Diary

26th Feb 08

9.10AM: Texting best pal as I hit ORR (Outer Ring Road), on my way to the Airport for a 9.50 flight. Shit! Fat chance I am going to make it!

9.45AM: The security lady looks at the boarding pass and smiles. “Apni bangalee?” “Haan! Ami bangalee and I am late!” The PA girl is announcing my name. Last boarding call for passenger traveling on…damn! Of all the times this one had to be on time!

9.55AM: Squeezed between a teen reading ‘Rescued by a Sheikh’ at the window and a burping gent carrying two mobile phones that ring alternatively. Groan! Remember to be on time if you want your choice of seating.

10.15AM: Pleasantly surprised with the in-flight music menu. Dark Side of the Moon. Nothing better to block the burps next door!

10.20AM: Burpy decides to watch a comedy sitcom and laughs loudly. There goes Floyd!

10.30AM: M&B girl wrestles with the climax scene and coffee finally droping the coffee on me. For once I am glad they serve lukewarm coffee in flight. Burpy tries to help and extends his napkin. Before I can say thank you, he burps on my face. Help me God!

10.55AM: Hauling my case to the taxi. Mental note: Never agree to ferry parcels for others and manage only with cabin bag.

11.50AM: Yawn! How can meetings be so boing?

2.00PM: Aloo paratha at a tiny dhaba run by a punjabi proprietor who calls himself ‘Uncle’. I am glad we decided to try this out.

5.00PM: An angry text message from Dad. ‘HOPE ALLS WELL.’ Ooops! I forgot to call home again.

7.30PM: Leafing through books at Landmark@CitiCenter. Decide to pick up a few. Anyway my bag is empty after unloading the parcels.

8.30PM: Meeting an old workmate for dinner. We decide to go for chinese on the 3rd floor. The palate disappoints. Our conversation is solely ex-office bashing. He is someone I call a professional friend. The only thing common is our old workplace. I was never inclined to know more. So by the end of the meal we didn’t have anything to talk about.

9.25PM: I walk to my hotel, relieved. One more peripheral relationship serviced for this year.

27th February 08

1.37AM: Get some sleep! It feels good to be wild. Tch!

6.08AM: It’s the alarm. Damn this is criminal! Snooze for another hour please.

7.00AM: Get up! Now!

9.30AM: Coffee please.

11.00AM: Mid term reviews. Poor sods.

11.30AM: Wake up and smell the coffeeeee!

2.00PM: At Uncle’s Dhaba again. The same aloo parathas. Still tastes yummy.

3.00PM: I need to remain awake.

4.00PM: Airline girl calls to inform that the flight is delayed.

4.30PM: They ask me to summarize the meeting. Why can’t they let me sleep??

5.00PM: Airline girl calls again to inform further delay. Shit!

6.00PM: The taxi guy suggests a different route.

6.30PM: The flight is delayed by another hour. Halleluiah!

6.45PM: Settle down with coffee (yuck!) at the waiting hall. The next lady is working a suduko and canoodling with someone over phone. ‘Coochie, what plan for tonight?’ Coochie????

6.50PM: Inward thinking. Exploring my raison d’etre. The ageless bond of a nameless relationship comes to mind. It ends up worrying a most important person in my life. Press the brake girl, before the other breaks.

7.10PM: Announcement for security check.

7.15PM: A gent cuts the queue and slinks to the spot before me grinning in self glory. If only looks could kill.

8.30PM: Bejeweled Bangalore tantalizes. Snaking traffic glitters like lusty sequin chains choking the city to a slow death.

8.45PM: Finally home soil.

8.50PM: Mad rush at the baggage conveyor. The earlier obnoxious gent stands guarding with his trolley the only gap in the sea of waiting people. How will I reach my stuff??

8.51PM: I spot my case. Request the airline personnel standing closest to help. He pulls out my case and hitches up the handle for me. ‘Oh! Last in first out!’ the pesky gent quips. Goodbye, Loser.

fish tail

I say thank God for the fish! I must have written earlier that I am fish fanatic. Oh yeah baby. I looove my fish! Fried, curried, sautéed, minced, diced, filleted. My friends called me sushi in college. I am particularly partial to fried fish of any dimension and origin served with no distracting garnishing. Cosmic soul mates if you may. The fish fried-just-right and ready for you on a platter and you inch forward with rising anticipation. Will it be soft inside or crunchy? Does it have a subtle flavour or a strong aroma? Is the texture smooth or coarse?

