It is such a wonderful feeling to have your own AC. Well,
frankly, during the days when I was a student, Kolkata was not this hot, and
even if it was, AC was not that popular, except for the high income zone. These
days I hear of centrally air conditioned schools and colleges, well, in my time
it was not so, and mind you, I have always been to private institutions. But
ya, once I went for training with my first MNC, things changed. I can’t still forget the luxury
of that single room I had for all 4 months of training. By some twist of luck I
never got a roommate, and I loved it that way. I still remember being like this
village idiot, sitting on the floor and looking around in awe – the first day I
checked in that room. So, goes without saying that was the first time I lived
in an air conditioned room. Then, on and off, during almost all my onsite
tours, I got to taste similar luxury. But never in my own room. Like I have
always said, the gap in the standard of my living based on whether I am onsite and offshore always pained me. God
knows why, Indians get habituated with that lapse very easily. Oh, that was
onsite, we had money then, and anyways the office was paying for accommodation.
Once offshore, they get back to the savings track. And then moreover, Bangalore
is an air conditioned city, more or less. Nobody buys an AC there for home use.
Well, can’t say that for Kolkata. The heat here is getting
worse by the day. But then, I didn’t have a job. I was not sure whether to stay
here or return to Bangalore. I was in one thousand and one dilemmas. But then,
as of now, today, I am happy. The AC has been installed, and going out of
station doesn’t even come in my mind. I was not very happy with the
installation though. They did a pretty casual kinda job and didn’t even bother
cleaning up after they were done. Even the drilled hole for pipe outlet was not
plastered. But then I had made up my mind, whatever be the amount of dust, I
shall sleep in my room itself. Well, dad and mom cleaned off the dust while
hollering at me to stay away (that old allergy and asthma problem) – but then,
once I entered the room, shut the doors and windows and put on the AC, it was
pure bliss. Who cares that I can’t spend the summer in Europe anymore. I have
my mini Europe in my room now.
I was being a kid and nagging with dad. Dad, am I a good
girl? Just to get rid of me, he’d say, yes, a very good girl. And I’d proudly
tell him, dad, I’ve been a good girl and I have earned this AC for myself. Yes,
I am that happy.
Did a huge lot of sale shopping this Saturday, and got two
wonderful shoes for myself. Had a great dinner with mom afterwards, in a
restaurant nearby (crispy chicken, my favorite). The people there might be still having stitches in their
stomach, from watching us arrange our shopping in between courses. I tell you,
it is fun behaving as village idiots once in a while.
There was one small thing that caused a minor glitch. The
colleague in my previous organization, whom I once called friend, has a blog,
which in fact, I had created for her. Told her that she can unburden herself in
the blog whenever things go beyond control, way I do. Well, I don’t know what
made me look at her blog after I had posted the last entry. Perhaps the new
found happiness urged me to ensure that she’s ok too – because there’s no other
way to know her whereabouts, we are no more on speaking terms. Well, it was
like a tiny prick of needle when I read that she has called me a hypocrite
(whose priority is to maintain friendship with her husband, and so I call him a
good person) and she cited the time she sat beside me as I cried for Boo, and
wondered how I would have felt had she called Boo a good person then. And of
course she accused me of not remembering how good a friend she had been to me.
1.
Read the definition of hypocrite anywhere, and
come back to me if you still don’t understand.
2.
I never blamed Boo when I cried for him, I
always maintained that he is a good person. Now that I don’t cry for him
anymore, I have become indifferent. Doesn’t matter to me whether he’s good or
bad. I know he’s been bad to me, but he’s been excellent to his parents and
wife. It is all relative.
3.
Ask me how much it costs to stay alive, and how
much more to stay happy. If I didn’t value her friendship, I wouldn’t have left
Bangalore without a job, in a heartbroken condition. She pushed me to the wall,
and yet I accepted the blow and didn’t retaliate, only because I was grateful
for the support she provided during my bad days. I don’t complain. It was
impossible to coexist in the same organization with her, given her autocratic
ways, and then, I am extremely happy now with the outcome of my decision. It
was worth the struggle.
No, I don’t need to answer her. She’s a blind, stubborn
person who shall remain unhappy all her life if she doesn’t change her ways.
But then who am I to point out things. We are not friends anymore. These answers
were for me, a medicine to be applied on that tiny needle wound. Though tiny,
it hurt like hell.
At times I do feel like writing a romantic story. May be,
that’d be my ode to the full moon lady…that’d be on the probable love that
could have happened between the lonely people on earth who live like an island.
I will think about it.
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