only Love Is real

Ashes or Gold

2011-12-17T10:29:00.004+05:30

There is a fire inside
Why does it have to burn
the self and everything else?
Why can't it be the light
that gives courage to keep walking?
I don't understand
Why does it have to burn?

There is a fire inside
Why should it be angst
to rant through rhyme and song?
Why can't it be love
that warms countless chilled hearts?
I don't understand
Why should it be angst?

2011-10-31T23:21:00.003+05:30

Ever felt love welling up inside. So much love that you start feeling compassion for even people who say nasty things to you. I was telling motu the other day that how it is so easy to love a child. One can just shower love on them, adore them and they never find it out of place. They are so matter of fact about it. But the same is not true for adults. No matter what the expectation for reciprocation comes in. And of course, it is not possible to show affection unless the person allows it. And also there is this whole thing about living a lie. It is so difficult to figure out if one is dealing with a real person. People seem to be caught up in role play. Ever known what it feels not to be part of the drama.

Birthday present and something else

2011-08-12T17:57:00.004+05:30

They woke me up with cake in their hands and gleeful smiles on their faces. It took me a little time to come to senses and realise that my birthday had kicked in. I smiled back, cut the cake, and did not complain when some cake was smeared on my face. When we laid down in our beds to get back to sleep, one girl asked how was my birthday usually spent back home. I told her it is usually dinner with family and friends. Then I remembered and said, there is one more thing, it always rains on my birthday. When I woke up in the morning it was raining, just like it does in Mumbai. Not before my birthday and not since has it rained similarly here. Once the weather was worse but it did not rain the same. I went out to buy something and my trouser was drenched. At the most clothes become damp here in rain but never drenched.

I wanted to buy Totto-Chan for someone here. So I wrote to a book shop asking them if they had it in stock, and if not, would they order it for me. To my surprise I got a prompt reply, telling me they could, but it will take a couple of weeks, should they order it for me. I wrote back saying I don't have much time (no am not dying), I will be leaving the city by end of this month, so if it comes later it can be part of their collection. To my utter surprise again, the person wrote back saying they have ordered it and in case I can't pick it up they will stock it, cause just like I said they think it is a wonderful book and wished me luck for the future. In the world of updates, likes and being busy someone has actually communicated with me beyond the minimum needed.

Presents from the heavens and personal communication from a stranger. Chalo thodasa roomani ho jaye.

2011-08-11T12:17:00.001+05:30

"Having eyes, but not seeing beauty; having ears, but not hearing music; having
minds, but not perceiving truth; having hearts that are never moved and therefore never set on fire. These are the things to fear, said the headmaster."

--From 'Totto-chan: the little girl at the window' by Tetsuko Kuroyanagi

2011-08-10T23:56:00.004+05:30

Being busy seems to have become something like being in love. How actually being in love is more about being in love with the idea of being in love. Similarly, more than being actually busy people seem to be busy cause they think they are busy.

Hope that was not confusing.

2011-08-03T12:41:00.003+05:30

Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind
Is this how each life begins
With the promise of new, unknown
To be broken each moment
When life is more than mere existence
A tiny speck of remembrance
Wonders if all this has been before
Eternal sunshine of a spotless mind
The speck, it grows

2011-07-24T13:35:00.003+05:30

It is ironical, what we call fiction is so real whether it is literature or cinema. The real as we know it is made so contrive, the real ends up being a farce. I happened to watch the movie 'P.S. I love you' day before yesterday. Chickflick is it? Anyway today morning the girl from the movie popped into my head. And I thought, this movie is nothing but an example of how by constantly living in fear we make our worst fears come true. Here is a woman living in fear of being left alone by the man in her life. Because she has seen her father leave her mother alone with two children to take care of. She cannot bring herself to have a child and there are several excuses set up as a boundary around her decision. Eventually her worst fear, of losing the man, is manifested and in such a fatalistic way. We are so afraid to live our life fully always afraid of something or the other. The funny thing is always standing at the periphery, never taking the plunge into the river of life, bound by our fears, yet we think we are qualified to tell others what to do with their lives. Let go.

give me some sunshine, give me some rain, give me another time, I wanna...

2011-07-23T13:22:00.005+05:30

Put your guard down and bang they zero in on you. I didn't see it coming, settling in and then playing havoc with my system. i am talking of expectations, other peoples, that are conveniently passed on to you as something that belongs to you. Before i left Mumbai for my brief sojourn abroad every damn person, even the ones that don't bother to be social otherwise there is something in it for them had an advice for me. And the advice was, find yourself a guy there! Now, before some conclusions are made, let me clarify, finding a guy or to say it more appropriately to have a partner is definitely on the agenda. But it can't be 'the plan' not for me. Important things happen in life, they do, it is the mundane that needs planning. And to find a partner is not mundane. So here I was giving myself a hard time since last two days for being myself. For not going out there and finding a guy :). For being a disappointment, to others. And it did not help that it was raining here, it actually only drizzles. But when it does it becomes very cold and there is always breeze flowing (does breeze flow?) making you stay in to be warm. Two days of no sunshine and seeing hot guys (Oh the policemen here. and they dress in black. This is how men in black should look) I think took a toll on me. Actually it all began when I started reading this book which I have to analyse for my socio term paper. The disappointment I felt with the book got channelised to me without me even realising. I was like what's happening. Everything was fine until the last time I was out in sunshine and looking at hot policemen. And fortunately, all those unfulfilled expectations, of others, toppled out. They got washed down by the rain.

To the world,

I love you, yes, but I can love you only when I love myself for who I am and not for who you want me to be. I disappoint you, I make you proud, I fulfill your ambitions or I don't, I fit in or not, well I don't care. This is me and this is what is.

Love
FM

Walter said it

2011-04-03T21:05:00.007+05:30

Watched Band Baaja Baraat again today. This time on TV. Enjoyed it just like the first time. Some movies just get the ensemble that goes into making a movie right. It couldn't have revolved around a more loved topic than what else but weddings. Somehow for a long time I have been eluding The Wise One. My elusion wasn't to last for long. Recently I happened to attend a get-together with my ex-colleagues from my first job. Towards the end I was sitting by myself and enjoying the ice-cream when my state of solitary bliss was interrupted by a friends' husband. He asked me if I got married or if am still single. I told him I am (still) single. To which he asked, "No boyfriend" (neither). I told him I am single in every sense. Friends' husband, "Arey get settled yaar. Celebrate karne ka mauka do." I couldn't help laughing and said, "Settled toh already hoon, par celebrate karne ka mauka bhi doongi. Don't worry." At my reassurance I was allowed to go back to the ice-cream induced blissful state. It's funny how being settled is associated with marriage. Why the assumption that if one is not married one is unsettled. I look around and see scores of unsettled married people. What about them? Its like every person is an amorous nomad, who at some point has to be tied down to some person and bingo! the person is settled. I have never been able to buy into this meaning of 'settled'.

I see it the way the character Walter sees it in the movie 'Sleepless in Seattle'. When finally Annie tells him that she couldn't possibly marry him, he says, "I don't want to be someone that you or anybody else settles for. Marriage is hard enough without such low expectations. Isn't it?" Followed by a very cliched retort by Annie, "Walter, I don't deserve you". Once again Walter gets to rise above the caricatured portrayal of his character in the movie by saying, "No, I wouldn't put it that way." For me Walter ended up being the protagonist in the movie. Yes, the lead characters meet and may be all the talk of destiny and such may come true for them or not, a movie doesn't allow one to know the entire story. One is to make assumptions based on how a movie ends. Whatever the course of stories for a Walter it will always end on a truer note.

2011-03-29T21:14:00.005+05:30

The other day there was a report in one of the news papers that children (up to six years of age) these days greet each other with a kiss on the lips. An educational institute has decided to take this up as a serious issue . I will come to the school later, before that, the headline was quite interesting for its intended sensationalism. It uses the phrase 'locking lips' to describe the act of affection between these children. Parents and any adult (sensible of course) who happen to see children of kindergarten age on a regular basis must have at some point seen a child greet another by kissing on the lips. Who in their wildest imagination can describe it as 'locking lips'?

The school in question plans to do a workshop with parents to teach them how to alter this behavioural pattern in children. Not surprising that they find it questionable as one teacher put it as "an unusual adult-like behaviour". To alter this behaviour pattern they will be sitting down 4 & 5 year olds and somehow without alarming them explain to them why their behaviour is inappropriate. It will be interesting to see how this will be done without explaining the adult perspective to the children. What the children are displaying is not adult-like behaviour but child-like behaviour which is uninhibited by adult perverseness. It never ceases to amaze me how adults who were once children seem to lose the ability to look at and understand things from a child's perspective. It is not the children but the adult (teachers, parents, educators) perception that needs to change.

It reminds me of possibility of shameful punishment that teachers in my school used to threaten us with. To make us maintain discipline in the class they would give us a warning that if anyone was found talking, in case of a girl she would be made to sit between 2 boys and vice versa in case of a boy. I could never understand what was the big deal in sitting with boys. We studied and played together. What was the harm in sitting together? That was then. Educators now have to realise that children are changing. Children of now start making eye contact, indentifying/recognising people and generally taking in the world around them moments after they are born. They are smarter, mature and evolved much more than expected at their age. They are manifestation of evolution in human consciousness. Who knows, this workshop might just about turn out to be a learning experience for the educators in child-like behaviour.

Midnight's whatever

2011-01-01T10:33:00.003+05:30

An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves. --Bill Vaughan

The pragmatist gets a good night's sleep and wakes up the next morning, the first day of the new year, fresh and happy. --Yours Truly

Grab your towel we are getting hitched

2010-12-05T18:52:00.004+05:30

You got to recognise serendipity when it comes knocking. My friend did and now she is getting hitched. Yesterday she was telling us about her chance meeting with this guy. The sort of weird connection people make, when your antennas start resonating with another pair of antennas and for your life you can't figure out why. Something like that happened with my friend. Before she embarks on the intergalactic trip called marriage, though she has not asked for any advice, I will still say 'DON'T PANIC', Serendipity is here to stay.

You know it's love when...

2010-11-13T21:02:00.004+05:30

Your friend who made you pillion ride from Mulund to Malad, Mulund to town and where not, says to you that he took a train today. You ask him why he did not take the bike and he says it would have been uncomfortable for her, the distance was too long. I point to him that he never thought of the discomfort when I had to ride with him. (I had to always argue with him to take a cab or train) He says the roads have become bad. I say yes of course, the roads went bad like two-three days back. They were smooth as halwa all this time. To which he sheepishly says, now you will take my case.

anjaane hi tere naino ne vaade kiye kayi saare hain

What do you hide?

2010-11-01T21:40:00.003+05:30

I have been observing all these people with whom I spend so much time. Could they be hiding too, just like so much of me is hidden from them. New people, surface relations, none of them that will last long. I can't say too much when a judgement is made about me, lest too much of me is revealed. You learn to just let it be. It is not possible to be all of you with everybody. That is why time alone is so much important.

2010-09-16T12:41:00.003+05:30

Sometime back, I read a very simple paraphrase of Buddha's view/thought on his enlightenment. One of the 4 things he says he achieved freedom from is opinionated views. When I read it, it made sense. However, just because something made sense does not mean it is easy to incorporate. It is difficult, very very difficult. That is the paradox of existence, you might know one thing, but end up doing another. And only you can change that, to make the paradox cease.

What I want

2010-09-07T22:14:00.002+05:30

I have been visiting my past a lot these days. All that has been left unsaid is brimming and wanting to come out. Only I am not finding an outlet. I so want to talk, but there is nobody to talk to. Don't get me wrong I am not isolated, I have siblings and friends I could talk to. But I don't want to talk to anybody I know. I don't want to be judged or advised. I am not unhappy or looking for any answers. All I want is to unburden. To talk to a stranger, to be able to cry or laugh uninhibited without intrusion.

