Anweshna

Perceptions

2012-01-27T00:51:00.003+05:30

Is it worth trying to change perceptions that people create in their minds about you? Normally my answer would be “no”. There are 6 billion people in the world and each of those 6 billion is entitled to their opinions about everything – including you. But what made me write about this topic was perceptions which have been created about me in my workplace. I’ve been with my current organization exactly for 4 years today and very much to my surprise, I haven’t hated it enough to quit. Infact I have quite enjoyed most parts of it. For the last one and a half years I’ve pretty much been home bound – pregnancy and child birth have kept me home… Though I’m not naive and I had some inkling of my general perception within my peer group, I was still taken aback at the severity of the negative perceptions that my colleagues have developed against me.I was thought of as a prolific “ass-licker” – some one who leaves no stone unturned in licking my bosses ass to get up the corporate ladder. There were some nasty comments around my absence on maternity, my workload when I was back from maternity, questions around my actual work – both quality and quantity etc.. What shocked me – and I thought I was impervious to such gossip – was a comment by an unnamed co-worker “ Did she think she was doing a favour by taking calls when she was pregnant – if getting pregnant earns better ratings, then we could all go that way”. A lot of these negative vibes were generated after I got an unexpectedly good rating at office for my mid year performance. Even I was shocked with the rating as I was out of action for almost 2 months of the 6 and even when I was in action, I was working limited hours. So I would be justified in attributing most of these comments to pure professional jealousy. But then given that this is human nature and that I need to continue working here and work with these same people, should I actually have a go at trying to mend my reputation. If yes, how do I go about this onerous and self demeaning task?I guess I have my answer – if I think of the task as self demeaning – something which I think if I engage in will make me lose respect for myself, then it’s not worth it. I’m no Mother Teresa or Aung San Suu Kyi – I don’t stand for ideals or higher causes, in fact am quite an inward focused person who pays little heed to ongoings around me, except in case they actually impact my immediate life and family. But I do have an enormous amount of self respect which many a times is misconstrued as arrogance… but I’ve always been proud of myself. Should I quit while I’m ahead, start afresh in a new place with a clean slate – where I always have the risk of my past reputation catching up with me or should I stay put, fight it out and have these same people reverse their opinions of me? Come to think of it – do I actually care what they think of me? Obviously I do and apparently enough to have me write about it – so I’m disturbed by it. So should my focus be to try and not be perturbed by such shoptalk or should it be to take these as “developmental feedback” and work upon them? I still can’t figure out what to do… so I have decided that the simple course of action is to do nothing.. let life take it’s natural course – let me take one day, one person, one comment at a time as it comes at me and deal with the way the circumstances play themselves out and hope that I can do right without losing too much of myself in the bargain.

Back in Circuit

2012-01-22T05:32:00.001+05:30

It’s been a long time since I travelled internationally… 18 months to be exact. A lot’s transpired in life since the last time I set foot back in India from Erie, which had become almost a second home, thanks to me spending 3 months in the sleepy town and actually loving most of my stay there.

So when I decided to go back to Erie for a couple of days with a trip to Boston thrown in, I expected it to be tiring – whatever else it may turn out to be – tiring was one thing it surely would be.. 3 days spent in flights and airports for meetings which were cumulatively around 3-4 hours at the max. But then that was the nature of the job and it had to be done. So, no regrets.

I went to office the first day and met an old acquaintance who got up from his seat, came ahead and gathered me in a bear hug – my heart warmed. We asked about each others’ families, kids – we knew that business had to be discussed and dealt with – but that could wait. In today’s day and age where everything is to the point – even conversations with your spouse are limited to stuff that need to get done.. in such a world, the fact that a guy that I was meeting after a year and a half of which almost a year had gone by without much communication, was genuinely happy to see me was evidence enough to attest that human touch was still alive and throbbing….

After a couple of days in Erie, I moved onto Boston where I had to meet another acquaintance, who again was out of sight and out of mind for a long time…. He greeted me with and of course – a hug it was. Over a “business lunch” where more lunch was had and more Boston was discussed than business, we spoke as old friends would, bantering and bickering, laughing and joking and the jet lag, the fact that I was struck in the middle of nowhere and completely snowed in…. all that was suddenly forgotten and the trip was worth it… even if I didn’t get him to sign a dotted line and give me business – it was worth it. When I gave him something I had picked up for me at Mumbai airport (the fact that I picked it up at the airport shows how much thought went into it), there was genuine affection in his eyes.

This trip was turning out to be a huge morale booster for me, in more ways than I could imagine.

The feather to the cap was my trip around Boston. The day I decided to see Boston was the day that it started snowing at 7 am and predictions were that the snowing would continue till around 5 pm. So I called a cabbie who had chauffeured me a couple of days back from Boston Airport to Billerica to drop me back at the airport. He ended up giving me a round trip of downtown Boston – he showed me whatever he could, given the weather, kept up a constant commentary of the sights and people and peculiarities. A 26 year old Jordanian by birth – looking much elder than that, the youngest of 15 kids, with a nephew who was 1 and a half years elder than him, his family ran a convenience store in downtown Boston and he had been driving a cab for 4months.

What made me trust this stranger enough to trust 3-4 hours of my life with him, I don’t know. He could have easily cheated me, harmed me, done a lot of unthinkable stuff…. But instead I ended up having a really good ride and engaging conversation with a stranger whom I would most probably never meet again in my life.. very much like my driver in Venezuela who showed me around and managed to have a conversation with me without him knowing English and me speaking no Spanish.

I have time and again been reminded by life that humanity and decency still inhabit our lives… we just have to open our hearts and arms to welcome it.

The Motherhood Chronicles - VI

2011-07-20T08:30:00.001+05:30

People say being a mother is a full time job – I beg to differ, it’s not just a full time job, it’s a full life job. Never has this been more evident to me than during the last stages of my pregnancy and now – after my delivery.

My mom has not been a person in the best of her health. Suffering from asthma, any work load greater than her normal day to day activities takes a severe toll on her. Of the few things she cherished in her life were her morning and evening walks, her afternoon nap and her freedom to do minimal cooking for dinner.

Then came along Nandu and the best laid plans went awry. Now 24 hours is too less for my mom. She get up at around 5 a.m., or lets put it another way, she doesn’t sleep at night – taking care of the baby – feeding her, rocking her to sleep, changing her…..she makes breakfast and lunch and is off to work by 7 am. She comes back and somehow there is always work to be done at home, which she does. The only luxury she has now is a 3-4 hour sleep (which is all she has in 24 hours) in the afternoon, which is also normally disturbed by the baby-related happenings in the house.

For someone who falls sick at a slight increase in activities, my mom seems to be in good health. But I know that it’s all appearances. She is reaching into the innermost recesses of her will power and gaining strength to carry, literally bringing up my kid in a way that inconveniences me the least and gives me time and strength to get on with my life.

For someone who kept saying that “people should take care of their own kids themselves and not let the grandparents do the caring”, her actions completely belie her beliefs. The amount of love, affection and care she has for the kid, I’m afraid even I won’t be able to compete.

Then there is the man behind the woman. My dad is like the silent unsung hero of a war. The amount of work my dad does behind the curtains is unbelievable. In fact it is only because of this unwavering wall of support that my mom can lean on, is she able to carry on. He cooks, runs all the errands for the house, takes care of the kid when mom & I are resting and then some, things that he was unable to do for me, he does for my kid.

When I see how I and my husband deal with each other and generally with life, I feel sorry for Nandu, for she will never experience the love and support that I have.

The Motherhood Chronicles - V

2011-07-15T13:36:00.003+05:30

Now that the kid is almost 3 months old, she has grown onto us. Everything is about her, every decision is taken after checking its effect on her, every body's comfort is sacrificed for hers and everyones life is kept aside for hers. Inspite of all this, when she looks at you with those round eyes full of innocence and maybe even unadulterated love - not knowing who you are, how you look, not judging you - simply delighted that you exist and she is with you - all is forgotten. The sleepless nights, the petty inconveniences, the fact that you suddenly lost out your spot as the family's favourite child. All that remains embedded in your conscience is that look and the fact that you could do anything to keep that look as it is today.

When parents tell their children that you will realise what it is to be a parent only when you become one, believe me, no child is ever prepared for what is going to hit them - both the good and the bad. The fact that you lose all of your freedom, the fact that a small travel requires a trainload of the kid's stuff to be lugged around, the fact that you are perpetually covered in pee and vomit and the fact that this human life totally depends on you for its existence - the responsibility, the power of it all.... its overwhelming like no other experience.

But when I sit back and think, I really wonder, why we have kids? A couple of days back there was a blast in Mumbai - some 25 people lost their lives, a hundred or so were injured. Its not about Mumbai, it happens everywhere. Then there is the everyday occurance of rape, child molestation which you hope and pray and do everything in your power to ensure doesn't befall your loved ones. Somewhere down the line you yourself crush your childs dreams and turn her into a machine who is supposed to top in everything, earn the best living (even if she forgets to live a life while trying to earn one), toe the line that society has drawn and generally "do well" as per general norms. To top it as the kid grows, there are certain qualities - good and bad that they pick up. You can do the best you can to get all the good stuff in, but the bad always seeps in unnoticed. Before you know your kid is lying to you or not as empathatic as you hoped she will be or is as greedy as the relatives you used to bitch about in family gatherings. Then there comes the time when she accuses you of not being able to bridge the generation gap - she drinks, maybe smokes, has live-in relations with a guy (or a girl) and basically there is not much you can do about. You can just hope that you die with a clear conscience that you did your best and maybe that just was not enough.

Inspite of knowing all this I wonder why I had Nandu. I consider it to be an extremely selfish act on my part. In my quest to fit into society and to do as is expected of me, I have created a human life, which I have no skills or means of protecting from all that I know exists both out in the world and in one's self.

The motherhood chronicles - IV

2011-06-23T16:55:00.002+05:30

Some people surprise you even after long years of your association with them. In my case, I can’t claim to have a long association with him, though we’ve been married for more than 3 years now. Having spent the better part of the 3 years travelling, we do reconnect with each other on the occasions that our employers allow us to be in the same country. I have pegged him with a lot of not so desirable adjectives and was thoroughly convinced that he is just an over grown kid – completely lazy with not too overt a sense of responsibility.

So it came as a surprise, no, that’s putting it too mildly, a pleasant shock is a better term, when I saw him after my delivery. If you are a guy who sees his wife immediately after a gap of 4 months after a C-section you will understand what I mean. At around 85Kg with a bunch of stitches and acute pain with every movement, I repelled even myself. Pregnancy and delivery, contrary to common myth, is not a very enjoyable experience, at least in the early stages. So I was amazed when he was all full of affection for me. I was convinced, I was going through some kind of post partum depression and he was there by my side convincing that everything that I felt – right from the guilt at putting everyone around me to inconvenience to the feeling of desperation that life as I know it has come to end; was completely irrational and that we would get through everything just fine.

Maybe after he saw what I was going through to have given him the most precious gift that I could ever give him, he felt it was necessary to do so – maybe he was trying to do right by me.

But then it didn’t have to continue. So my amazement continued when he was always by my side when I would feed, trying to support me in whatever way he could, which was mainly by looking up the internet on his new iphone for all and sundry topics ranging from how to breast feed to what is colic & what could be done about it. He was also completely in support of using supplemental feed for the kid when I was unable to breastfeed. There were times when he would take the kid from the room where I slept in just so that I could get a few extra minutes of sleep. For a guy who wouldn’t wake up from a deep sleep even if there was an earthquake, he would come running when the kid would bawl at night. For a guy who couldn’t be bothered to move his butt off the couch to help in household chores, he would spent long hours carrying the kid, comforting her, putting her to sleep.

The kind of family structure we have in India leads to the would be mother going to her maternal house for delivery and normally staying abck there for the first few months. I haven’t heard of too many guys who keep visiting the kid in this period due to multiple reasons – one – they would have to face their mom in law too often and that is not a pleasant prospect for any guy and second – there is nothing exciting happening in a kids life in the 1st 3 months – they don’t recognize you, spend most of their time sleeping, feeding and pooping. So your presence or absence as a father really doesn’t make much of a difference. But he was determined to be around for every stage of the kids growth. For a guy for whom coming to Mumbai and living here for any extended period of time constituted the worst nightmare, the kid turned him around. He actually sought a project in Mumbai or Pune or thereabouts so that he could be closer to the kid.

His laziness in his personal life continues that he still doesn’t cook when he is alone in Bangalore and hates doing the dishes. God knows when the house was last cleaned and laundry done. Nothing else seems to have changed, but he seems to be a transformed person when he is around the kid. I have always known that there are other family members of his who take precedence over me in his life and I was cool with that – I don’t expect him to forsake his family of 30 years for his wife of 3 years. But now I guess everyone takes a back seat – only his kid takes precedence – I guess that is how it is supposed to be.

The motherhood chronicles - III

2011-06-02T15:00:00.000+05:30

It all started with an important occasion – mom’s 56th birthday on 21st April. I had a Doc’s appointment scheduled for the same day. We planned to go lunching and shopping after the appointment. I was still contemplating on what gift I could get her and had frozen on a portable music system which I could get from Chembur market. It was all planned out when fate decided to intervene. The day finally ended in tears with my mom getting her most prized gift of all – a grandchild.

All occasions since then have been blurred.

A few days after Nandu was born, I got a call from my Mom’s best friend wishing me Happy Mother’s day and for a few seconds I didn’t know how to react. Mother’s day was reserved for me wishing my mom and getting her a card or something – not that I actually remembered it ever. Thanks for TOI for reminding us of such mindless occasions promptly, as if I needed a day to tell my mom that I loved and respected her.

Then came my birthday on 13th May. It was my 1st birthday since I gained memory that I didn’t receive a gift on. No new clothes, no surprise gifts, no eating out – nothing. A bunch of well wishers did call to wish me and I enjoyed the attention shifting back on me, albeit for just a day. I guess all birthdays for a long time will be a replica of this one. And to top it all, it was my 30th. The one where I’m supposed to go over the hill. Anyway, I was more under the hill than over it.

18th May was Nandu’s big day. She turned 28 days old on 18th. As per our traditions, it was her 1st birthday. And we celebrated it in style. Our closest relatives, all of mom’s dear friends, neighbours from our society, a few old family friends – all turned up. Nandu was not in her best form on the day. She was a bit sick and spend her time partly puking and partly sleeping. I was happy to be among so many people again and though there were more enquiries about Nandu than me, it still felt good to be back among people and not encaged at home with no other thoughts than about Nandu and her feeds and her health and her sleep. It may be because of this attitude of mine that I over heard someone say, “What a mother, utterly no concern for the child.” Did it hurt to hear that - of course it did. Did I contest the comment – no I didn’t. The child had been puking and as I am generally considered incapable of handling the child, she was not brought to me for anything other than feeding. She was in the safe hands of my aunt and I trusting my aunt more than myself, saw no reason to be concerned or fawing over Nandu and basically not to be enjoying myself. I guess, you lose the right to enjoy yourself or think of yourself once you have a child. If you have any such selfish thought, you are branded an unfit mother. Anyway, the lowest point of the day came a couple of days later when we got the photos of the occasion and I realized that there was not a single photo of me with Nandu. There were photos with my parents, my aunt, my inlaws and even photos with my hubby. None with me – other than a consolation prize kind of photo where I was standing next to my hubby who was holding her with my hand strategically place beneath her as if to justify my existence in the photo.

The month ended with my parents 31st wedding anniversary on 24th May. A day as ordinary as it gets. It was exactly like 23rd and 25th May.

The only occasions that would dominate our lives for the next 15-20 years will have something or the other to do with Nandu. I guess all I can do is to hope and pray that all those occasions be happy ones.

Motherhood Chronicles - II

2011-05-15T20:19:00.000+05:30

“Are you enjoying your motherhood?”, the doctor asked me. It was a loaded question and I couldn’t truthfully say “Yes – It’s a joy. It’s completed my life. It’s what I had been waiting for. It’s given new meaning to my life. I couldn’t say any of these things truthfully. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a mother. Everyone around me including my husband and my father seem to be enjoying her presence and existence. The only person who seems to be aloof from the merriment is me. For me it’s as if I’m seeing someone else’s life from outside. I still don’t feel a part of my own life. Having a child is said to be a life altering experience, but for me it’s been an event which has made me forget my own life.

I’ve always been someone without too much attachment to children. So when time came for me to have my own, I was skeptical as to how I would deal with it. There were no surprises. I didn’t have any sudden surge of maternal instinct or feeling. When she cries, I’m the last one in the house to get affected. My mother and mother in law come rushing in to pacify her. When she throws up, everyone at home gets psyched. I browse the internet, find that throwing up is normal in infants and decide that there is nothing to be worried about. I’ve never stayed and watched my bai give her a bath. I’ve never dressed her up after a bath. I’ve never put her to sleep. I’ve practically done nothing. Then you may ask “What do I do as a mother?” – practically nothing. I feed her and that too not too effectively. Most of the time she is still hungry after I feed her. I sometimes feel tired to do this only thing that I’m required to do and my mother uncomplainingly feeds her Lactogen. I’ve changed her diaper a couple of times and helped my mom or mom in law clean her up after her potty or vomit sessions. That’s about it. My role in my child’s life can be easily substituted by a tin can of Lactogen.

Everyone seems to find enough reason to hold her, talk to her, play with her i.e. everyone except me. Somehow everyone in the house seem to think of me only when it is time to feed her. Otherwise, if she is crying in my arms, no one thinks I’m capable of sushing her, if she is drowsy, no one thinks I’m capable of putting her to sleep, if she is awake – well there are so many people fawning over her that I feel out of place. She is my child – amn’t I supposed to be the one closest to her? I feel as though I’m the only person who she has no connect with. My dad reads her the newspaper and she seemingly enjoys it. My husband narrates events of the day to her and she listens aptly to him. My mom is constantly playing with her. My mother in law is always on the look out to take her from my arms to either put her to sleep or to play with her. The only person who has spent an equally less or maybe lesser time with her than me is my grandmom and that is mainly because she is 76 and is very skeptical of holding the baby.

Then there are these comments which people say to soothe the kid when crying – mainly “Didn’t mommy feed you enough?”, “Didn’t mommy feed you on time?” which may be totally innocent but make me not want to be in the same room as the child when her mouth is not stuffed with my teats. There are also theories – interesting ones which again have to point fingers at me – “It’s my breast milk dripping on her face which has caused all the heat rashes on her face” – I guess the sweltering heat of Mumbai has nothing to do with it. “It must be the foul smell that you emit which makes the kid stop feeding early leading to her stomach not getting filled” – what do you expect me to smell like when I’m covered in dripping sticky milk, vomit, urine, stool and my own blood from the eternal bleeding which I’m to suffer for at least 40 days after I give birth.

But maybe I’m being too unfair by blaming only others for this situation. I’ve seen my husband just sit and look at her when she is sleeping – unconditional love written large on his face. I’ve seen my mom – almost half dead after all the house work and sleepless for days together staying up all night ensuring that the kid is sleeping well and doesn’t vomit. I’ve seen my dad pick her up and walk for long periods of time and enjoying talking to her. And what do I do – I normally watch TV or stare into emptiness or fall asleep while feeding her. The fact that I take absolutely no initiative to bond with the kid really doesn’t help my cause. And the saddest part is that I don’t feel like taking that initiative. There are so many others doing everything – why should I bother?

Anyway, I’m not sure how things will pan out – but being the die hard pessimist that I am, I don’t have much hope.

The Motherhood Chronicles - I

2011-05-06T12:16:00.000+05:30

15 days back my life as I had known it for 30 odd years changed – whether for better or for worse needs to be seen. The change though gargantuan in nature came in a pretty small package, all of 2.75kgs and red – no I’m not talking of fresh ripe tomatoes… I’m talking about the stork visiting me with a lovely daughter as a gift. It’s one of those changes that nature gives you nine months to prepare for – both mentally and physically and still when the time comes you feel like an engineering student on the eve of his final exams – totally clueless with a new found faith in God.

It all started way back in August of 2010 when I discovered that I had conceived. Now, I don’t know what an ideal reaction to an incident like that should be, but I tried to act all pumped up and excited. Frankly, I was shitting bricks. What does this mean – and my mind was conjuring up all the extreme negative side effects of parenthood – total loss of freedom, additional responsibilities which I was not ready for, stretching my already stretched body to its maximum, additional expenses, maybe sacrifices required on the career front… was I ready for all that? Nope I wasn’t – and I didn’t think I ever would be. So I decided that as a matter of “social obligation” which is what my husband calls marriage (and it is one of the few things that I agree with him on) and family; a child had to be had and the timing was as good as any. I was just about to cross 30 and apparently my biological clock would be ticking away to glory and getting pregnant and delivering would only become an uphill task going forward. If the misery had to be undergone, better do it when the body is capable of doing it with the least amount of trouble.

Then came the months of uneventful checkups with a gynec. Even the selection of a gynec was a totally lackluster event. We looked for a hospital / nursing home close to our residence, called them up and asked them if they had a gynec – no references, no hi-fi hospitals, no second opinions. I had a pretty mundane pregnancy. No complications (touchwood), no excitements, no hiccups. Life was so ordinary that if an expectant mother were to ask me what are the symptoms of morning sickness, I would have to give an answer from one of the myriad pregnancy books as I have no practical experience of the same. My tummy didn’t even show till about the 7^th month. The highpoint in my life was the 1^st scan we took of the kid where I heard the kids heart beat. I was a weird feeling and the 1^st time that the feeling sunk in that there was life inside of me and I was responsible for it.

I was working from home practically for the whole duration of my term and though the work was hectic, I didn’t have to travel at all and that was a big relief. There was so much work that I didn’t have time to mull over the details of pregnancy like “is the baby kicking”, “do you have cravings”, “do you feel tired” etc. I was on phone all the time with no time even for the mandatory “walk”. Everyone at home and work decided that the kid was going to be an expert in the field of internal controls and anti corruption regulations around the world when it came out because that’s all what I spoke for around 7 months out of the 9 months of pregnancy. Then as usual at a crucial junction of my pregnancy when something had to happen, my hubby decided to go for a short stint to Singapore. The only thing we as a couple have an unspoken agreement about is the importance of our respective careers - I didn’t want to stop him. So with him out of the way, the path was clear for me to leave the dreaded city of Bangalore and come home to Mumbai.

In Mumbai, my parents smothered me with affection to an extent that I felt guilty being pregnant and turning their life upside down – little did I know what was in store after the baby came. Their actions also scared the living day lights out of me – these were big shoes to fill and these actions were too tough to equal. I could not for the life of me visualize myself or my husband being so selfless and doing all the same things for our child that my parents were doing for me.

And then the big day arrived – I was due to go for a checkup on 21^st April – it was mom’s birthday and we had the whole afternoon planned. As usual, the best laid plans are the ones which go totally haywire. My water broke at the stroke of midnight on 21^st – when the rest of the world was sleeping and I was contemplating waking my Mom and wishing her a very happy birthday – here I was waking her and telling her – Its time. It was a week early than we expected, but then the kid had other plans I guess. There was no mad rush to the hospital – I sure that if I wrote a detailed book on the days and months of my pregnancy, it would turn out to be one of the most boring books ever written as nothing exciting happened.

We were at the hospital at half past midnight and the doc was there. No, I didn’t feel any pains and the doc expected no action till morning. Sleep well – its going to be a tough day tomorrow. The day came, many well wishers, mostly mom’s colleagues and friends who were almost like my surrogate mom’s were at the hospital more to provide moral support than for anything else. Between 6 am and 6 pm, the doc tried inducing labour pains some 4 times and finally gave me an epidural when she was convinced that I wasn’t going to deliver normally. She thought that if I wasn’t going to deliver normally I might as well be spared the pain. Finally at 6.50pm or so, nearly 19 hours after my water broke, I went under the knife and in 10 minutes the kid was out.

There was new life on planet E and I was responsible for it. I didn’t know what to feel, I drifted off into a fitful sleep aided by the anesthesia……Little did I know that for a very long time to come, all my sleeps would be fitful and an 8 hour sleep would be a luxury that I couldn’t afford – very much like a BMW or Audi.

Great Expectations

2010-05-26T08:20:00.004+05:30

There are times in life when you feel happy that you did something ... something that normal people are supposed to do.. like taking up a new hobby, traveling, enjoying life in a moment... something that seems to happen in other people's life... infact everyone's life but yours.

So I'm happy. Now ask me why??

I figured that I am not expecting enough of myself, that I haven't set the bar high enough. I know that I'm not extraordinary, but then I am not one who believes that there is something called extraordinary. Every one is good at something - sometimes that something may be nothing, but doesn't negate the fact that you are still good at something. I am one of those people who has been called everything from over confident to arrogant to cocky. There were times that those "accusations" hurt. Not anymore. I've made peace with myself. As long as I can sleep well at night knowing I haven't hurt anyone knowingly, I'm cool.

So coming back to self expectations.

I'm in Erie, PA. A place I visited for a week in March and wrote off as a sleepy town, nearly comatose. Now I've been here for a month and a half and you know what, it's not half as bad as I thought it would be. It's small, but there is nothing wanting (maybe a bit of night life, but I'm not much of a nightlife person myself, so wouldn't know if one existed anyway). It has beautiful residential areas, a serene lake, a beautiful state park, an amusement park which boasts of the 6th best wooden roller coaster in US, HQ of a couple of big MNC's, a couple of Wallmarts, a couple of really top notch hospitals.....

So I got thinking. If this place which seemed so dead a couple of months ago could have so much hidden within, how much could I have within me... and I don't even seem dead or comatose. I have all this energy within me which normally just goes in watching life go by and not actually participating in life. I'm not Bolt, don't want to be either, but should I at least run in the race which is my own life? I remember a line from the movie "The Holiday", "you should be the leading lady of your own life". I guess with no one around in my life as of now (me being alone and devoid of all familial ties barring the 15 minute call to India per day) I finally can concentrate on my own life.

I have seen that when I'm alone I tend to do things which actually enhance my personality, things which I like, things which make me feel like the leading lady of my own life, things which give me hope and happiness...Everything to do with what I think of myself rather than what others think of myself. I am aware that this is not a permanent state of affairs. This is but a brief hiatus, a momentary respite from "real life". But its proving to be the much needed breath of air that I needed when I felt like I was sinking in the mundane tides of my life.

So what is it that I'm harping about. I've taken up swimming. Of all the things to do when in US and to spend an obscene amount of money on, I decided to do it on a new skill. I decided that if the tides of life became too much for me, I should at least know enough to stay afloat. With that in mind, I joined private swim lessons and finished 3 classes. I'm not doing as spectacularly as I thought I would, but hey.. I can float and I can get a few strokes in... so I'm getting there.

Another thing I do here with a lot of dedication is gymming... I haven't lost oodles of weight, but I spend atleast 45 minutes in the gym - walking, climbing, doing weights etc thrice a week. So at least that discipline is imbibed.

My next aim is to start driving when I'm back in India. I have allowed myself to be bogged down by other people's opinion of my driving skills. I may not be good... heck I admit, I'm not good, but its nothing that I can't do... there is almost nothing that I can't do if I put my mind to it..

So, maybe this is a good time to pen down a few things that I want done before end of this year.. all for me and me alone (even at the risk of sounding totally selfish):

At least do a complete lap in the pool before my 10 lessons are over

Continue with swim lessons when in India
Continue walking / gymming when back in India
Do whatever is necessary to drive independently in Bangalore
Write atleast a couple of CIA papers..
If possible (and if not an overkill) - start a new language course.

Even if I get a couple of things from the above list done by the time I redo my new year resolutions for 2011, I would be satisfied.

New things in life

2010-03-07T03:04:00.002+05:30

A lot has happened since I last wrote.

I got promoted. I got a decent hike. I got a project which will keep me out of home for around 6 months this year. So I screwed my family life. My husband who has a steady job for 3 years, changed jobs finally. And now that he did it once, he is all excited and he is on the verge of changing to another job in less than a month. Our flat in Bangalore is getting ready quite on schedule. Most probably I won’t be around when we get the keys to our house. Go figure. I keep advocating others not to allow people to take you for granted and to ensure that you have your dignity. I guess all that is just pep talk for others and really doesn’t apply to me. We keep having plans of starting a family which we keep pushing to the next year or some occasion because “ it is not the right time”. I liked the attitude of my new client… a go for it guy who says, there is never a right time for anything. So why wait.. just do it. So simple. He runs a $ 20 billion company and if he says it doable then it must be.

Had a chat with the guy who keeps the kitchen at Hotel Avalon in Erie, PA where I stayed for a week. Spoke to another old man, who has been sober for 8 months, or so he says. Things they said seemed to echo conversations that I can have with any middle class person back at home. Most of the issues we discussed, Oh yeah.. we discussed issues over breakfast…. Were simple day to day things.. spending too much, saving too much, having a job, not having a job, good, bad, evil, god, drinking…. Kinda felt like home…. In a strange land, in a strange hotel, watching college basketball, eating stale muffins, talking to a strange black guy and an even stranger white oldie.. I felt safe. Caught up on the old episodes of CSI, CSI NY, Law and Order, Bones….. good use of time.

Walked around the town.. Erie. Small place. As Debbie at the bric a brac store down told me.. the town strives to keep itself small. Covered in pristine snow, it had a charm of its own. It is home to Gammon University. Maybe it’s a good place in summer when the lake is not frozen and people come out more. When summer comes here is another question, but whenever it does.. I’m sure it will be beautiful and the way things are now, I’m sure I will be there to see it when it happens.

Travelled in Air India for the 1st time and I have to admit, it was not as bad as I thought it would be. The food was great, to say the least. The service was ok… can’t compare it to Emirates. What really let me down was the entertainment. There wasn’t enough to keep me occupied for 8 hours on my way up to Frankfurt, I wonder what I would do for a 21 hour flight down to Mumbai.

