The Curse of Daddy

Is knowing about what you always wanted to do a good thing? Personally, I have been whacked by destiny trying to make definite stubborn choices since I was quite young.

My father, a typical " I don't want my kids to take the tough path" sort off business man wanted his daughter to barely finish schooling and join an oh so plush Interior Decoration course. To his dismay; I wasn't the kind of daughter he should have got.

Committed to making intricate puzzles ever since I was six instead of doll making, my dreams were kind of twisted according to him. By the time I entered 11th grade, my dreams became a nightmare for him. Interested in Biology and yearning to be a doctor my ambition didn't really fit well in my dad's business mind model. He considered my books to be equivalent to body building dumbbles and the content in them, a mere waste of paper resources. Although he never discouraged me but I always knew it didn't make him happy.

I died explaining; his arguments never sufficed. Ultimately I made up my mind to take defiance to the next level and told him that if he wasn't going to change his opinion, nor was I. Numerous upheavals at home and pissing off episodes made us each other's closest dopplegangers and worst enemies.

By the end of class 12, I was not only fighting the examinations battle alone but also the application threats. Talking to my dad's accountant more than anyone in my family, my applications were sealed and delivered and so were my expectations.

Compromising to come to common ground, I chose Manipal for a year. Closer to home (not really) and within constant reach (again not at all); the deal sounded legitimate to the MAN. A little detail about it being a twinning program was hidden. I can't forget my dad's words when I told him I got to leave for England; he said:" I wish your kids trouble you the same way like you have troubled me." Two long breathers and I swallowed the guilt with ease.

The years passed in a glimpse. Back home as an Engineer (succumbing to daddy's promise) I am doing something which did not require the amount of academics I had chewed over 4 years. In a recent conversation about the future and the babies; I was shocked to hear myself saying: I will never ask my kids to study as much as I did or even close. I wanted to reform those sentences but too late. The truth was on the table; clear and crisp. The cursed had worked I guess. I was so glad my parents weren't in the vicinity when I uttered those forbidden words!

The truth is one learns from experience and uses it so that our loved ones' experiences don't make them learn. Its like studying from a past papers guide for an exam. Yes you might score well but the chances are always dim. Everyone has to learn their own way whether its through a kick or a whack. Mine was a whack!

Red in colour, distinctive patches of black

Red in colour, distinctive patches of black, capable of flying yet crawls. I can't recall the last time I saw one of the finest creations (according to me at least). Although I do remember being absolutely heartless and catching them in my hand just to marvel at the detailing.

My fascination with polka dots made me a little biased towards ladybirds but there was just something about them that made me a committed collector.
Innumerable Lunch breaks in my former convent school were spent hoping/waiting under a particular tree for them to fall. So naïve; they would think our palms to be continuations of the leaves they were used to casually treading. One thing I can't draw out of my mind is the silence with which they walked; nil sensation on the skin, the moment your attention span breaks, they escape.

We have so much to learn from these tiniest pieces of nature. Shouldn't we be the same way in the lives of others? Not burden them with our presence, be there when they need us and walk off without significant complaining if they don't need us anymore.

As I said, its been ages I saw a ladybird. If you know what I mean.

"THODA ADJUST KARIYE!"

Ever since September two o one one, I have taken public commuting a little too seriously. It has almost become a daily challenge; convince myself day after day to get accustomed to the very fine Delhi metro.

Every now and then I question my own sanity considering my new found commitment to the metro. Thanks to the women's compartment, every 24 minute and 32 seconds journey is full of discoveries and learning. A new character (or many more if I get lucky that is) is waiting to be noticed.

One thing that I have continually failed to understand is India's disrespect for other's privacy. The occasional times when lady luck smiles and I manage to get a seat; it'll only be about a minute of luxury until a mob of ladies enter at the very next station and come running saying "thoda adjust kijiye". Adjust with what? Leave my one ass cheek at work and travel? My inability to argue after 7 hours of work eventually leads to the "very adjusting" person get her own seat as I get up and stand at my very own corner(yes I have found my very own shady corner in the metro).
Expect a thanks or atleast an acknowledgment? NO way. You might actually be laughed at like me for being incapable of standing up for yourself.

Winter has set in; so has the ultimate Indian dressing to stay warm. While having nothing to do, I notice fine details of what Indian women consider work apparel to be. Some very interesting, others trying too hard. The impact of luxury brands is so evident yet unknown. Bangkok's overflowing markets and cheap prices have done the trick. Unimaginable tweaks to the native luxury products, one can see flashes of non-existent sizes of the Lady Dior or never seen before Chanel head bands or even burberry headphones! Its wonderful how it can make you doubt the authenticity of your own purchase for a second amidst so many labels while traveling from work!

