(literally, the girl next door, in Tamil typically spoken by Brahmins)

Let’s start off by saying I’ve lived a life of privilege: born into a middle class, Indian upper caste family, with parents who didn’t think twice about my education, or bemoan the fact that their second child, me, was also a girl, and gave me three massive boosts in life:

1    independence to go out on my own

2.   an overseas education at 17

3.   allowing me to marry someone I “found”

And this someone I married, right now, has never stopped me from doing anything I’ve wanted to. And gives no place for sexism in our house or our relationship. He’s been super supportive in my decision to quit my job to figure out what next.

For all intents and purposes, the most important stakeholders in my life have been extremely kind to me. And I recognize these are things I’ve taken for granted that unfortunately very few others can.

BUT – all the same, there are little pesky things that nibble at everyday peace, which purely have to do with my gender. These come from not just from family, but friends, colleagues, others who feel they have any kind of a say in my life. The expectation to cook, somewhere be ‘respectful’ to my husband, the idea that ‘it’s okay’ that I take a break from my job because I’m  a woman and can afford that luxury (again, keeping in mind the privileges I listed earlier).

I’ll be lying if I say I’m not co-opting into some of these privileges. Despite being a self-aware, independent feminist, I grant myself some privileges because of my gender.

This series is an attempt to write about some of these that cross my mind. I’m not giving a number to this series; just a few rules, to keep me going:

1.     Each post will be no longer than 500 words

2.     As long as I’m writing (and am voluntarily unemployed), I will have at least one post a week

3.     This is all based on true events, primarily things that have happened to me

4.     As far as possible, I’ll try to make it fun! While feminism is a very serious subject, and I FULLY endorse it, I want to make sure I also lead a sane life by giving myself a break, asking questions, making un-feminist decisions with as much cognizance of my basket of choices as possible. I want to raise questions fundamental to feminism, but not want to get into jargon.

5.     Oh, and this is intensely personal, so if you’re going to get squeamish reading certain things, you have the option to leave my page.

6.     Finally, family and husband, I love you very much, and what I write here does in no way express any doubts on the love you have for me.

Out of pure lack of confidence in my ability to follow such goals in recent times, I’m only going to start posting these when I’m done with at least three additional entries!

I hope you like it, if you’re still one of those who happens to check my blog, or are patient enough to click through a link on Facebook or Twitter and land here!

And before you know it, so much has happened.

The rains are long gone, and the sun is shining so brightly that you beam in happiness when sunlight filters through your mesh windows into the room and casts its yellow glow on the wall.

The days are hot, humid and you constantly wipe your face as you try to recollect how the sun crept back into your life.

There are mosquitoes swarming the place, reminding you of last year’s Bombay winter that was mosquito-ridden and unexpectedly chilly – for in the last seven years, winter had just meant slightly less intolerable heat.

And then there are surprises. That tell you are special, that will change the way you look at some people, some places, some times of the day. That will leave you sighing in happiness, that will make you wish that unsettling, depressing feeling at the pit of your stomach can get drowned out in the shower. That will leave you a little surer of the future, and at the same time, a little more apprehensive. That will tell you things about yourself that you didn’t know.

And that’s how my September ends. 

It's the stupidest and most random title I have ever given to a post (it's worse than 'Random Ramblings-x' or 'What to name it') but the mind is simply panicking at the inactivity that the blog has seen in the last three months, so yes, whoever is reading this, just deal with it.

What can I say about the last three months? Life's gone through a whirlwind of change, mostly good, but bringing along with it confusion that I'm sure is turning my hair grey. Over the summer, Chennai happened, with yours truly gallivanting through the roads of her favourite city, on cars, buses, bikes and autos. By the beach, eating manga, candy floss, shooting balloons (would you believe it if I said I'd never done it before?) and chasing waves. Singapore happened, with the morning I landed nearly reducing me to tears with the overwhelming feeling of having never left. Of packed days of breakfast at one place, lunch at another, tea elsewhere, dinner somewhere. Cambodia happened, with beautiful temples, heart-wrenching displays of human cruelty, cheap food and lots of coconut water. Coimbatore happened, with lots of cooking and long chats with mom and dad. Dissertation happened, and I was witness to a myriad of mind-boggling views fellow humans hold about womanhood, independence and Indian 'culture'. Meeting old people happened, new, important friends were made. What else could one ask for in a two-month vacation?

