A late new year message and a list of confessions that remind me of things gone by

Yes, it's been a while. Intermission of the worst sort I guess but still. I thought since New Year's right around the corner I can write a detailed analysis of my life in 2008. Since an awesome list was found here, I decided to go ahead.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you'd never done before?
- Interviewed a lot of A-list celebrities like Arjun Rampal, Shilpa Shetty and Minissha Lamba. Learnt to cook excellent Andhra Chicken Fry. Became a beauty and entertainment writer. Went abroad on my own.

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I never keep my resolutions. But this time, I made some feasible ones, so let's see.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Yes, Rems, Divya and Neyda.

4. Did anyone close to you die? My grandmother. Paternal.

5. What countries did you visit? Singapore. Does visiting Asia even count?

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
More resolve to keep my promises, lose weight, start my own thing and have more determination. And mostly travel more and keep in touch with all my close friends.

7. What date from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
November 10th. My beautiful sister just got married.


8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Being an awesome cook. Investing my money wisely. And being the Entertainment Editor of a famous Fashion Magazine.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Money. I didn't assert myself enough for a good paycheck.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Not really. If you count irregular periods.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A sweet striped candy type-ish swimsuit

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Obama, obviously.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Terrorists...assholes

14. Where did most of your money go?
Maintaining a life in the busy old Mumbai. But in other words, rent.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Catching a glimpse of Shah Rukh Khan on the corridors of Yash Raj. And grinning from ear to ear and being so quiet and ecstatic at the same time. And widening my eyes so much that maybe they must have looked like a burst of bright light on him.


16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Suddenly I see by K T Tunstall

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? happiest-test-test
ii. thinner or fatter? I'm getting better all the time! Fatter really.
iii. richer or poorer? poorer

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Travel. And meeting family. It seems odd that I cling onto my boss every time I want to see my family. I have to please her and make sure she doesn't grudge me if I might 'visit' my family.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Taking family for granted.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?
With my husband, alone. With fairy lights, christmas tree, a victorian corsage and a bottle of Sula Chenin Blanc.

22. Did you fall in love in 2008?
I fell in love in 2007. I fell into a lifetime obsession, circa 2008.

23. How many one-night stands?
None, surprisingly.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
Project Runway.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Pakistan.

26. What was the best book you read?
Pour your heart into it - The Starbucks story.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Motherjane. The indian-metal take of their new album Maktub was simply mind-blowing.

28. What did you want and get?
I wanted the iPod shuffle and I got it. A guess retro bag :)and my first Chanel.

29. What did you want and not get?
A wallet. I have been on the search for a super-cool elusive wallet.

30. What were your favorite films of this year?
Blood Diamond, Thank You for Not Smoking and The Holiday.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I stayed at home and was mighty peeved because of the rain. I was 26.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
More money. Really, I need more money for my daily living.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
The shape of things to come. I traded my casual attire for formal chic outfits. Clean cuts, minimum fuss and architecture in my wardrobe.

34. What kept you sane?
My man. Solid, bankable, sexy and he hasn't changed in two years. He still calls me back every time he misses my calls in matter of 0.3 seconds and regularly buys me flowers.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Obama. I was obsessed.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Terrorism. The stupid things people do in terms of religion is plain sick. Why kill innocent civilians - take a few corrupt politicians instead.

37. Who did you miss? My friends. All of them.
38. Who was the best new person you met? A blind girl in the train. She had the best smile in the world and she was about to walk into something. And when I caught her and changed her direction, she smiled again and held my hand and it felt so warm.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
Never simply rely on all your best buds to be there for you all the time. It's best to be in touch with those who really want to listen to your voice and everything you got to say and stay mature.

40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
But you know that when the truth is told,
That you can get what you want or you can just get old
Your gonna kick off before you even get half way through
When will you realize, Vennia waits for you
Billy Joel Vienna

And to end this year with this would be a shame. So I'll leave you with my newest New Year resolution. To make my life better by indulging in newer desi gner, better shapes and manicures and pedicures. And let the latest spring-summer Louis Vuitton gold wedges add that little sheen to your life.