While walking through the aisle, you can literally be scanned top to toe by every women occupying the "fit for the queen"seats. So busy on their phones making conversations with god knows who, they will continue to scream "hello", "hellloooo", "heloooooo" even though they know that the train has entered the underground path. And keep trying the number again and again until they get through for a second to say Indian connectivity na, completely sucks. I want to literally go upto someone and tell them that there will be a world outside the train to talk!

It gets even more annoying when in a jam packed metro with literally just enough place to breathe; someone takes out a big fat novel to read. Jeez there isn't place to set your feet on the ground and you want to be reading? I really appreciate those making this unnoticeable effort of brushing up their reading in the free time but not when someone's book slams into my face as the train stops unexpectedly.

Even better is the love for rucksacks, as if everyone in this train is waiting for this woman to keep her bag aside so that we can attempt to steal it! It is so funny how no one is ready to part with their property so that others can get a place to stand. NO, infact I wouldn't be surprised if they stole a seat for just their belongings.

sigh...Moral of my journeys: In Delhi if you ain't trying to get ownership of anything even a metro seat, you are useless material !

I just pray literally PRAY that everyone realises that public transport is called PUBLIC because everyone travels in it equally.

Screaming Anyone?

Ever heard of decibel training? I have taken a little different view of this. It is for people to be able to turn it down, walk away and learn the effect of blaring decibels. Boring it may sound; it can be innovated to take the funniest forms.

Ok I'll give you an insight. First, think of someone who is unreasonably angry all the time, snaps at others, screams at the top of his/her voice. I'm sure we know someone or the other like that, some professor, sibling(I am not trying to imply anything) etc.
So picture them getting furious at you, ridiculing you. Would you dare answer back? Trigger another level anger? NO

Here's what you should do, KEEP looking into their eyes very calmly and whenever their decibels go out of limits, START SINGING very calmly. I would recommend "why this kolaveri kolaveri di".
They would be startled, irritated and would bring down their tone but momentarily only. As a trusted prescription, repeat this whenever they behave like a pressure cooker. They will be so embarrassed to scream at you (atleast you) that they will avoid it. But remember you need to have the courage to be consistent with the singing and innovative with the songs.

I can give other examples as well. This professor was utterly bugged with people sitting on the far away benches instead of the front ones in a large classroom with low attendance for obvious reasons. But the rowdy political class that was; never listened to him. So he resorted to this technique as well. Every time even a single student sat at the back, he kept smiling and said nothing. throughout. This continued for a while until the students got super irritated with his smile and perseverance so they gave up sitting at the back!

Patience is the key. I used to practice this when I was a kid unknowingly though. Whenever someone called me by the wrong pronunciation of my name, I never replied. Until a few months later no one called me IshTA.
Its funny how animals show a greater interest in improving upon subjected to something like this. If your doggy loves coming in the kitchen or any area you dislike; stop acknowledging him, pretend like he isn't there. Do this repeatedly until he will start avoiding that area all together.

It is really obnoxious how our brain can be tricked so easily. Even diet sodas can trick our mind into believing that is sugar for us. Jeez the wonders we can do in making our mind or others believe in what we want!

The Dowry Calculator ! : Buoys please know your worth

http://www.dowrycalculator.com/

I regret to inform you...

Regret, a word I despise. There's just this negative aura to this vowel+constanant formation that puts me off. Its true form is seen when someone says; I regret to inform you... Ultimate impact. On the contrary it has saved me from reading many depressing emails, as soon as I see the danger thread of words, its a clear ta-ta to my mailbox. Usage in a sentence makes it deadly but recently a write up about the same word used in a very different context left me pondering about the duality of its meaning.
So since I am working in Elder Care, its not a big deal when someone says: what if our client dies in the middle of the contract? Jeez it sounds even more ruthless when inked down. Nevertheless, yes we talk this lingo of in consideration while formatting our customer contract material. We are constantly searching for stimulating material for our elderly. Just recently someone sent me an abstract from some blog. It talked about the 5 biggest regrets of patients/elderly/people suffering from constant illnesses. The first mental picture in my head was; this old man on a ventilator saying I regret... Snap changed my thinking of this word.
If a person on his/her deathbed is concerned with a single word that sums up everything they didn't do, man that's strong for a six letter word. My name is six letters and will define me as an individual when I say my goodbyes but hopefully I'll be remembered as an individual and not a six letter formation. But a word like regret sums up one's entire life desires in the end. People in that abstract said they regretted not expressing what they truly felt, regretted working too hard, regretted acting like others expected them to, regretted lost relationships. All very believable and enlightening for us.
I have this suggestion for anyone who has their sirs and dames living with them. Tell them to pen down all their worries, tensions, disagreements, dislikes, expectations and disappointments on chits and drop them in a box. Every month or two; pick up one chit for them and address it together. Remember it can take ages to tackle some problems, but it'll only take them a second to call it a regret of a lifetime.