Fast forward to the two months I've spent in Mumbai. Back in a hostel after four years, which, I must confess, I enjoy thoroughly (mostly because my hostel is kinda spanking new and has an awesome view and kick-ass breeze). I enjoy it thoroughly despite having to brush sometimes with scalding water in the sink (because of ingenious plumbing), deal with taps running dry a precious 20 minutes before class, sharing one common mirror with 11 girls in a wing, fairly unreliable internet, the neighbour girl who sings all the time, and being shocked that there is a maid who actually comes in to clean the room everyday, and the roommate who, despite this, sweeps and mops the room everyday. I enjoy it, probably because I know this is most likely the last time in my life I'll get to live in a hostel - yes, I might still rent an apartment for myself, but I'm pretty sure that never again in my life can I pay a fixed (down-to-earth cheap) rent for six months in a row and not pay electricity or water bills. It's blissful freedom, it's like my last shot at an innocent, fairly worry-free life. There's so much camaraderie in the wing with people I don't even know. There's so much fun in having people drop in and chat for a few minutes. Or in running one floor up and pestering your friends to give you food, and then ending up spending a whole hour there yapping and laughing or discussing crucial issues of feminism, jackasses on campus to be dealt with and soul-searching-important-to-life decisions. Or lounging about on the sofa on the corridor as long phone conversations go on, walking and feeling the breeze blow the rain on to you, or flipping through the day's papers absentmindedly while on the phone.

It is such a fun time to live through. Despite the many questions of so many types suffocating my thoughts.

More than anything, I'm happy the blog has been revived ;) 

Somebody decided that studying development would involve a lot of economics. And somebody in my university decided that we would do economics a lot (times) lot. And these somebodies are currently ruining my life and sleep.

I agree I should have studied these earlier, when they were being taught in class and I either vigorously nodded along – they all seemed to make sense then – or was nodding anyway – off to sleep. I agree that it’s four days before semester exams begin and I have no business talking about life or sleep, but you can read whatever I’ve said even through my college days, and life and sleep do not take a back seat ever in my life.

So right now, I am breaking my head over one blessed, Nobel laureate soul named Solow. Tagging along are his brethren Barro, Martin, etc. Somebody decided that they could randomly start off with an equation g(t) = a + by_o. Who said that was ok? What is ‘a’? What is ‘b’?! (They thankfully decided to clarify y is income). As if this wasn’t annoying enough, somebody decided to have fun and replace ‘a’ with alpha and ‘b’ with beta – really, what are you trying to pull here?! I know economics isn’t my strength at all, but I am a fairly logical person, but here all I see is a flagrant flouting of any kind of logic.

The other thing that really annoys me is how they quickly ‘assume’ things to ‘simplify.’ Let’s assume that labour productivity is constant. Let’s assume that all savings are invested. To simplify, let’s just divide both sides of the equation by L. I don’t know how it works in your world, but in mine, these aren’t simplifying things. And if you’re simplifying everything, please could you care to explain how these models can, in any tiny part of the world, help us understand the goings on in the economy or be used to predict the path of development most suited to them? Seriously, if you assume labour productivity is constant or that savings are invested, you’re assuming wrong. Get a reality check!

As I struggle to see how anything that any of these intelligent men said makes sense in the larger picture, the sample question paper from last year tells me to stop bothering and simply learn them by hook or by crook (the ‘crook’ method is what’s working now, with random ways of remembering models slowly beginning to be employed). I shamefacedly lament the lack of opportunity to write anything based on general observation or experience. I can’t help but laugh thinking of the plight of the poor professors who have to assess these (well, my) papers and imagine the looks of incredulity they might give at the absolute rubbish they will encounter. Too bad.

All I know is in just about 11 days, all of this will be over, and there will be a two-month break before the next bout begins. Wish me luck as I brace myself to delve deep once again into the world of misplaced letters, incomprehensible graphs and incongruous oversimplifications. 

