My World Is Flat!

Re: Matrimony

2008-12-30T14:24:00.009+05:30

Its a topic I've been giving a lot of thought to, lately.
Not so much matrimony in its general sense.
Rather, my own, or more accurately, the possibilities
in/of that route.
A number of reasons for my thinking about marriage.
My mom visited for a month-it made relatives and friends
there and here wonder if my wedding was the reason (not).

I turned 29 this month, and from some improbable,
hitherto unknown crevice, a clock has begun ticking.
No, not the biological one-
I am as intent now as I was half my life ago,
About not reproducing.
Much as I love kids, I don't feel the need to bring more into this world. Its not such a wonderful place, imo, and if the urge to be a mother overtakes me, there are plenty of children out there who need parents, who have been abandoned or orphaned.

Rather, it is a settle down tick-tock,
Urging me to ground myself and find an anchor.
I have been a nomad for all of my 20s,
Beginning the journey at 18, when I came away
for college.
Finding myself still searching, still unsure,
Very much without roots,
As I approach the milestone of 30,
Gives me pause.

I guess somewhere along the way,
In childhood and later,
I absorbed that cultural/societal notion,
That one should be settled by 30,
Whatever "settled" means.
When I was younger I had not the slightest interest
in marrying.
In the last three or so years its become more
of a possibility,
Rather than the immediate rejection it brought to mind.
But I am also beginning to realize that
I never really expected to still be single at 29 going on 30.
I should rephrase that-not single as in unmarried,
But rather single as in without a significant other.

I am also owning up to the fact that the past few months,
I have completely stagnated.
Drawing out my current life
For no good reason,
Other than ennui and unwillingness to take the next step.
That next step being unknown or at the very least,
Risky and filled with hurdles, has not helped
my indecision.

So, when my mother brought up someone as a prospect for me,
It was both a shock and an almost welcome intrusion.
A shock 'cause I never thought my family would try to set me up.
Not really.
Yet welcome because this would solve some of my quandaries.
I would not have to figure out that scary next step.
No more wondering about where to go, what to do.
PhD? Job? India? US? Australia?
No, those decisions would be made.
I'd gain stability,
And the ability to remain exactly where I am now.
A place I love, and where near and dear ones live.

However, the truth is that this is just talk.
Between the "elders," as it were.
There is nothing to indicate that either this man or I,
Have any interest in one another.
It could be nothing more than the fond wish of parents
and grandparents.
Lets face it,
I am not the kind of person who says sure lets do it.
I would want to get to know this person,
Find out if we are compatible,
And can work as a couple.
I am not mercenary enough to enter into marriage
To solve my dilemmas or just to find a rock.

But the very fact that I am so open to traveling
this route,
Shows me how much I have changed,
And also that I am tired.
Tired of continuously fighting to stay,
Having to defend and calculate each decision.
Tired of bearing the weight on my broad shoulders.
Wishing for some companionship and warmth,
That I did not have to fight for,
Or generate through my own efforts.
What I need the most, it seems,
Is that someone in my corner.
And not just anyone,
But a mate, a life partner.

Whether I will find one,
Here, There, or Anywhere,
Is open ended.
The man my family wants me to consider.
The one from my past who demands consideration,
But cannot promise fulfillment.
Or perhaps a third and thus far unknown quantity?
Only time, patience, and continuing to tread,
One foot in front of the other,
Will likely tell.

Still, in the meanwhile,
So that I don't have unrealistic expectations,
Or set myself up for too much disappointment,
I am making my own map.
One that does not include marriage or men.

Write that thesis and graduate.
Take the year off from academia and working.
Travel and see the world,
Or at least parts of it.
I love to travel, I enjoy new places.
Yet I have done very little adventuring this century.
I have a little money,
Enough to take me a few good places and spaces.

Come on, I'm not quite 30!
If I don't do it now,
When again will I get the chance?
Life, work, things will get in the way.
Getting a year off is no easy task.
I don't have to save yet-I should spend what I have.
And learn and explore and travel.

So, thus, my idea is to bring in the big 3-0,
Someplace new, and hopefully wonderful.
Perhaps with old friends, maybe with new.
The adventure in it is appealing.
I know that I will be safe enough,
And make friends.
I am just unattractive enough,
Yet intelligent and witty enough,
To make an interesting companion,
Someone people will talk to,
But not feel the need to hit on.

So then, its a grand scheme,
Something to look forward to,
A goal for 2009.
Maybe crazy but quite doable,
A way out of my current inertia.

Inspiration: Asparagus

2008-09-09T14:49:00.007+05:30

A simple bundle of asparagus,
Bought because it was on sale.
And I did something I rarely do-
Cooked a couple meals for myself.

Those who know me well,
Will attest to the fact that I am an unwilling chef.
I don't really hate cooking,
And I am definitely not bad at it when I try my hand.
I don't love it though...
It is not to me a creative outlet like others I know.

Mostly, I just don't see the point in making all that effort,
And taking the trouble to prepare dinner for one.
Its easier, quicker, more efficient,
To exist on frozen dinners and takeout.
Than deal with the mound of dishes and clean-up,
Not to mention expended energy and thought,
That preparing a meal requires.

But I have been trying to eat home more often,
And not just by subsisting on ready to eat meals,
But occasionally making the effort to cook for myself.
So, a dinner of pasta with the asparagus worked out really well.

The sauce was an invention-based on the ingredients in my fridge,
And the vagaries of my taste buds.
Not spicy enough-okay, lets add some hot sauce.
Not quite the right texture-a spoonful of soy sauce.
And so on.
The lack of mushrooms in my pantry was sad,
But I made do, and my meal was excellent and satisfying.

Simple as such. But it took time to make.
There were veggies to chop.
Dishes/utensils/implements to wash.
But I actually did derive some pleasure from the process,
And I don't mean just the eating.
A sense of satisfaction and achievement lingered,
Long after I had made and consumed my meal.
I surely will not do it every night.
But I will no longer scoff at those who extol the virtues of cooking either!

