side of the road,waiting to cross it, which meant that in all probability I would miss the one-second-window i had to get in. The road was also bustling at the time, cars coming without missing a heartbeat. I decided it was do or die. I started crossing the street with the cars coming at me, since surely dying in the process of catching the bus would be a most honourable way to die. In the midst of the death sprint i also started flagging the bus down like my life depended on it ( which it did). While crossing the second road, and running towards the bus, the ' will I? won't i?' feeling transformed to 'I made it!, I made it!'. The theme song from chariots of fire started playing in my head, and I felt like Geet, in the start of Jab We Met, trying to catch the train.

Point being, take the bus- 2.30dhs for an ineffable feeling; pretty pretty great bargain.

Food For Thought and Fatness

It should not come as a surprise to anyone that I have a major thing for food. Like looooove love.Sweet love. Comforting love.Passionate love.At times even obsessed love. Just as how all true love should be.But it always has been on par with fashion and things. I loooove things too. Wanting things. Buying things. Wearing things .Those two right there, food and fashion, have been the greater occupations of my not-so-lengthy-BUT-feels-like-a-hundred-years life.It's this very same affection for these two great loves of mine that has given birth to constant altercation in my mind between having yum or looking yum.
Up until a few months ago, i'd say both positions were equal winners (or equal losers; depends which glass-looking variety you are) but now I feel one side emerging stronger.

Food.

Why do i say that? well in the last month, month and a half or so i've had about 4-5 opportunities to ask people to bring my stuff from various places in the world; namely-Dubai, Toronto, Montreal and New York. Between these four places, i could have pretty much asked for whatever my heart and whims desired.We're talking jackets,moleskin notebooks, tops, and shoes. Shoes especially are the easiest go to, please-get items for me. One can never have enough of them, and there can never ever be enough to the number i fall in love with regularly. At least that is how it always was. This time around though, I don't know know what is was, whether it was the constant dressing up for weddings which has left me feeling no excitement for what i shall wear on so and so day, or whether Zara offered too many of those flat, masculine, pointy black boots that I just can't say yes to. Whatever the case maybe it seemed my heart, and whims only desired food. For everyone coming I had one and ONLY one request: please bring me food.

Was i being starved by my family? Had we fallen on hard times? by God's amazing grace, no and no.

Yet I asked for food. Goat's cheese. Choco-almond croissants. Frozen dinner rolls (seriously?). Caramel Kisses. Double-stuf oreos (hello, obesity!). Chocos- the cereal that is only available in the Middle East, with no phoney pretences of being all fibrey and healthy.

Excuse me a moment for freaking out but WHAT IS THAT? Have i turned into a pig and not even realized it? Am i the new-age cookie monster? Am i in some sort of depression that i do not even know about that? Am i masking feelings of insecurity and i dunno whatever other feelings that need to be masked by gorging on the yums? Houston, do we have a problem?

 To be honest when I realized this a few days ago, i actually felt a little good about it. I fathomed myself to be on the road towards asceticism.You know...worldly things be damned, simple wanderer life style,peace and contentment, buddha style and all that jazz.  However, as i found myself perched cross-legged (buddha stye!) on the kitchen counter at 5 am eating a carb-laden choco-almond croissant for no good reason, i realized i wasn't on the path to becoming less worldly, rather, i was on the path to becoming more fleshy- or as you and I commonly refer it- a moti bhains (TA).

Who in their right minds, and sensibly sized jeans asks for food when somebody is coming bahir se? and even if you do, it's only as a last-minute, get if you can, i.e i don't really want it, but lets be greedy still, kinda way. Not like me: 'please, please, please, get me goat's cheese' as though my life's joy depended on it (Which it did and amazingly enough, of the three people I asked for this, not a single one got it for me. And its the only thing i truly wanted. Its also the only thing with lots of protein in it and is not a representative of foods to avoid on an average day).

Thus this crazy person rant. Perhaps its good, because for the first time i felt like writing here in months, so perhaps it's pushed me out of my block, and maybe i'll write more. But lets face it, none of these two-bit silver linings can ever be a good enough excuse to be a you-know-what. 

I'd love to say  that i have come back to my social senses and all the above mentioned food items are now up for grabs so get in touch if interested, but sadly- that is not to happen. I cannot in good consciousness discard presents brought by loved ones from such great distances. Which also means,i ain't in no mood to part with them, and am still have every intention to eat. BUT slowly. Over a spans of months (God willing). With lots of elliptical and fasting in between(God extra-willing). Let's just hope that my reigning love is kind to me and my jeans (God extra,extra,willing).

Gone Girl

So I just finished Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn last night.

I'm sure most of you have heard about it; I know I've been hearing about it since last year "its amazing, its ahhmazing, you have to" ...you know the drill.

Well, they were right.