2010-07-17T11:48:00.001+05:30

Women who can ...

2010-07-14T18:39:00.004+05:30

In the movie, 'Alex and Emma', Emma says to Alex.

"Like when its time for the first laundry. I know, I know. In great romantic novels there is no laundry or there's people like Ylva or Elsa to do it. Maybe that's why I like them. They can wash their own clothes."

Why do long buried things surface to the conscious mind when what it (the mind) should be doing is deliberating on the assignment?

Weirder things happen. Emma and her words popping up out of the blue is still close to normal.

Poga Sleep

2010-06-18T20:49:00.007+05:30

During one of the philosophy classes I dozed off for the entire 2 hours. Nothing new that I dozed off I do that in most of the classes (never for the entire duration though). But what was a new experience for me was that after the class I actually knew what was discussed in the class. Another day, another lecture I was wide awake and trying to make sense of what was the discussion all about, but for all the sense I could make the Prof. could have been speaking in Hebrew. By the middle of the lecture I was so frustrated I wanted to jump out of the window, but the thought of a midair collision with Basanti, the Bitch kept me rooted in my seat. You see Basanti has this habit of jumping in from the window, walking over to the next row and making herself comfortable next to the wall. Though she was more into sociology than philosophy and as far as I remember always jumped in in the beginning of the lecture and left after it got over, I still did not want to take a chance.

What was I saying before Basanti interrupted me. Oh yes, about dozing in the class yet making sense of it afterwards. I got to resolve the mystery today. A couple of days back I did a Yoga Nidra session at home and felt quite refreshed. Impressed I thought I should first read the book and understand how it works. This is what it revealed, I haven't finished reading the book yet. Yoga Nidra is a state of hypnagogic sleep. The state between being awake and falling asleep and it seems it is the best state to input data into the mind. It gets stored and you remember it. I won't get too technical here, it is just that the mind becomes more receptive in this stage. As you relax in Yogic Nidra but at the same time try to stay awake, you tend to maintain a relaxed state of awareness. So I was in hypnagogic state in the lecture that day, I was sleepy but I was making efforts not to sleep, so I was both asleep and awake and no wonder I could remember what went on in the lecture. In fact these days I seem to be making more sense of texts that I read in half awake state.

Hope not too many ambitious parents get an inkling of this. BSY might have to stop all their other activities and start mass production of the Yoga Nidra CDs. No but seriously, to all those overworked, sleep deprived, tired people, this is wonderful. I did a session again today and I have a feeling I might turn nocturnal tonight. I sure do plan to incorporate it into my daily schedule.

Green is love

2010-06-16T19:22:00.003+05:30

It is that time of the year that my socks wearing friends hate. It is monsoon and it is raining. Yippieeeeeeeeeeeeee. Looks like it is going to be a good year, we will have lots of rain. I am already in 'I love the world no matter what' mood. Ya the monsoon does that to me. Everything around is so green and fresh. And there is promise of sustainable green in my wallet too. Bye-bye poverty. I just remembered, my umbrella is green too. Before the socks-wearing people go green in ____, I will move on to other pastures. Damn! pastures are green too, aren't they.

Meaning lies in the minds of the readers

2010-06-06T20:00:00.004+05:30

We were discussing how socialisation can be done through education in the class and our professor shared this account with us. It seems a lesson was introduced in some class text book in Kerala. The lesson went something like this. A child is taken to school by his parents for an interview. The principal asks the child his name. Then asks for the father's name, which happens to be a muslim name. Then for the mother's name, which happens to be a hindu name. Then he asks what religion should he put in the form for the child and the parents reply, no religion. The lesson ends here.

When someone like me reads this lesson, I think wow! that's liberal. Isn't it nice that children are provided the impetus to think, to create broad minds. But it seems that is not what the people in Kerala thought. The religious, especially the catholic community was in uproar. They saw this lesson as the Left's attempt at promoting atheism through education. Finally, owing to much opposition this lesson had to be removed from the curriculum. To none of us in the class it occurred that there might be any hidden agenda behind incorporating this lesson in the curriculum until, the Prof. mentioned the uproar it caused. She added that it could be a case of broad mindedness on the part of the curriculum developers in Kerala or it could be that the politicians better understand the power of education to socialise children to certain ideas or philosophies than the educators do.

That brought me to religion and the concepts surrounding it. Once I was chatting with a friend and we were discussing an a particular article which had to do with some religion. Since I don't bother with any religious identity, my friend asked me if I was an atheist. I said I am not. Why does one have to accept a religion to be a believer? Why can't one reject religion and still be a believer? But I guess it is important for most to subscribe to some form of 'ism'. To develop individual identity is to tread on dangerous grounds. It is safe to be part of a group, in this case believer or non-believer. For majority there seems to be no scope for a middle ground.

Old Chaddi Saying

2010-05-08T11:56:00.001+05:30

Kathy is smarter than all the Chaddi's put together.

From one of my Favourite Authors

2009-09-02T13:57:00.000+05:30

Humans think they are smarter than dolphins because we build cars and buildings and start wars etc., and all that dolphins do is swim in the water, eat fish and play around. Dolphins believe that they are smarter for exactly the same reasons.

-Douglas Adams, writer, dramatist, and musician

Supply follows Demand

2009-08-13T11:40:00.002+05:30

The other day Manju Bhabhi and I were discussing her numerous names (she is a prophet in disguise as mental inside). She remarked with a mild indignation (level one on a scale of 1 to 10) that one of her other frequently used name came from a soft porn star in USK. I asked, how come people who make porn are not respectable, but people who watch it are? The world is filled with such illogical moralities.

A poem I read today, brought forth these thoughts. The poem touches upon the age-old gender equation. The man-woman game though not my expertise, I found the poem raises some appropriate questions.

You Men

by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz (1651 - 1695 / San Miguel
Nepantla / Mexico)

Silly, you men-so very adept
at wrongly faulting womankind,
not seeing you're alone to blame
for faults you plant in woman's mind.

After you've won by urgent plea
the right to tarnish her good name,
you still expect her to behave--
you, that coaxed her into shame.

You batter her resistance down
and then, all righteousness, proclaim
that feminine frivolity,
not your persistence, is to blame.

When it comes to bravely posturing,
your witlessness must take the prize:
you're the child that makes a bogeyman,
and then recoils in fear and cries.

Presumptuous beyond belief,
you'd have the woman you pursue
be Thais when you're courting her,
Lucretia once she falls to you.

For plain default of common sense,
could any action be so queer
as oneself to cloud the mirror,
then complain that it's not clear?

Whether you're favored or disdained,
nothing can leave you satisfied.
You whimper if you're turned away,
you sneer if you've been gratified.

With you, no woman can hope to score;
whichever way, she's bound to lose;
spurning you, she's ungrateful--
succumbing, you call her lewd.

Your folly is always the same:
you apply a single rule
to the one you accuse of looseness
and the one you brand as cruel.

What happy mean could there be
for the woman who catches your eye,
if, unresponsive, she offends,
yet whose complaisance you decry?

Still, whether it's torment or anger--
and both ways you've yourselves to blame--
God bless the woman who won't have you,
no matter how loud you complain.

It's your persistent entreaties
that change her from timid to bold.
Having made her thereby naughty,
you would have her good as gold.

So where does the greater guilt lie
for a passion that should not be:
with the man who pleads out of baseness
or the woman debased by his plea?

Or which is more to be blamed--
though both will have cause for chagrin:
the woman who sins for money
or the man who pays money to sin?

So why are you men all so stunned
at the thought you're all guilty alike?
Either like them for what you've made them
or make of them what you can like.

If you'd give up pursuing them,
you'd discover, without a doubt,
you've a stronger case to make
against those who seek you out.

I well know what powerful arms
you wield in pressing for evil:
your arrogance is allied
with the world, the flesh, and the devil!

Vote for Flying Machine

2009-07-09T12:03:00.003+05:30

The news channels are at it again. The day it rains a bit, they are out covering the water logged areas from morning to evening and reporting how it is not sensible to venture out of the house. Last Saturday Rascal happened to travel by bus from Colaba to Mulund and saw few TV channels stationed at Parel to give live report of the flooding. According to Rascal's aankhon dekha haal, there was no water on his side, traffic was moving smoothly, there was some water on the other side and he thinks the traffic jam must have been created by the vans stationed by them channels. I said, at least there was real rain water, over time they might bring their own tankers in the stealth of the night to flood some localities and create some news.

Now Parel and its step sister lower Parel are so low-lying, that if each resident of those chawl buildings lining the road decide to throw half a bucket of water on the road at the same time, they are sure to flood the road even in summer. As for warning the Mumbaikars, does anybody pay heed to the news. To let in a secret, we wait for the opportunity to walk home from Churchgate to Virar or VT to Thane or any place in between every monsoon. We need our yearly dose of adrenaline to take us through the drudgery of the rest of the year. This year we even have the Bandra-Worli sea-link to walk on: toll-free. The news channels are out to spoil it for us. If I had the power I would allow only 2 news channels and ration the news hour to only two hours per day, i.e, 4 half an hour slots. For entertainment we can all go back to watching Tom & Jerry.

2009-06-19T13:54:00.000+05:30

If people in teens could have their way, they would declare the 30+ fossils.

From Zen

2009-06-15T14:34:00.001+05:30

This pain is not to make you sad, remember. That's where people go on missing... This pain is just to make you more alert--because people become alert only when the arrow goes deep into their heart and wounds them. Otherwise they don't become alert. When life is easy, comfortable, convenient, who cares? Who bothers to become alert? When a friend dies, there is a possibility. When your woman leaves you alone--those dark nights, you are lonely. You have loved that woman so much and you have staked all, and then suddenly one day she is gone. Crying in your loneliness, those are the occasions when, if you use them, you can become aware. The arrow is hurting: it can be used. The pain is not to make you miserable, the pain is to make you more aware! And when you are aware, misery disappears.

- Osho

2009-06-10T16:31:00.002+05:30

So you are waiting for Mr. Right to come riding on a white horse and take you away? stated the wise one.

Said I, Oh! so that was Mr. Right who had come on the horse and was talking some gibberish about sweeping me off my feet and taking me to some far away land. Well I reported him to PETA. What was he thinking riding the poor horse on the busy roads of Mumbai.

The wise one gave me a pitying look.

2009-05-29T12:36:00.001+05:30

If I marry a black, white, yellow or any other coloured man except brown of course, will the offsprings from such an union be known as multicoloured?

2009-05-22T17:41:00.001+05:30

What if this is as good as it gets!

2009-05-14T09:52:00.003+05:30

A person can not get by in life without two things, spouse and hair-dye, says the wise one.

Copy Quotes

2009-03-02T12:17:00.005+05:30

Today, while trying to make some repetitive write ups interesting, I unearthed the following quotes.

“Few people can be happy unless they hate some other person, nation, or creed”
-Bertrand Russell

Love the fascist just like you love your neighbour. ;)

“The fact is, you have fallen lately, Cecily, into a bad habit of thinking for yourself. You should give it up. It is not quite womanly... men don't like it.”
-Oscar Wilde

Not man, convention is thy greatest enemy woman, convention.

"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much."
-Mother Teresa

The recession is hitting me hard :D

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
-Neil Gaiman

Brilliant! I don't agree with the last sentence though.

When things fall in place

2009-02-18T13:05:00.019+05:30

I don't remember at which station we boarded the train. It was Amravati-Mumbai Express. When we got in it was crowded with the short distance travellers and we had to fight for our seats. We were six; lawyer, her mother (to be referred to as aunty), 17, 18, Doc and I. The rest of the group was split into two other compartments.

