MBA = Maha Bullshitting Associates

I'm sorry if any of you are MBAs or MBA grads. A large portion of my family (the family that I love a lot) are MBAs, all the managers I worked under back when I had a job and who I loved are all MBAs. But, but no one seems to get on my nerves more than an MBA aspirant nowadays.

I'm taking some courses which I share with the MBA students. And that is the worst thing ever. One, they are smug as a pug in class. I'm blessed with the unique talent of reading people's faces and assessing them when they speak. Yes, I judge. Handle it. So these kids are smug, arrogant to the hilt, all-knowing and if it's an Indian MBA student, add painful to the list of the rather impressive adjectives.

1. In class, the moment the Professor pauses, the MBA students *have* to talk. I sorta understand this because I like to talk in class. I can't sleep without making a point in class. One of the reasons why I can't go without reading to class because I get bored. But, but, when I talk, there is a point to be made. I don't say random bullshit. I've noticed that MBAs can bullshit their way through and in this category - no one beats an Indian MBA student who like to do the same more so because there are other Indian students who are not MBA students in class a.k.a me. *snigger* There is this girl in class who sits right opposite me who I feel like slapping in every class. Her statements always begin with an urgency. "Professor X, do you think this works that way?" *quick look at our side- the non MBA side - snigger, and snigger at me specifically* and turn back to listen to him and nod aggressively. Eff you, dear girl. I think your English is so bad that this Professor may not understand your answers and lower your grade, while I can bullshit rather well in English in exams. That is how I sit opposite you watching you make eyes at me.

2. In seminars - you know, the active types? Always doing stuff, running up and down the auditorium? In Chennai, they are called enthu-cutlets or pataanis. I was that. Though, of course, I never sucked up. I loved, loved participating and doing stuff in school and college but never behaved like I needed better grades. Because I got them anyway. Thank you.

So, we had this seminar (the most boring ever with a girl next to me eating pasta with stinky cheese- the smell was like puke. Ugh!) before which we had an equally boring Q&A session with the speaker. Yours truly was one of the few to be selected for this Q&A. Nothing to be proud of, in this case, unfortunately. This Indian girl, with this huge grey sweater and large hoops (prompting my classmate to say she looked like a whore - I don't know the cultural context, tbh) who I've been with in other seminars sat close to the speaker. Offered him water 5 times in the half hour Q&A session. Okay, make that 2 times. Smiled at him. Had the most stupid questions EVER. And really, I think every question is unique usually but this was just something else. Then, we went to the seminar in the auditorium where this girl ran around with the mike when one didn't need one. Again, rather stupid questions were asked, but well, I'm used to it now. She kept running around giving the speaker water, with the mike to all the participants. Really? Why this posturing? Because you are brown? Or, have you always been like this?

3. Same Q&A. This Guy was rather presumptuous and arrogant with his questions and interactions with the speaker and gave a 100 page resume instead of just introducing himself in the initial introduction rounds. So, after this session, there were cookies and water offered. Now, as a self respecting Indian student and a dessert lover and as a person who'd slogged the last 15 hours on assignments and readings, I went to pick up a cookie. My Canadian classmate and my American classmate walked with me. Just as we were taking a cookie, I mentioned how hungry I was to which my Canadian classmate said in jest that we shouldn't be too greedy because we were guests there ( this is not our School/Dept, thankfully). Before I responded with a wisecrack, the Guy who was behind us to pick up his cookie said: "So you've come for free food eh?" I turned and smiled politely and said, "it was a joke." He looks at me and continues in the same presumptuous tone for which I could have kicked him in the wrong place,

Guy: "Oh well, we have to be careful nowadays."

Me (least interested): *polite smile*

(Canadian classmate wants to run. I don't blame him.)

Guy: "So yesterday, we had this seminar and there was food available. We suddenly found that there were a couple of homeless people there who'd come just for the free food! *looks at me* Here we were, trying to make an impression on a possible recruiter and these badly dressed people stood there waiting for the food. I hated it man. I was so mad."

Me: "Well, we are from 'Y' School. We were invited for this session, you know" *sarcastic smile*

Guy: "Of course, I mean. Look at you, dressed up. I didn't mean you. I was just talking generally."

Yes dodo, for a person without a roof over his head, that homeless guy'd certainly want to wear a 3 piece suit to get free food and look desperate in front of a recruiter. And of course, you were talking generally when I went to pick up that cookie. May you not get the job of your dreams. May you get back to the Animal Husbandry Dept that you worked in before you got into B-School. I think pigs suit you.

To all of you reading this, of course, I took one each of ALL the different types of cookies in front of him. When he thinks I look homeless and have come for free food anyway, might as well do it.

4. Review sessions are supposed to help pass exams at hand. It is not a session for you to deliberate on your dream company's profit and loss statements or whatever jargon you use to call them. You're not reviewing how this recession happened for the exam. You're trying to get out of it. So, stop asking questions like:

"So, if this company is bankrupt, what happens to the income statement?"

Apart from the fact that there is no income, so no income statement, that is NOT IN THE SYLLABUS, dumbass! And this is Accounting 101 which I'm already failing. I don't need dickheads like you to make it worse. Okay?

5. Stop looking at me when I talk in class wondering how I can even contribute to the conversation about branding. I read the newspapers while you learn it all from this one class. So,

me : #win, you: #fail

6. Indian MBA students who are aspiring to get jobs, stop putting on this much make up for the interviews. The interviewer maybe too scared to hire you. And the make-up you use? It's for people with either white skin or really dark skin. It's not for people like you who are trying-to-be-white-skinned.

