Fuchsia

Move

2019-02-17T15:59:00.000+00:00

I have used and loved Blogger for 14 years, but it's time. Fuchsia has a new home. Visit us here. There may continue to be some visual changes in the weeks to come, but the content remains the same.

Transformation Year

2019-02-09T12:36:00.000+00:00

I

I do not think of the current state of my body as a special post-30 phenomenon. The body is what it is, different from others' who are in their 30s, and quite obviously different from my own 20s. There is nothing profound or astonishing about the changes in its form or preferences over time.

However, there are some things that, to me, are more sensibly measured in established time units: year-on-year personal progress which is easy for me to see because of the annual reflections post.

< the sun lovingly disarms the body and mind >*

II

2018 was my year of transformation. At the end of 2017, I wrote about how I worked on resurrecting my confidence through that year. The new year opened up a new playing field for that confidence. Professionally, I got the space I'd been looking for for years, to spread out and ground my feet. Personally, I made a(nother) new attempt at managing the excess weight and this time the effort stuck. The two things fed each other - owning my space at work strangely gave me the confidence to power through the initially daunting task of changing the way I ate, and improving my diet gave me energy and clarity I had never experienced before. It was a rare win-win for which I am grateful to a lot of people who made it happen. It set the tone for many things that happened through the year...

# Firstly, I lost ten kilos. It was an all-consuming experience. I felt uncomfortable when clothes first started getting loose. It was as though a part of me was leaving me and I didn't know how to be in my own skin. There was one day when I didn't even want the change. But the change was undeniably exhilarating. I obsessed about it and people around me patiently encouraged me. I reflected on my life-long battle with being overweight and partially managed to see my size independent of me. I realised, growing up, the only options were to be skinny or fat. There was no in-between. And I was never skinny. But it took 32 years to truly realise that I was never fat either (even though I now see old photos and notice fat I couldn't see earlier). That friends and family didn't just say it because they loved me. That boys, men, aunties with nasty words didn't know better. That said, I don't yet feel confident enough about maintaining the new habits and weight now.

# I ate more vegetables in 2018 than I ever did. It sounds inane but for someone who doesn't eat meat I hardly used to give myself any options for food. Pumpkin and saag were two big break-throughs this year. There were also a lot of new types of experiments in the kitchen. My mother hasn't been happier.

# I got promoted at the beginning of the year. I badly wanted it. And that's the farthest I wanted to go in that job.

# I looked for a new job for ten months before landing on an opportunity that had interest both ways. I got the job. It has a few things that have me excited. It's early days though.

# I went to the south of Spain. Gaudi is God. Orange trees stretch for miles at end in the countryside. I fell into a pit while appreciating some almond trees - there was pain, blood, laughter, crying and some scars that have stayed.

# I also went to the south of France. It's pretty but overrated. And I SO do not relate to the high-flying life of the Riviera, nor to the trashy, flashy life of Cannes. The best discovery of the region was Fragonard - buy their perfume if you get a chance. And one for me too!

# For C's birthday, Ruhi, C and I made a road trip to Peak District. Our Airbnb had pear and apple trees in its backyard and sheep in the front yard. There is so much peace to draw from such places once you're done jumping up and down with excitement! I'm getting excited thinking about it now, nearly six months later as well.

# For his birthday we also went to the BBC Proms for a piano recital. He was happy, and I just enjoyed the fabulous ambience and music.

# I went to the ER again - this time I got great service from the NHS because my emergency sounded really scary. For a change I was scared too. This was in February.

# At the end of the year in November, I went to the ER in Oslo. Even before I arrived in Oslo, I'd noted my sole aim for the trip to not slip on ice. But slip I did!

# Ruhi kindly showed up to help out in both emergencies.

# I bought my first red lipstick. I'd toyed with the idea for a while, experimented a bit as well, but the one I found is the perfect one.

# There's a small place called Rye in England. It can make for a nice day-trip from London. Except my trip was rainy and not nice.

# My office temporarily moved to WeWork in Aldgate because of 'The Great Flood of Wigmore Street'. That's what we called the accident that involved our office's roofs falling down thanks to some blocked pipes on the floor above ours. Those three months were a new kind of London experience, including a LOT of days working from home and getting so much other stuff done.

# We went back to Tuscany - this time during the harvest season. We stayed at a vineyard, the air smelled of grapes as we drove through Chianti, the food was amazing as ever, and C upped the game further for my birthday celebrations.

# And then there was Kenya! So much of it was like India, and so much of it was nothing like I'd ever seen before. It was a true exotica-meets-nostalgia experience with all the face-to-face encounters with lions, cheetahs, African elephants, giraffes, rhinos, and others.

# One Saturday in the summer we drove to the outskirts of London to Enfield to Parkside Farm, where you can pick your own strawberries, blueberries, other berries, onions, beans, and all kinds of veggies!! Pay for what you pick and off you go! The left the car smelling of strawberries thanks to all the child-like excitement with which we shopped. I LOVED IT and totally recommend the experience for anyone who visits in the summer.

# A very different kind of trip was undertaken with Ruhi after she demanded a girls-only vacation. I went on to Skyscanner and checked where we could go for the cheapest flights. A place called Carcassonne came up in the search. I had never heard of it, so I searched for what it was all about. Looked nice and legit - and off we went! Pretty chateaus, lush green fields, French wine, bread, non-touristy experiences and a lot of talking! We ended up sending each other postcards, not knowing we were doing so until we received them days later.

# I went back to Berlin - this time for work. But I managed to spend some nice time with T (I love that boy) and did some graffiti as part of a team-building exercise. It's fun but those fumes from the colours are brutal.

# As you can tell, I travelled a lot in 2018. There were many more work trips as well. At the end of the year, my employers paid for a new passport because I'd made 19 work trips in the three years I was there. That's 57 stamps!

# I watched more DDLJ.

# I went for an evening of Shakespearean theatre at the Westminster Abbey, which was amazing in itself, and then we bumped into Pankaj Kapur(!).

# I started 'gardening' in my first floor home without a balcony. Yes, it's possible. You should do it too. It's rewarding to see a seed grow into a plant that later flowers.

# I went for a pottery class which was a lot of FUN. Damn these things are expensive af in this city!

# I experienced south Mumbai through two work trips. It was quite clearly not the Mumbai life I dislike.

# It snowed like crazy in the spring and I spent an afternoon clicking photos in my favourite Hampstead Heath.

# I went back to learning how to drive (I think I write about this topic every year). I got the best instructor in the world. I drove and drove and drove and then I failed my exam because of bad judgement at a turn, which was a result of out-of-control nerves. But I did not give up this time and finally got my licence at the end of the year. It is such a gigantic win that I cannot do anything to describe it. I'm still terribly nervous about driving on my own though but hopefully I'll overcome that as well. *fingers crossed*

# My lovely team at work organised a fabulous send-off for me before Christmas and then I went to India for a month.

# The India trip was tiring and hectic, as usual. To top it I contracted bronchitis and sinusitis in Delhi's gas chamber.

# The busy trip meant I could not get around to finishing and publishing this post on time. But here I am - six weeks late to the party.

2019 is already all-consuming but I am very available in the evenings doing nothing, watching Netflix.

*thanks to the luxury of access to a sunny terrace on 26 December.

Mainstreaming

2019-02-09T10:18:00.000+00:00

My recent trip to India got me thinking about mainstreaming. It began with the hardcore, pendu Punjabi songs which have spread like an epidemic. I wonder how and when people in Delhi became so Punjabi that they started listening to songs that are hard to understand and don't even sound good. I thought it was migration from UP and Bihar that was increasing, not Punjab. This expansion though is easily extendable to Punjabi-ism in general as well. Casual use of Sikh imagery, Punjabi words, food, and culture across public places, restaurants, radio shows, television and even films is visible everywhere. What troubles me about it is that it comes at the cost of losing nuance. In my view, by definition, mainstreaming and the associated scale (especially in India) cannot retain the richness of a thought, idea or culture.

The composition and context of my family always made us less Punjabi than what might be considered ordinarily Punjabi. As a result, certain stereotypes always bewildered me. Lately, that's gotten worse because of this same mainstreaming. People's knowledge of Punjabi culture is negligible and topped with half-understood isms. Reinforcement of stereotypes in such an environment is almost offensive. I prefer silk to sequins, wood carvings to gold paint, flat shoes to heels, vegetables to meat, less to more. But I love the dhol, Diljit Dosanjh and SUVs. You know where the stereotypes lie.

*

The upside to mainstreaming that I noticed was the one associated with Odisha's Saura art. It seems to be everywhere! Canvas paintings available on Amazon, kids' games and puzzles, home decor in local shops, life-size paint on public walls, you-name-it! I'd love to know who's behind it. It is hard for these things to get noticed, accepted and executed at such a scale without an intervention. And while I hope other art forms get similar attention, I do wonder which nuances are getting lost in this process.

This is the story of Thakur

2018-11-17T10:20:00.000+00:00

I first found Thakur at Dilli Haat's permanent Kashmir store, in 2008. Simple, economical, and totally fit for purpose.

