Watching the season finale of Project Runway last evening, I was struck by how emotional the finalists appeared to be. And even though one has to remember that this is a TV reality show and demands a higher level of drama than banal reality, the individual stories of how these guys faced tough circumstances and choices and still pursued their dream struck a true note. And they were all in the age zone of 29 to 33….the same as mine.
Which really led me to the question of what I have really achieved till date. Surprisingly enough, this question doesn’t really bother me as often as it seems to plague most of my friends and acquaintances. I am not sure why. It can’t be a lack of thinking capacity (though the lack of depth is evident)…as my perusal of this blog showed, there’s plenty and more of thinking going on about several areas and topics, related to myself and the world around me. Maybe it’s my usual denial strategy – I know this is a potentially thorny topic so I have locked it up, along with many others, in that little black trunk at the back of my mind, just not having the energy and inclination to deal with it. Or maybe I am just a little smug, with some bit of tunnel vision – chugging happily (and sometimes not so happily) along in this relatively stable life, achieving less than my potential, earning less than my potential, but disregarding the world roaring past. Or maybe I am just too rooted in my past – there is so much gratitude for what I have today, compared to the nightmare it could have been, that I am superstitious about questioning it at all.
Whatever the reason, the point is I don’t really think much about the question of achievement. Whenever I get asked a question about it, my response is pretty simple, and pretty true at the surface as well – I have my physical and mental faculties, I love what I do, I am able to enjoy more creature comforts than seemed possible 15 years ago, I have a lot of people that I love and who love me. Is there really anything more to life?
So I won’t think about that achievement bit right now either. What I do want to think a little more about is risk, and how much risk I have truly taken to get where I am today. And the answer is – negligible.
For someone who believes that his life takes on the character of a roller coaster ever so often, and who willingly gets on it, it’s a little bit of a surprise to realize that when it came to working, to chasing professional dreams, I didn’t really take that much of a risk.
When I think back to my teenage years, there were some things I was passionate about, especially books, movies, fashion, dance. And I had a reasonable amount of professional understanding about the art behind these fields – writing, critiquing, creating, directing, designing, choreography – to have made a serious try at one of them. Fashion seemed the most accessible and the most likely to yield a living, and I, along with my parents, did give serious consideration to pursuing an education on those lines.
I am not sure when, but somewhere along the line, that desire just seemed to dissolve away. And got replaced by a more fundamental need to secure the future of myself and to an extent my family. The very specific objective of doing an MBA came from there. And so did all the determination of getting there – fighting with well meaning relatives (who wanted me to do the more immediate, safer thing of getting a “computer education”), securing a personal loan and getting the support of Mum and Dolly to spend 2 years doing that. So I guess that was a bit of a risk. Again, when I decided to specialize in HR and chase placement in that field, I was told, by another group of well wishers, that I was taking a large risk. Therefore, within that relatively stable field and option that I chose, I did decide to do exactly what I wanted to do and took some risks to ensure that I could chase my own dreams.
But I wonder how it would have been if I had remained stuck to my original options. I say this to a lot of people now and I do believe in it – everything is possible. It might cause some pain initially and there would be some change management involved, but instead of giving up, it is possible to chase your dreams, personally or professionally. And yet I didn’t. Dulled by grief, fueled by a desire for security, missing any inspirational and knowledgeable figure around, I muddled my way through my thoughts and desires and did what I felt was right. And it was right in a way – like I said; I genuinely love what I do.
But that shouldn’t have stopped me from building a deeper level of knowledge or expertise in these areas over the years. I know so many people around me, wonderful people who truly inspire me, who have now let their “hobbies” take over their lives and found a different level of fulfillment at a stage of life when financial concerns are lesser and the spiritual hunger is more. I observe, accompany, support and encourage these friends to find that higher level of fulfillment and sometimes this change of direction is sustained and sometimes it isn’t. Both ways, a risk is taken and one is more a man for having taken it. So to speak.
And I? Except for the occasional vomit through this blog, there’s been no serious attempt at developing the craft of writing. Except for movie marathons, there’s been no attempt at taking advantage of multiple opportunities to actually visit the insides of the movie business and get inspired there. Have pretty much stopped following fashion, except a monthly GQ read. And never bothered to enroll at the thousands of classes that would have helped my natural talent for dance be built further through some technique.
Basically – no discipline, no depth, no follow through. The last 11 years of work life have been spent working, shopping, eating, drinking, reading, watching movies…and yes, loving and being loved. Not a bad deal. But where’s the risk?
In the middle of this chaotic, muddy world, I create a small space where I hope inspite of everything....basically, i blabber on all and sundry and hope that somewhere i contribute something. To myself, at least.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Transitions
Transitory periods. I hadn’t really thought of it that way till V mentioned it today. What an interesting word – it carries all the passion of a power point but actually stands for what are possibly some of the most alive/ dead/ painful/ enlightening/ energizing/ debilitating and occasionally even transformational moments of our lives.
As I look back, there are so many such moments that occur to me. Unfortunately, most of them are not a pleasant memory; but maybe that’s their nature – to cause the pain that leads to movement or change.
I remember standing on the railway platform in Delhi, waving to Unni as his train pulled out; Unni’s eyes wide and expressionless, Sidharth’s arm around my shoulder, Shekhar standing quietly by. We all knew a time was ending, a time that had been a roller coaster, but a wonderful time as well, bringing us together and forging relationships that would last a lifetime. I went back in Shekhar’s car and for that drive, and many days thereafter, I would keep getting those knots in my stomach as I thought of great moments that wouldn’t come again, of people I wouldn’t see again. And as much as I looked forward to the next phase of my life, the sense of loss was immense.
A couple of months later, I myself was departing on the same train to the same destination. This time it was me forcing myself to be cheerful and Mummy on the platform forcing a smile, and both of us pretending that this was a trip and not a move that would alter the way we lived, and loved. Lesson learnt – never spend a transitory period cooped up in a cabin from which there’s no respite.
I experienced transitions as a catalyst for growth first when I moved to Accenture. The experience was bewildering, irritating, intimidating, exhausting and ultimately – one of learning and growth. At the end of a typical long and frustrating conversation with GV, he looked into my eyes and asked “do you know your people?” Click. I rediscovered myself as an HR professional after that.
Another interesting phase was when I moved to Manila for a few months. The sense of alienation which gripped me (and caused a lot of acidity attacks) in the first couple of days actually turned out to be liberating. I could think afresh, I could craft relationships afresh, I could experiment with my working style, I could draft my own charter. A stream of energy sped through me which lasted for several weeks.
Or the day Arav was born. The apprehensions, the insecurity, the tension of the subsequent weeks was all worth it as it helped us all develop a greater appreciation and sensitivity of the people we are and what we are responsible for.
But more often than not, transition is associated with pain in my mind, whether it be the early years or more recent ones.
1991 - Hours in classes at school, pretending as if maths tests, and jokes with friends, were the most important things in life. And then an hour of shock as I dealt with reality at home.
1993 - Quiet, silent observation as I decoded the new world around me, a different culture, a different ethos, stoically (and sometimes, not so stoically) countering barbed comments and glances.
1997 – A whirlwind of rage, triggered by helplessness, that lasted for several months until I made some peace with myself and the world around me. In the process, I caused too much destruction, to self and others.
And then…
2006 - A heartbreaking goodbye at the airport, coming back to a house that bombarded me with memories every square inch. And kept at it until I finally took a break and came back again after the emotions had dulled.
2010 - Walking back to my office seat after returning from Delhi, empty inside; the next few days pausing in the middle of meetings to look around me and wonder – is this real? How can this happen, how can I even talk, when I have nothing inside me? And then, as the numbness receded and the pain returned, the wonder that I was still alive, I could still think, talk, express…and even laugh and smile.
And now? Today I just sit with a smile on my face, presumably a wry one, since the irony of this piece of writing doesn’t escape me, considering that the trigger and the subject is the same.
The craziness of the last few days recedes a little; the protesting voice in my head increases its volume, and still gets an acknowledgement but not an acceptance; I don’t feel anything in particular, except just a little exhausted; I keep smiling at snippets of silliness that my memory throws up. And as I smile, a certainty grows in my mind and makes me smile even more. And then my eyes flick to my laptop screen, where a word stands out against a name – Offline.
As I look back, there are so many such moments that occur to me. Unfortunately, most of them are not a pleasant memory; but maybe that’s their nature – to cause the pain that leads to movement or change.
I remember standing on the railway platform in Delhi, waving to Unni as his train pulled out; Unni’s eyes wide and expressionless, Sidharth’s arm around my shoulder, Shekhar standing quietly by. We all knew a time was ending, a time that had been a roller coaster, but a wonderful time as well, bringing us together and forging relationships that would last a lifetime. I went back in Shekhar’s car and for that drive, and many days thereafter, I would keep getting those knots in my stomach as I thought of great moments that wouldn’t come again, of people I wouldn’t see again. And as much as I looked forward to the next phase of my life, the sense of loss was immense.
A couple of months later, I myself was departing on the same train to the same destination. This time it was me forcing myself to be cheerful and Mummy on the platform forcing a smile, and both of us pretending that this was a trip and not a move that would alter the way we lived, and loved. Lesson learnt – never spend a transitory period cooped up in a cabin from which there’s no respite.
I experienced transitions as a catalyst for growth first when I moved to Accenture. The experience was bewildering, irritating, intimidating, exhausting and ultimately – one of learning and growth. At the end of a typical long and frustrating conversation with GV, he looked into my eyes and asked “do you know your people?” Click. I rediscovered myself as an HR professional after that.
Another interesting phase was when I moved to Manila for a few months. The sense of alienation which gripped me (and caused a lot of acidity attacks) in the first couple of days actually turned out to be liberating. I could think afresh, I could craft relationships afresh, I could experiment with my working style, I could draft my own charter. A stream of energy sped through me which lasted for several weeks.
Or the day Arav was born. The apprehensions, the insecurity, the tension of the subsequent weeks was all worth it as it helped us all develop a greater appreciation and sensitivity of the people we are and what we are responsible for.
But more often than not, transition is associated with pain in my mind, whether it be the early years or more recent ones.
1991 - Hours in classes at school, pretending as if maths tests, and jokes with friends, were the most important things in life. And then an hour of shock as I dealt with reality at home.
1993 - Quiet, silent observation as I decoded the new world around me, a different culture, a different ethos, stoically (and sometimes, not so stoically) countering barbed comments and glances.
1997 – A whirlwind of rage, triggered by helplessness, that lasted for several months until I made some peace with myself and the world around me. In the process, I caused too much destruction, to self and others.
And then…
2006 - A heartbreaking goodbye at the airport, coming back to a house that bombarded me with memories every square inch. And kept at it until I finally took a break and came back again after the emotions had dulled.
2010 - Walking back to my office seat after returning from Delhi, empty inside; the next few days pausing in the middle of meetings to look around me and wonder – is this real? How can this happen, how can I even talk, when I have nothing inside me? And then, as the numbness receded and the pain returned, the wonder that I was still alive, I could still think, talk, express…and even laugh and smile.
And now? Today I just sit with a smile on my face, presumably a wry one, since the irony of this piece of writing doesn’t escape me, considering that the trigger and the subject is the same.
The craziness of the last few days recedes a little; the protesting voice in my head increases its volume, and still gets an acknowledgement but not an acceptance; I don’t feel anything in particular, except just a little exhausted; I keep smiling at snippets of silliness that my memory throws up. And as I smile, a certainty grows in my mind and makes me smile even more. And then my eyes flick to my laptop screen, where a word stands out against a name – Offline.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
who's got the power?
It's 1:40 am on a Saturday night and I must admit, I am tired. It's been my usual Saturday - a mix of time spent with myself and with close friends...some at home, some out...some drinks, some food, some shopping. Deepa is staying over; we saw an episode of project runway and she has now retired to her room. But I decided to linger a few moments more and capture some of the thoughts that have been running under the surface for a while.
Once again, I find myself in that place where a lot seems to be happening all at once, most of it not very pleasant. Some of the people closest to me, both family and friends, are going through a tough time, to the point that I am reminded of what was possibly the worst time of my life, mummy's first breakdown (which to me symbolised the worst that could happen to a loved one). There's my own emotional state I am trying to deal with, trying to strike a balance between being honest and kind with myself...and sometimes I feel its kinder to leave it ambiguous, the clarity I would normally aspire for can be a little too sharp. As I try to find that balance and act according to it, I remain on a roller coaster. And then there are the more banal, but equally significant, topics to not just deal with but act on, career & finances. One way or the other, there's a lot to think, a lot to feel.
Not that I am unfamiliar with this state of affairs; in fact it's got the eerie familiarity of an old illness. And not that I am overwhelmed by it; as I grow older, I realize that my measure of self control is actually improving and its not a myth! I am able to get a larger perspective more easily and my "external face" is not as much of a yo-yo as it used to be earlier.
No...what I am more interested in this time is how and why this comes together in such a way. To truly seek answers to this, one must be reasonably well versed in areas of philosophy, theology and possibly spirituality. But then, unlike Shw, I am not one to dig dig dig. I would rather ask the question and have a response, rather than an answer.
So are there are powers that control us? And what are the powers that we control? Are they one and the same?
I would try and find some responses through the situation I am in right now. Yes, there's a lot going on, within and around me. Is what's happening to me unique? No. Many people worry for their loved ones; people grieve; people fall in and out of relationships; people plan their careers; people think about their finances. What is unique though, are two things.
One, that all these threads (a word I am using more and more often) seem to come together and get all knotted up at the same time; this does point towards a larger power (for want of a better word) controlling the movement of events and emotions in such a direction. And the word movement brings me to our favorite pastime - guessing the actions of planets and stars that allegedly control the events in our life. And that honestly doesnt sound very weird to me at all. I believe life, whether it be on a day to day basis or at an aggregate level, is all about energy and our struggle to compensate the negative with the positive. And what are planetary movements all about? Energy right...and the generation of it? So it's natural that our lives react to that constant, powerful field of energy surrounding the earth and our solar system and our galaxy and be influenced by it. Thus impacting moods, behaviors and inner systems that in turn determine many of the events that we seem happening "to" us. And whenever there's a rush of negative energy, the course of events would reflect that. But as an inherent system, the negative does get compensated by the positive, and that's where my hope lies. That no negativity can survive forever, it will have to be replaced by something positive, even if it be through a catalytic change, which in itself can be painful. Easier understood than absorbed though...if I think about a true tragedy, then this just sounds like a consolation theory.
The other thing that's unique about this is me. My reaction. My response. That's something only I determine, using my own resources - my basic values, my pride, my principles, even the advice or energy or support of my loved ones. And that's what gives me an incredible feeling of power. Many times, people tell me they feel awed or humbled before a symbol of what they feel is a stronger, larger power. I feel it too. Especially at the most elemental level, like when looking upon the sea. But as I feel that power, I often feel this surge of an answering call within me, the one that says "do with me what you can, but I decide how I feel, not you". If this is foolish pride, then so be it - it's what saves me from feeling disempowered, helpless.
But I dont think this response is one of foolish pride or anything flippant - I think it's a manifestation of the fundamental concept that lies at the root of many of the oldest religions, what we refer to as parmatama. The consciousness of the individual is just one part of a much larger, universal consciousness, and they are always connected to each other. This flow of energy is what shapes us...and what I need to remember is that the flow of energy is not always from the large collective to the individual; our own spirit and our actions also shape and influence what happens collectively.
Whether it be in dealing with personal conflict and pain, or driving social change, or responding to cataclysmic events, I wish to keep that message resonating with myself - that I have the power. In the wee hours of the night, when I just feel tired from the physical and mental exertions of the day, it's a good message to think about as I hope for sleep.
Once again, I find myself in that place where a lot seems to be happening all at once, most of it not very pleasant. Some of the people closest to me, both family and friends, are going through a tough time, to the point that I am reminded of what was possibly the worst time of my life, mummy's first breakdown (which to me symbolised the worst that could happen to a loved one). There's my own emotional state I am trying to deal with, trying to strike a balance between being honest and kind with myself...and sometimes I feel its kinder to leave it ambiguous, the clarity I would normally aspire for can be a little too sharp. As I try to find that balance and act according to it, I remain on a roller coaster. And then there are the more banal, but equally significant, topics to not just deal with but act on, career & finances. One way or the other, there's a lot to think, a lot to feel.
Not that I am unfamiliar with this state of affairs; in fact it's got the eerie familiarity of an old illness. And not that I am overwhelmed by it; as I grow older, I realize that my measure of self control is actually improving and its not a myth! I am able to get a larger perspective more easily and my "external face" is not as much of a yo-yo as it used to be earlier.
