Err.. your point is?

She - I am totally getting in shape to wear a sexy costume on Halloween.
He - But, there are only two months to.

Success tip

"If your team wants to go for a game, NEVER EVER be a spoilsport and say that you don't want to go. What baseball? Football? Even if you don't know anything about these American sports, you should still DEFINITELY go."

By The Water Cooler

One of my favorite bloggers, Parul, also an author, is holding a CONTEST! (trying to match her excitement when she mentions it in her posts) and is giving away copies of her second book, By the Water Cooler. I am usually not one for contests, even fun ones, but this topic is just too irresistible for me. I mean, I quote Office Space in my sleep, sometimes. So, here's my entry:

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When I joined my first job after graduation, I was mostly unprepared for the corporate environment and did not know what to really, really expect. And, I don't mean the actual work. You know what I mean. What I found the most incredible was the sycophancy. Agreed that it was an off-shore development center of a huge US-based multinational company and keeping your on-site superiors might be important, but still... Let me give you a couple of examples.

Example #1. On one crisis management conference call (in my opinion, only people dying or similar constitutes a crisis, not a few online transactions failing, but that is not the point in question), the onsite manager, Anoop, was letting off steam.

Anoop: This crisis was entirely avoidable. Absolutely no reason why it should have happened except for sheer negligence.
Sycophantic Team Lead (STL): Soor, Anoop. (His favorite phrase in the entire world. I had heard it countless times already and of course, Anoop must have heard it more than that.)
Anoop: I am positive this can be fixed in :ridiculous-quantum-of-time:. Now, don't..
STL (interrupting): Soor, Anoop.
Anoop: Well, and when this fix is dropped in production, please make sure the other required changes are not reversed as well.
STL: Soor, Anoop.
Anoop (exasperated): And, STL, will you please STOP saying, "Soor, Anoop"?
STL: Soor, Anoop.

Example #2. Another crisis management conference call. This call had been going for hours but the issue was just not getting fixed, since it required more working brain cells than were available at 4AM. The time had come for drastic action and the onsite Executive Director logged on to the conference call and was asking for updates from the onsite manager. Sycophantic Team Lead Wannabe, STLW, messaged me separately and told me how this was the greatest opportunity to shine, how he was so not going to let the moment pass, how it was important to work not just hard but also smart, basically hinting that I should learn from his example. He piped up.

STLW: Omar, I have been looking into ABC module... ramble, ramble... I am positive it is just a minor but critical issue when XYZ happens.... so on and so forth... and I think I will have it under control in a matter of minutes, blah blah blah blah.
Omar: Who is this?
STLW (mildly upset that his voice was not recognized but still glad that he was not arbitrarily mistaken for someone else): STLW.
Omar: Excellent. I am going to be on this call till this issue is fixed (remember, it was early afternoon for him) and I don't want you leaving till then. Thank you.

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PS: I was also not expecting to see a whirlwind romance unfold right in front of my eyes. Yeah, two of my teammates fell in love (one was in India, the other in US) through only VoIP calls and met for the first time when he came down to India only a couple of days before they got married secretly. But, that is more like the story line of a 1990's movie rather than your everyday office goings-on, so I will let that rest.

That time of the year

To appease my neglected blog, I decided to give her a mini makeover. And, Pumpkin spice by Shabby Blogs is my pick. One of the primary reasons I have neglected my blog is that I have been by myself for a while now (ditcher!) and am going to be for some more time, with a short break of a couple of days in between. While ridiculously funny people write hilarious posts about such a situation, I have been sulking in the corner. However, to celebrate the break from being the Solitary Reaper (tuneless, albeit) and actively enjoy my favorite season of all, I made an apple pie. After all, what better way to kindle someone's guilt than stuffing them with buttery, apple-spicy goodness?

For someone who doesn't even like rain all that much

I L*O*V*E this song. It never fails to cheer me up.

When I was a little girl (and not so little, as well), I mostly got around the city by bus. When the bus stopped at signals, I got a fair view of the surrounding cars. I was always fascinated by the people in the cars (in my mind, extremely rich and hence leading a great life). Sometimes, it used to be obvious that the couple (in their twenties, dressed nicely, etc) would be apparently arguing or looking like they weren't talking with each other and I used to wonder, what on earth is making them fight? I mean, WHY would they need to fight?

I think now I know.

