Going Home to Come Home

Uprooting and Rerooting leaves one well............. rootless.

One stands in the middle of the new city that aims to become home, looking at the mass of people moving around, at people sipping coffee, at the easy conversation that seems to be there on most tables and knows that you are not “in” yet.

Yesterday, met two old friends who had come back to Bangalore after months of being away. Both are local Bangaloreans, kids who grew up into discerning adults in the evolving city.

For one it was the first time she came back -  ‘home’ post leaving. Only to realize that .. strangely now she referred to her new city as ‘home’.  Damm this was confusing. Why confusing? Because for the entire time that she was in the other nation – Bangalore was home. It was not where she lived but it was definitely what home was meant to be.

Hmm made me smile. Happens all the time doesn’t it.  For me home is Delhi. It will always be, the city that I will know better than any other, because I come from there,  know its pulse and have given myself the  self granted right to call myself a Delhite.

I live in Bangalore. Its home.  But in the limited sense of the ‘house’. It’s the home that for me means that my routine is here, I live here, but as I move around the city, despite the fact that by now with each place I have my own story and own history, at some level I feel a liitle it of a faker.

I know know.. at a deep level, that I don’t have the pulse of the city in me. That I don’t speak the language, that I in a gathering, everyone will know that I came here from somewhere else. Yet this is home.

A strange phenomena however is the need to come back to the original city, to fall in love with the adopted one with a far greater intensity.  Seen it happen a number of times.

-       Delhi person goes to London. Likes it but secretly knows its not India. Comes to Inida and misses London more than before

-       Someone goes to America,  and appreciates the chaos of home, the life it offers, comes to Pune, sets up home and misses America.

-       Am sure the list can go on and on

I love how the mind has an ability to magnify the parts we love and fade out the noises of things we wanna fade out.  Come home for a break, and these come whom bam slam into your face and then ouchies!! You remember why you wanted out in the first place. And hey wala. The new city looks like a place you want to head back to right this minute!!!!!!

Smarty pants me with all this insight and wisdom, no matter where I am going to go shall fall into the musings little Indian mouse, missing the street food, the noises of the fans and traffic, the blending in, and not cleaning my dogs poop once he poops. 

Re starting

September 11, 2012

Seems like an ominous day to start something new.

Seems like a great day to start something new.

When 9/11 took place the world watched shaken, the stories and the hate, the love and the final moments have reverberated for over a decade and the only thing that clear and strong that each persons sags resounded with were the simple words of I Love You.  Live your life, it’s a beautiful thing to have, make it count, make it large.

Its 10.00am, am sitting in a silent room, in a rather silent office where people are yet to make an appearance. It’s a new place.  Another new start.

Its rather ironical, but sitting in a office space makes me feel immediately more productive, happier and willing to do more.  Including write. Gives me a sense of purpose, though as I type, I don’t know how to get water, where the loo is, what is the internet password and how the coffee comes to the desk.

Yet having been in and out of several offices over the past years, there is a certain sense of ease that comes with being around one. The jabber with the colleagues, the running in on time and the banter that comes with lunch, all go towards making it a more fun day.  A conversation – that makes you scratch the surface of who the other person is.

You are aware that you know them but, there is a whole level of them that you do not know, a certain line that is never crossed,  a wall that comes up. If I was to die surrounded by my colleagues over the past years, I am sure it would feel to me that I  had been deprived in some manner of a death that I deserved. What a morbid thought na.

Its ironical that one knows spends a maximum amount of ones day in this group, yet for the most part, in most organizations the interactions are aimed at being limited, professional and non personal. A birthday holiday is equal to leave taken for personal reasons. Cute in a sense how much we try to plain jane ourselves.

Reading the article, (http://www.businessinsider.com/how-rich-people-think-differently-from-the-poor-2012-8?op=1) was an opener to assess how much we stress on the little thinks and the approach itself towards thinking/thoughts  the foundation determines the extent of what we become.

Rich people think differently. Loved people think differently. Successful people think differently. Developed country citizens think differently. Poor people think differently. How much of us thinks in a manner that the I chooses, it an interesting question to ask oneself.

For a return to writing this one is a hell of a jumbled up article, but it’s a good reflection of life in the here and now. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.

Connecting

I have a bias.  Raised in a middle class India, family there was a line that was unwritten non questioned, clear. Taking drugs was bad. Not acceptable and people who did rely on them were somehow to be distrusted. pitied almost. 

As one grew up. The straight line, managed to get blurred. Diversions appeared. Tolerance levels were rechecked and the unwritten rule faded.  Part of it was the teenagers desire to be cool. savvy, ok with it all. but somehow it wasnt. That somehow remained. 

Remember walking around the Pilani campus for the massive fest, there were kids sitting below the umpteen lampposts, with the water bombs, passing it around, lost to the world. There was a fatal attraction they radiated, a composed oblivion. A open closed group, intimate to themselves. Part of me wanted to belong, be a part of that intimate sharing. The other part was distrustful, of them, the weed, the loss of control, the being 'bad' all made me shrink away, regarding them as people I had little to do with.

That was college. Life moved on, spirituality made an entry. This was all things good. or so my childhood conditioning said. It was holy, about higher purpose, connections, withdrawing inwards, and realizing more than the mere desires of life.

Sitting in Rishikesh, pretty close to a holy man, one saw him fill his chillam, light up. take a deep drag and sit. Eyes closed, he sat there the picture of serenity. Closer home, sitting in Bangalore, a young man, a musician told me about the spiritual power of acid. How a few drops could make the illusionary world drift away, the real world seep in and meditative bliss that no amount of pranayama, sitting on the yoga mat or visitng ashrams could induce. 

