a hunk of life

Clues

2010-06-21T20:48:00.004+05:30

Q. How do you know when an elephant has been in your fridge?
A. You find footprints in the butter.
So cute!

Q. How do you know what an Indian has been in your toilet?
A. Footprints on the toilet seat.
How offensive.

Or so I think until I see them in the loos at work.
There are shoe prints! Can't they at least get barefoot? I'm too disgusted to say more.

And the Larder Too

2010-06-13T22:20:00.004+05:30

I want Nigella Lawson's kitchen.
It is enormous; equipped with the best, er, equipment; has a beautiful view of the garden; and best of all, it's white!
Can you imagine cooking Indian food in a white kitchen? Frying ilish maach, slow cooking mutton masala, marinating tandoori chicken..... ooh the spots from that one!
But I figure, I only cook Indian food 50% of the time, and if I had a kitchen as lovely as this one, I'd look after it.
If I had Nigella's kitchen, I could be a professional chef. I too would scoff at the calorie-conscious and slap bricks of butter into a basin-sized wok. Drop in slices of herb-coated potatos and serve them crispy alongside juicy spare ribs. Followed, of course, by something sinfully chocolicious.
I'd invite everyone to dinner and accept compliments with quiet pride.
Sigh.
I deserve that kitchen.

As Time Goes By

2010-06-05T15:21:00.005+05:30

I've often felt like I spend a good percentage of my life waiting. For someone to call, someone to come, someone to leave, something to happen, something to change. Just waiting and waiting.

A few years ago, realizing that one truly needs to be the change one wants to see, I changed jobs, cities, expectations.

But I'm still waiting. Less, but still waiting. For a sign that I've finally hit upon the right approach to life, the right path at work, the right balance of self and others.

I think this is in some way a subversive fantasy. You know, the one in which the princess waits in her ivory tower to be rescued by the handsome prince on his white steed. (Yeah, right!)

It's time for a different fairy tale. Lara Croft.

Free Association

2010-06-01T19:03:00.001+05:30

Crackerjack!

I decide to revive my blog, and sitting page open, I wonder what to write about and the first word that pops into my head is crackerjack. And for the life of me I can't figure out where I heard that or why I thought of it just now.

I google-discovered that it's the name of a British TV series for kids, and it's also the brand name of an Ameican breakfast cereal. I thought that was cool - serial/cereal - just so cool ! But I still don't know why I thought of it.

Then I got thinking about the names of Indian breakfast cereals - Mohun, Bagry's...... sorry to say, none of these names would just pop into my head if I were pondering over what to write.

So, crackerjack.....

Not much of a lead that.

Hmmmm.

Ok next time.

House of Horrors

2009-11-10T00:09:00.002+05:30

So it's become quite cold in Bangalore these days (will I have to issue a public apology for not saying Bengaluru?) and the wind is turning my house into the perfect set for a B-grade horror flick. For some architectural flaw, the sliding windows in my room don't close perfectly shut, and the mm-thin gaps that remain form the perfect whistle. Remember all those really bad movies in which the wind shrieks? That's exactly what happens all evening and all night. OOOOoooooOOOO
I mean WTF! Not only that, the loo door keeps banging and waking me up. The window in the loo has louvres that are too tight to shut, and the door has lost its knob so it doesn't anchor shut. So every time the wind picks up, I have to be startled awake. I've been jamming it shut with paper, but I guess the best thing would be to replace the knob - what say?
But coming back to the scary movie thing - the howling wind, the banging doors, the unfathomable noises from the upstairs neighbours at 3 am - it's all the ingredients of the flick that forces you into fright!
All that's left is for the power to go off and the white-masked creature from the Scream to appear. (Like I'm Neve Campbell!) Tonight I will wear 3 sweaters, use two quilts, jam the loo door with a doormat, and keep the window wide open. Damned if I'm kept awake again!

And again

2009-08-09T23:46:00.004+05:30

If I like something I want at least two of it. For example, I can never buy one bar of chocolate. Or one book. Or one top in a design I like. I'd like to have two of the same persons I like too. One to go do what they want, and one to always be with me. I've actually discussed this concept with someone, and he asked whether I'd know which one is the original and which the clone. I wonder. If the answer is yes, then what's the point of the clone? If the answer is no, then how am I appreciating the uniqueness of this person?

Metamorphosis

2009-08-08T02:12:00.002+05:30

I've had a fascination for owls ever since I was a little kid. I love them - their big round eyes and the general "who the heck are you?" expression they have on their faces. The trouble with liking something so much is that you begin to take on either its features or its attributes.

I think I'm turning into an owl. I've become positively nocturnal. I can't sleep when I go to bed early; when I go to bed late I wake up early. What it is? Next my head will turn 360 degrees! Well, I never got any wisdom teeth - I guess this is as good a way to get wise.

Breaking Up

2009-08-05T22:04:00.002+05:30

The doc who finally put a name to my pain says I gotta lose all the lovehandles I'm carrying around cos (as we all know) I'll face problems later in life. Hmph. Like I don't have any now. Anyway, I've heard this a million times before but I never really cared, but for some reason this guy managed to psych me out. It's been a couple of weeks, and I'm watching what I eat and generally feeling better. However, the seed that the dude with the steth planted in my head seems to be growing into this crazy wild bush that's almost completely driven my appetite away. In the last couple of days, I've hardly eaten anything, and I'm not hungry at all. Einz, if you're reading this, can you believe it??!! What will we do if I'm not khau anymore? If the lovehandles were coming off, I wouldn't feel so bad. But WTF! Not eat and still not be thin? That's not happiness! What will I do for fun? What will I do for comfort? Food doesn't love me any more! Waaaaah :'(

Animal Pin-Ups

2009-07-14T09:47:00.004+05:30

I hate house lizards. They're clammy and ugly and downright gross. Shudder! Au contraire the garden lizards (geckos, chameleons, and so on) that I quite like. Not at close quarters - they should be at least 5 feet away. I like their colours and their speed, and the fact that they don't look slimy. A garden lizard is the animal version of the surfer dude. Fit and radiant, and a true worshipper of the Sun.

When I'm 64

2009-07-06T18:41:00.003+05:30

No romantic song by the Fab Four this.
Instead it's an ambition.
When I'm 64, I want to be a spiritual leader to whom people donate their 5-figure monthly salaries.
I just heard of someone who gives up their sizable monthly income to a swamiji. Every month!
I don't know what he/she gets in return.
So why will I wait till I'm 64? Cos I think I'll look more trustworthy with grey hair and wrinkles. (I refuse to admit to either till 63).
What will I give in return? A kind look, and a gentle pat, and a "Sab theek ho jayega."

Where from you hail?

2009-06-16T13:00:00.002+05:30

I've always been interested in accents and trying to determine where someone is from based on how they speak. Sometimes it gets difficult cos people who live near the state's border can just as easily sound like someone from the next state. But I've found a great way to tell their place of origin. Put them on speaker phone on a bad line. From the inflections in their English, you will be able to pick up intonations peculiar to their native tongue It really works. Very recently, I was in a training that was being conducted over the phone, and it seemed to me that the facilitator was from Bengal, but couldn't tell for sure. In half an hour or so, I got tired of holding the phone to my ear, so put the call on speaker. As is common in long trainings, my mind started wandering and in a while I stopped really listening. The voice receded to this drone in the background, and after sometime I thought the guy was talking in Oriya.
Voila !!!

Jeez! - I mean Cheese!

2009-06-10T23:12:00.006+05:30

In Jan this year I put 12 photographs into a customised calendar to commemorate a family vacation. It was quite an effort, as I found that most of the pictures I'd taken were of the sky, mountains, winding roads, birds, insects, flowers.....well, anything non-human! I wouldn't have minded a calendar based on the inmates of Mysore Zoo, but the rest of my folks lean towards pictures of the two-legged variety.

So after that bit of difficulty, I vowed to take more people pics whenever I'm on holiday. Staying true to my promise, I kept asking to be photographed when the husband and I took a weekend off last month. You should see the results. Gosh! The torn-winged moth from last June's holiday looked more animated. I have this impatient "hurry up and snap already" look in all of the pictures. Aargh, I hate it. I'm ok in group pics, but the ones alone - I have bared teeth in some semblance of a grin, or upturned corners to my lips, but cold eyes - gaaa. Horrific! The only time my pic comes out OK if I pretend to be someone else, and that's just too much effort.

I'll leave you with the pic of the torn-winged moth. It's not pretending to be someone else.

Under Pressure

2009-06-07T23:00:00.004+05:30

The whole world's crazy about it, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. I'm talking about Facebook, which at this time seems to be the center of the universe !

Why?

All my friends are on it, and under duress I signed up, but gosh! It's like a busy Bangalore street. People all going here and there, and doing this and that, and all talking at once. Random folks bumping into you. So why am I still there? Probably cos I invested a lot of time setting up my profile, and ocassionally I do get to hook up with old friends I'd completely lost touch with.

Like recently, when I managed to locate a childhood pal after 24 years! So worth the noise, isn't it?

Je Ne Sais Quoi

2009-05-07T02:10:00.004+05:30

For the past year and more, there's been this pain that visited my tummy every so often. I thought it was from eating crap all the time, so I would cut down on one type of yum food a week to identify the culprit. I could never pin it down, but the general consensus was that it's the 4 teaspoons of bournvita in one glass of cold milk at bedtime (the erstwhile highlight of my day). So I gave that up. But the pain persisted. So I went to the doc, who through a series of tests discovered that I had a little unnecessary piece of benign being inside me. I had that removed with the hope that I had bid my pain goodbye, but oh dearie me, no! It was back. By then I'd had enough of doctors so I ignored the whole thing for a few weeks. The pain would come and go, till one day it was so bad that I had to rush to emergency, where the doctors wanted to prove their prowess by taking out the least complicated body part - the appendix. Of course, I stood up for its rights and said no way are they doing any such thing, esp when all the tests were negative. So with great reluctance, they let me out with only an injection. Then I figured it was time to see another doc, so I went to one who referred me to another, who gave me some meds, which made me better. So I was happy and I went home for a week. Then I came back and the pain came back. Every day. Lots. So I went to ayurvedic doc cos I thought at least that won't have side effects. I have to have the stinkiest meds on the face of the planet and rub an oil on my tummy. But I think that's better than popping pills all day, which I am prone to do. But the next day the pain was so bad I went to emergency again. They made me wait for two hours. So I figured it's cos I wasn't screaming in pain. That's a useful lesson for anyone who wants quick attention. Please scream. Well anyway, they checked for many things but it was all clear, so I came home. The next day I went back to the doc who made me better for some time. He gave me the same meds. I am better again. I think I will be better for 2 weeks cos that's how long this course is. After that, when the pain comes back, I will go to an astrologer and ask him what I should do. He will tell me to wear a red stone. I will not wear it cos I don't like the idea of surrendering my health to a piece of jewellery. By then there will nothing else to try. And I'm sure, being the loyal thing that it is, the pain will still be around. So I will have to start the alternative healing that I used to practise all those years ago. A valid question at this point would be why did I not do that all this while. The only time I think about doing it is when I am in pain. And then I am in so much pain that I can't focus. So I don't do it. What then? Sigh. What a pain.

