Bollywoodized. Fully.

Ever since I have come back from India all that has been exciting me is Bollywood. I am watching Star Gold, Channel V India and Zee Movies. My computer is playing soundtracks from Guru, Salaam-e-Ishq and Kabul Express; I was pretending to be Aishwarya Rai's choreographer for Tere Bina in my room; I watched Kabhi Al Vida Na Kehna yesterday and all I want to do now, is watch Guru.

What's happening to me? I used to be allergic to Bollywood. I used to consider it a waste of time and brain activity; only rarely enjoying offbeat Indian cinema. Now I'm loving all the jhatkas and matkas, dancing around the bushes and the cheesy dialogues AND I can sit through an entire 3-hour movie!

Actually, come to think of it - this always happens to me when I get back from India. Perhaps it is patriotism sprouting from my subconscience all of a sudden after being locked away for so long.

I mean, all of a sudden I am checking out sari blouse designs of Susmita Sen because I want similar ones. I think I even told my parents the other night not to worry as I will probably land up spending my life with an Indian man. Not that I know any one that I fancy...but just an expression of this thought is playing shehnai in my mum's ears and my dad cannot wipe a grin off his face.

Scary huh.

It does happen!

A little bit of perseverance and scouting out good yet approachable sources when you are a beginner, can get you published! Managed to get an article featured on UK's TravelMag website - take a look here!

Formentera in Mediterranean Spain and Abha Malpani has a cunning plan. Cut costs by dossing where she can. Hardly a formula for a quiet weekend away but a succession of strange men with homes of their own provide a vivid insight into island life.

So encouraging!

Losers and jerks only?

There is a guy I know from the dance floor. He is one of those who are only tolerable in very small doses. He stands roughly at 4 foot 9, so when he dances in close hold with me, my chin is on his head. He is bald with a pot belly. He spells minutes - manuites - and although he dances well, likes to be spanked while dancing (please do not ask me to elaborate). I have nothing against him, but a conversation of any sense is practically impossible with him and he seems perpetually desperate.

So he calls me last night, completely out of the blue and this is how the conversation goes:

Guy: Hi sweety! how are you babe? where have you been? why don't I see you these days, I miss you!

Me: Hey! yeah I've been busy with guests in town.

Guy: Ok, so when am I going to see you?

Me: Guess I'll see you Thursday on the dance floor, right?

Guy: Well, I was hoping you would see me not only on the dance floor.

Me: (silent)

Guy: How about a candlelight dinner, some drinks, followed by a conversation of sweet nothings, dancing and then my place.

Me: (silent)

Guy: (silent)

Me: And what do you have planned for your place?

Guy: DVD's ofcourse!

Me: Ofcourse.

Guy: Come on Abha, you are single, I am single - why can't we get to know each other better?

I was truly hoping he was taking the piss, but turns out he wasn't. Now when you are not at all interested, and somebody so bluntly has this conversation with you - what do you say?

I landed up laughing it off and saying that I will put him on the list of people who 'want to get to know me more', and when his turn comes I will call him. Yeah, conceited and stupid - but do you have a smartypant yet polite way to answer that?

My spontaneous thought to this was - freak, get off my back, it's never going to happen, you are a loser. However, my post conversation thought was: sure he was trying his luck, why shouldn't he, and at least he has the guts to be so upfront and direct about it. When was the last time that happened to me? I don't think it ever has.

Now, the fact that whatever happens to me (like the above), happens with guys I want nothing to do with, ever, is more of a burst in confidence than boost and is a different story all together. It always leaves me wondering: why are the losers the ones who always try to get with me?

Sometimes I feel like I have a sign stuck to my forehead that says: losers and jerks only. *sigh*

Book Review: Bird by Bird - Instructions on Writing and Life

220 odd pages later, I sit here and write rather rejuvenated about the whole process of being a writer, any sort of writer. Bird by Bird - written by Anne Lamott is a pure, soulful, deep yet incredibly funny and informative book on the art of writing and living a full life.

As self-helpy and therapeutic as that sounds, that is not how it reads. She doesn't give you lectures or tells you what to do and how. You don't feel like you are a loser reading this book because you are lost and desperately need direction. She just tells you everything she knows about being a writer in the most raw and crude, yet inspiring manner.

She makes you want to reach deep down inside of you and write; turning yourself inside out in the process. She touches on every emotion you feel at every stage of writing - from writer's block, to writing shit, to feeling fucked six ways (her words) to the elation of completing a piece and getting published.