It lived with me in Pune and we travelled together across Maharashtra. It was particularly useful during the Srivardhan trip taken in the monsoons. I still remember that leaky state transport bus!

On campus in Pune, romance blossomed with its help. The nippy weather one.

Over the years, it continued to be a good friend, and obviously moved with me to London. Here it supports me every day from September to April. I literally lose sleep if it's not around.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Thakur is a black pashmina shawl. I use it like a night cap these days because my body temperature drops significantly during sleep and I get a headache if Thakur (and its heat) goes missing.

The nomenclature emerged from the time C saw me walk around wearing it in traditional style - covering my shoulders and arms with it. Classic RB style, I got extra lazy about using my arms to do anything either. Hence, the arm-less Thakur (of Sholay fame).

Technically, the label was for me, but the shawl conveniently absorbed it. Now the shrunken, ten-year-old holds a special, permanent position on our bed, and in our lives.

My London

2018-11-05T22:38:00.003+00:00

I’ve never felt passionate about London because I live with someone who does. I’ll explain how that works.

I find it difficult to appreciate anything that I think is over-appreciated by the people around me. The most current example of this phenomenon is that I have got down to reading Shantaram now, 15 years after it was first published. I did not want to read it when every other person around me (in college) was carrying around that giant 900-page copy of the book and raving about it. Some people did it because they genuinely enjoyed it, and I am certain many did it (carrying and raving) because they needed to fit in. The noise that that resulted in acted as a repellent for me. I don’t operate well in a lot of noise. I need space to be able to think, form my own views and make my own judgments. I won’t deny being guilty of borrowing opinions, but I do enjoy some space when I can get it. And that’s why I am not a fan of videos that go viral, people who talk too much, et cetera.

Coming back to London! C loves it so much, as do most people around me (current and former residents as well as visitors), that I don’t feel like I have enough space to allow my own feelings to mature. It’s my fourth year here though, so I thought of jotting down a few things that make up my life in London.

Firstly, I check the weather forecast last thing before I go to bed and almost the first thing when I wake up in the morning. It helps decide whether I should bother washing my hair or not (windy/rainy day = pony tail day), how many and which types of layers to wear (cotton for humid, breezy day; waterproof for pissy rain day; warm for 12-15 degrees days; extra warm for 10 degrees or lower days; Eskimo-style for anything colder), and accordingly which shoes to wear (rookies do suede on a rainy day). Before you think I am exaggerating, let me clarify that ALL of these weather variances can occur within a two-week period. Last week it was 8 degrees and I got into a fight with C because he wanted to walk, and I was under-dressed for the weather (yep, despite all efforts to stay on top of the weather situation). Yesterday I grudgingly wore trousers to work because my legs weren’t waxed to wear one of the dresses I’d have rather worn in the warm, breezy weather.

Okay! With the weather monster covered, let me come to more normal things.

I was baffled the first time a stranger on the street smiled at me. And I obviously did not respond appropriately in time. On another occasion I saw C nod and smile at a stranger and I quickly jumped to enquire who it was. A stranger! How does it work in a city where people do anything they can to avoid eye contact on the tube? The only thing that helps me navigate this contradictory scenario is that I have figured this smiling business happens only on streets with a speed limit of 20 miles or lower. Yes, where the pace of life is physically slower than busier parts of the city. Avoiding eye contact feels very natural, so does avoiding conversations on the morning tube. I LOVE the unspoken rule of no conversations on the morning ride. Tourists also toe that line. But sometimes you do come across exceptions, and they are hated in good measure by everyone around them.

I’ve worked in Marylebone for most of my time here, commuting through Oxford Street almost every day. In the process, I have come across some brilliant artists busking outside stations and big stores. Their voices and their music reverberate through the busy street, making every passer-by pause for at least a moment – even if only in their heart – to appreciate the talent and magic that these individuals create. The good thing about these artists is that they never stay in one place for long. So, even if you cross the same spot every day, it’s not necessary that you’d find the same person singing or playing there every time. The surprise and freshness of the experience makes much of a mundane moment.

London’s streets also have an outlier vibe about them. The one that speaks almost in response to the conservative, patriarchal systems of the country from not a very long time ago. It almost seems like a physical, visible manifestation of the rebellion that helped people break away from the fetters of what I’d lightly call, ‘time’. I was almost ignorant of the history until I came here but seeing what I do today gives me hope for India which is still caught in awful remnants – even if deep-seeded – of the colonial times.

A better tradition that’s continued from the colonial times is the English pubs. They have no music, unlike pubs in many other cities, and they’re more communal and friendly than even a park at times. People of all ages are easily accommodated, with some pubs even having a play area for kids. Thursday evenings, on the other hand, see pubs ‘accommodating’ more people outside, on the footpath, than inside. Nobody cares for a place to sit as long as they have a beer or cider OR mulled wine and good company. It also doesn’t matter how you’re dressed – anything from a post-workout gear to a pre-wedding look goes! Extraordinary is the ‘English’ word to describe it.

London is not perfect though, as aren’t any other cities in the world. Or the world itself. It is fairly lovable with its charming architecture, beautiful parks, amazing food scene, good work-life balance, cultural action, and the short but absolutely stunning summer.

Neither hearts nor posing against pretty backdrops is usually my thing, but this was me indulging in both, near London Bridge a few weeks ago.

Dreamy

2018-09-14T15:08:00.003+01:00

One could easily miss the sharp and narrow turn in the winding road. In fact, within metres it changed to a gravel path, with sunflower fields on the left and small homes on the right, which seemed like they’d been there for centuries. The sunflowers were a clear sign of the past two months of the heat wave. The plants stood tall, but the flowers had burnt and wilted. Driving ahead slowly, there emerged the expansive grey stone property. Tastefully built, it had large glass doors on the ground floor, with a dining area on the left that could easily seat 20 people, extending to a porch outside with space for more. That porch had a shed of grape vines, from which happened to hang fully grown grapes in black, red and green. Beyond the porch were rows after rows of symmetrically-running grape vines. The vineyard had dark Cabernet Sauvignon grapes ready for harvest. That westside view was also accessible from the first-floor bedroom window. The sun setting in the distance, behind the hills had a bright, golden-orange hue. The Tuscan sun. Its low rays pierced through and overpowered every sense, every thought; giving way to a night sky filled with stars.

My understated love for daal (or dahl/dhall as known in London)

2018-07-27T16:00:00.000+01:00

I was a fussy child who could not develop a taste for any foods. My vegetarian food universe was limited to potatoes, yoghurt and bread. One argument in favour of that is it’s a non-fuss peasant’s meal. But when that’s all you eat, the body (and the mother) cries in ways you don’t want to imagine!

I slowly took a liking to lentils – all but the sprouts form of it. Every colour, every type of beans, made by anyone! Aside: As a child, I could not bring myself to swallow food cooked by anyone other than my mother. No well-meaning aunt, grandmother or neighbour, who only wanted to help the woman with a full-time job and two kids, could succeed at making me eat (anything). So, it is a big deal when I say that I could eat daal made by anyone.

But I never confessed my love for it because I preferred kidney beans (I could eat those three times a day for three straight days) over everything else. “What’s your favourite food?” “Rajma-chawal (kidney beans and rice)!” To be honest, that’s the favourite food of 90 per cent of the north-Indian vegetarians. Others enjoy things like ~~slimy~~ okra.

The other relevant fact about me is that I easily get bored. That extends to general current affairs, people, and food. For instance, I lovingly ate so much peanut butter during my hostel life in Pune that I can no longer tell what’s so special about it. Same story with melons. In fact, I have a deep existential worry about what I might do if I get bored of all the things I like and can eat.

Enter daal!

As I mentioned, I have never confessed my love for it. In fact, I’ve barely acknowledged it to myself. When I first learned how to cook though, I could not believe how easy it is to make daal. Side lesson in twisting facts: the first time I made daal, I manually soaked all the water out of it and later wondered why it was so dry. Anyway, as I was saying, making daal is very easy. The second cooking-daal-related-win was when I first made daal makhni and thought to myself that it was better than my mom’s! Presumptuous much? Clearly, but why would l lie about such a thing? And to be fair, my Gujarati dad-in-law totally vouches for my Punjabi daal makhani!

I digress.

I skipped lunch today because I felt too lazy to cook for myself. But that only lasted till 14:45, when I rushed to the kitchen and made my 20-minutes-to-joy yellow daal tadka and complimented my daal-making skills. I love daal. And I love the daal I make. You’re welcome to join for a simple meal. If the meal planning is led by my husband, it will be daal chawal. If led by the lazy me, it will still be daal chawal. If led by the me spoilt by my mother, it will be hot namak parantha and daal. My dad always tries to peg a price to his daal makhani, only to conclude that it’s far more valuable than any served by a fancy restaurant in Delhi. I can sense my tendency to go down to that path even though I totally recognise that it can’t be true. Homemade daal is not meant to compete with the dahl available on the street.

