I have never given a farewell speech but have always wondered how it would feel to give one. When Girika (Name changed to keep identity intact) was delivering her farewell speech, a series of questions kept racing my mind. Does she really mean what she is saying? Why the hell is she so thankful to her boss, the same boss who had made her life miserable here and is the reason behind her resignation? Does she realize that she is never going to see these people again in her life and this could be the only chance to outburst all the lava inside?
And now it was my turn. I had made up my mind to speak the truth and nothing else (unless somebody asked me about my age). The moment arrived. Everybody gathered in the conference hall and had laid down goodies to eat on the table, which included the chocolate balls that I had specially asked Binoy to order.
All eyes were set on me, and it was understood that they wanted me to speak first. I took a long, deep breath and the words came out of my mouth:
“Please pardon me if I choke with emotions, since I am very depressed about leaving this place… But to tell you the truth…” That is when my eyes whiz passed a big pack kept behind the table wrapped in shiny gift paper. This looked like my farewell gift. I had just three seconds to decide. I could either speak the truth and let the gift (which could be a diamond necklace wrapped in a big box) slip away from my hands or be sugar coated for the last time and win the gift for myself. I could do the second option since I have had 24 years of experience in that. So I continued:
“… this being my first work place will always be very close to my heart. I have loved and enjoyed every moment working with people here. It did take some time for this fact to dawn my senses that I’ll be moving out of this place. And I think it will take some time for me to fully recover from the tragedy.
I have learnt a lot here. This is one place where I could multi task. I could chat, be on the phone and check out those really funny forwards sent by Charmaine. And of course work at the same time”. That is when I heard someone say, “Yeah right!” But I ignored that and continued.
“There will be no more mini breaks near the coffee machine, no more gossip sessions, no more heated arguments at the lunch table on which is better ‘Police or Army’, because without a doubt Army is better. There will be no more loitering outside office to soak some heat, no more watching movies in office hours (not that we did that much) and of course, no more exchanging movies and ‘Big Bang Theory’ seasons.”
“It is a blessing to have a boss who is more of a friend. It really made my life easy here.” By this time I was already choking with emotions. That’s the time when I realized that I was, for real, leaving and this was my farewell. I’ll not be working here anymore. I was sad by this moment and was really going to miss this place.
“On a serious note, this was a wonderful place to work. And as I join Ahmedabad office, I’ll envy you all. Also, if anyone ever happens to visit Ahmedabad, please do let me know. I’ll be more than glad to host you all.” Though I don’t understand why I said the last sentence.
This was my farewell speech, which was followed by an even more senti speech by my boss and then an elongated snacks session. So elongated, that by now, the excitement to open my gift was dying. Finally people left me and my gift alone. I loved the 4 shirts that were inside the packet.
All in all, my last day in office was one of the best ones.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Back from Ahmedabad
If you are a Gujju, with a weak heart and feel strongly for Ahmedabad, I suggest- stop reading further. Chances are that you will get up from your seat, throw away the chivda packet in your hand, call all your fellow Gujarati friends and pass judgment in Gujarati and then, when the anger subsides, you’ll again pick up the chivda packet and start munching on it, since Gujjus don’t believe in wasting anything that costs money.
So, I land in Ahmedabad, and see fog outside. Believe me, for a north Indian who is now settled in Mumbai (where it never gets cold. NEVER!), seeing fog was thrilling. My heart was pumping harder to get out of the plane and feel the weather. Everything was going perfectly normal. Just like any other airport, there were families waiting outside to receive their people. Most of them were FAT Gujju aunties, who had come to receive their dear ones with one BIG tiffin each, which I am sure, was loaded with Thepla and khakhra. Every family that came out had at least 4 huge cartons/ bags, which were piled up in one trolley blocking the view of the person pulling it. I sure have seen such scenarios in Punjab but that was quite some time back.
I then, headed towards my office (where Nirav was to give me contacts of some brokers); pretty much relaxed, since Binoy and Pratixa had assured me that finding an accommodation in Ahmedabad would be a cake walk.
Cutting the long story short, it was nothing like I expected. The city was over polluted. It was hot, maybe not as much as Mumbai. But still hot and dry. It seemed like a dead city. No life. Everything was moving in slow motion, like how they show in movies when the focus is to be on the actor and rest everybody is in standstill position. I met with almost 10 brokers who showed me nearly 40 places in 4 days and yet nothing worth it. It reminded me of the time I was looking for an accommodation in Mumbai. Only difference being, the situation now was even worse.
I could have killed Binoy for telling me the Ahmbad is a clean city. By no means did I find it clean. In fact, all the houses that I was taken to were in a run-down condition, shady looking and pan spits on the stair-cases with men in their banyans roaming in building corridors.
I also did get the luxurious opportunity to have lunch in Ahmedabad, (apparently, Ahmbad is known for its food). No doubt the food was delicious but I can’t let it go without narrating my experience at the restaurant. The place was overcrowded by a load of noisy, thick-armed women, who carried large heavy shopping bags and were accompanied by the ripe mixture of odor. While I stood in the buffet line, I couldn’t help but notice this lady’s plate who headed me. It merely had any place left, yet she struggled to fill it as much as possible when a voice came from around the corner,
“Madam, this is buffet system. We won’t charge extra if you come back for a second helping” (of-course the dialogues were in Gujarati)
Her square body remained ponderously immobile, but she turned her head around as far as her massive neck would permit and rejoined:
“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t wanna rise up from my seat once I am settled.” (Either she was making it up for saving herself from the embarrassment or she was too lazy)
After all the struggling with her food, she came to her table and narrated her little conversation with the waiter to her friends and added “As though I am dumb” at the end. All this was said in a tone intentionally loud enough to entertain everyone, and the women showed their appreciation by cackling loudly, rocking their bodies as much as the crowding permitted.
I then realized, Gujjus are all about FOOD.
With the intention of not hurting my Gujju readers’ sentiments, I shall not say anything controversial anymore, expect for narrate the following incident:
So I call up this broker whose name in his visiting card was printed as “Hasmukh Bhai”
Me: Hello! Hasmukh Bhai?
Him: Haan! Deepali Ben, bolo.
Ben, Ben, Ben… the word echoed in my head and I stood in a moment of shock till I shouted out “Dude! If you call me Ben, I am not gonna do any transaction with you”
Eeewww, if I stay here for long, I’ll become a Gujju ben. The thought scared the hell out of me.
At least one good has come out of my visit, I can read Gujarati now. Well!!! Do I have any other option? All the sign boards, all the hoardings, name plates and even big showroom names like Provogue and Nike were written in Gujarati. And then they talk about Raj Thackeray inexcusably promoting Marathi.
So, I land in Ahmedabad, and see fog outside. Believe me, for a north Indian who is now settled in Mumbai (where it never gets cold. NEVER!), seeing fog was thrilling. My heart was pumping harder to get out of the plane and feel the weather. Everything was going perfectly normal. Just like any other airport, there were families waiting outside to receive their people. Most of them were FAT Gujju aunties, who had come to receive their dear ones with one BIG tiffin each, which I am sure, was loaded with Thepla and khakhra. Every family that came out had at least 4 huge cartons/ bags, which were piled up in one trolley blocking the view of the person pulling it. I sure have seen such scenarios in Punjab but that was quite some time back.
I then, headed towards my office (where Nirav was to give me contacts of some brokers); pretty much relaxed, since Binoy and Pratixa had assured me that finding an accommodation in Ahmedabad would be a cake walk.
Cutting the long story short, it was nothing like I expected. The city was over polluted. It was hot, maybe not as much as Mumbai. But still hot and dry. It seemed like a dead city. No life. Everything was moving in slow motion, like how they show in movies when the focus is to be on the actor and rest everybody is in standstill position. I met with almost 10 brokers who showed me nearly 40 places in 4 days and yet nothing worth it. It reminded me of the time I was looking for an accommodation in Mumbai. Only difference being, the situation now was even worse.
I could have killed Binoy for telling me the Ahmbad is a clean city. By no means did I find it clean. In fact, all the houses that I was taken to were in a run-down condition, shady looking and pan spits on the stair-cases with men in their banyans roaming in building corridors.
I also did get the luxurious opportunity to have lunch in Ahmedabad, (apparently, Ahmbad is known for its food). No doubt the food was delicious but I can’t let it go without narrating my experience at the restaurant. The place was overcrowded by a load of noisy, thick-armed women, who carried large heavy shopping bags and were accompanied by the ripe mixture of odor. While I stood in the buffet line, I couldn’t help but notice this lady’s plate who headed me. It merely had any place left, yet she struggled to fill it as much as possible when a voice came from around the corner,
“Madam, this is buffet system. We won’t charge extra if you come back for a second helping” (of-course the dialogues were in Gujarati)
Her square body remained ponderously immobile, but she turned her head around as far as her massive neck would permit and rejoined:
“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t wanna rise up from my seat once I am settled.” (Either she was making it up for saving herself from the embarrassment or she was too lazy)
After all the struggling with her food, she came to her table and narrated her little conversation with the waiter to her friends and added “As though I am dumb” at the end. All this was said in a tone intentionally loud enough to entertain everyone, and the women showed their appreciation by cackling loudly, rocking their bodies as much as the crowding permitted.
I then realized, Gujjus are all about FOOD.
With the intention of not hurting my Gujju readers’ sentiments, I shall not say anything controversial anymore, expect for narrate the following incident:
So I call up this broker whose name in his visiting card was printed as “Hasmukh Bhai”
Me: Hello! Hasmukh Bhai?
Him: Haan! Deepali Ben, bolo.
Ben, Ben, Ben… the word echoed in my head and I stood in a moment of shock till I shouted out “Dude! If you call me Ben, I am not gonna do any transaction with you”
Eeewww, if I stay here for long, I’ll become a Gujju ben. The thought scared the hell out of me.
At least one good has come out of my visit, I can read Gujarati now. Well!!! Do I have any other option? All the sign boards, all the hoardings, name plates and even big showroom names like Provogue and Nike were written in Gujarati. And then they talk about Raj Thackeray inexcusably promoting Marathi.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Ahmedabad awaits me!!!
I knew I was God’s favorite child the day I instructed him to set the question paper for my History exam according to my preparation. He was kind enough and did exactly what I had asked. For some reason, other kids (who claimed they had slogged more) were upset over the fact that their hard work was all in vain. That day I knew that god was on my side.
Today again he has proved me right. I have detested Mumbai since the very first day, and my aversion is clear from all those post in the past describing Mumbai. Chances are, if you are a Mumbaikar, you will not like my blog and if you are not, then you’ll probably be able to relate to my posts. Also, I fear if my blog gets very popular and somehow Raj Thackeray reads it, I’ll be punished to either leave Mumbai or write all my posts in Marathi. (BTW I know the Abu Azmi incident was such a shame, but honestly I thought it was hilarious. It’s been a long time since I have seen such fights. Last time I saw it, I was in 9th standard and two boys fought over ice-cream. It was something similar).
As I was saying, I have tolerated this city for 1.6 years and am finally shifting out, to Ahmedabad. No, I am not getting married. This was the first thought that crawled minds of my warden, watchman, cook, my train- companions, and many others. Why can’t a girl as old as 18, be left alone from the thought of marriage? (Ok fine! I am 24). I am just shifting jobs.
At first I was reluctant to go to a completely new place. No friends, no relatives, no one known, no life, no alcohol, no non-veg. Even though I don’t consume alcohol or eat non-veg, I just thought of penning it down to illustrate what a DRY place Ahmedabad is. ;-). Pratixa, Nirav and Abhishek spent nearly a week in persuading me what a clean and desirable life Ahmedabad has to offer. Understandably so, since their home town is Ahmedabad, or is it because they cannot tolerate me here anymore and so much so, want me to leave the city altogether so that I am nowhere in their vicinity.
Whatever the case maybe, I am not as scared now. Maybe because I am more excited about the fact that I’ll finally get to stay on my own. The real-estate prices being so cheap, I can finally afford to rent an apartment and live by myself. No more yelling warden, no more irritating roommates, no more sharing my space, and no more interacting with people who get on my nerves but only because I have to stay with them, I have to be nice and sugar coated.
Lets see what is in store for me.
Wish me luck people!!!
Today again he has proved me right. I have detested Mumbai since the very first day, and my aversion is clear from all those post in the past describing Mumbai. Chances are, if you are a Mumbaikar, you will not like my blog and if you are not, then you’ll probably be able to relate to my posts. Also, I fear if my blog gets very popular and somehow Raj Thackeray reads it, I’ll be punished to either leave Mumbai or write all my posts in Marathi. (BTW I know the Abu Azmi incident was such a shame, but honestly I thought it was hilarious. It’s been a long time since I have seen such fights. Last time I saw it, I was in 9th standard and two boys fought over ice-cream. It was something similar).
As I was saying, I have tolerated this city for 1.6 years and am finally shifting out, to Ahmedabad. No, I am not getting married. This was the first thought that crawled minds of my warden, watchman, cook, my train- companions, and many others. Why can’t a girl as old as 18, be left alone from the thought of marriage? (Ok fine! I am 24). I am just shifting jobs.
At first I was reluctant to go to a completely new place. No friends, no relatives, no one known, no life, no alcohol, no non-veg. Even though I don’t consume alcohol or eat non-veg, I just thought of penning it down to illustrate what a DRY place Ahmedabad is. ;-). Pratixa, Nirav and Abhishek spent nearly a week in persuading me what a clean and desirable life Ahmedabad has to offer. Understandably so, since their home town is Ahmedabad, or is it because they cannot tolerate me here anymore and so much so, want me to leave the city altogether so that I am nowhere in their vicinity.
Whatever the case maybe, I am not as scared now. Maybe because I am more excited about the fact that I’ll finally get to stay on my own. The real-estate prices being so cheap, I can finally afford to rent an apartment and live by myself. No more yelling warden, no more irritating roommates, no more sharing my space, and no more interacting with people who get on my nerves but only because I have to stay with them, I have to be nice and sugar coated.
