Highlights

I know, I know! I have been away for what feels like ages. And the more time passes without writing anything, the harder it gets to write...
But anyways, here's what I have been upto...some highlights of the days gone by:

• Landing in Bucharest, Romania and getting that familiar rush of excitement to think that I am in a whole new country, a new continent. Somewhere where I have never set foot before. Even jet lag can't kill this feeling. I sit back in the car and drink in the sights and sounds on a chilly Sunday afternoon.

• That same evening, I literally run into the warm restaurant fleeing from the chilly winds chasing away the daylight. My hosts tell me I should have brought something warmer. I tell them I am wearing my warmest jacket. It is an Italian restaurant with dim lighting and clinking glasses. I remember feeling nice and fuzzy - almost intoxicated by the ambience, the food, their friendly chatter and the unfamiliar accents and my exhaustion which was rapidly beginning to catch up.
  


• Waking up to a foreign city shrouded in fog - making it feel all the more alien. Thoughts of Count Vlad a.k.a. Dracula float through my head and send a delicious chill down my spine
  


• Another evening, another restaurant. This time high above the city. I sit close to the glass windows and see the daylight fade. I taste foie gras for the first time. And some amazing chocolate cake. And listen to our beautiful host tell us about Dracula...about how he has been demonized and victimized. Hmm...

• I am having dinner. With Romanians, Serbians, Bulgarians. At times like this, I really love my job. It's given me experiences I never dreamed I would have.

• Final day of the presentation is at a palace. Really. Stirbey Palace on the outskirts of the city. The grounds are full of wildflowers and bare trees. There is a lake where White and Black swans are gliding. Across the wooden bridge is a meadow where I can see a pony grazing. Can it get more idyllic? The palace itself is slightly sinister though in keeping with East European folklore.

• Is it strange that the moments that really stay with me are when I was out for dinner? It's a beautiful evening, our presentations have gone off well so I am happy. It's our last evening in Bucharest and we are at a restaurant playing soft rock and serving great Italian cuisine. The ceiling is made of white drapes and the big glass windows look onto a street lined with mansions that house various embassies.

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• I am returning on the day India plays Sri Lanka in the World Cup Cricket final. I love being a part of experiences so it is excruciating to sit patiently in the flight waiting for irregular score updates from the air-hostess. When I try to gently prod her to deliver more regular feedback given the urgency of the situation, she nods sympathetically. "Yes, I know. But the pilot has said he can either fly the plane or check for updates", she says apologetically. That settles that. The pilot is not Indian or Sri Lankan methinks.
  


• As we get ready to make our descent into the Mumbai night, the aircraft hovers over the city and I can see fireworks all over the city. It is one of the most awesome sights I have ever seen. That's how I first know India has won the World Cup. After 28 years. Passengers aboard the aircraft pump their fists in the air and congratulate each other. There are cheers and applause as the captain confirms the win. My first SMS on landing is from Romania - our client wants to congratulate us on becoming world champions!

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• Before I can quite recover from my trip, I have to plan for another. But this time its pleasure not business. Off to Puri on office Annual Retreat. Have been waiting eagerly for it because it means a chance to catch up with friends and unwind - something which has been in short supply for some time. I am gleeful as a child as I pile my luggage into the train and start clicking photographs before you can say "camera"! we laugh hysterically at stupid jokes as we fall asleep lulled by the movement of the train.

• One of the first things we do, is hit the beach. But first it means trudging, slipping, ploughing through hot sand. And then at last, I can let the cool waters wash over my tired feet. the sea never fails to thrill me. Its roar pounding through my ears, the strong breeze making my spirits soar. As I sit later beneath the colourful umbrellas and sip on tender coconut water and look out at the sea, I feel like I can be this way forever.

• The Sun Temple is fabulous. I am mesmerised by the thought of people striving to create this work of art so many years ago. 750 years ago actually, as our guide kept saying. I am captivated to know that the idol in the inner sanctum was kept suspended in air by being placed between two strong magnets. I wonder if this is true as I picture the scene and feel enchanted.

• The guide is funny. He takes the boys on a special tour which is apparently censored stuff. Someone says temples had erotic carvings to encourage people to procreate. Whaaa?
  


• Chandrabhaga beach as the sun is setting. We savour the moment, walking a far distance along the beach and writing our names in the sand.
  


