Life of a Twenty Somebody

And There Shall Be Light

2011-10-06T21:57:00.001+05:30

It is the end of the road and I get down from my car. A cool gentle wind envelopes me and with it, brings the smell of the fishes and the indication that the sea is nearby.

Coconut trees gently sway and ahead of me is a small bridge, wide enough for a scooter to get by. Beyond it are the Sayhadri hills. Towards my left is a four storey building, looking slightly neglected as the paint is peeling off.

A woman wearing a salwar kameez waits for us to disembark and walk towards her. With a smile she welcomes us and informs, “It’s on the fourth floor.” For more, hop over to my new blog here.

What Happens at Work

2011-08-20T22:13:00.003+05:30

goes on this blog.

Our crew: Doing a serious economic news story

Location: A Posh Delhi Neighbourhood

Time: Evening

Main Characters: Lady on an evening walk (L), Colleague (C)

Situation: L after taking 4 rounds of the walking track and bursting with curiosity

L (knocks on door of OB van): Aaj tak ho?

L (cheerfully asks): Kiska murder hua hai?

C: !!

Crew (thinking): Wish we could die in chullu bhar paani

The pitfalls of working in the media industry :|

Meanwhile, please go and read my other blog here

Why Delhi Needs A Slut Walk arthart Besharmi Morcha

2011-07-26T21:42:00.000+05:30

The first time I came to know that Delhi was planning to host a Slut Walk, I was sitting comfortably on a couch in a London home, browsing online and reading about Slut Walks being held across the ‘Western’ world. And then I read the name of my city in that list. I thought I had read it wrong, so I re-read it, shaking my head in disbelief.

To read more, click here.

I also

2011-07-24T21:12:00.001+05:30

blog here now.

Wise Words From a Five Year Old

2011-03-21T11:13:00.001+05:30

This is a conversation I had with my 5 year old nephew (henceforth called S) yesterday while putting him to bed

S: Mausi, you go to the office everyday

Me: yes

S: And you went to school earlier?

Me: yes

S: So you didn’t go to college?

Me: Sweetheart I went to college as well.

S: So you went to school and college and now you go to office?

Me: Yes

S: So why didn't you get married?

Me (laughing): I am trying to find a nice guy

S (very serious tone): Office ko maro goli, ladka dhoondo

Me: !?

The Power of Social Media: Part Deux

2011-03-19T17:09:00.006+05:30

Andy Warhol you didn’t know how epiphanous it was, what you said all those years ago that everyone would get their fifteen minutes of fame.

People and events get you tubed, blogged, tweeted, facebooked, RSSed, liked, disliked. This massive web of interconnectedness swallows and throws up information which can’t be controlled. The internet throws up heroes and anti-heroes more often than you or I change our shirts.

When Alexandra Wallace (refer to my previous post) decided to rant about Asians in the UCLA library, I am sure, she had no idea what she was getting into. And now, hundreds of you tube responses later, after becoming the trending topic of twitter, blogs and main stream American media websites, she has decided to leave UCLA, stating she is scared of the death threats she has received. I am actually feeling a bit sorry for the girl!

Meanwhile let's just listen to this song by Rebecca Black which went viral. Apparently Simon Cowell is impressed by her :D

The Power of Social Media: You Tube-ers Respond to Alexandra Wallace's Rant

2011-03-16T18:34:00.011+05:30

A stereotypical white, blonde UCLA student went off on a (racist?) rant about Asians in the Library. This video went viral on you tube.

The interesting thing about social media and you tube is the immediate response. I am putting up some of the best ones here:

Link here

Link here

Link here

My favourite:

Link here

Adjust Please

2009-11-16T12:03:00.000+05:30

A phrase common to India and a part of Indian psyche is ‘Adjust’. No place to sit in a bus? No problem. We will share a seat and adjust.

Too many cars on the street? No problem, there will be space for one more. Mine. You better ADJUST!

Men want to pee on the roadside? Madam, adjust.

You get whistled or stared at? No problem. Change your route, travel with a male companion, travel in a car. Adjust.

The water heater broke down? Boil water on the gas until the electrician is called and he fixes the problem in.. like a decade. What do you do? Adjust.

You don’t get your broadband signal in your home. You can’t surf the internet properly. You call up the service provider. If you manage to get through, that is. Meanwhile, you just adjust.

This post is sounding like a rant, dear readers, kindly adjust.

26 Things, For the 26 years of my life

2009-11-12T13:31:00.002+05:30

Current mood: Black
Current food craving(s): Warm gooey chocolate; Pasta with pesto, asparagus and pine nuts; Aloo chaat
I am searching for: a direction in my professional life
I wish I didn’t feel: so restless
An observation about me: My mother telling me yesterday that I am too much of a free spirit to do a job
Right now: I would rather be sitting in a coffee shop - reading or writing
A dream: To be a published author; Have a job which entails adventure, challenge, travelling and happiness
In my previous life: I am sure I was a boho living by the Mediterranean sea in an artists’ quarter
I can be happy: sitting under a tree on a summer day and observing butterflies chase each other
An oxymoronic thing I want: A slow and meaningful life in a fast paced city
I end up usually: contradicting myself
I am fascinated by: people – everyone is a mystery to be unraveled
A hidden ability: making cartoon sketches of myself and people around me
I want to learn: contemporary dance, tai chi and a foreign language
My favourite radio stations: Hit 95 FM (in India), Classic FM (in UK)
My favourite part of the day: Late night
My favourite colours: Purple, Shades of aquamarine, Black, Grey and Brown
A thing I could change about myself: My constant chronic-worrier-thinker syndrome
My favourite artists: Vincent Van Gogh, Banksy
My favourite poison(s): Red wine (Merlot), Morgan’s spiced with coke and a sliver of lime, G&T
I listen to: all kinds of music except metal, heavy metal and electronica
I read: everything except science fiction
I watch: almost everything except horror films
A gadget I want: A digital SLR camera
A gadget I want to replace: My big laptop with a smaller, lighter one
Current desire: To own a Hervé Léger bandage dress and a pair of Christian Louboutin pumps

Anyone wants to take up the tag? TD, Sindhu, Vrij, Pras... c'mon guys!

Shattered

2009-11-12T11:36:00.002+05:30

When the pieces fall down

And break your heart

Tears well up

But refuse to trickle down

When you want to cry in anguish

Instead you smile

Your agitation hidden inside

A storm brewing up

You hope the path that has been laid down

Is the one which will bring you happiness

Kashmakash and my blog's birthday

2009-11-09T11:51:00.002+05:30

For the first time in my life, I have been in a state of dilemma since the last couple of months. I used to be one of those people who knew what they wanted and worked towards getting it. And now I am one of those people who don't know what they want. This is totally killing me. Aaarghh!!!

Anyway, amidst all the kashmakash, my blog turned four in October. This year I haven't written many posts and haven't blog-hopped as much as I used to. I miss the old O3 gang. I have no idea where most of them are. I hope are all okay and sometimes think of the good old days :) I hope to be more regular, here at my blog and around in the blogosphere.

Till the next post, Adios!

General Update

2009-10-31T14:50:00.004+05:30

I am back in India. The first few days were the worst when I missed everything about being in the UK (sounds so clichéd but it really is not). I had a fantastic year and now I only have memories and photographs and little souvenirs to remind me of that year.

Life seems in a state of transition. However going back to the grind of the work, a book deal in the works, a PhD offer from my University, everything seems so confusing and distressing. Anway, just to let you all know - I am alive and managing to survive moving continents (again!), uprooting myself, starting over again and if a couple of things work out then moving again sometime next year.

Till then adios!

P.S: I got an email from IndiBlogger informing me that my blog is ranked 48th out of 100. Thanks guys! I seriously thought no one really reads this blog.

Current Status

2009-09-04T03:19:00.004+05:30

Changes and decisions

Taking chances

Praying that the gamble works

And things fall into place

---------------------------------

On another note, read this absolutely brilliantly written essay by Rana Dasgupta for Granta. It's a very interesting piece on Delhi.

Capital Gains

It all comes together on the roads.

Delhi is a segregated city; an impenetrable, wary city – a city with a fondness for barbed wire, armed guards and guest lists. Though its population now knocks up against 20 million, India’s capital remains curiously faithful to the spirit of the British administrative enclave with which it began: Delhiites admire social rank, name-dropping and exclusive clubs, and they snub strangers who turn up without a proper introduction.

---------------------------------

Oh by the way - I am done with my Masters!!!!!!!!!!! I handed in my 15,000 word independent research. And it was a bit of an anti-climax because when you spend an year working on it (and the last two moths exculsively) you go and hand it in and that's it. You just go and give it. And they take it. Finito. Maybe, in my head, I was expecting cheers and people clapping and arti and tikka and fireworks and a medal. Damn! Nothing. Nada.Zilch. Zero. The only consolation was that I partied 14 hours straight. You read that right. One. Four. FOURTEEN. So exhausted and tired. And unfortunatley I have no time to breathe and move onto the next thing. Lovely blogger people - wish me luck because I am taking a chance with my career and throwing caution to the wind (the whole thing which comes with being young and able to chances and being single with no responsibilites and all that stuff).

So Excited

2009-08-21T16:46:00.002+05:30

There was a documentary film I was a part of (acted in it) and it's been selected for a film festival and will be screened in New Delhi. Pity I will most likely miss it as I am in the UK. And don't know how much of me got edited on the chopping board but still I am so super excited!!!

My meals yesterday

2009-08-05T00:23:00.003+05:30

consisted of:

Chocolate Donut

Chocolate Brownie

Gingerbread Man

Frech Fries

Chocolate Gateau

Samosas

Doritos with salsa dip and wasabi

Pepsi

I died and went to junk food heaven :D

On another note: My beloved laptop has crashed JUST before the dissertation is due and I died a bit and had a mini meltdown. And, with all this drama, I am moving houses in the middle of the week and moing counties early next month! Will update this blog if I survive all that.......

I am

2009-07-26T17:20:00.003+05:30

in complete panic mode that the dissertation is not coming along like it should. I am SO super idiot for whiling away time.

P.S: Mumbai bloggers and others who can help check this out (via Annie Zaidi's blog)

Black Love

2009-07-16T23:41:00.004+05:30

Wish I was in the deep dark place

And stayed there forever

Black roses entwined

In a garden where death grows

Because I am crashing like never before

Melted Wings

2009-07-14T19:09:00.007+05:30

You gave me wings

And now you are taking them away

I am falling down

Waiting for a hand to catch me

Looking at the stars

Hoping for the moon

I feel the cold air on my face

As I see the earth

Ready to swallow me

As darkness readies

To envelope me

Being single

2009-07-13T19:20:00.001+05:30

is not a crime.

Feeling gay and happy about 377

2009-07-02T16:03:00.002+05:30

It's never too late. Finally the Delhi High Court has decided to decriminalize homosexuality. It's not a crime, not a disease, not unnatural. Way to go Delhi (and hopefully the rest of India)!

Official document here

International media response here and here

Twitter updates here

Sarkozy un'veils' his agenda

2009-06-22T23:22:00.004+05:30

French President today told the French parliament that burka "undermines the dignity " of women depriving them of their identity. This statement is probably going to create furore as Muslim groups in France have reacted angrily. He may not have been politically correct in saying what he said and should expect a backlash from the Middle East.

For once I agree with Sarko because I do think that an identity of a woman is reduced to the tent she is wearing. However much it may be said that it is her choice, it's the social conditioning or pressure which allows these women to make a 'choice' if it is a choice. While critics argue that women wearing lesser clothing doesn't make them 'liberated', I think a woman needs to have a choice to wear or not wear whatever she wants without her action, intentions and thoughts questioned. And when we reach this utopian situation, then we can say we are free.

And after all that fuss...

2009-06-19T00:08:00.004+05:30

I am not moving out! They renewed my contract for the next few months. But I am excited as one of my flatmates is staying back and a couple of friends are moving in. So I will be in happy land in the next few months :)

I didn't want to miss out on mid night walks contemplating whether the snail who lives near the bushes got home that night and whether the slug (fondly called sluggie) sat happily on the food menu pamphlet after we left.

And a friend set the fire alarm ringing when she decided to bake cookies and scones at 1 AM! Of course as a punishment, she fed me some fresh off the oven scones as we sat by the stairs, on a moonlit night and talked about life, about the cities we love and music and art.

The time when I knocked on a friend's window (he lives on the gound floor) at 3 AM and asked - Do you want to go for a walk? After recovering from the shock, he gallantly braved the rain to discuss the women in his life with me.

And the time when I raced a friend around a block or the time when we threw snowballs at random people and I confess, we wrote romatic love notes and left them in random letter boxes in our blocks.

Or the time we dressed up for halloween and giggled like school kids who were going for a fancy dress party. The times we made disasters in the kitchen to making pancakes and feeling like we were the best cooks in the entire world.

Or when we laughed and cried and hugged and smiled and discussed crushes and men. This is one girlfriend for life (and I can count the number of female friends I have on my right hand).

A few more months of late night chats over a cup of tea, stressing about our dissertations, laughing, loving, crying, doing grocery shopping, travelling, talking, wondering what life holds for is and then we will all be gone. In different directions. In different parts of the world. Here's to all the lovely men and women I have met this year.