After I typed this, I realized this post in combination with the previous sounds bad! But they are completely unrelated.

Thought for the day

Your bad choices will catch up with you.

No, I don't have a point.

I saw this on the back of the new Chelsea Handler novel hardcover edition, "Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang": On living with her boyfriend - "He's like a big toddler, the difference being, he does not cry when he wakes up."

One of the really cool things in the US is how you can pick up a book and read it (obviously without paying for it) in book stores like Barnes and Noble or Borders. I don't know if you can do that in India. Can you? Ironically, I have not done that here as much as I would have liked to, in a previous avatar. You see, I cannot read a book when I do not feel, for lack of a better word, good. I used to gobble up books back when I was in school, the numbers dipped dramatically when I was in college (undergrad), and the average over the last few years has become embarrassingly low. I am not much of a movie or TV person (though I did get to watch The Big Bang Theory, some parts of Season 1 on DVD a couple of days ago and L.O.V.E it), I have been too *word-that-I-don't-want-to-use* to keep in touch with people and currently, I don't have the resources to do what I love: trips, long drives, hikes, treks and outdoors-y stuff in general. Is it just me or does everyone feel that when you really want to do something, some component to it is out of reach at all points of time? So, when people ask me what I do for fun/in my free time (har har), I am at a loss for words. I hate saying, oh you know, reading, because just about everyone reads and unless you are a voracious reader, it is really not worth mentioning. And, a lot of times, I don't even have a book that I am currently reading. When I took a moment to really think about what I do to kill time, this is what I ended up with:

* Reading blogs. Not varied in terms of genre. And, I re-read stuff a lot.

* Walking. Not the exercise kind of walking. I just amble along at my usual pace for hours.

* Fantasizing. No, really. Sometimes, I loathe the absolute waste of time but sometimes it is like I am living in a parallel universe, so there is really no waste of time, if you know what I mean.

And, this is where I drew a blank. That's it. Wow, if this is all I do, all I can say is wow. I wonder if this is not a chicken or egg problem, you don't do much, there are fewer things to do. True to its nature, I am sure I don't know how to break out of this vicious cycle (though I think I am motivated enough to pick up the afore mentioned novel this weekend).

Since this post so far is just refusing to logically lead to show how low I am feeling exactly, I have to start over with this self-derogatory statement: I have never felt fatter or more (or less?) unaccomplished, than I am feeling right now. Or, older for that matter. The last part is understandable, since today is the day I have no choice but to start to state that I am twenty seven years old, wherever necessary (which, come to think of it, is actually not a bad number, after all, I am not going to be some-number-cubed years old for a long time, if at all. Additionally, while I go three cubed this year, my nephew goes three squared. Yeah, there is a reason I like the Big Bang Theory).

I had thought of several posts that I wanted to write yesterday, I even have a couple of drafts, but none of that feels true. The only overarching feeling I have right now is that: I might not have all that I want (or even need), I might have taken more than my share of bad decisions, but I am sure that if I had not done what I have, I would have always wondered what life might have been like, if only.. Sure, I could feel that way even now but I don't. Does that mean something's right now, unlikely though that seems to me, when I am not in a reflective mood? I realize I start off quite a few posts (drafts if not published) full of despair but somehow as I type away, it feels like the world is not coming to an end, after all, though, of course, the problems don't go away. So, is a little perspective all that it took? Or am I distracted by the actual writing (thinking of words, sentences etc)? Or am I subconsciously chickening out at the thought of baring all?

One time assignment

I had this dream last night. Unlike most other dreams, I actually remember this one (or at least most of it).

I am working for a Professor whom I have never met before, even in the dream! Yeah, I know, but I work for him still. I am going to his office to fill out my time sheet. Here's where the fun starts. I am wearing only a towel, as though I just got out of the shower. He is also wearing only a towel (in his office, which has a shower attached). But, he is clearly more modest than I am and slips on a polo shirt. Then I realize he resembles someone I went to college with, a lot. That someone does not have a brother, so I ask him if he has a cousin named X. He says, yes, and how do I know him? I tell him that we went to college together and could he please refrain from mentioning that I turned up in a towel to meet him? Please? After all, I just thought I was going to fill out the time sheet and leave immediately, so what was the need to dress up anyway? And, most annoyingly, he says, yeah, that was not a good thing you did. Hmmmph. I am that unattractive? Damn. End of dream.

