This Corner Of The World...

Nothing to lose and nothing to gain,
There is no love ,nor disdain.
There is no present , and there is no past ,
The moments are illusions and they hardly last....
A place to forgive , a place to forget,
A place to let go of every regret...
I let go of every thought and
Of every dream I have ever sought.
It’s a corner where I cease to think,
It’s an ocean in which I love to sink…
The numbness is angelic, the intoxication more so,
At this corner of the world my soul lay aglow.
I drop the veil, and I come alive.
At this corner of the world…the world itself futile!

With all due respect....

If it’s a holiday, I prefer waking up to a “good afternoon” rather than to a “good morning “and tune in to some non-sense on the television for at least an hour, lying there like a lazy lizard on the couch. Relieved to be placed early, this October, I came down to my (now Bangali :)) sister’s house at Bangalore. My plans to fully “utilize” my vacations were all set.

But the very next day of my visit – was the day of “Asthami” of the Durga Puja festival, and the house was abuzz since early morning with a lot of activity. My sis (who is a brave woman, I must say) woke me up at 7, asking me to get dressed up in a costume that looked 5 kgs and actually weighed half a kilo over my estimate. Everyone in the house was decked up in flashy attires and jewellery.

It was futile to argue, at this moment with my family, that such religious events do not appeal to me --and I just gave in to their wishes. As a symbol of my rebel, I put on my 3/4ths and oshos, looking more like a hippie-and set out for the pujas in the car with everyone else.

We started by visiting the pandhals at one of the most plush areas of Bangalore. I must say, the sight was impressive- fleets of flashy SUVs were lined up outside the pandhal looking for parking space. High security and cams all around made it look more like a high risk zone.

Women were decked up in sarees looking more western than Indian and flaunting chic jewellery with faces caked under layers of foundation. To me, it looked more of a fashion parade than a “puja”.

Everyone was in high spirits to have met their friends after a long time. Chats over business, gosspis over somebody’s daughter were on. There were groups all around, with aunties talking and showing-off their “High NetWorth” marriageable sons from IIMs – in search of the perfect ‘bahus”, teenage girls sharing their secrets and “out fashioning” each other, while the young guys obliquely trying to catch a glimpse of the pretty girls , in presence of their momma – dada--it looked like a good platform for unpaid matrimonial service.

The pandhal was beautifully made, with every colour possible finding a place there . In the middle of it all stood the master-piece of durga. It was a beautiful piece of art, with eyes so lively that it could speak. It wore a red saree with mirror-work which reflected the lights around and managed to shine like diamonds . Hats off to the artist who crafted the piece! To my surprise however -this place was not the centre of attraction. It lied somewhere else...

The more popular corner was a separate canopy- where the loudspeakers shouted “ Rock On “ songs and food stalls laid out the bangali delicacies. The entire place smelt of delicious luchi allu , illish bhaja and kosha mansho.The prices were 3 times higher than market rate but nobody seemed to have noticed that -as men are happy to have a break from their wives cuisines and women happy to get a break from their chores.

Suddenly something and Something Spanish or latino ( I don’t know what ) started. Amusing it may sound but -“Kingfisher” had organized “salsa” dance show over here!!! Men hooted as the troupe (esp. when the troupe girls did cha cha) danced to the Spanish tunes. Some of our family friends, I guess, even missed noticing the actual puja area, in all this exciting commotion…

It was quite funny to hear people confirming – if pujo bhog was served free , before proceeding to the next pandhal. The durga idol waited alone in a corner while everyone enjoyed the food spiced up even more with the gossips.

Banter all around, it looked like a page 3 set-up. The day ended …we saw atleast 7 pandhals that day. One thing took my notice was – those pujas were most popular where food stalls and EQ ( entertainment quotient ) was high. In others , where these things were missing- the durga idols stood solemnly waiting for its bhakts.

The last day – Dashami arrived , pople wished each other Shubho Bijoya with a heavy heart and I saw all the glam-babes shedding tears as the idol was brought down from pedestal for Bisarjan (sorry to use lot of “o” as bongs pronounce it ).

While this was happening I wondered – were the tears being shed for the durga? or for the farewell of the fun and frolic that had spiced up the days? Whatever it be- I will look forward to the party next year.

Where Have i Displaced my key ??