The Simplest Recipe

2009-03-08T18:47:00.003+05:30

I was channel surfing this evening and stopped at scene showing a group of 4 women curled up around a coffee table drinking vodka and eating chocolate. It was obvious that they'd had a crappy day and were trying to make themselves feel better - and succeeding from the looks of it.

Greatly inspired, I decided to google a chocolate fudge cake recipe. I found plenty, for cake as well as for chocolate, but the strangest one by far is this one for sugarfree dark chocolate:
Ingredients: 500 g - melted & tempered sugar free dark chocolate
Method: Melt and temper Sugar free Dark Chocolate and put in a mould. Cool in refrigerator for 25 to 30 minutes. Tap each chocolate out from the mould. Arrange nicely on a serving tray and serve.

How can the ingredients for a food be the food itself? This is like saying I make great biryani. I get it from Hyderabad House!

Cinema सिनेमा

2009-03-03T22:31:00.006+05:30

I watched a movie on TV called The Transporter. It's about an ex-special forces operator, Frank, who now lives in France and works as a transporter making not quite legal deliveries of people/cargo. I'm not going to provide the whole plot here; suffice it to say that Frank gets involved with one of his packages, a young, attractive Chinese girl named Lai, and all hell breaks loose when they attempt to rescue 400 Chinese people smuggled into the country to be used as slave labour.

I must confess I kind of enjoyed it. It was fast-paced and reasonably gripping. No great acting - the characters were true to type. The strong, silent, I-work-better-alone hero; the young, vulnerable-but-gutsy heroine; the handsome villain known only as Wall Street; the I'm-tough-but-I-have-a-heart middle-aged cop. It was good watching if you had something on the stove and had to get up periodically to stir without missing much.

But all through the movie I kept thinking that this was actually a Hindi movie made in English by mistake. I could almost see the writer explaining "Is mein sub kuch hai. Action, romance, comedy, family drama. Fight sequence mein hero ka body dikhaenge, highway mein car aur truck ka chase dikhaenge. Superhit fillum banega!" And seriously that's what it was - an out and out Dhoom 2. I am happy to say that Hrithik and Aishwarya are way better looking and had better chemistry than the lead pair in this movie, but the fact that Lai didn't have that silly giggle was a huge factor in her favour.

So my rating, 2/5. For Dhoom 2, not The Transporter.

The Fine Art of Letter Writing

2009-03-01T18:16:00.004+05:30

When I was in primary school, we were taught how to write our first letter to a friend. Here's how they said it should be...

My dearest friend {name of friend},

How are you? I am fine. I am so happy to hear that you are coming to visit this summer. It has been a long time since we last met. Let me know the details of your arrival so I can receive you.

Looking forward to seeing you.

Yours affectionately,

{your name}

I don't know why I thought of this after so many years. I think I miss the definiteness of relationships. Earlier there were best friends, schoolfriends, tuition friends, neighbour friends, friends of relatives friends, ex-friends (friendship broken cos someone shared lunch with the sworn enemy). I could immediately tell you how I knew someone, and how close or not I was to them.

But now, I can converse freely with anyone I meet, and make you think I've known them for ages. I can have a party for a dozen people where everyone meets everyone for the first time, and I would introduce them all as "my friends". But in all this soical frenzy, I keep myself essentially isolated. There's no real sharing. Noone who's met me for the first time in the past two years would know that I write poetry, or sketch in charcoal. They wouldn't know I've run an alternative healing center. They'd never believe I pick up the cell phone a second before it rings. Ok the last one, practically no one believes. But it's true. 90% of the time.

Anyway, coming back to the point. I think I've become commerically savvy but emotionally impoverished. Except when my REAL friends are around or in touch. I know myself through my relationships. So I'm happy that the lasting ones are so great.

By the way, if I had to write that letter now, here's how it would go:

Duuuude! you're finally coming to {name of city}. The last time we met I wore plastic jewellery and you had big hair. When you getting here? I'll take a couple of hours off from work and come home to let you in. Let me know. Yayyyyy!!

{no signature}

You got the job.

2009-02-16T22:23:00.004+05:30

The usual demand at interviews - Tell me something about yourself. Hopefully I won't have to hear this in the near future, but if I do, my response will be "Deep down I'm very shallow."

What the..! (or Part 1 in the series of 'I Just Don't Have a Clue'

2009-02-15T10:01:00.004+05:30

Just how tech-unsavvy am? Internet Explorer 7 blinks when I launch it on my new laptop, and I'm staring at the screen wondering why. It asks me to choose personal settings, etc; but doesn't allow me to cos it's blinking, and I have no clue why. So I stare at it for a while, then close it. Then after a minute of waiting, I think perhaps it's fixed itself so I can launch it again. Oho, but no. It still blinks. Ok then. I'll just wait till someone who is marginally better at it than I am happens to be home when I'm trying this out (read husband). But I so know what'll happen. He'll say do this, I'll say why, he'll say just do it, I'll say but it has to make sense.....and so on.
Alas!

Toilet P&L

2009-02-09T13:35:00.003+05:30

The recession has the corporate world implementing cost-cutting plans with a vengeance, and sometimes I'm inconvenienced, but mostly I understand, and try to do my bit to help save whatever resources I can. But here's a weird side effect of cost cutting...
They've recently introduced movement-sensor-driven light fixtures in the office loos, which are all very fine, but do the new high-tech systems have to be anti-women? Consider the following example.
I sit when I use the loo cos I'm a woman and proud of it. But when I'm in the middle of my little task, the light goes off. And why? Cos there's nothing below it. The sensors in the stalls have been placed exactly above the place I would stand in front of the commode if I were a man. As this spot remains unoccupied once I'm seated, the @#$% object assumes that there's no one in the loo and switches off!
My workaround for the problem is to do leg lifts. Might as well get some exercise while I'm at it. At the current rate, I can book a reduction of 1 mm off my tummy by the end of the 1st quarter.

Guess who's back

2009-01-14T18:30:00.003+05:30

I'm out of hibernation now. As I told a friend of mine, I was taking a break from communication for a while. There were too many things to deal with - stolen stuff, change of job, following up with insurance on stolen stuff, adjusting to the new job...the list goes on. A lot happened in the last few weeks that I wanted to write about, but there was a huge gap between wanting to write and actually sitting down and writing. I couldn't bridge that gap, and somewhere inside I really didn't want to. I needed some space and I took it. I'm back now cos life has settled into a kind of routine, and I'm ready once again to share. To come back to the land of the communicative. To talk about what's going on with me, around me. So my good friends who read my blog - yes all blooming 5 of you - the bitch is back!

Auto-suggestion

2008-11-06T20:01:00.004+05:30

Those who know me well know that I've had a long, colourful history of interactions with autorickshaw drivers all over India. The most recent one of note, that didn't end in me losing 5 years of my life due to stress, went something like this...
I need to be somewhere by 8 am these days, and it's such a joy taking an auto at 7 am, cruising down half-empty roads with the cool Bangalore morning breeze tickling your tonsils.
I noticed today that the auto driver was enjoying it too. He had his head wrapped Arafat style, which not only protected him from the said cool breeze, but (as I soon discovered) also deprived him of peripheral vision! He'd gaze entranced at the sight of the rolling lawns of Cubbon park, and because he had to turn his head to the left to actually see it, he wasn't aware that slowly he'd begin pointing the nose of the auto in that direction too. And when he finally looked forward, he'd jerk to a halt with an "Uhh" sound because a motorbike had suddenly materialised in front of him out of nowhere. Then a few kilometers down, he'd be lost again at the sight of some other park to the right, and of course his auto would follow. Then, "Uhh"!
So for the entire 12-14 kilometers, we went wheeeeee (meander left) - Uhh - whoooooo (meander right) - Uhh - wheeeeee - Uhh - whoooooo - Uhh.
I soon found myself chanting this in my head again and again - wheeeeee - Uhh - whoooooo - Uhh - wheeeeee - Uhh - whoooooo - Uhh!
Much like the adoring crowd at Obama's victory speech, chorusing fervently, "Yes, we can!"

For my brother

2008-11-02T11:17:00.003+05:30

Tomorrow will see me at a new place of work - a conscious decision to change, taken at the urging of the voice in my head that kept saying I had to do this, despite there being zero guarantees for a better future, and the hard fact that I would be leaving the one person behind that made going to work as personally rewarding as anything I would choose to do in my spare time.

This song is for him:

There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time for every purpose, under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to
A time for peace, I swear its not too late

The Epiphany

2008-10-24T00:14:00.001+05:30

You know what would make life perfect?

If choconut sundaes could hug.

Oops

2008-10-22T17:35:00.003+05:30

I have this friend who calls me every so often pretending to be someone from the credit card company, my place of work, my bank, random vile man, etc. etc. And of course he'd laugh and laugh, mighty pleased with his own joke. I thought I'd wised up and knew his voice well enough to catch a gag immediately. But I learned there's something as being too wise....
I get a call from someone calling himself Joshua, claiming to be from some consultancy or the other trying to offer me a job. Since he sounds exactly like my friend, and I thought no one is called Joshua, I go on and on telling him how jobless he is to make these random calls. Joshua on the other hand, keeps going "Excuse me....what.....sorry...?" Finally he says, "Look this isn't a prank, I really am Joshua, and I'm calling about a job you might be interested in..."
I'm like ooops!!!! What could I say after that? "Sorry Joshua, I'm not interested."
Thank God I wasn't rude!
I'm going to kill that friend of mine! His wife who secretly reads my blog better warn him!

Blowing in the Wind

2008-10-16T22:30:00.004+05:30

I like going back to Cal cos my folks are there, and some of my closest friends are there; but after a few days I'm dying to come back to Bangalore. This, however, is not the city I'm planning to settle down in. I'm petty certain I'll want to move out in a year or so. For the last couple of years, I've been telling people I want to live and work in Singapore, and that's something I might pursue, but again, am sure I won't stay there too long.