Notes:
1. I do work for an Assistant Professor, though the real one is a Turkish man, not the one in the dream. And, no, I do NOT fancy him. Or, X, for that matter.
2. One never has to fill out the sheet in the Professor's office.
3. No professor's office has a shower attached.
4. My towel kept slipping A.L.L. the time.

Wannabe Freudians? Anyone? Want to take a shot at interpreting this?

Hmmm ...

The last couple of days have been really dull (I am determined to not use the big D word) and I haven't really been doing much. However, hunger tends to catch up with me (NEVER with him).

July 14th.

Me - Hey, can you cook a Maggi for me, please? Please?
He - Naaah, I don't feel like it.

I was kind of expecting it and decided to overlook it. Didn't say a s.i.n.g.l.e word about it.

July 15th.

Me (clearly, looking for character building stuff) - Hey, can you cook a Maggi for me, please?
He - I am doing {insert-bull-shit}. I need to go to {insert-somewhere} in a few minutes.

I feel smug in a masochistic way and get back to my mindless surfing, sprawled on the bed, with the door locked. A few minutes later -

{Knock on door} Did you want one Maggi?

On July 11th, I crossed a milestone. I completed 9 years of being an aunt. And God knows how much I have evolved as one. I started out as a selfish, I-couldnt-care-less-about-anything-or-anyone-that-is-not-awesome-freaking-me teenager and hopefully, I have come a long way. To celebrate (albeit from a remote location), I made rasgollas, lachedar parathas with Orissa style gobi ki subzi, all of which tasted pretty good. I should technically link to these recipes which were very well-written and helpful but I am too lazy to ask the blog owners for permission and wait for their approval before I can post (I am already a couple of days past 11th, after all). I can always update the post.

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

It's not my intent to hammer the same old dead horse but I must say one more thing about rotis. It is almost as if the universe conspired to prove to the novice roti maker (obviously not the device, in case you are tempted to mention that) that the adage, "Practice makes perfect" may have some meaning after all.

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

Oh, and did you check this out? I thought it was pretty cool. What say? In case this has been making the rounds for a while now and I made a fool of myself by bringing it up now.. well, I have done worse.

The tag that spread like wild fire.. and more.

I read a lot of blogs and over the last few days, I have seen so many posts on the sins against gender stereotypes. In the very unlikely case you don't know what I am talking about - it is a tag to list down the things that your gender is generally expected to do, that you do NOT do.

It was fun reading all the "un-womanly" things a lot of ladies like to do and I could relate to a lot of what these interesting people said, be it loving motorcycles, avoiding makeup and jewelry, preferring hard drinks over wine/cocktails, being okay with explicit jokes, going to the movies or eating out alone, willing to take on physical challenges, etc, etc.

But then, I also got thinking about why some things are even gender stereotyped. I guess because a significant number of us actually enjoy those. As for me, I am perfectly happy toeing the line in these ways: reading chick-lit, cooking, letting the menfolk take care of logistic trivialities, analyzing the crap out of relationships, thinking one can never have too many handbags or shoes and that the only thing better than chocolate is... more chocolate, window shopping, mall hopping, talking on the phone for hours, etc, etc.

Good thing is I apparently do all of this in moderation because I have never been accused of being 'girly' or of being a tomboy all the time, maybe one of the two at different points.

As the title of the post indicates, that is not all (duh). Honestly speaking, all these activities, "un-womanly" and otherwise have their respectable place in society. However, there is a lot of stigma attached to other things, which is quite unwarranted (in my opinion) since I find those to be perfectly acceptable too. No, no - I am not talking about controversial issues like pre-marital sex, abortion, euthanasia, same sex marriage and such stuff. I am only talking about simple, everyday stuff. For example,

* Not thinking that maa ke haath ka khaana is the best and nothing can outperform that. My mom is a fantastic cook and it is my greatest hope that I will take after her in this department. But the thing is, I refuse to gush over it or say that no restaurant or no one can ever beat that. Because that is just not true. People like their mothers' food because it is what they grew up eating; they are used to it and hence are comfortable with it. But say that out loud, and people say - ooh, someone's so high and mighty that she doesn't like home cooked food anymore. Huh?

* Not deluding babies with hugs, kisses and baby talk. I like kids and think they are great fun. But, I refuse to forcibly smother them with 'love', talking gibberish all the while. In fact, most kids voluntarily talk/babble to me and indicate their willingness to be carried by me, and this, I believe, is simply because I let them be and do not insist on making them uncomfortable. However, a lot of people are not happy to see that I am not gearing up to be all over their kids.

