Crazy, si si

This blog needs a defibrillator...considering I have to resurrect it every few months. I feel sorry for my blog considering its closest to my heart....enough sentiment already!

The upshot of things are that they are crazy and hectic and fun ..all at once. I hardly get time to breathe during the week, so considering that I'm rather happy with the way this weekend turned out. Very productive study wise but also managed to sneak in some treats in the manner of reading 2 chapters of India after Gandhi (Best book ever, you HAVE to read it), 1 episode of project runway and 2 of my favourite music albums - The miseducation of lauryn hill and lovers rock...quite good don't you think?

I know there are many of you out there applying for B-schools this season and things can get quite anxious. There are many who might be questioning the feasibility of studying in a foreign B-school. I would like to tell you that there is nothing quite like studying in an alien environment. The diversity in schools here is ginormous and you sometimes won't believe the conversations you end up having. That aside, my only advise would be to figure out your goal in life and then assess if studying in a US B-school will help you achieve that.

Last weekend was quite fun. It was campout time, where all of us grad students camped out for 36 hours for Duke Basketball tickets. The beauty of campout is that you have to stay awake the whole time because you have to make to 22 check-ins during the course of those 36 hours. If you miss a check -in you're out of the race for season tickets. I made it through campout and its something I'm most proud about. I'm tough y'all!! apart from that it was brilliant fun...all night dancing and made dashes to the check-in point. I did get tickets so it was all worth while in the end

As usual I miss home. I can't help it. There are times I feel like calling my peeps and realize that there is a time difference..thats what I miss and I feel like I have to rebuild myself here. It feels odd, it feels awkward and a lot of work but sometimes it can be fun

Legal Alien

I feel sorry that I don't update this dead space called my blog often. I started out this blog because i love to write and this blog gave me my creative outlet. My only excuse is that life has been rather tumultous the last few months and was not condusive to blogging.

The upshot of things is that I now find myself in a US B-school. Yes, its hard to imagine that I'm finally here and not playing solitaire in my cubicle in Pune, although I must confess that I already yearn for my solitaire freedom and end of month pay checks.

Adapting to a new life in a new country is not easy though and every few minutes the same thought comes back to "This is NOT india". It feels odd to be indentified by only your Passport and to be told to value your I-20 dearly and you wonder how your life came to be attached to this otherwise mundane documentation. The flip side is that little things like going to the super market turn into a big adventure although, I do miss strutting around like I own the place in "my" country.

There are so many experiences that I want to encapsulate. Going back to school feels awesome. Waking up every morning, feeling like your life is on track is the best feeling ever and I wish I could capture every minute of this experience.

I have ofcourse made notes of my experiences so far here. So if you are an aspiring US Grad student, the following is worth noting:

1. Make sure you pick a good airline to come to this country because you don't want to take 72 hours to get here and if on the flight the food trolley hits your knee and makes you scream in agony, make sure you sue the airline or ask for complimentary return tickets to india, redeemable, preferably by 2015 (Yes, take what you can get)

2. Grad student life requires you to get accustomed to an impoverished lifestyle. The sooner you realize that you cannot afford Jimmy Choos or even $20 pizza, the better your transition

3. Get ready to carry your passport everywhere - to get a bank account, to get a phone connection, to buy a car, to buy wine and even to buy ciagarettes. Ofcourse this makes you paranoid about losing your passport (God Forbid!) and don't be surprised if this becomes your favourite recurring nightmare

4. If you live in a city where there is no transport system then buying a car becomes imperative. Yes you WILL miss autos in this country and even, dare I say it, the impugnity of auto drivers

5. Buying a car is not easy because of supply and demand issues. If you live in a university town teeming with grad students but with very cars around to buy, you will find yourself checking craigslist feverishly, desperately calling potential car owners and even praying to the entire pantheon of Hindu deties to get you that chosen car. You will leap at the mention of a Honda Civic that has done 100K+ miles and then feel your heart sink when its out of your budget. Yeah get used to that heart break and again Take what you can get

