Dark Art Studio

May 28, 2009, Thursday.

Utopia: "You'll call them up and take an appointment?"

Me: "Ok cool. I am SO excited!"

Utopia: "Sorry I am making you do all the dirty work..."

Me: "Shut up. It's ok. I'll see you on Saturday."

Saturday June 30, 2009. 

10:00 AM

Utopia: "I got an appointment for 2:30. I will see you at Hard Rock Cafe at 1. We'll go from there."

Me: "Ok cool, one last time at HRC. I'll see you there."

1:00 PM over SMS

Me: I've reached. I am sitting outside. 

Utopia: I am stuck in traffic...so sorry.

Me: It's ok. come.

1:20 PM 

Utopia: "Hieee!"

Me: "Hiee!!!!"

Utopia: "We'll quickly catch a smoke and go."

Me: "No!! I haven't eaten a thing since morning. We'll eat."

Utopia: "Oh! look who's hungry, ok we'll eat and go."

An order for a veg sandwich (for me) and Chicken Pita Pockets (for her) was placed. We finished less than half of our servings and decided we could eat no more. It was time to go hunting for some Plot No. 34/11, Fraser Town. 

After 10 mins of non-sensical giggling about tying scarves like dacoits and behaving 100 pc puneri and after pretending to be hot chics wearing hot sun glasses and drooling over a nice looking boy in a Yamaha bike, we realized we have no idea where we are headed to. 

We were clueless about the place so was the auto driver. After having looked for Polytechnique college instead of a Polyclinic and after walking down the same street a couple of times (with some ATM mishaps en route) we figured out the place and reached a house with a small studio tucked somewhere in the corner. There were people smoking ciggs, drawing immaculate pictures of devils turning angels and intestines popping out of mouths and similar complex things. We had reached Dark Art Tattoo studio. 

We waited there burning time (quite literally) ridiculing a crazy woman who wanted to look hip n full of life with her sidey clothes and sidi-er tattoos. Some SMSes were exchanged bitching about her and praising the 'guy in a white tee' (since we couldn't talk loud.) We even thought we could talk in Bengali (her) and Oriya (me) since the 2 languages are so similar. We followed not a word of what the other person said. haha!

We spoke to people waiting to get tattoos done and we spoke to people doing them. We got bored. It was close to 4 o clock. We took out our iPods - I started with Kelly Clarkson's Addicted and she started with Plain White Ts Hey there Delilah. We moved on to RHCP and Matchbox 20 and 3 doors down. And I realized I had to save whatever little charge was left in the iPod for my long ride to the airport later in the evening. Now we started listening to her iPod with one ear fone each. And we heard 'ain't no sunshine.' 

Utopia: "I am my own sunshine."

Me: "hmm... good. I am glad."

Me: "you know what will my tattoo be?"

Utopia: "Get the Harvard logo done" 

Me and Utopia: "hahahaha" for about 5 mins.

Me: "No. I will get a post-it size note pinned up with a message on it - I want to own all the books in the world." Like this: 

Me: "I was dying when she was clearing blackheads off me in the parlor. I will get myself a tattoo it seems. huh."

And we giggle again.

And then the skinny, drug addict looking boy came to draw the outline on Utopia - for she was the one getting the tattoo. (I will leave the description for her to write on her blog.) Yayy! It was finally her turn to get etched in ink - for the second time! 

A skinny, 'I'll-be-dead-in-3mins' looking girl started to work the driller on her and the ease with which Utopia sat there talking and smiling was awesome. In the middle of it, I got a call saying the flight is to land at 6 45 and not 7 45 - which meant I had to run. We exchanged quick hugs, knowing we will not see each other again for the next few months or maybe even years - who knows. 

I took an auto and I could not believe I have met this girl exactly 4 times and that she knows me like I know myself. I could not believe my heart will skip a beat even thinking about having her gone and not having her weave dreams for me. 

Utopia, I just hope it is the end for a new beginning. This tattoo date was one of the most memorable days of my life for more reasons than one. As you board the train to a far off land today, I know that we will meet again - probably with some dreams from the many we have, having come true. I hope we will giggle just as much and I hope we will have some more castles to build in the air. 

"and if our hands meet in another dream we'll build another tower in the sky."

What do you think about love? Important and Irrational or Not-so-important and rational?

I am most definitely not the right person to talk about love in the truest sense of it, the kinds they talk about in books -  considering I've always been in 'walk-in-walk-out' relationships (romantically) and I value my platonic relationships wee bit too much to be able to write about them.

 

But given the fact that most of the world lives in a practical world of love where one's choice of lover is based on a complex matrix of compatibility, or in more crude terms - convenience. Career and family compatibility, value-system compatibility, status compatibility, tolerance-compatibility, sense of settlement compatibility and a whole bunch of such factors. I very well understand (and respect the fact)  that these factors vary in importance for different people but the crux remains the same - it  is the long term compatibility based on ones limits and limitations.

 

I am a staunch believer of this matrix. Only because I have one life and I want to spend it living completely rather than loving mindlessly. As long as I can peacefully co-exist with certain constants like respect and space, I think the love et al falls into place. I've never heard of real Romeo-Juliet /Laila-Majnu/Heer-Ranjha couples. Honestly,  the real-life couples with most dramatic and awww(e)-inspiring stories are based on the (not-so-simple) compatibility/comfort level matrix! So why bother much?

