Candid Confessions

TQM for life: 11 steps to a “world-class” you !!!

2010-02-11T10:36:00.000-08:00

Pre-script: Before you get any ideas about the title, let me clarify that this blog is not about any fancy makeover mantra or philosophical bullsh*t that I’m throwing around. It’s something that I’ve deeply thought about and applied to myself. And since it’s given me great insights and clarity about myself, I thought of sharing it.

Management lessons are full of a million “models,” whether it’s marketing, leadership, organizational design, or total quality management. However, I mentally subject all these models to a simple personal “acid-test.” I test whether I can apply a model to my own life and benefit out of it. And I endorse only those models that pass this test. What I have described below is a modification of a TQM model that I’ve recently been taught, i.e., 11 steps to building a world-class organization. I was pondering about this model on my way back home from college, subjecting it to the “acid-test.” And the revelation that this model brought about was unexplainable. It was a “Eureka” feeling!

I’ve used certain examples from my own life to illustrate each of the steps of this model. And I have two people to thank for this: first, Dr. P.N. Mukherjee, the creator of this model and a noted TQM expert; and second, Mithun Sridharan, a friend and mentor who writes brilliantly on management and has been my inspiration throughout.

Here are the eleven steps to a world-class you:

1. Conduct a TQM overview.

A TQM review is a general review of the systems and procedures currently in place in an organization. By this, I mean a review of your current habits, your lifestyle, your state of mind, your problems etc. For example, my TQM overview is as follows.

Professional:
Student of MBA, good academic performance, secured employment with one of the most reputed companies in my field, satisfactory starting salary, highly ambitious
Personal:
Good social circle, but unable to stay regularly in touch with everyone; forget birthdays and anniversaries often; unmarried and not dating anyone either
Physical:
Chubby, need to exercise regularly and watch what I eat; need to take care of my skin; no other health problems as of now
Mental:
Stress levels towering; often forget things; sleepless at times; can get very nervous at times
Habits & Hobbies:
Sleep late, get up early; not organized; eggetarian; enjoy an occasional drink; like cooking and mixing drinks; coffee-lover etc.

Although this is not an exhaustive list, it should give you a fair idea of what is to be done. You can have more heads than the ones I’ve considered. Just be ruthlessly honest and critical about yourself while doing this because this step is the foundation. And a weak foundation only means a shaky edifice!

2. Set your mission.

A mission statement is based on your raison d’etre, i.e., the purpose of your existence, and the values that guide your life. It tells you what and where you want to be, the place that you want to occupy in this world. This can be really difficult to coin. I’m still working on mine, but for illustration, I’m quoting the current draft of my mission statement.

“To lead a physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially sound conscientious life with the right balance between professional and personal commitments”

If you arrive at your mission statement in the first go, you’re either a genius or very lucky. It’s perfectly normal to struggle with this one. I’m still struggling with mine. Take your time to arrive at this one. It’s never too late!

3. Identify your customers/stakeholders.

A lot has been yapped about the importance of being customer-focussed. To translate this into your personal life, it’s important to know that the very social nature of man makes him and his existence dependent on others and others’ perception of him. Hence, identify the stakeholders in your life. These are people who really mean a lot to you and who you mean a lot to. Guard yourself against including anyone and everyone in this list. The list can ideally include your family, your spouse, a few close friends and work colleagues, your immediate boss and subordinates etc. But the most important entry in this list should be “YOU.” Rely on your judgment and ask whether the person you want to include is truly worthy of inclusion in your list. Be very selective here because you cannot please everyone!

4. Identify customer/stakeholder needs.

This one’s relatively easy if you really know your stakeholders well. However, beware of making any assumptions here or of taking anyone for granted, especially your family. They have expectations from you but don’t often say that out loud. For example, I have stayed away from my family for almost 9 years now, and soon, I’ll have to move to where my job is and later, with my spouse. But my family never complains that I’ve not been spending enough time with them, although deep down, they feel I should. That’s their need. Another example is of my personal need of excellence in academics. Hence, to achieve that, I must continually work hard, attend classes regularly etc. Similarly, identify the needs and expectations that your stakeholders have of you. Further, also prioritize the same. Understand that you will have to make tradeoffs. For example, my family’s need is that of having me spend more quality time with them. And one of their other needs is that of me achieving excellence academically. But I have limited time during which I can either attend college and study or visit them. Hence, performing well academically becomes my priority (because it’s important to two stakeholders, my family and me). If, however, you can satisfy all needs of all stakeholders, then that’s great! But more often than not, that’s rather impossible.

5. Define critical processes and measures.

This is self-explanatory. What are the critical things that you HAVE to do if you have to satisfy your stakeholders’ needs? Again, prioritization and tradeoffs are required here. For example, if one of my needs is to be physically and mentally sound, then the various processes by which I could achieve it would be to exercise regularly, eat what is right, meditate every day, join yoga classes, stay away from junk food, sleep for 6-8 hours a day etc. However, if I set out to do all of these, then I will not have any time to work and be professionally successful. Moreover, I’ll die if I give up on junk food completely! So, I decide to exercise regularly, sleep for 6-8 hours a day and eat what is right, but also indulge myself occasionally with junk food in moderation. These are the absolutely critical processes. And the measures would follow: e.g., exercising for at least 45 minutes, 6 days a week; eating out not more than twice a month etc. Remember to remember that you have only 24 hours in a day and only 60 minutes in every hour!

6. Set your vision.

A vision statement is an overarching entity that includes all organizational goals and targets. Similarly, for you, the vision would include all the goals that you’ve set for yourself, professionally as well as personally. It is needless to say that your vision has to be in line with your mission and hence, your values. For example, I’ve stated my mission earlier. Now, to me, being physically sound means to be healthy, not overweight, and free of any debilitating health problems. Similarly, being mentally, emotionally, and financially sound means to be free of stress and stress-induced mental problems, to have an understanding and loving partner and a small and happy family of my own, and to earn enough money to be capable of providing my family a comfortable life. However, my values include no shortcuts, integrity and delivering what I promise. Hence, I will not go on crash diets to lose weight, I will not earn money through wrong means, and I will not be disloyal to my partner. My current vision statement is as follows.

“To be physically and mentally fit with a BMI of 23 or less and no health or mental problems, gainfully employed at a leadership level with a pharmaceutical multinational of global repute, and happily married with a beautiful family, by 2015”

Your vision will change as you grow older, simply because the definitions of each of the components of your mission statement change with time. For example, when I turn 40, my vision would not be to be gainfully employed at a leadership level with a pharmaceutical multinational of global repute; it would probably have changed to having a successful management consulting firm of my own. However, the mission and values would remain unchanged, i.e., I would still earn money the right way and be financially sound!

7. Develop a strategic plan.

If you are a student or practitioner of management, this is a cakewalk. You must’ve already made a million strategies! Once you know your mission, values and vision, then this will follow. I recommend the use of two models here: a SWOT analysis and an OGSM framework. A SWOT analysis is just comparing your internal strengths and weaknesses against the opportunities and threats of the external environment that you are operating in. The OGSM framework simply stands for “Objectives, Goals, Strategies, and Measures.” I must give the credit for this framework to Prof. Praneet Singh, one of the sharpest, most brilliant, and simplest individuals I know, adore, and practically worship! An example of the OGSM framework is given below.

Objective
1. To be happily married with a beautiful family by 2015
Goals
1. To find a compatible, understanding, and loving partner
2. To have a lovely, but not extravagant wedding
3. To have a beautiful, healthy baby
Strategies
1. Pro-actively search for a partner
2. Have frank discussions on important issues before deciding to check compatibility
3. Save money every month for the wedding
4. Plan the family carefully
Measures
1. Finish partner search by 2011
2. Save at least 10 lac rupees for the wedding (get your partner to share the expenses) ;-)
3. Get married by 2013
4. Have a baby by 2015

Disclaimer: The above framework is only for illustrative purposes. Please do not misconstrue it as the author’s own plans! Also, the above framework is not exhaustive. It can include more objectives and goals. However, it is advisable to sparingly exercise your freedom here!

8. Develop an annual plan for the coming year (s).

Again, this is nothing new for “managers.” You may do it your own way, but I personally use the “3-horizon” framework, which is from McKinsey, but has been taught to me by Prof. Praneet Singh. The framework helps you to prioritize and organize your goals and strategies typically over 3 horizons, i.e., short-term, medium-term, and long-term. Each term can range from 1-3 years. I guess this shouldn’t be too difficult if you’ve got the OGSM right. You must then translate your strategies into workable actions and steps. For example, one of my strategies in my OGSM is to save money every month for the wedding. Hence, I must plan my monthly expenses and taxes, make smart investments, try and do some additional freelance work on the weekends to earn some extra money etc.

9. Revise roles & responsibilities.

This is bound to happen as you evolve through the stages of life, even if you don’t consciously plan for it. However, planning for it equips you better to deal with the changes. It also puts you in control rather than having the situation control you. Hence, in order to achieve your objectives, plan the necessary role changes and develop yourself to fit these roles and carry out the requisite responsibilities. For example, if one of my goals is to have a happy married life and a beautiful family, then I must be prepared to play the roles of a dutiful partner and a loving mother and to fulfil the responsibilities associated with these roles. One of the qualities that I need to develop for these roles is patience. Hence, since I anticipate these role changes, I must pro-actively develop the qualities required for me to satisfactorily fulfil my responsibilities in these roles.

10. Form a steering committee to set the change strategy.

When an organization is slated to change, it is often mandatory to set up such a committee that will drive the change and will help steer the company forward along the new route. The steering committee provides direction and support to the organization as it goes through the change. However, in personal life, the direction is provided by you, yourself, and your near and dear ones can provide you the requisite support to help you undergo the change.

11. Conduct annual reviews.

“What gets measured gets done,” goes one of the favourite lines used by management practitioners. I believe that subconsciously, we all do this. However, it is mostly post mortem. If we could do a continuous review, it would make a big difference. Hence, keep tracking your progress towards your goals at regular intervals and modify your path if necessary. For example, if one of my goals is to be physically fit and free of any health problems, then half-yearly blood examinations would be important in tracking my progress, besides the regular exercise and eating right. If my blood reports aren’t normal, then I’d modify my strategy (probably take yoga classes) to try and get the blood reports to normal.

Post-script: This may seem long and complicated, but it’s only because I’ve tried to explain things in detail and illustrated wherever possible. It’s easy and achingly simple to implement and the clarity it provides is phenomenal. And this I can say from personal experience. Again, let me clarify that this method isn’t fool-proof, exhaustive, or a magic makeover mantra. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, tried this out on yourself, and have benefitted from it, I’d consider myself blessed and would like to hear about it from you. Do drop me a line!

Every child needs a family! And we are family!

2010-01-16T07:38:00.000-08:00

Conversation 1:
“Ma, is Abha adopted?”
“Yes, my dear, she is adopted.”
“Ma, what does adopted mean?”
“Sweetie, sometimes, God needs to call some mummies and daddies of little kids to his home, up there in the sky, for some important work. So when the mummies and daddies go away, there’s no one to take care of those little children, isn’t it? Who will give them milk and cookies, who will take them to school, and who will narrate stories to them at night? So, to take care of them, God sends other mummies and daddies who take these little children to their homes and become their new mummies and daddies. That’s how children are adopted.”
“Doesn’t God send back the mummies and daddies he’s called to his home? There’ll be so many mummies and daddies up there... it’ll be so crowded. And what does God do with so many mummies and daddies around?”
“God’s home is as big as his heart... there’s always place for everyone there. And there’s always a lot of work up there. So everyone is occupied.”
“Ma, what if God has some important work for you and Daddy also? Will you leave me here and go away?”
“No dear. Ma and Daddy will never leave you alone. We’ll tell God to find someone else to do his work. Nothing is more important to us than you. Now hurry up or you’ll be late for school.”

