No More Critical Analysis

Digital Monopoly

2008-07-15T11:37:00.002+05:30

We brought a new Monopoly. We had our cute little family evening where we played and ripped each other apart. Monopoly brings back memories of the hours spent with friends and siblings. But the new version has changed....

1. Railway stations replaced with airports
2. New hotspots of London are now on board
3. No more ships and irons as coins....now we have cell phones, aeroplanes and f1 cars
4. NO PAPER MONEY -- each one of us gets a debit card and an electroic device adds/removes money. This was a let down for me -- the machine is annoying and it feels like you're sitting next to an ATM. Also, being the banker is now work and not fun AND you can no longer cheat.

I went thru a phase where I thought Monopoly was evil mostly because my highly competitive friends who argue over one stupid deal for 30 minutes and end up fighting continuing to sulk for the rest of the day. Why would you want to PLAY something that creates conflict like that?

As always I lost. My little rollerblade coin barely moved away from taxes ad jail and i was soon broke. A sign that I shouldn't play or that I will never rollerblade.

Show me the way

2008-07-15T11:27:00.001+05:30

I always had the opinion that suicide needed a lot of strength. I always thought that I never had the guts to do it or seriously want it. But earlier this month I realised that Life needs much more strength than suicide. When it feels really dark and you feel stuck, holding on with hope is tough.

I was holding off writing this post and then thought why not. This is a tough period, so let's just accept it. I don't think I have the courage to kill myself and leave a mess behind. I'd rather live and focus on living well. But show me the strength.

I really admire people who can smile and laugh at everything. The truth is that I have been denying an undertone of depression that has probably been with me for a long long time. It all exploded and hit me in the face this time. Living with fear is not worth it. But then you have to learn how to live in freedom, something that I missed or chose not to do.

I want to do it now. I know it's the only way. I know life otherwise is not worth it. I know all this intellectually. How do I do it?

break it down

2008-06-29T16:53:00.005+05:30

i had mentioned somewhere earlier that 2008 will be an interesting year. i had a feeling, some signs. well so far, it's been quite ride.

i've got so far
- a knee pain that comes and goes....working on it
- a mysterious back problem for 4 months that caused a lot of agony and fright -- seems to be better right now
- a massive spasm in my neck from which my right arm still hurts. can't find a comfortable position to sleep.
- insomnia for 5 straight weeks where i slept about 1 hour each night
- loads of doctors, therapists, ayurvedics, homeopaths, all trying to tell me it's gonna be okay and trying to offer their opinion
- a heartbreak that was brought on by illness, fear, insecurity, and a whole horde of confusing emotions
- a cold and fever that just adds to the restlessness

when it rains, it pours. and being a worrier doesn't help. it's not a good idea to write about yr problems. it doesn't take things off yr mind. but what the heck. why not. to top it all, i haven't made it to the beauty salon, now everyone knows how hairy i am.

but the one thing that's happened is that these events have "brought me home". i've handed myself over to my parents who're looking after me like i'm their 1 yr old baby. no one, no one can look after you the way your parents do.

i cry when i want. laugh when i want. shout at them in annoyance. ask for food. shamelessly wake them up at night. it's because i can. i've finally let go of the resistances and when everything is over, if i have to think of one thing i gained from it all, it is the dissolving of the barriers that i created around me for so long. what patient people i say.

i heart mom and dad.

Mindnight Blogging

2008-05-30T03:37:00.002+05:30

I've been on a weight gain plan recently. I've been told time and again how I barely eat enough and since I've been struggling with my energy lately, I decided to give it a shot. Yesterday I found myself stuffing in extra rotis for each meals forcing the food down my throat. It was a battle between the extra food on my plate and me and I had decided to win.

Here I am at 3:30am with an upset stomach and no sleep. Psycho.

We've been putting together a little Spice Booklet for one of the restaurants at work. The idea is that we will give these to guests to keep them busy while the food takes too long. They, at the same time, will get frustrated and buy more alcohol. Win win for all. Anyway, the Food and Beverage Director looks at the list of spices to be included and violently (oh my) scratches out curry leaves. Huh? what? What's this against curry leaves? "Bloody South Indian obsession", he mumbled (He's a Bong).

I come home and my very-north-indian sis-in-law is giving the cook instructions on making Kadi, a Gujarati dish, and specifies, twice, don't put any curry leaves.

I don't get it. Having grown up in the South, curry leaves are a taken for granted part of every dal or vegetable. Why do the northies hate it so much? Ever had Chicken 65? Nothing but the spicy kick of the curry leaf. When you have that little green leaf thrown into your veggies, you don't need too much masala. Curry your curry so that you can enjoy the falvourful every meal.

Now I sound like a cook book.

On the other hand, northies, especially the Marwari ones, can't live without their Hing, asofetida. I like hing. Or let's say, I don't mind it. It makes me fart and I don't mind that too. But I don't like to taste only hing when I eat my food. I'd trade a curry leaf for hing any day.