Lets see what is in store for me.
Wish me luck people!!!
Friday, November 6, 2009
Silly Me
It so happened that I was sitting on Marine drive. For those socially unaware people, Marine drive is the place seen in most movies shot in Mumbai. One of the very FEW good places in Mumbai to visit. Actually, the ONLY good place to visit in Mumbai.
Coming back to the topic and not wasting another post on how filthy and smutty Mumbai is, I overheard this little girl ask her mom:
“Mom, why is it called Dandi March?”
“Beta, because Gandhiji walked all the miles with a stick in his hand”, her mom replied.
The little girl seemed to buy that answer while I smiled within me wondering how gullible this kid was. Or was it the conviction in her mom’s voice. (Or did her mom really think that ‘Dandi March’ has been named after a stick?)
Maybe, it was the conviction. What was I so amazed about? My mom had managed to pull the wool over my eye for a long time herself.
I remember admiring myself in the mirror as a kid (Yeah! Self obsession started at a very young age), and asking my Mom, “Mom, when did I get glasses?”
“It came free when you were born”, my mom said.
“Wow, God is so generous. He parceled me and my glasses at the same cost, with no extra charges.” I thought to myself.
Another time, when I had just learned the art of lying, I told my mom, “I have completed my home-work for the day. Can I please go and play outside with my friends now?”
“Since when have you started lying to me”, my mom yelled. Her voice loud enough to scare my friends waiting outside.
“How did you know I was lying”, I inquired. I was curious to know as it took a lot of skill for me to come up with that false.
“When you lie to your mom, your ears move”, she said with confidence shimmering in every word.
Hence, next time onwards, I would cover my ears with my palms and lie to her. That made it even easier for her to catch my lie. Bingo! She had managed to fool me yet again.
But I can’t blame her for all my silliness. Some of the instances didn’t involve my mom and yet I was silly. Like, I was in 9th standard when we bought our new computer. It was a huge box with millions of wires attached, an even bulkier CPU, keyboards with jumbled alphabets and a mouse which I wasn’t scared of. I took extra care of our computer and would clean it every day to prevent it from Virus attacks. Until I grew up and learnt that virus attacks are not caused by dust particles.
Also, whenever I read “Use dipper at night”, I thought it to be “Use diaper at night” and would wonder why do drivers need to wear diapers at night. Maybe because night driving is more difficult than day driving and the driver is more likely to get scared and wet his seat, making him even more uncomfortable.
“To Let” sign board, was always a spelling debacle for me. It should have been “Toilet”.
I realize I should end my post here, before I start embarrassing myself.
cya
Coming back to the topic and not wasting another post on how filthy and smutty Mumbai is, I overheard this little girl ask her mom:
“Mom, why is it called Dandi March?”
“Beta, because Gandhiji walked all the miles with a stick in his hand”, her mom replied.
The little girl seemed to buy that answer while I smiled within me wondering how gullible this kid was. Or was it the conviction in her mom’s voice. (Or did her mom really think that ‘Dandi March’ has been named after a stick?)
Maybe, it was the conviction. What was I so amazed about? My mom had managed to pull the wool over my eye for a long time herself.
I remember admiring myself in the mirror as a kid (Yeah! Self obsession started at a very young age), and asking my Mom, “Mom, when did I get glasses?”
“It came free when you were born”, my mom said.
“Wow, God is so generous. He parceled me and my glasses at the same cost, with no extra charges.” I thought to myself.
Another time, when I had just learned the art of lying, I told my mom, “I have completed my home-work for the day. Can I please go and play outside with my friends now?”
“Since when have you started lying to me”, my mom yelled. Her voice loud enough to scare my friends waiting outside.
“How did you know I was lying”, I inquired. I was curious to know as it took a lot of skill for me to come up with that false.
“When you lie to your mom, your ears move”, she said with confidence shimmering in every word.
Hence, next time onwards, I would cover my ears with my palms and lie to her. That made it even easier for her to catch my lie. Bingo! She had managed to fool me yet again.
But I can’t blame her for all my silliness. Some of the instances didn’t involve my mom and yet I was silly. Like, I was in 9th standard when we bought our new computer. It was a huge box with millions of wires attached, an even bulkier CPU, keyboards with jumbled alphabets and a mouse which I wasn’t scared of. I took extra care of our computer and would clean it every day to prevent it from Virus attacks. Until I grew up and learnt that virus attacks are not caused by dust particles.
Also, whenever I read “Use dipper at night”, I thought it to be “Use diaper at night” and would wonder why do drivers need to wear diapers at night. Maybe because night driving is more difficult than day driving and the driver is more likely to get scared and wet his seat, making him even more uncomfortable.
“To Let” sign board, was always a spelling debacle for me. It should have been “Toilet”.
I realize I should end my post here, before I start embarrassing myself.
cya
Monday, November 2, 2009
On why I pity my kids
My mom is a cleanliness freak. Had she left it to me, I would brush my teeth once a week, take bath on Sundays and save washed clothes only for parties.
My mom would find faults with everything. It would start as early as 6 a.m (that is pretty early for me) - and say: “I couldn’t get the stain of Frooti off your school uniform. What do you girls play with Frooti anyways?”
Bathrooms were a horror. Here are some of the sentences we got to hear…
“What? You just went inside. There is no chance you could have brushed you teeth the way shown at dentist’s clinic”
“Are you sure you had bath? Your towel it pretty dry.” (Damn it! Next time, I must at least wet my towel)
“The walls are all soap. Can’t you pour some water or be careful while bathing?” (What am I supposed to do? Lie down on the floor and take bath?)
“Did you notice the soap box? It is full of water!” (Mom, I was just trying to save water for the rainy day.)
And just when we were done with the ‘bathroom bashing’, and dressing up for school when she would barge in and say “Just look at your wardrobe.”
“Yeah, I saw… what is wrong?” I ask
“Now, look at mine. Everything is washed, ironed and kept properly,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reluctantly agree. More because, back answering your mom is considered rude. But in my defense, she is 28 years elder to me and has as much experience of keeping a clean wardrobe.
Now we move on to the breakfast table, where we get scolded for being magnanimous enough to drop a cereal for the ants that have formed a cantonment in our house. We also got berated for flushing away our milk, and for sharing our breakfast with our dog. Anything we did in our house was required to be done in another way- the supposedly cleaner way.
And what annoyed me the most was that I was expected to clear up the mess created by my little sister. She would give the crappy “You never did this when you were my age. I’ll learn when I am as old as you.” I would buy that, thinking that some day she will be as old as me. The naïve girl that I was, lived in this illusion but that day never came.
Now, I am nothing but a replica of my mom. A ‘cleanliness freak’. My children are gonna have a tough time. I pity them already.
My mom would find faults with everything. It would start as early as 6 a.m (that is pretty early for me) - and say: “I couldn’t get the stain of Frooti off your school uniform. What do you girls play with Frooti anyways?”
Bathrooms were a horror. Here are some of the sentences we got to hear…
“What? You just went inside. There is no chance you could have brushed you teeth the way shown at dentist’s clinic”
“Are you sure you had bath? Your towel it pretty dry.” (Damn it! Next time, I must at least wet my towel)
“The walls are all soap. Can’t you pour some water or be careful while bathing?” (What am I supposed to do? Lie down on the floor and take bath?)
“Did you notice the soap box? It is full of water!” (Mom, I was just trying to save water for the rainy day.)
And just when we were done with the ‘bathroom bashing’, and dressing up for school when she would barge in and say “Just look at your wardrobe.”
“Yeah, I saw… what is wrong?” I ask
“Now, look at mine. Everything is washed, ironed and kept properly,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reluctantly agree. More because, back answering your mom is considered rude. But in my defense, she is 28 years elder to me and has as much experience of keeping a clean wardrobe.
Now we move on to the breakfast table, where we get scolded for being magnanimous enough to drop a cereal for the ants that have formed a cantonment in our house. We also got berated for flushing away our milk, and for sharing our breakfast with our dog. Anything we did in our house was required to be done in another way- the supposedly cleaner way.
And what annoyed me the most was that I was expected to clear up the mess created by my little sister. She would give the crappy “You never did this when you were my age. I’ll learn when I am as old as you.” I would buy that, thinking that some day she will be as old as me. The naïve girl that I was, lived in this illusion but that day never came.
Now, I am nothing but a replica of my mom. A ‘cleanliness freak’. My children are gonna have a tough time. I pity them already.
Unbelievable
China might be great in technology, US might be leaders in Science, and Singapore might top the developed country’s list. But there is one area where no one can surpass India. It’s ancient art. Without wasting space and time in explaining what I am talking about, I shall simply narrate an experience which kept me spell bound. This is how it goes:
Life has not been at its best for the past couple of months. Lots of queries about my future, my job, relationships, and many more, had clouded my mind. This is when I decided to visit ‘Nadi Jotish’, the much talked about topic amongst my friends circle. Even though my mom is a typical “How can this happen, when it wasn’t written in your kundali?” types and the types who would make you wear stones and rudraksh to keep the evil away from you, I have had very little faith in astrology. But I decided to give it a try.
So I enter the place and they ask for my thumb impression along with the initials of my name i.e. D P L, and asked me to wait for 15 minutes. While I waited outside, and had barely read 1 chapter of Chetan Bhagat’s “2 States”, I was called inside again.
“We have found your thumb impression”, a mellow voice came from behind me as I observed pictures hung in the room. He was a typical looking swami with long beard and moustache, draped in white dhoti and a shawl and smelling of chandan.
“What does that mean?” I enquired. Didn’t I give them my thumb impression myself? So what’s the big deal?
There lay a wooden log on the table with both of us sitting on either side.
“This has the some leaves in it. Out of these, one of the leaves will have your details.” He said, while pointing towards the wooden loaf.
“So let me get this straight. Are you trying to say that one of the leaves is mine? With my name, my past, my history and my entire life story encrypted on it?” I said inquisitively
“Yes, you just have to answer me in a “Yes” or a “No”” Swamiji said
“OK”. This was getting very exciting. I wanted to see if he will actually find my leaf. Despite the fact that I am no celebrity, I’ll have a leaf of my own.
He started questioning, turning each leaf ahead:
“Are you the youngest daughter?”
“No”
Next Leaf
“Are your parents separated?”
“No”
Next leaf… He had to turn about 20 leaves till he asked me, “Is your dad a govt servant?”
“Yes”
“Are you 2 sisters, you being the elder one?”
“Yes”
“Have you completed dual qualification?”
“Yes”
“Is your sister studying overseas?”
“Yes”
“Is your dad’s name Raj, Mum is called Geeta and sister is Shifali?”
“Unbelievable, how did you know?” I shouted in excitement while I got goose bumps on my arms.
“It is all written on this leaf”
“You mean my name along with my family’s name, my future, my past, everything?”
“Also your past birth and your future birth”
After that, he told me about my future, year by year. The year when I’ll be married, to whom I’ll be married, my future job, where will I be settled, etc. I don’t know how far is this gonna be true but I was truly astonished by the way he found me leaf.
My suggestion to you people: Even if you do not wanna know about your future, at least go there once to check out that there exists a leaf which has your details on it written ages back by some saint. Isn’t that amazing in itself?
India is India!!!
Life has not been at its best for the past couple of months. Lots of queries about my future, my job, relationships, and many more, had clouded my mind. This is when I decided to visit ‘Nadi Jotish’, the much talked about topic amongst my friends circle. Even though my mom is a typical “How can this happen, when it wasn’t written in your kundali?” types and the types who would make you wear stones and rudraksh to keep the evil away from you, I have had very little faith in astrology. But I decided to give it a try.
So I enter the place and they ask for my thumb impression along with the initials of my name i.e. D P L, and asked me to wait for 15 minutes. While I waited outside, and had barely read 1 chapter of Chetan Bhagat’s “2 States”, I was called inside again.
“We have found your thumb impression”, a mellow voice came from behind me as I observed pictures hung in the room. He was a typical looking swami with long beard and moustache, draped in white dhoti and a shawl and smelling of chandan.
“What does that mean?” I enquired. Didn’t I give them my thumb impression myself? So what’s the big deal?
There lay a wooden log on the table with both of us sitting on either side.
“This has the some leaves in it. Out of these, one of the leaves will have your details.” He said, while pointing towards the wooden loaf.
“So let me get this straight. Are you trying to say that one of the leaves is mine? With my name, my past, my history and my entire life story encrypted on it?” I said inquisitively
“Yes, you just have to answer me in a “Yes” or a “No”” Swamiji said
“OK”. This was getting very exciting. I wanted to see if he will actually find my leaf. Despite the fact that I am no celebrity, I’ll have a leaf of my own.
He started questioning, turning each leaf ahead:
“Are you the youngest daughter?”
“No”
Next Leaf
“Are your parents separated?”
“No”
Next leaf… He had to turn about 20 leaves till he asked me, “Is your dad a govt servant?”
“Yes”
“Are you 2 sisters, you being the elder one?”
“Yes”
“Have you completed dual qualification?”
“Yes”
“Is your sister studying overseas?”
“Yes”
“Is your dad’s name Raj, Mum is called Geeta and sister is Shifali?”
“Unbelievable, how did you know?” I shouted in excitement while I got goose bumps on my arms.
“It is all written on this leaf”
“You mean my name along with my family’s name, my future, my past, everything?”
“Also your past birth and your future birth”
After that, he told me about my future, year by year. The year when I’ll be married, to whom I’ll be married, my future job, where will I be settled, etc. I don’t know how far is this gonna be true but I was truly astonished by the way he found me leaf.
My suggestion to you people: Even if you do not wanna know about your future, at least go there once to check out that there exists a leaf which has your details on it written ages back by some saint. Isn’t that amazing in itself?
India is India!!!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tough Decisions!
You could be an Ambani, but there are going to be times when you are at the crossroads wondering…what shall I have now…tea or coffee?