There's something I'm looking for - an answer to a question I'm not even sure of, but I find it sometimes in the air when I'm trying to cross a busy street, and am stuck on the divider for waiting for the traffic to thin so I can go all the way across. I realize that I'm a part of the world, doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing at that moment by crossing the street and getting to where I'm headed. Sadly that kind of clarity of purpose doesn't last long, and within minutes I'm wondering what I'm doing with my life.

Will I'll find the answer if I stand on the divider long enough? Or is that the only place from where my destination is in plain sight?

Kolkata Report

2008-10-12T11:43:00.002+05:30

Here's what didn't happen:
Bag shopping
Nizam rolls
CCFC
Cha bar
Gurusaday Road Barista
BUT, here's what happened:
Laptop, camera, dvd player stolen. Yes, stolen. In the night when 7.5 people were asleep with the light on. Don't these things only happen to other people? :-(

Charge of the Child Brigade

2008-10-06T18:19:00.002+05:30

Child to the right of me;
Child in front of me;
Child to the back of me;
Screeched and clamoured.
Nose wrinkled, temper contained,
Valiantly I fought
My sanity to maintain.

Was this the seat from hell or what? I can honestly say that this was my worst flight since the time I puked all over my mom 29 years ago!
Child to the right: was asleep the entire time, but kept me awake with the strong aroma of babypuke that it was emanating.
Child in front: bong kid travelling with its grandparents, the grandmom of which would threaten every 2 minutes, "Tiger aashchey, tiger aashchey" (the tiger is coming).
Child behind: never saw the kid, but heard its eager parents go Arya, square...Arya, fold the paper...see, triangle...Arya, fold again...see small triangle....Arya, this....Arya, that....Aaaaaargh!!!

Don't get me wrong; I like kids, but in small doses and clean-smelling. Am now racking my brains to figure out a way to book a seat that's at least 5 away from anything below 12 years of age!

Kolkata To-Eat List

2008-09-26T01:01:00.003+05:30

Mom's fish curry

Kookie Jar pastries and chicken envelopes

Flury's tea and pineapple pudding cake

Bengal Club Chinese food

Tangra Chinese food

Nizam rolls

CCFC onion pakoras

Tea at the Oxford Cha Bar

Coffee at the Gurusaday Road Barista for old time's sake

Colour no Bar

2008-09-24T22:42:00.006+05:30

For the longest time, I hated the colour brown. I would never ever wear anything that was brown, or use that colour on anything unless that was its natural colour. To me, brown meant dull, it meant boring, it meant ugly. My autobiography was going to be titled Brown is not my Colour.

However, I've noticed of late that I've lost that violent anti-brown sentiment. In the past few weeks I've been looking at brown clothes with interest, and finally on Sunday, the unthinkable happened. I bought a brown shirt. I don't think anyone will comprehend what a big deal this is, so I'm not going to try and explain, but to me it's the dawn of a new era.

I looked up the significance of the colour, and this was one of the things I found:

It is a protective colour, but you may be bottling up emotion or a secret that makes you retreat into your shell and fear the outside world; thus you feel protected by wearing brown or muddy colour.

All lies! I'm not retreating into my shell or fearing the outside world. Bring it on, I say. Bring it on! I will whack you with my rolled up new brown shirt!

The downside is I'll have to think up a new name for my autobiography.

Cogito Ergo Dumb

2008-09-24T00:18:00.002+05:30

Humans are flawed.
They hurt each other.
They don't know anything apart from themselves.
They don't give a shit.
No that's not right. They can't give a shit.
Cos they're human.
I don't like humans.
I don't want to be human.

Rock on, why don't you

2008-09-22T23:26:00.007+05:30

I've seen almost every musical ever made - from West Side Story to Flashdance; from Singing in the Rain to Hello Dolly; from Breakdance to Dirty Dancing; from The Doors to Ray. Hindi films don't count, cos even a horror film is a musical, but I went to see Rock On, and hello! I loved it! It was fun and normal and feel good. The music isn't amazing, but I kinda like Farhan Akhtar's strange voice and sometimes off-key singing. And I wouldn't be a woman rock music nut if I didn't swoon at the sight of Arjun Rampal going into a guitar solo with his waist-length hair blowing in the breeze! Oh drooool!

The movie reminded me of my crazy teen years in Calcutta where my friends and I would chase every concert in the city. We'd go in groups of 15 or more and nothing was more important than knowing the words so we could screech the chorus out at the top of our lungs. I still haven't lost this habit, btw. When I'm driving alone, I have the windows up so I can yell out along with whatever cd is playing. It's people from this same group that call me everytime a movie like Rock On comes along, and we reminisce about the time we were "cat", which is Calcuttese for hip.

PS: The old dude in the pic is as much a rock star as anyone - he played this great rock and roll tune with that guitar balanced on his forehead!

18 Till I Die Trying

2008-09-18T00:30:00.003+05:30

People who know me well are aware that I have a big thing about growing old. It's my worst nightmare and I will never ever ever age gracefully. I'll go cos I have to go, but I'll go kicking and screaming, and biting and punching.

But what really really gets me is how people I think look way older than me are either the same age as me, or - hold your breath - younger !! How can they be younger? How? They look like old hags! Or geezers! So then I go around terribly offended. It's bad enough that women like Sharon Stone are in their 50s and look 20 years younger, but I can at least console myself with the thought of the million ccs of Botox they've used so far. But these folks being my age - what the dutch chocolate is that all about? So what then? I look as old as them? I should be hanging out with them, but I am in denial about my age and insist on piling on to the young crowd? What? What? Argh!

This takes away all the malicious glee I felt when I went to my high school reunion and found that many of my batchmates were distinctly beginning to grey, while my hair was as dark as a raven's wing. (tee hee)

You may miss the bride

2008-09-15T19:45:00.009+05:30

So my cousin-in-law got married this month and a good time was had by all. This was the first Punju wedding I attended since I left Cal, and oye, was it fun! There was singing, dancing, eating, and even a little adventure.

What else would you call sneaking the bride into the wedding venue after the baraat had already danced its way in? Here's how it came to pass...

My cousin-in-law has never been crazy about clothes and make up, so underestimated the time she would need to get all brided up. As a result, she was late to her own wedding, and almost tailgated the groom on his white horse. Apparently its not good for her to be seen walking in late, so 3 of us women were dispatched to form a human shield around her as she attempted to make a rapid get-in.

Easier said than done when she's wearing an 5000 watt outfit, and the kaliras hanging from her wrist jingle louder than a warden's cell keys. So she was seen by the wives of her soon-to-be husband's friends, and by an elderly gentleman from the groom's side (who actually helped us bring her in.)

She was also seen by the 50 odd guests seated in front of the mandap 2 hours ahead of schedule.

What they were doing there when the rest of the folks were shaking shoulders to authentic bhangra music I don't know! But the main thing is that neither the groom nor his parents caught her illegal entry, so it was AOK.

I'm waiting for the happy couple to return from their honeymoon so I can find out if she's confessed her misadventures to her husband. I hope she has cos I can't wait to rib him about it.

While on the subject of weddings, I have to tell you about this woman I met recently who got divorced after 18 years of marriage. Her oldest daughter is 22. The reason this is extraordinary is that the said woman looks all of 30-32 years old. Not a line on her face, and a real cool attitude. She was also quite a few drinks down cos she kissed me when I said she looked 22. This was the first time we met. Quite forward to kiss on the first date, dontcha think? I shd clarify that it was my cheek she kissed.

Please repeat it again

2008-08-30T19:20:00.002+05:30

I used to want to do voice overs for American cartoons, but now I think the Indian animation industry needs me more. Have you seen the animated films about Krishna or Hanuman, etc? Or more importantly, have you heard them? "Heeyer I am, mother. I waas eeating butt-ter behind the pautts."
I am appalled each time I hear the dubbing; and by not volunteering my services, I think I'm ignoring the horrific future of the nation's children who will grow up speaking like this.
But let's do a quick reality check. The last time I said "Take the left at the T-junction", the response was "Dedden left?" (dead-end left)
So let me accept that my efforts would be a mere drop in the mighty ocean. And after all, it's not how a person speaks, but what he/she says that is important. (HMPH!)

A Flying F@#$

2008-08-26T21:56:00.003+05:30

This post is an excuse for me to let forth a stream of invective! What's the deal with these ridiculous airfares? Bangalore-Kolkata has always been the most expensive sector in the country, but in the last couple of years I have managed to get return tickets for about 7k. BUT NOW, WTF, the cheapest ticket costs more than 7 k one way! I scrounged many rupees together this month and booked my passage for the pujas, and thought I was done for the year. But then something came up and I had to look up Kolkata-Hyd-Kolkata fares. Cheapest fare 10.5 k! In the good old days of affordable air travel, the Rahul Dhawan has actually done this in under 2k. Hurts like hell. The only thing that could cause more pain would be to miss a non-refundable flight because of the traffic-jammed 40km distance that I now have to travel to get to the new improved Bengaluru International Airport!

Temporary Tattoos Forever

2008-08-19T22:49:00.006+05:30

A few years ago I was dying to get a tattoo. I even walked into a place that does it in Bombay, but left cos they were too busy. I wanted a tree on my ankle. Don't ask me why. I just did. Then that changed to wanting a broken heart somewhere above my heart. Then it was the Egyptian eye on my shoulder blade.
A tattoo, I've heard, is a way of expressing oneself. I believe it, but refuse to take it at face value. Meaning, I don't believe that people who get death's heads permanently imprinted on them are necessarily evil and scary. They might be *bleep* scared of dying, which is why they choose a skull as a way of thumbing their nose at the grim reaper. Or those who get their partners' names tattooed on various parts of their bodies. Does this mean they'd be eternally in love with them? Ha! No way! Remember Johnny Depp? And Angelina Jolie? Both had to get their tattoos altered/removed when they moved on from their relationships. This brings me to the big question about the Saif. Now that he has करीना on his arm, what does he do when he has to romance the women in his movies? Wear a prosthetic?
OK back to expressing oneself. I finally never got a tattoo. I realized it was a permanent expression of a transient part of you, and I don't want to have to carry the burden of a damn fool phase for the rest of my life. Besides, I don't do pain. Yet.

