I've been having the time of my life in Bombay, where I am meeting up with old friends and in general vagabonding all over the city. The highlight is meeting an old school friend, who was and still is a bestie. She's just gotten hitched and is in town for her receptions. (That's right, plural.)

No, I don't mean in the I-want-to-kill-someone-because-I-am-a-girl-and-I-have-to-suffer-through-this-no-fair kind of way.

When I was in 5th grade, all of nine years old, I had had enough with the mystery surrounding sex.

As all young girls are, I was thrilled by something so taboo in our society. All my knowledge was gained by whispered conversations at recess time, or hush-hush conversations on the telephone. Sleep-overs had only one motive - the latest smuggled erotic literature (Mills and Boon paperbacks).

But there was a lot of confusion because there was so much misinformation and half-knowledge that surrounded this most fascinating of topics. Things like logistics...

We all knew the male anatomy consisted of a stick-like appendage. However we were unclear as to where that appendage, um, went. In my young mind, I thought the corresponding aperture should be roughly in the same place. It wasn't. Hm.

Also, Hindi movies always picturize rape scenes with a dramatic removal of the sari palav*. Therefore I always assumed that a woman's breasts formed an integral part of the process. Again the logistics were baffling - did the man and woman lie in a sort of yin-yang position?

I finally reached the zenith of my curiosity and did what I did in any confusing crisis - I asked my mother.

Kudos to her, she didn't bat an eyelid and told me the truth. Unfortunately though, my mother is a very smart lady and therefore taught me all about the biology involved in sex: the X-chromosome, the Y-chromosome, the procreation part, etc. She also told me that the urges for sex were perfectly normal, as those were the ones that fuelled procreation. She also mentioned that the urges were the same as the ones people get when they need to use the bathroom, or are very hungry.

Mystique of sex? Destroyed for ever.

* A sari is an Indian garment which is draped around the lower body, culminating in a strip that crosses the front and hangs over one shoulder. The palav is the strip over the shoulder, usually covering the breast, and sometimes used to cover one's hair. Underneath the palav, a blouse is worn in a matching or complementary shade.

I found an old album in the recesses of my granddad's desk. In the album, I found a picture of myself smiling unreservedly at the camera. (A big deal for me, considering how nowadays my standard reaction to a camera is "I'll sue you, if you click.")

Anyway, I decided on using that picture as my logo for the series I was talking about earlier.

Those are my maternal grandparents. I probably won't use the whole picture, just the bit with me and the dog.

Today I re-discovered the Blogs of Note tab on the Blogger Dashboard. I never really check it, because evidently I'm self-absorbed enough to care only about the changes on my blogs.

(That's not actually true - I read blogs with an almost religious fervour. I only have to learn to overcome my overpowering timidity when commenting. Baby steps people, baby steps.)

And I am so glad I looked it up, because I found this blog. Please go and check it out NOW if you haven't already because it is really hilarious.

And because I know everyone is shamefully lazy when it comes to links and leaving the couch-like comfort of their readers, I'll tell you what it's about: a loving wife with a strong sense of the funny records her English husband's sleep talk. (I know that sounds wrong, but just. go. with. it.) It is HYSTERICAL.

But while I was laughing my guts out, which turned out to be quite a painful process, I was terrified at the same time.

Why?

Because I do a lot of stupid things in my sleep as well. Talking is very minor. I have been known to have entire conversations while fast asleep. I have been known to EAT in my sleep. I have also been known to terrify hapless roommates into a state of gibbering incoherency - IN MY SLEEP.

The good part? I cannot be held accountable for my unconscious shenanigans. The bad part? Hello? Did you not read the last bit?

Right, this was back in undergraduate college and I was sharing a room with a law college student. She was a few years younger than me, and behaved like a prima donna at all times. Suffice it to say, I barely tolerated her - and that was because I am a sunshine-y person.

*cough*

One night, I was dreaming of our little room. We were inside, awake and it was nighttime. There were a number of small furry beings outside like raccoons and black squirrels, among others. (Incidentally, there are no raccoons and black squirrels native to India that I know about.) They had congregated for reasons best known to them, when suddenly I saw that there were a few dead squirrels right outside her window. I was afraid the wildlife would come in through the window. So I thought I should warn her. So I go up to her and whisper in her ear. She nods at my warning, and quietly shuts the window. Everything is hunky-dory. We sleep.

In reality, I had the dream, went up to my sleeping roommate at 3:45 AM, shook her awake and told her something to that effect. And then I went back to my bed and resumed peaceful slumber.

