Joining the bandwagon

Something about a new year

2012-01-04T21:52:00.001-08:00

There is something so magical about the new year... as if you've been given a fresh new page to write your history. And everything you do during the year will be about the choices that you made, both conscious and otherwise. It literally feels like turning over a new leaf!

This year, for once I have made a couple of resolutions. For starters, I have decided to take time out for myself for things that I like to do and ought to do! Also, I have resolved to work harder ( the most difficult one to keep, I'm a lazy ass). And surprisingly, now that I've joined the gym and have started going for music classes, even though 24 hours is still 24 hours, it seems like I'm packing a lot in one punch. I'm liking the fact that parts of my brain (and body) that I haven't used in years are now creaking to life! And even though it's only been a week, I feel a renewed sense of energy, maybe because I'm doing what I love. If only I found time to write as well...

As I settle in for an hour's music class everyday, I'm starting with the very basics, the ABCs of Carnatic music, which I'd learnt 15 years ago. And its so thrilling to exercise those vocal chords and hear yourself sounding a bit rusted and in need of tuning, but good nonetheless. What was once the bane of my existence back in school I'm willing to redo all over again as a woman... ironical, isn't it?

I see that I'm growing up one step at a time, and funnily it doesn't freak me out as much as it used to before. And at some level, New Years help you keep track of where you are and where you'd like to be. Especially this one.. 2012. In the sense, what if this were the last year for humanity? Then wouldn't you like to live this year like a rockstar? Doing things you've never done before... exploring places unseen... exotic tastes on the palette... and lots and lots of shopping! :)

Bangalored!

2011-08-02T05:43:00.001-07:00

There is something about Bangalore that hits you as soon as you walk out of the airport. As you walk out and the sun envelopes you, while the wind plays with your hair and the Bangalore atmosphere engulfs you, you suddenly feel as if you have been away too long. There are so many things about the city that makes my heart grow fonder. Bangalore seems to take all that is nice in the other metros and put it all in its midst; live-and-let-live-ness of Bombay, the urban-ness of Delhi, the warmth-of-people of Chennai, without the hang-ups associated with all these cities.

As I cabbed it down from the airport, I couldn’t help sticking my head out of the window, the weather was glorious and I hadn’t hit the traffic jams yet. It was good to see so much green in the city, and every time I passed some personal landmark, I’d get excited, much to the cabbie’s amusement. As I passed through M.G Road, it was reassuring to see smartly dressed ‘Chinkies’ for the lack of a better word (they ‘layer’ like they were born with it). When I was going through 100 feet road in an auto (which went by the meter!!), I thankfully managed to squeeze in a massage which was just divine. Passing by J P Nagar brought back memories of college and the care-free days when we would have no money but all the time to do everything. As I hung out in the CCD which we favored back then, I called my college friends and reminisced about the good times spent there. And then, at night, met a bunch of best friends, totally dressed up and partied like there was no tomorrow. Bangalore does that to you. Despite the fact that the bureaucracy deems that you party only till 12 PM, there is something about the ambience of the place… the freedom in the people that makes you want to make an ass of yourself, simply because no one really cares! It is liberating to dress up in clothes that make you look chic, without having 100 eyes mentally undressing you. Men do give you a look-over in Bangalore, but it isn’t in a way to make you uncomfortable. The lifestyle may be expensive, but the night’s priceless.

Even though I had a pitiable 2 days to experience all of Bangalore, I missed a lot of things on my agenda; living it up in HRC, working the hangover at Koshy’s, enjoying jazz at Take 5, pigging my heart out at Nandini’s, the list is endless…

But Bangalore isn’t just about the big things; it’s as much about the small things. It’s about the fact that you can get an auto at most times of the night, and quite safely at that. It’s about enjoying a hot cup of tea at Chai Patti, sitting cozily under their awning, watching the rain and thinking about how you miss the city. It is about the perfect Maggi that you get, topped with Bhajis and momos and curbing the urge to go across to the UCB store. It is about seeing so much good fashion on the streets, from tubes to jumpsuits to shrugs to accessories. It’s about getting up in the morning and convincing yourself that you need another 5 minutes of sleep, simply because the weather outside is so amazing.

