Bein' home

In the last 26 days, I have...

...read:

• The Mine, by Arnab Ray
• The Hunger Games trilogy
• The Godfather by Mario Puzo

For someone who has read practically nothing in the last two-three years, this is quite impressive.

...watched:

• All four seasons of Coupling
• Both seasons of Sherlock
• Both seasons of Downton Abbey, though some episodes seem to be missing from what I have procured, and also I only realised halfway through the show that it is Downton and not Downtown.
• The season finales of Community, Castle and Once Upon a Time
• Ishaqzaade
• The Avengers
• The IPL final

...eaten:

• Gol gappas and samosas at the neighborhood shop
• Genuine Indian Chinese food at a dingy street stall
• Calamari at HRC, Delhi
• Mughlai paratha at Kingdom of Dreams - could've been better, could've been worse.
• Aloo ke parathas at Jhilmil Dhaba, Karnal - with dollops of Amul butter and dahi
• Mushroom achaar and apple juice from the NAFED (now called HPMC, I think) stall at Jabli 
• Butter Chicken at Giani da Dhaba, en route to Kasauli
• Thukpa and momos in a dingy little shop in Lower Mall, Kasauli
• Chai at Ross Common, Kasauli - a charming little hotel where we've stayed when I was a kid
• Chicken rolls at Badshaah, New Market
• Breakfast at Flury's
• Pretty awesome vegetarian sizzlers in Patna's only mall
• My favorite dishes at The Monk, Gurgaon
• The mother's aloo posto, luchi-mangsho, shepherd's pie, and dosas
• The father's salami sandwiches

...visited:

• Jabli, Kasauli, and Chandigarh. With the princess in tow, because the hotel we were staying in let us bring her along, and gave us a lovely little "studio cottage" which came with a tiny kitchen where we could make her khana too
• Kolkata, to meet the grandmother
• Patna, to visit the brother

I did NOT get to:

• have Bhutta
• visit the Inayat Khan dargah in Nizammuddin for Friday evening qawwalis, followed by a meal at Karim's
• go to Kake da Hotel
• have Shorshe-bata or any of mum's fish dishes
• eat at Big Chill
• go into Delhi as much as I would've liked, or visited CP, or Khan Market, or Dilli Haat
• go swimming

It's been a good month. Short, though.

Conversations on the phone

The father and I just had a chat on the phone, while he was waiting to board a flight back from Bombay to come home, during which I tried to articulate a lot of what's been bothering me for a while now. We both rambled, and jumped from topic to topic, so I can't quite present the whole thing. Snippets that I can recall, in no very clear order are presented below. Oh and if you haven't seen Ishaqzaade but plan to and don't want spoilers, avoid the third snippet, which pretty much gives away the main "twist" of the movie.

Baba: What did you think of the Satyamev Jayate episode yesterday?

Me: Wasn't bad. I broke down while watching it, of course. Thrilled they're finally talking about CSA, and SO awed by how brave and incredible the survivors were to come and talk the way they did. But I wish Aamir Khan wouldn't lead the conversations so much. Let the people articulate things their own way na, instead of saying "so what you mean is this...?".

Baba: Hmmm. Some of the folks I met here saw the show. People don't seem to have liked the show much. 

Me: Yes well, from what I see on twitter these days, people like to be cynical because they seem think that's what's expected.

Baba: People seem to be worried "intelligent actors will now be determining government policy."

Me: But... he's not going into policy. He's stopping at spreading awareness. Which, yes, could be a complaint, but at least he's spreading awareness. Who said this?

Baba: Oh, the educated folks of Bombay. And fool editors who print such letters to the editor.

Me: Yes well, your reform is never going to come from the educated folks. They're too busy try to convince themselves and everyone else that everything happens in other homes and classes, not in their own.

Baba: Come on, that's not entirely true.

Me: Oh come on, not to take anything away from the tragedy, but one hit-and-run happened in Gurgaon, and people are organizing silent marches to protest because they knew the persons involved. How many such incidents happen with people the "educated people" don't know, and who organizes marches for them?

Baba: But then the question is, which one will hit? And make the point?

Baba: I hear all the "young MPs" were absent from the 60th anniversary celebrations in Parliament yesterday.

Me: I'm impressed the old folks showed up.

Baba: Who's being cynical now?

Me: But that's the thing no? Where do you see hope? Our politicians are useless, social reform is not happening, so what do you have that you shouldn't be cynical about? But I'd like to think my cynicism is not because I feel I need to be, but because I can't help it!

Baba: Mindsets need to change.