The whole book is also filled with moving anecdotes from her life and other peoples lives. If I could throw a penny for each time I read a line and felt overwhelmed, I'd be bankrupt.

One of the many thoughts in this book:

'Writing and life are like driving in the dark. You may know where you are going, but you can't see past the headlights.'

A must read for anyone who writes, or wants to write.

New Guardian Travel Site

Some new features, a blog, podcasts and tonnes of travel stories and resources for us vagabonds, the Guardian's new Travel Site is revamped and lookin' good!

Under your skin

Every once in a few years I meet someone who has the ability to get under my skin. Someone who's effect on me is so profound that it leaves me with a knot in my stomach, perpetually confused - not understood.

Always a man, something as little as two words can do everything from giving me a pounding headache to making me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet.

I can get nervous when he calls and I will stutter when I speak. An sms from him can give me goosebumps and a hug feels warm and tingly. His authority over me and huge ego makes me hate him most the time. An abrupt conversation can leave me lost in thoughts for days.

I want to doubt him and his motives so I can keep distant but it doesn't work. He knows how to play with my mind, I can just hope it is unintentional.

I have deep respect for him, perhaps that and his raw charisma is why I surrender to his controls. There is relief when he is gone, but a desperate desire to hear from him when he is around. He is unpredictable, dangerous, incredibly intelligent, narcissistic and unavailable.

This isn't a love story, far from that infact. Beyond it - almost transcendental. The line of friendship (if that's what it can been called) hasn't been crossed and never will as the result will be my own self-destruction - or mutilation rather.

I hate to admit that I enjoy being under this convoluted spell. Besides, I don't know how to repel it. Perhaps I don't want to.

THE wedding

You know when you see a wedding in a Bollywood movie, you think - wow that looks awesome. And then you think, ofcourse - it's a movie and that's what weddings look like in movies. Well, the wedding I recently attended in Mumbai would give Bollywood movies a run for their money.

There were about 30 mehndi (henna) putting ladies, clothes made of fresh flowers, gold studded dresses, 1-carat diamond jewellery, 95 performers for the sangeet (the dance night before the wedding), and over 3000 people including a bunch of filmstars and politians.

Hospitality is a big deal in Indian weddings, almost a competitive ground for being talked about.
From the minute I checked into the club I was staying at, to the moment I left, every need of mine was taken care of. I could have ordered male strippers with marshmellows and I would have got them.

A tray of Indian food, fruit and gifts was in my room when I arrived, with a personal welcome letter from the family. It informed me of the programme, a car and driver I had at my service for the three days, and gave me a list of contact numbers should I need anything - from wanting to shop, to visiting the zoo or to sorting out my departure flight details.

The wedding was of the sister of my best friend in India - someone I have known since I was 10. Since we had grown up together, alot of friends were common so the wedding served as a 10 year reunion aswell. I met a whole bunch of classmates and lagori buddies I hadn't seen since I left school - all with their second halves (wive's/husbands) and some with little ones. Was like everyone had moved on with their lives and I was stuck in a time-warp.

The nerds had blossomed, the once-upon-a-time dunce hat guys had become happening DJ's, the hot ones looked hotter and the juniors had become adults who worked in investment banks and participated in Gladrags competitions. But the best thing was, the old bond remained. We were all so delighted to see each other, it was as if we had been in touch all along. Also met a friend I knew from Dubai, who I hadn't met since he left the emirates 3 years ago; he happened to be a close friend of the groom. Never would I have imagined bumping into him at this wedding. A jaw-dropping though great blast from the past.

Met a whole bunch of new people at the wedding aswell. A lot of warm crazy people who knew how to have fun. One of the guys did catch my eye, but I don't think I caught his. Story of my life!

We all departed from the wedding with vows to keep in touch and open invitations to each others houses. Hopefully it will not be after another 10 years.

Resolutions and Wishes 2K7

Resolutions

Read more: A book every two months, atleast. (Knowledge is power bla bla)

Finish the books I begin to read: Last year I started to read 9 books, didn't finish any

Write. And write. Anything.

Get one piece of travel writing published.

Quit chocolate: I think it is the cause of my regular bursts of acne.

Stop doubting myself: Need to have more belief in myself and what I can do. Need to stop depending on others for that boost.

Get a job I actually like: Hmmm.

Finish the journalism correspondence course from the London School of Journalism that I started over 7-months ago.

Be certified in Spanish.

Stop wondering too much about what when how why and where.

Run at least 3-times a week.

Meditate.

Wishes:

Do the Inca Trail in Peru.