Bangalore may be given grief about being such a confusion of cultures, but I think that’s exactly what it is about the city that makes it work. Because, it takes all the good things of these cultures and makes it a wholly new one, making the city a pleasure to live in. As I chug out of Majestic, I vow to be back, hopefully sooner than later…

I’m afraid, it’s the spleen!!!!!

2011-04-08T03:45:00.000-07:00

From a non- doctor’s perspective, what doctors do awe most of us. In one sense, doctors do have that aura of superheroes, minus the underwear! Well, as a matter of fact, if you do start wearing your underwear outside your scrubs, maybe you wouldn’t look so intimidating to the rest of us. That and possibly the handwriting.

What is it with the handwriting? Is it part of the induction process? I can well imagine seniors in rounds telling the hapless junior “This is way too legible, this way, your patient will know whats wrong with him and will never come to you again. Here, this is how it’s done.” and scrawling away with a flourish! There isn’t a single doctor who I have gone to who has a readable font! Thankfully, chemists are so used to it, they have no issues in giving us the right medication (or so I’d like to believe)!

Coming back to the super-hero angle, if I were a doctor, I would definitely let it get to my head. I’m sure most doctors say that it is terrifying to have someone’s lives in your hands, but on the flip-side, doesn’t it give you a terrific high to play god?! Go on, admit it! Hell, when I fix the errant pipe in the wash area, I have a Moses-like moment and I’m eager for the trumpets to start. I can well imagine when you fix a person! Such a TADAAA moment! So if I were ever to wake up one day to find that I’ve suddenly transformed into a doctor (lets hope a good one at that.. gulp), I would first examine my hands. They will definitely look a lot more intellectual than they do now. And my face will have lines of maturity, of seeing days that could’ve been better. But me being me, would be more pompous than ever before, entering the big hospital where everyone is saluting me, having my own cabin where I hardly sit, giving a cursory glance to a chart and terming it as hypo-gleucemic-whatnotthatis! While the little nothings around me look up at me with an expression akin to discovering the disease! I have glasses perched on my head which I use to think more than to just see! And during rounds, throwing around instructions like arrows which hit the minions as they scurry to impart my words of wisdom! Aaaahhhh! What a life! I could get used to this!

My favourite doctor was one who treated me as a kid, who literally saw me grow from a fat little kid to a pudgy young woman! And every time, he would urge me to lose weight, all the while asking me what my favourite food item was! But that was what was amazing about him, he could relate to everyone. At rounds, he would talk just as easily to the mother of an auto-wallah as he would discuss cricket to a man suffering from piles. But that wasn’t the most amazing thing about him. He would talk you through the process of medication; he was one of the last standing ‘patient’ doctors we had.

One of the things which doctors must get from a patient perspective is to be patient (forgiving the pun). It makes a huge difference when we know what exactly is happening to us and how much it’s going to hurt. When I know it’s going to hurt a lot, I’d like to be prepared for it, like clutching a hand or even a chair handle if required! So even though, this is the 5700th appendectomy you have been performing, it is most definitely, our FIRST! With all due respect to how you save our lives every day, all of us have a hypochondriac streak in us that makes us believe that things are a lot more serious than they seem! So forgive us our little I’m-going-to-die-a-heroic-death act and be a little more patient with your patients.