6. If you have never been to one, the best part of the settling in process is that first trip to walmart. Don't for the love of god fall in love with it. It goes against our impoverished ethos. You will walk down the aisles and want to buy everything in sight. Don't buy chocolate milk or hazelnut coffee creamer or peaches or super sized Tostitos or side tables or 32 pack diet coke or a printer/caner/copier or a mini safe that you dont need. Don't Walmart. Period

7. After settling in finally, a thought might occur to you to actually visit the School. It is a good thought and should have been number one on the agenda had you not had transportation issues. You will gawk at your surroundings and wonder how you made it here. You will wonder if you are an admission mistake and that thought won't leave even when you start classes. You will however make peace with how mediocre your own accomplishments are when compared to the rest of your class

8.As a grad student in the US, Facebook updates and photo uploading will assume a great siginificance in your life. You ofcourse have to drill home the fact that you are indeed a grad student in the US. Be sure to take that camera even to class because you never know when a facebook moment will come by. As student life involves tons of partying, make sure you know the night mode settings on your camera. You don't want to take a gazillion photos and realize that not one is Facebook-able

9. As a student you will do silly things enthusiastically (which is rather alarming) like taking part in a tricycle race for instance, with your entire batch egging you on. This act will be recorded for posterity thanks to Facebook Photos, after which you'll be able to answer the question "The Biggest mistake of my life" quite honestly

10. The best part of being a grad student is the diversity that you'll encounter. You'll bump into students from every conceivable country. Don't fall prey to country stereo types. Don't for the love of God tell a Jamaican that you "Absolutely, Love Love love LOVE LURVE" Bob Marley or an italian that you "Saw the Godfather a thousand times" There is a good chance he/she will never speak to you again

11. Your accent, grammar and intonation will change and you will punctuate every sentence with "Totally" "Absolutely" and "Awesomely"( which is not even a word..) and other such attempts at fitting in

12. You will need to get used to time difference with India. You will forget that Sunday Night 7PM for you is actually Monday Morning 5:30 AM for your folks. You will get yelled at and they will ofcourse threaten to stop transferring money to you

Sigh...there are so many experiences...will definitely come up with more updates on Grad Life 101.

The thing I miss most are my loved ones. I miss the fact that they are so far away and that they can't see me in my new setting. I miss my old life which had certainty and riotous colours about it. On somedays I feel like being back in that lovely chaos,under a sun that dazzled and teeming with wonderous possibilities. Then I open my eyes and know that I'm here....

Guilty!

(Let me cheat and post a poem I wrote in college...earned me a place on the editorial board in the first year!)

Guilty!
Yes , your honour, I killed her, I killed my wife,
Quite simple really, I used her own kitchen knife,
I find that funny don’t you?,
What’s the matter? I swear its all true.
You see that knife was a present, it was given to us,
At our wedding I think, or may be it was Christmas.
I suppose you’d all want to know why,
Hold on judge, methinks that woman there, could do with a good cry.
I Had had a bad day, you see I was fired,
And she refused to make tea,,I got angry,,, guess I was a wee tired,
Anyhow, “ make it yerself” she bellowed, “you can can’t you?”
She had to die judge,by god , The woman was cuckoo!,
I drove the knife through her heart, I’m sure she suffered no pain,
Why, look you all, I know what you think, you think I’m insane!
Kind of like officer Brady, he was aghast at what I had done,
He was eating doughnuts, he really should have offered me one!
Coming back to where I was, you ought not to let me me digress,
I cleaned all the blood and gore, for I detest making a mess,
I left her on the kitchen floor, I left her lyin’ there,
Made me tea ofcourse and drank it without a care,
I then walked to the station, I had no intention of getting away,
I was too weary to run, not after such a rough day!
I told the officer, I committed a crime, told him I killed her,
But he wouldn’t believe me, “you ‘fessin to murder?”
That’s all your honour, it was just a simple row,And if you have no further questions, I’d like to step down now

