Marine Drive. Fort. Bombay Samachar (est 1822). Cafe Mocambo. Pasta Salad. Gayatri. Heaven. Home. Mocha (Juhu). Bloggers and Blogwhores - or friends? Expensive wine (didn't we order something for Rs.400?), Fondue and 'Tapas'. Broke. Brunch with Amisha. Nice. Carter Road. Nicer. Andheri Station. Crowded as ever. Churchgate, Oval Maidan, High Court, University - will I ever get tired of the sight? Jahangir Art Gallery. Samovar. Sweet Lime Soda. Gateway of India. Garishly done up South Bombay homes v/s charming South Bombay homes. Indigo Delicatessen. Delicious. Classy. Very Kunal and me :-) Dessert and Coffee at Cafe Basilica - Cranberry Cheese Cake. Scrumpilicious. Heavenly. Back home - exhausted, content. Slept like a log. Breakfast at Woodstock - Macchi Maar with mom's close friend. Gazing from their 11th floor apartment facing the sea, awash with memories of a rainy morning not so long ago :-) Strand Sale, next to Alma Mater (Arya Vidya Mandir Juhu) - very very tempting to splurge. Picked up books on design for big bro, baby books for nephew (his first books from Bookie Bua!) ...and had to curb my own purchases! It's ok - it's not the last Strand Sale ;-) Long wait for one-time student, now friend Shivaji (no he's not Maharashtrian - he's Bengali!). Coffee at Barista. Bike ride to Andheri Station. Quick rendezvous with Aparna - thanks again girl! Prithvi for Sweet Lime Soda and Momos with Shivaji (again). Simple but delicious dinner at Pizza Casa - Versova. Company? Kunal ofcourse - don't know anybody apart from us who actually eat at the place! Early night - earlier morning. Caught the 6.45 am bus back to Pune! YAWN!
Current mood - Content as a Cheshire Cat. Hear that purring in the background? That's me:-)
Monday, August 29, 2005
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Eklavya
One of my University professors was also a story-teller. She often does story-telling sessions (often contrapuntal) of fairy tales for children and is an excellent orator. So when some of us weren't too sure of a particular myth, she'd clap her hands togther, ask us to sit back in our chairs and announce "Story-time..." It's been a while since I heard that, but I know how much fun it can be, so here goes - Story-time folks!
Once upon a time there was a young man named Eklavya, who wanted to become the greatest archer of all time. Since he couldn't afford a tutor, he made an idol of the best tutor in the world, Draunacharya, and began practising archery in front of this idol. Now in India, a tutor (Guru) is revered like a God, so Eklavya would place flowers at the idol's feet and pray to this idol everyday before beginning the day's practice. Soon he became the most skilled archer around - on seeing proof of his skill, Draunacharya started feeling insecure that this boy whose background itself was suspect would rise above his own favourite student Arjuna. Tormented by the thought, he decided to exploit the boy's unwavering faith and loyalty to him - as a Guru he could demand Guru-dakshina (payment) at the end of the period of teaching. Draunacharya asked Eklavya to give his the thumb of his right-hand - and such was Eklavya's devotion to his Guru, that without a second's thought, he sliced of his thumb and humbly placed it at his Guru's feet.
(For a slightly less firang sounding version - read this.
This is one of the most popular stories to go around on the occassion of Teacher's Day - but I'm not recounting this tale to you to inspire in you feelings of utmost devotion and respect for teachers - if you ask me Eklavya should have shown him his middle finger instead of unflinchingly cutting off his own thumb and thus ensuring a life of unemployment and frustration for himself. ;-)
Since my examinations got over, I've been a little more helpful in the kitchen - not something I do willingly. It helps ofcourse that my brother is trying to cut down on his weight and has gone on a diet of salads and soups for lunch - an area of interest and relative expertise, as compared to the others in the house. So I step into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to slice the veggies, shred the chicken, toss the dressing, stir the soup...and get my brother's lunch ready before he leaves for work. On Monday, it was cabbage and apple with chives.
So there I was merrily slicing the cabbage nice and fine...slice slice slice and I neatly sliced my thumb along with the cabbage.
After much pain, blodd-loss and cursing those who don't make their own salads, I got my thumb bandaged. And then began the ordeal-
How does one eat food when the thumb of your right-hand is incapacitated? How does one prise open stubborn lids of air-tight boxes? How does one play with a boisterous dog? Or with a baby who thinks that all thumbs in vicinity must be grabbed hold of and stuck into the mouth? How does accept calls on cellphones/cordless phones? How the hell does one type text messages?
