imbroglio

Phew!

2011-12-20T11:37:00.003+05:30

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

2011-07-09T09:24:00.001+05:30

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

2011-06-25T19:14:00.000+05:30

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.

Breeding Perfection, eh?

2011-04-10T22:37:00.000+05:30

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

2011-03-30T10:54:00.000+05:30

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

2011-03-14T12:39:00.003+05:30

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

2011-02-11T17:29:00.002+05:30

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!

2010-12-03T18:51:00.002+05:30

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..

2010-11-16T14:08:00.002+05:30

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..

2010-09-23T21:02:00.004+05:30

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

2010-08-14T17:37:00.004+05:30

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

2010-07-26T14:16:00.002+05:30

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

2010-07-22T00:27:00.002+05:30

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!

2010-07-15T01:22:00.003+05:30

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

2010-06-15T10:38:00.003+05:30

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.

Political Incorrection

2010-05-21T12:00:00.001+05:30

Everyone has had their share of cringy moments. Even if it is the US Chief of Protocol. How ironical is this - The Chief of Protocol slipping in front of the First Families of the US AND Mexico as she took a tentative step to welcome the latter. But then, she is after all a woman with slender black legs balancing herself on an impossible pair of shoes. Then why the hue and cry about the mishap. Well, coz we are all insecure. We are too scared of our own slips and misses that we nab every chance we get to ridicule the others. Coz the day we slip, they would definitely jeer at us.

The series of faux pas for me has been exceptionally elaborate. I have suffered from Foot in Mouth Disease ever since I remember. I have always been butter fingered. I have managed to drop glassware only when the most revered guest is gracing us with his presence. I have managed to spill food only when I’m supposed to be graceful. I have managed to enter a room without knocking the door only when I was supposed to keep away. I have had fits of blabbering only when I was expected to be quiet and impressive. I’ve been there, done that and I know how it is to think about something in the past, knit your eyebrows, gulp it down and get a weird feeling in your tummy.

But then you think to yourself, I bet everyone has their share of ‘faux pas’. Everyone regrets what they once said or did. At least you hope they did. Coz that makes you feel less stupid.

And what is life if you’re too cautious, if you’re too scared to live it out.. if you’re too scared to try going the extra mile.. Coz, if you calculate and weigh every moment.. the moment has already passed you by…

Shoed In

2010-04-29T09:48:00.004+05:30

I am really not a good shopper. I don't have the patience to try on ten different things and then shortlist them or browse every shop in a mall before deciding what to buy. I'm one of those people who would just roam around aimlessly in the aisles and if my eyes fall upon something I like, I would pick it up. As simple as that. Also, I cannot shop for more than 2 hours. After a while I either get bored or tired or hungry, whichever sooner. But some of my friends have amazing stamina and a huge appetite for shopping. Of course a huge wallet along with that is a given. They hit the mall and shop as if they're on a mission to save the world. They start with one store, comb it down till they are satisfied and then move to the next display. They leave their house with a mental check list of sorts. They always know what exactly they want and seem to find everything all the time. I have found myself having a vague idea of what I'd like in my wardrobe next. Something as uncomplicated as a "white shirt" or "a pair of jeans". But these mall 'chicks' of prey know exactly what they're looking for - "a sequined black tank top to go with my blue skirt". What's incredible is that they find that tank top. And along with that, they buy 3 more shirts, 2 pairs of jeans that seem to be 'essentials', 3 pairs of shoes 'cause i just ADORE them!!' and earrings - that the shop assistant 'just threw in'.

I love this shopping pattern but one thing is still hard to digest. Why do they buy those 3 pairs of shoes? In their rooms I notice that there is a special place for the 50 pairs of shoes that they already own and we're still counting. They don't wear them down. They always have at least 4 pairs that can go with their outfit at a time. So why do women have this 'fetish' of owning bags, shoes, watches, belts, bangles and earrings?? Well, I have a nasty, yet simple theory behind that. And here it goes.

Clothes can go out of style. You can outgrow a pair of jeans. You may not be able to get into that LBD anymore. You may have tanned little too much to carry off a certain colour. But no matter what your weight or waistline, you can always wear those pretty shoes and strut around feeling special. You can always carry that zany tote that you picked up at some season sale and still be "en vogue". It's best to collect items and accessories that transcend boundaries built by age, weight, colour and 'fashion' as labelled by the Elle's and the Vogue's of the world that could write off the brand new pair of skinny jeans I bought weeks ago.

Thus, follow the smart ones people - the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Carrie in SATC and many many more. Invest in shoes, bags, belts and more. Because you will never grow out of them. The more the merrier. Coz I get to borrow them - a size 6 anyone???

The power to be heard

2010-04-02T11:28:00.002+05:30

We always have so much to say but think it's futile coz we know that we won't be heard. What's the point of crying yourself hoarse when there's no one listening to you. Why make a point when it won't be appreciated. But then, what if, one fine day, you get that audience, the spotlight that you need - what point will you make then?

Amitabh Bachchan has enjoyed the spotlight for so many decades now. He and his family are always making front page news regardless of the significance of the issue. He blogs everyday. And every post of his enjoys atleast 200 comments. We can only imagine how many people follow him - coz most readers don't comment. And all these people are his die-hard fans - who hang on to every word that he writes (does he write everyday or has he hired someone to do it?) He is well read man. He can motivate, orient and raise awareness about so may pertinent issues.

Anyway, if by some stroke of luck, if I ever get the platform to be heard - what opinion would I voice? Would it be petty scoops about my son and daughter-in-law, or subliminal marketing of my movies and products that I endorse? Or would it be something bigger, something that concerns everybody, something more profound and something that enlightens, inspires and gets the people who follow my thoughts to pause and ponder on issues that really matter? Would I be too pre-occcupied by myself and my PR that I forget that the power to be heard is rare and must be used prudently? Would I spread hope and positivity or delve over controversies and create a negative influence with my words? Would I praise the goodness around me or malign the wrong deeds?

So if your voice reaches millions - use it for the greater good. Not to demand apologies and justifiy your deeds. It's not a confession box!

Step Up!

2010-03-27T17:10:00.003+05:30

Life is so ephemeral. Yet we waste hours of the day planning, scheming, holding back and shying away. We put things off for some other day. We postpone calling the long lost friend. We ignore the small voice that asks us to say sorry to the people we've wronged. We cross people around us only to regret it when it's too late - too late to mend things, only to live with the guilt forever. We don't go that extra mile to tell our family how much we love them and care for them only to end up alone one day.

We take up the important business opportunity and leave our parents only to come back only when they're not in good shape. We laze around in calling people up, in mailing them a simple "Hi! How are you?". We don't mind losing touch with people who don't matter anymore but will, some day. We leave loose threads while we spin the webs of our lives and we end up with broken stories.

So finish your stories today. Make that call. Write to your friend. Say sorry. Go the extra mile. Go home and spend time with family. Coz Time doesn't wait for you to finish your stories. Make sure that if you don't have to loom around thanks to some unfinished business.

"Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours..."

2010-03-18T00:43:00.003+05:30

Beethoven wrote this for his love in a letter some centuries ago. The word 'ever' is used so liberally and confidently by these people. A 'Happily ever after' and 'forever and ever' are words we seldom use. Or at least quite scared of. We are more of the ephemeral sorts. We like to keep things for now. For today. We don't plan ahead. Our minds are fickle. We don't know what we'd want two years from now and hence, we expect the same from others around us. Since we are so unsure of ourselves, we tend to be unsure of others. Words like 'till death do us apart' are now nice in chick flicks where the girl always gets her dream guy and her perfect dream wedding in her perfect wedding dress. The end of the movie makes you believe that she's gonna have the perfect marriage and the perfect kids with the perfect life. Just because she looked gorgeous on her wedding day. But the cynic in me now knows that a 'happily ever after' isn't for everyone. I mean, I don't want to negate any possibility. Some part of me still wants that fairy tale to realize. But just so if it doesn't, I want to take the safe shelter of being a 'grown up' and never having to be ashamed of living in my dreams.

The ads, sitcoms, videos and movies propagate the concept of 'there's no tomorrow'. Whether it's Barney in HIMYIM or the people on Emotional Atyachaar or even the protagonists of a Fast Track ad, everyone believes in instant gratification. And then I saw Veer Zaara yet again - a movie oozing with selfless love - overflowing with romance in every scene, that left me bewildered and conflicted in more ways than one.

So where are we headed? Can true love exist in the age of instant coffee and instant protection? Or is it just something we like to read about and watch? Does a couple always have to break up the moment one moves out of town? Or can love transcend boundaries, communities and more? Can love stand up for itself or do we ignore it just because it's too cumbersome? In all these questions we all want to ask ourselves - are we strong enough to love, and be loved? Not the convenient kind, but the one that demands more - much more.

In the meanwhile we can enjoy Barney's escapades, Samantha's whims and be smug in the misery (or is it?) of people who put their loved ones to the loyalty test because they don't trust them and then wail and whine the moment the 'suspect' gets cozy with a complete stranger in this sex,attention and drama starved nation.

Let's play Doctor

2010-02-20T20:58:00.007+05:30

A friend (for more on him, refer his blog) pointed out that if you listen to me yap for an hour, you will hear at least one reference to medical science. That's when the glass broke. I realised it's true. But I really can't help it. I have grown up hearing passively conversations revolving around Medicine. My Pathologist father would discuss all sorts of tissues with my mom - carcinomas, malignancy, benign, CA - these were terms that we are used to and are quite indifferent to at home. My Anesthetist mother would tell him in return about her surgeries all day - hypertensive patient, obese, difficult to intubate. So, every evening we have had our dose of medicine. We are even used to my father explaining to the physician on the phone as they discuss a patient, the consistency of the tissue - he always compares it to food - curd like consistency, ghee like appearance, mango colour. We never found it gross although we complain about it endlessly. We are at home with this jargon.

As a kid, I would sit in my dad's chair in his lab and see myself there 20 years down the line. In my heart of hearts, I guess I wanted to be Dr. Apoorva Raje. The perks of belonging to a doctor family were taken for granted by us. Whenever we would fall sick, we would get VIP treatment. Of course the downside for having a Pathologist at home is that he takes your blood sample every single time you have fever. But some part of me always liked all the paraphernalia. Especially the little blue gadget that pricks the tip of your finger to test your sugar. My dad's briefcase is one of the most sacred things at home. It has a special place in the house. It is what we carry as we see him off every morning and run to collect as we hear his car park at the gate every evening. It has always had the same arrangement of all basic instruments.. a box for slides, cuvettes, syringes neatly lined up, flaps for cheques, a diary, two pens and a pencil. But my favourite item in this cornucopia is the spirit swab. I still steal a bit to remove my nail enamel even though it makes my nails brittle and is less effective than my nail paint remover.

Whether it was circumstances, or practical choices or objective ruling out, but I ended up being an Engineer, and now an MBA. Not that I have any regrets, but I guess the kid still wants to have some association with Medicine. I guess that's why I gloat with my half-ass understanding of medical terms, the 'Compounder' in me always has some advice to give my friends when they fall sick, I always have a ready supply of basic medicines with me whether I'm travelling or not and yes, anything related remotely to the profession engrosses me.

So the next time I rant out that I'm "Hypoglycemic", it just means I'm hungry, or if I call someone "alopecic" it means that that someone is bald. Kindly ignore. I'm not trying to show off, I'm just talking like they talk at home :)

Dreaded Feb

2010-02-12T23:28:00.004+05:30

It started off with a small spark somewhere. They must've just thought of it as a brand new line extension. It worked for them. But it also led to increased suicide rates at this time of the year. A decade ago, no one knew about the dire necessity to go to a shop flooding with trinkets, teddy bears, giant tigers, cute pandas stuffed scarily, cards for every occasion from constipation to diarrhea, and buying some useless 'item' worth 10 bucks for 80 and doling it out for someone special as they call it, with more sap drooling from the corners of their mouths. But now it's quite ubiquitous. Rather, it's more like a ritual. Now it's tradition. It's as historical as Christmas.

Well, historical it certainly is. When I was a teenager and this fad was just kicking in, an elite group of the erudite were bestowing us with their presence at home for dinner. They laughed about it and told us the real story of St. Valentine. (I'm not gonna tell you, research on your own - Wiki/Google). It had nothing to do with what it has been made to mean today by the gift shops and the greeting card companies. But little did they know, that the bug was for the masses. The bug to feel wanted, to feel special, to feel worth spending money for.

So now that almost everyone except the fanatics and the extremists have warmed up to the idea, it is high time we acknowledge it whether we like it or not. It's not just cynics who happen to be single at this fateful time of the year criticize the concept. Even when one is in a relationship, it's more of an obligation to 'show' your LOWE. Some times, you may even think that it's just another day and not do anything at all just so you are the cooler lot and above the 'lame' crowd. Face it, you just wanna save money :).

The tumour's getting bigger though and pressing on the optic nerve. It has stretched to a week now, with Rose Day and Propose Day and Sneeze Day and what not. I mean, get a life people. Only because you get spam from a multi-million dollar greeting/gift churning company compelling you to do something on that 'day' else all hell breaks loose on you, you don't have to comply.

It's a good industry though. Flowers, roses to be precise, sold at double the usual price, cards, teddy bears, goldfish, pets, diamond jewellry, watches, movie tickets, dinners at restaurants, parties and bashes, hotels and B&Bs, resorts, spas.. are all milking out of this one notion. The notion of being with someone.

What's on YOUR mind????

2010-01-23T12:03:00.003+05:30

These social networking sites always ask you what's on your mind. They want you to tell the world how you're feeling at all times. Better still, they want to add that spice in your friends' lives - whenever they log in, they get to know, who's being dumped, who's chasing who, who is elated at some mundane event in his life that doesn't matter to the rest of the world, but now, it suddenly makes all the difference.

We all use those spaces to speak our mind. Observing and participating myself in these trivialities, i have drawn a few mental patterns about this queer activity. Let's see if I can map all the categories successfully:-

1. The Currents: They post links to their favourite game that happened recently, or some speech delivered by some controversial public figure. They like to keep themselves updated and want to enlighten everyone around them. Fake Alert: Watch out for the show offs who merely wanna let everyone know what they've been reading and how vigilant they are.

2. The Weepers: They are always whining about their lives. They won't tell their best friend what's eating them but they are okay with letting the whole world know how deep they are. My full sympathies go out to these 'piners'. Nothing wrong with being honest about what's on your mind, as long as it doesn't trouble people who look out for you. Keep them in the loop. Otherwise, you are actually providing the rest of the people who don't care and who don't matter with something to look forward to and laugh about every single day. So keep going. If you collate all your status messages you could create a best-selling journal or even, a hit movie that belongs to parallel cinema.

