True Neutral

I spent a lot of time in my 7th floor balcony studying for engineering exams in the early am hours around 2-3ish. Everything on the street was more interesting than my books. The men slept on the pavements, very few cars zoomed by, the shops were closed and very strangely for Mumbai, it was silent except for the creaking of my unoiled swing chains. Even the slightest noise or movement got my notice, I was desperate to look for a way out of learning about bistable multivibrators and Schmitt triggers.

A major part of my attention was devoted to the workers of Azad Hind Dairy due to the clear view unblocked by trees. They closed shop in the late hours of midnight after mopping the floor, packing the sweets, upping the benches, and accounting. Finally, they pulled the shutters down and closed the store. Two slept on the step ledge of the shop by the shutters, and the rest arranged their sheets and covers on the pavement. Everyone talked for a while and fell asleep. At 3:30-4:00 am the milk van came and the ledge-sleepers were delegated the task of opening the store to restock, yawning and stretching.

One night, the Street Retard (I really don't mean to offend, just can't think of another word) was walking by as the men were trying to sleep. They called out to him and he naively and very happily crossed the street over to them. He was asked to 'do his thing' which pretty much meant being himself, and they humored him so he kept going. I was so touched that they were being so nice to the guy. The fellow was so so excited he made some friends and a few minutes later when he left, there was an unmistakable bounce in his step.

The men were now laughing uncontrollably. One of them was aping their 'friend' and the rest of them were in splits. It took me a moment to realize they were teasing him. I mean I've seen this kind of stuff on TV but in real life, it was unbearable. I can be a sap sometimes, even cried a little.

I think about this incident a lot because of it's irony. The men had their laughs, and their new pal considered it his lucky day--I was probably the only victim of this scene!

Merrrrrrrrrrrrrry Christmas, y'all :)

The Art of Loving for Dummies

B.Com, B.A, B.Tech, M.S, MBA.....is the sad demise of a simple, clean, totally uncomplicated relationship. The more we've learnt and become 'globally aware' and 'career-oriented' suddenly there's new jargon to our lovelifes. There's commitment and no-commitment, there's ready and not-ready, there's like-but-no-love, there's mutually-exclusive and there's open, there's the famous soft-spot, and of course, the 'ex'-cess...because we're so complex, and educated. Because we know exactly what we want, and in the case of women (I tend to stereotype), we know exactly what we don't want.

And then, the final straw is the huge surge of expectation. We want our mates to be like God. Our best friend, our father, our brother, our everything. I want to be smug at my friends sleepovers and say 'My boyfriend is my best friend in the whole world' and they all must sigh and wish it was like that with them. I want to tell them how we started out as just-friends, then stepped up to good-friends and now we're best-friends and the best-lovers ever. And I want to tell my girlfriends how I share an absolutely fantastic platonic relationship with my ex-bf and we often meet for coffee and call each other every night to check each others pulses. So now, we want our mates to also, if need should arise, be a good ex-mate!

I am merging relationships and peoples and personalities. I want my boyfriend to be my best friend and I want my ex-lover to be my gay platonic best friend and I want my best friend to turn into my boyfriend and beyond that, I am still not ready for 'commitment' and 'marriage'. I want to start with open then go to exclusive but not committed, then go to committed and then if I am ready, probably think about the future. Reminds me of Karate class where each belt has three degrees and then you graduate on to the next color. Different levels for each degree, different responsibilities, different moves, different opponents.

These are the lengths we go to, these are the rules we learn, to protect ourselves from getting hurt, to get the much-needed nod from waitresses, friends, saleswomen, strangers. Yet, the only people that benefit from this little video game, are sitcom writers and the actors. And shrinks.

Mix-n-Match

Our French teacher tried to make class fun one day by having us play Chinese Whispers. She'd whisper a sentence in French to a student who would whisper it to another and so on; the last person repeated the sentence out loud which was always incorrect. In extreme cases, we had a prankster somewhere and the final outcome would be 'Aah-ringdingdingdingdingdingding!'

I find that with the export of Yoga and the import of Hollywood, a very similar thing is happening. Let me take for instance, a heavy word like Karma. The easy (read: Western) interpretation of this word has boiled down to a give & take of crime-punishment or good-reward. In my mind, if I am not wrong, there is no such thing as 'bad' Karma. Karma is duty. If it is wrong, then it isn't your duty/Karma. Duh. Hinduism does not endorse the good-reward relationship. It encourages you to forget about the reward, good is what you are supposed to do. You cannot reward people for not stealing or not killing.
Now, a big portion of the principle behind Karma relies on the concept of rebirth. So for those of us who do not believe in rebirth or Moksh, the simplistic definition suffices. Suddenly, a new understanding is developed, a combination of the Eastern wisdom and the Western beliefs.

