Behind the Smile

Present Tense

2011-11-25T13:14:00.005+05:30

First it was the Indian festival season, now there is the wedding season and soon it will be the Western festival season. What is common between all of them? Gifts. And of course shopping too, but that makes for another story.

How do you pick a gift? Seriously, how? Of all the social customs, I find this is to be the toughest. It isn't even something which you get better at with age (as if there is anything like that, other than the record for the longest cough). It was so much more easier when we were kids, when our parents would pick the gift. And the choices too, so many! I mean any thing that you don't possess, gifted by someone else classifies as a good gift, when you are small ("oh wow! a shiny ball of yarn!").

But now, there are so many conditions that you have to follow!

The most important one - put some thought into it. Easier said than done. Whatever happened to just stuffing some cash into an envelope and giving it away? I find that to be very thoughtful, it involves so many thoughts! You thought of going to the ATM, you thought of buying an envelope (or reusing an existing one, I am not judging) and most importantly, you thought of not wasting their space and your money on something which they will anyway gift away to someone else, in case they don't like it! How much more thoughtful can you get!
Gender specific - oh boy this is a toughie! As kids, when you were invited to a birthday party, all your parents had to do was rush to the nearest store which sold toys and pick one. As simple as that. Sure there were some stereotypes followed - like girls got the dolls and guys got the balls (pun unintended), but hey, it never hurt anyone, did it? This was before the times of political correctness. But now what do you do? Books are the most gender neutral gifts but then again, how many people read these days? Even if they do, how many appreciate a book as a gift? (Refer to the above point about thoughtfulness of the gift)
The budget - something that not only tests your math skills, but also your memory. Jot down these questions in case you are weak in this particular area. "What did I get from them last time?", "What did they gift others in a similar situation?", "How much do I earn?", "How much do they earn?", "Will this be an individual gift or will I be pooling in with other people?" and finally the most important one - "How much do I like them?" Your final budget is the sum of all these figures multiplied by Pi and divided by the number of years of your life left, after going through the mental agony of thinking of these answers.
The occasion - broadly classified into birthdays, wedding and miscellaneous. What comes under the miscellaneous category, you ask? A: Anniversaries, Farewells, Promotions, House warming ceremony, naming ceremony - basically the events that you would attend only in case of a gun being pointed to your head or the person in question being a blood relative/someone very close to you. The festivals are easier, at least for us Indians (not into business) - a box of sweets or dry fruits, depending on the occasion. Among the rest, I consider birthdays to be the most important - it comes every year and is a judge of what kinda relationship you have with the gifter-giftee. Thoughtful and expensive - consider marriage; non existent or lame and recycled - consider divorce.

I am sure I have left out many small details which are a part of the procedure of selecting a gift. For example the protocol for giving flowers - roses/ lilies/ garbera? Or the corporate (read useless) gifts - pen stand/ photo frame / coffee mug? Or the timeless dilemma that boggles all new home owners - "What the hell are we going do with all these clocks?" This gift giving business is hard!

P.S.: Now do you see the usefulness of the cash-in-envelope gift?

Up, up and away

2011-11-14T19:11:00.002+05:30

I envy Superman. Not because he has superpowers, not for his flashy lifestyle (pun unintended) and definitely not for his dorky glasses and terrible hairstyle. I envy him for the opportunity he had, to break free. To break free of the life he knew, the life he grew accustomed to, the life that bound him to his planet.

There comes a point, sometimes once in a blue moon and at other times all too frequently, that you want that for yourself. It is not necessarily when you are sad, it is not a form of escapism. It is just a new life. To start afresh. To cut all old ties and start all over.

To go to a new place, a place where no one knows you, where you can be whoever you want. Because the whole world can tell you to be yourself, but you know within your heart that you would give anything to not be that person, if only for a short while.

When I say go to a new place, I don't mean it in the tourist kinda way. That doesn't help. That is just a form of distraction, and helps only to get away from other people. What I mean is when you want to get away from yourself.

Where you can be the person who can't take a decision, the fool, the vagrant or even the enlightened, the wise. Doesn't matter. As I said earlier, the person you want to be, not the person you are. Where people don't expect anything from you because they don't know you. Where you don't have to smile at someone because you are expected to. You can choose to be the unsocial recluse or you can choose to be the extrovert.

Where you can choose. Where you have a choice.

Cut, snip, complain

2011-11-11T11:36:00.003+05:30

I made my regular trip to the salon recently. First of all, let me tell you how difficult it is for me to find a place I like. I know for a fact that I am very choosy and particular about most of the things in life, and a hairdresser is one of them. Initially, during school-college days, it would be the beauty parlour closest to my house. Of course things changed when I started earning. Too much money to waste, you see.

I have somewhat thick, yet light, frizzy, wavy hair, so those of you blessed with beautiful, naturally straight and shining tresses can stop reading this blog and GO AWAY! Based on my hair type, it is very difficult to find and stick to a hairstyle that a. actually looks good b. stays the same way after the setting by the salon is washed away.

After much hunting, searching in the last five years, I finally seem to have found a place that meets my criteria - well ventilated, smells nice, is clean, and has people who don't feel obliged to make random small talk (see what I mean by being choosy?). Of course it meets my budget too; for someone who goes for a cut once in 3 months, spending what I spend seems OK (subject to argument).

OK if you are thinking that this is a plug/promotion for some salon, then you are wrong. If you are thinking that this is pointless banter over a topic as trivial as my hair, then you are right. This has got nothing to do with any political/social topic of interest. Go now and live free. Back to the topic, then.

After all that drama over the right salon you would expect me to be happy, right? Wrong. I now move on to what irks me about these hairdressers. I go in, anticipating the wonderful washing of hair, followed by a hair cut. I do get the wonderful hair wash but what comes next always takes me by surprise, even after all this time. The criticism. This is how it goes:

Hairdresser (HD) : *flips the wet hair*

HD: *runs his fingers through the wet hair*

HD: *runs a wide toothed comb through the wet hair*

HD: *sigh* Which shampoo do you use?

me: *gulp*

It does not matter which shampoo you use. You can spend half your earnings on the shampoo/conditioner and your hairdresser will still be unimpressed. There has to be some problem with it. I personally think that they undergo this training, along with learning the various techniques of holding hair between their fingers before cutting it. The various things that I get to hear ranges from "your hair is too dry, change your shampoo", "you have hair fall, change your shampoo", "your hair appears dull, change your shampoo", etc.

Has it ever occurred to you, dear hairdresser, that I might not have so many problems if you would just let me stick to one freaking shampoo? And with that, my self esteem shattered, the happy hairdresser proceeds to give me a magnificent cut, which my broken soul laps up eagerly. The End.

P.S.: changed the feed option; should now appear in full on reader.

Bollywood Wishlist

2011-07-24T20:20:00.003+05:30

Watching some awards ceremony on tv took me back to the time when as a kid I would look at the heroines on screen and wish I would own the dress they wore, as flamboyant as it may be.

1. Kimi Katkar in Hum:
I don't even remember how old I was when I watched the movie "Hum". I have definitely not watched it in the theater for sure. Maybe it was on cable, back when the cable guy would print out the schedule of pirated movies he would show during the coming week/month. Anyway, back to the dress. Oh how I yearned it! The frills, the colour, the heels, the whole do! If I can remember it so well to this day, it must have had some impact right? I also remember promising myself that one day when I start earning I will buy such a dress for myself. Umm. Yeah. It's a good thing it's not on paper.

2. Madhuri Dixit in Khalnayak:

OK stop laughing. This has nothing to do with the song. Seriously. Stop. This was lehenga-choli at it's best! I did own a very typical Rajasthani lehenga-choli set but for obvious reasons it was not even close to the one shown above. *Sulks*. Backless back, shells hanging, mirror embellishments, white bangle thingies upto the biceps as accessories - loved it all! Yes, the stomach baring would have been a bit too much but hey, such wishes aren't meant to be practical, are they?

3. The long frocks:

They say the 90s was the worst phase of Bollywood. All the good singers were dying or dead, the good actors were getting too old, there were too many horribly done south indian remakes and let's not even go near the so called fashion sense in the movies back then. But hey, I liked it. For all you know the things that we wear today will be the object of ridicule tomorrow. That's how it works. So back then, the puffy sleeves, high waist jeans, the leggings with long T shirts and of course the long frocks were the rage. My favourite happens to be the one Madhuri Dixit wears in HAHK. A close second is Juhi Chawla's in Hum Hain Rahi Pyaar Ke. Atrocious, I know.

I am trying to think which movies/trends/dresses interest me now. But I just can't seem to put my finger on it. I guess nostalgia is the best reminder.

Preview

2011-06-27T14:13:00.001+05:30

The problem with taking a break is getting back to the routine after the break. Hi, I am Captain Obvious. The break that I refer to is the break I took from blogging. I didn't even realise that the break became the routine. I have no one to blame, no excuses to give. It took a backseat because I let it.

This isn't a grand "Hey kids, look who's back!" blog. This is just me, rambling on as usual. Because you know what, that's what it was to me. Before life caught up and changed my world in a million little ways. But I want to write again. I wrote before blogging became THE THING and now I want to write much after blogging isn't THE THING. It's much more fun this way.

You write, people read if they are interested, most of them ignore it, some leave a comment or two, you write again. No one wins, no one loses. There are no comment wars, there is no one upmanship. It isn't something you do to put on your profile, it isn't something you do to get those hits, to go up on Google's search index, to be featured in some lame column of a dying newspaper trying hard to keep up with the drastic changes in technology and lifestyle.

This is me, blogging once again. And boy, it feels good! Also, yay! on my 90th post. :)

P.S.: Thanks to my current joblessness, I'm pretty sure I can keep up this break-from-the-routine-that-was-meant-to-be-a-break for some time at least. Let's hope so.

Of pensive babies and mickey mouse

2010-09-23T18:23:00.003+05:30

I have no freaking clue why people here in HK are so freaking OBSESSED with Mickey Mouse. Yes, they don't just like that silly cartoon character, they obsess over it. Mickey Mouse is on bags, tshirts, caps, suitcases, plates, spoons, u name it, and they will have Mickey Mouse over it. WHY? As I said, no freaking clue. Sure, there is a Disney Land here, but the merchandise I am talking about isn't even "official". Even 50+ yr old women wear it on their clothes. Madness I tell you!

There are two things very unique here - dogs and babies. I have put these two in the order of my liking.

Dogs: It may not apply to all localities but where I live, you can find dogs of all sizes, shapes, colours and softness. They love dogs as much(if not more) as their kids. They carry them around like babies, run with them, clothe them in weird attire and generally fuss over them. How is that different from pet owners around the world? Here, they prefer dogs of smaller stature so that they can carry them around in bags. You see a lady with an open handbag and you know that there is a living thing inside. Sure enough, it pops its head out and looks at you like you are the one in a weird mode of transportation.

They also train their dogs to perfection. Sometimes when the dog forgets its "etiquette's" and barks at you, the owner will apologise like it was the greatest sin ever committed. It's a treat to watch these little creatures and their mannerisms. I would absolutely love to own one (not just any one of them, I have my sight and heart set on a particular one - my Takiya). Sigh.

Then there are the babies. What is the deal with them here! You see a baby and your first expectation is for it to start bawling in a while. I mean come on, they are babies, that's what they are supposed to do. Hungry-> cry -> full -> poop -> cry -> thirsty ->cry ->full -> pee ->cry. It is a vicious cycle of needs and crying. But not here. First of all the babies here look freakishly pensive. They look like there is a lot on their mind; always in deep thought, as if solving the deep mysteries that have troubled mankind since the dawn of civilization. Then there is the fact that they don't cry. EVER. You see umpteen number of women with strollers. But you never see a woman with a baby that is crying. The baby just sits there. Still. Silent. Not crying. Blinking. Staring. F.R.E.A.K.Y!

How do they even do it? Is there a top secret govt. organisation behind it? Are there some special words uttered during childbirth that takes away the baby's..umm.."crying mojo"? I personally think that it's the mom. Who would not be scared of that angry Grudge like look? *Shudder*

Bangalore to Hong Kong!

2010-07-01T21:43:00.003+05:30

No prizes for guessing what this post is about. There are so many things I want to share about this place that my head was bursting with observations and comments. So I'll just get down to it directly, no fancy buildups, no hows and whys.

What are the chances of meeting two people you know in the international airport, where being your first international trip you have landed way too early and have more than 3 hours to kill? And that too one being related to you! Well not too high, let me tell you that. But that is exactly what happened with me.
I did embarrass myself at a couple of counters but that's a different story altogether.
The journey was uneventful, and the air hostesses - rude. I guess they know that it's the only direct flight and hence you don't have much of a choice.
The flight was late and I just remember drifting in and out of sleep, only to eat and go direct back to sleep. By the way, whoever came up with the idea of playing "What's your Rashee?" as in flight entertainment, thank you! Works better than a warm glass of milk, instant peaceful slumber guaranteed!
This place defines "bustling"! You see people everywhere, everyone looks important, busy and like they have something really big to do and someplace very urgent to be. It has such a high energy that you wonder if you can keep up. My first weekend was pretty disorienting actually!
Customer service actually has a meaning here. They look like they want to serve you well.
Language problem - BIG problem. Most of them struggle with framing simple English sentences and when they actually do, their accents make it even more difficult for me to grasp what they are saying. Lesson learnt - use keywords, speak slower than usual, pay attention.
Gotta love the public transportation. You can get from anywhere to anywhere by three very convenient and simple means- trams, buses and trains(all A/C, of course). If you don't mentally convert the rates to INR then they work out really cheap too!
The clothes! How can I not mention that! I kid you not, no two women on the street wear the same clothes. Forget same, they are barely similar. I don't know whether the reason behind this is the abundant choices or just the desire to stand out, but it works!
The shoes! Yes, this post is getting very girly and what not but I cannot help it. Nowadays when I walk, I don't even look up. Girls/women here wear such pretty and funky footwear that it is difficult to focus elsewhere. Sure, given a choice I probably wouldn't even have the guts to try out these styles but that's also a point I want to make. Anything they wear, they look like they own the look and at total ease with themselves.
The men aren't too good looking. I prefer our Indian men anyday! It's been six days since I landed here and I could spot just one fairly good looking guy.
Food is a bit of a problem for a vegetarian like me but since I have "my people" already here since the past couple of years, I know where to look and what to avoid. In short, I am well fed.

I have loads to add but not right now. Work beckons.

P.S.: I didn't even know why today i.e. July 1st is a holiday here. Turns out some political thingy. Oh well *shrugs*

The year of change

2010-01-17T12:51:00.002+05:30

Remember when I told you that I don't like change? Well, that itself, has changed. I am looking for a lot of changes this year. Maybe it just the monotony that is life right now, I don't know. It's just that the routine gets really boring after a while.

I have started out with the way I look. Now that, has undergone a major change! Bye bye wavy, frizzy hair, hello straight and smooth hair! I had been contemplating this decision for I don't know how many months/years now. The only thing that was stopping me was, well, the fear of change. All that talk about "they treat the hair with chemicals" was just eyewash. I was scared of looking so different. What changed my mind? I can't say. It wasn't a resolution, oh no no, I don't believe in that. I guess I finally found my backbone. I didn't even "warn" people at home. It was more or less a spontaneous decision(barring the fact that I had been thinking about it since forever). How do I feel about it now?

My hair actually blows beautifully in the wind now. No, seriously. You see those shampoo ads and you grunt, thinking to yourself "yeah right, nobody can have that kind of hair". Well, you can, after a lot of treatment, of course. Earlier, it used to take dollops of conditioner followed by the hair serum to make my hair remotely resemble a human being's. I used to dread dry and breezy weather. Now, let it blow. See if I care.

It's tangle free! No more struggling with the hair brush, going in slow strokes to make sure I don't pull out the wild strands also known as my hair. It's like every strand has a snooty life of its own. Each strand exists as an individual, refusing to get entangled in the messy life of others but willing to co exist peacefully. Just perfect.

All those Hindi songs about "sunhari zulfein" and "latein" and what not make sense now. Heck, forget a guy wanting to run his fingers through my hair, I myself can't get enough of it! So many times I have to remind myself that it might seem a little weird for others to see me obsessing over it. But I can't help it, it's so soft! Now I know why girls with naturally beautiful hair keep adjusting their hair by running their fingers through it time and again. It's not "attitude", it's just reflex action, they just want to make sure their prized possession is still safe. And by the way, girls with naturally beautiful and straight hair, the next time you tell me you would rather have curly hair, I will hit you.

Of course this drastic change in look got me different opinions and views. Some love it, others tell me I looked better with my natural hair. The best reactions were in the first week, the look of shock on everyone's face. And of course, my melodramatic mother wins the contest with her words - "you don't look like my daughter anymore". Right.

But one thing's for sure. Even now when I look in the mirror first time every morning, I don't recognise the person staring back at me. But in more ways than one, I like that. Sure, "permanent" as it may be, my naturally out of control hair will grow back soon, but for the time being, let me be "that chick with straight hair".

Happy New Decade

2010-01-01T15:55:00.002+05:30

Yeah I thought I'll give it a snazzy little subject, something different, something unique, but when simple words can convey it, why go for any complicated ones, right? So the new year is upon us and as is the new decade. Bear with me while I go down the memory lane, getting all nostalgic.

The decade of the single remote control:
Ah, simpler times. One remote control, one purpose, controlling the TV. Do you want to change the channel? Well, grab *the* remote? Volume giving you problems? Where did you put *the* remote? Not anymore.

A: "Hey I put the DVD in. How do I switch the player on?"
B: "Use that black remote and switch the player on"
A: "There are two black ones, which one are you talking about?"
B: "Not the thin black one, that's the one for the cable"
A: "Oh ok. The fat one. Done, but nothing is coming on the screen."
B: "Well that's because you didn't switch the TV on."
A: "How do I do that?"
B: "Use the third remote control, the grey one."
A: "You know what, forget the movie. It probably isn't that good anyway."

When the watch wasn't just another accessory:

I can see you smile and nod your head. Remember all those exam days? Right from school till college. Other than the pens/pencils(not always as important) and hall ticket, the most important thing to carry used to be the watch. If it were the "normal" ones, you would pull that little lever out and sync it with someone else, to make sure it was showing the right time. If it was the digital watch(and I am sure you were extremely proud of it, you show off) you would create all those beeping noises, initially to figure out how the hell do you shift to the time setting mode and then eventually set the right time. Not anymore. You feel lost without your cell phone. That one device rules your life, but more on that later. Wearing a watch is now only for style statement.

Mobile landing:

As I said earlier, this one device rules our lives now. Alarm clock - cellphone, remembering events like birthdays and anniversaries - cellphone (mine is cruel, it seems to discriminate against certain people), clock - cellphone, camera - cellphone, music - cellphone, heck even internet surfing - cellphone. I am sure I have forgotten a million other uses, but you catch my drift. But one thing I totally blame the cellphone for is people turning unpunctual. Earlier with just landlines (fixed phone lines) the element of doubt and uncertainty would ensure that if people promised they would be someplace at some time, they would be there either early or on time. But now since you can call up people and lie to them that you are stuck in traffic (*scowl*), you take them for granted and ask them to wait a little more. Seriously people, if you have lived in the same city for more than a year, you know the "traffic", so plan for it accordingly, will you.

Dial up, up and away:

The great Internet revolution of the two oh oh ohhhhhhs. From just starting out with a Yahoo! email ID and being barely able to move the mouse, to being an internet addict, I myself have come a long way. Ok, this wasn't exactly in the last decade but I will narrate this incident nonetheless. My elder brother's friend had called up home(on the landline, as was the norm then) and I happened to pick the phone up. He gave me his email ID to pass on to my brother. Guess how I noted it down - I actually spelt the "_". Yes, my note read "name underscore name". Naive old me. And who can forget the dial up connection days! Set up the connection and wait. The sounds, the noises, oh the suspense! Then enter the URL and again, wait. Meanwhile go fix a snack or finish some other errand and by the time you are back, the page has loaded! If someone would have told you that in the future you could download movies over the internet, wouldn't that have been the joke of the year(or decade?). Not to mention actually watching someone speak in another country, miles away from you, in real time(video chat, if you didn't quite get that)! Oh the power of technology.

The great transition:

More than anything I will remember the last decade for being the one where I made the transition from being a student to a working professional. How much I work or how professional I am may be subject to debates but that isn't the point right now. I am sure it holds good for all of you because come on, do you really expect me to believe that people who started working in the 1990s actually read my blogs? What a shift it was, what a change in lifestyle. And not to mention, what a change in shape. Show me one person who looks exactly as they were in their student days (weight and shape wise) and I will eat my tongue. Fatsos(relatively speaking of course), all of you. But financial independence, what a high, no? It doesn't matter how much you earn, the mere fact that you don't have to ask someone for money feels so good. That reminds me. Those of you who went back to school, to pursue higher studies, how in the world do you manage? It's like a lion turning vegetarian.

To sum it up, no matter what articles on the net would have you believe, the last decade was not the worst decade in the last century. Sure there have been some tragedies but which decade didn't have their share? I don't know about you but I am pretty excited about the next ten years. Bring it on!

PS: Just saw an ad by a leading mobile service provider asking people to donate old mobile phones to old age homes. Whatever happened to the days of the blankets?

Wish you all a beautiful year ahead and a fantabulous decade to come!

Whistle Blower

2009-12-07T23:18:00.002+05:30

I love train journeys. I can't say it enough and I can't get enough of them. So what if we still have only holes in the floors of our toilets or still have to rely on metal chains to secure our luggage. Train journeys are fun. And relaxing. And oh so comfortable! Unlike a bus journey, you don't have to worry about when the next pee stop will be and whether you will have to look for a thick bush or a big tree. Unlike a plane journey, you don't have to get to the place at some god forsaken hour and some hundreds of god forsaken hours before the scheduled departure. Nor worry about not looking good for the journey, or worse still wonder which one of your co passengers is carrying that suspicious looking piece of luggage.

No Sirre Bob. You get to the station either on time or later, because not in the history of Indian Railways has any train come before time. If it is late, you look at your fellow passengers, give that all knowing shake of head and comment about the state of Indian railways. Following which, you buy a book or magazine, plonk yourself on a small piece of ledge or bench, asking the people to skooch over and make a little place, while giving them the half apologetic, half "come-on-lets-be-nice-now" look. You may start reading you material but you still look around, to look out for any interesting specimens, and of course to make sure every five minutes that your luggage, which is at your feet, is still there and very much safe.

Since it is a place always bustling with people, your eyes don't linger long enough. Occasionally you catch someone else doing the same. You look away, you don't maintain eye contact for long. You don't want to discover acquaintances, you don't want to strike a conversation. You just want to bide your time till the train comes. Beggars approach you, you pretend to not notice them. They look at you, they stay for a while, they judge you. If you look easy, they don't move away till they see you dig into your purse/wallet for that coin. If you don't, they move to the next person. If the train is really late, you catch the same beggars again and again. The same rounds, the same expression, the same tone, the same perseverance.

You see someone interesting. A kid, a family, a lady, a man, a bunch of students, a group of nuns, a gang of what looks like ruffians. You look at them in between flipping pages of your reading material. You don't want to alarm them, make them feel conscious, break their rhythm, draw their attention to you. You wonder if they are locals or tourists. You try to decide based on their clothing and mannerisms. You wonder if they are boarding the same train, if they will be your companions for the next few hours. You wish they are, you wish they aren't.

There is a rustle on the platform, a collective movement. Someone heard a whistle, someone saw a train approaching. The announcements are read out over the microphone in the same monotone. You can barely catch it, except if you hear hard enough, the train number and/or the train name. All you rely on are the porters, who are the best source of information. They'll tell you which train is late before even the enquiry section comes to know of it. They'll even tell you why, if you ask them nice enough and if they are bored enough. Then they walk away. They have to be someplace, they have to make a living.

The train finally arrives. The whole platform is now alive. You see the mad rush for the doors of the general compartment. You let out a silent shudder, thanking your stars that you don't have to be a part of it. The snob in you wonders why they can't just be civil. The rest of you feels ashamed at that thought. You walk up to your bogie and see that the scene isn't too different here. The only difference is in the attire. People are still crowding around the door, not even letting the ones inside alight. You wait for it to clear.