God Bless

Careers are the new relationships

At 18, I was 39 kgs, wore a short skirt with aplomb, wasted most of my life at Coffee Pubs and discos and constantly whined about a relationship I want or a relationship I had. Eight years later, I am 52 kgs, looking borderline fat ( nah, just kidding! Am kinda plump but not in kgs but in looks, you see I am one of those whose face can be cut off in cameras, 5 ‘1 with any weight can look fat) and in a deep relationship with my career, so much so that I spend hours thinking “Where am I heading from here?” Imaginary conversations follow and my own personal devils advocate in the name of my conscience speaks out and confuses me even more. It helps to have good colleagues, friends who listen to your work rants on an ISD call and a husband who hugs you and tells you “it’s all cool”. But what is this new career dilemma?

Brief flashback here. I was a literature student. All into the arts, Shakespeare, feminism and long dialogues in poetry. And then, it was my dream to someday write a book, teach Shakespeare to a bunch of teens who would listen in rapture and to travel across the oceans volunteering to teach and do my higher learning. Stop before you go further though, because the dreams never happened. The Gemini who wanted to be everything stepped in. And I took off to Journalism College. A few weeks there and I was already telling myself that I would be a TV Journalist who bravely reported on the BJP’s non-secularism and an occasional celebrity story or a Fashion Week forecast. Correct…you get the hang pretty fast, those things didn’t happen either. It was a whirlwind; soon I wanted to be an advertising professional, a dancer at an awards show, a Radio Jockey and an item girl – all in a day. After college, it was a newspaper (I couldn’t deal with reporting on the South Indian Railway Show), PR (Couldn’t really follow up with Mid Day on the Ranbaxy coverage), Client Servicing (Had enough of kissing the creative guys asses just to make them do their ‘own job’ if you please) Event Management (discussing where to put the standee and what to write on an IBM in-house card) while finally floating to Lifestyle Journalism. And my ship anchored here for now. I had always run away from Fashion magazines thinking to myself that it’s not serious ‘work’ and here I am, enjoying it, reveling in it and making it my big career. Caveat: Through boarding school, college and my masters, I had one big identity. I was always known as the girl to whose room you’ll venture into if you’re looking for a fashion magazine. And now that magazine freak just made it home.

Just before you say ‘aww’ and I pretend to ride into the sunset, let me just say this. Careers are like marriages, no matter where you are, no matter how good the going is, you’ll always be wondering if you’ve made the right choice. And with each jolt you get, you get scared and wonder if this is forever. And that happened last month. I got a jolt of realism, a jolt of ‘is this where I want to be?’ And for the first time in my life, I was doubtful and hopeful. Doubtful because you cannot get away from something because it’s not working out with your boss, and hopeful because you kick ass at your work and why should anyone challenge that.

And ladies and gentleman, I love my job, I give it a 100 on a 100. And it’s changed me as a person, made me discover new things. It gave me a mind of my own, an opinion that counts (I used to be someone who really didn’t have one, like ever), confidence that I’ll never let myself down and great taste in fashion. And though the job is awesome, one has now come to realize that bosses, colleagues, payments, office atmosphere, distances – all go in making it work.

Sometimes it's easier to quit and say, it's not working. It's difficult to stop, pause and take a moment to understand how the biggest relationship in your life works. And how one needs to nurture it, deal with the day to day-ness of it all with patience to take it up a notch higher. And I've decided to give it six months and keep trying.

Maybe, building a career shouldn’t be such hard work.

Today's fare: Nothing is permanent in life, not in the least your job. But what you can REALLY own is a career, and these Christian Louboutin Forever Tina boots. Purple is the colour to flaunt this fall, and so are fringes.

To be happy or not be, That is the mood of the moment

Carrie Bradshaw: What makes you think something bad is gonna happen?
Charlotte York: Because! Nobody gets everything they want! Look at you, look at Miranda. You're good people and you two both got shafted. I'm so happy and... something bad is going to happen.