* Complaining about something that your folks do. I, of course, do not imply that washing one's dirty linen in public is acceptable. I am just talking about things that reasonable people can disagree with and things that are not intensely private/personal in nature. The very same people who do not mind getting vitriolic about their in-laws turn around and judge you if you have any difference of opinion with your parents. Your parents are as human as your in-laws (who, incidentally, are someone's parents as well). It is only natural that your parents are not infallible. And, you, as a rational human being, should be able to disagree with them without being considered a horrible person.

In the same vein, people clamor for privacy. But if someone says living with their parents is tough, somehow, that is not looked upon with favor. I believe it is challenging for two different generations to co-exist in the same house, mainly because of their disparate lifestyle choices, if not more reasons, even if they happen to be one's parents.

This attitude is mainly the offshoot of people mistakenly believing that complaining about your parents implies you do not love them. Gasp. Is it so hard to believe that one might not agree with every single thing one's parents say or might want to have one's own pad and yet love the parents like mad?

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Okay, I previewed this post and it basically reads like my brain farted. Before I am tempted to add to this mish-mash, I am going to bite the bullet and hit 'Publish Post'.

Oh, and by the way, have you ever felt the same way about any of these things (or some others) or am I the only one seeing these white elephants?

You know it's a brand new month..

when your rent, utilities, phone and internet bills are due.. yesterday. BAH!

On an unrelated note, I watched the movie, "Marley & Me" yesterday. One guy quoted Mark Twain - "You should never use exclamation points in your writing because it is like laughing at your own joke." Wonder what MT would have to say about smileys.

On being underemployed...

Other than the very unpalatable idea of not doing what you are really qualified to do, underemployment has some salient quirks about it, not all of which are negative (I know, incredible) -

* Just because your job doesn't deserve you, you cannot very well show up at work in your PJs and slippers. Getting up and ready for work feels that much more difficult (not worth the effort) but it is also good that you have to, otherwise you never might.

* It is actually irritating if you get a task that requires you to use your brain. Hey, if you want all this jazz, pay up!

* You don't feel guilty about doing non-work related things at office - checking your personal email, chatting, taking a coffee break, etc. Similarly, you don't feel the need to exceed expectations.

* Every day, you wonder if your time could not be put to better use.

* Every time you think you have made up your mind to quit and look for a real opportunity, someone or something will remind you that it is always better to be somekindofemployed other than un.

* Most lunch options irritate you - Bah, for the peanuts I make, I am actually having to spend money on this fancy pants lunch.

* You don't care to hide the fact that you are actively seeking other opportunities.

* Filling out time sheets feels strangely depressing. Oops, that's one more week.

* You think thrice before getting that ridiculously over-priced Starbucks mocha to satisfy your entirely ignorable, mid-afternoon caffeine drenched chocolate craving. In fact, you skip it on most days. Good for the wallet and the body. Tastes even better on the days you do buy it. Win-win-win situation.

* Your boss is actually nicer to you than he probably would be if he were paying you what you deserve (to be fair to him, this is just a logical deduction - I am, obviously, comparing him to other bosses I have had in the past). It's almost as if he knows that the money is not enough to keep you if anything else pisses you off.

* There is no need to participate in office politics. Meetings are really to the point. There is no pressure to make an impression on the 'right' people. Sweet.

All in all, it is a mixed bag. Just like... about everything else.

Murphy lives on..

Rohini's hilarious post got me to come up with this one (though her tag is about the ironies of motherhood, I couldn't resist). Oh, and I big pink sparkly heart lists.

1. The first few units of weight gain happen in the body part you are most touchy about. For me, it is the first few ounces that get deposited on my face in the disgusting form of a double chin, making me look like I put on about 50 lbs when I can still fit in all of my old clothes.

2. Starting the day you decide to go for a jog every single day, it rains cats and dogs every single day till you forget your original resolution or lose your motivation, whichever happens first.

3. You see :insert-packet-of-some-ingredient: in the fridge every time you open the fridge and resolve to use it to make :insert-appropriate-dish: some time soon (you are already in the midst of making something else). One fine day, you actually decide to use that ever present ingredient to find that it has disappeared. And you just cannot fathom how.

