Mumbai has come in my blog a number of times... I have written about my feelings and experiences here, and god knows how much I love the city... How I consider Mumbai to be my second home... The city which gave me my identity, my friends, my husband and the four most wonderful years of my life.

Then yesterday morning I woke up with a call from a friend... Someone who knew about my ties with the city... She asked me to look... And I saw... I saw a bunch of men mutilating my city... Killing my people... burning my buildings... I watched and watched in horror as flames blew out of the Taj.... Grenades exploding in Oberoi and gunshots pierced through VT, Leopold, Colaba... I sat helpless trying to understand what is going on...

Since then we all have been waiting for this nightmare to end... And as the time passed by, we came across horror stories shared by friends and families who lost a part of them, who are being held hostage for the last 35 hours...

I have been crying... I cant explain the pain I feel right now... Yes I was lucky that my friends having dinner at Colaba escaped, my cousin at VT left just in time.... My other family and friends never went to south bombay on wednesday. But so many others were not so lucky. My city was not so lucky. And I want to know why... Yesterday I saw a man saying he wants to wait and watch the deadbodies of the terrorists coming out of Taj... Because they have dared to touch Mumbai... And I feel the same way. I heard one of the men have been captured. All I could think was that if I had a gun I would have blown his head off right there...

I dont want to know who these people were. I dont want to know where they came from and what is it that they wanted out of this. All I want to know is that what is it that drove these men to walk in on innocent people and shoot at them. If this was a religious retaliation, they could not have avoided killing their own men. If it was for revenge, who are they seeking it from? I keep hearing all this was well planned... Ofcourse it was... Otherwise how could they kill four top police officers in a matter of one night? They knew who their target was. They knew who kill and where to kill. And they did...

They are saying this is the worst terrorist attack India has seen. It was the worst one for America on 9/11. It would be worst for some other country some other day... And I want to know for how long... If you really want to rule the world, why not drop a few nuclear bombs on us? Finish us all and then you can rule... That ways you will save a lot of time... Why do you keep coming into my home and hurting us one by one? How long do you think the fear factor will work?

Weight pain

Ten years back, I weighed 42kgs. Five years back I was 54kgs. Today I am 69kgs. For those who have known me all these years, I am sure it is a shocker.... Trust me, the growing waistband, fuller face and hips have left me quite surprised as well... I started with denial, moved to arrogance, irritability, downright heartache and finally resignation.... When I meet my friends from school or college, they all, usually as politely as possible, mention that I have gained a lot of weight... And I do the head bob routine in answer...

Does it bother me that I no longer fit into my favourite clothes? Does it bother me to see other people around me looking trim and fit, sporting trendy attires while I struggle with my ever expanding tummy? Honestly, it still does. But perhaps not as much as it used to be... And this is huge... Why? Well, it happens to be the essence of my weight loss regime...

I have read a thousand articles, sat through talk shows on TV, spoken to friends, doctors, and god knows who else. Of course, each one had their own take on the topic of weight loss... I was recommended diets, strict exercise routines, pills, and a whole gamete of advice as to "what really works"....

I followed some, chucked the others, but with minimal success. I often ended up feeling extremely unhappy because I would have failed to follow the diet (rice, potatoes and sweets happen to be staple diet). It was only after I got married that my husband pointed out that I have started obsessing about losing weight, and growing progressively unhappy in life. So this is what he had to offer: Don't be hyper about your weight. You should be careful about being fit, thats all.... Don't stop yourself from eating things you like.... And there is absolutely no need to spend boring hours in a gym, feeling terrible about yourself. We all need physical exercise... So do you like doing... Go play a game you like once a week... or swim... or walk.... Don't be too hard on yourself...

And guess what...That actually worked :) I have been swimming, and I feel good... The flabs are still there, but I don't care... I can see I am getting fitter.... I do a lot more laps in the pool now... And I tire less frequently... I feel good about myself... And I have actually started to lose weight!!!!

So here's the bottom line... All those who are getting worked up about weight loss or gain... Just drop it... Obsess about being healthy, not slimmer or fuller.... Eat what you like, do what you like... But just feel happy... Because at the end of the day, that is all that matters... Your body is not for experimentation.... Your body is for you to enjoy... So be good to it darlings...

Freestyle

I fell in love with swimming as a child... I was about 10 or 12 when my parents took my brother and me to a swimming club nearby, and that is how it all started. I have very fond memories of jumping into the pool, splashing all over, playing with the other kids, and before long I was actually swimming by myself in the 20 ft deep lake next door....

