And Here We Go...

In another month, I move to New York, to live and study there. NYU is the university and journalism is the attempt. More specifically, I am going for the 'Cultural Reporting and Criticism' program and I like to believe, this essay is the main reason I got in. :-)

When I was 5, I announced to the family that I was leaving home and promptly walked out; with empty pockets, wide eyes and an animated eagerness about the wonders I was going to see. Needless to say, the quixotic expedition did not last too long. But as I look back to that 10-minute trip, I see the first glimpses of the qualities that have come to define my personality today: a curiosity to explore and experiment, the self confidence to take on the world and the independence of nature to forge my own way. The years and experiences since, have cemented these qualities and more thankfully replaced the childish foolhardiness with a rational prudence.

What the years have also added to the mix is a heightened awareness and sensitivity towards differences, a penchant to seek out and appreciate the unique. Perhaps this fascination with differences has its roots in my upbringing. I am a product of North Indian and East Indian intimacy; an unlikely union of very disparate cultures. While growing up, variety was the norm and its absence was unsettling. I did not find it odd that we spoke not one but three different languages at home; that we followed different customs depending on which side of the family we were interacting with; that we regularly flipped between three to four different cuisines within a week; and that we moved ever so often to live in a new city, state or even country. Very early on, I was taught through example to respect differences, look at them positively and understand their immense value as a source of new learning.

The reason I talk about these inherent and conditioned traits of my personality is because they have been pivotal in alchemizing my potentially mundane life and travel experiences into opportunities for rich cultural learning. A life spent in Bombay, Singapore and Kuwait, with smatterings of other unfamiliar yet exciting countries in Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Europe, has served as breeding ground for the cultural journalist in me. In each of these countries, I played the role of an observer, looking at the differences in traditions, attitudes, ideas and societies. What has intrigued me more however, are the ways in which different cultures interact and evolve under each other’s influence.  And having spent so much of my life outside of India, I find my observation and critical appreciation of these cultures free from any tints of preconception, but not without a sound basis in cultural understanding.

Admittedly, my Indian roots influence my preferences and I most enjoy looking for the Indian story in every new country. Growing up in the urban mosaic of Bombay was an exercise in cultural understanding and adjustment amidst a plethora of pluralities- linguistic, religious, caste-based, and economic. But it helped me grasp that while cultures in a society may manifest in different ways, they usually have similar undercurrents and sensibilities. Between Singapore, Kuwait and India, I have seen multiple personalities of the ‘Indian’. At first glance, the Singapore-Indian dressed in vibrant batik, talking in Singlish and eating vastly different food might seem miles apart from the kurta-saree-donning, Hindi-speaking and butter-chicken eating Indian in India; or completely unlike the adjusting, hard-working, money-motivated migrant Indian in Kuwait accustomed to living a second-citizen life. But upon scrutiny, each of these personalities reveals its uncanny Indian-ness, right down to the obsession with moralities, family-life and saving money.

It is no surprise then that the cultural journalists who inspire me the most write on similar topics and regions. William Dalrymple is one such author whose writings on India display an enviable perceptiveness about the historical influences on modern day India and the reverse impact of this modernity on tradition and historical culture. His writings seek not to judge but rather to reconcile and make sense of the cultural collisions that make up this complex country. Another cultural journalist, whose writing is surprising and inspiring in its insightful observations, is Edward Luce, the author of ‘In spite of the Gods’. Through his account of India’s recent political, economic and social development and its future prospects, Edward Luce demonstrates a rare combination of intimacy and detachment with India. And while doing so, he presents a deeply astute picture of contemporary India, highlighting patterns and connections from within the complexity. As a cultural journalist, it is this kind of insightful and refreshing writing that I aspire to do.

The bulk of my writing so far has explored issues in the same arena. While journalism hasn’t been the focus of my professional efforts before now, writing and reporting have always been an important and satisfying part of my fringe life. Some of my most creatively satisfying times were spent working as the editor of my high-school magazine or writing articles and reviews for the ‘Gourmet’ magazine at college. And even after college, I have pursued this interest through blogging actively about events, travel and food, both Indian and international.

The story of how I got interested in Journalism, though, is a plain- vanilla tale about how I dabbled in this-and-that, before finally realizing that Journalism has always been the elusive answer to the big question, “What do I want to do?” No epiphanies, no ‘Eureka moments’, just a plain simple deliberated choice based on a passion to write. My interest in cultural journalism stems from a love for stories, a flair for writing and an unbridled curiosity about the world, its people and their motivations. I am enamored by the cultural journalist’s role as the documenter of human narrative, the storyteller of our modern times, an explorer within cultures. And I admire the deep understanding required to connect the dots and examine events in the context of cultural, societal and historical currents.

I believe that a person cannot be taught to be a great journalist. The greatness can only come from a true passion for the career and a love for cultural reportage. However, without the method, the madness is just that. And it is this method that I hope to learn through NYU’s Cultural Reporting and Criticism program in journalism. Through the program’s inimitable flavor of thoughtful, insightful criticism and under the tutelage of its exemplary faculty, I hope to learn the art, the finesse and the tools of the trade. I particularly value the program’s focus on amalgamating journalistic skills with an individual writer’s distinctive voice.

My will to pursue cultural journalism is fueled by my belief that I possess a number of raw skills to succeed in this role. My curiosity drives my persistence to get answers. My insight combined with my diligence in research, lets me identify the right questions to ask. And my affable personality and open mind help me make connections with people and develop trusting bonds easily. What ties all these skills together is my ability to engage the reader through the written word.

Perhaps my greatest strength as a cultural journalist lies in my ability to find comfort in the unfamiliar and my willingness to experiment. I notice and embrace the subtle and not-so-subtle differences in cultures, foods, attitudes and thoughts with ease and find myself the richer for it. I am a variegated person, influenced by the many cultures that I have been exposed to. I speak comfortably in 4 different languages besides Hindi but I think mostly in English. I appreciate the colors and beauty of a Hindu Temple as willingly as I take in the serenity of a church or the passionate call-to-prayer of a mosque. I am a lover of different tastes and cuisines and I display as much panache while maneuvering chopsticks as I do while eating with a fork and spoon. At various points in my life I have lived in India, Singapore, Thailand, London and Kuwait and in each of these places I have felt the city’s pulse and assimilated a wealth of cultural insights. Very often I strike up conversations with strangers in unlikely places, to quench my curiosity about lives different from mine and never have I been disappointed.  I revel in the beauty that can come only with multiplicity and I am a connoisseur of the different.

