tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75639482024-03-07T20:36:21.488-08:00The Perpetual MisfitMaking it my lifelong goal to be a perfect misfit wherever I am, whatever I do. Success so far!Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-89004159461527673092015-02-12T23:58:00.002-08:002015-02-12T23:58:38.873-08:00Mindy Kaling: You are so wrong!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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As an Indian gal of a certain age, I am conditioned to be an
undying fan of certain people on American TV—Rachel in Friends, Buffy the
vampire slayer (if I was trying to be weirdly different), Phoebe in Friends and
of course, that girl in Remington Steele coz we still got the serious British
guy hangover.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Cut to now when
Mindy Kaling is rocking the scene with her insanely funny self, blonde TV girl
stereotype be damned. So I am pleased, right? My kids get to see someone like
effing Mindy Kaling on TV and aspire to be her? Awesome sauce! So imagine my surprise when
Mindy brings up the idea that South Asian women are invisible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who, us? Are you kidding me? Here is why we
are NOT:<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->‘Brown Privilege’: My first job in the U.S (coz
I reboot my life at every move) was in a tiny office where an older lady gasped
when she read about some female infanticide statistic in India. She ran over to
me to say “you are a survivor! Kudos!!”. To which I said ‘yes, ma’m. Oh, do you
think we could replace the red velvet cakes in the break room with chocolate
cakes instead?”. I got my wish, and my special ‘survivor’ privilege. Which
meant I always got to choose the takeout lunch first. Take that, you
cold-sandwich lovers!! I felt special.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->“Where I come from…”:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I live in San Francsico. Which means most
people have either attempted being a ‘global citizen’ or are eager for stories
to share at the water cooler so they can pretend they KNOW how to behave like
one. I might be the only person strongly reaffirming I have ridden on an
elephant, in the streets of a city. Which basically does not compute in
people’s heads. But. I. Thought. It. Was. Politically.Incorrect. Now.You. Tell.
Me. NO??<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->My crappy cooking skills are exotic: My mom can
stop laughing. Like right now.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The real challenge of being a south Asian woman
isn’t anonymity or invisibility. It’s that there are too many of us. I feel
like the first child who asks the mom “but I thought I was going to be the only
one. Like forever!”. So Mindy Kaling, much as I love you, you are so.wrong.
Nationwide is NOT on my side. I am hoping not.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></div>
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Me<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-974889741995241912011-06-17T00:08:00.000-07:002011-06-17T00:44:55.699-07:00The Sounds of MusicFunny, its not until I stepped out of India when I realized two things:<div><br /></div><div>1) The music repository that we have, on average, is huge. </div><div><br /></div><div>2) Our music classification, if we include the likes of 'movie' music, is rather odd.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let me elaborate on the first, first. The overarching circle here is the Hindi Movie Industry music (seriously, I am starting to find the 'wood' affiliation a bit annoying. Bolly, Tolly, Molly? What are they? Bimbos in the villains lair? I insist on Hindi film industry). Mom was and is an avid listener and makes bashful claims that my name was inspired by one such song. With a name that translates to 'dream' thats pretty much any song between 1977 and 1986. Then comes the state-based affiliation (Tamil, as it would be for us). For the longest time the songs were only melodious to me, the real meaning of the lyrics outside the grasp of my colloquial language skills (seriously, the lyricists sounded like they belonged to royal courts based on the songs alone). However, it was still music. Then came the influence of "English" songs which usually started with the safe 'Sound of Music' and then progressively and now embarrassingly graduated to the likes of Samantha Fox (there, i said it) and Madonna. And then comes the Tambram influence (oh yah mom. you are gonna see me use the word Tambram quite a lot here. So stop reading already). Tambram basically meant you were born with an innate affiliation to carnatic music. While the sibling wisely pointed out that most songs involved vigorous nodding and sounds but very little words, he was doomed to a summer of learning to drum the mridangam. While I can re-chant some of the songs even 20 years later, I can never tell if it came from the HMV audio tapes that we were subjected to every morning or because I liked it. So, on an average at age 5, the cross-bred AMC is exposed to 5 different types of music. Thats huge--simply because the differences are not only in language but structure and form too. Now, a quick cumulative analysis to late 1990s indicates a staggeringly large number of musical influences. (backdating it, the musical influences span decades because the Hindi movie songs of the 60s are just as relevant to my music collection as is the Elvis and the Beatles. I was not born during any of these times!).</div><div><br /></div><div>As for my second point, the classification of the music I listen to (As 'movie' music goes) was something I definitely dwelled upon when trying to fix a Pandora station. <i>We classify these types of music based on emotion, did you ever think about that?