Conversation 2:
“Neha, I cannot believe I’m having this conversation with you. Why do you want to get into this mess of adopting a child? Do you know how tedious it is to go about that process? The bureaucracy, bribery, paperwork, everything... and above all, the responsibility of bringing up a child... what will our relatives say? Are you aware of the society that we live in? You are just out of your mind. We’ve always bowed down to your wishes. You’ve studied enough, now you have a good job, you are 26, and I think it’s time we get you married. Don’t get into this business of adoption, and don’t even get such crazy ideas. Adoption is a thing of the West. It’s allowed there. Here, it’s not. You are a cultured girl from a respected family. Behave like one.”
“But Ma... isn’t it a great thing if I can give meaning to the life of an orphan? It’s something I really believe in. I’m sure our society’s outlook towards adoption will change some day.”
“Let that happen when it’s supposed to happen. I don’t want you to be leading that change. Don’t think of yourself as some great revolutionary. Your daddy and I want to see you married and happily settled. Don’t you think we deserve even this little happiness as your parents?”
“Ma... don’t start the emotional blackmail again....”
“Case closed. Promise me you will never bring up this issue. Now have your dinner and go to sleep. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Conversation 3:
“Are you f***ing crazy? What do you mean by ‘let us adopt a child’? Are you nuts? Adoption used to be for couples who could not have a baby. Even those couples now go in for other methods of having a baby. We are a perfectly okay couple and it is time for us to have a baby. Then why do you want us to adopt a child? Do you want everyone to think we are not biologically capable of having a child?”
“Mitesh, I have no doubts about our biological capabilities of having a child. All I am saying is let us adopt one child in addition to a child that’s biologically ours. Is that too much to ask for?”
“Do you realize the gravity of what you are asking of me? Have you ever thought of how Ma and Daddy are going to feel about this? All our relatives and friends will tell a thousand stories behind our backs. Look at all our friends. None of them has adopted a child. Why can’t you also think like a normal wife and daughter-in-law? I don’t think I have the time or energy for this now. And I don’t think I will, ever. If you don’t want to have children, then we’ll remain childless. But don’t you dare talk about adoption. Get it?”

It is said that “adoption is not about finding children for families; it’s about finding families for children.” Sounds good in a lecture or a book, but do people really believe in adoption? My reading is that they don’t. Just like men can go on and on about how women must be encouraged with equal opportunities professionally, but when it comes to the personal lives of these very men, they prefer highly educated “trophy wives” who are expected to only cook, clean, and bear children. Isn’t hypocrisy built into our chromosomes?
The first two conversations are excerpts from personal experience. And I believe that it’s only a matter of time... the last conversation too, I’ll soon be a part of. I’d, however, so love to be proved wrong this time. And all I ask is, “why this attitude towards adoption, as though it is a crime?” While on a holiday last month, I was fortunate enough to have met a couple from Spain, who’d adopted a girl child from India. They also have another little girl, their biological child. And their eyes were so full of love for their daughters that there was no room or trace of any discrimination! Unfortunately, I don’t know of anyone else in my social circle who’s adopted a child.
Another question pops into my mind: why has the media generally shown preference to publishing sex scandals of film actors over publishing stories of children adopted by them? Sushmita Sen and Sandeep Soparkar are apt examples. Why can’t we really take up the cause of adoption, thereby solving our nation’s population problem to some extent and giving meaning to a child’s life at the same time? Why can’t we be thankful to the Almighty for having given us such lovely parents, and, in turn, try and help those who haven’t been quite as fortunate? Why can’t we open our hearts, our minds, ourselves to this world? Why can’t we be slightly more inclusive, slightly more human?

Isn’t it time?

Waiting...

2009-12-14T10:05:00.000-08:00

Scorched, scathed, scarred, seared
Withering away, I endlessly wait...
For the first drop of love, for his first kiss
To sanctify me, to bring me to life
That my dainty form may metamorphose
From girlhood’s bloom to womanhood’s prime...

Elections: a first-hand account

2009-10-13T05:18:00.000-07:00

13th October 2009

4.25 pm

I travelled 2 hours this morning from Andheri (where I am temporarily staying) to Dombivli (where my name is registered on the electoral roll) to cast a vote, for no individual, no party whatsoever! Yes, I wanted to cast a “Protest vote” because I do not deem any of the candidates fit even for candidature, leave alone governance. I reached the poll booth (Saraswati Vidyalaya, Dombivli West, District Thane) and as per the instructions in the newspaper, I went to the presiding officer and demanded the form in which the “No vote” needs to be entered against my name. As I had expected, the officer said that the above form is not available at the poll booth. I then demanded a note in writing from him stating the non-availability of the form despite my willingness to vote, which, he refused to handover. I was not surprised. I then demanded to speak to the Zonal Officer (name and telephone number not revealed due to obvious reasons) about this issue. She assured me that despite the non-availability of the above form, I could write down my “Protest vote” and the reason for the same against my name in register 17-C (or 17-A: she herself appeared to be confused about the same). Otherwise, I would not be able to cast my vote. Left with no option, I went ahead and wrote down the fact that I DO NOT WANT TO VOTE FOR ANY OF THE CANDIDATES BECAUSE I DO NOT DEEM ANY OF THEM FIT FOR CANDIDATURE in the above register and signed against my electoral roll number.

The catch here is
1. I am not sure if the register in which I have entered a “Protest Vote” would even reach the election office. However, I am 99% (if not 100%) sure that my vote is going to be personated by someone else. That is how much faith I have in our system.

2. I am 99% (if not 100%) sure that the above form was available with the presiding officer. Only, he chose not to give it to me because of obvious intentions. Again, that is how much faith I have in the people who are running the system.

3. There was a so-called self-proclaimed helper at the poll booth who was speaking to various officers on my behalf. She even noted down my electoral roll number. She, of course, is an active worker for a political party that has fielded a candidate from our area. I am 99% (if not 100%) sure that my vote will be personated and will go to the candidate from the “helper’s” party. That’s how much faith I have in our own fellow countrymen.

PS: I may be banging my head against the wall when I say I am trying to fight for change. People say all this happens only in movies, and looks good only in ads. I am only trying to say that these movies are not just for commercial success. These ads are not just to publicize any brand. A revolution is possible. And it will happen. I believe so. Even if the system that I am myself a part of sucks! Bigtime! And I will continue my fight in my own way. Whether the tide is with or against me!

My A to Z! :)

2009-08-21T05:04:00.000-07:00

Pre-script: The inspiration for this blog lies here.

How many times have you set an alarm and ended up getting up an hour after the alarm went off? How many times have you struggled to even get yourself out of bed and go to work? How many times have you wrapped up a bath in 2 minutes flat because you were running late for work? How many times have you walked out of the house with a folded slice of bread in one hand, your cell-phone in the other, your mouth full of a bite and your tongue struggling to move within as you blabber instructions? How many times have you cursed fellow drivers, rickshaw-wallahs, the municipal authorities, and your fate while driving down to work? How many times have you had to face the unfair wrath of a tyrannical boss first thing in the morning? How many times have you spent the day sulking about your boss, workplace, and colleagues? How many times have you thought of committing suicide or killing someone for an assignment not completed or non-cooperation? How many times have you skipped lunch due to presentations or pending work? How many times have you felt like strangulating or smothering you boss to death? How many times have you returned home, shoulders drooping, as though your shoulders are burdened with the weight of the entire world? How many times have you had trouble meeting deadlines, for no fault of yours? How many times have you had to forego an outing, movie, or family function for work? How many times have you had to stay up longer than midnight to complete assignments? How many times have you gazed in wonderment at the calendar at how fast time has flown by? How many times have you felt like you are a robot, when, essentially, you’re still flesh and blood?

Phew! That’s too many questions! And uncomfortable ones! No one really wants to go through any of these! But then, that’s life, isn’t it? Do we really have a choice? Frankly, I wish we do. And deep down, I think we don’t. Sounds ominous, doesn’t it? Here’s some consolation: we’re all sailing (read sinking) in the same boat!

Before I write any further, let me acknowledge the fact that I am no spiritual guru who will preach endlessly on how to live a meaningful life. Neither am I a Yogi who claims to heal people through Yoga. I did not dream of God Himself blessing me and bestowing me with magical powers. Nor am I looking at making a smart buck from unsuspecting people by showering upon them bits of wisdom. There are life’s lessons that I’ve had to learn the hard way. There’re things I wish I’d never done. There are experiences that I wish I could rub off the slate of my life. There’re also things I wish I’d done. I only wish to share them so that a few people like me don’t end up committing the same blunders that I did. Humble as it may sound, that truly is my intention of writing this piece.

Here, I present to you my own A-to-Z mantra! These won’t guarantee success, fame, or money! These are just some basic fundas that I follow. If, however, these can be of any help to anyone, it’ll give me immense satisfaction! Read on! :)

Accept yourself, others, and failures. Nobody’s perfect, nothing’s perfect. But imperfection is what makes things and life interesting!
Believe that everything that happens is only for the best. Even if it sucks, bigtime!
Cry your heart out, when you feel like. But don’t waste your tears.
Dream and fantasize—you can do all that you ever wanted to, in your dreams... and plus you never know when it’d come true!
Enjoy every moment to the fullest. Like you enjoy every sip of your favourite drink! Till the last drop!
Follow your heart. It acts crazy most of the time, but it’s worth listening to!
Grab each moment that you get to spend with family or a loved one. You’ll never get enough of them. Ever!
Hope, even against hope. Hope sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible!
Inspire others—with your words, your deeds, your behaviour. Let people want to be like you. Imitation is indeed the best form of praise!
Jealousy never did anyone any good. Be happy for others as you are for yourself. Feels good within!
Keep your temper under control. It’s good for your heart, your blood vessels, and many other parts of your body (such as the brain, you pervert)! And for the people around you as well!
Love unconditionally. You might end up breaking you heart, but love anyway. Simply because love is beautiful!
Move on. Don’t sit and brood over something that didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. There’s much more to look forward to from life. Those who truly love you want to see you happy!
Nurture a hobby. Paint, sing, dance, play... let yourself loose! You might end up creating a million-dollar masterpiece!
Open your mind... to the plethora of possibilities! You will surprise yourself with your potential!
Praise a job well done. A few words of appreciation will not cost you anything!
Question things if you are not convinced. Even if you think you’ll not get an answer!
Reward yourself, for every little achievement. Like I will, after I complete writing this blog, with a steaming, freshly brewed cuppa!
Smile. As much as you can. Day and night, all the year round, in happiness and sorrow, just like that... simply smile! Period.
Take a break when required! Give yourself some rest. The world can wait. Or leave, if it is in a hurry!
Understand that you are unique! Different from everyone else in this world! One of a kind! Wow, that’s huge!
Visualize what you want to be. You’ll end up being it... sooner! Oh, by the way, I am visualizing myself as a multi-millionaire right now!
Wait and watch! Sometimes, it’s the best thing to do! Time is a great healer. Patience really pays, although not in cash!
XL (for the not-so-motivated, read excel) in everything you do! Even if it is cooking up a bowl of instant noodles! Now that sounds pretty achievable, doesn’t it?
Yes, I can! That may sound similar to what a Black American President propagated, but it works! Believe in yourself, in your dreams, in your ability to achieve. Then as they say, impossible is nothing!
Zzzzzzz.... that’s neither how I’m feeling after typing this, nor how you’re feeling after reading this... just a piece of advice: never compromise on your sleep. Even if you’ve to take a day off, bunk a class, miss a movie... sleep is blissful! Now who doesn’t agree with that?