A Decade

2018-05-20T23:43:00.000+01:00

Ten years ago, I unwillingly took a step which steered the course of my life in almost its entirety. I decided to pursue a master’s programme from Symbiosis, which, in theory, was a step back after having spent the previous three years at a far more prestigious institution in Delhi. From an academic perspective, the two years at Symbiosis were a sham and shame. If I could offer any advice to those running that programme, I’d restructure and redesign every element of it. Nonetheless, the time there was packed with several other elements which are hard to ignore even today.

1. I learned I am capable of being severely self-destructive.

My environment festered a series of negative experiences which pushed me to one of the lowest points of existence I have experienced so far. And I saw how I perpetuated my situation and circumstances instead of lifting my head above water. Ten years on, I can’t confidently say that I have overcome that behavioural tendency, but an acute awareness of it makes me somewhat control it to an extent.

2. I was exposed to sexuality, the different facets of it, and the normality of it all.

When I moved to London in 2015 and met the people that I did, I realised that my assumptions about ‘normal’ were not universal. People who had seemingly similar backgrounds as I had views that I found jarring and at times, appalling.

3. I took very long to appreciate the diversity of people around me.

In retrospect, even a passive existence in that atmosphere widened my perspective a great deal. People around me weren’t all type As (natural, forced or pretentious) running after the same thing. I was surrounded by the flaky, the fickle; the straight shooters, the obnoxious; the driven, the creative; and many other types. And it took a few years for me to, firstly, be patient about it, and secondly, appreciate the importance of it.

4. I made friends for life.

I dreaded the idea of being surrounded by people 24x7, and struggled when I had to choose between playing along and decompressing (or isolating myself). But despite that and the many differences, I managed to find people who I can confidently trust to remain in the inner circle. It was the first time I was as comfortable as I was with people (even if a select few) and certainly the first time when intellectual or cultural backgrounds and differences didn’t come in the way. In fact, during those years I also got closer to a friend from before, and I am thankful for her reckless use of her cell phone at the time.

5. I started travelling.

I come from a typical, middle class, conservative family where both parents had full time jobs, ie, they neither had the time to take me on holidays, nor did they have any interest in letting me go on my own. Until I was forced to be 1500 kms away from them. It started with a short trip to the Ajanta and Ellora caves. And there’s been no looking back. The opportunity and ability to travel saved my sanity when I had nothing else to look forward to in life. And it gave me experiences that have ranged from soul-stirring to outright fun.

6. I appreciated life outside Delhi.

I was obsessed about Delhi then and until much later. Then I started living in a place which, in stark contrast to my life in Delhi, had no facilities except an en-suite bathroom for luxury. From minor comforts to being surrounded by nature to realising that albeit normalised, certain behaviours and cultures are not normal.

7. I experienced a life of struggle.

I brought it upon myself. My ambitions, personal desires and decisions were completely out of sync, and I was looking down a rabbit hole with no ability to sort myself out or seek help. That dragged on for a few years before making any sense whatsoever. Now, 8-10 years later, from a somewhat objective vantage point, I still think that the struggle was intense and the overcoming of it, real.

If it wasn’t for that decision, I’d have probably picked a boring career that paid more. I’d have met a different set of people, experienced time and places in a different context and perhaps had a different set of reflections at this stage. It’s been a rich decade nonetheless and I am at that terrifying juncture beyond which I never envisioned what life might be like. Let’s see where it goes.

N

2018-03-16T11:29:00.003+00:00

[2017 reflections] # I got a new manager at work. I resisted working with him (an Indian male) when I first heard about him. But I am thankful for his influence on my mind.

He introduced himself on the phone as a problem solver. A year later it seems like an obvious fact to me and surely many others who worked with him or even existed around him. But during that call I wondered why he said that. Why he was elevator-pitching at me. Sure, he was set to be my next manager, but I didn’t have any problems I wanted him to solve.

I was so wrong. He is leaving soon and I am wishing he’d stay. However, it’s good he’s leaving or I would have made him my crutch. Part of me wishes he’d stay because he’s the only person like himself.

I first met him in January 2017. My very first impression of him (beyond what was built up based on conversations about him) was that he looks like a wise, old man. The big eyes were filled with deep experience. I then thought he tried hard to get along and be liked by everyone. Just like the uncle who would always bring something for everyone every time he visited. Except that this guy wasn’t pleasing people with regular presents; he was unwrapping valuable gifts in the form of work solutions that colleagues needed. And they weren’t uniform gifts. He had solutions that ranged from product roadmaps to sales strategies to a how-to on dealing with difficult colleagues. Sometimes people didn’t know they needed a solution at all. He would just glide in, write a problem on the board making people believe in it, and then give them a solution for it as well. Most often, people left feeling thankful.

My conversations with him have ranged from deeply uncomfortable to highly inspirational. I have only known one other person whose practical application of their knowledge has been as precise and thoughtful as his. The only difference between the two has been their approach to how they interact with people around them. N, very consciously, has treated everyone as a peer, opening a channel that can only be productive in a professional interaction. I think it is safe to say that he is the type of person who takes people along with them. A year ago, I could not have imagined having a direct and open conversation with him or any other senior colleague without an unfounded fear established by hierarchy. Of course, there are still some people with whom I cannot be as open as I’d like, but I feel like I am now at a point where I don’t consider that as a shortcoming at my end.

He has left me in tears on occasion – not because he managed to offend me but because he helped me unravel perspectives (and sometimes facts) that I never considered with sufficient clarity or thought. I winced when he asked me to read a book on self-awareness. And I never read that book, but I now know why he asked me to read it.

I have also laughed at his absurdity and our disagreements alike. And I appreciate how he never made a bone about any of it.

He recently introduced me to the idea of an idea independent of the self. We agreed that I am a few steps away from being successful at not being attached to my ideas, but it certainly provoked a thought that I am glad has stuck with me.

His own defence mechanism is quite evident. As most things N, most of it is deliberate, and some of it natural. He has always come across as confident and in control, and I am not the one to get personal with anyone at work. But based on what I have sensed, I hope he does okay and gets all that he needs. I, for one, will always be wishing well.

***

NRI

2018-01-26T10:30:00.000+00:00

I have been a non-resident Indian (NRI) for four years. And that has defined a vast majority of my circumstances and actions throughout this time. Everything from my ability to vote for the British parliament to being at the receiving end of puzzled looks for pronouncing words differently from how they’re said outside India – it has all been about me being an Indian in a context outside of its boundaries, physical or otherwise.

I have consciously avoided discussing this position on social media and with most people outside my immediate circle because often instant judgments and opinions are passed at the mention of a fancy-sounding city. So, I neither post photos of the Big Ben, nor do I comment on India’s politics on Facebook. Because I fear all of it gets perceived through this first filter of a non-resident voice which leaves me a little more than uncomfortable.

Some of these perceptions are grounded in fair assessment. If one is 5,000 miles away from the country, it is so convenient to make commentary about issues – political or civic – because undeniably, none of them affect us on a daily basis.

I am also guilty of subscribing to the stereotype about NRIs loving to stroke their nostalgia about how great things are – or at least ought to be – back home. I left the country in 2014, before the last general elections, and that is my locus for how things are in India. #BMKJ is hard to digest because I don’t know whom to believe and with whom to argue. I don’t live there, so my alternative truth is all the more convoluted than those two people’s whose ideologies might differ but for whom at least the physical context is the same.

But I still have a problem.

NRIs are not just armchair activists or commentators, Karan Johar-loving desh bhakts who cry every time Rehman’s Swades shehnai echoes in their ears. They don’t all donate money to Modi even if a mind-boggling number of them are from Gujarat. And they aren’t all awestruck by the idea of India buying more Burberry bags than some other international markets.

The privilege of an opportunity outside India goes away as soon as that plane leaves India’s boundaries. An NRI often begins as a mess in their host country because he/she doesn’t understand the words, the smells, the styles or the motivations of the people who surround them.

They struggle to understand cultures. They struggle to adjust and be accepted. They struggle to make friends. They get hurt and learn lessons the hard way at work because they don’t know the ways of the new people. Their learning curves are steep and that is often on the back of having to start from scratch.

If they make friends with only Indians – “oh what’s the point of being there then!”

If they marry someone who’s not Indian – “oh my god this person is gone forever now!”

NRIs work on Republic Day, Holi, Independence Day, Rakhi, Diwali, you name it! Maybe Eid will be off. Christmas most likely will be off. They miss the weddings back home. And they miss the reunions too. Sometimes they choose to, but often they are forced to. It is heartbreakingly painful to come to terms with a grey, rainy, Diwali day, topped with a difficult day at work. There’s no luxury to pause for a day because it is the most special one of the year. And there is often no family to share a meal with either.

And then they get judged for being brown. Sometimes they get attacked for being brown. The second-generation Indians judge them too.

Amrish Puri’s dhobi ka kutta, na ghar ka, na ghaat ka rings true at some level. But what do you know, we still love DDLJ and all the current-day opulence.

