Big gal says 'THANKS'

Mr. Blog was on a small vacation and now that he is back, he has loads to unload. Before he starts with ‘HIS’ unrelated ramblings about his vacation, let ‘ME’ do my share.

This post stands to thank all the people who made my bday very special. It will take me ages to thank everyone personally (which I intend to do this week after a decent sleep), but a small note of appreciation for all the thoughtfulness. It really touched my heart to know I have such wonderful people who remember me inspite of me being the dumb-headed nut.

1. My office team took me to the Islands for a luncheon party. Now, this is a cool little place with cooler ambience and coolest food. I simply love the french fries and veggie burger here. The name of the burger is quite strange and takes my tongue to do all the possible bhangra but I really relish the spicy fillers inside.

Knowing my love for putting on extra unwanted calories, they got me a hot chocolate brownie with ice-cream. Now, if you have heard about cake-cutting process, I demonstrated the ice-cream cutting skills, complete with ‘blow the candle’, ‘sing the song’, ‘clap your hands’, ‘ask my age’.

-THANKS a lot for that mouth-watering luncheon !

2.I have my yahoo, gmail and office inbox flooded with e-mails and e-cards wishing me for a long life(people can be so generous, knowing me) and longer bills(people can be so uncaring, knowing me), most of them regretting for not being able to give me bday bums(how can I have a long life if you target my arse?), and making me spend some money on treats.

-Hey guyz, THANKS from the bottom of my heart !

3. Long distance calls took me off guard with pleasant suprises, Dev-wished me to Indian & US time, Sudha madam(my teacher), Karanth(a senior from school), Dhaval from London(hes always the first one to wish me from past 5 years), Pavan(my TL from Blore office), Abhijith(a friend from Bijapur), Laxmi, Nandu, Darsi from Pheonix, Sudesh from LongBeach, couple of my mom’s friends, loads of cousins from India-UK-USA(I would have murdered them if they dint)all came in, making me feel like a princess, no tiara please.

-THANKS so much guyz, love ya !

5. My dad & mom called me 4 times to wish me across the time zones to make sure they wished me when the clock struck 12 across any time zone I was, including Indian. Jeez, now you know why the hell I am a spoilt brat. My bro gave me a decent talk on growing up too, *ahem*

-send me the blessings and cash soon, make it in dollars ok?

4. Mr. Blog is yet to reply to all those generous people who wished me through HIS world. He said he would mail them personally later, you know him and hes damn adamant at times.*sigh*

- a special THANX to my dear blog friends !

5. Mr. Orkut is yet to say HIS thanks to all the darling friends who left scratches there(I am still wondering why the heck they call it a scratch sheet?). I guess, he will take ages to reply back to all of them.

-Heartfelt THANX to all my orkut junta !

6. Looks like I have a years supply to Starbucks coffee, courtesy: gift cards from my colleagues, who know my die-hard-addiction to coffee.

-THANKS Diana & Maria !

7. Mom said I have received a couple of greeting cards from a few friends to my mlore home. I dont know the names yet, whoever you are-

- I hope you sent it with cartoons, THANXY !

8. Rashmi gifted me a jeans Capri and I wore it for the best part of my trip across the zones. Now, we both have similar capris, ek dum same-to-same.

- THANKS sweetie !

9. Now, these 3 people need bashings more than my thanking. Esh, Nagu and Ovi called me all the way from Blore, with Esh playing “happy Bday” tunes to show-off his newly learnt guitar skills. I was nearly in tears as he played the tunes and made me miss everyone all the more. Uh, whose idea was it anyway?

-THANKS my sweethearts, love you guys.

10. My new day started with gambling in Las Vegas (I hope my parents don’t read this), but see, I am growing ‘big’ now. 4 days vacation across the time zones was the best treat I could ever get being far away from home (the whole travelogue will follow soon).

-Thanks to Rash, Abhi, Aseem & Chando for the rocking company !

I also thank all the dear people who have made my life more colourful thorughout the year with their prescence. My heartfelt and humble Thank You !

Added later: Ovi, Esh, Nagu, I was really touched with the guitar playing. It was the first time when soemone did something so special for me. I was so happy, I really had tears to know that you guys love me so much. I know you guyz miss me, but never did I dream that Esh would learn that piece to specially play it for me, sing for me. It was very special for me. I was really so touched and senti, you will never know how much it meant to me. Love you guyz! *mwah*

I am a big gal now !!!

If you think that I am the most thick-headed, dim-witted, stupid beyond words, jobless, idiotic, and all those sinful words you can find as the synonyms in the Webster’s thesaurus for these words, don’t feel guilty, I agree ; I am.

Even if you think I am the dharti pee bhooj kind of insaan, I will still agree and say “haan baba, I am" happily, very happily. Strange ? Am I out of my mind?
How could I change from the crime master gogo to the ever forgiving, ‘mere achhi bahu’ likes of Ekta Kapoor serials over night?

Uh ? ? ?

My parents should be getting a Paramveer Chakra for surviving me sanely for these 23years. My darling friends, no doubt deserve a Param Vibhushan for their love and support irrespective of my wacky antics. And my bro, as he says, should be a nominee for the Nobel Peace Award for his high degree of tolerance and patience towards me.

Double Uh ???

Today, 27th may, at the stroke of 12, I add one more year towards my blissful existence, 24 years of simply majja maad-ing !!!

Happy Birthday to me!!!

*clap*clap*clap*


PS: my heartfelt thanks, hugs and kisses to all my loving friends for flooding my inbox with wishes (I’ll collect my gifts upon return). I am really touched that you guyz still remember my bday.

