poetic symmetry

:)

2011-11-10T04:34:00.012+05:30

To the 26 year old boy with the lopsided smile -

There will be all the time in the world..

Just to sit.

Sit

- By Vikram Seth

Sit, drink your coffee here; your work can wait awhile.

You're twenty-six, and still have some life ahead.

No need for wit; just talk vacuities; and I'll

Reciprocate in kind, or laugh at you instead.

The world is too opaque, distressing and profound.

This twenty minutes' rendezvous will make my day:

To sit here in the sun, with grackles all around;

Staring with beady eyes, and you two feet away.

The Answer

2011-11-10T04:24:00.001+05:30

"kyunki tum tum ho, aur main main hoon."

And some questions really are that simple.

2010 - The Year That Was

2011-07-06T19:14:00.005+05:30

One day.. I will find the words for it :)

2010-11-28T04:40:00.000+05:30

"And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure . . . And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!' And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you . . ."

2010-11-13T10:50:00.002+05:30

The scent of wet earth were beginning to be just words in my head.
Thanks for raining.

2010-06-02T08:07:00.006+05:30

Did I tell you I got my hair cut short? After going on and on about waist-length hair for years and cultivating it with my sweat and blood? Well - I did. And now I miss my hair. So this is really non-ideal.

In other news, can the world get more twisted? There is a giant oil spill in progress which, if the butterfly effect is to be believed, (and I believe), will annihilate us all many times over. It will breed ecological imbalances, survival of the most toxin-resistant, cause all sorts of new dieases and somehow filter back to humanity. You heard it hear first. Then, also, one peers into the future and topples over into a double dip recession. Naxals are driving me crazy. The heat is driving everyone crazy. I don't even want to go home in July, now that there is no lovely Bombay monsoon to enjoy. I don't mean to go on and on stating the obvious but look - I am just worried about the world that's all. On top of everything else, all my friends are writing the CFA and life is seriously boring. Guys. Seriously.

Then I am in the thick of making and re-making plans for July, most of which I will have off. More details coming up soon but its going to be legendary. Totally.

I tried vegetarianism and sort of relaxed the binding constraints to be in line with the practical and possible. Now I'm preferentially vegetarian, which loosely defined means, sometimes. It feels quite healthy I must say. (I am ignoring all the chicken I downed at dinner tonight.)

I've switched to wearing only dresses and I look so fine, even if I say so myself.

In the past few days these are the names that have been bestowed upon yours truly -
Mejja
Maggie
Bunty
Piggie
Donkey
Megs
Pinkoo (redux)

You can't make this stuff up. I guess I have a more versatile and colourful personality than I had earlier believed.

Journey

2010-05-25T07:52:00.003+05:30

Life's pretty tricky to pin down, don't you think? It changes every so often. For good. In its entirety. First it was those fleeting years at College. Where did they go? And there was a bit of Allahabad. Then it was IIMB. With a bit of Bombay. Then it was New York. Each chapter complete, a little life in itself, completely different from how I had ever lived before. Never to be repeated. Each a mesh of living memories that will lace my years but life, of course, will change again. Each time in letting go I feel my heart breaking - and then I find that it beats on, stronger for what it has seen and felt. I feel lucky to have been living as hard as I have been living, leaving nothing out. And now its time for the next chapter, time for everything to change all over again, time to let everything go all over again. Begin again. Another little life, lived to the fullest, sealed up and stored away. The past tells me the pain will fade, and Piki tells me I hang on too much anyway. What's next, what's next? These practiced fingers will pack up my little mess of a home. These legs will find another footing on new-old soil. These memories will never die but never again be this alive. I'm going to start another chapter, another life, a life I have never lived before but one that I'm finally ready for. And I'm going to find myself, all over again.

Moments

2010-04-12T08:40:00.008+05:30

Let me remember them as they were..

'Inoteca's wine cellar, among my favourite spots in the city.

Spring is everywhere.

Did I mention how I love the new office?

Winter Garden

Manaw's rooftop

And all the ones I don't have images or words for. Riverdance magic, waterfront walks. Diwali cookouts, movie nights. New Year parties.. and all the others. Strolling, skating, skiing. Driving safe, or sometimes not. Escaped jailbirds rejoicing. Sober, drunk or hopelessly drunk. Awake or.. still dreaming?

My Baby's Come Home

2010-04-12T08:17:00.002+05:30

And it's so beautiful I could cry.

World, be my oyster now.

2010-04-02T11:10:00.003+05:30

oh god oh god Delhi heat is SCORCHING!! Surely this is not normal? April just began for god's sake.

look - i'm telling you. global warming is seriously depressing me.

2010-03-19T11:26:00.011+05:30

I feel like sleeping under a ceiling fan on a hot summer afternoon.

I can't understand people who like Coke. Or Pepsi.
Why is packing always so hard?

Today, for a not-too-brief while, I was actually high on the weather.

Why is everyone migrating to wordpress?

Soon there will be storms in Delhi. Given a choice between Delhi storms and this New York sunshine, I would unflinchingly choose the latter.

I miss Papa the most when he starts telling me about something and starts by laughing because he has finished the thought in his head. Do I also do this sometimes? I think so. I want to buy him a seriously great car (unfortunately I promised him a Corvette back when I didn't know any better.)

This week I landed up in Kansas, an anonymous city called Wichita, floating somewhere in the flat expanse of the mid-west. (Hmm. So that's how the rest of America lives.)

Starting this Monday I will have a 45 second commute to work. I'm not moving, our global headquarters are! You'd think I'd be excited about the extra 30 minutes of sleep but packing tonight brought back 3 years of bitter-sweet memories, some from that first summer when I was just a kid.
Besides, I actually love my walk to work.

I want to go for a picnic to Central Park, in the lazy sunshine, with all my best friends all around me close to me, and MR and Namu and Gaurav and Yagna and Aquila and Mayur and Ponds and Jooz and Yas and everyone, everyone I love and who loves me, all around me, and laughing and talking, talking.

Oh god this post refuses to convert to Trebuchet.

Mmmhmm

2010-02-01T07:52:00.002+05:30

Delicious, delicious slices of life. (Yes I'm back!)

- Poetry Slam. Cheap, deeply intoxicating wine at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Seated in a largely Caribbeo-Brooklyn gathering that nods and hmms alongside the speaker in the manner of a church group.
("I'm going to tell you a poem about people who try to save Africa."
"Save Africa!"
"I hear you"
"For Africa, un-huh")
Passionately delivered, oftentimes brilliant poetry.

-An excuse to clean up my house - and now the indescribable joy of coming home to a home like this.

- Jello shots on my ceiling.

- Walking about on a crazy subzero day with friends, a lunch chillier than our wildest fantasies, a movie and then a chance (after a long time) to paint. Also a chance to listen to a forgotten street artist CD I bought back in December - it's Peruvian chants, mostly flute music, and even has their homespun version of the soundtrack of the Last of the Mohicans.
It's good specially now, on a night that's empty with a moon that's full.

-

Wisdom in Shorts

2010-01-29T10:04:00.004+05:30

I know I just put up this link but I don't have copy of Catcher in the Rye handy and all I have to thumb through are web pages.
These.. they just kill me.

"If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she's late? Nobody."

"Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody."

"Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."

"People always think something's all true."

"I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible. "

"There isn't any night club in the world you can sit in for a long time unless you can at least buy some liquor and get drunk. Or unless you're with some girl that really knocks you out."

"Anyway, I'm sort of glad they've got the atomic bomb invented. If there's ever another war, I'm going to sit right the hell on top of it. I'll volunteer for it, I swear to God I will."

2010-01-29T07:20:00.003+05:30

Everytime I am running too late to walk to work and cab it, I see this quote written on a makeshift wall surrounding the southern tip of Battery Park..off to its right you see the Statue of Liberty a little way off into the river -
"for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder."
It's from the Great Gatsby. Even in my mad rush, it gives me a sense of having accidentally discovered something beautiful. It brings me my first smile of the day.

Eulogy

2010-01-29T06:54:00.002+05:30

"I don't even know what I was running for - I guess I just felt like it."
http://www.quotegarden.com/bk-cr.html

Thank you for your words.

2009 - The Year That Was

2010-01-28T09:05:00.005+05:30

Its been a while now since I read this blog. I am looking back at my entries - the years that had been. There had been a time I could think of trying to capture a year in songs and cinema and sights. I look back and I see myself collecting moments. I see myself scribbling furiously on scraps to capture a feeling that's about to evaporate. I see myself in a state of some sort of hyper anticipation - and I still don't know what it is I was waiting for. Maybe inside of me I still am.
If there's one thing that changed in 2009 it was this tendency of mine to hang on - to moments, to places, to cities, even, to a certain extent to people. While I learnt to recognize the value of time, I grew more distant from all the things I loved doing with it. Given the choice, I probably wouldn't do some of them now. To be honest I feel somewhat like an imposter writing this entry, as if everything were the same.

I really believe that we fundamentally don't change. We might, in time, be moulded into something else by these perennial gales, but the essence will be there to retrieve when it's required. At least that's the assumption/belief I go with. So let me not panic nor congratulate myself that I don't any longer seem to care to constantly chronicle the things that go into making my life. It's sort of as if my memory is losing its adhesion. Maybe I used it too much. It no longer sticks.

So here's my watery attempt at capturing 2009, a year set apart from all my others in every way that matters. In its challenges, in its pleasures, in its sheer number of brand new experiences - in some ways it's difficult to believe it happened.

- A lesson - oft-repeated but never fully understood - of what it is exactly that you cannot do without in life.
Time and distance and speed. And a dusty little lesson.

- A decision, so easy to make and so natural at the time, but come time to carry it through, it will be the toughest thing I will ever do.
But I love this city madly and I am sure I will be back.

- A room of my own.
Snow, sun, clouds at my window.

- A worklife that other people cannot come to terms with.
In more ways than one.

- An affirmation from 2008 that good times and bad times are thoroughly artificial concepts.
The crux is what you make of it.

Let me leave you with an image of a vintage Manhattan evening - one like so many others that I cannot count them - but in its shady randomness, the quintessence of New York 2009. I'll miss it so much.

Land up at X's house. Play silly games or simply drink and fight over music. Watch a movie. Experiment with a new restaurant for dinner. Get drinks at the Red Lion or Angel's Share or something such. Move from place to place, bar to bar, song to song, one in an ocean of humanity, dancing to the pulse of a Friday night. You don't even know its 4 AM when you hit Kaati Roll. In your group of 20, stand outside Kaati Roll and sing Bollywood numbers from a decade or two ago. Be joined by random strangers. Move the party to Y's place, stay up singing Indipop remixes from the 90's and dancing along till the morning. Stumble home.

Repeat on Saturday.

Never Ever Fly Jet Lite

2009-12-13T23:06:00.002+05:30

The Other Morning

2009-11-30T10:30:00.000+05:30

And please

2009-11-27T11:10:00.001+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dKxvDbI9b4&feature=related

Another one..

2009-11-27T11:08:00.001+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr0YA48AkPw&feature=related

Goosebumps :-)

But Not As Much As Tomorrow!

2009-11-26T08:50:00.003+05:30

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j45ezAAeMDw

Beginniner's Guide to Men and Other Household Hazards

2009-11-21T11:11:00.026+05:30

The astute reader remembers the post where I royally gave womenkind what they deserve.
(Yes and now when you look at me in confusion and start to say I'm one too, I quickly look the other way.)
However I thought long and hard and honestly can see no reason not to diss the other half of the world as well. I mean it's all about balance and harmony. Yin and yang, etc.

So here we classify all human males into five neat categories for ease of handling - and then proceed to poke fun at them as well.

If you are wondering why only five categories here when we waxed eloquently on sub and sub-sub divisions previously - the answer is simple. If guys are grade three algebra, girls are somewhere up there with advanced number theory.

Guys are simple. Girls - not so much.

So we will now oversimplify them further and then expound our theories. Much great analysis is based on simplifying assumptions.

5. I-Casanova-you-Jane (we call him the Joey Triviani guy)
This gentleman has it in his head that all of womankind is easy prey. Sitting ducks, if you please. It doesn't really matter what he has to do to accomplish his goals, but he will try every unethical trick in the book to snare desired target. Needless to say, this is a moving target that changes with the frequency of skirt-clad passers-by. The funny thing about this one though, is that he doesn't quite realize just how easy to see through he is. Provides for much entertainment through ridiculous flattery and puppy eyes. Can be recognized by the generosity of Axe sprayed on self and struttiness of walk prior to approaching target.

4. I-Einstein-you-Woman
Ladies, behold - the MCP. After having been beaten consistently by women in every walk of life, this gentleman still manages to be a throwback to the patriarchical heydays. Was probably an outspoken girl-hater when he was 12. Genuinely feels women were basically born to serve ornamental and domestic functions. Has trouble taking orders from senior women. Criticizes any strong woman he comes across as a harridan or ice-queen. Quickly slots the opposite sex into one of several disparaging categories ("loose" is a word that comes to mind.)

So what he really deserves is to be shuttled into a world without women to see how well he survives. Grr.

3. The Tortured Poet (a la Ethan Hawke in Before Sunrise)
This genetleman has a soul the size of a blue whale. And doesn't quite know what to do with all of it. So he is often on about the state of the world, the pain he feels, how beautiful it is to be alive and also how very tragic. Very often has views about how you are wasting your life being a successful career woman when you should be living out your full potential as a full-time hippy. Has often had a semi-Leftist-kurta-jhola-type late adolescence. A more cheesy character than that highway-and-peregrine bloke Kincaid, this fellow (of course) writes poetry, probably feels trapped by the conveniences of modern living, is almost sure to tell you it is the soul he is interested in and not your exterior - - - and is remarkably quick to stop all the bullshit the moment he is out of the last female earshot.
Such is life that I have reached a stage where I am fairly unsurprised when I meet this type. Best cure: whitely lie that you are engaged and/or tell him his poetry sucks - and he should be OK after that.