This in turn enriches my narrative as a writer, as a cultural journalist. Inspired by differences, led by curiosity and emboldened by the willingness to experiment, the writer in me finds inspiration at every corner. And the journalist in me sees the exciting possibility of a new narrative, the next story.

Currently reading: Jaya - Devdutt Patnaik

Currently Listening: Big Jet Plane - Angus & Julia Stone, The importance of being idle - Oasis

New York, je t'aime

I spent summer 2010 in New York and wrote this in my journal as I was leaving the city, seated at seat 21D in an Airbus A340, flying from JFK to Singapore. I got round to posting it only now, though.

Two and a half months is a long time. Yet two and a half months can be a really short time. It’s all a matter of perspective.

Two and a half months back, I came to New York City at the break of a dawn- wide eyed, admittedly a little scared and very excited at the idea of living in a city I had heard so much about. And the two and a half months passed by in a blink. And yet, I feel a lifetime of change between then and now.

I try and skim over all my memories in the city and I get lost in their chronology. A lifetime of memories, a lifetime of change, all in a few months- naturally, it’s a blur. I try and recall the morning when I had landed here, intrepidly taken the very notorious New York Taxi and gotten my first glimpse of the city. Did that even count as my first glimpse, for hadn’t I seen this city before? Was it in a movie somewhere? Or had it been on some television show? Or had I perhaps pictured it entirely in my mind, a mosaic of bits and pieces weaned from sightings and readings? I remember the upsurge of feeling I had felt, as I saw Manhattan come into view from the Williamsburg Bridge. I call it feeling, for it sounds too absurd to call it love. But in hindsight, perhaps that is what it had been. And perhaps, I had made up my mind that I would love this crazy place, long before I had even gotten here. And love it, I did. But on that first early morning in New York, I refused to acknowledge the instant love and familiarity I felt for the city, opting instead for a charade of nonchalance and apprehension.

But the city won over, in just a week. Or maybe it was two. In just that short time, I started feeling comfortable in the city, even confident, like I belonged here; and I liked that feeling. Maybe that’s the charm of this city. It makes every visitor feel like they fit in; something for everyone. In my first few weeks, I made lists of places I wanted to see, museums I wanted to visit and must-eats I wanted to savor. But somewhere down the way, I got swept away by the charm of the city and put aside my checklists for a more au naturel approach. I ambled around the city, its parks and cafes and started living my days without any itinerary. I spent hours trying to get to know New York, and the city very willingly twirled and pirouetted as my muse, comfortable in the knowledge that many before me had tried and failed in that pursuit.

I’m in love with a city that I don’t completely understand, and perhaps, because of it too. And try as I might, I can’t pinpoint what it is about New York that I have fallen in love with. Was it the icons? – The view from the Empire State Building, the planned natural ease of Central Park, the garish glamour of Times Square or the imposing grace of Lady liberty. Or was it the sheer collection of intellectual and social stimulation? – Right from museums of all things myriad to infinite clubs paying homage to all kinds of indulgences. Or perhaps the city itself is the greatest spectacle, an effortless orchestration of a daily performance. Whatever it is, I’m besotted: Another casualty of New York’s charm, another fool in love.

Not everyone can understand what I feel for this city and why. And sometimes it’s beyond my comprehension too. For New York is a difficult city to court. The life is difficult, the living is lonely, the streets are dirty, the houses are tiny and the food is expensive. And yet oddly, the city has a certain appeal. Like a raw-edged unconventional- looking man that you can’t take your eyes off, complete with kinks of character and oodles of charm. Yeah, New York is the Javier Bardim of cities!

But here I am now, sitting in a plane that’s pulling out of JFK airport and getting ready to take off any minute. My two and a half months have come to an end and I am leaving my love behind. My thoughts are consumed with this city and I let them flow. I chuckle as I remember my last minute scramble to buy souvenirs at the airport, to try and take a piece of this city back with me. I know, the real souvenirs I carry back are nestled in my heart and mind: the memories of a torrid summer love. But time is abrasive and I know these memories might fade. And so I cling onto a very tangible mug and a t-shirt, both proclaiming ‘I love New York’.

As the plane catches speed and the engine gets louder, the reality of the separation comes crashing down on me and I feel a sense of last minute panic. I close my eyes and calm myself- This isn't where it ends!

Currently Reading: Shalimar the Clown - Salman Rushdie

Currently Listening: High for this- The Weeknd, Even though i'm a woman - Seeker Lover Keeper

And the calendar changes...

This is lame, I know. Writing a new-year post almost 3 months into the year IS lame. But not as unacceptable as it would be if I were to completely ignore the changing of the calendar and skip one of the very few blog-rituals I do have.

So delayed as it may be, I must write that customary post: A eulogy to the year no more and a welcome to the year that is. But somehow this time, writing ‘the post’ feels like a chore, a task to drag my feet on, and perhaps even a little pointless. That definitely has to do in part with the realization that life is lived (and hence looked back upon) not by the calendar years but by the events and changes that happen in it. But more importantly I think it has more to do with the year itself-2009

What do you write about a year that felt like a whirlwind? A year that made you giddy with all its ups and downs? A year that was so far removed from what you had predicted, that it had to have had a mind and will of its own? A year that very dramatically followed the format of a Bollywood-flick, right from the climatic complications to the ‘all’s well that ends well’ finish?

