Dippy Blogs

Of Good Mornings and Nights

dippyblogs — Mon, 29 Aug 2016 12:05:18 GMT

I am slowly, finally becoming a morning person. (and a night person)

So I always said that I like being the night owl that I am. However, I have also harboured a secret desire to be the up early and begin my day before everyone else types. Of course, it was too difficult to do this by myself. I took the opportunity of early-arriving maids to do this, even jet lags! But it never happened. Not for long anyway. Late nights always won.
Today I am back in my old (college) level sleep habits. Meaning, I sleep less. Now, I wake early and sleep late and get up in the middle of the night.
They say Motherhood changes you. For me, the discernible change in daily routine is my willingness to wake up early. Up by 6.30am to play with her before leaving for office and then put her to bed as soon as possible (9.30pm). The time after that is MINE.

My Movie Playlist

dippyblogs — Fri, 26 Aug 2016 10:14:04 GMT

So, seeing an old post of mine, I played my music at Random and then assigned each successive song to the heading given.
I must say the songs are so apt. Especially the last one. To take it one step further I am adding notes on what the song is about in each line.

Share yours!

Waking up
Pear Jam - do the evolution
"Im ahead, Im a man"
(Grunge screaming to start the day)

First day at school
Linkin Park - burn it down
(yeah, just like Floyd did, right? right!)

Falling in love
Indian Ocean - Bhor
(mostly music, rather romantic if you see it that way)

Fight song
Hardwell & Showtek - How we do
(techno music - goes well with a kung fu kind of fight)

Breaking up
Atif Aslam - Pehli Nazar mein
(Rather contradictory - did you breakup cuz of another affair?)

Prom
Beethoven - 5th Symphony (first movement)
(Because high school students do the dramatic)

Life's OK
MIA - Paper Planes
(I fly like paper, get high like planes)

Mental breakdown
Coldplay- Everthings Not Lost
(indeed)

Driving
Coldplay - Yellow (live)
(I like this as a song to drive to)

Flashback
The Doors - Freedom Exists
(Baritone of Jim speaking)

Getting back together
Ronan Keating - When you say nothing at all
(it works, but on a sidenote I didnt even know I had this song)

Wedding
The Dewarists - Kya Khayaal Hai
(lets share our lives, kya khayal hai?)

Birth of child
Hey Dude - Kula Shaker

Final Battle
Tina Turner & Bryan Adams - Its only Love
(when your love has been shattered, and nothing else matters, its only love)

Death scene
For whom the Bells Toll - Metallica

Funeral song
Collective Soul - Run
(all these times can teach us...)

Credits
Theme Song - Super Mario
(need I say something here??)

Freewriting

dippyblogs — Thu, 25 Aug 2016 06:21:58 GMT

The last post I see, is from 2013. That is three years ago. It is a long time in the life of some, and very short in others.
For me, it went before I realised what was happening, yet it brought about a sea of changes. I have changed, my talk has changed, and so has my writing. In fact, I have not written in a long time and I have no one to blame, really.
Of course, if I want to, I can blame everyone and everything. I can blame my work (too much!), my travels to work (driving does not allow for writing), my married life (husband is more interesting than writing) and a myriad of other things (tired! busy!). But the fact remains that I prioritised a number of other activities over writing.
When I found the time, I cooked/ baked. I even painted. I would rather vegetate than write.

Why?

Because I felt I had lost my spark. I felt I had nothing more important to say. I felt that all I wrote was pretentious and could not bear to read a word. If I couldnt read my own prose, why would another?

I lie. None of the above were the reasons. The reason was simply - Life Happened.

Today I sit here typing and almost apologising to the one medium that has brought solace and joy. Yet I think it is normal. Sometimes a break is what is needed to feel wanted again.

Today after a long time I felt like writing, and I made it happen. I have opened LJ to write, but in most cases I have forgotten what I wanted to pen down even before the site opened.

Today life is so different from when I had opened an LJ account for the first time. So different from when I had hopes of making this a proper journal and wrote almost daily.

Life has changed, yet it remains the same in so many manners. My identity has evolved, increased, and as a person I have grown. Only for the better. All change, I think, is for the better.
Yet, in my mind I am the same person. I am me.
And that, I think is the essence of being. The knowledge of yourself. The comfort in being what you are. But thats me personally.

If I have the time, the scope and more proactiveness, perhaps I will write more here. At the moment this remains a loving place of lovely memories, and hopefully a place to store many more to come.

Time and Sporadic Posts

dippyblogs — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:45:30 GMT

Time flies, and you can do nothing about it.

Every moment the clock ticks forward, and till the time that scientists really do discover travel at the speed of sound, nothing can be done about it except to write, sing and talk of these facts.

Sometimes things happen so fast and so much in the flow of everyday actions that there is no time to savour them. You may have won an award, but where is the time to sit back and enjoy the award when you are inundated with work the very next moment? It is already in the past.

Some one new joins you for work and you have so many plans. And then it is time for that person to leave and you realise there is still so much to be done and nothing accomplished. Time has flown away faster than imagined.

It all comes down to passing a day at a time.
'Today is so busy, I will do this tomorrow.'

And like many authors have claimed, Tomorrow really never does come.
There are places to go, people to meet, people to call. And then there are priorities. You WANT to call X, but it is Important to call Y. You WANT to read a book, but all your body really wants is uninterrupted sleep, RIGHT NOW.

Snatching the most of the moment, we move ahead without a pause or a look behind.
The time when I could sit and write a blog post seems so long ago. The time between opening my browser and clicking on LJ site itself can be interrupted with so many colleagues, mails and phone calls that I have indeed forgotten why I have my datacard connected and why Im staring at an empty page. The same holds true at home.

Excuses. Sometimes excuses are true. And really, on my priority list, where does venting out what my mind churns in a good format really fall? Somewhere in the list after point 5 and Im still struggling at point 2. So, forgive me.

Or blame Twitter. The telegram of today that I can access while driving home. The limitation of 160 characters enabling me to quickly dash off an intermediate thought without having to resort to typing out words on my cumbersome touchscreen phone. Oh, give me a song, a steering wheel and 160 characters look heavenly.
So, just go ahead and blame twitter.

So while I try and find time to finally go to the hair appointment I have now rescheduled for over a month, and ensure that my office work and incessantly beeping blackberry are satisfied, and I have enough time to have a logical conversation with my better half, I will continue to find the time to squeeze in an irrational blog post like this one. if not only for the sake of keeping this site alive, but also to keep up my tradition of writing long winding posts about nothing.

After all, nothing makes one feel better than to be able to write without a care of who reads it, how it is reviewed and still be able to let the mind free. And that it why i will prefer a no-audience blog. It doesnt need editing.

The Age of War & Job Decription

dippyblogs — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 11:32:10 GMT

The world moves in mysterious ways. We humans can never be accused of making lives simple for ourselves. It is contradictory to our very being, our essence.

The world seems filled with anguish, dispair, corruption and war.

Where does one look for solace? For every happy news story read, there are two sad ones waiting to be read. A murder case here, a psycopathic leader there. A story on abuse and another on money pilfering on scales unimaginable.

Thousands of crores of Rupees mean nothing anymore. Nothing is too much, even when it cant possibly be spent. Replace Rupees with people, and the statement above stands true for some of the world leaders. Murders here and there, all in the name of war, uprising, a better government. Friends and family turning against each other. Atrocities that a healthy human mind cant even imagine. It is all in the name of intangible mind-bending beliefs, faith and or religion, or even money.

