Here comes the Fall...

I love the fall. Maybe that's why I was blessed with an Autumn wedding. I missed this season in my entire 11 years of stay in Delhi. There, you never get to enjoy either spring or fall... only summers and winters. Hence, this year has been all the more special. I am home and the mark of Autumn has started with our 1st wedding anniversary.
To me, 'fall' signifies the heady whiff of 'xewali phool' or the night-jasmine flowers (those tiny white flowers with a saffron centre and stem) which bloom by night and fall down by morning. The tantalising peek-a-boo chill of the early morning mist, when you feel comfortably numb with a blanket thrown over to catch that extra half-an-hour's sleep. The sipping of lemon-tea sitting in the balcony amidst the little greenery that's still left on the trees and starting the countdown to those cold and foggy winter mornings' hot ginger milk tea.
Fall always make the markets turn a little more interesting than ever, with new designs of clothes and shoes and a variety of things to buy as festive gifts for friends and relatives. Just the right time and excuse for some retail therapy, more so, as it is customary. Even the local markets turn colourful, with the endless variety of fruits and vegetables that the season has to offer, resulting in heavier fares from everyone's kitchens.
Fall marks the start of a colourful festive season lined up from Durga Puja, Laksmi Puja, Kati Bihu, Diwali, Eid and Christmas, that eventually leads to a bright new year. Durga puja is always a community affair, where the whole neighbourhood chips in and not only take pride but clamour to help in. Dusshera always sees the whole neighbourhood gather in for some community function after the idols are sent for immersion and the nonchalant calorie-indulgence in gobbling up piping hot jalebis. The sprucing up of the house for Laksmi Puja and pre-diwali clean-up always means cleaning and polishing locked away silver and brass utensils and those small twinkling electric lights to do up the building on Diwali night and light up numerous diyas (earthen lamps) and burn crackers and fireworks with the family and neighbours. More indulgence with calorie-induced diwali-sweets (made in pure desi-ghee) and dry-fruits and exchanging of gifts. Kati Bihu involves the woman of the house to worship Tulsi ji (holy basil) every evening by lighting a diya (earthen lamp) for the entire month. Eid calls for lunch/dinner invitations from our Muslim family friends/neighbours, which means indulging in laughter, happiness and huge helpings of pulao, meat and sweet vermicelli.
Then slowly the winter sets in. Not a season that I look forward to, but then, winters in Assam are not so bad either. With the warm sunny afternoons to gorge on plenty of citrus fruits after lunch, or sharing cups of hot peppery soup with the family while watching our favourite soaps on TV in the evenings before dinner, I look forward for a happy winter this time at home, also hoping that my husband gets atleast a couple of days off this time to be with us just in time for his birthday in December.

A year ago TODAY

A year ago today, hubby and I got hitched.

Everyone who knew us individually, had given up all hopes that either of us would take the plunge. Though it never bothered me to think that way, I seriously began to doubt that any man was ever made for me. Being fed on a healthy dosage of romantic songs, movies and novels, I was always over-critical, suspicious and cynical about any guy who would approach me and I would crib endlessly and dig out faults with those endlessly lost potential partners. And the only ones I liked were either way too younger or already taken. Not that I never had relationships before, but they ended in strange ways. Either the guys were total jerks or something or the other never worked to last long enough. None of them could keep me engrossed for long, anyway. My friends told me that my expectations of my 'dream-guy' were way too unrealistic... he should be intelligent, well-read, have a great sense of humour, earn decent, not too ugly-looking, dress smartly, wear good shoes, have a head-full of hair, listen to good music (not Enrique-type of songs)... and maybe there were 20 other items in the list which I went on adding over the years. And every guy I used to meet used to be measured against that mental list. But I was soon made to realise by my folks and friends that I was dismissing too many guys without even giving them a fair chance! They told me to ditch the unrealistic expectations, as no one man could fit the bill (especially since Brad Pitt was already taken and George Clooney had been a confirmed bachelor so far). I was left with no choice but to start meeting guys they set me up with and pick only one thing or two on my mental list that I absolutely could not compromise on (like, him being 'straight' or that he spoke correct English, for instance). But I was not ready to settle for anything less. I longed for a guy who would also be ready to tolerate my (infamous) temper and loud mouth to go with, pamper the child in me and dote on the woman in me. And then one fine day, out of the blue, came this guy...

We met, and in that moment I thought there wouldn't be anything special brewing this time too. So many times in life we meet people, talk to them, like them instantly and then just forget all about them and we move on with our lives. But this was nothing like it. He was everything I always wanted in my guy... a nice human being, charming, fun, tall, good-looking, well-spoken and him being in the armed forces was like the cherry on the cake. We eventually hit it off pretty well. We never rushed in. We never pushed each other. I slowly began to feel this growing warmth between us and our relation just developed as forests grow... without any conscious nurture. His maturity stirred me, whereas my impatience amused him. He wooed me with his charms and slowly I felt okay to be vulnerable, as our inhibitions lowered. Before we knew it, our relationship was made official with our engagement. And ever since, we never looked back... in regret.


We just clicked and kept on clicking... at our computer mouses and the keyboards, and also at our mobile-phones' keypad buttons. And with each passing day and month, our brainwaves harmonised on their own. What else could we depend on, except those so called 'wavelengths'. Our relation just grew on those written words that flashed on our computer screens in the form of 'love-mails' and those endless hours of talking on our phones through countless sleepless nights. The long distance between us made things a little improbable for us. You can't share every feeling through emails or on the phone. But love has an uncanny tendency of making things easy for the takers. So, we made up for the lost moments when he used to visit me once in a couple of months. I was totally transformed. I stopped being the flirt I'd always been and for once, all my friends and colleagues came to believe that this time I was seriously in a relationship.

In six months time, before I knew it, we were tied in holy matrimony. I had mixed feelings in the beginning, and was as confused as he might have been. I would sometimes get upset about having to leave my job and my single, carefree life with no responsibilities whatsoever, having to concentrate less on myself now and focus more on 'us' and the society we lived in, sharing the bed with him whereas earlier I would have the entire bed to myself, expecting him to remember birthdays, death anniversaries, wedding anniversaries of friends, family and even someone in the extended family and getting offended when he did not. The wet-towel-on-the-bed habit, walking with wet slippers all around the house, leaving footmarks on the bathroom floor and saving all the dirty undear and socks to be washed on Sundays... all these things were quite a shock and annoying in the early days of our marriage, but slowly, these irritants grew into familiarity which seemed to offer great comfort and security in both our lives. I am not even getting into my habits which might have got on his nerves. I'm happy not knowing of them.

Thus, through good times and bad, being both right and wrong, sharing love and quarrels, we have seen a whole year fly by, since the date we tied the knot. And after a year of marriage, I've come to being familiar seeing my husband wake up next to me when we are together or me staying happy and involved in something when he is away on 'field-duty', as easily as seeing my face in the mirror. And I have learnt that once in a while we do need to take certain things and people for granted to make our 'circle of comfort' complete. And though my beloved has some quirks which really irks me to the core, yet gives me a comfort and security, which further gives me confidence that our world will still go round! I'm hoping it only gets better from now.