3. The Warm-Fussies: These are the lucky few who live in Mush Land. They don't care about what their image would be in their acquaintance circle. They pour out all their sap online. They think that the only person reading their updates is their ONE. But sadly, the whole world is exposed to the turns your love life is taking. And I speak for all of them when I say - Spare us the sugar, honey!

4. The Salesmen: This is essentially a male trait. They will give their current location and phone number along with their social security number, their address. They expect that the whole world should know their whereabouts just like we know Obama's. "Boston, this is The White House. The Eagle has landed. I repeat. The Eagle has landed." Dude! No one is going to call you. Give it up. Take your phone number off your status.

5. The Pseudo-Gloats: Their status messages always involve a piece of trivium that is totally irrelevant but is always true. It is twisted in such a way that it sounds as if the gloat is merely stating a fact, but is a self-praise in disguise. It creates an awe in the readers' minds about the gloat. But sadly, the awe is ephemeral. It's more like 'shucks and awwwwwwwwww'.

6. The Quoters: They are the most jobless people in the world. I know of people who actually spend half an hour every week digging out funny, profound or just plain weird quotes from books and the internet to post them on their profiles. They obviously expect their friends to comment on these unoriginal and banal notions. I am completely okay with the quotes, people, but the constant persuasion to comment on these impersonal messages is further adding to the under-productivity and inefficiency in this world. If you revel in your joblessness, you shouldn't need company out there now, shouldn't you?!

7. The Cubby-Holers: They are under this misconception that all their acquaintances know their current friend circle inside out. Their status messages include recent developments in their and their friends' lives without any reference to context mentioned alongside. Sometimes, this may lead to very strange inferences and yes, a stain on your reputation. So beware!

8. The Altos: They will always harp on the song they are listening to or the current favourite. Some post their entire playlists. Others merely pick up on a cool rock number and show off with it. The song usually means something - I guess, their current state of mind. But who cares. All this does is gets that particular song on the readers' minds too. If they don't like it, a choice of abuses is slewn at you via the telepathy route. Even if they like it, you don't earn any brownie points, they will still think you are showing off.

9. The Spectators: They are a few who merely watch the other eight prance about every day with a new state of mind. It's fun to do so. It's like a daily soap everyone is hooked on. So bring on the masala! No one seems to mind.

I am not saying anything is right or wrong. I am not even stereotyping anything or anybody. I am sure you have tried to find your best fit in the above few slots. I am also sure you are being judgmental about how judgmental I am :). My friends know I am the last one to be judgmental. Trust me, these are honest observations based on the many many friends I am blessed with. I am also quite confident that many will find more than one match for themselves. I certainly believe that when blogs came into existence, half the web was highly skeptical about them - about the power of expression a blog gives - about the freedom of thought and how it could affect the masses - about opinions - millions of them, being read, rebuked and appreciated. How about this now - whether it is Twitter, Gtalk, Facebook or Orkut, I can post my thoughts, my views, my opinions by the minute. A blog is still a well contemplated journal, but random thoughts are more potent, more personal, more impulsive. What do you do about these fast flying emotions that reach out to everyone around like plague?

Lalit Chacha

2010-01-08T23:08:00.003+05:30

He used to come to our house at 11 30 in the night after my parents would've slept off. He would throw stones on the metal name plate outside to wake them up. These days he calls at 7 in the evening and lands at around 10. This is a huge improvement.

He is one of my father's best friends from medical school. He was his junior. But now he is family. And he's always been Chacha for me.

He has come a long way. As a young boy, he used to sell newspapers. One day, he was teeming with a happy secret and was bubbling to share it with someone. He told one man as he sold him a paper, "Iss mein mera naam hai.." The man shirked him off. That day, the paper contained the PMT results. He had made it.

In medical college, he was in NCC with my dad. They went on this trip to Amarkantak which was headed by my dad. At one station, my dad asked him to pack breakfast for the whole group. Lalit Chacha gladly got off on the station. There was no sight of him for a good twenty minutes. The train started to leave the station. One of the cadets went to another coach and pulled the chain. After 10 more minutes, they saw Chacha bringing in one large fruit basket full of Aloo Puri. He got an earful from my dad, but also added to his long list of interesting stories to tell.

He decided to take his bicycle out for a ride. For a long ride. So he set off. He set out for an All India trip. He travelled from city to city. He used to go to every police station and get them to sign his little book. He used to eat once daily - at night. And he used to drink milk.

He got into government service. He was posted at Omkareshwar. For the uninitiated, Omkareshwar is at the banks of a winding Narmada. A beautiful temple, a dainty bridge and the placid, meandering Narmada. Lalit Chacha used to go on frequent swims into the river. One fine day, he got inside and thought to himself, "How long can one stay in water" So he decided to check. he kept swimming. People started noticing. Some acquaintances were concerned. They said, "Daaksaab, ab bahut ho gaya.. chaliye" Lalit Chacha asked them to go fly a kite. After a while, a reporter from somewhere came along on a boat and asked him, "Aap jo yeh kar rahein hain, aap kis maksad se kar rahein hain.. aap kya message dena chahenge bharat ke naujawano ko?" Chacha asked him to row a boat. Figuratively. After a while, Chacha heard some band playing on the banks. Someone came to him again and said, "Daaksaab, ab chaliye, 12 ghante ho gayein hain.. yeh band aap ke liye baj raha hai" He was dragged out. They didn't let him wear his clothes. They carried out a procession to his house, playing "Yeh desh hai veer jawano ka" on the way. For months later on, his skin peeled off like that of a boiled potato.

Today, he is one of the Padma Shree hopefuls in the country. He pioneered Family Planning Operations in villages all over Madhya Pradesh. He conducts camps in one village or the other almost every day. He gets some sleep in his rickety jeep on the way. He reaches the camp where some 500 people are already in queue, waiting for "Doorbeen Wale Baba". That's the rural name for a Laparoscope, with which he carries out his surgeries in less than a minute each. These surgeries are performed usually in community halls with makeshift OTs. Painless, foolproof surgeries that end only with a convenient band-aid. It's a revolutionary concept. It's a mundane area that he has turned around into a strong tool for woman empowerment, familly welfare and overall economic development.

He is used to the numerous felicitations. But he is as grounded as he was thirty years ago. He is humble, simple and lovable. He is a confused father to two lovely girls. He seeks my father's help in understanding them. My dad uses his experience with me to advise him. I don't think it helps much. He is one of those people in my life, who I will always look up to. If today I am proud to be a frank, straight forward person who can easily demarcate right from wrong, it is due to Chacha's presence in my life. So here's to you Lalit Chacha, Cheers!!

I am an Idiot :)

2010-01-02T10:50:00.000+05:30

I didn’t know anything about the movie. I hadn’t seen any trailers. I hadn’t even heard the music. And thank heavens for that. Because I guess I wouldn’t have been as moved as I was when I watched the movie.

In my previous blogs, I have mentioned how much I detest the Education System of India. Some of my career plans surround this very notion. I am just more than glad that someone thought of bringing this up and that too, so powerfully. Yet, they didn’t make it offensive. They didn’t blame anyone.

The movie begins with an innocuous Madhavan in the seat of a flight about to take off. You think to yourself that he will be the bystander in the movie. Till you see him stop the plane by faking a medical emergency. For those who haven’t watched the movie, this is the last bit I am divulging. There won’t be any more spoilers.

The movie shows how things are. You are smug when you see all the intricacies of typical college life. The ragging sessions, the daaru sessions on the remote Tanki, the nerds who are always royally jacked, the dreamers who sit at the balcony strumming their guitar and the profs who carry the names bestowed upon them by the students and attempt to get every quirky student in line.

The movie carries with it an energy that is so contagious, you don’t stop smiling. You are on a roller coaster ride, shocked one moment, in splits the next, crying the other and laughing again at the hopelessness of it all. The guys are awesome. I saw myself in the movie at so many points. I saw my friends in many scenes. I saw my parents, my siblings, my teachers, and even Millimetre reminded me of the Chhotus that have in some way touched my life as a student.

The climax makes you wonder whether they’ve gone overboard. But it all fits in the end.

Amir is adorable as a 19 year old. The way he walks, the way he scratches his head, the way he says to himself, “Aal eez well” and the innocent yet intelligent sparkle in his eyes passes him off as a teenager in Engineer college brilliantly.

I am watching the movie again. J J

PS: Am posting this after I saw the movie again last night. You can see only a glimpse here and there of Five Point Someone. So I'd like to ask Mr. Bhagat to step back and not try to milk any attention out of the accolades the movie is receiving. The script doesn't belong to him. Neither does the limelight.

JUNE BUG

2009-12-18T22:54:00.001+05:30

So as promised.. here's my take on Juno.

A friend made me watch it while I was at Bombay. He had already seen it but he didn't mid watching it again with me. That itself raised my expectations because this guy is very finicky about movies. Anyway, so we go to Marine Drive and buy tickets that could've bought us amazing lunch and jeer at the shallow yuppies driving in with 'panache' as they call it - the beach blonde overdressed-for-a-matinée socialite waiting for her guy to get out of the car and open the door for her. Then we kill some more time on the heavily shot, screened, referred to and cliched marine drive curb in the Bombay afternoon sun. Soon it is time for the movie and we walk in.

I am smug as soon as the titles begin with that song. I know I'm in for a quirky ride. Every dialogue - so matter of fact, so in your face, doubled up with another one soon after, doesn't give you much time to crack up. You are overwhelmed by how OK people are with their 'situations'. And yes, one should be that way.

Ellen Page is Coolness Personified. And I bet that if she reads this she'd say "How lame.. Jeez Poo.. " or something on those lines. I am deliberately skipping the not-so-appropriate parts of her reaction. But I'm sure you can fill the blanks.

"This is one doodle you cannot undo"

"This pink plus sign is so unholy"

"All that's missing is your bas***d"

There are the really deep ones too, but I don't wanna list them out and kill it.

The movie drifts through autumn and winter and spring. But the red and golden athletes keep running. As for those, Juno's vivid description of 'that' can screw any mind over.

The best part about the film is that none of the emotions are out there in the open, but you still get a whiff of them. No one gets cheesy. But everyone gets taken care of. The step mom stitches the special pants for Juno and hits back at the sonogram technician so hard, Juno has to say, "Jeez Brenda! Get a d***!"

And still the movie doesn't miss out on the pain, the longing and the love. Motherhood is taken seriously. And so is a teenager.

The songs are another plus. All of them are cool in their own weird way. Some of the lyrics are downright absurd, the others, just plain gross. But they blend in the movie's undercurrent so well, that you can't think of any other number that could replace them.

In the song "Anyone else but you", one of the lines go "You shook a li'l turd off the bottom of your pants"!! Yes, this is movie is not for the beach blonde who couldn't get out of her own car. It's for you and me. Watch it. Laugh. Get Disgusted. Cry. Cringe. I don't care. But if you are still un-juno-ed, you're missing something.

Joker in the Pack

2009-12-15T22:40:00.000+05:30

I read this book a year ago. It starts with the line - "Shekhar Verma has finally arrived." I now know what that means.

As per my last blog, the last week was going to determine my next five years. Hell yeah!! it did. I'm there.

I still don't want to sound high flown. I still don't know half of what's in store for me. Yet, I am smug.

The future blogs will definitely be about more generic issues. It's been long since I talked sense here.

Sneak Peak: A take on one of my frequently watched films - JUNO

Random Thoughts in Bed

2009-12-05T01:18:00.000+05:30

It's been really long since I wrote about something impersonal. The last few entries have been quite complacently about myself. And I'm afraid the blog is gradually turning into a quirky journal of sorts. But what the heck, the idea was to speak my mind. And if of late, all that's on my mind is not Hugo Chavez or Fidel Castro or Sarkozy or Ho Chi Minn, then be it. I have been so preoccupied with my life for a change, that I haven't really bothered about people who feature in my life only through Business Line or Google News or Economic Times.

I would like to go on talking about myself, but I'm wondering what. I signed in today because I didn't have anything to write about. Coz, I'm frankly quite confused. It's a funny phase. I am at a point in life that could determine the next five years. The choices I make in the next week could make up what I become within 5 years - 5 years! That's a long time. And who knows what these 5 years have in store for me. I am also at a place where I am discovering myself. I'm finally figuring out what I want from life by ticking off what I am sure I don't want. Till now, I was looking towards family and friends to guide me through these 'tough' decisions. Now, I think I'll do just fine by listening to my heart.

I can take a stand now. A stand to be on my own. I had been looking for someone to look up to. Someone I could depend on. Someone who had the upper hand. But fortunately, spine is hard to find. So I walk alone. And quite a walk it shall be.

I can now revel in the spotlight. My eyes don't cringe anymore. Two hoots!

I can stare them in the eye. Because I am not in the wrong. They are. I have the courage. They don't. I am made of stronger stuff. They may have luck and a good disguise on their side, but I have truth and integrity on mine.

People could swindle me. They could take me for a ride. People can take advantage of me. And yet, I forgive and forget. Some might call me foolish. I happen to think likewise. But I can't change that. I will not. That's what makes me what I am.

I can speak my mind. And I always will. I may regret it. But I am born to do that. Have always, will always.

I can take chances. I can be adventurous. I can stop thinking. I can do much more. And I love it!

A dash of Gold Dust and voila!

2009-11-12T11:29:00.000+05:30

Yes, I have a Fairy Godmother. I totally believe it now. I get my wishes granted. But they’re never served to me on a platter. I get what I want alright, but only in a skewed way. And she surprises me in ways I couldn’t even imagine. She’s just out there smiling wryly at me all this while – while I fret and crib and cry and have fun. She gives that knowing smile that says – “Girl, you don’t even know what’s in store for you next!” She tests me and teases me. She brings me to such crossroads just to see which turn I’d take. Just for the heck of it.

Just when I thought that there was no hope, an unexpected turn of events comes my way. And it’s all of her doing. I’m pretty sure.

So thanks to my wicked FG, I still stick by my thumb rule in life – Carpe Diem! Live the moment and enjoy the surprise around every corner. Listen to your heart and keep a healthy mind, and have absolutely no regrets. Life is to live it out and not to think about what could’ve should’ve would've happened. If you’re so curious, try it out so that you don’t have to bank on your imagination.