Do saal baad

I don't celebrate anniversaries in general. I do remember them but I'm generally very meh about such things. But in March this year, I completed 2 years in Pune and this made me reflect on the person that I'd become. I thought about the whimsical decision that I had made in March 2007, to move out of Bangalore - My Home, Cocoon and sanctuary - after 24 years to a place where I didn't know anyone. I went back to day I arrived in Pune for the first time. With my entire life contained 2 large bags, in a comfortable but alien company guesthouse house and contemplating the future. Would I like it Here? and what if this was a bad decision? what if I had to move back to Bangalore within a month with my tail and bag between my legs? I look back at that memory and think about all my experiences here and I'm happy I made that decision to live on my own. It has helped me grow in ways that I cannot begin to articulate. Suffice to say that the before and after is clearly distinguishable

I still remember the incident that made me take the radical step of moving out of Bangalore. it was the New York incident. I had just been duped by a NY cabbie of $160 for a 30 minute ride. I couldn't believe I was capable of being duped. I, who had topped Theory of Machines 2 in a class of 100 boys no less. I remember bawling on the streets of Manhattan afterwards in humiliation, anger and frustration. I remember roaming the streets with tears streaming down, fearful of everything and wondering how I'd gotten to be this wimp. After that I resolved to toughen up and get my edge back. When a job offer from Pune, I realized that this was it. This is what I needed to become a street smart, confident person and to grow from the over protected, insular, wimp that I'd become.

It was tough at first. I didn't understand the language or the culture. I remember sitting in meetings where all present spoke in Marathi and I, the one who was responsible for the action items, looked on like I was on the sets of Dumb and Dumber - with a very big EH? written on my face. I gradually learnt to understand the language and the people, to an extent now, where I actually feel quite at home here. I have learnt so much from this experience that I feel a need to articulate a few aspects that have changed in me.

It taught me to make friends. In Bangalore, I lived in my own little insular bubble, with my won little coterie of friends and we all lived happily. I didn't feel the need to connect with other people. When I came here, I had no choice but to connect and make friends fast. I learnt to reach out to people and open myself to them. I moved out of my intellectual circle and found other utterly interesting people who didn't read The Economist (Which in my earlier avataar was the prerequisite for any friendship with me). Thankfully My job in Pune required me to work with people at all levels - From the support staff in logistics to the top management. It required me to adapt to people at every level and I found myself loving every human interaction I was having. I can actually call myself an extrovert now. I appreciate people a lot more and I'm not an intellectual snob anymore and that's a good thing.

It taught me to fix things. Yes. I have become the champion fixer. I used to freak out earlier when appliances and stuff popped. Now, I have an air of nonchalance when things break down. I stop blaming the universe for this malfunction and get around to fixing things. The TV in our apartment conked recently and I would have FREAKED out earlier considering I'm the child of the networks. But I was so hum about the whole thing. I made a few calls. Found the TV repair guy. Carted the TV to him in a rickety auto. Got the thing fixed in 2 hours (attended gym in the interim) and carted it right back, to a point where the Roomate went "You Fixed it already?? wow!!". I'm so zen these days that I didn't even throw the remote on her face then for her sheer inability to be helpful around the house. My pre-2007 self would not have shunned violence. I'll tell you that. Violence brings me to my next point...

It has made me tough. I mean tough like a pit bull. Infact when I was negotiating with a vendor once, a business head asked me to join his sales group because he thought my aggressiveness would be useful in a sales role. All though I'm still not as street smart as I want to be I know that I'm not a wimp any more. I can fend for myself in any situation.

Most of all, this experience has helped me quell the fear of the unknown in me. I'm not afraid of chasing wild whims and fancies any more. I know I have it in me to face any situation that life puts me in and I may not come out obviously triumphant, in a blaze of glory but I do know that I will have the courage to face it. For that alone, Thank You Pune

A letter to my Hero

Dear Ma,


I have always wanted to chronicle my understanding of you. Its no exaggeration to say that you have always been my Hero, my role model. But I strongly feel that understanding you will help me understand me better. So yes its for a selfish reason, but you've always been very kind towards most of my faults, so here goes:


My most enduring memory of my early years, when I was 4 or 5, was hating you for working.