And a much awaited journey came to an end as I stepped out of the Emirates flight and immediately took off the fleece jacket that had saved me during the cold and windy days in Greece and Istanbul. Directing the cab driver to my apartment, telling him which 'deck' to stop at, and simply looking at the red-and-cream apartment buildings, simply felt weird. All I could think of was if I had really lived here before, gone to see some of the most beautiful places in the world, and actually returned. The mind was playing tricks, I was disoriented.

It's 1.30am now, and I'm wide awake, working on Spark, typing this and that, and looking at the photos from the 12 days I spent there, memories of roads made of cobbled stones, cafes and people watching, innumerable 'Hello ladies, are you from India?' questions, stuffed peppers, handsome European and Turkish men, 4-euros-for-half-a-litre housepour wines, of digging my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket to shield them from the freezing cold, and even thinking what kind of warmth holding a cigarette (and maybe taking a puff!) would bring. It's not fun to be jetlagged and thinking of what's gone by - and so quickly at that, I should add.

The ever optimist I am, though, I'm glad to have been there, done it - and to be back. Glad to be able to walk barefoot on the floor, wear shorts, not layer two tees to keep me warm, and weirdly, even craving to have my tau-guah noodle with chicken rice chilli and teh-c, to enjoy everything Singapore while I can. And I'm going to try to fall asleep, thinking of the Ayasofya ceiling, the awe-striking cliffs of Meteora, the Blue Mosque lit at night, the view of the Parthenon from every road, and the brilliant blue of Santorini's waters.

More on the trip, the sights, the people - weird, interesting, creepy, the food and everything else - hopefully coming soon!

Hey kiddo,

I wonder if cricket is still big in India in your time, or if football or basketball has usurped its place. Anyway, in this short letter you'll learn about a historic moment for the game, how I lived through it and simply how it felt.

Growing up, we all heard about 1983 and Kapil's devils, and photos of a grinning, mustached Kapil lifting the cup were immortalized often. We're talking about the cricket World Cup, held once every four years. 1983 was before my time, but after I'd turned 10 or so, I used to watch every World Cup, and watch India lose. Sri Lanka won under chubby Ranatunga's captaincy, and even Pakistan (oh, Pakistan) won it one year. Australia - those arrogant men, as I often considered them then - won it twice too. India would get kicked out miserably, unceremoniously, and I used to watch my grandfather switch off the TV, disappointed and retire into his bedroom. Then in 2003, magic happened - we got into the Finals. Against Australia. Twenty years after we'd won previously, and the whole nation was on tenterhooks. All until we bowled our way terribly out of any hope for victory. 2007 was disastrous, let's not even get into it - you can search online if you want to know more about it.

Then 2011 arrived. We worked our way into the Quarter Finals, with some hiccoughs along the way... drawing a match with England, losing to South Africa, but pulled off awesome wins against Australia and Pakistan.

And bloody hell, we were in the final. Against Sri Lanka. So I ended up at the same place I'd watched India beat Pakistan, at the same table, with the same people. Endless baskets of fried potatoes in various forms, towers of beer, stuffed-with-cheese pizzas went around, and we watched Sri Lanka struggle to get a good start. Until this guy called Mahela Jayawardane started getting consistent and steadily moved from 50 to 60 to (before we knew it), 100. We watched in shock as every ball in the last few overs was sent to the boundary, and ended with a target of 275 to win the World Cup.

Shocked as we were, oh well, we thought, we have Sachin and Sehwag. Sehwag then got out on the second ball. Sachin, please stay, we implored. He smashed some balls to the boundary, and then got out too. A hush fell around the pub. Then new players came in and we successfully brought the score to 30 to win from 30 balls. 27 from 24. And before we knew it, it was 15 from 12. A six, a couple of fours, and we were going deaf - party horns, cheering, whistles abounded as we finally brought it to 4 runs needed. We held our breath as Dhoni lifted the ball to the air, and the whole place exploded. People had climbed onto the bar tables, random people were hugging each other, and despite all the screaming, some idiot of a man asked me if I was Sri Lankan and if that was why I was not happy - I gave him a look of utter disbelief until I waved him off and said 'Whatever!' 28 years we had waited, and it had happened.