Pizzas are spicier in India, kurtis worn so casually over jeans, the convenience of technology under a dome-shaped construction...ab dilli door nahi, meri jaan!
Practices and their whys are being misinterpreted/modified very gradually, until several years from now we'll have voila! new traditions, new stories, new whys.

Thus is the evolution of culture.

I agree with the elders constantly reminding us to not erase our traditions to replace them with new ones. I agree with the elders about learning and retaining the best of both worlds. However, each of our 'best' is different. Moreover, when it comes to alcohol, sex, giving up material pleasures for peace and meditation, we use 'best' as justification for getting out of...Karma! :)

That being said, I hope it has been noticed that we appreciate our own assets when the compliment is from outside. Validation is the human addiction. Previously worn by my doodhwala, the Madras pattern is now perfect for some of my cutest pjs.

Kitna hua?

A very very dear friend of mine called me on my birthday from India. And although I was pleasantly surprised, I wasn't shocked. I knew she'd wish me, I knew she'd remember. When I was to leave for America back in 2004, she came home to visit me a week or so prior; she cried, when she had to leave. I was so touched. Everytime I visit India, she travels all the 2 hours it takes to come meet me.

Another awesome friend I have has bent over backwards helping me in undergraduate school. She always made sure I had the right notes, that I had my assignments done, she wrote programs and printed out assignments for me, and what-not.

Do I do as much for them in return? Not even close. And, my first instinct is to use the cliched sentence 'I couldn't repay them even if I wanted to!' That is bullshit. I love these friends of mine like family. But, I am guilty of being stingy with my gratitude.

And here is the gist of the problem: I only give enough oil to run the motor.

I know exactly how much push is required to keep the wheel rolling and that's all that I do. The reason I do more for some friends and less for some friends has nothing to do with how much I love them. This is where the 'taking for granted' term comes in. In that, we're all subconsciously manipulative (for lack of a better word) albeit, to different degrees.

I have no opinion on this. Logically, yeah, now that I am aware, I'll definitely make more of an effort. But, on the whole, I'll always know what each friendship takes and supply at least the minimum.

Don't ever say 'I couldn't even if I wanted to'. That's a lie.

Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not, loves me...

I saw a movie recently where the girl gives the guy one of those glass paperweights with the figurines inside and you shake it up good, tiny flakes give the impression of a white winter. My sister-in-law whispered in my ear, "That looks so good in the movie, but if someone gave it to you in real life..."
"...I'd throw it on his face, the cheap bastard!" And then we both laughed.

The more we know, the more mature we become, the more difficult to please. Suddenly, my boundary for sappy has gotten sharper. And then, very cruelly, I label the gifter as 'needy' or 'hopeless'. If I was landing at an airport and my friends/family got me flowers, I'd have laughed and teased them for welcoming me like a politician.

It's now so ridiculous to wait until the third date to hold hands, so old-school to be satisfied with just lovelorn looks. He should be ready and romantic and each anniversary demands more and more. A gift after candlelight. And there are two choices for the kind of gift expected--expensive or thoughtfully personalized.

There's multiple factors to this of course, such as, the person and also the thought/intention behind the act. But, for my part, I don't want to be the one ruining a good thing with my stupid notions of should-be. I want the sap back. I want 'corn' and 'cheese' and I want to be able delight in it. And I want to be touched to tears by old-world romance.

Ah, to be young and foolish again! :)

The Secret Ingredient of Fevicol

This post is a polished version of a 'happy' email sent to somebody a few months ago:
My best friend and me have almost nothing in common. Its a Hollywood vs Bollywood, Aerosmith vs Sukhwinder Singh, Outdoors vs Indoors kind of a friendship. We don't even have a common life anymore. So then, what do we talk about? How are we so close? Who knows!

One of my good friends since childhood, I was so rude to. I didn't notice her haircut, I didn't like her boyfriend(s), I called her fat--and yet, I was one of her best friends. I have friends that can get away with being lazy and snobbish and completely irrational and I just shrug and love them.

Where does that 'click' sound come from in these relationships? You can make long theories about great conversation or great laughs, or common hobbies, or common lifes...and I will give you an example of a close friend that refutes all of that.

We all know people who we meet after several years and it's not awkward or boring, it's so refreshing catching up with them. Obviously, we also know the opposite of that, and how draining it is even to make certain formality birthday/Diwali/congratulatory phonecalls.

I may wonder often what that inexplicable bonding factor is, but the truth is, I don't want to know. I like a little 'magic' in my equations, it makes me value these close relationships a little more. It's so beautiful when I shake hands with you and there's stars; it's so beautiful when we can be silent with each other; it's so beautiful when I can stare in the same direction with you; it's so beautiful when I can look ugly in front of you, it's so beautiful that I feel safe and calm when I'm with you. And, it's most beautiful, that its you!

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Happy Diwali and Saal Mubarak, everyone :)

What's the good word?