No...what I am more interested in this time is how and why this comes together in such a way. To truly seek answers to this, one must be reasonably well versed in areas of philosophy, theology and possibly spirituality. But then, unlike Shw, I am not one to dig dig dig. I would rather ask the question and have a response, rather than an answer.
So are there are powers that control us? And what are the powers that we control? Are they one and the same?
I would try and find some responses through the situation I am in right now. Yes, there's a lot going on, within and around me. Is what's happening to me unique? No. Many people worry for their loved ones; people grieve; people fall in and out of relationships; people plan their careers; people think about their finances. What is unique though, are two things.
One, that all these threads (a word I am using more and more often) seem to come together and get all knotted up at the same time; this does point towards a larger power (for want of a better word) controlling the movement of events and emotions in such a direction. And the word movement brings me to our favorite pastime - guessing the actions of planets and stars that allegedly control the events in our life. And that honestly doesnt sound very weird to me at all. I believe life, whether it be on a day to day basis or at an aggregate level, is all about energy and our struggle to compensate the negative with the positive. And what are planetary movements all about? Energy right...and the generation of it? So it's natural that our lives react to that constant, powerful field of energy surrounding the earth and our solar system and our galaxy and be influenced by it. Thus impacting moods, behaviors and inner systems that in turn determine many of the events that we seem happening "to" us. And whenever there's a rush of negative energy, the course of events would reflect that. But as an inherent system, the negative does get compensated by the positive, and that's where my hope lies. That no negativity can survive forever, it will have to be replaced by something positive, even if it be through a catalytic change, which in itself can be painful. Easier understood than absorbed though...if I think about a true tragedy, then this just sounds like a consolation theory.
The other thing that's unique about this is me. My reaction. My response. That's something only I determine, using my own resources - my basic values, my pride, my principles, even the advice or energy or support of my loved ones. And that's what gives me an incredible feeling of power. Many times, people tell me they feel awed or humbled before a symbol of what they feel is a stronger, larger power. I feel it too. Especially at the most elemental level, like when looking upon the sea. But as I feel that power, I often feel this surge of an answering call within me, the one that says "do with me what you can, but I decide how I feel, not you". If this is foolish pride, then so be it - it's what saves me from feeling disempowered, helpless.
But I dont think this response is one of foolish pride or anything flippant - I think it's a manifestation of the fundamental concept that lies at the root of many of the oldest religions, what we refer to as parmatama. The consciousness of the individual is just one part of a much larger, universal consciousness, and they are always connected to each other. This flow of energy is what shapes us...and what I need to remember is that the flow of energy is not always from the large collective to the individual; our own spirit and our actions also shape and influence what happens collectively.
Whether it be in dealing with personal conflict and pain, or driving social change, or responding to cataclysmic events, I wish to keep that message resonating with myself - that I have the power. In the wee hours of the night, when I just feel tired from the physical and mental exertions of the day, it's a good message to think about as I hope for sleep.
Thursday, March 08, 2012
My stimulus
Constant exchanges with V - banter, conversations, his writings - have been one of the main reasons for my recent resurgence/ stimulation. One sample is below. I am inspired by the constant flow of thought & energy...and yes, the personality.
I trudged up a mountain…the mountain was a sea
The mountain was a sea…
I went down a slope…skid several steps below
Didn’t realize the mountain was a sea
The waves cut deep..
Didn’t realize that I could brave the sea
Didn’t realize that it gave me strength
It gave me life
It buoyed me when I went down.
It gave me a hundred reasons to smile
It was my mountain and my sea
So I swam
And I rose…
I didn’t fall a step
I always let go
And now I know…
I live that sea
And I stand that tall mountain
I’m strong and I’m wise
And that mountain and sea is my life
- V
I trudged up a mountain…the mountain was a sea
The mountain was a sea…
I went down a slope…skid several steps below
Didn’t realize the mountain was a sea
The waves cut deep..
Didn’t realize that I could brave the sea
Didn’t realize that it gave me strength
It gave me life
It buoyed me when I went down.
It gave me a hundred reasons to smile
It was my mountain and my sea
So I swam
And I rose…
I didn’t fall a step
I always let go
And now I know…
I live that sea
And I stand that tall mountain
I’m strong and I’m wise
And that mountain and sea is my life
- V
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
Just taking charge
So a couple of weeks ago, I pinged Rajesh and told him I am frustrated at the sheer lack of new work done in LD for IDC over the last few months. He got the point. So did Becky. Today, I managed to anchor a 4 hour "working session" between 5 of us, and got the group to have a common pov and agree on 4 key actions. Loving myself!
I have also officially put my stake in the ground to find a new role within Accenture. As I remain open to exploring "opportunities" outside, I think its time I anyway started planning out my next move within the organization....and considering how the heavenly bodies are planning their movements, I shall be but another speck on the tail of some headwind. Nevertheless, this speck is determined to find its right home for the next couple of years.
I have also officially put my stake in the ground to find a new role within Accenture. As I remain open to exploring "opportunities" outside, I think its time I anyway started planning out my next move within the organization....and considering how the heavenly bodies are planning their movements, I shall be but another speck on the tail of some headwind. Nevertheless, this speck is determined to find its right home for the next couple of years.
Monday, March 05, 2012
Expressions with old friends and new...
Connecting with three old friends over a period of twenty four hours is....comforting. A long Sunday evening at Deepa's...and then a chat with Unni (whose birthday I nearly forgot as usual!), and then Shweta's in town, so we just caught up before crashing. It was as if after rolling on top of a turbulent sea, I entered a point of calm where the shore suddenly seemed nearer and the sky lighter. The sea is still there, and so are all the things in it, but it's less intimidating than it was earlier.
And yes, sometimes just expressing what's on your mind helps. A long dialogue over sms (as contradictory as that sounds) with V on Sat night was surprisingly effective in clarifying the mind and loosening the knots. Add the familiarity and comfort factor of an old friend to that mix, and who the hell needs counseling.
Well ok...maybe I do...but that's another story :)
And yes, sometimes just expressing what's on your mind helps. A long dialogue over sms (as contradictory as that sounds) with V on Sat night was surprisingly effective in clarifying the mind and loosening the knots. Add the familiarity and comfort factor of an old friend to that mix, and who the hell needs counseling.
Well ok...maybe I do...but that's another story :)
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Back to verbal diarrhea?
The last two months have been interesting, painful, inspiring, fulfilling, frustrating, saddening and joyous in equal measure. And, ironically, catalytic. I think I switched back on during my long trip, when feeling and thoughts suddenly found words and expression, and then I moved to No. 2 or 3 in fan speed on that fateful evening in Toit in December. Since then, it's been a bit of a tangled web, which I work through each day, all the while realizing that this is bigger than me...that something fundamental is shifting within and beyond, and that the person I will be at the end of this year is going to be very different from the person I am right now. It is scary and uncomfortable, but in a way exciting too.
The only way I can make sense of this journey is actually not by viewing the bigger picture but breaking it up into much smaller pieces, easier to understand, accept and digest. And by a constant "untangling" of the multiple threads that swarm around each day.
So I am going to try and spend 15 min each night just writing here. Whatever comes to my mind, whatever's top of my mind as I end the day. It means I will give up 15 min from my reading each day...which I can manage, considering the last year or two I have been on an overdrive when it comes to books. So here's hoping I will be able to maintain that discipline!
The only way I can make sense of this journey is actually not by viewing the bigger picture but breaking it up into much smaller pieces, easier to understand, accept and digest. And by a constant "untangling" of the multiple threads that swarm around each day.
So I am going to try and spend 15 min each night just writing here. Whatever comes to my mind, whatever's top of my mind as I end the day. It means I will give up 15 min from my reading each day...which I can manage, considering the last year or two I have been on an overdrive when it comes to books. So here's hoping I will be able to maintain that discipline!
Movies of 2011
(written in Jan 2011)
2011 stands out as the most disappointing year in movies I can remember. Even the movies I liked the most barely stand up to earlier favorites. I must admit though that I am partly at fault – I didn’t see several movies which got very favorable reviews.
Even so, the year was filled with disappointments – established filmmakers and stars, who so far had had a keen eye for quality, delivered turkeys. A terrible, terrible film became the biggest grosser of the year (even if blockbusters weren’t known for their artistic merit, there had always been a baseline level of quality, which disappeared this year). And the overall caliber of actresses plummeted further with Kareena settling for being arm candy, Katrina being the most chased of Barbie dolls, and other talented actresses being out of work. In comparison, Vidya Balan sparkled, albeit partly on her own merit. Which is probably why no top “hero” is working with her. Compare this with the hey-days of Sridevi and Madhuri, or even Kajol and Karisma, when they worked with the top actors of the time, and the gap is even more stark.
If I do need to find the silver lining, it would be that the performances of lead actors were far superior than the films surrounding them – they were often let down by lazy scripting or loose editing. Also, the scripts themselves were quite varied, continuing the trends of the last few years. Smaller films made with lower budgets and lesser stars no longer get ignored but do decent business in a niche market, somewhat compensating for the success of the monstrous ones.
So here’s the best of the worst in 2011, according to me…
Delhi Belly – great fun, well told, quietly broke a lot of new ground in Hindi cinema especially in terms of characters.
Rockstar – to me, this was a pitch perfect performance by Ranbir, conveying the passion and angst the film demanded. Nargis performed at the other end of the spectrum, dulling the overall impact.
Don 2 – extremely disappointing compared to anticipation and potential. But SRK saved the day and made it very watchable.
Dhobi Ghat – I didn’t expect much and maybe that’s why was pleasantly surprised. Smooth, subtle and one of those movies that lend itself to repeated watch
Ragini MMS – a well made horror. Always welcome!
Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara – again, disappointing compared to what it could have been. But still a cut above the rest – unusual premise, interesting characters, good music and a very attractive Farhan.
The Dirty Picture – great performances, fresh script, average execution
Yeh Saali Zindagi – gritty and edgy with good performances.
Shor in the City – experimental format of multiple stories linked together (also seen in Dhobi Ghat) – and it worked to a point. Good pace and performances but missed the impact somehow.
No One Killed Jessica – again, could have been a great movie. Ended up being a rather unimaginative recital elevated by Rani and Vidya.
Movies that could have made the grade had I watched them - Budddha Hoga Tera Baap, Bol, Stanley Ka Dabba, I AM, Mujhse Fraandship Karoge.
And the most disappointing movies of the year – Saat Khoon Maaf and RA-One. Even though I am a Vishal Bhardwaj and SRK fan, I wouldn’t dare list them as favorites. At the most, I found both the movies mildly entertaining.
FYI, my favorite movies of 2010 were the following. Even the bottom of the list in 2010 is better than the top in 2011!
Band Baaja Baraat
Lahore
Tere Bin Laden
My Name is Khan
Dabangg
13B
Rajneeti
Ishqiya
Karthik Calling Karthik
Once Upon a Time in Mumbai
Jhootha Hi Sahi
Guzaarish
Do Dooni Char
2011 stands out as the most disappointing year in movies I can remember. Even the movies I liked the most barely stand up to earlier favorites. I must admit though that I am partly at fault – I didn’t see several movies which got very favorable reviews.
Even so, the year was filled with disappointments – established filmmakers and stars, who so far had had a keen eye for quality, delivered turkeys. A terrible, terrible film became the biggest grosser of the year (even if blockbusters weren’t known for their artistic merit, there had always been a baseline level of quality, which disappeared this year). And the overall caliber of actresses plummeted further with Kareena settling for being arm candy, Katrina being the most chased of Barbie dolls, and other talented actresses being out of work. In comparison, Vidya Balan sparkled, albeit partly on her own merit. Which is probably why no top “hero” is working with her. Compare this with the hey-days of Sridevi and Madhuri, or even Kajol and Karisma, when they worked with the top actors of the time, and the gap is even more stark.
If I do need to find the silver lining, it would be that the performances of lead actors were far superior than the films surrounding them – they were often let down by lazy scripting or loose editing. Also, the scripts themselves were quite varied, continuing the trends of the last few years. Smaller films made with lower budgets and lesser stars no longer get ignored but do decent business in a niche market, somewhat compensating for the success of the monstrous ones.
So here’s the best of the worst in 2011, according to me…
Delhi Belly – great fun, well told, quietly broke a lot of new ground in Hindi cinema especially in terms of characters.
Rockstar – to me, this was a pitch perfect performance by Ranbir, conveying the passion and angst the film demanded. Nargis performed at the other end of the spectrum, dulling the overall impact.
Don 2 – extremely disappointing compared to anticipation and potential. But SRK saved the day and made it very watchable.
Dhobi Ghat – I didn’t expect much and maybe that’s why was pleasantly surprised. Smooth, subtle and one of those movies that lend itself to repeated watch
Ragini MMS – a well made horror. Always welcome!
Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara – again, disappointing compared to what it could have been. But still a cut above the rest – unusual premise, interesting characters, good music and a very attractive Farhan.
The Dirty Picture – great performances, fresh script, average execution
Yeh Saali Zindagi – gritty and edgy with good performances.
Shor in the City – experimental format of multiple stories linked together (also seen in Dhobi Ghat) – and it worked to a point. Good pace and performances but missed the impact somehow.
No One Killed Jessica – again, could have been a great movie. Ended up being a rather unimaginative recital elevated by Rani and Vidya.
Movies that could have made the grade had I watched them - Budddha Hoga Tera Baap, Bol, Stanley Ka Dabba, I AM, Mujhse Fraandship Karoge.
And the most disappointing movies of the year – Saat Khoon Maaf and RA-One. Even though I am a Vishal Bhardwaj and SRK fan, I wouldn’t dare list them as favorites. At the most, I found both the movies mildly entertaining.
FYI, my favorite movies of 2010 were the following. Even the bottom of the list in 2010 is better than the top in 2011!
Band Baaja Baraat
Lahore
Tere Bin Laden
My Name is Khan
Dabangg
13B
Rajneeti
Ishqiya
Karthik Calling Karthik
Once Upon a Time in Mumbai
Jhootha Hi Sahi
Guzaarish
Do Dooni Char
Ruminations of a 3-day tourist in Paris
(written in Oct 2011)
Why people would want to sit on tiny tables three feet away from roaring traffic and poisonous fumes, consume copious amounts of food and drink at a leisurely pace, and believe that they are absorbing the feel of being in gay Paree, is beyond me. While I am familiar with the Indian culinary obsession with street food garnished with dirt and other unmentionables, I doubt if that is what’s on the mind of these well-heeled guests. Maybe the answer lies across the road, in those little book-shacks (for want of a better word, or the right French term).
Benevolent dictatorships and autocracies around the world could take some tips from these shacks on how to sell idealism and romance and make people believe in (and shell out good money for) a reality that doesn’t exist. Three out of every five shacks have a couple of hundred drawings, watercolors and sometimes oil paintings of Paris’ most scenic aspects captured on paper. What’s interesting to note is that none of these include even a hint of anything that resembles automobiles, mobile phones, dispirited trees or any of other symbols of current urban sadness. And if there are people, they are usually dressed in clothes right off designer racks, or carry large umbrellas that can act as alternative homes to the homeless (who also never appear in any of the scenes depicting Seine’s walkways). And all the shacks contain some form of literature – novels by French authors, or French translations of books from all over the world (thus perpetuating the assumption of this being the center of the literary world), old and new comics, covers of vintage magazines, old philosophical and educational tomes and so on. If an alien were to land right there, it could be forgiven for thinking it had found Utopia. Not that you need to be from another planet to believe that. Hordes of tourists collectively fall under the influence of this opium and spend pleasurable days browsing these shacks, walking along the river and eating their onion soup three feet away from the friendly neighborhood cars & scooters. Yours truly included.
Absinthe and assorted drugs may have been responsible for the creation of some great art, including poetry, novels and paintings in Paris in the eighteenth and nineteenth century. But it is these shacks and museums, and the tourists in them, which will probably trigger a similar explosion of material for the subsequent generations. Except that instead of novels and poetry, what they will be subjected to are endless galleries chronicling every frame of the city through photographs. Every picturesque (or even the not-so-picturesque) surface of the city will be recorded for posterity; whether it be the gothic arches and cobbled streets, or the underbelly of bridges and chain supermarket fronts, all are fair game. And the custodians and unwitting historians of this priceless archiving will be the Chinese, who faithfully click away at everything pointed out by flag-waving tour guides, all the while delicately balancing their Louis Vuitton bags on their arms. Despite all these changes, the assorted life forms carved and embellished on most Parisian buildings continue to look down disdainfully at us mere mortals clicking away or gazing at them in awe. It’s as if these centuries-old symbols of Parisian culture and aesthetics have seen plenty come and go, secure that they present a splendid vista difficult to replicate at such scale and density in any other place. Even in China.
