lessons from the capital of malaysia.

miss george, edna and matchap already (not listed in order of preference).

12. watching extreme makeover instead of packing bag an hour before train departs singapore is a bluddy fucked up idea.
11. some taxi drivers need to be shot, like the one i called for. instead of helping me catch the train, he was 10 minutes late and gave all kinds of lame excuses. will just walk down the road and grab one of the other cabs in future.
10. F can be rather useful. had bought me much needed mineral water and assisted in changing money for me at my request.
9. remembering that i took the socks out of the drawer for the freezing train ride is not good enough. remembering where in the bag i placed it is more important.
8. bringing ravi’s oversized puma jacket was a bluddy fantastic lesson he had taught me on the last ride back.
7. wearing a saree for someone else is much bluddy fucking easier than it is for self.
6. always put camera in the right bag so you wont end up cursing yourself repeatedly when you grab the other bag.
5. do not step on the pallav of the saree with killer mules.
4. bring portable electric fan when travelling in hinterland malaysia at (what felt like) 40°C insane heat amongst mad drivers who contribute to rising blood pressure and body temperature.
3. do not line lower eyelid with broken eyeliner – looked like panda once i left the arumugam residence and wanted to bury self in hole when entered boutique with mirrors.

2. that if i feel like hugging someone, well, dammit dali, just fucking hug ‘em. even if you think traditional indian culture doesn’t “allow” the future daughter-in-law to be super affectionate.

1. that i know, i know despite myself, i know through episodes of denial that i could never love another the way i love ravi. have newfound respect for man in life, my protagonist, my roborant, my lover, my rock.