• Party time at night. Haven't danced like this in ages. I am so exhausted that I can barely stand straight but I don't want this night to end. I don't know when I'll get to dance like this with my friends again. I am so tired, I am almost high. High on happiness.

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• Withdrawal symptoms for a day or two as I search desperately for something else to look forward to. Till someone reminds me about the extended weekend coming up. Yay! Laziness is welcomed with open arms. Sleep, eat, read.
  


• Peace and quiet at work after what feels like aeons. Rocky Road shake at Mocha. Sitting with a friend in silence. Listening to 'Iktara'..."sun rahi hu sudh-budh khoke, koii main kahani, puri kahani hai kya kise hai pata..."

Another candle on the cake

A few days back I crossed another milestone in this confusing journey we call life...it was my birthday you see! :)

I have to confess: I totally look forward to my birthday - its like my own personal cue to happiness. I'm not quite sure why this is. I suppose its a residue of childhood that I still carry with me. All I know is that when I'm counting all the holidays from January to December to see when I can catch a break, my birthday is what keeps me going through June. On our birthdays each one of us can feel special. We may be part of a group of students or teachers, Geminians or Librans, North Indians or South Indians...and still feel unique.


This year I was thinking about how the way I spend my birthdays has changed over the years. Now that I'm a grown-up and all, you see. When I was a kid, it was about children's parties. Lots of chocolates, candies, munchies. The "khoi-bag" which when torn would spill out a host of goodies, the birthday bumps, the games which involved all that running around, exhausting but ultimately satisfying. And who can forget the gifts! I was happiest when someone gifted me a book. But I was also mesmerised by a new box of pastel colours or sketch pens. I loved the board games that I got and the ping-pong bats and the yo-yo. What I did not like was when people gifted me money - I thought it was such a waste!



Of course as I grew older, I began to appreciate gifts of cash more than kind since it meant I could get myself whatever i wanted. I really wished people would refrain from gifting me clothes. I was developing a sense of how I wanted to dress and the ideas of well-intentioned but sadly clueless relatives did not help. :(

When I was in college, birthdays meant giving a treat to friends. So we would all bunk classes and go in a huge group to some joint having decent food and modest prices. I fondly remember some such trips during my B-school days where almost half the class would make their way down in a chattering group to a restaurant nearby and gorge on biryani or butter nan. Considering how many birthdays there were in a group of 20-25 people, we often suspected that our combined appetite single-handedly kept the restaurant running!

Even once I started working, I was lucky to have a group of friends who ensured that this day felt special even at the workplace. We would go out for lunch and exchange gifts. On the weekends when everyone was more likely to be free, I would make more elaborate plans to meet and treat various groups of friends from school, college and work.


As we grow older and our lives change, a lot of friends and relatives have moved out of my city. Birthdays become a great way to catch up with almost all of them in a single day! I look on this as one of the great perks of birthdays. With the advent of mobile phones, receiving calls at midnight has also become that much easier. This year also friends and relatives called up at the stroke of 12. It is a different matter that I had fallen asleep, thus causing several parties various degrees of aggravation ("How dare you fall asleep when I stayed up waiting to call you!").


Since I spend so much time out of home anyways, this year I spent a quiet day with family at home and celebrated by cutting a cake (chocolate of course). This cake cutting ceremony is a tradition that my family religiously adheres to and even if I feel silly sometimes, no birthday feels complete withou it. We had an amazing feast at home itself and I got chocolates, perfumes, clothes and... gift vouchers for Oxford bookstore(big hug to my sis)! When I returned to work, I received a card signed by my colleagues and cut a couple of cakes (yes chocolate again) as is the practice. Later I met some friends for a lunch date and had a great time drooling over some awesome Italian fare (food I mean).

As I grow older, I have increasingly had people ask me about my future plans. They sometimes hint and sometimes state that time running out and I should hurry into doing the things I'm "supposed" to do. They try to suggest that my birthday is now more a signal that the clock is ticking than any occasion to celebrate. But age is just a question of mind over matter, as far as I'm concerned...if you don't Mind it doesn't Matter!

