My life is an open blog

My earliest memory of crushing on a guy was as a 5 yr old in Baghdad. This cute Arab shepherd probably the same age, wearing his black and white checked keffiyeh, used to pass my house with his goats. I used to religiously sit next to the window and wait for him to come every morning. (Pause for awwws) Then we had to flee the country. Gulf war started. Ah, simple times!

My first real crush was later the same year, but back in India. He was my classmate in school. 

The year was 1990. It was the Annual Day function. All the primary school students were participating in whatever capacity they could. It was quite interesting actually, all of us were accommodated in various fairy tales, where they were not only enacted by us but the costumes were our personal ones, so it was multiple plays as well as a fancy dress competition.

I was playing the part of ‘Mirror’ in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. (Pause for laughs) And ‘he’ was coincidently the Prince. Oh how I hated the girl playing Snow White! And she was a year younger! There wasn't a day I didn’t wish she’d be unable to justify the enigmatic character and was compelled to switch places with me. And when he went up to her and kissed her hand to bring her back to life, it was like a thousand knives strategically stabbed in my heart. To add fuel to fire, he was also participating in ballroom dancing and was partnered with the prettiest girl in my class (we discovered 10 years later that they were crushing on each other then and had recently started dating, which managed to shatter me for a day!)

Anyhoo I tried to contact him through fb back in 2007 with a “Hey! I was in your class in DPS, remember?” He replied “Sorry, but it would really help if you’d put up a picture” (If I show my DP now baby, it would kill you that you don’t remember me!)

How could he not remember the time when we magically happened to be alone once in class in the 5^th grade and to kill time he was teaching me how to make chalk back from the chalk powder by mixing water in it and molding them into cylinders? I even remember the anticipation on his face, as he waited for it to dry in the sun. He didn’t remember the time I complained to the teacher about him bringing syringes to class after he had recovered from a critical brain hemorrhage, ‘cause he didn’t know how worried I was and how much I missed him the 15 days he didn’t come to school. Or when he ran around class laughing with my I-card in his hand, making fun of my picture.  

He left for another school after 6^th grade and I was heartbroken. I swore I’d never “love” again. (*sniff*  tissues please) However, what followed was a string of crushes. I tried counting a few years back, I realized I just didn’t have enough fingers and toes combined. Did we even think in our time that school crushes could be reciprocated?

My first heartbreak came even before I knew how to subtract by borrowing. It’s funny, though over the years heartbreaks have come in all shapes and sizes, with little or huge complications, the plot pretty much remains the same.

It’s like how Brandon Boyd sings in Smile Lines:

I want you bad!
I want you bad!
I understand why they say 
high school never ends

Play-Oh!

After watching 15 episodes of Glee in 5 days that the Americans did in 8 months (ha hah!), I seem to have gone through a life altering experience, quite like the time when Star World started airing American Idol with its Season-3, when I used to get all charged up to sing in my room after every episode and my mom used to shout from the kitchen “Don’t play the stereo so loud!” (Ok, so I self-praise. Sue me.)

Now what’s so good about this show? It’s like a broadway musical, just in 40 min weekly episodes! Sometimes it’s too heavily auto-tuned, you just want them to be a little organic and I’ve often wondered why their music teacher never seems to be actually shown teaching them, BUT that is one fine bunch of performers! Quite similar to that movie I have seen a gazillion + 1 times – Sister Act-II, except the cast members are the singers themselves! But for all the people who aren’t very ‘high-schooly’ like me, I’d advise you stay away :)

Why can’t you break out in a song during a conversation, like they do? Why can’t we just sing instead of talking? When angry with a guy for breaking your heart, why can’t you belt out your rendition of “Gives you hell” while pointing fingers in his face ‘cause the guy’s beyond corrigible? It’s more fun! (Except when encountering the melodically challenged) And boy, it feels good! Personally I’m extremely uncomfortable expressing my feelings and completely agree with Neil Diamond when he says “It’s very difficult for me to say ‘I love you’ but to sing ‘I love you’ is easier” You try saying sentimental things to a guy and he starts looking constipated; same thing in a song and he’s eating out of your hands! (Maybe the guy's thinking “If she can sing well, she probably moans well too”) I digress (and stereotype)