This is what happens in the wee hours of the night. The mind refuses to rest.

A Letter to the U2 Lover

2008-05-27T11:20:00.002+05:30

Last night, as we were talking about your love for U2 and how you remembered the details of the moments you connected with their music and lyrics, yours stories brought back a lot of Bjork memories for me. Even though I rarely listen to her music now, I remember how her music followed me through my years in college and some more.

The first time I listened to Bjork was when Sruthi came home from her college in Michigan in 1999. I was morose because I didn't like being stuck in Hyderabad while all I really wanted was out. So when she played Hyperballad for me in the hope that I would say "Wow, this is really cool", I actually looked really sullen and said "Wow, you have to be really fucked up to enjoy this". Ha, imagine her face. By fucked up I meant on drugs where your sensibilities would allow you to be carried away by the song.

Sruthi coyly left the CD with me, just in case and I played it a few times. I began to notice that each time Hyperballad played, my heart would begin to race and as the song progressed I'd have this desperate desire to run really fast and jump off a cliff. The song would mostly be playing in the background with me barely paying attention to the lyrics and the layers the melody are what got me first. And then I listened to the words:

I wonder what my body would sound like
slamming against those rocks
and when it lands
will my eyes be closed
or open

It was unbelievable. How did she know that's exactly what I wondered?

The next song that captured me was I Miss You (I've already sent this to you). I remember the exact details of the moment I fell in love with it. I was in the "will I ever meet my kind of guy" mode. I was in Ohio, driving to my uncle's place, and was parked at a traffic signal when this song started blaring on the radio. I recognized it but had, again, never paid too much attention to the lyrics. This time I listened, especially since the words were an echo of what was going on inside, and I felt really high listening to the song. Even today, I love this song. It's a fantastic foot tapping number with a hip hop swing in the undertone.

I've got so many songs of hers floating in my head right now. I'll just have to play them for you in person and tell you the stories.

The Gene That Sneaks In

2008-05-25T14:58:00.003+05:30

Last week, in my counseling class, we were handed our "take-home" mid term tests. We took them home and brought them back so we could discuss and grade them in class, each one of us grading ourselves on each answer. Each of the 25 questions could have had at least 2 primary answers and several secondary answers and the teachers said we took one point for each correct primary answer.

As we were grading, there were some questions where I didn't have both primary answers. Old habits die hard and the girl who [almost] stood first in class kicked in trying to justify secondary answers as primary answers so she could get that extra point. We're aiming for a 100% aren't we!

Then two realizations hit:
1. We were allowed to skip 5 questions....so if I missed out on points it wouldn't really hurt my grade. Er, yeah.

Then a deeper insight:
2. So what if I don't get that 100% on paper. Not like anyone else is gonna get it. Um....

Even deeper:
3. Let go stupid. Getting 100% doesn't mean anything. Just grade it as it is and go home. No biggie.

Sigh.

Growing up, coming first in class was so important to me. Don't get me wrong, I never came first. Always second or third. Sometimes even fourth (Om my God!). But it became a bad habit to keep trying to reach towards the first rank and I forgot to be happy for having passed (not passing was never an option). And then, one year, I had a bout of chronic malaria and flunked Math. Math, for which I had won the ICSE prize. Math, my favorite topic. Can you believe that?

It wasn't acceptable at all and I gave myself a lot of grief about it, set about waking up at 5am everyday to go to Math tuition and was satisfied only when I got 90-something in the next round of exams. So compulsive.

So this time when I was grading my counseling skills paper, the dirty little competitive gene showed up again. I wanted to beat it down Tom-and-Jerry style -- bonk it on the head repeatedly until it shattered, but as the questions rolled on, the popped up again.

I guess I am gonna have to live with it.

Goan Glory

2008-05-14T12:34:00.005+05:30

I just unpacked my suitcase from my trip to Goa last week. The clothes still smell of the ocean and there's bits of sand in the corners. Good trip. I've never enjoyed Goa this much before.

When we decided that Goa it would be, I set about looking for the best beach and the perfect little place to stay. It had to be comfortable but not too fancy, in budget but not necessarily too cheap. And of course, not too touristy. Er, compulsive behavior, I admit. But Goa, being the holiday haven it is, gave me several options from north of the North beaches to the ultra-southern areas. We finally picked Palolem beach because there was a hospital near by (just in case certain pregnant people (not me) needed to use one) and stayed a Ciaran's camp, which I thought was not very Indian friendly (the discriminated-in-my-own-country experience). I would periodically get riled up about it but was afraid to say anything lest I make a bad impression on my new friends....

The food was great - a pure fish diet for one week, the company was fantastic (I learned loads from Renu Nair about being the Boss), the afternoons were spent taking naps or playing scrabble (well, Arun and I playing while the others were trying to stay awake), I'd like to make an honorable mention of the deolicious oil massages I received everyday. We celebrated Arun's birthday at Loginoors, an old Goa classic complete with sullen waiters and no air conditioning. The devious three (the baby got it's own vote) convinced us, under the pretense of a democratic vote, into driving an hour into Margao to watch Tashan (every vacation has a thorn).