To be fair, many like me do live a good life despite these challenges. Same as being in Mumbai or Delhi, right? It is a good life even if sewers are over-flowing and auto guys continue to be a pain. I make a like-for-like comparison here. This is not about those Indians who go straight from a village in Punjab to Toronto or London, having completely skipped a big Indian city. Nor is this about an average middle-class person in Delhi or Mumbai who only goes to a mall or metro station for air conditioning. Like for like.

The opportunity cost of an international opportunity is quite big, and often easily overlooked.

Meryl Streep

2018-01-25T22:09:00.001+00:00

I watched The Post last weekend. There are two things that I took away from that afternoon.

1. The movie began on an ordinary note and picked up at some point at the one-hour mark. And it only went up from there.

2. Meryl Streep blew my mind with her performance. I know there’s nothing that hasn’t already been said and established about her and her skills, but oh-my-god she brought out the core of her character, built over several decades, in just over an hour. Her body language and gestures and voice and expressions, packaged with great dialogues and Steven Spielberg’s direction left me with a massive lump in my throat. And it wasn’t a linear emotion of sadness. Her acting was so fantastically nuanced that I think I experienced empathy for a distraught woman, along with pride and joy for her and her decisions all at the same time. She subtly brought to life the journey and transformation of a woman who always founded her identity in family to someone who owned a room (and the screen) full of middle-aged white men ready to walk all over her.

What a scene!

How can one be so brilliant! SO MUCH RESPECT!

That Struggle

2018-01-24T16:42:00.000+00:00

For a while now I have felt the pressure of ‘showing up’ and ‘being visible’ or ‘being heard’ in professional and social settings. Some of this pressure comes from the people around me – those who are in a position to judge or offer advice – and some of it is self-imposed.

Over the years, I have read a lot about personality types, introversion and people having different sources of energy or different motivations to behave in the manner that they choose. But I have not yet succeeded in identifying and (therefore) being comfortable in a space that I can call my own.

There are times when I agree with this advice I receive and work on exactly what people say – being visible and heard. I make an effort to voice my points of view or make space for myself in group settings. Then there are times where my lack of interest in a topic supersedes the said effort. You know, where I just cannot be bothered. The action could be directly related to the topic, or to the people associated with it and their behaviour, or simply a lack of energy that I often experience for a reason not apparent to me.

Then there are times when my mind refuses to ‘adapt’ and wishes for others to adapt to my style. Maybe sometimes some people do adapt. But it feels inadequate quite often. It feels as though others are continuing with their high-pitch, high energy world and I am getting behind, with only my stillness for company.

And then there are times when I genuinely experience big spurts of energy which make me want to lead from the front, be in the centre of the universe, even compete with others for that single spot under the light.

I don’t know how to bring this all together. There are a few thoughts and actions in progress, but I still don’t have a view of the string that ties it all together.

Firstly, I have taken that professional advice seriously and signed up for professional coaching that can help me be visible and advance in my career. Part of me hates it and another part of me loves how empowering it feels.

Secondly, the ~~arrogance~~ voice in my head that works on improving my confidence tells me that I don’t have to bend over backwards to be able to fit in or move along with the rest of the world. That voice has influenced an idea to start something where I can bring people like myself together and start a commercial venture that operates outside of the traditional, type A, exhausting model. Something that genuinely draws on the strength of people like myself, not do lip-service in the name of diversity. I shared this idea with another person like myself who was very pleased to learn about it. That confirmed I am not the only one wishing for something like it. I just don’t know yet what it is that this venture could monetise.

The challenge is that I want everything. I want success as measured in the world that I don’t see myself fitting into. And I want to stop oppressing parts of my mind that feel out of sync with the rest of the world. And then, I need to address the gap that exists in my mind about my ability to excel at anything specific. ASIDE: as a child, I wondered if there was a profession for cutting paper with scissors because I enjoyed the process too much. I still do. So, if there does exist such a profession, please do inform me about it.

I’d agree with you if after reading this you think that being honest with myself and introducing some discipline in my life could be good starting points. But I struggle with the latter. I have tried many different approaches. But I struggle.

Another year down!

2017-12-29T14:27:00.001+00:00

The uninteresting thing about this past year is that it was part-success and part-failure. What is notable though is that I was acutely aware of the shortcomings that led to what I believe were failures, and I tussled with my mind through every moment I spent with myself to overcome what that awareness was doing to my mind.

My conversations with myself have reduced considerably over the past few years, but I remember reassuring and reminding myself of the good things on many-a-walks to and from the tube this year. It is safe to say that 2017 has been about resurrecting, protecting and boosting my confidence across every aspect of life.

It was a somewhat slow year though, with no events and milestones comparable to the past few years’. But maybe that is what I needed to be able to reflect, work on the confidence and think about the future. I had given up on future-planning in 2007. And again in 2010. And again in 2014. Let’s see if 2018 can be different. But we’ll come back to that another time. Let’s first drive through 2017 and tell me if you see a trend through it.

It is hard to remember the highlights given the poor performance of this journal this year. But here’s what we have…

# In January, I returned from a holiday in India to my first maternity photo shoot on a biting cold day. It was fun and resulted in another assignment within weeks, which was already an improvement over the previous one.

# I also did a baby shoot and enjoyed myself more than I expected to.

# I missed a wedding in Goa that I’d have liked to attend, not least for the fact that the teetotaller C had champagne there and I would have liked to enjoy his company in that light-headed state too.

# I gave running a serious go for the first time. I prepared for and ran a 10k in the spring. It was hard work. I didn’t credit myself enough for it knowing that I could have done a lot better and that there are much bigger milestones to achieve in that space. I did realise the value of it immediately (less fat and better health) but it was much later (when I tried to resume running after a few months) that I realised what I had managed was also considerable. I closed the year with a 5k on yet another crazily cold day before I went off for a final holiday with the family in India.

# C was the biggest support through this business of running. I don’t know if I would have been able to do what he did, or if I had even been able to do what I did, without him.

# I started the process of getting a driver’s license AGAIN. If I hit my death bed before getting this document, I might just classify it as the biggest bummer of my life.

# We travelled differently this year. Instead of many small trips, we did two long ones (Greece and Italy) and a few domestic ones.

# Greece was special because there I trekked 16 kilometres through one of Europe’s longest gorges, Samaria. #personalbest and all that. And it had lovely beaches. And some amazing drives. Plus good food with feta cheese in everything. And the world’s best oranges.

# My tablet got stolen in that country too!

# But what do you know, my new phone got stolen in London!

# We bought a used car, a Mini, and made a few special trips to the English countryside - New Forest, Bath, Castle Comb, Epping Forest and Wotton.

# We also realised that we got conned with that car and so we sold it after several painful and costly attempts at its upkeep.

# I personally don’t regret it because not only did it teach us a thing or two about cars, but I got to explore and experience places in a manner that was otherwise impossible.

# I discovered rapeseed fields in the UK which are exactly like our sarson ke khet!

# I drove past sarson ke khet in Rajasthan!

# I hope you realise sarson ke khet is an I-love-DDLJ-and-am-a-romantic special!

# I bought my first bikini.

# And I bought a pair of boots that I had been looking for, for three years – black, leather (not suede), knee-length, flat and comfortable.

# I bought more Batman memorabilia – from cufflinks to doormat – for the mister.

# I experienced heavy snowfall for the first time during one of many work trips to Oslo.

# I had a massive fall in the snow. It was effing painful but hilarious given that I was walking with a funny bunch of colleagues who laughed at me like teenagers do in such situations.

# One of the Norway work trips had an overnight meeting in a cabin in the mountains three hours from Oslo. That venue may just top my list of take-aways from this job.

# I had a mini crush on a dashing and absurdly handsome colleague. It was several months ago but I still cannot believe my eyes every time I see him. Maybe I am still crushing.

# I received the most articulate and pointedly negative criticism of my career. This was followed up by a rather embellished appreciation by the same man the morning after. And then a large bottle of alcohol for good work a few weeks later. Corporate joys.

# Birthday was a surprise trip to the mountains in Scotland! This included C writing to my manager and getting a holiday approved without my knowledge. Thank goodness it went well.

# Priyam sent me a hand-written card.

# The mom-dad duo visited London!

# During that trip, I discovered some new things about my dad and my relationship with him.

# Mom could not get over the floral delight of London’s fake summer and I am so glad she could experience it.

# I did another trek – between two coastal villages in Cinque Terre, Italy – on a day so hot that C took his shirt off during the trek. The views were spectacular but I wasn’t wearing the right shoes.

# Tuscany was a dream and I cannot believe I used to judge people who picked Italy when given a choice to travel to one country in Europe from India.

# I visited limestone caves and saw stalactites and stalagmites 15 years after I first learned about them in Chemistry class.

# C also tried a local wine in Tuscany which he loved so much that we went fine-dining to the only restaurant in London that served it and later ordered an entire case of that red for home!

# Went on board the London Eye.

# Awkwardly accessed free food and drinks at an airline lounge for the first time.

# Too many people announced pregnancies while I still interrogate the purpose of having a child.

# I took my first staycation and I think should plan more of those for the next year.

# Sahil and I met after over three years.

# I tried resuming Zumba but I just cannot seem to find the right instructor and class. The one in Abu Dhabi has been hard to match.