However, other than LV, another thing that the Chinese and Europeans have in common is their love for queues (which of course is directly opposite to Indians who wouldn’t know a queue if it bit them). As a tourist hot spot, Paris has prepared itself well. At most information or ticket counters, the clerks try to respond in English (never mind the exasperated raised eyebrows and unintelligible accents, at least they try!) and most tourist attractions are equipped with automated ticket machines. But if there’s someone doing a return-on-investment study on these machines, they would produce a disappointing report as nearly all of them remain woefully underutilized while thousands (okay, hundreds) of sheep (okay, people) stand patiently in line to buy tickets from the aforementioned clerks staring vacantly into space. I can just see our middle class grandfathers rubbing their hands in glee as they look on these fine examples of people who work hard for what they get. Or maybe they just enjoy the social interaction.
Not that social interaction is in short supply. For a society that regularly dishes out movies about lonely, dysfunctional people, most people on the streets look surprisingly chirpy, thus proving that movies reflect an alternate reality. Even the staff in service roles (and I use the word service in the most loose form imaginable) talk amiably to each other, whereas in most other cities they usually just grunt and growl. But then most other cities are not as beautiful; not that the Parisians would let you believe that they think their city’s beautiful, their magnificent shrugs could fool you into thinking they take their city for granted. After all, it’s just not done to show pleasure at such compliments, even if they are expected. That would be quite American, and that’s one thing they are certainly not. No…they belong to the land that’s given the world some of the finest art and architecture over the last few centuries, not to mention the fries, cheese, wine, kisses, beards and windows the modern world knows them for.
But is that excuse enough for the famous unflappable shrug in response to every question, even logical ones like “why is this counter closed when it’s not closing time yet”? Or for staring at you like you are a demented stranger, instead of a respectable successful man who’s just trying to tie his scarf against the wind? Or for the shockingly slow service at the cafes, even if the waiters are impossibly chic and cute? Artistic gestures of the hand are not a substitute for the soup I ordered, I felt like telling them sometimes. But then they would have looked at me as if I am retarded and shrugged. You can’t win. Once the soup does arrive, followed by other delicacies, the magic begins to work and you calm down and look upon the world with kindly eyes, and even the eye-popping amount in the bill is paid with the careless indulgence that billionaires might display towards their most recently purchased yacht.
Despite all this seeming indifference, the French do get roused to emotion sometimes. It could be while passionately arguing the merits of a book or denouncing the Americans. How they reconcile that with their eager sampling of American food chains and designer brands is something I wonder at. Like the French lady who told me that all current economic, social and political ills of the world are caused by America, all the while sipping on a Coke glass as large as her handbag. Politeness (and my fear of being greeted by that shrug) forbade me from asking her if current economic woes could have been lessened if the French were to work just a little bit more. Paris probably rivals (and outdoes) Calcutta in the number of strikes its workforce goes on during the year. They get their training in school with never being made to study for more than 2 days in a row.
On the other hand, this attitude to work is precisely what allows them to look after themselves with the luxury and intensityaffordable only by rich socialites elsewhere in the world. When one speaks or thinks of the beauty of Paris, it is not just the architecture and the river and the museum that comes to mind, but the people themselves. With their carelessly draped scarves and the carefully tousled hair, they makes us tourists bow our head in shame and quickly fork out more euros for more wine.
Having arrived here from London, it was natural for me to make some immediate comparisons. The difference in language and style aside (why do the Londoners need to try so hard to look good?), I would choose the British sense of humor and courtesy (even if most of it is bathed in sarcasm) over the cool, inscrutable gaze and stealthy smiles of the French. London is much greener too and seems to have less traffic. Though the French cafes and bars have cleaner toilets. It’s a close call.
But what even a Londoner would appreciate is the sheer richness of craft and detail in the city. Every imaginable surface is embellished and painted and gilded with a level of detail that would challenge Thackeray’s talent for descriptive narratives. As for the corners, the architects and artisans seemed to have participated in competitions for the most exotic and dramatic ones, resulting in a set of sights that drain the cameras and the souls both, sending us to the nearest bar in need of urgent refreshments.
You could also head to the Moulin Rouge which, aside from sporting the trendiest windmill this side of the world, is helpfully near to a series of sex shops of such scale, variety and size that would put some of the notorious Asian cities to shame. But then, this is Paris. Turn a corner, and you would find yourself walking up steep alleys, filled with cafes and bars where pretty young things are earnestly discussing what could be the works of Voltaire but could easily be the features of the latest Apple products. It could very well be the former. In those book shacks along the river, as I greedily browse through the authors and titles and wonder how long it will take me to learn French, I am not rubbing shoulders with people of my age or older as in other cities, but instead with a younger crowd who interact with the owners, who in turn resume their reading in between chats, another difference from other places.
Before I know it, this round of coffees, drinks, walks, books, eavesdropping, observing and photography comes to an end and I am back to the French version of the Mumbai local rail station, the Charles De Gaulle airport. After a couple of hours of standing in queues, disdainful staff and expensive coffees, I am on the plane to London, sighing with relief.
But as the aircraft rises, my irritation level falls and I spy the river beneath. And I am taken back in time. The light falls on the water and reflects back on the arched stone bridges. The gentle wind, with a hint of chill, ruffling the surface. The friends and lovers sit with their picnic lunches along the bank. The glimpse of the intricate buildings on the road, the sound of traffic in the background. And a solitary figure takes this all in and resolves to return. Soon.
Why people would want to sit on tiny tables three feet away from roaring traffic and poisonous fumes, consume copious amounts of food and drink at a leisurely pace, and believe that they are absorbing the feel of being in gay Paree, is beyond me. While I am familiar with the Indian culinary obsession with street food garnished with dirt and other unmentionables, I doubt if that is what’s on the mind of these well-heeled guests. Maybe the answer lies across the road, in those little book-shacks (for want of a better word, or the right French term).
Benevolent dictatorships and autocracies around the world could take some tips from these shacks on how to sell idealism and romance and make people believe in (and shell out good money for) a reality that doesn’t exist. Three out of every five shacks have a couple of hundred drawings, watercolors and sometimes oil paintings of Paris’ most scenic aspects captured on paper. What’s interesting to note is that none of these include even a hint of anything that resembles automobiles, mobile phones, dispirited trees or any of other symbols of current urban sadness. And if there are people, they are usually dressed in clothes right off designer racks, or carry large umbrellas that can act as alternative homes to the homeless (who also never appear in any of the scenes depicting Seine’s walkways). And all the shacks contain some form of literature – novels by French authors, or French translations of books from all over the world (thus perpetuating the assumption of this being the center of the literary world), old and new comics, covers of vintage magazines, old philosophical and educational tomes and so on. If an alien were to land right there, it could be forgiven for thinking it had found Utopia. Not that you need to be from another planet to believe that. Hordes of tourists collectively fall under the influence of this opium and spend pleasurable days browsing these shacks, walking along the river and eating their onion soup three feet away from the friendly neighborhood cars & scooters. Yours truly included.
Absinthe and assorted drugs may have been responsible for the creation of some great art, including poetry, novels and paintings in Paris in the eighteenth and nineteenth century. But it is these shacks and museums, and the tourists in them, which will probably trigger a similar explosion of material for the subsequent generations. Except that instead of novels and poetry, what they will be subjected to are endless galleries chronicling every frame of the city through photographs. Every picturesque (or even the not-so-picturesque) surface of the city will be recorded for posterity; whether it be the gothic arches and cobbled streets, or the underbelly of bridges and chain supermarket fronts, all are fair game. And the custodians and unwitting historians of this priceless archiving will be the Chinese, who faithfully click away at everything pointed out by flag-waving tour guides, all the while delicately balancing their Louis Vuitton bags on their arms. Despite all these changes, the assorted life forms carved and embellished on most Parisian buildings continue to look down disdainfully at us mere mortals clicking away or gazing at them in awe. It’s as if these centuries-old symbols of Parisian culture and aesthetics have seen plenty come and go, secure that they present a splendid vista difficult to replicate at such scale and density in any other place. Even in China.
However, other than LV, another thing that the Chinese and Europeans have in common is their love for queues (which of course is directly opposite to Indians who wouldn’t know a queue if it bit them). As a tourist hot spot, Paris has prepared itself well. At most information or ticket counters, the clerks try to respond in English (never mind the exasperated raised eyebrows and unintelligible accents, at least they try!) and most tourist attractions are equipped with automated ticket machines. But if there’s someone doing a return-on-investment study on these machines, they would produce a disappointing report as nearly all of them remain woefully underutilized while thousands (okay, hundreds) of sheep (okay, people) stand patiently in line to buy tickets from the aforementioned clerks staring vacantly into space. I can just see our middle class grandfathers rubbing their hands in glee as they look on these fine examples of people who work hard for what they get. Or maybe they just enjoy the social interaction.
Not that social interaction is in short supply. For a society that regularly dishes out movies about lonely, dysfunctional people, most people on the streets look surprisingly chirpy, thus proving that movies reflect an alternate reality. Even the staff in service roles (and I use the word service in the most loose form imaginable) talk amiably to each other, whereas in most other cities they usually just grunt and growl. But then most other cities are not as beautiful; not that the Parisians would let you believe that they think their city’s beautiful, their magnificent shrugs could fool you into thinking they take their city for granted. After all, it’s just not done to show pleasure at such compliments, even if they are expected. That would be quite American, and that’s one thing they are certainly not. No…they belong to the land that’s given the world some of the finest art and architecture over the last few centuries, not to mention the fries, cheese, wine, kisses, beards and windows the modern world knows them for.
But is that excuse enough for the famous unflappable shrug in response to every question, even logical ones like “why is this counter closed when it’s not closing time yet”? Or for staring at you like you are a demented stranger, instead of a respectable successful man who’s just trying to tie his scarf against the wind? Or for the shockingly slow service at the cafes, even if the waiters are impossibly chic and cute? Artistic gestures of the hand are not a substitute for the soup I ordered, I felt like telling them sometimes. But then they would have looked at me as if I am retarded and shrugged. You can’t win. Once the soup does arrive, followed by other delicacies, the magic begins to work and you calm down and look upon the world with kindly eyes, and even the eye-popping amount in the bill is paid with the careless indulgence that billionaires might display towards their most recently purchased yacht.
Despite all this seeming indifference, the French do get roused to emotion sometimes. It could be while passionately arguing the merits of a book or denouncing the Americans. How they reconcile that with their eager sampling of American food chains and designer brands is something I wonder at. Like the French lady who told me that all current economic, social and political ills of the world are caused by America, all the while sipping on a Coke glass as large as her handbag. Politeness (and my fear of being greeted by that shrug) forbade me from asking her if current economic woes could have been lessened if the French were to work just a little bit more. Paris probably rivals (and outdoes) Calcutta in the number of strikes its workforce goes on during the year. They get their training in school with never being made to study for more than 2 days in a row.
On the other hand, this attitude to work is precisely what allows them to look after themselves with the luxury and intensityaffordable only by rich socialites elsewhere in the world. When one speaks or thinks of the beauty of Paris, it is not just the architecture and the river and the museum that comes to mind, but the people themselves. With their carelessly draped scarves and the carefully tousled hair, they makes us tourists bow our head in shame and quickly fork out more euros for more wine.
Having arrived here from London, it was natural for me to make some immediate comparisons. The difference in language and style aside (why do the Londoners need to try so hard to look good?), I would choose the British sense of humor and courtesy (even if most of it is bathed in sarcasm) over the cool, inscrutable gaze and stealthy smiles of the French. London is much greener too and seems to have less traffic. Though the French cafes and bars have cleaner toilets. It’s a close call.
But what even a Londoner would appreciate is the sheer richness of craft and detail in the city. Every imaginable surface is embellished and painted and gilded with a level of detail that would challenge Thackeray’s talent for descriptive narratives. As for the corners, the architects and artisans seemed to have participated in competitions for the most exotic and dramatic ones, resulting in a set of sights that drain the cameras and the souls both, sending us to the nearest bar in need of urgent refreshments.
You could also head to the Moulin Rouge which, aside from sporting the trendiest windmill this side of the world, is helpfully near to a series of sex shops of such scale, variety and size that would put some of the notorious Asian cities to shame. But then, this is Paris. Turn a corner, and you would find yourself walking up steep alleys, filled with cafes and bars where pretty young things are earnestly discussing what could be the works of Voltaire but could easily be the features of the latest Apple products. It could very well be the former. In those book shacks along the river, as I greedily browse through the authors and titles and wonder how long it will take me to learn French, I am not rubbing shoulders with people of my age or older as in other cities, but instead with a younger crowd who interact with the owners, who in turn resume their reading in between chats, another difference from other places.
Before I know it, this round of coffees, drinks, walks, books, eavesdropping, observing and photography comes to an end and I am back to the French version of the Mumbai local rail station, the Charles De Gaulle airport. After a couple of hours of standing in queues, disdainful staff and expensive coffees, I am on the plane to London, sighing with relief.
But as the aircraft rises, my irritation level falls and I spy the river beneath. And I am taken back in time. The light falls on the water and reflects back on the arched stone bridges. The gentle wind, with a hint of chill, ruffling the surface. The friends and lovers sit with their picnic lunches along the bank. The glimpse of the intricate buildings on the road, the sound of traffic in the background. And a solitary figure takes this all in and resolves to return. Soon.
God bless
(written in Oct 2011, on my trip)
I sit at the café looking out of the windows that give me a clear view of the square, in all its windy and cobbled glory. Empty chairs belonging to this café and the others around it are placed around the edges of the square, waiting for customers that they know will not come. A moss-covered statue stands tall in the middle, completing the look. There’s the town hall, trying to look dignified and imposing, in vain. There’s the usual assortment of self-important buildings strewn around the square, and even a large clock. A few people wander on the streets, braving the chill, possibly for early shopping. But my eye is caught by a woman.
A lady, I should say. She sits upright in one of the chairs of the café, right outside the window, taking occasional sips from a cup of steaming coffee placed on her table. She is clad in a long, well-cut trench coat and dark colored books that are not muddy despite the weather. Her eyes are clear and her face unlined, though her advanced age is obvious by her grey hair, clearly swept back from her face and arranged in neat frames around it. Her ears sport pearl earrings, but she’s not wearing any other jewellery, except for a silver, delicate watch. There’s a relaxed expression on her face as she smokes a cigarette, though I can’t see the packet in sight.
That, and the grey hair, suddenly makes me think of Nanima. I wonder what she would have to say. Would she balk at the smoking, deeming it unfit for a person who should be setting examples for the others? Or would she instead comment on the whole ensemble – the clothes, the hair, the attitude? I actually suspect that she would be a little admiring. Not of the cigarette, but the fact that an elderly lady is sitting in a café on her own, having coffee, unencumbered by people around her and obviously quite relaxed about it. A rare sight in India. And if there’s one person who could understand the dignity and independence of this scene, it would be Nanima.
Not that she didn’t like to be around people.Far from it. She looked forward to social occasions and had a strong sense of family, first bringing up three children with undivided attention and then pretty much rearing me, my sister and my cousin in our early years, giving us so much love that it acted as our foundation of confidence for most of our adult lives. But she also had a sense of self that set her apart from all her peers who got defined only in relation to their husbands and children.
As I look again at the well cut coat and expensive shoes of the lady at the cafe, I recollect the white and blue printed silk sarees that Nanimawas fond of, wearing them crisply tucked in, a cream shawl on her shoulders, a small handbag on her arms, setting out for “work”. Never mind that the work was sometimes to go and help out at her brother in law’s office, or sometimes to change two crowded buses and travel a couple of hours to reach a village, where she would talk to the women about education and smokeless chulhas. She would often stop by at our place, ringing our bell from below and smiling broadly as I peeped over the terrace ledge and told her how nice she was looking. Sometimes it would be to ask us if we needed anything, sometimes it would be just to drop some goodies she had brought. In the evening, at her little one room apartment, she would cook a simple but hearty meal of paranthas, which she would have sitting in front of her tiny TV. If the next day were a weekend, she would stock up on mangoes or other fruits, knowing that my sister or I would pay her a visit. We would spend our afternoon or evening there, often forsaking our air conditioned room to spend time with her; share our school stories as she listened eagerly, listen to her experiences and advise her sagely, eat up all the fruits and whatever else was available, sometimes just in silence and take a nap on the warmest of beds, and usually go for a walk in the evening, with an ice cream or peanuts at the end of it.
The thought of the peanuts suddenly makes me remember the yogurt covered peanuts I have in my bag, one of my many gluttonous weaknesses. But peanuts make me thirsty and I need to ask for some water. My friends say I must have been a camel in my earlier life, so rarely do I have water. I guess I got it from my mother, who’s the same. Was Nanima like that too?