Post-script: Hope that was of some use to you! Or made you smile! Or at least made a good read! Anyway, thanks for stopping by! Cheers!

FROM FAT TO PHAT !!! ;)

2009-07-21T07:56:00.000-07:00

Prologue
This is for all those out there who’ve been struggling with overweight. Trust me when I say, I understand!

July 20, 2003
Shopping for clothes was fast turning into a futile, depressing exercise. All the while, I’d been getting my outfits tailored to my size. However, the recent spurt in the happily-eating-and-not-exercising-enough obese population gave me a new lease of life. After all, it felt nice to know that I was not God’s chosen one! This morning, I walked into a mall that was dotted with renowned apparel stores and looked promising. Ah! Finally I’d get to wear readymade clothes of my size! Was I excited or what?! However, the day turned out to be a major dampener because I could not find any clothes of my size. The seemingly huge flashy stores stocked clothes suitable only for the malnourished population. Waist sizes ranging from 24 to 34?! Ridiculous! That’d be the size of my upper arm! I was a chubby size 42. Dejected and depressed, I walked into the food court. I scanned the many options, but settled for what seemed the healthiest out of all—Subway! But of course with cheese and extra mayo! When my mood was sufficiently stable, I decided to go home. On my way out of the mall, I noticed Westside (a popular apparel-store chain in India). “How does it matter... it must be like the stores I just visited,” I thought. Reluctantly, however, thanks to some good sense, I walked in. One of the helpers greeted me and asked me what I was looking for. “Clothes of my size?!” I asked, unsure. “Oh, certainly ma’am, this way please!” he replied. Or did I hear him right? I followed him in a daze and sure enough, he took me to a rack that had clothes of my size—XXL! My heart leapt with joy. There were exactly 3 kurtis on that rack and soon enough, all of them were in my shopping bag! I couldn’t afford to let go of this opportunity. God had finally decided to bless me.

July 20, 2009
Westside sale at last! I’d finally been able to snatch some time from my schedule to shop for new outfits. My wardrobe was crying for some new clothes! Not wasting any time, I walked straight to the clothes rack. “May I help you ma’am?” a helper asked. “Well, yeah, clothes of my size?” I asked. “Sure, this way ma’am,” he replied. I picked up a dozen items, including shirts, skirts, kurtas, jeans, and trousers, and carried them along to the fitting rooms. I tried them on, one by one, and fussed all over, rejecting the ones that didn’t look very nice. I was spoilt for choice. And I was thoroughly enjoying it! The reason? I was a healthy size “M.” And waist? Take a guess! Size 34! J Not something to boast about, probably, but at least I fit into the 24-34 range (so what if it’s the upper limit of the range). I felt blessed!

Epilogue
My journey from XXL to M has been a long, tiring one. I have been struggling with my overweight, and have experimented a lot with various diets and exercise regimes. I am still struggling, because I am not yet there. I still need to lose more weight. But I want to take this opportunity to reach out to all those who are struggling like me. Overweight is a big problem, and please do as much as you can, to get back into shape. It’ll make you feel healthier and good about yourself and will boost up your energy levels. It’ll also keep you away from diabetes and heart problems. And the icing on the cake—feels heavenly when smaller sizes fit!

Oh, and by the way, PHAT stands for “pretty, hot and tempting!” ;)

My lil' gurl!

2009-06-07T07:19:00.000-07:00

I cannot forget the pride in my heart and the tears of joy in my eyes as I bade her goodbye at the airport that day. My daughter, now a 25-year-old young lady, was going away to another city on an internship for two months. There was my independent, confident, assertive daughter waving at me from the escalator as she got ready to board the plane. She was embarking upon a journey to prove her mettle and make a mark. I patted myself for having done a fine job of bringing her up. She was just like I’d wanted her to be; probably, everything that I never was, and much more. She had learnt to fly... I’d given her wings. She was now ready to fly away... fend for herself, build her own nest, have her own family. My little girl had grown up.
The next moment, she was gone. It was time for me to go back to the car for the drive back home. I wanted to make sure if she was okay in the lounge. I contemplated calling her, but decided otherwise. She’d manage. I should let her go now, I said to myself. My legs ached... I was growing old. I smiled to myself. And suddenly, a sense of emptiness engulfed me. I walked with a heavy heart, holding back my tears, back to where the car had been parked. Just when my cell-phone buzzed... a message! I frowned. The last thing I’d wanted was someone from work messaging me at that moment. Reluctantly, I took out my cell-phone from my bag and looked at it. It was from my daughter.

“Hi ma! M waiting 4 my flight n havin our favourite Latte at the airport lounge. Missin u already ma! Thanx for always being there! I’ll b back soon! Tc n keep smiling! Luv ya! Ur lil’ gurl!

I smiled. She’d always be my little girl, won’t she? I burst out into tears, but there was a smile on my face! Yes, she indeed was my little girl...

Love

2009-04-08T09:51:00.000-07:00

PS: I set out to make a video for my poem. However, I wanted to make this a separate post. It's just some pictures that I liked.. and I thought they suited the theme... Not very good at videos, but tried... Waiting for your comments.. thanks for stopping by! :)

The wedding

2009-04-08T01:32:00.000-07:00

In the light of the moon,
Under a star-studded sky,
On a sandy aisle
Hand-in-hand, they walked…
The cool of the water
Against their feet,
The warmth they saw
In each other’s eyes…
Her face veiled by a few loose strands,
Her dark tresses—her trail;
The red of her cheeks,
The white of her skirt,
She looked every inch
The radiant bride!
His eyes held a promise of
Togetherness forever…
His smile, comforting,
His demeanor, protective,
Always by her side,
Her prince charming!
Her anklet tinkled
As she matched each step
With his, as they walked the aisle
To the harmony of
The soft sea breeze and
The rustling waves…
At a rocky altar by the shore,
They stood
Holding each others’ hands,
To pledge to each other
A lifetime of togetherness!
“I do,” he said…
“I do,” she said…
And Divinity pronounced them man and wife!
Her eyes closed as he touched her lips,
With his own;
His arms wrapped around her…
It was time to embark upon
The journey of life
Together… forever…

PS: Wrote it on impulse... a video will be up too... soon!

To a friend

2009-04-06T02:41:00.000-07:00

I wish I could dare

To define in words

My friend...

The relation we share...

I know not how you look,

I know not how you sound;

All I know is that in you

A heart of gold, I found.

Nursing my wounds, I shed

Silent tears and wept..

For my heart, a someone,

Shattered... and left...

Little did I know, all alone

In agony and despair

I'd bump into someone

Who really does care..

Miles apart we may be, to each other

Unseen, unheard, unknown..

But with you around, I know for sure..

Never ever will I be alone.

You are so special, friend, that

To define in words

The relation we share...

Would be so unfair!

PS: This is for each and every one of my friends who have been extremely supportive and have helped me overcome the pain I was going through. Just my way of saying thanks! For bringing back a smile on my face, and for giving me hope... of a better life! I love you all... :)

Jaane jaa...

2009-02-23T06:57:00.000-08:00

Jaane jaa
Sun meri sada
Paas aa
Tujhe hai meri mohabbat ka vaasta… oh
Jaane jaa
Jo mujhe tu mila
Kafila
Zindagi ka jaise meri mujhe mil gaya
Jaana
Tujh se hi to hai
Zamee aur aasmaa mera
Tu hi hai mere liye jahan
Meri zindagi…
Oh jaana
Tu hi meri manzil
Tu hi toh hai raasta mera
Tu hi hai mere liye khuda
Meri bandagi…
Meri har khushi hai…
Jaane jaa
Sun meri sada
Paas aa
Tujhe hai meriii mohabbat ka… vaasta.

Meri saanson mein ab teri hi khushbu hai
Meri aankhon mein bas chehra tera
Dil dhadakta hai ab toh bas tere liye
Tu jannat meri, oh jaane jaaa…
Tujhe hai meriii mohabbat ka vaasta
Oh meri jaane jaa
Mere kareeb aa
Kaafiya
Teri meri mohabbat ka ban gaya
Oh jaana
Faasle mita
Jo hain apne darmiyaan
Sun mere dil ki yeh zubaan
Jo hai keh rahi…
Oh jaana… aa… aa..
Tujh se hi to hai
Zamee aur aasmaa mera
Tu hi hai mere liye khuda
Meri zindagi…
Meri har khushi hai…
Oh jaane jaa
Sun meri sada
Paas aa
Tujhe hai meriii mohabbat ka … vaasta.
(PS: This is a song that I wrote for a contest. You can find the track here. The tune's been composed by someone else, I have only given it words. Try and hum it along with the tune and give me your feedback. The song is very close to my heart. And I want to thank my cousin Mayur and his fiancee Shefali for their support and inspiration. There's one more person who's inspired this one... I can't tell him... he should just understand!)

Etched in memory

2009-02-16T04:07:00.001-08:00

Under the blanket of the dark sky
Lit up by stars
They lay next to each other
Their hearts thumping wildly
Wanting to be one but holding back…

The world was fast asleep, and the wind
Hummed a mellow tune
Their chests heaved together
They breathed as though they were one
So close, yet so far apart…

They pulled closer… and closer still, until
They could hear each other sigh
He looked at her,
She looked away
Their lips trembling to meet…

And then…

Their lips, parched for love, finally met
In a kiss so divine
Their hearts, united, beating as one
Their breaths, in harmony with each other
Their bodies, entwined…

Crazily passionate, hungry for love
Their lips, locked
Their souls, one
They lay in each other’s arms
And let themselves drift away to sleep…

And the world around was in a deep slumber
Oblivious, unaware
Of the union, the communion
The moment, the night,
That magical night…

(PS: This is NOT a work of fiction or imagination. I was afraid that the memories of the few special moments of that night would fade away with time. This is an attempt to capture those moments in words so that the memories of that night remain with me forever. Dedicated to him...)

The night (Part I)

2009-01-12T05:01:00.000-08:00

“The slow local for Andheri leaving at 11 hours and 40 minutes is cancelled today,” said the announcer’s voice. Neetu looked at the watch on her wrist, wondering why its hands weren’t moving. The rains had taken a toll on her “water-proof” watch as well. She was on her way from a not-so-good meeting—her proposal hadn’t gone down too well with the clients and they had wanted to negotiate further. In what followed, time flew by and it was almost eleven when she realized that she had to go home. The clients were willing to come down to her office the next day for further negotiations—the only positive outcome of the entire meeting—and hence, she took off. It was raining, which implied that there would be a problem finding a local train to get back home at such a late hour.

