Bangalore looks absolutely lovely by night.

At least the portions I saw when I made my way from the station to my friend’s place.

I think I like this place better, everytime I visit.

I’m sitting in a cyber cafe in Koramangla right now.

Don’t they have the most amazing bungalows here? Low sloping tiled roofs. Huge terraces. And pretty gardens. Sigh…

I had to gape as I passed by one of the most beautiful looking dwelling abodes I’ve seen in a while. I mean you just don’t see these kind of houses in Mumbai.

I have three days to spend in the garden city. Three days of total time pass. Ah… I haven’t had so much fun in a long time.

So what should I do? What do people do here? I am definitely going to Aroma Garden sometime tomorrow, where I had the most amazing pedicure the last time I came here. I mean you have got to experience it to know! I couldn’t find a place like that in Mumbai.

And any other helpful tips on ways to amuse myself in Bangalore are welcome!

Don’t I just love this time of the year.

When I’m running helter-skelter trying to find that perfect place for the next 11 months of my life.

A sample from our conversations (one-sided) discussing the flats I’ve seen over the last couple of days.

Me: I liked that 7th floor place with a terrace. But what if Kit Kit decides she wants to emulate Anju George and takes a leap?

or

Me: I like that place on the ground floor. The walls are so clean. The floors are so cool. But it’s on the ground floor. Not safe for Kit Kit, no?

or

Me: That third floor place was quite nice. Very big. I looooved the kitchen. And there’s ample space for Kit Kit to play around. I don’t think she’ll get bored, no?

or

Me: Kit Kit would love looking out of the window of this place. See… see. Isn’t the view rather cool? We can place her basket here…

Oh my gawd. Whatever happened to the other two people who will be living in these places, I think?!

On a sidenote, we are really house hunting. I like the current suburb we’re living in. It’s far, I know. But since we don’t go into town much, these suburbs are quite okay for us. It’s green. It’s rather quiet. It’s rather cosmpolitan. It’s clean. And of course, most importantly. It’s affordable.

On a sidier (?!) note, I still have not figured out why brokers here take two months rent for finding a place for you. One month, I can understand. But two? It irks me. A lot.

Back to normal.

Thankfully. I was running out of clothes that matched red.

It’s been so long, that you don’t remember the last time.

I’m talking about conjunctivitis, silly.

It’s painful. It’s horrible. Not to mention what it does to your face.

On the first day, you feel like a whole potato has been shoved under your eyelids.

You can’t keep it open. You can’t close it either.

Argggh…

The second day the pain continues. Now you look like you’ve had several shots of vodka and are still not satisfied.

You look into the mirror.

Argggh…

You let out a loud scream. Is that really… what you look like?

People stare like you just stepped out of a horror story. It’s no wonder really. Looking like that, even I was shocked.

I think I’ll go home and hibernate for a while now. Before the guy at the cyber cafe throws me out.

The blog story on NDTV was carried on Monday, September 8. Thrice. And I missed it all three times! The first time I was in the train, the second I was in a shop and I had dozed off by the time they aired it for the third time. The interviews happened at the office on August 14.

Sukanya got a glimpse of it in the office. Mom called me up from Guwahati at about 11.35 pm or so to tell me she just saw me on television. “It was like you sitting across us,” she said. They’ve got this really large screen TV at home so my usually healthy face apparently looked larger than life :)

Did anyone catch it?

50 Questions. In case, you don’t have anything better to do today.

Jag here writes about progressing from a walkman to an MP3 player.

Reminding me of my loyal device, which has kept me company over more than four years now. And I haven’t had any problems with it yet. Of course, it looks old and worn out. But it hasn’t given me much reason to complain, other than that. It’s a woman’s best friend in a city like Mumbai. And if you travel around often, you’ll probably know what I mean.

For one, it cuts out the noise on the road. When you are travelling in Mumbai, ear plugs are essential because of the noise levels. Everyone on the road is honking. And there are some really ghastly tunes out there.

It cuts out the noise in the compartment. Travel in a local train at peak hours and you’ll know what I mean. You cannot even imagine the cacophony that emerges out of a hundred odd women packed like sardines.

It cuts out the comments yucky leery men pass. I don’t think a single day goes by when you don’t get to hear some sidey comment from a creep standing on the road, or passing you by on the railway platform. When I first came to Mumbai, it was the most difficult thing to get used to. Over a period of time, you learn to either ignore it or block it out totally. But it never really goes away. I have even hit a few men who decided to take a step further by trying to paw their way around. But having a walkman plugged in helps a lot. At least you don’t have to hear what they are saying.

I was really happy when FM stations launched. And a few did actually play some good music. Unfortunately, all they play these days are remixes and Hindi numbers and there are only that many you can hear. So I hardly listen to radio anymore.

A CD player seems a little bulky to carry around in trains, as Jag says, so I guess I need to progress to a MP3 player myself.

I am looking forward to the next few months because I have no idea what it will bring.

But for some reason, I am actually enjoying the feeling of uncertainty.

Of being suspended in a space where I cannot see things too clearly ahead, but I am happy none the less. Of floating around and not having to worry too much. Whichever way the fork in the road leads me now, is fine with me.

I think change is necessary once in a while. At least for me. I enjoy it. I thrive on it. In dealing with new situations. New challenges. Unknown quantities. Unfamiliar faces.

Challenges for the mind, body and soul.

And didn’t we get enough of it in the last two years! We have had some particularly challenging times. All it took was a failed venture and all the associated problems that come with it. And then surviving on just one income (and a pretty paltry one, especially in this city). There have been times when we have nearly given up hope and come very close to giving up. Some of my close friends and colleagues are probably aware of the taxing times we went through. But in hindsight, maybe that was necessary. We learnt a few lessons all right.

2003. We knew that things couldn’t possibly get worse. And they didn’t. Maybe because someone believed. Or maybe because someone prayed. Or even maybe because someone had faith.

I think the turning point was April 2003, after I came back to Mumbai after a one month trip to South India and Guwahati.

That was when things started looking up. A phone call, the day after I came back. And we could finally see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

No, we still aren’t safe and on level ground yet. But looking back, we’ve definitely started clawing our way back up. It will take time. It will take much more effort. But at least we can see the light shining in the distance now.

And for all friends, colleagues and family who helped - Nikhil, Prabal, Mona, Gauri, my parents and in-laws; others at work who encouraged - Zaki, Ashok, Nidhi; and of course, you folks who have been visiting my online home for a while, and all the wonderful people I have met through my blog - this is my way of saying thank you :)

Change. A new beginning. Yes, it’s definitely time.