BITTER CHOCOLATE

Neanderthal Man: Bitchfest Episode 2

2012-01-20T11:39:00.000-08:00

After a long time, here I present to you the next version of Bitchfest. Been a long time coming, but then I am such a sweet and tolerant person that it really takes a lot to infuriate me ;-) (oh, the sarcasm and irony! Especially when I have documented here my long time struggle to conquer anger). Anyway, I digress. Lets go back to the point of this post, ranting ;-)

So I recently had the (mis)fortune to meet this guy. And he has been kind enough to express some of his views about women and their "duties" to their husbands. He often talks about how women need to cook for their husbands, no matter whether women work or not. After all, it is a woman's duty to cook for the poor guy, since he can not be expected to do so himself. When I tried to point out to him that maybe this thought process was not completely correct- men need to contribute too- he shot back at me, so don't you cook for your husband? Since of course, in his mind, that was the clinching argument.

A few days ago, I met him again as part of a large group, and he started talking about how men work so much more and have more tension in their lives, as compared to women/ wives! Oh well! Men who work less hours than their wives, come home sooner, and sit on the couch watching TV, waiting for their wives to come home and cook and clean. When we (me and some other infuriated women in the group) told him that actually working women work a lot more- since we work both at home and office- he said that of course we could give up working. Outside the home. Not that men could contribute more so that women's lives could be a bit easier, but women who had problems handling both should just give up work. He then added after all, that it is the wife's duty to take care of the husband. Since men work outside the home (and of course, women need not).

Now, this guy is planning to get married soon, and his parents are looking for a girl for him. So he was talking about that, and said that he was ambivalent about marriage, because, once married, he could no longer party/ hang out with friends (yes, that was his reason!). So I suggested that he could party with his wife, and/or take her to the party with friends. His answer- of course I can not, because she would not drink. So I asked her how did he know she would not drink, since he has yet to meet anybody. Well, he answered, because obviously the girl my parents find will not drink. Okay, fair enough, so I suggested that he could initiate her into drinking socially. To which he responded that it was better if she did not drink!!

After that, I just gave up talking to him.

All this, coming from a decently educated guy working in the US. It is saddening, disappointing, but most of all, infuriating. Is this a problem peculiar to Indian men? Who grew up so mollycoddled and worshipped by their families that they don't think helping their wives in housework is important? More so in the US where there is nothing like household help? Who think that it is a wife's duty, DUTY, DUTY (I feel like screaming that word) to take care of the husband? Whatever happened to taking care of each other? Wasn't that what marriage was supposed to be? Where does this sense of utter entitlement come from?

Fat but not Powerless!

2012-01-04T18:23:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, I saw this Indian movie called “Desi Boyz”. And I have been seething ever since at one particular dialogue in the movie. Of course, I probably should not expect even a modicum of sense from such an inane movie, yet I am completely and totally incensed by this one thing. In the movie, the good for nothing dumb and useless male protagonist goes back to school (since he could not be bothered to finish first time around) and one of his classmates of earlier days is now his Economics professor. She obviously harbors a huge crush on our macho man, and sets out to get him. He fails to recognize her in the beginning, because she was ugly and fat, with braces etc. when they had last met. This time around though, she has metamorphosed into a super-duper hot attractive smart babe to end all hot babes. And she says to him, (I quote here) “last time we met, mai moti aur bechari thhi. Par ab this is not so” (or some such claptrap to that effect).

Right. “Moti aur bechari” (fat and powerless). That is how fat people are perceived. That is how fat people perceive themselves. Because being fat renders you helpless, powerless, useless!! Can you even think of something more self-esteem annihilating? What self-worth do we talk about when we buy into this idea that being fat makes us powerless? What about being smart and intelligent- the woman in question was smart enough to be an Economics professor at Oxford, for heaven’s sake!- and all she could say was that she was fat and powerless. She still had the same brains, if inside a fat body.

Yes, I know that this is the ugly truth. That being fat is perceived as ugly, powerless, as something/ somebody to be looked down upon. Fat people buy into this idea as much as everybody else. This is something that is ingrained in our culture. Beautiful is thin, and vice versa. Beauty may be only skin deep but we live in a shallow world.

As a fat person who has had self-worth issues all her life, I know the pain. I know how difficult it is to maintain a modicum of dignity. To find some shreds of self-esteem in the annihilated remains of self. I have been there and am still struggling. To believe that my complete sense of self does not come from how much I weigh. That I am a smart, intelligent and good person who deserves a good life.

It is not easy to accept myself. To forgive myself. To love myself. People who have never had to struggle with being fat don’t know the pain. It is not merely the physical aspect, but an entire societal and cultural construction. And fighting, not for acceptance, but for the right to live a life that brings us dignity and self-respect is something that we all deserve. Being fat does not render us automatically powerless. We have to fight this mindset in our culture, but first and foremost, battle our own inner devils of doubt and anger and pain. I am my own greatest enemy, my own lack of self-worth allows me to feel powerless.

Which is why I am angry at this movie. Because they brainlessly translate being fat with being powerless. The two are not the same. In fact, it is against all human dignity and self-respect to even think so. As Eleanor Roosevelt had once said, “Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent”. And yes, we consent. We agree that we really do not deserve better. We agree to be powerless.

Today, this is what I want to start my New Year thinking. That I may be fat, but I am not powerless. Or helpless. Or useless. I am good, and powerful, and yes, even beautiful. Mai bechari nahi hoon!

(Image Source: http://mindset.yoursabbatical.com/2009/04/17/susan-boyle-gives-a-dream-some-welly-and-your-pathetic-life-comes-into-view/)

Musings on Validation

2011-11-20T22:01:00.001-08:00

So I was wondering today about this deep rooted, deep seated need for validation that we, as mere mortals, have. How deep seated and deep rooted it is, depends on each of us as individuals. Our upbringing, life, circumstances, gender, society and culture all influence the depth and intensity of this atavistic desire. Or is it just me, who has this intense need for validation of self?

From what dark void inside me does this need arise? And why is it so intense? More to the point, why is it focused on external systems and means of validation? Oh yes, I have done enough self-introspection and psychoanalysis to know the answer. Still I struggle with the answers. Still it is not enough.

I have realized that seeking external validation, and getting it, is a mere drug. An addiction of sorts, that satisfies the occasional craving. Can an intermittent high from an ephemeral compliment even come close to satisfying what is, what has become, an eternal need? Yet I question the very existence of this need, if not its existence, atleast its strength.

Time and again I have seen this inside me, time and again I have realized the one painful truth, that I am not good enough for myself. Why seek external validation, if my internal validation was enough? What lack inside me, that my self-belief is weak and wavering? What depths do I plumb to find inside me worth and confidence in my self?

I know that is the answer. I need to believe more in my own abilities, my own choices, my own self, my own identity. It is only internal validation that will lead to lessening of doubt, fulfilment of self, and the ability to traverse life more confidently. Because internal validation is not ephemeral, not fleeting, not occasional. It is this deep abiding faith in oneself, this deep love for self that gives joy, fulfilment and freedom.

Yes, there is emptiness...as the line of one of my favorite songs goes, ...ik khalish hai hawaaon mein bin tere...(there is an emptiness in the air without you...). But the only person who can fill this void is me. I need to be there for myself. In this time when doubts rage, when things change, when I question my very worth and value. I need to tell myself that I am good enough. Not for the outside world, not for people, not for family, not for friends. I am good enough for myself.

The Indian Socio-Cultural Dynamics of Eating Out Alone (OR a 12 Year Old Rant)

2011-11-09T15:46:00.000-08:00

I’m talking about a long ago India here, and I have no idea whether this exists anymore. Eating out alone in the US is not a big deal, indeed it is the culturally acceptable norm. It is perfectly okay to sit and eat alone at some place- in fact, it is expected in some of the café/bakery sort of places. Where one can sit, eat, ruminate, read, write or Internet surf endlessly. And nobody will blink an eyelid.

As I was eating my lunch today- alone, mind you- I recalled an incident that had occurred almost twelve years or so ago. Obviously, it still rankles, since that is one memory that I have never forgotten. Chinese (Indo-Chinese) food was new on the Indian horizon at that time and I absolutely loved it. There was this one Chinese place near my undergrad school that we would often visit, named Golden Dragon (what else!). Once, I was craving that particular place, food and taste so badly that I just could not stop myself and decided to go there without further delay. Most of my friends were out of town, so I went alone.

I sat there and ate the most wonderfully unhealthy MSG laden vegetarian hot-and-sour soup and Manchurian (dishes that nobody in China has ever heard of). I suddenly heard a really snarky voice at my adjacent table say loudly … “mujhe pata nahi log baahar akele kaise khaa lete hain” (I don’t understand how people can eat out alone). Spoken out loudly enough to make sure I heard. I still remember the disdain in that voice.

I’ve never forgotten that incident. Almost every time I eat out alone, I recall this. I wonder what was going on in that person’s mind as he said this. I wish I had said something. I wish I had not been hurt. I wish I could meet him again and give him a resounding slap! I was just satisfying a primal urge- to eat some delicious food that I was craving. I wish I had not felt bad about doing this one thing I wanted to do for myself.

Eating out alone- especially for a girl, ye heavens! - was overstepping certain circumscribed societal norms. It wasn’t accepted, it wasn’t common, and hence it was worth commenting upon. Indian cultural norms are defined, created and delineated to keep women in their place, inside. The outside is seen as the site of potential breach, be it of norms, principles or people. Indian women, as the moral and physical upholders of Indian culture, are not allowed to breach anything. Be it norms, principles or boundaries. Be they physical, socio-cultural or psychological.

I can only hope things are different now. From what I hear about the new India, I sure hope that women can go and eat out alone as, when and where they want. All the Chinese, Italian, Thai, Japanese, Vietnamese, American, even Indian food that they want to eat. Without the world judging them in any way. Next time this happens to me, I’ll make sure I dump the bowl of soup on the speaker’s head.
No matter how delicious it is.

Image sources:

http://pandasprefermenthols.wordpress.com/2011/02/16/table-for-one-please/

http://www.tower.com/table-for-one-mark-hose-paperback/wapi/112359022

Blog Anniversary Post: Six years together

2011-11-03T18:05:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine today mentioned that she wanted to start her own blog. So we were talking about it, and I was reminiscing about the day I started this blog. And suddenly it struck me, it was on THIS VERY DAY, six years ago. Yes, this blog was born on November 03, 2005. Went back in time (to the first ever post) and checked. Indeed, the first post was on November 03, 2005. Just "Testing" :-)

So many memories and moments came flooding back. I was extremely new to the US at that time, had been here only for about two months. Was lonely and miserable and had no friends and wanted to go back. That is how this blog was born. Since I had nobody to talk to, I decided to talk to this space. My blog, my friend that would listen to all my rants and pain and sorrow and share it with me.

That is indeed what has happened. We have come a long long way together, since that fateful day six years ago. My blog has always been the repository of my emotions, thoughts, feelings, expressions and rants. It has stayed with me through my highs and lows. It has been a true hamsafar of sorts, growing and evolving as my thoughts and I evolved. It has been both my aks and aaina...

I was wondering why it is not called a blog birthday, but a blog anniversary. And then I realized, that it is a day that we both came together. It marks an important milestone for both of us. So here is wishing us both a happy anniversary, and many many more years of sharing and togetherness!

(Image Source: http://www.dianebrowningillustrations.com/2011/03/my-blogs-birthday.html)

It's only Words...

2011-09-29T14:21:00.000-07:00

Writing is an essential life task for me, something that is very important for me as it gives me the vent I need to maintain my self and sanity. It is also my most important medium of self-expression. If I have not written for a long time, I feel restless, as if all the words stored inside of me will bubble out incoherently, toppling over each other in their haste to escape the confines of my mind and heart. I feel the incessant urge to write, to express my thoughts and feelings. And this blog is my one way of doing so, of arranging all those words in a semblance of coherence, of permutations that allow for self-expression and revelation. Words are a precious resource, our only commodity of exchange that we use to create mutual understanding and empathy.

Oftentimes, I talk to people who tell me that they don’t write (or read) much. And I can only think of the wealth they are missing. Isn’t everything we do, say, feel… just words? All my joys and sorrows, all my feelings, thoughts, ideas, expressions, sentences, pain, love, hate, emotion… aren’t words the only way to say it all? Even though, in the immortal words of Jagjit Singh, kaun kehta hai ki mohabbat ki zubaan hoti hai, ye haqeeqat to nigaahon se bayaan hoti hai…

The entire internet is based on only words. It is all about content- words that grip, entrance, captivate! Nowadays, a lot of my reading is on the internet, blogs and thoughts and articles of people. And I can’t help but admire them, people who use words to such effect. Who create and influence using words written somewhere on the internet. The writing can be inspirational, effective, motivational, controversial- whatever. But it makes me think. It creates an impact. I am the kind of person to whom words matter, be they written or spoken.

That’s what Twitter is, isn’t it. We click and read stuff we like and if we really like it, we retweet it because we want the world to read the same amazing stuff. We only follow people whose words we like to read. We read blogs we like and identify with. We link to articles that are good.

The power of words is endless. Words are a double-edged sword, while they can uplift and motivate, influence, they can also tear and rent apart, they can destroy and annihilate. They make us laugh and cry. Words are the only means we have to communicate- and if we stop communicating, the world ends right there. Words can be a bridge and a chasm. Words can be everything and nothing. Words can bind forever and break forever. And yet, words are all we have.

Of course, you know where this is leading. Towards It's Only Words. Because words are truly all we have. To tell each other everything. To listen to. To understand and feel and empathize and take our hearts away….

http://www.youtube.com/user/Boyzonegreatesthits#p/u/20/w_Rut4qm33g

(Image sources: 1. http://telling-secrets.blogspot.com/2011/06/words-fail.html

2. http://januscastrence.deviantart.com/art/115-words-of-LIFE-152755216)

Guest Post: Poetry and Thoughts

2011-09-08T16:54:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I had written this blogpost, Lost. A friend of mine really liked the post, and was inspired to pen down some of her own thoughts about life. She sent me this beautiful poem, that I am posting below. Thanks a lot for this, Vandana. And I hope to have more guest posts from you in the future :-)
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By Vandana Toreti

Zindagi ke teedhe-medhe, kabhi janne kabhi anjanee,
rastoon ko tai karte karte hum umar ek padav se doosre par pahuch jate hain

Mausam ki tarah zindagi bhi badalti hai rang,
Kabhi khushi de jati hai, kabhi gum chod jati hai,
Kuch naye rishtee jud jatein hain, kuch appne kho jatein hain

Zindagi ke teedhe-medhe, kabhi janne kabhi anjanee,
rastoon ko tai karte karte hum umar ek padav se doosre pahuch jate hain

Mushkilen aur kathinayi jo kabhi hum se juda hotee thein,
Woh jaane pechane se lagne lagte hain,
Humari himmat ki pariksha leti hui yeh zindagi hume kahan se kahan le aati hai

Zindagi ke teedhe-medhe, kabhi janne kabhi anjanee,
rastoon ko tai karte karte hum umar ek padav se doosre pahuch jate hain

Duniya ke bhool bhulaiye mein,
Kabhi girte, kabhi uthe, kabhi fisalte,
kabhi sambhalte huye hum khud ko bhulakar aage nikal padtein hain
Mud kar aapne aks ko dekho tho lagta hai ki kya hum wahi hain

Zindagi ke teedhe-medhe, kabhi janne kabhi anjanee,
rastoon ko tai karte karte hum umar ek padav se doosre pahuch jate hain

Yeah raste bhi aajane se hain, yeh log bhi ajnabi se hain,
Aur hum is anjane duniya ki anjani rastoon par nikal pade hain
Apni hai sirf mann ki shakti aur upwarwale par bharosa,
Ki woh rasta dikayega aur mazil tak pahuchayega...
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The Road less Traveled: Cross-cultural Entrepreneurship

2011-08-19T10:19:00.000-07:00

“It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities,” said Dumbledore to Harry in the book, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. This quote has stayed with me over the years, as I navigated my way through the myriad pathways of life. Dumbledore was talking about choosing to do the right thing under trying circumstances. Even though very often, the right thing turns out be the more challenging choice.

As I started work at a start-up recently, I was reminded of Dumbledore’s words. What made people choose to start their own companies? What made them give up comfortable and cushy jobs to bet their lives, savings, and family life- all on some nebulous dream of a better future? The answer could not merely be Dumbledore’s words, wise though they were. So I started reading up on entrepreneurship. On why the choices founders made were the choices they made. Was this really the right thing to do? And if so, right for whom?

Considerable research has been done on entrepreneurship in recent years, especially in Silicon Valley, CA. Dr. Wadhwa (2009) conducted extensive research to find the ‘anatomy of an entrepreneur’. Dr. AnnaLee Saxenian also conducted research exploring the nexus between immigrants and entrepreneurship in the Valley. Both of them agree that educated and skilled immigrants not only bring abundant talent to the country, but as entrepreneurs, are also responsible for wealth and job creation. As an immigrant myself, I could relate to some of the attributes of social and ethnic networks that Dr. Saxenian (2002) talks about, that foster immigrant growth

Dr. Wadhwa’s research shows that there are about double the percentage of Indian entrepreneurs than the next closest foreign-born category (3.8% vs.1.7%). Simultaneously, his research also uncovered that the single most important attribute that needed to be inherent in an entrepreneur was the ‘ability to take risks’. As much as 98% of the respondents ranked the lack of willingness to take risks as the greatest barrier to entrepreneurship. Another important attribute was the ability to adapt and change (Wadhwa et al, 2009).

As I pondered these findings, I could see an obvious behavioral pattern emerge. Most immigrants, before they turn entrepreneurs, already have successfully started-up their own lives in a new culture and country. These highly educated and skilled valuable members of society have already once given up comfortable lives, friends, family and supporting social structures to carve out a new life in a new socio-cultural setting. They set out to achieve everything anew starting from scratch, and mostly succeeded. I know how difficult this is from personal experience: even after so many years here, I am still struggling to recreate my sense of cultural and professional identity.

Dr. Saxenian, in her research, talks about strong cultural and ethnic networks that in turn lead to professional growth. A number of ethnic associations have also grown to support co-ethnic entrepreneurs. A strong sense of ethnic and cultural identity binds this group together. Similarly, Wadhwa talks about how friends and family provided funding for up to 16% of startups. Wadhwa goes on to elaborate on the importance of family/ spousal support in successful entrepreneurship. This is in accordance with Hofstede’s cultural dimension of Individualism vs. Collectivism, with both Chinese and Indian cultures rating high on the collectivist scale. Since we already know that familial support is essential to entrepreneurship (about 73% of respondents in Wadhwa’s research said that was an issue), and collectivistic cultures provide more of that support, we can infer a causal correlation that gives Asian cultures an entrepreneurial edge.

While the single biggest motivation for start-ups was the creation of wealth, Wadhwa’s work also uncovered that innovation motivated over 68% of founders. The founders wanted to get a good idea to fruition. This translates into attempting to make a positive contribution to the world at large. To solve a small problem in your area of expertise that makes life better for some people- or at least, try to make life better for some people, also motivates a large number of thinker-founders. This desire to make a positive change to the world and to do the right thing in the face of easier choices is what life is all about, not just entrepreneurship.

Therefore, one can make the obvious connections that emerge after reading all the research. I do think that immigrants are innate risk-takers. Having taken and successfully navigated the cultural, social, physical and mental trans-country divide, increases one’s inherent capacity to take risks. To take yet another leap of faith. In the immortal words of Robert Frost, to yet again choose the road less travelled. And hopefully, to make all the difference.

Bibliography
1.Rowling, J.K.(1999). Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Arthur. A. Levine Books.
2.Saxenian, AnnaLee (1999). Silicon Valley’s New Immigrant Entrepreneurs. Public Policy Institute of California.
3.Saxenian, AnnaLee, et.al. (2002). Local and Global Networks of Immigrant Professionals in Silicon Valley. Public Policy Institute of California.
4.Wadhwa, V., et.al. (2009). The Anatomy of an Entrepreneur: Making of a successful entrepreneur. Ewing Marion Kaufman Foundation.
5.Wadhwa, V., et.al. (2009). The Anatomy of an Entrepreneur: Family Background and Motivation. Ewing Marion Kaufman Foundation.

Image source:http://www.iedp.com/Blog/Five_million_euro_donation_Maag_Entrepreneurship

Judgment and Opinion

2011-07-19T14:21:00.000-07:00

It is a truth, universally acknowledged… no actually; it is nothing of the sort. I just felt like starting this blog post with Austen’s most famous quote ever. But indeed, it is true that we perceive and experience that as people get older, they tend to become more opinionated and judgmental. More rigid and inflexible in their thoughts, ideas and ways of doing, being, thinking.

However, the exact opposite has happened to me. As I get older, I realize that I am getting mellower. I am more forgiving of people’s faults and transgressions. I make and accept excuses for them- be it for any reason. In my brash and unforgiving youth, mostly everything was black and white. Either bad or good. I did not give anybody the benefit of doubt. I branded people and slotted them and that was it.

Now, as I have grown older and wiser (hopefully) I see that there are extenuating circumstances in a lot of situations. I have no idea what kind of pain, stress or troubles the other person is belaboring with. Life throws us curveballs and lemons and brickbats and everything in between, especially when we least expect it. Each of us reacts differently to the pain and stress. The pain may explode in any way, shape or form- and who cares who is in the way when the explosion occurs!

The single reason why I have become more forgiving and understanding of people is that I have seen and faced some really tough situations in the last few years. And have not always reacted well. I have understood that people do bad things when in bad situations. It is impossible to do and be good when difficult things and situations occur. I am more empathetic because of my experiences. I can condone almost anything now- maybe, just short of rape or murder.

This new mellow me set me thinking. Does this happen to all of us as we get older? Maybe not. Why not? Here, I formulated my own opinion. I think that if we have had a relatively easy life, we tend to be more judgmental. And if we have faced tough times and tough situations, we tend to be more forgiving. I have also seen this borne out in a lot of people. I was like this myself a long time ago. Having had a very easy and sheltered life in India, I was extremely judgmental and opinionated. Also, I had the overbrimming brashness and confidence of youth. But it all exploded in my face after I got to this country. I’ve faced some really difficult challenges and demons, both inside and out. I’ve reacted and behaved in the most unexpected and awful of ways.

And you know what- I’m not sure the earlier me would have forgiven myself. Understood or empathized or sympathized. But this me has realized that yes, there are extenuating circumstances in lots of cases. Anything can happen to any of us anytime. If the bad things do not happen, consider yourself blessed. But people with easy lives become opinionated or judgmental.