He offered me some. I refused. Stating in a high and mighty voice, that I would allow my breath to be my ladder to godly connect, not acid. My breath is still waging war with my mind, a losing war. 

Delving deeper into the spiritual realm, the use of medicinal herbs, cactus plants, magic mushrooms all were used for centuries. Shamans 'guided by spirits' knew what the other person needed, would monitor the experience, and even somehow know what the enemy was that the other person was battling with. There was a use of the plant, a plant to get you into the realm of unknown.

Reading an article today about the drug tourism trend in SE Asia, I wondered what it was that was enticing about the experience. A sense of freedom? an ability to laugh more than not? a rebel allowed a platform to rebel against something? pure joy? an addiction? an craving..

As the old school girls moral judgement, becomes mellower a old soul part of me still refuses to let go. My heart cringes when i hear a friend declare he was stoned last night. or another one share that he needs a joint to fall asleep. Have heard the lines about it being healthier than booze or ciggerettes, a way of relaxing, etc etc but somewhere somehow, my old soul wonders if any of these crutches are needed? truly needed

Whales have rights

Disclaimer - I am an animal person and vegetarian. I also think rescuing a dog from a burning house before rescuing the family album is a perfectly sane thing to do.
____________________________________

Sitting on the couch, reading the morning paper this morning lead to a rather unexpected event. A heated pre breakfast morning discussion.

What sparked off the debated was this article -http://www.digitalspy.co.uk/odd/news/a364683/seaworld-sued-for-killer-whale-slavery.html. For those too lazy to read the original article, its about PETA suing Sea World (the amusement park where killer whales shows are a key attraction)

Peta on behalf of the killer whales, was fighting for the independence of the whales to live a free, fearless life in the open seas and be rescued from the tank like confines that they were a part of. Normally, this could have been seen as a over zealous attack of activism, but there was something more to the article that caught ones attention..

2 years ago during one of the shows, one of the 'slaved' killer whales, took her own trainer, dragger her underwater, thrashed her at the bottom of the tank till she breathed her last. Note, the trainers are the ones who have the most intimate bond, with the whales, devote nearly there entire lives to the cause of being the caretakers of these creatures.

The debate centered on 2 topics. One the right to demand independence for animals and secondly,  if rights for causes such as animals, environment etc could only be implemented or even considered once human rights had been taken care of.

One side of the argument, centered around ensuring that the scarce resources of the world be first directed at uplifting the human beings, as only once the impoverished had a better chance of survival would they stop tampering the environment. The corner stone of this argument centered around the higher value of human life than say whales, and so the protective measures first must take care of this species. aka the human species.

The second argument, was revolving the inherent rights of every being. the right of life of a squirrel being equal to the right of life to say a donkey and moving away from speciesm. This would be a huge argument- and against the moral code of life as it exists right now. the human race is supreme. this is fundamental way the world has been organized. This supreme - power- allows it to determine who will live, who dies what is a species thats endangered and which one isnt.

A line in the article stated - merely because the being (whales) which were alive, feeling, emotive being, not born in the form of humans have fewer rights? In my view they dont. What would it mean if PETA did win this case?

A right to choose, for animals from animal testing, from circuses, from being puppets in zoos, leather making machines. A natural order of things, a reversal of the stone age. No that would be far fetched. However a natural extension of a favourable verdict could impact several forms of animal use. Interesting though.

If the animals could speak, am not sure how many animalistic revolutions would we have to deal with. This post is rambling, and there is no clear point to be made but one..

there is sanctity of life. in every atom of every being. every being wants to live. A book mentioned the wails a plant also lets out at a high pitch each time there is an perceived threat to its being. and it hurts.

I wish there were happy free whilly endings to all such situations. freedom. life.
to dreaming of these realities once, sometime. 

India -tata tata bye bye

Indias GDP to slow down to 6.7%.  2 ministers found seeing porn in Parliament, sewage water coming in the taps of local residents, Yuvraj singh is upset at making the headlines for 2 days in a row over his cancer, skill levels in youth found to be inadequate, FDI flight is an issue the budget needs to address, tractor sales down as food prices head down, inflation capping itself but eroding the saving level of people. 

2 week holiday for Thailand and Malaysia, book now to guarantee seats, new toll levied for passengers using the bangalore airport. Passengers angry as the road is blocked and there is no sign of the signal free road they were promised, GDP slipping to a 3 year low, Jindals are raising their voice against the mining ban, Mahindra and Mahindra slipping in its quater sales as the price of inputs rise, netas watch porn in the house, incompetent netas to fired after 15 years, Mark your diary, beat exam blues away with a song and a snack, namma netas take a yoga break, Congress leader wants a dress code, Cauvery water to elude 26,00,000 locals this summer, Trekker dies due to outdated maps, Triveni Sangama littered with waste, Daughter only guest in parents house, Ministers asked to take ownership for targets.

Caretaker turns goa house into a brothel. Kingfisher goof up leads to a family of four being stranded in Seol, Why this kolaveri di over my illness yells yuvraj? Wanted home loan managers, Experience 0-3 years, Rahul Gandhi gives ticket to a man with a criminal past, Crickets tipping point, why Indian cricket team declined, Double Standards - are liberal indians less outspoken about Muslim bigots than hindu ones?

India needs to understand that it must compete for investments. 

Each of the lines above is a headline of todays paper. This is what the papers yell. 

