My Life & Other Stories

विवेचन

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Wed, 06 Apr 2022 02:31:00 +0000

बहु जैसी कोई सुखी नहीं ,

बेटी जैसी कोई दुखी नहीं .

बेटा जैसा राम नहीं ,

दामाद जैसा श्रवण नहीं .

मां जैसी भली नहीं ,

सास जैसी छली नहीं .

भाभी जैसी तनी नहीं ,

नन्द से बनी नहीं .

देवर जैसा शकुनी नहीं ,

भाई जैसा कृष्ण नहीं .

पिता जैसा दशरथ नहीं ,

श्वसुर जैसा धृतराष्ट्र नहीं .

संतान जैसा कर्जा नहीं ,

और जीवन से बड़ी सजा़ नहीं ।।

---अनन्या

Ten things to remember

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Sun, 09 Jun 2013 13:35:00 +0000

1.       This is your own battle. Fight it with grace. YOU CAN DO IT.
2.       Don’t expect anything from anyone. No one will help you. No one ever did, except a few. Remember those people and be there for them
3.       Don’t let things and people bother you. Always remember that you have a long way to go; these little distractions are meant to pull you down. You do just what you are meant to do.
4.       WORK is your first priority. Everything else comes after that. ALWAYS remember that.
5.       Everything is achievable, including the impossible deemed by others. You have done it in the past, you can do it now.
6.       Be in touch with your inner self. Don’t rely on outside world for help and support. Everything is within you and you are not alone! Not even for a moment. The great power of energy that is there, remember it often and take cues from it.
7.       There are people and situations that are worse than what you have. Remember that always, and be thankful for what you have. Very soon you will be glad you did that.
8.       Sometime from now, all this will be so easy that you will be smiling doing all of that.
9.       Don’t fret over little things. What is bound to happen will happen. You can’t prevent it!
No matter what happens STAY COOL

Jara nach ke dikha!

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 14:58:00 +0000

So what is dance by the way!! Wikipedia defines it as a form of expression, social interaction and as a form of non verbal communication between humans.

In common parlance it would be an expression of Joy or Fun, because you see so many people dancing in parties, dancing in marriage ceremonies, or dancing just like that.

I am ok with people expressing their joys physically like that. What bothers me is when people start pushing other people (people like me ) to do IT. While I am not against dance, I am not so much of a dance person really. I would rather do a Nawab Wajid Ali Shah and watch people dance , than exert myself. Also because I am very lazy, so for me the concept of joy or happiness lies in reading a good book, listening to good music or just talking to good friends or may be trekking/going out somewhere. That brings me more fun and joy than shaking a leg.

And I had always been like that. The numerous ragging sessions at several colleges and innumerable parties could not help me change my ways. And whenever I tried ( I have everything left, including two left feet and two left arms !) it would be so clumsy, that in all that mayhem, for the risk of not injuring anyone, I thought it would be in the best interest of everyone that I leave the floor.

But life has its own derisive ways. So I married a guy who is passionate about dancing, and not only that, the entire khandan (family) has to break into song and dance routine at every party, function, etc. So nightmare of all nightmares….I was expected to do the same.

Over time my husband gave up on me, and I was secretly very happy about it :)…. But people never change. So they insisted and insisted even more. And I got away every time, except when my brother got married, or at a recent family wedding, where there was no escape, really!

While weddings and baraats are still fine (there is nothing better to do to burn the calories from all the good food), I still cannot bring myself to the floor when the party is rather a birthday or some celebration. I still prefer the verbal communication form better.

A lot of times, there are people who understand my situation and they don’t force. They become my favorite instantly :). But more often I keep running into people for whom not dancing with them is an offence of magnanimous proportions. I understand their passion to dance; what I don’t understand is their insistence that everybody present should dance.

Does joy multiply in that case?

Excellent music

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 01:39:00 +0000

A must must watch (hear) : here

End of Hiatus - for now

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 03:01:00 +0000

Have been meaning to write for quite some time now.
Updates are too many and now that i have started to document it, at least the list portrays that I have been really busy. The highlights of the months gone by have been:

December 2009: Quit Job, Visited Relatives, and WE (me and him) were SOBER on new year’s (I know!)...probably that is why this year is turning out to be the driest of all... 

January 2010: Defended my thesis successfully, Got a promise of a job offer (if there is anything like that), thieves broke into my house but the loss was minimal.

February 2010: Brother’s marriage, followed by my surgery

March 2010: Recovery from surgery; trip to home and back; And the highlight was the convocation at Bangalore. I am officially a doctor now.

April 2010: Lost 2 kgs after working out for more than 2 hours a day for 30 days, after which I gave up on all weight loss efforts.

May 2010: A 10 day trip to NYC which got converted into a month long holiday

June 2010: Spent at parent’s place. The best phase so far.

July 2010: Family wedding and trip to Jaipur and back;
Sold off my first bought car;
Packed and Moved from Delhi to Karnal;
Unpacked in Karnal, arranged and rearraged the house at Karnal,
Moved to NJ.

August 2010: For the first half made hotel my home, moved to a friend’s place and now arranging that house; learning how to drive without clutch pedals, and the dilemma of left and right precedence (not to mention that I keep forgetting that wiper is where the indicator lights should have been and vice versa).

September is when we are getting our apartment. So for the next two months, I intend to arrange the house , buy furniture, rearrange again, and so on and so forth.

Since I quit my job, people have been asking me what do I do and how do I manage to spend time, given that my husband travels a lot. Honestly killing time was never a problem for me .
And I never ever get bored. I do find something or the other to do, to read, and if nothing else is there I cook. Its as simple as that.

