00:50 IST
The Cool Room Downstairs, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

The stage is set. There is a room with a round table, three chairs around it and bright white light. I sit on one of the chairs and look around, not really looking. My bag is on my lap. I keep it on the floor and clasp my hands together. I close my eyes. Several minutes later, the door opens and in walk two very highly regarded names of the industry. We shake hands, they sit, ask for my CV.  Questions begin

Q: So why don't you begin by telling us what you are doing now?
A: blah blah blah .....blah blah.....blah blah

Q: So you wish to join a news bureau, what was the big news of the day that you read in the paper today?
A: staring at the table
Q: Even a topic would suffice
A: I read. I can't remember

Q: No problem. What interesting piece of news did you read in WSJ India today or in the last week?
A: staring at the table. look up. My brain is frozen.

Q:  No problem

Rest continues.

Horrible interview. If I was the interviewer, I'd just say FUCK bloody OFF. How dare you come to my office and waste my time like this!? How dare I.

23:54 IST
Toy Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Early morning summer breeze in Delhi has a distinct sense of coolness about it. It almost feels like I have a little AC cut-out-window in the room, cool air wafting in and mixing up with the warm dry wind of the fan. Woke up early to go to purani dilli. Its empty in the mornings. Quite a pleasing sight. Except for the garbage every ten steps on the street. And clothes hanging from bunches of electric cables overhead! But no matter what time of the day, Jama Masjid ALWAYS takes my breath away. It startles me every fucking time! Walked along the City Wall, a fortress-like structure of the 'seventh city of Delhi', built by Shah Jahan. I don't get these numbers. Delhi is one city. What the fuck is the seventh and eighth thing all about?? Must find out. Anyhoo, the wall badly maintained. Climbed up and walked like a queen, looking DOWN at the puny creatures of the earth. A halwai was furiuosly stirring his halwa in a giant kadhai (big enough to hold the moon) with a massive bamboo stick! Dry heat. Dry hair. Irritated. Lack of fucking space caused irritation today. Banged doors. Must not do this. Im not 18 anymore, even though I can't bloody WAIT to get out of this place, just as I had felt several years back. Must act my age. 12? Shutup. Job job fuck-job-ing the job.

00:09 IST
The Living Room Downstairs, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Wanker-of-a-day. I'm beginning to understand the little things that used to irk me in the house. The things that pushed me out and find a life of my own on my own. I hate the earth-shattering noise decibels of the telly. Dadi is deaf. She jams her nose up close to the screen and still can't seem to hear the shit her shitty serials spew. Papa is a bit deaf as well. His vacant expression as he mindlessly flips through channels doesn't help. I don't have any control over my environment. There is no space for me. There is no me-space in the house, where I can shut the fucking door and do whatever the fuck I want to do without having people barge in at their own will. Its fucking annoying. I don't like being given service. It makes me a lazy blob. It makes me not bother to do anything. Helping out is not in my DNA. I won;t help unless I am absolutely exclusively asked to or needed. I hate mum hovering around - looking lost and hyper. She keeps asking the most pointless of things. Get a life mom! You really need a hobby. I will help you find one. And get you absorbed in it. Your children are grateful for your love and affection but I'm afraid they are not going to save you. They have lives of their own to lead.Only you can save you.

These things still irk me to death. They will push me out of the house. Find a fucking job. Earn some money to pay my rent. All in good time. Can't bloody wait.

22:30 IST
The Living Room Downstairs, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Salaam Baalak Trust, a charity for destitute children. The destitute children are given shelter and care and education at this place. They organise a city walk, a walk around the area where they reside to talk about their charity and the things they do. The tour guides are the former destitute children, 'raised' and 'praised by the shelter. The talk includes all about the charity, their own lives and a little bit about the place where the walk happens. I went for the walk today. Came across two Scottish tourists - retired from work and travelling around the world for the past six months. This was their second visit to India, after 30 years. Last visit happened in 1984, just before the riots happened. They found out the hotel they stayed at burned down shortly after they left. What a story to tell friends. They were part of history! Something even I wasn't a part of, and this is my city.

Tariq Aziz was a friendly looking boy, all of nineteen and our tour guide. He showed us around. I ambled on. Noticed the transition happening in my head. Transition of my feelings towards my city. From distress to calm, from indifference to interest - I could see myself looking at the immense potential I had and the city had and our relationship had. Joy slowly finding its way back. Boy can't do it. Only I can. The sun was quite intense, but it was dry heat, and a slow breeze made the walk bearable. If not comfortable. The shelter was great. The kids were great. Had so much fun! Rodger, one of the Scots, said  you have already adopted them! Think I'll volunteer for the place. Give it a shot for a month. Nothing to lose, really.

Walked out of the shelter with the Scots and asked way to the metro station. One guy comes to me and goes, I have auto rikshaw. Rs 50. I went, bhaiya please. Das rupiye mein pahunch jaate hain. He looked at me and said 'your hindi is good!' WTF.

German bakery - beautiful chicken momos and coke and WD's City of Djinns. I was breaking the family fast today. Bad girl. Walked to a book stall. Bought Khushwant Singh's Delhi. The shopkeeper asked me:
Do you like to read astrology?
Me: Na
SK: I am famous astrologer. I do face reading palm reading star reading everything. Foreigners write four-five pages in their books, international bestsellers about me.
Me: Wow
SK: hehe
Me: Are you accurate?
SK: Actually, I was born 22 years after my parents married. At the age of five, my mother took me to a tantrik. My village in Guwhati had lots of problems. Cows getting lost, people getting kidnapped. The tantrik brought a mirror to my face. I could tell them the exact location of the cow and the kidnapped people. I am always accurate. I am very good. You can try me.
Me: Thanks. Will do!