Anyway, we left the place we'd hogged for nearly 9 hours, ordering endless plates of food and drink. A place where we saw kids a few years younger than us - a whole batch of bimbotic (would you even know what that means, I wonder...) girls and boys who made me feel old and incredibly mature. Boys who were saying the lamest of things, and girls who were extremely unintelligent - generally and when it come to cricket (they cheered for replays of wickets without realizing they were replays; and sample 'Oh I wait for the umpire to lift his forefinger in the air before I cheer for a wicket' - please, don't ever be like this).

I wish I could tell you how it was, but imagine me, the tricolour painted on my right cheek, hands up in the air, screaming my head off, my voice breaking, jumping. I wonder if you'll ever live through the excitement of waiting for years for a win and savouring it, and whether sportsmanship is the same as it was that day (although my own parents used to tell me that it was already on the decline then). Would you ever experience  cricket like we did, the way it brought the fans, the non-fans, the seldom-watch-it-ers together, and the agony, anguish, grief and debilitating joy that it brings?

Oh well. Writing this while grinning excitedly was draining enough. And anyway, here is the gist of this story in case it didn't clearly come through given the late hour and incredible excitement: I WATCHED INDIA WIN THE WORLD CUP!!!!

I have finally turned 24. I say finally, because I have long considered myself to have turned 24 - don't ask me why.

This is probably the first birthday I haven't greeted with bursting enthusiasm, with plans for the next year, and a constant grin on my face. Perhaps a sign of wisdom finally creeping in? Oh well, time will tell - for all I know, tomorrow I will get to work and swear reasonably loudly whenever I see an email that annoys me, or laugh like a fool at the lamest of jokes.

As listed to my wonderful colleagues who graciously agreed to do a vegetarian lunch in honour of yours truly today, these are my priorities for the 25th year in life:

- Travel more
- Take more photographs
- Be even more chilled in life. Boss interjects saying I'm quite there already, but I think it can be much better - I've decided I should up the ante a little bit there.

And I decided to shamelessly check what I put out on Oct 4, 2009 and evaluate myself:
- put even less tension: CHECK!
- write more: CHECK! Thanks to Spark, that is!
- sing more: CHECK! If all goes well, I shall continue to strain my throat and perform early next year.
- read more: CHECK, going on as usual. The library is being massively built!
- put the blessed d5000 to good, frequent use: CHECK! Nearly a thousand photos in one day, most of which I can daresay look pretty good.

Given my reasonably low goal-setting habit, I have done well and am immensely pleased. Now as 25 begins, and I enter it a little hesitant as I'm painfully aware of the possible changes it heralds, all I can say is hope it's all for the best!

It’s been ages since I sat down and typed anything sensible in my blog – I must say I’m getting really depressed with the quality of all the writing I’ve been churning out lately; they all just go to show the state of mind I have been in all these days – confused, aimless, happy at times and unhappy quite often too – and one look at the archives of the blog was enough to irritate me into consciousness.

The blog was started when I was new and wide-eyed in Singapore, and those were days when I had something to write about everyday. I am stunned at how these days I hardly make a joyous note of the insignificant things in my life that brighten my day. Guess working does that to people, and I hate it. Working has made me busy, uninspired, mechanical, and don’t get me wrong – there is nothing wrong with my job itself, I love it for all its nice and makes-you-want-to-break-something moments, it’s equally rewarding – but working itself, has changed me. I’m no longer carefree, I realized, and I don’t like that at all. So, well, I decided to spend some good time writing about all the insignificant but momentous things that have been going on in my life these six months of working (gosh, it’s really been that long??).

Graduating. It was joyous, but really felt like I was leaving something of my life behind. Irresponsibility, innocence, the freedom to commit mistakes, starry-eyed-ness about pretty much everything. Campus walks, project-cursing, the benches. And sigh, even exams.



The house. It’s a simple, lovely house where the landlord has generously left behind his stuff that we have conveniently gotten used to using for ourselves. The room I took has a bookcase. Pretty much why I took the room even though it’s small and hardly has a cupboard and didn’t even have a mirror when I moved in. But the bookcase, wooden, light brown, mounted on the wall, really tempted me and I knew I should have it filled. I’m well on my way! (Ignore the fact that it's the bookcase that has to hold anything that won't fit in my silly wardrobe that can ONLY hold my clothes on hangers!) Look at the books! Making way for more..

