This is the only photograph I have obtained from my tamperings in Film City.
Hair- raising Events
Hairdressers have a special place in their hearts for me. Sadly, I hate their guts. I went to a new one last night, and she was incredibly sweet and charged me half her price and gave me a free blowdry too. How kind, you say. But after she was done, and gone terribly against my instructions of giving me a trim and doing nothing else, I wished she had charged me double for not touching my hair. For some reason, she left my length as it was, but kept chopping off hair from the middle so that now it resembles a thin mousy tail. And we all know that I hate mice!
To top it all off, I was getting a pedicure while my hair was being cut. Which might be why I didn’t pay much attention to what she was doing to my hair. The guy doing my pedicure turned it into a foot massage, then a leg massage and it almost became a thigh massage I tell you. I wasn’t complaining till I saw that he had… a tip of an extra thumb (complete with it’s own nail) growing out of his right thumb! Such were the hands going up my skirt.
The best part was, that after all of this, the hairdresser turned to me and said, “You’re a beautiful girl. Learn to love yourself.” How can I after what they did to me in there?!?
Pet Peeve #261:
The fact that tourists turn into disgusting slobs when they visit India.
In their own countries, these men and women might be the pinnacle of fashion and hygiene, but as soon as they come to India, they wear clothes that resemble a toilet rag, and smell like one too. They find the cheapeat, dirtiest, fly-infested hotel and eat sweat-infused street food and then complain that everyone gets sick in India. And they don’t shower their entire period of stay here.
I have been dealing with a breed of such tourists for the past few days, and there are a few more to go. At first, I was happy to see so many white faces around me after so long, but then I soon realized that if one of them wanted to hug me or shake my hand, I would cringe and run away. Which I did.
Such is the life of a star
I have done the needful, and am now immortalized on film in an avatar that was ridiculed by the all the actors, the director and the crew and called everything from a schoolgirl to a mental asylum ward-boy to a trans-gendered Thai masseuse. I wish I had the embarrassment gene, which would have prevented me from going through this saga.
Clouds to Dust
After reaching my career peak three days ago, I’m heading straight into the deepest pitch I hope my life will have. I am making my big screen acting debut tomorrow. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow I shall become with body and soul… hold your breath… Chinese Waxing Lady.
Yes, that’s right. No further comments please. If you want the full story, watch Dostana when it comes out.
P.S.- It helps that I’m buzzed from wine. Not alone this time (refer to earlier drunken post). And not paid out of my own pocket. Though it’s not what you are thinking, although if you knew me, you wouldn’t be thinking that anyway.
Coming Up
I started writing a list about how an auto risckshaw ride is like being in a relationship. Then I had to pee and, soon after, I couldn’t summon the kind of effort that such a list requires. Trust me, though, they are the same. I just hope I can write out that list to convince all and sundry.
It's too bad
I have peaked too soon. The highest point in my career has already happened. I had to handcuff John to a bed. Multilple times. While he teased me about it. All my prayers have been answered.
Something I had forgotten about...
I’ve had the pleasure of having a convenience shop-cum-meat-store named after me. It was called Chinky’s Chicken, and existed for several years before my uncle gambled it away. I have no idea what exists there today. Probably a Chinese food stall of the same name.
And speaking of chicken, my face is covered with red mosquito bites. How will I get John when I look like I have the pox?!
Phew.
It’s all clear now. After spending an awesome day on a luxurious film set with famous, shirtless actors, fun non-ugly people to chat with, and having the director play the film’s soundtrack on the studio speakers just for my benefit, I know that I made the right decision when I came back to India.
Tomorrow, I might change my mind though, as it entails actual hard work… but then again, they’re filming a stripper scene with John Abraham in a semi-nude state, so I might like it after all.
I’ve had my first real taste of the Bombay Monsoons, and it tasted… salty. If only I had to wake up today and sit near my window, sipping coffee and reading a novel all day. What a perfect day that would have been. Alas, I had to wake up at 7 am, put on my rainboots (LOVE those suckers) and try and get to Film City. And so it began. I walked out of my building, straight into a slapping downpour, and came onto the main street. Not only was the street submerged in about a foot and a half of water, it was also lacking in its usual array of promptly waiting Auto Rickshaws. So, a little arrogant about my beautiful and functional boots, I began to walk towards another street while other losers stood around waiting.
Getting an auto on the other street was no joke either. All of them were occupied, there were few to begin with, and the empty ones didn’t even bother to stop. Alas it was raining, or I would have tried the good old lift-the-skirt tactic. Which probably wouldn’t have worked anyway. And so, finally, I landed a sucker and told him where I needed to go. He smirked, and took off. All the while, he kept telling me how we will never get there, but I urged and he relented. The assholes in cars often delighted in going past us at full speed, thereby splashing us with huge dirt waves. The auto stopped working mid-street 2 times, but we waited for a bit, and off it started again. The destination seemed attainable, the journey adventurous. And then, when we were an hour away from home, I got a call saying that Film City is submerged in water and the shoot will probably get cancelled. Greaaat.
And so, a U-turn was made and on we went, back to our humble beginnings. The driver and I bonded, made out and now I’m having his baby.
The best part was that once I got back, I dried up, made and ate lunch and then had to brave the streets once again to come to the office. I’m still here, and Journey 4 of this wonderful day awaits. I secretly love this shit.
