Of long absences and some soul-searching...

So, here it is...my first post in about a year and a half. Yes, that is a long gap indeed...and if I were to sit down and analyse what all has happened in these intervening days to make me stay away from writing - well, the answer would be, a lot, and also, not much at all!

 

For the big picture largely remains unchanged - I am still (largely) the same person (give or take a couple of pounds :P); I still work in the same law firm; I still  hang out with mostly the same set of friends; I still ask a thousand questions a minute; I still smile from the heart; I still get angry and then calm down in a jiffy, and I am still looking for something (or someone) to make my world go around :) 

 

Yet, the details have certainly changed - there are some strands of grey in what once used to be a thick mop of black hair - strands that, one hopes, symbolise wisdom; there are wrinkles marking experiences, heartbreaks, eureka moments et al. that I have lived through; and most importantly, there is the slow but relentless changing of the world around me, which colours my perception of things and people on a basic, day-to-day level. Foremost among them has been the failing health of the old folks, which has brought on the very unsettling realisation that somewhere along the way, quietly, and without me realising it, the tables have turned - they have gone from being my pillars of strength to the ones who need the support, while I, the baby of the family, now suddenly find myself to  be the pillar they lean on. 

 

In the midst of it all, is a question that has increasingly been clamouring for an answer, and which I have, rather determinedly, pushed to the farthest recesses of my mind, but can't, any longer....the question being, is that all that was supposed to be? What am I working towards? What is the point of all this travelling on the highway called life, if there is no destination to reach? Or is it the journey itself that matters?

 

When I read what I just wrote, it all seems very fanciful, all big words and self-important mumbo-jumbo. But this is something that has been mercilessly bothering me for at least the past year....where am I headed? What is the purpose of my life? What makes me happy? And most importantly, what makes me tick?

 

Someone whose wisdom I've come to value in the short time that I've known him, summed it up rather well when he said that all of us go through this at varying points in our lives, when somewhere the numbers don't stack up any more, and we're left with this feeling of emptiness... It is at this stage, he said, that we either make peace with life as we currently know it, or strive to break free and discover ourselves as people we never knew....

 

Maybe, it's time for me to discover the person I never knew myself to be...

But maybe I'll delve into that question after I have discovered what Deepika Padukone is like in her latest outing as a girl from Tamil Nadu, and what SRK is like when he plays his age...yes, I have a date with the Chennai Express in about an hour...do I see you there?

Being dignified in what we wear

So there I was, today morning, sitting on my bed with my morning cuppa and the day's newspaper, with all the time in the world to spare, given as I am nursing an injured foot, and can't walk much...ergo, no office for me today.

Working backwards from the cartoons page, as I am wont to do (yes, yes...I do that. Don't judge me now!), I finally reached the first page of the 'paper, only to have my blood boiling, for there on the front page was an article about the opinions of the women and child welfare minister of a certain state, who, the article stated "was not in favour of women wearing provocative clothing", i.e., donning "flimsy and fashionable" dresses. The article further quotes the minister saying that while he is not in favour of a dress code for women because of varied cultural and caste considerations (How kind, nyet? Wonder whether he would have insisted on one otherwise!) he did think women had to decide what kind of clothes make them feel safe. The irony being, that these remarks were prefaced by a statement to the effect that today's lifestyle makes it mandatory for women to work with men and live on equal terms with them.

This stand taken by a minister, which comes close on the heels of similar statements made by the director general of police of a neighbouring state, and the events of the past year, including the Slutwalk and the fracas over a similar slutwalk being organised in India, serve only to highlight the depressing truth that many people in positions of power, or even otherwise, appear to believe that the blame for rape or any act of sexual harassment can be placed squarely (and fairly) on the woman because of what she wore (or didn't wear, for that matter!)... the necessary conclusion being that the responsibility of preventing a crime and ensuring safety for women rests entirely on the women themselves, thereby clearly, and cleverly, passing the baton of responsibility about a duty that is otherwise to be shouldered by the law makers and the enforcement machinery.

So where does that leave us, the women in question? Clearly without the support of any policy maker or enforcement agency, for starters... so does the only hope, as the minister puts it succinctly and not so helpfully, lie in being "dignified" in what we wear? Who decides whether something is dignified...the minster in question apparently classified a salwar kameez as being dignified...but how does that tie in with reports of women being raped every few minutes in rural and semi-urban India, where surely, "western clothing" could not be a possible culprit?

What will it take, I wonder, for people to realise, that plummeting morals of the perpetrators of crime against women have less to do with plunging necklines and more with opportunity for commiting a crime? What will it take for the law makers and enforcers to realise that this opportunity is presented not by the presence of a skimpily-clad woman but the absence of a strong law enforcement mechanism that will bring offenders to the book?

In today's day and age, with all this talk about greater and equal opportunities for all, how is it that these equal opportunities cease to become available when it comes to seeking protection from law breakers? For a woman in this country is foremost a citizen, and a perprator of a sexual offence, foremost, a law breaker.. or is it that the rules are different based on our prejudices?

Ain't no Susanna

So the parents are looking for a groom for moi... having given me ample opportunity to find someone on my own, and having seen me not really do much about it, the good parents decided to take matters into their own hands, in order to be able to fulfill their last remaining 'responsibility' as parents...

And thus began the hunt...preceded of course by what my parents thought were discreet enquiries about my 'preferences' regarding the prospective husband...'you want someone tall?', 'obviously, he'll be Bengali', 'the horoscopes will need to be matched...let's speak to [...] (our family astrologer)', 'Of course, we'll try and ensure that you don't have to move, but, you know, just in case, do you have any preferences in terms of any other cities that you would be willing to move to?' etc. etc.

In due course, I found myself alongwith the parents and another elderly couple at the gates of one of the older clubs of Calcutta, waiting for a family, whose son and scion I was supposed to meet. Said family made its appearance some five minutes later and we all made our way in to the seating area overlooking a lake, which bore a curiously deserted look, which was explained by the sole forlorn-looking waiter as being a result of the fact that the club caterers were not coming in that day, it being a national holiday. The waiter however, did manage to rustle up some sandwiches to go with tea (we were, after all, ostensibly there for tea), and my parents, parents of the Said Boy ("SB" for ease of reference) and the other elderly couple, through whom the parents had come to be introduced to SB's parents, settled down on the chairs made available to us.

The predictable followed..polite, slightly awkward interaction between the two sets of parents, between the parent and the prospective daughter/ son-in-law and between SB and me. Satisfied with their interrogation, and the limited interation between SB and me, the parents, in their infinite wisdom, decided to finalise matters and seal the deal, so to speak...the wedding date was duly finalised and therafter followed a slightly formal, but parent approved, courtship period...

For good or for bad, SB and I discovered over the course of the next few months that we were really different people with nothing in common, and hence decided to close things out before they got any further....of course, this decision was accompanied by the usual unpleasantness, name-calling, blame game, et al...but to cut a long story short, the parents' first attempt at finding a husband for me came to a slightly abrupt and premature end...

Not to be dettered, the parents promptly got to work and within a couple of months, had lined up Another Prospective Groom ("APG"). Things got off to a fairly good start with APG - we were of nearly the same age..we spent hours chatting, going for plays, attending concerts...the works. Somewhere along the way, the parents visited me, met APG's parents, who seemed to be really sweet, chilled out people and, of course...broached the topic of marriage. APG's parents seemed fairly enthusiastic, promised to visit and actually did visit the old folks at our house back home, and things began moving towards a discussion about possible wedding dates.