Diplomatic Immunity

2008-08-18T12:53:00.004+05:30

I got caught in the downpour on Saturday when I was returning home in a rick. You know how these things are - nothing on the sides to shield you. So by the time I reached home, my arms were completely wet, my skirt was damp from the rain splashing on the seats, and I was shivering like a malariac (nice word, what) from the icy coldness of it all.
Well, there's more - I was running a raging fever by nightfall, with a headache as intense as Irrfan Khan in Maqbool. How I suffered! But trust my mom to burst my injured bubble. "I thought only kids got fever from the rain", she said. "Don't you have any immunity at all?" Since it was a rhetorical question, I ignored it. Not that I wasn't prepared for her reaction. It's always been this way, right since adolescence. My sister and I learned to defend our illnesses with great valour, and always wore her down in the end, when she was forced to be the Florence owl (never nightingale!). To be fair, I must say we even caught a worried frown on her face from time to time.
But this was clearly not one of those times.
She refused to come visit me unless I absolutely needed her! Ha!

Reflection

2008-08-03T01:19:00.004+05:30

Mirror, mirror on the wall

What's the biggest problem of them all

Wrinkles, bags, shadows, grey

Frown lines that deepen everyday

The mirror remains silent and clear

The voices that clamour

Are my own fears

No wrinkle, no bags, no shadow, no grey

Can keep you from flying

Or your dreams take away

I do that myself

In my bid for a future

That's safe and secure

No risk nor adventure

Forgetting the eagle

The river, the mountain

Securing my shackles

To divine intervention

I kiss goodbye

To a wild wondrous nature

And search in the mirror

For signs of aging

Perfect-Imperfect

2008-08-01T22:25:00.006+05:30

We were taught to make gratitude lists at a relationship workshop I once attended. I totally agree with the concept behind this - when you list the things you are truly grateful for, you realize how much you have been given in this life.

Today, however, is not one of the days that I want to list what I've been given. I always do that. Today I want to count the things I want that I don't have. And I don't mean a penthouse suite, or a Mercedes Benz. I'm talking about deeper, more meaningful things. But I can't list them here cos I don't want the world to know what I don't have. I'd rather have everyone think I have everything, cos it embarrasses me to be found lacking, or inadequate, or to be pitied, or to be thought vulnerable.

And in this way I advance in my own head the myth of the perfect me.

Family Matters

2008-07-31T01:58:00.000+05:30

What does it mean when people ask if someone comes from a "good" family? It's a really common Indianism and I've heard all kinds of people (even my folks) use it. I got thinking about it today and figured that I really don't know what it means. What makes a family good? Money? When a girl marries into an affluent family, you hear older people comment on what a good alliance she's made. So are poor families not good families? Perhaps if they were highly educated, they'd be good. What else makes a family not good? The more obvious not good things would be if the family business were of a dubious nature; or if they had wild raucous parties all night, every night, and disturbed the peace! I don't know...

Can I conclude that law-abiding families, leading a comfortable life, capable of hospitality, and conversing in grammatically correct sentences at the right volume in public, are good?

And families that pick fights at random, are stingy hosts, speak street lingo, and think money means culture are bad?

What, me giggle?

2008-07-27T23:22:00.000+05:30

I had my follow-up appointment with the dentist (not the bald one) yesterday so he could stick some blue goop in my mouth and make a mould for my new tooth. This visit was slightly bloody, but not anywhere close to how much I bled when I got my nosering (shall I put it back on?). I'm not sure if anyone knows what I'm talking about, but sometimes, when you nick your tongue or something, it's painful, but it feels kinda good...anyone felt that? No? Oof what straight and narrow lives you all lead!

OK so the doc makes the mould, and because he's ground the dead tooth to a millimeter, there's a nice little window there. To cover the gap, he fashions a temporary tooth out of that white stuff they do cosmetic fillings with, and starts a conversation:

Please note, my part is in italics cos I'm thinking the words. Like I said, is difficult to talk when your mouth is full of metal and cotton.

Doc: "I'm doing this because the gap will look funny."

Runa: How considerate.

Doc: This will also look funny, but less funny than the gap.

Runa: Oh? Funny how? Dracula funny? Good dog Lassie funny? Famous bong buck teeth funny?

Doc: It's arbitrarily done. Not the perfect size or shape. Or even colour. But it's only for a week.

Runa: What?? What have you stuck up there? A die (like in dice, you nutcases!)

Doc: And remember not to chew anything hard on that side - this is really flimsy material.

Runa: Whatttt? I can't even eat? For a whole week?

Well ok then. I only had plans with family this weekend and I guess it's ok for them not see my pearly whites at their best. But oh my goodness, I completely forgot all about my die till we had some folks over for a formal tea on Sunday. Not friends, just a couple we have some business with. And as is customary for me, I laughed heartily at everything, and even threw my head back once. And then I went OH SHIT! From then on, I only leaned forward and went tee hee whenever anything funny was said. I cannot tell you what a difficult 2 hours it was. I cannot, cannot imagine not being able to laugh out loud and free. I've been asked which sense I'd miss most if I lost it, and I always said sight; but laughsense comes as a very very close second!

Ok so should I bring the nosering back on?

Handsome is as Handsome Does

2008-07-20T20:13:00.000+05:30

I went to the dentist for the first time when I was in my 20s. And since I have decent teeth, I never really needed to go too often. So all was well till one of my fillings fell out after 5 years of loyal service. Being true to myself, I focused on the hardships around finding a good dentist in Bangalore (forget about the one that's 2 min from work - that's too easy) instead of preventing what ensued....

During a wonderful meal on my last trip to Cal, a corner of my poor unfilled tooth fell out onto my plate, leaving in its place a lovely gaping hole. That was 3 months ago. After a lot of persuasion from my sister, I dragged myself to her dentist; and only after she told me how good looking he was. Well anyway, I went and of course he tells me that I need a root canal. Yawn - what a surprise! But he was so considerate that he filled up two other teeth and relieved me of a couple of days' pay. By the way, I misunderstood. It's not this guy that's good looking; it's his partner - the one who does the root canals. So all was not lost...I still had something to look forward to.

On the fateful day, I rise early and eat a full meal like a condemned man. Who knows when I'll ever be able to eat again. Got to my appointment on time, looking for a hunk in a white coat. I see someone in a white coat alright, but he had a surgical mask on, so I couldn't tell if my sister was right. I waited with bated breath for the mask to come off. He says hi through it! Then he realized it's rude, so he pulls it off and introduces himself. And no. He's not handsome. Not at all. I'm like "Now wait a minute. It's bad enough I need to do a root canal; to top that you're not what they said you were! I've been had!!"

With a sigh I lay down in that godawful chair. The doc did have a good chairside manner though. Asked if I needed a cushion (I said yes), asked if I wanted the radio on (No, I don't like to be distracted when I am stressing), said it wouldn't hurt at all after the first tiny prick of the needle (Yeah right!). So he squirts the anaesthetic out of the syringe and inserts it in my gum. Hurt like 0.5 on 10. So that was OK. Then he says that's the worst of the pain. I narrow my eyes in response - it's difficult to voice suspicion when your mouth is full of metal and cotton. But he was right.

Gradually I noticed how much better looking he was getting. With each painless prod his features (behind his mask) got sharper and more Grecian. With each "Rinse your mouth please" his bald head started to look sophisticated rather than ...well...bald. By the end of that one-sitting root canal that "went beautifully" he was the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on.

I still think so. I have felt nary a twinge and it's been two days! This guy was unbelievably great! I never thought there could be such a thing as a painless root canal. Doesn't this prove that beauty lies in a strong anaesthetic?!

Note: I'm sure you want to know why I have a picture of a pot of biryani - that's what made my tooth fall out!

The Ladder Poll

2008-07-17T00:04:00.000+05:30

I learned something interesting today. I was remarking to a colleague how someone in the same organization has increasingly been passing their work on to others, and my colleague said that's how you know this guy's rising up the ranks. So I put 2 and 2 together and figured that the reason I am where I am is because I do my own work, and then some.
So the logical thing for me to do right now would be to shirk and/or delegate.
To agree, type Yes and sms to xxxx.
Airtel subscribers, pay my June bill.

Edge of Heaven

2008-07-14T22:48:00.000+05:30

So from the wedding we were at we decide to go off for a safari just like that. It's a normal thing to do right after weddings when you should actually be sleeping off the huge lunch in the comfort of an air-conditioned luxury suite. 9 of us in 2 Mahindras bumped along the hilly terrain in the hope of seeing a wild elephant or two, a herd of spotted deer, or if we're really lucky, a panther. Kilometer after nauseating kilometer we journey, seeing nothing wilder than a monkey, lunch rising dangerously my mouth with every passing minute. I wished the ride would come to an end and we'd turn back, knowing that my motion sickness would only get worse, and I'd be embarrassingly sick in front of everyone. We kept asking the driver how much farther before we come to the end of the agreed distance, and he'd say something unintelligible to even the Malayalam-speaking people in our group. Finally he rounds a corner and stops at the very edge of heaven. It was this huge lake, its surface smooth and mirror-like, reflecting the fading light of dusk. How breathtakingly beautiful. Motion sickness banished from my mind, I drank in the magic of the surroundings, knowing that my camera would capture not even a fraction of its true form.

Memories of Paradise

2008-07-11T22:37:00.000+05:30

Went to Kerala for a wedding and took an extra day to revive childhood memories of Fort Cochin (now Kochi) where my sister and I grew up. We went to our old house, school, the club that we used to go to everyday, and even the general store famous for its cocktail sausages!

Everything was much smaller than I remembered: the streets, the houses, the school - but all the memories came flooding back gigantic in their intensity. I remembered my way around the little town that has now become almost a mini Goa, minus the swimming. All the beautiful old houses have been converted to Home Stays or restaurants, the small restaurant that served the most awesome biryani has now become a tacky little inn. Most of the shops are owned by Kashmiris who have literally travelled across the length of the country to make a business for themselves.

It was heartening and saddening at the same time - I can't explain how I felt at recognizing all the old stuff peeping out from between the new. It was a hugely emotional experience - being there after 23 years - and I don't think I can go too long without returning to peel back the cheery cafe signboards to reveal the real Cochin of my childhood.

Quick Refill

2008-07-04T14:56:00.000+05:30

One spoon of bournvita and three spoons of whiskey.
What an idea, Sir ji !!

Ooh my eyes light up - life has meaning again.

A Glass Half Empty

2008-07-02T21:56:00.000+05:30

It's official. Bournvita is addictive. I've been trying to give it up and let me tell you it's traumatic!

What I've drunk almost every night for the last two years is a delightfully comforting concoction of half a glass of cold slim milk (I'm as health conscious as the next person) and four heaped teaspoons of Bournvita. Well three in the milk, and one in the mouth for a more direct approach.