I hated you for having a job and not being there to drop me to school or pack me awesome lunches. You missed my sports days and gave me the same old bread sandwich. I hated You. I couldn't understand why your work was more important than me. I hated you simply because I missed you. There was a time, in the upper kindergarten, when during a test, the parents of all the kids were present and helping their wards answer the "test". I didn't have anyone to tell me what the 5 times table looked like and was miserable. I didn't hate dad for working but I was filled with anger towards you. I envied the other kids whose mothers were omnipresent for every goddamn school event.


Then, as I began making sense of the things around me, I realized that I was privileged in a way. I got the best bicycle, the best dresses, the best birthday parties and the realization that you working helped me get the best of everything. Especially when I got put into a really posh school in standard 6 for which you and dad had to cough up a pretty big donation. You both did that without thinking twice and I found myself in the company of rich kids, wondering how I got here. I remember appreciating, for the first time, the privileges that your job afforded me.


As I immersed myself in studies and realized that I loved school, I remember the seeds of ambition taking root in me. I wanted to become somebody. I wanted to do something. I wanted to utilize me and make a difference. I remember looking at you in a different light altogether. I saw you not as a mother or as a bread winner but as an achiever. As someone who was the first woman scientist in the country to be feted by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi and all this when you were in your twenties. I remember looking at your photographs, receiving subsequent awards from other prime ministers and feeling pride swell up in me. I remember you telling me about how you work with farmers to improve their crop yields to make India self sufficient. That's when I stopped looking at the other kids with envy and felt nothing but disdain when their Stay at Home Mothers (SAHM) came to collect report cards.You were a superstar in my eyes and I didn't care that you missed all my best student award ceremonies.


When I was in college and was angst ridden as everyone, I remember you asking me what I wanted to do in life. When I replied, in a moment that only be described as “random rebellion”, that I wanted to just stay at home and marry a rich man, I remember that quiet look of exasperation on your face. You didn't chastise me for it, instead you said that if that was what utilized my talents to the best then I should by all means stay at home. That's what you taught me - to utilize my talents. To do what I was born to do. When I asked you why you work and slog your butt off, you simply said it was because you loved what you did. That thought stayed with me through college and helped me choose a job that was off the beaten path. Having found my raison d'etre, I now realize why you emphasized on me utilizing my talents to the fullest. Its the best feeling in the world isn't it? when you love what you do?

But Ma, having been in the work force for 4 years now, I also have come to appreciate the trade-offs that you've had to do to balance work and family. You were not just a working professional you were a working mother and I know now that it's probably the most difficult job in the world. It must have been tough to reject promotions that might have warranted extensive travel in favour of spending more time with your Kids. You must have been wrecked with Mommy guilt for not attending some of my school events because of some work deadline. It's at this stage in my life that I fully comprehend how tough life is for women like us who want it all - The balance between the Job and the family. The compromises demanded by such a balance is what torments us everyday. I can't begin to imagine the comprises you have had to make but today as I look out into the future, I can't help but look at you in admiration for the manner in which you succeeded in raising us and in having a super-awesome career. I only hope that I have half the character and determination you possess.

What I love about you was how dedicated you are towards your career. How you clung on to it despite going through some tough times - Like raising two small kids by yourself when Dad was on transfer for 10 years. I now understand why you just refused to quit. You were one of the first generation of women in this country to enter the work force and the onus was on you to perform and break the glass ceiling for subsequent generations. I can't begin to imagine the gender bias you must have faced because I face it too at work at this age. I have colleagues who tell me that as a woman I don't have to worry about promotions because I have a husband who'll take care of me subsequently. Yes. I can imagine the taunts you must have faced. The hard work you must have put in to get half as much credit. The unfairness of it all. I now know why it hurts you when educated women in my times opt to sit at home. I feel proud of you when I go to work because I don't have to prove my worthiness everyday and that I'm evaluated on an equal footing along with the men.

At this stage in my life, I think I understand why you are so tough and yet so fragile. You have been tempered by the times. I love you for your strength. Only you could tell me to follow my heart and go to a US school in such times when everybody is advising against it. Only you could tell me to have an incredible two years and chase a dream. I also love you for being so tender. For being annoyed at me for not calling home often. For my lack of culinary skills. I love you and admire you and I only hope I develop half the strength and courage that you posses. I desperately want to make you proud and I sure as hell will try to.

