Phew!

It is really clear to me now how consuming this new job posting has been. The last I wrote was right before my confirmation as an Area Manager. The heavy title comes with its own set of pros and cons. The last few months have been a roller coaster to say the least.

So what gives me all the time in the world now to write again, you'd ask. Well, life has its own ways of letting you take a break even when you don't want to. And what an ironic turn of events. I am out for a movie with friends after ages at Godforsaken Rajkot and our bike skids around a turn to evade a few nasty dogs who're at my heel - literally - I take a fall and break my back.

Result - I'm at home for 6 weeks - 2 weeks down already - 4 more to go. I can roam around but can't lift weights/bend/stretch, can't jump around and can't travel. So I've been working from home and trying to keep myself occupied with my books and my guitar (which I'm not supposed to play for long :(). I drink two glasses of milk everyday and sit in sunlight, and I have truckloads of Pain killers and Calcium supplements to my avail! But I'm not complaining. I get to spend time at home, which is more than I could ask for.

This also gives me time to put things in perspective - there are sooo many things on my list that can't be done with a troublesome spine - with this I know that I can't keep putting life off for work and I can't take my blessings for granted.

To all my friends whose weddings I missed because of this interesting turn of events - I'm sorry! Will get better and meet up ASAP!
To all my friends with whom my travel / party plans got dumped - I'll make it up to you!

The POA for now -> Get back in shape and then go skiing!! LOL!!

Kotra Diaries II

Random notes from across the trip:

Mango trees bowing low with dozens of fruit - entirely organic, unaltered, unsweetened

Jamun so abundant - you can't help squishing it under your feet as you walk - the ones you don't eat

Children lined up on the roads with tokras full of fruit - jamun and khajoor mostly - willing to sell their loot for a mere Rs. 5/- or Rs. 10/-

Cattle that refuses to budge from the road knowing that it is worth more to its master if a car runs over.

The elusive power supply - elusive being an understatement

The solitary kingfisher that feasts on the local produce in the rivulet - strutting across wires, branches and rocks

The fleeting storks

The kids oblivious of clothes - or a bath for that matter

The lone firefly that haunts the neem tree in the still night

The social bath the women attend in the afternoons once they're done with their chores for the day

The disarming smiles that radiate of innocence and sheer goodness. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Humbling. Overwhelming. Belittling.

Kotra Diaries I

I could look at it as a very unfair move on the part of my employer. I could even look at it as paid vacation – dunno yet how much of it is gonna be paid though – the rate at which I’m going, I’m partying every weekend and bingng like crazy.

For the uninitiated, I’m in Rajasthan right now. I’m typing this out while I’m in a cosy AC room of a decent hotel in Udaipur, but that’s not where I am for the rest of the week. I’m working in two remote tribal villages in the interiors of Rajasthan.

It’s not like I’ve never been in a village before, but this one month is letting me absorb the life I’ve seen glimpses of in movies and books and stories my grandma told me. Something like – “There wouldn’t be any electricity where we used to live” (and that is a tale of 50 years ago) was ingested but never comprehended until now.

I am getting to see new things – or the same things in a different light. For instance, I knew about the overloaded Aces and Taxis that run from village to village in these parts through something as superficial as a Fevicol TVC, but only now do I get to sit in such a vehicle. You may have a colleague sitting in your lap. You may have the driver craning over your leg to shift gears. You may even have a goat stepping on your feet. And this I’m talking of the luxurious ride – since I’m a “Madam” from the city. The regulars sit on the top of the Jeep, cling on to a beam or a bar and travel standing. Sometimes the width of this lumbering elephant is increased by a foot on both sides thanks to the 40 people aboard. I also get to hear gory stories of people falling off, losing limbs and lives, of accidents that are best left unexplained. But this doesn’t stop the villagers from waiting hours for that one car – no matter how crowded – boarding it and going to their destination for work or otherwise.

I get to see the disintegrating Aravali mountain range with hills becoming easier and easier to traverse, the rain water flowing out of the lands, failing to satiate the villages and their farms. I get to see lives – such different lives – sometimes an epitome of humanity, love and principles and at other times – utter ridiculousness. Certain customs – I cannot comprehend; the lifestyle that I look up to; the grit that I could never gather.