You get inside, not even giving a second look to the station or platform. You are more bothered about finding your seat, securing your luggage and getting comfortable. Your journey has just begun.

Wine and Women

2009-11-20T23:09:00.003+05:30

First things first. Hello, remember me?

Moving on. Old age is hitting me hard people! Barely a few days after my twenty *PEEP*th birthday, the signs are there for all to see. Health wise, it has been a roller coaster ride since the past few months.

Poisoned! Five of us, one reputed eat out. One person falls sick, and how. No prizes for guessing who that is. I shall spare you the details by summing it up in one sentence - "what goes in, immediately comes out". Nothing and I mean absolutely nothing was willing to stay inside. Eventually, I was on a diet of ORS (Oral Rehydration Solution) only. Yes, ORS is what kids suffering from diarrhea are given. And non diabetic old people.

Broke Back mole hill - Remember the torture mistress from an old post of mine? Yes, the aerobics instructor. Oops, she did it again. Before you get any ideas, let me be clear. After much deliberation I decided to get back to aerobics again because a rolling 5'2" ball isn't a pretty sight for the eyes. But alas, that wasn't to be. Lady Hitler gave us such a heavy workout, which included weightlifting, my poor lazy back gave way. Result? Excruciating pain, which got worse over time and caused a mini black out too. I won't lie to you, the episode was scary.

Salt or Pepper? Sigh. Spotted my first gray hair. Well, kinda. It isn't exactly gray. It is really light brownish and has bits of gray towards the end. Like it's still deciding whether to come out or not. Great, a gay strand of gray. Again, hadn't I mentioned somewhere on this blog itself that I would be proud of my gray hair? Well, I am. Just in an...erm..protected manner right now. So lets tuck it under the other healthy bunch of hair for the time being, ok? Ok!

Short and sighted - As if the above weren't enough cause for misery, along came a visit to the eye doctor. It was long due. I had noticed the blurriness some time back but had kept procrastinating. She confirmed my worst fears - I needed an extra pair of eyes. I have never found glasses to be flattering and I still don't. Contact lenses? And me? Hell, no! I'll probably poke my own eyes out thanks to my clumsiness and stubby-fingerness. One look at my phone and you'll know why I should be crowned Ms. Butterfingers. That poor device is scratched more than a flea infested mongrel.

So there you have it, my sob story. I just hope that 30, far as it may be, is less cruel to me. But just in case, I think I should get a set of dentures made now itself.

Book Review: The Lost Symbol

2009-09-19T15:46:00.003+05:30

WARNING: THIS BLOGPOST CONTAINS A LOT, IF NOT MOST OF THE KEY SPOILERS FROM THE BOOK. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT ALREADY, THE TIME TO CLOSE THIS WINDOW IS NOW!

You have been warned.

I don't know how to begin. Perhaps a little background would do. I have read 4 out of Dan Brown's 5 published book. So, I think I am in a comfortable position to do this. If you don't know already, the book is based on the one of the most powerful (cults?)societies in USA - the Freemasons. I will not go on to list each and every twist and turn in the plotline in the book, but I will list down the points which did not make this book all that "awesome" for me:

1. One of the most important ones: the focus on USA. Yes, Brown is an American author. I understand that. But he went overboard here. He just about stopped short of shouting or rather printing from the rooftops that USA is the greatest nation in the world. Maybe it had something to do with his target readers. But what it does to the rest of us, the non American readers is to make us sigh and groan "This again? don't we have enough Hollywood movies doing that?"

2. Too much lecturing. We all know that Robert Langdon is a lecturer, but apparently, so is Dan Brown. The overdose of philosophy (is that the right word?) in the book becomes overbearing after a certain point. Many authors have understated messages in their narration. But it is bearable when it is understated and subtle. In The Lost Symbol, there were moments when I got fed up of it and skipped those paragraphs. It isn't just a few lines, he preaches in paragraphs, one after another. We all know we live in troubled times yada yada now can we get back to the plot please!. If I want to ponder about these things, I will pick up a book along those lines. I expect fiction interspersed with startling facts, mythology from Dan Brown, not a lecture on the greater good, truth, good and evil, etc.

3. Too much spirituality/religion. Before you say it, yes I know that was the whole premise of The Da Vinci Code. But that was different. It was crucial to the plot of the book and we discovered some amazing lore/legends and that was combined with the main storyline. The end result was spectacular. The same doesn't happen here. I don't know if Dan Brown is trying to make amends or get back on good terms with the Church but that is what it seems like. He hasn't glorified the church but he has gone to lengths defending the Bible and glorifying it. I can point out quite a few instances when it seems to be a pathetic attempt at pacification. Whatever the reason may be, he has played it really safe this time around.

4. The basic premise. Yeah, I know this should have come right on top. I cannot bring myself to believe even a little bit of the basic premise, on which this book carries its story forward. One bit that refuses to get out of my mind is the experiment that Katherine Solomon conducts, which helps her in measuring the weight of the human soul. Oh please! No matter how much I tell myself to have an open mind about it, I refuse to digest this piece. I am going to look up Noetic Science but I doubt if that's going to change my opinion at all. When we read a book, we surrender our minds to the author, allowing him to shape our thoughts in his/her way, making us see things that only he/she would have seen till now. But we have a limit. I know when you are bullshitting me.

5. If you have read The Count of Monte Cristo or seen even a few Hindi movies, you know within the few lines where he talks about Zachary Solomon that its Mal'akh. So that eliminates the surprise factor. Fine, that was just a minor glitch. Next up is the "threat to national security" angle that Sato plays and is the reason the CIA is involved in this treasure hunt in the first place. A few individuals captured on camera performing dark rituals? I am sorry, but that's the best you could come up with? Sure, since all of them are prominent American individuals, it will have a big impact, but ahem, you are afraid of a Youtube scandal? I thought CIA had better things to worry about.

I could go on and on. Sure it is an entertaining read, but it has failed on too many fronts for me to love it. It is a long read and isn't even the can't-take-your-eyes-off-it, fast paced book. It is not boring and you should definitely read it but do so with an impartial mindset. Maybe the fact that I am a skeptic and a cynical person has something to do with it but I am sorry to say that The Lost Symbol was lost on me. I am a reader who wasn't wowed, and that's the truth.

I would rate it 3/5.

Oink flew

2009-08-21T23:47:00.003+05:30

How many of you are scared? How many of you have started wearing masks? How many of you have stopped going out to public places?

I see the situation in Pune/Mumbai, and I think it is a little scary. I see the situation in Bangalore and I find it extremely funny. Masks have become a style statement here. Or at least that's what they want it to be. To me, (to quote Red Forman), its a dumbass statement. The masks that people wear are no thicker than two tissues or maybe even toilet paper quality tissues held together. I'll come to them later, first here are a few observations that make my days:

1. People will not give up on malls. It's one thing if you are working there. You should, in that case take all precautions. But it's another, that you go there, out of your own will and reason and then pretend that you are scared for your life. Some may argue that it is to keep the spirits high, how long can you stay at home? Well, why can't you stay at home? Malls don't provide basic facilities. You can get your provisions at the local store, barely a stone's throw away from your house and which is frequented by a fewer number of people. The only thing basic about malls is the clothing that they display on the mannequins.

2. People think they can control this virus by sheer will power. How else do you explain a lady, standing in the queue to buy movie tickets, totally unprotected. 5 min later, same lady, one row up ahead, taking out the aforementioned tissue thin, useless, streetside, sold for 10 Rs. mask and wearing it. You see, she couldn't catch the virus standing next to scores of people where her face was exposed to all and sundry! No Sirree Bob! It is only in the dark confines of the theater, once she is settled in, and is sure that no one can spot her with the hideous thing on her mouth, that the virus will think to themselves "hey, she is well equipped now, so let us attack the others!".

3. Mobile - check, wallet - check, sunglasses - check, silly mask - check. This other incident is directed at those of you who have made a mockery of this whole thing. You buy these surgical kind masks, not even knowing that the only thing they can protect you from is probably dust, or if the material is too cheap, just dirt and then wear it all over the town, apparently very proud of your responsible behaviour. You get on Brigade/MG road (places in Bangalore where people get dressed up to walk, randomly, for no reason) and you see this girl, stylishly attired, wearing a tank top, snug pair of jeans, hair let loose, sunglasses on even though it's past 7 p.m. and of course, a mask. She has the air of a princess who is walking amongst the commons. She has a green cloth over her mouth, surely no virus can harm her now!

4. The smelly cats. Have you received the forwards about how some drops of oil on your handkerchief will magically keep you safe? These are the people who overdo it. They bathe in these oils, probably after brushing their teeth with it, spraying it on their whole body, massaging it into their hair and using it in their car as fresheners and sometimes maybe even washing their clothes in it. Nilgiri/Eucalyptus oil is the new Dettol. Thanks to them, a closed space smells like a dirty, shady high-on-dope-and-suggest-this-oil-for-all-treatments-sadhu's abode.

5. The conspiracy theorists. My favourite people! Don't they make every problem so much fun to deal with! I mean who cares if it is a medical condition which may get out of hand if not dealt with properly, all these people want to do is point fingers at the government/s and demand answers.
"Last year we had Avian Flu and this year it is Swine Flu. If birds and pigs cannot be trusted, what is the government doing about it?".
"Michael Jackson, who is 'so called dead', mated his chimpanzee, who has AIDS with Tiger Prabhakar's pet pig, who if sources are to be believed, is half Tamilian and half Sinhalese(the pig, not Tiger) to produce this virus so that people are so distracted that his "death" is not looked into. This project is partly funded by Tupac and Osama Bin Laden."

Before I end this piece, let me make it clear. I am not ridiculing the disease, it is a very serious business and people have unnecessarily lost lives to it. I am ridiculing dumb people. If you want to be safe, do what I do - stay AWAY from those disease carrying germs on kids and preggies!

P.S.: Almost forgot, my pic came in Deccan Chronicles. Yay! Before you start assuming, not because of this blog or any book offer. Hell no!

Ugh..People!

2009-08-09T11:30:00.004+05:30

I am in a very strange mood right now. I am so tired of people, in general. I am tired of greeting people, I am tired of looking at people, I am tired of talking to people and I am most definitely tired of making conversation with people!

This isn't about what people think. No, that has got nothing to do with it. It is just that right now, it just seems to be that there are too many people around me. There are times that I just want to walk into a place and not be spoken to. Just do away with the formalities, go on, ignore me. But more than that, what I really want is to be able to walk into a conversation and walk out when I want to. No special reason. Not because the person disgusts me or the topic is getting out of hand. Just that I just don't want to be a part of it. Just like that.

I am not a loner. Far from it, actually. I don't like being alone. But there are times I feel strangely suffocated, suffocated by people around me. You need to know what everyone is doing, everyone needs to know what you are doing, you ask them, they ask you, you make them acquainted with more people, they make you acquainted with more people. People, people, people. It's a circle that keeps expanding and some believe that bigger the circle is, more "popular" you are.

But don't believe what they say. Bigger your circle, more people there are to keep tabs on, to keep getting mixed with, to keep talking about. It never ends. There comes a point that you hit saturation and just want to forget all these people! Make them go away from your memories, make them strange faces you look at, once again. Make them strangers, people you didn't know, people you didn't want to know. Just random faces, people who know very few of your people.

Before you get me wrong, this isn't about friends. I have few friends. I am not one of those people who label acquaintances as friends. So we are good, this isn't about friends. Did I just say that again?

This is about people - so many of them! And ironically, I have posted this on my blog, where more people will read it. Great, just great.

sPillover

2009-07-19T20:31:00.002+05:30

I wouldn't have believed you if you would have told me a few years earlier that my threshold of pain would go down, slowly. You see, I am the kind of person who doesn't believe in pills. I mean, it's not like I refuse to believe that medicine works, that small quantities of certain chemicals will in turn take care of certain chemicals in my body and magically, things will be better. Phew. No, that's not what I mean.

What I do mean is..wait, let me illustrate it with the help of a story. A very long time ago, there used to be a little girl. A delicate little girl, who used to fall ill at the drop of a hat. Her parents wouldn't let her take allopathy treatment as they were scared of the side effects. So throughout her life she was used to taking these small balls of sugar. And they worked, placebo effect or not.

Then one fine day, the girl happened to watch a movie. A very average, if not below, Hindi movie. It starred Salman Khan and umm..Revathi? Well, to cut a long story short, which unfortunately they didnt, the climax of the scene involved the girl getting into a macabre accident i.e. glass piercing through her abdomen. No medicines would work on her as since childhood she used to pop those evil tablets and capsules, for no reason, even if she was hale and hearty. So scientifically they explained in the movie, that it lead to a lower immunity and no medicines would work on her.

This was during the times I did not even know the spelling of the word paranoia. But set in, it did. Since that time, I had vowed to never be so stupid, I mean what if glass or any other sharp object for that matter went through my abdomen or any other part of the body for that matter! So I avoided pills whenever I could. Incredible pain, terrible flu, high fever, any kind of ailment and my treatment would be to sleep it off. For milder cases, it worked. When it got really severe, to the point that maybe my survival depended on it, I would resort to pills.

But as Murphy, my best friend, was watching all of this, I think somewhere he gave a sinister laugh. He also gave me acne problem. And it was the kind of problem that doesn't go away with clean and clear. There were pills, capsules, tablets, colourful, stinky, long, small, you imagine it, I have taken it. But one good thing came out of it - I outgrew my paranoia, to a certain extent. Pills weren't so bad. Pills are good, if taken in normal quantities.

Alas! With these positive changes, came the negative. My will power, strengthened by my paranoia in the bygone years, has gone down considerably. Ok, maybe you are wondering what kind of a psycho would willingly want to suffer, when in pain. Good point. But it's not easy to explain. Let me put it this way - nowadays, if I am in pain, the first thought I get is where the painkiller is. If it's a cold, I want to reach out for the tablet that in the advertisements sends a golden light through your oesophagus and magically cures it.

Fear, in the right amount and at the right time, can serve us well. I need to be afraid. Someone please show me a news link of a woman/man who developed 15 butts as a side effect from taking medicines for common ailments. Maybe that will help me snap out of this.

This and That

2009-06-22T22:06:00.003+05:30

Since it takes quite an effort and patience to actually come out with something that makes sense, here's a compilation of random thoughts that I would like to put down here for posterity:

The easiest way to know if he/she is serious - See if you are introduced to the friends. Forget family, they come much later. If you are introduced to the "gang", its on. Why did I suddenly think of it? Well, I promised you random, didn't I? Word of caution: if you have been at the other end of sweet nothings but still don't what the best friend looks like, move on.

All good things to eat are short words. Really, think about it. The three words that come to my mind are pizza, cake and coffee. Fine, you got me there. You don't eat coffee. But you get my point, don't you. Half the fun goes away if you spend fifteen minutes trying to pronounce it. Try ordering "croissant, on the go". That's why all of us love "puff" so much. And eggs. And Maggi. "Oh, there's nothing to eat, do you wanna have the instant-noodles-that-can-be-prepared-in-2-minutes?" I don't think so.

Google has spoiled all of us. I remember the time when the Encyclopaedia used to be the last word on everything. When you needed to look a word up, you got up, you went to fetch either the pocket dictionary or if you wanted to know some examples along with the pronunciation, you went to fetch the big daddy of dictionaries. It weighs at least 2 kilos. So once you had it on your tiny lap, you thought "oh what the hell, might as well look up some more words". Now, you just find an obscure link and prove to everyone that the way you say it is right. Stupid internet.

If you want to get a "hostelite"(people who don't live with their families) to get all emotional, play either of these songs - Purani Jeans/Yaaron Dosti/ Pal/Yaadein. Serious faces, tight body language, uncomfortable silence guaranteed. If there is alcohol in the vicinity, expect water works too. Disclaimer: listener must be fluent in Hindi.

I am back to the world of books and loving it. Sure, it's not like each and every book I get my hand on turns out to be the best published work in the world, but it's good to feel the workings of the funny device inside my cranium. Once in a while it does take a little bit of re reading to grasp something, given the distractions at hand. The speed has definitely taken a beating too. But hey, not all is lost. It's a wonderful world, the world of books.

If you have a cold, passive smoking will destroy you. If you can't avoid it, at least make sure you don't wash your hair in cold water. Forget nose block, sneezing or throat pain, it is the loss of the sense of taste that's the most painful. We take our sense of smell and taste for granted. Imagine eating five different things, but being able to judge only the difference in texture. It's as bad as being colour blind, if not worse. Stay healthy people.

Which reminds me, I find it quite difficult to believe that man has traveled to the moon (and back, if you were to listen to Savage Garden) but is still unable to find a remedy, or at least ease the symptoms of the common cold. I am not asking you to cure cancer, spread world peace or walk on water. I just want you to tell me that this can be done. Forget anti matter, give me anti splatter.

Of stripes

2009-05-23T19:05:00.003+05:30

Did you guys see? He is dead. Yes, the big tiger that had been scaring the wits out of a particular government in the land of the Ravana. Honestly, I never knew what the big deal was about. I do take some interest in current affairs but this issue was always, I don't know how to put it, well, boring. If a squabble(usage of this word might offend few of you out there, bite me) goes on for so many years, the onlookers do get tired of it, don't they?

But this blog hasn't been composed to discuss the politics or the current situation in our neighbouring country. What I do intend to discuss is how I felt when I first saw the news on tv. Other than shock. Why shocked? Did I not expect him to ever get caught? Of course I did, after a certain point every place in the hide and seek game gets exposed. So it was inevitable. The shock was at the swollen face with the bullet in his head. You see a pic of a stout man wearing funky military camouflage uniform, posing like it's his 10th birthday, in the morning. By evening, that very man lies dead, with the news channels making sure that every 3.798 seconds the particular visual is flashed.

The next reaction was obviously sadness. Death isn't a pleasant thought, no matter who suffers it. It was followed by regret. Yes. Regret. For the simple reason that another "icon"(again, readers, easy with the flaming torches) of our generation is no more. Confused? It's simple. Throughout our lives, we have certain constants. These constants are outside of our family and friends, of course. Constants like Veerappan, Yaseer Arafat, the Pope (old one, I still expect the hunchbacked form to appear instead of Benedict) and the greedy Bangalore auto driver.

You have grown up with these people. Even if they weren't there, physically, they were part of the process. A smuggler was synonymous with Veerappan, anyone with a weird moustache was compared to him. When you spoke about godmen, Chandraswamy's personality came to mind. Fraud makes you think about Harshad Mehta. No one says "tomboy" better than Kiran Bedi. Geek stands for Bill Gates(I mean even if he ends up owning the universe, he won't give up those glasses!). "Break dance"(to us Indians) cannot be performed better than Michael Jackson. Quizzing is Derek O Brien. I think you get the drift. Constants, all of them. One by one, fading away.

You can't help it, isn't this how life works? So you move on. You look for new icons, reluctantly. Look around. Foot in mouth has a new ambassador, George Bush. Cricket commentary makes one think of the charming, smiling, Harsha Bhogle. Attention deprivation has the face of Navjot Singh Sidhu. A ladyboy is Bobby Darling and a ladyboy lookalike to woman like is Rakhi Sawant(cosmetic surgery-jai ho!). And so, the constants change(hunh..oxymoron).

Change - heavy, noisy and always in demand.

Recede

2009-04-26T09:12:00.004+05:30

Tough times are upon us people. I will be honest with you, since that is the equation that has been set between us since the birth of this blog. Due to trouble in Uncle Sam's homeland, we are slowly seeing trouble come to our shores. In fact, times are so bad that I have started working hard. Yes, you can panic now. That is precisely the reason why this wonderful corner of my mind has been left to fend for its own. I haven't forgotten about it, not yet.

Every time I get a call from an unknown number, I get a mild panic attack. I wonder if it is the HRD asking me to "step out of the cubicle" for a quick rendezvous. That's how it happened with the others.
I feel like changing my Orkut, Gtalk, Facebook, Twitter and what have you not statuses to "Still Employed". At least people won't have to gingerly start a conversation with "how are you? how's work?". I know what you want to ask.
The level of paranoia is so high right now that my mailbox, at any given time, has barely one or two unread mails, that too related to work! I mean, where are the scores of forwards that used to flood my inbox daily? It has come to such a point that I wouldn't mind the really irritating "Gooooood Morrninggggg" mails, replete with sparkles, butterflies and (*ugh*) animated babies.
Is it just me or has the crowd started thinning down at work? That's not a good sign. Nowadays, I get a full seat to myself in the company bus! No wait, maybe those are the days I forget to spray on my deodorant. Oh yeah..
Every morning at work, at the Coffee Day outlet, there used to be this bunch of managers and senior managers, chatting away to glory and probably making fun of us blue collar job holders. Nowadays, it is so deserted that you can hear the theme of some western movie playing in the background with a ball of hay rolling about.
My relatives, whose favourite topic used to be the shame brought upon the family due the marriage of some distant cousin to some fellow from another caste, are discussing economics! Just recently an aunt of mine remarked how she isn't going to buy any more jewelry, taking into consideration the "prevalent market conditions".
The only people left unaffected by it all are the auto drivers. They don't care if people are cutting back on expenses and that translates to lesser earnings for them. They still stand by their principles - despite times of trouble, keep demanding double. I wonder if they have something similar to Hippocrates oath, when they take this profession up. The Hypocrite's oath? Never mind, bad one.

Before I go, here's a word of advice - practice safe employment. Use discretion, it works 99% of the time.

Faithless

2009-03-27T22:39:00.003+05:30

This one is addressed to all the people like my noble friend here. This is to bring to your notice that atheists are not crazy people. This topic came up when I casually mentioned that my mom plays the Vishnu sahasranam and the Suprabhatam on the computer every morning. It was met with a strong "and you tolerate it?" question.

Yes, I do. I am an atheist, not a crazy person:

1. I don't unpray every night. I don't go to bed thinking thoughts like "God, you don't exist and here's me unpraying to you".

2. Just because you have an answer for everything as God, doesn't mean I need to have one too. I have not figured out how this universe works.

3. Don't expect me to talk about aliens building the pyramids or whales ruling the world.

4. I don't go upto priests in temples and tell them that they should stop misleading the poor people.

5. I don't throw away prasad offered to me, out of spite. I don't even refuse it. The difference lies in the fact that you revere it, I don't.

6. I know a lot about the Bhagwad Gita, Ramayan, Mahabharat. I know the Hanuman Chalisa by rote. I find Indian mythology one of the most fascinating that I have ever come across. "Mythology" - notice that?

7. I don't want to prove anyone wrong or myself right. I am very comfortable with your beliefs, just let me be with lack of mine.

8. There was no drastic event that made me think or not believe in this manner. My dog didn't die in front of my eyes, my grandparents weren't wronged by a Bishop and neither did I meet with an accident that changed my life. I have led a pretty much nondescript life.

9. When forced to go to a temple or attend a religious cenremony, I swallow my ego and pretend. I don't create a scene shouting "But what about Darwin's theory, hunh?". My peace of mind and of those around me holds high priority to me.

10. I don't go about telling people that I am an atheist. This is the only place where I have talked so much about it. Most of my friends happen to discover it. Some of them still don't know. Talking about it makes me uncomfortable, only because I know I'll be cornered with "oh so you think you know everything?" and descriptions of "miracles".

Before I wrap this up, let me just leave behind a few words that came to my mind when I was walking back home today, thanks to the roadblock caused by a temple near the area where I live-"I understand faith, I just don't understand religion".

The fine print

2009-03-07T20:27:00.003+05:30

My dear friends, I have some shocking news. No, I have not been offered a reality show about underpaid-yet-grinning-like-they-have- it-all-confused-IT person (catchy title eh?). What I do have, is the contract that reality show producers offer their contractees or rather the participants of the show in question. For the benefit of all, I shall list them down here:

1. The participant shall, at no point during the show, be nice or say nice things to a fellow participant.

2. The participant should know at least five words of obscenity, preferably in the language that the show is in. If a participant is found lacking in this regard, he/she should hire a tutor prior to the shooting and get trained in swear/curse words as soon as possible.

