When words come alive!

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!

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New Series: Bitchfest, Episode 1

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!

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Lost

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…

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Impressions of the latest version of India

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 :)

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Book Review: Daughters of the House

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!

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Kitna padhogi?

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?

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Psychoanalysis of Eating Out

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/)

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Review: Desirable Daughters

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)

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South Asian Challenge 2011

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)

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Peaceful Co-existence

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!

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Bread & Cheese

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)

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Not Another Social Network!

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 ;)

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Anger Again

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?

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Tag: Top Ten Fictional Heroes

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.

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Kitchen Queen

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

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Brain Addict

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 ;)

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Cross-it Tag

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 :)

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When Ugly Duckling meets Bollywood

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 ;)

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Running after Time

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

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The Ends don't Justify the Medium

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.

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