The one movie that just knocks my socks off every time I watch it is this wonderful, most unpretentious musical called Once. What the main protagonists could not express to each other or their respective lovers in words, they wrote in songs. Replacement of run-of-the-mill dialogues with stirring songs thus became a natural extension to scenes, filling the gaps between the story, sometimes depicting anger at the hands of betrayal (“Lies”, “Leave”) or sadness of being bereft (“If You Want Me”, “When You’re Mind’s Made Up”) Please don’t miss its soundtrack for the world.

You get where I’m going with this?

I would like to see Glee pick a page from Once's book but it’s all good. There is so much beautiful music out there. I just want people to stop fighting over what music is better and judging each other because of it. Music is after all emotions, whether they are Pantera’s or Justin Bieber’s. 

Happy Birthday!

Here’s wishing the self-professed well-endowed Mallu

A great birthday filled with much awaited hullabaloo!

Do write a funny post

While I tweet about it and give a toast

To the twenty three years that have made you a man

Of cryptics and puns and devious Bangalorean plans

So party like you don’t give a damn

‘cause I still won’t be turning on my webcam :)

Thodi si jo pee lee hai, chori to nahi ki hai

Open bar nights are awesome. They wouldn’t have meant anything to me two years back. And my ex-roommate who was an ex-B-schooler was right. B-schools make you do all those things you scoffed at all your life. She laughed at me and said “We’ll see!” when I said the following things don’t attract me: Random make-outs, smoking up and drinking like a mad person (and making a fool of yourself around campus) It’s too bad I didn’t really enjoy smoking up and backed out like a sissy right before I had the opportunities to "score". A year extra perhaps…

Open bar nights are awesome. They mean a lot to me now. I can’t dance without it. I can barely hold a conversation without it. I stop judging people after 2 drinks. And I’m the official entertainer to my friends then so I don’t mind the attention. Besides, you get to forget for a few hours.

Open bar nights are awesome. Vodka, rum, Teacher’s, gin, Champagne, all flavors of Breezer. Nice hotel. Good food. And parents, who you are trying to convince to have some more (It’s an open bar! Look! Good stuff!) so they don’t notice your glances towards the bar like a child looking at candy and that I'm already a few down. Not so awesome now, is it?

I HATE STAYING AT HOME! ARGHHHH. Rational career choice my ass.

Ms.Queez-me-not

Me: Yay! I’ve reached the third chapter - Versalees, Weemar and Beer Hall Push (Versailles, Weimar and Beer Hall Putsch)

Bro: You mean Versae and Waemar

Me: Yeah yeah, that

Bro: I’m guessing you don’t know much about World War I

Me: Nope

Bro: You would atleast know about the Treaty of Versailles!

Me: Umm…I know what a treaty is

Bro: *banging his head against the wall*

I hate quizzers. They make you feel like shit.

Ram ram I don't understand you Tam Bram

There are two things you need to be a completely happy blog reader in this country:

1. You should have worked in an IT company at any point of time

2. You should be a Tam Bram/Mallu or just someone who is well-acquainted with the lot

Now I am what Tony describes introduced to me as “an Amit” (originally a brain child of Krish Ashok, the greatest Tam Bram blogger), a typical North Indian who doesn’t understand the South’s quirkiness and their hot cross puns. Though their writing style is supremely engaging (read funny, witty, with illustrations and solid storylines, with cultural and environmental factors sprinkled in), with one Tam/Mallu wordplay I am thrown off an entire post. Then I find myself wondering why there aren’t enough blogs by people from other communities even though jokes are aplenty. Do we not have “snakes in the hole” Gujjus, ostentatious Madus, so-pompous-it-makes-me-puke Punjus, conniving UPites, “bhalo bhashi” Bongs, and well Kashmiris, fit only to have pretty photo blogs?