If the era of Man were to be truly divided into "Yug", and this be the Kalyug, we are definitely in the worst of it all. It also leads me to wonder about the truth of a Satyug. Man does not seem to be the type of animal who will be happy or satisfied with things for too long.

There was a training program I attended, where I heard one very insightful sentence - Everyone tries to perform to their best abilities. No one turns up at work to underperform.

And you know what? Its true. Your worst performer is still a person who wants to do well - he is just unable to, because of lack of expertise.
The thief also sets out to do the task to the best of his abilities. As does the corrupt police officer, the corrupt leader, the despot and the beggar on the street corner.

Its just an unbelievable expanse of 'job description' that we cover.

I Saw Guns N Roses Live! Yes, Im excited.

dippyblogs — Mon, 10 Dec 2012 09:29:21 GMT

There are some things in life that your dont expect to happen. Like getting a great job and boss and pay - all at once. Like listening to music, watching their videos, seeing stage antics for years and years and years. And then imagining the frenzy of it all in Los Angeles or in New York. Then knowing that that band had broken up. That they in fact went to China, but not closer home. That deciding that music videos would be the only source.
And then. One day you hear they will be in your country. In your city. On a day when you too, will be in the city. I did not expect Guns N Roses to ever perform for me, in India. I heard them in college, in school, at work. I saw them on TV, read about them in news. Heard about t heir breakup. But the possibility that I might see them in all their splendour, in life, in person - that was not imagined. Its what happens to 'other people' those that stay in the US and Europe, who get to see them perform live.
But, they did it for us, for me. I paid the fee, I prepared the evening. I spent 4pm to 11pm on the grounds watching. Three hours of uninterrupted Axl Rose and his crew. For it is his crew now. Slash is long gone. He too is coming in Feb. But I dont think I will want to go and watch Slash. It is to listen to Patience, Estranged, Welcome to the Jungle...that I would pay. Not to listen to their riffs alone. I leave that to the Slash fanboys.
And oh! what an evening it was yesterday. The best sight was the variety of ages trooping in. Teenagers to middle aged men and women. Top hatted to salwar kameez wearing. There was no norm. No discrimination. It was Rock music. And they were there to listen to one of Rock Music's most iconic.
The show was everything promised. And more.
Axl sang - and he sang so well that I at one time (shame on me!) thought he was lip syncing. Not a note away from the original recordings. Yes he has aged. Yes, he is not a lithe young man anymore. But the attitude is there. As is the snake dance. The running on the stage and the enjoyment. The ability to enjoy your own music, as you sing it for the Nth time for a crowd...that cannot be faked. The wide grins as they loved what they were doing made up for the years when they werent here.
32 songs. 32 musicals, including a rendition of November Rain on a special shiny Baldwin by Axl himself. Interrupted by him to take a swig of water and aspirin - he apologised 'to perform better for you' - and resume with a practiced smooth flourish and full energy the last unmistakable notes of November Rain. Oh, nothing could compare.

Watching Axl run up and down the stage, full of energy, singing high notes and low whispers - I still wonder if any younger band of today could do it. Could build up that energy in a crowd of 30,000 for 3 continuous hours. Axl and team spiced up every song with a tempo change, a clothes change and a style change.

The new lineup is well, new. But not for more than a moment did I miss Slash. YEs, he was the initiator, but there is talent a plenty today. DJ Ashby and Roger were spectacular. Ron was in a league of his own. And since I have a soft spot for Spanish Guitar...the intro before they started on Patience - was priceless!

I am delighted I went. It may have been a tick off my bucket list. But its an unparalleled experience, recommended to anyone who loves a good concert, and of course, GnR.

Of Kolkata, Vacations, Bengali and Mothertongues

dippyblogs — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 12:12:14 GMT

I am back from being home for a short holiday. A glorious one where I attended Pujo, and went to Sikkim. Then why doesnt it feel like one?
Maybe its because of the terrible cold Ive caught, or maybe its because of the hectic activity filled days. Maybe its the pressure to still show the best of Calcutta to N and make him love it. Maybe its all combined.
I wish I could stay a few more days there, I wish it was Saturday tomorrow.
Im missing the filtered sun, and the cool tinged winter breeze. The sunlight on my face as I wake up in the bedroom of my childhood. The home made food made by Mom. The sound of Bengali everywhere.

I have realised through living in Bombay, the interchangeabe ironies of using some Bengali words here and there. Mostly inspired through over dramatic films like Devdas (the SRK-AR one), people here tend to overuse and misuse some words often, especially the moment they hear I am a Bengali.
To touch back upon the warmth of Kolkata, and to introduce you to the correct usage of some common terms, here is the meat of the post:
1. Chee chee! : This is similar to the Hindi term, and signifies distaste. As in, "Chee Chee, the floor is so dirty!", or, 'Chee Chee, still not done your homework?'
2. Uribaba! or Orebaba : This is a term to be used less frequently. A term used to show pleasant surprise, this is a very rarely used word. As in, "Uribaba, how big you have grown in the past 5 years!" or, "orebaba, thats a lot of gifts!"
3. Oreb-baba! : This is different from Uribaba. The stress here is on the "b" in the middle. This is simple astonishment. More frequently used than uribaba, and more pally. This word signifies anything larger than life. Well, almost. "Orebbaba - what a goal that was!" or "Orebbaba, that is a huge sweet, I simply cant eat it!"
4. E-baba! : This is calamity. No joy in this word, its sadness personified. Speak it out in an astonished baritone, stress on the initial "e" and final "a". Mostly, it is followed by the phrase 'ebar ki hobe", meaning 'now what'. The extent of calamity can be understood by the stress on the ebaba, and the more the baritone, and slower it is, the more sad it is. As in, "Ebaba! You missed the train?! Ebar ki hobe?" it can also be used for simple things like dropping tea - Ebaba, the tea spilled over my clothes.
5. Eeesh! : Yes, we've finally reached that famous word. For correct pronunciation, please refer to Utpal Dutta in Golmal, and not to Aishwarya Rai in Devdas. The word has to be said with your personality in it and differs person to person. Its a term of irritation. The importance is to strech out the 'eee' and almost forget the "sh" in the end. This is lighter than ebaba, and is used more often for scolding a child, or a minor misdemeanor, or when something doesnt go as per plan, but there is no doom or gloom. As in, "eesh, kya kar rahe ho?" or, 'Eesh, I stepped on dirt!'

Now for some phrases:
1. Eta Ki? : No, this does not mean 'this is a key'. (Har har hardy har!). This very simply means, "What is this?"
2. Ki Holo? : What happened? (key hole-o)
3. Ki Korchho? : What are you doing?
4. Ki hobe? : What will happen?
5. Kemon Achho? : Now, for the most used Bengali and most abused by non-Bengalis phrase - this is pronounced as kay-mon achho, and not achhi. It means, how are you. And the 'you' aspect is signified by the final "o". This is the most replaceable and oft used phrase, which can be a hello, a smile, a cheer, and a genuine question to health. Its a good conversation starter, but only if you can respond in "Bhalo!"

This list making has definitely made me feel better. I hope its added to your repertoire as well.
And to round things off, another word which you will even hear newsreaders use once in a while - Byapok.
It means - awesome. And its used for "a lot" as well. As in, New York saw Byapok amount of rain over the last two days thanks to Hurricane Sandy.
And of course,
Its been Byapok writing this post!