The plague of the AUNTYji-s and their agonising questions

India is perhaps the only place in the world where we are taught from our childhood to address complete strangers, neighbours, acquaintances or anyone who is not even remotely related to us, as UNCLEs and AUNTYs. It is considered 'rude' to address someone (elder) by their first or even last names. And I have been completely comfortable with this culture until a few years back when I had to undergo the 'U.K. voice and accent training' and the 'UK Culture training' for my job. Slowly I learnt of some cultural similarities in American and other European society too, with a striking difference with us Indians and our culture.
For instance, there is no good thing about being 'single' in India... especially if you're a girl and over 23 years of age. The general calculation is that you graduate by the age of 21. After that, you'd be lucky to have been been spared for 2 more years after you have graduated, just in case you want to pursue a professional course, but soon thereafter, all those agonising questions and 'looks' will crowd your way, especially from those snooping neighbourhood Aunty-jis.


AGONISING QUESTION # 1: SO, WHEN ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED?
The good thing about being a single girl in India is that everyone wants to find you a groom---your parents, your relatives, your neighbours, the taxi-driver, the laundry-woman and sometimes, even your colleagues, and definitely those Aunty-jis. Everybody seems to know somebody, or their son, who would be perfect for you. You'd have been so grateful to have been saved from the manhunting routine of Ally McBeal or Bridget Jones... if only you'd also agree that that particular 'someone (or their son)' is perfect for you. I mean, where would you get the opportunity to even find that out? They would want you to get married immediately without questioning their judgement. No dating, no flirting, no slowly maturing the relationship. And they will (in most probability) steer you away from the sexy ones and settle on the most excruiatingly boring IT-type-settledin-the-U.S. of A.
No-no! Thank you so much, but I think I'll take my own sweet time to find out that man-of-my-dreams for myself.
I had come a long way in my single days from this question with my cheeky comeback:
"Auntyji, didn't my ma tell you that I'm a lesbian and till the time homosexual marriages are legalised in India, I would devote my years to serving the poor until I can legally unite with my one and only true love?"
Believe me, those Auntyjis will be too shocked to react at first, but then derive that you must be going through a lot of stress searching for a groom as there must be something wrong with your horoscope, and then might even spread the word about it around. But never will they dare bother you with the bugging question ever again.

AGONISING QUESTION # 2: HOW MUCH DO YOU EARN?
If you are one of those lucky spinsters who has a job you love and the one that even pays you handsomely, you sure have got yourself a lot of attention back home amongst your relatives and the neighbourhood Auntyjis. With the attention shifting more towards higher education and salaried women these days, and hoping that one fine day their Tina-s and Munni-s would earn as much as you do, or even more, it isn't uncommon to be asked (whether you're married or not) about how much you earn. While in other countries this is a very personal and objectionable question, our fellow countrymen (and women) don't really see the harm in sharing the news of their or others finances. Had I wanted to be a nice and harmless person, I'd have been modest and replied that I was just earning enough to support my lifestyle in those single days of mine in Delhi... enough to stay comfortably in a good locality, enough to buy books to open up a mini library, enough to take off to any place I fancy, on my own and afford those trips myself, enough to buy my own drinks whenever I wanted to party with the girls, without depending on any loser of a guy, enough to buy good clothes, shoes and accessories and watch countless movies every weekend. But ofcourse, since that's none of their godforsaken business, I used to say:
"Psst, it's a secret but I'm sharing this with you... I work for the FBI as a secret agent, my 'real' salary gets transfered into a Swiss bank account, which I haven't touched yet. So I really don't know what's my salary. Must be a lot, since I'm on first-name terms with my personal banker who also happens to be the Swiss Bank Manager. Gee!"
Again 'that' look on their faces, but I love my peace more, to even care.

AGONISING QUESTION # 3: OH, YOU'RE A HOUSEWIFE?
Taking off from the continuing trend of being an independent salaried woman, who lived life on her own terms, travelled extensively on her own and partied hard, being a 'home-maker' after marriage and wanting to settle down to a less hectic life, might bring with it its own connotations. Perhaps you are still smart enough to get yourself a high paying job, but perhaps your husband and you both agree that you have toiled enough for 11 long years before you got married, and maybe now you can do with a little relaxation because what the husband earns is more than comfortable for both of you to survive without you working. But in India, it's amazing how people will think of it as anything except that it is a personal choice.
So, when I'm confronted with this annoying and agonising question, there's no better way than proclaiming:
"No, I'm the Domestic Goddess. And this is my real place... in the house, at my husband's feet. Don't you agree?" Then bat your eye-lashing and flash your most charming smile.

(I mean, c'mon! It's not like I have a contaminable disease, for crissake!)
Here, chances are that you might be even appreciated for your newfound realisation of the essence of being a woman. But you'd definitely not be plagued with any more of that question.

AGONISING QUESTION # 4: IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT (IN YOUR MARRIAGE)?
All thanks to the age-old Bollywood film moralities and a certain Kapoor's Saas-Bahu saga on the different tv channels, a married woman in her maternal home, is seen as not fulfilling her marital duties. Nobody considers that fact that things are different when you are married to an army officer. There are times when you are posted out of a station and the husband goes out to a 'field-location' (where its not safe to keep his family) as his new posting. You have not got a quarter in your preferred location yet, and while waiting for the same, you prefer to be with your parents and siblings and childhood friends in your hometown, rather than being all by yourself in a strange city in a rented accomodation. But here again, if you have visited your parents and stayed on for a while, it is inevitable for those Auntyjis to ask this agonising line. A woman's place is by her man's side, after all. The zooming divorce rates in India these days, where it can now be confidently yet sadly called a trend, may also be the cause of your neighbour's suspicion.
On such situations, I can very wickedly excuse myself with a long sad face and also a few (did I see tears in her eyes) looks, letting my mother face the music, but I choose to retort:
"No Auntyji, I just wanted a break from all those soul-stirring, earth-shattering sex with my husband. See how much weight I've lost from all that regular exercise. Phew! Now I want him to spend some time with his mistress in the Assam-Arunachal border too. *wink!*"
Chances are that the Auntyjis from the neighbourhood will never visit your house again and even pretend to not see your mom when they cross ways. But atleast you'll have your last laugh with your mom (if you have a mom as sporty as mine)!

AGONISING QUESTION # 5: ANY GOOD NEWS?
If you're one of those 'fortunate ones' who's finally succeeded to nail a man and got hitched, the next question is, invariably, this one. How can you be nearing your 30s or even past it and not have babies yet? Our society, incidently, revolves as it is, around marital and maternal bliss... the only essence of being born a woman. Those do-gooding angels might even offer you the number of a fertility specialist, accompanied by a miracle story of a certain Mr. & Mrs. Sharma. These kind of questions are enough to put new bride off any social occassions. Worse still are the congratulations on a (is that a) baby bump, that's in reality the after-effect of skipping your regular gym or eating too many samosas. You can try and laugh it off, but if this question still persist, try my comeback:
"Yes lots! Which one would you like to hear first? I'm going off to Goa with my girlfriends this Christmas and might even do Bangkok for some shopping from thereon. Check out these fabulous snaps of hubby and me from our last vacation. The prints have just come in and you're luckily on time. And oh, I'm totally in love with my pedicurist for choosing this lovely new shade for me. Isn't it sexy?" See... "
Chances are that the question will fade away on its own when you seem so content and happy with your current life and situations, even without you doing or saying anything nasty to the Auntyjis. It may raise a few confused eyebrows but believe me, it should definitely prevent further noises.