Its too much fun, and like really really on point at some times. There are points where you completely relate with the main characters; you'll be in their stream of consciousness, hearing their thoughts and will think 'ohmygod, thats exactly what I think', and for a moment you'll feel understood- then the chaacters will go on to do something so twisted that you'll question whether that's your future; are you capable of being that ---------? ( Fill in the blank, it really can be a multitude of things and I don't want to give too much away).

Its a great read- let's just start with that. You can read it in a night if you have the time. Seriously; I don't see why anyone would put it down if they don't have to- its a roller coaster ride.

The novel starts off on the fifth year anniversary of Amy and Nick , who are both very beautiful people- the author never lets us forget that. Things between the two seem tense, but since its their anniversary both are making efforts to just be okay- and then viola; while Nick goes to work, Amy disappears. Just like that.

I could go deeper into the plot, but don't want to ruin the story for you guys; since the plot is one of the strongest points of the book. You really want to know what happens. Another strength of the book is the dual narrative. We get to hear both Nick and Amy's side of the story so you can sort of understand where they both are coming from- and each narrative makes you switch sides, from Nick to Amy, Amy to Nick. This points to what a great storyteller Flynn is, and her adeptness in masterfully executing psychological portraits of her characters in a way that they resonate with the reader in a profoundly unsettling way.  

The author is also able to give a very real picture of people and relationships, the many layers they adopt to seem likable to a person,and what happens when those layers shed- and you go back to being who you are. What happens in a marriage when that happens. You see how, these people come with their own backgrounds, their own individual baggage- and are seemingly perfect and amazing in love. Fast forward a few years, and some real-life problems like losing jobs, recession, ailing parents, moving - you know, real life shit, and they don't know what to do with themselves or each other. Its how the novel starts actually, I think Nick says that he thinks this often about his wife " Who are you…what have we done with each other ?" .

“Can you imagine, finally showing your true self to your spouse, your soul mate, and having him not like you? So that's how the hating first began"

Also, additionally the book is full of great quotes. the writing is pretty great.  Its not like a literary classic or anything, but it has great colloquial gems; thoughts which are very 21 century ( we're still in the 21st right?) and you read them and think, true life. Case in point:

"A lot of people lacked that gift: knowing when to fuck off."

Find yourself nodding in agreement and saying/ thinking 'that's true' ? well that's what I'm talking about.I also love this one- its twisted romantic, cos you know just simple romantic doesn't fit in the postmodern era we live in.

“Because you can't be as in love as we were and not have it invade your bone marrow. Our kind of love can go into remission, but it's always waiting to return. Like the world's sweetest cancer.” 

The only time that I felt okay this book has gone to far is with the Desi Collings character. He was just to creepy- and you're like why did she need to bring in a caricature of a character, when the others are so fleshed out and uniquely gray? They're so human- their thoughts, their intentions their insecurities- they're all live, pulsing blood; like you and me. Then you have one of those characters walk in who seems sooooo 2D  that you get annoyed that the author; who indulged in you so much up till now , has thrown this convenient oddball in your face. That's just me though; my colleague insists that paki men are quite a bit like that in many ways. Perhaps, but its just that the convenience of it all was too much to take. You see the depiction of the main characters, their relationship, and the psychological drama behind it all is so real that you crave the same kind of realism in all other aspects of the novel as well. At least for me that's the case. Which is possibly the reason that I, unlike most people quite liked how it ended. Khair, let's not go into the ending; I really would hate to ruin it for anyone.

Anyway, go read read read! Its time really well spent, and lemme know what you think.

A Story for the Saps.

There was once a boy and a girl , who met under the most ordinary circumstances.

The girl took an instant liking to the boy; something about his voice she said. 

The boy- we'll never know.They developed a regular communication over a short period of 

time that always treaded closely on the borders of both friendship and flirtation, but the 

girl being inexperienced in such matters took it for something entirely different,which it never 

was . Their 'friendship' (for the lack of a better word) was nurtured regularly for many 

months, until it became sporadic due to no particular reason- much to the girl's befuddlement 

and distress. Through the course of time they both became involved in their own separate 

lives and their relationship seemingly came to a halt.

Sometime later, they rekindled their friendship. Awkward at first, over time they developed 

a deep bond, where they entrusted each other with small, but entertaining secrets about 

themselves.  The relationship had become entirely platonic, with semi-regular occurrences

of seemingly innocent flirtation that remained unexplored to a large extent. 

As things progressed, they found themselves enjoying each other's company more and more. 

Flirtatious banter and suggestive remarks became increasingly regular, yet they 

convinced themselves that it was just the nature of their friendship. There was nothing more 

to it.

One fine day, the weight and simmer of everything said and unsaid became too much to bear. 