All that fuss about a Table?

2009-06-03T23:44:00.005+05:30

Everytime I sit at the study table in my tiny room here, I wonder about the people who stayed here before and what memories they have, sitting in this room.

I wonder about those who did not have a laptop. Did they just have a stack of books? What about the sloppy ones who had leftovers or a pile of clothes there? Maybe someone else was a neat freak. Did they study hard? Did they get drunk and pass out?

What are they doing now? And do they remember the table (of all the things to remember about living in uni halls!)? My memories are of 'trying' to work on my essays there. And doing movie/TV shows marathons on my beloved laptop with my knees scrunched up between the table and the chair.

The only reason why I have written this really random post is coz I am moving out of here in a couple weeks and going to live in another place with new flatmates and make new memories. Till then I'll hang on to the..err...table here.

Link of the day: India get it's first female Lok Sabha speaker

Forecast for the next few months

2009-06-02T04:30:00.002+05:30

says:

Changes! Changes! Changes!

Decisions! Decisions! Decisions!

Note to self: Hang in there

Note to others: Wish me luck

I shake the dusty cobwebs

2009-05-16T00:32:00.003+05:30

and find no spiders scurrying about. Which is a good sign usually.

What I really meant is I still find an odd comment on the blog even though it's virtually been a dead blog.

I was reading my old posts and thinking of the time when I was full of trepidiation before moving here. And I don't really know where the time has gone. I remember September and first day of classes and the last of classes has come now. There are group photos on facebook and I can't really get over the fact that it ended so soon. Yeah I still have exams and a 15,000 word independent research which I have to do over the summer.

I've had a great time this year, studying, meeting interesting people, working for a lifestyle magazine here, working with an independent film group and super excited that we are doing a film on graffitti art and I get to research on Banksy's work (my fav artist) apart from local artists here and working as an actor in a couple of student films, managing to stay almost at the top of the class and yes exploring the pubs apart from cooking. Phew!

Hence no time to blog :(

I'll be back soon, my lovely blog readers. Stay tuned people!

I am

2009-04-04T13:10:00.001+05:30

tweeting now.

I am alive

2009-03-15T04:34:00.000+05:30

but off blogging.

Will be back soon!

Belligerent China, Meek India

2009-02-27T06:12:00.004+05:30

While China understands the importance of soft power and cultural integration, India doesn’t really care:

The great-grandson of Mohandas K. Gandhi said Monday that he has launched a fundraising campaign to buy a rare collection of the Indian independence leader's personal items that are up for auction and bring them back to India.

China on the other hand, does this:

It has issued orders making it difficult for Christie's to do business in China after the auction house sold two Chinese cultural relics on Wednesday.

And that, my dear friends, shows the difference in the attitude of the two neighbouring countries.

A page

2009-02-21T07:05:00.004+05:30

A blank page

Like the canvas of a painter

Words it needs

Like a splash of colour

Where do I begin

I wonder

Still Enraged But Back With The Pink Chaddi Campaign

2009-02-10T22:12:00.010+05:30

For those who think that women should not have equal rights as men, should be treated like cattle, if possible, someone had to tell them they got it wrong. They have got crusaders on the internet and in this age of information 'warfare' I proudly jump into the fray with support for the 'Pink Chaddi Campaign'.

I won't be able to send mine, being so far, I will definitely be a part of the 'Pub Bharo' action. And all the people who read my blog, most lurkers who never comment, or if you just landed here somehow, please become a part of the campaign.

What happened in Mangalore can happen in your city. For men - this could happen to your girl friends, wives, sisters. Let's show 'em that Ram Sena isn't the answer to 'eroding of culture', it is the cause of it. Because what culture teaches you to be disrecpectful to women?

Also check out

Thirty Six and Counting

And which century do we live in?

2009-01-27T22:42:00.003+05:30

What happened in Mangalore is not just despicible, it is shocking. Since when do we need a moral police to tell us what is right or wrong? Isn't India a democratic nation? What's the brohuaha about being the 'world's biggest democracy' if you can't let people, adults at that, decide whether they want to sit in a lounge bar and have a drink.

If you are so concerned about being moralistic, is this how you treat women? Are they meant to be beaten, pulled by their hair and called a whore? Since when did this become right?

And you might think, have a little hope that the moral brigade (who assume they have a right to molest and traumatize women - being a democratic country and all) might be brought to books for this dastard act. You are wrong. Democracy in India, it seems, doesn't work both ways. It only works for political elites. Pramod Muthalik, who by the way got arrested for 'inticing communal violence', a case pending from years ago, had this gem to add - "It's a small incident and we were only working against obscenity in public." Yeah right.

I rest my case.

All the little bits... II

2009-01-24T00:06:00.014+05:30

January is almost coming to an end and for the first time I have loathed the month so much. It just doesn't seem to end, while I meander away time sleeping, sleeping and more sleeping while strains of western classical music fill up my room. And it's not just the sleeping - I sleep at 5 every morning, waking up sometime in the afternoon. Everyday. People tell me its the English-weather-post-holiday-season-depression. Whatever it is, I am so glad that classes start soon!

On to more cheerful things, here are some holiday season pics. We went to the German Christmas market in our city, complete with German beer, mulled wine, sausages, knick-knacks, curios and a proper fair.

A couple of days later I woke up as I heard my flatmate squeal, "Look out of the window" and heard another one jump and that's when I got out of my bed and was greeted with snow, which apparantly brought everything to a stand still in this part of England, except of course me who was busy clicking photos!

And it was end of December soon as my friends and I headed over to London to celebrate the New Year. The city, throbbing, illuminated with christmas lights and hoardes of tourists. We discovered a bar made completely of ice and by far, is the coolest (or coldest!) place I have visited in the city. We then went ice skating and then it was time for the fireworks by the Thames as 700,000 people gathered togther to usher in the New Year.

While one evenful year came to an end, another one began. And now I am wondering what to make of the 'The curious case of missing post'. Because as I hopped over to God's to claim my award, that post has disappeared!

All the little bits...

2009-01-16T00:46:00.013+05:30

Warning: Long-ish post :D

Heylo dear blogger friends. Sorry for disappearing on you all. I am fine and alive! Here's wishing you a super duper Happy New Year :)

A lot has happened the last month - from laptop crashing, to it getting repired in a month and I becoming laptop-junkie-to-laptop-deadddict, to a second wave of this and crazy deadline in mid-december and then partying-like-there's no-tomorrow to coming back to a cold-grey-damp-gloomy-and-depressing winter and finding a deadline staring in my face middle of this month and me completing my first semester here. Phew!

Now that we are done with the headlines, the news in detail

As promised before, I am doing this blog post about a holiday I managed to squeeze in while I had assignments hanging down at me like a nooze. I went for a day trip to this beautiful, quaint town called York. As we walked out of the train station and walked towards the city, we saw the River Ouse.

We then went to York Minsiter which is supposed to be the largest catherdal in North of Europe. The Christmas midnight mass conducted here is broadcast on BBC radio throughout England!

Then we wandered around in The Shambles and other small, narrow lanes with cobbled footpaths where buskers at each corner would fill up the streets with music as tudor style buildings would loom upon us. And there was a road called 'Swinegate'!

The town is famous for its tea rooms and cafes.

What is a British town without pubs? We went to 'Kings Arms', a pub which floods when the water level of the river rises!

We went to Clifford's Tower which was our last pit stop for the day.

And with this our trip came to an end and we trooped back home.

Next blog post: Snow, Christmas and a New Year spent in London with a dozen of my uni
friends!

An Award and a Tag of 150!

2008-12-08T04:19:00.011+05:30

After the shocking and sad turn of events in Mumbai, I have been off blogging, not to mention my laptop has crashed and I have a deadline looming!

I was just blog-hoping and realized that Sindhu just gave me this award. My first ever! And here I was cribbing to God, asking him what will it take to get me one (I was thinking of presenting him with under-the-table-dealings of 100 crates of HAW). Thanks sistah! You rock!

I had to follow these rules if I had to accept them!

Put the logo on your blog
Link the person who awarded it to you
Link the bloggers you are about to honour

And ones that are going to be honored are

Moai

Curious

Vrij

----------

I stumbled upon this tag from Chandni's blog. Its a fun list of 150 things you have done before you turned 30. I have mine marked out in bold. And I still have 5 more years to work on rest of the list. I tag Curious, Sindhu, TD, God, Vrij, Rags and Moai to do this list :)

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink

02. Swam with dolphins

03. Climbed a mountain (Okay.. only half.. does that count?)

04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive

05. Been inside the Great Pyramid

06. Held a tarantula

07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone

08. Said “I love you” and meant it

09. Hugged a tree (When I was in school)

10. Bungee jumped

11. Visited Paris (It didn’t live up to my expectations :( )

12. Watched a lightning storm at sea

13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise (When I used to study for my exams!)

14. Seen the Northern Lights

15. Gone to a huge sports game

16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa

17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables (When I was small, we had a kitchen garden in our home)

18. Touched an iceberg

19. Slept under the stars

20. Changed a baby’s diaper (Was scared of the wailing baby but still managed!)

21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon

22. Watched a meteor shower

23. Gotten drunk on champagne

24. Given more than you can afford to charity

25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope

26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment (Happened when someone farted)

27. Had a food fight (We were happy and drunk and the rest is history :D)

28. Bet on a winning horse

29. Asked out a stranger

30. Had a snowball fight (On facebook!)

31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can

32. Held a lamb

33. Seen a total eclipse (On TV)

34. Ridden a roller coaster (A tame version in Appu Ghar)

35. Hit a home run

36. Danced like a fool and didn’t care who was looking (this – I am an expert at!)

37. Adopted an accent for an entire day

38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment (I do quite often)

39. Had two hard drives for your computer (Recently)

40. Visited all 50 states

41. Taken care of someone who was drunk (Again – very recently)

42. Had amazing friends (*Touchwood*)

43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country (Just 5 days back!)

44. Watched whales

45. Stolen a sign

46. Backpacked in Europe (An experience which changed my life)

47. Taken a road-trip

48. Gone rock climbing

49. Taken a midnight walk on the beach

50. Gone sky diving

51. Visited Ireland

52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love

53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them

54. Visited Japan

55. Milked a cow

56. Alphabetized your CDs

57. Pretended to be a superhero

58. Sung karaoke

59. Lounged around in bed all day (My favourite pastime)

60. Played touch football

61. Gone scuba diving

62. Kissed in the rain

63. Played in the mud

64. Played in the rain (When I was younger)

65. Gone to a drive-in theatre

66. Visited the Great Wall of China

67. Started a business

68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken

69. Toured ancient sites (In India and Europe)

70. Taken a martial arts class (To scare away all the lecherous men in Blue line buses)

71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight

72. Gotten married

73. Been in a movie (An ad film for a class assignment)

74. Crashed a party

75. Gotten divorced

76. Gone without food for 5 days

77. Made cookies from scratch

78. Won first prize in a costume contest

79. Ridden a gondola in Venice

80. Gotten a tattoo (one of those stick on ones which we used to get with bubblegum)

81. Rafted the Snake River

82. Been on a television news program as an “expert”

83. Gotten flowers for no reason

84. Performed on stage (In school :) )

85. Been to Las Vegas

86. Recorded music

87. Eaten Shark

88. Kissed on the first date

89. Gone to Thailand

90. Bought a house

91. Been in a combat zone (When doing a story)

92. Buried one/both of your parents

93. Been on a cruise ship

94. Spoken more than one language fluently (Hindi and English)

95. Performed in Rocky Horror

96. Raised children

97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour

98. Passed out cold

99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country

100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over (Am doing it right now!)

101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge

102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking with the windows open

103. Had plastic surgery

104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived

105. Wrote articles for a large publication (as a journalist)

106. Lost over 100 pounds

107. Held someone while they were having a flashback

108. Piloted an airplane

109. Touched a stingray

110. Broken someone’s heart (A couple of them along the way…)

111. Helped an animal give birth

112. Won money on a TV game show

113. Broken a bone

114. Gone on an African photo safari

115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears

116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol

117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild

118. Ridden a horse (In Mussoorie and Shimla)

119. Had major surgery

120. Had a snake as a pet

121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon

122. Slept for 30 hours in a 48 hour period (After I did my last assignment)

123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. States

124. Visited all 7 continents

125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days

126. Eaten kangaroo meat

127. Eaten sushi (Two weeks back)

128. Had your picture in the newspaper (only my name)

129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about

130. Gone back to school (I am doing it right now)

131. Parasailed

132. Touched a cockroach (in our bathroom - I had to kill the poor bastard *evil laugh*)

133. Eaten fried green tomatoes

134. Read The Iliad and The Odyssey

135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read (Lots actually)

136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

137. Skipped all your school reunions

138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language (With a foreigner I had a crush on ;) )

139. Been elected to public office

140. Written your own computer language

141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream (Always do!)

142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care

143. Built your own PC from parts

144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you

145. Had a booth at a street fair

146. Dyed your hair (Red. Yes you read that right R-E-D but it wasn’t permanent colour and wouldn’t show on my black mane :( )

147. Been a DJ

148. Shaved your head

149. Caused a car accident (When I was learning to drive)

150. Saved someone’s life

Updated: Mumbai bleeds again...