The SUNSCREEN Song

Everybody's Free
(to wear sunscreen)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97... wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice... now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are NOT as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard;
live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

I can never fail to get inspired by this song... time and again...

Little things which make you HAPPY

It seems slightly strange to talk about an individual's minimum requirements for being happy, as everyone has different requirements for happiness. Have you ever stopped doing something you really enjoy doing, just because you got too busy and forgot all about it? I think we have all done that once in a while. Remember, what it felt like to do this activity again? If it was a great thrill of the experience itself, coupled with a thought of 'oh yeah, this feels great' then you're on the right track.
A couple of examples from my own life this past weekend, might be helpful for you to connect with what I'm talking about...

Last friday (the 25th of Jan'08), our office had organised a painting competition for the employees on the event of the next day's Republic Day celebration. I had not planned to participate, but at the 11th hour I felt like taking in the plunge and found myself leaving my daily share of work, loitering around from floor to floor in search of the organizers, paper, paints, brushes, et al. Finally I managed all of them on the basis of the begging-borrowing-stealing that I could resort to. And then when I mixed the colours on the pallette and the first stroke of the sable-hair-brush hit the ivory cartridge sheet, mixed with water and the bright colours, all mixed and blended, I wondered why on earth hadn't I done this in ages. The smell of the paints and the view of the mixed colours on the paper, filled my heart and soul with a renewed pleasure I had forgotten behind. The painting turned out to be a beauty in my eye... and hopefully for the others, too. I'd only know it later in the week.

Again on saturday (the 26th of Jan), I gave a miss to my usual movie-watching routine. My almost zero-bank balance and the freezing cold waves doing their rounds in Delhi, were the major contributors for this. But being the outdoor person I am, I couldn't hold myself back in the confines of my room any longer than 6pm. So I went out for an evening walk in the neighbourhood. While coming back, I crossed several vegetable-vendors selling fresh, colourful vegetables. And I had to give in to the temptation of buying those beauties. Though I felt like bringing all of them home, I searched for and could fish out only 80 bucks from all that I had in my pocket and spent it all buying those yummy looking broccolis, celeries, button mushrooms, bitter-gourds, eggplants, spring-onions, beans, tomatoes, carrots and red-cabbages. They were just too irresistible to be spared from bringing back home to the kitchen.

Yesterday was a broody day for me. But thanks to all the vegetables bought in from the previous evening. I spent the whole day cooking. I baked pasta in white-sauce with some of the vegetables, on the other hand prepared a 3-course naga-meal with the other set of vegetables, greens and dried meat. And though I felt quite relaxed (mentally) and tired (physically) by the end of all the cooking, I realised that I wasn't even hungry... either for lunch or for dinner. So, I watched some television, talked on the phone, prepared myself a cocktail-blood on the rooftop-with redwine and apple juice, and drank myself to sleep.

A totally uneventful and boring weekend, you might feel, but it made me re-discover a few things I had totally forgotten doing. A slow weekend which brought some happiness to me. And the cooking came in handy for today's lunch and dinner at work.

LIFE'S LESSONS

Lessons I learnt in life...

01. Gossip, men, coffee and chocolates... some things are better dark and rich.

02. If you are a lady who knows to cook and drive, HUSH! Just keep it to yourself. After all, why do all the hard work if you can get away faking ignorance?!

03. Men come and men go, but friends are forever and nearly always outlast (superficial) lovers.

04. A not-so-goodlooking guy who is chivalrous, polished, good to you and genuinely cares about you is much more worthy than a good-looking guy who is insensitive to your feelings.

05. Not having a man in your life is not reason enough to go into a full-on crisis mode. Infact, to be single is better than to be stuck in a bad relationship.

06. Share everything with your mate... except the details of ex-s and the location of your porn stash...(wink!)

07. Men do make passes at girls who wear glasses or braces. Infact, some men even make passes at anything that moves, crawls and wears a skirt.

08. Dress up real nice on a dull and depressing day. Who knows, you might run into a cute guy who might ask you out or better yet, meet a woman you could make so jealous.

09. Exercise is a great excuse to wear clingy clothes, but it is something you do to keep fit, not to get thin.

10. There is no fight that can't be won when wearing sexy lingerie or only that.

11. A designer bikini can cost more than a whole outfit.

12. It IS possible to have too many shoes, bags or clothes.

13. A good haircut is well worth the investment. After all, you have to wear it everyday.

14. It is much better to spend your money on a vacation than on luxury items. The vacation will provide memories and lessons that will last a lifetime. The latter, only momentary pleasure and maybe a little chance to show off.

15. The world is a much better place after a glass of wine.

16. Nobody really cares that you have that ugly acne on your left cheek or nose or wherever. The truth be told, you are probably the only one aware of and annoyed with its existence.

17. Eat all the carbs-and-calories you want, while you still can. Soon, that spoonful of chocolate mousse or mayonnaise will travel straight to your mid-riff area.

18. After you reach a certain age, no matter how much you diet and however hard you exercise, you will never be twig-thin again like you were as a teenager. And clothes which looked good on you a decade ago, won't look that way ever again... even if the fashion is back.

19. No matter how many creams you rub into your problem zones, you can't stop the inexorable march of cellulite onto your thighs, arms and butts. Gravity will take its toll on you and everything that can sag, will sag. So, don't bother fighting it.

20. People who invest in LICs, Mutual Funds and Retirement Policies while still in their 20s, are NOT losers.

21. It is better to buy a property than to rent... even if it means living in an area that you don't consider entirely worthy of you.

22. Its difficult to soar high like eagles if you work with turkeys.

23. You will never be able (or willing) to work this hard again. So make the most while still at it. But don't lose sight of the fact that there is life outside your workplace.

24. You can only really make friends when you are young. After that, you're only stuck with chance acquaintances and work contacts whom you also socialize with.

25. There is a reason why you lost touch with so many 'friends' you made in school, high-school and college. You simply had nothing much in common, except for the fact that you were once together, somewhere, somehow. So, there's no need to feel guilty when charged with 'dropping' them.

26. If you want something, don't be afraid to ask.

27. Do not be afraid to speak out your mind... ever.

28. If you dare to do the impossible, it actually becomes possible, 'cause the 'impossibler' does not exist.

29. You can't change the world. But don't let it change you either.

30. Whatever you give to others, comes back to you... in this very life.

31. Nothing is as important as you think and everthing in life (good or bad) shall pass. Yes, it truly will!

Goodbye 2007, Welcome 2008

2007 had been a very exciting and eventful year for me. Lots of travelling, lots of movies, good friends, met interesting people, attended quite a few weddings, became an aunt. Also I discovered 'orkut' and got a little addicted to it, till the time I got caught red-handed while being online from work (oops! its a zero-tolerance, but they decided to tolerate me on for one last time). But then, what the heck? I made a couple of very good friends and it was worth the risk.
Well, now its time to analyse the resolutions which I had made for the past year.
Resolutions 007 status:
#1: Smoking-Did not smoke at all till the 15th August 2007, but then I smoked on and off once in a while.
#2: Organic life-Ate healthy, exercised, meditated and cut down on alchohol to a great extent. Only stuck to beer and red-wine when I had to drink. Also curbed down on meat, being strictly vegan on tuesdays & saturdays (even if that meant a lot of hassles and being the odd one out at social gatherings).
#3: Photography-Even though my uncle gifted me with his old Canon SLR, I couldn't bring myself to do a lot with it yet.
#4: Travel- Oh yes... and a lot. Visited my hometown 4 times in the year (thats the most I've done in all these ten years I have been here in Delhi). Also visited Mumbai, Rishikesh, Daman-Diu and Pushkar.
#5: Gadgets-Got a mixer-juicer-grinder and an oven, but not the i-pod, digicam or the much-required lappy.
#6: Painting-Did not paint at all. Blame it on the mood or the hectic outdoor life or simple laziness.
#7: Pray-Yes, that I did. Chanted 'the gayatri mantra' everyday and 'the hanuman chalisa' on tuesdays. And I feel that has brought in a lot of calm in me. I also realise now that prayer is not about asking God for things to happen, but to thank Him for all that I have and that I'm grateful for the good things that has happened to me.