@I am leaving to Colorado today evening for a long weekend, camping and hiking. So Mr. Blog & Mr.Peanut butter brain is will be on vacation, Mr.Tanhayi has deceided to pack his bags and accompany me.

On a very senti note: last year, ma-pa-baba-me had gone to Guruvayur for a small vacation to celebrate my Bday, before I began my journey of ‘stand on my own little feet’ phase of life. My mom had jokingly remarked that coming year, I might be far away from home and they would have to wish me over the time differences. I miss my Ma, she cooked all my fav dishes, I miss my pa who never missed giving me a whooping bday gift. My bro who remarked lovingly on how I never grew up, yet got me a very sweet stuff toy.

My friends who called up at midnight and stormed my poor cell with tons of sms and some who turned up with real surprising gifts. And I miss grandma blessing me and telling me how sweet I was as a kid (don’t blame her). All my cousins who sent me lots of bday cards with cartoons over them. My numerous mom’s friends, some relatives, aunts of my apartments giving me surprising calls, gifts and chocolates. 2 of my dearest teachers who never miss my bday, also miss calling up a few *ahem* and giving them Gyan on not calling me,,, I miss being home.

Jeez..... am I really 24 ???

Kahani mere ghar ki

Many years ago, there was a frog and there was a princess. The princess was prettier than our Aishwarya, and the frog was um, replica of the slime in Harry Potter.
One day, our pretty princess kisses our very ugly frog. Smoke, thunder, lightening later, our very ugly frog turns into a handsome prince.
The one with the eyes of John Abraham, lips of Fardeen, height of Bachan, torso of Hrithik, firm jaws of Rampal, *ahem* my heart misses a beat here.

Remember the not-so-sexy Lolo Kapoor eating bhelpuri, later, making the guys ogle at her in Dil to pagal? Remember the kya bolti babe Rani giggling on the streets and years later making junta rap to B&B? Remember that bubbly chubby Kajol in Baaziger transform into that elegant sari clad beauty in KKKG ? Remember the stutter-stammer ShahRukh in Darr a with weird hairdo, now the Badshaah of Bollywood? Remember that Bachan Jr in refugee looking a total disaster to that heart beat stirring masculine image in Dhoom?

Well, honestly, Manish Malhotra dint pay me a nickel to write about this frog turned prince story, neither will I trouble my Mr. Brain to think about them. But when two hardcore shoppers indulge in ‘shopping-is-in-my-blood’ mood, the result comes heavy (on our pockets included) on a MAKEOVER.

The two insane ladies in question are Rashmi and me, and makeover in question is on our apartment. Last evening we got into a barmy mood to make Walmart rich, our bank accounts less richer and our apartment into a cozy little den. Our only excuse, “BF nahi hai, par paisa hai, to khudpe uudaalo”. Now if you ask me the connection between the bf and home stuff, I don’t know, but we needed a sensible reason to spend our hard earned dollars, um.
(Potential BF materials can take my hint)

Our apartment is a little one with 2 bedrooms and a bath. We had not furnished it much over these months, so basically everything was in need of attention. We decided to go with a theme for each room and give attention to details. We had pros and cons discussed over each item picked, owing to our management backgrounds and toured all the sections of Wal-Mart.

Now, our bathroom is in vibrant blue with towels, candles, flowers, in hues of blue. The base color is cream and blue gives a lively touch. We even have a blue dustbin, talk about color scheme.

We took maximum time over the kitchen area. We already had a cream-black dinette and decided on greenery being the theme. But as we settled on aqua blue crockery and dinner set, we decided to stick to “mera wala blue” thing. I am planning to donate my blue clothes, or I will look like a dinner piece soon.

The living room is very bright with large windows overlooking the swimming pool, and lot of greenery. We were fascinated with Men in Black, so we went Women in Black. The living room is simple with two large comfy cushions and lot of place to squat around. Bright yellow sunflowers give a welcome sunny touch to the room.

The whole process was a wonderful experience for both of us as each piece here is the result of our efforts and we are proud. We have our heart poured into making it into a small nest for us. It will be our home for a few months, where our tired souls would return to at the end of the long day, where we will curl up to watch our daily soaps, where we will discuss our future plans, were we miss our ma-pa and friends, where we try cooking stuff, where we giggle over the most stupid things, where we invite our friends, where we feel at home.

A small humble home, away from our home.

Home Delivery

I love pizzas, given a choice between John Abraham*ahem* and medium cheese pissa, I would close my heart on the later without any known guilt. I guess I was in 8th standard when I ate my first pizza. That was one memorable day! I wore my new socks and even ironed my jeans, to make a grand entry into the world of hyper junk food. Wimpy’s had just opened its only outlet in Mangalore and we flocked to try the French fries and pizzas there.

Uh, after a few months they had to pack their bags as the localities preferred the Taj Mahal rava dosa to the ‘khandapate maharag maaraya’ (too expensive buddy) pizzas. Anyway, Dominos could not stir my taste buds either with their half toasted pizzas. I rather ate the masala paapad at the Karavali Utsav.

Come Bangalore, and the chain of pizza outlets in Brigade did satisfy Mr.Toungue with their varieties but Mr. Pocket did not co-operate with the bills. Often, both indulged in violent conflicts and left my dads’ ATM less resourceful.

In US it’s a total different story. It’s like a pizza dream come true for me. At first, I used to empty the mango pickles over the pizza to make it spicy, but now, I am a total pizza loyal person, with an exception to French fries (the main culprit behind my well endorsed waistline).Green peppers, mushrooms, onions, cheese, spinach, olives, over a thin soft crust with crushed pepper, um, makes even the saint in me eager to watch a pole dance..