At the next station an old pervert who had the lower berth ticket in our row got in. He insisted on sitting next to the window. So doc and I had to shift to make place for him. Next while putting his bags under the seats his hand touched my thigh, though I was sitting quite far from him. I let it go thinking it must have happened accidently. The second time I lost it and confronted him. He said, he had asked me to move before he placed his bags under the seat. He even verified his claim with the family of four sitting opposite us. They said, they did not hear him say anything. This obviously didn't go down well with me and I called him an idiot. To which the man took offence. The hilarious part is, at this point Doc intervened and told the man I wasn't calling him an idiot. I wanted to ask her then who according to her was my ire directed at. Doc and I had 17 & 18 to take care of, so I did not get to my flying in the air and kicking stage.

In the meantime, GG our camp coordinator came and suggested that 17 & 18 could move to the next compartment and two of the guys from there could join us here. As is bound with rich, pampered kids (girls in this case), 17 & 18 wanted to check out the other compartment before they would decide to move. And as is bound with fearless, Ninja women, doc and I accompanied them to check out the other compartment. Doc in the front making way and I in the back making sure the girls were safe between us(do I need to mention the fearless, Ninja women).

Once we reached the other compartment, the girls decided they didn't want to move after all. We did an about turn, this time me paving the way and doc watching our backs. Holy cow! if the train was crowded before now it was overflowing with people. Apparently while we were on our mission, the train had stopped at some station and unchecked herds of people had got in. Somehow we managed to cross into our compartment and reach our seats only to find them occupied with more people. A sick man was sitting at the edge of one of the seats and his family - wife, mother and three men were standing. We had to fight with a woman occupying our side seat to get her off and make the sick man sit comfortably. There was 17, 18 and the sick man on the side seat. Doc, I, the little boy from the family of four and the idiot on one of the inside seats. On the opposite seat, lawyer, aunty and the rest of the family of four.

We realised that 17 & 18 would not be able to handle sitting on the side seat with the ever increasing crowd. So we exchanged seats with them. A fat man got in and seeing the one cm spare space next to me, tried to fit into it, but only managed to sit on my lap. I gave him a what's happening look, to which he asked me to shift a little. He was so fat, to accommodate him doc and I would have to get up and he would still be resting part of him on the sick man. Doc told him we wanted to have dinner so could not make space for him. Dinner finished, the man again asked me to move and make space for him. He had to get down at Jalgaon so he would sit only for 10 minutes. Now why in this world can a man not stand for 10 minutes! This time I gave him a speech. I asked him if we were women from his house, would he have liked us sitting crammed between two strange men. The man looked visibly embarrassed and even helped us put our bags back on the upper berth.

At Jalgaon some people got down and we got some space to breath. The 3 men with the sick man went to find a TC to get their tickets confirmed. After somewhile they came back with no success and requested me to somehow accommodate the sick man, his wife and mother and they went to the general compartment. They were going to Wockhardt, Kalyan to get the sick man operated. It was time to figure out the sleeping arrangement. Nine berths (it was the new train with 3 berths on the side) and 14 people. Idiot had his lower berth, the opposite lower berth was confirmed by the TC for the family of four, nobody had come for the middle berth above them (which we realised later). The 2 upper berths, 1 middle berth above the idiot and the 3 berths on the side were ours.

We asked the sick man's mother to find a place for him to sleep. Poor soul went up and down the compartment but every square inch of floor space was taken. Doc and I decided to give him one of our berths to sleep and we would share a berth. 17 & 18 chipped in, they wanted us to sleep comfortably as we had office the next day and they would share the upper berth as they were going to sit and talk anyway. After little urging we agreed to their plan. We asked the family of four to use the unclaimed middle berth. So there we were, the girls on one upper berth, Lawyer on the other, 2 members of the family of four in the middle berth and the other two on the lower, sick man in the opposite middle berth and idiot on the lower. Aunty on the side lower berth, doc in the middle and me on the upper berth. Sick man's wife slept between the seats and his mother in the aisle. Everything in place.

2009-02-10T12:02:00.001+05:30

Everything that a man takes for granted and a woman has to fight for, she is called AGGRESSIVE.

2009-01-19T17:49:00.002+05:30

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE CHAPTERS
Portia Nelson

1) I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost...
I am hopeless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in...it's a habit
My eyes are open; I know where I am;
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5) I walk down another street.

:) Found it here http://buddhism.kalachakranet.org/resources/poetry.html

Full Circle

2009-01-06T17:26:00.007+05:30

It all started in December of 2005. I was at Bangalore airport with Ganju. We were standing in a queue, and both at the same time happened to notice a handsome young man a little ahead of us. Immediately after seeing him for some bizarre reason I am still clueless about, I looked down at my feet. Lo and behold! there I was staring at Viyer's blue bathroom slippers adorning my feet. I tried to remember how I ended up in those slippers instead of my floaters. Surprise turned to ruefulness and I felt a little bad for Viyer, imagine having to wear floaters to the toilet every single visit. I called and spoke to her; she was kind enough to let the slippers travel to Mumbai and also assured she will return my floaters when in Mumbai. While all this was happening Ganju continued to ogle at the handsome guy.

Since then such lapses have been occuring much to my inconvenience and my friends' entertainment. My friends still warn Viyer to guard her footwear when I am around. Last year I forgot to call almost everybody I know on their birthday, and considering the number of times I asked Rascal, 'Holi kab hai?', he was convinced that Gabbar's spirit had possessed me. Some times I even forget to carry my laptop or mobile to the office. As I take the laptop home only occasionaly I used to reason that that's why I seem to forget to take it back. But yesterday's incident takes the cake. I forgot to carry both my laptop and phone to the office and had to go back home to get them. Never appreciated having my office close to the house so much. Here's the icing on the cake. In the evening, yes I forgot something again, this time to wear my sandals, and left the office wearing slippers. Looks like I have come a full circle.

Now what could be the reason for these memory lapses? My preoccupation with the numerous bubbles in my head or is it that the fat accumulated around my midriff is slowing down my brain?

2008-12-04T12:51:00.000+05:30

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

-John Lennon

I could have been there

2008-11-30T14:58:00.001+05:30

An acquaintance from Delhi was in Mumbai on the 26th and I was to go to VT to meet him. I had an uncomfortable feeling in the evening and told the person I won’t be coming as it will get quite late and we made plans to meet next day. From work I went home instead and in the night got a call from my sister’s friend to inform us about the attacks. We turned on the TV and couldn’t believe what we were seeing. Just an hour back I had recommended Leopold to the guys from Delhi for drinks and Bade Miyan for dinner. Thankfully though they had gone to Leopold they did not wait there but moved on to have dinner. Small mercies for me! I was transfixed to the news on TV when suddenly my mom said if you had gone to VT today, you would have been there. Solace for my mom that I was home but I could not feel any relief. I think we have crossed the point where we can be happy that MY family, MY friends and I are unharmed. What about the next time!

I went to sleep that night hoping that when I wake up in the morning, everything will have been sorted out. I think it was clear to everybody by morning that it was not one of those attacks that we have gotten so used to, where there is a blast, we hear about it we call our loved ones and if they are fine thank god for it, feel a little bad for the victims and carry on with life. I feel it is not just resilience that puts us back on our toes the next day, there is a lot of numbness too; as long as everybody we know are fine we almost go about our business with robotic precision. It wasn’t surprising that so many of us were getting restless and impatient and couldn’t understand why the defence operation was taking so long. The longer it went on the deeper went the grip of unease. The frustration and helplessness of the situation got hammered into us and for the first time since so many attacks across India I have noticed people haven’t been able to shake off the sense of loss and carry on unaffected.

There is a lot of anger towards the politicians and of course towards Pakistan. But these are not the only factors that can be held responsible for the attacks we face time and again. Somewhere the citizens of this country are also responsible for the Government apathy towards our security concern. A lot of self-introspection is needed at the individual level. The only time we have a sense of nation and shared identity is when the national cricket team is playing. The rest of the time the state and language divisions are so important to us that even the Indian expatriate community can not overcome it and around the world we see Bengali, Telugu, Gujarati… committees and groups. It is so easy for a Thackarey or a Singh, or a Modi, or a Gandhi or a Yadav to instigate us against each other.

Sometimes I feel we got independence from the British at an inappropriate time. More of our masses should have been educated before we became a sovereign. Even today we have a large vote bank that can be bought for as cheap as 100 rupees per head. From our first Prime Minister to now we have had only opportunists governing us simply because it has been so easy to manipulate and divide on the basis of religion and language. What is disheartening is people still fall for it.

It would be ideal to live in a world with no boundaries and religions. We don’t, but how difficult is it to live in the real world by accepting and appreciating diversities. For a change can we stop hating or differentiating the other person because he does not speak the same language and think as one nation even when India is not playing cricket?

Reverse Osmosis

2008-09-26T17:32:00.003+05:30

Of late I have been meeting foreigners – various nationalities; each one of them finds it astounding that people speak more of English than any of the native languages in Mumbai. I try to tell them that we learn it as first language in school, so we are used to it. They still don't see why we can't talk in hindi among ourselves. Since these encounters I have consciously tried to keep track of conversations I have with people. I have found that very few educated people will reply or talk to you in Hindi or Marathi. Ask a question in Hindi or Marathi and 99 out of 100 times the reply will be in English. Some people just refuse to speak anything else. No wonder so many English speaking classes have sprouted in the city.

One of my friend teaches in one such institute in the western suburbs. Recently I went to meet her at her class and she asked me to talk to the students and give them some tips on how to prepare for interviews. I asked each one of them why did they want to learn to speak English. Everybody believed that English was the key to profesional success. One guy said he works in the purchase department of a company and finds it difficult to communicate with people as many talk to him in English. He stated because he studied in vernacular medium his English is weak and he wants to improve it. I have never liked the word vernacular. I said to him Marathi is not vernacular it is far superior in syntax and structure than English. It is nice to learn English though, it is the most dynamic and inclusive language and much help in the professional world. It is amazing how this term 'Vernacular' has become synonymous with Indian Languages. A bunch of arrogant colonists term some of the richest languages in the history of humankind in terms of both literature and dialect as vernacular and Indians continue to be the torchbearers of a dead past. Allow me a chuckle here.

It is amazing how the English dailies unfailingly use this umbrella term every time they have to refer to any Indian Language. Now since English has become as much Indian as any other language why still the distinction. Can't do much about our psuedo-intellectual, elitist media, they are best left alone. But what's stopping me from having fun. It's time for reverse osmosis (don't ask me what it is, I like the term). I am going to work the ask me anything in English and I will reply in Hindi trick on everybody. And if someone throws a fake accent devil help them.

I abhor Shopping

2008-08-12T10:55:00.000+05:30

After a loooooooooong time I went shopping yesterday. As if it wasn't bad enough before, during this time (my long sabbatical from shopping) clothes have managed to get even more crappier and costlier. What's with Lifestyle, Shoppers Stop, Westside, and all other such stores. Are these shops dumping grounds for badly made, psychedelic clothes? For the first time yesterday I was a little envious of men, dressing is still simple for them and they still get value for money. I see that giving up on clothes is not a choice available, humanity is stuck with its invention. The best option is to keep wearing the same clothes (unless you put on weight, in which case you borrow clothes from your elder sister, who is on her own weight gain trip. If the elder sister has nobody to borrow from, well her fault, you didn't ask her to be the first born). Men too can follow the above example, although life is easy for them (it always is).
Some advantages to give up buying new clothes:
-You save money.
-Looking at your old clothes nobody will expect tips from you.
-Men and women will not get attracted to each other (I think I am on to something here)
-Friends (including Kathy in my case) will start gifting you clothes more often
-I will never go into depression again.