Holiday

dippyblogs — Wed, 13 Jun 2012 18:06:12 GMT

Today is a holiday.
Not literally. Just in my mind. The morning decided itself for me, that today will be the kind of day that I will spend gazing at the cornflour blue sky dotted with heavy, laden clouds. Clouds that look grey underneath and shine silver on the top with reflected sunlight. And eagles as they leisurely catch on to the multitude of currents, circling away, in droves, making entertaining dots against those massive clouds.
The thought itself makes the day a reason to celebrate. To wear new shoes, and less-worn earrings. Of looking at ways by which to fill the time at work, except for work.
But its not to be, almost. The multitude of meetings yesterday have made my colleagues curious. What is it that we have been discussing behind closed doors? And then another comes up - why dont we initiate a new proposal regarding X? Afterall, only the sales team works. No one else does snything.
And I smile back patiently, and then not-so patiently. The top management are no fools. A suggestion from a worker drone only looks at one aspect. What about the other dimension of everything?
Then I look out at the rolling hills outside. Mumbai landscape can be quite inspiring, were it not the teeming masses of humanity and their filth all over. There are small hills, cliffs and the sea. It could still have been a beautiful city. But then we have the humans. And the buildings, and the filth everywhere. Makes it difficut to see past any of it to the pretty green hills and the waves on the sea.
I forgive my colleague. He only verbalises his thoughts. At least he has thoughts after having lived all his life in the filth, never having noticed the hills. The same hills that have been part of his life every single day since he was born. How then, could he see the larger picture at work?
I gently tease him away, towards other discussions, to other people. I ask the other one a question in the hope of keeping him busy for some time. It works.
I am alone again. With my laptop and my thoughts. I will relax, I think. And then I check mail.
Work is work only when it is imposed. It is labour when you think of it that way. The option to work is delicious. No particular deadline. No boss in office. Another round of closed door meetings keeps them busy today. And will keep me busy tomorrow.
I make my document. I feel even more liberated with music playing in my ear.
In time, I will open websites and read up on unnecessary information. With the Internet there is no dearth. With the time I have today, there is no haste.

Catch-up

dippyblogs — Thu, 07 Jun 2012 05:50:12 GMT

This year seems to have flown past at an extra-high speed. Which still doesn't mean that some months never ended...it still feels like May to me.
A new job, and a still-new family life have taken their toll on my time, and blogging is just one of the many things that have become minimal. And yet other parts of my life are as fulfilling as can be desired, if not more. It has been a shuffle of activities, with some taking higher weightage than others...as compared to before. And Twitter has won over LJ in this time-committed lifestyle. Not that I am complaining, everything has its own place and pace. And LJ will never really die for me, its a faithful friend waiting for when I will come back to it, waiting for the once-in-a-while steaming cup of coffee, cake and conversation.
The thought of a nice cup of coffee right now feels just about right. Perhaps with a book and an open window. Though I dont have one of either right now, I still have LJ. Then again, it is one of those days that look better through the closed glass of a window when the aircon is on inside.
Summers have come and are almost gone. Yesterday was a sneak peak into what the monsoons can hold for us here in the city. But it was just too transient. Of course, the thought of monsoons and driving conjure up painful thoughts of endless traffic on my 18km one-way commute. Thoughts of taking more than two hours to reach home in the evening. Of reaching after 8pm, only to finish off the day with dinner and a quick chat. No time to waste. But then monsoons are the only time the city feels fine. Better than some hill stations, like the once I visited only a week ago. A week ago seems so long ago. Even last Sunday seems so long ago - come and gone so fast.
Last week has been quite an eventful one. My mom visited after eons, her first visit since my marriage, and it has been fun. Today she comes back from her two day stay in Deolali with B&Maddy. I get another couple of nights with her till she goes back to Calcutta, and till Durga Puja, when N and I plan to visit the city. We hope.
But I want a holiday now. A proper holiday at home. Not a vacation. Just a day off. A day when I can wake up at a time I want, not take a bath till I want, and sit down by the window-light, reading a book, with a nice hot cup of home-made cappuccino next to me. The aircon can stay on, and N can be by my side with his comforting presence. And some soothing music.
The concept of work from home doesn't exist in this company. They have no idea how much they are missing out on. I wish I could explain it to them. I therefore wait for monsoons to bring on their onslaught. And Mumbai to be unable to host them, as always. Clogged rain roads and impossibility of coming to office sound sweet to me.
But then work nags, and I need to return from staring out of the window at the cloudy skies to me laptop screen and some spreadsheets. I can look ahead towards the soon-coming weekend, and materialise my dream.

The Elevator

dippyblogs — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 09:26:49 GMT

The strong steel doors closed with a satisfactory ‘ping’ in front of her face. Sheetal had managed to enter the elevator in the last moment, even as she saw Rahul waving to hold it from a distance. Before she could react, the man on the right had hit the close button, and now they were on their onward journey. She looked at the man with mock irritation. He was tall, well built and dressed in a suit. ‘Oops’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders and a slight smile. He had a strong jaw and a nice smile. Sheetal forgave him. She smiled back.

As is the norm, she then proceeded to ignore the rest of the packed lift and began to fumble for her phone. Twenty floors was a long way to go. It had been a hectic morning and the work schedule for the day seemed cruel. She had worn her new red top and black heels to combat Monday morning blues. Now she didn’t even have Rahul for company in the lift.

As she looked down to her phone and the empty gmail inbox, she could not help but peep into the glowing LCD on her neighbour’s screen - ‘you look hot’. She just had to look up. The man was very obviously chatting to that girl next to him, all demure in a salwar suit, replete with sindur. The girl giggled and gave him a slight punch, oblivious to the remaining 7 rather interested individuals. The lift pinged 3, and the couple walked out.

‘Ah! Interesting anecdote to tell Rahul’

Getting some more room, Sheetal swept her eyes around the lift, checking out its inhabitants. She found herself staring at a near-teenage boy with headphones plugged in. She could almost hear the noise emanating from them as he stared dazedly at the lit up display. He couldn’t possibly be working! She thought. He looked way too young. Probably an intern, she concluded.

‘Good morning!’ Ah! Her white haired ex-colleague. ‘Morning! How was traffic?’ she added. ‘Usual...usual’ He replied and smiled while nodding his head slightly. He was at a loss to say anything more and she hurriedly looked back at her blank screen.

‘Se-venth floor. Ping!’

The headphone-boy stepped out. Sheetal gratefully moved into the empty space next to the lift wall left by him. She now felt secure with the lift behind her, and people in front of her. A couple of noisy men walked in, hitching up their pants.

‘Haan, and then he walked out of the meeting!’ to which both of them laughed loudly, shook their heads, and chuckled. They were identically pot-bellied, in white shirts, engrossed in their conversation of office politics. One seemed to be the boss – the other was laughing too loudly at the joke.

‘Ping!’

‘Accha, you co-ordinate with Suman and send me...’ they got off on the next floor, talking, busy with each other, deep into the fresh Monday morning. She found them obnoxious.

Sheetal followed them out with her eyes. She noticed the tall man near the buttons looking at her. Immediately she looked away. Had she met him earlier? Was he a business acquaintance? She couldn’t decide. She let her eyes continue moving right.

She noted the familiar face next to his. ‘Hi’ they both said. She had no idea who he was, but they almost always caught the same lift every morning. He went to a floor above hers. They were lift-buddies.

A chiffon dupatta grazed her arm. ‘Ugh!’ she pushed it aside. She hated the feel of someone unknown’s clothes on her, especially chiffon dupattas. The lady on her right looked at her, smiled perfunctorily, said ‘Sori’ and went back to her important gossip to the lady next to her. The other lady was matronly, in a skirt with untucked shirt, curly hair, and dark, red lipsticked lips. She was nodding understandingly. It seemed the matter was very important. Their voices were hushed and their hands were moving fast. Sheetal eavesdropped.

