Saturday 13 August 2016

Adulting!

Sitting on a mattress that's been abandoned on the floor, still drying my hands from the dishes I just did, sighing with relief at the a/c stabilizer which I just got fixed, using my very own wifi connection, I am back, to scribble in here, after more than a year. Like pretty much most times, I'm here to crib/contemplate/impart gyaan , about the latest phase I have been ruthlessly thrown into. Adulting. 

Yeah, I'm 23, a lot of people are getting married around me, people are couple of years into their work life, some have chosen to prolong getting out of academic atmospheres, some are trying to fathom what to do. I belong to a bunch of these categories, and more. Right now, though, I am learning to run a house. 

Do you know the number of things that involves? Our parents make it look so easy! Let's begin from keeping an eye on the water level in your bubble top, remembering to pay oh so many bills, to the most tedious job of all - cooking and cleaning. I'll get to that last bit of horror in a short while. You start looking out for the vegetable vendor who walks past your street screaming out his wares, because supermarkets don't sell curry leaves. You worship the guy who brings your refill water bubble, and the akka who has the ironing stand in the street nearby. You have to remember the expiry date of the milk, you need to remember to shut everything you opened, and only you are in charge of maintaining the whole place in a live-able manner. 

Oh! sweeping. and mopping. and cleaning drains! Ooh the lovely chore of cleaning up the washrooms! No no. I am not done, I could actually go on and on for three days, and I still wouldn't have finished listing out everything! That's when there are so many more things that I haven't recognized as things I need to do. 

I've always questioned us evolving into a species that required food so often. Having to buy groceries while handling this mental grid in my head, and then going through the tedious process of cooking, which is followed by the briefly pleasant period of eating, and then the never ending period of cleaning up after yourself, has only escalated my confusion. I have a new found respect for my mom. Seriously. Who wants to do this three times a day?! Everyday?! 

Let's get into the myriad of rules that surrounds cooking. A show of hands of people who knew these things:
(i) If your cookware isn't non-stick, food will literally stick to the bottom of the pan.
(ii) the difference between a saucepan and anything else that's not a frying pan or a tava
(iii) you don't add masala to the oil directly.
(iv) if curd boils, it'll separate and look like someone threw up.
(v) oil can just start spluttering. for no reason. or maybe it is avenging a previous injustice? 
(vi) you use only wooden spoons and things on non-stick pans.
(vii) the disaster that you create when you mix up dhaniya and methi is...nope. no. I can't. I'm not ready to talk about it just yet.

Go ahead and laugh at me all you want, because these things sound so simple. But when you start doing this business for yourself, and get even one of these messed up because it slipped your mind or you didn't know, I'll wait on this side for you with tissues. 


I swore I wouldn't rant. I swear I swore I wouldn't rant. 

Also, also, no please, just hear me out, your head will primarily be occupied by a supermarket-list. Most of your conversations will surround cooking and cleaning and eating and washing. There was this second when I noticed that, and I hyperventilated. I cold've gone running back to my parents' house, if it weren't so expensive an affair. And hey! nobody gets to judge people going back to live in their parents house, or never leaving their parents' basements, okay? No. I so freaking completely understand. 

I started this blog, when I freaked about being grown up and having to live in a hostel. And here I am today, wondering about what I should do with the extra tomatoes and chillies I have.  

I learnt some more things in the past one week. The gossip-py paatti next door may bore you to death or eat up your time with the minute details she goes into, when passing by your open window, but she will always equally meticulously guide you through things you have no idea how to do. When you are all by yourself in a house, and you are standing at the door, not realizing that you look forlorn, Nirmala aunty from the house across from you will brighten your day up with her smile. Shantha aunty from nearby will make you feel safe, because she'll drop by to see how you are doing. I began comprehending people's need to live with other people. Having it all on your shoulder can be terrifying. And while the privacy is brilliant, the fact that you are all alone by yourself with an entire house to yourself, can be a little, well, freaky, I think the word is. I found out that to adult, there needs to be a safe-house, where you know you can just take off to, if/when s**t hits the roof. Also, that one person, who you can go crib to endlessly about having to run a house. Oh there is one more thing you just can't do without - written down recipes that your mom dictated, teaching you how to make rasam and sambar and mor kolamb. 

Probably, a month later, I won't crib as much, or feel so overwhelmed, but I'm willing to bet, that atleast for another decade, I'm not quite going to get the hang of this. 

This I write, while hoping that the next time I feel like writing in here, my power hasn't gone off because I forgot that electricity was a commodity we had to be thankful for, in cash. 

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