Over the years I have tried to swim whenever I could. Of course, it never really happened on a regular basis, till I landed up in Bangalore and found this really cute pool nearby. I have tried swimming regularly ever since, till day before, when someone came and spoilt it all.

I had just come out of the shower and was walking towards the pool when I heard a mother telling her son to pay attention to the instructor. Normally, I would not have cared, but this was someone speaking my mother tongue, which is not that common in this part of the country... I would have still ignored her, but she had taken over a side of the pool, screaming constantly at her son, trying to make sure he is his lesson seriously. I also heard her telling the instructor that he needs to scold the boy... Otherwise he wont listen....

After about fifteen minutes of non-stop instructions, the mother finally decided to get down to action herself. She got into the pool, caught her son, and tried to teach him herself. The kid, about 5-6 years old, is more interested in playing with the other kids in the pool, who were having a good time playing with a ball on the kiddie-side of the pool after their lesson. While the son kept pleading the mother to let him play, she kept pushing him to demonstrate his skills to her. She was determined to correct all his flaws in the next ten minutes.

This struggle went on for the next half an hour... The mother-son duo took over a side of the pool (much to the inconvenience of the other swimmers). Since most of their dialogue continued in my mother tongue, I had no option but to hear it all... (In my defense, its just a 25 mts. long pool. How far could I have gone?) The son was required to swim back and forth, with the mother following. She kept telling him he was not doing it right. And the poor child kept trying. Every few minutes he will ask if he could play for a bit. The mother continued to criticize his skills, telling him "You are not doing it right". While he is trying, the mother kept instructing him...
" Head down, roll your hands, blow bubbles... etc etc"

The son got bored in a while, and tried to get away as many times as he could. In the end it started getting ugly, when the mother, after trying cajoling, scolding, fear of punishment in vain was about to hit the child. Thankfully, she finally gave up, and decided to concentrate on her own swimming, and that is when I realized what the problem was. Our lady here has no idea how to swim... She needs help, ASAP!!! I guess the pool lost quite a bit of water thanks to all the thrashing....

Thanks to this show of 'good parenting', by this time I had lost all interest and pleasure of swimming, and decided to get out of there. But I couldn't take that kid and the mother out of my head.... I am no expert in child raring, but what I saw didn't seem right. It just broke my heart.... Why are parents hell bent on turning their failures into their child's success? How can they turn a pleasurable activity into a boring and unpleasant experience for a child? Have they forgotten how their own childhood used to be? I don't think this child will ever like swimming they way I liked it... Simply because I was left to my own devices... My mother was not standing on my head making sure I 'perform'. Unfortunately, 'performance' appears to be THE buzz word of the century.... Everybody wants to make their child some sort of a talented genius. My friend's 3 year old toddler is required to speak in English in kindergarten... I heard of another parent who is planning to send her 5 year old for piano lessons and horse-back riding.... Another one is sending her 2 year old to school right away.... I honestly don't understand this.... I always thought children had the freedom to do things they want to.... Looks like we are all set to turn them into responsible adults the day they are born....

Global Chilling

After living in this city for almost four years, I, like many others, faced the rather unpleasant surprise of experiencing a chilly Mumbai. The city is actually cold these days, with the wind piercing through my bones when I am travelling or walking through an open space. I believe the temperatures have gone down up to 11 degrees over the last one month... And it’s not been a single day phenomenon.... And its not only Mumbai... A number of cities (except poor Chennai I guess) have been a victim of this untimely cold waves...

This has been a rather depressing time for all the Mumbaikars. The city has not only turned cold for us, a few people are actually threatening the existance of the large population of migrants... I could not help but wonder, if Mumbai today was cleaned of all the outsiders (bengalies, norh indians, south indian, sikhs... every non-marathi that is), what would happen. For one thing, the city would be much less crowded. But will the cabs and the autos run? Will we get roadside chats, kebabs, sandwiches and Chinese food? Who will do your domestic work? Who will do the construction work? Who will clean the buildings? Who will sell the thousands of essential items around the corner?

