Sine Qua Non

Plus ça change

2009-07-28T16:15:00.007+05:30

In an attempt to kickstart more regular blogging, I'm moving. Please update your links and the RSS Feed.
I first started blogging in 2004. I was twenty years old, in my last year of college and had no idea what I was going to do once I grow up.

Since then, I've lived in two countries, in three different cities, moved four apartments and now, five years later, I'm a student again and still have no idea what I am going to do with the rest of my life!

They say, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose!

Pretty Woman

2009-03-14T16:26:00.002+05:30

The cab pulls up outside the hotel. I struggle out, trying to grab my overnight bag and coat in one hand while typing furiously on my blackberry with the other.

A storm of flashes go off, I'm mildly disconcerted. My fellow traveller bounds out and smiles, waving his hand. It takes a few seconds for the gathered paparazzi to realize we're not who they were expecting. The cameras go down accompanied by some very French sighing..

Spring has sprung

2009-03-14T16:21:00.002+05:30

The crocuses are in full bloom, the birds are in my garden.. Spring has finally sprung.
Yay!

Of the Pubgoing, Loose and Forward Women

2009-03-07T06:23:00.002+05:30

I applaud the moral agenda of the Ram Sena. In a country like India where the police is ineffective, and constitutional machinery is breaking down - it's important that we have vigilantes taking justice in their own hands.

How else will we prevent sacrilegeous things like Muslim boys and Hindu girls drinking juice together?

Forget the cases of domestic violence, rape and female infanticide. Ignore the fact that 1 out of every 4 women in India is sexually abused.

Clearly, it is the Pubgoing, Loose and Forward Women who are the big challenge to the moral fiber and integrity of our Great Hindu Nation.

er.. Did anyone happen to see some pink underwear?

Grocery Shopping

2009-03-06T03:40:00.000+05:30

Every year, usually around January, I realize that there is a wide gap between who I am and who I want to be. Nowhere is this more evident than in my grocery shopping. Like most people I’m rather fond of junk food. One of the semi-cheap thrills of moving to London was discovering a whole new junk food alphabet – from Aero bars to Buttons all the way down to Wispa and Yorkie bars. For a posh night in I break out the Kettle Chips with cracked black pepper.. which is essentially junk food at its Sunday best.

Yet if you see me at a Sainsbury’s on the weekend, it’s like I’m shopping for a different person. The kind of person who eats crunchy carrots and radishes, breakfasts on organic oatmeal and drinks chamomile tea. Every Sunday afternoon is pretty much an exercise in optimism – with purchases of what feels like eight kilos of fresh fruit, muesli bars, authentic pesto from an authentic Italian man at the market, non-fat non-saturated no calorie yoghurt (i.e. white coloured water) and juice enough for your average kindergarten class.

Come Wednesday evening though and I can usually be found in front of the television munching nachos at 1 am while a disapproving pile of oranges watches over me.

.. and Auld Lang Syne..

2009-01-12T04:23:00.003+05:30

I wish I could say I've been out exploring Tanzania, or climbing Mount Everest. But no, I've been right here in cold London suffering from extended Writer's Block.

But what's January without a few resolutions - and mine is to post more often.

Happy New Year all!

Merseyside

2008-02-18T00:35:00.002+05:30

Welcome to Liverpool, home to the Beatles, scouse, a Tate and a football team that apparently never walks alone.

One of this year's European Capitals of Culture (the other being Stavanger in Norway), the city seemed to be gearing up for a summer influx of tourists with scaffolding everywhere and road works being undertaken in earnest.

The city, is compact and the city center can be easily traversed by foot. We spent most of our time exploring the waterfront and the docks. They have shopping centers and several restaurants serving a variety of cuisines ranging from Indian to Mediterranean. The waterfront also houses the Tate Liverpool. We visited one exhibition - the Twentieth Century and how it looked - which was sponsored by DLA Piper. I particularly enjoyed the figurative sculptures which involved representations of lives through artefacts - a bed, kitchen implements, soap dishes etc.

Liverpool is also home to two big cathedrals - the Anglican cathedral with one of the largest organs and heaviest bells in the world, and the other the Metropolitan Cathedral. Rather appropriately, the road connecting the two churches is called Hope Street.

While the Anglican church is a beautiful building, the Met. cathedral was a touch too modern for my tastes. Altogether too much steel, glass, and fluroscent lighting.

A keen reader will notice I'm omitting all mention of the Beatles. Obviously they are one of Liverpool's prime attractions, but there are only so many tacky yellow submarine buttons I can look at, so will leave that alone. Suffice to say that for any die-hard Beatlemaniac, there is enough in Merseyside to amuse and entertain.

Check List

2008-01-19T04:26:00.000+05:30

Neat shopping list with bullet points - Check
Misplacing said shopping list - Check
Emailing everyone I work with to make sure they have everything they need so they will not call me for the next fortnight (one hopes!) - Check
Hectic shopping a few hours before my flight, desperately trying to remember WHERE I saw that particular item I wanted for S - Check
Call my bank to let them know I am travelling so that they don't block my Credit Card - Check
Online check in to make sure I get an aisle seat - Check
Out of Office Auto Reply - Check

Good night London, Good morning Chennai!!

Moorish Escapades

2007-12-30T21:00:00.000+05:30

My only knowledge of Morocco comes from the movie Casablanca, which I later learned wasn't even shot there.

Before we left, I had mental images of Oriental splendour and deep dark intrigues in narrow alleyways. I wasn't disappointed.

The Riad - A home away from home

We spent most of the five days in Marrakech, in Southern Morocco, a couple of hours away from the sea. We decided to stay in a riad which are old Moroccan homes converted into guesthouses.

They usually have 3-5 rooms each and the owners or care takers stay on the premises. You get home cooked meals, a flavor of Moroccan life, and a chance to meet other tourists as well.

Riad Ghallia - on Derb El Khemis, Place Mokhef

Our riad was in the heart of the Medina (the old city) with streets so narrow that taxis had to drop us off on the main square. Maps aren't really reliable amongst the tiny unmarked streets and its best to orient yourself well during the day so you don't get too lost.

The Square and the Souks

Djemma El F'na, the central square in the Medina at the heart of the old city is a designated UNESCO world heritage site. With snake charmers, dancers, mini boxing rings and story tellers, the square buzzes with life.

While a lot of tourists do visit, a large percentage of the patrons are locals for whom the story tellers etc are a nightly entertainment.

The square also has innumerable stalls selling freshly cooked cous cous, calamari, dry fruits, juices, pastillas, snail soup and more.

Djemma El F'na - the main square in the Medina

Just off the square is the intricate maze of the souks. We spent hours browsing here for knickknacks from intricately worked baboushes (shoes) to spice holders shaped like tajine pots. Bargaining is elevated to an art form in the souks and we learnt that a good bet is to quote 20% of the salesman's initial figure, and expect to pay about 30-40%!

The Souk

A Gastronome's Paradise

The one great thing about travelling from the UK is that things are invariably significantly cheaper ever where else. If NY seems affordable, Marrakech was like paradise. We ate at some truly exquisite restaurants including La Trattoria and Pacha Marrakech

La Trattoria is an Italian restaurant in the heart of the new city (Gueliz). They have a beautiful bar and a delightful restaurant by the poolside. With warm fires blazing in the winter and excellent seafood, it was a great evening.

Pacha Marrakech is the newer, younger sibling of Pacha in Ibiza. Apart from a world renowned club, they also have two restaurants with luxurious decor and decadent indulgence all around.

The Ruins - Palace El Badi

At the southern end of the old city is the Palace El Badi, next to the Mellah (Jewish enclave). This 16th century palace was built by the Saadian king Ahmed El Mansour based on the design of the Alhambra palace in Granada. Much of its splendour was lost when it was stripped by a subsequent king, Sultan Moulay Ismail, to decorate his palace in Meknes.

El Badi Palace

Essaouira

After a few days in Marrakech, we decided to head to the seaside, and went to Essaouira. Earlier called Mogador, Essaouira literally means "well designed". And well designed it is! A beautiful tiny seaside town on the Atlantic coast, its white walls and buildings give it a very Meditteranean feel. We lunched here (you do notice the amount of eating we did!) at Les Alizes - which served up some delightful Moroccan fare, including the inevitable tajine.

We spent most of the afternoon sitting in a cafe in the port, facing the sea, enjoying the sun and reading our books.

All in all, a wonderful way to spend Christmas!

Every day at 3.30pm

2007-12-12T15:09:00.000+05:30

The sun shines through the corner office and hits me in the eye.

Sun worshipper that I am, I enjoy seeing its gold orange glow reflected off the modern steel and glass structure opposite the window, and I imagine briefly, that I am sunning myself on some tropical island..

And I wish I could exchange the tweed umbrella in my bag for a tiny coloured paper one in my drink.

Of the small and sundry

2007-12-10T16:31:00.000+05:30

There is a strange pleasure in the repetition of manual tasks.

In the slicing of an apple for instance.

The knife poised expectantly above the freshly washed skin. Leaping, almost, out of my hand in an eagerness to slice through the firm red fruit.

Thick creamy slices edged in deep maroon.

Or in the crispness of a freshly ironed collar.

I lose myself in the heaviness of the iron filled with linen water. Erasing wrinkles and crumpled lines on the cotton blend fabric with every movement.

A warm cloud of steam rises from the board mingled with the smell of cotton and detergent.

How she made sambhar in the London borough of Tower Hamlets

2007-12-03T06:06:00.001+05:30

She waves her hand above the saucepan. The oil is hot enough. She throws in the mustard seeds that burst into life, crackling. Adds the chopped onions. Saute the onions until translucent.. she reads her mother’s neat handwriting. Recipes written for onions that were bright violet in the cart that Muruga brought around every morning. Her mother would run down in a nightgown and haggle merrily with him before returning with the day’s vegetables. Small tomatoes, potatoes still covered in spots of mud. And a handful of bay leaves that he would throw in for free.

How would she be able to tell, here where onions were white, in clear plastic bags under the bright lights of the vegetable aisle at the Tesco?

She guesses the best she can while measuring out the spices. It takes several tries to get it right. Too much salt (add some potates to soak it up). Too little tamarind. Finally, she adds the sambhar podi from a tupperware container.

Neatly labelled in tamizh, packed and sent from home, brought over by a cousin returning from a vacation. It was saved for a special occasions - when she was cooking for friends, when they were having people over. If it was only for her, she’d just throw in the “Hot Chilli Powder” (suitable for Indian curries) that she buys at the store.

But today although she's dining alone she uses the sambhar podi. On this rainy Sunday afternoon, she's trying to recreate, in Liverpool Street, a tiny slice of Abhiramapuram.

Time 'n Tide

2007-10-29T00:39:00.000+05:30

This weekend as the clocks went back, I gained an hour. A precious gift on a chilly Sunday morning with two 1 AMs

Instead of going back the entire hour at one go, like the rest of England and Europe (Yes, as someone who had to fill countless forms, shell out a 100 quid and jump through hoops to get a visa to Europe despite living in London (or is it because of), I still think they're two very seperate entities), I savoured and spent this hour throughout the day.

In the morning when I woke up, and wanted to snooze a li'l while longer - I gave myself twenty more minutes of Sunday morning under the covers - a very guilt free snooze unlike Monday or Tuesday morning snoozes where you know that the later you get up, the more emails you'll have to deal with in one go.

In the afternoon when I met girlfriends over for lunch, I gave myself an extra half hour of conversation, laughs and gossip before I had to leave.

And this morning, when I ran into work suffering from Monday morning blues, I stopped at a Starbucks, bought myself a caramel coffee with cinnamon, and gave myself ten extra minutes to savour it before getting to the rest of the day.

Now, I'm tempted to go forward every Friday evening, and give myself an extra hour all weekend!

Anti-Symmetry

2007-09-30T00:24:00.000+05:30

My bathroom floor is covered with mats. We have two white ovals, which are not really ovals - more like elongated circles, and two blue circles. They are currently arranged on the floor in a neat row - oval circle oval circle. White Blue White Blue.

My inner self rebels daily against this symmetry. And as I sit there meditatively, I run through a seemingly infinite set of possibilities. Oval - Circles on top of each other - Oval. Blue in one corner with Whites in a straight line. Circle Circle and Ovals at right angles to each other. Blue White White Space and then Blue.

With three women trying to get to work at the same time, it is not long before I am jerked out of my morning reverie.

A Question of Character

2007-09-28T04:15:00.000+05:30

A couple of months ago, my (currently) housemates and I were busy searching for a place to stay. We had a very simple set of requirements :

- It has to be close to work. No more than 17.5 minutes door to door by the fastest mode of transport as applicable

- The distance between the home and the nearest grocery store shall not exceed 7 minutes by walk (4 minutes if walking briskly) for the average girl clad in no higher than 1.8 inch heels.

- There shall be a minimum average of 1.2 people per square meter from 6am to 2am on weekdays and 8am to 4am on Friday/Saturday nights.

R. finally found a place that meets all these requirements. I and I (just to clarify one of these I's is me, as in myself the author of this post, the other is one of my housemates who's name starts with I. I don't have MPD.. yet) saw the photos, fell in love with it and agreed to put a deposit on it.