4. You write a post full of despair and angst towards him and save it in your drafts meaning to publish it when you are feeling a little less resentful and a little more rational, when he springs a surprise on you with a very touching gesture. Shamefacedly, you delete the draft. All too soon, he infuriates you again making you scream in your head that all you had said in your aborted post is true and you should have published it after all.

5. When you are in the mood to simply rant, he plies you with solutions and suggestions. When you ask for his tactical advice, he tells you to do whatever you feel like or worse, "I don't know."

6. When your parents express concern about how they think you are not eating well at all from what you tell them, you reassure them forcefully that you are never going to be mistaken for a Somalian refugee. They now take a U-turn and ask you to be mindful of the problems associated with weight gain.

7. He hates eating out as much as you love it. You finish cooking but call to ask him if we could go out, fully expecting him to refuse and give you mental brownie points for not making a fuss. He asks you to pick the restaurant.

8. After over two years of living in Texas, you finally resign yourself and give up asking him to try Tex-Mex (tacos, burritos, etc) when he points out at a buffet how people are having rajma, chawal, salsa, avocado, cheese, what not wrapped in this roti-like thing, how he thinks it is pretty neat and we should definitely have it again.

9. Your good friend is a movie buff and you have opted out after about thirty minutes of several movies you try to watch together. One day, you resolve to be nice to her and sit through the end of the movie though you get so bored that you cannot even feel your brain seeping out of your ears. As the ending credits roll, she tells you how she couldn't cut short the one movie that you seemed to like, though she couldn't stand the movie herself.

10. To force feed yourself recommended amount of iron, you buy fortified cereal to find out that iron does not get absorbed if you consume it with calcium.

11. The day you decide to stay off something (ice cream, chocolate, chips, fries, anything) is the day it just decides to make itself available in copious amounts.

12. You find something ironic about so many things every day that it is not even funny after a point and you think it is going to be a breeze coming up with a list and then you find out that it takes forever and finally you give up.

Learning from experience

Background info: My mother is well above the average age of mothers of someone my age (did that make sense?) She has undergone five abdominal surgeries under general anesthesia (the thought of which sends shivers down my spine) - two C-sections and three hernias, very painful ones at that.

I have a lot to learn from her, from her calm, loving ways. Her even temperament in the face of volatility. *insert all other motherly virtues that you are in awe of - which, unfortunately, don't form the point of this post* One thing I have definitely learned from her already is to learn from experience and consider feedback from loved ones, which, if it is not obvious, she does NOT do.

I would dearly like to call my attempts at communicating with my mother challenging. But, if I wanted to be honest, I couldn't call it that. Maybe it was, ages ago. But not any more. It can only be called painful. Or anything else used to refer to a fruitless, excruciatingly long exercise. Though it sounds like we are probably not on the same wavelength because of age difference, that is not the case. Funnily enough, it has never been the case. When I was younger and people sometimes mistook her for my grandmother, I always thought that it was no big deal. She was fun (we are both the types who like doing our own thing in companionable silence) and we could connect. Until recently, when age, genetics and effects of anesthesia came together to pull us apart (OK, I am being melodramatic but I swear it is hard).

She has gotten TERRIBLY hard of hearing. This has been part of our lives for quite a while now but I realize exactly how bad it is, when we are away from each other and phone is the only means of communication between us. (She is not internet savvy and cannot email, chat, skype and such things.) Now, if your only exposure to people who are hard of hearing is through desi movies where the said person mistakes words for similar sounding and completely out of context words, you probably don't even realize how lucky you are. I know that seems to be scrapping the bottom of the luck barrel, but then you don't have to go through these -

* there are times when she just does not hear ANYTHING. I keep repeating myself, increasingly louder and slower. I can hear her tell people around that she cannot hear anything and the phone is really acting up, but the very fact that I can hear her say all that renders the phone excuse invalid.

* there are times when she hears part of what I say and she attempts to reply to that part alone, which is incomplete and sometimes contrary to the point in its entirety. For example, when I try to tell her something that was bothering me but is fixed now.

* there are times when she mis-hears what I say. What she hears are NOT rhyming words (desi movie directors, are you listening?) It is shocking to realize how different a story it could be that she hears from what I am actually saying.

* there are times she is telling me something but never hears my non-word responses (umm, uh-oh, aaah etc), resulting in her feeling that I am not interested in what she is saying and sending me on a guilt trip to Daughter Hell. Sometimes, she does not hear my verbal responses as well, which is, of course, a recipe for insanity.