I realize that things are changing with every passing year and sometimes I wonder how I became 29 so fast. I sure don't feel 29! But the wistfulness soon passes. I have too much fun childishly looking forward to birthdays to be too bogged down by the numbers. I guess what I'm trying to say is, any excuse for celebration that we get in life should be grabbed with both hands. After all, that's what when you truly celebrate Life! :)



Photos courtesy: Google Images

Time vs. Money

During my college years and especially during my post graduation days, I nurtured a fond dream. It was called “When I start earning my own money”. It involved vivid and vibrant schemes for self-indulgence and self-improvement. I dreamed of a high-powered lifestyle where I played squash in the mornings and went swimming in the evenings. I also learned a foreign language, joined a photography class with my new digital SLR and learned to play the guitar and/or piano. These dreams were founded on a single glorious truth – I would be earning enough money to indulge myself.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I couldn’t pursue all these activities as a student. I just didn’t want my parents to pick up the tab for my essentially whimsical dreams. I wanted the liberty of doing something because it pleased me and giving it up when it didn’t. I also felt it would be a lot more fulfilling to pick up a new skill on my own steam.

But alas! Maybe I was naïve, maybe plain clueless, but I never realized the demands my job would make on my time. On an average I spend around 11 hours at work, 5 days a week. Most times I work on Saturdays too even though “technically” it’s a holiday in my organization. It’s the same story with friends who work in other private sector firms. The mantra for success is ‘perform or perish’. Work or my office now forms an overwhelming part of my life and occupies an uncomfortably large part of my thoughts. On weekdays, when I return home, I am too exhausted to even contemplate a hobby. On the weekends, I de-stress by doing nothing more taxing than chatting with family, watching movies, eating out or shopping.

I still dream of joining up for some non-work related activity but I never seem to have the time to find out the details and in case I do, I find the hours incompatible with my work life. I have to admit, I have also lost a bit of ‘ye olde enthusiasm’. I could probably squeeze in some class on a Sunday but after all the time I put in at work, whatever little I get to myself is sacrosanct – meant only for some good ole R&R (rest and relaxation people, not rock and roll). “Me” time is strictly rationed.

So after five years of being a salaried professional, I am yet to bring down the house by strumming a Spanish guitar or spout melodic French to awed listeners. It is only now that I feel most keenly just how much free time I used to have as a student. How much freedom I had (and to think I used to chafe at parental restrictions!). Such little responsibility. Sigh!

The irony has not escaped me – When you have time, you don’t have money and when you have money you don’t have time.

But I don’t give up easily. And our dreams however small or big, are our spurs. Someday I will be a sporty, French speaking, guitar playing, expert photographer...someday. And did I mention Bhartanatyam dancing?

That Saturday feeling

In keeping with the tone of my previous post, I have decided that Saturdays are the favourite day of the week for me.

They herald the end of the working week and the beginning of that complete holiday, Sunday. My school believed in a mid week holiday so while Thursdays were off, I had school on Saturday. Even in those days, I used to enjoy Saturdays - we were allowed to borrow books from the library on Saturdays, we also seemed to have dance classes or sports on this day plus my parents would come back early from work too! It was about as good as it could get for me back then!

Saturday is my semi-activity day. It's a day when one is relatively free from the shackles of everyday work but also a day when one can get things done. Like someone once said, 'only Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday'. :)
So on Saturdays, I may go to work, but its usually not for the whole day. This means that I can catch up with all the little tasks which have piled up during the week - going to the bank, getting a hair cut, buying that pair of jeans before the sale gets over, meeting friends for a cup of coffee, catching up on some much needed sleep, finishing the last few pages of the novel, watching the latest blockbuster...it makes me feel good. On Sundays most places tend to be closed so activities are somewhat restricted to malls and restaurants. More importantly Sundays make me feel like the end is near and time is running out on my precious weekend. Sunday evenings are by far the worst. You can see a 'Manic Monday' beckon with glee just round the corner.

So let me raise a toast to my favourite day of the week and mean it from the bottom of my heart when I say, 'I'll miss you when you're gone'!

Monday Morning Blues

Monday mornings raise existential questions within me.

I begin to question the basic tenets of life. Why am I here in office today? Is it really necessary to work? Where did my weekend vamoose? How does time pass faster when you are having fun? How come I never seem to get enough sleep over the weekend? You get the drift…

I find myself nodding sagely in empathy as I read the line, “Monday is a lame way to spend 1/7th of one’s life.” So true, so true.