Waiting for life to just pass me by…

Unnerving Uniformity

2009-11-17T11:56:00.000+05:30

Last time I wrote, I got serious criticisms for my work. Considering the very limited readership that my blog has, this is a serious matter. So I have decided to pull my socks up and try and write better.

There is something about UK that makes me want to write about it everytime I visit it. I am in Croydon. Nice place. Not your typical country side with brownstone cottages, antique churches and wide open spaces. It’s more commercial. Tall sky scrapers every where, even my hotel has 12 floors. When I asked the receptionist what I could see around the hotel, all she had to suggest was the shopping centre opposite to the hotel, the Whitgift Centre. So I took her advice. I walked around the town, admiring the buildings the churches, the houses, the people (it is hard to find a Caucasian here) till there was daylight and then I entered the shopping centre. The fist shop I entered was M&S. Not that I had any intention of buying anything from there, but still….

When I came out of M&S onto the shopping street, it took me sometime of get my bearings right. A couple of weeks back I was in Leeds and Newcastle. Previous year around the same time I was in Peterborough and the year before I was in Ipswich. And surprisingly the town centre of East Croydon looks exactly like those of all the towns I’ve mentioned before. The layout, the shops, the eateries… all of them.. nearly identical. All of these centers by default have M&S, Debenhams, Primark, T.K.Maxx, Zara, H&M, Mc Donalds, Burger king, Curry’s digital, T-Mobile, 99 pence store, Abbeys Bank, Lloyds, Ladbrokes, Sainsbury, Subway... There may be slight variations as to the positioning of the stores, but more or less you know that you just have to walk another block and you will see M&S or a Debenhams. And what’s more – the products on sale are exactly the same. I could remember the price of each winter jacket I had seen in Primark, Leeds and the same variety, the same colours, the same prices were found in Croydon. The only local variations, if any are stores set up by Asians which gaudily advertise “cell unlocking”, cheaper than cheap Boots, stock clearing sales etc.

Uniform houses, uniformly laid our cities, uniform shopping districts, …. This obsession with uniformity is maddening. There are a few big names which are consistently found everywhere. Is it good or is there something very unnatural about it all? Compare this scenario to Mumbai. Mumbai has around 30 local train stations. Outside each train station is the local market. These markets sell everything – maybe other than airplanes and nuclear weapons. Try hard enough and you may find these also. But the point is though you know that you will get everything, you still have variety. Every shop is owned by a Gujju bhai or a Madu seth who gives you unique variety, personalized bargains and more than anything else remembers you. I think it’s the human touch which really matters. There is this shop called Snoopy near Chembur Station. It’s a tiny shop which sells ladies formal and casual wear. I’ve been buying my formal wear from there for the last 7-8 years and though I live in Bangalore now, I still make my annual shopping pilgrimage to Snoopy’s to buy my stock for the year. The thing is that the guy knows my waist size, my colour preference and my taste better than me. There have been times, when mom has gone shopping for me without me and he advises on what would suit me and which size would fit me. It’s uncanny that 9 out of 10 times, he is spot on. We don’t bargain with him. He just gives us a 10-15% discount on every purchase, irrespective of the time of the year of the quantity of purchases. I don’t think if I visited the same Debenhams everyday anyone would notice me or remember me. It’s just too huge. The era of small shops is fast disappearing. They are getting replaced by malls. The local bania who remembers your favourite brand of tea, your fathers special toothpaste and mom’s special brand of masala is now replaced by Big Bazaar, Reliance Fresh and like. No one remembers you, no one gives you credit in case you really required something and you forgot your purse at home, no one gives you a rupee or two off on every purchase, so that by the end of your shopping you have spent Rs.10-15 less. Nobody really cares and we don’t care that no one cares. Humanity is decreasing in direct proportion to the increase in population. Maybe that’s the future for us and we just need to accept it.

Chetan Bhagat’s New One

2009-11-16T12:21:00.001+05:30

The last time I read a Chetan Bhagat book, I sincerely wished he would never write again. But I couldn’t resist when I saw his new book “2 States” at Bangalore Airport. At 95 bucks and with over 2 hours to kill it didn’t seem like a bad idea. It certainly wasn’t. I had a long flight ahead of me – Bangalore – Dubai – London and the only book I was carrying was “the interpretation of murder”. I was through with the book by the time the flight took off from Dubai to London.

Firstly he has stopped thanking Bill Gates for making MS Word, so that he can type his stuff out. He still thanks a lot of people, but its getting better. Secondly I realized something about Mr. Bhagat. He has had an interesting life. And his writing is interesting when it reflects his life. I loved his 1st book “5 point someone”. It had soul. It was based on his experiences at IIT. It was a good read. Something which most Indians under 30 could relate to as they may have gone through the same experiences (in some convoluted form or other) at some point of time in life, even if they may never have and may never will go to IIT. But then there were those 2 “novels” – about call centres and about cricket. They were mediocre to say the least. They were more to suit a Bollywood screenplay requirements rather than a novel.

But with 2 states, Bhagat has redeemed himself, at least in my eyes.

He has written a rather predictable story, and even mentions the mother of all interstate love stories ever made in India, “Ek Duje Ke Liye”, which the movie resembles, albeit if the movie were set in the 21st century rather than 1980’s. It’s more like a EDKL meets DDLJ. The book is very much like watching a Bollywood movie. You know what is going to happen. The hero and heroine walk hand in hand into the lovely sunset and live happily ever after. But it’s the journey that we look forward to. Bhagat has done a really good job of holding the readers attention throughout the book. At no point do we feel like the part between the 1st half and the climax of a Bollywood movie, which has been filmed explicitly for the purpose of making the length of the movie upto mark… the standard 3 hours. The over melodramatic Punjabi mother, the extremely understated tam brams, the modern lifestyle of our generation, the lack of inhibitions, the part where kids suddenly seem more responsible than the parents, the continual dependence that we have on parents, no matter how old we are and above all the underlying “Indianness” of it all.

He has brought out the angst in every upwardly mobile middle class youth in India. The pointlessness of our jobs and lives, the tendency to give more importance to our baggages than necessary, the search for love, the guilt trip that we undergo every time we do something fun – maybe because we didn’t deserve it or because it was not “how we were brought up”, the “chalta hai” attitude towards problems in life, everything.

The fact that he is not trying to be artsy with his writing, which according to some may render his work as pop-trash, is exactly the thing that draws my generation and may be a couple of generations under me to this guys writing. Not everyone can be a star, though everyone wants to be one. By star I don’t just mean a movie star. Some want to be movie stars, some want to be star Singers , some want to be star CEO’s….its as if the whole world took Mariah Carey’s “There’s a hero inside you” too literally. Anyway, this guy’s success makes you optimistic. If he could make it big and write stuff that people actually read and get Bollywood deep pockets to make his writings into movies, then maybe we have a chance too. With blogs and twits and what not, maybe everyone can be a 5 point someone.

Stockholm Syndrome

2009-10-27T12:28:00.001+05:30

I’ve gone to UK every year for the last 4 years, mostly on work. Its one of those countries which I welcome going to – mainly because of 2 aspects:
The whole of UK has an excellent network of public transport which makes getting around so much easier
And of course.. every one speaks English – albeit in un-understandable ascents (our ears are more accustomed to the various twangs of American English than actual English), but its English, nevertheless.

There is something about UK which makes you fall in love with it. The brash ugliness of London, the Punjabi and Pakistani cabbies who play pathetic 1980’s Bollywood music and seemingly enjoy it, the breathtaking country side, the polite elderly folk, the funky hair styles, the cockney ascents, the weird sense of humour, the option of having something veggie in every eating joint, the heritage sites, the museums, the art, the ambience, the atmosphere.. the essence of everything that is English.

They are aware of the very love – hate relationship that we have as Indians and English. They ruled over us for 250 years. They literally raped the country and did damage so irreparable that we are still struggling after nearly 6 decades of independence. But they are one of the main reasons for a lot of our successes – the railways were their gift, we pride ourselves at our English speaking capabilities and it’s because of them. UK has the 2nd largest diaspora of Indian community in the West, the other being in USA.

So, I guess we don’t hate them too much today even if our ancestors died to get them rid of our country. I am kind of confused now… this is not what I set out to write… but I need to go where the keyboard takes me…

If US or UK impose sanctions on India and Indians working in their countries of their work getting shipped off to India, aren’t they also fighting a similar kind of battle as we did half a century ago? Isn’t it their battle for survival as their people lose jobs to smarter, cheaper Indians? When we threw them out of the country even though they did some good things (amongst many bad things) why do we still expect them to accept us rendering them jobless and homeless, just because we provide cheaper alternatives to their natives. I guess it all finally comes down to Karma. We do unto them as they did unto us and someone else will do unto us.. till we weep… I just hope that doesn’t happen in my lifetime.

After that small digression, let’s get back to scenic Britain.

The country still has an aura around it. It still has a glamourous royal family, a palace and all that. We also have them in India, but they are called Oberoi Uday Vilas and a bunch of other 5 star hotel names. They have rolling grasslands…we have them too – just that you may find people defecating in the thickness of the grass. They have beautiful rivers… small ones, but oh so romantic. We have Ganga where we apparently can see corpses floating around. We have so much beauty in India, but so less of it is unpolluted. We would have to travel to remote areas of Leh, Laddakh, the Himalayas to see the majestic beauty of India. But in UK, its just strewn around.. all over the place, in the city centre, on the outskirts of the city, in villages, in remoteness and in population.

But the one thing that keeps Indians in UK, is simply the pace and quality of life. As told to me by my friends living there, its not that we miss India, its just that the things we would miss about UK are more essential to our lives. The quality of lives, the atmosphere in which children are brought up, the time that parents get to spend with children (thanks to flexi hours and a strict line between professional and personal life) – something so sorely missing in India within my generation and of course the money.

I would still not consider leaving India to settle else where, I consider such people traitors, but then, who am I but a common man… and my views really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Maybe a few years down the line, priorities change and I would settle in some far away land just because life is so much more convenient there....... maybe.

The Departed

2009-10-06T20:00:00.000+05:30

The call came at 00:30. I cut it… who the hell calls at 12:30!! The phone rang again in a couple of seconds. Through blurry eyes I saw the caller ID – it was Mom.. what’s up.. why is she calling me now… something wrong with dad… no … if that were the case, mom wouldn’t be in a position to call me… so then what was it.. was it ammamma..all these thoughts running through my head in a matter of nanoseconds. I pick up the call and mom says “appotten marichu” (appottan is dead). That moment was like déjàvu. I had gone through something like this a couple of years back when lakshmiettathi passed away.

It’s a feeling of immense relief coupled with unimaginable sadness and an unrelenting emptiness that stretches ahead in life. Relief that that a soul who was suffering and who was the cause for others suffering was now gone putting an end to all misery. Sadness and emptiness because the soul was close to me.

Appottan is an uncle of my mother’s. He was a peculiar character. A very handsome man. That’s the first thing that struck you about him. In fact till I was old enough to be told by my mom, I actually believed he was British. He was fairer than most Malayalees, he only spoke English and I though he was very refined. He was not one of those old people that you could cuddle up to and get all grandfatherly with. At least not every one could, but somehow he and I shared a special relationship. Apparently, when I was small, I used to go to him (leaving all other people in the house) and ask for food when I was hungry. Legend goes that he actually used to be so concerned that he went about making every ones life hell till I got fed. Even as he grew old and I grew wise and I knew that not all was so great about this old man.. I always felt a weird kinship with him. I was the only one, I think who had the freedom to run my hands through his porcupine sharp crew cut silver mane. I think I was one of those very rare people with whom he exchanged pleasantries over the phone. I may not be exaggerating if I thought (maybe incorrectly) but I though so, nevertheless, that I was one of the few people in the world that he actually cared about.

I reached Mumbai that afternoon and saw his body in an icebox. A momentary binge of emotions, a few tears and then I was down to business. It was a house with a dead body. There was lots to do, places to clean, people to comfort, tea to be served, phones to be attended. I flung myself into all these tasks and the body lying in the front room was temporarily pushed to a secondary place.. it was not priority anymore… seems strange… but once a person is dead and if that person is not someone whom you saw everyday or spoke to everyday – then its very easy to get over their absence. It seems heartless, it seems cruel, but it’s the truth. It’s the people who are left behind and whom you have to face in future who become your immediate concern. How will they do, how will they manage, will they be all right….

All said and done, it was time for the final goodbyes. This is a moment when I wish I were a man… because they somehow seem to be genetically built to resist tears as far as possible. All of a sudden this realization dons on me that the white haired British demeanored gentleman, one of those few people on earth to love me, is gone and is never coming back. When I return to that home again, his seat on the couch will be empty.. even with someone else physically there… it will still be empty. He will not be there to tell me… see you next time.. call when you get time.. take care…
The tight inner circle of female relatives who pay last homage burst into tears. Everything is bearable but the sight of a grieving widow seeing her husband of 45 years for the last time…. It doesn’t matter how strong you are… it’s a sight you cannot take..

The body is taken away, the family is dragged away and in a few moments the body will turn to dust. It’s then, no matter how many deaths you have seen and how well insulated you think your heart is to such matters of emotion, it’s precisely at such moments you realize what a precious, beautiful bubble like quality life is…. You never know when the buddle bursts and all that’s left is a popping sound and then….. thin air.

I'm an untouchable!!

2009-09-27T21:13:00.002+05:30

The subject of untouchability has been at the very heart of Indian “culture”. As a part of our great 5000 year old culture and tradition, we propagate, even in this time and age, a certain amount of untouchability. This is especially prevalent within the illiterate sections of the society where a person’s caste determines which well he drinks from, which temple he is allowed to enter and even where he is allowed to sit to see a movie. I guess 5000 years of tradition and culture is hard to be unshackled from.

I realized from an early age that I’m also a part of the untouchable society. I’m a woman. By that definition, I menstruate. And as per Hindu rituals, I am literally untouchable for the days when I have my periods. I’m not allowed to go to temples, take part in holy rituals. In fact even people who touch me are considered impure and hence not fit to do anything which involves Gods. In earlier days, this was stretched to the extreme where women were not allowed to enter the kitchen, have any contact with others, refrain from touching anybody. I guess, with the passage of time, the growing financial contribution of working women to the house hold and the grip of the nuclear family on the modern society; it became clear to the male dominated Indian society that to keep the women isolated will do them no good. If the women enjoyed in isolation, who would do all the slave labour.. Earn the money, cook, clean, keep the house in order. So the lowly woman was allowed to enter the kitchen and do everything around the house…. But she was still kept away from God and everything holy, lest she makes it impure.

I researched the subject a bit to see if Hindu scriptures actually mention something about the acceptance of such untouchability. I also wanted to know if it’s just Hindus or are all religions equally fanatic about such forms of female domination. I was sure that they were and right I was.
My first problem was laying my hands on the right source to search Hindu religion’s views on the subject. Being a staunch believer that Hinduism is not a religion, this was kind of difficult. Apparently the views regarding this have their origin in the scriptures by Manu. Considering the fact that this guy was of the opinion that women should not be educated or given any kind of freedom, it’s not difficult to imagine that he really would not be too opposed to the idea of declaring women as impure generally, especially when she is having her periods. Christianity apparently prohibits women from accepting the Holy Communion during menstruation, however not many practice it – most women are not even aware of this prohibition. Guru Nanak, apparently condemned declaration of women as impure during the “special days”. Even Islam, for a change, didn’t target women alone. It just considers all impurities be removed before prayers and that includes menstrual blood, semen and vomit.

I understand where the concept could have stemmed from. Maybe in the ancient days, there were no effective ways of keeping a woman clean during menses - they hadn’t discovered sanitary napkins and tampons then, I guess. So maybe a woman walking about would not leave the best trail. So it would have made sense to keep a woman isolated to a room so that she doesn’t cover the house and surroundings with her menstrual blood. Also I would like to assume that they she was forbidden from house work was because she was maybe considered weak due to blood loss and stomach cramps to actually be productive around the house. I rather like that theory. So maybe it all started innocently with good intentions.

But nothing ever stays the same over time. So the interpretation changed and then somewhere over the ages, women became impure. I so abhor the thought and concept. Imagine someone telling you that you are impure. Believe me it’s the most insulting scenario you can face. It’s worse than racism – I think. I have in many instances entered temples when I’ve had periods. Unless God has already ruled eternal damnation for me and he is waiting for the right time to unleash his forces on me, I don’t think either God or I have been negatively affected by me entering his abode. The worse thing I think is that women strongly believe this concept and they alienate themselves from religious ceremonies when they are in their cycles. I think if we insist on being backward in our thoughts, next we can start actively practicing child marriages, sati cremations and all those wonderful concepts of our 5000 year old culture and tradition.

A, B, C...Z and Some Extras...

2009-08-10T06:12:00.000+05:30

There is a very famous piece of dialogue in Namak Halal (1982) starring AB, which is “I can talk English, I can walk English, I can laugh English because English is a very funny language”. I agree with AB on this one. English is indeed a very funny language. I’m not talking about the spoken language. That’s funny all right, but it’s a topic for another time. What interests me more after my travels around the worlds, is the use of English alphabets, or let’s say the Latin alphabets. India being a country which has such a wide variety languages and an equally tall order of scripts, we have never had to use the English language to express our linguistic thoughts. We would use English to type out our Hindi sms’s or to communicate our Regional movie names!! There is no other reason to use English alphabets other than when we are communicating in English. However, this is no so in other parts of the world.

In Netherlands, the official language is Dutch. They have all the alphabets of English (I think) and an extra one “ij” – pronounced “I” or a “Y’ makes you wonder the plight of the “j”. How redundant would it be feeling! So Rijwijk becomes Rywiek. By the way, the Dutch are crazy about their “ij’s”. They pronounce the “G” as “Kh”, so for example “Gratis” meaning free, becomes “Khratis”. And that’s not all, the “Kh” has come from the base of your throat – as if you are gathering all the phlegm you have been storing in your chest. They call “I’ as “E” – so Identity becomes Edentity. They also pronounce “V” as “F”, so you have Vincent Van Gogh which is pronounced Fincent Faan Khoh.

Then there is Poland and its obsession with “z”. In most cultures that I enter, I at least get the basics. This was one language which is beyond my comprehension. How can it be… every 2nd letter is “Z”. So I went to this place spelt Gorzyce and it was called Gorzhitca. I went to another place spelt Wroclaw and it was called Wratsvav. J is called “Y”. Apparently its just in English that J is called J as in Jack and Just and Jug. So Jaeck is called Yacek. There are a lot of other names which I don’t know how to write or read… so just leave it at that, that I will not be speaking Polish any time soon.

My latest fascination is with Spanish. And let me tell you, it is as funny a language as AB thought English was. One of those rare moments when AB measures upto me…..

Anyway “H” is normally silent, but is used abundantly. J is H, L is Y, Q is K and above all is “X”. I have never seen a language so much in love with the letter. They use it in the name of every city. But it is either silent or called H. So let me give you a few examples. Hugo is Ugo. Jorge is Horhe. Padillo is Padiyo and of course Mexico is Mehico, A son is called Hijo and is pronounced Eho and a daughter is called Hija and is pronounced Eha… Sounds like Indian war cries Eho… Eha…..And you can’t imagine the number of cities with X in them. Lets c Mexico city, Acamixtla, Acaxochitlan, Calixtlahuaca, Doxey, Panixtlahuaca…. The list goes on. I think Mexico is the country with the largest number of cities starting with X……

Waiting for more cities and more languages……..will update you….

Little Venice

2009-08-03T07:51:00.007+05:30

I never really did think too much about travelogues. Who would anyway be interested in reading some strangers’ tour of a strange country? If there were pictures to look at … now that’s a different story. So it’s with extremely realistic views of the diminutive readership of the following account, that I begin my blog.

I was in Venezuela for a week on work. It’s at times like this that I love my work. How else do you think I would have ever got to see an exotic country like Venezuela?
Anyway it was one of the most interesting trips I have made abroad. The country totally belied my expectations. I thought it would be a typical banana republic – blacks, civil wars, unsafe streets and all.

I was pleasantly surprised. It is a country endowed with a lot of natural resources and people who have the capabilities to exploit the resources for the development of the country. It reminded me so much of India.

The country is warm (not just the temperature); the people are warm and friendly. They make you feel at home, even if you cannot mutually understand a word of what the other person is saying. I had a Spanish tour guide and between us we had, say, 10 words that we could understand, but we did well. He took me to a lot of beautiful places and tried in his own way to make my experience unforgettable. He knew that I had an early morning flight and he offered me a couple of fruits from the bunch he was taking home for his daughter, so that I wouldn’t have to get on my flight on an empty stomach.
Venezuela has a great mixture of different cultures – Indians (Red), Spanish, Arabs, Japanese, Asians, Americans. It’s a country that is so inclusive..... It allows you to lead your own life. It takes whatever is good from you and makes it a part of its lifeline. You could never feel unwelcome in Venezuela.

The country has a fairly developed infrastructure. Good roads, decent public transport system, the tallest building in Latin America, Parque Central, the biggest and busiest shopping districts in Latin America – mainly known for its eateries – one can find food from all over the world on this street is in Caracas – Las Mercedes.

There are many things atypical of Venezuela. For one, I wouldn’t be caught dead driving in Venezuela – not because it is dangerous. Simply because except for 2-3 main highways, the city of Caracas is riddled with many small streets- very much like gallies in Mumbai. It would take some one with an excellent directional sense, like yours truly, a lifeltime to figure out how to get from place A to place B. My gracious host ensured that he took me through a different route every day from my hotel to the office, just so that I could see more of the city. I didn’t even try to figure out the route.
Another thing which reminds me of home is the weather. Just like in Bangalore, the skies are forever cloudy. Even if it rains, it’s just for a few moments and then the sun is there – bright and shining.
My biggest fear when I travel outside of India is the food factor. I am an eggetarian. So normally on trips to Latin American countries, I tend to lose weight due to – well – starvation. But Venezuela was a whole new experience. I ate traditional Venezuelan Arepas and Chapakas, I devoured yummy Lebanese food, I had a very aesthetically presented sandwich, I ate my filling of eggplant lasagna…. I’m sure if I had stayed longer, I would have had the fortune of eating at least 4-5 different cusines. That is the variety that makes Venezuela wonderful.

Caracas is a happening place, but it is something to be experienced rather than seen or photographed. So my host decided a couple of must see places near Caracas and arranged for me to be taken to these.
Imagine having a taste of Europe in South America. That’s what Colonia Tovar was. A colony set up by Germans in 1840, it is an idyllic tourist spot – has the freshest strawberries and hence the most delicious strawberry and cream that I have ever tasted. However to get to Colonia Tovar you have to go through a couple of pretty run down areas on the outskirts of Caracas. The two worlds that you see in the span of an hour are so much of a contradiction, that you wouldn’t believe that you are in the same country, much less the same city.

And then there is the magnificence called El Avila. Caracas is a valley and Aliva is the imposing guard that holds vigil on the city. There is a ropeway which takes you to the top of El Avila. On a clear day you can see expanse of the Caribbean sea on one side and the whole city of Caracas spread out on the other. I was not lucky enough so see this. But the journey to the top of El Avila was like a journey on the clouds.. literally. It was still a breathtaking site when one moment you could see hotel Humboldt getting covered in clouds and the next moment it is totally engulfed – its as if it were never there. The hot chocolate that you get up there is lip smacking (they actually make it in front of you – not from a machine and Venezuela is famous for its Chocolates).

But one of your more long lasting memories of Venezuela would not be a pleasant one. The government of the country has imposed a forex restriction which is cause for a thriving parallel market where you can get a much better rate for Dollars as compared to the official rates. The market is very much like the Indian stock Market – some idiot sitting in the capital says something and the market falls or rises on sentiment. Then there are talks of efforts which are underway to make the country a socialist economy. For a country like Venezuela which is so diverse and so free this would be like a death knell. For the sake of the treasure that Venezuela is for the world, I hope to God that this doesn’t happen.

All in all Venezuela is a delightful smorgasbord of experiences that will leave you gasping for more!!

The Miracle

2009-07-12T11:06:00.002+05:30

“You are most welcome Ma’m” These words pleasantly surprised me. Because they didn’t come from a customer service executive of my cell provider or my bank or some one trying to sell me something useless, they came from an auto driver – and that too in Bangalore. Bangalore – a city where I have had not many occasions to be pleasantly surprised. I am eternally at war with the city’s auto drivers. They don’t come from Bangalore Central to Ulsoor because its too close They don’t come from Bangalore Central to Banaswadi because its too far. They want Rs.20 on the meter for a normal distance that they do graciously agree to ply on. They ask for one and a half times or if they are really in the mood of a prying hyena, twice the meter fare. On top of all the cash they ask extra, they then jack up the meter. So a fare which should cost you say 50 bucks, turns out to be 80 on the meter and you pay double of that … so go figure, why I love them so much!!
Anyway, that fateful day, I was wearing my new paid of shoes and they were killing me. I didn’t think I could do my regular hike up to Shivaji Nagar bus stop. So I steeled up for a fight with one of the many auto drivers who laze in front of my office building. Most days the word Banaswadi affects auto drivers like the black plague or something. They violently shake their heads and then lose their senses – go around making crazy demands like “150 hota ma…” a bangalorean’s way of telling you that the fare would be Rs.150/- (if that’s not crazy talk, I don’t know what is). I decide to start from the last guy and work my way to the head of the line. But lo behold!!!!! The guy actually smiles and says OK. So I get in and give him the location. He then does something which is even more unbelievable. He asks me if he can take me through Ulsoor, Cox town as Kamraj Road is kind of clogged with traffic and signals… I say ok… the trip is going pretty much smoothly. I keep looking at the meter to see if it’s jacked and there is no indication of that. Finally “me casa” arrives. The meter is on the dot what it should be Rs.58/-. I pay him Rs.60/-, thank him as I thank all my auto drivers – even the ones that don’t deserve it and start leaving and that’s when he says the magical words – “you are most welcome Ma’m” and gives me back Rs.2/-.
I guess miracles do happen!!

The Dirty Window

2009-03-09T11:56:00.000+05:30

I love the dirty window
Encased in unspeakable grime
Giving you a blurred view of the world outside
Giving you a false hope, that’s its just the window which is dirty
And not the world seen through it

I love the dirty window
Silent witness to a multifold of events
Letting you see just enough through a speck of cleanliness
Giving you a false hope, that’s its just the window which is dirty
And not your view of the world

I love the dirty window
A mirror of our souls
Viewing the world with biases galore
Giving you a false hope, that’s its just the window which is dirty
And not your soul!!

New Year Resolution 2009

2009-02-13T14:33:00.002+05:30

Better late than never… Every one makes their New Year resolutions by New Year eve and by the 2nd week of the New Year they have already broken the resolutions. Two months have gone by and it just dawned on me that I have not updated my New Year resolutions.

As my mom says, all I do is copy paste the previous year resolutions and change the wordings a bit.. that’s all.. So in protest I am not going to do that.

I have only one resolution this year and that is not to swear. I have discovered that I have a very “Mumbaiya” slang of talking which includes a lot of the word “saala”. Also due to the esteemed company that I’m in now a days professionally, every second word I hear is “fuck”. So I have also developed a tendency to keep punctuating my sentences with these choice epithets.

My new year resolution is to take one day at a time and try to avoid using “saala”, “fuck”, “damn”, “bloody”, “asshole” and “bastard” in the normal course of life. These, now that I think back are my favourite swear words and though I’m conscious every time I use them of their unbecomingness I haven’t made any real attempts to stop.

I have also surprisingly (it came as a shock, albeit a pleasant one, to me too!) written one of my Oracle papers. So am tempted to put down on my resolution list that I will finish off the remaining 2 papers in the next 6 months, but I don’t want to jinx anything. So it stays off the list.

Pulling down on my weight is not something that I need to work on this year as it has started with a 3 week trip to Poland at the end of which I’m sure I would have lost at least 2-3 Kgs. That’s good enough for a year.

Regarding my talking a lot and trying to cut down on it, I’ve realized that I talk on and on when I have an audience that I know enjoys my blabbering. Given that I spend most of my time at office or onsite at the client location where there is too much work and the audience is not very receptive, my talking has gone down considerably. Needs working on thought, but am getting there. I’m sure by the time I’m sixty I would be mute!

So here goes my New Year resolution list:

I will not swear!

Postivie Action

2009-02-09T21:06:00.002+05:30

Ever imagined what a criminal waste of your time it is to lie in bed or snuggle on your couch and watch movies that preach positive action. No, it’s not the inspiration in the movie that is disgusting. It’s not that there are so many of them for your viewing pleasure that is appalling. What is however unacceptable is your unchanged view towards things even after these movies. I saw a wide variety of movies today – a cartoon, a Hindi movie and an English one. All three in their own way spoke of just one thing – believe in yourself and you can change the world, or at least the part of it that most affects you.

How many of us watch movies like these are shed a tear or two at the director’s cue? How many of us have our hearts soaring high when we see the underdog triumph. How many of us wish for a moment that we were that underdog?

How many of us have the guts and the will to become that underdog?

Let me answer my last question - not many. We conveniently forget that it took positive action from someone at some point of time in history for us to be enjoying our privileges today. Agreed that in today’s day and age, it is very difficult to gather the time, energy and motivation to take time of our “busy” lives to do something which actually contributes to the world that we are living in.

So let’s take baby steps. It’s not a question of doing big things, great things and monumental things. It’s a question of doing atleast something – something positive. Paying the fine rather than bribing the hawaldar, trying not to break the traffic rules in the first place, respecting another individual’s time by not making him / her wait for hours (how often have we said “he is just a driver, he can wait”), closing a dripping tap, helping a blind person cross the road, giving atleast an inconsequential fraction of our salary towards charity, doing something with your life other than eating, sleeping and going to office…. Anything…..
I’m so tired even trying to write up this list as I’m sure that most people trying to read it would be. We can’t even conjure up enough energy for introspection, forget it, we are no underdogs! Infact, I don’t even know what kind of existence we lead?
The sum total of an average life = 0.