In the midst of all this, however, APG and more disturbingly, his mother ("MIL", henceforth - no, not ma-in-law...Monster In the Lurk, gettit?) increasingly began talking in not so happy tones about my work, the work hours...suddenly there was a long list of what I had done wrong, how I didn't care, how I ALWAYS prioritised work over APG, and beat this...over MIL. MIL especially was very upset with me about how on exactly two occassions, I had shown up late by about half an hour, causing her poor puppy to have to wait at the bustling train station...oh the horror!!!

One fine day, MIL decided enough was enough and decided to sit me down for a chat...about how I was not the one for her precious lil diamond, and how she wasn't very happy about the match..of course, I was too dumbstruck at that time to even point out that the "match" was something that had been approved by the parents, who actually introduced APG and me. In a long winding lecture where she touched upon issues best not mentioned in polite company, she eventually declared that she would need to think about whether she could include me in her family or not. Needless to say, the precious lil diamond for whom this battle was waged was nowhere to be found, having chosen to hide under MIL's pallu (figuratively only, I hope...). And of course, I am yet to hear from her.

Am I heartbroken? Hell, no...but I'd be lying if I were to say that I have remained completely unaffected by two such emotional upheavals in the course of one year...the blame game, the whole feeling of having to sell myself short, the unpleasantness, the longing to have someone who actually thought about me as opposed to only themselves...they did take a toll. It would not be an exaggeration for me now to say that I don't have the strength or the courage to get into another relationship..."love", "arranged" or anything in between.

How did you manage, Susanna?*

*reference to the protagonist of "Susanna's Seven Husbands" by Ruskin Bond, recently popularised by the Bollywood movie, "7 Khoon Maaf"

Confused

..that's the story of my life right now...nothing profound to write...just a whole bunch of observations, assessments, questions, conclusions, the works...

somewhere in the middle of all this, am I...with some clarity, a whole lot of confusion and a pounding headache...

Going through a difficult phase now. Please be kind, dear reader (if there are any left, after the shameless manner in which I had deserted the blog) and keep me in your thoughts and prayers...will be mighty grateful!

Hopefully, this too shall pass, leaving behind blessed clarity! * fingers crossed*

Till then, toodles! Hoping y'all are doing better than I am...if not, you'll be in my prayers.

Warming the cockles of my heart…Punjab Sweet House, Bandra

It was one of those random Saturday evenings… I was at a loose end when some work at office, which I expected to take really long, got done at a decent enough hour for me to make plans for a dinner other than the TV dinner I was expecting, but was still late enough for me to have no company for said dinner, as my friends had all made their plans for the evening already.

Having resigned myself to the fate of a TV dinner, but not really looking forward to it, I got into a cab and asked the cab driver to take me to Bandra. As people who have known me for a while would know, Bandra is to me what manna is to a parched throat. Maybe that sounds like an exaggeration, but it is true that I find myself drawn towards the queen of the suburbs and its various sea facing promenades whenever I am happy, sad, angry, troubled, lonely, in need of a pick-me-up, or as was the case that day, at a loose end. The calm that I feel when sitting by the sea has few equals, except maybe eating food cooked by the mother…both experiences take me to a nice and happy place where all is well with the world.

But as usual, I digress…so there I was, sitting in a cab, waiting for inspiration to strike, when suddenly, it did. And yes, my idea was, once again, inspired by my favourite food blogger’s recent sojourn…I decided to go to Punjab Sweet House. I’d sampled a little of their legendary chaats once, when a friend, hungry from a long wait for me, had dashed in for some papdi chaat, and I’d made it there just in time to eat the last morsel.

The Punjab Sweet House at Pali Naka in Bandra, right opposite the lane leading to Toto’s was originally a sweet shop, which also catered to the chaat loving taste buds of the many Punjabi families in nearby Pali Hill. They have been known to made some of the most amazing dahi bhalle in town, and the experience of their papdi chaat, based on the one morsel I had sampled, is certainly one of the most divine this side of the Vindhyas.

Recently, the owners have, happily for us who have been brought up in north India and love the taste of good chhole (which, for the record, bear no resemblance to the concoction served in restaurants here, which is flavoured with curry leaves), forayed into the restaurant business as well, and the floor above the original sweet shop has been converted into a small, but comfortable restaurant. The restaurant, at first glance, is a strictly no-frills family restaurant, though some attempts have been made to beautify the interiors with paintings of rural settings in Punjab, depicting women in the pind (village, in Punjabi) engaged in various tasks of day to day life. There is also a half-boundary-ish wall running between the two sections of the restaurant, separating the tables for larger groups from the two and four-seater tables, which has been decorated with some form of greenery.

Frankly, though I had heard only good things about the food served at Punjab Sweet Hose, I hadn’t heard much by way of ambience and there was certainly little to comfort me, if first impressions were anything to go by. And while there is certainly something to be said about being footloose and fancyfree in a city like Mumbai, based on past experience, sometimes the same can also work rather to one’s disadvantage. So I walked in, expecting nothing really, and prepared to call the waiter to pack my food and walk out in the worst situation. However, I was in for a surprise, and a rather pleasant one, at that…my sincere apologies to anyone who takes offence at the negative stance I had as I entered, but in my opinion, it’s better than being thoroughly let down.

So I walked in, and settled myself in one of the two seater tables. While the waiters looked a little taken aback, they regained their composure quickly enough and were the image of proficiency and helpfulness as I placed my order…I suppose they aren’t really used to too many single girls walking in and eating in the restaurant. The restaurant wasn’t really full, much to my surprise, it being a Saturday evening, but that may have been because most people possibly chose to order in, rather than venture out to eat in a simple, old fashioned restaurant, promosing great food and nothing much else.

Initial survey done, I was ready to place my order. I was ravenous, so I went ahead and ordered for a plate of kulche chhole and a glass of lassi. Food came really quick and the first bite of the kulcha (which was stuffed with alu) took me back to the same happy place I am transported to by Ma’s cooking and all was well with the world again. The piping hot food and the chilled lassi wove its magic to lift my spirits and took away all the drudgery of the past week. It was a simple, heart warming meal, one I could almost imagine had been cooked by a loving mother and which had the same effect too. Though I was struggling to finish the second kulcha, I didn’t have the heart to waste it, and ended up stuffing myself way beoynd what I had planned.

That unfortunately, left no space for dessert, but I did end up packing some moong dal halwa to take home anyway and relishing it the next day, reliving my experience of that unexpected Saturday evening dinner in the company of me.

All in all, an unexpectedly lovely and heartwarming experience for the footloose and fancyfree diaries after all, I say!

Of farewells and new beginnings... Yellow Tree Cafe

So the Girl Gang met up on Sunday, with respective husbands and boyfriends in tow, to bid adieu to Dipanwita and Avijit, who are moving back to Kolkata. On D's request to try out a new place, we settled on Yellow Tree Cafe in Bandra, a deceptively tiny- looking restaurant en route to Pali Hill.

Well, to be honest, I had anyways fallen in love with the place after listening to glowing reviews from a host of friends. And then when my favourite food blogger wrote about the restaurant in a positively loving tone, and then again, AND again, that sealed the deal for me. And that is how, at the first given opportunity, after having gently cajoled D into trying out Yellow Tree, a motley group of twelve came to occupy a large part of the first floor seating area of the restaurant.