The waves in Goa were surprisingly large. A big one whammed into me and slammed me back towards the shore, shoving salt water all the way up into the brain. That's when I bowed out and tip toed sheepishly to the gentler edge of the beach. The boys battled the waves challenging the ocean to come get them, and it sure as hell did. At the end of the trip, I wasn't alone on the gentler edge of the beach.

The next two days were spent at "eco beach huts" called Chattai. Looked very cute and nicely designed. But with the cheap rates and natural materials, we got loads of red and black ants, mosquitoes, a hard bed, and a toilet whose seat refused to stay on. Two days into it, we were so miserable that we decided to fuck our budget and move into this posh Portuguese villa an hour north of Palolem. By now, we just wanted some comfort, didn't want to see the damn beach and the idea of sand in our bums was just too squirmy. The last two days at the villa were enough to erase all painful memories of Chattai. We even got to eat lunch at Martin's Corner, Sachin Tendulkar's favorite restaurant in Goa (Oh My!).

One morning we went for a little boat ride to see dolphins and spent the hour chasing a couple of them around. APSD was hoping for a little synchronized show where a whole school of dolphins would jump through the air to show off their skills. Poor child should have gone to Sea World instead.

By the time the trip ended, we had spent time at almost all the places I had narrowed down in my research. The OCD shade of my persona was deeply satisfied (so what if Chattai sucked). I wanted to gloat about it but was distracted by the misery of the trip back home. Air Deccan delayed by hours and I was left all by my lonesome to suffer the withdrawal symptoms that always come on after each vacation.

Jaane Kahaan Gayee Woh Din

2008-05-12T19:11:00.004+05:30

Sangeet Theatre, one of Hyderabad's oldest cinema houses (since 1967) is being torn down to be rebuilt as a plush multiplex. Good decision, Hyderabad needs more cinema halls (have you tried getting tickets to a movie on the weekend?). But I couldn't resist feeling nostalgic about the place. It was an essential cornerstone of my teenage years.

Sangeet was one of two "decent" theaters in town that showed English films. In high school, Sunday afternoons at Sangeet was a rigid tradition. After a hard night of "partying" we woke up stiff and sore (er, we thought head banging was so cool) and got someone to drive us to watch the latest English movie in town, even if it was something as awful as Titanic. Hyderabad was really short of places to out at. So going to the movies was the next best option. And then it became a cultish thing. If you were invited to watch a movie with us, then you're "in". Yeah, we were a bunch of snobs.

I laughed out loud as I remembered the day it was my friend Shraavya's birthday and we carried a little cake for her. Not wanting to wait for the interval, we lit it up in the middle of the film and began to sing for her. People around us were livid and the manager stormed in and found her holding this cake with 16 bright candles, yelled at her and threw her out while we were sniggering in our seats. Nasty teenagers, I say.

The cinema house also played an important role in supporting budding romances. Where else could we escape the conservative eyes of the city's adults and smooch and cuddle in the darkness? I think more than one of my friends had their first kiss here.

Sangeet's chutney sandwiches are still famous. Spicy chutney downed with Thumbs Up (the cola drink), an explosion on the taste buds. Sometimes, when we're in the area, we stop and pick up a few for the road. The man who's been making them has been around for 15 years now and I hope they bring him back when the shiny multiplex opens.

I haven't watched a film there in a few years, with traffic it now takes one hour to get there as opposed to the twelve minutes about ten years ago. Also, it's just not the same without the gang of friends. But whenever I think back, I can't remember what else we did on Sunday afternoons.

Got Milk?

2008-05-12T09:54:00.003+05:30

Milk is disgusting. I've always thought so. So this usually eliminates from my diet:
ras malai, milk pudding, kheer, white butter, milk cream (eeyuk), rabdi, and all those goodies that are very milky (er, ice creams somehow missed the list).

I can't remember when I started hating milk. My mother has told horror stories, where she sat me and a glass of milk for at least an hour every morning until she got frustrated, slapped me around, and forced the doodhi poison down my throat. As I grew older, the parents thought I must have matured, and in their innocent trust, left my glass of milk on the table, brimming with confidence that I would gulp it down before rushing off to school. The minute they turned around, I poured the milk down the drain, into a potted plant, wherever.

I didn't always escape drinking milk by myself. Mary, our cook and mother of two young boys, was a willing ally in helping the milk disappear. She hid the glass away and it on to her sons who showed up at the window at the right time. I didn't care as long as I didn't have to drink it (yes, her boys are tall and strong now and I would like to take some credit for it). Ha, I got away with it for quite some time.

But good things never last, do they. The parents found out (I think my brother ratted on me) and from then on I had to drink my glass of milk under the nose of a very stern parent. The word spread and even when I visited relatives, all my aunts were clued in. What an pain it was. Ugh.