Go to the Dominican Republic.

Audition to be a VJ on Channel V.

Fall in love.

Not have random wishes so that I can concentrate on my resolutions.

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Wish you a wonderful 2007.

Exhausted

7 days and 37 family members later, I am both mentally and physically exhausted. After a holiday in India, you always need another holiday.

Today am off to a 3-day, 3-functions-a-day wedding where I will be glamming myself up 3-times a day to fit in. Hope to meet atleast 5 dozen people I haven't seen for over 5 years. Should be awesome.

My mum (just as all Indian mothers with 26 year old daughters attending a marriage) is hoping I will meet the Indian man of my dreams at this wedding so that I stop changing my country of residence every 6 months. She has blatantly given me strategies to accomplish this in the 3 day period, and I am afraid she is going to be disappointed.

Hope everyone had a super Christmas, I certainly did even though it was full of chicken masala tikka and a lethal concoction of hard liquor rather than stuffed turkey and wine.

Stay tuned.

Hope Floats

Sharnam Girl Shelter, Mumbai
"Didi didi namaste! come and watch our dance practise, we are going to perform tomorrow at the Lion's Club, will you come to watch us?', said Roshni, 5-years old who lived in one of the girl's shelters I went to visit yesterday.

After sleeping at Bombay Central Train Station for over 3 years, Roshni was one of 30 girls picked up off the street and given a home and education by Bombay based NGO Sharnam. She had a smile on her face, hope in her eyes - so happy to see me - a stranger who decided to pass by.

Mother and Child Welfare Society, Rajgurunagar, Pune
We visited 4 of 29 villages in the outskirts of Pune. Each village had a population between 1000-3000 people, so poor that they couldn't even afford to have bathrooms. They survived off their land, ate their hand grown vegetables, sold them when they could, drank their cow's milk, built their own houses.

The non-governmental organisation we went with worked with these villages and provided them with all sorts of support possible: infrastructure and development support, vocational training, medical services and computer training.

We visited a sewing class of about 30 girls who were learning to tailor clothes. They believed things could change for them, they believed they could contribute towards that change.

SUPPORT, Mumbai

The Society Undertaking Poor People's Onus for Rehabilitation looked after about 100 street kid's who were druggies, addicted to everything from sniffing glue to brown sugar. The organisation picked them off the street, gave them shelter, worked on their detoxification and rehabilitation.

"Most these kids have poor, broken or abusive families. Their parents are mostly alcoholics or drug addicts. They are emotionally wounded and disturbed children, difficult to handle," said Sujata Gunega, who has been running the organisation for over 16 years. "They don't believe that anyone wants to help them, but once they do - the response is phenomenal. The process unfortunatley can take 5-6 years."

-----------

The last few days have been enlightening and moving to say the least. As much as I have always been grounded, meeting these children shook that ground a bit. Put my life into perspective.

All the money and comforts you have all of a sudden seemed frivolous; almost embarrassing to have. A good job, your client's PR plan, your ambitions, your 'uncertain future', all suddenly seemed like bollocks. Realising that you can make a difference just by shaking their hand or telling these kids a story was overwhelming.

These kids were all full of hope. The most important thing that these organisations do is to give them just that.

Feeling what I felt and realising how easy it is to make a difference has put my thinking cap back on. What will I do about it? Sadly, I still do not know.

Conveyor Belt Chaos

Arrived at Mumbai airport yesterday around 4am. Nice airport! still work-in-progress but pretty neat. My thoughts were reaffirmed when I saw the toilets. 3 Clean squat toilets and 3 clean western toilets - with toilet paper! I couldn't believe it.

As much as India is a stable economy, developing very fast, has the youngest educated youth population, it's a certain mentality of the masses that sometimes gets the better of me when I go to India.

For instance: I go to the conveyor belt to get my bag. Now everyone has got there way before me as they went running to the belt. Why do you need to run? your bags aren't going anywhere. So ofcourse I fall into the unprivileged lot who didn't make it to the first row around the belt, so I have to stand in the 3rd row - the second row had the trolleys of the people in the first row. Fine, I will just wait here till it clears a bit, I think.

The people in the previliged first row stand so close to the belt, that their knees get scraped by the large bags on the belt, they get pushed behind, so their trolleys get pushed behind, so they fall onto their trolleys and knock out the people in the 3rd row. Nobody will move their trolleys! It's like the bag has to go straight onto the trolley.

''Excuse me, can you move your trolley to the side please,", I say politely with a smile.

