dedicated to diva undecided.

The day I met you, I thought, "God, she's so cool."

And you are. You are hands down the sweetest, coolest girl I've met in Kuwait.

We've been friends a few months at best, but after spending time with you, whether panting by your side during the Friday morning runs, or conversing while we stuff our faces with delicacies in a restaurant or samosas and chai in Souk Safat, I've gotten to know you a lot better and now look up to you like you're my older sister (stop taking this in the wrong spirit; it's not like I said you're a wise old aunt!).

It was with you and only because of you that I made my greatest and most cherished achievement so far in 2013: completing a 5k run. A memory that always reverberates in my head when I'm running and feel like I can't go on is this: you once asked me how I was doing during a run and I said, in between my gasps for air, that I'm good. And you said, 'you're not good, you're excellent.' This pretty much sums up the positivity that you exude that is such an inspiration to me. It keeps me going and reaffirms my faith in myself.

One thing I admire about you is that you prioritize and manage your time like a boss! You're committed to so many different things yet manage to keep everyone involved happy. And no matter how long your day has been or how little sleep you've had, you're always ready with your infectious smile, and it never fails to lighten my mood.

You're one of the few people I know that is so in touch with their humanity. I have never met any girl as empathetic as you in Kuwait. Each of the Q8FS inspires me in different ways—you inspire me to do good and be good, and I love you for it.

Happy Birthday chameli. Here's to tons more conversations, runs, and disastrous musicals. 

(for Diva Undecided)

dedicated to the favourite blogger

For the writer, the runner, the feedback giver, the editor, and the friend—Lord Aymz.

You've done and achieved so much just during the two years I've known you: launched MyBloogle and the Q8 Foot Soldiers, had several articles published, were interviewed by a newspaper and a magazine, ran a freaking 42K in record time! I've met more than a dozen equally amazing people through you, half of whom I'm glad to call my friends.

I admire your commitment to betterment in all that you delve into, and especially admire your fearlessness in expressing your beliefs and your refusal to sit back and accept injustice. 

You inspire me to be a confident and consistent blogger, a determined runner, and a better Muslim. I can honestly say that my life in Kuwait has been enriched since I recognized your email that day at Better Books—so thankful I did!

Happy Birthday A! I wish you every happiness today, and plenty more in the years to come. May you achieve all that you strive for, inshallah. 

The Watch Tower on Vetal Hill

She met them after spending a year abroad, greeting them in excitement. Friends of old, the three had decided to spend the early morning hours with a short hike up one of the hills in the city. Paths connected the hill to others, as well as to an abandoned quarry. There was a pool of murky water lying at the bed of the quarry; the three had once skipped stones there. She had failed miserably.

Ye olde abandoned quarry. 

They trudged up the trail that ran through thick shrubbery, listening for faint calls of the peacocks that lived within, reminiscing about other times spent there.

"There's a tower on this side," one of them said when they came to a fork in the path. "It has an awesome view."
"Is that where we're going?"
"Yup!"

An image of a turret immediately flashed into her mind. Two recent summer trips in Europe and watching Disney films since infancy had conditioned her imagination. She drew a mental picture of a high, (no not too high, she thought, the top would show from above the trees), of a medium-sized (she had no reckoning of height) tower, made of stone, with a pointed tip and a window - no glass of course. The kind of window from which Rapunzel would toss her hair down. There would be a wooden spiral staircase inside.
She wondered how they'd never stumbled upon it on earlier trips there. Then, she knew why.

"Here we are!"
The mental picture shattered.
"This?" she said, almost hysterically. "You call this a tower?"
What stood before her held no resemblance to European architecture. It was a rickety structure (high, not medium-sized), the frame was made of rusted steel bracing crisscrossing in the style of X's, over and over. Planks of wood ran up all around it at angles. It was leaning slightly on one side, as though the wind was commanding it to bend.
It looked like a dilapidated water tower. Without a tank of water at the top.

She said so in great disdain.

The other two looked at each other.

"Are you coming up?"
"Of course not! I have to attend a wedding in two days and I'd like to be there in one piece!"
"Come on! There's nothing to it, even my sister went up this. We've been up lots of times. And the view is just amazing."

She did want to see the view. She'd missed the hills.