The Shaadi Business

Marriages are made in heaven, they say. I feel yes may be but they are certainly ruined on earth, above all ; manipulated in India. I have actually seen the personification of the satire "Importance of being earnest" at a couple recent Indian parties. C'mon Its december; inevitably the best time to talk about tying the knot.

The degeneration of interest in a candidate's personality, the moolah factor is certainly ruling.
Soft skills in the bin, let's talk money baby. So what if you love my daughter, its him who can buy her the rocks. So what if you are a Harvard graduate, its him who didn't study and yet has more money. And by any chance, you are one of those art-sey creative ones, they'll be like- he's not okay in the head only beta.

This shaadi business, especially in Delhi has no under the table players. What you got, its on the table. Dolling up their fab daughters in clothes that cost more than the party itself, this class of aunties is easily recognisable. You can see them subtly pushing or elbowing their beauties to talk to some 'dashing due to papas money' boy who is happily soaking up all the attention. Commendable on field marketing skills you see. The match arranging rituals have clearly shifted from the vicinity of the living room to plush parties and weddings.

I don't entirely talk against it. So what if you meet someone at a planned party rather than a shady club coincidentally. Maybe heavens are thinking a bit too easy for you. One of sisters once said: Didi when you buy a dog, you use your gut feeling and eventually you do fall in love with it so bad that it is impossible to let go. She said marriage is somewhat the same; you have a gut feeling about someone, go for it, get married before he can break your heart!

Winter Mornings

The smoggy winter morning brings back memories dipped in years of schooling. The struggle with tiny skirts, saviour blazers, multicoloured mufflers and the not so long sleeves. The low lying fog covering the field and us as kids pretending to smoke with the help of cigarette candy expelling the icy breathe.

Still remember getting ready early morning at 6 with heaters in every corner of the room and constantly praying that the fog being the culprit will declare a holiday. Never true. The winter exams were ultimate. Shivering and trying to recollect what one studied in the chill of the previous night, not so successful. And now that I come to it, we never had heaters in our schools. God life would have been, well chilly. Its funny how all this never mattered when you were with a bunch of friends trying to make the most out of what you've got. How naïve, yet never judged.

Even melody toffee was a treat and bhutta from the street, evening snack. Outdoors was our first love and TV was just a time pass tool. The balancing of the last bite of the cola bar in summers was a talent and having icecream in a cup, the most loser-ish act. Boy bands were a must and dance classes were meant for actually just dancing! Braces was a sign of being spoiled and the color of the bands on the teeth, a fashion statement. The canteen food; calories were unheard of and hygiene was nothing to care about.

The fog so dense it got harder to see further, further into the near future. In the constant hurry to grow up, I forgot how priceless those years were. Studies were the last thing on my mind as things just kept materialising for themselves without too much to do or think about. They say generations have developed huge gaps. I truly believe in it. Unable to relate to my own siblings a few few years younger to me is not very surprising any more. It doesn't astound me if I can't understand some joke cracked by my little brother or the scare that prevails in my nerves before opening my younger sister's facebook profile. Things indeed have taken a huge poseidon like turn.

It was understood that we could pick up our bicycles and run off to play with whomsoever we wanted, now it seems like an invite to kidnappings, harassing etc. The dark used to be my deadline, now seems like the breaking dawn for many girls and guys much much younger to me. And above all that, you get to hear stuff like OMG didi whats wrong with you! Grow up. Ok then.

Funny it is how time plays tricks on you, kindles you first and then becomes against you !

your mum said you are unique. NOT

So after knowing nine thousand four hundred sixty three people, yes 9463 (don't worry you can calculate too, wait for it) I have realised there are not many types of us guys. Damn, The whole big dome that we have built claiming how complex and distinguished everyone is, all sham.

All I can reason it with is that as we grow up, we take forms of people we find inspiration in or even because we might be genetically tweaked to be like we are. Blame it on the genes or imitation, let's face it if you grew up fantasizing about Warren Buffet, you can't be Paris Hilton or if you went gaga over Mr. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, you wouldn't be well let's not go there !

The bottom of the pot being, when 99 percent of our DNA make up is IDENTICAL then even nature doesn't give you the permission to brag about how UNIQUE you are ( unless you are one of those who are inspired by the Satanic bible haha and think you came into this world for different purposes ). So I have tortured my mind to think of prototypes that I have come across.

Warning: If you know me, please don't think who have I kept in my mind before penning something down; just give me a silent hypothetical high five in your mind. Let me start with some obvious ones: (feel free to attach prefixes; I'm kind of lazy) Mr/Ms/Mrs/...

"I know it all"

"I will deny everything others say"

"I came into this world to annoy others"

"I care about animals. Poor puppies, kittens."

