Why Life really sucks sometime....

To be given the power to dream when you're not gonna be given the dream; to see it so clearly, that you can reach out and touch it, almost, and then to watch it dissolve. Why the sadistic joke, God?

To all the people who read my blog to find out what I'm not upto- part 2

To those who were wondering whatever happened to me, with much sorrow I say this- "I was too busy to write." (Gasp!)

Again I am too bored to formulate paragraphs plus I have already repeated the following content several times to several friends and family members and there is a limit to even my ability to say the same stuff over and over again, so I'll pretend I'm writing a not-so-substandard blog post and you can all pretend that you like it. Those of you kind enough to take the pretense a little bit further to leave glowing remarks and comments, I shall forever be indebted to you.

Chennai airport had tightened up security in the days prior to and after the Independence day (India's Independence day btw) so visitors were not allowed into the sendoff area. So alas, I had no company inside the airport except my mom of course (to the uninformed, my mom works in Air India so I can afford a few perks like this). Got teary eyed at several points in the last few days, some out of frustration and some out of nostalgia. To all my family members who came to say goodbye, to the friends who came to help me pack and ended up lazing around and taking pics of me doing it instead, to the friends who kept me on the phone till the second I boarded the airplane, to the friend who realized at the very last second that "Oh shit, you're leaving for real!", to the friend who sent a last optimism-booster message, to the parents of friends for their blessings and for their pride, I heart you!

The flight to KL was expected. Alas! I didn’t land a hot Vinay look-alike in the seat next to mine but I did get a certain kind Mr.Wong who helped me load and offload my luggage from the ovehead compartment AND offered me his magazines AND the last glass of juice from the tray when the airhostess ran out of them just as she reached our row. Ah! So chivalry is not dead after all! KL airport was 'OMFG brilliant'. For all you brand droppers out there, it had everything your wildest dreams could possibly conjure. It took every last ounce of social etiquette in me to not behave like a complete boor and start snapping pics of myself in front of Prada, Gucci, Versace….. someday, someday I will earn enough to shop there!

The next part of the flight (KUL-LAX with an hour's stopover at taipei) was boring to say the least. Tried seeing movies for a few hours, got bored, tried watching White Collar and other series for a few hours, got bored, tried watching powerpuff girls and dexter's laboratory for a few hours, got bored, tried learning french and italian in the e-learning module for a few hours, got bored after I got past arrivederci and je'taime, spilt water in the seat next to me thereby driving the poor lady and my only neighbor away, tried eating exotic sounding sea food and experimenting with the cheap on-flight wine, tried sleeping just to forget the cramps in my leg (Damn economy class!), tried not bursting into tears until I finally, finally and that’s a big finally, landed in LAX.

LAX was nice but after KL airport even that seemed small and shabby. Anyway this time there was no kind Mr.Wong to help me and I had to lug all my suitcases myself. Ran around in circles trying to find the cheapest mode of transport to my temp accommodation, finally got tired and caught a cab. Cab driver gave me a rose to welcome me to America and complimented my very Americanized pronunciation. The first time some guy is giving me flowers and it had to be from a cab driver! Oh well! But since I paid the equivalent of a train journey from Chennai-Delhi for that 20 mins trip, atleast he made me feel comfortable in it.

The next few days were a flurry of emotions, all of them extreme. The university is beautiful, the area is fuck expensiv, people are kind and hospitable, weather is awesome though I have tanned a lot from all the walking around that I do (I would have lost 5 kgs by now, so that’s an upside). Found a place a block away from my department building. Its very beautiful and I'll upload pics of it soon. Moved in and spent a sleepless night all alone in there. Alternately starved and gorged on fast food for the first week till I fell sick. Cried myself to sleep the first few nights from the frustration of trying to adjust to the complete lack of space that comes from living along with 10 other people in a 2 Bedroom apartment, until I got sick of it and chose sleeping alone in my new but also cold, dark, unfurnished apartment. Struggled with 6 bags of groceries up 5 blocks all alone till a couple of fellow tamil batchmates rescued me (for a short distance anyway). Got helped by totally random strangers on the road but also got cussed at and called gypsy and a lotta assorted four letter words by a few narrow minded, punk headed, prejudiced assholes. And all of you who argue that money doesn’t buy happiness, eat your words. The friendliness and general buoyancy of the people is directly related to the area they live in. Near my university, everyone is rich, everyone is relaxed and everyone is happy to help. In fact they go out of their ways to come and offer help even when I don’t need it. But when the minute you step off your bus (or car) in downtown you can feel the discontent in the air, like steam rising from the sewage (insert numerous other cliches to be found in pulitzer prize winning books) and things get all creepy crawley and you have to watch out not to get gang raped or shot or stabbed.