What struck me as soon as I entered the place and then wound my way up the stairs to the first floor was the completely distinct ambience on the two floors. While the ground floor had a cosy, cafe-like feel to it, the first floor, with its whitewashed walls, turquoise blue lanterns placed randomly around the place and colourful seating arrangements seemed a lot more restaurant-y, if there exists such a word, albeit a really laid back one at that. The multi coloured sofas running along the walls with colourful throw cushions placed haphazardly around the place immediately perked up my mood, and set the tone for one of the best Sundays I've had in recent times, a Sunday marked by lots of animated chatter, a leisurely and really good luch spread over four hours, fond memories of college and an announcement from R about her impending wedding!

The icing on the cake was when Vittal, R's fiance joined us as well; though he was almost immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of our conversation; which of course was compounded by the fact that the poor guy understood almost none of it, given as most of it was in Bangla. The conversation flowed almost non stop, fuelled by the trays of antipasti that kept making appearances, within remarkably short periods after orders being placed. I must say, I was very impressed by the service and efficiency of the place. Another heart warming observation was that the waiters here seemed to actually know the whole menu and provided useful inputs wherever required.

Food, when it was finally ordered about three hours after we entered the place, also lived up to the hype generated by all my friends so far, though, as a friend pointed out, all the dishes looked almost the same - covered in brown sauce, with plum sauce decorations on most of them - the only exception being in the case of a pesto - sauce based preparation (Thankfully, I would say!) The taste of each of the dishes ordered, of course, was another story altogether - suffice it to say that the till-then boisterously noisy table fell absolutely silent as all of us dug into our food with great gusto. And then when we did surface for air after non-stop glottony, it was largely because the portions were really large, and it required a fair amount of effort to be able to finish each portion. Unfortunately, we were all so stuffed by the end of the meal that all of us, rather unwillingly, had to pass dessert by. So, a return to the restaurant is guaranteed, if only to sample the desserts I have heard so much about.

When we finally staggered out of the restaurant, it was early evening, something we realised with some amount of shock once we looked at our respective watches - time sure had flown, and the best part was that the waiters at the restaurant had not mentioned this to us even once. This was such a welcome contrast from horror stories of places which shoo one out (politely of course) the moment one's time in a restaurant extends beyond an hour or an hour and a half at best. Brownie points to Yellow Tree Cafe on that one for sure!

All in all, this lunch and Yellow Tree Cafe will surely form part of fond memories for a while to come. Though the occassion for which we all met up in the first place did temper the mood of the afternoon a little, R's announcement did make up for it a fair bit.

I wish D and A did not have to go back - they'll be sorely missed. But as they say, it's a small world...and one never knows what tomorrow brings. In the meanwhile, here's wishing them love and luck!

Update on attempts at cooking and allied matters

In my last post, in a bid to eat healthy, I had resolved to cook for myself on a regular basis and avoid ordering in or eating out. Sadly, I must admit that I haven't been very succesful in my attempt, with the grand schedule going for a toss within two weeks. Ah yes, I did survive two weeks, so pat on my back anyways. :)

Not that I did not cook at all in the past month...in fact, in the past one month, I have whipped up some fairly fancy food that brought back lovely childhood memories - chicken mince cutlet just the way Ma makes it, the traditional Bengali pulao to go with doi machch (fish cooked in a curd based gravy) and chholar dal on one occassion, which was a farewell lunch for a friend; phulkopir dalna (traditional Bengali curry made with cauliflowers and green peas) and porota on another. I even tried making mishti doi on one occassion. It didn't turn out exactly the way I expected it to be, but it wasn't all that bad either, so maybe there's hope yet.

Mighty excited about my succesful attempts at cooking the traditional stuff, in addition to my regular of roti, sabzi, pastas and salads, I was recounting all my successful experiments of the culinary variety one of these days in a conversation with the Mother.

The Mother too, was suitably thrilled and made all the right noises of encouragement at the right times. And then she said, "Tui to puropuri expert hoye gechish - fancy khabar ranna korte parish, eka eka eto bochor dhore okhane achish, shob shamlachchish...shudhu ekta bor jutlei to hoy!" (You've become such an expert - you've learnt how to cook fancy stuff, you've been staying alone there for so many years, taking care of everything...now all you need is a husband!)

Err?

To cook or not to cook...

I have, over time, noticed the general look of awe mixed with pity on the faces of most people when I tell them that I stay alone. "So what about food?" is the first question that generally follows thereafter, to which my reply is, "Why, I cook myself".

The shade of reverence that is unmistakable in the faces of most post this statement has me wondering, is it really such a big deal?

Now I don't claim to be a woman whose kitchen is a treasure trove of exotic ingredients nor would I write home about my ability to whip up fancy meals in a jiffy when unexpected guests come calling. But I sure would like to believe that I can survive in a city (gastronomically speaking) without the friendly guy at the takeaway counter of the neighbourhood Dominoes'/ udupi/ *insert name of restaurant on speed dial* being able to rattle off my order to the cook without me having to open my mouth.

And having grown up in a household where Ma made the most complex of dishes look deceptively easy to make, I genuinely believe that it is not that difficult to rustle up a simple meal when one is starving but not in the mood for heavy takeaways.

Honestly, I thought one of these days, how difficult can it be to make oneself some dal chawal or a bowl of sphagetti? And that is how, I decided, one fine day, to try cooking for myself on a regular basis for a month at a stretch, the idea being to avoid eating out/ ordering in for both lunch AND dinner for a month to see whether it is a feasible option, or whether I should just throw up my hands and give up my cherished secret dream of being the domestic-diva-meets-awe-inspiring-professional.

There, I said it...I dream of being the mythical superwoman. I love the thought of being able to efficiently and elegantly, without breaking into a sweat, handle the home, the hearth, the workplace, the man, the friends...you get the drift. Yeah...I am quite the maggu like that. Talk about competitive spirit being used in the wrong places...

Anyhow, to get back to the topic at hand...the topic, or rather the caption of this post, is what runs through my mind every time I am faced with the prospect of cooking, and though I am fairly decent as a cook (even if I say so myself), the shamefaced admission must be made...the latter option wins fairly often especially the question is posed at the end of a long day.

So, there - that is my challenge for the coming month - to avoid eating restaurant food to the maximum extent possible. That necessarily entails planing for meals in advance, carrying a dabba to work for both lunch and dinner, not being tempted to order food when everyone around me is ordering, shopping for the week over the weekend, cooking substantial amounts over the weekend, and hopefully, ensuring more than the passing lip service to principles of 'healthful eating'....

Does that sound daunting? You bet! But let's just try this out anyhow and see how long I last.

Wish me luck!  

Beta, aaj maine gajar ka halwa banaya hai....

I'm sure all of us remember this dialogue from some or the other Amitabh Bachchan movie aired on Doordarshan on some Sunday afternoon, back in our childhood. This dialogue, along with another along similar lines, i.e., "Beta, aaj maine aloo ke parathe banaye hain" epitomised the selfless love and devotion of the long suffering mother of Indian cinema in the 1980s and earlier (played either by Nirupa Roy or Reema Lagoo) towards her son, the angry young man fighting evil society and its even more evil scum, the leering ganglord/ rich arrogant industrialist/ corrupt policeman (insert as applicable).

But this post is not about Hindi cinema of yore, or even about the angry young man or his wronged mother who brought him up single handedly and groomed him to avenge the wrong inflicted upon her. This post is about the other, often overlooked star, the gajar ka halwa. 

