silent night, biright lights and some perspective

the festive season while making you feel very festive, also gets me thinking. thinking about things, little things, and things slightly bigger - like say one's attitude towards life and people.

so as plum cakes, secret santa games, wish lists, red and white dress codes, do the rounds, so do thoughts like, 'what am i?'; 'is it the real version of me'; 'is this what i want to become?'; 'what lies ahead of me'; and 'am i happy with the version of me?', etcetera.

the last thought stayed with me more than i would have liked it to, and then it got me thinking. thinking hard. well, no matter what femina says [yeah, i browse through it sometimes, very, very rarely], there are, at last count, 47 things that i would want to change about myself. so, i am not at peace with the version of me.


so what's that thing about me that irks me the most? well, it would be my tendency of trying to fit in. in different groups and in different moods. so, on this beautiful Christmas eve evening, as i listen to silent night, holy night, see pretty little stars in gold, silver and pink, and eat my body weight in plum cake, i decide. i decide to no more trying to fit in. it's so much easier to make one happy than trying to appease around hundred thousand people, that is if i live up to ninety. and yes that one i was talking about would be moi. :)


merry christmas everyone.

The Commute Chronicles – part une

Lately I have been spending a lot of time on the road. Lot would be over an hour a day. Which surely isn't much by most city standards, but it's a little out of my comfort zone. And if you are curious, my comfort zone would be anywhere between 0.5-1 mile.

And since I only travel from one part of the city to just another part of the city, again like most of us; I seldom see scenes like migratory birds returning home; sweaty and muscular, leather clad cowboys getting to work at the crack of dawn, or peasant girls in their pretty peasant tops eating warm bread and stew under apple laden apple trees. Sigh!

My mode of transport is always the auto rickshaw. AKA the thuk thuk, such a cool name isn't it, love the way anthony bourdain says it, I digress. Okay so there are two kinds of autos in this part of world – share autos and non-sharing autos also known as autos. Sharing autos are shared by around 6 passengers or more to go from point A to B, they function more like tiny buses. So you got to board and get down only at fixed points. You wouldn't be able to get down at a point say say P. But if the auto driver is a good man, he would be ready to drop you at any point between A and B, of course without him having to deviate from his usual route.

The other is the non-sharing kind, also known as the monsters; where you or you and your friends hire the auto and go to a destination of your choice. Sometimes you can also ask the auto driver, again if he is a good man, to wait, as you run errands. You could of course pay him some extra bucks for his kind gesture.

But the most significant difference between a sharing and a non-sharing auto is the meter-system. Sharing ones, usually have fixed rates. Not a penny more, not a penny less. Such a tiresome phrase I know, but the temptation to use it right now far exceeded my embarrassment for having used it. And I wander again. Also, the share-auto drivers never play the i-don't-have-change game. They have a certain work ethic.

Getting back to the non-sharing kinds, in an ideal world they would run on unrigged meter systems. And not ask for ridiculous fares. And not grumble about it being too sunny or to chilly, or it being too early in the day or too late in the evening. And not mutter annoying things every 45 seconds. And not lie about not having change. And not accuse you of manipulating neighborhood names. Like I said, in an ideal world...

Coulda - Woulda – Shoulda

My friend, let's call her B, works in New York. She lives in a beautiful house in New Jersey with her husband and her 4 year old daughter. So, B manges her home, her kid, her job, and also did her CFA first level, and is now preparing for the next level. That's not all, she also learnt to swim, and now plans to go for ice skating classes. Yes having an extremely helping husband and an unfussy kid help of course. But isn't she incredible?

Last week, I met her on her annual vacation to India, she was visiting her parents and her in laws. My holidays with my parents and in-laws revolve around relaxation, and not much else. Not B's. Her free time was spent doing things and getting things done. And make no mistake, I am not talking about lame little things like shopping and visit to the spa [which figured too]. I am talking about heavy duty stuff, stuff like investments, properties, learning new things, etcetera. She learnt to drive, met up with as many friends and relatives as she could and most importantly invested in a land, a land that would be prime property, 10 years from now. B bought this land in a town, where she plans to settle after she and her husband retire. So, if this isn't smart, then what is?