Of course, the Ambanis have bigger issues to sort out but my point is…however powerful you are…there are some tough decisions that have to be taken. Take me for example: I have got feedback from readers of my blog that I should not write ‘long’ posts. While some felt that it was funny, many thought it was too long to hold on a person’s attention.
Even though people "think" that, ‘Deepali cannot handle criticism well’ (this being one of them); I am always open to suggestion provided it is put forward politely and non-offensively ;-)
Though I get lots of appreciation and mails everyday telling me how good my blog is, (I am not making it up), for the sake of those lazy readers who want me to cut short the length of my posts, I shall try it for some time. But if I don’t get a good response, then I am not to be blamed ;-)
Since we started with the Ambanis, I suggest we end with them….Ambanis.
Yours Truly,
Deepali
Of course, the Ambanis have bigger issues to sort out but my point is…however powerful you are…there are some tough decisions that have to be taken. Take me for example: I have got feedback from readers of my blog that I should not write ‘long’ posts. While some felt that it was funny, many thought it was too long to hold on a person’s attention.
Even though people "think" that, ‘Deepali cannot handle criticism well’ (this being one of them); I am always open to suggestion provided it is put forward politely and non-offensively ;-)
Though I get lots of appreciation and mails everyday telling me how good my blog is, (I am not making it up), for the sake of those lazy readers who want me to cut short the length of my posts, I shall try it for some time. But if I don’t get a good response, then I am not to be blamed ;-)
Since we started with the Ambanis, I suggest we end with them….Ambanis.
Yours Truly,
Deepali
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Ritu's perfect family
I was always told that life changes after marriage. It was always emphasized that we lose our freedom, we tend to get irritated, there is continuous nagging and demanding, and we are expected to be more responsible. People also told me that they tend to eat more and gain weight after marriage (maybe out of depression).
But one thing they forgot to mention was “All the above is subject to conditions”.
When Ritu got married, all of us lost hopes. Our reactions were something like this “Today this has happened to her. Tomorrow, it’ll be our turn. No one will be able to escape”. “Spend as much time with her as possible; she won’t be the same after this anymore”. “She is a strong girl! She will be able to survive”.
After her Wedding Day, things changed. We didn’t speak to her often. She was not to be seen in any of the get togethers. We celebrated B’days without her. It was hard to believe that the, once- upon- a- time- party- girl is missing out on so much. “Maybe she is caged” was the most common thought.
Recently I got a chance to visit Nagpur and Ritu insisted I stayed with her. I would have denied her offer (since she stays with her in-laws), but accepting it would mean, saving on my hotel accommodation+ getting to play with her St Bernard. I simply accepted it.
Little did I know what was in store for me. I had the most wonderful time of my life in these 3 days. In Dinesh’s (Ritu’s beloved husband) words “3 Nights and 1 day” (Since 2 days, I was busy doing, what I actually went there for, “industrial visit”). Not only did I make wonderful friends, I also got to experience what it is to be like in the company of super rich yet down to earth people. I have had loads of filthy rich friends, but none of them with such humility and modesty.
Dinesh, his brother, mom and dad were the most humble people I have ever come across. They were so soft spoken that even if I whispered, I was the loudest. They were like one of those families where all the brothers of the family have bungalows in the same compound wall; where the whole family (joint) sits, eats, plays and work together; where a daughter-in-law is more loved and cherished than their son; every event (be it a b’day or a marriage) is celebrated whole heartedly, everyday is an occasion. In short, like one of those Rajshri Production movies. I was really happy for Ritu, because not only has she got the perfect (literally) husband, but also a wonderful family, who doesn’t even care if she can’t speak Marwadi or can’t cook.
All that a girl ever wants from her married life is that her husband should consider her family as his and love them equally, who respects her parents, talks to them more often than her, tells them that they haven’t lost a daughter but have got a son instead. Lucky Ritu, she’s got a husband like this. Apart from that, as a complimentary gift she also got a brother-in-law who is equally loving, friendly and affectionate. He is those kinds who never make you feel out of place (a little like me…;-))
I played, laughed, gossiped, watched movies, drove BMW, and fooled around. I got immense love from her family. Being the non- expressive person that I am, through this post I would wanna tell them what a wonderful time I had with them and wish for all prosperity in their lives. Also now I am finally relieved and can formally announce that “Ritu is in safe hands”. ;-)
But one thing they forgot to mention was “All the above is subject to conditions”.
When Ritu got married, all of us lost hopes. Our reactions were something like this “Today this has happened to her. Tomorrow, it’ll be our turn. No one will be able to escape”. “Spend as much time with her as possible; she won’t be the same after this anymore”. “She is a strong girl! She will be able to survive”.
After her Wedding Day, things changed. We didn’t speak to her often. She was not to be seen in any of the get togethers. We celebrated B’days without her. It was hard to believe that the, once- upon- a- time- party- girl is missing out on so much. “Maybe she is caged” was the most common thought.
Recently I got a chance to visit Nagpur and Ritu insisted I stayed with her. I would have denied her offer (since she stays with her in-laws), but accepting it would mean, saving on my hotel accommodation+ getting to play with her St Bernard. I simply accepted it.
Little did I know what was in store for me. I had the most wonderful time of my life in these 3 days. In Dinesh’s (Ritu’s beloved husband) words “3 Nights and 1 day” (Since 2 days, I was busy doing, what I actually went there for, “industrial visit”). Not only did I make wonderful friends, I also got to experience what it is to be like in the company of super rich yet down to earth people. I have had loads of filthy rich friends, but none of them with such humility and modesty.
Dinesh, his brother, mom and dad were the most humble people I have ever come across. They were so soft spoken that even if I whispered, I was the loudest. They were like one of those families where all the brothers of the family have bungalows in the same compound wall; where the whole family (joint) sits, eats, plays and work together; where a daughter-in-law is more loved and cherished than their son; every event (be it a b’day or a marriage) is celebrated whole heartedly, everyday is an occasion. In short, like one of those Rajshri Production movies. I was really happy for Ritu, because not only has she got the perfect (literally) husband, but also a wonderful family, who doesn’t even care if she can’t speak Marwadi or can’t cook.
All that a girl ever wants from her married life is that her husband should consider her family as his and love them equally, who respects her parents, talks to them more often than her, tells them that they haven’t lost a daughter but have got a son instead. Lucky Ritu, she’s got a husband like this. Apart from that, as a complimentary gift she also got a brother-in-law who is equally loving, friendly and affectionate. He is those kinds who never make you feel out of place (a little like me…;-))
I played, laughed, gossiped, watched movies, drove BMW, and fooled around. I got immense love from her family. Being the non- expressive person that I am, through this post I would wanna tell them what a wonderful time I had with them and wish for all prosperity in their lives. Also now I am finally relieved and can formally announce that “Ritu is in safe hands”. ;-)
Monday, September 28, 2009
Last One Month
Apologies to all those readers who religiously visit this blog expecting a post(i.e. if such readers exists), and for others who have better things to do in life, I sincerely request you to visit this blog frequently coz every time you visit some amount will be contributed towards “Akanksha”, for under privileged kids. And for those who believed that crap, “Gotcha!!!”
Last one month has been very eventful, particularly for me. First YSR goes missing, followed by my Birthday, then a 4 day long DSN course (Art of Living), Dance Premier League (DPL) auditions, movie releases, my boss leaves for Singapore for 2 whole weeks, Jayapradha in tears, Purvi won a cycle for herself and finally a trip to Nagpur (Official cum social). Too much for a person to handle, isn’t it?
Especially the YSR chapter. It was such an eye opener, both spiritually and socially. Wondering what I am talking about?
Spiritual Side: No matter what position/ power you are at, you can not escape death.
Social Side: “My friends cared for YSR more than me”. They even forgot to wish me on my b’day.
This is what happened when Vani called me towards the dusk of 3rd September.
Vani: “Hi! Happy B’day”
Me: Thanx, but why didn’t you call me last night. I was expecting your call
V: Yaar! YSR is missing. I was tensed
M: So tensed that you forgot about my B’day
V: He is our CM. I am concerned about him. I was glued to TV all night watching the news and trying to figure out what possibly could have happened. And most importantly will it be declared an off tomorrow?
M: Oh! That’s sad. But what is the scene now? I mean, after the news that he is dead.
V: Ah! Pretty much what I expected. It’s a holiday. I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I didn’t like YSR much. I preferred Chandrababu Naidu. But that does not mean that God had to kill him for this.
This was followed by my B’day. I had the most amazing b’day this time. The excitement of my B’day is directly related to the gifts I get. (Yes! It still does matter).
Then I was busy doing an Art of Living course, which I am not gonna talk about. Not because I am bored but coz I do not have words to pen down my experience. Those who have done their DSN, I did it with Anand Rajendraji. It was ekdam Jhakaassss
Okay! I am not gonna make this post long and boring. To cut long things short, following are one liner about the eventful month:
• Purvi (My extended room mate) won a cycle for herself out of raffle ticket (Can you believe it? Such things never happen to anyone closely or distantly related to me. Maybe this means that the curse has been removed). We were just very busy making plans of where all to go cycling and following a healthy life style by commuting to work on it, when we were told that we wont be allowed to keep it in our Hostel. She had to sell it off the very next day she got it.
• I auditioned for DPL. You’ll see it on air in the near future, so I am not gonna talk about it much
• My boss left for Singapore for 2 whole weeks. Do you even know what that mean?
• I’ll be leaving for Nagpur tonight. This is more of a vacation than an official trip. Here is what happened:
Boss: Deepali, you have to make a visit to Butibori and Hingna next week.
Deepali: (I am too lazy for any visits) Sir, I have some personall commitments. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it
Matter closed
Deepali, checks online and figures out that these 2 places are very close to Ritu’s (My old roommate and very close friend) house.
Deepali: Sir, I have decided to give my personal commitments a back seat and go for the visit
Boss: (What a dedicated employee)
- Rest when I get back. Keep visiting
Last one month has been very eventful, particularly for me. First YSR goes missing, followed by my Birthday, then a 4 day long DSN course (Art of Living), Dance Premier League (DPL) auditions, movie releases, my boss leaves for Singapore for 2 whole weeks, Jayapradha in tears, Purvi won a cycle for herself and finally a trip to Nagpur (Official cum social). Too much for a person to handle, isn’t it?
Especially the YSR chapter. It was such an eye opener, both spiritually and socially. Wondering what I am talking about?
Spiritual Side: No matter what position/ power you are at, you can not escape death.
Social Side: “My friends cared for YSR more than me”. They even forgot to wish me on my b’day.
This is what happened when Vani called me towards the dusk of 3rd September.
Vani: “Hi! Happy B’day”
Me: Thanx, but why didn’t you call me last night. I was expecting your call
V: Yaar! YSR is missing. I was tensed
M: So tensed that you forgot about my B’day
V: He is our CM. I am concerned about him. I was glued to TV all night watching the news and trying to figure out what possibly could have happened. And most importantly will it be declared an off tomorrow?
M: Oh! That’s sad. But what is the scene now? I mean, after the news that he is dead.
V: Ah! Pretty much what I expected. It’s a holiday. I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I didn’t like YSR much. I preferred Chandrababu Naidu. But that does not mean that God had to kill him for this.
This was followed by my B’day. I had the most amazing b’day this time. The excitement of my B’day is directly related to the gifts I get. (Yes! It still does matter).
Then I was busy doing an Art of Living course, which I am not gonna talk about. Not because I am bored but coz I do not have words to pen down my experience. Those who have done their DSN, I did it with Anand Rajendraji. It was ekdam Jhakaassss
Okay! I am not gonna make this post long and boring. To cut long things short, following are one liner about the eventful month:
• Purvi (My extended room mate) won a cycle for herself out of raffle ticket (Can you believe it? Such things never happen to anyone closely or distantly related to me. Maybe this means that the curse has been removed). We were just very busy making plans of where all to go cycling and following a healthy life style by commuting to work on it, when we were told that we wont be allowed to keep it in our Hostel. She had to sell it off the very next day she got it.
• I auditioned for DPL. You’ll see it on air in the near future, so I am not gonna talk about it much
• My boss left for Singapore for 2 whole weeks. Do you even know what that mean?
• I’ll be leaving for Nagpur tonight. This is more of a vacation than an official trip. Here is what happened:
Boss: Deepali, you have to make a visit to Butibori and Hingna next week.
Deepali: (I am too lazy for any visits) Sir, I have some personall commitments. I don’t think I’ll be able to make it
Matter closed
Deepali, checks online and figures out that these 2 places are very close to Ritu’s (My old roommate and very close friend) house.
Deepali: Sir, I have decided to give my personal commitments a back seat and go for the visit
Boss: (What a dedicated employee)
- Rest when I get back. Keep visiting
Monday, August 31, 2009
I hate Albums
Albums…no.. albums. Yeah, albums. I hate albums. Especially if they do not belong to me.
I hate them so much, that I have even stopped visiting my friends and relatives. Here is what happened when I last visited a friend’s place. (name kept confidential to prevent the person’s identity)
It all started because Prachi (Lets say), my friend wanted to take a whole lifetime to get dressed for dinner. I being the punctual person, reached bang on time to discover she had just gone to take a bath. After she slammed the bathroom door shut, I turned towards the Femina magazine lying around and buried myself deep into it. I still cannot fathom what made her mother to think that I was bored. She walked up to me, with something that seemed like a pillow from a far.
“You have not seen Viren’s marriage photographs have you?”
Viren was Prachi’s brother (or sister? Can never tell). I hated him. One he wasn’t that cool that he thought himself to be, and two he hated me coz he thought I was the reason behind his sister’s low grades.
Even before I could lie that I had seen it before, and liked it, she was beside me on the couch. She was excited and understandably so. Viren was her only son and his marriage was probably her biggest single achievement in life. But why the &^%$ did she think I would be interested, I would never know.
“Nice couple, heyn?” She asked.