"How am I even supposed to get up this thing?" The first step was at a height of about five feet, there were no stepping stones. Heaving herself onto it was out of the question, the plank looked like it would disengage with excessive force.

One of them hoisted himself up to one end of the 'tower', strode across the bracing at the bottom and onto the steps, comfortably ascending them. He waited at the 'first floor' stair deck, which comprised of a single plank of wood nailed across the ramshackle frame on either side.

She followed suit, gingerly climbing onto the frame, walking across while hugging the structure for dear life (she was three feet off the damp ground), and then advancing onto the first plank of the steps. She took another step up, and felt the entire structure lean to one side, as though it was being weighed down. She screamed and retraced her steps back to the safety of the earth.

"Dude! Come on! We thought you were more adventurous than this!"
"I'm telling you, the view is to die for! And the wind is just amazing!"
"I have to go back to work in a week, there isn't enough time for me to recuperate if I fall from this thing!"

A group of young trekkers stood some distance away, watching. She waved a fist at them.

The two beguiled her into trying again with fabricated anecdotes of the structure's safety and promises of the awesome view and wind. The rigmarole was repeated in its entirety.

"I can't do this! Just go up, I'll wait down here until you return."
"I'm telling you man, nothing's going to happen! My sister is the biggest darpok* and she went right up to the top!"
"Fine," she snapped, making her way to the steps again. "But if I die, my mom's going to kill me."

When she got to the first step, she ordered one of them to go on and the other to wait until she'd reached the first 'platform'. She went up slowly, there were spaces between steps where a plank had fallen through. She held the round railing tight and wished there was another one on both sides, running between the sole rail and the flight of stairs, so as to reduce the wide gap that a person could easily slip through.

She cursed the added kilos that had leeched onto her in Kuwait, and the wretched gym membership she had spent so much on. She deigned to work out once a week or two but apparently one had to be more regular for there to be an adequate effect.

Twice, she looked down. Bad idea. She had a sudden visual of slipping through the wooden boards and dashing against the steel. She forced her head up, muttering a prayer and concentrating hard on getting up to the platform atop the structure and back down with all limbs intact. There was more safety in bungee jumping, she thought crossly.

Finally, they were at the top. A lone rail on each side was all that separated them from certain death. The platform was missing a plank and she refused to go any further, declaring she could see perfectly well from where she stood and that the sights wouldn't improve by taking another three steps.

That isn't her foot. In case you thought so.

The trees of the surrounding hillside were still a lush green, courtesy of the departing monsoon. She was glad she hadn't risked her life for a browning view. The clouds rode low, shrouding the sun, and the morning mist threw a haze over the city that looked so distant from where they stood. There was a slight wind, although it wasn't as 'amazing' as promised. The view had been worth it after all.

Civilization obscured by the morning mist.

The derelict 'tower'.

After a few pictures, they descended, making their way to the bottom. There were no incidents except one, when the structure shook slightly. The climb left no physical evidence on her, but for jittery knees and a strong reek of rust on her palms.

She went to the wedding and enjoyed it. A week later she was back at work in Kuwait, a longing for the hills buried deep in the recesses of her heart.

______________________________________________________________

Notes:
*darpok [dar-poke] - fraidy-cat

Based on actual events that occurred at the watch tower on Vetal Tekdi (hill) in Pune city. 
Dedicated to the two maniacs that took me up that tottering pile of planks.
Narrative and dialogue may have been embellished (just a little) to increase reading pleasure.

flying. shrieking. swearing. pleading.

The sister, the bff, the bff's sister and I walked into Sha'ab Leisure Park with one sole purpose. To go on the skycoaster. The skycoaster is a structure consisting of a triangular frame and a tower, connected with cables. Strapped into the cable, it pulls you up to a height of 60 m (15 stories). On reaching the top, you pull a cord. And then, you oscillate like a pendulum at 93 km/hr.

It's on my old bucket list; I've been wanting to do this for years. If you've lived in Kuwait since you were a kid, I can probably surmise your reaction accurately. 'You haven't been on that yet?' Didn't get a chance.

We planned to leave the best for last, as the sister put it. She's been on it twice before, sang 'I believe I can fly!' her second time. The rest of us were virgins.