For now I intend to write more, and read more. So the blog would be updated regularly if not daily. I have also been meaning to start a hindi blog, for the love of language. So would be doing that as well.

Working with IDIOTS

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 04:15:00 +0000

Location update: Lucknow, capital of my home state. (Work related travel)

I had thought earlier that I would never ever write about the people I work with/for. But of late Work related stress due to working with IDIOTS has been mounting up to such a great deal, that writing about it will have some therapeutic effect to some extent (I hope). Resigning from the job is the permanent solution to cure it, and needless to say I am evaluating certain options, but for certain reasons I need to stick around and continue working with people whom I can’t stand. And I am not grinning and bearing it....far from it.

I have worked with a lot of people whom I couldn’t stand earlier as well, and I didn’t have any problems because there was certain professionalism to the manner in which work was done. The problem comes when people you work with, are thorough UN-professionals. When simple courtesy is forgotten, when work at hand becomes secondary to prevailing politics, when you have fibbing colleagues, who are such compulsive liars, who despite being confronted will build on mountains of lies just to prove their point, and when you have incompetent idiots who don’t even want to learn!

How am I dealing with it? Writing about it  and maintaining a lot of distance from such people. If one can’t learn their ways, the best way is to keep far from such people.

Roommates and such

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 12:10:00 +0000

10 years of hostel life comes with its own set of doings, wrong doings, learnings, un-learnings and unforgettable memories, of great friends and sworn enemies.
I look back at all these years and I am quite amazed at the number of friends I have made, though not surprised at the number of enemies /or people I would not even want to know they exist [sic], I have ran into. Enemies are easier to be found than good friends. And if a friend still cares to enquire about your health and well being, after you haven’t called her/him in ages, then that friend has to be cherished truly.

This is about two very different girls who were my roommate at different points in time and shared very important part of my life. I met G on a hot summer day of June in 1997 in Allahabad, and K, in 2001 in BIT Mesra, sometime in November-December.

Interestingly when I met them, I was living alone in a shared room (actually it looks like a déjà-vu now). I am usually a friendly person, but tend to put my guards on only when someone has been very nasty. Immediately before I met these girls, I have had some very B*T*H kind of people around me, and hence my guards were intact. Needless to say, I was rude, direct, and not the usual self.
I don’t know what prompted them to stay with me (I would never know). I can only hope it was something more than the issue of unavailability of rooms other than mine. Over the year and half I spent with G and approximately an year with K , our relationship blossomed. With both these fabulous girls, I rediscovered friendship and learnt to trust people. We laughed, cried, ate, sang and danced, shared secrets, advised, and had lot of fun together. Those were indeed the unforgettable days, which I have spent with G and K respectively.

After coming to Bangalore, I got out of touch with these gals within couple of years (lost mobile story). It is a long story of how we came in touch again. But we did, and I learnt that just as I was eager to reconnect with them, and tried getting in touch with someone-who-might-have-her –number, to googling the name, and school details in sheer anticipation that google/orkut/facebook might link us up again; they also tried as much.

I cringe at times when I think of how terse and rude I had been to them initially for no fault of theirs, while they defined the meaning of friendship for me, and they still do. I feel like a mean person and I wish I could say sorry. I try but cannot bring myself to it, and I don’t know why.

I do thank God for blessing me with such people. I don’t even know if I deserve them, but I certainly know that I cherish them.

Justice OR the Lack of it?

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 10:58:00 +0000

Some time backthis was in one of the news section (blink-and-miss) One more proof of how easy it is for wealthy and influential people to commit a heinous crime and get away with it. Clean chit to Business man charged of murder and child abuse has been given by none other than CBI, who, last heard, could not solve this case because it was bungled up

A quick search on the internet reveals that Pandher had well established political links.

Justice is pricey and ~~difficult~~ impossible to get for common man.
It takes excruciating long time and is denied most of the times.Though it might work well for some people who want to be tried in India.

Isn't the time we rewrote the preamble to the constitution of India? (coming up in the next post)

Of Fire Alarms and Maids

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 19:54:00 +0000

On my penultimate day of this US trip, I decided to make dosas for breakfast. Normally I would have made oats, or poured milk over cereals, but this was out of extra love for DH who is going to be alone here for next 2 months, since I am leaving this weekend.
So long story short, dosa batter was lousy (the dosa batter that the Indian store @ Chicago stocked was way inferior to what we used to get in desi stores in Dallas). After couple of sticky, broken to bits dosas, I finally made a round thick one – similar to set dosa. After I sat down to eat, and had barely finished one, while browsing the net, the fire alarm went off. I had forgotten to switch off the hot plate!! The greasy pan was smoldering; the kitchen chimney fan was still working but couldn’t suck the smoke out. I turned it off, opened the windows and contemplated about the futility of desi cooking in American kitchen.

Another day at a friend’s house, I was heating (Note: not making!) frozen Nans and Parathas, and had forgotten to switch on the chimney. Within minutes, the alarm went off. He later told us that the same thing had happened when his parents had come visiting. This guy goes to office and his mom decides to make parathas for breakfast, oblivious to the instrument of fire alarm. As expected the alarm went off, and the guy was telephoned. He instructed on phone to switch it off. Later (since desi cooking can’t be without fire and smoke), this guy wrapped the fire alarm in layers of cling wrap!! The cooking resumed without any hassle, however maintenance guys on discovering the ‘preserved’ fire alarm, did sent across a notice of fine.

