Running to Stand Still

Life and Death

2011-05-26T14:47:00.000-07:00

Someone very close to me died last year. It was a time of intense grief, but we all got over it in whatever way we could. Now a year has passed and as I talk with the people left behind, it is yet another reaffirmation that life doesn't stop for anything. Only death stops.

In the death anniversary being celebrated (is that the right word for someone who died?) for this person, all I heard were accounts of people meeting after a long time, renewing old bonds - no real mention of the person who passed away. Maybe we all were avoiding that topic to avoid upsetting each other, but it struck me as sadly funny that the person who died was indeed gone - no antics or occupation left to report.

I guess, life's like that.

Cricket and Ballet at Columbus Circle

2011-04-03T06:22:00.000-07:00

It was an amazing sight to see around 20-30 Indians shouting themselves hoarse at the country's cricket world cup win in the middle of New York City. They had even brought with them dhols and a (mainly African American) brass band. Chants of "Indiaaaaa... India" did their mandatory rounds while at the same time the revelry was kept at a polite American level, with Indians mindful of their manners, unlike the unbridled frenzy the same people would have gotten into back home. However, even this (by Indian standards) mild celebration turned interesting when the cops came up to break the party (and probably figure out what the hell it was all about - the Super Bowl is over innit??). That's when it hit me - we have arrived. Indians have arrived and are forcing the Americans to learn what Cricket is.

In any case, jokes apart, all this education was in vain since the cops could't care less and asked the Indian folks to move the celebration along to somewhere else, which they obediently (if somewhat defiantly) did. One of the most striking scenes at the event was a ballet dancer and her partner trying to dance around the circle but giving up in good-natured resignation when confronted with the frenzied cricketing masses (okay - that is an exaggeration). But what a feeling - I will never forget it.

The De-Egyptization of India

2011-01-28T20:35:00.000-08:00

We have come a long way from being a colony to the current democracy in India, which while not perfect, is starkly different from the so-called democracies like Singapore, Malaysia and, more aptly for today's news, Egypt. Sure, we have our share of corruption -- slimy ministers fattening themselves on taxpayer money -- but at least the somewhat regular balance of power among the various political parties of the country keeps the hope alive that things can change and that no one individual or family is running the show.

With the Gandhi family's recent resurgence, this could be jeopardized, but there is still hope that some sense will prevail and people with real expertise chosen to lead this huge country. So, here's to the hope that Rahul Gandhi is chosen as PM not because he pulls of publicity stunts like riding with the "common man" in Mumbai's local trains, but because he really has the political and economic savvy to lead India into an increasingly competitive future.

Yes, I need to be with someone to be happy

2010-06-19T04:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, this is me, Scout, saying these lame things (I even thought up ridiculous lines like "Unleash yourself from the tyranny of me"--how gay is that??). I sound like the pseudo-guru from "Yes man," but I have decided that I am going to be OK with admitting to the world, and most importantly, myself, that I need someone other than myself to be happy.

And now that I am getting married, I have found that someone :) So yay me! Now waiting for comments from all my naysayer blogger friends... Bring it ON!

Helplessly limbless

2010-03-07T11:22:00.000-08:00

Been wanting to write about this for about a week now. I guess better late than never, huh?

I admit I am new in the city - Mumbai - the roller-coaster of a city this is. So everyday, I see this little girl with no upper limbs -- yes, no arms -- prostate on the ground, in the train station. And everyday, I pass by without dropping the expected coins. It is so surreal -- this limbless apathy I exhibit but do not really feel. I want to drop all my coins there, every single note I possess can go there -- but I guess I am too practical to actually do that. Somewhere in my mind I realize it is an act, the little girl, limbless though she may be, is part of a larger nexus out there to swindle me, but somehow, it galls me not to do something about it. Makes me feel guilty about my relatively privileged existence... I know it is ridiculous, but I cannot help it. But I refrain from giving money to the prostate girl and the other prostate, limbless boy at the station. There are just too many people who deserve sympathy and I just cannot give my sympathy to so many. I make a living and just want to be left alone to enjoy what I earn, and not feel guilty about the masses of limblessness around me...

Am I selfish? I guess I am. Not more than anyone out there though, I am sure.

Nothing changes

2010-02-08T12:39:00.000-08:00

Nothing changes

We bruise ourselves in the same damn way

Over and over again.

Snakes on a plane (This makes me blue)

2010-01-09T07:16:00.000-08:00

Hi folks, its been a while, eh?

Right, something had to shake me out of my stupor and it has.

I recently read about all these air hostesses being (literally) manhandled by disgusting male plane passengers in India. Even reading about it induced an indescribable feeling of bitterness and frustration in me, since all girls in India, if not the world, must definitely have experienced something akin to this.

Why do men like doing this to women? And why do women recoil from the slightest touch from a man they do not want it from?

It seems so trivial -- a nudge, a wink, a slight brush against the shoulder (or worse) -- really it cannot scar a girl forever. But why those 30 seconds of agony, helplessness, anger? And what about the men -- what is their joy from a pinch to the bottom et al? A momentary feeling of giddiness? Power over a woman? Machismo?

It makes me mad.

Incredible India; Malaysia: Truly Asia

2009-07-02T05:38:00.000-07:00

A thin line divides Southeast Asia and South Asia in terms of geography, but other differences are many. While Southeast Asia can boast of several "developed" countries, South Asia, especially India, is still striving for that status, and has not even reach a second world status as of now, if progress is measured by general wellbeing of the populace and not soaring gross domestic product growth figures.

There are many differences between South and Southeast Asia. The latter has better infrastructure, the social structure is quite favorable for women, and poverty is not as severe as many areas in South Asia, barring places like Cambodia and Laos.

India has a long way to go to reach the likes of Singapore and Malaysia as far as infrastructure development goes. Agreed, we have a population problem and a huge country, but if there is money to set up hundreds of statues in Uttar Pradesh for no good reason, spending more than 1,000 crore rupees, then there surely is money to improve the sorry infrastructure of the country, which would in turn better the living conditions of the population of the country.

A country where people are forced to take a bath and defecate in the same river should take immediate and large-scale steps to address the situation. The lack of education in the lower economic classes, which prevents them from demanding and indeed knowing their rights, also needs to be addressed more effectively.

These things are taken care of remarkably in most Southeast Asian countries. Even in rural parts of Malaysia infrastructure is better than the best cities of India. If a fellow tropical country, which has been independent for nearly the same time as India, can have excellent drainage systems for the rains, beautiful roads and highways and full stomachs, one wonders where India went wrong.

It is not that there is no corruption in Southeast Asia. In fact, the locals there are as dismissive of bribes in society as are Indians. In spite of that there is much more development.

The one area where India soars above Southeast Asia, however, is press freedom. Nearly all countries in Southeast Asia, with the exception of Indonesia, have severe constraints on what can be reported and how much the press can criticize that powers that be. This is enforced by draconian laws such as the Internal Security Act in Malaysia where anyone who speaks out against the government can be detained under the pretext of being a threat to national security by stoking disturbance.

It is a tribute to India's plurality that the press here is very free and one can write without fear of retribution.

No country is perfect and neither is ours, but we can definitely make it better by using whatever means available to us. Now if we could only refrain from putting up those statues!

Swine bleh

2009-06-17T02:45:00.000-07:00

India wants US to check outgoing passengers as it is the main source of swine flu infections in India. Yet another classic case of passing the buck.

"Heck, it isn't our fault swine flu infections are on the rise in India, its American inefficiency."

Why should Americans care if there are more cases in India? This is like asking Afghanistan or Pakistan to check travellers to see if there are terrorists coming into India. Only God can help us from these kind of people who just cannot handle anything out of the ordinary and shrug off responsibility at every step.

Potty over Phelps

2009-02-06T04:45:00.000-08:00

Quick post to express my sublime wonder at Michael Phelps' admonishment by the US sports authorities and sponsors. Even Dubya did pot, for heavens sake. It didn't get him booted out of the friggin' Presidency! Now I am no fan of Phelps even though he won tons of medals, but seriously, give the poor guy a break. In these times of financial crises I'd think this is the last thing anyone would care about but apparently not!

SPGs, Nasi Lemak, and all that

2009-01-18T07:33:00.000-08:00

Yes, I know, I have been absent for quite a while. I wonder if anyone will even read this post, because for that they would have to know I still exist in the blogging world!

Late last year I decided to shift base to Malaysia, and although there are tons of things to write about, I just haven't gotten round to it. So this post will attempt to fill in the gap.

My initial reaction when I landed in KL was one of horror. There were just too many obviously-wanting-to-be-picked-up chinky (apols for the stereotype) girls with too many fat, white, i-have-the-money-to-screw-around guys here! It appeared quite sleazy at first, as I was put up in the heart of the city, where all these nefarious activities apparently take place. It took some adjusting to get used to that, and to realise that, really, it was quite avoidable if so desired.

(Btw, I heard these kind of girls, who hang around these local bars waiting to be picked up by whiteys (as the Caucasians are called) are also known as SPGs, aka Sarong Party Girls. Don't ask me what that means.)

So we're past that hurdle. Now, the one thing that Malaysia should be applauded for is the food, glorious food. Lots of cuisine from all over the world, and pretty good stuff. I just love my daily lunch of chicken noodle soup or roti canai or chinese... But the culprit here is Nasi Lemak, the main breakfast dish, which has made me sooper fat (ok, the frequent binges do that too). Nasi Lemak (dreamy eyes) is a sinful concoction that is made up of rice cooked in coconut milk (!!!), served with a kind of anchovies chutney, a fried egg, some veggies and another kind of chutney called sambal. If you are feeling generous why not throw in a piece of amazing redang chicken in there. Droooool. But VERY unhealthy.