Bewitched, Bothered, Bewildered

2008-09-09T12:59:00.011+05:30

Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered Am I.
An old standard, a song covered by numerous great singers over the years.
A song that has been running through my head, the last couple months.
Countless other songs apply-a lot of Abba, especially given my repeated watching of the new movie Mamma Mia!
Pierce Brosnan and Meryl Streep in "Winner Takes it All"
Reduced me to tears.
Each element separately was powerful enough...
That song has always been a tear-jerker;
Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan epitomize the one major love affair of my life to date.
(I never imagined that my favorite actor and one of the greatest actresses of my time would essay roles that I see as close to my reality!
But hey, not a bad way to go, surely).

I have been spiraling into a situation I have no right to.
But this is the one person I could never deny.
To be told I am "the one" is gratifying.
Still, there are soo many complications:
Taboos, Entanglements, Emotions, Worries...
That I am more than a little scared of where its going,
Not to mention how its going to turn out.

It has a feeling of inevitability--years in the making,
And with more years ahead before it may come to fruition, if at all.
Despite conflicting emotions and partial guilt,
I am not able/willing/capable of shutting the door.
Instead, I am just taking things as they come...
And praying really hard that I don't get hurt (once again).

PS: Too late for that-I have been hurt once again, because I fell for the BS once again.
But the same feeling of inevitability that came along with the rekindling of the relationship,
Tags along at this most recent demise of it. That too, has not changed. Just like the man,
Has not, Will not, Can Not.

Starbucks Sellout

2008-08-04T12:23:00.005+05:30

That is what I am, sadly.
I, who don't drink coffee (really intense, unpleasant smell and taste),
Who for years mocked the conglomerate corporation.
Over-priced, mediocre stuff, I would sniff impatiently.
Their super-pretentious names for drinks, and their grandiose and confusing sizes.
"Tall, Grande, Venti" - Huh??!!
Made me roll my eyes n mock some more.
Don't like their hot chocolate, their coffees obviously hold no appeal.

Given their proliferation, especially here in California,
I suppose it was inevitable that I would eventually fold.
There are three different Starbucks on campus alone!
So, sure it began with my getting the occasional Tazo tea there,
Or a half-price sandwich in the last hour of their being open,
As I am on break from one of my three hour long night classes.
Then, it slowly escalated.

Last winter, I got a $25 Starbucks giftcard for Xmas.
So I found myself slowly using it up, buying a box of tea, a chocolate cupcake.
On a cold (ish) day-this is Southern California, after all!
I would get their Hot Caramel Apple Spice-just the ticket.
Then a friend recently introduced me to the joys
Of Starbucks' Chai Lattes.
Uh-oh!
Not a fan of them hot, but pour it on ice, and I'm in heaven.
A caffeine and sugar laced high...a sensory pleasure for my taste buds,
And just what I need as a pick-me-up on a hot and/or sluggish-brain day.

On vacation last week, I finally realized-I no longer am a casual Starbucks-er.
I have now ventured into the land of the addicted!
Okay-so the itch is not that bad-I don't need daily hookups or, god forbid, multiple daily iced chai lattes.
Yet, at least a couple (okay, so its more like three) times a week,
I now find myself giving in to the hankering.
Not just getting one as I walk past a Starbucks (that is auto-suggestion, after all).
But actually going in search of the nearest Starbucks,
Like starting my afternoon visitation of old haunts in Longmeadow at the Longmeadow Shops Starbucks.
And worst of all--ah its painful to even admit.
I have the language down pat.

No more staring in puzzlement at the board,
Squinting myopically as I attempted to find a non-coffee laced drink,
When I was feeling more adventurous than just ordering Earl Grey Tea (my standard).

On Saturday,
As I waited for my glasses to get fixed in La Jolla,
The craving for an Iced Chai hit, and off I went,
To the Vons Supermarket, knowing that would be the closest Starbucks spot.
I circled the lot three times
Until I finally managed to grab a spot as someone pulled out.
Walking confidently up to the Starbucks counter, without even a moment's hesitation,
I asked for my fix: "Grande Iced Chai Latte, Light Ice, please."
And that, gals 'n' boys,
Was when I realized that I was a Starbucks Sellout!

PS: Dammit, and now I want one-no, its midnight and I am NOT giving in. But tomorrow is, as they say, another day ;-)

Of Fears and the Future

2008-06-20T03:28:00.019+05:30

I am feeling off balance, the last couple days.
There are a number of reasons, I know this.
For one, I anxiously await my thesis chair's response.
I hope she agrees-I really want to work on the topic I chose.
Yet I know that once she gives me her approval,
I have two months to get things done.
I thought I had until November, but she wants it done by September.
A very tall order, but something I need to do.
So there is the fear of failing, not getting it done on time, etc.

This will signify the end of a journey as well.
That is part of the angst...
My MA will be complete. Thesis done, I will be ready to graduate in December.
What comes after is both exciting and really scary.
I will have to leave the cocoon I have made for myself here.
I will have to go back to my home country.
A place I have not lived in since I was 17,
Nor visited in 7 years.

I am told a lot has changed, that I will be pleasantly surprised.
That opportunities abound for someone like me.
Yet I distinctly remember how much I wanted to leave.
I never felt like I fit it, I was always an oddity.
Now, after eleven plus years away, how can I possibly hope to assimilate?
I have gotten used to my independence, my privacy, my invisibility.
All things I will lose the moment I am back on home turf.

Coming to college in a new country was an adventure at 18.
Returning to my homeland at 29 feels less so.
I know I cannot live with my parents long-term.
I will need to find a place to live, a job, re-introduce myself socially.
I know I will have the support of my parents and friends.
Yet, at the end of the day it will be my burden to bear.
My issues and culture shock that no one else will quite get.
My appearance, mannerisms, language, viewpoint...
Will all place me as the "other,"
More so than when I was growing up and lived there.
The eleven years away will have increased, not decreased, my alien-ness.

My parents are middle-aged now, and I want to be nearer them.
It doesn't feel right that I have not seen them in four years.
Yet I know we will drive each other crazy.
That I will become a snarling, emotional, bitchy mess around them.
But I also need to see them, be closer to them.