 

Anyway why did I go explaining this? Because each time I read a book that describes love in a very heroic way, it leaves me bewildered. When passages talk about love with such passion, I am left wondering what it must be like to be in such love. (Disclaimer: I don't want to be in such destructive love where lovers can kill or die or go mad or disown or forget-it-all. I am happy feeling jitters and butterflies every now and then choosing to walk in if it is nice and walk out if it was too much hassle for the 2 of us!)

 

I've always written down those passages (among other beautiful passages) from books into my little red-colored spiral note-book --- to use it as a text for reference. I've been an utter failure in understanding/imbibing those feelings but I have taken the pain to type them out and put them up in my new blog, here. 

That is because they sound amazing and make for some literary delight. Some of these stories are brave, some docile, some plain-romantic, some meaningless - but they are just beautiful pieces of text. In fact some of them are close to real feelings too! (I am not a die-hard romantic but girl-enough to feel special things!)

 

If any of you can relate to the passages out there, do leave a comment! Hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did!

 

(Clearly, my own answer to the question in the title is - important and rational)

 

IPL 2009

We are 3 people who live in this house. And when the 3 people are cricket fanatics supporting 3 different teams in a breathtaking tournament, the tension is inevitable.

 

After 6 straight victories, little did Mr. Brother-in-law know that supporting Bangalore Royal Challengers would only break his heart. Pseudo-fan that Ms Sister is, she was quite clear she wanted her ever favorite Sehwag's team to be picking up the trophy, but alas. And me, I had the gumption to support the worst team last year - Deccan Chargers. 'GO CHARGERS!!!' has been my mantra in the last 60 odd days.

 

I wonder if it was mockery or support, but Mr bro-in-law bought me a Deccan Chargers Pin-up badge that I would wear for every single match. Today was special. With sister's team having to bite the dust in the semis, it was a battle of nerves for me and Mr Bro-in-law. And how my team emerged from the ashes to be a proud, jubilant team - is just history.

 

Considering how I fall for things like intellect and talent, there was no doubt I was developing a soft corner for a few players in my team. Little did I know that this soft corner will turn into almost obsessive  love for both of them. I write this post, feeling terrible - because my heart is resting with 2 people instead of 1 - and my conscience is battling with me. I have decided that whoever plays a better game in T20 World Cup, gets a definitive place. Until then, I have to live with the guilt of loving Rohit Sharma and RP Singh in scarily equal measures.

 

As I sleep tonight with the badge pinned very close to my heart, I will think of Andrew Symonds - THE man, Adam Gilchrist - THE leader, Rohit Sharma - whose presence on the field gave me goose bumps and last (and sure as hell not the least)  RP Singh - whose calm yet broad and clear smiles are probably the most potent thing in the world. 

CBFC Indian Rating U/A - make sure you are 16+ or are reading this under Parental Guidance.

I made use of my 2nd most fundamental right (the 1st being the right to cast my vote) after 2 full months. The right to visit the salon. Yes. As a female citizen of a free democratic country, I see going to the salon and getting some excess hair removed and getting a massage every now and then as a fundamental right (and also a duty towards fellow citizens of both sexes :P )

I strongly believe in posting stories that are for 'family reading/viewing' and are not meant for audiences that are 18+ of age. But this one experience has forced me to break the rule and post a U/A rated post.

I went to the salon today to get a 'facial clean-up.' (That's different from a facial, for all the male species reading this.) To my utter amusement and surprise, I had a male staff member to give me the 'service.' I have gotten hair cuts and pedicures by male staff at these unisex salons but never a facial service which requires you to change into their rather skimpy and ill-fitting robes. (and so sort of makes it embarrassing to lie down on a single bed with the A/C blowing you off.) Never mind, I agreed to do the ritual, get out of my t-shirt and into the robe. The guy comes in and I am surprised. I have no clue why would such a cute/hot guy work in a salon and not model for Yamaha. Or Gillette.

So he says nothing but (the ritual is all this small talk between your salon assistant and you which almost leaves the 2 of you as best of friends at the end of those 2 hours of waxing, threading, clean-up and pedicure.) "Please lie down." It was strange and sexy in a very hollywood-ish manner. His hands started working up my neck to my chin and back to my neck and this time till my cheeks and then back to my neck and to my nose and then back to my neck and to my forehead - in slow, soft and circular motions. It was as if he was testing me and my patience by not touching my temples and eyes - which are the most relaxing parts when you get a facial massage. And when he finally reached my temples and eyes - something shot through me and sent a shiver through my spine.

He then went across to the other end of the room and this time I did not trust him to come back and do the routine but instead leave me wondering if I want to say a yes or a no. But no, he went across to the other end to fetch a big white clean towel. He says "Ma'am, you are shivering." Damnit, with those fingers and the darn A/C you think I was capable of doing anything better but shiver? Never mind, I threw a smile at him with my closed eyes. I was acting like a sly cat stealthily sipping milk hoping nobody is watching!

