What Next?

I was thinking of something cheerful and fluffy to write but I can't after what happend a week ago. Its hard to see this blank page and not want to write about happened, how angry it makes you feel and how powerless and fateful life seems to have become. Its just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it could just as easily have been me or you. That's what we were robbed off last week. The right to feel safe. Because till then, terror strike was just a random link on some news page. Oh 30 people died in a bomblast somewhere, really sad that...Its not that any of us are callous, its just that we'd become soo immune to it all till this audacious attack happened. I think that's what shocked us all - the manner in which it happened and not that it happend at all. I say this because just yesterday there was a blast in Assam and 3 people died but that wasn't important to our news channels who were busy listening to the latest volt face by the Pak PM and it wasn't important to any of us either - there were no Facebook updates mourning the loss of these people. I feel sad for us. That we've become so immune that we need a heinous act to pour our anguish over.

But that's not what I wanted to write about scores have other bloggers have articulated the frustration and anger a lot better than I ever could - a few links here and here. But what I wanted to add my two cents to are the next steps. What do we do now? I want to offer some solutions because I don't want to go down as one of those people who complained but did nothing. So Mr. Prime Minister, if you are listening, a few pointers.

Firstly, had this situation occurred in a business corporation, not would I have been stripped of my job a long time back, but would have been incarcerated for eternity for bungling up so badly. Thats what I decided to - analyze this from a corporate mindset.

Its clear we need an organization change - too many mini institutions and too many turf wars, resulting in chaos and non cooperation between teams. I could hardly believe the appalling leaks that are coming out of RAW. It seems that they warned of an attack in september but didn't care what happend to it after. Every department is putting its hand up and excusing themselves from the blame. Its like saying that you knew the competition's price and you told some random person about it and your responsibility ends there. In any business, thats grounds for sending you home. We not only need a simpler organization structure that unifies internal security and intelligence agencies. I read an article on the TOI recently on the next 10 steps to take and I thought it a fairly good overview of the organizational change needed. But sadly in our country organization change isn't enough. Decision making authority is important too. If ever we do get an agency for internal security, I hope it gets a faster, quicker decision making authority too. This is what happened on the night of the tacks. Mumbai Police calls ATS who then call the chief minister who called the home minister who called the NSG chief who then called up the unit in Harayana!!! they lost close to 5 hours in the interim. Bureaucracy and hierarchy prevented the call from going to the right person.

Thats another pet peeve of mine. Why is everyone baying for the blood of ministers? Didn't we all read history in school to know that our ministers rarely stratetegize and that they just blindly sign files. period. Their handlers are the IAS officers - the secretaries. They are the ones in charge, what file should be sent, who should get transferred to where etc. Why is no one baying for their blood goddammit??? I think they are more responsible than the ministers. No ministerial secretary has resigned over this and I wonder why? Powerful IAS lobby perhaps? This is aking to firing the non executive board member of a company instead of the CEO. I heard someone saying on CNN-IBN that most IAS officers consider the home ministry a "punishment posting". Internal security is a punishment??

Apart from organizational change, we need the best and brightest minds working for internal security. But that isn't possible with the salaries and the equipment that our forces get. I think our forces did a stellar job that day despite the poor equipment that they had. Tells volumes about our misplaced priorities isn't it?? I don't care if I have to pay a special tax on internal security but can we please pay them a million times more so that they are motivated to protect this nation??

I'm tired. I'm really tired that it takes over 4100 terror attacks to act tough. We are worse than a soft state, we are a country with no balls whatsoever. Call me unpatriotic if you will but thats what I think. Whoever in the world can come and fuck us over and over again and all we do is issue " a strong condemnation". Mr. Prime Minister, do something goddammit!! Show them that nobody messes with us!

Epiphany can be a salman khan song..sometimes..

Saturday evening it was. 5PM. I stood with nothing left to do, antsy, slightly depressed when an SMS beeped. It said "Wanna do scream? Free pick up and drop facility available" This, my friends, is what is called, "Divine Intervention". Its not the red sea parting, or about sending plagues to desert dwellers, its about a sweet missive from the heavens that pretty much answers all questions that a girl might have on a Saturday night
- Where to go tonight?
- Who will buy me free drinks?
- When do I get to wear that new godawesome dress?
- When do I get to wear that new godawesome shoes?
- How can I do dancing tonight?
- How can I go dancing, drinking, wearing godawesome clothes and not spend any money?

Answer: Tadaa....by going to Scream (Pune's only happening night club) with friends V and S.

V and S were the two blokes I treated for my birthday and to who, I gave a lot of hell for, for giving me Milk Chocolates as present. Lovely two people that they are, inspite my shameless demand for "tangible prezzies", they decided to give me 2 books and a trip to Scream as my gift.

I love night clubs. I love being awash in a sea of pulsating rhythms. So when the SMS from V came, It was all I could do to restrain myself from bouncing all around my room. I was listening Keane being pensive all day and now I got a chance to jiggy to the Desi Girl song from Dostana. Life was perfect! So I wore my godawesome dress which was a swishy strapless number in red with gold stripes (ok my description does not do justice..but it looked awesome I swear!) and inaugurated my awesome black open - toe sandals from Charles & Keith. When the two blokes came to pick me up, I was already in Diva mode.

Then they tell me that we wouldn't be drinking at the club at all. They were instead, planning to buy Vodka and coke from a local wine shop and drink it all up in the parking lot of Scream. When I heard their plans, I wanted to Scream (bad pun..I know) "I'm dressed to kill and you guys want me to drink vodka from a plastic cup??" It was either that or no Scream they said. So, me, the much-reduced-in- ego diva had no choice but to drink up in the parking lot with all the security guards giving us shady looks. But it was fun! we all marveled at the ability of 3 successful people to still be utterly frugal. Soon, thanks to being very liberal with the Vodka, I was all wheeeeeeeee and tipsy!

That's when we entered the club and it totally rocked. It was glorious uninhibited dancing and I felt I could keep dancing forever. V decided to teach me salsa in the middle of the dance floor and the man spun me around everywhere and it was all dizzyingly good. To thank him for teaching me some salsa, I showed V my favourite dance step in the whole world - the water sprinkler!! I don't care if it looks silly but its the bestest! Then weirdness happened when this random chick decided to intrude onto our group and started hitting on S. Then after dancing with S she started hitting on ME! I started freaking out and was all WTF!!! V rescued me and random chick went back to hitting on S which made V and me sigh. We were both missing our significant others and cursing our respective situation of being in long distance relationships. We were getting along really fine when the music switched from house to bollywood and then the whole place went crazy. I don't know where I'd be without bollywood. I got to do the desi girl dance finally. All that practising in front of the mirror helped and I acquitted myself perfectly.

When Scream decided to close at 2 PM, we all were exhausted beyond belief. Although, may I please add a shout out to Charles & Keith? 6 inch heels and it totally didn't hurt! I'm going to be their brand ambassador from now on! I lasted 4 hours on the dance floor without once taking my shoes out. Ladies, please pay homage to C & K. We went back to the parking lot to drink some more and reminisce quietly. We switched on the FM and guess what, they were playing Salman Khan's greatest hits!!! Just when I thought this night couldn't sillier, they played DA BOMB salman khan song - Garam Chai!!! And there we were, 3 people with moderately successful careers, with stress, life's myriad worries, laughing and singing "Ek Garam Chai ki pyaali ho, Koi mujko pilaney waali ho"

That's when it struck me, Life needs to be silly. It's what rescues us from all the gravity around us. Who da thunk, salman khan would help me sort through all the depressing clutter in my life.

P.S: V and S, big sloppy kisses to both of you for being soooo nice to me.

Oh btw, If it isn't clear already, I *HATE* Facebook

So its a bright and sunny new day and you find that you are only five minutes late to work. You heave a sigh of relief because:



a. You don't have to make lame ass excuses for your late-ness such as "Oh I've been working so much with the US team that it twisted my sense of time and I started believing that I was on daylight saving too"

b. You are spared the embarrassment of seeing the look of disbelief on your boss's face when do infact have a genuine excuse like the last time - remember that? You told your boss that you lost your debit card and had to spend an entire hour canceling the card and then had to wait for another hour for a friend to give you the money because you were penniless. And because you were penniless, you actually couldn't come to office. Yeah your boss chortled away. But that didn't disturb you. What disturbed you was that your boss didn't show any concern for your state of penury. What's happening to the world you ask.



So, its all good today morn. Many people commented on your new haircut, which is always an upper. You turn on your laptop. Watch it hum back to life. Curse the shit out of it when it takes too long to load. You let your mails download one by one. Or in your case, make it bombs dropping by one by one. Work for you has never been less than world war 3. So while the bombs are dropping, you check your personal mail account to see if you have any new job offer. Yes your official position has always been that you love your work and yada yada and you really do but it doesn't really hurt to be curious. And that's how you justify a lil personal mail checking. All seems to be good there. Oh. Wait a facebook message from someone you exchanged pleasantries with 8 yrs back. Oh you wonder what she could want?