Some of my generous colleagues get this breakfast for me and I happy drown in it...

Anyway, to go back to the subject of sleaze, I went out to this club the other day with my girl-friend, and felt that I had never been hit on so freaking many times by such ugly men. Clearly, 30 is fast approaching. So Hello Malaysia, good to meet you! If you want me I'll be drowning my sorrows in strawberry vodka.

Bangalore can't dance, saala! Or can it?

2008-09-18T04:21:00.001-07:00

Many of you may know about the weird, not to mention draconian, law in Bangalore that prohibits dancing -- any kind of dancing, even casual, personal, for fun, whatchamacallit -- in most bars, pubs and nightclubs.

Well guess what? Not all nightclubs enforce it. Yours truly was at a pub recently, and put her "reportergiri" (as a friend calls it) skills to the test.

My eagle eyes saw a bare dance floor initially, and then a brave female started dancing alone. It looked so pathetic. Anyway, I guess booze and frustration spurred others to this brave act, and in no time I could see a packed dance floor with Bangalore folks dancing their guts out.

So later, even in my sufficiently inebriated state, I chatted with the floor manager of that posh nightclub. The afore mentioned manager was asking us to quit the place as it was 11:30 pm. I replied that when dancing isn't allowed, and happens, why was he shooing us out?

"No madam, the cops will come. Even if we bribe them they shut us down because they do that to all the places," he said. I didn't catch his name and even if I had, I wouldn't publish it for fear of certain retribution, ethical journo that I am etc etc. And I didn't ask him why they allowed dancing even with the fear of cop-abuse.

I was just happy to dance, saala.

Bomb-blast Buddies

2008-07-31T04:16:00.000-07:00

It's funny how it takes something like a bomb blast to make some people, who have seemingly forgotten your existence, suddenly stir from their stupor and send you a panicky SMS asking if you are okay. I call these people "bomb-blast buddies" and was quite amused when I received many such texts in the aftermath of the multiple Bangalore bombings.

Can we call such people friends? After all, a friend would want to know about you and you life even in non life-threatening conditions, is it not? But bomb-blast buddies only want to know if you are dead or alive. I really fail to see the point of such purported concern or affection.

Brave New World

2008-04-04T13:58:00.000-07:00

It's 2008. It's a new world. It is a world made worse as we grapple with murder and mayhem in Goa, economic turmoil and a general blahness in the lives of 25-35 year olds going nowhere.

Yes, I know I am back after a long hiatus, and I am still spewing the post-modern shpeil. Pathetic, isn't it? Not anymore than you, buddy.

It seems as if everything that was once cherished is lashing out with a vengeance. Take Goa for instance. I used to love this seaside region, where one could be herself, let her hair down and go wild. No one would bother you. Now, things have totally changed. Men may be thinking, "ah these poor, naked, frightened women, let's go intimidate them!" and viola - hell on earth.

"How are you, honey?" in the sleaziest of manners. Makes me ashamed of being associated with Goa.

Nothing changes for the better, its all becoming worse. Need to be brave in this crazy new world.

Yourpast@TheInternet

2007-12-24T11:07:00.000-08:00

On this merry day of Christmas, as I work at my office, I wonder at how the internet has profoundly changed our lives, loves and everything else.

One thing that particularly strikes me is that with the internet, we preserve links with our past like nothing else. Suppose you fight with a friend, or have a break-up, or any such situation crops up, your chat list still has that person on it, until you explicitly delete them, or make them invisible to yourself so that you are not tempted to shout at them, plead with them, even acknowledge them. Even then, the possibility of adding them back exists.

The internet, you see, makes you mature whether you like it or not, and whether you want it or not. Sooner or later, we realize that holding on to grudges is just not going to work, and there comes a point where looking at that name does not engender any strong feelings. At this point we double-click on that name and reconnect.

For people who we might have added randomly as acquaintances, or vice versa, there may arise a situation in which frequent chats end up bringing us closer with these people, who we once met very fleetingly.

In any case, and in many cases, the internet has acted as a great bringer-togetherer of people. People we kept out of our lives would have vanished into the sands of time, lost forever, by the time we realized it wasn’t so bad to keep in touch with them.

On the other hand, maybe the power of the internet to maintain contact between former cordials is a cause of tension in many relationships, by refusing to sever the ties that once were.

Anonymous Alcoholics

2007-11-20T03:42:00.000-08:00

I really have to thank Sayantani for providing so much fodder for my blog, without which I would be lost for inspiration. Her latest feat is something all her fellow-bloggers will savor with much glee.

You see my friends, Sayantani has resumed drinking. Not water, not juice, not club soda, but the hard core stuff, babies. Scotch on rocks is what I am talking about.

I stumbled upon this information when I ran into a motley group of which our beloved S was also a part, and one of these booze-worshippers told me “Sayantani had booze today, man… rock on…” Needless to say, the first thing I did was to point to the hapless heroine of the day and laugh cruelly.

“I couldn’t resist man… xxx had Glenfiddich (or one of those high end whiskey thingies)… I just had a whiff and I had to have it…” said she, full of mellon-collie. However, the pointing and laughing continued. “Oh man, Sayantani,” I said, “this is going on the blog for sure.”

And it did.

Welcome back, Sayantani. I see you finally realized your folly.

A warning to other mortals: do not displease the gods of booze, because you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Marriage and the art of lifecycle maintenance

2007-11-12T23:38:00.000-08:00

(A post inspired by comments on Shuv’s post)

Sayantani is shit scared of getting married. Shit scared of what, I don’t know. She and her to-be hubby seem to be hitting it off like a house on fire. If someone like that is shit scared of marriage, then it has to be a scary thing. And of course, it is easy to comment from the sidelines.

One of the themes that scares the bejezus out of unmarried folks is the “then what?” syndrome. You decide to get married to someone for whatever reasons (money, security, love– maybe in that order?), and then what? Who is to guarantee that that reason will be sustained over time?

And if my cynical blogger friends are to be believed, ones who have had the ‘pleasure,’ then it will surely be a disappointment. And at the same time everyone – from the reasonably young to the definitely old, married or otherwise, urge one to jump the gun. More like jump the fun.

Oh god I lament the day this institution was created! I wish we didn’t feel it was somehow necessary. I wish we didn’t plan our lives around it. I wish it would go away! I wish people were less cynical about it. I wish people stopped pretending they hate it. I wish Sayantani all the best!

Indestructible

2007-10-21T13:03:00.000-07:00

Nothing is indestructible. Especially where humans are concerned. We can screw up everything, and more often than not we all do. Time is a hazy cloud passing over life like a misty sliver over a mountain slope. Hanging on is the best we can hope for, and live from a precious moment to another. Knowing deep in our hearts that even though the best is yet to come, all good things do come to an end.

The Kindness of Strangers

2007-10-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

Today I savoured, first-hand, the kindness of strangers.

I usually tend to be quite suspicious of unknown men who come to my aid if I am in a sticky situation. I prefer to call a close pal and sort out the deal with him/her around rather than permit or drag a stranger into my predicament.

But today, mankind came together beautifully to rescue me from falling into a hole, literally.

So I think I am the ants’ pants when it comes to driving. I wanted to reverse my car today, and so I turned into a lane to back up, only to find that the lane did not exist in its entirety: there was a big gaping hole bang in the middle of the road. My left tire found that out much to its dismay.

Naturally, I panicked. I didn't know how big the hole was, so I tried to rev the car to push the tire out of the hole, but only succeeded in making a big screeching noise. In despair my hand reached out for my cell phone, when I noticed the amused glance of a man near my window, smoking thoughtfully on a cigarette.

"Put the car in neutral, ma'am," he said, and after that as if by magic some 6-7 men materialized before me and actually raised the car out of the hole and pushed it back on the road, with all four wheels touching the ground.

My profuse thanks were waved away and the men left after a look at me - which I definitely did not grudge them considering the situation.

I fumed about "bloody India" with no sign to warn me about the hole ("this would never happen in the US," I thought at the time), but then I realised that what I had seen was pretty amazing. The way the people selflessly came around to rescue me from my problem in a way compensated for the lack of a sign.

It was another example, I guess, of the kindness of strangers that is the mark of India.

Fireflies

2007-09-24T15:27:00.000-07:00

Coorg gave an entirely different meaning to the phrase: "the woods are lovely, dark and deep..." The estate where we were staying had a most picturesque stream flowing through it, flanked on both sides by dense foliage laced with loads of insects - that failed to terrify. Quite the contrary, actually. And it was not a pathetic excuse of a stream, which some hyped-up things turn out to be, but a completely respectable and impressively long one, cutting across the estate, sometimes rapidly and sometimes lazily.

It reminded me of our weekend excursions in Kashmir, where there was invariably a stream (or at least a body of water) involved - be it in the kids' determined attempt to cross it, or in dishwashing. The water in Coorg was muddier than in Kashmir, as I remarked at the time, resulting in my being told that comparing everything to Kashmir is not good for one's health. What can I do? It's in my blood.