Some of the amazing benefits of my little night-time indulgence:

Peace

Fulfillment

Contentment

Utter joy

BUT NO MORE!

It's been three whole days - 72 hours - since I last partook of this heavenly potion. Each evening brings with it a heavy cloud of depression because I know at the end of it will not stand a shining glass of rich liquid beckoning me with its sweetness.

Alas. Good things don't last.

You know you're working too hard when....

2008-06-25T00:33:00.000+05:30

....you spend five minutes outside your front door rummaging in your bag for your access card.

Candid Camela

2008-06-16T23:06:00.001+05:30

My 4-year-old nephew is amazingly sharp with a camera. He uses his mom's camera phone to take the most unlikely pictures - such as her eye, or someone in motion - and often borrows my digicam to take "only five photos" several times over.

I like this picture he took of my dad for a number of reasons:

My dad doesn't let anyone else take his picture.

This one's natural, not posed for.

The composition is arresting.

The other day my sister told him that he has too many toy cars (probably 700 of them) so he should switch to collecting something different. He promptly said "Camelas".

It's a sign!

2008-06-16T01:28:00.001+05:30

What do the following words mean to you?
Thaba
Thanthuri
Pakoda (point)

I figured out the first one pretty darn quick, cos it was part of a hand-painted sign saying "Punjabi Thaba".
The next one took some thinking. Finally I put two and two together and figured it was Tandoori.
The last one - this is a concept! There were so many variations of this particular sign:
Pakoda Point
Pagota Point
Pakota Point
And finally, Pagoda Point. Phew!

All of these were sighted on the drive from Bangalore to Yercaud.
Every year an Indian kid wins the spelling bee?

Nothing to do with Bliss

2008-06-09T20:46:00.000+05:30

A few weeks back, Bobby and I went to Yercaud (pardon the ghastly spelling, but that's how it is) for the weekend. It's a hill station 220 odd kilometers away from Bangalore, and a rather decent drive. The last hour entails the manoeuvring or 20 hairpin bends (blwack), but the route is scenic enough for you to forgive the nauseating climb, especially if you're used to chaotic Indian metros. Now, don't get overexcited; the view isn't spectacular. I've seen better in Shillong, etc., but like I said, it's such a welcome change from the city.

But the view gets prettier as you climb, and the air is clean, it's green all around, and so peaceful. Didn't hurt that the hotel was lovely. All I could say again and again was "It's so beautiful."

We had a day and a half there - the half was spent looking out over rain lashing the mountains, but Oh so beautiful. I took 156 photographs, including the one here, ate a lot of great food, counted the different shades of green I could see in the trees on the slopes - basically relaxed like I haven't in a long time.

When I came back, I asked someone if they've been there. They said No, cos there's nothing to do. And I thought, That's true. Isn't it perfect?

The Reading Room

2008-06-07T00:16:00.000+05:30

When I moved to Calcutta at the age of 13, the only place I got any privacy was the loo. I used to take a book and seat myself comfortably - as often on the toilet lid as not - and stay in there for an hour or more at a time. My unsuspecting aunt thought I was the most retentive kid she had ever seen and regularly told my mom to introduce more roughage in my diet. Ha. How sweet.
Things have changed since then. I still take a book to the loo, but I can't stand being in there for more than ten minutes. Don't you want to know why?
I have a lot more space now; fewer people to bother me. I can read for as long as I like without being asked to run some errand, or complete a chore. I can read three, four books at a time and leave them lying around without fear of someone snatching them up to read themselves. Talking about reading several books simultaneously - I find it impossible not to do that. Unless the book is extraordinarily gripping, I always read at least two together: one before I go to bed, and the other at other times during the day. This is the book I carry with me when I go to to work; so if I have to take a lunch break on my own, I have words for company. (It's a different thing I don't read it at work.)
The reason I like to read two books at a time is that I like to feel that all aspects of my thinking and feeling are exercised. For example, if I'm reading a work of fiction (Lollipop Shoes - the sequel to Chocolat), I need to balance that with something like Eat Pray Love - real life stuff. If I'm reading Women Who Run With The Wolves, I need a nice little pot boiler to skim through on the side. It makes perfect sense. Ensures balance. I am a balanced person if nothing else. So balanced that a Libran looks contorted next to me! Ha, don't tell my sister!
OK I need to digress for a bit. That little problem my aunt thought I had....well I have it for real now. I'm buying a big fat book this weekend. I need it.

Trees

2008-06-05T00:41:00.000+05:30

I've loved trees ever since I can remember, and when I'm away on holiday most of my pictures end up being of trees. It's a love I share with many women I know, but few men. Is the love of trees a gender thing? I looked up symbolism of trees - there's a lot of information out there about how almost every culture on the planet associates many meanings to trees and forests. The Tree of Life, for example, is a symbol of resurrection, and of a union between heaven, earth and the underworld. Whatever the deeper mythical symbolism, the joy and peace I feel when I am surrounded by the sight, smell and sound of trees is equalled by nothing else in the world.

TV and Dinner

2008-05-28T01:26:00.000+05:30

Two different subjects went to war in my head for possession of this space. I couldn't decide between them so here you have both (plus a random photo from my personal collection):

1. Is VIP the worst TV serial ever made? They've started airing reruns of this one on TV lately (can't be new episodes, surely!) and OH MY GOD are they terrible! There's a fiesty, no-nonsense woman to appeal to guys who like the athletic type; a ditzy blonde who had to be some kind of a computer whiz to contradict all stereotypes to appeal to guys who pretend to like women with brains; another athletic but not so sexy woman to appeal guys who like the understated type; and of course there's the Pamela Anderson in all her gory - I mean glory - to appeal to...umm...errr...uhh...well...guys.

So in this particular episode, Pam is dancing with some dude at a nightclub, and between his Travolta moves, he goes "I could get used to this." I'm like what?? Does he mean he could get used to disco ? To dancing? To disco dancing? What? What does that mean? Anyway, I decide to give them the benefit of the doubt cos I am a nitpicker and often don't see the other person's point of view, especially when it's dumb as hell!! So I watch on, and suddenly Pam falls to the ground on her back with her legs all curled up and starts spinning like the breakdancers do. She goes round and round for about 20 seconds (which is a long time) and all this while the guy is looking down at her the way one would look at a cat with wings. She finally gets up and wobbles unsteadily to the bar hanging onto his arm, where he is hit on by some woman who sidles up to him and says "You are so cute. Call me some time." and hands him her card. He looks at the card, then at her, and says "OK." (Who wrote the dialogues? Who? Who?) Then they leave the nightclub and are peppered with bullets from sudden attackers, but Pam saves the day cos in her haste to duck, she kind of falls and her shoe flies up high in the air and comes down pointed heel first into the main attacker's eye (he somehow happened to be looking up at that very moment!) and many more exciting things happen.

So here's what I think. VIP is a sitcom. A bad one.

2. This dude walks into a deli, where I'm sitting at 8.20 pm enjoying a peaceful salad, and asks for cake. All finished.

He: How can it be all finished? You're a cake shop. How can you not have cake?

Deli worker: mumble mumble

He: This is ridiculous. Everyday by 8 o'clock you run out of cake? This is a cake shop. I need to urgently get a cake for someone.

Deli worker: mumble mumble

He: Who's your manager? I want to talk to him.

Deli worker: mumble mumble

He: I have to let someone know. I came yesterday, some vegetables were over; I come today, cake is over. This is ridiculous.

Deli worker: Jagdish

He: What?

Deli worker: Jagdish.

He: What?

Deli worker: Area Manager.

He: What? Oh Ok. What's his number?

Deli worker: 98....

He (calling from his cell): He's not answering. Do you have a phone?

Deli worker: Not working.

He: Can you give him a message to call me. Who's his boss? Give me his boss's number. I have to talk to someone.

Deli worker: He is only boss.

He: Yes but who is his boss?

Deli worker: There's him only.

He: Yes but he must be reporting to someone. He must have a supervisor. He can't be the owner.

Deli worker: ??????

He: Where is your registered office????

Deli worker: ??????

He: This is ridiculous. You're a cake shop.

Deli worker: ??????

He: How much for 6 of those pastries?

Deli worker: 540.

He: And those?

Deli worker: 360.

He: And the chocolates?

Deli worker: 25 per piece.

He: Give me a box of 6.

Old Friends

2008-05-19T18:24:00.000+05:30

We had old friends over this weekend - My sister and I have known Bunty for the last 21 years, and Rakesh and Bobby have known each other even longer - since they were in primary school I think. We had this huge group that used to hang out during our hormone-charged adolescence and early adulthood. These are the people we broke all the rules with: challenging curfews, smoking out in the balcony when our parents were asleep, covering for each other when we went out on dates, later graduating to partying all night!
We haven't lived in the same city in the past decade, and many things have changed - the biggest ones being marriage and kids; so it was terribly reassuring to see the same personality traits that brought us together all those years ago. We don't smoke anymore, but we still make fun of everyone, including ourselves, and life is in constant digestion when we are together (GAWD how much we eat!!) Looking forward to the next time we meet, hopefully where there's lots of food and drink!!

Not a Slumber Party

2008-05-12T01:33:00.000+05:30

It's been 9 months since I've had something to blog about. To be honest, I'm not sure I have anything to blog about right now either. It's just that I'm awake and I have the time.

I just read an email from my friend in Japan, and was thinking how wonderful it is that people seize opportunities that come their way, take risks and go DO the stuff they want to do, even if it means getting out of their comfort zone. There is so much to be gained from seeing new places, meeting new people, and living a life completely different from the one you are used to. She described a party she'd been to where there was much joke-telling, but all in Japanese, so she missed all of it, but I can bet my last buck she didn't regret going to the party.

I think it's time I went to a party where I don't understand a word of what's being said.

Page 3 Live

2007-08-27T22:42:00.000+05:30

Turned on the news to check on what happened post the Hyd blasts. What do I see? Salman Khan meeting Katrina in this jail, Sanjay Dutt making chairs/tables in that jail, Saif's ex-girl Rosa on the set of some cooking show, SRK talking about Chak De India, etc etc. Ok this is news, but what about REAL news?
30 min of one news bulletin is split 70 - 30 in favour of bollywood, which leaves less than ten min to talk about what impacts regular people across the country.
My dad tells me that many years ago they used to screen short news programmes in cinema theatres before the movie began. Seems like that's happening on the news channels now.

