lalita larking

An obsession with cryptic crosswords. Everything else falls in place.

Location: Kolkata, India

Monday, October 01, 2007

C'est la vie

Mess she makes with buttery chocolate, as luck would have it (5,3,3,3,6,8)*

Life, 'tis said, goes on- my friend pontificated, adding that it is a bad habit life has, to go on. Wait, I must write this down- I said snidely, it's such a remarkable observation.

Things happen. Things have a way of shaking you up, yes, but they don't stop while you are being all shook up and considering how to deal with it. Things keep happening.

My son once generously took me to see a film; it was a famous film, he saw it before it was released and all that. It was on a second run because it was nominated for some award. A week after his treat that film was broadcast on the cable. He grumbled a lot about the money he could have saved. I pointed out that I'd paid for the popcorn, but that cut no ice.

Pasta, yeah. Spinach cheese and garlic sauce, with sautéed vegetables and maybe roast potatoes. That is what I want to make, and my soul yearns for. Except, the rains have made it impossible, as vendors don't carry spinach during or just after such downpours as we have had, not when entire market garden businesses have got submerged. They don't buy greens that might get sodden and rot, and they don't sell either. Greens spoil easily, cost the earth and nobody in their right senses will buy spinach during a rainy spell. So it is dal and two veg as usual. Bottle gourd anyone, and okra and spuds?

I dither and dither and finally go shopping for myself; and I find I have become the Discontinued Woman. To the perpetual insult which for the moment is merely injury of not having bras in odd numbered sizes, they have added the slight of discontinuing my preferred cut and style. Madam can try these, says the salesgirl, waving a hand at the display of sequined, rainbow coloured and padded monstrosities. No thank you, I suppress a shudder. My idea of a daily wear bra doesn't come in candy stripes or with cute ribbons, lace and embroidery. Ordinary plain and simple bras are next to nonexistent nowadays, and I have to settle for even numbers there too. I was too young when bra burning was a statement, but I'd definitely have torched the dainty matched with a g-string stuff that was on offer, I tell you. Which woman in her right mind would …oh, um… okay…I suppose. But still, ordinary days count too, is all I am saying.

I write a loving tribute to a song and a singer and the post sinks like a stone with concrete boots attached. They arrive at my blog searching for massage parlours in Kolkata/ Calcutta, meaning of Lalitha, Neha, Niharika, khoya hua rangeen nazara, sexy bedroom stories in Telugu and the Zarapkar System of Cutting, but visitors to my blog spend 0:00 seconds on any given page Google has directed them to, and they don't bother to comment either. Oh, they come looking for Valmiki and Gilgamesh and feijoa too, but what is the point?

We have an unexpected but welcome visitor on Wednesday. Much fun had, but there is shortage of spirits on Thursday and it cannot be remedied. Thursdays are dry days, you see. Actually, so are Independence Day and Republic Day; let's not talk about why Second October must be a dry day. Why should sale of liquor on any given day be curtailed in a democratic country? Whose sentiments are being appeased? Why aren't my sentiments that I'd like a tipple in the evening being appeased?

I finally figure out a fiendish anagram, but broadband is dead, so I can't submit my solution for the prize crossword. It is not a big deal, I know, just irksome not being able to do a thing one wants to. Calling BSNL will only mean the aggravation of interactive voice services and keying in my zillion-numbers long contact number for them which is an exercise in pointlessness as they never get back in touch with me anyhow.

There are many ways to express sympathy and commiseration: hard luck, tough cheese, too bad, better luck next time. There is no next time, really. First impressions don't have a second chance and time only moves forward. But thank goodness we learn to live with events; songs heard, jokes repeated, loves lost and grief overcome.

Ahead maybe shoals of angst, storms of rage and reefs of misery. But we keep steering, not in hope of landfall as sailing is all, but because to stop steering is admitting to the doldrums. Being becalmed won't get us anywhere. So let's not avast, but avaunt.