“Yeah. They look so happy at the moment. Poor Chap! Doesn’t know what’s in store for him,” I said. I got a cold stare, but the torture went one.
Pointing to a picture of a man and woman who looked like they were straight out of X-Files, she said: “That is his in-laws. Nice people. They even bought me a saree.”
“Wow. Great.”
“Ho… you should see the color of the saree. It is amazing. You don’t get these colors south of Baroda. Will show you the saree next time, I washed it in the morning and it might be wet.”
I let out a sigh. It was a close shave.
“Or would you want to come to the terrace?”
“No aunty, that is fine. Prachi has anyways come out,” I blurted out in sheer desperation. She was my ticket to freedom, and I was going to use her as a human shield wherever necessary.
By now, Prachi had come out. She saw me looking thro’ the album, and shouted at the top of her voice: “Mama, show her the one where I am wearing the pink lehanga. Ohh…Deeps that’s a killer.”
I tell you, it’s a sin to be punctual in this era
I hate them so much, that I have even stopped visiting my friends and relatives. Here is what happened when I last visited a friend’s place. (name kept confidential to prevent the person’s identity)
It all started because Prachi (Lets say), my friend wanted to take a whole lifetime to get dressed for dinner. I being the punctual person, reached bang on time to discover she had just gone to take a bath. After she slammed the bathroom door shut, I turned towards the Femina magazine lying around and buried myself deep into it. I still cannot fathom what made her mother to think that I was bored. She walked up to me, with something that seemed like a pillow from a far.
“You have not seen Viren’s marriage photographs have you?”
Viren was Prachi’s brother (or sister? Can never tell). I hated him. One he wasn’t that cool that he thought himself to be, and two he hated me coz he thought I was the reason behind his sister’s low grades.
Even before I could lie that I had seen it before, and liked it, she was beside me on the couch. She was excited and understandably so. Viren was her only son and his marriage was probably her biggest single achievement in life. But why the &^%$ did she think I would be interested, I would never know.
“Nice couple, heyn?” She asked.
“Yeah. They look so happy at the moment. Poor Chap! Doesn’t know what’s in store for him,” I said. I got a cold stare, but the torture went one.
Pointing to a picture of a man and woman who looked like they were straight out of X-Files, she said: “That is his in-laws. Nice people. They even bought me a saree.”
“Wow. Great.”
“Ho… you should see the color of the saree. It is amazing. You don’t get these colors south of Baroda. Will show you the saree next time, I washed it in the morning and it might be wet.”
I let out a sigh. It was a close shave.
“Or would you want to come to the terrace?”
“No aunty, that is fine. Prachi has anyways come out,” I blurted out in sheer desperation. She was my ticket to freedom, and I was going to use her as a human shield wherever necessary.
By now, Prachi had come out. She saw me looking thro’ the album, and shouted at the top of her voice: “Mama, show her the one where I am wearing the pink lehanga. Ohh…Deeps that’s a killer.”
I tell you, it’s a sin to be punctual in this era
Thursday, August 27, 2009
18 Till I Die
Yesterday, while filling up a form, I had to tick beside the check box of age group 18- 24. That is when it struck me, I am gonna be 24 and in a year I’ll be checking in 25-30 Years Age Group. As if somebody just smacked me with a bulky and solid rod of reality leaving me spell bound. I went into flash back trying to figure out, where I lost my years from 18 to 23.
Time seems to have stopped when I was 18. It was just yesterday when we had those sleepless nights one day before exams, when we were bumped out of class for being naughty, when we would lie to our parents for catching up with friends, bunking classes for watching movie on the first day, line up outside Principal’s office, those morning assemblies, morning prayers, House on duty, wrong uniform line, forging parents signatures on report cards, promising ourselves to perform better next time, gossip sessions outside cycle stand for hours after school, punctured tires, ripped seats, wet paper ball games, evening tutorials, preparing time tables one month before exams, re-scheduling time table every day, messed up room, yelling mom, no sense of responsibility, secret crushes, borrowing money from friends to lend another friend, spending more time in canteen/ foot ball ground than in classes yet giving lectures to juniors on importance of attending class, tension before results, declaration of results, comparing marks, promoted to next year, parties, night outs… blah blah blah…. I can go non-stop but that’s not what this post is about.
I have all these memories so clear in my mind that I seem not to have grown beyond 18. I have never thought of myself as a working woman, always considered myself as a kid. I am still the same as I was 6 years back (not including the extra kilos), only with some sense in my, then, empty head; an ounce of responsibility and slight maturity.
I have always known my age but it’s only when those small irritating kids of passengers travelling with you call you “Aunty” that you realize you are no more 18. In 6 days I’ll be 24. Where did time fly, where was I all this while. Is this some kind of time- travel, or was I sleeping while growing old and putting on weight? I guess when they say “a person is as old as he feels” holds true. Can’t believe I am saying this coz when I was 18 and someone said:
“Age is what you feel it to be”, I would say “yeah right!!! Grow up!!!”
When they would say, “That man never grows old who keeps a child in his heart”, I would say, “Cut the crap!!!”
Well! I was naïve back then. And Now:
“Wanna stay young for the rest of my life,
Never say “no”- try everything twice,
Till the angles come, and ask me to fly,
I’m gonna be 18, till I die.”
---- Brian Adams
It’s very difficult for me to grow old coz I have a child alive in me, I have a heart full of love in me. As I grow old I realize that I love those most whom I loved first, my family (that includes Mishti). Age is merely an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. Plus I can’t stop time. Everybody is bound to grow old, but we have an option of staying young.
“We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”
---- some wise person
Time seems to have stopped when I was 18. It was just yesterday when we had those sleepless nights one day before exams, when we were bumped out of class for being naughty, when we would lie to our parents for catching up with friends, bunking classes for watching movie on the first day, line up outside Principal’s office, those morning assemblies, morning prayers, House on duty, wrong uniform line, forging parents signatures on report cards, promising ourselves to perform better next time, gossip sessions outside cycle stand for hours after school, punctured tires, ripped seats, wet paper ball games, evening tutorials, preparing time tables one month before exams, re-scheduling time table every day, messed up room, yelling mom, no sense of responsibility, secret crushes, borrowing money from friends to lend another friend, spending more time in canteen/ foot ball ground than in classes yet giving lectures to juniors on importance of attending class, tension before results, declaration of results, comparing marks, promoted to next year, parties, night outs… blah blah blah…. I can go non-stop but that’s not what this post is about.
I have all these memories so clear in my mind that I seem not to have grown beyond 18. I have never thought of myself as a working woman, always considered myself as a kid. I am still the same as I was 6 years back (not including the extra kilos), only with some sense in my, then, empty head; an ounce of responsibility and slight maturity.
I have always known my age but it’s only when those small irritating kids of passengers travelling with you call you “Aunty” that you realize you are no more 18. In 6 days I’ll be 24. Where did time fly, where was I all this while. Is this some kind of time- travel, or was I sleeping while growing old and putting on weight? I guess when they say “a person is as old as he feels” holds true. Can’t believe I am saying this coz when I was 18 and someone said:
“Age is what you feel it to be”, I would say “yeah right!!! Grow up!!!”
When they would say, “That man never grows old who keeps a child in his heart”, I would say, “Cut the crap!!!”
Well! I was naïve back then. And Now:
“Wanna stay young for the rest of my life,
Never say “no”- try everything twice,
Till the angles come, and ask me to fly,
I’m gonna be 18, till I die.”
---- Brian Adams
It’s very difficult for me to grow old coz I have a child alive in me, I have a heart full of love in me. As I grow old I realize that I love those most whom I loved first, my family (that includes Mishti). Age is merely an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. Plus I can’t stop time. Everybody is bound to grow old, but we have an option of staying young.
“We don't stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”
---- some wise person
Monday, August 24, 2009
National Concern
I am glad our National animal is a Tiger. It is proud animal, just like we Indians. While I understand, beauty is but skin deep (never really seen a skinned tiger), I would still say tigers are beautiful animals.
Wonder what would have happened if a Pig was our national Animal? Or for that matter a Donkey…or a Mule. Or how about a Mouse? A dog? Or a skunk?
I would not want to live in a country where the National emblem has a Mouse. Would be a big let down for all Indians, except Lord Ganesha, who would love to see his vahanam being patronized.
A Donkey would not make a good sight on our coins and rupee notes. Agreed the merchants in Tamil Nadu display a donkey’s picture in their shops to boost sales (I am not making up this belief), yet, I do not think he would look good on a coin.
Imagine Indian cricketers sporting a skunk on their chest when they enter the field to take on Australia. The Kangaroos would run away. For the uninitiated, skunks are small beings that let out a very stinky substance when challenged and you are doomed for life….well almost …because it will take you a fortnight to get rid of the stink. That is, if you take bath daily in tomato juice.
Everything said and done, am glad our National Animal is not Man. Would have complicated things!
Wonder what would have happened if a Pig was our national Animal? Or for that matter a Donkey…or a Mule. Or how about a Mouse? A dog? Or a skunk?
I would not want to live in a country where the National emblem has a Mouse. Would be a big let down for all Indians, except Lord Ganesha, who would love to see his vahanam being patronized.
A Donkey would not make a good sight on our coins and rupee notes. Agreed the merchants in Tamil Nadu display a donkey’s picture in their shops to boost sales (I am not making up this belief), yet, I do not think he would look good on a coin.
Imagine Indian cricketers sporting a skunk on their chest when they enter the field to take on Australia. The Kangaroos would run away. For the uninitiated, skunks are small beings that let out a very stinky substance when challenged and you are doomed for life….well almost …because it will take you a fortnight to get rid of the stink. That is, if you take bath daily in tomato juice.
Everything said and done, am glad our National Animal is not Man. Would have complicated things!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Art of Living
Today I am gonna write about something that I truly believe in. The Art of Living organization. All those who know the person that I am, would also know that I was never a person who could sit at one place and meditate. I was never a person who could maintain peace of mind. I was always worked up. With my mind always racing and tension always surrounding me, I could never relax or be at peace. This would agitate the anger in me and as a result I would always end up blasting my loved ones. (Especially my mom, since she was the easy target).
Then I was introduced to Art of Living. (Thanks to Aatish and Jayesh). When I first heard of it, the first thought that came to my mind was “Ramdev Baba” from “Aastha Channel”. Only I know how much it annoys me when my mom turns on that channel while he is preaching. With all due respect, I personally am not fond of people who preach, for two reasons; one, it’s boring and two; I don’t think they themselves follow what they preach. I mean, it’s very simple to say “Expectations reduces joy, so do not expect”. But at one level, all of us do expect from our surroundings. Don’t we? If a human stops expecting from the people around them, from the surroundings, we would not be humans but would be considered God. This is all that I tried explaining Jayesh, but he won’t listen. All he said was, “Come, do the course and then we’ll talk”. It was pointless arguing with him, so I attended the course.
Four days (or was it five?), changed the person that I was. Now I was much more relaxed, calm and peaceful. I was in a state, which in older times was achieved by saints after years of meditation. Contrary to my personality, now I was more cool, composed and yet cheerful, joyous and happy. I could now smile in every situation. I could now face trouble with a smile. All this in just 4 days. It was beyond my expectations. There was no preaching what so ever. All we did was breathe. It was simple. I was surprised to know what I was missing in life. I was happy (not that I wasn’t happy before), but this happiness was combined with peace of mind and no botherations at all. In short, I was happier. Apart from all the above I got a Guru. H.H. Sri Sri Ravishankar. He is fondly called Guruji, since he is the master who has guided our lives in this direction.
I am writing all this today coz a few days back I convinced one of my friends to do this course and she came to my room to discuss her experience yesterday. She felt the exact same thing that I had experienced (and still am). I could feel the change in her. She was smiling, like never before. She was calm and had no thoughts bothering her. I repeat, the experience is beyond explanation. I could see that she was full of gratitude for me, since I made her do the course. It wasn’t actually me. It was her Karmas. She was handpicked to do the course, me being just the medium.
Just wanna tell you all, that there exists such a course which has an answer to all your botherations, to all the queries that you have always had. All you need to do is make an effort to go and sit in the course and rest all will be taken care of. Do it to know you better. From your entire lifetime, just devote 4 days for yourself. You have spent all these years for worldly possessions, now it’s time for yourself. Go for it. It will rock your world and teach you the Art of Living. For all you intellectual people who think that they are smart enough and already know the Art of Living, In Jayeshs’ words, “Come, do the course and then we’ll talk”.
Then I was introduced to Art of Living. (Thanks to Aatish and Jayesh). When I first heard of it, the first thought that came to my mind was “Ramdev Baba” from “Aastha Channel”. Only I know how much it annoys me when my mom turns on that channel while he is preaching. With all due respect, I personally am not fond of people who preach, for two reasons; one, it’s boring and two; I don’t think they themselves follow what they preach. I mean, it’s very simple to say “Expectations reduces joy, so do not expect”. But at one level, all of us do expect from our surroundings. Don’t we? If a human stops expecting from the people around them, from the surroundings, we would not be humans but would be considered God. This is all that I tried explaining Jayesh, but he won’t listen. All he said was, “Come, do the course and then we’ll talk”. It was pointless arguing with him, so I attended the course.
Four days (or was it five?), changed the person that I was. Now I was much more relaxed, calm and peaceful. I was in a state, which in older times was achieved by saints after years of meditation. Contrary to my personality, now I was more cool, composed and yet cheerful, joyous and happy. I could now smile in every situation. I could now face trouble with a smile. All this in just 4 days. It was beyond my expectations. There was no preaching what so ever. All we did was breathe. It was simple. I was surprised to know what I was missing in life. I was happy (not that I wasn’t happy before), but this happiness was combined with peace of mind and no botherations at all. In short, I was happier. Apart from all the above I got a Guru. H.H. Sri Sri Ravishankar. He is fondly called Guruji, since he is the master who has guided our lives in this direction.