For no matter how cliched this sounds, there can be no denying that gajar ka halwa at home meant indulgence of the motherly kind, and any announcement of the intention of the Mother to make gajar ka halwa was promptly followed by yours truly falling all over self in excitement and promptly offering to help her (which help, the Mother mostly refused with a benign smile and strict instructions to go study, or sometimes indulged by allowing me to grate carrots using the handheld grater). In fact, gentle reader, such was my love for this delicate Indian dessert, that I had to physically restrain myself from rubbing my hands in glee and ensure that the silly grin which automatically found its place on my face was firmly kept in control, often by indulging in other activities such as talking thirty eight to the dozen, if it were possible, which often had the Mother ready to drop whatever she was doing and bolt out of the house until I had calmed down somewhat...

With the passage of time, I moved out of home to go to college and thenceforth, to Mumbai, but whenever I met the parents during the winter months at the college hostel when they came to visit, or back home, or at our house in Kolkata when the parents were in town, the Mother always ensured that there was a bowlful of gajar ka halwa for me.

This year, during the Holi weekend, I was sitting at home after having cancelled out last minute on some friends who were going out of town because of the possibility of me being required in office during the wekeend, and having a merry pity party, missing home and familiar surroundings (compounded by the festive atmosphere and the near complete absence of friends in town, who had all headed off to various places in the wake of the rare three day weekend), when suddenly I decided that I wanted to do something which would, at least in part, recreate the feeling of home. Ergo, I decided to make gajar ka halwa.

A quick call to the Mother followed, resulting in what seemed like a laughably easy recipe for gajar-ka-halwa-in-a-jiffy. A quick trip to the grocers and an hour of peeling, grating and following vague instructions and instinct later, I found myself staring at a kadahi full of some yummy looking gajar ka halwa (even if I say so myself). 

Now, it was time for the acid test...the tasting of said yummy looking gajar ka halwa. Having grown up surrounded by mouthwatering food, what with the Mother being a cook par excellence, it was with trepidation that I took a spoonful of the halwa to taste, and then felt the corners of my lips twitch into a silly grin, reminiscent of the silly grins ages ago when I finally got to taste the halwa made by Ma. The halwa tasted perfect, just like the ones I had had right through childhood. The Mother was duly informed of said accomplishment accompanied by appropriate delighted squealing, and the smile on my friend T's face when she tasted some of the bowlful that I had taken along when I went to meet her for Holi in the evening confirmed my initial delight.

And that is how, I managed to recreate some more of home in my adopted city, in the process of making this city home as well. Of course, the fact that I played Holi with my neighbours for the first time, and participated in the Holi puja along with the other members of the society also deepened the feeling of settling down and being accepted by the city at last, and need I say it, it sure feels good to come home to a home away from home :)

Of never ending work and unreasonable clients...

Disclaimer: Crib post ahead. You have been warned.

Ok, so we'll keep this one short and sweet...or maybe not (the sweet bit, that is)...after all, it IS a crib post. So, to get to the point...am sure all of us have gone through times when there is frenetic activity at work and life just seems like a blur, where days merge into each other...well, I am going through such a phase now. Not for the first time, obviously, but what makes it especially disconcerting is the fact that I am travelling so much after a prolonged gap. 

Now I am a girl who likes her seven hours of beauty sleep. So you can imagine how distressing the past fortnight has been for me, when I tell you that every alternate day in the past fortnight (and I kid you not on this one) has been marked by early morning flights, along with its attendant evils, namely waking up at unearthly hours and the brain downing shutters in the early parts of the evening because of lack of said quota of beauty sleep.

That the client in the matter (legalspeak for assignment) for which I have been travelling so extensively is Cruella De Ville personified does not help matters for my poor addled brains either. For it really is not a pleasant situation when one manages to drag self to office on a Monday morning, bravely defying Monday morning blues, only to be ambushed by a call from said client, precisely fifteen minutes after switching on the system, which client thereafter systematically proceeds to numb my eardrums by way of a ten minute soliloquy in a voice that resembles the sound of a chainsaw more than a human being at the pitch that would put a drill sergeant to shame.

Several weak attempts at reason later, I finally manage to get in a word sideways when said lady pauses for breath and hurriedly apologise for not meeting her expectations (given how she has been going on and on about the Firm not meeting her expectations etc.)...never mind that our team was totally not at fault on this one and the reason for said ten minute soliloquy was a missed sentence in a 200 page document, which statement was, in my humble opinion, not a big deal really....ah well...

So anyhoo, after having pacified said lady and sweettalked her into talking in a voice that at least began to faintly resemble that of a homo sapien, I was only beginning to thank the God Almighty for such small mercies when she erupted again...this time very graciously (and entirely without being asked to, please note) to tell me how I should arrange my day to ensure that her work got done and how I should forget about my obligations to all my other clients just so I could focus on her work. Once I had managed to recover from the shock at the nerve of the lady, I quickly put the phone down at the first opportunity in order to avoid a tongue lashing, which in my opinion, was certainly in order for said lady. 

Ironically, I happened to glance at that precise moment at a pamphlet that the company in question uses, and which had been lying around on my desk, which says in bold letters, "CUSTOMER IS KING". It was at this moment that I took this to be a signal from the good Lord and chose to swallow all the righteous indignation I had been bursting with precisely three seconds ago...for as far as said lady was concerned, she certainly practiced what her company preached and in her mind there was obviously no doubt that the customer, which in this case was her, was certainly king (or is it queen?)

And that is how, gentle reader, it came to pass, that I am now working to meet the lady's whims and hoping we can meet her expectations this time around (pun totally intended)...it's time to sign off now, and sign in for a call with Cruella for a status update. Ah...life!

On the positive side, maybe this experience will teach me to appreaciate the semblance of music in the sound of a running chainsaw... :)

Toodles!         

MIA

Hello hello....so I've been missing in action, and there's been radio silence...an explanation is in order, and about time too, along with a quick update...

The past fortnight has been rather hectic, what with work, travel and lots of socialising :) This hectic fortnight saw me travel on alternate days for work, turn a year older, be a part of some showdowns and some reconciliations and meet some wonderful new people. And of course, meet Usha Uthup! :) 

But to begin at the beginning, as they say...some work, which had seen me spend a month at Kolkata last year, has revived and required me and a colleague to be present in Kolkata again. The work panned out in a manner that I was required to go to Kolkata a day before the parents were supposed to come down to spend some time with me and celebrate my  birthday with me. Decided to take full advantage of the fact that the birthday is on a national holiday, and so it transpired that I was on a flight to Kolkata on the morning of my birthday, after having brought in my birthday with a quiet dinner with R, with whom I share my birthday, PB and her husband, AA. Talked to AA properly for the first time that day in the two years that PB and AA have been married, and generally had a really good time catching up with them. Also learnt a valuable lesson along the way, that often a lot of our preconceived notions of how well (or otherwise) we'll get along with some people are just that....preconceived, and often, misplaced notions :)

But to get back to the day of my birthday, there I was groggy eyed, waiting for my flight to be announced, in line for a cup of coffee, when I heard this really familiar voice...looked up to see that said voice belonged to none other than THE Usha Uthup...yup, that's right...in person, standing right in front of me!!!