It was a longggg queue. We waited.. and waited.. a really long while. The bff and her sister were too freaked out to go together, ruining my own sister's plan of going with me. So I paired with the bff.

The sister was her usual hyperactive self, totally pumped to go.

The other two were scared out of their skins, having a fear of heights. 

I was hungry.

We watched the people before us take their turns either two by two or three by three. 

Going up... before us

We gasped 'oh my God!' at one particular trio that didn't hold on to each other as they were tossed down, looking as though they were going to separate and fly out in three different directions. We cracked up at hypothetical scenarios of the bff's sister sneezing (allergies) at the top and then flying face first into the remnants of her sneeze in the atmosphere :D The bff's sister almost chickened out. My sister reminded her she was getting married next month; that was scarier. The bff, still freaked out, gave her sibling her ATM pincode and told her to tell her family she loved them. I tried to console her with, 'dude! Zindagi na milegi dobara! (You Live Only Once - a recent Hindi film). Her sister was nothing less, she called her fiance to tell him she loved him. He told her to get a grip.

And then.. FINALLY.

the tower?

The bff and I each stepped into our harness, posed for a quick pic and walked to the platform where we would be strapped in, all set to be lifted up. I instructed my dear friend to pose like Spiderman does when he thrusts out his web and like Superman when he flies fist forward when we were at the apex. My heart started pounding as the realization hit me. We were going to be suspended from 60 m. And I wanted to go sky diving! They were playing the worst music ever, slow love songs, totally inappropriate. The song that played for us was Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You. Was that supposed to be a sign?

I was going to pose like this.

and like this. Went clean out of my head.

Three Arab guys that went before us stood waiting for the platform to be lowered as we were getting buckled up. Since I was going to pull the cord, I had to go on the right. 

The guys started making conversation, 'your first time?' 

Bff said nervously, 'YES!' 

'Ah, it's very scary.' said the tall one.

'Hold tight,' said the guy in the middle.

The attendant told us to let our legs up. Confused, we muttered 'what'd he say?' and then screamed when our feet suddenly went off the ground. We were hanging face down from our tummies like sheep for slaughter. We continued screaming though we were two feet off the ground. I wondered whether the guys were laughing at us because I couldn't see their faces and I couldn't hear anything; the air was rent with our screaming. And then.. we were being pulled up diagonally towards the triangular wire frame.

The bff went into hysterics.

She clutched at my arm really hard, squeezing it, both of us yelling blue murder. I quietened after a bit gazing at the view straight ahead. It was kinda relaxing. But the bff? She wouldn't shut up!

What she shrieked: 'OH MY GOD! Bismillah hir rehman nir raheem (in the Name of God, The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful)! Oh God, please I'm sorry! Dude, I can't do this man! Dude, please I want to go back down! OMG!' And then she closed her eyes.

At a couple of points I experienced weightlessness, which was a little frightening. I'm not really afraid of heights but when we were getting higher, I looked down below me to see hard concrete and people eating right below (ALL staring at us, their attention caught with the high-pitched wails). Even my heart failed a little and I hurriedly looked straight ahead again, warning my unfortunate friend not to let her eyes trail downward. But she did. I desperately wanted to laugh out loud at her reactions but just giggled silently.

When we finally stopped ascending, we heard a voice on the megaphone - '3.. 2.. 1.. FLY!'

This was my cue to pull the cord.

The bff - 'Dude don't pull it! Please don't do it!'

Me - 'Sorry dude.'

I pulled.

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

What I shrieked - 'THIS IS AWESOME!! THIS IS SO FRIGGIN' AWESOME!!'

It was so relaxing, the spitting image of rock a bye baby. We sent flying kisses to our sisters. We waved at an old lady calling out to us. We swung around and around.

Once we lost momentum and came closer to earth, one of the attendants cried, 'remove *something*!'
Assuming I had to pull something else, I replied indignantly, 'I'm not removing anything!'

He meant our feet from the harness so we could land feet first instead of face first..

The sisters went next. They had a fantastic experience too. The dialogue was more colourful.

We all wanted to have another go.

So much for fear of heights.

It's not sky diving.

It's not exactly bungee jumping either.

But it's a start!

home is where the luggage is.