This was exactly what I was thinking last week. The fact that I had a harrowing ‘office’ bully chase my wits out, the fact that my work hours got longer and my alone time shorter, the fact that a wedding in the family is making me mad with the arrangements and the clothes, the fact that I’m getting a little plumper by the day, the fact that a certain friend has suddenly got busier, more distant and more judgmental, the fact that me in my new found lovable job hadn’t made any new friends in the city…..( heave heave…sigh)

All that vanished last week with just a whiff of Igatpuri and Nashik. A quiet weekend that threatened to take away all kinds of nonsense that filled my head, suddenly had that awkward ring to it. The tension that all this happiness will be taken away. For Good. Maybe it was me in my moods, or the fact that I see disappointment in relationships all around, and the fact that love isn’t what it was before – a commitment that’s forever. I’m not denying the trip made me loosen up, hug tighter and face the world again. This time armed with positivity and courage. But what I’m bothered about is the one thought that lingers.

It’s hard for a girl these days. It’s hard to look around and not see the kind of beauty in love and life that you always wanted to hold tight when you were 18. The fact that there are fewer friends you know who have a great relationship you admire. And sometimes, it’s even harder when you’re so happy and you have someone who has faults nonetheless but who is not really giving you grief for over a year now. You’re more of an outcast than anything else in the realistic world if you’re happy. And you’re always on your guard, waiting for that moment when everything will fall apart like a pack of cards. And you’re always thinking….What if your destiny changed?

And that moment has arrived. I suddenly woke up this morning and I felt doubtlessly content. With the sun on my eyes and the doorbell ringing from my maid, it’s hard to not see the unmistakable ring to life. I realised that I could just embrace what I have or live in fear. And I chose to ignore my surroundings and the awkward thought and move on. And some random television program on Travel & Living echoed my thoughts.

“I don’t believe in destiny because then it would mean that my life’s already decided. I believe in working hard to get what I want in life,”

Amen.


Things I learnt this week

That weekend trips make life more livable. They strip your body off all the grime of a career and put you back on stand.

That I got to make time to meet people in the city. With a hectic job, a travel time that’s no less than a million light years, the loneliness you feel while commuting and no inkling of time to meet anyone – I’m waiting to grow beyond that. It’s not only important to have the close friends but it’s also important to have close friends in the city. To pick you up on a dull day and sit over a nice cuppa.

That nothing is permanent. Even the office bully has to say tata-byebye one day. And the amount of happiness that gushes into your heart can make you feel that you’re on LSD.

That Jerry Mcguire was right. If the heart is empty, the brain is too. And there’s nothing called professional and personal – they’re just two words that mean the same.

That there’s always something to learn from a shoe. That the new Jimmy Choo Gladiator Glennys aren’t for the fraid cat. They’re tight, fit and ready to face the day. Just like I need that faith that I can make it on the darkest days.

A letter to a creative-snob

Dear Holier-than-thou meets pseudo-intellect,
Yes, you might be a big brand in yourself, both for your writing skills, your creativity, your cartooning as well as design, but you really seem to lack basic etiquette. You are a big shot who is known in all media circles for your pseudo-intellectual banter and your mentor-like attitude, but it’s a shame, a damn shame to see you flounder like this. Especially if your intellect hasn’t taught you good manners. And real judgment. And most of all, to be humble and live and let live. You know it takes very little to understand that creativity abounds in plenty and it only cannot be restricted to news journalism, advertising or film making. It abounds in fashion too, and in writing about day-to-day issues.
What happens to you when you see a fashion magazine? Does it feel like you’re about to be enveloped by sheer claustrophobia? Is it the fashion that’s making you squirm or the idea that people can be well-dressed and well-read? Does it make you angry that I have the gall to write about the perils of bad relationships when ‘you’ personally don’t believe in relationships of any sort? Is it the lip balm darling, does it make you feel like you’re an alien in this beautiful world and thus make you want to write bad mails to an online discussion discussing my writing skills? What is it, my love – what makes you think that saving the world is the only respite and choice left for journalists?
I am a journalist, but I’m not one of the newsy ones. I’m not going to tell you what happened in the Singur Case or what the UPA Agenda is, but what instead is the part of my story is just to tell you where to get a kickass manicure or for that matter, which counseling centre you can go to if you’re suffering from acute depression? My god, is that really no needed in our world? Do you think that just because I don’t do newsey world changing articles, my opinions on such things like ‘life’ and ‘relationships’ are unnecessary? Oh, you mean life is not worth living if we all don’t go out and change the world. I get it. But unlike me, I’m thinking you’re already in Darfur tending to the woes of Africa while checking your mail on wi-fi and replying to me.
I know I’ve encountered this before, but I’m just saying it again. I am a features writer, I write features on small things, like dating, marriage, relationships, careers and more. And hey, I know you define my personality and my intellect with the lipstick number on my Chanel. But then, cut the crap on your holier than thou philosophy on topics that you don’t know anything about? If the topic I put on a public forum doesn’t suit your taste and you don’t believe in it, just shut the fuck up. Instead you choose to give me gyan on how I should live my life and what ‘meaningful’ is to me. Guess what? A meaningful life is defined by a positive attitude that comes out of doing something you love. It could be the smallest thing, it could be helping someone buy a perfume, or make a trip to see if a friend going through heartbreak isn’t wallowing in self pity. But well, for you, the idea of meaningful is judging others on the kind of work they do and giving pseudo intellectual speeches on what meaningful journalism is.
I have one word, nay finger for you. I promise you it’s well-intended and meaningful.