So when I turned 16, I refused to drink it anymore. Rebellion is a powerful tool and adolescent rebellion is just delicious. I finally relaxed that I would never have to touch milk again.

Fast forward to 27, a recent medical report brought to the table that I need at least two glasses of milk with Horlicks (not the chocolate flavor) everyday. This has been a nightmare for the last one week. I've been kicked in the butt and have had to suck it up. I now find myself in the kitchen twice a day making that detested glass of milk, tempted to pour it down the sink, but gulping it down instead.

Mission Spiritual

2008-04-20T13:59:00.005+05:30

This morning, in Kathak class, a little girls parents were watching her practice. As they were saying their good byes the father suddenly began to insist that Mangala Didi, our teacher, must enroll for a Vipassana course this year. "Not to be delayed", he emphasized again and again and then looked at me, "it will change your life".

People like these are Vipassana Missionaries. Once they've enrolled in the cult, .i.e. managed to spend ten days without talking, they preach their experience to everyone they know. "It will change your life". Their intentions are good, no doubt, but --

A. How do you know what my life is all about?
B. How do you know I want to change anything about my life?
C. How do you know whether I am open to this spiritual process or not?
D. Who gives you the authority to be a pain in the ass?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against Vipassana or meditation etc. But the basic rules of following any practice [not just spiritual or religious] are:
1. You talk about your opinion when someone asks you or it comes up in a conversation.
2. If it works for you it does not mean it will work for the rest of the population.
3. Stop being such an egotistical moron to think your practice is the only way to be happy.

Spirituality is a personal thing. In fact, you ask half the population what it means, they'll either have no clue (because they have never thought about it) or give extremely varied answers. So do your thing and leave everyone else alone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
P.S: I have thought about doing a Vipassana course for a couple of years. I don't know if it will change my life but I am curious about what it is like to be silent and focussed on your breath for ten days.

P.P.S: During the process of discovering yoga etc. I too caught myself telling people how fantastic it was. But now that I'm wiser, I have the right to complain about those who're not ;)

Third World Existence

2008-04-20T10:53:00.002+05:30

Our neighbourhood is eligible for the govt. owned BSNL internet connection only. We don't have a choice and almost everyday I wake up, turn on my computer with a little prayer that the net is working. Of the seven days in the week, it's out for about 3 days and then during the remaining 4 days, it flickers in and out every 20 minutes or so. "Your internet connection is experiencing problems [again]".

So try downloading music, uploading photos, or watching videos on this "high speed internet" connection, and you could be stuck here all day restarting the whole process just when you thought it had gone through.

Well, what do you expect from the government? We'll wait for the private companies to come around.

But private companies are douchebags as well. On April 9th, I sent a document to Goa via DTDC Courier Service, India's leading and omnipresent delivery service. It was supposed to have reached by April 12th but there were no signs of it. Tried calling DTDTC only to realize that the numbers written on the receipt are about 2 years old. Went over to the nearest center and the guy has no clue about "tracking" the document. Managed to wrangle a Goa DTDC office number from him to find out minutes later that the folks in Goa can't help me because there is no electricity in their office [inverter anyone?].

I gave up, it'll reach when it reaches. {why didn't I look them up on the internet, you ask? Because the high speed internet connection at home was DOWN. Did you think I was that dumb?}.

One week later, I get a call that the document hasn't reached. So I don't even bother with DTDC and decide to send it again with Blue Dart. More expensive equals more reliable (don't argue with me). At 9pm, they called me to tell me they don't deliver to the address written on the envelope. Yelled at them. They agreed to deliver. Fingers crossed.

Bloody third world existence.

2008-04-13T16:31:00.004+05:30

The last time I was here, I talked about balance.

Now, I'm bored. Sure, balance and all that is fine, but that too like everything else has become a routine. Other people around me have no clue what my schedule is like. They think I'm always adding or deleting some event, class, or pursuit. But they don't know that for the last two months, I've been doing my thing quite steadily.

Right now I feel that I'm just swinging the swing without kicking my legs to keep the momentum.

I think I'm also hooked to getting out of town every two months. I've traveled in Novemeber, December, and February. Now I'm itching to leave again. Not to worry, a one week trip to Goa is coming up at the end of the month and I'm know it'll push me out of this mental inertia trap that I have fallen into.

Until then, ugh.

Somewhere in between

2008-04-06T23:27:00.005+05:30

It’s been one of those days where I’ve barely managed to brush my teeth and take a shower. This on a Wednesday. In my defense, my Tuesday is bloody hard. A 2 hour commute, 6 hours at the office, 3 hours in a class and another 2 hours of teaching leave me drained. Therefore, Wednesday has been set aside to work from home in my PJs.

I once wondered if I will ever be able to cope with a neurotic, hectic lifestyle again. I remember the days at the Novotel where 13-hour days, a 1-hour commute, and 6 days a week were the norm. By Saturday afternoon, I could barely lift my arm to shove a spoonful of rice into my mouth at lunch. When I quit, I swore that I had kissed the corporate world goodbye.