Last week, I got into a Herculean take of baking pizza at home. A colleague volunteered to teach me (I decided that would be a nice career path after I come to India) and I volunteered to eat to the last piece.


Ingredients to make a delicious pizza:

One willing & generous person who will bake the pizza.
One Kodak Z740 camera, fully loaded to click photos.
2 music cd’s of latest hindi hits.
One bowl of Dryer’s Choc Moose ice-cream to cool you down during the pizza making.
One platter of Kroger’s Nacho chips with cheese topping to munch on.
One reclining cushion sofa to make yourself comfortable.



























The pizza was very delicious and nothing like I ever had before. The crust was crispy at the base and soft inside. The sauce was moderately spicy. The liberal use of onions, mushrooms and bell peppers made it filling and delectable. And the melting cheese made my calorie control program go on a Jupiter tour. Lynda was so generous that she packed me the remaining pieces for later eating. God bless her soul !*amen*





BTW : I hated the movie “Home Delivery”.
And I am wondering why we don’t have any new hindi tracks on pizza?

Mission Trails-a hike

San Diego is a city with lot of canyons, and they are the base for trail enthusiastic to spend the weekend. The weather is perfect with a steady wind blowing from the Pacific Ocean and the trails are an escape to be with one’s own self.


May 12th Saturday, destination Cowles mountain top, which is said to be the highest point in SD and 4 of us(Lynda, Rashmi, Mr. Tanhayi and me), set our gears to hike on Mission Trails.


Mission Trails Regional Park encompasses nearly 5,800 acres of both natural and developed recreational acres. Its rugged hills, valleys and open areas represent a San Diego prior to the landing of Cabrillo in San Diego Bay in 1542.

We set from the base armed with water bottles and sunscreen lotions. The sunlight is very strong in this coast and no sun protection means seeing a tanned roasted you later. We also get dehydrated much faster; hence lot of liquids is essential.

The initial climb was easy with lot of hedges and rails for support. The soil is light brown and very slippery. Wild flowers are seen on either side along the trail. These flowers r usually very small and belong to the cacti nomenclature. Butterflies, small insects, birds and bugs are seen if one is very observant and makes less noise.

I love to trek alone; it gives me a lot of time to think. Hence, I strayed behind with Mr. Tanhayi and enjoyed the solitary walk. Treks along the Western Ghats for all these years had made me addicted to the coolness of the fresh ever green forests. The feeling of direct sunlight burning my back, the dusty mud path, the scant growth of vegetation and all families of cactus communities created a different mood. As the weather is dry, we do not sweat much and the throat gets parched very easily.

Occasionally, I came across a few fellow hikers with “hi, have a great day” smiles. I am impressed to see the enthu of the small kids for outdoor life. Parents bring along babies in their bags, hauling some over shoulders, some running around wild, and some looking really rugged in the hot sun. I have decided to take my kids(off course, when I have one) into the nature from a young age. I also like the concept of the whole family hiking together. I wonder why my parents never came hiking with me and my bro ?

We did take a few breaks to catch our breath after a steep climb and I took more breaks to get my camera into action. I was pretty enthralled by a huge,really bright,coulourful bug but looked like he was in no mood for action. He flew away even before I could give him a cheesy smile. But I did capture a few shots of other small bugs.

I noticed a pretty interesting thing on the hike. After a certain bend, the wind turned abruptly strong. I had made a mental note of it to check it on return and I did notice that after that bend(going down) the wind was hot again. I guess it is something to do with the altitudes and some geography-thermo dynamics stuff. But, I did like this thing.

The view along the trail was amazing and Mr. Tanhayi kept making some random comments. From one point, we could see an expanse of the whole San Diego from all directions. Mr.T and me hummed some of our favorite songs and had some real good discussions.

The top of the mountain trail had a small monument structure named after the Cowles who was some ranching pioneer of this city in 1800’s. The view from the top was beautiful beyond words and I was totally spell bound. On side I could see the small settlements and houses, other side was green mountains and one side laid a total desert like barren land. The joy of being there was pure and peaceful.

We spent sometime there, enjoying the silence, and let the wind sing to us. The descend was much more fun trying to balance over the muddy rocks. I felt at peace with Mr.T; he was very understanding when I gave him a piece of my mind.

A great day under the sun, sweating and hiking, we need to do more of this Mr.T....

Click here for more information on Cowles Summit and here for more photos.

Blog-eh-naadan

For the people who have been celebrating my absence from the blog world- I am back!
This time with a better senseless post, so please avoid reading it. Instead, you can count your Boss's fingers, brush your teeth, and even make Mrs.Gupta’s 3 year old cry.

I have been in trance for a couple of days. Well, I get up, brush my teeth, have bath, make tea, even make faces at my neighbors dog, cross the road between cars, but yes, I was in trance.

Reason: Jagjith Singh live in concert
May 12, 2006 –Speckles Theatre, San Diego. Time:8.30 p.m. to 12.30 a.m.

Ever since I heard that Jagjith Singh is to perform in SD, I have been dreaming “big”. With the “big" I mean, its hard to get tickets for any Indian shows here, the ticket prices are exorbitant and the muggles of my age will never agree to spend a friday night, in the rangeen downtown listening to some fellow with his harmonium, talking only about love and break-up. They rather watch the tight-white-pant Mithunda do a kabutar dance with bridge-eyebrow Ayesha Julka.

I had asked a couple of them and they gave me 'jeez, is she really so insane?’ look. The same you would give to Imran Hashmi in a movie without the goo-goo-kisso scene. They thought I was crazy enough to have my ipod filled with sad songs, not to mention the non-stop dard bare geet playing on my comp. I cant help it, I get some untold pleasure when listening to the saddest of the songs. I guess the 16th pair of chromosome in my DNA structure has some problems.