Bitter- sweet- sour and every other flavor imaginable, 2009 was a year that started off tangled, twisted, confused and then proceeded to unravel itself completely before finally ending with all the ends tied neatly. Such years are very rare, I’m told. Not for their level of complications and twists but for the clarity and sense of peace with which they end. And sometimes even for the surprises they bring. And surprising it was. As the year started, if someone had asked me how I thought my year would turn out, my answer would have definitely been about some kind of boring version of my life; A lot of cribbing, a little heartburn and possibly a different work-scene- but definitely around India or Singapore. Instead, I spent the better half of the year in a middle-eastern country, made a few friends and then some more, almost fasted to starvation during Ramadan, learnt a smattering of Arabic, became an expert in taking flights & transiting, had a fairly decent time in the sandbox and somehow even managed to miss and pine-for the Lah-land (something I had thought I would never do).

There were other tinier drops of unpredictability in my year too. On separate occasions- I got dunked into a pool with all my clothes on, slept in a sleeping-bag on a sandy beach right under the stars, Pee-ed in public (for the first time in my adult life) hidden behind a dense bush of green foliage, finished an entire bottle of a very exquisite Riesling on my own (and still kept standing, with surprising sanity), got shat on the head by a bird (another first) and went paragliding (which was absolutely divine). But not all of it was upbeat. Kuwait did get incredibly lonely at times. And spending a birthday alone was never part of the plan. Somewhere in the middle, I had an upheaval in the heart-department and spent an agonizing period wondering how things would get better, if at all. But get better they did.

Which brings me to the ‘All’s well that ends well’ finish. The single most pissing-off and yet brilliant thing about the year was its unpredictability. When I thought things would get better, they got worse and when I thought things would only go downhill, they suddenly took the escalator upwards. And just like a bollywood movie where the happy end makes up for all the despair before, I said goodbye to 2009 with a sense of peace, a feeling of maturity and loads of tuneless singing and fun!

I continue to marvel at how lucky I have been in the friends department: The ones in Singapore- near n close and the ones far away- not near but still as close. So here’s a shout out to all of you in Kuwait: Ahmad, Mona, Janine, Marwah, Qasim- My time in Kuwait and my year wouldn’t have been the same without all of you. And another shout out to the peeps over in India: Miss Order, Journo-chic, Dimples, Machao-babe, HappyBrave, Uncleji, IITBoy & pokermon. Come visit me already now! And only coz I know I would get flak for not doing it, here’s a shout out to you too methodman!

So now that it’s 2010, I find that I’m still asking myself pretty much the same questions on love, life, choices and the future, as I was a year back. And perhaps I’ll keep asking them for the years to come. What’s different now is that I’m happy with my questions and no answers. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe these are questions that you are never supposed to figure answers to, until the time comes. And then life itself brings the answers to you. Something tells me that’s how life is meant to be lived- With a little abandon, with a little less ‘figuring’ and a whole lot of ‘doing’. And so, this year-2010, that’s what I am going to be doing. The possibilities seem to be endless and I am running out of excuses not to go out there and try ‘em and take a chance on myself. Wish me luck, world!

Currently Reading: The Pregnant King- Devdutt Patnaik
Curently Listening: Symphonies- Dan Black, Hey ya- Karthik Calling Karthik

Heppie Burday!

Within the first hour of my birthday, I had decided in my mind that a birthday spent alone could not and would not amount to much. Afterall, Kuwait being the place it is and with most of my friends and colleagues (even the Kuwaiti ones) being away, how could the customary birthday cheer happen. So with this thought and fairly low expectations, I peacefully went to bed expecting the day to seem just as ordinary when I woke up.

But there is something about a birthday that keeps the day from being ordinary, even if it turns out no different from the day before or the day after. Maybe it is the effect of being remembered by so many. Or maybe it is the expectation of good cheer that the day itself brings. My own favourite explanation includes a body calendar and a once-a-year happy ‘birthday-hormone’. (Yeah, I always did have a thing for the loony.) Whatever the reason, on a birthday morning, it is difficult not to wake up with a smile on the face and a skip in the step.

Birthdays for me have usually been all about the ritual of the day itself: the madness I indulge in or the surprises the day brings. And I usually save the introspection for when the calendar changes. But perhaps with the ritual itself missing in the day this year, I felt compelled to take stock of life and other affairs. And I realized that the passing year had indeed left some lessons in my lap.

Like the fact that that life is too unpredictable and whimsical to be wasted on worrying about the future and wondering how today’s choices might affect tomorrow’s outcomes. Truth is, you will never know. And it’s easy to waste a lifetime basking in the false security of the familiar, while dreaming of what might have been. Or the fact that at some point you have to stop worrying about what others expect of you and start living upto your own expectations, chasing your own dreams, without needing the nod from anyone else. True richness in life comes not from a fat bank account (though it definitely helps) but from the satisfaction of knowing that you live your life on your own terms. I learnt that money can be the motivation for work for only so long, before it all starts to feel meaningless and plastic. And that friends can be found in the most unexpected of places and ways. And most importantly, I realized that at the end of it all, when all else will fade away, it is the friendship, the love, the memories and the experiences that will stay.

And as I realized all this, I resolved that next year, this year, I will do things a little differently. Take more risks. Think and plan less. Have more faith in myself and what I want to do. Take life by the balls. And have more fun while I’m at it!

And so even though, I spent my birthday this year with myself (introspection and all), it turned out absolutely lovely! Different but lovely! Thanks to everyone who called, sent flowers and infected me with the birthday cheer (My favourite has to be one that hoped I would "have a birthday with dates, cakes and handsome arab sheikhs!"). Lots of music, a fair amount of messages and mails, a little bit of work and an evening spent by the sea : The day mirrored everybit the maturity that I feel being 24.

But then I am reminded of the birthday madness I plan to indulge in once I am back in Singapore. And I smile to myself. For the crazy, wild (some might call immature) side of me still rocks on, 24 or older! And I am glad for it!

Currently Reading: The historian- Elizabeth Kostova
Currently Listening: Voice- Pentagram, Flowers in the window- Travis

Lazy friday weekends! =D

Sunshine. Trees. A light breeze.
Ghazals. Bit of jazz. A cup of tea.
Pyjamas. Plaits. A sense of peace.
Lazy friday weekends. Such a rarity!

The comedy is that it's serious.