So, I need some advice. I need to know the correct facial expression and the correct thing(s) to say in the following situations--

1. Moms in grocery stores, malls, trains, restaurants with their 1/2 yr olds: As soon as you pass by to pick up a can of peas, there's a sudden surge of proactive parenting.
"Put that down, Cathy." The mother sees you coming closer.
The child is fidgety and curious, "What is it?"
"That's garbanzo beans."
"Garpachooo..."
"No...baby, gar-ban-zo, you remember we made that last Tuesday?" Then the mom will look at you. This is the key moment, where I mostly just smile. But, I'm pretty sure a compliment is needed. I need to know desperately what that compliment is! Anyway, I just take my peas and walk away as the mom continues explaining within my earshot.

Now, let me make an allegation here. If not for my presence, I think 8 out of 10 times, gar-ban-zo would be replaced by a firm "C'mon let's go. Put that down."

Please, please, I'm not judging. In fact, I wonder if I'll be this type of a mother, looking for strangers' approvals regarding how I treat my kids. Anyhow, right now, I am the stranger and I need to know the corresponding etiquette.

2. Friends reactions to mom's babies: This is close to the previous one. Say I'm with a bunch of my gal friends and we're shopping, suddenly there's cooing and wooing, "Awwwwwwwww!!!! So cute!!!" And then, before I know it, all my friends say nice things and circle around the baby, try to ask the name, and the poor tot scared hides behind his mother shyly answering so softly that the mother has to repeat the name louder for our benefit. Meanwhile, I'm two steps behind the crowd, clearly the bitch in the group. And there's an instance, when after all the compliments from all my friends are collected, the mother looks at me her eyes saying, 'Your turn!'. Another just-smile moment where I need to know the rules.

3. Going out with a couple: There's two subsections here. First, when they're 'loveying'. Most of the times, you'll notice that one of them is especially mushy and needy. They'll keep touching their mate or hugging or mock-whining. "I'm coooold." So, I don't know what to do when they're being like that. Am I supposed to look at them? Should I look away? It's even worse when the girl will hug the boy tight and ask me, "Awwww isn't he cute?!" Do I have to answer that?

Second is when they're fighting. And this is weird, because I'm what some 24 years old, so most of my friends don't really have hardcore issues. It's petty stuff like "Did you eat lunch today?" that can wait until after I leave.

Now, these individuals I do judge. Because, it does not not have to be like this. I have coupled friends who I love going out with because it's normal and I don't feel out of place in their conversations or interactions. I believe the insecure partners looking for my approval of their 'true love' act all overly couply in my presence. And quite frankly, it's just plain rude, kinda like being on the phone too long when you have company. My honest reaction to these moments is just boredom/annoyance, but that would be inappropriate especially since, most of the time, the guy pays for all of us ;)

4. When I'm asked to sing: After a lot of 'galaa kharaab hai' excuses, when the audience is finally set to listen, and the song is picked, I have no idea where to look while I'm singing. Do I look at one person, or the wall, or...the ceiling? Do I smile? Do I look sad?

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There's several more of these question-mark incidents that occur so frequently and I never really know how to be, what to say. So, if you don't have any suggestions for me either, I don't blame ya! :)

Congratulations! You're now a member.

In school we woke up early in the morning for physical education...or something to that effect. The extremely strict Ms. Karnik expected us to show up by the dining hall bell at 6:30 am sharp. Now, that word is italicized for a reason. Not a single minute late, not even 10 seconds late, or the entire house and class of the person had to take 3 rounds in the big field (see the one in the picture? That's just half the whole ground, it doesn't fit in the camera frame.). This was such a task especially in the monsoon, because as you can see, all the red dirt transformed to a nice mud paste and our footsteps sounded like pch! pch! pch! I got this punishment once, a girl in red house was late by a few seconds. I was in yellow house, but unfortunately she was in my class and it was horrible luck. Running the entire time, all the girls cursing and complaining under their breath, "It's not my fault! Why must I be punished?!" "What's the point of waking up early if you're going to be taking rounds anyway." "Dammit." "Shut up and run!"

Noone except the single girl was late, and yet everyone was punished for it. Kind of like when I'm in America, and a white man makes a comment about how WE smell. I smell good. Honey dew, or white tea and lilies, or something girly. But, I never say anything when someone says that. Because in that moment, as marvelous as I may smell, I am Indian. I represent the WE. And, I know, we do smell. (So do the White men, but that's a cheap shot.)

It is about time we embrace stereotypes and get a sense of humor about it. The first thing to realize is that stereotypes come about from statistics. The human brain has this amazing quality of learning from experience and this comes about from it's ability to quantify and make quick pie charts and histograms to make us see how a certain action leads to a certain result, how it is necessary to clutch our purses tight in a 'bad' neighborhood, how we should have an umbrella in the car in Houston weather, how we know the DMV will take 6 hours minimum because they're government workers. These distinctions of 'bad', Houston weather, govt snails did not just appear at birth, we know these by experience.