Why is this city becoming such a cold cold place? What is with this growing intolerance and hostility towards fellow human beings? Why do I have to feel unwelcome in some part of my own country? And why should some fellow countrymen be mistreated because they look different or speak a different language? Are we really justified in insisting that in order to file a police complaint I need to be able to speak the local language? Is it essential that the public transport have destinations and numbers written in the local language? How will changing the names of cities help in retaining their ‘identities’? Why are we so insecure about our vernacular film industry that we take the drastic step of banning all other language movies in our theatres?

I do not have the answers for this. And something tells me that the propagators of this mass hatred and foolishness don’t have it either. I do believe that this problem too has a solution. And as always, it is in our hands only. The next time someone tries to bully me or someone aorund mebecause I am supposedly an 'outsider' to myown country, I have pledged not to take it lying down. Such an act requires fervent protest from any sane mind. And I shall do my part.

Writing

Over the past couple of months, I have been toying with the idea of initiating some serious creative writing... As a kid, I used to often write what is called 'chhoda' in bengali... Small rhymes I guess is the best way to describe that... The closest I have ever come to writing a prose has always been the essays that we had to write for homework. I used to always chose the more 'personal' topic... Could never rely on my general knowledge to pull of an informative one you see. I guess I also once tried to write a crime novel for kids when I was 10... That one never saw the light of day after about five pages...

So now I have started feeling the need to write some prose again... May be a little story... Just to see if I have the capability of building a plot, building charecters and dialogues and narratives around it, and turn into a pleasent read.... One of the reasons I started writing this blog was also that... I wanted to figure out the nature of my writing... And of course, much to my dismay, I realised that is quite erratic, just like myself....

I was having a chat with someone who had recently started the serious writing practice for herself. She was telling me how she things blogs are not perhaps the best way to explore one's ability to write meaningful/creative/imaginative prose... While she sited a number of examples where bloggers have moved to become authors, she also mentioned that the quality of their work has not necessarily translated into something beyond ordinary. She said that most of the times we end up restraining ourselves while writing on the public domain, thus stiffling the creativity itch that would have prompted us to write in the beginning. And then it struck me... This is perhaps the best explanation of my never-ending writer's block... I have complained to myself and on this domain a million times that not only do I often face the block when I try writing here, I also often feel that the content is lousy... I have felt that the end product of my attempt has been of rather poor quality, poor sontent, and ofcourse, quite borning. There are times when I look at some entries and cringe... God knows what i was thinking when I wrote them...

It is not possible for a lot of us to pour our hearts out to strangers. It is a ctually a scary thought that my darkest thoughts are being published in a webpage... Easily accessible by anybody and everybody... So I guess I will revert back to my old habit of maintaining my journal... Like I read somewhere, there is already enough crap in the literary world, dont add more to it... So I have decided to keep my crap to myself...

Cullinery Delights

Food makes me happy…. Food is my anti-depressant, my means of celebration, my eternal support. I live to eat… I can’t ever get enough when it comes to food… I am not ashamed of admitting my addiction to food. I believe one can only enjoy food when it has pleased all your senses. Well its actually common sense… You can never resist food that looks delicious, with an aroma that turns you on, which melts in your mouth and tastes like the best thing you have ever had….

My craving for food changes with my mood… Coffee and pakora on a rainy day, mashed potatoes and roasted chicken to boost up my morals, creamy chocolate cakes to celebrate, or simple daal chawal for comfort.

Incidentally, I also enjoy cooking. I learnt to cook completely by the use of common sense and memory. Growing up, I had watched my mother cook everyday. And when I myself started cooking, I found myself doing what she does. Of course, I am not as good as her… Not yet… But like my husband often remarks, I am unbelievably confident about my cooking. You will always hear me saying, oh I make great pulav, or chicken, or mutton, or garlic bread and pasta … So you can imagine the unpleasant surprise I had to bear not once but repeatedly when I goofed up again and again while trying to cook for my in-laws. Yes, it also creates performance anxiety for me.

I guess comparing cooking to performing arts is quite cliché… But that’s how I have always found the exercise of cooking to be… A piece of art brought together painstakingly… It requires tremendous patience, an eye for details, and the courage to walk off the beaten path… What can be more inspiring than creating art which is also edible?