I see kids who want to study – who aspire to be a “Sir” or a “Madam” like me – who do not have a decent teacher to teach them right. I see these kids – happy with their lives – sent to other villages to work in Cotton Fields. I see a spark in some of them – a spark that could work wonders if given the right platform. I see a vicious circle that I cannot cut through – the motivation to study and the resources to provide for it need to be driven together.

I see men and women who possess surprising clarity about the life, problems of their village and solutions for upliftment – that makes me wonder about the efficacy of education in the first place – should we instill literacy or wisdom?

At the same time I see raw, earthy beauty in all forms. The contorted branches of weather beaten trees, the bugs that attack me and turn into stink bombs, the small rivulets that beckon be to get drenched in them, the lonely routes across the villages that I tread on, the beautiful people with beautiful smiles all around opening their hearts out to me even though I am the stranger, the alien, the newbie in their abode.

More on this later.

Breeding Perfection, eh?

Saw this TVC – a small boy is asking his mom is this pitiful voice when he would become taller and the Mom is told by this doctor that she should give her boy Complan so that he grows well, and lo and behold! The kid grows tall enough to pluck a fake mango from the tree and hand it over to a shorter kid.

It was almost like an advertisement for a fertilizer for plants or premium dog food or something – as if you’re breeding something – for extra green leaves and extra bright flowers or for smooth and glossy fur. I mean, he’s your child for crying out loud, he’s gonna get his height from you or from the alternate generation of your family and that’s it – the body is not an elastic band or clay dough! Yes, you can build a frame if you get into sport and of course, eat well, but your inherent structure stays with you. You can be fit or build muscle and get rid of fat – but it can’t go deeper than that.

And whatever happened to healthy food in the first place? Why are the super moms today going for ‘healthy’ alternatives instead of sticking to good ol’ fruits and green leafy vegetables. I agree that we have polluted our own food chain to the extent of ingesting more pesticides than nutrients – but atleast the primary goal could be the natural way out, or shouldn’t it?!

We are buying good health in tetra packs at hyper marts at a huge premium today, but fail to hand over a real apple to the family. The air miles (read carbon print) that we add to our sins can go in another post of mine..

Anyway, parents today could do without engineering their kids to be the smartest, tallest, brightest children thanks to the RDA, DHA and what not – let the kid be and feed him right – correct the food fads and ensure that he spends more time playing a real game with real kids instead of PS3 or Wii or the new and exceedingly ridiculous Kinect (I mean seriously, jumping around awkwardly in front of a screen!!??)

Go for the good life and let the kids be! Please don't try to breed perfection.

From the Plop to all that Pondering

Every kid curses him for noticing the apple fall – thanks to him we have to go through the ordeal of learning all the Mechanical Physics there is around us. He has been praised, honoured, paid homage to and ridiculed. But he was a mere mortal at the end of the day. Seriously, had no one noticed anything else FALL before???? I mean, seriously! The moral of the story here is not gravity – it is something else. So Isaac Uncle was lolling around under the shade of the apple tree on a fairly pleasant day I am assuming. He was clearly doing nothing at all, except perhaps, taking one of his innumerable naps, dozing in and out of his daydreams – probably pining over the neighbourhood damsel. Had the apple fallen next to him, he would’ve just eaten it up. But no, the fateful apple decided to plonk itself on our Genius’s curly haired head. The apple bothered our man, hence he paused and pondered and brooded and fretted over that poor apple. He had to blame someone for this misfortune – and enter – Gravity. Which brings us to the question – why do things ‘get’ to us? Why do people fight for a cause? Is it just an itch? Why do they go all the way to find out about something? Is it mere curiosity? I don’t think so. It’s only when YOU are affected, do you want to move out of your comfort zone and bring things back to normalcy – relative normalcy at that. On the other hand, I feel it’s okay to be this self involved. If we go by the butterfly effect, what affects you is probably affecting the solitary glow worm that has been boycotted by the other glow worms for glowing a little too brightly in the quaint tropical forests of Balukpong. So at the end of the day, whatever you do is probably good for people around too. As long as you keep that in check, you’re good to go :D Unlike Newton, who, to satiate his urge to ‘find out’ screwed up tons of millions of happy teenage lives to follow!