The work. I have been enjoying, much to my surprise. It’s fun to learn new things, and sometimes it’s good to do things well for that rare element of praise that comes your way. I know – I have to grow up, but heck, I’ve just been working 6 months. Only thing I don’t like as yet is the loss of being/thinking irresponsibly, of having to think twice before narrating your weekend screw-up with the danger that your colleagues think you’ve lost it looming heavily around, and finally, the horrible branding of ‘cute’ on you. While it feels nice to be the youngest in the team, sometimes I feel childish and like I know nothing. Not to say of the millions of times you feel like an idiot for having to ask how to reply to an email or handle a situation. Well, you gotta learn!

Movies, music. So many to even remember and list since I started working. Why, I watched a movie on my first day of work too! Kung Fu Panda. Hilarious. Been enjoying all the best animation, the latest being Bolt – totally worth your time! Music has been keeping life together as strongly as ever. Even during the fifteen minutes I have in the morning between my shower and leaving for work, I switch the computer on for a loop of the one song that totally fits the mood of the morning. The favourites have been Jashn-e-Bahaara, Iravu Nilavu, Taxi Taxi, Tu Bole Main Boloon, Manmohini Morey, and recently, Guzaarish and Kaise Mujhe. The CD collection is growing, thanks to my proud contributions from my salary. Yuvvraaj kinda disappointed me as I could not find his usual brilliance – and I thought Ghajini was another disappointment until I got hooked to most of the songs. Waiting for the movie to release – should be worth a watch.

There was a karaoke session in between too. Three hours of non-stop fun, where my friends were treated not just to songs they knew but even ‘Engeyum eppodhum’ from Ninaithale Inikkum, ‘Oru maalai’, and to my utter delight, ‘Pudhu Vellai Mazhai’ and songs from ABBA too! While my throat ached with the sudden overuse for singing, I realized with horror that probably the only sruthi I could sing in these days would be naalarai kattai. At this rate I’ll end up like DK Pattamaal. Shit.

Otherwise… there have been some travel trips. One to Batam, Indonesia for voluntary work, another to Bintan, Indonesia that had the most beautiful beaches I'd seen (the photo - there's the beach, the music and a book - ice cream was the only essential thing missing!). There was also a short trip home during which all that happened was rain, rain and rain like it was the end of the world. It was great fun with my sister’s baby boy and watching his antics and carrying him to various corners in the house and showing him ‘apple’, ‘rat’ and ‘bananas’ off the huge picture of Ganesha in the living room. Miss the boy terribly.

Life still seems to be a dream, like I am living someone else’s life and not mine. Isn’t that a horrible wake-up call? I mentally make a note to start off with various things like continuing my German, learning to swim and paint, but things don’t seem to stick. Maybe it’s time for my first new year resolution! Well, I’ll make it later :D

(I know, even I'm getting tired of announcing this-and-that in my blog, but that's pretty much what I am doing these days - looking forward to things to make life seem good! Not that it's bad, though!).

We've moved in! Hostel life officially came to an end almost 2 weeks back, when we finally brought in our things from here and there and started 'living' in our house. Other things took longer, and it was only today that I finally got my desktop a wireless USB adapter and finally came online!

And so, I waited for a week to write what I thought of Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na.. What do I say? Bloody entertaining! And very, very cute and magical. It's cliched and everything, but it's the movie I'll associate my end of college with. Of course, the movie has the same theme, but everything about the movie was so thoroughly enjoyable and things you could relate to - which I believe very few directors have been able to achieve!

And the songs.....wooohoooo! For the first time in my history of AR Rahman movie watching in Singapore, where I clap with uncontrollable glee every time his name comes on the screen, some guy sitting in the row behind mine commented 'Why so much happiness for this?!' and I wanted to say, I'm-super-excited-and-the-title-is-my-favourite-track-and-the-title-song-looks-so-bloody-nice-
what-more-can-I-ask-for.

That says it, I guess. I totally, totally loved the movie for everything it was, it's funny, magical, cute, entertaining, dumb and silly moments. Coz it was just what life was till a very few days ago.
RANDOM.

Another goodbye post! And this time, it's a biiiig goodbye...

Goodbye to college life. To life as a student. To life where you could still afford to be careless, dependent, childish.