So that’s my opinion. Not only with myself, but I have seen this time and again with people around me. The easier our life, the more prone we are to judging others. The more we go through the agni-parikshas of life, the more mellow and soft we become. But of course, the new mellow me will not judge you and call you judgmental. I can understand where you’re coming from ;)

Book Review: If Today Be Sweet

2011-06-21T13:32:00.000-07:00

Posting after a long time, here is review no. 5 for the South Asian Reading challenge. I read another few South Asian books in the interim, and will post here soon. In fact, my backlog is about four books already read and not yet written about! I better hustle and bustle. Here is today’s book.

Title: If Today be Sweet
Author: Thrity Umrigar
ISBN: 978-0061240232
Pages: 296
Publisher: William Morrow
Genre: Multicultural, Drama, Indian

Review: I have read almost all of Umrigar’s books, and loved them all. However, I was wary of reading this one, actually more scared than wary. There are some books that force us to look at the questions and quandaries of our own lives, which hit too close to home to be comfortable or acceptable. This book seemed the same to me. I am completely torn about the India vs. US issue- where to live long term. Where to work, what to do, where will I find more happiness? This eternal immigrant dilemma is nothing new, no novel personal crisis. Yet, it is my personal crisis and it bothers, troubles and anguishes me. This issue is compounded for me as I truly love both countries. If I deeply hated any one, the answer would be easy. But I love and value both.

So whenever I read the blurb of this book, I felt that this book would be like reading about my own dilemmas. And so I stayed away from the book. After all, denial is a pretty blissful place to be! But then a few days ago I picked it up and read the book. And I am glad I did. Oh, it made me cry. It wrenched my guts and soul. It made me sob in despair. I loved the book (stating that seems redundant by now).

The book is about an elderly woman, Tehmina, who recently lost her husband and is now staying with her son, his American wife and grandson in the US. The book talks about the challenges and issues that arise as Tehmina stays with her son’s family. The compromises, the discussions, the resentments, the everyday annoyances, yet the love underneath it all. We get to see the US as filtered through the thoughts and eyes of a sixty-five year old woman, who has lived in India all her life. And suddenly has to adjust to monumental changes in her life: death of her husband, loss of life as she knew it, shifting of life to a whole new culture, a whole new way of living and thinking and reacting and being.

The book centers around Tehmina’s dilemma- to go back to the familiar country she loves, her own home, her own life back in Mumbai. Or live here as a loved but sometimes tolerated member of her son’s family. She is torn between the two cultures, two lives, two ways of living, two disparate strands that shall never meet. But do they meet in her?

The elderly heroine is shown as an extremely independent gutsy woman with a mind of her own. If not, maybe she would have unquestioningly accepted living with her son. But this is a woman who is intelligent, courageous and self-reliant. She has carved out her own manner of living. And is reluctant to let go. At the same time, she longs to be with her son and grandson. She is also getting older, and is afraid of getting older alone (an entirely justified fear).

I do like the fact that this woman is not shown as a typical Indian mother-in-law, but as an extremely sensible independent self-reliant person. She is never shown to be overly dependent on her son for anything- financially or emotionally. She also never displays any traditional Indian curmudgeonly behavior. This thinking woman is the center of the book- one who is torn between two places that she loves equally.

Uptil the end, I had no idea what decision she would take. Neither did she. In the very end, she does decide to stay in the US. Because the people she loved and those who loved her, were here. Because in the end, all that matters is the people. Not the place. Be where your loved ones are. Be where you are loved. Be where people can take care of you. Be where you can be taken care of. Is that the answer? I still don’t know…

(Image source: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/if-today-be-sweet-thrity-umrigar/1008224676)

A Beautiful Concept

2011-05-24T15:06:00.000-07:00

I just recently came across the Japanese concept of Wabi-sabi and it touched my heart and soul. The Japanese really do know their Zen! T he idea is so heartwarmingly beautiful and simple and true and pure. Of how beauty becomes so much more than looks. Wabi-sabi means that beauty is that which is “imperfect, impermanent and incomplete”. It means that beauty comes not from perfect looks, body or face but from the dents, bruises and wrinkles that come from a life lived truly and deeply. An idea that acknowledges that the thokars and dhakke of life mar us and scar us- only to make us even more beautiful.

It also encompasses the view that as objects age and accumulate more experiences in life, they become more precious. After all, we have so much more sentimental value in the stuff we own for longer. When translated, Wabi means simplicity and quietness and the uniqueness of each of us as we are: unadorned and natural and pure. Sabi translates into serenity that comes with age, along with evidence of its impermanence, wear and tear and repair. Therefore, Wabi-sabi is the aesthetic of beauty that comes from being imperfect. That comes from being human. That comes from being flawed.

Isn’t that a beautiful concept? Each of us carries both within and without, the battle scars of life. A life lived that was full of challenges and choices, dilemmas and difficulties, of parallel universes and parallel paths. A life which breaks your heart and tears your soul. An imperfect soul in an imperfect body in an imperfect universe. Yes, that is indeed what makes me beautiful. What makes all of us beautiful and blessed.

In our world imperfection means being less of a human being, not just less of a beauty. We are always striving towards unattainable ideals of beauty, perfection, work and life. In our world, carrying the scars of a painful life is not acceptable. Or at least, make sure they don’t show. The Japanese knew that Zen comes from acceptance and awareness. Of one’s flawed, human, hurting self. For through pain and joy and living comes experience. For hurting and healing happens all the time. The scars and scabs are proof of living with passion and love and sorrow and pain.

Yes, we are all living an imperfect life in an imperfect body. We are all living with incomplete joys and sorrows. Living a life that is ephemeral and transient. Living a life that sometimes leaves us doubled over in pain. Sometimes smiling in our sleep. Each experience that is lived outside is etched somewhere within our souls. There is the wear and tear and visible repair. This is us. This is Wabi-sabi. This is what makes us beautiful.

(Image source: http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/la/glassware-ceramic/all-day-wabi-sabi-mugs-at-viva-terra-040567)

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Book Review: The Sari Shop Widow

2011-05-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

Title: The Sari Shop Widow
Author: Shobhan Bantwal
ISBN: 9780758232021
Pages: 352
Publisher: Kensington
Genre: Multicultural, Romance

Review: Here is review no. 4 (I think, I’m losing count now) for the South Asian reading challenge. This is my third Shobhan Bantwal book, though the first one I’m reading in 2011. The other two I read were the “The Dowry Bride” and “The Forbidden Daughter”. From the titles of the books, one can perceive an obvious attempt to sell an ‘exotic’ India. These titles offer a vicarious viewing of quaint and exotic Indian culture, where things like dowry and arranged marriages still exist, indeed, thrive. I know that a lot of Americans are fascinated by the idea of arranged marriages (Omygod, really? And you never saw him before the wedding? Wow!), dowry, caste system etc. I do think that a lot of the Indian-American genre caters to this curiosity. I don’t mean to disparage the same, if I wrote a book I’d probably do the same. But it’s there nonetheless.

A lot of stuff in this genre therefore has in it various descriptions of Indian rites and rituals, Indian cultural norms, certain traditional ways of living and thinking. So does the Sari Shop Widow. It is quite an entertainingly written book, call it an Indian American romance with a dose of desi. It is a quick and fun read, with the mandatory happy ending. Also, unlike a lot of the more serious US-desi novels, this does not have any pretensions to depth or profundity. In the large number of US-desi books I’ve read, I’ve seen that a lot of them have undertones of melancholia or imminent despair. Some do tend to be heavy reading! This one is a fun romance novel, nothing more, nothing less. Of course, a desi romance novel. The heart of the book is the same eternal tale of the financially burdened damsel in distress being rescued by super rich knight in shining armor.

Our heroine is a thirty-seven year old widow, Anjali, born and raised in the US. After her husband’s untimely death, she moves back with her parents, and renovates their tired sari shop into a hep sari cum jewelry boutique. After a few years, due to financial mismanagement, the shop is facing severe problems. So enter rich uncle from Gujarat and his even richer young and dashing business partner from London. Our half-desi, half-gora hero. They all get together to reincarnate the shop as a super-fab shopping destination, with boutique+ fusion eatery+ jewelry shop+ beauty salon. It works great and in the process the hero and heroine fall in love. There are the obligatory problems at the end- his ex, her parents, etc. But love and faith conquers all and everybody lives happily ever after!

Altogether, the book is the equivalent of a desi masala movie set in the US. Light, entertaining, quick, good timepass. The perfect combination of Indian culture, pujas, faith, cultural divides, and fairy tales of love and romance and angels coming to the rescue. In fact, a lot like Kal ho na ho!

(Image source: http://www.shobhanbantwal.com/mediaKit.shtml)

If you’ve got it, flaunt it

2011-05-13T15:08:00.000-07:00

This is the mantra that most Punjabis live by. In fact, most seem to believe that even if you haven’t got it, you still need to flaunt it. Lavish displays of everything- money, clothes, jewelry, cars, weddings, homes, vacations, food, looks and words- are what are essential to the average Punjabi. And by average Punjabi, I mean me.

Over time, I have realized the importance of flaunting in my culture (read extended family). When I was younger, I did not quite get this game of one-upmanship. The things I valued most were my books, my education, my skills etc. Not that I did not value clothes, as I said here, I always loved wearing good clothes. But they were never a matter of supreme importance. Now, I have come to the conclusion that despite all those “educational” qualifications, I have to flaunt a lot of other things. It’s got to be subtle (not very subtle, of course) but it’s got to be done! Because, then they don’t accord you the requisite degree of respect. It has to be done to maintain “status” in the eyes of the world.

Chetan Bhagat got it right when he said “Marble floors are to Punjabis what US degrees are to South Indians” (2 States, 2010). Yes, that is a good estimation of what is valued most in the respective cultures. Punjabis have this innate need to flaunt. And they do it with such panache. Insert stuff in normal everyday conversation. That subtly but surely shows how awesome they are and how much awesomer their lives are. In a recent conversation with a cousin, I asked him why he hadn’t yet added me on FB, despite my friend request. Answer: I don’t go to FB much, but I’ve just bought a new Blackberry so I will definitely do more FB’ing and then add you. (Blackberry is India’s iPhone).

Since I live in the US, it is very difficult for me to flaunt my super-fabulous lifestyle such that my extended family gets to know (not that such a lifestyle exists). I mean, they still don’t know I have a gorgeous 46” LCD television, while they are stuck with measly 32” ones. How do I tell them? Or that I eat the most fabulous foods from over the world? Or go on exotic vacations (which I don’t, but even a random beach in SFO looks good in pictures).

FB now provides a means to do this. Atleast now I can let my family know more about my fantabulous life. But given the miserable internet connections in India and the fact that most of them login to FB about once a month, this still does not help much. So talking on the phone is the best way. However, if I can get a word in edgewise. Once they stop talking about their new marble-inlaid flooring house, teak furniture, new diamond necklace and the grand party they are in right now. Or their new Blackberry.

Once, I called up an aunt to wish Diwali. And was inundated with descriptions of the fantabulous Diwali they celebrated, with the entire colony getting together to dance and make merry. Of the great “Chinese” food that was served in the party. Another call, to wish my cousin a happy birthday and asking what he was doing, resulted in a description of the private farm house he was partying in at the moment. A third call ended with another aunt discussing the relative merits of Italian vs. Indian marble for their new mansion (Duh! Of course Italian). Another one was about the fabulous Chocolate Chiffon cake at the birthday party (you think you get such stuff only in Amreeka!). Another was about my aunt’s favorite perfume : Poison, of course. And she could buy it anytime in her boondock town.

My family is a master at the art of flaunting without actually flaunting. It is an art well worth learning. I find it very difficult to do, but am on my way. I am getting to know how to do it while not appearing to care. After all, this blogpost was all about my super-fabulous super-rich family ;)

(Image source: http://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/i/if_you_ve_got_it_flaunt_it_gifts.asp)

Dressing on the side

2011-05-08T14:29:00.001-07:00

I find this phrase infinitely sophisticated and alluring. There is so much that can be deduced about a person if they take dressing on the side. Yes, I am totally alluding to Harry’s classifications (from When Harry met Sally). He classified women as three types, high maintenance, low maintenance and the worst kind- the high maintenance who thought they were low maintenance. Of course, Sally had her salad, food etc. with her specific choice of dressing and sauce on the side.

I have been fascinated by this phrase since I saw “The Mirror has Two Faces”, in which Barbra Streisand orders her salad with dressing on the side. At that time, I did not even know what dressing was, but it all sounded very smart and sophisticated to a rustic like me. Even more so, dressing on the side. Customizable food as a concept caught my fancy. I really liked the idea.

Over time, I grew up, came to the US and unconsciously developed my own quirks and whims. This was not something I thought about till I was ordering salad for lunch the other day. I got the spinach changed to baby greens, gorgonzola cheese to mozzarella, and ordered dressing on the side (which I did not use, making my own desi dressing on lemon juice, salt and pepper). That was the day I realized that I had indeed become ‘high maintenance’.

I usually don’t have coffee after late noon, so that it does not hinder my falling asleep. I buy jams, bread and cereals from one particular shop only since the others are not good enough. I only shop in my own clothes bags, and never use plastic. I only ever eat chocolate or coffee ice cream and refuse to touch any other sort. I hate orange juice. I drink only white wines and don’t like red varietals. I buy clothes from only two specific shops. I always drink water without ice. And of course, I customize my salad J.

Maybe the above doesn’t really make me high maintenance. I think I’m just somebody with very specific choices. Or maybe Harry was right!

(Image source: http://www.healthydivaeats.com/2011/03/chilis-night-and-pizzert.html)

The Importance of Being Vain

2011-04-29T11:36:00.000-07:00

While growing up, I was taught that being vain was a bad thing. Being vain ranked high up there along with being dishonest and uncharitable. Even though I grew up in a cultural milieu where looking good was paramount, I was often too lost in my own world of books and studies to pay much attention to looking good. Also, I never had much to be vain about, so maybe that contributed as well. I did pay a lot of attention to my clothes- and was always the best dressed person in any gathering. Though I never had the perfect bod- far from it, actually- I realized that I had to pay extra attention to my garb. To this day, I plan most of my outfits with all the detail of a general planning a war. Dressing up well becomes very important if you (or me, in this case) do not have a good body!

Anyway, to get back to my main point, I grew up without any sense of personal vanity- that I looked good and needed to look good. Vanity implies that I know I look good. By extension, I realize that I get attention and people look at me! By further corollary, it means that I will work hard to look good because I take pride in doing so. So in a way, being vain does mean being proud of one’s looks/ body etc. This vanity/pride spurs us on to look good. To work hard at looking good. It is an innate sense of self-worth. And it keeps us on our toes.

In today’s age of skin-deep beauty, it is futile to deny that the more attractive among us are privileged. Call it shallow- I used to, and look at me now! I have come to believe that it is important to look good to feel good. Not just for the external world, but because being attractive makes you feel better about yourself. It is an added validation in this world ridden by self-doubt. Maybe your sense of self-worth comes from being a great genius, or your intellectual capacities or whatever rocks your boat. But for me, and most mere mortals like me, how we look is a big contributing factor.

I think being vain helps you take better care of yourself. Love yourself a little more. And we all need extra love- especially from our own selves.

Image Source: http://www.cartoonstock.com/directory/m/mirror_mirror.asp

Book Review: The Wish Maker

2011-04-20T22:15:00.000-07:00

Here is review no. 3, as a part of the South Asian Reading Challenge 2011. I did read a couple more South Asian/Indian books in the interim, but did not like them at all. In fact, simply hated one of them. Will get around to reviewing them soon! Here is today's book:

Title: The Wish Maker
Author: Ali Sethi
Release Date: June 11, 2009
Publisher: Riverhead Hardcover

This book is based in modern day Pakistan. It is a wonderful portrayal of the travails, tensions and politics of the country. The story revolves around a young boy named Zaki Shirazi, son of a political activist mother and a pilot father (who was no more). It follows the small kid as he grows up, his relationship with his cousin Samar, his adolescent pains, friends and foes in school, and bits and pieces of his extended family (buas, tayis, mausis, dadi, nani, cousins etc.). The turbulent politics of Pakistan serves as a backdrop for this family, as their lives and activities are directly interlinked with the country's turmoil. Add to that the cultural restraints on women in the subcontinent, and personal intrigue starts fomenting within the larger picture of political intrigue. The story is gripping and fascinating, as one is drawn deeper into the web of Zaki's family's lives and loves.

The book does seem to be autobiographical in parts, since both of Ali's parents are prominent Pakistani journalists. Also, the hero in the book goes to "a prominent liberal arts college" in Boston for his higher education; Ali Sethi studied at Harvard. A large part of the book is devoted to his mother's political activism, which could be true in real life. The book also talks a lot about Benazir Bhutto and her regime.

The story develops on the beautiful relationship between Zaki and his elder cousin, Samar. They see Bollywood movies together: she weaves dreams around her "own" Amitabh coming and rescuing her one day. Samar is portrayed as an example of the adolescent modern-traditional Muslim girl-woman: desirous of love, making dangerous trysts with illicit love, shifting the boundaries just a little- and yet scared. She is obviously caught and exiled to a small village, away from all temptations of town! Zaki is her partner in crime, aiding and abetting her. This brother-sister love is the heart of this book, staying on through separation and distance and time.

Ali Sethi's book also captures the youth of Pakistan- caught between tradition and modernity, religion and belief. The book also has a brief flashback of pre-Partition days, when there was an undivided India. We get a brief glimpse of the terror and carnage of those days. Enough has been written about the Partition, yet I do believe that the pain will never completely go away. Its like a limb rent apart from one's body. I feel this way because both my paternal and maternal sides of the family came over from Pakistan then, barely saving their lives. They lost everything: land, house, money, friends, family, history... faith, hope and joy. It says a lot for their courage that they rebuilt totally destroyed lives from scratch in a new country. I've heard the stories from my family, and so everytime I read about the Partition I feel intense, personal pain. Its too close to me to be able to read about it.

Ali Sethi writes beautifully. Some parts are a bit vague, maybe intentionally, I could not be sure. For example, I just could not make out whether the narrator (Zaki) was gay or not. I think he was, this was slightly ambiguous. He, however, sketches a beautiful portrait of Zaki as an immensely sweet innocent trusting fatherless kid, taking in all the pain and pathos around him and trying to make sense of it. The book, narrated through this kid's eyes, takes us on a journey through Pakistan: we sense the growing pains of the author and the country. Its women and its men. Its beliefs, religion, culture and families.

To sum up, I loved the book and would recommend it. It is a great gripping book- I was emotionally invested in the characters. And that makes for a great book!

When words come alive!

2011-04-01T11:02:00.001-07:00

I have mentioned time and again on this blog about my love of reading and how voraciously I read- any and everything that comes my way. I have always loved reading and read a lot since I was a little kid. Inevitably, this informed my world view. Also, since I read mostly fiction and romance, I have to admit that I have always held a very rosy view of the world. This has led to not occasional disillusionment as well. Still, I prefer to keep my rosy world view intact. It has not been difficult, try as I might, I can never be cynical. I have deep enduring belief in the goodness of this world (though unfortunately, this has not borne true for me in the last few years).

Anyway, I'm digressing. Today, I wanted to talk about how this incessant reading made me familiar with the world outside of India. It aroused in me a desire to see the world. One of my biggest reasons to come to the US was that I wanted to see the world. Mujhe duniya dekhni thhi! And I did. I have not traveled as much as I would have wanted, but its a good start. I've lived and experienced stuff outside of the narrow proscribed path of a good bhartiya naari :) I am happy I got the chance to see a bit of the world!

As a fond reader, an inevitable book that one reads while growing up is "The Diary of a Young Girl", Anne Frank's diary. I read it at a time when my age was very similar to Anne's at the time she was writing the diary. I could relate to her teenage angst and pain. The very real fear of death in the book. Often I tried to imagine her and the small attic the two families were hidden in, the everyday challenges and the constant shadow of fear. The picture remained in my head. Since that age I always cherished the desire to see the house, though it was mostly just another pipe dream.

Then a little more than an year ago I had the opportunity to visit Amsterdam, and I went to the Anne Frank Huis there. I saw the secret entrance to their hideout, hidden behind a bookshelf. The two small rooms that Anne Frank's family lived in. And the other rooms of Peter's family. The water closet (which they could never use during the day). The darkened windows. The rooms were small, suffocating and claustrophobic. With no daylight allowed in. I think that seeing Anne Frank's house was an experience, since I think after reading the book one can never forget it. Especially since I read it at such an impressionable age.

Image source: http://www.paranormalknowledge.com/articles/the-anne-frank-house.html

It was literally a thought come alive for me. I could never have imagined as a small girl of twelve living in a small town in India that I would get to see Anne's house. I'm profoundly grateful for the chance. And I hope I can get many more such chances, when more books and words come alive for me!

New Series: Bitchfest, Episode 1

2011-03-27T18:04:00.000-07:00

I've never been so irritated in my life! I am surprised and mystified by the way people's minds work, all because of this one person. In fact, I am so irritated that I decided to start a new series on my blog, called Bitchfest. I will occasionally rant here about people who are stupid, ignorant and uncultured. Yes, that's just the beginning! I have to get this out of my system, or I'll never be able to do anything else.

So here is the first episode of Bitchfest, titled
How often do you wash your hair? Or how to become an American in one easy step!

All you people out there, how often do you wash your hair? A typical Indian washes their hair 2-3 times a week, often after oiling it. Sometimes oiling it the night before. Sometimes no oil. But growing up, I washed my hair 1-2 times a week (and of course, always for a party or special event). Every country, I think, has its own habits of washing hair. After coming to the US, I learnt that most Americans wash their hair everyday. I never gave this another thought and continued my usual habits.

Last year, I was in conversation with three other girls, two Chinese and one Indian. The conversation turned to hair. Both of us Indians said that we washed our hair twice a week or so, and often oiled it as well. The Chinese women were surprised: they had always washed their hair everyday. Then this other Indian girl, lets call her K, started telling them about how it was bad for hair, and how you should not wash it everyday as this meant more chemicals in hair, etc. etc. and so on. Now, this convinced one of the Chinese girls and then she said she would also wash her hair less often. I remembered this conversation very well.

Now, almost an year later I was meeting K again along with two other girls (not Indian or Chinese). Girls being girls, the conversation again turned to how to keep your hair pretty. And K then said that now she did not get time to wash her hair everyday as she was now working. I stared at her, flabbergasted. So I asked her how often did she wash it now? And she said that she now washed it 2-3 times a week, but earlier she always washed it EVERY day. I was baffled, since this was exactly the opposite of what she had said last year. Since I recalled last year's conversation very well, I asked her again. And again she said that before she started working, she washed her hair every day.

Till last year, she was a fervent supporter of the fact that hair should be washed less often. And she gave lots of examples of the same, trying to convince the two Chinese girls. Then suddenly she learnt that Americans washed their hair everyday. And an year later, that is what she professes she did.