Suddenly, I found myself walking up to her and gushing about how I realised it was not an appropriate time to bother someone, given as it was early morning etc., but how I just had to come tell her that I was a huge fan...made myself stop with great difficulty and dashed off before I could prattle anymore, and promptly texted and told the whole world (ok, some five people) about how I had just met and talked to THE Usha Uthup...but then, given how huge a fan I am of the lady's inimitable style, the slight streak of exhibitionism may be forgiven, nyet?

Anyhow, after that excellent start to my 26th year on this planet, landed in the City of Joy to an effusive welcome by the parents, endless messages from friends (which I found really touching) and a whole lot of activity that had been planned by the parents. Also met some lovely people in the course of the evening, and spent a charming couple of hours chatting with them about a world that is as different from mine as chalk is different from cheese...and the evening was marked by a whole lot of cake cutting activity with the extended family...all in all, a good day indeed :)

The week that followed was fairly humdrum, marked only by work, work and then some more...got a break on Sunday, thankfully, which was spent in meeting family and friends and then it was back to work again from Monday through Friday. Dashed back to amchi Mumbai on Saturday morning, in order to prepare the house for the parents, who landed in town on Saturday evening. Though the visit is a fortnight behind schedule, it sure is good to have them here, and amazing to be able to spend time with them for a prolonged stretch...if the beginning of the year is any indication, it sure does look like this is going to be a good year :)

Did miss a lot of stuff while I was away in Kolkata..missed being in office on the day it was SM's last day in office (SM is a dear friend and ex-colleague, who I almost wasn't going to talk to ever...but that's another story for another day) on the day it was NB's 25th birthday (who is another colleague who has transitioned to being a dear friend), and on the day of a colleague's wedding...and most importantly, missed some yummy Parsi food at said wedding...I did tell you I was a foodie, did I not? :)

Am finally back in town, and it sure feels good...And now, dear reader, hopefully, I shall be a lot more regular in posting about me, my life and the myriad issues that have my attention at the moment :)

Till then, toodles!

Kaipochhe!!!

Today is Makar Sankranti, and people in almost all parts of India are celebrating the transition of the Sun into Capricorn in its celestial journey. This day, which is supposed to mark the beginning of the harvest season in rural India is celebrated as Lohri in Punjab (though a day earlier), Pongal in Tamil Nadu and Makar Sankranti in other parts of India, like Maharashtra, West Bengal and Gujarat.

Each part of the country has its own rituals associated with this festival. So while this morning, I came across several status messages on friends' FB homepages saying "Til gul ghya, god god bola", roughly translated from Marathi as "Eat tilgul (a traditional sweet made of sesame seeds and jaggery) and speak well (sweet/ good?) (of others)", some others were missing the festive atmosphere seen in their hometown as the entire city gears up for a day of kite flying and meeting friends and family.

The FB status of this other friend sparked off some wishful thinking of my own... how I wish I could be in Ahmedabad one of these Makar Sankrantis, if only to watch millions of kites take off and colour the sky a million shades of red, blue, green and which other colour have you...this image has been etched in my imagination after Gujarati culture and Makar Sankranti was made famous by Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, and more particularly, by the song Kaipoche! which went on to become a chart topper for a significant length of time. Others may of course remember the song because of the orange pants worn by Salman Khan in the song...

Psst....as an aside, whoever wears orange pants??? On a more prosaic note, wouldn't people get to know if you repeated the said item of clothing 'cause it would be etched in people's memories for the longest time, if only because of the shock value it generates? Or maybe it is only me who is alarmed by the phenomenon of people willingly choosing to wear orange pants...   

And of course, when I read the Kite Runner, the thrill of flying a kite and the excitement involved became a palpable, living, breathing experience...the beauty with which the particular scene depicting the kite flying competition was depicted, and the way in which the scene was made the prelude for the turning point for the events in the book make this one of my all time favourite reads...but to get back to my mid day wishful thinking, I've decided, someday, I will certainly make a trip to Ahmedabad on Makar Sankranti to soak in the atmosphere associated with the cry "Kaipoche!"

But having grown up in a house where Makar Sankranti signified loads of goodies lovingly prepared by the Mother in keeping with the tradition of rice harvesting Bengal, what I really miss about today are the amazing sweets (collectively called puli pithey in Bangla)...

As per tradition in Bengal, Makar Sankranti marked the first day of the winter harvest, and agrarians long ago would, on this day, make various steamed and fried sweets from the freshly harvested rice and offer it to the gods as thanksgiving for a good and bountiful harvest. Though the reason behind preparation of the mouthwatering delicacies has long passed into oblivion, food loving Bengal and Bengalis have still held on to the elaborate tradition of preparation of puli pithey...be it the steamed gokulpithe, or the dudh puli soaked in milk, or the yummy pati shapta, or the eternal favourite, the chushir payesh. And if you think that is too much of sweets for one to handle, there is the shoru chakli and the koraishutir kochuri/ chop, though, in my opinion, the last has little to do with the harvest offering and is an addition based on the food-loving Bangali's tastebud dictates. :)

Right through my childhood, Ma would start preparing these delicacies about two days in advance, and since these were supposed to be eaten only on Makar Sankranti and not prior, the two days to Makar Sankranti would be sheer torture, where one could only look at these sweets longingly and wait for the big day. Today, sitting in faraway Mumbai, how I wish I could get hold of at least some form of pithe...maybe I'll just ditch procastination and try my hand at it next year.

And for this year, maybe I'll cheat on my self imposed diet just for today and head to Sweet Bengal :)

When I get married...

... I will be able to get a haricut.

....I will be able to go on (and truly enjoy, it seems) a vacation.

....I will be able to get houses on rent more easily.

....I will cease to be asked when I plan to 'settle down'.

Before you start thinking that I have totally and irretrievably lost my marbles, dear reader, let me fill you in on the background to this post.

Scene 1 - a lazy Sunday afternoon right after getting a haircut

Moi (having called up the Mater excitedly after a brand new haircut) - Ma, ami chul katiyechi! Khub bhalo keteche, layers e (Ma, I got a haircut...they've styled it really well, in layers).

Mother (barely managing to supress an involuntary shriek) - Eeesh! Ar koyek din pore katatish... (Eeesh! You could have got the haircut after some days..)

Clueless moi - Keno? Koyekdin pore katale ki hoto? (Why? What would have happened if I got a haircut after some days?)

Extremely logical mother - Na, tor biye hoye jeto! (Nothing, you'd be married by then!)

Nugget of information as a minor aside  - The wedding date is nowhere in sight...heck, even Mr. Right is nowhere in sight!

Scene 2 - another random marathon adda session with the Mother (yes, I have a lot of these adda sessions, as you can see)

Don't remember the exact conversation, but the gist of it was something to the effect that vacations are truly fun and romantic only when one is with the significant other (the "SO"), and if I visited all the places I wanted to right now in my sorry single state, what would I do when the SO finally made an appearance in my life? Romantically eat peanuts while looking deep into SO's eyes in the local train in Mumbai???

Sigh! Never mind that I have been hit by wanderlust ever since I can remember and have even allocated a week out of my measly three week permitted leave in a year to travel to new and unknown destinations :) which of course, till date, have happened only in my mind.