2008-07-31T10:46:00.002+05:30

"There is no point of getting a promotion on the day of your breakup. There is no fun in driving a car if your back hurts. Shopping is not enjoyable if your mind is full of tensions."
- An excerpt from some speech Chetan Bhagat gave to some students.

Balance in life!

2008-07-25T19:38:00.002+05:30

It came to me just now. The answer. I know why I am always dozing off in the office. Most of the lifetime I have spent trying to stay awake in broad daylight. I am a superhero(female)by the night. Now I also know why every morning I have this mass of tangled, jumbled, mumbled, wayward, every woman's nightmare mass of hair on my head. I forget to wear a helmet when I am flying. That's all that came to me, rest of my superhero identity still escapes me.

2008-06-25T11:22:00.000+05:30

Nice, beautiful, rainy day. Lots of work to finish. Am sipping green tea and working at my own pace. My fav cd just stopped playing. Chatted with a long lost friend. Maxi popped in for a minute and sent me hugs. song playing in my heart.

Kahin To Yeh Dil Kabhi Mil Nahin Paate
Kahin Pe Nikal Aaye Janmon Ke Naate
Thami Thi Uljhan Bairi Apna Mann
Apna Hi Hoke Sahe Dard Paraaye

Summer 2007

2008-06-16T16:05:00.000+05:30

I watched Summer 2007 yesterday. It was by fluke that I ended up watching it. Kathy got a break from perjury and was home (his home). He wanted to watch a movie on Sunday by any means, but since he had to go back early evening, he wanted to watch an early afternoon show. We had plans to either watch Aamir, Sarkar Raj or Indiana Jones, but none of the show timings were good for Kathy. The only option was Summer 2007 at 11.40 am. We weren't even thinking of summer 2007. I was under the impression it must be 'I know what I did last summer' kind or other such stupid Hollywoodesque movie. With close to no TV promos and an odd poster here and there with the 5 main characters in various poses for publicity, anybody would think that. My sis said the movie's got good review in IE. I read it, called Kathy and we decided to go for it. I am glad I watched the movie inspite of all odds, sunday morning, lazy mood, and prejudiced preconceived notions about the movie. All in all the movie's good work, nice work by the actors too. Unfortunately, the movie is up only for the morning shows in all multiplexes. There were only 2 rows occupied for the show. My suggestion would be skip the Priyadarshans and RGVs and watch summer 2007 this monsoon. Sad how superbly pathetic and no purpose movies like Tashan and the likes have huge publicity budgets and movies like Summer 2007 come and go without a trace.

2008-06-09T17:19:00.000+05:30

I know it is not a great thought.

But sometimes I feel I should be less of me and more of others.

2008-06-06T18:03:00.000+05:30

Its been a long time since my muse Ganju has appeared on this blog. Before she complains, here is a concocted conversation between Ganju and The Humbles (who else but me)

Ganju: Nahiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Yeh tumne kya kar diya???
The Humbles: Ganju tohar suhag ki kasam hum naahi jaanat (not jannat) yeh kaisan hua. Jaan bujhkar humne kacho naahi kiya.
Ganju: Bhagya tumhare bharose main isse match box se nikalkar ghumne chodd gayi thi. “sob sob sob” Peechle ek hafte se yeh masoom meri tanhayee meetha raha tha.
The Humbles: Par Ganju yeh ek jhingoor hi toh hai
Ganju: Kya, tumhe yeh sirf ek jhingoor nazar aa raha hai! Roz sabere unke jaane ke baad, issike saath toh main saara din guzaarti thi. Kaise, Kaise tum iss nirdosh ki jaan le payi.
The Humbles: Hey Bhagvan! Ee sab kya ho gaya. Humein maaf kardo Ganju, woh kya hain ke hum galti se iss par baith gaye. Kya hai ke humra wajan thoda badh gaya hain na, isse pehle ke hum uth jaate bechare ka dum ghut gaya.
Ganju: Ab main kya karu? Kiske saath apna waqt bitaaon?
The Humbles: Kauno phikar ki baat nahi Ganju. Ek jhingoor kya, humre gaon se hum tumhare liye jhingoor ka pura khandaan mangva sakte hain. Bas tumhare hukum ki deri hain.

Ganju is in deep thought, either she is still mourning or she has liked my idea.

2008-06-05T17:59:00.000+05:30

I could do with less heat, more response to my work, a break, seeing Max and Dim (I so miss these guys), some meditation, carefreeness back again, less pollution, music in my heart, some rain to wash away this strange mood.

Back in the limelight

2008-06-02T17:02:00.000+05:30

For the last 45 odd days, Manoranjan ka Baap, IPL, has been my sisters only interest. The woman was completely hooked. She's watched every damn match except one of the latest Bangalore vs hyderabad match(she couldn't handle the boredom). I have my doubts about going home today. She wont have anything to entertain her, so she might shift her attention on me. Everything from my paunch to the clothes I wear will be under the scanner again. Not that she completely ignored me during the last 45 days, everytime she found me eating a cream biscuit she dutifully pointed out the correlation between food habits and weight gain. She also had problem with a white skirt I had worn last week and the track pants I wore yesterday. The blissful days of low level scanning are over.

Simple Life

2008-05-29T11:02:00.000+05:30

Why don't you put in some effort! he said
Because I am not interested.
You are very blunt.
Yes, it saves a lot of time, I said.

Until then

2008-05-23T18:05:00.000+05:30

If external world is the cause of your sadness, you cannot get rid of that sadness even if you create a new situation or go to a new place.
- Swami Dayanand

If I was anywhere even close to being in the state these words are propagating, I wouldn't be sitting here and making this post. Rather I would be somewhere giving words to my own profound thoughts. Or may be I wouldnt be anywhere at all. But I am here and I am not cut out from this external world. It makes me sad and it makes me happy.

If I get the point, what these profundities mean and the reason they are around is to remind me that you may not be there, but the whole point of this exercise of a lifetime is to get there. I would want to get there. Until then I dont mind going to new places. Only want the travel and stay to be first class.

They did a Musaddilal on ME

2008-05-12T19:11:00.000+05:30

On Friday, I had submitted my passport and documents at the new passport office for address change. I was supposed to collect it today at the specified time, between 4.30 and 5.30 pm. There I was at 4.45 pm all innocent and hopeful a la Musaddilal. I handed the slip to the lady at the counter. She looked through the pile on her desk didn't find my passport so went around looking for it at other peoples desk. This should have triggered my panic button, but for some reason I continued to be innocent and hopeful.

The lady came, gave me my slip back, asked me to sit down and said she will call me in ten minutes. A different lady called me and asked me if I had an old passport. I said no, this is the only passport I have and its valid. So she said they have found records of a similar looking person and similar name, so was I sure if I never had any other passport. The panic button still didn't get triggered. I think I have lost the sense of detecting evil under disguise. Suddenly my dimag ki batti came on and I said the records must be my sisters. So she asked me their names, I gave her both their names. The lady all excited ran to the others screaming yes she has sisters, they are her sisters. Continuing with the same innocent and hopeful frame of mind I thought good now that the puzzle is solved, they will hand me over my passport.

But when were things easy for Musaddilal. After some discussion with their boss, they wanted to know where are my sisters based. I said one is here and the other is abroad. After some more discussion they wanted to know where does the one who is in India stay. I said in the same house with me. I think that did me in. The boss saw a lucrative opportunity of making money out of me. They asked me to get my sister and her passport along with me tomorrow morning. They will verify in person that two similar looking persons do exist. The lady at the counter got quiet sympathetic and she said it shouldn't be a problem we can go ahead and do the address change, but if "sahab" says no what to do.

I wasn't asked for money outrightly, but I am quite sure if I had offered their boss money I would have my passport with me now. When I was standing at the counter a couple passed me and I overheard the man telling the woman that he gave 3000 bucks in bribe and he pointed at the boss and said you see that specky (yeah specky, means the one who wears spectacles)guy, I couldn't hear anything more as they went out of earshot. Another thing, my sisters passport has our current residence address, if I had wanted a duplicate passport why in the world would I want to change the address on my passport to our current address. Logically, why will anybody with the intention to make duplicate passports want it on the same address. If I was an imposter I would at least have the sense of taking on an entirely different surname for myself and totally different names for the parents. Besides, there must be scores of sisters in the world who look alike. Does this happen to all of them? So circumstantial and logical evidence proves that the man just saw a chance to make money out of me. That didn't happen and it wont happen with my sisters cooperation :D. (I told her not to take offence that they think we look alike.)

But what might happen is, the man may get kidnapped, he may be forced to eat lots and lots and lots of jalebis and he may not be given even a drop of water to drink after that.

I am Sweet Spring

2008-05-05T15:54:00.000+05:30

Today I stumbled upon a poet named Komitas. Two of his poems made sense to me so they get the honour of being here.

I AM

I am your love,
I am the heat of your love,
Yet lonely...

I am your woman,
You, you are my soul
That I depend on...

Your voice sounded as sudden thunder of love
My soul breathed as an elating lightning of spring...

I breathed your breath deep down my chest
And by your fire I became the poet of the flames...

Only after reading the poem second time it struck me, that it was written by a man and not a woman. I only know of Kailesh Kher who does that beautifully.

SWEET SPRING

Sweet spring,
Flower and bud,
The merry stream,
Sparkling babble,
Green bloom,
Delightful dew,
Refreshing brook

Where did you leave all these...

While reading this poem I was like, what is this, then I read the last line and it made sense.

2008-05-01T12:18:00.000+05:30

I am a morning person. The day I wake up late I feel the day is wasted. Yesterday I did not set the alarm because today we have kept the office closed. It's Labour Day in Maharashtra so I decided not to labour today. But I woke up at 5.45 am on my own. The cuckoos were already up and making their presence felt. I went about my morning rituals of drinking 1.5L of water followed by a dreamy Yoga session. At 8.00 am I went back to sleep and woke up at 10.00 am, 2 hours of extra sleep doesn't do anybody harm :D

I am very happy, my body is setting back into a proper clock rhythm. I dont have to make an effort to rise early anymore. Until just a month or two back I used to be constantly fatigued and sleepy. It's more than a month now and I have stuck to my 3 alternate days walking and 3 alternate days yoga schedule. I can see the paunch (actually a tire) slowly declining and relinquishing the space it was occupying around me.

I wanted to start with a bit of jogging too. That will have to wait a little, as I had fallen from a stool and sprained my left ankle and hurt the shin too. And as if that was not enough two days later did Surya Namaskar which hurt the leg more. Since then it has been acting up once in while. Which means the jog trip will have to wait until the left leg forgets all about the abuse it went through and starts cooperating again. I wish to be fit enough to be able to participate in the marathon next year. I don't want to run a long stretch or set a goal. I just want to be fit to be able to participate and run. That's it.

2008-04-24T11:01:00.000+05:30

Everyday I want to fly, stay by my side
Everyday I want to dream, stay by my side
Every morning I wish I could just play
Wish the mornings would just stay...

I am in love...with the song, the little girl and of course the pug.

if you like the company you keep in the empty moments

2008-04-21T18:07:00.000+05:30

Ganju had given this poem to me ages back. It has been coming back to me off and on since the last few days. so today I dug it out from wherever it was stored among the other bits & bytes. I don't think I have read a better poem as far as putting things in perspective is concerned. So putting it up here for anybody who ends up here and cares to read it. I don't even know who wrote it.

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your sorrows, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from the fear of pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can see the beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you will stand at the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Learning

2008-04-16T14:20:00.000+05:30

Another small delay today. What we were hoping for is on the tentative now. It is never easy once the ball is out of your court and you have to depend on other factors for things to happen, move, work... Running a start up has made me realise there is no end to patience and perseverance. There is no such thing as I have been patient enough or I have done enough. Continuous, relentless efforts are all that matters. Simple wisdom! I am thankful for learning it now.