So you log into facebook and immediately see that your entire "friends" circle is up and about and so bloody active. Lot of status message updates already. Somebody's status message says that they just had a fancy breakfast that included bacon, ham, croissants and preserves. You sigh on reading that and your stomach rumbles because:



a. You've forgotten what a breakfast is because you haven't had one in a zillion years, because you have to look after yourself all by yourself

b. For you, there can only be only dynamite breakfast and that is the set dose special at shanti sagar together with south indian filter coffee.



Deep sigh. And you are filled with hate for that person with the fancy breakfast because just 20 minutes into your day and you are already yearning...



You peruse through your mails and pay special attention to the one from the boss. It says he needs the budget by 4 PM. Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit you say. You totally forgot about it. An entire year's budget in less than 6 hours!! (coffee breaks not included) But you don't panic. You are strangely zen about the whole thing because:



a. You did this last year in 3 hours, so considering that, this time it seems like a walk on the beach

b. You have everything you need so its just a matter of putting things together. Infact you even have the competition's budget - which needed a lot of chicanery on your part and its something that your proud of

c. You have a secret weapon called the "Miscellaneous" field. A place where you are going put all your extra needs if you run of time



So, all sorted, you toggle your windows and come back to the facebook page. You decide that this would be the day that you would update your status message. You think hard about what you want to say. Unlike other people, you are not at all glib when it comes to one-line self explanatory sentences. So you think hard. You frown. How about..



"..... is facing world war 3 at work"



Nah..too boring and very work slavish. Meanwhile your voyeuristic self rears its pretty head and you start trawling through all your "friends' "photo albums. You see that one of them has posted pics on the Sistine chapel. Again you sigh a deep sigh. You look around your cubicle, which, infact you remind yourself, was voted the most unclean cubicle in your entire building. You also remember how they took pictures of it to educate people on how not to maintain a cubicle. Sistine Chapel sounds nice you sigh. You yearn for a vacation. You've not had a vacation since err..well two weeks ago when you went to Ooty. That's it, you think. You'll tell everyone about your Ooty trip



"............is wishing that she was in front of a toasty fireplace in Ooty"



Ooty? you realize how lame that sounds. There are people putting up pictures about bar crawls in barcelona and here you are talking about lame ass ooty. You veto that one too. About the bar crawl, you wonder how people go to bars armed with cameras because:



a. When you want to get drunk, you never tell the people you are gulping with to hang on a sec and pose for a pic. How do people post apparently drunk pictures you ask yourself?

b. It sounds utterly lame ass and cheesy



You trawl some more and find that your best friend is "in a relationship" all of a sudden. And there's a little pink heart next to it. You start hyper ventilating because:



a. anybody in any relationship makes you hyper ventilate out of curiosity because that's just the person you are

b. You are hopping mad that the bitch didn't tell you and that you had to find out



So you do the most logical thing and immediately speed dial a common friend (CF). CF tells you that the bitch didn't tell anyone and that it was a facebook announcement you see. I've heard of breaking news and all but this was ridiculous. What ever happened to the good ol' fashioned manner of calling all your friends and telling them that you're in love and all. Yes, to be honest, you loathed such saccharine calls, but in hindsight, it seems more acceptable than this pink heart menace. You want your status message to say



".............Loathes pink hearts"



You veto that too, because in reality you don't loathe pink hearts. You just hate the bitch. You get back to your excel sheet and concentrate on the budget. Your meeting reminder pops up and reminds you that you have a major product meeting to attend to. You decide to go because:



a. Its good time pass

b. Its a meeting where cake and freshly brewed tea is served. What's not to attend you ask?



The meeting breezes on. You find yourself engaged. You are relieved and happy to know that the product will not only do well in the next 5 years, it will also kick ass. Hooray, pipip, Jai etc. Your ebullience makes you want to change your status message to



"......is working for the winning team"



but you shoot it down because being gun-ho about your company is soo passe in this world. You come out of the meeting and go back to your budget. You notice that your "Miscellaneous" line item is looking alarmingly large. You also notice that the whole world has converged on facebook and is furiously Web2.0-ing. Two of your colleagues ping you asking for advice on relationships and career. You are a born nutcase and instead of realizing that you should stay away from it all, you plunge in and give on full on advice. You tell one to go for it and the other to follow his bliss. You colleague thanks you for the relationship advice and informs you that he will break up with his girlfriend. You gulp. You double gulp. You then launch into a full on speech and try to dissuade this guy from breaking up because:



a. You don't want to be THAT person who precipitated the break up. Bad karma follows THAT person

b. You refuse to learn and just shut-the-fuck-up



Post the traumatic stress of being THAT person, you want your message to read



"..................is making a mental note NEVER to give relationship advice"



You veto that too because you know that isn't really true because as far as you know, giving random advice is truly your forte.



You are done with the budget and mail it off to the boss. You see that since morning all your facebook friends have been updating and re-updating their status messages. You have taken an entire day and not even come up with one while your buddies have made 15 updates already. A realization, that surges forth with a deep resonance, hits you. You loather this entity. Facebook. Because:



a. You are learning minute details of people that you wish you hadn't known. What ever happened to that thing called Discretion you ask. Why can't people just shut up you wonder? Why do I have to know what they ate, what they feel, what they are doing, who they are doing....why all this information and the urge to share. If people want to share, they should start a blog you say to yourself

b.Its unbridled exhibitionism. People don't want to share, they just want to show off. Oh look how cool I am, look how many friends I am etc. Its like high school and college all rolled into one. Take for instance all those people suddenly taking Barack Obama quizes. Really?? when surely 6 months ago these very people would have though that Barack Obama was some sort of sordid, diabolical south indian movie.

c. Your real true friends are lost in this diluted pool called "Friends list" It has all become so random. You hate the fact that your best friends write you non-intimate scraps that everyone can see and that those personal phone calls or emails have stopped because everything is on display on the profile page

d. You apparently have shit loads of work when apparently the rest of the world is having a care free life. Don't these people have work to do you ask?



You ruminate and close the facebook page.

................................................................................................................................................................

DISCLAIMER

1. Fictionalized account of my work place. No resemblance to the actual work I do and yes I do do a lot of work regardless of what my account might suggest

2. I Hate facebook. that part is true

3. Yes, I think in bullet point format.

Do not disturb - furiously tucking into sambhar rice here

I love coming home to bangalore because I get the opportunity to unleash myself on all the rasam-sambhar out there. I love south indian cuisine. Its my soul food. Infact when I got home, my mother asked me what "special food" I would like her to make and without blinking an eye lid, asked her to keep the sambhar and rice coming. It feels like truly coming home you know when the familiar taste of the hot sambhar kicks in. I don't know what "Home" is, but it gives a feeling of security which feels most odd.

For the past 2 years (almost), I've been on an alien diet. Roti, rajma, unfamiliar curries and tastes. It has dulled my palate and made it indifferent to food. I hate eating in Pune, I don't know why though. I'm sure living on your own does this to you, together with working 14-16 hours. I hate coming home after a hard day and dealing with the fact that I have to make dinner. Being the lazy person I am, I just nibble at some brown bread or when I'm feeling particularly industrious, make some pasta. But still, I hate eating the food. This realization just hit me when I was asking for a third helping of sambhar rice. I was surprised by how much I was enjoying my food. It filled every dull pore in my palate and energized it. Thanks to all the copious amounts of rice consumed, I feel like a thoroughly sated beached whale.

I have also been tucking into some awesome sea food. I guess that's one of the advantages of being managalorean, sea food is par for the course. Lots of pomfret, tuna and sardine and I'm more than making up for the 6 months that I went without having any sea food.

Thats why I love coming home. I'm treated with so much indulgence by the parents. Every request of mine is acquiesced to- even the TV remote is handed over to me. THAT in my family is HUGE. Its a great responsibility and I have discharged it with great character by watching repeat episodes of America's Next Top Model and Big Boss. Watching the TV with my parents has scared me though. Scared me because I've realized that my parents watch the very same programs as I do. My dad mentioned how much he liked Bones and Prison Break and my mother knew all the goss on Big Boss. Infact, I was filpping through a Susheela Raman interview on TV and my mom asked me to keep it on because she liked Susheela Raman. Infact my parents sound more erudite than the RBI Governor. Its very very cool that they are so current, but it somehow feels like invading into my territory.

I love their coolnes though. I worship their nonchalant attitude to everything. After spending time with them, I realize how fortunate I am to have such liberal parents. Parents who are not insistent on marrying into the right background and shit like that. Parents who are okay with me staying out late. It may sound trivial but after interacting with prudes in Pune, I know I am fortunate to have parents who'll even mix weird cocktails for you. Mom shocked the wits out of me by mixing wine and sprite. Its btw a most awesome mixture and we are planning to call it "Write". That was another scarily cool moment because, now my whole experiment of adding vodka to cough syrup last month seems genetic. EGAD!!

My parents are weird people and I love them for that because that has in turn has contributed to me being weird. On being confronted with a cocktail mixing Mom, most children would be alarmed, but not me. I'm thinking of introducing her to Tequila and Bombay Sapphire gin and can't wait to see what she comes up with in the next 6 months hehe

*raises a toast to quirky parents all over*

Mere Pass...ISRO ke scientists hain!