"It's not mine," he replies. And then I notice, the guys in the 1st row getting their bags are actually walking past the trolleys to another trolley kept considerably away from the belt. Who's trolleys are they?! If they are not the 1st row's, why are they there and why isn't anyone moving them?

Anyway, I move the one infront of me aside so I can be the only lucky one in the 2nd row with the trolleys.

In about 5-minutes I got pushed into the first row-which was a whole different story. People were so close together they couldn't even face the belt and even if one of them had an itch, his movement bothered the whole line.

10 minutes into waiting, people were complaining because they couldn't see their bags yet, and you had atleast 5 people trying to change their place in the line. They wanted to see where else their bag could be on the conveyor belt - maybe they missed it (ofcourse they didn't realise that the belt moves, so if they missed it the first time, I would come around to them again). This meant that they had to push through the trolley row and the 3rd row, and come back into the 1st row the same way.

What chaos man. Nobody was helping each other and the looks that were happening between people were lethal. I felt like standing on the conveyor belt and shouting out ' guys! your bags aren't going anywhere, and nobody wants your bags, so just chill out and wait for your bags!'

Finally when my bag came, when I pulled it off the belt I must have hurt atleast 3 people.

Ok I know I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill, but seriously whatever happened to a bit of etiquette at the conveyor belt!

Going to India

Off to India tomorrow to see family and attend a friends wedding.

I love going to India, and always have a blast when I'm there. However, a few days before I go - I always have a heavy head and get into a foul mood. I really do not know why.

Perhaps I get overwhelmed by this sense of belonging and not-belonging at the same time.

I am buggered that although I am Indian, I have to be very careful with the food and water in India. Particularly because one year I came home with jaundice, and the next I came home with typhoid. This means that all the road side crap that I love will be out of reach - no pani-puri, no green chutney, no bhel, no Haji-Ali fresh juice. Sucks.

It's weird - I had no problems when I was in Thailand. Didn't take any shots and ate everything, everywhere.

I am going to get hassled by every other person about when I am getting married and why I want to live in Spain. Once asked that here I said I will get married in Spain. Turned out to be a satisfactory answer that didn't call for more questions or explanations - will stick to that.

I always get alot of gossip when I go to India: Dr.Patel's daughter ran away with her driver, Priyanka has a gambling problem and lost all her money in the slots, Vikram now has a zoo in his house, Kapil's marriage broke-off because he was secretly in love with his best friends wife...etc.

Other wise blogging, dancing, reading, watching Bollywood movies, and catching up with people is the plan.

*Sigh*

So now size doesn't matter?

Condoms too 'big' for Indian men - this article on BBC yesterday made me laugh.
In a two-year study carried out by the Indian Council of Medical Researh, apparently 60% of Indian men have their thing 3-5cm shorter than international standards.

However, Sunil Mehra, editor of men's magazine Maxim, surely cushioned the egos of many men in India by saying:

"It's not size, it's what you do with it that matters," he said. "From our population, the evidence is Indians are doing pretty well. "

Hilarious. BBC rocks.

It's just money, get over it

Bangalore based journalist Suresh Menon is one of my favourite columnists. I read nothing in Friday magazine other than his piece that comes every week on the second last page.

This week he touched upon a never-ending subject of discussion and argument:
"Money cannot buy happiness, but neither can happiness buy money."

He quotes a philosopher in his article (unsure who), who captures what we think of people who have money and those who don't, so correctly it's terrifying. He says:

"If a man runs after money, he is money mad; if he keeps it, he is a capitalist; if he doesn't get it, he is dismissed as useless; if he doesn't try to get it, he lacks ambition; if he gets it without working for it, he is a parasite; and if he accumulates it after a lifetime of hard work, he is called a fool who never got anything out of life."

We always hear - money cannot buy happiness; but in his article he talks about a study where it has been proved that those who earn $150,000 a year are happier than those who earn $40,000 a year. That it is better to be rich and happy than poor and intelligent, and that, just like Albert Camus said, it is a kind of spiritual snobbery that makes people think they can be happy without money.

These thoughts relate to the reactions I get when I tell people I have quit my job and will have no stable income, or atleast no high income, for the next year or so because I am following a dream where money isn't the end.

Have we really reached that stage where money and happiness are interchangeable?

Book Review: The Inheritance of Loss

82-pages and I cannot take it anymore. 2006 Booker prize winner The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai was the inheritance of misery to say the least.

