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

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

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?

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!

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?

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!

The Others

Reading about Raj Thackeray's (& MNS's) issue with north Indians in Bombay, I was saddened and shocked. I was also reminded of a movie I had seen quite some time back called 'The Others'. In the movie, Nicole Kidman, who lives with her two kids, starts to feel the presence of 'others' in her house and gets very irked about it. She frets, she shouts, she expresses her anger, only to realise at the end of the movie that it is she who is the 'other', the spirit that has been living there beyond its time, the spirit that doesn’t have sole right over the house and hence has no right to ask anyone to leave. It’s quite obvious why I was reminded of the story and the parallels I am drawing.

Bombay is a great city. Perhaps even the greatest. And what makes it so, is exactly what makes New York the navel of the world. Bombay is a melting pot, a paradox, a ‘Khichdi’. And it’s always been proud about that.

Or atleast the Bombay I grew up in.

The Bombay I grew up in was about differences, about having a certain attitude. In that Bombay it did not matter who you were, where you came from or what you did, as long as you had a dream and you could keep with the pace. That Bombay was about accepting; about holding out a hand from an overcrowded train to help a running stranger get in, without asking who he was or where he was from. That Bombay was about adjusting; about squeezing into a train seat to fit 7 where 4 were meant to sit. That Bombay took in everyone who came to its stations and airports from near and far, and became the richer for it.

The Bombay I grew up in was where a kid would attend a college run by a Sindhi Trust, eat Indian Chinese food made by a Raju (who was most probably a migrant from UP or Bihar), rush to classes run by an Aggarwal, ride in a taxi driven by a yadav, Cheer at a cricket match played by Tendulkar or Dravid, lap up movies acted in by a Khan and aspire to work in companies owned by an Ambani. That Bombay was Joshi, Patel, Subramaniam, Shah, Bansal, Aggarwal, Yadav, Fernandes, Singh and many others. It was Straight, Gay, bi-sexual, deviant and devout. It was stinking rich, upstart wealthy, nobly middle-class, and roadside-poor. It was desi, urban, and American-confused. The Bombay I grew up in was the Bombay that had a place for everyone.

And that Bombay belongs to no one. Not to me, not to you, not to the Marathis, not to the Gujaratis and definitely not to hooligan Politicians. It belongs to anyone and everyone who has ever lived in it, dreamed in it and carried a piece of it in their hearts. And we all belong to that Bombay. We all make it what it is. We all love it for what it represents. And we all want to keep it the way it is.

So Mr. Thackeray, like it or not, I am a Bombay-ite. And I don’t need to speak any one language, wear any particular clothing, celebrate any specific festivals or have a specific surname to call myself that. I just need to love the city and uphold everything that is great about it.

Perhaps you should ask yourself, how Bombay-ite are you? You might just find, it’s you who are the ‘other’ that doesn’t understand what Bombay is about; the ‘other’ that should stop creating a nuisance!

Currently Reading: Big book of crafts
Currently Listening: Forever- Papa Roach, Disturbia (Acoustic)- Boyce Avenue

PS- Yes- Bombay, not Mumbai!
PS2- See 'The Others' if you haven't already. though I've probably ruined the movie for you, giving away the twist and all. But still.

PussyCat Dolls, Rajiv Gandhi and good ol' me!

These days, the Pussycat Dolls make a very regular appearance on MTV malaysia, shaking their booties while crooning "When I grow up I wanna be famous I wanna be a star I wanna be in movies..." The song itself is very typically PCD- Bimbotic, stupid and totally catchy. But that's not what this post's about. Hearing the song always gets me thinking about my ambitions as a kid. All the professions I suffixed to the statement “when I grow up, I want to be…” And as expected, none of it was straightforward or even slightly predictable.

In 1st standard, when most of the girls around me wanted to be princesses and the guys wanted to be engine drivers (or something equally childish), I wanted to be the Prime Minister of India. Yes you heard that right! And not in the way that people say ‘someday I want to be a rich man”. I was convinced, that was my calling in life. Of course my conviction was the result of a lot of things. A very charming and dashing Rajiv Gandhi, a whole lot of media swooning about the man, my very impressionable mind and perhaps my first and tiniest ever crush. I remember being very idealistic about it. And then came the bombing. And my political aspirations died with the man. You see I hadn’t realized prime Ministers could die doing their job. I decided it was too dangerous and that I liked living. I liked it much more than I liked the idea of being a PM.

So once the PM idea was shelved, I needed a new ambition. A new answer for when adults asked me “Beta, what do you want to be when you grow up”. And I settled on ‘Scientist’. I did not have any idea what exactly a scientist did or how long it took to become one. I couldn’t be bothered with practicalities like that. All I knew was that it was honorable to be a scientist and that I wouldn’t lose my life being one. Nothing else mattered. Of course soon I started hearing from old aunties and uncles that Scientist’s are mad. And I decided that I had to get a new ambition. I reasoned, what good was ‘honorable’ and ‘alive’ when everyone thought you were loony.

My next ambition was probably indicative of the stage of life I was in. A teenager drawn to prettiness and the pursuit of it, I decided to abandon all notions of honor and give in to my creative and flashy side. I wanted to be a fashion designer. I toyed with the idea for a while. I looked hard for some successful role models to point at and say “I want to be like them”. But I found none. What I found were people who did not treat fashion designing as a serious profession. Whenever I revealed my ambition with pride to anyone, what I heard most often was- “You want to be a tailor?” As you can imagine, that was a dampener.

I flirted with a range of professions after that, but none with enough conviction. I rejected them all for some reason or the other. Business woman- Not honorable and with low success rate (I was only a kid, remember), Hotelier- requires lots of moolah which I didn’t have, Chartered Accountant- appealed to my nerdy side but seemed like a lot of drudgery and hardwork. Amongst a blur of professions, I began to realize that I did not need to categorize my ambition. Or at least not in the typical sense. My ambition did not need to equate to a profession- A doctor or an enginner or an accountant.

And that was when I knew that what I really wanted to be when I grew up, was simply happy! So I gave into life and decided to swim with it.

So now I am all of 23 years and I have a profession. I am a consultant. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to be so much more and so much else. I want to be a chef. I want to be an author. I want to be a traveller. I want to be a restaurateur. I want to be a presenter. I want to be a designer. And now after writing this post, I think I may again want to be the prime minister of India.

Here's to me and my dreams!

PS- So given my rekindled political aspirations, I might just eventually become the prime Minister of India. My acceptance speech would start something like- “First of all I would like to thank the inspiring gyrations and vocal renditions of the Pussy Cat Dolls. I wouldn’t be here without them. *sniff*” That would be some day for India. I would go down as a legend. Even bigger than Laloo. Now how’s that for an ambition!

Currently Reading: Lonely Planet Paris
Currently Listening: If it makes you happy- Sheryl Crow, Rescue me- Aretha Franklin, Ni Nachley- Imran feat. lucky