Well history was made yesterday, no I'm not alluding to the successful launch of the Chandryaan mission, but to the fact that CNN IBN featured a half hour special on all the scientists involved in the mission. Why history? because it was probably the longest, unbridled footage of South Indians on mainstream television, since well, Kamal Hassan sang mere jeevan sathi, to serenade Rati Agnihotri in Ek Dooje Ke liya on Doordarshan (as an aside, should I get myself examined because I actually remember this thing??) . I'm not kidding about this. All the scientists that were featured were South Indians and no where in this footage did people make fun of the way South Indians spoke, walked, danced, oiled their hair etc etc. To say, I was stunned would be an understatement. I was infact most suspicious of the whole thing and was quite sure that a Sardarji would pop out in the end and say chak de phatte and make fun of the way "madrasees" ate pappads or washed their bums or whatever mannerism of ours that people find peculiar, even if it was rocket science that we were talking about.

That's my main peeve actually. I don't see my ethos in mainstream television. South Indians are rarely featured in mainstream media. All the ads have this good looking punjabee family with little bunty who has a little beanie on his head. Little bunty infact comes across as a perfect pest but does that matter? He's punjabee, he represents the entire nation. Infact a couple of years back when Chevloret came out with a Karva Chauth Ad, all my, ahem, North Indian friends really lurrved the AD. I ofcourse, didn't get (still don't get) Karva Chauth, because in South India, women don't starve for their husband's longevity, but infact beat them up if they (the men) even so much as moot such an idea. I hated that Ad actually, more for the fact that Chevolet ostensibly chose to advertize to a North Indian Mileu. What about the rest of us who don't get/care about Karva Chauth? There is no South Indian-ess portrayed anywhere on TV. If a paint company talks about celebrations, they show a North Indian wedding. I hate the fact that when I see TV, I can't relate to anything. And no Vidya Balan and Madhavan on Airtel's Ad don't qualify because although they both are south indian, they don't act South Indian. I mean which South Indian woman massages her husband's shoulders?? She would more likely whack him on the head and tell him to massage his own goddamn shoulders. The only south indian person on TV that I can clearly recall, is Mohinder Suresh on Heroes, and he's on American TV!! Although, that too is a bit of a farce, because which southie would be caught dead with a name like Mohinder?? I personally thinks that the producers of Heroes should be given points for understanding the great north-south divide in India, even better than us Indians.

There are two reasons for this methinks. One - is that south indian culture is not attuned to spreading propoganda and the second - we don't control the media. Lets tackle number one. South Indians are assimilators not propagaters. We don't make an effort to propogate our culture to people. So when the immigrant population in Bangalore rises, the auto drivers, start speaking in Hindi and everybody talks about what a great melting pot the city is. We are melting pot while the brits rock to bhangra at the London underground. Point number two, is self explanatory considering most south indians are loathe to do an arts degree, so it is no wonder that we have no presence in the media. As there is (almost) no presence, it isn't surprising that our stories, our ethos is never portrayed. I'm yet to come across a book in recent times on South Indian life. There are tons on the Mehras, the Aroras and the Chatterjees but none on poor Kuppuswamy and family. Anita Rau Badami's Tamarind Mem and R K Narayan's stories come to mind but there's still a great void.

That my wonderful traditions are never portrayed anywhere is what peevs me today. That I feel like an alien sometimes in my own country. That I sometimes feel itsn't even my country to begin with. That I love my rasam-sambhar and have to search high and low for a specialty South Indian restaurant to serve it here in Pune, when almost any nondescript food joint can cook up Butter Chicken in a trice. That people chortle when I speak in Kannada and call it a jalebi language. That I have to feel apologetic when I eat rice with my hands.

You can't imagine the amount of jibes I've had to take because of my South Indianess. Be it listening to a guy making fun of south indian women and their tendency to oil their hair or listening to people make fun of our devotion to Rajnikanth. I hate reacting to negative stereotypes and worse, explaining our ethos to people. Why aren't we ever portrayed in a decent manner on TV for instance? Either we have a terrible accent or too dark or whatever.

I was having an argument once with this Guy who was majorly dissing Bangalore and was waxing eloquence about his Dilli. He then veered the conversation to how Bangalore's crumbling infrastructure reflected the lackadaisical nature of South Indians, while the awesome Infra in Delhi showed how sprightly his brethren were. He almost said, "Mere pass Delhi Metro hain, Night life hain, 6 lane road hain....tumhare pass kya hain?"

Well, he knows the answer now!

Silly!

She: We should start talking about deeper stuff, you know, like philosophy and stuff. We talk like a superficial couple..we need more depth...

He: Ok, so do you know where the Mariana Trench is?

She (absentmindedly): I dunno...somewhere in the pacific....err...why?

He: You said you wanted to talk about "deeper stuff".....??

Happy birthday baby! I love the madness that is you!

Ze Burday Update

Well my plans of getting rich on my birthday backfired majorly. Instead, I ended up losing a lot of money, which has led me to abandon plans of ever mass advertizing the day of my birth again. I got the usual SMSes, Orkut/Facebooks scraps, calls, flowers, cards, chocolates but no Money and my birthdays, since time immemorial have always been about the money.

Before, I be accused of being a cold-hearted b***ch, let me plead my case. Ever since I was a kid, I have always gotten cash on this day. I never liked the presents that my relatives gave me. Either it was some silly puzzle book (people who give puzzle books to little kids should be shot, well to be fair... I used my puzzle book presents to gift other hapless kids..which in my opinion is the best way to use terrible gifts) or a book I'd already read. I got a famous five book as a present once when I was 15!! This, when I was reading Dickens for goddsakes!! When I opened the gift wrapping and saw what was inside, I wanted to scream "Are you Kidding me???" So I decreed to everyone that it was in everybody's best interest that I get cash for my birthdays. I would be able buy what I wanted and good karma would follow the gift giver. Clearly a win-win for everybody. That's when the deluge started. Packets of cash stuffed envelopes from everyone, which went to ma for safe keeping. After combining the money from the Diwali bounty, I use to make my way to Gangarams, my pilgrimage spot in bangalore and buy tons and tons of books. I never used my birthday money to buy things other than books till I was in 2nd year college. So to cut a long story short, cash is what makes my Birthday a Birthday. Otherwise I see no point for this day to be celebrated. I don't like gift wrapped presents because 9 times out of 10, I get something I have no use for and I end up cursing people and their ilk till 2070.

So when yesterday, dawned, I waited to see if the usual suspects would offer cash again. Ok thats a terrible way to address family but I do it in jest. The parents called in promptly at midnight. They were very sweet and lovely. Then we came to the part about the presents. Last year I got a diamond solitaire from them so this year my expectations were understandbly higher. Ma said that I'd get my present when I came home in a couple of weeks. I was actually horrified and asked her if it was a "gift wrapped kind of present" she was talking about. My mother, god bless her, knows me and never judges my quirks. "Cash it is then" she said. My brother called later. He wished me first and promptly launched into a monologue on the cold he was battling. I behaved like a good sister and told him about my home remedies that he could use, while all the while thinking about how I could cut this crap and fast forward to the part where I'd be offered cash, in aussie dollars or Indian ruppees. I was actually trying to see which currency was more beneficial, given the current currency exchange rates. After finishing the tale about his epic battle, he asked me to have a great day and hung up. WTF!!!! I stared at the phone in disbelief. My own brother! Judas!! that was the story basically, all the relatives I knew, called me and asked me to have a great day. How the hell was I to have a "great day" when no one was giving me cash to have that proverbial "Great day" huh? Thats when it hit me. Thats what 25 means. You're grown up. You don't need cash and you ain't gonna get it either. I find it greatly unfair that just because I'm self sufficient and have a job, I'm not gonna get cash presents anymore!

So given the grand disillusionment, I only did what a girl in my place would do, I went shopping for the birthday dress. Ok let me warn all the boys reading, that this is the part where they should skip because it includes all the boring girly stuff. My bought a lovely black embroidered corsett top, which not only looked beautiful but also fit me like a dream. I cry and burst into happy tears when things fit me like a dream. I must clarify that I'm not overweight or anything, its just that I have unusual proportions. Large hips, large bosom and slender waist, all translates into fuck ups in the trial room. Infact there was time, several months ago when, a dress I had gotten into wouldn't come off. I was utterly horrified and was half afraid that the store people would tear me out of the dress and would make me pay for the shambles. I speed dialed the loved one in desperation. I knew there was nothing he could do given that he was what 800km away, but he is my wise person and I always turn to him when I have to extricate myself (quite literally in this case) from any situation. So I called him and explained the situation. He calmed me down and told me that if I had gotten into it, it would very reasonable to assume that I could get out it too. Only this man could calm the madly blabbering and hyperventilating me with a booster shot of reason. I calmed down and got of the dress one boob at a time. It was actually very funny had it not been horrifying. Yes, so coming back to the birthday dress. It was gorgeous and I teamed it up with a beautiful pair of silver open-toes stilletoes (6 inches of glorious heels) from Charles & Keith. I looked all radiant and soo 25 and sorted type.

