thoughts during one teenage patient's session

There was a time when I wished I could switch lives with the boy I had a crush on. Life must be easy as a clueless boy, I thought. Completely oblivious to the raging hormones and deep, secret desires of a desperate teenage girl. I spent three years of school pining for him and he never even realised. He was good at sports, the topper in Math class, cute and wasn’t even that evil – he was just plain clueless. Even his girlfriend wasn’t your proverbial ditzy, manipulative cheerleader practicing celibacy only so she could have him wrapped around her little finger. She was intelligent. Intelligent enough to see that I wanted him so badly I froze everytime I smelt him within a five kilometre radius. And she was nice enough not to malign me. Instead she tried to help me out once in a way, when she found me alone, sobbing under the stairs of the football field.

I was fat, covered in spots and I thought that if only I lost some weight, dressed better and got him to notice me… well then everything would work out. He’d realise what a wonderful person I was (yes the clichéd inside and outside) and be with me forever. Needless to say that didn’t happen. We are friends now. He is no longer with the beautiful, intelligent (now a surgeon) girlfriend but I no longer want the perfect boy. I continue to occasionally want boys who are not available, for various reasons.

When we are young, we do stupid things. We think even stupider things. And we come across questions in school interviews like, if you could be one person, who would it be? My answer to this question changed about a million times over the years. It went from characters in my favourite television shows to fictional characters (because live people were not perfect enough) and then real people who had almost perfect lives. But nobody has the perfect life.

Take the man sitting across you in your office. Never noticed him, right? He thinks you’re hot. He jerks off to thoughts of you pretty frequently. Well it’s either you or the other well-dressed, attractive girl in your department. Except she doesn’t come in to work as often as you do. She’s prettier than you and she’s doing the boss. Well not literally. But in a way she is, because your boss does not order her around and when she smiles at him and twirls her hair while talking to him once in a way, she makes him feel alive. And no, of course she won’t literally do him. She’s better than that. And he’s married with a kid on the way. Come on, she has some morals. Now you wish you were her. Or more like her. You probably wouldn’t if you knew she had been abused by her grand-uncle as a child and never realised till she was an adult and it was too late. The only man she’s ever been with was him. And she can’t bring herself to trust a man after that. Doesn’t seem such a perfect life now, does it?

My point is, don’t think silly things like “I want to be like my mother one day”. You don’t know what hell your mother or even Mother Teresa have been through. Which is why the only person I want to ever be is my furry Golden Retriever, Madonna. Yes, her name is Madonna and she’s practically revered in my household. When Madonna is hungry, she gets food. When she yawns, she’s given her blanket. And trust me, her life is better than celebrity Madonna’s. How the hell would I know that? Well, because I’m (celebrity) Madonna’s therapist.

My tryst with schoolboy made me think, and wonder why we women suffer from such pointless yearnings sometimes. I delved into it and found the topic fascinating and voila, became a therapist for the rich and famous. And miserable.
Madonna is luckier than we humans will ever be. Trust me. Here I obviously refer to the retriever who does not retrieve.

small spaces, loud noises

I was sweating. Profusely. And I never sweat. I “perspire” like my aunt says. Women do not sweat profusely. They perspire gently.

Whatever. I was dripping. Drip-drop. That rhymes with tick-tock. It occurred to me randomly. If I suddenly started singing a disco tune sung by a blonde with a bull-ring through her nose, I might have killed myself. Rather than have the director kill me.

I tried not to sigh visibly. My line came. I said it with utterly convincing emotion (while dripping sweat off my forehead on to the tip of my pert nose) and walked off stage. In the wings Hema stood, ready with a powder puff. “What the hell is wrong with you? You *never* sweat!” “I know right? Hell. Gimme that,” I grabbed the powder puff and the compact fell to the ground with a loud clatter. We froze. I’d better kill myself now. Keshav was certainly going to chop off my limbs otherwise and watch as I bled slowly to death. The image came to mind. While I pictured my painful death, Hema picked up the compact, powdered me and sent me back on stage.

I couldn’t see anything in the audience because of the glare of the lights. The performance space was small. It was a weekend and apparently more than a handful of people had heard about the play, so the place was packed. I was either going to be hacked to death by said director or would suffocate. It occurred to me that I should stop thinking about how I was going to die. Especially since every imaginary scenario culminated with a death on the very same day I was thinking it.

After the painful scenes, my heart began racing as we approached the climax. Which involved my death on stage. I said on stage, don’t get your hopes up. The dialogues began to quicken and the pace and atmosphere visibly improved, my heart felt lighter. The momentous death happened. There was pin drop silence. My chest was bursting with delight and I thought “Ah, maybe Keshav will think this stupendous end was worth the sweat and clatter.”