I woke up the next morning at 6:00 and saw my roommate sitting rigidly up in bed, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest. She was as white as a sheet and plainly terrified out of her mind.

Apparently my 'warning' was: "Hey, there are dead bodies outside. Be careful."

Yikes.

The poor soul was so scared she couldn't sleep a wink, and sat staring outside her window till the sun rose and she could see that there were no dead bodies anywhere.

"Sorry" was decidedly inadequate.

I was reminiscing with my mother about the strange notions I had as a kid. We had a loud guffaw about the misconceptions I entertained about sex, and the hilarious conversations I had with equally uninformed classmates. So I decided to start a series (because that would save me the bother of coming up with a new title each time) called...

*drum roll*

When I was a Kid.

As I am still hunting for an image/logo, I designate Sunday as the day to receive ridiculous confidences about my noodle-brained innocent yesteryear self.

I just read my previous post. That's right AFTER posting it. I am neurotic enough to have my blog as one of the feeds in my RSS reader. I can be quite compulsive at times, and I needed to know the alignment works properly. Also, it is easier for me to re-read my posts and decide whether they are cringe-worthy in my reader, and pretend that I didn't write them.

I just read my previous post, and realised what a dismal decade I painted. It really wasn't that bad, although in some ways it was. I remember plenty of good stuff too. REALLY.

Also, that was my 200th post. I didn't realise that either until I logged into the Blogger Dashboard. I usually use Windows Live Writer, since my Internet connection has been less than cooperative recently.

200 posts is definitely a milestone, and I am still amazed that I have stuck it out. Yay me!

So yeah, that's all I really wanted to say. Expect a very similar post when I cross the 2-year mark in March/April/May this year. (Got to commemorate the milestones after all.)

I've seen quite a few posts like this recently, I thought it would be a fun way to shake the fidgets out of my fingers and as well as have a look at what has stayed with me.

Without further ado, I give you, the decade in review.. (I'm a poet and I didn't know it.) (What?! I couldn't resist.)

2000: I was in UK, still in my first year of A-levels at John Leggott College in Scunthorpe. I had just started to get used to living so far away from my parents, experienced my first real Christmas (I'm a Hindu) and was in love (really!) for the first time. I had incredibly long hair and was the most idiotic innocent fifteen-year old around. This year I also broke up with my boyfriend on Valentine's Day, and discovered I was unnecessarily dramatic at the same time.

2001: The first half of the year went by in much the same way as the previous year. I returned to Dubai for the summer holidays with an offer to join University of Kent in the fall. I fully expected to do that, and all my stuff was in storage in UK. (It still is, as a matter of fact.) With visa difficulties and financial constraints, I had to let go of the opportunity. Never mind, I thought, there is always next year.

2002: In February, my dog of 11 years just gave up eating, and a week later she died. I had had her since she was 10 days old, and a piece of me died that day as well. In the August of the same year, my mother's father passed away after a prolonged battle for health. We couldn't even go thanks to the difficulties we faced in Dubai. My mother was heartbroken and inconsolable. Putting aside all the grief I felt, I was there for her. Back in Mumbai, my aunt did the same for my grandmother. I applied again through UCAS, and got admission once more to university. Again, it wasn't possible for me to go.

2003: I got a job with ABN Amro Bank in Dubai, and for a while, things started looking up. Since I was working part-time, I got another full-time job as pre-opening staff in a supermarket too. After working thirteen and a half hours everyday, I could sleep with some modicum of relief that I was doing something to alleviate the troubles we were facing then. In April, things came to a head, and we gave up and moved back to India. I met my aunt and grandmother after years, and lost my heart to the silly cocker spaniel on sight. Barely a month after we returned, I joined Symbiosis for the BCA program. I was very thankful to be there, but I wasn't used to the Indian way of life.It took me the next five years to be able to deal with it.

2004: I found myself in a relationship, after I realised that my perception of people was fundamentally flawed. In Dubai, I led a cloistered life. In UK, people were so self-involved, they weren't interested in other people. Till I moved to India, I had never encountered people spreading vicious lies just to create mischief. I was thoroughly unequipped to handle it, and of course I handled it badly. I finally turned 20 though, and I was thrilled to cross the threshold into adulthood.

2005: Another uneventful year passes by, with french classes, dance classes and college life thrumming to the maximum. I had given up trying to make nice with anyone, and I developed the veneer of bitchiness that everyone had accused me of before. I finally started enjoying being in college, because by now no one else's opinion mattered a tiny jot. I was an island, and I was happy.