Dressed to kill, I took my friends and my roomate to La Dolce Vita for the birthday dinner and the dinner party gave me Milk Chocolates as a present. Now Milk Chocolates is actually worse than puzzle books. As far as birthday bounty was concerned this birthday was a disaster. I had a whole birthday register going. I had picked out what book I wanted, what shoes I wanted, but, nothing, except for a bunch of superfluous things I have no use for. All this has made me realize that once you're over a certain age, birthdays cease to be significant. It has all become so perfunctory. Apart from family and a few friends, nobody, including my closest friends, bothered to call. Yes, technically, I got tons of scraps on orkut and SMSes but I missed seeing or hearing the joy of it being my birthday being conveyed to me, like they used to in school. I loved birthdays in school, all the more, because my birthday always used to disappear in the diwali holidays and I was the only one who never got to wear a pretty dress or to whom the entire class sang along to the tune of "happy Birthday" :

"You were born in the Zoo
You were born in the Zoo
With the monkeys and the donkeys
...and you are one too"

But when my birthday did come on a school day it was fabulous. I used to be assaulted by bear hugs from all the other girls. My friends were genuinely happy for me and I was actually glad it was my birthday. In class 12, for example, the class got a cake and I cut the cake infront of everybody, complete with candle blowing, singing and all. A Funny incident that ocurred, was when I went to give a piece of cake to my physics teacher later. She asked me what my plans for the day were and I said, very deadpan-edly, "I'm planning to have an orgy tonight." Obviously, Mallu, physics teacher didn't understand what orgy meant and told me to "Have fun and enjoy every second." I'm sure I don't have many redeeming qualities in me but Chutzpah is one thing I have an abundance of.

So yesterday night, when I signed for the dinner bill, I realized what an Investment banker in Manhattan might feel like these days. You take certain steps expecting bounty and then you end up in the red horribly. Another life's lesson learnt the hardway. I realized that apart from the superfluous associations with Birthdays, it is also a day to look back and be thankful for. And I do have a lot to be thankful for, especially the people in my tribe who stand my wild rants and encourage me when I'm down.

The last thing I expected was to get wise on my 25th. Damn!

waiting for that macrame bird of prey to come down and sing la-ling la-ling la-ling...

Yes, that's my sound track for October. Andrew Bird's My Skin. Its so very bohemian raphsody and has me singing laling laling laling...which is a good thing because its OCTOBER people! Clearly it doesn't take a genius to figure its my favourite month of the year. It has always been. October is the one month in the year that gives you a break. I'm not speaking in a literal sense, ofcourse in school we used to get holidays for dussehra, but I'm talking about the state of mind here. October is the month to stop running. It's the month of winter sunshine and blue skies. Its not as horrid as those winter months that bring with them coughs and illness, although there's a certain nippiness that adds to the excitement of the month.

Part of what makes October special are the festivals. Navratri, Dussehra and Diwali. I'm not one for festivals but if there is merriment count me in! Yes Navratri is part of my psyche even though I'm as south indian they get. I like Navratri and the whole Daandiya ding. I went for daandiya again this time and it was sooper fun. Funny thing, though, was the fact that after 2 hours of daandiya, the music turned to old faithful punjabee music and Singh again became king. What is it with us and punjabee music?? I'm looking forward to Diwali this time because I get to go to Bangalore for a full week! I can't wait to go to LOR and have cheese bites. yummmm!

Also, another thing that makes October special, is that it features my Birthday. I only like it because I'm guaranteed money and prezzies on this day. Which is a good thing because I'm like a human ATM, doling out money and paying various bills every other day. This time, given the financial situation, I've decided I'll accept only cash. I'm crushed about turning 25 though...eeegad. I don't feel 25 at all and I'm thinking if that says something about me. I don't feel like I have achieved much you know..... aah fuck it. Tomorrow, just tomorrow, I get rich.

Full Award-Shavard Only

what do you know, my dear friend suhas has presented me with the following honour

Thankee, thankee *passeses imaginary glasses of champagne around*. Thanks Suhas :)

I like Suhas's posts because of a quiet sort of irreverance in his writing. This understated way of cocking asnook at things around him is extremely endearing. My favourite ofcourse was the beatles' spoof of yellow submarine. Suhas, my man, do write often.

As with tradition, I'll pass the baton on to some of my favourite blogs who I read quietly and who ofcourse deserve to be read by everyone because they're so awesome.

1. Amrita: My favourite blogger and best friend since yore. I love her details on life as a grad student (ahem, now a pretty famous grad student) in Australia. She also blogs regularly and even though we are miles apart, I feel like I have a pulse on my best buds' life. and Girl, I'm not exaggerating when I say this, you're the only scientist apart from the Stephen Hawking that I'll spend time reading

2. Vaish: I love her blog period. I love the quiet passion with she writes about her travels, food and ofcourse tea. Sometimes, when she's describing food, I can actually feel the taste, sitting over 2 oceans apart. Ofcourse I hate for that because it makes me instantly hungry. Her blog is replete with wonder photographs, especially of food. So don't tell me I didn't warn you if you drool all over your keyboard

3. Megha: I have to admit that her blog is a recent discovery. I got to know her through Amrita and now I'm pretty hooked to her blog. Especially about her travel posts. I see them and sigh a deep sigh and then wanderlust strikes me.

I also read a lot of other blogs. I love Jabberwock's blog and the Mad Mamma. Blogs are a part of my daily fix. The first thing I do in the mornings is check everybody's blog. It sort of reinforces a feeling that all is right with the world you know...knowing that my friends no matter where they are doing great. God bless ya'all

Now here are the rules for all..ahem..awardees..

1. Award other people. (Or zero, or one, or two depending on how seriously you decide to take this).

2. Write a post about this award, and link to my blog in that post.(Optional)

3. Buy me any food or drink for this award. If anyone wants to know I like seafood and no vegetarian food please

Pop goes my heart

This is an improptu post. Just saw a movie called Music and Lyrics, yeah that one, starring Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. It was giggle worthy and very cute. But, I don't want to talk about the RomCom buuuut about the title song of this movie. Its called Pop! Goes My Heart. Its hilarious!! My roomate and I were rolling on the floor laughing at this. lololol

It brought up loads of memories of 80s Pop. I LOVE 80s Pop. I grew up on them. My dad used to get something called best of CBS tapes from bombay whenever he came home from there. These CBS tapes contained the hits of the year. Dad was transferred to bombay you see for 12 years I think. We saw him once in 6 months and he came bearing gifts always. To us he was the greatest daddy in the world because he got us so many fabulous things, with twinkle in his eyes. He also got us new music - nice, peppy songs with very catchy beats that we as a family would sway to. That's why I love 80s Pop in a way. It harks back to happier times when music came out of a magic box called the the tape player that we would watch mesmerizedly (is that a word?) looping infinitely. Sigh, theres no charm in the art of playing music these days

There's this quality to 80s Pop that I find utterly endearing. I can't quite describe it - Its cheesy, its weird, its catchy and its sort of uplifting you know? I find it more palatable than Pink Floyd. Sorry people. Thats what I think. But you know what makes Pop ..er..well..Pop? Its the SYNTHESIZER! Any good Pop song would have an overdose of this. May be its just me, but I miss Synthesizer riffs on songs today. Well anyway, the movie got me thinking of my favourite Pop songs. Here they are in no particular order. Go ahead, listen to them and make your day. See thats how much I love the 4 people who read this blog.

1. Step By Step - New Kids on the Block: I used to watch MTV most wanted as a kid in the mornings, before I left for school. When this song came out, I used wait for this song every morning. This is quintessential POP for me. On another note, how cool is my dad? he used to let me watch the most awesome videos and I was 8 years old and was the only one in my class to watch MTV. I even wrote to Nonie, who used to host MTV most wanted at that time. My dad very cutely posted the letter to Hungom Bay, Hong Kong but the buggers never played my song :(

2. Wake me up before you go go - Wham!: I love George Michael, I really do inspite of Wham! I still have the wham tapes. They are mouldy and damaged but it makes me nostalgic to the time when music was about the sound and the beat and not so much about the lyrics. I'm not a lyrics person at all. I somehow don't pay attention what is being sung. I love the beats and the Rhythm. May be that's why I like Pop so much, its sooo uncomplicated you know? While we are discussing Wham! do check out Last Christmas and Faith. George Michael had the sexiest music videos methinks. They were sexy but not trashy. Too Funky is my eternal favourite (would you like me to seduce you? Is that what you're trying to tell me?)

3. Take on Me - A-Ha: Morten Harkett, ahhhhhh, sigh... need I say more. A norse god who sang in english. What more can a girl ask? I loved the song and the video. I saw the video later but it was so close to what I had imagined! Btw is it just me or have we given up on videos? I haven't seen a single video that made go WOW in that last 4 or 5 years. Is our generation so satiated with the digital world that we are no longer inspired?