Anyway, if the forest was lush and attractive in the day, it was positively enchanting at night. Walking through a trail along the stream, with the sounds of the water in the background, the forest looked out of a fairytale. There were fireflies dispersed all around, which only added to the magical feeling. Neither can I describe in words, nor do I have a picture to show you of that scene. Suffice it to say that it seemed that in that utter darkness I was in another world completely, where Gollum, the evil one, could have crept up and slipped away with her.

Spreading the Word

2007-09-18T10:47:00.000-07:00

Vote for the Best Act in the World here.

The person who guesses my choice wins a million dollar hotel ;)

By the way, Mel Gibson is an idiot.

Whole lotta heartbreak

2007-09-13T03:56:00.000-07:00

So Led Zeppelin just announced that they are reuniting for what will most probably be their last gig together, and the ticket website has already crashed. On myriad websites we see dire warnings dissuading people from buying tickets from internet auctions sites, as they will be deemed invalid -- the reason being that this will not be 'fair.'

Bollocks, I say. Why cannot the tickets be auctioned? Aren't they entities, like any other product? If I can buy a painting at an auction, why not a ticket? It's not like anyone is stuffing it down my throat -- I am making the decision sanely, with all my senses, not under the influence of any intoxicating agent (I swear!) to maybe overpay for this stairway to heaven.

I may sound like 'daddy's rich girl' (as someone remarked), but I stand by my viewpoint. I say let the tickets be auctioned! And give us poor folks a chance at watching the Gods make heavenly music out of nothing.

Bono on Pavarotti

2007-09-07T18:00:00.000-07:00

Read Bono's tribute to Pavarotti here.

What do I care about opera?

2007-09-06T03:36:00.000-07:00

Pavarotti died today and I am sad. That name is associated with one of the most amazing and haunting songs I have ever heard in my life – Miss Sarajevo – that was a collaboration between U2 and the Italian tenor. I guess if it wasn’t in the guise of a popular music number I would never have got to experience the wonder of Pavarotti’s voice. But the first time I listened to Miss Sarajevo, I was smitten with this bulky, smiling, bearded singer who had a deep, soul-touching voice.

Pavarotti is reported to have said: “We've reached 1.5 billion people with opera. If you want to use the word commercial, or something more derogatory, we don't care. Use whatever you want."

Well said, and may you always rest in peace.

P.S. This is Miss Sarajevo, with the Italian parts translated. There could not be a more haunting or tear-inducing song.

(Bono)
Is there a time for keeping your distance
A time to turn your eyes away
Is there a time for keeping your head down
For getting on with your day

Is there a time for kohl and lipstick
A time for curling hair
Is there a time for high street shopping
To find the right dress to wear

Here she comes
Heads turn around
Here she comes
To take her crown

Is there a time to run for cover
A time for kiss and tell
Is there a time for different colours
Different names you find it hard to spell

Is there a time for first communion
A time for East Seventeen
Is there a time to turn to Mecca
Is there time to be a beauty queen

Here she comes
Beauty plays the clown
Here she comes
Surreal in her crown

(Pavarotti)
Dici che il fiume
Trova la via al mare
E come il fiume
Giungerai a me
Oltre i confini
E le terre assetate
Dici che come fiume
Come fiume...
L'amore giungerà
L'amore...
E non so più pregare
E nell'amore non so più sperare
E quell'amore non so più aspettare

[Translation of the above]

You say that the river
finds the way to the sea
and like the river
you will come to me
beyond the borders
and the dry lands
you say that like a river
like a river...
the love will come
the love...
And I don't know how to pray anymore
and in love I don't know how to hope anymore
and for that love I don't know how to wait anymore

[End of Translation]

(Bono)
Is there a time for tying ribbons
A time for Christmas trees
Is there a time for laying tables
And the night is set to freeze

Released

2007-09-04T02:09:00.000-07:00

No longing
For things old or new
No wistful reveries
No blanked-out thinking…

So this is what it feels like
To be at peace

Just point me to a destination
And have me make my way there
That is enough
To make my troubles disappear.

My first review

2007-08-30T15:30:00.000-07:00

Check out my first restaurant review here.

Purple

2007-08-27T04:43:00.000-07:00

Why is it always “blue”? why can’t we feel golden, pink or brown?

Maybe you are feeling purple right now. A mix of blue and red, of sadness and anger. Can it not be so? Or maybe you are bittersweet – that would be gloomy blue and cheery yellow right? White would be resigned, black would be disgusted, grey would be calm… why not? Why only blue or red or yellow? Surely life isn’t all that primary? Or is it?

The times are a-changin'

2007-08-21T12:57:00.000-07:00

A few days back I went to a very famous Bangalore pub - Purple Haze - obviously named after one of the best rock songs by one of the best rock musicians ever. The place was predictably dingy, with smatterings of what seemed like college kids, all headbanging to the deafening music.

The DJ played all the usual rock songs, from Sabbath to Maiden, with a few unusual ones thrown in - there was a Pearl Jam and U2 pair-up singing "Keep on rocking in the new world" which was pretty good, and one of the less annoying pieces I heard that evening. The other songs, although not really annoying, didn't do much for me. I kept wishing for someone to turn the volume down, and felt a bit ashamed of wishing so. I mean, there was a time, even as near as 1-2 years back, when I would join in the fun, if not fully appreciate the music.

But that day, I just wished for some alternative rock, something that was deep and soulful, and not just mind-numbing.

Contrast this to Dublin - another pub in our city of boiled beans - where the other day I listened to the most amazing music played by a single musician who handled several instruments most deftly (btw I completely lost it when he played Where the Streets Have No Name). Well, the pub was Irish so I was pretty gone in the first place I guess.

Anyway, the point is that I think the days of my being comfortably numb are numbered... no pun intended.

Guavas on the roadside

2007-08-17T05:21:00.000-07:00

I saw a man walking amongst the cars a traffic signal today, selling guavas he had in a basket. I was on my way back home, after a movie and a marathon shopping session.

Now this guy was pretty well dressed, considering that he was selling the cheapest of fruits. A good, clean shirt - no tatters that one usually sees and expects at these lights. I wondered how this guy makes ends meet, so to speak. I mean, even if he makes 100 rupees on a good day, and assuming there all days in a month are good, this man makes around 3000 rupees a month - an amount I might blow up in a single shopping spree (as I did today) or in a night out at the pub.

I am sorry if I am boring you with the same old economic disparity litany, but it struck me at that moment that we have become so used to these terms and their manifestations in "real life" that we have become quite blind to them, and even get irritated when these things are brought up, as "this is not the only India that is."

But I have a funny feeling that it really is this for the most part.

On Music

2007-08-05T10:48:00.000-07:00

So many musical posts.. how could I be left behind?

Music truly is my aeroplane. It is the one husband that will never leave you, the one boyfriend that will never dump you, the one friend who will never betray you. Dramatic, I know, but true. Gypsy just mentioned her 10 defining songs... For me, it really is U2. That band has really defined me and mirrored my life in many ways. Starting with One and now to Staring at the sun... it's all come full circle.

But I don't want to even give U2 much importance. Things you invest a lot in have a way of screwing you over.

So, I say "thank you for the music," but I think I'll manage.

Intermission

2007-07-25T17:28:00.000-07:00

Stab
In the back
You thought it was over, you fool
Here it is again
You thought they meant well
Well think again
You thought you had nothing to lose
You've lost nothing again

Why me, dear creature, why me?

2007-07-19T17:15:00.000-07:00

I am a creature magnet.

Nothing can bring home this fact more strongly than entering your house one fine morning after a hard night’s work and finding a huge, live bat circling madly around your living room.

This was the situation in which I found myself today, and I let out a yelp and ran down to get the watchman.

The poor man was still groggy with sleep, what with it being some 5:15 am, and as I cowered in a corner he proceeded to drive the bat out of my house. We thought it went into the kitchen (where it probably entered from, that sadistic open window), so I shut that door and the guard went away, probably cursing me in his mind for disturbing his morning beedi.

I breathed a sigh of relief and entered my bedroom, and switched on the light. Staring me in the face was the grinning bat. I could have killed it had I remained in that place a minute longer. With shaking hands I opened my apartment door and called out for the guard yet again.

By the time the guard came up to my floor, the bat had proceeded from the bedroom to the living room (at least it had good manners). Finally the guard, with the help of my beloved woollen scarf, managed to drive the culprit out.

I was drained. My encounters with creepy crawlies are the stuff legends are made of. Recently, at the Aerosmith concert, a spider attempted to scale the peak that is my back.

There has to be a deeper meaning to this. I have a sneaky suspicion that some superheroes are missing women in the workplace, and want to recruit me as the new batwoman or spiderwoman. Maybe I should listen to the underlying message?

Tintin in the bin? Not "fair"

2007-07-11T11:27:00.000-07:00

I just came across a news item in which a racism watchdog (Commission for Racial Equality) asked bookstores to remove the Tintin comicbook "Tintin in the Congo" from their shelves as it promotes racial stereotypes and shows Africans as "monkeys and imbeciles."

Ok, so let me get this straight. This UK-based group wants to regulate artistic expression. Can I not then argue that this Western group is threatening the right to free expression? When we see Dilbert jokes on manic managers, do we actually think that all our managers are moronic idiots (we may, but I am hoping not ALL of them are). In any case, I am really puzzled by this lack of judgement in the organization.

Contrast this to the Big Brother show, where the third-party interference of Oxfam was justified. Articulated abuse intended to hurt should definitely be punished. But unintended racial stereotyping is surely condonable.