I am glad that for the next couple of months I can cook without worrying about smoke and fire alarms, and that I don’t even have to cook and clean back home. I am back to India....where maids/household helps are so quintessential!! They say living is easier/better in developed countries. I vehemently disagree to that. Living is so much more convenient in India. Everything gets done on phone..grocery, plumbing, milk, vegetables, and heck! even currency exchange and routine blood tests. There is a home delivery/service for every single thing that you can think of, and every work (except your job, of course) can be outsourced. Cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, you name it ; you get it done! Even your religious obligations are outsourced, I have learnt!

The only trouble I have is of traffic and driving on pot holed roads. But that is not so tough baby!

Life after marrying an MBA

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 16:35:00 +0000

1. Everything in your life will be planned, note everything. Starting from how should you be spending your holidays/weekends to your life post retirement. All contingency will be taken into account and scenarios would be carefully thought of and accounted for.

2. Every expense (past and future) will be in some excel file. There will be a trend analysis of past expenses to group the heads where you can optimize (read: cut your budget). Future expenses like loan payment will be analyzed in at least 10 different cases with different rates of inflation and growth rate of salary.

3. Every purchase you do will be carefully examined to see if one is receiving the true value out of it. Market research will be promptly done (with full reviews) and finally when the right deal is there, Bang! You definitely get what you needed, though it might take a while. But remember, RIGHT Deal...that is the key word here.

4. All travel would be in a true tourist style, sneakers, caps and maps in place. You do have to utilize your time, you can’t waste it by lying holed up in your hotel room reading....

5. The air travel will be planned such that the mile summary reads higher figures, so that when the spouse has to travel, you simply convert the miles and buy tickets. Learn to ECONOMISE people!!

6. All talk you will have with your spouse will be peppered with top-line, bottom-line, Scenario-planning, Budgeting, Pro-active, tactical, ideate, and not to forget STRATEGIC!!

7. If you happen to invest in some life insurance scheme or some mutual fund scheme, be prepared to see the sales guy/s get hassled by your spouse’s deft use of MS excel to show him that the product that the sales guy is selling is much inferior to that of the rival’s.

8. Also (in continuation with point no 7) be prepared to see a lot of sales people for that one product which you had seen on TV and wanted to invest in.

9. TV viewing would be limited to business news, and your spouse mood would fluctuate with the stock market. Learn to be sympathetic when stock market falls, even if it does not concern you.

10. Last and most important is MULTITASKING. You will get used to your spouse answering the calls, making you a drink, writing a mail, and using sign language to communicate all within the same span of time!

All this will continue even if you try explaining and instilling the notion that however thorough we may plan, life is unpredictable. Learnings of a B school gets ingrained deeper.

So you can Kick your DIL legally!

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 16:34:00 +0000

Someone posted this on facebook. This seems horrifying and suggests that some amount of violence is permissible by law (sec 498 A IPC).
However, given that lots of cases are not genuine (yes I have witnessed instances where the bride's family harassed the groom's family), this makes sense to some extent (like divorce threat), but any amount/degree of physical torture is not acceptable, even if it is kicking.

Come to think of it, while the judges have ruled that they wanted to account for bona fide cases, and hence the kicking (by MILs, relatives of husband) have to be termed as within the "boundary of law". How is someone going to ascertain that the kicking was merely shoving with legs and not a powerful thrust of legs in the stomach/ groin/ chest or even face!

People can misuse this as well. It can be interpreted as:

Use your legs to beat your DIL black and blue since its only "kicking" and its legal!

A short Update

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 23:08:00 +0000

Been busy lately...
Too many things are happening...
Location update: Dallas
Status update: Glad to be with husband dear for 3 months straight :). (This is the longest time span that we have spent together in the last 2 years)

And he is still traveling too much here. One month and two trips to LA, and one to Chicago. I am getting his miles converted and tagging along wherever I can :) ( I can't hide my glee :D )

I promise to write more.

Latest Update

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Tue, 17 Feb 2009 06:35:00 +0000

Reached India on friday night...flight was comfortable. I bought two history books from Dubai, one on Bahadur Shah Zafar, and the other on Genghis Khan. So I spent the flight time, reading the one on Bahdur Shah by William Darlymple. Its a marvelously written book. The earlier works of WD have fascinated me, and I am hooked to his style of writing. I wish I could write like that.

The weekend was very hectic with preparation going on in full swing for a family function. Work wise, I am facing lot of time crunch. And presently too much is happening in my life. Its true when they say that one life is not enough.

There are certain things I had decided I would start this year. More writing, more yoga, and definitely more reading. I have been trying to do little bit of everything, but need to put in more effort.

And I also need to clean my house of clutter.

Promoting the Pink Chaddi!

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 05:18:00 +0000

Ohh how I wish I was in India to donate some pink chaddis.
I am loving this campaign.
And I am strongly lobbying for this.

check out THIS

I would post more when I get back to Delhi this weekend.

On why SLUMDAWG has made it and why TZP hasn’t…..

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Fri, 23 Jan 2009 04:34:00 +0000

Now a huge hue and cry has been made about the issue that how unfortunate it was for a great and realistic movie like TZP to be turned down for nominations at the Oscars, and how an unrealistic movie like SDM, goes on to grab golden globes, and how the nomination for Oscars for SDM have followed.
Indians are unhappy because their ‘poverty, filth and wretchedness is hungrily gobbled up by the westerners’, while people in the west print media have called SDM a ‘poverty porn’.

There are many reasons to the SDM winning accolade everywhere.

A child’s inability to read and write properly might be a trouble of magnanimous proportion for an Indian middle class family, but not for people living in developed world, where education isn't the only passport to better off living standards. And hence TZP isn’t really that great, as we have made that out to be. On the other hand SDM has struck the right chord because that’s precisely what the western audience wants to watch.