Therefore, Goa has been a dream, specially since Bangalore does disappoint true fish connoisseurs. Talking about Goa, it has this cool south asian eatery called Nation of Noodles, tucked away in Calangute. It’s rarely that one sees so many global cuisines jostling in roughly one square mile area as in Calangute. I am not a classic gourmet, but the falafel and bagel toast was one of the best I have had so far.

There have been many embarrassing moments but the top of the list still is the time I went shopping with my three year old in tow. Forum Mall Westside sale. Choc a block with people. I was rummaging through the foot ware sale while my boy walks up to me holding a ferarri red lacy bra from the neighbouring lingerie section and says, “Mommy's red?”

Sensing all eyes turning, I freeze. Then I try to play it down by ignoring and before I can quietly snatch away his prized possession he turns to the crowd and wraps the bra around himself and says, “For my Mommy”. Giggles are audible. Particularly from the men. I have a strong urge to disown. Finally I appeal to the sales lady who quickly plucks the ‘flame’ from his hand much to his dislike and motions to haul the pesky kid away. Since then, I have never taken him shopping except for regular stuff like candies and colour pens.

The entire Saturday was spent on getting my handwriting analyzed by an expert and later whiling away time with some of the funniest people I have met in a while.

The handwriting thingie (the cute employee engagement girl’s idea to pep up the office) didn’t reveal anything new (stubborn, persistent, rebellious, empathetic, imaginative blah blah) except the fact that I am also terribly sensitive, a fact I dispute vehemently. Damn! It’s not easy being a closet crybaby.

Later the same day, I met up with my best bud and his recently acquired pal. A few beers in Koshys turned out to be a laughathalon of the kind that leaves you smiling even after you reach home. All courtesy a techie from Goa with ambiguous sexual leaning and a straightforward sense of humour that makes him an extremely endearing company. So there we were talking about Hesse and Ishiguro, Goa and Nagaland all wrapped in a bizarre amusement that you can’t isolate or identify yet it settles in a happy cloud all around you.

And then we met a college mate of my pal who, refused to recognize him even after sitting at the table 2 feet away for over 45 minutes till another classmate walks in and smiles a hello. What followed was my pal getting besieged by his old mates, the kindest of whom said, “My God, what happened to you?” Cest la vie. Oh, one of the friends had baked absolutely delicious pastries that we gutted with delight. The drive back home was peaceful. Unlike happiness that leaves you empty when gone, this was strangely fulfilling. Thank you.

I Spy

Three air tickets of an airline to three different cities booked on the same day. The airline boy calls on her cellphone, “Madam, we are holding a booking on your name for Chennai, Mumbai and Goa on 19th. I called to confirm where have you decided to fly on that day?” WOW. This is it girl! Like in gangsta-movies. The pretty mole gives the airport cops a miss and zips to an unknown destination under alias. Tralalaa!

Cocking her right eye brow, Code Name Lithium purrs in her sexiest deep voice, “Ohhh, where do YOU want me to go, Darrling?”

Airline boy mumbles inaudible. Code Name Lithium smiles knowingly. Poor boy. An innocent victim of her fatal charm.

Trrrring. It’s the desk phone. The traveldesk girl calling to apologise for the goof up just when Code Name Lithium was warming up for her next sting. Sighh! The world isn’t ready for her yet. She slides back to her guise of a bored office-goer fighting to keep sleep at bay while waiting for the day she will reveal her true self.

valentine, victory and vermicelli

In the morning, got caught in massive traffic near Forum, Koramangala and decided to take the other route via Christ College which amounted to harakiri!

Result: late at work, rescheduled meeting and a sulky boss.

It’s mid day now and I am still struggling with a presentation and behind schedule for four calls and a dozen emails. But I have already managed to receive a few V day wishes, forward ten jokes, have five cups of coffee and upset my best buddy with my cynicism. (It was the coffee, I swear!).

Oh! If you are wondering about the title, it’s nothing significant. Just random words starting with V that came to my mind while I was fuming in traffic in the morning.