Neetu looked at the people around her. All the stalls were closed, all benches were occupied with people in deep slumber, and rain drops trickled down from the gaps in the roof. There were not many people on the station tonight, and she wondered why. Probably after the 26th July mayhem, people in Mumbai chose to stay indoors whenever it rained a tad heavier than usual. She turned and…

“Bang!!!”

She’d collided with someone and hurt her nose real hard in the bargain. She looked up at him, irritated, tears blurring her vision, and a hand on her nose, but the guy was quick to respond: “Hey, I’m sorry… I hope I didn’t hurt your nose much! Hey, listen, I’ll call you back...” He hung up, stuffed the cell-phone into his pocket, and got back to Neetu, who, by then, had straightened up; however, all the frustration inside her was boiling and ready to burst out at him.

“Are you ok?” he asked with a concern so genuine that her heart melted.

“Yeah… I am fine,” she replied, suddenly conscious about whether her face would give her emotions away.

“You’re sure? I am extremely sorry… you turned… suddenly and… and my elbow hit your nose I guess…” he said.

“All I can say is that you have a pretty strong elbow,” she blurted, not believing that she'd actually said such a dumb thing!

Amused, he smiled… and all her pain vanished in a trace!! They looked into each others’ eyes and it was as if the world around them had suddenly come to a stand still. For a couple of moments, nothing around them mattered… all that mattered was the look in his eyes… and the tears in hers…

“Hey, I said I’m sorry,” he said, “You okay? You want some water?” he inquired.“No, thank you,” she said. Something was going on inside her mind… her expression changed as she put on a cold look that sounded like a warning to him. One moment, she had been a vulnerable young woman holding his arm, and the very next moment, she was hidden behind a veil, so that he could not look into her heart through her eyes. And then, she started to walk away from him… And as she walked, something tugged at her heart-strings to turn back and look at him… even a fleeting glance…

He saw her walking away, but somewhere deep inside, he hoped she would turn back to look at him. He kept his eyes on her as the distance between them increased from a centimeter to an inch, then a foot, and now, she was almost ten meters apart, hardly visible. He frowned in an attempt to look at her face, trying to gauge her expression. Alas! He could neither see the tears that had welled up in her eyes, nor the pain inside her heart, nor the anguish in her muffled sobs…

His heart ached for her glance. She was not very good to look at, but there was something intriguing about her face that he could not forget…

And ten meters apart, her heart pained at the thought of loving and then losing… again…

She knew exactly how she felt about him…

He had no idea…

She was unwilling and he, unaware…

…to realize and accept that they had actually fallen in love… at first sight... that night...

(To be continued)

I hear thunder

2008-12-20T09:54:00.000-08:00

“I hear thunder…,” sang Babli, her finger on her right ear, showing off her newly acquired knowledge to Khanna uncle. This rhyme was her favorite! Usually, after she had enthralled her audience, emotional aunties would go gaga over her, saying “Oh, so cute!!” Ironically however, she was petrified of the same thunder that was an integral part of her act.

Babli, my younger sister, was four and I, eight. And since her arrival, no one was interested in acknowledging my presence. People were all over her, while I fumed in a corner, consoling myself with my best friend—Barbie. Even mummy and daddy were always on her side, saying “Pinky, you should understand… she’s your little sister.” Unwillingly, I had to surrender. New toys were showered upon her, while I had to plead for the smallest of things. How I wished for a chance to get even with her!

One day in August, we both were at loggerheads with each other, wanting to play with Barbie. “She’s mine,” I said, snatching Barbie away, “don’t you dare touch her!” Babli started crying. I waited for the impending doom—mummy’s thrashing! Fortunately, mummy had to run an errand and didn’t have time to arbitrate. So, we sat far apart, in two corners of the living room, making faces at each other and not talking. Mummy then announced,” Pinky, granny can’t come to baby-sit you today. You have to take care of Babli in my absence. I will be back in an hour. Be a good girl.” And she left. We both were still in our earlier state of war—I kept myself busy combing Barbie’s hair, while Babli engaged herself in some scribbling with crayons.

Dark clouds had gathered in the sky. It was going to rain heavily. Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning followed by a roll of thunder!! And Babli came running to me and hugged me tight, her eyes tightly closed. Reflexively, I hugged her back, as though protecting her, telling her she’s safe and secure in my arms!! She needn’t fear anything or anybody as long as her big sister was with her. That was my moment of realization!! All our tiffs, envy, and the desire to get even were gone. I felt a deep sense of responsibility towards her. We were still lost in our hug when I heard the door unlock and mummy walk in. However, Babli still clung to me. Thunder was all that it took to get us together… forever!!

And as I sat down to type this out, a window popped on my computer: “Di, I think it’s going to rain… I hear thunder.” It was from Babli—now happily married and staying in the other hemisphere. Instinctively, I typed my reply: “Big bear hug!!!”

PS: Especially for my little sister, Mona, who is extremely sweet, super-talented, and has a heart of pure gold!!!

Of dreams, hope, and the rain

2008-12-20T01:22:00.000-08:00

Muthu looked up at the sky with despair—it was a clear blue canvas with no trace of clouds, and that too, in July, when rain-laden clouds usually crowd the sky. He turned his gaze to the ragged plastic bag in his hand—filled with fifty-odd small zip-locked plastic pouches. Finally, he peeked into his shirt pocket—he had nothing!!

The picture of Radha, his little sister—the apple of his eye—flashed through his mind. With whatever little he earned by selling stuff in the local trains, he treated her like a princess. But now, she would be heartbroken because her “Anna” wouldn’t be able to buy her the doll that he had promised.

Muthu sat down on a bench on the platform and remembered the day when Ustaad had called all of them for the “product launch.” He’d held up small zip-locked plastic pouches: “Arey, abhi naya China ka maal aaya hai… mobile cover. Abhi yeh bechneka.” His idea was met with strong opposition by all but one—Muthu. He could make a lot of money on these pouches—the rainy season was approaching and cell-phones were ubiquitous. And he could buy Radha the doll she’d always wanted!!

Muthu was super-excited!! He had even come up with some brilliant lines to impress and entice the buyers: “Nokia, Sony, ya Motolora, baarish mein sabka raksha karo… first-class water-poof mobile cover… China maal, sirf das rupiya.” He had some trouble with pronunciation, but that was more than compensated for by his enthusiasm!!!

And now, the rain-Gods were betraying him. The skies had been clear for days, and he had not sold a single unit. Ustaad was behind his life for money; but more importantly, the doll that Radha had dreamt of for so long would remain a distant dream. How could he fail his little princess like that?

He looked up at the sky again. It had turned dark gray!! As he held out his palm, surprised, the first few drops of rain fell onto it and lit up his face with the most enchanting smile ever. God was listening!! He looked at the local train approaching the platform, stood up, adjusted his slightly loose pants, and ran. As he got in, his heart was brimming with enthusiasm and hope; with a twinkle in his eye and a dimple on his cheek, he smiled and shouted, “Nokia, Sony, ya Motolora…”

Second chance?

2008-12-14T00:21:00.000-08:00

“Listen, you need to open up. Don’t shut yourself out from this world. Just because you had an unsuccessful relationship the first time does not mean it’s the end of the world sweetie…”

That was my best friend, showering upon me some of her worldly wisdom. Probably, I was running out of time. My biological clock had been ticking away, while I was busy with studies and my career. Or should I be bold enough to acknowledge that studies had been a convenient excuse for avoiding the issue of “settling down with a partner?” Like all Indian parents, mine were hunting for a suitable groom for me, because I was of a “marriageable age.” Initially, I protested, only to realize later that they were only wanting to do their job as the parents of a young unmarried girl. I let them indulge themselves in this exercise, on the condition that the final seal of approval would be mine. That, in effect, was my trump card, meaning I could say “no” and my parents would not question that. And life was going on just fine.

“But… I don’t want to risk being heart-broken again. I have not shut myself out from this world. I go out, I party, I socialize. It’s just that I don’t want to get into any relationship right now,” I said in my defense.

“Okay then… if that’s what you want. Think about it dear…,” she said and hung up.

I looked out of the window at the world outside, wondering whether time was really running out or everyone around me was simply being paranoid because I was still single and not ready to mingle. I walked over to the dressing table, stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself from head to toe. “Not bad,” I said to myself, “A little chubby, but certainly not undesirable.” I remembered being remotely attracted to a smart, highly professional and ambitious young man whom I had come across a few months back. We both were similar in many ways, yet were so different from each other. I genuinely liked him. But it had never gone beyond that. His image suddenly came to my mind. “Well, he would like me too, wouldn’t he?” I asked myself in the mirror.

But the image in the mirror appeared to be saying, “Are you nuts? Do you not remember how miserable you were after you’d broken up with him? What if someone breaks your heart again? You’ll die, you crazy girl!! Don’t do this to yourself.” True, I thought to myself. I remembered what had happened when I first loved someone. It was a complete disaster. I had no right to love someone… I had no right to do this to myself all over again.

Some say “opportunity knocks only once,” while some say “life always gives you a second chance.” I didn’t know which one to believe in. I thought of blogging about it in order to get it out of my system. So, I switched on my laptop and the radio (because I generally also listen to music while I am blogging and all). A popular song from a recently released movie was playing. It said:

In dino dil mera mujhse hai keh raha
Tu… khwab saja; tu… jee le zara
Hai tujhe bhi ijazat, kar le tu bhi mohabbat…

Was that a sign?

Baby's day out!!!

2008-12-08T10:06:00.000-08:00

I had always been proud of the fact that I am great with babies. Babies of all shapes, sizes, and hues loved me more than their mothers!! Little wonder then that I was a favorite with aunties at all family functions… aunties would step in and entrust me with their little yapping machines who would become silent sleeping beauties the moment I was in charge. I was a pro even with toddlers and it was not unusual to find me with a string of toddlers (two or three on both sides) running here and there or half-a-dozen of them listening intently to my worldly wisdom. You might be wondering why I am using the past tense… that’s because this weekend, I realized that I was not quite the pro that I thought I was!!

One of my aunts called me up to discuss a grave problem that she had. Apparently, she had been invited to the most happening cocktail party in town and her mother-in-law (who also usually doubled up as her baby-sitter) was not in town. Being my gracious self, I offered to take care of her “dahling.” I had already met this chap and shared a pretty good rapport with him. Plus, what was there to be scared of, considering my prowess at handling the “little angels of God?” In fact, my folks were not in town, and I was anyway going to while away my time either eating, napping, or watching TV. I could do with some company. And what possibly on earth could a 5-something kid do? Unlike the US, people here in India don’t get paid for baby-sitting. But money was not as important as the praise and honor that I would get when she’d talk about my skills to other friends and relatives. So, she said she’d drop this guy at my place by 11 in the morning that Sunday.

Come Sunday and this thing was at my door. I reassured his mum that he was safe and sound in my hands. How would I have known that I, in fact, was not safe and sound in his hands? I was also dictated a long list of “Dos and Don’ts,” which I painstakingly wrote down. What happened to that list, I shall reveal at the end.

I welcomed the guy and served him a complimentary breakfast of healthy “clown-faced” sandwiches (a trick that always works) to break the ice. He seemed ultra-happy and the vamp within me was laughing at his gullibility. Suddenly, it struck me that it was time for my weekly dose of my favorite TV show—FRIENDS!!! So, I switched on the TV, and within two minutes, he was begging me to switch on Cartoon Network. I tried to dissuade him by giving him some toys… I’d probably forgotten the generation that he belongs to… so, he picked up my cell-phone and started fiddling with it. After a lot of wrestling (who needs WWE), I had to give in and switch on Cartoon Network. For me, cartoons meant Tom n Jerry, Mickey Mouse, etc. However, these days, God alone knows how many half-humans, aliens, and weirdos appear on this channel. Clearly, this guy had no idea and interest in what was going on… but the devilish, triumphant smile on his face spoke volumes.

