14 September 2010
We all have our eccentricities & weird ways. Here are some of mine.
I can’t help but check myself out in the tinted windows of parked cars.
I have to cut nails. It’s one of those things that you are just itching to do. Something very trivial but if you don’t do it, then aapki raatoh ki neend haram ho jayegi kind of stuff. Even if there is a little bit of a nail, I run for my nail cutter. I like cutting nails, not only mine but others also especially Tanvi’s. I can cut it only when she is asleep. Otherwise I have to ‘fight’ with her to be able to cut it. Sathya’s nails are like a giant’s nails, doesn’t come off easily.
I read magazines back to front. I don’t exactly know why I do that. But I’m guessing, maybe, because somewhere I feel it makes me feel like I have read the most important part already & the rest of the mag I can read through at leisure.
I can’t bear seeing some people the way they eat curd rice. It freaks me out no end. They kind of slurp the slimy, white, pasty thing off of their plate & it puts me off completely.
I get a high by cutting hair. If you look at Tanvi’ s old photos, around the time she was 1 or 2 years, you will see the after-effects of my handiwork. For the longest time, she sported this really weird hairdo all thanks to my deft fingers & a pair of scissors.
When I climb up stairs, I place half a foot at a time. This ends up in my high heels getting stuck, & slipping off & me running back to recover them. Embarrassing!
I can’t hold on to my vessels; daily at least one utensil has to fall off my hand, seems pre-ordained. Mother used to explode, “Do you have holes in your hand?” Sathya asks, “toh aaj ka quota ho gaya?”
I hate seeing scenes where they show people brushing their teeth on screen. I immediately close my eyes. Gross
There was a time when I used to eat only the insides of bread & neatly strip & throw away the brown borders of the slices. I have gotten over this & now eat it all. I never eat the insides of an egg.
My feet keep dangling whenever I sit on a slightly elevated stool/chair/table. I can’t sit still. My granny used to scold me saying, shaking feet was a bad thing for girls. When my mother continued the family tradition of chiding me for it, I used to frown back & challenge her, “Let me see what bad will happen. If my brother can shake his feet like a pendulum & God & granny never had a problem with that, no one can stop me either.”
When I drink water, I fill up my mouth & then gulp it down little by little. I can’t swallow it at one go.
As a child, I used to keep potatoes & chicken & fish pieces at the side of my plate. It was reserved to be eaten at the END of the meal. They were ‘precious’ because they were more tasty & fewer to come by & hence could not be accorded the same status as the ever abundant rice or chapattis. It was almost like they were VVIPs and had to be given due respect by being the last ones to be eaten.