Something seems to have gripped either this paper or the nation at large. A sense of joy euphoria is missing, even the Anna stroked fire has seemingly tapered off to a dejected state of listlessness. Summer if just about making its presence felt, the apathy is already here. 

Read any international daily, and India has already been written off as a maybe/possibly/if only potential super star. China is there. A presence a threat. This is not a satire or a cynical piece merely reporting back to myself the factual facts about the nation. 

Sitting with a fellow Indian on a terrace in Pnom Penh, we defended our nation to the German and Brit sitting there, both of whom already have embraced India. They asked us though, why we are so defensive about our nation? Why cant we look at say somethings as they are?

The question stopped me for a minute. Maybe because the truth was bitter. There was simply still after several years too many basics not addressed, in the right manner. Yes, our education was failing us, yes the infrastructure was weak, yes there was filth and dirt, yet there was a beauty to the nation of diverse Indians. a beauty more than peaks and seas. What it was - I found difficult to articulate. 

colony friends

Growing up was fun. Yawn. Relax am not going to go on lamenting about how childhood was so blessed, and how growing up isnt what it was meant to be. NOT WRITING ABOUT THAT!

This is an ode to an even simpler phenomena. Geographic friends

As a kid growing up in Delhi, the school was a place where people from diverse city areas came together. Some of these areas were so far away, that despite living in the same city, we never went there. It was simply too far.

Friends somehow effortlessly feel into a natural grouping scheme. there were school friends, tuition friends, bus friends and the best of the lot colony friends.

This motley bunch, was a cacophony of fun. boys and girls, all from different schools, classes, ages, and in a city like Delhi, parts of India came together. Devoid of cellphones the plan was simple. Every evening no matter what, by 4.30 -5 all one had to do was to get into play clothes, slam the books and show up. Simple. If you didnt show up, the group that had shown up would come below your house and yell your name with stinking adjectives attached till you did show up.

the rest was invented. Games were played, camp out sessions on roof tops planned, early morning walks and runs, combined with a elaborate plan of what breakfast to steal from whom was set up. The beauty was the effortlessness of it all.

As a grown up, i miss the colony hang outs. Now dinners have to be planned, invitations sent. Or even if its casual, one person has to drive from far away to somewhere else far away. Drooping in for a coffee or heading for a long walk, are activities that come at a premium and traffic robs one of the desire of just going to the local hang out pub.

The sitcoms of America, that have had most of us entralled almost always had a few things in common. Take Friends, Sienfield, Will and Grace, Two and a half men, How I Met Your Mother, - the friends stayed close together, had an 'adda' to hang out at and this enabled them to be a part of each others lives a lot more than not.

Colony Friends. That what each of them were.
Having moved into a new area, its a void that I feel. The knack of just landing up, with the dog on a leash and knowing that a fun conversation, a ice cream on a stick and a walk through the streets with laughter was guaranteed.

Damn

Thumping Down

Bulleters

The name pretty much sums it up. Bulleters – a riding club for people with a passion for bullets. A group, where words are replaced with thumping engine noises, the keeekeee, keeeeekkeeee of the accelerator being pulled, dhakdhakdhakdhak dhaaaaaak dhaaaaak dhaaaaak sounds, a flash and someone speeds by you, another moment and a turn looms up.

Sitting behind, holding on tight, one pushes the defiant strand of hair from ones eyes and concentrates. Nature, trees, monkeys are all zoned into one common truth.

Man, machine and the road.

A flick of the wrist, a roar in response

Slit eyes, scanning everything

Split decisions taken, the world zooms by

Over and over again, vroom the men

Faster, crazier, madder, the rush making the eyes water

One man pauses. Pulls over. Waits

Rider and bike, cockily lazily gaze

Waiting to see who made it next

The speed the thrill the competition that somehow never ends

A bike pulls up. Helmet is removed

Riders gaze into each others eyes

Competition, then and there dies.

A big grin, a slap on the back.

That was fun maccha, zatak the bikes went

Revving down the crowded roads of the city, Bikes lined up one behind the other thumping and hooting their brotherhood. A bike snake, coiled its way as bystanders looked with on with a smile, children waived and local boys tooted their horns in glee

Sitting there -  yet again reprimanding the defiant hair strands it came to me. There is a spontaneous joy in belonging to something large. Larger than you or your immediate circle of people, even though this was a bike ride and not a cause, there is an intuitive intoxicating rush in belonging. Creating a wave

Egypt made more sense now. Anna made more sense now. The cause becomes secondary, the thrill primary.

What Do You Remember of Today?

TODAY

This is the work of Jonathan Harris.
Watch it once, please do.

Jonathan, was turning 30 and the realization that there was a lot happening in life that he did not know about struck him, the feeling that as you are growing older, your life may not be as you imagined it to be when you were 20, that there is a feeling of not attaining much, a feeling of there being a lot more to do, a feeling to determine who you are.

He embarked on an experiment, each day before he would head to sleep he would take a picture representing for him the day. One moment in the day, that meant a lot for him. One moment that said it all.

As the year moved along, the project engulfed him. It made him realize how little space there is to pause, to reflect, to introspect. Space. Privacy, time for contemplation. In the rushed pace of life, where information is distorted on a near constant pace fragments of information that come together to make news there is a need

To pause.
Stop
Take a moment to create and ponder over your own experiences, the life you just created, the story that you are making

When a close relative of mine died, a few years back. It made me realize, that there is nothing nothing that matters more than the story of makes with the life they lead. It need not be large, it need not be wide spread, it just needs to be the best that you could do. the lives you could touch, the choices you made.

A memory bank. Richer this bank with diverse experiences, rich is that life.