The writing is painfully poetic. The sentences are badly constructed and 5-lines long. They are full of big words, and so witless - not to mention pointless - that you loose focus and then wonder what she is going on about. She has tried too hard to be funny by using Hinglish frequently which hasn't worked at all; and everything is irrelevantly over-described, be it Pond's Cold Cream, mist over a mountain or the illegal yellow paint on the taxi of an Indian taxi driver in New York. Goodness gracious me.

The characters are the most boring characters I can remember. 50-pages into the book and even if one of the characters physically jumped out of the book and put a feather under my nose, I wouldn't react.

The Grandfather Indian judge in the book is a pretentious miserable old prat. His Grandaughter Sai is this innocent rabbit of a girl with no personality. The cook who is the servant of the house - poor guy hasn't even been given a name until now. Biju, the cook's son who has gone to NY to live the American dream is tolerable, but just about.

The stories of these characters that run in parallel so far have no coherence and do not link in any intelligent way. Unimaginative and annoying characters (with even more annoying names) like Uncle Potty (translate:Uncle Shit), and Major Aloo (Major Potato) and Father Booty (!?) keep coming in and out randomly with no purpose.

Man!

I had promised myself that I would finish the book before I rape it's review, but reading further just seems like a waste of time. To my utter disappointment, most other reviews on Amazon have limitless praise for this book - except this one from a dude who also thought it was awful but atleast finished it.

How on earth did she get a Booker?

Material World

Was driving home this morning and landed up listening to this segment on radio where callers who have/had an obsession with an item called and shared their manic sentiments about material desires. A few examples of what I heard:

"My IMATE phone - I used half my month's salary and borrowed money from my parents to get this phone."

"Kinetic Honda- I scored 90% in my exams, went to a college that I didn't choose just to get this bike."

"Jimmy Choo Shoes - After seeing them on Sex and the City, my mind was so set on them, I couldn't sleep at night until I got them."

"Armani Sun Glasses - I wanted these shades so much that I borrowed some money from a friend to get them. I cannot remember feeling so happy like I did then."

And, ofcourse, once these guys got what they wanted - they didn't want it anymore. Human incoherence.

As much as it was really pathetic to hear these people share these stories, and even more pathetic that the radio station gave this so much air time; there was a certain amusement factor that kept me listening.

Anyway, made me wonder what I loose sleep over / or have lost sleep over, that I wanted so desperately I would kill for.

Not a thing came to my mind.

Not understanding how this is possible, and pushing the thought further I realised that the one thing I remember being crazy to have was Michael Jackson's first autobiography 'Moonwalk'. I was 8.

It was 9 English Pounds. With pocket money of 2.50 a month, it took me a good 6-months to obtain.

But in the last 18-years, there is nothing else I lost sleep over because I didn't have.

....


Wow I must be really liberated.

Thought for the day

'Foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds' - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Married Men

Some of my closest guy friends are married. No, ALL my close guy friends are married. I seem to land up spending more time with them (without their wives), than with my single guy friends.
No matter which part of the world I have lived in, no matter what state of mind I have been in, no matter what stage of my life - they have been there.

No, there is nothing other than friendship between us, and cross-my-heart-hope-to-die I have never had (and never will have) an illicit relationship with a married man. Why would I want to put myself through that agony anyway? No vale la pena. Ex-girlfriends are pains enough, let alone having a wife in the picture.

We get along like a house on fire, we can laugh together, we can talk for hours and we can tolerate seeing each other more than a few times a week. It's just a cool sence of platonic belonging - like with any friend.

'Beta, you will never find a man if you always hang out with married men,' is what my mum keeps saying with a tone of resignment. Like I'm wasting my time with these guys. But find me a single man who I connect with in the same way and I will surely reassess the division of my time.

They just don't exist. Yes, the time has come when I have to say - all the happening men are married, some even have kids.

Perhaps it has got to do with sex. When you hang out with a single man - spend a lot of time, all he is hoping for from you is some fun in the bedroom.

With married men, sure they want sex too - but not necessarily from you. So your relationship automatically goes to another level where sex is not in the principal picture, and other things - the things that last - like humour, respect, care and just being, rule the relationship.

Ok, I'm single and ready to mingle, but why are these married guys hanging out with me? Other than the binding mental connection and understanding we have, I think it's the safety factor.

These guys have been my friends for anything between 4-10 years. If something was to happen between us, it would have happened by now, and the fact that it hasn't, asserts a sense of safety in their minds when they hang out with me. Like they can hang out, be themselves and enjoy some female company without being worried of any uncomfortable circumstances or consequences.