If everything is censored, no one will feel free enough to satirize anything, and we all will be the losers.

Trust in the time of Terror: Updated

2007-07-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

Recently, my bai (read: maid) stopped coming to my apartment for her daily chores (for which I pay her 500 rupees, or about 12.5 USD per month, but that is a separate story). Her name was Lakshmi, and I wondered, without much emotion, on her disappearance.

Anyhow, I didn't think too much for too long, these disappearances being a way of life in urban India. I "headhunted" for another maid to fill the vacancy, without any fiscal trouble to myself. (Heh I love this crappy jargon).

This new lady who cleans for me, I don't even know her name yet. I mean, in this day and age, is this a pragmatic thing for a single gal like me?

I think not.

But somehow, I cannot be distrustful of her cheerful face when she comes in and starts breaking my glasses while washing them carelessly, eliciting groans. I just burrow my face into my pillow and try to drown out the clanging, swishing and slopping that miraculously transforms my flat into a respectable and habitable area.

When my neighbors tell me I am overpaying her, I look at them in disbelief. I am sure those freako software or finance guys are making a bomb, much more than a poor journo like me, but they are mean enough to tell me to cut the salary of my maid WHO MAKES FREAKING 12.5 DOLLARS A MONTH! What should I do? Cut 50 cents? For Chrissakes!

Anyway, rant apart, I have no idea if this woman might not suddenly plunge a knife into my back or rig up my gas cylinder to blow up just as I take a leak, but somehow I cannot doubt her intentions that far. The only thing that concerns me is the frequency of glass-breakage in the house, which is rising alarmingly. Please pray for me lest I have to guzzle the magic potion directly from the bottle.

I recently found out that my new maid's name is Padma. Padma-Lakshmi... made me snicker.

Kaushik's nudge

2007-07-03T09:45:00.000-07:00

Kaushik nudged me out of my bloggy slumber today, wondering where on earth I seem to have disappeared. My lovely blog people, I am very much here; it's just that I seem to be grappling with a solid lack of inspiration. Or maybe I am just growing old: I keep coming across ideas to write about in my blog but keep forgetting them! Talk about eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.

One idea that I vaguely remember was borne out of a conversation with a friend, in which we compared men witn bras (yes, really), about how it is hard to find either that fits well. Oh well. Too bad you will not be regaled with that talk on the blog. (Now now Shuv that's no reason to go hack your computer down with an axe!)

But this blog thingy is really a pressure machine man. One cannot simply vanish and not write. (Actually one can but then where is the much-needed distraction from the daily plod called life?)

In other recent news, Gypsy has again inspired me put on my travelling chappals. So here I am, sitting in office, supposedly working, while I surreptitiously find out that 1 Czech Koruny = 2 Indian Rupees.

Revolutionizing A Life

2007-06-07T16:11:00.000-07:00

Jump!
Jump, frog,
Out of the boiling water
Be glad for this scald
For though it hurts at the moment
They didn't quietly,
Stealthily
Sneak you in
Plopped you in the tepid water
Lighting a flame underneath
Subjecting you, frog
To a slow and certain death.

The time is now.
Jump!

Bittersweet Beverages

2007-05-30T11:14:00.000-07:00

It seems everything begins and ends with alcohol these days. I get up in the morning, go to work, where there is no work, and leave after a sync with other people with hollow lives, and dilute myself in booze.

Not everyone who comes there is aimless and stateless. But everyone with nothing more important than time on their hands will surely be there at the earliest, and for the longest.

So we go there, to toast others' joys publicly and bemoan our sorrows privately, all the while sporting a smile or at least a grimace. And at times alcohol produces that transient honesty that lets out a drop of inner angst gnawing at us.

It is for this release that I worship that beauty called booze.

Who wrote this?

2007-05-10T12:54:00.000-07:00

You look into my eyes
We look at each other
We laugh, talk about trivialities
We both know what's going on

You don't know what lies beneath
A rocky road trampled underfoot
Is it the same with you, I wonder?
I have a feeling it is so

My Small, Clumsy Kashmiri Poem

2007-04-27T15:07:00.000-07:00

Vadun
Vadun chum yivan
Kyah gav zindagi-yas
Ninder cham na yivan
Aosh chum vasaan
Kyah kar, chum n fikri taran.

The Devil Within

2007-04-16T14:28:00.000-07:00

I never thought I would be the kind of person who would make friends through the internet, considering I spend significant time ridiculing online marriage matches and date-fixing. But since I have been told time and again that one should have an open mind and the proof of the pudding is in the eating and you should try everything once and blah blah blah… it’s been a pleasant change to find actually sane people at the other end of that URL.

Well, maybe sane is not completely accurate (and we sure value accuracy here, dontcha know), but you could call the bunch of us being “wired right.”

Social connections are a weird thing; I have come closer to many people I meet almost everyday because of the people I meet virtually (literally and figuratively) everyday. What a pleasant change from visions of raving lunatic rapists and murderers that invariably seem to be lurking in the ghostly patterns of the Web.

I Tag Myself... Musically

2007-04-05T14:01:00.000-07:00

Of all the bands and artists in your collection, of which one do you own the most albums? U2.

What was the last song you listened to? Nelly Furtado - Say it Right

What’s in your CD player right now? Rahul Sharma’s Time Traveller

What are your favorite instruments? Piano, drums

Who’s your favorite local artist/band? Hmm… none. In Pune I guess Switch and Airwave

What was the last show you attended? Iron Maiden

What was the greatest show you’ve ever been to? None! It’ll happen one of these days. It’s got to be U2.

What’s the worst band you’ve ever seen in concert? Some local band

What band do you love musically but hate the members of? GnR I guess.

What is the most musically involved you have ever been? Failed vocal lessons when I was a kid (can’t carry a tune for anything!) After that I restricted myself strictly to *listening*.

What show are you looking forward to? U2, whenever it happens.

What is your favorite band shirt? U2.

What musician would you like to hang out with for a day? Bono

What musician would you like to be in love with you for a day? Bono

What was your last musical "phase" before you wised up? None that I can remember... oh wait! Yeah I actually bought a boy-band album when I was in my teens. No, I’m not telling you which!

Sabbath or solo Ozzy? None!

Did you know that filling out this meme makes you a music geek? Yes'm.

What was the greatest decade for music? The 60’s or 70's, hard to choose

What is your favorite movie soundtrack? The Saint.

Who is your favorite artist who is much better live than on a recording? No idea... none I think!

Do you have a hidden desire to be a popular musician? Umm. Yes.

Have you ever used drugs to enhance the music experience? Nope. I stay away from drugs to enhance it heh.

What was the last song you heard that gave you a chill? "Say it right", Nelly Furtado.

Where would you be without music? Can't imagine that... I'd be dead.

Ode to June

2007-04-02T03:25:00.000-07:00

June...
Pretty little white angel
Smocked frock, electric locks
Big wide brown-black eyes
Arms wide open like the endless skies

When you embrace me I am touched
In a vague mysterious way

June...
Bonny and slight
You may seem
But you've a power over me
Beyond belief.

(p.s. I was going to write something like: June, your eyes are like the moon but then I realised that a) it's too trite and b) it doesn't really make sense.)

OMG OMG OMG

2007-03-30T09:53:00.000-07:00

Whee!! :)

I'm only happy when it's Goa

2007-03-30T07:18:00.000-07:00

I have never been unhappy in Goa.

Is there a first time for everything? I hope not. I have had enough - fights, misunderstandings, pain - enough disappointments to last a lifetime.

And as Jim Carey says, tonight: it's my turn.

Goa's gonna be simply fabulous, as it always has been. Goa will never let you down. Goa will always be there for you.

It's one trip where the destination is more important the journey... In all my other trips its the journey that turns out to be fulfilling. But this time, its time for sun, sand and King beer.

Eat your heart out, shuv.

Simple

2007-03-26T07:23:00.000-07:00

"Friendship ends in the same mysterious way in which it begins. It simply happens."

Cheers to life, eh?

Not on your life!

2007-03-21T05:52:00.000-07:00

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Knot in this life

2007-03-15T14:42:00.000-07:00

To think I assumed that only older people at bro's wedding would want to talk about marriage.

Marriage, it seems, is in the air. At least the perennial talk about it.

AA comes down from Buffalo, and 80 percent of the conversation with him consists of marriage woes. We talk about how we are neither here nor there, not modern enough to, ahem, **** around, nor traditional enough to marry someone after meeting them once.

I guess there is no set formula though. For those of us who want relationships before marriage, it is that eternal trap: what if it doesn't work out? How many relationships are going to crumble, and do we have the time (and energy!) to watch our life waste away in front of us, yet again?

GK writes from Manchester: find me a pretty subcontinental girl. Apparently our Western friends are also not much better-off than us, if they are also considering "arranged marriage."

Seems like we are doomed to never have our perfect partners, even if we find them.

Everybody says: Marry me

2007-03-09T15:24:00.000-08:00

Marry me. He said.
LOL, She replied.
Him: Yeah, that's what I always get... LOL.
Her: Shut up. I do not want a relationship ever. It spoils everything.
Him: :)

Another marriage laugh:
Another "He" said, What have you thought about marriage?
She said: I have no plans.
Him: Oh crap. Then what'll happen to me?
Her: Yeah that is always there...
Him: Yikes! I'm in reserve... Wrong answer!