* there are times when she is telling me something that I do not agree with (trivial and otherwise). And, there is NO way for me to tell her I do NOT AGREE...

* it is hard enough to talk about mundane things in this fashion (repeating many, many times; overlooking minor details that go unheard, literally) but it is just impossible to talk about meaningful things (relationships, feelings, career, etc). I have had real conversations with her only in person which boils down to about 21 days per year for the last two years.

Now, all I want from her is to try and get some kind of hearing aid. I know that might not work for everyone, etc, etc. But, all I want her to do is TRY. TALK to an expert, who can tell her if it is going to work for her or not. But, she refuses to do that, because, I *think* she does not even realize that it is indeed a problem for me. No one else faces this problem of having to communicate with her at any cost through the phone. And, this problem is way, way easier to tackle in person, especially when you are used to it, which we all are. So, everyone (read my father, brother, SIL) takes the easy way out for them (not force my mother to face reality and thus run the risk of being considered harsh/insensitive).

As a result, one of my favorite fantasies is having a conversation with my mother. On the phone. How many 26 year olds can beat that? Anyhow, tying things back to the title of this post, I have certainly learned one thing - when your loved one tells you something, listen. She/he probably has a point, however incredible it might seem. If having incorporated their input turns out to be a bad idea, it is still okay - most things are not irreversible and your loved one will appreciate your having tried, more than you can even begin to imagine.

Mind over matter

In spite of my passable aptitude for cooking, I have always been intimidated by rotis, when I am solely responsible for making it from scratch. I have helped others make rotis (mainly flipping while they roll) but just the thought of kneading the dough, rolling and roasting (in parallel, that too) is overwhelming. One fine day (a few days ago), I decided that this is simply a 'mental issue' that can and should be overcome - I love rotis! ;)

I worked on my attitude first. Roti might be a 'simple', everyday dish for majority of Indians, but it is still challenging to make if you don't have practice. So, I started out telling myself that it is a hard task but I could do it, if I followed a methodical process and didn't get frustrated during the process. However, if I managed to screw up, it was OK. I could always try again tomorrow. Here goes my process ....

I took 2 cups wheat flour, 1/2 tsp salt and 2 tbsp oil in a bowl and mixed these for a few seconds. Added about half a cup of warm water (in two installments) and just mixed it to make a non-sticky mass. I know... looks weird but hang on!


I left this dough covered for a little over half an hour. Then, I kneaded the dough to make a nice, pliable mass.


Made little balls(!) out of the dough and rolled each one out. I am not exactly proud of the shape but I am not ashamed enough to not post the picture!


I, of course, wanted to capture the roasting of the roti as well but I had to take a call between a picture and a unburnt meal. The obvious option won.


Oh, and I am having this with a whole moong - chana dal curry. One difference was - I soaked the chana dal along with the whole moong overnight, since I am a little afraid of chana induced indigestion.

More than just getting over my cook's block, I am extremely happy about the timing. Today is a special day (not for bloggable reasons) and I couldn't have chosen a better day to let go of my roti demon. Yay!

PS: By the way, I am a camera phobe and still picking up the reins of using the most basic point and shoot features (another potential mind over matter issue but for later)

Update: Though I was happy with getting over my phobia, I was not completely happy with the output. It was nowhere close to as soft as it could or should be :) I think I have figured out what was wrong. In my anxiety to not make the dough sticky, I have in fact been using too little water. Today, for 3 cups of flour, I added close to 1 cup water and the resulting rotis were W.A.Y. better.

Where my desiness* shines through

Needless to say, in so many ways. But, particularly, this. Showing off my ahem culinary skills. It is the thing I most love being appreciated for, more than just about anything else. Call me sexist, but I think this is somewhat complementary to the concept of the way to a man's heart being his stomach. Praise my cooking and my heart is won already. OK, I am exaggerating. Maybe. *Come to think of it, am I wrong in thinking this is the desiness in me speaking? I mainly think so, since a lot of my non-desi friends a) don't cook or b) don't care, while the majority of my desi friends love to cook and greatly appreciate compliments.

