Right now, as I write this, I am sitting in our car, which is parked below G’s office, and I’m online! And blogging!!

And, no – not just from my phone either. Even cooler than that!

I’m blogging from my laptop, which is connected to the internet through my mobile phone GPRS connection!!

Am I cool, or what?!!

She’s sitting in bed, watching the nth rerun of Friends, as he walks in, saying: “Match laga do, please.”

She asks – “What channel does it come on?”

He answers – “Set Max.”

She switches to the channel with the cricket match. There are some Red and Blue uniformed people she sees.

“Who’s playing?”, she asks him.

He gives her a very amused look, almost laughs, and then nods a nod of understanding, ‘cos he knows her so well.

“Royal Challengers Bangalore and Deccan Chargers”, he says, turning back to the TV.

“Deccan Char…?”

“Hyderabad”, he says, before she finishes her question, knowing what she’d be asking.

They watch in silence. For 30 seconds.

“Why were you going to laugh?”, she asks.

“‘Cos, babe, it’s the finals!!”

…

What was funny, I ask?!

And, yes – that’s how much I don’t like, and don’t follow, cricket.

So, a friend tagged me on Facebook to google “my name+needs”…and here’s what I need…apparently:

Aanchal needs to give a lot of attention to Sid.

Aanchal needs to say Sidhartji less.

Aanchal needs to be fed some sense into her mind.

Aanchal needs to work on pronunciation.

…

And, what ‘d like to know is what Dipali, Parul, IHM and Unmana need. I’d also really like to know who the hell is Sid, and why I need some sense – I’m happy the way I am! And my pronunciation is also fine, thankyouverymuch!

…or even acknowledge, that my brother and I have – a generation gap!

So, S called me on Thursday to tell me that DJ Aqeel was playing at Elevate this Saturday, and would G and I want to go with him and his girlfriend. And the last time I danced to DJ Aqeel in the same club, I’d loved it! I’d loved(!!) the Bollywood Disco thing he has going. I’d worn black high heeled leather boots that time, which I’d bought because they’d looked really good and were so cheap they were a steal. They weren’t meant, though, to be danced in for 4 hours, and one of the heels had just come off while dancing. And I was having such a good time with Aqeel’s mixing that I’d sat on the floor in one corner of the club, and had pulled and tugged and broken the heel of the other boot too – just so I could carry on dancing in funny-looking flat boots. All in all, I remembered having a great time, and agreed to go with with S and his girlfriend, let’s call her R.

So, last night, all of us had dinner at home and got to Elevate around 11, bought passes and got in. There were a hundred odd people inside, all of whom were standing at the bar and around the dance floor, waiting for the local DJ to finish playing, and for Aqeel to start. One of the bartenders was busy telling everyone who asked that Aqeel was expected to start at 11:30. So we waited. And we waited. And waited some more. And, by “we” I mean G and me. S and R were the first ones on the floor, and a lot of other people had followed.

S kept coming up to me, bumping into me every time he brought his head close to shout in my ear to ask why the hell were both of us not on the floor – and I kept telling him that we were both waiting for Aqeel. And every time I would say that, I’d think WHY we were waiting for Aqeel to start for us to start having fun anyway. The local DJ was still playing at a quarter to one, every once in a while pausing to announce that DJ AQEEL IS IN THE HOUSE! And then I figured maybe this guy was supposed to warm up the crowd for Aqeel, and both of us thought – yeah, well, maybe we should get warmed up for Aqeel too. And so we got up on the floor, and I looked around and saw these young girls wearing incredibly high heels and these guys wearing incredibly shiny shirts – and then saw myself in my rolled up jeans, and a simple mauve top that shows quite a bit of cleavage but could still be considered classy, and my flat sequined jootis in an electric pink adding just a little “disco” to the outfit, and G in his smart black trousers and a gray shirt with bold maroon stripes, and I thought – well, isn’t this better? To be comfortable in pretty looking flat shoes which won’t make your feet ache the next morning, and to be wearing a good pair of jeans and letting go, than say, to be wearing a pretty looking short dress where you’ve to keep making sure it doesn’t bare what it isn’t meant to. And all the guys with shiny shirts and spiked hair and chunky beads around their neck – and the familiar looking man in his smart, sophisticated clothes dancing close to me, smiling at me. Both of us not caring about the “moves” and just letting go with the music. It took some time getting into the flow with the music, but after a few minutes of awkward body movements, I felt the old groove coming back – and both of us, well, rocked it! And it felt good to not care all that much about impressing strangers in the club with your cool moves and your stylish clothes, and it just felt nice to forget the crowd around us and just have a great time with each other.