# Ruhi moved to London!

# Avan came to spend a night with me and we spoke all night! It felt as though a year’s worth of burden came off my mind.

# I saw a gorgeous sunset in Udaipur.

# I started taking 1:1 coaching for professional development.

# I watched the goddess, Abida Parveen live! Sigh, the goosebumps!

# I also watched Aditi Mittal live (ahem) and admitted to being a connoisseur of toilet humour.

# I got excessively bothered by the actions and existence of someone I dislike.

# Suvvir finally seemed to start thinking beyond cars.

# And I luckily managed to make it to his 5th birthday party.

# I got gifted a tiger ornament from someone at work who believes that it is my spirit animal. It is hard to describe the feeling it gave to my battered heart.

# I took a trip with family to Jaipur. The last time we all travelled together was in 2013.

# I was diagnosed with restless legs syndrome. Meh.

# I had another root canal.

# I thought about starting something of my own.

# I let the mane grow to its longest length yet, and the recent haircut was the cheapest of the last five years (because it was boring). It is ironic that fashionable London has made my hair boring – all thanks to its humidity!

# My sugar addiction got worse. I’m open to help you might have to offer.

# I got a new manager at work. I resisted working with him (an Indian male) when I first heard about him. But I am thankful for his influence on my mind.

# I had to give up on yet another relationship. I can’t believe this keeps happening every year. Now waiting for a damn steady state.

# 31 is a very boring number.

# I have decided to learn python in the new year.

# I met one of the super-bosses from the past and was surprised by how warm and forthcoming he was!

# I spoke with one of the other bosses I used to admire, and was disappointed by his manner.

# I went to the Suraj Kund Mela for the first time. What an over-hyped and underwhelming carnival!

# 2.5 years down, and I am still struggling to withdraw my provident fund!

# New Year’s Eve was quiet last year, and I have a feeling it will be even quieter this year.

Frames

2017-11-24T16:15:00.001+00:00

What is the ideal distance between reality and imagination? If we consider a basic two-dimensional axis, with reality plotted at 0, how far out can we stretch in either direction before losing sight of the 0?

Stating the obvious

2017-11-22T23:17:00.003+00:00

Do you ever experience that feeling where most things you hear seem obvious, and most things you (want to) say also seem obvious? Obviously, that leaves a lot of room for silence, but silence isn’t easy to deal with for most people. Whether it’s the professional world or personal spaces, many individuals tend to fill up space and time with obvious words, leaving you bored and jaded.

Aside: I know some of you can sense the paradox here.

But then there are things that blow your mind – facts you weren’t familiar with, stories that are well-told, opinions that you value, and so on. But those facts may be obvious to someone else, that story might not be compelling for another person, and as is the case often enough, opinions aren’t appreciated by many.

Does that mean those words shouldn’t be shared? Or does it mean people should be credited for their ability to discern and select what they genuinely find stimulating? The latter, obviously?

I personally struggle to retain interest in anything or anyone for long. That directly impacts my motivation levels and as a result, the outcomes of anything I might desire. I can’t keep a hobby, I can’t keep to a fitness regime, I can’t even commit to foods I like because I get bored easily. It is a difficult place to be in because this behaviour compromises my ability to achieve the superlative in any space, leaving a sense of resentment that is hard to negotiate.

The other extreme that I experience is obsession. It doesn’t take much for me to get obsessive about things. These range from relationships (ie, why didn’t they reply to my message) to codes that I spend hours trying to fix despite being acutely aware that my knowledge of the language that is a prerequisite for that solve is abysmally low.

I oscillate between feelings of envy and respect for people who channel their obsessions productively towards a goal that matters to them. Meanwhile I blankly spiral in my maze of unfinished thoughts, words and businesses.

Age

2017-09-28T21:02:00.000+01:00

A wound brings out the tiger in me, not the puppy.

Why I love my friends of 10 years ago, feel a hesitant affection for the new ones, but there’s largely a non-emotion for most of those I hang out with today

2017-07-06T13:19:00.002+01:00

For me, love has always had a direct correlation with vulnerability. People who feel comfortable enough to expose their vulnerability to me and those whom I can trust with mine have probably been the most special. Of course, it works the other way around too. If I lose trust in someone for some reason, the first thing that will lead to a receding feeling of love is my unwillingness (or inability, really) to be open and vulnerable with them.

Ten or more years ago, ~~Swami~~ me and friends were basically a big group of hormones and emotions on steroids. Even if we wanted and tried, vulnerability was hard to disguise. Personally, I would take that over polished conversations about politics any day. The only thing I’d perhaps change is the number of people whose drama (obviously associated with it) I’d embrace. The threshold for that has gone down. And my unverified sense is that this continuously declining threshold (which later converts into one for own babies) also has a big role to play in people ‘growing up’. And of course, it happens across entire networks of friends.

I must admit though that being a grown up is boring. The process of getting here has sucked out a lot of emotion and energy. Or as some people might want to put it, it has made them more ‘put together’ and ‘in control’. Right, like you can ever control life!

Coming back to people. The thing about those old emotionally charged times is that in most cases they see you and relationships through many years that follow. I may have not seen some people I consider my closest friends in over three years, but when I do, not for a moment will I think that I can’t discuss the colour of my poop or the shape of my heart with them. We built our floats together when we had all that unaccounted-for time. Most of those floats are in good shape.

Before you start questioning all this through the marital lens, yes, that does change things a little. But it doesn’t have to call for a "you are a different person now that you’re married" monologue. Of course, we are all different from what we used to be! Many come in a pack of two and that changes the dimension (ha!) of conversations at times. Some more significantly than others. But the core doesn’t change.

This is not how new friendships operate.

There are some people who are of the open and outgoing variety, willing to have a conversation about what’s on their minds. In my experience, they have been the easiest to forge a connection with. Mind you, they aren’t necessarily the centre-of-the-class attention grabbers. They often are, but the qualifier really is that they haven’t fully subscribed to the notion of being perfect when in public. And that’s enough to work with.

But a conversation about the weather, the parks, food or the movies, politics or M&As, one lovely vacation versus another, or even cats and maids doesn’t do it for me. It is utterly sad but it is true. I am guilty of indulging in this. And you know how peer pressure shows up at 30? If they don’t seem to fall or fail, how can they know that I do!

10 Years of Fuchsia

2016-12-19T21:00:00.000+00:00

Fuchsia completes ten years this month. It has been a special companion over the years. It has given me memorable moments and unique friendships and been the best mirror I could have to reflect and right-size my perspective on various things.

A decade is a long time if, like me, you enjoy reflecting on the past. I am so embarrassed by the things that I wrote about in 2007 that I almost want to make it all private. And yet, knowing that I was awfully invested in most of what I wrote I’d rather let it all sit as one long, unedited story because that is what it really is. So, as I judge 20-year-olds today for their immaturity, misplaced priorities and unexplainable sense of self, Fuchsia does the painful job of humbling me because that’s how I could define the 20-year-old me as well. My sense of self may still be questionable but then that will remain true even when I turn 50.

I reached out to almost everyone who I know reads or used to read this space, to get a view of what they made of it. Most of these folks are very dear friends anyway but their words have all been extremely kind – in part pleasantly surprising and mostly heart-warming. There was an obvious trend in terms of things that are popular: the year-end reviews top that list, followed by the travelogues, people posts and the fact that most people struggle with the name’s spelling.

I promised these people (you) that I will publish their inputs on the blog but I am feeling torn about it because so many of those words have been given a lot of thought and feeling and I have connected with them in a very personal way. When I first made the request, the intent was to simply find a meaningful way of celebrating this milestone for the blog. But I guess I didn’t think through the fact that the blog and I are interchangeable given the nature of the content here. Long story short – I am feeling shy about it all. But to keep my word and for posterity, I am copying below all the responses, along with a few words on my relationship with respective authors.

AB - the deep thinking, thoughtful and quiet person who has been around since 2008.

"1. https://goo.gl/eypVFA - because people mock me for the first few adjectives till this day and I go back to the post when I feel low sometimes.

2. https://goo.gl/RkbXDJ - because this is true each time reality hits you in the face from a friendship/relationship gone wrong

3. goo.gl/3HsMb9 - because I missed it and this made me live it

4. https://goo.gl/LlN6O6 - because you need no reason not to like it"

***

SS - the college junior who is uncannily similar and yet so different from me. We have hardly ever exchanged a word outside the virtual world, but there have been one too many exchanges about broken hearts and we have had a strangely parallel life story.

"Ok, so this isn't one particular post, but I absolutely loved going through your annual roundup at the end of every year....and the fact that you seem to share my love for bullet points :D

Over the years, your blog has been a mirror of my life, a friend in need (and once an actual friend with flowers on a bad day!).

And at any point, it seems to have more direction than mine!!

Tell me something new!!!"

***

SP - a blogger friend from when the idea of a blog was new and Blogger wasn't a Google product. We have come a long way since those very different times of online banter which also led to real friendships.