7. Also, ya, networking is good. But you don't have to prey. Leave that to the vultures.

For people who are MBA grads who disagree, please feel free to do that. I'm all for self-expression and freedom of speech, as you can very well see. Just don't expect me to agree with you just because you think you're smart.

And if you are my classmate and you read this post and think it's about you, yes, please get the message. I don't do jargon to sugarcoat this, and so, you can't take it if I tell you as it is.

Of course, you don't want that to happen face to face considering you are forever trying hard to impress your American classmates no?

Nostalgia

I'm a person who lives for and dies by nostalgia. I don't live in the past, but I'm someone who's very emotional and sentimental about the past. People, moments, food, memories - they hold a lot of significance for me. Even on my most practical days.

Today is one such day. I have tons to study and I will, without fail. I've become that kind of a student. Always studying. Not because I'm a nerd, but I think its because I fear failure. I fear academic failure. Its taken a lot to get back to academics. I hate academics. Even now when I'm actually enjoying what I do. So, I'm worried that a single failure will push me back. I guess it will take some time to get back to telling myself what I told myself all the 22 years that I studied. Academics is bullshit. Its the person you are that makes a difference :D Trust me, its true.

I've been looking forever for this Class 11-12 (PUC in Bangalore) classmate of mine. She and I were super close. She was born to study Science and Engineering and she was determined to do very well. I hated Science and I didn't do well those two years. But one thing that kept me going to class and trying harder every time was my friendship with this girl. 1998 certainly didn't have Facebook and I certainly wasn't tech savvy to have an email account to exchange. Plus, hey, we were in the same city. Who thought of moving anywhere? Who thought of getting married and losing touch? We had our home phone numbers. No kid owned a cell phone and kids like me thought it was uncool and spelled 'spoilt brat' to own a cell phone then. I preferred not telling my parents where I was and sometimes, I think my parents preferred that too :P

Now, my 'online research' skills are superlative and I search for this girl every other day. I know her first name and don't remember her initials/last name. I never found her. Until yesterday. I was looking for someone else and I suddenly saw her on Facebook. I couldn't believe my eyes. I sent her a message and she responded. We exchanged emails all night. She spoke of how she went to my house in Bangalore looking for me a couple of months ago. And she saw that we'd moved out. It hit me then.

The house. I was 10 when we moved from the congested area to this residential area. I was this kid who grew up with no regular friends to play with (these residential areas had tons of kids, parks, slides, kids cycling around, hep mothers watching these kids) and in a not-so-cool area. I hated this initially. Change of school, home. Everything. I'm not as sensitive a child that I got upset :P so, I adjusted and made friends pretty quickly. Earlier this year, when I went to India for a vacation, Amma told me of plans to demolish the house with the beautiful garden, lawn, the long walk to the gate, the compound around which my dog used to run around, with the mango tree and the old, decayed guava tree. I was shocked. They wanted to make apartments of my glorious independent house (Bangaloreans in residential areas like mine will understand the agony I went through) I'm all for convenient apartments, but my dream is to own/live in a huge house with a garden and lots of space. And my house had old-fashioned red oxide floors. Yeah!

But nothing prepared me for my sisters' reactions. My youngest who moved in when she was 2 broke down and cried and spoke of how much she will miss the house. The other one spoke of how she met all her friends in the post first renovation 'last room.' I had no such memories, frankly. I loved the garden, the huge terrace where we made vadaam with Pati during our summer vacations, the dog we had. My friends did come over all the time, but I was someone who spent a lot of time outside the house.

But now? Now I'm crying over this house. I got this email from this girl and now, I have had SO many people - all old friends, classmates write to me talking of how they missed the huge house on the corner of the road every time they passed the street. My house was the center of our lives. School was close by, class mates lived around my house, college was close by. Shops, hang out places (remember those chaat joints in 1998 when we paid Rs 5 to eat Pani puri with friends :D), everything. No wonder everyone remembers my house. Because every one passed by it and we waved at them. My friends who walked home when it rained were called in by Amma, fed some snack, given an umbrella and sent home. My granny stood at the gate and saw which guys I walked back home with. My mom stood in the terrace taking clothes off the drying line watching us come back from school. The library guys came home to pick up/deliver books if we forgot to return them in time. My sister's friends came over all the time to spend time and giggle over studies (all of them were nerds). I stood at the gate watching my crush go home every day. EVERYONE passed my house.

I know it seems like a historical site, but that house has been there for way longer than we've been. The residents of the area know the previous occupants. So much that my English teacher went to school with one of the erstwhile residents of this house. While I didn't feel much when my mum spoke about demolishing the house, now, reading emails from more than 4 people asking me about the house makes me cry and yearn for those cool red-oxide floors, the lawn, the portico that was, the backyard, the everyday fighting over who was going to lock the gate and doors, the getting wet in the rain and coming back home to Amma standing by the gate with the umbrella to escort us through the walkway inside the house. The house I left when I got married ( I never thought this'd get me sentimental. I'm just not the bidaai type)

I can only imagine what my youngest feels. The years she spent in this house were her years. The birthday parties which were so famous, her friends on the road, her 'Ms. India' friend, the irritating neighbour obsessed with his 'frontage,' the neighbour opposite us who turned out to be the 'Mrs Jones' of the neighbourhood, the next door neighbour calling Appa and Amma 'uncle and aunty' though he was older :D Nothing can replace these small memories and I know how she feels. Now.

This post really goes out to that house. I hope whatever my family decides to build there is going to have as glorious a life as what the previous house did. This, I hope will be even more special since my aunts and uncles are going to be living together. All in one apartment complex. I can only hope that, this means that my kids and little cousin will have brilliant summer vacations too. Maybe listening to old Hindi movie numbers, trying hard to escape Math quizzes? :)

Hmm...

