Another battle to wage

Of course you’ve heard of the bomb blasts in Mumbai by now, and of course you’ve read the government-bashing, Rahul-gandhi squashing, BOMB-ay declamation posts doing the rounds. I’ve even seen friends squabble over a post from Delhi that belittles Mumbaikars (calling them insects), and a rant and rave that proclaims: “I’m apathetic. And, I’m not sorry.”  Words also gotten around that Mumbai is made up of the callous.

Indeed, dear world, we’re sorry. We’re sorry for not reacting appropriately. We’re sorry the terrorists seem to pick us, and NO we don’t think it has anything to do with us.

It has nothing to do with our apathy.

It has nothing to do with how we let our lives roll on.

Yes, when I hear of a terrorist attack, I still remember being one train compartment away from the bomb blasts in Mumbai, 2008. I still remember my hands shaking. And, I still remember going back into that train within a few days.

But, then my thoughts move on. Go on with my work-drive to home-life afterwards routine. I call my mother and laugh about nothing, speak to my father and plan my next investment. Even send my sister an unimportant Whatsapp, then crack a joke with a friend.

I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to do, dear world. I send out a prayer. I dwell over our turbulent times.

I think about how important it is to be happy.

But mostly, I think about how we have just a brand new battle to wage. One there’s little we can do about.

Like cancer. Like making it to work on time. Like ever affording a house. Like insecurity. Like rape. Like the drunk driver that rams into your pretty white car at 3AM. Like death itself.

That’s terrorism. You can’t keep fighting it. And, you can’t let it overcome you.

And, we, Bombay have been struck enough times to learn that.

Nobody said life was easy, did they?

tactless on tuesday

You know, this is just the kind of thing that makes me feel like a tactless bitch.

I’m standing in the queue, waiting my turn in the office lunch line. Along comes the friendly canteen guy, whose company had the contract for last week’s lunch. I complimented last week’s spread, and then began to tell him how this week’s food was rather unappetizing.

Just then, the slightly round man in charge of this week’s lunch comes along and looks at me quizzically. He knew I wasn’t saying flattering things about the food, but didn’t say anything. I felt terrible.

I tried to make myself feel better. I told myself I wasn’t one among the people raving and ranting at the different round tables. But, I had still managed to offend someone who came across as incredibly harmless and terribly naïve. (This is such a rare mix in wretched Gurgaon.)

Indeed, he didn’t even have anything to do with the food, and was probably stuck working for the wrong company.

I absolutely believe in making someone’s day.

Every now and then, I manage to do just the opposite.

I do deserve this four-hour-and-unending toothache, don’t I? I do.

And, yes I know what it feels like to be working with the wrong company.

(P.s. attempting to consolidate my blogs)