2008-11-27T01:13:00.014+05:30

as does my heart as I sit in a far away land watching things unfold.

Update (27th Nov):

A cousin was in Taj Hotel and has managed to get out alive. A friend was in Mumabi and he's fine. The worrying thing is a we can't contact another friend and she has been with me in school since we were three years old. No news is good news - I keep telling myself. Everyone please pray.

Mumbai bloggers - TD, Malini, Pesh & PBH, Maxx, Punky - anyone please let me know if they are okay.

Images on a TV screen flick in front of me as I see people dying, blood, gore, bombs going off, grenade attacks, random gun fire shots, bodies, buildings going up in flames. This is not Iraq, not even Afghanistan, not even closer home - Kashmir. This is Mumbai. The financial capital of India. A throbbing metropolis. A safe city in a democratic nation. Not a city in a war zone. But it has turned into one in the past 24 hours.

Update (28 Nov):

Its not 24 or 30, its 48 hours. Of carnage. Of bloodshed. Of death. Of gloom. Of despair. We have managed to contact my friend. She is fine. But for some the news is bad as fellow blogger Chandni tells about her friend's father.

Update (29 Nov):

From 48, it has become 62. 62 bloodly hours of hell. Almost 200 dead and 300 injured and plans to blow up the Taj, making it India's 9/11.

Since words fail me, I bring these images of the last three days. A mumbai based blogger Arun Shanbhag captures the ordeal of three days through his lens (Day 1, Day 2, Day 3).

Update (30 Nov.):

This account by AP sums it up.

Here are pictures, courtsey TD's blog.

For live coverage watch here.

A Quirky Tag

2008-11-17T00:26:00.003+05:30

Tagged by the God, this Goddess couldn't refuse and here goes my list of eccentricities.

1. I love doing dishes. I think when I will be on my death bed and someone will say there are dishes to do, I'll just get up and do it! No seriously, I would until they sparkle and shine.

Now that I think of it, I like doing dishes and I want to marry a chef because I hate cooking, maybe in my past like I worked in a restaurant or a tavern...and then I ran away with the chef and got married? Hmmm... could be possible. What do you guys think?

2. I fold my clothes a certain way. The sleeves have to be tucked into the inside folds and the clothes have to make a proper rectangle. And if you take a peek in my cupboard and my clothes aren't folded this way, you can tell I am really stressed out.

3. I don’t like anything which is too sweet so eating mithai with namkeen is perfectly acceptable to me just like the other day I had samosa with panjeeri (yum!) and chocolates with chips (absolutely yum!).

4. I can be shy and brash and then shy again in a span of 5 minutes and can make people around me comfortable and embarrassed and then comfortable again without batting an eyelid.

These are the only weird things I am revealing about myself.... stick around and you might find more ;)

Cheers!!

P.S: I went for a day trip to a beautiful town in northern England. A travel post comes up soon!

My life since the past few weeks!

2008-11-15T01:36:00.001+05:30

Assignment deadlines and a new found addiction to oreos!

The Waltz

2008-10-28T02:00:00.002+05:30

The waltz begins again
Even before the last dance has ended
A step forward
A step backward

Sometimes in tandem
Sometimes not
At times fumbling and hesitant
At others confident and sure

She looks at him
And all the old fears rush back
As she maintains composure
There is a torrent inside

The struggles have begun
She is torn inside
And she can walk away
She assures herself

She sees the signs
The pattern starts to repeat
Will she dance again
Will she be free

And the waltz begins again
Even before the last dance has ended
A step forward
A step backward

P.S: Wishing everyone A very happy and properous Diwali

P.P.S: God... I'll do the tag after this post...

Birthday and Anniversary

2008-10-14T00:18:00.004+05:30

I just realized it was my blog's third birthday on 11th. And with each passing year I wonder how long will I last. Will I get bored and pack up and leave? As of now.. it hasn't happened.

On Friday, I will complete my one month anniversary of coming to the University. I have not only survived but have graduated to kneading dough and making pananthas to making paneer ki subzi. And I have started calling my apartment (notice the my) my home. Someone calls and I go like, "Oh! I am walking to my home" or "I'll be home this evening" or something like that. You get the point....

It seems a lot of things happen in October for me... I wonder why!

Girl Bonding, Brollies, Jane Austen, Sabzis and Studies

2008-10-03T02:00:00.009+05:30

Amidst classes, presentations, seminars, books, cooking and socializing, I bring the latest updates...

Having flatmates from different countries means, we have interesting cultural exchanges, different eating habits and different languages. Over the last few weeks we have gone from saying polite Hellos and Goodbyes in the hallways to mid night chats, cute men-boys spotting at the uni to making plans for travelling in the Christmas break! I, for one, have had problems with catty women, bimbos etc. and for the first time I have actually bonded with women.

And I have also found that when it rains and the shoes and jeans get wet, never keep down the umbrella to the side and roll up the jeans. Because gales in this part of the world with take away your beloved umbrella and you will be running half a kilometer to catch it, wearing a coat and carrying a huge rucksack and generally making a fool of yourself. Eventually the wind will put down the brolly in the middle of a traffic intersection, bringing the traffic to a halt and you will then retrive the offending object while mumbling sorry.

Another day when I can hear the chilly wind beating the windows, happy that I am inside the warm apartment, I will envision myself to be a chef. And will makes aloo-beans, mixed vegetable, dal, rice and whip up a yummy raita. I will eat like a glutton and then proceed to fall asleep!

While we are at the topic of chilly winds and gales, I always get reminded to English classics whenever I think of gales, moors, rolling green fields, rain and elegant ladies. I have got hooked onto this Drama called 'Lost in Austen'. Its about a young Londoner swapping places with Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. The purists would probably baulk at it but I find the series very creative, witty and funny. Its interesting how you anticipate something and the complete opposite happens and all the characters in the book are doing what they are not supposed to do! In case you can access it online, do watch it here.

While I entertain myself watching the above, I notice a whole stack of books and notes in front of me but I am uninspired to read until the deadline looms in front of me. In which case, I will be up the whole night trying to study. Looking at other students in the class who have come fresh from under graduate studies and who take copious notes in the class, I wonder if I have missed out on some important bits. It would be also interesting to note how they would behave like scared lambs, quite unsure of themselves. And it reminds me of how I was at that age. And that's when I begin to feel old!

More updates will happen as days go by.... Till then... Cheers!!

Tagged for twenty

2008-09-23T15:18:00.004+05:30

Heylo everyone! I've finally moved to my university and have been meeting people from across the globe which is so exiciting!! After shmoozing with all the new people and trying Irish céilidh dance, Salsa and other new things, I am back on blogosphere..

I got tagged by Sindhu and here goes my twenty-

1. If your lover betrayed you, what will your reaction be?
I would be shocked at first and then I would walk away and never forgive that person

2. If you can have a dream to come true, what would it be?
Win a booker prize for a novel which I write

3. Whose butt would you like to kick?
Right now... no one's

4. What would you do with a billion dollars?
Travel across the world, invest some, give some to my family, buy all the creature comforts that I can... :)

5. Will you fall in love with your best friend?
Ooh... Maybe...

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?
This one is a no-brainer... being loved is a blessing...

7. How long do you intend to wait for someone you really love?
Depends which alter ego of mine takes over - the practical one or the romantic one...

8. If the person you secretly like is already attached, what would you do?
Wait for him to break with his current girl friend and make my move (nah! just kidding)
I'll keep it platonic...

9. If you like to act with someone, who will it be? your gf/bf or an actress/actor?
An actor.. for sure...

10. What takes you down the fastest?Turn off?
Smoking, Lying, Cheating, Showing-off

11. How would you see yourself in ten years time?
Journalist, Writer,Photographer, Wife, Mother

12. What’s your fear?
Dying at a young age

13. What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
Sweet, dreamer and a romatic.. Am I right, Sindhu? :)

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married but poor?
I don't mind being either...

15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?
Stop the annoying alarm clock!

16. Would you give all in a relationship?
Of course

17. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously, who would you pick?
I don't think I can fall in love with two people at the same time... Though I have no idea what I would do...

18. Would you forgive and forget, no matter how horrible a thing someone has done?
No...never

19. Do you prefer being single or having a relationship?
I see the perks of both.. I can't decide one

20. List 6 people to tag

I think almost everyone I know is tagged, but if you are not then I tag you

Also I tag

Moai
TD
Niceguy

Landed in London and finding India here...

2008-09-06T12:38:00.007+05:30

A quick post to let you know that I have landed in London. It was sooo cold yesterday (almost like winters) but I decided to 'brave' the rain and chilly wind to meet a couple of friends for a Friday night dinner, learnt a bit of Spanish, taught a bit of Hindi, was promptly treated to Indian food and passed by a gay bar which was playing the song 'main talli ho gayi'!

Update (8th Sept)
The weekend was spent eating spicy South Indian food and discovering kaantey wali lichees from Africa and spending a lovely afternoon catching an exhibition on old Ramayana manuscripts which were discovered by Prince of Mewar followed by hogging mexican food at Giraffe.

I'll update more as the first few weeks go by...

Till then, cheers!!

Baby, I am on fire!!

2008-08-28T17:15:00.012+05:30

So today was the first day I actually cooked! I made rice for the first time and no it didn't get burnt. I totally rock or what!

Being a closet feminist I have this great fear that for the rest of my life I'll have to thanklessly cook not just for myself but for a future husband and kids (Hint: Any chefs out there? Maybe I can marry you). I don't want to get stuck in the cycle I was hoping to delay my foray into the kitchen as much as possible but well I had to do it someday. And today it was.

Anyway, the date for leaving is coming closer. Its exactly a week now. And like all desis my suitcases are full of things like pressure cooker (of which I am intensely afraid of) , masalas and ladoos (which my cousin made for me).

And my ex-colleagues who very sweetly gave me a farewell party and loads of gifts like an ipod Nano and a beautiful wrist watch which shows dual time and the support staff gave me a wonderful parker pen.

And no, the gifts don't stop there. My friends gave me a gorgeous blue top and a collage of our photographs.

And my shiny new laptop is waiting for me in London.

And i'll update this post as more things happen.

Till then adios!

Update (Sept 3, 9.00 A.M): Leaving in 24 hours :O

Peak Into My Head

2008-08-22T20:59:00.010+05:30

I stumbled upon the Visual DNA site after a long time and I decided to do this for a lark! If you were to peak into my head, you would probably find this :)

It has been ages since we all tagged each other. So I tag

TD
Sindhu
Curious
Vrij

Go ahead, do the tag and then tag four more people...

Endings and New Beginings

2008-08-08T22:44:00.005+05:30

So, today was my last day of work. It feels like a chapter which has been closed.

It's weird to say your goodbyes, put your stuff in a box (that's three years of your life) and walk out of the office teary-eyed. I can't imagine myself getting emotional and crying because I always prided myself to be one of those people who think with their head and not their heart.

The last few days have been like this - close a bank account here, a phone connection there...

Then sign the lease contract for the apartment at the University, send some documents for my course work etc.

So there are endings and new beginings and life continues...

P.S: For the first time in this season the monsoon has shown its full glory in Delhi. I am loving it.... :)

Down The Memory Lane Again

2008-08-04T13:34:00.004+05:30

I was reading about the French revolution recently. The gore and the bloodshed which ensued as people were slaughtered by the guillotine. Suddenly my memories flew back to 7th grade English literature class.

Circa 1994

I remember reading a classic called ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’ which was about a brave Englishman who saved the French aristocrats from the guillotine.

I remember that when the rest of the class was on 3rd chapter, I had finished reading the entire book. The intrigue, the hidden identity of the hero and the French spies filled the mind of an 11 year old girl and she couldn’t stop turning pages until she had read the story to its end.

I remember visualizing the foggy shores of Dover and cliffs of Calais, the English channel, green and beautiful Richmond and the various characters in the book.

Fast forward to 2003

I was 20 years old, crossing the English channel for my first ever trip to Europe. I could barely contain my excitement as one night I would be going from Dover and reaching Calais from there in a few hours.

I must confess that it was a bit of a let down, and all because of the modern marvels of the world. When my coach reached Dover, we were loaded onto an under water train and after a while we alighted at the Calais train station. I didn’t see the foggy shores of Dover or the cliffs of Calais, only the modern structures of the train station and the train underneath the water.

Hopefully, this time around, as I go for an year, I will try travelling by the more traditional method – a steamer and hopefully it won’t be a let down!

Catch the e-book here. Though nothing beats reading an actual book whose pages you can turn.

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In a completely unrelated incident, I spent the weekend in dusty heartlands of Uttar Pradesh and forgot to pick up my stock of sweet cigarettes. Does anyone know where can I buy them in Delhi?

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Also has anyone ever visited Khurja? I was blown away by the amazing pottery and ceramic work (again)! I could have bought everything but one thing caught my eye - a boat shaped tea cup. It was innovatively carved and I absolutely had to buy it and I will definitely take it saat samunder paar with me :)

Random funny incident of the day

2008-08-01T12:46:00.001+05:30

I was going to Gurgaon for work and I stopped to ask a thulla (police man) for directions.

Me: XYZ constructions kahan chal rahe hain?