Sure, Eklavya didn't have to deal with most of these things, though as a man I'm sure he had to deal with other issues that I needn't be worried about ;-) Two days with a slightly incapacitated thumb and I'm climbing walls in frustration. Boy, does that man have my sympathies!
Once upon a time there was a young man named Eklavya, who wanted to become the greatest archer of all time. Since he couldn't afford a tutor, he made an idol of the best tutor in the world, Draunacharya, and began practising archery in front of this idol. Now in India, a tutor (Guru) is revered like a God, so Eklavya would place flowers at the idol's feet and pray to this idol everyday before beginning the day's practice. Soon he became the most skilled archer around - on seeing proof of his skill, Draunacharya started feeling insecure that this boy whose background itself was suspect would rise above his own favourite student Arjuna. Tormented by the thought, he decided to exploit the boy's unwavering faith and loyalty to him - as a Guru he could demand Guru-dakshina (payment) at the end of the period of teaching. Draunacharya asked Eklavya to give his the thumb of his right-hand - and such was Eklavya's devotion to his Guru, that without a second's thought, he sliced of his thumb and humbly placed it at his Guru's feet.
(For a slightly less firang sounding version - read this.
This is one of the most popular stories to go around on the occassion of Teacher's Day - but I'm not recounting this tale to you to inspire in you feelings of utmost devotion and respect for teachers - if you ask me Eklavya should have shown him his middle finger instead of unflinchingly cutting off his own thumb and thus ensuring a life of unemployment and frustration for himself. ;-)
Since my examinations got over, I've been a little more helpful in the kitchen - not something I do willingly. It helps ofcourse that my brother is trying to cut down on his weight and has gone on a diet of salads and soups for lunch - an area of interest and relative expertise, as compared to the others in the house. So I step into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to slice the veggies, shred the chicken, toss the dressing, stir the soup...and get my brother's lunch ready before he leaves for work. On Monday, it was cabbage and apple with chives.
So there I was merrily slicing the cabbage nice and fine...slice slice slice and I neatly sliced my thumb along with the cabbage.
After much pain, blodd-loss and cursing those who don't make their own salads, I got my thumb bandaged. And then began the ordeal-
How does one eat food when the thumb of your right-hand is incapacitated? How does one prise open stubborn lids of air-tight boxes? How does one play with a boisterous dog? Or with a baby who thinks that all thumbs in vicinity must be grabbed hold of and stuck into the mouth? How does accept calls on cellphones/cordless phones? How the hell does one type text messages?
Sure, Eklavya didn't have to deal with most of these things, though as a man I'm sure he had to deal with other issues that I needn't be worried about ;-) Two days with a slightly incapacitated thumb and I'm climbing walls in frustration. Boy, does that man have my sympathies!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
What Next?
So the exam has been taken - and almost forgotten by now! Never been one to conduct a post-mortem of any exam, specially since it goes against my philosophy about exams...so haven't done that this time either. But now that Diplome Superieur is behind me and the results can only be expected by end September (at the earliest)...I am wondering what next...
Should I succumb to the temptation of picking up another language or start hunting for a 'proper' (read full-time employment with regular pay-checks) job?
Should I succumb to the temptation of picking up another language or start hunting for a 'proper' (read full-time employment with regular pay-checks) job?
Currently:
- Reading Short Stories by Rabindranath Tagore
- Listening to Shakti - Lotus Feet
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Mirror Mirror on The Wall...
Don't tell me who's the fairest of them all...
But, pray tell me, why why why
Women must insist on acting coy and innocent,
And thus try and manipulate others,
When the one facing them can see through them,
And hasn't the patience for such acts...
Why why why
Do they thus merrily malign the reputation of our gender?
But, pray tell me, why why why
Women must insist on acting coy and innocent,
And thus try and manipulate others,
When the one facing them can see through them,
And hasn't the patience for such acts...
Why why why
Do they thus merrily malign the reputation of our gender?
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Bill-dill-blip-boo
I've never been one of those things you meet who coo at the very sight of anything below the age of 10 years and exclaim at how cute a baby is, irrespective of the fact that they've not even caught a glimpse of the baby yet or the fact that the baby is not so cute as it is a pain in the neck!;-) Infact,as I've said on this blog before, I usually start relating to my nieces and nephews once they've crossed the 10 year-mark, so when people questioned me abou how my feelings regarding the baby that was soon to join our family, I hadn't the faintest clue how to respond and generally offered rather non-commital responses from the book!
When my nephew Shaurya was born, for the first one month I didn't really have any feelings towards him. He existed. So did I. Beyond that, there was little interaction between us, specially since he slept alot, and when he was awake he was usually surrounded by an assortment of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...so, me being me, rationalised that he doesn't really recognise anyone so no point me joining the crowd and robbing him of much needed oyygen, not to mention ignoring other things that needed to be done.