Cheers,
The girl from the fashion magazine

The scenario: I put up a mail on a reputed online forum on help over a relationship story and a big media honcho goes out of his way to tell me I’m useless and should be doing something more worthwhile with my life. In turn, he makes a cartoon strip about my magazine and me, and forwards it to all and sundry. The time some people have to put other people down I tell you.

Today’s fare: My vicious mail can only be complimented by these new shiny Alexander McQueen Python Peep-toe Pumps. Just look at the texture, the feel and the image and no one does it better than McQueen.

To Control or Not to Control

It’s tough to be in control. More than anything else, it’s tougher to not to control someone. While anti-conversionists in Orissa re-convert tribals back to Hinduism forcefully and pro-lifers still try to control the decision a young mother must make, controlling someone else’s life is easier than staying in control. But if there’s one control ban that almost everyone clapped for, it’s the new smoking law. While friends and newspapers are peppered with discussions on the new smoking law, here I am contemplating whether I must support it or not. The kind of person I am I hardly tell people what to do. There are certain rights and wrongs in my head for me exclusively depending on my upbringing, values and likes, but to tell someone not to be alien to me. My close friends yes, I tell them shamelessly because it’s MY friends. But others, well live and let live. But for the first time Ramadoss hit it jackpot say smokers as well as anti-smokers. With this new law that bans smoking in public places, it’s easier to quit it says a close friend. Others we know at work actually walk all the way to the street and the two-pack dwindles down to a mere one pack out of sheer laziness. Staircases are no more pilgrimages of cigarette philosophies and all you see now is empty pathways and cleaner air for all the others who don’t smoke. The one thing I have against smoking is the fact that it’s not really live and let live. You smoking is not only harmful to you but to the other person right next to you, so it makes sense I guess. I myself have done it, one due to peer pressure plus boyfriend influence and two, because it calmed me down and made me feel stylish and chic. Yes, I admit I was all about the show at one point but it never stayed with me. I tried and failed numerous times till I gave up, and now boy, am I thankful. Everyday I see one person around me cribbing about how they cannot quit. And while some others I know crib about this ban, I say smoke darling, in your home and let everyone around you live. A colleague from work has done some research, says that smoking kills more people a year than drinking. She has tried quitting but hasn’t quite succeeded. And research also says that a daily average of five cigarettes will reduce 14.5 years of one’s life. And while a junior smoker complains about the ban, she firmly reiterates that junior is new to smoking and soon, after she’s seasoned, she’ll be dying to quit and by then it’s too late. I’ve heard more smokers give this gyan than any lay person. Yes, not all who smoke have cancer and not all who die of cancer smoked. But what’s important is that – we tried to reduce a big cause. Smoking they say increases anxiety, depression, risks of cataract, premature wrinkling and ageing and smoking even one or two a day can cause cancer of the throat, bladder, lung etc. And tobacco they say is the leading cause of preventable death responsible for 5.4 million deaths every year according to the WHO. And I am advocating it shamelessly to everyone who asks my opinion instead of saying “Can’t really say” and being overtly diplomatic. And what more can I say? This time, control is what makes life easier and the air a tad breathable.