Similarly, stereotypes are formed by experience and the constant charting in the brain. Mr. A ate an apple for lunch. Mr. B ate an apple for lunch. Mr. V ate an apple for lunch. Mr. T ate an apple for lunch. Mr. A, Mr. B, Mr. V and Mr. T are.....redheads! Thus, redheads eat apples for lunch.

So then, what I don't understand is why stereotypes have a negative connotation. We all want to be a part of clubs, groups, clicks, and when we are matched to our type without even trying, we think it's insulting. Our individuality is lost. Now, that is just low self-esteem don't you think? When Sunita Rao gets on a spaceship, we're all happy and 'Yay! She's part of us!!!" But, when we steal towels from hotel rooms, and leave shabby tips, 'That's just them. We're not all like that.'

Firstly, our individuality is never lost. It's never ever going to be lost. There are at least a 100 people in everyone's life that know them by first and last name and personality. We cannot all be celebs, or that number would be much higher.
Second, stereotypes would not sting so much if we knew it wasn't true. For instance, if somebody tells me 'Oh, you Indians, all of you are fat." I'll make a confused face and probably shrug. I know skinny Indians, I know fat Indians. That's a dumb statement, not even worth correction.
Third, no matter what you tell them, unless they are willing to listen, India will always remain the land of snake-charmers and elephants walking in the middle of the road. So, the best thing to do is politely ask 'Do you want to know the truth?' before beginning the sermon of "No, no that's Sri Lanka not us! We got cows" :)

So, maybe people point at me and assume I oil my hair, bring a tiffin, am brilliant in computer engineering, wear oriental clothes, pray to the Cow everyday, can cook and eat very spicy food, and have lots of body hair. Less than half of that is true. But, yup! That's me. That's my people. And I love them for it.

It's only fair. Because, I point at them and think they're oh-so-dumb, eat bland food, wear shorts and chew gum all day, stink, sleep around a lot.

Let us all learn to make fun of ourselves. There is no minority and majority from the global perspective. Whoa whoa whoa, did I just find a solution to world peace?!

Grains of Salt & Glasses of Wine

This is a sad sad post. And only based on my own experience: so, optimists, hopers, lovers, cloud # 9ers, and all the happy people that enjoy Christmas and Diwali and look forward to sunrise and sunset--bugger off.

Meant-to-be is a tiny subset of made-for-each-other. Through no fault of anyones, things don't quite end up how you dreamed they would. And then, another aspect of maturity is expected to shine through: compromise.

I do not know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I believe it's like a bitter medicine. Blech!, but good for you; and slowly with regular use, you tend to get used to the bad taste.

Sometimes, strangely, I've discovered which circle I am in with regard to a man. For instance, I know my heart goes soft for a certain someone I cannot be with forever. The smart thing to do is to stay away, because I always want to love him; I always want him to love me. Forcing the meant-to-be down anyone's throat reverses that fondness. [It's the 'unlabeled box' from one of the earlier posts.]

And, the mistake that leads to eternal drama, and lots and lots of heartbreak, broken-hope kinda situations is when you incorrectly judge someone to be 'The One'. This is just an error, not a sin. This is where the previously mentioned compromise bit comes into play.

It's okay! It really really is. I have so much respect for people that realize this and move on, making the best of their current situation. Looking over your shoulder from time to time is normal, and man has geniusly invented liquor for reliving those golden moments as good memories, so vivid, so clear, as though the moment still exists. After all, more than anything, it's the feeling that we're attached to isnt it? And if I can neatly pack that feeling away, sealed with a key, so that I don't inadvertently hurt anybody, then my love(s) is always always safe with me.

This is a sad sad blog because whether we like it or not, its a life of strings. I do not believe in shrugging responsibilities and duties. I do not advocate eloping, or affairs, or ecstacy. Everything in its right place. Aaaaaaargh, the uncertain 20's!

Grow up. It's not so bad.

Case 1: My father loves my mother. He has to throw her a 'surprise' birthday party every year--the only surprise being his style of announcing it. So one year it was rose petals. He refrigerated fresh roses till midnite and finally, when ma was asleep, carefully got the petals out into a bowl. We were in charge of cake and some surprise visitors. Bang 12 am (or pm depending how you look at it) everyone made noise to wake her up and papa very enthusiastically showered her with rose petals as she was getting up from the bed. She smiled at all of us and then suddenly remembering something, "Stop! Stop!! What are you doing?! We need to pick up the rose petals, they'll stain the tiles!" And, then everybody putting everything aside picked up the scattered flower remains grumbling.

Case 2: An old childhood friend suddenly calls me to announce, after three years, that she is going to be in Houston the very next day and will spend three days with me. "Tomorrow? Tomorrow?! Oh my god, I have to do laundry, vacuum, tidy up the apartment...not to mention shaving, waxing, plucking!"