Still Standing

2007-02-21T07:43:00.001-08:00

So I guess it isn't as Neanderthal as I thought it was going to be in this place. The Internet actually works uninterrupted for more than 15 minutes! There MUST be a God. So that's how I am back to blogging.

Anyhow, themes of the week so far:

1. Concert + Wedding (a week later) = It was meant to be.
2. Guinness book of world records entry for the number of times one is asked to get married
3. Red hair + Salwaar Kameez = Newest eligible chick on the block and drooling uncles

I love my family.

Aura

2007-02-19T21:00:00.000-08:00

The bolts of cloth I touch
The decorations
The lunches and dinners
The joy all around me
Everything - even the happiness I feel
Is tinged with sadness.

I'll be gone 'til... March

2007-02-16T09:46:00.000-08:00

...So don't give up on me people! I am going to the 'omtown, and might not post with any regularity for the coming two weeks.

Keep dropping in tho, for some stale refreshment.

--Scout

Happy Halventines Day

2007-02-15T11:24:00.000-08:00

Yeah, that is what NK calls Valentine's, and this year it had an apt significance, as anyone who understands Hindi or Marathi can tell. I personalize the greeting as "Crappy V Day", which kinda sums it up for me anyway.

I "celebrated" it in, as AG put it, typical Bridget Jones fashion: cooking lunch for a couple of girl-friends: pasta, sandwiches and cake (OK so RP bought the cake, the others I made!). AS brought me lovely bright flowers, and we watched Sex and the City together.

A most enjoyable afternoon, better than lonely times and imagined loves.

Red-head blues

2007-02-08T12:42:00.000-08:00

When I started behaving in the typical red-head way I had to start wondering if it really wasn't the new color of my hair that was driving the manic behavior. Not that usually I am your quintessential understanding, "nice" girl, but post-colouring I became even more irritable than usual. Thankfully most of my ire was directed towards unknown people, so I didn't burn any bridges, just dented some bumpers.

It got me thinking about whether the way we look has an effect on our behavior. Do some nice looking gals sometimes act cute and bubbly and clueless because some unconscious, social habit says they are supposed to?

Kind-of on the same lines, I recently saw a poster about "saving the world" featuring bald, handsome man of indeterminate color, kinda light brown, with a serene look on his face. Why, pray, was he chosen? Can't people with more life in them "save the world"?

More importantly, if looks do mean something, should I expect that my temper is only going to get hotter? God forbid, and people, stay away else risk being scorched.

Another Conversation

2007-01-30T15:38:00.000-08:00

Tum kidhar se ho ma?

Jammu Kashmir.
.
.
.
Aur tum? Kerela se ho?

Nahin ma.. Tumkur tumhe pata hai?

Haan haan... Par tumhara husband Sabrimala gaya tha?

Haan, voh bhakt hai.
Oh accha.
.
.
.
Tumhara husband kya karta hai?

Auto chalata tha, bhade pe, ab nahin hai. Doosre ne le liya.

Oh.
.
.
.
Tumhari shaadi kab ma?

(Mutters) Kabhi nahin.
(Laughs) Abhi nahin.
Abhi bhaiya ki hai.

Oh voh bhaiya hai?

Haan. (Chuckles)

Life in Monotone

2007-01-24T12:17:00.000-08:00

"I'm bored man... of life in monotone."

RP asked to be credited for this, rightly. As for using her initials, she said:

"then u might as well say my name right?"

But when I told her I usually use people's pseudonyms or initials she deferred:

"it cud be rustom potliwala or something."

Something Amusing

2007-01-23T15:21:00.000-08:00

I am too busy to write, so I shall direct you to others who amuse me.

Everyone wants everything.

2007-01-15T07:52:00.000-08:00

In Praise of Older Women

2007-01-12T06:06:00.000-08:00

“The difference between being young and being older is that when you’re young you think it won’t happen to you; when you’re older you think that it might.”

Read the article, all you older women you. Others too.

I am Temperance

2007-01-11T04:35:00.000-08:00

I actually went to this website, and found out that I am temperance. It's funny, but that does not surprise me. Not to say that I believe in tarot (I currently consider myself agnostic), but in what the card said about me, the dichotomy I am supposed to embody.

I suppose it's easy for me to believe that I am extreme: I need to "temper" myself. But the tarot disclaimer also remarks that I CAN reconcile seemingly opposing views. Whatever!

You are Temperance

Time. Ages. Transformation. Involuntary change

Temperance is another card of aspiration, but also of much change. It often
represents complex situations. Positively, you can harmonize contrary
forces.

Temperance is, on a surface level, about "tempering." The original pouring from cup to cup might have been about cutting wine with water. So this is a card about moderation. There is, however, another angle to the card, that of merging seemingly impossible opposites. Sagittarius, the centaur, merges beast and man into a unique creature. And then there is the bow and arrow, one moving, one stationary, working together to point the way. Temperance may be, at first glance, a warning for you to "temper" your behavior, to cut your wine with water. But it may also be a reminder to that seemingly irreconcilable opposites may not be irreconcilable at all. Belief that fiery red and watery blue cannot be merged may be the only thing standing in the way of blending the two. Change the belief, measure out each with care, and you can create otherworldly violet.

The year that was

2007-01-03T10:02:00.000-08:00

January -
- 2005 Goa New Year celebrations extended into this month
- 4 months old in my “new” job

February -
- Mom came over, took care of us!

March -
- Went to Sydney – a good trip

April -
- went to Pune for an engagement (that ended in disaster, but that’s a different story)
- went to Pondicherry and Coorg

May -
- Nothing significant

June -
- Birthday celebrations

July -
- Went home and to Amritsar – an amazing trip

August -
- C came over from Pune. Got drunk and had a generally good time with her

September -
- Bro’s engagement; went to Bombay, had a good time with friends
- Went to Pune for recruitment and whirlwind trip

October -
- Went to Delhi for some weddings
- Promotion to specialist at job!

November -
- NK, B came over from Pune, had a good time with them

December -
- Calcutta trip – which I have already documented as amazing
- Went to Pune for NK’s wedding
- Had a quiet new year’s celebration at a friend’s place where I met Tom Alter’s son!

Point to Ponder

2006-12-28T10:06:00.000-08:00

"If you are a good person, if you have a good heart, you don't have to be nothing but yourself."

Stop 'bug'ging me

2006-12-21T07:31:00.000-08:00

I know I am posting trivial stuff, but S! is responsible for this one. You bongs...

His latest post reminded me of my much-coveted car, which I am not going to get in the near future for sure, a Volkswagen beetle (bug).
Here's its pic; oh the pain!

Bye bye Warnie...

2006-12-21T04:55:00.000-08:00

Check out this article on the BBC, Shane Warne is retiring. And I am feeling funny! How wierd is that?? And how wierd is my stupid feeling of glee that he regarded Sachin Tendya (and Brian Lara) as his most worthy competitors.

Guess I DO like cricket.

Mishti and Macchi

2006-12-19T08:04:00.000-08:00

Shuv says to write about Bengali food, so I do.

It all started one muggy morning in Kolkata, when we were asked whether we wanted breakfast. And what was for breakfast, we asked, innocent as lambs. Samosa and jalebi, came the reply.

We were shocked, to say the least. Coming from the land of hot sambar and idly, or parantha, or simply bread and butter, we couldn't fathom how one could have fried potatoes and a syrupy, albeit scrumptious, sweet early in the morning.

We turned it down. Our server, wringing his hands, didn't like it that we were so lukewarm about the famous Bengali breakfast (I wish I could tell him now that finally we DID sample it and, although pure sin, it was delicious). So we were brought some "mishti", or sweets.

Roshogulla and shondesh from the neighboring sweet shop.

I gotta tell ya, I have never had such an amazing roshogulla in my entire life. I mean, it was mindblowing. I think it was not made with sugar, but with jaggery, and even in the rest of our stay we were unable to find a comparable roshogulla. It was the best Bengali sweet I have ever had in my life. Even today I reminisce with R n' B about the wonder that was that sweet. Of course, we followed this introduction with an extended bout of trying out different kinds of sweets, which left me with a bellyache.

And the fish.. I am not a big fish eater, but it was delectable. Soft and juicy, cooked in the typical Bengali style... I couldn't get enough of it. Rice and fish have never tasted better. Our Sundarbans guide made it a point of stuffing us with food, and I gobbled down the fish like there was no tomorrow.

The post would be incomplete without a mention of the famous Calcutta rolls. I had an egg roll in the Lake Market and it was without doubt the best I have ever had in my life, in the history of my eating rolls. You bongs sure know what you are talking about when it comes to food.

We also made the obligatory trip to Flury's: it was a bit la-dhi-dha, with the sax and the retro songs and so forth. But my peach Danish with scrambled eggs and bacon, and the amazing hot chocolate, was enough to dispel my condescension.

Bengal was a culinary delight; there's tons more I can write about Bengali food. But for now let us just cap it off with a Calcutta mitha paan!

"Oiled" boars

2006-12-11T12:06:00.000-08:00

I was in a photo-snapping frenzy on the way to the Sundarbans (Shundorbons?), as if I didn't get enough of snapping at office. R n' B were befuddled at this, so let me put this in print: I deleted the damn snaps! Only the unmemorable ones of course.

It was awesome. I can safely say that that was the best leg of the trip. The immensity of the waters and the density of the mangroves (pun intended) was astounding. Add to that the luxury of having a whole boat (the tour operator called it a "launch") to yourself, and you get pure bliss and oblivion.