Nobody seems to be in a good mood – Be it Lehman or me ! ;). These days, my mornings start with the daunting newspaper and “(heart) BREAKING” news on the television.
Today was no different, after a “messy” mess breakfast – my soul was craving some “bad” news- Cant blame it , you see its now habituated ! So there I was in the TV room of my hostel…
“Bloodbath at the sensex, job cuts across global cos, political drama over the new “softer” POTA , and so on…”
The turbulence in market has a direct impact on our futures.As the placements season starts - the anxiety here on campus is both visible and natural. The brighter ones can’t stop talk about the correct “strategies” and RCAs of the global crisis (SHOW OFF) , while the not so “bright” ones like me wait in apprehension , keeping our fingers crossed.
As I was watching the news this morning, something else caught my eye. Through the vertical blinds of the French window next to the TV , I could see skinny , mud-spattered children ( of the construction workers) – playing in a mini puddle of greenish stagnant water .

My first reaction was off course – how filthy! But a second look and I saw something we all here on campus were missing – Happiness and contentment. Unaware of the world, and immersed in ignorance , they seemed to be carefree birds .Tanned skin , torn shirts , uncombed hair ..but all with a priceless smile , they made me a little envious .

I am on the verge of becoming an “MBA” and can make some dazzling presentations, talk in a party with finesse and do know all the right etiquettes with fork and knives .BUT….
As I came back to my room , I wondered why do we have to go through all the complexities in life to gain contentment , which could have been achieved otherwise, simply , in that puddle .

The Imbalanced Theory of Balancing!

There’s no better way to put me off, for a man or a woman both, than to display a male chauvinistic attitude.
I usually do not get into arguments with MCPs (M=male , C=chauvinist ,P=pig) –the reason being – If I do , I end up giving them a flavor of my feminist thoughts – and most often than not , it hasn’t worked wonders to alter their shallow psyche.
However, the world seems to be so overcrowded with these species, that the probability of encountering them is unfortunately quite high!
In one such recent encounter, a so- called friend commented over the dinner table that why taking up Human Resources as a career choice is such a good decision for me. I was flattered initially - as I thought he is referring to how my KSA s (knowledge, skills and abilities) are apt for this career path ,only to realize later that it wasn’t what he meant. His theory states that women must land up in jobs where they can be home by 6 and thus establish

“ balance” ( perceptual error that HR jobs are “wella”) .Another Mr. Know it all had a even more radical theory – that to have a good “quality of life” … the woman of the house shouldn’t be working at all !!!!!!
I will not waste even a word on the second loser here, though the “balance” theory is not bad. As a person I believe in all the “balancing “stuff.
But the question remains -Why is it so ,that the measure for balance is permanently skewed and hence screwed in our society? Isn’t the art of balancing life meant to be practiced by both sexes equally? And if it is not an equal responsibility – why call it “BALANCE” at all!!!
I have grown up in a household where my dad loves cooking ,he beautifully manages all the household errands and my mom is still working !(dad opted for a early retirement ). I adore my dad for all the delicacies he cooks and my mom for the way she handles finances and investments…It was always like that and I haven’t seen any personal disasters and have grown up to be a “normal” person, just for the records! May be that’s the reason that my mind is not conditioned to accept what most people adopt either out of circumstances or otherwise.
Coming back to the dinner table, as I mentioned I choose not to react to my dear MCPs. However many thoughts were provoked in my mind…
The next day our professor asked us to crack a case-study in the class .Ironically , about “women at workplace”. It was based on gender discrimination at certain organizations. The same set of people now talked about thinking “out-of –the –box” , breaking paradigms and cracked the case, quoting Indira Nooyi and Kiran Majumdar Shaw .The most striking phrase used was “ the time has come to break the glass-ceiling” . I couldn’t help but laugh and pity them and their future “balancing partners”.

A Healthy delusion

I can safely term myself as a “very” rational person…won all my arguments with life with logic and logic alone. Calculative….even “mechanical” as some friends call me.
But there are times when logic fails or we intentionally show it the door. Something similar happened to me lately. The last month wasn’t the best of the times. I believe someone up there planned to shower all the awful things on me at once. Nothing major though but the minor ones were enough to dismantle my life….
As I mentioned earlier -I am far from having any sorts of beliefs in words like “destiny”, and the sciences which forecast or determine them in any way. However , ironically I believe it was my "destiny" that I happened to meet a distant cousin of mine who is incidentally an expert in this numerology (or some astrology , I don’t remember) business.
Just for some free of charge entertainment I asked him to give me some gyaan on the subject …. He instead as a businessman would do….hit right on the nail!!! “As you must be experiencing, your stars are not in the best of their moods”! BINGO! I wanted more ..He went on…. It seemed as if the chap has read my personal diary and this was enough to let my logic and rationality go down the drain.
The option to survive was only one- actually two- expensive stones on my fingers. Each of them with specific weight, colour, clarity quotient..the list goes on.
I spent some few thousands and lots of time and energy searching for my precious life-savers as per the specifications laid down..and finally landed with awkward looking , big stones which effortlessly manage to spoil the look of my manicured, delicate fingers ..
But to tell you the truth …I guess they are doing their work just fine… .(Though I know it’s my figment of imagination which is working..but never mind!). My intellect reprimands me for being unreasonable and my mind wants to believe in this entire drama…I want to consider the latter as of now.