Who's Who?

2008-04-04T12:39:00.000+05:30

So we are not as unique as we would like to think. Has anybody noticed the similarities between Kareena Kapoor (KK) and Paris Hilton (PH)? They look so same they could pass off for twins. Bhalla thinks they must be split soul, one born as KK and another as PH. I must say one smart soul, enjoying both lives.

Come to think of it, there must be everybody's look alike somewhere. When I was a kid of about 15-16 years, there was this grocery shop in our locality from where I shopped for groceries. Every time I went to this shop the guys working there would get really excited and would whisper among themselves. This went on a few times, each time they would call someone new from inside, look at me and whisper. Thankfully after a couple of visits I found the reason for all this excitement and whispering. The old man who owned the shop told me he had a daughter approx my age who looked "hoobahoo" like me and lived in Lucknow. Thats why everybody in the shop was happy to see me.

The moment I saw the connection and realised I was the source of a lot of happiness for the man, my mind started screaming DISCOUNT! DISCOUNT! But I think the man's antennae were out of warranty, they did not catch the signal my brain was sending. So I ended with no discount and a memory to surface every time I saw KK and PH pictures splashed in the papers. What must life be like for my lookalike? Married? Kids? A conventional life in conventional Lucknow? How different from the humble one's life who is just about managing to keep herself above the poverty line?

Passive Smoker in Making with designs on Saif Ali Khan

2008-04-02T12:49:00.000+05:30

A day before Holi I was invited by an acquaintance to join him and his friends in some disc in Bandra. From where I stay I will reach Pune faster than Bandra. But he kept insisting that I come for once. So I had to tell him that am not acting like a social discard to earn more footage, its just that I can't handle cigarette smoke. To which I was told that in such places one should become an active smoker. I don't see a point in paying for something that I get for free.

The last time I subjected myself to passive smoking, I ended up with throat infection which took close to 2 months to go away. This guy on the next table at Mocambo was smoking as if cigarettes were going out of fashion. I could have changed my seat, but where could I go. I would still be on this earth. It's not that easy to avoid them smokers. The food was so delicious that only at the end of the meal I realised I was croaking like a frog and it felt like a nano bomb (my own creation) had exploded inside my throat.

Last Sunday I had to meet someone on beejness. So here we went, Rascal and I, to Barista. Our contact had just recuperated from fever so he couldn't handle the AC inside and we ended up sitting outside, among the liberated, whose lives purpose is to smoke it away in glory. Looks like my immune system has seen a spike lately. No throat infection this time, am only croaking a lil bit and it doesn't seem in a hurry to get better. Another few days and I will get used to the phata hua awaaz.

Rascal came up with a brilliant solution for this problem. I should join Ogie during his daily smoking sojourns. But that will give me very limited exposure, so I am thinking of inviting tenders from hot men, a la Saif Ali Khan in Race, who smoke. Wait! If I remember correct, he did not smoke in the movie. Perfect!

The tree will live on and on

2008-03-15T12:29:00.000+05:30

There is a beautiful anjeer (fig) tree outside our building compound, which shades my bedroom from direct sunlight. It is a delight to wake up every morning and see this tree the first thing in the morning. Its speciality is it bears fruits throughout the year and is in full bloom in winter and leafless in spring. It provides non-stop food supply for the squirrels and the assorted birds around. About a year back a nutcase almost got this tree cut. He had encroached the land around the tree and was afraid some monsoon it may not withstand the strong wind and fall on his roof. They did cut a lot of branches on his side and when they started chopping on our side my mom saw what was happening and went down and stopped them from cutting the tree. Some feisty lady she is.

Since then the branches have grown a lot on our side and now they touch our window; to my delight! Only problem, when there is good amount of breeze, one particular branch keeps hitting on the tin shade we have on our window to keep the rain out. The thing is it is not possible to sleep when it does that due to the noise it makes. And second, during the monsoon with the wind always strong the branch will continuously hammer the shade and might break it. So we thought we will have a tiny part of the branch cut and asked folks living on the first floor to refer a tree cutter. We live on the second floor.

To our horror they suggested we cut all the branches down to the trunk, so that the problem is solved forever. My ma told them it’s not required; we just want to cut the tiniest part possible. But the psycho kept trying to convince her to cut the entire tree and leave the stump (probably as a reminder of the destruction we humans are capable of). As if that is not enough the jokers who make our neighbours want to have another tree chopped. Reason! Dried leaves from the tree fall on the terrace and make kachra. Someone’s got to tell them the only being that litters this planet is humans. I totally fail to understand the enthusiasm people have for chopping off trees. What will it take for humans to start seeing sense? Complete desertisation?

2008-03-03T14:17:00.000+05:30

"Tujhe akele kaam karne mein bore nahi hota hai?" she asks me every time I talk to her. My answer always is no. When I am working alone I don't have to put up an act. I don't have to tolerate people I don't want to. Nobody tries to put me down. No smart asses to deal with. No interruptions. No bitching. No games. No more cacophony of mindless words.

Music...Silence...thoughts...peace

How could I not love my own company?

2007-11-16T13:54:00.000+05:30

http://www.giveindia.org/give/images_giveindia/banner5.gif

2007-11-07T17:00:00.000+05:30

I woke up from my dream shivering and my body in kind of a spasm. In the dream, I was on a snow covered mountain peak with my sister and another person I do not remember. My sister was frantically digging into the snow to hide our rings; I very vividly recollect one of them was the tiny emerald stone ring I wear on my little finger. We were hiding the rings from Voldemort. Yes! The Dark Lord himself. He was coming for us. That’s when I woke up shivering as if I was in the Himalayas.

Although I had woken up my body was still on the snow covered mountain and wouldn’t stop trembling. I had to tell myself loudly that Voldemort is dead and I am safe and warm in my house, in my bed. After sometime the trembling stopped and I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. Something tells me I am missing magic and fighting the evil.

2007-10-28T12:39:00.000+05:30

I always fancied that some man write poetry for me. Not a poetry but somebody wrote an ad copy for me. Saw it yesterday in HT Cafe

"My middle has started whispering my age.
But the little voices inside my head are screaming.
Telling me, run.
Leave lethargy far behind.
...

Beep Beep! Red Alert! Beep Beep!

Loving it

2007-09-28T10:52:00.000+05:30

It is raining as if it is the beginning of monsoon. I was about to get out of the house when it started raining. So I thought I will wait it out, but after about 15 minutes and no sign of the rain stopping, armed with my legendary, green umbrella I ventured out into the pouring rain. After all the adventure in finding a rick, sharing it with 2 other girls, and paying more than I should have reached office 9 minutes late. I shouldn’t forget to add that I am wearing white today. So I had very good reason to avoid the rain, but as I am now coming to acknowledge Nature is quite devious when it comes to playing pranks with pretty women in white.

But no matter white clothes turning brown, mud in my toenails, reaching late to meetings, getting wet from head to toe and then freezing in the office, I love rains. And as I do not go by the name Dim or Rascal, I do not wear socks, and since I do not wear socks they don’t get wet in rains, and I don’t have to go around with soggy socks on. But soggy socks or not I would and still love rain.

2007-09-21T14:20:00.000+05:30

With the AC turned off and the window open, I am sitting by the window watching the rain and the trees. Not a single soul around. They seem to have abandoned the office.

This is bliss! Nice to occupy the window seat.

but she makes good egg curry

2007-08-18T13:16:00.000+05:30

I don’t know what to think of it. How after knowing someone for years you start thinking that you know all the facets of a person’s insanity, but suddenly, out of the blue the person shows a new streak of madness and you are left to come to terms with this massive paradigm shift.

That’s what Ganju did to me yesterday, she ruffled me, just like a bird’s feathers are ruffled when it gives itself a good shake after getting drenched in rain, or, while we are into analogies, like the surface of still water is ruffled when a stone lands on it. She called me yesterday, when I was making last minute changes in my work of the day and thinking about the Motta curry I was going to make once home, incidentally the recipe was given to me by Ganju. Hmm, I see a karmic connection here.

So she called and she asked, ‘Have you seen Shekhar Suman?’

Me: what do you mean?
I mean, isn’t he looking gorgeous, what with 6 pack abs (hope I got that right) and all that, not to forget his new hairstyle.
Me (Concern creeping into my voice): Ganju, are you alright, is something disturbing you?
She just ignored what I said and went on, Gosh! He looks so great yaar. Must have worked out really hard to build all that talle shalle (hope I got that right too).
Hey! May be he took steroids.
Once again my words were ignored or may be they got lost in the air waves or whatever waves that carry telephonic conversations; and she continued.
What talent! He sings so heavenly yaar, she crooned. ‘I thought his first song was mind-blowing, but after listening to his second song I am lost for words.’
For God’s sake Ganju, new research on his singing has found that if subjected to his songs for prolonged period, can cause death, a slow, excruciating death. His audio CDs come with the symbol of a skull and a precautionary note, CAUTION!Handle with Care. Only for severe punishment purposes, accidental exposure should be treated with extensive therapy.
Ganju must have finally paid attention to my words, because she said (with a quivering voice), ‘You are so mean Bhagya, I wish I had never told you about Shekhar Suman’ and she hung up.

I didn’t call her back. I didn’t have the courage to endure few more minutes of discussing Shekhar Suman. But I couldn’t get Ganju out of mind, not when I was buying Mottas on my way home, not while cooking; not even seeing my ma after a week or listening to the accounts of her trip could rid me of the guilt I felt. May be if I had called and spoken to Ganju more often and kept a general track of her, this wouldn’t have happened. Or at least I would have seen some signs of her growing attraction to Shekhar Suman and could have done something before it was too late.

Is there a Shekhar Sumanic anonymous or something like that, where people like Ganju are cured without their knowledge. If there is such a group, I would like to know about it. By helping to cure her of this mania I can redeem myself from the paap of having neglected her all this while.

The road never ends

2007-08-15T12:19:00.000+05:30

I followed my off day routine and started the day with the newspapers. Freedom, independence, 60 years, these terms seem to be predominantly spread across pages, across newspapers. That day of the year, to voice opinions about this republic, its current state, to bask in its conceived glory and criticize its many shortcomings which for some reason are somebody else’s doings.

And on this day I do not have an opinion or feel anything for the country or its independence or impending super power status or the still continuing caste atrocities and female feticides. That’s a far cry from the younger person I used to be. Now at exactly half the age of this independent country I seem to have reached a state of absolute disconnect from the world that I once inhabited. Consumed completely by a world conjured up by my mind, with no place for anything beyond me. This freedom that is so much talked about is something I have always had but never recognized it until I was much grown up and couldn’t understand women who accepted not having it.

I had a friend in my childhood, named Zeenat by her father but the name was traded off for a more Hindu sounding name. Zeenat was born a day before me or maybe just half a day before me. I was born sometime after midnight and that’s how our birth dates happened to be different, although our mothers had gone into labour on the same day. She stayed with her maternal grandparents and an assortment of uncles and aunts, her mother’s sibling. Her parents chose to keep her younger brother with them but not her because the locality they stayed in was not conducive for girls or their house was quite small or I think a combination of those two reasons.

Zeenat did not have any of the liberties that I enjoyed. She was not allowed to play at any hour of the day; she was not allowed to watch late night movies screened on cloth screens on the roads during Ganesh Chaturthi; we were both notorious for not doing our homework and skipping studies, as compensation she had to do lessons even in the summer holidays while I got the entire two months off.