A bit of the Sun

2011-04-06T06:50:00.000-07:00

Irony is god’s way of laughing at us. How else do you explain the things that we take most for granted, which when it’s over, is the time when you want it the most? Case in point, childhood! All I wanted to do as a child was to grow up and dress up and be all important. And all I want to do now is to crawl back into mama’s lap, or better still, get back in her stomach! Childhood… the time when everything is right… when we have a head full of worries that amount to nothing really… the time when decisions revolved around whether to have one or two mangoes a day… on which excuses to give for getting up late and how to drive people in the house nuts!
Much ado was made about how I was so poor in math, but not even the best of tuitions and summer camps and witchcraft could make me better at it. I still add the change given by the shopkeeper to the amount I’m supposed to give him instead of the usual subtraction!
A major chunk of my summer holidays were spent in Bombay. Yes, I am one of those who can only think of it as Bombay and not its corporate- sounding evil counterpart, Mumbai! And for this reason, Bombay for me was and still is a place to go to have fun! I had a whole extended family there, and going there for my summer hols was part of growing up. I used to look forward eagerly to the time when we would pack up for the trip, paying special emphasis on all my fashionable clothing, just so I could elicit oohs and aahs from my cousins in fashionable Bombay! And how we would share our clothes. Just as I would reach out to the then-fashionable yellow tights (gulp), my cuzz would want to wear the exact same thing! And then the screaming fit would start! And end only with all 3 cousins bawling our eyes out, the yellow tights forgotten in the melee!
As luck would have it, all 3 of us were of the short and plump variety (it’s a different thing, I’m the only one who’s still the same) and one of the summer endeavors were to have us learn to ride the cycle! And as convenience would have it, none of the parents in the house wanted to take up the arduous task and decided to leave it to the watchman’s son, who was a puny thing who was hardly 2 years older than us and probably a third of our individual weight! Every morning, as we were forced out of our bed, we would groggily go up to the Malayali cycle- borrowing shop and sheepishly ask for the cycles with the side stands. We would carefully wheel it back to our compound only to fall repeatedly again and yet again as we learnt the tricky art of cycling! And every morning, the poor chap teaching us would come to the door appealing to my grandmother that he can’t take it up anymore and that if either of us would fall on him, he would surely die of asphyxiation! My grandmother would chide him for overreacting only to shut the door and laugh till her false teeth clicked together!!!!
Those summer days were spent with gay abandon without a care for the morrow. Unless the morrow promised a trip to Juhu Beach or Fantasy Land, in which case we wouldn’t sleep for the sheer excitement of what was to come. Juhu Beach held its own charm, it was possibly the only time when we saw our parents having as much fun as we did jumping and sqealing as much as us, if not more theatrically!! There was something about the gentle lapping of waves, which seem to peel away their inhibitions, layer by layer. But we didn’t know that back then! Back then, it was just amusing to see our strict mothers holstering up their salwars and having the time of their lives! And having frolicked in the water for a couple of hours, our stomachs would be growling, waiting to be ravished by the riot of street food that was available on Juhu Beach! With the sun setting in the background, we would pop in Pani Pooris and Dabelis, mopping it up with the famous Pav Bhaji. The final item on the menu would be the mouth watering Malai Kulfis, eaten painstakingly slowly to ensure that they were not the first to finish! That night, as we hit the bed, we would incessantly talk about the height of the waves and the adventures that we had, until we dropped off to sleep out of sheer exhaustion.
The best part about summer holidays was that you got to sleep late and get up even later. Or so we thought until yet another endeavor cropped up… Art Class. So we would find ourselves at 7:30 AM in a small shed, with a bunch of equally dreary, droopy eyed kids who would be listlessly coloring the fruit/vegetable of the day! There were a couple of shining stars in the class; my youngest cuzz included, much to our irritation! She would proudly come back and show everyone her masterpiece when the middle one and me would desperately try to shut ourselves in the restroom at the exact same moment! When our art books were finally found and examined, oh the shame, the shame! Well it wasn’t really my fault if my hand refused to do what my brain instructed! I would start every page, thinking “This is it! This is going to be my masterpiece. ” But one mis-stroke would render it pointless, and frankly I was prone to getting bored very quickly. Soon, the middle one and I would have a competition about who could make the worst of it and once we tired of that, we would turn to the little one to see how we could spoil hers in turn! Sure we would go to hell for that, but it was well worth the effort!
Mangoes! To be more specific, Alphonsoes! The emperor of the king of fruits! And if anyone dare challenge that, I pity your childhood! What you do have a choice in, is the way you eat your alphonsoes. Whichever way you eat it, the rush that goes straight to the head as you take that first bite of the golden orb is beyond poetic verse. But that in itself was a process, first we had to make sure that we weren’t wearing anything that was too grand for fear of spilling. If we were, a large towel would be wrapped round us. We would then be given the chance of choosing our piece which would be heavily debated, scuffles sorted and mangoes distributed. We would then be given strict instructions that we were to sit tight on the ground and not move around while eating. That last instruction was uncalled for; even as children we knew the respect that the ‘emperor’ commanded while eating! I think it was possibly the only time when the house was silent for the most part as we savored every last bite.
3 girls in a community full of cricket crazy boys was no joke. Evenings would be spent in making teams of 2 to either play cricket or lagori (7 stones) with us girls being chosen as the last in the teams, Kacha-Pakka to put it mildly. Even then, I remember boasting to the other 2 saying that I’m the first to be chosen among the KPs!! Small mercy, that! I had exactly 1 moment of shining glory in cricket when I took one of the leading batsman’s wicket. Even that became a standing joke as one of the boys said I was yawning and stretching and the ball got caught in my hand! Still, I was Queen for a day!
Summertime was a time to do everything possible under the sun (pun intended). I don’t think we are yet to work the tan off! But then again, a totally wasted day was, in our opinion, a great day!

