Reflections of a restless eccentric

 Yes, this is going to be one more rant post. After having been woken up from my slumber for the fifth time, I am in a grumpy and grouchy mood alright.  The lights, fans and geysers in my room are smart. They're so smart that they decide when to turn on and off. And if you're imagining some tech-savvy house where there are sensors that detect presence/movement, stop right there. That's not what I'm talking about. This is a bug, not a feature. In my room, the lights turn on in the middle of the night, arbitrarily. When we're sound asleep. I detest getting out of bed for anything, and turning off lights is no exception. My spirit animal must be a sloth bear, because I'd rather sleep with the lights on than get out of bed to turn them off. My husband is way more bothered by the lights than I am, so he's usually the one to get out of bed to turn them off too. No complaints there. But today, he's not at home you see. And so, the Narada of electrical Gods has ...

Warning: This is going to be a rant on several first world problems I'm grappling with. While I am aware of that, I feel overwhelmed and need to spout this out. It is a Sunday afternoon, and I feel frustrated. Frustrated because I haven't been able to get any work done all day, and now I'm listening to this annoyingly smug service person who has come to fix my washing machine. He tells me: No water should fall on these buttons, Ma'am. Obviously, if you let it get exposed to water, it'll stop working.   I feel like ripping my hair out in frustration: How is this a reasonable expectation for a washing machine? It's not like I poured a bucket of water on the panel. But when I'm taking wet clothes out, water drops are bound to fall on it. I try not to lose my temper as he patronizingly lectures me on rust and voltage fluctuations and other 'here-be-dragons' before he makes his pitch for buying AMC for the machine. He manages to contradict himself in eve...

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on the said topics. However, my exposure, as limited as it is, has been sufficient to provoke my fury.  I have never been a very social person, and attending weddings was never on my list. That being said, it is that phase of life where every one of my friends seems to be getting married, and that has forced me to turn up to a multitude of such events. Most of the weddings I've attended have been South Indian, hence my chosen examples are from there too- however, I'm sure they are prevalent in other forms in other cultures across the country, and maybe even in some outside. Let's start with this ritual that's called Kashi Yatra. For the uninitiated, let me explain. Right before the wedding begins, the groom decides that he doesn't want to get married and would be better off going on a holy pilgrimage to Kashi and embracing sanyaas . He picks up an umbrella and other apparently necessary paraphernalia to commence this so calle...

As always, I'm hoping to channel all that pent up frustration into some world-class humor and wit. Here goes:D  Since this is a personal account, I have to give the necessary background even if it be perfunctory.  I have never been a clotheshorse. My choice of clothing has always been decided primarily by comfort and secondarily by its ease of procurement(three cheers to online shopping!). Therefore, after those initial few skirmishes with tailors, I gave up on stitched clothes altogether. By the way, I'm not exaggerating when I say this. One of my first experiences goes thus:  There was a tailor to whom I gave a dress material and asked him to stitch a salwar. A chudidar/salwar is one of those Indian garments where you have a top half of clothing(kurta) and a bottom half(chudidar/salwar). S o the cloth for the top half had floral patterns, and the bottom half was entirely striped.  Now this bloke was extremely creative. So creative that I wouldn't be wron...