Saturday, April 28, 2007

the single most important resource for the single woman

It's not pepper spray. It's not self defence lessons. It's not contraceptives. It's a small book called "He's just not that into you." I know it came out like a long time ago. But I recently rediscovered this little gem that promises to set single women free(from the typical inscrutable male, 28, single). So there's no more misunderstanding signals or wondering if he's really so busy putting paper clips to paper that he can't dial a number or whether 'i'll call you' means you should call. If you're a guy reading this and wondering whether even smart, successful, independent women who run businesses and give birth to septuplets could be so obsessive, well yea...Therefore if you know any of your women friends who're agonising no end over some weak signals from a particular mars-inhabitant, gift them this book. It will set them free.

p.s. I do read other good books.

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

the wrong side of 25

yep..i've heard it's downhill from here...i've even received a solicitation to join a 'single women over 25' club who among other things hire male strippers (yea..its that kinda club). So there's 18-25 and there's 25- to eternity, it doesn't matter.
On the brighter side, i'll probably pass for someone younger. Ok the inflation should be a more pressing worry, but you know what..the man-of-the-moment-reddy is taking care of that. So if i don't worry for me, who will.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

me and the irrational fear of dogs

They may look really harmless and cute...i know that pups aren't the scariest things but there's something really unpredictable about dogs( they're like men you could say). One never knows when they'll decide to follow you, or sneak up on you, or jump up on you. Personally I've not been bitten by one, but well don't let the cuteness fool you. And beware of dogs in packs, the most docile of dogs(yea even the li'l ones with squeaky barks) turn fiesty in a pack. It's usually difficult to identify the leader in the pack, but the one that barks the loudest will most probably not be it (The one that barks loudest will probably be the littlest one, that's his chance of glory you see).
I'm sure my ramblings on this subject have contributed enough diversion to your day. More on mountain dogs vs city dogs soon.

Monday, April 16, 2007

what isb does to you...

makes you realise that 24 hours is a long time so when you get back to normality you create work to fill time
makes you want to talk to strangers and smile at them more often
makes you want to read the newspaper to figure out if news makes more sense
makes you...spoilt...rotten
makes you want to work on a holiday
gives you energy you did not know you were capable of
makes you want to make something...even out of confusion and uncertainty

Saturday, April 14, 2007

the truth about stereotypes

So if I'm a Delhi girl, I must be snooty, pricey, wear brands, take exceptional care of my hair and feet, look as if I just walked out of a movie set, and be generally air headed. If I were to know the name of our foreign minister, that'd be jaw-dropping. A Bangalore person(girl mostly; men who conjure stereotypes really don't care about men) has to love rock (this one infuriates me, don't know why), be fiercely independent, extremely opinionated, not care much about her appearance, yet look like a study in casuals, a little aggressive etc etc. A Bombay girl must be ultra chilled out, posh without seeming so, a little pretentious, and a general know-how about the world around her (desirable), with a proclivity for white trousers(? or is that Delhi?). So you get my drift...All generalisations are about one or two people we know. I could name all of these women(and a man) above. As with all stereotypes, they help me simplify a lot of people by labelling them, yet at the same time, I resent any such simplistic attempts to categorise me.

Friday, April 13, 2007

the new man in my life

He's a bad boy, with the most impish smile and deepest, darkest eyes. He gets an insane amount of energy, in his own words, from "hi-tech" sources. He's moody as hell, and possessive to the hilt; loves my hair and won't leave my side. If I spurn him, he'll have his revenge. Yet, something about him is so endearing that I can't be mad at him. I think it is the moment he decides to smile shyly. He doesn't know it yet, but he's the new man in my life. He's all of six years old, but again, aren't they all?

the difficult task of comprehending other people's poetry

Whenever somebody asks me to read a piece of poetry they wrote, I instantly panic inside. Even though it is exceedingly difficult to understand poetry, when the author is beseechingly by your side to see you figure it out, it is completely nightmarish. I feel like I'll be judged for every wrong assessment or the symbolism that I mostly fail to understand. Some people have a knack for it, I confess I don't. And it hurts me more to see the author flinch when I get it wrong, hoping against the vain hope that I will eventually see their point. So now I ask for more time, and accost seemingly literary people with a penchant for riddles/puzzles/conundrums to help me out.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

more tembblles!!

I'm actually beginning to enjoy it now. As long as the sultry weather doesn't bother me, my cousins are keeping me good company. You can't take a temple out of a south indian, even if you make her a buddhist. There's something very reassuring about the southern cities, maybe it's the jasmine.
I'm falling in love with Hyderabad too; the faint namaz sounds, the rain drenched streets at dusk, the trees and the narrow lanes, the south-indian houses with kolams and wrought iron gates, the endless rows of jasmine, the bustle of the evening bazaar, the mamis, the chai shops, the paan with coconut and cherries, the polluted roads, the beautiful sight at night of the whole city from the sloping roads at Banjara Hills, the rocks, the temples. I'm glad I'm here. Now.

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

travelling to appease parents, gods and others who might have had a role to play in my successful graduation!

It is so damn hot!! And the bus to Shirdi is a little uncomfortable too, my legs keep hanging off the seats. Even for a small person, I can't fit in really well. Endless queues to see a very calm and collected saint. Contrast with my hyper parents who want to get the best darshan possible. They get older, but not less energetic. I have to bear my mum's constant nudging to inch closer to the person in front and look out for dad who's run away miles ahead like a little pumpkin. In between, I catch a glimpse of the really benign saint.
A blind girl is deftly handing out change for Rs 100. She feels all the notes before handing them out.
In the evening, the dusk falls and dims out the lights. I arrive in the morning to the sounds of mridangam and nadaswaram from the nearby temple. Somehow it feels home.

Monday, April 9, 2007

Graduation day

It started with me fixing my really large graduation gown which threatened to make me look entirely ridiculous. After a long wait by Mr. Montek-Planning-Commission-Valia, endless speeches sputtered with the GDP, growth rate and other significant figures and hardly any personal touches, I finally collected the fake certificate. Forgot to smile at the camera however. (Dad was most upset.)
The evening was curiouser. I lost the very thing that I had been running for department after department - the final exit form with no dues from everyone who mattered. Some more running around to fix the mess. It takes just one really big idiot to screw the process. In this case, it was me. Spoke to the really really sweet ISB staff who promised to make it easy for me. And they did too.
The founders lounge had a lot of visitors that night, including a very dazed and preoccupied me. Should've visited the nirvana rock too. Maybe barbecue by the construction lights again..
Said goodbyes in a numb way. The year has come to an end really. No more strolling around at 4 a.m., no more tea at 2 in the night, no more of that campus.