I am writing all this today coz a few days back I convinced one of my friends to do this course and she came to my room to discuss her experience yesterday. She felt the exact same thing that I had experienced (and still am). I could feel the change in her. She was smiling, like never before. She was calm and had no thoughts bothering her. I repeat, the experience is beyond explanation. I could see that she was full of gratitude for me, since I made her do the course. It wasn’t actually me. It was her Karmas. She was handpicked to do the course, me being just the medium.
Just wanna tell you all, that there exists such a course which has an answer to all your botherations, to all the queries that you have always had. All you need to do is make an effort to go and sit in the course and rest all will be taken care of. Do it to know you better. From your entire lifetime, just devote 4 days for yourself. You have spent all these years for worldly possessions, now it’s time for yourself. Go for it. It will rock your world and teach you the Art of Living. For all you intellectual people who think that they are smart enough and already know the Art of Living, In Jayeshs’ words, “Come, do the course and then we’ll talk”.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
I am 755837839th richest person in the world!
I have always knows richness as a relative term (it brings so many relatives with it). But, my dad being in the Indian Army, we never got an opportunity to mingle with our relatives. Guess, that explains my eagerness in finding out where I stand in the big bad world and how many relatives am I blessed with.
I have always wanted to begin this journey of finding out how many people are richer than me, but the moment I would hear about the rising population of world, my enthusiasm was curbed. Knowing fully well that I will never be able to complete this survey a gentle person created this website. The journey will end tonight… at the doorsteps of a website.
I’m the 755837839 richest person on earth! Check out this website to feel good about yourself and I am sure you'll stop cribbing about your pay package.
http://www.globalrichlist.com/
Funny, I felt happy after trying out the website’s “Find out how rich are you” calculator. Man! Didn’t know I was this rich. Neither did I know the world was this poor!
With the pittance that I get in my company, I have managed to beat so many people from all over the World, in the income stakes. To be precise, I am amongst the top 12.59% richest people in the world. Phew, and I thought I was bankrupt! This definitely calls for celebration!!! Cheers
I have always wanted to begin this journey of finding out how many people are richer than me, but the moment I would hear about the rising population of world, my enthusiasm was curbed. Knowing fully well that I will never be able to complete this survey a gentle person created this website. The journey will end tonight… at the doorsteps of a website.
I’m the 755837839 richest person on earth! Check out this website to feel good about yourself and I am sure you'll stop cribbing about your pay package.
http://www.globalrichlist.com/
Funny, I felt happy after trying out the website’s “Find out how rich are you” calculator. Man! Didn’t know I was this rich. Neither did I know the world was this poor!
With the pittance that I get in my company, I have managed to beat so many people from all over the World, in the income stakes. To be precise, I am amongst the top 12.59% richest people in the world. Phew, and I thought I was bankrupt! This definitely calls for celebration!!! Cheers
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Sisterly Love
I went back to my room. Everything was just perfect, at the right place. My room looking clean, like never before. Those yellow curtains brightened up my room leaving the dazzling sunlight behind them. The room looked attractive with pink bed sheets and neatly arranged belongings. The mesmerizing fragrance of incense sticks increased the already existing aroma of my room. Everything looked fantastic. Yet, something was missing. Something was incomplete. Ah! It was her. I could feel her absence.
The moment I dropped her to the station, I had tears in my eyes. I am sure her heart was heavy too. But since we are, “Oh! Don’t be too sentimental” sisters, and “I am not dying, just going away for a while” sisters, and “We don’t hug each other enough but we have immense love for each other” sister, so no one spoke anything to each other. Last time when we expressed our love for each other, that I can remember, was, when Shanu mailed me from Singapore “Di, Thanks for all the love you showered at me in the form of unlimited shopping while I was there in Mumbai. I love you and I hope you know that, so we shall not discuss this mail hereafter”
She was in Mumbai only for 3 days and I re-lived my past in these 3 days. I had everything planned. Places to visit, movies to watch, shopping to do, everything was scheduled time to time. Even though most of it didn’t tally with my schedule, we did manage to have a lot to fun and I am sure she experienced my LOVE again. Can’t believe 4 days back I was full of enthusiasm and excitement, running all over the city, making plans, re-stocking my room with chocolates, collecting her favorite movies, and now she’s gone.
The first time she left for Singapore, I cried my eyes out. I was nothing without her (I still am not). When I was down with Jaundice, she would attend my classes. She would lose weight if I was sick. She would motivate me to study. She would guide me in every step. She would improve my fashion- sense. No one could tell that she is my younger sister (of course! height parameter not being considered). And then, when I received her first letter, I was thrilled. Almost in tears, my hand shivering with excitement, I managed to read the first sentence which read “Di, please don’t cry on reading this”, and I burst into tears. I finally had to take help of my friend to read out the letter to me.
I know I don’t say it enough, and I also know that you are very much aware of the fact that “U R my favorite” (of course! After me)… But here, I just wanna let u know that I love you beyond limits and that u r my inspiration in whatever I do. I would be nothing without you. And also let you know that I am all senti right now, so you can ask for how much ever LOVE you want, before the moment dies….
Thursday, July 30, 2009
It's all about Communication
I am missing Tina toady. It’s her birthday. Even though I shared my room with her only for 4 months, the time spent with her has become immortal. She was a mallu who could hardly speak hindi, hardly being an understatement. During our stay together my only ambition was to be able to converse with her in Hindi and her ambition being, converting me into a mallu. One of these times we went for a movie together.
Movies are communications they say. But that day I saw one, and the director failed to communicate anything to me. The heroine was pretty. The hero was a male version of Preety Zinta - chubby and energetic. And the movie was colorful. But that was all I could gather from the 22 reels shown to me.
When translated into English the movie meant - Two eyes. Ironically, that was exactly what it meant to me - visuals. Mere visuals, and nothing else.
I sat there like a just born baby, just going through the motions. I did not understand the language being used. The elders went about their job. A few laughed, a few cried, but it meant nothing to me. I was straight faced. Atleast till they announced the interval.
After five minutes of `good time` the movie started again. And again, as was expected, I was ignored.
Luckily, I had not paid for the tickets. Moreover, I was paid Rs 200, to be present for the movie. Actually, I had turned into a mercenary, for I was doing things I did not like, just for money.
With experience to back the long time belief I had held, I decided not to watch a malayalam movie, until I learnt the language.
But how do I learn the language? I went about asking Tina, and here is the advice as I got it - “Dude, watch a lot of malayalam movies, and in no time you will be able to comprehend the language.”
Yeah, Right!
Movies are communications they say. But that day I saw one, and the director failed to communicate anything to me. The heroine was pretty. The hero was a male version of Preety Zinta - chubby and energetic. And the movie was colorful. But that was all I could gather from the 22 reels shown to me.
When translated into English the movie meant - Two eyes. Ironically, that was exactly what it meant to me - visuals. Mere visuals, and nothing else.
I sat there like a just born baby, just going through the motions. I did not understand the language being used. The elders went about their job. A few laughed, a few cried, but it meant nothing to me. I was straight faced. Atleast till they announced the interval.
After five minutes of `good time` the movie started again. And again, as was expected, I was ignored.
Luckily, I had not paid for the tickets. Moreover, I was paid Rs 200, to be present for the movie. Actually, I had turned into a mercenary, for I was doing things I did not like, just for money.
With experience to back the long time belief I had held, I decided not to watch a malayalam movie, until I learnt the language.
But how do I learn the language? I went about asking Tina, and here is the advice as I got it - “Dude, watch a lot of malayalam movies, and in no time you will be able to comprehend the language.”
Yeah, Right!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Best Moments in Life
So this is one of those days in my life where I am forced to wonder “What the hell am I doing with my life?” Usually when I get such mood swings I talk to people who are out of work or I start looking for different options in life, then I chalk out a PLAN for myself, write it down on the “To do” list, call up people who can help me achieve this and surf the net (and people say that I don’t make an effort!!!). And after a while, when this feeling is gone I resume back to my work and file the list in my “Things to do before I die” list.
But today I plan to do something different. I need to bring a change to my tedious “Get over it” routine. I plan to list down all the things that make me cheerful and rejoice. So here it goes: Times when I….
1. Laugh until it hurts my stomach
2. Find mails from hundreds of people when I return from a vacation
3. Times when RJs play my favorite songs one after another
4. Wake up and the first thing I see is beautiful weather outside.
5. Leave the shower and find that the towel is warm
6. Find the pages of my book BRAND NEW just before the exam and then I decide to switch to last 3 year’s solved question papers.
7. Receive a call from a loved one , out of the blue, just to say “I Miss You”
8. Find money in my pant that I haven’t used since last year.
9. Bunk college coz of my Bad Hair Day
10. Times when my calls at midnight would last for hours
11. Times when I would laugh without a reason
12. Times when I accidentally hear somebody say something good about me.
13. Times when I wake up and realize it is still possible to sleep for a couple of hours.
14. Times when I hear a song that makes me remember a special person.
15. Times when I was a part of a Gang
16. Times when I watch sunset from the hill top
17. Times when I make new friends
18. Times when I feel butterflies in my tummy everytime I would zoom down a slope
19. Pass time with my best friend
20. Use a sweater of a special and find that it still smells of their perfume.
21. See an old friend and to feel that things have not changed
22. Laugh…. Laugh…. And laugh…. Remembering stupid things done with stupid friends
Ah! My intuition was right. Change does make you feel good… Now I’ll have to think of something different to do when I get my next attack.
But today I plan to do something different. I need to bring a change to my tedious “Get over it” routine. I plan to list down all the things that make me cheerful and rejoice. So here it goes: Times when I….
1. Laugh until it hurts my stomach
2. Find mails from hundreds of people when I return from a vacation
3. Times when RJs play my favorite songs one after another
4. Wake up and the first thing I see is beautiful weather outside.
5. Leave the shower and find that the towel is warm
6. Find the pages of my book BRAND NEW just before the exam and then I decide to switch to last 3 year’s solved question papers.
7. Receive a call from a loved one , out of the blue, just to say “I Miss You”
8. Find money in my pant that I haven’t used since last year.
9. Bunk college coz of my Bad Hair Day
10. Times when my calls at midnight would last for hours
11. Times when I would laugh without a reason
12. Times when I accidentally hear somebody say something good about me.
13. Times when I wake up and realize it is still possible to sleep for a couple of hours.
14. Times when I hear a song that makes me remember a special person.
15. Times when I was a part of a Gang
16. Times when I watch sunset from the hill top
17. Times when I make new friends
18. Times when I feel butterflies in my tummy everytime I would zoom down a slope
19. Pass time with my best friend
20. Use a sweater of a special and find that it still smells of their perfume.
21. See an old friend and to feel that things have not changed
22. Laugh…. Laugh…. And laugh…. Remembering stupid things done with stupid friends
Ah! My intuition was right. Change does make you feel good… Now I’ll have to think of something different to do when I get my next attack.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Jacko Wacko
Long Long ago, an inquisitive boy asked his dad, “Dad, is God Black or White?”
“My Dear Child, God is neither Black nor White”, answered his Dad with a smile on his face.
“Dad, is God Male or Female?” The child asked out of curiosity
“Son, God is neither Male nor Female.” Replied his dad.
The next day, this kid goes upto all his friends and says “I know who is God. It’s Michael Jackson.”
That was the day when entire Gamut of people started worshiping King of Pop. He was indeed a King. He changed the definition of Music. There was a time when one could see kids moon walking to their class rooms. 7 out of 10 kids would dress up like MJ for a fancy dress competition, not only because they admired him but because he was the easiest to replicate. Long curly hair shabbily tied with one streak of hair falling on forehead, lotsa powder on face, Dark Red Lipstick, white shirt, black over coat, black trousers upto ankles, White Socks, Black Shoes and a Black hat. That is all you needed.
I have always known MJ and heard his music, but it was only during MBA days that I actually observed him and started admiring him. Thanks to Debu, who was glued to MJ. He would make us sit in front of his Laptop while he played MJ’s videos. And when we tried to protest, he would threaten us in MJ Thriller style… Debu was right… This guy did dance like a melted piece of butter falling off a spoon. But I wasn’t the only one who had been inspired by Micheal Jackson. A Telugu movie director made his own Indian version of ‘Thriller’ and the video on Youtube has got 15,741,543 views. (Code word: Indian Thriller)
Apparently, in the late 80s the comedians the World over had started to target Michael Jackson. He was an easy butt-end for various jokes…what with skin color, skin condition, child molestation controversies, his pet monkey which used to sleep in a crib inside his bedroom, his Peter Pan pretensions, his ranch called Neverland, his military clothes, etc.
The first Michael Jackson joke I heard was:
Question: “How does Michael Jackson pick his nose?”
Answer: From a catalog.
Now since he is dead he is free from all those controversies. I am sure they’ll accept him well in Heaven. (They do accept Plastic right?)
“My Dear Child, God is neither Black nor White”, answered his Dad with a smile on his face.
“Dad, is God Male or Female?” The child asked out of curiosity
“Son, God is neither Male nor Female.” Replied his dad.
The next day, this kid goes upto all his friends and says “I know who is God. It’s Michael Jackson.”
That was the day when entire Gamut of people started worshiping King of Pop. He was indeed a King. He changed the definition of Music. There was a time when one could see kids moon walking to their class rooms. 7 out of 10 kids would dress up like MJ for a fancy dress competition, not only because they admired him but because he was the easiest to replicate. Long curly hair shabbily tied with one streak of hair falling on forehead, lotsa powder on face, Dark Red Lipstick, white shirt, black over coat, black trousers upto ankles, White Socks, Black Shoes and a Black hat. That is all you needed.
