Meri Christmas!

Christmas was unbelievable. An impromptu plan got ma, cousins, aunt and me to catch a movie at 10: 25 in the morn! Seriously!! What's worse is that we were all there on time. Whew, we were quite a sight, 5 women in CP catching a 10:25 a.m. show. We saw Oye Lucky and man was it fabulous or was it absolutely fabulous. Smashing screenplay, brilliant acting by Abhay Deol and a scathing take on Delhi and punjabis. Ooooff!! Mind blowing. I think I can definitely see it again. We all stumbled out a lil drunk on the movie and incredulous at our own ability to cross the seven seas for a good movie. The afternoon saw us shopping like...well..women in CP and off we trudged to aunt's house for lunch. Post lunch, all I could think of was the bed, the quilt, some sunlight on my face and a fabulous book I was reading calling "Three Cups of Tea". But my cousin had some other plans, I dont know where she got the enthusiasm from but she managed to convince us to step out for another round of shopping. We kids were lured into it with promises of funky jackets and sweaters, but once in the market, all we were made to do was shop for veggies. An hour and a half into this when I took a moment to sit back and I saw us 3 cousins carrying 5 packs of a kilo each of some vague green veggie (Blech), that's when it hit me that we were no more than extra pairs of hands to lug the stuff around while my aunt and mum laughed (ostensibly at some joke, but I saw them look at us, point and guffaw, all this while shaking their heads as if to say 'suckers')

Any how, after 2 hours of this torture, they finally decided to cut us some slack and we headed home for a nice session of tea accompanied with tonnes of plum cake, eateries from Wengers and tiramisu. Maybe it was the food or sheer exhaustion, but my cousin came up with what then seemed like quite a brainwave. Another movie, this time at 7:15 p.m. The only movie playing in the evening was Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, I really had no inclination to see it, but I wanted to go back to the hall just to see the look on my ma's face. She was aghast at the thought of 2 movies in a day. Ha ha ha ha ha. Quite a sight. So cousins and I sauntered across, bought tickets, came back, finished our tea (read stuffed our faces with everything on the table) and headed back to the movie hall, this time round dad accompanied us. 

The movie was HORRENDOUS!!!!!! It was the singular most horrible movie that I have ever seen and thanks to some friends, I have seen lots of horrid ones. The story was non existent, the acting was hamming, the music was barf inducing, the entire package just made me wonder if the film makers really think the audience is THAT stupid!!!!! Bleary eyed, we fell out over ourselves at 10:30 and made our way back home!!!!

Ma is still in a states of shock, I dont know if it was the fact that she saw 2 movies in a day or just the 2nd movie by itself. I think its the latter!! 

Hope all of you had fun. A very merry christmas to all of you and in case I dont see you again, a Happy New Year!!!

Craig David it is.

First Jovi now Craig David, its ridiculous how my life uncannily resembles these songs. So as of now,

"I'm walking away, from the troubles in my life;

I'm walking away"

Boy and I went about our separate ways a lil while ago. Both of us are moving on and with the proverbial 'deadline' looming large, are meeting new people in the good ol 'Indian Arranged Marriage' manner. We both seem to love the attention. So much so for taking tough calls. 

All I want is everything, am I asking too much?

I never thought I'd say this, but Bon Jovi suddenly makes sense. If and when that ever happens to you, that's when you know your life has hit rock bottom. 

So I am completely confused and totally clueless about what I want. I am great at taking decisions and can do so even under the most stressful conditions, but when it comes to taking decisions about my own life, I am as confused as a kid with the attention span of a gold fish, let loose in a candy store. I want to do everything, eat everything, go everywhere, drown myself completely in work one day in His arms the other and travel for the next six months with a false passport and under a false name. I want to do everything! Does this lack of commitment make me a guy? 

Seriously, I have huge issues with commitment, so much so that even though I could afford a car long long ago, it took me a year to find the courage in myself to commit that kinda money in one place. People who envy the ease with which I place orders for lunch for a table of 25 do not know that the reason I manage to decide to quickly is only coz I know that I will get to do this all over again in a while, if I dont like what I get now. But then what do I do when I am to decide who I want to spend the better part of my life with?????

I really wish I could have some expert, with a sort of warrantee card that tells me that THIS is the guy who's best for you and you'll be ecstatically happy with him and everything will work out just fine, you have my word! The problem is compounded by the fact that I still have the notions of marriage being a 'till death do us part' concept, which runs the risk of making a wrong decision loom larger than ever. 

AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!! HALP!!!!

The financial crisis and its effects on the common man.

Yawn!!! I can't believe the title to my own post. How could I come up with something like that? But I assure you, I aint writing from the perspective of an economist/ MBA/ financial advisor/ wealth manager or the billion other types of people who've already offered their two bits on this topic. What I have to say is something a lil more intimate.

