The few people (I don’t even need all my fingers to count them) who do take cursory glance at the blog have enquired whether this place has shut down like the Kerala companies plagued by labor union issues.
There were a few labor union issues and non- cooperation instances from the grey cells fraternity to deal with initially. This was followed by some major changes and decisions on the personal and professional front too … As is pretty obvious I can wax eloquent and get poetic when it comes to excuses.
So where were we? Yes the hiatus, about which I can pen a whole post and that being a good thing as I have been at a loss of choice for a topic for my post. Pliss pardon as it is a long rambling account and I will not take responsibility for the discovery for the cure of insomnia.
There was an upheaval on the professional front. I was struck by an acute case of GIGOTOS syndrome. It sapped out all my creative juices and made me listless and wary. I could not concentrate and a change from the current scene was the cure suggested by all and sundry. Hence began the search for a perfect place for change of scene, many options were considered, researched upon and approached and finally decided upon. The D day arrived and when I landed at the new place, it was almost like my first day in school, all alone and lost. To add to it the place is an ocean of humans if there can be one. So in short I felt like a fish (who obviously cannot swim) thrown into an ocean. Like they say it is a GIGOTOS syndrome (Grass is greener on the other side syndrome for the uninitiated). Anyways we have learnt to swim here and the going is good so far….
Since there was enough adjusting going on the professional front, we (the BH and I) decided it was time for a change on the home front too. Thus began our house hunt. Every Saturday the property ads in the newspaper would be duly encircled and we would embark on our mission to find a perfect place to call home. The discoveries we made would range from pathetic to heartbreaking. Pathetic since what you read in the ads is normally the reverse of what you get to see and heartbreaking since the Murphy’s law of perfect home states that “ What the eyes perceive as the perfect home is inversely proportional to the size of the bank balance.” However much of petrol and energy burning happened and we finally settled for a property to call home. Much joy and jubilation happened. The interiors were planned and visualized, the spouse even building a few kennels in the air. The only minor things to be done being, getting all the documents in place, get the loan sanctioned and getting the house registered in our name.
After much deliberation, we decided to avail a loan from a nationalized bank. We scoured our homes for our documents, which meant having to expose my engineering mark sheets which I had stuffed into a deep hole like the one in Alice in Wonderland for public scrutiny. The documents were duly submitted and complete, so we thought. Like every thriller, now it was the time for the villain to make his presence felt. In our case it was in the form of our bank and bankers. Initially they sent in the vamp (read the sales guy) to seduce us wit their sweet talk and just when we fell for their charm, the bad guy struck blow after blow, and we were left reeling. Our banker was a lonely guy who loved company. So he made sure we dropped by to visit him on a weekly or on some occasions on a bi-weekly basis. We exchanged small talk and each time a single document in our ever increasing pile would be found missing and he found an excuse to meet us again ( this is the trouble of having a pleasing personality people keep coming back for more )
We realized his ploy but by then it was too late. I watched with despair as our file moved from one table to the next but the loan was still a distant dream. The inherent communist in me even contemplated a Harthal with red flags and sloganeering but gave up for the lack of support. Finally the spouse in true hero style almost came to blows with the banker, after much tussle the hero won and the loan was passed.
The registration also was not without hiccups, with a few nonchalant government clerks and an absolute dead pan lawyer thrown in to add to the circus. Anyways after much tears and sweat and theatrics, the house is finally ours.
The home shifting saga made me realize that objects (like clothes, cardboard boxes etc etc) however inanimate do multiply like rabbits. How else can I explain the enormous amount of stuff I had hoarded over a year’s time? The parents who had been sent an SOS for a rescue mission to sort out the stuff; were blinded by the sheer volume of the wardrobe (mine of course). They reiterated what the husband had just declared; do not shop unless you have worn each garment at least once. Pray can some one please explain to them that I still face paucity of clothes each morning? Some things like they say cannot be explained, they need to be experienced to be believed. The battle is still waging on that front which I believe will end like all Indo- Pak talks, with no dossier satisfying either parties.
Phew this roti, kapda & makaan saga was exhilarating to say the least. An emotional roller coaster which methinks needs a whole month of retail therapy to recover from … There did I just say more clothes??