Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
A Few of my Favorite Things…
It’s happy-happy time all over :-)
All is good and it makes me think of all things wonderful and brilliant that make me enjoy each day. So, in no particular order, here we go…
1. Dry leaves under my feet, the crunch as I step on them like music to my ears
2. Overcast skies, masses of black-gray clouds casting shadows as they race across the sky
3. Diamonds; glittering, dazzling, sparkling
4. Piping hot cups of coffee, specially in winters when I can see the threads of steam coming out from them and mingling with the chill air
5. Smell of rain
6. Bubble wraps; fighting over bubble wraps
7. Movies, any and all, irrespective of language, genre, old or new
8. Railway tracks, going on and on, appearing to merge in the distance
9. Sleeping in trains (I’ve never slept better that when I sleep in a moving train)
10. Going to new places and listening to their stories, battles that were fought there, kings and queens that ruled it, fires that destroyed it, the man who saved it…
11. Chocolate! Need I say more?
12. Theater, musical or otherwise; live music, live performance of any kind
13. Falling asleep on the couch on a lazy afternoon
14. Fresh snow, playing in it, squishing through it
15. Reading poetry, imagining what the poet must’ve thought to write so
16. Shoes, many many shoes. Many many
17. Hot spicy food; chaat that I could eat from the roadside vendors
18. Books; lazing and reading
19. Being married; the thought of spending every day with V for the rest of my life
20. Bubble baths and hot showers
21. Receiving letters the old fashioned way, by post
22. Mystery novels, being able to guess before the end who did it
I could go on for there is more but I’ll stop at that. And another day I will do a more people-centric list, things that some of them do that bring a warm glow all over.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Waiting and Watching
Have you ever been to an airport and just watched around you? I have and I love it. To me it has always seemed that a tiny cosmos is contained within the walls of a terminal building. Although both tell a plethora of stories, I prefer the arrival areas over the departure lounges, for they tell the ones with happy endings. Or mostly so at least.
The last few weeks have had me awaiting the arrival of sundry guests at Heathrow. And in spite of the London Tube’s best efforts I usually find myself at the airport rather earlier than required. So I just perch myself on one of the seats next to the arrival gates and lose myself in the humdrum of life…
Little children running to greet their father, coming probably from a business trip, the father craving for the tiny hands around his neck as he scoops them up and they plant a sloppy kiss on each of his cheeks.
Elderly parents searching the crowds for a glimpse of their daughter, returning perhaps from university for a holiday; the mother’s eyes brimming with tears of joy when she catches sight of the girl.
The new wife, eagerly awaiting her husband’s approach and meeting him half way, shyly embracing him, conveying the pain of separation and the joy of reunion together with just her glance; the husband gathering her in his arms, not wanting to let go.
The boyfriend and the girlfriend, hugging and kissing, oblivious to the chaos around, only seeing each other.
Two friends greeting their third pal with a high five, a slap on the back and the choicest of curse words all meant to convey only happiness.
The middle aged woman standing by her large suitcase, glancing at her watch every few seconds, disappointment written across her face as she waits for someone who should have been there long ago; frustration finally makes her wheel away her luggage as she makes her way out alone, for whoever it was didn’t seem to think it important enough to be here for her.
The brother with his family, there to receive the sister with hers, their children saying tentative hellos to each other, their spouses exchanging polite niceties while the brother and the sister are transported back to their childhood, meeting like they would have as a little boy and a little girl.
What are their stories? What are their little joys and sorrows? What drives them, what makes them tick? I wonder as I watch them and find myself getting lost in the lives of people I would never know, people I will never see again. Yet I feel drawn to them, because for that briefest of moments, I was privy to their innermost emotions. Aren’t airports just like the world, with life just happening all around?
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Raindrops on roses...
What is it about the weather that gives it the power to change everything? Not physically, not the raindrops or the snowflakes or the feel of the wind but something more. The wetness that soaks you and seeps deep inside, the gusts that rustle your hair on the outside and fan the embers of languid memories on the inside. What is it about the weather?
It’s raining outside (when doesn’t it in London anyway!), virtually incessant rains, a continuous patter on the panes and a chilly breeze wafting in through the open window. It’s nearly cold and I know I should shut the window but somehow I can’t get myself to, so instead I make myself a hot cup of coffee and bundle myself into a blanket and look outside. I can do this all day, forever, just look out into the rain drenched city, any city. And it conjures up so many different images. I get transported back into time - same rain, different day.
Raincoats. Pink for her and green for me. With pictures of identical colorful, open umbrellas dancing around on them. We are gently shoved into them; the hood pulled up and buttoned under the chin, the schoolbag then put and adjusted over my back while she only gets a water-bottle. A peck on the forehead for both and off we go. ‘Hold her hand, take care of her,’ being called out to me as we run towards the waiting bus. One of the first things said to me, and one of the last.
Summer vacations in Ranchi. They still lived in the old house and there is an enormous garden in the middle of which is the little clinic floating like an island. There is water everywhere after overnight rains. The four of us kids race each other to reach the clinic, outside which is a rather large puddle. We make paper boats and sail them in the puddle. The whole day spent in utter joy and oblivion from all else as we played our little rain games to return home muddy and dirty and oh-so-happy.