Diwali, the Indian festival of lights (read partying, drinking, bingeing, gambling, making merry) is 6 days away. The festivities started about a month ago with the smaller festivals that lead up to this grand finale. India, especially north India like with everything else, tends to go a lil overboard with the celebrations. In the true flashy, opulent, ostentatious fashion local to north India, Diwali is also the time for people to indulge in some good old fashioned 'one upmanship' in terms of diwali presents for near and dear ones. The presents start flowing in a good fortnight before the actual festival and comparisons are inevitable. In true materialistic fashion, the fondness/ closeness/ intimacy/ depth of a relation is measured by the grandeur of his/ her present. A simple box of sweets to silverware to cell phones to the latest gizmo on the stands, diwali presents range far and wide. 

This year however, the celebrations are a lil muted.  

I was speaking with S over the phone and she remarked that maybe the recession is finally affecting the common man, coz this year, with 6 days to go, she's only received 4 diwali presents, one shoddier than the other. 

That's what got me thinking. 

Well, so much so for the long winded topic.

In other news, the north Indian winters are setting in. It is my favourite time of the year and I would've loved it this year too, if it weren't for this dratted cold. My sniffles, throat and fever are at their all time best and I am still trudging in to work. No my boss is not an ogre, in fact he  told me today to stay at home and then when I insisted on coming over and wrapping up work he pointed out that I am addicted to coming to work. Sheesh!!! I need to reanalyze my life. 

The Dilemma

I am currently surrounded by single women. No, this is not some guy's fantasy coming true. It's just the bare (pun unintended) truth. I am currently a single/ not so single/ confused person, but 97.35% of all my female friends, are surprise surprise...SINGLE! 

Now one would wonder what so many smart, funny, mostly attractive, well educated women are doing at this age in their lives when they should be married or at least on the anvil. Well, honestly, I wonder too. But then that's about all that we do. 

Being in our late 20's in north India doesn't do too much to bolster our single status. Its not like we're feminists who have sworn off marriage completely, but lets face it, we aren't married, we dont see ourselves married in the near future and frankly, I think we're scared out of our wits about the entire institution. 

Most of our discussions centre around the acute dearth of nice men in the world. Seriously, is it too much to ask for a genuine, nice guy? Nothing out of the ordinary, no Brad Pitt, no millionaire, no prose spouting intellectual freak, just a nice guy, with a pleasant disposition, basic manners, family, a decent education, presentable looks, warm, caring and hard working guy. Is that too much to ask for? Apparently it is. 

Our other issue being the decision about marriage. We dont have a problem with the institution. We dont advocate living in. But how in heavens name do you take the most important decision in your life? Seriously, all you married ones out there, do me a favour, drop me a line and let me know how you know for sure. Do you believe in soulmates? Are you convinced of The One for each one of us? How will we know if he is The One?

And if you give me crap like "gut feeling", "bells tinkling" "cows blinking", I'll hunt you down and shoot you. 

I've been imploring/ begging/ on my knees and wailing to Utopia to write me an exclusive post. One all about me and nothing else, (yes I am rather full of myself), but that was not to be. Now she's gone. So, its up to me to do the responsible thing, yet again, Sigh!! 

Just kidding.

Here's to you woman:

My first memory of Utopia is of her sitting in the stairs of my place waiting for one of roomie's to come back, since they'd planned to do lunch together. I didn't know her then, but since I was headed out to lunch I asked her to come along. That was the first of our many meals together. 

In the first few months of us knowing each other, Utopia seemed like a whirlwind of questions, emotions and expressions. She had a question about everything. Some rather inane and some really insightful ones (I don't know if she knows exactly how insightful some of those questions were). From the kind of loo in your house to your eating habits to philosophy, Utopia had to ask something about everything. To top it all, she had and sometimes still has this completely confused expression on her, quite like a HUGE question mark emblazoned on her forehead, which by the way is always drowned in furrows coz she frowns so much. 

Utopia eventually became my roomie and we stuck together for almost 4 whole years. Which is rather laudatory considering we had divergent views on everything, from the amount of light, to the kind of light, to mosquito repellents, to partying. But the few fundamentals that we agreed upon, that probably brought us together, were our love for reading, music, travelling, learning and eating. Since our other flatmates had lives way more happening than ours (read had boyfriends), it was just the two of us for each other. We'd eat together, head out and chill together, party together and occasionally go to college too. So much so that I had taken to announcing 'Honey I'm home' each time I came back from somewhere and she was home. 

Every now and then we'd have our tiffs about closing windows, (Utopia needing complete closure and me dying for fresh air), mosquito repellents (Utopia lighting 3 in one room and me gasping for breath), lights (Utopia loving yellow and me initially preferring white light, she managed to convert me later and we both had these fabulous paper lamps hanging over our beds) and so many other things. One afternoon, Motu Boy and I came back home from college and found Utopia precariously perched on the window sill trying to put black paper on the ventilator windows in order to block the sun. Motu Boy and I pried her deathlike vice off the window panes and calmed her down and promised to do it ourselves just as long as she promised there were going to be no more suicide attempts on her part. 