And then I heard it. A loud fart ripped through the not-so-large performance space. And then a roar of laughter. I cracked open an eyelid and saw my fellow actors slowly cracking smiles on stage, and imagined a roar of fury that was my director. And the laughter quickly spread through the entire audience.

the joke

... that is the "media" today (ah so we used the wrong picture. so what?)

... that is "professionalism" today (read extended whisper conversations/g talk conversations at any office)

... that is "nature" today (extensive global warming and volcanoes erupting in ICE-land)

... that is the "economy" today (extensive global warming and we worry about airlines' losses)

... that is "priesthood" today (masses of abortions, mothers paid for their silence and children molested)

... that is "politics" today (a rally undertaken for price rise and the media pays no heed, but says it disrupted traffic. what about price rise?)

... that is today's "politician" (shashi tharoor. enough said)

... that is "humanity" today (buying a pedigree boxer, sterilising him and throwing him on the streets, to the mercy of speedy traffic, because the procedure went wrong)

... that is "love" today (where do I begin: valentine's day? no, wait: fighting or making up over text messages. or even sexting, which I now learn is sex over text messages)

... that is "marriage" today (pretending you did not marry someone earlier, so you can marry an unsuccessful but notorious tennis star)

... that is "domestic help" today (a maid who raises your bp, talks back to you, and anyway you can sweep your house better than she can)

... that is "writing" today (a three-word poem. come on!)

... that is "office politics" today (you, z, have slept with x and y, who are friends, but broke up with both so they began the "we hate z" club)

... that is "saving tigers" today (putting them in reserves and being paid off by locals so they can bring on the poaching)

... that is "sports" today (IPL. enough said. no, wait. 20-20 cricket. you disagree? go on. let it rip)

... that is a "friend" today (she is on your facebook and you can't stand her guts [read, you both slept with the same guy and she's jealous of you because she thinks he ended it with her because he's into you, not literally, but the truth is he's just an ass] but everytime you remove her from your friends list, she adds you again, or contacts you because she wants publicity for said "boyfriends" professional ventures. oh yes, she works for him now)

... that is "family" today (they love you because you're worth 1,500 crores)

... that is "entertainment" today (watching anorexic models squealing on television because someone chopped off their hair while they slept or asked them to get ready for a marionette shoot and they don't know what that means)

... that is "blogging" today (rants like these. yes, this is a rant. was i so subtle that you didn't realise? i'm sure. [yes, sarcasm.])

blogger's note: is not mad at the reader [if there are any] so please refrain from feeling offended. is just having another fabulous day at office.

the great australia trip - III

Cairns is the place to go if you want to see the Great Barrier Reef. And everyone wants to see it. We landed there at midnight, went to the wrong backpackers and finally landed up at the correct place well past one in the morning. Nomads Esplanade. The room was dark, someone was snoring and my heart sank when I realised we were sharing the room with a boy and we were all supposed to use the same loo. My heart sank even more when I approached my bunk (I got the one above the snoring boy, what fun) and saw the mess. Then the said heart fell to the bottom of my feet when I went into the loo. It wasn't as bad as some of the Indian bathrooms I've encountered but that isn't saying much really. It was just not what one would like to shower in after a LONG day of moving out of our gorgeous Brisbane backpackers (it was so perfect it even had a bright yellow wall, sniff) meeting koalas and wallabies, wandering in the cancer-causing Australian sun, visiting a windy beach and getting on a crowded and dehydrating flight.

Thankfully the people looked nicer (so did aforementioned bathroom) in daylight. Cairns was not what I had expected. After sleeping almost till noon the next day, we showered and headed out in search of food. I was introduced to Nando's, a popular chicken joint in Australia. I don't eat chicken, but their famous peri-peri sauce is famous for a reason. For vegetarians there are almost no options when it comes to food, unless you cook your own meals. Burgers are almost tasteless, but a dash of peri-peri sauce will go well with almost anything. Post a veggie meal at a chicken joint, it was time for us to check out the lagoon. It was alternately called a fake beach, which made me wonder. But it turned out to be a giant swimming pool for the citizens of Cairns who could not voyage to the Reef to scuba dive and swim everyday. I settled down with my Ian Rankin and the grey skies opened up. They had been threatening to for a couple of hours. So much for summer in Australia, I thought. My two friends were in the pool and sans any towels or warm clothes. For them it was like Wet 'n' Wild (trip 1) all over again, until they decided to go and buy aboriginal print towels (disgustingly over-priced these souvenir shops are I tell you). We wandered around after that, checking out the night market nearby, and tucked ourselves in that night in preparation for our trip to Cape Tribulation the next day. Day one of Cairns was pretty dull you might think, and one might agree. We were planning to join a friend on her tour to the Reef but apparently one needs to book well in advance for such tours. In any case, snorkelling is not a good idea for non-swimmers, no matter what people may say.