But, I was there, on the second row(one of my friends was generous to share with me an extra VIP pass, may his kids have the best lot of bf/gf. *amen*) sitting in a trance as he sang his soulful compositions. Each ghazal had some myriad beauty, some untold feelings, some memories, some pain. The time stood still as the magic touched my heart.

Ever since, I have been walking around humming those tunes and making people jump out of their skins. My ipod, given a chance will report to the apple harrasment bureau and get me behind the bars. I guess my ipod thinks he has a gramophone ghost in him, considering the amount of old songs I play.

On Sunday, I went on a hike to San Elaijo (pron: san e-lai-ho) with a friend and her husband. It was great and refreshing, 5 hours in the sun, sweating, walking, trees and me. Mr. Tanhayi gave me company but he promised to bite Ms. Josette’s cats’ tail if I write about him. He’s too possessive these days. I like the wind blowing through my ears, birds chirping far away, and simply walking. It gives a lot of time to think about myself, not that it is needed or it helps, but anyway.

On the movie watching front, I watched around 7 movies last week. Gangster was the one which beats me hands down on being senseless. Even Imraan’s gooey kissing looks clichéd. It’s because of his bad performance that my post sounds so drab. My peanut butter brain refuses to wake up complaining about the ordeal he underwent watching that movie. I am so sorry.

And I am orkutting from yesterday. I dint like the name “orkut” so never bothered to click there, but after continuous & serious jaanleva threats from friends, I set myself rolling there. Now, I can’t stop myself. I have met my school friends, my aunt's neighbors, their ex-bfs, their current wives, and some ‘I have seen you in sonu’s wedding’ kind of people. If anyone is as jobless as me, add me at ‘dharmurao’ in orkut.

And no, in that photo, the legs are not mine. I don’t know which babe she was, but I found the leg, the sand prints extremely pretty. "Lady, if those are your legs, jeez they are great".

If I am not seen around with my blog, its just that the nariyal you broke over your pets head has been accepted and I have decided give Mr. Blog a vacation and I am busy orkutting. See, I am a peace loving creature too.

The scratch sheet of my life

I have this habit of noting the random ramblings of my peanut butter brain in a scratch sheet. Mainly because he, that is my Mr. Brain, is very moody and resolves into the ‘sleep’ mode as he fancies. So I make a note of it and later try to key it down.

But the key-down process happens only once in a blue moon, if lucky. I either feel very lazy or the stuff on the paper looks senseless or I just don’t feel like sharing. The result; the scratch sheet lies totally orphaned in the dark corners of some book or desk, under the mattress and I even found one in the kitchen drawers.

They make a good reading on a lonely rainy day. To read what I had written on some unknown day, in some unknown mood flashes a 70mm screen of instant flashback. Um, the ones of the Hindi movie kind, "bees saal peheleki baat hai"-*tin tan tun* But mine are seen on the flat plasma screen in hi-tech color, totally John Abraham estyle( I am totally *ahem about him these days).

Even the most depressing & emotional write-ups make me giggle to glory knowing that every line there was a part of my growing process, a part of me. I see several forgotten moments of my life unfold as I recall some bitter sweet memories. Some memories are like the fragments of thread which I can never bind together and some which I will never live again.

These scratch sheets can be classified into two broad types.
Type 1- written by I-me-myself.
Type 2- some type of communication between friends where 2 or more people are involved.

I particularly like the second type; the small classroom chits I saved from my student days. Remember those days when we passed few small chits around the class during the boring lectures; some movie plans, flash news about the latest crush, that dress you saw, that senior you disliked?
(ah, I used chits during the exams too, but not to propagate my underground talents I will save it for some other day)

From the Govinda’s hyper maniac move in an item number, that ink mark on the school dada’s shirt, that love note on the restroom walls, that Mrs.Dazy’s eating habits, that lost hair of Prof’s wife- we had everything neatly discussed here. I even remember a friend who wrote some movie dialogues to give impact to our discussions. Some topics don’t make sense even to the devil in me.

I have a few more ridiculous chits where we had a grading session for the guys of our class whom I have not met or heard over the passing years. Some chits babble the sweet crushes or wrenching heartbreaks of our young heats, which are now long forgotten. Some have highly volatile plans to spend the weekend without the parents having a clue. Many have insane pet names of people whom I have no idea about.

A torn page from the note book was our universe of fulfilled chatter, carefree student life, selfless friendship and genuine trust, then. Now, it is a mirror of what I was, to remind me of those simple yet uncomplicated days; that trust and love we bestowed on each other, the sharing of our very personal feelings in spite of our differences; it is a window to my own true self.

Now, we are separated by time and distances. Each one is busy making a life for himself, busy climbing the career path, busy in the complexity of his personal life, busy managing his finances. Our priorities have changed, our friends have changed, and we have changed.

We don’t have the time to contact each other, we don’t have their contact address either, we don’t even recall a few of them, we don’t get a chance to say a simple “hi” to those sweet people who made our childhood days so memorable. We may never meet a few of them ever again. We will never live those days ever again. It will never be the same between us ever again.

This post goes to all those darling friends of mine, in contact or otherwise, who left their loving signatures on my life’s scratch sheet.

Thanks Guyz.

MTS Route 25

I take the MTS bus route 25 (Clairemont –Downtown) to work, daily morning at 7.58 sharp from the Diane Avenue to Shaw line. Note the timing; it’s very accurate in US, like the prompt rains of Mangalore.