But here I am, working part-time for the new Novotel and this time I don’t resent it.

I’ve been thinking about what it means to have a balanced life. The newspapers seem to be running daily columns dedicated to unraveling the problems of our modern, soulless lives and searching for formulae to balance them. Usually the articles are pointing fingers at those who work too much, drink too much, eat too much, stress too much, sleep too less, exercise too less, entertain too less, spend time with family too less etc.

But if someone needs money, who are we to tell that person to cut back on work and exercise more (so what if you can’t pay rent!). Who decides the limits on drinking too much (don’t ask my aunt who throws up her hands in horror at the thought of alcohol)? Why is a life unbalanced if it feels happy and fulfilled even if it involves being buried in activities 24/7 (hello, any successful artists out there?)?

Looking into my own life, I realized that working full-time, to market a product I didn’t really care about, was not working for me because it left me no time for other things I enjoyed and wanted on a regular basis. But quitting the corporate world and just teaching yoga was not really working for me either. While it gave me a lot of time for all the extras I desired, I found myself exhausted [again], dissatisfied [yes, again] and above all, er, poor.

So now with a part-time job, teaching yoga, a dance class and some other classes I am enrolled in, I’m working Monday to Saturday, 10am to 8pm. I love each one of these and you’ll rarely hear me complain. For the first time, I feel balanced.

I've cracked it

2008-03-14T12:22:00.004+05:30

People like me who come to things like yoga, buddhism, and other systems that can help them create a better life often reach a conclusion that they seem to be "sorted out". We live life wearing serene confidence on our sleeves, wearing flowy clothes that will allow us to waft along with life, in disillusion that it cannot touch us anymore. "Ah, we've found peace."

All it takes is a single moment to get crushed.

For the last few years, I've been in and out of conversations where we've talked about "accepting" yourself. "Sure", I thought. "How hard is that"?

I've fought for what I wanted, moved cities, moved countries, changed professions, chosen lifestyles, and rebelled against all standards expected of me. I thought I was accepting myself.

I concluded that I come from a turbulent history so therefore I have a lot of work to do to learn to enjoy life. I thought I was accepting myself.

I realized that sometimes I feel really fragile but say to myself that I need to work on becoming stronger. I thought I was accepting myself.

I had missed the point.

Acceptance does not come with an action plan. It comes with letting yourself be. It is the difference between: "This is a part of me" rather than "This is something I need to work on". Acceptance, like meditation, is a state of mind. One where there is no judgment. No more. No less.

On and off I find that a strange fear overcomes me. I could never put my finger on it. I brood and ponder looking for more things I can "work" on. Too much of self-improvement can, in turn, lead to a confused self-esteem.

Now I know. The fear translates to "I'm imperfect".

This imperfection has interfered with various relationships at different points in time. This is where the baggage plugs in. I wanted to be perfect in all my relationships so that I can eradicate all pain. I didn't want to be the one that tolerated endlessly. And I didn't want to be the other extreme that was irrational and unreasonable. But I ended up being both at different times.

This time I am letting myself be. I have ups and downs, the good, bad, and ugly, likes and dislikes. I'm okay with that.

Make no assumptions

2008-03-07T09:21:00.002+05:30

During a patient consultation, the squirmiest moment an Indian doctor goes through is asking a patient if she is pregnant, especially if her marital status is not known.

This week, I visited the Orthopedic doctor's office. As he was shooting his questions about height, weight, age, etc. I was waiting for the cringe moment of the consultation. And it arrived moments later --

Doctor: er, (looking away outside the window), are you married?
Me: No, doctor
Doctor: (back to looking me in the eye) Ok then no problem. . We can get the x-rays done (pregnant women shouldn't be exposed to x-rays).

The truth is that most Indian doctors are unprofessional enough to acknowledge that an unmarried woman may be pregnant. Not only is this common sense (duh, did the doc learn anything at med school?) but as further proof, the popular national weeklys (India Today, Week, etc.) have published surveys that it is quite likely that the urban 20-30-something woman is sexually active without marriage. When are they going to get their act together and simply ask "Do you think you could be pregnant?". My friends and I have come across this even when we were living abroad where Indian doctors couldn't face up to the "immoral character" of their Indian patients.

After the doctor's consultation, I went on to get my x-rays. The technician took all the details to get me under the machine when he suddenly went, "Are you Miss or Mrs.?".

Sigh.

The x-ray process is a whole other story. They tell me to get behind a flimsy curtain to change into a ratty, smelly robe. "All garments off", get naked. I was uncomfortable (the door was closed) and my defenses shot up. However, I told myself to get over it (hopefully he's professional enough not to peek) and changed into the robe only to realise there are no buttons, velcro strips, or strings to secure this damn robe. This was just not cool. For a society that is prudish enough to assume that in India "not married equals not pregnant" it doesn't seem to give a second thought to the idea that it could be uncomfortable for an [indian] woman to strut around the x-ray room naked.