An external Perspective

I learnt a new thing in January. There is something called the developing worlds EYES and there is something called the DEVELOPED world eyes. Eyes being a synonym for the multiply laced perspectives that define how we see and what we see of the world. 

Sitting by the sea side of a little cafe in Phu quoc, Vietnam, we struck up a conversation with a middle aged couple from Canada. As travel conversations tend to go, we were soon trading tips on where to go and what to see. 

The couple began talking about the most vivid moment that they had in they journey so far. A visit to the floating village in Cambodia. Hmm floating village, sounds interesting. "oooh you have to go there, what ever you do you must not miss this. its remote so very different, these people dont have anything, they are living in an ancient way, with even the schools on water. Electricity isnt there. Its unimaginable. The sheer will power and courage of them is remarkable"

The developing country Indian in me quipped back. That does sound interesting, the floating part of it, but the rest that you mentioned is a part and parcel of a large portion of developing nations and there are zillion of cases of people managing a life without the luxury of these resources. 

Thats when it hit me. 

At some level I have Indian eyes. am accustomed to seeing a lot of hardship, its normal for me to open the paper and hear about honour killings, its acceptable to see a village that is living with little to no power, and its more than normal for there to be rich, poor, and middle class. The attitude of this is how it is has been ingrained. I no longer 'see' this as alarming, no longer does it jolt me, it is what it is. 

Does that make the developing nation - cynical ? or worse indifferent? Maybe. 

Does that make the developed nation - more caring? more responsive.. Not sure. 

For the record, we did go to the village. The 'Floating' part was true. Each house was fashioned on a foundation of oil drums, on which wooden planks were nailed down and on that a house made. Effective solution, for flooding, as the house simply rose when the water rose. 

The other bits, about being the most remote island ever. Blah! Each house had TV, there was a convent school, a medical clinic, cafe, a harbour boat pier, each tourist was charged 20 dollars to see them, little girls were accustomed to playing with pythons to get tips and the regular tourism showcase was on. 

My developing nation eyes - were disappointed. 

Somehow one notices more when they are traveling, than when they are living by within the comfort zone. 

Everyday, events that one takes for granted in the lives of people back- home and refuses to get alarmed by are things that evoke a reaction elsewhere. Too theoretical a statement, that is. lets simplify it. At a construction site near my house, families are engaged in construction. The children of these students, lay out the mat, get the books and study below the light of the lamp. A very cliched Indian moment. So cliched that even the President of India, used this as an Idiom to depict 'struggle'. As did Mr. Bagchi. 

The example, isnt to demean the struggle at all, rather used to highlight the matter of fact manner in which everyone around them responds to the very visible economic divide. So normal it is, that an emotional reaction isnt evoked.

Maybe to someone touring Asia for the first time, it would be an alarming sight to observe. 

The interesting twist to this though is an observation. It doesnt take long for a developed eye person to get the cultural sensitivity of the developing ones.  Things that alarm you at first, quickly become the norm. The beggar children are not given sweets by week 5, by week 6 one learns to ignore the old lady with the big spectacles and by week 7, one is not wondering why there is a baby playing on the sand pit.

rewards and accolades

The news papers are all over the news about the IPO of Facebook. FlipCart is getting a valuation of 850 million, amazon is soon going to shut down the legendary Barnes and Nobles and new innovations across the board are getting their due.

Standing in front of a bonfire last weekend, a new man appeared. He was a pals pal. When asked what connected them together, they answered - passion! a mutual passion.

Entrepreneurship. That was the answer that was what they were passionate about. Creating something new. something from a thought, to an idea, to a tangible outcome to a real product. service. something whatever form it took it did not matter

Its a good time to be in the space of doing your own thing, neednot be large. need not be life altering, there are more programs and spaces geared up to support your venture than ever before.

Attending a workshop in Bangalore, one was stunned by the level of support the Start Up Communities got. People created spaces for thought,  and mutual collaboration, there were people giving a how do start kits, vc's advising and funding options available aplenty.

Yet much like the Bollywood extras, that aim for the moon. Some land up with star dust and some with glimpses of spotlight, for every good idea there are a few that succeed and a few that dont. Having shadowed a few companies that have made it big, the core reason, seems in my view to balance 3 core things

- Clarity on what the idea is about - what is the purpose that it is trying to solve. Clarity on this allows the marriage to be with the intention and not the process. Hows give way to addressing why are we doing this

- Determination to make tough decisions - There are friends and then there are partners. Sometimes partners make good friends, and sometimes friends dont make good partners. who is who is a tricky bit. The challenge often is to create a system, that culturally has the feel good factor of openness, fun work space with allowance for a new set up to be created. Over time. Processes are not the enemies. Rigidity is.

- Dreaming Big - If you dream about conquering an empire. that is what you will do. If you dream about being an empire of the village then that is what you will get. That is the size of your aspiration shall dictate the actions that you undertake.  The larger the dream the larger the actions

Love the theoritical spool that I seem to be on for today. While the above may have a grain of truth in it, it all falls flat unless one has a deep level of risk taking capacity. A appetite for uncertainty, a conviction that its possible. Without that anything isnt possible

Same same but different

I feel like energy. Movement. Mojo.

Change, keeping it real and making things happen.  There is so much to write about that it paralyzes the flow of thought itself. From the last insignificant blog article to the movement now, there is a sea of change that needs to be accounted for.

The key question that everyone seems to ask is how does it feel. As one passes as an active participant through a grand Indian Wedding, the one thing that is a slippery eel, is the ability to stop and feel. Fear, nervousness, excitement, all jostle for space with the hectic rhythm of managing a event. One forgets to allow the moment to sink in.