It wasn't always like this was it? There was a time when we felt pure joy at these events, untainted by the miles-to-go-before-I-sleep tension. This is what decides the boundary between childhood and maturity, not age.

Before I get all the holier-than-thou comments on 'enjoy the moment' , 'live in the now', I want to clarify that I am not saying that this is a bad thing. With adulthood comes responsibility and with responsibility comes tension and this is how normal, non-Himalayan humans function. Osho ashram folks are calm and peaceful because they have nothing to do except sing songs, and meditate. In the real world, the world of Karma & Coffee, it's okay to frown.

If I was 6 and knew I had to clean up after my party, maybe I wouldn't spill so much. If my parents were filthy rich and I had a 24/7 array of maids, cooks, drivers, beauticians, cleaner-uppers, maybe I'd feel only happiness at my friends' impending arrivals. Its the state-of-moderation that we struggle to be in. Not toooo much fretting, not tooooo much enthusiasm.

Who says adults don't feel happiness? I do not agree with books that proclaim we need to go back to our childhood innocence, unlearn the lessons we learnt and experience true elation. Blah! As an adult, I have felt happiness for things I wouldn't notice as a child. If a car slows down to let me switch lanes, I am thrilled. I still want gold stars and smiley faces from my boss. Fresh hot coffee in the pot makes me smile. Reaching the light as it turns green, finding a parking spot on a busy day, don't tell me that doesn't make you jump a little inside.

A confession: I started this blog with the exact opposite intention. Of telling you to 'live in the now' and 'enjoy the moment' :) But, I changed my mind midway. There is too much pressure to live in the moment anyway. Nobody tells yu how much trouble you fall in, when you live in the big 'now' too much.

This or that? This AND that.

So, I was in midair for a long time deciding whether or not I wanted to do Phd or if I wanted to start hunting for jobs. After a lot of back and forth, I picked the latter. It was a scary thing to do, because now I AM in midair literally, and its probably the most adventurous thing I've ever done: stepping out of the comfort zone. Regardless, I gotta say, what a relief! Because, even if I was picking a temp life of uncertainty, in that I was certain.

It hit me today, while driving, how much it is in my very being, to postpone decisions. I was following the signs to get home and I realized that by default I aways pick the optional exit lane (white arrow, not the yellow), so I get until the last minute to change my mind. When I visit places, I overpack not so much because of paranoia but because I want the pleasure of the act of choosing what I am wearing. I take way longer than the average American for grocery-shopping: 'What brand of oats do I really want, and what flavor?'.

Men, movies, chips, clothes
Multiple choice, true/false... false is pronounced 'folse' just so it rhymes with clothes :)

So, too much caffeine-free analysis later (I remind you, I am jobless), this is where I stand: Love being certain, (but) hate making decisions. Dammit.

..tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock....

Doctors know that time heals. Engineers know that time destroys.

Timing is so important in relationships. Close friendships have crumbled because one of us waited too long--to say hi, to say we're sorry, to say I need you.

A few recent incidents made me extremely aware of this concept. Minor mishaps that could be fixed, the route was extremely clear for both parties. But, we waited too long. We waited to run into each other at common events, we waited till geography worked in our favor, we waited till it was so convenient that it was harder to avoid.
"Oh hello! Long time, what are you doing here!!"
"Yes, I'm back. I wasn't gone too long was I? Now let's talk."

It doesn't work that way though. The time bomb just goes off and the bell rings and anything after that for some reason only makes things worse. Then, you can allow time to heal. But, time heals, time doesn't fix.

We're all human and we're all friends. And in friendship, so many lines are frequently crossed. The best thing about friendship is that the same rules that apply for other people do not apply to you. You're allowed special priveleges: you can wake me up at 4am and I won't kill you, you can tell me I cook bad, you can tell me my boobs are too small, and most especially, you will be forgiven for (almost) everything way too easily.

And yet, we use the Doctor viewpoint. We wait for Mr. Time to make things better so we don't have to use a high dose. Why don't I clean up the wound when its fresh? There is something that makes it so difficult for me to say the words 'Sorry. I was wrong.' and I think blaming the ego for yet another flaw is way too easy. It all comes down to choices. What is more important-this or that? And we chose 'that'.

Enter the good ol' Engineers.
'We know that':
Too much time = too much wear-and-tear,
also, Drift α Time.

We don't have our own tv show, we don't look sexy in our Fall Collection of Industrial Factory Wear, we get dark circles when we work nights, and we look out of place drinking fancy-colored cocktails. But, we fix things as soon as they break. Pick us.

Reporting Live...

You know how they say that media and news and movies represent the current state of the affairs, a reflection on society so to speak. I just found another brand new, untainted source yesterday: kids! When they're playing their games, kids are the truest representation of the adult life. And lately, with this new extra-smart, technologically-enhanced generation, their outlook on adult life is not just confined to what they see their parents doing, it also includes television shows, aunts and uncles, friends...