Of Mice and Dolphins

So I am reading Douglas Adams.. yet again.. I can't seem to get enough of the bizarre, intelligent, witty world of his that doesn't quite fit into any genre at all - science fiction? humour? fantasy? not really - everything is very real and very improbable. But it's consuming nonetheless.

You love to see Arthur Dent in his innate misery - the quintessential common man- not so lucky with the ladies, not so lucky with anything for that matter. Zaphod Beeblebrox is irritatingly hard to resist - clueless, vain and patronising - yet very essential.

As you read the book you are only wondering how Adams conjured all that up. One quality that stands out in his style of writing is that the reason you can't keep the book down is because there's a bombardment of pictures in your head as you read. Adams will be talking about something as abstract as the enormity of the Universe projected in a vortex and come up with a piece of fairy cake. So the reader is looking at a fairy cake and something tells him that he is able to grasp the concept since he can visualise the idea - even though it is just the hungry thought of a stupid fairy cake.

Douglas Adams has been quoted to the point of belonging to a list of hackneyed phrases. And I'm sure you've quoted him without even knowing it.

To all who've read Adams you already know what I mean. To those who haven't, you're missing something!

Sing the Saga of Victory

So I just read on one of my friend’s facebook profiles that UNESCO has declared our National Anthem to be the best in the world. Well, I wasn’t really surprised. I’ve heard anthems of many countries – sometimes through the Encarta CD Ma got for us and Anant and I used to spend hours exploring it; And other times at the Olympics or an international game when the players would stand with their heads held high voicing the words as their country’s anthem would play, sending a chill through my spine every time. To be honest, I always found our anthem much more melodious and touching than the others, not because I’m an Indian but as an entirely neutral judge basing my opinion purely on the basics of music and rhythm I’ve grown up with. Jana Gana Mana rings through your senses as it plays in the short 52 seconds and makes you feel a part of the humungous piece of land – pluralist in the truest sense of the word – in every aspect – language, religion, race, cuisine, culture and beliefs. It scales almost two octaves making it not very easy to sing, but it transcends the listener into a sonic roller coaster of sorts, scaling up the tempo and giving that racy feeling in your tummy. I’m sure anthems throughout the world give this feeling to all the people who sing them. And there’s never a fair way to judge ‘the best’ among the lot – it’s like a baby pageant – I mean come on! Every child is the most beautiful thing in the world for her parents.

So anyway, I thank UNESCO for giving us this tag – Kudos to Gurudev for writing such a beautiful song with such deep lyrics. I have sung this one song for fourteen years of my life everyday. And even today when I hear the anthem playing anywhere at all, I stand up – Regardless of what my friends say or people think. It’s just that this one song that we sing with our heads high up in the air also will, for generation to come, remind us of the slavery and oppression our people have withstood – for centuries together and still sustain – in other, less blatant forms. This song was written as an ode to the very Empire that enslaved us and tried to make us “The White Man’s Burden”. Nonetheless, it’s OUR anthem, and will always remain so. And every time we sing it, hum it or stand up to it with due respect, we will feel Indian.

Nasties Beware!

They’ve found a peculiar life form in some obscure, murky lake in California that lives on Arsenic. Yes, people the most definitely fatal Arsenic. We can boast of this trivium since we’ve all watched the movies and read the trashy spy novels. So what, most people would ask – it’s no big deal. We discover new life forms all the time, because life is constantly evolving. So why the headlines? That's coz no life form so far was known to be As-friendly. Why do certain broad spectrum antibiotics that were earlier highly effective on pathogens over time lose their punch? That’s because the pathogens themselves are evolving and undergoing rapid mutations to become stronger and more immune. Earlier toothpastes used to contain Triclosan, a popular cleansing agent. But over the years Triclosan has lost its potency since it was so widely used in all cleansers (face washes, disinfectants, and wait for it.. even toilet cleaners) that the “nasties” are now immune to it. So we look for other substances.