All my life I've been impulsive. I'm not a go-getter. I'm not someone who is so passionate that I see through my dreams. In fact, I've hardly dreamed of big things. I've only wanted to be happy. And I'm a fairly happy person. For all my depression and frustration over the last 2 years, there have been several moments of sheer joy that I've very recklessly not documented here. But then, this blog is hardly a mirror to my life or what I do or what I think of. Its random. Just like me. Just like my dreams.

As a kid, like every other kid, I dreamt of being a doctor. My parents were thrilled. Not like other parents who pushed their children towards academic excellence. My dad was thrilled that he could build a dream hospital for me. He loves building stuff :P Of course, the fact that I was a doctor would have made them proud too. I loved the idea of becoming a doctor thanks to the profession's noble nature. I loved the idea of me running day and night helping people. I still do. I force my dreams on my youngest sis who is studying medicine. The day she cribs about night duty, I remind her of the hundreds of women whose lives she could change with just basic courtesy from her. And by being paid for it. Yes, I'm rather selfish that way.

When I got married and cribbed, which has been the area on which my posts are all written about, I forgot to mention how I don't really dream for a CEO position. Or, to earn money. After all, I married a Post-Doctoral scholar with no money as an impulse decision. My dreams are not made of money, or clothes, shopping, a large house with a garden ( I do want to have it, but I don't care if I don't) or anything of that sort. I'm not aggressive about my career or anything in my life. So, like my dream of being a doctor, everything slowly fizzles out. I cried that I didn't have a job, but I never, once thought about what I really want to do. And soon enough, I did and realized that its not about a job, its about having something to do. So, today, when I struggle with papers and a grad student life, I rethought my life's priorities.

I'm in a long distance relationship and I'm not really enjoying that. But then, I know some people I love and know very well will point out, rather rationally, the results of this one year that I'm going to be away. However, they get it wrong. My worry with this course/this degree/grad student life is not about staying away from AB alone. Its more about the effort to be put in. I will be honest. I don't like putting in effort. I'm not a person who is lazy. I worked 24/7 for my college theater club. I enjoyed doing it. I didn't earn a pie. I wasn't exempted from exams. Nothing. It was just plain, simple joy. Now, as I go through papers after papers, all technical stuff, business stuff, things that people only dream of in one of the best schools with some of the most brilliant minds ( You should meet my classmates. They are positively awe-inspiring and they are all late 80s, early 90s kids. *shudder*) I wonder if this is what I wanted to do.

Today, I called AB tearfully and spoke of coming back. Leaving everything and coming back. Not for him. Really. I've thought about it all day instead of studying. And I realized its not because I miss him. I'm not that naive or that romantic, even. Its because I just don't fit in with these ambitions. With these dreams of making it big. That is not what I want. Not something I've ever wanted. Even in the worst times with financial trouble, I've not wanted more money. Or fame.

What is it I want then? This was a question AB asked me. Rather exasperatingly, if I may add here. I didn't think. I just knew it. I want a simple, random, clean, blah life. I will do by bit for this world by being environmentally conscious, making sure my kid(s) are conscientious citizens, see if I can contribute politically and live happily. I need a couple of books, food and people around me .That is all I want. I will dabble in Theater ( more seriously than ever before, this desire has come back) and write, cook, read. Blah. I want it like that. Boring. I want to get up every morning not thinking of a things to do list. I want to sleep every night not keeping an alarm thinking I may oversleep and may miss class/meeting.

No, I'm not saying I will not hold a job or will not follow basic rules for financial and life independence. Not at all. That is probably taking it to the other extreme. It also probably hurts more now because AB is moving back to India. The place I long for. I cry for India day and night. Literally. And now, I just feel left behind. I feel lost.

Many may say that I lack purpose. I think I lack purpose in the sense of being ambitious. Ambitious not just about career since that's a word usually associated with work/career. I lack ambition in life. And I think that's perfectly okay. I think its perfectly okay that I want to slack and do my thing. Which is not really anything. I want to have a regular job. Boring, albeit, something to keep me occupied, I want to be at home in India. I want to be among people. People I love, I hate ( keeps me going :P), doesn't matter!

So far, in my life, I've done everything impulsively. I chose to study in CIEFL as an impulse. Chose to get married to AB on an impulse. And I do excel at having fun with even decisions that have gone wrong. A lot of my impulsive decisions have swung the right way, thankfully. There have been some that didn't and I will be honest here, I don't regret it. I've just not thought again of how I could have been a doctor if I had decided to put in more effort. Surely, that was the only thing lacking in me that prevented me from being a doc. It doesn't matter! I've moved on to do better things. Actually, funner things.

Like I said, I spoke to AB about this. He told me to stick with grad school and do this because I'm smart and what not and blah. And that I should not let go off such opportunities. That's the cautious scientist, master at logic speaking. If I'd spoken to my parents, they'd have said: "Kanna, if this is making you unhappy even for a moment now, its not worth it. Come back if you feel like it." And Appa would have laughed at the money, the effort spent on this. Genetics is almost an exact science, trust me. I've learned it from experience. However, for a change, I'm going to listen to AB. I'm going to stick with this, against my impulse to run back to India and eat Pani Puri on the streets. I know I can do this. The ability was never in doubt. It was always the desire. Do I want to do this?

Some may even call me stupid. A feminist who isn't really one. Who said feminists have only one choice - that of working and furthering career? The course I've chosen to do here is rather high-profile. The founder of Foursquare apparently is an alum of my course here at SU. Cool. I don't want to be him. Or that girl who runs the Media campaign for some big shot company. I've never wanted to be her. Some may call me hippie. But I lack the courage or the conviction or the beliefs to be one. I do have a larger purpose in life. To be happy. To be passionate. To change things or the world around me. You can't call that a lesser calling than anything that involves money and career and a big bungalow and perfectly raised kids going to expensive schools. Or, will you?

