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 !