Scene 3 - in an apartment in Malad in earnest conversation with the owner of said apartment with me fervently hoping to make the transition from one of the many inspecting the said apartment to the one finally taking it on rent

Owner of Apartment ("OA") - So who all will be staying in this house?
Moi - Principally me, but my parents will visit me from time to time...
OA (turning to broker) - I told you I want only family type people...all these single girls...I don't want to be going to jail...
Moi (startled enough at this point to break into the conversation) - Sorry, didn't get the connection...
OA - Yes, all these single girls, they come and do all sorts of things, and then the brokers and owners have to go to jail...you know of this recent case where yada yada yada...I am also travelling most of the time, what if something happens to you yada yada yada...so bottomline is that I am very clear...yada yada yada...I want only families in this house.

Scene 4 - any time I am with family and well wishers

Concerned neighbourhood aunty/ relative/ well wisher (fill in as appropriate) ("CP" for concerned person) - So, what you doing?
Moi - I'm a lawyer, associated with a law firm in Mumbai.
CP - So how long have you been in Mumbai?
Moi - About four years now...
CP - Wow! That's a long time...yada yada yada...so when are you planning on settling down?
Moi (at least initially) - Well, I am kind of settled in a way, y'know...nice job, love the city, things are looking good if you ask me (tentative smile follows)
CP - Oh c'mon! That's not what I meant, and you know that...when are you planning on tying the knot?

This is typically followed by absolutely direct questions as to whether I am dating someone, if no, why not, if because there's no time, then maybe I should consider a lifestyle change which would give me more time for myself...at which point of time my eyes glaze over while I desperately look for the first opportunity to turn and run!

Before you draw any conclusions about me being a vehement, frothing-at-the -mouth opposer of the institution of holy matrimony, let me hasten to assure you that I am quite the romantic, with embarrasingly outdated and idealised notions of love and marriage and I would love to be married one of these days, actually fairly soon, but what really has me annoyed is the persistent denial that most people seem to face regarding a single, unattached girl, and the completely overrated position of marriage in the larger scheme of things.

To be fair to the dear mother, I think her dismay at me having got a haircut stems from her concern about my hair needing to be styled into a bun for the wedding ceremony, and (in her mind) the complete likelihood of my knight in shining armour sweeping me off my feet the day right after the hair cut, in which case, said hair would be too short to be styled into a bun....well Ma, that's not happened so far, so I've gone and gotten a haircut yet again :)

But on a more serious note, though one would have to appreciate the concern of well wishers for a single girl in terms of how it is difficult to deal with everything singlehandedly, and I'll admit that one does sometimes wish for a helping hand and smiling face to come back home to, it does get a tad annoying when people tend to look at marriage as the be all and end all of a girl's life, making it seem as if her whole life is in limbo for that one moment when knight in shining armour puts sindoor in her maang, after which the said girl would lose all identity of her own and be referred to as X ki bahu and Y ki bhabhi and Chunnu ki mami and Munnu ki chachi.   

Is it really so difficult for people to accept the fact that in today's day and age, there is a sizable chunk of girls, at least in the major cities of the country, who having spent most of their waking time in the past five years or more doing things which are all designed to achieve a professional degree from a reasonably reputed college/ university, would want to spend some time on their own discovering themselves and figuring out who they are as people, as professionals and as individuals, before taking on the responsibility of another person and possibly another family? Is it really that unimaginable that a girl may want to stay alone for a while instead of making a transition from her parents' house to the hostel to the husband's/ in laws' house? 

And assuming, though I am totally not inclined to believe this, that girls with thoughts like those above (a.k.a like me) are really few and far between, is it too much to ask for if I want to treated as someone in my own right? Why is it considered necessary for a girl to get married before she's considered 'settled' in life? Do financial and professional security count for nothing? Will it always be necessary that the SO (as and when he does decide to show up) be used as a defining point rather than someone who complements me and my personality?

What do you think?

It's that time of the year again...

It just seems like yesterday that we ushered in 2009. Though it was a quiet celebration, because I was still recovering from a relapse of malaria, it was all that a celebration looks like in my mind...friends, family (well, almost, it was T's family and her house, and that sort of qualifies), good food, a long adda session...all in all, a great time.

And zap, it's time to usher in 2010 already!

As I get into the festive mood, the kind of looked forward to, but not really eagerly anticipated, year end contemplation begins to make its presence felt. It is something that has become a sort of tradition in the past three Christmases that I have spent in the city...where I look back at the year gone by and thank the people who have made the year memorable. This ritual has great significance for me, because it is my way of creating a family out of friends in this city where I have no relatives and no family to fall back upon. Some of these people are friends from college, some others who I met here, but all of them are today an integral part of my life.

Festivals, for me, have always been associated with traditions. This ritual is also my attempt at creating traditions and establishing a familiar pattern in this phase of life on my own.

And then, of course, there's New Year's eve...unlike most people I know, I do not have any plans in place yet to bring in the New Year. So what does someone, who's not interested in braving maddening traffic after work on the last day of the year to squeeze into a smokey place filled with people packed like commuters in rush hour traffic in a Churchgate bound local from Virar, do? Dunno yet, but we'll discover the answer in the course of tomorrow :) Of course, Nuts has invited a bunch of us over to her place tomorrow for a house party with the promise of making waffles on New Year's morning, before I leave for the airport to get to Cochin for a dear friend's wedding. Yeah, I know, is she sweet or what!      

And of course, somewhere in between, there is packing to be done for the trip, work to be finished and resolutions are to be made (and hopefully, stuck to, this time around!) On that note, time for me to sign off now...wish you and yours a very happy new year!

PS. On that note, have often wondered, is there anyone out there, who's reading all that is the outcome of me pouring my heart out on (virtual) paper? Anyone at all? If so, it'd be nice if you gave me a holler, if only to return my sincere wish! :)

Until I am ready to pour my heart out again in the new year....

Toodles!

Change in the offing

Yes, gentle reader...change is in the offing. And no, I am not talking about the imminent change of year and decade that is a mere 10 days away (though that too has had a role to play in the change that this post is about).

The change that I talk about is the change in the layout, design, title and theme of this blog. The ongoing process of change, I would like to believe, mirrors, to a certain extent, the change that's happening with moi. Why this sudden spouting of philosophy, you ask? Well hang in there, and you shall be told all in the more detailed post that follows on this topic. But the long and short of it is that I have often wondered what to write about, given that there is so much that I have wanted to say at any given point of time. So now, I have decided to streamline things a little and in this blog, focus on the life of the single, footloose and fancyfree in urban India.

Over the past four years or so, having met several young people staying away from home by choice and totally enjoying the experience, as well as the freedom, trials, tribulations and reality check(s) that come with it, I suppose it's time to reach out to others like us, and what better mode that this...so hang on tight, 'coz we're ready to take off!

Happy reading!

For my girlfriends

So there I was the other day, hard at work in office, when I got a call from a friend, Puru. After the customary, "Oh it's been so long, how've you been?", "Bhalo, tor khobor ki (I'm good, what news at your end?)", Puru told me the reason she called...she was leaving. She'd put in her papers at work and was set to leave the city in another two weeks. We promised to catch up that evening at Tea Centre, one of our favourite after-work hangouts, but Cyclone Phyan played spoilsport and we decided to postpone the catch-up session.

About ten days later, R, another member of the girl gang ("GG" for future reference) and a dear friend from day one of college, called to say that she and another friend, AD, had already decided to host Puru's farewell at my pad and had also informed other GG members accordingly...and since it had struck her only now that she'd omitted to tell me about it, she thought she should let me know. "Sweet!", I thought....but said "Sure...I'm game!"