First SDM is made by a Gorra man, who is competent as well, and it’s a common knowledge that rigging happens everywhere. And for Oscars too such allegations have been made it the past. So this deserves the benefit of doubt.

Second, people from the developed world love to see filth and poverty and people living in appalling conditions. This makes them feel better off. A very common psychological trait! The award winning novels (numerous), films/biographies (born into brothels), photographs (Pulitzer 1994-Kevin Carter; vulture waiting for the starving kid to die), have always been the ones that have brought out the shame of civilized society. And India is a fertile ground for all of these. Largest democracy population wise, top ranked in poverty, health hazards, corruption, malnutrition, crime, and yet with a strong economic growth – that is what we are about. It’s the same country where you can finds contradictions everywhere, from smooth highways of Punjab & Haryana, where female feticide is a flourishing practice, to crater holed roads of Bangalore, cause of the infamous word ‘Bangalored’ – (agony for hundreds of workers in first world countries who lost their jobs to English speaking Indian youth). The educated don’t vote, the uneducated vote anyone, depending on who provides them rice/money/alcohol. We have growing population of criminal politicians, politicians who can’t speak their own names properly (leave alone writing), amongst many other breeds. Where else can you find 70 year old people with both legs in grave, procreating? Where else can you see the glorified temples of khajuraho of erotic art, and the strange denial of existence of sexual needs in the same society? Where else can you see a space mission to moon and educated people getting married to trees/dogs/rock to avoid marital discord?

Third it portrays more reality than the fiction portrayed by TZP. No doubt TZP is great movie, and specially the screenplay, including the song “Ma..”, is rendered so beautifully that it greatly moves the audience.
This is a wrong concept of movie. A movie is not supposed to move you, it is supposed to entertain. TZP doesn’t entertain. It leaves the audience with a sense of guilt, a sense of shame, and a strong sense of nostalgia for most of us who have been directly or indirectly related with the concept of under-performance in school and the associated social humiliation by teachers, parents, family, friends, and so on and so forth. I have gone through this humiliation, and can recall vividly how one of my cousins was going through the same problem of dyslexia in his early school life, and no one in the family had any clue about it. He later quit studies to join his family business.
I can also recall many from my school, and childhood friends who had similar difficulties and who were branded as duffers by teachers, relatives and parents too. But all of these and I am sure many more children who suffered had no ‘Amir Khan’ to save their lives of shame, fear, and failure. They never had any hero, as they show in TZP. No doubt the movie did a great job in making people aware, and hopefully people would be now be more sympathetic with their under-performing kids; but the movie remains a great piece of fiction which doesn’t entertain. It strains.

On the contrary SDM (I haven’t seen the movie, so can’t really compare); supposedly shows a fictional story of a guy who lives in slums, who goes on to win millions on a game show. That is fiction of course, but what remains fact is the portrayal of the story in an entertaining manner, which pleases the audience, and not makes them feel guilty. That’s what Amir didn’t do. So, to make a good movie which is set in a not yet developed country, you ought to show the context vividly, however dirty, illogical, and unrelated that might be. That’s what Boyle did.

Of voracious reading and a summer story!

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 08:03:00 +0000

When I was a kid, reading was my life. I would read all the time during waking hours, everything but course books, so much so that my father got worried that I might not clear my 10th board exams, and had sold off every scrap of readable item ( all newspapers, magazines, anything and everything that had black printed alphabets) back then. How it happened was like this....

My mom was a teacher in the school I studied in. Apart from other woes that I faced because of her occupation, she literally had full control on my life. :( She knew everyone with whom I was interacting. Not that it left little for pre teen fancies and indulgence, (of which I had very little of left considering the controlled environment I was brought up in); the biggest blow was that after my eight standard I was not allowed to step in the school library. My parents had this random thought that if my erratic reading habits weren't controlled, they would be witnessing the first ever high school dropout in the family of doctorates (blah, blah, blah!!!). So my mom had confided this fear with the librarian, and the school principal, and hence I was not allowed to go to the school libraries to study irrelevant stuff. And since I could not go, I was not allowed to borrow books.
By that time , however I had read all the hardy boys, famous five series, agatha christie and the likes, and had just graduated to reading serious stuff in life. It was one of the defining moments in my life. For time pass one ought to do something. I was never an out performer, managed somehow to be in the first 15% of the class, and never felt bad about not being able to bag the first prize at competitions,never been the one whose name was announced at exemplary performance at parent's day, etc,etc. My world was happy, virtual and exciting. each day I would bring novels from the library, finish it , and then borrow the second one the next day. I even did multitasking, carrying the book with me to the loo,at other times within the folds of my course books, when sometimes I would pretend to be studying for exams, and on the dining table ( where I would often forget to eat while I was reading, and then a slap from mom, or a long tirade from my dad would force me to nibble ).:p

Even after restriction of my entry in the school library I had not stopped devouring novels and books. I would ask my friends to borrow books for me. I had to do all the reading activity very discreetly after my entry ban . I did not want my parents to know that I had a steady supply of books, so every day I would return from school, after lunch I would pretend to read my text books very seriously. I always study on the bed. So I would put my books open in front of me , read the novel while keeping my ears glued to the sound of footsteps towards my room , and on any sign of someone coming towards my room, I would immediately tuck away the story book down under the bed mattress. Initially it looked very cumbersome, but withing few days I had become adept at this art. My mom never checked on me while i was "busy" reading my course books, my bro would be out playing with friends, so it left only to my father to spy on me. And he literally used to spy. He would tiptoe down to my room every hour or so to check that I was really studying. Since I knew of his habit, the arrangement of tucking forbidden pleasures away at the right moment was working perfectly fine.
Then, one day, as all good things come to an end, this also did.