I have always known MJ and heard his music, but it was only during MBA days that I actually observed him and started admiring him. Thanks to Debu, who was glued to MJ. He would make us sit in front of his Laptop while he played MJ’s videos. And when we tried to protest, he would threaten us in MJ Thriller style… Debu was right… This guy did dance like a melted piece of butter falling off a spoon. But I wasn’t the only one who had been inspired by Micheal Jackson. A Telugu movie director made his own Indian version of ‘Thriller’ and the video on Youtube has got 15,741,543 views. (Code word: Indian Thriller)
Apparently, in the late 80s the comedians the World over had started to target Michael Jackson. He was an easy butt-end for various jokes…what with skin color, skin condition, child molestation controversies, his pet monkey which used to sleep in a crib inside his bedroom, his Peter Pan pretensions, his ranch called Neverland, his military clothes, etc.
The first Michael Jackson joke I heard was:
Question: “How does Michael Jackson pick his nose?”
Answer: From a catalog.
Now since he is dead he is free from all those controversies. I am sure they’ll accept him well in Heaven. (They do accept Plastic right?)
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Little Drops From Heaven
After days of sulking in hot sun, continuous praying to the rain god and non-stop cribbing about the constant rising heat, rain birds have finally shot their arrows at the clouds and inaugurated the much awaited monsoons. Hooray!!! It rained yesterday. Mumbaikars finally had a smile on their faces, everybody seemed to be rejoicing. I could see people sitting in their balcony and admiring the little rain drops from heaven. The weather was never so romantic and never so pleasant. This was the time to go out with a loved one for a long drive on a bike or simply take a stroll in the rain while holding hands. The entire evening was so peaceful and soothing. The scene was a feast for the eyes and treat for ears.
While I stood in my veranda and saw children of the colony came out to play football in the rain, I extended my head and opened my mouth to catch a few drops. It was delicious, much more than any exotic ice cream. The ‘first rain scent’ or as we call it ‘mitti ki khushbu’ is much more enjoyable and pleasurable than any exclusive Aroma.
To some, rains bring joy by its aesthetic appeal but to some it has negative effect. Rain metaphorically has a sad connotation- reflected in children’s rhymes like “Rain Rain Go Away”- in contrast to the bright and happy sun. While some people play and dance in the rain, some prefer to shut their doors and windows and stay inside their houses.
Ever wondered what would happen if there were no rains? Except for the ecological imbalance, what would be the other consequences? Rain coats and gum boots would seem pointless, there would be no fun in jumping into a puddle and slashing nothing at people, we would never experience the joy of having garam pakodas and sipping hot tea at a roadside tapri with friends. We would never get to see a rainbow (not that we get to see that in Mumbai anyways). Romance in hindi movies would be in hot sun under a tree; songs like “tip tip barsa pani”, “rimjhim rimjhim”, and “dekho barish ho rahi hai” wouldn’t make sense. Mumbai would never get flooded and we will have to work without expecting an off. There’ll be no more paper boats floating on stagnant water and no more wet football grounds.
I personally love rain, as long as I don’t dirty my clothes on my way to work.
While I stood in my veranda and saw children of the colony came out to play football in the rain, I extended my head and opened my mouth to catch a few drops. It was delicious, much more than any exotic ice cream. The ‘first rain scent’ or as we call it ‘mitti ki khushbu’ is much more enjoyable and pleasurable than any exclusive Aroma.
To some, rains bring joy by its aesthetic appeal but to some it has negative effect. Rain metaphorically has a sad connotation- reflected in children’s rhymes like “Rain Rain Go Away”- in contrast to the bright and happy sun. While some people play and dance in the rain, some prefer to shut their doors and windows and stay inside their houses.
Ever wondered what would happen if there were no rains? Except for the ecological imbalance, what would be the other consequences? Rain coats and gum boots would seem pointless, there would be no fun in jumping into a puddle and slashing nothing at people, we would never experience the joy of having garam pakodas and sipping hot tea at a roadside tapri with friends. We would never get to see a rainbow (not that we get to see that in Mumbai anyways). Romance in hindi movies would be in hot sun under a tree; songs like “tip tip barsa pani”, “rimjhim rimjhim”, and “dekho barish ho rahi hai” wouldn’t make sense. Mumbai would never get flooded and we will have to work without expecting an off. There’ll be no more paper boats floating on stagnant water and no more wet football grounds.
I personally love rain, as long as I don’t dirty my clothes on my way to work.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
World gets blurry without them
My Grandmother is over eighty and still doesn’t need glasses. Drinks right out of the bottle.
- Henny Youngman (1906 - 1998)
I have been wearing glasses (not the whiskey ones) since I was in class IX. As proof I even have a mark on the bridge of my nose. My glasses have now become an indispensable part of my life. My mother, when she wakes up in the morning, first thing, she folds her hands and prays to god. My morning begins with a hunt for my glasses; else I won’t be able to see God.
As a kid, I have always wished for glasses. I was awestruck with those big sunglasses Karishma Kapoor and Divya Bharati would wear, making it a style statement. When I put my desire of buying similar sunglasses, my mom bluntly refused saying that I was too young for Fashion. (I wonder what the right age is for Fashion). That is when it struck me that spectacles are no different from sunglasses.
Anyways, so after years of rigorous practice, watching TV in the dark, studying with my book almost touching my nose, etc. Finally in IXth standard, during our medical check up, I was unable to read the alphabets on doctors’ screen. Even though I had mugged up the order of alphabets, being the honest person that I am, I was true to myself and the doctor and finally was declared half blind.
My parents were then called to school by my class teacher.
“Please, get her glasses… I don’t think she can see what I write on the black board” she told my mother.
I interfered, “Madam, will I be able to read after I start wearing glasses?”
“Sure Deepali. Why not?” My teacher was very encouraging.
“Because my mother thinks one needs to learn ABCD… before one can start reading.”
Anyway, like I was saying… the first time I landed at an Optician for my pair of glasses, my father looked at a few spectacles, placed a fewer still on my nose and looked at me from far and near… and then handed me a pair that were NOT so cool. They were big, round, Grandpa Type spectacles which would cover my entire face. Sure I wanted those BIG sunglasses, but the time gap from when I prayed for them and now was tremendous and they were out of fashion. I told this to my dad, but according to him “Fashion moves in a cycle, and after a couple of years, these spectacles will be in style again”. So I was supposed to wait for that time with this bulky asset on my nose.
If you are somebody who has spent a good amount of time with bad eyes but no spectacles, you will agree that the world becomes a lot more colorful and clearer with glasses on the bridge of your nose. I could see everything now. So much so, I could see right through peoples’ character. During our exam, I could see Mahesh, my desk-mate, copying word-to-word of what I wrote. Earlier I always thought he was just being nice and trying to see, if I had copied the question correctly from black board.
Spectacles help build a person’s character. I learnt this fact when I had to go on stage and give a speech in school. I decided to go on without my spectacles, so I couldn’t see people making faces and boo hooting me. That’s when everybody thought that I was a very confident person and it boosted up my morale.
It’s been 10 years now (a few years of contact lenses in between) that my eyes have been through good and bad times. And after so many years of different frames, I have again shifted back to my first type, “Grandpa Type”. But a lot more classier.
- Henny Youngman (1906 - 1998)
I have been wearing glasses (not the whiskey ones) since I was in class IX. As proof I even have a mark on the bridge of my nose. My glasses have now become an indispensable part of my life. My mother, when she wakes up in the morning, first thing, she folds her hands and prays to god. My morning begins with a hunt for my glasses; else I won’t be able to see God.
As a kid, I have always wished for glasses. I was awestruck with those big sunglasses Karishma Kapoor and Divya Bharati would wear, making it a style statement. When I put my desire of buying similar sunglasses, my mom bluntly refused saying that I was too young for Fashion. (I wonder what the right age is for Fashion). That is when it struck me that spectacles are no different from sunglasses.
Anyways, so after years of rigorous practice, watching TV in the dark, studying with my book almost touching my nose, etc. Finally in IXth standard, during our medical check up, I was unable to read the alphabets on doctors’ screen. Even though I had mugged up the order of alphabets, being the honest person that I am, I was true to myself and the doctor and finally was declared half blind.
My parents were then called to school by my class teacher.
“Please, get her glasses… I don’t think she can see what I write on the black board” she told my mother.
I interfered, “Madam, will I be able to read after I start wearing glasses?”
“Sure Deepali. Why not?” My teacher was very encouraging.
“Because my mother thinks one needs to learn ABCD… before one can start reading.”
Anyway, like I was saying… the first time I landed at an Optician for my pair of glasses, my father looked at a few spectacles, placed a fewer still on my nose and looked at me from far and near… and then handed me a pair that were NOT so cool. They were big, round, Grandpa Type spectacles which would cover my entire face. Sure I wanted those BIG sunglasses, but the time gap from when I prayed for them and now was tremendous and they were out of fashion. I told this to my dad, but according to him “Fashion moves in a cycle, and after a couple of years, these spectacles will be in style again”. So I was supposed to wait for that time with this bulky asset on my nose.
If you are somebody who has spent a good amount of time with bad eyes but no spectacles, you will agree that the world becomes a lot more colorful and clearer with glasses on the bridge of your nose. I could see everything now. So much so, I could see right through peoples’ character. During our exam, I could see Mahesh, my desk-mate, copying word-to-word of what I wrote. Earlier I always thought he was just being nice and trying to see, if I had copied the question correctly from black board.
Spectacles help build a person’s character. I learnt this fact when I had to go on stage and give a speech in school. I decided to go on without my spectacles, so I couldn’t see people making faces and boo hooting me. That’s when everybody thought that I was a very confident person and it boosted up my morale.
It’s been 10 years now (a few years of contact lenses in between) that my eyes have been through good and bad times. And after so many years of different frames, I have again shifted back to my first type, “Grandpa Type”. But a lot more classier.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Betty is the one
I have known him for long… Even before Monica, Rachael, Joey, Phoebe, Chandler and Ross became a part of my life and yet prior to I started relating to the characters of “Hip Hip Hooray”, a show aired on Zee TV about school life. I became so addicted to it, that there was one point of time I could hallucinate the characters around me. I wished that somehow, my actual friends get replaced by these characters (even though I don’t remember their names now). And even before I had a crush on Salman Khan… I have known and loved Archie Andrews. So much so, that I had a copy of Archie in Bathroom, a copy under my pillow, in my books, in my drawer, in my bag, in TV room…
Archie was the coolest guy ever. Only he is the one who can date one girl each night without annoying the previous ones. Only he is the one who can play pranks on his school principal and get detained every week, yet be his favorite. Only he is the one who can hang out late with his pals and not bother about his home work, since Betty is there to take care of it. Only he is the one who does not have to bother about money matters, Ronnie is always there to help. He has the best friend Jughead, who would even fall from a cliff for him (at yet not be hurt). He is the hero of Riverdale.
For those who have no clue, what I am talking about, Archie Comics is all about school friends, how they live, eat, stay, behave, fight, love, hate and relate to each other…all done in a tasteful manner!
Here is a quick introduction of the main characters:
• Archibald “Archie” Andrews, main character, a typical red- headed teenage boy with a great interest in dating. He tends to be clumsy and accident prone.
• Elizabeth “Betty” Cooper, the blonde girl next door, who is a good student, athlete, cook, and auto mechanic. She is very obsessive over her major crush, 'Archie Andrews'.
• Veronica “Ronnie/Ron” Lodge, the rich, sometimes nice and sometimes snobbish girl. Betty's best friend and rival for Archie's affections.
• Forsythe Pendleton “Jughead” Jones III, Archie's best friend, Jughead is sarcastic, obsessed with eating, lazy, and apathetic towards girls; however he is also portrayed to be very clever and knowledgeable on a wide variety of subjects, being second only to Dilton Doiley.
• Reginald “Reggie” Mantle III, the vain and conceited practical joker who thinks he can date anyone he wants.
I grew up my teens with these characters… They were like my own friends. I ate, cried and laughed with them… I have loved them all. I have admired Betty and Veronica. How can they manage to look beautiful even while they are asleep?
But somehow, I have always been a bit partial to Betty than Veronica. And now after 65 years, since Archie has chosen Veronica over Betty, my heart goes out for poor Betty. She has always been around Archie, religiously done his home work, cooked food for him when he was kicked out, helped him wash his dads’ car… she has been like that Vodafone pug (followed him wherever he went), yet the current recession took a toll on Archie and he chose money over true love.
I cant wait for August issue to read what happens next. But I do pray that Archie, towards the end, realizes that Betty is the one for him…
Monday, June 1, 2009
What an Encounter!!!
I have always wanted to meet God. I belong to the generation that grew up watching Arun Govil and Deepika together on Television – as Lord Rama and Sita in Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan - and thus started to associate them with God. If you are as old as I am, you probably remember that Arun Govil and Deepika were hounded with agarbathis and aartis wherever they went….but I didn’t go that far. The 10 year old that I was, I just gave them the God status.
As a kid, I had asked for a big pink colored Barbie house from God, but he didn’t oblige and instead settled me down for a small Barbie caravan. So when he didn’t listen to me, I started considering Nitish Bharadwaj (the guy who played Krishna in TV Serial, Mahabharata) as real God.
When Lord Krishna also spurned my advances and didn’t deliver when it mattered most- national painting award- I realized Nitish wasn’t God either.
With time, I stopped looking for God, when I realized I was God myself. But that too faded away, when I started working. I met a few people who thought they were God… but none good enough to be placed on a pedestal. Some of these people were way up the corporate ladder and could make a difference in my career… so I stayed in touch with them. As for the rest, who cares for the sages when you have the Gods in your pocket?
To cut the long story short, my search for God ended last evening. I met him. Yes, it was a him. A very handsome one. Tall, Fair and Handsome.
I was on the way back from my office when I saw this man in white, in the middle of the road. I stopped by him and shouted “Don’t tell me you want to die so young?”
“I have no death young girl”, his voice seemed to have an echo that I hadn’t heard anywhere before.
I looked around… there was nobody on the road. I looked at the man, and he was looking attractive. I wasn’t surprised. If I were God and was creating myself, why wouldn’t I make myself another Aishwaraya Rai?