How does it feel to be married? Is there a huge change? This is a question that I am answering for myself as well.

Walking along the chaotic streets of Vietnam, there are t shirt slogans of all sorts and kinds that catch your eye. Angry birds, jostle with i-poh for attention. One of them seems to be the one that is a pop out art form of my state of mind

Same same…………….. but different. 

That’s exactly what this feels like. Being an Indian, can state that its a exhilarating luxury to have a partner that has to work hard to surprise you, because the knowingness is on a high pedestal. But a ring on the finger must change some nuances even within that relationship? It felt a bit different. Looking down at the henna draped hands and feet, the implications of the move began to make themselves felt. Bit by bit.

At the core of it, there was a feeling of liberation to the move. Liberation, is a strange word to use for a act that is by its very nature binding.  Liberating- as it allowed me to allow a large catchment of fear, fear of loosing to leave.  Liberating, as it allowed one to somehow believe that this was more secure. A promise of tomorrow, made today more alive. Deeper. Richer. The Fragile tag could be ripped of.

Of course, I know that’s a silly reaction. Marriages, are fragile.  Crushable in seconds. Boredom, taking for granted germs that come to infect. Somehow, maybe its still the honeymoon phase, as long as you take responsibility for your happiness, for making yourself a alive person sharing the changes and learning’s with those around you, things should be ok.

With this new lease of life. With permission from myself to do more, live more. There is a new zest, a new focus on living life just a bit more. Action it baby. 

Opening up to life

A lizard just fell on me. Literally. A real one. I yelled and didnt even want to flick it, as flicking it would have meant touching it.. eeeeww!

not the point of this blog post though. Stepping into office, there was an interesting thought that emerged. A pal is having a moment of crisis and is in a job that she detests, cant do hates. What it does give her is wealth but little else. 

As we chatted, the idea of taking a vacation emerged. Not the lets go to italy, and see the leaning tower of Pisa kind of a vacation but a break from your life. From a need to work for security, from being on a path of getting somewhere, doing something that will get you someplace, from validity and productivity. 

Its a notion that is very urban based. I am valued because I do. I earn. I generate. 

Spending time wisely has got intrinsically linked to generating something, creating something that shall take you ahead. Living on a linear time line. Diversions are frowned upon and welcome. Milestone chase warranted and appreciated. 

The idea of taking a sabbatical - not so original I admit came to mind. The trick to however, truly enjoying a sabbatical is to give your self license to be. Being free is a mindset. If a sabbatical becomes a next job hunt, where every conversation is laced with an hidden anxiety - will this lead to business, will I gain something from this, then lets admit it, its a job hunt and not a break. 

Il bel far niente (dolce far niente) – This Italian phrase translates as “the sweetness of doing nothing.

This was the term that Elizabeth aka Eat Pray Love, learnt to appreciate in Italy. Cynics, I can see the rolling eyes and the smug expression of yea well, what would the world be like if we all just sat with our legs on the table playing poker all night long. But its not about laziness. On the contrary, its about awareness.

Imagine this. You take a sum of money and gift it to yourself. This is money that you made/got and have permission to spend. Gift yourself time. Say a quarter of a year, not too little not too much. This is when it gets interesting, find yourself ways to spend the time meaningfully. 

The only things that you are not allowed to do is

• see any form of TV/movies/serials/games or external entertainment that comes of a box as a way of killing time.
• or find a job or other ways of SECURING the future 
• or facebook. 

rest is ok. the intention is to get comfortable with the idea of uncertainty. Letting the cloak of security drop and still live the present.

Hmm. As I type out this sentence, there is a devlish smile that is playing in my face. In fact I think I am going to give myself a break just like this once I have say 50l in my account. Challenge the self/soul/mind to find things to do. Be comfortable in solitude.

Drumming my fingers on the table, thinking thinking of what is it that I would really really want to do/be/learn.

Getting the obvious ones out of the way first, would want to head to a shamanistic master in south america, and drink the brew that only he can give to you, to spend time in serious guided meditation at the Kailash. To learn a dance and a martial art form. Stillness. 

To travel with a exploration troupe, and write a series about it.. like the nat geo kind of a group. Would work in a clean animal farm and bring up a baby orangtutan. Study the science of human behaviour, throw myself into the world of interesting classes, where I can shamelessly blend art, painting, history, psychology, creative arts and writing, learn what the term impressionist really means, tag a photo journalist for a while, become a healer and learn how to skate. 

or simply take the trans altantic siberian train-- nah somehow that is a bit too long in a train

Just today, sat transfixed in an auto for 3 minutes, stared at the map of the asian continent. Beyond the topmost point of the Himalayas there was a world. Tibet a nation - a mystery. China a power a centary. Mongolia and the wind readers, Russia. Siberia. Japan. The span of land was immense. 

Each city with its own tales and experiences. Travel for travel sake can get dull. its tough work, takes courage and the ability to not stop. But a journey is different. Its not about wandering for the sake of being in motion but exploring for the sake of knowing. It slows you down.

If I could and I will. On my sabbatical I will wander inward, with the presence of people who do so. Explore the thousand ways of connecting that people have. 

A self given gift of a break. Love the concept.

Academia, Kill Bill and Fasting

What the heck do these three topics even have in common. Its a valid question, to which I do have a valid answer. 