The tipping point, if you will.They found themselves entering unchartered territory and raring 

to explore. It was perhaps the culmination of everything that had happened since the day they

had met. The unfortunate part of the tale is that this incident transpired under not so

pleasant circumstances that only became more unsatisfactory as time proceeding their tryst

 progressed.

Things were never the same again.

Upon inquiry, the girl mused that it was as if the two of them would visit a house with 

two rooms.They would stay in one, and almost not even acknowledge the presence of the other 

room while knowing all along that it was right there. Eventually they found themselves treading 

closer and closer to the door that connected to the other room , until they had finally entered it one day.

After that, it was just not possible for them to visit the old room without wanting to enter the 

new one again, and that was something they couldn't afford to develop into a habit.

Hence, things were never the same again.

If that was the end, we'll never know.

They both insist that it is.

Thanks a whole lot for absolutely nothing Mayans

Today is the 23rd of December 2012.
Meaning, the 21st of December is over in most/all countries around the globe, and perhaps all the places those Mayans lived, and lo and behold the world is still intact. The human race is still pumping.
The world is still going on.
Day before yesterday, when it was still the 21 of December I kinda knew that nothing is going to happen, but still kinda had a little window open for something out of the ordinary. Something, somehow that we/I could classify as well-yes-the-world-did-kinda-end-that-day. NOTHING OF THE SORT. My friend kept going on and on about how nothing is going to happen, and we are stupid to even think that something might happen- almost challenging the universe to make it end. Me and my sister were inwardly cringing whenever she said that, cos we all know that provoking the great supernatural force has never ended well for anyone. I felt that maybe, to make such naysayers fall flat on their face something will happen.
Fast-forward one entire day and...
.
.
.
Nothing I tell you, nothing. Not even a rain drop of it.
Okay fine.
Perhaps the world needn't end since most people are still pretty psyched about living.
Fine, I will digest that for the happiness and contentment for my fellow human beings. But this was the perfect time for some miracle to happen. The entire world's attention to some degree was diverted to this subject. As absurd as it sounded, as impossible it felt; everyone (by that I mean me) still at the back of their heads thought 'will it or won't it?'. So the world could've remained, but perhaps we could've seen something out-of-this-neighbourhood-cool.
Something small, something big, something magical even. Perhaps it could rain confetti, or fairy dust, or snow cotton candy. All the birds in the entire world could perhaps sing Dancing With Myself by Billy Idol. Or,or, or!... the world could've gone ahead or back in time, and like the entire clock could've been rescheduled. That would be pretty interesting too right? Just imagine!


But nope. Nothing. Zilch. Zero.

I feel bad that everyone is calling mayans dirty names, like stupids, idiots, crack...blah blah, yet I kinda wanna go upto one of them and be like, Yo! WTH was that?  Daftness ki bhi hadh hoti hai, how could you be sooooo wrong in the long-term. Short-term stupidity I understand, as I indulge in it from time to time.
But to be so off long-term? And get people to jump aboard with you as well on this?
 That's just not right.
Some of us actually made some preparations for it. I personally made sure that I did everything I wanted to before it was wrap-up time for all of us. I said good-bye to quite a few of my prized possessions, wrote a letter to the next generation who would perhaps inhabit my room, find my laptop, and manage to crack the password,  and  I bade my closet a hearty farewell. Last but not least I had consumed diet coke like there was no tomorrow the day before. But nope. The nothing happening was a big tight slap on my face. I'm ashamed to go in my dressing room, because I can feel my sister's closet laughing at me and my closet for being such wimps. Imagine, I can't even show face to in my own bathroom for fear of being ridiculed and bullied. Things are rarely sadder than that.

Things outside are less scary.

When wandering out of the parameters of my house, I am terribly embarrassed cos I've been disseminating concern regarding this since last year, however its much less brutal than what I have to face a home.

Also, if you are thinking this , then I must dispel your concerns about what kind of TV had I been watching if I believed that it would. No- I have never seen movies like Armageddon and 2012 and what not. Nicolas Cage did not convince me that the world was ending, I just thought if people soooo long before said so, before they could even fathom the meaning of the date they predicted and the world that would exist at that time-  there must be a reason, koi tho baat ho gi.
Now I know, that human reason most often lounges on a two seater made out of human folly.

Thus, after this huge betrayal by the Mayans  I hereby denounce any affiliation to any superstitions I may have ever nurtured based on other people's finite knowledge, except the shoe-travel thing.
This shocking betrayal has taught me that the only truth in anybody's random prediction or prophecy is the fact that they said it. It has also taught me to not seriously believe in the conjectures of people whom I have never met in my life.
I mean i'm questioning my own intelligence here now. But obviously it is much easier to blame someone else than to inner-reflect, so lets just hate the Mayans for now.
Perhaps in a year or two we can look back at me.