What I want!

2011-03-14T02:55:00.001-07:00

If childhood is anything to go by, I came across one of those books which we used to call slam books ( which were such a rage back then) where I've written in clear, mostly legible prose under the question- "10 years from now, I would be- A writer". And thats that. The finality of childhood. A full stop. And then, I'd like to believe, life happened While in actuality, nothing really happened in a drastic way to really change the course of action. I just went with the flow of things. But somewhere along the line, it isn't like I forgot what i eventually wanted to do. Because i know this is what I want to do. In Life! I want to write. Whether it pays for my far-from-frugal lifestyle or otherwise. Which is what I'm thinking right now. What stops me from doing that? Is it because I'm too too terrified to take that leap of faith to do what I want? Is it that sense of complacency (read laziness) that comes out of having it good? Is it the money? It's all of the above. Eventually, there will come a day when I will find it in myself to trust in me! And on that day, I will not be able to stop writing. Until then.. it's the life of page positions, rates per cc and running around like a headless chicken! To heads, then!

The Final Countdown!!

2010-12-23T01:45:00.000-08:00

It is that time of the year again, where the whole world is eating, DRINKING and merrily celebrating the end of yet another year! And I mean, the whole world is doing it... it’s just one of those celebrations which no one can ignore, can they? I obviously choose to overlook all those party poopers who refuse to get out of their homes, but Ahaa… if they switch on their TV sets, new years’ smacks them right IN YOUR FACE!!! The New Years’ frenzy doesn’t leave anyone.

Just imagine... People all over the world trying to figure out what they will do when it tolls 12, albeit at different times. Visualize the Queen pondering over her palatial wardrobe thinking ‘Oh, sod it!!! I’ve nothing to wear!’. And women all over trying search for the PERFECT DRESS (cleavage being directly proportionate to their current relationship status) thinking. “Why can’t I find that one dress that hides all my flaws and highlights all my beauts??”!! Even the unmentionables are at their unmentionable places poring over plans of destroying the world, saying “Happy 2011, may it be the last year of humanity”!! Not to forget all the people who fancy themselves too old to ‘shake it’ tut-tutting to each other “What has this world come to? What is the big deal about the New Year? It isn’t like they’ve found a cure to cancer. Back in ‘78…..”

All the same, it isn’t something most of us can get enough of. Right from trying to figure out the perfect party to go to, to the people to go with, down to the perfect shoes (sexy, but danceable) are all debates that start at least 3 weeks in advance. Ironically, most people don’t quite remember much after that first tequila-shot taken at 12 to commemorate the event!!

Every party has a set of those people who are hammered out of their wits, who are funny to everyone except those who are in charge of taking them home! From the girl who wants PDA from everyone to the creep who keeps staring at people to the first time drinker who pukes behind the couch and promptly passes out to group of people who are gamely trying to finish the last round of drinks that someone over-enthusiastically ordered!!

The morning after, is spent in happy reminiscence or trying to kill oneself depending on the hangover levels. Best friends call each other to figure out who they finally ended up with and what exactly they did because they don’t remember much of it!!! Top that hangover with cringe-worthy behavior (singing “The Final Countdown” in a high soprano voice!!) and it is something that may want you to bury yourself under 6 feet of non-judgeable mud!!

All’s well in the end as we ring in another year with pomp and fanfare and exceptionally loud music!!!

Murky Waters

2010-02-23T23:23:00.000-08:00

It’s just that period when all roads lead to none

Each decision so interwoven with people and places.

One of those times when nothing can be done,

Except pass it off as one of those phases.

What, when, where, why, how

My sentences seem to start with these

Answers which I seek from within now,

Much like the ever elusive inner peace

Sometimes I’m just tired of thinking,

Hardly an adult, yet bored already

I wish to escape into a world of nothing

With a hand to hold me, strong and steady

Life was so easy back then

Without a dent in my soul

As a child, my parents would hold me when

They’d protect me from the whole world.