Now, at the start of the New Year 2008, I promise myself 8 new things-
#1: To earn more money and while also investing for the future, to be able to indulge more.
#2: To upgrade my room and my mobile phone.
#3: To work harder and more sincerely 'coz I realise I've been a lazy bum in the whole last year.
#4: To laugh more, humour more and spread more happiness.
#5: To break more rules by doing crazier stuff than my usual.
#6: To try and travel to the remaining parts of the country I haven't covered yet.
#7: To be more forgiving and be a better human being.
#8: To get married (after I'm done with my travelling, ofcourse!)

In the name of THE HUSBAND, THE CHILD...

WOMANHOOD... what is the first image which comes to your mind when you hear this word? For me its symbolizes a very strong power of a woman, who would do anything for the love and well being of her husband, her children.... A person so vulnerable to look at, yet so strong from within, so full of love and warmth.... She's a power almost at par with divinity I think...
The hindu religion followers however have always been very insecure of the power bestowed in women by mother nature, even in a male-dominated country like ours. The religious leaders from times immemorial have always prohibited women from chanting mantras (powerful religious slokas from the holy books), performing yajnas (also known as Yagya) and homas (also called havana) and have bestowed a great number of vrats (religious fasts) most or all of them which are observed for the good health and long life of their family, not for themselves. To mention a couple-Sankat Chauth and Aahoyee Ashtami, are vrats observed by mothers and grandmothers, devoted to the good health and welfare of their children and grandchildren. Karva Chauth vrats observed by wives, is devoted to husbands (it was yesterday-the 29th of October, this year). But I really don't understand why all these fasts are incumbent only on women! Is this their ‘gift’ from pseudo-religious-pandits of our society for being a woman? Is there any such vrat which is dedicated for wives or mothers, observed by the husbands or children? It is understandable that vrats for children might be non-reciprocal as they are too young to observe fasts or maybe too weak to cope up with their daily routine while on fast, but what happens after the children grow up? Do they observe atleast 1 day of fast for their mothers in their entire lifetime? No sir! There is no such ritual. Or what explanation do we have for the Karva Chauth vrat? Isn't it surely reciprocal as husbands can well observe this vrat for the health and happiness of their wives? If the working husband is in service, trade, media, industry or agriculture, the domesticated housewife also has to manage the household... a 24X7 job that is more arduous than the husband’s. Today, most modern women earn their share to contribute into the household economy or for their own financial independence and rural women infact, work even harder with their men in agricultural fields. But at the end of the day, we always see the women folk coming back to their kitchens and doing their only share of household chores. Whether she is a part-time domestic help, a doctor, a teacher, an actor or a labour, the woman of the house has to take up the laddle in the kitchen, help her children with homework and maintain a beautiful love-filled 'home'. Isn't it simply amazing the way she manages it all and keep fasts as well?
After being around a few married female colleagues at work who observes the Karva Chauth vrat for the health and longeivity of their husbands, year after year, without even a single drop of water or a morsel of food right from dawn, throughout the day till the moon comes out in the night sky, yet managing to meet up with their 'call targets' of about 200 calls, like everyday(because the UK clients are oblivious to a ritual like this celebrated only by us Indians and hence no downtime) I believe this ritual is almost inhumane, especially for the women who work in a BPO. When I asked a few of them yesterday, like I enquire around every year, most of the women were shocked and scandalised at my question. When I asked them with utter curiosity if their husbands have also kept the fast for their good-health and longeivity, they answered back with double shock and defense that on this day only the women fast for their men and not any otherwise. I mean, c'mmon, don't the husbands need their wives as much as wives need their husbands? Won't doing so not only strengthen the tie of love between them?? Would the husbands actually be able to enjoy their long, healthy lives with their sickly wives who would be long dead before them???

NY RESOLUTION STATUS

I must admit, I have broken one of my New Year resolutions and have not been able to keep up with many of them. I was going through some very blue moments of late and started smoking from the 15th of August (incidently, on the independence day I succumbed to the 'butt' again). I smoked the whole day that day till my throat was sore and burning and tears ran down my cheeks with the smoke, mixed with my inner grief. I thought it was okay to take a break for 1 day and smoke... but it led to me smoking the next day again. The 3rd day my friend at work warned me about me getting trapped into it again. I convinced her and myself that I'd smoke for the whole week and then stop. The week elongated to become 2 weeks, precisely 16 days. So I smoked as much as I could till the month-end and then finally quit for good on the 31st of August. But I am not happy about it myself. I don't know why I couldn't be strong enough to not have done as I did. Perhaps there was a lack of reason or maybe that itself was a reason. Just for my health did not seem reason enough for me to have not smoked.

Sometimes I wonder why my senses go for a walk. Why I stop thinking rationally. Why I feel so snappy. Why I just want to let go of everything or everyone who matters to me so much. Why I have no zeal left for the ever new and happening thing called LIFE. I feel I have stopped 'living' for sometime now. I am just breathing, so I am 'existing'. Perhaps its a hint I should take seriously about a short break again....soon. The sun and the sea beckons...

RESOLUTIONS 007

Hello everyone and hello 2007. I hope you all had a grand celebration to welcome the New Year. But unfortunately, I was bed-ridden with severe stomach infection and a sun-stroke. Not a very pleasant way to start the New Year, I'd say. But then life goes on. And inspite of all the viruses, bad weather, a poor appraisal at work and nothing so exciting to look forward to, I still hope its a good year ahead. Its been quite a few years now that I hadn't made any New Year resolutions because I used to forget and break all my promises after a couple of months. But this year I believe it'll be different and I hope to have more control over myself. I've kept these 7 resolutions. Wish you all a very happy and prosperous 2007.

#001: Will never kiss the butt again...I said goodbye to ciggies.
#002:Will try to make my life more organic... more fruits, veggies, herbal-teas, juices...will curb on booze and meat.
#003:Will try to get onto the other side of the lenses...after modelling, now I want to get behind the camera and capture all things of beauty through my lenses.
#004:Will travel more...but off the beaten tracks...I'll try to cover more exotic destinations within the country.
#005:Will indulge more...and get myself gadgets to ease my work...a microwave oven, an ipod, a digicam and a laptop are on the priority list in that order.
#006:Will paint my life RED...and BLUE and GREEN and YELLOW and ORANGE...I'll paint so much that I can put up an exhibition by Diwali.
#007:Will talk to God more often...does not mean I'll be worshipping all the time, but I'll be super regular with my daily prayers.

And U R TAGGED. Post in your NY resolutions and lets see if we can all keep them till the end of the year.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS?