Overnight stay at Moulshri’s. Water fills the little balcony of their old house as it continues to rain. We splash about and jump in it much to aunty's consternation as she tries to rescue the insides of the room to which the balcony was attached.
School. Class tenth (or was it ninth). It’s raining and PV4 is late. We watch the other buses leave while we huddle in front of the chakra to save ourselves from the downpour. Then one person decides to jump out, others follow. Soon everyone is frolicking about in the rain and the conductor has to literally pull us in when the bus finally arrives.
First day at IIM Calcutta. The whole city is one big mass of water after days of endless raining. They tell me it’s usual in June here in Calcutta. I am apprehensive. Yet we brave the halting, stalled traffic to reach the campus. The lakes are brimming to their fullest and the water on the paths seems to be merging with that in the lakes. The hostel lobby is muddy and slushy from the people coming and going through it. I go to the warden’s room, am handed my keys and make my way to my new room through all the mess. Yet it all seems so beautiful. Finding it impossible the next day to find a cab into town. Moulshri walks up to an embarrassed senior of mine and asks for a hitch, he complies obligingly and rather happily.
It’s raining outside (when doesn’t it in London anyway!), virtually incessant rains, a continuous patter on the panes and a chilly breeze wafting in through the open window. It’s nearly cold and I know I should shut the window but somehow I can’t get myself to, so instead I make myself a hot cup of coffee and bundle myself into a blanket and look outside. I can do this all day, forever, just look out into the rain drenched city, any city. And it conjures up so many different images. I get transported back into time - same rain, different day.
Raincoats. Pink for her and green for me. With pictures of identical colorful, open umbrellas dancing around on them. We are gently shoved into them; the hood pulled up and buttoned under the chin, the schoolbag then put and adjusted over my back while she only gets a water-bottle. A peck on the forehead for both and off we go. ‘Hold her hand, take care of her,’ being called out to me as we run towards the waiting bus. One of the first things said to me, and one of the last.
Summer vacations in Ranchi. They still lived in the old house and there is an enormous garden in the middle of which is the little clinic floating like an island. There is water everywhere after overnight rains. The four of us kids race each other to reach the clinic, outside which is a rather large puddle. We make paper boats and sail them in the puddle. The whole day spent in utter joy and oblivion from all else as we played our little rain games to return home muddy and dirty and oh-so-happy.
Overnight stay at Moulshri’s. Water fills the little balcony of their old house as it continues to rain. We splash about and jump in it much to aunty's consternation as she tries to rescue the insides of the room to which the balcony was attached.
School. Class tenth (or was it ninth). It’s raining and PV4 is late. We watch the other buses leave while we huddle in front of the chakra to save ourselves from the downpour. Then one person decides to jump out, others follow. Soon everyone is frolicking about in the rain and the conductor has to literally pull us in when the bus finally arrives.
First day at IIM Calcutta. The whole city is one big mass of water after days of endless raining. They tell me it’s usual in June here in Calcutta. I am apprehensive. Yet we brave the halting, stalled traffic to reach the campus. The lakes are brimming to their fullest and the water on the paths seems to be merging with that in the lakes. The hostel lobby is muddy and slushy from the people coming and going through it. I go to the warden’s room, am handed my keys and make my way to my new room through all the mess. Yet it all seems so beautiful. Finding it impossible the next day to find a cab into town. Moulshri walks up to an embarrassed senior of mine and asks for a hitch, he complies obligingly and rather happily.
It’s surprising how even though these thoughts come rushing back one after the other, there are no sad ones that come to my mind. Is it that bad things don’t happen when it rains? I am sure that’s not the case but somehow in the little world inside my head, rain is the harbinger of all things good.
Even as I write this, the clouds are starting to clear a bit and odd rays of sunshine are peeking through. I hope this will pass and there is more to come. Sorry all ye English people!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Hop, Skip and a New Life!
I am back. I suppose you notice that but I just like to reinforce these things!
So I guess I should first recapitulate the chunk of my life that I have skipped between the last post and today – for the benefit of the stray reader who isn’t family or friend and therefore not privy to the goings on around here and actually gives two hoots about what’s been up with me. Ok let’s see – it’s been about a year and a half – a lot has happened in the time. On the professional front - I quit a job, took up another one, quit that and am now headed towards newer and hopefully greener pastures. We’ll see how that turns out. On the personal front – I got engaged and am soon to get married – and that’s a whole other blog post so I will leave it at that and shall come back to the details another time. As for the rest – life has been the same – I still live out of a suitcase, I still can’t cook and I still watch every movie that gets released.
And now that we are done with the flashback-in-a-nutshell, let’s shift focus and zoom in on the future – it’s time for the new year resolutions (ok ok its way past the time – but I made them earlier – I am only writing about them now!). Here’s my wishlist for 2008:
1. Stop being scared of taking risks professionally – will have a husband soon who will feed me (and finance my shoe-buying) if all goes wrong.