P.S. The cute girl from employee engagement team has distributed red paper hearts to all and asked us to write the name of the person whom you admire the most in office which will be tallied e.o.d. to rate popularity. Groan!

digging for gold

Despite this, we went for Fool’s Gold. My pal had seen the promo poster and thought he loves Kate Hudson in a black bikini. So this was making up for forcing him to grit and bear 1408 last week.

On the plus, beautiful locale. Beaches have never been my hot spot (I burn easily). But sitting in a near freezing theater, the Bahamas were the only thing warm.

Now, the only thing close to gold is Mathew’s hairless chest. Mathew’s personal trainer must be mighty proud since the entire storyline hinges on his shirtless chest! Bravo! As for chemistry, Tom Hanks and Wilson in Cast Away were hotter together than Mathew and Kate. So, you are adequately warned to keep the money in your pocket and not be tempted to buy the ticket. Oh! as for the bikini, there is just that, the bikini, and nothing else there. Grin.

It’s a wet cold typically grey Bangalore morning. Such mornings make her wish for someone special to curl up to with coffee and crossword. An emotional anchor. A polestar in her night sky of uncertainty. She misses a warm smile at waking. An occasional hug. Someone to say, ease up, I will take care of everything.

But these moments pass quickly. She knows a relationship isn’t for her. It has never worked. And a lot of it has to do with her. Her life had many dimensions and a relationship usually doesn’t survive all that for too long. So she has got used to her ‘alone but not lonely’ way and she isn’t unhappy. It’s just the trick of light in the morning that make her wistful.

The King and a room

“It’s an Evil fucking room” was the scariest line of 1408, the horror flick based on Stephen King’s novella. Before we could proceed through the movie, my best friend sank in his seat stuffing his fingers in his ears. I got busy watching Cussak, who was cute and my friend, whose expressions were cuter. Agreed, King isn’t for the faint hearted, but frankly, I am disappointed. I am a Stephen King fan. I love his books. They are what I call mind spook. They give me goosebumps. But I never liked any film adaptations of his novels. While Carrie was passable, Dreamcatcher was down right ugly!

Coming back to 1408, it has all the chills (literally!)and cheap thrills (bleeding walls, talking spirits, moving furniture, impaired electronics et al) but it wasn’t scary. Hell, even the entertainment quotient is just average. The cocky cute hero turns into a pathetic shivering jelly brain. That’s the essence of the storyline. I don’t know about my friend, but watching this wouldn’t keep me up in strange beds in strange hotel rooms when I am traveling.

learn to be still

It hasn’t been an easy week. The emotional roller coaster has been particularly nasty. One that leaves you queasy and makes you wanna throw-up. And throw-up she did, on friends and family who bore the brunt of it. She withdrew without any explanation from anything and everything that meant something to her. Her parents got worried that she sunk in books all day shunning meals to avoid dinner table conversation. She over heard her dad asking her mom, what’s the matter with her? Only Ro was relieved that she was not at his case like usual. Her best friend tried to help but she shut him out without an apology leaving him hurt and withdrawn. It was only at her work, where there is least emotional attachment that no one noticed anything different.

Now when she is done with her grieving, she began to notice the wrecks she left at the wake of her withdrawal. Her mom still looked sullen. Her dad seemed a little distant. Her best friend was remote and who can blame him. Thankfully, he hasn’t given up on her completely yet. It is only Ro who maintained normalcy going about his school talk just like any other day.

She feels guilty to have left her loved ones behind in her dive for inner quiet. Her ability to withdraw has always been retorted with anger and resentment. Unable to understand her stillness, Sanjay had called her an automaton. She didn’t feel bad then, knowing that his inherent inability to comprehend her, lies in his failure to understand the need for silencing the chorus in her head.

There are so many contradictions

In all these messages we send

How do I get out of here

Where do I fit in?

Though the world is torn and shaken

Even if your heart is breakin’

It’ waiting for you to awaken

And someday you will-

Learn to be still

-Eagles-

ostrich

The problem of getting in a shell is that when you emerge out of it ready to face the world, there’s no one waiting. It can get a little disorienting.

Oh no daarrling! We don’t have the time or inclination to wait up for you to work the cobwebs inside your head. There are way too many of them, love. Besides, we have enough of our own, no? So bury your head all you like, but bury it at your own risk pluzzee! And better not take it for granted that the world in general and people in particular would be waiting with a smile. Understand?