Fitting in

I'm so not fitting into the academic scenario, that its not weird, worrisome anymore. So, I have just 2 classes per day. Yeah. 1 hour and a good 45 mins later, they leave us with more questions than ever before. Of course, you'd think that its good if you're from that school of thinking. I'm not. I like answers. I like answers to my questions, at least once a week. Its not too much to ask that we don't go home with another 100 questions and more readings to do, in search of the elusive answer. No. Stop right there and don't tell me there is no one answer. You should not even be reading this blog!

That said, I'm really trying hard to change. I've never been the academic sort. If you see the kind of stuff that my friends/cousins do, I'm in august company. So, this whole Masters' thing which was taken up with much reluctance is finally here. I showed enough excitement before the course and I'm sufficiently enthusiastic enough to still do my readings everyday. Okay, I admit, only the first week of classes just got over. So, since I have just 2 classes - one in the morning and one in the evening, I technically have nothing to do the whole day. I take that back. There is enough reading for me to keep me occupied every minute of this break. So, my plan to escape the Syracuse heat (or cold, like some people WILL point out) is to sit in the library. And unfortunately, this is not my kinda library.

My kinda library doesn't have academic books. My kinda library doesn't have geeks sitting with their Macs (I'm tired of Mac fan-dom, so, let's shut it) and looking at code or Asian kids sitting and studying like their life depends on it.

Anyway, since I can't even dream of my kinda library in the next one year, let's see what I can do with this. I've never had a good relationship with university libraries. When I did my Masters in Hyderabad, I was the last person to go to the CIEFL library. Sometimes, I'd go, pick up books, never read them and then dutifully return the books a week later. I'm very prompt that way. No late fees for me. However, EVERY single time that I've been to that library, a mishap has occurred. The first time I went, the librarian was taking us on a library tour. As enthusiastic as I can get over nothing, I didn't see where I was going. So, there was this location where there were a couple of steps (2 or 3) and a ramp for disabled people. The librarian took the steps, and I should have, too. I didn't realize. In the magic of books around me, I walked like I was floating and I found myself on the ramp and since we were 'coming down,' it only meant that I slipped and fell on my ass in front of the whole wide world.

Then, the second time I went, I decided to live my fantasy of climbing on one of those ladders and taking out the books from the top shelf. Yes, you're quite smart. I lost balance and I very smartly held on to the book shelf(-ves) rather than just falling down with the ladder. Holding onto bookshelves meant that not only do I fall, but I also make a carefully arranged set of books (over 200?) fall with me, and possibly on me.

Then, one time, I was leaning over the open encyclopaedia and the dictonaries on a big table and I'm not kidding, I fell over with my legs dangling in the air. After this episode which turned out to be rather embarrassing, I decided not to visit the library in future. And I didn't. Until now, that is.

So, my rather efficient, treating-myself-like-a-robot-plan was to hit the gym ( so I could take a shower, actually - shower stories in another blogpost), get to the 9 AM class with a wacky, cute, funny, frustrating but brilliant self-professed devil of a professor. After some severe brain activity and constant defence of my self esteem without violence, I head to the library, check mail, Facebook etc, etc and get to studying. Studying Media law which is really interesting now that I'm in Syracuse. This routine hasn't really worked out since I've been going home for some reason or the other before the evening class.

However, as I type this today, I'm at the library celebrating my sticking to the routine by posting on this blog! I came here at 11 AM and chatted with AB and a couple of other friends and then decided to study. This is when it happened, I guess. Because 3 hours later, I'm wiping drool off the Media Law book and wondering when exactly I went off to sleep.

3 hours in the library and I don't have one page down. Yet. I hope the rest of the year in the library doesn't involve naps. Its just way too comforting now that I've figured how to sleep sitting down.

News

I just wanted to let the few blog readers who are not on my Facebook :P or Gtalk know that I'm moving to Syracuse for a year to do my Masters in Media Management at Syracuse University.

Can you see that I'm trying to suppress my jubiliant yells? :D

Thanks. Really. Thanks for everything.

Is being smart the new 'sexy?'

A couple of weeks ago, the wolf-boy and I discussed a couple of articles that he pointed me towards. That boy, coupled with his fanfare for gorgeous women (read Sonam Kapoor and Tina Fey) has some amazing links to share for a bygone reader like me. You can read those articles here and here

In gist, very crudely put, smart women can't be sexy. At least in mainstream media. Coincidentally, that night, we went out to watch the Tina Fey starrer 'Date Night.' Thanks to extremely low expectations from us, we thought the movie was pretty good (in spite of bad reviews) In this movie, her character is of a bored suburban mom/wife who has a regular job. She looks the way she is portrayed in most of her TV shows - specs, formal wear and of course, harried thanks to motherhood (Very discouraging for the rest of us, possible future mothers) The one day, she decides to look sexy and look attractive (brains are never considered attractive for women on the first impression), things go awry. And of course, its fun stuff from there.

I'm quite used to this. A hot woman is always a bimbo. A hot woman who is intelligent ( say, secret agent) is only that because they need to show equal opportunity or something. How many of us talk of Lara Croft's physical power or her intelligence v/s her awesome body? Of course, its not our fault. That is what the film-makers want to project anyway, right?