When it comes to cooking, I enjoy the entire process immensely. I have often used it to relax at the end of an exceptional tiring day, or as a source of utmost pleasure in an unbelievably dull time … I find it fascinating as I witness completely unrelated things being concocted into a tasty meal in a matter of a few minutes or hours…. The sight of chicken curry shimmering on the stove, the smell of ghee in peas pulav, the feel of fish fillets as I marinate them for frying… The entire process, right from gathering the ingredients, preparing them, watching over the pot while they blend, fretting over the concoction till the time it is served, is ritualistic for me. And once served, the aroma of spices, the sheer sight of colours starts creating havoc in my brain…. And its time to let loose… And finally, when I have served it, watching my blissful audience lick their fingers gives me that high… yes, nothing pleases me more than to serve or to be served with some mouth watering cuisine on a platter…

Gibberish

I started my day with this hopelessly happy feeling... I was feeling very warm inside... Happy... content.... and generally in a mood I would like to find myself in everyday.... I hardly noticed the horrible traffic and sung my way to work....

Work, however, has become awfully boring these days.... I have been having a rather hard time to concentrate for more than a few moments... leave alone being productive.... Have not demonstrated an iota of productivity over the last couple of weeks I guess.... Ridiculous I say :( Infact it is so annoying that I want to flush it out of my system... This boredom is killing me... And I have stopped asking myself the question whether this is what I want to do in life... Well I dont...ofcourse... And its a pity that the ppl are sooo nice here.... This had been the best work environment that I have experienced so far....

But I am ready to get the hell out of here... I am ready to go to the next 'new' place and start the 'new' life.... And that is how I have proved yet again i have severe attention deficiency syndrome... Will this ever leave me... Kinda hard to not be yourself, right?

Things bore me so easily that these days I am scared of starting anything new... I think I need a proper break from mundane things... I mean jobs.... I wont get paid at the end of the month... And that is a concern... But I really want to do something else... Like really really different.... I told my husband I want to write a book... He thought I was joking :( I told my mom I want to just stay home and be the model 'home-maker'... She laughed... So if anyone has any idea abt some fun stuff that they want to do, pls share with me... God's blessing shall be showered on you........

Memoires of an almost perfect honeymoon: Chapter One

Lost and found: Kuala Lumpur

No matter how much I love travelling, I always get a panic attack whenever I am travelling somewhere. I always catch myself checking the umpteenth time whether I have booked the right tickets, whether I have the necessary paperwork, whether I have switched off the geyser and the gas, whether I have locked all the doors, whether I am carrying all the necessary items and enough clothes… The list continues.

Ofcourse, all this planning never ensures a 100% success rate. Infact, I often find that I plan and plan and plan, but never plan enough time to actually execute all of it. Result: chaos and more panic.
This time too, I was quite nervous about every small thing that I could think of. But apart from forgetting to switch off the lights at home, I don’t think there were much goof-ups that happened. We reached the airport on time, only to find out that our airlines counter hasn’t even opened. We got good seats, changed our money, declared the valuables at customs and got onto the flight. A rather friendly crew greeted us and ensured that our journey was comfortable. I, however, being the fidgety self, hated the length of the journey… It was just five hours, but it seemed a lifetime before we finally landed at Kuala Lumpur.

It was perhaps the biggest airport I have ever seen. While my husband was happily soaking in the excitement and funfair at the airport, I started getting panicky again, this time about finding our way to the baggage claim and immigration. As a result, I never managed to enjoy the airo-train ride to the other terminus, or the festive decorations that adorned the airport.

Immigration turned out to be a smooth affair, and we moved on for baggage claim. We had already heard about taking KLIA express into the city, so I hurriedly bought the tickets… By then the conveyer belt had started spewing the bags…. And much to my disappointment, one of our bags was missing. We waited and waited and waited for the bag to come, and finally my surprisingly calm husband went ahead to speak to the airport crew. We were directed to the Lost and Found Department, where some very cordial officials came to our aid. The place was very comfortable, and people came in and went out with their luggage. I waited for a miracle, where someone would bring out the bag and say hey, we were just kidding… Here you go…

Ofcourse, miracles don’t happen… They took down our details, the bag’s description, and gave us a receipt. They also informed us that most likely another passenger would have taken our bag by mistake. They would try to track the person, ask him to return the bag, and deliver the same to us at our hotel.