4. Rhythm is gonna get you - Gloria Esteban & Miami Sound Machine:This song typifies a synthesizer heavy song. This song was even copied bollywood in a movie called Tridev. Yesss that one where Nasseruddin Shah is wearing a Cowboy Hat and Kimi Katkar. Jeez, may be thats why I remember Tridev

5. Tarzon Boy - Baltimora: Raise your hands if you've heard this song before. If you've not, you should not waste a single minute and listen forsooth right NOW! If you're at work, turn up the volume when Maurizio Bassy's voice goes "ooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaahoooooooooooo" ..ok I was trying to represent the Tarzan Howl in text form there.

6. Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now - Starship: Perfect ending for this post on POP. Great Grace Slick vocals. Sing with me....
And we can build this dream together
Standing strong forever,
Nothings gonna stop us now
And if this world runs out of lovers
We'll still have each other
Nothings gonna stop us,
nothings gonna stop us

Ok now, go back to work. Tata and pip-pip

New shoes, Mumbai and other things that make life exciting

The sniffles are out! my home remedies worked and how! Ok I'll stop but just wanted to inform those people hooked on antibiotics to try a safer approach. With the sniffles out of the way, I looked at the world anew and found that we are in September which in Pune means that that the festive season has indeed begun. The Ganesh utsav is on, all speakers blaring, where lord Ganesh, in his fancy new age pandal, can be heard telling the masses that Singh indeed is King. Thats why I love Ganesh Utsav's in Pune. Its so unintentionally irreverant. I've heard more 70's bollywood classics and Shive Sena rhetoric in these pandals than any Bajan extolling Lord Ganesh.Pandals, it seems, are a way of paying homage to the people's "God", so merriment is indeed the norm. Overall good fun, except when you have no power at 9 PM and the speakers outside are still blaring. Yes, these pandals have backup generators when my apartment complex does not. That's the thing about Pune sometimes. Priorities seem misplaced here.

Anyway, had some work at Mumbai last friday so ended up spending the weekend at Good Ol Mumbai. I love driving over to Mumbai. Since I don't have a car, in my case, I'm generally driven there and have ample time to take in the awesome scenary of the western ghats. This drive always invigorates me. After going through the weaving road, crossing the ghats, one feels like entering the promised land on entering Mumbai. It all seems soo apt. What I love though about the drive is the Vada Pavs. I'll say it again for effect - VADA PAVS. I love them. Especially that ones you get at Karjat. Oh my god, this is probably the only thing that is keeping me here. Every time I eat Vada Pavs on the expressway, I think to myself, I'll never leave this country, I'll open a vada pav stall and make it my life's mission to spread this wondrous entity around the country. O ye venture capitalists, if you want the next best thing, look no further than the vada pav. Give me funding you bitches...... Ahem you get the drift. This time the drive was even more awesome because it rained so gloriously. The western ghats look superb when it rains and there are this rivulets that are formed on the road and when you drive at 120 Kmph, it sets off a humongous splash on the side that goes whooooooosh. Its awesome and the twelve year old within me is doing excited cartwheels

Mumbai is ofcourse fun because my favourite cousin lives there with her family. She is my favourite because not only does she make AMAZING mangalorean chicken curry and other sea food, she also does impromptu jigs with me when our fav songs come on. I love her spontaneity. Infact, Mumbai being THE place when it comes to Ganesh Visarjans, we started dancing in the kitchen as we watched a Ganesh procession which was blaring the song "Bachna ae haseeeno..". We were even giggling uncontrollably because the thought of Lord Ganesh asking all the beauties to beware was too funny. And there was this marathi song. My favourite at the moment. Although its a Hindi song, it was featured in a marathi movie. Hear it and tell me its not Groovy. Lol. I love the madness in these moments. When our eyes are shining and we are doing ridiculous dance moves. It does not matter one bit because we are happy and care free

Oh also watched Rock On for the second time with my cousin and her family. I loved the movie and enough has been said to give it an additional 2 weeks at the theatres, although, for me, the show stealer was Purab Kohli. He was without doubt the soul of the film. The movie also reminded me of the RV band that all of us hated but secretly admired. What was their name again? anybody? It had something to do with milk and I remember they had a female drummer. You know I always wanted to be a drummer. Its sooo me. I told this to mom once and she rather over enthusiastically pushed me towards the Violin, which I love and will be the prodigy that I know I am, but I swear when I get my own pad someday, I'm gonna blare drums man! Yes, I'll be that cool drummer chick, with a hot belly button ring and 6 inch heels!

Speaking of heels, I made my pilgrimage to Aldo's store in Worli. Granted, its no Blahnik, but Aldo shoes are still soo HOT. I got myself a beautiful new pair of Mary Janes. I love them. I want to talk to them all day. I want to ask them how their day was and their opinion on who will become the next president of the united states. They're soo pretty that I'm dreading wearing them and besmirching them. At the Aldo store I had a minor celebrity sighting. Lilette Dubey was there with her daughter, Neha (remember Monsoon Wedding?) Oddly enough, they both were wearing identical black and white striped tops. They looked like a tag team wrestling team. I didn't realize it was dear Lilette because her top blinded me but after I got used to the visual aberration, I got my fill of celeberity sneak peaks. I even looked at dear Neha haughtily when she chose a sports shoe. I was all, Neha, darling, what would make you opt for sports shoes when this store is a wondrous heaven of high heels?. She apparently wanted the sports shoes really bad, because mother and daughter asked for the way to the sketchers store and walked out. After I got my prutty prutty shoes, I gushed about them to the loved one over phone. He said he would never understand women. Considering men do the same thing over a fancy new phone, I guess both the the genders will never understand each other.

That was it really. A nice, short fun trip. Great experiences and sooper hot shoes, isn't this how life should always be?

STILL not a good time to be me but I try

The update on the fever and the continuous sneezing is that it has graduated into something I can't quite define except that my throat feels quite constricted and I sound like Marlon Brando in the Godfather. That would be such an awesome thing to have except that it isn't the best of voices to interview people with. I was half afraid that the candidate I was interviewing would ask me if we were going to the mattresses yet (haha Godfather movie joke. get?) My throat is still pretty fucked and I'm still sticking by my home remedies for some inane reason when I should be banging on my doctor's door. I don't want to have antibiotics. They make me so weak and wuzzy and give me terrible dreams

In a desperate bid I have given to mixing and matching my various home remedies. Clearly delirium has given way to delusion. I've already mixed herbal tea, milk, turmeric and black pepper to no effect. I'm addicted to a new cough syrup btw. Its an ayurvedic syrup with honey and a couple of herbs. Its so sweet and soothing that I have taken to glugging it like coca cola. It has no alcoholic content whatsoever so I don't feel woozy at work. Instead of chai breaks I have cough syrup breaks. I love it, so much so that I even made a cocktail out of it by adding vanilla vodka to it. It was HEAVENLY! It was possibly the best cocktail ever. It was sweet, had a certain kick to it at the back of throat and... its healthy.

Yes, I know, I should succumb to the antobiotics and stop the drama but honestly these pills scare the beejeesus out of me. I can't decipher the words on the back of the pills and when I don't know what I'm taking, it scares me. Its like sampling a new cuisine, what if the food doesn't agree with you?? Thats why I like my herbal cough syrup. It says - Effective relief from cough. No side effects. Simple enough. So anybody out there have any more home remedies for cold? I'm willing to try out anything before I finally succumb. I also think it would be extremely useful and fun to have list of home remedies. If anybody has any interesting home remedies for anything please put it in the comment section and I'll update it in the post later. Here goes my contribution:

Ze Ultimate Home Remedy List
1. Chicken soup: briliant for minor colds
2. Hot milk, turmeric & pepper: awesome for a sore throat
3. Vodka Martini: Brilliant for anything (wooohooo!)
4. Honey in Hot tea: Soothes a sore throat

Just wondering, if it isn't too crazy, should I try mixing hot milk, turmeric, pepper & vodka?

Soooo not the right time to be ME

Oh man! what a weekend! and what a culmination to that weekend - Sore throat, runny nose, fever (like those all hot, shaky hand type fever) and to top it all MAJOR WORK. I'm telling you its a conspiracy between top management and God. I always get down with a major illness when my work load is at the heaviest. Damn! major sneeze happened right now and the laptop will have to be disinfected I suppose :(

What a weekend, I said, because the parents were here and were all cute and adorable. That's why I don't live with them I suppose. When I do, we get on each other's nerves, when I don't, all the love can't stop gushing. But considering the state I'm in now, I wish ma were here to make me her EXCELLENT masala chai. Living on your own sucks because at times like this, when you are all hoarse and delirious, you STILL have to do all the chores. Can I wail here? I really want to wail and feel sorry for myself now. Even though I have fever now, I will not go to a doctor because in our family we never go to the doctor unless were are literally dying and gasping for breadth. I usually turn to ma for medication advise or just battle it out with Hot water, vicks, turmeric milk and vodka for ammo. You might not believe me, but vodka is EXCELLENT for a small cold. It is, it is, it REALLY is. Those Russians are onto something. I could try the Vodka now but in the state I'm in, I'll prolly puke it all out and feel silly.