Utopia and I have so many memories. Most of them being really really really funny, all thanks to her and her antics and some not so nice ones, but we've seen each other through everything. I remember waking up on a sunday morn and reading and discussing the newspaper with Utopia while we sat on our beds, the way we'd enjoy our tea and toast while discussing the economy or some other major news. How we'd listen to the same radio station every single day coz it would be the only one playing english music, even though they obviously had only one cd which they played every single day, so much so that we knew the sequence of the songs. I remember Utopia interning in Delhi and falling in love with it and how I prophesied that she's be back. I remember us getting soaked every single day and how after a point of time we'd stopped caring and continued roaming in soaking wet clothes. I remember both us crying onto the shoulder of the other over some failed relationship. Us sitting around helplessly at the end of each month wondering about cheaper dining options in the city. Us fighting at the end of exam time coz we'd had just about enough of each other. Us complaining about the boys in our lives, all the time. The movies, the parties, the secret crushes which the other one would eventually figure out, the random acts of inexplicably insane behaviour, he drinking sessions, the books, the dreams, the ambitions.

Utopia you've always been there and whether you'd believe it or not, you've mostly made sense. Here's to us, the future, the cyclic paths our lives seem to follow, to travel, to studying and above all, to love.

Failure!

I wanted to write about the blasts! I wanted to try and understand what all of you out there feel about this, no not the enraged version, but a lil sober, well thought out, articulate version. I read SMM about her reservations against Muslims and am well aware of the general mindset that prevails in India and condescending statements about how all Muslims are not terrorists, but all terrorists are Muslims, etc etc. 

But I decided to examine the plight of a regular, non fundamentalist, educated Muslim. Here is someone who knows since the tender age of 5 that when she's travelling in public transport, she has to travel under a false name, more importantly, a Hindu name.  She's accused of being a Pakistani, which at the age of 3 is akin to being called anti national. She's often advised, suggested, threatened to go back to her country (Pakistan and not India, since it is assumed that Muslims ought to be in Pakistan and Hindus alone should be in India). 

She went to one of the premier schools in the capital, went on to one of the prominent law schools in the country and when she needed to rent a place to stay in Delhi, she couldn't find one. Well that is until she assumed another false, Hindu name. 

As a youngster like one of us, she too enjoys the occasional party, but she's learnt to hold her identity close to her and it takes a while for her to let her guard drop and tell you her religion. If she'd ever tried keeping track of the number of times she's heard the lines "Oh, you dont look Muslim." (Like what is a Mussalman supposed to look like?) or "Really, you drink wine, isn't that anti islam?" or "Hey, I have a lotta Muslim friends." (and that makes you secular because...?????), she'd have aged centuries in a year. 

She hates how even the most educated, 'liberal', 'open minded' individuals end up differentiating on the basis of religion and how Prez. Mush. is called a liberal Mussalman only coz he enjoys his whiskey. She is appalled at how years of friendship, relationships and love are forgotten with each successive blast. She wonders how only the Muslims stand out as terrorists and the LTTE, Naxalites, ULFA and billion other organizations who run parallel governments now, are conveniently ignored since they aren't Muslim. 

As an educated minority within her own community, she has long accepted that she needs to be the voice of reason, she needs to speak out for her people who cannot articulate their thoughts, their fears, their insecurities. Like the rest of her countrymen, she too hated fundamentalists, of all religions and she completely denounced any acts of terror, carried out in the name of Allah. But of late she knew she'd have to come to terms with the facts that she was fighting a losing battle. 

She'd fallen in love with someone, he loved her too. But he was Hindu and she was Muslim. He could see beyond that, but both of them knew that their families would not. They tried for a while, but it was just too painful. Eventually, like every other privilege, he too was snatched away from her, for being Muslim. 

She had tried long and hard to be one of the regular, educated, cosmopolitan youths, but each look of suspicion, each denial of her right, each deeper scrutiny of her actions, was worrying her and she was learning to find safety in numbers. She now understood why her ilk sought refuge in ghettoes, where they'd be amongst their own, without being looked at accusingly or suspiciously. She knew she'd never become a fundamentalist, but she couldn't live like this either. That's when she knew she'd have to run away.

She systematically liquidated her assets, closed all accounts, put in her papers at work, served her notice period, sold her car, had one final party at her place where her closest friends still genuinely enjoyed her company and boarded her flight to her freedom.

Her name appeared a week later in the list of dead, after they found her body from under the rubble.  She now knew there was no escaping it. She had tried to run to the other end of the world, but somehow had managed to board that very flight that now symbolizes the very basis of what she wanted to escape.