Can we have some answers please?

It's a Saturday morning, a lovely Saturday morning at that. The sun is just right, the kind that's mild, not depressing-mild, but just-bright-enough-to-brighten-your-day mild. Yes, that's the kind of sun, we are talking about here. A day when your neighbor's 7 month old decides to let you have peace. Yet chooses to break the eeriness with her periodic giggles and attempted-chatter. Sweet. A day when the newspapers have features by your favorite writers. Favorites of Radia or not. And a day when Assam and Darjeeling forget their ego battles, and unite for the greater cause, of pleasing you that is. To give you that perfect cuppa. Yes, it's that kind of a day.

You get yourself out of bed, and get in to the treadmill. You run a mile. In eight minutes. You could run another. Right now. But you decide to shower. To get ready and seize the day. The bathroom looks goodhousekeeping-clean. You believe in angels. You get out of the shower, go to your closet. You can't decide what to wear. You like everything you see. Thanks to the ongoing SALE. You have quite a loot in here. But on a day like today, nostalgia is what the heart seeks. You reach out to the jeans you wore in college. And guess what? It fits. Beautifully. There's God. You step out of your home to walk into that quaint neighborhood bistro, where you and your friends are to meet for the weekend brunch. You reach the place, your friends are already waiting for you. You are looking as fresh as a daisy they say. So does the chef as he walks in to announce brunch is on the house. Why? Because you look so pretty. Could you ask for a more charming reason? The menu has been revised he says. It includes all that you love. He vanishes in to the open kitchen. You see him get to work. You see oranges being squeezed. You hear the sausages sizzle and smell the freshly baked croissants. The chef returns shortly. The table is laid. The spread is delightful. The chef comes to you and asks you to leave. Leave right now he says. You and your friends pick your belongings and prepare to leave. And as you close the glass door behind you, you watch the chef sit in your table, pounce on the food ravenously.

Yeah, and that's the feeling I was left with after watching Dhobi Ghat. Lovely. But not quite. Crafty. But very unfinished. Awesome. But abrupt.
Mrs. Aamir Khan, around here, we love nice stories. Nice stories with endings. It could be a happy ending or a sad one. You decide that. But not a random one please.

The Commute Chronicles Part Deux – The Conversations

In my earlier post I had revealed my choice of vehicle, yeah the humble black and yellow autorickshaw, driven by the not so humble [mostly] auto driver. And I had also mentioned that I travel in autos of the second kind. The non-sharing ones. And when you travel 5 days a week, spending at least 120 minutes a day on the road, conversations are bound to happen. Conversations between me and the aforementioned auto driver(s).

I am not the chatty kind, wait, no I actually am the chatty kind; just not with strangers who try to fleece me [ oh yeah :-| you could say I am a tad cynical]. So more often than not, it's the driver who decides on the topic. Topics vary from – local politics, national politics, ugly politicians, the few good ones, inflation, 2012 and the end of the world, the new generation, the world a whole, the life in general, to that odd bitter-passenger-experience story [my least favorite].

If I were to separate those conversations, they would be something like this – hmm true; wow-I-didn't-know-that; scary; yawn-yawn-why-doesn't-he-shut-up; never-talk-to-an-auto guy; and finally the awww kinds, which leave me with thoughts like, maybe just maybe I shouldn't haggle after all].

Last week, I had a very meaningful conversation with this guy, on a current topic, the state split issue, and what the opposition's next move should be. He also spoke about how inflation will cost the ruling party at the center dear and how onions are going to make them cry [:D oh yeah he could write some badass ad lines alright!]

This morning, the elderly auto man, suggested that we [as in you and I and our friends] can make a difference, we can reduce corruption, and what we need to do is, to be more actively involved with the media. Hmm... wise words siree. Point taken.

And then there are the ones, that leave me bitter and make me want to jump out of the auto, out of the flyover and wish for a spiderman rescue. Hyper-boles. Aren't they l-o-v-e-l-y? Okay so a few weeks back, I was on this busy flyover on my way back, and then suddenly the auto man slows down a little and says, “madam do you see this flyover?” to which I reply 'yes', he goes on “well madam, in the year 2012, this will be gone, it will be in ruins, so will you and all of us. The world will be destroyed.” and after ten seconds of eerie silence, he says “completely destroyed.”many thanks mister Nostradamus, now can you please take me home.

And as the evening nears, I hope, today as I hop into an auto and head home, the only conversation we have is, he asking me 'where to ? ' and I giving him my address.

wishes for 2011

may this be what you wake up to


may this be how you commute to work


may this be the place where you mull over life, bills and plumbers


may this be your 4 pm snack


may this be the place where you and your man/woman drink your evening cuppa and discuss bosses and babies


may you play more

Have I made it large?

I used to eat paneer now it's Tofu.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

It used to be levi's, now guess does it for me for me.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

I used to jog in the park; now it's power yoga on my fuchsia yoga mat.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

I knew cabbage was green; then i discovered purple.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

I used to eat capsicums; then i got introduced to bell peppers.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

I used to haggle with the auto walas; now I don't.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

I used to hate spending 18 bucks on onions, now I am okay with 55.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

I used to pluck guavas from the tree, now i have ones with barcodes on them.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

It used to sabzi mandi every sunday; now it's ruci and idoni.
But I ask myself, have I made it large?

Guess you get the drift, I absolutely hate seagram's newest ad, the one featuring Sail Ali Khan and the other with Gautam Gambhir. It's so, so tacky. OMG and those lines. I cringe every time I watch it. you have to watch the tvc, to see what i mean. pretentious junk. and being born at Pataudi estate to Mansoor Pataudi Ali Khan and Sharmila Tagore isn't exactly our idea of starting small.

Dear Gautam, you are a prolific opening batsman, and Saifoooo, you have a lovely girlfriend, but doing that ad, and saying those lines, you have failed to make it large.

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”.”