I created a stink and a half and insisted on changing into my garments.

These are the days

2008-03-02T12:04:00.004+05:30

February gets two thumbs up from me. I've had a fantastic month and have been on a roll with everything going on.

The first part of the month took me to Singapore and Thailand .

I skipped Bangkok and flew straight to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. As usual, I forgot to check the weather and landed into a cold wave without any warm clothes. A 5-minute visa process (as opposed to the 4 hours it took in BK back in November) and I was on my way to the resort, which was an old tobacco curing farm converted into an eco-friendly, down-to-earth resort. I was there to attend an Anusara Yoga workshop with about 50 other people from all over the world. Other than 5 hours of class time (asana and theory) , long meals in the mango tree orchard, and lazy afternoons by the pool I don't really remember much. I've always experienced a bit of conflict over the approach to yoga in the West and India and I think this workshop helped me bridge the gap a little (more about that later).

After Chiang Mai, I flew into Singapore for one of the best vacations I've ever had. Living in that city back a lot of memories of life in NY. It's a self-reliant, energy-packed existence where you can easily fill your day. There was a carefree element to my days there. I had forgotten how much I liked public transportation and how much more reading and listening to music I got done on the trains.

APSD is an incredible host - right from the moment he picks you up until the last wave of good bye - and I got to share some of his life with him. I watched 9 movies in that short span which is more than what I'll watch in 9 weeks by myself in Hyderabad. The highlight of the trip was the party at his house on my last night there. It was a hilarious treat to watch him run frantically between the 4 entrances of apartment building because he never knew which gate his guest had arrived at. It was also amusing (and a little heart-stopping) when he almost set himself on fire at the BBQ grill.

Back in Hyderabad, I had no choice but to jump into the crazy swing of things. My work at the Novotel required a lot of attention and my students had been waiting for me to be back. I have about 8-9 students in my class right now and every night we've been spending a high-energy hour in the yoga room. The counseling class is really fun and Kathak is on as usual. Just chugging along everyday.

No traveling for me for the next two months, I've got to stay and work a little. I've been feeling a little uninspired about writing to this blog for a couple of months now, but maybe this is a good start again.

Until lightning strikes again.....

Procrastination

2008-01-28T22:30:00.000+05:30

I am supposed to be doing my homework for the Counseling Skills course I signed up for. I'm supposed to write an essay on How I Came To Be The Person I Am. Not allowed to use a computer. Not allowed to show it to anyone. Just got to be brave and start it. A minimum of 5 pages required. No idea what she's going to make us do with it.

In the last class, the teacher said, "Don't do it at 4am, Tuesday morning, about 6 hours before class.". I found myself wondering exactly that a few minutes ago. What if I wake up super early to finish it like I used to for all my exams? I am not a night person. All I want to do right now is crawl into my blankets.

She also said, "Don't give in to the resistance that comes with this exercise. You'll try to avoid it as long as you can". Here I am writing about the homework instead of doing the homework itself.

Such a procrastinator. Not because I'm scared. I'm just lazy. I guess I better get to work.

One Month Down

2008-01-27T16:37:00.000+05:30

January has flown. It's moved so quickly through everything that was going on that I'm astounded that we have only 4 days left. The highlights of the month have been reconnecting with some of my best friends.

Sruthi and Tulika were here as soon as I got back from my vacation at the beginning of the month. We were in and out of each others homes during that week and then we headed out to the Taj one night and stayed there until 3am catching up on boyfriends(and exes), work, school, frantic parents, rants, raves, and other stuff we've talked about a million times in the last eleven years.

Samai was here for a weekend to see her new nephew. The little kudi from dilli and I got to catch up over coffee and then dinner at the Mariott poolside where I almost fell asleep on the comfy couch. A sarcastic and cynical opinion on everything, I shared some good laughs with her. Her all too short trip came to an end within 24 hours of her arrival and she left with empty promises that she'll be back in two weeks for a friend's wedding (she never came). I guess I won't be seeing her until July/Aug since I despise Delhi winters and summers.

Muneera arrived with Inara on Jan 19th. I've been spending every hour I can steal over at their house. I tend to walk in on them the moment they sit down to a scrumptious meal (lucky me). Muneera's been treating my cold and cough the Ayurvedic way using strange yellow and brown concoctions in milk. She shook her head disappointedly when she saw me shoving in chocolate pudding at lunch. We're also having fantastic chats over homeschooling her baby, the dangers of using teflon-coated pans, and the benefits of pouring ghee in all your curries ;). Inara is the most adorable baby around at the moment. Between negotiating with her mother over every bite and smiling ecstatically every time her grandpa snaps his fingers, this little girl is stealing hearts by the second. She's learning to walk and her latest thing is to pace across the room, cell phone to ear, baby-talking with her daddy. I collapsed on the floor when Inara proudly whispered her newest word (it's probably the 5th full word she can speak) -- "Happy". What can I say, I guess Hippy parents make Happy babies.