On the first day we roamed about our island (ours as we were going to stay there in a lodge) - Sajnekhali or something similar - saw a baby croc, TONS of monkeys, deer and (ooh this is exciting) birds. No sign of the bloody tiger, except in the shop we went to later on which had him on the pic. To be honest, the first day yours scaredyly was quite petrified at the thought of coming face to face with a tiger, but by the next day something changed in me that made me want to really really see one.

Anyhow, after a tour of "our" island, we went for an evening boat ride to the other side - the beginning of civilization.

It was fabulous to see the sun set in the largest delta in the entire world. "Is this the Ganga?" I asked. No, said our trusty tour guide, naming some local river. "But surely it is the Ganga and the Bhramaputra mixed together right?" Vigorous nod of the head. Also amazing was the night sky: not a building in sight and virtually no artificial light... Half the time I was walking with my head tilted 180 degrees backwards.

On the other side of the Sundarbans - of the world it seemed - we proved how firmly consumerish we are. We fell for the pitches and bought some stuff.

The next day we tried hard to catch a glimpse of a tiger, but it sure didn't burn bright for us. I was actually over my fear and looking forward to the meeting face to face. There ain't room for the both of us in the 'bans. (Now before Menaka Gandhi decides to sue me I want to say I am kidding). We saw spotted deer, a water monitor lizard and in a frenzied moment, some "oiled" boars that we mistook for tigers. Actually we still aren't sure about what we saw swimming in the water that day.

An extended tour of the mangroves, almost to the mouth of the Bay of Bengal, wrapped up an absolutely humbling and enthralling experience. I left all my thoughts behind and it was a great feeling.

Oh about the "oiled" boars... it's not that they rub on lotion to go laze in the sun. Like many Bengalis, our guide was having trouble pronouncing the "W" in wild... and it took us a little time to figure it out. :)

Park Street Blues

2006-12-09T04:31:00.000-08:00

We wanted to go see the cemetery at Park Street, the same one that was written about in A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth's book that I loved. R and B (heh) were getting late for their respective destinations, so I was left alone for the visit. I told myself there was no way I would go inside by myself if it was too spooky, and would content myself with a picture.

I reached the cemetery at just over four in the afternoon. It was amazing. I didn't feel a single ounce of fear, and the atmosphere was simply breathtaking. Maybe it was all in my head, but the cemetery somehow seemed far far away from any hustle-bustle; it did not seem like it was right next to the honking cars on Park Street. I took a quiet walk there, along the myriad criss-crossing paths in the cemetery. Britishers, who died in the 1900s, 1800s and even 1700s were buried there, in tombs unlike any others I had ever seen in my life. Huge cement structures under which entire families could shelter in the rain, sword-like tombs, pillars, and the smaller, poorer ones. Doctor of the insane hospital was interred with his wife; mothers, judges were among the ashes and the dust.

I could feel Lata and Amit walking in the lane, in that most surreal of surroundings.

A for Orange

2006-12-09T04:21:00.000-08:00

It's the last day in Kolkata. I could cry. Yes, I am calling it Kolkata and not Calcutta as I had obstinately been doing before. I feel the bong-bond now. A is O. It's not Gariahat, its Goriahat. Its not Sandesh, it's Shondesh.

I feel unable to write about my experiences in Bengal. I covered quite a bit: from Shantiniketan to the Sundarbans, very close to Bangladesh. And of course Cal, with the big yellow taxis plying the streets like manic buzzing bees.

Let me start with my first in the bong series, called Park Street Blues.

Travel Therapy

2006-11-29T04:54:00.000-08:00

The time has come to be gone, as Led Zep said. It's time to ramble on, and I can't wait. East India, unknown to me, beckons, and my feelings can be summed up in three small words: I can't wait! Maybe that's four words there but anyway.

While there is the inherent excitement of getting to see a new place, it is accentuated by the fact that I have tons of bong (read: Bengali) friends, and Cal has been totally hyped by them. Now it better live up to its reputation!

In any case, there promises to be revelry (a friend getting married), adventure (Sundarbans and tigers) and culture (Shantiniketan, Rabindra Sangeet and what not) in the trip. What more could one ask for?

More on Cal when I return.

The best day ever?

2006-11-22T12:51:00.000-08:00

So I randomly landed at Emma's blog, and found out that my birthday is the official American Ice Cream Soda Day. Neat huh?

Just imagine, 2 days later and I'd be sailing in National Chocolate Eclair Day land. Boo hoo.

For more details go to Emma's post here.

Medical Matters

2006-11-13T15:26:00.000-08:00

She lay in the hollow white tube, just her head jutting out like an unwanted protuberance. Above her the smooth, white GE machine glowed eerily, emitting staccato sounds like masala being ground. Thud-thud thud-thud... She glared at the machine, which suddenly, as if in a response, shuddered and started emitting wierder sounds, as if there was a rock musician in the huge apparatus. Or a demon, bent on driving sense out of one's mind as he clanged inside, laughing as he looked at the helpless patient, arms clutched tightly around herself, willing herself to quell the rising panic inside.

Good in small doses

2006-09-28T15:26:00.000-07:00

Mumbai, or Bombay, as I prefer to call it, is great. Sure, it is dirty, crowded, hot, sweaty - all the works, but all the same, it is THE big city in India. Delhi got too unwieldly to be a city so they made it a state; Bangalore lacks the vision and openness inherent in the Bombay culture, and Pune is still suffering from the younger-brother syndrome because of its proximity to the great city.

It was interesting, to meet different people there: on one hand those that had "made it" in Bombay, the established marketers, IIM grads, hotshot media people, and on the other, struggling writers, economists and such like, biding their time in the crazy maze of the city.

The traffic was crazy: I could see cars lined all the way along Peddar Road while I sat with AG in a taxi in the hot and humid sun. My sentiments were echoed in Sacred Games, Vikram Chandra's new book about Bombay which reads more like a Ram Gopal Verma film than a much-anticipated Mumbai-book.

Cafe Mondegar made it all good with its jukebox where we requested All I Want Is You to cap off a most pleasant afternoon.

But I wouldn't trade in Bangalore for Bombay - I think I have gotten too used to the small-town life now to swim in the ocean anymore...

Lemon

2006-09-15T11:08:00.000-07:00

"I feel
Like I'm slowly slowly slowly slipping under
I feel
Like I'm holding on to nothing"

Today is NZ's birthday, so I called her in the morning, China time, in one of my insomniac fits. Our lives, lies and loves seem to run in parallel, even though we're not constantly in touch.

Both of us lament the lack of openness in our "Eastern" cultures, both of us are misfits, both uncompromising. Maybe that is why we both are unfit for life in the East. At least that's what we feel.

I wonder if we are like those Westerners so easy to spot in the Orient, who feel that they are meant to be here. I think we are more like them than the other Easterners who migrate abroad, to seek a better life or more money. It is much more than that for NZ and me, and I say that without any pretense.

Maybe it is our fault that we do not feel that we can have the freedom we long for here. After all, a person should be strong enough not to care what society thinks about them. But I guess we are not. In this society where everything is frowned upon, I feel it will be hard for us to be that self-assured.

Hopefully life will turn out to be more than a lemon.

Tattoos and lamb kebabs

2006-09-10T02:50:00.000-07:00

The other day I was out with VT, SM and R at 1912, a nice place here in namma Bengaluru. Music could be helped though, starting out retro (Karma Chameleon??) and finishing off hip-hop (Daddy Yankee - can't help but snigger whenever I say that...).

Anyhow, that isn't the point of the story. So SM asked me where she could get a tattoo from, and VT and I pointed her to several tattoo parlours here. The main discussion though was about what to get tattooed, and where. I'll leave the "where" part to your collective imaginations, and get to the "what" part.

I am vacillating (and guys, PLEASE don't steal this, although I realise imitation is the highest form of flattery) between a kite and my initials in Hindi, or the Chinese word for "rain", which incidentally is the meaning of my name. Or just keeping the skin bare. SM wants a sun with "squiggly rays", and some abstract spiral thingy. Then I asked VT, over a plate of lamb kebabs, what design he was planning to get.

He wants to get a "P" tattooed over his shoulder, which is incidentally the initial of his girlfriend's first name. I was floored. What a lucky girl P is. Reminded me of the Italian footballer Fabio, who has his wife Andrea's name tattooed on his arm. I mean, do these women realise how lucky they are? Have no doubt: VT's estimation in my eyes rose a hundred-fold.

When will someone get my name, or initials, or anything referring to me tattooed on his body, I wonder? Somehow I despair.

Am I real?

2006-09-06T12:05:00.001-07:00

Meeting so many "actual" journalists has me in a tizzy... Here I am, comfortably ensconced in my air-conditioned office with my eyes glazed from looking at too many press releases, and there are my fellow journalists, slogging their asses off in the wilderness that is actual journalism. Am I really a journalist? I don't really know. And with the one-line journalism that I mostly practise, I really am at a loss to figure it out.

I want to WRITE! Really, really write. Know what I am talking about. I don't know, maybe I am being too hard on myself. Or maybe.. I overestimate myself. When it really comes down to it, I might just get up in a huff and say, "Crap, so much work!" Maybe I like my cushy job, easy to do and to forget about. I have just been working for 2 years, and am already thinking about when in my life I can take time out to do the things I really want to do.

Maybe I am thinking about too many opportunities lost. But still, life is good, or more aptly, could be worse.