In US, especially in the west coast, taking the bus is as common as me washing my clothes (I take this extreme step ONLY when my wardrobe sports a bundle of empty hangers).
Anyway, not much people take the bus, bus schedule is limited, holidays see no bus, and you take the same time in traveling +waiting as in walking. Get the picture ?

So, the total number of people in the bus is limited. This is a mighty welcome after the footboard traveling I did when in India. At times, I was confident that I would make a very good circus monkey (I don’t mean to insult the monkey here, comparing him with myself). The same people take the same bus, at the same time, from the different-same stops, in the same weekly schedule.

We have some untold bond with each other, say a bus-bond (like blood bond, casual bond, work bond, James bond, uh). We give pleasant smiles to each other, nod in unison, give approving glances, etc. it’s quite strange that total strangers share such understanding, non-verbal bonds.

I don’t know anyone’s name, family details, place of work, if he has a tooth missing, if his neighbors wife is pretty, if he has a dog, neither of us do infact. Its like John Abraham knowing the names of Yugoslavian kings(uh, I watched his movie yesterday and have this *ahem feelings on him, well-I don’t know if that country had kings atall, but I like the Miss Yugoslavia, 2006). If I have made my point clear, we are almost aliens to each other.

I have my own ways of addressing my bus-bonded-friends. And each one is important to me in his own way. If one person is not seen in the bus, I wonder what went wrong.
And hence, I assume that they think the same (ref: liberty of thought-Indian Constitution)

The driver uncle is a man in 50’s, a very sweet fellow.
DU: (as I show my bus pass) ged merning youn ledy !
Me: (lady, me? * flashing my ‘I brush everyday’ smile) good morrning!

Me: (as I get down) Thenk Ya sooo much (thanks to my company accent tutor, I have this habit now *sigh)
DU: ye aare welcome ‘sooo much’ hav a great dey. (the stress on ‘soooo’)
Me: Thenk Ya, you too, b-bye.
DU:see ya tmorow!

(plz note: the same conversation is repeated every day from past 4 months)

Some regulars in my bus are :
One black guy- whom I think to be Mr.B, he always sits on the right, wears some real funky coat.
Mobile lady-who speaks, non-stop all her way.
Paper uncle- who always carries a ‘tribune’ but I have never seen him read it.
Man in black- who always wear a black suit, carries a black case, but hes fair ok.
Aditi- I know her name, as I sit next to her every day & we get down at the same stop, shes from India.
Fair feet -who takes the bus from the same stop as I do, he usually stirkes a simple tlk as we wait for the bus.
Pak lady-coz she looks like she’s from Pakistan, she gives me very sweet smile.
Tension party-this lady of my age is from India, but she seems to be in some untold tension everyday.
Mallu babe-she’s from India too, possibly from Kerala with owing to the coconut oil applied to her hair.
Lady with glasses-elderly lady with dark glasses.

None of us speak to each other, with exception of an occasional “hi” to each other. When one misses the bus some day, he gets, “hey-where-were-u?” look from all.
And he replies giving “uh-I-got-up-late” look. And we give him understanding smiles.
( I am not sure if that’s the reason, but lets apply the liberty of thought again)

On Mondays I go to the library, and take the 7.15 to return. I never realized this until one Monday the driver uncle2 said, “see ya next Mondai”.
I was surprised to know that he actually knew that I go to library on Mondays. Wow…

It makes me wonder, what is it that makes this bond so unique is. How can someone, so alien to our life make a difference to us. How can we relate to people whom we hardly know. How can one simple smile from these people make my day so beautiful.
Uh, many “how” follows.

I dont think I will ever talk to these people anything more than a “hi”. We may never have dinners together, we may never know each others name, we may never know each others problems, me may never know what each-other dislike, we may never know if someone needs help, we may never.

But we do know that tomorrow, hopefully we will see each others smile in MTS Route 25(Clairemont-Downtown). I know.

Me, You & Interview

You, You, & You, listen to me…
I have been very busy today.

Ah, I know you are giving me those dharouni laughs, *hmpf?

The best part of my morning saw me do interviews for the fresh candidates in my company. Well, during the first half I was busy staring at the paintings on the wall, my nails, empty chairs, dirty carpet, my pencil and the kora kaagaz as they took their written tests.

My peanut butter brain was noting a few thoughts to be posted later, but the dhookebaaz is sleeping now, so I guess I am left to my own devices. So quite forgot what he wanted to write. Maybe about Ms.Josettte’s cat, its tail and the bacteria on its hair, who cares anyway ?

The interview was an enriching experience. The differences in the way it is conducted in US and India are way too distinctive. As I was actively involved with the HR of my company in the Indian office, I had a good opportunity to learn the various “ullufying” tricks the HRs practice.

The interviews are very informal here, like ‘coffee with Karan’. The whole atmosphere is casual and there is a lot of general taking. The panel included one senior manager, 2 senior claims adjusters and me (well, I had to keep an eye on them).

Candidate: hey, did you watch that movie where the hero sued his attorney for his claim?
Panel: ah! Yes, that was interesting, I tried doing the same, but the attorney happens to be my wife, ha ha ….
(I am serious; we had some movie stuff around)

The candidate used more slang than Siddhu would, in a one-day cricket. Jokes followed examples, personal experiences, areas of interest, and many other discussions, other than Mallika Sherawat’s saree collection. I was impressed by the direct, no-beat-around-the-bush approach. The candidates were casual yet on business, general yet to the point.

The time taken for each candidate was almost 40 mins and lot of personal questions was asked. Long term, short term goals discussed, growth hierarchy stated, management style described, expectations from the candidate was made clear. All this, very direct yet very informal.