As with everything else, she was fastidious about eating habits. Not that she insisted on elaborate traditional regiments, but she liked to have her three meals at predictable times, with a predictable level of nutrition involved. She could never understand, or appreciate, people who took food lightly. Not one to sermonize, she would instead take things into her own hands and drum up something simple, nutritious and usually delicious. Not that the kitchen was the center of her active life. She would wash clothes, make breakfast for the family, personally clean her own room, supervise the maids and generally look after wherever she would live. And find time for watching some tv and reading till she slept off with the glasses on her face and the light on. And if you asked her to come out for a movie or shopping, she would be ready in a matter of minutes. How she found that energy that would shame people half her age (and did), I never knew. A couple of times when I asked her, she just said “Jo karnahai so karna hai; aur kuch cheezen pasand hai”.
That simple response is a lesson to all of us armchair philosophers. These kids cycling on the square, do they know what that means? Or are they too dissolved in existential angst and endless debates about what they want versus what they need versus what’s the right thing to do? Nanima discovered early on that sometimes there’s no choice, you just need to deal with what life gives you and make the best of it. Whether it be moving at an early age from Pakistan to India, or living most of her life in stringent financial conditions or the self-absorbed unwitting neglect of her adult children and grandchildren. Or living in a disturbed household for seven years. When she finally left, determinedly shutting her ears to the crying voice of the child she loved the most, she maintained a calm that broke only when she sobbed her heart out for many days, alone. The same calm that she displayed as her siblings and children were struck by tragedy time after time, she alone standing like a pillar of strength, offering both love and a fortitude that tested the vagaries of destiny. You have no choice as you look on the faces of the dead, your loved ones, and retreat into a silence of fatalistic acceptance, yet invincible dignity.
But as I myself struggle to recover from an over exhausted mind and body, and see similar faces around me, I know that the secret to carrying on is not to accept that there’s no choice, but to believe that our choice is about us, and how we react to the world around.
In one of my last conversations with her, she spoke in her usual practical tone about whether it’s worth spending money on her neighborhood kitty considering that each round takes more than a year and she is not certain if she will survive the next one. As I responded vehemently that she is in good health and such statements only attract negative energy, she changed the subject and asked me about my upcoming vacation plans and then signed off with her customary “god bless”. A few weeks later, I returned from the vacation and spent a night with restless dreams about her, waking up with a resolve to speak with her. But she was gone, passed away the way she wanted to, quickly, painlessly and without fuss, next to her daughter.
The square is deserted by now, the chilly wind having dispersed the last of the brave souls. The sky is grey, the street lamps dispel weak light. And the lady at the table is gone. In the faint distance, someone calls out “Nanima, Nanima”, in an urgent, emphatic voice assured of the attention and affection of her response.
The voice is mine, so are the tears.
I sit at the café looking out of the windows that give me a clear view of the square, in all its windy and cobbled glory. Empty chairs belonging to this café and the others around it are placed around the edges of the square, waiting for customers that they know will not come. A moss-covered statue stands tall in the middle, completing the look. There’s the town hall, trying to look dignified and imposing, in vain. There’s the usual assortment of self-important buildings strewn around the square, and even a large clock. A few people wander on the streets, braving the chill, possibly for early shopping. But my eye is caught by a woman.
A lady, I should say. She sits upright in one of the chairs of the café, right outside the window, taking occasional sips from a cup of steaming coffee placed on her table. She is clad in a long, well-cut trench coat and dark colored books that are not muddy despite the weather. Her eyes are clear and her face unlined, though her advanced age is obvious by her grey hair, clearly swept back from her face and arranged in neat frames around it. Her ears sport pearl earrings, but she’s not wearing any other jewellery, except for a silver, delicate watch. There’s a relaxed expression on her face as she smokes a cigarette, though I can’t see the packet in sight.
That, and the grey hair, suddenly makes me think of Nanima. I wonder what she would have to say. Would she balk at the smoking, deeming it unfit for a person who should be setting examples for the others? Or would she instead comment on the whole ensemble – the clothes, the hair, the attitude? I actually suspect that she would be a little admiring. Not of the cigarette, but the fact that an elderly lady is sitting in a café on her own, having coffee, unencumbered by people around her and obviously quite relaxed about it. A rare sight in India. And if there’s one person who could understand the dignity and independence of this scene, it would be Nanima.
Not that she didn’t like to be around people.Far from it. She looked forward to social occasions and had a strong sense of family, first bringing up three children with undivided attention and then pretty much rearing me, my sister and my cousin in our early years, giving us so much love that it acted as our foundation of confidence for most of our adult lives. But she also had a sense of self that set her apart from all her peers who got defined only in relation to their husbands and children.
As I look again at the well cut coat and expensive shoes of the lady at the cafe, I recollect the white and blue printed silk sarees that Nanimawas fond of, wearing them crisply tucked in, a cream shawl on her shoulders, a small handbag on her arms, setting out for “work”. Never mind that the work was sometimes to go and help out at her brother in law’s office, or sometimes to change two crowded buses and travel a couple of hours to reach a village, where she would talk to the women about education and smokeless chulhas. She would often stop by at our place, ringing our bell from below and smiling broadly as I peeped over the terrace ledge and told her how nice she was looking. Sometimes it would be to ask us if we needed anything, sometimes it would be just to drop some goodies she had brought. In the evening, at her little one room apartment, she would cook a simple but hearty meal of paranthas, which she would have sitting in front of her tiny TV. If the next day were a weekend, she would stock up on mangoes or other fruits, knowing that my sister or I would pay her a visit. We would spend our afternoon or evening there, often forsaking our air conditioned room to spend time with her; share our school stories as she listened eagerly, listen to her experiences and advise her sagely, eat up all the fruits and whatever else was available, sometimes just in silence and take a nap on the warmest of beds, and usually go for a walk in the evening, with an ice cream or peanuts at the end of it.
The thought of the peanuts suddenly makes me remember the yogurt covered peanuts I have in my bag, one of my many gluttonous weaknesses. But peanuts make me thirsty and I need to ask for some water. My friends say I must have been a camel in my earlier life, so rarely do I have water. I guess I got it from my mother, who’s the same. Was Nanima like that too?
As with everything else, she was fastidious about eating habits. Not that she insisted on elaborate traditional regiments, but she liked to have her three meals at predictable times, with a predictable level of nutrition involved. She could never understand, or appreciate, people who took food lightly. Not one to sermonize, she would instead take things into her own hands and drum up something simple, nutritious and usually delicious. Not that the kitchen was the center of her active life. She would wash clothes, make breakfast for the family, personally clean her own room, supervise the maids and generally look after wherever she would live. And find time for watching some tv and reading till she slept off with the glasses on her face and the light on. And if you asked her to come out for a movie or shopping, she would be ready in a matter of minutes. How she found that energy that would shame people half her age (and did), I never knew. A couple of times when I asked her, she just said “Jo karnahai so karna hai; aur kuch cheezen pasand hai”.
That simple response is a lesson to all of us armchair philosophers. These kids cycling on the square, do they know what that means? Or are they too dissolved in existential angst and endless debates about what they want versus what they need versus what’s the right thing to do? Nanima discovered early on that sometimes there’s no choice, you just need to deal with what life gives you and make the best of it. Whether it be moving at an early age from Pakistan to India, or living most of her life in stringent financial conditions or the self-absorbed unwitting neglect of her adult children and grandchildren. Or living in a disturbed household for seven years. When she finally left, determinedly shutting her ears to the crying voice of the child she loved the most, she maintained a calm that broke only when she sobbed her heart out for many days, alone. The same calm that she displayed as her siblings and children were struck by tragedy time after time, she alone standing like a pillar of strength, offering both love and a fortitude that tested the vagaries of destiny. You have no choice as you look on the faces of the dead, your loved ones, and retreat into a silence of fatalistic acceptance, yet invincible dignity.
But as I myself struggle to recover from an over exhausted mind and body, and see similar faces around me, I know that the secret to carrying on is not to accept that there’s no choice, but to believe that our choice is about us, and how we react to the world around.
In one of my last conversations with her, she spoke in her usual practical tone about whether it’s worth spending money on her neighborhood kitty considering that each round takes more than a year and she is not certain if she will survive the next one. As I responded vehemently that she is in good health and such statements only attract negative energy, she changed the subject and asked me about my upcoming vacation plans and then signed off with her customary “god bless”. A few weeks later, I returned from the vacation and spent a night with restless dreams about her, waking up with a resolve to speak with her. But she was gone, passed away the way she wanted to, quickly, painlessly and without fuss, next to her daughter.
The square is deserted by now, the chilly wind having dispersed the last of the brave souls. The sky is grey, the street lamps dispel weak light. And the lady at the table is gone. In the faint distance, someone calls out “Nanima, Nanima”, in an urgent, emphatic voice assured of the attention and affection of her response.
The voice is mine, so are the tears.
My fav topic - again!!!
(written in early Jan 2011)
Once again, like a child who refuses to learn his lesson, I am thinking about chemistry...or maybe obsessing is the right word!!
WTF WTF WTF.......that's all the reaction I have right now. How in the hell does the universe create this space and plan where two planets that had no absolutely no connection with each other suddenly end up colliding and creating this circle of positive energy that blows your mind away???!!! I repeat - wtf wtf wtf
Once again, like a child who refuses to learn his lesson, I am thinking about chemistry...or maybe obsessing is the right word!!
WTF WTF WTF.......that's all the reaction I have right now. How in the hell does the universe create this space and plan where two planets that had no absolutely no connection with each other suddenly end up colliding and creating this circle of positive energy that blows your mind away???!!! I repeat - wtf wtf wtf
Monday, May 16, 2011
Thoughts on the US...
We celebrate our diversity and the fact that we are a contrary of multiple realities, often contradictory to one another. And that we live across those realities and the ambiguity that comes with the territory. And it's easy to paint the Western world in one hue of grey, particularly the US, viewing it as a whole, forming opinions and delivering judgements as a single entity. Listen to a few conversations, specially over dinner or pub tables, and its easy to see this pattern emerge.
Not that 4 weeks spent in the US over 3 years makes me any kind of expert, but I am beginning to realise how wrong we are. It's an incredibly vast country, literally, and with more ethnic diversity that we can imagine. Both the geography and the ethnic inflow of people segments the entire country into so many tiny pieces that to even try and stitch them up together is a task of immense and complex proportions. Unlike India, at least they speak a common language (at least, most of them do) but the feeling that you move into a different country as you visit different parts is pretty similar to what we feel here. At a surface level, you see it being reflected in mannerisms, accents, clothes, expressions. Behaviors too change, especially the warmth factor towards immigrants and foreigners. Opinions and knowledge base also vary vastly, evident in the quality of conversations I heard in Chicago vs Atlanta vs San Francisco on the latest topic of the Bin Laden killing.
It's also extremely interesting to think about how this country was truly "built" and the enormous wealth generated, considering the size, complexity and the multiple moving parts. The ongoing debate on immigration reform and the current floods crisis, while very different topics, both give us a glimpse into some of that journey....the heavy inflow of immigration and the various uses it was put to as well as the conscious, deliberate planning that has gone into each town and all farmland.
And what did that journey imply for the individual today? Relatively higher freedom at a social level (which itself varies depending on whether you are in a small town in the mid west or a city on the east coast) is coupled with an array of rules and guidelines governing behavior on a day to day basis. Not everyone conforms to this obviously and that's where the interesting stories lie too.
The colors are more muted, the drama a little lesser, the development much more, the wealth much much more. But the tragi-comedy of the vibrant, expressive, mostly ambitious society of the US is more similar to India than we, or at least I, have thought so far.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Pause. Sink. Rewind. Move. Up.
Thats the routine, isn't it. After the whirlwind of the past few weeks, I get some time to myself. An unwelcome sms switches me off. I have made some attempts recently to re-invigorate myself, get some new blood into my life. Didn't really work. Now the past comes back. As its wont to do when the body is weary and the mind is weird. And I wonder whether it's really that sensible to stay at home, relax and watch a movie. Or shall I just go to some place that has people, lights, music; inject some alcohol, push the thoughts way and come back and collapse into bed. For yet another tomorrow. When I shall be drag myself up and move on. With a smile.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Anti social
I resisted Orkut for 2 years. Finally gave it just when it started to decline. Liked it reasonably well, used it to an extent. Started getting bored. Then they said "move to fb", you are so passe. I said no, I cant keep moving, I am not that interested in making so many "friend" anyway. Finally moved. The spectre of PR kept haunting me for several years. Many, including DB, insisted I should join, just for having fun. I mistook the word "fun". I joined two weeks and am hooked for now, it's like a bizarre twilight zone. I wonder when I will get bored...maybe in a couple of months. Sigh. What next guys?
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Deja vu or full circle?
Having just sobbed my heart out, I wonder if this is a repeat of what happened 3 years ago or has life come round to where it started, a sort of cosmic joke on me.
All I know is that I have to make a way of living with this pain for some time until it ebbs into an occasional ache. I just have to keep reminding myself that this is temporary....when I have suffered much, much more and managed to survive well, this is ok, manageable. I think.
I guess part of it is just ambiguity.
Sigh. Cant even go out and enjoy a good meal or get drunk. Have to eat papaya, remain alert and go through this.
All I know is that I have to make a way of living with this pain for some time until it ebbs into an occasional ache. I just have to keep reminding myself that this is temporary....when I have suffered much, much more and managed to survive well, this is ok, manageable. I think.
I guess part of it is just ambiguity.
Sigh. Cant even go out and enjoy a good meal or get drunk. Have to eat papaya, remain alert and go through this.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Where am I?
Its been more than 7 months since I last wrote here, the longest gap ever. Where am I??? It's not as if there hasn't been plenty to write about...if nothing else, the constant presence of change in my life provides many amusing, heart wrenching and irritating moments! So why not??
I dont know, to be honest. And instead of trying to figure out, I would rather devote my energy to re-starting this practice soon. As I figure that out, this is just a placeholder :) a reminder that I am going to be here soon, doing what most good bloggers do - hyperventilating and pontificating.
I dont know, to be honest. And instead of trying to figure out, I would rather devote my energy to re-starting this practice soon. As I figure that out, this is just a placeholder :) a reminder that I am going to be here soon, doing what most good bloggers do - hyperventilating and pontificating.
Monday, February 23, 2009
In continuation - Bobo at 18 months...
As I sit in my bedroom, I can hear the “mewing-like" noises Aarav is making outside. I can actually picture him doing so, crinkling up his button nose a bit and shutting half his eyes. The mewing noise is used for a variety of purposes, from animal sounds to car horns. Immediately after this, the expected “hoo” takes over, usually delivered with wide eyes and a finger pointing at either an object he seeks more explanation for or evidence of mischief he’s just conducted. In fact, though he’s mastered a smattering of words, communication between him and the world largely consists of such primitive sounds delivered with a wide range of tones and accompanied by an even-wider range of expressions. This communication is restricted to his “insider” gang though…for most of the world outside, he attempts to strike a more enigmatic figure – steadily walking (or pushing his toy car along) with a quiet determination to get somewhere, occasionally pausing to observe or pick up an object of interest, and greeting unsolicited companions with a cool stare and sometimes a shy smile before turning away and proceeding on his way. The contrast in personality with the baby we see giggling away at home is quite stark, especially when the giggles turn into fits of laughter at his mother’s antics , and he finally tumbles off the bed.
I have often been told that all babies are alike (and by implication, I shouldn’t get so excited by this little one’s antics). But there are times when we question that, and actually reject it – when he sees a baby or a dog, gets overcome by emotion and hugs you; when he starts dancing every time he hears music he likes, whether it be in a restaurant or the drawing room or a crowded engagement party; when he clearly observes what you are wearing and beams his appreciation sometimes; when he rejects everything sweet you give him and relishes onions and similar food items; when he resists any attempt at medical examinations and reacts with a ferocity that stuns the most experienced of doctors…
At such times, one wonders at the beauty of nature that created a full, unique specimen amongst billions of others. A specimen with his own specific looks and personality and behaviors and likes and dislikes. A specimen that easily gets used to being adored by every eye that lays eyes on it and yet in a way remains uncorrupted by it until a much-later stage. A 3 feet tall, one-and-a-half year old, 12 kilo heavy dynamo of a person who has the power to control all activity and emotion around him by just a flick of his finger or a lift of the eyebrow. Love, anger, irritation, humor, protectiveness, frustration, anxiety, calm – in a space of a day, Bobo’s companionship can take acquaint you with all these and more.
How will us willing slaves be treated in the future, I wonder? That remains to be seen. Right now, he’s tapping on the door, demanding the attention that’s rightfully is, along with the antics and the giggles.
