When you realise...

When you are a kid, your parents are your world. And you think the world of them. They have all the answers, they can make all problems go away and they seem infallible in all regard. Quite like a personal ‘super-man’ looking over you. Bruised knees, bad dreams, tooth extractions and even the horrid chicken pox are no problem for them at all. They give you a kiss and a hug (and some medicine) and magically you’re back on your feet. They have the answers to all your questions, even the really insane ones (like why don’t dogs wear pants? Or why can’t I take the pig home?). And most of all, they seem to love you even though you are naughty- annoying- pesky- noisy- fussy and generally a brat.

And then you grow a little older. You realize that maybe they can’t kiss all your problems away and answer all your questions. You start to think that you know better than them, that their experience doesn’t count for as much as they think. They see you growing up and struggle with your insistence to be independent and ‘adult’. They try to protect you from the big bad world out there, without realizing that they can’t always do that. And in the meantime you mistake the protectiveness for mean-ness and accuse them of ruining your life. You start having fights with them. And you act like every typical adolescent.

And then you grow much older. Maybe even live away from them. Your problems and worries become more ‘adult’ and often have no solution. They still try to make them ‘go away’ and feel frustrated when they can’t. But you appreciate that they try. And you appreciate even more that they are just ‘there’ for you, a phone call away- especially on days when the world doesn’t look so pretty or when you really want to feel loved. They feel proud of the lovely person you have grown into but still find it difficult to think of you as an adult with a mind of your own. And best of all, they always take your side, even if you are in the wrong.

But in all of this time, you never ever think of a day when they won’t be there, when you won’t be able to call them up and hear their voice back. And so it is a very unnerving day when you are reminded of their fallibility, that they are not the “super-man” you always assume them to be, that there might come a time when no phone will help you reach out to them.

And on such a day, all you can do is give thanks for having them in your life and tell them how much you love them.

My gal pal’s mother passed away today. And I am having that ‘very unnerving day’. So here’s telling you mom n dad, all that I usually don’t. Love you!

Currently Listening: Vienna- Billy Joel, Roulette- S.O.A.D.

Currently Reading: Eat, Love, Pray- Elizabeth Gilbert

Latesshht!

You know how it is- When so much seems to be happening around you, you think of a million things to write about and you make mental notes. And then you keep setting aside time to post about them, but you faff around instead because you’re too lazy or too willing to give into any distraction (Like Zee cinema showing another hilarious ancient gem). And then, when you finally say- enough is enough and cajole yourself to sit down with your cup of tea, with just the right music playing (coz well ambience counts for a lot), to write out those thoughts, the dreaded blogger’s block threatens to strike. How ironic!

But hah, am a fighter too! So fighting the blows of the ‘block’ and very valiantly kicking it in the balls, I bring to you the very taaza, the latesssht! (a.k.a snippets from my head that are inane, whacked out and absolutely of no consequence to anyone)

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

The Indian 1 Billion Strategy

As a result of a conversation with a French colleague (who btw is convinced that all Chinese n Indians are spies) I am starting to see our race in a new light. And I daresay, I underestimated us all. Coz you see, while everyone thought that we were more tuned to being ruled than being rulers, I say it turned out quite to the contrary. We are conquerors of the world, just that our methods have been a little..er.. unconventional. What the world thought to be the result of a slightly higher-than-normal libido, the kama sutra and the lack of anything else to do, may just be a well thought out strategy. (I’ve even thought up a nice little catchy name for it- copulation for population.)

Look around you! No matter what part of the world you are in you will find yourself surrounded by a tiny little India- Indian people, Indian food, Indian movies and music, even Indian bosses. It’s time to face it- The whole world is going through an Indianization of sorts. So yes, we’ll ‘pass’ on the machine guns and the bomber jets. We’ve got other tricks up our sleeve you see!