But Zeenat had a way to turn all the restrictions into nothing and have fun. She stole pickles from right under her grandma’s nose with me standing guard at the kitchen door; she stored the lunch she didn’t want to eat in the part of her dress that was held with elastic at the waist and dispose it off when she went to throw the litter from her house in the afternoon. She had great skill for stealing and under her patronage I too got to hone my embezzling skills. She swore, lied, stole, danced, devised plans to eliminate or at least cause a lil harm to her brother, with me party to it except for the swearing and lying, she did everything that her family if they had known would have punished her for. In spite of all the restrictions, Zeenat lived up every moment at least those years when we were together and never took her rebellion too far or too seriously.

Our lives have turned out quite differently. We had lost touch when my family moved out of that building. But somehow we got in touch in our teen ages, back then for her the obvious thing to do was to find a guy and get hitched, while I thought it best to find my bearings first. She did exactly what she had set out to do and I, well, am still walking the path.

Lately, and I would say unfortunately, I am coming across too many people, especially women who seem to think they have a right to mould me in their (right) ways, as if I am a wayward lock that can be set back in its place with lots of oil and persistent combing. So friendly advices about how it is high time I get married have been steadily coming my way. But it’s not the right catch I am looking for (somehow it seems to be the most difficult thing for all and sundry to grasp). If anything, I am looking to quiet this growing discontent. This discontent, which has always been a part of me but would pop its head out only once in a while and most of the time allow me to live in my bubble. But it has grown now and reached its crescendo and will leave me only when it is sure I understand the reason behind its presence.

There is this other persistent noise (that’s growing with my age) not part of me that keeps trying to win over my inner voice, that discontent that keeps me going. It is the voice of this collective conventional idea of a woman. The idea, which has nothing much in common with me. That’s why I think even my closest men friends sometimes tell me, ‘but you are not a woman, you are a man’, they are of course joking and want to irritate me. But come to think of it we do not joke about something repeatedly unless somewhere we agree with the concept. But I had never wanted to be a man, cause I figured I could do whatever I wanted to by being a woman. But that’s not how I believe it is for other women, as my colleague said to me the other day, “I wouldn’t think of getting married if I was a man, but! I am a woman.” I didn’t say anything in response. I am just glad I figured out I can be a woman and be free to make and live my destiny.

An anecdote from the tooth decay experts diary

2007-06-23T23:02:00.000+05:30

I had an appointment with a dentist today to start with a root canal treatment. After the preliminary testing to check if the nerve is alive or the tooth is dead, he asked if I was in pain. I replied in affirmative, but he wouldn’t believe me. He said no you don’t seem to understand what you feeling it is not pain, cause it is not possible that a patient won’t scream when a needle touches the nerve. I said I have had two root canals before and I didn’t scream on either instance. He hurried inside and after few long seconds of painful wonderment and holding back of tears he came back with a cylinder shaped ice and touched it to my tooth. I said there is sensation. To which he said your symptoms are not matching you don’t have pain but feel sensation with ice. Your teeth can either be dead or alive.

I should commend myself for having maintained my composure. I said I felt pain when you touched the needle, throbbing pain that made me cry but I did not. He still dismissed my claims to pain and said he will anyways give me anaesthesia before starting the root cleanup. Mild anaesthesia for me is like empty threats, never works on me. The needle touches the nerve again, I still don’t scream but motion him to stop. He now realizes that I am not faking an Oscar winning performance of resilience, he will never get that scream out of me and injects something directly into the tooth which gives instant relief.

I am not a masochist; I do not enjoy pain, physical or otherwise. But then I don’t scream, I usually don’t react that extremely. Accidents, distress, root canals, disasters by tailors and hair dressers, horror movies (these make my insides shiver, but my face manages a calm composure, I don’t know how) nothing has ever made me scream in horror. But sometimes I guess you got to scream to be taken seriously. Monday got an appointment with the doc again. Tomorrow is Sunday, it will be a good thing to spend the day practicing screaming, who knows the practice, someday, might bring me an Oscar.

2007-06-02T11:22:00.001+05:30

It is more than three months since you have passed away. With the passing days I miss you more. There are times when I wish I should have been able to do something, to cure you, like a miracle maybe, so that you could still be around. I don’t know what is it that I want you to be around for, maybe to see me get married, play with my kids, be proud of my achievements. But you were always proud of me. I counted you among my blessings and you topped the list.

You were so unlike other fathers. You gave us those rare things that so many kids don’t get, trust, respect and freedom. We were always allowed to make our decisions, whom to befriend, what to study, how late to stay out at night. You never tried to live our lives. We never had to ask for permission to go to movies or a picnic or see a guy. Having you for a father I could never understand the restrictions other girls had to face.

You could be so naïve at times. During college when R would come to drop me home in the night, once you had asked me to ask him inside for tea. I had told you nobody is getting invited at 11.30 in the night for tea. That was your gesture, hospitality for someone who had brought your daughter back home safely. I can never forget that incident; everything was so simple and uncomplicated for you.

There is so much to do and so much to live for. Hope you will always be there with me.

Hum kis gulley jaa rahein hain, apna koi theekana nahi

2007-05-14T20:40:00.000+05:30

Viyer wanted to know how Spiderman 3 is. Told her it is a Hollywood meet Bollywood kind of a movie. She said yeah she had read reviews, only thing missing was running around trees. No worries they are trying to rectify that in the next part.

They are looking for Bollywood-based directors. Talks are on with Himes Bhai (music composer turned singer turned actor might turn into director), but they are not too happy about his insistence on replacing Tobey Maguire and adding a cap to spidermans’ ensemble. So they had also considered YashRaj Banner, but a problem here too, they (YashRaj) insist on writing a part for Uday Chopra as a side-kick to Spiderman. They want 4 songs to be picturised on Uday, while spiderman will be fighting crime, who of course will not get any footage.

They also checked out Karan Johar who is all willing to be part of the spiderman family, after all he loves New York, but his only clause is he wants to cast Shahrukh Khan. All SRK will do is woo MJ and in the end after few profound dialogues and expressions will get the girl. KJ has some novel idea about a party song too, to be composed by Shankar, Ehsaan, and Loy of course, with guest appearance by AB Sr. and Jr., Kajol, Rani, Saif, John, er did I miss out anyone.

With Rakesh Roshan having already made his own Super hero movie, he is not interested. So they have kind of run out of options what with other directors making watchable movies.

RECIPE FOR BHEJA FRY

2007-05-02T20:13:00.000+05:30

INGREDIENTS

1 Bheja of a regular, logical, hardworking employee
1 project specially created for frying Bhejas
Few stupid ideas of a brainless (see the irony) boss
Some silly suggestions by the same brainless boss
Irrelevant feedback by…………………………….

METHOD OF PREPARATION

1. Marinate the Bheja in the project for a day, for better results keep it air-conditioned at about 16 degrees.
2. Next day approx. after 24 hrs, check on the Bheja, it should be numb.
3. Saute the numb bheja in the few stupid ideas and let it simmer on low flame for hours.
4. When the bheja turns golden brown and is ready to explode add some silly suggestions and let it cook for some more time, this time on high flame.
5. If not satisfied with the rate at which the bheja is getting fried, keep adding silly suggestions.
6. When the bheja is completely fried––u can make out by the crackling sound––then turn the flame off and serve it garnished with irrelevant feedback.

2007-01-08T20:58:00.000+05:30

I was standing at the bus stop.

From the house across the street, two very old and frayed people came out.
A man and a woman. Holding hands, the woman clinging to the man.
They made to cross the road, but held back for the bus to pass.
Then with hurried steps they crossed the street.
The woman started walking in my direction.
With hurried steps the man crossed to the other side and went back into the house.
It took me few seconds to realise.
The old man had come out just to see the old woman safe across the street.
How beautiful!

Economics of Marriage

2006-12-24T22:44:00.000+05:30

Colleague: My friend is getting married.
Bhagya: Khool.
Colleague: He is getting married to one of my ex-students.
Bhagya: Great! What’s the exchange rate?
Colleague: I don’t know I don’t ask such details.
Bhagya: You should. That will help me assess my standing in the market.
Colleague: You know the two most difficult things in life are to make a house and get a girl married.

From the data that I have gathered I have come to the conclusion that my colleague is right. I don’t know about buying a house, my research has to do with marriage. A year back Spooman had told me that one of her friends was demanding a dowry of Rs. 20 lakhs. The reasoning was that he had spent so much money to study in the US and now he is working there, how can he allow his wife enjoy his fruits of labour for free. Why didn’t he become a rickshaw driver, he could have saved himself all the trouble. Then, there is Spooman’s cousin, some obscure TV actor or is that TV Star. Back then his rate was 60 lakhs, must have gone up now if he is not yet married. Why? Why? Why would anyone want to pay 60 lakhs to get themselves an anthropoid drone? Is this freakin world for real? If I had sixty lakh rupees I would be in Italy, wooing Italian men, drinking vintage wine, and gorging on Italian food. I am salivating. I hope just thinking about Italian men, Italian wine, and Italian food doesn’t amount to sin.

Coming back to the topic under discussion, two years back my bro’s bihari colleague got married for a cool sum of 8 lakh in cash, a car, assortment of jewellery and of course the dhoom-dhaam se shaadi ka expense. I had pestered my bro to marry a bihari girl, but he wouldn’t give in. He is one of those stupid people who don’t make hay when the sun shines. Especially foolish cause the market is equally good in Andhra (our native place) too. Information on other states is currently in process as soon as it is available it will be published on this blog for general reference. Kindly do not take the rates mentioned in this post as the official rates. Rate of exchange differs depending on individual parties and negotiation is possible.

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind

2006-11-22T17:47:00.000+05:30

I haven’t watched the movie by that name. But I understand the urge to clear one’s mind of everything. It will be so nice to wake up in the morning with nothing on your mind and never wake up in the middle of the night. A mind completely purged, ummmmm very tempting. While am on movies I should mention that I had wanted to watch Omkara, Dor, and Lage Raho Munnabhai but I didn’t watch anyone of them. Have been very busy. You know that state of mind where you keep thinking, oh my god! I got so much to do how can I take time out for anything else.

But I have grown smarter now and spaced things out. And I have resolved to watch every movie I wish. That leaves the problem of finding company. My sister will be the scapegoat. If I ask her to come for a movie with me, her standard answer will be, ek din toh milta hai aaram karne ko, shee Sunday ko nahi. Hehehe, but I am cunning for nothing. I will book the tickets on the net and then tell her. Knowing her she will never want the money to go waste.

Anwar seems like might be interesting, will watch that. There is Dhoom 2, but not even half-naked hot men can make me watch a crappy movie. So for now looking forward to only one movie.

2006-11-20T17:49:00.000+05:30

Awrighty then! I was tagged by Essar sometime back. Today after senseless talk with Ganju I am in high spirits and decided to do it.

I am thinking about…
the same thing over and over again.

I said…
all the wrong things

I refuse…
to get conditioned.

I want to…
meet Verma and Balaji, my school classmates. Verma was the 1st ranker in my class. Once during a history exam I had asked her an answer to a question, I knew the answer but wanted to confirm it. According to her the answer was France, but I knew the answer was Spain. Yet I went along with her answer and flunked in history by 1 mark. The point is I clearly remember flunking in history, which means the incident has scarred me for life. Don’t get my intentions wrong, I don’t want to meet Verma to avenge her after all these years. It’s just that she had moved to Delhi after school so I am just curious about what’s up with her now.
In the 10th std., by then I had stopped flunking exams, one of the teachers randomly asked some students what they would like to do in the future. Balaji had said he would want to study microbiology. I remember me turning my head and looking at him with surprise. I went yuck why anybody would want to study biology, I mean if you had to study science, chemistry would be the better choice. The scene is still etched in my mind, I can see it. Since then I have wanted to know if Balaji has actually became a microbiologist.