I have often been told that all babies are alike (and by implication, I shouldn’t get so excited by this little one’s antics). But there are times when we question that, and actually reject it – when he sees a baby or a dog, gets overcome by emotion and hugs you; when he starts dancing every time he hears music he likes, whether it be in a restaurant or the drawing room or a crowded engagement party; when he clearly observes what you are wearing and beams his appreciation sometimes; when he rejects everything sweet you give him and relishes onions and similar food items; when he resists any attempt at medical examinations and reacts with a ferocity that stuns the most experienced of doctors…
At such times, one wonders at the beauty of nature that created a full, unique specimen amongst billions of others. A specimen with his own specific looks and personality and behaviors and likes and dislikes. A specimen that easily gets used to being adored by every eye that lays eyes on it and yet in a way remains uncorrupted by it until a much-later stage. A 3 feet tall, one-and-a-half year old, 12 kilo heavy dynamo of a person who has the power to control all activity and emotion around him by just a flick of his finger or a lift of the eyebrow. Love, anger, irritation, humor, protectiveness, frustration, anxiety, calm – in a space of a day, Bobo’s companionship can take acquaint you with all these and more.
How will us willing slaves be treated in the future, I wonder? That remains to be seen. Right now, he’s tapping on the door, demanding the attention that’s rightfully is, along with the antics and the giggles.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Inner tension
Suddenly, there's this tight knot in my stomach.
Not entirely unexpected though...there was several indications over the last few months that this was coming. Silences/arguments with DB; irritation with friends; discussions over Anjan's predicament; searching for houses and being price sensitive; repeated calculations on excel on how to squeeze the max out of my salary; Dolly's face, pinched and white due to pain...yes, there were many indications that this time was coming.
Now that it's here, it's here. I am not that unused to it anyway. And this time, the secret weapon in my arsenal is Aarav...declogs my arteries and reduces the speed of blood! Work has also gone into hectic mode. So as I deal with the terrible trio of health, finances, relationships, I keep myself busy and occupied. The impact shows on the hair on my pillow each morning, but that's ok, I can live with that.
Not entirely unexpected though...there was several indications over the last few months that this was coming. Silences/arguments with DB; irritation with friends; discussions over Anjan's predicament; searching for houses and being price sensitive; repeated calculations on excel on how to squeeze the max out of my salary; Dolly's face, pinched and white due to pain...yes, there were many indications that this time was coming.
Now that it's here, it's here. I am not that unused to it anyway. And this time, the secret weapon in my arsenal is Aarav...declogs my arteries and reduces the speed of blood! Work has also gone into hectic mode. So as I deal with the terrible trio of health, finances, relationships, I keep myself busy and occupied. The impact shows on the hair on my pillow each morning, but that's ok, I can live with that.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
2009 objectives
Having encouraged all and sundry in my business to create goal sheets, I thought it was high time I went past "focus areas..." and "resolutions" and created a clear set of goals for myself too. This is not a strategy document but a time-bound objectives sheet. It is also dynamic though I hope to only add, not delete. These are the explicit objectives and imply many implicit ones.
Work -Move into a new role that's more "happening" and hands on OR move into a new job that's high paying in preferably a different industry - during Sep to Dec
Growth - Continue teaching AND/OR start doing some freelance training - Jan onw
Finances -
Work -Move into a new role that's more "happening" and hands on OR move into a new job that's high paying in preferably a different industry - during Sep to Dec
Growth - Continue teaching AND/OR start doing some freelance training - Jan onw
Finances -
- Reduce quarterly average spending on shopping by at least 20% - Jan onw
- Make one more substantial investment amounting to at least Rs. 15000/month, either in property or MFs - by March 09
Health - Get myself in shape. Weight to be kept maintained at 72 kg and at least 12 visits of 30-40 min each to gym per month. - Jan onw
People -
- Focus on Unni, L, D. Regular interactions and take ownership for meeting at least once/fortnight (not being reactive) - Jan onw
- Take responsibility for Bobo pre-school arrangements etc. - Aug
- Complete clarity on direction w/DB. Be on the same page - Feb onw.
Ending the year...
60 kms away from Bangalore, next to an abandoned water reservoir, we pitched our camp at midnight. The night was lit only by the stars above and a torch we carried with us. We set up a tent, lay down the rug and our supplies. A few minutes later, we cut the birthday cake for DB and poured out our drinks. Surrounded by silence and peace, we laughed at silly jokes, sipped our drinks, listened to "jhanak jhanak payal baaje" on the laptop, ate chips-with-dip over candles and exclaimed at the 'surreality' of the experience. It was chilly but not unpleasantly so; it was quiet but not eerily so; it was dark but not scarily so. The company was friendly, but not overly so. It was far, but not too much; we spent quite some time there, but didn't overstay. We laughed, we thought, we felt, we expressed.
Perfect? It came close. Very close.
Perfect? It came close. Very close.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
The haves and have-nots and the final negation of the arguments
I dont have an expensive branded watch, a heavy-duty phone or iPhone, a snazzy TV or music system, a collection of art prints or a series of exotic holidays to my credit.
I have a good collection of clothes, though none from the top-league. I have a collection of jackets that I am happy with and I have a good set of books and movies which reflect my passion.
I dont have an apartment/house to my name and I continue to live in rented premises. I do have a plot of land which I am paying EMI on, but that's not tax friendly as it's a site loan.
I have done up my house well, even when it was small. I always get genuine compliments on my taste from people I trust.
I have not been in IT, where I could make money through onsite projects, or in Sales, where I could make money on commissions and incentives.
I do have a lovely job that I like and my career graph has been to my liking. I am also paid a fair amount as per the field I am in and work with a respected organization. I am also cognizant of where I came from - the kind of salaries we had earlier and how this was a dream. It's real now.
I have led an enjoyable life and never scrimped on going out - spending time with a series of many, lovely friends over several years in good eating and drinking holes.
I continue to have a couple of personal loans on my head but am able to manage expenses reasonably well on a month to month basis. On the basis of the reality a few years ago, I know this is progress.
I don't have a double-income family and probably wont either. That's a constraint on finance.
I do know that if I work harder (visiting faculty, trainer) and smarter (MF investments etc.), I can overcome that constraint to an extent.
And so the argument continues.
At the end of the day....I am happy when my boss tells me I have added value to him; I am sad when I feel I haven't provided enough for Mummy; I am happy when I spend time with Bobo; I am sad when I think about Dolly and what she is going to go through; I am happy when I receive a genuine smile from a loved one; I am sad when I think about the fact that I am balding.
This is what it boils down to.
I have a good collection of clothes, though none from the top-league. I have a collection of jackets that I am happy with and I have a good set of books and movies which reflect my passion.
I dont have an apartment/house to my name and I continue to live in rented premises. I do have a plot of land which I am paying EMI on, but that's not tax friendly as it's a site loan.
I have done up my house well, even when it was small. I always get genuine compliments on my taste from people I trust.
I have not been in IT, where I could make money through onsite projects, or in Sales, where I could make money on commissions and incentives.
I do have a lovely job that I like and my career graph has been to my liking. I am also paid a fair amount as per the field I am in and work with a respected organization. I am also cognizant of where I came from - the kind of salaries we had earlier and how this was a dream. It's real now.
I have led an enjoyable life and never scrimped on going out - spending time with a series of many, lovely friends over several years in good eating and drinking holes.
I continue to have a couple of personal loans on my head but am able to manage expenses reasonably well on a month to month basis. On the basis of the reality a few years ago, I know this is progress.
I don't have a double-income family and probably wont either. That's a constraint on finance.
I do know that if I work harder (visiting faculty, trainer) and smarter (MF investments etc.), I can overcome that constraint to an extent.
And so the argument continues.
At the end of the day....I am happy when my boss tells me I have added value to him; I am sad when I feel I haven't provided enough for Mummy; I am happy when I spend time with Bobo; I am sad when I think about Dolly and what she is going to go through; I am happy when I receive a genuine smile from a loved one; I am sad when I think about the fact that I am balding.
This is what it boils down to.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
"hi, long time, how have u been?"
As I look back, I realise that amongst the many many many words on the subject of personal relationships that I have expressed myself on - the connect, the pain, the madness, the love, the comfort, the companionship - the favorite topic is- chemistry! A useful, versatile, nice-sounding word.
Does its versatility extend to the long-distance, online connections? For me, someone who's not a veteran "onliner" but sufficiently networked, yes. The slightly electric feel of the first connection; the unconscious smile on seeing that name appear; the ears of the mind perking up at getting a message, clear or subliminal; the re-digestion and absorption of long conversations; the wondering and the wondering....it's all been there. In many forms...the had-fun-while-it-lasted types like Ankit or Rohan, the mad-online-damp-offline types like Vik, the partly-online-partly-offline types like Sri and sometimes, appropriately rarely, the can-this-be-something types like Am or Gar...
How many people feel this like I do? Are people of certain zodiac signs more sensitive to chemistry, or is it purely individual personality? Is chemistry an end by itself, or rather, can it be? If not followed by deeper physical or emotional interaction, does it keep taut like a wire or start fizzling? Is chemistry the ultimate altar, before which all kneel, including rooted prejudices and so-called moral barriers?
I dont know. I guess I will either think about and discover my thoughts on these questions over a period of time (I don't think the word "answers" can be applied here) or just let this topic lie in my subconscious, taken out and given a dusting for a once-over when someone like an Am comes back and says "hi, long time, where have u been?"
Does its versatility extend to the long-distance, online connections? For me, someone who's not a veteran "onliner" but sufficiently networked, yes. The slightly electric feel of the first connection; the unconscious smile on seeing that name appear; the ears of the mind perking up at getting a message, clear or subliminal; the re-digestion and absorption of long conversations; the wondering and the wondering....it's all been there. In many forms...the had-fun-while-it-lasted types like Ankit or Rohan, the mad-online-damp-offline types like Vik, the partly-online-partly-offline types like Sri and sometimes, appropriately rarely, the can-this-be-something types like Am or Gar...
How many people feel this like I do? Are people of certain zodiac signs more sensitive to chemistry, or is it purely individual personality? Is chemistry an end by itself, or rather, can it be? If not followed by deeper physical or emotional interaction, does it keep taut like a wire or start fizzling? Is chemistry the ultimate altar, before which all kneel, including rooted prejudices and so-called moral barriers?
I dont know. I guess I will either think about and discover my thoughts on these questions over a period of time (I don't think the word "answers" can be applied here) or just let this topic lie in my subconscious, taken out and given a dusting for a once-over when someone like an Am comes back and says "hi, long time, where have u been?"
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Prague first...
I would have liked to really record my thoughts and impressions as I spent time in these two cities; there was so much to see, absorb, think about, feel, sense in both the places, and mostly positive too! I don't know what stops me from doing so. It's partly the same ol' laziness that has prevented me from doing so much else....and partly, it's also the thought of the wannabe writers springing up behind every door nowdays! I am so apprehensive at being part of this "sea of mediocrity" (as Mr. Mundol used to often say!) that I now shy away from it.
Anyway, this post is about Prague and NY and what I did (in the tradition started by Ms. Katy) -
In Prague...
Anyway, this post is about Prague and NY and what I did (in the tradition started by Ms. Katy) -
In Prague...
- Bundled in cafe-owned blankets, or at least clothed in my own jackets, I spent a lot of time sitting in open-air cafes at various times in the evenings (never in the afternoons, I hate the sun), sipping tea or coffee (very good coffee!), the ever-faithful and loving book lying in my lap unread, looking at the stream of gorgeousness passing by (which I 'get' as compared to the consciousness).
- I did the best forearm exercise - take a metal object weighing approx. 150g in your right hand, lift the arm up, hold it there for a few minutes as you steady the hand, press a button with your forefinger and then bring your hand slowly down, bend your head to look at the output, repeat the raise-steady-click-lower routine a few more times until you are satisfied. Do this approximately 20 times a day with objects that provide you aesthetic pleasure (incredible range of architecture in the buildings) and you get the best of both worlds.
- I drank the best beer I have ever had (not that I am an expert or anything), mostly of the dark variety, in all the brands available. My favorite is the one I had with Rajan in the old town square - KRUŠOVICE (I googled it just now!). I also realised the legend is true - water IS more expensive than beer.
- I indulged my fat cells in food too. Ghoulash soup, huge chunks of sausage, unpronouncable-but-delicious dishes, huge soft sandwiches, bowls of yogurt with berries.
- I attended a couple of western classical concerts in old, beautiful churches. The lovely cliche was spoilt by the click-n-flash explosion generated by the tourists around me. I, in a very non-touristy fashion, did not carry a camera or a bag, sat alone and pretended not to notice anything. My imitation would have been spoilt if anyone had actually started a conversation with me about the music. All I could have said was that some of it sounded nice and some of it sounded familiar, and the conductor was very well dressed.
- I walked and walked and tested whether those expensive Geoxx shoes were really worth it. They were. I explored cobbled pathways (to find out that they lead to yet another shop selling "genuine Bohemian crystal"), retraced steps to look at building facades that struck me, revisited cafes and bars that I grew to like, went to multiple shops to find the "mera wala picture" for the bedroom wall, I climbed all the way up (and naturally all the way down) to the Prague castle grounds and basically went out walking whenever I was free.
- I visited a couple of old-fashioned g bars. I didnt know they existed. They had wooden walls, plastic tablecloths (right word?) and served food with drinks (a strict no-no in other bars). They also had friendlier people than the usual sada-hua variety. I guess age mellows them. I fit right in.
- I also had kadai chicken and naan on my first evening in Prague with a middle-aged, boring business lead who had nothing to say except office politics and who I don't particularly like. I put it down as a "work obligation" and will forever count it as one of my sacrifices.
- I also had a reasonably good time with Sid (though he's very very choon and a vegetarian and doesn't drink much and refused to be photographed even once). We visited a Brit g pub and gave polite smiles; we walked around at midnight looking for veg food that wasn't McD (I refused, period.); we ate Haagen Daaz ice cream on the pretty pretty St Charles bridge at a freezing midnight hour; we baited, caught and released a drunk German at 3 am; we exchanged numerous insults on our respective dressing sense; we climbed the Prague TV tower and looked out at views of the city.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Tools
Isn't it strange that over the years one gains so much capability in practically everything in life. but the basics - how do u deal with love/pain/depression/grief - still elude us. Not the most sparkling of original thoughts, I know, but relevant to what I am thinking/feeling right now.
I am getting into a low phase. The trigger was a 2 minute chat with a not-so-close friend, the (unintentional?) sharpness of whom took my breath away. But the overall "lowness" is probably a combination of many things. Physical downturn, general "cycle of life", Dolly's news, other worries about events coming up (people moving in/out).
I couldn't immerse myself in work. Nothing that interesting to immerse myself in, anyway. I ignored work and sank into a PG Wodehouse, armed with a chocolate. Didn't work. Chatted with a couple of close friends, felt slightly better but not much. Will now go to gym. Dont think that will help much, but will try. I think an evening out on movies is the best option. Will try and organize that. It will take the edge off.
I am getting into a low phase. The trigger was a 2 minute chat with a not-so-close friend, the (unintentional?) sharpness of whom took my breath away. But the overall "lowness" is probably a combination of many things. Physical downturn, general "cycle of life", Dolly's news, other worries about events coming up (people moving in/out).
I couldn't immerse myself in work. Nothing that interesting to immerse myself in, anyway. I ignored work and sank into a PG Wodehouse, armed with a chocolate. Didn't work. Chatted with a couple of close friends, felt slightly better but not much. Will now go to gym. Dont think that will help much, but will try. I think an evening out on movies is the best option. Will try and organize that. It will take the edge off.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Musings on an airplane
An elderly gentleman with his wife just passed my seat. He could barely walk, stooped and supported by his wife. I offered to help and she declined with a quiet smile. Another passenger in front of me was more sensible, he didn’t ask, he just took hold of the elderly man’s hand and guided him forward. The reason why this affects me more than normal is that I can picture daddy and mummy going through the same just a decade ago.
Coincidentally I happen to be watching a movie about a man who, at the age of 42, suddenly realizes his life is “boring”, that he’s not alive and proceeds to be brutally frank with his family and friends, brutal being the operative word. As of this moment, he’s gone to meet his father with whom he seems to have had a dysfunctional relationship.
I am not sure how the two are connected and don’t really care to articulate it either; I am not writing something to be published. What I do know is that both make me feel. A sense of regret, sadness…or maybe just pensiveness.
There’s so much pain in each of one of us. There’s so much pain in our loved ones. What’s “being alive” as opposed to be being just “tragic”? Why are we passive in our relationship with people? What’s this man thinking, that he’s left his wife and children in confusion and sadness, as he figures out his own self? What was I thinking, paying more attention to my own issues with daddy than to his excruciating physical (and, in hindsight, emotional) pain?
