Jhola Clutter

What do you carry with you when you go out?

Probably your cell-phone, keys and wallet. And perhaps a jacket, coz it’s cold these days. And if you’re a woman, then add other paraphernalia like lipstick, moisturizer, compact, and so on and so forth.

I carry my jhola. What’s a jhola, you ask?

Ahem...

Leme try.

It’s a sling bag kinda thing that you wear on your shoulder. Something that initially journalists used to carry, and then it started coming in a variety of colors and artwork so it became a huge hit with the teenagers as well. While khadi dominated the scene then, now jholas are mostly found in exquisite Rajasthani prints with chamki (=glitter).

That was the easy part. Now comes the challenge. Describing what it means to me, and unfolding its contents and uses.

My jhola’s an extension of my personality. (Ya, I know I said this blog is also one of those. But you see, everything I do is very ME...) So, my jhola - I can’t live without it. Anywhere I go, my jhola goes with me. For the last 4+ years. Be it Optimos where my colleagues identified me with the chhan-chhan of my anklet and the sparkle of my glittering jhola, or college where I carried a bunch of sheets with a pen to take lengthy Psych notes.

The market’s full of shops and boutiques that sell trendy ladies bags in all colors and sizes. I’m amazed at my Bhabi who recently returned from a shopping spree with a Dalmatian-shaded purse and huge black and gold handbag! Eww... Not my type by a long shot...

Come to think of it, I cannot remember ever having been an out-and-out feminine creature at any point in my life. I have those few recollections when I have enjoyed getting decked up in finery for some occasions and celebrations (like my brother’s wedding for instance, when jeans and tops were forsaken for heavy brocades and expensive silks). But otherwise, ask my friends and colleagues, and they’ll scratch their heads when asked to recall the last time I wore a Punjabi dress.

I’ve always been a tomboy. No nakhras-jhatkas for me. Right from my no-nonsense hairstyle to my clothes to my mannerisms. (That was the case until fairly recently. Then, God knows how and when and why, I changed my ways and started buying more lady-like dresses and acting more womanish. Grew my hair, started wearing earrings. Some crazy hormonal change, I guess... Anyway, I’m not complaining. And from what I can see, no one else is, either!)

But hey, weren’t we talking about my jhola?

Right, so my jhola is my inseparable possession. What’s in it? Well, not much. It holds my purse and keys, my Vaseline lip-balm and comb (leme peep in and check what else...) Uhh... ya, a pen at times, and that’s about it.

Oh! My cell-phone (how can I forget that?!) and maybe a lip-gloss depending on where am headed. And as I ride a bike, it is also big enough to accommodate my jacket and scarf. That’s all.

(That IS all, I said...)

The best part about carrying a jhola is that it’s trendy and practical at the same time. I can wear it diagonally as I walk fast to get someplace, and I can hold it fashionably by the side as I hang out at a coffee bar. When you’re lost among strangers, a jhola gives you the perfect excuse to dive in and search fervidly for nothing at all for a precious 5 minutes. And when you’re trying to act cool, you can finger the strap and just look around...

A jhola NEVER lets you down. Trust me.

The moment I put my hand in my jhola (just about 15 times an hour), you know I’m spinning in the abyss of mystery. On no account can I find what I want. If I’m looking for my cell, out comes my comb, and if I’m searching for my keys, out peeps the Vaseline. It’s basically something like Ali Baba’s potli (did he have one? Or was it someone else? Whatever... I can dimly vision “Potli baba ki” flashing on DD = Doordarshan every Sunday morning. And remember “Gucche” and “Chitrahaar”? Good ol’ days!)

Uh huh... Ranting and digressing again... But the point is, that jhola’s the way to go. You can carry it to work and parties, and you can wear it on jeans and salwars. Jholas look good in pink and yellow, and they also fit into your two-wheeler dickeys with ease. Girls at 10 and women at 40, jholas aren't a burden on the pocket, and neither on your shoulder. In short, I’ve thought it out, and I’ve given it the ISI mark, so go ahead and get one (if you don’t have one already). I think they look better on women, but you guys can get it for your girls and try them in fronta the mirror, just to see if they suit you... (Dunno much about metrosexual and other preferences. No offence.)

Having said that, I must say I need a new jhola, too. My first one from Sarojini Nagar – Delhi gave way to Bhabi’s gift (again from the capital), and now it’s tearing at the seams. Can’t part with it just yet... Washed it the day before coz a stupid attendant at the petrol pump doused it with fuel while filling the tank. Silly bugger...

Have a good week, buddies!
Princess

Thank God for cell-phones (And also the techie guys who actually invented and produced it)

There is no doubt about the fact that I cant live without my cell-phone.

Most people can’t. And especially at my age, it’s the worst nightmare anyone could have. We’re all addicted to it and we’re all loving it.