Now do we realise that Cancer is basically mutated cells. And the worst of cancers are after all treated with the deadliest of poisons – more advance the stage, stronger the dosage of chemotherapy. They are killing the cancer with controlled quantities of poison and obviously the patient’s body takes a heavy toll too. People like Lance Armstrong survive deadly cancer because they are inherently very strong mentally and physically and their bodies can sustain the toxicity. Others, sadly, can’t.

With this build up, here’s the point I’m trying to make – aren’t we making nasties deadlier ourselves? We are poisoning ourselves, our environment, the entire food chain. Today a certain bacterium is compatible with Arsenic. If this bacterium turns into a pathogen, what do we kill it with? DDT? No – too much off it running through our veins already. Triclosan? Ineffective and useless. Chemotherapy? Oh wait, this pathogen actually likes chemotherapy. It feeds on it.
I’m not panicking nor do I intend to create panic. We have enough crises to worry about already – global warming slowly getting into the clichéd line now. I’m just trying to say that we can reduce the toxicity in our systems as much as possible today. Don’t drug yourself every time you have fever with antibiotics. Don’t use ultra strong disinfectants. Don’t drain all the soapy water in one go. Think of ways to conserve soap/detergents/disinfectants while you keep yourself aptly clean. The water you’ve washed clothes with can be used to flush your toilet and spare your toilet cleaner. Grow a kitchen garden. You spare yourself truckloads of pesticides that you get free with your groceries along with a good hobby/exercise. Grow plants all the time. Anytime. Anywhere. Tend to them. Green is good. Go organic, but also account for the huge carbon footprint of the air miles on that product. I remember talking to a ‘green’ person once and she proudly said – “We’ve got rid of the geysers in our house!” When I asked her how her family manages during winters, she stumped me with this – “We heat the water on the stove” So it’s important to realise which option is greener – is it 3 disposable paper cups in a day or a mug that someone is going to wash with “Pril” or “Vim” and pollute the water. We have to go down to the minutest of details when we make a green decision. Otherwise the nasties are going to get us soon!

Saying something stupid..

You know that feeling when your alter ego takes over? The feeling when you do the exact opposite of what you’re known to be? Well, sometimes, it’s just plain impossible to behave the way you always do or act the way you are supposed to. Sometimes, the outspoken resort to silence. Sometimes, the most expressive keep it to themselves. Sometimes, the timid stand up and stand out. Sometimes, the stoics slip up. Sometimes, the righteous draw grey. You find that you are not the person you are known to be. You find yourself not speaking up when you would have raved and ranted for hours. You think tons inside but draw a blank on the outside. You know when that happens – when the world is at war, and when you are hopelessly, desperately, irrevocably in love.

A crisis sees the best of men and the worst of men. Love just makes one become a better person.

Redefining.. or trying to..

Thoughts defy me. They've been evading me for quite a few weeks now. Every second day, I have been hitting my own blog like one of those Howard Wolowitz loser geeks and have been wondering what to come up with this time. I have been trying to look for something that's bugging me this time, or something I'm strongly feeling for, or even something that I found funny. But nothing seems to pop put.

So have I after all run out of things to write about or for that matter, think about and feel for? Or is that too many thoughts are crowding my preoccupied brain and indifferent heart that it is difficult to choose what to pen down? I would like to pretend it's the latter coz that makes me look quite profound.

The time I get to myself during my long commutes these days consumes me with random thoughts - thoughts about home, work, friends, the future.. what I expect of it.. It's like my mind goes into overdrive when I'm sitting in that crowded bus or standing next to a bunch of overwhelming jasmine. I'm thinking about what I'm doing with life, where I'm headed and more. Much much more. But it's all as if someone else is thinking all this for me. It doesn't disturb me - all this pondering. It's almost as if I'm thick skinned now. All these issues are neatly stacked away in a box as soon as I'm out of these 'episodes'. But I enjoy day dreaming about anything and everything too. I gave up my iPod and the overpowering music that I listen to to just think things through. Because in a way I also believe that if you think of something long and hard enough, it may actually come true. I believe in "The Secret".