But things gradually settled down at home - his maternal relatives went back to where they came from, giving me more opportunities to spend time qith him alone. He also started staying awake longer and displaying signs of a rapidly developing strong personality - he is a Shrivastava after all! And thus I began taking my first baby steps towards the tiny squalling, squirming bundle that smelled of milk most of the time! We had an agreement on sorts - as long as he was content, we'd keep each other company, but at the slightest signs of downslide in moods he'd promptly be transferred to more capable arms!
Oft he'd wake me up with his incessant bawling in the middle of the afternoon (or worse, night!) and give me much grief when he'd create a royal ruccus just when I'd started concentrating on something....and I'd groan thinking Vikram Seth was right in wondering why people are so crazy about babies -
I'd wearily drag myself out of my room and trudge over to see what was bothering him and why the mother and grandmother hadn't swung into action...only to discover two helpless women trying to figure out what this tiny male was upset about. Wasn't he too young to be causing them such grief? Ahem? Then, just as suddenly as he started crying, he would stop, peering over a comfortable female shoulder, his head bobbing around and break into a big toothless smile and declare his affection with a loud "Mbooo"...and I'd just stand there looking at him helplessly torn between the urge to go back to what I was doing, or take the smelly, funny bundle into my arms and give him a hug!
In the last one month, he has started conversing alot and he's quite verbose, when he isn't trying to figure out how to put his thumb in his mouth - he IS my nephew after all! At a few days short of three months old, he is one talkative dude! I've decided that he's going to grow up a mulit-linguist. He is going to be bi-lingual right from infance with his family speaking to him in a mix of Hindi and English, and he will definitely learn Marathi is he grows up in Pune. But, he's also going to pick up French from none other than Bua Constrictor a.k.a Bookie Bua who will ensure he reads alot and grows up to be a fine young man!
Below is an excerpt of a conversation I had with him:
Me: Hey hey dude, wassup in da hood?
Shaurya Shrivastava: *Gurgle* Phrrrrr!!
Me: Hmmm...interesting. Et quoi d'autre? (And what else?)
SS: Bill bill dill blip...
Me: Ah c'est cool. Mon jours n'etait pas si interessant...le cours etait assez ennuyant. Mais j'ai beaucoup bavarde aves mes amies...elles sont cool.Tu comprends? (Ah that's cool. My day wasn't as interesting...the class was quite boring. But I gossipped alot with my friends...they are cool. You understand?)
SS: Booo...blip blip...*Big smile*
Me (Folding his legs up against his tummy, just like he likes it) Ah, c'est un sourire sans dents! (Oh that's a toothless smile)
SS: *Laughs in delight*
Me: Ah, c'est un rire sans dents! (Ah, that's a toothless laugh)
SS: Mbooo...blip..dill..dill...
Me: Et...c'est un garcon sans dents...quel beau garcon est-il!(And that's a toothless boy...what a handsome boy he is!)
SS: Boooo...
He and I get along quite well, I think! :-)
When my nephew Shaurya was born, for the first one month I didn't really have any feelings towards him. He existed. So did I. Beyond that, there was little interaction between us, specially since he slept alot, and when he was awake he was usually surrounded by an assortment of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...so, me being me, rationalised that he doesn't really recognise anyone so no point me joining the crowd and robbing him of much needed oyygen, not to mention ignoring other things that needed to be done.
But things gradually settled down at home - his maternal relatives went back to where they came from, giving me more opportunities to spend time qith him alone. He also started staying awake longer and displaying signs of a rapidly developing strong personality - he is a Shrivastava after all! And thus I began taking my first baby steps towards the tiny squalling, squirming bundle that smelled of milk most of the time! We had an agreement on sorts - as long as he was content, we'd keep each other company, but at the slightest signs of downslide in moods he'd promptly be transferred to more capable arms!
Oft he'd wake me up with his incessant bawling in the middle of the afternoon (or worse, night!) and give me much grief when he'd create a royal ruccus just when I'd started concentrating on something....and I'd groan thinking Vikram Seth was right in wondering why people are so crazy about babies -
"Those idiots with insistent ids
Who yowl when their unbridled bids
For love or milk go unregarded
For seven seconds - or who bawl
For no substantial cause at all..."
Who yowl when their unbridled bids
For love or milk go unregarded
For seven seconds - or who bawl
For no substantial cause at all..."