I have a Motorola L6i (I dunno too much about handsets and functions, but don’t want u to ask me later when I don’t remember the type). I’ve had 3 Nokias before this and a Sony Ericsson, too - a pretty flap one with a shining red Spiderman theme. I used to think Nokia was the best, but I did not find any more or any less trouble with the other brands I’ve used so far. Especially this Moto. It’s sleek and it’s thin, and it has all the functions I need – basically calling and sms, camera, calendar, a few games and radio. (I’m not too much into the multimedia and GPRS and hi-tech stuff, so suits me and my pocket fine.) I’ve had it since last February. No issues. I’ve dropped it into a bucket of water once, I’ve dropped it on the floor much less than my other mobiles, I’ve managed to have not too many scratches on it inspite of not having a cell-cover, and despite carrying it around in my jhola with a million other odds and ends, pointed and sharp and shiny. (But, now I think I ought to get a new one... I’m messing up my reputation of changing my cell-phone very few months and besides, the sound’s not too clear on my Moto...)

I know a lot of people complain that us kiddos and not-so-kiddos are glued to mobile phones. Now obviously, how do you expect us to stay away from the attractive applications in the cell-phone? We’re busy clicking away and ticking away, and when we’re not answering calls, we’re busy making them! It’s as if the person who’s far has come close and the people sitting right next to us are distant. Being at the receiving end quite a few times, I know how irksome and annoying it can be when your companion is busy on the mobile. (But Abba, this does not mean you glare at us when we so much as touch the phone! What when you answer 20 calls in a span of 10 minutes? We don’t grumble then!)

I know cell-phones should be used with prudence and discretion. But I can’t get over my habit of keeping the cell within reach at any time of the day (maybe coz I get lotsa sms and the moment I abandon the phone I miss several calls that I expected when I was holding on to it). At night, the last thing I see without my glasses is my cell for any new msgs, which is also the first thing I see in the morning, sooner than I open my eyes totally. And I also sneak a peek at the mobile screen several times in the dead of night for the same reason. Which cheeses off my parents (or rather used to; they’ve long realized they can’t help it and given up.) I earlier switched off my cell-phone in the night, but lost that habit as I had to be reachable at all times owing to, uh-uh, some reasons...

So, thank God for cell-phones. I don’t know what I’d do without them! Right from keeping me organized to keeping me connected to helping me pass time, my cell has emerged as the next important thing after my Vaseline lip-guard (maybe they tie at the same spot). I make notes in my calendar (Moto calls it datebook), and these range from reminders to pay bills, visit the parlor, buy groceries and stationery, even blog notes! Wise ideas that strike at odd times need to be recorded lest I forget the exact terminology and theme. (Waise I don’t forget things thanks to my excellent memory, but recording them externally helps keep my mind uncluttered and available for more urgent, pressing matters. I don’t exploit or waste my memory; and I value and respect it just like other precious gifts and prized possessions.) I’ve written full-length poems in my datebook application that saves 64 characters per page!

Why do I need to write so much? Well, I want to share my life. The laughs. The tears. The worries. The fears. (Wow! That rhymed!) Basically everything that occurred and was worth a mention. I told ya I’ve been writing Dear Diaries since childhood. Most of it was mundane stuff, chat conversations with friends and lovers, fights with family and hate notes to random folks. Almost all my books have their last couple of pages full of instantaneous scribbles, ideas and plans, short notes and poems. It all adds up to who I am today. Besides, you know how it is with Cancerians and memories. Crabs find hard to let go of people, memories and incidents. Being a Cancer-Leo cusp (a dirty, dirty combination!) you will find a host of things that connect me to my past. And I often take trips down the memory lane. In fact, this blog is precisely one of those endeavors where I can sit back when I’m older and read through all my rants and fantasies. (And your comments and compliments, of course!) But hey, this page will last, right?!!!

I find it extremely irritating when strangers don’t introduce themselves when they call. I mean why do you expect me to know who you are and what you’re talking about when you call me outta the blue and start raving about your last concert?!!! Doubly irritating is it when the caller asks for the identity of the receiver. I mean, hello?!! YOU have called so YOU teme who you are!
The same goes for sms-es without senders’ names. Grrr... I either waste my balance in trying to locate who they are, or I lose my patience and peace of mind in trying to recall who they might be! Simple phone etiquettes are history. I didn’t spare a thought when I read an article that said people no longer say “Hello!” when they answer the phone. I mean, if the caller and receiver know each other and their numbers, then a “Hi” or “Wasup!” is good enough... Or something else more casual and friendly. But this is an absolute no-no for people who call after ages! Guessing games suck!!!

What doesn’t suck are the variety of ringtones and caller-tunes doing the rounds. The baby laughs and songs are no more swanky. But there were a few incredible ones from Airtel and Vodafone that really took the cake. There was this one which says “wrong number, please check” and another where Nana Patekar in his highly imitable style screeches at callers, and another where ... Too many there, and more coming up as we speak...

So, the next time anyone calls me with a “guess whoooooooooo” tune, I’m gona say “boo to youuuuuu” and hang up. Ab aayega mazaaaa ;-) Hehehe...

Adios!
Anuja