Hey you, I heard you don’t care. No one does. So why should you?

Hey you, don’t worry. I will get ’un-used’ to you.

Hey you, for the first time you made me angry. Earlier I just cried. Stupid me.

Hey you, got any idea of what I am going thorough? Nah. I will spare you the gore.

Hey you, I am through with giving. But I always have some to give you.

Hey you, I would have walked to the end of earth with you. Now I am too weary.

Hey you, I wanted you to appreciate me. But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Hey you, I wouldn’t grovel. Even a bitch deserves respect.

Hey you, thanks for caring. Cause once you did.

Hey you, I will always love you.

obscured...

It will be a low slow day. She just knows it. Loneliness always makes her lazy. But loneliness isn’t anything new to her. It’s her one true friend through life. And she likes it too. So why is it making her low suddenly? Maybe it’s the ‘Big girls don’t cry’ on radio on the way to work. Maybe it’s the 'Dark Waters' she watched late Sunday night. Maybe it is the gloomy stillness of the grey morning. Or maybe because she didn’t know why she hadn’t responded to her best friend’s message yesterday.

Inexplicable loneliness is something she is dealing with right now. Reminds her of the lines from a Floyd song.

Heaven sent the promised land.

Looks all right from where I stand.

Cause I'm the man on the outside looking in.

Waiting on the first step.

Show me where the key is kept.

Point me down the right line because it's time.

To let me in from the cold.

Turn my lead into gold.

Cause there's a chill wind blowing in my soul.

And I think I'm growing old.

plane speaking

Now, I am not as lucky as Reno, so despite warning from well wishers I decided to fly Indian (now known as Air India). If you travel often, you get used to flight delays which these days are as common as bird flu. You would be surprised if it wasn’t delayed. However, the shiny new airlines with their smiling young things inform and apologize for the delay. As customers, we have matured over the last decade and expect at least that much. No more are we ‘swalpa adjust maadi’ with the public sector’s apathy to service. So I wasn’t really prepared for the no-information policy of Air India. Customers shouldn’t be told of anything. It’s a favour we are doing by flying you dude…remember that. The wait was for over 90 minutes and this was after security check. While all other airlines announced the status of their flights, we were left to God’s mercy.

Then all of a sudden we were on the bus to be carted to the craft. But wait, the passengers need to be ‘sweated’ while the crew ambles about. A free sauna, anyone? So forty odd people were packed in a shabby bus and left at the tarmac sweltering in the hot sun. No information again. Some more time later we board the craft and see that the tyres were being changed. Fine, safety above all else. We are ok with that. People all around me got busy on the phone to re-schedule all previously arranged appointments. One young man kept spewing fs and bs, as if that’s going to help any. But I guess all the airline personnel were his dad’s age and he was probably reluctant to take up the service issues with them. See, how the older retirement age works in their favour. Anyway, finally we took off smoothly. Thank you.

Mid-air the pilot apologized for the delay blah blah. Caged in an aluminum tinbox, thirty thousand feet above ground, there’s nothing much one can do but ignore the apology. Along came the food. Of course you don’t have a choice, we have only vegetarian. No thank you. I usually avoid airline food. But the man sitting across the aisle quickly asked, can I have hers? From the look of him, he didn’t look hungry, but what do ya know. Fine, I relax in my seat happy that I was alone in the three-seater.

But it didn’t last long. A young lady, with a new born infant in her arms asked me to move to the window seat. Just asked. No reason. No request. I move to the window quickly sensing her impatience. She settled at my aisle seat and turned towards my window and started suckling her baby. I suppose I was gaping. Not at her mammary but at the sheer ease with which she did it. I am a mother and I support breast feeding. But this was such a smooth operation. Quite like a FBI agent pulling a gun out of the holster in a TV show. Impressive. I was left with little choice but to look out at the toneless azure outside the window while the baby chuckled with delight. I am convinced that is a boy and thus begins his life long fascination with this particular woman’s appendage. Oh I am such a boor!

Anyway, coming back to the flight, we reached safely only to wait out at the tarmac once again after deplaning for another aircraft to take off before we could walk to the terminal building. But for the first time in my life, my baggage was the first to arrive on the conveyor. Halleluiah!

empty spaces...