I'd wearily drag myself out of my room and trudge over to see what was bothering him and why the mother and grandmother hadn't swung into action...only to discover two helpless women trying to figure out what this tiny male was upset about. Wasn't he too young to be causing them such grief? Ahem? Then, just as suddenly as he started crying, he would stop, peering over a comfortable female shoulder, his head bobbing around and break into a big toothless smile and declare his affection with a loud "Mbooo"...and I'd just stand there looking at him helplessly torn between the urge to go back to what I was doing, or take the smelly, funny bundle into my arms and give him a hug!
In the last one month, he has started conversing alot and he's quite verbose, when he isn't trying to figure out how to put his thumb in his mouth - he IS my nephew after all! At a few days short of three months old, he is one talkative dude! I've decided that he's going to grow up a mulit-linguist. He is going to be bi-lingual right from infance with his family speaking to him in a mix of Hindi and English, and he will definitely learn Marathi is he grows up in Pune. But, he's also going to pick up French from none other than Bua Constrictor a.k.a Bookie Bua who will ensure he reads alot and grows up to be a fine young man!
Below is an excerpt of a conversation I had with him:
Me: Hey hey dude, wassup in da hood?
Shaurya Shrivastava: *Gurgle* Phrrrrr!!
Me: Hmmm...interesting. Et quoi d'autre? (And what else?)
SS: Bill bill dill blip...
Me: Ah c'est cool. Mon jours n'etait pas si interessant...le cours etait assez ennuyant. Mais j'ai beaucoup bavarde aves mes amies...elles sont cool.Tu comprends? (Ah that's cool. My day wasn't as interesting...the class was quite boring. But I gossipped alot with my friends...they are cool. You understand?)
SS: Booo...blip blip...*Big smile*
Me (Folding his legs up against his tummy, just like he likes it) Ah, c'est un sourire sans dents! (Oh that's a toothless smile)
SS: *Laughs in delight*
Me: Ah, c'est un rire sans dents! (Ah, that's a toothless laugh)
SS: Mbooo...blip..dill..dill...
Me: Et...c'est un garcon sans dents...quel beau garcon est-il!(And that's a toothless boy...what a handsome boy he is!)
SS: Boooo...
He and I get along quite well, I think! :-)
Friday, August 05, 2005
Disclaimer
The post below is by no means meant to sound erudite, or a revelation of sorts. It was merely my rather indirect way of saying I'm back to normal and that those clouds casting shadows on my mood have been dispersed for now...the blog is, and always has been, mere random rambling by me and nothing remotely elitist or philosophic - God is my witness that philiosophy was never (and still isn't) my favourite subject!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Hmmm...
Last weekend was a slow weekend, and I indulged in alot of soul-searching, probing deep within the recesses of my mind, not to mention my heart, hunting for answers. I still haven't the answers to most of my questions, but as a friend said, why fret over what is yet to come, and more so, over what isn't in your control. Yes yes I know that...but sometimes you just have to stop and question. Would we ever get any answers if we didn't ever stop to ask?
Not all the questions were narcissitic - some leaned towards a more social issue. Traditions die. Conventions evolve. Societies metamorphise. It's the way of life - change is the only thing that is constant. Our own society has seen some very drastic changes in the last 5 years or so...and sometimes I find myself thinking like one of the elder generation and wondering where we are headed and questioning the merits of these changes.
I had opportunity to remark on a couple of these changes over the last few days:-
A friend has commented several times on my attire, when it happens to be Indian - I refer here to Salwar-kurtas, not clothes manufactured in India ;-) For him (yes it's obviously a man who'd comment on something of the sort) it is a 'formal attire' - and this he says is because everywhere he sees, women are increasingly seen in Western clothes - be it in college, cafes/restaurants/pubs/lounges, offices or just at home. When they do 'condescend' to wear a more 'traditional' attire it is invairably for a formal situation. When he first commented on this topic, I thought him off the rockers, for I know quite a few women in the 20s who don't live in just jeans/trousers. However since then I have started noticing - and it is true to quite an extent. There have even been times when I'm sitting in the food-court of a popular multiplex and apart from the Auntys (read 40+ women with a couple of children in tow) I am the only woman in a salwar-kurta. Not that I mind - I find the salwar-kurta just as comfortable as my faded, old jeans, or my skirts. Infact I love that slightly added bit of feminine grace the attire lends to my appearance when I don my kurtas...but it's also true that I think the Saree is to be brought out only for formal occasions, even while my mother finds herself at ease in Sarees and wears them most of the time.