I'm pretty sure each one of us has their very own FG too. They're looking out alright. They laugh at us when we crib and get bored when we're high. They like to put us through ordeals, it's like a soap for them. And I'm pretty sure they conspire along with each other so that we, over here get messed up when we meet. We say things and think some more. They make us feel and expect and dream. And that's how they get a kick out of it. It's awesome!! It's a network they're rewiring all the time with our minds and hearts and we have no choice but to play along.. Uncanny!

Torn

2009-10-25T11:19:00.000+05:30

I’m torn – between being tight lipped and outspoken, between being expressive or guarded, between being calm and composed and hysterical. I wish there were a special school for Social Protocol. I really need it. I may be blessed with superficial talent, but when it comes to being a simply, happy girl who wants a cozy life, the looking glass shatters.

People I know see me as a confident, intimidating person at first. When I warm up to them, they see a fun person who has a good sense of humour and not many worries in life. When I grow closer to a further few, they see a person who has her problems, who is always there for them. But at times, they also see a person who over reacts about ‘little’ things, who is inconsiderate of others’ feelings, who is selfish, conceited and complacent. They see pride. They see a superiority complex.

I am a simple person. I take things at face value. And yes, I feel. I feel a lot for everyone around me. I am proud of this, because I know not many people genuinely feel for others. I do not manipulate. Rather, I can’t manipulate. I can’t think things through. I often forget things that people say to me or I say to people. I forget if some random person was nasty to me or made a snide remark. It’s highly possible that I go back totally oblivious of what he thinks of me and talk to him in a very jovial manner after a month or two and take him totally by surprise. I joke around a lot; at times, a little too much.

I try to be quiet. I try to be composed and not always be the wisecrack. It may be appreciated by a few people but not by a few others. So for the people who I have hurt unknowingly, I am sorry. I truly am.

I don’t judge people. I really don’t. But after a while, I know that a person is a certain way and if I think I cannot match up to that frequency, I tend to take a step back.

I am a twisted person trying really hard to become sorted out. I want someone to love me. I want a family, a home and true friends. I thank God everyday for being blessed with the family I have and with the true friends that I’ve had over the years. Success for me is to be a good person who is loved by most people. Not someone who is looked up to by people. I don’t want respect for my ability, but respect for the person I am.

I consciously work towards improving myself – towards perfection – as I see it. Perfection for me is not being able to do ten things at a time, but being able to not hurt anyone around, ever – being a good daughter, a good sister, a good friend and a loyal companion.

All I ask for is truth in return. It hurts when people around me twist things up, when they say something and mean something else, when they remember me only when they need one of my ‘talents’, when they play games. Not because I think it’s wrong, but because I can’t play along.

I have fallen - Fallen for good. I would like to rise out of the ashes. But I will need time. And during this time – I can only hope – hope for not being misunderstood, misinterpreted, ignored and used.

The worst first kiss

2009-10-19T18:07:00.000+05:30

DISCLAIMER: All observations and inferences made in the column below are purely based on secondary research – friends, friends of friends, articles in various print media and the internet. None of the opinions are in any manner sprouting from first hand experience. Please do not judge the author based on the views that follow.

So how bad can it get? Well, a lot can go wrong. The run up to a first kiss is always the highlight of a relationship. The ‘drum roll’ as one of Ted’s weird girlfriends puts it in HIMYIM is so much better than the actual kiss. When you kiss, you make it real – then it is two people in the moment. Up to this time, its in your head – so much left to the imagination. You can think beyond any limits about how it would be. But once you are lip to lip – you hit ground zero. Then you get to the ground reality of technicalities – technicalities I’m trying to pen down, that are not coming out tastefully.

The first and foremost disaster that can occur with a first kiss is if one partner’s foot doesn’t pop. ‘Foot popping’ for the uninitiated is a term used by Anne Hathaway in Princess Diaries (yes, this IS gonna be influenced a LOT by chick flicks.. bear with me). When you kiss someone, you know it’s right if your foot pops (read – when you feel weak in the knees or ur tummy turns or some circuit goes short – if you know what I mean). But what if it doesn’t work this way for the guy or the girl? You’ll be lucky if both of you are in the same place. But if only one foot pops, the same foot turns into a kick in the you-know-what.

We’re past Stage I now and it has been established that both parties want to go ahead with this fateful kiss. Now what? Well, don’t let go of your guard just as yet. Tread very cautiously. The following events can turn a ‘moment’ into a mishap:-

1. A cut lip – you thought you’d show how eager you are and well, you taste something funny. It’s your ‘LOWE’s precious blood that you’ve managed to consume – vampire style. The other party is now wary of you and is now wondering if it’s a full moon night.

2. Too much tongue – It’s not just guys who end up doing it. It could be a girl too. And, trust me. Gross is the word.

3. The suckers – In true mosquito tradition, if one party is focussed on turning a kiss into a dehydration process for the other party, well, then Help You God!!

4. A Right Angle – You’re closing in on your target and your noses bump in a head – on, sorry, nosy collision. This doesn’t mean that you guys have big noses. It just means that you have a poor sense of space or are heavily hyper-metropic. To combat this obstacle, hold your beau’s head in your hands, you buffoon!

5. Hair – A guy always likes a girl with long hair. But not if it comes in his mouth. Kisses with flowing manes all over the place look good only on the silver screen. Note: The strands are well doctored with lots of mousse. And you don’t wanna try this at home coz you don’t want his hands to run through your hair and get stuck there.

6. Bad Breath – If you didn’t get the whiff in the aforementioned drum roll, well, your bad!!!

7. Timing – Highly crucial. If you didn’t hone in on target while the bull’s eye was wide open or vice versa, it sends the wrong signals. A party may get some buffer time to:-

a. Think about what is happening and not answer this question well

b. Come into senses and stop right there

c. Have second thoughts about the ‘moment’ and now mishap.

8. Braces, Spectacles, Nose Pins/Rings, etc – Paraphernalia may well get into the way causing serious physical damage to one or more parties.

9. PDA – You thought you could get away with it, but well, you didn’t You’ve lost the moment and more alright, you probably even have some serious red-faced explaining to do.

This is not an exhaustive list. Additions and editions are welcome.

But one worst kiss still manages to beat all others hands down. A kiss that leads to one party barfing right after – yes, you guys – this is the ultimate insult for the puke inducer. But have no fear – we can still find a day job for you – you could work as a substitute for Electral, you could be appointed at the stadium where athletes puke their guts out right before a weight categorization process, you could even act as an antidote for most poison cases. So there you go!

Well, there’s one more – an arguable close second – a kiss that gives hope at one end and opens eyes at the other.

The inevitable

2009-06-28T23:00:00.000+05:30

It may stare you in the face

And you’d try to look through

But there it is all along

His will and something more

The greater book writes for you

What turns you may take

The choices are what make you

The worst and the best

Yet when fate takes her course

You would feel like going back

Begging for the right choice

Or the wrong turn

Knowing that all along

It is Inevitable.

The Dental Visit

2009-05-21T09:08:00.000+05:30

Protagonists:

Suravi Shome

Ketan Kaushish aka KT

So this time when I couldn’t put off going to the dentist any more, it turned out that I had waited a little too long and needed an immediate root canal. Suravi and Kinshu were my reinforcements that day. After the procedure, Suravi was at the edge of her seat ready to burst into the clinic and pounce upon the doc and Kinshu was the oh-so-worried dad from “Father has a rough night” pacing up and down talking to HIS mom for some reassurance.

After this ‘incident’ I decided not to make my friends undergo the terrible torture of a visit to the dentist and hence, go alone. Even then, Suravi insisted to come along. She had been really busy lately and I really didn’t want to make her lose out on more precious time, but the thought of the fights and frowns afterwards about how I ignore her or don’t let her come along made me think otherwise. Plus, I thought, it would be a sort of pathetic break for the overloaded placecommer. So KT, Suravi and I set off for the clinic. KT gave us a ride since he stays virtually next door to the dentist. Now at KT’s place I cleverly made Suravi stay with him and walked down to the clinic for the next set of painful procedures. It was much better than she squirming in the waiting room, God bless her soul.

The noisy construction work in my bucket cavity took a good one hour. I walked out of the office feeling guilty about wasting Suravi’s and KT’s time. I called her up and asked her to come down so that we could grab an auto. She said, “Why don’t you come upstairs for a bit”. I figured it would be rude to just go without meeting KT’s mom. So I went upstairs and rang the doorbell. Aunty opened the door and led me in. I turned into the drawing room to find no one. Aunty told me that they were in KT’s room. I walked in to greet my dear old friends who always watch out for me and tell them that all went well, when my jaw dropped. Both of them were sprawled on separate twirling chairs with their mouths half open, staring into the TV playing, wait for it, a video game. It was one of those one-on-one fighting games where you mindlessly press all keys and laugh like retards. Dragon-Ball Z was it? I’m not sure. It was the same game my brother used to play when he was 13, though. So when they finally noticed that someone had walked into the room, they said a quick high and went back to beating each others’ asses and pointing and laughing. They had great strategies in mind – from which player to pick, to which scene to choose. As if it mattered.

After I while I mentioned, “By the way, I’m ok”. And then came another brilliant ideas in their underprivileged minds – “Appu, you should play!” I politely declined. After their much coaxing, I said, “As tempted as I am, I choose not to deteriorate my grey matter with this - thing” So they resigned to calling each other more names.

Then a thought occurred to me – Suravi was supposed to go back and finish up the tomes of pending work. And I felt it was my duty to remind her of it. So, the good friend that I am, I did. And was I in for some serious brickbats. So I succumbed to just watching two 25+ professionals belonging to a post graduate programme in business hit each other aimlessly on the screen with a Zombie look on their faces.

After they were done with the series of One-last-game’s Aunty laid out the most delectable Idlis on the table which I just couldn’t refuse. They were so good that afterwards I forgot to give Suravi a piece of my mind. What the heck – after all, one shouldn’t be harsh on juvenile delinquents.

2009-04-29T10:20:00.000+05:30

I'm singing. I sing when I'm waiting for a cab. I sing when I'm walking through the market. I sing till I realise that I am not alone and then look around to check if anyone's staring at me. But it doesn't stop there. I'm singing in my head. All the time. Ever since I can remember. I guess we all are. It wouldn't be A song. It needn't have words. But it's music alright. And my guitar gives me the strength to bring it out. But only when I'm alone for now. I always found the task very intimidating of 'making' one's own music. But then you realise, that you had it in you, all along.

I remember hesitating as I would traverse the strict notes of Hindustani music in front of my Guru in her sweltering second floor music room where I used to ride down every second day on my little red bicycle. As a little girl, I got my aunt's harmonium as a legacy. I would love to figure out the notes of songs I knew on my own. My mom thought it was quite a feat. But I feel that if you can hum it, you can play it. And then, when I grew up she would leave the ball in my court. She wouldn't ask me to write down the alaap and taan but make it own my own. Scared of going off key, I would keep it simple and never take chances.

But I've discovered that taking chances with music is fun. Firstly you are alone. So you can listen to yourself. Then there's the freedom of modern music that doesn't bind you like the raaga does. Of course the raaga keeps you disciplined, but when you have the guitar chords under your finger tips, you feel a little more confident, as if you are 'holding' the music - quite literally.

I hope I can keep this up. If at all I ever have to give up my day job.

Obsession Part II

2009-04-27T20:46:00.000+05:30

How I met your mother Season 4, Episode 4. Ted is about to get married to Stella and he’s shuttling all the time between New York and New Jersey to make time with friends, work on one hand and soon-to-be-family on the other. Stella assumes that Ted would move to New Jersey after they are married and this comes as a shock to Ted. He finds life out of New York pretty hard to imagine. Even so, he decides to move and almost packs. But at the last moment all the memories attached to the apartment come rushing to him and he decides to stay put. That’s how strong one can get attached to things.

Someone told me once that it is unhealthy to get attached to things, people so soon. I end up hurting myself in the process. It’s true, I get attached to leave alone, people, but silly objects to extreme proportions. My grandparents had what we would call a ‘varda’. It would lie in the corner of our old kitchen and Amma would store milk, etc in it. It had a neat net on its door, and they used this big nail to lock the door. I don’t remember what colour it used to be before my dad got it painted white when the house was renovated, but it used to be some ruddy old colour. IT had this amazing rustic look to it and I always treated it as a legacy from my grandma’s household days when they used to move every two years with Aaba’s job. I always assumed that the varda would always remain an integral part of our kitchen – and my kitchen later on. But they gave it away to someone and I was quite appalled. The same happened with the small cupboard where Aaba used to keep his Harde and Mulethi for me. He also used to have those Seven Seas tablets in there, which I’ve burst open many times. They gave that cupboard away too. I couldn’t say a thing.

While in engineering, a friend and I were crazy about Perk. He like it because it was endorsed by Preity Zinta, and I, because, it was a thing we could do. So we used to buy one double Perk every night and eat it, one half each. I ended up saving every wrapper, just for the sake of it, like I would save every other thing – bus tickets, movie tickets, train tickets, etc. I kept them till the end of college, of course when it was time to pack and wind up everything at Bangalore, I had to let go of them. But it’s not like they weren’t put to good use. On his birthday, I gave him Preity ZInta posters and inside them, I stuffed as many wrappers as I could manage. It just made for a memorable moment.

My books, my pen, my guitar, that old shirt that’s always been in my wardrobe, a note someone wrote for me, a letter i got like 10 years ago, a card saved from my 13th birthday – everything makes me eccentric and I am not very proud of it.

But this is what makes me ‘me’. Had I not been like this, I probably would never have made such amazing friends, or cherished fond memories of people and things alike. Of course I do end up making a fool of myself, more often than not. But I guess it comes with the package. So be it.

Of Tears and Green Dogs

2009-03-14T12:48:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I realized that one ends up taking so much for granted without once thinking about the fact that someone sitting right next to you is deprived of the very thing that you so easily presume. The movie I saw yesterday was as mundane as it could possibly be. But it got to me. Life is not a movie. It never was.

When I was little, I was made to believe that I am a princess cut out for all the goodies life brings. But when some sense got to me at 16, I realized that I am just another girl who is going to have her share of ups and downs, of bad hair days, of good friends and nasty peers, of hostile mirrors and clothes that don’t fit, of failures and more. My father wrote to me a letter on my birthday that very year that talked about life, what lies ahead of me and more. What is ironical is that he addressed me as ‘Doll’. Although I am not that at all, actually far from it.. words such as ‘angel’, ‘princess’ and a corny ‘Doll’ actually mean a lot to my family – coz they actually feel that way. My grandparents, my parents and even close relatives like to believe them. So living their dream has always been a compulsion for me. But it’s been tough.