I was quite surprised when the candidate shot couple of high-end questions at the panel. I mean, coming from India where we give a tooty-fruity smile to the panel, challenging the them seemed quite out of my brain boundary. I kept wondering the skimpy faces my HR would do, had I bothered to ask such questions, maybe ill try sometime.

I was impressed with the candidate’s knowledge about the company. They had no doubt done an exhaustive research on the website. One managed to ask about the Indian operations and the site links. And these were fresh college grads, BA. I doubt if our grads would have taken so much pain, coz I dint when I had done my MBA.

It was a very good leaning for me and I am glad that I have a few more interviews scheduled for the coming week. Hoping to meet some handsome guys in the process. Wish me luck.

Out of topic-I watched Pardes last night, and found a couple of things quite funny. The way Mahima dressed like a total ‘gaunti’, some unrelated sequences, some special effects. Well, have watched this movie min 8 times now, but never concentrated on these before.
And even in this movie, Ganga asks Rajeev,

“aap chai mein shakkar kitna lenge ?”

Coffee with my brain

Have you ever split a glass of water?
Ah! You have….everyone does that at some point of his life (uh, I do it more often, whatever)
So, have you seen how the water flows, without direction, like the Star TV serials?
Ah! You have…..

Why the heck I am asking these questions? It’s because I am like that water right now. I had a heavy lunch and my peanut butter brain does not want to work, it tells me its time for some random undirected flowing.

My first stop: I wonder why I call my brain as ‘peanut butter brain’ (I think by scratching my nose, so that the intensity travels through my nose to my brain).
Now, I know I have a brain, everyone has a brain. I learnt in school that it is made of some grey matter. In biology I learnt to draw some highly twisted-wriggled-choked mass for my records. In psychotherapy I leant the other “internal” aspects (details not disclosed to protect the privacy of brains) which decide our actions.

So, I guess I too have one, which is very active when it wants, uh-when-it-wants-to. So, I think it’s an separate entity staying in my upper chamber without paying me rent.
I like peanut butter, it’s very tasty. I love the Reese’s peanut cups that we get in US. But I don’t like it on my bread or burger.
I guess my brain is also soft and tastely like the peanut butter, makes sense ?
Forget it.

Yesterday, I went to the library near my house. I came across a book called “Blogging for Dummies”. Now, I am not a dummy but I was interested to know how a dummy could be a genius blogger. It was quite an interesting read, with details on various blog sites and other “I did this-you do this-we all will do this” topics. It’s as clichéd as Gushan Grover acting in a negative role. I wonder how he would look modeling for the Paris Fashion week.

I have been cooking off late, yeah, and it turns out pretty tasty and edible. I mean, nothing visible has affected me or Rashmi, so I conclude I am a safe ‘cooker’. I know its COOK, but I want to call myself cooker. I bring cut-frozen vegetables from Vons, with some veggie sauce, mix, and other stuff, mix everything, and microwave them. It’s almost revolution in traditional cooking.

I got this ice-cream from Ben&Jerry(strikes a bell ? ah! The same one Pretty Zinta craves in Salaam Namaste). Its name is Chunky-Monkey. I liked its name so I bought it. I liked its taste, so ate it all. I need to something about my sweet tooth very soon. *sigh*.

I am watching a lot of old movies at night. The black&white ones, where hero has a thin mush, ladies wear frilly frocks or ultra tight wrapper sareers. They dance around the trees in real funny moves, and songs are wonderfully melodious. I love watching such movies, and watching it online at the unearthly hours, gives me hyper happiness. Maybe I have a owl soul residing in me, without giving me rent. (again?)
I watched Anupama last night, dimply Sharmila and Dharma paaji, I love all the songs of this movie, they are soul touching.

Our office cafeteria serves caffeine and de-café types of coffee. I have been consuming both without any guilt and limit over the past few months. Only today I came to know the difference other than that being -caffeine in blue pot and de-caffeine in orange pot. A colleague gave me a detailed gyan session, when the whole of me wanted to grab a cup and run to my desk. Um, whole 5 mins of “gyan over coffee”.

I have not done my laundry for a week, and don’t plan to do for the next week either. I am hit by an “I am a pig in the sty” syndrome for this week. My room looks the replica of a wife hit unshaved husband condition. Maybe, I’ll motivate myself to put some order into the tornado hit zone.

Ok, I can’t think more, looks like my peanut butter brain wants to work now. Well, I do need a cup of coffee; I guess I’ll take the de-café with hazelnut creamer.

By the way- in Hindi movies, why does the heroine always-only-every time offer the hero a cup of tea?

Mr. Tanhayi on prowl

Ab hua yeh, keh aaj Saturday tha. So what?

Well, it comes every week and I am given to liberty to sleep late, wake-unwake-rewake, sleep. This Saturday, as any other saturdays was yet another Saturday. Uh?

I got up to speak to my parents over the messenger, my weekly update on what-how-why question session. Now, I call them everyday-thanks to the Ambani papa’s dream. But you know parents, they wanna get more details on my underground activities. Its very hard for them to believe that I am a responsible-matured-sensible person now( I prefer to think so), after 23 years of blissful, untamed, survival. It as hard as offering Nana Pathekar a romantic lead role in Karan Johar’s next movie. The same intensity of shock.

Well, after an hour or two of surveillance and them feeling sleepy, and me having milk-coffee-iced tea(order keeps changing) I get back for yet another sleeping session. Often I read a couple of pages from some book to get this sleep fairy back.

My dad has told me to save money for my grandkids, so I skip breakfast-lunch to save my hard earned dollars. I definitely plan to give major gyan sessions to my grandkids someday telling them how hard it was for me to live my life when I was of their age. *ahem* if my husband does not donate me to the zoo, that is.