Uma is also here for a friend's wedding. She showed up at my house at 11pm, walking like a duck in a bright yellow Sari. 30 minutes and 5 saftey pins later we left for the Sangeet. I asked my driver to wait for us promising him that we'll be back in an hour. 4 hours later we were still on the dance floor. Sindhis really know how to get down. 60-year old aunties were insisting on drinking shots with all the young 'uns without a care in the world. We finally left but the party went on long after us.

These ladies are special because we've all known each other for more than 10 years now. We were the coolest entourage in town and the connection and closeness has only gotten better through the years. Being the only resident Hyderabadi these days, I lucked out and got to hang with all of them (and then they all left me behind...grrr). I don't really remember much else about January, it's passed by in a blur. The icing on the cake will be my trip to Singapore and Thailand that begins in 3 days.

Hey, Ho, and a Merry-O

2008-01-06T09:04:00.000+05:30

Hello, hello. Happy New Year. It's been a lovely two-week vacation from the blog and now it feels good to be back.

Frankly, I was getting sick of this blog. Sick of this mundane shit that I write. Who cares about reading it anyway? And if I'm writing for "myself" then why don't I just get a journal? But then sometimes you just have to blow the questions away and write anyway. Agree? Disagree? Never mind.

December was a time for reunions. Lots of old friends passing through town. Tulika, Uma, Sruthi, Deepti, Dinesh, and even some old schoolmates I haven't met in a long time. It's been great hanging out with them at leisurely lunches and loud bars. All good. The much awaited arrival of Muneera and my pink rabbit will end on Jan 19th.

My life continues to evolve rapidly. I am still teaching yoga and have at least 6 regular students, which I am grateful for. I've also picked up a consulting project with the new Novotel. It's a sweet deal where I am on-site 2 days a week and work from home the rest of the time.

Took a little vacation in the last week of 2007. Spent 3 gorgeous days in Coonoor and another 3 in Bangalore. We realised that the combination of cold weather and no central heating is not our thing. My body just refuses to function. But we shed the blankets and dragged ourselves out, walked around in the tea gardens soaking in the hill-station-sun. The "toy train" ride from Coonoor to Ooty was absolutely spectacular. But the best part about the whole trip was the company :).

Back in Blore, we rang in the new year with red wine shots (ugh), Entourage, and Harry Potter Uno. Very 37-year-oldish but just up my alley. 2008 should be interesting. All through 2007, I dated every cheque as 2008. It's probably a sign. I'll be either filthy rich or flat broke this year.

Anything we focus on expands

2007-12-19T23:02:00.000+05:30

The simplest example of this is within our own bodies.

If you just sit back and start listening to your breath, you'll notice that it automatically becomes slightly longer (expands). This is because the minute we focus on it, we begin to affect it. Subconsiously we know that it should be slow and long (as oppsed to quick bursts). I see this in yoga class all the time. Someone challenged in an asana has ragged breathing and the minute they shift their awareness to it, the breath stablises, the body stabilises in the pose, and the facial expressions relax.

This example can be carried into all aspects of our lives. If we worry, then it will only grow. If we fear, it will begin to rule our lives. If we practice patience, it will permeate into everything we do. If we love ourselves, this love will have no other choice but to grow into love for other people around us.

In yoga, this concept is taught in the Yoga Sutras, verses which encompass all messages needed to live life the Yoga way. As I began to notice my thought patterns over the last week, I realised how much of my life is affected by fear and the negativity that it creates.I didn't even realise until recenlty how a small moment of anxiety over career, relationships, and desires can consume me easily. I've spent years trying to change certain un-desired patterns, or to think positively with real inner conviction with lots of resistance and little success.

But a simple practice of sitting down to listen to my breath and focus on creating positive energy in my life for just 5 minutes has served as the tipping point that has driven the message home. I do it everyday and it feels real good.

FATTY

2007-12-13T14:06:00.000+05:30

This morning as I was teaching and one of my students told me that the Gym next door had a weighing scales that measured % of body fat. Now Shantan and I had talked about this while he was telling me that he got on this scale every day (he's trying to lose some weight) and checked how many grams of fat he had shed in the last 24 hours. I looked at him in horror and wondered what that did to the psyche of a person who had the tendency to get obsessive. I gave him stories from Aerobics days when I saw women get obsessed with the scale and turn towards Anorexia.

So this morning I thought I should check this scale out. But I wondered if I really want to know about this stuff. Why not, what harm can one time do? I got on it and went through the process. At the end of it, the machine spit out a little receipt with my vitals -- height, weight, % of body fat.

27%.
WTF.
How can it be?
Really?

Everyone has had the same reaction. Yes, I've been doing my own little survey. The acceptable range for a normal person is 21%-33%, so I'm right in the middle. So I'm balanced. It shouldn't really matter. Fuck the scale. Ok, ok, phew.

But now all I see is FAT. My legs, my arms, my er, belly....yikes. FAT FAT FAT.