2. Mr.-Nice-Guy
I will tell you where this category is coming from - its someone from work. Mentally I think of him as the perfect person. This guy is so nice that he's almost inhuman. He is always happy at work, making the atmosphere so much nicer for the others.He hums and he sings as he works, even. He always has a nice thing to say to everyone. People gravitate to him and he is almost never too busy to stop and chat for a minute. He helps everyone that he possibly can and goes out of his way to do this. He works harder than anyone and will never be seen dumping work on his juniors just because he can. Aside from his phenomenal sense of humour and gift of gab, he has a remarkable intelligence that accompanies an unparallaled curiosty. I have never seen him embarrassed to say he doesn't know something if he doesn't , almost child-like. But if you ask him something and he doesn't know it, he will go to great lengths to figure it out with you - because he really wants to learn too. It is hard to believe that he is a trust-fund baby who doesn't need to lift a finger if he chooses not to, for the rest of his life. If you are having a hard time believing this guy can exist- believe me, I do too. I am astonished by him every single day, just because of the way he is.
Asidde from such paragons of course one has had the fortune to come across other gentlemen with purity of heart and goodness of intentions. It seems particularly indigenous in those that have flocked to a well-known institute of engineering in Eastern India. Ah, so I'm biased :-) Sue me.

1. The-Best-Friend
This is the guy you can't live without.This guy hears you out when you need to vent and never judges you. The lack of judgement is of a kind that you can almost never get from a girl. This guy also thinks of you as a baby, takes care of you like a sister, will never take the cab he ran two blocks to hail if you are yet to leave - even if it's 4AM and he has to go double the distance you have to and its freezing cold. He is almost certain to praise your cooking even when you yourself can't eat it. You can bully him into shopping or going to the museum - and unless diverted by a romantic interest, he will probably accompany you genially. When you take great pains to look nice, he will tell you you look nice - and you will actually believe him because it's him!

In short, this guy is the reason you are still relatively sane - even if you drive him crazy all the time :-)

Counting Blessings

2009-11-13T11:53:00.005+05:30

Going home in December. Check. (Surprisingly good deal on ticket given time until trip and time of the year. Check.) Long hair. Check. Which have learnt to behave/been successfully beaten into submission. Check. Job satisfaction. At career high (which is not saying much but still.) Friends. Check. (Still even though I never call/chat online and have for all practical purposes disappeared? Check.) London next year. Check. Books lying around. Check. Collarbones. Check. Christmas visit. Check. Autumn surreality. Check. Gorgeousness and general awesomeness. Check, as always.

I'm not sure if there is anything else I could wish for.

Umm..except for being thin of course.

2009-11-12T10:47:00.005+05:30

On a plane at 6:30 in the evening. A shut eye that lasts an hour. When we begin our descent, I paste my face along the window. Wait for the lights. Old habits.

The pilot plays the New York skyline like a maestro. Dips into mid-town. Below me unfolds the panorama of spangled sky-scrapers. And beneath them mercury balls of cars rolling along roads that neatly divide my city into rectangles. I see the Times Square signs from up here, and read the glowing red sign of the NEW YORKER. To be honest, I can barely breathe.

The pilot dips more and turns downwards to downtown. Suddenly my sight is filed with the imposing heights of the financial district. And the bridges stretch across the water, filigrees of light. And then my eyes are level with the diagonal band I have been seeing cut across the neat stacks of blocks from all the way across the city - Broadway. And I peek along its tremendous length from my perch in the sky and see the light oozing along like life-blood.

Maybe you'd say I've seen this so many times -

To which I'd answer - maybe I haven't forgotten how to feel after all.

2009-11-12T10:40:00.002+05:30

On a plane at 6:30 in the morning. And then in an eight hour long meeting. On the way back to the Boston airport, a fifteen minute cab ride to think about why I sometimes feel as if I no longer feel. If it's too late already.

2009-11-05T13:05:00.003+05:30

Do you ever get that feeling that you might just like your job?

Even though you've just gotten home at 3AM?

Floodgates

2009-10-29T10:56:00.011+05:30

yes, actually.

sometimes dreams do come true. and then the floodgates open.

floating. because you looked at me. all the insanities we buried so carefully all bubble up. in my own twisted way, you know, i would do anything for you - so here i am.

and you knew that i would come.

to tolerate the distance, the loneliness eating into me like open wounds, to know that i'd found everything, and then be afraid to yet lose it, that there may yet be another for you, there may be the lure of another life, another time, another firefly flying past my swiveling head as i would only watch. except to know if you left, there would be no other, no glow, no hope, nothing. nothing to see, nothing to save. nothing.

and then to find you waiting, to know i'm home, you aren't going to shuffle your feet, you are never going to leave, and you will shine on till i live and you live, and i will never again cry when you leave, because you won't ever leave, and i will never again cry when you arrive, because we will never have been apart, and there will never be another moment of precarious doubt, because you are my very own.

my firefly, always glow.

Do Dreams Sometimes Come True?

2009-10-23T10:16:00.001+05:30

2009-10-19T00:50:00.002+05:30

There are clouds right outside my window. Winter has arrived before fall colours this year and its brought a chilling rain along. On my way back from work today there was a juncture where it was me against the crazed frozen wind - and the wind won.

It's just starting.

I guess there are some pages you never want to turn, but the story gets ahead of you anyway. And so ends another summer.

Adios calidez.

7 Habits of Highly Effective People*

2009-08-30T01:08:00.004+05:30

1. Moving houses, packing stuff
Spend the god-given weekend in bed. Eventually decide packing boxes aren't required, all crockery can be carried in suitcases without any problems, and there are enough clothes in need of washing in your house to pad everything with. With this happy decision, go back to sleep.

2. A typical work-day
Slouch in at 10.30-ish. Read all the news. Read all your favourite blogs. Break for lunch. Reread updated news if any. Catch up on your correspondence. Text, email and call incessantly all day. Enthuse privately over exciting new finds on yelp. Fulfill your decorative purpose in the office. Go home.

3. Chores of the day
Fitfully recall that the last time you did your laundry was in February. The key here is to always look clean and smell good - and you can wear your shirts as many times as you like. Easier to buy new ones though. Eating out everyday obviates garbage-creation and the resultant garbage-disposal walk eight meters down the corridor. Dishes that look clean needn't be washed. Handy tip: the Cinnamon-pecan special K cereal can be eaten dry, functions well as a full meal and can be had straight from the box, making it one less bowl to put in your dishwasher.

4. Going out
If you have conveniently forgotten what the inside of the NY subway looks like, try to limit yourself to south Asian cab drivers**, you will likely be offered discounts and the occasional semi-free ride where the cabbie will stop the meter mid-way due to a traffic jam. If you happen to arrive early on occassion, milk it thoroughly for the next tweve times that you are late. If all else fails, pleading insanity is always an option.

5. Technology:
The road from a crashed hard-disk to a cherry red laptop is a short, if morally bankrupt, one.

6. Travel:
Having flown the equivalent of several times around the world and not owning even one decent loyalty plan/free miles membership, watch with a burning heart as gold card club members scoot to the front of the line.

7. Bottom line:
If in spite of yourself, at the end of the day you can manage to feel good about your day.... more power to you!

* Please don't sue me for copyright da. I'm just saying.
**Not at all tough in NYC

I Can Make It Be Summer

2009-08-27T09:41:00.014+05:30

I can make it be summer my friend. By dipping the sun in that pool of all your secret smiles over all our silly years - I saved each drop. I knitted your hugs into this blanket, my comforter, my warmth-giver. The heady brew of your conversation, I sip it still on a quiet evening, alone with thoughts of you. All the colours of your companionship, I sprinkle them on a grey day sometimes. All the pearls that were once your tears, they are safe with me. They won't rain again. I always polish them, so you shine on. I have many oceans of your pain that you are never going to get back. Because you gave them to me then and they're mine now (so sshhh). But if there's anything else you might care for.. Tell me about it when next we meet, walk with me, talk to me awhile.

Unspoken II

2009-08-26T11:09:00.001+05:30

I'm officially back to that life where the sun don't shine. Don't care. Life's too short to worry anyway and if I don't like it, there is nothing holding me to it. Nothing except my own notion of what I should do - one of the more murky corners of my own concept of my life. Reality. The world as is. Or the world, period. What is the world anyway? I have been learning, learning. Learning that maybe confusion is an acceptable state, nyet, if some of these metaphysicist fellows are to be believed, it is the only state. This constant question mark that flickers inside of me - the irresolute, feeble, half-baked attempts to live like any other - really, are unecessary. Because I wasn't born into a dogma or a religion or a faith or even a belief. I was. just. born. And it is up to me to believe, and to choose what to believe in. Take love, for instance. Love as a continuity, as a sum of all that went before and will come after - I have come to better tolerate my unarticulated, mild, hazy bafflement with this concept. Because this concept is not mine. And if I choose to believe and live by love as Agyeya's kshan, as a point, as the present, and only the present, with no past, and no future, then to me that's the real thing and no farce will mask that. Love as eternal sacrifice and love as blind faith. No matter how much time goes by I can never condition myself into accepting these concepts - maybe this is simply the baggage that comes from being a part of this collective conceptiontualization of our world. All that ties in to the kshan is my own concept of This Is Why, that I was born to be happy, and love is to know that in this second, in the present, at this very moment, I am the happiest I can ever be.

This is Why -

2009-08-26T10:52:00.000+05:30

"What I really lack is to be clear in my mind what I am to do, not what I am to know, except in so far as a certain knowledge must precede every action. The thing is to understand myself, to see what God really wishes me to do: the thing is to find a truth which is true for me, to find the idea for which I can live and die..."

—Søren Kierkegaard, Letter to Peter Wilhelm Lund dated August 31, 1835

Song of the Juggler
General, there’s a battle
between your orders and my songs.
It goes on all the time:
night, day.
It knows neither tiredness or sleep–
a battle that has gone on for many years,
so many that my eyes have never seen a sunrise
in which you, your orders, your arms, your trenches
did not figure.
A rich battle
in which, aesthetically speaking, my rags
and your uniform face off.
A theatrical battle–
it only lacks dazzling stage sets
where comedians might come on from anywhere
raising a rumpus as they do in carnivals,
each one showing off his loyalty and valor.
General, I can’t destroy your fleets or your tanks
and I don’t know how long this war will last
but every night one of your orders dies without
being followed,
and, undefeated, one of my songs survives.
–Heberto Padilla
From Legacies
(translated by Alastair Reid and Andrew Hurley)

And this from Lev Shestov's All Things Are Possible which I am going through on slow days in office... and after a long time, it is something that inspires me to scribble notes everywhere, try to hold some of it in my mind even. Heady.

"To praise oneself is considered improper, immodest; to praise ones's own sect, one's own philosophy, is considered the highest duty. Even the best writers have taken at least as much trouble to glorify their philosophy as to found it, and have always had more success in the former case than in the latter. Their ideas, whether proven or not, are the dearest possession in life to them, in sorrow a consolation, in difficulty a source of counsel. Even death is not terrible to ideas; they will follow man beyond the grave, they are the only imperishable riches. All this the philosophers repeat, very eloquently repeat and reiterate concerning their ideas, not less skillfully than advocates plead their cases on behalf of thieves and swindlers. But nobody has ever yet called a philosopher "a hired conscience," though everybody gives the lawyer this nickname. Why this partiality? "

Apne Apne Ajnabi (To Each His Own Stranger)

2009-08-26T08:26:00.000+05:30

Mudit handed it to me one day, without any real warning. I was maybe thirteen, hungry, read it in an afternoon. It's a slim volume and he had given me the English translation.
I remember wondering at many, many points in the book how the writer got inside my head.
There is no getting around it - I was one weird kid.

Now I'd give the shirt off my back for a copy... Anyone? Pretty please?

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एक अन्तहीन, परिवर्तनहीन धुँधली रोशनी, जो न दिन की है, न रात की है, न सन्ध्या के किसी क्षण की ही है—एक अपार्थिव रोशनी जो कि शायद रोशनी भी नहीं है ; इतनी ही कि उसे अन्धकार नहीं कहा जा सकता। हमेशा सुनती आयी हूँ कि कब्र में बड़ा अँधेरा होता है, लेकिन यहाँ उसकी भी असम्पूर्णता और विविधता है। शायद यही वास्तव में मृत्यु होती है, जिसमें कुछ भी होता नहीं, सब कुछ होते-होते रह जाता है। होते-होते रह जाना ही मृत्यु का विशेष रूप है जो मनुष्य के लिए चुना गया है जिसमें कि विवेक है, अच्छे-बुरे का बोध है। यह उसमें न होता तो उसका मरना सम्पूर्ण हो सकता। जो चुकता वह सम्पूर्ण चुक जाता ; या जो रहता उसका बना रहना भी असन्दिग्ध होता। यह हमारे युगों से सँचे हुए नीति-बोध की सजा है कि हमारा मरना भी अधूरा ही हो सकता है—मरकर भी कुछ हिसाब बाकी रह जाता है।

एक धुँधली रोशनी—एक ठिठका हुआ निःसंग जीवन। मानो घड़ी ही जीवन को चलाती है, मानो एक छोटी-सी मशीन ने जिसकी चाबी तक हमारे हाथ में है, ईश्वर की जगह ले ली है। और हम हैं कि हमारे में इतना भी वश नहीं है कि उस यंत्र को चाबी न दें, घड़ी को रुक जाने दें, ईश्वर का स्थान हड़पने के लिए यन्त्र के प्रति विद्रोह कर दें, अपने को स्वतन्त्र घोषित कर दें !....घड़ी के रुक जाने से समय तो नहीं रुक जायेगा और रुक भी जायेगा तो यहाँ पर क्या अन्तर होने वाला है, घड़ी के चलने पर भी तो यहाँ समय जड़ीभूत है। एक ही अन्तहीन लम्बे शिथिल क्षण में मैं जी रही हूँ—जीती ही जा रही हूँ—और वह क्षण जरा भी नहीं बदलता, टस-से-मस नहीं होता है ! क्या अपने सारे विकास के बावजूद हम मनुष्य भी निरे पौधे नहीं हैं जो बेबस सूरज की ओर उगते हैं ? अँधेरे में भी अंकुर मिट्टी के भीतर-ही-भीतर सूरज की ओर बढ़ता है, रौंदा जाकर फिर टेढ़ा होकर भी सूरज की ओर ही मुड़ता है। कोई कहते हैं कि सब पौधे धरती के केन्द्र से बाहर की ओर बढ़ते हैं—यानी केन्द्र से दूर हटने की प्रवृत्ति उन्हें सूरज की ओर ठेलती है। लेकिन इस केन्द्रापसारी प्रवृत्ति को भी अन्तिम मान लेना तो वैसा ही है जैसे हम पृथ्वी को सौर-मण्डल से अलग मान लें। पृथ्वी भी सूरज की ओर खिंचती भी है और सूरज की ओर से परे को ठिलती भी रहती है। इसी तरह अंकुर भी जड़ों को नीचे की ओर फेंकता है और बढ़ता है सूरज की ओर।और हम जड़ें कहीं नहीं फेंकते, या कि सतह पर ही इधर-उधर फैलाते जाते हैं, लेकिन जीते हैं सूरज के सहारे ही ; अनजाने ही वह हमारे जीवन की हर क्रिया को, हर गति को अनुशासित कर रहा है। हम सब मूलतया सूर्योपासक हैं ; और हमारे चेतन में चाहें जो कुछ हो, हमारे जीवन में सूर्य ईश्वर का पर्याय है। सूर्य और ईश्वर, सूर्य और समय, इसलिए सूर्य और हमारा जीवन—जहाँ सूर्य नहीं है वहाँ समय भी नहीं है।