Today’s fare: Nothing says being in control than these red knee high boots from Victoria's Secret. There’s always something about boots and red ones at that.

Real Estates vs Man-Woman Dynamics

There are problems everywhere. Orissa’s on fire, Mujahiddeen on the run, Shobha De extracting non-violence out of Raj Thackerey and the smoking in public places banned. And there was my huge mammoth. The big elephant in my life right now. The Real Estate. In Mumbai, while rents are shockingly high, a small one bedroom flat probably costs you a mini village, there are other costs that determine you hate the real estate forever. Especially to a person like me, who has lived in Hyderabad, Chennai, Delhi and Bangalore collectively. Once you pay the rent and your broker’s dues, you think you’ve gotten your dream house and you’ll live there happily ever after – na na! That’s if you’re only in the other cities I’ve lived in except in good old Mumbai. Here, brokers spill your bloody and your money to the last drop, get you a flat at the highest rent, take a huge brokerage, and then after a year and every year after that when you renew your papers, you’re to pay them the new rent’s brokerage. Which means you’ll keep paying brokerage every year with the increase in your rent. And that too a good two months rent into the broker’s outstretched arms every time the owner increases your rent. See, that’s the weirdest thing I have ever heard. As I see it. He’s clearly sitting on his ass and earning money every year, a huge one at that, just because he helped you find a house in Andheri West in 1995. Other cities never have it, and why only Mumbai? I’d rather the broker comes home, irons my husband’s shirts and take two months rent from my hands. At least, the bloody shirts are ironed. What’s surprising is that, everyone from top notch authors to journalists watch this tirade without batting an eyelid saying that “this is how it works!” Am I the only one feeling unfair? Which brings me firmly back to this theory that I am alone dealing with this unfair bit while my husband has accepted it and is really wondering why I can’t take like it is. For me, it’s my hard earned money, I’m fine with paying huge rents living it a city like Mumbai, but paying brokerage every year? Having a resident ghost hanging out at home every year? While all this was happening. I noticed something else. Some psychological goof up! A theory on how men and women are wired. While I rave and rant about financial situations, my husband, tongue firmly in cheek, tells me “Is there anything we can do? Every one pays these guys,” and gets back to checking mail. So if I can’t so anything, I can’t rant about it. Then begins the saga of dealing with male-female things. Why is it that I always feel the need to talk about things and discuss it while my husband feels that we need not discuss it that much when we can’t do anything about it. Though to give him credit, I know he’s honestly supportive, hugs me and tells me that everythings gonna be ok. But still, why is it that I need to rant and I need him to rant with me? Or do I just want validation to the drama without the solution? Maybe I need him to sympathise with me, or go on listening to me without telling me to suck it up. Whatever it is, I need that gossipy session and an all-cry-nighter with people who understand this need. Wierd? I can't care less. Is that why I miss my girlfriends?

Today’s fare: The new sandals with circular type things on them from Victor & Rolf are the least bit enticing. Weird again!

In which I play placid with vicious bitches

Being bitchy is an art. It’s not subtle, dramatic, versatile and attention-seeking and more over, insecurity at its best. The need to validate one through vile remarks that cross all aesthetic barriers is almost appalling. But it’s an art which almost all work stations practice.

And as you saunter around, you notice that almost every branch in any office has its regulars. Those who don’t calmly sip their beer but bring out their inner insecurities on others around them with a wicked smile, everyone’s idiosyncrasies wrapped tightly in the guise of a funny joke, a warm congratulatory statement laced with nail-biting sarcasm and a cheap thrill on mail telling everyone that the holiday that was promised or the bonus that was offered, wasn’t really happening because you all haven’t met the expectations of the job. And oh, how can we forget the numerous mails on office timings that are succulent-ly layered with rudeness, exceptional big words guaranteed to confuse you and huge ego issues busted into pieces in bold all over their Times New Roman.

