Delhi was hot dusty and crowded. It hardly feels like September yet. It is still June-hot at times or July-rainy at others. Commuting in Delhi was always a bitch. Trying to get to point B (ITO) from point A (Saket) can never be a joy. My first day from B to A was spent in vainly trying to hail an auto. The guys throw attitude that would put owners of a private jet to shame, refusing even to look in your direction, let alone stop! Then I noticed that the frequency of buses towards Saket was about a minute a bus. I gripped my suitcase hard and jumped on to one. After years and years, I was back in the arms of DTC. The bad part is, of course, that you have to get off at the bus stop and walk home, but hey - I needed that exercise.
Sooooo on day zwei I went for my date. That sounds simple, but was complicated. I had to first spend my day in the office which threw me into a quandry. But the only option was to DRESS for the date in the morning and freshen up in the evening just before. I had to carry my full arsenal with me, makeup, perfume, hair brush, face wash, what not. I landed up wearing a diphanous black georgette kurta. The guys politely looked the other way ... thank god. Come evening and I spent some desperate moments in the loo brushing up the warpaint. It did go well, the ambience was right, the food was good etc etc. Why wasn't it perfect? Because I was beset by the VBS syndrome that Oxy pointed out. I was wearing a diphanous black kurta and a pinkish skin coloured ahem.. Though I had arranged my hair to mask the VBS's I agonised about it peeking through. My hair gleamed, the dress was good, my nails were polished, my lipstick gorgeous, shoes in order vagaira vagaira and my mind was stuck on you know what..
Sigh .. why can't life be perfect?
Sooooo on day zwei I went for my date. That sounds simple, but was complicated. I had to first spend my day in the office which threw me into a quandry. But the only option was to DRESS for the date in the morning and freshen up in the evening just before. I had to carry my full arsenal with me, makeup, perfume, hair brush, face wash, what not. I landed up wearing a diphanous black georgette kurta. The guys politely looked the other way ... thank god. Come evening and I spent some desperate moments in the loo brushing up the warpaint. It did go well, the ambience was right, the food was good etc etc. Why wasn't it perfect? Because I was beset by the VBS syndrome that Oxy pointed out. I was wearing a diphanous black kurta and a pinkish skin coloured ahem.. Though I had arranged my hair to mask the VBS's I agonised about it peeking through. My hair gleamed, the dress was good, my nails were polished, my lipstick gorgeous, shoes in order vagaira vagaira and my mind was stuck on you know what..
Sigh .. why can't life be perfect?