Each question I pose laughs back at me

Settling down to a giggle, but stays nonetheless

Joined by its peers, for me to see

Through murky waters, I guess.

Time for me...

2009-12-23T01:35:00.000-08:00

The last 6 months has been a whirlwind of activity. Endless travel... meeting new people... fostering new relationships... and the way I see it, the next 6 months is going to be even more chaotic.

In the midst of this, I got one weekend where I had the house all to myself. God bless my roommate who had left town, my fiance was working and I was definetly in no mood to live it up with friends.

I did everything which I wanted to do. Sat in front of the TV watching back-to-back episodes of Friends, ate appetizing food, read all the girl-mags I could lay my hands on and also finished the novel I was reading. I couldn't have had a more perfect weekend.

There is something about curling up with a hot cuppa under a thick blanket with a gripping book. Something so complete about it. Arguably people say the same thing about movies, but one thing that movies don't do for me... they don't exercise my imagination.. things are given to me in a platter. They are someone else's imagination which I am consuming. But when I read a book, its almost my own, the images are mine, the location, the setting, the way the emotions pan out are all things which I conjure up. Maybe thats the reason why most movies that are made out of books fail to bring back the magic.

Knowing that I can think back to one such weekend when in the midst of frenzied activity slightly makes up for the lack of it at that point. We tend to dip into our experiences when we need them the most. Yet another wonder of the human mind.

Just like that....

2009-11-09T21:38:00.001-08:00

Just when you think it's a normal run-of-the-mill days... ssdd... life has a way of creeping up from behind you and scaring the living hell out of you. Death on the other hand simply kills.

Someone very close to my family passed away today. Just like that.... and thats the end of it. And we are left trying to cope. I have never really had to deal with death in its true sense ever. And I'm left grappling with the vacuum. How do you go on living with a piece missing?

He was there yesterday... today no more. Massive cardiac arrest. What scared me most is how there was no prelude.. no intermission.. just the end.

Would it be easier if we knew that someone was nearing his end? Would it make it easier to deal with? Or is it best if people just cease to be? In the latter, you end up feeling cheated.. as if you were dealt a very bad hand.

It's in times like these when I'm grateful for my belief in a power above. It is reassuring thought that the person we have lost has moved on to a happier place and will be well taken care of.

I think the reason why death affects us so much is because that is the only time you take down your facade of invincibility. I can't quite imagine life without my family and loved ones surrounding me. But when something like this happens, I realise there is NOTHING, absolutely NOTHING I can do other than to pray for their longevity. And pray I will...

The moment of truth

2009-11-02T00:51:00.000-08:00

We women, ever since we were 10 (give or take a couple of years) have dreamt about our wedding. It isn't necessarily about marriage, more about THE WEDDING. With the years, the tastes change along with the trend, but something the stays consistently the same is our yearning to have the perfect wedding.

The most important reason for this, I believe, is the opportunity that we get once in our lives to play princess! I am the most important person in the world on that day. I rule! :) My word is dictum. Or so I believed... What I didn't account for was how all the people in my life who loved me and brought me up and cared for me were all waiting for my wedding to relive their own. In their terms! I have heard the words 'I want your wedding to be whatever mine wasn't' too many times to ignore now. As a result, you are surrounded by a hundred well wishers, a thousand opinions and a million arguments... all for your happiness! :-)

I wonder of this happens anywhere else in the world, or is it another Indian eccentricity? On the other hand, if people didn't tell you exactly what they thought, they wouldn't be Indian would they? ;-) No two ways about it for us, no thank you. It's my way, or a million other highways. You choose!

But isn't that what makes that moment all the more special, when you look down demurely as the moment finally dawns on you that you are now married, and your husband looking at you with all the love in the world, you look around and see everyone that you love, who you have grown up with, who you have had every argument, squirmish, maddening atrocities with all in this same place, waiting to wish you a happy future with the man you love.

I wouldn't have it any other way...

Home...

2009-09-22T04:17:00.001-07:00

Recently I'd gone home over the extended weekend that I'd got. It was heavenly. I was dying to go home.. I'd got the flu and was cranky and sick and desperately needed a dose of mum-love. And it was every bit as relaxing and rejuvenating as I'd expected it.