In my opinion, there are two kinds of bitchy babes. Ones that are almost admirable, like Miranda Priestly who knows her job inside out, who doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and is always out to get the better of you, unless you beat her at her game, get more perfect with each passing day and become the best there ever was. And there are the other kinds, definitely the more crass ones that are a human obligation to most companies. So much so that the company pays for a disclaimer to the other employees to reiterate the lost self-esteem. These kinds are smart, strapping, fake and extremely unpopular. Well, they could have been malaria for all I care by the way they’re avoided. Most of them are women, in high paying bossy jobs, trying to always be in control, checking up on everyone’s personal space, lonely and stay alone in a one bedroom flat in Goregaon.

It’s almost a pattern. The insecurity. They’ll be the first ones who are overjoyed that the office trip to Manali got cancelled and we all have to get our asses to work on Ganesh Chathurdi. They are the ones who squeal with delight when a promotion got canceled or a loved one of the peon just fell ill and he had to take leave. Me thinks they are overpaid because most companies also invest in a cynic to keep optimism at bay. You see, too much optimism can break companies. And the resident cynic is the first to kill happiness, joy and any remains of a holiday.

But today, the way I saw it, I left no room for smart alec comments or discussions, my defense mechanism lies in my silence and I promised myself that I will let the bitch pass under my fingers. I will make sure she realizes that I am not interested in wasting my time on the joys of ‘discipline’ or the ‘ethics’ of work. The way I look at things, I have more ethics and discipline enough not to write rude mails to co-workers. So there. I’ve decided to do my job and ignore the bitches. So it’s silence in my head, heart and mind and the only arsenal is a pair of pink Draculette pumps. Hallelujah!

Today’s fare: Christian Louboutin’s Rose Suded ‘Draculette’ Pumps from the new collection guaranteed to hit all hot spots during Halloween.

Internal Collaborations- Make the most of you

“Great cities attract ambitious people. You can sense it when you walk around one. In a hundred subtle ways, the city sends you a message: you could do more; you should try harder. The surprising thing is how different these messages can be. New York tells you, above all: you should make more money. There are other messages too, of course. You should be hipper. You should be better looking. But the clearest message is that you should be richer. ... When you ask what message a city sends, you sometimes get surprising answers" – Paul Graham

If Mumbai was just about traffic, I would have left it a long time ago. If was it was just about sky-rises and high rents, I would have simply passed it by. But it isn’t. It’s a one-way pass to getting exactly where you want to be. If you’re a struggling writer, a failed screenplay, a money laundering real estate agent or even an geeky MBA graduate, Mumbai gives you just that much leeway for you to grow and maybe leave a trail of success.

One in two people are successful in Mumbai depending on what success means to each one of you. And maybe that’s its credo. Getting you where you want to eventually be, giving you endless perks and amazing futures, and making you more than just a passing 15 minutes of fame. A good friend once told me that Mumbai is one city where you get what you deserve, when you work hard. And when it comes to money, the kind of jumps it gives you is immeasurable with any other city. Though I cannot really vouch for the money bit as I have not gotten there yet. But yes, opportunities are many. And so is the famous feeling , “Impossible is Nothing”. You can be anything you want to be in this city. The power that comes from that feeling is just too super human to be ignored. And the fact that you can be anything you choose to be. A sportsperson with the garb of an actress or an MBA graduate with a degree in bartending. Just like a sports shoe with a purple shiny exterior and a heel to kick it off. Oh, the glories of unlimited potential.

My very first encounter with the city happened in 2004. Till now that was the boldest step I took. My friend, Shreya and me thought Mumbai is a big place and on a whim, came here. Our folks were flabbergasted, and warned us about the big bad dirty world out there waiting to grab us and punch us in the gut if ever make it there. But providence played it into our hands, and we started out as interns in prestigious organizations, only to realize that every working environment is not complete without the usual assholes. That aside, we ate pani puri on the roads, stayed in a strict catholic hostel in bandra and made friends with really cool people. But then while my peasent genes begged me to return to south india and not live in queues my entire life, Shreya made it really big there. She was a hot shot producer of a television channel and she ruled the roost for a while.

Circa 2008 I’m here with a husband and a kickass job in tow. And the only thing that keeps me going is the feeling that one day, I’ll be successful. My definition of successful is to gather as much work experience with my magazine and set sail to live in a hill station with two dogs for company and a husband to warm up to in the wee hours of the night and just write. Keep writing. So for me, Mumbai is an aside, a path to my true success and a middleman who can bring my potential to the very best. Amen.