Before we got the place however, the landlord wanted a character reference for each of us. Knowing almost no one in London, I volunteered the name of someone I was to work with in the near future. For the sake of simplicity let us call him X.

A couple of days later, we received an email from the person handling the lettings process saying "blah blah blah gas check blah blah telephone blah blah deposit blah NatWest blah.. and Ms. Sunjahta's character check is outstanding"

I was obviously thrilled. What a wonderful beginning. It is nice to know how well one is regarded by people one is mildly acquainted with. Of course, one is of the opinion that one is upholder of moral principles and is of excellent character. Affirmation of this, of course, pleases one no end.

Until I received the following email from X :

Hi Sujatha, Sorry for not being able to fill in your charcater (sic.) form. I'm travelling in Germany.. will do it as soon as i get back on monday. Regds, X

Once all outstanding items were resolved however, one did get the house and is now happily ensconced in above. Albeit a little bit miffed at 'satisfactory' character ref.

I started this post last week. Meant to get back to it. Hit Publish by mistake. TechnoDolt

A Whale of a Time!

2007-06-21T01:03:00.000+05:30

Over long travels far and wide, I have come to the great realization that I am a city person. I love the huge metropoli, with their sky-high real estate prices and crowded streets.

Ever so often... usually when I'm stuck in traffic for about 45 minutes on a Tuesday afternoon, I claim that I want to run away to a more pleasant environs. Where there are rolling meadows and clear air and clean water and... well... pretty much nothing else.

About 20 minutes into 'sitting quietly and contemplating nature' and I want to run to a coffee shop, take in a movie and shop at my neighbourhood grocery for everything from instant rava dosa mix to olives stuffed with pimientos.

As I said, I'm a city girl.

But on a recent excursion into more pristine environs, I had the luck to catch some of mother nature's truly outstanding creations.

Picture taken by Appa during Whale watching trip in Junea, Alaska. May-Jun 2007

Chennai Chatter

2007-05-18T21:48:00.000+05:30

A month and a half into the longest vacation of my life. You'd think I'd be bored by now. Instead I'm having the time of my life.

I've been doing all the things I've always wanted to, and never really had the time to. Like filling in endless forms for visa applications, work permits and background checks.

I also managed to read a whole bunch of really nice books including some Gogol, Erica Jong, lots of plays - Tendulkar, Tennessee Williams, and Moliere. All in all a fun time.

Another play looms large in July, bigger than the previous one.

Plus we're going to Frisco, Colorado, Alaska on a family vacation after ages.

Much fun it is!

Of Random Conversations

2007-05-07T20:11:00.000+05:30

Between my sister and I this afternoon :

She : If you could be any animal, what would you be?
Me : I don't know.. I'm sleeping!

She : Ok, if I could be any animal.. what do you see me as?
Me : Leave me alone.. Ok.. a .. Cat!

She : But I don't like cats.. Waitaminnnitt.. YOU don't like Cats! :(

I tried telling her about Henry James, who once said "Cats and Monkeys, Monkeys and Cats - all human life is there". She was not pleased!

Which reminded me of another James quotation, one of my all time favorites -

"We work in the dark - we do what we can - we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art. "

LTTE : Love, This, That Etc..

2007-04-30T07:22:00.000+05:30

Miss Dolly Dilly from Walla Walla has a problem.
A big problem.
A 400 pound elephant of a problem.
Will the kind doctor be able to help?
Find out in 'Gynaecologist'

Rita plots to save a relationship and polish her diamonds.
Is all love really that fraudulent?
Are some thing better left unsaid?
Or is a full and frank 'Confession' the key to true love?

Father Joseph intervenes to help Sybil and Scotty.
Will he save Scotty before the pernicious Arabian Araq gets to him?
What will his habebe think?
Watch him tend to his flock in 'Compulsion'

Take time out this weekend to join us for asap's production of

LTTE - Love, This, That Etc.

Three short comedies about that Crazy li'l thing called love

(with due apologies to Queen, freedom fighters,

Harvard and anyone else who feels they deserve an apology)

Venue

"Top storey" Alliance Francaise of Madras, Nungambakkam.

Dates
May 5th, Saturday @ 4pm and 7.30pm
May 6th, Sunday @ 12.30 pm, 4pm and 7.30pm

Cast
Amit Singh

Anjana Iyer

Naveen George Thomas

Sujatha Santhanakrishnan

Sundar Subramanian

Directed by

Naveen George Thomas

Tickets

Rs.100/-

Available at

Landmark, Apex Plaza (Nungambakkam)

Alliance Francaise of Madras (Nungambakkam)

For further details call

98411 17773

98402 46196

Writer's Block

2007-04-28T05:14:00.000+05:30

There are several reasons why someone might find it physically impossible to write. Some of these reasons include :
* Boredom
* The lack of inspiration
* A general laziness seeping into the system after weeks of lazing around, eating mum's food, and watching meaningless television

I however, have no such excuses.

Over the past few months I've travelled a lot, read a lot, changed a lot (Yes! Once or twice a day) and sat in enough airports to be able to atleast come up with three interesting things to say about AirDeccan, Gujju travellers or Delhi women.

However, every time I sit down to write, the words just don't come out!

There is a certain pressure that what one writes must have meaning, must be profound, must be funny. After all, the point of any writing is to make a person laugh, or to make a person think. Hopefully both.

Yet, everything I think about writing seems insipid, or mundane.
Hence, I'm taking the easy way out and writing about not being able to.

Amen!

So Long, Farewell

2007-03-31T00:05:00.000+05:30

Isn't it funny how an entire lifetime can be summed up in 7 cardboard boxes and a cup full of loose change?

Night Riders Inc.

2007-02-27T15:22:00.000+05:30

The distance between Vastrapur and Gandhinagar is roughly 30 odd kilometers. The roundtrip took us about 1.5 hours and 74 km on an open highway. Before you do the mental math, let me clarify that its true what they say - The average man will sooner have a body part waxed than ask for directions!

My personal sense of direction has always been a little, shall we say, off. K. is, if possible, much worse :)

We left campus at 2 am and immediately proceeded for 10 km in the wrong direction. To give us some credit, we went in exactly the opposite direction. No mean feat that!

There's something about the wind in your hair on a cool morning, an open road, and no destination or timetable in mind. For as far as we could see, the road was ours.

As Sally says, in Cars

Well, the road didn't cut through the land like that interstate. It moved with the land, it rose, it fell, it curved. Cars didn't drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time.

And we ended with piping hot parathas at a roadside dhaba..

A pic of me at a sign saying Gujarat Tourism welcomes you

My Morning Run

2007-02-22T09:05:00.000+05:30

I used to sleep at 4 am. Then it became 5. Nowadays, I usually sleep by 6.30 - 7 in the morning. Sometimes not even then. To say my cycle has turned upside down and inside out is an understatement.

For the past week or so, I've been going at 6 am to get chai from the roadside shop opposite the campus gate. Its usually an motley crew of people who're awake. We've usually spent half the night chatting, talking, or just hanging out and watching the stars at LKP. And then at 6, we get on DBab, message everyone who's online, and head for chai. Steaming hot cuttings of sweet chai, with half the junta heading to the tiny cart around the corner for cigarettes. The most amazing and mundane conversations I've had here, I've usually had over morning chai.

I have two classes left. One paper and two exams due before I'm done.
Unless I decide to go back to school at some point of time, this could be the last time I 'study'.

I feel the pressure to say something poignant, something significant about this experience. But it won't come now.. the memories, the nostalgia..

Later maybe, a few months from now when I realize with a pang that I miss the complete freedom of an academic environment. No fixed schedule. No real responsibilities. And no real pressure.

Maybe when I'm working, I'll look back and think about this time, when I had nothing to do except plan holidays and read books.

Right now, I'm just having too much fun.

Go Goa!

2007-01-18T12:16:00.000+05:30

Before we left, we tried to understand the term susegad. From a variety of travel guides and internet resources, we gleaned the following :

Susegad, is a way of life in Goa. It's roots lie in the portugese word socegado which - loosely transalated - means 'laid back'. A less charitable reviewer even called it 'indolent'.

What is true however, is that the pace of life in Goa is slower, much slower than anything I've ever experienced.

In our quest to have a 'real beach holiday' we scouted around for a quiet, non-touristy beach. We finally hit the jackpot in South Goa near Palolem where we found a piece of unspoiled coast. For as far as the eye could see, we were the only ones on the beach. Four days with no cellphone access was a completely new experience for me. I'd never been so 'out of touch'.

Most shops open only at 10.30, only to promptly close again at 12 for 'breaking time'. At breakfast one day we ordered something called a 'transcendental juice' only to be told that the cook hadn't managed to go shopping that day. Something that would've elicited some frowns anywhere else, seems perfectly reasonable in Goa.

One afternoon we went shopping in Palolem and I sighted a pair of bamboo slippers that I wanted to buy. When I asked the shopkeeper if I could try them on, he said (with a smile) "er.. No Ma'am, I have only one pair..".

I don't think I have an accurate definition for what susegad is, but considering how happy everyone seems - I think they may have hit upon a good thing!

On the whole, it was four days of lying on the beach, getting sun, napping all afternoon, staying up till 2 am talking, reading on the deck and lazing around. On our last day we finally roused ourselves to go to a more commercial beach and managed to jetski, parasail, and fall off a contraption called a 'ringo' boat into the deep blue sea.

I can't wait to go back!

Miscellany

2007-01-07T03:03:00.000+05:30

I've been so lax about this blog lately - rarely writing and staying away from it for weeks at a time. Not that particularly interesting things are happening in my life. But I have been reading a lot. And watching a lot of Sex and the City.

Museums and Manolos

How does a thirty something afford a 100+ shoes each of which costs $485? How can anyone really afford to live in the upper east side and own Chanel? Logic and reason clearly do not apply here.

But there's something uniquely enjoyable about this hit show that lasted six years. M observed yesterday that it shows New York in a very different light. New York is not all about museum benefits, terribly expensive shoes and Bungalow 8. And she's right. But its not just about coffee shops and purple walls either. I guess its just one tiny slice of life in the big city.

Yet, this is terribly addictive, simply cos it shows women in a different light from the traditional stereotypes that popular television slots them in. While the "Why doesn't he call" cliches DO exist, they are not the be all and end all. On this show atleast, its clear who has the (excuse my language) balls ;)

Mancini

Confession : I've only seen a part of Breakfast at Tiffany's. But I love the theme song. Moon river however wasn't Mancini's most famous composition. He also composed for Love Story, Godfather etc.

After a gap of several years, I recently bought a CD. An actual physical music dissemination device. Even in this age of BitTorrent and InstiLANs, we need them sometimes.

ChickLit

The term ChickLit is reserved for books that are :
a/ Usually pink (or in a sharp departure from the traditional - a baby blue)
b/ Have loopy cursive titles
c/ A story line that can be broadly summarized as :
* Twenty something woman in New York struggles to find herself
* Works hard and suddenly finds success
* Cannot find man despite dressing well, having ash blonde poker straight hair
* Meets Mr. Wrong
* 276 pages later - realizes Mr. Right was under her nose all along
* end of story :) Roses and Champagne are usually involved at this point!

Yet there's something magical and endearing about this genre. This is Mills and Boons for the next generation of women who have careers and want it 'all' but still dream of knights sweeping them off.

Mostly, they're light, fluffy, comfortable and are the literary equivalent of gooey chocolate cake. Comfort-Lit.

I must guiltily admit to devouring tonnes of them the past few months. It started in New York mostly because books are so hooribly high-priced there. No wonder almost everyone watches tv instead. I finally stumbled upon the 3 for 2 section where I found 2 books I'd been meaning to read. After going through the rest of the section twice, I finally just picked a pink book without really glancing at the title. (Can you keep a secret by Sophie Kinsella for the truly interested). Was immediately hooked!

Frontiers and Futehally

I usually tend to avoid award winning authors. I haven't really figured out why, but I prefer unearthing my own gems in some forgotten corner of my favorite bookstore. I pick up books without ever having heard of the author simply because the blurb grabs me. And I still haven't read The God of Small Things (there, I've said it.. Sue me!). Somehow the idea of trudging through award winning prose bores me. 18 lines into a review of The Inheritance of Loss and I get the feeling I'll never be able to pick up the book.

There have been a few times when I've been pleasantly surprised though. Jhumpa Lahiri is a favorite example. I picked up the Interpreter of Maladies on a whim and fell in love. Other gems include Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni, Ladies Coupe by Anita Nair. Do you notice a very strong female bias?

Once, early in a month (when I'm usually flush with pocket money) I re-read Catcher in the Rye. On an impulse, I bought Franny and Zooey. What an amazing turn of prose! What a picture he paints!

I've had my fair share of mistakes too. Lolita for example, was bought after hearing that it was one of 'those' definitive works. Another book with its covers too far apart (to paraphrase Churchill)

Recently, I came across a review of Futehally's prose and decided to check out her posthumous collection of stories titled Frontiers. It was in one word - Amazing.