I was reading Heidi ( an awesome pre teen novel), and heard in time the footsteps of my father approaching my room. I smartly tucked away that fat novel and pretended to read a page that described various compounds of nitrogen and oxygen.My father stood there for a second, looked at me, and then slid his hands and took out the novel from beneath the mattress, and walked away, without saying anything. I was dumbstruck. I was expecting a long lecture ( people whose parents, grandparents have been/ are in teaching profession would empathize), and he didn't say a word. I sat there, expecting my mom to come over , hit me with whatever she could lay her hands on, followed by long discussion between my parents (in which I would be made to sit through) about how I had been trying all these years to bring disgrace to the family by not concentrating on my studies , and how relatives and neighbors would react when they would hear about me flunking 10th standard, and then several days after that when I would be made to feel guilty about getting the story books smuggled from the library.

In fact none of this happened. he had a brief conversation with my mother, after which the next Sunday all printed stuff was sold to raddi (scrap). I went to school and a week was remaining for summer vacations to begin. I did not dare step in the library. Since no one at home said anything, I was all the more confused.
That was the first summer of my life where I had to do without storybooks. Addiction makes you do silly things, more soever if its of reading. After sometime I eventually turned to books ( yes course books), and by the end of summers most of my course for the year was through.
Needless to say I performed well, and then everyone was happy, relatives and friends and neighbors didn't sing praises, but to put explicitly wouldn't digest that I had fared so well.
Its not as if I was not relishing this new found joy, but I was sad also. This success had a very heavy price to pay. Since then for almost 2 years till I moved out of my home, my parents didn't buy any magazine, novel, or a book apart from what was related to my course.

That summer did bring about a lot of change in me.I was transformed from a voracious reader to a person who reads for TP. I still read, but the passion is lost to mundane activities, like taking care of the household, doing my thesis work, and worrying about the nitty gritties of life. Now I read when I have time to idle away, in a journey may be or when I have nothing else to do :|.

PS: I still don't have a single clue on how my father knew of that secret hiding place.

Warm Winter Wish

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 07:44:00 +0000

There is nothing like a hot cup of masala chai with aromas of ginger, tulsi (basil family) and ilaichi (cardamom) emanating from the tea pot, permeating the cozy environs, while you sit outside in the warm sun with a book in your hand. It’s Blissful.

I am making full use of my work-from-home facility these days and enjoying winter season of north India to its fullest. Now it’s been more than 5 years that I have spent my winters like this. In Bangalore, there weren’t any winters, to laze around in sun. So when we shifted to Noida last year, the apartments were those pigeon-hole apartments where you don’t get enough space even for the laundry-line. And winters last year were a torture to me (of whatever little time I was there in Noida), after being acclimatized to Bangalore’s climate. But this year, after shifting to South Delhi, and being fortunate enough to get a house, which has independent terraces, which make sure there is sun throughout the day in my house, winter season has been warm so far .

So I get my laptop, bean bag, a table, power chord and soak in the sun as long as I want to. My only wish is to replace the laptop with a book, but unfortunately I can’t do that. After all I am working from home….

And this luxury is short lived too. I came back from Dubai a week back, and next week I am traveling again. I am hoping that winter is still there when I come back.

Gai humari mata hai

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 06:58:00 +0000

Yes this is an essay (yet another) on a beaten-to-death topic, ironically bringing out the issue of being ‘beaten-bombed-grenaded-shot-to-death’

When are we going to even learn? How many death tolls (and how much more frequent terror attacks) will it take for us to realize that each one of us is responsible for the present state of affairs. We are responsible for electing series of governments which has marshmallow policies on terror and focuses on divide and rule. And post each attack we take pride in the bovine divinity of forgetting and moving on. This is not moving on, this is being coward and being self centered. We don’t and can never believe in a unifying cause which doesn’t have regionalism or casteism as the driving force. Terrorism, what’s that?

Why do we get euphoric when US leaders in particular, publicly condemn the terror attacks on India? We often ignore the fact that the condemnation comes in very late when the victims are Indians. Almost in all the cases where US nationals, British nationals are affected, do their governments promptly issue statements. And we gloat over this, as if we still need some kind of reaffirmation from the world, for the damage that has been done by cross border terrorism.

Sometimes I wonder if it is the same country that had joined hands with the national leaders of pre independence era, in getting rid of the British rule. People sacrificed their lives, compromised with the luxuries, and unified against a common cause, which was surprisingly not based on caste, creed, religion. How come that spirit to free India which lasted for almost a 100 years died its natural death merely 50 odd years post liberation. Was it mob hysteria? Or does it take a generation for a society to forget and move on and become so indifferent to the cause which is affecting rich and poor, people of all religion equally. Do we need some iconic leader who would goad us into fighting this terror threat that looms large everywhere? Or are we waiting for one?

Even the wait would have been better, but can someone explain why do we get irritated at the long security check queues at public places. I have seen people being annoyed at poor hapless security personnel at shopping malls, when they are stooped by them for frisking bags. Why do we always take pleasure in avoiding the security drills, breaching the measures, and being impolite to the person who is doing his/her job of making sure the place is secure? Aren’t we the same ones who happily do all of this and more when we are abroad?

Why do we have a bovine attitude here in India? How much more will it take for us to realize that the crisis facing us is of huge proportions?