This is not a feminist debate, really. When I saw Roman Polanski's The Ghost Writer, all these thoughts came back to me. I haven't watched any other Polanski movie to comment and compare on his film-making style. Its a different thing that I couldn't have done it even if I had seen any of his movies earlier :)

That said, this movie was a treat to watch. I'm quite tired of 'action' movies, alien movies, sci-fi ( I *hate* them) and random chick-flicks. I need to be engrossed, like most of you would like, am assuming. The Ghost Writer did just that. It wasn't entirely brain numbing as some other 'intelligent' movies, but it did make me focus on the movie in hand than about how I relate to the movie. Until now, that is. The mystery in the movie was so engrossing that I didn't realize the nuances of characterisation in this movie.

The wife of the British Prime Minister played by Olivia Williams is shown to be a smart politician, student activist, someone who understands the dirty world of politics and what not. And how does she look, you ask? Certainly nothing compared to Kim Cattrall who plays the Secretary to the Prime Minister and possibly his mistress too. Now, how cliched can we get with the idea of a sexy secretary? And of course, only women who don't get to have any other career become secretaries no?

The character played by Olivia Williams is always having a fight with her suave Prime Minister husband. She hates the secretary. You knew that, didn't you? She ends up being a person who 'needs' sex, so has it with the writer who comes in to write the PM's memoirs. At the surface level, the fights between the PM and the wife seem like marital disputes, the likes of less attention being given, of not listening to the wife - you know, the usual. The wife gives a suggestion to help him gain mileage in tough times, and he disregards them and she is upset. Isn't that what happens in everyone's lives?

But when I think about it now, a week after the movie. I'm thinking, maybe she was way smarter than him (which is true in the movie, anyway) that he can't keep up with her thought process and her quick decisions. He needs a posse of lawyers and advisors to keep things moving. In the movie, it is shown that it is due to her intelligence that he grows from an ordinary student activist to being the PM and it is thanks to herself that she is highly regarded. So, I wonder, was her intelligence also the cause of her downfall as a 'wife' or as a 'woman?'

In fact, from a personal experience of a friend who was recently considered attractive (in not so many words), a group of us sent emails to each other and spoke about it. Now, I wonder what was so surprising about her being attractive? Why? Because she is considered one of the boys and therefore, smart and sensible and not a 'pain' like other women? :) Or, is it something else?

Can't smart women be sassy and sexy? I know there are umpteen examples to prove this cliche wrong. However, writing this post, I wondered how I'd end it. As you can see, I'm quite scattered :)

Does that make me attractive? Because you can laugh, pat on my back fondly at my obvious confusion? Or, shall I trust my instincts that I'm smart already and ask if you consider me attractive?

I have a feeling I know what it is. I think I want it. Just like Tina Fey? :)

Creeped out.

The only thing I remembered today was Priyanka Chopra in Fashion found sleeping next to an African guy. That's how close I've come to knowing, meeting or talking to Africans. No offence to them, but right now, one guy is creeping me out. So much that the heroic me spluttered and immediately kept up a conversation with friends though I had tons of stuff to do, and ping-screamed for AB.

I went to the gym yesterday, which by itself is a feat. But trust me, there are more shocking things. I left my phone. No, not this. This is hardly a surprise, is it? So, I went to retrieve it. It is a new phone and AB'd probably kill me if I lost this one. So, there I was in my grey pedal pusher tracks with a random Tshirt, with unwashed (for 3 days) hair in a rat-tail like plait and sweating and my eyebrows undone (which should make you go eww now!) I was walking back to my apt after getting my phone and sundry talk with the apt office when I saw this big African guy running in my direction. Dressed for the gym, he nodded and said, 'Hey, how are you doing?' While I used to find it utterly painful earlier, I've become used to the ways of an average American and now respond with a smile ( AB says that's the clincher :D) and say something equally genial. I walked on, noticing from afar that I'd very smartly left my patio door open. As my steps became quicker, this guy called out to me.

I turned to see him asking me, 'Have I seen you before?' (I know, I should've known with this line, but sorry, I was fatigued after an hour at the gym) I said no and continued to glance at my open patio door. I just had to cross the road to enter my apt. He struck up a conversation. Like you know, am always a sucker for conversations. He spoke about Quikstar, and I quickly proclaimed it a scam. He said his cousin was doing it and he knew a lot of Indians did it. Turning red at the mention of Indians with Quikstar, I proceeded in good neighbourly fashion to explain the possible reasons. Next question was if I was a Muslim. I answered with my eyes on the door - no, and that I had to rush. After a couple more questions like this and what I was up to to which my rather guilty answer is: nothing (unfortunate, but true), he noticed I kept looking away from him. Rather, I noticed he noticed the open door the same time as I did. So, my overactive imagination kicked in and I thought that maybe this guy was planning to rob us, and was trying to distract me while his accomplice did it!

I quickly turned and said, I was busy and I had to run. I didn't want him to know which apartment I belonged to (after looking at my patio door a million times, yes) He offered to walk me to my apartment. F***! I walked along and stood in between two apts, so he wouldn't know. And to my luck, my neighbor who has just moved in and who I don't know came from nowhere and went to his apartment. Now, he knew which one I lived in. Well.

He spoke to me for a good 10 mins. On India, her/its culture (I know, sucker again) and what not and finally asked me to get him and his cousin jobs. I just lost it now and said that I was new and didn't care much and didn't know much and blah blah. And that I had to go. Next was a defiant, "Oh if you could get us a job, then, why not?" After this, I started to move towards my door. Then was the first creeping out statement.

"Come, let's work out together at the gym."

Me (ever so polite!) : umm, I just finished, thank you! I have to really go now.

Him: What do you do at the gym? Abs?

Me (thinking, thanks for noticing that I have abs and so I haveto do abs!): Lots of things.

Him: Do you do weights?

Me: no.

*Next statement which should have made me punch him.*

Him: Oh, I will help you do weights? Come.

Me: Okay, I've gotto go. Nice talking to you. bye!