If you're observant enough, you will see how they spoof grownups in their own naive way. Several years ago, my little sister would try to be my mom and it was adorable to watch her tiny arms and legs multitask--phone, rubbing her daughter's legs, and browsing through a magazine at the same time.

And yesterday, I was hit by the latest in evolution. My nephew and niece were playing house, and they were mom-and-dad to a whole collection of teddy bears. One day, a parent had to stay home with the babies. And as Mom ran off, Dad protested, "But, I want to go to the party with you!" She angrily came back and told him "I will not play with you. Stay here and read them a book." She threw a book at him and ran off again to the other room to do better things. And Dad had to stay home and read to the kids.

So, what's the story where you are?

Work is Worship.

"I hate beggars! They do no work, they're perfectly healthy and they're begging. They can easily work in peoples houses cleaning and doing the dishes. They can easily get a job at a phone booth." I could think of more job options for them, than I can for myself with a Masters degree!
If I saw someone at my car window with even a bangle on her wrist begging, I would justify my not giving her money because at one point she chose to buy jewellery over food. I know, bitchy me doesn't have that many friends :)

Even being a teenager was no excuse for my arrogance. I still stand by my statement of healthy people not begging, though--just in a nicer tone.

During my study break for engineering exams, I'd study at home all day and sleep in the afternoon; this was the peak time for saleswomen to ring my doorbell trying to sell me mangos, soaps, even thicker-than-my-pillow sanitary napkins. Annoying would be an understatement. I'd walk to the door like Sanjay Dutt in Mission Kashmir going to intimidate the terrorist in the cell.
Day 1: It started with a simple "Nahi chahiye." Close door.
Day 4: "Time nahi hai." Close door.
Day 7: "Busy hai, disturb mat karo." Slam!
And gradually, "Get lost." Slam!

My mother heard me on this particular day and didn't say anything for a while. Then she asked "Wasn't that a little too harsh?" And I got into this huge rambling about how inconsiderate they were and how they were educated and spoke in good English and chose to do this for a living when there was so much else. "But they're working right? You hate beggars because they don't do anything. Salespeople are not beggars." Dead on!

"Nahi nahi, nahi chahiye." Smile. Close door.

Gray hair vs. Gray matter

I went to get my hair cut today at Tony & Guy 30 minutes before my appointment. But, the wait was far from boring. An old lady, about 70-80ish, had walked in about 15 min before me, and since the transparent glass doors were half closed, she hit her nose on one of them just like in those windex or whatever window cleaner ads.

Welcome to America, the cops were called. The old lady's nose was red/swollen and she sat there trying to tell the cops what happened, while I sat beside her. They took her story and tried to ask her if she had anybody she wanted to call. She lived all alone in an apartment a few blocks down and she had taken a cab to get to the mall. She got a little cranky as she said she was going to move next week and it was so sad this had to happen this particular week. Understandable, I think she wanted some sympathy.

But, when the cops took the salons' story, they lied that the door was not half-closed. And the old lady got extremely angry! Luckily, for her, another customer backed her story, and so the salon gave in. By now, it was a huge deal. She scolded the pretty girls behind the counter and said 'I was calm until this moment but when you lied, I am so angry now I am going to sue this place.' Again, everbody got down to calming this lady. Asking if she had relatives, kids, anyone. She had a caretaker that came once every two weeks to help her with grocery shopping, other than that this lady was pretty independent. She was even a little indignated when they kept asking her these questions, "Why are you asking me personal questions. I can take care of myself. I am pretty healthy."

So, now the cop tried to get her an ambulance. But, our protagonist claimed she couldn't afford it. She wanted the salon to pay for it. And, I gotta say, me in that situation, I would have just nodded and done what the cops said. Unlike her--she was firm. Everytime they asked to call an ambulance or a doctor, "That will be $ 600-700, I couldn't pay that. They will make me wait in the emergency room for hours before they help me..."

I couldn't help but slightly admire how sharp she was even at this age. She was really taking good care of herself and not getting pushed around or cheated.

Then, she asked to borrow a pen from me and said, "I'm going to take down the names in case I forget later." And now this just blew me away, I was thinking 'She's any lawyers dream-client' until she writes down carefully on the piece of paper--Tony & Guy.

I don't know if anybody else gets the irony in this story, but it sure did make me smile :)

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

If you had met me some 8-10 years ago, I would have told you my dream of making it big. "I will sit in my air conditioned office and scream 'Ramu!! Chai laa!'. I'll have a secretary, and as soon as I enter the office everyone will get up like in a Hindi movie and wish me Good Morning."
I was always in fascination of those teachers we had who would enter the classroom and everyone would just shut up. In fact, when I played 'Teacher, Teacher' with my friends, we would all decide the temperament of the teachers: strict, medium and mild. And I would be the strict teacher. Hooray for power.