Life is great tho. Even with these minor issues. Living and loving every minute and missing all you more. Am now chatting from an illegal wireless link so I'll log off before I get thrown in jail. Arrivederci:)

To all the people who read my blog just to find out what I'm not upto

I'm writing again after a long time. For those of you who wondered about the break, it is not for lack of topics to write about or even worse, that I was too busy to write (*shudder*). It is just that right now I am too restless to sit still for a few minutes and patiently formulate sentences and paragraphs. So if my post is slightly substandard or ends up sounding like ramblings on a gtalk conversation, I hope you would find it in you to forgive me or clear the hell out of my page.

Preparations to send Divya to the big A have started full fledged at my home. The whole family (minus me) is running around, looking busy, announcing to everyone in sight that I'm leaving to the US of A (California pora, very nice climate you know. LA, the place with all the stars!) And since I'm the latest export to US, everyone who has a son/daughter abroad (which includes almost everyone in my family) has some advice to give and some contact or trivia to remember. And much to my surprise, most of them are quite useful. Like the paati who said there was a temple in Malibu which is an hour's drive from LA and which serves nice Indian food in the canteen. Me, being the girl who had long previously researched all beaches and nightclubs in and close to the city and ignored more practical necessities of student life (like Indian food serving temples), found this grandma-interaction session quite informative. The same paati also advised me very strongly to visit Vegas (I swear I have the coolest globe trotting grandmas in the country). And once the contacts-and-trivia-and-i-know-so-much-about-the-US session is over, every conversation takes the same bent. "Come back," they say. I assure them that I will. They give me a skeptic look and shake their heads. Then they give me a 500 Rs note (Yes!!! The part I've been waiting for!) and bid me farewell. And I drive away while they stand alone in their balconies thinking of their sons and daughters and grandkids in the US, the ones that left and never came back.

I went to Tirupati this week, the fulfillment of a promise I made to my grandma to take her there. Having never been to Tirupati before and not knowing what to expect, it was a shocker of a first time. The long wait, sure I saw that coming. What I didn’t was that I would be shuffling along complaining about leg painand improper management while grandmas and grandpas several decades older than me be running happily, all the while shouting "Govinda Govinda" at the top of their voices. Now, that, was a humbling experience. At one point when I was sick of all the standing around and waiting endlessly and was about to bite off an acidic comment about the poor organisation, a probably in her 60s lady next to me said "Avar azhaikum bodhu namma povom" which loosely translated means that when He is ready to see us, He will call us. That kinda shut me up. And when I first saw the gold-plated domes of the sanctorum, I went "wtf???" in shock, only to have my mom give me the evil eye. The sheer frenzy and faith of the devotees, the opulence and beauty of the temple itself combined with the sleep deprivation of the night before almost brought tears to my eyes. And we got lotsa laddus too. One question though. Why are so many of our temples built on hilltops?

More friends left this week. So more goodbyes to tell. Packing for Maya, sticking labels on her suitcases, checking and rechecking and re-rechecking her documents, knowing that exactly a week later it would be my turn…. Sigh! A lotta pals have promised to come and help me pack too. What will I do without them! Every other day, I go to Anjana's place and talk to her mom and tick off things while she runs through a mental checklist of things to do and stuff to take. Meanwhile Anjana and her roommates promised to give me temporary accommodation in LA if I cant make other arrangements (so I wont stand in the airport with no place to go like Aishwarya Rai from Jeans and no cute looking Prashant will ever rescue me:() My total journey duration is 33 hours, including the 6 hour stopover. Imagine me keeping my mouth shut for a little more than a day. I am keeping my fingers crossed for a hot guy like Vinay sitting next to me a la Unnalle Unnalle, but considering my luck, I'll probably get a seat next to a grumpy old lady or a crying baby. And the brat from Biz class has finally been forced to travel Janta class so I can see another humbling experience in the making.

Mornings are lonely. There is noone to call. Everyone I talk to when I have something to tell are either busy getting paid for staring at computer screens or are in another continent. Times like those suck.