What went on in this woman's mind? That saying she washed her hair everyday would make her American? Or she thought I had completely forgotten last year's conversation? Or that she genuinely had/ has no sense of self and can pretend to be anything she thinks is better? So, she has such an inherent lack of any sense of self that she quickly copies what she perceives as being more superior (in this case, American habit= superior). Washing your hair everyday makes you better? Wow, that is new take on status symbols.

I wonder how this person's mind works. Is being in America so difficult that she employs these weird stratagems? Maybe she feels out of place and is doing this to feel at home. In that case, I would suggest she take pronunciation lessons. That would really help!

Lost

2011-03-22T13:26:00.000-07:00

Kucch saal pehle jo mod liya,
chuna thha maine raasta
Aaj usi ki wajah se jo hoon main,
waheen se shuru meri daastan

Woh mod bhi ajeeb sa thha,
ajab si kahaani thhi
Kuchh raaste thhe dekhe huye,
kuchh raahein anjaani thhi

Kuchh raaston mein badi thhi bheed,
kuchh raaste veerane bhi thhe
Chuna maine usi raah ko,
jiske khilaaf zamaane bhi thhe

Thoda ladkhadaate thoda sambhalte huye,
naye raaston par chal padi
Dekha na mud kar puraana shahar,
nayi duniya mein nikal padi

Thokar mili aur mushkilein bhi,
mile naye dost aur humsafar
Nayi duniya mein nayi duniya basi,
nayi shaamein aur nayi sahar

Yun zindagi chalti rahi,
yun zindagi badal gayi
Mai khud ko peechhe chhod kar,
kitna aage nikal gayi

Phir achaanak is khalish ko dekh,
mai chalte-chalte dar gayi
Kahaan thhi wo, wo jo thhi mai,
wo jaane kahaan kidhar gayi

Ye dari huyi chup si mai,
ye mai to mai kabhi na thhi
Nayi duniya ki nayi si mai,
ye mai to ajnabi si thhi

Awaaz di maine mujhe,
dhoondha bahut idhar-udhar
Tere bina kuchh nahi thhi mai,
tu kahaan gayi mujhe chhhod kar

Tere bina na mera wajood,
tere bina na guroor hai
Tu mujh se hai mai tujh se hoon,
tu kyun yun mujhse door hai

Meri awaaz ki goonj aayi,
kuchh ajnabi se mod par
Mai chal padi phir us taraf,
nayi raahon ko chhod kar

Wo khadi thhi mai ik mod par,
jo jaana-pehchaana sa thha
Ik raaste par bahut bheed thhi,
ik raasta veerana sa thha

Maine khud ko dekha mud kar,
phir bheed mein gum huyi
Mai dekhti hi rah gayi,
tum mujhse kaise tum huyi

Ab gali-gali aur raaste,
phir khud ko dhoondh rahi hoon mai
kaheen tumko dikhe to batlaana,
wo jo gum huyi, bas wahi hoon mai…

Impressions of the latest version of India

2011-03-13T11:22:00.000-07:00

Its been a while since I wrote anything here. Mostly because I had gone to India for about a month. A month of non-stop travel, family, food, fun and clothes! Yes, I always get the latest newest Indian wear in every India trip :)

And now back to my D & B (dull and boring) life here. Again and again, it comes to me how India has changed, some for the better and some for worse. I left India right at the time it was teetering on the very brink of globalization- now, of course, it is totally over the edge. I came to the US in 2005- and the last five years have meant massive change in India. Not everywhere, though. Some things stay the same, some regress and some progress. For example, one can now see (and travel on) better roads. They are improving the roads, which were abysmal earlier. Its slow but its happening. New highways are being constructed all over North India, which is where I mostly traveled.

I was also very impressed with the new airports, I saw both the Hyderabad and New Delhi ones. They were world-class with superb facilities, efficient staff, sparkling clean, helpful service oriented people everywhere (be it the airline or the airport staff). The airline staff deserves a special mention- they were so friendly and helpful and sweet! Another thing that I noticed was that in airports across the world- at least in India and Europe- at the airport security check in, the staff helps you. They take your hand baggage, put it in trays etc. This happened to me both at Frankfurt and everywhere in India. So why doesn't this ever happen in the US? Why is there never anybody to help before security? I mean, I'm sure its not needed- though it might be very helpful to first time travelers who don't know what to remove- but it provides that extra touch of service that makes all the difference.

So what remains the same? Yes, same old, same old. The country will never accept its daughters. Yes, female foeticide is getting worse. So much so, that it is not considered remarkable or wrong, but spoken of rather matter of factly. Much like recounting an amusing anecdote. Actually, that is exactly what did happen to me. While meeting some extended family, this happened in two separate instances. Both mentioned acquaintances of theirs who had sons after two daughters (and 3-4 foeticides in between). Let me make it clear, these conversations were about the fact that how great it was that they finally had sons. And so the foeticide was only mentioned in passing, as an irrelevant factor. This practice has become so common that it not only ceases to repulse, it even ceases to be considered. It is the way of things, after all, one should do everything possible to get a son (in these instances, I only speak of North India, where this son craze is reaching dangerous proportions).

The next thing that irritated me no end was that nobody ever switched off their cellphones for aircraft take-off and landing. Nobody! Ever! I just don't get it. I took two domestic flights in India, and it was the same every time. I kept wondering why this was so, in fact spent the two hour flight wondering about this phenomenon. What made Indians ignore the rules? And I came to the conclusion that most Indians have it hardwired into their system that they are above the rules. Hence everybody talks on their phone, nobody waits for the seat belt sign to get switched off. This could also be the reason behind India's abysmal traffic situation. Or corruption. Wow, this is a brainwave and maybe I should write a paper on this: Why Indians don't follow the rules?

So, I am leaving you with this funny advertisement from Reliance. Which captures Indian follies and foibles and still makes you laugh :)

Book Review: Daughters of the House

2011-01-26T00:10:00.000-08:00

Here is my second book review as a part of the 2011 South Asian Challenge. I just completed reading "Daughters of the House" by Indrani Aikath-Gyaltsen. This book was published in 1991 by Penguin, New Delhi and published later in the US.

The book is based near Netarhat, in present day Jharkhand (erstwhile Bihar). It is the story of women, about women, by a woman. It is about the eternal lives of women, in which men come and men go, barely creating a ripple in intensely feminine lives. And then, along comes a man who creates not only ripples, but rents and shreds and tears asunder- worlds, hymens, lives. And goes away again, his part played. The worlds, hymens and lives fuse together again, forming another impenetrable feminine world. Waiting for yet another man...

The book is written through a haze of pain- or so it comes across. The narrator is a young eighteen year old girl, Madhuchchanda, insular, stubborn and sometimes, plain weird. She lives with her Madhulika Mausi (Aunt), younger sister Mala and devoted controlling female maid Parvati. An all-female household that has always been like this (her father was there for two years of marriage then left after begetting two daughters). Their relationships are a mixture of control, affection and desperation. One can sometimes smell the man-deprivation and desire of the forty-two year old Mausi. Who gets what she wants and then loses it spectacularly to her own niece. A man!

It is at times hard to like the protagonist, as she goes about plotting and scheming how to ruin her Mausi's marriage. And of course, finds the perfect way- sleep with the man herself. It is not exactly clear what happens and how- is the young girl just male-deprived (she is), does she plan this, does the older man seduce her (doesn't seem like it), is she doing this because she hates him, is she doing it to get some sort of control, or is it just lust on both sides? It is a little difficult to analyze the reasons, and but of course it is obvious right from the beginning that this is what is going to happen. Good, old-fashioned incest. Control. Revenge. Lust. Everything that is female.

It is a painful confusing book. No neat ends, no happily ever afters... unless you count the protagonist giving birth to her daughter... renewing the cycle of femininity. The tie of strongest affection in the book is with the house. The house where they all live. Which comes before love and joy and lust and pain. The house that moralizes and condemns and forgives (or not). Yes, this book is indeed about daughters of the "house".

So did I like it? Not too much. Its a confusing book, with the constant undercurrent of pain. Pain swells and pain subsides, but it pains all the time. That's the book for you. Not painful in reading (don't get me wrong there), but pain drips from the written word. Pain and confusion and lust and desire and hate and sorrow and lust that can intermingle only in the mind and heart of women. And still make sense!

Kitna padhogi?

2011-01-18T19:05:00.001-08:00

Its been ages since I ranted about India and Indianisms... which is of course a main feature on this blog ;) So since its been long overdue, here is one thing that irritates me quite a bit. After having lived to my age, and in the US, one thing that I have realized is that life is not the same, nor does it follow a similar pattern, for most people. Each and every one of us lives differently, and makes different choices. It is often not even just about choices, it is sometimes just life that happens to us. Man proposes, God disposes.... Life turns out the way it does, and even though we have control of some parts, sometimes life takes its own twists and turns.

To go back to my point, all our lives take different paths, both by choice and happenstance. It is just downright silly to compare lives- so I did not live the typical circumscribed Indian life of finishing my education at 22, getting a job, getting married by 25 and having two kids by 30. Yes, lots of people live that life, and lots of people don't. In fact, I know any number of men and women who have not followed the above path. I have not, and I find it really irritating when my friends and acquaintances feel it is within their purview to comment on my life choices/ circumstances. Especially my education!!

Yes, that is my problem. Just because I have studied a LOT, people think its weird. They think it is perfectly all right to say offensive things to me about my education. A friend of mine recently contacted my via Linkedin after SEVEN years, and his message- Kitna padhogi? Ab to padhai bas karo!
So this guy has nothing else to say to me after SEVEN years? Not even a courtesy greeting to preface his offensive remarks! I did not even know how to react. This is something that has happened to me often, both by friends and relatives. One of my friends - the happy mother of two kids who followed the prescribed path- was visiting the US recently. We met after a gap of eight years. And again, this was her first comment... kitna padhegi?

I have heard a lot of similar stuff from my relatives, most of whom have commented on my education at some time or the other. I just don't know why people have such problems. Luckily for me, I was funded for most of my higher education, both in India and the US. I could obviously not have afforded to study so much without the funding I got.

So I get money/scholarships to study, I spend my own life doing so, and I do my own work. And yet, these people pop up after ages, and comment on my life choices. I know people who have studied way more than me. I know people with two PhD's, forget about my mere two Masters. I know people who go back to school for the sheer joy of it. I know people who go to school in their 50's. And I am filled with admiration for them. For having chosen to live a little bit differently.

Is it because Indians think it is perfectly all right to meet after ten years and yet be familiar enough to comment on other people's life and life choices? I wish I could say something to shut such people up without being rude. Any suggestions?

Psychoanalysis of Eating Out

2011-01-09T19:01:00.000-08:00

How often do you eat out? And how do you feel when you eat out? Does it mean anything to you or is it just the mundane task of getting food into you and nothing more?
Eating out has layers of connotations and meanings for me. It is never a simple task but fraught with emotions juxtaposed in varying permutations. I was thinking about all it means to me, and realized that there are so many levels to it. So I decided to do this point-wise, else I'll forget all the depths!

1. Foodie- I love food completely (and how!). Every form shape size taste it comes in. So going out to eat is a culinary adventure of sorts. I love trying out new cuisines, new dishes from different countries around the world. Even if the cuisine is something I've had before, every place has a different take on the same recipe. Therefore, eating out is an adventure. However, the flip side is that often I end up trying new stuff that I don't like.

2. Guilt - I always have a vague sense of guilt when I am eating out. Firstly, I'm fat! So even normal eating at home has associations of guilt. Add to that the super calorific large portions served at most restaurants, and no wonder I eat my food with a side of guilt. Secondly, since I don't have a job, I'm spending my husband's money when eating out. This gives me a feeling of guilt because I keep thinking that I can cook up five perfectly decent meals in the same cost at home.

3. Pleasure- Wherever there's guilt, there's illicit pleasure. Because I know this is something I should not be doing, there is the perverse pleasure of actually doing it. Umm, like eating that last piece of chocolate or reading a romance novel all night!

4. Confidence- As I mentioned, since I don't work I do tend to go out a lot less. So eating out translates into an occasion to dress up, look good and generally feel better about myself. Also, I get to talk to people/friends (socialize) and that makes me feel good.

5. Sociality - Eating out is not just eating, it is looking at other people and being looked at. It is a social behavior. It is the virtual space of sociality and encounter and engagement. And I revel in that. I am a people person through and through and love being in the company of people, even if I'm not necessarily talk to them.

Yes, a lot of complicated stuff goes on when I'm eating out. Sometimes, I even do it just because I'm hungry!

(Image source: http://icanhascheezburger.com/2008/11/14/funny-pictures-eating-out-home-cookin/)

Review: Desirable Daughters

2011-01-07T16:58:00.001-08:00

The first post of 2011 is a part of the 2011 South Asian Challenge that I am participating in. This is the review of the book Desirable Daughters by Bharati Mukherjee. I've read more than my fair share of Indian authors, so I'm very familiar with the 'diaspora' genre. And I do think that this is one of the better books of that genre. The book is written with a lot of erudition!

This story begins in the house of one of Calcutta's bhadra lok, the brahmins with their books, strict rules, lakshman-rekhas, and inbred insularity. It begins with three sisters, all of whom eventually go their different paths, two to the US and one to Mumbai. The story focuses mostly on the third and youngest sister, Tara, and is also narrated by her. Life happens to them all- parents, sisters, husbands and kids, both in the US and India. Tara, the narrator-protagonist gets married at nineteen and comes to the US, has no clue about anything, and divorces her start-up billionaire pati because he's too busy making money. She's then moving in and out of relationships (both with random men and her sisters).

Throw into this potpourri the worst thing that can happen to an Indian mother - Tara's teenage son announcing that he's gay. If that isn't enough masala for you yet, a Muslim terrorist is thrown into the mix, targeting the most successful South Asian of all time- the ex-husband! The book ends with a bomb effecting a reconciliation of the couple.

So what do I tell you? Yes, it is a very well-written book. The use of language is effective, captivating, powerful. She uses her words very well. The book is so engrossing that I read it for seven hours straight (with bathroom breaks). I really liked the way she brought the old Calcutta to life. She also captures the Silicon Valley Indian immigrant ethos and life very well- with the engineers and their wives and their over-performing "heading to Stanford" kids and houses in the suburbs. San Francisco comes to life in her words, and I could imagine the narrator and her son riding the MUNI back from school.

The power and impact of this book lies in the details. Her sketches of the characters, the places, the thoughts are impactful. How a single woman will live in the City (San Francisco) as the suburbs are too claustrophobic to live alone in. Why all the Indian immigrants kids' have straight A's. Yes, she is good at emphasising and bringing out the stereotypes that we Indians will empathise and identify with.

What I did not like was the overarching story. The details were great, and make the book well worth the read, but I did not like the masala thrown in for masala's sake. The divorce seemed completely unnecessary, with no real reason or justification behind it. It is just there because otherwise there would be no story! I find it hard to imagine that given what Bharati Mukherjee tells us about the strict upbringing and conditioning of the protagonist and her sisters- and given that I am Indian enough to know the stigma and horror associated with it- Tara would divorce her husband because she wasn't fulfilled enough. That is an American reason to separate (and Bharati Mukherjee says so herself in the book), not an Indian one.

Secondly, I did not like the unnecessary fact of the son being gay. We have enough episodes of the boy screaming at his mother, adolescent angst, teenage drama thrown in. The 'gay' thing was not needed and does not contribute to either the story, character development or anything. It seemed to be there only to emphasize its non-Indianness (you get what I mean?). As in, the end of the world for an Indian mother/parent.

And I still don't get the Muslim terrorist. Another item of mayhem in Tara's life. Its like Bharati Mukherjee wrote down a list of "everything that can go wrong for the Indian woman" = divorce, gay kid, dysfunctional family (I haven't gone into the details of her relationship with her sisters here), aging parents, and ummm.... lets put in an international terrorist gang targeting her rich ex-pati as well. Put them together and there's a book.

Don't get me wrong, I quite liked the book. As I say above, the joy and impact is in the details. So while the overall story is a bit contrived, it is a good read. Do try it if you have the time, and let me know what you think!

(Image source:http://www.fantasticfiction.co.uk/m/bharati-mukherjee/desirable-daughters.htm)

South Asian Challenge 2011

2010-12-14T10:44:00.000-08:00

I came across this challenge while randomly browsing some blogs that I read... and some that I don't. The creator of the challenge wants people to read books about South Asia, or from South Asian authors and then review them. She also has a ranking in place for the number of books read and reviewed over the course of the year. This seems like a challenge right up my alley- since I mostly read Indian/ South Asian authors. Now my only challenge is to find more authors, since I have read half of her suggested list already. But then, I still have the other half to go through :)

This will give me something to read and write, and maybe even glean life-altering mind-boggling insights from some of these books. Who knows!
Overall sounds like fun, since reading is the one thing I am constant about. Which means that I will (maybe) write more often. Sounds like a win-win situation.

Thanks to S.Krishna for this! I'm in :)

(all images from S. Krishna's post about the challenge)

Peaceful Co-existence

2010-12-10T12:18:00.000-08:00

My parents were visiting me in the US for the last couple of months. It was really interesting- and different- to see the US from their point-of-view. There were things that they really appreciated, and stuff that they totally disliked (like all of us).

So when they were here, my father would scour the local Indian magazines and newspapers, for interesting Indian social, cultural and religious events. He methodically made a list of events, dates, locations and addresses- that he wanted to attend/visit.

When it came to religious events and places, he went to all of them. He visited the Sai Baba temple, the Hindu temple, the Balaji temple, the San Jose Gurudwara, the BAPS temple, our own Guru's temple, Chinmaya Mission events, random satsangs... any and everything. He went to every place with equal shraddha and devotion. For him, it wasn't a South Indian temple or a North Indian god or a Sikh Guru- they were all paths of devotion and he loved each of them equally.

And when it came to cultural events, we attended two major ones. One was a Punjabi "Miss India" USA held quite close to home. Most (99.5%) of the audience, the participants, the presenters- everybody was a Sikh. Everything was in Punjabi. It was one of the most enjoyable lively and fun events I have ever attended. All the dancing, the fun, the poetry, the people added up to a wonderful day. It did not matter that nobody spoke Hindi.

The second one was a Mushaira held by the Alumni Association of the Aligarh Muslim University. My dad graduated as an engineer from that school. So he actually found out the existence of the AMU Alumni Association and got in touch with quite a few of the members. Then we got to know about their annual celebration, held in honor of the school's founder, Sir Syed Ahmed Khan. This was to be a Mushaira, hosting some of India, Pakistan and the USA's most famous shayars.

This was an event well worth the wait. I have time and again written here about how my Mom inculcated a love of ghazals in me. And my Dad, with an AMU background, speaks fluent Urdu (and can read brokenly). So we all went, and had the time of our lives in this amazing event. The shayari was incredible. The beauty of the evening was in the poetry, the people, the place, the tehzeeb. And we all sat together, not caring for boundaries of religion or language, immersed in the sheer love and appreciation of fine poetry. The entire evening was conducted in fine Urdu, the language of ghazals and Ghalib and Rumi and Kabir. The language did not matter. The camaraderie, the love, the sheer oneness of the room, did matter.

It was when they left and I was remembering all the stuff that we did that I started pondering over this. My parents have never cared for community or language or religious barriers when it came to friends. Obviously, being from Aligarh, some of my Dad's best friends are Muslims. His longest lasting friendships are with his roommates from his engineering days- A Bengali, a Jaat and a Sikh. Spending most of his life in the army reinforced this as he met and made friends with people of every state, creed and community.

Yes, they did not adapt to a lot of non-Indian food (though some of it, they loved -especially falafel and garlic bread. Yes, they fell insanely and instantly in love with garlic bread :) Yes, they might still have some problems about accepting people from every country and race in the world, as is common in the US. Given time, I am sure they would do that too. But you know what, when it comes to India, they get it. They know that both worship and friendship are not restricted to the same caste or community or even religion. The only thing this allows for is loss of a good person. And nobody taught them that, it just comes naturally to them. This coexistence, be it religious, cultural or social.

I felt incredibly proud of them. And hopefully, I can do the same in my life. But I have lofty footsteps to follow!

Bread & Cheese

2010-11-25T11:35:00.001-08:00

That is a match made in heaven. It is the perfect meal for me, satisfying and fulfilling. I have always loved the combination of bread and cheese. Easy to make (after all, there's nothing to make), and delicious to eat.

I started living on this combo when I was a new graduate, living alone and working in a new city. This was a standard dinner for me, since at that time I did not even have the rudiments of a kitchen. And this was back in India, so it was plain white sliced bread (un-toasted) and Britannia Cheese cubes. Ohh, how I loved those cubes! I remember I used to buy two cubes from the neighborhood kiryana store, walking back from office. Then have them with bread for dinner. Simple, plain and easy.
My occasional indulgence was the newly introduced Amul cheese spread. One could get it in three (yes, Three!) different flavors; plain, black pepper and spicy garlic.

(Image source: http://agriculture.indiabizclub.com/products/amul_cheese_spreads)

Then I came to the US of A and discovered cheese. Make that CHEESE. There are zillions and trillions of varieties of cheese available here. AND zillions and trillions of varieties of bread. Of course, I cook a lot more now and have a perfectly nice functional kitchen at my disposal. But even now, when I'm alone and feeling lazy, I still atavistically eat my bread and cheese.

Yes, now its not plain white sliced bread, but some fancy-shmancy artisan bread or baguette with an even fancier name, and some fancy-shmancy cheese from Switzerland/Turkey/France/ Netherlands. I am completely in love with bread. The different types, shapes, forms, smells, tastes... especially the smells. Every bread has such distinctive form smell shape, a truly beautiful piece of baked perfection.

So my plain bread and cheese is no longer plain. But yet, the taste transports me back to some earlier time!

(Image source: http://beearl.blogspot.com/2010/01/bread-and-cheese-anyone.html)

Not Another Social Network!

2010-10-05T14:15:00.000-07:00

I opened my iTunes today to see "Ping" prominently displayed on an entire panel to the right. And my first thought was...not another social network.
Yes, it is getting to be too much. It is now quite irritating. I really do not need a social network for every single hobby, passion, like or dislike I have. Maybe I do not want to talk or share it with the world. Maybe I do. But whatever, I think that the technology people are going overboard with the social network craze/malaise!!

I think there are both technological, social and cultural reasons for this sudden craze. Of course, the first is obvious: technology "affords" this (Donald Norman, DOET) so we can now make this happen. And the underlying techno-social reason (I do not know if that is yet a word, if not, it needs to be) is the new technological race for more product ideas, coupled with the current craze for start-ups. If somebody has a reasonably decent but half-baked idea, they will either make it a new product or launch a new start-up. I really don't know if the so-called technology geeks even think of things from the non-technological point-of-view. The masses, so to speak, that they are designing for. These are the people who are surrounded by similar thinking "geeks" all the time, so when discussing ideas with each other, the idea becomes a self- perpetuating wish-fulfilling prophecy which will make them the quick millions they are hoping for. And they tell me high-tech start-up failure rates are high. Oh Well!