I have just returned from a 2 week trip to Prague and a week’s vacation in New York. At this moment, I am tired and a little unwell (not to mention bankrupt), but overall happy and cool. Tomorrow I could be, let’s change that to “will not be”, not. There will be pain. And confusion. And craziness. Physical discomfort. Embarrassments. To use an old-fashioned term, adversity.
Sometimes, even in the middle of a good time, it’s important to remember that. It’s the intellectual equivalent of making sure that you say your bedtime prayers regularly.
Coincidentally I happen to be watching a movie about a man who, at the age of 42, suddenly realizes his life is “boring”, that he’s not alive and proceeds to be brutally frank with his family and friends, brutal being the operative word. As of this moment, he’s gone to meet his father with whom he seems to have had a dysfunctional relationship.
I am not sure how the two are connected and don’t really care to articulate it either; I am not writing something to be published. What I do know is that both make me feel. A sense of regret, sadness…or maybe just pensiveness.
There’s so much pain in each of one of us. There’s so much pain in our loved ones. What’s “being alive” as opposed to be being just “tragic”? Why are we passive in our relationship with people? What’s this man thinking, that he’s left his wife and children in confusion and sadness, as he figures out his own self? What was I thinking, paying more attention to my own issues with daddy than to his excruciating physical (and, in hindsight, emotional) pain?
I have just returned from a 2 week trip to Prague and a week’s vacation in New York. At this moment, I am tired and a little unwell (not to mention bankrupt), but overall happy and cool. Tomorrow I could be, let’s change that to “will not be”, not. There will be pain. And confusion. And craziness. Physical discomfort. Embarrassments. To use an old-fashioned term, adversity.
Sometimes, even in the middle of a good time, it’s important to remember that. It’s the intellectual equivalent of making sure that you say your bedtime prayers regularly.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Time passes by...fast!
I spend a fair amount of time online so I wonder why I don't blog more...I guess writing requires dedicated, clear thought and I have a feeling that I have been less than adequately equipped with both dedication and clarity recently :) Anyway, the past few weeks have just flown by in a fuzzy sense of madness, emotion, celebration and exhaustion.
I started teaching in Aug (did I post about this yet?) and it's been an interesting experience so far. Like most much-anticipated activities, this hasn't turned out the way I expected it to be, but that's not to say it's any lesser....I am teaching a pre-determined university syllabus (filled with archaic topics!) of a subject I am not very fond of (compensation!) to a 40-strong group of not-very-strong-or-skilled students in an environment that can be described as strictly average. BUT I am making a difference, and that's what was the driver behind this anyway. My classes are on Friday and Saturday and necessitate me taking some hours off from work...but I make up for it in other ways. It will probably get a bit too hectic sometimes, esp. if there are weekend trip plans...but I know I will need to work around it, because this is something I want to do or at least try fully.
I also moved into the new place...seven days of pre and post-shifting activity that was exhausting and irritating, but necessary. I made long to-do lists and taped them on my wardrobe door, checking them off as they got done (some still lie unticked, like the bean bag that never came back!!). I made and re-made and re-made some more the budgets for the coming months...trying to balance the inflow and outflow (that seemed gigantic by comparison, oh lord, why do i earn so less!!). I displayed nothing short of superlative irritable/crotchety behavior towards everyone in general, but mostly towards DB, that has made impressions that will not wear off in a hurry. I also didn't indulge in much physical hard work and yet stopped exercising thanks to the hectic schedule, leading to more accumulation of inches and providing me with the belly of (alleged) prosperity. At the end of it all, I now reside in an apartment that's big, airy, clean, convenient, tastefully done up but doesn't have the coolness n character quotient of my previous one. Whatever. I am now sitting on a roomy balcony and typing away to glory in an atmosphere of near-silence, something that wasn't possible there. Of course, neither do I have leafy green trees to look at or a cool breeze to enjoy. So typical of life.
I had a wonderful short vacation, thanks to the symbolically significant first birthday of Bobo and my 30th birthday. That I consider the former to be a cause for celebration and the latter a cause for depression is a separate matter, but we all (Dhaka, Delhi n Mau) converged in Vedic Village for 3.5 days of revelry (as much of it as one can have with two toddlers!) on Aug 21. The start was rocky (bad rooms got allotted initially, Bobo was upset with our intrusive behavior) but things got sorted out and we actually managed to have a very decent amount of fun for the next few days (except Dolly n Mummy to an extent, as they had to contend with an ill-Bobo). Lavish rooms (villas actually, and I forgot to the take a snap of the bedroom-sized bathroom with a sunken bath and an open-air shower!), well appointed resort, loads n loads of greenery (with snakes provided with compliments of Mother Nature), cake from Flurys (the monetary cost of which, combined with the cost of Dolly's effort in getting in there, probably made one of the most expensive cakes ever consumed), champagne (drunk in normal water glasses, since the resort mgmt reneged at the last moment, bloody creeps!), constant flow of good food n drinks (and if the villas took 3 months off Anjan's annual salary, this took the bonus!), lazyboy/massage chairs (don't know what they are actually called) in each room, reasonable amount of independence to spend the days as you wished (faced with a grand total of 5 choices - sleep/ eat-drink/ swim/ spend-time-with-baby/ vegetate) and a heterogeneous group that managed to get along pretty well....all of it added up to pretty much the type of celebratory holiday we were aiming for! (marred by a highly uncomfortable and painful return trip for Dolly/Anjan/Mummy though)
So, well...that was the last big activity...came back and resumed life...a bit hectic (and a little frustrating) at work but have just completed a typical full weekend composed of classes (tiring, but nice), dentist (painful), shopping (a phone that's stylish - nice - and expensive - not nice), lunch (good but ended up giving me loosies), movie (wall e - very very cute n nice n thought provoking), another movie (rock on - really good) and a sunday that was lazy and beautiful :)
Another week is about to start...but there's stuff to look forward to and agonise about in the coming few weeks - my performance mgmt process....my possible prague trip (for which the visa still hasn't come!!)...dolly/mummy's arrival...so I have a feeling there's going to be another post probably around mid-Oct. Unless of course, I am struck by something provoking enough to make me log on and write again :)
I started teaching in Aug (did I post about this yet?) and it's been an interesting experience so far. Like most much-anticipated activities, this hasn't turned out the way I expected it to be, but that's not to say it's any lesser....I am teaching a pre-determined university syllabus (filled with archaic topics!) of a subject I am not very fond of (compensation!) to a 40-strong group of not-very-strong-or-skilled students in an environment that can be described as strictly average. BUT I am making a difference, and that's what was the driver behind this anyway. My classes are on Friday and Saturday and necessitate me taking some hours off from work...but I make up for it in other ways. It will probably get a bit too hectic sometimes, esp. if there are weekend trip plans...but I know I will need to work around it, because this is something I want to do or at least try fully.
I also moved into the new place...seven days of pre and post-shifting activity that was exhausting and irritating, but necessary. I made long to-do lists and taped them on my wardrobe door, checking them off as they got done (some still lie unticked, like the bean bag that never came back!!). I made and re-made and re-made some more the budgets for the coming months...trying to balance the inflow and outflow (that seemed gigantic by comparison, oh lord, why do i earn so less!!). I displayed nothing short of superlative irritable/crotchety behavior towards everyone in general, but mostly towards DB, that has made impressions that will not wear off in a hurry. I also didn't indulge in much physical hard work and yet stopped exercising thanks to the hectic schedule, leading to more accumulation of inches and providing me with the belly of (alleged) prosperity. At the end of it all, I now reside in an apartment that's big, airy, clean, convenient, tastefully done up but doesn't have the coolness n character quotient of my previous one. Whatever. I am now sitting on a roomy balcony and typing away to glory in an atmosphere of near-silence, something that wasn't possible there. Of course, neither do I have leafy green trees to look at or a cool breeze to enjoy. So typical of life.
I had a wonderful short vacation, thanks to the symbolically significant first birthday of Bobo and my 30th birthday. That I consider the former to be a cause for celebration and the latter a cause for depression is a separate matter, but we all (Dhaka, Delhi n Mau) converged in Vedic Village for 3.5 days of revelry (as much of it as one can have with two toddlers!) on Aug 21. The start was rocky (bad rooms got allotted initially, Bobo was upset with our intrusive behavior) but things got sorted out and we actually managed to have a very decent amount of fun for the next few days (except Dolly n Mummy to an extent, as they had to contend with an ill-Bobo). Lavish rooms (villas actually, and I forgot to the take a snap of the bedroom-sized bathroom with a sunken bath and an open-air shower!), well appointed resort, loads n loads of greenery (with snakes provided with compliments of Mother Nature), cake from Flurys (the monetary cost of which, combined with the cost of Dolly's effort in getting in there, probably made one of the most expensive cakes ever consumed), champagne (drunk in normal water glasses, since the resort mgmt reneged at the last moment, bloody creeps!), constant flow of good food n drinks (and if the villas took 3 months off Anjan's annual salary, this took the bonus!), lazyboy/massage chairs (don't know what they are actually called) in each room, reasonable amount of independence to spend the days as you wished (faced with a grand total of 5 choices - sleep/ eat-drink/ swim/ spend-time-with-baby/ vegetate) and a heterogeneous group that managed to get along pretty well....all of it added up to pretty much the type of celebratory holiday we were aiming for! (marred by a highly uncomfortable and painful return trip for Dolly/Anjan/Mummy though)
So, well...that was the last big activity...came back and resumed life...a bit hectic (and a little frustrating) at work but have just completed a typical full weekend composed of classes (tiring, but nice), dentist (painful), shopping (a phone that's stylish - nice - and expensive - not nice), lunch (good but ended up giving me loosies), movie (wall e - very very cute n nice n thought provoking), another movie (rock on - really good) and a sunday that was lazy and beautiful :)
Another week is about to start...but there's stuff to look forward to and agonise about in the coming few weeks - my performance mgmt process....my possible prague trip (for which the visa still hasn't come!!)...dolly/mummy's arrival...so I have a feeling there's going to be another post probably around mid-Oct. Unless of course, I am struck by something provoking enough to make me log on and write again :)
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
To-do list for the next 4 months
> Move house (already in progress, to be done in Aug)
> Start going as guest/visiting faculty for BBA/MBA classes somewhere (effort started....fingers crossed)
> Instal an SIP (I actually know what this means. I also know the rates/sq feet for flats in different parts of the city. God help me....soon I will be talking about engines of cars and tax deduction policies. Sigh)
> Get sanity back into my life
> Start going as guest/visiting faculty for BBA/MBA classes somewhere (effort started....fingers crossed)
> Instal an SIP (I actually know what this means. I also know the rates/sq feet for flats in different parts of the city. God help me....soon I will be talking about engines of cars and tax deduction policies. Sigh)
> Get sanity back into my life
Monday, July 07, 2008
Less than myself
I have been meaning to sit down and blog for several days now. The trigger each day is different.
A few days ago I returned from my Hyd trip, and what an amazing break it was. D and I did exactly what we love to do - a road trip and many movies (on separate days of course!). I do so want to record the details of those days...the long drives on mostly good roads, the monuments and ruins with interesting histories, the villages and the intermingling of cultures and the eager children who would run after us and show us around, the usually bad food punctuated by surprising authentic Punjabi and Rajasthani meals, the movie marathon, the laziness...all of it.
And then, in direct contrast, there's L. A sudden absence in my life, future unknown. I want to explore my reaction to this - the thoughts and the emotions and the roots of that emotion. I want to explore the issue as well as the trigger and figure out if I can make sense.
The thought of the near future occupies my days - the prospective travel, the shifting, the purchases, the expenses, the possibilities, the risks, the settling down....how am I going to pull this all together?? I want to think that through.
If my future occupies my day thoughts, the sub conscious is most certainly reserved for family. I know the pressure and near-depression that Dolly's going through; I know the sense of pressure & frustration that Anjan would be feeling; I know how helpless and sad Mummy would be. All of us want the same thing; we also know that the right things happen at the right time and so we should not get down...yet it still rankles, the uncertainty irritates and upsets and in the meanwhile, you keep calculating the days/weeks until your next meeting.
In the meanwhile, work goes from 0 to 0.5 in the indifference index. Things hang in limbo...there's a little more clarity but not much action. I am not getting what I wanted from this role...yet am unable to give it up because of what it has given. How silly is that...and how contradictory to my normal style of functioning.
And that, of course, brings me to that eternal question - have I compromised on myself? Have I traded in for someone lesser? Or have I just been fooling others all this while? This me - the irritable, snappy me - is it really me???
What's cause, what's effect? What role does DB play here? Is he the victim of my troubled soul or a contributor to it or probably both? Even if both, is it his fault? Unintentionally, yes. Intentionally, no. So, by the logic of my usually just and controllable mind, he shouldn't be at the receiving end. But he is. And that hurts me as much as it does him.
So well...these are the things that flow through the mind as I eat, sleep, gym, work, drive etc. etc. The only time I am a little at peace is when I am absorbed in a good book or movie - what a blessing they are!
Ideally this blog should have been a full fledged exploration...this listing is something I do daily in my mind, so it's not really helpful. But maybe someday later, it will remind me of myself in a weak moment, a mirror to a point in time when I felt less than myself.
A few days ago I returned from my Hyd trip, and what an amazing break it was. D and I did exactly what we love to do - a road trip and many movies (on separate days of course!). I do so want to record the details of those days...the long drives on mostly good roads, the monuments and ruins with interesting histories, the villages and the intermingling of cultures and the eager children who would run after us and show us around, the usually bad food punctuated by surprising authentic Punjabi and Rajasthani meals, the movie marathon, the laziness...all of it.
And then, in direct contrast, there's L. A sudden absence in my life, future unknown. I want to explore my reaction to this - the thoughts and the emotions and the roots of that emotion. I want to explore the issue as well as the trigger and figure out if I can make sense.
The thought of the near future occupies my days - the prospective travel, the shifting, the purchases, the expenses, the possibilities, the risks, the settling down....how am I going to pull this all together?? I want to think that through.
If my future occupies my day thoughts, the sub conscious is most certainly reserved for family. I know the pressure and near-depression that Dolly's going through; I know the sense of pressure & frustration that Anjan would be feeling; I know how helpless and sad Mummy would be. All of us want the same thing; we also know that the right things happen at the right time and so we should not get down...yet it still rankles, the uncertainty irritates and upsets and in the meanwhile, you keep calculating the days/weeks until your next meeting.
In the meanwhile, work goes from 0 to 0.5 in the indifference index. Things hang in limbo...there's a little more clarity but not much action. I am not getting what I wanted from this role...yet am unable to give it up because of what it has given. How silly is that...and how contradictory to my normal style of functioning.
And that, of course, brings me to that eternal question - have I compromised on myself? Have I traded in for someone lesser? Or have I just been fooling others all this while? This me - the irritable, snappy me - is it really me???
What's cause, what's effect? What role does DB play here? Is he the victim of my troubled soul or a contributor to it or probably both? Even if both, is it his fault? Unintentionally, yes. Intentionally, no. So, by the logic of my usually just and controllable mind, he shouldn't be at the receiving end. But he is. And that hurts me as much as it does him.
So well...these are the things that flow through the mind as I eat, sleep, gym, work, drive etc. etc. The only time I am a little at peace is when I am absorbed in a good book or movie - what a blessing they are!
Ideally this blog should have been a full fledged exploration...this listing is something I do daily in my mind, so it's not really helpful. But maybe someday later, it will remind me of myself in a weak moment, a mirror to a point in time when I felt less than myself.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Pouts and a slap
Disgruntled with work, disappointed with myself, upset with a best friend, irritable with my partner...this is certainly a new kind of low for me.
It's not as if I remain perpetually pouting. Today I went out for shopping and lunch with Smita and had a nice time. In the evening will meet Sonali for dinner and share some gossip over fine. I am also exercising regularly and hope to soon start reducing. And there's this thriller that I am reading that has me absolutely engrossed.....so anyway, daily life goes on.
But somewhere, I know that there are some things intrinsically wrong. I am not turned on by work nowdays; it keeps me occupied but my mindspace is empty. I am disgusted with the way I have dealt with the quality of life I have been afforded thanks to my role in the past 9 months. Yes, I got 3 months family team which was great. But what about the teaching? the social work? Or even gymming? And money??? 7 years into my career I dont have an investment plan and I have finally bought a miserable piece of land, the EMI for which doesn't even give me tax benefits. If I lose my job tomorrow, I will be on the streets. If I have an accident, I will have to starve.
I am not being overdramatic, just harsh. It's high time I was a little harsh with myself, looked myself carefully in the mirror and pointed a rude finger "Buddy, what the fuck is happening?".
