Don't know what to call this one

Disclaimer – This entry does not intend to offend or criticize any entity/religion, nor is it intended to hurt any ones belief and feelings in any way.

It was one of those weekends when I hardly get about one good minute for my own self. I had been out straight since Friday night, and when I got home on Saturday evening, I had a friend calling from the parlor, saying the ladies are already there and waiting. I rushed.

So there was this Muslim girl and her mother waiting. I sat with both my palms stretched out, thinking mother and daughter would be painting henna on my palms. Turns out, only the girl was going to do this. Her mother was there to merely escort her!

At any given point in time, I have a hundred things to daydream of. AT LEAST. So as this long, arduous task of keeping my hands stretched out continued, I dreamed a lot, about my kids, their kids, n then everything that I wanted to do n blah blah. After about an hour when I had touched the tip of almost every desire that I ever had, I looked into my palms - and WHAT!??!! We were not even done with one side of one hand! The mehendi was beautiful though. I had run out of things to daydream off, so I found myself (quite annoyingly) staring at the girl sitting next to me, totally engrossed in painting my hands. She hadn’t spoken a word! How could she not have said anything yet? I stared at her burkha, and was tempted to ask her how she could bear the heat.

Anyways, just to strike a conversation I asked her how long she had been doing this, and all that crappy stuff. I knew what I wanted to ask. I just turned to take a peek at her mother, she was mumbling away to herself, so I grabbed the chance to ask her – ‘Apne kya padha hai? Aap naukri nahi karna chahte?’ (What have you studied? Don’t you want to work full time?) She told me she has done her graduation, and many computer courses, but her brothers wouldn’t allow her to work. I uttered something through my clenched teeth and said ‘Apke bhai aapko yeh kaam karne dete hain, par office nahin jaane dete?’ And quickly she replied – ‘Unko pata nahi’. Just to pursue her interest, leave alone career, she had to have the permission of her brothers, when she herself was probably as old as I am. I was appalled! Comparing her with me, I was feeling helplessly pitiful for her, that she has not even the right to make her own decisions. Would she ever step out and see what the world is like, without her mother accompanying her? I know this is probably very small to you, when you read it, but I couldn’t imagine being caged like that, with my brothers telling me what to do. I wanted to say a lot of things… but I just didn’t!

I don’t know when our country will rise beyond all this!

The worst thing about me ?

Like any common person, I love myself! (Is it all that common?)

However, there is a kind of circumstance, and just this one kind so far, when I’ve hated myself and wanted to pick up a “life master remote control” and rewind (undo – what we call Ctrl-Z) whatever I did/said. This is generally when you catch me extremely emotional about something, and if you ask, I tend to dramatize. A LOT!

I’m not saying I exaggerate. I’m not saying I over state anything. I feel and mean every bit of all that dramatizing that I would have done, it’s just that – its not very normal! I’m a classic example of an idealist. I have perfect ideas in my mind, and I strive to achieve that same perfection, which is just not possible in real life! And then of course what I would have expected is very different from what one would have expected. (‘One’ - as in – a normal person.) This would lead to more dissatisfaction than normal, which in turn would lead to all that drama.

Hence proved.

Anyway, I know a lot of people- who know me and are reading my entry- have patiently dealt with all that dramatizing. So here goes a big thank you with reminders of the dramatizing (although I know its not something you guys have forgotten: P)

My Mommy – when we were watching that stupid soap, and I just randomly cried telling you about my petty troubles.

Brunga – when you were in London and how I just jumped on you, in the middle of the night, telling you stuff.

Ashit – when I made you skip that drink with your friends, just cause I HAD to meet you in the middle of the night!

Ravi - When I shared every bit and every teeny weeny issue I had at work or anything else, with you!

Innu – ALL THE BLOODY TIME! (You were no less)

Shilpa – On those rare occasions that we spoke any sense at all.

Soup – Before every exam, and after every result (What a pain I was!). And of course no better drama than the day I howled in your car and refused to take the chocolates.