This should have been part of

this post. But, it totally slipped my memory, somewhat like lacunar amnesia, but clearly not quite, since I remembered it again. After I got up on stage and before I walked across to get the degree, I was supposed to hand over a small piece of paper to the class marshal who reads my name off of it. Not that he doesn't have a list himself (thankfully, as I later find out), this is just to help him with the correct pronunciation. So, guess what? I drop the chit of paper. In a fraction of a second, I kick myself hard and try to pick it up. But, it is not within reach. I take a quick decision to ditch it. And, proceed with as much dignity as I could muster. And then completely forget about it, till a while ago. However, right now, I am actually a little proud of the fact that I am not beating myself down about it, which I am (OK fine, anyone is) completely capable of doing. [By the way, does that make me a completely sad person? No, don't answer that one, it is a rhetorical question.] I mean, it could have been worse. I could have tripped over, one of the heels could have come off, dress could have slipped, hair could have come loose... I could go on. Moreover, come what may, when it comes to on-stage blunders, I am never going to beat this* Err... Please, God, please don't prove me wrong on this one.

* I should have linked to the standalone version of the video but this one is just too good!

Graduation day reflections

Now that I have drawn your attention by this earth shattering title, let me go on to reassure you that it is worse than it sounds.

I have noticed that people usually start any speech they give on a campus with, "This is a great day to be on campus." Yesterday was no exception. I usually don't give it more attention than a mere shake of the head (not in the affirmative sense). But, this time, my reaction was like, really? What is great about this day, for God's sake? I don't feel great. I am apprehensive about walking out of the academic cocoon into the real world (for the second time). I know the real world is not as tolerant of my inadequacies, as indulgent of my experiments, as appreciative of my meager accomplishments. Even my own role is not as defined as it was in school. So tell me, what is great about this day?

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In spite of my apprehensions, it is difficult not to be influenced by the excitement floating around. It is not unlike the excitement you feel when you walk into a theme park or watch a match (any sport, for that matter) in the stadium. You can just feel the energy in the air. You cannot help but let go of your reluctance, participate in the goings-on, get pulled into innumerable pictures...




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I am the extremely sentimental type. If you are comparing me to the average cave man. However, when the dean mentioned during the acknowledgments that we should applaud our families for the sacrifices they made during the last two years so that we could get our degree, I thought of my parents sitting thousands of miles away and... felt a little choked. I may or may not have dabbed at my eyes for a brief second.

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The day itself was an epitome of operational efficiency. The last few weeks have a little bit of a blur, so I did not think too much about what I was going to wear (under my graduation robes) for the Dean's reception party. As G-day got really close and I didn't think I could go shopping, I decided on a simple black skirt and a blouse. But, the day before G-day, I couldn't help wishing I had a nice dress to wear. So, I decided I would look for a dress, the day of. I know, I know, recipe for frustration, insanity and the like.

G-day dawned. Not that I was up at the crack of dawn.

9:30a - I have overslept. But, I am determined not to give up on my brilliant plan.

10:05a - I catch the bus.

10:12a - I am at Target.

10:30a - I have tried on 4 dresses, one of which fits and I am as usual thinking if I should take the next larger size instead.

10:37a - Try both sizes, again. Contemplate.

10:42a - Heck, I am choosing the smaller one.

10:48a - Am on pins and needles. There is a bus at 10:55a and the next one is at 11:35a (frequency sucks on the weekends). There is a line at the checkout counter (leisurely Saturday shoppers w/ families). Thankfully, the family just ahead of me are shopping for a party they are attending (probably graduation) and have purchased just a few gift cards. Sigh of relief.

10:50a - I am out of there.

10:58a - Bus is late by three minutes. What ever happened to punctuality and efficiency, I say.

So, here goes.. the fruit of all my meticulous, mission-critical planning..



Oh, before I forget, I also cooked, ate, got ready and reached on time at 2:10p for the photos and line-up, all of which is, of course, not worthy of more than one sentence. Favorable comments on my efficiency are highly appreciated and most welcome. Suggestions of a gym subscription as a graduation gift, not so much. (I am willing to share the limelight though, if you have stories of your own efficiency).

And thus ends my G-day saga.

Growing up is such a barbarous business, full of inconvenience... and pimples.