It's usually my closest friends who act as this mirror to me. Just spending time with them is my reality check. One best friend is in US, one in Hyd, neither are the types who I can companionably chat or talk with long distance about inconsequential stuff. The third is here and has very little time and is now wrapped in some silly issues with himself that are now starting to get me and finally made me lose my temper (which I am not proud of, btw, and I DID say sorry, but didn't get a response...and anyway, that's another story)
So it's me. I have to clean myself up. And I will do so. I will update this blog in 2 months and take another cold, hard look at myself. Let's see.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Missing baby A
So many expressions of his flit through my mind in any idle moment…the frenzied movements and happy noise when he knows he’s about to go out; the sleepy monotone with the half-lidded eyes as he drifts to sleep on the swing; the determined playfulness as he would climb up on me to slap me around and wake me up in the morning; the false joviality and crinkling of eyes at certain words and expressions; the angry battering of hands when he’s denied the route he wants to go in; the puzzled-yet-determined look when a particular object of interest is refused to him; the intent exploration of usefulness of toys and cameras and cars on the street; the sheer glee when he witnessed his and our faces in the mirrors.
Unfortunately the bad times accompany the good ones. I don’t think I will ever, ever forget those moments in the hospital and his expressions that day, which moved from angry betrayal to pain to resignation. I don’t know which one hurt us more. I know we all died a little that day.
Now I can just imagine what he’s feeling. Dolly just told me that he’s been crying on and off for the past couple of days. There used to be a particular hanging pot that he was extremely fond of and I would (in my key responsibility as taxi driver) take him there to gaze up in wonder (even though he would be seeing it for the umpteenth time), watch him as he switched his glances between the pot, me and the revolving fan and sometimes even smile in glee, doing his enthusiastic “whoo, hoo” rumble. Now he doesn’t. Dolly takes him there, he looks at her, and then turns away. They try to keep him distracted and happy. He’s a baby after all, and he becomes ok in a few minutes.
So I thank god for this time I spent. There was stress, yes; and sadness too. But a lot of happiness as well. I am very very glad it worked out.
So life goes on. A month of love. Another few months of separation. He got introduced to this cycle too early. We are used to it.
Unfortunately the bad times accompany the good ones. I don’t think I will ever, ever forget those moments in the hospital and his expressions that day, which moved from angry betrayal to pain to resignation. I don’t know which one hurt us more. I know we all died a little that day.
Now I can just imagine what he’s feeling. Dolly just told me that he’s been crying on and off for the past couple of days. There used to be a particular hanging pot that he was extremely fond of and I would (in my key responsibility as taxi driver) take him there to gaze up in wonder (even though he would be seeing it for the umpteenth time), watch him as he switched his glances between the pot, me and the revolving fan and sometimes even smile in glee, doing his enthusiastic “whoo, hoo” rumble. Now he doesn’t. Dolly takes him there, he looks at her, and then turns away. They try to keep him distracted and happy. He’s a baby after all, and he becomes ok in a few minutes.
So I thank god for this time I spent. There was stress, yes; and sadness too. But a lot of happiness as well. I am very very glad it worked out.
So life goes on. A month of love. Another few months of separation. He got introduced to this cycle too early. We are used to it.
The voices in my head make me cry
Is it a plane? Is it an alien? No! It’s Superman!
(At least that’s how I think it went)
Ok. I am nuts. Or nearly there. The flip flop of my emotions have done me in. The sense that I have just revisited my 30 years (not 30 yet!!) in the past couple of months has sapped my mind of coherent thought. I sit in the extremely crowded and noisy departure hall of Cal airport feeling a little like the Alice in Wonderland characters who have plenty to say but never make sense.
Bobo’s voice reverberates in my ears, going “hoo hoo hoo…” endlessly, pushing me with his body language (not to mention will) in every direction he wants to go. Mummy’s eyes are right in front of me, often tired, always loving, never complaining. Dolly is jumping, coaxing her son to laugh and giggle, and then he turns towards me again. “Hoo hoo hoo…”….”show me the mirror, take me outside…” and I feel like jumping up right now, holding my arms out like a taxi driver opens the door to eagerly awaiting passengers. Except that I won’t charge. At least not in cash. I want that smile, the happy eyes. Anjan sits smiling placidly, until his wife brings him back to reality with a reminder or a warning. He is tired too. And sleepy. But he is game for suggestions. And Bobo has plenty. He would like a quick bite for starters, and it could be even be his Mom’s shoulder….
And so it goes on. An endless replay of scenes in my mind, in full color and with Dolby sound. I can even patch the scenes together to create a full – fledged movie. Though it may appeal to only very esoteric European audiences who will take the khichdi I will serve as an output of eclectic imagination. Because I will serve a khichdi. The format will be very Hindi-filmy-family. Smiles, a good natured baby, good clothes, good food, well decorated house. The emotions will be very Hollywoodish and simple – tension, love, anger, strain, sadness. The pattern is what will make it European – I start with tension…move to relief…then affection…and love…and then worries….and then sadness….and then some more love…then some feel-good positivism…then strain…some silence…love again…and then sadness. How can any good movie start with tension and end with sadness? I certainly won’t watch it.
The last coherent thought I had when this movie was starting was the one that reminded me (for the umpteenth time) how love is the biggest cause of sadness in the world. I was incredibly tense about Mummy’s opn and the impact it would have on her. Other high points of the trip were of a similar nature – blinking back tears at Bobo’s heartrending screams (and pleading eyes) when they took his blood for testing. Assuring Dolly fervently that the future will work out all right (and inwardly hoping and hoping and hoping that it will be so, because this lovely family just doesn’t deserve any more shit). And finally, plonking one last kiss on the baby’s cheek, feeling his fingers grip my shoulder, hugging them to somehow convey the immensity of what I feel, the tears that I can’t shed.
I just forgot my cell phone where I was sitting; that’s something I don’t do often. I went back after ten minutes and found it there, thank God. But it’s kind of woken me up a little. The rush of travel activity; the hilarious book; the browsing of people’s faces – this self prescription of Prozac is not so effective any more. The words, the sounds, the faces, the hands…the bloody fucking awful real mad soothing loving terrible feeling – it’s all there. Sharp.
(At least that’s how I think it went)
Ok. I am nuts. Or nearly there. The flip flop of my emotions have done me in. The sense that I have just revisited my 30 years (not 30 yet!!) in the past couple of months has sapped my mind of coherent thought. I sit in the extremely crowded and noisy departure hall of Cal airport feeling a little like the Alice in Wonderland characters who have plenty to say but never make sense.
Bobo’s voice reverberates in my ears, going “hoo hoo hoo…” endlessly, pushing me with his body language (not to mention will) in every direction he wants to go. Mummy’s eyes are right in front of me, often tired, always loving, never complaining. Dolly is jumping, coaxing her son to laugh and giggle, and then he turns towards me again. “Hoo hoo hoo…”….”show me the mirror, take me outside…” and I feel like jumping up right now, holding my arms out like a taxi driver opens the door to eagerly awaiting passengers. Except that I won’t charge. At least not in cash. I want that smile, the happy eyes. Anjan sits smiling placidly, until his wife brings him back to reality with a reminder or a warning. He is tired too. And sleepy. But he is game for suggestions. And Bobo has plenty. He would like a quick bite for starters, and it could be even be his Mom’s shoulder….
And so it goes on. An endless replay of scenes in my mind, in full color and with Dolby sound. I can even patch the scenes together to create a full – fledged movie. Though it may appeal to only very esoteric European audiences who will take the khichdi I will serve as an output of eclectic imagination. Because I will serve a khichdi. The format will be very Hindi-filmy-family. Smiles, a good natured baby, good clothes, good food, well decorated house. The emotions will be very Hollywoodish and simple – tension, love, anger, strain, sadness. The pattern is what will make it European – I start with tension…move to relief…then affection…and love…and then worries….and then sadness….and then some more love…then some feel-good positivism…then strain…some silence…love again…and then sadness. How can any good movie start with tension and end with sadness? I certainly won’t watch it.
The last coherent thought I had when this movie was starting was the one that reminded me (for the umpteenth time) how love is the biggest cause of sadness in the world. I was incredibly tense about Mummy’s opn and the impact it would have on her. Other high points of the trip were of a similar nature – blinking back tears at Bobo’s heartrending screams (and pleading eyes) when they took his blood for testing. Assuring Dolly fervently that the future will work out all right (and inwardly hoping and hoping and hoping that it will be so, because this lovely family just doesn’t deserve any more shit). And finally, plonking one last kiss on the baby’s cheek, feeling his fingers grip my shoulder, hugging them to somehow convey the immensity of what I feel, the tears that I can’t shed.
I just forgot my cell phone where I was sitting; that’s something I don’t do often. I went back after ten minutes and found it there, thank God. But it’s kind of woken me up a little. The rush of travel activity; the hilarious book; the browsing of people’s faces – this self prescription of Prozac is not so effective any more. The words, the sounds, the faces, the hands…the bloody fucking awful real mad soothing loving terrible feeling – it’s all there. Sharp.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
two weeks ago
Two weeks ago, I had a perfect day. DB and I were in Ooty and it was an Ooty different from anytime I had experienced before.
We awoke to a rain-splashed morning in our room – an old-fashioned one with large expanses of wooden flooring, an attached dressing room, an elegant bathroom, and a large fireplace with 2 well-cushioned chairs. I occupied one of them for the early part of the morning – sipping cups of tea, looking out of the open door into the green and wet world outside, listening to nothing but the insistent spatter of the rain (and the restless prowling of DB!), occasionally reading a page or two of the murder mystery that lay on my lap. We finally got around to going for breakfast in the wood-paneled dining room – a buffet of savories that I enjoyed to the fullest, getting up only when I knew that no more was possible! Letting ourselves get wet, we then traversed the hotel property, indulging in mild physical activity - Foos-ball, a game I was introduced to now, was an entertaining one, though its entertainment value was slightly dimmed by the fact that I never won J I was cheered up by the badminton later, where, though I certainly didn’t play like I used to, I was nevertheless better than the one I was playing against! The action naturally flowed into an afternoon of calm and indulgence, DB getting a massage done and me….well, me getting back to the same routine of tea w/book looking at a view in silence. A silence that helped me hear the voices within, the ones that connect me to myself, reminding me of what I value and what I have, answering some of the basic issues that trouble my mind, posing questions that will direct the flow of my life in the coming months, making me look at myself as I really am, and accepting it gracefully, without regret or ambition.
It had been a quiet day so far and we were now ready for some noise. A late lunch behind us and the rain showing signs of rest, we decided to venture out. First stop – a bee museum located next door. Unfortunately the bees couldn’t be disturbed but we did do our bit of shopping for soaps, balms, candles etc. made of honey and wax. We then moved to the mother lode – the lake. A few moments “on the waterfront”, admiring the views of nature and criticizing the ones provided by humans (especially the clothes!). Had hot bhajjis and a coffee, bought some chocolates (and a face pack!), got disappointed by the non-functional toy train, browsed through the so-called Tibetan market and finally got out of there. A nice drive led us to Fernhill Palace, a hotel (ironically) that symbolizes some of the happiest times our family has ever had. The main building was still under renovation and we went to the new hotel built in the outhouses. And I finally had my dream realized – we walked through the covering of pine trees, the green shadows against the background of misty white, taking snaps, talking about the inconsequential and leaving the most important unsaid, but understood. The walk continued through the rest of the property, surrounded by clouds, catching glimpses of the sprawling valley of terraced farms, the roar of the trucks far below us penetrating and reminding us of widespread human existence. Still enthusiastic, we then went back to the typical tourist trail and headed out to the mecca of humanity in Ooty – the Botanical Gardens. It was as expected – a mélange of humanity of all shapes/sizes/colors/aesthetic tastes, against some very pretty backdrops of green. DB hopped around, dragging me with him, exploring nooks and corners that left a lot to be desired. We did see some interesting trees (one with branches that seemed to grow downward, another with roots emerging from the ground in a network of nerves), laughed at the typical signage that made distorted use of English, searched for the missing “Dil” tree that had presumably been knocked down and finally, having had enough of noise for the day, retreated into the comfortable, quiet elegance of our room.
Things were beginning to slow down. I was calm, but there were many emotions that had flowed through me during the day, leaving me energized, yet relaxed - an unusual combination. Thoughts merged into a pleasant haze as we sipped Golconda Ruby in front of the television, making desultory conversation about people on TV, and people in our lives. A cold walk to an indifferent dinner, a colder walk back, and then a fire is lit in our room. I switch off the lights and somehow, we don’t talk, letting the crackle of the fire and the sound of the rain do the talking. I occasionally put in more sticks, not heeding his warnings about the supposed dangers of doing so. We slumber in the large bed, I read a few more pages about Ms. Marple’s shrewdness. Slowly, peacefully, in that large room with the wooden flooring, we fall asleep. In an Ooty different from anytime I had experienced before.
We awoke to a rain-splashed morning in our room – an old-fashioned one with large expanses of wooden flooring, an attached dressing room, an elegant bathroom, and a large fireplace with 2 well-cushioned chairs. I occupied one of them for the early part of the morning – sipping cups of tea, looking out of the open door into the green and wet world outside, listening to nothing but the insistent spatter of the rain (and the restless prowling of DB!), occasionally reading a page or two of the murder mystery that lay on my lap. We finally got around to going for breakfast in the wood-paneled dining room – a buffet of savories that I enjoyed to the fullest, getting up only when I knew that no more was possible! Letting ourselves get wet, we then traversed the hotel property, indulging in mild physical activity - Foos-ball, a game I was introduced to now, was an entertaining one, though its entertainment value was slightly dimmed by the fact that I never won J I was cheered up by the badminton later, where, though I certainly didn’t play like I used to, I was nevertheless better than the one I was playing against! The action naturally flowed into an afternoon of calm and indulgence, DB getting a massage done and me….well, me getting back to the same routine of tea w/book looking at a view in silence. A silence that helped me hear the voices within, the ones that connect me to myself, reminding me of what I value and what I have, answering some of the basic issues that trouble my mind, posing questions that will direct the flow of my life in the coming months, making me look at myself as I really am, and accepting it gracefully, without regret or ambition.
It had been a quiet day so far and we were now ready for some noise. A late lunch behind us and the rain showing signs of rest, we decided to venture out. First stop – a bee museum located next door. Unfortunately the bees couldn’t be disturbed but we did do our bit of shopping for soaps, balms, candles etc. made of honey and wax. We then moved to the mother lode – the lake. A few moments “on the waterfront”, admiring the views of nature and criticizing the ones provided by humans (especially the clothes!). Had hot bhajjis and a coffee, bought some chocolates (and a face pack!), got disappointed by the non-functional toy train, browsed through the so-called Tibetan market and finally got out of there. A nice drive led us to Fernhill Palace, a hotel (ironically) that symbolizes some of the happiest times our family has ever had. The main building was still under renovation and we went to the new hotel built in the outhouses. And I finally had my dream realized – we walked through the covering of pine trees, the green shadows against the background of misty white, taking snaps, talking about the inconsequential and leaving the most important unsaid, but understood. The walk continued through the rest of the property, surrounded by clouds, catching glimpses of the sprawling valley of terraced farms, the roar of the trucks far below us penetrating and reminding us of widespread human existence. Still enthusiastic, we then went back to the typical tourist trail and headed out to the mecca of humanity in Ooty – the Botanical Gardens. It was as expected – a mélange of humanity of all shapes/sizes/colors/aesthetic tastes, against some very pretty backdrops of green. DB hopped around, dragging me with him, exploring nooks and corners that left a lot to be desired. We did see some interesting trees (one with branches that seemed to grow downward, another with roots emerging from the ground in a network of nerves), laughed at the typical signage that made distorted use of English, searched for the missing “Dil” tree that had presumably been knocked down and finally, having had enough of noise for the day, retreated into the comfortable, quiet elegance of our room.
Things were beginning to slow down. I was calm, but there were many emotions that had flowed through me during the day, leaving me energized, yet relaxed - an unusual combination. Thoughts merged into a pleasant haze as we sipped Golconda Ruby in front of the television, making desultory conversation about people on TV, and people in our lives. A cold walk to an indifferent dinner, a colder walk back, and then a fire is lit in our room. I switch off the lights and somehow, we don’t talk, letting the crackle of the fire and the sound of the rain do the talking. I occasionally put in more sticks, not heeding his warnings about the supposed dangers of doing so. We slumber in the large bed, I read a few more pages about Ms. Marple’s shrewdness. Slowly, peacefully, in that large room with the wooden flooring, we fall asleep. In an Ooty different from anytime I had experienced before.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Negative energy
It started early this year. Flickers of irritation, fueled by unwelcome insights; creeping sense of discontentment, pushed away with disbelieving hands. A refusal to make resolutions, simply because of the realization that I still had baggage from the previous two years. All this simmered under the surface...till a few weeks ago, when it exploded into full fledged emotion.