As I have grown up, I have realized that there are no Sleeping Beauty dreams or Rapenzul escapes or Snow White kisses. Prince Charming is an illusion. What one ends up with are complications, regrets and cringy moments, if that’s what we can call it.

When I was a gawky teenager (well, a part of me still is), I was called Olive Oyl and Giraffe. I still am but it doesn’t bother me as it used to. Once Tyra Banks said that she used to be called Olive Oyl and I just hoped that even I would be just an ugly duckling. I don’t know now if that is really true.

Yes, there is all this and I could crib about everything under the sun. And yet there is so much that I have and that I can be proud of. I can only thank God and everyone around me for giving me all that and making me the person I am. Life is no movie. But it sure can have rave reviews. Making it count is what matters. So rating it doesn’t get you anywhere. But having some popcorn and coke sure can make it quite interesting.

Someone said to me once that if you want to know about yourself, look at your friends. The common trait among them is you. And I have always been a million dollars lucky to have amazing friends by me, God bless them all. This someone also taught me courage, an amazing outlook towards life, being nice and more. So this one’s for you… Kudos!!!

Ataxophobia

2009-01-27T23:02:00.000+05:30

[Someone pointed out that it's been quite long since I wrote verse.. so here goes.. the immature aabb still stays.. n this is as deep as it can get.. can sink no further :)]

Organized chaos surrounds me

Stretches as far as I can see

Have brought it upon myself, yes

Guess I innately prefer being in a mess..

This mess is crisp, clean and crystal clear

Irritatingly perfect - and I'm neither there nor here

As much as I try to wash off my hand

It sinks me further

As if it were quicksand...

Am I looking for a trapdoor?

With blindfold and a straitjacket, what's more

I like to be bound

By the limits of sight and sound...

A weighty problem..

2009-01-03T10:07:00.000+05:30

Bring on all the fat jokes. The signs are all there. My jeans talk. And it’s certainly not sugar coated. They talk facts. And numbers. I could evade it if I want to. But it’s staring me in the face; or rather, through that mirror. The pin of the weighing scale looms at a scary 56-57 kgs, depending on the inaccuracies of scales. My friends say that the scale must have been the one installed at the railway station. But I know they’re not.

What does this sudden sign of prosperity attribute to? The heavy, fatty food at Delhi? Well, I had the same diet at Indore. The endorphins (aka happy hormones) that I’m supposedly producing with the sadistic pleasure derived from my friends’ plight? I did that too all along. The ‘lowe’ bestowed upon me by the campus? Lesser said the better. The lack of exercise? Possibly. I guess I’m getting warmer here.

But it’s weird for someone who has always been under pressure to gain more weight by friends and family alike to suddenly jump over (sorry, no more agile, nimble jumping – make that lumber around) the fence to the other side and be the ‘butt’ (yeah yeah I know you’re smiling now) of all the fat jokes. Now whenever I eat that li’l extra, a hasty exchange of furtive glances and stares is rampant across the table. People give me that knowing smile these days as if welcoming me to a new club or fraternity so to speak. Make that fraternity on second thoughts.

I have never had anything against people who have been well endowed. In fact I have always been considerate towards them and have never cracked any of those kind of jokes. But I like it here - to be on the thinner side. To hear from everyone I know that I need to put on weight. I like protesting that I am made this way – genetics, hereditary factors, metabolism and all of that. And all this time I am constantly hoping that it is this way.

I don’t mind the extra few pounds either, if they are at the right places if you know what I mean. But if all the extra cheese, sandwiches and pizzas decide to focus on my cheeks, it’s not so fair, init? So help me God and lead me to the good life, the healthy life, the life where I can still fit into my old pair of jeans that I still have since the time I was 15 and the courage to carry off that little skirt in my closet. Because my clothes talk.

The words flow out...

2009-01-01T14:17:00.000+05:30

What is it with me these days? I know I’ve always liked prose. But I have never been “a-verse” to verse either. In fact, I discovered that I like writing only when I started writing poems – poems for people I knew – funny ones, sweet ones. In my engineering days, a poem written for the birthday boy/gal was a certainty. I could write about a teacher and have everyone in splits. They were never poetry, really. I would say that I can rhyme words. That’s it. It’s Anant who’s the poet of the family. Having tried some deep, profound stuff myself, I just realize how shallow I am. So I gradually came to my senses and stuck to the good ol’ long drawn paragraphs.

But I never thought that I would end up being so daft that I would actually avoid poetry. As I come across any piece, I start reading it with a critical eye. As one line follows another, I begin to give up – on the poet and wonder why he can’t say what he has to say straight. I have begun to have ‘standards’, which I am not very proud of. And by standards, I mean that I would like a Lewis Caroll or a nice Winnie the Pooh by Milne. P G Wodehouse can work wonders and so can Ogden Nash. But If it’s not Wordsworth or Keats or Shakespeare or Byron or Browning or Frost or Tennyson, fat chance I would finish reading it. It’s not about whether it’s an epic or a sonnet, if it doesn’t make sense in the first few lines, it won’t make sense to me at all.

Have I really become a dry person? Has education ruined my imagination or my ability to let my mind take flight? Am I not naïve enough anymore to believe? Or is it courage that I have lost? Have the numbers, facts, statistics and drab uncreative chapters killed the Peter Pan in me? Or is it my deteriorating grey cells that have made me incapable to comprehend something new? While I keep wondering about all of this, I find that I can still read. And write. What else does one need anyway.

3 down - 1 to go??

2008-11-22T21:16:00.000+05:30

Fatema's engaged!!!!!

Yay hay!!

Amu getting married was a shocker alright.. I remember not being there at her wedding and having cold feet myself while she was getting married at Meerut a few months ago. And then when I saw them at the reception at Indore, everything just fell into place. It seemed oh-so-perfect. I couldn't see anyone else readier than Rahul and Amu to be where they were. Frankly, I hadn't thought that she would be the first amongst us to be tying the knot.

And now there's Kirti. Her story is out of a book. Picture perfect. And she couldn't be more ready for this. Can't believe I missed her big day. Dying of guilt.

But we'll still be around for each other, won't we?

Yeah sure we will. We could sustain the distances, the curfews, the busy schedules, the varied lives, the different careers, the varied interests and everything else. We can surely take the new phases in our lives.

And now comes the scary part. It's me next. Well I'm sure there's a long way to go. But the thought of these girls slipping into their new roles so smoothly and efficiently just makes me all the more uncertain and jittery about it all. I'm the psychopath here, I guess.

Long story short, I love them all. And this will never cease to be.

Lansdowne

2008-10-27T20:43:00.000+05:30

It was impromptu. And that is what made it perfect. It was luxurious. And laid back. And unhurried. It couldn't have been better. It was Lansdowne - unheard of, untouched. And the best part is that it was with my firends.

We got up at an unearthly hour which is usually the time when we sleep. I had been all Monica and everyone atleast pretended to take heed and were yawning and rolling their eyes at 5 in the morning. Sadly though, Daddu, who had been assigned the only task of dealing with the cab, had failed to check the last night whether the car was there or not. And well, it wasn't. So here we were - with our back packs and water and plastic bag full of games - without a car, right outside campus waiting for a car that would never arrive. We didn't have the heart to go back because we had sensed jealous glances by a group of Mafia players as we had walked out. All Daddu could do was make call after call in vain, keep a safe distance from me and laugh at the silly jokes Suarvi and Ankur were making. Kinshu was too sleepy to react.

But as the dawn was breaking, these people could literally see why I wasn't smiling. So they went into action and another car was very efficiently arranged - by who else, but Ankur. Kinshu also contributed his able bit. Or so it seemed. Till then we had much needed coffee at Rockland and Suravi, the official photographer started clicking away to glory as if she's never getting hold of a camera ever again.

So the other car arrives - resplendent like a white steed waiting to take us flying into the hills. The driver was nonchalant. I like them that way and off we went. NOw talking about 5 management students going on a 'planned' trip, only 2 had enuf cash. The others were sitting on a cornucopia of worthless credit cards peering out of the windows in search of an operational ATM. As luck may have it or by Murphy's law, whatever you wanna call it, there was none. Our desperate eyes could but blink at the despair of not having any money and being at Lansdowne before we'd know it. This was sheep poetry.

We reached Meerut and had breakfast there. Suravi chose an apology for a Dosa and we followed suit. Daddu was finicky as usual - typical problem child and nibbled at a veg sandwich for what seemed to be an eternity. Kinshu and I fought over Sudoku. They don't understand I have OCD.

Suravi, the photographer, started clicking away again. She had begun to bug me now with all the clicking without even asking the clickee to smile or pose in a manner that hides what the clickee wants to hide. Anyways. Paparrazzi - a necessary evil.

We found our way to Kotdwar - asking people for directions, looking at road signs, following insticnts. At the same time our helpless eyes kept hunting for an ATM. Eveywhere we stopped, we found them out of order. It was as if all the green had been sucked out overnight. Finally, Bidnaur answered our prayers. And this was where Daddu wailed for some very rancid Kachoris, for which he paid heavily through his nose (literally), later :) Somewhere along the way, Kaddu even managed to buy a CD called "Latest Bollywood hits" that he failed to operate efficiently. The impatient audience didnot let him play his offering on the stubborn player. Instead, Suravi the photographer turned Suravi the DJ and it wasn't so bad after all.

We soon reached the foothills after winding through the tempting, lush green farms that Kinshu couldn't resist. He always comes up with the corniest of ideas. Well, thankfully, the driver did not pay any heed to his repeated pleas to stop the car.

As we started the climb, we were greeted by regal fir and the heady smell of the forest. It was quiet except for the occassional monkey call that Kaddu responded to promptly from his cleaner's seat. And ofcourse, there were the winding curves and the tummy churning bends. One of the road signs read "Be Gentle on Curves". Although laughable, I find perfect sense in it now. The breakfasxt at Tiffany strained to get out of my innards and well, it did. My so-called friends posed for more pictures while I barfed my lungs out. Was that the beginning of a snowfall? Coz Daddu soon followed - Kaddu slyly reminding him of the rancid, stale Kachoris that he so relished. So much for empathy.

Lo and behold - we were at Lansdowne now. It is small, pretty, clean and right out of a painting. Brightly coloured pathways, checkposts with interesting messages, Cantonment flags fluttering away in the fresh mountain winds, jawans at their starchy best and the deafening calm.

After a failed attempt at accomodation at the Tourist Lodge, we went to a place called FairyDale that Bansal, our remote guide from campus had mentioned. And this was true heaven. A cottage that could might as well belong to Three Golliwogs, climbers all over the place, towering trees all around, a large suite for peanuts - what else could one ask for. We crashed. And how :) Ofcourse, after scrumptuous lunch at a dingy hole called Tipseey's :) A few rotis downed with Avomen later, we were ready to doze off.

And doze off we did - well just Kinky n I. The others goofed around - I think they tried playing UNO and Scrabble. And soon realised it's not fun without me :D So after we woke up, we decided we would go somewhere atleast. Like sightseeing or something. Coz thats what tourists usually are supposed to do. So we go to what is called Tiffin Point or was it Tip In Point. Thats the beauty of a small one horse town like Lansdowne. The place was spelt differently everywhere I read the name. There wasn't much there, except for the view ofcourse. And some really cute tree houses lined up along the hillside. And ofcourse, there was us. All set to ruin the peace that prevailed. All the chattering, the foot fighting and the Daddu handling did attract a lot of attention. But who cares.

We decided that our next stop would be some lake I don't remember the name of coz I kept sleeping in the car. Yes, I truly was on a vacation. These people did get off and did a few things that they kept talking and laughing about. But I usually avoid blogging about 'heard of' events. So whatever transpired here is off the record.

We came back to our dainty little FairyDale Resort and goofed around some more. Come dinner time and we cllimbed down to this pretty green cottage that was aptly labelled "Mess". Hot, fluffy rotis kept pouring in while I ate and these guys kept count of how much I'm eating. I can't help it. The mountains make me hungry.

Now we decide to go for a night stroll. Daddu was in a Spooky mood. He was trying to scare us or get scared, I'm still trying to figure out. The noises he made and the grunts that came out were funny than anything else, leave alone eerie. The quiet of the forest beckoned us. Suravi kept clicking away in night mode like a mad woman. The rest of us walked in silence which was interrupted with a few poses, cows interrupting and Daddu growling some more. We lounged around sitting on the road. And Daddu pretended to be a hyperthyroid bat with wings out of my "Dying Destitute" shawl. Kinshu posed like a vain model for every picture that was taken.

We slept well, and woke up to a perfect morning. The sun in our faces, the cool breeze in and out of the woods, the trees spiralling to the skies and hot steaming chai. Well, no chai for me. But the rest of them sipped on. I preferred water. Suravi was irritating us with her camera again but thankfully so. These snaps are the best out of the lot. A hearty breakfast later, we got ready like scchool kids - the bath, et al. We didnt' feel like going back and Suravi and I kept cribbing even as we packed. Now I don't know whether it was the frustration that desperately needed to be vented out or a premeditated plan that was put to action, but I was subjected to what is best described as "Kambal Kutai" and even a video was taken with ample amount of comments thrown in. It was very much on the lines of the Iraqi prisoners of war bein taped while being tortured to death. The best part was when I rose out of the blanket, these galliant soldiers ran for their lives.

As we sobered down, we took from from Fairydale and now the next thing on our minds was a a nice walk down the river bed. So we kept looking for inlets on our way. A long fuss later, we finally managed to find the perfect spot. Now what transpired here makes for another blog entry altogether. So let's honour those events duly. So after the 'enlightening' experience in the stream, we left Lansdowne, drenched in childish glee.

Sleeping, talking, threatening Daddu with a smelly sock if he dozes off and more, we kept going down the plains. A late lunch at some open air restaurent, the same place where Suravi got her Elixir of life, we dozed off like kindergarten kids. It was a long drive back and we were in no hurry to reach. But we did. And I was glad in a way. Coz all good things come to an end. Only to start a few better others.

ROOTED!!

2008-10-10T23:56:00.000+05:30

Home is where the heart is. And my heart is stuck. For life I guess. It's not like the city is the best place to live in or anything. It's just that I can't think of any other place that I can proudly call home.

Indore is warm and cozy. It's just the right size. It's the right combination of a budding metro and a one horse town. Every place is not more than half an hour away from my house and even if one has to go to the other end of the city, one wouldn't take more than an hour.