Social networks as an idea are pretty much done to death. Since the tech-geek obviously wants to do a start-up and despite being (or maybe because of) a geek, still thinks that social networks are cool and how about a new one for music/ poetry/ Jane Austen (that's an idea! maybe I should make my own Jane Austen social network). On second thoughts, do the geeks know Jane Austen exists?

Yes, I do think technology has its uses- after all, I am here writing my personal rant on social networks which I will then link to Facebook ;) - but I think that sometimes a good thing can be taken too far. There are aspects of my life that I may not want to make public. There is only so much technology can do to make life easier. And there is life outside of the aura of the computer screen.

Another thing that I feel strongly about- especially in this country- is that this proliferation of technology further contributes to the high rate of depression and loneliness here. We all know that nothing can replace human contact, words, touch, a hug. Or to put it more blatantly, computer ke saath so nahi sakte. Doesn't this incessant ubiquitous technology take us a further step apart from actual human contact? So now I have a social network online to discuss my esoteric (or not) music tastes rather than sit around with a bunch of friends actually listening to the music?

Again, here I think Meetup does a great job, using technology as a tool to create social settings, bring like-minded people together in person. So does Facebook, connecting people across the world. And that should be the purpose of technology. It is a means to an end, not an end in itself, something that we tend to forget. Lets get together in person, and hug and kiss and love and cry and rant and rage! Or lets form a new Meetup group about it ;)

Anger Again

2010-09-20T10:34:00.001-07:00

Yes, it is back. I've written about it, here. My nemesis- anger. I have been working hard to overcome it and thought I had, quite successfully. My anger was swift as a spark, and came and went just as quickly. A flash and it was over, leaving me calmer than before. But I managed to control- and overcome it. Have not been really angry in the last six-odd months.
But it is back. And this time in a more devious form. Slow, burning resentment. A constant feeling that life is unfair to me. A gentle simmering festering pain. Small explosions that do nothing to release the pressure. Constant never-ending simmering brewing soft stealthy... scary.

So I was thinking. Why did it come back? Who was it aimed at?
And I realized that all the anger, the pain, the resentment is against myself. It is me I am angry against. For doing some things. For not doing others. For wanting things I can never have.
For not being nicer to myself. For not treating myself better.

Because, I just realize, nobody else is going to do so. Nobody else can validate me. In vain do I seek approval. It is a constant striving ache that can never be fulfilled. For those that I seek validation from can never give it to me. I am looking in the wrong places. And yet, I can't stop. Can't stop seeking it, and can't stop wanting it.

This leads to anger. A constant resentment that comes from knowing that I can never match up. That the people I love most want me to be somebody else. Somebody that I can not be. Somebody that I do not want to be. Yet, somebody that makes them happy.

So who is this person and why am I not her? The 'her' that people love, respect and accept?

Tag: Top Ten Fictional Heroes

2010-07-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

I've been doing any number of tags lately, so I decided to create one after my own heart (quite literally). As I have mentioned any number of times on this blog, I'm a voracious reader. With no pretensions to high-brow stuff, I read mostly fiction- mystery and thriller and romance and drama. I've been reading since I was old enough to string sentences together and make sense out of them. Reading has been associated with every phase of my growing up.

So I decided to list my top ten fictional crushes of all time. Guys that I have had major crushes on as I read my way through life. Who I really wanted, admired and "crushed" on in all my adolescent glory. And even beyond :) These aren't people I merely liked, these are the guys my heart ached for and wanted. I've tried to maintain the chronological order here, but it’s not very accurate. So here goes:

1. Fatty: Frederick Algernon Trotteville (F.A.T.) of the Five Find-Outers. Super-brainy and intelligent, master of crazy disguises, and solver of mysteries. I liked him even before I knew what a crush was! He was a geek before geeks were invented. Sometime in Grade 3 or 4.

2. Jupiter Jones: Again, slightly plump and super-brainy. Of the Three Investigators. Jupiter enthralled me with his amazing brains, reasoning capabilities and solving unfathomable mysteries. He invented totally awesome stuff and did all kinds of things with his super brain power. Again, an uber-geek before geekdom was created. Sometime in Grade 5-7.

3. Perry Mason: the hottest lawyer in town. Very hot and very intelligent. Loved his cool and collected calm in the most bizarre of situations. His courtroom manner was also quite fascinating. Also his badinage (bordering on flirtation) with Della Street. Grades 8-10.

4. Ralph De Bricassart: The priest from heaven ;) Or maybe a Greek God! The pain and anguish in this book were unbearable, especially to a teenager like me. How he had to make the most difficult choice ever. And how he sold his love for thirteen pieces of silver. The pain, the heartache, the sorrow- this is a book that has forever been a favorite since I read it in high school. I still read bits and pieces of this book. Grade 9.

5. Rhett Butler: Inevitable, right? One of the most romantic heroes of all time. I don't know of a single girl who did/does not love Rhett Butler. To think that Scarlett was so blind. And I hated Melanie Wilkes!

6. Zaphod Beeblebrox: One of my first serious loves in life. Uber-cool, witty, arrogant, outrageous, funny, smart and weird. What more could a girl ask for! I was hopelessly in love with him for a long long time. Grades 8-10.

7. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Another of the most romantic heroes ever. Unbelievably arrogant, unbelievably handsome, unbelievably unattainable. The stereotypical rich "proud" hero.

8. Barney Livingston: One of the most empathetic and nice "doctors". Super smart as well, as seen from his SAT scores and of course, going to Harvard Medical School. His lifelong friendship with Laura. Not to mention, he becomes a psychiatrist.

9. Hank Rearden: Surprisingly, it was Hank Rearden that I fell in love with, more than the other alleged heroes of the book, John Galt and Francisco D'Anconia. Even more than Howard Roark (despite being an architect). I felt that John Galt was too mythical, too removed from everyday life. And somehow, never warmed to Francisco. But Hank Rearden was it. His relentless pursuit of perfection, supporting his ungrateful parent, living and fighting for the best in this world. Unlike John Galt who was not a part of this world, this guy was here and was fighting. He was for real!

10. Robot TN-3 (aka Tony): from the Asimov short story, "Satisfaction Guaranteed". The fact that I loved this robot is one my my deepest secrets. This story goes to the root of Asimov: why all he wrote was human emotion disguised as science-fiction. I've always loved Asimov, but most of all his Robot series. And Susan Calvin.

This is quite a comprehensive list of how my reading developed as I grew up. After this, of course, I developed an insatiable appetite for M&B's and devoured them endlessly for the next seven odd years.

Now that I have created this tag, I tag: Richa, Psych Babbler, Kiran, Sunshine, Rimi, Cee Kay, Sayesha, Sue, IHM and Akash.

Kitchen Queen

2010-06-30T23:24:00.000-07:00

I'm extremely possessive of my kitchen.

And that is a statement I never thought I would ever make in this life...

All through school and college, I used to abhor cooking. To the extent that I did not even know how to switch on and light the gas stove! I actually learnt how to light a match for the first time when I was in class 6- and that too by fluke. My parents had gone out and I was alone at home and there was a power-cut. I was scared of sitting in the dark and even more scared of lighting a match. As they say, you can do anything if you are desperate. And so I learned to strike a match and light a candle!

Being the arrogant teenager and adult that I was, I would boast that I would never enter a kitchen in my life. I would obviously have a cook/maid to do all my cooking while I was out working. It never occurred to me that we often have to eat our words- in this case, quite literally. Because then I came to the US!

And so I started cooking. And cooking and cooking. It started off as a necessity at first, since I loved food and I could not eat un-tasty food. I needed to make good food so that I could eat. Yes, loving food is a sure-fire way of learning to cook it well- I could barely swallow it otherwise. Eventually, I learnt to love cooking. I loved to create and recreate, to embellish and experiment, to refine and hone. I realized that food was more than something to eat- it is a form of creativity, expression and most of all, love. Food speaks!

This also translated into my obsession with a neat and clean kitchen. I can't cook in a dirty kitchen. Of course, I gradually became completely OCD over the state of the kitchen-everything had to be just so, the dishes had to be in the proper places, the counters had to be gleaming, the stove-top shining, etc etc. So I usually hated it when other people came into my kitchen and messed around - wait, that spoon is half-a centimeter to the left!!

With time, I did get over my obsession (or maybe just got better at hiding my neuroses). Now, I am no longer so obsessive about cleanliness as I used to be. I realize its not the most important thing if it makes me unhappy and fretful.

Yes, I still am a little obsessive and possessive. And when I look back at my stupid teenage self, I can't help but wonder at her arrogance. Never go into the kitchen?

Now, my kitchen is my kingdom!!

Image source:http://www.hgtv.com/kitchens/tour-the-top-10-amazing-kitchens/pictures/page-7.html

Brain Addict

2010-06-26T10:39:00.001-07:00

I've been thinking about writing this for some time now. About what I find attractive in men.
What makes me pause mentally and give them a second look... as in Ohho, this guy deserves to be looked at twice :)
The short list starts with Wit and Humor!
When somebody makes a witty remark/ comment, I lift an appreciative eyebrow and acknowledge the wit/pun/comment. Of course, it is all mental- a mental touche of sorts!

I also like it if men are well-read and know how to carry on a conversation, that does not center exclusively on their work and interests. I am deeply impressed by men who can talk about anything from Popper and Kant to Choo and Birkin :)

But of course, there is one thing that overpowers all of this and more. The one trait that can make me melt in my shoes and become a simpering puddle of mush... intelligence! Brains that gleam and glitter and shine. And believe me, it shows.

Intelligence gets me like nothing else. I'm completely awed by such men. Whose sheer brainpower shines like a seductive aura around them. Sigh! I'm actually completely floored by displays of intelligence. Considering the range of things women fall for, I guess this is one of the better ones :)

Yes, I do stop and look over the intelligent men I meet. Who I mentally review a second -- even a third -- time. Which makes me extremely thankful that my husband is the most intelligent man I know ;)

Cross-it Tag

2010-06-12T11:46:00.000-07:00

Just my idea of a lazy Sunday afternoon- a tag that allows me to do a post without actually thinking about it. Got it from PB. I thought the tag was quite interesting, the way it gives a little peep into the blogger's life.
The rule is that we just need to cross out things we have done. So here goes:

1. Graduated high school.
2. Kissed someone.
3. Smoked a cigarette.
4. Got so drunk you passed out.
5. Rode every ride at an amusement park.
6. Collected something stupid.
7. Gone to a rock concert.
8. Helped someone.
9. Gone fishing
10. Watched four movies in one night.
11. Lied to someone.
12. Snorted cocaine.
13. Smoked weed.
14. Failed a subject.
15. Been in a car accident.
16. Been in a tornado.
17. Watched someone die.
18. Been to a funeral.
~~19. Burned yourself.~~
20. Run a marathon.
21. Cried yourself to sleep.
22. Spent over 10,000 bucks in one day.
23. Flown on an aeroplane.
24. Cheated on someone.
25. Been cheated on.
26. Written a 10 page letter.
27. Gone skiing.
28. Been sailing.
29. Cut yourself.
30. Had a best friend.
31. Lost someone you loved.
32. Got into trouble for something you didn't do.
33. Stolen a book from the library.
34. Gone to a different country.
35. Watched the Harry Potter movies.
36. Had an online diary.
37. Fired a gun.
38. Gambled in a casino.
39. Been in a school play.
40. Been fired from a job.
41. Taken a lie detector test.
42. Swam with dolphins.
43. Voted for someone on a reality TV show.
44. Written poetry.
45. Read more than 20 books a year.
46. Gone to Europe.
47. Loved someone you shouldn't have.
48. Used a colouring book over age 12.
49. Had a surgery.
50. Had stitches.
51. Taken a Taxi.
52. Had more than 5 IM conversations going on at once.
53. Been in a fist fight.
~~54. Suffered any form of abuse.~~
55. Had a pet.
56. Petted a wild animal.
~~57. Had your own credit card & bought something with it.~~
58. Dyed your hair.
59. Got a tattoo.
60. Had something pierced.
61. Got straight As.
62. Known someone personally with HIV or AIDS.
63. Taken pictures with a webcam.
64. Lost something expensive.
65. Gone to sleep with music on.

This was fun! I tag Akash, Arnab, Sunshine and Chamaree :)

When Ugly Duckling meets Bollywood

2010-06-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

I still remember really liking the movie Khoon Bhari Maang when I saw it long ago. I was quite a young kid then, but now that I think back, even then I had my priorities straight :)
After all, what was not to like in a vengeful murder story where the woman triumphs over evil?

I remember that I was really happy when Rekha transforms into this super-hot confident woman from a mousy male-dependant housewife. And then goes on to kill the guy (technically still her husband) for good measure.

Of course there was lots of filmi drama, but what's a good bollywood movie without it? And without all the masala and the hot songs and dances and swimsuit sequences and heroines prancing about on horses, wielding whips as they whip the bad guy- yup, that's what Rekha did in the last scenes of the movie. If one started analysing the movie from a socio-psychological viewpoint, I am wondering what the latter would be a trope for?

Yet, for the late 80's the movie was extremely progressive and feminist. No wronged 'bharatiya naari' stuff where she still forgives her husband and takes him back lovingly (aka Biwi no. 1). No godfather in the wings waiting to give monetary help- she sold her own diamond earrings to finance her plastic surgery, no finding another male saviour to avenge her, but taking her own revenge. I wonder why they no longer make such movies, so entertaining and yet with some semblance of a moral and a story!

Of course, the movie does have this theme that women's empowerment comes from a beautiful face and body. Which is not something that I am very comfortable with. But I feel that at some level its true (unfortunate, but true!). The movie also argues for financial independence, which we can all agree is extremely important, irrespective of gender.

Here's one of my favorite songs from the movie. Because the song talks about exploring ways to live life fully. To be more than what you are. And of course, for the suave Kabir Bedi ;)

Running after Time

2010-06-07T00:03:00.000-07:00

So I've been really irritated lately (yes, I know you're thinking, what's new about that!) with one particular behavior exhibited by fellow-human beings- that of having some sort of remote claim on my time.
Maybe this is a by-product of living in the US, but I have become extremely possessive of my time. Since life is so fast paced here, I prefer to spend the little time I have the way I want to. Even if the way I want is to stare at the ceiling vacantly!

I resent people demanding that I call them regularly, and here regularly is once every 2-3 days. I really don't have a problem talking occasionally- I mean, once a week is enough- and that is all I can take of their conversation anyway! And I hate even more that I have to listen to things like "Oh, You're so busy.. you never have time to call".
Well, guess what? I'm having second thoughts about this call too!

The second kind are the people who want me to go somewhere, visit something etc. which I have not the least inclination to do, but they want me to. And if they call me and ask me to come/go somewhere, it is guaranteed that I won't.
In fact, there was this one place that I really wanted to go, for one particular occasion. And of course, a well-meaning person had to call and tell me not to forget to do so. I got so unreasonably irritated that despite the fact that I really really wanted to go, I did not!
Yes, I'm completely capable of cutting my nose off to spite my face (I really get angry!).

Its not that I am super-productive with the time I have. Or that I waste all of it away either. But somehow, I feel that apart from my close family, nobody else has the right to my time.
It is my most precious resource. And if I choose to spend it sleeping, reading or staring at the ceiling, that's my choice.

Image Source: http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/chicago/green-ideas/thrifty-ideas-from-danny-seos-new-place-046145

The Ends don't Justify the Medium

2010-05-25T12:08:00.000-07:00

What puts me off most when I read people's blogs?
Strange as it seems, not the opinions. I do think that each of us has the right to have- and air-their own opinions. What really irritates me- and often, leads me to stop reading mid-sentence- are things that I find inexcusable in any form of writing. Grammatical errors/ typos, and the use of sms-ese. Rite?

As I said above, I respect your opinions. But the means used to express the opinion also needs to to be respected. The language is often mutilated beyond recognition. Sms-ese is not English, by any stretch of the imagination. Even more so when you are using it in a public forum. We already know that you don't know English, you really do not have to prove it to the world as well!

Even more cringe worthy is bad grammar. And the worst of the lot are spelling mistakes. I mean, if you are using sms-ese and you know it, fine, but if you are using proper English and then making horrendous errors, it is a lot worse. If you don't know English, please use grammar check in MS Word. And then Spell-Check in MS Word. That will make life easier for all of us.

Very often, I chance on some random blog and start reading, only to find that the language is stilted, not flowing correctly, or just plain wrong! I can not begin to describe my irritation when I think of the multitude of blogs that manage to attain the above distinction. Then I wonder, if something is truly better than nothing? A little knowledge (in this case, of the English Language) is truly a dangerous thing.

What makes it worse? That these semi-literate people go on happily writing, leaving the rest of us utterly frustrated. For two reasons: one, we have to read such stuff and feel sorry for the English language, its users and its readers. Secondly, the sheer blindness of fools.

Just because it is a blog does not mean that the medium of expression can be compromised. It does not make the rules any less stringent. I use Hindi all the time in my writing, but that does not mean I make any grammar errors in my English.

Language is a tool to be used- used for crafting paragraphs, poetry and prose. Language is a medium of communication. Language is a means of expression. Please, use this medium with the respect it deserves. Just because you know it does not allow you to use it incautiously (or even because you do not know it, as can be seen). The end- in this case, self-expression- does not justify misusing the means.

Friday Tag

2010-04-23T14:20:00.000-07:00

Since I want to write and don't know what to write, am doing a tag by my friend.

The tag goes.. "If I were..."

If I were a month: I would be August. Because it is unpredictable, sometimes hot and sultry, sometimes pouring with rain, thunder and lightning, carrying both the lingering heat of summer and the promise of a coming winter.
If I were a day of the week: I would be Saturday. When half the weekend and its joys are gone, and when responsibilty comes knocking back. Yet, knowing that Sunday is yet to come. Tinged with sadness, yet full of happiness of the present.
If I were a time of day: I would be night. Calm, quiet, contained. Contented in itself.
If I were a season: I'd be the monsoons in India. Waited for desperately to take away the heat, they come all noise and flashing light, awe-inspiring, flamboyant, loud.
If I were a planet: I would be Venus. Woman all through!
If I were a direction: I would be North.
If I were a piece of furniture: I would be a cosy one-seater sofa. On which one can curl up and read a book.
If I were a liquid: I would be Tea. My elixir of life. My caffeine fix. Aromatic. Deep.
If I were a tree: Eucalyptus. Because there were a lot of these where I was growing up. And I love the smell.
If I were a tool: I would be a hammer. Blunt, driving the point home without finesse. No diplomacy- that's me!
If I were a flower: Chrysanthemum. Showy, decorative, big and pretty :)
If I were an element: I'd be Mercury. Sometimes liquid, sometimes solid. Quicksilver!
If I were a gemstone: I would be Pearls. Born of oysters. In all colors from black to pink to white. Artificial or real. Round and pretty.
If I were a kind of weather: Rainy and/or cloudy. Sometimes wistful and tremulous, sometimes dark and threatening.
If I were a musical instrument: I would be the flute. Because that is how I want to be: tall and thin and beautiful.
If I were a color: Red. Rich, flamboyant, vibrant, alive, sultry.
If I were an emotion: Anger. Can never control it and it takes me over. I only wish I had better control over my anger!
If I were a fruit: Red Grapes- round, plump and ripe. Asking to be bit into to release their juices ;)
If I were a sound: I'd be a car horn: impatient, irritated and a little angry.
If I were a car: I would be the red Prius Hybrid. Environmentally conscious, innovative shape and form, sleek and beautiful.
If I were a material: I'd be a woven shawl. Warm and comfortable.
If I were a food: I would be coffee ice-cream. The perfect blend of bitter and sweet. And melting in warmth.
If I were a taste: I'd be sweet. I am sweet.
If I were a scent: I'd be citrus. Lemony, tangy and fresh!
If I were an object: I would be a mink blanket- warm, supersoft and luxurious, but sometimes smothering and suffocating.
If I were a song: I'd be "Mile Sur Mera Tumhara". I have friends from all communities, regions, states and religions of India. And I strongly believe that real people and real friendships transcend petty boundaries of divisiveness.
If I were a body part: I'd be the eyes- wherein you can see the depths of your soul.
If I were a place: I would be India. Torn, conflictiong, ravaged, and yet rising despite all odds.
If I were a facial expression: I would be the look that goes with "Paying attention". Listening. Because that is what I am for all my friends. A person to talk to.
If I were a pair of shoes: I'd be Mary Janes. Demure and young, budding with promise. And then add some heels- they become hot and attractive.

And mine is...

2010-04-16T22:52:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, I thought I would right a short piece on all the five sins: Kaama, Krodh, Lobh, Moha, Ahankaar. In that order. But being the capricious person that I am, I decided that I only wanted to write about mine. Yes, the one in the above list over which I have very little (make that minuscule) control: Krodh.
That's true: Anger is my greatest enemy. My downfall.

It has been said that of all the sins, anger is the only one that hurts the doer more than the receiver. Its true. Anger can burn you make you unhappy keep you smoldering resentful fuming-and exploding, but still- you are the epicenter of the explosion. You are the one who holds all that negativity and pain inside you which is regurgitated as anger.

Yes, I get angry very easily. And when I get angry, I get really angry. I scream and shout and cry- all at the same time. I hurt. And most of all, I hurt myself.
For as soon as it comes, it goes away. After a bout of screaming and shouting, I'm fine. And then I really regret my words. But as some wise person said "Words are like arrows shot from a bow. Once they leave, they can never be recalled"

Anger is really the most destructive emotion. Not because it hurts the person you are angry at; it destroys you.
I was reading CBD a few days ago. And in her book, she talks about how Draupadi held on to her anger for thirteen long years. How this single woman's anger brought about the Mahabharata. How she never let go of her anger, how she used it as a weapon. CBD then narrates the following scenario between Krishna and Draupadi :

"Krishna visits the Pandavas at their forest dwelling. Draupadi is cooking for him, when he suddenly pulls out a smoldering wooden log from the choolha and thrusts it at Draupadi. She lunges back, and then asks him, what is this?
He replies- this is what anger is. The fire smoldering inside this log. It smolders inside you and reduces you to nothing. "
(The Palace of Illusions, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni)

The Five Sins

2010-04-06T12:54:00.001-07:00

Remember class 8th? When we had to ratto a lot of Hindi grammar. One integral part of this was learning Hindi muhawaras, or sayings. Then we also had things which came in sets of three, four or five, stuff that came out of our ancient literature. I don't remember much, though there were the Three Doshas (Kafa, Vaata, Pitta); the five senses; the triumvirate of Gods, and, the set I want to talk about, the Five Sins. These were Kaama, Krodh, Lobh, Moha, Ahankaar. And at that time in my life, I did not understand, I did not know how these were THE five sins.