‘Arrey, Mr. Mehta was called to the cabin, but he looked horrible when he came out...’

‘I am telling you, no, there is something about salary cuts in the office’

‘Twel-vth Floor. Ping!’

‘You never know now. It might be his...’ The two rushed out, still talking, clutching their jute lunch bags and bulging handbags. Sheetal mused about the poor Mr. Mehta and wondered about a salary or worse, a job cut.

‘Thirteen-th Floor! Ping!’ Apologetically nudging past, her white haired colleague went ahead. ‘Bye’ he smiled and shuffled out. ‘Bye’ she replied belatedly, smiling back.

‘Your friend?’ She heard a deep baritone voice say – it was the man next to the lift buttons.

Sheetal politely smiled and nodded slightly. Was he in her office? Not knowing she concentrated on distraction. She clicked some buttons on her phone. No one was online on chat. Darn.

‘Traffic is horrible today’ that awesome voice wanted to continue the conversation

‘Hmm.’ She acted busy. Why didn’t anyone call her? She opened her calendar application in desperation – did she have a meeting lined up? Was he a client?

‘Are you, by any chance, Sheetal Mehra?’

‘Oh shit! He is a client!’ Alarmed, she looked up at him. ‘Yes, yes’ she replied stupidly with a hesitant smile.

‘I read the name tag on your laptop bag’ and he gave her the most dazzling smile she had ever seen.

‘Oh’ He was hitting on her. He was not a client. He was good looking. This is her office lift.

‘Twenty-th floor. Ping!’

Sheetal slowly started walking out of the lift. ‘I’m Sunil. Will you be free for coffee sometime?’ He handed her his card, as he held the door open. Her lift-buddy was smiling. ‘You can call me. Or mail me.’ He pointed to his number on the card. The lift-buddy was grinning now.

‘Um...‘ She turned the card in her hand and walked out of the lift, savouring the situation. She was conscious of his height as she passed him, even with her heels. She turned back. And looked at his smile. That clinched it. ‘I’ll call you.’ She turned on her heel and walked into the crisp, new, delightful Monday morning, dreaming of cappuccinos.

Our new house-guest

dippyblogs — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 06:24:40 GMT

So a cousin has come to stay with us for a fortnight. He is, what I ruthlessly informed N, exactly half N's age. That makes him a teenager. A true blue young teen boy of the year 2012. A true blue young teen boy of the year 2012 with a blackberry, an ex-girlfreind, a will-soon-be-girlfreind (two different young ladies, please), a passion for football (soccer, as some call it), an unhealthy passion for facebook and his curly, over-long hair.

Our household, as of date, consists, on a regular basis, of four adults and an adult turtle. All of us have been teenagers at some point in our lives, but either that is a far distant memory or at least a respectably distant memory. Our average age is 44.5yrs, and we are all very safely far away from even the age 25, OK, even the age 28. The poor turtle Goofy, is probably younger, but as far as we understand, he is old too. He understands when we talk to him. He likes his peace and quiet. He likes his habits.
Basically, in our house, a teen boy is a new phenomenon. You see, N is an only child, just like me. His family has been a nuclear family, clear from pestering cousins around the year except during summer holidays, just like mine. We have both seen ourselves grow up, and not anyone younger - except from a distance.
Perhaps I have a little better immediate experience of modern day teenagers because of my sister and the girls who are now my sister-in-laws. THat only helps me in the 'modern-day' sentiment type. My mother in law, on the other hand has had parenting exposure to a teen boy - but without the modern angle.
It is a very interesting mix. For us, I mean. As far as the boy is concerned, well, he has his world on BBM, including music, a nice cozy bed where he can plonk on for 18-20 hours when needed and food. The 5 moments of nothing to do but sit with four adults is a little excrutiating to him, but I think he can live with it.
To us, however, he is a very interesting creature. (italics are his responses)
'How much does he eat? Shall we ask the cook to make 2 rotis or 8?'
'He is STILL sleeping??'
'What will we occupy him with when he wakes up?'
'Uh, do you mind if I work out and then sleep some more?'
'He has not spoken since morning. Is he upset about something?' 'No, he is smiling on his BB'
'Will he really eat a WHOLE pizza?'
'How will we entertain him this evening?' 'Dont worry either he will sleep or chat on phone'
'Popcorn? Pepsi?' 'No, Ill wait for protein at lunch'
'Sunday is family time! I will be with you' 'Oh great, what shall we do?' 'Um, I plan to sleep, of its ok?' *Proceeds to sleep all day*
'Shall we wake you for lunch?' 'Yes please. Breakfast was good. *Burp* Definitely please'*snore*
'Hi A, so what is your plan for today?' *silence* "A, whats your plan' *Silence* 'A? You there? Are you home today?' *looks up slowly* 'Hmm?' *looks down again* *Exchange of glances between adults* 'Yay!! My ex-girlfreind is probably coming to town! I will probably be meeting her in four days! cool' *goes off to sleep*

And so on. The only thing that sparked his interest for 2 mins - To me: 'you've really heard Dub Step?" me: 'yes' Him: 'cool!' *proceeds to play the same tune on loop in car for next 20 mins, unheeding to - 'next song pls' from us.

Of course, I have grown up seing my cousin brothers eating 20 parathas for lunch, each, and then some snack (past). And my sister not looking up from her BB when I visit Calcutta (present) and looking equally dazed. It prepares me a little. But I have never hosted a teenager and planned on the cooking of those 20 parathas.
As for my Mom in law? Well, my husband was a very poor eater when young, someone eating more than 3 rotis and staying reed thin can stun her, and she has never met anyone with a dedicated relationship with their phones. He counfounds her. She is therefore, constantly worried about what he will do in his 'spare time'.
Typical conveersation - 'You are very quiet'. Yes. 'Kuchh hua kya beta?' No-no! 'Are you this quiet with your frnds?' Hmm? No. 'Then why are you qiet with us' *silence* 'Kya hua? Getting bored?' Hmm? oh, my tutor is on BBM ill just respond and then talk, OK? *she sits there tense, she is on tenterhooks. I chip in - 'I think he has nothing really to discuss with us.' He suddenly wakes up, gives a big grin - Yes! Exactly. Goes back to BB. My mother in law, is plunged in confusion and doom.
My husband finds him entertaining. His thin structure, his steel-hard abs, his ability and freedom to sleep, his girlfrnds. Of course, when he doesnt talk back, he starts by being supportive, humorous, and ends up being bugged. ('Oy! Look at me while Im talking' - while explaining card Monopoly's nuances). This non-response stops when there is 'girl gyaan' being given though.
My father in law wonders about very few things in life. An addition to that list now is, how can he not follow cricket? Why doesnt he talk? Does he do as many adventures as my dad in law did, when he was the same age? Afterall, all Delhi-iites should be the same no matter the era, right? Right. So go bang up a few cars, wont he? This earns him dagger looks from his loving wife.

This gives us a lot to talk about on a daily basis.
And that leaves A with his favorite response - 'huh? Sure.'

To 2012!

dippyblogs — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 04:46:47 GMT

There is a propensity of every blog writer to do an obligatory new year or end of year post. I am not too different from the rest of the human race, though I have been procrastinating for some time now.

2011 was a landmark year for me in more ways than one. And not only was it the year that began with my marriage, it was also so for some of my other family members, and thus an activity filled year. It was a year of many firsts.