Why I don't have any retirement plan or why am I not investing in lands in promising little towns, is beyond her understanding. She just doesn't get it. She often advised me, on properties, money, savings, and topics as drab. But has now, given up on me. Fittingly so.

I call her a super woman.

But she says being a part of New York's working population does it. The city's energy does it.

And I now agree, after having recently read about New Yorkers' obsession in a blog, about doing things and getting results. There's an old New York expression, summed up by a cartoon in New Yorker.
A patient is lying on the psychiatrist’s couch. He’s obviously just finished unburdening himself to the psychiatrist.

Divulging his deepest, darkest secrets, his fears, his regrets, his missed opportunities, his thwarted intentions, his unfulfilled expectations. The psychiatrist simply looks up and uses an old New York expression.

He says “Yeah, yeah, yeah: “Coulda - Woulda – Shoulda”.”

The year of a steep learning curve and not much else

Caveat: a very self-indulgent post.

So, I have learnt a lot.
I have learnt that you got to be unapologetic about what you got/are
I have learnt that you need to be apologetic about what others haven’t got/aren’t
I have learnt that a person is never all bad, you are sure to find something good in him/her that you could use [but of course you don’t point it out to him/her, lest the bad takes over (no honestly)]
I have learnt to appreciate a relatively free day at work [they are too few and far in between]
I have learnt to appreciate a busy day [they are the reason I can buy those goodies]
I have learnt to not feel sorry for my over-worked colleagues, [they never do]
I have learnt that there’s no escaping paper work
I have learnt a way around escaping boring conversations
I have learnt to be bossy when required
I have learnt to be a sissy when required
I have learnt to be frugal
I have learnt to be generous
I have learnt to accept my dispensability
I have learnt to enjoy my worth [Tad trite? Hell yeah but that’s alright]

Giorgio Armani, a typo and his idea of luxury.

Mister Armani you have a typo on your very, very chic website. Yes you do. It’s about the usage of ‘a’ and ‘an’. Okay, so having saved you a blooper, can we now talk business? Will you kindly offer me a job in your esteemed organization as an anything? While creative consultant for Armani sounds really cool, I am okay with a proof-reader’s position too. Only if you could fit in the word creative somewhere, err a creative proof-reader maybe. Pretty please?

Just so you know I am not a stickler. It’s just that when you call your frames – frames of life [nice name at that], price it upwards of $150, and have a killer website, you are better off not having a silly typo.

Now, moving on to prettier things, things like luxury.

“Real luxury is just a state of mind that allows you to live each day in a unique and authentic way. “

I am not sure if these are the exact words from the man himself, or thoughts of an over zealous writer at Armani Co. Whatever it is, for anything Armani this definition of real luxury does not work. At best it sounds pretentious and patronizing. Does my bitter interpretation come from the realization that I won’t be able to afford an Armani anytime soon? Possibly.
Coming from a super-luxury brand, how am I supposed to believe this take on real luxury? Humor me please.

Kia soo

First, my sincere respects to a civilization that actually thought of having an expression as profound as this. Kia soo.

Kia soo is a Chinese expression that means the “Fear of missing out.” Fear of missing out on what someone else might have. Fear of missing out on what we have now. Fear of missing out on what others might get. So, one could safely say, Kia soo is what drives us to do what we do.



Does it make Kia soo a good thing? Not necessarily.
But we could make Kia Soo work for us. Finding out the things that we would want to miss out on and the ones that we would like to hold on to.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

[This place looks like a typo-free zone to me.]


Believe you me, I tried to make a post of it right after it happened but just couldn’t. Typographical errors often do that to me. They numb me. They render me incapable of doing the only thing I know [or so I think] well.

On the first day of my job, my boss told me it would help me if I were paranoid. Which I was. But then as days go by, I forgot my lessons and the ignominy that follows.

This recent typo episode wasn’t even a typo. As in it wasn’t a spelling mistake nor was it a grammatical error. You could say it was trivial. But it was big enough for the client to call up the account executive and ask for an explanation. So, a typo it was. And I once again pledged to never walk that path again. To be afraid, very afraid.