Now, I know. I get how these are the definitive sins not because these are just evil or bad, but because these are the most difficult to overcome. These come from within, self-generated thoughts and feelings and emotions. Which consume you.
Yes, these are the sins because to overcome these you have to control the self. These are not committed against you- these are you. Manifestations of your darker side. That erupt and explode and devour you, leave no place for rational thought and burn, burn you through!

So, in a way, I am starting a mini-series on this blog. Where each post will talk about one of these sins. I know which one of these is my besetting sin, the one that I can never control. That takes me over and turns me in to my Mr. Hyde.

What's yours?

Chahida Chahida Chahida Mainu!

2010-03-31T15:50:00.000-07:00

For those who don't know Punjabi, the title is translated as "I want, want, WANT!!!"
That is what I have been thinking these days- how our wants are usually endless. First its one thing, then the next and the next. I want all the time!
Of course, one can argue that this is a good thing, wanting keeps us on our toes and makes us competitive. Yet, I don't like it if this perpetual wanting takes away my sense of peace and inner contentment. The latter is what is most important to me- though of course, I want and want :)

What I really do not like is when we do not differentiate "want" from "need". Of course, we all want. We never have everything we want "..har kisi ko mukammal jahaan nahin milta..kabhi zameen to kabhi aasmaan nahin milta..."
But some people obsess so much about their wants that it overshadows the good in their lives. And keep cribbing incessnatly (I've been guilty of this a LOT!). Though lately, I have tried to stop cribbing and be happy for my blessings. So this makes me even more irritated with people who are always whining or cribbing about something or the other.

On a separate but related note, I also think that the more materialustic (the spelling is intentional) a society, the more we have no internal system of balances to keep wanting in check. Though "thou shall not covet" and be envious, it is almost impossible not to. Even in India, consumption is the new rage. More, better, faster, bigger, smaller, blingier. Mine!

Here's this awesome song that captures this so well:

A B C D Chaida Mainu
wo DVD Chaida Mainu
CTV bhi Chaida Mainu
LCD Bhi Chaida Mainu

Laal Mercedes Chaidi Mainu
Laal Kila Bhi Chaida Mainu
Haa Haa Chaida Ho Ho Chaida

Mainu Chaida Chaida Chaida
Chaida Chaida Chaida
Chaida Chaida Chaida
Chaida Chaida Chaida

Self-Help Junkie

2010-03-26T17:18:00.001-07:00

I discovered Self-Help books after coming to the US, since I did not know much about them back home. And now I am a dedicated follower. Of course, there are self-help books on/for everything: how to find a date/man; how to give a great blow-job; how to save your marriage; how to raise great kids; how to get a job; how to be a writer; how to be happy; how to be positive; how to cook; how to lose weight; how to learn karate; how to live... you name it, and there is a self-help book for it!

And I am a sucker for them all! Self-help books are my go-to for all my problems. You'll find them everywhere around me- on my bedstand, my bookshelf, my Kindle! Because I like to think that there is a solution that I can find in these pages. And then once I apply it, everything will be a happily ever after. These books give me hope- that I can make myself and my life better. Even though I barely apply much of the advice. Yet, I still love reading them!

Image source:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/joepublic/2009/feb/27/self-help-books-blog

Perennial Grocery List

2010-02-28T22:40:00.000-08:00

I am an anal Grocery lister. I make grocery lists ALL the time.
And then make their back-ups. I used to get so upset if/when I lost my first list, that now I make sure every list I make has a back-up copy as well (Yeah, I know I'm anal!).

In fact, sometimes I feel I'm always making some sort of grocery/ to-do/ to buy list. And I usually am, in my head. In class, if I'm getting bored, my mind goes... tomato, pyaaz, aalu, dahi, milk, eggs and bread! Or If I'm giving a party, I plan my actions in the minutest detail... boil chickpeas, cut gobhi, make sabzi, then curry, then lay the table, take out the glasses.... I plan out the order like a major king would make a battle plan.

So I can never shop without a list. I feel rudderless, as if my moorings are lost. I feel handicapped without my lists. Sometimes I get tired of this incessant list making in my mind, and I want it to stop. But the only way I can stop my mind's list is to write it down... and on and on it goes. I have to go to school early tomorrow- and my mind is already laying out the steps, right up to catching the 8:33 AM train!

Its tiring and irritating, and yet I'm not alone. There are other people like me!

Of shoes and shawls

2010-02-16T10:48:00.000-08:00

Is there this one thing that you can never have enough of? That is your one weakness every time you go into some shop/mall? Clothes? Skirts? Jewellery? Handbags? Shoes???
Yes, that's mine. SHOES!! I love shoes..and no matter how many I have, I never have enough. Or never have the right ones for the right occasion. I have to go and look at shoes whichever mall I go to, whichever shop I go to. Though I am so finicky about the kind of shoes I like/want, that I end of not buying most of the time. Something is always wrong- too high, too low, too narrow, too pointed, too tight, too loose, too ugly...
It takes a lot to find the perfect shoe. And believe me, I'm always looking. I often spend hours and hours on department store websites, just looking and looking. Of course, most (like Neiman Marcus) are ones I can not afford. But can always look :)

My Mom has this simialr obsession with shawls..she can never have enough. She's always buying shawls...so she has this amazing collection, encompassing all colors of the world. Like autumn colors woven with sunlight. Like mustard and white flowers. Like tapestries. She buys most of her shawls from Bhuttico, which makes some of the best shawls in the world.
She has some of the most wondrous weaves, so soft they feel like a gentle sun on your shoulders... yes, I have also inherited her love of shawls. And even better, have inherited some of the shawls too :)
Whenever she buys some shawls for herself, she usually gets an odd one for me too! And so I too have fallen under this spell of shawls. I love wearing them, warm and gentle and comfortingly wrapped around. Trailing softly and gracefully.

My latest addiction

2010-02-07T10:29:00.001-08:00

I don't know if I have ever mentioned it before on this blog, but books are my lifeline. I just cannot live without reading. If I go too long without books, I feel as if something is missing in my life. My whole being craves books. And yes, its almost always fiction. I started reading when I was in grade 2- with the usual Enid Blytons, and Archie's comics.
Nowadays, I devour anything- from trashy romances to self-help to Booker winners- its all irresistible to me. I have often spent all night continuously reading and not being able to put down the book, only to miss school, college, work the next day. Its my greatest addiction.

I starkly remember the first time that I spent all night reading- it was Midnight's Children. I read the whole book non-stop, in a single reading. It took me about 16 straight hours. And of course, I missed school the next day. The next book that I could not stop in between was Lord of the Rings (the entire series). The book is simply amazing. Then came Harry Potter! And quite recently, the complete Princess Diaries series (as the pattern clearly shows, I've been regressing :)

These days, I am hooked onto Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. I have read some of her books earlier, and quite liked them. But I recently found almost all of her works in the local library, and got them all to read. And got hooked. She has to be one of the best writers I have come across in a long time (and given my reading history, that is saying something).

The was she describes emotions, pain, life.... with her words, its as if she puts her hand deep into your guts and wrenches them out. It is raw, visceral pain. She makes my soul ache. Her books are mesmerizing, incredible in the way they capture everyday human pain, and desire and complex emotions.

She leaves me with a profound sense of sorrow, of pain... of unhappiness. And yet, some strange sense of fulfillment. Reading her books is like going through an emotional roller coaster. Still, I wouldn't miss the ride for anything!

Some Morning Thoughts

2010-01-26T09:58:00.000-08:00

Just read
1. http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2010/01/24/dheeyaan-dee-maa-rani-bhudhaapey-bharey-paani/
2. http://doctorofphilosphy.blogspot.com/2010/01/indian-women.html

Now I'm going to be depressed the whole day!

What makes it worse is that this attitude pervades and permeates the pores of our country. It is like talking and breathing, it is everywhere, is is normal. It is all right to think like this. Its perfectly legitimate to want sons. People don't even stop to consider that this is something that could possibly ever be questioned.

This happened to me yesterday night. I was talking to Mom, and she was, as usual, bemoaning the fact that I don't have kids (read son). The latest in a series of ideas about how to have children is to keep a mannat. That is basically saying to God that I would do such-and-such if you give me so-and-so.

Like a true negotiator, she gave me a real world example (real people I know)
"There was this woman in our colony, who had three daughters. She kept this mannat that she would go to the temple every day for 40 days, and do jhadu-poccha there. For 40 days non-stop... ab to uska beta jawaan ho gaya hai"

Do you want me to list everything that is wrong in the above statement? It might take another 2-3 hours. I felt immensely sorry for this poor woman, who must have been hounded to death by our society for producing 3 daughters. And the only way she could get respect and any worth whatsoever was to beget a son.
But my Mom only saw her as a winner- a winner who worked hard to get that most coveted of prizes, a son.
Anyway, the point is that when narrating this story, my Mom did not even think that this was offensive, wrong or anything. For her, this only demonstrated that God can fulfill all wishes, and give you a son.

My Dad (who's the most enlightened person in the whole world) actually gave me a real world reason to have a son. When I was arguing with my parents, why son?, he said something prosaic, practical and a Parthian shot:

"Sasuraal mein reputation ban jaati hai"

Cultural Stereotyping: Tale of 2 States

2010-01-17T14:56:00.000-08:00

I just finished 2 States, Chetan Bhagat's latest. He tells the 'love' story of a Punjabi guy and a Tamil girl, who want to get married but have to bridge the North-South divide. Though I am a cultural snob and think that his writing is pedestrian at best, I still could not put the book down. No matter how cliched everything is, it still touches you. And makes you laugh. I was laughing out loud ALL THE TIME- and you know why? Because he gets it. He takes all the possible cultural stereotypes, which you already know, and hate (or like) and still makes it sound interesting. He makes fun of everything, be it the Punjus or the Tambis.

Secondly, I could truly relate to the story. I married a 'Madrasi' too- a Telugu guy, not exactly Madrasi, but you know, they're all the same ;)
But yes, there were distinct correlations between my story and the book. It's never easy to bridge the North-South divide. It took time and patience- and I have to admit, my husband did everything. He took the time and patience, I just stood around screaming and making things worse.

I loved all the stereotypes in the book. He puts it all so well and in such a funny way. From eating, talking, dancing, living... oh everything! Its actually almost incomprehensible that these vastly different cultures belong to one country. One line of his captured the complete essential difference in the cultures:

"Marble floors are to Punjabis what U.S. degrees are to Tamilians".
(as in, both can induce mini-orgasms in the respective cultural psyche).

One of the most insightful cultural differences is about how to cut vegetables. I have had huge and often vituperous debates with my friends about this. This is so basic, so innate and so banal, yet so true. Punjabis cut vegetables using their thumb as a base. That's how I cut vegetables, and that's how everybody in my world has always done it. When my world expanded (came to the US, met people from different cultures) I got to know that this was not the only way to do it. Of course, I still do it as I am very used to this and so very very fast using this way- its more efficient and works for me. So this has been an issue with me- after all, I almost alienated a friend by telling him that my way was right!

So when Bhagat actually talks about this, I was beyond impressed. I mean, he knew this small cutural artefact and that this is different in different cultures. It is such perfect attention to detail. And he's a guy- men would never even notice that such a thing exists (I mean, they barely notice the food, different methods of chopping vegetables?). This fact in the book just hit me. And made me love the stereotypes even more.

I am not saying the stereotyping was good. Or bad. That is exactly how we are. We are the stereotypes that Chetan Bhagat captures so well. Yet, he says in an interview that this North-South divide does need to be lessened. As he puts it, its good for national integration. Well, I am glad I have done my bit for furthering that goal :)

How to give the Perfect Party

2010-01-12T11:47:00.000-08:00

My mother is a stickler when it comes to giving parties. She is very very particular about this: not only should the food taste perfect, it should look perfect. The way it was presented was just as important, if not more, than the way it tasted. To this day, I follow all her norms when I give a party or invite people over for dinner. It makes me more than anal, but what the heck, the results are beautiful. My dinner table looks good! Here are some tenets that I gleaned and use all the time:

1. All the subzis/dishes should be of different colors: this was one of the most essential rules. This added variety and beauty of its own. Her favorite combination was Chane (dark-brown), baked cauliflower (yellow) and paneer curry (orange) or bhindi (green). She was so insistent on this rule that its deeply ingrained in my head. I always always always follow this. My favorite color combo is rajmah (dark-red), capsicum (green), mushroom-paneer(light-orange).

2. The paper napkins were arranged in a twisting ascending spiral between the plates. The napkins were placed such that one corner peeked out, then the next plate was put on top with its napkin corner starting where the one below ended. It looked beautiful!

3. The spoons were arranged in a pattern: either inverted V or some other design. They were never just kept there.

4. The chutneys had to be 2/3 colors: these were kept in matching bowls in the center. She generally put achaar (orange), ketchup (red) and walnut-garlic chutney (green) (this was my Mom's uber specialty, the tastiest chutney in the world) in the center.

5. Use the teaspoons for dessert- and never mix the tea- and table-spoons. I remember being scolded if I ever did mix them up.

6. The glasses were to be kept upside-down (I don't know why).

7. The table linen had to be perfect too. She has a gorgeous collection of hand-embroidered table mats that we used for such occasions. And the table cloth was either net or hand emboidered applique or some such.

8. The accompaniments had to be even and just so. For example, if we had chopped onion to go with the chane, they had to be finely and evenly chopped. The carrots had to be cleanly grated. The dhaniya was to be cut in even pieces (I can't even imagine what effort that took).

9. The appetizer drink glasses were the small ones, the water glasses were the big ones etc. So make sure everything goes into the right glasses.

You know what, I have not even started talking about the food yet. Even an extra pinch of haldi was not tolerated- after all, that could drastically change the color. Giving a dinner party in my house meant planning down to the perfect last detail. Even the hand-towels in the guest bathroom were matched!

No wonder, my husband goes crazy everytime I have a party at home. Though no matter how hard I try, I can never match the perfection of my mother's parties. Can never cook that well. Or make the chutneys, or chop the onions finely.
But I do get the glasses right. And the linen. And the cutlery and crockery. And the appetizers. And the matching hand-towels!

(Image source: http://www.potterybarn.com/products/sumner-dining-table/?pkey=csquare-rectangular-tables)

Toe Rings

2010-01-06T12:11:00.000-08:00

Do you like toe-rings?

I love wearing them. I think they are really fashionable and stylish.
I got three pairs of really pretty sparkling silver ones with colored gems a few months ago. One has a shimmering opal in the center with small colored gems around it, the second one is a checkerboard of different colored sparkling gemstones and the third is an S-shaped purple something.

It took me a while to get used to wearing them. I still have to remove them when I wear sports shoes or narrow shoes, since they keep cutting my toes. And they are always too loose or too tight! But despite all the inconveniences, I still like to wear them... after all, they look so pretty :)

Of course, toe-rings- as with every Indian ornament- have a deeper meaning. Wearing toe-rings signifies that the woman is married (it is the Indian equivalent of the wedding ring). And is mandatory in some regions of the country. Yes, that's how I started wearing them too. But then, I started liking them for their own beauty, not for their significance. They area a pretty peice of jewellery.

Shouldn't we be wearing jewellery because it makes us happy, rather than because it signifies such-and-such, or because its mandatory?

The Spark of Difference

2010-01-05T16:13:00.001-08:00

What makes a genius? Or even an above-intelligent person?
How does one recognize the SPARK? The Spark that differentiates lowly mortals from the true geniuses?
No, this discussion is not sparked (pun intended) from 3 idiots. Though of course, parallels can be drawn. But I still think that a lot of people who get into the IIT do not necessarily have the spark (having been in one, I know!)
I was actually thinking about this for the last few days, and was wondering what makes a genius. I have seen a lot of people do really well in school, but that is mostly a ton of hard work and diligence. They don't have the spark.

So what is it? How do we define it? How do we find it?
Are we born with it? Or can we grow into it?
Is it a mindset? An Attitude? A brain?

Since I had no answers, I decided to do an observational study. Divide all the people I know into two categories "Spark" and "No Spark". But this turned out to be a reflection of my thoughts, and an extremely subjective process. It was simply, and ONLY, my own perception. Which, I am the first to admit, can be and IS extremely biased.
I still don't know. Grades don't cut it for me- you can be bad in school, and still have the spark. The closest that I can get to is what Rancho says in 3 idiots- that grades ke peechhe mat bhaago, knowledge ke peechhe bhago.

Is that the answer?

The Nephew Strikes Again

2009-12-24T08:18:00.000-08:00

Have I mentioned my idiot nephew (IN) to you? Oh yes I have, he's here and here (in the latter, his Mom is the bhabhi I talk about). That he represents the next generation of India sends shivers down my spine. So here's the latest episode of my nephew's font of wisdom.

I was visiting him this summer, since I was in India. Since he does no work around the house, throws litter and garbage wherever he happens to be at the moment (throwing toffee wrappers on the floor next to the bed, tossing an empty food bag on the dining table etc.), expects his Mom to obey all his shouted commands (she does) and generally behaves like a brat, I was a 'bit' irritated anyway. So when he was about to go and get ready, the following conversation happened:

IN: Mummy, mere kapde nikaal ke rakhna, I am going to have a bath.
(This is a 20 year old guy we are talking about.)
Me: Well, you should do it yourself, why should your Mom take out and keep all your clothes ready?
IN: Kyun, aap Jiju (referring to my husband) ke kapde nahi nikaalti ho kya?
Me: Of course not! He can take care of himself.
IN: And he does not say anything to you ?
Me: No, why should he?
IN: Tabhi aap itne bigade huye ho!

I was beyond speechless. This is wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to start.

On the bright side, he and his Mom have singlehandedly kept this blog alive!!

How to carry on the family name

2009-11-26T13:44:00.000-08:00

I am doing a class project on female foeticide and found this online.

From the website http://theinspirationroom.com/daily/2008

AADHAR, an organisation in India dedicated to campaign against systemic violation of women’s rights, prepared this very disturbing press advertisement revealing the too common practice of female foeticide. The advertisement won a Gold Press Lion at Cannes 2008. In India, every year 1.1 million unborn baby girls die before they are born. Unfortunately the men who insist on these abortions have little idea of what really happens in the theatre.

Read point no. 7 ...

Explain Caste?

2009-11-16T17:47:00.004-08:00

I was doing an assignment on Cultural Diversity with a friend today, and we repeatedly came across the word "caste" in relation to India. So he asked me what the word "Caste" meant since he had never heard it before.

I was flummoxed. How do you explain caste?
How does one condense several hundred years of history into a few pithy sentences? A hundred years of opression and injustice? I tried, of course. And gave him a crash course on the Hindu caste system.

I started with the four castes. How people were classified by birth (though it was hard to explain "untouchables"- he did not get the concept). Schedules castes and tribes. OBC's. How marriages were fixed only within castes. The caste honor system.
Reservations. Mandal Commision. Self-immolation. Supreme court rulings, the creamy layer, admissions in college. Caste Politics, Mayawati, Laloo Prasad Yadav.

He resolved never to ask me the meaning of any word he did not know.

A woman's ubiquitous Tool

2009-11-11T19:39:00.007-08:00

What is the one tool that a woman almost always has? A woman from any country in the world? (and there is no need to get dirty here ;)
Any guesses?

Tweezers/Plucker

This truth dawned on me a few days ago while talking to a friend from Tunisia. We were discussing eyebrow threading and she mentioned that she often uses a plucker. A couple of years ago, another of my friends from China was using a plucker. So do most Americans (though I don't have empirical evidence for this). So do most Indian women.

Image source:
http://www.alconeco.com/products/tools/tweezers_and_twissors/mother_plucker_tweezer

Of course, this raises a lot of questions about how body hair is deemed ugly on women. I don't see men waxing their hair or shaving their legs. Apart from, of course, Shahrukh Khan. I love his waxed clean chest. Lovvvvvvve it!!!!! (I had to emphasize that).

That raises another question... how do you all like your men? Hairy or less hairy?

Thursday Tag

2009-10-29T20:53:00.016-07:00

I am bored and have a lot of homework to do. Since I will do anything to avoid studying, I am going to do a tag that I have been thinking of doing for some time now. Obviously, the only way to make me write on my blog is to threaten me with studies! It is borrowed from my friend here.

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn on page 18 and find line 4.
Communication is also affected by the physical environment.

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can & catch?
A beautiful pink-orange stole gifted to me by my Mausi.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
I have not watched TV since August. The last thing I saw was an Indian soap called "Uttran" in India.

4.Without looking, guess what time it is?
Around 9:30 PM.

5.Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
It is 9:08 PM

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
Another computer.

7.When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
3 days ago, on Tuesday afternoon (its Thursday night now). I went to school.

8. Before you started this Q&As, what did you look at?
The front door- to check if it was locked (it was not!)

9.What are you wearing?
A green skirt and a red T-shirt.

10. When did you last laugh?
I really don't remember. Sad, na?

11. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
Nothing at all.

12. Seen anything weird lately?
Well, I got a packet of garlic cloves and they have gone bad and are spouting fungus. That is weird, since I kept them refrigerated all the time.

13. What do you think of this quiz?
Inane. But then, I don't have to study.

14. What is the last film you saw?
"What's your Rashee?"
Saw it last Sunday.

15. If you became a multimillionaire overnight, what would you buy?
Two BMW's- the sedan and the SUV and two mansions, one in India and one in the U.S.

16. Tell me something about you that I dunno!
Since I don't know who is asking this question, it can't have a valid answer.

17. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?
I would want Indians to be happy when a girl is born.

18. Do you like to Dance?
Yes. It is what makes me the happiest in the whole world. I forget everything and give myself to it.

19. Imagine your first child is a girl , what do you call her?
Raunak (it is a Punjabi word, impossible to translate)

20. Imagine your first child is a boy , what do you call him?
Advait (meaning "the One")

21. Would you ever consider living abroad?
I already do.

22. What do you want GOD to say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
Welcome to my world!

Ironical Superstitions

2009-10-22T12:32:00.008-07:00

I have always been a very superstitious person, taking to heart the million or so do's and dont's that I grew up with. Everything from not going out after sneezing, black cat crossing, chappal chadhna, etc. A lot of them revolved around Saturday.

One of the most basic tenets was NEVER NEVER EVER to buy loha (iron) on a Saturday. This would offend Shani and bring his wrath upon you! It was like a patthar ki lakeer for us. My mom would not even buy as much as a spoon (since steel is derived from iron) that day. And I thought that this was something that most of India followed, since Shani is worshipped all over the country.

Quite recently, I was talking to an Indian friend who was buying a car. On Saturday. Me being the superstitious person that I am, told her that she could not possibly even conceive of buying a car (that's a LOT of iron) on Saturday. And she told me that in her state (in South India) one is supposed to buy on a Saturday. That it is good to do so!

