Life is both a major and a minor key trala la la la

Last week, out of the deep sea blue, my piano teacher texts "Classes will be suspended from sunday onwards. My best wishes to you." That's it. No explanation. The man just quits on us. A guy who teaches from an 8 year old to a company CEO. I called him, he didn't answer. I texted him, he didn't write back. I read his text over and over again. Asked my friends and family what they thought it meant. No, I didn't screw up the comprehension. I was mad, fuming, helpless and on the verge of tears. I felt as if a boy just broke up with me.

In a foul mood for the rest of the evening and after having scolded 3 different people at Pizza Hut I stuffed myself with half a large pizza, half a helping of pasta arrabiata and a full bottle of Thums Up. I gave my piano a forlorn look and every time I'd laugh at something my eyes would search the piano and I'd be sad again. I didn't know when it would be the next time we'd make sweet sweet lov...music. It was a tragedy, a travesty. Why would you do this to me? kept replaying in my head.

Of course, after a while it occurred to me - You can find a new teacher, you know?, quite akin to "I'm single now so I must scout for new men". But will he be as good as the last one? Will he see me sing and play and tell me "You know, you can be quite devastating"? (Last statement is verbatim)

After two days of piano-abstinence, I picked up the shards of my broken heart and sat on the bench, laid my chubby fingers on the piano again, happy again, till I reached a point in the sheet music that confused me and I thought "I'll ask Sir in the next class"

The more I thought of getting a new teacher, the more uncomfortable it made me. That lead me to think a plethora of questions. What is holding me back to find a new teacher? Why this inertia? Am I supposed to be loyal to one teacher because I've developed a bond with him? Is it a matter of loyalty, general affection or just the fact that we get comfortable in familiarity? Would I inadvertently insult him if I find a new teacher in the next week? Would I be moving on too quickly? Should I give him sometime to gather his thoughts and contact me again? How long do I wait? What if I take a trial class with another teacher and then sit on the decision for a bit?

Today I was discussing with my cousin my last "supposedly serious"(?) encounter with a guy and told her how he's moved on to other women and she retorted in the most unexpected way. She goes "Hey your teacher could call you someday and might drop the bomb. I'm teaching a new student now, he'll say" I don't know if it was the Happy Houred alcohol or the way she said it with zero expressions, but I was ROTFLMAOing all over the place going "Oh that was funny! You're funny! That was so funny! I'm teaching a new student now. Oh dear God!" Umm...you had to be there.

P.S: At the risk of sounding totally selfish, I'd like to add that I hope whatever he's going through gets sorted out soon and he gets back to teaching for his own sanity, 'cause I know how much he loves music and transferring the immense knowledge he possesses.

How to identify and wipe out Trisals

 Back in 2007 I thought I was the funniest person around. Read on, you'll know why I was wrong.

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They talk, you listen. They talk, you listen. They talk, ok you get the idea, they’re all talk…

A Trisal originates from a small village in Kashmir and the inhabitants of this village are extremely Trisalian; beady eyes, crooked nose, you might even mistake them to be oddly beautiful, but like I said, you might be mistaken…

Kaul, Dhar, Tikku etc. are all brothers of a Trisal, only more sissy. They quietly observe and crib with their scorn, whereas you have to make sure you never annoy a Trisal, you don’t want an already loud and obnoxious unit of that species to turn into a potentially dangerous drama king/queen (Relax! Medical researchers are currently in the process of making anti-Trisal vaccines)

Trisals are multi taskers, losers on multi levels. A Trisal always grows beyond 158 cm, more often than not in breadth. They work less and talk about it as if they are being working like white mules in the cold Himalayan weather (what?!?!) Their blood, however, is a blend of apple juice and snow.

They make bad jokes as the last one and then snort/grunt alongside.

They make sure they tell everyone about their Russian lineage so they can make themselves sound exotic. Show offs! Maybe they should change Trisal to Trisalikov/Trisalikova and bear hopes of becoming a Czar/Czarina someday.