लेकिन मैं जहाँ हूँ क्या सूर्य वहाँ सचमुच नहीं है ? क्या काल वहाँ सचमुच नहीं है ? क्या दावे से ऐसा न कह सकना ही मेरी यहाँ की समस्या नहीं है ? मैं मानो एक काल-निरपेक्ष क्षण में टँगी हुई हूँ—वह क्षण काल की लड़ी में से टूटकर कहीं छिटक गया है और इस तरह अन्तहीन हो गया है—अन्तहीन और अर्थहीन।

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"Samay matra anubhav hai, itihaas hai. Is sandarbh mein 'kshan' vahi hai jismein anubhav to hai lekin jiska itihaas nahin hai, jiska bhoot-bhavishya kuch nahin hai; jo shudh vartmaan hai, itihaas se pare, smriti ke sansarg se adhooshit, sansaar se mukt. Agar aisa nahin hai, to vah kshan nahin hai, kyonki vah kaal ka kitna hi chota khand kyon na ho, usmein mera jeena kaal-saapeksh jeena hai, aitihaasik jeena hai. Vah bindu nahin hai, rekha hai; rekha parampara hai aur kshan parampara-mukt hona chahiye."

In Which I Start..

2009-08-26T07:25:00.000+05:30

..Realizing that there is literally no tomorrow.

Excuses

2009-08-25T09:16:00.002+05:30

Coming back to life shortly. Armed with a functional (and if I may mention, cherry red coloured) laptop... I'll be back with a vengeance.

Handy Tips

2009-07-01T07:53:00.006+05:30

Handy tip for Smoothie Lovers:

The green Naked Smoothie is the best smoothie in the world.
No, really. Try it.

Handy tip for Met-goers:

Let the impressionists be first. You really can't budget your time there.
Also, try not to topple/destroy priceless Van Gogh pieces in your excitement.
(Ed: not me.)

Handy tip for itinerants headed home after a longish while:

Find a Victoria's Secret sale -and all of womankind that you know and love can be gift-shopped for at one fell swoop. (Alongwith much generosity being bestowed upon yourself, yus?)

Handy tip for anyone looking to find a little piece of unadulterated happiness:

Summer in NYC. Enough said.

It's in All the Little Ones

2009-06-25T09:43:00.010+05:30

Attended Maazel conducts Sibelius's Second recently. Imagine five know-nothing twenty-somethings turning up at a show where the audience, on an average, is nearly septuagenarian. Some of us miss the start. But by the end of it all are spell-bound. That's how good it was.
My five year plan includes one musical instrument. Maybe the violin. I know it's the toughest, but woh zindagi hi kya jisme koi naamumkin sapna na ho?
One year plan is more concrete. Spanish (with classes, no dilettanting anymore) till I can cuss like a native, and photography (with classes, and my new camera, which is being researched and will shortly be purchased in all its DSLR glory.) I am tempted to add ballet dancing and traveling to all remaining continents and the violin to the one year agenda itself - but I am serious this time. Biting off only as much as I can chew.

"No more dillying, dallying and dithering. No more wasting time with indecision.
Happiness isn't hiding in the big shiny moments - it's in all the little ones."

(There are times, I realize, when even I have to admit I had a point.)

Creative Dining #336

2009-06-25T09:40:00.002+05:30

Breakfast, lunch, dinner - first and last meal of the day: 12 Inch Sub.

All I want from my job is the ability to get away and have lunch once in a while. Wonder if that's asking for too much?

Creative Dining #027

2009-06-16T07:35:00.002+05:30

Appetizer: Chips

Main Course: Chips

(Also breakfast, lunch, mid-meal snack. In loving memory of the Maine trip, 18 hour drive.)

7 Better Ways To Spend Your Time Than Making Random Lists

2009-06-11T07:49:00.007+05:30

7. Watch Prison Break. I have the whole thing on my comp and no one I have spoken to till date has ever not said it's "bloody awesome" or "frikkin amazin" etcetera etcetera. But I'm scared. If I get hooked I'll waste too much of the summer.

6. Go to the gym, which I didn't do today, but I cleaned my room, and believe me when I tell you.. it was MUCH harder work. Now everything is squeaky clean including me, and with freshly shampooed hair and general bon homie I am lounging on my brand new deep blue bedsheet feeling like a super star.

5. Maybe go and read the mail the visa people sent since I have a biometric type appointment for a UK visa thingie tomorrow. But that's seriously boring.

4. Finish The Groucho Letters. Bloody awesome.

(Hmm. But it appears that I am savouring it somewhat, subconsciously going slow, like I don't want it to end.)

(Look, just because I happen to be this person doesn't mean I have to explain her.)

3. Write a mail. But I already wrote about seven hundred eighty three tonight. Now that's seriously boring and specially when people at the receiving end are busy trading currencies or something aggressive like that, in Tokyo of all places, and you sorta feel even more incredibly jobless. Y'know?

*New Strategy. Ignore him. Then maybe he will call me at his lunch-time. Yes!

*On a side note, I wish my employers would send me on paid vacations to Tokyo. But that's not going to happen is it.

2. Do some personal grooming. Do my eyebrows maybe? Oh god that's seriously boring. Not to mention painful.

1. Write an entire point as if I were another person writing about her and tell many lies about her like how the writer of this blog actually really is a seven foot four and a half inch Slav called Grete and she lives in Krakow not Manhattan and makes her living out of selling purses knit out of human hair, and tries her luck every other weekend in the Long Island Bi-Weekly Lottery (she buys her ticket online).

Creative Dining #718

2009-06-11T04:59:00.003+05:30

15 grain bread.
Chocolate chip cookie.

Back in NYC

2009-06-10T08:43:00.005+05:30

"Jus' the two of us.
Building castles in the sky."

Father and daughter, and never say no. Trying every cuisine from Moroccan to Vietnamese, Ukrainian to Japanese. Father and daughter, spending a moody weeknight, he reading, she reading. An operatic phantom one time, a leonine ruler another, a triple-dad conundrum yet another. A random walk in the neighbourhood one night. And the same old random approach to life everyday. We bought four boxes of corn flakes because we couldn't decide which one. But we forgot milk. (OK let's survive on strawberries.) Father and daughter, inept yet insistent google-map readers. Standing on the shoreline, glimpsing Mexico through the fog and the distance.

Both of them together, they are still just the two of us.

But I feel no longer as if I'm the same, small, helpless or childish. If I can take care of him I can take care of anything. Its taken its time leaving, but I believe childhood is finally past.

Well... I still can't find my way around but that's congenital and I got it from him.

All my life he's let me get away with murder. It's time to turn it around now.
Maybe I was a pampered kid. But now all I want is to pamper him back.

Snapshots from a family holiday III

2009-06-10T08:05:00.008+05:30

I've come to the point where I've caught myself saying, meh, I've seen all this, I've seen better. I tell myself to be careful. The world is so small these days that naivete must be budgeted. Stretched thinly over all the globe.

Because if you start to think you've seen it all, where will you go to be lost again?

That said, Vegas is not for me. The lights hold no attraction. (Repulsion - very possibly). The atmosphere seems so contrived that I am very genuinely flummoxed. Just how empty were those people that gave this little desert strip, with its tangle of electric lights and unclothed bodies this larger than life stature?

I'm happy on the road, absorbed in a rare, violent thunder storm somewhere in the Sierra Nevada. Arizona offers vaster stretches of sky than I have seen before. The Canyon itself is a conundrum. To me its humongous void seems full of the deepest mystery. I'm almost breathless standing at the edge, filled with an illogically strong desire to go within.

I really recommend the IMAX National Geographic Grand Canyon movie to anyone who has the option to watch it on the big screen. Even if you are en route the real thing. You will be stunned.

San Diego and sunny southern California . Such a beautiful place that I long to belong. I want so badly to call this place my own and for this sun, this breeze, this feeling of fullness to be the perpetual state. I am but a visitor, and I'll take back nothing but some pictures of a few flowers and fading memories. But San Diego has stolen a bit of me.

LA, and I'm thinking "blah". Its just any other city with a Hollywood sign. The tour guide (poor soul) makes the most out of such trivia as "this is where River Phoenix OD'd. This is where Monica Belucci OD'd." Beverly Hills and walk of fame and Sunset Boulevard and I'm still very very "blah."
Universal Studios was incredible though. Atticus loved the behind-the-scenes look at how special effects are created. I was petrified of the roller coasters but went anyway, mostly because I couldn't say no.
(Since I survived, it was fun.)

Snapshots from a family holiday II

2009-06-10T07:06:00.009+05:30

Atticus is ferried home. The finer points of an egg well-scrambled are discussed. Prepared, consumed. Ideas fly now. Nothing has been planned, I've been careful to be every bit as hopeless as he expects to find me. All I have are plane tickets, silver-platter proffered. But I learn. We agree on the Philharmonic for this very first evening. Chocolate brown dress and golden coat (tags snipped off just before leaving, that brand new). It's Alan Gilbert conducting Mahler (Blumine) and Lieberson (The World in Flower). We, who live in words, prefer music that goes without. Except Rumi -

"Dance, when you're broken open.
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you're perfectly free.

Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.

We are the night ocean filled
with glints of light. We are the space
between the fish and the moon,
while we sit here together."

I am surprised to find that insane Chilean, our man Neruda, wedged in between a Navajo prayer and Uvanuk. The baritone sings in Spanish of course. Never has a language lent itself more gracefully to music, which I can only describe as luminous. It glows. As always I find myself more in love with Neruda's word play than the poem itself. Snatches of phrases, splashes of words, pinpricks of things you've felt before - that is Neruda's art. They sing Oceana, which I don't even remember having read before -

"I want to listen to the invisible, things fallen out of time
onto the equinox's canopy of palm trees.
Give me the secret wine guarded within each syllable,
the comings and going of waves, races of honey
fallen into the sea's bucket, washed up on the reefs."

"I don't exist - I lost days because back then,
Ocean Lady, I didn't embrace your flowery guitar.
The dawn's mouth glittered like mother-of-pearl.
Like thunder, surf penetrated the islands,
and everything churned to brilliance, except my life,
except my heart, yearning for orange blossoms."

"Ocean Lady, give your twilight rest in the castle
which faithfully awaited the passage of your lush hair,
in every wave that the sea raised up from its chasm,
and then you weren't yourself - but instead the fugitive sea,
the sea, the sea, and what could I do?
It was late, another day was opening with my key,
another door, and the sea extended emptiness.:

"Back then I wandered, wasting my smile.
One by one, my teeth dropped into an iron box.
Furiously, I contemplated saints in mourning,
amber coffins carried by the dawn,
minerals imprisoned in their abyss,
the miserable algae rocking themselves in the fog,
and without touching your eyelids, golden Ocean Lady,
black Ocean Lady, Ocean Lady with transparent hands,
I stretched my senses, until without knowing it,
a sudden rose unfurled, blossoming over the sea."

The finale of the concert, all wordless Mahler, is sheer genius.

2009-06-09T09:23:00.000+05:30

Truly speechless.

Creative Dining #411

2009-06-04T09:34:00.004+05:30

Appetizer: Pita Chips

Entrée: Peanuts

I have

2009-06-04T03:39:00.004+05:30

- more things to write about and more of a desire to write them than I have absolutely ever had before. I am BURSTING.
- ten new books I picked up when I dropped Atticus at the airport. They are sitting within arm's reach as I type this.
- the most gorgeous view of a rainy downtown evening, spread right outside my immense windows.
- no time at all.

- a sneaking suspicion that the summer won't wait around forever.

I'm Feeling Lucky

2009-05-17T08:04:00.012+05:30

I'm so sorry but I'm at my soppiest. I can't help it, do you sometimes get this strange warm oozy feeling inside your tummy, like warm molten amber doing disco dance inside, happy thoughts expanding inside you till you really could burst? Just had to pen some of them down. Wonder if you have felt the same? Wonder if it is normal to know someone who has -

- Turned up for their first "meet the parent" occassion wearing the exact same shirt as your father and starting off the conversation with, "You seem to have good taste" (or something such)?

- Been severely ticklish but frozen themselves into one quivering giggling lump whenever you launched a tickle attack because they were "afraid that if I react you might get hurt"? (Yes, even when you exploited this every single day?)

- Given up Coco Pops? *

- Learnt how to play your favourite songs on the guitar to surprise you though they absolutely have never played/learnt to play the guitar before? Practiced daily for weeks for this?

- Applied themselves to the art of gymming in impressive, consistent ways because of a stray suggestion of yours?

- Been gracious when your Incredibly Boring Division job made you waste $250 tickets to an awesome show at the last minute? Arranged to take you for the very same show the very first day you both land up in the same city again?

- Left a goodie bag for you because you were arriving in the city and at their apartment before they got back from training that day? Stocked up their fridge in case you wish to have three or four meals in those two hours that they are away? Left detailed instructions at the table about what all to eat/how to turn on the bath taps without getting scalded?

- Told you you are not fat 795,830,178 times. And still not lost their patience with your severe loserness on this subject.