I completely agree with J. M. Barrie. In fact, anyone who doesn't agree that growing up (in all senses of the phrase) was the toughest thing they ever did, is strange. Or has had a charmed life. Or let's just say I am too dense to fathom their depths :P While it is my earnest wish to describe the angst of growing up in a poignant yet endearingly rib tickling narrative, some people have already done that so well that I am not even going to try. My fave coming of age movies in no particular order (being a complete movie non-buff, I cannot believe I am actually writing about movies, but then why re-invent the wheel!):

1. Sixteen Candles - oh, the frustration of yearning for that elusive crush while having to deal with pre-occupied parents, self-obsessed siblings, odd house guests, irrepressible geeks and mean girls at school, confidence sapping self-doubts, what not ...



2. Dil Chahta Hai - Great portrayal of different shades of love.. being frivolous about love..

.. unsustainable 'love'..

.. forbidden love..

.. unrequited love..

.. and not to forget, learning to love..

All of this blended in so well and the flow so smooth that you don't even realize there are three sub-plots and feel the need to attune yourself consciously to what is going on. I could go on and on but let me just say perfection ko improve karna mushkil hota hai ;) Of course, my favorite scene is the funniest from the movie but quite traumatic for the guy who experienced it :D Who said growing up was easy? ;)



3. The Breakfast Club - another Hughes movie, I know. But, I cannot think of any other movie which brings out the pain of being slotted in a pigeon hole and tells the world that no one is a stereo-type. May be, an amalgamation of stereo-types, but never just one.



4. Reality Bites - Post graduation depression. Harsh subemployment. Sky high aspirations. Grounding need for money. Complex relationships. Intricate personalities. A sandpaper dry sense of humor. Of course, a dreamy Ethan Hawke :)



5. Mouna Ragam - don't think this is a growing-up movie? Revathi getting over Karthik and falling for Mohan makes this movie qualify as one, I think. Actually, Mani Ratnam is not my favorite director. I don't like people who have this smarter-than-thou attitude. For that matter, I don't like Mohan either. His 'romancing' grates on my nerves. But, this movie is an exception. (I think, the universal) favorite scene from the movie... :)



What are your favorite coming of age movies?

The path to marital bliss ....

is littered with gems such as:

- In the partner requirements section of one matrimony profile - "Must take care of self and parents."

- At a "bride seeing" event - the "girl" comes in on request and sits down next to "Aunty". "Aunty" opens the conversation, "My elder DIL never sits down in front of me."

- Comment by the "boy's" mother on seeing the "girl's" picture - "Your daughter seems to be the chamathu* type. That won't work for my son."

- Conversation between the two sets of parents -

"We like the girl a lot. Go ahead and fix a date for the betrothal."

:genuine surprise: "But, you have just met her. Your son has not even met her."

:genuine surprise, again: "So?"

*Ram-ek-achchha-ladka-hai types for Hindi speakers. I don't think there is a perfect English equivalent. For obvious reasons :P Best I can come up with is overly-obedient-and-simple type.

Kindred Spirit

My favorite chick-lit heroine is Bridget Jones. If you are thinking that she can't walk and chew gum at the same time, you probably have only seen the movie and not read the book. Just like any movie that is said to have been adapted from a book, this movie bears minimal resemblance to the book, if at all. Moving on to just some of the reasons I 'get' her in no particular order...

* She is not really overweight, just that she can do better. Which is why she obsesses over her weight :)

* Her phone conversations with her mother are, ahem, a little challenging.

* She might be a bit of a dork, but she's not stupid. (If you don't think the two are different, we are not going to agree on anything anyway).

* She cannot bring herself to be rude to people who are rude to her.

* She decides to take on high-and-mighty social events but chickens out at the last minute :P

* She loves Mr. Darcy and Mr. Darcy.

* She cannot resist the temptation to day dream when she is supposed to be working :D

And now, how good is a post on Bridget if it does not include this? ;)



Over to you now. Who is your fave chick-lit heroine?

Small world? I think so.

This song was playing in a Starbucks in Dallas, TX a couple of weeks ago (when this blog wasn't born yet), I remembered it while drinking my coffee :)

The end.

The most time tested way of describing (a.k.a. cliche) something that whizzed past - it seems like yesterday when I walked into my post graduate orientation invoking all my favorite gods and beseeching them to make me not look painfully shy and not act like a blubbering mess. (I honestly believe it is difficult even with their combined efforts to make me a social butterfly) Lo and behold! I am graduating this weekend. Where did the two years go? Have I become old enough for years to slip past? Or, have so many things been happening? Regardless, me thinks it is not a bad idea to have a log of the present as it happens. And then, what are blogs for?

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