They don’t have hair, theirs is something that resembles a horse’s tail. Rest have a visibly smooth scalp.
In Digital Distress by LAN Brown you will find a machine that does not decode but forms complex, unbreakable codes. That machine is a TRISL.

What is Trisalkaidekaphobia? Fear of number 13? Well congrats, your GRE prep is impeccable! But look again, Trisalkaidekaphobia is fear of a Trisal.

It was rumored that the British fled India cuz they met a Trisal and since then as per the law, 20 hours with a Trisal is an acceptable method of execution in 15 Indian States.

How to wipe out Trisals

1)      Ask it to prepare for CAT…yet again!
2)      Put 3 more pieces of Roganjosh in its thali (When they say they have diarrhea, believe them and slowly walk away)
3)      Ask it to listen to Hindi songs
4)      Put it on a vegetarian diet for a month (Navratre are half death itself, twice a year)

Peace Out!

-Czarina A.Trisalikova

A hippie with painted worry lines

Stress levels are at an all-time high. As I was telling a friend, my sulk cycle goes like this: Silence with evident sullenness -> Shouting/blaming/talking back -> Final breakdown with endless crying.

I know what you're thinking - This is every woman! But anyway, I'm currently in the first stage and absolutely dreading what's to come next. Since this takes place atleast once a year, I know the future stages are virtually inevitable.

Two years ago when I got recruited by my current firm, I knew I would be shifting in two years time. And I was pretty chilled out till I realized time is closing in and I need to start applying all over again. Rejection, of all types, is my biggest fear. The interview process, the path leading to rejection hell. I have so many expectations from my potential employer that meeting them, though, may not be impossible, thoughts of self-doubt creep up every now and then that may lead to me giving up without even trying. And then I will see less deserving people land my dream job and I will huff and puff and tell myself it wasn't meant to be.

The number of hours I have spent talking about my industry of choice, Bombay as the only location under consideration and salary package that ensures that I don't live like a pauper in that pigeon-hole city as I pay my education loan EMIs, have been making me dizzy. While some friends instill hope of such companies existing and discuss the subsequent probability of my recruitment, others (looking at my desperation) simply ask me to compromise and drop one of the three conditions. Then there's the whole music thing, why am I not doing anything about it...blah...blah...I think I'll skip right to the third and final crying stage.

But it is this stress leading to additional stresses is what's really stressing me out. Say hello to weight gain and gray hair.

When a middle-aged man in your team asks you to start using the office gym, you know things are rather awry. The "getting healthy, winter style" doesn't bother me as much as possible health problems do. Lately my family has been plagued with all sorts of diseases and it's freaking me out. Cancer has quite literally spread like cancer and having closely seen three such cases in my immediate family, without any genetic history, trust me you wouldn't even wish it on an enemy. Gym and a healthy diet starts pronto. Maybe after I lick all the crumbs off this pizza box.

This is ridiculous. Now every time I look at the mirror, I look at my hair more than my face. Every day, around three times a day, I play Spot The Gray And Pluck It Out. A Zen-like state might help the cause to an extent, but you can't help thinking you're not getting any younger. 

There are two solutions to this:

a) Start coloring hair as soon as the number of gray hair on the head surpasses the single digit count. The Salt and Pepper look may look hot on a guy, I seriously doubt the trend will extend to our species anytime soon.

b) Get married asap so there's no pressure to look young. Darling, let's grow old together.

Where marriage is a mortal fear (similar to rejection), coloring my hair seems like a worse idea. Do you even know what all one needs to do to take care of colored hair? Buy expensive shampoos, go for hair spas (which I am absolutely clueless about) then you slowly watch them get brittle and fall out eventually. Are you friggin mad? Marriage seems easy peasy in front of it. 

God, I need a vacation.

Men & Women

A man, his speech

She read between the lines

That naive, young woman.

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Men are from Mars

Women checked out a few planets

Before settling for Venus.

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Women are from Venus

Men are lost in translation

How very unsettling.