I somehow summoned up enough courage and asked him “Who are you…. Why are you standing in the middle of the road?”
“I am who I am. You have to figure out if I am a messenger of God… or I am God himself?” He said without blinking.
The street lamp was forming a halo around his head.
“So where are you going?” I insisted.
“I am in search of my best devotee”. His eyes were glazed, and I had a feeling he wasn’t actually looking at me.
“Does this person stay at any place. Any place nearby?”
“Anybody can be this person. Just have to show devotion, which I can appreciate”. He said.
Suddenly, everything fell into place. This is exactly the kind of dialogues Arun Govil and Nitish Bharadwaj would reel out in the two epics on Television. This man was actually God who had come to the World looking for an ardent devotee.
Without wasting any time I told him about my problems in life and sought his blessings.
Having finally seen God, I thought it my responsibility to take him to his home- the nearby Sai Baba temple. I then went home a satisfied gal… for I had finally seen God.
Next morning, there was a lot of chaos outside the building. People from mental asylum were looking for a young and handsome patient, who escaped last evening and pretends to be God.
As a kid, I had asked for a big pink colored Barbie house from God, but he didn’t oblige and instead settled me down for a small Barbie caravan. So when he didn’t listen to me, I started considering Nitish Bharadwaj (the guy who played Krishna in TV Serial, Mahabharata) as real God.
When Lord Krishna also spurned my advances and didn’t deliver when it mattered most- national painting award- I realized Nitish wasn’t God either.
With time, I stopped looking for God, when I realized I was God myself. But that too faded away, when I started working. I met a few people who thought they were God… but none good enough to be placed on a pedestal. Some of these people were way up the corporate ladder and could make a difference in my career… so I stayed in touch with them. As for the rest, who cares for the sages when you have the Gods in your pocket?
To cut the long story short, my search for God ended last evening. I met him. Yes, it was a him. A very handsome one. Tall, Fair and Handsome.
I was on the way back from my office when I saw this man in white, in the middle of the road. I stopped by him and shouted “Don’t tell me you want to die so young?”
“I have no death young girl”, his voice seemed to have an echo that I hadn’t heard anywhere before.
I looked around… there was nobody on the road. I looked at the man, and he was looking attractive. I wasn’t surprised. If I were God and was creating myself, why wouldn’t I make myself another Aishwaraya Rai?
I somehow summoned up enough courage and asked him “Who are you…. Why are you standing in the middle of the road?”
“I am who I am. You have to figure out if I am a messenger of God… or I am God himself?” He said without blinking.
The street lamp was forming a halo around his head.
“So where are you going?” I insisted.
“I am in search of my best devotee”. His eyes were glazed, and I had a feeling he wasn’t actually looking at me.
“Does this person stay at any place. Any place nearby?”
“Anybody can be this person. Just have to show devotion, which I can appreciate”. He said.
Suddenly, everything fell into place. This is exactly the kind of dialogues Arun Govil and Nitish Bharadwaj would reel out in the two epics on Television. This man was actually God who had come to the World looking for an ardent devotee.
Without wasting any time I told him about my problems in life and sought his blessings.
Having finally seen God, I thought it my responsibility to take him to his home- the nearby Sai Baba temple. I then went home a satisfied gal… for I had finally seen God.
Next morning, there was a lot of chaos outside the building. People from mental asylum were looking for a young and handsome patient, who escaped last evening and pretends to be God.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Dead End
Everybody I know (or don’t know) is getting married. It’s almost like a new trend. Just now Amit told me, Abhishek is getting married today. What is wrong with everybody?
Can you believe, most of the forwards circulated, much talked about topic is “the ill effects of marriage”, even then people don’t learn. Why wouldn’t they listen? If they are blinded and deafen by, the so called, LOVE, I can understand. But why otherwise? I have heard there is no freedom of speech after marriage, there is continuous nagging and 24X7 demanding after marriage, no limit to expectations. I have also heard, girls tend to eat more and gain weight after marriage. Why would you want to give up all your freedom, shopping, dancing, camping with friends, clean house, never cooking, no arguments, travel, entire bed, and high self esteem?
In any other relationship, at least there is a way out, but there isn’t any in marriage. Maybe that’s why it’s called “Wedlock”. Two people are locked in it forever.
If two people are truly in LOVE and know they are made for each other, well and good. They have all the reasons to marry as soon as they get “License to Wed”. But if they are not in love, the only reasons I can think of, for them to get married at an early age are: Most of them are true for women.
1. Parental pressure
2. Want to live an easy life by marrying a millionaire
3. Bored of working. Now want to quit and sit back at home and relax.
4. Pressure from society. When you see all your friends getting married and don’t want fingers to be pointed at you.
5. Love attending weddings, so thought of attending your own wedding. This would include love getting dressed up.
6. When nobody listens to you, and you have a feeling that at least after marriage your partner would.
7. To kill boredom and loneliness
8. To find a bunch of whole new relatives. You get a mother, a father, a few sisters-in-law, half dozen cousins, and countless relatives for free. Basically to socialize. These relatives could also help you with your career.
9. Because it’s one of those logical steps in the sequence of life. Check job, check car, check marriage.
10. Want to give it a shot
11. For all the gifts you will get at the wedding.
“Wise men say, only fools rush in”. Wise men also say the following:
Quote 1: After marriage, husband and wife become two sides of a coin; they just can’t face each other, but still they stay together.
Quote 2: “I’ve had bad luck with both my wives. The first one left me, and the second one didn’t.”
Quote 3: I had some words with my wife, and she had some paragraphs with me.
Quote 4: The most effective way to remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.
Can you believe, most of the forwards circulated, much talked about topic is “the ill effects of marriage”, even then people don’t learn. Why wouldn’t they listen? If they are blinded and deafen by, the so called, LOVE, I can understand. But why otherwise? I have heard there is no freedom of speech after marriage, there is continuous nagging and 24X7 demanding after marriage, no limit to expectations. I have also heard, girls tend to eat more and gain weight after marriage. Why would you want to give up all your freedom, shopping, dancing, camping with friends, clean house, never cooking, no arguments, travel, entire bed, and high self esteem?
In any other relationship, at least there is a way out, but there isn’t any in marriage. Maybe that’s why it’s called “Wedlock”. Two people are locked in it forever.
If two people are truly in LOVE and know they are made for each other, well and good. They have all the reasons to marry as soon as they get “License to Wed”. But if they are not in love, the only reasons I can think of, for them to get married at an early age are: Most of them are true for women.
1. Parental pressure
2. Want to live an easy life by marrying a millionaire
3. Bored of working. Now want to quit and sit back at home and relax.
4. Pressure from society. When you see all your friends getting married and don’t want fingers to be pointed at you.
5. Love attending weddings, so thought of attending your own wedding. This would include love getting dressed up.
6. When nobody listens to you, and you have a feeling that at least after marriage your partner would.
7. To kill boredom and loneliness
8. To find a bunch of whole new relatives. You get a mother, a father, a few sisters-in-law, half dozen cousins, and countless relatives for free. Basically to socialize. These relatives could also help you with your career.
9. Because it’s one of those logical steps in the sequence of life. Check job, check car, check marriage.
10. Want to give it a shot
11. For all the gifts you will get at the wedding.
“Wise men say, only fools rush in”. Wise men also say the following:
Quote 1: After marriage, husband and wife become two sides of a coin; they just can’t face each other, but still they stay together.
Quote 2: “I’ve had bad luck with both my wives. The first one left me, and the second one didn’t.”
Quote 3: I had some words with my wife, and she had some paragraphs with me.
Quote 4: The most effective way to remember your wife’s birthday is to forget it once.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Don't mess with me
Somebody had said “Revenge is a dish best served cold” and they are still trying to find out who said it. Don’t believe me? Check out Wikipedia’s page on ‘revenge’.
In all years of my life, I have had my share of revenges. It all began when I was in class three and somebody stole my scented erasers. In those days, relatives coming from countries like Singapore and Malaysia would hand us cylindrical, scented erasers in fancy plastic containers. The containers would be in various shapes…and mine was a pink peacock. I remember the eraser being a major hit in my class.
As luck would have it, I lost it after a few weeks. An average eight-years-old girl would have suspected the whole World if she lost her scented eraser. But not me, Sir. We Jamwals know our enemies when we see them…and that’s why I zeroed in on my classmate Akanksha Dutta (Name changed to keep the identity a secret). She was the only suspect because my peacock shaped scented eraser had dethroned her Mickey Mouse eraser!
Back then, I didn’t know that revenge was a dish best served cold…so I decided to act the same day.
I laid out my plans. I couldn’t steal her Mickey Mouse eraser because I would have been the prime suspect. I couldn’t cut her eraser into two because the whole class knew that I carried a Topaz blade in my geometry box. And I couldn’t draw moustache on her Mickey Mouse eraser container because I only had sketch pens which were not permanent and she would have easily washed it clean.
After days of thinking, my plan was devised. On the D-day, when Akanksha was not near her geometry box, I stole the scented eraser but left the Mickey Mouse container intact. This was to give her the false impression that she still had her eraser.
The moment I stole the eraser, I placed it in water so that it lost its scent. After having her eraser submerged in water for 24 hours, I placed it back in her Mickey Mouse like container. For days after that, Akanksha went around telling people that her scented rubber didn’t smell of mint as it used to. I just smiled.
After that, I have taken revenge at all phases of my life. I have locked up a girl in her hostel room and threw the keys, I made a doll out of a black sock and put it outside another girls’ room to make her believe that she was haunted, I have punctured tires, I have written scary anonymous letters and much more.
The moment I post graduated, I thought all the revenge taking would end. But, to my surprise, it still continues. A colleague has managed to fan the flames. Now I have to think of some cleverer tricks (Which I shall put up after another 20 years).
In all years of my life, I have had my share of revenges. It all began when I was in class three and somebody stole my scented erasers. In those days, relatives coming from countries like Singapore and Malaysia would hand us cylindrical, scented erasers in fancy plastic containers. The containers would be in various shapes…and mine was a pink peacock. I remember the eraser being a major hit in my class.
As luck would have it, I lost it after a few weeks. An average eight-years-old girl would have suspected the whole World if she lost her scented eraser. But not me, Sir. We Jamwals know our enemies when we see them…and that’s why I zeroed in on my classmate Akanksha Dutta (Name changed to keep the identity a secret). She was the only suspect because my peacock shaped scented eraser had dethroned her Mickey Mouse eraser!
Back then, I didn’t know that revenge was a dish best served cold…so I decided to act the same day.
I laid out my plans. I couldn’t steal her Mickey Mouse eraser because I would have been the prime suspect. I couldn’t cut her eraser into two because the whole class knew that I carried a Topaz blade in my geometry box. And I couldn’t draw moustache on her Mickey Mouse eraser container because I only had sketch pens which were not permanent and she would have easily washed it clean.
After days of thinking, my plan was devised. On the D-day, when Akanksha was not near her geometry box, I stole the scented eraser but left the Mickey Mouse container intact. This was to give her the false impression that she still had her eraser.
The moment I stole the eraser, I placed it in water so that it lost its scent. After having her eraser submerged in water for 24 hours, I placed it back in her Mickey Mouse like container. For days after that, Akanksha went around telling people that her scented rubber didn’t smell of mint as it used to. I just smiled.
After that, I have taken revenge at all phases of my life. I have locked up a girl in her hostel room and threw the keys, I made a doll out of a black sock and put it outside another girls’ room to make her believe that she was haunted, I have punctured tires, I have written scary anonymous letters and much more.
The moment I post graduated, I thought all the revenge taking would end. But, to my surprise, it still continues. A colleague has managed to fan the flames. Now I have to think of some cleverer tricks (Which I shall put up after another 20 years).
Monday, April 27, 2009
Those were the days
I was home for a long (really long) time… and when you are home for so long, after a certain point of time life gets boring. I mean, how much can you sleep or watch TV or walk your dog? So was my case. In the meanwhile, I thought of clearing up my old boxes.
I opened the first box and the first thing I saw, filled my heart with memories of my past. It was a slam book from my school (7th school out of 9 schools). It was signed by all my “good friends”, “bad friends”, “okay friends”, “hated friends” and “teachers” (that’s how I had categorized them). C’mon, we were kids and had no clue of maturity. Speaking of no maturity, those were the days when, without any rhyme or reason, a girl and a boy would be linked up for reasons like “They both blush when around each other”, “They both come in the same school bus”, “They both study together”, etc. And then, next thing you know, the girl would tie a Rakhi to the guy. That’s the reason half the school would remain empty on Raksha bandhan.
That was the time when everyone had a secret crush and would admire secretly. But when caught admiring, would pretend like it’s a huge misconception. They would then write his name in books (at least girls do that) and then play those games where you check your compatibility level (I think it’s called FLAMES). First crushes are always memorable. Even I had a “First crush” and then second, third, fourth, and don’t remember how many.
One of the most heartwarming belongings that I found in “The box of recollections” was my school diary. It had the school prayer printed on the first page, pledge on the second and some torn pages (I think those were the messages from my school teacher for my parents). It also had a daily “Time-Table” printed on the last page, out of which Games period, SUPW period and Lab sessions were highlighted and decorated. I remember how our preferences of days would depend on our time table. I always preferred Saturdays because we had 2 games period. We were supposed to wear PT shoes on days we had our games period. I would spend hours to neatly polish my shoes white, which would take just few hours on the play ground to get sunken under layers of dust (before even the assembly could begin) and no one would believe me when I stood in the “Untidy Uniform” line.