Me: But where do you start? We just came back from seeing Ishaqzaade, and yes, the crowd was horrible. You know what I hated the most? There's this scene where the lead pair has just slept together, and he's walking away from her after informing her that he only pretended to fall in love with her because he wanted "revenge" for the slap she gave him. There's a woman crying on the screen, Baba, and the men in the audience are hooting with glee. What do you do with such mentality? How do you begin to change that?

Baba: I think we should completely avoid the PVR in Sahara Mall. The price difference isn't worth it.

Me: Well, yes, but again, how does that change things?

Me: Did I tell you about the FirstPost article where the writer wondered why the women who'd been forced to have abortions continued to agree to have "conjugal relations" with their husbands?

Baba: Does this writer have any idea about what India's like?

Me: Uh huh. So there seems to have been such uproar that the editors took down the article and apologised, saying they are aware all women don't have that option.

Baba: Well, at least they have some sense.

Baba: Well, I have to switch off now. So you're going to Delhi in the evening? By metro?

Me: Yep.

Baba: *silence*

Me: Chill na, if I get late coming back, I'll take a cab.

Baba: Oh, okay.

There was more, a lot of which I can't put together coherently. Heck, I'm not sure this was coherent. I went to the mother to chat after I ended the call, and her first words, as happens rather frequently, were: You're worked up again. Now what?

I told her a bit about the conversation and she wanted to know if I was upset because there are problems, or because I don't know what to do about the problems. 

There's a good question to ask myself.

A tourist at home

I spent two weeks in Hyderabad in March, with 30-odd classmates of various nationalities. I had written, before going, that I wasn't sure how to answer their questions about India. What I hadn't anticipated was the discomfort I would feel visiting India with a group like this. Not during the project part of the trip so much, but more during the sightseeing portion.

I didn't like being a tourist in my own country. And I don't mean visiting Hyderabad, where I had never been before. I mean being part of a group of foreigners, for lack of a better word, that was visiting India, and by default, therefore, being treated like one.

I didn't like being bought a "high-value" ticket at the Taj Mahal so that I could escape the long queues to get in. I definitely didn't like being told to hold my ticket unlike everyone else, because y'know, I look Indian. I didn't like that my classmates could get away with doing head stands, but I had to keep waving my high-value ticket to prove I could go peer over the railing in the courtyard.

I didn't like how we were taken to tourist traps for shopping where 100 grams of spices or tea cost exorbitant prices. I didn't like that we were taken to a highway shop where chips and soft drinks were ten times their MRP - although I am quite proud of the fact that I found a roadside stall just outside that stupid shop, and bought stuff there.

I didn't like the whining about the crowds and the queues that began among my classmates halfway through the trip, particularly when people started getting close to exhaustion and stress on their projects. I didn't like the constant defensiveness I felt, and the way I had bite back the urge to retort.

It wasn't all bad, no. Most of the folks, especially my team, were extremely comfortable trying out new food stuffs, exploring random shops and areas, getting off the buss and walking through Agra to find a place to eat. I loved how curious they were about the tiny things, things I probably haven't given a second thought in years. I loved being able to explain things to them, introduce my country to them.

But there was a lot that made me uncomfortable. And part of me wonders if I'm overreacting. I've taken a step back, waited more than a month, to when I'm finally back home in India, to publish this post. And the feelings are still there. So maybe I'm not. I just wish I could explain it better.

Nomenclature

For years, I've watched Shabani Azmi give interviews, and in every single one of them, she's got on her soapbox about how she's not an actress, she's an actor. Because y'know, you don't call a female doctor a doctress, so why should acting be any different. 

Which, okay, is her point of view, and she's entitled to it. But it never really resounded with me despite all my rants on gender equality.

Then, this season of Castle brought in a new Captain for the precinct. Captain Victoria Gates. Who, in her very first episode on the show demanded to be addressed as either "Captain" or "Sir". Never Ma'am.

As as the season has progressed, with every episode that the rest of the characters on the show persist in calling her Sir rather than Captain, my discomfort with the idea has increased. 

There's so much else in the whole fight for gender equality, that to me, focusing on something as silly as nomenclature seems... pointless. More than that, I don't see why women feel the need to downplay the fact that they're women in the effort to be treated as equal. And that's what this feels like.

There's enough to fight for. Picking your battles is a great concept, but those battles should have some meaning. And ensuring that you're addressed the same way men are holds no meaning for me. Because, at the end of the day, how you're addressed has nothing to do with how you're treated. And that should be the focus. Period.

Chai and tea

This is a PSA for everyone who is confused about the difference between chai and tea, as well as for those who think they know the difference. Particularly the latter group, actually.

