Sunday, June 17, 2012

The Saturday that went by


It's hard to imagine that on the next weekend, I will be calling another place 'my house where i live' :S:S. It's beyond imagination. A helpful friend suggested, "Don't think too much". But that's like asking a cat not to meow. It will stop for a while, but eventually, it WILL meow.

So I meant to write about yesterday in this post. The reason why I'm penning the day down is that these kind of days come only once (or maybe twice) in your life. And I'd like to remember it and look back on my fear and apprehensions with a smile on my face. Insha Allah multiplied by a gazillion.

The day started with Chotpo waking me up early because we had to go to the parlor at 10 am. Off we went, and reached there in record time. Saturday morning traffic is relatively light and so the ride was actually pleasant. Mum was with me but had meant to run some errands while we attended to our parlor duties.

I walked in, and was pleased to note that we were one of the first customers. Chotpo and I were taken to separate cubicles, and then the stuff began. Stuff that makes you want to scream (in pain), to wince in discomfort, and not to mention, the unbearable urge to scratch your face :$. It was painful. The whole trip can be described as 'painful'. I wonder how many decibels of pain is that :p.

Khair, that done, we both got haircuts and then after begging R Phuppo to take some money from us (she wouldn't hear a word of it!), we went away.

Anyway, reached home, and then the suitcases had to leave and enter the new home. They're braver than I am. They were packed inside a hi-roof and off they went, with me, waving them goodbye (inwardly of course) and trying not to appear/be depressed. Something is just inexplicably sad about seeing your stuff move out of your home.

When I said to the upstairs wali Aunty: I'm sad my samaan went away.
She said in the most matter-of-fact voice you can imagine: So ? You'll go away as well. Insha Allah.

**gulp**. Was that supposed to make me feel better?

Right. The troubles hadn't ended. Me and a friend had to go to Meena Bazar and get a lady to apply mehendi (henna) on the families'  hands on Monday. So we went. If you have been to Meena Bazar, you wouldn't at all feel surprised at the barrage of calls, yells, shrieks and insults that greet you the minute you step upstairs to the ladies' section. Thankfully, my friend was a pro at these things. She went to the corner and started bargaining her way through the discussion. I sat quietly, trying not to grimace at certain points of the discussion.

I could see dishonesty and distaste everywhere. There were devious looks, malevolent stares, jealous faces, and spite - all mixed into the salad bowl called Meena Bazaar. Their mehendi is awesome, no doubt. I so wish their personalities and attitudes were too.

We then went to another market called Paposh. There were a plethora of things to do. I didn't know my way anywhere in the market. My friend was the expert. A very fast expert. She speedily moved through the pushing throng of people and I followed her, trying not to huff and puff.. :). We did the work and came back by 6.30.

I was ready to drop dead.

But no, the day wasn't over. The 'Dress' had major troubles written all over it. It's the last minute. Who would help? We didn't have answers. The lady who could help was having an event at her place the next day (that is, today), and this meant that she was completely unavailable. Before Mum could finish praying for some help after Maghrib salah (grin), our upstairs aunty called up, asking whether 'there is any work to be done that she can help out with' .. the kind soul!

We explained the dress problems and she  came hurrying down, inspected the dress and immediately thought of solutions. She has this lady tailor who lives two streets away and we went to that tailor aunty at once.

She inspected the dress, tsked tsked over it, and then said, 'You have to bear it, beta. It's just a matter of a few hours. I will increase this length here by 1.5 to 2 inches. I cannot possibly increase it to 4 inches (which was the actual trouble).

How is one expected to walk in this stuff?

Why is it deemed necessary? Can't one do without it?

*beyond annoyed*

Anyway, as the good lady said, it's just a matter of a few hours. Imagine the amount of money and effort spent on it... it's just plain, sad and illogical.

So long folks.. *gloomily*

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