I thought Pune was home.
It ceased to be.
Not just because I moved back to Kuwait.
It seemed distant this time. It's exhausting living in a city where the people lack any consideration for other human beings and where you have to be on your guard consistently 'coz you will encounter some moron or the other who WILL try to fleece you. It wearies one.

I love Bombay. I love my family and cousins. But Bombay is more foreign to me than ever, with its shallow and materialistic lifestyle. I don't care for the damn designer clothes and shoes or the 'branded' crap. I don't drink, I abhor loud noises and mainstream music so a pub is the last place you'll see me in. I've stopped watching Hindi movies. I don't follow Bollywood or Hollywood gossip and muse on who slept with who. I feel a deep disgust for Indian television and despair at how self-absorbed Bombaiytes are and at their money is God attitude. I write, I read and my renewed passion in these has made me an alien there.
The freedom there, is what I miss.

Even though I lived most of my life here in Kuwait, it was never home. I could never call it that except when saying stuff like, 'I wanna go home and crash.' NRIs love the comfort, low gas prices and tax free income of the Gulf and quite a few of them could never adapt to India again. But a place that doesn't accept you is not a place you could call your own.

So.. where the hell is home?

I wonder now, am I a third culture kid (TCK)?
Wiki defines a TCK as 'someone who, as a child, has spent a significant period of time in one or more culture(s) other than his or her own, thus integrating elements of those cultures and their own birth culture, into a third culture.'

Oh yeah. Fosho. Definitely closer to that than anything else.
At 5 months, I flew way before I took my first step.

Third culture kids aren't supposed to fit in anywhere. But they are very open to different cultures. Sure, I got that. I love meeting people from diverse backgrounds and expanding my awareness about their cultures and traditions.

TCKs are also multilingual. Er. No.
Having lived in Kuwait I'm supposed to speak Arabic. I'm ashamed to say I don't. I can fathom just a bit.
Again, having lived in Pune I'm supposed to atleast understand basic Marathi. I don't.
The only couple of words I bothered to learn is 'shut up', 'stop' and 'idiot' (you may roll your eyes, but they were pretty handy). I know a hell lot more Japanese watching anime than I know Marathi. I picked up and spoke more Czech in my two week visit to the CR than I ever did Arabic in all these years.
French? I'm glad I still remember quite a bit of French from school.
Hindi you ask? My dad is from Hyderabad and the mother from Bombay originally from a region called Kutch in Gujarat so the dialect I speak is a bit.. strange. Hyderabadis speak Urdu (based on Hindi structure, with words from Arabic and Farsi) in a manner no one else does, honing a drawl while they speak, stretching out the words. I disowned the accent and developed my own, based on the mother's and her family's. My grammar foundation though is not strong. Back in college, even if I attempted a conversation with my friends in their Hindi, my Urdu-Hindi whatever, some pronunciations, due to my linguistic background were different. My friends found it a scream.
They're darn tootin' lucky I never laughed at their English.

So much for multilingual. I only seem to have a knowledge of languages that have so far been of no real use to me. But for English.

People generally have a place they chill out at. Like the mall, a cafe maybe a pub. The only place I can admit going to regularly is the airport. Any airport. I don't seem to have gone anywhere else more often than once. Except the bookstore, but then I interned there.

So maybe I am a TCK, atleast partly.
Nursing the incurable bite the travel bug left me with, I desperately want to travel more. It's just been about two weeks since I got back and I'm already planning a trip in my head which, most probably, will just stay in my head. Maybe it's 'coz I can't seem to connect to any place anymore and I want to find it. It would be nice to feel a sense of belonging to something more than your AT suitcases. The sister doesn't even bother unpacking anymore. She's the first one to finish packing every damn time; all she has to do is zip up her bags.

So after some retrospection, I have come to a conclusion.

I am a nomad.

I have no home. But I prefer to think I just haven't found it just yet.

Have you?

dedicated to the twa

HAPPY BIRTHDAY B^2!!

For the friend, the awesome ever-encouraging friend, current twin, sole companion throughout the 4th sem,  proof reader, critic, faithful follower - being the one person in the world (as far as I know) who has read my blog completely and gives me feedback after thoroughly enjoying each post (=P), self-proclaimed maverick..