3. The participant has to use the F word, irrespective of the fact that they may not mean what it means, at least once in five sentences. While mouthing it, the participant must make sure that they are facing the camera and the lips movement is vivid enough to be explanatory about the swear word's nature.

4. The participant must be capable of crying at the drop of a hat (or any other more suitable piece of clothing). If required, the show producers have to be informed in advance to help the participant in this regard, who will duly run the clips of puppies drowning, babies overdosing or any other helpful clip, on the teleprompter.

5. The participant must be fluent in fake accents. A knowledge of English is not necessary, but that of an English accent is. The show producers reserve the right to expel any participant who gives away a normal accent, accompanied by the customary terrible grammar.

6. The participant must have at least one poor/dying/disabled/terminally ill/ugly family member who will sign another contract allowing the cameramen to shoot them at tilted angles in sepia/black and white/negative mode.

7. The participant will not at any point during the show hide their ethnicity or balk at asking only certain sections of the country to vote for them. A sense of nationality is highly frowned upon and is most definitely not encouraged.

8. The participant will not refuse intervention by the make up artists to magically lighten the participant's skin colour.

9. The participant will wear anything and everything that is dug out by the stylists of the show, even if it includes carrying off silk/satin offshoulder/strapless gowns in the middle of summer.

10. The participant will submit, along with a few other documents mentioned in a separate letter, their dignity to the producers of this show.

There are many such clauses in the contract. Due to some special reasons, which include possible boredom on the part of the reader, I have reproduced here, only the ten important. Point to be noted: the contract may vary from one show to another but this format is largely followed by most shows that have young 18 to twenty somethings as the participants.

Valentine's Day special

2009-02-12T22:11:00.002+05:30

Valentine's Day is just around the corner. Personally, I don't believe in the whole concept and know it very well for what it is-one of the most clever and well thought of marketing strategies. Yet, I also believe in personal freedom. Don't worry, this isn't one of the countless tirades against the cowardly man(?) and his burden on this earth goons. What this is, is a prediction of the things to come:

Children's Day: Even though this day is celebrated as a tribute to the first Prime Minister of India, it is just a matter of time before they come up with a theory that since he was born in the times of the British, his birthday is a western concept. So any kids found roaming on the streets that day will be forced to join the closest school. It does not matter if the kids already attend one, and in any case if they are from a particular school, what were they doing outside, anyway? On second thoughts, this isn't a bad idea, if such a situation arises, tons of underprivileged kids might finally have that shot at education.

Mother's Day, Father's Day, Parents' Day: "Why do we need special days to appreciate our parents? This is against Indian culture!" Yes, who decides which day is to celebrated as parents' day? I mean, if you are so keen, go look up which day Shravana Kumar was born and we shall all celebrate it by carrying our parents on weighing balances! So any adults or kids found with a woman or man who is older than them will have to be forcefully adopted by the same. There is no other way to tackle this menace. If you are cheap enough to respect elders other than your parents, you deserve to be punished through adoption!

Teacher's Day: Again, as of now this day is celebrated in India as a remembrance to the first Vice President of India. But if you missed the logic in Children's Day, let me remind you, he was born during the British rule! To add to it, he (to quote Wiki) "he introduced Western idealism into Indian philosophy". Oh my God, people! Do you see what they are upto? They did this to us and we did not even realise it! Down with the Western idealism(whatever that is supposed to mean)! Any student found giving flowers, cards will have to pay for their actions by taking an impromptu test and any function felicitating teachers shall be broken entry into!

New Year's Day: January 1st is celebrated the world over as New Year's day. It is the first day of the Gregorian calendar. Who is this fellow Gregory? We don't know any Gregory! Why should he be the one who dictates when the new year begins? Unless it is some Giridhari who has taken on this Western name, we will not adhere to it! Despite the fact that every state in India has its own beliefs, rituals and its own version of the new year, we will not bow down to Western pressures and participate in harmless revelry! Mobs will be mobilised to crack down on all new year celebrations on Jan 1 and everyone will be made to change the dates on their mobiles phones, computers and any other device which bears the new year in their systems.

Happy Valentine's Day India.

Psychobabble

2009-02-10T21:44:00.003+05:30

Have you seen Kaho Na Pyaar Hai? The scene where the heroine has a conversation with the dead hero's lookalike which reminds her of him. Or the scene where the duplicate interacts with the dead hero's kid brother and the kid is reminded of the real deal. Well, freakishly, these things are happening to me. OK, maybe not exactly. I don't "see dead people". It's just that some strangers inadverdently remind me of certain other people I know.

The most unnerving experience of them all had to be the one during my bus journey home. The bus is about to leave the depot and is at the gate when the moderator(?) asks the driver to stop and a girl gets in. No, violins don't play in the background, she isn't wearing a chiffon saree, the pallu of which blows in the wind and there is most definitely no perfect breeze blowing her hair. She's probably a regular looking girl. I say probably because that was the last thing on my mind, to check out a girl. As my luck would have it, she lands up in the seat next to me, much to my chagrin(I like to occupy a two seater by myself. Who doesn't?).

The bus starts moving again and she takes out her phone. The next few words of hers makes me freeze in my seat. Not only does she sound exactly like a friend but she uses the exact same words of greeting on the phone. Before you jump the gun, it isn't a plain "Hi" or "Hello". I have a mental argument with myself, contemplating if it's possible that it is indeed my friend sitting next to me. I steal glances of her face and of course, it is not her. Unaware of the battle that my logic is waging with my mind, she continues to speak on the phone. I swear I would have been so relieved had it been a prank played by a common friend or even by some lame television channel. But it wasn't to be.

This wasn't a one off case. There have been others. My team mate in my new team reminds me of a friend - but his isn't a case of exact replication. Just the mannerisms, maybe the way of talking. Just the overall vibes. Needless to say, I am most comfortable around him and started acting and talking freely to him when I was barely introduced to him!

Then there's the duplicate mom in aerobics class. This lady just warms my heart. Everytime I see her, I remember my mother. For the record, they don't resemble each other at all. And this isn't an old woman I am talking about. She may be 4 years older than me, at max. Yet, everytime I see her, I end up smiling out of a sense of familiarity. Maybe it's something in her eyes. She smiles back too, by the way, and seems to be a really nice woman.

Now for some self psychoanalysis: I think I have started to generalize and categorize people. I judge them, that is a fact which is known to all. But now, my brain has started putting all the people I know in separate little mind containers, with each having its set of characteristics and mannerisms, broadly. So the first time I meet someone, to put me at ease, I sub consciously put that person in one of the existing containers. It saves me the trouble of creating new ones, saves me the anxiety of reacting to "new" people and most definitely saves me the time to familiarise with them. In the process though, it is messing with my mind. I don't like it.

Bucket List

2009-01-26T13:47:00.003+05:30

Everyone seems to be making one. What is a bucket list? Well, it's a list of things that you want to do before you kick the bucket. My bucket list here is different. Here's a list of impossible things that I want to achieve before the grim reaper claims this grin reaper:

1. Develop a thick, genuine British accent: How is it impossible? You seem to have missed out the word "genuine". Sure, you can easily develop a thick accent if you practice hard enough and maybe even hire a tutor for it. But it will only make you sound like Shoaib Akhtar. He cannot tell the difference between "balls to" and "balls of" but his accent will be thicker than a gentleman from Yorkshire. That is not what I desire. If an English accent isn't possible, give me a Scottish one. Maybe Sean Connery and I can hit if off then. Along with Mike Myers, of course.

2. Be a hot, Latino chiquita: My general knowledge isn't legendary per se but even I know that just like we don't have elephants, maharajas, snake charmers and the Taj Mahal at every nook and corner of India, each Latino woman is not inherently hot. But I would like to be. I would like to have that pout, with full lips and that brilliant sway which would weaken the stomach of many a strong man. Yes, I would like to be the stereotype. Not to forget, the layered full length dress which would obviously, make me an excellent dancer too. One two cha cha cha

3. Have a successful solo singing performance: I usually tell people that my passion is dancing. It's true to an extent but it is also so because I know I don't suck at it. That guarantees me against snide remarks like "for someone who seems to love dancing so much, you aren't so good at it". Secretly, I worship singers. They come second only to the music composers. I just don't get it, how the hell does one compose a tune, forget a full length song! Back to the point, the third wish in my bucket list is to one day be a part of a concert, where people buy exorbitantly priced tickets to listen to me sing and actually clap at the end of it. I wouldn't mind an "encore" or standing ovation too.

4. Be a geek: This might confuse you and I wouldn't blame you. Who, in their right mind, would want to be a geek? Me. By a geek, I don't mean someone who doesn't have a life and is stuck to their system 24x7. That is the most common yet most stereotyped definition of geeks, with respect to software engineers or people related to this industry. My definition of geek is slightly different. A geek to me is one who knows the technicalities of whatever he/she dabbles in, in and out. You ask one single question, and she comes up with various possible explanations. I can never be like that. I get bored very fast and any process that goes on for too long in my life, bores me to death. So I find it remarkable that people can actually stick to a field and become renowned experts in it. Someday, I would like people to hold me in similar awe.

5. Be a child prodigy: While I am totally against the exploitation of children by parents, I am ready to make an exception, if it were to be me. Right from Michael Jackson to even our now bald, now dancing Britney Spears to the very talented-who-now-sings-only-irritating-songs Sunidhi Chauhan, child prodigies are way too cool. Of course, nowadays you cannot tell an authentic one to a fabricated one, thanks to the plethora of reality shows now on air. A little digression from the topic for a special note to the makers of these shows-shoving a script down a child's throat for cheap entertainment is so not done. Back to the point, I wouldn't mind if someone were to go back in time, perform a miracle and turn me into one. Sure, I wouldn't have too many friends and would probably not finish my studies properly, but hey, I would have some talent!

Summing up my short but impossible list, I would like to be a Latino child with thick British accent who sings exceptionally well. If it's OK with everyone, can I slip in "the first woman to go out into space" too?

Dye me black

2009-01-18T11:50:00.002+05:30

For starters, I still haven't spotted my first gray hair as yet. It's a little surprising, given the fact that almost every one I know has had at least one, for sometime now. I am not referring to people above thirty, I am talking about people my age. The reasons might be plenty - pollution, bad diet, genes, and most importantly, stress. So I think that's where I score over the others.

How does it feel when you spot you first gray hair? Do you go ballistic, crying out in agony "Why me God, why meeeeeeeeeeeeee"? Or do you just perform a quick mental calculation, taking into account the cost of hair dye into your monthly expenditure?

Hair dye. Of all the funny inventions that man can be accused of coming up with, this one sits right up there on top. Who thought of it? What was the thought process that was going on? "Hmm..if I just paint my hair, no one will notice how old I am!"? Personally, I feel hair dying is justified when you look your age, or rather, when you can carry it off. So that would be your 30's and perhaps even 40's, if you are watching what you eat and are blessed with a youthful look.

But let's face it, once you hit the 50's and your kids are through college and possibly working, what is that bottle of black hair dye still doing in your bathroom closet? You expect people to look at you and go "oh poor thing, he/she has black hair but terribly wrinkled skin. Must be an affliction which affects the terribly young"?

Before you ask me, let me tell you myself, my parents also belong to this category. Much to my chagrin, they paint their hair religiously every time the grays make an appearance. I have tried my best to convince my mother to try the Indira Gandhi look, if not the Nafisa Ali look and my father to go for the Richard Gere look, if not the S M Krishna one. I am not a kid anymore and I don't expect my parents to look like a kid's parents, either. But of course, they don't listen to me so I have given up. The only thing I can do is to resolve that when it's my turn, I'll go natural.

Aerobics!

2009-01-10T12:15:00.002+05:30

Here is the much anticipated, much awaited blog on my current pastime-passion-obsession(?). Aerobics!

Let me address the myths and the actual truths behind them:

Myth: Aerobics instructors are lean, mean, fighting machines, not to mention - hot!
Truth: Let me tell you about my instructor. A lady(first disappointment) of around *beep* years, where *beep* is most definitely not less than 28. Lean? No. Mean? Oh yes, more on that later. Fighting machine? Hmm..depends on your definition but I wouldn't like to be involved in a fight with her, for sure. She isn't fat per se, but when she wears those tight track pants, you wish she would do something about her tyres first, or at least go for the more flattering, loose pairs.

Myth: The class consists of good looking people, wearing tight, shiny spandex costumes.
Truth: You've got to be stupid if you believe this. Why would people join such a torturesome form of exercise if they were happy with the way they look? And coming to the costumes, well, they sometimes are just that. This message is to all those women who wear short tops that stopped fitting them five years ago - looking at your bulge spilling out unceremoniously makes me sick. Please think about the others in your class, the ones who are not in love with you, as opposed to you. More often than not, it's the I-know-I-am-hot crowd who cannot get used to the fact that age is taking it's toll, slowly but surely. Gravity sucks, get used to it. Nothing about the handful of men who are there because they dress appropriately. They realise it's a form of exercise and not a fashion show.

Myth: Adrenaline makes you feel happier or at least gives you a good rush
Truth: OK, I am not going to refute this established fact. Though, one look/meeting with my instructor and you wonder if adrenaline is an evil hormone, which makes you, well, evil! Her method of correcting anyone who commits the horrendous mistake of having the wrong posture/stance while exercising - a tight whack. No, I am not kidding and neither do I attend a course for toddlers. I am talking about a class of grown ups, minimum age 21 and a small-ish woman who is stricter than Hitler's mother(I have no clue how strict she was, but with a son like that, she must have been?). Thank heavens for small mercies that she never uses props like dumbells/exercise balls or the water canister to "mend our ways". Her hand is good enough. A whack, on that part which is in the wrong position - foot, arm, leg, hand, back, shoulder, anything. So in addition to concentrating on not falling, we have to keep an eye out for the bolt from blue.

Myth: Aerobics is easy-schmeasy.
Truth: Come to my class. You do it, while I stand back and laugh. One wrong step and you can bid goodbye to walking for the next few days at least. There are plenty of opportunities to screw up, very limited to get it right. Since it's a group activity, your success also depends on your neighbour's. You go too fast, you collide into them, with a result that varies from a slight bump to a broken nose. You go too slow, well, they collide with you, with similar results ! So what's the middle path? You try to surround yourself with the veterans. Otherwise, you have four noobs around you(front, back, left, right), with each apparently conspiring to send you to the closest hospital. Oh and never go near the burly men. No offence to them, or you, if you are one of them, but those guys sweat buckets! Since no one has the time to stop and wipe it off, it falls on the smooth floor and guess what, it's you who steps on it and slips all the time.

Well then, this is it. There are more details to it like the common corridor between the men's and women's changing room, which has only the non good looking men in only towels walking around and the weirdo who attends the class, who does not leave any opportunity to "help" the other men while stretching. But if I go on about them, this post will never end. So I end it by answering a question which I am pretty sure is on your mind - If I hate it so much, why do I go? Ans: Who said I hate it? I love each moment of it! :D

New Year's Eve

2008-12-31T23:21:00.002+05:30

To most of the people, it means welcoming the new year in style. Parties, dinners, get together, something, anything. Song, dance, drink, laugh and generally make merry. And yet, to some, it is totally different. No, don't worry, I am not going to talk about the downtrodden class and how miserable their lives are. Here are a few of the observations made on new year's eve, that I found amusing:

The chicken shops: I don't know what is the relation between chicken and new year! Every little shop selling meat is teeming with people! And when I say "little" I mean the ones titled KentAcky fried chicken. No kidding, every time I pass that sign, I chuckle.

The Bakeries: All the Iyengar bakeries, fake or genuine are making big business today. The name Iyengar bakery in itself is ironic because usually most of these bakeries serve delicacies with egg as an ingredient, which is not to be consumed by them. There are little extensions of the shop, covered by shamiana(tent) selling cakes in every imaginable colour. I don't mean to be condescending, but they really looked anything but edible! I think I even spotted a bright green one shaped like a guitar. Rock On? :)

The loners: Near every shop, or any other commercial establishment, there will be one guy, just this one guy. Either seated or leaning against a pole or a wall. Smoking or just doing nothing. Age no bar, class no bar. I spotted a kind of good looking guy and I also saw a guy who looked like the police department in 11 nations are looking for him. But the guy is there, without fail.

The funnily dressed: nah, this isn't going to be a tirade against the badly dressed or a lecture on fashion consciousness or dressing etiquette's. By "funnily dressed", I mean the ones who dress in a way that does not suit the occasion. Confused? Take the example of this family - mother, dressed in fake silk, adorned with jewels, daughter, pre teens, dressed in something bright and new, with an old scarf over the head. It's cold you see. The father takes the prize though. He is dressed in the Sabarimala pilgrim clothes, all black. Where are they heading to? The local mall, of course.

These are your normal people, trying to make a big day out of something, which actually does not bear too much significance in their mundane lives. But these are also the people, who make the most of it.

Astral Projections!

2008-12-04T22:11:00.003+05:30

Even I don't know what the title means, I found the term being used by a blogger and just decided that I had to use it somewhere! But one thing I do know is, applying the general rules of etymology, the word is connected to astrology,stars, constellations, the whole deal. Which brings me to the point of this post.

Did you happen to catch the smiley? "The what?", you may ask and maybe rightly so. Well I won't go into the technicalities of it but a few days back Mars, Venus and our Moon decided to show off a little in the sky and went ahead and formed a smiley-the two planets being the eyes and our over glamourised satellite being the lips/grin/smile. I didn't even know about it till people told me. "look at the sky!" came one message.

This message came at a time when I was returning to my cubicle after my aerobics class. For those of you who haven't been through this torture session, let me tell you, it is, well, torturous! That day in particular I remember being really, and I mean, really exhausted after the workout (quick digression for mental note: dedicate a post to aerobics classes) and here I get a message asking me to move a part of my body. Making sure it wasn't sent by my sadistic instructor, I looked up. First, up ahead. Then, to the right. To the left. Nothing. The only part left to check was overhead and behind. Since I feel a little tipsy when I am tired, I was scared that I might trip over and fall if I try to do so while walking, so I decided to sneak a peek when I change the direction of my path. And then I looked.

No, this isn't the part where I go "it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen". Yeah, it was nice, actually, it was pretty amusing. I am quite sure I stood there for a good two seconds extra, chuckling to myself, thinking how silly the sky looked. But I am the kind of person who gets amused by the weighing scale they use in the courier office, so I won't read too much into this experience. But it was better than the others:

The Meteor Shower: This topic makes my blood boil. Take a 13-14 year old girl, addiction to television, easily excitable and an overhyped phenomenon. What do you get? Major disappointment! I stayed up almost the whole night, during winter, craning my tender neck upwards towards east, west, north, south, every direction possible, hoping to catch "one of the most spectacular display of nature's fireworks" in the sky and what do I get? One shooting star, which, now that I think about it and analyse that situation, could have been a figment of my imagination or hallucination, owing to exhaustion! The next day the sheepish news reporters admit that it was more prominent and visible over certain areas of Taiwan and China. Well thank you 哑的驴!

Solar Eclipse: Contrary to what they show in television series like Heroes, it doesn't envelope the whole sky and look like a beautiful diamond ring, straight out of Dubai's finest jewelry store! OK, it does happen, but only if you happen to live in Greenland or Alaska or the Moon! Other places, you get superstitious elders who ask you to bathe(or is it not bathe?) on that day, super excited adults dragging their kids to the local planetarium for the "once in a lifetime experience", weird glasses made of colored, transparent cellophane paper and contraptions which would make the cave man wonder if he committed a mistake by inventing the wheel. And of course the people from Doordarshan, who drone on in such a manner that it would put hardcore insomniacs to sleep! If they are to be believed, witnessing a partial (percentage ranging from 5-15, max. I think) solar eclipse is a greater achievement than Deve Gowda not sleeping in the parliament. Umm..kinda lost my train of thoughts there.

The point is, next time anyone gets all enthusiastic about any kind of event or phenomenon related to any heavnly body in the sky, I'll ask them to take a pic, maybe record a few words, take a video, and mail it to me.

As I see it

2008-11-29T23:47:00.004+05:30

Happiness isn't just the ability to smile through hardships, it is also the ability to hide the effort

Sorrow isn't just crying over a loss, it is also the wish to not think about it, to avoid the tears

Sacrifice isn't just giving up something you love for someone you love, it is also the act of never letting them know

Anger isn't just yelling and throwing things around, it is also the feeling of helplessness that accompanies it

Ego isn't just the inability to admit you were wrong, it is also the stubborn belief that you were right

Faith isn't just the act of holding on, it is also the strength to let go

Distance isn't just the barrier in between, it is also the gaps you had failed to see

Fear isn't just the shadow that scares you in the dark, it is also your own image that makes the shadow

Truth isn't just what everyone wants to speak, it is also what no one wants to hear

Jealousy isn't just wanting what the other has, it is also wanting to destroy what cannot be yours

Love isn't just about giving up your whole self, it is also about accepting the other

Friendship isn't just about saying what you would do, it is also about doing what you don't say

Character isn't just what you show yourself to be, it is also what others see you as

Situation: Cynical

2008-11-10T20:30:00.003+05:30

I would be so freaking rich if I had a nickel everytime:

1. Someone did a quick hand maneuver on spotting a temple/church/any other place of worship while passing it by.

2. Someone said sorry and did the quick hand-to-forehead maneuver on mistakenly hitting me/ kicking me/ their foot coming in contact with any single cell of my body.

3. Someone said the F word. For the record, I don't.

4. Someone asked me "How are you?", said "Sorry" and "Thank You" and not mean it. Not in the same order, Einstein!

5. Someone gave me a fake smile. OK, sometimes even I am guilty of it.

6. Someone expressed surprise at me being a twin. Yeah, it's a little different, but really? That fascinating eh?

7. Someone joked about one twin feeling the pain when the other is hurt. Yup, so original. Har Har.

8. Someone asked me "what platform do you work on?". Seriously, you have no idea how irritating it is to answer that question. Unless you want to recruit me, do you really care?

9. Someone asked me if I know so and so person in my company. Dear Uncle/Aunty, there are at least 90,000 other employees! Providing their nickname, height, colour and weight does not help in any way either!

10. Someone commented on my smile. Don't get me wrong, I love all the attention. You can keep talking about it. No complaints. I am just making a list to get rich, you know. Don't mind.

11. Some ignorant half-desi-who-thinks-he-knows-my-country makes some random, derogatory comment which is lapped up by the media. Dude(yeah, I said "dude"), if you don't live here and do nothing to improve the situation, you don't get to talk. Comprehende?

12. Someone(Indian resident) sent me the Obama vs Bush pics. I am waiting for the honeymoon period to get over. We'll see how much you like this man after that.

13. Someone gave me gyan on the reasons of the collapse of Lehmann Brothers and the current economic crisis. I have access to Wikipedia too, you know.

14. I meet a hypocrite. If you are so concerned about child labour, pay for your maid's child's education, don't preach. We have Miss India's for that.

15. A Hollywood star flaunts their United Colours of Benetton adopted child. Get your house in order first, you rehab regular, now married, now divorced, now happy, now gay freak.

First time!

2008-11-03T21:12:00.004+05:30

They say that the first impression is the last impression. OK, that was just to give a nice, serious start to the post. My problem with first impressions is this- it turns out that it isn't the first at all! Confused? It means that whenever I meet new people, they tell me something about me which is a little, er, bordering on creepy. So I am not exactly a stranger to them! This post can be best explained with the use of examples:

I:Year 2006; Company training
My friend, who was in the adjacent class, a class with only guys, wanted to get a little "info" about a girl in my class. Don't raise your eyebrows as yet, I can vouch for his harmlessness and the girl in question wasn't exactly a stranger. They studied in the same school, but he wasn't sure. So noble old me volunteered to help out. Now, it so happened that I barely knew the girl's name(we were a class of 80 plus girls) but wondering how tough could it be to talk to another one of the same species, went upto her:

Me: Hi, did you by any chance study in *bleep* school in Ranchi?
Stranger classmate: Yeah! How did you know?
Me: My friend, *bleep*, he told me. *Good words about my friend, introduction etc.*
SC: Oh ok, that's nice. Such a small world!
Me: Yeah. Oh by the way, silly me. I never introduced myself. I am Karuna. *sheepish grin*
SC: I know. *smug, suggestive smile*

II: Late 2006; Company provided room in the hostel
I had got "pity hostel". It's a long story, and an old one at that but for the time being, just know that I had got hostel for a limited period-one month. So here I was, huffing and puffing, dragging my luggage up three floors, lifting it one at a time(had it been a public place, one item would have disappeared by the time I got another). I did not know who my roommate would be and I did not care. To me people aren't a problem, if I can live with this mixture of species, specimen and subjects(of research) known as my family, I can live with anyone. There she was, sitting on her bed, chewing on an apple, amused by my state.