Thulla (Very eager to help a journalist): Madam, yeh Erection (Eriksson) ki building key samney Contraction (Construction) chal raha hai.

Me (Ready to burst into peals of laughter): Thank you

In a Banana Republic...

2008-07-28T11:09:00.007+05:30

... this will happen one day after this has happened.

Update: And this will happen a day later.

Random Stuff

2008-07-15T14:55:00.021+05:30

I came across this cool word-cloud thingie called Wordle from Annie Mole's blog :D

So I decided to share it with you all...

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In other news, I came across a news article on the BBC website saying that Banksy's identity has been revealed. You are probably wondering who is this. This is a guy who is a 'grafiti artist' alternatively called a 'guerrilla artist' and his art has been termed as 'vandalism'. You can see it popping across countries leaving a social or political message. His claim to fame- being anonymous while he goes about doing his thing!

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While on the topic of public spaces and guerrila art, the lastest is that 'guerrilla gardeners' are weeding out wild foliage in concrete jungles. While we are at it, it would be crazy and fun if someone does this at the Delhi metro or a Mumbai train station!

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Untitled

2008-07-03T18:48:00.004+05:30

Oh Mother! Look I killed my brother
You taught me this
When I was born
You said he was the enemy
And now they tell me – he was my friend

The hatred you taught me
And the colours – saffron and green
You said they were meant to be apart

I did it in Ayodhya
And in Bhagalpur
I went to Ghodhra
While passing through Mumbai
I did it in Benaras and Jaipur too

And now we point fingers at each other
And kill each other without blinking an eye
Oh Mother! Is this all you could teach me?

History books say we fought against each other centuries ago
But together 60 years ago
And now we are fighting against each other again
History repeats itself – some admonish me
History teaches – others say

But isn’t it a losing battle
Eye for eye makes us blind, Gandhi said
Oh Mother! Aren’t we blind enough already?

Are you waiting for the day, when in darkness we can’t see
Will you be filled with glee
Or will you be angst ridden
Are you waiting for us to learn another lesson
Or have we come too far already

--------------------------

Update

There are many people who we interact with, who don't just keep the prejudices in their hearts but systematically spread them too. Only if they were given the power to see what lies on the other side, were given unbiased information, they would be able to decide what they want to believe in and discard propaganda.

A movement called 'anti-tags' stems from that idea. It is anti-communalism, anti-extremism and anti-polarization and pro-information. Some might also call it secular, liberal or even pseudo-secular-liberal. It believes tags don't matter because it just wants to be the bridge that closes the gap between the 'real' and the 'assumed'.

How Can You Help?

Tell us your story. Did you face communal backlash? Did an incident change you? What do you think of propaganda in media and politics? How is it ruining our social fabric?Share it on 'anti-tags'. Age no bar, gender no bar, religion no bar, caste no bar. Leave you name or send it anonymously. Our email is antiDOTtagsATgmailDOTcom

Link: http://anti-tags.blogspot.com/

Delhi - A Page From My Diary

2008-06-18T15:48:00.004+05:30

In a state of disrupted, chaotic order I am still living out of a suitcase. As I travel from the western part of city to my office in the shiny new metro for a couple of days, I thought of writing this ode for a bustling, throbbing, eclectic city I love.
“

From a height I observe the city, abrupt lines and jagged edges flouting the
symmetry associated with a city seen from the top - rooftops of congested micro
cities, homes and offices, slums and villages - decaying, putrefying structures
and people in lifeless motion, almost cataleptic. And then suddenly, the vision
gets broken by shiny new malls and movie halls in unexpected places. The pattern
repeats for a while as the train jerks to a stop at each station, a mass of
people moving in and out. The uneven rooftops give way to green foliage, a
labyrinth of flyovers, roads, traffic signals and car crawling to their
destination.

And in that closed box, I notice furtive glances
until there is nothing left to look at as eyes move from random images –
advertisements, maps, the LED board displaying station names, people, coming
back to staring vacantly in space.

I hear voices murmuring,
inaudible collective sounds at first and then singling out. There are strains -
of languages Punjabi, Bhojpuri, Hindi and English, old Hindi film songs, stock
prices, exam results, sweet nothings.

Dampness hangs in the air, fragrance of flowery perfumes mixing with the sweat, a potent mixture pervades as empty spaces fill with people until there is nothing left to fill, nothing left to pervade. ”

------

Updated: I love the song 'Dilli Bas' sung by Rabbi Shergill and dedicated to my city Delhi. Check out the lyrics here. I don't know where can I listen to it online :

Have You...

2008-06-13T17:39:00.009+05:30

...ever felt sad and happy at the same time?
Excited and nervous at the same time?
Joyful and anxious at the same time?
Felt over the moon and yet wanted the earth to open up and swallow you?
That you want to stay and you want to go?
And you want to be anchored and want to fly away?
Yet everything feels like it's happening in slow motion and yet very fast?

I am feeling all that and more!

-------

I've quit my job. Yes, the one I really love. I still have two months to go. I want to be here forever and I know it's time to move on. The three years I spent here, as a rookie reporter and slowly evolving into an experienced one, the amazing people I met and the interesting experiences I had - It’s been one hell of a roller coaster ride. I travelled across the country, went to places you probably haven’t heard of, did some good stories, and got a peek into lives of people who opened their hearts and homes for me. I have grown as a person and as a journalist. This looks like my swan song but I hope it’s not.

And now you may be wondering what’s next for me. Well, I am moving not just to another country but another continent. I have decided to take an year off to study and have been offered a scholarship. And I couldn’t resist the offer. So basically, my life is in transition, with all the travelling since the last two months and living out of suitcases which got packed before it was time to unpack. And now I have to pack my bags to go off a longer period of time.

I am scared of leaving this security blanket of my home and my job and explore new avenues. And yet there is this another voice in my head which tells me this is a good thing. I am confident one moment and lost in another. I want time to stand still and I want it to move. I want to savour every moment and I want to taste what’s next. I am eager and I am restrained. I am a contradiction or maybe just torn between the past, the present and the future. I take each moment with a steady calmness, and in the next, there are butterflies in my stomach. I could go on and on about how I feel but I don't think I should. So I'll just say - Wish me luck, everyone!

-------
And in a update on my travel diaries-

An almost 60-day travel is coming to an end. And I have been surprised at myself. And have learnt again – never say never.

Because you never thought that smiles exchanged would turn into glances exchanged and a language barrier wouldn’t deter in conveying what words could say because your eyes will do the talking. And that you will sit diagonally cross the table and use a translator for a conversation and your eyes would meet for a brief minute and everyone else on the table would be laughing at the casual banter and you would know those words were not said in jest. Working will be easier and you will stop missing home and wish you had a few or a lot more days of travel. But like all good things, this will come to an end. And your eyes will meet for the last time and it would be a bittersweet end. You won't forget the memories but will move on.

-------

India Travel Diaries: Random Travel Tales

2008-05-30T12:01:00.003+05:30

After the previous post, I have been meaning to give an update of the latest travel tales but the grueling schedule has kept me from doing so. Travelling from MP-Delhi-Bihar-Delhi-AP-Delhi-Mumbai-Delhi (excluding all the towns and the villages I went to) for 45 days makes you realize how much you can really miss home. And it’s still not over!

-----------

Because when you bump into walls, tables and beds in different hotel rooms, purple bruises pop up. And then you fall down the stairs and you knee gets injured and you hobble around with purple bruise and a swollen knee.

-----------

And then you come home to sleep in your own bed, wake up in the middle of the night and see the door is open and think someone has entered your hotel room and you need to scream and call the reception. Then realization strikes you that you are in your own home.
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And then you ask to eat karela, tinda, lauki, tori and salivate at the thought of eating kichdi. Since you are home for a day or two, you can’t eat it all. So when you go to your next destination and stay in a fancy hotel and your colleagues go out to eat super specialty Far East Asian cuisine, you politely refuse and order kichdi for room service and it tastes like heaven.

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In the middle of it all, in an obscure village in Bihar, the drunk ex-sarpanch and his cronies will threaten you and the current sarpanch will jump to help you and tell you to register a police case. So yeah, you start getting visions of you getting killed in a local village-politics war and the fact no one will come to know about it. And before that happens, you will have to think quickly on your feet, diffuse the situation, work quickly and get out of there alive!

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The condition of the roads will be terrible, as if no roads exist in that particular district of Bihar. The potholes are mini craters and travelling for an hour and a half (one side) every day would mean that 1. Your food gets churned (and digested?) really fast 2. You get a full body massage 3. You intestines jump up to meet the brain, the pancreas gets lodged in the liver, the spleen decides to switch over and go to the other side of the body. So for the first time, you take a day’s rest before moving to the next destination.

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In MP, you will go to a village where all the curious kids will surround you. And to beat the heat, you will stand under a mango tree laden with raw, green mangoes. Of course the kids will jump up and pluck the raw mangoes and eat them nonchalantly. Then they will ask you to eat, you will refuse but their bright smiles will melt you. The sour taste will hit you hard, really hard. And they will grin and laugh at you and you will join them and have a good laugh at yourself.
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While in a village in AP, tribal men with spears will surround you and you will think that since you are pint sized and don’t have much meat, you wont make a nice meal for them. Since you can’t speak their language, you will have no way of communicating that thought. They will peak into your car and when you get down, follow you. That’s when you will spot your translator at distance and wave frantically at him. He will then come and tell you that these are village guards and messengers. It’s their job to know about any new ‘happening’ in the village. Then they will pose for your camera, get their pictures taken and you will shyly join them for a photo, inwardly relieved that you are not their dinner for the day.

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Of course you will also get to touch a real tortoise and fishes and goats and cows and new born calves respectively in all the states. By day 40, the smell of cow dung won’t make you crinkle up your nose. In fact you won’t even notice the smell.

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In the midst of this, bird shit will fall on your notebook. Which will be an ice-breaker for village kids in AP. Through sign language, they will produce water and a cloth to wipe it away. And in broken English-Telgu, they’ll tell you it’s a sign of good luck.

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And in all the villages, the village elders will ask your age and wonder why you are not married as yet. Then they will be scandalized that you travel and work with men. And that you belong to a mixed caste. And they will nod wisely and say, “Yeh sab Dilli may hota hai.” It’s a very foreign concept for them.

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You will meet a girl, the first from her village, to go and study MCA and with dreams of working in the IT industry. You will go to another village where a 20 year old girl is a mother of a one year old child. And in another, she is in a ghoonghat which covers her face and neck and she won’t talk to you at all.

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While in Mumbai traveling in front of a slum, a child will suddenly jump in front of your car, the driver will slam the brakes, while the child will grab a pigeon and put it in his shirt. The driver will turn back to you and say, “He will go home and cook this.” you are not sure if you should believe him.

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I still have a few more days of travel. More travel diaries might pop up if something interesting happens. Meanwhile, there has been a development on a personal-professional front. Pray that things fall in place for me while I keep my fingers crossed.

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Madhya Pradesh Diaries - II

2008-05-05T19:28:00.008+05:30

One day we ask a villager why he wants to buy a colour television, his first, in the 45 years of his life. He replies with all seriousness, “Because my wife told me too.” All the men – different strata, culture, society, country - errupt into a laughter, their private joke of hen pecked husbands and nagging wives.

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Yet another day, a woman separating chaff from wheat calls a child to sit next to her as we film her activities. The man standing next to me says, “ These women. They have no sense. Uski photo keech rahe hai aur who bacchey ko bula rahi hai….” He suddenly stops as he realizes I am standing next to him.

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Another day. We meet a farmer who earns about $3 a day to feed his family of eight. He rues why he toils so hard to grow wheat if the government is filling its buffer stock, when he has to eat two meals a day because he can’t afford three. His eyes heavy with emotion, helplessness, he turns to ask, “Main yeh dharti kyu cheerta hoon? Sirf isliye ki bebas reh saku?”. At first I am moved and then a thought crosses my mind, if his dialogue is a story set for us journalists. The cynic in me peeps out and I feel ashamed.

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A man in starch white kurta payajama stands in the middle of a field, the hot winds - loo hits us but there is a smile on his face. His 82 acre land produces so much of wheat, gram, pluses and soybean that he will earn millions when he sells his stock. The land, which he stands on, is worth billions.

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While in Bhopal one day, staying in my fancy 5 hotel, travelling in the stuffy official car to all the villages, I desire to break free. As I hop into an auto rickshaw outside the hotel, the manager spots me and asks “Madam why did you walk till the gate? We could have called the auto inside.” He tells me it’s a regular thing. I am amazed they do that here. The fancy hotel in the city is not like the ones in Delhi.

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I go to the Old Market in the city. It is like walking in the bylanes of Old Delhi, men with skull caps and women in burkha mill around. I am an anomaly there, an outsider. But I enjoy it. And there is a Jama Masjid and a chor bazaar just like Delhi. I am homesick again.

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As the heat rises from the earth, bare trees spead their branches, like arms raised towards the sky, a plea for the sun to stop beating down so mercilessly, for rain gods to pour down.

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After a tiring day, I recline in the seat of my car, I look outside and find electricity transmission lines running along, the cables playing a game, meeting at the poles - coming together, falling apart, almost teasing each other and playing catch. It reminds me of my childhood - watching the electicity poles, the sugar cane fields, sitting in the backseat, staring at the horizon as both merge into one another, while going to visit my grandmother in dusty heartlands of Uttar Pradesh.