- Woken up night after night to talk, groggy and sleep-deprived but the first hello always the sweetest, "Hey baby"

- Taken you back when you have fought with them and even broken up with them over figments of your imagination. When you told them long distance is hard on you, turned up every month from across the Atlantic just when you needed it the most? **

- Told you you are a princess and an angel, when you do nothing to deserve any such title, and the opposite too often? When you went, "MR, MR, I want to go to Buenos Aires now", plaintively said "how do I take you now?" and been restive until you told them you were kidding because no matter how crazy, "whatever you want, I'll make it happen - you just have to tell me." Another such stray comment actually lands you in Puerto Rico. "OK, just pack your bags princess, leave the rest to me." ***

- Told you it was OK as long as it makes you happy?

- And most importantly - had faith in you when you lost it yourself?

Now you know why I'm feeling lucky :-)

* (Subject to continuing investigation.)
** That includes your birthday, the time you needed to find an apartment to rent real quick, the one time you were ill in all your time away from home yet..
*** Hah. Guess who was eventually coerced into packing those bags?

2009-05-15T08:20:00.012+05:30

Just a quick note to let you in on my secret formula for a great day:

Work from home day + Too lazy to get your system set up on time = Mad dash to office for 11AM prod deadline (thank god for living close to work)

Mad dash to office + Fury at being the only one having to come in and not being comfy in pajamas and/or at home while the father enjoys cricket, politics, and other desi entertainments = Work at never-before-known speed

Such speed + hunger = (Check out by lunch time expecting to figure out a way to login to the correct server at home) * (Sweet talk team to help finish up if you can't so you don't waste 2.3 minutes of your life walking back to the office)

Back home post-Chipotle + General afternoon drowsiness = Drift off to sleep in front of comp

Afternoon nap + Absolute lack of any intention to work afterward * Shopping binge with Atticus + Walk to South Street Seaport + Extremely windy + Gorgeous Manhattan twilight = Happiness

Atticus

2009-05-14T08:37:00.014+05:30

He is probably the same but it's been so long since I saw him.. Why does he look smaller?

Am I that much bigger?

You know already, dear reader, that I can't write about Atticus. There are no words.
What is it to say he is the reason I write?
Or that he is the reason I am myself?

I mean that's nothing.

Let me just say -
I am an old fashioned kid when it comes to my father.
And that there is no one like him in this world.

Fireflies

2009-05-14T08:28:00.006+05:30

She must have been sixteen when she began to see the fireflies.

They never stayed.

She started to think they were all in her head. But when she wanted most to catch one, it would flicker and vanish.

That's how she would know it had been real.

She started to see them everywhere. Their habit of leaving slowly broke her down. She went a bit mad I guess. She wouldn't talk to anybody if they were standing while she sat. She grew nervous when they shuffled their feet. She was convinced they would leave too.

And still she tried to catch those fireflies.

The day eventually came when she caught one. It turned to dust in her hand.

The Mountain Shall Soon Be Visiting Mohammed

2009-05-08T06:29:00.002+05:30

Atticus shall soon be on his way!

dhing chik dhing chik!! :)))

With That Out of the Way..

2009-05-01T09:10:00.005+05:30

Let me tell you a bit about why I am in such a good mood today. Or, this week. (In spite of the Monday from Hell I described in my last post.) In spite of the burgeoning wisdom tooth giving hell to my left lower jaw (And it is accompanied by no wisdom at all. I confirm this.) In spite of the flu virus doing social butterfly rounds of my city and today finally gracing also my own borough. In spite of the fact that the BBG extravaganza resulted in such a terrible body ache for the next two days that going to the gym has been an impossible dream (that, and the spectre of the flu virus latching straight on to me from my favourite elliptical.) In spite of the fact that Delhi lost a match this week (not acceptable, boys.) In spite of the fact that Delhi has reportedly recorded no lesser than 44 degrees celcius this April (a peak June summer temperature from vague recollections of a weather-related project assignment from over decade ago). In spite of only 50% polling in the third phase of elections (they say it's still good. I say its still 50%.) In spite of the fact that they might win, and then what's to become of my country? In spite of Karachi, today, and Sri Lanka. In spite of the terrible economic plight of Mexico. In spite of the fact that Chrysler, one of the Detroit greats, will prove to be another fatality of this dratted recession. OK - so I think you get the idea -

It's simply this: Work :-) It had been becoming steadily more interesting as I was slowly going from being totally blank towards learning more - and this month I have truly felt like I was beginning to emerge the winner in this war - so fraught with risk of so many kinds :-)

The Fine Line

2009-05-01T08:55:00.006+05:30

I'm beginning to get tired of the privacy thing myself to be honest. I know, I know what a pain it is (I have been told several times yes?) but that fine line that divides privacy from secrecy - I'm not sure I've got the hang of it. I just cannot reconcile myself to images of middle school HRTs stopping by to read my romantic exploits (as if!) or an unrelated elder offering (gahh) unsolicited advice to rectify my wayward ways or an unsuspecting colleague finding out what it was that was Really going through my mind when I told him I liked his pink pants last Friday. (note: fictitious).
Hmm.. seriously though - there is something in me that wants to protect my thoughts, my words, my actions, my story, my life - from prying eyes and undeserving souls. How megalomaniac does that sound? Yet, it's true. I haven't held anybody up to any test of merit in formulating the readership of my blog - which is probably more today than it was when it was a public page a year ago. Yet, to me, inviting you to read my thoughts is an act of trust and friendship. And I too, struggle with the odd thought or two of sharing an idea with the world in general - invariably I crush it.

So, please bear with me if it isn't too much trouble :-)

Not a Dull Moment Around Me

2009-04-29T04:42:00.008+05:30

So we finish last week with a few murmurs of the dreaded flu and I zone out during the weekend and tune into the world on Monday morning to see that it is everywhere. Your average nose-in-the-air New Yorker obviously thinking him/herself too cool/hygienic/rich to catch the flu continues to ply the streets (currently in her/his summer state of semi-undress). On the other hand, the news picks up a sense of urgency out of nowhere. Rumours of cases being discovered in offices of financial companies leads to a bit of a flurry. The emails from the Pandemic Control Team do no better at quelling fears.
As a result of all this my morning coffee had quite soured by the time I had made it through the headlines yesterday.
Then to spice things up, phone calls start coming in urging evacuation of the building due to a "low flying airplane threat". Now, albeit I have a rather good view of the waterfront (over my manager's shoulder, who of course is actually the one with the glass walled outer office and I inhabiting my little cube directly in front of it constantly sneaking peeks particularly during sunset :-) ) - but it does not face lady Liberty so I missed the cause of hysteria - and hysteria it pretty much was, with people from almost all office buildings pouring out in general confusion on the streets.
Now the real story when it turns up, seems to me to be a bit off. "Yeah, let's get the white house planes and a couple of fighter jets together and click their pictures. Let's fly them real low over the Financial District particularly the WTC site. Yeah, let's do it and not inform the civilians about it so they can freak out and then find out how useless all their emergency systems really are." I mean even politicians aren't that stupid. But if that's the story they choose to tell, well, I guess we will never know.
So on the existing canvas of unimaginable economic catastrophes and the Indian election theatrics, we lightly sprinkle a pandemic threat and a building evacuation. Let's keep things moving till mid-morning eh?

Gah. So today I was glad to head over to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens for my community teamworks project. It was a masterstroke of genius for me, to combine charity with my passion. Spent the morning doing back breaking work to get the lawns in shape for the Sakura Matsuri which kicks off Saturday. So I get a first-hand, relatively uncrowded preview of BBG's 200 cherry trees in FULL SPRING BLOOM, and spend the rest of the day feeling incredibly proud to be involved in something this beautiful.

Wow. I wonder if tomorrow is going to be normal?

Here you go my lovelies. For your eyes only :-)

Absolut Nonsense

2009-04-26T06:16:00.008+05:30

La la la. Since I last wrote, went on a trip to the gorgeous Caribbean and practiced some rusty Spanish. OK, so to add to my invisible list of to-dos, I want to really really learn kick-ass Spanish. There are so many people who speak Spanish here, like one of the women with the cube diagonally adjacent to mine, and whenever she calls home - she's Peruvian - I keep understanding snatches and wish that I knew more. Absolutely with no intention to actually eavesdrop. I just like the sound of it.

The Caribbean, by the way, is beautiful.

Now, till yesterday it was mildly chilly, I for one needed my light coat and definitely was not even contemplating trying to sleep without my blanket. And today suddenly I had to turn my AC on!! Look, this world has gone crazy. As I was mentioning earlier in the day, I think within a very short time indeed, all of humanity will basically have to write off pleasant weather, spring, autumn. It'll either be really, really cold or really, really, really hot. There will be no middle ground. We will run to places we think will be cooler but find that all hill stations have become Delhi. (Trusted sources tell me Puna, Ranchi - places with no fans in the older constructions because they never needed them - are clocking 40 degrees celcius in April. APRIL!)
Is any one else having a panic attack?

I am so, so healthy these days. I have known that in the current crop of the clan there runs some atavistic athleticism. Both parents have been Badminton champions. The father apparently stood second in his physical training in Mussoorie, next only to a Gorkha chap (I mean they are insane. Let's not even compare.) Yours truly has been a skating and roller hockey champ (before the reader snorts derisively let me state - I was good. I really was. In the second Delhi state tournament we took part in, in one of the matches the other team had 4 players because one of them got stuck somewhere - lost on them, the concept of substitutes - and so it was between forfeiting and our side reducing a player (because the organizers were silly that way with little girls' matches) - and we had played them previously so their side all wanted me to go. Coz I was hell good. We got a walkover I think, because, duh. As if!!)

Please note the only exception in this phenomenally, though covertly, athletic family is my sister, who is exceptionally unmotivated to move her ass. (Yet she is the slim one. God the universe is unfair.)

I'm so healthy, (and I didn't know this) but I can run 10+ km without tiring, burning 700 calories as casually as I consume them. But I'm happy to have found this side to me. Super fitness, here I come. (Now before the reader snorts again - I wouldn't have blogged about this if it were another passing phase - but its stuck, and grown, and taken hold, so that on a slow day in office I really want to just get to the gym and the same applies when I'm frustrated, or happy, or anything really. If you've been paying attention you might recall passing mentions of my obsessive tendencies before?)

Hmm, so I'm in that place again, the one where I'm not sure where I go from. I'm in a fantastic city, perhaps the best city in the world (and I say that knowing fully well the implications of that on my claims of my fierce loyalty towards Delhi. But but but, I have had several occasions to step out dressed up well and not get eve teased here - something Delhi never yielded in 22 years. Or clean space and clean air to walk around for that matter. I'm being objective here. Before you blow your patriotic top at me I think the Delhi NY faceoff is a new post. Coming up soon.)

To get back to the place I am in - not goegraphically but in life, yes? I love NY. Then, work has gone from being unbelievably confusing to intriguing even - it's all about understanding I suppose. Companies are doing well again. People don't seem to be getting fired too much. Daylight lasts till 8 PM. Papa is visiting me in May and we are going to the West Coast. I am enjoying the idea of getting to know someone from a different country. Strange as that may sound - in spite of all the traveling and living abroad that one might have been doing - really befriending somebody not Indian doesn't come naturally to me. I form good work relationships which translate into mutual respect and cordiality. Then fun along the way. But to know people from other walks of life just simply to know them - this is new. It's awesome.)

I've almost stopped the wine thing (wine euphemistically encompassing all intoxicants. Except music. And life.)
Not that I was a talli or anything. But I find that just hanging out and talking is much more my speed these days. Maybe it's a phase?

Lastly I would really like to transfer to London. I might love NY and all, but face it - "you only live once" (illegally borrowing some famous last words here.)

So why waste it?

2009-04-15T06:52:00.007+05:30

Sometimes, getting by is enough. Three comes after two comes after one. Day after day after day. Winter winds down, spring spins into summer, which falls into fall and then freezes again in a snowy surprise. I am ageing. I can see it. Not in the mirror, but in my mind. I'm softer now than I ever was before. I've stopped forgetting. All the people I have reclaimed from myself, my own gems polished to perfection. Kept close to the heart because I've let them go before. Should I want to need them one day. I'm ageing, but not so you can tell. What you can tell though is that I am trying not to lie these days. You just have to look in my eyes. Do you see something burning there? Pain teaches you the most. The biggest lesson is learning to feel pain. The anger is spent. But I never seem to learn. I'm going to dignify this grand old age of mine - and this eight year old anger. I have plans for myself even I don't know yet. Like fireflies they flicker evanescently inside my head, which took me such a long time to empty. For just this purpose.

Pain helps.

I really need to go home. Really.

2009-04-08T06:28:00.002+05:30

What is it inside of you that makes you take a boy walking by alone - a brown boy, a big boy with a teddy bear gentleness to him, who didn't abuse you or tease your girlfriend, didn't invade your privacy or make himself a nuisance to you, who only just walked by - late, late in the deep cool night - a guest in your city -

What is it inside of you that you took out on him? Beat him to a pulp? Take away his eye?

What is it?

Things I Live For - II

2009-03-29T08:04:00.008+05:30

Changed landscape, peoplescape and lifescape - but what really changes?

Some more of those things I live for, everyday -

- An incipient spring, and shy pink flowers that nod at me as I walk to work every morning.

- Having a six minute walk to work!

- To still be as silly about pink flowers after a year of living the Real Life as I ever was. Hmm. I don't think this is going to go away.

- Exchanging early morning pleasantries with my dollar cart caffeinator, and waking myself up with real coffee that kicks Starbucks ass.

- For the daily largesse that come from one or another VP - "Coffe and donuts by the usual spot" or "Cookies by Kara courtesy my daughter." You gotta love them.

- More of the same when the VPs and MDs go around the floor discreetly alerting everyone that the aim is to get out by 5 today. It's a bit like cool kids urging the class to bunk.
Even after all this time, it still thrills me to be able to return home in broad daylight. Get some time alone with me.

- For my studio apartment, an over-expensive downtown Manhattan joint which is my first big purchase (ok, rental) for myself since I have started working. I feel safe and happy in it like nowhere else.

- For lazy weekend mornings spent entirely on the phone making one phone call after another to catch up, really catch up. To feel closer than ever with people who are across the world from me. To know some of them have found love. To know some of them have found success. To know some of them are living life the way they always wanted, squeezing it to the last drop.
To feel silly with pride and dizzy with happiness for them.