Mentally, I had been placating myself with the idea that it will be a vacation.
Six months of hanging out with friends, traveling around the country, being free,
Of responsibility and real worries. A break such as I have not had in...11 years!
I figured I would drag my best friend around with me...come to Singapore, come to Rajasthan, lets play and catch up, I would say, and she would agree, the only one of my acquaintance with the ability, or indeed the only person I could imagine,
As companion for such adventures.

Yet her announcement that she is getting married,
Made me realize that it is a foolish, unrealistic dream I am harboring.
She is a dear, but she will no longer be fancy-free,
a willing fellow adventurer for madcap schemes.
She will, rather, be someone's wife. He will have priority for her, as well he should!

And worst of all-she will get married and I won't be there...
in all the years away,
despite all the events and weddings I have missed,
Hers is the one that I always expected to be there for.
It never occurred to me that I would not be able.
The only one at which my absence will hurt me deeply.
The other times, it felt like I was missing out on fun and memories.
This time, its like forgoing a part of my life.
After all, she is the sister I never had.

I am excited and thrilled that she has found that person-the one she cannot live without, 'cause as we always said: marry someone because you cannot live without him, not because you can live with him.
In the years since I last saw her, she has matured and grown into a woman I admire and adore.
She surprises me with her depth and strength,
Of mind and character.
I want her to have every happiness, she deserves nothing less.
She has lived a charmed life, one I hope lasts always.

I can only hope that some day I will be similarly lucky,
Will find someone with whom I will want to share my life.
Not sure it will happen-the older I get the more I realize
That perhaps that is not the destination for me.
I have become a hermit of sorts, not dabbling in love/romance.
Prior experiences have made me wary-I have been hurt too many times.
But I will continue to hold on to hope.
After all, I consider myself an optimist...

I'll plan for things going right in the next year,
On my not failing.
I will get my thesis done.
I will find my place in my birth country.
I will be able to get acceptance to a Phd program I want.
I will get a visa to come back here.
And finally, everything will work out.
I believe, I believe...
In the power of positive thinking.
I better, or else I may never recover
From the despair and fears,
Of loneliness, failure, unhappiness...

Great Expectations?

2008-05-06T02:38:00.002+05:30

I learned very early in life not to expect what I am trying to get - but only hope to get it, and do everything in my power to do so. Unfortunately, I have not been able to apply the same principle to my relationships. The first time around, I expected nothing, but made the mistake of not trying to get what I wanted either, and ended up giving a lot more than I got. It was passive acceptance, and I was grateful for every little joy. Not a bad thing in itself, until you realise that not trying to get what you want just makes the other person take you for granted. Not to mention that *just giving* is emotionally draining.

In the last one it was kind of the opposite - I expected a lot, yet did nothing to try and get it. Nor did I give anything I wasn't getting. I wouldn't say I was the only one with expectations in the relationship, or even the one with more expectations. But it doesn't matter. The point is, to get something you have to give something first, and I failed to do that.

Now, I know this is sounding contradictory. But it's not. All I'm saying is - give your best, but don't expect anything in return; try getting what you want, but don't expect it. And when you do get it, appreciate it. What you do when you don't depends on how critical it is to your happiness. And this is where the lack of expectation becomes most important - because when you expect too much, even getting more than enough can look like way too little.

Thank you M. Snail

2008-04-17T01:32:00.000+05:30

Each week, on hump day, otherwise known as Wednesday,
I have a babysitting gig.
I endeavor to entertain a three year old while his mother is in class.
I love kids, I am a good babysitter, and I know this little one quite well (I have been watching him since soon after his first birthday).
Yet, attempting to keep him entertained, not screaming or being disruptive,
And often having to run behind him ad nauseum make me dread Wednesday evenings.
Its not easy, babysitting on campus, rain or shine, light or dark.
The end of daylight savings certainly helped save my sanity.
But today, I had help from a most unexpected quarter.
A little snail, minding its own business, curled into its shell.
My ever observant charge noticed the creature on the stairs.
What was potentially a few minutes entertainment turned into an hour and a half of pleasurable encounter with Monsieur/Madame Escargot.
Good thing I am not squeamish, and have my own inner child fueled fascination with snails.
I was happy to pick the reclusive creature off the corner of the steps
Where it had attached itself,
And place it gently in a place where the tyke and I could prod it into action,
Observe its captivating coiling and uncoiling of itself from its shell,
Tiny wispy tentacles poking out first, followed by the rest of its head,
And finally, its thick tail.
My little buddy and I both enjoyed the show, and if I had not finally
taken mercy on the creature and let it makes its unhurried way into the
bushes without further interruption, I think the amusement would have
lasted longer still.
So once again,
Thank you Mr./Ms. Snail for coming to this stressed babysitter's rescue...

Music, Memories, Melancholy

2008-02-27T05:19:00.009+05:30

I have spent the better part of the last two hours online.
Not doing anything terribly useful.
But rather, YouTube has provided me
With songs and sights
From old Hindi movies.
"Classics" most of them get called.
I don't quite know what it is about hearing those old songs and seeing
the picturizations, that is making me so sad.
I definitely go through bouts of missing my homeland.
And frivolous as it sounds, my strongest ties seem to come to the surface via music.
Especially the songs from Bollywood movies of the 1950s and 1960s.
I am twenty eight years old-these songs are waaay before my time.
But they are the ones that reel me in.
Mukesh, Kishore, Rafi, Lata, Geeta Dutt, Shamshad Begam...
Those are the voices that stay in my head..
Those songs are unbeatable and haunting.
Some happy and playful, others sad.
One and all bring tears to my eyes.
Seeing Dev Anand chasing Shakila or chastising Sadhana in a song,
Watching Nargis and Raj Kapoor.
Johnny Walker even.
Many others, unknown or forgotten now.
They all make me cry.
And I wonder why?
Is it because they are just that strong link to my childhood?
Songs heard in the background when my mother played them?
Or memories of movies she and I saw?
And we saw some really obscure ones, I'll admit!
Those times spent in movie watching and song listening/singing,
Are some of my fondest memories.
Maybe its just hearing those melodies and voices?
Those lyrics full of dard (hurt is the literal translation, but it does not come across in English) or of such intense romanticism (there is no way to explain it in English-they would just be corny).
Having gone through the songs from movies like CID, Asli Naqli, Aag.
One particular song, Chandan Sa Badan, from Saraswati Chandra has
particular meaning for me.
I do expect to feel a pang and maybe even cry when I hear it.
It has the most amazing lyrics, and is sexy and suggestive in a way
that should be admired for a song so old and in a time of strong censorship.
Things are merely alluded to, as with many other songs from that era.
But its the fact that someone once told me that was the song he thought of me with,
That makes me sad when I listen to it now.
"Tun bhi sundar, Mun bhi sundar,"
"Tu sundarita ki muurath hai."
Wow, that I was ever thus elevated!
I guess my love and emotionality regarding the oldies also has to do with my own (very hidden) romantic streak.
I know love is not like the movies, and definitely not like these old Hindi songs.
But those lyrics still get me.
If someone felt about me the way those songs say, I think I'd die happy.
But I know its unlikely and highly implausible.
And perhaps, that, is why I cry...