Now was the time to remove black heads (an utterly painful process where they squeeze your life out through your nose.) and I was dreading this. (I always do - with or without the guy!) He could see the strain on my facial muscles and said "Relax, it won't hurt much." And he took charge of my nose in a way that came across as the manliest thing ever. He did the due and said - "Here, you are done!" and the sound seemed to come from almost my nose! Hang on, it was this sly guy, so close to my nose, telling me it was all done. And I held my breath and said "thank you." when I could think of a million other variants to the acknowledgement 'thank you.'

He then put a pack on my face. By now you are supposed to be so relaxed that your face just starts glowing out of the relaxation and not exactly because of all the zillion pastes they apply on you. But today, I was more strained than I had been during my Std 10 Boards! I had clenched my fist so tight all through the last 30 - 40 mins that my nails had poked into my palm. He then said "I'll be back in 15" and he left. The way I slept after that was as if I was active on that single bed with some other activity and not a facial. I was tired of all the strong musk and the fingers working across those few inches.

I woke up when I felt those fingers, again, on my neck, cleaning the dried up face pack with a wet sponge. I was praying to God that the process ended before I could self-accuse myself of mentally molesting a poor salon assistant. I am not sure if it did. Because when I saw my face in the mirror after he left, I was sure as hell glowing ten times better than one would with an afterglow.

We're only human.

I am suffering from writer's block. So publishing an old draft. I do not believe in such long posts, but since it is there, you might as well read it. :) 

She was full of life, boisterous, well above average to look at and lived in Bombay. She loved dancing, laughed like she is on dope and danced at the slightest chance she could get. She finished college and started working. She had tonnes of friends and a loving family. 

And then there was a boy. Her brother's friend. A small town boy, blessed with a very very sharp mind, extremely ambitious and had graduated from the country's elitest educational institute. She met the boy often since he had rented out the apartment that her family owned. And he was her brother's best friend. And he fell for all the things in para 1. He begged of her to marry him, she was 2 yrs older than him. She did not feel romantically attracted to him, but she dint feel that way for anyone at that point in time. So she chose the known devil instead of the one an arranged marriage would get her.

And they tied the knot. They, just ike most newly weded couples, seemed like the happiest people in the world. They shifted base to Dubai - the land of Gold - black and yellow. They minted money but missed family. And so decided it was time for him to pursue higher eductation. Not to forget the girl was doing better than the boy at work and had managed saving a lot more. 

They came back to India and he joined the country's elitest Management Institute in an uptown place in South India. She was pregnant with their first son. She lived in an apartment close to his sister's place. And he lived on campus. She was funding his higher education. 

He made new friends who took precedence over everyone and everything in his life.  There was also a girl in the new friend circle. Life's like that - a wife finds her husband's dearest chic friend as not the best thing in the world. But this girl knew she was not so petty and that she will not hate this new girl. Friends are just friends after all and she knew she had the supreme position in his life. 

But the friendship became more than just that - ot so it seemed from the many emails that Mrs. Wife bumped into. She fell sick - asthma attacks leading to steroid shots, a baby to take care of and a rocking marriage. This took 5 years of her life - straight. Sleeplessness, sickness and the baby. 

Husband and wife moved back to Bombay and so did the new girl. She even landed up a job for herself in the same organization as the boy's to add to the wife's misery.

And when she finally decided that she'd better be getting herself a new job - to keep her mind away from what's been happening and in the worst case scenario - if they were to split, she would have the means to raise her child single handedly. 

But she had sent her husband for an MBA, she was just a post-graduate and had touched number 30 as her age. Jobs weren't easy to come in Bombay. So she compromised. She started letting go of things. She shut her eyes to the obvious. She was done with arguing with her husband about what the long phone calls, emails and gifts meant. She was done with listening to the same answer - "It's nothing! She is just a friend for God's sake!" 

And the friend is now reluctantly getting married. With wife at the hosptial out of yet another ailment, the husband still decides to travel 500 miles to her wedding. Priorities. 

The wife knew her husband loved her and not the friend. But it was difficult to see it. His actions were not indicating it. May be she was thinking wishfully. She was risking it all again - she was pregnant with her second baby. And she knew with 2 children and no job, there was no looking back for her in life. She had to make peace with herself. And with her husband's friend. She knew she was jealous and reading too much between the lines. But she couldn't help it. She was but human. 

* This is a true story. The friend' marriage, they say, has not consummated. The wife is busy putting a smiling facade and taking care of 2 lovely boys. The husband, now a father, beams with pride each time he sees his sons and seems to thank his wife each time he looks at her - for being such a stoic through 8 years. 

Rights and Duties go hand in hand.

This is what most of us did over the last few months/years - 

We blogged and bitched about blasts in Jaipur, Bangalore Gujarat, the economic melt down, about Mumbai attacks, and about our ever favorite topics - Shiv Sena, Ram Sene and communism. With or without blogs, we still bitched a lot about Fodder scam, Tehelka, Bofors, Naxals, LTTE, Godhra, Babri Masjid, Ayodhya, Flight hijacks, safety slip ups etc etc. 

We shouted out to the world about how open minded and awesome our generation is. 

We felt proud that we are aware citizens who speak our mind out and do not mind protesting, creating focus groups etc. We bitched non stop with our pride intact and concluded event after event that we need a better leader. 