When you do what I do for a living, life takes on quite a different flavor. Airports become hangout places and airport-staff become ‘buddies’ that you see regularly. The phrase ‘commute to work’ takes on a different meaning and involves boarding passes, immigration checks and X-ray machines. You start referring to your current hotel as ‘home’ and know all the staff on a first name basis (or the fact that they have a 2 month old baby or that they love ‘3 Doors down’). You get so comfortable in planes that you actually have a ‘favourite’ seat and develop a talent for making the mid-flight-mid-sleep toilet trip with your eyes closed. And yes, you get used to flight turbulence and learn to sleep through it like a baby.

And so when I say that I woke up mid-flight due to turbulence and even felt a little scared, take my word that it was indeed more than just a ‘tremble’. And I will admit (sheepishly) that for the first time ever I feared a little for my life.

Now it’s amazing the kind of perspective u can get from something as stupid as flight-turbulence. But there I was, with the plane (seemingly) completely out of control and I had one of those rare moments of clarity, with my whole life flashing before me (not just the past but what I had thought the rest of it to be like). And then suddenly somehow I reached a moment of panic, where I realized that if my time had indeed come, I would be leaving with a huge bag of regrets. I thought of all my plans-grand and otherwise. The world-travel, all the things I wanted to learn, the book I wanted to write, the experiences I wanted to have, my list of ‘100 things to do before I die’, all the weight I wanted to lose, the tattoo I wanted to get- Everything that I had put off for next year, when I would have ‘enough’ money and the time would be ‘right’. And right then, 30,000 ft above the earth, with the plane swinging wildly and a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realized that the money would never be enough and the time never right. Truly realized. And that was my ‘Eureka!’ moment.

Of course, the turbulence soon stopped, I went back to sleep and eventually landed safely. But something did indeed change in that moment. And just like that, I have a spring in my step, a purpose in my eyes, a grin on my face and a realization that my time here is finite and so I'd better make the most of it.

And so I am glad to report- the gyming is happening regularly, the healthy eating has become de-facto, all the travels are seriously being planned for and an inexplicable good cheer has come over me. Oh and the tattoo, happens in December. Talk about life-changing. Who needs ‘Deepak Chopra’ when you’ve got turbulence, right?

Currently listening- The boy is gone- Jason mraz, Unforgiven II- Metallica
Currently reading- Salmon fishing in Yemen- Paul Torday

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)

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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!

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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?

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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?

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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

Where have all the lemons gone?

I've been away a really long time. I almost thought I wouldn't be back here, that I would just slip through the cracks in the blogsphere and into the recesses of the mind. No good bye, no final post, just a nice and clean disappearing act. But here I am now, back to stringing words together, giving life to thoughts and clacking away on a keyboard. I guess it's true what they say- 'once a blogger-always a blogger!' (well ok, they don't really say that. I just made it up. But it does go so well, doesn't it?)

So I thought I wouldn't blog again and here I am back to the old habit. Big surprise!But there is no way I am going to re-count what I have been upto in the time I've been gone. I've been good, having fun and that's all that matters. Life's taken wierd turns and by some stroke of fate, I find myself these days living in Kuwait and occasionally visiting Singapore (or atleast it seems so). Life's different and so not according to what I had planned for it. But then when is it fun if everything goes according to plan? And strangely, even with all the gales of change blowing, every now and then everything makes sense. Maybe just for a second. But it's enough to get me to put my lemon squeezer down and wonder- has life gotten tired of handing me lemons? And I find myself smiling and saying- bring it on life, keep it coming!Let's make some Nimbupaani!

PS- Yes, I am in a wierd mood right now. Yes, I will be posting more regularly now. And yes, in the usual flair of Nimbupaani and not this philosophical mumbo-jumbo. So rest easy and hang around, a'ight?

Currently Listening- Daniel- Lior, Camisa Negra- Juanes, Fade to black- Metallica
Currently Reading- Bad Heir Day- Wendy Holden (It's what a chick-flick would be like if it were a book- only worse. Much worse. So now I'm in a philosophical AND bimbotic mood! Oh the conflict of it all! Go figure!)

'Happy' Women's Day?

There's nothing happy about the ‘International women's day’. Not this one and not any other. But definitely, not this one.

First there is the question around the dubious need for a specific day to celebrate 'women'. Excuse me, but last I checked, wasn't that something the world should be doing anyways, every day, every moment- Without making any pomp and show about it and definitely without feeling like it deserves a pat on the back. By having a specific day for something that should be the norm, the world is only spotlighting its ineptitude in giving to women all that they deserve. And yet the world celebrates this day. It's almost ironical.

And then of course there is the point, that whatever the original noble intentions, the day no longer means what it was meant to mean. As the very wise wikipedia informs me, International Women's Day was declared in 1910 by the German socialist leader Clara Zetkin as a day of solidarity to mark the fight of women for equal rights and was officially recognized by the United Nations in 1975. But now, year after year, it's been contorted into something politicians can use to get face time and brands can use to tout their products. And not just in India. A club in singapore was advertising it's TGIW (Thank god I'm a Woman) night on Women's day, complete with free Mary Janes and GalPal discounts! The whole world is going down that route. I ask, what's the point? It's almost patronizing of the world to make such a huge superficial hue and cry about the day, only to promptly go back to the normal (unfair) order of things right after.

And what exactly do we have to celebrate this year? The same bag of problems hang around our neck: Rape, Female child mortality, child marriage, sexual harassment, violence against women, gender bias. And just in case we thought we didn’t have enough to deal with in this century, we have the Sri Ram Sene. (Incase anyone needs reminding about who they are and what they did at Mangalore earlier this year, read this). Women in India are still not free, neither in the rural nor the urban settings. Just that the shackles are different. But at its very root the fight is much for the same thing; and that is free-will. Be it the free-will to choose their life partner, to not have to cover their faces, to go wherever they want or even the ability to sit in a pub and drink without the fear of being beaten up. It’s not wrong for society to frown on certain things. While many years ago the point of discord might have been whether to let women out of the house and into the workforce, today the issue is about whether to let them into clubs and pubs and the likes. But at the heart of the matter lies the fact that frowned or not, it’s all a matter of the woman’s free will. And it is really no one’s business to tell a woman what she can or can’t do. Sadly we live in a society that burdens its women with the duty of upholding the morality of our culture while the men gallivant around chasing skirts and being men; A society that continues to ignore women as independent people with their own wants and wishes and a right to live their life as they please.