Anger, at myself. Irritation, with people. Dislike, of my environment. Dissatisfaction, with the returns.
At the face of it, I could call this a "phase" and think of practical ways to get beyond it, like an unpleasant terrain. But...this is something deeper. This is one of those times, which are going to determine the course of my next couple of years. Which is why I am not fighting it too much. There's a lot of energy floating right now, and its natural that some of it would turn negative, as it is focuses my "switched on" mind on the lost potential, unrealised wishes, repressed disappointments, unexpressed envy, harsh realities and so on.
But I am hopeful that my mind will be reasonable the way its always been in such negative situations and remind me that these things, after all, are a part and parcel of everyone's life. Thus bringing out a different facet to this energy - a stronger will, a clearer purpose and greater strength to deal with the significant trials that I know lie before me this year.
It's not going to be easy though. Moving in a positive mode. It's as if I took off last year - in a state of enthusiasm and dizzy excitement - and now I am unsure of what direction to take. All around me I see people moving in purposeful directions, not always happy, but then happiness is usually an accident. What one controls and can achieve is control, a moral compass, a sense of doing what's right, a feeling of being at peace with oneself. It's that what I miss right now and probably that's why other, more material benchmarks of life, pinch me more. Its quite ironical actually!! I am actually going through what I believe most other people go through most of the time (and what I always believed I wouldn't be so prone to!). So again - this is like a grounding. And that's an interesting word - does it imply I was flying too high? Or too rashly? Or too aimlessly? Or too carelessly? I dont know, and I dont think its that relevant.
What's important is that I end this state of mind - this anger, dissatisfaction, irritation, dislike. I slowly let the cacophony of shouts and whispers that haunt me daily nowdays melt into a murmur and finally get silenced; allowing myself to listen to my core, that tells me what to do, what I can do. That allows me to smile, and plan, and have fun, and act, and love, and take love, and achieve, and create, and focus - all at the same time.
Again.
Anger, at myself. Irritation, with people. Dislike, of my environment. Dissatisfaction, with the returns.
At the face of it, I could call this a "phase" and think of practical ways to get beyond it, like an unpleasant terrain. But...this is something deeper. This is one of those times, which are going to determine the course of my next couple of years. Which is why I am not fighting it too much. There's a lot of energy floating right now, and its natural that some of it would turn negative, as it is focuses my "switched on" mind on the lost potential, unrealised wishes, repressed disappointments, unexpressed envy, harsh realities and so on.
But I am hopeful that my mind will be reasonable the way its always been in such negative situations and remind me that these things, after all, are a part and parcel of everyone's life. Thus bringing out a different facet to this energy - a stronger will, a clearer purpose and greater strength to deal with the significant trials that I know lie before me this year.
It's not going to be easy though. Moving in a positive mode. It's as if I took off last year - in a state of enthusiasm and dizzy excitement - and now I am unsure of what direction to take. All around me I see people moving in purposeful directions, not always happy, but then happiness is usually an accident. What one controls and can achieve is control, a moral compass, a sense of doing what's right, a feeling of being at peace with oneself. It's that what I miss right now and probably that's why other, more material benchmarks of life, pinch me more. Its quite ironical actually!! I am actually going through what I believe most other people go through most of the time (and what I always believed I wouldn't be so prone to!). So again - this is like a grounding. And that's an interesting word - does it imply I was flying too high? Or too rashly? Or too aimlessly? Or too carelessly? I dont know, and I dont think its that relevant.
What's important is that I end this state of mind - this anger, dissatisfaction, irritation, dislike. I slowly let the cacophony of shouts and whispers that haunt me daily nowdays melt into a murmur and finally get silenced; allowing myself to listen to my core, that tells me what to do, what I can do. That allows me to smile, and plan, and have fun, and act, and love, and take love, and achieve, and create, and focus - all at the same time.
Again.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Barkha n thoughts n trends...
Rediscovering likes and habits of previous years seems to becoming a trend now. First it was the trips...then the "spending time with close friends"...and now its thought provoking encounters/conversations.
First it was Shk. For all his irritating habits and conversation, he has a knack of asking me questions or delivering insights that leave me questioning established thoughts and impressions. Part of it is due to my vulnerability with him (which I think I hide well) and partly due to his credibility - because, despite the aforementioned irritants, he is the most intelligent person I know. And an intelligence that has also translated into material success (though he doesn't agree), which makes it more credible. This time it was about relationships and I how I view them. He was particularly interested in knowing more about DB, and I realised how guarded and cautious I am in my responses. And that's with such a close friend! I keep saying that I am pretty open but I think when it comes to really private and important things, I am not that open. Even someone like a Shk has to make an effort.
Completely opposite was Barkha Dutt as the key note speaker at our IWD event yesterday. Her narrative of the role that gender has played in her worklife was warm, absorbing and intensely personal...I wonder if I can ever stand up and be so candid about my experiences, both positive and unsavory in a larger audience? Maybe I can, if the purpose behind the candidness is to talk about an issue. In fact, I have been, come to think of it. Anyway, contrary to the image that she seems to have developed, her speech and then her responses during Q&A and the panel discussion were sensible, balanced and nuanced. A lot of it resonated with me and this is what I enjoy the most - when someone is able to intelligently articulate and express something that I had felt. Its quite rare though :(
Some thoughts and viewpoints that struck a chord -
First it was Shk. For all his irritating habits and conversation, he has a knack of asking me questions or delivering insights that leave me questioning established thoughts and impressions. Part of it is due to my vulnerability with him (which I think I hide well) and partly due to his credibility - because, despite the aforementioned irritants, he is the most intelligent person I know. And an intelligence that has also translated into material success (though he doesn't agree), which makes it more credible. This time it was about relationships and I how I view them. He was particularly interested in knowing more about DB, and I realised how guarded and cautious I am in my responses. And that's with such a close friend! I keep saying that I am pretty open but I think when it comes to really private and important things, I am not that open. Even someone like a Shk has to make an effort.
Completely opposite was Barkha Dutt as the key note speaker at our IWD event yesterday. Her narrative of the role that gender has played in her worklife was warm, absorbing and intensely personal...I wonder if I can ever stand up and be so candid about my experiences, both positive and unsavory in a larger audience? Maybe I can, if the purpose behind the candidness is to talk about an issue. In fact, I have been, come to think of it. Anyway, contrary to the image that she seems to have developed, her speech and then her responses during Q&A and the panel discussion were sensible, balanced and nuanced. A lot of it resonated with me and this is what I enjoy the most - when someone is able to intelligently articulate and express something that I had felt. Its quite rare though :(
Some thoughts and viewpoints that struck a chord -
- Stop seeing gender as being just about women; gender should not become a dogma; it should be an agent of dialogue leading to change for the betterment of society as a whole (Both at work and in personal life, I feel many people dont realize that the issues we discuss are rarely reflective of reality - the reality is often complex and linked to many other issues that need to be tackled collectively)
- Dont ghettoise me; becoming closeted with no entry signs reinforces the same issue or problem we are fighting against; we need to work at integration with the mainstream and not away from it (I have always been against the tendency of every minority/silent/"victimised" community to create a world-within-the-world. I recognise the need for that safety but disliked it nevertheless. I finally found words to describe it)
- Avoiding the victimhood mentality; Creating a space for myself; Organizations and institutions need to help create spaces that deconstruct notions and sensitise the environment as a whole; tokenisms dont help (If you feel like a victim, you become one. Its one of the many self fulfiling prophecies I believe in. That doesnt mean I dont fall prey to it. I do. And thats why I keep saying it -cautioning myself as much as others)
- I had so many twists and turns in what I believed in (why is everyone forced to take a stand on everything? While I believe that being opinionated is usually a sign of intelligence, being able to admit that one's stand can change depending on which side of an issue influences you more is also a sign of mature intelligence. And I was go glad she admitted it too)
- Gender is synonymous with choices and one influence the other. The choices are of both personal and professional nature (I dont think there's right or wrong. There are just choices. If the choice is made with conviction and doesnt infringe on someone else's freedom, its usually "right")
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Two Trips
For quite a while, I had been extremely irritated that my "weekend" trips have become a thing of the past. These were brief holidays and respites from the daily madness of life, that I used to enjoy a lot...partly for the trip itself and the sightseeing etc. and partly for the company of close friends. Over several years, these trips, particularly the ones with D, formed a cherished part of my memories, both in my heart and photo albums!
Recently I got the chance to do two quick trips like this, and I took the chance. They were not the typical "driving out of Blr" trips that I used to have, but that doesn't matter...the end intent was the same...to be in a new environment and spend time close friends.
The first was Hyd...a city where I was going for the first time. We started the weekend with our first love - Jodha Akbar - and the "shahenshahi" flavor continued through the day with Qutab Shahi Tombs and Golconda Fort. It was very, very nice to explore an area of history that we weren't so familiar with...and as we racked our brains to establish linkages with pieces of history that we DID know, we realised how out of touch we were with something that we have both interest and inclination towards. Sometimes I think of the boring conversations I have had recently and wonder if that time wouldn't have been better spent doing some interesting stuff like this...unfortunately, Blr is sadly bereft of history :( Anyway, the history lesson continued through to Charminar which i found to be much more impressive than I expected. Its not majestic or imposing but instead an extremely charming structure with very good detail. The surrounding areas are of course fascinating, not the least because of the good food. Two strong impressions that these trips have left behind are of pride and regret. Pride because of our truly interesting and complex heritage...Hyderabad for example, is named after a queen Hyder Begum, who was first a Hindu princess married to a Sultan who was much in love with her. This is such a prime example of the confluence of cultures that symbolise our history and which is now being distorted by wily politicians and an extremely dumb and witless mass of people. The regret is due to our sheer inability to preserve and present this heritage and use it for awareness, education and tourism. Despite having so many resources like these, our country is still "undeveloped" as a society and that again is due to the wily politicians taking advantage of dumb people. Case in point - how many middle class families pay any importance to history and culture in their children's upbringing?
The Hyd trip had other good aspects too - the Ramoji Film City (strangely exciting to even a jaded person like me!) and Firangi Pani, where I saw people DANCE!!!!!! Wow...people in other worlds dance...and that too without fear...wow....
:)
Another aspect that hit me about Hyd was the crowd - the mass of young men clad in synthetic brightly colored shirts, with colored hair, and tight pants and nasal accent ceased to be "exotic" within a few hours and moved to "ewwww!" category for the most part! The women are pretty though!!
Spending time with D was great too...more than anything else, his presence, like Mum, L, Unni etc...calms me and makes me feel sane again. Its not as if we have long, involved conversations - we dont! - its just his quiet understanding, dry humor, insightful observations on the world around and the common love of books and movies that has this effect.
Delhi trip came about by chance - I have Rinku to thank for it!! A CAW workshop became a 4-day trip of which I spent two with Shweta - sensible, funny, grounded, intelligent conversations about the world in general, and our life in particular! Thursday was a perfect day - a loooooooong lunch with wine and music, a drive to CP, Metro ride to Old Delhi, Red Fort, the Sound n Light show, rickshaw to Jama Masjid, dinner at Karim's. Like a silly tourist, I am again so overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of that area that I can hardly find descriptions! (actually I can, but I am so lazy that I dont want to type them...anyway, who cares about exact descriptions anyway, its not as if I am writing a column!). Friday night out was fun too...drinks at Buzz (incl. Absolut Pepper, yay!!), movie at PVR (at 12 at night - cool, I am such a country bumpkin) and paranthas n tea at a highway dhaba at 3 am!
The weekend was with Shk, accompanying him on shopping trips through the malls. I am pleased to announce that I crossed a milestone in my shopping career when I facilitated the purchase of Bulgari shades with numbered lenses worth about Rs.30k in total!! I was also present when about 50% of the Body Shop outlet was bought out (ok, I exaggerate, it was 20!!). More than the shopping, I actually unwinded at his nice house and in the pleasant company of Ch, his kiddo Harshit and of course, him. No, I didnt unwind with him. He winds me up instead!!! Because of his nature, and also because of the increasing distance between our worlds, he is SOOOO irritating, especially since he uses that as a route to get attention and make conversation!! I always lose my temper with him and then regret it later when I have said "bye" because I genuinely miss him a lot. Like D, his presence is also important for me, mainly because of the simplicity and genuineness of his emotions.
So...these were my trips. Not captured on camera for a change...dont know why...but important nevertheless. Hope this sets the trend for this year :)
Recently I got the chance to do two quick trips like this, and I took the chance. They were not the typical "driving out of Blr" trips that I used to have, but that doesn't matter...the end intent was the same...to be in a new environment and spend time close friends.
The first was Hyd...a city where I was going for the first time. We started the weekend with our first love - Jodha Akbar - and the "shahenshahi" flavor continued through the day with Qutab Shahi Tombs and Golconda Fort. It was very, very nice to explore an area of history that we weren't so familiar with...and as we racked our brains to establish linkages with pieces of history that we DID know, we realised how out of touch we were with something that we have both interest and inclination towards. Sometimes I think of the boring conversations I have had recently and wonder if that time wouldn't have been better spent doing some interesting stuff like this...unfortunately, Blr is sadly bereft of history :( Anyway, the history lesson continued through to Charminar which i found to be much more impressive than I expected. Its not majestic or imposing but instead an extremely charming structure with very good detail. The surrounding areas are of course fascinating, not the least because of the good food. Two strong impressions that these trips have left behind are of pride and regret. Pride because of our truly interesting and complex heritage...Hyderabad for example, is named after a queen Hyder Begum, who was first a Hindu princess married to a Sultan who was much in love with her. This is such a prime example of the confluence of cultures that symbolise our history and which is now being distorted by wily politicians and an extremely dumb and witless mass of people. The regret is due to our sheer inability to preserve and present this heritage and use it for awareness, education and tourism. Despite having so many resources like these, our country is still "undeveloped" as a society and that again is due to the wily politicians taking advantage of dumb people. Case in point - how many middle class families pay any importance to history and culture in their children's upbringing?
The Hyd trip had other good aspects too - the Ramoji Film City (strangely exciting to even a jaded person like me!) and Firangi Pani, where I saw people DANCE!!!!!! Wow...people in other worlds dance...and that too without fear...wow....
:)
Another aspect that hit me about Hyd was the crowd - the mass of young men clad in synthetic brightly colored shirts, with colored hair, and tight pants and nasal accent ceased to be "exotic" within a few hours and moved to "ewwww!" category for the most part! The women are pretty though!!
Spending time with D was great too...more than anything else, his presence, like Mum, L, Unni etc...calms me and makes me feel sane again. Its not as if we have long, involved conversations - we dont! - its just his quiet understanding, dry humor, insightful observations on the world around and the common love of books and movies that has this effect.
Delhi trip came about by chance - I have Rinku to thank for it!! A CAW workshop became a 4-day trip of which I spent two with Shweta - sensible, funny, grounded, intelligent conversations about the world in general, and our life in particular! Thursday was a perfect day - a loooooooong lunch with wine and music, a drive to CP, Metro ride to Old Delhi, Red Fort, the Sound n Light show, rickshaw to Jama Masjid, dinner at Karim's. Like a silly tourist, I am again so overwhelmed by the sights, sounds and smells of that area that I can hardly find descriptions! (actually I can, but I am so lazy that I dont want to type them...anyway, who cares about exact descriptions anyway, its not as if I am writing a column!). Friday night out was fun too...drinks at Buzz (incl. Absolut Pepper, yay!!), movie at PVR (at 12 at night - cool, I am such a country bumpkin) and paranthas n tea at a highway dhaba at 3 am!
The weekend was with Shk, accompanying him on shopping trips through the malls. I am pleased to announce that I crossed a milestone in my shopping career when I facilitated the purchase of Bulgari shades with numbered lenses worth about Rs.30k in total!! I was also present when about 50% of the Body Shop outlet was bought out (ok, I exaggerate, it was 20!!). More than the shopping, I actually unwinded at his nice house and in the pleasant company of Ch, his kiddo Harshit and of course, him. No, I didnt unwind with him. He winds me up instead!!! Because of his nature, and also because of the increasing distance between our worlds, he is SOOOO irritating, especially since he uses that as a route to get attention and make conversation!! I always lose my temper with him and then regret it later when I have said "bye" because I genuinely miss him a lot. Like D, his presence is also important for me, mainly because of the simplicity and genuineness of his emotions.
So...these were my trips. Not captured on camera for a change...dont know why...but important nevertheless. Hope this sets the trend for this year :)
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