Stressettes of the world: Unite!

2006-08-15T12:11:00.000-07:00

Wading through reams of useless news releases, we chanced upon a really funny one in the newsroom the other day: I forget the exact wording of the release, but in essence it was about a survey done (where else) in the US, and the startling (?) results thereof.

Many women felt that they were a victim of the "Stressette" syndrome, that in modern society, a woman has to be "hot" and desirable as well as successful and independent. Why the two are supposed to be mutually exclusive is beyond me. Or maybe it is not such an implication (let me clarify before a dozen fingers point at me); maybe it is just a self-imposed pressure on women.

If so, they deserve it! All this "stressette" bullshit is just that: bullshit. And personally, I haven't met many women who are so concerned about fulfilling others' expectations, if they do exist. I wonder how this "survey" was done; maybe there is a cultural difference that I cannot quite fathom.

Anyway, if anything, being a successful stressette is a compliment: a woman capable enough to handle both her looks and her career is a winner all the way.

Ten Years Gone

2006-07-21T09:53:00.000-07:00

Recently I went to Jammu and met some old classmates. We were together till our 10th standard, in St. Mary's Presentation Convent High School, Jammu (Girls school, mind you). After that, all of us went our separate ways, so to speak, and only the magic that is orkut brought us back together again.

It was funny to see how we had all changed, or not changed. Some bitchiness still remained, some hesitancy had evaporated, some reconciliations made. A lot of gossip about who'd had a baby (or babies!) and who'd eloped, was exchanged.

What I felt was, in the 10 or so years that have gone by, I still feel like a teenager. But it sure was good to catch up on old times. God bless technology!

Time is Standing Still

2006-07-13T11:05:00.000-07:00

After a year filled with travels (Goa, Australia, Pondicherry, Coorg, Amritsar and Jammu), why do I still feel I am going nowhere?
Enlighten me!

Birthday Fishes

2006-06-21T11:13:00.000-07:00

What was remarkable about yesterday was not only that it was yours truly's birthday, but the sheer number of phone calls and wishes that I got. I mean, I must be really old to know so many people! :)

Then there were the gifts, of course, ever loved; and to be honest, where M saved the day with cake and flowers. And a handbag. Followed by Ms. S, who came up with a "birthday letter", as opposed to a birthday card, which is reproduce here with permission, and which, I assure you, is eminently entertaining and touching.

"We've come a long way, since the day you plopped down on my desk and introduced yourself with a smile. Past horrible bosses, co-workers we'd give our right arm to shoot, crazy parties at Hypnos and Zero G, where you were asked to table-dance, and we couldn't go upstairs as A & A were making out.

Good years, overall, and lots of good memories. Random talks over beers and coffee, splurging on books and music, having hysterics over U2, Sting and blueberry cheese cake...

Stay the same, don't change... No one is 'that' worth it :) Have a blast, live life to the hilt, and we will be there beside you, to make it even more memorable, we promise. LOL.

Lots of love, luck and laughter,
S"

Topped off with Malu's quintessential "Malu" wish:

"May the best of your past be the worst of your future."

Thanks, guys. You made my day :)

Another year, another rupee

2006-06-16T10:05:00.000-07:00

So yet another birthday next week.. Celebration, I hope. Sent out the party invite to some friends, but no acknowledgement as yet... But I am still hopeful: May the party be a success. Am also planning a party on the weekend so that many friends who work nights can come over. So don't feel left out, you guys.

Feels a bit wierd to write about my own birthday, but what the hell. Strangely (?) I am not feeling the weight of the years, rather I'm quite excited about my birthday. Cards and wishes from parents and a friend contributed to the feeling, I guess. Thank ye kindly. Can't wait for the party to begin... :)

Sickness and Health

2006-06-09T04:36:00.000-07:00

Have been reading a lot of stuff related to Christainity lately, as I am sure are you guys. I was wondering why Indians are not vehemently either godly or otherwise. Whereas whenever I read about foreigners, in this case mostly westerners, I feel there is a tendency to extremism: a fervent rejection of faith, or an equally, and mostly more feverish, tendency towards it.

I guess Indians who are Hindu by birth (I mean the "normal", educated ones, not the SS or VHP ones) do grow up with religion, but it is not imposed on us. We are not asked to do what is right because of a fear of hell; rather, we are told to do the right thing because it is the right thing to do. So when we "grow up", and know that we are well within our rights to question everything under the sun, we do not abandon the things we are taught contemtuously with the view that we don't care if it sends us to hell, like the sinning Christians who have sex before marriage or blaspheme.

Even if we decide to not "believe", it is somehow a milder form of rebellion than westerners. I especially feel that the concept of "hell", taken so literally, is the main cause of many feelings of ill will towards religion and against it. How can something so unknowable evoke such profound reactions, beliefs and prejudices in people?

It seems ironic to me that the west, known to be individualistic, is totally not so when it comes to religion. Not going to church is an activity noted by society, and may brand one in some way as irreligious, an unbeliever, and maybe immoral and dishonest. I don't really know. Whereas at least in India, "worshipping" is a much more personal thing, with people going to temples usually alone, and praying in solitude. Those who do not go to temples are not branded immoral or irreligious. Maybe I am mistaken and there is a shift in western attitudes now. The evolution debate in the US surely suggests otherwise, though.

Btw, I am not religious in the least, just reading a lot of Dan Brown and Frank McCourt these days. :)

"You must want what you want and not just wish it"

2006-05-26T05:20:00.000-07:00

Just a line that struck me in Two Lives, the new Vikram Seth book.

Have a nice weekend.

Leave them emotions at the door!

2006-05-15T06:59:00.000-07:00

It was an interesting mix of readings this weekend - Lady Chatterley's Lover and Times Life, the Sunday supplement of the Times of India. Times Life was talking about the new "sexual revolution" in India - specifically for the Indian woman, who was not scared or ashamed anymore of brief and emotionless sexual encounters.

According to the paper, even counterparts in the West (Britain was mentioned specifically) think that one night stands are immoral. Not so in India anymore. The Indian woman in her early-twenties, riding on her world's "globalness" and her own economic independence, is pretty *&^%ing happy, they say. Or so it seems.

It made me think, "I'm old!" Personally, I don't know any woman who has had a one-night stand. Not that it is anything that would be publicly discussed in my circle. There have been casual relationships, but relationships none the less. And I do not understand the glory in a one-night stand, I mean, is it supposed to be impressive?

The girls interviewed in the article seemed somehow smug about their sexual encounters, the more emotionless, the better. What a pity! Why do we have to lose our rigid past to a cold, calculating future? Both totally suck.

I don't want to judge anyone, however: if you want an emotionless fling, great, good for you. But lets not throw all emotion out of the window; I mean, relationships based on care can't all be lame. And if the new gen-x of women is going to think that its "uncool" to have meaninglful relationships, it's too bad!

The worst part was reading that some of the girls were perfectly happy for mummy and daddy to choose their partners for life, after they had had their share of "fun". It was reminiscent of how Indian men used to talk a decade or so back. In our quest for equality, I guess we take over both the rational and the insane aspects of the "other side".

Contrast this to Lady Chatterley, the miserable woman longing not for sex, but for sex and care, or love, whatever you want to call it. Trapped in a marriage with a cripple, she wanted both emotional and physical attention. She didn't seek it in all men, only some appealed to her. A mental connection.

That is what, it seems, Indian women do not want. And, ironically, the women in the West, who have already completed the cycle of breaking the chains, and finding the all chains don't need to be broken, are now resisting, waiting for something "meaningful". I guess a time will come when the Indian women too will be fed up. Right now, although they assert the contrary, sex IS a big deal. Otherwise everyone wouldn't be talking about it, and it wouldn't be on the first page of the newspaper that young Indian women are "doing it".

Lady Chatterley's angst and disillusion is probably reflected in the late-twenties, early 30's Indian woman, aware of the past she is emerging from, and valuing the future she is stepping into.

Mary J Bleugh!

2006-05-08T11:40:00.000-07:00

One love, one blood, one life you gotta do what you should?

I'll tell you what Mary J Blight should not be doing: covering U2 songs! I recently heard her version of "One", the most amazing song in the whole world, and I went Mary J Blanch. To be fair, it's not too bad, I mean, after all it's a collaboration (or bastardization, as you like it) and U2 is involved too. It's just that it' not a match for the original, which was Mary J Bliss.

Bono is crooning along with her throughout the song, the scab. I guess we shall eventually get used to the Mary J Blotchy attempt at remaking a ferpect song.

Let it be the last dance with Mary J!

It wasn't me

2006-05-03T16:09:00.000-07:00

Yeah, so I haven't been myself over the last two posts. Lost for words, you might say.

While I wait to get back into the groove, get over my "writer's block", so to speak, I tag S! and The travelling cat. You know who you are.

P.S. You have to write about 10 things you miss the most. For more information please see the previous post.

I have been "Tagged"

2006-05-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

Ghetu, I realise I am falling for it.

Yes, I have been "tagged", to mention 10 things I miss the most. Here goes (in no particular order):

Childhood
Conversation
USA
Security
Aerobics
Friends
Lovers
My erstwhile feelings of total disregard
Hugs
My ideal life

Guess it doesn't make much sense.

Have a good one, guys.

Sinusoidal

2006-04-28T21:31:00.000-07:00

Everything runs in circles. Or is it squares? Does going full circle mean coming back to square one?

You figure it out...