- To know that if anyone ever spoke delusional babble, it was me - and that distance makes absolutely no difference to love. Except maybe make it grow even more.

- To be able to go out at ten in the night to start the revelries. To feel safe coming back at 4. To be able to breathe in cool, clean air. To walk. To live in a city where people from every corner of the world survive together largely in peace. I'd still say they are even kind to each other (the famous New Yorker attitude still seems super polite to me after years of Delhi abruptness.) For Village and mid-town and some more arcane City splendours. For some new faces and friends, and some old relationships reaffirmed once more here in this City.

Yes, for New York City that - in the words of the Little Prince - has tamed me.

- To travel! So much seen, and so much yet to see. For downing a raw oyster in an old Bostonian Oyster house to supping on an all American Thanksgiving dinner in Connecticut, to listening to the stories told by DC's monuments. For all the sights these famished eyes are yet to see.

- To break new records in parent-child telephonic conversation lengths once every while. To be able to talk to Papa about 60 different things in 60 minutes. To come up with the zaniest of ideas and plans, all the while knowing that given maybe an initial moment or two of pause, he will get as excited about it as me. No matter what it is.

- And still for rain, for perfumes, for music, for shopping sprees, for light and shade, for laughter and for storms.

So, what really changes?

Why, nothing at all.

2009-03-18T05:17:00.004+05:30

Asking for vacation is a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, you get it.

On the other hand, the wait begins.

I'm coming home. With or without symmetry.

For Lambu

2009-03-15T21:53:00.003+05:30

There are a few people we meet who touch us inside. I don't know what it is about you, or about me, that made us friends in spite of all our differences. Of all people in College, you were one person I would never have imagined getting so close to. Your energy versus my deliberate calm, your way of shaking up the world versus my way of staying within myself.

You baskie woman, me Eco geek :-)

Who would have thought?

I'm so glad to have found you in this big, big world. Thanks for everything - for teaching me about friendship, showing me what patience is - even when I tested yours time and again :-), and for being an incredible example of strength and achievement. I'm just so proud of the person you are.

Hold up
Hold on
Dont be scared
Youll never change whats been and gone

May your smile
Shine on
Dont be scared
Your destiny will keep you warm

Cos all of the stars
Are fading away
Just try not to worry
Youll see them some day
Take what you need
And be on your way

And never ever cry, just call me! I'll never be too far away :-)

The Beginners' Guide to Women and Other Common Diseases (contd.)

2009-03-11T07:09:00.009+05:30

Exh. H: The Excitable Enclave

This type typically exists only in very close proximity to other members of this tribe. Characterized by common rituals of excessive screeching, hand-waving, jumping and minimalist-style dressing makes this type difficult to miss, even if one tries their best to miss them. The mantra here is "I must be the center of not only mine, but everyone elses' universe as well." (One notch ahead of the Princess, ref: Exh B)
Ubiquitous. As abundantly available in "Cool hang out spots" on campuses, as, (much to the chagrin of your undrunk coffee and unsolved crossword puzzle), a Barista, or the other Quiet Zones of your little life.

Ref also: Organized Crime > Gangs > Girl Gangs

Exh I: My-Boyfriend-This-My-Boyfriend-That

This subspecimen is probably the most annoying of the lot. Her life, the universe and eveything else revolves around some poor chappie - who probably still doesn't know what hit him. More power to him. And may she find another topic of conversation - one of these days.

Ref also: How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days

Exh J: The Activist

Women's Liberation? Child labour? Animal Rights? Darfur? WTO? World Peace? Before you name the cause, this lady will support it. She can be easily identified by her habitual wearing of ethnic outfits, avoidance of any obvious attempt to look too good, pierced nose and kajal eyes, and the unmistakeable jhola (from People Tree to be exact.) She has a passionate, well-informed and very well-voiced opinion on almost everything there is - but if you don't agree with her, you are probably not going to survive to tell the tale.

Ref also: LSR, No-I'm-Not-a-Stephanian-Snob

Exh K: The Party Girl

Diametrically opposite to our lady above, this swinger can be found covered from head to toe in all that isn't natural and herbal. She could save a rainforest or two if she lay off some of the product in her hair - unfortunately she doesn't give a damn. Found most weekends sipping a Margarita somewhere in the Village (or as geography might suit), she believes in live-and-let-live-and-let's-have-some-fun-in-the-meantime.
Can be home-grown in vats of wine. Prone to giggling, dancing and making loud proclamations on a variety of subjects. Mostly post-midnight.

Ref also: The Other Mecca

2009-03-11T06:42:00.009+05:30

Seven earthly pleasures. Seven deadly sins.

Seven heavens, seven oceans.

The same seven complaints everybody has of me.

Seven pale orange roses, trampled on the roadside.

Seven reasons to believe - and seven ways to say goodbye.

Seven million stars in the sky tonight.

Seven shadowy memories, each from one past life.

The seven colours of this rainbow of ours.

The seven digits of your very first telephone number.

Seven dreamless nights of your week. When I do all your dreaming.

Seven little girls digging tunnels in the sandpit, seven muddy hands finding one another.

Seven sparrows, sipping the rainy road.

Seven other guys.

Six perfumes of mine and the one which is yours alone.

The seven wonders that are in your smile.

The seven hours that are in between us.

Seven thousand years ago I made a promise to you. It's going to take a while longer for me to keep. If you could just wait right here?

2009-03-11T05:43:00.005+05:30

Still she smiles, like inside of her she has a secret. The age lines run deeper still, but her smile is still a powerful spell. And then there is the orange sunset. Twilight starts smudging the sky. All around her is the song of birds coming home. But she is leaving, and she smiles.

OK - Because I am True to my Word -

2009-03-04T08:07:00.013+05:30

And because
1- All my recent posts sound like diaspora bilge
2- A little girl needs a little reminding
...I will now proceed to honour what I promised y'all here.

Let's start afresh, shall we? This post will hereby be known as

"Madness Simplified: A Beginner's Guide to Women and Other Common Diseases"

Let this be said at the outset. This post does not pertain to incredibly cool fictional characters like Kira Argounova or Ginny Weasley. But my promise to you is that it pertains to almost every real woman there is. I have known several very closely. Coincidentally, I am one. And the honest fact is no matter how adorable, how witty, beautiful, caring or elegant she is - each and every woman has something wired into her circuitry that makes it very tough sometimes to not strangle her. (Not that one doesn't regularly feel the odd urge to strangle a boy or two - but let's stick with the agenda at hand.)

So we start:

Exh A: I'm too pretty, sil vous plait?

The Delicate Darling - observed frequently in South Delhi car-pools (yes, that drive to North campus for two hours because they are not physically and emotionally capable of riding the metro) or found prettily chewing on half a momo seated gorgeously in SCR lawns. Those that don't go with the feminist squad that is - and a non-rezzie rarely does. (NB: why's that?) Conversation centers dangerously around boys, hair and weight with snippets on foreign vacations and shopping.

Also ref: Women I Just Can't Talk To, Rezzies Rock

Exh B: The Princess Complex

This type feels that no matter who or what you are - she owns you. This applies to everybody - close friends, family, the odd acquaintence met once or twice, and anyone having the privilege of regular contact with this specimen - e.g. cheuffers, colleagues, and even teachers.

Charcateristics extend from expectations of commanding the unconditional love, affection and respect of the general populace, to requirements of inordinate amounts of pampering, to a vicious temper that burns erring subjects.

Also ref: Expert Emotional Blackmail, GoldenGirl

Exh C: The Weight Issue

Except for exactly one girl whom I met in College (and let's face it she was a national level tennis champion and thus probably immune) I have never met a single woman who was happy with her weight and related attributes.

Category A includes those that want to "reduce" (the majority) - with no consideration for the fact that if they actually lost as much weight as they would like to, they would look like sickly stick insects. They also mostly have distorted self images with humongous thighs, flappy arms or fat ears that they just cannot stop thinking about.

The Incidental Category A Specimen will alternate between having soup and a cracker for lunch, and taking off for Financier's in the evening to polish off two pastries by herself. The Intense Category A Specimen will go to the gym daily, discuss in detail how many calories she consumed and lost that day, and refuse wine (!) because of the calorie-content. (Inexcusable behaviour.)

Category B includes those that have in their childhood and/or teenage been "forced" to consume "One whole Dairy Milk every day can you imagine Megha!!" to weight supplements, milk, and dry fruits in hopes of being made somehow more comely in the course of the automatic shape shifting that such a diet is widely expected to cause.

Also ref: Phantom gymmer, Financier's - Evil on the Street

Exh D: Misc. Other Self-Issues

This type is often distressed with herself. She is kind, wise, witty, she can go from talking about Quantum Mechanics to Mozart to Bharatnatyam to Yoga all in the blink of an eyelid - yet finds herself lacking in that elusive department called "self-love". It's not like she doesn't like herself - it's just that she sometimes doesn't like herself enough to tell Doubt to go take a hike. Each time she looks away, it comes back. She can never put her finger on it, but there's something she thinks she's missing.

Methinks what she needs to realize is she already has everything - except this very realization.

Also ref: Women I Love, Growing up

Exh E: Maybe-when-he-said-abc-he-really-meant-xyz-which-would-imply-pqr-but-one-and-a-half-years-back-he-said-uvw-and-THAT-just-makes-him-a-complicated-freak (meh!)

Need I explain? It's a condition. Somewhat congenital, rarely remediable. OK, let' not over-analyze this now.

Exh F: The I-Don't-Like-Women Syndrome

Many women you will meet have been down this road. They decide, at some early stage in life, that guys are just so much better, y'know? They are nicer, sweeter, less complicated. They are never jealous of your popularity or your grades and they almost never have an unspoken ego problem with you. They are, in fact, angels when compared to girls.

Statistics show that it takes time - but one eventually reaches the realization that there is nothing like 'em girlies! When you're really down and out, they often know best, and they know you best. Not to say guys aren't there for you - but what's life without girlfriends?

Also ref: Recent Realizations, Girl-friends, Women I love

Exh G: "Losing My Way is My Way of Life"

:-( OK, OK. What IS it with directions? And tech things? OK, some of us are and some of us are not engineers by training. But why is it that the thought of the insides of a car practically gives most womenkind dysentry where as one knows men on whom it has a disturbingly opposite effect? It's the same with computers, all hardware, software, related goodstuff, electronics, gizmos, visual basic.

Someone, please rewind back to the world without all these things I didn't order!! This whole set up is giving the male of the species an unfair evolutionary advantage. Grumble grumble.

--- to be continued ---

More Snippets

2009-03-03T08:54:00.010+05:30

Scant seconds have passed since the last few flakes had brushed downwards. Its late enough in the winter for it to be light enough this early. In this newborn light I can see everything is a whitish blue. Its a miracle that I am here. That an organism born halfway across the world, brought up on a diet of semi-solid Delhi summers, is warmly ensconsed in the womb of this snow storm today.Those summers, they insulate me still.
Contrasts are everywhere. Now with my nose pressed against this sub zero window pane, when the snow picks up again, I think some Monsoon thoughts. This is something I deliberately do. When strolling down 5th Ave I conjure up GKII in every bustling detail that I can recall. During my tossed salad lunch I let some thoughts stray towards steaming bowls of rajma. My boots and dresses still leave me feeling like I'll just slip into one of my fab india kurtas at the end of the day.

And in this pristine snow white land, I think of Monsoon in all its muddy glory.

I think, maybe, I do it so I don't forget all that I am - a sum of all parts.

Its when nature is at its most feral that I can most readily believe that I too am an animal. Made up of fluids and cells and capillaries and intertwined muscles, and I too - cooked right - could be summarized as just another bit of edible flesh. An animal, but like no other. These thoughts, these feelings, this sense of being Creation's own, came from its soul - and there they will return, after the final storm is past.

It's all such a miracle.

Snippets

2009-03-03T08:21:00.002+05:30

"Not young. Not old. But a viable die-able age."

The Biggest Fear

2009-02-26T08:11:00.004+05:30

These days the thought that really scares me is this:
That bustling-about, office-going, formal-wearing, people-managing, smiling-smiling-smiling, coffee-chugging, excel-tapping, paper-working, early-waking, sleep-walking, fast-talking - somewhere, someday - I will lose myself.

NB: Interesting experience: Try to take someone who doesn't know about it, out on Ash Wednesday. Watch their reaction.

I am ..

2009-02-09T05:05:00.004+05:30

.. madly, helplessly, hopelessly in love with my new apartment. It is beauty itself. Will do a picture post soon.

Observation I: Setting up house, while falling amongst the hardest physical labour one might ever do in life. doesn't feel like work at all.. why is that?
Observation II: Discovered a small library in the Solarium in the building. To which I have 24 hour access. Suddenly felt the same old, astonishingly forceful desire that I used to feel when seeing a treasure trove of books like this.. maybe when I was ten?
It's a delicious feeling.

2008 - The Year That Was

2009-01-25T10:11:00.005+05:30

(Better late than never right?)

Continents lived in: Three
Divisions worked in: Three
Bloodshed witnessed: Massive
Meltdowns and Bankruptcies: Still counting...
Sisteres married off: The one and only :)
Concerts watched: Three
Good movie seen: Slumdog (Just love those kids actually. Rest is decent.)
Bad movies seen: Oh so many. Some things never change.
So many musicals and plays. So many bands and bars. So many songs and seasons. So many, so much.....

Meanings to this life: Pondered, lost and regained :)
A year of sharp twists and turns. Ladies and gentlemen, 2008 was the year I (finally) grew up.

So you come with me. We play at being adults a while. Work in a bank or two - even as others go under, go about our days, buy groceries, cook and feed, pay bills out of money we earn, see new places and new people.
And then one day we realize that somewhere it stopped being a game and became.. life.

I bandy about the oldest excuse in the world till I see its hollowness myself. You believe, and we find that it makes all the difference between being incomplete and being whole.

See lives changing within a split second, empires tumbling and dreams shattering and vow that we will never let this be what we are about. Whatever tomorrow brings.

Then I go home, mix my own martini maybe..
Maybe get a quick book out (maybe?)
Maybe get my nose pierced (maybe?)
And go on dreaming. Always. Go on living.