2006: I finally broke free from Symbiosis and it's associated miasma of negativity. I applied to one college, and got in to complete an MS in advanced information technology. By now of course I had learnt to keep my distance, and I kept my own counsel most of the time. I encountered a number of strange people, but on the whole I had fun.

2007: College work intensified, and I spent a lot of time pandering uselessly to the needs of my boyfriend from Symbiosis. I picked a major in Grid Computing, thinking it was the technology of the future. However, by the time I was proved right, I lost interest in pursuing it. My grandmother fell seriously ill this year, and quite a bit of energy went in worrying about what to do.

2008: After extending, and finally completing my project, I left college life behind, vowing never to subject myself to the trauma of Indian colleges again. I moved into a place of my own, and for the first time, I lived by myself entirely. I loved it. I learnt how to cook and became fairly good. I worked for a while as a Producer in a media company, and although I loved every second, I couldn't continue because my family needed me. My aunt moved from Pune to Ooty, and we went along to help. Within three days of settling in, my grandmother passed away. The drive back to Akkalkot (our village) took 24 hours and was accomplished with her body in a coffin next to us. My father got a job in Goa, and my mother moved with him.

2009: My aunt took a bad turn in Ooty, and I went to fetch her back. She moved to Goa, and a few months later, I packed up my stuff and followed. Perhaps the happiest year in the decade, 2009 was one for family. In September, I started travelling a great deal, encountering many relatives for the first time. A number of them passed away, some due to ill-health and others very unexpectedly. The year was about to end on a bad note, but at the last moment things were better.

Looking back, I realise a lot of the bad has stayed back, but I don't think of these as difficult years. There was a lot of fun too, but it wasn't as concentrated as the these impressions.

I certainly hope the next decade is better.

I have nightmares about high school. However, unlike the usual ones of showing up naked in the school corridor, I dream of far worse stuff. Like DYING. And I think of my school as some sort of apocalyptic hell where the teachers were dull red in colour, with tridents and pointy horns sticking out of perfectly coiffed white hair.

At other times though, I vaguely remember the ridiculous teasing I put up with from time to time. There was the usual "ooh, that boy likes you!" or the kissing-in-a-tree gag. I was a prime target for teasing because I turn a fiery red when I'm embarrassed. (Unfortunately I haven't lost that particular childhood handicap.) Also, in retrospect I did attract a lot of male attention. Mainly because I was an oddity to look at: chubby, braces, long LONG hair which was always in a mess and well spectacles. The braces were in place to correct the most Bugs Bunny-like buck teeth I have ever seen. Surprisingly, I also got a number of positive male attention, but I never figured that one out.

Anyway, during my years at school, Hindi movies were a staple of the overall entertainment diet. There were numerous games based around the songs in the movies too. Everything was all hunky dory, and then Suhaag was released.

Suhaag, literally means 'husband', however the context is a little more complex than that. It was considered to be a blight on a woman if her husband was to predecease her. Therefore a lady whose husband is still intact on the earthly plane was an auspicious being. Suhaag was the title given to the man who had the good sense to stay alive till his wife kicked the bucket.

(Can you tell I find this whole charade disgusting? No? Ok.)

The movie Suhaag was idiotic, with organ-trading villainous doctors and stiff starchy mother figures in pure white saris; heroes with the playboy-good guy dynamic, and their respective love interests. The storyline was peppered with dramatic dialogues and searing monologues which held us spellbound in wonder then, and had me cracking up in helpless laughter last night.

And then I remembered why I wished Suhaag had never happened:

Gore, gore mukhde pe kala kala chashma (r)
Tauba Khuda khair karein,
Khub hain Karishma
Khub hain Karishma
Gore gore mukhde pe kala kala chashma

I endured this song for a YEAR. Everyday, EVERY SINGLE DAY, I walked into the bus only to be serenaded to the strains of 'Khub hai Karishma.."* It was AWFUL.

Back to the nightmare, I dreamt that my wedding was in progress, and someone strikes up this song on the music system.

Oh. the. HORROR.

* For non-Hindi speakers, the first paragraph roughly translates into this:

Black, black glasses on a fair, fair face, (r)
Dear God, take note,
what a beautiful miracle,
what a beautiful miracle,
Black, black glasses on a fair, fair face.

My first name translates to 'miracle' while my surname translates to 'beautiful'. Thankfully 'Sundaram' cannot be used in this context. It is used to extol deities in devotional songs.

PS: The song sounds only half as ridiculous in Hindi.

This is where blogs become a creepy way on keeping tabs on someone's life. I mean seriously, look at this:

At least TELL me who you are!