From Excitement to Disappointment

2007-12-05T13:16:00.000+05:30

I tend to get excited when I meet someone interesting. Male or female, no matter.
Someone who I am impressed by and whose intellect and conversation are both scintillating and enervating to me.

Yet oftentimes, one is disappointed and early impressions fall on the wayside.
This happened to me recently, forcefully reminding me that it is not the first time either. Its something I have had play out over the years. Apparently, despite the experience, I am always pleasantly surprised and promptly forgetful of previous disappointments. I am glad of it, for I know I am jaded in many ways. So its nice to know that I have hope and can be optimistic at times!

This feeling is of course especially true when I come across a man I find intelligent, interesting, a good conversationalist, sharing interests and ideas similar to my own. Someone I am attracted to on a level that has nothing to do with looks or sex appeal or even flirtation. That truly is an exciting and rare occurrence! Perhaps my standards are high. Perhaps I am difficult to please and have unrealistic expectations. I think not, but perhaps it is so.

But it is not totally hopeless. I have met guys who managed to wow me. I remember now the handful or so times it has happened in the last five years. And honestly, the single time it has happened in the recent past. And when this most recent man fell from grace, I recalled some of the criteria I had for establishing previous winners, as it were. I realize yet again, how important it is to observe someone with their friends and to view their actions and interactions with the world in general.

To see how they behave and interact with older and younger people; those they perceive their equals, subordinates, or superiors; whether they are comfortable with those outside their own race/ethnicity, and whether those factors at all color their interactions. Do they become someone different when it is a fellow countryman versus an "other?" Do they begin to show signs of needing to impress the other, use cool language, be uppity? Can they handle being challenged when around their male counterparts? Do they treat waiters and service staff courteously and well? Do they seem comfortable in new situations or places where they are in the minority? A lot of questions, not all of which have to be answered satisfactorily, or even answered at all! But certainly a combination of such factors play. At least for me they do.

I will never forget how this man I know, on meeting my landlord who had just lost his mother, went up to him, shook his hand and offered his condolences. This, on their second, very casual meeting. It touched me deeply, and made me respect and admire my friend all the more. Or another man, who despite being the newbie and only outsider in our group, totally fit in and was able to make himself comfortable and behave appropriately with all. Me the potential girlfriend, my friends, my bosses, my professors...one and all, he made a good impression. One that lingered in me as well. I mention these now not because I am with either of these men, or even that they are paragons of greatness and etiquette.

I talk of things past in relation to the recent such man I met. First meeting, I thought him intelligent and witty and a mature individual. Second meeting confirmed it and some exchanged wordplay increased my appreciation. I almost felt a crush coming on, come to think of it. Third meeting-I was no longer so sure. I saw the show-off side, the competitive, narcissistic, oneupmanship side. A side I didn't particularly care for. The fourth meeting increased my discomfort. And then on our fifth meeting, I saw an aspect that turned me off. A cool dude, played for the "other." Not to mention a caveman response where I was expecting discussion. Disappointing, to say the least.

But then, a necessary reminder. A reminder about my own tendency to be eagerly pleased and awed by someone with intellectual capability and apparent likemindedness. A lesson worthy of repetition and relearning. I AM decided in my likes and wants. They are not about looks or age or whatever. They are, rather, about the intricacies and little things that can make or mar someone in my book. A book no one cares about but me, but hey its my book and I get to fill the pages any way I want, or more accurately, need. I live in my head a lot, and my brain generally beats out my heart. This too has played out in years and relationships of yore. So I will again remind myself of the importance of watching a man in action and seeing how he does in my eyes. Perhaps this is why I am single?! If it is, rather so than with someone who doesn't have it, even if the "it" is only in my head...

2007-11-23T08:55:00.001+05:30

Is Prime Time Television A Lost Cause?

I love my television shows. I tend not to think of the tv as the idiot box, nor do I call my viewing habit a guilty pleasure. Yet, I am well aware that what is on offer, especially on a college student budget of non-cable, is well, not great. However, there are shows that give me hope. Hope for prime time television on the big three (ABC, NBC, CBS).

Desperate Housewives, which I cannot help watching, has gone down a bizarre path. Grey’s Anatomy, once favorite, has also gone from witty and sexy to plain painful. Sure, we still get gems like on a recent episode where a new female surgeon rechristens the two hunks known as McDreamy and McSteamy into “pretty and prettier.” Sadly, its one of few from what started out as a self-aware, sarcastic, and groundbreaking show. Instead we are given weekly sexcapades.

Grey's sister show, spinoff Private Practice shows us how the pretty people in LA live. It does manage to tug at the ocassional emotional heartstring, while we watch the successful, beautiful doctors at the practice deal with work and love. But seriously, I am supposed to feel sorry for these guys n gals? I don't think so! Still I keep watching, and the last few weeks have produced some familiar faces as guest stars. Two beloved Gilmore Girls faces (Lane and Christopher) showed up. Will Lorelai or Rory be next? Not likely but I can hope! I miss my Gilmore Girls fix. Its departure at the end of last season means I don't have a reason to watch the CW anymore. I mean I watch Smallville once in a while, but its not one of *my* shows. And not being able to afford the cost of cable and thus without the comfort of ABC Family, I don't get my daily dose of a Gilmore Girls rerun. Sad.