The people make the place. I have found the warmest, friendliest, laziest and most laid back people here who believe in living life king size. The top most priority here is to eat and to make people around you do the same. And when it comes to eating, we don't know how to compromise. Dollops of ghee in sleep inducing Baati with steaming Dal, and laddoo, papad, chutney and subji to complement the ensemble is known only to the sweet smelling Malwi soil. SHikanji is not lemonade here. It is a thick creamy concoction of rabdi and milk which can put anyone to sleep for hours. It's a meal by itself. But Indoris have a huge appetite, and how!!

When it comes to sweets, there's no stopping us. People will reach Mathura Wala's at 11 in the night and eat up one sweet after another. Top n Town is always teeming with icecream fanatics. And one sundae is never sufficient to satiate us. It's as if we have a separate tummy for dessert.

Namkeens are a passing by thing. We are always hogging them. And there is a cornucopia of savouries available to the taste buds here. The variety and the range catered to is overwhelming.

Indore has evolved into a connoisseur's haven. From succulent kebabs at Kebabsville, Dum Pukht cuisine at Sanchi, grand buffet lunches at Crown Palace, Amaltas and Goefferey's, you name it, we've got it. Although the cosmopolitan culture is setting in and Pizza Hut and McDee's are favourite eat outs, the tangy chaats and the scrumptuous dishes are indispensable from the true Indori's plate. Johnny Hot Dog and Vijay Chaat House are here to stay as much as Ravi ki Kachori. The Moong Badas at LIG and the Gajak at Sheetal are phenomena in their own right.

But more than anything else, its the Indori hospitality that's unbeatable. I have travelled a lot. Nowhere have I experienced the love that is found here. And that's what makes it special to my heart.

The foot with the mole

2008-10-02T18:25:00.000+05:30

They say that if you have a mole on your foot, you are destined to travel a lot. I am glad I have one. A Chinese proverb goes that a mile travelled is worth a hundred books. Or something on the same lines. They couldn't be more right. I have always loved travelling. As a young girl, I would look forward to the summer vacation when I would go to Bombay with Ma. The warm, constant chugging of the train, the various goodies at every station and the different flavours, colours and scents of every place would be so intriguing, I would be wide eyed and sleepless all the time just so I could absorb everything. Travelling to Raipur and Bhopal were also very inviting. Changing trains and even seeing the soil change colour from black to red was one of the many things that mesmerized me.

I have hated flying. Except for the thrill of it all. Your stomach churns and your ears pop as the plane takes off. You keep yawning so that you don't turn deaf. But when you look out the window, you lose all sense of relative size. The world seems at your feet. Quite literally. Moreover, I have met some pretty interesting people in flights.

Travelling to new places is always an experience that is remarkable in its own right. Every place is unique in its own way. Meeting interesting people, different cultures, varied lifestyles is always the limelight in every trip. And every visit is a learning experience.

Treks are a different story altogether. When I am walking - wherever it may be I am only listening to myself. That is the time when I get to introspect and clear my head. Listening to the surroundings - the sounds of the forest, I am at peace with life. Also, I get to see different places the Shivaliks, the North East and even the Western Ghats are very distinct and aplenty of rich flora and fauna that is a treat to the eyes.

A train journey could also turn into something very interesting. Once gets to interact with people from different backgrounds. Conversation about anything and everything is a special characteristic of Indian Railways and is more or less like an assured gift that comes with the ticket. Food, ideas and opinions are exchanged openly. I even know a couple that met in a train and are now proud parents of a wonderful son.

One could spend hours reading about the Taj Mahal and how surreal it is in moonlight. But only when one actually goes to Agra, haggles with the cab driver, gets into the queue for the highly coveted tickets and views the symbol of love in its full glory - moonlight or without, gets a photograph clicked on that trademark bench, and has the world famous Agre ka petha while doing all of this, has one, then experienced the Taj.

Get every opportunity to travel and roam around the world. You don't know what you're missing. The world waits to be explored. And we all know about the story of the frog who refused to hop out of its pond...

2008-08-20T19:05:00.001+05:30

Our campus is set in pristine surroundings – lush greenery all around, the surreal view of the Qutub from the 6th floor and Sanjay Van right across the street. It’s a blessing to have a campus that is so close to nature – quite literally. But one should not forget that nature just doesn’t comprise of harmless plants, innocuous flowers and trees bestowing shade and serenity. A part and parcel of it all is truckloads of creepy crawlies –zooming gnats, wasps, bees and dragon flies, smartly coloured bugs and beetles, lizards, rodents, ants and many more.

They are all very friendly, I am sure they are extroverts of the first order. They don’t shy away from invading your space – be it your room, the study table, the cupboard and sometimes, even your bed. They keep making you feel like you are the intruder in their world and you don’t belong here.

The bumblebees look very pretty only in pictures in children’s books. They are actually very violent creatures and they have proved so by attacking a couple of our batchmates all of whom happen to be very peaceful people. The bees have probably got into the habit of venting their frustration of the hive on us – something we can relate to and identify with ourselves. But that does not give them an alibi to continue turning faces of innocent people into red, swollen lumps. The beehive still stands – proud and resplendent, boasting of the brave sagas of its warriors.
The wasps and beetles may not bite, but they’re harmful nonetheless. They love hanging out on your bed. And they refuse to budge. You hate to hit them with the rolled up newspaper in your hand with fear of having to wash your bed sheet again. You try to flick it and it flies back on your pillow. The only way out is to switch the light off. But lo and behold, now, since the laptop screen is the only glowing object in your room, you actually mistake your F’s for P’s considering the document you are reading is infested with the pesky fliers.

The lizards are abundant and could well form an entire battalion. They keep staring at you from dingy walls and are waiting for their next treat which is always around the corner, quite literally. The worst thing about them is that they are coloured a translucent dull grey which is almost a white, very similar to the colour of the walls of the old hostel, so sometimes you are very close to a wall without even realising that the reptile is a mere foot from you till you see those beady black eyes.

So how does one cope up with living in harmony with the ‘wildlife’ on campus? My friends have tried everything – They are immune to HIT. It’s like cigarette smoke to them. They cross Krazzy Lines as if they were hopscotch marks. Allout works only on mosquitoes. And they are not scared of stomping feet either. So how come I am still standing tall? I think it’s a God Gift. I have bitter blood. It’s not like I don’t get bitten, but TOUCHWOOD, the probability is much lower. Got bitten recently on my eyelid – Suravi says it was more like a bug – lick, whatever that means. It swelled up, looked like a nasty burn and peeled off. I just hope this was the start and the end of my encounters with the miniscule mites.

SO LONG!!

2008-08-19T03:16:00.000+05:30

They could easily call me tall. Coz I am that. But no. They are adamant when it comes to the choice of adjective. And they love to call me the long one. Seems like I am some sort of guinea pig in the current state because of a thyroid experiment gone wrong. But I can't helop it. I am long.

This accusation was first inititated by our very own James. He went, "She's so long man!!" And the rest is history. They even attributed my beating them at Table Tennis to my being excessively 'long' and not once did anyone acknowledge that I really struggle to get every point. Suravi actually says it is unfair. Well, all I have to say is that the grass is always greener.... She still does not accept the 510 pact.

So here I am. Long as a reed. I can't help it. I can get shorter or longer. So curse me as much as you can.

Cafe ou The?

2008-07-27T20:25:00.000+05:30

It's not like I've never had tea or I'm allergic to it. It's just that I'm not a tea person. Probably because it's just not my cup of, well, u know, or because I don't need it. As simple as that!! But coffee - the aroma, the satisfaction, the froth, the bitterness and the enigma to it captivates me. My preference could very well be because of the fact that coffee has many harmful effects, and tea comparatively scores way better.

So I had a rocking time in Bangalore. Tea costs more than coffee there. A buck more at CKD (Chai ki dukan) - I'll never forget that place. Coffee there used to be 4 bucks - would be bitter to the core - utterly satisfying and dehydrating. Very potent. Very toxic. Very essential. And, yes, a lot did happen over it.

But now that I'm in the capital, tea is omnipresent. Coffee is an expensive option as it is only available at Barista or Coffee Day. And considering my current financial position, I'm a hermit for the next one month. Atleast I hope I am. So now that the campus norms have made sure that we're virtually stranded in campus without any resources to have a hot cuppa and are dictated by the whims of the Mess, I have only one resort to keep awake in class - Have tea.

It's not that bad after all. It's got ginger in it. Reminds me of my office. Plus, it's a God send for my sore throat - everyone on campus doesn't know what I sound like really. Everyone thinks I have a husky voice and they like it - like Phoebe's sexy phlegm. So i'm off icecream for a week. What will power!!

So what say?? Chai ho jaye???

Expensive Feelings

2008-06-19T15:35:00.000+05:30

Ma always put us in the habit of making cards for each other. And we've always enjoyed it - writing poems for each other, drawing stuff out, getting something done. The smile one gets is worth all the effort. But there was one time when I had to go and buy a greeting card for someone. Either I didn't have the time/resources to make one, or it was meant to be a li'l not-too-personal. Whatever it was, I went to Archies', I guess for the first time. I was really small, and naive. That time I used to get 150 bucks per month for pocket money, and I used to use it well. So I had my wallet well loaded and I entered the shop full of tinkling, sparkling, enticing stuff.

I picked out the card alright and went to the counter. The old Bohra uncle at the counter packed it up and mumbled "Eighteen". I wasn't sure what I heard so I asked him, "Eighty? or Eighteen?" And he exclaimed "Eighty!! My goodness no!! Eighteen.." And then I knew that greeting cards aren't supposed to cost this much. This was I guess a decade ago.

The other day I walked into Archies' again to pick up a card for Pa for Father's Day. A decent card - Eighty bucks :) Wonder what the old uncle would've said now.

Kohima, Khonoma, 12th May, 2008

2008-05-28T15:03:00.000+05:30

We left for Kohima early as usual. The bus ride was uneventful except for the usual clothes being torn by the seats' sharp edges and people drooling on one another. We woke up when the bus halted in front of the War Memorial. I peered out to see the city of Kohima. Sleepy and reluctant, I climbed out of the bus. As I entered the site, the first thing I noticed was the very English feel to the place. The pretty roses and daisies lined up placidly in the shade of the neat rows of the trees seemed to smile at us and our ignorance. The plaques stood at corners commanding our attention. A stone path wound up to the top of the hill like a stairway to heaven.

I walked along noting the various emblems of the regiments, reading the epitaphs. Some written by parents, some by wives, others by friends. Most of the soldiers were in their early twenties. Charlie, 21, who was 'a wonderful boy, loved by all'. Leslie, 24, 'who lived to the fullest and fought his best'. A 25 year old who 'couldn't live to see his baby'.

And then it sunk. These people were my age when they died. Twenty odd years to live. That's it. Life is not made of plans and plans don't make life. Plans never work. All goes down the drain when somethings are just cut out for you. So if you plan and delay gratification, think again. You might just not be around to see those plans work out. If you're cribbing about not having the life you want, work today, better still, now, towards getting it. You've got just one chance. Use it. Forgive and forget. Live your life. Not your age.

I was so engrossed with it all that I didn't realise when Sir called out to everyone to board the bus. I didn't see the rest of them. Later they told me that I missed the regiments where there were Hindu and Muslim soldiers. I'm glad I missed it coz they were even younger.

We went to the museum where there were many interesting things to see. The colours, the jewels, the tools. Fascinating how one small state can have 9 different tribes and all 9 of them, although so close to one another, so varied and different from the others. Many worlds in one.

Next we went to Khonoma. A clean village. Utopian in the true sense. Would love to go and live there, probably take up a teaching job. Everything was so systematic - dust bins at every corner, solar panels, and at the same time tradition upheld - dorms for boys til they reach puberty, traditional pillars as a sign of prosperity if one gives something to the village. We even met a basket weaver who had won the President's award. People found a huge rifle that's carried by 3 people. Many posed with it. I played the dutiful photographer.

We returned to Kohima to the SP's residence where he hosted a royal lunch for us. The setting was perfect. I felt like a delegate at some fancy symposium. After lunch, we hung out at the gardens with a misty view of the city. Empty minds - you-know-who's workshops. The Crusades began - Aditi, Swedyl, the other girls and me on one side while Anish, Dhiren, Mihir (the traitor), Glen, Mini and Lyandra on the other. Priyanjali was the self proclaimed Commander-in-Chief who got whacked too. Akul was the paparazzi who couldn't escape the thrashing either. He even sacrificed his chappals to the noble cause. Sanjay palyed the grandfather till he was threatened. We're still trying to figure out what the cause was though. Can't believe I got dragged into those murky waters.

In the evening we met the Founder of The Naga Mothers Association, Padmashree Angami. It was nice to listen to her, except that I dozed off for a few minutes. The SP had been Sir's student and I saw a picture of him at Indore where he was a student at the Central Instt of Warfare and Tactics. It's a small world.

This was officially the last session and the end seemed closer. Much closer.

Way to Dimapur, 11th May, 2008

2008-05-28T14:44:00.000+05:30

We set off from Nameri for Dimapur, Nagaland . We went through Kaziranga, where we spotted a few rhinos. We stopped at a place for chai, which was close to a cattle market. Areen made us rush over there saying that there was a bull fight happening. Anish bought that and we went there only to see two buffaloes in the water slapping each other with their tails. That was all the action there was. Swedyl and Mihir actually went in there and even bargained for a cow being sold for 15 grand.

We moved on, singing more songs, dedicating many more 'Dhinchaks' to a place called Nath where we had Thali for lunch. By afternoon we reached Dimapur.

In the evening, we walked to the ruins of the Kachari tribe. We saw humongous pawns that the kings used to play a chess-like game with. There were pitiable remains of what would have been a grand fort. All in all there was nothing much to see. It pained me because this is the case everywhere you go in the country. We can only boast of the 'rich and varied' culture/heritage, but all evidence is slowly withering away and soon, we won't have anything to show our grandchildren.

After dinner, we played some more UNO and DRAW 4. Swedyl, Mihir and I went to the jinxed room, where bottles kept falling, glass kept breaking, liquid kept spilling and bags kept stinking. It's a long story and some people I know what I'm talking about. Others don't need to know.

When I went to bed, I realised that the trip was ending.

Nameri, 10th May 2008

2008-05-22T15:41:00.000+05:30

We woke up at 5 in the morning to the sound of rain. There was no sight of the sun and for a moment it felt like there wouldn’t be forest walk after all. To some it was a relief because, let’s face it, the last few days had been really tiring. We reported at the restaurant in our rain wear and there was the birthday boy, beaming. Sir had specially ordered a cake all the way from Tezpur. A lot of singing and picture clicking later we had breakfast. Amazingly, the rain stopped. We set off for the forest walk. This one wasn’t that arduous. Leeches were omnipresent just like Pakke. But the forest was pleasant and less hostile in many ways.