I tried to pacify myself with a half-read novel—one eye on the story and the other, on this brat, simultaneously also cursing him. Much to my surprise (and relief), the story got interesting! But like all joys, mine was short-lived too… because just when the story started to get interesting, someone wanted to go to the bathroom… and then, someone wanted some juice… and then, someone wanted me to tell him a story. Wait a minute… a story… that was my chance to get even….

I made up the spookiest (albeit the most nonsensical) stuff I’d ever made up in my life in an effort to get even with him. However, none of the Gods were quite on my side—the guy started crying… and how!! I was afraid my neighbors would think I have abducted a kid!! So, I was coaxing and cajoling him to stop… and stop he did… but since then, he became my shadow. It feels nice to mean so much to someone, but not to a kid like this, and especially not when you have to answer nature’s call. What had I landed myself into? Things could not get any worse…or could they?

Oh, by the way, did I forget to mention that we also had the company of my cute pet dog, who was unusually quiet and non-interfering that day? And why am I mentioning him now? This is why. Turned out that dear aunt’s dear son was a complete carnivore stuck with a vegetarian baby-sitter! And the carnivore inside him was hungry for some chicken. Since the baby-sitter was at his mercy, the poor thing had to give in and call for some chicken, which, thankfully, didn’t take much time to arrive. I served him the chicken… little did I realize what was in store for me. A 3-feet-tall mass of human flesh running about with some seemingly tasty and juicy avian flesh (for the uninspired, that referes to the chicken) in his hand, naturally, is something that dogs can't resist. So, the final outcome was the kid with some chicken in his hand running all over the living room, being followed by a hungry, barking dog who, in turn, was being followed by me, shaking off drops of perspiration, not having a clue of how to get out of this mess!! Quite a sight, eh?

I don’t know how I caught the kid and lifted him high up so he (and the chicken in his hand) was out of my dog’s reach. I put him on the table, pacified my dog with some chicken, and waited, until the doorbell rang. Oh, thank God!!!

Aunty stormed into the house in a huff, grabbed the kid (still munching on some chicken), took his bag (which was filled with some crap including a change of clothes, some toys, etc.), and stormed right out of the house without even dropping half-a-glance at me—you’re welcome! What a day!! And such thanklessness! I had a five-point plan for myself: (1) Take a deep breath, close my eyes, and tell myself it’s all over. (2) Take the list of "Dos and Don'ts," crush it hard, tear it into as many pieces as possible, and throw it into the dustbin. (3) Switch on the computer and blog about the episode. (4) Accept the fact that I can, at times, suck at baby-sitting. (5) Swear to God never to try my hand at baby-sitting ever again!!

Post-script: To all the parents out there, please don’t spoil your kids so much that they become such unmanageable devils and please take a moment to thank your kid’s baby-sitter!!

Just the same!!

2008-12-03T09:00:00.000-08:00

If you notice, I had posted my write-up titled "Bomb"ay in October. That was immediately after the blasts in Delhi. Since I have been awfully busy, I haven't got the time to blog at all. And guess what... it hardly matters!!! Because my blog talks about a recent happening... the Mumbai terror attacks!! So, my conclusion is that in the one month that I couldn't come up with any new blogpost, nothing has changed in the way our nation functions. I am not going to post anything else for the next month just to see if we have really had any success in curbing terrorism, if not fully, then at least to some extent. My guess is that things would remain the same and I would not have to come up with any other post.

PS: I would so love to be proved wrong this time!!!

"Bomb"ay

2008-10-03T08:21:00.001-07:00

"May I have your attention. We have been informed that there is a bomb hidden somewhere in the theatre premises. We request you to move out of this cinema hall as soon as possible. Please do not panic; our staff have been positioned at all exits to facilitate the evacuation and help you all. Please maintain your calm." And there was panic all over! We all started running towards the exit... holding each others' hands for reaffirmation. Mummy couldn't run fast--she has a knee problem--so, daddy, without thinking twice, lifted her in his arms and continued to run, despite his back, which has not been behaving itself for some time now. I was holding my sister close, lest she get lost in the mayhem. We all were running and the only goal in sight was the exit. As we were about to step out of the theatre, I suddenly realized that I'd left our shopping bag near our seats itself. I wanted to go in and get it because it contained gifts that I'd bought for everyone with my first salary--my hard-earned money... it was very precious!! My mum, who was now standing next to me, tried to drill some sense into my head and dragged me out of the theatre... and the next moment, there was a deafening sound... the bomb had exploded!!!

And I got up with a start to the sound of my alarm clock!! Thank heavens, it was all just a dream... a nightmare in fact!!! What a start to a day, I thought to myself. However, what kept haunting me was the reason why this dream happened to me. And finally, it dawned on me that this was nothing but the aftermath of the recent blasts that have rocked all parts of India.

What amazed me was the kind of impact that these blasts had on me--a 24-year-old girl pursuing post-graduate studies and who has seen enough death around herself (in my internship days, the ominous 7/11 serial train blasts had occurred in Mumbai) to be actually afraid of it. If these blasts can have such an effect on me, I wonder how much young children would have been traumatized by these explosions, especially the ones who were friends of Santosh, who died an extremely unfair death in the Delhi blasts. I also vividly recall the time of the 1992-93 serial blasts in Mumbai... I was a sixth grader then, and such a nightmare had occurred to me even during that unpleasant period.

A lot has been said about how ghastly these terrorist acts are and the cowardice of the people behind these happenings. It is sad enough that our government is only holding top-level meetings to "discuss" these issues without actually driving any concrete action. Some random men are picked up and labelled as terrorists, and they languish in jail, until our "super-fast" judiciary thinks of an adequate punishment or lets these people go scot-free. Until then, their expenses are provided for from the national treasury, which is filled up by the tax collected from the very same people who's kin die in these blasts--the king of all ironies, isn't it? The 24-hour news channels are doing their bit by focussing on the attire of the politicians--isn't that what path-breaking journalism is all about?

This post is not an appeal. Through this post, I beg of people to stop. Stop traumatizing us all... there's enough suffering in this world... please don't punish innocent people. We haven't been able to do anything against terrorism; but if it helps, we are ready to bow down to you all, on the condition that these dastardly acts stop immediately. We have given you enough warnings with the hope that they would deter you, but that does not seem to be happening. We don't want to keep fighting you if it means sacrificing the lives of thousands of innocent people every single time. Stop killing us physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially. We haven't been bad to you... we are simply caught in a war between parties whom we don't even know. Please spare us. Take whatever you want, except our right to live... because you may not value life, but we do... dearly.

Friends (Part I)

2008-09-28T07:05:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, not so long ago (say about seven years back), I got admission into BDS (that’s a bachelors’ in dentistry) in Pune (for those who don’t know much about me, I am from Mumbai, and Pune is a three-hour drive from here), the twist being that I did not quite want to pursue it. And there, I met my classmate, Sandhya (to whom this post is dedicated, by the way), a sweet South-Indian girl who had spent most of her childhood in Delhi (and went gaga over Delhi every time we happened to mention something even remotely related to it), but had recently shifted to Mumbai and was not exactly happy about it. Little did I know how far our friendship would go (for the uninspired, that rhymed)!!!

So, in Pune, we both were staying as paying guests in separate houses located some distance apart and she, unfortunately, had a very interesting room-mate (interesting, but only to a psychiatrist; in fact, on second thoughts, I think she, i.e., the room-mate, must have had schizophrenia or something), while my roomie, Reshma, was another classmate of ours. So, as her (extremely kind-hearted, considerate, generous… I should stop) friends, we told Sandhya to move in with us. And that’s how the “three musketeers” (how cheesy) started living together!!!

We also had friends who stayed locally and were day scholars. However, I shall limit my story to the three musketeers. A little bit about the other 2 “characters” (certainly so): Sandhya, the good girl, had been inspired by one of her professors (John… or was it Joe??) to take up dentistry and the obedient student that she was… moving on, Reshma, like me wanted to study medicine, but had been forced to take up dentistry due to the lack of marks (like poor me). But all in all, we were a weird (read awesome) threesome (not, by any means, in a sexual way, perverts)!!! And life went on…

A typical day used to start at about seven when Sandhya would get up, use the bathroom (this was a pact), wake up Reshma… and finally, when both were almost ready to go to college and fed up of trying to wake me up, I’d slowly get up and use the bathroom at leisure. When I’d be back, Sandhya, the sweetheart, would have a steaming cup of tea (made painstakingly using the electric kettle given by her mum and milk powder and teabags) ready for me. Reshma was sweet enough to offer me biscuits and after gulping all of that down, we would run to college.

To say that college was fun would be the understatement of the millennium… because it was wild!!! And my story would be incomplete if I don’t mention our dear professor Balaji (who started every lecture by saying “Prosthodontics is the art and science of preparing suitable artificial substitutes… how he’d be proud of me—I still remember it). We also had other professors; but then, none of them quite had the charisma (like Balaji) to deserve a mention herein. Then, after college, we used to hang out at this really dumb place called “Snacketeria” (I can hear some laughter in my head), primarily because that was the coolest place available (sometimes, we’d go to a restaurant called Foodland, but we couldn’t afford to go there so often). Then, after stuffing ourselves up with all the junk food that we possibly could, we’d head to a telephone booth to call up home and then go back to our room. We’d then wait for our dinner (lovingly referred to as dabba or tiffin); when it arrived, Sandhya used to neatly lay out newspapers, Reshma would get us some spoons and crockery, and meanwhile, I’d be in a rush to open the “dabba” (very inquisitive nature, you know). After dinner, we’d lay on our respective beds and keep talking, talking, talking, talking, zzzzzzz… and life went on…

Meanwhile, we had also allocated three different senior guys whom we could have a crush on and drool over and talk about) to each one of us. This was a pact and we’d never drool over the other girl’s “guy” (more laughter in my head)!!! We’d even undertaken under-cover close-to-midnight excursions to the places where they were staying (giggle)!!! And if, by chance, the “couple” were to wear the same color on some day or order the same dish in the canteen at the same time, then we’d all blush for each other (which, by the way, doesn’t qualify as stupid)!!!

Life was a blast… until… due to a bureaucratic goof-up (don’t get me started on that; I will discuss it in detail in another post), our admissions stood cancelled. And soon after, when we got re-admitted, Sandhya got into dentistry in Mumbai itself, while both I and Reshma got into medicine, in Nashik and Panvel, respectively, which meant that the three musketeers would no longer be together in the same class or in the same room!!! Was that also the end of our friendship?

(End of part I; to be continued)

Congratulations!!

2008-08-28T07:09:00.000-07:00

This is especially for my lil' sis n bro!! They are both studying to be dentists and have scored 68% and 63%, respectively, in their second year exams! Plus, my sis' also stood third in her college and has a distinction in 2 subjects.

Congratulations to both of you!! I am extremely proud of both of you and wish you even greater success in all your endeavors!!

A thought audit!!