Pre-New-Year-Resolutions

2007-12-11T21:20:00.000+05:30

1. I will spend less time on the computer surfing the internet and chatting with friends to reduce the chitter-chatter in my head.
2. I will keep my room uncluttered and thus try to keep my mind uncluttered on a daily basis.
3. I will practice patience with myself and people in my life so that I can be gentle rather than reacting under pressure.
4. I will meditate for 10 minutes every day regardless of how busy or lazy I am.
5. I will work towards being less afraid of the future. I have no way of predicting anything.

Have I reached Nirvana yet?

Utterly Butterly Delicious!

2007-12-08T11:45:00.000+05:30

I saw a link on Google News to Amul's latest ad and it triggered a memory.

When we were in school, we would drive past an Amul hoarding everyday. The hoarding was at one of the then busiest intersections of the city. Everyone crossing from Secunderbad to Banjara Hills area stopped here and at least everyone we knew looked forward to passing by so that they could see Amul's latest ad. Usually quirky, quippy, and funny, their hoarding was a point of discussion in the first 5 minutes of office-hours and kitty parties alike.

After I saw the Aaja Munchle Ad, I realised that Amul must have [hopefully] archived all their old designs on a website. and I did find the fantastic archive on their website.

I clicked into the late-80s to see if I would recognize any and I did (albeit only a few). I even remember bits and pieces of conversation with Dad as he drove us each morning. As an "ignorant" child who refused to read the news, I'd ask him about a million questions when I didn't understand the catchphrase and he'd give me an update on what's been happening in the world.

Unfortunately, when the Municipal Corp. cleaned up the city and brought down all the hoardings on the streets, it's people lost one of their daily routines. Amul had a daily presence in our lives and till this day everyone at home prefers it over other butters. That's a brand well-built, I would say.

2007-12-05T15:04:00.000+05:30

Last night, we attended the reception of a family friend's daughter at a hotel in town. We walked in all dressed up in glitter, climbed the stage, ramped past the row of relatives, almost missed the bride and groom, gave them the little token envelope, and climbed down. We walked to the dinner buffet where we ran into other "attendees" like us, trying a spoon from each of the 12 types of cuisines laid out in front of us. The entire process, door to door, took exactly 55 minutes, luckily because the hotel is a stone's throw away from home. What a waste of time though.

An ex-classmate invited me to her wedding. I haven't connected with her in years and all of a sudden I get this email with a line that goes "please consider this my personal invitation". For someone who I haven't seen or talked to in 6 years, this "personal" invite was a bit to casual for me to even consider it remotely genuine. So why bother?

Weddings should be closed affairs. Invite people that you actually want to be around and not those you are indifferent towards. Large weddings, in my opinion, are like large charity events where you feed, not the poor and needy, but members of your society who's egos will prick if they are left out. I'd rather eat at home.

I'm really happy for those who are getting married. And I wish them the best. But I and at least half the people in that garden will willingly send their best wishes long-distance. I have no egotistical issues if you don't invite me, in fact I'll be grateful if you spare me the obligation of attendance. In a time when everyone's insisting on having 4 events for each wedding PLUS it being the wedding season, running around the city to show your face at each event makes no sense to me at all.

Post Script

2007-12-04T10:14:00.000+05:30

It's about 24 hours after I posted the 5-minute rant.

I walked over to Saptaparni, one of my favorite locations in Hyd and also the place that first trusted me enough to begin teaching. I was there to sign up for a [hopefully] phenomenal workshop coming up next week.

Last evening, I began teaching at Est, a popular gym started by the cricketer Azharuddin. We're running trial classes for a week to see if this could click. I never thought I'd teach at a gym, it's really not the ideal environment. But last evening, during the 3 classes that we ran through, about 20 gym junkies (men and women) gave it a try. I've NEVER had this much fun in a yoga class.

I watched them stroll into class with a wee bit of condescension written all over their face. "Yoga, ha. Too slow. What can it do for me. Fine, I'll try it. Let's see what she has to offer." One character walks up to me and says, "Look, I know your yoga is for mental peace and all that, but let me tell you, mentally, I'm solid, I'm SO fine. If you can help me physically, then, ya, I'll try it."

Hmm, how do we go about this?

Switching gears, I immediately shifted into bossy-bitch-mode and kicked off with 10 sun salutations and 40 minutes of non-stop movement. I walked around, stamped my foot, yelled across the room (hey, if BKS Iyengar and Pattabhi Jois can do it, why can't I?) and tried really hard to keep them from constantly looking at themselves in the mirror. At the end of the class, when I opened the floor for questions, they couldn't stop talking. I drove home with a satisfied glint.

While this is not the way I would like to teach, perhaps it's necessary in order to crack certain stereotypes yoga carries. At the end of the day, while the gym is not an ideal place, the class shouldn't be about external physcial fitness, and yaada yaada yaada, it was a great start and we'll watch where it goes.

So from my 5-minute rant in the morning the day had zipped around to a really good one.