New roomie: Hi, are you moving in here?
Me(*gasp*): yeah, I shall be living here for a month.
NR: Ok, which batch?
Me: *details* What about you?
NR: *details* Which branch in college?
Me: *details* And you?
NR: *details* Aren't you from *college name*?
Me: Yeah! How did you know that? Have we met before?
NR: No, I have seen you on Orkut. *smug, suggestive smile*

III: Flashback time over, year 2008, month of October
It was my best friend's birthday. Everyone was busy so instead of a grand treat, we decided to have ice cream at the parlour known for its fantastic flavours. Of course, now that they know that we are getting addicted to it, the thugs have increased the prices to such an extent that paying for research to grow such ice cream trees would be cheaper! I seem to have got distracted, back to the point! The company involved all of her classmates from college, most of whom I knew just by name, and yours truly. Again, no people problem, so I did not expect to feel out of place and had no hesitation in tagging along. We were supposed to pick up one of her friends on the way.

Best Friend: Sorry I kept you waiting
Best Friend's Friend: No problem, I didn't have to wait that long
BF: *banter*
BFF: *banter* *banter*
Me: *wisecrack*
BF, BFF: ha ha
Me: oh I don't think we have been officially introduced before or met. Hi, I am Karuna.
BFF: that's ok, I know. We have never met but I have seen you a lot in college. *smug,suggestive smile*

Now my problem is this, all three times, the other person involved was a girl! Why are girls keeping a tab on me? Why is it that everytime I introduce myself, I am greeted with that smug smile? Why can't I be anonymous, for a change?

Yeah right. Weird as it may be, I have to admit, it's flattering to learn that people you barely or don't even know, know at least something about you. Famous or infamous, that, is a different point to ponder over, altogether!

Picture Pefect

2008-10-22T20:28:00.002+05:30

Nothing like a good vacation to beat the..err..blues? I am slightly apprehensive about using that term because, well, I don't usually have them. Workwise, life isn't hectic at all and yes, maybe the traffic woes do suck in all my energy and the long distance traveling get on my nereves from time to time but hey, you can't have it all, can you?

I had been away for a social obligation, also known as "family function" and decided that if I were to travel outside the city anyway, why not pull in some extra days of leave and convert it into a vacation. There was another reason for it but I failed miserably in that so let's not bring it up here.

My trip covered Udupi, Sringeri, Horanadu and Kudremukh. I won't convert this into a travelogue so more information, if needed, can be found on many good blogs and websites, but not here. Talking of travelogues, I really like them and would definitely do them one fine day, but when I am more prepared with facts, figures, anecdotes and passion.

All this traveling made me think about the one concept that may not hold much relevance these days - picture postcards. Actually, do you ever remember using them? The only time I bought them was when in dire need of good pictures for a Holiday Home Work project or some assignment for the House bulletin board. OK, maybe once or twice my parents were forced to buy the ones sold outside places of interest where we went as tourists. But even then, it was just the lure of the glossy finish. I had no clue then what you are supposed to do with them and I have no clue now.

Sure, I know that when you visit a place you buy postcards of that place and mail(old school) them to your friends, relatives and well wishers. But..umm..why? That is my question. Is it a direct "haha!we are here and you are not" rubbing it in action? Or a more cruel "you might never be able to afford coming here, so here is how it looks" pity gesture? So does that mean the list of people you mailed it to comprised of the same list of people you despised? Olden days, olden times. I guess we shall never know.

PS: I think if I search long and hard enough, I can find an old book of these picture postcards. The keywords are "hard enough". Yeah right.

Festivities!

2008-10-06T20:38:00.002+05:30

It is that time of the year again. OK, so maybe us Indians don't have a single "festive season" like Christmas in many parts of the world, but so what? I think these nine days, known as Navratri(translation nav-nine ratri-night), can be classified as one. This time of the year reminds me of my childhood for many reasons.

The autumn break during school days was always cleverly timed to coincide with these days. The autumn break followed the Half Yearly Exam, if I am not mistaken. So you did not even have the "stress"(heh) of having to deal with studies for an examination that mattered a lot in terms of weightage, towards the calculation of the final marks and rank in class. My god, talking about all these things makes me feel so old! These concepts seem so alien now and the time when they occurred, ancient.

Next in line in this assortment of memories is the Durga Puja. No, I am not a Bengali. It goes like this- the Residents Association in the colony where I lived as a kid had a good number of Bengalis. More importantly, there was a good sized park in our neighbourhood. Combine these two factors and voila! you get a pandal (tent) filled with smoke, Bengalis in their best dhotis, sarees(as the case may be), a big idol of Kali Ma(another name for Goddess Durga) killing Mahishasura(who, according to mythology, could not be killed by man, mortal or immortal), skits, magic shows and other wonderful things usually associated with a carnival. Now the most important part of it, at least to us kids, was the collection of toys that were sold outside the park. Mind you, these weren't anything close to what was usually sold in the local shops. They were based on the prevalent theme i.e. bow and arrow(made of plastic or cardboard), sword(either fluorescent coloured plastic ones or thick cardboard covered with shiny paper), mace(usually my weapon of choice), masks(weirdest looking animals and one of a clown) and so on and so forth.

If the toys weren't distracting enough, there was food. Now that I think about it, I can't really recollect what all items were sold inside the park but I do remember that you did not need too much money to have a mouth full of assorted goodies. Actually, you did not even need parents. Collect a little amount(and by "little", I mean it) of money from your parents, join the kids in the neighbourhood(age ranging from tiny tots to early teens), the older ones incharge of the younglings. Or so the parents thought. But the arrangement worked perfectly. Once the difficult tasks like crossing the road and walking in the darkness were crossed, the group broke up into smaller ones, each going in a different direction, based on their likes and dislikes.

The next memory, in stark contrast to above, is Gollu. A familiar term to Tamilians, it is the tradition of arranging dolls in the house during the nine days of Navratri. Don't ask me what it signifies, it did not matter. As kids, we used to hop from one house to another, of course belonging to friends and family members. The incentive was the prasad(offering in the form of food) usually distributed by the lady of the family. The catch and the rather boring part- you had to earn it. How? By singing a song. Not just any song but devotional songs. When you are in school, devotional songs are surprisingly never short in number. So sing we did. After a couple of years, we had a routine. We knew which songs were to be sung(clue: stick to songs dedicated to a Goddess) and in which order(start with Lord Ganesha).

And what about home? Well, the significant ritual observed at home is the Saraswati Puja. If Diwali is for parents then Navratri is for kids. You see Goddess Lakshmi(wealth and prosperity) is worshipped on Diwali but Goddess Saraswati(knowledge) reigns supreme during Navratri. We were supposed to keep one text book each in the puja room, which was to be removed only after the end of this phase. Which meant that you could not touch these books during these ten days. Could a student be any happier? One funny recollection that comes to mind is that every year, without fail, the mathematics text book held a prominent, permanent position in the pile of books.

Simpler times. You grow up, beliefs change. Traditions and rituals? Some remain, some don't.

Tailor made

2008-09-21T20:38:00.003+05:30

Species name: Tailors

Physical Attributes: measuring tape around the neck, pair of scissors in hand, senior members usually sport a pair of went-out-of-style-in-the-70s spectacles

Characteristic features: *sigh* And thus begins the story.

Why is it that everything associated with women in this world is cursed, one way or the other? Melodrama aside, think about it. I won't get into the dirty details but just focus my energy at one of them. Every woman has a different shape, and by every, I mean it. OK agreed, largely classified you have the usual small, medium and large. Sounds like you are ordering soft drink from the ridiculously over priced multiplexes, but never mind that. So anyone who wants a piece of garment to not look like the tent used at the cheaply organised festivals and functions, goes to a tailor.

You can imagine then what percentage makes up for these kind of people(women) and what onus of responsibility lies on the class of people who tailor to these needs. They know it. They know it very well. And that is exactly what gives them the air, the arrogance, the superior look about them.

A few questions that women everywhere face regarding tailors:

a.) Why are (most of the)women's clothes tailors men?
Ans: You really think a woman will want to make another look good, consciously? Come on, let's be honest. A man on the other hand would know just which part to enhance by his skills with the needle and thread and which ones to hide. It is taken for granted that he will do all that is possible and more. Inner beauty-shinner beauty, it's what outside that people pay attention to!

b.) Women are so paranoid about even sharing a seat with a stranger but totally at ease when another touches them all over, for measurements?
Ans: It's the dignity that is associated with the profession, there is no other reason for it. No other reason that I can think of, actually. Also, any respectable tailor will automatically assume a poker face expression when taking the measurements, implying "look lady, I am just doing my job here, no hanky panky intended". The body language says it clearly. Agreed, what goes on in his mind is anyone's guess but that applies for each and every man, doesn't it?

QnA aside, let's dig into the problem now. These tailors misuse their powers, grossly. Show me one tailor who has delivered the goods(err..don't know what other word to use for it) on time and I will show you Paris Hilton reading The Economist. It just does not happen! There is an unwritten rule that every one follows-leave a buffer of at least five days when you give something for stitching, call the tailor one day before the garment is due, haggle over the due date, tell him how urgently it is required, make frequent trips to the shop and on the 5th day(after the due date), collect your garment. Repeat the procedure all over again, every time.

Besides this, I now have a new problem. My tailor refuses to stitch my clothes..err..tight. Look I am not the kind of person who wears clothes that look like they will burst any moment but a girl's got to flaunt a little, right? No one wants to see a granny at *insert age here*! But the guy refuses to budge! The conversations at the tailoring shop makes the other customers grin and me, cringe in embarrassment!

Tailor: *measurement in cms*
Me: Tighter
Tailor: *tightens it by 0.487 micro cms*
Me: Tighter!
Tailor: *fatherly look; "girls these days"*
Me: Fine, enough

My woes never end.

Wine and whine

2008-09-13T22:25:00.003+05:30

Another year. As I was telling one friend, I am now officially un-young. OK so there may not be such a word but old doesn't suit me either. So as of now, there is a new word, whether you like it or not. Un-young. Someone who is not old, someone who still doesn't have gray hair but who cant boast of youthful energy like the good old times. Someone who climbs two flights of stairs and starts huffing and puffing. No wait, even the so called kids do that nowadays. Disqualify that point then.

I haven't been around since the past couple of weeks, if you hadn't noticed by the way. It wasn't intentional, I like scribbling here. The problem was, there was too much to scribble. There was so much negativity that I was afraid that I might spew too much venom and regret it later on. I do that sometimes. But I have good will power(*patting myself*). Hence the decision to abstain till the phase passes.

Well it did pass. Now that I try to recollect it, I don't know who or what upset me so much. I just remember being extremely cranky and hot headed for sometime. Oh there were the farewells of course. I hate to see good people go, really. Maybe it was a combination of who and what. Huh. I confused myself! Anyway, I am in the mood for some light hearted banter and observation so I present to you, the one thing that has impressed me a great deal lately-chivalry!

I won't dig up some lame Wiki entry to describe or define what chivalry is. If you don't know it already, please be "proactive"(ugh) enough to find out by yourself. My opinion about chivalry? We need it! See I am all for women's liberation, upliftment, feminism and all those things associated with ugly hags and lesbians. But to say that to walk shoulder to shoulder with men you need to let go and sacrifice these small privileges is akin to saying you need to give up chicken to eat beef! Doesn't make sense? Exactly!

And tell me something, how tough is it? How tough is it to keep the door open for the lady with you(irrespective of her relation with you, don't be partial towards/against partners/friends)? How tough is it to give way to the lady, even though both of you reached the threshold at the same time? How tough is it to make sure the lady is on her way home before you start for yours? How tough is it to not hurl abuses when in the presence of the fairer sex? OK, I give you the last one. People who appear to wash their tongues everyday with shit are not used to controlling their language. That's understandable. But you can make an effort, can't you?

Why should you? What do you stand to gain? There there, not everything in life is about loss and gain. Hmm..actually it is. So I shall tell you what you gain. You gain respect of women who think like me. You gain admiration, you gain the much needed second look. What second look? You know, the one where the girl looks at a guy with a weird expression on her face, judging him from top to bottom, thinking to herself "Hunh, not bad. Who would have thought he could be so considerate. Maybe.." . That look! Think about it. You have nothing to lose.

Meanwhile, it's getting a little chilly. Can you get me a blanket, please?

Multifaceted

2008-08-16T20:44:00.003+05:30

This post is regarding a very fascinating and interesting conversation I had with my friend yesterday. Don't worry, I don't plan to paste it here, but perhaps elaborate on it a bit.

Have you ever wondered how many faces you have? Broadly classified, there are two - the professional and the personal. Some of us have a huge difference between these two while a very fine line separates it for the rest. But difference, there is. Going further into it though, there are many more. For example, let us take the professional face. Do you behave the same way with your colleagues as well as with your boss?

The personal front is much more interesting. I don't know about you, but in my personal life there are only two types of people - family and friends. Sure, there are a few friends who are like family and there are a couple of family members who would easily transcend into the friends zone. But you see, it still leaves me with just two zones. One would assume that one's behaviour with people in these zones is uniform. Ah, that is where one is wrong.

Let me start with family. Do you behave, act, talk or respond in the same manner when with your parents and when with your siblings? I don't. There is the difference in age which acts as the factor, there is the difference in maturity(debatable), there is the difference in topics under discussion(or argument, as the case may be), there is the difference in opinion, there is the difference in tolerance(very important) and of course there is the difference in the respect accorded. Basically, there are lots of differences.

You still with me? OK, good. Now comes the part and realisation which takes people by surprise. The faces you wear when with your friends. I would not say that my behaviour or nature is totally different for each friend but I would say that it is not exactly the same for each one of them. It all depends on how and where the friendship started, what drove the two to come together, why are they(we?) still friends, what role each plays in it and so many more. For instance, I am a kid when with a couple of them, replete with talking nonsense, calling names, acting stupid etc. But with others, you wouldn't be wrong if you were to call me "aunt KB". The funny part is, both of these character traits define me equally well, there is no artificiality when I display one, there is no forced nature when I display the other.

It's probably because that what is needed and sometimes, that is what is expected. You act the way you do because you know it will be accepted, you know you will not be judged for it. Sometimes though, you act the way you should. Those who need to be protected, will be fiercely so. This is not a usual occurrence, as most of the people I am(or like to be) with are strong; emotionally/mentally. But for the couple of sweethearts who aren't, I take the role of the Dominator. On the other hand, people who know me well would vouch for it that I am not the kind of person who can be dominated. Surprise, I can be when I want to be. As I said before, a lot depends on the dynamics and requirement of the relation.

A lot is required for any relationship to work but a lot more is required to sustain it. It is easy to give up but much more difficult to give in. On one hand you cannot and should not diverge from your true nature but on the other you have to compromise. Life sure is complicated.

PS: Going through the draft, I do not know if it made any sense.

Do you remember?

2008-08-08T21:25:00.004+05:30

Well first for some good old gloating and a few updates. The gloating part - I have a weird memory. No, that's not something to be proud of and it isn't my point. What is so strange about my memory? You see, ask me what I was wearing on the day I joined my first company and I will tell you exactly. Ask me the first time I was slapped by my class teacher (which was in 3rd standard by the way) and I will even recollect the exact reason why and her name. Oh and that was one of the only three, ever. Ask me who I sat with first when I entered college and what she was wearing, ask me the reason I fought with my best friend in class four, ask me which dress I was wearing for my uncle's marriage in 1997, ask me anything. Well, anything not relevant, and I will remember.

Don't ask me dates. Don't ask me which day or date I was asked out for the first time in life(6th standard), don't ask me what my total in 10th/12th standard was, don't ask me to remember any phone remember other than my own, don't ask me the date I had my first major accident, don't even ask me my university seat number. OK, I lied about the USN. I think they expect dodos like me to be omnipresent and hence make them quite easy to recollect. Or maybe because I have used it at least 30 times(the figure is more, don't ask me by how much), counting all the exams, that it is carved in my memory for a very long time to come(never say forever, ever).

So on one hand there are the insignificant details and on the other, things that may and should matter to most people. I remember the ones that are irrelevant, that probably are stored in the archives section in most people's brains, to be dug up only when required, which includes family gatherings, school/college reunions, accompanied by an "ohhh..yeah..I think I faintly remember that" or "what lies! You are concocting your own stories", depending on the situation being for or against you, respectively.

But, ladies and gentlemen, inspite of this handicap, one thing I do pride in is remembering birthdays. I think I should put a disclaimer there because even that comes with "conditions apply" but given the number of people I have come to know over the years, I think I am doing pretty well for myself and for others. The "for others" is a clever part I put in there, did you notice? No? Never mind. It's because I have been entrusted(sometimes I take it upon myself) the responsibility of remembering them. I send mails to other friends, I ping them, in short I do everything a Short(pun intended) Messaging Service reminder usually does.

Pretty neat, eh? That's what you think. When you have such a record, you cannot screw up. One birthday you forget, and boom, all hell breaks loose. "How could you forget?". And it has the ripple effect. Blame the reminder service. Shoot the messenger. Nevertheless I wouldn't stop doing it, I wouldn't stop taking the responsibility. I like the appreciation that comes when I remember and remind, I like the gratitude that my friends express. I am the puppy that will continue to jump for a treat, even after you have slapped it mildly on the nose for chewing up the sofa. Quite pathetic, but that's me.

In the "updates" section, I met a friend recently after a long time and he made me believe in what I had always known to be true. All you need is someone who'll listen to you. It was a good day.

PS: I digress a lot, don't I?

Too late too soon

2008-08-02T22:20:00.003+05:30

What if one day you turn into that which you portray to be? Wouldn't that be an ideal situation?

Apparently not. All throughout my as yet short life I have seen those who have been emotionally weak being taken advantage of. I knew it then as I know now, that I wouldn't be one of them. I wouldn't be the one to be seen crying, I wouldn't be the one being taken for granted and I most definitely won't be the one emotionally blackmailed. Being a girl, it was as easy as a rabbit trying to pass of as a porcupine.

How do you do it? You hide your weaknesses. You cringe not in public. You put on a brave face and you pretend that it did not matter. You learn to laugh at yourself, you trivialise things that may seem important. You mislead people into believing your priorities lie elsewhere. Most importantly, you do not put on display your armour, because with it, so will the chinks be displayed. Slowly over time, you start winning.

People start getting convinced that you are not to be thrown around. They think twice before launching those wisecracks. They hold back and they warn others. Word gets around and you are smiling. This is what you wanted. You may be the evil one for those people but you are content with the fact that not all of them think that way. You had assumed that there were a few who see through you. A few who know why you are doing this. You are doing this because you are scared. You have had reasons to be scared. Some of the fears may be unjustified, but aren't most of them anyway?

Then one day it hits you. There is no difference between the two. The two images, the two persona's, the two different people you thought you were. It hits you because they told you so. They told you things that you thought were meant to be looked and observed by strangers. Your guard is seen as indifference, the shell which you created over the years seen as insensitivity.

At first you are offended but then you see what they do. It isn't their fault. It is you. The ways that you made others follow, you forgot to follow yourself. You had expectations. Never have expectations. You started asking questions. Questions are never good, especially when you don't like the answers. Maybe it's good to be the villain. Everyone loves heroes, but what good would he be without the villain. I shall not change. Let me stick to at least one thing I had promised myself.

I could have not posted this or I could have posted this on the top. But I choose to hide it here. Everyone wins.

Full Circle

2008-07-27T21:33:00.002+05:30

Ever wondered what are the different stages that lead to someone turning from a stranger into your friend?

Stranger: You see someone, you know someone through someone else, you hear about someone. You form opinions and you form impressions. You don't want to confirm either of those, as you don't care, right? You meet strangers everyday, you encounter strangers everywhere. Some you remember, most you forget. You have never spoken, you have never chatted. You know each other as entities, you know each other as individuals. You don't even know the name.

Acquaintance: You start recongnising a face or few faces. You acknowledge someone's presence. There is eye contact, there is a pause in the swift glancing phase that is reserved for strangers. You are introduced or after seeing someone at the same place, having common friends, real or online, you reach out to make contact. There is that hesitation, there is that formality. You are reserved, you wonder how much you should open up. You are anxious, yet you are pleasantly nervous. A new person, a new experience, a new character. A new colour added to the already vivid palette. An exciting phase, a fascinating turn. A time of discoveries, a period of revelations. You either stop or you go ahead. There is no middle path, there is no "friendly acquaintance". If you find the comfort zone, you give it the green signal.

Friend: What makes a friend, well, a friend? If you would believe all the sappy Archie's and Hallmarks cards and other products, it's the differences, it's the similarities. If you ask me, I don't know. Each friend of mine is so totally different from another, I surprise myself by their sheer presence around me. But this isn't about me. How does an acquaintance become a friend? Just by being around? Is that really being a friend? Sometimes, yes. You get used to someone's constant presence that you don't think about or realise when that person becomes a friend. At other times, it isn't so simple. There are people for whom it matters. It matters who comes close and who doesn't. There are people who will not let the wall down unless they are sure it is worth it. There are people who will still maintain distance, who will still draw boundaries, who will still put on their masks and who will still pretend. There are such people.

Acquaintance: Why am I back to it? Because this is about the circle. The circle of friendship. And a circle has to come back to where it started from. You make so many friends. You make friends as a kid, well as a kid that's all you know. Other than to make faces. Make faces and make friends. Make friends and make decisions, that is when you are all grown up. Decisions which help you personally, decisions that help you professionally. Decisions that you would still stand by, not because you believe in them, but because your ego tells you so. Decisions, that, you come to realise, are isolating you. You have too much on your hands now. You opted for them, but that doesn't change anything, it still is too much. You decide to unload. Yet another decision. You unload, and how. You keep a few, a few that you choose for reasons of your own. Not because they "complete you", not because they have "got your back". Just because you wouldn't know what to do without them and that scares you. The not so lucky rest? You blame it on the changing lives, the changing priorities, the changing lifestyle, the changing choices. You blame it on everything but yourself. From friends to acquaintances.

Strangers: As opposed to the stranger to acquaintance phase, which can be ridiculously long, this is the fastest amongst all. The moment you decide to dethrone the chosen few, it's all downhill from there. You can blame distance, physical or emotional. You are right when you blame the distance. Have you ever tried enlarging a hole in a cloth? This is exactly how it works. It does not matter how the hole got there in the first place. It can be an accident or it can be intentional, subconciously intentional. All that matter is that there is a hole. A hole which lures you, entices you to enlarge it. And you do it, you give in. Every time, little by little, till it is so big that it gapes at you, obvious that it is now irreparable. That is when you know, that is your cue. You don't regret it and given a choice you would do it all over again but for now, you know it's time to move on.

A quaint tense

2008-07-12T20:24:00.003+05:30

The success of Orkut in India has confirmed what all of us already knew - we like gossip, we like to be informed about people we barely know and we absolutely love showing off through photographs. Of course, now Google has gone ahead and introduced the concept of privacy and locked accounts, which is why there has been a drastic reduction in the number of logins and users. Facebook may be the bomb in US and other countries but ask the new users and they will tell you that it is way too complicated and yes, private!