Here's to the discovering, exploring, bargaining with nariyal pani walas and every other wala, intense book analyzing, movie criticizing, vocab enhancing, mouth watering discussions of chicken and crab and the everlasting yearning for the same, testing the elasticity of our imagination, trudging through the city streets, exaggerations, heated ego disputes, excursions over the hills breathing in fresh air gazing at the view in awe, side splitting conversations whiling away Vodafone minutes..

Here's to a lot lot more of that.

And of course a heartfelt wish for you to inevitably succumb to the shackles of matrimony, hopefully by year end =D

Hope the new year brings in everything you want, deserve and more.

Cheers mate!

a look back - ghost of the year past

2010's been a blur. Honestly. For some months, I had to refer to previous posts. It's been a great year for shoes though! And books too, as I rediscovered my love for reading.

Let's recapitulate.. This is more for my benefit than to entertain you.

All through Jan-May: Last semester of MBA. In terms of studies, it was a fruitful sem, it made me glad I chose Marketing and I learnt a lot about it. Some relationships thrived, some suffered, but everything ended on a good note. The sole incident in April that held any excitement was that I fell down the stairs. It was thrilling. The pain was not and my phone lost a crucial key. I haven't replaced the key or the phone. Now it has a story behind it :D

June is a total blank.

July: A bloody AWESOME trip to Bombay.

August: Extractions and Gossip Girl. Period.

Come September and it was all about audieu, one mind blowing day out at a lake with my entire family and some of the best times I've had with my friends. Which inspired me to write this, so far the best post on this blog.

October: Interviews and a couple of amazing morning outs. And books.

November was a test of our hospitality as home was more like a guesthouse. My bff was down, then my cousin, then my mom's bff and after they left my grandmom (who I almost poisoned UNINTENTIONALLY, but let's leave that story for another time) and my cousins from Hyderabad for a couple of days in between. And another fab fab fabulousssso two trips to Bombay. Best month of the year - strengthening the bonds with family, friends and Damon Salvatore (YUMMY!) from The Vampire Diaries. I admit the relationship with the last is a bit one sided.

And December? I sliced the palm of my right hand. How, you ask? Indeed you should.

Well, I was walking. Maybe it was with a little skip. It was dark. The road was bad. And the rest of me decided to join my feet on the ground. My cousins helped me up and I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my right hand. I turned it and was surprised to see it trying to drown itself in my blood. I turned the palm down again lest they should see it and freak out. Which they did. What followed was people gathering and gazing at my hand in dazed horror, a rickshaw driver trying to stop the blood with 'spirit' (so he said which I suspect was his daru ki bottle), a two hour wait for a surgeon at Jehangir Hospital after the nurses patched me up and a lie down in the minor operation theatre getting stitches by the craziest doctor I'd ever met who made me promise my next holiday would be in Paris.

That's a promise I don't mind keeping.

And then there was my birthday. 23. Some great gifts. 'Nuff said.

Now I'm back in Kuwait. I've caught up with all the series worth watching (Outsourced is a good one), lost the mood for movies and have a whole bunch of books to read. The stitches and bandages are off but my skin still feels tight. I still love my own company and prefer to be left in solitude most of the time. My age is still mistaken to be around 15-18 years and I found in me a passion (of sorts) for photography after I was blessed with a hot purple compact camera (Canon SX210 IS - a cam so cool, so mod, it has sex in it! xD) which takes gorgeous pictures without giving me the need to tweak on photo editing software.

I have time to read again. My muse reaches out to me more often than it ever did before. And as long as I have that I don't need much more.

Except that holiday in Paris. ;)

when the bffs hit town

She's gone.

The last twelve sleep deprived days were full of fun, frolic, family, friends, green pastures, blue hills, really good home-cooked food, Innovas and Taveras, gorgeous weather, splendeferous views, irresistible shopping deals, mosquito repellent creams, bites and spurts of creativity inspired by the Vampire Diaries, hours long uncomfortable seating wedging between three people at the back of a car or a rickshaw and more chocolate than I care to see again in my life.

My mom's bff, the lovely Mauritian forever bestowing upon me the most fantastic of gifts, flew down a couple of days later, hence the subject.

