of bugs and boys

This weekend was a mixture of crazy fun and way too much stress.

And the reason is simple. I took a bunch of friends from work to my parent’s holiday home in the hills. I turned into a psychotic paranoid woman who was obsessed with cleaning - which left me with no time to really take in the fun.

We left on Friday night, three boys and me in a car bound for Lonavala. The rest of them, two guys and three girls arrived the following night. During the course of two nights, several glasses were broken, bonfires were made, food was copiously consumed and drinks were drunk – as were some of the drinkers.

But the funniest part of the weekend was the first night with just the boys.

On the way there, they spoke like manly men, grunting excitedly with talks of building a large fire and throwing large chunks of meat on sticks over it. Talks of trekking to the mountains and camping out. Talks of embracing the wild. I listened intently, trying very hard not to laugh.

When we arrived they ran around the house like little boys, up and down the stairs like happy campers. They got their drinks and took chairs outside so they could take in the breeze. The sun set. The single street light came on.

And that’s when disaster struck.

The creatures of the night, including big flying ones, appeared.

And our three manly men could not shake off their fear. They tried to pretend that those massive moths, bugs and crickets did not bother them until they started slamming up against the window, with loud thuds.

One of the boys swore he saw a bat. And in a matter of minutes these “cavemen” were grabbing their belongings and running for cover, a little short of screaming like girls.
This is when they realized that a huge grasshopper had made its way inside.

The boys huddled into a corner while I got rid of it. Alright, so I am exaggerating a little, they didn’t huddle in a corner, they just all stood like manly men on the other side of the room, while I tried to catch, scare and kick the creature out of my house, with verbal support from them, of course.

Bugs and the boys do not mix well. The next morning a panicked phone call was made to the people joining us. Several cans of bug spray were ordered to be brought. One of the boys wanted to spray the entire surrounding area with bug spray so he suggested about three or four large cans.

Still determined to get in touch with their inner caveman, the boys found some villager to get wood and build a bonfire for a small fee. They sat around the fire on chairs, occasionally prodding the logs while they ate the chicken that a nice little aunty to agreed to cook for them (on a stove, not a bonfire)

All in all the city boys had a blast. And I had a great time watching big hulking boys run for cover 'cause of big, hulking bugs.

the break up

I have been avoiding Satya, the guy who does my taxes, for the past month now.

I have been cheating on him with another accountant.

This other guy now has my papers. I have allowed this new guy to study my files, peruse my account and do my paperwork. I’ve even given him a Form 16, something Satya has been asking from me forever.

I have been with Satya for about a year now. We’ve gone through the PAN card process together, the TDS stuff and all the rest of it. Our meetings were brief but meaningful.
A signature here, a stamped paper there.

But it wasn’t enough. I needed more.
I needed someone who was passionate about my paperwork.
So I cheated.

Yesterday Satya called me and I did not pick up the phone because I knew I had to tell him.

I had to break up with the man who saved my money last year.

This is how the conversation went in my head:

Me: Hello?

Satya: Hi, It’s me… You know tomorrow is the last day right… (Voice trails off)

Me: Yea. I know… Listen, we need to talk…

Satya: Oh? What about? Are your papers not….

Me: Never mind the papers.

Satya: What?

Me: I’m getting my taxes done from someone else. I can’t do this anymore.

Satya: What?

Me: Listen, I needed to. He seems so much more into it. I know you have other clients….

Satya: What?

Me: Don’t do this! You know what I’m talking about!

Satya: But…but why? All I ever asked for is your Form 16, maybe sometimes too many times.
But, I did it for you..

Me: I know. I know. It’s not you. It’s me. I need more. I need someone who is into me.

Satya: I am into you. I’m the one that keeps calling. Do I even expect anything from you?

Me: I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to do this for myself. One day you’ll understand. We can still be friends and send each other Diwali cards.

Satya: (sighs melancholically)

So armed with what I was going to say, I called him back.
This is how the conversation went.

Satya: Hello?

Me: Hi, It’s me…

Satya: Oh hi...

Me: Yea. I know… Listen, we need to talk…(Voice trails off)

Satya: What about? Your papers?

Me: Never mind the papers. I’m getting my taxes done from someone else.

Satya: Oh ok.

Me: What?

Satya: Fine, I believe you owe me 1000 rupees for last year.

Me: What?

Satya: You can give me a check. Better still, mail it.

Me: What?

Satya: Ok. Bye

Me: Errm. Bye? Is that….

(click)




Arrgh.
Men. I despise men.