Until someone someday shook us and said - 

"Bob, the farmers and the slum dwellers go and vote. Not you. So bastard/bitch just shut the f*** up and live with it. And if you can't, go and cast your damn vote." (If no one ever said this to you - then consider me telling this to you on behalf of every single awakened Indian citizen.) 

To cut the long story short - if you are a blogger or even remotely tech savvy and happen to come across this - I will urge you to get your voter ID card and cast your vote. If you thought the entire process is painfully long, there is www.jaagore.com which not only makes the process just 5 mins long, but also helps you get rid of a few voting myths. 

I have a voter ID card and I voted for the state elections last year. Elections are around the corner again and I will vote again. And I will vote each time there is an election in my country - so that I can write about issues that matter to me and not feel guilty. I don't want to carry the burden of being a poor citizen. It is a big weight to carry. I am a proud daughter, sister, friend and a proud individual. I want to be a proud citizen too. 

I also know that casting your vote is just step-1. Step 2 probably is trying to clean the nation by getting our hands into the muck - Yes, to contest elections. It might take us about 3 decades to cleanse and purify this mess. But at least we will be a part of the change, a catalyst and will give a happy nation to our future generations.

If you are reading this post, I will love it if you leave your comment and tell me if you

a. have a voters ID card (if not, you know that www.jaagore.com is the place to go.)

b. will cast your vote this year. If not, then why. 

I understand very well that it is my most fundamental right and my most important duty - to vote. I will fight until my last breath for the right to vote and will perform my duty as reliogiously as I brush my teeth. 

P.S - A special note for my non-Indian readers - This post stands true for you too, as long as you come from a democratic country where you have the right to vote. After all, if all the nations of the world have good leaders, we can all peacefully co-exist. 

A Social Retard - Me.

So it seems I've found the right word for all these posts about my lonely friend-less life.

 

The word is called 'Social Retard.' (Applause!!)

 

The citation goes - This individual has received a degree in 'Sciences of Social Impediment' and is called a Social Retard.

 

Before I go any further, I'd like to give due credit to the source of this word and thank him for introducing this powerful, all-encompassing word in my rather retarded social dictionary.

 

Yes, I am a graduate in Social Retard sciences. How does one get the degree? It is simple.

 

Step 1 - If you are reading this post either on a weekend or when evening has gone a few shades darker - then you already clear the entrance exam.

 

Step 2 - Think about the days  you were busy doing something else at this hour of the day. (If you never were busy doing anything other than reading/blogging/watching tv and similar solitary acts, then congratulations! You are a bloody born Social Retard! Go get your degree printed on black with Gold.)

 

If you were busy some other day at this time watching a movie with friends/having coffee with them or sipping beer/watching porn/packing your bags to travel or any such exciting activity then you can move to step 3.

 

Step 3 - Ask yourself - "will I be doing this sometime soon? Maybe tomorrow or maybe in a week's time? If your answer is yes, then I am sorry to say you cant even get the certificate. You are socially active.

 

Step 4 - If your answer was no and you went in to this day-dream-ish mode, thinking of all the nice times and how you haven't had them in so long, then congratulations! You have passed the certificate course in being a Social Retard.

 

Behold! Step 5 is for degree holders!

 

Step 5 - If you are continuously thinking of the fun times long gone and of how this blog/web world is your only friend. If you identify more as 'unscrupulous hot hunk' or 'worldofmine' or 'morbidthoughts' or 'techjunkie' and similar such names then yes, you are a big social retard. If you are done and over with missing your friends and have accepted that you won't have any real offline friends to go for a drink with and your only connection with 'real' people is through the phone or facebook then woohoo! You are a graduate in Social Retard Sciences. Like me. 

Muthalik FAQ

How many pink chaddis did Muthalik receive?

 

About 50K… and do not forget, that's a small fraction of the actual mass of the forward, pub going women.

 

What is Muthalik's reaction?

 

He must be thinking of selling the chaddis off, but no one wants to buy chaddis with cuss words written all over with black marker-pens!

 

Wasn't he gonna send Pink Sarees?

 

Dude! He never thought he'd have to send out 50K odd sarees!!! His 'sene' will need to sell itself off to pay for so many sarees!

 

What will he do now?

 

Unable to sell the chaddis, he must have given out to his sainiks to distribute them to their girl friends. His next step is to sue all of us 'loose, pub going and forward women' (jokes jokes all the way!!)

 

Will the loose women like being sued?

 

Hell yes! I  I'd love to have in my name such a law suit and maybe even be jailed for a few days with pub going, loose and forward women like me. :D It will be one helluva party!! 

 

What if they manage to shut all the pubs in cities?

 

Tell me, will Rihaana stop spinning music? Will Kingfisher stop producing beer? Will Bose and Creative stop producing Bass Booster Speakers? Will we forget how to light a cigarette? Will parents of our rich friends sell off their farm houses? Long live house-parties!!!

  

So what’s the conclusion?

 

Even if all the pubs were to shut, Beach parties, river side parties, rave parties, farm house parties etc which have been going on since eternity, on the sly, will continue being there. We will continue the pub culture even without the pubs and we will continue being loose, cheap and wasted. We like it like that.

 

Mind it, we will still manage getting married to these really awesome men at age 27, quit smoking and drinking, and breed children who will continue our legacy of being cheap, forward, loose, drunkard pub-goers.

