7.00am: My phone makes a strangled sound and I stumble out of bed, groaning and holding my head. Last night I had to brave the most fearsome animal of all; the quintessential Bollywood party and in order to stand still in the eye of this hurricane I took a two-pronged approach to retain my sanity.
1. A five-minute yoga session before leaving for the party to align my body, soul and mind.
2. Five drinks down my throat after reaching the party to delude myself into thinking that I am funnier and smarter than I truly am.
7.05 am: My phone pings again and I see 8 WhatsApp forwards about love and kindness. I wonder if on Sunday morning all these enthusiastic do-gooders could send out truly helpful things like ‘11 cures for a hangover’ or ‘How to clean puke stains from your dress.’ I have no such luck; all I get are strange messages like, ‘Little memories can last for years.’ Very useful when you are trying hard to forget all the embarrassing things you did the night before.
Do I really need messages saying ‘A little hug can wipe out a big tear.’ or ‘Friendship is a rainbow’?
There is also a message saying ‘God blues you’ which I am trying to guess could mean that either God wants to bless me, rule me or make a blue movie with me.
Has it ever happened that a murderer just before committing his crime gets a message stating ‘Life is about loving’ and stops in his tracks or a banker reads ‘No greater sin than cheating‘ and quits his job?
So what do these messages really do?I think they allow lazy people to think that they are doing a good deed in the easiest possible manner by sending these daft bits of information out into the universe.
Go out there! Sweep a pavement, plant a tree, feed a stray dog. Do something, anything; rather than just using your fingers to tap 3 keys and destroy 600 people’s brain cells in one shot.
10 am: This is turning out to be a hectic day. The work that I have to accomplish (with a massive hangover) seems to range from begging the dentist to see our son who has managed to break part of his braces on a Sunday morning (Why can't these children choose a Tuesday or Thursday to mangle themselves is beyond me) to getting the baby ready for her friend’s birthday party which she has to reach at 11 am.
I spend half an hour wrapping thepresent artistically with contrasting bows because I am obsessed with silly things like gift wrapping rather than serious matters like what Arvind Kejriwal is eating, writing and wearing in Tihar jail and of course dragging my carcass for a quick shower and transforming from a bedraggled, middle- aged woman to a not-so-ancient, vaguely hip mom of a19- month-old so that I can accompany the baby to this little party.
4 pm: I am driving by Juhu and I see a beautiful peacock perching on a rusty building gate. I frantically point him out to the baby, bring my car to a screeching halt and whip out my phone to take a sublime photo of this extremely unusual moment only to find that my memory is full as I have just received 28 WhatsApp images from my cousin Kamalnath (Sweetie) Khanna which seem to promote peace but only steer me towards uncontrollable violence.
8 pm: I have now formulated my own WhatsApp forward message which I am going to send to my entire contact list and it goes like this: ‘Dear Sir/ Madam, I have recently been diagnosed with Systematic Psychotic Urge Disorder (SPUD) and random forwards seem to worsen my condition. Please help me save the planet one person at a time. 'God blues you'.