I am standing in my terrace watching the rain clouds rumble over me. Monsoons are my favorite times of the year in Chennai, especially those days when it rains so hard that the government cancels schools and colleges and the electricity is shut down and the water comes to knee level but it still continues raining. I would sit in my balcony, my ipod plugged to my ear, some old book of my mom on my lap waiting to be read, messaging on my cellphone comparing statuses with my friends till the moment when my cell switches off by itself. Sometimes Bunty would sit next to me and we would stare pensively together at the flowing waters while some poor passerby waddles his way to work, drenched to the bone. I could write several chapters on the smell of earth wafting up to me and the resigned and adjusting nature of the Indian temperament in the face of adversity and probably win a Booker prize for it too, but I shall refrain. I will miss the coming 2 monsoons, possibly more. But even if I am here to witness them, I doubt I would have the same carefree monsoon-experiences of the last 4 years.

I am not one of these people who have a native place they travel to every summer. Chennai has been my only home. Sure, I love travelling but this has always been my base point, my touchdown point. Leaving the city I was born in, the city of my childhood, the place I grew up in, where I suffered teenage pangs in, where I fell in love in, where I roamed the streets and discovered hidden secrets in, where every passerby became an 'Anna' when I needed help starting my impudent Activa, where every bus conductor would make sure 'Papa' didn’t stand on the footsteps, where every friends' mother would feel compelled to feed you till you burst even if you are not hungry, where every random stranger on the bus would find it necessary give you advice on the proper use of cellphones, the city I played and studied in and the city that's sending me off for greener pastures in a week is a painful experience. Much more painful than saying goodbye to any person, family or friend. Every street corner, small wall, every song played on the radio holds so many memories. There is so much that I have not done here, so many places I have not seen. I would come back just for the city, just for this dot in the forehead of Tamil Nadu. I wish I could have told that to my Visa interviewer but I doubt he'd have believed me.

The next time I write I probably wont be in India but I'll make sure I upload loadsa pictures so all you people reading this blog in the dusty premises of Gurgaon and Mysore and Siruseri can burn in envy. Till then I remind you to call often.

No, I am not drunk.

There was a time when i had my relationships all figured out, my friends all classified and categorized into neat little boxes: ‘Best friends’, ‘Good friends’, ‘OK-ish friends’, ‘friends to suthify with’, ‘friends you call up’, ‘friends you message’.... it was a world with well-defined boundaries, well-recognized rules. Sometimes people would surprise me and consequently be promoted or demoted to the appropriate level. I miss that rigid world.

Now my world is fluid with relationships that shift and change in moments. People walk in from the periphery of my life and lay claim to it. People whom i considered to be the core of my life walk away or simply fade into obscure mists. Relationships, i can no longer categorize or define with boundaries or set down rules of exchange. And i, who have never been able to shut up, find myself at a loss for words to describe what i share with the people in my life. How do you explain something to somebody that you do not understand yourself? I start sentences that i cannot end. I stare vacantly at people who were once ‘Level 1-Best friends’ and wonder what changed. Some, i have lost to meaningless fights. Some, i have lost to lethargy, a listlessness that we allowed to let grow in our relationship and now we are too far apart with too many spaces between us that the only thing binding us together is a respect for the past, the time whence we walked the same path and looked at life with the same perceptions. And some have changed so completely that you no longer know whether it is they who have changed or whether it was you who’d judged them wrong the whole while, trying to fit them to an image in your head. Others, who wouldn’t have made the ‘friends you call up’ grade a few years back are now some of the people i cannot go a day without talking. One, whom i considered my natural sworn rival 4 years back (for liking the same guy), i talk to everyday and make giddy plans for the future with. And then there are the others. The ones who have always been there. The constants, who despite a few tumults and distractions and angry words and periods of cold accusing silences, have stuck. It is to those few that i dedicate this blog. To the ones who, even if they do not understand, listen to what i wish to say; the ones who, even if i can no longer relate to, i can always talk to (talk as in hold a conversation with as opposed to mindless empty chatter that mean nothing or endless reminiscences of the past); the ones you can laugh with over a drink at interviews and boyfriends and dumb vijay moviesJ

It has been a season of goodbyes, when my memories are reduced to snapshots- a group of 4 girls standing under the neon lights of Southern Residency watching as i walk to the bus, Rd standing outside a train beaming like an idiot, Mani sitting in a hotel explaining (his theory of) why coffee should not be taken together with breakfast, Anpu leaning in her balcony waving goodbye, a wierd call in the middle of the day saying ‘i love you’-snapshots that play an endless montage inside my head set to sappy friendship songs. A season of promises. A season of not knowing what to feel, too scared to hug and say the usual “goodbye, all the best, take care” combo because it sounds so final. A season of watching friends leave and counting down the ones still left and the days until you have to leave too. A season too sparkling with the possibilities of the future to regret or wish for the past. And a season that doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon. So till then, heres to more sad FB statuses and early morning trips to railway stations and listening to people crib about bad food and internet restrictions and training assignments. Hic!