There was a day trip to Panchgani and Mahableshwar which included a ride on a cart drawn by a horse called Sharukh over Tableland. The rickety cart took us over every rock embedded in the soil almost throwing us all off and the air was consistently full of yells of 'Bhaisaab, Sharukh ko control main rakho!' or 'Behave, Sharukh!' It was hilarious. Oh and the guide was very informative; he showed us every single location of every scene of every movie right from the 60s to the recently released Dabangg ever shot in the picturesque hill station.

There was a quick visit to a few of the points - Parsi Point (why it's is a point baffles me), Kate's point, Arthur's Seat and Harrison's Folly. The name of the last one always raised curiosity on my part. Who on earth was Harrison and what was his folly? Why was it such a huge deal that a whole 'point' was named in memory of it? Questions to guides have remained fruitless, unless Harrison was a Bollywood actor who got into a scuffle with a fellow star while shooting and pushed him off the cliff, no local guide in Panchgani would be interested in his fate. No one can enlighten me on the nature of Harrison's foolishness let alone who he was. That's where Google returned that apparently 'Harrison's Folly is named after a Mr. Harrison who built a house there that caved in under the winds.' Well if that's the truth (doesn't seem likely, I doubt the winds were ever that strong in Panchgani), it's obvious the folly is related to trusting the scum of a builder who must have cheated our unsuspecting Mr. Harrison on the quality of materials used in construction of his home. Poor schmuck.

A view of the surrounding hills from Arthur's Seat, engulfed in an azure haze.

On our way to some such point, we spotted the only wild animal on our short trip, a gaur (seladang sounds so much cooler) that we, and a few other cars that came to a halt at the sight of it, tried to take pictures of unobtrusively.

A horse with a name such as Don or Veer (surprisingly there was no Rajnikanth), gets on his way after a drink.

A day later was the trip to Panshet (40 km or so from Pune). The sun burned down but the place was exquisite. We went for a boat ride on the lake, 'woohoooing' on sharp curves, spraying each other with the miniature waves that rose as we disturbed the stillness of the water.

On the way to Panshet.

In between, we somehow fitted in a concert of French artists by name of The Arties, performing Beethoven, Weber and Schumann (Weber's Grand Duo being especially beautiful and memorable). dinner at Hard Rock and another the next night at 11 East Street Cafe and a hell lot of shoe shopping where, JOY! I found a pair of gladiators in MY size! *dances a jig across the room*

The bff's last day was spent quickly touring South Bombay, with the mother briefing us on the buildings and locations we drove past, pointing out the heritage buildings and asking us take note of the once glorious architecture. The weather was FAN-FRIGGIN-TASTIC. Never has the sun taken refuge behind the clouds for so long and the wind blown so freely in this city..

Worli Seaface, where the sea usually raging and uncontrollable at high tide, lies still, biding its time.

And after stuffing our faces with doughnuts from M.O.D. with the family that night, she left. At times, not much was said, but there was no need for it, in light of a strengthening bond, coupled with a strange, unspoken tenderness.

road guide.

(Recovered from drafts)

The 24 year old half Iranian was about to leave the shelter of the building, but caught sight of a raindrop and shrieked.

"It's raining!"

"No, it's just drizzling," I expostulated.

The skies decide to set free from their midst another drop of rain, right in front of the 24 year old half Iranian's noggin.

"Then it's drizzling heavily!'

The nakhras* I have to reason with. o_O

You need good judgement to meander down lanes in India. Especially in the rains.

If you've ever lived in Pune (or anywhere in India for that matter) and have ventured out on foot, you'll agree that the concept of a footpath or a sidewalk is a little hazy here. If it does exist, which is increasingly rare, it will be encroached upon by hawkers and the homeless, trees, bus stops, signposts to either inform citizens where they are or which politician's birthday it is or who they should vote for, or there's litter (more like two-week old garbage of half the neighbourhood) strewn over the unbecoming red and yellow tiles.

So where does judgement come into this? Let me elucidate.