"I'll take care of this/that/him/you/her/everything"

"My dad can buy you/your dad/ your dads family!"

"I took birth in 1921"

"I'll just act stupid even though you don't know smart I am"

"I laugh to make others crack up"

"I'll just grow out my hair and wear rugged clothes to be considered an artist"

"I judge people according to their grammar"

"I was the drummer for my school band, don't mess with me"

"I'll smudge my kohl liner in the eyes to be considered all goth"

"If someone overtakes my car, its their last day"

"I don't know how people get poor?" (Ok iv actually heard that, always cracks me up)

"I didn't get a job, I was born to be an entrepreneur yaaa"

"We need to work for the poor, let's file for an ngo (sipping cocktails at set'z)"

"I am a natural politician."

"I am super talented but will never say it, just show it" (love such people ! )

"I carry my camera everywhere."

"I have more pictures of myself than anything else"

"my laptop/ps3 is my world and I don't look beyond that"

"So many people in my life but I still feel alone"

"I don't remember faces/names/numbers"

"Do I know you?"

"Ill be cool if I can get 4-5 tattoos on my body"

"I'm so philosophical that I forget what I was saying half way through. life is sometimes...pause...lost"

"I can never be single"

"I know what he said to her, what she said to them, what they had to say about her.. ahhh"

.

.

. so many more! go ahead ADD !

And about the number 9463, I know it just how birbal knew the number of crows in Akbar's kingdom. wink

Exit Number 3: Delhi-Gurgaon Highway

Exit Number 3 on the highway : Left- Gurgaon , Right - T3 International Airport

Somehow that exit sign did not leave my head for a while, until it struck me a few days earlier, it was the junction of my current state of mind.

Toughest choice to make, bigger consequences to face. Sitting on any random September 2011 day, I was making that choice every single second. Weighing the pros and rechecking the cons, the choice of a lifestyle to choose was being slipped under the carpet every other day.

Do I pick up my bags (along with a little dose of family ignorance) and proceed to higher education or drive left to Gurgaon where tiny ambitions were kindled in sky scrapers?

Others found it so easy to answer this dilemma for me. They said do what your heart says. Little do they know: the heart does not pay for education and also does not get you a job later!

Some said: Once you start working, there is no chance you will be able to get to studying later. I thought, if I don't work, how will I miss my uni life? arghhh such a mess.

With Imperial Business School offer knocking on my IP address, I thought even though it was my dream to study there, but was it so easy to get it? Was I exceeding any boundaries to dream or remaining within borders looking at the closest star?

It brought back some memories of someone telling me "If you keep achieving all your goals easily, you are keeping your goals too easy!" If it was that simple to get whatever I wanted, then why didn't it seem like an absolute choice?

This thought drives me to work everyday. A job, I thought I would never nail, a responsibility I never thought I could handle. To be able to achieve something that I never thought I would is giving me more happiness than I had thought. Things always have a way of teaching you something, sometimes in ways you never thought.

Bhel Puri: Inspiration at 10:30pm

They say inspiration is never far from you but I did not know it comes in the form of road side bhel puri.

About 10:30 pm last night, I was waiting for my driver to pick me up from the Taj parking. Hungry after work, I saw this bhaiya carrying this heavy platter on his head and called him towards our car.

Bhel Puri, he said without being asked. He seemed like an influential guy and a big hit with all the "badi gadi "drivers that waited outside. My friend gave me the weird stares which were screaming NO. Surrounded by second thoughts about my upset tummy tomorrow, I asked for "one plate". The worst case scenario being, I shall be on holiday the next day (which didn't seem too bad !)

He took good 5-7 minutes to make the bhel, cut the veggies, season it, the works. For 25 rupees, it was brilliant. Although I feel the price was highly influenced by the area he was roaming about. Also, even though my spice tolerance is way higher than a lot of people I know, yet I had to invest in a bottle of water from the adjoining ccd.

No sales strategy, let alone marketing. This guy was a moving banner of his advertisement and the taste of his deliverable built his credibility instantly. I will not be surprised if sub-consciously I am looking for him everytime I am in that area.

I thought, the only barrier(apart from my mom) that kept me from trying something like that from a road vendor was the drilled fear of infection due to unhygienic preparation. If that was regulated, people would be much more accepting to such treats.

There is so much being done for the cottage industries, native weavers, etc in India but what about the food nativity. Yes, places like dilli haat are trying very hard to promote traditional food stalls. But the monopoly is maintained by those who are resourceful enough to get there. What about the others who are doing a great job but don't get enough representation?

Ever tasted the sukarkhand chaat (sweet potato), moong dal chaat or sugar cane sellers, etc etc ? What if the hygiene levels are monitored and ingredients regulated, will not all of us love to atleast give them a shot at surprising us?