I wish…
for salvation, if that is too much then I will settle for a good neck and shoulder massage.

I hear…
myself.

I wonder…
all the time

I regret…
nothing. And I mean it. I have raked my brain but found nothing to regret about.

I am…
filhal toh nothing

I dance…
I cannot dance to save my life. If I was Basanti, Veeru would be dead and history would be different.

I sing…
very often, no matter how many people ask me to shut up. I love to hum meaningful lyrics.

I cry…
when I can’t hold my tears back.

I am not always…
strong.

I make with my hands…
expressions.

I write…
to churn some thoughts out of my mind.

I confuse…
nobody.

I need…
to be reticent.

My Chance at Immorality

2006-11-19T12:30:00.000+05:30

Lately, Orkut has been in news for all the wrong reasons or right depends on how u look at it. Some girls pictures were put up and wrong information was provided about them, which caused them trouble. I wouldn’t have known any of that had I not received mails from friends to let me know about the said incident and advising me that it would be prudent for me not to upload my picture on Orkut. What if my picture is used for pornography?

I did not take heed not because I dont respect my friends advices, but because I didnot see the need. Second why would anybody take MY picture and use it for pornography. I mean who am I. There are scores of people who are into this business then why would anybody pick up a random picture that most probably wont even gel with the works. And even if say my picture does get chosen, how the hell will I ever know unless someone I know is majorly into pornography and reports to me about the event.

Will that cause me embarrassment? I don’t know. Why will anybody who knows me believe that it’s me in the picture? Say they do believe it, so what? Haven’t people been that path sometime out of curiosity or just because it is one of their staple needs. So if someone you know is a porn actor how come it becomes unacceptable? And most importantly how do you define pornography, will someone explain?

I am pathetic at, and do not like networking. The only reason I am on Orkut is cause some of my friends are away and it is just another way to keep in touch with them. Another thing, I hoped to come across some folks from my school and college. So far my search has not been successful for simple reason that how do I recognize them without their pictures. I see the names, but how do I know these are the people I am looking for. I am not interested in making friends with strangers or good looking guys or people with similar interests, it doesn’t work for me.

So my picture stays up there, if I cant find them then maybe they will find me.

Broken Dreams and Different Philosophies

2006-11-06T18:41:00.000+05:30

Sometime back I had received an SMS that the hutch dog is dead and now they are looking for a monkey and I should send my picture and resume to them. I was elated finally I found my calling. But I wanted to play fair so I sent the message to all my friends. Kathy said he would lose hands down if I applied, other friends were of the same opinion too. Ganju took the first flight to Mumbai, it was a Saturday, but went back when she realised I was her competition.

I knew I would face no problem as far as physical appearance was concerned. The human characteristics and behavioural pattern that I had acquired over the years might prove a deterrent. So, there was only one thing I could do I had to completely give up contact with the humans. Also I had to work on my inherent monkeyness.

The first thing I gave up was blogging, as that was the most human thing I used to do. Instead I took up activities like tree-climbing and snatching stuff from passers-by. Not even the incessant complaints to my parents could deter me from working towards my goal.

It is very difficult to give up old habits. But being a monkey is fun and simple. So I was willing to put in the hard work. Alas! If only I had known that the hutch network is jammed most of the time not cause the dog is dead, but cause……… well I don’t know. The dog is alive and following.

Anyway it was fun while it lasted, the monkey business that is. So you humans gonna see more of me from now. Kindly adjust.

2006-09-21T21:37:00.000+05:30

The drama here ends
The curtain falls
In the deafening applause
I bow out

Sex is a Responsibility

2006-09-04T21:11:00.000+05:30

Just watched a movie on the hallmark channel. The movie is called,'Mom at Sixteen'.

The story is about this girl who gets pregnant at 15 and has a baby boy at the age of 16.

In the end the girl addresses her classmates. This is what she says.
You can get pregnant whether you are practising safe sex or whether you are not.
It can happen to you and it can happen to anybody.
They tell us that sex is just one of the things we do.
The movies the magazines tell us that.
They lie to us. The world lies to us...........................

Sex is a big responsibility.

2006-08-06T17:59:00.000+05:30

For Maxi, Dim, and I.

Aankhon mein sapne liye
Ghar se hum chal to diye
Jaane yeh raahein ab le jaayengi kahan
Mitti ki khushboo aaye
Palkon pe aansu laaye
Palkon pe reh jaayega yaadon ka jahan
Manzil nayi hai anjaana hai kaarvaan
Chalna akele hai yahan
Tanha dil, tanha safar
Dhoonde tujhe phir kyoon nazar
Tanha dil, tanha dil, tanha dil
Tanha dil, tanha dil

Ageless Magic

2006-07-30T18:28:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I turned 29. No Big Deal! Except just two days back a girl who was there for interview too asked me if it would be my first job. I smiled, said no I have worked before. She asked how many years of experience. I said about 8 yrs, she kept shaking her head and kept saying, ‘You look too young for 8 years of experience’.

I find it hard to believe that I could pass for a 20 or 21 year old, especially since I now keep my hair long and have taken to wearing salwar-kameezes to work. Nevertheless such reaction is amusing. I remember when I was 19 and in my last year at college, I so did not want to be 20. It had nothing to do with growing old it is just that I wanted to be a teenager forever. Somehow I feel I have managed to do that, no, not to look like a teenager but to feel like one.

The day after the interview I watched two Harry Potter movies and like that was not enough in the night the cable guy showed ‘The Chronicles of Narnia”. I had gotten hooked to Harry Potter series after watching ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’, it was between my last two jobs. I read all the five books back to back. I live books, period. So, all the adventures that Harry goes through I live them too. I believe these books somewhere satisfy the child who used to build structures out of cardboards and believed them to be castles. Who would sit along on the terrace wall facing the western express highway looking out at the colourful Maruti cars, dreaming of flying. Who would roam in the wilderness that surrounded Abhinav School, sometimes alone, sometimes with her friend Pinky and let her imagination run wild.

The 7th book in the Harry Potter series should have been out by now, July is almost over. Waiting impatiently.

2006-07-21T12:39:00.000+05:30

At the interview.

Are you married?
No!

Don't want to get married?
Nothing like that.

Waiting for someone in line?
Yes for Milind Soman, hoping he will meet me someday and realise we are made for each other. If he gets married before the above mentioned dream is realized, then I might get married to the next rich guy I come across and who is foolish enough to marry me.

I didn't say any of that, though now I feel I should have, as I didn't take up that job any ways and at Renuka's house read in Mumbai Mirror that Milind Soman has finally got married. I had not meant to go to Renuka's place, had gone to the Maharashtra State Board for Education, in Vashi, to collect the migration certificate for a cousin. I had gone there early morning, only to be told certificate will be issued between 2.30pm and 5.00pm, I should have checked the time on the back of the receipt. The stamp on the back of the receipt was blotched, the time could have been 10.30 or 12.30 or anything that fancied your imagination. I wanted to cry, it was my third visit to this excuse of an education institute, if I say I was frustrated it would be an understatement. I called amma and wanted to cry, but I didn't, told her will be home soon. On my way to the Vashi station, in the rickshaw I wanted to cry, I didn't. I wanted to cry while I was waiting for the train, but I didn't.

And at that moment I thought of Renuka, who stays close to the Board, she had called the day before and told me she is not well so will be home. I called her and asked if I could visit her, she said yes. At her home had a good time, went through this book called, 'The Little big Book of Love"

A poem from this book. Let Me Not to the Marriage of True Minds by William Shakespeare.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediment; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds.
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved.
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

2006-07-16T12:20:00.000+05:30

The Latest Happy Dent Ad - Simply Brilliant!

Identify the Terrorists

2006-07-14T23:37:00.000+05:30

Cash prizes for the dead have been declared and a couple of policemen stationed on every railway station. Policemen, busy sitting in a corner and chatting, probably about how they couldn’t make their usual hafta on the 11th, due to the damn blasts. I could have carried explosives and planted them at will and they would have not noticed. And after a week or so the highly vigilant police will get back to normal too.

Next time you are in dire need of money don’t buy a lottery, just pray for a blast. If you get lucky, the family can claim the compensation and send a thank you note to the terrorists. Now wait a minute, how do you identify a terrorist? Who deserves the thank you note from you?

The politicians, who declare the prizes for the martyrs and condemn the attacks, but do nothing about preventing them, except, in cases when the attacks happen on the parliament.

Or the intelligence agencies and armed forces that will sell the secrets to any foreign buyer willing to pay a good price.

Or the police force that will let illegal consignments into any city for a few bucks.

Or a group of deranged men with an equally insane ideology seeking to annihilate the human race and backed by nations with pure and friendly intent.

I am confused, could someone identify the terrorists, please.

Yeh hai Bambai meri jaan

2006-07-13T21:00:00.000+05:30

The Headline in today’s Times of India went something like this – city on the edge its fabled spirit flagging. What city are these people talking about? They seem to be grossly mistaken in their assessment. For one the spirit of Mumbai is not a fable, it is like a live being, so strong that its presence is felt even by the first timers to this city. Utar jaaye ragon mein jo toh yeh nasha hai. This spirit so magnanimous and engulfing it makes the filth, corruption, bad infrastructure and other vices ailing this city pale in comparison. And talking about being on the edge has this city ever been any different.

I went to Vile-Parle today which is part of the western suburbs. I stay in the eastern suburbs, so had to take a central line train to Dadar and from there change to a western line train to reach Vile-Parle. The atmosphere in the trains was no different from how it generally is. In one train 2 ladies were discussing how in movies Spiderman and Krissh save people, but if something happens to them there would be no such saviour. Another train, another 2 ladies, one was advised by a friend to take the ladies special as that train might be safe, to which the lady said she answered uparwallah hai, we got to do what we got to do. All in good humour.

While coming back in the afternoon the tiklis, earrings, and other assorted item vendors were doing their usual business in the trains. The afternoon crowd i.e. mummies and daddies with their kids in tow were out too, going about their agendas as usual. Looks like the newspaperwallahs haven’t been around Mumbai in the last two days, hence the fabled report.

2006-07-05T12:04:00.000+05:30

Yesterday night Ganju called to check if my family and I are safe, kahi Mumbai ki barish mein phanse toh nahi.

Ganju : Kaisa hai, not going out of the house in the rains no?
Me: No, naukri nahi toh bahar kyun nikalne ka
Ganju: So every body home, last year sab alag alag jagah pe the na
Haan last year each one was stranded at a diff. Place.
Ganju: So whats happening with you? Any news
No nothing trying to look for a job.

I changed the topic and we gossiped a little about our old colleagues. But it is not easy to divert Ganju from her beloved topic.
Ganju came back to, so whats happening with you?
Nothing yaar.
Arey settle nahi hona hai tujhe?
Me: I am settled, isse jyaada aur kya settle hona hai?
You know what I mean, look for somebody.
I will be glad if I can find a job, don’t want to look for anything else. Rozi-roti ka intezaam karna hai, aur kuch nahi
To which the wizened Ganju said, Abey find somebody who will take care of that.

In the morning I had a brilliant idea. Ganju and Chrys can adopt me and find me a nice rich groom preferably a software engineer from the land of liberty, pay a hefty dowry and get me settled. In this arrangement there are some benefits for them too. They will get a beautiful daughter. Another thing no generation gap, we can party together. Got to call Ganju, nek kam mein deri kaisi.

2006-07-04T14:02:00.000+05:30

While I am waiting for somebody to knock on my door and offer me my dream job, I have decided to blog about me, well I have always blogged about myself, only occasionally straying into other domains, but since it has always been my perspective about things, well it has always been about me, so nothing new there. Some might want to argue about this dream job issue, go ahead, that’s exactly the kind of stimulation my otherwise over rested mind needs.