I notice that even while I'm trying to figure out stuff for myself in this post, I'm actually just wandering around like I always do in my fits of thought-trains in train-thoughts. I guess that's why this space is called 'Imbroglio'. Coz that's me.

Hearty Hyderabad

I had always heard about the city - only with reference to food and pearls. The city had already come to me in some way or the other before - a friend's mom got me pearl earrings once. Another friend got me Karachi Bakery biscuits and another still got me biryani when he flew down which turned out to be amazing.

I landed here and bunked with friends. I got the tips and pointers I needed about the city. And as each day passed I built my own opinion of everyone and everything here.

It's a city drenched with history, old monuments still stand calmly by the roads laid with stone. Cultures blend here in the most unimaginable way. Muslims celebrate Ganeshotsav. Non vegetarian non-muslims make the most of Ramzan and savour Haleem. The name of every place is as colourful as the people - Begumpet to Jagathgirigutta - I'm pretty used to the names now. But initially I would step back to actually know what is what.

The food is a good blend for all palettes. You can't get enough of the biryanis. The bakeries are ubiquitous. And so are the South Indian Restaurants. I've had Italian, Lebanese and Thai food here - not that I haven't had these cuisines in other metros - but not at THESE prices.

The people are as warm as they are fun. Either they speak Telugu and have strong political opinions about Andhra and Telangana, or they speak Hindi with an attitude that leave you gaping for the first few conversations. After a while you find yourself speaking in the same way. There is a surprising Marathi, Oriya and Bihari influence in parts of the city too. And like every other place, the Marwadis adorn the markets turning Begum Bazaar and Lingampally into Mini Rajasthan where people are sticklers for Baba Ramdev products and follow the Swadeshi cult. You run into tribals at the Paradise crossing selling toy bows and arrows that you used to buy at Dusherra from the fair. You see one of them with a capacitor turned into a earring. And you wonder - East is east and west is west - and the twain do meet at times.

I wonder why I'm falling in love with this city so much. Probably it reminds me of where I come from - a city of smiling people with huge appetites. Perhaps I just like the food. Or the winding roads where driving is always a pleasure. It could be that I am comfortable with the work and the routine and touch wood, haven't had any tough times so far. Or may be, just may be, the friends I have here make all the difference. The friends who make for me - a home away from home.

Within and Without

When we were kids, the only grooming we would be subjected to was a frequent hair cut. The frequency would be decided by our moms. We just ended up sitting in those gigantic chairs, sometimes propped on extra cushions and see ourselves frowning while the nice lady would spray us with cold water snipping away to glory. As we grew up, we decided for ourselves, when it was time for 'more than just a hair cut'. And the list has always grown. For everyone today, a monthly visit to the salon is mandatory, regardless of the skin type, hair length, time available and willingness to invest/spend in this area (choice of verb here is again relative).

And it is not as simple as it used to be. These days you have to choose your salon carefully. You always have to call in first and take an appointment, unless you want to wait up queued in for hours and be subjected to the snobbish stares of the staff. You also have to be prepared for an overdose of "You Look Ugly" comments from the staff that provides you the services you are paying through your nose for. No matter how good or bad you look, while getting that treatment, the 'nice' lady would go on and on about how badly you need a "Hair Spa", a facial, an Anti-Tanning Treatment or a Fruit Peel. With all the jargon thrown at you, and you are trying to decipher how peeling something off would make it better, you are also told how tanned and wrinkled your skin is, how rough your hair is and how unhealthy your nails are.

With all the "Must Have" Procedures thrown at you, you either dismiss getting any other torture done by saying you'll come back later for the same, or you get brainwashed and agree to what they tell you to do. Either which way, the end result is unsatisfactory. While in the former scenario, you come out of the salon feeling worthless, insignificant and just another Plain Jane, in the latter case, you just feel thoroughly robbed. Of course, if you do get all the extra add-ons done, they can't stop telling you how magnificent you look while you're paying that fat bill!