Identity Crisis

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 19:36:00 +0000

I belong to the hinterland where the two most populated, poor, backward, economically outcast, and grossly underdeveloped states of UP and Bihar meet. I have met enough and more people who are rather surprised when they know that I am from the land of Bhaiyyas/ Biharis. The first reaction I get is, “But you don’t look like that!”, or worse still, “How have you managed to come so far” which puts me in a defensive state. I am left to wonder what makes it so difficult for people residing in THAT part of the world to have a better career and better life. Sure opportunities were very limited and access to the outside world would be limited too, but it never stopped anyone from doing anything. In fact after coming to Bangalore, and interacting with people from every part of the country, I realized that I was better off than most people, in the way society was structured there. I had absolute freedom to do whatever I wanted, right from pursuing what career I wanted, to choosing the man I wanted to get married to. My parents had been a guiding force for me, till I became old enough to be responsible for my own decisions. There were no forced decisions. I committed some mistakes, realized the consequences over a period of time, and moved on.

Life in Bangalore seemed complicated, driven by a lot of stress in college and not knowing whom to trust. That was a period of immense confusion, uncertainty, with absolutely not a single friend to talk to. Things were tough, and I am happy that I made the right decisions during my stay there. I guess I would attribute this to my parents and the way I was brought up, to my teachers in school who taught me to be independent, to take responsibility for my actions, and to accept the consequences of whatever I had done without any remorse.

I would attribute a lot of my success to the people who were around me during my growing years. Not that I have been an overachiever in my life, but that I have done reasonably well, and I am quite pleased with the way my life has turned out to be. I have never been ashamed of the fact that I belong to a remote town of a remote state, and I actually am amused when I hear comments on the same. People sneer at times, are surprised and ask me absurd questions like, “Are u sure you are from UP, I think this place is in Bihar”; as if the consequences of incorrectly identification of states would cause either permanent shift in LOC or McMohan Line. How does that matter, is what I am left wondering with. Cities on the boundary of two states share nearly the same culture, food habits, and folk songs, so how does it matter if my home town is in Bihar or UP.

Similarly I am surprised when some people belonging to that part of the world, completely and vehemently dissociate themselves with any linkages that might suggest that they are from land of bhaiyyas. From altering their accents, to changing their food habits and customs, these people suffer from identity crisis. In my opinion a person who is ashamed of his/her roots can’t live in peace. I am not promoting the latest flick “Deshdrohi” here, but the fact that this is a typical Indian mentality. When such people, (belonging to any part of the country), go abroad, they are so mesmerized by the “Foreign” concept, that their long forgotten social servitude rises manifold. So right from avoiding desi people, they adapt to western food habits as if their annaprashan (first solid feed of new born baby) was done with burger and coke. I know a person who and whose mother proudly proclaims that they don’t eat “Hindustani Khana” in their house (which happens to be in US). They twitch their nose at people who do so, because it’s so appalling. How can you eat which is so smelly! I had simply smiled then, when I first heard this. I and my husband keep traveling abroad, and we simple can’t do without our daal, chawal, roti thing. We need to have that, if not daily, at least weekly, and we make sure we do that.
Some times these people even cross the lines, and dissociate themselves from their parents, because their parents have suddenly become too inane and too interfering. Being not satisfied with what life has given such people run after something which have not been theirs.

I guess that’s how most of us are, dissatisfied with ourselves, we strive for things that are not meant for us, or rather wouldn’t bring us the desired happiness. Most of us know that, and pretend to not know, and continue to strive…..

Weekend Notes

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 08:17:00 +0000

Spent the weekend with few friends who live in Abu Dhabi. They had come down to Dubai.

FRIDAY
Started the day with a lavish spread of breakfast, rounded up with a giant mug of cappuccino, a cheese brioche to accompany it, and lemon crust chocolate cake. This was just the post breakfast coffee. Couple of hours later, all of the us, the gang at Dubai, were feeling famished. The food court at the top of world’s biggest mall (Dubai Mall), was the recluse for us ravenously hungry souls.
Now lunch comprised of subs, wraps, coke all of which but the sub was pathetic.
Left with a bad taste in mouth, the girls wanted to try out the chocolate bar. After walking around for kilometers (remember this is world’s biggest mall), and asking the information desk at every juncture, we figured out that the chocolate bars were in the process of “opening-soon”. After desperately looking for chocolate, and finding only the marshmallow shops selling some tidbit was quite annoying. I was fantasizing about the chocolate fountains, mousse, cakes, pastries, dark, rich melting chocolate, chocolate fondue, hard chocolate, milk chocolate, mint chocolate, and what not.
So finally we located a coffee bar, which had some decent looking chocolate pastries.
The girls settled in for the chocolate mousse cake, and the guy chose black forest cake.

Now I don’t like black forest cake. It has very little chocolate, and cherry taste super cedes the chocolate taste. I guess I only like the chocolate curls that are used for garnishing the top. I like the bitter sweet taste of dark chocolate. The more bitter it is the better it tastes to me. But at this place, it was the best back forest pastry I had ever had. It melted in mouth, had a richer taste and the after taste wasn’t too sweet either. The look of the pastry was different too, with rich coffee like, and not the usual dark cocoa and ice vanilla combination. The chocolate mousse had to be sinfully good so much so that, the dear friend blurted out with her eyes closed in blissful state, savoring the melting cocoa in her moth, “No man is ever going to make us feel this good”. “Ummmm”, I reciprocated. The poor guy who is married to this friend simply looked on….nothing replaces chocolates for chocoholic girls 

After the choc-escapade, we wanted to do the Ice Rink. Now this Ice Rink is the biggest one to be put in a shopping mall (yeah you got it right, everything is BIG here). So this place is like Olympic sized, with audience seating as well. After standing there and waiting for our turn to go in and start the Zip-Slip-Thud process, we realized that we were underdressed. People already in had sweaters/ jackets on with gloves and caps. Most of them were European expats, and to us if they were this cold, we would soon become permanent ice hockey goaltender in there without our protective gear, and no woolen clothes. So we didn’t do it. We have planned it for the next weekend.