That left me flabbergasted. And made me wonder. The superstitions that I grew up by and would swear by, reverted and inverted. IN THE SAME COUNTRY. It was not somebody from another country who was questioning my beliefs (which maybe I could understand). We had exactly the opposite ideas.

Another such incident happened a month ago. I moved into a apartment, and my in-laws told me to boil milk- and let it boil over- as a good omen in the new house. This was so that there is always "plenty" in the house. Now, in North India, milk boiling over is considered a very bad omen (witness the number of Hindi films with mothers-in-law screaming Apshagun, Hai Raaam if the hapless overburdened daughter-in-law was doing something else and the milk boiled over). Again, the same event reinterpreted from top to bottom!

So what did it mean, if anything? Did this not just show that all our superstitions are just that? If people in the same country can have diametrically different perpectives on the same thing, then it really does go to show that maybe we should question these beliefs.

Meanwhile, I'm still keeping my chappals straight and not buying iron on Saturday!

Ignored blog gets some love from a friend

2009-09-27T11:41:00.008-07:00

I got my first ever blog award. Yippeee!! And from a friend whose blog I love- and who blogs much better and more than I do. Thanks a lot, Rich!

You have inspired me to blog again. I have been a bad girl and have been ignoring my blog. Will come back soon. As soon as I settle down in the new place and get an internet connection :)

Happy Women's Day

2009-03-08T14:52:00.010-07:00

As is my wont, I read the Sunday TOI and HT religiously (an old habit from childhood). As I read the papers today, they were full of news about Women's Day. Not only had they conducted extensive surveys, they also had the more 'prominent' women in India write their take on the importance of the day/ being a women.

I can only say it saddened me, depressed me, made me feel even worse. I think India treats it women badly. I also think that most of Indian culture is premised on the basis of women's oppression. Though a friend disagrees, what does he know? He is but a man!

India/Indian culture is a multi-headed monster, each of its heads incessantly pecking away at a woman's dignity, hope, freedom, liberty and agency. It never gives up. It often rears its head as a publicised Ram Sene incident, or a Sanjay Dutt news story.
But more often, India manifests itself in everyday small events, that never make the news. You know what being a woman in India is about? It is about slowly surrendering your dignity and hope to the larger beast of India.

It is about being groped in a crowded bus/train every day.
It is about knowing that you can never go out at night.
It is about not wearing what you want to wear.
It is about fighting to go to college.
It is about begging for a chance to study.
It is about choosing/ not choosing your life partner.
It is about dowry.
It is about wanting to learn how to dance.
It is about the liberty to choose/ unchoose to have kids.
It is about how I choose to spend my evening.
It is about public space (or the lack of it).
It is about how I spend the money I have.
It is about traveling alone.
It is about sitting in a pub and drinking (or atleast having the freedom to do so).
It is about having only sons.
Heck- it is even about the aashirwad you get- putrwati bhav:

It is about my mother telling me that she wants me to have a son. Because she could not have one. That she has waited 40 years for a son.
And I don't blame her. She's been mistreated by society who does not respect a daughter's mother. She wants better for me- and in her eyes, the only way to get there is to have a son.

It is about being pitied when you have a daughter.

It is about every girl child that is aborted.
My cousin sister did that. She already had two daughters, and so when her third child was a girl, she had it aborted. And eventually had a son.

It is about every single aunt, uncle and relative who knew about this incident and said it was a good decision.

It is about not getting married. After a certain age, a girl lives with the stigma of being single. She is an object of pity and sympathy- and the victim of every real/pseudo astrologer ascetic who can claim to find a cure for her singleness in her stars.

It is about every vrat, prayer and mannat a girl does/makes to get a husband.
It is about every relative's voice of pity as they bemoan your sorry state.

It is about how 'good girls' don't drink.
It is about why arranged marriages are better than love.
It is about duty.

It is about feeding your husband.
It is about washing his clothes.
Disclaimer- I don't want to say that the above is bad/good. Only that it should be a choice. Not a SACRED DUTY!!

It is about being told that your foremost duty is to keep house for your husband.

It is about sexuality. Or the fact that it should not exist.

It is about the fact that married women should not travel alone. Or leave their husbands alone at home to tend for themselves. How will the poor babies eat, clothe, sleep, drink, whatever?

It is about life. Or the fact that a woman should not have her own.

As I have reiterated often, a woman is not supposed to have her own life outside of her husband, kids and family (gasp! what else can she want!). And as usual, I was talking to one of my relatives (my bhabhi) who was trying to convince me to have a kid. She mentioned my cousin, who just had a daughter, saying that
"Pehle wo free hoti thhi.. ab wo saara din uske (apni beti) saath busy rehti hai"

Subtext: How awesome. That's what you should aim at too. Then you will have something to do with your life, a purpose to this childless existence of yours.
Well, that argument certainly convinced me!

Yes, I believed in female equality. Female freedom of choice. Once.
Now, I too often feel that there is no hope. No hope for any change. Its not about big gestures.
Its about what is entrenched in the minds of India's people. For every Sonia Gandhi, Renuka Chowdhary and Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, there are a thousand silent girls, who wearily give up hope.

It is about parents not wanting to spend on their daughter's education.
With higher education getting more and more expensive in India, parents often make a choice that the girl can go to the local college while the guy goes to an expensively bought place in engineering.

I am sad. I am angry. And it gets me down and drains me of any hope.
For this multi-headed hydra goes on and on... in the life of every Indian girl, eroding her shreds of dignity, never giving up..until she does!
I am just another one of them... tired of fighting, tired of standing up, tired of them all... who never let me be.

Alone? Still?

2009-02-10T10:05:00.007-08:00

Yesterday, some old family friends were visiting my parents. I happened to call home- and spoke to Uncle-Aunty as well. They've known me since I was a little kid.
And when I grew up, they were among the foremost people to be worried that I wasn't getting married. On time.
They even fixed me up two or three times- with their friends sons' (of course, it never worked out).

Considering that they were so worried about my single state, I assumed that they would be happy that I was married now. I last met them during my wedding (obviously they had been there), and this was the first time I spoke to them after that.

So the first thing Uncle says to me " Kya beta, still alone?"
I was flabbergasted.
"No, Uncle, I'm married now"

I felt this would make him happy, as he was always bothered by my unmarried state (I wonder why, since my family saw his about once a year). Though I would have taken offence at this statement even when I was single. But I could not think of anything else to say.

"I mean, you don't have kids. So of course you are alone."

Well, wow!! So first he kept fixing me up with random people, to remedy what he thought was wrong with my life. Now, he's still finding things wrong with it!!

But what bothered me most was the subtext.
A woman is alone till she's married. And she's even lonelier till she has kids.
She's never enough for herself. Her life, work, career, friends obviously don't count towards makin her any less lonely.
Hell, even the fact that she's married doesn't make a difference!!!

What happens when the kids grow up and leave? They, after all, define her life.
And the poor woman is alone. Again.

I can't even begin to get angry at this- because this is wrong at so many levels, I wouldn't know where to start. Yet I'm angry. Yet it bothers me. Yet, I don't know what to do.

Will people ever think a woman is complete in herself?

That she is GOOD ENOUGH for herself?

GJam Story

2009-01-27T12:39:00.011-08:00

I was feeling low, miserable and awful- which is quite a usual state for me. And whenever I do, I have this intense craving for something-anything- sweet. I just die for meetha...(which explains my size). Anyway, so on this day, my husband decided to make gulabjamuns for me.

Which was really sweet- not to mention ambitious of him.
He started with the Git GJam mix (you know, we, being the uber-cool gals that we were, called gulabjamuns GJams, golgappas Ggaps, Samosas Sams...etc. when in undergrad).

And before I knew it, he made a batter- yes, a BATTER- when it was supposed to be dough!!! We then started on the difficult business of converting batter to dough. Added tons of Maida, milk powder, sugar- and kept stirring. We still ended up with a sticky mix.

So finally, somewhere he decided that this was it. And went on to deep fry the lumps. Added them to the sugar syrup. And then hogged.
They were the best gjams of my life :)

Borrowed Tag

2009-01-17T18:33:00.004-08:00

A friend of mine tagged me on Facebook a few hours ago. And since I have nothing better to do with my life, I spent three hours doing the tag. Furthermore, I am reproducing it here- again, since I have nothing better to write about!

25 Random Facts About ... Me

1. My greatest desire in the whole world is to be thin- and it is also my greatest regret that till now, I have not been able to get there.

2. I cry in every single movie I see- even Shrek 3. Worst ever was Titanic, when I could not stop for 12 straight hours. And Veer-Zaara (don't ask).

3. I love FOOD- completely. Anything, anytime, any type. My wildest fantasies are ALL about food.

4. I am obsessive about dirty dishes and can't live with them. I have gotten up at 3:00 AM and cleaned the dishes (a number of times).

5. I love Shahrukh Khan. Completely.

6. I am an inveterate pill-popper and keep popping pills for the lamest excuses. Headache, stomache, lack of energy, any random pain, cold, laziness, grief, sulking, moody, unhappy, low... you name it, and I will promptly go and have a pill. And they DO make me feel better!

7. I love dancing. Its makes me feel really joyful. But only on Bollywood/ Bhangra.

8. The one thing I miss most about India is Chaat. And Golgappe. And Mithai. (its mostly all food).

9. I love BLING. The glitzier and shinier the better (that's the Punjabi in me).

10. I am the only one in my entire extended family to NOT have had an arranged marriage and the only one to have married outside my community.

11. I am a great Cook. I cook lovely tasty wonderful Indian food (mostly because I love food, and can't eat stuff I don't find delicious. So I make sure I cook it that way).

12. I have read more than 6,000 M&B's in my life (yes, now you know what a sucker I am for romance).

13. I can NOT eat sweet ice-cream. I have only had chocolate or coffee ice-cream for the last 18 years of my life. I hate ice-cream that is sweet!

14. I want to get my hair colored. Too scared about the consequences.

15. I am very scared of getting osteoarthritis/ porosis later in life and so I take calcium supplements daily.

16. I hate big cities and never want to live in one.

17. I want to see Europe- especially Rome and Venice- in my lifetime.

18. I am trying to start flossing daily but am too lazy. I only manage 2 times a week.

19. I have always wanted to get my nose pierced but am too scared and don't have the guts to go through with it. Also am not sure whether it will look good on me.

20. I love the smell of mingled cigarette smoke and sweet elaichi chai on a man's breath.

21. I have actually gone up to Nikhil Chinappa (MTV was visiting our college) and told him I loved him and that I had been in love with him for a number of years.

22. I really appreciate how all cars on the road stop when there is an ambulance/ fire engine/ emergency vehicle passing. This practice can mean a life saved- especially when I think about Indian traffic. So I am REALLY IMPRESSED with this.

23. I very often have nightmares in which my greatest fears materialize. I have often woken up crying or shaken/ scared.

24. I love dressing up in Indian clothes- and I think sarees/suits are way more graceful and beautiful than western wear.

25. I am one of the nicest people I know :)

Lighting up your life!!

2008-12-13T16:26:00.010-08:00

Yes- that is what I can say about Shahrukh Khan and his movies- and my life :)
He is the light of my life ( my husband comes a close second ;)
His movies are just so utterly feel good and make me really really happy and smiley and gooey and mushy :)
As you must have guessed by now, I saw "Rab ne bana di Jodi" yesterday. And still haven't stopped smiling. As usual. Me being the starry-eyed romantic that I am, I loved the movie.
I loved its premise. As I said a long time ago, SRK movies/ dialogues become the latest truth in my life. And this time, as always, its about love and loving and giving and making the right choices... even through impossible epiphanies.

And of course, I cried. Tears poured silently down my face as the girl realizes the value of true, silent, eternal love.. as she makes a difficult, but the right choice (this sentence sounds so cheesy, but whatever. That is love for you ;).
As the girl realizes who her "Rab" (which is Punjabi for God) is. For that is what the movie is all about... seeing God in the one you love...
"Tujhme rab dikhta hai...yaara mai kya karoon" goes the refrain in the movie.

Another reason I loved the movie was because of Amritsar. My mother belongs to the city, so I have a lot of family there. And also because of the Golden Temple (the movie has a lot of scenes of the Golden temple, with major moments happening there). Where we would go every time we visited Amritsar, every year in the summer vacation. Where I learnt to make my childish requests to God. Where I sat eating the awesome 'kadha'. Where I prayed and hoped as I circled the Wishing Tree.

Where I last went a few days before I got married. To get Rab's blessings. To say thanks.
To say that I had found the one person in the world, in whom I could see God.

Pyaag

2008-11-16T12:51:00.003-08:00

Kya pyaag hai, yeh pyaag hai,
thodi si pyaas, kuchh aag hai
in do abhaagon ka ik bhaag hai

pyaag to wo pyaas hai jo
peene se na ghate
pyaag to wo aag hai jo
pani se na hate

pyaag wo khalish hai jo
tere hone se na bhare
pyaag wo khwaish hai jo
tere milne se na mare

dhadhakte hue sholon ki aag hai
laga hai jo chunari par wo daag hai

kabhi saanch hai kabhi aanch hai
kabhi malhar to kabhi deepak raag hai

Cafe Culture

2008-11-11T17:00:00.004-08:00

One of the things I love most in this country (yes, there are actually quite a lot of things I like in this country, esp. the bathrooms) is its Cafe culture.
The fact that one can go and sit in one of these places for hours on end. People go and sit there working, reading, doing stuff on their laptops (most provide free wi-fi), eating, drinking, talking, doing homework...whatever.
They are places to meet, places to live- simply places to BE...

I love that. One can just sit happily for hours, watching the world go by ( all for the cost of a small cup of tea). No irate waiter is there to tell you to leave and go once you have finished your drink/food.

Every time I feel lonely, I usually go to one of these places. They are warm, welcoming and they smell..ohh..so...good.
Of freshly roasted coffee... newly baked cakes... roasted cheese...warm just-out-of-the-oven bread..
I often sit there watching people out of the windows, curled up with a book, or just my thoughts.

They do provide human contact of a kind. Maybe, in this lonely country, that is why they are so popular. When everybody is running short of time, these are the places where one can sit and relax and take a break from life. Where one can just be... alone, but not lonely...

Where one can stop and smell the roses...err... coffee!!

Catalog Love

2008-11-07T12:33:00.003-08:00

Yes, I am addicted- to catalogs. To all the different companies/stores that keep sending them in the mail.
Ikea, Crate & Barrel, Macy's, Bed & Bath, AAA Living, even the Henry Ford (which I got two days ago)- I devour each and every one of them. I read every single article/item/piece description, how it looks, the variety of colors it would be available in, the shapes, the different sizes, the mix-and-match stuff, etc. Of course, the most difficult part is matching the A,B,C's to the item description, but I do it.
I spend hours and hours poring over these catalogs, looking at every possible item- from complete prefabricated kitchens in IKEA to the smallest table runners in Crate & Barrel.

I know I am not buying anything right now- maybe not even in the near future (after all, I am an unemployed graduate) but still I do this. ALL THE TIME!!!

Maybe I should spend all that time looking for work- that would be the first step to be able to actually afford the hand-made pottery :)

Link!!

2008-10-31T09:05:00.004-07:00

I usually NEVER link to other places in my blogs- yes, maybe an occasional song, but usually not what other people write. For me, this is more a place where I write about my frustrations, my life and rants, and NOT a place for people to find interesting links- If you want to see/read weird stuff on the internet, go ahead and find it yourself.
My blog is only about ME!!!
(Obviously you are here since you want to know about my life - for everything else, go and check out the Encyclopedia Galactica ;)

However, this time I am linking to an article, something I feel really strongly about.
Go and READ!

A Woman's Place

Any Good News?

2008-10-14T10:52:00.004-07:00

There is this intense pressure in Indian society to have a kid the moment one is married- not exactly, but you know what I mean.
One has barely breathed a sigh of relief- oh, I am finally getting married, now the whole world will be off my back- the innumerable buas, chachis, mausis, Mom- all of whom were hounding me to get married!
But they ALL started- a FEW DAYS BEFORE I GOT MARRIED- on the fact that I should have a kid really soon! Nowadays, every time I speak to anybody at all in India, I am asked-
"So, any good news?"

It is not considered possible that I might actually not want to have a child right now- I mean- How can any woman NOT want a child as soon as she can legally have one with complete societal acceptance? That is against the laws of being a good Bharatiya nari.

It is such an all-pervasive idea settled deep into our society- that a woman can not be happy/complete until
1. She is married.
2. She has male offspring IMMEDIATELY.

So I was having this IM conversation with my nephew and my bua (his grandmom)- who is about 18-19 years old (my nephew, not my bua) and here is what happened:

Bua: Beta, khush hai na? (Are you happy) {general routine question she always asks}
Me: Yes, I am happy and fine.
Nephew: No, of course you are not.
Me: What? {surprised} I am!
Nephew: No!
Me: Why? What do you mean? All is well with me.
Nephew: No, because you don't have a child.
Me: Speechless!!!

Dishwasher Lullaby

2008-09-07T09:11:00.003-07:00

I realized recently that the sound I love most in the world is the sound of the running dishwasher. I love listening to it- the sloshing and ticking - every sound produces in me a deep visceral joy and contentment.

I love listening to it as it runs, revelling in the knowledge that all my dirty dishes are being cleaned. Often, I run it just before I go to sleep- as I love to fall asleep listening to its watery rhythms- it is definitely the most soothing lullaby in the world!

Yes- you must have guessed by now that I absolutely OD about the state of my dishes (clean or unclean). That is why I love sleeping to the sound of the dishwasher- for it gives me a feeling of gut satisfaction, of a day well spent, of knowing that I will wake up to a clean kitchen...
ohh heaven :)

An Apple a Day...

2008-08-15T19:32:00.005-07:00

And have been laughing and laughing and laughing...
Hilarious...

Me no Gulti

2008-07-15T08:17:00.010-07:00

Here's what I have been doing lately.
I've fallen in love with this song.

And have been listening to it non-stop for the last 5 days- on repeat mode on the computer.
I also play it again and again and again in the car. Totally NONSTOP.
(in fact, its even playing right now- I just play it 24/7)

Now that I have am using my husband's computer, I obviously had to explore everything it had (read: me being a nosey parker :)
And found this really great song.

The only problem is:
I DO NOT UNDERSTAND A WORD OF THE SONG!!

I just love the music.
Can somebody translate the whole thing: poetically, not by breaking up the sentences and telling me individual word meanings, but as a coherent beautiful poetic whole.
And now, just because of this song, I want to learn the language. The song is so poetic just to listen to, it would probably be great to actually understand it.

I wish this could be done like in Matrix: somebody plug my head in, and when its over I know the language. Completely- with all its subtleties and nuances.
I would not have to go through the pain of learning it.

Can somebody please teach me Telugu??
(I would ask my husband, but I don't want even more fights ;)

P.S.- Read the first comment under the video. Its hilarious!!!

Crash!!!

2008-07-12T09:50:00.006-07:00

My computer died exactly one week ago!!

Siiiigh!

It was quite awful- a sudden flash of blue lighting, and then everything went black. Gone for ever, moved on into the realms of where computer souls go once they leave their earthly abode.

And the PANIC !!!
Because me being me, I am not very friendly with Mr. Back-Up. Ohh, we've met, and even exchanged a few words occasionally (we had been introduced by my computer).
But we were not exactly bosom buddies, more like nodding acquaintances.

Suddenly I needed to get to know him. Immediately and intimately. With the mutual acquaintance no more. He was extremely elusive- and I had no idea where he lived, or worked or anything.
I was in absolute panic- here was 3 years worth of data and stuff and stuff and data- GONE!!
Pffffftttttt! Chole Gachche (Like the headache and Amrutanjan).

Anyway, went to the Data Recovery center, paid a load of money and got everything back. THANK GOD!! Though I spent 4 days in recurring waves of panic.

So I need a new computer (no, it could not be salvaged and is completely totally dead).
What should I buy? I have no idea about specifications and other such stuff- the only spec that I really want is that it should be RED!

Suggestions and advice needed. NO MACS.
And something SST (sasta, sundar, tikaau).

Yaad

2008-06-17T20:41:00.004-07:00

When I was in high school, my Mom introduced me to the wonderful world of ghazals.
And it opened a whole new area of expression of all my teenage angst.

Mom had a really really old diary (dating from her jawani) in which she had written a number of ghazals, and then she would sing them. She often used to sing them to me too, as we both sat in the balcony on hot and humid evenings, the usual electric power cut happening.
(She's got the most amazing voice ever).

As I sit here missing my husband,
these lines from that old diary wafted into my mind (after probably 15 years of hearing them)

"Lamhe lamhe mein basi hai teri yaadon ki mahak,
Aaj ki raat to khushbu ka safar lagti hai..."

Cooking...Aur Mai?? Kabhi Nahi

2008-06-14T07:10:00.014-07:00

And no amount to Pan Pasand is going to change that, unfortunately. Yes, its official-
Indian men are proud of the fact that they can not cook!!

Why one should be proud of lacking a serious life-survival skill is something I just can't understand. Though I should add a disclaimer here- a lot of the men I know cook, and cook really well. But among the ones who don't, what I hate is this tone of pride that they can't cook. So it goes-

Cooking... aur mai?? hehe... kabhi nahi...

(one can almost hear the undertones of- me male, me great, me never stoop to cooking, me has wife to serve me)

It started with me talking to a friend (in India) yesterday. His wife had ordered some Chinese takeout, as she did not cook that night. So I told him that he should have cooked if she did not want/feel like it. And his answer-
Mai to cook nahi karta kabhi (and what infuriated me was that rather than be ashamed of the fact, he was so happy about it).

Then he shot back- So does your pati cook?
Of course he does!! (and my pati cooks a mean chicken curry, but I had the feeling that this guy would die of shock if I told him that me (a woman) eats non-vegetarian food. (Gasp!! Thud!!!)

(No, this is not an assumption, earlier in the conversation he had asked me whether I eat non-veg, and when I said no, his exact words were "Chalo shukr hai, kam se kam non-veg to nahi khaati")

On second thoughts, maybe I should have told him and done his wife a huge favor.

Cooking, in India, is so considered a woman's job and domain that it does not even enter a lot of men's realm of thought that they can actually do it (do I hear another Gasp?
Great :)
I wonder why, because it is simply an essential skill to live- no good, bad or anything connotations attached. Maybe Indian men are so unsure of their masculinity that they are afraid of even venturing into the kitchen. But here, I am over analyzing- I am sure that cooking is so far from their view of the world that it does not even enter their thought processes, ever.

Here's to all the men in the world who cook. Pan Pasand for all of you!