Though Christmas is NOT one of the main festivals that I celebrate according to my religion, yet for being in a catholic school I was made to understand that Christmas represents gifts from Santa Claus who comes down our chimneys at midnight of Christmas eve with promises of rewards, and this used to ensure a good behavior from all us kids round the year. But today when I've grown up, I wonder how many other grown ups still believe there is really a Santa Claus? Well, Santa Claus is not merely a wishful thinking for me, but he exists… as certainly as love, generosity and devotion exist. Alas! How dreary it would be if there was no Santa Claus?! Without 'him' there would be no child-like faith, no poetry, no presents and no romance to even make tolerable this season of warmth, love and merriment.

Some of us grown-ups might ask, “Do we need that old fat man with the big white beard to celebrate Christmas?” And there are those who would say we do not need an icon whose most popular depiction arises out of the early color-coding principles of a soft drink manufacturer (for the red and white that we associate with Santa, were designed by the Coca Cola Company in an attempt to link Christmas with the drinking of their flagship product). There are those again who would argue that gift-giving has become an arena of conflict in which families struggling to maintain a decent economic foothold in a cut-throat world are put to the test by the manipulative strategies of advertising & marketing gimmicks. Perhaps it’s time for such grown-ups to re-look at Santa Claus and re-contextualize why we do really need him…
…because we need to give. Our genes may be selfish, our basic and more primal instincts may be aimed at ensuring the survival of our own self and our genetically linked family, but there’s much to be said for giving too. And we are not talking about gifts alone here... we’re talking about giving of our time and effort and of helping others. Let us try to redefine Santa Claus as the spirit of giving and we would see why we need him more than ever.

Our world is one of closed spaces and closed minds. It is one that allows the individual very little control over the way things are. This works in the area of personal relationships too. The more we give, the more connected we become, the better our emotional health and the emotional temperament of the relationship becomes. And it really holds true that whatever we give, comes around. But we should not equate this 'giving' with ‘the parcel with the red-ribbon’ and the little card with a quickie message… because if we agree that Santa is a human necessity, that he is only an embodiment of the spirit of putting others before one-self, that he is a convenient and time-honored icon to represent all that is generous and giving in human nature, WE HAVE TO BE SANTA ourselves.

Yes, Santa still lives. Commerce won’t let the fat man in the funny red suit with white fur trimmings and the three-pillow-paunch, who is a mere 1700 years old, die because he’s too valuable a property. And his this act of giving without asking for anything in return repeated again and again, year after year, spreads joy and happiness all over, making everyone jolly and happy too.

Merry Christmas to all and also to the man who says HO! HO!! HO!!!

A FEW PASSING THOUGHTS....

Sometimes I wonder... how to define a few terms...like 'love'...'happiness'...
how to define a 'color'..... Bottle Green.....Virgin White...
to define an ice-cube finding its way down your back
or how to define a 'heavy heart'....

Can we put everything within the constraints of 26 letters ?
What about the word 'ma'?
There are things in life that escape 'definition'.
Life itself, for instance...

How do we define bitter... tangy... sour...
How to define a mistake... wrong... right...
Ever wonder how it changes with every experience??
For that matter, how do we define 'experience'?

Is a 'kiss' the mere brush of lips?
How long should it last? And how long does it actually last??
Is a 'smile' the mere upturn of the corners of the lips?
Does a sunset actually end when the sun sets?
Does 'pregnancy' last only for 9 months?
How long should our birthdays be?

How much would you pay to adopt a child if you can’t have one of your own?
How much would you pay to be a child again?
How much would you pay to get back your native home which is still under dispute?
What about that '80s studio picture of dad, ma and you?
Do you have a clear conscience?
How much would you pay to have one?
...and how much would you sell ‘that’ conscience for?

Does a 3day 2night vacation last for only 3days and 2nights?
Does a 'kodak moment' last for only 1/500th of a second?
Is 'Love Story' only a 2-hour story book?

How much time is too much time?
Sometimes, a half-hour bubble-bath can seem like an entire evening...
a 3-hour happy dream like a whole year....
a warm hug like a lifetime...
The first morning cuppa tea...perfect bliss...

Does life's most precious moments come with bar-codes?
Or fluctuate on a daily basis??

It might be the red balloon for your child priced at Rs 10,
a wedding cake for your best friend priced at Rs 10,000,
Or a 2-carat solitaire ring priced at Rs 5,00,000...
but considering it's on your left ring-finger, how much would you sell it for ?

RANDOM FEELINGS...!!!

Sometimes its a strange relationship very difficult to have a name for or to describe it.. You may just talk to 'someone' with whom you have nothing in common, just sit along with that person and still feel so secure and fascinated by his/her presence... as if you have known that person forever... Thats the ultimate test of a relationship... to be in the mystery yet feel that you belong... to disagree but still hold hands... to not say anything but still know you are loved...

KINGFISHER STRONG....

The effect that 'strong beer' has on my thought-process, is truely amazing. It brings such strange thoughts and feelings that take over my sensibility that it really surprises me. Like yesterday night, when I was struggling hard to catch on some sleep, my tired eyes heavy with hours of television-watching and two bottles of strong beer were shut and ready, but my mind just wouldn't allow me to sleep. It was super-active and set working faster than usual along with my heart.. I could almost hear the ticking of their work-pace...

Out of the blue, I remembered some people and started missing them... people who used to be my very good friends at one point of time, but who I have lost touch with or chose out of my life because of some difference or the other... people who have wronged me... people who I mis-understood... people who have just been out of touch all these years... people who couldn't take in an honest feedback about themselves... people who had fallen in love with me but I didn't... people who I had been in love with, but could never tell them... people who had been there for the moment without any benefit or harm and just vanished out of my life's chapter... people who I just couldn't fit into my life any longer... people who meant so much at one point of time that I thought I couldn't just live without them but I'm still living... people who I had lost to time, space or death... people who meant so much... people who meant so little... and people who made no difference at all... people who I lost and found and lost again... people who taught me to live... people who gave me pain... people who showed me how to laugh and be happy... people who taught me some simple pleasures and truths of life... people who I have fought with like a bitch... people I have played with as a child... people who played a great role in moulding me into the person I am today... people who were just being their own...

Suddenly I felt all alone and wanted to reach out to all of them with a heartful of love and arms full of hugs. I felt that if I died in my sleep, I would never ever be able to tell them that its alright... maybe I was wrong at times too... that, I would want to say 'sorry' for any wrong I have done or said or if I hurt them without knowing... that, it would be so much more beautiful to be friends again rather than being enemies or to have negative vibes with each other...

... and in the midst of such heavy thinking, the 'beer' took over and put me into a deep dreamless sleep....

OOPS! I DO IT AGAIN AND AGAIN...

For me, following a trend or any latest fashion has always been a pain... in the wrong place. As far as I can remember, I have always been experimentative about my looks and my style, since my college days... last couple of years of my graduating period, that is. Coming from a family like mine, I always had this pressure of looking-'decent'-factor about my appearance rather than attractive. Fashion was not only debatable-it was despicable, worrisome and damnable in our family. I have always been made to understand from my school days that a 'decent girl' is the one who wore her skirts or frocks below her knees. That included even the school uniforms-white shirts, atleast 2 sizes larger than the actual fit and pleated grey skirts falling below the knee-level, hair tied or pleated in 'two', broad red-ribbons intact. Any teacher or sister who would notice anyone with their skirts above or at the knee-level, would pull open the hem-stitches of the wearer or call up the parents summoning for new 'longer' skirts immediately. If it were for my teachers at school, I'd still be sporting oversized 'decent shirts' and long 'granny-skirts' and if it were for my parents, very loose salwar-kameez with dupatta intact and pinned up in the 'right' places. Fitted jeans labelled the girl-wearer as 'super-fast', so wear if you must, there were 'baggy-jeans' available in the 'decent' category. I did sport that kind of a look till I was maybe in the second or third year of my graduation in college.