Stepping into the portals of the National Gallery of Modern Art, there was a silent breath that I took. It seemed that I had stepped back into time, into a world where the thinkers, the academics and the activists had gathered together. Chappals with interestingly tumbled hair held in place by a hastily thrown pen, rubbed shoulders with the trouser clad man whose label did not boast of Allen Solly, but a Fab India. Pink  fought with the bright yellow for colours and SlRs were hastily thrust into the bags that at once were hip, smart yet non conventional

The crux world. The meeting point where the academic returned to the corporate. but did not get absorbed there, instead they sat a bit on the fringe connecting the government to the corporate to the non profit to themselves to the others and debated, discussed, taught and otherwise created hotly contested moments where new thought was getting created, channeled. 

Sitting there in my Wills Lifestyle trousers, and rather unbecoming shirt, i knew I should have gone the grunge earthy look. Never Mind. Gathering all the material handed out, I sat in a corner and read the profiles of the people. 

Profiles - hmm they have a way of making anyone sound like gods gift to mankind. Often it makes me want to sit next to the person, a cup of chai in hand and ask them with wide open eyes, how did all this happen, what made you leap from this to that, the randomer the profiles the wider the eyes. Reading one profile after the other a deep desire to go study & have oxford or something like that next to my name was there. 

Between diversity, and depth there is a debate that is ranging about the deeper journey that one should be a part of. Depth and diversity, in where it is applied may be an interesting twist to make the both come together. Where one travels doing the one thing that one is good at, while learning a lot of other things by the side. The now abused mantra of Steve jobs - Stay hungry stay foolish comes to mind.

Leaving the intellectuals at their discussions, I headed off to more materialistic events that made me happy. Wedding shopping and movies with pop corn by the side. Kill bill 2 was the entertainment of the night, and new respect for Uma Thurman and martial arts as a world emerged. 

Martial Arts, judo, karate, tai chi, kalari, chi gong, all seem to have a root in orientalism. The submissive discipline that it requires you master and be apt at may have something to do with it. Enough and more movies have been showcased with the wayward student being made to go through the grind and then emerge later to be talented, gifted and with senses alert.

Long time back a pal was getting to be profecient in Tai Chi. At a party, he was conversing with a girl, when someone to the side of him, someone out of his line of vision dropped a glass. As a reflex action, his pals hand popped out and held the glass. a action even he was surprised by.

Centering, withdrawing inwards and then pushing yourself to limits you didnt even know has been a method they repeatedly adopt. 

I failed.

Needed to fast for A DAY. A DAY! ok not even A DAY, could eat in the night, and that was such a tough thing to do. Drank water, juice the works and still food came and sat plonk in the middle of the brain refusing to budge no matter what else i entertained it with. Bugger him.

Eating at the end of the day, was a relief as half the mac donald burger killed any de tox that the body may have gone through. Food you are such joy.

Sunday was spent gorging on food. And unhealthy one at that. The laziness carried on to Monday and its only now. much much later that I can feel me stretching and acknowledging that work is about to happen!

Its my favourite kind of a day

Today is how a day should be. A friend is sitting on the couch having an afternoon beer, the dog is on the rug chewing his shoe. Hot lunch smells are simmering in through the kitchen and I am sitting with the laptop watching the virgin rain wipe clean the trees.

Its the kind of day when you want to sit on the couch curled and have a long conversation with a friend. slow down speed up, have a long bath and dance around in your towel singing snatches of songs that come and go at will.

Its a happy day.

Standing in front of my bookshelf the other day, was wondering what to read. The voice in the tummy has for long been asking me to sit, just sit on the yoga mat in the silence that lets things happen position. for an unknown reason have been deffering the same. The guilt intellect -  decided a comprise solution was the best idea lets read a book about life and its greater mysteries.

Neale Walsch, Conversations with God. Book 3 stood innocently on the shelf. Sharing space with a Wanye Dyer and snuggled next to a lame Daniel Steel. Picking up the book, i played the silly mind game that I like playing. Sitting with the book in my hand, I shut my eyes and asked the book to open to the page that I needed to learn from.

It did.

There were two messages that the book ended with. Belief in the fact that we are all one, and there is enough.

The moment you commence believing everyone in the same shoes, each one living their lives and doing things that they need to do. it also talked about the life choices that existed on other planets, one could of course choose to believe it or choose not to be a part of it. both are choices that are valid. If one chooses to believe that there is some other life out there, then it makes you wonder if they have a new way of life, a alternative belief system.

The book claims they do.

its a planet, where the other beings do what they truly love to do, each person believes that fulfilling each of their love the barter flows well, and there is enough for everyone to grow. There is no need to hold and constrict, no need to close but let go, no need to amass but share.

There is a great joy in sharing, AB a close friend in my view is the one person whom I know is living a highly evolved life, he has sub consciously plugged into the joy of giving. it has changed who he is, made him larger than himself, made him a doer, a creator and selfless in a manner that I see rarely around me.

For a day, for 2 its worth a try, living knowing that there is enough, that there are incredible life stories there that are existing, life stories that are possible because they took a chance, they flowed with life. Life responds to experiences. Routine sometimes causes a lull, a lull of repetition, that only leads to perfect weariness.

Was reading a book this morning. Had an extract about the Tibetian practice of begging. Buddhist monks as a practice are encouraged to beg, so are the sufis and the jains. The intention is that the act of begging created a link of need btw the person begging, and the person giving. The need fulfillment creates a bond between then that can clear the energy for them. Even if one was to disregard that, for a moment I pictured myself begging on the street. Asking. allowing for strange people to help me. It made me feel small. humilated. the mere thought was icky.

Yet it was a interesting notion. The asking minus ego, the not getting because you earned it, but getting because you deserve it. The act of being open to receive is perhaps tougher than the act of giving.

