My Exorcism

That’s what my friends are calling it, the exorcism of PC. The prequel to this horror story started in June, when my grandmother went to my family pundit who suggested that before looking for “suitable boys”, I had to get this pooja done. I found out about this little nugget later, much later.  My mother dearest informed me that it was grandfather’s last wish that I do this one thing. I don’t believe in all this hoopla, but she had the “ace”, I can’t say no to her when she uses my granddad’s name in vain. So, I bucked-up and booked tickets for a three day ritual after many months of negotiating.

I had no idea as to what was going to happen. My brother went through the a similar ritual before going to the US, so I assumed it would be a cake walk, go to the temple, sit for half hour and come back home. Little did I know the deviousness of it all. As soon as I landed my mom listed down the do’s and don’ts during my stay.  Here’s the list:

• No stepping outside the house other than to the temple
• Head bath at 6 in the morning when it was freezing cold outside (repeat for 3 days)
• No sleeping on the bed ergo sleep on the hard floor (sleeping on sofas also included in the don’t list, crushing my only hope of beating the system)
• No pillows!
• No eating/drinking/even-thinking about outside food (thank god for my grandmas arisalu which were technically made inside “her” house so were eligible for yours truly’s can-eat list)   
• No visiting of places that were forbidden (I did not get the list of said places, so I was wildly speculating at this point but apparently the list is quite sedate, places include pregnancy wards(!) et al)
• No NV food on a weekend at home (I actually got my mother to make her famous biryani the night before so at least I got one thing covered, seriously! What’s the point of coming home when you had to eat the same dal for three days)

I was little miss naive when I went to the pooja on the first day till the guy made me repeat a sloka which can be literally translated to me begging god for a suitable boy every five minutes. FTW! I was conned by my own parents! I couldn't obviously cry wolf and walk out, so there I sat like a nice gult girl with bangles, bindi, dupatta and other accouterments praying for a suitable boy for the next two hours. I did get my frustration out as soon as we walked out of the temple. I did the silent treatment, a lot of yelling, back to silent treatment; none of them worked though. My mother was unflappable. I have never seen her so excited about anything, she was just waiting for the ritual to get over so that she can start planning my demise (at that moment I could actually picture her evil gleeful laugh!) Anyhoo, I gave up and got my kindle out (thank you yet again amazon, for saving my life’s myriad problems by denial yet again). This went on: me reading my kindle, my mother’s planning and my father’s nonchalant agreement to whatever my mother says for two days.

The final day was the big purge, the Homa. We reach there early where I was made to recite that godforsaken sloka n number of times after which we sat around the consecrated fire at which point my on-again-off-again dust allergy started acting up. For the next two hours I was competing with the pandit’s chants with my mellifluous sneezes. I guess all the evil things in me got out of my nose by the end of the process. My mother was fuming at me the whole time; it was either look at her or the burning pyre, I took the easy way out, pyre it was. The torture did not end there if you think this is enough, after the horrific two hour snezathon, I had to listen to the pandit’s gyaan session where he mistook me for my cousin and went into Dr. Phil marriage counseling mode (couldn't blame him though with all the ghee fumes around, it can happen, trust me on this one). So, there I was literally crying because my nose won’t stop watering and my ears were ready to burst listening to “7 ways to keep your husband in your pallu”, “In-laws and You, Feel the Fear” and other such endearing topics. 

And after being through all of this you would expect some sort of effect right, not in the obvious department. My mother actually appeased for a minute and made the pandit include “advancement in career” also in the prayers. So, I come back Monday morning, ready for my not-so-busy office life and wham I am hit with so much work I don’t think I am going to see the light of day for the next two weeks.

Totally worked. NOT

My Beach Bum Vacation

Waldeinsamkeit. Go on, try and pronounce it. It sounds like something scientific, but this strange word is a beautiful idea, it means “the feeling of being alone in the woods”. As I was reading about it, I knew that this is what I have experienced for those three days in Gokarna. It’s the feeling of temporary suspension from my life, where the only thing that is real is the distant rumble of the sea. 

I will remember those moments when I was travelling in the train cramped between friends, where I was moving from one city to another waiting for the next destination.  There was an utter sense of awe at 6 in the morning when we are on top of the hill overlooking the islands across the sea, watching the morning sun rise. The more I think about the trip, the more I tend to romanticize it. I seem to forget the problems and those fights in between.  It’s felt like a small piece of the world where we are utterly alone. 

The thing about vacations is that the better it is the worse the fall out after it gets over.  I did not expect this last one to be this good. I had not even planned it properly. One drunken night, P, S and I were talking about taking a break and then I went home and booked tickets in a frenzy. Next thing I know, I have all my bags packed and heading to the beach. I did have lot of information printed out just in case things go haywire. Gokarna, never did I imagine that this place would make me want to be a beach bum for life. It’s a small village 2 hours south of Goa for those who dint know where this is. 

We took a direct train from Mumbai which in itself was exciting thanks to all the junk train food we bought from every single station. And to top with all-you-can-eat-train-food-fest we had the most interesting conversation with an Italian tourist. He was on his way to Gokarna and every time he said the name of the town there was a glimmer in his eyes. He couldn’t stop gesturing about how good the place was. He kept talking giving us insights about his travels and went on to give some advice as to which European country men should we marry in case we decided to (Italians obviously, closely followed by the Spanish, Germans and French were a huge no-no :)). He was coming from a two month tour of Spain, which started off the long debate of which cities to cover on our next never-going-happen Eurotrip. We have almost finalized our pit stops in Spain and Italy :)

We landed in Gokarna at around 5 30 in the morning and for the first time in our lives all three of us were up without the poking and prodding from the others. We got down and got ourselves a shared cab with some Germans. It looked like we have been transported back to the 70s with hippy looking crowd everywhere you see, dog-eared books in their hands, hobbling big backpacks around slowly while smoking incessantly. It was perfect! It felt unreal, the peace and quiet, took me a while to get used to not hearing the traffic noises.

For 800 bucks we got ourselves a private cottage(!) which was a bit more insect friendly than we realized, so we ran across to get an upgrade. Sharing the bathroom with snails is a deal breaker. With the promise of a better room, we marched with our heavy cameras and beachwear to the restaurant/ shack. The food was just perfect, the banana pancakes, king fish, calamari, tiger prawns (Okay, me stopping now, I am hungry just thinking about the food). The waiter became our best friend there. He knew we were the high rollers(!) ordering everything on the menu. By the end of the vacation he even got the reserved sign just for us J

I have never felt so at peace during any vacation, it’s like being on an island where you cannot think about the mundane problems of your life. All I did during the three days was just go into the water and float away for as long as I felt like and then laze around on the beach and read. It’s the perfect way to spend a weekend, or a week or maybe a month. I have this crazy plan of going there again for Diwali for 10 days. Me and my Kindle on a journey to be the perfect beach bum.

In between all that I did do a lot of picture taking which was different from the last few vacations because I have P who in her new-relationshippy mode wants to immortalize all her outfits by sending them all the way across the Atlantic for some appreciation. At one point I had two DSLRs on me and shouting orders to pose properly. It was fun though, I realized I am not that bad at people photography :)

I have never had a vacation where I was totally relaxed, there was something or the other on the back of my mind niggling away the sense of peace, but here it was just calm. No thoughts, no over-analyzing things. It was refreshing. But with all the lazing around the beach I look like a black person with really bad tan lines. Totally worth it though :)

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