***** – Oh my god! This is a completely unrevealed drama. The day I typed at least a thousand mails in justification to you.

And all you guys who shared the endless drama – Bhanita, Priyanka, Abhinav, Preethi, Arvind, Chetu... each one of you!!
Thanks Guys :) I won’t change, but you all have surely become more patient: D

Rich n Creamy.. yummm...

Ordering a Pista scoop at the dinner table today, my mind drifted back to Wayanad. I’ve had the creamiest ice creams EVER at Green Gates, Wayanad! I tried so many places after that, but no, the best ice cream is waiting for me at Wayanad.

The irony being - although I can probably afford to take a ride to Wayanad for an ice cream, I really cannot afford to have too much of ice cream!!!

Madam - one and a half please !

They leave you with a bitter taste; their money is hard earn (Khoon-paise-ki-kamayee), ours is all lottery business; they harass; they are unsafe; and they are broad day light robbers!! Yes, it’s the very famous auto driver nuisance.

Since office moved, I don’t travel by car, and any extra traveling will be at the mercy of a stupid enough auto-driver. I caught up with my friend at The Forum Mall last evening, at around 8 ‘o’ clock, and we had to head to Shantinagar. I knew it wasn’t a good time for one (paranoid one) to be taking an auto. Having decided to go prepaid, we walked towards the Christ college entrance; the cop at the Prepaid counter recommended the other entrance. We walked there to find it shut! Got back to the front entrance, with an irritated expression well defined on our faces, and finally got a receipt – thirty bucks to Shantinagar. Isn’t prepaid just as pointless if they don’t let you pay up right there? We could foresee the excess fare menace now. By the time we approached Shantinagar, this dude starts off – “Madam this is not Shantinagar, this is Double Road”. And mind you, he was arrogant, very arrogant! This guy was totally bigheaded and argued till we showed him a big yellow board that read – ‘Shantinagar’. He couldn’t argue about it not being shantinagar anymore, but hell he could still argue, over just some random, arbit thing! We asked him to stop and when he did, we were in a lonely by lane. He said fifty bucks. We didn’t intend to pay any more than thirty.

It’s not about ten bucks but about the attitude and the unreceptive environment that these auto drivers create. They invariably have to ask for excess fare, all they care about is to over speed and dump you at your destination to catch the next fool. They harass the ones inside the auto and the ones driving outside. They are a big nuisance on the roads, and more often that not, an auto travel leaves me sick of the city!

I opened my wallet to find five hundred bucks and no change in it. No Choice! He was fuming, and could have ripped of our clothes any minute! I was well aware of where we were and frankly, I know a lot of people think its cowardly, but I knew that beyond a point, I wouldn’t argue. Of course, I wasn’t close to giving up yet. I asked for change, he gave four hundreds, then a fifty, and then of course – a ten. That’s it! We screamed and said he would have to pay us back, else we would complain. The moment I began to take notice of the number, he tried to run his auto over me while my friend still tried getting our money back! K A 0 2 A 4 7 5 1 sped off, leaving us with his damned registration number.

After all this, getting an auto from Shantinagar to Vijayanagar was a nightmare. We boarded at least three autos, with drivers being their nasty selves, demanding excess fares! Finally one decent auto driver came along and we got home that evening.

A year I won't forget...

The past year has forced me to stop, look back and reflect on what I’ve done right, what I’ve done wrong, and what I haven’t done at all! A year that started very well, took a really ugly turn and ended – I don’t know how. Most of last year, I was overwhelmed, with every little thing, and looking back makes me feel like in the grand scheme of things, this is after all a year that will just fade.