Exploding Typhoon

Yesterday was on of those days that did not start right or end right. The ending was in fact a whimper, which saw me sitting like a couch potato and not moving, I am doing a lot of the couch potato scene now days and havnt got a clue as to why. 

If I am seeing a lot of TV - it is usually an indication that there is not enough living that is being done. There must be more and the line from the most seen video of Steve Jobs comes to haunt me, " every morning i would look at myself in the mirror and ask myself, is what I am doing something that i love to do? then i would go ahead and do it" and if not then dont stop seeking 

Anyway, all that is a long drawn affair that takes a long time to determine. Coming back to yesterday.. for starters my shower began an unusual dance, it took the term 360 degree management and took it to another level. 

On opening the water source, water began to flow out from the taps, the shower and even that knob in between that decides if the water has to come from the shower or the tap. In a minute, it was like taking a shower in those fancy hotel loos, where the water comes and caresses one from all sides and directions.

Managed somehow, and was caught by the cook who mentioned her accident. a pane of glass hit her palm, and a cut resulted in a loss of unprecedented quantum of blood.  Blood makes me faint. Even the mention of a river of blood is enough to get me sick. running out from her phantom hands, I headed out.

office, work and waiting plumbers, resulted in needing to rush back home soon. But of course that could not be as there was a puncture waiting gleefully in the corner, with a big grin on its face. Huffing and panting I attempted to prove that I knew how to replace a tyre. 

didnt even know where to place the jack~~

Bummer. A sweet gentleman passing my, took pity and assisted the 2 men and 1 women trio in the tyre replacement. Thanking him sweetly, I drove off. The car drove off too, off the road that is. it spun out of control and there was a vibration that did not cease. The spare tyre was a bad cannon.

Needing cash, before repairing the tyre, headed to atm 1 - out of order. atm 2  ( a ten min drive and complex parking space later) - getting loaded with cash, not in use. Atm 3 - bingo.. all of 30min gone. Puncture shop 1 - closed for the day, puncture shop 2 - stopped puncture repairing, puncture shop 3- did not even get there.

Disaster lurked around the corner. 

Heading to the gym, after a week of a disciplined work out I stood on the scale. The scale moved and shuddered, headed and got stuck at a weight. The same weight I had entered the gym with. Hmm, never mind, there must be more muscle than fat in the body now. I mused. Heading to the in body assessment thing, i determined the bone mass vs the fat mass and all that nonsense. SAME

Eyes smarting with tears, upset at that which I was seeing i headed to the trainer who yelled for irregular hours, partying etc etc none of which were true. upset, deeply so, and everything seeming to come together I got up and left. just sad. tired and needing a happy day. a simple happy shining silly laughter of a day.

the feeling of not doing enough with life came back, the feeling of wanting more came back. and i sat there, just smarting. 

But then someone just shared with me a story of a donkey. 

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do.
Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.
He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.
A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up.
As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up. Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!
Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The t rick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a steppingstone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.
Remember the five simple rules to be happy:
Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.
Free your mind from worries - Most never happen.
Live simply and appreciate what you have.
Give more.
Expect less

NOW ...........

Enough of that crap . .. . The donkey later came back, and bit the farmer who had tried to bury him.
The gash from the bite got infected and the farmer eventually died in agony from septic shock.


MORAL FROM TODAY'S LESSON:

When you do something wrong, and try to cover your ass, it always comes back to bite you.

so anyway, I know what I am doing wrong. I am not living enough and not doing enough. Not enough of the things that get me joy. And that is the wrong part of it all. wait less, do more. life shall flow, faster simpler and more of what you want shall come to u.

Living a Chocobar life.

I am brown. I live in a brown nation. Everyone around me is brown.
I date a white man.
This combination, is not mine alone. A few close friends are also part of an interracial coupling, where given the location of where we stay there is a tendency for the couple to stand out.

In delhi, there are a lot of non indian friends, who come in to work here and make India their base. They sometimes find a love interest in an Indian man. They too come under the inexplainable category called interracial couple.

Here are a few ugly truths about being an interracial couple in India. Starting from the being a women with a white man. The moment such a scenario is presented to the public, the immediate reaction seems to be from the people around that (i) its a passing thing, one of the expats choosing to have fun while he is here (ii) the women is a gold digger or worst (iii) escort service hmmm!

The manifestations of these can be seen in several technically small incidents. Like for example, when you choose to check into a hotel you are asked to prove that you are married. How does one prove that? By showing them a relevant document. what is that? a marriage certificate! Really!! who carries a marriage certificate and moves around in any case?

or the other incident was even better.

We head to a resort around Pune. A small bunglow converted into a hotel, serene, tranquil .. etc etc you get the drift. Enter details as mandated in the log book. Wrong thing to do was to reach there wearing what i think was a pretty summer dress and heels. What waits us there is a bunch of men, who have come from Pune to ENJOY... you know what that means, drinks, cards a bonfire, loud music, lots of bc-mc floating around and a bunch of loud boys.

Fair enough. Your form of fun, please have it. carry on.

What happens though is this. As i leave the next day and get into network area, very strange sms's begin to pop on my black berry. To the tune of 'if you are done can you please call' assuming it was the landlord of the resort, I call back .. no ones picks up

a min or two later the person calls back. Hi is this N.. he asks, this is Sumeet here.. we met at the resort and you gave me your number? What no! i never gave anyone my number..? so who the hell are you and what the f do u want?

Aaaaahh .. no no we were wondering , you know if you were going to be done with your client!