"Happy Birthday to Fuchsiafunny! Can't believe it's ten years already! Over the course of these ten years, how things have changed! There was a time, we were writing blogs thrice a week, and playing "Me Firsts" over who would comment first. Then there were those tag posts.

For some of us, the habit of writing blogs came down to once a week, then once a month, and then ... just blank. Glad you are still up to it. I promise I will visit more often."

***

RA - the friend whose name brings a smile to the face and whose words are music for the ears. I hope he seriously considers writing for the world, and I sincerely hope he gets all that he deserves in life.

"I cannot begin to tell you how happy it makes me that Fuchsia is 10. Even though I still can't spell it correctly (despite Priyam's best attempts), your blog means a lot more than I will ever be able to explain in words. The closest I can describe it is that one warm comfortable place we all have in our heads when we need a place to rest and just be. You and your blog have always been that to me and will always be. With the right words, at the right time with just the right amount of weight needed. No matter the time or the distance, every post has always felt like an on-going conversation we can pick up when we need to.

My happiest memories from your blog are two-fold - travel and friends. I still maintain that you are the best when it comes to planning travel. Dates, routes, plans, people, you have it all. And more than anything else, you have the drive to make it happen even with everyone else around you might flake (guilty always). Each of your travel posts is rich not just for the meticulous plans but for the human aspects of it. I can tell by the words the Excel sheet that must have been made, hear the conversations before decisions taken, and sense the palpable excitement the night before. The fact that it comes out so clearly and well researched is testimony to your will to make things happen. I can never match that and it is something that I will always admire you for.

Posts about your friends are my other favourite. I know some, I don't know the others but there is a warmth in the way they are described which must make them pretty darn special. Your inner circle is made up of wonderful people and posts about them are a joy to read because you can tell exactly why they are so special to you. It is one thing to reach out and write about someone, it is something else to do with all your heart. You always manage the latter. I hope you never lose this quality of going beyond just the person and their circumstances but really look into who they are and what makes them special to you. I know each one of them are glad to call you a friend for it.

I know that the words don't come as easily anymore (I have waited for them none the less), nor does the will to post with the rigour you used to earlier but it is all part of a process I feel is good for you. They will come when they must, just like everything else in life. I have long realised that to fight it and attempt things that are not ready for their time is futile and heartbreaking.

Fuchsia is and will always be a celebration of your life. And the people and things that make it what it is, new and old. I am just glad to be part of the ride."

***

KR - I found him in a corner of the Internet, writing about life at the college I was considering joining. Join I did but again, we hardly ever exchanged a word on campus. I'm glad though that there were other meaningful words over the years, even if limited in number.

"For me, the one thing that always stood out was your thoughts on family and family members. Rather than soppy love letters to people we love, they drew out family members as characters for me, adding details over time. The other thing was your travelogues- they were long and winding (sometimes) but they gave more than we went here and did that. And the photologues were always a treat!

Please start writing again."

***

CG - Brevity in words and vastness in emotion (often for the self, as reflected here). He has supported and encouraged me like I would have never expected anyone to.

"You write well.

Keep writing.

I really like your travel blogs chronicling your trips. It would be ideal if you can post them sooner after your trips rather than a year.

Also I like your husband character…."

***

PC - The friend with a big heart and romantic dreams. Always there for everyone around her, including those who don't see her.

"Congratulations once again on Fuchsia’s special birthday!

Until 2008, fuchsia was just a colour. But then everything changed.

I cannot remember the exact circumstances in which I was introduced to fuchsiafunny (I still wonder why you named it so) – but I recall it being a routine to check it several times a week for new content. You were called Aarbee and I was massively impressed.

Fuchsia and you introduced me to blogging. To be able to chronicle moments and feelings in a way that was private and exclusive to people whom I shared it with. I still remember the day you came down to my hostel room and helped me created my own blog – which has been ignored this past year, but still dear to me. I cannot thank you enough!

I’ve always loved reading your year-in-review posts – like this one – and have shamelessly adapted it into a style of mine. Also, I was often inspired by how you chronicled trips, never concentrating on the best photograph – but the best moment.

However, my particular favourites have been the little profile posts you did on people. It felt like those were things you would never say – but could express with so much ease. Obviously the one that touched my heart was a little line you once wrote for me in this post – I don’t think I’ve been described better. Thank you.

Also, thank you –

for introducing me to blogs

for always reading mine, and taking it seriously

for never giving up on writing

Here’s to another awesome decade for Fuchsia! <3"

***

NS - Funnily, in this short list of people, she is the third with whom I only barely exchanged smiles in the hostel and maybe never spoke for real. We've had a quiet equation through our blogs but it has been very special, nonetheless.

"...Knowing you has been a unique experience. True to the laws of the physical world—I saw you first and then heard you through Fuschsia! And this journey has been incredibly inspirational, beautiful and comforting.

Inspirational: Because it made me want to write and express. Made me realize how empowering and therapeutic a blog can be. I had a blog when I first read Fushsia but I made it me and mine only later.

Confession: Sometimes before I got down to writing my own post, I would often visit Fuschsia to warm up to the melody of words, moments and emotions.

Beautiful: Because the journey has been so! We have not met since I started reading Fuchsia but I feel I know you—not in terms of your favorite food, movie etc. But in the sense of being comfortable and confident buying a birthday present for you :)

Comforting: Because you make vulnerability cool! As a writer, I have always been conflicted and cautious of what I write but reading you helped me understand where I wanted to settle. That sweet spot of honesty, realization and acceptance. I truly admire the way you travel and report from the spaces of heart and mind!

Fuchsia has helped me in my journey as a person and as a writer! Thank you for creating and nurturing it! It has been a pleasure knowing you :)"

***

AK - Mad friend, with whom I first interacted at a random group discussion ten years ago too. Our next interaction was several months later in a completely different setting. It's sisterly love now.

"Fuschia Funny is my window into one of my bestest friend’s heart. Every few weeks I find myself typing “F….u….s….c…h….” – you get it – into Google to find out what’s happening with “RB’s” life.

I always tell you - that it doesn’t matter how close we are, you’re one person whose feelings I can never predict. I find it amusing that I get so unexpectedly surprised or moved by some of the things you say on the blog. Like half the things you say there – I never see them coming! As much as that might reflect badly on me from an outsider’s perspective, that’s precisely what makes your blog so precious to me. It’s my way of truly knowing you as well as I possibly can.

The other thing that makes it precious is that it always makes me feel connected to your life. Save a camping trip to Rishikesh aeons ago, we never got around to planning a vacay together after that, now the continents keep us apart, and the last 5 times we met, felt like a 30 minute summary of the months gone by. So the blog is my friend here and I don’t feel like you live a thousand miles away from me, whenever I’m reading it.

My favourite blog posts were all the ones that had me mentioned in them. Ok, kidding, kidding.

My hands-down all-time favourite posts are your ‘year in reviews’! And just as I started writing this, I went to your blog once and realized that the one for 2016 is already up! Big, Fat, Yay! They’re honest and motivational and funny and such a great testimony to how self-aware you are. They force me to think about how my own year was and help me feel grateful about the good things and learn from the bad things that went down that year. Everyone in the world should I have year-in -review, like you do! It is the bestest post and I look forward to it every year ☺

I wanna end this by raising a huge toast to ten years of your honest and heartwarming writing. And know that no matter how little or how much you write or no matter where you are in the world, you’ll always have a reader who feels almost child-like excitement, at the thought of a new post on Fuschia Funny."

***

I am grateful for the time each of you take to read and respond to my words. Your words now and always (either as comments or personal notes and phone calls) complete the feelings that I feel. As much as writing in itself is a healing process, your words have saved me on my worst days. And as much as the blog gives me a listener for an endless rant, your responses tell me I can continue to do what I like without being classified as mad.

THANK YOU.

Long Read

2016-12-15T17:30:00.000+00:00

2016. The year of Brexit. The year of Trump. The year of proxy wars. The year of ugly politics the world over. Another year of irreparable damage to nature. The generations to come will have a lot to study about this year. Whatever form our species takes in the coming centuries will also have much to understand how we go extinct.

In the past, friends from India and I have dwelled over how we form and represent a small, perhaps one per cent of India’s population. It is widely understood that India is a complex beast but we often lose ourselves in our little bubbles and get frustrated with the things that happen (or not) in the country.

The events of this year have reinforced just how disconnected our bubble really is from reality. To vote for the UK to stay in Europe and be shocked at the results was a rude shock for many like me living in major cities in the country. But what it did do was readjust my compass to make an effort to understand how most people are thinking.

Trump kept shocking and entertaining us through most of the year but after Brexit, I did not rule out the possibility of him winning the election. The shock when he won was at the people who could not believe it. The heartbreak and emotional turmoil that it caused was also interesting for me to observe. Obviously, it was more visible among American friends and colleagues but I have never before witnessed that kind of response to a political event. Obama’s 2008 victory came with such positivism that I didn’t make much of it then. Of course, in 2008, I was more consumed by being on that hill top, submitting assignments, crushing on nature, attempting to make a long distance relationship work, picking up on the world of the questionably wise, old monk that I probably did not even register much beyond the fact that the US had a new president.