Thanks 2008 - Now I've seen everything.

2008 - The Year That Was

2009-01-22T09:17:00.003+05:30

Time it was, and what a time it was........
Please don't get mad at me. Coming up soon. Insanely busy. And 2008 really was something, wasn't it?

The Winter of My Content

2008-12-30T06:13:00.013+05:30

(...Or How to Boot Out a Mostly Rubbish Year in Style)

7. Migrate to a country where December is one giant holiday. If not officially a holiday, or a self-willed half-day, the time in office, you will find, is spent mostly dreaming of the times when you will not be found there.

6. Though at the best of times you can not be classified a prudent or careful spender, you now turn to the shops like a bloodhound. Make like there is no tomorrow whatsoever. Commiserating with the pitiable state of American retail, land up at malls, gulp in the discounts like pure, cool oxygen, and participate in what can only be termed as severe retail damage activity.

5. Forget that you are a creature of habit who shall only consume salads for lunch and cheeseless subs for dinner. Go at the fondues and cookies and brownies and commit other such cardinal sins with wild abandon. The time is now.

4. After new snow falls, and before the world ruins your fresh white canvas... leave your (foot)mark!

3. While in Delhi in approximately 25 degrees minimum temperatures you would have contracted semi-bronchitis, the racking severity of which would have raised the dead - here, bundled from head to toe in winter finery that you are so prone to losing, a piece at a time, flatly refuse to fall ill. Or even catch cold.

2. Alice in Winterland. Revel at the final marvel: the last big piece of itself that the City had been keeping for you. Realize you love winter. And that seals your deal with New York. Feel the triumph that comes from making your way to work after walking fifteen minutes through howling icy wind at minus ten degrees. And on your way to work one day when you notice a giant lopsided christmas tree in front of the flag coloured NYSE materialized out of the blue, you take it in your stride. (And forgive them their mess, for they are probably just being symbolic.)

1. Invite over friends and gentlemen of somewhat chequered simian repute and be spoilt rotten to your heart's content.

Ah, life. :)

Breaking News

2008-12-04T06:17:00.010+05:30

1. OK. So now I can claim to have the dubious distinction of corrupting forever the mind of a young child. Although I'm glad to have finally impacted someone's life (?), I can't help but wonder whether discouraging a perfectly beautiful person from thinking qualifies as a solid achievement.
Hmm. It's good to think about some stuff. What's right and wrong. About the world. How it works. How you tick. About people you love. About peace. All those awesome thoughts you write down!
Overthink everything you want, except yourself! You're totally 10 on 10. OK? OK.

But I know what you mean about adults and fully agree about their slimy ways.
Just forget about them. Let's play.

2. Hmm. Maybe I will do a sociological type post on how women think/their insecurities. Might be of some interest, but I'd mainly be going for shock value here. Let's see if I can muster up the strength.

3. Magic!

Starlight, starbright.

Buildings made of clouds!

Even more fun to look up at it with the clouds running at topspeed over it (there was a storm later that day.) You feel like you're falling over backwards.

And you thought there was no such thing as magic :)

For Pragya

2008-12-01T04:52:00.008+05:30

Wonder if you have ever felt this way? That while big things might keep changing, the atoms of life stay just the same. That there is continuity wrapped inside the kernel of all change. It hits me harder the farther away I am. New cities, new lives, new everything - and yet here I am, where I began. Almost to the day, a year ago, it was La Sagrada Familia that chimed evening lullabies to me. Tonight, its St. Mary's Church, a singing painting hanging on the wall of my backyard. I see its silhouette through rain-stained windows.
The voids between us - Carrer Lepanto's buildings or the breadth of my backyard - are permanent. Beyond the voids they merge, these twilight companions of mine. Oceans apart in space and time, but they are one shadow that stretches across one whole year of dusks of my life.

This backyard is beautiful, with its wrought iron basket chairs and its surfeit of fallen autumn leaves. Here, winter evenings from a class trip to Vrindavan a few years ago sometimes waft by with the woodsmoke. The bhajans of those Krishna-fanatics still fill the air. What were they celebrating? What is it about the music of God-lovers that makes it so permeate memories? What is it about some memories that makes them so permeate life?

I don't know if there is a God. But if there is one, I know He will take care of you. And for those who love you, you will stay on, in music and in memories. A vibrant shadow across all our collective years. Forever, with all the continuity of change. Take care, you.

The Trial

2008-11-29T10:16:00.011+05:30

Allegation: I'm a dissembler.
The case against me: If this blog is to be believed, I lead a charmed life. How?
Thesis: How can everything always be great, how can I always love life, don't I stress about stuff? Don't I have days when I hate myself and the world?

Naturally enough, those who ask these questions are mostly those who don't know me too well. Maybe they have seen me stress out a couple of times, they've probably heard me crib (about my weight, say - which is totally, hands down, my favourite thing to crib about - or my Finacc grades maybe?) And they can't figure this dichotomy out.

Here's the thing. It might sound like overreaching, but heck, this is my space to overreach in. And this space is part of my philosophy. (Yea, first there was Kant, then there was Nietzsche and then came me.)

I don't verbalize it all over the place, but this funny way I live is my belief, my living project.
And - because I am me - so is what I write, and what I choose not to write about.

The philosophy itself is simple though, and will not require reams of paper for you to understand:

I was born to be happy.
(And, quite possibly, so were you.)

And that's why I don't write about things that bog me down, because, quite simply, I'd rather throw them out of the window, if I can, or at least not write about them. Because that is equivalent to giving them life, a life in imagery. And I'd rather they died a natural death, unworded, in my head, than lived on in my own words.

Or, if not died, turned into something constructive that I did, so as to maybe even make a small difference.

So it doesn't equate not thinking, not feeling, or not acting. I do too much of the first two - and maybe can never do enough of the last.
It simply means not letting them in.

But, for the record, and for those of you who don't understand me at all, and need this for the rest of it to be real - (which is, to quote a poet who has been silent way too long, "A trifle sad. But what is not.") -

I also have these - days when no one and nothing makes sense, when I hate everything, everything, and don't see the point of anything at all. When I can't do anything at all about what's bothering me and it's not possible to forget it this time. Or its boiling, futile anger. Not just Bombay. It all suddenly ties in and then I take a look at everything and then I can't really breathe.

So to address the case against me, everything is of course not always great. I stress (oh, a lot. Ref: "About Me") and there are days when I hate much of what makes up the world.

But in my defense, I do believe that life is always worth living. Always.

And I never hate myself, because at the end of the day I'm all I got.

So, go ahead and sue me and all that. But when I die, put this on the damned tombstone:

"Lived recklessly. But completely without regret."

And I'll rest in peace.

..Because you said to write

2008-11-26T08:52:00.005+05:30

Here's to you, my friend.

You,

who (on occassion) managed to make even vegetarianism look good..
who put 4 upon 4 in every Fin course after wasting half your prep time solving "doubts"..
whose standard line was "Party karte hain yaar" (always combined with a lazy smile..)
who woke with the roosters and slept at Cinderella time..
who, (I'll finally give it to you), won our face-offs L^2 after L^2..
who certainly should have been on the cover instead, if beauty were all it took.. (I think cleavage became a parameter somewhere though. Hope you never get there!)
whom I wish I could give a big hug to!!!

And here's to Bombay dreams, to all of us back together once more. Soon.

Amen.

Muahahaha!!

2008-11-22T00:52:00.003+05:30

"I am banking on being risky"

OK I crack myself up every time!!!

(Sensible post coming up soon. Promise.)

All I Want For Christmas...

2008-11-15T11:02:00.005+05:30

...I am going to get :):)

Also in other news, reaffirmed: One faith in goodness of humanity. Was returned old iphone in one piece after it went missing for a week!

I mean, wow.

A Moment's Pause

2008-11-11T10:15:00.007+05:30

Solitude seeps in when I'm not looking. Oceans evaporate in moments, and very many sunny afternoons pass. I'm home. In the viscous sunlight. Not yellow. Amber. Back to the dusty trees I know. Dissolved in daydreams. Shivering in three sweaters with no conception of central heating. Swinging on an old garden swing. Going too high. Touching the display on an Exec bulletin board. Staybacks and Khan market. Taking an auto back and being completely inept at crossing roads in my own city. Where drivers aren't the antiseptic variety, stopping-ten-feet-shy-of-you. Spicy water dribbling down my chin, losing count in a golgappa binge. Embraced by August rain, posessed by an April storm. Enveloped by love. Seven years going on eight. Walking through Rud Court when the birds just-returned are kicking up their evening ruckus. A parakeet that talked. A four-year age gap. A pair of railway tracks next to two moon-shaped, sea-green water tanks. Books, bought by the armful between bouts of ushering, lent and lost. Home, where a part of me is reading by the lamplight. About to go to sleep.
The rest of me is just waking up.

A Walk To Remember

2008-11-10T06:30:00.004+05:30

and a non sequitur

2008-11-08T08:33:00.002+05:30

..And now that I have (finally) got it, can I get my nose pierced???

Megha!

2008-11-08T07:48:00.004+05:30

Girl of clouds. Wow.
Maybe I don't hate my name after all.

I'm impressed, Atticus. Had you known all along that one day I would finally get it?

Postcards - II

2008-11-05T10:06:00.003+05:30

There had never been any thank yous, never any sorries. That night in New York - one just like this - he had taken her to the Top of the Rock. The highest she had ever been. His gift to her - the wind, the night, the lights, and a gentle steadying hand on her back.

Back at home, she fussed with her Blackberry and ignored the food he had warmed up. A memory had come alive. He knew her troubled eyes but words had never been his thing. So he kept quiet.

Still she looked at him. And somehow, for the first time, she spoke. Looked down at her tiny hands as she did.

She was the little girl, waiting for Mummy to feed her.
What a pampered brat! Eleven and still hand-fed? Even Mummy was tired of her.
Every day she said it was the final time - but it never was.

Crushed inside the caprice of her confession, scarce did she notice his hand. But old habits took over. Without knowing she did so, she opened her mouth - and ate.
And then she burst into tears.

Just some old, old habits.

I've always known. Sometimes I'm the thoughtless idiot when I forget, but I know, have known, for a long time that she sent you. And the reason why she did.
Because the honest truth is - no one deserves so much love, not even me.

There might not be any sorries, and never any thank yous. But that doesn't mean that even a day goes by when I'm not thankful. That you are.

Mi Casa es su Casa and Other Stories

2008-11-03T09:56:00.012+05:30

Should have seen it coming when she was the only girl other than me who managed to fail an interview designed to pass the likes of us brilliant-beautiful types. (But I didn’t.)

Myriad conversations about the flat where I went "I'm OK with whatever you're OK with, really" and she said the same right back to me. And so it went, back and forth. (Didn't clue me in either.)

30 drunk desis at diwali and she is happy to try Sweet Riesling as opposed to going along with any other choice. (I see a strange little light.)

She not only loves food but promises to cook shrimp for me. (Heaven has sent me a little angel, I think.)

Random spur-of-the-moment suggestions about going shopping, going to watch crappy Hindi movies, going out to eat or to look at the trees in Central Park are not just accepted but enthusiastically carried out. (I'm in love :))

But nothing, nothing, nothing would have told me better that I have found the perfect flatmate-bordering-on-soul-twin than tonight when we wanted to celebrate our move into our new apartment - so after popping open some cold cold ones we discovered in the Fridge, cartons of which our generous benefactress has left behind - we remember what we were told about this TV being equipped with all Hindi channels, and just for kicks we decide to watch.

And as I push the only button on the remote that makes sense to me (Power On), try a few others, and then humbly pass on to her, she takes it, looks at it like in mild bewilderment, and then goes on to fiddle with it like I had ... like someone who hasn't used one before.

Suffice to say, people, that my flatmate totalllllyyyy rocks.

The week was exhausting but superb. Diwali and Halloween in quick succession, and there is as much festivity in the air as one can digest. I already touched upon the Diwali debauchery. Then on Friday, scores of random strangers congregated at Bleecker and McDougal, just having a good Halloween time. I met more than several scantily dressed Sailor-women, a Fred Flintstone, a chocolate chip cookie, several Pizza Slices, multiple groups of super heroes, many more Jokers in that nurse get-up than you would ever care to see, several bloodied severed bodies, monsters, witches along with the usual smattering of your average New Yorker about whom it is difficult always to tell whether or not they are in costume - such as the random man-in-only-bathrobe-walking-on-the-streets-looking-perfectly-at-home, or your random guy-who-will-flash-you-for-one-dollar. (And he really seems to believe he is offering you a sweet deal.)

Can't hardly wait for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Wrapped up the hysteria with a lovely weekend spent undergoing intense retail therapy, watching movies, ice-skating, doing the Times Square thing (I don't care if I sound like the biggest yahoo on the planet but I love that place and I love how its day at night there and I love Bubba Gump and all the fast cars and everything, everything) and (finally) moving to a place we can call our own (so cozy, so beautiful) and setting up house! I'm exhausted and sleepy and tired and I left a lot of my shopping at the mall - and so spanners have been put in lovely plans of wearing new clothes for the next two weeks - but BUT but I am ignoring all the jabs at my attention span and all I say to those who bug me is this, that this was the first time I bought myself anything - apart from the occasional perfume or shirt - so I deserve much more sympathy, and much fewer spiritied discussions on suspected causes of my mental atrophy.

For fun, let me leave you with a little something I thought of during a few slow minutes.
(And yes, we are back to countdown lists. I love 'em!)

Presenting the 7 best ways to kill time during a slowdown on your Street:

7. Discover the pleasures of online shopping. Send gifts to everyone and as a result suddenly thaw out many pissed friends. Feel ridiculously happy.

6. Acquire an i-phone. Of course, now is more of a commodity, neatly wedged below shelter and clothes - though way above food - on the necessities-of-life scale. This is a warped, twisted world.
But its seriously entertaining. Earlier I had to get lost all by myself, now I always have Google maps to help me do it.

5. Wager boisterously over who can come up with the largest possible number of how-do-i-still-have-my-job jokes, (until such a time as this applies to you.)

4. Stop giggling because the local bully threatened to mess with your happiness if you continued to...

3. ..Or, continue giggling, and return one day from getting yourself a coffee to find your cube miraculously piled with all the paper bins from the floor. And that is very many. (Based on a true story.)

