Bits and pieces.

My phones and internet at home are still fucked up - Yay for the monsoons. I'm updating from work (this is becoming a bad habit), because my head hurts from writing the goddamned training module. It's finally done, and hopefully, I won't have to make too many changes.

I just got back from Baroda yesterday morning at 4:30, after spending the Independence Day weekend with Bo. Tulu Mashi and I left Bombay on Friday night, and it was a terrible journey. For one, our seats were in separate booths. Also, the guy sitting opposite was hitting on me quite blatantly. I tried to make my profound disinterest apparent by answering him monosyllabically, but he was oblivious to my "yes" and "no" and "right" and "okay"s. To make matters (much) worse, I said to Tulu Mashi, "Thik accho?" and the response I got was not from her, but from Mr. Thick Skin. "Apnara Bangali?" he asked me, with a delighted smile. "Hmph" I answered, but with predictable enthusiasm, he said, "Great! Me too!"

And. He. Would. Not. Stop. Talking. To. Me.

Fortunately (or so I thought) a bunch of people asked me if I would move to their seat so they could all sit together. I accepted gladly, relieved to be free from the one-sided conversation into which I'd been roped. I lay down on my new seat, wrapped myself comfortably in my lep, and waited for the sandman to visit. He never did. The group of sixteen who had taken my seat played cards all through the night, with no regard whatsoever for fellow passengers. They were jarringly loud, and when people would hush them reprimandingly, they simply mocked the disturbances away.

I tossed and turned, waiting for them to shut the hell up. I've always been too mild and polite a person to confront people like that, but even my patience was tried by these idiots. While I was lying down, a lady - one of the wives - sat on the edge of my berth! I asked her if she could please move (HER BUTT OFF MY SEAT!), to which she replied haughtily, "Kya? Yeh to hamara hi seat hai." [What? This is our seat anyway.] I sat up, and launched into a tirade about why I was on "their" seat, and how her friends and family were being utterly inconsiderate to everyone who was trying to sleep.

"Arre, aap ko nahin sona hai, doosron ko tho sone do!" I said triumphantly, as she tsk-tsked at my rudeness and moved to sit by her husband.

The rest of the weekend, thankfully, was not as belligerent. I fully intend to post pictures once the internet at home is up and running. But in short, the trip was absolutely amazing. It was so good to see Bo baby again, and spend time with Tulu Mashi and her. As always with the Chowdhury clan, the weekend included The Beatles, earrings, and inexplicable, uncontrollable, stomach-aching laughter.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm wearing a tank top under my kurta because it's sort of (very) transparent, and I'm totally regretting this wardrobe choice. I wish I could strip, but I've been told that that's inappropriate behaviour at the workplace. ARGH. I hate this heat.