It's 'drizzling heavily' (no really, it is). The sidewalk lies in front of you, sometimes impossible to walk on due to the thick overgrowth of impenetrable branches of trees or bougainvillea crying for a trim either on the sidewalk or on the other side of a wall running alongside it. To bypass it the road must be walked, not an easy task as the sides are full of puddles. Here's where the judgement comes in. You're considering leaping over a puddle but decide against it if your legs, like mine, aren't long enough and your pants, like mine (in this particular instance), are a little too nice to be muddied more than they already are. So you sidetrack it, the corner of your eye looking out for road hogs coming up from behind you. You dodge past cars and motorcycles, step over the front wheel of a rogue rickshaw, squeeze your way through bumper to bumper traffic. And if you must cross the road, Lord grant you patience and the ability to make a quick sprint before the multitude of cars that race toward you. But if your courage fails you at the last moment and you cower at the sight of the monstrous oncoming traffic with the occasional rally driving motorbike or car zipping through (they don't really care if you want to cross; they'll intentionally try to run you over if they can), then oh woe is you! For you are doomed to stand there till the end of time.

A couple of hours atleast.

Revelation for the day: If you indulge in chicken prepared the Indian way (read garam masala**) and head out for an intense yoga class ten minutes later, you will get heartburn. And die.

*dramatics

**A seasoning made by blending dry-roasted, ground spices, such as black pepper, cumin, cloves, and cardamom, used in the cooking of northern(?) India - answers.com (couldn't have put it better myself)

musings.

In the city I call home*:

- Nariyal pani is the best drink around for a parched throat.

- Every rickshaw wala is out to get maximum wallet share.

- It's more trying to get into mba than to get through it.

- It's possible to love a wi fi connection more than your cellphone.

- There can be no adequate substitute for family.

- A rick will still take an extra 10 bucks to drop you to your destination even if it is on his way to home, simply coz he won't get any fare thereon to his. Truly infallible logic that I've grown tired of arguing with.

- You don't need company when you're in a store full of books with nothing but time on your hands.

- The rick will be stumped to argue if you show your fare calculation on your cell's calculator.

- My best Ramadan ever was the one during the Career Forum days, opening fasts in Brio, Crossword, with a chocolate croissant and a Calvin and Hobbes book to go with it.

- My olfactory receptors craved and smelled more often than not the aroma emanated by the rain hitting dry earth.

- You can have a hell lotta fun without spending a dime. Or a rupee.

- The retail scene out here is a joke but I'm not laughing.

- There are people out there who would go wayy out of their way for you.

- Just 'coz some restaurants are highly recommended, doesn't mean they're going to go down well with you.

- And if 'coz they're not, doesn't mean they won't.

- Turns out not all of the male species is immature.

- You canNOT hold the same expectations you've been used to in the Gulf (if you've lived in the Gulf). You're just going to have an atrocious time if you do.

- I found friends to enjoy the little things in life with and had a blast each time.

- You don't need fans atleast 6 months a year.

- Even if all good things do come to an end, it's not necessarily a bad thing.

- I'm still incapable of approaching people on my own just for the sake of making conversation. But this is changing.

- I'm also incapable of ever being on time for anything, be it a lecture or a movie.

- The view from my window has a serene effect after a spot of rain, when the foliage thrives.

- If you don't build tolerance of blatant grammatical errors on signboards, hoardings, fliers, shop windows etc, it's highly probable you'll lose your mind.

- Cornflakes is the only way to start the day. And sometimes, end it.

- Bugs cannot be avoided. Mosquitoes can, with Odomos. And if you do get bitten, a bit of hand sanitizer helps.

- A girl's handbag MUST carry the following: hand sanitizer, wet wipes (lots of them, 'coz as soon as you refresh yourself with one everyone else wants to too), chewing gum, hair clips, change for the rick (if you travel by rick) right down to one rupee coins, safety pins..

- Moms are always right. Pity we insist on realizing the hard way.

- Indifference, if nurtured consistently, helps in overcoming every emotional tumble without you coming out too badly.

- It's often that people comment on your weight loss as a conversation starter.

- Japanese animated films kick Disney's ass.

- I'm not as heartless as I thought I was or tried to be.

- Every bakery and cafe is clueless as to the true succulent taste of cheesecake.

- McDonalds' has the best equipped loos. Now Gold Adlabs (I refuse to call it 'Big Cinemas') does too.

- The cultural environment is one that I've never been exposed to before, making it an invaluable learning experience.

- Lived here four years now and I still sight a vegetable I've never seen before.

- There are only a handful of friends you never want to lose touch with and many more with which you can't wait to lose touch. In this case, Facebook is more often a bane than not.

- Too many people can't tell the difference between 'lose' and 'loose'.