Though both of us love an occasional let-your-hair-down, drink-yourself-silly, crazy party, we’d normally rather just have a drink, listen to good music, and sit around talking with friends or family, whether at home or in a pub.

So, yeah – back to last night.

It was probably two o’clock by the time we’d both had a couple of drinks each, and danced to the local DJ and to Aqeel – and we were pooped! Really and truly exhausted! Feet aching, thirsty and very hungry. I was ashamed that I was yawning too! Now a couple of years ago, this wouldn’t have stopped us – we’d have got something to drink and to eat and carried on, putting off caring about tired feet to the next morning. But last night, we just got ourselves some water, a drink more each, and went and sat on the staircase outside the club. And we had fun just sitting and talking and being out of the ear-pounding bass of the music inside the club, and waiting for S and his girlfriend to be ready to go home. Also, because there was no way we could have found them in the terribly packed club so we could maybe all go home.

And then we finally located them around 3 o’clock, begged them to come home, instead got convinced to dance to three more songs ourselves, and then finally left around 3:30.

I know this post sounds like I’m in my late-fifties, and not the late-twenties, but: a couple of years ago, I would’ve worn the short bare-all pretty dress and high heels, instead of the flat pretty-looking comfortable shoes and jeans; a couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have cared about the fact the my ears were numb and my feet and back were going to ache like crazy the next day, and would’ve carried on dancing till the wee hours of the morning; a couple of years ago, I would’ve jostled for space and danced in the few inches of space available on the dance floor, instead of thinking how many people’s sweat I was touching and how I needed to get home whenever and get into the shower; a couple of years ago I’d have thought that sitting on the staircase talking to my husband was the most boring thing one could do in a club.

Now, the feet and back ache is still something I don’t care all that much about still. And they could be aching also because my back’s in bad shape and I need to hit the gym again. But, all the other stuff – all of it matters a whole lot – and that is what leads me to admit that there IS a generation gap, and I am getting old(er)!

The problem here though is that I’ve never ever felt a generation gap with my parents who, though they are super-cool people, are still from another generation. My favourite dance partner is my Dad, and my favourite person to have a drink with and talk is my Mom. G’s the next favourite for both. My brother, though I love him to bits, is in a different place in life, and a place where I was not too long back, but a place where I can try to fit in but don’t think I can any more. And that makes me sad. And also happy at the place I am right now.

I love mornings on which you open your eyes to a darkened sky outside, and you can smell the fragrance of geeli mitti (wet earth), and all you want is a hot cup of masala chai.

My favourite recipe for chai, by the way, includes laung, saabut kaali mirch, daal chini, elaichi and adrak (cloves, black peppercorns, cinnamon, cardamom and ginger). And, ooh – does it taste GOOOD!

Couldn’t leave for office in time this morning because of the rain, so got an extra 40 minutes to sit in the balcony and have the aforementioned chai. The balcony outside our bedroom is covered with a sunshade, so all you get is a little sprinkle of the rain. It’s beautiful.

In other news, I was in Kerala for 8 days, got backand spent the next few days in office, and then ran off to Meerut with G for the weekend – for a much-awaited and much-postponed trip home. All of which was nice.

G’s off to London in 2 days. And I’m already missing him. In anticipation.

The weather’s lovely, and makes me happy. But the eye allergy I have makes me irritable and crabby. Strange mixed up mood today.

P.S.: Not to miss the Kerala houseboat in the header picture