2008-08-28T02:13:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting assignment that was given to me by one of my professors. He instructed me to jot down the thoughts that ran across my mind right from the time I woke up and started brushing my teeth till the moment when my eyelids swooped down over my eyes and sleep took over. Frankly, I thought of it as a useless exercise. However, I decided to do it just for the heck of it and also, somewhere in my heart of hearts, to demonstrate to that very professor how unfruitful the entire exercise was!!

The simple exercise completely surprised me... I was taken aback at the thoughts that ran across my 1300-gram-something brain. What amazed me even more is the pattern that these thoughts followed. In the morning, the thoughts were rather random, probably "need-based," i.e., about buying something, getting a haircut, completing some assignment, etc. Of course, there also were thoughts like "Shit, I need to lose some weight" and "Oh... there's another pimple blossoming on my face, to give company to the one that erupted a couple of days before." During transit, I usually listen to some music, and I found that the song that was playing influenced my thoughts. Evenings were spent remniscing about my family, friends, remembering to call them up, then calling them up or so. And finally, at night, just before going to bed, I thought about myself. What had gone wrong, what I had done right, why I had done what I had done, and why I had not done what I had not done. "Me" came after everything else. And this was not just on a single day. I did this over 4 days and the pattern was as constant and repetitive as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west every single day.

Postscript: Most of the time, we are so busy thinking about everything else around us that we simply and probably conveniently forget that at the center of it all, there is only 1 person--ME! You yourself are unable to dominate even your own thought process. Then how on earth can you expect to dominate or be in control anywhere else?
Try out a "thought audit"... it's fun, it's usually taken for granted, it works, and it gives you insight into your own self like never before!!

The empty nest--Part IV (Concluding part)

2008-08-11T08:03:00.001-07:00

So, what do these conversations point at? The way many of us are conveniently forgetting or ignoring our parents who have brought us up so selflessly? Or at the choice that some of us are making—giving a partner whom we have barely known more priority over our parents who are the people we have known the longest? Or simply at a refusal to try and adjust with one’s in-laws who, in actuality, are someone’s parents too? Would we pride ourselves in knowing the answer to this question, even if we actually knew the answer?

In Indian culture, mothers and fathers have a place next only to God. And there is no reason why anyone should object to this. In fact, personally, I feel that mothers and fathers should occupy a place even higher than that of God. When we have been taught all this all our lives, how do we, in reality, make decisions so diametrically opposite to what has been hammered into our minds since we were children? Let us even forget the theory that we have been taught. But can we even forget the sleepless nights that they spent when we were not keeping well, the way our mums got up at 3 to wake us up for our exams, the way our dads patiently taught us to ride our bicycles, the way both stayed up to reprimand us on our first late-night… there’s so much to write about, I would never be able to type out all that they have done!!! And yet, we still make decisions contrary to our own experience… something that we all have been a part of? Is that fair—to our parents… or even to our own selves?

I happened to have a conversation with my aunt about this entire issue. And I cannot forget what she said: We, parents, will never compel you to stay back with us. You may move out if you feel like, if that is what you and your partner want. We would never want to stop you from making your own decisions. And we would never want you to stay back with us out of sympathy… we are not the dependents. We raised you, remember? We can take care of ourselves, and we will. But you must realize that for parents, kids will always remain kids. We are too afraid to completely let go of you, simply because we care… deeply. We want to make sure that you are happy with your partner; that is why we would like it if you stay back. And the realization that you are and will be okay even after we are gone is our greatest happiness. Is that too much that we are asking for?

Parents are the most important people in our lives and it’s an irony that they are the most neglected ones too. Considering that they spend almost half their lifetime bringing us up and making sure we are okay, doesn’t it imply that we ought to reciprocate, even if they don’t expect? Personally, I am of the opinion that a person who does not respect and love his parents does not deserve the same from anyone in this world. And if a partner persuades you to move out into a separate house, then he/she is so not worth being with.

To sum it all up, here’s a message: to all the boys out there who are getting/are planning to get married, don’t move out simply because your partner wants “freedom” or because you think that your parents won’t be able to adjust with her—they did a great job bringing you up, right? If they could adjust with you, then they can, with anyone else in this world!! Give them a chance!! And to all the girls out there who are getting/are planning to get married, make an effort to adjust with your guy’s parents—they won’t eat you up like they show in all the saas-bahu serials on Star Plus!!

PS: Ma and Pa, I love you both a lot. And if you must, please find me someone who would love you as much!

The empty nest--Part III

2008-08-10T02:44:00.000-07:00

A few months back, I met one of my distant cousins who had also got married last year. Here’s the conversation that we had.

Me: Hey, so tell me, how’s everything? Are you still staying with your in-laws or have you convinced Jijaji to move out? You were planning to, right?

Cousin: No re… we are still staying with my in-laws. Before marriage, I was very apprehensive about staying with my in-laws. That’s why I was thinking of talking to Sam about moving out. But within the first few months of marriage, my entire outlook changed, all thanks to my in-laws.
Me: Really? In what way?

Cousin: I had assumed that I would have fights over late nights, what I wear, etc., etc. I wanted to avoid all that. But my mum-in-law is very supportive. Not that she allows me to stay out late and permits me to wear whatever I want to… she made me realize that my safety is now her responsibility and so, she wants me to be dressed properly and not stay out very late at nights. She said that if something happens to me, she would not be able to answer to my parents. She is also very supportive of my work and wants me to keep working. She even helps me with housework, including keeping a cup of tea ready for me when I come home from work. And dad-in-law is also very supportive. He helps me with small errands and shows me off to his friends when we go out for walks. With them around, it’s like mum and dad are with me. I realized that all it takes is a little adjustment from my side. And it would be a rather stupid thing to even think of moving out. I’d miss them terribly.

Me: I am so glad that you have found such a great family. You are really lucky!

Cousin: It’s not about being lucky. It’s all about being ready to adjust. Wouldn’t you do that for your own parents? Then why not for your husband’s parents?

(To be continued...)

The empty nest--Part II

2008-08-10T02:36:00.000-07:00

Here’s another such conversation that I had with a friend who was with me in college.

Me: Hey, so you are getting married? That’s good for aunty (his mother)!! She has been wanting some company. You three men (he, his brother, and their dad) against her alone—that’s so not fair.

Friend: Oh yeah. But she can be happy now, because she is going to have to face one person less—we have bought a house of our own and we will move out after marriage.

Me: But why?

Friend: Simply because I don’t think my parents would be able to adjust with Simmi. I don’t want my mother telling Simmi what she should wear, when she should come back home and all. And plus, I feel it is better that they stay away from each other. My mum has never had daughters and I am not sure if she would be able to “handle” Simmi. I don’t want each of them to come to me separately and complain about the other. So, it’s better that we move out.

Me: But aunty will be devastated… are you sure she’ll be okay with you guys moving out?

Friend: Not initially. But she’ll get used to it. And my lil’ brother is still there. So, she won’t really miss me. And I think I have lived with them for enough time. Now it’s time for me to live my life with my Simmi. You don’t worry, we will still visit them regularly.

(To be continued...)

The empty nest--Part I

2008-08-10T02:27:00.000-07:00

Last week, I ran into one of my closest friends from school. She had got married last year and had recently moved into a new house that was pretty close to where I live. Here’s a part of the conversation that we had.

Me: Hey, so you’ve moved in here? That’s great… now you can expect me to come over more often for some of our girl talk over tea… oh, but I hope your in-laws wouldn’t mind that…

Friend: No re… they wouldn’t mind because they haven’t moved in with us.

Me: Oh, why? Isn’t Sid their only child? (Sid = friend’s husband)

Friend: Yeah, he is. But we decided to move out. Sid also agreed. I couldn’t stay with my in-laws. I didn’t want any restrictions. I wanted to be free.

Me: Free… meaning?

Friend: Free to wear what I want, free to cook or order food, free to stay out late…

Me: But, isn’t that unfair to Sid’s parents? How did he agree?

Friend: What’s unfair about that? They have lived their life… now I want to live mine. And I will do it the way I want to. And Sid also agreed. In fact, he agreed right away. I didn’t even have to make an effort to convince him.

(To be continued...)

My Best Friend

2008-08-04T09:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was "friendship day." To be honest, I had always thought of this day as something that had been conceptualized and propagated by one of the many greeting-card companies to simply fool the unsuspecting emotional fools and make some fast bucks. However, it all changed yesterday.

I was supposed to meet my lil' sis after about 2 months because we both stay in hostels far apart owing to our studies. Finally, when I met her. She simply handed over a card to me. The card was black, with an image of "Tweety" on it in silver, and inside, there was a beautiful poem. I was caught unawares because (a) I had not expected to receive this card and (b) I didn't have any gift to give her. And then, she hugged me and wished me a "Happy Friendship Day!!" Nothing more was said, but these three words spoke volumes!!

Frankly, I have never taken the effort to praise or encourage my sister to write poems, although, I have to admit that she indeed is a poet in her own right. I was, in fact, overtly critical of her poems most of the time; however, considering that I have been an editor, I have an eye for grammatical mistakes rather than the emotion behind those words. I hardly used to encourage her, and I never realized the gift that she had, until yesterday. And here's the poem that she wrote especially for me. It touched me so much that I cried (not in front of her; for those who don't quite know me, I am stone-hearted). And hence, I want to share it with all.

Dearest Neha,

The countless times we fight,
The countless secrets we share;
The countless times you tell me
That you'll always be there;
The countless gifts you pamper me with,
The countless ways in which you love and care,

Are so precious to me,
You can't even guess;
Without you, dearest sister,
Life would have been a mess.

Hope these countless moments spent with you,
Never ever end;
My dearest sister, you will always be
My dearest, bestest friend!!!

Dear Sis,
You mean the world to me...
I look upto you always...
Love you lots!!!

Mona.

I am the elder sister, but I am more imature, more careless, and more thoughtless than my lil' sis, in more ways than one. So, I want to take this opportunity to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me.

Dear Mona,
I love you and I always will. The very purpose of my life revolves around making you and mum and daddy happy, and I shall do whatever it takes to keep you all smiling always. You have been my confidante, friend, philosopher , and guide. Thank you for being what you are. With you around, I feel blessed. Stay the same dear.

I love you more than I can ever express through words. And I always will...
Happy Friendship Day to my bestest friend too...
Loads of love,
Neha.

Helpless healers

2008-06-26T09:16:00.000-07:00

“There is no option left but to change the endotracheal tube… let us at least give it a shot,” said Akash, the senior resident of the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), who, automatically, was in charge as well because it was half past three in the morning when the world outside was fast asleep, and in stark contrast, the NICU was bustling with doctors and nurses running about to get the resuscitation equipment ready—a patient has just gone into respiratory distress.

The patient in question was a 2-day old neonate that had just opened its eyes to the big bad world outside the cozy confines of its mother’s womb. However, even its intrauterine life had not been a smooth journey. I knew the mother’s history—she was a 19-year-old maiden when she had eloped with her lover, who had rewarded her love with a gift that she would remember for life—the human immunodeficiency virus. And before the poor thing knew, she had not only been abandoned but was also pregnant. Fortunately, an NGO had picked her up and had registered her with us in her sixth month of pregnancy. On examination, she had high blood pressure and swollen feet—an extremely ominous sign suggesting a condition called pre-eclampsia—indicating that her condition could worsen to eclampsia, where she could have seizures. This meant that the little lump of cytoplasm growing inside her, which, by now, had tiny hands and feet too, was in extreme danger every single moment. My friend, a gynecology resident, had told me about her and had warned me to keep a bed ready in the NICU because we were expecting this brand new individual to be our guest.