Shit, why do they make inspirational movies? To mock our existence!! I’m sure there is some conspiracy. The universe is unhappy at my inertia and is conniving to stir my soul…but hey, its not going to work. No Siree, I live in oblivion and no amount of cajoling, pushing or scaring is going to get me out of my safe cocoon. I know I have the potential to be a beautiful butterfly. I know I have the capacity to make the world a better place with my colour. But I also know that the butterfly has a very short life indeed. So I would rather shrivel in my shell than venturing out to fulfill my potential, lest I meet resistance on my way. Nothing and no one is going to change that! I won’t allow it.
Never. NEVER!!!!

To stand or not to stand – that’s the question!

2009-01-02T12:27:00.000+05:30

I was in Bangalore for the Christmas weekend and went to the theater in Ulsoor which I frequent. This particular multiplex opens every show with the national anthem. Kind of a strange tradition, imitating the Americans who open every ball game with the “Star Spangled Banner”.

But I am a hardcore patriotic and a mushy one at that. I’m one of those who gets goose bumps every time Jana Gana Mana is played and whose eyes tear up every time the National Tricolour unflurs.

So it is natural that when I saw two illustrious citizens of my country hesitant to rise for the national anthem, I was royally pissed. These two guys, maybe around 30-35 years, were giggling away to glory when the announcement was splayed across the screen. Everyone promptly got up.. it is so heartening to see youngsters who bunk college or steal away from their parents vigilance to enjoy some quite “love”, standing still, cutting calls, stopping their chatter to respect the anthem, to respect the country. So when you see people who think that the whole thing is a joke and wait for the whole theater to get up before deciding to get up just so that they are not the only ones caught sitting, your blood boils.. or at least mine does. A pre-trailer of Ghajini flashed through my mind where I was Aamir with bulging muscles and 10 packs and all and was chasing these guys through MG Road and Ulsoor and beating the shit out of them. I thought of a 100 ways to torture them such that the next time they even hear the opening strings of the anthem or for than even Vande Mataram or Saare Jahan Se Acha they will stop whatever they are doing and stand still and maybe even salute the imaginary flag.

I was relishing that thought when another thought flashed through my mind. If India had to police the morality and actions of her citizens and punish them for every flaw, wouldn’t she be like one of the Arab countries which impose their will on their citizens? Wouldn’t the citizens of India then want to flee and resettle in some other country where they are guaranteed some degree of freedom? (Even with all the freedom that this country grants, her thankless citizens still want to resettle abroad, that’s another issue and another blog subject). Anyway, if we were to chase every Indian who said something against the nation or its leaders, that’s all we would have time for – given our population and given the fact that all we do is complain and whine. We would be like the Taliban who dictates what to do and what not to do to its citizens and nobody liked Taliban, now did they??

Shouldn’t we be proud of the fact that we live in a country where freedom is taken for granted to such an extent that we are eligible to give our opinion / advice on even topics about which we know zilch. We can tell ISRO how to do better when Chandrayan 2 gets launched, we can advice the EC on how to hold clean elections, we can dictate to PC the best way to control inflation, we can spit on the PM for not implementing our innovative ways of dealing with terrorism… we can do all that and still walk around without the fear of getting apprehended and thrown into prison for being a traitor. How many of us want to exercise that freedom but on our own terms. When we say / do something, its justified, its for the country.. when someone else does something totally contrary to our imbibed thought process, then we need to kick them in their ass!! Maybe the two gentlemen in front of me didn’t see the point of playing the national anthem before a movie.. neither do I, but my reaction to the situation is totally opposite to theirs and its only in countries like ours that people can have such diametrically opposite views and still co-exist peacefully (for most part).

I love clichés and I love SRK and so can’t desist from quoting a line from one of his movies. In Main Hoon Na, when after a totally unbelievable chase sequence where SRK, who is on a cycle chases the villains, who are in a Scorpio and catches them (man.. aren’t Hindi movies awesome!!) he takes into custody one the key players of the enemy camp who during interrogation accuses the Indian army of being passive and not doing anything for the country. And there is a one line by SRK “Accha hua tum Indian Army ke samne ho, isliye abhi bhi zinda ho, hum agar tum jaise hote to tume kab ke mar chuke hote”… or something to that effect.

Meaning in short that India still allows her subjects to rave and rant against her without starting a witch hunt against them. And that.. that singular factor is enough to make me even more proud to be an Indian.

Mahabharatha

2008-12-01T14:53:00.000+05:30

I was on my way from Bangalore on 26th Nov. Gosh! It felt like a weekend and it was just Wednesday… two more days to go for the weekend. How I wish I had a break, I was in no mood to go to office the next day. Little did I know that God actually heard this prayer.. of all the things that I had ever asked – a Merc, a villa in South of France, an Oscar – of all these humble things the only prayer he heard was that I wanted a break on Thursday. And how did he go about granting me this wish. He killed around 200 people. Is this called two birds with one stone? I get my break and he gets to control the population by a bit. I know I’m sounding morbid. But, I don’t know how else to feel. I am numb.

Like all previous visits to Mumbai, I thought nostalgia would creep up on me and leave me teary eyed. But it was not to be. I looked out of the window when the flight was landing. The sight of Mumbai all decked up with diamonds, or so it seems from up above, didn’t make my heart soar. When I got down and walked out, the once familiar sights, sounds and smells didn’t overwhelm me with the sense of familiarity. Maybe my umbilical chord with the city was being severed – a bit at a time – all thanks to my resettlement to Bangalore. But then it happened - the 60 hour siege on the city by a few thugs who brought this mighty city to its knees. And all those feelings about the city surged back into my heart. Once a Mumbaikar, always a Mumbaikar – what a cliché!!

Glued to the TV, gobbling up every detail that was being spewed out by the reporters, at times wishing they would give updated information, at times cursing them for giving out details of movements of our security forces, at times hating the Muslims for being such a brainless and ruthless community, at times being sure that the Bajrang Dal, BJP, RSS and other forces were the brains behind this and indeed all such terror attacks on the country, at times hoping that all the hostages come out safely, at times reasoning that if it meant sacrificing a few civilian lives to kill the terrorists, then so be it, at times feeling genuine sorrow for the captives at Taj and Oberoi, at times envy raising its ugly head that they could afford to be there and I cannot, at times thinking of the terrible blow this event had caused to the image of the city in eyes of the international community, at times beaming with pride that we had a NSG that was touted as being brave and couteous at the same time – presenting a perfect image of India, at times mourning the death of the dead police offiers and NSG personnel, at times thinking these are the very people responsible for this calamity because of their complacency and indifference, at times feeling deeply saddened by the state of the foreigners who were caught in the mess, at time cursing those very foreigners for being the harbingers of death for so many Indians – civilians and otherwise, at times pitying the government and the decision takers for the immense pressure they were under and the ultimate guilt they would have to carry to their death bed of blood of innocents on their hands, at times wishing I had enough money to put a contract out to kill these very politicians for raping my country over and over again. I was so unsure of what I felt, what I should feel, what is appropriate for the occasion.

There was just one thing of which I was sure, that nothing was going to change. Nothing has changed since 1992-93 – I am not very optimistic about any change in future either. The country is made up of millions like me who pay lip service but lack the courage, will and conviction to actually do something about it. India is indeed very unfortunate to have such impotent children. It’s as if she was Gandhari, mother of Kauravas – blindfolded and mother to a 100 children who are destined to die an ignoble death from the time they were born.

Indian or What????

2008-11-17T11:23:00.003+05:30

It's been sometime since I have written. Yesterday I read something in Sunday Times which prompted me to think. It's been a long time since that paper has made me think... its almost a joke now a days to read the papers. Anyway, let me not digress from the point. The article was about Obama (obviously as he is the current hot topic). It said how Obama, who is part black, part white, part Indonesian, part African, part American, stood tall to become the ultimate icon of America - apparently he is the penultimate American!

This was followed with tales of whether regionalism is relevant in the Indian society or not. Various people gave their views. I being one who rarely pays any heed to what others have to say, have my own opinion about the issue. I always thought the best thing about India was its diversity (translation - regionalism). Don't we brag about it all the time... unity in diveristy!!

It's the fact that we belong to different states, speak different languages, dress differently, have varied food habits, pray to different Gods, have innumerable customs and traditions which are poles apart from each other... its this that makes us uniquely Indian. But do we actually deserve this tag??? Most of us don't know our native languages, customs and traditions. I can thankfully speak Malayalam as my parents advocated the language at home. But I can hardly read and write to save my skin. I am clumsy when it comes to wearing a mund and veshti (our traditional garb), I know the names of all the traditional dishes, but can't cook any, and I have never made a pookalam for Onam or set up a Vishukani. I don't know the history of Kerala. Can I still call myself a Malayalee? I was born and brought up in Mumbai, Maharashtra. I can speak, read and write Marathi. I relish most Maharashtrian dishes (though the state of cooking these remains the same as mentioned above) and have partaken in more Ganeshotsav celebrations than Onam celebrations. So does that make me a Maharashtrian? Thankfully both my parents are Malayalees and both belong to the same community Nairs. So I think I can still officially call myself a Nair. What of those poor souls who have mixed parents say a Punjabi mother and a Maharashtrian father or cross religious parents say a Tamil Brahmin mother and a Manglorean Christian father? Whats to become of these kids? What language do they learn? What customs do they follow? As far as I know, they speak English and Hindi and they celebrate all festivals which are declared to be National holidays by the Indian Government. They celebrate Diwali, Christmas and Id with the same fervour.. they chillax... they have no clue what to do for either of the festivals. They call friends and wish them and if they still have a pure bred regional friend whose parents practice some sort of regionalism, they gather and hog the delicacies and then leave after thanking"aunty" for the lovely time they had. They are none the wiser after the event.

So in this scenario, should I say that if I get angry when someone says something detrimental about India, like Hayden callling India a third world country, or feel proud when I see an Indian acheive something, like Anand becoming the Grand Master or have goosebumps evverytime I hear Jana Gana Mana, I continue to be an Indian? An Indian without an individual identity? Is it necessary to retain that individualism? I think yes, when I have a child, I would still want him or her to know Malayalam, I would want them to be as big a fan for Avial and Sambar as they may be for French fries and burgers, I would want them to celebrate Onam and Vishu with the same enthusiasm that they show towards Valentine's day and I want them to be as comfortable in a mund and veshti as they would be in a pair of Levis, I want them to be as proud of being a Malayalee as being an Indian, but I would never want them to be a Malayalee first and an Indian later. I would never want them to put their regionalism before Nationalism. But them wheree do I draw the line? I somehow seem to have got it right. I am a proud Malayalee and an even prouder Indian. Maybe it's all in the upbringing.

7 / 11 - A View from two worlds

2008-09-10T11:53:00.003+05:30

I have been seeing a lot of movies now a days. Surprisingly all hindi and even more surprisingly most of them good and thought provoking. Bollywood does have the occassional Ardhasatya, Krantiveer, Rang De Basanti etc. to try and pry open the eyes of our dead souls to what is happening around us. They did - momentarily. None of the thoughts depicted in these movies are revolutionary. These are movies made by normal people who live in the same society as us and see and face the same problems as us. These are people who may be better privileged than some of us with regards to money power, but they have the same fears as the common man. The fear of the omniprevalent uncertainity of life.....
I saw Mumbai Meri Jaan and A Wednesday on consequent weekends. There could not have been two equally brilliant movies based on the same event with such views which were poles apart.

Mumbai Meri Jaan tells the tale of 5 distinct individuals who were in Mumbai when the 7 /11 train blasts took place and how they come to terms with the aftermath of the shock. How they pick up the pieces left over from the debris of the blast and get used to moulding their lives around the attack. It will remain as an indelible memory in all their minds but they have moved on in life.... You easily identify with all the characters in the movie, your heart goes out to them and you feel a personal triumph when they get over the terror and return to normalcy.

A Wednesday!, on the other hand deals with the same theme and tells us that we have got so used to being attacked and battered and bruised and have become such great friends with the fear of being killed every time we step out of our homes, that we have become incapable of any reaction. A stupid common man, that's what the character played by Naseer calls himself. A stupid common man, who is so busy in trying to run his life that he has no time or resource to try and protect it. We have become really adept in picking up the pieces as shown in Mumbai Meri Jaan and getting on with life. As he says, there is quite a bit of house cleaning to be done in India and we have got used to waiting for someone else (preferably the "authorities") to come and deal with it. As the old cliche goes, if you want to clean the gutter, you will get dirty in the process. We as a generation have evolved so much that the prospect of even a stain in our pure white lives is a blasphemous thought. You will sympathize & empathize with Naseer's character who is aptly nameless thoughout the movie, only referred to as the common man. You will understand and agree with his emotions. It's just his action that you cannot digest. Not because they were morally wrong. Just because we do not have the courage or the conviction take the same drastic steps. He might have been just another character in Mumbai Meri Jaan who chose to react differently from the other 5 characters....

Don't we all think that keeping politicians and terrorists locked up in jails for decades and feeding them with our hard earned tax money is total injustice? When each and every one of the 1 billion odd of us know who were behind each of the major communal / terrorist riots and economic scandals which have shaken the very foundations of the Indian way of life, why don't we do anything about it?
Have we all become like whores? No woman gets into this particular profession willingly, but once in, they beecome resigned to their "fate" and move on with life, maybe even beginning to enjoy their way of life....Sound similar to our lives... your and mine??

The Indian Writer

2008-09-04T16:48:00.003+05:30

I wrote a couple of months back in disgust after having read "3 mistakes of my life", about the appaling condition of Indian literature. I would like to retract my statements. I have since then read some Indian authors and am pleasantly surprised. Though its only the soft porn written by Ms. De and Mr. Singh which gets publicity, I have in the past 2 months read a few really good Indian books.

It's a revelation to read Indian authors and identify not just with emotions as you can in foreign novels, but with situations and places also.

I have read a couple of translations - both in their own rights were path breakers in the original language that they were written in. It should come as no surprise that one is a Bengali book called Chowringhee by Sankar (1962) and the other is a Malayalam book called Nallukettu by M.T (1958). These book date back nearly half a century and there is so much within them that still rings so true. It ought to be a source of shame for us that the appaling conditions of the demise of the Nair society that M.T describes so lucidly in Nallukettu and the underbelly of Calcutta that Sankar describes so vividly in Chowringhee still wouldn't require to be changed much if these books had to be re-written in today's day and age.

I've read a couple of stark commentaries on human nature and especially the Indian variant. Again these books Guide by R.K Narayan (1958) and The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga (2008), being 50 years apart mirror the Indian mentality that we are so seeped in. You start identifying with the aimlessness of Raju, who whiles away his life and time doing literally nothing noteworthy and sympathising with Balram, who kills his master and runs away with his money to start a business. These are characters that you know in your life, characters whose actions you can justify because you know the "system".

I also read "Ladies Coupe" by Anita Nair, where there were at least two characters whom I know personally and was disturbed by the accuracy with which sentiments of these lives, which are so typically Indian, were etched by the author.

Though I was disappointed with God of smalll things and have not yet been able to get through "A tale of two lives" by Vikram Seth and "The Great Indian Novel" by Tharoor, I have new found interest and confidence in Indian writers.

An interview with MYSELF

2008-09-02T11:01:00.007+05:30

I have not been seen or heard from for quite some time now. So I decided to catch up with myself and probe a bit into what's new in my life.

Q: So, What's up? How and where have you been?
Me: All's well.. all is in a well (as a friend once used to say). I have been steadily grounded to Bangalore. It's been nearly 2 months since I've left this place. It is starting to grow on me now, I think.

Q: What do you mean it's starting to grow on you?
Me: You know, when you have been in a particular situation for a long time, you kinda get used to it. It becomes a part of your life, even the inconveniences. You remember Mohan Bharghav telling the villagers in Swadesh, that it's as if they have got so used to not having electricity that they have started to enjoy it. It's the same with me. Being totally helpless when it comes to going some place on my own, being dependant on my husband to chauffer me around, feeling obliged when a auto driver charges you by the meter, spending Rs.300/- to see Bollywood trash and another Rs.100/- for soggy popcorn, paying Rs.55/- for semi-decent pav-bhaji and pretending to relish it, buying drinking water, thanking the not so oft seen maid for coming once in a while and exercising my broom.....the list is kind of endless, but I'm getting used to all of it.

Q: Is there nothing good about Bangalore?
Me: I'm sure there is plenty good about Bangalore, but I have such a mental block against the place that I just don't seem to be able to see any.

Q: Still, give it a try.
Me: Ok, lemme see. I think it is a place which offers fairly good work life balance. The pace of life here is not as bad as in Mumbai. So, I manage to reach home by 7 every evening and we as a couple have dinner by 8. Thats a rarity in Mumbai. Maybe, due to the proximity and abundance of all the malls around, i have been watching a lot of movies, again something that I didn't do too mcuh in Mumbai. In Mumbai, weeekends were to laze around at home. In Bangalore, where electricity takes a hike for 8 hours every weekend (I'm sure the mall owners association in Bangalore have a tie up with the Electricity Board for ensuring zero power supply at weekends, so that business at malls boom), there is no point in staying home. Also, I have been reading a lot lately. Don't know if Bangalore has anything to do with it, but lets give it the benefit of doubt, shall we?

Q: So things are not all in the well, right?
Me: Ha ha... the way this place gets flooded after a mild shower, I would say things are always in the well, drain, lake, river... or whatever.

Q: Hows work?
Me: Ok, so far so good. Lots of time on the bench, why do you think I'm giving this intereview! Even work wise (that is when I do have some work), its ok. The people in my office here are pretty chilled out and things are going kind of ok. Have some good colleagues, intelligent conversations, lots of shopping during office hours.. so I'm not complaining.

Q: Any changes in you as a person after marriage or after shifting to Bangalore or as a result of your new job?
Me: I think marriage makes you more responsible. If you have had a life like mine with no worries, no responsibilities, no ailing mother to look after, no younger siblings to educate, no nothing, you would suddenly wake up one day to find that the life of this guy whom you barely knew is now intricately linked to yours. I guess no one spells out your responsibilities, you just learn them. Its kind of nice sometimes to care for and to be care for by someone who did not have a direct stake in your existance on planet Earth.

Q: How's health?
Me: Awful. Just awful. Own cooked food, everyday lunching outside and total lack of any form of effective exercise - it's all showing on me.

Q: So what are your plans for rehab?
Me: You make it sound like I'm some kind of addict! Yeah, maybe you are right. I'm an addict of lazziness. Need to do something about it. Maybe when Unni is gone, Not that way silly, wipe of that shocked look off your face!, When Unni is gone to Finland and I've more time on my hands, then will plan out some schedule.

Q: And what about you Oracle thing? Its been almost a year since you blew a bomb on a 3 week course?
Me: Man, you do know how to hit where it hurts the most!! I w'd 've loved to reserve my comments on that one, but just because its you, I'm baring my heart out. I've lost focus totally. It''s been a hellof a year - lots happpening - new man, new job, new place...I'm not justifying anything..Need to regain my focus.. Once Unni goes...

Q: You seem to be hellbent on getting Unni out of the picture! You sure you are not using him as a crutch too mask your inabilities and failures.
Me: You have an agenda against me or something? Why are you being so unpleasant??

Q: Gimme a break. I'm only trying to get to the truth. You don't want to accept it, we can move on..
Me: No..No wait. I'm not a coward. Yes, to an extent you are right. I'm blaming circumstances for all that happening wrong in life now, which is quite contrary to my belief of "One is solely responsible for the mess one is". Its a self-effacing attempt to mask my inability to cope well with situations. Will have to pull myself together.

Q: You have quite an ego.
Me: Me and Ego.. ha ha ha.... Ok...I do. I try not to let it get better of me most of the time.. but I guess I haven't acheived Nirvana yet.

Q: So now that you have told me all this, how do you feel?
Me: I've been talking to myself for the last 2 hours, how do you think I feel?? I am reinforcing the public sentiment that I must have lost it.

Q: You believe that?
Me: You tell me....

The 3 mistakes of my life

2008-06-05T20:28:00.003+05:30

No, this is not a book review of Chetan Bhagat's latest. It is also not about the three mistakes of my life. But, it is certainly about the book.

As a common rule, a book is always better than its screen adaptations. Let me assure you that in this case, it will not be true. Chetan Bhagat has specialised the art of writing movies. When I read The 3 mistakes - I had Akshay Kumar, Tushar Kapoor and Vivek Oberoi playing the main characters and Vidya Balan playing the love interest. I even had all the supporting characters figured out. Some scenes were right out of a Karan Johar or Yash Chopra movie.

Mr.Bhagat is a pretty intelligent guy - being all IIM, IIT and all that. He has caught the pulse of the youth of urban India. Two days after his book was released, it was sold out. He claimes that he wants not to be the most admired writer in India but the most loved writer in India. He will certainly have that love for some time. The longevity of that love is what I seriously doubt. The youth today needs to be challenged. If we wanted a 3-hour entertainment with a box of popcorn, we would prefer to watch a Bollywood flick, not read a book. In a era where the urban youth is exposed to Jean Sasson, Kaled Hosseini, Paulo Coelho, John Grisham, Dan Brown and are being inspired by an earlier generation to read the Archer, Frosyth, Sheldon, Hailey, Cook etc. it is really doubtful how long would Mr. Bhagat be able to hold on to the imagination and interest of the youth.

The story of his book was interesting and it was well told, but it absolutely lacks any kind of depth. It can be compared to something like a Mills and Boons novel, a light flick and nothing more than that. Or maybe that is what Mr. Bhagat was aiming for and I just expected too much from him.

I had read "To kill a Mockingbird" and "Mayada" before reading The 3 mistakes. Needless to say I was extremely disappointed. Here were two books written almost 50 years apart and still had the same capacity to pull at one's heart and then there was the Indian book which also broached good thought provoking subjects like communal violence, lack of entreprenural support in India and the like, but in such a unthought provoking manner.

It is true that traditionally Indian fiction writers have been utterly unreadable. Its just been
Shobha De and Khushwant Singh and between the two of them, they could operate a xxx site. Other writers like Jhumpa Lahiri and Divakaruni are Indians who have been living for long years outside India. I haven't read either of them and hence can't comment on the style and quality of their writing. But, other than these far and between writers, India has a dearth of good fiction writers - writers who can depict our politics, our every day lives, our romances, our hamlets. Writers who can bring suspense and excitement into our lives.

Come on people, we are a country which produced the most truthful, powerful, psychologically valid and enduring book in the history of mankind - we produced "Mahabharatha". Now, as a country we are hell bent on calling a beautiful work of art, albeing fiction (purely my views) a religious text. The characters, their dreams, their hopes, their passions, their ideas, their actions, their quarrels, their enimities, their jealousies - all of them transcend generations and still remain the same. Except for scifi, it had everything. It was the 1st and last great Indian novel. Its been over 5000 years and we still haven't been able to match it.

Shame on us............

2008-06-05T19:51:00.002+05:30

I had an opportunity to visit Dallas recently on business. I was there for a week, including a Sunday. I decided to check out downtown Dallas. It wasn't too great. Just a lot of buildings and not much else. Nobody on the streets to ask directions from, an isolated McD's here or there and a lot of asphalt... thats what it was. It is the 1st time I have ventured out to explore a city which has disappointed me so much. Anyway, there was one sight that i couldn't miss in Dallas. The Sixth Floor Museum. The fateful building from which Oswald alledgedly shot JFK. I had made up my mind to see it and was there promptly at 10:00 AM - when the museum opens.

Now, I was surprised to see the number of visitors there, more so because of the number of kids that were accompanying their parents. The museum is obviously on the 6th floor. It is an attempt to recreate the life and times of JFK. Lots of pictures, videos and an audio commentary of the events that marked that era. It was a nostalgic hour and a half. There were countless occassions when tears nearly welled up in my eyes. I was surprised. What prompted me to shed tears of mourning for a man who was the president of one of the most hipocritical nations on the planet and that too someone who has been dead for 45 years.

What did I know about JFK? Except for his famous saying "Ask not your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country" and his hush hush affair with Marilyn Monroe, not much, I'm afraid. I remember my dad telling me that he remembered the death of Pandit Nehru. The tiny village that he belonged to came to a stand still when that happened. Even young boys who were left early from school, didn't play football - it was as if even they realised the enormity of what had happened. The world had one less ray of hope.

Seeing the videos of the day when JFK was killed, Isaw the same thing in the eyes of Americans. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Everytime a Gandhiji, a JFK, a Mother Teresa leave us, they leave a gap in the fibre of human site that we as an entire generation are incapable of bridging, yet another ray of hope extinguishing and spreading darkness over our future. These were not extraordinary people. These were ordinary human beings, with as many natural fallacies as you and me. It was just their efforts in rising above those fallacies and in doing so helping others to do the same that made them who they are. We as a generation, a species need to come together and fulfil the one dream that these few souls from different parts of the world saw for us, for our future, for our children - the dream of peace, co-existence and happiness.

Mumbai - meri jaan

2008-04-30T14:14:00.006+05:30

Around the world in 80 days - nice movie - aptly applies to my current lifestyle. I have been in Mexico, Chicago, Poland and Germany (albeit in transit) in the last 60 days. I have new best friends, my VIP suitcases, which I'm literally living out of now a days. After all these travels, yesterday I landed back home. I live in Bangalore , but for me, Mumbai is home and will continue to be so, as long as I can imagine.

It is a city of extreme extremes, contrasting contrasts!

There is really nothing that is pleasing or aesthic or polite or genteel about Mumbai. It is one of the most crowded cities in the world. It stinks, people are always in a rush making them naturally rude, is the headquarters of D-company, Chotta Rajan gang and numerous underworld business organizations which are the main source of inspiration for aamchi Bollywood, especially Mr.Ram Gopal Verma. But there is no place I would rather be than Mumbai. I really like Europe and in my last trip to that continent, I even liked Poland - one of the main reminencent centres of Nazi terrorism. I thought I was finally getting over Mumbai.

I landed in Mumbai, yesterday morning. Air India landed in the international airport and we had a free 15 minute bus ride from there to the domestic airport which we Mumbaiittes instist on calling Chhatrapati Shivaji International airport. I was in a rush to reach my client's office and didn't have any time to be nostalgic. However on my trip back home in the evening, I listened to the 3 radio stations in tandem, taking in the rubbish churned out by the RJ's as if they were the most sensible pieces of dialogue I've ever heard. It was so comforting to hear a continuous blast of DhinChak muzik...I sat back in my auto and relaxed that I didn't have to fight over the fare. I sat back and enjoyed the traffic knowing that there is some order in the chaos that is Mumbai. When I was nearing Ghatkopar market (for the uninitiated - a middleclass suburb in Eastern Mumbai), I started revelling in the enticing smells of khau galli, the sights of fresh vegetables other than cabbage and beans (which is all that I keep getting in Bangalore), the colourful display of the latest Indian fashions and fake international designs, people randomly crossing roads, pandu hawaldars (traffic cops) who in comparison to their counterparts in Bangalore strike terror in the heart of Mumbai ever speeding motorists.....the essence of Mumbai. I could feel tears waiting to jump out of my eyes - a K3G tune in the background and I could have recreated the 2005 Mumbai floods.
I realised Mumbai is me...I could be anywhere in the world, I could be away from Mumbai for years but I could never be anything but a Mumbaiitte.... a tough from outside, struggling to survive Mumbaiitte.

Of Mumbai and Bhaiyyas

2008-03-20T10:45:00.003+05:30

What prompted me to write this piece was a very innocuous remark by a colleague in recent times. We were discussing about tourism in India. I thought that the biggest impediments in Indian tourism were the difficulty in getting along and the cheating mentality of the people. Don’t raise your arms in indignation and cry that I’m not a true Indian citizen. What I say is true and you know it from the bottom of your heart. When I as an Indian went to Delhi for the 1st time, my parents were worried to death, because of the reputation that our national capital has earned as being the most unsafe place in India for women. And then there is the famous “Dilli ka thug” image, which even Delhiites will uphold. As a Mumbaiite, I would be shit scared of any foreigner (Indian or otherwise) roaming around in the streets of Mumbai. Maybe of the 10 people they meet, 6 are helpful, but the remaining 4 do damage of gargantuan proportions to the image of the city.

Now the reason why I am blabbering about all this has some link with the tactics that Mr. Raj Thackery used recently to gain foothold in Maharashtra politics. The argument was that North Indians, specifically Biharis are the bane of Mumbai.

My colleague was referring to the rape of a foreign woman in Goa. In recent times, the headlines have been inundated with cases of molestation and rape of foreign national tourists in Goa. The hitherto peaceful place – the one Indian tourist spot that is actually world famous for its beaches and churches – is now no longer considered safe. And my colleage remarked “Saale Bihari pahunche honge wahan bhi” (Those bloody Bihari’s have not spared Goa also). A couple of days back I read about a foreigner being molested by a taxi driver in Mumbai. The taxi driver was a Muslim, but my 1st thoughts were a mirror image of what my colleague said. I was surprised at myself.

I was too young to recollect the incident accurately, but Raj’s his uncle had tried the same tactics a decade or so back and it had back fired. But at that time, the focus was South Indians. With the exception of a certain group of Tamilians (who are kind of world famous for their pan spitting and bath only when you start stinking attitude), all south Indians are generally peaceful creatures with a reasonable civic sense and an above average standard of education. All the offices in Mumbai, all the business have south Indians as a majority workforce. Alienating south Indians would have meant a major blow to the economy of the city and so we still live in Mumbai and I consider myself a Mumbaiite first and then a south Indian, so deep is the sense of belonging to that city instilled in me.