 

Tell me Mr. Muthalik what will you do of us? Your 'sene' is just too small in size for us wasted pub goers. Go do whatever you can.  

Incredible India

So as I said some people inspire us to write about somethings. Gale inspired me to write about India with her post about the Spanish guy who has her dream job sings a Hindi song for her. 

I have been thinking of SOOO many things that I would write once I actually start writing, but I am finding this task so daunting. Really, a blogpost can't ever do justice to the myriad things this country has to offer. Please note this is not to glorify the country but to state facts the way they are - the good things are great and the bad things are horrible. 

And that is where the beauty lies. We never have a dull day in India. 

I don't think I can go writing endless prose so I will just list highlights in contrast. Go Google them to learn more - 

Solitude and aroma therapy to Beer and hip-hop

Pashmina to Khadi

Vada-pav to Idli Sambar and momos to Dhokla

Jet airways to Garib Rath

Mother Teresa to Ramalinga Raju

Bollywood to underworld

We do not easily break marriages. We persevere and when we do break them, we do not need therapists. We have a strong family system for shock absorption. 

Our children stay with parents until the kids have grand children. 

Auto rickshaw wala will dupe you for 5 extra bucks and will take you 20 miles for free when you have forgotten your wallet at home. 

We go to the west to make money and we form an Indian community there where you will get sambar powder and garam masala. 

We have abundant sunshine and we do not need tanning salons. We are obsessed with Shahnaz Hussain's fairness creams! 

South-Indians can't speak Hindi without the accent and North-Indians can't differentiate between the the 4 south-indian states. They will bitch about each other and will fight with families for an inter-caste marriage. 

Fair girls will color their hair blonde, the dusky ones will wear brown lipstick. They can both sport short skirts and sarees with equal grace. They will sizzle in parties and in pujas. 

Guys in India will use fairness creams and will hate to be called metro sexual. They think its gay. They will wax their chest and will glare at you to see a pink razor in the girl's bathroom. 

We speak a million languages and dialects. Students in Pune were seen dancing on a telugu soundtrack for well over a year. Now I call this mindlessly beautiful integrity. 

We have huge scams - Fodder, arms, share market and off late IT. Millions of rupees have gone donno where. Laws are archaic and judiciary system is slow. Cops are lazy and we have a new trend of citizen jornalists who now bitch with a vengeance. 

Your friend will go to Kanha and see 5 tigers. You will go and see deers only. If you started at an unauspicious timing - you will see dogs only. 

You will be happy eating at Delhi haat and the next thing you know someone pinched you on your butt. You will be seeing beautiful paintings at an exhibition and will realize the centre piece is of a French artist, which is not half as great but is there because he is French. We are obsessed with firangs. 

Oil prices will kill us but we won't use public transport. When we do, we are not saving fuel but just saving time. Indian middle class still puts money in National Saving Certificates while Mallya buys islands after islands. Pepsi will sell us nimbu pani (yes, its the latest news) We anyway already sell Cobra beer to the Irish.

Finally a girl's perspective as to why we almost never want to marry a non-Indian. Because we have awesome guys here. We do not need to look elsewhere! 

A North-Indian boy - Extremely good looking 8 times out of 10 a disaster when he speaks. But he is just so good looking you don't care how he sounds. 

A south-Indian boy - Company t-shirt, laptop, beer belly. Not even remotely attractive. But when he talks, you just listen. He knows it all and is an awesome orator. Now you don't care how he looks. 

A westerner - Looks fine, talks fine, decently educated but will suddenly do one such thing (like talk loudly or belch after a meal) and you are put off. You go home and decide to ignore it. The package is great and you leave the belch behind. 

An eastern boy - Is either at IIT or almost an IAS officer. Or plays the guitar like a dream. Or knows Shakespere and Othello like they are his neigbors. You don't care now if he belches or looks like a mess. You will gladly go with him to the tea-estates or to the crowded streets of Calcutta. 

(Indian boys can now stop feeling happy. I might just be bitching about you in the next post!)

There is so much more to write but my common sense says people will now lose focus from here on. So I will break my love into different posts to retain reader's attention. 

Mwah to my stinky, sticky, corrupt, mad, colorful, tasty, hot, fairness-obsessed country. 

Myu wrote about finishing 2 years away from family, on her own. This reminded me I was gonna write about finishing 6 months of coming back to family after 8 years of a nomadic life!! Myu is right when she says we learn so much when we are on our own. We are well past learning from friends, teachers, parents. We make our mistakes and we learn how to stand up on our own. 

When I look back at my 8 years, all I can think of is the beautiful people my life has given me. Some are still with me and by me whereas some are not. But every single person I met in those 8 years has added immense value to my life with many bittersweet experiences. I can't imagine the me I am today, without even one of those many people I met. Even if their contribution in my life was a night at a local club, it was still something to cherish. 

All that I am today is a vivid fragment of all those people. They have helped me shape my thoughts, helped me define a lot of woolly terms like ego, love, respect, success, failure, fotgiveness, thrill, adventure, limits, limitations. The list can go on. 

I learnt a very crucial concept of cultural tolerance in those years. Today I do not identify myself as a South Indian or a North-indian, a Hindi or a Telugu. But I think of myself as a human being. I think of myself as an integral part of this world. Someone whose existence has a purpose. 