One of the most highly hyped shows of the current season, Pushing Daisies, has me watching and coming back for more each week in a sort of deer caught in the headlights stupor. I am not sure why its getting the attention and rave reviews it has thus far garnered. Lemony Snicket for television; cutesy rather than cute. Worse still, CBS’s Cane registers nothing more than a sigh and “why??!!” from me.

Yet, there are moments of hope and glory. For one, despite its weirdness and hyperactivity, Boston Legal still does it for me: James Spader as Alan Shore and the rhetoric he delivers. The show readily dishes up weekly discussions on current political issues that need to be in the spotlight. Brothers and Sisters in its second season now, has become a pure joy to watch. It simultaneously addresses drug addiction, new baby woes, women’s body issues, being gay, the battle between motherhood/family and working, single parenting, abortion/unwed mothers as well as the war in Iraq in a manner that evokes laughter and creates good drama, while still being realistic, respectful, and consequential. It certainly has my vote for best of season.

Television is dead, long live television…

Lucky

2007-10-25T04:36:00.000+05:30

Watching the fire burning fierce and bright from my bedroom window, I am absurdly reminded of a childhood rhyme and game: "Fire on the mountain, run, run, run."
Indeed, run is what I feel I should be prepared to do. After all, its 2am and I can see freakish flames, pink and orange, lapping at the top of the mountain just miles away. I should panic and be scared, I know. But somehow that is not what I feel.

After an all night vigil, which consisted of keeping my eyes on the flames, first engorged and then diminishing slowly, as well as keeping my ear trained for the sound of the telephone, bringing with it that call to evacuate (which never came, lucky for us), I finally headed to bed at 5am. I had been mentally and physically prepared, important papers, precious things, and basic necessities at hand in case I did have to get in my car and flee. The call did not come, I am still able to watch and feel for those not so lucky, keeping tabs from my computer and on my television set, rather than being outside my comfort zone, home, life. I truly am one of the lucky people.

And I do appreciate how lucky we are. I also am amazed at how calm I was, and all the little things I thought of. And, truth be told, I also learned something new about myself: what it is I find and feel are important, and what I think about in a looming crisis. And last but not least, I am appreciative of the calls from friends telling me to get out, come to their place, just advising me of the situation. In a moment like that, one finds out who cares about you and thinks of you when disaster is impending. Not the hail fellow well met sort of friends, but the I want you to be safe and I am calling because I care friends. I am lucky in them too...

Love

2007-10-07T14:47:00.000+05:30

I was in love, once.
Sometimes I worry,
That it was a one time deal.
Those feelings, that intensity,
Burned bright and swift.
And will never come again.

Perhaps to expect such depth of emotion
To occur again is asking too much.
I did not want to be in love,
Indeed I did not really think it a worthwhile investment,
Of my time or energy.
I felt it was hormones raging rather than sense prevailing.
Yet it happened and I could not ignore it.
Heart won out over head, despite every attempt.

The man I professed those feelings for?
Definitely not the wise or best or even safe choice.
In no way was it a good idea.
But I was sucked in,
And its taken many years to get out.
Though perhaps never to fully recover.

So do I want that again?
Yes, and No!
I don't see how that passion can be recreated.
How those bonds can be made with another, different man.
Yet-if I believe he was "the one".
Then I am dooming myself.

I have dated, been with, met, men since him.
Who had some of the qualities,
But never that strange combination that
Drove us together and finally, apart.

I have met much smarter and more intelligent men,
Whose intellect has wowed me.
I have met handsomer men,
Whose beauty has dazzled me.
But I have never met one who
Evoked in me, what he did.

I want connection and love, sure.
A partner, an equal, a lover, a friend.
Above all-an intelligent man,
Where earlier I wanted a smart, funny, sexy,
goodlooking, loving, kind, considerate,
etc etc etc etc etc superman!
Perhaps that is where it is different.
My wants now are less extravagant and airy.
More mundane and realistic.

Be my friend, treat me as an equal.
Let me be in awe of your mind and thoughts.
And let me argue and curse and disagree.
But most of all: I want to feel comfortable.
Be comfortable, not in a rush to fill the empty silences.
Rather, to enjoy and lengthen them,
To appreciate just having you around.

I see friends, alone and lonely and wanting more.
I see friends, with a partner they have and yet, don't.
I see friends, happily married, content, smiling.
I see friends, making do and putting up with things,
Rather than face being alone.

Five years with the same man, and she won't broach
the topic of marriage for fear of upsetting him.
Does not seem to think she should,
Because she deserves it.
Not because of expectations or making others happy,
But purely because,
It is her own deepest desire and wish.
Instead, she makes excuses for him,
Tells herself, and me, and everyone else,
She is happy with the status quo.
For rocking the boat would be unthinkable,
She might end up-alone.
Five years of married life, for another.
Its been an uphill battle all the way.
I admire her resilience and ability to sacrifice.
To stick to the plan and scheme, happy or not.

Then I think of myself.
Alone? Yes!
Lonely? Not really!
Happy and content? Reasonably so!
Pining for a man or marriage? No!
Society, family, convention,
All demand I settle down.
Yet, I demur.

Sure I see happy marriages and lives.
But I also see the difficulties.
So while the odd moment of being single,
Not having a dance partner when the music starts,
Or a definite dinner date Friday night,
Might cause me a pang.
In the larger scheme of things.
I am good with it.
Really.

Its nice to do things my way, in my own time.
Its also nice to keep hope alive,
That just around some not so distant corner,
Is a new someone who will make
My silences companionable,
And spellbind me with his intellect.
Until that day comes,
I am happy.
And even if it doesn't,
I still will be complete.