Choices by Autorickshaw

2007-08-23T22:21:00.000+05:30

Bombay, Aug 11.

Bombay auto guy: Let's take the other route, this one's too congested.

Me: Let's stick to this route. This is the one I know.

Bombay auto guy: Look at the traffic ! (pointing to a lane in the distance going the other way.) The other route will be freer.

Me: But.....

Bombay auto guy (zooming down the "other" route): It'll be muuuch quicker.

*Bumper-to-bumper traffic*

Me: Well....there's so much traffic here.

Bombay auto guy: Yes, there's too much traffic all over Bombay.

Me: But you said this route will be free of traffic.

Bombay auto guy: Yes, this route is freer.

Me: But it's not.

Bombay auto guy: Yes, there's too much traffic all over Bombay.

Me: You said this route will be free.

Bombay auto guy: Yes, this route is free.

Me: But there's traffic.

Bombay auto guy: Yes, very bad traffic all over Bombay.

Me: But.........oh what the heck!!

Same to same?

2007-07-27T14:20:00.000+05:30

Don't you think she looks like me?

Excuse me, I want to make a complaint.

2007-07-26T23:36:00.000+05:30

Apart from Nausea by Sartre, and a couple of abortive attempts at reading Kafka, I stayed far away from existential literature. No particular reason - I guess I didn't get angst-ridden till I was in my mid twenties, and by that time I decided that I might as well escape into something pleasant if I must read.

Not sure what struck me after ten years, but found myself looking up Kierkegaard the other day. I loved something I found - this is spoken by a character in Repetition:

How did I get into the world? Why was I not asked about it and why was I not informed of the rules and regulations but just thrust into the ranks as if I had been bought by a peddling shanghaier of human beings? How did I get involved in this big enterprise called actuality? Why should I be involved? Isn't it a matter of choice? And if I am compelled to be involved, where is the manager—I have something to say about this. Is there no manager? To whom shall I make my complaint?

I'm not this grumbly yet, but I so hear this guy!

2007-07-22T01:34:00.001+05:30

sometimes there's nothing to say

Pisces, and addicted.

2007-07-08T00:06:00.000+05:30

The Pisces has an addictive personality - that's what all the sun/moon/star sign people say. I read on a Web site, "If you're a Pisces, you've probably already heard that you share a sign and an addictive personality --with Liz Taylor, Liza Minelli and Kurt Cobain."
We all know what happened to Kurt Cobain; and I'm past his age, so I will not worry about him.
Liza Minelli, I think, is quite ugly, so we'll leave her aside.

Liz Taylor. Hmmm. Here's an interesting woman. Known more for her husbands than for her acting. Is she addicted to wedding ceremonies? Did you know that she didn't divorce all her husbands. She was actually widowed once. Anyway, I digress. Let's figure out what I have in common with Liz T. It's not the husbands for sure. It isn't the awards for acting - she's won 28 awards, including one called Hasty Pudding’s Woman of the Year Award.

Maybe it's the bad back. She's broken her back five times. I haven't broken mine (knock on wood). Well not physically anyway. But I have a weak back, prone to aching and creaking! Perhaps I'll break it sometime in the future. But after reading the above article, I consider myself forewarned. Will watch my back. (Aaargh. The worst pun ever!)

But here are some addictions of my own: Sims, bournvita and cold milk, and poy sian (thai version of vicks inhaler). I'm glad I don't have people addictions. That would be dangerous.

But you know what, tish tosh! I'm happy!

Updates. And a new story.

2007-07-05T19:13:00.000+05:30

First the updates:
I found Sims 2! I found Sims 2! I found Sims 2! I found Sims 2! I found Sims 2! I found Sims 2!

The bloody bat came back!! It flew in again, the ass!! This time I wasn't watching a program on vampires, but it still scared the bejeezus out of me and I dropped my food on the sofa. I promise. One tandoori chicken leg and a whole lot of yoghurt. Bloody fool bat!

New story:
Was in Chennai for a wedding and decided to treat myself to a pedicure the day before the event. Sat in a humongous chair specially built for the purpose - quite uncomfortable, but whatever. Next to me was a swarthy, skinny, mustachioed dude getting a pedicure too. I sniffed in disdain and looked away. But he proved to be quite an interesting character. His phone kept ringing, and the ringtone was a husky female voice going "Hello-o. Hello-oo?" I figured this was reserved for one particular person cos I heard other ringtones too. But that's not all. One time he answers, listens, and says "This is Prince Charles." I'm like WHATTTTT? But I give him the benefit of the doubt and think that it's some Thing he's referring to. But at the end of the conversation he goes "I am Prince Charles." I'm like WHATTTTT all over again. And I look at him and think NO WAY DUDE! But he is. He is Prince Charles.

Sim-ply Tragic

2007-06-19T16:13:00.001+05:30

Hunted high and low for the PC version of Sims 2 and it's not available anywhere in Hyderabad, Bangalore and Cal. Hell it isn't available in New York either - had a friend look up some stores for me.

What am I going to do? I can't play the version I have on the old computer at home cos the computer is so old that it freaks out if I perform more than 3 mouse clicks a minute. I can't install it on the laptop cos the original CD is cracked from explosive over-use and the one I can use to play is an expansion CD from which the game can't be installed.

To think of all those times I picked up the Sims 2 CD at the store and stroked it lovingly and put it back cos I thought i should indulge in more constructive pastimes! If I knew that there would come a stage where the blasted thing would be out of stock, I'd have bought 2!

Well too late for all that now. I am bereft forever. Nothing I say will convince you of the sincere and deep grief I feel at being unable to lose myself in a virtual world where I control everything.

Perception vs Truth

2007-06-16T10:20:00.000+05:30

I feel frustrated when I cannot make another person see my point of view when I'm upset about something. And so irritated by the end of it cos not only am I upset with the "thing" in the first place, but now I can't get the other person to see why. And that's as irritating. Things that are so clear to me (in my head) just don't look the same to the other person. I can't explain cos my feelings are based on a series of hunches, deductions, gut-feel...GRRRRRRRRRRRR
Words fail me at the most important times and I am left fuming at the "thing" and at myself and at life in general.

Was reminded of the movie, Life of David Gayle, where Kevin Spacey says that there are no truths, only perceptions. How true this is. everyone's perception is their reality, which can't really be called a general truth can it? Is there any such thing as individual truth? Something being true for me but not for someone else. Something being real to me but not to someone else? My answer to these questions is Yes. Was also reminded of a spiritual teacher saying that only that which is permanent is true. @#$%^&* What the hell is permanent? Nothing physical for sure! Then? Then? THEN?

Sigh.

The loudest scream

2007-06-11T11:13:00.000+05:30

NatGeo has the best programmes. Was watching one on vampires last night. Since I missed the first part, I'm unsure of whether the extended canines were fake or real. But these people drink blood. They actually do. And they procure their supply not by hunting down some innocent (but voluptuous) maiden - rather, by going to the local butcher store. OK I made that last bit up, but come on, how else? I heard one shiny haired, pasty faced, long toothed drac say that vampires who attack people for blood should be locked up. So my guess that this guy goes to Cutts the butcher may not be way off the mark.

So I was curled up on the sofa with a cushion to hide behind if necessary, listening to the hoarsely whispered descriptions of the dead undead when a huge bat flew into my living room! I swear it did. I screeeeeeaaaamed! Oh my god I have never been so spooked. I thought it had come to get me, and did I mention that the bloody thing (pun unintended) was HUGE?! I was so worried the stupid ass bat would hit the fan and be torn into bits and splatter all over me! I somehow managed to switch the fan off and run into the bedroom when it flew to the other end of the hall. But not before I heard the husband say very calmly "Relax." Relax! Relax he says! He who runs from flying cockroaches a fraction of the size of the bat the size of a cow tells me to relax! Hmph!

Thankfully the stupid bat flew out pretty soon. Dumb ass!

My building is a wild place. First mosquitoes, now bats! If the pests get any larger I'm moving out.

Btw, the husband always says that he doesn't think the flat has positive energy. The previous tenants moved out in 4 months, but we were told they wanted to go back to Delhi cos the dude wanted his old job back. But now I'm not so sure. Maybe a moth terrorised them!

Grrrrr

2007-06-03T11:58:00.000+05:30

A list of things that totally piss me off!

Minor
1. People saying "cope up" and "I think so that..."
2. No spoons at the snack counter when they have idli and sambar at the office cafeteria
3. People not listening when you give them directions
4. Movie tickets not available on weekends unless you've booked two years in advance
5. No Earl Grey tea at Barista

Major
1. People chomping when they eat
2. People not returning phonecalls when they say they will
3. People commenting repeatedly on things you can't change about yourself
4. Bad customer service
6. Bangalore auto drivers

The Lighthouse Effect

2007-05-18T17:37:00.000+05:30

I love lighthouses. I love how they stand out from everything around, and how at night they are visible from miles away.
I looked up some lighthouse symbolism, and most of what I pulled said lighthouses symbolise safety. Well, that's kind of obvious isn't it? I thought I'd find something more subtle and mysterious. Somehow when I look at a lighthouse or a picture of one, it conveys not only strength and reassurance, but also a sense of loneliness, and at a more subtle level, the unmistakeability of loneliness.
Well, I have a remedy for that....
Lighthouse lovers of the world, unite.

Wings at Rest

2007-05-17T19:43:00.000+05:30

So it all came to pass. The blue fairy put away her wings, never to be taken out except to be admired.

Life carried on as usual. Night followed day; shadows became longer.

The blue fairy watched from her window.

Help

2007-05-07T15:39:00.000+05:30

Just moved house and I need a sofa. Someone find me the one in the picture please.

Also the lamp, and the coffee table and the French windows and view outside.

:-)

A long, long time ago

2007-05-03T22:49:00.000+05:30

Remember Aesop? He's the old guy who had a story about everything. Quite a self-righteous fellow, if you ask me. Well, I was reminded of him today cos someone very close tried to tell me something using allegory. OK you're thinking fable, allegory, not the same thing...I know, but that's not the point. Stop digressing.

So this person used a story about some old school friend feeling some old feeling about some old incident that seemed terribly close to what's going on in my life, and I'm thinking hey wait a minute! Are you trying to tell me something? Apparently so, though the body in question wouldn't admit to it. So why the story, I muse. Would I not have been receptive if it had come more directly? Would I have become the problem-solving adult and tried to "fix" something that wasn't really broken? I'm not sure. But the important thing is that I understood what was being conveyed in the guise of an anecdote, and the story-teller was satisfied with my responses.