I thought early next year, I really want to hold a small event promoting these small vendors. please tell me if you know any other thing that is a street specialty and we are ignoring it?

The Indian Aunties + Uncles

Ever since I moved back to India (hopefully for good), I can't help but notice the "inquisitiveness" of Indian aunties and uncles.

Trust me, after four years of Engineering and torture of applying to a couple jobs and finally doing something I love, the last thing I want to hear is "so what are you doing next?" or "beta aage ka plan kya hain? " or even "so when are you leaving for your mba?" or best one "when are you getting married?" arghhhh

I truly believe our Indian aunty-uncle population has been trained to talk like this! The best part being I feel like saying: Ëven my parents have not asked me all that;But NO, my mom's aunty's brother's wife would like to know my future plans (I hope I don't have anyone who is actually related to me like that ! haha)

To add icing to my current cupcake size ambitions, most of the people I meet are like so how long do you think you plan to stick to this company?

The only answer that comes to my mind is : hmm ye of course x years, actually I have even planned where I shall be celebrating my kid's 16th birthday , you wana know that?! blah

It gives me the feeling like I am lying down in a long grass lawn staring at the winter sun while clouds are passing by and some aunty is blocking my view by standing on my head !

But 4 months and counting, I have learnt some amazing lessons to avoid such conversations. The most apt being: if you know anyone from their family, bring their topic in: more like "aunty what is your son doing? " or " how come your daughter ain't married yet?" And your life problems would be negligible to them as their stories start to pour .

Speaking from absolute experience, LEARN THEIR LINGO. Let me elucidate a little.

If someone tells you "when are you getting married?" , you can say: "aunty 14th of next month, muma did not invite you? " or

"aunty I am still discovering my sexuality"

and if you are a little faint hearted then: "whenever you find me a guy aunty, so when should I come over for lunch? "

Its brilliant how the concern spreads like a forest fire in India. "She told me", "I heard from so and so", "He was telling us over dinner" etc etc. No conversation here ends in a confined room or a dinner table.

Confidentiality is undermined and Sharing is taken a little too seriously.

There lies the fun in saving your ass in a place like this !

The English - Asian Connection

There I sat at the edge of a trunk table of this airy outdoor place in front of someone I had seen about 4 years ago. No idea what to say, just trying to keep the conversation alive. He did not stare into my eyes while talking and made occupational smoking an excuse to look away now and then. I had no clue I would be spending a long long time with this guy who was trying so hard to hide his shyness that it was more and more obvious second by second.

Started with facebook, a really random message one day. A 'hi' on the chat ignored several times by me was somehow reverted to that day and the talks just overflew. So overly impressed by him, I couldn't stop wondering as to how I was so small discussing 3 percent worth assignments while he was out there talking of LOIs, procurement problems, terms that made absolute no sense to me. I loved hearing; although I must say Commodity trading was not a very interesting topic for a gossip girl series follower like me ! Somehow when he spoke; it all made sense.

A dinner in return for a creative business favour; it was decided and I had succumbed. Who knew it wouldn't stop there. Fate was definitely on our side as neither the conversation went dry nor did my quench for apple caramel mojitos; and later not being charged for it, simply wonderful !

Soon we bid goodbye. England was my love and South East Asia his. With absolute nothing in common, it was so easy to forget, so easy to let go, even easier to not recollect later. But sometimes things are planned to click, planned to create that dent as he calls it.

Singapore could be heaven for shopaholics, a work wonderland for those hard working bankers and engineers, sheer fun for college goers et al. Somehow I felt he didn't fit anywhere. He was indeed trying hard, very hard for something I had no idea about until much later. It was killing me; the suspicion of what he does, where he stays, etc but had no answers what so ever.

I happened to ask him once in one of our million telephonic conversations, why is that I don't know anything about you? He paused for a second and said: Well when I figure on Forbes a few years later will you still ask me this question? I was stunned, a little pissed too I must say with his overconfidence and streak of vanity. I avoided conversation for a couple months until one day I got to know things that would change what I think of him completely.

While I slept on a king size bed in an apartment overlooking the plush city center of Sheffield; he was checking in and out of backpacker hostels. While I updated my Skype for the newest version; he saved money to use the Cybercafe pcs to talk to me. While I bought a new phone asking my dad; he saved up to upgrade his bb services. I searched for his Birthday gift everywhere I could; he wrote me a letter. I bought him a wallet; he got me an antique compass from 1920 British Raj in India. While I discussed the sales around; he discussed the stock market.I talked of submissions; he talked of meetings across countries. While I sat and howled about coming second; he accepted dissolved business deals like a gulp of water.

The difference was so obvious! While things kept lining up for me; he had to trim and cut from every corner to find a fresh piece of life. But still I felt he was much more satisfied; so content to be able to do things one self even though the option of help was just a phone call away. I fretted earlier. Entirely jealous of other girls being swept off their feet by their beloveds. One thing I kept forgetting whatever he did; he did it for me. Whatever he did; he never let me feel it was out of troublesome efforts.