It's weird but I'd be inconsolably upset if any of these men had to take an exit from my life.

I wonder how it will be when I get married? (if I get married) I think I'd be totally fine if my husband had a close female friend, because I totally believe that a guy and a girl can just be friends. Afterall, I'm a standing example.

Have I lost the plot?

A 6-month break in Spain, 4 well paying job offers in Dubai on the table, yet all I can think of is moving back to Spain and writing. Have I lost the plot?

A good friend of mine thinks I'm afraid of getting back to a job here, because I think I will like it and get sucked back in, and then not go to Spain again.

Friends are getting promoted, traveling the world business class for work, investing in houses, climbing their career success ladders, driving BMW's.

I quit that life and am learning Spanish. Why? Because that's what I want to do. Why? It's fun. What will I do with the language? no friggin' clue.

I have a bit of money in the bank, and I believe that if you are educated, have common sense and a drive - money will always come in. My objective in life is not to own a Ferrari, or have a house on the beach, or to be a CEO, I just want to live life to the fullest.

People spend all their lives working their asses off, saving money for later. For when exactly? What about now, when we are young, free and kicking? It's not like we will be on the street if we do what we want now, right?

I guess it all depends on what you want from your life.

It's difficult for me to get a good job in Spain. Mainly because I'm not fluent in Spanish yet, and nor am I an EU citizen. Work permits and visa regulations put alot of red tape, which if I get through - I wouldn't even earn 1/4th of what I might get paid here.

So why am I leaving this comfortable job-in-hand haven to live a completely unpredictable and unstable life?

Does it scare me? No. Do I doubt my confidence? Sometimes.

My 4-years in the corporate communications world were fulfilling. And though I still have a lot to learn, the thought of getting back into it - especially in Dubai - is repulsive to me.

If I can afford to do what I want to for another year or so, why shouldn't I?

If people can make a living, living abroad and writing - why can't I?

Nothing I have written has been published yet. This could take years. Often I loose my confidence and this little voice inside me says, Abha get real - you had your 6-months of fun in Spain, now get back to reality. Get a job and focus on your 'career'. Today was one of those days when all I did was read success stories of people who have done what I want to, and have succeeded.

If you don't try, you will never know. This is what I want to do.

Living abroad, traveling, learning a new language, writing, teaching English does not equal being a bum.

*sigh*

All I know is that if I give up now - I will regret it....

Have I lost the plot?

White Lies

I hate people who lie and I hardly ever lie. But I totally believe in white lying. Lying about something stupid, to avoid hurting a person. Eg. A friend spends $$$ on a T-shirt with a donkey on it. He loves it, you think it's really sad - a true waste of money. When he asks you what you think, you say 'cool man'.

Another example: a very good friend in town keeps calling you to go out. You have seen her over 4 times in the same week, and yet the calls keep coming. You love her company and enjoy hanging out, but today you just don't have the ganas. Try telling her that you don't feel like seeing her today and hurt her, or instead, say that you have diarrhea. Works beautifully. She doesn't feel bad, you get to do whatever you want.

You might say, a lie is a lie is a lie. But when you lie about trivial things, to avoid complications and unnecessary misunderstandings - it's a white lie and it's ok.

I rather white lie and not do something, than do something under obligation. You hardly ever enjoy doing things you really don't want to, so what's the point.

A friend is getting married next month in a small village in India. We were good friends in school and our families are friends too - but I have hardly seen him over the last 10 years. As much as his wedding would probably be fun and a trip down memory lane, for me it involves taking an overnight train, bus and taxi after I get to Bombay; there is nobody else I really need to see in that village. The wedding is four days - no way am I spending 4-days out of 12 there, and going for one day just doesn't make sense.

He totally thinks I'm coming. I've told him 'I'm trying to get a flight to make it, it's difficult as it's peak season, but I'm pulling some strings.'

Before you jump to conclusions: in Indian weddings there are normally over 500 people. Tables aren't booked by name of person attending and no per-head money is lost. The bride and groom are so occupied doing the 1001 rituals over the four days that you would be lucky to get more than a 'hey so good to see you' and a hug. So, no love is lost.

I'm very happy for him and wish him the best from the bottom of my heart. If it was more convenient and I had a bit more time, I'd go. If he'd understand my simple reasoning, I'd tell him the truth but he wouldn't, and probably never speak to me for the rest of his life. So there you go, I white lied again.

I guess it's just easier to white lie sometimes. And as long as your intentions are good and heart is clean, I really think it's ok.