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

Jai Ho! For globalization

You’ve got to love globalization. Well I know I do. You know what else I love? Haldiram’s nut cracker (it’s the spicy coated peanuts savoury). And thanks to globalization it seems to be available everywhere. Battling my way through the lanes of Mustafa in Singapore (yes, battling), what do I find? Nut cracker. Walking through the busy and colorful Jonker walk in Malacca (Malaysia), what do I spy a hawker selling? Nut Cracker. And now, here in Kuwait as I push my trolley through the aisles of the local supermarket, what do I come upon? Take a wild guess! It truly is Nutcracker (Haldiram) domination all around and I have globalization to thank for it.

Infact my overactive imaginations sees a situation like this-

Slightly over enthusiastic explorer: (bursting upon a never-found tribal clan in the jungles of the amazon) I bring you food, clean water, fire : I bring you civilization

Tribal guy: (covered in white ash, painted in fancy colors, digging into a bright packet of Nut crackers) No thank you, we’ve got our packet of Nutcrakers. Yes we are quite happy! Nice knowing you. good bye!

So yeah well I exaggerate. And yes I am a crazy fan of the said savory. But it’s possible. Noe?

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

Inshallah

I love the word! And I haven’t found anything quite like it in English or Hindi. So succinct, so convenient. And it works with everything. It’s perfect to acquit yourself of all responsibility. And it's perfect for a serial procrastinator like me. Will I finish this by tomorrow? Inshallah! Will I be coming home on time? Inshallah! Will I be hauling my ass out of bed and trudging my way to work tomorrow? Inshallah. It’s brilliant.

Coz tomorrow when I don’t finish the work, and I don’t come home on time and I don’t get my ass to work, I simply have him to blame. Coz he didn’t will it so! See what I mean?

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

That's it for now dahlings! But I'll be back to post something soon. Inshallah!

Currently Listening: I will possess your heart- Death cab for cutie, Say it- Blue October

Currently Reading: Eat, Love, Pray- Elizabeth Gilbert

Goodbye...

I first saw him over at someone's house at a dinner party. I remember the first thing I noticed about him was his voice, his style. He was singing a song. And I found myself singing along with the simple lyrics. It's what they call, love at first hear. I went to sleep that night with a tune on my lips and a smile on my face.

People told me he was a bit odd. And maybe they were right. He did look different from anyone else I had seen- With his long wavy hair tied loosely at the back, his big buttoned flashy jackets and his thin frame. But what did I care. I loved the way he sang. I loved what he sang. And most of all, I loved the way my feet would start tapping away almost involuntarily each time I heard him 'do his thing'.

A few days later, I spotted his picture in the local news papers. I remember getting a pair of scissors and very carefully cutting it out. I decided that I had been sufficiently impressed to openly profess my liking. And so up it went, the grainy black-and-white newpaper cut-out picture, on my cupboard. I didn't realise then what this small action would mean for me. Everyone around started ridiculing me, laughing at me with an indulgent smile. A wink here, a nudge there. But again, what did I care.

One of the 'nudgers', seeing the grainy newspaper cut-out, decided that I had to have a better picture to focus my adulation on. And that's how I got my first (and only) proper picture of him. And a very handsome picture too-Tousled up hair in that trademark ponytail, black pants, and a tucked-in white shirt, open just enough to show a peek of smooth chest. I put it up on the wall right across from my bed. And soon enough I started doing silly girlie things like wishing him (well the picture really) 'good night' everyday. But through all of this, it was still his singing that held sway over me. Each time I heard him, I would sing along, even memorize the words he sang and copy his moves.

And then, slowly, other things started occuying my mind, other people. And he got relegated to the back. And over time, even the picture got taken down. I moved on. Years passed. I occasionally heard snippets of his songs and smiled to myself, even tapped my feet. But I had changed. My tastes had changed. I liked others now. I heard less and less about him. Maybe I didn't care.

That is, until a few days back, when I read about his death in the news. And the memories came back. I played some of his songs and sang along to them (at the top of my voice)- My own little tribute to how brilliant he had been. And I realised then, that even though so much of time had passed since I was that 9 year old girl with his poster on the wall and a much obvious crush, I will miss him.I give thanks for the music he left behind and I really really hope that he is in a world much better than ours. Goodbye Michael.

Currently listening: Roulette- System of a down, Kuch Khaas- Fashion
Currently Reading- Myth=Mithya- Dr. Devdutt Patnaik