My heart broke… This was supposed to be my perfect honeymoon… And look what happened!!!! My husband, ofcourse, continued to remain absolutely calm. The bag had his clothes… And he kept joking that this is his opportunity to redo his wardrobe…

On our way to the hotel in that awesome train, I continued to remain glum, while he tried to show me the brighter side of the situation… If you ask me, the brighter side is that I married him… had there been someone as emotional as me, we would have both been crying our way into the city…

Upon reaching the hotel, we narrated the saga to the receptionist, trying to explain to him that the airport authorities would be delivering our bag. And he says, “One of our guests brought in a wrong bag from the airport. Let me call them and check. May be its yours” You can imagine how my excitement rose as soon as he spoke… We both started at the elevator till the time it opened and two men walked out, pulling behind… Behold… OUR FREAKING BAG!!!!

I don’t remember dancing, but I do remember the stupid grin on my face… I completely forgot to scream at the man for being stupid enough to take our bag which had our name on the tag… I was so excited that I almost pushed my hubby to go to the airport with them and bring the bag back… (The rule is that if you take someone else’s bag, you need to return it to take back your own). My sane husband obviously realized what a bad idea that was, given the fact that it was late in the night and the airport was so far away… However, he did manage to send the bag-lifters back to the airport….

The very next day, the airport authorities delivered our bag at the hotel… It was a public holiday, but I believe that’s how responsible they are… Quodos to the airport authorities in Malaysia…..

Choices

Are you someone who lives your life on your own terms? Or atleast you think you do? Have you ever thought how that really works? Living life in your own accord I mean... I have been observing something for a while now, and I have realised, much to my discomfort and dismay, that most of us live our lives based on decisions that are hardly our own... How many times have you heard or seen women who have been very sharp/smart girls in college... Who had the ambition of a successful corporate career... You know she will rise very quickly up the ladder the minute she joins a job. She gets married, and has to leave her job because it became impossible to run the house while she managed a full-time job. Her family thought since her husband is doing so well she need not bother earning. She should pursue higher causes... such as starting the family, to which she reluctantly agreed. Result? That smartest girl from class is very busy running a full household with the baby and the husband. Her career goals, very predictably, have gone into oblivion... How many of you have known woman who get married and get pregnant immediately. Usually the common reason turns out to be that the family members believe that its for the best. A lot of these women end up having to quit their jobs because it becomes too much for them to handle... New family, new relationships, plus the responsibility of a fragile life. It is not that these people are unhappy. It is not that they are having to do things completely against their will. If you see them, you will know they are definitely happy... Its just that they realised where the expectations lay, and adapted themselves accordingly. We all do that... At home, at work, in our relationships... But after seeing an overwhelming number of women around me continuously doing this, I started to wonder. Do men have to adapt as much as women do? I know of men who have given up their jobs and stayed home looking after baby since their wives wanted to work. Or of men who have moved cities because the wife got a transfer/new job. But these examples are few and far between... I am not a feminist. The reason I am saying it out aloud is because I wish to explain my stand. I am an egalitarian. I believe in equality. And in my interpretation, feminism falls a little ahead of that in the spectrum. Anyways, the point is that these instances have disturbed me to a great extent. Now I know you are thinking 'how naive'... Yes, I admit that it may be naive to suddenly wake up and see this. But atleast I acknowledge seeing it... I am amazed by the skewed distribution when it comes to adjustments that are made by a woman compared to a man, especially within the definition of marriage. Somewhere the identity of a woman gets entangled with the man's, gets diluted and eventually vanishes.... And the scary thought is that the whole adjustment part is done so naturally that often the person concerned doesn't even stop to think again... Its imbibed in our value systems... In our up-bringing... I dont think it is wrong to take care of those around you. I dont think its wrong to prioritise your family over your career... I just think its wrong for people to expect you will do it. I think its wrong for people to assume that its your duty to have babies and not aspire for something that you care for... And I have a HUGE problem with those who immediately judge for saying you want to live your life according to your free will. Because what they fail to understand is that anything that is forced upon someone is bound to fail... And they also fail to respect the person's judgement call for important choices that they need to make....

As the clock strikes two

As the clock strikes two every afternoon, my world comes to a standstill... I would be staring into the computer screen, or sitting in a meeting... And then, just like cinderalla, I tranform into sleeping beauty from dancing queen....

Slowly, my brain goes numb, my eyes become watery, and one giant yawn follows the other.... No matter what I am doing, sleep always manages to find its way into my head... I can feel the heaviness in the head and in my eyes... I try to stay up... I try to fight this feeling... But it always comes back with full force... My eyelids slowly and heavily head towards the downfall....

I find myself wishing for a soft bed, a softer pillow to hug, and a rug to cover myself... I dream of falling into a deep sleep.... Peaceful... happy sleep...