But Bhaiyyas (UPites and Biharis) – they are normally poorly educated, they have nearly no civic sense and when it comes to the absence of neatness, the quality just transcends communal boundaries – a Brahmin and a Muslim from UP are equally efficient in dirtying the place they live in. They are hard working folk. Majority of the life line services of Mumbai – taxis, vegetable hawkers, daily wage workers – most of them are Bhaiyyas. But there is also another quality of theirs that unites them above their religious differences. One member of the family comes to a big city, hoping to eke out a meager living. He finds a city like Mumbai to be an ideal city – he can live here better than in his village. He gets his family, he in addition gets his brothers and friends and very soon you have his entire community living in some corner of Mumbai. It then becomes his private space and there is soon a settlement there consisting solely of his acquaintances. That is how a slum is typically created in a city like Mumbai. Naturally these slums are not equipped for the population boost that is to follow and in due course of time, the resources of the city start straining.

Now, having said that – do we have the right to decide who can live where in India? I thought we were on a mission to unite the country. Isn’t that what India is famous for – Unity in Diversity? Isn’t that one of the things that made us proud of Mumbai? Didn’t we pride ourselves on the fact that we celebrate all festivals that India has to offer because we have a representation of the whole of India in Mumbai? So can’t we accept the fact that India has neat people and not so neat people, people with a high sense of morality and a not so high sense of morality, people with a high level of tolerance and with a not so high level of tolerance? India is made up of all these variety of people, but aren’t we still proud of India? What is a country but what its people make it out to be. And whether we like it or not, Bhaiyyas make up a huge proportion of our population. So how can we boycott a particular creed of the community just because we don’t like them? Did we forget that this great country of ours is a Democracy and our Constitution protects every ones right to live – I don’t recollect it saying anything about living in a state or a part of the country – it talks about the country as a whole? So when did we decided to re-write the Constitution to suit our needs and conveniences? I do agree that from a city planning and management perspective, not just Mumbai, the whole of the country is fighting to extend amenities to the ever growing population – but do we just decided to kill of a huge part of the population that we consider an inconvenience because we can’t plan well? Wouldn’t that make us akin to Hitler’s Germany? Is that what we are aiming for? Maybe we are… maybe I’m just left behind in this race to make India a superpower, maybe I misunderstood or over estimated the power of our centuries old culture and traditions. What use are those to us anymore? We have to be a superpower – even if it involves selling our souls to the devil………

A Temple of Thoughts

2008-03-20T10:45:00.002+05:30

Yesterday evening, I went to the temple. I have been on a month long trip abroad and it felt good to be back among the familiar smells and sights of the Ayyappa temple that I have taken to frequenting every Saturday, courtesy my husband. I am a not a particularly religious person, meaning I don’t go to temples often, I don’t perform pujas – heck! I even forget to light the lamp in front of the pictures of Gods that we have at home. I am far from applying sandalwood paste and vermillion to my forehead in religious reverence. But it felt good to be back.

I thanked the statue of Ayyappa for bringing me back safely, I told the small statuette of the Bhagawati, that she looked good and I was really happy to see Ganesha again. I told him “hi”, I asked about his well being, I did my usual 10 crosslegged salutations in front of him and then I was done. My temple ritual was over. I stood to a side allowing other, more reverent devotees to see the Gods.

While standing there I thought that this is like going to meet a friend. I recollected the joy I felt when I saw my dear friend in Chicago after almost 3 months. The feeling was almost the same. Before, she goads herself to believing that I am equating her to God (she anyway believes that she is God personified), let me clarify that it is the other way around. For me visiting the temple is not a religious activity, something you have to do to stay in the good books of God. It is like visiting a friend. Sometimes I have private conversations with God – I tell God about what’s bugging me, what went wrong and what went right. I thank God for the good things and don’t forget to blame him for the mis-happenings in my life. And then I say Bye & a C Ya without a promise as to when I we will meet again. I don’t expect God to do anything after I rave and rant to him / her. I just have a load off my chest when I get it all out. Now it no longer is my problem, its for God to worry about it.

It’s not as if I don’t think about God when I’m not at the temple. I think about God as often as I think about my parents and my friends. The only difference being that God being a resident of a different level, is not privy to modern communication systems and does not possess a telephone. That kind of makes a two way communication difficult but I communicate to God through my thoughts – it’s the purest form of communications, simply because we are not disciplined creatures, we don’t have control over our thoughts, we think all kind of bull shit and God is a party to all those musings – there is no secrecy and no deceit – it’s all pure and it’s all true.

A few films I Love

2008-03-12T02:00:00.002+05:30

I seem to have a problem watching movies when I’m in India. The largest number of movies I saw in recent times is when I was in Amsterdam, I used to invariably watch 2 movies in a month. I guess it was the process of watching a movie which was totally hassle free – no black tickets, no long lines, no noisy crowds… it was almost like watching the movie in the comforts of home…
Anyway, I am an avid Bollywood fan… i.e. I reserve the right to poke my nose into the private affairs of the stars, refer to superstars like SRK, AB as Sharukh, Amit etc as if they were my next door neighbours, look down on people from other parts of India as I shared the same Mumbai with the stars. I think it comes down to that, somehow everyone from Mumbai thinks that Bollywood is almost their fathers business…
Anyway, this year I saw a few really good movies and movies which makes one laugh, cry, want to fall in love, raises hope and faith and something that Bollywood movies rarely do – makes you think..
So here goes my list of my favourite Bollywood movies:

Jodha Akbar
My latest favourite..what a grandiose movie… worth the time that it took to make it and so well made that you actually end up forgiving Ash for all that she and her in laws made up at the time of her wedding… the film is actually the best period film maybe after Mughal-e-Azam. I’m not comparing the two.. can’t do so as I have not seen Mughal-e-Azam…But for once the war sequences have authenticity, the king and the queen really look drop dead gorgeous… its not a love story… there is a love story somewhere in the back ground… I saw an online pirated version of the movie… so maybe I didn’t see the full version… but I intend to see it on the big screen once I’m back in India. It’s the story of a king and how he ruled and conqured…I am not a historian and am not here to examine the veracity of the facts in the movie… as a movie it is great… if anyone takes offence to it… like certain Hindu communities are doing, stop being so over sensitive to everything and crying a victim evertime something happens… suck it up and get on with life… its just a movie.

Chak De India
I saw this movie in Ipswich in the living room of a VP Finance of a division I had gone to audit, along with a bunch of guys who were more intent on seeing the regional Rugby league matches. It was SRK all the way, but there were many things in the movie that made you sit up and take notice. For example the scene where the girls from NE were told welcome to India, which truly showcases the sentiments of the majority of India even today – NewsFlash – Assam, Mizoram and all those north eastern states that you didn’t know existed – you know what – they are a part of India… those “chinkys” – they are as much Indians as you and me… Above the usual and obvious theme of the movie i.e. one India above regionalism and how team spirit leads to victory.. there were more subtle story lines.. women in Indian sports, cricket over all other forms of sports, how women still think that if you want to get ahead in todays world – all she has to do is remove her shirt and more importantly, women today are ready to do even that – despite of where we boast education has brought us today…

Corporate, Page 3 and Traffic signal
This guy, Madhur Bhandarkar, has a knack for churning out movies which are so realistic that it scares us..We who go to the movies to see SRK in a sweater romancing a 20 year old bimbo and to see Sallu bhai drop his shirt at the drop of a hat… for us to see our daily lives flashed across screens for all to see is terrifying… someone actually knows what filth and grime the “common man” face everyday, trudge through everyday and moreover we pride ourselves in mastering the back stabbing techniques to survive in the corporate world. Who could have though that someone like Bips was actually capable of acting? The bitter realities behind our daily dose of entertainment and the eternal truth in todays world “there are no permanent friends and enemies….” The nuances of daily life in Mumbai…somehow all that we see everyday in our lives and things we have taken for granted, taken to be a part of our being…. It is amazing how a person can put it down on a canvas so honestly and kind of open your eyes to the only enlightening truth “Life ain’t fair, baby!”

Omkara
Except for the “bidi jala” song which even Javed Akhtar is ga-ga about, I loved the movie. The movie is fantastic not because of the story, the climax – it is amazing because of the performances. No-one expects Saif to actually act – he acts and its again a fresh breath of air.. it’s a movie with a story which has been told a million times before – but with a twist – in all the previous versions, there was a happy ending… never before has a Bollywood movie been made where melancholy and tragedy has been potrayed so intensely and that too without having the name Devdas anywhere in the background. The intrigue, the politics, the whiff of romance and the shroud of suspicion…all come together to give a potent dose of excellent worldclass cinema.

Cheeni Kum
What a remarkable change from the movie just spoken about.. so British, so modern, so funny, so ”in your face”…Even the satyagraha scene by Paresh – which my husband was a wee bit over the top… even that was rib tickling funny… and again – the crux of the movie was that it made you think… why do Indians as a people stop living for themselves after a certain age… It is written a certain someplace (I have no idea where) that you spend the 1st 20 years of your life doing one particular set of activities, the next 20 doing another set of activities … all I know is that at the end of it all you are supposed to take “Sanyas”… give up all worldly possessions and pleasures…Why??? Why do u have to retire from work and life? Anyway, the Indian way of life currently is such that you only end up working for the whole of your life.. so whats wrong in living it up when you finally can – when you have the time and the money and no practical responsibilities. Amitabh is a good actor and he reiterates that in Cheeni Kum, but the show belons to Tabu and only Tabu.. its really hard to believe that a 30 something year only woman is still getting good roles in our old Bollywood where women used to come with an expiry age of 18..

Jab we met
Watching this movie was like reading the novel “Love story” – it was so simple – it was so beautiful. I have always been a big fan of the 1st family of Indian cinema – contrary to common belief – it is not the Bachhan family – it is the Kapoor khandan – starting from Prithviraj Kapoor (1931) to Ranbir Kapoor (2007) – that’s 7 decades of filmdom. I have digressed, but there is a reason, my love for the Kapoor stopped with the guys – I was never fond of Karishma or Kareena. But I guess with genes as strong as those, talent just can’t be held back..it just oozes through Kareena’s potryal of Geet. The music is awesome and the fact that the whole world knew that the Shahid-Kareena romance was ending when the film was being shot, made the performance even more commendable… they kids are really good actors… they almost make you fall in love with the concept of Love…

Namastey London
Akshay Kumar and Katrina – not two people I have too much regard for in the acting world, but the movie was really good. I think I am a sucker for romantic comedies and honestly there are not too many of them – at least good ones – in Bollywood…This was a good one.. a feel good movie, the parts in Punjab are actually funny and not the usual slapstick that Bollywood is used to and even with Katrina in the movie – it is a clean movie. Enjoyed it thoroughly.

Ta ra rum pum
Don’t know if the movie was a box office success. I am not a supporter of the popular belief that Rani is an outstanding actress. But the thing about the movie that I actually liked is that it does say something about the life style of my generation and in its own Bollywoody way has tried to send across a sensible message – a rarity in Bollywood.. the music was good, it is shot for the majority part in New York and I love NY… never having been actually there… Don’t know why I actually liked the movie – maybe because I was stuck in a long flight to London with nothing else to do!

Tare zameen par
It’s dfifficult to like an Aamir Khan movie, especially when you dislike him with the intensity that I do. But the fact that I actually think the movie was one of the most thoughtful movies ever made since the early 1950’s in India actually means that the movie is really good. The young actor – he walks away with the glory. The theme was over hyped, as is everything in Bollywood, but the humane treatement of the character by the young fellow, puts the likes of AB, SRK and Aamir himself to shame… that’s a class actor. And maybe quite un noticed, but the actor who played the mother was really good and brought a lot of credibility to an almost clinical movie. Good movie – really long and I didn’t like the songs too much… but the movie is good – no denying that.

Rang de basanti
Awsome movie… Clearly one of the best movies made in India. Thought provoking, excellent directorial tactics and for once a good ending – not a happy one…one that really brings down the message – you may be the hero of the movie – but if you do the crime, you do the time!
Bride and prejudice
It was more Bollywood than Bollywood itself. Goa, Golden Temple, Punjabi weddings, Garba and the London Eye… all packed into one… deadly combination. I loved the movie, simply becase I have seen it something like 7-8 times and still don’t get fed up of it. A real entertainer.

Iqbal
I think this is the only movie about the game that drives the whole nation crazy that has actually succeeded. Naseer proves why is considered the best actor in India and one of the best in the world. A simple tale, told simply – a tale of courage, perseverance…a tale that tells you that if you dream and work hard enough, your dreams do come true… Never a good idea to see a Madhur Bhandarkar movie after watching something like this… kind of kills the mood… but the underdog succeeding is always a story worth telling and if well told it becomes a movie worth watching.

Parineeta
I watched this movie when I was in Coimbaitore and till the climax scene was not sure I was seeing a Bollywood movie. I had never seen such a restrained movie where everything was just perfect – the dialogues, the emotion, the romance, the genre of old time Calcutta, the performances by the protagonists.. everything was so measured – it was almost like watching a Hollywood masterpiece… till the last scene. The scene where Saif breaks down the wall between the two houses to meet his Parineeta – that was classic Bollywood and that was the scene I finally broke into a smile… the director just couldn’t help it – could he.. how could he ? He was from Bollywood? How could he not be melodramatic.. that’s a cardinal sin… but despite the last scene or maybe because of the last scene… it was a movie that should be counted among the best made movies in India.

Main hoon na
SRK, SRK and SRK…. The movie doesn’t require any more description as to why I love it… it has SRK…but the thing that struck me the most when I 1st saw the movie was that it took a female director to make the best action film made till then in Bollywood… It was slick, stylish and fluid.. almost as if Sunil Shetty and SRK were in a ballet of sorts.. graceful, powerful – beautiful… I can’t believe that I just described an action sequence as beautiful, but that’s what it was…And very rarely has a female character has packed in so much oomph so effortlessly.. I don’t care if feminists go on a rampage and say that women are made out to be sexual objects in Bollywood movies… I would be damned if someone with the body and attitude of Sush were not portrayed so…

Laqshya
A movie which didn’t do too well at the box office. A movie again too idealistic and one-man’s heroic effort – but the best part of the movie was the transformation of the main character from a boy to a man.. a change which is both physical and psychological… and despite the bad hair styles in the movie… the Barkha Dutt impersonating Priety Zinta was good…. A movie, which except for the histronics of AB, really measures upto its directors reputation of being a good film maker…. There’s one scene worth remembering in the movie where AB tells the jawans to give a soldier’s burial to the Pakistani men killed in fire and they refuse. He says that we are not like them… kind of puts into perspective the entire essence of what is today called “Indianness” – we are a world apart from the world and for us to try to emulate others blindly is retarted…that’s my opinion and I stand by it.

Swades
Inspiring….an action that most Indians living in the US of A would maybe want to take, they just simply lack the guts to take any action which is life altering…A restrained performance by SRK and the leading lady… no idea of her name or where she is now… but a good earthly feel to the movie.. lent especially by the old lady… SRK’s surrogate mother..a lot of issues put out for discussion in the open.. a lot of issues which force us Indians to think, evaluate our rationale for thinking the way we do…a kind of realistic movie… if you have the money and you have your heart in the right place, you can actually do it…make a difference…. The two scenes - where an Bisleri loyal SRK buys water from a kullad for 25 p from a child at a station and where the light from a bulb lightens the age wrinkled face of an old village woman – someone who has never seen electricity in life – where she breaks into a toothless grin of amazement “bijli”… tugs at your heart’s strings…you ain’t human if they don’t move you.

Kuch kuch hota hai, K3G & DDLJ
Flakey, feel good, life is beautiful movies which have opulent sets, beautiful locales, foot tapping music – these are movies which are loyal of the Bollywood genre by the book…. They are movies which actually make you forget your soddy, miserable life for 3 hours and gives you hope – false maybe – but hope none the less… and more importantly brings a smile to your face… these film makers deserve the money that they make – because they may be dealing in fanatasy and they may be conning honest folk like us into believeing that all is good about the world… but they do the impossible.. they do something that no one in the world has time for today… they bring a smile to the face of millions of strangers… they are like placebo… they make you strangely happy and even energize you for sometime…. Every once in a while, people deserve a boost like that….a shot in the arm to get you through the day!

Hyderabad blues
My very first “adult” movie…the propagator of the “jump and pump” theory.. a cynical look at NRI’s and their line of thnking and a lot of goofy fun… its about a bunch of guys with raging hormones… what else do you expect… but a 1st of its kind of movie that I saw in the Indian – a kind of American honesty.. enjoyed it… is not a Bollywood movie but was widely seen and was a cult movie while it lasted.

Arth
Should be a text book for all aspiring actors in the world… you can’t get two more talented actress in the same frame… Who outshone whom was a major question… a point of debate… music by Jagjit Singh was the first time I felt that even Ghazals are worth listening to and appreciating. A master piece.

Chupke chupke
Who does not like this movie… it must be one of the best comedies made in Indian cinema… Dharm paji really outshone himself in the movie and the dialogues had everyone in splits and the music had everyone trying to be a singer and who could forget that it is the most educational movie… teaching hindi, botany and English all at the same time. Ah – those lessons about corolla, the purity of the national language and the barstardness of English..and of course the poet in James a.k.a Keshto Mukerji – remember those eternal lines “Aaj bag me khilenga ek gulab, pilade, pilade, pilade saaki..ek gilaas julab!”…

Pakeezah
My favourite Hindi movie of all times. A legend of a movie – 14 years in making… I can’t even maintain my diet or exercise regiment or for that matter anything worthwhile for 14 days together and here is a movie which evoked so much passion in the makers that they carried it in their hearts for 14 long years…A path breaking film in terms of concept – “kothe se kabhi doli nahi uthi hai”…Meena Kumari’s best performance. The picturization of “Chalte Chalte” is a lesson in itself. It has the most romantic scene in all of the 7 decades of Bollywood…the scene where Meena kumari’s naked feet brushes against Raj Kumar’s knees…. No skin show, no lewd dialogues and it is still the most erotic scene picturised in Bollywood… that was the directors skill… “Aap ke paon dekhe, bahut haseen hai. Inhe zameen par mat utariyega maile ho jayenge” – the classic dialogue…everything about the movie was outstanding including its title “Pakeezah” – the pure one, for a prostitute…

Choti si baat
A rib tickling comedy about a mousy accountant, played by Amol Palekar, who later perfected the character, from Mumbai who takes love lessons from Ashok Kumar to own up his love for Vidya Sinha. An innocent love story which is really a lot of clean good fun and almost no melodrama… it is one of my favourite Amol Palekar. I do love all his movies with Utpal Dutt which I think are the pillar stones of comedies in Hindi cinema, but this movie is more close to my heart compared to all others.

Sahib bibi aur ghulam
The only Guru Dutt movie I have seen. All his other movies are on my wishlist. Between this movie and Pakeezah I don’t know which is a better performance of Meena Kumari.. but she being my favourite actress and someone who dominated the movie throughout, the credit for the movie needs to be given in a huge part to her. Her portrayal of the historic character “Choti Bahu” needs to be a studied as a lesson in world cinema. The perfection with which this role is played is amazing. If she were still alive or alive in the same genre as Shabana or Smita, I am sure we would have one more name to be added to the list.. I remember seeing the movie and being shocked at the revelations in the movie… makes me feel that we have become more prude as the times have progressed… the song “Piya ais jiya….” Is raw sensuality and it is not vulgar.. it is just the best artistic expression of sensuality… I guess this generation can learn a lot about expressionism from this movie.

Sujata
A issue movie which maybe was not Nutan’s best performance.. simply because she was such an immensely talented actress, that all her performances stand shoulder to shoulder with each other. But the issue that the movie brough out – that of untouchability and the message of equality was tremendously relevant for the time it was made in. The music was really great and Sunil Dutt was eye candy. Nutan’s effortless performance leaves you asking for more. It is so sophisticated …I really think if India and Indian movies were half as publicized then as they are now, we may have seen many Oscar winners due to movies like these. It may not have been as publicized a movie as Bandini.. but I like it better…

My movie wish list –

Movies that I really want to see
Pyaasa, Kagaz ke phool, Do bhiga zameen, Dus kahaniyan, Gandhi my father, Shootout at lokhandwala, The namesake, Khosla ka ghosla, Bheja fry, Being cyrus, Maqbool, Chandni bar….

I have your job

2008-02-24T05:17:00.000+05:30

As a bystander, I have heard and read a lot about the out sourcing business. It is one of the key drivers of the Indian economies. It is one of the main employment sources for the urban and semi-urban youth. It is an instrumental factor in the development of "B" towns, as the smaller towns of India are called. In short, Outsourcing is good for India.

So it is natural that public outrage against India in the US as the main cause of umemplyment was discredited by me totally. Hey, you guys want to keep your costs low. So you come to India in search of cheap but quality labour, something sorely missing in your own country. If anyone is to be blamed for the loss of jobs in US, it is the head of all the corporations who decided to outsource tasks...not India, definitely not my India.

As an auditor, one of my last projects with my previous employers was to perform a SOx (Sarbanes Oxley, for the uninitiated) assignment for India's second largest BPO. As a part of the assignment, I travelled to the hamlet, it was not more than that, of Ipswich in England. The office there wore a forlorn look. The floor which could have seated nearly 30 people was manned by less than half that number. The operations person from India who was accompanying us to explain the nuances of the business to us revealed that a number of people in UK had lost their jobs when a major part of the activities, hitherto carried out in Ipswich, were shifted to India. But the impact of outsourcing didn't strike me then as I didn't know the people who had been fired as a result of the outsourcing and I did know the guys in India to whom the jobs had been outsourced. I had seen only one side of the coin and that side was quite rosy.

Ironically, my first assignment with my new employer was exactly of the same nature, albeit for the largest BPO in India. I travelled to Mexico, to a town called Juarez, across the US border town of El Paso. I tagged along with a guy who would help in the transition. A transition is a process of transferring the process and jobs from the client organization to the BPO. As a part of the kick off meeting, one of the questions that my colleague asked was that he hoped that the employees who we were to interview realised that their jobs would be outsourced and that they were OK with it.

It is then that it struck me. I was nvere so violently ashamed of myself as I was at that moment. True, I did not directly do anything to these people. But I felt like a co-conspirator in a very ugly plot to fire a few good souls.

Over the next 4 days I met the three employees whose jobs were to be transitioned to India to be done by a one or two people at half their cost. A chubby Taurean female with a lovely eight year old girl, a beautiful young brunnette who was in love with everything pink and a lively young man born and raised in Juarez. At the end of 4 days, I had shared Indian cultures and tranditions with them, I had shared holiday and family pictures with them, I had shared meals with them..I had bonded with them. And to think that something i was doing would some months down the line lead to them losing their jobs. The heart ache was reduced considerably as there had been alternate arrnagements for these three employees. But it could easily have been a situation where these people I met for a brief period and who treated me so well and were so kind and nice to me, were unemployed because of something that I did.

I really wonder how can we live with ourselves when we know that we may be the sole reason that a family is in economic doldrums.. someone out there is out on the streets because we snatched their jobs!

In perspective, I think that this is an economic issue, a issue of practicality, of business, of survival, if you will. Its a dog eat dog world out there and we - India, are ready to be hunting down and eating anything that comes in our way.. Somehow, that is not the Indian-ness that I hold in my heart...maybe I am in the wrong century.

Rules to make Bangalore a city!

2008-01-30T17:40:00.000+05:30

Firstly to all people who have the misconception that Bangalore is a city let me dispel the myth upfront. It used to be sleepy little town. It is now a town pushed to its limits – in every manner possible – resources, area, infrastructure and population. It has the potential to be a great city – it has a natural resource that 3 of the 4 metros do not have - a pleasant climate through out the year – a climate which the firang would definitely prefer over the sultry climates of Mumbai, Chennai or Delhi. But other than the climate, Bangalore right now has almost nothing to its credit to make itself comparable to a Metro city – and having malls and bars at every corner doesn’t count!

Roads – Defined as follows: “Roads are typically smoothed, paved, or otherwise prepared to allow easy travel”. Roads are a basic requirement for a city. And I’m not just talking about the swishy inner or outer ring roads. I mean the bylanes, the inroads, the junctions, the corners. Roads should be able to accommodate more than one vehicle at a time, which woefully is not the case in many roads here. Also roads are supposed to be smooth – they are not meant to be preparatory for an obstacle race – which most of them currently are.
Traffic signals – Defined as “a signaling device positioned at a road intersection, pedestrian crossing, or other location to indicate, using a series of colors (Red - Amber - Green) specific movement to drive, ride or walk - - each assigned the right-of-way at a given moment.” Practically unheard of here. Major junctions like the Domlur – Inner ring road junction, Trinity circle etc have poles with lights mounted on them. I presume them to be traffic signals, though I’ve never seen them working. A harried traffic police is normally running pillar to post – literally, trying to get the traffic under control, but human beings have their limitations.
Electricity – The pulse of a city – its power. Invariably, everyday I see the power going off in my office which is located at the heart of Bangalore in M.G Road. The business district of Mumbai must not have seen a power cut for God only knows how many decades – except in the event of a terrorist attack or a natural calamity.
Talk Hindi – If you claim to be a city with a large influx of migration population from around the country, at least speak the common language – the national language. I had this exasperating experience with a traffic policeman when I got majorly lost in the one-ways near Madiwala Masjid and asked for directions to a cop in Hindi. He replied in Kannada. I repeated in English. He repeated in Kannada. How can a public servant be of any service if he staunchly refuses to communicate with the pubic??
Get on with your construction – There are two big construction activities which have been going on for the last couple of years – the Bangalore Metro and the Elevated highway project. Massive traffic congestions are the only output of these endeavors. As both the projects seem to be at a permanent standstill, the completion date is far from near. As a resident of Mumbai I can look back and just see the flyovers and subways being completed in front of my eyes. All the work would take place at night and by day we could actually see results.
Improve your public transport system – Which is to say get more buses on the roads. Have an English / Hindi timetable or direction list of buses and their destinations at all the bus stops. As all the buses carry numbers and destinations in Kannada and normally there is not much sense to how they travel due to all the one-ways that the place has, a migrant such as me truly finds oneself like an alien to the public transport system. I could manage to use the public transport system in a place like The Netherlands where I didn’t know the language remotely and I can’t manage in a state in my own country!
Regulate your auto drivers – I really don’t understand the purpose of the meters installed in the auto rickshaws in Bangalore. Invariably any distance that one wants to travel, demands of Rs.10-20 over the meter charges are common. And the worst part is that people actually pay. Whereas in Mumbai where the minimum charge is Rs.9.00 and you always give a tenner to the autowalla, you expect your one rupee back. A city of character always values its money.
Get inflation under control – Mumbai still rules in this respect – far ahead of any other major city in India. It is the only place where people who earn Rs.10 a day can live as relatively in comfort as people who earn Rs.10 lakhs a day. You still get vada pav for Rs.5 and believe me that is enough to fill your stomach!

I’m sure I will revisit this article to update it as there is always room for improvement – both for Bangalore and for me!

Of dogs and dog tags….

2008-01-30T16:24:00.000+05:30

Everyone would agree with me that’s it’s a dogs life out there. You spend all your life trying to appease God alone knows whom and at the end of it all, you are left panting with your tongue out and tails between your legs with nothing to show for all your efforts.
As if to buttress my belief that it indeed is a dog’s life, there is an invention called a dog tag, also called as an identity tag. Like the leash that a pet owner lovingly puts across a dog’s neck, every man, woman and child who has been institutionalized i.e. has some affiliation to some organization – either for work or study – there is not much difference between the commonly understood meaning of the word and my interpretation of it - has one around his or her neck.

There used to be a time when an employer knew most of his employees. There is the famous story of how the ever great Mr. J.R.D Tata, saw her waiting for her husband, the now famous Narayan Murthy and stood waiting with her so that she would be safe. I can’t imagine that happening now in any organization – large or small. Similarly when I was in school, not only did the teachers know all of us by name but also our parents, their profession and which part of the country we came from. As we have progressed and evolved and expanded and grown in numbers, it has become necessary to hang an identity tag around the neck – as if to proclaim to the world, I EXIST!!!

A tag has various purposes and sentiments attached to it. If you work for a MNC, you proudly wear your tag. It kind of gives you leverage among lesser mortals who are employed in ordinary Indian companies. Even within Indian companies, there are the giants – the Reliance, the TCS et al and then there are the never heard of companies. When you enter a social destination – a shopping mall, a restaurant etc, you proclaim your presence by your dog tag, you command the respect that your employer commands, never mind that you spend all your working hours on naukri.com and monsterindia.com looking for a change in your job and bitching about every aspect of your work.

The tag is quite stylized now a days – there are clip-on’s, there are tags which hang to your belt and then there is the traditional around the neck tag. Identity also comes in nice packaging now a days…..

You put on a tag when you leave your home in the morning and it becomes such an integral part of your identity that you forget to remove it even when you are home. Only when you finally change – your clothes and most often your personality – you realize the presence of this yoke around your neck and you remove it.

Surprisingly even with all the identity tags in the world, you still don’t know your next door neighbour, you don’t know who sits in the cubicle next to you, you don’t know the name of the colleague who shares a bus seat with you on the company bus and to top it all, inspite of all your tags, you still remain as anonymous as ever – no one knows who you are!

Benazir is dead

2007-12-27T22:14:00.000+05:30

I have not given a second thought to Benazir Bhutto for a very long time. Indeed, why should I? How does she affect my life? She is someone I see once in a while in TV and a politician from my neighbouring country. As I believe in total equality, I give her the same consideration and attribute the same qualities to her as I do to the politicians of my country and realistically, thats not much.