I got home by around 12 in the night, having caught the last flight in from Bangalore. Since I was sick, Ma was waiting up to recieve me as I got home. And I got what I'd been waiting for all that week.. her rasam mammu!! There is something majical about that hot, steaming bowl of rice which has hardly any nutrients come to think of it. Strangely enough, it filled me with all the strength required to fight the whole world. The best part is, I don't NEED to fight the world when I'm at home.

Its only people who live by themselves who truely understand the bliss when you come back home to your own bed. It feels like a huge burden has been lifted off your shoulders and all you can do is curl up and sleep. And sleep I did!!

I was discussing this feeling with a very good friend... who also lived by herself.. and we came to the common conclusion that its a heady combination of NOT-WANTING-TO-BE-A-SUPERWOMAN-ANYMORE and a WANT-TO-BE-PAMPERED-TO-DEATH!

I mean, I'm all out for living by myself and truely love and cherish the freedom that comes along with it. But somewhere along the line, I also have my days when I don't want to be strong, when I want to whine about how my life sucks, and I don't feel like the ultimate cosmo-woman!

More than anything, I think the reason we feel so comfortable at home is because for one time in your life, you DO NOT have to take any decisions. I do not want to fill petrol, I do not want to buy vegetables, I do not want to decide what to have for dinner, I do not want to groan at going to gym.

My mum was actually taking my trip on how I'd could lose my umbrella in an auto and exactly why I hadn't called to keep her updated on the same!!! All I could tell her was" Im all of 24 Ma!! I'm a grown woman now.' You know what she retorted to that? 'A grown woman like you should know how to take care of her umbrella!' I couldn't help but agree.

My point about this is, sometimes its the most exhilarating feeling in the world that someone cares enough about your lost umbrella to take your trip for it!! :)

Friends

2009-09-08T04:29:00.000-07:00

A while back I had to organise a party for someone really special. This was to be held in Chennai, but I was going to be stuck in Bangalore until the morning of the party. There were a lot of things to be done and most of them could not be done here in Bangalore.

I called two of my best friends who were in Chennai. Told them what they had to do. And that was it. It was taken care of.

And thats what this post is about. There are some people, very few people in your life that you can actually afford to take for granted. I do not mean this in the true sense of the phrase ' taking for granted'. I mean, you tell them what you want and they will take care of it. OK they do butt in and whine about how there is no beer in the party and how they can't come at the assigned time and how it take 2 hours to set their hairstyle right, but atleast they are wholly and completely dependable.

At the party, We had a motley of people.. those I knew really well, those I had bumped into a bunch of times and also people who I met for the first time. It gave me a feeling of security that the friends that I've known the longest time ever were there and in case anything would happen, they'd be around to help clean up!!

I love that feeling... when you're sick and can turn to that one person who will take you to the hospital no matter what time of day.. when you have a flat tire and can act like one of those pissed zoozoos over the phone to your friends.. when you realise that its been ages since you spent some time over at the amazing burger place and your friend still gets you the number of the restaurant!

There is no need to do a diligent planning about when and where you meet. When I'm in town, all we need to do is to call each other up and then just turn up. Plans involve a dvd (of something either funny or scary), a bottle of Coke, lotsa chips and a basement room of a friend's place. Thats the feeling of 'taking for granted'. And its one of the most exhilarating feelings in the world...

Traffic!!!

2009-09-02T01:44:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of vehicles on a typical bangalore road, each of which have a typical characteristic according to people who drive:

Autos: Who do they think, they're bleddy shoomaakars or what?

Bikers: These youth of today no... can never trust them and their bikes

Cars: Just because they have car and AC, they think they rule the road! hmpf!

Cycles: They throw themsleves in front of you and then blame you for hitting them.

Pedestrians: Why have you chosen my vehicle to suicide in front of??!!

Fish Carts: Hoooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnn... horn horn....... WTF!!! HOOOOORRN!

Trucks: Definitely Yama's modern mode of transport!!

And most importantly:

Women: I can bet my lifetime's savings that THAT car is been driven by a woman!

