Life IS haw-haw he-he in the ladies coupe

One week (weak?) into the new year and I confess that I hobbled in- huffing and puffing and all padded up and in the uncomfortable ladies coupe! Well, not literally, but as metaphors go, this'll do. Ladies coupe sounds far more genteel and refined than some others which I can but choose not to use. I haven't got a rating for this post and heaven forbid, if it read by those it is not meant for, notably the squeamish and non-women!?

It also serves as an indicator to all those who do not wish to get into details of typical talk in ladies coupes, or ladies' coops for that matter.

Ellen complained of how her welcome to Santa was constrained by the earlier arrival of Aunt Flo. In my case, as I was preparing for the 'New Years', as it is popularly referred to, and was in the 'more the merrier' mode, I got a bunch load of unwanted guests.

Guests- who come regularly enough and long over-stay their welcome but can cause extreme paranoia when they do not appear at the correct periodic intervals. A bit about them now- even before their presence is formally announced there are o so many indicators heralding that they'll be around soon. The Champ Cramp is the first among the outriders. The royal cavalclade is then made up of the Mood Hood who does a thorough once-over with his arsenal which is deployed against the valiant warriors- led ably by dashing dopamine. It is only in this suitably 'prepared' environment that Her Highness, Aunt Flo comes, accompanied as always by Uncle Blob. The Royal train is made up of their unmentionable offspring who regardless of the exact number appear to be a real dirty dozen. Theres gassy Gussy, who makes a pompous ass of himself and tender Princess Belinda who causes much ouch with her touch of tenderness. Then there is His Royalty, Prince Payne, who comes clad in dull fatigues and makes straight for the below the belt. With such a lively party on, could one ask for more?

The official New Year started with the customary bouquets (floral) and some brickbats. One of my guys had come up to 'call-on' with his wishes, in deference to my position in a floor above his. He walked in with a mouth full of paan and managed to shower me with the choicest of his good wishes, in flowery Hindi! But in the process, he also sprayed his spittle on me! "Hip-py Noo Eeear, My-dum", he managed to spit or not to spit(?) "And a happy (hippy) new year to you too!" I said, trying to seek cover against the assault of spittle. "Arre, my-dum, aap ismile kyon nahin de rahiin?" he asked. "Chehre pe barah kyon baja hai? Khush rahiye na. Aap khush hi acchi lagti hain." This smart guy didn't need any research to inform him of the relationship between hormones and appearance. How the hell do I tell this guy that I can't be bloody happy and grinning when I'm bleeding sick!?!

Then within moments I get an SMS from Big Sister (hereinafter referred to lovingly as 'BS') from across the length of the country. I had been talking to her nearly every am/pm and reassuring her ad-naseum about how 'good' I was, but unconvinced she plodded and pleaded. "tell all to mamma i can feel it here". Given that there is little I can do about biharis and BS, I just need to make friends with Aunt Flo!

Hmm, hows that for a New Year resolution?

PS: Haw-haw, apart from the jolly sound it makes, is also the Hindi term for 'shame-shame'!