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On the highway, I pass by a school building under construction. Th name of the school - Campion School. If the school authorities meant to write 'champion' then I am really worried what the childen will learn in a school whose name is spelt wongly. If it isn't, then I am worried that the name of the school has no meaning. And then I wonder why I worry so much!

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Madhya Pradesh Diaries

2008-04-22T12:22:00.006+05:30

As I travel through dusty heartland of Rural central India, the landscape bathes in the summer sun and blue sky. The wheat which has become yellow golden, the green sugarcane fighting the sunrays, becoming yellow, the trees stark, stripped of their leaves, brown bark, yellow dust swirling upto the branches. And then suddenly, a green palm tree, which has survived the harsh environs.

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I meet some farmers, bodies darkened, hands callused, their sweat and grime in my hand- the golden wheat, which is on my table every night because of them. I can see the elements have worn them out, weathered faces, hard luck, dependence on the climate, they still welcome me warmly.

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At 41 degrees temperature, as they harvest the grain, suddenly one farmers pipes up, telling his ghoonghat clad wife, "Look how smart this city girl is, she even talks to men. You should learn something from her." And they break in peals of laughter.

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In another village, we ask if the women go shopping. No, the reply. Not even saris? No. House hold items? No. Anything? They shake their heads and say, "But they are not the decision makers, madam. They stay at home look after everything here."

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Another evening, there is a wedding in the village. Suddenly, our arrival means, the bride and the groom are relegated to the sidelines. We are the new celebrities and we have to make polite conversation with the thousands of guests present there. The women are in another corner, in their bright colourful saris. I walk upto them and take a picture from a digital camera. They shyly come forward to see it. And then there is a stampede to get their pictures clicked - from the old grandmother to the 6 year old girl!

Later, the village sarpanch and elders sit around me at 1.00, I chew on my batley (a local delicacy) and drink the purest aam panna, I have ever had. And in that night, as I am thousands of kilometers away from home, under a star studded sky, discussing politics, wheat prices, inflation and culture with them, they are in awe of me. "Aap itni door yahan baithi ho, koi darr nahi lag raha, ghar sey itni door?" I shake my head, "Its my job."

And then one of the farmers sings this song, inspired by his land-

Chali rey chali,
Kisan ki lali,
Bhariya rang ki chunariya,
Oodh kar chali,
Kisan ki lali,
Khet khaliyaon ko chali...

As I leave, the moon spreads its light, the cool breeze envelopes me, the darkness hides the starkness of the farmland. I trudge back to the hotel in the city at 5.00 A.M

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Halfway through my trip, I am suddenly homesick. A person who is ever ready for the new adventures and quests, I am suddenly missing my home, my room, my bed. It's strange. Or maybe its because I am working with the ogre.

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For the Nth time I am really irritated. yet another person had taken me to be a tourist guide. Yes, I work with foreigners. No, I am not a guide. I am a journalist. I wish someone would ban that RIN/Surf ad with the girl-tourist guide!

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One summer evening, my driver Khan Sa'ab, a frail old man touching seventy, turns to me and speaks to me in perfect English, "You are a great lady." Why, I ask. I have never seen a woman go so deep in the country side. And that too, to tell the story of our farmers. Who really cares about them? I tell him, "I hope, I can change that a little bit."

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This diary (blog post) will be updated in the coming weeks as I travel more. Stay tuned and keep checking back here!

Signs of Times Gone By...

2008-04-12T17:31:00.016+05:30

I am an eager beaver when it comes to clicking pictures especially those with atrocious spellings and language. I thought I should share some master pieces with you all :D

Exhibit no. 1

So are you ready to do some 'traking'?

Exhibit no. 2

Go ahead.. buy a 'Freeze' and freeze your brain it. And don't forget to buy the 'Entena' coz how else will you watch TV?

Exhibit no. 3

Kyun bhai.. garam freeze...err...fridge ki bhi chocolates hoti hain kya?

Exhibit no. 4

Saavdhan from what???

Exhibit no. 5
Presenting pièce de résistance

Go ahead... Buy that helicopter you always dreamt of!

Where Are We Heading

2008-04-09T17:38:00.006+05:30

Where are we going wrong as a society when 8 year olds plan to stab their teacher without realizing the effects or the enormity of their plan?

In another case, 16 year olds, in a pre meditated plan, attack a fellow school student so that they can upload a video of it on a popular video sharing site. (Video Here)

Instead of bully-like behaviour, these are cases of mob mentality. Earlier, we saw this behaviour during wars, riots, unrest or a similar situation but not where children or youngsters were involved.

Now in a changing world, we are seeing cases, unusual scenarios where slightest of provocation are triggering off events. These are alarming cases of herd mentality, cases of assumed power over the victim and with no signs of remorse.

It’s a very scary place to be right now. As we become developed, are these indicators of eroding human values? Or are these societal issues of the developed world? Or there are deeper reflections of images influenced by the media? Whatever the answer may be, as a society, we need to check such behavioral indicators.

Because, I think, it won’t take long for others to replicate it. Like school shootings in US, incidents like Gurgaon school shoot out have started to haunt India. Is this the future staring at us?

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Cross posted at C-Splash (a citizen journalism initiative)

And So It Happened: The Epilogue

2008-04-06T12:30:00.006+05:30

For chapter three, read here

Epilogue

She never went back to Delhi. Instead she made a choice, first of many, and made the city of dreams her home. With his support, she went back to study. Later, she wrote a book called ‘Lady Of The Night’- a chronicle of her past life. It helped her find a closure. An added bonus was that the book went on to become a bestseller. The media followed her, the activists made her their poster girl. She was suddenly the depraved-girl-turned-righteous.

Now, she works and vigourously fights for the rights of women.Sometimes when the fast pace of city life gets to her, she comes back to the village and can be seen sitting under the tall trees watching the sunset or taking a walk on the beach with him.

He went to complete the business deal he had left in the middle. It made him the second richest youngest man. He had no desire to be the first because he finally realized that his race was against him, not someone else. As she had said once, he chose to make a decision. It was led by his heart. And that’s when he decided to buy a house in the quaint little village of Kelve. He can be often seen fishing by the sea. But mostly, he takes a canvas and paints as the curious village children come up to him and chat with him.

When it becomes too quiet, he goes to the city. There he can be seen catching up with her in one of the restaurants and cafes which dot the city. Though he still avoids going to Nariman Point.

And so it happened, when two tortured and agonized souls met each other, they found a purpose, a meaning and maybe they found themselves.

If you ever happen to visit Kelve, you might see them. You could probably go upto them and say Hello. Maybe they'll tell you what's happening in their life right now. I am sure it would be interesting.

THE END

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And So It Happened: Chapter 3

2008-04-04T11:29:00.005+05:30

For chapter two, read here.

Chapter 3

“You need a room, sir?”

“Yes. One.” he said.

After checking into their room, she stepped out. Never had she been allowed to venture out like this. The fresh air, salty sea breeze, birds chirping, tall eucalyptus trees. They went and sat by the sea. She had never seen a beach before. It was like a dream.

Gingerly she put her feet in the water, feeling the sand on the soles of her feet. She closed her eyes and waved her arms pretending to be like the seagulls which were flying above her. She giggled with joy as he sat watching her.

Later as she came back and sat next to him, he said, “You know earlier… we were talking… I hope you didn’t mind me asking…about it…”

She shook her head.

He lit up another cigarette

“But I don’t understand. Why can’t you choose. You know...to walk away?”

“Why can’t you?” she countered his question.

“Well… that’s the only thing I know. How to make money. What will I do?” he said almost wistfully.

“Yeah… that’s the only thing I know,” she repeated but spoke for herself too. Words which had involuntarily forced out of somewhere deep inside.

As the evening rays of the sun melted into the sea, the hours dissolved into one another, the horizon turned shades of orange and cobalt, they had let down the guard a little bit.

Soon it was time for dinner.

The next day they explored the area a little bit. The wind played with her hair as he caught a whiff of her perfume. Touching her arm, he indicated he wanted to sit down on the rocks.

“Doesn’t it look beautiful!” She pointed out to the boats dotting the sea. “Maybe it’s the fishermen.”

“Hmmm,” he grunted.

Maybe he doesn’t want to talk. She sat quietly.

“Tell me if you were not making money what would you? In your heart, what do you dream of doing?” she asked, childlike, trying to ignore his indifference.
“I would be a painter,” he said dreamily looking at the wide expanse of the sea.

“I wish I had the power to change,” he added as an afterthought.

“Maybe you do”

“Hmmm”

“Maybe you can try…”

He shrugged his shoulders.

A gentle breeze enveloped them.

“What would you do?” he asked her.

“Oh…a million things,” she said slowly, sighing, resigning to her fate.

He stole a glance at her. And put his arms around her shoulders pulling her close to him. She didn’t resist.

“Maybe you can try…,” he said.

“Meri line mujhi ko wapas..”

They looked at each other and broke into a smile at their private joke.

The fact that they were strangers carrying no burden of a personal relationship with each other made it easier to talk. At that point of time they didn’t figure it out.

The sound of waves, laughter of children playing football in a distance, they became acutely aware of the noise and then all sounds blocked out and they were alone in this world, in a prison of their thoughts and actions

Maybe I should have run away when I had my chance. Six years back. When my greed started enveloping me. When my body was been bartered.

Both got lost in their thoughts again. Neither realizing that sometimes silence speaks more than words. The silence is the sound of soul - healing - with the thoughts which reverberate inside, when one reflects on the actions, choices.

Another day has passed. Its time for both of them to go back to their old life.

That night wrapped in a blanket of darkness, she turns to him and says, “Thank you”

“For what?” he asks her, puzzled.

“Nothing. Everything” she answers cryptically.

“No. I should thank you instead,” he says firmly, softly.

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To be continued...

And So It Happened: Chapter 2

2008-04-02T20:45:00.006+05:30

For chapter one read here

Chapter 2

The city road took them to NH 8. Another round of silence ensued. Each lost in thoughts. Both wanting to get away from it all. Soon the concrete jungle gave way to the Sahyadri mountain range.

She remembers hypnotically staring, noticing a pattern on the road, of sunrays passing through the leaves, bringing a translucent quality to them, the fog in a distance dissipating and reappearing. Everything becoming clear and then blurred.

He remembers ten years back, a group of college friends, in a car. The song playing I want to break free. Incessant chatter, all bantering and agreeing they wanted to break free, none knowing that they were already free.

He remembers the taste of first killing at the stock market. The compulsion. The addiction. The phenomenal rise. The Midas touch. Turning everything he touched into gold. And now an emptiness. A sense of worthlessness. How did I get here?

“Did you say something?,” she asked.

He shook his head, “No”.

“Why did you start this… this…line of work?,” he unexpectedly asked her.

Taken aback, as no one had bothered to ask before, she shrugged her shoulders. Then she mumbled something under her breath. “Millions of women are forced into it. I am just another one.”

A truck passed by, and her voice got lost.

He just heard the words, “Millions…forced….another one”

“So you didn’t have a choice?”

“Choice, huh? That’s a joke. Choice is when you can decide whether you want to do something or whether you have to do something,” bitterness crept in her voice.

“It’s a decision you make with your head or your heart. Its something you don’t compromise on,” she stopped abruptly. An outburst could cause her problems. If he gave a bad feedback, it could jeopardize getting good clients in the future.

He had touched a raw nerve. At ten years of age, orphaned, she went to live with her Uncle. He sold her. So you see - this girl of twenty one years of age - didn't know anything about choices.

Roads became narrower. Signboards whizzing past her. Dahisar-Thane-Palghar-Saphale-Edwan-Kelve.

After about four hours, the scenery changed as she noticed huts, chickens, cows, women carrying straw baskets on their heads, children playing and men rushing off to catch fish in the little rivers and inlets. I wish I could trade my life with them.

He turned into a dirt lane. They drove for another fifteen minutes and reached a quaint village, untouched by modern life. At the end of the village lay a small resort and by it - the Arabian Sea. Some enterprising fellow had built it by the water’s edge.

To be continued...

And So It Happened: Chapter 1

2008-04-01T16:19:00.010+05:30

Chapter 1

It was a sultry summer morning as he stood in the balcony, with his back to the Mumbai skyline. His open shirt caressed by the breeze, as he obsessively smoked. Through the glass doors separating the room with the terrace, his eyes took in her gentle sinuous curves, her delicate nose, her luscious lips.

Why was she in his bed, in his hotel suite. The simple answer was he was rich and he could buy anything, even a companion. The answer which wasn’t obvious but hung there like the heavy air of smoke was loneliness - gnawing him. That’s what he felt but he didn’t know it. And he didn’t like coming back to an empty room. That’s why she was there.

His eyes had an inscrutable expression, the hard lines on his face masked his loneliness. With a sigh, unconsciously he snuffed out the cigarette and walked inside. Waking her up by nuzzling her bare neck and her shoulders, he waited as she stirred and opened her eyes, smiling at him.

“Good morning, princess,” he drawled.

“Good morning,” she replied, her sleep filled eyes looking at him. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her but with a tinge of sadness remembered that wasn’t part of the deal.