I interned for TTML (look it up!) for my undergrad and I called to thank the person that had arranged this for me. He was one of the members of the board of directors for Tata Industries, and that is as huge as huge gets. (He lives on one of the topmost floors of a high rise in Nariman Point, if that makes any difference in conveying how high up the professional and financial ladder he is.) I was respectful of his post, and I was courteously thanking him. This was toward the end of my final semester, and probably my voice sounded overwhelmed with the amount of work I had left to do to not flunk my courses.

This great, great man later got in touch with my mother and asked her if I was okay, and if everything was okay at TTML and why I sounded so tense. I still remember I got chills when my mother told me that. ME?!! He asked about me?! He was actually listening to what I was saying? This busy, busy man, took the time to show concern for an intern who wasn't even on the payroll.

Whenever I see this man, I will shut up. Whenever I see him, I will get him chai and I will stand up. I will say Good Morning. The only difference is that I will want to, I would love to and he won't even have to ask. I don't think he has ever had the need to ask.

Let us out!!

Some time back, I was in a car with someone who is now a very very good friend of mine. I met him at the company I was interning for and he was from one of their vendor firms. He had to answer a phonecall and he happened to say 'Oh, I was just with a friend blahblah'. So I looked at him and shook my head, 'We're not friends.' He was wise enough to laugh and tell the person on the other end, 'Okay, I'm sorry. I'm with...' I wasn't a collegue. I wasn't friend. What was I? '...this person'.

I owe this man for teaching me something so important :
There are these tags that go with the items we try to box like 'Friend' or 'Family' or 'Spouse' and so on. The most common mistake is trying to push people into boxes they don't necessarily fit in. So, we thrust them into a carton they don't want to be in, and force them to conform to that shape.

I have so many relationships I choose not to label. I have learnt to 'let things be'. A person I've just only met, cannot be a 'friend' can he? But, I feel such a strong connection to him. But, we don't want to date. So, he's not even a 'boyfriend'. A girl who I really admire, meet at parties but don't socially interact with so much. I just respect her personality. We smile at each other. Who is she to me? She's not a friend, she's not even so much as an acquaintance.

So, then? Let-it-be. It's okay. I'm not answerable to anybody regarding my relationship with them.

This is not to say that clarity is bad. I also like filling my boxes and being certain. But, if I'm not sure where someone goes, it's okay. They can get their very own unlabelled box :)
And as a result I have these people walking outside their boxes, outside of limitation and I absolutely love them for it. Part of what makes my life easy, and in a strange way complicated at the same time.

If there is one thing you can do for your loved ones, is to unlock their cases and let them get a breath of fresh air. No need to limit your relationship to just 'friendship' or just 'collegue'. The reason is, that every box has rules. And if you're in 'A' you have no right to ask me what size bra I wear. If you're in 'B' you cannot hug me. But, you're out now. Let's play ball. Let's have a drink together. It's looking at them like an individual. At their qualities, and at their unique traits and celebrating them.

Please, I'm not pushing for people to give up their boundaries altogether, boundaries are important, let's keep STDs to a minimum ;)
I'm only urging you to look at every person differently and treat them according to their unique rapport with you whatever that is. Dynamic rules.

Honesty is not the best policy.

My sister-in-law's sister is getting married soon. So she has to go to Sugarland, to her parents home, very often lately to help with the wedding arrangements. But, they're not as close as one would imagine inspite of living in the same city, inspite of the age difference just a couple years. Not really sibling rivalrly, just a basic 'unclickedness'. Anyway, this reduces their contact to just a couple phonecalls a month, and meeting at common parties. So, of course, meeting a little too often lately is not the best way my s-i-l wants to spend her weekends.

There's disagreements, there's arguements, there's mainly the 'putting-down'ness. I want to point out how different this is from me and my sister--there's fights, there's screaming, there's the slamming of doors.

So, an entire week of my s-i-l is ruined because of a random comment. And she wonders if she should be honest and 'talk it out'. I wonder too, if it would help.

See, formal relationships are not based on honesty. That is why they're formal. That is why it's 'nice to meet you'. And that is why they're not so often.

I have cousins and cousins-in-law that annoy the (bad word) out of me. All my energy goes in breathing in and out deeply so I don't lose my temper or get into a heated debate. Because, it is 'nice to meet' them. Because, we greet each other with a loose hug, cheek-to-cheek, kiss in the air. 'Wow. You look so nice today'.

On the other hand, I have cousins and cousins-in-law that annoy the (bad word) out of me. And we yell, and scream, and cry and slam doors. Because, I don't need a reason to drop in ever. Because, we greet with a nice tight hug, and comment on how fat the other one has gotten. I can tell them the yellow dress is ugly.

Formal relationships are not based on honesty. And honest relationships are not based on formality. There's an inherent closeness that comes, an added level of comfort, from being able to be truthful with one another.