As I started reading more Fashion Magazines with shifted interest to the glamorous Fashion-designing world from the boring accountancy balance-sheets, I became more and more aware of the latest trends, colours, designs and styles suited for different individuals. I still can't get over the first reaction emitted by my college friends when I wore black-nailpolish for an annual college function (a shade which was a specially ordered via someone coming back home from abroad). It matched perfectly with my attire and make-up, but even though it complimented my looks, it was not accepted and highly criticised and discouraged. Nobody had ever heard of the smokey-eye-effect at that time, forget about gothic make-up. One of my friends even offered to repaint my nails with her matte-pink polish over my black-coated nails, to 'normalise' my look. Of-course I did not relent to the offer. Slowly, I designed myself short kurtas with patiala pyjamas as an alternative to the very draggy long salwar-kameezes which everyone wore. The short kurtas looked smarter and were more convenient when worn loose even without dupattas. But of-course, the trend had not started then, and no matter how covered or decent they were to me, eyes were rolled up and eye-brows raised. My parents were enraged and asked me soon to discard away my 'fully-faaltu' designs.

Soon after I completed my college, graduating with accountancy honors, and discovering my new-found passion for fashion-designing, I shifted base to Delhi from Guwahati (my hometown), of-course with much opposition from my parents, who thought Fashion-designing was not a career at all... an MBA degree or Bank P.O. would have been a much preferred option. However, I moved here and as I stayed away from home and far from the constant scrutiny of my parents, I found myself being free to choose my clothes and styles that I liked to carry on myself. I gave away all my salwar-kameezes that I had carried with me to Delhi, to an orphanage. Then I started wearing clothes I found more comfortable to work in. As I was always on the 'go' mode, designing-classes in the morning, part-time job at the 'Habitat Centre' in the afternoons till late night, I was mostly in jeans, 6-pocket-cargos, tees, shirts and kurtas. It was utterly convenient to board a bus or cross the busy ring-road in a hurry, without my age-old salwar-kameez-dupatta get-up. The jeans or the cargos and kurtas with pockets made everything fit in place, handier and hassle-free. I felt free and more confident. I seldom wore salwar-kameez ever, after that. (And my ma still longs to see me in them.)
Next, I got my waist-length hair chopped off to a shoulder-length step-cut. It made me look nicer and much younger. It was also more easier to style as well as to maintain my hair.

For a couple of times when I visited home during the holidays or for any other festive ocassions, each time sporting a new-look, my parents, sisters and relatives expressed shock. But then I realised and made my folks realise that people would say something or the other anyway. If I put on some weight people would remark on that; if I lost weight they would still have a problem with that. Ditto for my hair-style and dressing. Then my parents stopped being shocked any further... or atleast they stopped reacting any more...
Of course, when I went home wearing my newly acquired low-waist levi's as the fashion had just hit Delhi and the other metros in India, my ma was scandalised. She couldn't understand whether I was gaining height or losing weight, as to why the jeans always remained there so low. Also, when I donned my new 'dirt-look' cultured denim jacket (not to mention it costed me a fortune), my dad soaked it in surf-exel for two nights straight before washing it clean with all his might, until the brown colour of it was replaced by no colour or almost white. While I did not realise that my jacket was missing, my dad was so proud of his washing ability that could have given any washing-machine worth its price a run for its money. When he mouthed a string of (un-wanted) advice on how I should wash my clothes more often and I realised what the context was, I could have shouted my guts out in horror... because my priceless jacket which I had even hardly worn no longer looked its worth...

When I went home again once, with my newly acquired tan and permed hair, my folks thought I was dating an afro-american, not a south-indian. "Or was it the South-Indian's influence for my new look?" they asked. I couldn't convince them that it was my choice, not his. Yet again, when I did the poker-straight-sleek look, my ma lost her sleep imagining me losing all my hair and going bald one fine day. Next, when I tried the 'out-of-bed' look, my (then) boyfriend's parents sympathised with how much work I might have had to do or how little I might have earned, so as not to be able to take proper care of my hair. They tried to help and suggested oil-therapy atleast twice a week with genuine coconut hair-oil, especially brought in from Kerala...
With tassels, funky belts, chains, wristbands, broad-netted hairbands and pointed boots to my credit, the reactions evoked were so much more interesting! A colleague of mine said that my feet... actually my boots (which were so new at that time that I was the only one wearing them, atleast at my workplace... some two years back) looked like a witch's feet. So much for my custom-made boots with the exclusive 4-inch heel, made to order from the downloaded print of an international footwear website.
Right after my Goa trip, I went home sporting my hippie-boho-look. The concept was as alien to them as 'walking a mile-crossing the river-to school' was for me. So when I wore my handkerchief skirts at home or a shirt-kurti over the traditional 'mekhela-chaadar' for a family function, I wasn't surprised when my ma sported a 'this is satan's spawn, not mine' look.

The last time when I was annoyed to a great extent, was when I bagged an assignment for 'Schwarzkopf' the famous German hair product company. A German expert was flown in who gave me a new look with a nice style and coloured some parts of my hair, mostly hi-lighting at appropriate areas (the same look is seen in my profile picture with the red-tshirt on). When I walked into my workplace after my assignment was over, most of my colleagues were seen emitting muffled reactions. Only a few liked the look and some were blunt enough to say that it was looking 'horrible'. But that was a part of my assignment with an international client and they paid me... good. And most importantly, I liked it on me. Still sporting the Schwarzkopf-look, when I went home in April with expected reaction, my parents had a problem this time because they thought I now looked younger than my age. Till that time I thought it was a good thing to look younger than one's age (especially when you are on the wrong side of your 20's and still happily single). But my parents explained that if I looked younger, I'd be approached by younger guys for marriage, which is again not a very commonly accepted phenomenon in case of an arranged-marriage.

After the initial gnashing of teeth, swearing under my breath with clenched teeth and listening to the boring lectures from dad and prayers from my ma (as always) to let this be the last time, I tried patiently to explain to them why they need to let me be myself. I talked about my individuality, my modelling needs, women's lib and what not. When everything failed, I reversed the game. I mentioned how I do not grudge them their need to dye their silver strands into jet-black.. how inspite of me suggesting them co-ordinated clothes for a social-do, they would still wear what they fancied... that, it was them who taught me to assert my choices and decisions... And oh! How I simply controlled my urge to laugh out loud when one of our rich relatives tried to understand fashion and bought me a oh-so-bollywoodish 'Bunty-Babli' salwar-piece with 'gota-patti' sequins and dollops of colours and frills...

While all of these debates and convincing can be thoroughly time-and-energy-consuming, they are thoroughly amusing as well, atleast for me. All these debates contribute majorly to my eventful and action-packed 3, max 4days stay at home whenever I visit. But deep in my heart I know, whoever I am or whatever I wear, whether the world accepts me or not, my family and my circle of the closest friends, still will. That's love (for the real me)... that's trust (a belief that I'd never really cross the line)... that's family (who are the closest and most dearest to my heart)...