I think of myself as a giver and a receiver. I know that I have to live for myself as much as I have to live for my loved ones and for the world at large. I feel happy about the fact that I am neither self-obsessed nor am I wary of my needs. I accept my rights and realize my duties. 

But the biggest thing they've taught me is that one should not nurture the quality of 'hatred.' Today I take pride in saying that I may disapprove of what people say or do, but I do not disapprove of people themselves or do not hate anybody. I am at peace with every single thought in my mind - at least most of the time, if not always. And sure as hell, it is one of those many people who help me find that peace. 

I am an independent woman* who takes care of her own wants and tantrums while being a rather decent daughter, sister, friend and all the other roles I willingly play. I know how to have crazy fun and I know when to draw my lines. I know when to bend and I know when I should stop so as to not stoop too low. I know how to live and let live. I know when to be by people and I know when to leave them alone. 

After all this, I am very aware that this a tip of the ice berg and that there's a lot more to come, to learn and to be. I am very sure I will continue being a good daughter, sister, friend etc etc and will eventually be a good life-partner, mother and a successful professional while making sure the little crazy girl in me who loves to jump walls, continues smiling. 

This is a thank-you note for all the people I have known until this day of my life and for making me the proud yet humble human being that I am. Love ya'll. :) 

* I struck off the word 'girl' and replaced it with 'woman' - and I feel good about it. 

P.S: I hope I am not coming across as someone who thinks of herself as 'Perfect.' I know I am far from perfect but I am at peace with it. I am not anxious about my imperfections and I know I will try to be a better person every passing day!

PP reminded me its been 5 days since my last post. Yes, it has been a frustrating week. Snippets of my diary rearranged below to look like a blog-post. I've been preoccupied with the following -

 

1. Economical meltdown - The entire economic cycle is right in front of my eyes. I am not a witness of the phenomenon but a victim of it. Individuals are cringing to spend money, organizations are not recruiting and the jackpots of one era (read: Finance and IT) are the latest wells of misery.

 

I am a part of the rut. I am educated but not educated enough. I quit a well paying job with a giant organization at the wrong timing. I had not anticipated the melt down. I now work for a start-up and I have not received salary in the last 2 months. I have long bills which are being foot by my parents, who themselves live an almost hand-to-mouth existence. (An honest public sector class 1 officer has perks which do not turn into cash and a salary which has not been revised in the last 8 years. My mother is a home-maker. )

 

2. Slumdog Millionaire - People were hysteric. Shobha De and the likes wrote posts everywhere about the movie. Friends on facebook were swearing by the movie. Internationally, people have another half-baked story on Indian poverty to talk about in their social gatherings. I downloaded it on Torrent (added to piracy) and watched the movie.

 

I thought it was just ok. Love overplayed for a 'slumdog.' In those harsh realities what does a kid know of love? Never mind, he still chases the girl to a happy ending. (extremely happy ending considering IIM grads of my country are almost out of job and a slumdog is a millionaire!)

 

Spit on my face all ye Europeans and Australians. I am an Indian. I need Danny Boyle and Gregory David Roberts  to tell me that Dharavi is bad life.

 

3. www.intent.com and spirituality - I was going through intent.com for a case study in my organization. I have always been spiritually inclined (I do not read self-help books, in case you were wondering.) and so the website caught my attention. I was mesmerized by the content to start with and emailed a whole bunch of friends about it. Ritually, this morning I was reading intents there and someone said - Only perfection exists. There is no imperfection.

 

I thought to myself, when you write self-help books and cash on the millions of depressed people or make sub standard movies, you are in a position to easily look away from this world's imperfections. Watching slumdog millionaire and dubbing it the movie of the year is stupid if you do not know that world is full of slumdogs who will never ever get a full meal, let alone become millionaires. Life is far from perfect, I am not speaking out of frustration but out of conviction.

 

4. Growing older and other insecurities related with it - Less than a month to growing a little more older. I am starting to get crushed by the number game. I am trying damn hard to be the right sister, daughter, friend etc. and I am missing myself more than ever before. I started 2009 being broke and I will start the 24th year of my life being broke too. Friends are settling down and I m becoming restless since I don't want to settle down but want to feel more secure.  blah blah blah.

 

(pre-midlife crisis.) 

Living, Learning, Loving.

How long does it take to fall in love?

 

A moment? A day? A month? No - it takes about 2 years.

 

What does it take to fall in love?

 

The first look? Drunkenness? The first brush of hands? No - It takes months of understanding and hard work.

 

I realized today that it will be 3 years since I've known NB. And I am effortlessly in love with her. And a bunch of other people. Eight of them to be precise. These are the 8 people with whom I have no blood ties and these are the 8 people who are the essence of my living. They all love me back equally or maybe more. These 8 people are my 8 best friends.

 

And when I say I love them, it is quite literally that. It is an ideal love affair with all 8 of them. It is effortless and easy. We give a lot to each other in terms of time and attention. We are physically present (as far as possible) when required, we spend nights over long phone calls counseling, helping, adoring each other.