I'm sorry but I say it too. Women have this typical way of driving.. as if there is this parellel universe where EVERYONE has ALL the time in the world. Now don't get me wrong here, I'm as much a feminist as your average modern woman. Equality is the way to go. But seriously, I drive... and I know how it feels when you're in one of those frustrating one lanes... you see the green signal on for the next 12 seconds.. 11..10 and you're stuck behind the car thats going at 13 when the road's emmmmmpty. You finally overtake the car and glare into the driver's seat... And there she is, animatedly talking over the phone and throwing her hands up in the air.. doing anything but putting the car into 3rd gear!!! On and by the way.... I missed the bloody signal!!

My driving has been largely influenced by seeing people around me... and all of them unanimously agree on the women aspect that they drive too slow. That must've had some imapct on me, coz I drive exactly otherwise. Actually a lot like my best friend.. who's a female version of Schoomie!! I drive fast... I do. I would like to think I'm confident, my friends would say its rash! Especially my roommate.. she thinks she's definitely gonna get hurt when she steps into my car. She diligently wears her seatbelt and still manages to sit on the edge of her seat!! I mean, really... just because we once came within an inch of a biiig bus doesn't mean you can't trust me anymore! Pah! People I tell you!

But one thing I'm thankful about being a girl is the way people help out when you're in a crisis. I had a puncture in the midst of the road and within minutes, there were atleast 5 people, ok guys who helped push the car to the side of the road. One of them even offered to change the tyre, for a price ofcourse. It isn't that I don't know to change my own, but seriously you guys, it actually involves a lot of muscle behind the jack. Trust me, I am not the ooohhh-my perfectly-manicured-nail-will-break kind of a person. I love pottering around and though I have never been into mechanics, can do a lot of carpentry related stuff around the house. But that stupid lever that turns the jack is bloody tough.

I'm sure those car manufacturing guys who approve the mechanism have some stud-boy with muscles bulging who does it with his twinky-finger and passes the test! Try a woman! Go get the most frail and small looking thing and see if she can do it. And if she can, I most definitely would also be able to. I'm not exactly the kind that can be discribed as small and frail, you see!! :)

I got caught for speeding this one time. So, this cop flags me down and asks for my papers, of which there are atleast a trillion. I don't know which ones are of use and which ones aren't so I simply carry them all like a 5 year old's scrap-book! He asks me to come out of the car, takes me to a police jeep standing by, which has this telescopeish thing looking out of it. He then points to a laptop which has a recording of my car whizzing by (god, was I proud!). He said that the fine for it would be 300, by which time he whips out a sexy blackberry, types out my car number, punches some random buttons and the attached palmtop sized printer whirred into life and spouted a nice, little reciept for my payment. I was so enamoured by the whole process, I didn't even feel bad parting with the money! I came away enriched by the experience! Hopeless, I know! :)

SHOE SALE!!

2009-08-31T03:10:00.000-07:00

Finally managed to catch atleast one of the many many sales in town. I made the right decison of going alone. The best part of going alone is that the time you have is all yours. No friends, no loved ones, no one but the thousand other women there!! :) The thing men don't understand about a sale is that yes it is competitive, but its a lot friendlier than what meets the eye. We push, we jostle, but have you seen anybody complaining about all that push-n-shove? Its all part of the experience. The teeny problem comes only when one woman finds one of the pair and another find's the second to it! Thats the only time it can get a teeny bit heated up.

The feeling that you get when you've pined for that real pretty looking shoe for the last 2 months which you happen to see under the 50% off bracket is priceless. But my luck being MY LUCK, it was supposedly not on sale, someone had just thrown it in the wrong pile. Worse still, there was STILL no discount on it. But your mind is made up the moment you eyed it in the 50% bracket and so there it stands guiltily staring back at you from beneath the purchases bag. I hated it, but I also loved it so...

I did manage to get 2 pairs which fell under the 50% bracket, but only because thats exactly what I wanted to buy and thats what all the mags say about focusing on what you came in to buy! But all my self restraint came into the foray when I saw the cutest little pair of shorts, which wonder of wonders.. fit me! I walked away.. coaxing myself into believing that a) it was sooo the wrong season to buy shorts b) it will still be there the next time I come and c) dammit i ran out of excuses n i wanted it so badly. But the important thing is that i didn't buy it.

Atleast i got to spend double of that on a perfume for someone else. The way I saw it, it didn't count as my expenses coz it was for someone else! A worthy, noble cause! I came away mighty pleased with myself. That feeling lasted all through the day until this morning, when I got my bank balance update on the phone! GULP! :/

In a new light!!