Today’s fare: Sergio Rossi teams up with Puma on a capsule footwear collection.Puma's legendary 'Clyde' sneaker has a modern twist. Who would have thought sneaker-heels are the big thing now.

Maya from the movie Sideways: You know, the day you open a '61 Cheval Blanc... that's the special occasion.

It's new, shiny and diva-like. That's what makes me want it with all the heart and soul a 26-year old fashion-obsessed girl could muster. But once I get it, I know that I will hide under piles and piles of cardboard boxes, newspapers and the exhaustive corners in the house. Only to be forgotten, to be ignored until a day dawns when I scrupulously start rummaging the entire house for a safety pin and amidst all the old notebooks and Christmas streamers, I'll find it. Snuggled under unnecessary things only to be recaptured and displayed in the living room for voyeurs and fashionistas alike.

Life's a lot like that in Mumbai. There are beautiful things, beautiful people and numerous ways to spend 10 minutes, and there we are snowed under forgotten promises, invented excuses and exhausted lives. There are moments of madness, sheer red-carpet-ness and then, poof it’s all gone. And in its place is murky darkness, an aftermath of a train journey, a simple gesture of always looking over your shoulder, and passing by life without an inkling of what you might be missing out on.

The essentials are definitely in place though. The heady feeling a morning kiss gives, a walk in the park at 6:30 a.m, bathroom jokes while my husband’s on his daily shaving ritual, drinking green tea while listening to a new rock band my taller half has discovered, walking out of the lift dressed in patent leather pumps and a wicked smile that can only spell – n-e-w-p-o-l-k-a-d-o-t-t-e-d-b-r-a, an intimate brush of hand in the sunlight while saying goodbye at the station, the huge-ness of my smile when I get a new beauty product to review and the warm hand placing my palms on his chest and snuggling into me at 2. a.m on most days.

But the human-ness in me is still clichéd. I still ponder about how the train was jam-packed at 3 in the evening, how late the bus took to get me home, the continuous sneezing of a co-passenger, the endless PR calls telling me to cover water pumps and review bisleri bottles. And to top it all off, I run to work in designer pants only to come back greased in sweat with a terrible knot in my hair that can get the best-task tag in Roadies 5. And I wail, I swear, I warn my husband am out of here and simply scream my lungs out at the nearest auto-wallah.

And today, when the bell rang at 9 in the night, I got up from my usual TV Marathon, opened the door, lifting my legs up as much as I can just to involuntarily kiss and march off to the kitchen to update him on my usual antics and to complain about the electricity, plumber and the insensitive aunty on Borivali Fast, and my eyes wander to an outstretched arm filled with a bunch of roses. And I smile and so does he. I say wow and start the ranting again. The expression he had brings me back to reality, a dreamy one to be precise. Since when did I start ignoring nice gestures that give out lovely messages? Since when did the daily grind overtake pure moments of admiration and love? When this is all you waited for, all your life, why does it become an aside when you really get it? It’s the dainty new shoe again. The diamante firmly in place, waiting to be worn everyday, waiting to be worn on dancing feet – and here I am packing it up in as sublime a manner and putting it right back on the shelf with an involuntary smile. And as I make my own rules about how I want a regular day and a special day to be, I wonder when I have become so regulation-oriented? Why do I miss out on the beauty of a regular day just because it’s not a Sunday?

It is then that I remind myself that it’s the small and thoughtful things that make music on any day. In the hectic life that is Mumbai, thank god I haven’t missed out on good intentions packed in deeply with flowers on a tiring Thursday. And as I ruffle his hair and laugh hysterically, I realize I ought to be less negative about things around me. I mistook idealism. It’s not smooth running of trains, non-crowded bus stops and PR girls who don’t nag you till you put the new pill from Ranbaxy in the next issue of Fashion Mag, it’s you being happy with the beautiful things around you. And in the busy schedules packed with many a punch, I see that we’re still celebrating a random day in Mumbai.

Today’s shoe: Manolo Blahnik Something Blue Satin Pumps with diamante detail from the movie Sex and the City.