So, when today evening mom called and told me that Benazir had been assasinated, I don't know why I felt as if someone had punched me in my stomach. The face that instantly shot up into my memory was that of her in her trademark green Salwar-kameez with the dupatta on her head sitting and chatting on the Simi Garewal Show. Then I remembered, she had kids - I don't know how many, but she had kids - what would become of them now? My mom had her voice caught in her throat when she spoke about the incident.

Why did the death of someone so alien to me affect me so much?

Maybe I felt a pang of sympathy towards her as a woman trying to fight it out in a man's world.

Maybe I felt that history was reliving itself - India has seen the death of every member of the 1st family of Indian politics and we know we will see more. I believe that I considered Benazir to be a Pakistani counterpart of Indirfa Gandhi. They may have been generations apart and I am not an ardent follower of politics - but from a human level I think both of them had a lot of similar qualities. Ms. Gandhi was a lot tougher than Benazir, but India has always been a secular democracy and that does make things slightly easier than being in a Muslim country.

Maybe it is the feeling that I need to feel as a human being hearing of a fellow human beings demise. I'm sure God programmed us that way, it's just that we have brought on so much bloodshed on ourselves that we fail to be touched by it anymore.

Maybe, I was being a selfish Indian in thinking that if Benazir would have come to power in Pakistan, there may have been a glimmer of hope for peace between the two countries. Now that flame of hope has extinguished for ever.

I still cannot come to terms with the fact that she is dead. Every time a powerful or notable woman in world events passes away, it takes a very long time for the fact to sink in. I think it is because of half of the world's population who have the power to change the world, only these notable few come out. They stand as inspiration to the rest of us. With the falling of each of these pillars we get a sense of our world crumbling around us and we not being able to get the walls up and standing again soon enough!

Thats another pillar gone and I am scared because there aren't too many left in the world. Unless I and many others like me who lead protected, mediocre lives decide to build those walls, the next generation is going to be pretty much homeless.......

May God Bless Her Soul. May She Rest In Peace.

May God also bless the souls of the thousands who will die in Pakistan in the next few days in the aftermath of this one event.

Its that time of the year again

2007-12-24T16:54:00.000+05:30

I have preponed my new year resolution blog by a week this year.

A lot has happened in the past 1 year. It started with dejections and some how has also managed to end with dejections. A lot of good things have happened in between, though.

The year started with me being jobless in Amsterdam. My contract would not be renewed, I was informed. I was over confident, coming to think of it, I don't know why. In the next 3 months, I attended countless interviews in and around Amsterdam. I even travelled to the neighbouring country. I got offers - 1 I rejected and all others rejected me. Rejection is not a great feeling. Believe me - I know. Then the day came when I left Netherlands. I remembered the days I used to yearn for home and then I there was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach - I didn't want to go home...I liked my life. But that was not to be.

I came home and I was suddenly ecstatic. I realised the moment I saw my family what I was missing. The next one month was spent in fattening up.

I took up a job which I didn't want to... purely my decision, for reasons that my previous blogs will elucidate. But I met a lot of interesting people - some to be wary of for life and some keepers for life. I was miserable at work, but I had fun otherwise.

That somehow seems to be the story of my life - miserable at work and having fun otherwise.

Then I got married. Being who I am - someone who is not dreamy eyed, has not a romantic bone in my entire being and someone who is pessimissm personified, you can guess how thinks would work out. It was not as bad as I thought, have to give my husband credit for that. As if getting married and moving to a new city was not a challenge enough, I decided to quit my job and change my career direction.

So at the end of the year when I am keying this down, I am in a city that I have come to hate, with no job and no life the way I knew it. Thats perfect... but all that is about to change.

So here goes my NEW YEAR RESOLUTION FOR 2008:

1. Lose weight - This item appears in this list 3rd year in a row

2. Control my temper - This is a new entrant being attributed to my new marital status

3. Be optimistic / positive - This one will continue on this list till time immemmorial

4. Study - Some form of this resolution is always on this list

5. Get a job - This is more a necessity than a resolution

Thats a short and sweet list - very much acheivable. As ususal, will revisit next year, same time and get a status report.

Something to mark the day

2007-11-28T13:26:00.000+05:30

It's been a month since I have got married. That should be ocassion enough to pen down something. But no, thats not what has prompted me to write after such a long time. Its something I saw on my way to classes which did.
The day did not kick off in the best possible way. I was not getting an auto and I probably looked too wealthy to all the auto drivers. None of them would move the auto without a promise of Rs.20 overthe meter. I kept cursing everyone under the sun and kept shaking my head resolutely. Finally the auto I got seemed to have its meter jacked up to the speed of Rajdhani. At a red signal, I was watching the meter with a hawk eye seeing it burn a big hole in my purse, when I noticed a family.
The husband who was following the wife and the son closely was dressed in a soiled dhoti. He had not shaved for a few days and was quite unkempt in his appearance. But there was a smile on his face which is rare to find. It was one of satisfaction, contentment. His wife who was walking a couple of steps ahead with the son was equally shabby in appearance. She had a small wicker basket in her hand, maybe something she carried to work. She was listening with rapt attention to her son. The son - he was dressed neatly in a lungi and a spotless white shirt. His face was clean and his hair was neatly combed. He was dumb - he couldn't speak. He was narrating some incident - maybe something that happened at school or near home to his parents. It was apparently something in which he had excelled. It might have been as minor or inconsequential as him playing with a bunch of kids and winning or something meaningful like he doing well in a class test. Irrespective of what it was, his parents understood him and were visibly proud of him.
For the 1st time since morning I felt a small smile cross my sulky face.
The signal turned green and we lurched ahead. My auto driver apparently though that he was in a F1 race. A few paces ahead I saw another auto. It was stuffed with school children - there are no other words to describe it the scene. There were at least 8-9 childern aged 5-9 in that auto. They were hanging on to their dear lives. Perching precariously and holding on to every last twig they could find it was as if these young ones were on a battle path and it was a question of their survival.
The smile that had just a few seconds back found my face just couldn't sit there anymore.
One one hand I had seen a family - well described as a BPL (Below Poverty Line) family which seemed content and even happy - if just for the moment. And then I saw the future of India, wards of middle class families hearded like cattle to an abattoir.
I don't know what to make of the incident - except for that one of them made me smile and one of them disgusted me to no end.

Dineshaan gets engaged!!!

2007-07-04T20:50:00.000+05:30

I got engaged a few days back. The ceremony was in Kerala. After an eventful journey back to aamchi Mumbai, which was literally floating around, the day we landed, the first task I undertook was to upload the photos of the ceremony to the net and send the link to around 150 people.

The list is not as huge as it seems. These are people whom I have know over the last 6- 7 years. Friends from college, sorry – a friend from college – she is all who has managed to be in contact with me, colleagues from the 4 jobs I have held in the past 4 years, kids I taught, a couple of people who know me more than I myself do, a few relatives… well the list is loooong!!!

When I got the reactions back from these wellwishers, I decided to compile them for posterity sake. Of course, the good wishes and congratulations formed a part of all the wishes (it is at moments like these that I thank God for having given me the opportunity to meet so many people from so many walks of life who actually took 10 minutes of their life to partake in my happiness and wish me love, luck and happiness ). But all of them had a funny line somewhere… so here goes….

All of you are looking great and Padmaja (my mom) looks relieved.

Thank you for the lovely pictures!! You have been point of discussion here, we were all very curious about your engagement.. Congratulations :-) It is good that you're so 'triggerhappy' ;-) now we can all enjoy.

Happy to know your quest has come to a successful end!

Arre yeh kyaa hua......India jaatey hi:-)????

I had the feeling like being there physically in the function. He looks very good.

You look so beautiful in your Indian clothing :-)

What a surprise.

You are forever giving surprises.

The photos are Very Very good. I mean you are looking really good (lady like!!!).
And your better half is also very handsome!

Thought u would be wearing a sari for the engagement

So young…so innocent…. Poor guy!

You look smart when dressed, with mehandi, lip stick and…… I can’t believe

Deee kochee.. karyamayittano?? Enikku randu moonnu fotos send cheythu thaa.. ivied elalm blocked aa… seriously u got enganged?? Ooooppssssssssssssssss

shii.. do i know you?? u sure don't look familiar.
whaaa.. how could u just send me snaps without any background or warning..c'mon send me the details.. from the looks of it he looks like a financial analyst of sorts.
i was looking at the snaps and thinking ' who’s getiing engaged in these pics??" i tght u sent me some relative's snaps.. good that you choose a complete make over.

can not believe .................. u r looking so much girlie.

He is cute, looks like a bachoo

u both look very pretty together. U are looking very sweet

cool pics.. aalaake maareettundu ippo.. kalyanam okke fix aayappo kurachu bhangi thanne koodiyo? :) .. pinne thante chekkan ee photosil onnum dravidinte pole illatto.. athaa profile fotoyude pratheykatha aayirunnooo nna thonnunnath.. any way my hearty congratulations.. ennathekkaanu nischayichathu?

veedoru onnonnara veedanallo.. thaan aalu vallya party aanu alle ? :) ithonnum njan arinjirunnilla.. :)

you are looking really beautiful...couldn't believe it was you..i really liked the picture showing your side profile....you look amazing....your punjabi colour is also very nice.....:) You and Krishna Kumar are looking good together....

Congrats!! Nice catch i wud say :)) you look really beautiful in the photos... enjoy the "savan" ka mahina romantically..

Tu to bhai se ben ho gayi yaar.. Kya lagti hai yaar.. Tu chkni lag rahi hai..Ur fiyance is also looking good. But tu jyada achi lag rahi hai.................

ur looking really very very beautiful masha Allah

guy is looking good...

aake romantic ayi nadakkuvano? rathriyil orakkamokkeyundo? enjoy this period.........its one of the sweetest and sexiest parts of marital life

kenavannae kannanan kothiyavunudoo, convey our regards to him.

Mole dinesha... dineshan adipoli.. oru katta buji look. Mrs.Dineshan was looking so diff..

nice pair :-) details please :-)

nalla sundari ayittundu ketto.

neee avasaanm enne patichuu allea.... ente aaaaa pratheekshaum poie mole dinesha.

chekkane patti comment onnum paranjhillallo, very handsome, oru bujee look.

u look great together......alangu sundhari ayallo. enthanu sari vendannnu vechethu

kutty...adipoly foto keto......sundhary kutty aayi....

photo is very good but u r looking very girlish

adi poli checakkan, paavom

I have one suggestion. if ur fiance grows mustaches he will not have that baccha look. what say
But even otherwise you make good pair. You look typical newly wed (aspiring) in bindi.

You and Krishnan make a great couple. By the way thanks for wearing Salwaar kameez for your eng. Jor ka dhakka dhire se lage--- Ekdum sari pehenti to hamara kya hota.?

would-be cku vishwanathan anand'nte oru chaaya ille ennu samshayam?

Suna hai key, Aap Hamareliye Bhabi la rahe hain? Congratulations..

Its really refreshing to know how people perceived me. The surprise that they have shown in my metamorphosis is not misplaced. You would know it if you knew me.........

Cultural differences

2007-06-24T20:58:00.000+05:30

I was in Kerala chilling and relaxing after being back from the Netherlands where I had been for a year. I was narrating tall tales of my adventures abroad to the naive villagers.

Among them was a government health care professional, a nurse, Leelamma. She had humble roots, was married to an ex-military man, had 2 adorable children, doesn’t know much about the world and was not a great tracker of world events. She wanted to know all about life there. How did I travel, what I ate, what the people there do, how did they behave, are they good people….most importantly the obvious questions – the family structure there. Do kids live with their parents, do they love each others, and are they protective, do they marry, do they have children?????

I explained to her that I had not met too many married Dutch people; I met a lot of people in serious relationships. I met couples there who had been living together for 3 or 5 years, maybe have a kid also, but who are scared to death of getting married or have to even consider marriage. But they are totally committed to each other. They have all that we have in a marriage. I did not get a clue why they were so mortally scared of getting married…maybe it was the sense of loss of freedom.

While I was saying all this she asked me – do they really love each other or is it like they show in movies one night with one person and the other with someone else?? I thought about it and said – they were very much in love and very much exclusive in their relationships... then she asked – did they love their kids and take care of them and I said – yes, they most definitely do.. Maybe their idea of loving kids is different from ours, but they do love their kids.

So what is different between them and us, she asked? What is so important in a marriage, she asked? The question, per say did not shock me... I had thought about that much too often, but coming from her, it shocked me. Here was a married woman whose entire life was confined to an area of about 10 km in a village in Kerala and even she understood the basic fiber of human life.
We get married for various reasons. But whatever the reason, marriage as many people have told me is supposed to be a necessary evil. I don’t know about the evil part, but I think marriage is mainly construed as a hedging mechanism. It hedges the risk of you, well, dying alone. The risk is still ever present, but we try and hedge it. So, I guess in the real scheme of things, when two people love each other or care for each other, it is a matter of the heart, is there a necessity to legalise the relationship?

As Leelamma said, what a man and a woman do in the cover of darkness in the privacy of their bedroom remains the same – marriage or no marriage... so what is the big deal!!!

In another instance, I was walking towards the bus stop, one hot, humid, sultry afternoon. I was cursing the heavy jeans and the T-shirt I was wearing... Man, it was so hot!!! And then I saw a couple of Muslim women walk past me clad in black burkhas! And momentarily my thought was , are these people crazy, how can they wear all that black and cover themselves head to toe in such heat. What kind of religion teaches them that? I was convinced that they are crazy.

Anyway I caught my bus and once comfortable inside; I was gazing out the window and saw a couple of firangs. They were clad in stringed nothings and I thought to myself – what shamelessness. How can they be so…..prude?? How can they wear almost nothing and still be comfortable.

Then I realized what I was thinking now as against what I had been thinking just a few minutes back. I thought the Muslim women were crazy to be over dressed and the white people were shameless to be so under clad. When did anyone make me an authority on dressing norms? Where is it written that what I was wearing was appropriate?

The realization stuck me very hard that it was not just me who thought likewise. A whole bunch of Indians … why limit myself to Indians, a whole bunch of people in the world think on these lines…It is so silly that a race as evolved as the human race still fights or judges others on matters as trivial as what you wear. If a girl wears low waist jeans she’s got to be a bitch, if a guy wears a floral shirt, he is gay for sure!

When do we actually break out of the confines of our petty thoughts? When do we actually become the advanced of all the species on earth?

No time soon, I think…

Tale of 2 lives

2007-06-08T19:16:00.000+05:30

Sometimes years go by before something noteworthy happens in your life and sometimes things just happen so fast that you don’t have time to note them..

In the past 12 months, my own life has just zipped past me and looking back it seems like one of those mega starrer Bollywood dish out – something like "Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham" (literally). Its just that I’m both the Amitabh Bacchan and the Shah Rukh Khan of the movie, and at times the Hrithik Roshan too.

First I stood up to my principles of working for job satisfaction by taking up a job in a small firm in Mumbai. I put forward my family and the quality of my prospective work to the money that I was going to earn.

Then I backed out on those very principles, because, hey – I’m human and hence inherently greedy. I took up a job which paid me a lot more, guaranteed total brain numbness and took me to Europe.

I left my friends and family and it was here that the Bollywood part of my life comes into play. Tears galore. Heart breaks abundant. But still – one has to go…

Once in Europe, I was almost living my dreams, just almost. I had found a most wonderous group of friends. I traveled and partied and had fun. I saw Buckingham palace and climbed the Pisa tower. I played kai kotti kali, margam kali, went dressed in a sari to a James bond theme party, toured the famed Amsterdam “De Wall” - red light area….it was almost a dream.

The only thing which made it otherwise was the mundane activity of going to office everyday and doing something which added absolutely no value to anything in the world. But as I said before I had already given up my principles.

Then the world literally comes crashing down on me…I discover that my contract is not renewed. It comes as an instant pain and relief. Pain because – I don’t know why – the job was not important – all that the job was giving me certainly was. The financial strength, the European life… I was beginning to like and enjoy it all. Then there ensued a typical melodramatic sequence of me attending something like a dozen interviews in a foreign country which was becoming more and more alienated from me everyday. Rejections and more rejections – they became my constant companion in those last few days in Europe.

My last day in Amsterdam was almost as painful as the one 274 days before when I left India. I could have won an Oscar over that scene, the only thing being that my tears and the ache deep down in my heart were real. I was leaving my surrogate families to be with my real ones. What should one feel in such a moment? Sorrow or joy? I don’t know. I ended up watching 3 movies back to back on my flight which made sure that I forgot the sorrow and was not prepared for the joy.

Welcome back to India

I come with the idea of not getting into the 1st high paying job that I get. But hey, have you forgotten? I’m fickle minded, money wins again. I take a job that I had sworn that I would never do simply because I knew how miserable I would be from day one. And I was right. Or maybe it was the other way around. I was miserable because I had a pre conceived notion that I would be so. And so, whatever the reason, miserable I was in my job.

Meanwhile I bought a new car. After 7 years there is a car which my family can call its own and that too a brand new one at that.

And then I also succeed in not scaring off a guy, which means that I’m well on my way to marriage.

Two jobs, two countries and two major personal events.

Phew!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That’s a lot of excitement for a year!!!!! And I'm sure there’s more where this came from!

Corporate Screening

2007-06-02T14:19:00.000+05:30

Yesterday evening I went to the movies. The company that I work for had arranged for a corporate screening. I was impressed. Pirates of the Carribean - At Worlds end - Imax - Wadala - Rs.180/- a piece tickets. I was impressed. I was sub-consciously comparing the theaters, the seating, the crowds to the ones I had encountered in Amsterdam (where in my short stay of 9 months I ended up seeing more Hindi movies that I had done in 22 years in Mumbai!). It was an even competetion. The theatre was plush, the prices of snacks and drinks were day light robbery, the crowd was cool. Modern India was looking more and more westernised.

Inside the theater, I was seated comfortable with my Rs.110/- popcorn and my Rs.45 drink. There were chicks with low cut jeans and navel displaying tops. There were dudes wearing what can best be described as metrosexual clothes. They had the latest gadgets, they spoke in the typical Mumbai English with a lot of "Yaar", "Dude", "Bugger", "I swear" and other choice words & phrases thrown in for good effect in every sentence.

The movie was about to begin. The lights were dimmed.

Then came the anouncement - Please stand up for the National Anthem. For once there was unity in India. All in the hall - and I mean every single soul got up. Babes chatting away on phones, cut the calls. Guys who were loaded with popcorn and samosas and hunting for their seats or girlfriends or both stood still. There was no movement in the hall when the anthem was being rendered. I could feel the passion in the room.

We might speak English better than the British, we might have more gadgets than the Japanese, we might be bigger fans of Levis, Pepsi and Nike than the Americans - but we were all Indians and we were proud of that fact.

The movie was fantastic (if you don't search for a story), Jhonny Depp was so cute and the evening was really enjoyable. But what I will remember for years to come is not the movie or the popcorn. But the moment when a hall full of youngsters, often blamed of being too westernised and being disrespectful towards the motherland - stood up in unison to the National Anthem.

Jai Hind!!!!!

43 things I want to do in life

2007-02-20T20:29:00.000+05:30

Out of sheer habit of searching for all answers on Google, I typed the million $ question in the search bar "What do I want to do in life?". Google was as reliable as ever and did give me answers. Lots of them. The most interesting of the results I found was a site called 43 things. Millions of people around the world have jotted down what they want to do in life.

Inspired by this and for the lack of anything better to do, I decided to make a list of as many things as I could think about that I wanted to do with my life.

So, here goes nothing:

Learn at least 3 Non-Indian Languages - preferably French, Latin and Spanish
Exercise regulary and get my weight down to 55
Learn Swimming
Write a book
Learn to read and write Malayalam
Learn to play a sport - maybe tennis or batminton - professionally
Enroll for dance lessons
Learn to play a musical instrument - Violin
Travel to all parts of India in the next 5 years
Do my MBA from ISB in the next 7 years
Pass my FRM
Get married
Learn to cook like Mom
Learn to drive a car
Buy a car
Donate every year to a charitable cause
Buy a house
Get an overseas holiday trip for mom and dad at least once
Own business suits in 7 different colours - black, blue, beige, grey, brown, black pinstripe, grey pinstripe and matching shoes
Start gardening
Buy property in Kerala
Retire by 40
Start my own business / consulting / whatever - Be my own Boss
Have a daughter (maybe 2)
Learn to skate
Learn to play chess (professionally)

mmmmm ----- this has been lying as a draft for a very long time. Maybe I'm not too ambitious. Or maybe I'm not too innovative or imaginative. Anyway, I have decided that this is all I want to do in life as of now.
In future... who knows the future? But changes in life may force this list to be amended to things like I want to live, I want to be a good human being, I want to be free.......
Maybe.....

Megastructures

2007-02-15T04:07:00.000+05:30

I am a self-admitted couch potato. There is nothing I would rather do with my time than curl in front of the TV with sole possession of the remote and freedom to surf as I please and watch what I want.

Life has been quite good in that respect so far!

One channel which has always been reliable in terms of being watchable all the time is NatGeo. It is really good, well, at least most of the time. One show on it has caught my attention time and again and that is Mega structures. The show is about what its title suggests - Mega structures around the world. The biggest steel and concrete and glass structures made by man. Marvels of modern engineering. Visions, really marvelous and unbelievable visions, ones that change the course of history or the map of the world. Structures which emerge as a tiny spark of idea in someones head, reflects in some vague sketch on someone's drawing board and by the end of the process makes its mark on human society and civilization and stays there for centuries.

It is amazing as to how far a tiny speck of imagination can take us. I guess it is to these ingenious ideas that we owe life as we live it today. All the modern conveniences, right from the all consuming fire to the humble safety pin, all were initially just ideas - some born out of necessity and some out of - well - pure luck...

I am overawed by how much work actually goes into creating these monster structures. The dedication, the skill and most importantly the sense of purpose that seem to possess everyone on the project - right to the guy who replaces the drill bit. Its as if each one of them knows that they are helping in creating or rewriting history. Im sure that is a great feeling - something that gives you a satisfaction of having done something worthwhile with your life.

Not all of us are lucky to be a part of something that is so monumental. But I guess we can still contribute our bit by being a part of the world which admires and utilizes and preserves these structures…

New Year Resolutions 2007

2006-12-29T20:10:00.000+05:30

At the beginning of every year or lets say at the end of every year I face the same dilemma. I look back and look forward and see that nothing went as planned. That need not mean that things didn’t work out well. They normally do pleasantly surprise me, but they just don’t go as I planned them or lets be more realistic , as I wanted them, for planning has never been my forte.

I revisited my new year resolution list of last year. The first thought that hit me was the way my life has changed over the past year. I remember as if it was yesterday that I was sitting in my dark yet cosy basement room in Coimbatore and writing down the resolutions. I was quite serious then. I had no clue that in an years time I will be in a foreign land 8000 miles away from home and without any idea where my life is headed. I feel like one of those floating logs on their way downstream. They have a direction, but not one decided or chosen by them but one that that the river decides to take. They just go along with it. It seems to me that life is taking me in a direction and I’m just floating along – adrift.

Today I heard from a colleague a strange new year resolution – “I want to start smoking!” That’s strange. I have heard people wanting to quit smoking, wanting to lose weight – but someone wanting to start smoking – that’s almost unheard of. But her logic behind it was quite simple – new year resolutions are meant to be broken – so once she resolves that she will start smoking that’s the best way to ensure that she actually doesn’t. That’s the best example of reverse self psychology.

But that’s not my take on things. I think a new year marks a new beginning. Though prior experience teaches us otherwise, sometimes making resolutions help – especially if you set boundaries for yourself. Now if I wanted to look like Ash on 31st of Dec – it maybe stretching my fantasies too far.. but if I wanted to get under 60 kgs which I have not been for the past decade – that may just be achievable.

I see that most of my last years resolutions have worked out except for the obviously impossible one. No, I had not planned to look like Ash – this is even tougher – I had resolved to try and talk less. I think even with such an uphill task I have not been a total failure. I have been in circumstances where my vocal capabilities have not been stretched too much. So, albeit forced by circumstances, I have achieved most of my resolutions.

So here goes the new list:

§ Try to talk less (I am retaining this with the hope that I may actually voluntarily be able to do this)

§ Start reading my FRM book – seriously!

§ Read more and write more.

§ Maintain some discipline in life – I have been forced into it now because of circumstances and have been losing it as I have got used to the new circumstances and have bent my life around the circumstances. Not any more…

I think that is enough for a year! Will see this list again on 31st in 367 days……..

Lone wanderer

2006-12-28T20:43:00.000+05:30

Travelling alone is never fun – or so I thought till I went to London for Christmas. The trip by itself was not too great, but my experience and realisation were worth the trip.

It can be quite tiring and boring to be wandering the streets of a strange city all alone – no one to guide you, no one to share anecdotes with… but it can also be quite a relief. You can actually do what you like.You don’t have to apologise to anyone for talking the wrong turn. You can eat when you want to. On my last day in London I just got into any bus which came my way and got down at any stop I felt like – it felt great (not particulary useful, but great none the less). Maybe with someone, I would have to justify my random behaviour – but when I was alone, I could get as dog weary as I pleased without having to worry about anyone.

I wanted to get a feel of the city and being alone helped me do that. By the end of my trip I was confident that if told to live in London from the next day, I could probably do quite well. That feeling – the feeling that you explored a city on your own and now know it quite well – is exhilarating. Yes, the fact that it is next to impossible to actually get lost in London is a major factor. But still for someone who is doing this for the 1st time in life it is a great feeling.

Living in a hostel, sharing a room with strangers from around the world, meeting new people on the breakfast table, going for long walks with people you have known for approximately 10 minutes of your life – all these are unique experiences. In the 4 days I was in London, I learned as much about Greece and Australia as I did about London.

I shared my room with two girls from Greece. For the lack of anything better to do after you have had a tiring day seeing every tourist destination London has to offer, we got talking and it was a cultural revelation for me to know about how Greece functions as a country, what they like (meat obviously), what they hate (Turks, I’m told), how they swear ( they do that a lot) and a lot of other aspects of their day to day lives. It was refreshing to hear a new accent and generally know a few people without having the obligation of having anything like a commitment towards that short lived relationship.

On Christmas morning (when the whole of London closes down, which I thought was quite absurd. It is London, for crying out loud! How can everything in London be closed??? Anyway……), as there was nothing to do, nothing to visit, I went on a 5 hour walk with a primary school teacher from Australia, who was 4 years shy of her retirement. It was interesting to see London and generally the world from her point of view. I came to know Captain James Cook’s adventures of how he discovered Australia, how Australia functions as a country today and what are their political issues (I was surprised to know that they have political issues!)… Also I learned a trick or two about how to read maps, not that it will really help me. If I openly admit to being a failure in anything it is directions and maps!

I went shopping all alone. Not that I particularly enjoy the activity of shopping, but it was Boxing day and boxing day sales in London shouldn’t be missed or so I had been told. So there I was buying all kinds of stuff that my Dad would have disapproved of.. but see that is the advantage of travelling alone – Dad wasn’t there. Though you miss the obviously necessary company of someone to comment on what you buy and give you essential fashion advice – not that I would have adhered to any fashion advise anyhow… I would be far better dressed if I were to listen – but that’s another discussion all together.

Walking along the Thames and being trigger happy on my camera I had time to think, contemplate and in general, appreciate what I was seeing and experiencing. Realisations that I had not had before, senses that I was not aware of before were awake and throbbing… it was great – I felt alive!

London Bridge is falling down....

2006-12-28T00:39:00.000+05:30

....or so I had heard.

But no siree.. its standing strong across the Thames and it looks beautiful across the river in the night light - its bright red.

I have been in Europe for all of six months and was adviced that the four must see cities of Europe were London - for its barbaric character, Paris - for its beauty, Rome - for its culture and Barcelona - for Gaudi (what else!).

So out of curiosity about the barbaric character, I went to London for Christmas and it was an experience indeed.

First of all, its not as beautiful as is rumoured to be. Actually, its quite ugly in many places. It is a city where the ancient, old and new are trying to stand shoulder to shoulder, unsuccessfully. The modern glass high rises against the Tower of London or the Big Ben at the background of London Eye - it just doesn't gel. The South Bank Complex is one of the most ugly buildings on the banks of the Thames. The river does not hold any charm either. The water is just as water flowing amidst one of the busiest cities on planet should be - dirty, murky.

Secondly, there is an acute shortage of dustbins in the city. After 7/7, the city council must have apparently decided that the most dangerous things to attack the city would be dust bins. As a natural consequence the city is dirty - quite dirty for a European city.

Thirdly, there are only Indians living in London, or so is the impression that you get when you walk the streets. You can catch snatches of conversation in Gujarati, Punjabi, Tamil and Malayalam.. you kind of wonder where all the English people of England are!

Fourthly, you do see its barabaric character - the whole of Tower of London is barbarism personified, the statues outside the Royal Residence - all are reminiscent of the bygone bloody era of the British empire.

Fifthly, the public transport system of London is absolutely superb. It is difficult to get lost in the city, unless you are just too dumb or are on a mission to get lost. This is one area which I sincerely wish India could adopt. The system is efficiency potrayed to a hilt - its almost perfect! The only problem I could think of is that it would be terribly hot and sweaty in the underground in the summer.

Sixthly, though the goverment of UK is unanimously known to wag its tail to everything that USA says, the people think otherwise. There is open and widespread ridicule towards all that is American.

It is a city so warped in its history and so caught up in trying to be modern that it ends up no where. It has its moments but not the best city I have seen and I haven't seen many. Maybe the expectations from the city are astronomical and it just falls short of them...

Definitely worth a visit, but I don't know abot it being one of the most beautiful cities in the world! I wouldn't vote for it.