2012 promises to keep up the blazing trail. I begin this year with a new job. Almost at the same time as last year when I was preparing for my wedding vows, I am now preparing to bid adieu to one workplace, and lifestyle and start another. Gone will be the days of traveling to the same office as my husband and returning together. Of seeing him during lunchtime or at the pantry. But, as I have seen in past, eventually things do happen for the better, and I look forward to the new company, work and everything else that comes along with it.

2011 was a year where unwittingly and unexpectedly I traveled a lot. Within the country and outside. Whether it be the honeymoon, work related, or just vacations. Travel we did. Almost every month.

While I can’t promise myself anything for the coming year, I do think travel might remain an important element, and I hope it does. At the same time I hope it doesn’t. Somehow, the element of travel has lost its charm when done alone. And this in itself, though surprising, is a decision maker in many trips. Kuala Lumpur could be extended by a weekend. But why should I, when I can be home? Dubai could be longer – but wouldn’t home be better? A day more in Calcutta could have been extracted, but I preferred to be back, even a day early. And so I have left the thought of travel or none aside. As either way will suit my fancy, it seems.

I do hope there are some things that we will gain control over this year. I do hope some things carry over from last year.
I really do not know how this year will turn out. I do know that these date changes are man-made and actually, life goes on as usual. That these changes and divides are our mental fancies, and left to nature, things remain just the same, changing as we change them. To a person who has no New Year Celebrations, 2nd January is just the same as 2nd December, just like 2nd July is probably like any other date in the calendar.

But then, it is the human mind that makes change happen, because of our set boundaries and our WIll. And then a celebration of an ‘end’ and a 'new beginning' can always mentally prepare us for things new and old, but definitely better and brighter. Yes, actual change can happen over time, but we can prepare ourselves for it, brace and say – I will change this from Today.

And so in 2012 after I-don’t-know-how-many-years I have kept a few resolutions. Just a few, a total of maybe three or four. But I hope I see them happen.

Time has flown, as always, and it will fly past again. But there is still time at this moment.

And so I usher in the new year, just four days old now, with lots of hope and aspirations. And I hope you do the same. Wish you a very, very happy twenty twelve.

Today, Winter Begins

dippyblogs — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 09:20:36 GMT

I awake from a dream rife of pottery and competition and large, beautiful cars. And I look at the dull sky above and stare at the clock in dismay. It is already late. Before the day has begun for me.
As I rush through the morning rituals, I try and bring in a ray of sunshine through the initial thoughts of dismay, delay and an important pending decision. I remember it is 28th. Our 10-month anniversary. It makes the day a little better as we wish each other with childish delight over this token milestone. One of the many that makes our lives a little more special to us.
As if the thought of 10 months is not enough, I dig through my cupboard and take out a kurta I had hardly ever worn. I want to wear ethnic today. I need to sport my shiny new toe-rings, gifted on Karva Chauth by my mom-in-law. I have not worn them yet. Have not had the occasion or chance to.
I feel special wearing the shiny silver rings on my toes, with light blue and pink petals made on them and shiny stones in-set. They look very traditional, and to me, special. I show them off at home and they receive due recognition and acclaim.
We step out into the car and look out. Above the cars, traffic and the tangle of cables, the sky looks divine. What was dull in the morning is now layers of puffy white clouds, stretched thin one over the other with sunlight streaming through, making them look golden and awe-inspiring. And a blue, blue sky behind them. I could stare at them forever.
It is end-of-November, yet warm enough to have the car a/c on full. There is a slight breeze if we roll down windows though, which carries with it a chill factor to make you comfortable. It is the kind of day I would love to spend walking outdoors. Or indoors, with windows open, reading a book.
Office. And colleagues comment on the electric blue nailpolish on my toes, quite disregarding my new toe-rings. N comforts me - the toe rings make your feet emphasised, but the nailpolish is too bright and colourful for anyone to notice much else. I agree with him as we walk back from lunch. The light blue polish on my hands does not go unnoticed either, I add.
The talk meanders and we lapse into silence, comfortable together, as we stare ahead, and sometimes, into the layers of clouds. The promise of an evening together and perhaps a slice of cake to remember the day by, makes us smile. Its nice to walk around today, N says. The weather is nice. We enjoy the beginning of the last week of November.
The slanting sunlight feels good after a light meal. We agree, it is the start of winters in Bombay. The winter sun, if not the winter chill, then. And we smile. Today, is another good day.

On Starting my Fourth Decade of Life

dippyblogs — Thu, 04 Aug 2011 11:03:32 GMT

I turned thirty. I did not really notice when I turned 20, I kind of noticed when I turned 25, and now, when I can say I am 30, it is with definite knowledge that the decade of being a 20-something is now firmly behind me. I dont regret it. I had fun.

My decade of 20's has been a rollercoaster ride. It started with ending college and joining a B-school and ended with marriage. Quite well framed, if I say so.
When I turned 20, I was in Calcutta, studying at Presidency College. I appeared for my B-school selection exams, and gave my college finals. Then, while I was still 20 I joined my B-school, said goodbye to my parents, moved into the hostel, and I turned 21.
I cannot forget my B-school days. But neither can I forget my years after that.

This has perhaps been one of the most eventful decades of my extremely eventful life. In the last 10 years I have lived in 4 cities. I have been a college student, a business school student, a junior manager and have risen up the ranks, and have changed from being a spinster to a married person (just in time to be 30). I have evolved from living in a hostel, to living in a working womans hostel, to living with friends, to living alone, and now living with a family. Strange, how in a way I moved from living with family in 20, to again living with family when I am 30, and yet in such different ways!

I have experimented a lot! Personally and professionally. I have been footloose and fancy free for most of the times, with responsibilities limited to my parents, who lived in another city. My time was my own, my money my own. Within this time I packed in extensive travel, including a Euro trip with a good freind. I experimented to some extent with my job role, and kind of found what I was looking for.

When I turned 29, I had little clue of how important that year of my life would be for me. The year started with my mom spending my birthday with me - a first in 8 years! And of course, N spending his time with me. By mid year, I was in love and married and by the end of the year, I am a six month happily married woman. Almost exactly (28th to 28th). To a man of my dreams.

Now my next decade has started, and I cant be more eager. It is strange that my life has been divided so well into decades. But it gives the whole thing a neatness that I could never have planned. My wedding anniversary too falls so precisely near my birthdate - a difference of less than a week.

I still have to do so many firsts! I still have to buy my first anti-ageing cream! I still have to learn the guitar and I still have to Bungee Jump.

I start my thirties just married, in a career where I am stable yet eager for growth, and a city where anything can happen! Life has opened up another level of iterations, and I just cant wait to go through all of them!

It rained

dippyblogs — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 11:08:31 GMT

It rained last evening. The first rain of the season. After blistering heat, unbearable humidity and severe test of human endurance.
The sky turned cloudy as the sun started setting, reflecting off into the horizon myriad hues of pink, yellow and orange. The wind picked up. In the busy streets of bombay, people smiled and looked up. Nature demanded attention.

We got into the car and rolled down the windows. It was still warmer outside than in the AC of the car. The wind was strong, but dusty. We rolled up the windows. After a while we stopped at a shop and when we emerged, fat drops began decending in a leisurely, slow manner - scattered into the small garden in front of the shop. The dust welcomed the raindrops and gave off their approval with the distinctive after-rain smell.

We ran into the car, but the windows couldnt be let down - it was raining too hard. Everything was getting wet. Our minds and eyes refreshed, our stomachs seeked warm Maggi. And we stopped yet again. Rushing into a shop getting wet in the pelting rain. Perhaps we wanted an excuse.