Later, they sat having their breakfast in silence. She was trained not to speak until spoken to but the stillness made her restless.

“So you have a meeting this morning?” she asked.

“Hmmm… I cancelled it.”

She faintly nodded her and didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Do you sometimes feel that nothing makes sense? That you have everything and still nothing? That you are in a prison?”

She didn’t answer. She understood they were rhetorical questions and that he wanted to continue talking. She had met his kind before too. Only they were much older than him. He looked like he was in his late twenties.

“There is void, a gaping hole and I don’t know what to fill it with.”

That’s your soul dying. She wanted to say. But she bit her lip. What would he know about it anyway? Her’s had died inch-by-inch, man-by-man. She knew what an empty soul meant. She wanted to scorn him, but his sad eyes and her paycheck, which she was to receive after three days, strained her to keep those thoughts in check.

“For once, I don’t want the money, the riches, the fame. I want to be the man on the street – who has his daily struggles.”

He was running his hands through his hair, sitting cross legged on the bed.

“Let’s get out of here,” suddenly he said.

”But where?” she looked at him uncertainly.

“I don’t know. Wherever the road takes us.”

The morning rays of sun were becoming stronger, the sky in colours of marigold and cerulean turning into sunflower yellow and lighter hues of blue. Somewhere in the background she could hear honking cars and temple bells.

To be continued...

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This is the first part of a fiction story with a four part series. Stay tuned!

In The World of Enid Blyton

2008-03-25T17:56:00.005+05:30

At age four, I remember a light green hard bound book with dog eared pages and a colourful pciture on the cover, thrust in my hands. I remember Noddy, whose blue cap and red shorts remain etched in my mind even now after twenty years. Noddy and his friends- who fascinated me. I was in another world as words and pictures weaved magic.

I was then introduced to the Magic Faraway Tree – Jo, Bessie, Fanny and their magical friends Moon face, Silky and Saucepan man. A world where children had amazing adventures in the woods where an old enchanted tree stood and spoke an English which was so different from mine. Who would say words like smashing, golly and gosh.

I read about boarding school travails in the Malory Towers series and saw Darryl Rivers grow into a young woman. I drew parallels of my classmates with Gwendoline, Alicia and the rest of the gang. I heard about fascinating sports like lacrosse and mid night feasts of cakes. Even now, Darryl reminds me of my elder sister – short tempered, intelligent and caring. I always identified with her younger sister Felicity.

Then came the Five Find Outers - Fatty, Larry, Daisy, Pip and Bets and Famous Five George, Dick, Julian, Anne and Timmy, followed by Secret Seven. Their mysteries in small English villages, where they travelled on cycles, ate hot scones and jacket potato and drank tea with cream and ginger ale. They found thieves in caravans, lived in cottages, went to fairs, encountered gypsies, and went for camping trips and found adventures in caves, highlands and moors. A world so removed from mine.

Enid Blyton’s books have been such an important part of my early years, memories of hot summer days, my nose buried in reading, visualizing their adventures, living them through those words. I absolutely devoured all the Blyton books I could lay hands on – school library and the local library near home unaware that in Britain these books were in a midst of debate – depicting middle class England and being politically incorrect.

And now Disney has recycled the ‘Famous Five’ and put the characters in a new setting with multi ethnic identities. The characters are now not in idyllic England instead they are in sunny California, they eat pizza, guzzle coke and use laptops and mobile phones. The Enid Blyton loyalists and ardent fans like me will scream blue murder. My favourite books and characters are been given a face lift I don’t want. I wish instead of repackaging the classic and giving a generation leap (à la saas-bahu serials!) they could have started a new series.

I came across some interesting view points in British and Scottish media. The opinion column of Scotsman says-
“In an act of sheer literary vandalism, Disney – who else? – has stripped the very heart out of Enid Blyton's adventures and characters and in their place offered up a pale imitation of Scooby-Doo.”

While Times opinion column says-
“What are we doing to these well-loved characters?... Our longest waiting lists were for the Famous Five books.” Funnily enough, it goes on to add an ‘immigrant’ angle. While the regular news story is more ‘politically correct’.

While everyone has been harping about adding an Anglo-Indian character in the new series no one has analyzed why such a character has been introduced. I believe it shows the cultural influence of India and growth of its soft powers. I also think Chorion and Disney are trying to appeal to a wider audience – a large chunk of which may be South Asian or Indian.

Here’s hoping Jyoti and her gang don’t stray too far from the original! I wouldn’t want Enid Blyton turning in her grave.

Reflections

2008-03-24T11:33:00.004+05:30

As I was travelling through rural interiors of India in the past few weeks for work, long hours of travel kept me busy with musings and thoughts. Suddenly these words came in my head and kept rolling about.

J'étais enchainée,
Et maintenant je suis libre...

Translation
I was enchained,
And now I am free...

I had written these words some time ago – unfinished thoughts in an unfinished, cryptic poem. Inspired by the vast expanse of green fields of paddy, golden yellow fields of wheat and sunflower, the blue sky turning shades of orange, pink and cobalt I really wondered if I was enchained and whether I am free now.

J'étais enchainée,
Et maintenant je suis libre...
I thought so
As I lay in my bed on a hot summer night

But what are chains
Are they not meant to be broken
If they are
Would I be free

Oh! But what if it’s not a chain
It never crossed my mind
What I thought were shackles
Were maybe meant to liberate me

What if they weren’t
How am I to know
What lies on the other side
Can I find without going too far

What irony awaits me
Is it that what binds me
Tries to set me free
Or what sets me free, brings me back

Another summer is upon me,
And I wonder if
J'étais enchainée,
Et maintenant je suis libre...

Tagged for Eights'

2008-03-12T16:01:00.016+05:30

I was just blog hopping and noticed that Vrij tagged me. So here goes my list of eight :)

Eight things I am passionate about

Reading
Travelling
Photography
Writing
Music
Social Issues
Chocolate
Good Food

Eight things I want to do before I die

Travel around the country and the world... Go back to Spain for a longer period of time
Read as many books as I can
Continue learning French and then learn Spanish
Try as many cuisines as I can... Given the fact I am a vegetarian and my options get halved
Work to uplift the social status of women
Learn pottery
Learn martial arts
Buy Vincent van Gogh's art and hang it in my living room

Eight things I say often

Bloodly Mofo
Oh F&*%
Aisa Kya?
Aur Bata...
S&*(% Man!!
Hey Bhagwan
Abey Saaley...
Really??

Eight books I’ve read recently

A Thousand Splendid Suns (Khaled Hosseni)
The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseni)
Greatest Works of Anton Chekhov (Anton Chekhov)
The Witch of Portobello (Paulo Coelho)
Shantaram (Gregory David Roberts)
Black Friday (S Hussain Zaidi)
Japan (Yamaguchi Hiroichi)
Radiant Himalayas (R C Naithani)

Eight songs I could listen to, over and over

Inside out (Bryan Adams)
I am ready (Bryan Adams)
I don't wanna miss a thing (Aerosmith)
Kuch iss tarah (Atif Aslam)
I am like a bird (Nelly Furtado)
Bulla ki jaana (Rabbi Shergill)
Chiquitita (ABBA)
I believe I can fly (R Kelley)

Eight things that attracts me to my close friends

Loyalty
A fair attitude
Having no airs or graces
Accepting each other as we are
Zest for life
Ability to be grounded when required
Intelligent Conversation
Common love of music/books/theatre/travel/films/activism

People I think should do this tag

Sumit
Moai
TiM
Pramod
Prasad
Curious
Rags
Kamesh (Maybe the tag with get you back to active blogging :P)

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Anti Tags has been updated. Do drop in there and leave your comments.

Indian Students Unsafe in US?

2008-03-05T11:43:00.002+05:30

According to a survey, 53% of all students in US universities are of Asian origin. Out of which about 80,000 are Indian students and there has been a gradual increase in the figures since the last decade.

Recent news reports seem to indicate that an increasing number of Indian students are becoming targets of violent crimes in a country which was touted to be a safe haven. Why is this happening?

Dr Akkaldelvi Srinivas is the latest to join the list. In fact, he is the fourth Indian student to meet a violent end in the US in the past three months. Isn’t that alarming?

Is it a systematic hate wave? Are people feeling threatened of Indian taking their jobs? Is it the recession? Why are South East Asians not targeted?

Sitting in the other side of the world I can’t analyze or understand this. My blog seems to get a lot of hits from the US. Can anyone shed some light on what they feel? Why are Indian students becoming targets of crimes?

A Bollywood Musical And Bad Auto Rickshaw Karma

2008-02-28T12:34:00.007+05:30

Well today morning I sat like a princess, surrounded by two tigers on my either sides and Shahrukh Khan staring at me and smiling away. I looked around and found Sania Mirza, Vidya Balan and Rani Mukherjee too. Two photos of Godess Durga flapped around as the wind caught them. And in a gold framed mirror, I saw my reflection. The side windows, framed with painted yellow and red flowers, the black vinyl upholstering with gold speckles completed the look. After a few minutes a Bollywood song started to play. And I felt like I was starring in my very own Bollywood musical. The only element missing were my latkas and jhatkas - the dance moves :)

This brings me to a conclusion that travelling in the kitschy-est ever auto rickshaw will let your fertile imagination go wild and it will all seem so surreal, even for a veteran auto rickshaw commuter like me that a grin would be plastered on my face through out the ride!

Hopefully this would also be a sign for uplifting of my bad-auto-rickshaw-karma (BARK) which has been following me continuously.

A few days ago an auto (auto rickshaw is too long to type and henceforth will be called auto) decided to strand me at the Safdarjung Flyover, the driver saying he had run out of gas. As soon as I got down and paid the fare, he *&%$#@#* sped away. Just because he wanted to avoid the traffic jam ahead! About fifteen autos I flagged down after that refused to go that way. And since that incident, travelling in buses is the last option.

Yesterday morning Mr. Murphy decided to pay me a visit as I was sitting in an auto, getting late to work. Then suddenly, auto’s second gear broke and since I had already reached Lutyens’ Delhi (where chances of finding an empty auto are very slim), I had no option but to get to office in that auto while the driver drove in the first gear, testing both my patience and safety standards .

The story does not end here. While coming back in the evening, I had to first haggle with the auto wallah for the fare and half way through, his auto sputtered and died. I had to walk almost a kilometer to find another one.

This morning, it looks like my bollywood auto broke the jinx. Here’s optimistically wondering this is the end of BARK.

More auto tales here.

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Meanwhile, do check out a social movement called Anti-Tags and leave your feedback there.

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Update (Feb 28): This racism incident in South Africa is my WTF moment of the day. Check out the video here.

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Update 2 (Mar 1): Blank Noise has a meeting today in New Delhi. Check out the details here. Be there!

A Social Changed Called Anti-Tags

2008-02-26T20:04:00.006+05:30

It was the year 2004. I had just enrolled in a post graduate programme in Journalism. At first when I came to know that a classmate of mine was from Kashmir, I was curious.

Because I, having lived in a big metropolis like New Delhi, had never 'encountered' someone from the troubled state of Jammu and Kashmir till then. The only thing I knew was what I read in the newspapers or saw on news channels – that Kashmiri Muslims hated India, wanted to be part of the 'enemy' state and were behind most terror attacks.

So basically I was looking for a classmate who would be a devil incarnate. Instead I found a young man who had the same dreams as me, the same ambitions and a will to live a 'normal' life.

I was generally told that the old stereotype holds true - all Muslims hate Hindus and want to 'take over' my beloved country, are radical, multiply rapidly and forcibly convert everyone to Islam. Instead I found a person, who was apprehensive of me because I was the larger majority who thought like this! Me? I would never harm an insect let alone think of harming someone.

He seemed quite defensive in the beginning and I took an instant dislike to him. Our interactions were limited only to professional discussions. With time, I felt he started becoming less defensive and I failed to spot horns on his head.

The uneasiness gave way to exchange of ideas and passionate discussions and debates as the walls and the barriers started to melt away. I realized that this person was neither a fanatic nor believed in multiplying and taking over the country. He just wanted to be a treated as a citizen and a part of the country.

In this case, a healthy interaction ensued and our mindsets started to change. We were able to identify truth from make believe stories and were able to overcome the fear of the unknown. We necessarily do not agree on everything and our political and socio political ideas sometimes differ, after all we are distinct individuals, we have changed. The journey has been eventful and interesting.

And I came to the conclusion that we build up prejudices largely because of two reasons. The first is the fear of the unknown. The second is the subtle and overt propaganda spread by people around us, the media and politics.

There are many people who we interact with, who don't just keep the prejudices in their hearts but systematically spread them too. Only if they were given the power to see what lies on the other side, were given unbiased information, they would be able to decide what they want to believe in and discard propaganda.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt there was a need to bridge the gap between the 'real' and the 'assumed'. Thus, a germ of an idea started in my head. This idea is now being put into paper (actually virtual paper).

Words like secularism, polarization, communalism, terrorism are bandied about. But what do they really mean? How does it affect the people when they are given a certain tag? Why should they be given a tag? Why should we have notions without really seeing for ourselves what the truth is?