I have a quiet, always well-dressed, graceful family and I am grateful for it. And I have a loud, dysfunctional family that I couldn't go one day without.

Tell me something good...

I went apartment hunting last month and came across this shabby but cheap complex. This place was perfect for me costwise. So economic, it even included free electricity--just what I needed for the summer. 714 sq feet pretty spacious for that price too. I wanted to move in there so much that I even decided to ignore the fact that it didn't include washer/dryer in the apartment which was first on my must-have list. Anyway, so I go there to take a look at it last Saturday afternoon.



(Again, if you're eating, stop. Or get a bucket.)



Roaches. Cock-roaches. I feel obligated to say the whole word because of the size. Well, to be fair, there were all sizes. Oh, let me also add all types-dead and alive. She kicked one roach and was satisfied it was dead. And then she proudly said "We saturated this place with pesticide. They're all dead." We walk into another room. Another roach on its back, so big that from the entrance I could see its legs move--and I have astigmatism. If I was a vet, I could probably have told the gender too from that far. She kicked it again, it flipped gratefully. "Oops, I lied. They're alive." I hope she was sheepish.



I STILL wanted to move in there. I kept repeating to myself, 'This won't happen in my apartment. I will keep it clean. I will spray insecticide every hour.' We go to the laundry room and I asked how often they cleaned the machines. "We don't," she said, "unless there's a need. Like if someone leaves a crayola in there." I take a deep breath and ask again because I wanted another answer.

"So, you....don't clean the washers at all?"

"No."

"Oh." And now I imagine my old days on campus. Blue detergent spilled all over, white powder on the sides. Hair. And not just head-hair if you know what I mean.

I asked her three times if they cleaned the laundry room. All three times, no, with an explanation. 'Dammit. Now I can't move in here.'

On a later phone conversation with a friend, I admitted to her, "I wish they would have lied to me." It's true. I wanted to move in there so bad, I wanted the advertisement even though it would be fake, and I would lose my head later on.

The same goes for creams, lotions, gels. If the bullshit at the back of the label is not long and complicated enough, I most often don't buy it. I want them to tell me 'there will be results' vaguely but clearly. Then, who defines what 'results' means and how much quantitative good comes from the product--I do.

So, I know Pantene is not going to make my hair strong as a climbers rope, but I want them to tell me that anyway. I know fairness creams don't work in 14 days, but I want to be lied to. And, please please tell me those stretch marks will disappear, and that I can gulp down massive amounts of Saffola oil sans risking cholesterol. Please be confident with your money-back guarantee (it works because we're so lazy to mail back the product.) Tell me I'll be skinny in a month's time.

I need hope, because science doesn't allow miracles.

'Shame'

A few years ago, travelling by the western railway in Mumbai was routine. Singing and dancing beggar children, bold and demanding eunuchs, blindmen and their beggar wives, fisherwomen, mothers-in-law, daughters, wailing children, men with itchy crotches were a part of everyday travel.

(Warning: If you are eating you might want to not read the rest of this post.)

One day, during rush hour, me and a friend climbed onto the train and stood by the door waiting for seats to empty. On the next station, a naked women entered the compartment. Thin and frail, she was so tiny. Her breasts were nonexistent, I could count her ribs from afar. It even took me a moment to realize it was a woman and not a teenaged boy. We are so used to seeing poverty in the trains of Mumbai, not many people cast a second glance. Many people did look away however, for fear of losing their appetite for lunch that day.

She sat alone on the floor near the open doorway of the train. As the train stopped from station to station, men from the platform across would look at the skinny, naked woman and look away. This woman had an infection in her genitals. She was trying to see what it was. Very unabashedly, she looked down at her vagina and touched and rubbed and stretched her skin to see what it was that she had. The men looked at her, the men looked away.

She was naked and yet, she was not a sexual object. Nobody judged this woman. Nobody probably even thought of her as they went about their day. She definitely had no home, no possessions. NO possessions. Not a single piece of cloth on her. Not a single friend or family member in the world. How could that be on the most populated country in the world that you are completely alone? How must that be?

Anyway, I digress from the point I am trying to make. So, this naked skinny woman with no possessions and nobody to go 'home' to is sitting in the train trying to understand the rash in her privates. I don't know anybody else that can do that in public sans feeling embarrassed. Nude people can be nude in bunches to save being singled out. Nude people are usually running. Some of us can't even wear certain clothes showing too much skin because we are 'conscious'. Conscious of what?

Where does this consciousness come from? Where does the 'most embarrassing incident' feeling come from? I think possessions and people play a big part in our public egos. For just one moment put yourself in this woman's shoes (or the lack of them!). If you had nobody to answer to, nobody to impress, nobody to call your own--then, would you worry so much? It is so much like living alone on an island with other 'species'. Self-respect, ego, pride, shame everything loses its meaning in isolation.

When I'm left alone, I bite my toenails.