When I was younger, I remember trying to come up with ideas for my contribution to the school newletter. I didn't know about writers block then but I knew I couldn't think of a single thing! I came across a rather 'global' piece of advice - "Write about what you know". When I later thought about it, this is probably the best advice you can ever give a writer. Shama Futehally had followed this to a T, and it shines in her prose. She crafts tight personal spaces and slices a neat knife through them - opening them up in ways I've never seen before.

Her prose makes me stop, put the book down, and think. In short, she is the kind of writer I want to be when I grow up. Read the book - you will not be disappointed.

Auld Lang Syne

2007-01-01T04:30:00.000+05:30

A friend recently observed that January 1, is simply an arbitrary end to a certain time period. It is not spring (traditionally the beginning of a new year in several cultures). It is not harvest. It is not Christ's birthday (that's 5 days earlier), it is not the longest day and it is not the longest night.

What's so special about this one date that makes us all glam up, party all night, buy new jewellery, make new resolutions and sing Auld Lang Syne?

Is it simply a chance to relive the past one year? A chance to think about the happy times, forget the sad mistakes and gear up to make completely new ones over the next 365 days?

I remember making resolutions every year. To lose weight, to keep a diary, to suddenly change all my bad habits or to undo all past errors. This year, I promise nothing of the sort. I've spent years making plans - assuming my life would follow a fixed path towards some destination, and getting frustrated at deviations from the same.

While getting to the house with the picket fences and kids is important, I think its equally important to live life now (do I sound like an alcohol/music brand ad yet). Cliches aside, I want to live in the here and now, and let the big stuff work itself out.

Que Sera Sera.

Happy New Year to all of you! May all your dreams come true!

The Last First Day

2006-12-19T16:54:00.000+05:30

Today was the first day of what is (hopefully?) my last term at IIM A. For most of us, this is the last leg of our academic careers. Fond memories, good friends and red bricks make for many nostalgic moments in the sixth term.

As Churchill once said, This is not the End. It is not even the Beginning of the End. It is perhaps, the End of the Beginning

Love's Labour Lost

2006-12-14T00:47:00.000+05:30

Gradually the threads dissolve, the strings come undone. We become footnotes in someone else's life, remembered fondly in the middle of drying dishes on a warm Wednesday night. In the end, this is all we're reduced to, this is what we're left with.

Glib laughter, and a very witty thing she once said. A song at the club that you used to dance to. A secret habit of wolfing down cocktail olives without ever ordering martinis. An old tee shirt and a mini collection of her scrunchies, accumulating in your car. A few things that last longer than the relationship was meant to.

Older..! Wiser..?

2006-11-17T05:57:00.001+05:30

When I was 8 years old, I had life all figured out. I knew how the planets revolved around the sun, I knew how to ride a bicycle and, from a reading of an abridged version of Swiss Family Robinson, was quite convinced I could survive on a desert island. I was convinced I was going to be an architect, and often built Lego houses with an elaborate bathtub in the drawing room.

By high school, this had changed to an engineer who was drawing pictures of the internal combustion engine and learning organic chemistry. I had a definite ten year plan - to finish college, do a postgraduate degree, get married, settle down, had decided what color my sofas should be and where we'd vacation for the summer.

As I turned 23 I realize that growing older doesn't necessarily mean I have all the answers.
Or any of them.

I haven't figured out a career, haven't settled down, Hell! I haven't figured out how to change a tyre. My best laid plans have often been turned upside down in 12.8 seconds and I have absolutely no idea where I'd be spending my next birthday. As I see dear friends around me get engaged and pick home furnishings, I realize I have a long way to go before I really 'find' myself.

If the past twenty three years have been anything to go by however, the journey is as exciting as any destination would be.

Barefoot in Bombay

2006-11-01T01:54:00.000+05:30

How exactly do you end up shoe-less in South Bombay on a slow Sunday evening? You could try being me for a few hours!

It all started when this modern day Cinders expressed a desire to see Bombay. (Do you also get the feeling that this is going to be a long story?)

Until about a year ago, my only memories of Bombay were of its airports. Our flight would land at Sahar International in the middle of the night. My mum and I would then spend several hours hunting down, variously :
* The uncle designated to fly down from Chennai to escort us back home
* A luggage trolley for our Delsey bags filled with Camay soap, Pistas and Charlie purses.
* The Airport Manager who, for some reason, was usually more well hidden than most guerrilla fighters are.

After moving to Ahmedabad, I now get to see Santa Cruz on a more regular basis. Alas! Many many things have changed since I was a kid. The city is called Mumbai now. Everything else is now named after Shivaji, including both airports, a train terminus, about three roads and several tea stalls.

To cut a long story to about medium length, after having seen nothing of Bombay except the airports and the consulate, I decided it was time to remedy the situation. Which is how I landed up in Bombay last weekend.

Fungus, who had kindly offered to show me around town picked me up at Andheri. Usually, when a gentleman says he will pick you up, it means he is bringing a car or a bike. In Bombay, it means he is going to meet you at the terminus and elbow his way through the crowd so that you can get first dibs on a much coveted seat in the local train.

We traveled from Andheri to Churchgate along the Harbour Line and then walked to Marine Drive. As a city, Bombay is very tourist friendly. Names of places and streets are largely self explanatory. Bandstand for example is apparently where the band used to, well, stand.

We sat for a while looking at the sea and the Bombay skyline. I got a little paranoid that I would lose my slippers in the weirdly shaped inter-locking rocks on the corniche, so I removed them and kept them to the side.

I regaled Fungus with stories of broken heels and how Sh. would chivalrously give me his slippers and walk barefoot. Our new age gentleman scoffed at the very idea!

By this point, dear reader, you’ve figured out how this story ends haven’t you? As we get up to leave a while later, I somehow managed to kick my carefully secured slipper over the edge.

In the 12.7 seconds it took to fall, several distinct memories flashed before my eyes. Forks that had flown to neighbouring tables at a 5 star restaurant, that were discreetly retrieved by Sh. Days when I decided to take the quickest route down the stairs at the theater, covering 24 steps in 4.8 seconds - face first. So perhaps, this wasn’t my most embarrassing memory in recent times!

This, then, is how I ended up shoe-less in South Bombay on a slow Sunday evening.

Fungus loaned me his slippers and led the way to the nearest mall. I braved withering looks to squeak out my shoe size to the condescending sales guy. After asking me twice is I was “really sure??” he proceeded to announce it to the entire store in an effort to find ladies’ slippers my size.

I made a witty remark about other leading ladies who’d misplaced glass slippers and still had happy endings. Granted, Cindy probably wore a size 4 while I tend to shop in the corner of shoe shops where they stock the super sized pairs, but those are mere details.

With much effort, we finally bought shoes, fortified ourselves with more coffee, and headed out again to see more of Bombay.

Much fun was had by all!

Here and Now..

2006-09-26T01:28:00.000+05:30

How many windows do you have open right now, as you’re reading this? Are you also glancing at your messenger, is your phone nearby in case someone messages or calls you, is your email open - checking the server every 32 seconds for any new messages? We fill each day with much more than we ever could before. Technology allows us to be always connected, available, active. Always on. And this technology fights for space in your mind. Consistently and Constantly.

Every minute of the day, we straddle different worlds simultaneously. We could be at a play one evening, yet we are also simultaneously a phone call away from work. We’re out for dinner with a group of friends, but only an sms away from another friend who’s halfway around the world. Each evening we spend equal time with everyone who’s online on Gtalk or MSN in equally meaningless conversations. You ask a girlfriend how her life is, and before you hear her answer (or see it) you’re responding to a classmate’s query on tomorrow’s coursework.

I was out for coffee with a friend a few days ago. While I was talking rather animatedly about something, he was drawn away by a phone call from his friend. I was left mid-sentence with my hands waving in the air. Rather than wait while he finished his conversation, I picked up my phone and continued an sms conversation I’d been having with a girlfriend, who was still at work.

So this is where we are. An interconnected web of people who are each in multiple places at once through the miracle of technology. Everywhere but Here and Now. Because to be both here and now and available 100% would amount to being a total loser! In this day and age, how could you not have something better to do all the time?

This, then, is what we yearn for - something better. Which is why our phones are turned on and set to vibrate in our shirt pockets, so that we can be reachable 24/7 just in case Something happens. We leave our blackberries on in the theatre, our messengers on from the minute we step inside the house, and compulsively check our email ever so often.

The inherent message is, whatever I’m doing right now is too far beneath me for me to devote myself to it one hundred percent. I am merely here for the lack of anything better to do.

After all, we’d never want to spend time with anyone who’d want to spend time with us.

Technology helps us in this. It allows us to go to several places all at once and what’s more, get there very very fast.

We run to our fast cars ( the very latest model ) so that we can zip out the driveway just in time to sit idly for an hour while cursing the traffic. We yell at the person at the counter to “Hurry up already” so that we can grab lunch and head back to the office where we can stare persistently at the screen at the report, willing it to edit itself, all the while clicking ‘Send/Receive’ in Outlook roughly twice a minute.

We hustle and bustle through our lives, losing context in the search for speed and filling it instead with ‘buzz’. A meaningless, white, snow-like noise is taking over our lives until we’re too busy to think. Our collective attention span has dropped to new lows. If something takes longer than 30 seconds, too late!, we’ve already moved on.

After all, imagine, if you had a full thirty minutes to sit and think! What if, horror of horrors, you realized that you didn’t have anything of importance to say anyway?

Now imagine if you didn’t check your email for a day, or a week? What if (and this is what we secretly dread!) the world doesn’t fall apart. What would we do then?

20 dry days..

2006-09-20T07:34:00.000+05:30

This post is more out of a compulsion that this blog must not die a sad and lonely death simply because I am lazy and uninspired!

The 5th term has started. And unlike several of my peers who have classes only 3 days a week (leaving the other 4 free for travel, exploration etc) - I have courses all six days of the week.

I also have signed up for swimming and am trying (really really hard) to get in 20 lengths a day.

Navratri is around the corner and this year, we plan to do in style. So after much bargaining, I've got ghaghra cholis etc. Now can someone teach me the Garbaa?

BlogCamp

2006-09-01T10:12:00.000+05:30

What does your blog mean to you? Is it a way to get in touch or keep in touch with people? A non-judgemental audience for your thoughts on politics, philosphy and Prada? Or simply, a way to keep writing, sans editors and deadlines?

Whatever your blog means to you, the blog revolution has certainly gone mainstream. And, no.. That's not necessarily a Very Bad Thing.

Next weekend, Chennai plays host to what promises to be India's biggest Blog Unconference : Blog Camp

A Letter

2006-08-20T23:49:00.000+05:30

Tomorrow she starts college. My little girl has grown up so fast, I can't believe it. Was it 17 years ago that my parents told me, I was going to have a tiny playmate soon? When I first saw her, she looked like a porcelain doll. So white and fair in my sunburned, coffee colored hands. And so very tiny, I was scared she'll just float away.

It feels like yesterday when she started kindergarten. She agreed to get into the van, because I was on it too. When we stopped at her school, she insisted I accompany her to the class. One day she got hurt and was sitting in the class after school. The teacher asked me to come and get her. All big - sisterly I strode in and picked up her bag and water bottle. "Big girls don't cry", I said and my angel stopped immediately.

I remember all this now, some fifteen years later. She's all grown up and is done with school. No more uniforms and cycle tests. Our baby of the house is suddenly a big girl! And I feel, I should have so much to say.

My mum asked me today, "Do you remember your first day in college?". Yup, I do. The 8th of August 2001. I walked in and said Hi to D, and sat next to M. The three of inseparable for the next 4 years. The best friends I've made in life, I made in the first 10 minutes of college.

Enjoy these years! They're the best. Be sure to make mistakes. College is like an alternative universe where even the funniest gaffes are forgotten in a week. Get outside the classroom and learn a bit about the real world. The best things I did in college were outside the classroom - I think most people would agree with me on this one.

Burn up a Transistor. I think no one gets their engineering degree without burning up atleast a few transistors over the years. If you ever want to learn anything in college - let it be in the lab. For most of us, it's the last time in life that we ever need/have to bias a circuit. Make it count.

Experiment. And not just in the lab. Try on different personalities until you find one that fits. College is an amazing time to "find" yourself. It's the last time that the world gives you that luxury. Try something new every few weeks. Do things that you're not comfortable with. The best actors, guitarists, playwrights and dancers were born out of an uncomfortable moment when will triumphed over nervousness.

Meet people. In school, everybody you knew had daddys who worked in software or were CAs, and everyone's mum drove a Santro or a Scooty. College has a more diverse set of folks. Get out and meet people. You'll never know who you'll end up bonding with over a shared love for Metallica or Calvin and Hobbes.

I know you hardly need any of this advice. Over the years, you've been the one who usually advises me. Calm and level headed to my tempests and drama. I'm proud of you baby, be good and remember to have a blast!

Dance Like a Man

2006-08-12T01:12:00.000+05:30

"In a city like Chennai, every family has a dancer, or atleast knows one" - from the introduction to the script of Dance Like a Man

I think to be a child in Chennai, one must go through mandatory training in Bharatnatyam (if you are a girl), violin, mridangam (if you are a boy) and carnatic vocal music...