Home and all windows were left open to let the cool, lovely wind come in and refresh the months of heat stifling the apartment.

Morning, and everything seems so peaceful. There are clouds, yet its not dull. Though it has rained, its not enough to bring the 'freshly washed' look out of everything. But everything looks more peaceful. Even the sun peeping in. Birds seem to fly about everywhere, and the wind is cool. The roads empty with Friday and the first rainy evening giving enough reasons to many to stay home. It is extremely pleasant.

I come to office and cannot sit still. I open the window blinds in front of me, and stare at the building in front - half of it cool and reflecting with dark glasses and the white part shining in reflected sun. I feel like going on a picnic.

The people in office seem happy, smiling and casual, and I am not sure if it is only because it is the end of week or the plans of watching the first day showof a highly anticipated movie.
I want to pack my bgas and go off on a long drive, N in tow, sandwiches on the back seat. Maybe a walk around the office compound will help. I look down at the small patch of greenery, with a thin road for cars, imagine sitting there staring at the sky. I know work will call me back soon. But I take the time to go down and enjoy the first day amongst many - of calm, peaceful weather. The monsoons, have arrived.

dippyblogs — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 10:47:06 GMT

Two quotes

dippyblogs — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 10:12:22 GMT

Read two things today that reminded me of somethings I mentioned earlier.
First, the more lyrical prose:
"'People care more about their plans if they make the plan themselves.”
This seems true. It seems true for all plans. For all departures. For all entrances. And you can tell if it’s your own plan by how lost you feel. People who do their own plans feel lost most of the time. People who do other peoples’ plans feel on track most of the time."

This is basically saying the same thing as stating how easy it is to judge someone's sitation and give advise. It may be the more level headed thing to do, but unless you yourself are in the frying pan, you will never feel the fire. And if someone tells you how to get out of that pan it may be the best way, but you will never feel as invested in that method if it were thought out by you, yourself.
And that is so true in anything. You may respect someone's knowledge, but unless you learn from your mistake, its just knowledge, not learning.
We, as human beings, have enough ego in us to believe stuff, but not really care for all that we believe - till we go through it.

And when we make a path we want to follow, we need that constant reassurance that we are right. Reassurance through our friends, family, books, or even self written blogs. Like changing jobs. We will never change a job just because everyone around us can analyse that it is making us someone we are not. We will change it only when we feel it ourself, and it is bad enough to make us want to make the change. First hand feelings.
And then once we make the plan that we want to shift, we need the constant reassurance that what we are doing is the right thing. The choice being made is correct.

The other para that struck me:
"Sometimes Sickness might also be telling you something. When I worked for a private equity firm I fell once for no reason and could barely walk for a week or so afterwards. It wasn’t good for me to be there. I never went back. And later experiences proved me correct. Your body sometimes knows more than you do."

This is so true for everyone I know. It is like a physical manifestation of mental anguish. When we are unhappy, and unwilling to accept that fact or act on it, our body shows it.
I have seen so many people join new companies with high hopes, and then just falling sick. Like nobody's business. Good employees, great drive to work, but that persistent cough and cold, the inexplicable fever, the sudden back stiffness. It is not just the actual illness, it is something that employee refuses to face up to - that s/he is unhappy in that new job. That they need to look closer into what has made them unhappy and tackle that, rather than just the illness.
So many times in interpersonal relationships a person can continue to fall sick - and that is because of either stress or that unaddresses need for attention. Whatever it is, when your body starts behaving in a manner different from normal, it is time we addressed the psychosomatic phenomenon.

Trip down Memory Lane

dippyblogs — Thu, 19 May 2011 12:03:05 GMT

I walk down the street. Its been a long time. I enjoy the feeling. The feel of the pavement. The trees, the fork in the road. I walk down, weighed down by my laptop and high heels, the uneven broken pavement interspersed with trees sprouting through its width, unexpectedly and inconveniently. I walk along zig zagging between the road and the pavement, avoiding the cars and the pets on leash.
I let the familar feeling seep in. It feels good.
Turning right I see my familar shops of milk and biscuits, and cola and chips. I dont want any, unfortunately. Im tempted, but the weight on my shoulder deters me and I walk past. I pass my old house - the Nepali guard looks at me, looks away. I start to feel diasppointed, but then he looks back sharply and gives me a huge, shy grin and an enthusiastic 'namaste!'
It feels good.
"namaste!' I reply. And stop to exchange pleasantries. And with nothing more to say, ask about any letters that may have come my way. I leave a forwarding address, look at the lift with temptation. Wonder about my faithful maid, and then just turn and leave.
I go down the road and turn - the coconut water seller attracts me. I realise Im thirsty. Then I see my old trusty parlour. My feet change trajectory before I know it, and Im inside. Into a cool room with low music playing, familiar odour and a familiar face smiling. I sit down as I wait for 'Madam'. Being away from the harsh sunlight outside releives my eyes. The coolness feels good to my suit clad body. The weight off the shoulder even more so as I keep the laptop aside.
It feels good.
Suddenly Molly aka Madam enters 'Arrrrrey! After a long time!' she squeels. I smile. I get my nails painted - in a way only she can. I sit back chat to her, and relax. She seamlessley goes on to talk about her son, the girls who work there, like there never was a gap. The familiar feeling relaxes me, takes off the tension of the workday. It feels like a mini holiday. Personal mini holiday. I close my eyes.
It feels very good.
I walk out. And get the 'nariyal paani' eventually. I feel refreshed. Now I dont want to get a cab and head home. I want to walk around some more. I head towards the favourite snack store and buy the regular quota of delicious 'diet' snacks only this shop stores. Finally I notice the time. The traffic must have swelled by now. My feet are aching. My shoulder as well. The extra packets bought dont help much.
Quickly I cross the road and get into a taxi. A taxi - after a long time. It feels familiar - the roads, the view, the ride. I smile.
I sit back, and watch outside with semi closed eyes as I relax on my way home. I keep the short visit as a memory tucked away. I know it will feel less special the next time, and the next, and one day might not mean anything. But today, I enjoy being back where I was almost 5 months ago.
The taxi hits the highway, and surprisingly, traffic. I have not travelled this way with the traffic in the evening. Its no more like I knew it.
I lean forward, take out my phone and come back to my present life.
It feels good.

Placation

dippyblogs — Wed, 18 May 2011 11:44:51 GMT

Lets play something nice. What do you want to listen to?
*Fiddles around with the switches* I want new music. I am bored of what I hear.
But you like what you listen to. Its your collection.
Yes, but Ive heard it too many times. I want something new.
So get it.
What?
The music you want. Just get it - download it, copy it, buy it.
I dont know what music I want.
Then how will you get it?
I dont know! On the Net maybe? Thats why I want it, but dont have it.
Hmm. So how will you know what you want?
By surfing. Radio is hopeless.
OK... so why dont you find it. You want me to start the computer for you?
Not now.
OK...then. *pause* Till you get it, lets listen to what you have.
*irritation*

But then after a while familiar tunes make the mind ease and the tension dissipate.

My Non-Love of Cricket

dippyblogs — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 07:27:50 GMT

I have grown up in a house that did not really have sports crazed fans. Most people around me either played themselves, or at max enjoyed their game of football once in a while. Being an 80's child, even the frequency of watching a match was very low, thanks to the recent advent of television in India. The FIFA afterall happened only once in five years, and other times even radio only aired cricket. So yes, there had been almost no cricket in my childhood.
The only people in my family who watched cricket were two of my cousin brothers of whom I was not very fond of, nor met momre than once in a couple of years or so. My other brothers who also watched cricket were more passionate about tennis and equally passionate about football. I discussed the latter with them. Pete Sampras and Steffi Graf were far more interesting players than eleven men standing around on a field as far as I was concerned! The allegations of match fixing didnt help with my impression of the game.