We had 2 such lines “Late comers” and “Wrong Uniform”, which included long nails, untidy uniform, wrong socks, wrong shoes, wrong belt, wrong ribbons, long hair not plated, short hair not clipped, etc. leaving no scope for me to escape. That’s the reason; first period was attended by just a handful while the rest of the students would be kneeling down in the sun. I started enjoying these sessions, when I was amongst the cabinet members and would punish students (even though none of the younger students ever listened to me). They would give me chocolates and I would let them go (of course, without getting it to Srikanth’s knowledge)
Talking about coming late to class, I also used to enjoy decorating the “Bulletin Board” and writing “Thought for the day”. That ways, I could waste another 15 minutes of class. By the ways, teachers always hated such students, who would take up such voluntary work. They always thought students did that to avoid attending their class. (I wonder what made them think that?)
I also found “My personal Diary” in the box. Which was so personal, that it had a “Danger” sign drawn on the cover. I would carry it with me everywhere till the time I realized how “kiddish” was the stuff written in it. It had all the names of people I knew, Things I liked about them, People I hated, along with reasons to hate them. One of the reasons, I hated a person was “Simply”. It also had some of my best moments and some of the worst moments. Apparently, my best moment was when I secured full marks in Social Studies and I hate watching, small puppies roaming on road without their mummies.
Then, during the end of every year, sale of autograph diaries would increase. People would start filling up each other’s diaries, like they are never gonna meet each other again. In some cases it would be true but in some it was just out of excitement of filling an autograph diary and feeling important. Everybody would fill up everybody’s’ diary (even if we had not spoken to each other) and then girls would group up and read what their secret crush had written in “About me”, “Hobbies”, “Best Friends”, “Lines about you”, “Why I like you”, “Why I dislike you”, etc. People would buy colorful pens to fill up diaries. Those were the best times.
Those were the times when we could hang out with friends for hours without realizing the time, but when it came to sitting with guests at home, our stomach would start aching. Those were the times when we could hear music from 20 blocks away but would become deaf to a yelling mom in the next room. Those were the times when “getting high” meant “ on a swing”, when “drinking” meant “apple juice”, when “dad” was the only “hero”, when “love” was “mom’s hug”, when “dad’s shoulder” was the “highest place on earth”, when your “worst enemy” was “your sibling”, when the only thing that could “hurt” were “skinned knees”, when the only things “broken” were your “toys”, when “goodbyes” only meant “till tomorrow”.
I found something interesting to put up here: Life means: A winter evening, four friends, mild rain, four cups of tea. Life means: Hundred bucks of petrol, two rusty old bikes, and one open road, Life means: Maggi noodles, a hostel room, 3:25 am. Life means: 1 preparatory leave, 1 night, 1 book and 8 duffers. Life means: 3 old friends, 3 separate cities, 3 coffee mugs and 1 internet messenger. Life means: 1 girl, 1 number, 4 friends and a fight.
I opened the first box and the first thing I saw, filled my heart with memories of my past. It was a slam book from my school (7th school out of 9 schools). It was signed by all my “good friends”, “bad friends”, “okay friends”, “hated friends” and “teachers” (that’s how I had categorized them). C’mon, we were kids and had no clue of maturity. Speaking of no maturity, those were the days when, without any rhyme or reason, a girl and a boy would be linked up for reasons like “They both blush when around each other”, “They both come in the same school bus”, “They both study together”, etc. And then, next thing you know, the girl would tie a Rakhi to the guy. That’s the reason half the school would remain empty on Raksha bandhan.
That was the time when everyone had a secret crush and would admire secretly. But when caught admiring, would pretend like it’s a huge misconception. They would then write his name in books (at least girls do that) and then play those games where you check your compatibility level (I think it’s called FLAMES). First crushes are always memorable. Even I had a “First crush” and then second, third, fourth, and don’t remember how many.
One of the most heartwarming belongings that I found in “The box of recollections” was my school diary. It had the school prayer printed on the first page, pledge on the second and some torn pages (I think those were the messages from my school teacher for my parents). It also had a daily “Time-Table” printed on the last page, out of which Games period, SUPW period and Lab sessions were highlighted and decorated. I remember how our preferences of days would depend on our time table. I always preferred Saturdays because we had 2 games period. We were supposed to wear PT shoes on days we had our games period. I would spend hours to neatly polish my shoes white, which would take just few hours on the play ground to get sunken under layers of dust (before even the assembly could begin) and no one would believe me when I stood in the “Untidy Uniform” line.
We had 2 such lines “Late comers” and “Wrong Uniform”, which included long nails, untidy uniform, wrong socks, wrong shoes, wrong belt, wrong ribbons, long hair not plated, short hair not clipped, etc. leaving no scope for me to escape. That’s the reason; first period was attended by just a handful while the rest of the students would be kneeling down in the sun. I started enjoying these sessions, when I was amongst the cabinet members and would punish students (even though none of the younger students ever listened to me). They would give me chocolates and I would let them go (of course, without getting it to Srikanth’s knowledge)
Talking about coming late to class, I also used to enjoy decorating the “Bulletin Board” and writing “Thought for the day”. That ways, I could waste another 15 minutes of class. By the ways, teachers always hated such students, who would take up such voluntary work. They always thought students did that to avoid attending their class. (I wonder what made them think that?)
I also found “My personal Diary” in the box. Which was so personal, that it had a “Danger” sign drawn on the cover. I would carry it with me everywhere till the time I realized how “kiddish” was the stuff written in it. It had all the names of people I knew, Things I liked about them, People I hated, along with reasons to hate them. One of the reasons, I hated a person was “Simply”. It also had some of my best moments and some of the worst moments. Apparently, my best moment was when I secured full marks in Social Studies and I hate watching, small puppies roaming on road without their mummies.
Then, during the end of every year, sale of autograph diaries would increase. People would start filling up each other’s diaries, like they are never gonna meet each other again. In some cases it would be true but in some it was just out of excitement of filling an autograph diary and feeling important. Everybody would fill up everybody’s’ diary (even if we had not spoken to each other) and then girls would group up and read what their secret crush had written in “About me”, “Hobbies”, “Best Friends”, “Lines about you”, “Why I like you”, “Why I dislike you”, etc. People would buy colorful pens to fill up diaries. Those were the best times.
Those were the times when we could hang out with friends for hours without realizing the time, but when it came to sitting with guests at home, our stomach would start aching. Those were the times when we could hear music from 20 blocks away but would become deaf to a yelling mom in the next room. Those were the times when “getting high” meant “ on a swing”, when “drinking” meant “apple juice”, when “dad” was the only “hero”, when “love” was “mom’s hug”, when “dad’s shoulder” was the “highest place on earth”, when your “worst enemy” was “your sibling”, when the only thing that could “hurt” were “skinned knees”, when the only things “broken” were your “toys”, when “goodbyes” only meant “till tomorrow”.
I found something interesting to put up here: Life means: A winter evening, four friends, mild rain, four cups of tea. Life means: Hundred bucks of petrol, two rusty old bikes, and one open road, Life means: Maggi noodles, a hostel room, 3:25 am. Life means: 1 preparatory leave, 1 night, 1 book and 8 duffers. Life means: 3 old friends, 3 separate cities, 3 coffee mugs and 1 internet messenger. Life means: 1 girl, 1 number, 4 friends and a fight.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Winters in Summers
When the rest of the country is sulking with the killing heat, I am in the part of the country where survival of a South Indian would be difficult without heaters and sweaters. Even though I belong to Jammu, I would rather call myself a South Indian since I have spent all my life in this part of the country (Courtesy my Dads’ Profession and now my Job).
If you are a South Indian and reading this, chances are you will not understand because you have never seen a winter.
If you are a North Indian, you probably know what winter is all about but don’t know how it impacts a South Indian…so read on. The Western & Eastern Indians can just sit and watch.
As I was saying, having stayed most of my life in Hyderabad, Pune and Mumbai, winter isn’t easy.
Back in Mumbai nobody would speak of the weather. People calling you wouldn’t ask: “So, how is the weather?” for they would know the answer. The only reason why winter wear sells in Mumbai is because of the very low A/C temperature in Movie halls, Offices and Shopping Malls. Office is the only place where I get to show off my lovely Blazers. It is not to say that Mumbai doesn’t have four seasons – It has hot season, more hot season, most hot season and then the most hot and humid season.
Here in Wellington (Yes there is a place called Wellington in India too, near Ooty), we have the summer (which is as cold as winters in Pune), winter, autumn and spring. Spring is the season from May onwards till August when the working class springs from one company to the other after a not-so-good appraisal.
Anyway, a week back when I decided to come home to Wellington, I could have never imagined in the wildest of my dreams that I would need to pack my warm clothes in April. Soon when I landed here, I realized that it was winter.
I can cope with winters, especially when there are heaters in every corner of your house and doors are shut so tight that no clod wave can dare touch you. But the main issue is taking bath. How could one take bath when the outside temperature was as low as 11 degree Celsius? Back in Mumbai, I used to take bath twice (morning & evening) but here, it is becoming a challenge.
I even tried putting on the heater 24X7 but hot water baths aren’t good either because after wiping ourselves dry, we would freeze in the cold.
After two failed attempts, I stopped taking bath. I don’t stink yet because it has only been a week. If it gets colder and I can’t think of any alternatives to bathing…I plan to stock up Rexona’s Winter Cool before its price goes up. In case you didn’t know, demand for deodorants goes up in winter (and one thought sweating was less in winters!).
Apart from the freezing cold, this place is heaven. Its like a fairy land (only the fairies are missing) with greenery spread like a carpet feasting your eyes, clouds so low that they sweep into your house, land so colorful as if its been gardened for years. I am attaching a picture below as a support evidence.
If you are a South Indian and reading this, chances are you will not understand because you have never seen a winter.
If you are a North Indian, you probably know what winter is all about but don’t know how it impacts a South Indian…so read on. The Western & Eastern Indians can just sit and watch.
As I was saying, having stayed most of my life in Hyderabad, Pune and Mumbai, winter isn’t easy.
Back in Mumbai nobody would speak of the weather. People calling you wouldn’t ask: “So, how is the weather?” for they would know the answer. The only reason why winter wear sells in Mumbai is because of the very low A/C temperature in Movie halls, Offices and Shopping Malls. Office is the only place where I get to show off my lovely Blazers. It is not to say that Mumbai doesn’t have four seasons – It has hot season, more hot season, most hot season and then the most hot and humid season.
Here in Wellington (Yes there is a place called Wellington in India too, near Ooty), we have the summer (which is as cold as winters in Pune), winter, autumn and spring. Spring is the season from May onwards till August when the working class springs from one company to the other after a not-so-good appraisal.
Anyway, a week back when I decided to come home to Wellington, I could have never imagined in the wildest of my dreams that I would need to pack my warm clothes in April. Soon when I landed here, I realized that it was winter.
I can cope with winters, especially when there are heaters in every corner of your house and doors are shut so tight that no clod wave can dare touch you. But the main issue is taking bath. How could one take bath when the outside temperature was as low as 11 degree Celsius? Back in Mumbai, I used to take bath twice (morning & evening) but here, it is becoming a challenge.
I even tried putting on the heater 24X7 but hot water baths aren’t good either because after wiping ourselves dry, we would freeze in the cold.
After two failed attempts, I stopped taking bath. I don’t stink yet because it has only been a week. If it gets colder and I can’t think of any alternatives to bathing…I plan to stock up Rexona’s Winter Cool before its price goes up. In case you didn’t know, demand for deodorants goes up in winter (and one thought sweating was less in winters!).
Apart from the freezing cold, this place is heaven. Its like a fairy land (only the fairies are missing) with greenery spread like a carpet feasting your eyes, clouds so low that they sweep into your house, land so colorful as if its been gardened for years. I am attaching a picture below as a support evidence.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
When mind wonders
My boss: “Deepali, please complete the PPT before leaving for the day”
My mind: “Sure sir.
PPT is no big deal, I have made a million of them during my MBA days.
Ah! MBA days. Those late night movies and sleeping throughout the lectures.
No wonder, the teachers didn’t like me much.
School was better. I was a “Teachers’ pet”. They all loved me.
I loved going to school. I had 100% attendance in school. (Or was it because I preferred it to staying at home and listening to a yelling mom)
C’mon, at that age, everybody tends to think that their parents scold them coz they are just too boring. Somehow we always think that our parents were never kids and didn’t have a life.
Its only when we go through their photo album and old accessories (By that I mean bikes, huge driving glasses, funky bell bottoms, polka dots T-shirts, embroidery sweaters, etc.) and when we meet their old pals, who often tell us how fun our parents were, that we realize, all the scolding is out of sheer jealousy since they aren’t kids anymore.
By the time we realize, that our parents actually had good intentions behind their behavior and didn’t want us to make the same mistakes they have, we have grown up and are already away from them.
Now we miss them so much. We miss the, once upon a time, hated food. We miss being pampered and fed by mom. We miss being forced to drink milk early morning. We miss being called up a million times, while we were away for only an hour, to ask “when are you coming home?” We miss those nagging “Please clean up you room” (Why is it necessary to clean your room? Why should you keep your clothes in your cupboard, when you know you are gonna wear it the next day? So wouldn’t it be better to keep it lying on the floor. )
We miss those waiting-for-parents-to-sleep-so-we-can-talk-over-the-phone days.
I wonder how could I possibly talk to Sanam over the phone for hours together. When now, I don’t remember making a telephonic conversation with anybody for more than 30 minutes… okay 1 hour…. C’mon not more than 2 hours.
But there are surely times when I prefer not to carry my phone with me, or I rather switch it off. Though I sometimes wonder what life would be without a phone. How the hell will I keep in touch with my friends?
Ohhh… that’s why they had letters…
That’s why they made us write and practice writing letters in school. But why on earth would you follow a format while writing a letter to your friends. Who writes:
To
Abhishek Gupta
Andheri
From
Deepali Jamwal
Colaba
Date: March 31, 2009
Dear Friend,
……..
Yours truly
Deepali
There were many subjects in school which were pointless. Like …… *My Boss Interrupts* “Aren’t you going for lunch?”
My mind: “Oops!!! Its already half day. I must come back and finish my work if I want to leave on time. If I don’t leave on time, I wont be able to make it on time for my dance class…..”
And it goes on….
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