The Ring Phenomenon

2007-07-17T19:22:00.000+05:30

Every parent has but one dream when they have a baby - grandbabies. As soon as they see the face of their little one, they start imagining even littler (miniature, really) versions of the same. Well, OK, I guess that's simplifying it a leetel, but come on - at the end of the day they all want grandbabies! It's not enough that they themselves ensured the continuation of their gene pool - they want to make sure that it lasts at least another, if not two more, generations - and believe me, they'd take care of all the coming generations if they could just hang around that long! So it's really very, very understandable when they start their endless refrain of When will you get married?

But what puzzles me is the Ring Phenomenon - that's when anyone with a ring on their finger asks you the exact same question. Now, obviously, they don't want you to help them continue their gene pool (one would hope!), so their sudden interest is rather mystifying. For some strange reason, the moment someone gets a ring on their finger, all that comes out of their mouths when they see you sounds something like this:

So, any news? *big meaningful smile*

or

Hi, what's up? When are you inviting me? *wink wink*

I have never actually tried taking off any of their rings to see if it would widen their area of interest - but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with it. Probably it's the hypnotising effect of the diamond - just imagine having something shining at you all the time, day in, day out, reminding you of your new found status. Naturally, when you have a constant reminder like that on your finger, it's hard to think about anything else. The question is, are they trying to spread the joy - or the misery? *wink wink*

Not Today

2007-06-05T20:58:00.000+05:30

Toby,

yesterday you asked me why I went out with you. Well, here are some of the reasons why:

It wasn't because of your money. It was because you work hard for it even though you don't have to. Because of the drive and ambition and the focus you have shown in getting what you want. Because of the persistence and dedication you have shown in making things work.

It wasn't because of the places you took me to when we went out to eat. It was because you got those burgers for me at 5 in the afternoon, even before I told you that I hadn't eaten all day. Because you stood in the heat to buy us kebabs and told me to wait in the car, even though I know you hate it. Because you ate standing, so I could sit.

It wasn't because we went on drives. It was because in today's day and age you felt bad about jumping a red light. Because you'd take me even when you didn't feel like driving, just to be with me a little longer. Because you drove me to my new place and carried my stuff even though you were so tired.

It wasn't because you brought me such beautiful roses. It was because you remembered to bring me a packet so I wouldn't have trouble taking them past the landlady when going home.

It wasn't because of your body. It was because of the way your hands held my face when you kissed me. Because of the way you put your arms around me and wouldn't let go. Because you used your body to protect me, even if all you were protecting me from was beer.

And it wasn't because of your good looks. It was because of the look I saw in your eyes when you were with me.

Yesterday you asked me if I wanted to marry you, and I said no. And you said you'd got your answer. And you were right, you did. But darling, you got the question wrong. What you should have asked is, whether I wanted to not marry you.

But that was yesterday.

Jacey

Love vs. Arranged

2007-05-03T20:34:00.000+05:30

It's funny when people discuss Love Marriage vs. Arranged.

It's like asking someone, if suicide is better or being murdered.

I just read this on the company intranet... and while I found it hilarious initially, it's ringing truer by the minute. I have always been against arranged marriages. They creep me out. Oh, if you want to have one, please go ahead, I just mean, for me. I think I told my dad when I was ten that it's going to be love all the way. Little did I know the trouble that would land me in. Broken relationships, broken hearts, confused minds... of course there were also magical moments... the first kiss, the first touch, the walk on the beach, the look in his eyes... but practically speaking, having an arranged marriage seems so much easier... just check looks, maybe health, and bank balance... and if your first two conversations go well... voila, there you are! Of course, I have heard lots of woeful tales from friends who chose to take that route to marital bliss... so i'm guessing it's pretty even on both sides. Just that it's better on the side you are not on.

Don't get me wrong, arranged marriages still creep me out. I just wish it wasn't so hard to figure out who's the right guy... what am I supposed to look for?? Should it be difficult? Had that... felt like it was the real deal, that when you love someone, you gotta fight for it... against all odds... etc. etc.... well, the ending to that was, suitably, as difficult as its beginning. Decided then that easy is how it should be. Well, surprisingly that's what I got the next time, but (un)fortunately that ended as easily as it started. So now if I am faced with hard, should I run? Or should I run when it's too easy? If you have to work at it does it mean more? Do you take things for granted if it's easy? What am i supposed to look for??!!

Oh don't worry, I'm just going through a phase. The best solution is probably to avoid both suicide and murder, and just... live... in peace... and solitude

But seriously, if you just stop looking for means of dying, you'll find that there's so much more to living... so much more to do, that you just don't have the time for when you are dead

And who knows, you just might be surprised by a pleasant death when you least expect it.

P.S. Sorry for sounding so morbid. But you gotta love the metaphor.

P.P.S. Nobody, please nobody, show this to my dad. Thank you.

Update - 2 weeks later
I got my answer. Easy is how it should be. Of course, no relationship is ever that easy. But if it's too hard, well, then it's just not worth it.

"I Love You Too"

2007-04-22T10:50:00.000+05:30

I love you too...
That has got to be one of the most overused
phrases I hear!
I mean, just now, my roommate got a call-
He made some inconsequential, mundane conversation.
Lasted about 30 seconds, maybe.
Then came the all important: "I love you too"
Seriously?!
But in this instance it is not really his doing.
The too he tacked on to the phrase indicates that the person on the other end of the line used that hackneyed expression and he was just doing what is polite and expected-reciprocating!

The above is just one example, of course.
In this case the one that got me to stop being just irritated,
And inspired me instead to put these thoughts down on e-paper.
I hear it all the time, everywhere.
People tell their kids, their spouses, their parents, their friends,
their near and dear, and the not so near and dear:
"I love you"---"I love you too"
Seriously?
Are we that insecure? Are we so much in need of validation?
Its an unwritten law, a litany:
Say you love me, kiss me when you walk in, hug me before you leave.
I mean, how can you not-I won't see you for...lesse-wow, it might be as many as five or six hours or heaven forbid, maybe even 12!!