In the Army world, where I grew up, the real civilian life was far away, and so were games like cricket. War and war exercises were what occupied adults, obstacle races and other sports occupied us kids. In many places radio was also a little far fetched, with focus on video tapes of movies and movie songs. Who cared about cricket when politics were much more dynamic and interesting? in the absence of cycling and Pitthoo, there was always Chandni, Shehenshah, ET, Back to the Future and Maine Pyar Kiya to entertain one!
Happy in my world of rigorous activities and own games, cricket was something that belonged to unknown masses.
When I finally wholeheartedly joined the world of civilians during my college years, we were a batch of 24. Of which barely a few would be interested in TV sports - maybe 5. College activities and college games were far more important that watching TV. Getting to know movies like The Wall of far more importance than knowing how much Sachin made in a match.
It was only when I moved to my B-School that the enormity of cricket really hit me. Suddenly I realised that small talk did not include just the weather and the political scenario, but also Cricket. The advantage of being in a school hostel however is that common interests move beyond small talk very soon, and get personalised. So after a couple of months, if people talked cricket, I wasnt aware of it. However, I was aware of the existence of the game, and its stronghold on the mango public. There was indeed an India-Pakistan match while I was there, which was shown on a special large projector screen in the cafetaria, in the winter months. I remember the crowd there to watch it. But I also remember the sizeable group which was uninvolved in the match, that had music on at the terrace and were partying while the cafetaria brimmed with both temporary and permanent cricket lovers. Needless to say, I enjoyed the music. Also needless to say I have no idea of who won. My existence was complete without cricket.

As media increased its stronghold over cricket, my awareness of the game increased - insofar that I knew it existed and I knew people were fanatics about it. My friend circle had only one impassioned cricket crazed person, who happened to my flatmate as well. But then, she was left alone to watch matches as the rest of us wandered around town exploring places and watching movies.
It was then that I was told that out neighbour was the brother of some cricket player. I couldnt care less.
One of my well-networked freinds tried extremely hard to take me to a live match in Ahmedabad where he would introduce me to all the biggies since I could sit in the ...um...the place where the cricketers sit during the game...with them. To me, it was an unexciting prospect since I did not know anything about the game, and saw nothing to admire in these Indians who were paid a bomb for not even running around.
This year, however, things changed. I am now married to a man who loves cricket. The Unthinkable happened. I now know a few terms of cricket - enough to make small talk on. And, then I sat through a few matches. I will not say I am interested in the game. I still find it extremely boring. The so called 'technical aspects' make it entertaining enough, but far from excite me. But it has been an interesting journey from a cricket hater to a pseudo cricket watcher. I still get bugged when offices cease to function because of a match, and I still cannot fathom how it can impact people for days. (If my favorite football team wins, I am happy. But that does not make me delighted about it for days!)
But who knows what the future will bring? Who knows what my response to cricket will be in a couple of years? I still feel al large part is fixed and there is too little gaming emotion in cricket. But maybe over time I will be neutral about it, maybe I will even start enjoying it.
As long as it does not bring anything negative with it, I am open to change :)

My Non-Love of Cricket

dippyblogs — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 07:15:29 GMT

I have grown up in a house that did not really have sports crazed fans. Most
people around me either played themselves, or at max enjoyed their game of
football once in a while. Being an 80's child, even the frequency of
watching a match was very low, thanks to the recent advent of television in
India. The FIFA afterall happened only once in five years, and other times
radio only aired cricket. So yes, there had been almost no cricket in my
childhood.
The only people in my family who watched cricket were two of my cousin
brothers of whom I was not very fond of, nor met more than once in a couple
of years or so. My other brothers who also watched cricket were more
passionate about tennis and equally passionate about football. I discussed
the latter with them. Pete Sampras and Steffi Graf were far more interesting
players than eleven men standing around on a field as far as I was
concerned! The allegations of match fixing didnt help with my impression of
the game either.

In the Army world, where I grew up, the real civilian life was far away, and
so were games like cricket. War and war exercises were what occupied adults,
obstacle races and other sports occupied us kids. In many places radio was
also a little far fetched, with focus on video tapes of movies and movie
songs. Who cared about cricket when politics were much more dynamic and
interesting? in the absence of cycling and *Pitthoo*, there was always
Shehenshah, ET, Back to the Future, Star Wars and Maine Pyar Kiya to
entertain one!
Happy in my world of rigorous activities and own games, cricket was
something that belonged to unknown masses.
When I finally wholeheartedly joined the world of civilians during my
college years, we were a batch of 24. Of which barely a few would be
interested in TV sports - maybe 5. College activities and college games were
far more important that watching TV. Getting to know movies like The Wall of
far more importance than knowing how much Sachin made in a match.
It was only when I moved to my B-School that the enormity of cricket really
hit me. Suddenly I realised that small talk did not include just the weather
and the political scenario, but also Cricket. The advantage of being in a
school hostel however is that common interests move beyond small talk very
soon, and get personalised. So after a couple of months, if people talked
cricket, I wasnt aware of it. However, I was aware of the existence of the
game, and its stronghold on the mango public. There was indeed an
India-Pakistan match while I was there, which was shown on a special large
projector screen in the cafetaria, in the winter months. I remember the
crowd there to watch it. But I also remember the sizeable group which was
uninvolved in the match, that had music on at the terrace and were partying
while the cafetaria brimmed with both temporary and permanent cricket
lovers. Needless to say, I enjoyed the music. Also needless to say I have no
idea of who won. My existence was complete without cricket.

As media increased its stronghold over cricket, my awareness of the game
increased - insofar that I knew it existed and I knew people were fanatics
about it. My friend circle had only one impassioned cricket crazed person,
who happened to my flatmate as well. But then, she was left alone to watch
matches as the rest of us wandered around town exploring places and watching
movies.
It was then that I was told that out neighbour was the brother of some
cricket player. I couldnt care less.
One of my well-networked friends tried extremely hard to take me to a live
match in Ahmedabad where he would introduce me to all the biggies since I
could sit in the ...um...the place where the cricketers sit during the
game...with them. To me, it was an unexciting prospect since I did not know
anything about the game, and saw nothing to admire in these Indians who were
paid a bomb for not even running around.
This year, however, things changed. I am now married to a man who loves
cricket. The Unthinkable happened. I now know a few terms of cricket -
enough to make small talk on. And, then I sat through a few matches. I will
not say I am interested in the game. I still find it extremely boring to
watch. It is the excitement of others which makes me sit through it. The so
called 'technical aspect insights' make it entertaining enough, but far from
excite me. But it has been an interesting journey from a cricket hater to a
pseudo cricket watcher. I still get bugged when offices cease to function
because of a match, and I still cannot fathom how it can impact people for
days. (If my favorite football team wins, I am happy. But that does not make
me delighted about it for days!)
But who knows what the future will bring? Who knows what my response to
cricket will be in a couple of years? I still feel a large part of the game
is fixed and it is a bubble waiting to burst and there is too little gaming
emotion in cricket. But maybe over time I will be neutral about it, maybe I
will even start enjoying it.
As long as it does not bring anything negative with it, I am open to change
:)

Dreamwalk

dippyblogs — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 11:54:19 GMT

I sit and stare at my computer screen
At the pile of papers and faces around me
All so close yet all so lost