As a future marketer, I understand that there is a huge need gap for the same (I cooked that one up) So I probed into the matter (Ok, I cooked that one up as well. After all MICAn blood runs in my veins.) And while I was awake all night with a running nose, with one eurekan sniff I (think I) got my answer – we are HORRIBLE with the written word! (or life in the South sucks donkeyballs providing them with tons of writing fodder but for political correctness we shall stick to educational system bashing) No wonder 2 States is such a big hit. Even I liked it! I could finally relate to something, the Delhi-ness, the Punju-ness. And if Chetan Bhagat was a normal blogger like us, he probably would’ve been decently respected in the circle. (Warning: For greater good of mankind please do not attempt to go to his twitter page)

Now at this turn of my post if you’re looking for something substantial, here it is.

Something substantial.

Ok that was predictable.

But I will go ahead and have the balls to dedicate this post to the 11 pages mysteriously missing from my copy of 2 States. Just when I was wondering how Krish magically ended up from being at his graduation to a struggling employee at Citibank Chennai with a flick of the finger…

Ok bye now, go take a leak or something. 

Show me the money

Ever since I got into a B-school I’ve been the poster child for academics in my family. The relatively new attention was nice till every distant cousin started calling up to get CAT advice. Though I make no bones about the fact that a 93.2 percentile was a very average score, just enough to get me through to MICA, it seemed like a big deal to my parents since the last time I scored in the 90s was back in the 7^th grade.

But it does bring with it some perks. Like during the time relatives turn up to wish you when you graduate. My favorites are the ones who are particularly generous with the wallet, due to their inability to make slick conversations.

One such is a family friend who comes every time without fail and not only shoves a big fat money-filled envelope in my hand but also atleast 2 bags of goodies. (Goodies include chips, juices, pizzas etc.) AND she doesn’t even take a seat!

Hello beta. Congratulations! Bohut naam roshan kiya mummy-papa ka. (Yadi yada, conveys her wishes to my mom in Kashmiri) Yeh lo (money packet), mujhe samajh nahi aaya kya loon tere liye, kuch khareed lena khud hi. Chalo main nikalti hoon (some excuses in Kashmiri) Aate rehna, aur zara mere nalayak bete mein kuch akal daal de.

5 mins. Flat. And all I have to do is counsel their kids. Those are the ones dreams are made of.

Then there are some.

Aunty – Hello beta. Arre wah, kya baat hai! (Kisses on the forehead*) Doctor sahib, ab to yeh shaadi ke liye tayyar hai.

(everyone nods in agreement followed by gentle murmuring)

Uncle – Well done, well done! (Handshake)

I wait.

I wait some more.

I still feel the pressure of the handshake on my palm.

Is that it, a handshake? No “beta yeh rakh lo.” ”No uncle!” “Nahi beta na mat karo.” “Magar uncle aapka aashirvad ki kafi hai” squabbles? But I love those phony 10-second one act plays!

Is that all I get for a half an hour conversation I have to bear about how they think I should settle abroad after marriage and how all girls say they don’t want to get married but then in the end they not only do they even tag along with their husbands everywhere he goes?

Like, SERIOUSLY? I’m broke. Can you solve my today's worry first?

FYI my “market value” has gone up. Some fret it will become difficult for them to find me a suitable match. I’m not surprised - Kashmiri men and intelligence don’t really go together. If you know one, you know who to call. That’s right, your psychiatrist.

If you haven’t wished me yet I accept cash and cheques worth Rs. 500 or more. Then we’ll forget about the psych remark.

*In our tradition, we don’t touch feet. We believe in spreading germs by getting wet kissed on the forehead by our elders. Uggghhh.

All smiles

2 things made me smile today:
              

A 102 year old woman at some complicated name place in China has joined 1st grade with a bunch of 5 year olds.