The movement 'anti-tags' stems from that idea. We are anti-communalism, anti-extremism and anti-polarization and pro-information. Some might also call us secular, liberal or even pseudo-secular-liberal. As I said, tags don't matter.

Check out a social movement called Anti-Tags here.

Tell us your story. Did you face communal backlash? Did an incident change you? What do you think of propaganda in media and politics? How is it ruining our social fabric? Share it on Anti-Tags.

Age no bar, gender no bar, religion no bar, caste no bar. Leave you name or send it anonymously. Our email is anti.tagsATgmailDOTcom

Cross posted on Anti-Tags

One Night Stand

2008-02-20T12:29:00.012+05:30

Actually I don’t know why call it one night stand coz you know you don’t just stand. That’s how it was the other night. And you people who had naughty thoughts while reading the line above, let me bring you to an anti-climax and tell the story from the beginning.

That evening as I entered the room, switched on the light, I saw the window wide open and some feathers on my bed. I looked up to see a pigeon couple perched on my fan and flapping their wings. As soon as they saw me, they decided that behaving like still life statues would make me think that they were not real. You know, we humans are not that stupid but are sometimes stupid enough to leave the window open.

I tired to shoo them out of the room but they started to dangerously fly around, hitting the blade of the fan, then sitting on one pelmet and then another. I envisioned bird feathers, blood and mangled bodies of bird on my new bed sheet and decided this strategy would not work.

After a while they decided (as you can see- all parties were thinking and strategizing) the pelmet was the safest spot in the room and stayed put there, not seeing the window across the room from which they could go outside. I hoped they would develop some sense and fly. But no!

Now this is the window where the cat loves to jump in and stay inside when it’s cold. Once it jumped straight onto my bed, right on top my blanket and I thought someone broke in and was trying to strangle me. I screamed with all my might and scared off the poor cat. Now every time it jumps in, it meows to let me know its come! Ok I am digressing and this is a story for another time.

So I got worried that the cat might see the open window and it would come in and find a lovely dinner waiting for it. So I closed the window and on grounds of sympathy decided to let the pigeons stay in. So yeah, basically I spent the night with pigeons in the rooms who first stood, then sat down and then slept. At some point in the night, it started unnerving me that I was sleeping in a room where some pigeons were right on top of my head and I, after watching too many horror films where crows start attacking humans, thought they would go crazy and start pecking at me while I sleep. I have irrational fears sometimes.

I spend the rest of the night on the couch.

Epilogue

The pigeon couple was evicted the next morning, amidst much drama, and using weapons like a long handled mop and pointing out the exit. It seems they really like my room because today morning they were sitting by the window sill, hoping the window would be open. I have learnt my lessons well and that window has been permanently closed.

My human friends have told me that the warm tones of my room (orange, yellow and red) make it look very inviting but I didn’t think the animal kingdom also thinks the same because this brings the count of animal species to pay me a visit to four and still counting.

A lizard which has taken permanent residency, (this reminds me - Sumit, how is your lizzy doing? Mine has decided to hibernate for the winters), seasonal insects, cat and a pigeon.

The snakes which live in the garden downstairs haven’t come as yet and so have the dogs who haven’t quite mastered the art of jumping like cats. Other feathered friends like owls, crows, sparrows, mynas, parrots and peacocks are also not invited inside because I think they look better on the trees outside rather than the pelmet inside.

For more pigeons stories in my home, read here.

Flowering Hope

2008-02-18T13:14:00.006+05:30

Though it was a cold winter morning, the sun had chosen to shine that day. The fog started to clear and by afternoon, the small park had its first visitor almost after a month of cold, grey and gloomy winter.

The Neem tree spread its branches, and through the branches, the rays of the sun passed making the leaves looking translucent green. Underneath a man slept wearing a tattered blue sweater and grey trousers. He had a shock of white hair, a wrinkled face, and long gnarled fingers. His hand was placed over his eyes, maybe to block the light, as he napped.

At a distance a young father, held the hand of his son while his wife, a few steps behind, held a small baby girl in her arms.

As the two and a half year old boy passed by the flowerbeds, a riot of colours, waved for his attention. He left his father’s hand and ran to inspect them all.

And came back, out of breath saying, “Papa! Red, Yellow, Purple, Orange, so many!” The indulgent father smiled.

The roses, in different shades of pink, peach and red, the marigolds, a beautiful sunset orange, the purple chrysanthemums, the sunny yellow daises, all lovingly nurtured and cared for, by the gardener.

The little girl decided it was her turn to inspect the green grass and decided to crawl on it, all the while gurgling.

The boy, fascinated by the colours and the play of light on the petals, kept repeating the names, furrowing his brows asked, “Why don’t we have them at home?”

The father, seeing the interest of the boy, decided to ask the maali, the gardener about the flowers which could be planted in Spring.

Of course, he didn’t know how the man looked like. No one had ever bothered to find out whose green fingers had lovingly created the beauty they came to see, admired and left.

The young father called out in an uncertain voice to the man sleeping under the tree, “Maali? Aap maali hain? Are you the gardener?”

The man woke up with a start, “Haanji. Yes.”

“Bade aachey phool hai. The flowers are very beautiful”.

“Itney saare colours hain, ” piped a voice. It was the small boy, clutching the father’s leg, peeking from behind and looking at the man.

“I was thinking of planting some flowers for the Spring season... Which ones do you recommend?”

The gardener had an incomprehensible expression on his face while he was thinking. Someone is asking my opinion and appreciating my flowers too.

47 years of working here, he had grown old, giving his life to working in this park. Yet this was the first time someone had made a genuine effort to talk to him.

“Sirji, you can plant tulips, hyacinths, daffodils, irises…,” his voice trailing off.

The father nodded and thanked him.

After a while, as they were about to leave, the gardener came running and plucked out the most beautiful flower and handed it to the boy.

The boy shyly said, “Thank you, Uncle.” And waved him goodbye.

Of course they didn’t hear him say thank you under his breath or the lone tear in his eye, now streaming down his face.

* Fiction story inspired by observing a real life incident

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On a completely different note, I found this fascinating Genographic Project. Someone please gift me a kit so I can find where my ancestors are from.

Chekhov and Hosseini

2008-01-22T18:01:00.000+05:30

Once upon a time there was a book I bought at a book fair two years ago which sat on my book shelf waiting to be picked up. Sometime ago, on a Saturday morning I picked it up and started to read it when I got bored of doing my French verbs.

For a reader like me who likes to visualize everything, the tone of the stories was a little difficult to adjust to. There are no flowing descriptions, just enough to get you started, visualizing the people, the places, the sounds, the smells and then the astute observations come with melancholic undertones as grayness wraps the words.

Having been swept in the world of Anton Chekhov I have slowly come to admire his style of writing. There is an amazing detached quality, of watching everything from a distance as the characters struggle with their mundane, sad lives and putting it into words. It has to be read to be experienced.

And now I am so addicted to this big fat book which is a compilation of Chekhov’s greatest works, both short stories and plays, that every evening I come home from work, read a bit and then do anything else.

After my Khaled Hosseini hangover this is quite a change.

Hosseini’s stories weave a visual magic. You can feel the wind blowing, see the blue skies, taste the Afghan food, the characters leap out and you feel their pain, their agony, their happiness.

And he has the distinction of being the only writer who made me cry. I remember bleary eyed, awake at 3.00 A.M reading about Amir and Hassan in the Kite Runner, tears streaming down my face, not caring I have to go to office the next day.

And for days I wondered if someone could be like Hassan and if such a man existed, what would he be like? Just like I imagine him to be? I am already dying to see the movie version of the book and keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn’t disappoint me like most books-turned-into-movies have.

They are two very different authors, with very different styles of writing, generating very different reader reactions but both have one thing common - they have produced literary enchanting works.

So, my fellow bloggers, what have you been reading?

Har Tasveer Kuch Kehti Hai…

2008-01-16T18:01:00.001+05:30

A dictionary defines Photo (fo.to) as a representation of a person or scene in the form of a print or transparent slide; recorded by a camera on light-sensitive material. What it doesn’t define are the memories attached it to, the moment captured in time, intangible emotion in a tangible form.

Sepia toned pictures
Childhood captured in rare frames
Black and white pictures of a marriage
Grainy colour pictures of their children

The first fancy dress competition
The front tooth missing
The awkward teenage years
A sulking face

Five friends
One tryst with making Maggi
The convocation
The first sari

The first big party
Cheerful banter
A coffee shop
A shy smile

A lazy afternoon of reading
Carefree laughter
A lovely holiday
Wind in her hair

A chubby baby
A toothless grin
The warmth of family
Captured for eternity

Post inspired by casually traversing through my e-mail inbox and phone memory. And they say technology makes us distant. Hmmmph!

A Piece of Meat?

2008-01-03T17:40:00.000+05:30

I was out with a female friend at 11.30 P.M on this New Year’s Eve. As we proceeded to walk towards after car after a leisurely dinner, there was a huge crowd milling about. 90% of the people were aimlessly loafing around consisted of groups of men. We hurriedly walked towards our car and that’s when we heard a slap. We turned around to witness a girl screaming at a boy for misbehaving with her, taking advantage of the crowd.

He started to deny but she kept shouting at him. We didn’t stop to see because we realized, we were two girls alone and it would be better if we headed to our car.

I remember someone whipping out a cell phone and taking pictures of us while we sat in the car and backed out of the parking lot. With our backs turned to the person, and his pictures a complete waste, we quickly made out way out of the lot. And that’s when we saw so many men dancing on the streets, drinking, parking their cars anywhere on the road.

Everyone stared in our car. It looked like we were two animals in a zoo to be looked and photographed. In spite of the fact we were ‘fully covered’ and conservatively dressed in overcoats and jackets.

We reached home in about 15 minutes and ringed in the New Year in the safety of our apartment promising we would never go on New Year’s Eve and thanking God that nothing untoward had happened to us.

Next morning’s newspaper headlines has made our resolve stronger. As I read the paper there was a feeling of disgust, then anger and the aftermath of it all left a bitter taste in my mouth.

It was repulsive and there was a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I fail to understand how can men turn into animals? Or worse than animals. I don’t think even 80 animals will pounce on a female like that.

The sick b******s should be stoned or hanged or castrated. An incident like this in a civilized, democratic state is very shameful.

The men need to be taught since a young age to respect women. Somebody needs to tell them we are not a piece of meat to be hungrily pounced upon.

As for all those people who say that women should not go out at night, dress ‘provocatively’, they need to take a hike because it’s not the women who are at fault, its men who need to control their urges.

I remember missing my school bus, taking public transport for the first time alone. The bus stop near my school where the near empty bus started from, the conductor asking me to sit next to him, stoking my hair and undressing me with his eyes, me terrified, unable to comprehend what to do, suddenly losing my nerve, then regaining it and going to sit in the first empty seat.

Another time, in college, thinking I am much wiser by now, standing, I feel a hand near my crotch and I look up to see a young man in his twenties staring down at me rapaciously. I extricate his hand but say nothing. Just go and stand elsewhere. I have lost my tongue as a feeling of being dirty sweeps over me.

And this another time, I am trapped on the foot board of a bus, an African man decides to massage his penis against my back. Since that day I carry a rucksack with me.

I remember walking down a street near CP wearing a salwar kameez and jeered at by men whistling and singing.

By this time I have learned a bit of karate and I know my basic blocks and punches.

I remember shopping in a south Delhi market, both hands full of bags. A young boy grabbing my waist thinking I won’t react. I remember kicking him with my foot, then dropping my shopping bag to hit him and he telling me ‘sorry sister’.

Another market place, an older man grabbing my breast, me raising my hand to slap him, my mother realizing what has happened, running towards me and screaming at him at the same time, he saying ‘ sorry beta, galti say ho gaya’.

The last time I stepped in a bus I remember a beautiful Delhi, lush green with monsoon rain across my cheeks. Then I remember a man sitting behind me, groping my back. A feeling of disgust, of violation enveloping me. The anger of all these years spilling over, I grab him by his hair and slap him as hard as I can. I haven’t stepped in a bus since that day. I probably would only if my life depended on it. I wrote about it here.

I remember each incident in horrific detail and sadly I know almost every ‘city girl’ has gone through this. Robbed of innocence at a young age, probably scarred for life for no fault of theirs. I don’t think I was asking for it. Neither were those women in Mumbai.

As for the police commissioner who was so insensitive to say this was a small incident, may he be born as a women in his next life.

Read here for another blog reaction of the incident.

On an Odyssey...

2007-12-26T18:43:00.000+05:30

This NYT article has been much talked about and quoted by a lot of people. And the new buzz word is ‘odyssey years’.

The first time I heard the word, I visualized a twenty somebody sitting in a space craft and orbiting the earth wondering where his next stop will be. Okay, I know I am weird. Truth be told I can see myself sitting in that space craft! And I don’t know what my next stop will be.

By definition an Odyssey person is one who switched careers (I did from software engineer to journalist), has no plans of ‘settling down’ (the thought scares me) and has no clear sense of direction. That’s because I want to do a lot of things in the given time frame.

In my ideal world I would be writing, reading, doing photography, traveling, meeting people, learning a new language, learning about different cultures, making documentaries and studying. I manage to do a bit of all but not to my hearts contents. I refuse to be put in a box and be labeled. I hate getting stifled. And I would absolutely detest if I had to do the same thing everyday.