In the noon, much to my dislike, I had to go to Abhi’s place to watch Taxi No 9211. Hindi movie-John Abraham-Sameera Shetty ? I told sleep fairy to meet me later and I vault jumped to his apartment. He, knowing my dollar saving habits had a mini lunch with malai kulfi ready. The movie was as senseless as I was during my school days, so I dint trouble my peanut brain to make any sense either.

Evening he said we could go to the beach and do some jogging, so Rashmi, Bhai and me went to the pacific beach. Now, I love beaches, I love sunset, I love waves, I love sand, and I loved being there.

While they jogged, I went to say “hi” to the waves. It was pure bliss being there, mein aur meri tanhai. Without any raffle to my thoughts, I walked around. I enjoyed being with myself, after a long time.

People all around, playing, surfing, partying, jogging, but it seemed like I was there, amidst all that noise yet, all alone and akeli humming my favorite Mukesh songs. I get some untold extreme happiness when I listen to the soulful Mukesh sad songs. I guess it’s something to do with traits I got from my Dad. I sat on the sand, did some meditation, released all the stress of the past week, felt light like cotton. I really dont know how a cotton feels, but at that moment I felt light in spite of my overfed weight, so light as a cotton, fine.

I kept wondering, why I wait for friend’s company when being with myself gives me equal pleasure. Why do I need others to make me happy when talking to Mr. Tanhayi is much easier. Mr.Tanhayi is very communicative, as he told me a lot of things about myself and others. A lot of thoughts flashed across my 70 mm internal plasma screen as Mr.Tanhayi gave me some gyan session(he was happy that finally I made time for him)there I sat, oblivious to the world.

After the sunset, we drove back home and I was ready for session of movies. But I kept thinking about my Mr. Tanhayi and promised him, I will spend more time with him henceforth. He had made me happy today, genuine happiness without anyone being the reason, but me. I was still thinking as I watched beautiful Rekha in Umrao Jaan.

Um…here she comes, my sleep fairy is back …

MUMBA khush hua

I have been missing my Uni days a lot. Those carefree days of blissful ignorance, that arrogance not to study, those days of not writing assignments, those days of “group-discussed” exams, those days of bunking, um…. That was some blissful existence in the namma-Konaje.

My dept was called the Department of Business Administration formally, but junta simply yelled it MUMBA (Mlore Uni MBA). It gave a evil sounding edge like Amrish Puri in Mr.India which served its purpose to scare the other depts. Our Uni has 28 depts & any competition meant 27 so-so depts(ranging from literature, yogic science, journalism and other unheard depts) against the mighty mighty Mumbas(thats us).
Pls: I have no rivalry against other depts, but we like to think that we ruled the campus.

Ours was the biggest dept with strength of 120 off class. The “off-class” term is used because the “in-class” strength could be compared with clothes on Bipasha Basu. Well, we believed in “outstanding” performance by actually standing outside the class.

To tell about our Profs, we had the ‘old is gold’ gang. Not that the other dept Profs were tall-dark-handsome, NO ! but our dept boasted of Prof with degrees like anaconda attached to their names. They also had some high ‘seats’ in the senate and state educational board. Pity that their seats in the staffroom were not all that comfortable.

We usually had specialization classes in the afternoon. Which meant, our presence was optional and subjective? Hence, presence of the Prof was also occasional. So we did specialize in many other areas other than the designated one. We had self study, others study, others gf/bf study, others gf/bf ex-love study, GD on topics of international importance, extra reading (??) sitting on the stone benches outside the dept. to annoy the student of the science dept. (poor souls dint have a single free class)

Our assignments were uniform in all ways because we strongly believed in team-work, equal distribution of marks and photocopying. It had the similarity of the Ekta Kapoor ‘K’ serials.Such was the love and concern, ahem. Even our internal marks projected our ‘co-operative’ skills with similar marks. Talk about perfect understanding uh?

Our dept had the best ‘pundi’ gang. Pundi refers to the complicated art of flirting with people of opposite sex, our dept and other depts irrespective. Its not flirting in real sense, but even a mere talk under a tree, corridors, liab, meant pundi. We even had ‘pundi excellence awards’ like GT pundi, toilet pundi, liab pundi, classroom pundi etc.
plz:will deal with the Uni slangs in my later posts.

However, we did have a series of annual budget, fiscal policy and credit policy presentations every year, where the first years present some highly complex money matters and second years screw them. each student is seen carrying a heavy bulk of one month collection of economic times, business news, sensex, with the sole purpose of grilling the other. For some of us, it meant reading the Greek mythology written in Chinese script. It was as interesting as the watching Sonia Gandhi act in a kannada Upendra movie. I was safe both the years being the moderator of the presentation. However, the budget session was always followed by a huge snack bar session. Hence, these sessions saw our dept in full attendence in the old senate hall.

Playground had our max attendance, our cheering team being the best with some creative singers. Cheering meant –screaming with the intensity that other team looses its calm and gives us ‘meet-me-later’ threatening looks, ha think they could stop us ?
Our dept had some excellent players who had barged the seats with sports quota. Their only presence was in the playgrounds when we actually got to ‘see’ them. We had a few classmates whom we never saw in class ??? and we wondered how they played for our dept team. We even heard some were smuggled from the professional teams. However, we won the championship every year.

We had our sports cheering T in black with a MUMBA rulz title, a red fest T with our goals *ahem* all over and a midnight grey blazer which we wore only to curse the Mlore heat and give business to Ram tailors. We actually looked like funtoosh heros, suit-boot in the Konaje(the place where the Uni was located) jungle. Imagine Deve Gowda wearing a dinner jacket while campaigning in Mandya ?