Hugh Hefner, 83, is getting married. He thinks "it's getting serious". Maybe 5 years down the line he will think about kids and 10 years later about renewing his vows. Seriously, the girl must be really something. After all the women over the years if this one can manage to "get it up" and at his age, hats-off to her! But for now, I hope he has the good sense to sign a pre-nuptual agreement.


On a bit of a tangent, what do you think he would ever mean by a commitment? He will not look at another woman? Now, that's not possible. He won't have sex with another woman? Won't that go against the smooth running of his business? Am I surprised she is younger to me? Am I surprised that his previous gf's were 20-year old twins? 

Apart from this, the one thing that never fails to make me smile is the Youngistaan Ka Wow campaign. No, this is not because my gang in college was embarrassingly called Youngistaan, it's because of the following excerpt from an article: (Please pay close attention to the text in orange)

Hari Krishnan, executive business director, JWT Delhi feels that it was high time to take the Youngistaan concept forward, and to add a fresh lease of life to it. However, he believes that the true success of the campaign can only be defined, if like the last campaign of Pepsi, where 'Youngistaan' got into people's vocabulary, 'wow' too becomes part of their speech.
However, the creative team at JWT opines that the part of the campaign released so far is just the tip of the iceberg. More surprises in terms of creative content are on the way. "The best is yet to come from the Youngistaan ka Wow campaign," they conclude. 

(Source: afaqs.com)

According to me, the only sensible thing they ever did was a tie-up with Indiblogger. But till their "best" comes, I will foolishly snicker only to the zoozoo and Bingo ads.

Triumph of the Kill

I remember this one specific Culture and Communication class during my first year at MICA when we were being taught about Nazi Germany. The reason I will never forget that one is 'cause no class, in my history of classes, and trust me those have been a lot more than what I consciously signed up for, has ever reduced me to tears, as my favorite prof narrated the entire process of Jews being brought to concentration camps to their eventual fate in the gas chambers. After watching half a dozen to a dozen "Nazi movies" I knew this subject was going to be something that would remain with me even post my academic life.

So a few days back I decided to go book-hunting. Now, I haven't been able to read more than 2 non-textbooks in the past 3 years (not that I read textbooks either) and one of them include Two States (don't kill me, it costed 99 bucks!), so this was sort of me being very adventurous with my understood intellectual capacity. When I entered the book store, I was trying to figure out the genre I was looking for and as I stumbled on stacks of books on the floor of the narrow alleys, I was reaching the fag end of the store from where I could faintly read the word HISTORY. Unchartered territories, I thought to myself. Be brave and act casual. But no luck with the book. I strutted in with arrogance and walked out trying to merge with air.

Finally after another such store, which practically gave me a slap in the face by being shut altogether, I decided to make a trip to the only other one I knew, a tiny little place around the corner. It's obviously not going to have it, I assumed, maybe I should buy The Lost Symbol and the book that said "You have got to read this if you've read The Lost Symbol!"

However magically, as I made my first head turn in the store, staring me in the face was "THE RISE AND FALL OF THE THIRD REICH" Words fail me now that I'm trying to describe the instantaneous feeling. It was very "Hallelujah!-Shahrukh-sees-Sushmita in Main Hoon Na" I don't remember how my feet flighted and reached the shelf to pick it up.

The top view:

Nice, no? The picture is a shot from the movie "Triumph of the Will" by Leni Riefenstahl, which I have been dying to see since forever but haven't yet laid my hands on.

Now, the side view:

Apart from my worry about how much time it will take to finish reading this, the real issue was the price. Hold onto your horses women, it was a thousand bucks. I thought (again), let's get out of here. Forget this obsession, think about your track record. Two States, TWO STATES. What's more, bitch you even liked it! But after my 10 minute contemplative monologue ended, I headed towards the cash register.