PATIENTLY WAITING FOR A TRAGEDY

Ma called up today morning at about 9-ish. It was unusual as I spoke to her yesterday only. And from the little quiver in her voice when she spoke, I could make out there was something wrong. My sleep vanished instantly and I sat up to listen to her carefully. She started with her usual, "Are you still sleeping? Its past 9am..." bit. (That's mid-day for her and dawn for me)

Then she came to the real point and it hit me hard... Planetary positions may trigger an earthquake in Assam tomorrow at around 8am. Its magnitude to expected to be of 8.5 by the Richter Scale, which is of a great intensity... almost that of the Tsunami...

For a moment I felt like losing consciousness but ma still kept on talking about their plans.... how she plans to cook everyone's favourite for tonight's dinner at home (just in case...), how she would go to her yoga classes tomorrow morning at 5 and then coming back she plans to make breakfast sooner than usual and if in case the earthquake doesn't happen, what she plans to buy as a gift for our neighbour Dutta-aunty's new-born grand-child...

Just after hearing this much I could not register anything else in my head, the rest was all blabber. My whole thought-process froze and I got nervous... I still am. I asked them to just start off for here right away. But she would not listen. Neither would my dad or my sisters. They would just wait there and be prepared to face come what may. Scenes from the movie TITANIC keep flashing by infront of me and in my mind.... how they all embrace death when they are caught in that sinking ship. What do you feel and how can you prepare for such a natural destruction? I don't know. But I can only pray that a miracle happens and prevents this earthquake from taking place. Amen!

FINALLY I'M GLUED TO THE IDIOT-BOX

For the last seven years of my living in Delhi, I have been very proud of the fact that I could survive all these years without a TV. I have been living in all kind of odd places, varying from hostels to PG accomodations and rented places and though at times I felt that having a TV would have been nice, but never have I felt the dire necessity of absolutely owning one. This is because I am a very outdoor person and don't stay at home much. I'm always on the go.

My day starts early with an hour's swimming after which I come home to have a good healthy breakfast, have a shower, wash up and read the newspaper. If there is something very important (like an assignment or an audition), I try to finish off that chore before I leave for office at around 12:30-ish. I start work at 1:30pm and end at 10:30pm, after which I reach back home at about 11:30-ish. After freshning up I usually read a book/magazine or write something or paint or talk on the mobile or sms-chat. During the weekends I usually catch up all the new movies in the nearby cinemas, thus contributing my loyal share to the sale of the tickets of these multiplexes or better still, go shopping till I'm totally pennyless... but then, that's when the credit-cards come handy. Weekends are also the days when I usually fix up my shoot dates or meet up with friends and cousins.

My friends and my folks got sick and tired of telling me time and again, in all these years to get myself a TV, but I wouldn't relent. My friends thought I was too stingy to buy a TV, whereas what bothered my parents was my spending all my weekends (and money) at the theatres. What nobody understood, was that I knew--if I got a TV, I'd be totally glued to it and leave everything else... and this was not my imagination... I know myself too well. So, when my father sent me a TV (from Assam), as a birthday gift last month without even letting me know till a day before it was supposed to reach here, I was not very amused. 'Cause that was a little too much. Obviously the cost of the courier must have been atleast at par (if not more) with the cost of the TV itself. But I didn't want to dissappoint him so I saved all my reasonings and debates which would not get me anywhere, anyway.

So even after I received the TV in one-piece and all intact, I was not happy or eager to put it up. It just lied around in the carton in which it was sent, in my verandah. I was too lazy or mostly reluctant to get it out of the pack as I could not decide on a place to keep it in. More than that, I did not want to be glued to it losing out on all my time dedicated to my other hobbies. So I kept ignoring it day after day.

My dad was disheartened when I came up with all kinds of excuses that ranged from 'I couldn't find a stand, and/or an electrician to put it up for me', 'its packed up too tight for me to open it single-handedly', 'the TV-stands/clips available in the neighbourhood market are too costly'. But then he suggested sending a TV-stand from Assam by courier again, and of-course the emotional blackmailing that my ma is so good with, did the trick. Last sunday, when I couldn't take it any more, and I did not have any shoot or audition or any good movie running in the theatres and most importantly, no money, I got a stand fixed on the wall and put up the TV. Finally! almost two-weeks after I received it. The cable was already in place as the last tenant who occupied the place before me, never got it disconnected when she left the place.

So, there it stands now, looking at me from its place as soon as I enter my room and as soon as I wake up, with its longing face... as if asking me to put it on and watch it... like a lover who never wants me to leave it. And I fall in its trap everyday... inspite of knowing that its a trap. Even if I don't want to, I still give my full time and attention to it... like a lover who's into a new relationship... ignoring all the old faithful friends... my books, my paints, sometimes even the newspaper, phone calls and my swimming classes, who wait for me ever so patiently, to attend to them too. And I don't like it. But I can't help it...

I don't know how much time it'll take before my TV understands that I can't be wholly and solely possessed by it and I'll need to share my time with it along with my other friends, but till then, I can't think of any way to make it and myself understand... Thanks Dad!

WHAT YOU DO MIND

(Celebrating the 59th Independence Day.......on a lighter vein)

Come morning and the sky begins to shed its silvery-grey mantle and clothes itself in a pleasant salmon-pink hue and the gentle, teasing breeze tiptoes its way through the sleeping neighbourhood, right upto your bedroom, to make it a little less than comfortable with both the cooler and the fan on full speed. So you have to pull up that 'endi-sheet' to get cozy and continue with that oh-so-pleasant dream that you dont want to end. Just then the crass cacophony of the neighbourhood dogs, roosters, children and grown-ups wakes you up and after checking the time with a squinted half-open eye, you groan : "What the @#*& ! Its only as early as seven in the morning. Why is everyone up so early today? What a way to start the day ?!" But then you remember, today is the 59th year of India's independence. They are being good sports carrying on the tradition of flying kites and showing it their way of celebrating the day. You don't mind.

You try to sleep back again and after vaguely remembering whether you actually could sleep back or not, you jump-start your day with a little exercise and a cup of black tea, as the alarm goes off at 10:00 hrs. After all, its a working day for you, as you work for a UK based call centre. And as you'll be compensated for the day with a day's salary and a comp. off, you dont mind.

Then, when you have to make do with a boring low-fat, low-calorie brown-bread-sandwich breakfast, you dont mind...it's the way to be...fit and healthy. Above all, its the 15th today and exactly the middle of the month and keeping in mind the already deteriorating bank balance (all thanks to the oh-so-irresistible SALE season and all those new movie releases), it will be a challenge to make ends meet decently till the month ends. You check the time again and shift interest between watching the neighbourhood children fly kites from your balcony and/or choosing what to wear to the work place today. Its a tuesday, dress code is ethnic wear and something possibly to give the tri-color a close competition. You really don't mind as such situations come only twice (Republic Day & Independence Day), may be thrice a year (if Gandhi-jayanti is also a working day). You take your shower and dress up, getting ready for work.

After half an hour past the usual cab-arrival time, it seems like an interminable wait for the cab to arrive, you try to keep your cool as you shuffle calls from your mobile to the company transport, to your team-leader and your colleagues in the same cab to find out the status of your cab's arrival. However, your collective hope is belied as it is almost login time and the cab still hasn't arrived. Just then, a transport supervisor calls you to give you a 'token number' and asks you to reach office on your own. You don't mind. After all, it will get re-imbursed, even though it might take a couple of weeks...a month...or a year at the most...