On the drive to work I was listening to a popular radio channel where the RJ was quizzing the listeners about space. You know, Space...The Final Frontier...zzzoooooppp! This was good, I thought. Finally they are talking about something sensible, instead of how to make your boyfriend jealous etc etc. Hope dies soon enough though. Ok Ok! Here are a few answers for you to decide whether Bangalore tops in the number of bozos per square kilometer.

RJ: What is a satellite?

Caller 1: Hmmm…it’s like the cable TV! (Whaaaat the @#%?)

Caller 2: Well….satellites are these space thingies that go round and round I think.

RJ: What is an orbit?

Caller 1: chewing gum!!! (O-M-G!)

Caller 2: Orbits are lines around which planets go round. (Dude??!!!)

RJ: What are asteroids?

Caller 1: They kill people…I don’t know how. (Shit#$$%)

Caller 2: Rocks in space…you know…they are parts of something huge I guess..

People! Wake up! I wanted to scream. But well it’s the radio you know, and no matter how much you scream at it, it just screams back with more giggles from the lady RJ. Before I smashed my radio, thankfully they switched to John Mayer’s Your Body is a Wonderland.

update

It has been a tumultuous weekend. I was on the rollercoaster interfacing a sequence of actions that I could not grasp fully or react wholly. It’s like watching a movie with finger pressed in fast forward. It didn’t help to have Neelum Saran Gour’s Sikandar Chowk Park for distraction. It is a good book (I am sure) but the doses of desperation, despondency and decay require an equally conducive mental frame which was unfortunately missing. So I shall withhold my comment on the book till I read it completely in a more amicable mood.

I also spent my time doing a ‘housing project’ for Ro’s school assignment. He had wanted to make a tree house while I was telling him the merits of a tent (which is a far easier to make). Finally, we settled on a less complicated apartment block only to realize that he wanted a swimming pool and garden to go with it. So Sunday afternoon was spent shaping tricky thermacol sheets (you would know the pain if you have ever tried it!), colouring them suitably and pasting them with precision. It has been a long while since I have done this and unapologetically my back gave up before we could complete. Groan!

I spoke with someone after 18 months and we managed to have a civil conversation. This was uplifting in a strange way. This, promises to end a part of the acrimony that has been there for years now. We both have our guards up still but with time and dialogue we may learn to trust each other a little. In the process, I gave up things that hold some meaning. I learnt to let go too. With a new beginning, things would probably have more perspective than before now that we have to share responsibilities. The lessons from the past 10 years have been:

Never compromise on basic values.

Don’t be led by emotion alone.

Ensure you are heard when things are not right.

Don’t sulk. It achieves nothing.

No one can appease everybody. So don’t sacrifice yourself for greater good. There is no such thing.

Martyrdom isn’t a sure shot way to sainthood.

Have the balls to take tough decisions even when it hurts and don’t be afraid to be the bad guy.

who me?

We were having lunch on Saturday, when she said “You look like you party hard!” This caught me by surprise. I don’t exactly look the type. No, really I don't. I prefer solitary activities like reading and am pretty orthodox with my music, plus I am zero on fashion trends. Not your stereotypical party animal eh!? I wanted to ask her what gave her that impression. But I hardly know her to get into that kind of intimacy. Perhaps I should have asked. Just to be able to understand how the world at large views me. It’s not that I consciously cultivate many avatars, but they seem to exist nevertheless.

we are like that only

The band was there. So were the twinkling lights and cameras, the little black dresses and the sequin sarees, the many hued cocktails and the fine scotch, meandering conversations and the mandatory 'siren' kids. It was my school alumni dinner.

Met a few batchmates, but remembered none. A few business cards but not a single familiar face. We talked about teachers and their pet peeves. We talked about secret crushes and hated bullies. We lived nostalgia.

Moment of the night: When the MC mentioned that ours was and still is the biggest school is Asia, Ro turns back open mouthed and looks at me with new respect.

Let down of the night: When S introduced a batchmate and he tom-tomed his superior ranking in our much-hated school practise of academic segregation. "Ohh!I was in D2", he said dismissingly. Everyone knows that D1 and D2 were supposed to be the 'brains' and their combatic spirit could easily put Ponting to shame. They were bred to be snooty, pompous, egotist fools whom the rest of us hated with zeal. Meeting one such specimen after so long brought back that odium. "Ohh! how nice. You must be in Microsoft's board by now. I heard a few from D1 has made it there." Bite me if you must, but I couldn't let him walk away with glee. Typically I am not such a bitch but some people just inspire.