Him: oh ok. Since you're nice and friendly, I thought we could exchange phone numbers. You know?

Me: umm.. *gave wrong phone number and my name (which he didn't get, thankfully)* Bye!

You'd think it ends here no? Well, since it is my life, and I'm stupid, it doesn't.

The next day, i.e. today.

The maintenance guys come. Remember I spoke to the apt folks yesterday? That was to complain of the tap repair and the wall damage. Ya, that was the only hint of anyone coming home during the day for me. Then, after sending them off and closing the door. The door that I casually close usually, so that AB can come on his own if am taking a nap or a shower. (no, don't get ideas here. there is more stuff to come for you to get ideas)

I heard a knock. A soft knock. I heard it only because I was near the door after closing it and locking it (after yesterday, I had to!) I hesitated. For the first time in my life, to open the door. I've almost never checked the keyhole and opened a door. And the one time I did in the past, I paid for it. This time again, I thought, I should. I peeked through the keyhole and I saw the scene from Fashion playing in my head. F***.

*knock* (a little loud)

me: shit, fuck, doubling up as if in pain, thinking fast.

*knock* *knock* (still soft, but louder than before)

Deep breath. Me. I can do better than this.

Open the door.

Him: hey there.

Me (forced smile): I'm really busy. I'm baking something. I've gotto go.

Him (peeking in): Oh ok. I just tried your number and it didn't work.

Me (very nonchalantly, or trying to be!): Oh, I don't have a phone, so no number. I'm new here. (WHY?)

Him: oh okay. I was just wondering if my cousin and I who have a photography studio could take your pictures. *smile*

Me (freaking out, but keeping that smile on) : NO. I'm sorry, I'm not into photography. Bye.

Him: Oh, you know, I've met a lot of Indian women, but none nice like you, you know?

Me: No, I don't. Sorry, I'm not into photography.

Him: Oh, you have a nice shape....you know... and I thought you know... It pays. And anyway you're not doing much. so..

Me: I really have to go. I have no interest. bye.

*close doors*

*run to computer - ping AB and other friends, frantically*

* call apt office*

*thinking - next time, I'm opening the door with belan and a knife and 911 on speed dial*

AB interrupting my thoughts to say: Next time, don't open the friggin' door.

This is the first time in my life that I was petrified and I was shaking. I've had my share of people who commented on my body and paid for it dearly. But they were puny. They were short, fat, a little tall Indian men with one weakness. This man, am sure has the same weak spot, but he was too big. Just too big for me to handle in panic. Because he knows where I live.

P.S. - A friend pointed out that I sounded prejudiced with my description of the guy and his nationality. I'd like to clarify that, it is not true. And that his face is very similar to the guy in the movie, Fashion which is what struck me even when he passed by me. And this guy spoke to me about Africa for quite some time when we exchanged notes about our respective countries. So, really, no offence meant or no bias here. I'd have reacted the same way even if it was an Indian. And thanks for pointing it out, D :) I should've realized it myself.

What path have you taken?

I know I haven't responded to comments in the previous post. And I know a lot of you had several intelligent things to say. At the risk of sounding snobbish and even rude, I'd say, we live in our own worlds and so, its easy for us to say - its the girls' prerogative or that the whole idea is bullshit. Its not. Its happening around you, whether you do it or not, it affects you, and you can help mitigate it by small steps only. That said, this is a different post. Sorry. I just wanted to take that out of my system.

I logged onto Twitter after ages and found a tweet from a friend. She found it creepy when she went to this website: http://whathappenedinmybirthyear.com/ and typed her year of birth. I did the same, just for fun. I thought so, at least. It wasn't.

This is what I got.

In 1983, the world was a different place.

There was no Google yet. Or Yahoo. Or Twitter, for that matter.

In 1983, the year of your birth, the top selling movie was Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi. People buying the popcorn in the cinema lobby had glazing eyes when looking at the poster. Remember, that was before there were DVDs. People were indeed watching movies in the cinema, and not downloading them online. Imagine the packed seats, the laughter, the excitement, the novelty. And mostly all of that without 3D computer effects......

.....In the year 1983, the time when you arrived on this planet, books were still popularly read on paper, not on digital devices. Trees were felled to get the word out.

In 1983... ..

...That was the world you were born into. Since then, you and others have changed it.

The Nobel prize for Literature that year went to William Golding. The Nobel Peace prize went to Lech Walesa. The Nobel prize for physics went to Subrahmanyan Chandrasekhar from the United States for his theoretical studies of the physical processes of importance to the structure and evolution of the stars. The sensation this created was big. But it didn't stop the planets from spinning, on and on, year by year. Years in which you would grow bigger, older, smarter, and, if you were lucky, sometimes wiser. Years in which you also lost some things. Possessions got misplaced. Memories faded. Friends parted ways. The best friends, you tried to hold on. This is what counts in life, isn't it?

The 1980s were indeed a special decade....

.....There's a kid outside, shouting, playing. It doesn't care about time. It doesn't know about time. It shouts and it plays and thinks time is forever. You were once that kid....

6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... it's 1983....

Progress, year after year. Do you wonder where the world is heading towards? The technology available today would have blown your mind in 1983. Do you know what was invented in the year you were born? The Personal Digital Assistant. The First TCP/IP Network. Color LCD Television..

In 1983, a new character entered the world of comic books: Wild Child. Bang! Boom! But that's just fiction, right? In the real world, in 1983, Kim Smith was born. And Kim Clijsters.Samantha Mumba, too. And you, of course. Everyone an individual. Everyone special. Everyone taking a different path through life.

It's 2010.

The world is a different place.

What path have you taken?