Don't get me wrong here.
I am not against private or even public displays of affection,
Nor do I have anything against saying I love you.
But to make it a requisite (and I am basing this off the aforementioned roommate(s), for whom it appears to be a war-cry!)
Is that really necessary?
To my way of thinking, it devalues the words, the sentiment behind them, and their efficacy too.
Like the boy who cried wolf.
Seriously-I love you should come from the heart when you feel the need to say it, not as an automatic way to end an interaction
Nor as a rote response of I love you too.

Its me I know.
I guess I just don't go in for the overly touchy-feely emotionality.
Really, I am not cold, I am not uncaring.
Ask those who know me and they will attest to the fact that I am a caring and passionate individual whose shoulder is always ready to be cried on and who can be counted on to listen and empathize, whatever the situation.
But overt emotion and empty phrases don't constitute love, caring, respect, or have any value in my book.
So yeah, for me, "I love you too" is devaluing each minute of every day,
as yet another thoughtless, saccharine, automated use of it falls in my earshot!

Understanding(,) Religion & Cults

2007-04-02T21:32:00.000+05:30

Yesterday I attended a class on Bhagavad Gita. It did not cover all of it, just a few verses - I had missed the earlier sessions. And will probably miss the remaining ones. Not because I did not like what was said. What was said made sense. But perhaps because of the way it was said. There was no to and fro, no questioning, no encouragement to think, to debate. I may be wrong, but then I want to be told why. I may not understand, but then I want to try. I don't like being told that 1 + 1 = 2 even if it is true. Or rather, I don't like accepting it blindly. I like to take one apple and one banana and realise that I now have a total of two fruits. I like to hold up one finger on each hand and realise there are now 2 fingers being held up. I like to understand what addition is all about - and I like to be able to question the teacher until I do. Not because I doubt the teacher. But then, the teacher may just happen to be wrong.

More so when it is a question of religious scripture, of philosphy. The Guruji who conducted the class was speaking from a purely advaitic point of view. Which suited me perfectly, because if I believe anything in Hinduism it is the advaitic concept. But the fact is, there is an equally valid dvaitic school of thought as well. The same scriptures that were explained from an advaitic angle will definitely have another explanation from a dvaitic angle - even if the difference does not seem huge - even if it is a just a minor difference - it is still a difference. So then, why should I not be able to question? If I can question mathematics, a subject where there is no scope for interpretation, why not religious philosphy?

But you know what, that is not what bothered me the most. There were two things that bothered me more than the above - after all, one-sided classes are nothing new to someone schooled in India. The first thing that bothered me extremely was that, when the whole congregation chanted mantras at the start of class, before the Guruji had come to the podium, it reminded me of a cult gathering. Believe me, I adore listening to mantras. And it is not as though they were sounding horrible. But this was the first time I have been surrounded by people chanting. No, I am not saying I attended a cult meeting. But it made me think about what a cult really is. I mean, what is a cult? Isn't it the same as a religious gathering? Except that the leader is considered insane and/or a bad influence by most of society? But then, who decides? I liked this Guruji. I am not expecting him to slip subliminal messages of evil into his lectures. But then, then, then... who decides? Do I? Maybe it is in this context that questioning becomes important. You need to be able to question. You need to be allowed to think differently, of alternatives, debate, discuss, anything, to keep your mind alive, alert, so you can discern between truth and falsehood when it is presented to you. Even if you don't quite know what the truth is, yet.

The second thing that really bothered me was seeing people prostrate themselves in front of the Guruji. Seeing them bow before him touching their head to the ground. Ironically, seeing this, made me think of Islam - the aversion Muslims have to bowing to anyone other than God. I have no problem touching the Guruji's feet, and I did. It is the traditional way to show respect and seek blessings. And as far as I could see, he deserves to be respected. But prostrating? Bowing? I have seen people do that when doing puja. But to another human being? I wanted to ask him what he thinks of that. I didn't. Perhaps I will if I go again.

Twenty Years

2006-12-23T16:21:00.000+05:30

The ringing of the phone, early in the morning.
I glance at the blinking screen-I make a grab for it.
A chirpy, familiar voice on the other end-
Suddenly realizes I am not.
"I woke you-let me call you back later," she says.
"No-don't hang up!!" I exclaim, quickly reassuring her.
There is no one I would rather have waking me up,
So early in the a.m.

We chat, we giggle, we share stories, we philosophize,
From and about our respective lives.
We reminisce about school days, childhood, old times.
On the other end of that long distance line,
Is a person most dear to me.
Someone I have not seen in over five years.
Yet, the time and distance have little meaning for us.
The bond remains, as does the love.

Twenty years of friendship, twenty-four of shared history.
Nothing can alter or lessen that.
We started out bitter school yard rivals.
One thought the other a brainiac,
The other thought the first a wildcat.
Yet that old adage of opposites attracting-well, it happened.
Lives lived in close cohesion became those in different cities,
Different countries, now different continents.

A long conversation later, I lay back on the pillows,
Snuggle into my warm blanket.
Enjoy the feeling of those words.
Realize that nothing quite compares to it,
To having a friend of, and for, twenty years.
Not just a friend-the friend!

I have many other dear friends.
Spanning early childhood, teen years, college life.
But not another who can match the ties she and I share.
So here's to you, my dearest and oldest friend,
The sister I never had.
The one who remains in my heart,
Despite the thousands of miles that separate us.
And here's to the next twenty years...

Intellectual Freedom

2006-07-10T21:34:00.000+05:30

Came across this today:

A library being divided at the time of partition

I'm guessing the books made it safely across the border - true intellectuals, unshackled by the confines of religion - or its associated dangers.

I wonder on what basis they were divided, though...

Oh, Happy, Happy Day (err, Evening)!

2006-06-30T19:50:00.000+05:30

My flat world is happy again - I can access my blog from work! Being restricted to techie sites, and other useful stuff (I wanted to put quotes around "useful", but that would be blasphemy against my saviours), I hadn't even tried accessing my darling, if neglected, blog - at least not from my bay (I love saying that, it's like I'm on the Enterprise or something!) But by some strange and happy coincidence, I stumbled upon this little tidbit of information while killing time (as literally as it gets), and now I am, as I just told my colleague, finally home again! \:D/ So, my faithful few (readers), be prepared for another burst of fitful blogging!