Now instead of blogging about me, I could have watched a movie maybe every alternate day at the newly opened PVR and blogged about those movies, but for a tiny problem, I am broke. And secondly after watching Final Destination 3 and Krissh I am not sure if I want to venture into a theatre so soon.

It’s been raining non stop for the last few days so been at home all the time. It is nice to be home, except for those moments when I have to venture into the living room where my dad is constantly watching news. The latest news seems to be whether the Pope prefers Germany or Italy to win the semi finals. And I was under the impression I don’t have anything constructive to do, here is this entire industry that can beat me any day.

So while I am waiting for that knock and living off my sisters and trying to avoid catching the latest news may there be world peace.

My Spiritual Quest

2006-07-02T09:14:00.000+05:30

1) A 20 year old gifted boy goes to Singapore to propose marriage to his lady love. Pray why didn’t the grandma tell him the legal eligible age for marriage is 21 years?

2) Are girls really that stupid?

3) How old is the girl (lady love)?

4) Are girls really that stupid??

5) Money saved on inconsequential things like script, screenplay, and girls clothes. Childish computer simulation, the freaky Japanese animations on Jetix are better. ( I had never thought I would ever get an occasion to acknowledge this) So where was the money spent?

6) Are girls really that stupid???

7) Are there going to be anymore sequels, if yes, then will we have a different heroine or the same one? If No, then thankyou.

8) Are girls really that stupid????

9) Whose cleavage was better the superhero’s or the girls?

10) Are girls really that stupid?????

If I don’t get answers to these questions before I die, I will remain a restless soul. If I get answers for question No 1, 3, 5, 7 and 9 but not for questions 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10 I will remain slightly uneasy soul, post death that is. If it is the other way round I might just get a haircut.

Life is the intoxication sober minds are high on.

2006-06-29T19:01:00.000+05:30

I was reading about Pace Makers, a metal device that helps the heart pump blood throughout the body. As always my mind went on a tangent. I thought how human body is just like a device. Every body part has its function if it doesn’t work properly the system goes for a toss.

Last May I was diagnosed with Pleural infection in my right lung. Pleural is the protective cover over the lung. Water had accumulated between the pleural and the lung, the result, a shrunken lung. My doctor assured that it is not a big deal, I will recuperate very soon as I did not smoke or drink and didn’t do drugs either. He advised me to do pranayam and complete the entire course of medicine for nine months without a break. According to him yoga would be more effective in helping the lung to grow back to its normal size than medicines.

The antibiotics to be taken in the initial months are very strong and can leave you with Arthritis as side effects. Not every body under this medication is affected, but when it comes to me, it is always extreme excitement, so I had to experience arthritis too. Excruciating pain, every joint aches, even the toes. Fortunately I found a very good Yoga teacher and since then have been hooked to yoga. It is now an important part of my life.

What if I had been addicted to any of the substances mentioned by the doctor? Would my body be able to fight the disease and build back its immune system as easily? I am talking of addiction here, not occasional drinking or smoking, lots of people do that and still maintain a healthy lifestyle.

Life Sucks! Life is a Bitch! Life is a fucking whore! Surprisingly I have heard these expressions from people who are addicted to one or all of these substances. These things supposedly help keep frustration at bay ironically these were the most frustrated people I ever came across. One body to last a lifetime best you can do is take good care. Give yourself a chance. Life is Beautiful.

Bragging Session

2006-06-26T17:42:00.000+05:30

I took the Super IQ test on Tickle.com. This is what they say about me.

Ahem!

The way you think about things makes you a Creative Theorist. This means you are a highly intelligent, complex person. You are able to process information of nearly every kind with ease, using both creativity and analysis to make sense of the world. Compared to others you also have a very rich imagination.

How did we determine that your thinking style is that of a Creative Theorist? When we examined your test results further, we analyzed how you scored on 8 dimensions of intelligence: spatial, organizational, abstract reasoning, logical, mechanical, verbal, visual and numerical. The 3 dimensions you scored highest on combine to make you a Creative Theorist. Only 6 out of 1,000 people have this rare combination of abilities.

I haven't stopped wondering why am I still not famous.

2006-06-24T22:38:00.000+05:30

Maxi sent me the lyrics. Never heard the song, but nice lyrics.

Aqueous Transmission - Song by Incubus

I'm floating down a river
Oars freed from their holes long ago
Lying face up on the floor of my vessel
I marvel at the stars
And feel my heart overflow

Further down the river

Two weeks without my lover
I'm in this boat alone
Floating down a river named emotion
Will I make it back to shore
Or drift into the unknown

Further down the river

I'm building an antenna
Transmissions will be sent when I am through
Maybe we'll meet again further down the river
And share what we both discovered...
Then revel in the view

Further down the river

2006-06-23T18:02:00.000+05:30

Ogie my twin friend, back from his honeymoon called, spoke with him for 45 minutes, and spoke for some while with his wife too. So things are still the same Ogie and me, still can talk without having to worry about the fact that he is now married. This thing about men and women cannot be friend’s is so silly. Whoever came up with this idea must be a psycho, born and brought up in Bihar.
Most of my closest friends are guys, going by the above mentioned rules I should have told each one of them, sorry though we get along so well and care for each other and will stand by each other no matter what, we cannot be friends cause you are men and I am a woman. Do genders apply to this relationship called friendship? To me my friends are just people with whom I get along and like to spend time with. Them being men or a woman never registers with me unless someone or some incident highlights it.
Once out of the blue Dim asked me, Sir you won’t talk to me or meet me once you get married?
I said why I would do that.
He said you don’t understand, things change after marriage, your husband will not like you talking to guys.
Why will I marry such man?
You say that now but you will meet a guy and fall in love and do whatever he says.

I went home from work and told my amma what Dim had said. She said, why will you marry such a man?
I smiled.
I know where I inherited my attitude from.

An Unsettling Quiet

2006-06-20T10:16:00.000+05:30

It seems a quiet has settled…………….on me. I haven’t taken an oath to silence it’s just that I don’t feel like talking to put it elaborately I don’t feel like expressing. So many thoughts in my mind but I don’t feel like putting words to them. Words somehow seem to be incapable of expressing my self.
Umpteen times during the past few days I have tried to write down the things in my head, but just not been able to. Thoughts are not translating into words.
It reminds me of when I was younger and an absolute introvert, I could never bring myself to talk to people, primarily because I was shy (still am) and secondly I never liked sharing my thoughts. Am I going back in circles, I guess.
What is disconcerting is it is not the kind of quiet where you enjoy your own company. It is a very unsettling quiet. I need to reclaim my mind.

Making A Wish - Be Precise

2006-06-19T20:19:00.000+05:30

A woman, just divorced comes to Italy on vacation to get away from the hurt and disappointment. One day travelling through a bus she sees a house and falls in love with it. Fortunately the house is on sale. She decides to buy it, somehow managing to raise enough money, the agent helping her to get a good deal.

Her best friend is surprised at her decision to live in a new country away from home, but the woman has made her choice. The estate agent and she become friends, she confides in him that she is lonely and wishes for marriage, children and a family in her house.

She meets a man, they are attracted to each other, she is happy. She is once again heart broken when she realizes the man is married and she was nothing but an amusing fling for him.

A young man who had worked in her house is in love with a rich farmer’s daughter. The farmer is against the alliance as the boy is poor and does not have a family. She adopts the young man as her son and thus a wedding takes place in her house. She now has a family

Her best friend who is pregnant decides to leave her home and come and live with this woman. There is a birth of a child in her house.

The agent brings to her notice that her wish has been granted, a wedding and a child in the house and a family to live with. She is happy with how things have turned out but this is not how she had wished it to be.

judaa ho gayaa main

2006-06-11T14:50:00.000+05:30

I read a poem on a blog today, it was about parting, breaking off with the person you love and your attempts to move on but at the same time unable to reconcile with the fact and continue to hope that things will work out. It reminded me of one of my all time favourite song by Mohd. Rafi from the film Hakeeqat. Here's the lyrics.

main ye sochkar uske dar se uthaa thaa
ke vo rok legi manaa legi mujhko

havaaon mein lahraataa aataa thaa daaman
ke daaman pakadkar bithaa legi mujhko

kadam aise andaaz se uth rahe the
ke aavaaz dekar bulaa legi mujhko

magar usne na rokaa
na usne manaayaa
na daaman hi pakadaa
na mujhko bithaayaa
na aavaaz hi dii
na vaapas bulaayaa
main aahistaa aahistaa badhtaa hi aayaa
yahaan tak ke us se judaa ho gayaa main
judaa ho gayaa main

2006-05-27T20:25:00.000+05:30

A mother crying, her son consoling her, "Papa will be fine soon".
Some holding back tears, some writing the name of their respective god in notebooks. Some meditating on beads. Each praying in his own way to postpone the inevitable end.

Immortal Egos

2006-05-26T12:28:00.000+05:30

The recent reports of all and sundry in Gujarat wanting Aamir khan to apologize for some stand he took, took me back to an episode during my first job.

I worked as a housekeeper for a five star hotel in Mumbai and on that particular day was assigned supervision of floor 2,3 and 4. In the suite 202 we mostly had this regular guest Mr. Panicker. Now regular guests are treated as gods, if they say green is blue then that’s how it is.

On that day there was a complaint from 202 that the AC was not working. Everybody that includes the Executive Housekeeper (HOD), senior housekeeper, the resident manager (Dr.Mamik, nobody knew why he was called a doctor, but he insisted so everybody went along) and the head of maintenance were in the room pacifying the esteemed guest when I was summoned.

The moment I entered the room, the attack of the killer resident manager, he wanted to know how I cleared the room when the AC was not working and I should apologize to Mr. Panicker for the inconvenience caused. All I said was when I checked the room the AC was working absolutely fine. The HOD was startled she had assumed I would very meekly apologize for something that was not my fault and they will in addition give some complimentary services to the muftkhor and everything will be fine. But with my retort I managed to put them in a fix, at the moment one of the engineers came and informed that the AC was working fine when I had checked it, so it was not my fault.

How large must be the size of such people’s ego. Such self-importance, how vain and how stupid and how human.

In Broken Images

2006-04-15T18:59:00.000+05:30

He is quick, thinking in clear images;
I am slow, thinking in broken images.
He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images.
Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.
Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact;
Questioning their relevance, I question the fact.
When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
When the fact fails me, I approve my senses.
He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broken images.
He in a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confusion.

This poem was in my exam paper today.
It's just too good, amazing clarity of thoughts.

You only live twice

2006-04-03T10:42:00.000+05:30

You only live twice or so it seems,
One life for yourself and one for your dreams
You drift through the years and life seems tame,
Till one dream appears and love is its name.

And love is a stranger who'll beckon you on,
Don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone.

This dream is for you, so pay the price.
Make one dream come true, you only live twice.

And love is a stranger who'll beckon you on,
Don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone.

This dream is for you, so pay the price.
Make one dream come true, you only live twice.

By COLDPLAY

Reliving the Past

2006-04-01T11:38:00.000+05:30

Those nights of pineapple, strawberry, chocolate, and black-current ice-creams at seven-eleven.

Those nights of delicious beef kebabs and parathas from Kurla.

Those nights of scouring the streets for late night eateries.

Those nights of troubling me insane.

Those nights of singing, ‘Yaaro Dosti Badi hi haseen hai…..’

Those nights of endless wait for Maxi.

Those nights of flying in the sumo.

Those nights of being alive.

Dim, Viyer, Savs, Mitz, Maxi, VJ, Ogie, Rascal - love you guys. You are the best.
Google baba will take care of the rest.