I hear that and I freak out. Yelling into the phone and I dont even know what to say, so stunningly stupid is that what I am hearing!!!!! Escort service ... what the hell is this even about!! ........ called
the resort person and this was his response was deal with it. People in India are silly! and thats what this is about there is nothing one can do.

The feeling that I got was - that I was being the person silly, why should I even be calling him and getting troubled.. and there is no need for being that loud about it. The fact that I was hurt was my problem it would have been normal

after all i was with a white man. what did i expect
the fact was that I was supposed, asking for it!

This is it. India slaps u.

Turning 30

oh my god.. you are going to be 30 years old? my nephews eyes opened in horror as he looked at me with his mouth open.  Are you not like getting really old? Should you not be sort of settled in life.

He is 20 years old

I am a fossil in his eyes. Stuck between his parents and something in between.

He believes that he shall be a world traveller, half retired, and singing in kareoke bars in Japan for the joy of it by the time he is 30. I hope he is. 

My ivory coast called me and asked if I had completed my list of things that were there to do before I was 30. Am not sure if I made such a list, and if I had where it is now. Nah am not even going to make a list of what I want to achieve by the time I am 40. It seems for the 30 year old in me as faar off as the complete meltdown of the polar ice caps. am sure it shall come, and am sure I shall be as surprised by its coming than not.

But what has happened with this age?

The few things that are visible and on the surface different that I can point out are:

• There are greys that appear in ones hair
• Starting something new takes longer to do
• contentment is about a book, a quilt and a arm flung around the person u love
• loud music over dinner is an irritant, one prefers conversation
• reconnecting with parents is not something one is made to do
• old friends pop back in life, and new friends are more in the i know him but i dont know know him
• loosing weight is not that easy
• a good deal - is more about the larger things in life, than flip flops
• one wonders why girls giggle so much
• You stop believing that one can retire in 4 years
• When you travel, there is a hesitation in striking up a conversation with someone new, a little more than earlier
• you jump a lot more - in your head
• tolerance levels are at an all time high, at an all time low
• you know yourself and accept yourself a lot more

There is a growing up. tone of conversations change, but there is a desire like a rocket in the bum that eggs one to do more, be more, try more, share more.. live more

The fastest slow race to leave a mark

As i enter the 30's the one thing that is change, is that unlike the 20s where the canvas of life changed every 2 years, new people came, old people left, the ties were so organic that they changed rapidly .. now something are more constant. and the rest less important

the unknows are there, as many as uncertain but what does change is the fact that you are more sure of yourself.

hope so

blore-hyderabad-mumbai

There is something very interesting about taking flights. The moment I step into the cab that drives me to the airport I am transported to another land, the daily life begins receding and new instances and conversations open up.

Baring the packing, everything else about it is fun.

Surprisingly awake at 6. 30 am I make my way into the Bangalore airport. the ques are tiny, the mens section horribly busy the females not as much. Smiling to myself, I browse at the local book store stopping yet once more in front of a spiritual book.

amongst the business novels yelling there fares ranging from how to stop talking and start doing, to the battle hymn of the tiger mom, a orange jacket cover peeped out. Lessons learnt while trying to sit and meditate or something like that.

Supremely tempted I leaned in to buy the book, only to remind me that a fat ass book was already in my bag. Rueing the Free Tibet, purchased I marched along.

Filter coffee. Check
Grab at least 3 news papers from the kiosk check
Dad calling on the phone.. huh? what is dad calling me for at 7 am? ..

Determine all is well, and no calamity has befallen the earth and get engrossed in the news. Same old information seeps in. Scary information. Global decline. Greek bailing out situation, the GDP aggregate of the developing economies to exceed that of the developed by 2013, China to have more clout that the states, and in the background can hear accented voices muttering about the rising interest rates, and how they love LA!!!! there is so much to do. followed by each time they think the interest rates cant rise anymore they do!.

Determined to understand this monster called interest rates, that was clearly making life miserable for lots of sods I read Mint cover to cover. Little nuggets of information logged in to the head, and lot bounced off. But the grim reality was that India is just about surfacing for breath once in a while and the shoddy governmental position, weak opposition and directionless RBI is not going to help much in arresting the 3 pillars of inflation, increasing interest rates and depreciating rupee.

Basically we were fucked.

Ah well. Falling asleep in the ATR. Which by the way has a loo. I never before noticed if theATR has a loo or not but it does. Also, if you are tall, and the over head cabin lockers are in a dropped down position, they you will likely to hit your head against it.

Technical glitches at the airport, delayed the luggage and then we were off. Oh yea, and I dropped my boarding pass twice. Never mind.

Flagging a taxi, hyderabad welcomed us with its rocky formations jeweling the road. What a road it was. A 12 km flyover links the airport to the city, and its the longest flyover ever. The man at Jubliee hills was another character.

Ex army. he choose the wrong story to conclude the meeting. He shared.......

It was the time of the india pak Kargil war. As I walked along the hills in the evening, the cook came up to be complaining about the menance the stray dogs were creating, they kept barking through the night and this would lead the entire batallion to wake up and get on high alert for no real reason. "SHOOT HIM' I ordered. He refused. and then shot in the air deliberately aiming to miss. 


I took the sniper gun and shot the dog. 


and..


Fired that man the next day. a man that cant shoot a dog, wont be able to shoot another man. 


I quivered. He shot a dog.!!! for no real reason other than barking
Hmm

Sad truth of life that I rather not know

The next flight of the day board, Mumbai shopping and a birthday beckons.. whoohoo its time for a holiday ;0 i like