So it's up to you. Either you brave that well lit mirror and sit up strong willed saying to yourself that you DO NOT need that Hair Power Dose which claims to transform your hair, or you go in there ready to empty your bank account to feel oh-so-pretty for a few hours.

Anyhow - you would always be beautiful. Being pretty is just ephemeral.

The box of nuts

The insignificance in life is sometimes most important. The moments we ignore to run after what we see at the end of the tunnel are the ones that might bring us that rare smile. I remember walking with my grandfather to the shop around the corner for petty things like curds and stationery. He was a slow, cautious walker. He used to stop once in a while to pick up a screw or a nut or a bolt lying in the way. I used to find it very funny as a child. It was a little game for me. I would hunt the road as we walked to find my own treasures and show them proudly to him. He would just smile - that soothing smile of his. When we would come back home, he would keep these random nuts and bolts in a little tin box. We had a full fledged tool box and whatever appliance would need to be fixed in the house, he would get to work - using these nuts and bolts as spares. The entire set of spanners, screw drivers, files, etc were neatly stacked in one place for these odd Sunday jobs. Whether it was oiling the rattling fan, or priming the motor, we were his enthusiastic and officious assistants. At the end of the operation we would be assigned marks on 100, but none of us every aced that score. He always saved a mark or two. And that kept us going.

When we grew up, he gave us his coin collection and his stamp collection, which is the best inheritance I could get. Both are rich, old and varied. I guess I get my fetish for collecting bus tickets, movie tickets, dinner bills and the works from him :) I remember saving wrappers of chocolate that I used to share with a friend. I collect all the junk in the world. But I've learnt that most often than not - all isn't junk after all.

So coming back to the small things in life - an auto wala chatting you up, or the song that you are humming that automatically starts playing in the mall you are at, the friend you are thinking about who's thinking about calling you the very same moment, or even the one scoop of strawberry ice cream that you treat yourself to - these are the insignificant things that make your life significant - make it worth living.

So while going down that road - look for your treasures. By the end of it, you'll have a box full of shiny and rusty nuts and bolts!

I keep walking

Another day, another mile

And more.

I smile and meet someone new

At every turn

And I keep walking.

I do not shy away

From what's around the corner

I face the music

The repercussions too

And I keep walking.

I sing along

With every tread

With every hop,

Skip and Jump

I just keep walking.

I fumble and fall

At times, of course

I get laughed at

How would they let go?

Yet, I get up,

Shake it off.. and keep walking.

The Last Summer

The only reason I would manage to bear the brunt of Final Exams back in school was that I knew that the summe holidays were around the corner. I would look forward to Nimbodi, Mangoes and guava at home, the Paratha - Jam/Sauce combos for an 11 o'clock breakfast, the innumerable carrom, ludo, cards sessions with kids in the neighbourhood in the afternoons and the heated and fiery "Sitoliyan", Cricket, Badminton and "Gadha Maar" in the evenings. Summers was a time to read good books, learn different arts and spend hours on the bicycle and in the locality swimming pool. I couldn't care less about how much I was tanning or where my hair was going. Those were the days of abandon.

As I grew up, the concept of a vacation changed drastically. A two week sabbatical is now a long vacation. Curling up with a book and coffee is all one needs. Partying at night thrown in makes my life happening. Shopping more of a chore for me, so that's off the list.

Graduating out of B-school in March brought in a pleasant surprise of 2 months for me before I started work. Time was the gift I got. The time that I would never get again - lazying around at home, catching up with school friends - dinners at the usual restaurants, late nights at Sarafa and Johnny Hot Dogs with Maaza, spending productive time in the kitchen, pretending to be useful at home and fighting with my parents over mundane things - just for the heck of it. I even ended up playing Nursery Rhymes on my guitar for toddlers at a friend's playschool :) These two months have been a blessing - a reward for staying away for so long. I got to spend time in the beautiful house my father created for us - the cosy nooks and crannies in my sunshine flooded room - the new house that we call home.

I don't know for sure when I will get to go back and do all of this ever again. But I'm glad that I made the most of it now and I'm thankful for this Indori Summer.