As if things were not bad enough, the baby refused to cry even when smacked on its buttock after delivery by an emergency surgery (Caeserean section). The doctors inside the operation theater were almost certain that it had been a still-birth, when this imp uttered a meek cry—its first signal that it was alive and wanted to live!! And as we welcomed this angel into our unit, and as I held it in my hands, I felt it saying, “I want to live…”

The next 2 days, one of us was always next to the kid’s cradle to ensure that it was doing fine and there was no complication. However, at the back of our minds, we all were plagued by a question—would this child even live? And if it did, what would happen to it—a child who had been abandoned by its father probably when it was being conceived and whose mother would pass away any moment? Would the child live beyond its toddler days… what about its food, shelter, and education? Or would it end up like one of the million children who either beg or steal or work as child laborers to earn a couple of morsels of food; the many children who sleep on the footpaths and railway stations; the angels who are bullied by hooligans to part with their hard-earned pennies? Or would it be thrown away into an orphanage where it would be neglected like all others? Would it suffer from permanent brain damage or would it have normal development? And yet, despite these worries, we all wanted it to survive… because every child has a right to.

And now, 2 days later, the child was gasping… losing its battle with life every moment. And we were all frantic… a bunch of helpless healers trying to inject life into its body, even as life slipped out of it drop by drop. We inserted all kinds of tubes into its body, injected whatever we thought could give it one extra breath, tried to inflate some life into its lungs, rubbed its limbs so that blood could course back into its vessels… even muttering “Come on, you can make it,” hoping it would understand and fight back… until the body went limp. It had lost the battle… WE had lost its battle! Nothing thumped inside its tiny chest, and its cheeks became an ominous blue from their usual cheerful pink. And surrounding that one-foot something lifeless body, we stood in a daze, not believing this had happened, yet, somewhere thanking the Almighty for having prevented it from embarking upon a life of suffering, and praying for its soul.

I still wonder what would have happened to the child if it had survived. It would probably have become a world-renowned scientist or doctor someday. Or would it have been lost in one of the many by-lanes as a rag-picker? No one would ever know. But the way it looked at me when I first held it in my arms, the way it tried to encircle my little finger in its hand… and finally, the lifeless expression on its face... these things still tug at my heart-strings. In all probability, it would have ended up in a way that I would not have liked, but would not have been able to do much about it. Hence, in a way, I am relieved that it is now in the safe hands of the Almighty. Yet, this little angel’s story keeps reminding me that we, doctors, are mere mortals who can only treat. The one who cures is above us all.

Heartfelt...

2008-06-13T10:53:00.000-07:00

This is for someone whose voice I have never heard, whose face I have never seen, whose touch I have never felt... Still, I felt the need to put up this post.

Treks are the most fun thing that one looks forward to with the monsoons approaching. The adventure, the thrill, the excitement, the freedom... but who would have, even in the wildest of dreams, thought that one of these treks could turn into a lifetime of grief and loss for a family? A friend of my sister, all of 19 years, the best student in his class, who would have passed out as a dentist three years from now... one such trek ended it all. A loose boulder crushing someone underneath is probably one of the most painful deaths... and that someone being a 19-year-old? I had only heard about him from my sister, mostly because they were classmates and competitors too... that is all that I know about him. But somewhere in my heart, I really felt bad today when I heard this.

I don't know how or why this happened. Probably, it was destined. Otherwise, what could possibly justify his going ahead with the trek bang in the middle of his exams... when other students are probably busy cramming their texts?? However, all I know is that I genuinely feel for his family and for him. This is my way of telling his family that I share their grief. And also to all you trekkers out there, adventure is good, but please be careful. Because better safe, than sorry...

I love you

2008-06-07T09:25:00.000-07:00

“Ma, will you please mind your own business and not tell me how to lead my life?” I yelled at my mother. The situation: I had finally started to clean up my cupboard after she had coaxed, cajoled, persuaded, nagged, bribed, and at last, pleaded with me to do so before giving up on me. And when I had got down to actually doing the task, she stood there, showering upon me her bits of wisdom like how I should be more responsible, more organized, and what I would teach my kids, and so on and so forth. Hence, the outburst… However, with me, things are different. ‘Coz such outbursts are a frequent occurrence, more so when I am PMSing (right before “that time of the month”). And my victims are usually my immediate family… my mum, sis, n daddy.

The immediate aftermath of such episodes generally comprises not talking to each other, silently crying for a few minutes, some emotional blackmail (saying stuff like it’s me who’s always wrong, why do I even bother…) to make the other person (generally me) feel guilty… and at the end of it all, it is back to normal… until the next such episode!!!

I have tried to not only control my temper but also analyze my outbursts. And I have reached a conclusion—these outbursts are random and not deliberate; I just shout or yell and then realize that it was not the best way to react. Probably mum understands this too… that is why most of the time, she just retreats into a corner, quietly continuing her work, sometimes even crying to herself… but after all, she is also human and I know in her heart of hearts, she is deeply hurt, although she never shows it. This probably is something that comes with becoming a mother… courage, strength, and willpower that nothing else can confer upon you…

The case isn’t too different with my sister too. In many of our overnight big sis-small sis kinda conversations, she has told me how she looks up to me and admires me—a reason for me to genuinely feel proud of myself. But then, she has oft been a victim of my outbursts of anger too. And I don’t know whether out of fear or respect she simply gets out of my way and starts to read something or to her favorite pastime—write a poem about it!!! Probably her way of expressing it all… Indeed, in more ways than one, she is too mature for her age, even more than I am.

And daddy, he is our common punching bag!!! He has silently borne the outbursts of my mum, me, my sis… and still, is as cool as a cucumber. Of late, I have started to understand daddy… he is our eternal peacemaker. He says that if, by venting our frustrations out at him, we feel relieved, then it’s too less a price to pay. Thank God for him, else I don’t know what or how or where we would have been!!!

I can’t remember the last time when we, as a family, went out for a holiday, or a movie, or even shopping. More often than not, it has been attributed to our schedules, work pressures, studies, staying away in a hostel, going out with friends, attending someone’s wedding… and spending time with the family has never been a priority. Or probably it has been there, but all of us have been subconsciously postponing it for some other time, which has not yet come. I can’t remember the last time I said “I love you” to either of my family members… they are the ones who are taken for granted the most by such self-centered individuals like me. True, I have given every single paisa of my earnings to my mother, even bought her gold jewellery for her birthday this time, took my sister out shopping and for a movie, bought my dad a silk kurta for Fathers’ Day. But, something still appears to be lacking.

And so, I take this opportunity to say “Thank you” and “I love you” to my mum and sis and daddy. I may not say it so frequently and you may have to face a random outburst of my wrath any moment, but deep down, I love you all like crazy. And it’s because I know that you guys will always be there for me, no matter what. I may have been a crazy daughter and a mad sister, but I love you guys, I really do. And I always will.

Despite being fortunate enough to have traveled to many places, my heart still yearns for good old “ghar ka, mum ke haath ka khana,” which I can never have enough of. For every little problem, I have to consult my sister, whom I lovingly address as “mother-in-law.” At times, just a bear hug from her says “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be just fine.” And daddy, I may have fought with him millions of times over trivial issues, but we still sit up late to watch cricket matches and clap and rejoice when India wins.

If there’s anything that I wish to convey from this blog, it’s just that our family members are the ones whom we take granted for the most. But they are also the ones whom God has chosen for us, to stand by us in our testing times. And God is usually not wrong, right? He gives us the best of people who are there for us, no matter what. And we do not realize their value and importance until one day, we lose them. So, before you realize that it’s too late, take a couple of seconds to say “I love you” not just to your girlfriend (s) and boyfriend (s), but also to your family…as Mother Teresa has said, “It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.”

Murphy's laws at work

2008-06-05T04:23:00.000-07:00

(Note: The following content has been shamelessly plagiarized from the net and the author does not take any credit for it. However, since these laws hold true universally, the author deems them worthy of inclusion herein.)

A pat on the back is only a few centimeters away from a kick in the pants.

Don’t be irreplaceable; if you can’t be replaced, you can’t be promoted.

The more crap you put up with, the more crap you are going to get.

Never ask 2 questions in a business letter. The reply will discuss the one you are least interested in and say nothing about the other.

When the bosses talk about improving productivity, they are never talking about themselves.

If, at first, you don’t succeed, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it.

There will always be beer cans rolling on the floor of your car when the boss asks for a ride from the office.

Keep your boss’s boss off your boss’s back.

Never delay the ending of a meeting or the beginning of a cocktail hour.

To err is human; to forgive is not company policy.

Anyone can do any amount of work provided it isn’t the work he is supposed to be doing.

Important letters that contain no errors will develop errors in the mail.

The last person who quit or was fired will be the one held responsible for everything that goes wrong—until the next person quits or is fired.

There is never enough time to do it right the first time, but there is always enough time to do it over.

The more pretentious a corporate name, the smaller the organization. (For instance, The Murphy Center for Codification of Human and Organizational Law, contrasted to IBM, GM, AT&T.)

If you are good, you will be assigned all the work. If you are really good, you will get out of it.

You are always doing something marginal when the boss drops by your desk.

People are always available for work in the past tense.

If it wasn’t for the last minute, nothing would get done.

At work, the authority of a person is inversely proportional to the number of pens that person is carrying.

When you don’t know what to do, walk fast and look worried.

You will always get the greatest recognition for the job you least like.

Once a job is fouled up, anything done to improve it only makes it worse.

One heart, two heartbreaks, and many unanswered questions

2008-06-04T08:12:00.000-07:00

Who does not wish for the joy of raindrops from the season’s first showers dripping on one’s face after a long hot dusty summer? Farmers anticipate the arrival of monsoon with dreams of a rich harvest so that their families can comfortably survive over the next year. Tiny tots eagerly await the arrival of rains so they can step out in their new pair of gumboots and jump into the freshly formed puddles to splash water on each other… wear their colorful, newly purchased raincoats and show them off to their friends. Young boys can’t wait to play football in the rain, falling into the slush on the field and thoroughly enjoying themselves coated in mud, like strawberries coated with cream!!! The season of rains seems to instill a new life, a new freshness into every creature… spreading happiness and cheer all around. Not always though… as I sit down to pen my thoughts, I wish for the raindrops to fall on my face, to drench me and drown my sorrows so that no one can see the tears flowing from my eyes…

I am of the opinion that in most cases, the main cause of sadness or sorrow is the loss of something or someone close to one’s heart. Whether it is some hard-earned money that is stolen, a precious gift from someone special, to be separated from someone close or see such a person suffer… however complicated the reason, in most cases, it comes down to this… the loss of something or someone very special. And what is it that makes that something or someone special? Emotions… if one’s heart takes a liking toward someone or something, then he/she/it becomes special. And it is these very emotions that, at times, make us weak and sentimental, forcing us to behave unreasonably and irrationally, defying the basic logic behind how to deal with such situations.

I am, as most of my friends call me, an emotional fool—at times, I simply forget that I am a mature adult endowed with a brain that has the ability to reason and question and arrive at conclusions. And this very fool in me justifies such behavior as human. Although this attitude of mine has landed me into trouble more often than not, I refuse to learn from my mistakes. Instead, I simply write about them, hoping that someone who thinks like me would read it and agree that after all, we are human.