A lot of people would put this as ‘not been focused about career’. My only reply to them is what are their dreams? Did they remain dreams? If their answer is yes then they have wasted their life doing what was expected of them not what they wanted to do. You live this life once. How can you let go of it? How can you go through it with nonchalance or defeat? I think that is the scarier place to be in than not knowing your exact career path.

As the sunscreen song says:
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.
The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives.

I am not 22, just a bit older than that but that doesn't matter. Why should I be eighty and look back and say I wish I could have done this differently?

Somehow I have never liked straight lines. I could never colour inside the lines. I often asked – why is brinjal purple? Why not green? Who decided this colour should be called purple? Why is A the first letter of the alphabet? Why not C? Who made these rules? Why should I follow them? That should have been an indication of how I would turn out! Back to the point. I hate walking down a regular path. I like the road less travelled.

But to contradict my self, I have never taken giant leaps of faith, that’s just not me. I take small leaps, and I almost always land on my feet. The few times I fell down, I scraped my knees, got up and walked on. I think I will slowly get where I want to be. I have eyes firmly focused on it. I am slowly working on my career and my dreams side-by-side.

And the wise old people who didn’t know which bracket to put me in, now have one called ‘Odyssey Years’. It’s not something they would be happy about. Good Indian girls don’t do ‘these things’. But at least I am living my life as opposed to going through the motions of it.

I am definitely on an odyssey, a journey - called life. And of course I have no idea why I wrote this post!

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On a completely different note, I came across this interesting forward at Vrij's blog. Do read it.

Winters and Nursery Rhymes

2007-12-15T13:36:00.000+05:30

Blow, blow, blow your nose
Gently let out the stream
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Now you can breathe

Blow, blow, blow your nose
Gently let out the stream
If you see a waterfall
Don't forget your handkerchief

Blow, blow, blow your nose
And as you quiver
Pray to god it ends soon
And don't you have to shiver

Blow, blow, blow your nose
Need tissues some more
If you have a sore throat
Don't forget to croak

Blow, blow, blow your nose
Loudly in the bath
No one will hear you
Remember not to laugh
(The snot might go in another open cavity)

Blow, blow, blow your nose
Gently let out the stream
'Cause if you're not careful
It will become a sea!

Blow, blow, blow your nose
Gently to and fro
If you do it hard enough
In all directions the water will go

Check out the original version here

Such a twisted nursery rhyme is a reflection of my state (or the state of my nose) right now. Excuse me now, while I reach out for some tissues!

One conversation. Many connotations.

2007-12-06T12:30:00.000+05:30

“Aap itney dino sey kahan thi? Aap dikhi nahi.”*

“Aap bhi toh nahi hotey they wahan. Waisey aajkal thora late ho jaati hoon. Shayad isliye….”

Senario 1
Maybe it’s a dialogue between two forbidden lovers who have been denied the pleasure of seeing each other everyday. They have now devised a way to see each other and talk to each other somehow. This is a snatch of that conversation.

Senario 2
Maybe he sees her at the bus stop everyday. She acknowledges his gaze. But both never had the courage to speak to each other. She hasn’t been coming for the past few days. One fine day he sees her again. And decides to speak to her.

Senario 3
I spot my regular auto rickshaw wallah as I am getting late to work and frantically trying to flag down a rickshaw. With a beaming smile I jump into the auto and proceed to have this conversation.

People, take your pick!

* Translation for non-Hindi speaking readers

“Where were you? I haven’t seen you in so many days.”

“Even you weren’t there. But these days I come a little late. Maybe that’s why…”

Yes...I Did It!

2007-12-01T13:08:00.000+05:30

Right I am doing bhangra and cartwheels and jumping up and down with whoops of joy. Sadly I am in the office or I wouldn't have been doing all this in my head. :D

Last Saturday I was dreaming if I will reach my goal, this Saturday I have started to climb the mountain and I can see myself getting there.

Everyone pray for me while I keep my fingers and toes crossed and inch forward!

Dreamin'

2007-11-26T12:52:00.000+05:30

She walks in pretending to be full of confidence while there is trepidation inside. And sees a sea of people milling around her. They have all come for the same thing. She comes out clutching a bag in her hands, clutching her dreams in her hands.

As she decides to go back home, by habit, she switches on the radio and hears

I don’t want to ever feel like I did that day
Take me to the place I love, take me all the way

It is a sign. After all, she remembers how she felt a few moons ago. She doesn’t want to feel like that ever. She knows where she wants to go. She silently prays that she gets there. That the dream becomes a reality.

--------------

In other news, this was my WTF moment of the day

Update: Wise Donkee has an interesting point about it here
Uropinion has an interesting poem here

Marriages are made in… banks

2007-11-23T12:05:00.000+05:30

Ever since the ‘marriage season’ has begun, almost every day I get to hear stories of marriages been stopped because the dowry demand increased on the wedding day.

I was talking to someone yesterday who told me how for 8 lakhs they were getting a groom who was only in a Government job and not that good looking. And they couldn’t ‘afford’ a groom for 15 lakhs even though he was an engineer and quite decent looking.

This bit of information left me quite disgusted. Now really, are marriages equivalent to trading? Or maybe it’s a bit like an auction house. You bring out the goods and people start naming the price till the prized possession is bought.

I pity the parents of the girl who want to ‘sell’ her to a good groom and I pity the groom’s family who greedily extend their hands to get some money. Though this trend is prevalent across the country, I can’t imagine why educated people should restore to this? NRI grooms to HRD Minister Arjun Singh to common man.

Anyway, while doing research for a news story I came across this wonderful website. Do check it out. Maybe all hope is not lost…

Lots of Random Stuff

2007-11-19T12:28:00.000+05:30

When you are greeted with sniffles, sore throat, coughs and smog filled mornings, winters have offically arrived. Not to forget sitting in the sun on a lazy sunday morning, curled up in the satellite (I have a name for my easy chair!), reading a book, snacking and then dozing off with birds chirping in the background. The bliss combined with peace of mind means I am ready to tackle the week ahead.

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Was surfing the web and came across this post by Sepia Mutiny. I always suspected something was wrong with the Times of India website. Now my fears have been confirmed.

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And heard this amazing song called 'Ban the Police' which I have been humming since the last few days. Has it been officially released? Do check it out. And here are the lyrics.

Battle Of The Sexes

2007-11-15T18:28:00.000+05:30

The discussion started with my male colleague saying how women look ‘better’ in traditional roles like cleaning, cooking, tidying the house.

He went on to say that they shouldn’t think they were equal to a man because they were stepping out of their homes to earn. It was a man’s job and the women should just earn enough to satisfy their ‘shauk’ of earning. Otherwise success goes straight to their head and they think they become good decision makers while in reality that’s not the case. On top of it they refuse (oh my god what a felony) to cook food everyday, expect the husband to help around the home and change diapers sometimes too!

His attitude made me see red. And I am no raging feminist. Maybe I am just spoilt by the men in my life – My father and my male friends who think very different from the colleague.

As I vehemently opposed to everything he had to say, he thinks I will never find a ‘good’ husband. Or maybe a man tied to my pallu (not that I wear a sari ever!). And when I said that a man secure enough to be a man will probably never think like this, he said I was dreaming on. Before the debate could end in a fist fight (I know my karate punches and blocks) or a shouting match, I went back to work.

I leave this open to debate - Do men think that women should not have ambitions. That they should sit at home and make babies. And the man, with the virtue of been born a man will always be correct?

And I know that maybe largely people in this country think like this but to encounter such a man who is educated, has a working wife and lives in Urban India, to think like this is a bit weird.

Tell me what you feel.

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On a completely different note, I had my ROFL moment of the day when Paris Hilton turned into an activist!

Childhood Memories

2007-11-12T12:08:00.000+05:30

A few days ago, a colleague was sitting next to me and he suddenly said, “You remind me of Parle G today.” I just gave him a confused look.

Some days later, he walked past me and remarked, “Chewing gum, today.”

Just two days back another one said, “Hmmm…. Something in the air just reminded me of vanilla icecream.”

And that’s when I burst out laughing. My new body lotion is vanilla scented and every time someone gets a whiff of it, it reminds them of some childhood ‘food memory’ or the other.

The story behind buying it is also very interesting. I was looking to buy a body lotion for myself and as I sniffed through a whole range of them, this particular one leapt out at me and the smell of it was very comforting. I never read the label saying ‘Vanilla scented’. But I was drawn to the smell and I instinctively brought it.

Its interesting how certain smells can transport us back to time.

In fact every time I pass through Lutyen’s Delhi, a tree which has pungent smelling leaves always reminds me of Elaichi Cream biscuits I used to eat as a child. Do any of you remember the biscuit in green and white wrapper? I used to wonder how anyone can have a biscuit making factory in this elite area of Delhi until it hit me that it was the tree doing the tricks on my senses.

On another note, yesterday I managed to get my hand on some cigarettes while my mother looked on lovingly as I bought not one, not two but five packets. And told the shopkeeper, very sheepishly that they were not for me but for my niece and nephew. It was time to induct them into the family tradition.

Before you get scandalized, I’ll let you know I am talking about sweet cigarettes. Every summer I would visit my grandmother in the dusty Hindi speaking heartland of India. And one novelty (which is produced in Delhi but never sold here!) were those white peppermint sticks in a red and white packet.

And since I was there for a day, I decided to indulge myself.

On this note, the evil me is going to start a tag. Which is your favourite childhood smell and favourite childhood sweet and why.

I tag-

Curious
Pras
Rp
Sanj
Sumit

Go on and tag five more people.

The OCD!

2007-11-04T13:27:00.001+05:30

I am one of those people who procastinate till the last moment to clean up the room/ desk/ drawer etc. I wait till the pile of objects becomes a mountain. And since half my family has the neat-freak OCD it is war time at home (this story is for another post).

My desk at work bears the brunt of this all the time. All the papers strewn around give an impression how busy I am reading all those newspapers, articles etc. (Yeah right!)

Well a few days ago, the AC maintenance guys came for their quarterly checkup. Now half the duct is right on top of my desk and as soon as he opened it, a few dead insects landed in the corner (where-things-go-only-if-they-have-to-be-retrieved-once-an-year) on top of Time magazine and other sundry stuff.

Did I care to clean my desk? No. I just took the magazine, dusted the insects into the dustbin and kept it back.

A few days later, every time I would move a paper or reach out for my namkeen packet (which is on the opposite side of the desk) I would find a dead insect. I threw the nameek.

Things really hit rock bottom when I couldn't find my post-it notes ka packet. And its not not even in either corners. It was supposed to be somewhere in the middle of the damn table.

So this Friday, clean the desk abhiyaan took place.

And I heartlessly threw papers in the dustbin. Asked the newspapers to be put in the right place in the library. Organized my books by type, size, need, importance . Organized my magazines the same way. Organized my papers the same way. Organized my stationery the same way. Organized other sundry things the same way.

And realized the 'neat freak' genes have been passed on to me as well. Its just that they need some shaking up (and dead insects) to get into action!

Update (07/11/07): Wishing everyone a Happy Diwali.

Petals of Life

2007-10-30T16:37:00.001+05:30

Making garlands of frangipani
Laughing without a care
She ran as the wind caught her hair
What bliss childhood was

Then he came along
Tucked the flower behind her ear
They walked hand in hand
Oblivious to the world

Decades have passed
She notices the petals strewn along
The white and yellow drying
She knows the end is near

And I Discovered Something...

2007-10-26T16:36:00.000+05:30

I am one of those people who, if you ask things like – what is your favourite colour/season/month, probably will not be able to give you an answer.

Its because I couldn’t be partial to one colour or season or month. And God made them all so beautiful and different from each other that it would be blasphemous for me to identify one as my supreme favourite.

Now if you wonder where this post is going, I have to tell you that I have ‘discovered’ something.

Last Saturday I was working only half a day. It was a bright sunny day and as I got out of the office, I impulsively decided to take a walk. I dug into my bag, grabbed a juicy red apple and decided to soak in the sun.

I leisurely strolled up to the city centre and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It wasn’t too hot or cold, only a slight nip in the crisp fresh air. The weather was perfect and I sat on a bench observing shoppers, lovers, families, friends and office goers.

I have decided that October is my favourite month and the onset of winters my favourite season.

Tell me, what is yours?

New Home

2007-10-23T15:51:00.000+05:30

After two years of blogging on Indiatimes O3, I have decided to move my home. Again! Its so typical of me, my desire to live a nomadic life that I shift my virtual home as often as I would like to shift my real one.

On a more serious note, my reasons for moving also include my frustation at O3. Most of the times the server is overloaded, basic features don't work properly, its low on user friendliness and the battle with spam is alomst always lost. Another concern is security.

Inspite of all this, I stayed there because there was a community but I have realized its not worth the effort. This first post and the next few others will probably be cross-posted on O3.

My first impression here is - This doesn't feel like home! This is probably a reaction when one moves to a new place and it feels unfamiliar to be there. I am still figuring out how the functions work, while the numerous options have left me in bit of a tizzy (and I am not that technologically challenged! ).

Anyway the journey of this zephyr will continue here.

For archives (11 October 2005- 15 October 2007) read my old blog here.