You reach the nearest auto-cum-taxi stand and ask the only 'available' auto-driver and when he demands almost double the normal fare plus toll-charges extra without batting an eyelid and refuses to budge an inch, you don't mind. It is a national holiday today and the poor guy has to earn that extra to make both ends meet. So what if he fleeces you in the process. If he doesn't maybe someone else will. But as you try to step into the vehicle, he suddenly seem to change his mind, as he remembers there might be a problem due to the delhi-noida borders being sealed. Just as you are in a fix and thinking fast on how to tackle the situation, there is a call from transport department again, saying they are arranging for a cab, after all. That, you certainly don't mind.

The cab finally arrives, picks you up and the minutes tick by as you're caught in an infernal traffic jam, and men, animals (read COWS) and vehicles snarl at each other just at the Ashram red-light as the toll-road begins. Just as you heave a sigh of relief on being able to inch forward, you're pushed back to the sidelines. Some V.I.P. and his entourage fly past, sirens wailing. You honestly don't mind, for he may well be on his way to innaugurate some building or flyover, which may/may not see the light of the day.

After the countless number of people being picked up from Noida and a short nap in the cab, you finally reach office at 14:30hrs..exactly an hour later than your log-in time. At work, you find everyone discussing the need to do something about the transport system. But you don't mind that either. So what's new? Which department or which organisation after all, is perfect? You only hope things get better soon. Time for another external-audit survey, maybe. As you settle down to start your work, marking your downtime for being late, and signing the PSB (pre-shift-briefing), you discover that the software you work on(read EVOLVE) refuse to function. There seems to be a SIEBEL ERROR (technology downtime)and nobody has been able to start work as yet. You certainly don't mind. After all, this is a technical shortcoming happening from the UK for all the processes and the IT-team is definitely working to get it up and running soon.... :-((

22:30 hrs, the day's work done with adequate downtime, breaktime, tea, coffee, cigarettes, meals, bay-decorating and some calls, too, its log-off time now. But easier said than done, the same old rigmarole of hunting down the right cab from the other building, starts all over. Once inside the cab, you find yourself precariously positioned between colleagues breathing down your neck, literally and otherwise, as there have been a few allignments, in addition to the maximum people who can actually fit in comfortably. You ignore the foot that is comfortably placed on yours or the elbow sticking onto your head, for all of you are sailing in the same boat...er, cab. Actually its much the same what with the roads being what they are and the driver driving the way he does.

A grand suffering later, again dropping the endless people in Noida and at all odd places on the way, you find yourself back on terra firma. Never mind, if you look like a slightly dishevelled genie, who has met a storm on the way. But the minute you step into your room with the fond hope of a leisurely aromatic bath, followed by reading that book you have been planning for ages now, with a chilled glass of juice, some crunchies and a cigarette, the electricity goes off.

NOW THAT YOU CERTAINLY MIND!

A SPACE OF MY OWN

Growing up is not easy… especially not with the complexities of living with an extended family, interacting with them 24 hours a day and yet craving for some personal space.During my teens, I remember this great desire for a pad of my own… where I could hibernate and escape from everything and everyone to be with my own self. Those days I was anything but this gregarious extrovert which I am now. Like all teens, I used to be extremely shy to confront people. And I could give anything at my possible capacity to anyone who would save me from this huge punishment of ‘socializing’ with so-called ‘guests’.It was easier said than done. For one, my ma never used to leave me alone. She would want me to come out, meet the guests and talk to them… talk sense, that is, while she prepared tea and eatables. Second, I had to share a room with my sister younger to me. So, most of the times when I headed for the room for some private moments, she would follow me straight into the room and try to protect her secret possessions or ‘treasures’ like crayons, stickers, stamps or comic books from my reach. At other times, she would blabber what prank her best friend played on the teacher they all hated or ask me if I liked that cute boy who has recently moved into our neighborhood, because she liked him too.Or worse still, compete with me in reading out our respective lessons aloud to insist that she is the better reader amongst the two of us. The result? We would both get tired and fall asleep before dinner at our reading tables and that made my ma lose her temper real bad. Fortunately, my dad was the only person who did not bother, as he was hardly at home, due to the nature of his job.I finally got some solitude I craved for, when my sister packed off to a hostel when she got through in the veterinary college situated in our neighboring state of Meghalaya. And hurray ! I finally had our room entirely to myself. But that was not for long. Her place was quickly taken up by my youngest sister who was growing up fast and trying to take guidance and inspiration from me. But that time you don’t realize the importance of such moments which you don’t get ever again in life. That time I used to find it such a bother when my youngest sister asked me to help her solve a math problem or to help her draw a village scene for her summer project. And whenever my other sister returned from her hostel to spend the weekend at home, we three had to hole up in that one room, fighting like cats and dogs or chatting up like long-lost friends throughout the whole night, which would drive my ma crazy either ways.When I look back to those days now, I realize that the concept of personal space probably did not even exist then and maybe that is the reason I have such a strong bond with both my sisters even though all the three of us are so different in nature and so far from each other now.It was only after I came to Delhi some six years ago, I felt the dire need to have a place of my own. At first when I was working part-time to earn my expenses for the Fashion Designing Course I was doing, I needed to live at a minimum expense. So I had to share rooms with different girls… which varied from the strict-motherly kinds to the stingy living-on-your-expense-parasite kinds. Then again there was this hygienically challenged kinds to the quarrelsome kinds. Yet again, the over-educated lawyer kinds or the student-kleptomaniac kinds. And most of the times than not, I had a tough time adjusting and catering to their natures and needs. Then I decided to stay as a PG with a Punjabi family, but had a tough time explaining my odd late night habits and the never-ending line of friends visiting at all hours of the day due to the designing projects.Slowly, after I completed my course and got a job as an assistant designer in one of the leading export houses, with a decent pay-package, I felt the need to move out of the ‘Family’ with whom I accommodated as a PG and to take up a room on rent to live on my own. And that’s when I realized what it means to have a space of my own. I could actually burrow into my room to do what I liked doing at any time of the day. Most of the times, I would just sit and stare into space, perfecting the arts of (day) dreaming or doing nothing. It kept the world out of my hair and I finally had good sleep at night. I experienced pure ‘nirvana’ once I closed the door to the rest of the world. A room for my own self, which also stood for my freedom… freedom of thought and action. It was the only place where I could ‘maro a sutta’ without anyone else finding out. It gave me creative ideas to design, paint, read, or jot down my thoughts. I could play my own music, at the volume I pleased (at reasonable hours of the day or night). I could keep things the way I wanted to, dress the way I felt like and stick the kind of posters I loved to drool over (read—a shirtless wet-n-wild John Abraham—drool…drool !!). It was a precious place for concentrated study to clear the designing papers to get the diploma or prepare for the numerous interviews that followed.Measuring it from all the sides and angles, after all these years I feel, in today’s world we all are under tremendous pressure from both within and outside the family. The pressures of family, siblings, room-mates, bosses, peers or job-targets can be quite over-struggling and can even sometimes throw a person out of gear. So, I vote for a single solitary place for each individual which we all need not necessarily a room, but a little space we can call our own. A place to unwind… a place we can be with our own selves without any pretence… a place to find our own identity… a piece of peace on earth !