Sometimes you don't have to go far to find someone who is ready to hold you when you fall. But you certainly need to fall to go far with someone! I did.

Love Tutorial. Location: Ladies Room, set'z

It was June of two o one o, summer just kicked in and so did the levels of endorphin. Delhi was the place to be and due to infidel deals with love, boys were a big NO. Girl power was being endorsed. I did not believe that an encounter in the ladies room of set'z was going to be leaving a dent in my mind.

A few long islands and our tiny bladders led us to the plush washroom. Quite a wait, alcohol was beginning to stir emotions. My friend (she who shall not be named) had yet again started whining about what we had come to forget in the first place. Trying very hard to empathise with her, I failed to notice the growing interest and urge to advice her in the vicinity. I tried to shush her out of sheer embarrassment but all in vain as she was loving the " we've all been there" stories. The crowd soon submerged; I opened my sprouse vuitton and pulled out my supposed long lasting mascara for a touch up; my friend was doing the same and I was cursing her for all the unwanted attention.

Looking in the mirror, this very polished woman; might have been in her 30's was standing behind me. It seemed like she was waiting for us to finish our touching up rituals. Turned out she wasn't waiting for us to make space for her, she had been eavesdropping upon our entire conversation. As we started to leave, she said girls you might not believe me today but a few years later you will. She said: "Love is like finding the lost keys to your apartment, it belongs to no one but you unless you're planning on moving out"

We were quite amused by her and mentally thanked her for merry-ing the mood since rest of the night was spent predicting what was she on?
Summer dissolved soon and dissertation deadlines were the only adrenaline kicking factor left in the life of registration number 090158474 that is, ME.
One day after a glass or two of chardonnay, I thought of what that woman had said the other day at set'z. It actually made sense.
I thought:
"Love is like finding the lost keys to your apartment, you might search the whole world and find one self sitting on a cushion under which they are hidden."
"Love is like finding the lost keys to your apartment, you might have left them in someone else's possession, but if that's the only piece you got, you'll do anything to procure them."
"Love is like finding the lost keys to your apartment, you wouldn't care about the same keys if you found a better apartment! " "Love is like finding the lost keys to your apartment, if someone else has a copy, man its an unsafe place to live in."

And my thoughts continued...

So have you lost your apartment keys off late ? About time find out where they are before you realise your parents start looking for a new apartment , maybe even a house for you ! Haha

Mr. Desai's Awakening

So my friend, Mr. Desai left me thinking, were my friends just statues and stones that my first instinct was to not write about them. I tried to defend this thought by saying NO there is just too much to write but that's not what the real reason was. The real reason is the lack of updates or knowledge of what anyone is doing. Honestly, I do not doubt my capability of keeping connections and especially after being equipped with the world to sit on my lap through facebook, I have no excuses for being MIA.

I don't know where to begin or rather who to begin with. Are they too many of them or there is too less to write. I think the answer lies mid-way.

Kunal made me ponder, who was the first one I bumped into in Manipal? Hmm... practically PG was the very first person I saw belonging to our college and the last one until I graduated from Sheffield; right from the flight I took to Manipal to my convocation at the Octagon. Funny how it didn't strike me until now. Next person I can bang on recollect is Ms. Shanbhag, my supposed roommate until I switched and she got a great friend.

Walking through the hall way of Valley view for the Orientation on Aug 24, 2007, I can't remember any faces I saw. Funny how it just doesn't strike, probably due to the nervousness!

Wait, I can recollect a loud confident voice talking to my mom. Aki was the next person I met. Very genius, very quick and extremely tom-boyish, I had NO idea I'd be knowing her for so so long. It was she who dragged me with her aura saying have you met this other girl from CAL? And I thought, these guys are crazy to have come from California to this town to do what, STUDY? To my disappointment, rather reassurance, CAL stood for our very own Bengali Capital, Calcutta. Phew. I did not know I'd be the co-occupier of 116 with this person from CAL, who I hadn't met yet.

In class on the following Monday after orientation, I came across Kunal, the Bombay-obsessed dude dressed in so called formals due to the fear of being ragged. He introduced me to the one with the large rounded alphabets, my favourite gentleman (literally) Rajnush. I was so excited I had found someone who had sophistication on his tongue and Delhi on his mind. The encounter was short and the repercussions of that even shorter. Engrossed in completely different worlds, we fell in this gap that just grew deeper as the eventful two years passed by.

Shreya from CAL was the one I was destined to stay with for two consecutive years of Manipal. Crazy about clothes and shoes and vacations and magazines etc we couldn't have gone wrong in any sense while choosing a roommate. Sometimes similarities strike and they did. When the issue of different continents sets in, you're in for a big gap.