Me - Pleeeeeease tell me there is a discount on this! *puppy face*
Cashier - Yes, there is! 10%
Me - I'LL TAKE IT! :D

And boy, I'm not regretting it. Though I'm just a few pages down I can tell this would be my read of a lifetime. AND since my brother's reaction to every interesting thing I read is Hmm. Hmm. Listen, I'm playing FIFA. So stfu, I thought I'd bore you guys instead.

You know, these people's personal lives were strange (Though only few can match Woody Allen's in barf-worthiness) For instance, Hitler's dad's last wife (Adolf's mom) was his foster daughter during his first marriage not to mention she was his own second cousin, and even Hitler's apparent "one true love" was his half-sister's daughter.

Did I mention 485 tons of records of the German Foreign Office from 1868 up till 1945 were recovered!
Did you know Hitler once worked as a building laborer and was rejected by art school and was told to apply to Architecture school instead?

I feel wise. I'll go read some more :)

So long...inspiration

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
Best because I FINALLY see myself getting over nagging pains, worst because those were my biggest writing inspirations. So this post is dedicated to two of my biggest recent romances.

MICA

I fell in love with the place when I first heard about it back in 2005. Since then it had been my dream school. 5 years hence I'm still dreaming, but for all the right reasons. Though initially I felt I did not fit in, I realized no one else did either! And that's how we all came to belong. They gave me two most precious years to make it my own and now that time is up.

I wanted to love it more. But, so more could, it let me go.

An obscure place

in the middle of nowhere

you found me

or I found you

who cares.

I think I was born to be

a MICAn for life.

Mr.You-know-who-you-are
It's been so long I barely remember your face but I still remember a few events and words exchanged, however the feelings behind them have now blurred in my head. Though I've spent the past two years of my life in complete and utter misery, if I had the chance to do it all over again, I would not change a single minute of me being helplessly drowned in you. Where others derive their inspiration from your work, I got mine from The You! And I can't thank you enough for being my muse for as long as you have. But being cooped up in bed for 15 hours everyday thinking what's the point of even getting up? is not the way one should live their life.

You are a mystery I no longer intend to solve. So, I'm letting you go.

You play memories in your head
sometimes even fictional ones
hoping if you'd play them often enough
they just might come to life
and you replay
and replay
and replay
'til one day
you stop.

                               Meg, thanks for this. You're a doll :)

Uninspired writing is like a river without water, dull and cracked in places, not to mention useless. So I'm out scouting for something to excite me again. Till then, I will mostly be talking about how I want to drink espresso out of miniature bone china cups or how UTV World Movies and NDTV Lumiere are rocking my world. I will not stop my monologues for anything :)

Love 'em or hate 'em

You know what's more annoying than talking to your parents? Traveling with them.

So I'm mourning leaving college and trying to sob quietly on the upper berth of Rajdhani, when every few minutes my parents below would shove some food item down my throat.
You want soup? Are you going to leave those breadsticks? 
That chicken serving looks small, let me ask the guy to get you another one. Betaaaaaaa zara idhar aana...
They didn't give salt and pepper with the main course?!?!
You spent 25 rupees to get Pepsi that's not even chilled!
You want to have Jumping? 'Jumpin' Mom, not 'Jumping'!
You must put the creamer before you pour in the water? But I'm having black coffee. Oho, ok. (Puts it in the bag, along with the unused sugar, mango pickle, sauce pouches and Amul butter)
What! You don't want to have ice cream? Are you sure? It's vanilla. (What a pickle, how are they going to store that for future purposes?!?!)
This dhokla has tomato sauce on it, how come you're having it? Mom, it's imli ki chutney. I don't think so. Whatever, I don't want it anymore.

I would've asked my doctor dad for paracetamol for my head but there would've been more questions regarding consumption. But atleast it took my mind off MICA :)

I'm all over the place today

I was staring at my adorable little pug today and thinking how hard it would be for him to survive the Delhi summer with all that darned fur on him. Then I realized he never sweats so I inquired my cousin about it. He told me dogs don't have sweat glands, that's why they stick their tongues out when they feel hot! Dayum, can you imagine how strange it would be if humans didn't have sweat glands either? This is how our conversations would be like: Hello. *huff, puff, stick your tongue out* How are you today? *huff, puff, stick your tongue out* Now don't get me wrong missy, you're not really that hot *huff, puff, stick your tongue out*



Bullocks. What am I even typing?