I know. I know. Just another thing to read and laugh or reminisce and leave it. I couldn't.

I had a conversation with some people who I've become very close to, now. Thanks the the Internet that wasn't there when I was born. I feel a deep sense of empathy with these people. I wondered, along with a friend why we got along so well. Some of us haven't even met. We talk everyday. Random stuff. Girls, boys, food, India, blogs, gossip, our relationships or the lack of it ;), our troubles. We figured it was because we are all in the same boat. Trying to take the same path. Like everyone else. Get a job, earn some money, do well. Be happy.

What makes us happy though? I realized this, only recently. While talking to another group of friends. The three of us did theater back in college and what days they were. We still feel the same way. But each of us is embroiled in our lives. We feel a sense of achievement and responsibility because we have jobs to do, people depending on us. At least this is what the most mature one among the three of us, S said and thought. V countered. The meekest of us all. The youngest of us all. The quietest of us all. She said: what if you don't do a thing? Do you feel sick at the end of the day? I tried to duck. I looked down. For all my bravado, that's true of me. That's become true of me over the last 2-3 years. I knew nothing but work before. I knew nothing but being busy. Its not about the money, its not about the fun at work. Its about a deep sense of satisfaction and a high level of conscientiousness that made the three of us friends.

I don't have that anymore, I thought. Then everything V said, and everything I was trying to tell S, hit me back. Like a rude slap. Like your head dunked into a bucket full of cold water. Its okay. I'm ready to sit around, potter around the house with books, a couple of movies, food, cooking and I don't know what else I will take up. Not like I don't want to do a job. But its slowly creeping in - the idea that I'm not defined by my financial independence or my need to be. Yes, I know I will see comments here that say, its all in the mind, and that it doesn't matter at all. But then, all of us run behind the same things. Yes, including you. You only. I don't blame you. My mom thinks she hasn't done much in her life. I don't know if I should be offended :) Or, if I should understand where that's coming from. For now. I'm going to contemplate, talk, read and soothe the neglected soul. And take AB along with me on this journey.

Take a deep breath. Give me some credit ;) for figuring this out after two years of innumerable chats with 6 wonderful people, a deep sense of connection with 3 other people without even keeping in touch, regularly.

This is to those people who are in the same boat with me, hanging on, without even meeting each other, but trusting each other not to stab the other :D. Here's to all the sepankizhangu/beans curry lunches, and never-ending coffees (:P) and boiled eggs. Keep the faith. This too shall pass.

W.H. Davies wrote this long back, I assume. I read this long back. When I was in school. And when I loved to read and recite poems. My mom taught me the right intonation. I always won the first prize. Little did I know that I'd keep that as an indicator of me. Little did I know that my mom taught me these poems for a reason. Like this one, which I found while cleaning my desk.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs,
And stare as long as sheep and cows:

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

P.S. - A lot of the what happened in 1983 has been edited by me.

Wedding blues.

She sat there fully decked in jewels and the grandest sari I'd ever seen. She looked like a temple goddess. Not just in terms of beauty or the weird bridal glow that every brides acquire just in time, but mostly because of the jewels on her body. There were those trademark white stoned necklaces, long chains with huge pendants, red stone jewellery, some diamonds thrown in, lots of glittering gold, something on her slender arms, a piece of belt-like jewellery(vodyaana) on the waist, rings connecting to the umpteen number of bangles glistening on her hands. The sari was grander than anything I'd seen. She is all of 22. Giggling along with her friends, still not eating her vegetables, my neighbour's daughter who was getting married looked very much like a kid that she is.

I've known them since we moved to this house. We live in a residential locality and the community is very close-knit. This particular neighbour moved in the same day as us. It was a sheer coincidence that both our and their homes were owned by siblings who sold it to each of us respectively. His kids were younger than me. We got along well. Uncle even become really friendly with Appa, through business connections. Trust was gained. They were friends for life.

Uncle was really happy that my India visit coincided with his only daughter's wedding. We were invited for the almost 5 day affair. While I personally stay away from weddings, this one was different. This was a girl I'd seen grow. And that's very rare :) considering how old/young I am! And my parents were expected to make an appearance everyday. I managed to skip most functions apart from the good food that is served. I went religiously between my online and offline trysts to eat good food and comment on how I don't miss 'American' food and how I cook Indian food. Memories about my marriage surfaced. I was one of the first girls in the neighbourhood to get married. All in good fun.

I did wonder about whether this girl wanted to do anything else apart from getting married. When I spoke to my mom, she spoke of how in their community, it was common. It was common for the girl to get married this early, for the girl to not be financially independent, to marry a fellow business partner's son, to marry men who handle their dad's businesses and are not necessarily highly educated. And how the garish display of wealth was the norm. Who was I to comment on how much wealth they had, anyway? My wedding was fairly well-done (too well-done in my opinion, but emotional blackmail always works for parents no?)

I was to go to the Muhurtham. According to my mom, it was going to be sight for sore eyes. She laughed and spoke of how one could figure out new fashion trends for blouses and saris and see all kinds of jewellery on show. I was curious. I've managed to skip weddings for precisely this reason. Such stuff is boring for me. However, I was extremely curious to see all the men dressed up. Apparently, they wore jewellery too. I just had to see this.

Mum was tying the blue sari - my first sari bought by parents for my engagement. I was okay with it. For all my 'i hate dressing up' attitude, this one promised to be fun. I wanted to wear the jhumka my mom gave me for my first visit home, the gold chain that my Pati gave me during my wedding, those new golden heels that I'd bought the day before. I wanted to wear a sari after 2 years of jeans. And I wanted to look pretty. As I stood there like a scarecrow waiting for the inevitable pin prick on my shoulder, Amma kept talking. "You complained so much about your wedding which was nothing compared to this. Now watch. You know, apart from all the jewellery and the saris (nearly 15-20 of them) and Mehendi at an expensive restaurant, they also gave the boy a site and a car. We haven't done anything of that sort."