So there we were, three days later, on a Saturday evening at my place, much confusion and delay later, all GG members, including A, who's recently moved base to Bengaluru and was in town by chance. I looked around at the circle of my girlfriends, all chattering at the same time and animatedly discussing varied topics ranging from Lux Perfect Bride to supernatural experiences to in-laws to other GG members in other cities...ALL at the same time, when we all realised that this scene, which was such a regular occurence during chilly winter nights in hostel that we took it for granted, had become a rarity in the hustle and bustle of life today. About the only time all of us managed to get together was to host a bachelorette party for someone who was getting married, or to bid farewell to someone who was switching jobs, and cities. We'd met a fair number of times for such occassions in the past couple of years...

When we'd come to Mumbai, excited young lawyers fresh out of college and still wet behind the ears, we'd been a huge group of about 15...today we stand at just about 5 people who are regularly in touch with each other. Yet despite these dwindling numbers these girls formed the backbone of my social support system in the city, my family in the absence of blood relatives. And despite the physical distance, each one of them is only a phone call away.

I realise that this post, which originally started out being my two bits on the place of friends in one's life, is turning totally sappy, and I am revealing myself to be a true blue mush pot, but what the hell, these amazing girls deserve all of it...here's to all my girlfriends...I love you all!

Of chicken soup and motivation

They've come out with another book in the "Chicken soup" series....Chicken Soup for the Indian teenager's soul...and the buzz is that there are several more in the pipeline already. In fact, if the buzz is to be believed, in the not too distant future, we will have chicken soup made to order for the Indian mother's soul, the diabetic's soul, and the Lord alone knows who else's soul.

Speaking of the books themselves, I have to admit I haven’t read too many of them…truth be told, I’ve managed to half-read only about half of one, Chicken Soup for the Indian soul. (No, that was not a mistake…I did say half-read half a book, ergo, I have, till date, managed to half-heartedly go through half of one book in the series). To be fair, the fact that I was only half-heartedly reading this book may be easily attributed to the fact that I was simultaenously reading The Great Indian Novel by Shashi Tharoor, which I found positively unputdownable (more on that in another post), while the Chicken Soup book continued to remain in my bag for reading in the train en route to work largely because I hate leaving books unfinished.

There can be no denying that the Chicken Soup series has its own fans, and I am sure several of them will rise to its defence if I were to say that my impression, based on my limited reading so far, is that the stories featured in the book are a little on the sappy side...well, I'll reserve my judgment till I actually finish reading the book (Yes, I am yet to finish it.)

But what struck me is not the book itself, but the genre to which it belongs...the genre of the motivational book. If one saunters into any bookstore worth its salt today, one is more likely than not to come across an entire section in the book store devoted to motivational books, or its first cousin, the self help book. Some stores, instead of restricting themselves to the narrow category of motivational books, prefer to club together a larger variety, resulting in an eclectic, and almost always interesting, mish mash of motivational books, self help books and books on self- improvement/ self- enlightenment/ self-awareness. And if the sale of books in this section is anything to go by, it would appear that there are a lot of people out there who need motivation, help and guidance in navigating their way through their experiences, careers, relationships and lives...

For starters, the surge in the sale of motivational books has me wondering whether we, as a generation, are facing a serious lack of motivation at large. To what else could one attribute the fact that to add to mid-life crisis, for instance, a significant chunk of the adult population is also facing what has been termed by experts as the “quarter-life crisis” – a situation where after having doggedly followed a dream or an ambition to make it big, land that plum job or secure admission in that foreign university for the longest time, once the said goal has been achieved, a vast section of today’s youth in urban India, find themselves floundering and hunting for inspiration to continue. The trend of succesful professionals who’ve quit their myriad succesful (and mostly corporate) jobs to take up something that makes them happy…ranging from painting, to travel and tourism to cooking to scuba diving, while a most heartening trend, also begs a question that could well be the corollary to the theme of this post, ergo, why would people want to take on or stick to jobs that do not motivate them? The answers to the question could be many, ranging from the paypacket (sad but true) to complacence, to more recently, the economic downturn, which makes it a wise decision to stick to a job one may not absolutely love, but which is comfortable and secure.

So how does one really describe this elusive yet all important emotion we call motivation? Does it mean (to put it in cliched terms) jumping out of bed every morning, ready to take on the world, face new challenges and emerge the winner in all circumstances? Does it mean (figuratively) bobbing up and down all over the place and trying to put one’s finger in as many pies as possible?

I would think all the above may be better employed to describe enthusiasm rather than motivation, and therefore the attitude typically exhibited by someone new to something. Ask me, been there done that. But what happens when the initial enthusiasm wears off? Also, given that not all of us may have been blessed in that we’ve discovered our true calling and are doing something that we honestly feel deeply about, how does one keep the motivation from lagging? Is motivation really something that can be conjured at will, or is it something that is inherently present in some and lacking in the others? Or again, is it that over time, our understanding of motivation has become straitjacketed, inasmuch that only certain qualities are taken as being indicative of motivation while everything else is not? Questions, questions and some more questions, none of which I have a ready answer to…

On a related note, another thing worth a thought would be the outcome of reliance solely on motivational books…for instance, A senses lack of motivation in himself (or herself) and while wondering what to do about it, saunters into a bookstore, comes across a book on motivating oneself, browses through it and decides that this book was written with him (or her) in mind and is therefor the panacea for all his (or her) problems. Having bought the book and after trying to implement the suggestions contained therein, A waits for the miracle to happen, when A will feel motivated and supercharged to take on anything that life throws his (or her) way…nothing happens, and A is further disillusioned, thinking that maybe his problem is beyond help, when really, no help has been sought at all. Is this therefore a vicious cycle?

I wonder whether it is ironical that in a country which frowns on a visit to the shrink for help, motivational and self help books enjoy robust sales, or whether it is because we as a nation frown on approaching an “outsider” for help, no matter how qualified the “outsider” may be, that we turn to other sources like motivational books, which may or may not address the issue at hand? For what else is a motivational book, if not self –medication, loosely translated. And in all probability, it comes with the attendant side effects of self medication as well…

The house is open for discussion…

Hunger

I am hungry right now...one of my colleagues would typically respond to that with a "So, when are you not?" Well...that's not true! (At least not entirely :-) ) True, am always game to try anything that I haven't tried before (well, mostly) and I generally do not refuse a genuine offer to share food...especially when it comes from one of my colleagues in this old style law firm with Bawa (colloquial for Parsis) associations where I work...though please note the use of the qualifier "genuine"...

As an aside, Parsis, much like my community of birth, the Bangalis, live their life surrounded by food...food, and discussions about food, form an integral part of the life of any self respecting Bawa, and this attitude tends to seep into you, even if you are not a Bawa, but are only surrounded by them at all times.The best examples in this regard would perhaps be the colleagues I mentioned earlier...as the story goes, no one in my office, at any point of time, says no to food. Any refusal to at least taste food offered by another at the lunch table is immediately followed by concerned queries of the nature of "Why? What happened? You not feeling good? Stressed at work?" This, coupled with the general bonhomie at the lunch tables in the terrace of the Office is also part of the charm here...a rare place where everyone starting from partner to lowly intern sits across the table and shares their lunch with the others on that table.

But I digress. This post today is not about the Office, nor about the colleagues, and not even about food...it is, on the contrary, about lack of food.