Self medication is loads of fun when it works and crappy when it doesn't. I mean 2 weeks back, when I felt a sore throat coming on, I drank up loads of hot milk with turmeric and black pepper. It soo worked and I went around advertizing it as the ultimate cure. Even the cafeteria guy looked at me with reverence for my home remedy. I felt like a droog (in Clockwork Orange), albeit a weird, desi type of droog. Now I'm not so sure about the efficacy of milk. I really hate going to the doctor. It feels like such a chicken thing to do. The last time though, when my fever had reached delirium proportions, I went to the doctor, took my prescription and went out with out paying him. I realized two days later that I hadn't paid! The antibiotics suck too. Makes you all woozy, weak and waify (oh my god, I'm alliterating now?? )

ok, I'll give warm milk and masala chai one more shot, if the fever does not subside, off to the doctor I march and this time, I promise, I'll pay him

Where I wonder why I'm not punjabee

Whenever I see Hindi movies these days, this is the one thought that strikes me - Why am I not punjabee?? Clearly it seems to be the most fun ethnic group around. I see them on screen and wonder why my life isn't like theirs. Why there aren't as many weddings in my family as there seems to be in an average punjabee family. Hell they even have humongous families. What is that punjabees do? multiply like rabbits?? and how, I wonder, do these humongous families manage to sing and dance in perfect synchrony and celebrate the business of holy matrimony? It almost seems like they've all been trained in this matter. I see punjabee weddings and wish that weddings were an olympic sport. I look at them and sigh deeply that I will never see my sombre south Indian family going "shava shava" and I really want "shava shava" although I think its in everybody's interest that south indians not do "shava shava"

Another thing about punjabees is the well endowed-ness. The whole carefree- stress free-I'm-Karan Alhuwalia-I-don't-have-to-work thing. how is it that they never have to work? how is it that they never have worry about appraisals and review? why is it that they have rich daddies? These punjabee daddies are a confusing lot if you ask me. They send their daughters on europe trips (favourite haunt being switzerland) and allow them to spend obscene amounts of money and then act all funny and conservative and start arranging marriages. What sort of twisted logic is that?? although to be fair, most of these punjabee daddies are closet softies and will certainly do the trade mark about turn and agree to the daughter marrying her chosen punjabee, sweet talking, good dancer type, chikna lover.

So I'm thinking, why not me. I want daddy to send me on europe trip too and have a romance on eurail and miss my train and fall in love. I want to have the certainty of knowing that just because I'm punjabee, I'm guaranteed a saccharine life. I want to psuedo rebel against my parents and then sing and dance and make up with them. I want nephews who are called bunty and chintoo and who have little beanies on their head. I want the satisfaction of knowing that I'm guaranteed a life time time supply of butter chicken and sarson ka saag. I want to be assured of having the confidence to break into a ditty number in the middle mall and have everybody around me dance and telepathically know the song too. I want to know that I can shop at Christian Dior's outlet in St.Troprez because being punjabee means never having to worry about that little thing called money.

So clearly, as I have outlined, being punjabee is the ticket to good life and if any punjabee family, preferabbly one owning manufacturing facilities in Jalandhar and Hoshiarpur, wants to adopt, please pick MEEE!

To summarize, I need a stiff drink

Well the last couple of weekends were fine. It was spent in lovely drunken+ amazing conversation haze, so much so that I don't remember the exact details but just remember feeling nice and dopey. Oh also managed to see the latest Rajnikanth Starrer - Kuselan, which I definitely want to forget. VERY BADLY. So much so that, I hear its going to be the weapon of choice to torture people. Now, now don't get me wrong. I'm HUUUUUUUGE Rajni saar fan. I am. and Infact, I'll even say, "ALL HAIL RAJNIKANTH" (Ok that will attract a huge bunch of fervent I'll-worship-the-very-screen-he-appears-on rajni fans to my blog and if I am not kind in my words, they'll vandalize this blog and I'll lose all hope of that book deal but that's just the risk I must take, so bear with me y'all) but that doesn't take way the fact that I lost 3 hours of my life when I could have shopped!!

Why did I go you ask? Go?? I was bloody dragged there by two wily tam fans who said Dark Knight first and then at the ticket counter said "Kuselan". I believe there even was an impromptu jig by one of them tams but I was too shocked to notice these things (or I was slightly tipsy, was alternating between these 2 extremes, you see). The two tams also happened to be RV College seniors, so much nostalgia happened. Infact, you won't believe this, but at the Kuselan screening we even bumped to a classmate of mine at RV and he had even booked his tickets through the internet. The other 2 tams agreed that THAT was desperate but this dude was like a die hard fan so we respect that. We invited him to sit with us and so there we were, 4 RV college alumni, in poona watching a tamil movie. That is just soooo wrong. Which is why I desperately need women friends in this city

RVites are one of the smartest people I know and so the conversations are usually pretty sharp. We talk about world politics, about the olympics, about the darfur crisis, but when alumni gather, there is only one thing to talk about - RV. Where our current classmates are, what they are doing, basically a lottttt of "THAT bastard got into THAT B-school???" stuff. Then there also is talk about who all got married and that just depresses me. I dunno but just thinking of all those fellow 25 year olds running to the altar, gettin hitched and spoiling it for the rest of us (who have to defend our single existence for no reason) is maddening. I mean what's the tearing hurry??

Th other day, I bought a saree for mom which she outrightly rejected. I told ma that it was fine and that I'd use it to wear to the weddings of all my friends. Her face widened and I knew what was coming and I wanted to hit myself for being stoopid. "All your friends are getting married?? Really?? Shouldn't you too?" Why is marriage a necessary stamp of approval? isn't it about a personal choice to be with the person you love? and if that is so then why is it happening around a particular age? statistically speaking (and I can't believe I'm saying this!!) but this should be a fairly random distribution. I don't have anything against my fellow twenty-somethings getting married but it sure is fucking up things for the rest of us. I mean, I'm asked at work, when I plan to get married!! The other day, I was telling someone that I was goin to bangalore for a week and her immediate reaction was to ask if I was getting engaged!! Jeeeesus!!

I hate this slotting. I hate society sometimes for its oppressive and archaic thinking. So when ma was pleading with me to get married, I told her about this theory called the "Odyssey Years" and I BELIEVE in this theory. It appeared in the Op-ED of the New York times last year and it was written by David Brooks, in which he proposed that twenty somethings these days were going through an "Odyssey" phase where instead of following the traditional path of graduate-find job-marry, they were following a path of self-actualization. Where individual achievement takes precendence over starting a family as the big goal. Read the article here

I told mom about this. Spoke quite passionately about my Odyssey phase. She listened to me patiently and then she said, "What do Americans know huh?"

Let this be a lesson

so the upshot of things was that the Drunken revellery did happen. Over the weekend. And no it wasn't me that got drunk. It was a friend and the best part about dealing with drunken people is that its the best time to wean out secrets from them. And wean out secrets we did although i'm pretty sure that THAT friend will not want to socialize with us ever again and that would truly suck because he was the one with the car. So no more rides, no more late nights, no more random 2 am stops at streetside chaiwallahs, I guess for my sake I better be discreet now.

I'm a social drinker.Yeah ok, not quite a social drinker considering I have a whole bottle of malibu hidden in my closet. I dunno why but I hide things that I don't want to share with anybody in my closet. Just Like my mother actually hmmm. Anyway, so the malibu sits prettily next to my pile of special underwear (too much information??) and I have a swig of it (the malibu not the underwear) every other night. I like it with pineapple juice and that combination is heeavenly! but my drink of choice these days is the dirty martini. A martini makes me feel all grown up and mature. It makes me feel like a woman who has her life sorted and which is extremely sexy as opposed to what I am - a 25 year old who collects happy meal toys

I've never had a particular thing for alcohol tho. I mean it wasn't particularly glamorous because it was never denied to us as kids. My dad loved his beer with fish curry rice and we had a lot of those growing up. Infact my mom completely spoiled beer for me by telling me it was good for the knees!! imagine beer having medicinal properties! I'm glad that my parents were cool about alcohol as it meant that I was regarded as super cool in my school, as I was the only one among them to have tasted all the alcoholic drinks. But their coolness also meant that I could never store my alcohol at home. Infact when I stashed my breezers in our fridge, I would often find those consumed by my folks. Infact my mom even called me at work once and reminded me to get more breezers. Now you know why I moved to pune...

But I've had my drunken tryst with alcohol too. What I describe next doesn't make me look good, but if I wanted to feel good about myself, I'd watch splitsvilla. Anyhow, my drunken binge happened, unfortunately at an office party. The party was at Geofferies and since the alcohol was on the company all of us literally immersed ourselves in an alcohol frenzy. I had 8 tequila shots, 2 large whiskies, 1 glass of wine, 1 cosmopolitan, 2 shots of baileys and then I lost count. Then I also started slapping people around. One of the people I slapped happened to be a senior sales guy and he wasn't particularly pleased with my slapping him and so he poured his wine over head as he was drunk too, see? I don't think I consumed that...and then I passed out on the lawn. When they tried to take me home I started puking my guts out. Another dear friend (I won't say who, you know who you are) who was also drunk and who happened to be in the same cab as mine also started puking but unfortunately inside the cab. The cab driver actually refused to drive any further because of all the puking and demanded that he be paid a thousand bucks more inorder to pay for the cleaning. The onus of pacifying the driver came on the only guy who was not drunk and not puking and I bet at that time he seriously wished that he was one of us puking people.