I just stared at her. Site? Car? Really? She continued. "...they have also kept 40 lakhs in the girl's FD account." Suddenly my mom realized I was way too quiet. She said to me: " Ayyo, I shouldn't have said these things. Its all normal in their community, kanna. And its 'aasai' - who else will they do it for, if not their daughter?"

I didn't go for the wedding. Very uncharacteristically, I burst into tears. What could I do apart from skipping yet another wedding? And should I be ashamed that my parents went to the wedding? Their logic? "Uncle is a nice man. He's helped us a lot. He's always been there looking out for you kids and Pati...and its common. The guy is not going to do anything to the girl. Its all love."

So what is the definition of love today? Security deposit for your daughter?

Resolutions 2010

Okay, I'm here again with a list. I love lists. So, I make resolutions every year. I don't keep them or follow them. But then, that is another story! However, for once, this time around, I was way too busy during the Holiday season to even think of resolutions. Now that everyone's left home, including my sis (yay and boo hoo!), I found time to sit down and cry and scream and rave and rant about my life all over again. So exciting to get back into the depression groove.

Anyway, not to bore you further, this time around, my resolutions are real. I need to get these done to do anything in life. As usual, I've come to a point where things that werent' 'must do or need to do' have become that way! I 'need' to accomplish these things to live. Okay, that is a bit much, I accept.

Here you go!

1. Eat more consciously.

The idea is to eat locally, promote local farmers, local business. I've been thinking a lot about eating organic v/s locally. While I'm not a huge fan of eating organic for various reasons, I've understood the importance of eating locally for sure. I cannot afford to eat organic food all the time and it doesn't really matter to me. Coming from India, I'm guessing organic food isn't a big deal for me. Yet.

Another point worth noting is that I'm going to try eat consciously for the sake of my health as well. I'm going to eat less carbohydrates and more greens and vegetables. I did contemplate turning vegan, but I realized I can't live without thayirsaadam. So, vegetarian, I shall continue to be!

2. Grow plants

I don't have a green thumb. I've killed a bamboo plant and a cactus plant. So, this resolution is a sincere attempt at doing something with my non existant green thumb. I'm planning to grow some herbs, tomatoes and peppers. Another move to go local, growing my own food kinda idea. Let's see how far it goes.

3. Exercise 5 days a week

I really need to do this. Before the holiday season, I exercised everyday without fail, sometimes pushing myself. And surprisingly, I enjoyed it. So, I want to push myself further and exercise a lot more this year and make it a regular part of my life.

- Other ideas involve treks every weekend in the summer, swimming with AB (should have some fun too, right?) and maybe Yoga even.

The idea is to lose weight (duh!) I want to be 130 lbs by the end of Dec 2010. (which is another resolution, btw)

4. Join the local library and read at least 2 books a month.

I used to read so much that my parents used to stop me from going to the library. I used to read with a torch under the blankets all night. My dad has torn books to teach me a lesson. Now, sadly, I don't read at all. So, I've restarted reading a month or so back. I have a long list to go. And I'm going to join a book club, online or offline, make sure that library membership is well-used.

So, I'd really appreciate book recos!

5. Swimming

Read resolution 3

6. Maintain a diary/journal.

I used to write. And think a lot. I've stopped doing both. I want to start chronicling stuff so that when I see it 5 years down the line, I don't think : Oh I've always had fun, and now I'm not. Or, that I've always been unlucky! The diary should teach me that there are phases.

7. Revamp food blog and be regular on it.

I love our food blog and have to revamp it big time. I need help with coding and stuff that I can't figure out at all. Any help? :) Apart from that, I want to work on the design of the site, the writing and the pictures!

8. Cake decorating classes

Every time I bake a cake for a potluck or a friend's birthday, I find my cake decorating skills lacking. Okay, I have none. I make it look like modern art :D So, I want to start some classes to learn the fine art!

9. Learn HTML

For the sake of the food blog alone.

10. Volunteer

I volunteered every weekend when I didn't have time to breathe back in India. Now, I have all the time in the world and I'm left thinking only about myself. How selfish can I be? So, back to the old me - an attempt.

11. Photography classes

I really think my list making obsession took over when I wrote this down. I'm not sure I can afford this now, but I'm going to see if I can do something online!

12. Get completely healthy by the end of 2010.

This ties up with resolution 3. I can write a book on how to get unhealthy and sick in 2 years flat just because you don't have anything to do.

13. Berkeley's creative writing program

Okay, this is seriously a wishlist. I'm not even sure they offer it, but I'm going to figure this out.

14. Make a conscious effort to watch Sports.

For AB. I told you I wanted to make this list longer!

15. Get my license done!

I know. I know. I did have a license which has expired now, thanks to change in visa status. And I haven't gone back I'm still living, yes.

16. Learn a new language

I'm thinking Spanish or good ol' Japanese?

17. Learn Tamil

A really conscious attempt to get back to my roots. Ha! Okay, I want to learn to read and write Tamil and spend some quality time with AB away from sports :D

18. If no admit, rewrite GRE bravely.

I kept this for last because this seems like a must-do.

Like I said before, if I don't do at least half the things I've spoken of here, I might just go mad. I've lost it several times now and come back saying the same thing - that its only going to get better from down here. Coz I can't go lower than this. And I've been proved wrong consistently. Let's see what this year has in store for me

P.S. - I forgot to tell you that all these resolutions will start being followed only after March 15! Because I'm in India until then and no rules work in India :D