Pondicherry Blues

2006-04-19T07:55:00.000-07:00

Yep, that is where I was this weekend.

The land down under firmly planted the travel bug in my head, and so we headed off to Pondi, the "Goa-of-the-east", they told me.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

Don't get me wrong - its a nice enough place. The thing is, my expectations were too high. I had been fed these visions of charming French cafes, glorious architecture and cheap beer, of which not even the latter came true!

Sure, there were some French food places - cafes and restaurants - around, but were painfully hard to find! It was as if Pondi was telling us: "Ha! Make an effort, only then shall you eat!" I mean, c'mon!! It's like Pondi folks don't WANT to encourage tourism. It should've been evident from the glances me and SM were getting for daring to bare, I guess ;) Such bad behaviour!

Anyway, we went to Le Club the other night for dinner and drinks and BO joined us too. Great wine, good food and cool people - that was what saved the day (and the night) in Pondi!

To be fair, the promenade was quite pretty, and the French area well planned and neat. Word to the wise: Avoid the restaurant Rendezvous! Absolutely crappy service.

All in all, pretty sweet n' sour.

Final verdict: ** and 1/2, that is, worth a one-time watch. Enjoy!

Spank my kitsch up

2006-04-04T11:34:00.000-07:00

So I was in Sydney some time back, and happened upon this charming neighbourhood - Kings Cross - home of gay bars, strip joints and, ahem, "adult" shops (e.g. Kink). Good bars though; I should know, went to three of them in a single night. Starting with beer and food at a regular bar-restaurant thing, moving on to a strictly drinks and dancing place, followed by a drunken revel at Moulin Rouge, where the artist-DJ was playing a "sexy-dirty pop disco mix". Whatever. The vodka and orange juice was good enough :)

So walking along the street, we see this masked artist a la Guy Fawkes, with sculptures made of metal wire wound round and round. Various unmentionable postures were depicted, but the piece de resistance of the whole ensemble was the, erm, lady on all fours, with a whip on the side. I almost spilled my guts laughing. Only my reverence for artists of all sorts kept me in line.

It was a very interesting exhibit, to say the least, but I did not actually see anyone take up the obvious invitation of the whip. Reassuringly there were some pieces of silver and gold in the artist's collection box. There were some people who touched the lady's bum (the sculpted lady, not the artist ;)), and it seemed like they'd received a mild electric shock. Still don't know if that was real or fake. All in all, a very non-Bangalorean experience!

Mortality

2006-03-10T09:48:00.000-08:00

It's a pain to be sick, literally. I seem to be surrounded by sickness, physical disability and illnesses, affecting my life in many little ways. Its funny how sickness doesn't only affect the victim, but also other related with him/her. And in some cases, the effects can be felt continents away...

So what can be the worst thing for a music lover? U2's Vertigo tour just got cancelled, and many folks are dismayed that they will not be able to see the gods of music in action. Seems there's a medical problem in The Edge's family. One feels sad about that, at the same time one wishes the concerts would go on as planned. Not quite an ethical dilemma, but close.

And what do you do when you have a medical problem in your own family? When it affects your plans, journeys and destinations? Do you cancel your "concert", or do you keep playing?

Draw the Line

2006-03-06T09:41:00.000-08:00

OK, I know I might come across as a basically cynical human being, but really, events are conspiring to make me that way. I mean, the gall, the absolute nerve! There are certain things you expect other human beings to adhere to, the normal ones anyway. Let me make a list of these things so that certain human beings (read: men, vermin, whatever you want to call them) make no mistake in "drawing the line":

1. Don't assume what you think is funny I will find funny too!
2. Don't take advantage of my good nature! There are some things which are never forgotten.
3. Don't think being a smartass will make you more attractive!
4. Don't give yourself too much credit; you might account for less that you think!

In toto: DON'T PISS ME OFF!

There. I feel better already :)

I am Bach

2006-03-06T09:35:00.000-08:00

Hi folks,

Sorry for the long hiatus... too much work and finally a social life! :) But its great to see you guys (or more precisely, gals) asking me to write up! Really makes me feel good; mwah, mwah!

So here goes... (see above I guess :))

Paradoxonic

2006-02-13T09:42:00.000-08:00

I was just thinking... waitamin, that's too abrupt. But since I take too much time to come to the point anyway, I guess it's ok. Hey - it's not abrupt already! :) Cool.

Thing is, I was thinking about welationships. Ok, yeah BORING (really?), done to death topic, whatever. But no, maybe this is a new twist to an old tale.

I was thinking, how it is that the people who we are the closest to, in all senses of the word, are also potentially the same people who are bound to us by the most tenuous links... A boy/girlfriend, lover, husband/wife... if things go wrong, this is the person you are going to give up, forever (or vice versa), along with all the other saaman, or stuff, both tangible and otherwise. This is the person who will not figure in your life anymore at all (unless, God forbid, you have kids together).

And the irony is that the less significant people in your life - distant friends, acquaintances and such like - remain in their designated positions, while other, MUCH more significant people just up and fade away...

Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

U2 F***ing Forever!

2006-02-10T10:20:00.000-08:00

Yeah people, the verdict is in. Kanye West can bitch and moan, but U2 it is.

Winning in all categories it was nominated for, U2 SWEPT the Grammys, as our beloved Reuters and BBC will vouch.

I know a detailed post wants, but will have to wait, pals. For now, I just could not resist this mini-pilgrimage!

So I'll depart in the words of U2, who else, and bid you a Beautiful Day, cos you are the Ones who make my blog Even Better Than The Real Thing.

;) Rock on! U2 Fo-eva!

Narcissist

2006-02-08T07:52:00.000-08:00

Went to this interesting website s! referred us novice bloggers to... To figure out the real "meaning" of a website/blog (methinks any length of text). These were the results for my blog:

Pretty neat, huh?

Patriotic, Principled? Puh-leez! Purr-haps.

2006-02-06T07:05:00.000-08:00

So yeah, I refused a CHOCOLATE, wonder of wonders, from AK, who, for reasons best known to himself, was distributing the treat when India lost to Pakistan today after posting a "whopping", as they call it, total of 328 on the board. My beloved Tendya even scored a perfect ton, and we still lost. Boo hoo.

Couple that with the fact that I am Kashmiri - how could I eat the celebration of defeat, even if it IS my most preferred food?

People tried to justify it in myriad ways: "Who cares, as long as I get chocolate"... "It's not really a celebration of Pak's victory, its just a treat"... Well, whatever. I just cannot sully my conscience with tainted chocolate.

Wherever I May Roam

2006-01-27T09:22:00.000-08:00

Gypsy got me thinking... about travel.

I share her wanderlust, albeit with less reservations about companions. For me, the place is supreme, and not my companions. I do not have the condition of being with "someone I love", when I travel. If I am with such a person, great; if not, not too bad. Focus solely on the place - the object of my affection.

Is travelling an escape from reality... no. Not for me anyway. I travel because I want to experience different ways of thinking and of life, and basically to have fun. Let that not mean that it's a trivial pursuit. I think many of my (sometimes big) decisions in life have been prompted by my desire to experience new things, in new places. Sometimes they have been unfortunate, sometimes disastrous, but always interesting. If I could go back in time, I would change nothing.

Mama says I can't travel all the time. I agree. Most of the time is quite ok.

Food, food, FOOD!

2006-01-23T10:23:00.000-08:00

Yeah... after U2, my second passion, I guess. When I say passion, I am reminded of passion fruit. Figures.

So... here's a list of (some of) my favourite things:

1. Chocolate (what else... typical! I know ;))
2. Eggy stuff
3. Sausages
4. Chick'nnn with or without naan
5. Coffee, tea and all that
6. Cake
7. Indian snacky stuff, like bhel puri and all the other puris :)
8. Desserty stuff
9. Pancakes with maple syrup... (As I always say, the 2 most important contributions of America to the world are Victoria's Secret and IHOP! No, not democracy :))
10. Oh man, I think I should stop!!

What do you like, chums?

The End

2006-01-18T09:43:00.000-08:00

Not my words at all, these. All credit to The Doors.

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land

Sarah and me

2006-01-06T10:38:00.000-08:00

Ok guys, this is a Sex and the City (SatC) post. So I will take no offense if you leave now and never come back. (No, please don't do that, I love comments!)

Anyhoo, there was this phase of obsessively watching SatC, 6 DVDs bought dirt cheap in, ahem, some shady market. Sarah (Jessica Parker, or Carrie Bradshaw in the show), immediately struck a chord.

Recently it seemed that Indians were obsessed with talking about marriage all the effing time. Well, one look at SatC, and it seems the entire female American population is doing the same! It's the same old story: where's that amazing guy who will pop the revered q.???

Irony: 35+ women in SatC talk the same way I see 25+ women talk in India. I guess we Indians have some catching-up to do, to reach that "(un?) comfort zone of singleness", if you can call it that.

So there's Sarah, or should I say Carrie, column writer less, sidewalk psychologist more, obsessed with shoes and a compulsive smoker (she stopped smoking with Aidan, hmmm); and it's easy to see where I draw the parallels. Oh, and not to mention, she chooses the wrong men. Let's hope the overlap is not absolute.

To be or not

2006-01-04T12:20:00.000-08:00

The haze is lifting
Coming back to earth
The middle path is not all it's made out to be
Teetering on the edge.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire?
Between the devil and the deep blue sea?
Tell me what to do, friend
Make my decision for me.