2. Stop eating junk all the time. And as much as this pains my heart – drastically reduce consumption of the sweet stuff.
3. Exercise (just so you know – this resolution is broken already)
4. Write more often – on the blog and otherwise.
5. Learn two important being-married type things, i.e. tying a sari and making rotis/ parathas at home.
That’s my modest list of ambitions for this year. We’ll see how it turns out when we take stock later.
For now that’s it. But I’m not done yet. There is much to write about and I will get to it – much more frequently than the last time around - so you can check back before 2009! :-)
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Eulogy
Have you ever wondered about how a change invariably feels much more enormous when it is thrust upon you rather than being of your own choice? That’s a prime thought on my mind these days as I go through decidedly one of the larger career upheavals that I am likely to see in my life. Before you start getting wicked ideas about pink slips and job losses, I’ll clarify that it’s nothing of the sort. Not even close really. And if I speak or write about it, it almost seems trivial – but it isn’t really for the 60 odd people affected by it in one way or the other – mentally, logistically, psychologically.
The funny thing is that a lot of the sixty were probably thinking voluntarily as well of the changes that have now become inevitable. It would have just been a matter of time – giving or taking a few months. But when it’s not a conscious choice but rather a choice shoved upon you seemingly unceremoniously, the reactions to it are poles apart from what they would have otherwise been. The discomfort arising from the unknown, indefinite, unspecified is extremely stark.
The other interesting thing was how the responses to the news changed as each day passed by – from shocked numbness on day 1 to it’s-really-not-such-a-big-deal by day 4 – and a roller coaster of an emotional journey in between. Goes to prove that time is not just the best healer but also the best indolence inducing drug.
For me – in a nutshell – the last two weeks have been a jolt back to reality – a little shove to remind me that maybe I was getting too comfortable too fast.
And so life goes on. Adios GRSS.
The funny thing is that a lot of the sixty were probably thinking voluntarily as well of the changes that have now become inevitable. It would have just been a matter of time – giving or taking a few months. But when it’s not a conscious choice but rather a choice shoved upon you seemingly unceremoniously, the reactions to it are poles apart from what they would have otherwise been. The discomfort arising from the unknown, indefinite, unspecified is extremely stark.
The other interesting thing was how the responses to the news changed as each day passed by – from shocked numbness on day 1 to it’s-really-not-such-a-big-deal by day 4 – and a roller coaster of an emotional journey in between. Goes to prove that time is not just the best healer but also the best indolence inducing drug.
For me – in a nutshell – the last two weeks have been a jolt back to reality – a little shove to remind me that maybe I was getting too comfortable too fast.
And so life goes on. Adios GRSS.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Meeting Mr. Khan
Yesterday I loved Manhattan more than usual. Yesterday I saw Shah Rukh Khan.
Some things would make you happy no matter what your age – they would bring the same joy if you were 10 years younger or 10 years older. And when you actually do cross paths with one of them – well – you feel exultant. And so did I.
I rushed from office when I heard he was shooting near my house by the Hudson. They were wrapping up and I saw him walk down and get into his car. And I saw him from a distance of less than a foot. I waved to him and he waved back. I felt joyful like a little kid. Not because I am a crazed fan. I do think he is great but I am not one of those star crazy people who live in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their favourite celebrity walking down the road.
But some things are symbolic. Shah Rukh Khan is similar – he embodies Hindi cinema for me – he became a star when I was growing up, he came out of nowhere and conquered the country, he proved that dreams come true and successes are not made in heaven but created by people, he established his own rules and had people playing by them. He brought hope to millions. And icons of your youth remain with you forever as the symbol of things that you went through as you were growing up. For this reason, seeing Shah Rukh Khan even today, when I am much older and, I like to believe, wiser, is still a big deal.
Besides, it is always wonderful to come across small things that make you happy unconditionally. All troubles were forgotten for those few moments, my day seemed brighter and the world seemed a more beautiful place. Which is always good.
Some things would make you happy no matter what your age – they would bring the same joy if you were 10 years younger or 10 years older. And when you actually do cross paths with one of them – well – you feel exultant. And so did I.
I rushed from office when I heard he was shooting near my house by the Hudson. They were wrapping up and I saw him walk down and get into his car. And I saw him from a distance of less than a foot. I waved to him and he waved back. I felt joyful like a little kid. Not because I am a crazed fan. I do think he is great but I am not one of those star crazy people who live in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their favourite celebrity walking down the road.
But some things are symbolic. Shah Rukh Khan is similar – he embodies Hindi cinema for me – he became a star when I was growing up, he came out of nowhere and conquered the country, he proved that dreams come true and successes are not made in heaven but created by people, he established his own rules and had people playing by them. He brought hope to millions. And icons of your youth remain with you forever as the symbol of things that you went through as you were growing up. For this reason, seeing Shah Rukh Khan even today, when I am much older and, I like to believe, wiser, is still a big deal.
Besides, it is always wonderful to come across small things that make you happy unconditionally. All troubles were forgotten for those few moments, my day seemed brighter and the world seemed a more beautiful place. Which is always good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)