The next ting we did was to get lost in a toy store. I remembered my childhood days in India. We NEVER had any of toys, leave alone gadgets and all. I remember my aunt bringing me some toys and play sets from UK, whenever she would come in (which used to happen not so regularly). She got me my first Barbie when I had graduated to playing serious games in life ;). So all three adults were happy reliving the childhood fantasies. We played Wii tennis too, so we tried everything there. I was looking for some Wii sports CDs to gift it to husband dear who is sports fanatic. Spotted a FIFA 9, and am still looking for some better deals.

Next was supper, as it was too early for dinner. I didn’t have any, tasted some off the friends’ plates while they were having theirs. Post supper, more of mall exploration. We had been going around the entire place, and we still hadn’t covered most of it!

We decided to call it a day, and came back. The guys had already left. It was one of the most fabulous weekends in a long time. I got to spend some time with my girl-friend, doing window shopping, trying shades, looking at fabrics, jewellery, tasted some amazing food, chocolates. The perfect end to this was a good movie.

Looking forward to more weekends like this, while I am here.

life in ME - So far

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 09:47:00 +0000

So, I am in Dubai for some time now. That’s the latest update. I am here for some project which was supposed to start two weeks back but it’s getting delayed. I am doing nothing till then. Its kind of difficult to be doing nothing, but this is what I have to do till the project starts, hopefully by this Sunday. Now Sunday is a working day in Arab-land, and Friday and Saturday is off. It takes time to get adjusted to especially when you are interacting with junta on either side of the globe, for whom Sunday is a holiday.

The concept of weekend reminds me of another interesting episode here. Somewhere here in Dubai, I saw TGI Thursday, with the same logo as that of TGIF, and I thought, this is some major fraud company. A friend who was familiar to this part of the world reminded me that Thursday weekend here is what Friday weekend is for the rest of the world and hence TGIF is TGIT! Some other Dubai specific information which I have discovered so far is:

The Arab females here are rich platinum n huge diamond wearing females. And though some females are covered from head to toe, their sense of fashion is truly commendable.

This city is all BLING – BLING. So much so that the glaring lights and the reflections off the shiny mirror buildings give me a headache every evening I come back from office. Cities elsewhere are bling -bling too but I guess vegetation there absorbs the reflection. Here there is nothing to absorb the reflection. No trees, no vegetation.

Whatever greenery you see is on imported mud from other countries, and they need to replace this , because beneath this is sand. Almost all shrubs and patches of green that is maintained is lined with sprinklers. So most of the cities look dull and dry.

The beaches are nice with pristine white sand lining the blue sea. The sand has too many crushed shell covers, and different kinds of shells dot the beaches. I found 5 different kind of shells, during my 5 minute beach walk. Before the oil find, these guys had pearl harvesting as their source of income. I think you can even find pearls if you sift the beach sand. 

Cars are oomph….too many , too cool, and too stylish. The taxis are the Camrys, which are still a sought after premium car segment in India. I noticed many convertibles too, though the weather is not convertible friendly. Despite good roads, and good cars, which are auto transmission by the way, traffic remains a major problem.

People speak hindi, as 80-90% are people from India/Pakistan. So all the waiters, cabbies, office boys would be comfortable talking in Hindi rather than English. Mallus are too many, it’s their other homeland.

Food has been good so far. Many options exist and taste is good. It’s because of the purity of the spices here. The portion sizes are huge. People eat a lot and waste a lot.

Baskin Robbins doesn’t taste as good as it does in India. My suspicion is that they use camel’s milk here. The taste is rubbery.

Freshly made juice is must have. One needs to drink it to savor the taste.

Purity is not compromised here, be it spices or gold. So you know what to buy.

People are rich, but public transportation is pathetic. Only one legal service operates by the name of dubai taxi, and the demand far exceeds the supply. They are making the Metro system, and the backbone is ready. That should improve things.

As much hotter it is, lower the temperatures are inside the offices, buildings, houses and taxis. I carry a shawl with me at all times. The low temperature of air con puts me off really. Unless you ask for you won’t be served normal temperature water. So you get to freeze inside the buildings. They love sub zero temperature so much, that they have a man made ski slope made of real snow in one of the shopping malls. How about that!

Everything is Huge: tallest building, biggest shopping mall, largest man made island; biggest aquarium, and so on.

Oh yeah Orkut is banned, and so is all sites that provide VoIP services.
There are only two telecom operators, of which one has the monopoly, and services are expensive.

I am still exploring, and I shall keep posting more....

Mad, Mad Life…

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 10:27:00 +0000

I shall soon complete two months on my new job. Life has never been so full. I rarely get time to talk to my husband now. Both of us get back by 7:30/8:00 PM, and then its again office work/internet. The cook comes in half an hour later. Dinner is served soon after that, and then maybe while having dinner, and watching TV, we might exchange some words.
We talk over phone when we are in our respective offices. In fact we talk more then, as compared to when we are at home. I usually leave at 8 in the morning, he a little later. So mornings its rush time again, with the cook and servant appearing together, me telling then what to cook/clean, and then I start my getting-ready-for-office routine.

There are times which are easy. This happens when I work from home, which happens once in two weeks.

Then comes the weekend, which for working couples means sleep for long hours, do grocery shopping, get clothes ironed for the week, catch couple of movies, socialize with friends, visit some weekend getaways.

We don’t do that (except for may be grocery shopping, when it becomes really urgent). There is home delivery for most things, so going to a store and having the time to browse through all labels, brands, flavors, is actually a luxury for us. So we do miss on best price-product combo, pay more to our faithful Kirana shop, and be satisfied with whatever he offers, because we don’t have time.