Sigh, 4 years gone by in a flash! I can still remember how my major enthusiasm to come to Singapore (only besides the course) was to live in a hostel! (Lame as it sounds, it's true!) And I've enjoyed it every bit. It's here that I saw who I really am, and it's here that I got to know what my priorities in life are!

I'll miss the campus like crazy. The weird canteens, the roads, the moon obsession, my 4th year room whose window I would sit at if bored, the cluttered cork board, the regular trips to the library and the wonderful minutes spent just staring at the books, the movies on LAN, the innumerable FRIENDS episodes, the long walks, the brown benches where I spent half of my school life in meetings, oh, I could go on and on!

It's such a weird feeling, as I realize this is the last blog post from campus. There are so many "lasts", and I'm trying desperately not to simply think too much of them. Ah, it's ok, everything good has to come to an end - because it has to give way to something better!

And with hope in my heart, I step out to the 'real world', and hope it's not too bad. Now it's time for a walk across my favourite stretch.
Goodbye, to my lovely other home.

P.S.: Chennai, here I come!

... I'm just out of my last ever class in University.

Wonder how many years it's gonna be before I get back into a lecture, and well, if I ever will!

Loved you, uni. Loved you way too much, dear course. I'm SO GLAD I had no second thoughts about the course. And that I didn't decide to do engineering to only wish every other day that I'd done what I always wanted to do.

The urge

When there is too much work, when there is too much in my head, when sad, happy, excited, or tired. When the mind longs for fresh air, and strongly desires to be away from people.

The timing

Always close to midnight, the ghostly 12 midnight hour.

The place

Straight ahead from the hostel, to the other section where there are only trees, orange hues, the chill air, long shadows, silence, calm. Hardly any people other than the occasional jogger or the intermittent car or McDonald’s delivery guy.

The music

Whatever the iPod plays. Loosely lodged in its black pouch, held carelessly yet lovingly by the owner. Frequently taken out to repeatedly play the song that comes up by chance but perfectly suits the mood.

Me.

A wandering soul at midnight. Wantonly leaving her glasses behind so she doesn’t have to do any socializing and just look away without being able to recognize who that person far away is. Looking back and deciding to skip a bit, trot, and very often, break into song. Watching the people at the first section walk briskly, surprisingly in tune to her song. Grinning and guffawing at anything and everything. Standing with arms hugging herself when there is a cold breeze. Wondering if the song is in adi thaalam or rupakam. Walking through the groups of unknown Indian people, certain for some reason that she would their topic of discussion once out of earshot. Walking on even though the right knee suddenly starts aching slightly. Walking on and on till the staff quarters that are flooding the road with light, which she doesn’t like. Sometimes, cutting right into the staff quarters and walking to the 24-hour shop and getting an ice-cream cone for her to devour and enjoy. Walking back unmindful of the stares that come her way when she (unsuccessfully, many a time) tries to manage the wallet, cell phone and the iPod. Climbing the five floors up to her hostel and laughing at the end when she reaches room, panting, with beaming a victorious smile, mind now uncluttered, fresh and happy.

Triggered by a visit to the food court nearby for 'Prata' for dinner, I am here to write the first of what I hope is a good series of memories from university. Fondly (!) called 'PP' by the Indians in my univ, Prata Point changed from a place whose very name I sneered at in the beginning to one where I go quite often (that even my mom asks if I had prata!).

Be it the plain (kosong!) prata or the yummy chilli-cheese-onion prata or the funny banana version, pratas have become a refreshing change to both canteen food and my cooking :) [Ah, my cooking deserves a whole special post of its own!] Ordering the prata with sambaarrr and not sambal (chicken curry!), watching the stall guy earnestly speak Tamil to my non-Tamil speaking friends, the smile he has for his regulars, the cigarette stench of the place, the nonchalant men with their bottles of cheap beer, people of all kinds with plates of steaming food, the plump drinks stall ladies asking us if we'd like anything to drink, have all become so normal it's tough to think of them as something acquired more during the last year than earlier.

But whatever said and done, pratas will remind me most of the irritable lady in one of the canteens who chops chicken and pratas alike in the same chopping board before giving them to the customers, and my angry retort when I realized she does that: "Don't touch my pratas with that knife!"

Little wonder she always barks at me.

Pratas. Not parathas, not paranthas.
Pratas.

Thanks to blogger hautestuff for the image.