 

With each of them I can sit quietly in a room all my life and not find the silence awkward. I can call them up at 2:00 am and when they ask "what happened?" I can say "Nothing." Yes, I do not have an ego debating whether I should call/sms/email them. I shout at them and fight with them over nothing. I am not anxious that I'll lose them. I have reached a stage where the love is there and it is established. Nothing can take it away. Then it does not matter how often they call up or if they think of me every minute. They need not call me or think of me often. They love me and I know it.

 

Why am I writing all this? I, like a lot of other people, thought I am not cut out for romantic love. Men don't last more than a few months in my life. I was convinced I am a difficult person to be with. (or too simple and straight forward for some people's liking!) But each time I think this way, I also think of those 8 people. I have invested a lot in those relations.

 

A lot of time and effort and even sleepless nights. We have had bickering fights and misunderstandings and hating certain traits about each other. But we stuck around. Mutually. And it took about 2 to 2.5 years with each one of them to reach this stage of security. I mean there was a lot of love within a couple of months but there was some fear with each argument and there was some effort in keeping the other person happy. The effort is still there, but the effort is painless. It is a part of me to make an effort to keep these people happy and make them feel loved. I willingly do it.

 

For the Nth time in my life, I am convinced - perseverance is all it takes to make a relationship last. Nobody is perfect for anyone. It is just the willingness to live and love the imperfections. 

... of beautiful mornings and unwarranted pleasures.

My phone buzzes at 0630 sharp every morning and goes on snooze thrice. It is for my morning jogs. I haven't gone for a walk/run in the last 10 or so days. Guilt was consuming me all day all these 10 days. This morning I mustered the courage to wake up and opened the door to my balcony. What I then saw was magic.

There was so much fog that I could not see the house opposite ours. Fog was a daily feature in winters when we were kids (I grew up in plains - lot of fog there) But the sight today was breathtaking. There is a view of Idgah Hills from my balcony. I could see lush green trees playing hide and seek from behind the fog. The eye-sore Municipality water tank (yes, those huge cylindrical structures) which stands perched on top if Idgah hills was for a change not seen. Its absence was nice and a little unnerving at the same time.

So, ya, the walk did not happen. Mom won't lemme go out anyway. I still have a bad cold and I would run out of breath in such a moist climate. So I stood there wondering if I wanted to go down and get the camera and capture the beauty. I look back and think I should have done that but I did not want to miss a single moment of such a fresh and beautiful morning. Oh, and my sister gifted me a beautiful cinnamon sack room freshner (real Indian spices in a jute bag that hangs by the window and makes my room smell so heavenly!)which just added to the whole morning freshness.

I went for a hot hot shower and I skipped my morning tea since it is criminal to have chai without its companion on a beautiful morning like today's. Me and dad left for work at around 0845. We cross VIP road and the upper lake (badi jheel) on our way to work. We saw the sun and we were speechless. It was a huge ball of platinum. You did not know if it was hot or cold. But it was mesmerizing. You just wanted to go grab it though you knew you never could. The lake with small boats (which you could see only on straining your eyes) was the prettiest thing I had seen in a long long time. 

Seeing such pretty things is not difficult in India. But seeing it when you are not on vacation, when you are going to work, when life is probably not at its best and when it manages to make you feel so happy - is not day to day life. Such beauty has the power to make you miserable - it can make you miss special people and it can send you on 8X rewind to your favorite vacation at Pushkar or Goa. But none of that happened today. It was so pretty it wanted you to live for the moment.

This blog post is to make up for the lack of photographs for this beautiful morning. I will try and scan one from tomorrow morning's newspaper and put it up here. This morning will stay with me for a long long time.

Read only if you are ready for some heavy dope!

Read this only and only if you have enough time and you are ready for some more ponderables in your already complex life! 

 

I was re-reading Sartre's Being and Nothingness. Just thought I'd punch a few views here and give some people some food for thought.  

1. Choice represents a limit on freedom within an otherwise unbridled range of thoughts. Subsequently, humans seek to flee our anguish through action-oriented constructs such as escapes, visualizations or visions (dreams) designed to lead us toward some meaningful end, such as necessity, destiny, determinism (God), etc. Thus, in living our lives, we often become unconscious actors — Bourgeois, Feminist, Worker, Party Member, Frenchman, Canadian or American — each doing as we must to fulfill our chosen characters' destinies.

2. Many relationships are created by people's attraction not to another person but rather how that person makes them feel about themselves by how they look at them. This is a state of emotional alienation whereby a person avoids experiencing their subjectivity by identifying themselves with "the look" of the other. "The look" of the other found the person's own being. The consequence is conflict. In order to keep the persons own being the person must control the other but must control the freedom of the other "as freedom". These relationships are a profound manifestation of "bad faith" as the for-itself is replaced with the others freedom. The purpose of the participants is not to exist but to keep the other participant looking at them. This system is often mistakenly called love but is in fact nothing more than emotional alienation and a denial of freedom through conflict with the other. 

(I have read this book twice and it has helped me detach myself in a somewhat escapist way. Though against my school of thought, it has helped me gain perspective. It has helped me affirm my own views by discarding the philosophy. I would recommend it if you are ready for some serious reading and microspection.)

The quintessential question

Buds taggged Sree and the one thing that crosses Sree's mind (and the minds of most 23 and above Indian girls) deserves to be addressed on my blog! She says - 

"What's the fixation with marriage and right age vs marriage and right person?"