In the afternoon we were supposed to go rafting in the river. We reached the spot and chose our life jackets. Helped each other put them on and then posed in our yellows and reds for the group photo. We set off in the rafts, four in one. At first it was nothing much to talk about, although the feeling of the water flowing under our feet was lovely. Then when we went over shallow waters, the water splashed over us from everywhere, and that is where the fun began.

Listening to Dylan and soaking in the forest on both sides was sheer bliss. After much cajoling, the rowers finally let us try our hands at the oars for a while. We went haywire but liked it nonetheless. Anish, Dhiren and Deepti got into the water and held on to their rafts. Only Deepti can come up with all this. Hats off to the Talpade siblings.

In the evening we visited the neighbouring village where most of the population belonged to the Mising tribe. We met the chief of the tribe. The jolly good fellow was all smiles. He showed us around his house but did not let us in, saying that his wife wasn't at home. He had a huge farm, cattle and a mini silo. Looking at the rest of the village, this was prosperity. A few goofballs among us couldn't resist cracking 'missing' jokes.

We moved on to another house, where a lady was weaving. We even saw a charkha. We walked further through picture perfect farms. The Assam plains are fertile enough to play host to papaya, coconut, dates and many more varied trees. It was nice to see all of them fruit laden.

We went back to the camp. We had a session on Climate neutrality that set many of us thinking. After dinner, we played DRAW 4 and laughed hysterically. Aditi, Swedyl and I performed that dance for Dhiren, and it was an instant hit. We even played Dumb Charades where the 'Gaanja' episode happened. While playing something struck me - It's amazing how people have so many hidden layers to them, when you get a glimpse of one of them, you see that person in a different light altogether.

To Nameri, 9th May, 2008

2008-05-18T16:52:00.000+05:30

We set off for another monastery in the morning. It was bigger than the one we saw before. Two monks, barely 10, looked at us in disdain. They were scandalised when too many people tried to click them. I wondered what their life would be like everyday and what were they thinking when they were seeing so much of colour all of a sudden, with so much city noise dashed in. A sleepy dog made the most of it and got his flea-ful fur cuddled thoroughly. Sir told us more about the place and Buddhism. I saw David pass a tenner to one of the kids. I don’t’ know why but I felt guilty for intruding in the little monk’s home that day. He certainly didn’t want any of us there.

An episode I will never forget was Priyanka’s display of strong abdominal muscles. She made Mini stand on her while she was lying down on the grass. Kudos!! We all cheered. Then our ever-so-enthusiastic CROC stepped up and well, she does have very strong abs. Only we also heard a grunt from the wrong end in the process.

We went through a village called Rupa where some bought prayer flags to take home. I just bought very essential lozenges. We rode back to Balukpong and Hotel Solu welcomed us once again. A good lunch and an intense session n Russel peters by Anish was enough to get rid of my sleep.

We started off for Nameri. After we crossed the Assam border, a few lucky people like me got to ride on top of the bus. It was fantastic – the weather was warm but windy. We sang songs and waved at the villagers. We ducked when there were low lying wires and branches ready to cut us in half. I don’t know when I’ll get to do something like that ever again.

We reached Nameri Tiger Reserve around afternoon. A quiet place with 5-star tents and tree houses, great infrastructure and excellent staff. We oohed and ahead at the rooms we got and set off again on for for a small river walk. The river Bohrelli is not as calm and clean as Kameng.

We came back and washed up. In the evening, we had a session with one of Sir’s ex-students, Chombe. He had a lot to tell us about the real scenario in Arunachal Pradesh. It was quite an eye-opener. What ran through my head then was that setting up a school here wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
The next day was Dhiren’s birthday. So the guys came to our tent and blew up a few balloons. Anish was our supervisor and we were very handicapped elves. Sitting in the lawn gazing at the stars in the constant insect creek almost put me in a daze. We slept off after wishing Dhiren. Since Aditi was fast asleep, we postponed our performance by a day.

Eagles’ Nest, 8th May, 2008

2008-05-18T16:51:00.000+05:30

We were ready at day break to board three jeeps. We were going to stuff ourselves in the jeeps and some would even get to hop on top of them. Aditi, Lincy, Swedyl and I wasted no time and saved seats for ourselves on top of one of them. Nadia joined us and so did Vicky. The ride was fun. Too bad I couldn’t get any pictures on the way because it was quite bumpy. Three high prayer flags that went up to the clouds urged me to get my camera out but personal safety and Aditi said otherwise. We grabbed on and sang songs all the way. My sore throat was irritating me. Couldn’t sing. Couldn’t talk. In the meantime Aditi and Swedyl choreographed to ‘Yeh Ishq Hai’ and within minutes a performance was ready. As we climbed higher, it got nippier and hazier. We were moving in clouds. Thank god I had my jacket on which by the way I didn’t take of all day. The ride ended when Vicky spotted a flat in our jeep. So we got off and tried to warm ourselves. There were a few bamboo sticks lying around in the clearing and someone came up with the brilliant idea of trying out the bamboo dance. As it turns out, I suck at it. Guess Anant’s right about the problem in my wiring – mind to limb coordination.
After a while we saw people of another jeep walking up to us. Theirs ran out of gas. So the third goes done to the town to get the tyre fixed and get more fuel. So much for conveyance. So we all start off on foot. But I am really glad we got to walk that day because it was breathtaking. Moss laden trees, dinning birdsong, bugs and beetles splashed with colour and silence. A few of us ended up walking an extra mile too. After some rest and a few things from Sir about various birds like Yuheena, Drongo, etc, we walked back. One jeep was now supposed to come back with our lunch. We caught sight of it at 4 and was that a relief! Lunch in makeshift tents in the rain on the mountain, who could’ve thought of that! We finally returned to the hotel, dead tired.

Balukpong – Tenga, 7th May 2008

2008-05-18T16:50:00.000+05:30

Had breakfast at Hotel Solu and loaded the bus to set off for Tenga. On the way we were to go to the Orchid Reserve at Sessa. But the bus and the bus driver were very daft and we were very slow. The climb was steep and it had to happen once. The clutch plate was conked and the bus broken down. So we set off on foot up the road. It was a steady climb and a little tiring for a few. We must have walked around 3 kms to Sessa. This was a beautiful valley surrounded by cloud covered mountains. Some had tea while others had photo sessions. There were a few like Swedyl and Aditi who had both. The bus arrived all repaired at Sessa and we got on it again.

The plan for the Orchid Reserve was postponed for the time being. On the way there was an actual waterfall to Anish’s delight. And yes, he was the first one to get in. People followed suit promptly and within minutes we had a bus full of dripping, shivering, screaming people. There were some people who opted out but most were game. I think the pictures taken here are the best.

We continued for Tenga and stopped for lunch at a place where they had graciously let us into their kitchen, that had a table full of steaming cabbage soup and fresh steamed momos. The room was hot and we all huddled up. I stood right in front of the fire and a few others lined up too. The heating session worked wonders. After the manna-like lunch we wound our way through more cloud laden mountains to Tenga. We saw the military establishments, all prim and proper. Cadets waved at us while our noisy bus zoomed past them.

We reached the hotel, sorted things out and again set off for a monastery nearby. It was a small Gongpa, but calming nonetheless. The prayer flags fluttered in the twilight as if they were cajoling the wind to go slower. The bowls of water offered every day to the Gods, the seven elements symbolised at various points, the significance of the Lotus made sense to me for the first time. Seeing all those things has made me curious about Buddhism and am going to read up as much as I can get hold of about it. We spent quality time in and around the place and walked back to the hotel. Had dinner, played UNO and slept off – all worried about how one is to get up the next day.

Balukpong , 6th May 2008

2008-05-18T16:49:00.000+05:30

We got up early and reported on time. Well, that was the case everyday but since this was the first day, I felt like a cadet getting up to the bugle. We trekked down a few minutesalong the highway and into the woods, where there was a pleasant din of birdsong. On the way Sir showed us the all-familiar Teak, Brack and Balsam. Sir caught hold of an earthworm which reminded me of my science classes in school. Was itching to sprinkle some salt on it. Didn’t though, everybody would’ve disowned me. An Ample amount of lovely butterflies were treating the eyes as well. Saw a courtship of brilliantly purple coloured butterflies. It was as if they were tied together with an invisible string. They were together, and in sync, yet apart from each other, as if they’re respecting each others’ space. On the way back we ran into a local who was carrying an ‘ara’ also known as a ‘dao’ in other parts. It had a langoor skin holder. Swedyl almost escaped being beheaded when we asked the guy to pose with her with it. I guess he could’ve easily got carried away. On the way Aditi, Swedyl and I saluted every army truck that went past us. They were delighted to see three girls saluting so seriously. We did a good job I guess, except for the fact that one officer did not salute back but waved at us like a girl.

After a hearty breakfast, we crossed the serene waters of Kameng river to reach Pakke Tiger Reserve. As we crossed the river in a rickety boat, some of us were all nerves considering that the boat could capsize any minute. Glen in our boat was as taut as a reed whenever we tilted. On the other side of the river, we saw an elephant. It belonged to the forest officials. The enthusiastic ones among us went up to it, clicked pictures and took a second hand interview of the elephant through the mahoot. He was going to be our escort for the day. His name was very aptly, Major Gulab Singh. I couldn’t help but notice the irony in that name. I prefer calling him Gulabo. The officials kept warning the kids to keep a safe distance from Gulabo, because visibly, he was in heat and very restless.

When the entire group was on the other side in one piece, we began our forest walk. It was a pleasant, cloudy day. The forest was very dense, moist and intimidating. The trail looked well used, but treacherous nevertheless. Sir gave us strict instructions not to keep any gaps in file and to be absolutely silent. And surprisingly so, we did obey well. I just wish that some of us would’ve avoided using sprays as well. It may have increased our chances of spotting something. The walk was pleasant and not very tiring for most people. Most of us were concentrating on the leeches too. So I guess it deviated their minds from the exhaustion. Although it was not very hot, the tropical setting made us sweat like pigs and dehydrated us almost like the leeches with salt on the. People who were right behind Gulabo were subjected to intermittent wind passing and other tantrums on the way. Avid birdwatchers spotted a pair of hornbills and an eagle. When the hornbills flapped their humungous wings, I could actually hear the whooshing. Wonder what it would be like with an albatross then. May be the hornbills knew how important they were as we were watching them in awe. That’s why they gave us such a majestic show. We even heard wild elephants from a safe but disappointing distance. Sir showed us a dung beetle. Had only seen those on Discovery channel. Pretty orchids dangling on here and there reminded me of how the contrasts of the forest are so blatant. Calm one moment, wild the next. Although we didn’t spot any animal, Gulabo himself hogged the limelight.

After the forest walk, we went back to the other side and to the waterfront for lunch. The Kameng flowed harmlessly while we enjoyed a well deserved treat. After lunch, we ended up disrupting the dinning calm by playing a game of Dog-n-the-Bone. But I have no regrets because my team won. Ok, arguably won. When we were about to leave, Sir asked us to spend some time in quiet. It really helped me sort things out in many ways on different levels.

There was a heated discussion and serious ear pulling over a so-called waterfall which was a drain according to Sir. Anish stood by his argument that it was much more than that. Areen added fuel to the fire.

We came back to the hotel. Some of us dropped dead while others wanted to explore more. We went to the market, had momos, bought a few things – chocolates, all-important shampoos, etc. Some even bought canvas shoes and camoflage pants and flaunted them around. After dinner, a few of us took a night walk down the river bed. As we walked, we saw fireflies lined up along the way, lighting up as we passed them, as if showing us the way. We lay on the cool, moist sand and gazed at the clear starry sky. I could hear nothing but the water flowing. I could’ve stayed there all night.

We came back and crashed. All set for Day 2.

The train journey : 3, 4, 5 May, 2008

2008-05-18T16:46:00.000+05:30

As we entered Assam, everything turned green. The arid and hot winds turned into a cool breeze. The yellow disappeared and picture perfect landscapes adorned the window. Ducks lined up in ponds, sleek boats in rivulets in siesta, young lads swimming in wild waters, men gong to work riding bicycles in single file – these were common sights. The train stopped somewhere for a long time. And I looked out the window to see a lone woodcutter, his skin glistening in the naked sun, atop a tree, chopping away, as if he doesn’t care two hoots about the heat or the deafening stillness of the forest. The train left only after he was done.

Ever time the train was stopping at stations for a long time. We were getting down and playing silly games on the platform. Quite a sight for everyone around.

There was something that pricked though. At every railway crossing I saw army convoys, tanks and trucks lined up, not letting you forget. So between sips of the tangy, mellow and red ‘lalcha’ I saw Assam welcoming me into the unknown, enigmatic North east.

Ignorant Intolerance

2008-03-04T16:30:00.000+05:30

Did they really write in blood?? I doubt very much. And even if they did, why? Does a petition undergo value addition if it's written in red? But what disturbs me most is that they did many more things than just 'silent protests'.

Ashutosh Gowarikar spent three years of his life making a film. Big deal. He's a film maker. That's his day job. But more than three years, he has also put in his money and probably his heart into it. He read all the history he could lay his hands on. He researched extensively. He even approached the royal family of Amer before he started off with the project just to make sure that he doesn't go wrong anywhere, that he doesn't hurt anyone's sentiments. And only when the film is just about to be released the Karni clan wakes up out of hibernation and ensures that this man suffers heavy losses. First of all, where were they all this time, when the promos were being aired for months? Secondly, which part of the Rajput's "aan-baan-shaan" is being slandered?

Okay so the whole fracas is about Jodha being Akbar's daughter-in-law and not wife. So let's delve into the matter some more. History states that Akbar was married to Amer's princess. And she was known by many names. Historians wrote only about the men in those times because the queens were always in closed quarters. Also, Jehangir, Akbar's son was married to Joda (mind the spelling). But this lady wasn't from Amer. So there is no room for a mix up in the first place.

There is history on one hand and on the other is the world of folklore, myth and legend, which is always more colourful, more fascinating. And is one's making a film, why not make one over folklore. If only history is to be accounted, go ahead, make a documentary. Anarkali wasn't history. But the story was gut wrenching. So the film was a hit. Jodha bai is a widely accepted name for Akbar's queen from Amer. So why can't people live with it and give the film a fair chance at the box office?