Because there is no difference. Chai is the Hindi word for tea. Tea is Chai. Chai is Tea. C'est tout.

The world is coming to an end when Indian hotels now look at you and ask if you want tea or chai.

Calling it chai tea is stupid and redundant. Calling tea-bag tea, tea and masala chai, chai is confusing and ridiculous.

Call it regular tea and spice tea if you want. Or regular chai and masala chai. BUT STOP MAKING IT SOUND LIKE TEA AND CHAI ARE DIFFERENT.

Okay bye.

It's not travel anxiety, It's 'Things I Hate About Travelling'

I have a friend who tends to get, shall we say, anxious when she has to travel. I'm not sure why she gets this way, but weeks before a trip is due, her tweets will be full of everything that could possibly go wrong. And a few more disasters besides.

And, to add insult to injury, she once told me how easy I make travel seem. I mean, I am the one who meets disaster every time I travel. Who hates travelling alone, because I always worry I'll either forget something or lose something (although, to be fair, most of my travel disasters have happened when I've been in a group).

But then I thought about it, and I realised that in all fairness to her, I've never really talked about my travel stress. My tweets when I'm travelling are more along the lines of people watching and annoying airline people. So here, just for her, I put forward to you, all the things that stress me out when I travel. 

The thing I hate more than anything else, truth be told, is travelling alone. Which is how most of my travels have been for the past year, and I'll tell you why exactly it sucks. Because you have to lug your luggage with you everywhere. You want to go the restroom, or get something to eat (which in the case of O'hare is half a freaking mile away), or just check the latest flight status. You have to leave that precious seat next to the only functioning plug point, pick up all your luggage (because y'know, travelling light never does happen), and take it all with you. And then worry that you've left something behind, but don't know what it is, but you're sure you left something behind. Plus there's no one to really share all the little annoyances and quirks that you see in people around you that never really come out right when you relate them to people later.

And then there's security checks at airports. Which I loathe because they bring out all the clumsiness in me. Is it just me who thinks everyone else going through the process of taking off shoes and pulling out their laptops looks so damn self-assured and graceful while doing it? I seem to go all thumbs when it's my turn, and I always feel like everyone behind me is cursing how slow and stupid I am.

Which brings me to my biggest pet peeve: Perfectly groomed women. You've seen them. Heck, you probably are them. Colour-coordinated wardrobe, walking confidently in their five-inch heels, hair perfectly straightened, pulling their very stylish strolleys behind them. No matter what time of day or place it is.

My approach to catching early morning flights, especially when I was working, was usually getting into the most comfortable outfit I have, landing at my destination, and using the airport's washroom to do my minimal amount of make up etc. But there are all these women who surround me at the check-in counter even at 5 AM in the morning who look so put together that it is thoroughly intimidating. Not to mention those women who look as fresh at the end of an exhausting, crisis-filled day as they did in the morning. Me? My kaajal smudges within minutes of being put, no matter which brand (except Bobbi Brown, my latest discovery. Ladies, doesn't smudge. Truly.) or which season it is. How do they do it?!?

I enjoy travelling, I do. I like seeing places, visiting new cities and towns, trying local food. I like watching people as they travel, I love watching the skyline of a city as a flight takes off or lands, or fields and towns go by from the window of a train or bus. I do enjoy all that. 

It's just that the process of getting to those moments is so very draining and stressful, that you very often forget what lies beyond what's happening. Which I suppose could be said of life in general.

So there you are, R. Everything that stresses me when I travel. Now if only I haven't given you new things to stress about.

NB: The title of this post is totally stolen.

where I go into outrage mode again

Exams always did make the blogger in me come out. Allow me to outrage for a while.

• Rape jokes are not funny. Calling a cricketer a "rapist" who "raped" the opposing team with his match-winning performance is not witty. Creating and sharing a picture of the vastraharan showing Malinga as Draupadi and Kohli as Dushasana is not amusing. It is lame and pathetic and disgusting, and tells me you're an asshole.
• Why is sharing stories from Gujarat 2002 being labelled as "spreading hate"? You hold your candle marches and "never forget" campaigns every year for those who dies in 26/11; why are you so resistant to remember those who were killed ten years ago in Gujarat? I'm appalled by some of the reactions Dilip D'Souza got when he shared some experiences for his visit to Gujarat in 2002 (Which, if you haven't read, you should. It's horrific, you will not want to, but you should. here:  https://twitter.com/#!/search/%23DDGujDiary)
• Why do Indians have this "kisi ko nahi batana" attitude all the time? I've always seen it at exam time, right from my college days. It took me a long time to realize that unlike me, who never studied and therefore meant it when I said "maine kuch nahi kiya", everyone else had finished the course twice over and were "revising" when they said the same thing. And it's hilarious how the Indian folks here in B-school do the same thing. And not just about studies. I asked a classmate if he's running for club president for the Indian student club, for Pete's sake. He said no. And when the platforms came out, there it was, his name, right up at the top. Why do people have to be so devious?
• Also, while I'm at it, Indian dudes in Amreeka trying to hit on women when they're drunk is both hilarious and embarrassing to watch.