The Devil Does wear Prada

2006-10-18T03:32:00.000+05:30

How many of us pass through life without ever realising our dreams, most of the time without even having a dream. In this context, I can’t but help telling you about the latest movie I saw – “The Devil Wears Prada”. It was a great movie. With Meryl Streep in it – it couldn’t be anything else. But this is not a movie review - I didn’t like the movie only for its actors or its comic sense or for the fact that I had to pay a lot lesser to see the movie that I thought I would have to. I liked it because it got me thinking about my life. This is not a movie about a person from a poor family or some one who is disabled fighting against all odds and becoming someone. This is about common people – people like me.

The story is about Andrea, a bright young girl who refused a seat at Stanford Law for a career in journalism about which she was passionate. She has absolutely no sense of fashion or style. She is desperately looking for a break in journalism and takes the first offer which comes her way. She becomes an assistant to the editor of the “Runway” which is a movie substitute for something like “Vogue”, the absolute wrong job for someone with a pathetic sense of fashion. Her job entails a good salary, meeting a lot of famous people, going to Paris – generally a façade of glamour. But her actual job is fetching the coffee, making the appointments, doing homework for the Boss’s twins…a far cry from the serious journalist she wanted to become. She whines her way through the first few days of her job because her Boss terrorises her, her heart is not in her job and most importantly, she does not respect the work, simply because she does not think that fashion is as important to the state of affairs of the world as maybe hunger, politics and terrorism. When she realises that she is actually capable of more, she plunges head on to meet the challenge – even though it was never her challenge to begin with. By the time she gets good at her job, which is in less than a year, she has stepped on people on the way to success, lost her friends and cheated on her boyfriend. Her life is good, in the eyes of the bystander but she hates it. Its just not her life and she decides to change it.

Most things in the story are true with most peoples lives. It’s the last sentence that most people don’t follow through with. Its such a simple sentence and still so tough a concept that to practically implement it is by far the toughest thing that most people have to do in their lives.

In the movie, Andrea has one standard line for all the problems in her life “I didn’t have a choice” – till her Boss reminds her that she indeed did have a choice and all her choices gave her the life she currently was leading.

Maybe that is the one thing that most people don’t realise… or, let us give more credit to human intelligence – they realise it but they do not want to accept it. You do have a choice (about everything except maybe death) and your life is a consequence of all the choices you have made.

I am like Andrea – albeit for a small detail – she had the guts in the end to follow her dream – more importantly she had a dream.

I took the 1st job that came my way without thinking too much because I wanted the money. And since then that’s all that its been about – the money. I spent 2 years of my life in a organization which did not respect the profession of audit the way it should be respected. But even in such situations I have seen people with passion, people who believe in what they do, people who put their hearts into what they do. Such people not only survive but they enjoy what they do. My Boss (like Meryl Streep in the movie) was one such person. I can draw exact parallels between Andrea’s life and mine. The only difference being that by the time I got good at what I was doing I left the job for a higher paying one (simple reason being that I didn't have a boyfriend to cheat on and I didn't reach any pinnacle of success, so there was no one I could have stepped on the way). I chose to do that. I had another choice – take a job that I was really interested in and which would allow me to be with my family – the only drawback being that it didn’t pay as well. Now I am in a foreign land – far away from home and family. I have absolutely no idea what I am doing here. I honestly don’t know what I do and more importantly why I do it. In my limited view “I do what I do the way I do only for money”.

I could have chosen to do something that I enjoy and something that would have made me proud of myself. But instead I chose something that pays me well, gives me a good life style but deprives me of life itself. In the end your life is all about the choices you make and more often than not you do have a choice.

Corporate

2006-09-09T23:34:00.000+05:30

The long intimidating unending cold corridor lined on both sides with art (interpreted as weird shapes in loud colours and priced ludicrously).
The uncarpeted marble or glass floor.
The muted lights reflecting off the floor.
The tall white people – mostly men over 6’ tall and an occasional woman - in suits – dark coloured ones – black, grey, pin-striped.
The echo of the heels of their designer corporate shoes (probably Gucci or Prada) clattering in a purposeful advancing rhythm.
The laptops carried under the arms, the sheafs of papers and note pads in folders resting in the crook of the elbow.
The motion sensor doors in front opening automatically so that the suits can continue without breaking a stride.
Pulling out access cards that open glass barriers.
The voluminous elevators that zip one up a 100 floors in less than 2 minutes.
The hushed conversations in foreign accents discussing world economics and politics.
The huge conference rooms with more art hanging gloomily around.
The geometrical precision of the placement of pens, papers, water and of course complimentary chocolates.
The overhead projectors hanging. The myriad hi tech equipment which almost no one attending a meeting knows how to use.
The ominous odour coming from the adjoining smoking room.
The high level (normally utterly unproductive) delegations that normally are good excuses for not working.
The complimentary gifts – pens, shawls, books, mementos, bags at the end of such sessions. The best proof of social engineering which can be evidenced in such situations.
The drawling presentations, the pointed but utterly meaningless questions.
The evening get together for drinks and dinner at an exclusive hotel. The deals that get made – both on and off the record.
The late nights (either partying or preparing presentations for the event which lead to the partying).

This was my idea of the corporate world. And I was not so far off the mark either!!!

Alien in my own land

2006-08-29T19:08:00.000+05:30

I went to the British Consulate in Amsterdam today to apply for a UK visa. I had a bunch of papers with me and was nervous about having missed out some important document and having to reschedule the appointment. Added to that the fact that they take your fingerprints and scan it to see if you are a terrorist!! Common man, I can’t even terrorise my roommate into doing the household chores, let alone hijacking an aircraft.

Anyway I reached the place on time and the treatment that I got there was well worth this article (as I am writing after a gap of nearly 3 months)

First, I was politely told to stand in a queue for registration. Then a fat security guard by the name of Myra came, gave me a pleasant smile, and explained the security measures to me. She took pride in her work but she did not make anyone there feel like a born criminal. After speaking to the people in line, I was called by Security Guard 2 (didn’t see his name). He opened my purse, checked everything and later put everything back in order and closed my purse. I was directed with my token number inside. After waiting for just about 15 minutes, I was called to the counter by a lady who greeted me a sunny smile. A lot of my nervousness melted away then and there. I handed over my documents to her and she examined them. She asked to see my Residence Permit, which was wedged in an uncanny position inside my wallet. She saw my struggle with my purse and soothed me, “Take your time. Don’t panic.” It was as if that was the encouragement my card needed to slip out from the slot that it was cosily stuck. I had applied for a one-year visa, fully knowing that a first timer would get the visa only for 6 months. She probably knew that too. Nevertheless, she undertook to check if I could be given a one-year visa, though both of us knew fully well that this was a futile effort. She scanned my fingerprints. I was told to wait for some time and then I was given back my passport upon which I paid the fees and came out smiling.

Compare this to the experience I had at the Dutch Embassy in Mumbai.

I reach at 8.50 for a 9.00 am appointment. There is a bunch of people waiting outside. We are told very rudely by a guard to stand out of the gates – do not enter the gates and do no lean on the cars. Remember – this is my own country. We are told, “you will be called at 10.00 am”. We wait outside for an hour. Then when we get inside the building, the guard stops us at the foyer and orders us, “Please vacate this area. I don’t want to see anyone around here. Go down and wait.” Either the Dutch Embassy is his father in law’s property or I looked like a beggar – am not sure which one was true. Anyway, we begrudgingly trudge down. There is a small park bench – the kind that seats 3 people right outside the building in the embassy compound. A man and his wife dare to sit down on it. No sooner had their bottoms touched the wood, the guard came jumping about, “I told you not to sit here, wait outside.” They are embarrassed and walk quietly outside. Finally at around 11.30 we are called upstairs where I waited for another hour before my number was summoned. The girl at the counter was barely out of her teens (at least she looked that way to me). She was made up in typical “Corporate” fashion. I felt like a humble yokel before her. She disdainfully took my papers, threw the unwanted ones in my direction. She asked for an itinerary. As my trip was being sponsored by my employer in Netherlands, I did not have an itinerary. I tried explaining it to her. She adamantly accused me of being careless in reading the instructions. “Madam”, she barked, “all this is clearly written in the mail we sent you”. “But I didn’t receive any mail from you”. “Don’t LIE, you did, but you didn’t read it. People like you, I don’t know what you think of yourselves”. I listened to this string of accusations and knew better than to try and correct her. “If you say so and that makes you happy, then so be it”, said I. She gave a look, which was perfect for a convicted thief who had been released from prison and was trying to find a job as a Finance Manager. I finally told her the name of my employer and the period of my stay and then realisation stuck that my visa fees have already been paid and I was there only as a formality. She realised her error but does she apologise? No!! She says in a tone no less disgracing than before, “Come tomorrow and collect your VISA”. I thank her and exit the building. My whole day was overshadowed by the behaviour she dealt out to me.

It was then that it stuck me. Here I was in a foreign country seeking VISA to a country which maybe the 2nd most probable spot in the world for a major terrorist attack - I was treated with dignity and was served with a smile. In my own country, my own land, I, an educated professional who was hired by a MNC abroad was made to feel like an undeserving dog, that too by my compatriot. Then we complain when someone calls people in Mumbai the least polite city in the world. I am a true blue Mumbaite and I am sorry to say that I agree.

Nache Mayuri

2006-06-22T12:27:00.000+05:30

I visited my Mom's college the other day. Among other things the purpose of the visit was to catch a glimpse of "Nache Mayuri". That happens to be the commonly accepted nick name for the principal of the college. Very rarely do we see a consensus between teachers and students over a topic, but they were united in agreeing that this woman was the worst thing that could have happened to their college in a very long time.

One of the old education houses of Mumbai, this was a college which in some distant past represented the best quality education that was available in Mumbai. It was a privelege to be a part of the institution. The standards were very high and the norms were exceptionally strict. Founded by an almost illiterate Gujarati, who unlike others found value in education rather than money. There were stories about him walking on the campus on surprise visits and blasting both students and teachers equally for being negligent on their duties and responsibilities. This was almost 4 decades ago. Times change and so does the management. What the father built up from scratch was handed over in a silver platter to the son (educated apparently). Like most Gujaratis, he decided to make money. He turned his fathers vision, his Vidya Mandir, into one of the most lucrative units in the family business, perhaps more profitable than even the sugar business that they were traditionally into. Then started the demise of this institution. It became a college which was the last choice for average students and the first choice for below average students. The quality of the students and the consequent academic results fell to a new abyss.

As a perfect representative of this downfall was the advent of the regime of the new principal a couple of years back. She is one of the most distinctive characters that I have heard about in my life and hence the desire to acually see her. Let me describe her for you:

A MA in music which is a surprise when you consider that her voice is as hoarse as if perpetually suffering from sore throat.

A principals behaviour should be one that can be emulated by students and teachers alike. A far cry from that our principals character and behaviuor was such as would have shamed a reform school juvenile resident.

Her dress sense put to rest all kinds of efforts by the teaching staff to imbibe a sense of decency in the teenage female population of the college. She came in the tighest and the most revealing of costumes available. OK, you cannot lynch a person for having a pathetic sense of dressing.

That would still have been acceptable if she maintained an acceptable line of speech.

Her classic statements:

" You girls, going on dates and all... lets see where you land in 9 months" - this was told to girls after the festival of Navaratri and a night of garba dancing.

" I went to shit as soon as I heard of the excellent results of our college. Most people get emotional when they hear good news, I feel like shitting" - This was in a staff meeting (all staff included) after the class 12th results were declared.

"You girls think you are pretty, Im prettier than all of you". - This is generally once in a day comment.

Her daily roster of duties:

Sweeping the floor of the college - We do have Class IV employyes for that.

Fighting with all teachers over the most petty matters available - That too at the top of that really sweet voice of hers.

Intruding class room lectures and inconveniencing teachers and embarassing students - She now a days says "excuse me" before intruding. At least things are better now.

Her favourite passtimes:

Arguing with the college sweeper - Raajkumari. Many accept that the only person in the college who is well suited for the principal is the sweeper. Their attitudes and temperaments seem to be almost the same and the jobs that they do are quite interchangable.

Chasing guys who whistle at her. (for obvious reasons)

Sometimes pinning guys to the wall and kicking them with her knees on their groins - quite a filmy way of disciplining young chaps, don't you think?

Its quite surprising how a woman of her caliber continues to be the principal of an eductional institution. Maybe it's just testament to the fact that no one really cares about the quality of education institutes or worse still no one really expects educational institutes to be the temples of knowledge where excellent personalities and consequently good citizens for the country are moulded.

10 facts about travelling in Indian Railways - 3rd AC

2006-06-21T20:32:00.000+05:30

One can be quite proud of the quality of bed linen and the standards of cleanliness maintained. (No pun or sarcasm intended). Even for a people like Indians with a healthy disregard for cleanliness, the compartments and even the toilets are surprisingly clean.
Food from the pantry - hot, tempting, actually delicious most of the times and quite affordable. Obliviates the need to carry food for the long journeys.
Sleep before everybody else does. The cacophony created by the variety of snores, some of them accentuated by the gurgling of flem, is not the best bed time lullaby.
Have a scented handkerchief at your disposal at all times. Remember - when someone breakes wind in a closed compartment, the wind has no where to go!!
Noisy kids are a nuisance - both in general and AC compartments.
Beware of newly weds on their way to or back from their honey moon. There may be action replays of certain scenes which tend to make families traveling with kids uncomfortable - very very uncomfortable.
Always opt for the top berth, if you are upto climbing up. It has a life of its own. Once ther you need to come down to terra firma (though shaky due to the motion of the train) only when nature calls. Also top berths provide the best and uninterrupted view of the scenes as mentioned in point 6 above. That is free entertainment.
Though the standard of people travelling by AC would be expected to be quite high, expectations can be belied many a times.
You can actually enjoy the scenic beauty of the Indian countryside without sans the heat, noice or beggars.
All said and done, a train travel is always a stimulating experience - just keep your mind open to possibilities.

Define love

2006-06-21T20:04:00.000+05:30

I recently read a very interesting love story. It had all the makings of a hit masala Bollywood movie. The girl was mistreated by her folks at home. The guy, who was a next door neighbour saw this ill treatement and sympathised with the girl. This sympathy slowly nurtured into liking which blossomed into love. When the girls family got wind of this budding love story, they put the girl under house arrest. The guy then plans a daring rescue operation. The love birds elope and get married. When they get back, the angry family members blame the guy of marrying the girl only because he wanted to usurp her land and property. The guy goes to court complaining of the kidnap of his wife. Also in an act of instant sacrifice, the guy arranges for the girl to legally hand over her property to her family members. All this done, the family releases the girl and our hero and heroine prepare for a happy married life...... This could have been such a tear jerker and could have been named something like "Pinjare mein kaid maina" or something like that.

But there is a twist in the tale:
Guy: 41 years
Girl: 68 years
Family: the girls 4 grown up kids

A first reading of this true life incident would have you amused. It certainly amused me.

But we have not endured the pain of being in love, the agony of seperation and above all the fear of being ostracised from the society for lending a man-woman face to an apparently mother - son type relation.

Should we term the marriage a sham just because of the age difference between the main characters? The story would not even have been worthy of mention if the genders were reversed. Should we consider this guy a pervert for desiring a woman his mothers age or should we consider him to be of an extremely large heart for wanting to rescue a woman from the plight she was suffering - the typical knight in shining white armour?

Should we consider whether their relation would be merely paltonic? Don't we expect it to be platonic? If a relation was to be platonic, was there a necessity to lend it a stamp of matrimony? Do acts like these mock the sanctity of the institution of marriage? Is all the heart normally desires, morally acceptable? Who defines what is socially acceptable, morally correct? Are any of the questions pertaining to what the heart wants of feels answerable in black and white?

I don't know....

I am just overjoyed at the prospect of love, even if in wierd and unimaginable ways, still thriving in this hatred - filled world.

Rumbling love

2006-06-16T08:54:00.000+05:30

Rains continue to amaze me. The mighty rains are the lifeblood of our existence. Yet, how easily they manage to balance out the imbalance that man creates. One heavy bout and an entire village is lost. No wonder so many civilizations and species are now extinct. I believe that these beautiful, innocent looking droplets from the skies had a very important part to play in the way the world as we know it today came into being.

I hail from Kerala – a part of the country that is known to most people s being the land of paddy fields, back waters, coconut trees and yes – continuous torrential rains. One of the invariable results of the weather there is the delay in school reopening dates. Schools this year were slated to open on 1st June. Rains that were forecast for 30th may landed in full force a week earlier. Parts of the landscape started submerging and normal life went berserk. Amidst such floods, state governments postponed the reopening from 1st to 5th June. No sooner is the announcement made than the rains disappear. It’s steaming hot in Kerala again and there are not grey let alone black rain clouds even on the horizon. Kerala breathes a collective sigh of relief. Kids are pumped up for the new academic year – new books, new bags, shining shoos, flashy umbrellas – they have all the gear ready. Come June 5th and parents and kids step out of their houses – all excited and nervous and they are greeted by guess who??? The heaviest downpour of the week!!! 8.30 sharp and rains have kept their appointment with the kids. 9.30 – all the kids are in their classrooms, all wet and soaked – and the rains say goodbye for now. Its 4.30 – school bells resound in the corridors. Kids rush out as if freed from a prison after a life sentence and who is ready to take them home. Not mom, not dad, but dear old rains – that too with renewed vigour. It was as if the rains were never gone. People wade through the rising water levels and finally swim home. Once all are safely at home the rains sign off for the day. Just like that.

This behavior of the rains can be interpreted in many ways. As a scientific weather phenomenon, rains are season’s occurrences to sustain life on earth. As a pessimist you may view the rains as a nuisance that just lands on head (literally), very much like uninvited relatives, make life chaotic for you when they are around and then withdraw when they please with a promise to visit next time.

You want my take on the issue – a rain is like the love of a parent. They are eager to accompany us on the 1st day of a new venture; they are impatient and anxious till the loved ones are back. Their love can be embarrassing, can lead us into soups, can be smothering – but all said and done their love is just too much for us to do without, just like the rains.

MAIDEN VOYAGE

2006-05-06T13:50:00.000+05:30

India is indeed progressing. Its not that I have harboured any doubts regarding its immense growth potential, its just that the proof that I got kind of over whelmed me. Maybe a decade or more back, a TV per 25 houses was the norm, especially in villages. I remember the times when as a child, vacationing in my grannys house in a remote village of kerala, our living room would be transformed into a mini theater of sorts for most of the village. A huge gathering would be assembeled at the house from morning to watch Ramayan till evening when the occasional Malayalam movie would be screened on national TV (cable was not available then). Now to find a hutment without a TV would be more difficult than finding water in the desert.

So it should come as no surprise to anyone that both the terminals of Mumbai domestic airport are now as crowded or more so than CST station at peak hours, thanks to the variety of low cost airlines, rock bottom air fares, and the upwardly mobile middle class of the society with their ever increasing spending power.

On a day no different than any in Mumbai I was at Terminal 1A of the Mumbai domestic airport to catch a GoAir to Coimbatore. I saw that the airport is not just crowded like a railway station, its just as chaotic and messy. Waiting to board my flight I see a couple of foreigners in their tweed jackets and khakis, a stylish Sindhi woman in her typically sindhi clothes yakking away to glory on a Nokia N-series, a group of IT Yuppies with their haggard looks and their ever present laptops hanging from their shoulders and then I see him – Senthil Senthalvarayan of CNBC TV 18 fame. As I contemplated my esteemed company I reached my seat 17C. I was shocked and surprised and for once I was lost on words (for those who know me personally – that’s pretty rare!!!). My co-passengers are a couple of people who look as if they have just got up from the pavement and have been given seats on the plane! Before you decide to crucify me as judgmental, narrow-minded etc. pray, hear me out. These people clearly belonged to the lower strata of the society and uneducated – a young guy and his mother. They were clean and dressed as they would have on any other day. Cheap sari, plastic chappal, no frills pants and shirt. The woman was so slight, surely not a result of diets and gyms, but a lot of unrelenting hardships of life and hardwork, that she was lost in the seat. I helped her buckle the seat belt. She was mortally frightened when the plane took off. I was scared that she might throw up all over me. But none of that happened. She was quite brave and other than covering her head with the pallu of her sari and screwing her eyes shut as tightly as humanly possible there was no reaction from her. I helped them buy biscuits from the flight attendants who obviously spoke only English. The rest of the flight was uneventful as I was quite busy shutting out the screeching whine of 5 year old I the row ahead of ours and penning my thoughts as they came.

I think that moment when I put my eyes on my co-passengers that fateful evening was one of the moments that I could declare to the world “Hello there, India has arrived on the global scene”! But strange is my country. When on one hand I rejoice at the thought of air travel (once the domain of the rich and bitchy) being available to the commonest of common man, on the other hand I am disgusted at the on going talks for increasing reservation quotas in various sectors of our society!

Where exactly are we moving? For every step we keep forward, how do we manage to keep jumping 2 steps back?

HALLELUIAH! JERKS!!

2006-05-06T13:48:00.000+05:30

There are jerks and then there are JERKS. These are people who actually think that they know better than you what is good for you. These are not the genuine well wishing kind of people – those who don’t like seeing you go down a drain and advise you against it or people who by some merit such as sperm donation, umbilical cord, an intimate friendship etc are related to you. These are by standers who have to advise on every aspect of your life, whether you want it or not. Not only do they consider that to be their birthright, they also consider themselves gifts of God on earth!

I am someone who normally has an opinion for every thing and many a times I do render that opinion without being asked. I have been told by enough and more people that this habit of mine is far from endearing. People especially adults do not like to be told at every point in life what is to be done. Especially when it comes to small things like which shirt to wear, where to take the wife for dinner, how to spend a holiday, what is the definition of a nutritious breakfast, how much sugar is right in coffee….. At a later stage these are the very kind of opinions – brash, rash, unmindful, thoughtless which end up hurting people – though that might not have been the intention of the person expressing the opinion.

I was faced today by such a jerk who gave me a very final and imposing instruction regarding a decision I was contemplating to put into action the next day. Who the hell does he think he is?????? I am generally not a very close-minded person – I listen to every body and I take pains to agree or disagree with views expressed only by people that I value. The rest is just hot air. So it is understandable why I was irritated to the core when someone decided to butt in on a private conversation I was having with a common acquaintance. The issue at hand was important to me and quite a delicate matter. There I was discussing it with a close friend and Mr. Jerk butts in and decides to dictate what constitutes right and wrong behaviour on my part. He had not even heard me out before there was a barrage of what he thought was apt advice for my given situation. I was angry and that is not too pleasant situation for me to be in. This uncouth behaviour was topped by his analysis on where I erred in understanding my Boss or rather why my Boss did not understand me. I had had enough from a guy who did not know me or my Boss from the moon nor did he have any idea of the chemistry between us or the work dynamics.. Anyway the conversation came to an abrupt end and so did the evening.

Later, as I rewinded the event through my head I realized that people like Mr. Jerk had an important role in the world. They are the best tools for anger management. In all situations they invariably end up agitating you and you need to work very hard to control that temper of yours so as not to bash their face into the wall behind. That might well be the best tool for self-development that you can have in practical life and the best part is that they are found a dozen to one and their services are absolutely free. And for people like me they are an added inspiration of what not to be in life. So I guess, even Mr. Jerk has his part cut out in the grand scheme of things!!!!!!!!!

Does God Exist????

2006-03-21T09:45:00.000+05:30

A friend forwarded a mail one day with 4 basic questions which every individual asks him / herself at some point of life or other -

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?

I'm penning my thoughts as they come, so they may be confused, contradictory etc. at times...

Let me start with 2 things I was taught since childhood:
A power called God exists and it is a good power.
God is present in everyone.

Now if the above statements were to be believed, a person like Osama Bin Laden would have God in him, thus making him a good power. This kind of analogy would lead to oversimplification of the entire situation.

A better way to look at it would be by comparing the power of Godliness to powers / qualities / senses like intelligence, ESP, humanity, kindness etc. I believe that mankind - every one of us are endowed with each of these qualities. But the level of development of these senses in us is what makes us different. A variety of factors - social circumstances, upbringing, inculcated ideologies, life experiences - all these culminate and bring out the best or worst in us. In addition, there is a strong prevalent factor called Will Power.

The saying "If I will, I can" is the truth most pivotal in human existence.

If you will the good in you to be stronger than the evil then you can be good. Goodness may be exemplified by qualities namely kindness, empathy, truth, love, forgiveness, humility...Doesn't it then follow that if you are good, you are a representative of God to someone, somewhere, sometime.

On the other hand, if you are weak and give into failure, depression, evil ways etc. then obviously you defeat the very purpose of your existence on earth i.e. to do and be good.
Its not easy to be good but its not too hard either. When you wake up in the mind with a good thought - for or about a person or a world as a whole you have begun the chain of goodness. Every time you decide to smile at someone, to withdraw from an avoidable fight, to fight the urge to bitch about / curse someone you are continuing to be good.

Evil is also a relative term. I recently read in a Readers digest article that when famous news personality Barbara Walters asked a Jihadi whether she, being a on Muslim would be allowed into heaven, he promptly said "no". The same answer was given by the priest of an evangelic church. The 2 people who gave the same answer come from diametrically opposite social backgrounds - one who has spent a life time killing in the name of faith and does not regret it and the other who has spent a life time preaching faith. But to both these people, non allegiance to their religion was cause for non entry into heaven. As it is the evil who are denied heaven, by the same logic a non Muslim or non Christian becomes evil automatically - their perception of evil is the same though they are evil in the eyes of each other - Ironical!

My take on evil:
When jealousy clouds every action and decision of yours
When your urge to hold power and wealth far exceed your capacity to use it for good or your need for it
When your sexual desire over powers you and doesn't stop you from crushing innocence
When you start valuing things more than people or their feelings
That’s when you are evil.

Answering the 4 questions, I have been able to do justice to the 1st 3 questions:

Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?

because I believe that existence and non existence of evil is a purely human factor. I do not see an evil tree or an evil sea or an evil mountain or an evil star. I only see evil humans. As indeed evil is the propagation of humans, it has to be brought to an end by human actions alone. If we as a living vibrant genus will to put an end to evil, we can. But as long as there are a million interpretations to the word evil, there will be a billion ways to end it and all these ways to end evil will be perceived as evil by someone. It’s a vicious Circle.

Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God? - this is a question for which I do not have an answer. This can be answered by an atheist. I do not believe in a power which is neither able nor wiling. I believe in myself and my immense power to do good and my staunch willing to do good within my limited capabilities. If I believe the above statement, then I believe in God or let me say "the power called God".

LOVE HURTS

2006-03-17T09:36:00.000+05:30

Love hurts! It’s a known and established fact.

The moot points here are:
Is love worth all the hurt that it inflicts?
Why do people willingly fall prey to this eerie concept well aware of the pain involved?

The answer to the second question is decipherable to some extent from the social behaviour of man. He smokes, drinks, does drugs, bungee jumps, scuba dives and does a lot of other totally crazy stuff just for the rush he gets doing it. He is well aware of the risk involved and of the final consequence in case the risk materializes. But he goes ahead unabashed because he justifies it as taking a calculated risk. If all goes well he will come out a winner with the thrill of his life. After all it’s a great story to tell the grand kids that your grand parent once jumped off the ledge of a 40 story building.

The second and maybe the most obvious and simple reason is that you normally don’t have much control over what your heart falls for. It’s difficult. It’s like a moth getting attracted to the proverbial flame. It just can’t help itself. When you start liking a certain person for whatever reason – because they are beautiful, because they are smart, because they love you, because they make you laugh, because they care for you or just because they exist… the ball is on the roll. Its just cascades like a snowball from the top of a steep slope. Its uncontrollable and it just gets bigger and intensifies as it goes ahead. It takes every thing that comes in its way.

I love walking, not for a particular reason or not to a fixed place. It is a unique experience when u, for a split second step into the shoes of other people - the young girl standing at the bus stop with a shy smile and a far way look in her eyes, a man walking with down cast eyes lost in his own world, the middle aged, over weight housewife rushing to run errands for the house……

Many a times such musings of mine have led me to believe that most of these people just wished they had someone walking with them, someone to share the journey with, someone to talk to, someone just to be there…Maybe that answers the first question to some extent. If only there were someone with whom I could walk that extra mile of life, if only there were someone whom I could count on to be there when I am feeling down & out, maybe then I would be willing to go through the hurt that love actually inflicts. The hurt that you feel when a loved one ignores you, the hurt when you feel when a loved one disregards your feelings, the hurt you feel when a loved one pricks your heart for something you did or said unknowingly, the hurt that you feel when your loved one promises to call you but does not, the hurt that you feel when your loved one does not attempt to even understand you, the hurt you feel when some one you love loves someone else….

That’s a lot of hurt, but you know what – I think the heart is emotionally conditioned to accept all that hurt and still keep beating. Love is necessary and I guess it comes as a package deal… u want love, u gotta get hurt!!!!!

MILLION DOLLAR DREAMS

2006-02-23T16:26:00.000+05:30

Things don’t always go the way u want them to. In fact, they almost never do.

Every one dreams as kids. There is something about innocence that makes us dream. We dream up fantasies, fairy tales, plans for future, ways to make the world a better place, space travel, marriage, love…all is well dreams. Dreams are happy. We get to be a doctor and save hundreds of lives, or an actor and give the thank you speech at the Oscars or discover a planet and become world famous. We become rich. We are happy. We are always happy in our innocent dreams…our childhood dreams.