Mumbai Local

Statutory warning: The piece of writing may not inspire non-mumbaities!!!

Accepted my blogs are becoming too Mumbai-centric now, but the fact that I had just been to aammchi Mumbai should make you guys excuse me for a while. The city has an intoxicating air and an effect so strong that it will take me a while before I start writing about the other roller-coaster rides of my life.
It’s hard to imagine Mumbai without one thing- the local trains. Those who are from Mumbai will agree more on this than anyone else. On an average -a typical Mumbaite travels one hour (at least) everyday in the locals and believe me this monotonous journeys can rarely ever bore you. I remember the time when I used to catch the fast local from Dadar , every day after college around 1800 hrs .
This time when I went to Mumbai, I couldn’t help get the taste of the local train- trek again. Things haven’t changed much. The fast local ( the ladies compartment) is packed with a hodgepodge of women – some have just finished their work-shift at the call centre and occupying the standing area near the door with their expensive i-pods and are decked up for another party .Then there are the gold-laden women wearing blank expressions and with at least 4 kids each doing gymnastics around their bodies , (I think they are returning from some wedding- the only theme around which their lives is crafted) .
The office-going middle-aged ones are who sit down on the floor, cutting bhindi with their knives with the expertise of a chef and they are in a group chatting about their bosses/husbands/neighbours etc.. .you name it and they have an opinion to share! Then there is the juvenile gang of girls who seem to have just joined college, with an awkward sense of dressing as they are now at the experimentation stage after shedding their grey and boring school uniforms. The spark in their eyes while they talk about their new-founded “love of life” is worth a look. There is one more species, the ladies selling bhel-puri , and wada pav – I call them the plucky of all. Their business sense, selling skills and customer service is something to learn from.
The crowd is mind-boggling, and the cat-fights for the seats even more so. Wish I was an artist to capture each colour on to the canvas….but all I can do is write about it.:).
As many stories as the people…To experience the city of Mumbai… travel in its local trains - get a glimpse of the mélange of people here and their lives…and believe me you will never get bored …Its The city that never sleeps and you miss out a lot if you sleep a wink!!

Something Amiss @ Pop-tates

I have been born and brought up in the city of Mumbai.10 years of my school-life has certainly given me something to cherish- my gang of girls.
We five, come from different backgrounds, culture and value systems. I opine that it is this difference that makes us so special as a gang. Whenever I come back to my hometown, we make sure that we have a revelry at pop-tates .
Now – Pop tates is almost always a certain venue. The reason being its strategic location where all the girls can come after their work-shifts and more importantly – it’s a place where we can ask for our fav. Mojitos and cosmopolitans and be sure that any after-effects there of will not attract negative attention. So this time it was yet again “pop-tates”!
Our conversations are mostly as vibrant as we are…ranging from bitchy gossips to dawn of “new friendships” and extinction of “old friends”(u know what I mean, girls). Tête-à-tête about how we all think of marriage as a social trap with a dash of male bashing off course. However…the mood always has been light and refreshing.
This time however something was amiss. One of our girls arrived late, decked up in a ultra-traditional salwar kameez. This was not unusual. What followed definitely was! The shock::::of late, her parents had started the recruitment process ( pls note there s a difference between recruitment and selection here) for a prospective groom. She just had finished one of the interviews. The worst part: She is not even ready and doesn’t know what she wants in a life partner but has just given in to the entire drama. In her so-called interviews she is acting just as a “good girl” is supposed to act. (I mean the societal definition of good). To me her wickedness is her USP…and something I genuinely love.
Am very sure the poor guy is also equally unaware ! No excitement, no thrill. Its as simple as---A good family wanting a value-ridden girl who can take-care of things (yawn!). It seemed to me as a compromise for life…I could not speak much after that …nor show my happiness (as the suffocation had taken over).
The only thought in mind was….However modern we become, not many of us have the mettle to drive biggest decisions of life…and end up “just giving in”.
I wondered and ordered another mojito …and am still wondering.