Uni hosts an inter-dept fest called "Moments" with the finale held in feb for 2 days. MUMBA's left no stone unturned and no class unbunked to participate in these events. 2 months of rigorous participation, practice, fights, politics, blackmails, temper tantrums, see us giving a wonderful presentation and bagging the Moments trophy. I have very special memories of these events*sigh*, when I literally pulled hair off my senior.

We also hosted a Rose day(valentines day) where anyone one could send a card&rose for Rs.5 to anyone, any dept. Assured the card will be personally delivered and rose upon rejection will be used for others. This was fun as we wrote really mushy cards(wait till I catch you alive Mr.Romeo) and cupid was all around the campus. Also, the proceeds went for our Crossroads(an state level mgt meet hosted by our dept). Our Chairman had some objections with the whole cupid stuff, and I personally gave him "we love you sir" cards both the years. ( I was his darling, sweet, innocent, decent, loving student-he dint know about my underground activities-teh teh).

We students had some untold morals of existence which bound every student on his honor. Other than a few exceptions of "my parents had a dream-I will fullfill it"( you know, the Ambani style) , we practised them.

Any attendance more than required to appear for the exams was considered below our standards. It was like Salman Khan with shirt, you know.
Any student in liab, in the mgt section seen with a HBR or any mgt book for that matter,was a kalank to the dept. I have the record for not borroing a single book for 2 years.
The deadlines only meant that we had to start the assignments in the following week. And if you submit it before that, you are dead.
To avoid pressure on the Profs we have to submit uniform assignments. This saved his time and ours, and we could use it for other educational issues right?
Comp Lab was an entertainment zone to do everything but the project. If music is restricted, it only implies that you play the latest tracks in full volume.
Presentations in class should never exceed the time to make coffee/tea. If it exceeds, you better provide us coofee/tea.
GD’s meant two teams fight till the Prof gets wild and rushes out of class, later we are seen coloring the campus.
Guest lectures are meant for the guests and not us, so don’t bother troubling them.


Ah, those memories of my dept with that unlimited fun, masti, pundi, MUMBA rulz macha !

(could not add Uni photos as I don’t have them with me in US, will try to smuggle from India soon)

Uni Canteen

Talking about my Uni dayz, my other favourite place (after the liab) was the canteen. This was a simple shed-like structure( keeping with the Uni theme) with stone benches.

There were 3 service areas. The room at the entrance had the cash counter, ice-cream and local cold drinks crates and a big round table which could seat 8 people.
The room adjacent to this was a regular 1950’s style hotel seating with a self-service counter. A parallel room ran along both these rooms and had a strategic view point & one could leisurely see the Uni main road which connected very “important” depts., boys hostel, SBI bank, liab, etc.

Our business administration dept had the strategic advantage of the central location to monitor the activities that breezed through the campus. We truly believed that the welfare of our personal life strived on the happenings of the campus. An eye on the canteen served all our purposes so our dept was the biggest patron.

Well, the food here is worth mentioning as it saved our money and kept a check over our weight. One plate of veg pulav cost Rs. 5 but two hippo hungry mortals could share it(please note that I am not talking about the quantity, the taste was so delicious that we could not eat more than 8 spoons max).

The menu gave a complex to the TAJ westend ‘diners special’ with its bonda/bajji menu, but it served our purpose of filling our stomachs. Infact, some of our super seniors said that the canteen could celebrate 25 years of same dedicated menu. But I love the bread bonda which was served if there was excess leftover of bhaji the previous day.

One could order tea or coffee, but the result “chaapi” (cha+kaapi)was an untold mystery. For that matter, any of the milkshakes used to taste and look the same and we had considerable skills to identify our orders. Not that it mattered, but we believed in drinking what we ordered.

The thali was decently served with lots of today-yesterday-yester-yesterday leftovers and 5 could decently share the meal and the consequences. But the decent price of Rs 10 made it very appealing. Other reason being, it was a sound foundation for the specialization lectures. (mine was HR & our Profs believed we were better off without their presence, and we believed we were better off in their absence.)

Our five* canteen also served an array of local drinks and ice-creams. Zaffa, bicojoy, uncle dinky, cool candy were some of the never-ever-heard brands.
The Mlore heat, the once-uopn-a-time-there-was-a-fan sweat forced us to try these brands. Rumour is heard that the owners of these brands own big bunglows with the proceeds from the Uni students and the doctors nearby.

Our Profs too ate in the canteen and we made a couple of hypothesis testing on them. We made mental observation of the prof’s spouses cooking habits and culinary skills. We even managed to give them a sly ‘I know” smiles, not that they understood or our internals were at stakes.

Evenings offered the delightful “chat” options. The only concern was the ‘sev’ which could also be used for pole vaulting. And occasionally the ‘puri’ would choke a few careless students . After all, eating is also an art.

Personal attention was offered to those who had befriended the waiters. These were young boys, below 16, doing some part-time service to pay their school fees. I had the pleasure of first-order-first-service from these very talkative guys. They used to add milk for my milkshakes and my chutney was less watery, and masala dosa actually had masala !

Canteen was always colorful with students from all depts, talking, singing, screaming, and other unexplained activities in progress. Assignments, discussions, presentations and meetings were also held admist all the chaos. Canteen attendance was much more appreciated than the class attendance and why not, for some canteen was the sole reason of being in the campus.

I guess after 2 years, when I go back to the Uni, the same menu will greet me and I will be glad for the fond memries of my Unidays. Got to wait & watch now....