Then we grow up. We understand, rather we make believe that dreams don’t actually come true. All those inspirational stories about live saving doctors and Oscar winning actors are just what we thought… dreams and dreams only. Reality bites and bites hard. We cower in front of what seem to us, a Herculean task – keeping ourselves happy and satisfied (meaning food, clothing and shelter). But food translates into Rs.1400.00 a meal, twice a week affair, clothing becomes Rs.3000.00 for a designer shirt and Rs.5000.00 for branded shoes and shelter becomes a 1 crore shindig which hardly has enough space to move around in a concrete jungle.. the price of a fancy address. We get educated with these goals in mind, we work like asses for these material possessions and end up with them. We do.. at least I have. No, I don’t have a one crore flat in Pali Hill, I haven’t ever been to the TAJ or the Oberois and I don’t own a single piece of designer clothing – not even a pair of Levis jeans. But… but I am in a position to afford at least a couple of these things and maybe if I push myself over the edge even the one crore house maybe mine. I would at last have everything and then I would realize that I have nothing.

I was so busy trying to earn and achieve what I though was my dreams that I never realized that that my dream was infact a mirage… it was never meant to be. I looked back over my life and realized that I did not become a life saving doctor or an award-winning actor. I spent my life doing some half brained job in which I had no conviction, trying my best to kiss my superiors ass and getting happy when the pay cheque came at the end of every month – I thought it was worth it all. I did not find love – I left behind all who loved me because I had more important things on my mind then, I did not get married or if I did, its almost non existent now, I did not have kids or if I did, they have turned out to be my worst nightmares, I don’t have anybody to grow old with because I have a one crore house but I don’t have a home, I have designer clothes but no where to go wearing them because I have only colleagues and no friends, I have money to buy the best meals but I can’t afford to relish even simple dal-chawal because I have a hoard of fancy diseases and have to nearly starve myself if I have to live. The irony of life!

Why do we not enjoy simple things in life? When we get wet in the rains, why is our immediate concern the ensuing cold and cough, why can’t we just enjoy the feeling of raindrops washing away all our worries? When we miss a train or a bus, why do we panic as if that were the end of the world, why can we not consider ourselves blessed that God has given us enough time to catch the next bus or train? When we see a small baby smile, why does our though train run to its future rather than enjoying the sweetness of that smile?

Why do we get scared of our dreams, as we grow older? Why do so many inhibitions haunt us as we gather more knowledge? Does wisdom come with resignation to ones fate? Why do we no longer believe that anything is possible? Why do we become incapable of enjoying life? Why do we fail to live?

SAR JHUKTA HAI SMS KARNE MEIN

2006-02-06T09:38:00.000+05:30

Sar uthta hai garv mein
Sar uthta hai khushi mein
Sar uthta hai “coca cola” peene mein

Nokia could follow suit of this famous Aamir Khan starrer ad.

Sar jhukta hai sharm mein
Sar jhukta hai gham mein
Sar jhukta hai “sms” karne mein…..

I say Nokia not because I have a personal grudge towards the company. No sir, infact I own a Nokia phone and am very proud of it. I say Nokia because it is the largest selling phone in India.

The culture that I am taking about is the product of the telecom revolution and more so the easy availability and perceived fashion statement one makes as a result of owning a mobile phone. I work in a reputed telecom company and am sorry to say that I have a hard time seeing the faces of my colleagues… u know why? Simply because when they are not glued to their computer monitors, they have their heads hung smsing someone. I am intrigued at how they always find someone to sms. I am myself a prolific sms user sending about 100 sms per day (they are free). But when in office, especially when I’m out of my seat walking around, socializing, stretching my legs and basically trying to gather some elusive piece of gossip, I rarely think of a reason or subject to sms someone. But my colleagues think otherwise. Rarely have I seen someone in my office walk the corridor without busily smsing someone. It is definitely not an activity restricted to office corridors, its invading the world. While crossing the road, while waiting for the store keeper to bag your purchases, while out on a morning walk, while on the potty (don’t ask me how I know)!!

I think it is a very convenient way to avoid the world. It serves a lot of purposes. You appear to be busy, you apparently have someone to sms all the time (it is a totally different issue that you may be only checking out the handset features or locking and unlocking your keypad repeatedly), you don’t have to make eye contact with the world, you can avoid a lot of unnecessary pleasantries and friendliness, you look content in your world..you, your mobile and your sms! Perfect family.

Come on man, give it a break! Look up! Look at the world around you. Notice the colleague smiling and waving at you whose face falls because you didn’t return his/her greeting. Look out for that vehicle which is coming out in full speed at the intersection. Look at the world God created exclusively for you. Look at the beautiful things he decorated it with. Look at that pretty chic at the corner or the hunk at the local café. Look up to see the beauty of flowers, the full moon surrounded by a million stars, the smile of a baby. Look for that ever elusive speck of innocence in our lives. God did bless most of us with eyes so that we may enjoy the visual feast he has laid down for us! Enjoy it, lest it may fade before you realize.

Look at the pace at which the world is changing around you. Look up and observe …. The world is rushing past you and you are left smsing.

Rupa weds Rani

2006-01-16T09:07:00.000+05:30

“30 couples have committed suicide in Kerala in the last 5 years.”

“19 year old girl attempts suicide after family opposition to torrid love affair.”

These are no normal stories; these are results of our society’s reactions towards homosexuality – same sex love affairs. Especially lesbianism - affairs of women in love with women. I had an argument with my mother over this. She was shocked as to how on earth could such a thing have happened in a literate and open minded state like Kerala! Of all the hypocrisy that I have faced in this world, that took the cake. Here was a woman from the thriving middle class of the Malayalee society who has been living in Mumbai for almost 30 years and has been exposed to a lot of open mindedness but who in the confines of her personal life would not even consider getting her only daughter married to a guy who was not a Nair and too exactly the same sub caste. I am not blaming her. She is my mother and she is only looking out for me. But I can’t imagine her reaction if ever I told her that I were a lesbian. I don’t think education has anything to do with your outlook of homosexuality.

Is homosexuality a crime? Why is it difficult to accept that people of the same sex could be madly in love with each other just as a man and a woman? Why is what two people who love each other, enjoy each others company, who care for each other deeply and want to spend their lives with each other, do in the privacy of their bedroom so important. Why do homosexuals have to infinitely hide the truth of their relation behind the curtains of “good friendship”? Do we pry into the details of the sexual lives of heterosexuals? Do we judge a married couple by whether the man has a fetish or whether the woman likes to be on top? As long as it is a man and a woman it is ok! Why is that?

Even within homosexuality I see the gender bias coming in. I am sure India has as large a number of gays as lesbians, maybe more. But gays committing suicide, gays being the centre of attention etc is not a issue that has come into limelight. I know Ashok Row Kavi as a famous gay activist. I don’t know about any lesbian activists. Is it harder for lesbians than it is for gays? I would never know..

Does it ever occur to the society that homosexuality could actually be good. Homosexuals obviously can’t make babies. Maybe the % of adoptions would go up. May be more orphaned children would get a life. This is just one aspect. When it is two of the same sex in a relationship, maybe instances of oppression, family discord, marital violence would be less as both are on level playing fields.

I have seen on History Channel that in one of the first and most advanced civilizations of the world i.e. the Roman civilization, being a heterosexual was considered a weakness especially among men as it implied that a man (a superior being) had to depend on a woman (a lowly being) for his sexual gratification. That would make him dependent and hence weak. So when did we, as a people move from being a homosexually driven society to a heterosexually driven one? I don’t know, I have not researched the subject.

All I know is that in this world where it is so difficult to find love (love is not to be confused with sex, which is pretty easy to find) if one does find love, I would be happy for that person irrespective of whether it is a man or woman they have fallen in love with.

Pennu Kanal

2006-01-16T09:05:00.000+05:30

I had completed my education. I had gotten myself a job. I was nearly quarter of a century old. I had reached that penultimate point of my life. I had to get married.

Now, if you belong to a middle class South Indian family, you would know what would ensue. From the time a girl crosses the legal marriable age, parents go through the beginning of the most tension-filled part of their lives. No parent who has gone through the experience of getting their daughters married would disagree that the entire experience is harrowing at the least.

If it’s tough on the parents, it need not be so for the “brides to be”. It can be the worst time of your life if your flinch on every rejection and it can also be the most enjoyable part of your pre marital life. For me so far, it’s been a roller coaster with my heart soaring with expectations each time only to be shown that this is not it yet.

A friend of mine coined a phrase that I like a lot “licensed display”. That’s what she calls the traditional ceremony of “Pennu kannal” or “Ladki dekhna”, meaning the process where the guy comes with his family and inspects the girl. After the ceremony begins the wait for the girls’ family for the phone to ring to hear the good news.

I have been through 4 of these ceremonies and the phone rang only once and I’m still single. You are right; I was rejected all the 4 times. Not too good for your self esteem but have faith that something better is in store for you and more over you can enjoy your freedom for some more time….

Guy no 1: It was actually not the guy, but his family. His mom, his dad, his sister, his brother in law… all but him. It was in our home in Trichur. Everything went superfluously well. Decent family. We never heard from them. Guess I didn’t fit their mould of a fair, slim, beautiful, homely wife for their son. By the way, I really don’t remember his name or what he did.

Guy no 2: Rank holder CA, got an appointment letter from HLL on the night of the CA final results declaration, has been with them for 5 years, lives in Bangalore, originally from Dombivili, Mumbai. He came with an attitude. I almost thought HLL was his fathers’ property; at least he acted that way. He had an accent – mildly American or so he thought. I had lived in Dombivili for 4 of my infant years. To the uninitiated, Dombivili is a part of Thane district where property prices being low, most of the influx of Malayalee immigrants to Mumbai settle, same as my parents. Most people work hard, earn money and shift to suburbs like Mulund, Chembur, Matunga as a sign of progress. As you would have understood, its miles away from the US of A. So I was left wondering where he got that delightfully false accent from. His mom, dad, aunt and he. My mom, dad, aunt, niece and me. I had never though so many people could fit into that small living room of our apartment in Mumbai and all of us could still breathe. We moved to the balcony with a glass of litchi juice. We talked for 10 minutes about the juice, it was really tasty. He asked me what I was looking for. Reality check – was I in a marriage interview or a job interview? Didn’t seem to be too different. Told him my standard line, “I am looking for a decent non-smoking, non drinking guy”. Oh Oh…I had done myself in. Non-smoking, non-drinking..no wonder I wasn’t getting married. I was asking for an extinct species “non smoking, non drinking malayalee guy” was I crazzzy? By the way, he didn’t say all that. He just said, “Oh! I don’t smoke , but I am a light social drinker (whatever that means)”. I knew that moment that we had no future. And I had just spent 12 grand on a round trip to Mumbai from Coimbatore. At least job interviews reimburse the travel expenses, here no such luck. They never “reverted”.

Guy no 3: This is close to heart. I might not have ended up marrying the guy, but I did find a good friend in him. His family as small as mine came all the way to Coimbatore. He traveled down from Bangalore and his folks came down from Chennai where they are settled. I did not even have to take leave from office. I just took an hour’s break and came home. We walked for about an hour. I showed him the RTO, my office, the walking track behind my house. We talked about all and sundry and it was time for him to go. I really thought it may click. I was almost afraid it might click. I did not know if I was ready for that kind of commitment yet. But we had talked a lot before the actual meeting, so we were comfortable. But things were not to work out, I guess. He and his parents did call me and my folks up and apologize. That was thoughtful of them.

Guy no 4: A doctor from one of the most famous Nair families of Kerala. His family comes to our home in Trichur. His face looks like the surface of the moon. I guess that unfair to the moon, even the moon has lesser number of crates on its surface. His mom and my dad got along famously. Its only after the families were comfortable with each other that I had agreed to the meeting. We talked for a total of 10 minutes, infact he talked for a total of 9 and a half minutes of them and I punctuated the remaining 30 seconds with Oh, I see, good, nice etc. I hope he does realize that he is not the only doctor to have walked the surface of planet earth. We did not hear from them either.

Anyways my parents are still trying to hook me up with some decent guy. May God aid them in their quest! I, for my part don’t think it is such a bad idea. You end up learning a lot about people and their attitudes and if you are as lucky as me you end up making a friend in the process.

COOOOOOOL

2006-01-11T09:11:00.000+05:30

I was recently wondering what it was like to be cool? I am really confused with this notion! What does it really mean to be "cool"????

Does it mean being someone who can appear on page 3? This species of humans range from overly fashionable (example: rich middle aged socialite wife of business tycoon, who is trying on the latest scraggly piece of designer clothing which looks like a dish rag to the common man) to utterly obnoxious (example: wannabe babe or dude who is so & so’s boy/girl friend who got drunk in an uptown pub and feels he/she was defending one’s right to be drunk and obnoxious)

Does it mean being someone who is part of what is known as an “upwardly mobile middleclass”? This is someone who belongs to a run of the mill middle class family. A person whose family tried to instill values, atypical of the middle class, in them. Someone who has those values somewhere in their heart and being, but too deep for it to surface at appropriate moments. These are educated folks with really high paying jobs who feel the desparate need to flaunt their new found (seemingly hard earned) money. Someone who thinks that we are gonna be rich (meaning page 3 material) in the near future. So might as well practice being a part of the crowd. This practice session includes experimenting with sex (pre-marital, extra-marital, same-sex), drugs, booze, clubbing, partying and seeing nothing wrong in coming home at 2 am and being on the verge of calling their fathers “old man”!

Does it mean being someone who so wants to be noticed by everybody? Someone who wears prewashed, pretorn jeans, faded stinky T-shirts, grows long hair which can be tied in an awkward pony tail, can be seen lounging doing nothing most of the time and has a standard response “whatever” to all possible questions askable to him. Someone who purchases even the pretorn jeans and faded T-shirts at a premium from the most prestigious branded stores, doesn’t mind paying 150 bucks for a coffee and considers pizza to be the best replacement to the staple Indian diet just because it is American.

Can a person who is modern in outlook, open in thoughts, fearless in attitude, responsible in actions, conservative in dressing, polite in speech, sensible in money matters be ever considered cool?

Naaaaaah!!! Take a chillpill dude! That’s so uncool!

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

2006-01-03T10:24:00.000+05:30

Its 2006. A new year has begun. The advent of a new year is supposed to be filled with hope, enthusiasm and a lot of other mumbo jumbo motivational crap about how life is great and anything is possible and we ought to know what we want and then we should work towards that dream and one day we will be there… My God! What a lot of bull.
I woke up today the same as yesterday. There was no change whatsoever in the way I looked at things or the way the world treated me. So what’s the big deal about new years anyway????

I think, I will answer my own question. At the end of every day we wait for nightfall as if 6 hours of darkness and blissful oblivion would somehow change things the next day. But all people go to bed thinking that what happened today has happened. Can’t change the past. Better look forward to the future. Tomorrow for sure will be a better day. It’s this hope that keeps us homo sapiens alive and going. Its this uncanny feeling that everything that happens happens for good and that whatever might be our current situation, things could be far worse and that there are many in this world less fortunate that us…

I hence decided that maybe the world will never treat me different and may be I don’t really know how I expect the world to treat me. But I could make a few changes in the way I treat myself. So here goes my long list of New Year resolutions.

1. I will talk less:
All that gyan about silence being golden and maunam vidwana bhushanam etc. may actually mean something. I talk a lot (obviously, hence the resolution) and I talk unnecessarily (no topic is bad for me, no person is to be spared by banter). I am not saying that I will go the silent spectator way. But at least I could think before I speak, I could measure my words, I could stop bullshitting so much. Maybe, what’s the harm in trying?

2. I will be firm:
I am quite a wishy wash kind of person. I have my own opinions and ideas, but they normally get bulldozed over by some one else’s less than brilliant ideas. Why? Because I simply don’t think it is worth the effort to either convince the other person of the worth of my idea or I myself think it is a supremely dumb idea, hence not worth anyone’s time. I also go along with the flow a lot i.e. I give in a lot to the wishes of my friends and family. All those seemingly insignificant daily stuff, apparently adds up to a lot of giving in.

3. I will take care of myself:
I spent the last 2 years expecting my parents to take time off their lives to take care of me. I expected my friend to mother me. I convinced my self that I enjoy the freedom that my life alone gives me but I am just not ready to take the responsibility.
I put on an awesome 10 kg in 4 months simply because I was too lazy to eat right and then ended up paying a months salary (at lest a good part of it) trying to get rid of that extra fat in some superspeciality health clinic.
I brood a lot – that gets me down. I think of the world and what’s generally wrong with it. I think about my family and what's bothering them. I think about my friends and the shit they are going through and that drives me into a mood that does not make me candidate for “the most wonderful person to be around” award. I realize (this realization didn’t come with the new year, I have been aware of it a long time) that there is nothing I can do to change all that and make everything better for everybody. I earn well – so maybe I can donate some of my money to charity. I can help my family and friends in whatever way I can physically and financially – sometimes just being there for them is enough. It’s their lives and I can’t live it for them and worrying myself to death is not gong to help me either.

4. Read:
There was a time when I was a devout reader. Let me be honest I have not read many classics and am not ashamed to admit that. When I moved away from home for my job, I went around buying Bronte, Dickens, Bernard Shaw (I didn’t go overboard and buy Shakespeare – but that’s was next on my list). Anyway with this collection of good books at home, I spent every waking moment I was not at office in front of TV. The last two years I have seen more of the idiot box than I have I my entire life. But as on date that became a thing of the past. I started and finished Chetan Bhagats “One night @ a call center” in 4 hours flat and did not even feel the urge to put on my TV. I then moved to reading some professional stuff and now I am writing. I am determined about this one thing. I want to be able to read again – for all that I am today is because of that one great habit of mine and I am allowing it to die on me so easily.

That’s the end of my list. It’s a short one indeed and I want desperately to be able to stick to it. The trouble is there is one thing about me that needs changing but that I am not willing to change and that is my extreme pessimism. Somehow I think it has kept me on guard and has been healthy for my life and me. Its better to be aware of your own weaknesses and to prepare yourself for the failures that you will face in life. It’s a lot less painful that way than painting up a rosy picture, working your ass off for it and then ending up in a dark alley with a dead end.

So at the end of this year when I re-read this list and don’t give myself a smirk indicating, “jerk! What were you thinking of making such a fancy wish list?” I think I will have done myself a great service.

PERCEPTION

2005-12-11T15:43:00.000+05:30

There are times when u feel totally helpless in life.. these moments seem to be too frequent now a days. Is it an actual helplessness or just what we feel? Do we over-perceive our helplessness to an extent where it actually overtakes our thoughts and makes us weak?

There are times when I see someone in need – a street urchin, a crippled beggar.. I want to do something to help them. But what? My immediate thoughts go towards reasoning what they might do with the money that I intend to give them. The child would anyway not get anything – some kingpin over them would snatch it all away. The old beggar would only use the money I give to buy to buy booze, bidi, charas…. Why waste my hard earned money? But, what’s in a rupee or two? I don’t know if what I decide just shows that I am a heartless pig, a miserly scrooge or someone who holds principles above every day emotions???

There are times when I love a special someone so much that all I want to do is tell it to them. Confess and then say “Que sera sera”. But what do we do? We overrationalise the decision. We factor in everything. Feelings of others, our social status, what the rest of the bloody damned world thinks of us…

Do we now a days think too much? Think about possible consequences (we think only of the bad ones – not a single good consequence of our actions cross our minds), we think about the effect of our actions on the rest of the world (rest of the world, mind u, not just the few we care about or about whom we care, we think about the whole world – all those people whom we have never given a second thought in the normal course of activities – all of them somehow miraculously play a pivotal role in our decisions). We think so hard and we decide that though a particular action may make us happy, maybe good for us in some way, we should under no circumstance go through with the same – we convince ourselves with some half baked reason…

Have we stopped living today because our actions today may (in our perception) be detrimental to someone somewhere in the near or distant future? Whom are we living for? Is this life ours or something that we owe to the rest of the world? Did God put us on the earth and tell us “ go my child, suffer till u can suffer no more for that is your only purpose in life”. We take pains, we cry and all that for what, for whom – normally for people who don’t care a rats ass if we live or die… that’s whom for.

Is considering our own happiness once in a while, wanting to feel satisfied – even if rarely, wanting to and being able to break into an innocent smile just once in a blue moon, wanting to spend some time with someone dear and feel perfectly ecstatic about it, wanting to fall in love and wanting to keep that love, wanting to live…just live and not merely exist - is it a mortal sin?

The last link

2005-12-02T12:42:00.000+05:30

It’s been quite some time since I last wrote. It was not as if things did not happen or I wasn’t occasionally inspired by places, people and incidents – I was.

Like one of the last links of the lineage of which I am the fourth generation broke. My grandmother’s aunt passed away. She was 90. No body felt sad that she had passed away, come on, the woman was 90. She was way past her time. I even had my doubts whether I really wanted to go and pay her my last respects. All my recent memories of her comprised of her lying like a vegetable in a bed in corner. She had become a dead weight that my granny had to lug around, simply because there was no other option. I didn’t want to go. But I did.
I went there and found a very small gathering of people; some of them I knew and some were alien to me. I walked in and saw a tiny bundle wrapped in pure white cloth. I saw this ebony brown body all of less than 4 ½ foot in length, looking deceptively light with slightly disfigured teeth. I still did not feel the loss of this person.
Let me tell you something about her – she was 90, widowed at a very young age, mother of 3 children – all of whom died at infancy, totally alone, led a slave like life at the mercy of her elder sister – my great grandmother, left out of any kind of inheritance at the time of partitioning, brought home by my grandmother with whom she lived everafter. She had brought up 3 generation of our family including me, my mother, my granny and countless other “relatives”. She had a kind, caring heart – one that always was concerned about the welfare of others – no mater who they were. She was especially close with the workers – the men and women who worked in our house and farms. She may be felt a kind of affinity towards them, she understood their life and she would go out of her way to help them. It was recollected by someone in the tiny gathering there on the fateful day that there was probably no worker in that village who had not been given at least one times meal by her. It was time to take the body away and we were told to touch her feet and say our last prayers for her soul.
I walked ahead, my heart still like stone, not even a tear. I bent down on one knee and touched her feet and then…. Then it was as if a dam had broken. I started crying, not silently sobbing or sniffing like the others in the room. I was crying. In that span of less than 60 seconds I saw my entire life with her flash before my eyes. All those times she had played with me, fed me, told me countless bedtime stories, put me to bed, tried to fulfill every demand of mine, reminded me to carry coconuts and bananas with me whenever I left, kept saying that she wanted to live to see me getting married. I saw all this and much more and I could not believe that I would not see this person again. This was the person to whom I had said goodbye less than a week before and said “ see u next time”. There was to be no next time. She was gone and she was never coming back. I was literally clinging to her legs as if to keep her back in this world. Some one gently pulled me up and I kept sobbing. My granny was next. I have never seen my granny cry – and that’s a lot considering the kind of life she has had. But that day – she cried. This woman had been my granny’s constant companion for more than 2 decades and granny had actually seen the life go out of her as she breathed her last. May be we were the only 2 people in that room for whom this woman meant so much. Both me and my granny – both genrations apart, teary eyed, silently said our last prayers for our lost ancestor. The men of the family came and wrapped the little body and finally covered her face. This was it.

She was gone..

My little sister

2005-11-03T15:43:00.000+05:30

It kept oscillating – right & left, back and forth. My eyeballs kept following its movement. I was fascinated by its frivolousness. On one hand I was reminded of the pendulum and its movement, old Physics lessons buried somewhere in the recesses of my memory and on the other hand I was irritated by this very movement. It was some weird neo modern, futuristic design purchased for maybe 20 bucks from some local Mumbai train and it adorned the ears of my little sister. All of fifteen and a bundle of totally silly energy – the kind that is common among girls of that volatile age.

I was feeling very jealous.

The girl was fairer than me – it was not my fault that my mom and dad resembled their respective fathers when it came to complexion; she has a figure to kill for at an age since which I had resembled a barrel, she had long hair (the ultimate mark of feminity especially for a Malayalee, which I had promptly cut off at the first instigation from my mom), she had a really sweet voice and could sing really well, she actually got to learn classical dance for more than 2 years (learning to sing and dance well have been life long dreams of mine). She dressed like a girl – like a really pretty girl. She wore pink boldly, she had a pile of imitation jewellery, she mixed and matched her costumes and accessories – that too everyday, she had a case of makeup she found plenty of opportunity to put, she styled her hair in myriad ways – all these were totally alien to me.

Life was so unfair…….

What if she was almost an orphan - her parents got separated when she was one, her mom being a workaholic, she was brought up partly by my mom, our grandma and mostly by Gods grace. Was it my fault that she had never received a good education – she had changed 8 schools in 10 years because of her mothers’ career and our family problems? Could I help it that she is slightly socially displaced?

How could she be in an enviable position inspite of all these problems (none of them being my fault)? Life really was unfair…..

She was being herself and I – the big sister that she looked up to, she was told to make her role model, she had grown to respect over the years, the only person who actually put the fear of God in her, that big sister was jealous of her. Jealous of her because I cannot find the courage in myself to break away from the social image I have created for my self, because I lack the self-confidence in my abilities to experiment with a change in the way I look. For me, the great Renu, who mocks at all social norms, who does things her own way, the hard hitting reality may be that I am stuck with the way people accept me simply because I am too chicken to be what I really want to be. I am too scared of facing the ridicule that society and peers would most likely hurl at me when they see me attempt to change – to adhere to the common image of a woman, after all my tall claims of not wanting to be like one, of actually publicly making fun of all that is feminine and conservative. All I want to be is a woman, not necessarily an Indian woman (that’s tougher than any other species)… just a woman - that would do for a start. But it is the start that I will never make….I can’t bring my self to make.

That might well be the truth, but denial is blissful and I totally am in denial. Life is unfair and it is all my little sisters fault…..She doesn’t know it yet but it is her fault.

A divine experience

2005-10-24T17:45:00.000+05:30

I have never been a great lover of the monsoon. Having been brought up in Mumbai where the entire city unites and flows as one huge smelly gutter in the rainy season, being outdoors in the rains just brings up memories of long bathes with tons of Dettol and scrubbing every part of my body which had come in contact with the rain water to get rid of every inconceivable thing that the rain water carries. So it was a surprisingly amazing experience the other day when I walked for an hour through a torrent of the heaviest rainfall Coimbatore had seen in a long time.

I had set my mind on going to the temple one evening. It was just 5 in the evening and it was as dark as it would be at about 8 at night. I knew that the sagging clouds up above were waiting for me to step out so that they could pour out their woes to me. I know that I sound complacent, but it is true. The clouds, the leaves the trees and sometimes even the big Guy himself. I hear all of them talking to me..complaining to me, blessing me, showering me with happiness… I guess nature shows affection in its own way to everybody. It’s just that very few have the time to realize it and respond likewise.

I step out with determination writ boldly all over my face armed with nothing but a hand me down umbrella. I had walked maybe 10 meters and my friends from the heaven rushed down to meet me. First the fat ones came down, every drop as fat as an elephants bottom, perfect teardrop shaped ones. Following them in lightening speed were the lighter sharper ones. The only thing between me and their overwhelming love and desire to meet me was my umbrella.

I discovered that the best way to walk in such a heavy down pour is to tuck both hand perilously close to the torso and to hold the umbrella tightly with both hands. Thus I marched on… feeling almost like a brave soldier who in the face of all odds marched towards enemy lines… I almost felt like SRKs introductory shot in Main Hoon Na, except for the clumsily tucked arms holding a worn down umbrella. My freshly washed jeans, cling to my legs and gradually soak up the rain water so thirstily that I can feel them weighing me down after about 15 minutes of this march. I rarely wash my jeans and the day after I had finally washed them, it rains this heavily. What a waste of all that soap!!

We are half way to our destination and the rain eases out. A few moments more and I reach the temple and find it to be bone dry. It had not even drizzled there. After darshan, as soon as I step out the skies open again as if carrying on with me some incomplete conversation from where it left off. The rain just as enthusiastically continued its prancing and dancing on my poor umbrella. The huge rain drops splattered on to my glasses disintegrating to a million tiny specks, making every thing in front of me a blurred vision. As the rains forged down so did I forge ahead – undaunted. I could have taken a bus or a rick or the many modes of transport that were available. But now this was between me and the rain. It had taken all this trouble to come down and meet me. I was going to oblige it. As I waddled though the rain water – mostly clean (anything is clean compared to rain water in Mumbai) I relished in the feeling. The road was almost empty – Coimbatore being a two-wheeler city. I had the entire stretch to my self save the occasional bus or the brave cabbie.

As I walked slowly down the road, I had a strange sensation – one that I had never experienced before. I felt as if all my tensions getting washed away. I ran a mental scan of all the people I had ever come in contact with in my short life span and I forgave all of them. I asked for their forgiveness. I felt free and relieved. I felt happy and joyous. I felt alive.

Everyone is Special

2005-10-22T11:47:00.000+05:30

It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from closing. It was after lunch and I was desperately trying to keep awake at my work desk. I guess I was doing a pretty good job of pretending to be awake and working as nobody actually came upto me with the noble intention of waking me up - that had happened in the past. A very chirpy and enthusiastic “Haiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” jolts me awake from my calm afternoon siesta. I’m quick to response like wise, a result of excellent reflexes and years of practice. It’s the girl from HR – the only department that I like a lot because they are the only department compared to which I seem to be actually working my butt off. Hey, common corporate knowledge – HR does no work.

I turn around and look at her and my eyes pop out. “My God! You’ve grown fat And how!” She pouts and looks cute doing it. “You too Brutus! Every one on the 1st floor is anyway being a bit too honest and straightforward about my weight. Some one called my extra luggage; some one called me a pig. No consideration what so ever that I am a girl. You don’t tell a girl that she has grown fat!” The female just looks plain adorable complaining so. She has just returned after a 10 day Durga puja vacation to Kolkatta and that she had a really good time was evident from the fact that now she could actually match me in size.

She was waiting for her friend to go for lunch and lounged around for a bit. As per courtesy I asked her about how she was, how the puja was and did she enjoy herself etc. Instead of the standard “I’m fine and every thing was Ok”, she opened up a bit to allow me a rare insight into her personality. Mind you, this was not a girl with whom I socialized too much, not that I did that with anybody else.