Personally I like both. I am still loyal to Orkut but I love the privacy options offered by Facebook. No matter how many conspiracy theories I am fed, I will continue to trust Google and all of the services it comes up with. To me Google is like the neighbourhood departmental store. New, fancy, posh supermarkets and hypermarkets may come and go but they can never be the same as the one single shop, known by many names - provisions, departmental store, Ganesh store etc where you can get anything and everything, from pencils to shaving blades, under the sun and a single trustworthy roof.

What is the agenda of this post and why am I rambling on and on about Orkut? As usual, building the foundation for what is to come. If the number of "friends" on this very active social networking site was a measure of popularity, every loser with unlimited access to the internet and a passion for new "fraindship" would be a celebrity in his own right. But obviously that is not the case. We (used to?)add people just on the basis of the most trivial things. Heck, sometimes I don't even remember the full name and/or details of the person whose profile pic (real or fake) pops up on the right side. From juniors/seniors in college to those we left behind way back, during our school days.

Batch mates/seniors/juniors from school. Yes, that's where I wanted to get to. We might have kept track of the lives of our friends and many may still be in touch with those, but not acquaintances. College days most of us still remember, if not vividly. Now school days, those are days everyone claims to want to relive. I don't know how many of us actually mean it or whether we say it just to sound very wise and all grown up, but let's move on.

I will confess straight out. I don't like it, I don't like it at all. Till recently, I had the comfort and pleasure of imagining people I did not like or get along with to be doing not so good in life. Well now my mirage has been spoilt, my hopes have been shattered! People who can barely talk clean are jet setting all around the world, people who struggled to get through school are pursuing their masters degree.

Is it wrong for me to wish bad luck on those I may not like based on more often than not frivolous reasons? You bet! Is it possible that these very people have changed for the better over the years and deserve all that they have achieved? Maybe. Does this logic make me feel any better and consider life as being fair? Hell no!

PS: My blog went through an identity crisis and after much soul searching and theme searching reverted to the original one. Why mess with something that works, eh?

Southern Spice

2008-07-05T23:21:00.003+05:30

The ire and angst in this post is directed at just one category of people - actresses down here in South India. I should have timed this well and perhaps written it near Women's day way ahead in March, but bleh, I didn't. First the description of these people, characteristics which describe one, skills which describe all.

Vital statistics: If you are waiting for something like 36-24-36, I am guessing you are either a Martian or you have never seen any movie and/or the actress. They come in all sizes, even size zero. The only difference here is, size 0 is preceded by double digits. Deprived perverts that they are, the cameraman, at the behest of the director of course, never fails to zoom in on the assets, top-down shot, more often than not in the introduction shot. Now I don't know if that's the reason why these women refuse to slim down. Didn't get my point? Here's why - the wider you are, the farther the camera has to go or rather more out of focus the cameraman has to go. This saves the woman her modesty and at the same time the cost of a trainer and gym fee. Clever, eh? There are two words that aptly describe these healthy women - thunder thighs.

The irritating voice: Who in this messed up world came up with the thought/idea/plan that a shrill voice is the trait of a sexy/sweet/anything/ideal woman? I may have a possible explanation or reason behind it. Let's break it down first.

a.) Who dubs for these females?
- Not them, of course! Shooting for so many days, trying to hunt for a rich enough businessman to marry, keeping the date at all those eat outs, all these take time dear friends. An actress, no matter how good her manager, which in most cases is another horizontally challenged woman-her mother, just does not have the time to lend her voice to the movie. So there are these two women(I have no concrete evidence to support my theory, it's just a guess) who can be Pooja, Shwetha, Manasa, Pushpa, Tony(err..), all in a day! Since their "skills" aren't world class, why would they be here in that case, all they manage to do is come up with this one nasal voice, the voice that is suited for Jerry(of Tom n Jerry fame) or that irritating anchor who comes on Headlines Today! On second thoughts, perhaps it's one single guy giving all those voices. Hmm..one single(for obvious reasons), twisted guy. That makes more sense!

b.) Chauvinism: This is a theory the feminist in me has come out with. I tried to think on the lines of a typical MCP, in most cases, most men. Who needs to be saved, protected, cared for? Women, of course! Wouldn't a woman who has a normal voice not seem feminine enough? Well if she can shout loudly and make herself heard(figuratively and literally) instead of shrieking and waiting to be rescued, she can as well protect herself and that would mean not needing a man. Oh gosh! No no, we need the shrill voices! Man has always been the hunter and he shall always take care of the weaker beings.

Import: When you import something of high quality, it makes sense. But when you import refuse from your brother from another mother, Bollywood, it beats all logic. It is not just a one time occurrence. It has been happening since decades! If you are an actress in Hindi movies, rather an upcoming actress, and you and your career have failed to capture the imagination of the audience, don't lose heart. Pack your bags, grab those cans of butter, ghee, fat inducing products and head down south. The fairer you are and more alienated from this land of the lungis, the higher your chances and prospective rate of success. You don't have to bother about your diction, vocabulary,everything is forgiven, as long as you flash that smile, not talk about "western" concepts like sex and learn one single line of each language, to be spoken at premieres and press gatherings.

Costumes: I have actually watched a couple of interviews of contemporary actresses and let me tell you this, it's not their fault. They may not dress like divas, but they surely don't wear anything close to the ghastly costumes that they are handed out during the shooting of the movie. The same cannot be said about the yesteryear actresses. I don't think a few years back there was even a concept of designers. If I am not mistaken, the late 80s and early 90s were the Dark Ages for the fashion industry. Unluckily, the southern film industry(Kannada in particular) still seems to be under its grasp. Garish colours, mismatched clothes, too short, too long, too loose, too fit. Stylish? Not from any angle. The situation is the worst when the girl has to be depicted as a rural character. Show me one rural woman/girl who dresses like that and I will show you a cow with four horns!

The only argument I could think of, in their defense, is that if the chariot continues to run smoothly, why would anyone in their right mind poke a stick into the wheel, just for change, just to make things seem "better"? Nobody likes change, except perhaps a baby in need of fresh diapers. And that's the way the cookie crumbles.

What's with the..

2008-07-02T15:22:00.004+05:30

What's with the number of vegetables that are running amuck? I miss the days when there were three primary vegetables -tomato, potato and onion. How does it concern me? Oh well, I was discussing with my teammates during one of our tea breaks about the adulteration in the ketchup/ sauce. For those of you who aren't aware of it, the tomato sauce that you get in the local bakeries and/or food courts is adulterated with the pulp-juice mish-mash of a certain vegetable called "ghia"(Hindi). Among the five of us present there, three (including yours truly) can speak and understand Hindi quite well, so there was no problem. Or so I thought. The trouble started when one remarked "what is Ghia known as in English?". For the record, I still don’t know the answer. The answers, or rather the guesses, ranged from gourd to even pumpkin! Did you also know that there are at least three different “relatives” of the simple pumpkin? Those who know me know this fact well that I am really bad at describing colors. Now you can add vegetables to the list. To me, everything has a parent and the rest of the vegetables just fall in the extended family. And out of those families, anyone who is not part of the beans family is most welcome. Beans. Huh. Why would anyone in their right mind want to eat them?

What’s with the tradition of wearing the red and cream/white bangles for 180 days(?) after marriage? To make this clear, I respect traditions. If it weren’t for traditions, there wouldn’t be much of a difference between you and me! It would be a very boring place and even more boring would be functions and festivals. So there, that was my disclaimer. My problem is with this one particular tradition which is followed with great gusto at my workplace. First the basics – you don’t have to be a fashionista to know that bangles and western wear don’t go along. Yes, I am not blind to the emerging trends which can be summarized in one word – porridge, where anything can be mixed with everything. But ladies, a bangle can go with jeans, it may even look nice. A pair of bangles, maybe. A few of them, OK, you are pushing it a bit but we’ll let it pass. Two dozens of bangles, looking as ethnic and traditional as can be with jeans or western formals? NO! Nobody is forcing you to forget your “culture” and abstain from wearing them. Yes, we know that you want to flaunt your newly acquired change in status. But why torture the aesthetic sense of passers by, strangers as they may be? Wear the traditional Indian attire for the duration that you are to wear those bangles. There is no shame in wearing salwar kameez/chudidar kurta on a “casual” Friday! If you are proud enough of your regionality to be able to wear those many number of bangles, be proud enough of your nationality to wear appropriate and matching clothes with them!

What’s with the celebrities’ blogs? I have been meaning to talk about this for quite some time. I am all for the spread of this medium and all that jazz but come on, we all know the truth. They aren’t blogging because they want to express their creativity/ write a journal/ connect to/ make money(like they need it!). They are writing for all the wrong reasons. One is in it because he was paid by the particular website, for promotional purposes, obviously. The other one just wants to demean his colleagues. Yet another wants to get back at his detractors. What I want to see is how long will they keep it up. From the signs, it appears to be a fad to them. Cash in, drag it, sign out. Fair enough, everyone is entitled to a piece of the pie. The visitors’ comments are, as in many cases, much more precious than the original article itself. Most common amongst them – the fan and the moocher. One is here out of awe and admiration, the other just wants to spread the word and perhaps divert a little traffic and attention for his interest.

I think these three should do for today. I have a few more to rattle off, but some other time. One question that may arise after you read this – what is it to you? “Let people be”? Of course, let them be. But I damn well am entitled to my opinion, aren’t I!

Weekday journal

2008-06-26T21:01:00.002+05:30

It is quite unlike me to update this blog on a weekday. Don't ask me why I am doing it. Maybe it's that nagging little urge which I have come to call as the blogger's itch. Eh, don't get wrong ideas, all I was referring to was the want or rather the need to express.

I had set out last Sunday to write one, but as "circumstances" would have it, it never saw the light of the day. Those circumstances include me trying to figure out good proxies to use for Orkut, Twitter, Facebook and any other social networking site which guarantees some good entertainment by sneaking a peek into the artificial online lives of friends and acquaintances alike. My fruits of labour(oh, what heavy words) were mixed in their sweetness. I did figure out everything, with a little help of course, but as a result lost the draft I was composing to upload. So there, that's the excuse I came up with.

Coming to the reason why I was so desperate to find proxies - I was working last Sunday. OK, I lied a little bit, I was in office on Sunday. I barely have work on weekdays and you expect me to actually put in efforts on a Sunday? Ha!

I don't know how many of you have gone through it, but it's the worst feeling in the world! The campus was deserted, and this, in a place which is teeming with people on a regular day! Where you would expect to see at least a bunch of people, you see emptiness. From the parking lot to the food court, nothing! Will Smith from I am Legend and that weird guy from 28 days Later, I empathise with you. At least they had zombies to have fun with, I had just the hum of my computer.

The day was doomed from the start itself. I step out of my bus and land into the empty depot of my company and *snap* goes my footwear. Wardrobe malfunctions of other kinds may be glamorous but when you are in the middle of a big empty space and are just about to cover a whole lot distance more, with no cobbler for miles around, you know you are in trouble. Just to set the record straight, I am not one of those girls(women?) who wear slippers that look like they are made from hay and have heels that can put the daintiest of ladders to shame. I go for sturdiness, I go for comfort(if only men came with such specifications..ahem..never mind!).

Dragging one foot and marching with the other, I walked on. In front of me was the monster that there was no chance I could overcome in my present state - the skyway. Imagine 50 stairs up, 10 feet walk and 50 steps down. Now imagine covering this distance with the disadvantage of having only one functional shoe. Not a pretty sight, not a pretty sight at all!

While I stood at the bottom of the staircase, the security guard left his place and came to me, wondering what the lonely soul was upto. I didn't see him grab his gun or walkie-talkie, so I assume he deemed me harmless enough. One look and he knew what he was dealing with. Being a local citizen and of course, a girl, I didn't have to do much to win his sympathy. A pro that he was, he shot off directions to me and protected my footwear while I went to get the equipment.

Not following what I said? Well, I left my footwear under his care, went barefoot to the local shop(second from the right, according to Mr. Knowledgeable), purchased super glue and safety pins( just in case) and returned to fix it. If I wasn't already impressed and humbled by his gesture and common sense, he went on to guess where I was from i.e. my native place. Oh well, I guess my accent and use of words gave it away, but still, you have got to give the guy some credit!

So captain presence of mind saved the day and cinderella went in search of her prince charming to the dark, lonely castle. They lived happily ever after? Come on, let's be real, shall we? Ate too much of blogspace(and perhaps your brain) already, so let's just close this chapter here. The End.

My Principles

2008-06-14T11:12:00.002+05:30

I have set out to explain in this blog, more to myself than others, the reasons behind why I am the way I am(no need to call those lawyers Eminem, I am not sabotaging your song).

I am a girl in my quarterly-twenties(?) who has lots of friends, who loves to have a good time(hold on, this isn't the "about me" section) and yet who stays clear of alcoholic drinks and cigarettes. It is a well known fact among my friends, and for which sometimes I am teased, that smoking is the biggest turn off to me. I would rather go out with a person who picks his nose in public than someone who smokes! The smell makes me sick and the sight of someone smoking, even more so.

I have lost count of the number of times new acquaintances and old friends have expressed surprised that I don't drink. That may be attributed to two facts - a.) I act high and stupid even in the absence of alcohol and b.) I don't come across as the "type" who wouldn't drink. My abstention from drinking originated from a personal reason but you know how it works, people change, opinions change, principles get altered, if not abandoned. Yet, I have stuck to mine. Strange but true.

Next on the list is my inability, actually my reluctance, to lie. Sure, I can whip up amazing excuses in nanoseconds and deliver them with a poker straight face. But the guilt that accompanies it feels like the devil wrenching my heart out. A case in example, and which used to occur ever so frequently, were the reasons I used to give after an unplanned leave, to my manager.

I have been labeled loud mouth and many other adjectives that seem more colourful in the local languages. I would rather not speak than lie. Maybe that's the reason why people who don't know me too well, label me as the silent, docile kind of person. It amuses me no end! I don't believe in diplomacy, in my opinion it is something only diplomats should practice. This has never landed me in trouble because I also happen to be a practical person. I may have my values/principles, if that's what you can call them, but I am not foolish(conditions apply).

All of this has got nothing to do with my family or my upbringing. We aren't a bunch of Gandhians who wouldn't wear anything other than khadi or not touch any foreign products. The only reason I can think of is the one belief that, well, even I can't explain. Atheism. Don't ask me why or don't ask me how. All I know is that I have been a non believer for a very long time, with no recollection of when it happened. Ok, too dramatic.

But according to me, that's the one piece of thread that holds all the other beads together. You have a God you believe in, one you know will protect you. To me, it's all me. I am answerable only to me. If or when something goes wrong, I have no one to blame, no one to pray to. No one is responsible for the consequences of my actions, but me. That puts me in a position of power, with respect to my life, but that also puts me in a position of responsibility.

Simply put, my non-belief is the reason behind my beliefs.

Average Jane

2008-06-08T22:18:00.003+05:30

This was a thought planted in my mind by a friend, in one of our numerous lunch discussions, about nothing. He claims that he is the most average guy you can find. Well there's news for you my friend, I make the "A" in average seem extraordinary! Here's why

- Looks: Let's start with the most basic, shallow means used to judge another person. What? Don't give me the holier than thou "I don't judge people and neither should you" look! All of us are judgmental, you know it. I come in the not so attractive that men swoon when I pass by and yet not so ugly that kids start wailing in my presence by the mere sight of me category. Not gorgeous yet not hideous. Let's see, so what would that make me? Oh yes, average!

- Academics: It may be too late to talk about academics now but bear with me, I am trying to make a point. Agreed that as a kid I used to do well in studies, but that doesn't count right? I mean how difficult is it to score well in the lower grades? I feel bad for those parents, students who don't! Don't give me the Ishan Awasthi syndrome as an excuse, dyslexia isn't an epidemic. So barring that initial spark of excellence, I have remained an average student throughout my academic life. Never too brilliant, never too dumb to fail.

- Athletics: Been there, done that, that's about it. I enthusiastically took part in each and every sport offered by my school, from plain old sprinting to kho kho to softball(baseball bat, soft ball, the works). There was a time when I was one of the fastest in running but that again was thanks to luck and timing - I was one of the tallest girls in my age category. Hard to believe but true. More of that later. So in sports and/or athletics - average.

- Height and weight: I may have ranted about being short and how the cruel world does not understand or sympathise with my woes or me before, but if truth be told, I am of the average Indian female height. No, honestly. Females, ok this term seems derogatory to a few, so let me use women, who are a couple or more inches taller than me are referred to as being tall and those on the lower side of the scale as short(duhh). That leaves me as, you guessed it, average!

Coming to an issue most women are sensitive about, my weight. No, I am not revealing how much it is. Just that if and when you or anyone else for that matter looks at me for the first time and later is asked for an opinion regarding my build, the common response is "medium". Not "big", not "fat", not "skinny", not "thin" and most definitely not as a part of sign language using both hands, but "normal". It maybe a politically incorrect way of classifying people, but hey, what are you gonna do about it.

- "Talents": Note the use of double quotation marks. I can sing, but I am no nightingale(cuckoo, yes). I can carry a tune, I can sing along when music is being played and I can probably do better than most people in karaoke bars. But don't expect my notes to shatter glass(for either reason). High notes make me go squeaky and low notes make me sound like Amitabh Bachhan(not a good thing).

I can dance, but I am no happy(gay?) feet. I have taken part in most of the dance performances held in school and few during college but I am sure no one in the audience has ever pointed at me and remarked how exceptional my talent is(or asked for my autograph, for that matter). Maybe if I were to have continued my bharatnatyam classes, things would have been different. But don't blame me, blame my young teacher who went to pursue her higher studies in Goa.

- Employment: All the talk till now was more to do with my past. Now this, my dear readers, is about my present. I am currently employed by a company that took 128 other from my batch in engineering, from my college alone. The company that recruited and trained at least one thousand others during the same period as me, and this is just the statistics for one particular training location. The company that has at least >insert really high figure here< others with the same designation as me - software engineer. The company where I am not an identity, but a number.

Average Jane? Yes Sir, that's me!

PS: My self esteem and ego are arch enemies, they are constantly in battle.

Final Destination

2008-05-28T21:53:00.002+05:30

If you aren't aware of it already, I am a big(actually small..eh..bad one) movie buff. If there is a movie which can be watched without death being an eventuality due to its poor quality, I will watch it.

That brings me to the reason why I set about typing this post. The recent one was Final Destination 3. Ok, don't roll your eyes as yet, I know I am three years too late. So what? You really expected me to go watch it in a theater? High hopes(I like that song..ok, focus!)!

The first part was good, the sequel wasn't, yada yada, we all know that. But that's not it. My problem is with the main protagonist in this series. First to set somethings clear -

a.)I don't believe in fate/karma/fortune, the works.
b.)Death to me is end of life, no more, no less. It is similar to the concept of darkness, which is but the lack of light. Similarly, death is the lack of life.
c.)I don't think American teenagers can think so logically. More on this later.

Now that we have established my beliefs or rather the lack of them, let's proceed(give me a chalk piece and my teacher role is achieved). The plot revolves around cheating death. The girl has visions, escapes her death, also rescuing a couple of her friends in the process and cheats it yet again by reading the signs i.e. deciphering the photographs she took.

a.)She is an American teenager. Call me racist but I really don't think solving puzzles is their forte. Had they shown a dorky Indian kid helping them out, I might have bought it.
b.)Gothic influenced kid having a dark side to him, the prick being totally unattractive, could there be any more stereotypes?
c.)Taking it to a personal level, if I discover death is out to get me, I wouldn't sit and fret over how to cheat it. Hey it's the mighty grim reaper we are talking about here. Millions of years of experience versus 23 not so boast worthy years. Can I be so arrogant to think I can win? I would rather finish up my final to do list and pray that the end isn't too painful or embarrassing.

A parting thought-does death grant final wishes? I am sure Johnny Depp wouldn't mind. Oh wait, I think it's Genie I am confusing it with. Never mind.

Burst of inactivity

2008-05-24T23:57:00.002+05:30

Did the title make any sense? Or did I just use an oxymoron(I personally love these things)?

Well, been a while since I stepped my virtual foot here. Reasons were galore, ranging from something as lame as laziness, forgetfulness(sometimes I forget I need to update this) to my weekend being taken up by traveling yet again to (ahem) me being busy creating complications in my own life(I don't need any enemies, my foolishness takes up all my time and strength).

So let me think, what updates(ech..I am sounding more and more techie-ish, inspite of barely "working"!)? Ok, I got it. Let me limit this one to tales and recollections of my trip to my native town. I have a love for long narrations(as if you didn't know this already), so I shall stick to points or "data points", as my manager would say(ugh! I need to control myself!).

a.) I love the journey part. Hard as it may seem to believe, I love traveling(you would have never guessed, eh?). Sarcasm aside, the best part(ok, one of the best parts) about it is the ride around western ghats. Till recently, we used to travel by bus, at night, which limited the opportunities to spot beautiful scenery. But thanks to the man who badly needs nose,ear hair trimmers, our current railways minister, now there's a train to it. The train, being new, was spic and span(believe it!) and the route must have been decided by a nature lover(let's not get to the point that the tracks would have been laid out by cutting trees).

Screw the points/bullets idea, I want to blabber. The funny part about this train journey was the nature of our companions in the compartment. Picturise this - four of us from my family, who speak a mixture of Tulu, Kannada, English and Hindi(not necessarily in the same order), switching between them as and when we please. Two purohits, who made sure their caste and line of work was obvious from their attire and who, for some strange reason, were spoken to only in English by the obviously confused Ticket Checker. Many number of nuns, traveling together, who, of course, were attired in their religious garb. For a moment I almost felt like I was in some cheesy scene from a Karan Johar/Subhash Ghai movie. The lack of any irritating background music lay down my fears.

Now comes the tragic bit. I did not have my trusted aide, my digital camera, by my side. The hills outside, with their lush green foliage(it had rained well recently) seemed to mock me at my failure to capture them. All I had was a 2MP cellphone camera(*sigh*). In all of three days, I took just 80 or more pics!

For those of you who haven't lived in/been to coastal areas during summer time, let me tell you this, baby it's hot! By hot I don't just mean sunny, but hot and humid. You sweat so much that you wonder whether there are secret minute taps fitted on the whole of your body. You want to bathe so many times that a buffalo gets inferiority complex. More than a single layer of clothing seems like a punishment/medieval torture(I seriously sympathise with the women who wear saree). I think you get my point.

There were several high points(not referring to getting drunk or climbing up western ghats..duhh) and low points of this trip. High points - everything was so unplanned and all three days, except that one day when we attended the pooja we came for, were spent on beaches. The fact that people refuse to believe I have been working for the past (almost) two years now and still inquire which course I am studying(saves me the cost of anti wrinkle creams and/or plastic surgery). The miracle called growing up, which my cousins are undergoing. Those half ticket beings are much more tolerable now and less whack worthy.

Low points..hmm..let me think. Oh yes, the close call with burns. Point to remember- however uncomfortable or inappropriate a pair of footwear may seem , do not leave them behind thinking you will collect them later. Being the curious, impatient climber that I am, I circled almost half of St Mary's Island barefoot, hopping, jumping while climbing the rocks, sometimes immediately plunging them into the water, to safeguard my tender feet. At the end of it my feet turned a shade of pink matched only by the colour of Paris Hilton's lipstick. I was just hoping desperately that I don't end up with blisters.

I seem to have exceeded my self imposed length of the post. Let me bring this to an end by stating that no matter how much I love that temple town and its culture, one thing I have hated and will continue to do so is the disgusting, retch worthy smell of fish, fresh or dried out in the sun. Yuck!

How I wish..

2008-05-03T21:58:00.002+05:30

How I wish I was a dumb girl. Seriously, not kidding here. By dumb, I don't mean retarded, that would have been cruel and sad, both for me and my family. By dumb I mean thick headed, you know, low IQ, "I don't get it" type.

Life is so rosy to such people. Even if it's not, they always make it, somehow. They imagine and live in a world which is so different from the one we currently occupy(and are in the process of defiling), that every day may seem so fresh and beautiful and every experience, something to cherish.