Anyway so after leaving college with a heavy heart, so heavy it almost crashed on the floor with a loud thud, kids came and stomped all over it, pointed their fingers at me and laughed, my girlfriends and I have been exchanging emails, phone calls, sms, all the works. With all that "miss you, love you" I never felt more gay in my life. And I wish I were lying. Like one of my friends said "This is what a true break up feels like. We must get over this almost physical sickening pain"

:(

It's been just a few days I finished what I thought was my last piece of education, but look what I found! This is making me cry. If there's one thing I've learnt at Communications school it is that generally Programme aims, course objectives and learning outcomes are just a whole lot of crap but here I don't feel like believing that. Someday baby, someday.

The answer to life, universe and everything

I thoroughly apologize to all the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy lovers but I tried picking up the book three times to realize it can't possibly be more random than my own head, so I quit. That doesn't mean I won't ever try again, I have good 2 months not just to kill, but slaughter really.

But if you haven't heard the deal about the answer to life being 42 and all that, you've seriously been living under a rock. I mean, I know decently intelligent people who have tried convincing me about it, without any possible logical explanation. So I gave them the f-word. F-I-N-E. No point arguing regarding my own misjudgment of their intelligence.

More than the question itself, what baffled people, atleast to the few over-inquisitive ones like me, was "Why '42'?". The answer from the horse's mouth was a simple Google search:

It was a joke. It had to be a number, an ordinary, smallish number, and I chose that one. 
Binary representations, base thirteen, Tibetan monks are all complete nonsense. 
I sat at my desk, stared into the garden and thought '42 will do' I typed it out. End of story.

Best,

Douglas Adams
London, UK                      

Currently in Santa Fe, NM

If Douglas Adams lived to see all the furore, he would have been having the best laugh about it. Again, he might have died laughing.

Anyway so one night during my usual long "alone-time" train journeys I couldn't sleep. The train was giving me violent swings and singing harsh lullabies. And everytime a train passed by on the parallel track I imagined a very "Final Destination Part-5" happening. I tried to distract myself, and that's when this struck me. Behold! *drum roll*

Statement 1: 42 = reverse of 24
Statement 2: 24 = number of hours in a day
Statement 3: We could attain true happiness if we could "rights our wrongs" which could happen if we could turn back or "reverse" time, lets say one day at a time, which means 24 hours
And as per Statement 1, 42 is the reverse of 24.
Hence, answer to life (I don't know about the "universe and everything") is 42.

Now we could debate about existence of happiness without sadness and all that BS, but I would only leave you with one of my favorite Coldplay songs :)

Carousel

As she hangs against the wall

Supported by her toes like a ballerina’s

Eyes close with that lift of the chin

It’s his doing

Million memories gushing like hailstorms

Gentle breeze across the pale face

Frozen eager partly parted lips yearning for warmth

Restless fingers lingering over his shoulders

They don’t know where to settle

The faint whiff of his perfume is familiar and safe

But something holds them back from an embrace

They don’t know whether the wait is in confusion

Or to create anticipation

Her heart unfollows the 8/8 metronome

Just a second away now…

to Hallelujahs. 

How lovely are preludes!

And so much more

In slow motion.

*************

This post was written while listening to one of the best songs I have heard in recent times, "Teeth" By Lisa Hannigan. If I could make one song like that - complete with the lyrics, the vocals and above all, the musical arrangement, my soul will happily leave my body the next day. Thank you Rohit for letting me know that Lisa is more than just a Damien Rice sidekick. ("I Remember" happens to be my favorite romance and shower-singing song!)

The title is inspired by "Carnival Town" by Norah Jones which also inspired this post.