The New Year is probably the most well known celebration in the world. For people like me however, it’s just another day! No resolutions, no celebrations to mark the beginning of a New Year. But as the year ended, and I took a moment to reflect, I knew - If there is any year I would never forget in my life – then its 2007. The last year has transformed me, taught me lessons; sometimes I struggle to live with them, I fight to disprove them, but at the end of the day I hope to carry them with me wherever I go. I know I haven’t done anything like I did last year in all my life. It’s the first time that I didn’t keep in touch with anyone over months, the first time that people around me influenced my life to such an extent, The first time I accepted a whole lot of non-idealistic things, and of course the first time that I ended up talking to anyone and everyone who came my way, as a result of which first time there were shocking revelations of people. I had small achievements to help me sail through a rather tough year, and I had myself. All in all GREAT! No, I’m not being sarcastic. I was always lucky beyond belief, and its good if once in a while, your good luck stabs you in the back, and shakes out the cobwebs.

Looking forward to an ambitious year myself, here’s wishing everyone else a very happy year ahead!

Where's mine ?

She warned me - “Raje, you have never made mooli paratha, it’s not as easy as aloo paratha”.
I laughed… What? I wouldn’t be good with a paratha? I??
So I made the stuffing, and was all set to make the paratha… the best radish parathas ever! I had to make about ten - not a big deal really! I started, overconfidence stabbed me in the back, and I screwed up! The first two were nothing short of a disaster! How does mom do it? So perfectly, so tasty, so oil-free and yet so yummy? I tried, this time, a little differently, and – Not bad – This one was good, except, it was pale (one out of ten) compared to moms! And then Mom came, almost laughed up her sleeve, trying not to let down all that confidence oozing out of the dabbler, and showed me the tricks. And perfect - I got the next few right!

A good cook always adds love. Maybe that’s why, I always keep the best ones on the top, and up for grabs. But this time, self-love came first, and I so wanted to taste the better ones, just to see if they were like moms (of course, what did you think? I wouldn’t eat for myself :P). One tangerine, one orange and I would be done with the juice, to dive into my paratha’s. Sadly, when I was done, the last two awful ones remained, and I shoved them down my throat with lots of water!! We could have managed with a turkey or something for Christmas !!

Edit - Due to popular demand -
Raje - Used in Punjabi, to generally refer to a pampered little one.

Six days of grandeur...

Loads of food and gifts, the bridal trousseau, diamond and silk draped aunts, and lots of kids – There I was, in the “City of Joy”, Kolkata, at the Big Fat Indian Wedding. Being a Punjabi, I mostly know what grand weddings are all about, but this one made my jaws drop. Everyone, and when I say everyone, I mean, just about anyone, was dressed like it’s his/her own wedding!!! Suddenly, mine felt like acceptable work attire! And worse still, for some reason my sweet tooth betrayed me big time - in Kolkata of all cities! Every time I reached the sweets section - the famous sweets of Kolkata, remember? - I was left with an “Oh they look so heavy” feeling. Maybe that was just the true blue Bangalorean response.

Since I was there for the wedding and the wedding alone, I didn’t have time to see around the city. But I have a lasting impression of the city with the old Victorian looks to it. The tall buildings, the traffic cops dressed in white, in the forties style, remind one of the bygone era. The city is indeed frozen in time. And that’s what makes it so distinct. I really then felt, that the city doesn’t need re-modelling. When discussing Kolkata, I cannot fail to mention the “oh so daring” Cab drivers. I had gone to meet my Cousin, one out of those six days, and for some reason we decided to watch goal. Two of his roommates and the both of us, took the cab, and what a journey it was! It seemed like ages in a Cab at a speed of eighty or ninety kmph. The drivers defy any concept of a two-way road. They take you as close to death and then take a steep curve off it! And man, I was driven to the edge; I said my last prayers too! They particularly love to play with the dividers; they’ll zoom and rip till about a foot or two away from the divider, and just when you think you have taken your last breath, hell, you are jolly well back on to the right side of the road!

My best experience was a barge party on the Hoogli River below the Howrah Bridge. That apart, I did some pretty daring things, like walk out at 2.a.m (just a few steps, but that’s still daring by my standards!), only on the assurance that Kolkata is a safe city. I’m sure they just said that to me in view of my paranoid mind! After this visit, one thing is for sure - mine is going to be a court marriage!