Even though I went through all the above phases, I never really learnt to dance. I performed once on stage, and then our one dance master moved away from Muscat - and That was That. This month, after about twelve years, I again wore ghungroos and practiced dance. What Fun!

Living by Lists

2006-08-09T19:12:00.000+05:30

The past few weeks have, as usual, been crazy busy. First there were midterms. Even though I had only two, still had to study. And then there were not one, but two trips home - which are awesome fun but exhausting nonetheless.

T-nite soon followed. Apparently my juniors are pretty good at setting a stage on fire. Now I don't mean that literally of course. After my class's experience with diyas last year, all forms of fire are banned on stage. But between them, the Fachchas have a Michael Jackson, a Beyonce Knowles, a few drummers, and another Jackson called Janet. [She of the famous wadrobe malfunctions ;-)]

This Sunday, we put up our first play of the year - Dance Like a Man (written by Mahesh Dattani). If you're in Ahmedabad this weekend, do drop by!

And now, back to submissions and work. As I said, crazy busy. My desk is a veritable jungle of purple and yellow post-its with reminders of various kinds. Some are quite incomprehensible. It took me a good fifteen minutes to understand one particularly cryptic note scribbled to myself at 3.28 am.

"Pyal Play!!" - was apparently supposed to remind me to tell someone that we need ghungroos for the drama practice!

As an aside, don't believe everything you read in the papers. I can, for example, speak passable Hindi

7 1/2 Things you probably don't know about me for sure..

2006-07-07T01:36:00.000+05:30

1. I don't get a daily newspaper. I'm sadly out of touch with the real world except for my hour at the gym where I watch the "Alert" headlines on a 24X7 News channel. And we all know how perfectly useless those are.

2. I don't get sleazy jokes in Hindi. I usually just nod along or pretend to be deep in conversation with someone else, but I just don't 'get' them. I don't know the words, I don't get the context, and when you don't bother to explain colloquialisms, its very difficult for a non-native speaker to understand.

3. I have stage fright. Ever since I was a eighth grade when I was handed a mike for the first time and it felt like it weighed a ton, I've been scared of being on stage. Scared of, I think, being the school joke for the next year.

4. I actually like some boyband songs. Some. Very Very Few. And NOT NSync.

5. I once spent five months living with my clothes in suitcases and my parents room because my cupboards were full of books.

6. I hate strawberries in all forms except fresh strawberries. I hate milkshakes, jam, preserves and shortcake. I love fresh strawberries. And I think its criminal to bury them in cream.

7. I cannot tell impasto from impressionism without google.com. I can however tell Pepsi from Coke. And I don't particularly enjoy Shakespeare. I also occasionally end sentences with prepositions. Not the biggest crime I can think of.

7.5. I have been awake for less than eleven hours in a highly unproductive day. This post is a desperate attempt to keep this blog from dying. I've rarely stuck to anything for this long. Ask my guitar instructor!

Begnadigen Sie mein Deutsche

2006-06-13T03:12:00.000+05:30

It was a Tuesday, I distinctly remember. All the strange things in life usually happen on Tuesdays don't they? On this particular Tuesday, I was idly flipping through a course catalog trying to pick courses for this term.

Have you noticed how things sound a lot more profound in a foreign language? Well, I have. You can say "My dog is wet" and sound like you've solved the world's energy crisis. Especially when the listener does not speak aforementioned language.

Anyway, having narrowed my options down to German and French, I decided to give the problem more thought.

French, incidentally, is a great language. Their umbrellas are male while their windows are feminine. And you can tell someone to go to an undesirably warm place governed by a man with horns, and sound like you're asking him to water the begonias.

Lovely, perfect!

Long story made longer, I'm taking German this term. (There's a very rational explanation for the above, but it probably won't make sense to you, so I'll just skip it shall I?)

German though, is not quite so bad. In German, you can say something perfectly useless, like "Once is No Time" and win the Jerusalem Prize

Most of my classmates in this course apparently know German. Like Socrates, I know nothing. Well, almost nothing. I can say Flughafen, Danke Schon and Guten Morgen. Though some would say "Good morning, Airport, Thank you" is enough German for one person.

If you were ever actually in Germany, it would get you right out!

Homeward Bound

2006-06-03T19:55:00.000+05:30

Did I just write a post about how much I hate packing? Let me reiterate - I detest it!

Anyway - Heading home for a week. Looking forward to Chennai. I think this is officially the longest I've been away from home!

Reservations about Reservation

2006-05-20T04:10:00.000+05:30

When you decide that 22.5% more seats should be reserved for special categories in higher educational institutions, several things could happen :

Magically, this could somehow improve the primary educational system to ensure that the quality of minority students entering equals or exceeds the quality of non-minority students entering the institute.

They could have access to jobs and rewards in the economic world to the same measure as 'mainstream' students without being subtly discriminated against, or side tracked like some of the other students who join institutes through non merit channels.

Until a few years ago, one could very clearly tell who had joined engineering college through the 'NRI - capitation' route, and who joined through the merit category. This stark difference could possibly not be replicated under Arjun Singh's scheme of things.

Better education opportunities could trickle down to reach those who really need it and government could at last stop with messy vote grabbing exercises and truly function 'for' the people.

Or, if you're a cynic like me, you'd worry instead that you could buy OBC certificates for Rs 1000.

I don't believe a reservation program should start in graduate school. The place for real reservation? In kindergarten. 50% of new schools set up by state government should be in areas that don't have access to primary education currently. Instead of perrenially doing what is easy or lucrative, the government should step up and reform education so that it is available to every child. Instead of playing state politics and planning long protests to bring back the mother tongue into schools and insist that all the gains we've made over the last 40 years by being educated in English - be wiped out, politicians should focus on getting textbooks, materials and teachers to those schools.

Instead of spending endless amount of the publics time on discussing whose version of history is right, politicians should implement policies that bring and keep children in school - so that they may avail of that education.

Having a reservation at AIIMS will not ensure that there are more dalit doctors, or that they are better treated. Equipping 30 Dalit children so that they are not denied the opportunity to become engineers or doctors or astronauts by giving them a good primary education, access to clean water and healthcare and the ability to get into AIIMS without needing reservations - now THAT will make a difference.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Updated :

http://www.ibnlive.com/news/devils-advocate-arjun-singh/11063-4-1.html

Do read this article. Is this articulate gentleman the person we want making decisions??

Five Ells..

2006-05-12T08:56:00.000+05:30

The good is rightly thought to be that at which all things aim. That was Aristotle by the way, not me. But if I asked you what you were aiming at, what would you say? Happiness? Identity?

What defines happiness?
What defines you?

Or are they answers to the same question?

All of the above, as I found myself saying earlier today, is completely irrelevant and perfectly true.

I've seen many people lose hope because they didn't get what they want. But nothing compares to the bitter disillusionment of a person who got exactly what they wanted, and then didn't know what to do with it.

Are we searching for answers without knowing the question?

Life. Love. Loss. Loneliness. And Laughter.

NY #5 : He's in Structured Credit..

2006-05-12T08:48:00.000+05:30

If you meet 10 Indian investment bankers on Wall Street, chances are - 9.8 of them work in structured credit. What a wierd coincidence!

NY #4 : Of Raw Fish and VBA

2006-05-03T08:19:00.000+05:30

Today I learnt a new language. I built an Excel spreadsheet using VBA that does some nice nifty stuff at the click of a button. Yes, I'm proud of it - So?

I also had sushi for the first time ever. With chopsticks. And soya sauce and ginger. I never expected to like raw fish - but loved it! I don't know about plain raw fish or even the seaweed wraps - but sticky rice with crab meat and fish - I loved. We then caught a Broadway musical - Hairspray. It was nice and fun except for some reason the entire place was over run by teenagers.

Not kids. Kids are cute and lovable. Teenagers, especially in large numbers are overwhelming and scary. I don't remember the last time I felt as old as I did amongst those 15 year olds in my black suit and pencil heels.

NY #3 : Why don't you go jump off a..

2006-04-30T14:22:00.000+05:30

Finally, a Saturday with great weather. We rented a convertible and took a road trip to Delaware Water Gap. Gorgeous drives in an open car with the wind in our hair! We spent the better part of the day driving around and then in the evening, we went.. (pa pa ra rum pum...) Sky Diving.

Which is basically getting on a plane, flying to 13000 ft and then jumping off. Free fall lasts for a minute and then parachutes open and you float down to earth. It was amazing! Just Amazing - to just fall out of a plane and fly :)

It been an amazing day, and now I must sleep (@ 5 am).

Take the A train

2006-04-25T06:49:00.000+05:30

Today, I left work and took the A train downtown to Fulton Street. I then took another train to Lexington avenue and walked along 23rd St until I found a grocery store. I came home and cooked Rava Upma and Mango pickle. My first proper Indian meal since getting here weeks ago. What drove me crazy was not just the endless parade of cold meat, bread and cold salad. It was the hyper expensive Indian meal I ordered of Biryani, which turned out to be plain rice with a sidebowl of an oily meat curry. (I think the idea was to mix the two together to create biryani!)

Eeeyuck!

But now I'm finally happy and full! Yay!

Ps : The title is one of the first jazz songs I heard. Got hooked onto the Duke since then.

The ABC of Choices

2006-04-23T21:42:00.000+05:30

This is inspired by a few people discussing which b-school to pick or whether to pick b-school at all. I went through something similar last year. And here's what I think :

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eventually, before you decide which school to go to - take five minutes and think about Why.

Why did you write the CAT/GMAT
Why did you want to go to business school

If you don't know what you're looking for in graduate school, you damn well won't find it.

It could be a higher paying job, challenging acquaintances, knowledge, fun, a chance to get away from it all for two years, or just some
additional letters after your name.

However, if you don't have some semblance of clarity as to why you are doing this, more often than not you're likely to be disappointed. If you want b-school to make you smarter, brighter, polish you, give you a large friends network and a job in Europe.. trading bonds - wake up and smell reality. B-school simply gives you a shot at all of these. Eventually what you make of it is just that.. what YOU make of it.

That said, I've been asked to rank A against B, C, X, Stern, Rutgers, Blah blah. I won't. Simply because I am not an educationist. I don't know anything about schools abroad and very little about Indian schools too.

I do know some things however :

I am not the type of person who chooses a place of study because it has nice weather, free flowing alcohol or is closer to home. I'm sure there are people who do make those choices, however i can't shed any light on the subject. Remember of course that to compensate for Ahmedabad's fiery summers, our classrooms and library are airconditioned. And where there is a will, there is a way. (I'm talking about going home.. what did you think? ;) )

Think about the worst thing that can happen after you leave IIMA, and see if you can live with that. More often than not, you usually can. And remember, life here is tough. So's life at Harvard, Wharton or Stanford.

BSchool is not really a place to relax and 'chill'. Anyone who tells you that, has probably learned to 'play' the system or has given up (I have too on occasion) - But school itself is designed to be tough. Atleast in the first year. So?

Really, what makes it tough is not the program alone. Its the peers with a keen competitive edge, your personal goals that push you to achieve something, all the movies you watch, the things you do, the partying, the sports, the hanging out with friends. (yes we do have lives!).

The years you spend at B-School will be hard. Atleast the first year at a good b-school will challenge you, and push you to some extent. It won't kill you however, and in the long run, you're unlikely to regret two years invested here. It won't be a cakewalk, but its not insurmountable horror either.

Before I picked A for example I was told I wouldn't have a life, I'd become a geek, I'd be sidelined and overwhelmed in a school filled with IIT 'studs' and I'd be too far away from home.

I've done two plays, gotten up on stage more than I did in four years of college, taken 6 trips back home, seen more movies than I probably did in the previous two years, made great friends, and far from being sidelined - have learnt a lot from both the IIT 'studs' and my peers from a variety of different backgrounds.

In the end, make the choice - and think about how you would describe your choice. Are you going to spend your life defining yourself as someone who went to school X? Or as someone who went to Y, followed by a few short sentences on why you picked Y even though you got X?

And eventually, whatever choice you make, b-school is a passport to something - a better life, a better job, a better career or simply a different one. But as with any other traveller, you have to book your own tickets.

Good luck!

Earlier Today

2006-04-10T08:38:00.000+05:30

Me : What's the point of that kind of charade? I know I'm lying, they know I'm lying, I know they know I'm lying.. you get the idea..

Friend : That sounds exactly like an HR interview..

;)

-------------------------------------------------------

Update : Maybe the above post required a little context. I and a friend were discussing parents and how its pointless to lie to them.

Interviews may be typically classified into two types (If you've ever tried getting into a b-school or a job, you'd know) - Technical and HR.

The technical interview is a rude awakening for both you and the interviewer. You realize that you in fact know nothing. Unfortunately so does the interviewer.

In a HR interview, your attitude and softer skills are tested. Here you eagerly convince b-school G (for want of a better letter) that even though you have calls from IIM A B C you're still seriously considering G and want v badly to get in there. (This is usually done to hedge, just in case you have non-HR interviews at A B C and don't make it through)

So there we go, this became a nice long post now :)

And Two

2006-04-09T08:38:00.000+05:30

This blog is now two years old. Through two cities and two schools, this space has been a neat companion and chronicle.

Here's to my dear blog! Hic! Hic! Hurrah!