P.S. I think fate conspired against me though - this just had to happen the day my workless days got over!! :(

P.P.S. I hope this isn't a freak accidental sysad mistake :-S

P.P.P.S. Freedom is so precious when someone else controls it - if that makes any sense! Oh, I know it does!

Nothing in Particluar

2006-05-28T20:14:00.000+05:30

I don't really know what to write about now, but I figured that a) given my propensity to not blog and this being a rare instance when I am actually in the flow and b) given that if I leave now, I only pay 5 bucks less than if I leave 17 minutes later, I might as well ramble on in the hopes of coming up with something at least remotely interesting.

Well, I guess I could write about my two orkut encounters of the third kind - the first being on orkut and the second on chat. Yes, I finally met two of my orkut buddies - Chennai seems to be so much better that way, or maybe it's just that I spend less time on the computer, but whatever the reason, I met up with two, two weeks in a row. It was quite interesting - for someone like me who always needs a social context (same school, workplace, whatever) to talk to people, orkut seems to have solved the problem by providing an ominpresent social context. Now I don't even have to meet people on orkut - just tell me you are on orkut, and I'll favour you with my attention. Or at least, so I think I will. I haven't actually had the chance to try that out yet. Come to think of it, if I don't talk to you outside of a social context, I guess I wouldn't get to know you are on orkut anyway. So, nah, I guess that one's not gonna work.

Well, that's enough rambling I suppose. I still have 6 minutes to preview and revise this post - maybe even delete it - as well as allow my hand to recover from the effects of using this malevolent, malfunctioning keyboard.

But hey, at 15 bucks an hour what more can I expect! :(

Btw, Google's adsense seems almost supernatural - after publishing my last post with the sad smiley, it immediately came up with the following ad:

End Depression Right Now
You can become happy today Effective
method - Instant results

Now that's what I call an ad with sense.

Money Matters

2006-05-28T19:52:00.000+05:30

Well, materialistic as that may sound, it's what has been dominating my mind for the last couple of weeks - money matters. I guess that's what happens when you are on your own and broke. Luckily for me, I am Indian, and so is my dad, so while it's not what I like to do, I have no issues asking him for backup, and he has none giving it... luckily he's also not that Indian in outlook, and will happily take back whatever I borrow from him...

Anyway, while I am tempted to go into more detail, I'll try and get back to what I had in mind... namely, money matters - and this time I mean that money does matter. I used to be very idealistic and say that money is of no importance to me... I suppose that only holds until you start paying all the bills!

One good has however come out of all this - I have finally thought of a banner text for my cell phone:

Money Matters

:(

On Turning 26

2005-12-08T14:49:00.000+05:30

26: 13 x 2: two primes
supposedly also the prime of one's life...
yet, what is that feeling?
is it, can it, be slight fear?
25 was cool-a quarter of a century.
worthy of celebration for having reached a landmark year.
but 26...that seems so, well, grown up!
21/22-can still be passed off as youth...
a college student, time for gaiety and nonsense.
26 on the other hand, seems to mean business.
get a job, get a career, get a life.
make some decisions, follow that path.
find a mate, or at least put up with the constant external questioning and raised eyebrows as to why one is mateless.
internally, wonder if the state is impermanent or perhaps one destined to be a life long companion, instead of the afore sought after mate.
not that it would be the end of the world or a disaster, of course.
still, the question does 'burn!'
26 then-no longer a young adult, no longer a child except in the eyes of one's parents or grandparents.
scared yet optimistic...surely something good's gotta give?!
the highlight of the day?
getting 'carded:' asked for ID before being allowed to sit at the bar and have a drink.
ah, who'd have thunk it would make my night-but then, being mistaken for under 21, that too on a birthday five (hey another prime) years past that one, is surely worthy of mention?
perhaps not to the reading populace (i am being arrogant to think there is one aren't i?)
but certainly for me.
26-gawd already? have i really inhabited the planet for that long?
with what to show for it? some few, very light marks.
still i rest on the idea that i will be missed, if for some reason 26 does not translate to 27...
for the here, the now: 26-here i come!

On Being Tagged

2005-11-25T14:25:00.000+05:30

erm... I think I have been spending too much time in geekland :P On further analysis (!!) I figured that when sayan tagged me, he was simply thinking of the game of Tag! :P

But was interesting to find out about tagging :D

Being Tagged

2005-11-25T11:06:00.000+05:30

Well, this is the first time I've been tagged (by sayan), and am blindly following the helpful instructions on his page :P He linked me to the following quiz:

Your Inner European is Spanish!

Energetic and lively.
You bring the party with you!

Who's Your Inner European?
For those who are as blank on tagging as I am, here's a helpful 3-part article - an excerpt from part 1:

Tagging, at its core, is a super-simple keyword filing system.

... there is nothing that says what tags (keywords) are “available.” There are no pre-assigned categories or hierarchies like you find in Yahoo, for example. You assign the tags (keywords) simply by what makes sense to you – and so does everyone else. Just like you do when (if) you categorize your very own bookmarks in folders in your web browser. What’s different here is you can access documents based both on how you (with your personal tags) “filed” it, as well as how everyone else tagged (“filed”/described/categorized) that same document.
...
In Flickr the documents are photos; in del.icio.us the documents are bookmarked web pages and in Technorati the tags are tied to blog posts.
...
What results from tagging is a shared categorization system that reflects how individuals describe documents, rather than a highly structured location system, like the Dewey decimal system, for example. It defies “standardization,” doing something that a standardized filing system (or search engine) can’t. It creates an evocative “view” of a document; one based on how it fits into people’s own lives, work or consciousness.

While still a bit confused at having a quiz tagged to me, I am guessing that all it means is that searching for my nick will result in his page being found - it also means that I've lost a little of my anonimity... although that had of course already been taken care of by BD :|

Anyways, now that everyone here has a sense of what tagging means, here goes me tagging my friends Rajesh, Pramod, Aman and Aaishah :)