P.S. May God bless TCS and the few other companies and universities who have delayed their joining dates to allow me the pleasure of the little company i have left. Amen.

How to write a romance novel

The following is a summary of any given Mills & Boon or Silhouette novel.

Note to Readers: Please do not be misled into thinking that this makes me an authority on Mills & Boon or that I am a big fan of their romances. My encounters with M&B were entirely for educational purposes only, as to the uninitiated teenage girl, they often serve as a huge repository of information on....er positions and a few other logistics and technicalities. In fact, I remember having clandestine group M&B reading sessions when I was in my 8^th std but I digress. So for any doubts and references, please contact Rd;)

Rich (possibly heir of a few millions), hot, handsome, tall, playboy hero meets poor (a little), beautiful, gutsy but naive heroine who probably has lost her entire family to a car crash and has to live with evil step-mom/miserly aunt/ kind grandma. They have a flashy first meeting, exchange a few barbs and discover they like exchanging barbs. Heroine thinks hero is conceited. Hero thinks heroine has pluck and is instantaneously attracted to her and her innocence. They argue and they argue and in the midst of it, discover they like each others’ company. Hero seduces heroine but convinces himself he is not in love with heroine. Heroine puts up a brave (though flimsy) front but ultimately gives in to her (latent) feelings and hero’s seductions. But when confronted with the reality of the power of their love, both lose their nerve. Heroine does not want to be the first to announce that she is in love because she thinks the hero is only stringing her along and has no feelings for her. Hero does not want to be the first to tell his love because he is macho and then the story would end early and the author would not get a chance to display the actual sweet, sensitive, mushy core of the tough hero in the final climax. Enter evil, rich, sexy (as opposed to sweet heroine) girlfriend (ex) of the hero. Girlfriend becomes jealous of heroine, realizes she is losing her throne to a Cinderella and decides to do away with her. Girlfriend meets heroine in private and tells her how hero is just using heroine for sex and how his status will be affected if he is seen along with heroine. Heroine convinces herself that her sacrifice is for the good of her love and leaves country. And oh yeah, she manages to stand up to her evil step-mom/ miserly aunt too and finally take control of her life. After heroine runs away, hero realizes how truly he is in love with her but believing the story told by jealous girlfriend, thinks heroine never really loved him and decides to let her go. But after a suitable moping period (usually 3 months), the kind butler reveals to the hero that all is not as it seems. Hero, after kicking jealous girlfriend and her social climbing mother out of the house, uses his vast resources to track down the heroine. They meet and after a touching reunion where both of them confess their love for each other, share true love’s kiss and live happily ever after.

Insert a few matter scenes here and there and a few corny dialogs like “You are my world now”, “My love, my life!” and you are set to write your own romance novel. Whats more, you might even manage to canoodle a few jobless gooses like Rd into buying your books. Happy writing! :)

Twilight, Conversations and Realizations

I was having a conversation with a friend yesterday and she was explaining to me why she did not like twilight.

“It ended too happily” said she. “Bella got everything she wanted-she got converted, a husband, a child, a family, a friend. Everything. It was too much. Meyer should have killed someone in the end, just to make it sound real. And made the ending more ambiguous.”

And instead of calling her a sadist, i actually agreed with her.

I don’t when exactly it happened, but sometime in the last four years I turned Cynical. Cynical to the point that in a story of vampires and werewolves, the only point that offended my (or I should say our) sense of reality was that everyone lived happily ever after as one big family.

I scoff at fairy tales, at driving into the sunset, at happily-ever-afters. As my friend pointed out, happily-ever-afters are boring. And unreal. I have come to point where I wouldn’t trust a happily-ever-after if it slapped me in the face. Unless there is a story of compromises behind it. I am not so far gone that i look for the catch in every situation or search for complications where none exist (as opposed to what some people think of me). And i am definitely more optimistic than most of my friends put together. But i no longer am the idealist dreamer I used to be. No longer believe that I can play solos like Slash. Or that World Peace can be achieved by a touching dialog in a Mani Ratnam movie set to A.R.Rahman’s background score. Or in guys who are smart AND strong AND sensitive AND open car doors for you. It’s not that i don’t want the aforementioned scenarios to happen. It's just that i cant believe they would be handed out on a platter like hot dogs in a ball game. As my friend said, easy victories are boring. There must be challenges. And problems we can laugh about later over a cup of coffee together. And for once, I agree with her.

Reasons why life really sucks sometimes...part 3

Some people have never heard of Guns And Roses let alone heard them. And there are people who think November Rain is not the best song of all time!