These memories of 2008 are making me shake my head and smile as I sit here on a disputed window seat of a Dreamliner on a long haul flight to my old home, Abu Dhabi. A young desi family in true desi style just sat on my seat and expected me to take their seat elsewhere in the cabin when I arrived. Of course, I did not choose seat number 79 to give up on my window. And so I refused and made a kid get up. I felt a little cheap but only a little.

Being on an Etihad aircraft to Abu Dhabi also brings back memories. It is already two years since that as well. A lot of that time was bitter and negative but I often remember the good times spent in my breezy studio by the beach. And so I am glad to be hitting AD even if for an hour at the airport before I reach Delhi on a holiday! I have made several work trips home this year but most of them have been hectic and stressful. And this one is tad special as I will go to my parents’ home straight from the airport after more than a year. And with all that, I justify dancing in my seat to dhinchak Bollywood numbers. I have a feeling these headphones aren’t the greatest and so people around me can not only see my bobbing head but also clearly know what’s making me do it. But who cares!

2016. A new job. More travel. A new house. A lot of negotiations. New relationships. New culture. A learning curve in relationships. Weight gain. Same old pattern of health issues. Some clingy fragments of the past. A few anxieties about the future…..shall we dive deeper?

Let’s go.

# The new year began with an active chase for a job which finally worked

# I continued to engage with the last employers but these latest interactions with the local office were also a darn shit show and I finally figured people are the same world over and got over the awe I was in with that company!

# I do owe my current job in part to some fine people from that last job and I am thankful for it

# I visited Sicily which was heavenly for the sun it gave my eyes and my body when I was beginning to die of London’s endless winter, for the brilliant food it offered in veggie form, and for the bloody brilliant time those three days were!

# I also visited Amsterdam and experienced its canals, space cakes, tulips, windmills and the different air even if the city was busier than I had imagined or would have liked

# C trained for and ran a half marathon in record time. I went and cheered at Wembley stadium. I experienced the easy feeling of pride and I also experienced the much harder feeling of inspiration and motivation

# Nine months later I finally acted on that inspiration (still in part) and signed up for a run myself – a 10k to begin with. I hope and pray I can prepare for it in a good way

# We didn’t make a trip we wanted to because it involved trekking for 16 kms through a gorge and C didn’t want to have me risk going for it unprepared. We have now booked that trip for May of 2017.

# I consumed a lot of sugar and have a worrisome extra five kilos on me

# I tested for diabetes, thought one of my biscuits was my last sugary treat, but the test was negative and I continue on

# Pragya visited a couple of times and we managed to add an interesting layer to the friendship

# I witnessed completely juvenile Whatsapp politics and wished maturity for some people

# I travelled a bit too much for work, but then I also earned the bronze tier on British Airways because of it. An early check in and avoiding queues is a good enough benefit for now.

# We went to Gran Canaria for our first anniversary and I cannot begin to describe what the sun there did for my body and mind. Whatever it did for our relationship was incidental. Maybe I will someday log that travel, but for now, know that it is a gorgeous place, it stays warm throughout the year, Brits love it, and I totally know why!

# Got involved in a high profile work event with the biggest global CEOs. It was a tiring but interesting experience that involved lunching on a fancy boat on the Thames and dinners at the Globe and Cutty Sark

# Mom and dad moved homes in Delhi and with that I partially lost a home in my home city. The one I got married from was home for 19 years

# Some more friends had babies and I will soon stop telling my mother about these developments just as I had stopped telling her of people’s weddings a few years ago

# I celebrated a very colourful Holi at work

# And I had some awkward conversations about India’s independence with a few British colleagues

# There were a few weddings in the UK – an Indian-German one, an Indian-British one and a Indian-Polish one. I loved how personalised the experience was for guests.

# I also attended a Hungarian wedding in Budapest and amusingly was one of the few ‘foreigners’ who were treated special by the hosts and their families. This also included a high energy series of dances with the groom’s 70-year-old father

# In Budapest, we rode on a tram route (over)rated on the list of top 10 scenic rides in the world. That said, Budapest is a gorgeous and lovely city!

# And then there were weddings I missed

# I was mandated to join a session of improv comedy. I was so worried that my lack of spontaneity will let me down that I had a couple of drinks before going in for it. But it turned out to be one of the fun-est things I have ever done!

# I also went for a murder mystery game and did quite poorly at it

# There was recognition at work – of my successes and weaknesses alike, with a lot of help to address the weaknesses

# I kept the tradition of going to the ER (twice) and experienced first-hand the mess that the UK’s healthcare is!

# There were several house parties – some fun, some random

# Diwali was in London

# I turned 30. I am still not comfortable saying this number out loud, but lately I have been thinking of the many experiences of the past 10-15 years that I feel it has been a memorable enough journey to this number and I should embrace it warmly

# Tried again with Avan’s help to complete my wedding video. Hopefully I will get it before the end of the year

# I had this dream for my 30th birthday. I never learned how to ride a bike because I was busy hopping countries. So I thought of going for a trek in snowy mountains for the birthday instead. I have anyway been longing to go back to the mountains for a while now. But snow in Europe in September is hard to reach. A trip in remote Switzerland would have been ideal, but I was frustrated and upset with how logistically hard and expensive it was turning out to be! And I clearly never did it.

# Instead, Chetak kindly helped plan Snowdonia as a funny ‘snow’ trek even though there would not have been any snow then. That trek didn’t happen either because the weather wasn’t on our side. And being in the countryside meant no phone network and therefore hardly any phone calls and wishes. If you haven’t figured yet, I am still bummed about all the things that did not work out even though it was a lovely trip in itself.

# I did get a nice surprise party for the birthday which made up for all that wasn’t.

# We also went dancing and experienced mundeyan to bach ke rahi on the dance floor during the Notting Hill carnival

# A separate trip to the city of bells, Brugge was one of the biggest highlights of the year. The place was musical, scenic, quiet and very refreshing! These away-from-the-city breaks are hard to match.

# C gifted me a watch with my initials on it

# Watched Vir Das live in London

# Watched Zakir Hussain live again

# Visited a remote Swedish town for work and ticked off the bucket list item of seeing windmills in water

# C got his UK driving license and we went for our first road trip with dear boys in a red Jeep :D

# I made an effort to connect with people from past life in the current city and balance my being in this foreign land beyond C and his friends

# An important relationship finally came up for air after nearly two years. It will never be the same again but I am glad the negativity is behind us.

# In my true retrospective, reflecting self, I kept sharing Facebook ‘memories’ with friends. It doesn’t help that I and many of them are spread out across the world.

# Demonitisation happened

# Samsung gave new life to my phone with a complete overhaul over the summer

# Bought a new Canon

# I was gifted a tablet to read but I failed to read

# I started using a credit card. I know I said I started doing it when I moved to Abu Dhabi, but I now use it for 20p transactions as well. I still think it is stupid to buy on credit and then pay a bill at the end of the month when you can buy directly with a debit card. But things you do for points, offers and miles!

# This one comes low in this list just so I could reflect hard and remember the finer details of the year – we bought a flat of our own!

# We bought 200 kilos worth of furniture from Ikea and I discovered I enjoy DIY.

# C and I had a similar amount’s worth of arguments as well

# I told C that we will go easy with setting up the new home, enjoying the process instead of making a burden of it. Instead, I single-mindedly spent several evenings either buying stuff for home or just unpacking, setting up, hammering nails, et al. I could still go back and spend a dedicated week on it. We are, after all, still a few months away from completing the set-up.

# Close friends helped a great deal with the packing, moving and settling in

# Leaving my first house in the city was nothing short of an end of an era

# A fortnight still to go and I figure this has become a very long read

Tada!

2016-12-01T13:51:00.003+00:00

Homey?

2016-10-26T17:02:00.000+01:00

I feel an unexplainable pain every time I think about how little I think or reflect these days, ie, write. That’s what my time with Fuchsia used to be about. I feel this pain every time I read something that has emotion. I no longer know what it takes to write a complete story – even if it is a rant about the most inconsequential, inane matter. I have lost count of the number of ‘posts’ that I have started with good intent and steam but never finished. I have constantly held various things responsible for it (in my head) – a consuming day job, a mix of desired and unwanted social action, the luring (to the feeling of writing) idea of being on a plane for extended periods of time but feeling so awfully tired when actually mid-air that I’d not even have the energy to type, attempts at saving truly free time for C, Skype calls with family and friends in other time zones, cooking because I have time, watching TV because I’ve earned a lazy couch hour (or two), and the list goes on.

That alphabet blogging challenge, which was a great thought-starter, also failed. Gah.

Coming to the latest – the festive season and my *feelings*. Starting with Karva Chauth, which I have observed for two years now. It is probably one of the biggest ironic paradox in my life but I do indulge in it. And it goes alright until I observe or get into a debate with someone from back home. There is so much vitriolic point-proving that it is almost hard to bear. I won’t go into the details here again but suffices to say that it kills the spirit that makes me participate in the process. It’s obviously not about C’s long life.