So what do we do on weekends. No, we don’t sleep it off. I have become hugely sleep deprived after shifting to ‘posh’ South Delhi, because JAL BOARD of Delhi doesn’t let me sleep late in the mornings. I have to get up at 6:00 AM everyday, switch on the motor, ensure that overhead water tanks are full while the water supply is on for few hours in the morning.

To cut the long story of woes short, we are spending our weekends (whatever weekends we can spend together, since he travels 15 days in a month) buying furniture. Since we have been living out of suitcase since our marriage, we have thought of settling down a bit, and we have to buy furniture for people who might visit us. We do have plush living room and bedroom furniture. But we haven’t yet furnished our guestroom, which looks more like a railway platform with travel bags, suitcases, shoes, mattresses strewn-on-the-floor with printer-perched-on-top, besides a huge load of washed clothes-waiting to be folded neatly and put away in wardrobes (which never happens).

We have also been trying to get rid of the excess baggage that comes with sedentary lifestyle, so we invested in a swanky treadmill this week. We promised to ourselves that we would use it for 30 mins at least every day. I have not even touched it!

They say that money buys you everything. In my case it isn’t buying Time.

About to leave this place.........

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Fri, 30 May 2008 06:52:00 +0000

I have been associated with this campus for 5 years. That’s a long time for me to have stuck to a place after school. But as they say, PhD takes LOT of patience and perseverance. So here am I, ready to move out after 5 years of struggle, happiness, having made lifelong friends, and sworn enemies. I have become a little more mature than I was when I came in; there is a lot more change in my attitude, and the way I have learnt to deal with people.
I am not sad to leave this place or my friends either. I know that I will keep in touch with them, meet them. The intimacy might fade after some time, but this is what life is all about. I shall miss all of them, when I am there in Delhi, but one has to move on. And I prefer it this way.
I will miss the campus though, my room here; the lovely weather of Bangalore, and the regular walks around the campus, which would cool me down, every time I would be agitated, depressed, frustrated and angry at the world. I will miss my favorite place to sit, the bench opposite the football field. I will miss having breakfast outside the mess, under the tress. I will miss living in EB.
And I will definitely miss free internet and DC++ .
Life will change completely for me in a week from now. New place, office, and new colleagues in a city that is relatively new for me. I am excited about it, and I hope I do my best, to be the best.

Obituary-The Girl who loved Life!

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Fri, 23 May 2008 20:15:00 +0000

So what if the uncontrollable male libido has to satisfy his sexual needs with his colleague, so what if he is indulging in his fantasies of sleeping with more than one woman....the daughter be damned and murdered in cold blood if she is found to be doing the same……and people should name it as honor killing!!!!

What kind of honor? And whose honor are we talking about?

This is no honor killing, this is the most gruesome and heinous crime ever committed. A doctor slitting her own daughter’s throat with the utmost clinical precision, after banging her head against the wall, (and claiming that he did so because she was seen in an unobjectionable (but NOT “compromising”) position with her servant who is 45 years old), is not honor killing. The poor girl discovered her father escapades, strongly protested, and had to face his wrath. Didn’t his hand tremble? To make sure it didn’t the SOB had consumed whiskey. And what kind of mothers we have these days who let it all happen while being in the bedroom next door. And even if the girl were sleeping (though the postmortem report found no evidence of sexual act), on what moral grounds can the father take away his own daughter’s life, when he himself brings home other women to sleep with him? What kind of parents were they?
The 14 year old girl loved life, dance and music, was a regular teenager who also excelled in academics. She had enough and more friends to become close to than a household servant who was probably his father’s age. Even if she became ‘close’ (as claimed by the criminal father) to the servant on account of her father’s extramarital affair, the father should have taken precautions to prevent it further. If she were found guilty of something inappropriate, there were thousand and one ways of dealing it but the murder!
And the people call it honor killing. What kind of crooked mentality do we have? It’s all ok if man sleeps, but not ok for a woman to do so. Why are we pretending to be modern and educated when we still blindly abide by the “dark age” norms? Why is a woman still an object? Why can’t women like the murdered girl’s mom resist their husbands, when they know their husbands are doing wrong? What kind of mother was she to let her husband kill their own daughter? Was it all in the name of family honor?
To call it an honor killing is as heinous as the crime itself.

noreply@blogger.com (A Girl from Timbuktu) — Wed, 21 May 2008 05:12:00 +0000

I have to submit my thesis in 10 days from now. Not a right time to deviate my attention elsewhere, but still....the writing will at least take some worries away.
I really don't know if I am doing the right thing by joining corporate. Prior to Swiss conference I was all gung-ho on joining acads...one conference made me realize that grass was greener on the nonacademic front, and I got into the grueling process of applying for placements, sitting through numerous interviews, discovering certain abilities which I did not know were there in me, and finally took up an offer, which I was keen in. The job is good, scope is definitely good, ample chances of rising high, pay is sufficient, but still I am confused. I am not sure if I did the right thing of moving away from acads. The argument always is to go back to acads whenever I feel like...But I dont know what will happen. I might like my job, and never leave. But I might not, and the work hors are going to be like 10 hours at the minimum, plus loads of travel.
If I don't join acads now, I will lose on the numerous research opportunities, and then when I join it later, I will be lagging as many years behind in my career.
If I join acads, I will have the perfect work life balance, opportunity to do what I like the most, and have everything according to my wish, but for the pay.
If I join work, I will definitely get more exposure, but will have to sacrifice on the work life balance front.
Money is not an issue for me. The real challenge is to prioritize my needs, of which I really have no clue.
Shall think some more.......