Freaking Murphy’s Law!

This is for you, Indu!

So here’s what was supposed to happen on one important, nice, cloudy, Friday:

  1. My alarm goes off at 5:50. I would press snooze and the alarm would ring again at 6:00. By that time, I would be up.
  2. Switch on the heater until I finish brushing my teeth and pooping.
  3. After bathing, make breakfats: usually consisting of an egg, toast and coffee.
  4. Lock the door of my flat and head over to the bus stop at around 7:30, and it would take me about 45 minutes to get to  the place where I was going to have an interview for a better job.
  5. Ace the interview and have lunch with a few friends.
  6. Get back home and eat leftovers for dinner and snuggle up on the sofa with a cute Pixar movie on the TV.

Things went wrong even before I woke up. I open my eyes and look at the time on my wall clock and it’s 6:30. I look at my alarm clock and it has stopped just after midnight. I hurry around the house and quickly finish my bathroom work. I debate taking a bath: I take a lot of time. But I end up bathing anyway. After, I look for some blue clothes. I mean, I’m going to an interview, right? The first thing that was drilled in our heads in MBA classes was that blue makes the best first impression. All I could find were some old pyjama bottoms, tracks and a tank top, none of which I could wear. I wear an orange kurti and a pale yellow Punjabi bottoms.  No dupatta. I couldn’t find one.

For breakfast, I open my fridge and grab an egg and I see that I have no bread. I find a lump of chapathi dough, which could make a nice chapathi for me. I take it out, keep the pan on the stove, switch on the stove and light it a few times. It did not light up. Now I have to change gas cylinders.

Once that’s done, I quickly roll out one chapathi and put it on the pan. While that was cooking, I run to my room to put on some make-up. My kajal stick is at its end. I apply brown kajal and tie my hair into a pony and go to the chapathi, which had burnt. I flip it over and let it fry a bit and then break an egg on the pan. I sprinkle some salt; no time to look for pepper. I roll the chapathi and the omelette together and eat them. Halfway through, I see that my egg is still gooey and I look at it in disgust. I take huge chunk and swallow it as soon as possible.

I grab my bag, check for my wallet, keys, phone and file and then head out. It had been raining the whole night and it is a bad day to wear light colored clothes. I rush inside for an umbrella and  my clock shows 8:15. Great.

I practically run to the bus stop. There’s an unfamiliar crowd and I wait for about five seconds when a huge, blue, leaning bus comes rumbling our way. There are people standing on the foot board. Obviously, I couldn’t even climb in. I walk away from the bus stop and look for an auto. One guy comes and I tell him the place, and he agrees to come. About halfway through, the auto stops. The driver tells me that there’s a problem with the engine and needs to be taken to the garage. I pay him and get out and look for another auto.

Nobody agrees to come. They say it is a very short ride. So I walk. And walk I did for 20 minutes until I reach the office, all sweaty and oily and stinky. I look at the time. Its  9:15. Not too late. I walk into the office and breathe warm air conditioned air, trying not to think about how many times it is set to be cleaned automatically, or how many bacteria and fungi the machine is harbouring, or how my nose had already started to itch. I talk to the receptionist and giver her my name. She goes in. After a few minutes, she comes back out and says the interviewer will be late. I slump in my seat. And I wait.

3 hours. That long. He finally comes in, dressed in a suit and tie and I take a good look at him. He looks young to be interviewing me. Too young, if I might add, probably even my age. I shrug off the thought when the receptionist asks me to come in. The interviewer was the MD of the company, and he had started it all on his own. He apologises several times for keeping me waiting before we actually got to talk. I am pleased with how it went. I might even get the job! He looked pleased when he went through my resume and after he spoke to me. Ha! Take that, Murphy!

After the huge morning fiasco, I am late to meet my friends for lunch. I order some fast food for lunch and take it home. As I am waiting for a bus, a car speeds by me on a huge puddle, spraying me and my food and my bag with filthy water harbouring who knows how many diseases. I decide to give myself a break and take another auto home.

When I got home, there is no power. The water is empty in the tanks and I need electricity to pump it up. I sit freezing in my own living room until the power comes back on.

Murphy’s law tried ruining my day and almost—ALMOST— succeeded. But I am a tough competitor. It had to lose.



Birthdays seem like such special days

It is, for many, but for some, it is totally awkward

Ravishing chocolate birthday cakes like there’s no tomorrow

Then what do we do if you don’t like cakes?

Here’s what we’re thinking:

Drive all over the city, catch up on each other,

And let you buy the present of your choice

You couldn’t have given me a better gift.