2009-08-27T02:39:00.000-07:00

The other day, as I was waiting in the signal amidst traffic, I saw this guy who came up next to me on a bike. The only thing noteworthy about him was in the way he was wearing his clothes. He was wearing a simple blue shirt and black pants. But he was wearing it impeccably. I wanted to lean over and simply tell him that he was looking smart. But i didn't. Something held me back. What something! It was the thought that he would either think I was hitting on him or that I was some psycho weirdo or both! But what if we did? What if when you are going on the road or sitting in a restaurant, you think that girl's top is to die for and you tell her that. She may still think you're some crazy stalker, but hell atleast you made her day!

Why do I care what some random stranger thinks of me, that too when I'm just meaning to compliment him/ her!! But i do... pretty sure its the leo in me wanting to be loved by all!!

Imagine for a second if we chose to do that. To say the least there would be a lot many more happy people in this world.And eventually complimenting people would become more habitual for men than the few and far state it is in now. And that, in turn would make us women happier. Another reason... I wouldn't just dress UP for myself, it'd be for the world!! :)

Amchi Mumbai

2009-08-24T23:01:00.001-07:00

I finally went to Mumbai.. for more than my perfunctory half a day. Got to stay there over the weekend. And like so many others, I fell all over again for the city. There is something about Mumbai that makes you feel as if you're in the centre of the universe... the world revolves around you. The sights, sounds and the vibration is something that is so typically Mumbai!! Maybe its because I was born there.. maybe its because I spent all my summers there.. or maybe its just the speed of the city that attracts me.

I love travelling in the taxis there, even though the people living there say its the slowest way to travel!! There's something very royal about it... that makes you feel as if you're on a chariot traveling through the masses. That and the Taxidrivers. We were on our way to Taj Land's End for an Awards Ceremony and we stopped by to grab some chat. Needless to say we hogged, but the Taxidriver stood waiting patiently and even took pride in us eating well. I think it is to do with how Mumbaikars take pride in their city, they want their visitors to have a good time. Like other cities, they may also outsmart us, but hell I'm willing to get outsmarted here!!

When i die, my idea of heaven would be Khao Gully!! No whites.. no fluffy clouds.. no wings.. just lots of smoke.. sizzling sounds and delectable chat! Pani Puris that melt in the mouth (not to mention that FIT in the mouth), American Chopsuey Dosa, Frankies and top it all off with Kulfi!! A friend's brilliant observation.. Wada-pav is cold outside and hot inside while Dabeli is hot ouside and cold inside!!! Nonetheless, I love both! :) To top it all, having eaten so much junk, people don't fall sick. Funnier yet, irrespective of all the swine flu scare going on, there was even more of a crowd than normal in the street!! Goes to show how much people believe in their city.

This time around, it was Ganesh Chaturthi when I went to Mumbai. To say the least, the city becomes crazy! There are pandals every 100 feet, with Ganeshas peeping out from behind them. And the workmanship involved in each pandal is astounding. It isn't just enough that there is an idol in each pandal, each society has to come up with a theme each year. And after so many years, I danced at Ganpati. The local bands that play the dhol are just brilliant. I challenge anybody to listen to them play and not feel like dancing. It's a different feeling all together, like the music is making you shake off all your inhibitions, layer by layer, leaving you surprisingly light and more than willing to let the music take control. That moment, when i danced with friends i hadn't seen in years, I was experiencing a child-like abandon which i had lost a long time ago. That, in my opinion is as divine as any temple- visit.

Each time i travel to Bombay, i feel like staying back there. But I don't think I have mustered up enough courage for the city. Hopefully one day...

Trip to the coast

2009-08-18T04:41:00.000-07:00

The waves lash against the rocks,

Coming, back.. and coming again.

The sky opens up, raining soft,

Words willingly spill out from pen.

Myriads of grey, various shades,

With patches of pristine white.

The surf that remains through the day,

Is welcome respite for thirsty eyes.

It is the rocks that stand out tall,

The water that falls like a shroud.

Jagged here, there smooth as silk,

Moods that change as water spills.

Two boats bobbing in the horizon,

Every sinewy muscle straining

To get to the safety of the sands,

Sheets of rain, a sight astounding

Here I am in the safety,

A roof over me, heart in hand.

Waiting for their return hasty,

Praying for the oarman's steady stand...