And all this is not just on a macro level; it trickles down to a personal level too, though the issues may be different or seemingly less significant. I am an independent woman, who speaks her mind, does what she wants, wears whatever catches her fancy and drinks whatever quenches her thirst. But the single reason I am able to do all that is 'cause I live outside India. And I still get badgered and pressured on how a certain age should equate to a certain marital status and how I can’t do so many things simply cause I am a girl and it’s not acceptable or safe. And idiots like the Sri Ram Sene only give this more mileage.

And so I ask, really, what’s so happy about the ‘International Women’s day’?

25 Random Facts About Yours Truly!

Yup I am joining the bandwagon. And doing the 25 list thingie! And that too, by my own volition. (I can see some of you shaking your head with a look that says 'I always knew this girl was mad') . Why subject myself to this, you ask? Well simply coz this is sort of like a Meme and being a meme-virgin (Batting eyelids, blushing face) I am a little excited about it. Maybe it's also coz I am a slighly-narcissistic blogger and I do love talking about myself. More than anything, it's because I have a feeling that I am going to surprise myself. So bear with me and read on please. Pretty please?

1. I am the quintessential jack of all trades. I can play 7 instruments- Guitar, Harmonica, Tabla, Harmonium, Tanpura, Drums and Bongo. But none with any spectacular degree of proficiency. I can speak 6 languages- Hindi, English, Bengali, Punjabi, Gujarati & Italian. But only two of those with a high degree of proficiency. I have dabbled in Kathak, Salsa and Jive, but am an expert in none of those. You get the Picture, don't you?
2. Something that I get from my mom is a penchant for making lists and plans. Things to do lists, timetables and longterm timelines: I specialise in Weight-loss plans and personal finances management plans. What I dont specialise in, sadly, is following any of the stuff that I plan. Half a talent is such a waste!
3. I love the sight of painted pretty nails. Days when I get my nails done, I can't stop waving them around like a prima donna. I am told it can get pretty irritating for everyone else.
4. I have had milk straight out of a cow, with the whole awkward-position-head-bent-and-squirt-aimed-at-my-mouth. The milk tasted good, the experience was wierd and the fact is something I am secretly proud of. Well, not so so secretly anymore, but still proud.
5. I am a feminist of sorts. Not your bra-burning-morcha-holding types. But the type who can tell when things are unfair and will do something about it. I refuse to settle for a half-life simply because I am of the female species. And I get frustrated with people who expect me to.
6. I love it when the wind blows through my hair and flicks strands of my hair on my face. It's the single thing that can make me feel pretty, no matter any amount of zits, blackheads or any other other gunk that might be vacationing on my face.
7. I get very amazed and sometimes frustrated with people who refuse to live their life king size and in the moment. It's one life people. Just one. All the more reason to live it up!!
8. There's nothing more comforting than an over-used and over-washed t-shirt. I have saved plenty from annihilation at the hands of my mom and will continue to do so till my very last breath. Much to her frustration.
9. I dream of living a life where the money is enough and the lifestyle lets me be spontaneous and impulsive. I am told that's a freelancer's life. Methinks a rich heiress' life works much better.
10. I am a praise-junkie. I thrive on the simple concept of work and reward. Consequently, I expect to be praised even for doing my job satisfactorily. It's a bad habit, I know.
11. While growing up, there is nothing I wanted more than a Dog. And now that am all grown up, there's nothing I value and want more than my freedom and independence. Between the two, my parents had a much easier time dealing with my wish for a dog!
12. When I was 5, I announced to the family that I was leaving home (following a fight) and promptly walked out. It lasted all of 10 mins, before dad caught up with me and carried me back. I waited 12 years before I tried that stunt again. And this time the family came to drop me all the way!
13. I think the single most important thing about life is all the people you meet and especially the ones that you love. And it me amazes how rich my life has been in that regard so far.
14. Nothing petrifies me more than labor pain!
15. I was a vegetarian for 12 years of my life. I decided on it when I was 8 (after a very revealing trip to the butcher's) and stuck to it all the way till I came to Singapore. Now, I eat 'Everything'.
16. There are some songs that always make me smile, no matter what my mood. 'Kiss me' by six pence none the richer is one of them. 'Free falling' by Tom petty is another.
17. There are days when I worry that my time will run out before I can do all that I want to do. That I might be wasting my time on mundane things like holding a job, buying a house etc. There are other days when my worries don't run so deep. On those days I mostly obssess about my weight, my hair, my face. Oh and world peace. Definitely world peace!
18. I love weddings. I love dancing on the streets at weddings. I love the dolling up that happens at weddings. The songs, the colors, the ceremonies, the people, the food. I simply love being a part of weddings, as long as (and here's the catch) it's not mine.
19. The single experience that I most want to have with all of my heart is to live by myself in a place of my own in Bombay. I also know that it is the one thing I will never have.
20. During moments of plain evil mixed with pure genius, I have thought of naming my future children- Katori Devi and Hukumchand, if they don't behave themselves (Read as: If they cry too much and wake me up in the middle of the night). Thankfully these moments almost always pass.
21. I am a complete romantic and mush-pot at heart. I drool at the idea of surprises, offbeat-bent-knee-proposals, thoughtful gifts out of the blue, beachside weddings. And yet I think flowers and chocolates are over-rated. And cliched too!
22. I love food and I have very eclectic and specific cravings. Usually these revolve around (And am sure you haven't heard of some of these)- Funflips, Bonny mix, Nutties, Fatafat, Haldiram's Nutcrackers, Panipuri, Tibbs Frankie, Raju Chinese, Pav Bhaji, China-Valley-Sweet-Corn-Chicken-Soup, Bombay Sandwich. The list goes on. And on.
23. I can lose myself entirely in a book or a movie. And when I say entirely, I mean that it would take a hurricane (or even a bowl-ful of water thrown at me, as has worked in the past) to get me to come back to the now. Nothing milder would work. It's like my brain switches tracks and puts on blinkers.
24. I was in love with Michael Jackson when I was 11. I had a poster of him on my wall, that I would wish good night to, before going to bed. I consider this the single most embarassing thing I have ever done! Thankfully, now that place has been usurped by the very-yum-and-edible Kunal kapoor. And even more thankfully, without the ritualistic 'good-nights'!
25. Bombay, Delhi, Bangkok are my favourite cities in the world. I think New york has the potential to be added to that list, even though I haven't been there yet. I really really hope to some day soon.