And then I pick my self up
And walk away

Soon I am in a cold country
empty roads, green trees
Open blue sky above
Empty spaces
speeding away in a train
I go on

I walk to the city district
Tired faces surround me
But they smile
warm and curious
as I pass by

The subway beckons and I enter
the same people as can always be seen
Enter from offices which I walked away from
They stare
and then they smile

Smiling, i walk out
past an elaborate labyrinth of stairs
onto pavements selling books and portraits
looking, i walk past

To look up to old buildings
with medieval architecture
Older than the streets
still standing tall

Framed by modern cars and people
People young and yet so old
Carrying the weight of civilisation
Lightly and with joy

I climb a tower and look at the panorama
of rivers and bridges
and towers and sprawling gardens
against a backdrop of modern buildings
gleaming yellow in the setting sun

I wait till the sun sets slowly
and twinkling the lights come on
covering the city below me
in a blanket of stars

I feel the air
i feel the calm haste
a sense of purpose in the purposelessness
in the air and everywhere
I imbibe it

I come down
I return
back to where I had picked my Self from
Back to where I sat
next to impassive faces
in front of computer screens

I then dream
of working and living
in a city such as I saw
when I dreamt

Packing my Life

dippyblogs — Tue, 11 Jan 2011 06:25:10 GMT

With the beginning of 2011, I dig through my life, an accumulation of years. Not too many since there is a large part that remains behind everytime I move. And I have moved a lot.

For someone so sentimental about stuff, it surprises me how little I do carry, and then I find lost treasures in corners, hidden away, and remember how much I carry.

Three years has been a span, in most cities, but the years have piled on, just the same.

The wardrobe has changed and so has the library. But they still remain, reminding me faintly of the time x years ago when that particular item was my favorite.

I may not wear it, nor read it often. But it remains there, sometimes a talisman, sometimes a reminder. Sometimes just a memory of good times and favorites.

I have never been good at throwing away things. That job was left to my poor hapless mother. I could blame her when I missed something rather than visit the dumping bin myself.

Once again I find myself facing suitcases. My faithfuls that have been with me for the past 10 years as I moved from place to place. Somehow all I own seems to fit into them, everytime. Even though my luggage has grown.

I find myself packing again. This time its a little different. There is a severence of ties now. Subtle, but there. The last time it was something similar was when I left home. But then I still had the almirah at home, with my things, which I left with my memories.

Some still remain. I go home and open it and stand, looking at a skirt here, a top there, bringing back memories, flooding my brain, in one look. I look at my coloring book from pre-school and remember how it was.

Now I have no almirah to store my memories in. Some, as usual I am glad to let go, some others beckon to me. And yet more want to remain just for the semblance of normalness in life. To tell me this is not a permanent upheaval, that life will continue just as it is.

That living will be the same, albeit a little different. But I hope it will not be so different that I leave myself behind. And so, I dig through my life, and sort.

Time

dippyblogs — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 11:26:55 GMT

It is not the first time that I will comment on time, and perhaps not the last either. The fluidity and abstract nature of this elusive concept excites and confuses me everytime I think of it.
November 5th was only a blink of an eye ago, when it was Diwali this year, and yet, when I think of this Diwali it seems to be another year. In weeks, it was just a week ago that it was 15th november, when I was thinking of the developments and work to ensue in the last week, and here I am, still planning only to realise that it is the last week of November.

Time seems to stretch at the most unseemly moments, elongating like a well chewed gum as you walk on its thin thread, while collapsing into a small ball which you can skid over when having fun. Days seem to pass by unnoticed, made long with the events in them. Office can last for hours, and phone calls for minutes. Evenings stretch into midnights and mornings into afternoons, making each day seem like a week when looking back. Yet, while living them, they days feel short.

Sometimes when I look back to yesterday and think of all that I did, I wonder - was it all in just 24 hours? Because when I was part of those hours, it seemed endless. Days are whizzing past so fast, their supersonic speeds leave me with no sound to gauge their passing. It is only I look back and I look forward do I realise that a month has passed, and then another.

It was only yesterday that it was searing hot. Today it is cool and I remember the heat was not yesterday, it was in March. It seems a week ago that I sat and followed the FIFA. And yet, its already history while so many other tournaments happened in between. At the same time, some things that happened yesterday seem to have occured in another time and place, by someone else.

I look at the watch. It is 3.46. Yet only one glance ago it was 3.30. Why does time not pass now, when I want it to? But then, maybe I dont. Because the taskbar shows the files that I have to work on whether I like it or not. And I have only till 6 to make them vanish.

Time. The one factor that determines so much of our life - day and night, events and passing of events. Yet, time itself warps itself around my head. At moments like this I feel thankful that time has been scaled and determined into quadrants. That it is not upto individuals to determine its duration. That there are clocks which will tell me the standard.
And yet, sometimes I feel I wish time was in my hands. To extend as I please, to shorten when I want. So nights for me could be longer, and mornings shorter, so time spent with my friends and family could be suspended, if only for a while, by me, while the world moved on.

But then the clock rings and I realise, that Time - elusive, stretchable Time, is calling me back to a standardised universe, where the Sun determines my moments.

Today is a 'Nice' Day

dippyblogs — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 09:23:32 GMT

Today is a nice day.
The kind of day when the sun actually does shine down upon you. After weeks
of incessant rain, the clouds have parted, and pale, warm sunlight surrounds
you, making you smile.
The air is still cool and the wind there enough, just enough to not make it
stuffy.

It is the kind of day one wants to be creative in. Make something new. Do
something new. Learn something fresh. Or just sit and talk to close ones.

I wake up in the morning, the plants look perky and bright, the sky looks
blue with small puffy clouds. The wind rustles the curtains. It has to be a
nice day.
The relaxing weekend leaves its mark, and I want to kick start the week with
brightness. I choose sunshine yellow.
Reaching office in itself is not a chore, but sitting down and working is.
But work draws me in, making me attend to it, forgetting the day, the
yellow.
It is the kind of day that takes me back to Ahmedabad, TPL and TRC. I long
to look out and see rolling green plains. To listen to music, and talk to my
freinds (then colleagues). To take some time out, while at work. To go out,
sit near the highway and have sweet, sticky, strong tea.

Instead I look out at the new building under construction, I direct work to
some colleagues brusquely and I try and focus on the work.
But I cant. This is the type of day that one should go on walks. Long walks.
Within the city or outside. Just walk till you are tired.

So I daydream. I think about leaving office for lunch, walking down on a
brisk, but steady pace, till I reach home, with a freind or maybe two. To
sit there, have a long lingering lunch with juice and ice, till the ice
melts in the glass, leaving a pool of water. Then to relax, sit there
looking out, chatting and laughing. And after having my fill, look at my
watch, wonder at the time, and return back to work, only to wait till
evening comes.
It is that kind of day.

Have you ever done that? Gone home for lunch from work? When home is not
near? Looked out from your house window on a pale sunny day, feeling calm
and relaxed? Eaten lunch at a table while having spent the morning in
office, all ready and dressed for work?
Its glorious.
And it has been a long time since I did that. Today, I want to do it again.

But I cant.
I live too far away, and I have too much work. Lunch came and went, and I
stayed sitting here, working. I call up N, he is home for something from
work. Laughing with his mom on some joke when he picks up the phone. I envy
him and his being home.
I come outside, then. I drink in the day. Pause from my work, look about,
and promise myself an afternoon, soon. Before monsoons end. Before such days
pass onto the clear autumnal winters of Bombay.
I promise to remember the promise.

Then I remember there is a lot of work. I come back inside. I look out. I
know its a nice day. And work doesnt seem so bad.