No prizes for guessing what kind of stories my protagonist grew up on.

Eine kleine nacht musik

2007-04-29T23:37:00.000+05:30

Tell me - if you can - what the following lines mean:

Hallow hallow chick test

Hallow chick test

Chick tessst

That's what I heard 150 decibels loud for five whole minutes outside my house this evening.

Each line was punctuated with a tararam on the african drums.

At the end of the chick tessst, an entire troupe of musicians perched atop a rickety, but carpeted, stage burst into thunderous .... music?

There was a singing duo that belted out local hits at the top of their voice, broadcast to the whole neighbourhood via loudspeaker lest u miss a note.
There were cheers, speeches, crackers, planes overhead, barking dogs, screaming kids, tooting horns.....OH MY GOD, STOP!!! I'LL GO DEAF!!!!

They stopped in three hours.

The chairs were piled up into vans, the carpets rolled and carried away, the mikes taken down.

Peace at last.

It's 11.30 pm - I think I'll turn in.

Oh.

The lights just went out.

Thinking astrologically

2007-04-18T23:32:00.000+05:30

Alright, I admit it. I subscribe to free online horoscope thingies. I even read them everyday, sometimes at the end of the day to see what my day was like. Most times it's crap, but sometimes it's just plain CRAP. Like today's (which I read at 11.39 pm btw) which says "If you try to do things on your own when Pluto is around, it can backfire." Why am I besieged by visions of Mickey's dog suffering a terrible bout of flatulence?

Then there's another one that said I shouldn't flash cash extravagantly today. Well, they should have told me sooner - I just bought two pairs of shoes; but I used my card to pay for them. I don't think that counts.

I'm not sure why I continue to read this stuff. For amusement perhaps? Or am I hoping for a miracle? "Everything you touch today will turn to gold." Or perhaps it's plain escapism. Just for a minute. I've turned it into a fine art - so subtle, I hardly notice any more.

Look What's Talking

2007-04-13T23:37:00.000+05:30

I was in Hyderabad last weekend and was lucky to have the opportunity to attend a reading of the Vagina Monolgues. I am very sophisticated and can use the V word in mixed company. I am so matter of fact when it comes to discussing the anatomy that I don't even blink when someone tells me my eyeballs change colour to match my clothes.

I wish I had been this urbane when my long-ago marwari boss asked the australian consultant whether there would be a lot of laying in the gym; or when the self-same fellow asked if I wanted to travel with my other part (he meant to say better half). I must confess I nearly had an aneurysm both times. I lost five years of my life.

But now things are different. Everytime Mahabanoo Mody Kotwal made us shout the word vagina, I added ten years to my age bank! I will live long and non sequitur.

Gutter Girls

2007-04-07T10:16:00.000+05:30

When my sister and I were growing up, we had
ample opportunity to experience our dad's more multi-faceted nature. The bitter - and often violent - fights my sister and I would get into every 3 hours led the earnest parent down a whole gamut of emotions where he would go from negotiating to stern to cajoling and finally to complete and utter resignation (read fly off the handle!)

It was at one of these turbulent moments that my dad came up with the name that would haunt my sister and I for the rest of our lives. Gutter Girls. His exact words were "All the time you fight like gutter girls!" (Well, as exact as they can be in my memory more than twenty years after the fact.) I remember my sister and I both stopped mid-invective - we were so taken aback.

The name stuck - my sister and I made sure of that. We proudly told any one who'd listen and took great pleasure in using the term on each other whenever we found an opportunity.

Why I say it still haunts us is because this photo that you see here was saved on my sister's computer under the name, gutter girls.

Look at our angelic faces and answer me this. Do we look like gutter girls to you?

Of boys, books and Barbie

2007-03-09T22:24:00.000+05:30

My three year old nephew has made friends with a little boy called Parthib. That's a pretty difficult name to pronounce at any age, right? So it isn't surprising that my nephew uses what is in his mind the closest possible alternative to address his equally young companion.

I remember the time I was working in an interior design firm in Calcutta, where a carpenter was dispatched to collect a book called Exclusiv Wohnen. Obviously this poor, barely literate man could not remember such a complicated name, and came asking for something that in Bengali translates to "19 in 21".

This is the essential nature of the human being. We take something that is unfamiliar, give it a context we can relate to, and hey presto! We have the Indian Barbie. A skinny, blond, blue-eyed doll recoloured to look like....well, Liz Hurley in a sari.

How did I come here from names of people and books? I dunno. Seemed to make sense to me when I started.

Anyway, my nephew calls his friend Rapid.

To kiss a tadpole

2007-01-09T00:18:00.000+05:30

I don't claim to know much about animals, but I can hold my own in a quiz if need be. And I owe a lot of whatever I know to the books of Gerald Durrel. I'm sure many of you've read the most wonderful My Family and Other Animals. I even stole the title for one of my Hyd updates way back when I used to write them.
I'm currently reading one of his books and came across a most interesting piece of animal trivia. There is such a thing as a Paradoxical Frog. It is a type of frog that is born a tadpole that instead of increasing in size as it grows older, works the other way around. The size of the tadpole is about 6" in length, and the body is the size of a large hen's egg. As it grows older, the tadpole shrinks till it becomes a medium-sized frog. Isn't it amazing?
I love Gerald Durrel!

Whump!

2007-01-07T01:28:00.000+05:30

Every so often, on this little race of life, you stumble and fall flat on your face. There's not much you can do except get up, spit the dirt out of your mouth, dust yourself off, and start running again. I wonder if my college mates will remember where I'm quoting the next line from..
"It's a long time we'll be with the two of us crying."

Movie weekend

2007-01-06T20:35:00.000+05:30

Hrithik is to drooool for - I loved him in the bandanna.
Abhishek looked way too ugly in the last scene. But early in the movie, he's shown a series of clips of the robberies committed by the elusive "A" and recognizes a pattern within seconds and predicts the date and location of the next crime.
Aishwarya, like, what's up with her? I never thought the day would come when I thought Bipasha had more substance. If Abhishek marries her I will be totally convinced that he's a jackass! As if the hairband wasn't bad enough!!

On the other hand, there's Casino Royale. There's a chip in Bond's arm that he didn't know was there. Not as smart as our Abhishek, is he? But fills out a suit to perfection. :-)

A Series of Unfortunate Events, or There's a Ghost in My Machine Part II

2007-01-06T20:27:00.000+05:30

It's just so true that nothing will ever convince me otherwise - the ghost in the air-travel system loves to jimmy up my life! My flight from Hyd to Blr was three hours late cos the plane was late taking off from foggy Delhi. Why the flight I want to take between two practically neighbouring cities at one end of the country must be impacted by the weather in a city at the other end is just beyond me! The only logical explanation is - yes, you said it - the ghost in the machine!
Nevertheless, there were quite a few weird and noteworthy things that I happened to observe while I was idling away in the departure lounge:
1. A guy sat reading a Lonely Planet book on Malaysia with it laid out on his knees and him hunched over, his nose about a foot from the page.
2. A guy sitting across from me calling a a number on his cell saying that he's received a missed call on it, and who's speaking please, till he notices his friend gesticulating wildly to him from the other end of the hall signalling that it was he who had called.
3. The same two guys jumping up at the security check announcement and rushing to the boarding gate!
4. Air Deccan, Hyd, announcing that its flight to Hyderabad was ready for departure, and two minutes later amending Hyderabad to Ahmedabad.

I must carry a book in my purse the next time I travel no matter how stuffed it already is!

The New Seer

2007-01-01T18:25:00.000+05:30

Listen up, people. Don't - I repeat - DON'T head straight for the astrology section in bookstores or on the street, looking for your future in 2007. That's all rubbish. All lies. Are you going to let some stranger on a money-spinning trip tell you that your future will comprise exactly the same events as the future of millions of people who share the same zodiac sign? No of course not! You know better than that. You know that only the most qualified person can give you customized and accurate astrological predictions. You know that only a true spiritualist who is in touch with the truth of the cosmos can show you even a glimpse of what your future holds. Yes, you already know that.
So what are you waiting for? Send a blank cheque for made out in my name to my home address. True knowledge about your future is priceless.

Top 5 Misses in 2006

2006-12-31T18:44:00.000+05:30

2006 has been a great year for me, but there are a few things I wish I hadn't done:
1. Watched Fanaa - if you've seen it you know what I mean.
2. Eaten bhel puri at a tiny corner shop in Bangalore - they topped the bhel with peas masala curry !! ewww
3. Gone to CCD three times after I vowed never to ever go there after they gave me hair in my cold coffee - all the three times I regretted going
4. Stayed outside of the French Quarter on my last day in Pondicherry - anything outside the FQ is terrible terrible terrible
5. Washed a FabIndia rug - the black and white pattern went black and black

There were other wild, bizarre things. But I don't regret doing them! Muhuahahahahahaha

The long walk to the loo

2006-12-30T01:16:00.000+05:30

I was going to title my Runa at Work omnibus The Long Walk to the Loo, but I can't wait that long to use this catchy title. I'll use it here cos it's apt.

When we moved to the new and much larger office building in Bangalore, one of the first things I noticed was how far the restrooms are from where I sit. I'd have to start walking five minutes before I absolutely needed to go, or I'd have to break into this embarrassingly eager sprint. To add to that is the shame of knowing that everybody knows just where you're headed when you start walking in that direction.

I faced the same ignominy at the Hyderabad office. The walk to the restroom is equally long, and of course I have to pretend to examine my cell phone so I don't have to look people in the eye and know that they know I go.

But by the third day I devised a strategy. The office is designed (but not for entertainment I assume) like a maze. The twists and turns are quite complicated and if I couldn't use as landmarks the little flags and stuffed toys that people had propped up, I'd be totally lost every time I left my desk. But this complex system of lefts and rights actually worked in my favour. I figured that if I take a different route each time I go to the loo, I would not come face to face with the same people more than once in a day. This way I wouldn't need to stare at my cell phone for no reason.

It works like a charm. I now smile and nod at people I pass en route. How do you do? Splendid day, isn't it?