Exit. Phew. Day well spent.

00:31IST
The Living Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

My sister is a student of fashion design. Her need to do extraordinary things with a stamp of herself on it is greater than her need for basic things - like food or sanity. Its a creative thing. So she needed to get a wooden frame made to do something know as screen printing. No idea what all that entails. My job was to be her escort. Her buddy. Her companion. Somebody who hangs around with her and cracks the occasional joke. Keeps the atmosphere light and giddy. A sidekick.

We went in a dust ridden area called Lakkad Mandi of Kirti Nagar. There was a slight dust storm brewing. What better place to be in. Perfect timing. After a lot of hunting and asking in a largely male dominated area (two chicks in drab clothes asking for wooden frames? still eyed unusual) we found a shack of a shop in a street full of tables and deity statuetes. The man of the moment, Roshaad gladly bailed us out of our trouble of finding the right frame. He sat us down, asked pointed questions on our exact requirements. Then instructed the carpenters on what to do. We were given syrupy cups of teas and lots of fodder on the man's life as we waited for our frame to be cut.

Twas fun. The outing. Writing this wasn't so fun, strangely.

00:54IST
The Toy Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Mommie took me to the State Bank of India today. A branch in Chandni Chowk, probably the oldest branch of the bank in the country. Been around since 1861. Massive, cream coloured building with huge black gates. Inside is a wide space of organised chaos. Departments serving different functions of the bank and scores of people scurrying about. A spiral staircase led me to a museum-of-sorts explaining a bit of history of Chandni Chowk bazaar and of thr bank. An aristoratic looking security officer - a bored expression with a long white beard and a long, hawk-hooked-nose. He sat me down and told me tales about the amazing spectacle shop in Balli Maraan that sells superb, designer frames at dirt cheap rates and if I don't go there then I'm a dimwit. He talked about himself - that he hails from Delhi and has served his life towards work for 36 years - six in the army and 30 to the bank, and that this was his last year of service. He lit a ciggarette and bid me farewell, saying he gets bored, enjoys talking to people when they come along. People hardly come along. Good day today!

23:33IST
The Parents' Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Up. Gym. The cute turbonator kept passing smiles. Pretty sure he's looking for a fuck. Not interested. The hair scares me. The hot one was glued to the phone throughout my chest ripping session. He's getting his fuck from that. Pah. Walked home. The air is getting drier and drier as the days roll by. My toes, the soles of my feet, the palm of my hands, my face - all feel parched and raspy and itchy and dry. Not to mention the weird smell of dusty surfaces in the house. And the heat. I'm beginning to despise things.

Thought - coming to terms with being alone. The man I love, even if he could love me back, cannot make me feel any less alone than I already do. If I were to be a victim of molestation and rape on a random night on a random street in Delhi (a thing likely to happen), there is not a single number on my phone that I could call. Names would cross the mind ofcourse, but no number will be punched. Its my problem. I gotta use all my instincts and skills to get over it. But if I survive the event and find someone to talk to about it, freely unhibited talk - I'd feel happie.

Morbid.

Speaking of which, saw In The Loop for the squillionth time. I am in love with Tucker. He makes up for all my lack-of-sex frustration :D

10:46 IST
The Parents' Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

You fucking wank. What are you good at anyway? Procrastination. Yes. You procrastinate. All this bull shit about your internal world, and all these people that exist in your internal world, and all the talks you have with yourself in your head out in public for the world to see - this is procrastination. You complain. You whine. You criticize. Yourself and the world around you. You complain that you can't be a part of anything. But in reality, you DON'T want to be a part of anything. Dadi can you please stop shouting on the phone! You don't want to do anything. You're a lazy bum. You just want to imagine yourself working really hard. That's it. You're running after this image of a hard working person, without having to work really hard. You're just like everybody else. No different. A lazy fucker.

And yeah, you want sex. Lots of it. Fierce and fiesty. That plays on your mind all the time too.

You can't even tell the man you have always loved that you have always loved him. He is a real existing piece of shit. A friend. Why can't you tell him? Because I'm not sure what I want from him. Sex? Yeah but not just that. I don't want a relationship. Not at this point. I can't look to him to save me. Only I can save me. I'm volatile around him. Unsure of myself. Unable to look at him in the eyes. Its abnormal, this behaviour for me. I'll tell him though. At some point. He's a friend. He's busy. He's doing great things. I don't want to disturb that.

21:37 IST
The Parents' Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Thunder rumbles in the balcony outside. I sit to write the shitty write of the day's pointless events. Went to Mandi House to meet him to tell him that I need to talk to him. Here's how the pointless convo happened:

Me: Listen, I need to talk to you about something
He: Haan what happened?
Me: Not now, later
He: Arre, tell na
Me: Arre not now. Whenever you have time and headspace for me...
He: Arre but now that you have said it, talk na. I'll feel weird..
Me: Nono
He: Is this something scary?
Me: Nahi yaar, its not even urgent. Its just something important to me.
He: Then tell abhi. Its ok, we can talk like yo man.
Me: You let me know when you can talk later
He: ok

And I don't think he will let me know. Because he's a cunt. And I'm just a fool.

Anyhoo, came home. Lunched. Slept. Up. Tea and banter with sisters. The sky was freakishly copper. Walked in the balcony. Reactivated Facebook account. Changed profile picture. 15 likes already. People must have missed my pretty face. How wanted Facebook makes me feel. A virtual paradise for losers to show off their happy faces. I'm going for a walk now. Toodles.