And then there is Diwali. Five days to go. Delhi must be going mad. It is my first Diwali away. I always made it a point to be back for it but didn’t even make an attempt this year. Last year, the first one away from my parents’ home was a different, complex and unusual experience. It wasn’t what I grew up with. This year will obviously be different as well. In an empty house. I’ll come to the details of that later. There will be no rangoli. Possibly no kaju barfi or gulab jamuns either – not because we can’t find them in London but simply because it’s not practical and we don’t need to consciously add sugar to our dessert-heavy days. When did I ever become so awfully practical!

I told someone yesterday that I have been in denial that Diwali is around the corner because it’s not with family.

Time and life are getting spent and I am not documenting any of it. Most of the undocumented times have been good and I wish I was better at doing something about it. But I guess that’s what such times bring with them – that feeling of being free and happy; without a care in the world, including the painstaking documentation.

More later, hopefully.

Paris Je Taime

2016-08-25T10:42:00.000+01:00

The UK’s August bank holiday always falls between C’s and my birthdays, giving us reason to do something interesting every year. For the 2015 one, we planned Paris. It was the first trip C and I made together after our wedding. There were two primary reasons for doing that – C really liked the city (after his two previous trip there) and France was a relatively easier embassy when it came to granting the Schengen visa. This was before the attacks last November.

I was not particularly fascinated by the fascinating Paris and agreed to go if C managed the visa process. I had obviously not recovered from the mammoth UK visa process from early in the year.

And so he did everything – visas, Eurostar tickets, Airbnb, and the works. I took on two responsibilities – planning an evening to watch cabaret and a day out in the Champagne area. The first one wasn’t bad. Moulin Rouge was very clearly an expensive deal. And they know they are expensive, so they recommend another cabaret in the Moulin Rouge Group, called La Nouvelle Eve on the same website. It is more affordable and I conveniently booked a table for the both of us.

Read on to know more about Champagne.

We arrived in Paris on the night of Friday, August 28th. The city was quite filthy. My I’m-in-Europe-for-the-first-time eyes were surprised. But Paris is known for it. Next step: finding young English-speaking kids employed by the transport authority to help tourists navigate the train system. It was a bit sad, but I was happy that at least they had some kind of a job.

St. Pancras, London

Because C thinks I'm like those in the background

I had a disappointing goat cheese wrap at McDonald’s for dinner and we retired at our beautiful Airbnb for the night.

The next day was dedicated to Reims to see the wonderful, romantic world of Champagne. We took a high speed TGV train which got us to Reims within two hours. The moment we reached there I realised I had made a huge blunder. Reims is a small town with various champagne brands having their original war-time cellars located in the area. For a real, green tour through vineyards (what I had in mind), you need to be able to drive a few miles into the countryside from Reims. C hated what I had done. I hated what I had done. We’d spent a significant amount of money on those trains. But we swallowed the stupid emotions and started walking. It was a hot day. I really didn’t want to walk. On the side I was still trying to check on my phone if there was a way to get to a vineyard somehow. But it wasn’t going to be. We landed at Taittinger’s champagne house and decided that we should, at the very least, take a tour of their cave cellars. That didn’t disappoint. We bought a couple of bottles for friends, tasted some of our own, and came out a couple of hours later wondering again what to do in that place.

We managed first class tickets on our TGV

Various available bottle sizes

Clearly, this happens everywhere!

We whiled away some more time, took a late afternoon train back to Paris, went home to change and get set for our evening in Monmartre for the cabaret.

Reims remains, and will remain, a sore point in our relationship for times to come.

The cabaret venue, La Nouvelle Eve initially looked a bit sketchy, especially the entrance to the halls, but I was comfortable soon after. C wasn’t. Unbelievably, he enjoyed the filler acts more than the actual show. I thought that the beginning was slow and bumpy, but it only got better with time and the closing was superb. It’s a shame photography wasn’t allowed, but I guess it’s good so people can actually enjoy being there.

One did have to visit and click this picture!

The next day of our trip was dedicated to typical, touristy Parisian things. Notre dame, the Louvre, the Seine, crepes, Champs Elysees and the Eiffel Tower. The day was scorching hot at nearly 35 degrees. I hated it that C was making me walk. I felt like shite and behaved like shite too. There was nothing romantic about the trip and we couldn’t believe we were upset with each other on this first, supposedly fancy trip. Of course, it didn’t help that I couldn’t find decent vegetarian food anywhere. Yes, I could have punched someone in the face and come back to London if I could!

But I clicked a few pictures and took breaks every 30 minutes like an old woman.

And then arrived the evening. My head and my nerves calmed. I could finally begin to see the romanticised side of the city. We decided it was a good time to buy my birthday dress (ala the annual tradition of wearing something new on the birthday). C picked a dress I never would have, but I tried it and loved it. Unsurprisingly, the mood improved.

Clicking photos of Arc de Triomphe was fun. I was happy.

We then took a boat tour which was another one of the disappointments of the trip. It wasn’t an open top boat, the commentary was very dry, and there were way too many people around us. Now I was grumpy.

And then we finally went to the Eiffel Tower. Yes, we had actually saved it till our second night in the city. Don’t ask why. I was over the moon at the sight of the glittering tower. I distinctly remember being excited like a child. The shimmering lights at every hour added a 100 times to my excitement. I think I almost danced. I definitely jumped. It was also a full moon night (or maybe a day short) and the moon sat symmetrically by the tower. I changed lenses on my camera. I had ice cream. I kissed C. I did everything one does when they see the Eiffel Tower for the first time. I didn’t care to go to the top. I just didn’t want to give up the view of the Tower! So I walked back and forth, left and right, just to make sure I didn’t miss the best views of it. We later lay by the river, with the Eiffel towering over us, until all the shops shut down and it was time to take a late train home.

On our final day in the city, as we typically do, we took it easy. We strolled in any direction we liked. We focused on getting some good food. I did want to see the Statue of Liberty, so we went in its direction. The weather had either improved or I had begun to get used to it but I was definitely more comfortable. I got a drink or two. We got a dessert or three. I chanced upon the Wall of Love. I refused to do a steep walk and C made his peace with it. We were okay.

A rather awful font for train station names

For the love of breads!

We reached Gare du Nord and figured something was wrong. Trains were delayed. There was no sign of our train. But we had cleared immigration and there was no way of turning back. We sat. We waited. We learned it was because refugees had blocked the tracks in Calais. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. The number of people piling up at the station platforms was increasing with every train that wasn’t showing up for its return. We were almost certain we won’t be able to get back when suddenly there was an announcement. The last few trains of the night were being combined to go back to London and we had a chance there after over four hours of wait. We returned without further delay and Eurostar offered to compensate us by giving us a set of free tickets for a similar journey in the coming months. We were certainly not going back to Paris. Belgium, maybe.

It took nearly a year before we did. Details to follow.

Catching up

2016-08-25T09:57:00.003+01:00

I have had no inspiration or mind space to write in several months now. My blog has been at the back of my mind, but that is all that it has been. If there is one thing that I feel rather bad about, it is the memories of various trips taken in the past year that I’m letting fade.

The past few months have been extraordinarily busy with work and social obligations and that has finally taken its toll. I’ve been home, sick for over a week now. And so today I hope to write a bit and clear some pending words out.

E is for Enormous*

2016-05-15T19:26:00.001+01:00

City. Social circle. Cake sizes. Cultural differences. Physical distance. Cold (yes, I know it doesn’t fit). Trains. Job hunt. Grocery stores. Price tags. Extended family. History. Envy. Waist.

*for the lack of a creative thought

C is for Chalk Board

2016-05-15T19:12:00.003+01:00

We I am a confused romantic. Or let’s say I like being ‘classy’ with my romantic initiatives. Yes, the clumsy me. I would never go for a heart-shaped photo frame, card, souvenir, or anything else. But I am likely to use html hearts rather freely. I don’t know when that happened, because I remember being a prude about virtual hearts too, but what’s done is done. I even have a photo with a massive heart-shaped balloon from my pre-wedding party. So I don’t even know who I try to fool with this notion but I do try.

Coming to the point: soon after I moved to London we discussed having a board outside our home which isn’t the standard door name plate but something we could change as we liked. We didn’t do anything about it until we walked past the neighbourhood Waitrose’s garden section with a chalkboard. We loved the idea! But it was a heart-shaped board and there was no way I was going to let it become a part of my identity. In the following weeks I sighed every time I passed by that Waitrose, just wishing somebody understood that there should be another option. And then there was one! Just before his birthday last year.

We don’t have it outdoors, but we have been pretty wild with our ‘art’ ever since we go it. From love notes (yes, they fall in my ‘classy’ category) to countdowns to travel destinations – we use it to express just about everything. Take a look:

Bday countdown

Marathon wishes

Much improved skills

This has it all - the sun, swimming, sun decks, umbrella, drinks, palm trees