But ofcourse, as soon I doze into this happy thought, I jerk back to reality... Stealing glances at my co-workers... Hoping no one noticed me dozing off in my chair.... And by default, the boss-man would be passing by my cubicle right at that momnet. As if, he knew he could catch me red-handed....

Life oh life

Apologies for the prolonged silence. But I have reasons for the same, as usual. As life continues to be a roller-costar ride, I had finally let go. And I have to admit, I have been enjoying it thoroughly…
So where should I start? I guess the last week was my life in full blast… I lost my job Tuesday morning, much to my unpleasant surprise (I always wanted to quit on Monday morning, and this of course was a complete anti-climax). Thankfully, the job was not something I was actually enjoying, so it was what my mother would have described as a ‘blessing in disguise’…

After brooding over the unexpected unemployed status for a day, I decided that all this was an indicator from the Higher Power that I was meant to do something more meaningful. So I should spend time thinking about my future, exploring my options, and basically take it easy for the next few days. Of course all this pragmatism came only and only because of those around me…. I was amazed, touched and thrilled at the sheer support I got from everybody…. Especially my friends in this city… And I realized, once again, that I am a rather lucky idiot to have landed up with such beautiful souls around me…

Anyways, the very next day another guardian angel landed up at my doorstep with an offer I found hard to believe. Yes, you guessed it… He had a job offer… Something very different in terms of my employment context and history… But an offer nonetheless… Of doing something productive for a change… I was thrilled once again… And decided to take it up….

Boy am I glad about that decision… I have started travelling to a different part of the city… A very unique piece that the city has to offer… I was truly taken by surprise when I found myself driven into the locality. I walked into this nice big building that had a plush look. The elevators here are huge and very fast, showing time and date to those who care to look up. I couldn’t help remembering the elevator in my last job. It barely held two people, with the third person having to squeeze in hoping his/her butt doesn’t get squished by the gates. And then there a vigilant security guard who thought those working in that building did not have the right to step into the elevator. So he would always chase you out of the vicinity.

As I walked into the office, I couldn’t resist a smile. It looked like a real office!!!! Now you must be wondering why on earth am I going ga-ga over a stupid office space. But trust me, after having worked out of apartments for the most part of my life, this was a much welcome change.

So almost a week now I have been working in a ‘real’ corporate office. And surprisingly, I realized I do seem to have some skill sets which are compatible with the ‘for-profit’ sector. Now comes the biggest question… Am I willing to give up what I always knew I was meant to do? Am I ready to tread a different path where my heart does not lie? Honestly, the answer is no… All this wonders of the corporate world is perhaps the best indicator for me… I need to back where I belong… This is not my place… Not here, not now…. Not ever….

Diamonds…. the global status symbol….. always for the rich and the famous. The ‘rare’ stone has had a big fan following over the years. And now, they seem to have found a way into our lives too…

Every other day you will find a new company launching a range of diamond jewellery at ‘affordable’ prices, accompanied with the tacky one-liners that say how it is the only way to express your true emotions for your lady love. And of course there are a number of elegant female celebrities endorsing the diamonds and the beautiful, royal, chic design, saying to you how diamonds are a girl’s best friend.

To tell you the truth, I myself was pretty fond of the lovely stone… I thought that the man who loves me should be able to give me a diamond ring… Come on, I mean, don’t I deserve it? Isn’t it amazing to show someone the ring and say “Here, I got engaged!!!”

The other day I was chatting with a friend, and she was talking about her personal experiences in the diamond mine zones of South Africa. She was mentioning that since the prices of diamond are fixed in the global market, one of the ways that the companies earn profit is by keeping the wage rates to the bare minimum. She also mentioned that the single reason for the increased prevalence of HIV/AIDS in this region could be accounted to the growing migrant labour population who worked at these mines.

So here’s my question to myself… how important is this piece of stone in my life? They say a diamond is forever. Yes, they are… Just like my books, my music, my favourite friend, my family and my love for the one person I wish to spend my entire life with… Aren’t diamonds the commonest stone that I see almost every other person wearing? How important is it for me to own that one huge stone? Does the size of the stone really portray how much that person loves me? Isn’t love priceless, or is it comparable to the price of a stone which came out tainted with the blood and sweat of a fellow human being….

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

I should be working but I am bored
I should be saving but I am broke
I should be cleaning but I am tired
I should be loving but I am lost...