There. I'm done outraging for now. I suppose I should get back to Corporate Finance. Sigh.

Visiting

I'll be in India in a week. Never have I been so glad that February is the shortest month of the year.

I'm coming to India on "work", technically. I'll be based in Hyderabad for a project, with the mandatory weekend trip to Agra, and a few days snatched at home in Delhi at the end of the trip. I'll be with 30-odd classmates, some of whom are Indian (well, of Indian origin), but many of whom aren't.

I don't know how to describe India to non-Indians. They keep asking me what it'll be like in Hyderabad. I don't know, I've never been there. I keep trying to explain that India is like Europe in some ways - 20 different countries crammed into one land mass. What I know of people in Delhi, Gurgaon, or even Kolkata, will not be true of people in Hyderabad.

I shared the odd YouTube video with my team, and one of my team mates discovered and sent us videos of Russell Peters. Our client sent us a guide to travelling in India, and a checklist of what we should or should not carry, which I have to say, is pretty comprehensive and accurate.

Different classmates seem to have varied beliefs and expectations about India. One guy wanted to know if he can wear shorts in Hyderabad. One girl wanted to know if we can fit in a tour of Delhi in the half day that we get there in transit. Someone else wanted to know what we should be eating and shopping for in Hyderabad. And then there was someone who asked  how we're supposed to handle communications, or if people in India have phones. And followed that up with asking if we'd get a chance to ride an elephant while we were there.

I don't know how to answer most of these questions. I'm going to be a visitor in my own country; how do I tell them what to expect?

Baby steps

I slept with the lights off last night. I realise that in the grand scheme of things, this is not a very big achievement, but bear with me a bit. I slept with the lights off last night, for the first time since my apartment was broken into and ransacked a week ago.

So fine. Clearly there is something about me that makes me an easy target for robbers and thieves. Yes, I have a history of getting robbed whenever I travel to Europe. And I was devastated after the incident in Italy, and it took me a couple of months to get to a point where I stopped breaking down over every other thing.

But  there is something particularly violating about your apartment being broken into, as opposed to being robbed on the street. To have someone enter your home, go through everything you own, turn every handbag they find inside out - it is, as someone said to me on twitter, like someone forced their way into coming and looking inside your life.

I've got on with life. You don't have much of an option, after all. And I've recovered much faster than I did two years ago. I've started sleeping with the lights off.

Now to stop getting startled every time the flatmate uses her key to open the front door and come in.

Baby steps.

Annual ramblings

I don't know how to write this post. I'm struggling to remember events from last year that meant something to me, but I can't. It's like, and I mentioned this at the end of my last post, that the first 7.5 months of 2011 simply didn't happen. Or belong to another life.

But so much did happen. And I want to get this post out there simply because I don't want those memories to disappear.

I knew, at the beginning of 2011, that one way or another, this year would bring changes to my life like never before. And so it was.

January was a flurry of travel, interview invites, application "dings", and what not. The cousin got married. Things in the workplace deteriorated to the point that I, for the first time in my life, started having panic attacks.

The grandmother fell and broke her leg and had to have surgery. I was sent to Kolkata on work so was able to go visit her. Said visit to Kolkata also showed me how the work culture of Bengal and how Bengalis are perceived by non-Bengalis, and while I could see what they meant, it saddened me. I may never choose to live in Bengal, but it's still where I belong. And it isn't nice to see how we ourselves are responsible for a lot of what had happened to the state.

February was rather dramatic. Some more dings came in, some interviews happened, some admissions also happened. The mother went to spend a month in Kolkata to take care of Mam. I went to spend a weekend with her, and had some craziness as soon as I got back, after which the father went to stay with her. Gave me a taste of living on my own; I wasn't too sure I liked it.

Work got even worse. A massive show down happened at work, after which I tried to resign, but got talked out of it by everyone around me. But given the calm feeling that came over me once I had decided, after all the panic attacks of the last couple of months, I knew I wasn't to last very long.