I could fill another 20 more points on this list easily. But then it is supposed to be only 25 points, no?

The cat has some wise words

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don’t much care where--" said Alice.
"Then it doesn’t matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you’re sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."
(From Alice's Adventures in Wonderland)

I love that book. And I love how it makes the most poignant of points in the most unassuming and usually-crazy ways.

We're listening to the winds of change

I've been thinking a lot about 'change' lately. About the things I want to change. About me, in my life, around me. And mostly it's a feeling of disorientation. A mixture of being fascinated, excited awed and petrified. Yeah, that's right. Change confuses me and how. I spend too much time evaluating scenarios. Contemplating change. Thinking about the different places I could land up in. And no matter how good an idea it seems, there's always that nagging worry that change might just make things worse. Fuck a good (or even an ok) thing up.

But it wasn't always like this. I can remember a time not too long back when change was something exciting and something I didn't think too much about. Moving to another city? Sure, new friends, new places. Changing schools? Yeah new quirky teachers. Moving out of home? Bring it on! Think of all the trouble I can get into.

It's one of those things that has come with growing older. Right up there with worrying about money, the opposite sex and PMS. I simply notice change more than I used to. And I feel wary of it. Not because I find the unknown any less exciting, but simply because I am painfully aware that the known is valuable too. I'm sure it also has a lot to do with me taking myself more seriously now than I did as a kid (And stupidly so). With thinking, that for some reason the choices I make right now are somehow more life-changing than the choices I made as a kid (Play now or Homework now?)

Change is hard. And I wish it wasn't so. Coz there is so much that I want to, I need to change. For starters, I wish I could go back to India. It's where my heart is. It's the place that comes closest to feeling like home. And I'm running out of reasons for staying away from it. I know, after a soft-cushioned Singapore life, India will be a different ball game- The traffic, the lack of safety, the lack of convenience. But everyone else manages? And I am made of the stuff everyone there is made of, right? Then of course there is the family factor. I miss having my parents close and I have been a long time away.

But What I would be giving up? Loads! Much as I crib about it, Singapore has been home for the last 5 years. This is the place where I found myself, grew into the person I am today. And I feel comfortable here- In the life I have for myself, the people, the places. More the people than anything else. But this is the city I feel I know the best and at times, it feels like the city knows me too. But besides that, this is the place where I feel truly free. I am answerable to no one. No one cares about where and when I am going or coming and who I am meeting or what I am doing. And somehow that is liberating. This is the city where I have my space. My privacy. Where I am the master of my own life and I make all my own decisions. Going back to India, could (would) mean giving up on all of this, simply because it would mean a move back home, to living with parents. And then it's never the same. Questions always get asked (Where? When? What? Who?), Restrictions always get placed (Don't come home late, Don't go there) and decisions eventually get made (for you). Gradually there will be a loss of control, till I won't be able to call my life my own. Living in Singapore, I have become a fiercely independent person who likes spending time with herself and making her own decisions. And I cannot imagine a life where I wouldn't be able to do all that.

See what I mean? Change is hard!

Sixty Three...

... sheets of used and balled up tissue paper,
52... loud-blow-your-brains-out-sneezes
44... spoonfulls of wasted food coz the medicines make everything taste like saw-dust
31... hours of fitful and snore-punctuated sleep
15... pissin-off-there-but-not-there-almost-sneezes
5... concerned but slightly germ-wary friends
2... leaky yet totally blocked, very rubbed and red nostrils
1... big fat pain-in-the-ass common cold attack!

So that's about my weekend. How was yours?

Motivation is what gets you started, Habit is what keeps you going

...So says my new shiny golden 'Fitness First' membership card. Yes, I went and re-joined the gym today and I am already feeling smug about doing something to keep one of my resolutions. It's only a tiny something, but hey, as a cheesy book had once told me, great journeys begin with a small step. (*Gloat Gloat*)

9 Resolutions for 09

I am a sucker for resolutions. And pretty much any event works. So I've done New year resolutions, I've made Birthday resolutions, I've even done April Fool's day resolutions (Don't ask!). Of course being able to make resolutions does not automatically translate into being actually able to keep them. That bit, that keeing-resolutions-bit, is the one I am notoriously bad at. But does that stop me from whipping out my pen and paper and making a list of resolutions for 2009? No Sire! Nor does it stop me from trying to keep the resolutions. So for your benefit here's the list-

1. Do one new thing every week (And I intend to report this every week, so keep 'em ideas coming on things I can do)
2. Lose 10 kgs and keep it that way (this one's featured on every NY- Resolutions list since 1997)
3. Write more and better and get published (any help, peeps out there?)
4. Buy a DSLR and improve my photography and Photoshop skills
5. Learn a language (the currrent favourites are French, Arabic or Mandarin- Any votes?)
6. Get a Singapore driving license
7. Travel to 5 new destinations in the year
8. Do atleast 20 things from my '100 things to do before I die' list
9. Manage my finances better and invest wisely (anyone who knows me, knows how bad I am with money)

Damn, this list will need all the luck and determination I can muster up. Jeez!

Gotta ask yourself the question, Where are you now?

I've been trying to psych myself into feeling something for the New Year, but between fluctuating work, visiting friends and mindless revelry, it hasn't worked. I don't feel anything yet for the New Year. It's just the changing of the date, a flipping of a number, something to rally some change around. Maybe that's why I haven't been able to write the customary 'new year post' (and it's not for the lack of trying). I guess when life itself becomes more eventful, these other events start to mean much less.