- Time is of the essence so don't waste it preaching the difference between right and wrong to people who don't care to learn and are old enough to know better anyway.

- I've been told my train of thought somewhat resembles that of a guy's. Interesting statement.

- I have resigned myself to the fact that never will I find a pretty yet well fitting top in any Indian department store.

- Shopping from export surplus shops has a unique thrill. Especially when you pick up one of your favourite brands at less than quarter of the price.

- Some of the absolute best times I've had here are when friends or family have come down to stay.

- Every other season pales in comparison to the monsoon.

- My therapy to clear a boggled mind? An episode of Naruto Shippuuden. Provided it's not a filler. Even a Tom and Jerry (Fred Quimby ones).

- Fruit tastes better here for some odd, inexplicable reason.

- I never got to enjoy huddling in sweaters because of the inexplicably hot afternoons in the so-called winter months.

- Everytime I get home, I wash off atleast three layers of grime from my face.

- I never loved walking anywhere as much as here and it's an activity I never get tired of.

- No chocolate tastes better than Dairy Milk just rightly melted.

- No pizza tastes better than the Hawaiian Volcano at Papa John's.. now discontinued.

- No mocktail tastes better than the Sweet Sunrise at Hard Rock Cafe.. now discontinued.

- My hunger for classical music was fed by attending the concerts held by the Poona Music Society.

- The recent most fabulous memories I have of here are of Sundays, living the moment.

*Inspired by a particular bff's facebook notes :)

for Them.

With them,

I was myself,

I never found the need to withhold

I experienced and rediscovered old loves of things,

be it fine dining or stargazing, biryani or pani puri, world cinema or books,

even new,

like the deliciousness of ripe gooseberries,

and raw tamarind,

chasing butterflies,

stretching the limits of the imagination,

driving,

posing,

roaming streets,

ever ready for the unknown,

running on impulse,

free, no worries,

'hakuna matata' as the phrase goes.

There was a newfound confidence within me,

my ribcage was no longer under threat of succumbing to my heart's

incessant hammering when I faced a horde of people;

they encouraged me to write,

to participate,

partake,

share,

cry,

and more.

From them,

I learnt more about people,

even myself,

about the male and female psyche,

how each thinks,

and doesn't think,

how to save yourself from yourself,

the art of how much to say when,

the depth of emotions,

different cultures,

maintaining relations with people,

networking,

forgiveness,

letting go.

To them -

I pray that you accomplish everything you wish to achieve and more,

that you have fulfilling careers, rewarding lives

and remain the way you have been with me,

the sui generis that you are,

not allowing life's trials to embitter you,

but refine you.

And as the time to say dasvidaniya draws nearer,

regardless of whether we remain in touch till the end of our days,

do remember,

that I will always carry you all wherever I go.

unmasked

Just when you think you can no longer recall all those memories worth remembering or what it was that actually made them worth it, and you think maybe that mightn't be such a travesty, there comes a day that triggers it all. That reservoir once jogged unleashes a powerful surge of memories making you wonder how the hell could you ever have let yourself forget those awesome times and how complete they made you feel in the first place.

This was the day that triggered it.

Whether it was avoiding dung(buffalo or human who really knows) or trying to push each other into it(and successfully without knowing it), discovering and following a kind of bird that resembled a crow but with more elan, taunting each other, vowing solemnly never to fall in front of particular people and stumbling (twice) in front of those people, laughing at asinine remarks, taking in the breathtaking view from the point we were at, feeling the wind in my face making me feel more alive, mocking the 'leader', the endless arguments (the only one that stands out being the one over UNO rules), finding me a rick (always an irksome experience especially for them) or that conversation making an attempt at the philosophical.. exuberance as B^2 put it, exuded every step of the way.

It made me remember. And realize what I've been missing out on. And that I still care. I really do.

dedicated to the first fan.

I started this blog with the intention that I'm doing this to find an outlet for my creativity, to develop my own style so no matter if there are no takers for it. Then, a few minutes back, I saw my first follower. The excitement was too great. Names I shalt not take to protect the privacy of my dear friend. Of course it doesn't help that the follower has had the good sense(not!) to use her own name to sign in. But it also feels good that the unimaginative twat liked what she read :)

How dearly I do love thee, o unimaginative twat! You made my day!