One day after some lecture ended, these thin scrawny boys (I am sure they look very different now) walked into our section and started talking to their hostel inmates. I don't remember who all were they, but I do know one of them became my great friend, that is, Saurab aka Juicy. I had literally explored Manipal with him , just aimlessly walking around, chatting about our different lives in different cities. As soon as dinner ended at the mess, I used to wait for Saurab to religiously arrive at the gate of 13th block; it was amazing to just converse with someone who was exactly opposite yet so understanding. That too, I must say did not carry on too long as the 70 percent pass mark kicked us around in the butt.

Another light weight and my reallllly good friend, Mr. Chandak with the Chaplin mostache, kept flying around here and there due to reasons known and unknown. I remember meeting him through Saurab. He spoke, but very occasionally and when he did, boy he made sense. He has been my "father" throughout Manipal and even after. Absorbed in his semi conductors and programming, he rarely would look at you if the purpose wasn't important enough. Clan-ned up with his men, I am so proud he has found time for me even though I have been just like a kid bugging/annoying/blaming him or even better. just fighting with him even though the fault was very much my own.

Then there was the curly haired Coorg queen, Subbaiah; very popular with the boys and also on the basket ball ground, she never ever found a single moment when she was troubled/tensed or bounded by issues. There for me throughout Manipal, I have no idea where she is today but I hope is just like she has always been i.e. Smiling.

Closely following Ati from Bangalore, was Mihir with his 'waist on the knees' jeans and flashing boxers. Too much fun to be around and talks too deep to sometimes comprehend, he had times going for him in his little town where language was not a barrier for him and charm was endless. Not to forget his clan of late arrivers in class and constant mocking attitude. Studying with him to fighting because I didn't get things done my way, I had an amazing time just trying to figure him out.

And there were many others who left a significant mark in my mind whether it was borrowing Gossip girl from Meghna or Lindtts from Zoya or 'gossip' from Shrimayi or dance moves from Sonia.

Wonderful for me to have been touch with you guys and even those who are not mentioned here, I swear there have too many moments highlighted in the back of my mind but of course I am getting old to savour every memory! so forgive me !

A pack of cards; Two Jokers

It has kind of become an obsession now.

A simple talk shared with friends in my dimly lit den at 403 is taking the shape of a belief rather superstition in whatever I have been doing recently. In fact to my surprise I even relate to the past events in my life following the same overrated piece of conversation.

It was post dinner, my friends and I were delving in our regular routine- a few desserts with too much smoke engulfing the room. The topic of the day was : Past Relationships. Everyone was laughing away discussing the times of "I was 16 and hopelessly in love" , "I thought I will get married to him/her" etc. Matters like this, did not amuse me.

Evidently, I was listening to others and thinking of how lucky they were to have had the opportunity to walk away from someone knowing that hearts were broken and pictures (mental + glossy ones) were burnt. I unfortunately, had never got an opportunity to be the "dumper".

A friend randomly said- Ishi you know in a pack of cards, there are two jokers allowed and once they are exhausted there are just real cards to play with. THIS VERY STATEMENT HAS TAKEN OVER ME.

And so it all began; the thinking process -I changed two schools to finally get to the one I loved, I had to change my Engineering major twice to be a Medical systems engineer that I am today, I ditched two short jobs to get to the one I am loving currently, I even changed my college institution twice to get to Sheffield, two residences to get to West One 403 and on and on and on...

Slowly, this outrage started transcending to the very minute things I did. An example being: checking anything twice before I could believe it, even party invites so ye.

Upon discussing it with someone, his immediate reaction was obviously an explosive laughter - a calm pause followed by a plea to not try skydiving / bungee jumping or marriage for that matter. C'mon who wants to go through it twice to realise it was the third time when things got real.

It made me think, there are people for whom everything just flows smooth. Fancy English medium schools to expensive Universities to dream jobs; its just the obvious demand but for someone like me it was always a staircase that led upwards to something I wanted. Yes the struggle is more , but I certainly think the climb is worth it.

ye ye , I know Grapes are sour. Of course I would want to be the former category but I developed the love to see the suspense at the end of my staircase.

I would walk into a store with just this hope that I find my size, a shoe shop with something I would like, an online exhibit with something I had in my mind, ice cream store hoping for the kiwi flavour, nail bar with the colour I fancy, etc.

The expectation made it so exciting. The wait if I could not get what I wanted ; even more exciting. The alternate plans: epic.

It was like waiting for the jokers to end and real stuff to play with (sometimes literally, wink)

From Blahniks to Oshos: Manipal

Dreaming of Blahniks since 16, I saw myself stepping into Oshos and hitting the very edge of Karnataka, the place where population under 17 was unheard of.