She went off track and started miming something. I was confused. What’s up with this girl? I knew, she was a bit off, but why had she suddenly gone into mute lane and why was she trying to look like one of those special newsreaders. If my generation can recollect, DD had (I don’t know if it still has) special afternoon news for those were audially challenged (deaf & dumb, for the uninitiated). I was as uninterested in these special new casts as I was in regular new. But the girl in front of me claimed to have been fascinated with it. She repeated a few actions and I asked her the meaning of a particular one – one that looked like she was screwing something like a light bulb on her head – she said it stood for Manmohan Singh. I burst out laughing, I don’t remember the last time I had laughed so hard and so loud and maybe even so deep from the heart. This girl had managed to make have a hearty laugh. She had to be special, she just had to be….

She told me that she had wanted to read my blog for quite some time. I noticed that she had a good sense of the English language and some how in those few short moments I felt there was more to her than what met the eye. I suggested that she start writing and share those with others. She said, she did write or rather she used to write. But those are too private to be shared. I understood. There are some things about me that scare even me, and so I can’t share them with myself let alone the world. But most of my other feelings are quite common, in the sense that every one feels them at one point or other. Sharing them does not embarrass me or make me feel vulnerable or ashamed – I get strong vibes that these are what I am supposed to feel being a part of the society.

She had a certain lost innocence in her, which I had not noticed till date. She told me that she had an ink pen that she loved and a red bound diary that she adored and may be she wrote when she did just for the love of the pen and the book. She wrote all there was to write in a period, which can be typically called the “teenage soul searching emotional turmoil” stage of your life. I know, because that is when I also felt the need to express myself through poems and attempted prose.
Her writings, those memoirs of the rebellious and confused period of her life, got lost in time…

She told me that she had freaked out in her college life. She had so many friends and they had done a lot of crazy stuff, the result of the age and the need to desperately break out of the social boundaries and to experiment – I guess. I drew a stark mental comparison to my own college life, there was not much of anything in it – I didn’t remember anything other than the fact that I was a total geek, in the classical sense of the word – first bench student, thick glasses, oiled hair, obnoxious dress sense and a barrel like figure. No friends, no fun, no nothing… She had met all those old friends this time she had been to Kolkotta. All those freaks with whom she had shared hours and hours of meaningless banter about anything and everything, she fondly remembered those times. She told me that surprisingly she could not have a decent conversation with them now, when she had met many of them nearly 3 – 4 years later. After the usual pleasantries, things just got stuck. She had nothing to ask and they had nothing to say. It was an awkward silence. I’m not too familiar with that feeling (simply because of the total lack of a huge number of friends), but I knew exactly what she meant. She will always have fond memories of those times and in her heart will be this childish yearn to relive those days but her mind will tell her that that it will not be. She had gone ahead in life; she had a new life now, new people, new friends and maybe a new persona altogether. She had moved on.

Listening to her, I realized that every one moves on. What at a particular period in time feels like the perfect idyllic life and time seem to be just a stepping stone in to the unknown future. Once the future closes on you, that too with lighting speed, mind you, you will look back at those very times and ponder upon them and smile fondly recollecting those times. But put in the very same situation today, you will feel totally out of place in your own past!!! I guess life is like a river. Though the mouth of the river, the point of origination is the purest and the best part of its existence, a river once it sprouts out from the mouth, never goes back, it just flows ahead – absorbing all that the world has to offer - good and bad, till it finally meets the ocean one day…..

You are hired!

2005-10-18T11:17:00.000+05:30

As a kid I wanted to be a doctor. When I grew up a bit I realized that being a doctor involves a lot of studying and a lot of money outflow. So I dropped the idea and decided to become an IPS office. A few years wiser I realized that it doesn’t pay too well and you have to be saluting a lot of scum. So I decided I wanted to be a movie star. A few years down the lane reality stuck me – I was not Marylin Monroe – hell! I was not even plain Jane like Sandra Bullock. By this time I had finished school, Mom was of the opinion that I should take up commerce – Science was not my cup of tea and Arts had no future. Then she decided that I should study something alongside my degree as I had lots of free time (colleges in Mumbai are only for 3 hours per day). So I enrolled myself for CA. After 3 torturous years I completed the course (so much for not studying too hard) and had dreams of a high paying (at least 25K per month) job. It is with these star-studded dreams that I typed out my resume and started job hunting.

I actually went through the entire resume and certificates in hand, knocking at countless doors, appearing for innumerable interviews and facing rejection and even humiliation phase before landing the plump job I have now. Those were the days..now that I look upon them (not that those were eons ago), I have a hearty laugh. But that’s now… at that point it was sheer despearation and frustration all bottled up at not getting that dream job, at times not even being selected for 2nd rounds of interviews.

A few incidents from that period stand out in memory –

A pharmaceutical company. Morning 10:30 AM. Position – Assistant Manager – Accounts. Interviewer – Head Accounts. General accounting concepts were discussed. I answered to the best of my abilities. I had a feeling this might actually click. The place was good, the guy in front of me seemed like a reasonable fellow, the pay might also be good though it might not be a dream salary. All was fine till he asked me “Could you tell me what is s/165 of the Income Tax Act?” What the heck? Who actually remembers all the sections in income tax act (there are people who can memorise books and can repeat the contents at the touch of a button, I’m just not one of them) I was stumped. Instead of just staying that I don’t know, I said “Why don’t you hand me the Income Tax Act book kept on the shelf behind you and I’m sure I can search out the section for you. I believe that once I show you where it is, your English is good enough to read the section and understand what is written in it.” That was the end of the interview. Don’t know why, they never called back!!!!

A famous IT concern. Mid morning 11:30 AM. Position – Financial Analyst – International operations. After interviews with the functional heads I head for a final interview with a department, which in later professional life was to become the department that I was convinced, was a part of every company only to exhibit the skill of looking busy without actually doing any work – HR. Mr. HR manager informs me that as I would be dealing in international operations, the timings may be a bit odd. As I had expected that, I was prepared for it. I politely enquired, “What is my shift?” He looks at me as if I’m from Mars and tells me “You have to be in office by 9:00 AM”. I’m a bit confused. “What are the normal office hours?” I ask. He is even more amazed. He challenges, “How long are you willing to work?” I say “Till say, 10:00 – 10:30 at night. Approx. 13 hours per day”. He smirks and says “The actual work normally begins by 9:30 PM and may go on till 2:00 –3:00 AM”. I’ve had it till my neck with this fellows “higher than thou” attitude. I snap and sweetly ask him “ Do you have a guest house here?” - “No”. “Will you provide me quarters on the premises?” – “No”. “So you actually expect me to travel a total of 4 hours per day to come to work for nearly 16 hours?” He looks down on me and says “Every one does it. Those are the work requirements now a days”. I retort, “How do you know? You are HR – you’ve never worked a day in your life.” The interview ended there. I did not become the Financial Analyst – International Operations.

An old house Mutual Fund company. Waiting period of 2 hours - 11:00 AM to 1:00 PM. Heavy rains – totally drenched. Bored to the core and frustrated. People kept going in and out of the electronically guarded doors to/from the inner sanctorum of the office and I’m sitting there like a wet hen. I was almost feeling insulted. Finally I’m called for an interview by a guy who I suspect is nearly my own age. After 2 hours of waiting they send a rookie to interview me. I was seething by now. I’ve hardly taken a seat and he shoots, “Do you know how to calculate the yield of an equity share?” This was the limit! I conjure up my most sarcastic tone and say, “I thought this was a financially well off company and that you could afford computers.” He is shocked and is hooked on my bait, “We have computers!” I smile and say, “Oh, I’m sure that you guys do calculate the yield of equity shares, even in my absence and that it would be with the aid of computers. So when you have a system for doing something, why the hell did you waste two hours of my time to ask this meaningless question? I turn and walk out of the room before he could react. I don’t want to hear from them ever again.

The most famous private bank in India. I have to say that I was totally taken in by appearances and was smitten by their office. I’m interviewed for some post so insignificant that I don’t even remember it now. I thought I was actually doing quite well. The next day I gave a follow up call and I got a reply, which to this day rings in my ears like a resounding slap, “He was not impressed by you.” That SOB, HE was not impressed with ME. Who did he think he was? That two-bit clerk! Wish I could show him my paycheck now. He would most certainly be impressed.

I finally got interviewed by a bunch of people who were as unconventional, as off beat and as crazy as me. I still work with them. Birds of the same feather do flock together – believe me – its better that way!

Then & Now

2005-10-12T10:25:00.000+05:30

I was rummaging through some old stuff and I found a poem I had written half a dozen years back.

What on earth haven’t I got?
Body and mind both safe and loved
Happiness and comfort I have a lot
Why do I sit and lament?

But are only those enough
For my existence?
If a breathing corpse is what I want to be
I reckon they are just about ample for me

But if it is a human being that I aspire to be
What I need is confidence and dignity

But where do I shop for confidence?
What do I bargain for dignity?
What should I wear to be intelligent?
What make up would bring out my creativity

Not that I don’t have the above
They do exist deep down I me
But my fear,
My fear of failure
Just pushes them deeper and deeper inside of me

So frustrated and depressed
So impatient and restless
So dumb and worthless
Why do I feel?

My soul will die in this prison
My heart wouldn’t cry
My eyes wouldn’t shed a tear
I would mourn my own death….

I have to say that the poem is utterly desperate and cannot be considered an artistic master piece. But it speaks volumes of truth – about me, the state of mind I was in when I wrote it, my perception of life and my role in the whole scheme of things.

Most of my thoughts still remain the same but life has taught me a few important lessons and so my approach towards life and the way I look at things has changed drastically. I would not go over board and say that now I am optimistic and life is all rosy and beautiful. But yes, I have realized that it is only upto me to make my life beautiful or miserable. That everybody sails in a boat similar to mine. Everybody has a few good qualities and some flaws. Everybody feels incomplete deep down. Everybody becomes desperate and frustrated in life at some point. That I’m not alone.

Its not in what you feel that lies the essence of life, its in how you deal with those feelings, how you channel them, how you change your perception about yourself, your life and consequently of the world that you live in. It’s in realizing that you have been put down on earth for a purpose. You have to do a lot of soul searching to stumble upon that purpose – but try and you will discover yourself. That would be the day you accept your flaws and admire your own goodness and thank God for putting you down and giving you a chance to make a difference – no matter how small it may be.

That would be the day that you start living.

DOSTI KA NAAM ZINDAGI

2005-10-10T09:38:00.000+05:30

“Aye yaar sun, yaari teri mujhe apne jaan se bhi pyaari hai……….”

“Ye dosti, hum nahi todenge, chodenge dum magar, tera saath na todenge….”

“I’ll be there for you…..”

Numerous songs and sonnets on friendship. All those sentimental friendship SMSs which keep getting forwarded around the world, the most popular one being “A friend is one who sees your first tear, wipes the second and makes sure that the third one does not come out.”

Is friendship over rated or is it really worth all the hype and attention that is getting … now with Friendship day, Buddy day and what not????

I am an extrovert to the world because I can endlessly yap to anyone regardless of the who they are, how well I know them, whether we have anything in common or not….. But people who know me have seen the real me.. a person who is shy to commit to a relation. I am a great believer of the theory that it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. But I have also in this short life span been through a couple of really painful relationships, relations where I had invested all of myself and then came up with negative returns on my investment. That taught me a lesson.. that when you invest in friendship consider book your losses immediately because no matter what happens in the end you will end up getting hurt…. See the inevitable thing in friendship is that the cliché ending of “and they all lived happily ever after…” never happens because that just is not an option. You cannot spend the rest of your life with your friend/(s). What about marriage? What about starting a family? What about globetrotting for career growth? What about your life? It’s fancy and melodramatic to say “Dosti ka naam zindagi, zindagi ka naam dosti!” But does it actually apply verbatim in today’s fast world?

Moving from Mumbai was tough for me. Away from family and more than that from a dear friend was heart wrenching for me. I knew my family would visit me regularly and in due course of time I would get over missing them very badly. But Neha, how would I get over her. She had become an inseparable part of my life and indeed my own self. She loved me, she cared for me, and she didn’t put up with any of my nonsense. She was the first person outside my family who had seen me cry, who had felt my inner pain without me saying a word. How could I live without her? I knew I would survive but things just won’t be the same anymore. I was leaving a part of me behind.

But God had his plans, I guess……..

I met Veda here, a woman older and wiser than me in age and experience who filled in the gaping hole in my heart and took position both as family and friend. She pampered me, adored me, disciplined me, fought with me, helped me get over the jitters of even considering marriage. Over time she became so important to me that I was at times even ignoring family over her. I either avoided or shortened my official trips as I could not bear to be apart from her. I stayed late at office just so that I could bid her goodbye. I would stay back at weekends pining to see her even if it was for just half an hour, which was all I would get most of the time. At office, we had become a trademark couple. People rarely saw either of us alone. Coffee, lunch, staff gatherings… u name it and we were a together. If either of us were not in our own seats, calls would go to each others desks as that is where we invariably would be. People in office may have gone to such lengths so as to think that we are lesbians… even I doubted that at times. Things with her were not always like a sweet honeymoon. We had our fights. She was too emotional about certain things, she would take offence too quickly, she would for days together finger me the wrong way for something that I may have been a part of..but was certainly not my fault. Many at times I was also to blame. She either didn’t realize or pretended to overlook how important she had become to me. There were times when I felt jealously over possessive about her, especially when it came to she spending more time with her brother and my time with her being curtailed according to his convenience and schedule. I never said that to her. In fact I never said a lot of things to her. She may have guessed …..or not.. I never knew. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say all these things I felt to her…simply because I feared losing her.. I knew we would not be in each others lives too long.. I just didn’t want our time together to end sooner than it was supposed to.

But doesn’t friendship warrant openness and honesty? Isn’t true friendship supposed to withstand all the tests of time?

What exactly is friendship? Is it just people of the same age group hanging out together? Is it a group of like-minded people sharing their common interests? Is it just a name given to a transient phase in life where we meet somebody and enjoy his or her company for a short while and then move on with our lives? Is it something like marriage but platonic?

Is it, to me, all the above and more… much more. It is a relation between two people, whose sacredness, purity and strength is maybe surpassed only by the bond of the umbilical cord.

It involves being in a relationship selflessly without expecting anything in return. In fact, if you ask me friendship falls can be fit into the traditional universally accepted meaning of love sans the sexual gratification or any expectation thereof. In a way, this very fact makes friendship better and more long lasting than “love”. In love a consummation of the relationship is expected, but in friendship, the very existence of the relationship is its consummation.

I have endless questions about what friendship really is? How is it supposed to affect me? What am I supposed to do to keep a friendship going? How do you say goodbye to a friend? I am on a quest to unearth the answers to these questions…….

But, nevertheless, I have been lucky to have a couple of really good friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. I know that despite all our differences of opinion and all those tiffs and miffs I could turn around in the times of both joy and despair and they will be there sharing and partaking both. I know that we will all go our separate ways, we may lose touch with each other, we may forget the important things in each others lives…..but at the end of it all, I know and feel that I have been blessed just to have known them…..

33 & 1/3rd for me

2005-10-05T17:12:00.000+05:30

I am a woman. That’s not a self-convincing statement, that’s just a statement of fact. Biologically, that’s what I am and I have been accepted as one socially too. Except for a couple of occasions on local buses where I was told to get off the ladies seat as I was hogging them and a few instances where my girl friends (friends who belong to the fairer sex – whatever that means) parents got reports that their daughters were spotted with a stocky guy with shaggy hair.

Ok, so I’m a bit tomboyish. I walk with a stagger, don’t have an ounce of the famed feminine shyness, am totally colour blind (women are supposed to differentiate beige from pastel – both are shades of light colour, Im told), I love talking about sex, I forget to zip up my jeans once in a while, I scratch my crotch in public… all those obnoxious things that guys are supposed to do, I do them (except for smoking and drinking – these are plain stupid).

I have always believed that girls and guys feel almost the same things at approximately the same age. It’s just a matter of the social perimeter, which encages us that differentiates the behaviour of the opposite sexes. You think that if a fat girl wears a tight pair of pants the zip does not slide down because the zip is aware of the wearers feminity. You think that the crotch of a girl is a tension free and scratch proof area… you are grossly wrong. You think a woman never farts, think again. You think a woman always smells of fresh flowers, tell the summer sun to be partial to the fairer sex and then maybe the theory will be true. And who ever still says that women are the fairer sex. Isn’t there a beauty cream called “Fair and Handsome” for men. You think a woman does not think about sex, believe me they think about it from the time puberty sets in.. infact for a short period that’s all what they think of. So you see, when it comes to gross stuff girls compete very strongly and sometimes hold an edge over guys.

Similarly when it comes to sensitive behaviour typically associated with women, todays men are not to be left far behind. There is a new breed of men called metro sexuals, they cry openly, they are not scared to show emotion publicly (some times that’s plain embarrassing), they spend a good part of their routine grooming and looking good, they some times even genuinely care.

So things are finally the way God wants them to be (I suppose). Men and women have started realizing that the only thing that actually separates them is a piece of flesh placed in separate parts of the body. They are sharing responsibilities, there are egos being put to rest, expectations are being tempered, people are actually coming to their senses. And amidst all this, are we as a country declaring 33 and 1/3rd reservation for women?? Why on earth would we want to do that? I do understand the fact that India still has a lot of places where women are under valued, places where female infanticide and feoticide is common, places where young girls are not sent to school, places where girls are married off at tender ages of 10 and below. I get all that, but aren’t we a country that’s just about 60 years young. What we have achieved in these 60 years is remarkable if we consider the main fact that, we are a democratic country and no matter how misused, we have maintained that that’s what we want to be.

In such a situation is it right on our part to encourage the division of the society on the basis of sex, religion, caste etc. Aren’t we above these petty issues? Isn’t it apparent that if a person has the goods to be at the top of the game, they will be, no matter what their gender is or religion is or caste is. And if a person doesn’t make it out in the world then maybe they are just not cut out for it. Do we want an unqualified person operating on us just because he got an MBBS on the merit of being born in a particular section of the society, do we want a person who knows nothing about the cement to sand ratio building bridges for us, just because he belongs to a protected religion? Then we definitely do not want a woman who knows nothing about politics or policies for that matter ruling over us as mayors, MPs, PMs etc.

Do something only if you are capable of doing it and not because someone handed it over to you in a silver platter and convinced you that you can’t do it on your own. Reservation for women is by far the most degrading of all government policies because it encourages us to be equal to men by protecting us and by making sure we know that we are weak and cannot make it on our own. And the saddest part is most women support this reservation…So much for self will and standing up on your own feet.

TRUCE AT LAST

2005-10-05T17:11:00.000+05:30

I didn’t hate him anymore..I think so. We have fought our silent wars and now both of us have matured.. we have wizened and the reasons that mooted the rivalry seemed trivial.

I had been working as an auditor for about an year. It was my first corporate job and I was just getting the hang of things, corporate politics and above all my job… of all the things in life I never though I would end up as an auditor.. Oh! How I hated auditing!!!!

The chief of our zone had been replaced – this is the guy to whom I address my audit reports. The new guy is some one I have known in the past, he was second in command in another zone. I knew him to be a levelheaded guy and a good decision maker. Our zone was in deep shit and I was sure that if anybody could get us out of this mess, this was the guy..

So it came as a shock, when the first statement he spoke to me was that “I think your work and your department as a whole is a waste of time and resources. I can stand and proclaim the same from any roof top”. How dare he!! That arrogant prick! I fought back my tears. I reasoned with my self, all those self motivation, zero stress theories swamped my head “ when the going gets tough, the tough gets going”, “this is the dog eat dog corporate world”, “don’t let such people get to you”. I had to talk to some one…my Boss. I called him up and went at it for about half an hour… I let loose all my feelings and my Boss patiently listened. At the end of the conversation he chuckled. I was really mad now. Here I was pouring out my frustration to him and he laughs!!!! Then he tells me “I was just imagining the chief on a roof top – that is the best place for him, that’s where you normally find monkeys!” I burst out laughing.. I certainly did not think of some thing like that…..

So that is what he symbolized for me .. an educated ape with an ego the size of the Pacific!

Things at office began to change, drastic changes were made, I heard the good things, I saw the bad events. My colleagues spilled their guts out to me, my shoulder was always readily available for them to weep off office miseries. There were stories of him being rude, sarcastic… that’s what he did his masters in, I’m sure. But the zone was improving.. we could see the changes, sales were up, revenues were inching north, the company’s reputation was improving… he was as I had thought good for the business..very good indeed. I was happy that I was an excellent judge of character.. but God I still hated him.

As per company tradition, birthday boys and girls get a bouquet, cut a cake and then get pasted brutally. It was my birthday. Chief offered me a bouquet and sarcastically asked me “Will you accept this from me?” I shot back “ I don’t seem to get any responses for my audit reports from you, so hell why not, I will take the flowers from you”. The cake was being cut. He invited me to do the honours. I accepted on the condition that I get the biggest piece. He remarked, “Your size demands a big piece”, I retorted, “By that logic, you shouldn’t get any”…. Seems like teenagers fighting.. but that’s me and the Chief.

Then one day, inspiration stuck me and I wrote down a real life incident and sent it to a friend for review. She forwarded it to Chief and a whole bunch of other people. I receive an unexpected call from Chief. He actually read the article. He calls me and says “that’s one of the best pieces of writing I have read in quite a long time”. Oh well! The big man read my article and liked it. He even mentioned it to the entire staff in one of the gatherings.

I’m sure deep down both of us will continue feeling the way we did the first time we met each other and nothing will ever erase the image of him hanging off the rooftop and thumping in chest in blatant proclamation of the futility of my existence. But, hey we have moved on…. After all how long can I stay mad at my fan???!!!

THE GATEKEEPER

2005-10-05T17:08:00.000+05:30

Her fingers had just started delving into her lunch and she hears Apputty call out from inside. Gouri sighs, shakes her hand free of food and gets up from the table. Her knees groan in agony. She is 70, not a young age by any standards. She limps towards the wash basin and in the same topsy turvy walk hurries towards the bedroom hoping that she was not too late. She was indeed too late…Apputty had wet her bed.. It was not the first time and it certainly was not going to be the last. So Gouri went about business in a nonchalant manner. She changed the “mundu” that Apputty was wearing and wearily changed the sheets. By the time she was done her back was aching and she had forgotten all about lunch. She went back into the kitchen and saw her untouched lunch on the table. She put a lid on it and walked off to the porch of the house and sat down. Her tired eyes glazed over…….

Its been more than 3 years since Apputty was totally bed ridden. She was 89. She was Gouri’s aunt. She was one of the assets that Gouri inherited when their ancestral home was being partitioned. She had always been an important part of the family. Every one always said that she was healthier than three generations put together that is until the fateful day she fell. That did it.. Apputty never got up.. she was scared. She was still physically healthy..all her senses functioned perfectly, she ate well and she slept well, but psychologically she was cuckoos. Gouri had been imprisoned in the house since that day.. she could not go anywhere, she could not meet anyone, she could not partake in any family events. Her life had become an endless session of bedpans, wet beds, feedings and midnight awakenings by Apputtys blood curling screams after her nightmares. She also had to constantly put up with complaints that she was not looking after her well enough….

Life certainly had not been a bed of roses since the death of her husband nearly 25 years ago.. but she had managed.. she had put her kids through college, got them married off, tried to get them settled…
Her son was in Daman. Struggling to make ends meet..could not come back home.. he had shamed the family.. he had created debts that the family was still trying to pay off…
At least her daughters were doing well, she thought with a smile… and then a frown creased her forehead..
One of her daughters was divorced, grossly overweight, a compulsive obsessive workaholic with a daughter who could not be exactly classified as normal.. Gouri just wished that she would not live to see the day her grand daughter would be weeping on her moms funeral… that anyway seemed imminent to happen…
Her other daughter had a hobby of collecting all the tensions in the world and then worrying herself to death. But she was still better of the lot.

Wasn’t this the period in life that one was supposed to enjoy with grandchildren.. where was that period of her life.. will she ever see it or enjoy it fully? She knew that if only Apputty ceased to be a shackle in her life… she regretted the thought the moment it entered her mind. How could she think like that??? Had she become like the rest of the world.. cold and heartless.. Had she forgotten that this was the same woman who had cared for her as a child, for her children after her and than for her grandchildren… that this was the same woman who had done the work of 4 people single handedly, that this was the same woman who cried every time something happened to Gouri, that this was the same woman who most probably prayed to God every night to end her life so that Gouri could get on with hers…

Gouri is woken from her reverie by the creaking of the gate. A boy strides very authoritatively into the courtyard… Gouri could not make out the young guy. He had a small carry bag in his hand.. Gouri squinted into the sunlight…She was shocked.. it was her elder grand daughter.. she had come to visit from Coimbatore. What had the girl done to her hair!! Gouri felt tears prick her eyes.. “Ammamma” shouted her granddaughter and Gouri’s world just came alive…she was indeed spending time with her grandkids… life was still beautiful… yes, there were problems but who didn’t have them.. her immediate concerns were transformed.. what to cook for lunch.. what was her favourite??? Renu hugged her grandma so tightly that her frail figure would have broken… Gouri did not mind…once in a while the gates of her lonely life would open to let in a flood of happiness…her life was still beautiful…

TYPICAL TAMIL FOLK

2005-09-30T14:20:00.000+05:30

I felt a trickle of sweat travel slowly from the soft spot behind my right knee to my ankle as if with some divine purpose. My shirt top was stuck to my skin. I was regretting my decision to wear my cotton pants. To top it all, the Mangalore – Coimbatore passenger was moving at such an unbearably slow pace that life, I felt, could not get any more miserable.

What’s so miserable in traveling in a passenger train from Shornur to Coimbatore, you ask. Nothing, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances – these involve me. I am one of those few people on earth who love wallowing in self-pity, which is buttressed by a uniquely strong sense of pessimism. I am someone who thinks that I am overblessed with every thing in life, and hence do not deserve any of the gifts of life like a warm loving home, excellent education, a salary to kill for and two friends who would do anything for me.

Sleep refused to oblige me and I was beat. I started observing the fellow passengers. On my right hand side was a young girl – sleeping beauty. To my left, a fat Muslim lady with 2 kids – surprisingly silent. On the opposite side were what I considered “typical tamil folk” - black, over dressed with no sense of cleanliness what so ever and a kid whose nose kept running. Oh! The misery continues.. what esteemed company!

Come Palakkad and there was a welcome change of scenario. I shift next to my mom, a few seats behind. What seemed a second back like a comparatively empty cubicle was suddenly crowded – we were 5 on each opposing seat and these were also specimen earlier described as “typical tamil folk”. Oh Boy! This just keeps getting better and better. There was something under the seat brushing against my feet, some kind of basket. Shit! 6 of the 8 people apparently knew each other well, some kind of train friends (I thought that this species of women was restricted only to the local trains of Mumbai. Obviously I was wrong!). One of the others left shortly and one of them seemed to have got sucked into the band of friendship, that was forged between the six.

They started speaking in the loudest most obnoxious manner about what I expected “sapad”. My God! Don’t they have any other topic than this.. such low IQ levels and such sub standard people……

I was trying so hard not to listen to the conversation that I was actually paying a lot of attention to it…
“I come home and the entire house is a mess…. My son tells me – u don’t interfere in this mom, my friends were here … what do I do? He would be happy if I were to stay in my quarters”……
“ I am doing a double shift today.. just reached home from the morning shift at 3 in the after noon and here I am going back for the night shift”…
“his friends are too many ….but they are good kids, that’s a relief”…”
“paavam ponnu, let her sleep at least for an hour” all of them helped the girl up to the “luggage only” shaft above the seat…”nee toong ma.. we will call u at Coimbatore”.

I was surprised; I was actually getting interested in the conversation. Mom started talking to the woman next to us, turns out she and the rest of her family work in the Indian railways.. they are 5 sisters..the one sitting opposite to us is one of them, the girl next to her, is her niece.. teaches computers and Hindi at a local school (surprising, I didn’t know that Hindi was taught in Tamil Nadu), stays close to the station, reaches home by 8.00 at night and has to leave the house at 3:00 am for the next shift (when does she sleep? Where does she get the energy to be so bubbly?)… the girl gets up to get something to eat. We, who are totally out of the entire conversation are offered a bite.. we are forced to take our share.. we are offered water after the snack (why are these people so kind to strangers???)
They enquire about us.. when we say that we are from Mumbai …. their eyes open wide with astonishment.. “Is Mumbai a big city?” (such innocence still exists?).. they ask whether we were harmed by the recent floods (why do they care so much???).
They ask about where I live in Coimbatore and where I work…they are worried I might not be able to afford my locality – the most posh area in Coimbatore.. Mom tells them my salary and they are flabbergasted…I earn every month what they cumulatively earn maybe in half a year…I’m embarrassed… but they tell me…”we get pension..we are government employees…you work in a private company.. save all you can now.. you will not get pension” (after knowing the size of my salary they are still worried about me! Are these human beings? Aren’t they jealous???)
There was pookariamma who stays near chinna radio station. Her name is Malli amma.. but every one calls her pookariamma… she goes thrice a week to Kozhikode to sell flowers… that disgusting thing that I stamped and pushed below my seat were her means of livelihood… I whimper and moan to travel a short comfortable journey just because I have to carry a suitcase and a laptop!! And this woman travels from Coimbatore to Calicut to sell flowers!!! They spoke fairly good Malayalam and we spoke pathetic Tamil….Didn’t know when Poddanur arrived..

I was blessed by these people …. Literally.

God blessed me by allowing me to spend an hour of my life with human beings who still care, who are energetic about life, who know to laugh, who are optimistic, who shower affection without condition, who bless from the heart…I was blessed in the company of “typical Tamil folk”!