A Celebration of Love

2008-05-31T14:57:00.006-07:00

So, I saw Sex and the City (the movie) yesterday (first day, third show :)
And absolutely luurrrrrrrrrvvvvvvved it.
It is just so beautiful, so sweet, so poignant, so "love"!!
That is the only way to describe the movie- its all about LOVE - all-encompassing, forgiving, generous, sorry, painful, difficult, beautiful, emotional, hopeful, endearing- its love, love, love :)
(Yes, that's the sappy grin on my face that still has not gone 24 hours after seeing the movie :)

Its about "happily ever after" and more importantly, about believing in happily ever after. Its about having dreams of love, and getting there, albeit with innumerable trials, tribulations and triumphs.
It brings a whole new meaning to "Love conquers all" :)
(yup, goofy grin again).

I know- I am a hopelessly sappy romantic mushy stars in the eyes happily ever after believer- so obviously I totally related to the movie (just as I have always been in love with the TV series).
Its definitely a must see for all diehard romantics- simply because you believe in love, and even more if you like "the girls".
(goofy grin with stars in my eyes- I have no idea how to emoticon that).

The girls have grown older, have mellowed, maybe wiser- yet they are all quintessentially the same, with the same quest for true love. And they find it- be it within themselves or outside.
It is this patchwork quilt of life, with its unbearable pain knitted in with its hilarious moments, its grief and anger, its learning to forgive, its pure joy, its guilt, and self-doubt and questions and finding answers and looking forward...

Looking forward, and looking beyond- beyond labels (on both clothes and people), beyond names, beyond self, beyond ego... and even beyond love...

So, taking a quote from the movie... "Get Carried Away"
:)

Clothes don't make a Woman

2008-05-05T17:00:00.002-07:00

Or do they?
I've been branded a ganwar dehatan this weekend. Simply because I chose to wear a (Indian) suit.
And because I cooked (for the people who branded me a dehatan!!)

I sometimes wonder at this Indian prejudice (especially in the US)- the minute they meet another Indian in a non-western dress, she is pretty much an illiterate housewife.
So, I met some people for the first time, who came to a party of sorts at my place. I was wearing a suit (which, by the way, was a simple cotton, but very nice). As I opened the door for these (new) people, they took one look at me- and after that, all of them addressed me in shudh hindi.

They did not even ask me if I was studying here (everybody in the party was/is in various stages of their Ph.D., and so am I) but assumed that I was just an English-challenged housewife who's main goal in life is to cook and clean for all the other Ph.D.'s!!!

I was wondering quite a bit about this- just because I chose to cook for a bunch of people, I become a housewife (yes, with all derogatory connotations possible). Is cooking so uncool? Why do Indians look down upon it- why is it associated with "not being modern"?

So because I wear suits and cook, I am labeled, branded and slotted- all in the blinking of an eye. It does not matter that I probably do have better English than the rest of them put together. Or that I worked tirelessly so that I could make good food for all of them. And was so tired after it all that I could not go out drinking with them- I did not (because I was really tired after a day spent cooking and cleaning, for 7-9 people, but in their eyes, what in the world would a dowdy housewife do in a pub?)

Why? Why do Indians need to show off all the time? And then consider themselves superior to people who don't?
Why doesn't being a nice person count?

P.S.- I don't even wear a kilo of kaajal- which is the basic prerequisite for being a modern Indian woman in the US.

Forever Love

2008-04-22T20:07:00.006-07:00

Yesterday was my first wedding anniversary... hard to believe, but it has been one year :)
Here's my husband's anniversary card to me-

Just a reaffirmation of why I love this guy so much ;)

Hum bhi Modern hain

2008-04-17T12:04:00.001-07:00

I think I want to write, to write about the new India, as seen through the eyes of an architect. I will not go into Indian politics, religion, caste, history, (post)-coloniality, sociology or historiography- any of the myriad things that people associate with India (I won’t even talk about the snake-charmers and elephants!). This is a biased, subjective and prejudiced perspective, of an Indian (though what that means is also not sure) architect (again, what does that mean).

Let’s call it the viewpoint of an onlooker, observing changes in the Indian urban landscape. Interestingly, I have reviewed three different types of building typologies, emerging in the globalized modern India, and have found that each is but a manifestation of the same process, a new avatar, a new face, a new body, but the same thing. What do we call this multi-headed hydra? Globalization? Americanization? Consumption? Liberalization? Greed?

The first was the shopping mall- yes; I’ve reviewed them so thoroughly that I can recite facts about Indian shopping malls in my sleep. I’ve written papers (okay, just one) on them. And I see the grasp of consumerism slowly expand its tentacles to get a hold inside the minds of the population. How consumerism has become the mark of status and existence. How where you shop is more important than what you buy and how you use it. How being in the mall makes you modern. The mall stocks western goods and commodities, which are bought by the new breed of Indian ‘transnationals’. The class that is transnational because they have been to that mysterious place that makes one more than human: abroad. The glitz, glass and chrome all shimmer invitingly. Yet, am I being too cynical? Is the mall really a sign of modernity?

Let’s talk about the second type of modern building- the ‘commercial’ office complexes. The glass palaces of the software czars. The modern edifices dedicated to outsourcing. The huge information technology parks. Which are redefining modern for the people who work there. Indeed, this is where the ‘transnational’ class is created and this ‘transnational’ place is where it works. So, does being a software engineer working in one of these enormously attractive buildings make you modern? It is a bit of the West supplanted in the Indian city. It is an offshoot of a western company. By extension, the westernity rubs off on the inhabitants?

Talking of inhabitants, I want to come to the final resting place: the home. A home in one of the most exclusive, entry-by-invitation, community of ‘like-minded’ people. The new gated community. That promises round-the-clock electricity, water, cleanliness, air-conditioning, clubs, roads and gymnasiums. It promises isolation- from the filth and squalor that is India. . Most importantly, it promises ‘abroad’- a piece of the world in India? Something that can be bought at ‘world-class’ prices by ‘world-class’ people. Yes, indeed, the home for transnationals. For it is only by living in such a community that one can preserve being an Indian in India: I am home, but who wants to see its ugly face?

Isn’t this what being modern in India means? What relation does modernity have to a way of thinking, mature self-growth, enlightenment or education? As long as I wear a pair of jeans and shop at the mall, I am modern. This makes me wonder. So one does not stand a chance if one does not live in a gated community, work in a MNC and shop at the mall.

After all, hum bhi ‘modern’ hain!!

Mud Pie Mojo Moods

2008-04-13T21:11:00.008-07:00

Soft, sweet, melting and with the texture of silk..aahhh... ice-cream...
How I love it as it gradually melts on my tongue, soaking in the taste and texture,
chewing on the bits and pieces... sucking on as its tastes linger elusively on my palate...
Aaahh...Ice-cream...

And yet, not any ice-cream. I can only ever have chocolate ice-cream-
I have had ONLY the chocolate flavor for the last fifteen or so years (ever since I realized the pleasures of chocolate and the angst of teenage :)

However, this has rendered me completely incapable of eating any other flavor- I mean, anything else tastes sweet!!!!
For heaven's sake... sweet ice-cream..Ugghh. I just hate the taste of sweet ice-cream- unless it is tinged with the slight bitterness of chocolate, its not ice-cream.

The love affair started with Hot Chocolate Fudge (HCF) from Nirula's, Delhi. I just had to have it every time I visited Delhi. And continued, with HCF from Hot Millions, Chandigarh-here,
I usually had the standard Butterscotch replaced with Chocolate- and extra fudge.
It culminated with the Death by Chocolate- the ultimate chocolate fantasy, but available only at Corner House, Bangalore. Unfortunately, I've visited the city only once in my life.
(only five days of the world's best ice-cream, alas!)

Then I came to the US- and discovered the million or so flavors of chocolate ice-cream.
And also discovered Coldstone.
After a few experiments and trials- I have settled on Mud Pie Mojo.
Its just THE best (and this is coming from a connoisseur of chocolate ice-cream- its even better than the German ChocolateCake, and that is saying something).
It is not chocolate ice-cream, but coffee (obviously not sweet, thank god!).
With swirls of peanut butter and roasted almonds and Oreos and (lots of extra) fudge......
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

I think I am going into an orgiastic frenzy here.
(after all, they do say chocolate is a substitute for sex).

With my husband going out of town for a few months,
I think I'm going to have a lot of Mud Pie Mojo.
After all, that's the only Mojo of any kind I'll be getting ;)

The Wizarding Point of View

2008-04-04T13:09:00.005-07:00

When asked why she wanted to do Muggle Studies (as her parents were Muggles), Hermione had answered, "... but it would be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view."

That is exactly how I feel in my South Asia courses and classes. I have been taking a lot of South Asia (read India) related courses for the last year. Most of my classmates are either Americans (fascinated by India) or second generation Indians wanting to "study and learn" about India ( I am the only Indian- born and brought up in India in these classes). My reason, of course, was the same as Hermione's- to see India from the outside (so to speak).

There is tremendous amount of research/work done on India, right from the colonial times- both by Indians and non-Indians. And I have realized that the way of looking in from the outside is very different from being inside and experiencing it, growing up in it. I am NOT disassociated with these events. I am attached, and all this is part and parcel of my being Indian. Even of me being me. These are events that have shaped my thoughts, feelings and ideas.

It is often difficult for me to clinically analyze the issues being discussed, simply because I am not a bipartisan bystander. I am involved, things are not like this, you can't be so dispassionate- I feel like screaming.
But I am learning that there is a different point of view. For the people who have done such excellent research and work, have looked at both points of view. At the inside and outside.

Despite my attachment, my ideological motivations and even my inherent prejudices, I am glad that I got to study all this. That I can now see India from the outside.

That I have now seen the wizarding point of view!!

Happy Holi, All

2008-03-22T07:12:00.004-07:00

Hap-Hap-Hap-ppppyyy Holi!

Holi has always been my favorite festival. It means joy, and laughter, and teasing, and flirtation and enthusiasm and excitement and trepidation and anticipation :)

Oh joyous Holi, with its colors and water - and even the eggs and grease and coke - all that we used to throw at everybody else- and get thrown back at us.
I loved the Holi food too- especially the Gunjias and Kaanji (the extremely khatta kali gajar ka ras- if you have not had kaanji, you've missed out on something in life, believe me!)

There are numerous Holi songs, yet the one that captures the spirit and verve- and the one I love most is-

Jo jee mein aaye,
tum aaj karlo,
chaaho jise,
in baahon me bhar lo

Ang se Ang lagaana,
Sajan hamein aise rang lagaana....

Gaalon se ye gaal lagake,
nainon se ye nain milaake,
holi aaj manaana
Sajan hamein aise rang lagaana

(It really captures the spirit of Holi ;)

Unfortunately, its too cold here (its still snowing outside) to play the Indian wet holi style!
But for all of you in good weather, have a colorful blast on Holi.

When the going gets tough...

2008-02-24T15:14:00.005-08:00

How many of you have played this game- of adding a totally inane phrase behind a sentence, quote or even every line one speaks?
In my ragging days (by now, I am sure quite a few of you are wondering about the kind of ragging we had) we often had to append some (usually off-color) phrase when introducing ourselves to our seniors.
A favorite that was given was "in my pink panties". Another- "in my purple pyjamas"

So it went-
My name is XYZ... in my pink panties.
I am from ABC... in my pink panties.
....
I love reading books... in my pink panties.
My favorite hero is Shahrukh Khan... in my pink panties....

(Try doing this in your head in everyday conversation. I am sure you will get some gems :)

However, the first time I came across this game was when I was in Class 6th or whereabouts, at a friend's birthday party. The 'phrase' to be appended was "Under the Carpet".
And everybody had to add it on to some famous quote.

The one that I remember clearly is -

When the going gets tough, the tough get going.... under the carpet.

You see??? So every time I hear this quote "When the going...." my almost Pavlovian response is to add 'under the carpet'.

But it bears repetition-
When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

Was introspecting quite a bit today, and I realized that I had to get both over and through some muddles created in/ by my own mind. The self-made morass I was wallowing in left me precisely there- it is nice fun to wallow in the mud, but I guess it is time to come out and have a wash... in my pink panties :)

Ruminating on this, I fell asleep. And woke up with this quote on my mind and lips...

When the going gets tough, the tough get going!

After all, Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost!

Shoe Bite

2008-02-19T08:14:00.003-08:00

Contrary to all my New-Year resolutions (this HAD to happen), I am still blogging infrequently. I promised myself that I would blog more, but then it seems that I never have something to say... or too much, in which case mere words can not do justice to my emotions (Oh yes, that is just an excuse for my laziness).

However, this time I am going to talk about something that has been part of my life forever, and has taken up substantial time and energy (and conversation) of mine - my ShoeBites.
(mind you, with a capital B)

Every single shoe that I have ever worn has given me shoebites. Be it a lowly Bata chappal, or some exorbitantly strappy high-heeled stuff- everything results in 4-5 shoebites. So I have lived in perpetual pain in my feet almost all the time. I can still walk miles with my feet killing me, simply because I am so used to doing it.

I have developed a theory around my shoebites- I wear the new shoes for a couple of days- live with the pain- to break them in. Then a few days break- and voila! The next time I wear them, they are relatively painless.

My heels are perenially in various stages of blister formations- burst, about to burst, in conception... Not to mention my toes...and the rest of my feet.
There was a time I used to display the blisters of various colors and sizes to all my friends - since I was so proud of them. Nobody else had such a collection!

Am still suffering as I wore a nice new pair of formal shoes a couple of days back. Have this one horrendous burst blister- which means I can not wear shoes with a back for the time being.

And it reminded me of my long tryst with shoebites all my life.
Is it just me? Or my big, ugly feet?

I guess I am no Cinderella...

Creativity

2008-01-30T21:45:00.000-08:00

This is a poem I wrote in my B.Arch first year ragging period-
we were given this phrase "Mere miyaan ne ande diye"
and told to write a creative piece on it- and be as creative as possible!

This was a regular thing in ragging- we would get some of the most weird phrases-
(I remember, another one was- "Jab mera pair shitpot me fansa)

Ostensibly, to improve our creativity. So this is what I came up with,
and it became quite a legend in the hostel :)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mere Miyaan ne Ande Diye

Ik din mai kar rahi thhi, rasoi me kuchh kaam,
tabhi mere miyaan ne bulaya mera naam

phir andar se awaaz aayi kuchh yoon,
kukdoo koon, kukdoo koon

Mai pahunchi to darwaaza band thha,
ye sulook mujhe bilkul na pasand thha,
maine kaha "darwaaza kholo"
awaaz aayi, "abhi kuchh mat bolo"

yeh to koi jawaab na thha,
meri curiosity ka hisaab na thha,
maine utha liya hathauda,
aur usi waqt darwaaze ko toda

jaise hi meri nazar bistar par jhuki,
bas... meri to hansi hi na ruki

Miyaan bole...
Hanste hanste tumhara bura haal hai,
par sach kahoon, ye meri izzat ka sawaal hai

Ye ande maine abhi abhi diye hain,
tumhe na sahi, mujhe to bahut priye hain

Phir unhone Munne ko uske paalne se nikala,
aur uski jagah un andon ko daala,
maine Munne ko apni baahon me sameta,
par unhone to andon ko uske kambal me lapeta...

Ye dekh kar meri bhawhein tan gayi,
mai Kaali ka raudra roop ban gayi,
par unhone meri ek na maani,
kara wohi to man me thaani

kuchh dinon baad andon mein se, aayi kuchh awaaz,
hum daude gaye dekhne, kya thha iska raaz

Wo nazara dekh ke, hamaare ud gaye hosh,
andon me se nikle thhe, do pyaare khargosh

kuchh din huye, is baat ko kissa bane,
par wo dono hamaare parivaar ka hissa bane,

Munne ke saath wo
khelte hain chhupan-chhupai,
aakhir aapas mein,
wo hain to bhai- bhai

Chaahe is baat par, yakeen karna mushkil hai,
Par sach kahooon, jaanwaron ka bhi dil hai...

Seetharaman Narayanan

2008-01-25T08:34:00.000-08:00

I have always been fascinated by this name- Seetharaman Narayanan. I have been using Photoshop for almost 8 years now, and I've been mesmerized by his name.
Photoshop and Seetharaman Narayanan are synonyms for me. There are times when, thinking about something that I'm designing in Photoshop- this name keeps reverberating at the back of my mind.

I always thought it was just me! And then, a few days back, I found this- an interview with the man himself.
And came to know that,
"Back in 2004, a simple comment was posted on the ConceptArt.org forum. It said, “Every time I open up photoshop I am mezmorized by this guy’s name. It’s all I can look at. Don’t know why…” Six pages of “Me, too!” responses followed."

So its the rest of the world as well! And I thought it was only me who kept staring and staring at the name. And that is why I decided to look him up. Here's what he looks like (Or what he's made to look like):

Seetharaman as God.

(P.S.- I like the mustache).

Lakshman Rekha

2008-01-09T11:05:00.000-08:00

Men and women experience urban space differently.

(a universal truth, which I would have thought everybody would have perceived and experienced).

However, at a recent party, we just happened to talk about this- and one guy said- "Is that true? I really don't know. I think this atleast does not happen in India"

DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Which essentially proves my point- men and women experience urban space differently. AND- that this guy was a thick blockhead with no perception.

Women grow up (especially in India) with an inherent sense of the implicit and perceived danger in open urban spaces. We have all heard incessant warnings about not going out after dark, ever.
We've all had our share of those experiences- be it a groping hand passing by on the street, on the crowded public bus, waiting for the bus at night...
My point being- an inherent caution of public space is built into women, and it comes as a natural part of our perception and experience. I had thought of this as something everybody knew- there is, after all, a lot of press on Eve-teasing, and women's molestation, etc.- especially in India. It is part and parcel of our daily life in India.
More so, because public places are not deemed as "proper" places for respectable Indian women to be seen in. Being in a public place at the wrong time is "asking for it".

New Year's Eve, Mumbai was not an aberration. India is getting unsafer by the day (ToI, sometime this Jan).
Take a look at these guidelines- they would be hilarious, if they were not so saddeningly true. These are rules that are internalized by all Indian women, and have been spelt out only for visitors. YES, this is how we all know we are supposed to behave. These are our Lakshman-Rekhas...

So it irritated me no end when an educated, supposedly well-read Indian said this. Made me angry. Maybe somebody needs to put their blinkers away. This truth will never penetrate his narrow vision, perception and thought. Actually, considering his ways of thinking, he maybe believes women have no need to be in a public place at all! (As you can guess, I am infuriated).

Does this say something about Indian men? If they don't even SEE the problem, how can effective steps be made to solve it???

See here!!!

Jaam

2008-01-07T09:29:00.002-08:00

The most intoxicating song of all time:

Here.

For the first time ever, I have put a song on my blog.
This is one song I used to listen to when I was growing up (that will make you wonder about the kind of songs I listened to ;)
Actually, my Mom was a ghazal fanatic- and so we both used to listen to these Urdu ghazals, and she would explain not only the literal Urdu meaning of the word, but also the deeper meaning of the whole.
I still remember her ghazal diaries- she would sing the ghazal (she has an amazing voice and had trained in classical music) and then explain their meanings to me - and as a budding teenager, with all its incipient heartaches, I would be absorbed in this wonderful world and find a resonance within me!!

So began a lifetime of love for Urdu and Sher-o-shayari. I am a huge Ghalib fan and just love his poetry.
And of course, the Jaam is such an integral part of the ghazal...
Which is the reason for this post.

If you love alcohol/liquor/ sharaab- you just have to listen to this song.
It is the most incredible tribute to sharaab- listen to the tadap and talab for it as you hear the depth of longing for sharaab... in Munni Begum's incomparable voice!
The lyrics are spectacular- every word a joyous celebration of nasha...

A must hear for all alcohol-philes!!

And a fitting start to the 2008 blogging year- with spirit!!!!!

All-nighter

2007-12-13T19:56:00.000-08:00

Kaise meri subah se shaam,
Kya raat hoti hai,
aisa kyun hota hai
kab ye baat hoti hai...

Jaise tapte sone se,
tapta sona milta hai
Aise hi kuchh mera din,
meri raaton mein pighalta hai

Sooraj ki hichkichaati kirnein,
jaise har taraf ki baraf par bikhre hue taare,
kya aasmaan zameen palat gaye,
ya din me phir raat hui?

Kyun tu bhi ai mere dost,
ye padh ke hairaan hai,
meri baaton pe itna gaur na kar
bas... kal mera imtehaan hai :)

Heheeehawhaawhaw...
(I spout random inane poetry at 5:00 AM after a whole night of studying Statistics. Finally, exam over!)

Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost

2007-12-03T14:58:00.001-08:00

What I love is the simple triteness of Bollywood. And even then managing to make me accept their banal words as a major philosophical truth for my life. Am I so besotted with "the pikchars" that I swallow every over-cliched maxim they choose to throw at me?

And the fact is that yes, I do believe in quite a lot of the most banal things that the movies say. Anything that makes me happy, or sad, or hopeful or angry... or any number of the vast range of emotions I go through when I see a movie I like. Not to mention the wit that surfaces few and far between in our movies.

One of the best one-liners of all times, had come from Mr. Gaikwonde (how many out there remember this classic role essayed to delirious perfection by Anu Kapoor and his dysfunctional telephone)- "Kamaal hai Seema- ye dikhai nahi deta aur ye sunaai nahi deta."

Sridevi in Lamhe "Mai to Kunwarji ko tabse pyaar karti hoon jabse mai paanch saal ki thhi" was a muhtod jawaab to Anita's (I think that was her name, I don't remember for sure), "Mai Kunwarji ko paanch saal se pyaar karti hoon".

Another line that I remember mouthing, to all my friends, was "Someone somewhere is made for you" (read Me!) from DTPH. Oh, I so believed in it (and let me reiterate that I still do- if I could find my soulmate and Mr. Perfect, so I believe the rest of the world can, too).

I guess the next one is an all-time favorite with half the world -"Hum cake khaane ke liye kahin bhi jaa sakte hain", from DCH. This was one movie that was full of a lot of wit (unlike most Hindi movies of the time). The badinage between the three friends was hilariously witty (even at the very serious end- "Perfection ko improve karna mushkil hai"- which is one of my husband's favorite lines- for himself, obviously :)

KANK - "Har shaadi ki buniyaad sirf beinteha mohabbat honi chahiye."
But, well- let me come to the line jo aajkal mere zahan me ghoomti rahti hai-

"Hamaari zindagi me bhi, hamaari filmon ki tarah, end me sab theek hi ho jaata hai"

This may be the tritest clichedest saying in the whole world, but I love it. I believe in it. It gives me hope. It makes me smile. It makes me happy. Om Shanti Om was this amazing incredible witty funny romp which kept me laughing and enjoying every bit of it, but what stuck with me was SRK making his Baatli award acceptance speech- which was one of the most touching scenes in the movie.