Direct flights were a luxury non-existent to Delhi-ites, the Mangalore airport: a suicidal risk and bus journeys from Bangalore:a revenge from the Ghats.

Not left with much choice, I sat in the white ambassador overlooking the MIT banner advertisement at the Mangalore airport. The anna (analogous to bhaiya of Delhi) looked at me and said: "First time?" sounding absolutely inconsiderate of the tears in my eyes. After about 30 minutes of awkwardness, he turned back again giving me the goosebumps by completely ignoring the head-on traffic on that undivided carriage way and asked: "Valley view?" I shrugged and said Yes.

Entered Manipal, which was exactly a 15 minute strip off the motor way, I arrived at the hotel I was booked in, Valley view indeed. Neat white building housing the ITC trainees, much to my surprise just stood out from the rest of the town. The porter managed to tell me in just about 5 minutes of my arrival how the building used to be a student accommodation for rich spoilt children coming from Delhi who took infinite years to finish their bachelor's in Medicine. I feel it had something to do with my innumerable bags or maybe just my passport which said New Delhi.

Nevertheless, I loved my room overlooking a few buildings which I had no clue were about then ( later I discovered was the emergency ward of KMC). I freshened up and headed down to look for my building and fellow college mates who had also arrived for the Orientation weekend.

The autos were 'THE' thing there. These very fancy accent flaunting men would drive you around like they bought the rights to the road yesterday. Drove me to Manipal Stores, the auto driver waited anxiously as I ticked everything on my bare necessities list and in no time the owner of the shop started publicising about some bar/club he owned to owning every hookah flavour in the market. Honestly at that juncture in my life, the LEAST I cared about was dancing at a club or smoking sheesha with the auto-walas (since those were the only people I had met till then).

Roaming about in the MIT Campus, I was yet to discover the existence of my college, the International Centre for Applied Sciences. Asked a few people who looked at me as if I had asked for the directions to the Arctic Circle. So my college was two floors big in a glass facade building with an official staff strength of 3, okay maybe 4.

The biggest fear that I was avoiding till now was discovering the hostel and my roommate. I was expecting an old tattered building and tiny cubicle rooms with vamp looking wardens who cane you if you are late or absent. It was exactly the opposite.

A big space equally divided into two with plenty of light seeping through the wide windows gave me a reassuring satisfaction.

True to what people say, Once in Manipal, you build your own little world, I fell in love with the intricate details of that place. From the ignorant auto annas refusing to converse in our country's mother tongue, hindi to bribing akkas with henna cones to stay out for just one extra day.

From the silence of the End point to the roaring seas at Malpe beach, from so the called oriental food at China valley to Manicures lasting however long you want at U-Like, from 70 rupees tequila shots to the most expensive meal for 200 rupees at Valley view, we build our own little world which had seam less boundaries.

First since March 2009

Got re-directed to my blog- space today.

Apparently been blogging since March 2009, I had nothing to read on my own space, not a trace. I am trying to recollect (very hard) when I got rid of it, which is leading me to questions like what did I write about when I was 20 years old? to the dead(-est) end "Why, why did I shred everything?"

Sitting on that sultry evening in one of the so called posh Shambhavi apartments in Manipal, I can remember very faintly working on my HP when a friend told me, "Hey do you know what hp stands for?" I gave the typical "Do I care about THAT when my laptop hangs every 10 seconds in the middle of my assignment , more importantly facebook-ing " look. But he was just not convinced.

I obviously gave in since of course opening Google would take ages.

He said "It stands for Hewlett Packard and you should know why"

Pause followed by several minutes of no acknowledgement as to why we were discussing that. I went back to working/socialising.

I saw his blog the same day, not entirely convinced by the need of it. But the fan following clearly was contrary to my thinking. I started reading very regularly ( I wish I had the liberty to post the link for it here) . It soon became a habit, more like a necessity. As the editor of my college magazine, I even tried to include his writings in the annual yearbook with little success.

Time just winked past and 2 years later sitting in cold Sheffield town, this time in an actually posh apartment , I was doing what every engineer of my grade was- Vigorously applying for jobs. I came across a Business Analyst opening at HP. To sound "know it all" in the application form, I decided to read a little about the company.

What took me by surprise was the story behind how the brand name: Hewlett Packard came up.

Started by two friends Bill Hewlett and David Packard, the name deciding ceremony was the trickiest one. Will it be hp or ph? Flipping a coin was decided to be the way to go. Packard won kept it Hewlett Packard. Selflessness at its peak.

That statement took me and put me on the same bed two years ago in Manipal and it hit me as to why I was asked about this in the first place.

Not in touch with people years later makes me feel that we love to have it our own way. I don't know where is he, who told me about this but has obviously left something to ponder about and the reason to start writing again. Selflessness at its peak ; I must say.