Up bright and early.. oh wait, it was pitch dark and we tumbled out of our top bunks and nearly gave the occupants of the lower bunks heart-attacks. (I tend to dramatise things a little. Anything for you readers!) Ok well, it was dark and chilly. Remnants of the earlier day's thunderstorm. Or whatever. Rain on the Great Barrier Reef the one day I want to visit equals to a thunderstorm I say. Anyhow, where was I. Ah right. The Cape Trib tour was one which would take us to an animal reserve, a river (read, place for people to jump into cold, running water to make use of the bikinis they were wearing), a boat ride where we would attempt to spot live alligators (hear, hear, animal lovers) and then finally to the beauteous Cape Tribulation itself. Which I cannot describe because WE NEVER WENT THERE.
Yes, it began pouring just as we hopped on to the boats to spot alligators. So we got completely drenched and cold and miserable on the boat (is that beginning to sound familiar?) and were eagerly anticipating our final destination. Till we were informed that the river had reached a certain height making it unsafe for anyone to travel by it, which is how we needed to get to Cape Trib. So we sighed and went instead to Port Douglas, which is an extremely posh place where TomKat have a beach house.

The rest of the day wasn't bad, don't get me wrong. I was strangely not too depressed by the fact that we were on possibly one of the two tours which would not make it to Cape Trib the entire year. But going on the tour was still barrels of fun. For one, Australian tour guides are god's gift to erm, Australia? No really, they know their s*#^. From which plants could possibly make you unconscious to why the bats were out in the day when it was raining the day before, to every single, minute detail of the places we visit, were supposed to visit and were passing by. And they're fun aside from being knowledgeable. The tours are also a great way of meeting more strange people from all over the world with unpronounceable names, strange eating habits and incoherent accents. Lovely people. This might sound cliched but, as anti-social as I am, I had an incredible time meeting new people everywhere I went and talking to them (or listening to them talk, in my case). And remember: on these tours you represent your country. I still remember the two noisy, catty English girls on the tour. If I'd never been to the UK or met others from there, I'd never know that they all aren't like that.

After our return and teary farewell to our fabulous guide Mark, we headed out for a night about town. To a place called the Rhino Bar, with girls donning feathers on their rear-ends dancing on the table tops. The music was loud, beer was flowing freely (all 17,873 types of Ozzie beer) and I had more foreigners to meet. And an early morning flight to catch to Adelaide.

The next morning (the same morning rather) we missed our 4.30 am shuttle to the airport but made it on our flight. We missed the Reef and Cape Tribulation but it was an excuse for us to promise to return to Cairns in the not-so-near future. Adelaide was surprisingly cold. And the backpackers we were staying at was far-removed from any traveller-friendly (read, inexpensive) shops or eateries. We walked, and walked, and finally found a Subway and a mall where we salivated over beautiful Beagle puppies (and I bought my Labrador some toys), gorgeous stationery and indulged in bubble tea. A discovery made by me, courtesy my friend, in Adelaide. Bubble tea is essentially tea flavoured juice with tapioca balls you can slurp up through your rather large straw and chew on. My definition of heaven in a straw.

Luckily for us, my Indian friend had entertainment planned for us. Friends from Coimbatore who were living in Adelaide proceeded to take us around in their car, and show us Adelaide's alcohol shops and the inside of their living room (where I discovered Saw and loved it). Adelaide was chilled out (literally, also because of the weather) and a break from all our tourist-y running around and lack of sleep. I hadn't realised when leaving India, but usually when we flew from one city to another, we would be entering a different timezone. One forgets that Australia is a large country AND a continent. The Adelaide Fringe was on but we missed it because we went, saw gargantuan drunk crowds, and decided to go home with bottles of goon and Red Label and get drunk ourselves (for a definition of goon, refer to 'the great australia trip -I'). A Greek friend also showed off his driving skills and took us on a 120 mph drive up a mountain. Erm, hill. When one drives at about 150 mph up and down a very steep road, one experiences a feeling similar to if one had been on a rollercoaster. We also visited the harbour, by night, and froze some more.

All in all, Adelaide was fun in an entirely different way. Lots of laughter, alcohol and sleep. A good rest because Alice Springs-Uluru (our next stops) were possibly the most tired I would ever feel in my life. In a wondrous way :D
And that is up next.

**pic credit: sanjana soman**