I turned 26 in March. Far less stressful than turning 25, for whatever reason. Sure, I'm old now, but it didn't bother me. As much. Maybe a little. Oh well. The mother decided to throw a birthday party for me, since this would probably be my last birthday at home. And when I say birthday party, I mean crazy shoes theme (which everyone but me took extremely seriously), back presents, balloons, all my closest friends with me, a "slumber party", CDs with random birthday songs playing all evening, etc. What can I say? My family takes birthdays very seriously.

March also brought the brother home during his Spring break, a visit I had known about since November, but which was a complete surprise to the parents. The best part about his visit? He was home, sitting next to me, the day the dream came true. I had refused to go on the annual office holiday, using his visit as an excuse. SO glad I did, because the admission news that really mattered came out the day my colleagues were leaving, and anyway, I would have missed the freaking World Cup if I had gone.

Geez. The World Cup. So much excitement. My biggest regret remains not being able to go see India play. I only went for the West Indies-South Africa match in Delhi, and that was just lame. But oh, the World Cup. What can I say about it that I haven't already? And how can I express my frustration at how we've played ever since? How sad is it that less than a year after that fabulous, fabulous win, I am *this* close to giving up on Indian cricket for the foreseeable future?

If the beginning of April was about the euphoria of the World Cup, end-April saw me really leaving the job. I put in my papers as soon as I knew I'd be leaving for the US in July, and I asked to be relieved by end-April so I could have time to get things done. In all fairness, they gave me a really sweet farewell, where I may have a said a bit too much, but managed to leave on fairly good terms with the people who mattered at any rate. What surprised me? Given what an obsessed workaholic I'd been for the last three years, I'd've thought I'd have missed the place a bit more once I left. But honestly? Zilch of that.

May was a rush to get things sorted, visa applications, travel bookings et al., and fit in a quick trip to Mumbai for a family function, where I sat surrounded by Calcuttans as they watched news channels breathlessly to see what the election results in West Bengal would be like. And then we left for the US to watch the brother graduate. Visited and fell in love with Boston, and followed that up with a visit to the godfather's home in London, and a loverly family holiday in Edinburgh, before we came back home.

June and July rushed by much faster than they should have. Preparing to leave home encompassed a thousand and one things, amidst all of which I had to make sure I could fit in a visit to Calcutta, get-togethers with friends, and time with the brother who was to leave for his job at the beginning of July. The gal pals, for the second time in my life, managed to put together a surprise party for me without me cottoning on. I'd make a terrible investigator type person. The father and I booked my tickets in a way that I would get to see Deathly Hallows 2, and so on 15th July, I saw movies in one day - DH-2, and ZNMD.

And then, despite all my attempts to stretch time as much as possible, the 19th of July arrived. And I let everything I had know for 26.5 years, and came here.

What do I say about the last 5.5 months of 2011? They've been stressful, crazy, exhilarating, exciting, and maddening all together. I've learnt so much - maybe not much academically, but about the person I am. I've started driving and cooking, discovered I'm more like the mother than I had ever realized, found out that I can be quite a pushover, and realized that I'm a complete hermit. I suck at networking, am absolutely incapable of enjoying myself at a party filled with loud music and flowing alcohol, love big cities and have no idea how to get a job.

I'm far more Indian than I had realized, I'm a lot more Bengali than I had ever imagined, and I am so utterly dependent on the father for any major decisions I take. The BFF is my lifeline no matter where I go in life, time zones suck because no one is ever awake when you have news to share, I hate marketing and love strategy, numbers and HR what really excite me in life, and grades do matter.

They killed GReader somewhere along the way in 2011, and I was more devastated than I had thought possible. Twitter is less of an addiction than I had assumed, and I have struggled to put together any worthwhile blog posts. The urge to write is there, but I simply can't anymore. Which is why this blog post has taken a month to be written, started in one way, and has ended so very differently.

Having the mother visit me for a month over winter break saved me in some ways, I think. Because it made me remember who I am, truth be told. I had lost myself while trying to adapt to this new country, this new life. Having someone from my old life here for a while was like having a totem with you when you enter a dream, in some ways. And I can already see the difference in me in the past two weeks since she left. I'm me again. In the way I talk, the way I interact with others, in the way I behave. And it's helping me cope.

So, 2012. What does it hold for me? I have no freaking idea. The last month has been utterly stressful with the job search taking precedence, and I have no idea if or when this will change. I really need to start saying no to people. I need to apply myself to studies a lot more. I need to hang out with the people I like, instead of shutting myself up at home and lurking on twitter. And I need to find a freaking job.

Here's hoping all, or most, of this happens.