The Expressive Indian

2006-12-28T23:35:00.000+05:30

The average Indian uses 31 different facial expressions and hand gestures in a single day. These figures were compiled by the RSI (runa statistical institute) in Dec 2006. And these expressions and gestures change from region to region. Let us discuss the "asking a question" gesture.
In the North, it involves cupping and moving the invisible (and usually absent) contents of the hand repeatedly from side to side - YUCK! In the South, I've seen some people use the over-the-shoulder pointing thumb when they ask questions. Sometimes the question isn't verbalised - there's only the vigorous "look what's behind me" gesture! Now how am I to guess what that means? It's as removed a sign of questioning as my place in Hyderabad is from the office!
But by far the most bizarre gesture is the one that could mean "wait just a few minutes" or "give me five minutes" or even - when used by the guy who's cutting into the traffic line in front of you - "excuse the intrusion but there's nothing you can do anyway". It has the doer looking like he/she is testing the viscosity of a pear-shaped silicon implant (before the surgery, I must clarify!!)
Very disconcerting. Especially when used by the doorman of the restaurant that I want to dine at.

Is this me?

2006-12-23T19:19:00.000+05:30

Look at what happens the minute my back is turned !!

This caricature was drawn from a photograph and a few people's (I'm yet to figure who) description of the kind of person I am.

So is this how everyone sees me?

Where's my nosering?

Look at the eyes and the hair!

What's with the smiley earrings?

And DIVA ???

What eet ees?!

Alt tab

2006-12-21T23:54:00.000+05:30

This isn't really the dramatic escape pulled off in the Shawshank Redemption, but a nice-to-know piece of info that'll come in handy the next time you're in a five-star slammer.

The (bleeeep) hotel has a strange variation in the price of coke/pepsi within the hotel - the price of the coke/pepsi in your mini bar is almost double that of the same from prison room service.

Absolutely no reason for this kind of brutality, is there?

Here's the secret plan for revolt (so secret noone will even notice the revolt):

1. Drink up from the mini bar whenever you want

2. Order corresponding number of drinks from room service

3. Restock mini bar before warden's next inspection.

4. Pay lesser-but-still-hugely-inflated price

5. Smile on your way out into the sunshine

This really works. A recently released inmate told me.

Heave ho

2006-12-17T22:32:00.000+05:30

I love Mocha, the coffee shop in Hyderabad and in Mumbai - but they should post a warning saying that cranes aren't available inside.

Those of you who've been there know that the floor seating is really comfortable with all the padded walls and plump cushions - but have you tried getting up after you've got a couple of chicken slovaki wraps and choco lattes in you? Mannn!! To top it off I was wearing a skirt and heels.

I spent the last half an hour that I was there worrying about how I would make a graceful exit. I was glad when most of the people around me left; but just when it was time for me to leave, in came a couple of guys who just had to sit at the next table. I came up with the best plan under the circumstances.

I swept my legs round to my side, knelt on the floor, and rose up off my haunches with some support from the coffee table. Luckily my skirt didn't get caught in my heel (like has happened before), and I managed to balance myself perfectly while rising (unlike what has happened before). I used to be known for my random rear-ending. Me hopes those days are behind me!

Suggestion to Mocha: Since the decor includes many brilliantly (read garishly) coloured things hanging from the ceiling, it wouldn't be too difficult to disguise a thick metal crane. Could just be painted gold or something. What would be better is if it were mechanised!

Wishlist

2006-12-17T01:40:00.000+05:30

Quiet mind
Contentment in solitude
Clarity of thought
Self-awareness
Direction
Detachment
Closure
Time and space
Mind over matter
Mind over heart
Mind over people
Mind over myself

Most of all, Freedom from want

Written, produced and directed by Runa

2006-12-17T01:01:00.000+05:30

This might not come out right. The conversation I am going to recount happened in two phases - the first in the office foyer between the security guard and a foreign visitor; the second, immediately after the first, just outside in the courtyard, between this foreign visitor and his equally foreign companion.
I wish for the hundredth time that I could record this and leave a link for you to click on and listen, but if you follow the stage directions and read out loud, some of the beauty of the moment might come through. Else, wait till you meet me - I'll enact.

Read the security guard's part out loud in a South Indian accent; and both foreign visitors' parts with a soft "t" like the "th" in teeth, and stress on the first part of the words. Make sure you intone the punctuation and the mood stamps that I've provided.

Guard: It will come in fifteen minutes.
Visitor # 1 (making sure he heard right): Fifteen minutes?
Guard (nodding earnestly): Fifteen minutes.

Visitor # 1 (like he finally has the answer): Fifteen minutes.
Visitor # 2 (hopefully): Fifteen minutes?
Visitor # 1(reassuringly): Fifteen minutes.

So why am I making a big deal of this conversation? Many reasons.
First, I love the succintness of it, and how the intonation conveys so many meanings from the same two-word phrase.
Second, the accents were so wonderful. Such differences in the pronunciation of the same words.
Third, the two visitors had similar accents, but were probably not from the same country (would they have been speaking English with each other if they were?), and definitely not from English speaking countries - so it was very interesting to hear them communicate with each other.
I love voices and accents and interactions between people. I wish I could turn this into work!

And if this didn't entertain you like it did me, well tish tosh !!

City on the rocks

2006-12-16T13:06:00.000+05:30

I didn't realize how much I missed the Hyderabad landscape till I came back. I think it is by far the most beautiful city I have lived in in India, and I have lived in four.

I love the rocks, and the way many houses lie on the hilly slopes rather than cut into the incline; the way most roads have a lush, green plant-filled divider in the middle; the view you get from even the third floor of any building. I could look out onto these views for hours. It's good that I don't have a window where I sit in the office - I'd never get any work done.

It's sad that there is a dangerously high degree of quarrying going on. I fear that Hyderabad might soon be flat as any old boring place. But till then, I will enjoy finding and losing cell-phone signal when I'm travelling literally up and down Banjara Hills road # 1.

I've found one more thing that helps cure my blues.

There's a ghost in my machine

2006-12-14T20:06:00.000+05:30

Have any of you ever felt persecuted by a machine? You know what I mean - some people can never get a printer to work, or fax machine, or something...
I'm terrorised by the anything-to-do-with-air-travel system. I thought it was co-incidence when two flights I was scheduled to take got cancelled one after another; but then another airline stopped servicing an entire route the day after I wanted to fly that way; and most recently, the ground staff of a third airline said that I had some payments due on a ticket that I had bought online through a credit card.
So what is this? NOT a co-incidence.
I think there's an evil brain in the system. Everything runs smoothly till it senses my name somewhere. And it goes, wait a minute. there she is, that little hopeful. let's give her something to remember us by.
And it goes MUHUAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
And all the independent whirring and clicking stops.
Every signal concentrates on me.
The troops gather.
Close in.
And without warning,
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT !!

We regret to announce flight XX XXX has been cancelled.....

Bruised Bananas

2006-12-11T23:08:00.000+05:30

If you saw an advertisement that said "Do you suffer from Bruised Bananas?", what would you think?
Surely they aren't talking about the fruit!! Surely they aren't selling something that allows you to store the fruit without it turning black!!
I saw the ad in my gmail, but was too scared to click. Someone be adventurous and let me know.

no boy scout

2006-12-09T09:43:00.000+05:30

i was the kind of child that studies one day before the examination. always managed to do well despite that, but methinks my past has caught up with me.
have to travel for work on monday, but dunno address of new office in the wonderful city of hyderabad.
i'm armed with phone number of colleague who's travelling separately, a number that might or might not be roaming!
my plan is to get there and figure things out.
oh, and i also don't know if a desk has been assigned to me. might have to stand for two weeks.

diagnosis # 13

2006-12-06T23:35:00.000+05:30

every so often i am surprised at something new i find out about myself.
i learned in the past few days that i dislike change.
this from me! me who moved cities twice in the past two years; moved residence twice in the past one year; drawn into my life people who are as different from me as shatrughan sinha is from steven seagal -
i get used to something and i want to leave cos it scares me to depend on familiarity. so i move. and i hate it cos i know that it won't be long before i get used to that, and i have to move again.
what a strange, convoluted cycle! imagine moving cos you hate change.
i'm nuts.

replacement therapy

2006-12-05T23:13:00.000+05:30

haven't found a cure for the blues but definitely have something that goes a significant way in making me feel better.
it's a spongy, cube-shaped, cream layered, cherry-covered little something that feels heavenly on its way down.
what's even better is if it's accompanied by a chocolate-swirled steaming mug of aromatic coffee.
like a good friend once said, if you want a warm comfortable feeling inside, get yourself a cappuccino. those mightn't have been the exact words, but the meaning is as close as can be.
none of this is a substitute for a kind word, but it sure is easy to turn to.

blues

2006-12-05T00:05:00.000+05:30

been feelin rather blue lately - checked out what google had to say and i saw a sign. welcome to depression(.com) it said, and i said, "why, thank you kindly. it's a pleasure to be here."
i didn't visit that site despite the friendly welcome, though i did take a test elsewhere to see how much i knew about depression. i scored 81%. i know stuff.
of all the symptoms of depression that i found listed, i currently display the following:
- constant feelings of sadness, irritability, or tension
- a change in sleeping patterns, such as difficulty sleeping, early morning awakening, or sleeping too much
that's two out of a possible ten. well, i guess i'm not depressed then.

I'll just sing...

When her days all run the same
And she says she thinks she needs a change
Maybe your baby's got the blues

three strange things yesterday

2006-12-03T23:29:00.000+05:30

1. on the drive from my place to my sister's, the auto stops at a traffic signal, and i hear a strange, low-pitched hnnananahnnannanahnanna emanating from the general directon of the auto driver; this accompanied by a rapid clicking. i don't see the driver's lips move, i don't see anything else in the vicinity that the sound could be coming from. the light changes to green, and the hnnananahnnannanahnanna stops. the next red light, the same low drone. it was definitely the driver, and i figure he was chanting something, and keeping count of the number with what sounded like that click thing from the Axe advertisement. weird.

2. a man on a bike wearing a helmet with a visor and everything; a white and grey office-type shirt; a saffron lungi; barefoot.

3. the security guard outside leena's place all wrapped up in a blanket, lying on a platform, with his head four inches above the ground propped up by nothing.

signs

2006-12-02T00:59:00.000+05:30

when you come back from work and see clothes hanging on makeshift lines in the corridor to your apartment; and your kitchen light on, and more clothes hanging on lines; and you storm off towards your landlord's place to complain; and realize just in the nick of time, that you're on the wrong floor:
you're working too hard.

white flag

2006-11-30T21:39:00.000+05:30

passed this strange white garment hanging from the neighbouring roof.
careless people! don't they know when one of their clothes are missing from the clothes-line?
perhaps they have so many clothes that it really doesn't matter if one disappears. what waste, i say! in a country where poor kids roam around naked and unfed, these types take their belongings for granted.

passed it by again.
it was my white shirt.
wonder when i washed it.
at least a month ago.