Childhood would be a piece of cake. Just smile, be sweet and not fail. What else could your parents expect from you. No matter how much a parent dreams for their child, in their heart they know the true potential too. So they would know you are not the "doctor material" and not even try to force you into academics. "Oh well, as long as she is polite to the guests, we shouldn't worry too much", I have seen such content parents with my very own eyes.

Teenage? Don't even get me started counting the no. of advantages such girls have. You don't even have to be gorgeous or super hot. Know how to manage to look relatively OK and you have it. They are so much in love with the idea of love, that getting hold of "Mr. Perfect" is as easy as playing hopscotch(I miss that game sometimes).

A few guys here and there, a few switches later, and you are into adulthood. Since you never exactly excelled in studies, no one expects you to do anything on your own, be capable of earning a livinghood or make a name for yourself in the cut throat, competitive world of what we (sometimes wrongly) refer to as professionals. In case Mr. Perfect found himself another Ms. Perfect, your parents are ready with a groom, someone(anyone actually) who has enough bank balance to keep you happy for the rest of your life. You wouldn't know what is right for you and in any case you wouldn't sweat over it, after all, as long as he keeps you dolled up, life should be a bed of roses right?

No career to worry about, no pressures and most importantly, no decisions to make, personal or professional. Just leave it for someone else to do, someone more reliable than you, someone who knows what is best, someone who would weigh the pros and cons, someone who would lose their sleep over it, not you.

Oh yes, that would have been fine, quite fine.

Fake conversations

2008-04-29T09:22:00.000+05:30

Can a conversation be fake? You bet it can be! It happens all around us, all the time. Each one of us would have taken part in it at some point of time. The matter is, it would have been necessary, say at a professional level or dealing with an acquaintance. But ever had it with someone you were friends with, or at least you thought so?

Moving on, here are a few ways to determine when it is being faked:

Hello : Oh yeah, you can spot it right at this stage. It comes with much effort, since your number would have displayed for sometime in the other person's mobile, while the person would have been wondering whether to pick it up or not. There is a slight strain in the voice, as if this simple greeting wasn't intentional and was out of habit or forced rather than choice.

When topics run out: I have never believed in "preparing" for a telephonic conversation. If you are at ease with the person on the other end, the conversation should flow. Right? So the easiest give away is when you discover yourself hunting for topics to prolong the conversation. Why wouldn't you just rather end it? You would usually, but sometimes you just want to hang on, hoping that it's just a matter of time before the ease sets back in. It doesn't.

The pregnant pauses - The most difficult parts to deal with. After a well scripted QnA session which keeps moving back and forth like two amateurs' table tennis match, come these breaks in the conversation. You expect the blow to finally fall,something on the terms of "Let's stop pretending, I am not interested in talking to you anymore" , but alas, social creatures that we are, the charade continues.

The end - melodramatic choice of words, as usual? Not this time. I actually mean the end of the call. The mere artificiality of "let's catch up sometime" or "take care" makes me cringe. Catch what? If talking for five minutes came across as such a torture, you really expect me to believe that it will be much better in person. When the lies will be even more apparent, the shifty eyes, the "so..what else?" more pathetic than ever before.

Maybe it was a hint to me. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I need to shut up.

What goes up, must come down

2008-04-21T17:07:00.000+05:30

I was just checking my Facebook account from office, when I came across an album. Nothing particularly peculiar about it, just the fact that looking at it made me nostalgic. What it also triggered was guilt, at not having replied to a friend of mine, who had messaged on friday night(yeah, my guilt trips are badly scheduled).

I messaged her, partly lying, partly honest about the reason I did not reply. She called back. For no fault of hers, she is still in college, she is my junior, used to be my batchmate once. Anyway, she was in the computer lab when she called. I could hear noise in the background and wondering since when did my lecturers become so lenient, I asked her what the commotion was about. The department fest.

Skipping the insignificant details, I miss it. I say "it" on purpose. I don't miss college. Why don't I miss what others claim to be the best 4 years of their lives? Simple, those weren't the best 4 years of my life. I was an insecure person with too many fears within me. Maybe a few of them are still there, but I have learned to deal with them(or so I hope).

Coming back to the point, I miss the fest. More than anything, I miss being a part of something which lead somewhere. To be more precise, I miss the sense of purpose. We knew our target, we knew our deadline. Yeah I know, being a software engineer, targets and deadlines shouldn't be something I lack. But honestly, these things are mere jargons thrown around in this industry. Let me explain. Fest vs. work - the goals, the results, the "fruits of our labour", so to speak, were more visible and desirable in the past. Here, as serious as they may make it sound, it all boils down to some clerical job(no offence meant to them) that will most probably not affect even a single person on the client's side.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a "I hate my work" cribbola(did I just invent a word?) post. Rest assured, the day that feeling sinks in, I shall put in my papers. I have never believed in doing something I hate, not even for money(hehe..money? make that *peanuts).

I miss the organisation part, starting from scratch, with nothing but leftover posters designed by our seniors, the contacts they used for sponsors, our lecturers making it clear that attendance was still important and will not be dealt with lightly, our HoD stating in no unclear terms that the onus of responsibility rested completely on our shoulders. Translation - you screw this one up, I am gonna screw your future. Lovable, isn't he?

The conceptualisation of mere ideas into something more concrete. Joking with lecturers who, till recently, we would just exchange pleasantries with. The ego clashes, oh yes, the ego clashes. Nothing prepares you more for the "adult world" than having clashes over real, serious issues with someone you are friends with. Tact, diplomacy may work with strangers, at the end of the day it's conviction and faith in your methods that can persuade the other person. When nothing works, try emotional blackmail(*grin* just kidding).

The evenings extending into nights as the day approaches. More fights, more tempers flying, more calls for tolerance and patience. The flurry of excitement, making sure everything is in place at the last moment. Of course, it never is. What can go wrong, will go wrong..? Finally, when it all ends. The great sense of relief. The accompanying sense of regret that it is over. What took months to plan and execute, over in a matter of couple of days.

The sense of rush.

Midnight trek!

2008-04-19T17:13:00.005+05:30

For those of you who have not tried it, trekking is hard but great fun! Ok, I am not a professional at it and this was my second trek(the first one was a piece of cake compared to this), but I loved it! Actually more than the trekking, I think I love the concept of night trekking. The advantages are several - the weather is cooler, you won't realise it initially as you will be sweating so much but it beats trekking under the sun any day!

It's more adventurous! So what if we were carrying torches(ratio wasn't 1:1, more like one torch for 5 people which was actually more than enough), the fact that you are barely aware of what lies beyond five or six more steps it thrilling!

The biggest clincher - moonlight. No artificial lights, no street lamps, darkness all around with only moonlight to guide you. I wish it were full moon but it was close enough last night(for all purposes, I am telling others the moon was full!). Once your eyes get adapted to the faint yet strong enough rays, any other source of light seems to cause strain to the eyes. So much so that in almost all the pics my friends can barely keep their eyes open due to the "harsh" lights of the camera. These are the same friends who otherwise freeze in their places and pose perfectly whenever there is a camera around or even the mention of it!

Now the mini travelogue. I say "mini" because given my love for details and unnecessary blabber, if I write a full fledged one, it might cross more than ten pages. Who has the patience for that right?(I prove my point again, by digressing from the topic)

The place is called Skandagiri Hills and is around 70 km from Bangalore. We reached there by midnight and after dilly dallying around, started the trek around 1 am in the morning. It took us more than two-two and a half hours to reach the peak. One of the main reasons was the no. of breaks we took. People take breaks in between the trek, we trek in between breaks. It was a hard climb and the difficulty gradually increased with the altitude. Couple of my friends(girls, sheesh!) had to be really pushed to finish it. Eventually all of us did make it to the top but not before people swearing that this would be the last trek in their life(drama queens!)!

A few mistakes we committed, out of which the major one was not taking sufficient water along with us. Everyone assumed there would be shops near the foot of the hills and even otherwise 3 litres for 14 people would be sufficient. Don't look at me like that, I tried and I failed to drive logic into them. I think I can distinctly remember having just two sips of water throughout the trek.

The best part was obviously reaching the peak, shit tired but really jubilant. We nearly froze to death but that's another story(we did have jackets but other "practiced" trekkers present on the peak were well equipped with blankets, shawls etc.). There were angels present on the peak, in the form of a few locals selling hot tea(sugar water, but beggars can't be choosers) and freshly prepared omelet!

The whole purpose of the trip - the sunrise and being "above the clouds" was disappointing, to put it mildly. It wasn't too great and there were no clouds below us, so to speak. But as someone rightly said - "what matters is the journey, not the destination"(did I jumble up the words?). Anyway, you get my point.

I wish I could keep writing, describing each and every (in)significant detail, but I think I should stop. A few parting notes:
1. I think my throat is so parched that there are cracks formed, similar to those on the ground in severe drought affected areas. It pains every time I swallow.
2. You are never too fit. For all my days spent in the gym, I still was panting like a dog all the way up(gulped Glucon D once,was sucking on Poppins, all measures to keep my energy level up). Although I discovered that I am way fitter than most of my friends present there(*yay*).
3. Err..this one is weird. Exhaustion and high altitude gives me a high. I was literally and figuratively high! I couldn't stop giggling, when we were sitting on the peak waiting for sunrise! I would giggle for no reason and when asked why, I would giggle and reply that I had no clue! Heh, I always knew I am a goner but not to this extent.

Master of none

2008-04-15T13:59:00.000+05:30

It's that time of the year again! Actually, not really. Anyway, before I distract myself and my thought process starts drifting off in a totally different direction, let me get straight to the point.

Why is the whole world and their step cousin so intent on becoming managers? Every Sawyer, Tracy and Potter(I am planning to get copyrights for the usage of this term) seems to be writing this exam and that exam, which eventually leads to the holy grail of all people frustrated with their current line of work - MBA.

Trust me, the day I am asked to step into the recruitment process for an MBA school(of course, I will have to be a manager myself to achieve that, but let's come to that later) the first question(which I am sure many people ask even now) would be "Why?" but the difference lies in the fact that I will give it a personal touch, adding "..and don't give me bullshit" because I have read the countless "how to answer questions effectively" nonsense a thousand times over, heard (if not read) my friends' applications and let me tell you this, if someone actually believes that shit, they better believe that I am Mother Teresa reincarnated!

Yes, I know the actual reason, extra degree equals extra money. Simple, right? Wrong! Now you don't realise what repercussions this has on lazy souls like me who are quite satisfied with their incompetent lives! Case in point:

Nosy stranger: "So which stream of engineering are you studying?"(a different topic for another blog altogether)
Me: "Umm..Actually I am working for Infosys."
NS: "Oh wow. How many years over?"
Me: "I'll be completing my second year soon."
NS: "Good good. So planning to get married(another topic right here) or further studies? MBA?"*stupid grin*
ME: "Heh heh..yeah..hmm..I think my mom is calling me. Excuse me!"

It's either marriage or MBA! Can you believe that! Thanks to the scores of stupid, incompetent colleges offering these courses, MBA degree has now become as common as BE or BTech! Which in turn means there are more incompetent managers being turned out with each passing day who one way or another find their way into our already miserable lives. What is my rue with managers? Kindly skip to my first post on this blog, you will know!

Other than the moolah reason mentioned already, is there any other reason why people are pursuing this degree? I don't think so. Which is pathetic as they will be back to where they started, doing a job they never had passion for, they never liked, in the first place. MBA isn't the answer to all problems, it isn't the key to all of life's mysterious locks. If that is what you intend to seek, pursue a spiritual path, not an MBA.

Away since..

2008-04-07T19:57:00.002+05:30

Ok, today I am determined. No more slacking, no more procrastination! When was the last time I updated this piece here? Damn, it has been long! What can I say? I have been busy, yes, but that's not the excuse I should use.

Honestly, I really don't know what kept me away. There are a couple of drafts pending but I guess I don't have it in me to finish them. There are even a couple of topics(?)/subjects i wanted to express my opinion on, but somehow, for some reason, it ain't coming through. When I started this, I had promised myself one thing over all others - honesty. No political correctness, no diplomacy, no mincing words. Well, not like I speak like Miss India in real life, world peace and mother teresa thrown into every possible bit of conversation, but it's a well known fact that expressing oneself online or through the printed word(in this case, the typed word) is way easier than in real conversations.

Maybe that's the reason I did not want to write. I was afraid of what I might discover. You see, once my fingers make contact with the keyboard, it's all involuntary from there. Sometimes I surprise myself with what I have written. "Oh, am I really that narrow minded?", "hey, stop being so bitchy", "did I just say that?", you get the drift.

What's been happening in my life? Oh nothing drastic as such. It's the same old routine, with a few surprises thrown in here and there. Surprises in terms of? Hmm..me. I will not divulge any details, but if you really want to know, it can be summed up in three words - "Never say never". Forgive me for talking in weird crpyto-supposedly profound-but actually lamo-lingo! There are some things, some thoughts, certain ideas which I don't plan to confront. Escapism has worked wonders for me all my life and I plan to stick to it for the rest of it too.

So consider this as a comeback post of sorts. If I completed this in (*checks time*)..err..let's just say "so fast", it means I am back, back to being my normal self(I hear you snickering!). My mind is already working overtime to decide what to talk(blabber?) about next.

As the bull Arnie once said - I'll be back.

Alone but not lonely

2008-03-24T15:09:00.000+05:30

A fresh, new experience. An experience which taught me a few things. First, the background.

I was supposed to go shopping with my friend on Friday afternoon. Rain gods played havoc as usual and apparently it was raining cats and dogs where he stays. Well, what was I to do? If a girl has made up her mind to go shopping, shopping it is that she must do! I thought about it long and hard over some deliciously sinful cheese burst pizza(if gluttony is a sin, I have a reservation in hell) and reached a conclusion, I shall go alone.

I have gone window shopping all by myself before, but that was more out of compulsion than choice. When you have friends who nonchalantly claim that 1:30 means 2:00, you end up planning accordingly, planning your chores and some small work before they finally decide to turn up.

So here I was, sitting in my bus,on my way home, still considering and weighing my options. I must confess, I did try to pull in another friend but she usually takes at least half a day to get ready so that was out of the question. Oh and by the way, my bus does not go through the destination I intended to target. After much thought, I decided to take the plunge(err..melodramatic choice of words), quite literally. The bus stopped at a signal and off I jumped(hopped?). I knew it to be "somewhere close" to where I was headed to, but being Ms. No Sense of Direction, walked off in the wrong direction, all the while chatting up my friend on the phone.

A few minutes and a few unknown, unseen landmarks later, I reached the conclusion that I was lost. I mean of course I knew I was still in Bangalore and that too in a good locality to get lost in, what with some educational institutions nearby and posh flats in the vicinity, plus the fact that it was broad daylight! But still, one must accept when one is lost. So I stop in my tracks, retrace my steps to where I alighted from my company bus and do the most sensible thing for someone in my position - look confident and hail an auto.

After a pretty much nondescript ride and a shopping experience later, here are my few points of gyaan on the whole subject of shopping alone:

No pressure - there is absolutely no peer pressure when you go shopping by yourself. You don't care if you are reaching for the cheaper articles, or if the trend is out of fashion yet you like it, or someone suggest a color so ghastly you wouldn't let even your worst enemies wear it. Best part about it - the absence of the dressing room trauma. Before you start getting ideas, give your imagination some rest. I am referring to the whole process of trying out something and displaying it one by one to your friends as well as the aunties, uncles and kids near the dressing room. Oh and not to forget the "guards", who sometimes give you such looks that you know how good the item of clothing looks on you.

Independence - yes, as unlikely as it may seem, it gives you a sense of great accomplishment and independence. How? Simple. You are not depending on anyone for transportation, for starters. You are not depending on anyone for suggestions. It's all you. You are not depending on anyone for decisions. It's your money, your time. Spend it as you want. You are not depending on anyone, in case you want to leave. Since it's just you, you can leave and/or go someplace else, whenever you want and not wait for the other person's opinion(approval?).

I did buy a couple of things I had been hunting for, since long. As soon I was done, since there was no "socialising" involved, walked a bit since the weather was beautiful(and I was..err..kinda lost..again)and headed for home. Family was surprised to see me home so early and even more so when they realised where I had been(the shopping bags in my hand gave it away) and I think my mother was a little offended that I didn't ask her to come, given that I went alone. But as I told her, I was alone, but not lonely.

Get Shorty

2008-03-09T21:20:00.002+05:30

This post is triggered by a comment from someone who met me for the first time - "you are smaller than I thought". For the record, I am all of 5 feet 2(and a half, if you don't mind) inches. That's quite bad, yes? Well no, considering how my mom is shorter than me. Everytime one of those "why me?" moments strike me, I just look at her or go stand next to her and comfort myself with the selfish thought that things could have been much worse.

My problem lay in the fact that I shot up too early. While the rest of my class still looked like they were in kindergarten, yours truly was the tallest in her class(*sigh* those were the days). My brother, who now towers more than half a foot over me, used to be shorter than me! The local bus conductors never used to believe than I am younger than 12 years of age and hence refused to part with a "half ticket", insisting on the full fare. My future looked bright(and tall?) and I was happy thinking that I had taken to my dad's side in matters of height. Little did naive old me know of the cruel trick nature had to play.

In case you didn't know, it's a cruel world out there for short people. Let me start the griping with the public transport system. I travel daily to office in the company bus, which is owned and leased by the government transport department. The buses have bars above to hold on to. Guess what, I barely reach it. So all I can do while walking down the aisle just before the bus stops and when the driver applies those oh so soft brakes, is to break my fall using the support of other seats. If and when my hands are full, I pray.

Then there are the new buses where there is a support or an extension which is to help out vertically challenged people like me. Now I am not sure which Einstein was consulted for the design but I ask you this, what is the use of such a support if it is not fixed! Instead of flying freely, now you have the choice of flying till a certain range, is that it?!

Seats are next on my list. The more comfortable the place/mode of transport is, the longer their seats will be, hence more difficult with stubby legged people like me! Tall people have legspace problem, I have hanging legs problem. My feet don't touch the ground and when they do, they fail to make contact with the leg rest provided. Solution? Sitting cross legged. Ensuing problem? Not exactly a dignified solution.

I can go on and on, but something(I think the time) tells me I should stop. Maybe in the coming years they will have customised products and facilities for short yet not dwarves or disabled people. Till that day, I have my heels to help me out.

Singleton

2008-03-02T13:15:00.002+05:30

It's tough being single. Don't get me wrong, I love being single. Being fiercely independent, I can see no other arrangement which suits me better. But the one main flipside of being single is turning down guys. It's easy if he gets the hint when you are subtle, but if he's "one of those", chances are that the situation will get only awkward and the only way out is to be rude and direct. It's alright by me, I am as bluntly honest as can be, but I do feel bad for the other person and sometimes, get reprimanded by my friends for being too cruel.

Through this post, I take it upon myself to educate the guys out there as to how to approach a girl, or more importantly, how not to:

Flattery- It may work with some women, but judging largely from mine and my friends' experiences, use it sparingly. Unless the girl you are going for is a bimbo, chances are that your praises might come across as mockery or sarcasm.
Do your homework - The biggest mistake, and I really mean biggest mistake is to ask out a teetotaler for a date in a pub. Goes to show how dispensable she is to you that you did not even bother to find out her tastes and lifestyle preferences. If coffee seems too cliched and juvenile, make it at least a movie or lunch at a decent, not so expensive restaurant.
Don't pretend - Most important point; never pretend to be someone you are not. It doesn't matter that you come across as boring or plain, at least you are being yourself. Once you start pretending, there's no going back. In any case, if you intend to get serious with her, she will one day get to know the true you(by the way, what may seem as "boring" to few, may comes across as "stable" to others). Sincerity works best. Be comfortable with your identity, it will show.
Bottoms up approach and not the other way round - *sigh* software terms. Start building it up from scratch. Do not expect a relative stranger to say yes for a date just because you think you handled yourself "smoothly" in the messenger conversation. While we are on it - messenger? Is that the best you could do?! Let her get comfortable and acquainted with you, only then go for the hit(sheesh! I sound like a guy!).
First impression - like it or not, it goes a long way in forming opinions about a person. If you managed to psyche her out with your mannerisms the first time you met her or were introduced to her (your state of inebriation is irrelevant), chances are that even if you are the reincarnation of Mother Teresa, she will be very skeptical about you. Lesson to be learned - be civil in strangers' presence, more so if they don't know you but you might want to know them.

Ok, I think that should do for the time being. I know it's hard enough for guys to gather up the courage to ask someone out but trust me, put a little thought into it and it shouldn't be that tough.

PS: I feel like an agony aunt now.

Appu Ghar

2008-02-17T18:04:00.002+05:30

If you aren't aware of the news already, let me break it to you. India's first amusement park, Appu Ghar(Delhi), is operating for the final time today. News channels and other streams of media are covering it from a historic point of view or asking questions such as "What about the employees?"It was the first amusement park in India, opened in the early 80s and named after the mascot(Appu) of the 1982 Asian Games, hosted by India and held in Delhi. The (around)250 employees associated with it have apparently nowhere to go.

But my take on it is pretty much selfish. I grew up in Delhi. I played on those rides which now will never be operated again. I remember the "My Fair Lady" not as the grim, badly dressed giant that they proclaim it to be but as a ride where your knuckles turn white from holding on too tightly and the glee on the failure to control yourself from sliding to the corner, apparent on your face.

The now rickety "Bhoot Bungalow" did manage to get out a few "eeks" if not screams and shouts. Nobody actually found it scary but it was quite entertaining in its own silly way, no doubt about that. The "Dragon" ride, not sure if that's the actual name of the ride(pardon my failing memory but it has been a long time since I last visited it), was and is still quite fast by any standard(it was the roller coaster of the park).

More than any other ride, I think it was Appu Colombus though, which was the favourite ride amongst all age groups(permitted). If you were there with classmates, on a school picnic, sitting in the middle area made you look like a loser. So almost everyone, even the ones with weak stomachs(they would simply close their eyes, hold on tightly, muttering prayers and/or shout as loud as possible) would rush to the top/corner places. It didn't help that the bars that were supposed to hold you down were quite shaky themselves, and more so at the peaking time. Even now, just remembering it, gives me a pleasurable rush.

This ride was also the one where the men's chivalry surfaced. More often than not, during every visit there would be a couple seated, the woman squirming at the prospect of being flung so high and the man, with an arm around her, flaunting his role as the hunter, gatherer and protector. Quite a funny scene, especially for kids. The essential part and role of the "back benchers" were the shouts, or chants, if you may. Laced loosely or generously(depending on the crowd) with expletives, the "oooooo"s were varying in tone, pitch and volume, with each passing stage of the ride(the most audible being at the peak, obviously).

As years passed by, other amusement parks started cropping up, most of them employing much better technologies and rides. Everyone, including my friends and I, started cheating on the orange elephant. And now, it's time for it to go. I don't oppose the decision to bring it down, old things always must make way for the new. But I do mourn for it. On second thoughts, so what if the place won't remain, my memories always will.

For..umm..?

2008-02-10T21:19:00.000+05:30

This blog officially marks the end of the second weekend of February 2008! Before you ask, there wasn't any significance to this past weekend, I was just being melodramatic (that's the price you pay for being a regular reader here - sucker!). No, I haven't hit my head against any blunt and/or sharp object, just that it's been some time since I could express myself so freely and hence made full use of this opportunity.

Anyway, enough of the nonsense prelude to the forthcoming..err..nonsense. I am sure you are curious w.r.t. the title of this post. Even if you are not, please read it again and gather some curiosity from somewhere.

The sole purpose of this post is to tell a sad, maybe even tragic story. The story about a girl who has lived in a city for the past seven years(eighth year running) and is yet to witness/visit/ experience one of the most overrated places in the city - The Forum Mall. First, a little bit of background. This mall was built in..err..ok, you don't need its history, let's just say a long time ago, for convenience sake. This was the time when the word "mall" did not make your mind conjure images of glitzy showrooms, over dressed people of all age groups, escalators (functional or otherwise) and eventually, a hole in the pocket.