The next day I felt sick to my stomach and spent the better part of the day in the loo. After that incident I did not drink for a year. Now, in fear of such an event ever ocurring I actually take in just one small drink and make it last the whole evening. Its for the greater good - no puking and no angry cab drivers to deal with

I Got Panda!

This is a tale of triumph. of inspiration. of overcoming great odds. This is a tale of how I FINALLY got the King-fu Panda Happy Meal toy at McDonalds.

Ok, ok, I realize as someone in my Mid-Twenties, I should not be associating myself with anything MacDonalds. Even remotely, as that would prove detrimental to my cool yuppie chick image and instead should be writing about alcohol, orgies and grass but seriously, I live in Pune, which has not quite recovered from that ill fated rave party (which people still talk about...I mean..C'mon...) so expectations about tales of drunken revelry need to be tempered a lil bit methinks. Also. Also, and this is hugely embarassing, I have a thing for collecting Happy Meal toys. Some ok. Not all *she says, rather defensively*

See, at first I was a huge closet admirer of Happy Meal toys. They were cute alright but I was too embarassed to ask the guy at the counter for fear of being judged. When MacD was rolling out Shrek Characters as Happy Meal toys I was greatly tempted but I resisted myself. Then epiphany happened by way of talking to kay my best gal friend. I told her about my secret craving for Happy Meal toys and found that kay had a whole bloody collection going! and when we were in school, kay was the first one among us to have a living, breathing boyfriend as opposed to some of us (I'm not saying who) who were still into fantasy boyfriends. This fact alone made her an icon in all our eyes and if she was collecting Happy Meal Toys, there is no SHAME in me collecting one too.

So from then on, I became a Happy Meal Nazi. I constantly harassed the MacD staff when they didn't have the "right" toy in stock. I mean they NEVER had shrek in stock. I got the donkey and other assorted characters but NEVER shrek. I personally love the look on their faces when I ask about toys - the "You need to grow up lady!" look, that said I was often perplexed about why I never got the toy of my choice. Are there so many friggin' kids in our country? Why are there so many friggin kids in the first place? Are people having so much sex that kids just happen? why? why? and why me?

When the Kung-Fu Panda toys came out, I again wasn't able to get the panda toy. I enquired in 4 different MacD and still no luck (I can't believe I admitted to that, I sound positively neurotic). Thats when I began to harbour notions that there was a special clique of slimy kids which was working specifically to thwart me in my attempts. Thats when I decided to change strategies. I asked a friend to get me a Happy Meal and to ask if they had the Panda and Guess what? they HAD it!!!. See, see, I told you there was a grand conspiracy.

Ok I sound neurotic but really its more enthusiasm and joy brought on by this coup. And get this, after my friend saw the Panda, he was like "duuuude I should have got one too!"

so moral of this story - Don't ever take me to MacDs and I badly need a drunken revellry jig clearly

Oh Bangalore! or Alternately - Why folks from RVCE will love this post

Sigh! what can I say, every time I visit Bangalore, I realise how much I miss home. This trip was especially nostalgic, considering I visited my alma mater - R V College of Engineering. I'll get to that later but first the really goody details of my trip. Well goody for me anyway!

First, this trip was unusually bountiful. I got a lot of gifts & serious bling from the loved one from his trip to bangkok and I must say that the man has really REALLY good taste! I got a fully ensembled black dress and by fully I mean it even came with a chic bracelet, bling-bling necklace and get this, a CLUTCH PURSE. The whole look was so classy and 50s chic that for a moment, a brief fleeting moment, I felt like Marlene Dietrich. sigh

Ok I'll stop but this trip had lots of good food too. That should interest you all. We went to a restaurant called Take 5 on 100ft road which is supposed to be a jazz restaurant. The ambience was very classy and very Manhattan type-y. The food was EXCELLENT. I mean, even as I write this, I long for their fish fingers in tartar sauce. mmmmmm. They even serve Belgium Beer, which was something I tried for the first time. Apparently belgium beer is "Alive" like all good wines. The beer menu had some good choices with good flavours. I mean never thought cinnamon would serve as an ingredient in a beer! But the big disappointment was the music. They call themselves a Jazz bar and they play U2. Sad that.

But really, do you know what I like about places like these? that these places are generally good conversation enablers. The music is not too loud, the food is amazing, the alcohol too is just right and if the company is good, it makes for stimulating & memorable conversations. Nag and Gowday, my two best buds from ice-tea days in college joined us for one such stimulating dinner. I like the fact that although we have graduated from ice-tea to alcohol, the conversations are just as stimulating, if not more. Oh I also found out that Gowday, by virtue of his job, could get me Rahul Bhattacharya's (Remember Pandits from Pakistan? my rave in my previous post?) number! Good now I know someone who knows someone who has written a book!

Now onto my trip to RV. I had to go there for some mark sheet related work. Found that the place has had a dramatic makeover! As visible from the grand entrance below -

But thankfully one thing hasn't changed drastically - the RVCE canteen. It's still the same hole-in-the-wall place next to the mech department.

Although inflation has caught up with these guys too. Check out the prices for the mini meal, puri-saagu and Idli -vada! a mini meal costs 14 bucks!! dude it was 10 in my time. lol

But inspite of the price rise, the humble mini meal has retained its ..er..essence. It still looks and tastes exactly like I remember it. Its even served by the same people! their expressions too are exactly how I remember them! I owe my engineering existence to this plate of marvel *giggle*

Did I say nothing in the canteen has changed? I'm sorry, something has. They have openly embraced corporate branding. As a marketer, I couldn't be more prouder of my alma mater. It positively warms the cockles of my heart.

But not all branding activity seems to have succeeded. The on campus Coffee Day has been shut down apparently. Sigh. RV Without Coffee Day? What will attract those poor outstation folks to the college then? It was our only plug! and our only salvation towards hipness. Alas!

RV sure was fun. It might not have been one of the best places to do engineering, but I'll vouch for this with every ounce of my being, it was the best place to meet people with character & personality!

Look Out World, She's got a book and she's not afraid to throw it

Damn Right!

Guess what? Yesterday I spent the whole day reading Amitav Ghosh's Calcutta Chromosome. Yes, Even at work (during break times ofcourse!) and then I ran back home as soon as could to finish it. I EVEN (and this makes me sad retrospectively) told the loved one "sorry baby, I'm reading a book, can I call you..er..tomorrow?". It was about 3 AM when I came to the last page and found that this book has the LAMEST, most Fuck-All ending of all times.

I HATE it when a book makes me feel stupid, more so when its absolutely absorbing in every page except the last. It literally made me go HUH? or rather a humongous HUH???

And the worse part is that I like Amitav Ghosh's previous works - Glass Palace, Hungry Tide, In Antique Lands etc. I can't understand why this one turned this way and I've spent the last two hours deciphering the ending on the net, but nobody seems to have a clue. What's even more frustrating is the glowing reviews. Like all of them literary types have understood exactly what the book was all about.

I did like the book tho but the ending just didn't make sense and I felt like calling the author up and asking for an explanation and ofcourse for my money to be returned. If anybody has read this book and more importantly has understood the ending. CALL MEEE

Lately, I've reading a lot of books with Fuck-All endings and its like, I've hit a lean patch equivalent of the literary world. There was Candace Bushnell's 4 blondes before this and that too had a lame ending. But the silver lining in all this is that I am Reading. That I am reading atleast one book a month like I resolved to. I'm glad I can still stay till 4 am reading books when I have work the next day when I know I'll all be bleary eyed, just like it used to be in college. Nothing makes me more happier than curling up with a good book and losing all track of time and space.

Inspite of my whinging today there have been loads of good books that I have read.

*Drumroll please, for the lady recommends.........*

1. Reluctant Fundamentalist - By Mohsin Hamid: sweet, short good read
2. Boys From Brazil - By Ira Levine: Gripping thriller, OMG ending. Loved It
3. Atonement - By Ewan McEvan: Well Written, absorbing. Felt good after reading it
4. Pundits From Pakistan - By Rahul Bhattacharya: My favourite read of the year. I'm not a sports fan but this guy made cricket absorbing for me. Wonderfully constructed sentences on cricket and life in Pakistan. I can't recommend it enough
5. The In-between world of Vikram Lall - By M G Vassanji: Another well written book on the life of 3 asian kids in post colonial Kenya. I'm a sucker for stories with strong political bacdrops so much so that more than a backdrop, it ends up being a strong character in the book.

I have 3 more books on the cards that come highly recommended - Manil Suri's Life of Shiva, Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy (OMG...Yeah I know...I've still not read it.. so shoot me ok?) and Orhan Pamuk's Snow. I hope I'll be able to finish these by the year.