I watched the film a few days ago. I wasn't going to. But when they stopped screening it under pressure, that was when I made it a point to go to the theatre and contribute my small bit. I did not like the movie. But I liked some aspects of it.

I want everyone to go and watch this film so that it actually is a hit. That will atleast shut a lot of people up. Moreover, next time some so-called social-activists or cultural groups plan to raise their voices just so they appear on national television, they'll think twice.

I saw how the head of the Karni clan got rogered on NDTV Big Fight. Everyone extended their support to Gowarikar. But to what avail? The film has already suffered.

I also read an article recently by Shashi Tharoor that talks about one of the most externally tolerant civilizations of the world turning internally intolerant. Well, that's a scary thought. But it's happening. My next blog maybe :)

The Beautiful Mind

2007-12-30T11:44:00.000+05:30

How difficult is it to learn after all? You read something and you know it. Wish it were that simple. There are so many factors that go into it. First of all there is the desire to learn. One has to have the hunger for knowledge. If one is a reluctant learner, no matter how much one reads the facts just won't register. It would be more like a fleeting study of the text that one is going through while thinking about other things. Only when one really wants to know, wants to learn, does one remember every detail of what one has read. So we come to the point that even memory is selective. We subconsciously make sure that we remember what interests us and gradually erase what is dull and boring. But shouldn't it be the other way round? Remembering what colour dress Victoria Beckham wore to the last P3 party is far easier than knowing the current CRR value. So the mind should be programmed as to give higher priority to what we are reading because we are compelled to over what we are reading because we want to. But no, the wiring has to be that way. Just like your nose will itch just when your hands are full of dough.

So what does one do to know what one hates to read about? First step : start liking it. Yeah right!! But no, there's no other way. You have to start taking interest in it. Gradually things fall into place. I'm working on it. There's another aspect to this - the mode of learning. Eg : I learn best when someone in front of me is telling me about it. If i read about it it doesn't register that well. Also, writing what I've read helps. But reading what I've written a while later ensures that I actually recall every detail about it. There are some people I know who don't learn anything in class but understand the concepts really well if they read a good book. I have to develop this trait sooner or later, else I'll be in hot water.

Hot water reminds me - why do I remember what happened in this PGW but can't remember the name of the newly elected President of Myanmar? Or for that matter the name of the guy who was behind the coup d'etat. Again, selective memory. So do I turn these names into PGW characters and Douglas Adams ETs? Hope I do, and soon.

The brain's a funny thing. And its complexities will take really long to decipher. Watching Taare Zameen Par told me about how a beautiful mind can be wronged in such a barbaric manner. The kid was a true genius and yet, would have been lost in translation had it not been for early counseling.

These days schools have counselers. Even parents are more open to varied options for their children and are willing to consider parallel lines. They are also more receptive to counseling and psychological treatments. But I remember how insensitive parents and teachers alike were to the not so brilliant students in class when I was in Primary School. I just hope kids can live their lives now, especially after this film.

The Last Mughal

2007-11-27T10:54:00.000+05:30

I read The Last Mughal by William Dalrymple a few weeks ago. I must admit that I've never enjoyed history more. It's a colourful account of the way Delhi saw the 1857 uprising. I have deliberately avoided using any of the terms "The First War of Independence" and "The Sepoy Mutiny" because both are equally controversial after having read the book.

I had read about the events of 1857 in CBSE history books, CSR articles, and editorials of Independence Day and I had seen a couple of movies that glorified the Indian heroism and the ideology of 'what could have been'. But I guess I never knew the entire story. True, Indians were subject to barbaric treatment. The British were trying to convert Hindus and Muslims alike to Christianity. The sepoys were being suppressed inhumanly. The resistance was inevitable. But as the soldiers rode to Delhi, they killed the British men, women and children blindly. The British residents that survived have written accounts of most horrific murders of innocent lives. And this makes me cringe to think of the fact that reminds me of Godhra and Ayodhya.

Another aspect I didn't know of was the adulteration of the uprising with "jihad". Yes, not missing the opportunity, Islami extremists even then differentiated the Muslims of Delhi and called upon them to fight for jihad against the British. This move alienated the Hindus of the city and disrupted the unity.

All these events put Bahadur Shah Zafar in a fix. I would rightly call him the reluctant Emperor - the poet in pearls.

Ofcourse the book also mentions interesting anecdotes of our very own Ghalib and the lesser known Zauq who was supposedly saner of the two, and hence looked down upon by the former.

The best part about reading this book was that I felt the glory of the city of Delhi that was and I lived the misery of the ruins that still lie gaping with shell marks all over them. I just hope that they are all restored to remind us of the past we can never wash our hands clean off, and they don't demolish any more monuments.

CrossRoads

2007-10-10T17:58:00.001+05:30

Sometimes I feel very insecure and scared when I think about what I want to do with my life. There are a few times when I feel like going to Auroville for good. One such instance was a few minutes ago when I was reading this article about economic development affecting nature. Well, that was mostly the head and tail of it. That is when I remembered that I even have a blog and write about it. But this is a step I am scared to take. There could be a lot of repercussions to it. Also, I am not completely sure whether this is exactly what I want or not. Guess I'll never find out unless I actually experience it myself. That is definitely not going to be a bed of roses. But maybe it is, for me.

But what if I get sick of it after a few weeks? What do I do then? Not that I can't come back. I could always come back. But it would just be another thing I failed at. So is this what it is? Am I wanting to go there to run away from my possible failures in life? Maybe so. Only to avoid the many hassles I would be running after, I choose a place where there are no hassles I could possibly after. But again, there's my trait of finding something or the other that I want and don't have. And blow it up.

So when I'm going crazy with all these questions in my head, I just switch everything off and say - Hey.. I don't have to ask myself that question. So just forget it. Rite.

Thank you for Smoking

2007-10-01T18:00:00.000+05:30

My bro had it in his laptop. So just watched it. It was... well.. different to say the least. What hit me first was that it was about exactly what the title said. smoking. And yes, much more than that too. I know someone who's trying to quit. God knows how well he's doing. Is he even keeping at it. Strong will power is not exactly his forte. But if he sets his mind to it, he might just get there. For years he was in denial and kept saying that it was not a habit and that he could quit anytime he wanted to. So at least he has moved a step further. Oh so the movie.. rite.. It had layers to it. Ethics, morals, rights and wrong, and most of all integrity.

I wouldn't exactly remember this film when asked about my favourites. But I'm glad I watched it nonetheless. The movie makes you hate the protagonist's guts and at the same time you want him to emerge as the winner. Thank you for smoking. Crisp. Neat. Intriguing.

I have never smoked. Never think I will. Of course I couldn't have avoided passive smoking. But that has been minimal. And personally I find a cigarette in anyone's hand quite a turnoff. So just put that away and maybe then we could talk. ;)

OUTSaucered

2007-09-27T09:21:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I was watching The Simpsons and the episode was about outsourcing. It was hilarious, and I found it funnier because they showed Indians spaking in Hindi and Homer and family dancing to the tune of an old Bollywood number. Ofcourse it was irritating when they still showed Indian roads full of elephants and lined with palaces on both sides, but I felt proud nevertheless. Although it was a apoof it definitely asserted that we're making a mark and how.

The best part was when Homer's giving this speech out of nowhere and two people are wondering what he's talking about. Then the girl from MIT says that they should clap so that he stops his humdrum soon. And they were shown talking in Hindi.

But yes, there are still a lot of assumptions people make when they look at an Indian. Hopefully, we break out of the moulds set for us by the outside world soon. Coz we're more than snake charmers and elephant rides.

Switch to DemocraTV

2007-09-26T17:17:00.000+05:30

Hugo Chavez, our very own self-proclaimed socialist, who is determined to start a revolution of sorts, is well, full of surprises, to say the least. Now airing an 8-hour long talk show where he went on and an about everything under the sun has showed the world the idea of a true leader of today. The idiot-box bitten Venezuelan masses couldn't have asked for more. They can actually watch their government in front of their eyes. Chavez will reportedly even fire/hire officials on the show. This is reality TV at its very best.

So will Chavez also be affected by the TRPs?? Will he have to create drama on his show just to keep his people glued to the TV and his popularity soaring?? Well, he did break into a song on Sunday. And yes, he was quite funny at times. But is that enough to stop the people from not switching to another channel where a weepy soap is on? I guess the pressure will get to him sooner or later. He might have to fire a loyal employee who is reportedly being 'unprofessional' with his young secretary, or he will have to resort to some obscenity now and then.

But it all boils down to how efficient this experiment can prove to be. If all goes well, this could prove to be an ideal model of a responsive, interactive, accessible government.

So here comes the million dollar question. Can we do he same here? It could be radical and purists wouldn't agree. But if you see the slums, they won't have a light bulb, but definitely a TV with a dish antenna attached. So why not? Our very own democratic soap. Think about it Sonia. You could be the next Tulsi.

Drawing Lines..

2007-07-22T15:45:00.000+05:30

I remember the Social Science text books that used to teach secularism and universal tolerance. It was imbibed in us that discrimination on any grounds is downright evil. The civil books used to boast of fundamental rights and duties and the glorious, dreamy Preamble to the Constitution that we would eagerly cram and rant out on the slightest cue.

However, as I grew older, I gradually faced the reality. That discrimination is ubiquitous. The books seemed to be mocking at me now. I felt fooled. Fooled by the principles I was raring to strive by all my life. I learnt that being the daughter of two doctors does help in more ways than one. That having membership for the zaniest clubs adds on to one's value in the market. That "Contacts" help.

I also realised that "The caste system is abolished" is the biggest lie ever published, coz it's most definitely not. If the youth were more tolerant and nonchalant of this idea earlier, it has now been hammered into their heads really well. A general category student feels wronged and cheated when a less deserving candidate gets a seat which was rightfully his, and hence, knowingly/unknowingly he develops a lurking hatred for the next person he meets who basks in reservations.

I was shocked at first when I realised that even my parents make remarks about communities. But going out in the world, I realised that they're the most secular and tolerant people I know. And also, that meeting all kinds of new people who come from various backgrounds, it is very true that a particular trait is striking in the people coming from one region, or belonging to one culture.

Another aspect that pricks one's mind and makes one realise that she is different fromt he other is when she sees excessive chivalry amongst people of a particular sect and feels alienated.

As a young girl I never imagined that I would, out of all the people, turn out to be a prejudiced individual. But I am. Now, religion, language, caste.. does matter to me. Yes, not in a hateful way, ofcourse. But I realise that all these factors do play a very significant role in one's thoughts, temperament, attitude and horizons.

The other day a friend sent me a link to a few translated pieces of the Qoran that were very hateful. A senior of mine reads up all that he can find about every religion and writes about how inhuman and barbaric they actuall are while they claim to be burdened with the other races to be uplifted, etc. But I know that all that will not affect me. I am not here to hate. i am here to love, forgive and forget.

It's not like I am a discriminating person. I am not. I am a very tolerant individual who respects every other. But this feeling is inevitable. I really cannot trust a Muslim with my life, because who knows, he might just be peering into his computer attending secret meetings and gearing up to be the next suicide bomber. What is ironical is that my best friend is Bohra. And I love her a lot. True. Also, I have many many Muslim friends who have never been Muslim friends to me, just great friends. And I am a good friend to them too. So it's really not about the entire community. I have no hatred in my heart, but apprehension truly exists.

I cannot possibly have a problem with any particular religion for the simple reason that I am not completely aware of their teachings. I am a believer. But I feel that if statistics show that a particular religion is triggering inhuman, barbaric activities and thoughts, atleast there's room for improvement. Any religion can only flourish with evolution. The teachings of 200 years ago cannot work now. And even if one tries to ignore what is not to be ingested, it might just seep in without one realising it.

Picnic Hill

2007-07-08T23:58:00.000+05:30

The picnic's finally over and done with, and boy! what a picnic it was. Not a very phenomenal championship, but some of the matches were really thrilling. Can't say I followed all of them but didn't miss the good ones. And the men's final was the real ACT IV. Have always been biased for Roger and just couldn't miss this one. Nadal proved to be a worthy finalist and there were so many times when I stared in disbelief at the TV wondering whether Fedex wouldn't be able to break Bjorn Borg's record. But it had to happen. And it was so good.

But the golden rule still remains. The coolest head gets the game. Be it Roddick vs Gasquet or the second set of today's match, the moment the player had his nerves on end, he started committing unforced errors, double faults, et al. So it is the calm, composed player who rises above the rest. And we've seen that happen for the last five years. The humble, quiet, collected Federer, comes, does his thing, smiles and smiles some more and goes back home with the booty. That's the way one is a true winner, be it anywhere.

Not too good after all..

2007-07-06T23:55:00.000+05:30

So that waking up at seven life didn't really work out that well after all, but i'm slowly getting there. There are so many factors involved, aren't there? A late night party, or a very cold and damp morning, or a large pizza the previous night...

Hoping that I shun all of this and really pursue the "Good Life" bang on.

Good gal Bad gal

2007-07-03T08:48:00.001+05:30

After ages I guess, I got up at seven. Feels good. I just hope I follow this regime now. What elders say is not always hogwash. In fact whatever they say always makes sense at the end of the day. Things like going to bed early so that you study well in the morning works out so well for me. But sticking to it is the challenge. I just hope I can live up to these words.

Since I have the year's plan chalked out ahead of me, there's enough motivation at hand. But deviation is my midle name and I desperately want to change that.

I have to make a conscious effort now to work towards a good life. Sulking with a makeshift arrangement only leads to dissatisfaction and anger with oneself. And little things like working out, getting up early, not wasting time in front of the TV, reading something you wouldn't have laid your hands on otherwise, makes one feel good. I guess I am under a congenital pressure to be good, to seek appreciation from myself and from people around me. And if this isn't motivation enough, what is?

It's raining junk food..

2007-06-30T23:16:00.000+05:30

What is it about rain and a strong urge to have good food? I am speaking for myself when I say that as soon as it drizzles, leave alone rain cats and dogs, I instantly start thinking of hot steaming coffee, fried stuff with cheese and a lot more. But I still wonder about what the link is between drops of water, scent of the soil, leaves dancing with joy and our salivary glands. As soon as it starts drizzling and the drying clothes are brought inside before further damage, the pleasing thought of French fries comes to my mind. Then as it pours further, one begins to think as to how it would be like to have those succulent, salted fries with some melted cheese. And as the wind blows harder providing a surround sound effect, one ventures into the tangy hint of ketchup to the oh-so-tempting notion. And before you know it, it stops raining. But you still go ahead and have all that. Thank God for rain. But God help me if I’m not at home and I’m struggling in the muck just to get there.