The closest anything got to the concept of a mall was what was referred to as "super bazaar". A set of shops, in the same vicinity and if it can be helped, in the same commercial complex. But there in lies the catch. I mention "shops" and not "showrooms" on purpose. The former served some essential purpose where as the latter serves just one - spending. One met the needs where as the other meets standards. Anyway, I am starting to sound like a Marxist now, so let me just get on with the story I was building up.

As you can imagine, when such a place opened here, right here in namma Bengaluru(translates to our Bangalore), it was an event! Relatives and cousins from everywhere asked about it and made it a point to pay a visit to this place of worship (of shoppers i.e.) and friends were busy planning when and how to go there. What about me? Well, here in starts the tragic tale. Every time something was planned, I was either ill, out of station, busy(don't laugh!) or just not invited!

Days turned into weeks and so on and so forth. Finally the whole world and their step cousins had been there, done that, except yours truly, of course. College days were left behind and I started working, working quite close to this temple of commerce, by the way. I was presented with an opportunity again, past Saturday. I leave it upto you to guess what happened. By the time we started for it, it was late evening and the plan was ditched, again. There are other malls in Bangalore now, mind you, but there's something about Forum.

My company bus goes right in front of it in the morning and behind it in the evening. That's as close as I can come to it. I look outside at it every time and think to myself - "one day I will conquer you, my Everest"(hehe..heights of melodrama eh?).

Insomniac? Not me!

2008-02-01T20:25:00.000+05:30

Before I start off on the first day of this month, let me just say I m glad that I can manage at least one post per week(average, not date wise). Not that I am too busy with work(what's that?), but with a few other things. If and when I am at home, tv still has a stronger hold on me and blogging takes a back seat.

I wanted to blog about my relationship with one of the major time consuming activities in my life. Sleep. I am one of the few(millions of?) adults in the world who can still afford to spend(waste?) eight hours per night on this luxury. Why do I use the word luxury? Well, don't you think so? I hear people around me constantly complaining about the lack of time to achieve all that they want in a day, and I speak about spending 1/3rd of it sleeping.

I am not very sure why I did not let this childhood habit of mine go. My brother has easily achieved it. The only time I see him on his bed are the twenty minutes that I am up before him. Maybe it was the fact that I was anemic for a large portion of my life(it makes you feel constantly tired and sleepy) or maybe I am just too lazy(most of my friends will vouch for this latter point). Whatever the reason was, I am glad.

While "researching" the ill effects of lack of sleep, it struck me that this issue shouldn't be taken as lightly as some people do. Ok, not that I intend to live for a thousand years or something(what a torture that would be!), but I would most definitely want to at least live healthily whatever fraction of it is destined for me. What kind of a life would it be if you would huff and puff at just a few steps or find the need to pop in pills before your first grey hair appears. Even the thought gives me shudders.

My biggest disappointment though is the fact that I am a light sleeper. And by "light", I mean feather weight(er..ok..bad one). A little disturbance, a little noise or even if someone switches on the light and my blissful sleep is broken. I wonder how my brain actually finds this as "rest" because in the morning I can even clearly remember what caused the break(my stupid, over smart memory at play again?). Worse are the times when I wake up due to a nightmare(mine are as weird as they come) or a persisting, nagging thought at the back of my mind which finally decides to show itself clearly. My way of dealing with it(results are not guaranteed) is to force myself to think of something totally irrelevant, basically-escapism. If that doesn't work, expect a cranky me at work(for at least the first half of the day).

Sleep during a journey is out of the question for me, except during train travel. If you notice someone fidgeting, tossing, turning in their seat, playing with their cell phones or even taking pictures(just to pass time), do not be alarmed (unless the person in question is carrying a Kalashnikov and has shifty eyes). It probably is someone like me, unless, well, it's actually me.

The Golden Age

2008-01-18T22:00:00.000+05:30

If there is anything harder than watching your kids grow, in my opinion, it is watching your parents grow older. Throughout your life, your parents have been the foundation that held the structure of the family together. One day, out of the blue, you discover that the very same foundation has started to develop cracks. The signs were there for you to see, but you only see what your eyes want to see. So you go on ignoring it, hoping that like everything else, it will just fade away.

Its not like my parents are as old as dinosaurs already. But to my alarm, I know that very soon they will be. I have never concerned myself with or obsessed over something as trivial as age. As a kid, I did want to grow up really fast, but those were for different reasons altogether. As an adult, I have never foolishly wished time to stand still. But now, a strange selfishness has started enveloping me. I like the present. I don't want it to change. Change, which has always been my biggest enemy.

If there is one very valuable lesson that I have learned from my parents, it is the value of compromise. It is a value which almost everyone in their generation learned without being explicitly taught. Two total strangers, agreeing to spend the rest of their lives together, bound by nothing but a few rituals and the society's rules, all for their parents'/family's happiness. Arranged marriage - the biggest compromise of them all.

Why did I suddenly veer towards the topic of marriage? Recently, my maternal aunt and uncle celebrated their fiftieth marriage anniversary. 50. Five zero. Going by the unrest amongst the people of my age group, a silver jubilee would call for a nationwide celebration. Every one wants life on his/her own terms. Nobody is willing to change themselves but expect others to change for them.

I have never had the opportunity to watch an old couple up close, all four grandparents passed away by the time I was six. That actually isn't a good sign, but as I said, who cares about such things. So watching my not so old parents age is quite fascinating. The comfort zone that they share, the tiffs and the disagreements and the nonchalant way in which it is handled, each of it seems part of an oft-practiced effortless ritual. I remember spending a day at my friend's grandparents' place. At noon, both of them used to sit in front of the tv and peacefully doze off. I had remarked to her then -"If forty years from now, I can share this kind of relationship with my husband, I would call my life a success".

I still stand by it.

Nothing in particular

2008-01-11T20:07:00.000+05:30

This one is just to chronicle the last week - uneventful overall, yet small observations which I might want to record.

I thought it will be one of the longest weeks possible, as the two weeks before it had a holiday one day of the week. But surprisingly, that wasn't to be. The week moved on fairly fast - anything to do with days being shorter in winter(no, I am not a retard, I am kidding!)? There wasn't much work in office, and I could easily finish the alloted task with a lot of time to spare. No, it has got nothing to do with my "efficiency", just being smart and making my manager allot more time than required for it.

CAT results came out. No, I wasn't amongst the lakhs of people who mewed and purred in the exam halls all over the country. Quite a few of my friends wrote it, most of them unhappy with their results. Dumb old me didn't even know what kind of result deserves congratulations and which one sympathies. I mean my natural instinct at the knowledge that a friend bagged 97 percentile (not percentage, mind you) should be "Congrats!" right? Wrong. I was told not to rub salt over the wounds and had to stay back to undo the damage and cheer him up. 97 percentile not being good enough. Thank heavens I am not presumptuous enough to think that I have a chance and give that monster of an exam!

I gave yet another pat to my small back for taking yet another solid decision eons ago. Orkut is a blessing, no, not even in disguise, just out and out! You see it was through this "outdated"(what would they know about it) social networking site that I discovered that my getting out of the "puppy love-crush-preteen-fascinated by movies-relationship(?)" was the best thing to have happened to me! No offense to him(ok, maybe a little), but he seems to have turned into one obnoxious, self obsessed, self centered pr*ck! Right from his description about himself to the album photos - me, me, me, me and oh yes..me! Our common friends tell me that he is also now an infamous flirt - the cherry on the icing? Don't get me wrong, this isn't the sour grapes story, we parted on good terms and it was a mutual decision(or so I made him believe..hehe). Phew! What a close call!

Now comes the trifle serious part. Don't start yawning as yet, it will be over soon. I hate being diplomatic. But sometimes, there just isn't any other way. I have a friend - artistic, talented and intelligent. Along with all these qualities, shrewd. When he is in need of something, you can be as sure as hell that he will contact you. Once the work is done, he returns to oblivion. No, he isn't a bad person, it's just the way he is. Practical, calculative and clever-these can be termed as qualities when you are interacting with your contacts, not with your own friends. Our other friends have realised this long ago and hence stay aloof. But I just can't bring myself to it. End result - on one hand I am listening to his criticism by my other friends(sometimes I join in), on the other I have to behave perfectly normal in his presence or when he contacts me. It's wrong, I know that perfectly well, but the way out is tougher. If the chariot is running, who are you to take out a wheel? And so the charade continues.

The last straw

2008-01-06T19:31:00.000+05:30

I had been meaning to post this since the night of Dec 31st, 2007. No, this isn't about resolutions or any other thing related to the New Year. This is just my account of an occurrence that really shook me up and made me trust my judgements more than ever.

I was waiting for my friends and looking around at the sad crowd that had gathered to celebrate that night. Up ahead I saw him, my friend of four years. No, make that my friend for four years. It is probably one of the weirdest relationships I have had with anyone till date. Two people, so alike and yet so different. We have been the closest of friends and we have been the worst of enemies, there were times when one couldn't even stand the sight of the other. Long story cut short, we parted ways after graduation, not as friends, but as two individuals who would be just about civil if our paths were to cross, which did happen a few times.

But nothing prepared me for this. He was walking in the opposite direction, coming towards my side. I was shocked out of my senses because of all the people in the world, he was the last one I expected to run into and of all the places, there! Maybe my face gave away my feelings or maybe it was the fact that he was with someone, someone hanging on to his arms. I am trying to think of all possible reasons for his next action but am unable to come up anything justifiable.

I was given the cold shoulder. It was as if he saw through me. As if I did not exist there. Or even if I did, my existence did not matter, it was inconsequential. He passed right by me with not so much as an acknowledgement. Surprisingly, I smiled. After the initial disappointment was dealt with, I realised that I was relieved that this is how it turned out to be, and what a day for it! It was the proverbial nail in the coffin. If there was any doubt, any guilt remaining in my mind towards the course of action I had chosen that day when I told him that we could no longer be friends, it was gone now.

I felt free, as if a great burden had been lifted from my conscience. Memories were flashing in my head - the few days after when he tried to patch it back together, when he vowed that he wouldn't let go so easily, that it mattered too much to let go. How I stubbornly refused to budge from my decision, knowing that sustaining it would be far more painful than ending it. I had felt a great surge of confusion, self loathing and guilt for days and I think even months later. But now, as I stood there, looking at him passing me by, walking away, it seemed the best thing to do, the right thing to do.

I have sometimes wondered if it is right to be so calculative, to be so seemingly practical and thinking and making decisions not from my heart but from my brain. Moments like these, I am glad I do.

The year gone by

2008-01-06T10:52:00.000+05:30

Yes, it is one of those posts, though it may be a bit late in the coming. So what? Its been six days now since the New Year dawned on us. Few of my friends say that there needn't be such fanfare over it, I mean after all, it is just another year. But I want to pen down or rather type down what the past year meant to me, so that I can at a later stage look at this post and smile or frown, as the case maybe.

Ok, enough of build up. Here goes:

I made lots of friends and by lots, I mean it. Even in college I hadn't met so many people I genuinely liked and wanted to know better. If people were to ever ask me how much of an impact Infosys had on my life, this part would definitely score higher than the learnability shit. It's funny if I think about it actually, how much I despised college and how much I like being a working woman. People usually are of the opposite opinion.

The end of my brief stint with independence. I got transferred back to Bangalore, back to living with my family, back to the comforts but also, back to the restrictions. I did have periods of home sickness while living on my own, especially when my health wasn't in the best of phases or during events/festivals that I had previously celebrated with them. But on the whole, I think I was managing quite well, given that it was my first time. I think that is what disappointed my family the most *grin*.

The confirmation of the fact that I have a lot of personal issues to overcome - control, intimacy, trust, to name just a few. I don't like people telling me what to do, I can't get close to someone beyond a certain point and I still don't trust people completely. One would think that such "problems" would impede a person's social standing but to my amazement, it has only helped mine. I have started to recognise these as my strengths, rather than my weaknesses. I still haven't come across a good enough reason for me to change myself.

On the professional front, I think I can label it satisfactory. I am being real. A chemical engineer in the software industry should be rooted in reality. I could have achieved much more but I never have been the ambitious kind. I do wish I had a better boss, but you can't have it all. I am in a project that has never required me to sit beyond 8 pm and teammates that co-operate and even cover up your mistakes. Life could have been a lot worse, I know it and hence am thankful that it isn't.

Oh how could I forget the most important one! I started blogging. Blogs to me were an alien concept, something I had read about online, something I thought only geeks and losers dabbled in. Was I wrong! I have discovered a whole new life after I started blogging(ok maybe I am stretching it a leeeetle bit). I started with InfyBlogs, the internal blogspace of my company and I got hooked. I rediscovered my passion for writing, which was, since school days, gathering dust. It also lead me to do something I was always cautious of - making friends online. To be able to carry a conversation with people I had never met personally and some I never would, was a totally new experience for me!

Well what do you know, this post didn't turn out as bad as I thought. I guess when you look back, the positive memories are more willing to make themselves heard than the negative. Or maybe it is the effect of the peaceful weekend. Whatever the reason, I am glad that the thought of the year 2007 doesn't bring a bitter taste to my mouth. I must confess that I have learned a few lessons the hard way in the past year, but I shall not let them spoil the memories.

Goodbye 2007, you were good to me. 2008, I think I am ready for you.

Two to Tango

2007-12-22T00:03:00.000+05:30

I am tired, tired of accusations, tired of being questioned and tired of giving explanations. When will people understand that I am no saint, that I do not deserve to be kept on a pedestal built of wrong expectations, to be crucified when I fall from grace, which happens ever so often nowadays.

Everyone likes to blame the other person or pass the buck when something fails, nobody realises or wants to recollect how much of it was caused by them. Conveniently turn a blind eye to your follies, as they were just trivial matters. If I don't call up, those instances will be remembered for eternity but the times I tried and failed will never be noticed. "You don't keep in touch", is what I am told. Now what I really want to know is that is it expected of me to mail, ping, call, meet each person I have come to know, every breathing hour of my life?

I am not saying that when people choose to take different paths, all contacts should be broken and that while pursuing a new life, the old one should be forgotten and discarded. But it is unreasonable to expect things to not change. Nothing lasts forever. You make do with what is left and make sure to hold on to it. Anything more than that would be, if I may say so, foolish to expect.

The thing which saddens me more than anything is to see my old friends lose that comfort zone, to feel out of place, just because "we don't have common topics to discuss anymore". Like hell we don't! It is the mental block and pre judgment which causes these fissures. I know people from my primary school years with whom I can still discuss anything under the sun! Sometimes I wonder if the reason for change in behaivour stems from insecurity and a weird possessiveness. No, I don't mean to imply that I am too precious blah blah, I am very much in touch with reality.

What I mean can be better explained like this - when you realise that someone, once close to you, is having an equally good time, if not better, with someone else, don't you experience that slight pang of jealousy? I have seen it in others' eyes, acquaintances and friends included. From there the downhill journey begins. They feel you don't need them anymore and that they are in disposable to you, now that you have "new friends".

I seriously don't know how to set such things right. I try my best to reason. If they listen, well and good. Else I let go. Yes, it is a terrible thing to do on my part but as I said initially, I am no saint.

Discussion time

2007-12-18T20:28:00.000+05:30

This isn't any profound bullshit or thoughtful thoughts or whatever low grade material constitute my other posts. This is just a recollection of events at lunch time today, because if I forget to chronicle them, I m sure I will curse myself for the rest of my life!

Let me just build up the background story first. My lunch group consists of really silly(yet intelligent, mind you), witty and nonsense talking bunch of people that you could gather. Everyone has known the other through a common friend and two of them are even older than the rest by a solid almost 3 years, which is really hard to tell, seriously.

The usual conversation revolves around the guys talking about their (mis)adventures in the gym, a lot of puns thrown in for effect and mostly, making fun of other people (including each other). So it was a surprise, no, make that shock to see the developments at lunch today! Not only did we not discuss a very serious topic, but we continued it to the ice cream parlour too(fyi - first we have lunch then we go for ice cream, its a routine).

The topic of this heated(more details on this aspect in a while) debate was the article in one of the leading magazines about the effect of IT boom on Bangalore. For the statistician, out of the seven of us present there, four are Old Bangaloreans. This discussion had been carried on quite vociferously on our internal public forum, the Bulletin Board and so it spilled on to the lunch discussion.

Now coming to the use of the term "heated", one of us took it personally(no no, not me, the only thing I take personally is personal matters..err..*confused*). So there you have it. A day when the perception of the localite weighed heavier than the Gay Guy's umbrella on his pinky finger.
No wonder the weather was so crazy today. I wonder what other surprises are in store this chilly winter.

Moody - Definitely Female

2007-12-08T00:56:00.000+05:30

Ever tried to tap into that little, mean, sadistic part of you? Don't know what I am talking about? Oh you know, that little voice inside of you which asks you to push the person who cuts into your line or tell the pest who clings to you to go get a life. Yeah, that one. Don't deny the fact that it doesn't exist. All of us have it. Most of us ignore it or have conditioned ourselves to turn a deaf ear to it. What if one day you listen to it?

Don't freak out(as yet), I am not planning to turn into a psychopath. I am halfway there, but that's not the point. If your whole life you listened to the voice of reason, that voice which tells you what is right and what is wrong and then one day you realise, that voice doesn't belong to you. That voice has been forced into your head by society, by your parents, by your teachers, by your peers, by everyone but you. What do you do?

Coming back to the little streak of evil that I talked of before, listen to it, just once. The rush that comes with it is unparalleled. It is like breaking free of some chains which have left marks on your skin. The slight tingling sensation at its absence, the raw skin breathing for the first time in ages and the pain which doesn't let you forget of its existence. It will be back, oh yes, that you can be assured of, but till that time, enjoy the freedom.

It's been a rough week. Well that is what happens if you(I) decide to be over smart and decide to take a full week's leave instead of just three days, as is genuinely required. So you get nine days of blissful, stress free (as if!) and sleep filled days. But ever given a thought to the days that are to follow? Huh..I thought not! The Monday Blues seem Bluer than usual and the week seems to drag longer than Himesh's nasal crones. The shift back to waking up early on days that seem be out of a painting - foggy, chilly and (a feeling you can relate to) cold, is the most cruel part of it.

Add to it the amount of work at office which makes you wonder if they were just waiting for you to return and dump it on you, plus a few confusions in life in general and Voila! you have the perfect not-so-perfect week! Is it a surprise then that you snap at anyone who commits the grave error of ticking you off? I guess not. No, I am not trying to justify anything, because honestly, I don't do that. If there is one (of the millions) quality that I lack, it is spontaneity. The thought that goes into any action of mine makes it look like I plan to kidnap Mick Jagger (which reminds me, I must watch that show, I am told that it is quite funny)! So regretting what I said or did is totally out of the question. I just pity the people who cross my path on such occasions.

Few things that I learned over these last few days:

Confrontation works a great deal in sorting out any kind of misunderstanding.
Silence is not always golden.
Truth hurts as bad as being kicked in the wrong place, but it works!
The masks come off when under attack and the real face is quite ugly.

These may not make sense to you, but hey..did my words ever?

14444 and still going stong

2007-11-30T13:36:00.000+05:30

If someone were to mention the first thing that makes India stand out from the rest of the world, it would have to be (no,not poverty, unemployment, population explosion, illiteracy, etc! Let's try to be positive!) the Indian Railways! How long has it been since you last traveled by train? If your answer is "never", kindly go shoot yourself! In my opinion, the train travel, whatever the duration of the journey may be, is an amazing, adventurous experience in itself.

What's so great about it? For starters, the train itself! I think (and I am quite sure) the Indian trains hold a record for being the longest in the world. That was the statistics part for the skeptics. Besides that, there's also the fact that in no other mode of travel, namely bus or plane, do you get to interact so closely with perfect strangers. Well that is scary in a way, but only if you carry yourself like Paris Hilton or dress in jewels like Bappi Lahiri. For the rest of us commoners(read normal people), its no big deal.

I agree that a flight maybe the quickest and most convenient way to reach somewhere, but come on! You have to admit, its boring! There is nothing more artificial and mechanical than the process of boarding a plane, right from the check in to the plastic smiles that adorn the faces of the flight attendants! Trains on the other hand, ahh, now that's a totally enriching experience.

My family has a problem. Ok I am lying, we have lots of problems but right now let's just focus on the relevant one. We can never, yes, never manage to safely board a train with time to spare. It always has involved, involves and will involve last minute rush, panic and pandemonium. We have had drills to try to overcome this problem, (I might be exaggerating just a little bit, sue me) but to no avail. Buses, private vehicles, flights, all these we make it in time but trains, now there's a nemesis who time and again mocks us by "almost" slipping out of our hands.

If we are in the station on time(which is 9 out of 10 cases), the train would mysteriously be on a secretive platform (9 3/4th? only Harry Potter fans will catch the significance), and most probably, we would have entered the station from the other end. May the soul of the man who designed Bangalore station rest in peace as the noble soul was kind enough to keep it small. Anyone been to the Delhi railway station? Correction- anyone almost missed a train/ got lost/ missed a family member at the Delhi railway station? The place is humongous! I am quite sure the coolies at one platform run into the coolies of another only after a year or so(yeah yeah, I am exaggerating, again!)!

But once the tough part is done with i.e. once you enter the train, huffing and puffing, dragging the luggage, counting the no. of articles to check if anything is missing, the sights and sounds inside inadvertently bring a smile to the (till now distorted out of exhaustion) face. To an ardent observer of human behavior, it is a treat! There aren't many things I wish for, but if there is one thing that I sorely miss at these occasions, it is the lack of talent for sketching in me. How I would love to soak in the sights in front of me and convert them to something worth remembering and cherishing in material form.

Did you suggest photos? It may be a fact that of late I might forget my mobile phone while traveling but not my camera, but to click photos of perfect strangers? Now that's just rude, weird and well, a tad bit shady! So I make do with just memories of significant incidents and/or people that surround me and my journey.

General compartment, second class, first class, A/C compartment and yes, even goods compartment(there is a long story behind it and my memory fails me as I was but a toddler back then) - been there, done it all. The games that we played as kids, running from one bogey to another, jumping over the parts which looked like they may separate any moment, walking though 3 bogeys just to purchase and consume soft drinks, hanging from the chains that are meant to support the middle berth, peeping into the adjacent berth while on the top most one, maybe its memories like these which make you want to travel once again in those rickety, noisy, yet one of a kind mode of transport.

I DONT want to know what you did last summer!

2007-11-15T16:06:00.000+05:30

Why do people tell me things? Actually, it would be much more apt if I express it this way - WHY DO PEOPLE TELL ME THINGS???!!! What things? Things I don't want to know, things that concerns their personal lives, sometimes secrets, basically, things that do not concern me, in any manner.

Like every other characteristic, there are both upsides and downsides of being a good listener. I am in no "goody-goody" mood, so let's leave the upsides for some other time. Let's start with the downsides-
a.) Since everyone knows you for having a patient ear, they assume you like doing it. News flash- not always!
b.) People think you would rather listen than talk. Hello! I would talk if you would just let me!
c.) You end up doing something you never signed up for in the first place.

Don't get me wrong, this frustration isn't directed at everybody. Of course I love to listen to the ones I care about. I actually feel dejected if they don't come to me with their problems! This is directed at the strangers, the acquaintances who make me wish I had a gun. I may spit and spew venom here, but the fact of the matter is when it comes to such people, I am as meek as a poorly fed sacrificial lamb! I take liberties only with the ones whom I know won't take it the wrong way. With everyone else, its just the public face they would love to be familiar with - docile and all ears!

These kind of people range from a classmate who described in detail how he would woo his next target(the narrative included enlightening me with the sher he planned to use) to an ex-colleague who poured out his woes at work, all the petty politics encountered over the years and later on confessing that he liked me. I had known him for a month and apart from the aforementioned one sided conversation, all that had occurred between us was exchange of pleasantries in the morning and evening("Good Morning" and "Bye", to be precise).

What do you do in such situations? How long do you keep making excuses("I am on a call".."I don't drink coffee")? When polite rebuttals fail, what next? If I am going to be used as an agony aunt, I might as well charge them and make it worth the trouble!

Yeah right, as if..

Crack(er) it up!