To most people who are reading this, emotions are almost synonymous to love and sadness, to heartbreak. I don’t have the exact statistics on how many people in the world have fallen in love, have suffered heartbreaks, how many times people have fallen in love, etc. But one thing I am sure about—most have suffered a heartbreak at least once, which, indirectly, means that most have also experienced the magic of first love. All firsts are special, and the same holds true for first love too. Mine too… was…

I was all of sixteen when I first met him. He was eighteen, an adult, while I was a teenager. I’d had my share of crushes… but this was different. What followed was spending hours on the phone, countless “dates,” saying “I love you” every time we hung up… We fought, then made up, kissed, held hands, bought each other small gifts, took long walks by the sea in the pouring rain under one umbrella… it was typical teenage puppy love. But whatever it was, it was magical!!! Till, finally, it all came to a rude, abrupt end.

My mother found out that I had been lying to go out every now and then and had been spending a lot of time on the phone, when I should have been studying. And like a mother straight out of a melodramatic Hindi movie, she blackmailed us both into promising that we would never talk to each other again. Fueled by my admission into medicine, an extremely demanding course, in an institute away from home, I gradually gave up hopes of seeing him ever again. I cried myself to sleep at times, reminiscing about those moments, and I even recounted some of those episodes to my girl pals during our endless chat sessions at night. But that was it… he had settled into a corner of my heart, where he would remain for life, whether or not I met him. And one by one, six long years passed by…until…

After a pathetic night shift at a government hospital (which should garner some sympathy from the readers), I was on my way home, running to catch a train when… I ran into him instead. And everything around me came to a standstill—I didn’t know what to say or what to do, how to react, how to behave… it was difficult to even believe that it was him, and for a moment, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. How I wish they were!!! But they were not… it was him… and with him, the countless memories and the pain of separation all came back. What started off as an exchange of pleasantries blossomed into love… although at every step, I kept reminding myself that I will not risk falling in love with this person, that I did not have the courage to deal with another heartbreak which was pretty imminent. Alas! I could not help love from growing into my heart yet again.

This time around, it was different. It was two mature adults in love. We talked about our careers, family responsibilities, how we would convince our families about our relationship, family planning, the importance of contraception, doing taxes together, appearing for job interviews, the ideal time to get married, and just about everything that would matter to us in our life together. We spent quality time with each other and talked about how the day was, even going out on weekend breaks, shopping with and for each other, helping each other with family stuff. Until, one day, he told me that he was going to be engaged to another girl the week after…

Surprisingly, I was not as shattered as I would have been expected to be, for somewhere, deep down in my heart, I always knew that this would never work out. And for something that is illogical, irrational, and unreasonable—because he is a Muslim and I am a Hindu. The very logic, reason, and rationalism, which I am so blatantly opposing in this remark, applied to myself when I ran into him at the station would have told me to not get into this mess; what was over, was over… there was no use re-kindling the love. However, as I have already acknowledged that I am an emotional fool, I chose to remain in denial of the fact that this was never going to work out. I hoped against hope for it to work out because for me it was as if the entire universe had conspired against all odds and made us run into each other… WE were meant to be!!! Every time he told me that WE were never going to happen, I told him to simply leave it to destiny and convinced myself that patience is the key… the right time will come. Little did I know that destiny, in fact, had such a rude shock in store for me.

To the mature, not-so-emotional, rational thinkers, it may be very clear that it indeed was my fault and I am solely responsible for my plight. To some others, it may appear that it was his fault, for he should not have encouraged me when he was well aware that this would never work out. Some may say that this was destined to happen. Many questions haunt me—why did I ever run into him again, why did this have to end like this, why me? But there is no one who can answer these questions. In my defense, I just listened to my heart… like I always have… and as always, I have been hurt. And there isn’t really any use playing the blame game. I don’t know if he’s getting married out of choice or due to parental pressure… and I don’t think that it would help me even if I knew. As for my feelings for him, logic says that I should hate him for having done this to me, that too, twice; but my illogical, irrational heart still loves him, and always will. I have loved… and lost… twice!!! Now there’s no hope, no despair… just a void that can never be filled. And another question… Will I be able to love again?

And as I look out of the window with a mug of coffee waiting for the rain to come, drench me and mask my tears, I am reminded of something that Lord Byron once said: “Man’s love is of man’s life a part; it is a woman’s whole existence. In her first passion, a woman loves her lover; in all the others, all she loves is love.”

Moments

2008-06-04T08:09:00.000-07:00

Life is full of moments—some that you may want to forget as soon as possible, some that you will remember for life… some that may fade away in memory, some that will haunt you till you live… some that just pass you by, some that make you stop and think… some that may make you feel unwanted, some that may make you feel loved and secure… These moments aggregate to form minutes, then hours, then days, then years, then decades, until one fine moment, you breathe your last. What is amazing is how, in a lifetime that spans an average of six decades, each of these seemingly tiny, miniscule units of time have distinct identities of their own...

One such moment of enlightenment I can vividly recollect, especially because it sprang up when I needed it the most—after a horrendous, horrible, awful, dreadful, horrific, terrible day!!! (That’s about all the adjectives I can think of right now…but I hope the picture’s pretty clear) It was a slightly “extra-typical” Monday morning, meaning, I had just got back from a wonderful 2-week holiday and it was a Herculean task to just get myself out of bed, leave alone make myself some tea, have a bath, get dressed, and leave for… oh my god… WORK!!! More so because my family members were snoring away to glory as if it were a national holiday!!! And here I was, rudely shaken from my beauty sleep by the ringing of my cell-phone… which, by the way, reminds me of men—can’t do with them, can’t do without them!!! Turns out that it was my boss reminding me that I was but a puppet, and he held the strings…

So, finally, I was all ready, albeit slightly late, for work, and as I was on my way, just about to step on the stairs leading to the railway platform, my shoe gave way. Since I am a well-cultured girl from a respectable family with good values, I have been taught not to swear. However, in such situations, swearing takes the form of a reflex—things then start working at the spinal level, and all the values that one’s elders have painstakingly drilled into one’s head over the years are conveniently ignored. So, after swearing pointlessly at a lifeless object—my shoe, which wouldn’t even answer or swear back—I started walking towards a rickshaw, one shoe in hand, one on my foot (sounds like a bird in a hand… something??) Murphy once said that whenever you are faced with a broken shoe, none of the rickshaws would agree to take you home, even if paid double the fare… and after a dozen rickshaws had refused to take me home, I was walking, dressed up in a skirt, my laptop in one hand and the broken shoe in the other, limping and looking like a complete idiot!!!

After changing into another pair of shoes and promising myself never to be enticed into buying stilettos, I started my journey to work all over again.

(End of part I. Bored? It only gets worse!!)

The typical Monday that it was coupled with my post-holiday blues only seemed to make things more difficult than they already were. I rushed to the pantry to make myself a cup of coffee to get some adrenaline pumping, only to find the coffee stocks exhausted. Terribly disappointed, I dragged myself to my seat, still half asleep and grumpy. A window popped on my computer: Meeting in 10… CR-1. To silence the weird noises that my stomach was making (for the less-enlightened ones, the noises were hunger pangs), I decided to call for breakfast and decided to have it after the meeting, which, by the way, went on till finally, at near lunch-time, I threatened to collapse out of weakness. Blessed with a 10-minute break, I went to my cold sandwich (which was supposed to be a yummy, cheese-filled grilled sandwich)—now, a piece of leather!!!

Finally, when I thought I had scraped through my work hours, I saw my cell-phone beep… a message… from my boyfriend. We were going through a rough patch in our relationship (to say the least), and this ominous message only meant more bad news. Not now please!!! I could not help it; he was standing right outside my office, waiting for me, and the only way I could avoid him was jump out of the window… on the eleventh floor!!! Another thing to be borne in mind while applying for a job… So, I walked up to him, and we decided to sit down in a café and talk things out, like a couple of mature adults. It is in the best interests of everyone if what followed is not described… probably a catfight, except that we were not using our limbs, but our tongues.

We walked out of the café in opposite directions, not knowing whether it was an effort to avoid the other person or our problems. And as I walked alone, hungry, tired, emotionally drained, tears streaming down my cheeks, I felt like I had hit rock bottom. There was no meaning to life now… no one cared if I was there or not… Never before, had I been so lonely and helpless. I got into the train that would take me back home. There were hardly any women in the compartment since it was late, and I withdrew myself into a corner, by the window, silently crying from inside. It was as if all my pain receptors had suddenly been stimulated like never before, down-regulating all my other receptors. My stomach churned, and all I wanted to do was lock myself up in a room and cry… scream… why God, why me?? What did I ever do to be repaid like this? Nothing’s going my way. Haven’t I been a good daughter, a good sister, a good friend, a good human being? Then why was this happening to me??

“Drawing, painting books, story-book, Cinderella, Snow white, Harry Potter le lo… Bachchon ke liye… Story padhkar drawing ko color karo, sirf das rupaiye mein…”

It was one of the many vendors who consider the local train as a market and throng them to sell their wares and make a living on a daily basis, the only difference being it was a boy, about 6–7 years old, who walked up to me and said “Madam, le lo na, bachchon ka drawing book, subah se do hi bika hai.”

And that moment changed my life!!! A kid, hardly 6–7 years old, who probably is also an orphan and has to fend for himself at such a tender age… an age when most of his peers would be reading and enjoying the very same books that he sells in crowded compartments of local trains to earn himself a few rupees? A kid who has to jump into and out of running trains, shout and market his wares non-stop for eighteen hours a day, grab a measly lunch, then continue… probably at the end of the day, give away his earnings to his parents to help support a large family or to some local goon who is known to grab the earnings of such innocent kids. A kid who has to catch a few winks on the bench of a railway platform or beneath a tree or on the footpath with barely anything to protect him from the cold and rains…

This, when he should actually be getting up from a comfortable bed, getting a nutritious breakfast on the table (and throw a lot of tantrums about it), going to school, nagged to sit down and study, going out and playing and coming back to watch TV, demanding the latest gadgets and video games in the market… just like other children of his age!!!

I gave him hundred rupees and told him to keep it because I didn’t know any children whom I could give the books to. He refused to accept the money, insisting that he was not begging, but earning a livelihood. Such self-respect and dignity, at that age… probably, life had taught it to him the hard way… like it gives us lessons every now and then. I then bought some books from him and asked him what he would do with the money, just to inquire if his hard-earned money would be useful to him or not. His reply touched a chord deep inside my heart… a place I had never even known that existed. He said it was for his school fees. The kid was a student at a night school and wished to study medicine. And for the first time in my life, I was smiling, laughing, beaming, and crying hopelessly, all at the same time… I have never ever experienced that again…

Man has, and will always be a thankless creature. And it is this nature of his that leaves him dissatisfied and cribbing about non-issues. Here I was, complaining of the million things that had gone wrong with my life, when a chance encounter with this little angel made my problems seem like such non-issues. The kid was so determined, so positive, so content with whatever little he got… the smile on his face when he got the money for his fees spoke volumes. Suddenly, I realized that it was time to get down from the train. And as I walked back home, the bitterness in my heart had been replaced with a warm feeling. I was thankful for what I had. After all, God had not been as bad to me as I believed. In fact, he had taught me a lesson that I would remember and cherish for life.