YouChoob

2007-06-16T11:32:00.000+05:30

I had been avoiding the YouTube bug for quite sometime now. But no antibiotics, immunity boosters or tonics helped. First it was the "I don't have time." excuse. Then it turned to "How jobless is that!!" And one fine day, curiosity took over. As I hesitantly ventured into the channels, I tried to spot any familiar name. I ran into HappySlip and voila!! there I was, going through every video one by one, laughing out loud and wanting more. I instantly identified with her vibrance, her silly sense of humour and ofcourse, her goofiness, which I thought I had the patent for, but it turns out otherwise. There was this one video where she says that Nalts is awesome. So began my search for Nalts. First I searched for Nultz, getting boggled by Christine's PeepHole accent. But clearing more bushes away I finally land upon the FUNNYMAN's world. I simply adore the kids. Nalts led me to Pipistrello and others.

So when do I start?? Pas moi!! Vlogging's not for me. Too shy, too scared and too intimidated. Public opinion is on my list. So don't have the guts. And I realise that even if I keep all this aside, making a 1-minute video takes up a lot of effort.

Now Christine obviously writes the dialogue, does the Mom's part, the Dad's part, the Aunty's part and everything separately and then mixes and edits with music and effects. I love how much effort sh puts in each video. The hair, the makeup, the music.. She rocks!!

I haven't really seen the other YouChoob phenomena. But guess I'l bump into them soon enough and rave about them too.

YouTube was Time magazine's invention of the year 2006. And very rightly so. It is the ultimate platform of expression and it can't get any better than this. Everybody who's anybody can be here, be known, be heard and be seen. Information is no longer a luxury. It is right there. This is true democracy.

I just hope I catch on to it soon enough before I am labelled YouTubesolete.

breaking in...

2007-06-16T11:23:00.000+05:30

so it had to happen some day.. they edited my article for the very first time. But they didn't have to be so brutal. They could've been gentler. But it doesn't matter now. Of course this one was nothing to talk home about anyway. Guess I'm better off writing what I feel strongly about. But sometimes I feel so strongly about something that I'm never satisfied with the words that flow and end up not writing anything at all. That ain't any good either.

No more of petty opinions from me anymore. I'l turn columnist :) :) that's right.. let's see how that goes..

tchao

article for indore plus.. Sania Mirza.. can't they come up with anything else???

2007-06-09T00:11:00.000+05:30

Tennis is famous for major upsets every single time. It is ubiquitous that an unseeded, unknown player would storm his/her way through an international tournament and leave everyone gaping. And it is equally common that every champion struggles to keep his title for long and has to give in to young blood equally fast. What happened to Maria Sharapova against Ana Ivanovic at the French Open recently is proof enough.In this game of underdogs, it is very important to be at the right place at the right time. Everyone cannot be FEDEX. Some players, although very talented never really make it just because they aren’t lucky enough. Has luck not favoured Sania Mirza? One can’t really say. There has been no dearth of resources. Yes, she does not have an athletic body that is essential for a tennis player. Experts say that’s a major drawback. But over the years she has proved to be a sturdy player. Her rapid rise through the World rankings awed India since never had a girl achieved this feat. I remember reading an interview where Mahesh Bhupathi was with a 16 year old Sania. He said, "Watch out for her. She is going to be in the World top 50 soon." And it turned out to be so true. But alas, she could never manage to go any further. Some have already written her off, saying that her prime is past. But leaving all this aside, is Sania really ignoring her game because of her endorsements? I don't think so. She has been one of the most consistent players the game has seen and her dedication is more than obvious. Had she really been interested in cashing in on her brand value, she would've probably ended making more money than Anna Kournikova. Who knows, she would've easily starred in a movie too!!What is wrong in endorsements anyway? As Sania was rising in rank with every match she played, it was the media that created so much hype around her. It is not her fault that India is expecting so much from her and any criticism her way in is totally unacceptable.All we can hope for is that this underdog one day causes many upsets and creates history

2007-06-07T22:34:00.000+05:30

Watched CHEENI KUM the other day with family. I had a splendid time. We totally identified with the sense of humour in the film. Very much like what you might see in my house. Snapping at each other, calling each other innovative names.. quite on the lines of Ghaas Poos and Tangdi Kebab. Ofcourse I don't have a Colgate in my family. "HyderAyBAydi ZYayfrAyni PulAyv" has been immortalized.

The movie is just right. Just like the title. The undercurrent is positive, energizing, fresh, unexpected. With every single dialogue of each character you wonder where the movie's gonna take you. And every actor has truly lived the part. From the little girl, to the veterans, everyone is perfect. that's the word..

The classic sense of humour of every character is remarkable. Love the way Zohra Sehgal and Big B keep snapping at each other. Love the way Paresh Rawal advises Tabu not to turn vegetarian, ever. I could almost see people I know say those very same things.

At the same time, there's so much to learn from that li'l girl.. Loved the Sad Sad Happy Sad part. Next time I'm sad, I hope I remember this and have an icecream. And yeah, the most important lesson "CARPE DIEM, Baby!!" Live the moment.. Sieze the day.. Had a few glimpses of Robin William's Dead Poet's Society there...

So people, "COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS" and enjoy the movie. Kudos to the makers!!

2007-06-06T23:45:00.000+05:30

Really looking forward to hum dono in colour. love the songs.. my favourite.. abhi na jao.... soft, mellow, flirtatious, at the same time, innocent. the longing in every word flows out in more ways than one. ke dil abhi bhara nahi.. you have to be in love to know what it's like..

the music.. the lyrics.. yahi kahoge tum sada ke dil abhi nahi bhara.. it's out of this world..

quite obvious how much i love this song..

next in line is ofcourse.. main fikr ko dhooen min udaata chala gaya.. n my fav line has to be..

Barbadiyon Ka Shok Manana Fizul Tha..

Barbadiyon Ka Jashan Manata Chala Gaya...

i live by this philosophy, atleast try to..

WHY ME!!!

2007-06-02T23:28:00.000+05:30

so this kid in the neighbourhood.. must be a yr old i guess... cant really determine their age.. can walk, cant talk.. so ur estimate wud be the best guess.. would love to hang out with my grandma.. MY grandma.. but very selective about who he wud smile at. also, whenever i would come in front of him he would skew his face and wince and frown and knit his eyebrows all at once. he would give me the "WHY ME??!!" look, as if trying to ask, "What have I done to deserve this??" and if i stick around in my own porch for a minute longer, he would want to go back and wail for his mom. so whenver His Highness is playing with leaves and flowers plucked from MY garden in MY porch with MY grandma, the area is off limits for me.

and then one fine day, he didn't frown. Then the other, the eyebrows remained in place. And the other, no more wincing. He had begun to atleast tolerate me within a five-metre radius. Not bad, said I. Gradually, i started getting my share of rare and highly-coveted-for smiles and I-Spies. He even readily hopped on my bike for a ride, ofcourse, free of cost.

So then things started getting chirpier, I must say. But this wasn't for long. His family was moving to Pune or some place. And that was it. But the moral of the story is that initially one might detest me. But I guess I grow on people. that reminds of a PGWeology : If he grows on me, Il have him amputated.. but I guess I'm not that bad..

my article on the generation gap - for Indore Plus

2007-06-02T18:35:00.001+05:30

The “generation gap” is such a hackneyed phrase and so much has been talked and written about it, that sometimes it loses significance and its meaning in entirety is seldom understood. This phenomenon is not only universal, but also is eternal in the truest sense. It has probably been prevalent since time immemorial. Who knows, Adam must’ve looked at Cain and Abel in disbelief, turned to Eve, shrugged and said, “Generation Gap”.

The difference between the attitude, ideology, actions, decisions and way of thinking of two consecutive generations is summed up in these two words. But the question that everyone seems to raise is why does this difference arise? One theory could be that it is one of the consequences of evolution. Surprised? Well, don’t be. Human evolution has transcended mere physical characteristics and living habits into the mind too. Every coming generation is inherently smarter. Soaring IQ levels of 155-160 of Class 5 children today are proof enough. This is the result of the all-so-important requirement to be more and more intelligent to in turn, be more successful. So what has intelligence got to do with conflict in notion with the older generation? A lot, truly. With intelligence, comes the confidence to think on one’s own, listen to oneself and make one’s own decisions. And the more intelligent one is, the sooner one needs to think independently. This is where the catch lies. The older generation is not ready to let go so soon.

Every coming generation is more practical, more experimenting in career, academics and general interests, and more individualistic in more ways than one. And this has been happening all this while. Generation gap is inevitable. The older generation is always in conflict with the younger generation because they can’t come to terms with their attitude towards life, family, their career, etc. They feel that their children or grandchildren are too irresponsible and hence, have this strong urge to educate them before it’s too late. They always feel that it is better that their children learn from their mistakes rather than learning from their own. And very rightly so.

So now that one realizes that the G-word is there to stay, what does one do about it? It all boils down to how one handles it. The younger generation will always want to listen to their heart and act according to their instincts. But listening to your elders and paying heed to them always helps, because believe it or not, they’ve been there and done that, only in a different way. If we today think tattooing and body piercing is cool, even they’ve roamed around on streets with long hair and bell-bottoms chanting “Give Peace a Chance” and “Staying Alive”. What our elders can give is experience, and it will never work against us. At the same time, the elder generation should try to come out of their prejudices and try to be more open to new thoughts and ideas. Possessing a bias towards anything unknown doesn’t always prove to be right. Innovation and lateral thinking has always outshined stereotype. History has proved that out-of-the-box thinking is always dismissed as heresy, rebellion or revolt initially. When parents respect their children’s opinions, listen to what they have to say and discuss with them in a mature manner, even the children feel important and in turn, respect what the parents advise them to do. If a child is rebuked all the time, he grows up to be an immature, defensive and stubborn individual, which widens the gap between the two.

The generation gap has not widened. It never will, but it will always appear in different ways. What is essential is the way in which it is moderated. Rebellion ought to have purpose. One without it is mere obstinacy. If this vital delicate balance can be maintained, one can certainly look forward to a mature and responsible youth and a tolerant older generation.

2007-05-29T18:51:00.000+05:30

god bless them.. im back on a 40 hr week.. finally breathing. not that the 60 hr week was killing me, but throwing tantrums is inevitable.in fact, cribbing and grumbling tends to give one a wierd kind of satidfaction. many would agree. there is a sense of pride that comes with every woe one has. and lamenting on it just makes other individuals jealous. is this really so? does being a crib master really make one happy? ironical as it may sound, many are at it, and how. but it all surely boils down to the fact that if one pretends to be troubled, sooner or later, he starts living that lie and that "woe" actually starts to bother him. even then people take pride in living their lies and adding to their share of non-blessings...

2007-05-08T21:38:00.000+05:30

so the evil eye's set on me after all.. since i had been making everyone jealous about my forty hour week, im now working 10 hours a day, 6 days a week.. even for lunch i'm running.. the labour laws disapprove, but who cares. Basic humanity principles say 'No' but who's listening.

I wrote to my boss, yes. Not because i'm an altruist, but just coz i have nothing to lose. he was prompt, thats true, but even more convincing than me :) stil, there's light at the end of the tunnel. he might just melt. he miht just cut it short.

that sets me thinking.. Do people do good just for the sake of doing good.. or is there a possibility of a certain individual gain at some level? some do it so that they keep their slates clean. some do it out of sheer necessity, coz they are the worse hit, coz they have no choice.

once phoebe and joey disagreed on this. joey said, "there's no such thing as a selfless deed." phoebe thought otherwise. to prove it, she made a bee sting her. joey said, "you had an aim behind that, also, after stinging u, the bee died.. " then joey was on this tv show taking calls for donations. phoebe calls up, joey takes the call, and she donates whatever she had in her account.. "see thats a selfless deed". That donation turns out to be the biggest that evening, and joey, in turn gets to be on tv! so ultimately, phoebe's "selfless deed" gets her friend to be on tv.. there u go.. and thats where this saying comes from.. "what goes around comes around" call it karma, or call it an undying desire to steer clear of the all pervasive fear of the unknown.. and the biggest killer of all.. guilt.

2007-04-29T14:52:00.000+05:30

what i loved most about "ZINDA" starring Sanjay Dutt and John Abraham was the grit the man shows even after so much being done to him. A newly married man who is doing well in life, has so many things planned, so many dreams in store is out of nowhere shot at, and wakes up to find himself in a cell. There's no one to exlain to him what he has done to deserve that, no one to tel him, why he's there, and for how long. Despair surrounds him. he is not allowed to ask questions, he is not allowed to live. he is not even allowed to die. fourteen years...

anyone could get crushed. anyone could give up, go insane, lose it all, give in.

it is the instinct of every being to live more than anything else that keeps one going. its there. its in all of us.

we just need to discover it.

so the next time when you are really low and ask yourself, "WHY ME??!!" think again. think of Bali. For fourteen years he must have asked this very question. To himself, to God. He must have wanted to scream himself to death. He would've wanted to wild.. wild with that pricking, curbing, ovrewhelming, encompassing feeling... how long.. he must be just waiting to die. just waiting. and yet he lived on.

a part of me tells me that curiosity also plays a very important role here. to see what happens next. because Hope never dies. Bali never loses hope. Hope of change. Any change. Change in the lunch, change in the time when they fumigate his room with Valium so that he's unconcious when they come to shave him, or even a change in his hairstyle..

this hope makes him stronger. this very hope makes all of us stronger. it always will...

2007-04-29T10:12:00.000+05:30

a sunday morning.. guess the last day of my extended vacation that was partly due to illness, and partly due to utter boredom. starting tomorrow i got to wake up at 5:45 everyday, go for french class, and yes, go to work too.

but i'm surprisingly looking forward to it, maybe coz the last week was totally unproductive.

so all's well that ends well..

tchao for now

obsession

2007-04-28T16:56:00.000+05:30

u cant get it out of your head
u cant help missing it
u want it u need it
but truely u dont
its just a way of taking your mind off something else
something more bitter, something much worse
when does this obsession end?
guess when its yours
then u detest it to the point of hating yourself
for loving it so much
for wanting it so desperately
for needing it when u didnt
for being what you r not

2007-04-28T16:49:00.000+05:30

so i finally start off.. pathetically late though.

setting higher standards for myself has always led to disappointment. yet i dont stop. it is what drives me. but it is what just mite break me one day. is being content with what one gets the rite way to go about things? or is the uncomfort of eternal dissatisfaction a healthier option?