2007-11-09T10:11:00.000+05:30

DIWALI!!! Yeah, I know the original word is Deepawali or Deepavali, but as long as there are crackers, sweets and a holiday involved, does it really matter? I did come across a few people insisting that the greeting be addressed as Happy Deepawali and not Happy Diwali, which, if I must make it clear, irritated me. The good old bard Shakespeare must be turning in his grave, seeing how nobody in this day and age pays any heed to the a rose by any other name blah blah thought. I hope they don't go a far as to legalize or should I say illegalize the use of the same. As if spoiling the names of Bombay, Calcutta, Madras, Pondicherry, Bangalore and numerous others wasn't enough for them.

But let's not start off with negative thoughts (too late eh?)! Diwali to me is really very special. It is one of those few festivals that we celebrate in grandeur, Krishna Janamashtami being the other. Now that I look back, I can remember almost every Diwali that we have celebrated, from what I wore (*grin*) to a lot of other details. Or maybe that's just my brain malfunctioning, as usual, storing too many things than is necessary.

If there are two things that mark this festival, they are food and crackers (okay I admit, for me food is important in any case, festival or not). I am quite glad and proud of the fact that we celebrate Diwali the same way our elders used to, in the most traditional manner possible (minus the superstitions and unworldly restrictions- thank heavens for that!). So if you see food being prepared in containers made of leaves, don't be alarmed (for those not from my part of the country, this may strike as quite peculiar). As a kid, you laugh at these traditions, rituals and customs, wondering why anyone in their right sense of mind would continue with these archaic practices! But as age and maturity (ahem) greet you, you learn that the only thing that marks you as an individual and separates you from the crowd, are your traditions.

Mingling with people from each and every background, in a country like ours, is a day to day experience. You meet, you learn, you adapt - its a continuous cycle (only the degree varying from person to person). Yet while going through all of it, you wonder where you stand in the big scheme of things. I am not referring to the ever elusive "Who am I?" (philosophical gibberish) , but the more general "How am I different from every Sawyer, Tracy and Potter?"(my version of Tom, Dick and Harry, thank you very much). That's when the aforementioned traditions, rituals and customs come into play.

If there is one thing that I have observed keenly while interacting with all kinds of people, it is the fact that however may be the manner of your dressing, behaviour or attitude (rural/modern/urban), everyone takes great pride in their community. "We don't do it that way..", "in our functions..", "we celebrate it in a different way.." - statements like these are more often than not accompanied by the look of a sense of belonging. You need not even be a religious devout for it! I agree that most of these(if not all) customs originate from a religious line of thought. But nowadays, does anyone really know (or sometimes even care) about it? Coming from a caste and family where purohits/pandits are a dime a dozen, I can assure you that these customs are as irrelevant as P.T. Usha in cricket (sheesh!that was a disastrous simile)!

Yet we continue to follow them, not because we are forced to, or because we are afraid of committing a "sin", but because that is what we have been taught, that is what our parents do and that is what our forefathers did. It is our comfort zone. It defines us, it defines where we come from. We may not know who will head the government after the next elections, but we can count on the fact that there will be Durga Pooja on Dussera, Lakshmi Pooja on Diwali and our favourite sweet vanishing as fast as democracy from Pakistan(I really need to end this simile massacre!).

We are, after all, slaves to our routines.

Six feet under

2007-11-07T19:58:00.000+05:30

Death- the one thing that fascinates me, the one thing that scares me. You can find an answer to anything else, you can experience and explain any other phenomenon, but not death. This isn't some philosophical gibberish or even an attempt at seeking spiritual answers for questions. Actually, it just might be.

If there is anything I firmly believe in, it is most definitely the finality of death. No priest, leader or institution can convince me otherwise. I whole heartedly believe that there is nothing 'beyond'. That there is no "light at the end of the tunnel, calling out to you". It is just silence, silence from the noise we claim to hate, and yet that which we crave. A blankness, a stillness which has absolutely no end. It would be like falling asleep, the only difference being, here you never wake up.

When your physical presence ceases to exist, so do you. That is exactly what scares me the most. In life we take each day as it comes, wondering, dreaming, planning for the days to come. But what if, what if one 'fine' day you were told exactly how many more days you had for the curtains to draw one last time. Worse, what if you were told the time limit that a loved one has remaining? How in the world does anyone find the strength to go on? It is not a mere object that is being snatched away from you, but a living, thriving entity, someone who has been a part of your life, someone who has been your life! How do you rise from such a low?

Letting go..

2007-11-01T19:55:00.000+05:30

More than a year since I started working, and the changes are quite apparent. It is one thing to be a student and another to be financially independent - a working woman. Although I must admit that staying at home, with your parents, superficially, both seem to be the same. Especially if you aren't a guy. The same deadlines (ok maybe a little extended now), the same barrage of questions - who, when, why, the same ensuing arguments and the same restrictions.

But dig deeper and you can see the differences. The questions, now, need not be answered. Well I don't mean to be rude, but there are times when you get fed up. Moreover it can frustrate anyone to return from work, traveling through irritatingly slow traffic, back home, to a quizmaster. As if controlling your rage in office wasn't bad enough. Call it escapism or running away or whatever you like, but the plain truth is it is easier to avoid conflicts if you just stay silent. I have learned this from experience and many a times it takes great will on my part to not explode. Though at the end of the day it really is worth it.

Family is the easiest and softest target you can find to relieve your frustrations. Friends can just end it and move away, colleagues can actually end up putting you in a lot of trouble and unless you are psychotic, acquaintances obviously do not figure on the list. But family, now they can't run anywhere. They have been tolerating you (and vice versa) for years now. Sometimes I wonder whether it is actually love or just adjustment. You get so used to these people in your life that any other way of life just doesn't seem plausible.

Yet it isn't right or fair that they have to bear the brunt of your boss being an incompetent jack ass, you slogging your ass off and not being even a little appreciated or some trouble or mess in your personal life. It just isn't fair. Oh well, 'life is fairly unfair' or something on these lines seem to play on my mind right now. But quotes are good only to quote, not when applied to reality. So the simple solution to it - grin and bear it. The monosyllables that you mouth makes for terrible conversation but at least it saves you the misery of spoiling your mood further.

Their point of view is quite understandable actually. They know that it is just a matter of time before the "bird leaves the nest" (what a crappy metaphor). Till then, they try to make the most of it, trying to be as involved as can be, not realising they are intruding upon your personal space and privacy. Growing up isn't about being an adult, aging more than 18. It is when you don't need them anymore, at least materialistically , sometimes even emotionally. That is what scares them the most. They are trying so hard to hold on to what is left of what used to be their life, little do they realise the frictions that are occurring as a cause of it.

It's easy to let go, holding on is the tough part.

2007-10-24T11:18:00.000+05:30

What is worse than having a friend whose girlfriend you aren't exactly a fan of? I'll tell you- the girlfriend making it quite obvious to your friend that she isn't comfortable with the two of you being together.

I am the kind of person who is more at ease with guys. Why? I am not sure but I think the fact that I have grown up with two brothers might have something to do with it. I am not exactly tomboyish, but I definitely cannot be classified as "girly" either. So it doesn't take me much time to gel with other fools of similar temperament. All this history has been laid out just to emphasize the fact that being with a guy is not new to me.

Usually, its a matter of time before I am introduced to the better half.The protocol been done away with, next comes the time for her to assess the "threat"-me! I am proud to state that 99% of the time, I am given the green signal. The rest 1% are the perennially doubtful ones, the ones who wouldn't let even a cow come near their prized possession.

I don't know why us females are always so suspicious over the other's intentions. That too, if it's a long term relationship, the insecurities are justifiable - out of sight, out of mind, the distance playing the role of an aging, waist expanding villain. But when you are just a call away, what's your problem! Sometimes (when I am in on my worst bitchy moods), I feel I should justify their cause for concern and teach them a good lesson in the process. But of course, my moral conscience(which is unfortunately,double the size of my ego) always butts in to stop me.

Don't they realize that if there's anything the guy should be protected from, it is them! A girlfriend who constantly questions you, confides her fears about your good friend (if i might add something here-the very same friend who got them together in the first place!) and makes no small matter of the fact that she is jealous, doesn't stand much chance in the long run.

As it is, once a friend finds love, rest assured for the next few months he/she forgets the existence of friends. To top that, the whole "love triangle-conspiracy theory" angle to it makes it even more difficult to handle. I do agree that sometimes friendship does blossom into love, but that doesn't mean you view anyone close to your better half with suspicion. If you can't trust the one you love, you have already lost it all.

Anyway, my solution to this dilemma- distancing myself from it all. Keep the confusion and your boyfriend to yourself, I want nothing to do with either. Am I compromising unnecessarily and losing out on good times? Compromise-yes, unnecessarily-no. I want my peace of mind and hope in the process she finds hers too.

Hyacinth

2007-10-19T10:10:00.000+05:30

How can two people continue to be in a relationship knowing that there is no future? I know it's unreasonable to think so much about the future when you are just getting to know someone. But once both of you know that there is more to it than just flirting around or going out together, don't you sit and think about it?

Doesn't it bother you that any moment, this beautiful thing might come to an end? Or do people blindly believe in the 'Ignorance is Bliss' policy, behaving like an Ostrich, sticking their neck into the sand, hoping and praying that the inevitable just happens to pass them by? You can't continue to look the other way, who will tell them that?

Some say it's not necessary that you get to marry the one you love, but that shouldn't stop you from loving. BULLSHIT! What will you gain from pursuing such an "arrangement"? Are people so hungry for love or are they in love with the idea of falling in love that they forget that it is not just about physical intimacy, it has more to do with emotional intimacy. Unless the former is more important, in which case it can be just termed as an affair or fling, not love.

Who am I to preach about love? Well, honestly, no one. But when I see people around me act so foolishly, plunging head long into it knowing fully well of the consequences, all I can do is grind my teeth and bare it. Even as a friend, you need to be in certain boundaries. You cannot tell your friends to just get it over with and stop torturing themselves further, especially when they look to you for that ever needed shoulder to cry on. You can just go so far. One step more, one word more and you might be misunderstood and in the worst case, asked to mind your own business in the coldest manner possible. After that, it can only go downhill from there.

"Cherish the moments as long as they last" will most probably be their excuse. "Don't act stupid!" would be mine. There is nothing to be gained from pursuing something that does and will continue to cause you pain. The sooner you end it, easier will it be to move on.

Its only Words

2007-10-18T10:02:00.001+05:30

There are a few people who are very good with words. I feel blessed to be lucky enough to know at least a couple of them personally. Talking to them comes very easily, the flow of words stopping only when there is a genuine reason. All I need to say is "Hey" and the rest goes off smoothly from there.

I am the kind of person who likes personal interaction more than telephonic conversations. Why? Well, for one, you cannot see the other person's expressions when you are on the phone. You never know if the "so nice to talk to you" is genuine or they are just rolling their eyes in reality. Also, if you don't learn from your mistakes, you are not fit to be called a human! Ok, what that meant was that some people are great "voice modulators" and I have been foolish enough in the past to have believed what I heard and pay the price for the same.

So nowadays the only people I have lengthy conversations with, over the phone, are those that I completely trust. I can sometimes even imagine the kind of smile, frown or mischief on their faces upon my remarks or comments. That's the kind of 'connection' I enjoy(too much dialogue-baazi hunh).

Anyway, I was talking to this one friend last evening. I wasn't in the best of my moods but I never allow my moods to control me or my behaviour. Just because something is going wrong in my life doesn't mean I should let if affect others. And so I picked up the call. I give myself more credit than is due as it turns out that I couldn't mask the dullness in my greeting. Luckily, pretending also comes easily(even if a bit too late) to me. So blamed it on sleepiness and boredom.

As I mentioned earlier, he is one of those few who are so good with words. The topic discussed was something serious as it affects not only mine but a few other people's plans but once that was out of the way, it was a joy to listen to him speak. I am not a sucker for compliments and honestly, I don't like someone complimenting me on my face. According to me, compliments are best served behind the back and criticisms up front(the only exception being when it is related to the physical appearance on a special day :D).

But this conversation was different. In between the silly leg pulling games that we always play, a few compliments were inserted. I didn't even realise it, such was the grace with which they were 'executed'! It did lift my spirits. What also lifted my spirits was the return of one of my friends/colleagues from her leave and the fact that she did so well in her GMAT exam. I didn't know I was getting so used to these "regular" people in my life. Its not a good thing for me. I know for sure, that one of these days, things will change and again I will be amongst some relative strangers, trying to find my footing, starting from scratch all over again.

Until then, let me just enjoy these days.

Managing myself

2007-10-17T11:16:00.000+05:30

Frustration. An emotion I am very used to, I can identify with. If the frustrations are brought from within, its easier to handle, but if they are brought on by a third person, playing it down takes up a lot of energy.

When you start your professional life, what is the one thing that plays on your mind, more than anything(except the money)? Well, for me, it was the thought of working under a stranger, who, by sheer experience and age would be senior to me. Throughout my childhood I have heard both good and bad stories about my parents' bosses and was hence thoroughly curious to find out about mine. Would he be bald?Maybe. Would he be too old?Nah..nobody is too old in this industry! Would he be interesting?Hmmm..

Looking back, I wouldn't mind if he were either bald or too old! This man, who is supposed to be a "manager", who is supposed to be good in people skills, asks his team members whether he should leave early as his wife is acting cold towards him. Yes. You read that right. My skin crawled when I heard this and trust me, I would give any therapist as much as desired to erase this traumatic, ghastly memory from my idiotic remembers-everything-clearly brain!

Forget being a good manager, he doesn't even seem to be a proper man! Call me narrow minded or old fashioned, but I am of the strong opinion that a man should behave like, well, a man! To hell with metrosexuality or the over hyped "finding your feminine side"! Nothing is as demotivating or creepy as the first manager in your professional life giggling during the call with the client(obviously on mute) or standing with his hands on his hips or walking with a very Bobby Darling gait.

No,he's not gay. He looks it, he acts it, but I guess he doesn't know it. He is apparently happily married(an oxymoron?). But that's besides my point! What is my point? I don't know! All I know is that with each passing day, it is becoming more and more difficult to hide my disgust towards this man. Yet, I have no other options. Compared to the cunning crook who is sitting and plotting in Mysore as to how to get us back there, who merrily dines at the expense of another and tells him that the onsite trip is canceled only when the bill is paid, my manager seems to be the lesser of the two evils. Much lesser!

But when I hear my friends talk how knowledgeable their manager is or some even admitting they don't even know who their manager is, the pangs of jealousy inside of me become uncontrollable. Of all the under paid morons in this company, why in the world did I have to be stuck with the man who abandons his place and shares our cubicle when in trouble? WHY!!??

Connection Reset

2007-10-15T17:47:00.000+05:30

Sleep..I need sleep..My mind is so exhausted right now! All because of my stupid phone. I recently(Sat to be more precise) activated GPRS on my phone for lack of anything better to do. The cost seemed reasonable enough and given my single status and of course the provision of the office phone for other calls, as it is I hardly spend anything towards me phone bill. So my thought was "Why not?"

Coming to that, I have friends who have spent more than a thousand per month on just phone bills! Whoever said that love is blind forgot to mention that love can cost a lot too(pun intended)! Anyway, what prompted me besides general boredom was my curiosity. Such instances actually make me wonder if I was a cat in my previous life, the signs are quite obvious to miss. There's just one flaw in this theory-I don't believe in rebirth!

Ok so coming back to the 'connectivity' issue, The activation was a cakewalk, kudos to Vodafone for that. Any technically illiterate person could have also followed the simple steps that they provided though their SMS. Once the setup was complete,it was time to test it. The phone browser takes just too much time to load and redirect and so downloading a suitable browser was the need of the hour. That was the start of my woes.

Two days, two full days I kept trying to connect to my favourite sites(that wasn't posing any problem). But it also required me to log in repeatedly to view each page. Eventually it turned out that the beta version, the one that I had downloaded was the culprit and the old version was the answer to my problems. At two in the night(morning?), after downloading the older version and checking for its performance and to my great relief, discovering that everything was working fine, did I call it a day(night?)! Why couldn't I just wait for the following morning, contact the service guy and have the thing fixed? Well, to be honest, my pride and ego wouldn't let me!

I hate generalisations and if there is anything I hate more than generalisations, it is stereotypes. How is that connected in any way to my "story"? Well, "you are a girl, technology is way beyond your reach" qualifies as a stereotype, doesn't it? I am happy to announce that I became an exception to this rule and I am now 'connected' to the world through my phone. In fact, half of this blog was composed on my phone, while traveling back home!

I am loving it! :)

For old times sake

2007-10-14T18:00:00.000+05:30

*sigh* Sunday is coming to an end. Yeah, i know it is a very regular phenomenon and I am just stating the obvious. But today was an exceptionally good one. It's one thing to go out and another to go out and actually have a good time!

A couple of days back, I was just chatting with one of my friends on gtalk out of boredom when the topic shifted to how long it has been since we met and spent some time together. Thanks to office resources and lack of any serious pending work at both ends, I ended up calling him and we spoke for quite long. The matters "discussed" were basically how I think he is pretending to be busy, acting too smart for his own good and the if we don't meet very soon, I will make sure that he is covered in bruises. He had the same thoughts, except the bruises part.

So it was decided that Sunday we should meet up. Easier said than done. It had been a while since I met quite a few friends, most of whom are busy preparing for that stupid test that is claiming the free time of a lot of people of my age group(plus/minus two years)- CAT. Hence, the plan was proposed that all of us have lunch together, after these busy bodies finish with their Mock CATs.

Next came the tough part- catching each of them, requesting for a few moments out of their precious time and to get them to agree. Mind you, it wasn't just studies that would have acted as a hindrance, but we are talking about asking guys to spare some time on the day of an India-Australia match. If there's one thing yours truly is good at, it's persuasion. For some, a "pretty please" was good enough, for others emotional blackmail plus veiled threats did the job. One secret-when I was convincing one, I told the other that everyone else was coming and hence not to act as a spoilsport!*evil grin*

People were asked and convinced, day and time was decided, next came the venue. Now here, I got hardly any help. "Hey..decide the venue and just let me know" was the common response. That wasn't good for me. I had no problem deciding where to go but if it wouldn't turn out well, I would have six tired, hungry, angry men to take care of and trust me, no way did I want that to happen! After much deliberation with one of them, I finally fixed the place and crossed my fingers and messaged all of them last night about it.

Here comes the element of surprise-not one, but all of them turned up earlier than planned! The only waiting involved was for the table, which wasn't a big issue as there was no dearth of "entertainment" to pass the time. I had made a rule right from the time all of them turned up-no one is to discuss the questions/answers and except an occasional slip up a couple of times, all of them did adhere to it!

The food was excellent(especially for the price that we paid for it) and for a change, us veggies had good options and actually went in for second servings! Everyone was at ease, teasing each other and a lot of gay jokes were passed(as I remarked to one of them-such jokes seem to be in abundance in our group!).

The funny thing that struck me while looking around the table-I was the only girl there. And yet, nothing seemed as odd to any of us, me included. I guess that's the best part about having such friends, you don't have to think too much, you just blend into the common space, forgetting the trivial superficialities.

After I reached home, i got a message from one of them, thanking me for organising this little meet and expressing how much fun he had. I know they say that "there is no thank you/sorry in friendship", but honestly, it doesn't hurt to slide in these two once in a while, when you actually mean it. I feel accomplished. :)

Relatively Sane

2007-10-13T20:54:00.000+05:30

Phew! What a day. It all started yesterday when my aunt called up home to inform that since my niece(she is 20 years older than me) is in town, they will be coming home today for lunch. My mom switched into the hyper mode. What to prepare tomorrow, how many to expect, what to buy, etc. Now don't get me wrong, usually she behaves in a very composed manner, as is expected from a working woman handling her family since the past 27 years.

But when it comes to relatives, especially if they are from my father's side, you better step out of the way. I seriously wonder why. I have even confronted her and told her that their "judgement" of her should make absolutely no difference to her or our lives. She obviously denies the fact that she is trying to win them over and hence the charade continues. I have accepted the fact and have resigned myself to it.

Its not that easy though. Her restlessness rubs off on me and since my brother somehow very cunningly is missing from the scene on such days, I am left to bear the brunt of her irritation. It starts right in the morning. Since almost every Friday I sleep late, it automatically translates to me waking up late on Saturday. Thats usually not a problem, its almost a routine now. But not today. I was woken up by her at around 10, thats like 2 hours too early! Not to forget that at around 7 my sleep was broken and I panicked looking at the clock, forgetting that it was a non working day.

My hands were itching to start the computer and sit online, but if I don't learn a few lessons after 23 years of living with my family, I consider myself to be one retarded, spastic creature. So there I was, standing outside the kitchen, not even mentioning breakfast, waiting for my orders. And did they come! Though I must confess that since she has raised me, she knew what all I am capable of(hehe) and hence kept my chores simple. My favourite one though was the role of the taster! I am supposed to be a stone emotions wise but when it comes to senses, mine are hailed as the best in the house(thank you thank you). So any dish/dessert/edible item that is prepared, first comes to me for the honours.

Needless to say, today there were many to be inspected! They all passed the test, few underwent minor alterations, and I am very happy to announce that they were all hits with the relatives. And I am not basing my claims on just the mandatory praises showered by them, but because second servings were asked for, and that can never be misleading! The pleasure was apparent on my mother's face and the look of amusement on mine.

Now coming to those people who single handedly succeeded to cause so much mayhem in a day of our lives - my relatives. If you have seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding, you won't have a problem recognising them. The loudest, most boisterous, biggest bunch of happy and healthy people - that's them! But I must admit, there's not a single dull moment when the Ballals get together. Everyone seems to have a good sense of humor, the best of which comes up when pulling someone's leg. And sarcasm..oh boy..if you are new to this family, you should be warned, all of us are full of it!

Come to think of it, I had a good time. I like relatives when they come in "short" packages ie for a few hours. They come, they eat, they crack jokes, we reminisce, they call us to their house and then they leave. Short and sweet. Anything more than that and its time to make excuses about mailing someone from work or having a headache and take a leave from the gathering. I wonder if they feel the same way about me and my family. Actually, I am sure that they do! :D

Crib..crib..crib..n oh yes..crib!

2007-10-12T16:42:00.000+05:30

A Friday. A nice, relaxing, happy Friday. And here I am, stuck to my seat, in front of the computer, looking at that whimsical clock on the bottom right corner, waiting for it to turn to 5:00 PM. No, not because then I can leave and go home, but so that I can switch off my brain for the day and listen to my teammate walk our demented, retarded client through a thoroughly depressing presentation, while seated next to our IQ-level-below-20-PM. I am not being bitchy, neither is this stemming out of bitterness.

It's the truth. Imagine a eight year old..no..make it five year old child, who is so spoiled and pampered by her parents that she thinks that Shah Jahan built the Taj Mahal not for his love Mumtaz but for her and every time she sees marble, it should be brought to her. Hence, stubborn, demanding or unreasonable would be an understatement to describe her. What ST demands, ST gets. That is what they tell her, or maybe they don't. She just assumes that since she is the privileged one to have us as the service providers (read slaves) it is but obvious that we need to be subservient to her.

Coming to the "services" that we provide, it can range from teaching basics of Math to entertaining her when she is all alone in her office and it is way beyond office hours in ours!
I mean come on, isn't it obvious! If she stays in the office, the whole world should give her company in it. What kind of a place works for "only" 8.5 hrs per day! It's a different matter that we work even before she comes to office as she would have given work the previous evening. But all that is immaterial. Their company doesn't pay our company to complain or ask such questions.

Questions. I have started to hate them. Silly me used to think that questions are good, questions are just a way to probe some more and gain some more knowledge. Ha! if things continue this way, very soon we will have to make those "class passes" like in school and take our PMs or better still, take Her Highness' permission to go to the washroom. If someone goes on leave, I should be informed. If someone falls ill, they should inform me for how many days that will continue! Sure. What's next? Should we also find out who built the universe in exactly how many days? That too of course, by EOD.

For those who claim slavery is no longer existent, kindly remind me to set up a meeting in her office.