Another day, another post, as my friend said. C'est la vie.


* That's the way the cookie crumbles


Blogger dipali said...

C'est la vie indeed, Lali.
Life be like this only.

11:24 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You write best when you are harassed by daily life it seems. Avast, avaunt, bravo. Best of luck.

11:31 pm  
Blogger anantha said...

Missus Em: You constantly undervalue your posts! I know a comment is worth some, but surely the smile that the post brings to one's face is worth at least a wee little bit.

5:39 am  
Blogger Lalita said...

Dipali- Yeah, such is life indeed.

Johnnie- Are you sure about this monicker, dear John? It's a perceptive remark, yeah, but others have noticed it before you. Thanks.

Anantha- A smile, if brought by a post of mine, is gratifying, it is validation yes, but I wouldn't know unless I was told about it, no? But such is life, so I assume each post of mine lights up somebody's day, heh.

7:54 am  
Blogger Apoplexy said...

I used to come from a link at a friend's place - now I have my own! When I was a kid, I had a size 31 on my shirt...and only very few people would carry it.And why this preference for the even I dont know.Dont know where you live..but heard from my baba that in Chetla, the veg vendors came..peter daaye, as they say..I cannot imagine how.I have passed these vendors for 15 years and I have seen one of them to grow middle aged from a newly wed -a 30kg weight and 5 hours of journeying after sitting under the sun for 8 hrs makes one age fast.Next time I am there, I want to know her.

2:21 pm  
Blogger Lalita said...

Apoplexy- I am not sure what you mean by friend's place and your own. Blog? But peter indeed. I talk to vendors at Lake Market, have seen young lads become strapping big young men and do porter service. It is a small and insignificant connect, but I know all their names, the houses they are building in desh and so on.

Don't let's talk about odd and even numbers, it makes me gnash my teeth.

10:30 pm  
Anonymous UnFaized said...

Since we are @ clothing ...

Joy & Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine


(And don't say cliched, this is truly a favourite verse).

To distant shores, then, ma'am. And tisn't as if the winds of applause help you in any way. But here we are , faithfully applauding.

11:00 pm  
Anonymous Sri said...

I am glad I stumbled upon your blog:)


11:30 pm  
Blogger Apoplexy said...

As in you were in a friend's blogroll you are on mine.

1:59 am  
Blogger Lalita said...

Unfaized- Since I am not to call it cliched, there's nothing I can say. Winds of applause forsooth!

Sri- Thank you, and do keep visiting. :-)

Apoplexy- Ah, okay. Thank you.

9:59 am  
Blogger Sivaram said...

people come looking for Gilgamesh, and stay on to read all you write, THAT is the point.
Your blog is really more than a blog, it is a song of life in media res.
reminds me of james joyce somehow.

2:46 pm  
Blogger Lalita said...

Sivaram- Gulp. I am dumbstruck. I am touched. Um, I didn't mean it the other way, though that is a debatable thing these days. Thank you for warming the cockles of my heart. I really appreciate that in medias res, as Iliad is a current favourite, and Joyce definitely read his Homer. Bless you.

8:25 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sivaram sums your blog up well. Life is a predicament which precedes death, says Thoreau. You seem to be managing the predicament nicely. But before bemoaning lack of comments, consider this, Lali: your posts are consummate, (yes I read the latest post) and saying wow yet again gets tiresome. That is why you don't have readers gushing. They are as sophisticated as you.
Secret admirer

10:28 pm  
Blogger M S said...

Good One :-)

Sometimes it is not just that the readers not bothering to comment. But it's too difficult to post a comment that will do justice to a wonderful post.:-)

Open admirer.

2:45 pm  
Blogger Lalita said...

Anon- Hmph. That last sentence could have been written better if you'd said 'as you are' but I shall let that pass. Thanks for the insight. Get a name, already.

M S- What an absolute sweetiepie you are to say that. Thank you.

10:13 pm  

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