:-)

NY #2 : You could always talk about the weather

2006-04-08T16:00:00.000+05:30

Unfortunately, its been raining all morning. So I've been snoozing on the couch. Here's hoping the weather clears up.

NY #1 : At midnight in the Village, there are no hardware stores open..

2006-04-08T00:50:00.000+05:30

What is open though, is Cafe Wha?. 115 MacDougal St is the home to many a musical/comedy talent in NYC. Heavyweights like Bill Cosby and Jimi Hendrix started their careers here.

We went there on a Friday night to listen to the live band belt out rock, soul, 80s hits and Beatle's numbers. New York so far, is mindblowing.

Lists and Lipgloss

2006-04-05T03:21:00.000+05:30

Packing is an exercise in optimism which eventually, ends in futility.

You never really pack.
You get boxes and tape and make lists and start to pack.
And then you start to pray.

Eventually, you get a big plastic bag for all the little stuff that couldn't be categorized and you can't bring yourself to throw away because 'what if you need it at 3 am on a tuesday' and you rue this moment when you chucked it out.

Lipgloss that a relative brought from abroad that I saved for special occasions, and has now turned rancid, old nailpolish that is perfectly preserved but totally not my color, a magazine I wanted to read last fall that is still lying under my bed are the latest casualties in my war against 'stuff'.

Then, and Now

2006-03-30T03:40:00.000+05:30

Then, she was two years old. You were 26. Travelling abroad, alone for the first time. Her father had a thousand instructions, “Keep your eyes on the bags - Bombay airport is dangerous.. Hold on to her, she’s a kid - she’ll just wander off with a stranger..”

Knowing him, I’m sure he sent you a drawing of Sahar Airport in a blue colored aerogramme. Drawn to scale in blue ink.

You’d tell her, ".. must hold on to mummy's mundhani and not let go.. ok?.. Ever!" She'd bob her head vigorously, wide eyed with excitement. She was bustling about the house on the last few days. Running upstairs and downstairs while you were trying to get the packing done. She would tell Thatha that she was going to a new city where the roads were lined with Gems and all cars were Toyotas. And she would bring back one for each relative who came to see you off.

She held onto your pallu tightly throughout the trip. At the noisy airport where you couldn't find a trolley for the bags, when you were checking in, at the security check when she saw the metal detector for the first time. All the way till baggage claim at Seeb International when she saw her father waiting outside. She ran to him with a shriek. Customs officials and Immigration counters be damned.

Today, she insists you carry a cellphone and calls three times before you board the flight. "Have you taken your tickets? Keep the boarding pass safe okay? Shall I get you some coffee? A sandwich?". She asks you to message as soon as you land in Bombay, and again when you get home. "Don't carry the bags okay Ma, just ask someone standing nearby to get it off the conveyer belt for you.."

She sounds exactly like her father, you think to yourself..

For my mom, For an awesome weekend and For 22 years

------------------
*Mundhani(aka Pallu) : the part of the saree draped over the shoulder
*Thatha : grandfather

A Very Warm Day

2006-03-19T17:19:00.000+05:30

It was a very warm day. Too early for summer. She dreaded what summer would be like. Already the cooler was running, the fan was on 5 and she felt hot and uncomfortable. The room smelled of dust. Dust everywhere. In the crevices of the keyboard, on top of everything. It felt like living in a desert.

She wanted to clean again. Almost three times a day she tidied and yet the dust it got in everywhere - in her nostrils, in her windpipe, till she felt herself choking on it.

She kept dreaming about the rain. Of travelling on a wide road with greenery all around and the wind lashing the rain onto her face. Her hair bundled tightly under a scarf, and a smile on her face. You could never make a sad face when the wind was blowing on you. You simply had to smile.

Thinking about those memories, she smiled to herself. She remembered interminable afternoons when she was stuck in school. Too hot to even concentrate on what the teacher was saying. And then a sticky ride back home jostling for space amongst twenty other kids in a tiny van. Showering with cold water from the fridge just to get rid of the heat.

Afternoons so close to the equator are meant only for sleeping. Swatting away flies with a piece of plastic doubling up as a fan and lying on the cold mosaic floor. Drinking elaneer* and eating grandmom’s set curd by the cup. Ladies woke up early in the evening and showered again. They dusted themselves with talcum powder at 4 only to turn into squidgy soft white masses by tiffin** time. The heat got to everyone. It crept into the dark shadows of rooms, on the floor, in the air. She drank water by the bottle and when that wasn’t enough, ate ice.

She remembered sitting by the table fan and devouring books, one after another. The childhood association remained and even today on warm afternoons, she wanted to lie in bed with a book and a bottle of cold juice by her side.

She thought about all those summers of long ago and sighed. It was early March still.

Waiting for November.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
* Coconut Water
** Early evening meal

A Walk to Remember

2006-03-14T14:23:00.000+05:30

Last night, I went for a walk. Bought a coffee with chocolate sauce and took a long walk past LKP, RJM etc. For those who don't know - these are the beautiful lawns near our academic blocks and the auditorium respectively.

The great thing about living on campus is that you can see the stars. Unlike the city where stars are drowned out by streetlights and buildings, you can look up and see the clear night sky studded with stars. When I was a kid, my dad used to take us up to the terrace and point out stars to us. I learned to recognize the Hunter, Orion (the Hunter's belt), Sirius etc. Occasionally we would see Venus, and once even Saturn.

Dizzy Row, Day Won, Date U?

In other news, placements just got over with most previous records being beaten hollow. For detailed stats, just turn to the front page of any pink paper :) But this post is not about the salaries, offers, numbers, figures or inevitable comparisons with D/E/F. It can't be!

Its about the people behind all these dollar dreams. In a few days they'll be gone and these corridors will feel more empty. Until a new batch comes pouring in that is.
But before they go, here's a toast to the class of 2006. Here's to the investment bankers who're making headlines. To the consultants, marketers and future managers of India Inc. Here's to the intrepid few who are taking the roads less travelled.

May the journey be as exciting as the final destination!

Down Memory Lane

2006-03-05T04:00:00.000+05:30

This is a Tag that was left in the comments to an earlier post. As you can see its 4 am and I don't have much to do. So here goes!

What were you doing..

Eleven Years Ago
It was 1995. I was 12 years old. I had spent my winter break in London and Paris and was over the moon about it. I'd spent months reading about everything in both cities what to find in Madame Tussauds and what to order at Berthillons.

I was in the 7th standard and used to play tennis on weekends. I was averaging I think two to three books per week and used to devour science fiction (mostly Asimov). I was living in a huge apartment complex with a large bunch of friends and we used to go rollerskating, cycling, swimming and play tennis/cricket.

I twisted my wrist the first time I tried to catch a ball. I realized that cricket was not my sport. I had got a chemistry set as a gift and I and Divya tried to make soap in my balcony while our parents worried that we'd burn the building down.

I was listening to Backstreet Boys (!$#%) and was an earnest Girl Guide. I had really long hair (Think waist length) and used to wear it in two pigtails with white ribbons. I was class monitor, and truly - quite a geek!

Five Years Ago
It was 2001. I was writing my 12th board exams. Was nervous about getting into a good engineering college after school. I look at my sister and cousins these days and realize that I was quite clueless back then. I somehow coasted along and got into a good college and had four awesome years there!

Last Year
Was going to Banglore every second week to attend interviews. Agonized over which institute to pick etc. Was busy preparing for GD/PIs and getting a lot of gyaan from seniors :-)

Yesterday
Had a 4000 word submission for my WAC (Written Analysis and Communication)course. Worked on it all night and all morning. Finally finished and submitted with ten minutes to spare. Slept all evening and missed 2 meetings. Had a 'ramp' in the night and danced for hours. Saw Munich and didn't like it as much as I expected to.

If you read this tag and smiled, or thought about what you were doing 11/6/1 year ago, leave a comment or blog about it on yours. And leave a link.

Cheers and Happy Reminiscing!

Joka's Dirty Laundry vs Vastrapur Luncheons

2006-03-01T01:17:00.000+05:30

When a group of students from different institutes meet :

A guy/girl from IIT will say he's from IIT. S/he'll briefly make fun of Bombay, Delhi, Guwahati or whichever IIT s/he is NOT from and then move on to bond with them over the price of onions, the lack of academic research or the school systems in California and costs of private tuition.

A guy/girl from IIM A/B/C will immediately launch into the finer nuances of the differences between IIM A/B/C on topics ranging from architecture to the quality of friday night mess food, the alcohol laws of Gujarat, Banglore's infrastructure and the latest b-school rankings.

Just a thought in response to Ms Bansal's frivolous comments on Joka's infrastructure. (No i will not post a link)

Men vs Animal

2006-02-24T13:15:00.000+05:30

Q : Whats the difference between a human being and an animal in India

A : If you shoot an animal, you go to jail even if you're a famous actor
If you shoot a human being and papa's in power in a North Indian state, you go scot free

Funny?

I didn't think so..

There are about 50 black bucks in the deer park in Punjab
There was only one Jessica Lall

Baker's Dozen

2006-02-14T20:54:00.000+05:30

When I was in college, I used to cook quite often. Garlic mushroom tapas, Penne with tomato sauce, killer ommelettes and the king of conundrums - a vegetarian biryani..

But my favorite was dessert. I used to churn out light chocolate mousses, cakes and pastries. I learnt to make my mom's famous apple crumble, gooey brownies etc. My special creation was a chocolate sponge layered with chocolate mousse, covered with icing and studded with chocolate chips.

This weekend, after months away from the kitchen, I finally got to cook again.

Three chefs (My mom, sister and me)..

..started from scratch..

..to create..

.. the perfect cake!
---------------------------------------------------------------------

Update : The recipe

The recipe calls for equal amounts of egg, sugar, flour and butter - making it one of the simplest recipes. 200 grams of each would make a small cake that'll serve about six as dessert.

Combine 200g of slightly melted butter and sugar in a large bowl and whisk together with a wooden spoon. Keep whisking until mixture forms peaks when lifted with a spoon.

In a seperate bowl, whisk together 200 gm of eggs (this should be about 3 eggs if you're cooking in India). Whisk well until mixture has a lot of air in it. Once this is well whisked, add to the bowl containing sugar-butter mixture.

Mix well. Sieve the flour thrice with a tablespoon of baking powder. Add this flour to the egg-butter mix in small quantities. Mix with a metal spoon.

Preheat an oven to 180 degrees Centigrade. Grease a baking dish and pour this mixture into the dish. Bake for about 30-40 minutes. Check if it is done by inserting a fork into the center. If the fork comes out clean then the cake is done.

Allow to cool on a wire rack.

Icing can be made by mixing butter and icing sugar with a few drops of vanilla and chocolate powder. Ice cake. Add chocolate chips and vermicelli as desired.

Bon Appetit!

Be a Rebel..

2006-02-05T10:47:00.000+05:30

When I walked out of the movie theatre last evening, I said I hated it. When I spent half the night replaying some of the beautiful scenes from the movie, I realized I only hated parts of it.

Rang De Basanti is not a movie you are going to skip anyway. Its got too much hype, too much political correctness going for it. And I enjoyed parts of it. The cinematogrpahy is mindblowing. The music is hauntingly good.

The script alone lets you down. The idea is great. But I felt the transition from delhi brats to patriots could have been handled much better. It was so mass marketingly crass - 'maar dalo'! I guess I just felt let down that these guys had such a great cast/crew, such a great audience, and they let it all go to waste in fantastic nonsense.

The juxtaposition of Bhagat Singh and modern life was interesting, but again, I felt, carried too far.

I also loved the pre-intermission part. Very DCH! The ending few minutes were also poignant. Yet, the whole transition was just not executed well. In a movie like Yuva - I can see the individual character and their change. Here, I guess due to the limitations of the canvas and the larger cast, this wasn't done to the same extent.

It is a painful exercise in stretching your imagination, but ignore the slightly wierd bits and its an interesting movie. And one of the most beautifully shot movies I have seen in ages. With amazing music! Totally amazing!

Would I see it again? Yep - But on DVD this time, so I can f/f the idiotic bits :)

Hand Tattoos and Head Scratching

2006-02-02T23:51:00.000+05:30

I have this habit of writing down what I need to do on neat little lists. Somehow the act of making the list makes me feel I am in control, when more often than not - I am not. It also helps me feel that I'm doing something productive when more often than not, I am not.

So now I have a neat list of 200 odd Post its (with more soft copies on my desktop) and too much stuff to do. What I've learnt in two terms is that backlogs somehow never get cleared.

In a grand bid to save the earth, I've started writing these to do lists on the side of my hand. Combine this with my new resolve to conserve water, and my hand looks like a warzone. With QM assignments competing for skinspace with READ OM!! Do Laundry Today! and Submit MKT!

I know I haven't blogged in a while, but have been trying to read, writing a bit and pondering a lot on the meaning of life and why towels get dirty.

Saw Chapter Two last week in chennai. The play was great, with awesome performances. I especially loved Karuna's role. Perhaps it moved a tad slowly, but typical Neil Simon and hence forgiven.

Additionally I ran into a whole bunch of juniors from college, including one who slandered my good name post play. My sister pointed out last evening that this turned to libel when he posted about it too. Its a mighty small world after all.