As I just mentioned, I am hungry. And I am looking forward to reaching home and cooking myself a nice, hot meal. Ordinarily, I would impatiently chop vegetables, soak rice and dal, change and freshen up somewhere between taking out the cooker, placing it on the burner, putting the tadka and turning on the television for my daily dose of Discovery Travel and Living/ NDTV Good Times/ music/ news...just about managing to hang in there till the food was done and on my plate. But what, as the thought suddenly struck me, if there was no hot food to look forward to? What if I was hungry but I didn't know where my next meal was coming from? Or if I had food in front of me, but was forced to choose not to eat it, rather saving it for my children waiting for me?

What would it be like to be actually hungry, I wonder? I mean, hungry not because I had to skip lunch today because of a series of meetings lined up through the day, but because I have not had a morsel to eat for the past four days? In this day and world where we are constantly bombarded with advertisements, endorsements and such like containing or about food, where mounthwatering food from across the globe is a mere phone call and 30 minutes (or even less) away, I wonder how many of us have actually experienced hunger...not to sound holier-than-thou or champion for the downtrodden, only because it's fashionable to be so, but as a genuine question.

I, speaking for myself, have not...and I do not know how feasible it is to try and put myself in the shoes of a genuinely hungry person by foregoing food for the next four days...for the purpose still does not get served. Even if I abstain from food for a predetermined period, I still know that I have ready access to food on the other side of that time period (or even during it, for that matter)...for me, it is just a question of wilful abstinence.

What is therefore, perhaps feasible, is to try and find a way to ensure that even someone who is genuinely hungry has access to food - like a place a person can go to when really hungry, assured of getting food (and not losing dignity in the process of getting that food). Sure, there are charitable organisations which undertake this activity on a much more regular basis and on a larger scale than I can even imagine, the Iskon temple at Juhu being the first name that comes to mind in this context...but where is the aam admi (or aurat, to be politically correct) on the road like me involved in the process? Is sustainable charity or concern for another the exclusive preserve of politicians or those who have renounced the world?

At this juncture, one may ask how the involvement of the aam admi in the process will result in any effective contribution or significant difference, for the issue is far larger than one or even several 'me's are capable of addressing, and especially because we all have come across at least one instance of an initiative begun with honest and commendable intentions, but which has fizzled out somewhere along the way, either because the enterprise requires too much time and effort, which an average Joe (or Jane) with a day job and possibly a family to take care of, may not be able to afford, or it is simply not sustainable...but I suppose a thought stands for something...and given appropriate effort, may translate into action, not at a grand scale maybe, but at a smaller scale, one that I could sustain over time...at least, it can't hurt to try.

Will keep you posted on what happens thereafter...as the train pulls into the station, it is time to pack the laptop and head home...where hot food awaits me...didn't I tell you I was hungry? :-)

Three years at work

Been a while since my last (and first :-)) post...was at a loss for inspiration..until the other day, when I got chatting with a colleague. Sweet girl, this colleague of mine, and as nutty as nutty can be...so we'll call her Nuts.

So that's what it is about today...my colleagues at work and my workplace itself. Surprising choice of topic? Not really, given as a large part of my waking hours are spent here...However, a description of the exact nature of my work is something that will take more than a couple of lines, and is therefore something I will reserve for a later post...after having lost count of the number of times I've been at the receiving end of uncomprehending, incredulous stares when I've told people that I am a corporate lawyer, ergo, a lawyer who does not go to court, I have given up trying to explain my work in a couple of lines.

But to get back to the topic at hand, it's been approximately three and a half years since I first walked in through the main doors with Ma and Baba, who wanted (a) to see where I would be working and (b) to speak with the Boss, to request him to take care of their lil girl in the big bad world outside. I distinctly remember being torn between indignation and feeling touched about the purpose behind the parents' visit at that time. Really now, one part of me had wanted to say, while the other part was super thrilled about Baba's rare display of concern for his (in his eyes) little princess.

Didn't manage to meet the Boss (who was away for a meeting), but met the Big Bosses, who took turns to scare Baba about how I would, in the future, run off for modelling assignments while lying to him about how I was working hard in office :-) before proceeding to assure him that I would be well taken care of, while I looked on incredulously, trying hard to maintain a straight face becoming of a young go getter who knew where she was headed in life.

Meeting done, I was ushered to my workstation by the recruiting partner. Was delighted to discover that I would be sitting next to a guy I had kind of become friends with during the time I was here as an intern (I had interned here the year before, before I finally joined) and was especially touched when I found out that he had arranged for it so that my work station was next to his, so that he could be around during my transition from wide eyed awe struck fresher to someone who at least had a faint idea of what was happening around her :-) and generally see me through any teething trouble that I may face.

That's when I felt this warm, fuzzy feeling growing within me about this new place that was my workplace and this whole new bunch of people who were the sweetest, most helpful bunch of guys around. I know that sounds really cliched and agonizingly similar to the mush that most freshers spout about their respective workplaces, but for me, after over three years, countless conversations/ fights/ differences of opinion with my colleagues, the statement stands. Of course, there've been innumerable ups and downs in the intervening three and a half years, but those are separate stories for another post.

Over time, I've come to realise that commitment and passion for work are all very well, but having a good workplace to walk into every morning goes a long way in helping one retain one's enthusiasm for their work.

And then of course, there's the office itself...located in an old building near Kalaghoda at Fort close to the Bombay High Court and the imposing building that is the Mumbai University, the place exudes a lovely old world charm, that had me captivated from first sight.

So that, in a nutshell, was a description of a crucial part of my life and identity in this city. Will gradually introduce, over time, several more people who've touched my life in various ways, big and small, in this place. But for now, it is time to stop and get back to reading an agreement as a part of a due diligence exercise. What's that, you ask? Well, it's just one of the many things we corporate lawyers do for a living...details to be given later, in another post. Watch this space!

Tentative first steps!

After much consideration and deliberation, I have finally decided to take the plunge...of creating my own blog. I have, for long, resisted the urge to blog, for several reasons - that I am a private person, do people really have the time or the inclination in this frenzied world to read what other people have to say, who really wants to read about what I think anyways, etc. etc. But today, I am a convert...

Blogs, and blogging, seem to have captured the world's imagination like never before! It is quite something to behold the flow of thoughts, the amazing articulateness of the bloggers and the passionate zeal with which they advocate their pet causes. It really is miraculous how people in different parts of the world reach out and connect through the blogosphere on a one-to-one basis over a universal human emotion or occurence. I remember reading a blog by a well loved blogger, about her mother's impending visit to her (till then) bachelorette pad (am not really tech savvy, else would have posted a link...it really is a gem! Promise to put up a link as soon as i can figure out how) and the commiseration by fellow bloggers and followers all over the world! Reminds me of a good old adda session, to use a typically Bengali term - basically a discussion about nothing in particular, where people get together and talk about anything and everything under the sun, where the discussion expands to include friends, friends of friends, and then their friends, and where soon enough, anyone who has an opinion on anything has an attentive, interactive audience...and the best takeaway of all this? the friends you make...

Closer home, I think one of the best examples of the blogospere getting people closer together is an initiative called India Helps, started by a blogger and a concerned citizen. This initiative, initially meant to bring together people who wanted to do something concrete after the 26/11 Mumbai attacks, has now blossomed into a full fledged organisation, comprised of an army of well meaning, earnest individuals bound together by their common belief in a society that is truly more equal. Being a part of this amazing organisation makes me proud, the power of the blogospere in getting so many like minded people together humbles me and makes me a believer, and now, also a convert! :-)

There, that wasn't too short for a first post, was it?