Aaah... One More Week to Go!

After two months of working, eating, sleeping and fooling around, it's time to leave. Now, amidst work, I have to make last minute visits to the dentist and the tailor. A filling and a top that needs to be altered are fitted into a tight schedule that also includes lunch dates with friends. I sit each night, making a list of all that I haven't done as yet.

I have to manage time for another Friazo biscayo (cold coffee with a sprinkling of cookies). A newly married friend needs to be visited and more importantly I have to visit the nearby store and fish out the ideal present for the couple. Friends from an old workplace are also screaming for attention, leaving behind sarcastic offline messages such as, "Goodbye in advance." So I tell myself that I should visit them as well. Before I do, I remind Mom that I need her to bake me her special cake before I leave. Occasionally she also asks if I will visit a grandmother's sister or a family friend, so they don't feel too hurt.

It is during these times that I wish I had planned my stay much earlier. This time, I had a lot of packing to do as I was shifting houses in Pune. Finally, carrying two suitcases and three little bags, I'd jumped into the train. The journey was uncomfortable. The AC wasn't working properly and the train insisted on stopping at every tiny station that it passed. People selling magazines, tea and vadas pushed their way in and thrust their goodies under your nose with a threatening order, "Khareed lo."

My travelling companions were a young woman, her daughter, two men and an old man who spoke to me about his hobbies, family and medicines till we reached Chennai. Often, I'd try to stop him by staring intently at the sleazy book I had bought at the station. When that didn't work, I'd smile and say, "Music time" and listen to my Walkman. For lunch, I got oily puris, strange sabji and curd rice. "Just a few more hours," I consoled myself.

Finally, the train came to a screeching halt at the Basin Bridge Junction. Muttering mutinously, I looked out of the window wondering why it had to stop two minutes away from where my parents were waiting. The children in the compartment had begun crying. After fifteen minutes, the train sighed and began moving at a snail's speed. Mom and Dad were waiting for me. A coolie carried the luggage to the car and soon I was happily chattering away till I reached home. Presents were brought out, photographs shown and news shared. I was also giving Mom my menu for the next two months. "No chappatis, no dal" and after a decent interval I asked for a chocolate cake with three layers of creamy icing. Mom wasn't too pleased, but after another look, she agreed that I had lost some weight. So a cake couldn't possibly do much harm.

Soon I started work. In the Chennai heat, I was driving to work, writing proposals and going for shooting. When friends called and suggested that we meet up, I reminded them of all the time I had left. I frequented the pleased CD waala and watched movie after movie.

When I was home, I spent hours on the Net, chatting with classmates and other faceless email buddies. Free afternoons were spent enjoying a comfortable nap and a free evening at a theatre. During this time, I made promises to everyone, assuring them that I would meet them. I meant it, but the thought of visiting people wasn't as appealing as lying sprawled in front of the TV, switching channels. With my brother away in college during the day, I was allowed the peaceful privilege of making sure the remote control performed its designated task. So I caught up on what was happening in The Bold and the Beautiful (Not that I'd missed much in eight months).

In the afternoons I also reminded Mom about the cake and begged for an extra helping of the batter (love it). I usually felt sick after this, but I was as greedy about the batter when the next cake was being baked. So as you might have guessed, I steadily put on weight. Rather frustrated, Mom pushed me out of the house every morning at 6.45. With half-open eyes, I grumbled till I reached the gates of the aerobics centre. The sight of all those women struggling to burn their calories was no encouragement. So when I found an exercise too strenuous, I slowly walked towards my water bottle and drank from it, till the others had finished. Then one morning, I got up with a start.

I had another week to go. I began the emotional blackmail. Get me this or that, because it's my last Monday home. It seldom worked, but I was frantically trying to meet all the people I had to meet - friends, the tailor, the dentist, an old boss, a new acquaintance, etc.

By the time you read this, I'm probably back in Pune attending classes, making presentations and having fun with my friends there. And yes, I'm also telling myself that when I get home next, it will be properly planned.