But 2008, that's a whole different pot of emotions. I feel heap loads about it. Probably the best year so far! Unexpected, very surprising and totally awesome. And here’s why!

• We shall call 2008 the Travel year of my life (and I hope 2009 outdoes it and steals the record). I globe trotted quite a bit and very unexpectedly so. First to Delhi for Uncleji's wedding in February. Then Bombay, Goa, Durham, Newcastle and London, all in the short stretch of time between leaving my job and joining the new one. The new job brought even more travel with it-Bangkok and KL for projects, Paris for training and Chiang Mai for a team building trip. And finally rounded up the year with a nice little trip to Melaka, Kl and Genting (after months and months of talking about it). Of course, given the travel glutton I am, I still ended the year feeling that there was so much more I hadn’t seen and done.

• 2008 was also the year I started blogging more regularly. And while initially it started off as a medium to channel the love-sickness I felt for Delhi and my life there, it slowly grew to become almost a reflection of me. I wrote about stuff I cared about (very often inane and inconsequential) without worrying if it was interesting enough to get any sort of readership. I was writing for myself and I was thoroughly enjoying it. And so it was even more surprising then when I found people reading my blog, relating to me and coming along willingly for the ride. (And I do say willingly, coz in the early days I did threaten a couple of people to read my blog. And NO, I am not proud of it!). And that’s when it came out with a vengeance. Knowing that there were people who read what u wrote, who cared about what u wrote, fueled me to write more or at least better. And it felt good. Simply to know that someone shared the same feelings, similar thoughts and appreciated it all. And so I’ll admit it, I do write for the readers (and I write for myself, coz the two don’t have to be contrary). So if you are reading this right now and have been a visitor here, then thank you! You are one of the reasons I had a fabulous 2008 and I hope you’ll hang around for the 2009 show. (And leave comments while you are at it, ok? ok! )

• 2008 was also the year I met a lot of new people, most of whom I really liked and a number of whom I got close to. Right at the top of the list are the two crazy people I started living with sometime in June (well technically they were not new people at the time given I had known them even last year but in all fairness it had been a very Hi-Bye thing then) Totally angelic and bitchy at the same time, Shoe-girl and Miss London have become ‘my gals’, the girlfriends I can count on to be game for anything under the sun, to come along for any stupid impractical adventure I think up or just simply to be there for me. And it has been a crazy and wonderful circus ride with them! (Thanks girls!) Some of the others on the list are fellow bloggers. APSD has to be mentioned at this point. He came over (more like invited himself shhhh!) one Sunday for a rajma-rice dinner and stayed on for post dinner conversation filled with Saif Ali Khan impressions and controversial topics. He even washed his own dishes! (very impressive). Every bit as quirky as his blog made him out to be (what with his geeky glasses and funky socks), he’s gotten to be someone I consider a good friend and go to for some worldly advice (Career advice- he’s brilliant at it!). Another such name in the list is Blackfayth. Though usually a resident of Mumbai, he called Singapore ‘home’ for all of December and a bit of January, during which we haunted all the live-music joints, tried all the food that Singapore is known for (I tried to persuade him to eat Durian, but he didn’t bite!), and even got him to pick up some Singlish (no lah, cannot lah, oso can!). A very charming and sweet guy, he has the most brilliant sense of humor I have seen in a while and needless to say, not a single moment with him is boring. (Women out there- Trust me, he’s a catch!). There are lots of others on the list, all of whom I won’t mention. But needless to say that the year wouldn’t have been the same without any of them, good or bad.

That's not to say a lot of shit didn't happen in the year. I had more ups and downs than ever before, felt depressed probably for the first time ever, met more jerks than I would have cared to, had slumps and highs in love, life and work. But in hindsight, you tend to only remember the good bits. So let’s call it a fabulous year and stick to that, aight?

And what do we think we have in store for 2009? I hope pretty wild things. I have some pretty big (some might call foolhardy) plans for this coming year and I just hope I have the ‘balls’ to see ‘em through. But no matter, plans or no plans, this year I’ll continue to laugh as loud, love as hard, dance as wild and live as large. Maybe even more than usual. So hang in there for the ride, coz things are going to get interesting. I promise!

Currently Listening: Broken Strings- James Morisson, Sober- Pink

PS- Given that last year, I wrote the customary ‘looking back at old year’ post all the way in June, I say we are doing fine this time round, no?

If that's all you will be, you'll be a waste of time...

... And so i'm back! With the usual optimism, the usual cheer and the usual gusto for everything that is life. And what better way to make a comeback, than with my '100 things to do before I die' list. Of course, it being December and the resolution-time of the year, makes it all the more apt.

(The list is a little incomplete, so keep 'em suggestions coming!!)