A little more smiles and small talk over dinner. Then batch photos. A few byes and goodnights. Finally it was over.

This was my first concious effort to work on renewing old contacts and a promise made this year to network better.

The last two days I was in a city that I am getting to dislike immensely. With every visit the resentment grows. My disappointment stems from a couple of factors. (OK I AM biased and you can call me a bigot!)

Their regional pride nothwithstanding, the average man on the street is positively rude to visitors and hold the unreasonable expectation that he/she should know the local language. The autorickshaw drivers are known egotists. And this rule holds true in all Indian cities that have this species. But here, they are absolutely the best in class. First, they wouldn’t run their meters (I wonder why they even have them!) and anywhere in the city would cost in multiples of fifty, irrespective of the physical distance. 1 km = Rs.50/-. 2 kms = Rs.100/- (if he likes you!) so on and so forth. One fellow tells me that under ordinary circumstances he would charge Rs.50/; but since the route to my destination has traffic snarls, he would charge me 30% more. I asked him whether because of the traffic, the distance to the place has increased? Or, should I ask my destination to move to a less congested road? Or, should I visit my destination ONLY when the road is empty? This of course had no effect on him since he feigns to not comprehend my language. At this point, I actually stomp my feet to the amusement of the people standing at the nearby bus-stop. Finally, I get to where I had to go after a little drama and giving in to the fellows demands.

The city has no ‘josh’. Absolutely none. If one wishes to go and shake a leg or chill out, the options are limited unless you want to get stared at and share your space with locals who wear more gold on person than what my entire family owns. This is applicable to both genders. And I am not kidding. I had a co-passenger on my flight, who had all his fingers encased in gold. By gold I mean rings that are large enough to make the metal detector go crazy. Then he had a bracelet which was as thick as the steel pylon they use to hang suspension bridges. Then a necklace of equal thickness. Finally, he flashed a gold coloured Nokia! When we walked towards the terminal gate after disembarking, El Dorado walked with us shining like the second Sun. I was very tempted to ask him if I can take a picture with him but chickened out.

Last evening an old acquaintance who met after five years said “You haven’t changed!” I wanted to ask him what changes were he expecting! But thought it would rude.

identity crisis and the loss of fame....

One of the highpoints of my visit to Hampi was being mistaken for a bengalee singing diva :)

We noticed that after the first day at the hotel, the service was exceptional. We barely entered the restaurant to have a host of service persons and the restaurant manager attending to our every need. They insisted on reserving our preferred table for every meal. My father was very impressed. He reveled in it and assigned it to his ability to befriend the ‘common man’(by which he means all living things!). This constant repetition of his celebrated PR skills peeved my mother no end. Every meal would begin with sermons on PR and “This is what all of you should develop as a life skill” and some such phrases. We all give him his due for he has been a ‘sales guy’ all his life, but his cheshire grin and self glory was getting a little out of hand and I feared an impending rejoinder from my mother that would quickly spiral things out of control.

But help came from the most unexpected quarter. On the last day of our stay, two of our regular waiters came to me with a note book asking me to give my autograph. Stunned, we all turn towards the now grinning duo. They call me by the celebrity’s name. My mother is the first to recover. “No she isn’t her, they just look similar”, she says suppressing a laugh. Ro isn’t going to give up so easily. “Sign it anyways Mommy” he whispers audibly nudging me a little. All this while I am trying to figure out what is the politically correct reaction. I decide that a polite smile would be the best in the situation. Realizing their mistake, the waiters leave apologizing shyly. My mother turns to my father and says, “So much for your PR skills!” Ro is openly gaping at my father’s face, waiting for a reaction that could immensely add to the morning’s entertainment. But is disappointed when my father passes the bait and goes back to his egg and toasts. I am grateful that we were spared a life long session of sermons. Breakfast done, we reach the car. Robbed of my 5 seconds of ‘almost fame’ I must have looked a little sad. Ro hugs me and says, “It’s OK Mommy. You are not that fat” Sharp kid this.