2. This should suggest to you that a rubber band skirmish is brewing (they seem to spring up like rashes all over the floor at the slightest provocation), so practice how to snap a rubber band real quick - preferably pointed away from own face. (A.N. - Not easy)

And the number 1 way to kill time when there is a slowdown on your Street is:
1. Wake up early. Walk to work. Enjoy the view, caffeinate on the way. And hang on to your sense of humour.

Autumn and I

2008-10-27T09:21:00.004+05:30

OK. So everyone who has been asking me if I am alive/well, why the blog has become "defunct" (to quote a certain surly someone) and whether they might as well stop checking my page, I have the following to say:

- I'm still alive. Very.
- Contrary to popular perception, I am not too busy to write.
- I have never disguised the fact that I am as lazy as they come. But that's only part of the story.

Thing is, I am not a writer. Nor a thinker. Just a feeler. (Take away the dirty connotations of that.) I don't write because I write. I cannot control what I write, when I write and how I write it - "it just happens".

Very rarely - but sometimes it so happens that things are fundamentally at odds inside of me. That something's hassling the very core of me. You know what I mean by that, right? That little bit that's always happy no matter what. That little place I take my most important feelings and keep them and feel them until they burst out of me in words.

That little place I write from. When things are fundamentally at odds inside of me, it turns silent.

But this is what I wanted to tell you. That place, which defines me and my very being - it might quieten down sometimes - but it'll never go away. Trust me on that one. Believe me. I am nothing if not that, that little pulsating core of irrational happiness. The strange little girl whose favourite parts of the days are the mornings and those very late nights at work when every moment is pure peace. Who loves more than anything her walk to work, finding her way around this city by just feeling it. Like she's never found any place before. Who envies the old guy who sits on the bench in the Trinity Church courtyard - that oasis of peace - every morning, oblivious to the bustling bankers and to a world falling apart. Who makes it a point to change her coffee vendor each morning - a new vendor for a new compliment for every new day. Vanity is so underrated. Who is still waiting for the honey kissed trees to fulfill their tantalizing autumn promise.

Who sometimes cannot fathom what she's on - just that she wants more of it.

Is it that the city has made me its own? Or have I made it mine?

No one knows how long it'll last. A day, a week, a month. But isn't it true, that the only thing that really truly matters is to know that life isn't always beautiful - but that it's always worth living?

Every moment.

2008-10-10T21:15:00.003+05:30

R.O.F.L.!!

Discovery Credits : The recently devalued Monkeyman

2008-10-07T19:06:00.002+05:30

"...but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday."

Never meant anything more in my life I think.

Goodbye, London.

Closure

2008-07-17T14:19:00.006+05:30

Here's the thing. I am not likely to remember all the really annoying people who live in my building. I am not sure I would recognize them if I met them on the street today. But you knew that about me. There is an angle on my balcony that juts out in a crazy way so that when it storms it's difficult not to get blown away. That, I'll miss. Last night, with the power failure, talking to Papa with Ring Road cars spraying crystals of light across his walls, zipping by. That too. The three things that Narendra Bhaiya actually knows how to make - daal, chhole, kababs. Everyday when I grab a sandwich they will probably be passing thoughts. Three months from now it'll have been at least a few weeks since we've talked. You, you and you will be angry at me. As usual. You, you might start whispering I've changed, every chance you get, to anyone who'll listen. It's one of the many reasons I don't like you. Look. It's simple. I am unlikely to remember and unlikely to forget. It is possible to be alive and so acutely aware of the fact that now, now, at this very moment, you are the happiest you will ever be. And it's also possible to go on living and not give a damn. What should it be? Isn't that a choice you make every time you waste another hour of your life being just anybody? What will it be?
Isn't that the choice you make every time you let go?

Words have their own stories. So long. It's only a murmur.

I'm unlikely to remember. But I am unlikely to forget.

What Zey Call Ze Timely Realization

2008-07-04T17:33:00.001+05:30

... Fin is fun :)

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

2008-07-02T22:52:00.004+05:30

Just 'coz I am so random today.

Song

-Jaroslav Seifert

"We wave a handkerchief
on parting,
every day something's ending,
something beautiful's ending.

The carrier pigeon beats the air,
returning;
with hope or without hope
we are always returning.

Go dry your tears
and smile with eyes still smarting,
everyday something's starting,
something beautiful's starting."

And my all time favourite lines about being in a place that's empty and full at the same time -

"The riverbed, dried up, half-full of leaves.
Us, listening to a river in the trees."

- Seamus Heaney

Flashback 2006

2008-07-01T22:38:00.007+05:30

It's been all about goodbyes these past few days. Read so many people's blogs about their last moments in B. Each felt the parting in their own way, each was unique. I too said goodbye to the places and people I love, trying in a few last moments to capture and hold on to the innocence and exuberance of life there. I have kept off the topic because to write is to remember and to remember is to hurt.

It really pinches though, to see a new batch fall as easily into our place of two years back as if we were never there. The storyline reads the same, the same shock, panic, and the same slow glow of understanding spreading through another bunch of twenty-somethings whose lives are to be changed forever by the same cosmic double coincidence of a few aspirations and a few abilities. Even if they don't yet know quite how, and quite how much.

That first term in IIMB, unquestionably the strongest in both scope and pace, unquestionably some of the best days of my life. I remember it all.

- Almost falling asleep, face cupped in one hand with my elbow on my mentor's computer table as he went on with his "brief summary" of the entire course of BGS before that all-important track-determing exam held so early in our careers there. I remember thinking to myself, I know this stuff, I don't know this stuff, maybe I should tell him I know this stuff... hold on... I don't know this stuff... oh bugger it... yawwn..
Going on well into the wee hours of the morning. A more helpful mentor I could not have asked for!!

- Stumbling into the same mentor's room after my first zero in the first M.O. pop quiz, somewhat dazed since I didn't even know why I had a zero, and trying to ask the Professor after the class had left a really bad taste in my mouth. He had looked at me stonily saying, you have not written the answer, and I muttered, as confused as can be, umm...this is the answer, and he says this is not the answer. You don't have the answer. And he looks at me like I was someone who was bugging the Professor after class to reevaluate their answer when they did not know the answer in the first place.

Quickly turned on heel and left. Never, ever again.

My mentor laughed, recalling fondly, "Oh I got a zero on my first quiz too. Don't worry I put 4 finally."

- Asking random seniors to fill up insane ice breaking forms and watching them dither over the name of their favourite PGP1, all the while wondering - Is this place for real? Really real? You have got to be kidding me!

- Pure disgust the first few nights as sleep was kept at bay for reasons I fully failed to fathom. Since my sister had made it her favourite hobby to make and refine version upon version of my CV roughly since the time she first made her own (I was maybe fifteen then) and thus being in possession of a passable copy, I couldn't understand what the fuss was all about. Didn't everyone already have one? (As it turned out they did not.)

- Trying to be heard over lusty roars emanating from row upon darkened row of seniors, led by the clearly discernible booming voice that belonged to none other than my own College-senior. The same one who had assured me a few hours before the show - as I moodily contemplated backing out of compeering when I got a whiff of what was to come - "We are planning something but it's a joke on someone else so it won't affect you. You do your own thing ok? Don't worry."
Thus boosted, I walked onstage only to realize that I could sing the national anthem for all that could be heard of my script over the mass catcalls and jeers. Agreed, they weren't directed at me per se. Totally disagree though, that they didn't affect me.

Left the stage that night never to voluntarily go on again.

- Another mentor this time, a brief friendship that I would cherish for life. An echo, it seemed, of my simmering-under-the-surface dissatisfaction with things as they were, was his own very vocal vexation with the same. Discussing everything under the sun from writing to our chosen careers, both of us brash, pug-faced kids, really, in the guise of grown-ups. I think we sometimes helped each other be less pissed off with all the things that we thought were wrong with that world.

- Bumping on the first day into someone who looked so familiar, I felt as if I knew him from somewhere. But of course, I didn't. An instant friendship blossoming out of a sudden, complete mutual understanding - a resonance of sorts - that I could not explain to myself then. And after all this time, can't explain today.

- The people, the strangers, and eventually the friends! Staying up night after night after night, going on moonlight jaunts around campus or on the KL roof, with a lot of purple flowers picked up outside of SBM and tucked into unwilling heads of hair, pizzas ordered and the instantaneous materialization in full strength of the "pizza party gang" (till date I shudder at the name), being practically hand-fed personally-delivered sandwiches and pampered with chocolates when I was ill that fateful day of the candle-light protest, an L^2 where cherished friends opted to change their orientations for a single night just in order to be there for one, and always, always the euphoria that came from the certainty of knowing you love them in this moment and in this very same moment, they love you back.

- Thanks to an alumni-networking event before joining, being enlightened about the culture of Fash P's at B - another concept I struggled to come to terms with during my entire stint there.

- The madness, the madness, the joy, the madness. The mugging, the drifting off, the CCD trips and the coffees, the bike rides and the Forum food court prawns, the teaching and being tutored, lasting friendships and bubble-like imposters, the parties and the PDPs, the joy of a job well done and remorse at doing worse than you've ever done, all eventually coalescing into a semi-conscious understanding and the eventual fully-conscious decision of what you, here, will choose to be all about.
The magic, the madness, and the joy.
With two whole years, five whole terms, yet to come.

So much more to be said about that place which was so effed up and so effing wonderful at the same time. But I can't wring out any more words. It's all about goodbyes these days, and to be honest - I'm not too sure how many more I can take.

Wandering More

2008-06-16T19:54:00.007+05:30

...On Calcutta

I am the only Delhiite whom I have ever heard say they loved Calcutta - and I am not, in fact, Bengali or even part Bengali, have never been, and cannot really explain the presence of what some of you find to be Mongoloid features on my face any better than you can.

I went to Calcutta very many times - mostly during that epoch when Piki used to waft weightlessly about a campus there that was as large as she was tiny and where she was alway narrowly avoiding spilling into this or that lake.

And I loved Calcutta like mad. It was a passion borne out of real love-at-first-sight with the Cal metro, and of wandering in a blissful daze along College Street, an ancient copy of Anna Karenina purchased for 15 rupees in hand. Of returning with a suitcase full of new old books. It came from the lyrical juxtaposition of the dancing musical fountain against the imposing Victoria Memorial on a lovely summer evening. From the haunting, surreal architecture of the city. It sprang from a coffee shop from long ago that still housed white kurta-clad table-thumpers discussing their ideals and their perfect world.
From accidentally walking in on a city, a people, a feeling, that were frozen in time.

It's strange to fall out of love. Stranger still to fall out of love without a reason. When the same things that used to be wonderful about a certain thing, become those that irk.

I found myself looking at the dirty crumbling black walls trying to figure out why the incessant rain doesn't just wash off the soot. Of course, the scars of age can't just be washed away.
Scars, however - they can add character but they can also show neglect.

Matched the city's sleepy gait in leisurely strolls with cousins and friends. Made sure to exploit Kookie Jar and some legendary Calcutta restaurants - according to me still the best food in all of India - and dirt cheap. Saw much better weather than I have ever seen there.

But it was all different. I felt more keenly the humidity and the mosquitoes. I watched sleepy, sweaty people filling up every crevice. The crowded, crowded roads. The very large waves of humanity that suddenly together decide to cross Howrah Bridge so that your car has no option but to wait for them to pass. Restaurants that refuse to let you make reservations in order to be "fair". A city that's several decades behind times. The magic was gone.

What had changed?

Summer Days - Part II

2008-06-12T00:58:00.003+05:30

Or - The top ten things not to do when you decide to go to Genting for a couple of days while you are on vacation in Singapore.

Don't:

10. because you picked up a map for the first time in your life and now vaguely know the shape of the landmass you are currently on, figure things are as close as they look.

(A.N. Malaysia is a different country and it is actually not a two hour stroll that your spatially challenged head says it sure looks like.)

9. limit your preparation for the actual journey to talking about how much you have gambled before and wager boisterously over how much each of you will win.

(A.N. Booking hotel room, converting forex, knowing the route - these are other prudent starting points.)

8. oversleep on the day of the trip, as on every other day.

(A.N. You will realize somewhere along the line that you have an eight hour journey ahead of you and you will reach at pretty ungodly hours in the strange foreign land if you leave now, i.e., well after noon.)

7. even so, don't book a hotel room. Instead, check a shady site that tells you it is "Low Tourist Season" starting this week. So, assume that you will be spoilt for choice about where to stay at reasonable rates when you land up.

Also, pack only a toothbrush and one shirt in order to travel light since you plan to be back the next day.

6. further, assume "On Arrival Visa" must mean some sort of ten-man welcoming parties standing at various closely clustered points along the border to hold your hand and usher you in. So, take a cab from the last possible metro station and try to get across any which way that suits your fancy ending up in no man's military land between two coastal south east Asian nations.

(A.N. It is likely that you will be told to go right back. After a couple of such hit and trials, you might find yourself actually asking someone how exactly this visa business is done, then backtracking halfway across Singapore in order to go through on the one correct bus to reach the terminal where you might be granted an entry visa.)

5. if, somewhere around this time, you remember you have no currency whatsoever of the country you are visiting, decide to just pick up some at any money changer nearby.

(A.N. You will now run around for two hours, caught in an elaborate collective scheme of the locals to keep you chasing elusive, mythical 7/11s ("right round the corner"), banks, and sundry other non existent commercial/non-commercial outfits next to which you are supposed to find several non existent money changers. Finally you shall find one, do your business, and then run back to get onto the single bus that will get you to the single correct point on the border.)

4. at the immigration terminal, foolishly walk away alone in the company of a smiling cheery immigration officer who promptly will ask you for a 50% bribe the moment you are out of earshot of other cheery immigration officers, stating for it reasons such as your carrying an e-ticket instead of a "real" ticket.

(A.N. Not wanting to make trouble at the border or knowing how things work here, you might then pay him off only to later talk to fellow visa applicants and learn you were the only one asked for this donation.)

3. get to KL in a random bus (which you later realize totally ripped you off) and after being hit on by the driver, conductor and other scattered gentry for no other earthly reason than having been standing there, somehow catch a cab at KL for Genting - and realize, as the landscaping turns slowly more vertical that you are headed uphill.