Exactly! In fact I think it is more like a fixation with "marriage at the right age with the right person"

No, just think about this - how much burden it is, to find the right person at the right time and do the maybe right or not-so-right thing with him/her - that is get married! 

And the right time is also the right time to finish higher education, it is also the right time to save money, to travel, to give love to friends and family, it is the right time to do things to your heart's content and above all, the ONLY right time to discover who you are! Imagine fitting so many things into the same time-slot! What do you do with the rest of your life, damnit! Raise pigs?

And talking about the right person! Now, this is tricky! The definition of right person has changed so often in the past and has become so rigid now, that I have almost given up on finding the 'right' person. I have moved from finding the 'waiter at my college canteen' to 'the guy I spoke to for 3 mins 20 secs on my last drunken night' as being right for me. Beat that. Buds asked me what I want from my guy and I went to such fine details, it looked like I was getting a saree embroidered. She finally said I was unrealistic! If I tell what is it that I want in that 'right' person, you will take 4 seconds to tag me lesbian. So I won't even get there. 

Marriage - The last part of the drama! The time is right* and the boy is right*. Does anybody ever ask is the concept of marriage itself right? No, I am not a commitment phobic or a 'radical-for-the-sake-of-it' trying to doubt the credibility of an age old concept. My parents probably have the most beautiful wedded life in the world - 30 yrs of crazy mad love. And I am very sure I want it too. But that said, do you gamble with something so sacred/beautiful/dangerous and place it on the matrix of time and resources?

Well, I am glad I am faced with all this but in a superbly moderate way and I easily have a couple of years more to seek answers. Phew! 

* Definitions: 

Right time - Varies from 23 to 27 (based on whether you are Punjabi, South Indian, Bengali, Marwari etc.)

Right guy - Slightly more educated than the girl or at least equally well educated. Not too many unmarried siblings. A nice fat pay packet, decent looking (Parents consider moustache a plus point, if they are South Indians.) Again, the definition of right guy varies from region to region. Typically:

Northie - Own business, Owns a swank car and preferably a house of his own. Definitely parental property. 

Southie - "Hello. My name is Raj Shekhar. I am from REC Suratkal/IIT Bombay/IIM Bangalore/ISB/NUS/Kelloggs. I am working for Oracle/Sun Micro systems/Wipro/Infy/Microsoft. I have an elder bro/sis (married, settled in the US) I have a green card/I'll be moving to the States in a couple of months."

And the age old concept of company t-shirt and laptop bag! (Yuck!!)

Disclamier - No offense to anyone here, just penned down the trends I have noticed! 

The Ultimate wish-list!

Damn Jinu's got the dope! People are usually in the quest for knowledge, they yearn to attain nirvana or are on the look out for soul mates. What keeps me terribly busy is the hunt for the right odd job! Hail Mr. Abigail whoever, who has written an entire book on 101 freakin odd jobs - what you need to do one and what do you get out of the job! Now, I have gone through the book with meticulous precision and these jobs have made it through the cut and a brief line about what it is and what's exciting about the job - 

1. Crossing guard - Help school kids and people cross roads on busy streets. Bright Orange vest and the STOP sign. 

2. Bike messenger - Deliver letters and packages. Beijing/Buenos Aires are the places where they are popular. And cycling across the town!!

3. Yard work - Weed, plant, prune, dig, rake, mow, shovel. Isn't that exciting enough?

4. Windshield washer - Clean windshields of cars - Always dreamed of doing this. I love cleaning glass!

5. Human Statue - Stand motionless on streets and look like a statue - Paint myself silver and stand still and observe people. How cool is that!

6. Fire lookout - Stand perched on a tower and look for forest/wild fire - Imagine, stand at a serene place and look for something that will probably never happen!

7. Human scarecrow - Scare off birds from farms - Go to a quaint farm in countryside Europe and chase off little birds. That's life. 

8. Kibbutz - Work alongside Israeli farmers - Israel is the key

9. Snow maker - Make artificial snow at ski resorts - Monotony of the work...!

10. Shell picking - Pick shells on shores - Pretty much an expert and always cried when parents dragged me to go back home. And doing this at Kauai, Hawaii is like dream come true! 

It has been forecast by many that I will suffer from very early midlife crisis and will suffer from a bad one at that. So I am preparing myself for the bad times well en avance! 

There are some more odd jobs that I want to do, which unfortunately do not feature in the book.

1. Scrape paints off walls - Yeah, I know you knew I like this!

2. Florist - Small sharp knife to remove thorns from roses. Beauty! 

3. Truck driver - My hands hurt when I serve food. Delicate wrists. But I will make truck driving come true. 

4. Porter with a moving company - Those people who lug your luggage to your top floor? That'll be me.

5. Phone wire repairs - Land line conked off? I will fix it with those little testers and wires and small instruments.

6. Tent erector - I will erect tents at adventure sport destinations or even at a circus for that matter. Those thick ropes are such a thrill! 

7. Camel caravan nomad - Move with 100 other people with colorful clothes and camels. I will pose for American tourists in Rajasthan and make money! 

8. Motel/strip club Bar tender - Yeah, mix drinks for happy sad drunkards at highway motels or cheesy strip clubs. What fun to be on the other side!

Can't wait to get started!