I am confusion personified!!!!

When I was jobless, I couldnt wait to get into a job. Now that I have a job that not only promises regular pay but also decent work, I find myself bored to death... I am very angry with someone I love, but I feel like calling up and apologising, just so that we can start talking again... All my friends are going on this trip I have dreamed of for years now, and I am not going... Right now I want to go home and crash. But I know for sure the minute I step out of work I would want to go do something 'fun' instead... GOD help me!!!!

I have been feeling miserable ever since I have realized I haven’t written anything substantial in ages :( And it’s all because of my eternal laziness. So today I have chosen to attack this highly flawed logic of mine and write again…

Recently I went back to some place I have been avoiding for years now. And on my way I kept wondering if there is any prescription for dealing with your fears, breaking your comfort zones. You know, the painful things made easy kind of stuff… And I realized, perhaps for the umpteenth time, that there can never be an easy way out… If it’s too easy, it is definitely not solving the problem… It’s like those sauna belts which claim to reduce inches from your tummy while you take a nap… If it was that easy, half the world would have been wearing them all the time… They wouldn’t have been doing 100 crunches in a gym, in front of perfectly toned up trainers who look at your bulging tummy with great contempt…

The thing is, in the end, you have to stand up and face the reality… If you are fat, and you don’t like it, you have got to run. If you are scared of being alone in the night, you need to stop lighting that bulb and try to ask yourself whether a ghost can actually kill you. After all, not everyday you hear about ghost murderers, right? Better still, go to a therapist…

I, ofcourse, have all these issues. And ofcourse, I have always tried to take the easy way out… But with passing years, I have realized that it doesn’t really help. Perhaps that is why I forced myself to make that trip. And I was amazed at how simple it really was… No one tore me into pieces, nothing was remotely unpleasant. If anything, I guess we did manage to bridge a gap with little effort. I guess sometimes we completely underestimate fellow human beings… Or we get so entangled into our own emotional drama, that we don’t recognize the simplicity of the matter…

So point of the story? Simple again… Get out of your comfort zone… You will be a whole new person… And you will love yourself a lot more :)

Updates

Have been wanting to write for a while now. Had all the time in life a month back when I was jobless. But that is the time when I am my laziest best :D Also, I was facing the infamous 'writer's block', which made things more difficult.

However, this boring Friday afternoon has finally managed to break that spell, so here I go:

New things in my life:

1. Quitting my old job :)
2. Moving to Mumbai :)
3. Staying in Bandra :) as a PG :(
4. Starting the new job :) in Bandra only :) :)
5. Finding reference to my blog in some random website. This is how they describe it: "This is a Personal blog written by Piyashree and its about Jodhpur fort,People,Life,Summer and more." (Ha ha ha ho ho ho hee hee hee)

I guess thats a lot of new things for just a couple of months... But I can always do with some more :)

I met this little boy in the Jodhpur fort. He performs with his father in one of the fort alleys through the day. He seems to have been trained well, because he would dance with the tune whenever there are tourists around. He would be dancing, and even singing along when he pleases... But he wont be distracted by the attention he is getting from those around him.

This child showed no interest in the curious tourists who kept clicking him... At the end of the performance he would go to them and ask for money. We offered him a chocolate. He took it, went to his father and dropped it at his feet. He came back to us and said "paise?"

Its perhaps not the first time when you would have seen a performance like this. It is one of the commonest sights in this country. Its just that the apparent lack of any child-like traits in this child that disturbed me a lot....

Yes, my life has come to a full circle... Yesterday I found myself walking around Hill road, navigating through the dug-up patches. And the sense of deja-vu was so strong that for a moment I thought I have travelled back in time.

About 3 yrs ago, I had landed in Mumbai in search of a new begining. I was extremely excited at the prospect of living in this city once more... The city which had given me the mixed taste of freedom, power and responsibilities.

I have always loved this city, especially the spirit of Mumbai... I have always found great friends here, unexpected kindness from people, and a lot of warmth... Lets hope this time around the city lives up to its promises again...

So the countdown has begun. I am all set to wrap up my life into my suitcases, a backpack and a couple of cartons and get out of this city. Its funny how easy a task that seems, given the fact that I have done this about a thousands times in the past. But is it that easy to wrap up your experiences in neat little bundles? And even if it is, how many of those bundles should you really carry around?

"Balance"

"Reflections"

Photograph Courtsey: Mr. Inamdar