Your adoring daughter,

A

what? its 2009 already??

..and I didn't get to transition properly thanks to getting ill a million times over and a heavy dose of work. The two always come together and I'm telling you its a collusion between God and top management. Its a CONSPIRACY, I tell you!

Well the illness was bad - Gastroenteritis and so had to be hospitalized for 6 days. Well I didn't want to write about it but I want to, because it's the ultimate nightmare scenario of anybody living on their own. I realized how important it is to have a designated ICE - In Case of Emergency- person. Mine happened to be V and thank god for that. V is more than an ICE, he is Man Friday. He will drink with you on a weekday when you are depressed and arrange for things if the need arises. Infact, when I was puking for the 300th time that day, I texted V, asking him to come with me to the hospital the next morning. He called right back and blasted me for even texting when I was not well and told me he was taking me to the hospital right then.

I puked all the way to the hospital and immediately after reaching, a whole host of nurses pounced on me and ran gazzilion tests on me. Hospitals always have a prophylactic effect on me. I stopped puking in the hospital and was wondering if I should perhaps make a dash for it. I was, even embarrased for a moment before nausea hit me like crazy and felt sick to my stomach (no pun intended). They suggested I get admitted because my blood pressure was really low and just like that needles were struck and intra-venous saline was started. In that moment of clarity, I asked V to take pictures of me in the hospital for facebook. Yes, you heard me. My thinking was that, if I had to suffer through reams and reams of St.Tropez/Venice/Carribean photos of various people, I had every right to subject everybody to hospital gore. I told V that I would update my status message with lurid details of my vomit and such. V agreed and started taking photos like mad. Me in my hospital smock, me in the wheel chair, me dying of nausea etc etc. The nurses actually thought I was mental and that I had come to the wrong hospital!

Well, after more theatrics later I got wheeled to my room and fell asleep. Till...the Loved One made a dramatic entrance at 4 am like a knight in shining armor. He cracked a joke about my surroundings and patted me to sleep. After that he totally took care of me. He took on my insurance company and got me upgraded to a better room with a TV and everything. He made me laugh when I was too nauseous to eat and even gave me forbidden pieces of garlic bread when I couldn't eat the hospital food anymore.But the TV in the room was the clincher. After 2 days in a TV-less room, my dramatic recovery began the moment I got to watch MTV Roadies. Just for that a big sloppy kiss to MTV Roadies, the bestest show ever on TV. I absolutely love how it panders to my basest instincts, with a good measure of shadenfraude thrown in. But coming back to the Loved One, I fell in love with him all over again because of the concern and sensitivity he showed. He even said I looked pretty in my hospital smock. I wanted to cry because I couldn't believe I had trained him so well (I'm so gonna get whacked for this, sorry baby!). He made me laugh so much that when it was time to leave the hospital, I accidently asked the nurse when I could "Check Out" as if we were in a hotel suite!

I got discharged in 6 days, after they ran every possible test they could and after pumping me with enough anitbiotics to last a lifetime. I lost my appetite and promised never to eat till the Loved One made his Daal. This daal was heaven. Infact after tasting it, heaven should now be called daal. It not only gave me my appetite back but I after that I pretty much wanted to eat everything in sight. Which was a strict no, no and so had to contend myself with eating home cooked, non spicy food.

I skipped work and went home to Bangalore a day later to get mollycoddled by the folks. My mother fed me like one would a starved somali child. Actually the whole illness made me lose 4 Kgs and I ended the year on the exact weight that I wanted to be at. I spent 8 months in the gym in the hope of achieving that feat and it took just 6 days in the hospital in the end.

I got pampered for 10 days and then came back to Pune for work and promptly fell ill again, this time - the Flu. Heavy workload promptly came in as well, causing me to get down on my knees and literally beg all the gazillion gods to to please spare me.

Well there, that was my account of the past 4 weeks not pretty by any means. 2008 was such a Yo-Yo year for me. Good things happened but bad things happened as well. It has made me more pessimistic than ever. But hey, atleast I didn't Facebook the whole hospital thing. I still have some decency left. Probably the only reason why I can never get on MTV Roadies. hmmmm

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!