What have you guys been reading? Any recommendations?

Comment Allez Vous?

Did I mention doom in the last post? Well things have already begun to happily unravel for me. Its time for my annual mid year crisis. I lost my debit card. Well I thought I lost it anyhow and I cancelled the card. And because Citibank sends a replacement card with such alacrity, I found myself consuming copious amounts of Vada Pavs at Joshi Vada Walle for lack of money for a proper dinner. This is the same joint that attracts Auto wallahs and skoda driving peoples in equal proportions and yes, that’s what I said to console myself in this state of temporary penury.

Things always go haywire for me around June time. Work starts getting hectic, I fall sick a zillion times – and what I hate the most – the combination of those two together. Ever since I’ve started working, I’ve noticed that my most demanding projects happen around June-July AND when I’m at my sickest. That’s life telling me – “Deal with it super girl”. This has happened to me every year for the past 3 years that I’m beginning to suspect a collusion between top management and God. It’s as regular as that 3:30 PM email from boss on Friday afternoons.

Well work has involved a lot of traveling too. It took me to Mahabaleshwar where I spent a rain soaked weekend in a resort that had no cell phone signal. The only place where there was signal was a solitary tree near the pool. Things got so desperate that I was seen juggling a laptop, a phone and a gigantic umbrella, sending emails amidst a downpour under that particular tree. I did that for 2 days and when I was checking out, the hotel manager asked me what I was trying to do exactly. When I told him that I was sending emails and that I’m the consummate worker bee and very dedicated to work and do not mind emailing under desperate conditions, he tells me that there was wi-fi in the lobby.
I wanted to KILL HIM!

Work has also taken to me to a lot of five star hotels and the best, most awesome things about these hotels is the most awesome complimentary breakfasts. I dunno whether it reflects on my upbringing, but I feel like an Ethiopian famine survivor at the sight of so much free food. And food that I my bleak, solitary life doesn’t ordinarily see in one place. All to tuck in as much as I ever want. Sigh. I want to die and go to heaven at this time. A heaven that consists of Bacon, pastries, apricot jams, grape fruit juice, scrambled eggs, potato wedges, pancakes and maple syrup…sigh

Work has also made a mini mafia don out of me. I find myself yelling and making bizarre sentences like “I need that consigment in my office even if you have to sacrifice your life for it” or even contemplating on the alcohol consumption of about a 100 middle aged men. Don’t ask. It’s a lot of stress and I end up getting pissed off quite often. I can literally feel the muscles in my forehead stretching.

And sometimes, because I get so stressed, I stress about being stressed and wonder if I’ll be part of the statistic that takes BP pills below the age of 30. As long as I have constant access to complimentary star-hotel breakfasts, I think Not!

God ...I thought you were on my side

I have to write, even thought its 2 am in the night. I have to write because this restlessness is killing me.

I always get this way when the season is about to change, actually when the year hits June because, I'm thinking to myself, dear lord its JUNE!!. June is like my time for a mid-year crisis. All of a sudden my birthday is looming, and although most people like the idea of their birth being celebrated, I don't because it terrifies me that I'm getting older. this time I'll be hitting the quarter-century and apparently as a girl in india, thats peak "shelf life". The last chance to get married after which, its all downhill apparently. Usually, I'd scoff at the mere thought of this, but now, I can't help but wonder if it indeed will be downhill.

I can't help but think of the last time I was deliriously happy. It was May 26th 1999, I remember the date very clearly because the 1999 world cup was goin on and India were playing Sri Lanka that day and licked them so royally that the lankans wished that the earth would open up and swallow them. That was not why I was deliriously happy though. My 10th boards results were out that day and I went to school to find out my results in trepidation and anxiety. To my utter joy I found that I had topped the school. I felt on top of the world. I felt like God's anointed child. I felt so high and the world was at my feet. I honestly have never felt this way again or may be I've grown and become more mature. Or so I would like to thing. But that thing that day made me want to love everybody, be a nice person and want to truly love the world because I was so happy.

I dunno if I'll ever get such a moment again but I really, truly want one. Every year I wait for a day where my life truly changes and moves on to another plane. A moment that transforms me for the good. last year it was the move to pune. I guess I did it solely because I wanted a major change. theres nothing as demoralizing as the slow grind of status quo.

May be I'm thinking too much, after all, a date change is nothing to get a panxiety attack over (panic & anxiety attack together) but thats the thing with me, I do think too much. I think in sentences. You know I mentally correct my thoughts if the grammar isn't right? and when I think, I usually concern myself with the worst possible scenario because thats the situation thats really tough to deal with right? and thus my agony.

I forsee nothing but doom at the end of this year.

More Notes From China Trip

I know, I know it's been a month since I came back and my visa to milk this story has run out but things have been quite hectic and I'm in Hyderabad (Oh the new airport totally rocks) and a colleague's T-shirt has inspired me to blog so there...phew! and Also, I made a lot of mental notes which I thought I'd share and besides which one of you smart asses has been to china eh? and by the way things are going, you might soon end up working for the commies and then you'll thank me for these interesting notes.

So, for the interest of future prosperity, here it is in bullet point format:

1. Actually, I'll sneak in some singapore vignettes too, coz you see the genius me managed to sneak in some stop over time at Singapore. See apparently they let you into the country if you have a valid "white" country visa like Australia, USA, UK you get the point right? This visa is free and its diff. from visa on arrival

2. Singapore is mighty expensive. Fie on people who shop in singapore. Laught at them and tell them about this friend you know who got awesome stuff in china for just Rs 500. No kidding, when i got out of the airport, I went to the Raffles City Mall (but naturally since we are such a mall rat) and I almost died to find T-shirts costing 80 sing dollars. Thats like 3000 bucks. eesh. And if anybody raves about Topshop and the likes, again, tell them about this great friend you know who got Prada rip offs for Rs 500 in China so its really no big deal. (thats me btw, if anybody was wondering who this friend was)

(as an aside, I've always wondered about these supposed "friends" when people reference them in to bring credibility to some incredulous claim. Who ARE these people? how did they make it into common floklore and why do not have names and more importantly why am I not in this clique, when clearly they are looked upon with awe and stifled envy)

3. California Roll is not really really Sushi as it does not contain any raw fish and Imagine, just before I found this out, I declared to my bemused host that I aboslutely lurved lurved LOVED Japanese food especially, the california roll. Sometimes I have an IQ of a tomato

4. In china now and it must be mentioned that the chinese (Yes we are making sweeping statements here and that's not politicaly correct but who am I to be politically correct about the commies) come off as rude and quite often you are not sure if they are yelling at you or trying to sell you something or both. Assume the latter. Coz rude is when they try to spit at you for quoting a far below price when bargaining. This happened to me at the Great Wall and I escaped unhurt and without spittle

5. Language is a HUGE problem and the only way to get around is to put on a "Stoopid Foreigner Face" (Yeah thats when an IQ of Tomato helps) . Although, sign language may not help you much. The chumps at singapore airport threw my contact lens solutions off and I had to roam around the streets of Beijing looking for contact lens solution. Fun it was not, as, to explain, what I needed, I pretty often had to pretend like I had a horrible eye disease and hence needed a solution. Get it? EYE SOLUTION? No? they didn't either and everywhere I went, they got out some ghastly looking herbs. Till finally someone told me to go to a spectacle shop

6. Languge is however not a barrier when you are shopping oddly enough. Who knew the potential of the humble calculator to unify two races. Especially between that which won't give a bargain and that which can't live without a bargain. I got that from russel peters and he's so bloody spot on. When you tell the vendors an outrageous price, they all go NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. If the calculator can diminish the language barrier, you have no idea what the mention of Gucci can do to you. Do not for heavens sakes yell out Gucci or Rolex, for you'll be swamped with vendors of fake goods and they'll pull you, assault you, pummel you till you buy it from them

7. Chinese are good at faking things. They can imitate the crap out of anything. I heard that they even had imitation Ferraris. They are soo good at faking, that one day they'll even fake your orgasm for you.

Ok I've been dying to put that out there for ages (hehehe)

8. The food is heavenly but why the Chopsticks??? and who thought that eating food with 2 sticks was a good idea and why did a billion people buy the idea? I say this not out of contempt but out of frustration. Lets say that I was not exactly adroit with the chopsticks and lot of good food slipped through the cracks. A LOT of food. Why can't they copy the good things about western civilization, like Spoon for example?

9. If you see a Bank of China gathering, prostitute yourself if need be and get inside somehow. For these guys dish out the whole deal. Opera and complete string orchestra at the Great Wall of china complete with champagne and stuff. I saw this and I really wanted to part of the chinese creme de la creme. Only briefly and my democratic, human rights self reared its pretty head again

10. Thats the things about China, it brings your nationality and culture into sharper focus. You don't feel like an individual but like some kind of ambassador dressed in dowdy tourist-y clothes. May be its because I'm a proud Indian and there's so much being bandied about the two countries. May be its because I live in a democratic society or may be its because they fucked us in 1965. May be its all of the above Or may be I really do have the IQ of a tomato