And I do choose to adopt this as my current {atleast till the next SRK movie comes along ;)} truth in life, ki hamaari zindagi me bhi, end me sab kuchh theek hi ho jaata hai. Kyunki aisa hi hota hai. Kyunki this is what moves us along. This is the talisman that burns in our hearts and warms us with its presence. This is Hope.

Aur agar theek nahi hua, to ye The End nahi hai...
Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost..............................

Karwa Chauth

2007-11-02T09:10:00.000-07:00

So I kept the Karwa Chauth- my first ever, obviously.
And it led to this host of questions arising in my mind, and questions about why the questions came (sounds convoluted- believe me, it was even more confused in my mind).

Firstly, I wanted the questions not to come. I wanted to accept totally and with complete faith the institution of the Vrat, and the idea behind it. I wanted to be any one of those millions of Indian women who take it as their unquestioned duty (and privilege- after all, what higher privilege than being married and showing it) to do the Vrat. I wanted that mindlessness, that total faith, that complete acceptance.

In parts of North India (especially the Punjabi belt), the Karwa Chauth is no longer just about the vrat itself. It has been totally commercialized- look at the millions of advertisements in the national print media. It has become the occasion to flaunt your saree, wealth, status- or who got the bigger, better gift from their husbands (Dah-ling, a saree...you can wear it the next time I take you out in the car I got...)

But then- I think Punjabis have a penchant for turning every occasion into a reason to flaunt themselves (considering that I am one, I know ;)

I kept asking myself, why the vrat? Does giving up food and water for one day really make your husband live longer, make him richer and happier (In my case- he would probably be happy if I gave up food forever- considering my weight ;)

Or as the feminist junta is quick to point out- you don't see men doing the same for women (apart from, of course, the two most important men in my life- Shahrukh Khan and my husband (in that order). My better half offered to do the vrat with me- for my longevity and happiness, since he is as much of a feminist as I am. Maybe more- I just sit and crib about the state of Indian women, he says we should do something about it.

However, the presumption here is that most Indian men don't care about their wives living longer, or being happier. I am sure that they do-only they are not expected to keep a strict fast to prove the same.

And yet... I did it. Did I do it because I am Indian? Because I have internalized certain norms of behavior, which I will feel guilty about not following?

Maybe my reasons are the same as everybody else's. I do want to die a suhagan, but mostly because I know, living without him is a pain I cannot bear. Because I would willingly give up the last drop of water if it makes him live longer.

Because it makes me a part of this larger community of Indian women who kept the Karwa Chauth. I was imagining a globe, with Indians in scattered parts- from Kenya to Canada- women all over who did the vrat. Wherever an Indian woman is, the Karwa Chauth is an essential part of her being married. So I kept imagining random dots in sarees waiting for the moon rise. And I was one of those sprinkled dots.

And lastly- because of Kajol and Shahrukh Khan.
Because, to this day, this moment, I can never hear the following lines and not cry. Itne saalon se, isko sun ke aajtak aankhon me paani aata hai

"Tere haath se pee kar paani,
Daasi se ban jaaun Raani"

I just believe in this. Totally. Unquestioned. Completely. Kajol believes in it because she loves him- totally.

It is only love that matters.

"Har shaadi ki buniyaad sirf beinteha mohabbat honi chahiye"

(again, SRK in KANK)

Then, the Karwa Chauth becomes a true prayer. Not because you have to do it, but because you want to. Because its not a tradition, it is a choice.

In Memoriam, In Sorrow

2007-07-24T15:02:00.000-07:00

I am writing this with a grieving heart- not because the sorrow is any less, but because I believe he deserves a great eulogy. I am sure lots of others have been shedding tears about whoever their favorites were (and who died in battle), but my tears haven't stopped. For Dobby.

After reading this, I realize that I was not the only one crying. Yet, we all cried for different people. There is mourning, there is pain, and there is triumph. Oh, much is said and written, yet I feel that Dobby was not mourned enough.
Can grief ever be enough at death? Yet it is essential for our catharsis. Grief is what makes us real, it is our ability to mourn, to remember, to cry- to feel the depths of pain that make us truly human.

I keep remembering the little things. Especially the socks. The patterns of snitches and broomsticks. His lines keep coming back to me-"They is giving you two the same"... "a barmy old codger if we likes"... "your Wheezy"...
Oh Dobby, Dobby......
His utter devotion to Harry. His caring for Winky. His delight at getting Ron's jumper. His big tennis ball eyes looking lovingly at Potter.

He was always such a bechara. So servile. So happy every time Harry so much as smiled at him. So devoted, so faithful, so lovable. And the end..did she have to use the word "supplication". That killed me...
I was worried that she'd kill Harry. I didn't even think about Dobby. Strange-we all so seldom think about the death of people we love most. Maybe, they do live within us.

My only satisfaction comes from the fact that he died in the arms of the person he loved most in the whole world. And that he died saving Harry's life (that would have made him happy).

(only, I still can't stop crying. I had to stop reading for two hours while I cried. But the tears come back again..and again. My words here can not lessen the depth of pain, nor can my tears extinguish the grief).

I have no idea whether house-elves, like wizards, move on. But I hope they do. I hope wherever he is, he's happy.
Dobby, we'll miss you. You'll always be there - dancing happily in your tea-cosy.

Daaru, Jua aur Aurat: Kkahani Vegas Kii I

2007-07-19T00:48:00.001-07:00

Finally a travel chronicle- For the first time ever, this blog features something I did, as opposed to my endless rants on how I feel, how I felt and how I'm going to feel...
Oh, don't go away, the whining and cribbing will be back soon ( I know just HOW much you all out there empathize with me!!!)

We (nope- neither do I suffer from MPD nor am I pregnant {undergrad hostel joke-he he}, just me and my better (definitely-once you get to know us) half (introduced to one and all as TBH- The Better Half, or Tall, Black {actually, he's more on the saanwla side (guess where I picked that from)(also- I'm a gori-chitti Punju racist)} and Handsome (I'm losing track of these brackets within brackets within...oh heck!) ) visited Las Vegas recently. An oasis of sin(?) in the middle of the desert. Quite definitely Paradise Found.

Yes, Vegas is the Garden of Eden, recreated and redefined. It is where everything is legal, permissible, right. Where one sleeps in the morning and goes out at night. As TBH put it- all the rules are inverted in Vegas. This was apparent the minute we entered Nevada- from the border to Vegas, nobody was following the speed limit. The glittering lights, the first view of the Strip, the historic casinos (where poker history was made {TBH is a poker lover (yup, poker meri sauten hai) and so I got to hear it all} made us both go Look! Look! Look! - till a near death swerve got us looking at the road again!!

There is the historic (and old) downtown, where it all started. As the story goes, Vegas started as a place for entertainment and recreation (euphemisms, how I love thee) for the workers of Hoover Dam. A win-win situation for all.

Downtown is festooned with lights, lights everywhere. The most amazing feature is the 1500 feet long arched roof over Fremont Street- which is actually a screen. Its quite awe-inspiring at night as it comes alive with the most psychedelic colors and patterns possible.
To quote U, "Its Diwali everyday in Vegas".

Quite literally. Diwali is also a day for Jua, gambling, in India. And so, it IS Diwali all the time. From every possible card game, to sportsbooks, to racing, to real estate. Gaming Hells have donned a whole new glamorous avataar, they are now Gaming jannats as they are reinvented in the casinos, miles and miles of real estate dedicated to every form of gambling.

Each of the casinos was more glamorous and grander than the next. Bigger, better, showier- it was impossible to comprehend- and its even more difficult to put here in words just HOW grand they were. The architecture was mind-boggling, with Paris and Rome vying for attention next to Monte Carlo and New York. The pyramids were just half a mile away, right next to the beach at Mandalay. Treasure Island was a stone's throw away, right in front of Venice. Ahh! The gondolas. The Bridge of Sighs. St. Marks' Square. Tao.
(the nightclub to end all nightclubs. I felt like Arthur- the people, the lights...the people).

(Look at the sky! Its a huge artificial ceiling- so its always early evening on the piazza. Beyond which are the nightclubs).

TBH played poker, while I lounged around in the fashion of the best of Bond (plunging neckline dresses and sipping sultry martinis seductively {sultry martinis?- oh, well, you get the picture- besides, I love alliteration} babes {now, if only I could buy the body to go with it} (too many brackets again). Or stare at the women. Each more glamorous than the next. The dresses, the shoes, the stilettos... ... the stilettos (there I go again).

I was obsessed with their heels. How did they ALL manage those pointy 6" heels? And here I was, tottering in my 2" itsy-bitsy heeled sandals (I gave up and walked barefoot for the rest of the night). It did take away from the glam doll- hot babe picture I was trying so hard to project, but my feet were killing me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not only is it already morning (and I'm not in Vegas anymore, alas!) but the length of this post is getting to be quite unwieldy. Not to mention boring.
I'll continue the Kkahani in my next post.
(In true Kk fashion, the story is endless).

So you can all wait with bated breath for the next episode!!!!!!! After all, I haven't even touched on the "Aurat" topic I promised in the title. Yes, I fooled you into reading this one..and the next...and...

Blankety-Blank

2007-07-14T16:33:00.000-07:00

Marvin's the clearest thinker I know.

Or maybe

"We apologize for the inconvenience."

Apology NOT accepted, God.

Tanhaayi

2007-06-26T17:54:00.001-07:00

Haan bolo,
tum bhi to lafzon me taraasho..

ki tumhari chubhan, tumhari pyaas,
waisi hi hai jaisi meri...
jo mere man ki khalish hai,
kya uska aks tum me bhi hai

ye jo lafz mere labon par kampkapaate hain
kabhi inka sannaata sunte ho,
Ankahi si hazaar baatein,
kya tumhaare labon par hazaar mauton se milti hain..

kya tum bhi kabhi meri tarah tadapte ho...
kuchh sunne ko taraste ho...
bolo, kabhi to izhaar karo,
ki shayad meri khamoshi ko awaaz mile

Kabhi to tum bhi awaaz do,
haat badhaao, intezaar karo
Dil ki awaaz sun, sab tarqon se pare
kabhi to beinteha pyaar karo...

Ode to Baba Sehgal

2007-06-06T17:39:00.000-07:00

A lot of people (read: bloggers) have dedicated reams of virtual paper writing tributes to their favorite music directors, singers etc. like RD Burman (does he feature everywhere!).
Listening to some of his songs today- gems which I rediscovered today, I decided to write this especial feature on Baba Sehgal.

I was (Yes, honestly) an ardent fan while growing up (I think I was in Class 8th or 9th). Baba Sehgal had burst on the nascent IndiPop scene with Thanda Thanda Paani. Followed by his other smash hit, Mai bhi Madonna. I fell in love with that song.
(I have been trying to find that song for ages now. If anybody can give it to me, I will be their servant forever. Seriously, this is a fervent request- does anybody have this song? Or can give me a lead as to where I could find it?)

And the amazing 'Jat Ludhiane ka'. Who can forget his 'Miss Loomba Loomba'.

The most amazing part of all his songs are the awesome lyrics- NO JOKING!
They are just so funny and witty and outrageously ridiculous... I was laughing out loud most of the time today :)

Not that we all don't know the story- how this electrical engineer left his job in DESU to go into music. And the rest, as they say (who does?), is history.
(Hai Raam! Sarkari naukri chhod di munde ne!!)

Not only was I reliving some of the most glorious days of my childhood (Ohh! Saraswati Kunj, how I miss thee!), I had one of the most enjoyable funny and glorious afternoons ever, especially as I was doing some extremely mundane mind-bogglingly dull work alongside.

So to all people in the world whose tastes are as weird as mine-
Here is where to go!

And somebody- puh-lease find me 'Mai bhi Madonna'. And while you're at it, also 'Jat Ludhiane ka'. And...
;)
I shall shall shall be eternally grateful.
By God ki Kasam!!!

Bad Habits

2007-05-24T02:07:00.001-07:00

This is what comes of staying awake all night, reading other people's blogs and pilfering their ideas. This post is a result of this post.
For it got me thinking. Not just that Indian men expect their wives to be virgins. Just that the whole world does too.
Actually, for most men and women in any normal middle-class Indian family, there is no other way of thinking. The-alternative-does-not-exist.

Yes, some of us might not agree, saying that India has progressed, its not so in the big cities, etc. etc.
Well, sure. Maybe not. But that is how it is in the tens of thousands of towns and cities and mindsets. Its such a blanket mindset that I cannot even begin to explain how ubiquitous it is.

And this promulgates such that most men/women in/on the marriage market(that is how we do it in India) take this mostly as a given. If even a whiff of the fact that the girl ever had a boyfriend/ was seeing someone/ talked to guys (ok, slight exaggeration here ;)) fell into the prospective groom's family's ears, the match was doomed. No one but a pristine bride for our son, thank you very much!!

Its such an integral part of our culture (?). Indian girls do not drink, sleep with/touch men, have opinions or other such bad habits. Oh God, who will marry them otherwise?

Yikes, why did I start on this? The diatribe shall not end once I get started.
I have opinions on this. And other bad habits as well.
:)

Love and Chocolate Cake

2007-05-21T18:06:00.000-07:00

I so wanted to bake a cake. SOOOOO wanted to bake a cake.
Every pore of my being craved to bake one!

Don't ask why! Lets call the reason love :)

Okay, now this might be a perfectly natural craving for some of us, but given that
a) I had never baked (Once- but had set the cake on fire)
b) I had absolutely NO ingredients to bake a cake.

I still wanted to do it. And Yes, the reason was Love.
:)

Anyway- I did manage a pretty good cake, with nothing to begin with. Improvised every step of the way. Love brings its own inspiration :)

Here's my first recipe on this blog:

The "Crazily-in-Love" Chocolate Cake

1 cup Aata (Thats normal everyday flour)
1.5 cups of Oil
1 cup of sugar

I kneaded all this together.

7 Oreo Cookies
Chopped them to a powder in the food processor
(that was my only source of chocolate)

15 Cashewnuts
Chopped coarse in the food processor.

Added the above to the dry batter.

NOW- the big question.
I had no idea what to do next.

NO EGGS. NO MILK.
I did not know how to make a batter with all my dry ingredients.

Inspiration again.

I took out the remaining one-fourth tub of Strawberry Ice-cream. Put it into a plastic container, added some water. And microwaved it.

Viola! I had milk.
Mixed it into the flour mixture- and my smooth, fine batter was ready.

Added the baking powder (actually, 1 spoonful of Eno) and that was it.

Poured the batter into the baking dish.
Any I had my perfect chocolate cake after an hour.

No, not really- it did break when I took it out of the baking dish.
But it made me immeasurably happy.

I was listening to these absolutely cheesy 80's-90's romantic Hindi movie songs while cooking (the kind you don't want to own up to even being in the same room as). With this mushy smile on my face. For all those stupid silly soppy songs suddenly made sense.

Happy :)

For doing this kind of corny cooking. For doing it to make just one moment special.
(Obviously, later both would be too drunk/ asleep).

:)
Happy First Month Anniversary to ME!!!

The Ekalavya Debate: Should he have cut off his Thumb?

2007-03-09T12:58:00.000-08:00

How many of you have seen the movie Eklavya?
I did, a few days back- and so the previous post.

"Dharma Matigrah Udghrutah" was quoted in the movie -
as THE virtuous path being that which your mind and heart says is right.

And so I had a this debate with my friend, about Dharma. He argued that the movie was a letdown, for Eklavya did not follow his Dharma in the end. The character was built up as one whose only motivation, reason for being and self-validation came from following his Dharma (in this instance, protecting the King).
Thus, when the quandary of following Dharma arises in the end- well,
Should he have killed his own son?
Should Eklavya cut off his thumb again???

According to my friend, yes, he definitely should have killed his son, and the fact that he did not takes away from the basic premise of the movie. The manner in which Eklavya was portrayed reinforces the values and sanctity of following Dharma (or at least, what one is brought up to believe).
Me- being a sucker for happy endings- loved it that he did not.

As the movie goes- Dharma Matigrah Udghrutah-
Dharma is what your mind tells you is right.

So is Dharma following centuries of mindless tradition?
Or is it laying down one's life (and love) for what one believes in?

Or is it just a matter of convenience?

However, I do think I would have cut off my thumb.
I nearly did, too...

But finally, my mind prevailed.
Dharma Matigrah Udghrutah...

So why do I still have this lingering sense of guilt??????????????????

Dharma Matigrah Udghrutah

2007-03-07T14:00:00.000-08:00

And so said Aristotle. He says that all human purposes aim at that highest of goals, Eudaimonia. Loosely translated as 'happiness', it can be better referred to as 'human flourishing'. So each and every action is geared to the attainment of this higher "virtue".
More importantly, this higher purpose/ aim is derived from both 'virtue' (as exemplified by courage, honesty, etc.) and knowledge (here, the knowledge of good and evil, OR, right and wrong). Aristotle adds that Eudaimonia is constituted not by honor, wealth or power, but by rational activity done with knowledge. Therefore, simple deduction leads us to infer that ethical
behavior and virtuosity lead the rational person to the best course of action, which, in turn, leads to happiness.
So we all act as rational, thinking and aware human beings, all of us pursuing the most sensible, rational, best and right course of action. And live happily ever after!

Yes, that is indeed the fairy tale it sounds like. For how many of us actually do that?
not me, for one (and so goes the story of my life :)
Are we fallible? I think so- at least I think the human race deserves the benefit of doubt :)
Herein, lies the concept of Akrasia, which is defined as "the state of acting against one's better judgement".
Why would any person ever do that? So asks anybody with a "rational" mind.
Yet we all do it, all the time.
Socrates called akrasia an "illogical concept", and attributes it to a breakdown of reasoning. However, Aristotle (again to the rescue) contends that akrasia is not a result of irrationality, but is a result of opinion. And opinion is personal, and may or may not represent the truth.

Any judgment that we make may be based in objective reason or subjective analysis. Yet the chosen path of maximum virtue may not be adhered to, ever so often.
Or it may be the conflict of reason and emotion (again, the fact that they are considered on opposite sides of the fence is dismaying).
However, I do reinforce the notion that akrasia may be very damaging for being happy- or attaining the highest purpose of eudaimonia.
Having personally experienced it, I also firmly believe in Festinger's Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. And that can lead to tremendous mental and emotional turbulence.

So maybe one should just do what one believes is right. And that remains the eternal question. What is Right?
There exist innumerable normative notions of "rightness" and yet, no two people have the same rights or wrongs.
Therefore, I do what I think is right.

"Dharma Matigrah Udghrutah:"

Dharma is what your mind tells you is right.
Dharma is what your heart tells you is right.

Catharsis

2006-07-17T15:13:00.000-07:00

Maybe I just can't live the lie.
Maybe that is not me.

A resurgence, a revival, yet more pain... or mere pain...

Will I let this endless eternal pain kill me?
Or will I aceept - like most of us do- and live with it forever- mute, silent, suffering?

Will this be the only place in the world where my tears will coalesce and take the form of comprehensible (or maybe not) prose?

We all live with our private hells within us- yup, I read that awfully cliched line when I must have been 14... and have never forgotten it... yet never felt its truth till these last few days...

Yes, I know now- I have to endure silently, accept, be quiet, never talk-

For the pain will never go... but just go on.........

To ask the most oft-repeated question in the world- why me, God?
Was I singularly hand-picked for this?
This slow gradual everlasting pain....................

I' m sick of crying..and yet the tears do not stop...

Maybe just one bout of tears.... and catharsis

But nothing seems to wash away the grief

Epiphany or A Sign from God?

2006-07-16T12:04:00.000-07:00

Its a day to celebrate :)
I just had an epiphany.

Crazy how life sends you the answers (or at least the right questions) when you are,
oh, sooooo clueless. No, not crazy, just wonderful. Or am I being fanciful again :)

I was reading this total chick-lit book today, and the heroine was in EXACTLY the same dilemma as me.
God- she even asked the same questions. Had the same doubts.
Said the same things. She even used the same words that had been in my mind.
She found her answers (read the excerpt below).

Atleast I know my questions now... even if I don't have any answers yet.

I have never written stuff on this blog which I have read elsewhere- usually its this total personal rant, and I guess I am never at a loss for words when it comes to my endless sorrows ;)

But here goes- a long excerpt from this book- (edited to suit)
which still makes me cry even when I read it for the zillionth time.
I really have to write this here. It could be me writing this- only the author said it better ;)

ok, Acknowledgements first-
The book is called "Girls' Poker Night" by Jill A. Davis

NEED TO KNOW

"Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." Anais Nin wrote that, not me. I think she was right- happy endings are not for cowards.

You don't need to know any of this. But the things I don't reveal are the things I hold closest and fear losing the most. I work overtime keeping them veiled and camouflaged. You don't need to know that I walk around all day fearing the things that make me happy, and that I have been doing that for my entire life.

You don't need to know that I run away from my problems. I pack up and move. I get out of Dodge before I care too much, before I risk too much.

You don't need to know that I am the world's worst poker player. I feel too bad about lying and losing.

You don't need to know that growing up has come late to me. I'm the last one at the party. But at least I've shown up.

You don't need to know that when someone confides in me, I feel needed. Unless I don't like what I'm being told. Then I give up on you. No matter how you might have changed. No matter how repentant you are. No matter how much loss you feel. No matter how much like me you are. What I need is something to hold against you. Because if I don't have that, I will be crushed when you go away.

You don't need to know about the time I was sitting a few feet away from him and he said, "Shhh. . . quiet." And I said, "What?" And he said, "I can hear your heart murmur from over here. Turn it down a notch, would ya?"

You don't need to know about the note he left me. How it was unfolded on my chair, waiting for me late one night.
You don't need to know that I kept that stupid note in the pocket of my backpack for a month. To see if it meant something. To see if there were clues about us.

You don't need to know that I'm telling myself to stay when I feel like leaving. Because leaving is easy, and staying takes work. But in the midst of the work, I might lose some of my fear.

You don't need to know that up until I met him, my life's goal was self-preservation. And that when I met him, self-preservation felt genuinely lonely.

When you run into love and it seems like some psychedelic mystery, look at it again, and again, and keep looking at it until you realize the only mystery is how you've gotten by so long without it.

You really, really don't need to know about the kiss on the elevator. But it was nice, and his coat felt new. And when I think about that- I'm filled with regret for not telling him everything he didn't need to know but should have known.

Permanent Denial versus Progress

2006-07-16T11:49:00.000-07:00

Yes, the pain does get better.
But how?

Is it simply because I refuse to acknowledge its existence any longer?
Am I running away... running away from facing up to my screwed up existence, and trying to find answers-

Okay, so the last few rants have been about the never ending pain- and have i progressed :)

Going out, incessant partying, dinner, people, people, people-
Just don't leave me alone with myself anymore

Anything to stop the thinking

Should I lie on the couch and read a book, or should I confront my personal demons?
You get the point.

And I have realized that it is easy. Frighteningly so.
Its very easy to accept to reject the pain. The horror.

Its very easy to live the lie.