Fight Club

2006-01-23T14:13:00.000+05:30

Its strange that I hadn't seen this movie in all these years. Virtually every person I know quotes from it and has told me repeatedly to see it. This weekend, I was in bed with the flu and finally managed to catch this flick.

I loved that I didn't know the twist in the end until I saw it. In today's world of sms and instant messengers, a story's plot is often the first thing to get leaked out. All the movies last summer had no surprises for me. It was just three hours of drooling over a hero and waiting for someone to die.

This was different! and Thank God for all the people who didn't give away the plot :)

Totally blew my mind away and now I'm reading the book

If you woke up at a different place, in a different time, could you wake up as a different person?

Movie Mania

2006-01-11T11:48:00.000+05:30

People react to 'To Do' lists in different ways. Some spend 3/4 th of the time alloted to a task simply making lists and then the remaining 1/4th panicking because they have no time to execute the perfect plan. Still others choose the proactive approach of Procrastinate Now! unlike lazy bums who just waste their time.

Me? I watch movies..

Movies I've seen recently :

The Butterfly Effect
Chasing Amy
A Fish Called Wanda
The Mating Habits of the Earthbound Human
Memento
Requiem for a dream
The Usual Suspects
Love Actually
Shopgirl
Hitch
The Firm

Ghajini
Kanda Naal Mudhal
Adhu Oru Kanakaalam
Kaadhal

Scrubs season 4
Monty Python's And now for something completely different

You can just imagine how much work I got done!!

Kanda Naal Mudhal

2006-01-02T02:14:00.000+05:30

Its been a little more than a month I think since this movie was released. I finally got to see it only a few days ago. Unlike your typical run of the mill masala movie, this one has no villain, no hero, no action scenes, no car chases, no songs in the rain, no item numbers and few tears. Its a simple story of a girl, two boys, an arranged marriage and some complications in between. If you haven't already caught this flick, do so! Its worth it.

Prasanna has cropped up in the recent past in some refreshingly nice movies. I enjoyed five star, and definitely enjoyed his performance in this move too. Laila is tolerable after the first five minutes. I only wish they could find actresses who could speak the language without sounding like they had a gun to their heads. Karthik plays the second male lead. For the second time, he is slotted into the urban NRI role, though this time we are spared the 'firang' accent (Unlike his earlier role in Alaipayuthe). His role is small but well portrayed.

The first half of the movie has all together too many songs. The war-scene song for example is totally avoidable. But on the whole, its a refreshing flick and well worth a watch.

Happy NewYear

2006-01-01T19:37:00.000+05:30

Hope the year ahead brings you much prosperity and joy

:-)

Her Story

2005-12-25T00:47:00.000+05:30

This post was written by my sister

A woman working in a call centre in Bangalore was raped, and then murdered. A few weeks later, I received a forward carrying pictures taken after her death, and the message :

“With due respects to the lady who has been murdered, please take a look at the dress that she had worn(a sleeveless shirt and a pair of jeans) during the macabre incident. This should be an eye opener to all the parents who have some misdirected souls as their daughters and also to all those morons who think that wearing less clothes and being foolishly bold is a measure of modernity...Well, one lady has paid the price...atleast, be careful from now on...”

This made absolutely no sense to me, because the entire event was pre planned. Any six year old could conclude that the assault had nothing to do with what the girl was wearing.

However, the mail represented a deeper issue.

A common belief, I have recently discovered, is that women who don’t dress conservatively are asking for trouble. Therefore, if they get raped, it is their fault to a large extent. It is believed that they are only provoking men(who are naturally unable to control hormonal rages as they still remain barbarians from the stone age) by showing skin.

The truth is, it simply doesn’t matter what women wear. A girl in a salwar still hears leering remarks as she crosses the road, and probably gets harrassed more than a girl in a t shirt, simply because she looks more vulnerable.

When will society learn to punish the perpetrator instead of the victim? Instead of expressing outrage, we send emails blaming the girl. In the name of a conservative culture, we shy away from reality and hide behind walls of half baked opinions with no substance.

Somewhere, we are confusing preservation of our cultural identity with condoning ruthless crime.

Tea Time

2005-12-22T18:38:00.000+05:30

I've tried tetra pack milk instead of milk powder, eight different kinds of tea bags, and recently have taken to using three tea bags per cup.

My tea still tastes like old dishwashing liquid.

Everybody's Homesick

2005-12-19T12:28:00.000+05:30

It's not just me.

Last week, I was talking about all the things I miss about being at home. Now for those of you who are not engineers, the final year of engineering is, in one word, timepass. All the extra currics are organized by 3rd yr students. The workload is light simply because most students are very busy applying to schools in the US for their post graduate programs. For those of us who are not, its literally 7-8 months of total 'vetti'ness.

I remember endless days spent at Anokhi, Amethyst or the Beach. We'd spend hours just chatting about the most mundane things, throw sand/water at each other on the beach, go for drives, go for CAT class and spend more time at Gangotree across the road etc etc.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who's nostalgic and misses home. So does my friend mahathi

Sunday Morning

2005-12-18T12:04:00.000+05:30

Everything on campus is in slow motion. Dbabble, our internal bulletin board and messaging service seems dead. Usually, boards have a new message every 5 mins. Some every 30 secs. But on Sunday morning, they are all on a break. People usually sleep in till late. Lunch is skipped, to be substituted by a late meal from Cafe Tanstaafl.

My Sunday Morning :
* Set the alarm for 6.30
* Wake up at 8.30
* Snooze for another half hour
* Wake up and brush my teeth
* Move suitcases, put away my shoes, and take out the vacuum cleaner
* Clean my room - It looks so nice now
* Make coffee
* Order toast and juice
* Chat with friends who are winding down after a Saturday night
* Breakfast, watch two episodes of scrubs :-)
* Decide to study
* Blog instead

Thalaivar's Birthday

2005-12-12T13:49:00.000+05:30

:-)

What If

2005-12-05T01:58:00.000+05:30

She was the new girl in the class. She walked in late on the third day after school had started. You saw her standing at the edge of the gang of girls opening their lunch boxes during the break. Nervous and Shy. What if you had smiled at her instead of looking away?

“I’ve had enough - This is over. And this time I’m not joking.” What if at that moment, you didn’t open the door of the car and step out. What if you stayed? What if you looked back?

The proctor announces, “Your time starts now”. You tear open the plastic of the bulletin. Phew! 2 marks, ½ marks. You smile. At the very least, its going to be interesting. What if you had got up then and walked away?

What if you had got over your fear of cats? What if you had a dog? What if you had managed to keep diaries? Or resolutions?

What if you never started a sentence with “I need to tell you something”?

What if you had never heard that song? You borrowed his discman for the bus journey. Your Woman - White Town You remembered a tune from long ago that you had never found. You looked at him and smiled.

What if they had changed their minds? What if they had named you something else? What if you were the first on the roll call instead of 58th?

What if you had never cut your hair? If you were never called “The girl with short hair”? What if you had never discovered Ayn Rand that summer? Or Kundera? What if you had never found a kindred spirit? What if you had believed in the tooth fairy? Or God?

What if you had taken the plunge? Then, when you were young and the spirit was strong, before you became weak and "settled". What if you had kept old love letters?

What if you had cheated in that exam? What if you had just said "No"? What if you had saved those hundred bucks for something else?

What if none of it mattered? What if nothing changed?

What if all those years ago, early morning in a temple, one of them had said “Appa I’m not so sure about this”?

It has been said that something as
small as the flutter of a butterfly's
wing can ultimately cause a typhoon
halfway around the world

Inspired by The Butterfly Effect. Which is one of the most brilliant movies I've seen recently

December's Here

2005-12-01T18:06:00.000+05:30

I’ve turned 22, and suddenly am feeling extremely restless. We had a large number of students from foreign schools down on campus for Confluence. By and large, all of them have done so much, experienced so much, I feel naïve in comparison. One of our exchange students has modelled in Paris and Milan, waitressed at restaurants and is now majoring in economics and math. Feeling restless that I’ve never really struck out on my own and explored, or truly lived!

Classes, which somehow seemed magical in term 1, now are losing their sheen. High attendance requirements get us to the classroom, but it takes a great prof to keep us riveted. More often than not, this doesn’t happen. And the system is designed such that there is no time for reflection or learning. You prepare for class, but there is no feedback on that preparation. As such, outside of our group meetings, there is not too much learning. There is no reflection on whether this approach can be tweaked. And somehow, I feel I’m never really getting my hands dirty doing real work. After a few terms of marketing, apart from being able to spew meaningless jargon, I don’t feel I’d have really learnt much.

Tomorrow, in our ISPE class, we are scheduled to have a debate on secularism vs Hindu nationhood. The professor contends that one group believes that we should have one religion and one way of life. The other believes that secularism is the way to go. The prof also gave us the impression that the latter is mostly pseudo secularists. Outside, in discussions we branded them hypocrites. While the former are tentatively branded fundamentalists of sorts.

I don’t know why I feel so uncomfortable in my gut. I don’t want to attend the class (though will have to) and I definitely don’t want to be a part of this debate. People are not allowed to opt out of the debate and have to pick one of two polarized positions. In the profs words “It is time to stand up and be counted”. Fine, grand words indeed. But discussing hindutva scares me. Somehow, people who believe they can impose their way of living on others freaks me out!

This may make me one of the so called pseudo secularists but I truly believe there is not “us” vs “them”. Another source of confusion is where I would belong. I’m hindu by birth, but I believe in God rather than a hindu one. I don’t think the average muslim/christian/sikh/jain/xyz is any different from me. I celebrate valentine’s day and wear jeans. I don’t think anyone has the right to tell me what to wear or how to behave with members of the opposite sex. I don’t think mainstream politics is right. Its extremely marginalized with fighting amongst various factions each claiming superiority due to historic wrongs done to them. I think this is a bad thing. But homogeniety with one hindu way of life is not the answer.

I’m proud of India’s secular nature. As tentative and weak as secularism’s hold remains. Call me a hypocrite, but I prefer this place with its crappy newspapers and loud parliamentary arguments to a religious fundamentalist state like the US or Saudi Arabia. I like that I have the right over my body and constitutionally I have the right to practice whatever I want. I don’t think the state should decree that I can’t eat beef or that Krishna can’t be made fun of in a movie.

Agreed, there are a lot of things wrong with India. And the urban middle class India needs to stand up and be counted. But I don’t want to pick one of two extremist positions and defend myself. And I don’t want to go to class the day after that with someone who believes that Muslim’s should accept the Hindu way of life.. To tell the truth, the very thought of such fundamentalism, scares me!

3 Happy Things

3. I’ve been going for a walk in the evenings for the past few days. About half an hour by myself. And the road. Its an awesome feeling. And for the first time since I’ve been here, I’m getting some exercise.

2. I found an old song I used to listen to when I was a kid. Hawa Hawa, Khusbhoo Luta De. Been listening to nice music lately.

1. My cousin had a baby boy a few days back. That makes me a proud first time aunt. I’ll be the one who takes the kid out for chocolate ice cream and lets him stay up and watch cartoons. Looking forward to seeing the lil bundle in a few weeks.

Wake up

2005-11-24T14:51:00.000+05:30

Few people have the courage to stand up for principles and honesty.

Few people have the integrity to risk their life for the truth.

Those few are often sacrificed.

And forgotten.

The media, has more interesting things to talk about.
An old corrupt politician is finally ousted to be replaced by more of the same. It rains. A match is cancelled. A don is captured. The sensex falls. A new cabinet takes the oath in a neighbouring country. A woman chancellor is sworn in.

A man, died.
He was killed for not succumbing to pressure in a corrupt land.
The mainstream media it seems, has no place for brash management students from IIML who are murdered.
For doing their job.

Manjunathan, Rest in Peace

I hope his death is not in vain

Read the Indian Express City Line Report here

I first read about it at Gaurav's Blog. He has a link to more stories on this.

Dream a Little Dream

2005-11-17T18:34:00.000+05:30

Summers is finally over. The blanket ban is off. We're a batch that has been fully placed by the second slot! Which is a great thing :)

When I started this whole thing, I wasn't really sure where I'd end up. I still am not. I often don't exactly know what I want to do. I have a general idea about what I want from life. I want to work to satisfy intellectual curiosity and make enough money to afford my family's dreams. I want time to pursue things that interest me. I want to travel a lot. And someday I want to write.

How all of this will fit in into a larger five/ten year plan? I'm not sure. After giving it a lot of thought, I've decided that perhaps I don't need one.

Summers itself, was a tiring but nice experience. The day started at 6.50 with a phone call from home and a mad rush to get dressed. After 8 hours of running around in Ahmedabad weather in a suit, it ended with an offer for the summer and dinner sponsored by Merrill Lynch.

Random Thoughts

2005-11-04T10:55:00.000+05:30

No Surprises Here..
I've very few classes this week. Unlike the usual first year schedule. And the PGP office doesn't schedule quizzes this week. So one of the 'chillest' times on campus. Except that ibank shortlists are coming out and everyone is stressed.

If you don't make it, you're stressed about not making day zero and not getting a job of your choice.