(A.N. By the time you reach Genting you will be quite cold, it being very significantly above sea level and in fact a hill resort, but of course you will have for your protection your toothbrush and nightshirt.)

2. refuse to worry about this since you shall be toasty warm in a hotel room soon, so you head over to First World Hotel which looks like a carnival this late at night and was till recent times the largest hotel in the world at some 6000 + rooms. Plus this is Low Tourist Season, as the site said. So you walk to the reception desk and ask to be booked into one.

When you are told all is booked you choose to go to one of the other huge hotels that are interconnected in this giant, Vegas like entertainment haven complete with amusement parks, casinos, movie theatres, eating joints, which stay open all night. So you walk uphill over to another hotel and the same thing happens. The locals and tourists have been at the bottles for some time and you might find them yelling things at you across the hotel lobbies that you thankfully don't quite understand. And as you are told by one enterprising receptionist that in fact all the five giant hotels in that complex are fully booked, you vaguely register that reading "Low Tourist Season" isn't exactly a top-brass guarantee of a room, and could in fact mean almost anything. You walk back, freezing, to the First World Hotel and camp out at Starbucks to devise your strategy.

Finally decide all is bunk, pig out on a ton of Kenny Rogers chicken, watch the last showing of Chronicles of Narnia that lasts till 4 AM and then hit the casino, all in a giant gale of night-time revelry.

And the number one thing not to do when visiting Genting for a mini-break having taken so much trouble with the crazed cabs, buses, ghosts of money changers and venal border forces, is:

1. To lose, lose, lose! Alas! Except for brief, brilliant, fleeting moments of glory (such as betting only on the number 3 and all three dice turning to a 3, making you the only winner at the table and a pretty big one at that), to lose all that was and all that could have been.

Singy in the Rain!

2008-06-09T23:49:00.005+05:30

To enjoy Singapore, it turns out, you have to either be a compulsive shopper or a compulsive six year old. Since I am a bit of both, I can't get over it. It's green and organized and clean and safe and it has everything in a tiny space. The food options are way too many and the prices a pleasant shock after Europe. The only problem I see with it, the way I see it, is the speed limit of 90 kmph (kinda loose at night when sparsely scattered cars liberally speed up to a wild 100), disconcertingly ignored vast stretches of perfect road stretching ahead of well-oiled wondercars.
While Frick and Frack were mugging for their test I was off with Aquila being a chick, as she likes to call it. Thanks to the amazing prices I am now a proud owner of a new wardrobe, although barely a dent has been made to the original shopping list (formal office clothes...yawn yawn). Bhaiya generously took us out on drives and showed us lovely night time views and local hang out spots. A night safari spent in the close company of fruit bats, a Jurong park trip meeting several crazy birds and seeing them hoop-hopping and making human conversation. The deadest Hard Rock Cafe in the entire world, and a pretty fantastic Sentosa - where I played the responsible one and stayed off the luge because of the back - and let me tell you it looked pretty darn fun - but a super cool sounds and lights show and sky ride and dolphins' show (yet another bunch of people who are smarter than me!), kinda made up for it. My absolute favourite in the whole island, however, were the angel fish in the underwater world, little angel look-alike jelly creatures (tinyyyy things) with glowing red insides. Being in the midst of secondary tropical rain forests, we went on the nature walk but realized our mistake when twilight quickly started turning to inky night with no end in sight and the way long lost. We doubled right back when we realized how grim the situation really was (realizing the trail was deserted and probably no longer a tourist area at all), we headed back the way we had come to safety, with no further incident other than a bull-frog scare (darn them large lunged twerps!) Caught up tonight with College junta here, happy to expostulate on Ponds' murkier personality traits. As always.
Off to Genting tomorrow, more later!

Time II

2008-06-09T22:57:00.007+05:30

And when I'm gone so far your thoughts will have to stretch just to fit me in. The effort of stretching will tire them and they will be stale thoughts by when they reach me. And the days, which are ours together, will be ours apart. And your time too, it will tire by when it reaches me. And so you will live in distant arcs of untrammeled indifference. And of my tired thoughts. And I will live in days already lived in by you, in stale distant arcs of your time.
But nothing is more distant than memories you forget.

Summer Days - Part I

2008-05-25T05:00:00.004+05:30

It seems I am missing out on some seriously awesome pre-monsoon season in Delhi. But since this trade-off gives me a few days of only, like, the best vacation ever, I don't fully mind - too much.

But I do so hate that treacherous streak the ol' city has, being good always when I am away.

So, I have been up to a lot. I have also been cured of my borrowing streak for good, when on my very first day here I went out wearing Piki's shoes and, well, my feet still bear the signs of torture.
On the whole, mis amigos, it's just not worth it. (This qualifies for a spiritual epiphany, don't you think so?)

I have taken to waking up at any desired time and to my sister's consternation, getting quickly ready and dragging her out somewhere or the other. If it's not her it's been one of the junta in London who, unfortunately, all seem to be about to start with their final exams, but who, fortunately, always seem ready to take a break meeting lil' me :)

Random recollections from this, a holiday out of what will be my last official summer vacations, and which is steadily catapulting into the best days of my life hall of fame.

- Revisiting my favourite thing about London - the parks. A more tucked away discovery is Regent's Park, which has a little nook called Queen's Garden, which is full of roses of every shade, shape and size - along with a zillion other flowers. In full bloom now.

- Walking to the center of Canary Wharf (boisterously loud in the evenings with bankers suddenly let loose), Wagamamaing, grocery shopping, watching Piki concoct something new (When did she get so good at cooking!!) and happily feasting later.

- Scrounging up all my rusty football knowledge from the olden days when Bhaiya, fanatically enough devoted to Barca to wake up to watch their matches at 2 or 3 and still go to office the next day - had taught me a thing or two. This, in order to join Piki and Vidur in their Premier League madness. Fun times.

- Revisiting Covent Garden, always amenable to seeing whatever madness the street artists would be getting up to, but ever-ready to inch away in case you are called to attention, lest you be used as a dummy for some of the antics or made a medium for extracting the crowd's laughter in other ways (in my opinion, this can never be pleasant.)

- Meeting Tarang and Chiraag after two years on a beautiful sunny-cloudy day, walking all along the touristy areas near tower bridge and the water front there. Discussing IPL with Chiraag who travels 45 minutes to see it "properly" (yes, his exams are on) - it strikes me then that some things never change.

- Lots of spicy Portuguese food and peri peri everywhere. At dinner at Levantino we are well in time to catch the exotically gorgeous belly dancer who, after wowing us with her moves, went on to urge each one of us to come to the front in turn and try it too. Serious fun. I'm so taking classes the moment I go back there. The best out of all of us, strangely enough, was Vidur, who after a classy little jig, turns to the dancer and graciously tells her "You aren't too bad either". Needless to say, he got the most massive cheer of all.

- A night stay at an old, old friend's place at Oxford. Quaint little town. We kick off things with a visit to the famous Turf Tavern and after rather potent wine, head back to get ready and head out to dinner. We take so long over dinner at Joe's that we miss the wine-and-cheese night at Hertford College so we go directly to Escape. Take aways from that night -

. I'm so over my fascination with English boys.
. Make up is an art, and an interesting one at that. Its so fun playing grown up with it!
. When all else is done and gone (re: wine & cheese night), girlfriends and miniskirts will still be there to make it better.

When we do get back we talk till after dawn breaks (which is actually pretty early in those parts) and just like old times, eventually Namu drops off mid-sentence :) See some more sights the next morning and also window shop before grabbing a quick coffee and heading back in the Oxford Tube.

- Wicked! An awesome musical, taken from great to magnificent by stellar acting by Glinda and superb singing by Elphaba (sorry, forgot names). Till date we are toss-tossing with abandon. I, for one, always will.

My favourite line from the musical-

Glinda (coming down the stairs to convince Elphaba to let go of the girl who took Nessa's shoes) -

"Oh God elphaba, let her go. I never thought I'd say this but... They. Are. Just. Shoes!" (Breathes out slowly after saying that, steadying herself.)

- Meeting Keshav and Neha after years, and years, supposedly at the Tate but thanks to their sneak preview of a foozball table being used to depict change and flux (in other words, rather nasty current attractions) we instead took a lovely long walk along the river and ate ice cream and drank coffee. Later was talked into going to the horror show thing next to the Dali museum by Keshav. I didn't die there or anything, though the six or seven squealing, very large girls in front of us in the group who had made it a habit of falling back on us every time they got scared (very often) almost got me. By the end of it I was more scared of them than the place itself. Brrr.

- Went to watch Pygmalion at the Old Vic. The first three acts were fantabulous but I didn't like the second half as much, for which I have been called a retard no end by my loving sister and brother-in-law. Again, some great acting, although one could always dissociate and realize that the real magic is in Shaw's words.

- A brilliant first visit to Cambridge complete with a guided tour given by none other than that veteran champ of awe-struck visitors to his paradise university - Dopey. Seeing as he always has a serious position to maintain (yes, he is topping his ass off there as well, after the country in his boards and ol' DU) one thinks twice before seeing him during his exams but then he says things like, "I don't plan to study today" and knowing Dopey, and recalling how he would clock in twelve hours of sleep before the exam which had us all pulling a night out, one realizes he knows what he is saying and one visits anyway. Went punting - but having little faith in my newly reborn back and Dopey's sleepy frame, we went for the chauffered punt and took in all the sights during the leisurely row up and down the Cam.
Such a beautiful place, I rued not having gone there most dreadfully. But then you look at it on the balance and think of everything from the first week to the final days and then you're like, hmm, these two years weren't too bad for me either. :)

- Hmm, also watched three movies so far - Iron Man, What Happens in Vegas and Sex and the City. Loved Iron Man, and even liked What Happens. I just attribute this new perpetual liking of all movies to softening in my old age.

- Went for a Boyzone concert and had a shockingly fabulous time. It appears that the band are getting back together and Piki, lured by the lure of Ronan Keating, I, lured by the experience of a concert at O2 in great seats, and Vidur, to humour us and play the lovely brother-in-law, all went along. Wriggling in my seat and hugging myself and generally feeling good, my entertained state was intensified by the fellow concert goers in our box, consisting mainly of middle aged-to-old women, all drunk on the fine wine being served and who jumped up at the first word, sang along and danced madly the whole time. As did 'most everyone else actually, just that they were the closest and well, the loudest. London really loves Boyzone! (A.N. - Vidur perked up considerably at the bit where they did a few songs of Michael Jackson's, and could plainly be seen singing along in that part.)

- Meeting Yas after her hectic design school type work finally got over for good and being treated by her at Ping Pong, she sweet talking the waiters to change around their set menu to our liking and happily flashing her South Bank card at them later. What a part time job she has, working at the Royal Festival Hall (she gave me a tour and even a sneak peak at the concert hall), she gets to attend almost all the performances that happen there! Lovely lovely friends, giving us mere mortals yummy free tickets and taking us for lovely shows :) (Soon I hope :))

Such fun! Such fun, fun! :) Almost makes the pain and boredom of the weeks preceding all right.

Until the next instalment of my adventures, adieu!

Ache

2008-05-19T04:36:00.003+05:30

There are some scenes you can never watch too many times. Like this one.

Exten...so?

2008-05-13T10:43:00.005+05:30

The top 5 reasons you should never ever get your hair straightened with an extenso:

(For the uninitiated - extenso is a chemical treatment that makes ANY kid of hair absolutely poker-straight and shiny as if of Chinese or Korean ethnicity.)

5. The minute you get it done you will get to know about at least 7 other girls who got it done practically the same day as you so that you become One-of-those-girls-who-got-their-hair-extenso'ed-that-time (yecchh).

4. The first three days you are not allowed to wash your hair, its flatter than ever from all the gunk in it and looks like a slim fitting helmet made out of nylon or sable or suchlike, and you just go what have I done what have I done what have I done?

3. After the initial thrill of realizing you don't ever have to brush your hair (not that you used to earlier, but that's another story), you start to see that it doesn't exactly suit you or even look natural, try as you might to look a bit more Chinese. People who absolutely thought your hair was a fright to start with or simply hadn't even cared, show up just to say things like, "Oh what have you done? I used to love your wavy hair!" and so on.

2. It's addictive, however, the smoothness, so that you grow used to using lots of products none of which individually cost less than a small fortune and which will, within a year, make various patches of your hair white, frizzy, absent etc.

And the number 1 reason you should never get your hair extenso'd is:

1. You can't un-extenso it even if you are willing to die for it, and it will sit there like a sheeny curtain on your head for AN INDEFINITE PERIOD (not suiting you the whole time and still making you One-of-those-girls-who-went-for-it-that-time) because the honest truth is it never goes away on the hair you get it done on. You simply have to grow new hair so that it takes like 6-8 months for its effects to start ebbing, and another 6-8 months until the very last two unnaturally straight inches at the end of your otherwise wavy-as-hell hair are all that's left of it...

... and then you go and get those two hateful inches chopped off and think Good Bloody Riddance Never Ever Again! ...

...Shortly before you bump into someone who takes one look at you and goes, "What the hell happened to your hair? It was so shiny and straight when I met you last?!!"

Sigh.

Forever Menace!

2008-05-11T22:53:00.006+05:30

I love how we all still look like kids. We must because why else was that Aunty next to our table in Big Chill so hellishly scandalized by all we said that day? And yet she kept listening intently, huh? I love how we are all back to school when we are together. You are probably the funniest people I will ever know, I love the whole Beavis and Butthead act, I love how I don't have to ever think in your company. I love how being with you both always makes me feel (even :)) better about who I am. I know I don't call for months on end and always forget your birthdays. It's the missing nut in my machinery, the coffee stain on my blue print - that I who will always cling to what was, forget all the important things when I am wealthy with the happinesses du jour. But you always forgive, always forget, always come around wearing your silly grins. I never get how you both so get me and accept me, and how around you guys I am the nicest I know how to be. Childhood sweethearts turned prepubescent enemies turned confidantes and secret-keepers. When I'm gone I know I am going to look back at all the calls I didn't return and hate myself. But I also know that when we are seventy and one of you is still confused in life and the other still makes dark dedications to his colour scheme, we will still be guffawing about nothing at all.