Over the weekend I had to attend a Satyanarayan Katha and pooja - to which a dear friend commented that I seem to be suddenly attending too many of these 'religious thingys'. No, not the same friend, a different guy this time ;-) I objected loudly at the time, but it's funny how we ourselves have had two Satayanarayan Kathas since we moved to Pune, not to mention have attended atleast five and had a couple of traditional ceremonies held at home...I can't even remember the last time we had a Satyanarayan Katha in Bombay, or for that matter attended one! Anyways am digressing - the point being, that there I was, sitting in the Katha and most of the women around me - for some inexplicable reason we continue to sit in two groups of the "ladies" and "gents" during all such occasions - were a generation elder to me. They started discussing the various Kathas, Kirtans, Bhajans and Poojas being held in our residential complex during the course of the week. My first reaction to this was quite hilarious and not very pertinent to the issue - and then I started thinking about how women of that generation use the excuse of such 'religious thingys' to get out of the house and socialise. Perhaps it's the influence of being brought up in an atmosphere where we never gave much importance to religious rites and functions, holding that it's more important to be true to oneself and be a decent human being - but I simply couldn't see myself having a similar discussion when I reached their age. Which made me wonder whether it is because most of us know so little about these things that used to be such an important part of our culture, our very existence...and how I'd feel if these things just ceased existing. I may not give them much importance, and question them unceasingly, but yet...
Currently :-
Not all the questions were narcissitic - some leaned towards a more social issue. Traditions die. Conventions evolve. Societies metamorphise. It's the way of life - change is the only thing that is constant. Our own society has seen some very drastic changes in the last 5 years or so...and sometimes I find myself thinking like one of the elder generation and wondering where we are headed and questioning the merits of these changes.
I had opportunity to remark on a couple of these changes over the last few days:-
A friend has commented several times on my attire, when it happens to be Indian - I refer here to Salwar-kurtas, not clothes manufactured in India ;-) For him (yes it's obviously a man who'd comment on something of the sort) it is a 'formal attire' - and this he says is because everywhere he sees, women are increasingly seen in Western clothes - be it in college, cafes/restaurants/pubs/lounges, offices or just at home. When they do 'condescend' to wear a more 'traditional' attire it is invairably for a formal situation. When he first commented on this topic, I thought him off the rockers, for I know quite a few women in the 20s who don't live in just jeans/trousers. However since then I have started noticing - and it is true to quite an extent. There have even been times when I'm sitting in the food-court of a popular multiplex and apart from the Auntys (read 40+ women with a couple of children in tow) I am the only woman in a salwar-kurta. Not that I mind - I find the salwar-kurta just as comfortable as my faded, old jeans, or my skirts. Infact I love that slightly added bit of feminine grace the attire lends to my appearance when I don my kurtas...but it's also true that I think the Saree is to be brought out only for formal occasions, even while my mother finds herself at ease in Sarees and wears them most of the time.
Over the weekend I had to attend a Satyanarayan Katha and pooja - to which a dear friend commented that I seem to be suddenly attending too many of these 'religious thingys'. No, not the same friend, a different guy this time ;-) I objected loudly at the time, but it's funny how we ourselves have had two Satayanarayan Kathas since we moved to Pune, not to mention have attended atleast five and had a couple of traditional ceremonies held at home...I can't even remember the last time we had a Satyanarayan Katha in Bombay, or for that matter attended one! Anyways am digressing - the point being, that there I was, sitting in the Katha and most of the women around me - for some inexplicable reason we continue to sit in two groups of the "ladies" and "gents" during all such occasions - were a generation elder to me. They started discussing the various Kathas, Kirtans, Bhajans and Poojas being held in our residential complex during the course of the week. My first reaction to this was quite hilarious and not very pertinent to the issue - and then I started thinking about how women of that generation use the excuse of such 'religious thingys' to get out of the house and socialise. Perhaps it's the influence of being brought up in an atmosphere where we never gave much importance to religious rites and functions, holding that it's more important to be true to oneself and be a decent human being - but I simply couldn't see myself having a similar discussion when I reached their age. Which made me wonder whether it is because most of us know so little about these things that used to be such an important part of our culture, our very existence...and how I'd feel if these things just ceased existing. I may not give them much importance, and question them unceasingly, but yet...
Currently :-
- Reading - Guy de Maupassant
Listening to - One Wild Night - Bon Jovi
Monday, August 01, 2005
Stormy Weather...
While the the weather outside continues to remain wet, dismal and dreary, a storm is raging inside of me - questions unanswered that need to be answered. Yet I have little hope of getting answers any time soon...and that makes me feel frustrated. I'm fed-up. Fed-up of waiting for things to fall into place. I'm scared. Scared my plans will back-fire. I'm clinging. Clinging onto dreams and hopes. And I'm hoping. Hoping I don't fail...
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