If you do, you're (if possible) more stressed about still not converting it and not getting a job of your choice.

What's Playing..
Have been listening to some of Girish's music yesterday. Amazing Stuff! He and his friends have got real talent!

It's a small world..
I had a phone interview with a firm yesterday, where someone from their London office called for a short chat. Turns out he was Karthik's classmate. It really is a v small world :-)

Growing up..

2005-10-31T21:50:00.000+05:30

I catch a cold every time the season changes. Chennai to Ahmedabad hasn't changed that.

At home, I used to curl up in my bed with hot cocoa, blankets and a nice book. I'd 'intercom' my mom every time I wanted something and spend the week in luxury.

Today, I washed my own handkerchiefs, applied vicks on my face and went to sleep.

If this is what growing up is, then I want no part of it.

I miss my mom..

:-(

Summer's Here

2005-10-29T22:44:00.000+05:30

It's that time of the year again. When we all dress up in suits and scarves and pointed painful shoes. We attend twenty odd company presentations every week and fill what seems like a billion forms.

The nervous tension is palpable. Suddenly, all 260 of us want to be i bankers :-) and are praying for shortlists and wondering what to do after they come out.

Which basically means, I have no time to blog. Too much to do.. classes, midterms, placements, mugging..

So I'll be off for a while..
Back on the 17th with hopefully something to celebrate :)

Ta!

Through an Open Window

2005-10-18T14:00:00.000+05:30

The trouble with everything is that it starts out so romantically in your head. The idea of lounging endlessly on a beach chair, watching time go by in the company of lime mint coolers and tall palms.

Sitting on the steps of a train compartment at 5 am in the morning. Feeling the wind rush by in rain soaked Kerala. The very notion conjures up images of green fields, swaying coconut palms, backwaters and steaming hot chai.

Yet, in real life, there are always mosquitoes, stinking loos and "Oops! I forgot to pack my toothbrush".

I want to be able to find romance in that. That's right.

In forgotten toothbrushes and mismatched socks.

Hullaballoo in the Blogosphere

2005-10-12T12:26:00.000+05:30

It's just not right.
In fact, I'd go so far as to say its wrong.
And also, Stupid.
What was IIPM thinking? It came out with all guns blazing to silence a 'tiny yellow magazine of no consequence' and met the full fury of the blogging world.
Strong arm tactics, legal (sic!) notices, anonymous commenting and the utter lack of mainstream media coverage (guess who spent crores on advertising in these newspapers over the last quarters?)

Still wondering who Rashmi Bansal, Gaurav Sabnis, IIPM are? Know More

I did what the Voices told me

2005-10-10T01:15:00.000+05:30

I read in the paper this morning about George Bush's conversations with God. Apparently this is the reason he decided to invade Iraq. I've heard of Indian politicians doing some mighty strange things but stories of George and Tony praying together before launching attacks on Iraq sound somehow, more discomforting.

Maybe I was hoping that a decision to bomb a country back into the stone age would be based on a little more than tiny voices in one's head.

The more important question is, how did Michael Moore not know this??

I'm supposedly busy with a lot of things these days. Classes which are going on. Insight and Confluence which are two important b-school fests of contrasting natures. Summer placements and endless company forms to fill out. But mostly, I'm sitting in my room, reading like a maniac and writing like a mad mad hatter.

More on that, later..

This is not a post

2005-10-03T18:46:00.000+05:30

It started out as one. It started out as a really long post to make up for a prolonged absence. It started with a bang really. A very nice opening sentence. But then, I couldn't finish that and couldn't really find anything else to say.

It's 6.50 pm now and I have an economics class at 7 pm. So again, as usual I have no time. I'm finding recently that I simply don't have the time for things that are important. All these niggling urgent tasks come in the way of all the important things. So now, since I can't type out a long post, I'll just leave after typing out a short one.

The past few days i've been reading plays. The thing about a play is that its all raw emotion. On the surface. Its real life. There is no show and tell. It's just real people as they are, emotions, conversations, thoughts.

It's complicated and sometimes messy, but often, so is life. And a good play makes me think for a week.

I read Mahesh Dattani's second volume of plays. I've been unfortunate enough to have never seen one in action. But I love them reading them anyway. This set holds no candle to his first volume. These are mostly written for the screen rather than the stage. That said, the detective plays are entertaining and the radio plays are thought provoking. 30 days in September is a play you need to see to understand.

Strangely, I liked Mango Souffle more than a On a Muggy Night in Bombay. (Former is a screenplay based on the latter which was written for the stage). There is no need for a tight space to showcase all of them, scenes can be set across time and space in a movie, which makes for more interesting reading.

I also re-read Badal Sircar's evam indrajeet. It's one of my favorite plays and always gets me thinking. If you haven't seen a performance of the play, you're missing something. A heavy play, you often need a day or two to digest it after reading it, but it is a powerful piece of work that speaks directly to you.

This then, is my heaven. A few minutes stolen for a secret mistress. My accounting text stares down at me, Kotler gives me a disapproving glance, while i sneak off to spend another half an hour with a book. But excuse me now, it's 6.55 pm. And as I said before I have a class at 7 pm.

Wimwi - Water Wonderland

2005-09-24T19:23:00.000+05:30

Its raining in Ahmedabad.

Home Sweet Home

2005-09-19T10:31:00.000+05:30

Term 1 ended and we literally ran outta there. Caught a flight to Bombay followed very closely by one to Chennai. God Bless Jet. Every other carrier out of Ahd was delayed by hours for some reason. And finally, after three months of waiting.. Am HOME!! :)

No sudden realizations here, I've known for a while that I miss Chennai. I miss talking to people in tamil. Miss my parents and sister. Miss my friends here. I literally "grew up" here.

And am now back for a week of home food, telling dad about courses, hanging out with friends and catching up on stuff.

Saw Salaam Namaste which is surprisingly good. Also saw Biloxi Blues. Which was fun but ribald.

Thinking about all the things i love about this place. Filter Coffee, grandmom's house, the Beach, Satyam Cinema, friends, always running into people you know, family, veetu sappadu ('home food').

I love Madras..

Rant

2005-09-13T21:38:00.000+05:30

Anna University now wants to introduce a dress code for female students. I do not understand what the purpose of this is. Somehow in their warped minds, they think this will improve concentration in class and discipline. By outlawing jeans, they think they can also outlaw hormones, chemistry and puberty from college campuses in one shot.

Another grand argument that is forwarded is that this will somehow protect women students. B@#!@s.

The only thing that will protect women students is if every dad teaches his son to respect women. If he respects his wife and every woman he meets and encourages his son to too.

Molest, Rape, Eve Teasing, Sexual Harrasments are not crimes of ardour or passion commited because a girl was in jeans or in a bikini. They are crimes of power perpetrated in a patriarchal society simply because it gives the perpetrator a "kick".

Mr. Jeppiar, why do you laud this retrograde move? Because you can now exercise greater control over students? Are we really trying to say that a person who is 18 years old is not old enough to decide what she wants to wear?

We dont have a dress code on campus. And yet, morals haven't degraded to the point of no return, standards haven't slipped. Women don't get harassed, ogled or teased.

And yet, back in engineering college, where we DID have a salwars only dress code, we got ragged on the bus, commented on, ogled at. There were days when the prospect of getting on the bus was frustrating. When the only thing we could do was to swear under our breath at the ill mannered louts who apparently came from sophisticated urban backgrounds.

Perhaps, chancellors and educated gentlemen, it is my fault. I should have dressed more carefully, worn a burkha perhaps?

Or maybe, just maybe, we should punish perpetrators instead of the victims of a crime? Or is that too foreign a concept for you'll?

Trident, Diet Coke and the Power Puff Girls

2005-09-13T12:39:00.000+05:30

When i first started living on my own, I thought it would take a week for my room to turn into a disaster zone. Surprisingly, I've lasted the past few months without burning up anything, breaking (wel.. hardly) anything or running out of clean clothes.

The past week however is a different story. Our dorm is one of the few dorms without a pantry. So we stock our rooms with enough stuff to survive a nuclear war. I usually have abundant supplies of chocolate, chips, cola, murukku, thattai, tang, coffee, tea, biscuits et al. (Now you know the secret behind "study group meetings" in D2)

I've now run out of it all. Living on Trident sugarfree chewing gum and endless cans of diet coke. Which as anyone will tell you covers atleast three significant food groups (fats, sugars and uh.. protein?)

Finally did my laundry after a week and it starts raining. So not only am i starving, but i'm starving in a room that smells like mold.

And judging by the underside of my dressing cum pantry table, looks like mold too.

I got so excited about going home that i packed one tiny bag a few days back. If only i could find it under the heaps of clothes, plastic bags, blanket, sheets, and papers that is my room.

And the power puff girls? They're on my pencil box.

The reason behind all of this is of course, the fact that we have exams. 2 per day. In, i hope, decreasing order of intensity. It started off with OM. I managed to build a hundred houses in 28xx days, and then got hit by the last question. Just in Time.

We walked out of there nursing our wounds only to find that the ECO paper was, if possible, even tougher. I enjoyed drawing colored graphs and doing differential calculus. If only I knew a little bit more about wages and minimum rates.

This morning was the mother of all events. MANAC. After about 21 sessions, 6 quizzes, a few odd rems by our friendly neighbourhood CAs, Three AM panic calls "What do i do when the salvage value is positive, do i account for it in depreciation?", four cans of diet coke and six hours of sleep... it finally happened. For the first time in my life, a balance sheet did just that. I nearly fell off the chair :) Its not perfect, it might be wrong, a balancing sheet does not mean a thing... but i'm still thrilled by that one magic moment when the number shone on my Fx 150, matching the ones down on paper. :)

Off to HRM now. 5 exams and 2 flights away from home sweet home.

Among Other Things

2005-09-10T12:12:00.000+05:30

The Ammani fever hits here too. The lady is extremely talented and poignant. This is my posting of stories that i never had time to finish or flesh out. Short takes.

Term 1 draws to a close

2005-09-05T16:59:00.000+05:30

11 days to go
8 exams
4 more days of classes
2 submissions left
1 excited/ exhausted/ enervated/ enthused/ energized/ engaged/ engrossed/ enlightened fachchi

We've almost made it through first term at wimwi. Its like someone suddenly floored the brake pedal, forcing you to stop for about two minutes and reflect on it. Its not enough to gain any sort of perspective, but i know it has been fun. Its been a learning experience. And its been hard at some points of time.

Strangely, for those two minutes, you remember the person you were last year. Preparing for CAT, hanging out with friends, living at home. And you know you've changed permanently in so many small ways. You've done a lot of things you wouldn't have earlier. You've somehow "grown up".

And yet, for all that change, you're still the same lil girl. Who can't wait to go home and hog on mom's cooking, stay up all night talking to the three most important people in your life, and drink hot cocoa before bed.

Growing old is mandatory, Growing up is an option

-Calvin

Hindi - Garbaa'd

2005-09-02T21:30:00.000+05:30

I have this classmate. He's a Tamilian who is learning to speak hindi. Some of the things he does to the language are mighty interesting..

Garbaa'ish
1. Tu bada pathar, bada samay
2. mein ab pad raha hoon. Aadmi - Thandaa ka dabba
3. Akela hilna dhulna (This is dopey's contribution)

And this one takes the cake : Last night, he posts a message on the NB tellin me :
4. Suze, Jaane ka rasta..

I initially thought he was showing me a metaphorical door, when i realise what he actually means is :

1. You're rocking big time
2. I'm studying MAN-AC now
3. Individual Dynamics

4. Suze, Way to go..

Not bad for someone who hadn't spoken too many words of hindi before coming here. Garbaa, tum bilkul bade pathar ho.. utake upar rakho..

Lagey Raho!

Biloxi Blues

2005-09-01T14:05:00.000+05:30

Evam is doing Biloxi Blues in September. Promises to be fun. Check out more on their website

And most importantly, i'll get to see this. Cos guess what.. I'm going HOME!!

T - 16 days and counting..

Blog Day

2005-08-31T21:55:00.000+05:30

Today is blog day.. so here are the new blogs i've discovered and would like to recommend

Girish is my classmate at Wimwi and is an amazingly talented musician, photgrapher, sleeper in class.

Another new blog that i like is Oka's take on life at WimWi. Entertaining :)

Haven't discovered any other blogs recently, hope blog day corrects that!

Overheard..

2005-08-30T16:32:00.000+05:30

We've had a very long and complicated case this week in Manac that's left almost the entire class feeling like we've been hit by a truck. We stumble out of the class dazed by Accounting Standards and Deferred Tax liabilites.

Everything seems to make sense for one magic moment. And then, the moment is gone.

See, Manac is like an onion. You keep peeling it layer by layer. Of course at the end, you'll be left with nothing but a lot of tears.

- Management Accounting professor

The Funniest thing i've read in ages..

2005-08-25T18:13:00.000+05:30

No.. seriously..

I have some reservations about this one

2005-08-25T14:54:00.000+05:30

I don't understand why the Women's bill is being passed. I don't understand why women are pleased about it.

Should we have more women politicians? Why not..