1. Run a marathon
2. Take horseback riding lessons
3. Learn to ski
4. Learn how to ice skate
5. Learn to water ski
6. Learn to sail
7. Become fluent in French
8. Learn conversational Spanish
9. Learn to say "hello" in 50 languages
10. Learn sign language
11. Learn Mandarin / Arabic
12. Learn to play the guitar with some degree of proficiency
13. Enroll in a belly dancing class
14. Compose a song
15. Ride in a hot air balloon
16. Go paragliding
17. Go sky diving
18. Go on a helicopter ride
19. Go scuba diving
20. Ride a mechanical bull
21. Climb Mt. Everest
22. Experience weightlessness
23. Go bungee jumping
24. Go white water rafting
25. Learn to fly a plane
26. Learn to play poker (or bridge)
27. Develop a talent for photography
28. Learn to make pottery
29. Learn to sculpt
30. Do woodworking
31. Learn to brew beer or make wine
32. Take up gourmet cooking
33. Paint - watercolors, oil, acrylics
34. Learn to repair a car
35. Make a difference in at least one person's life
36. Join a Big Brother, Big Sister Program
37. Join the Peace Corps
38. Get my article published in a magazine
39. Write the book I know I have inside me
40. Play a role in a movie or sitcom or a commercial or be an extra
41. Spend a week at a 5-star spa
42. Become a wine Connoisseur
43. Become financially literate and learn how to invest intelligently
44. Create enough passive income so that I don't have to work another day in my life
45. Watch the 100 movies on my "100 movies I want to see list"
46. Get married
47. Buy a home I love and spend time making it into the home I always wanted: with an inviting, joyous, comfortable, loving atmosphere
48. Start my Own Business
49. Adopt a pet from the animal shelter/ Keep a dog
50. Live in New York, atleast for a while
51. Live in a house by the lake or a beach house
52. Have a house with a terrace, a view, a library filled with books and a huge TV room
53. Be a spectator at TED Talks: an annual conference in California which brings together the world's most fascinating thinkers and doers, who are challenged to give the talk of their lives (in 18 minutes)
54. Meet the Dalai Lama
55. Visit Tibet
56. Spend a week at a Silent Retreat
57. Ask for forgiveness from all of the people I've hurt
58. Send my parents on their dream vacation.
59. Trace my ancestry
60. Visit the 100 places on my ‘100 places to visit’ list
61. Read all 100 books on my reading list
62. Learn to fly a plane
63. Have a star named after me
64. Make sure I tell my friends and family how much I love them so that when I DO die... they won't wonder and I'll be at peace
65. Be content with myself
66. Throw a dart onto a map and travel to where it lands
67. Spend six months getting my body into optimum shape
68. Get six-pack-abs
69. Get passionate about a cause and spend time helping it, instead of just thinking about it
70. See a favorite band/artist in concert
71. Drive a convertible with the top down and music blaring
72. Eat everything on BBC's '50 things to eat before you die'
73. Learn to bartend
74. Find a job I love
75. Get a tattoo or a piercing
76. Give up television and the internet for one month
77. Read the major religious texts for various religions
78. Throw a huge party and invite every one of my friends
79. Have my portrait painted
80. Spend a whole day eating junk food without feeling guilty
81. Give my mother a dozen red roses and tell my parents I love them
82. Stay out all night dancing and go to work the next day without having gone home (just once)
83. Shower in a waterfall
84. Teach someone illiterate to read
85. Ask someone I've only just met to go on a date
86. Donate money and put my name on something: a college scholarship, a bench in the park
87. Give a theatre performance publicly
88. Broadcast a show on the Radio
89. Kiss in the rain
90. Make a snow angel
91. Open my own restaurant/café
92. Attend an India-Pakistan cricket matc
93. Spend 3 months travelling around and getting to know India
    

Currently Reading: Bombay Meri jaan- Jerry Pinto, Naresh Fernandes
Currently Listening: Two points for honesty- Guster, Nothing ever hurt like you- James Morrison

Are the details in the fabric?

A depressive state is coming over me. Yes, me of the cheery smiles and the 'life is beautiful' outlook, I am feeling sad. And unsettled. And trapped. And panicky. And a million other things. I don't quite know what I am feeling. I don't think I can give it a name. It's a stranger to me. But a familiar one. It passes me often as I go on my day, my life. Occasionally I look into its eyes and realise truths I would rather not, only to quickly look away. Other times, I feel its presence and pretend to busy myself in mundane inconsequences-that black dress, that movie ticket, that cute guy. Yes I know this stranger. And I know why it lurks, even what it wants to tell me, remind me.

But how do I tell it, that I know! I know everything it wants to remind me. That this life I lead, is not what I signed up for, not what I thought was coming- This life of ducked heads in cubicles, blank stares at bright screens, this life of regimented comings and goings, this life that I still continue to fight for even though it makes me sad and disappointed.

This is the life where I dream of who I might have been, what I might have done and where I might have gone, And then, wake up to get ready for another cubicle day. This is the life where I chase behind things that I am told to care about: the paycheck, the security, the climb up the ladder, while I leave all that I really care about, in a corner neglected, second rated. This is the life where I lose respect for myself with each passing day for not having the courage to stand up to this life, to the world, to parents, to myself and get that life I yearn. This is the life where I don't even know what that ideal life looks life. I just know it's not this.

And knowing all that, this is the life I still continue to live- where I bury a little more of me, where I feel a little more dead with each passing day. I can hear Jason Mraz singing into my ear, telling me to "hold my own, know my name and go on my way". He says 'everything will be fine in no time at all'.

But I don't think so. I really don't.

Currently Listening: Details in the fabric- Jason Mraz, Prettiest friend- Jason Mraz
Currently Reading: Bombay, Meri Jaan- Jerry Pinto, Naresh Fernandes

Super-Quirk Me!

I've always thought myself to be fairly quirk-free. But over a conversation with APSD, I started thinking about quirks and it turns out I have quite a few. For your benefit, here they are-

1) I am a green tea addict. On any typical day I will have atleast 3-4 cups of green tea and on special days (read: freezing in office coz the AC is too effective) the number goes even higher.

2) I am usually excited about everything and will think nothing of breaking into a little dance move to the music only in my head or iPod, in the middle of a crowded MRT. Yes I've gotten some pretty wierd stares.

3) Up till some years back, I used to suck my thumb fairly regulary (read: 3-4 times a week) before going to sleep. Now I do it only when I am sleepy and in need of some comfort (which is rarely). And yet I protest when C-Tan calls me a 'baby'- Go figure!

4) I can write with both hands. And sometimes when I know people are watching me write, I will switch hands, just to be able to see the look of amazement on their faces (mixed with the thought- What a freak!). Ambidexterity rocks!

5) The only thing I will wake up to 'smiling' is music. Try an alarm clock on me and I will either not get up at all or I will get up violent (throwing alarm clock, phone, anything else in hand's reach type) and grumpy, in which case all around need to run for cover. But when it's music I am getting up to, chances are I'll be singing along and shaking a leg much before I even open my eyes. Thank god for radio alarm clocks, I say!

6) I still believe as fervently in the One-for-sorrow-two-for-joy birds as I did as a 7 year old. And I love the ones in Singapore, coz somehow they always predict joy for me.

And I thought I wasn't quirky. Yeah right!