But are reservations the way to go to achieve that? I don't think so. What do you think will happen now? Instead of Laloo we'll have Rabri. What will this achieve? Increased sensitivity towards women in the parliament? Fat chance!

We'll have a bunch of figurehead women with men behind them making the decisions. The fact that we have so few women in politics, business or any other field is not a problem in itself. It is simply a symptom of deeper malaises.

Our social conditioning still limits women from getting involved in politics. You have the rare Brinda Karat or Sheila Dixit. But they are few and far between. At the grass roots level there are few women getting involved in politics. That is a loss to society because women generally tend to seek solutions rather than seeking to expand their power. (this is a general sweeping assumption based largely on Gilligan's arguments against Kohlberg's research - ethics of care etc)

Coming back to the stop gap solution proposed by the govt, i think it is a short sighted move that won't really help anyone at all.

Was having a conversation with a batchmate yesterday about how few women there are on campus. He observed that when he wrote CAT, atleast 40% of the people in the exam center were female. Yet only 40 out of 300 people here are female. What happened?

I refuse intuitively to believe that women are lacking in intellect in any way. I think somehow, through some mechanism of social conditioning, women are gently weaned away from considering further education beyond the age of 21-23.

Take your average 23 yr old girl who has just finished CA. If she's contemplating writing CAT, nine times out of ten her parents will start worrying about when she will ever get married. I've had people who asked my dad "How are you letting her study an MBA.. where will you go for a more qualified husband for her now"..

We face the same inherent biases everywhere we go, even amongst the really polite gentlemen on campus who observe innocently that "you seem more suited for soft stuff like HR.." People who know me would be amazed if i were called anything close to "soft"!! :)

I think it stems from the society we're in and the opportunities we're offered. Those changes will take a while to happen. Long journeys lie ahead. And reservations won't help..

Journeys

2005-08-22T02:25:00.000+05:30

I want to take a picture today. And try to remember how perfect this one moment is. Two am. With Ilaiyaraja playing in the background. I’ve got hot water for a sore throat, chocolate, purple post its and a few hours of work left.

And a weeks worth of washing hanging in my room lending it the unique smell of surf excel. (Now you know it’s a good day, when rhyming goes my way).

Life is a learning process. Here you learn to test the limits of what you can do. Balancing your life is rather more difficult that balancing a line. Figuring out priorities and keeping track of it all. Ensuring you don’t lose yourself in passing waves.

Each of us here is on a different journey. An intensely personal and different one..

Three books a month. I need to read to keep myself sane. Talk to mom and dad once a day. Need to keep in touch with what is happening back home. One foot back home in Mylapore and another here on campus…

Everyone around me needs to get a foreign job. Staying up until 4 30 am, 5 30 am... by the time the term ends I’m up until 6 30 in the morning studying. Networking.

Making friends who will last a lifetime. Sipping chai at LKP till 4 am listening to stories and trading secrets by candlelight.

Dorm pizza dinners. Impromptu gathering of people who hate the mess food, ordering pizzas and sitting and watching friends. Promising not to cry at the end of season 10.

Staying awake at 2 am. Sleepy, tired but typing furiously in front of a fluorescent monitor. Promising not to lose touch with one of the few connects left with a past world. Blogging, writing long emails. Chatting on msn. Talking talking talking to keep myself sane.

Three submissions and exams from Monday. Fighting against time, deadlines and sleep to put up a play. Sleeping between acts during rehearsals. Reading HR case mat on stage when I don’t have lines to say. Giving up on fear and sleep and doing things I’ve never done before. Watching people go through thirty cigarettes over three days, to keep one awake.. to keep one buzzing.. For the sound of an audience standing up to applaud.

Four am coffee breaks with an entire exhausted class that has worked all night to create something close to magic. Posters, props, a small car and a very large sunglass made from thermocol. An Uma Thurman fashioned out of 6 meters of yellow cloth and a large shiny plastic knife.

Finishing HP6 on the very first day it released. Watching three movies a week. Every episode of Joey so far. Scrubs, Wonder years. Listening to classical Sudha Raghunath at 4 am and missing my mom so badly. Fighting over the last piece of murruku in a box. Missing home and everything about it.

Pictures up on walls. Struggling against strange schedules to stay together. Ticking off weekends. Ten Nine Eight... I’ll be home in Three. Escalating cell phone bills, arguments over who promised to call and who didn’t, birthdays spent away... and I miss you.

Dorm jijus who visit once a term... and take us all out for ice cream. This year, we have a dorm niece too. Who’s two. On a journey to make my child’s life better.

To be able to afford things I couldn’t earlier. To break out of a system. To go beyond coding. To get away from something. If I weren’t in IIMA I’d be married by now… overheard in a guys dorm.

On a journey to build cv points. Insight, Conflu, Chaos, CCC and Messcomm. To distill myself down to one page of bullet points and hope it exceeds expectations.

On a journey to score! Hand up in every class, trying to catch the Profs eye. To add value to a class discussion. To make my point. To do well... or simply, to survive and stay awake... even more so in a class where there are no points for the same.

On individual, diverse journeys. To make friends, meet someone, get a job, get a life, get somewhere, leave somewhere, be someone, or simply to be..

Lights Camera Action..

2005-08-21T21:08:00.000+05:30

We put up "Kamala" over the past two days. I play one of the smaller parts in the play. One long dialogue and a few short ones. But rehearsing for the play and putting it up has been amazing fun. Our tuchchas (seniors) juggled three paper submissions and end terms which start tomorrow, while we made it through four continuous days of tests and rehearsals and v little sleep.. All in all, an amazing time.

I guess, to a certain extent i'm proud of doing something that is SO outside my comfort zone. I've never gone on stage before and yet this past one week, i've danced, acted and had a blast!

Voices..

2005-08-18T04:35:00.000+05:30

Jaisingh Jadhav : As journalists, it is our responsibility to bring these atrocities to light.. the abuses, the massacre.. We need to educate the suffering masses and awaken their consciousness.

Kakasaheb : And you plan to do all of this.. by writing.. in English? Sensational journalism? vandhya sambhog..!

Jain : Where will i go now saale, for the next big scoop?

Kamala : Yes master.. Of course master.. I've been bought.. bought by that gentleman.. Yes Master.. No master..

Sarita : In this day an age, a man keeps a slave in central Delhi.. Hear the story of the slave kamala, who was bought for less than the price of a buffalo. Hear the story of the other slave, who was given away for free.

If you're in Amdavad this weekend.. come hear our voices..

2005-08-16T07:36:00.000+05:30

a simple song evokes memories..

kanda naal mudhalai, kadhal perugudhadi

of rustling silk saris.
in the cool winter air..
..hangs the smell of jasmine, hot samosas and filter coffee.
fighting for parking space outside a crowded sabha.
chatting up old friends.
december season..
..in chennai

missing home

Sleaze!

2005-08-02T16:12:00.000+05:30

Slimes of India does it again. They've taken a childrens story book and converted it into cheap trash.

I read the article, and wondered what the point was. This is a kind of journalism where you first decide on an angle (archies/harry are BAD) and then look for facts. Failing to find them, you twist existing ones to suit your story. Ranjan Yumnam, are you happy that your name is in print? Will you frame this story in your study? Show it to your dad's friends? As an example of investigative journalism?

If i take any passage from the bible, or from a seventh standard maths textbook, i can twist it into sleaze. The point is, was there hidden innuendo? In this case, it is extremely clear that it wasn't. Even out of context, the words sound like subtitles to v. bad vernacular porn. So what then, is the author trying to say? I'm still wondering.

In the sixth standard, boys in our class were on the threshold of puberty. They'd crack silly jokes where the punch line would be a private part. It got so, that we couldn't solve physics problems on momentum without the class going into hysterics. (Think, two balls colliding at speed x).

I'll say now what my physics teacher said then : "Boys, Grow up!"

20 000 eyes under a blog

2005-07-24T03:36:00.000+05:30

I apologize for the v v corny title of the post.. i've had 20k page views. When i started blogging last year, i didnt think i'd stick to it for this long. Over the years, my mom has paid for guitar lessons that lasted a month, bought a "shruthi" box that gathers dust in my loft and patiently cleaned up after my innumerable attempts at crafts (candle making, quilting, cooking, sewing). Low attention span and laziness mean that i usually get bored pretty quickly. And yet i've continued blogging through bad movies and boring months.. often writing without having much to say.

For the benefit of being Mr Kite..
oops.. for those who are thinking of starting a blog : (drum roll please)

Benefits of Blogging
* You get to keep in touch with old friends who're too busy to mail you, but atleast read about what you're upto on the blog

* You get to make new friends (and i've made quite a few)

* You get to voice your own opinion. Even if you think main hoo naa was nice and Zaheer Khan is cute and remixed hindi music is rockin!!

* You get to say "i write" even if you dont manage to get anything printed :)

* People who want to check up on your functional writing skills have a readymade portfolio.

* You get to check your page hits counter three times a day and feel good when it hits any number ending with a zero.

* You usually discover that you are not alone. For some, this is scary.. since we are comforted by our uniqueness. But often, its nice to know that at 4 am there are other souls who can't finish a vikram seth book and enjoy cheesy mainstream hindi movies and are as confused about life as you are.

* No editors

* No deadlines

In other news, Week 4 and another WAC submission are over. Sleep is as elusive. Tiny threads of long forgotten thoughts string together now. Randomly. What was the name of that guy who every girl had a crush on in the 8th standard? The one who wore the coolest adidas sneakers and ran track?

When did i realise i'm addicted to cold water? And when did i fall in love with deep loud rock music that can make any day seem survivable? what would i do without metallica and matchbox 20? Or tang? Why, at 4 am, is remixed punju music STILL blaring outside my door?

When did i figure out that my biggest competition is with myself? The race i'm running is not against anyone other than my expectations. My parents i know, are never disappointed with me. And i couldn't care less what anyone else thinks.. so it boils down to this... what i expect of myself and what i rationalize away to make myself feel better... what i'll put up with... and at the end of the day, the only person i have to answer to is myself.

You'd think this would be a lot easier than explaining your teachers' note on "chalk throwing incidents" to your mom. It isn't.

The problem with dealing with yourself is that you somehow manage to see through all your excuses. :)

This doesn't really go anywhere, this post. It just exists. A random thought. Like me. Work in progress.

There are those who live in the boundaries of guilt and fear, in the limits of imagination. One must dance in the moment. Reach down and pull up a song. Spin and chant and forget the sorrow that we are flesh on bone

- Book of Osiris, Egyptian Book of Dead (From Suhas's signature on dBab)

Harry Potter and the half baked plot

2005-07-19T16:31:00.000+05:30

Finished the sixth harry potter book today
or what you might call a book
i thought it was an eight hundred page prequel to book 7

She pulls in all threads from the past 5 books.. sets a hurtling pace.. and then bang.. she .. uhm.. stops...

so there you go.. big things will happen in book 7. this one is just a teaser.

And its got romance, death, revenge, truth, mystique, and a quidditch match

[spoilers follow]

but her heart doesnt seem to have been in it. Romance is cursory - they yell for about eight pages on the pros and cons of snogging and devote two lines to pulsing hearts and thats that. Death is another two words. Perhaps she was too excited by book 7 to devote enough attention to the building up of suspense.. For a major part, the book reads like a log or recording of facts.

She's said elsewhere that this was the first book she wrote.. sure looks like it! the basic plot is there but without too much development. Everything from the dreaded inferii to rosmerta's curse to the felix felicis is dealt with cursorily. With the same tired words reciting these things. The plot has been formulated, but the book has not been written.

She's also tried to squeeze in too much. So unlike the previous books, there are twenty different mini climaxes, fights, matches, deaths, curses, romances put in. but in the end it still sounds more like a grocery list and less like a book.

Potter himself puts it best when he says in the end that he wasn't hurting as much as he did when Sirius died. Neither did we. I remember how heart wrenching it was when Sirius died. I threw aside Book 5 and refused to read it again so that i could go on pretending that Sirius lives.

This is not the same thing..

[spoilers done]

All in all, read if you're a potter addict. If you've just woken up to the phenomenon, then give this a miss (and do tell us which planet you're from btw...)

Week # 3

2005-07-17T00:02:00.000+05:30

The days are upside down here.

You sleep in the afternoon and stay awake all night.

I've spent this week watching FRIENDS and batchmates campaigning (Talking about elections more than specifically campaigning - sac c please note) on dbab.. for elections that happen next week.

considering that about 20 ppl in my class are vying for the post of CR (class representative), people like me are in great demand to sign nominations for them :)

I'm acting in a play put up by the drama club here (called, very imaginatively, IIMACTS). We're doing vijay tendulkar's play "Kamala".

Week 3 was good. We had an amazing ops class and three quizzes! I've finally gotten my ibm r52.. which looks tres sexy ;)

elsewhere, mindless terrorism continues. London recovers from the shock without the paranoid anti muslim backlash that characterized previous attacks elsewhere.

My sister just finished HP6 and doesnt want to talk about it. In writing a darker more adult book, perhaps JKR has diluted the original franchise and spoilt a fun story?

Will review it after i read it.. which won't be for a while.. and no, i'm not going to tell you who dies.. though from what i hear, its hardly the point..