</i>. A cursory look at my audio tapes of the 80s would render this:</div><div><br /></div><div>-Old Hindi sad songs</div><div>-New Hindi sad songs</div><div>-Old Tamil happy songs</div><div>-Optimistic songs</div><div>-Romantic sad songs</div><div>-Tragedy songs</div><div>-fast songs (now its based on tempo, I presume)</div><div>-new romance</div><div>-old romance</div><div>-crazy songs (??)</div><div>-Songs about kids</div><div>-kids songs (whats the difference?)</div><div>-dad sad songs </div><div>-Relaxing songs (huh??)</div><div>-mom puja songs (This is the one me and my brother taped over with an audio version of one of our fights. Complete with sound effects of slapping and screaming. The audio footage also includes mom walking in on us and whacking our butts. No sound effects this time)</div><div><br /></div><div>This is exactly why a Pandora won't get my music affiliations (I now have hip-hop added to the mix just incase I missed 'anger' in my emotional music repository). And my playlists will always be titled based on emotions, not music types (So Lady Gaga is going to sit next to remixed Dum Maro Dum).</div><div><br /></div><div>Turning up the sound on 'Johhny Johhny Joker' under my 'peppy numbers' playlist.</div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-38116352468857949272011-04-08T13:24:00.000-07:002011-04-08T13:56:18.197-07:00Chronicling Surviving the Great Indian Middle Class Childhoodand missing it!<br /><br />I always envy those who were born in one city and lived their entire lives there. Case in point, Sunder the spousal unit. His entire life revolved around a few streets each was punctuated by a well-known or notorious panipuriwala. He has what is commonly referred to as langotiya yaars, which somewhat translates into 'underwear friends'. Its a common term to refer to teh fact that he knew his friends since they were running around in underpants. Now why this term is never used for the female population confounds me. Presumably females do not refer to anything underpantlike lest they be considered unladylike. <div><br /></div><div>Anycase, I envy these purebreds. Let a chance stranger standing in line at Starbucks ask me 'where i am <i>originally </i>from' [possibly after I have complained the 100th time of the complexity to placing orders when all i had to say was 'coffee' where I came from]. My typical response is 'India..near <i>Bombay </i>to be precise'. Which worked wonderfully if the damn globalization of everything had'nt happened. Chances are 10 years back I would say Bombay and all I had to hear was how the listener's friends uncle was from Bombay and was inviting him often but said listener was worried about the heat. It made for a quick end to the conversation where I would nod head, move it sideways to indicate the foggy SF weather was no match for what mumbai heat would be like and would proceed to pick my '<i>coffee' </i> and leave.<div><br /></div><div>Not so now, the listener most likely has made a trip to 'Bayangalooor' twice as the head of whatever it may be in his company so wants more precision to my response. 'Pune' I would say, absolutely not expecting him to know of it [and he wouldnt]. But if he be an Indian, he would now say 'oh you must have seen how much Pune has changed now right?'. To which I politely respond that I only studied in college and worked a bit in Pune. 'So where do your parents live?'. The now famous 'Bangalore'. "oh Bangalore..do you speak Kannada?". Well, no. See my parents are originally from Chennai and they wanted to settle there but eventually moved to Bangalore because they were wrong about re-liking Chennai and son was in Bangalore. "oh. so you are a Chennaiite?' the person now asks confused. "I was born there!" i say brightly. But I basically schooled in Ooty and another town near it [Coimbatore--which you will know of only if your dad was a cotton vendor]. See why I envy those who were born and dwelled in the same city for years? </div><div><br /></div><div>However, wherever I am supposed to be from in India, what has not changed is the uniformity to being brought up in the Great Indian Middle Class. The languages change, the cuisines change but there is a startling sameness to this sandwiched group and what it meant to me as a child. So here is my attempt to chronicle being brought up both in diversity and uniformity in the 80s, 90s in India.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reflexing my digits to get accustomed to writing more than bullet point lists</div><div>Peps.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-53793463313472458742010-08-16T09:42:00.000-07:002010-08-16T13:08:00.404-07:00Making the case for mediocre experiencesI am going through my photos from a recent summer trip to Florida and London [I know, odd combo. But we were going for muggy as the common theme for this trip]. There are 455 photos and the way it works is that I sit at my computer, filter the 455 photos to a more manageable 250 based on the variety of events and destinations and ensure it has the eye-catchability that is required of album sharing these days. And then I share a more selected few on Facebook while hosting the larger set on Picasa [which, if i am stupid enough to set on a public setting will notify everyone who is 'following' me, flattering as that may feel]. And i realize I am exhausted of superiorizing everything. And if I look at our experiences these days, it strikes me as unnaturally odd that all we seek are superlative experiences. A few samples:<br /><br />-restaurant reviews are a must for dinners out.<br />-movie reviews are imperative and needs to impress to suck 2-3 hours of our precious time<br />-photos must be edited upon clicking, each pose is evaluated right after the shutter clicks to ensure it looks appealing [and if not, another go at it so that we can ensure brilliant poses and smiles].<br />-childrens products come with motherly seal of approval [my moms club LOVED these toys for their 22 month olds]<br /><br />whatever happened to good ole mediocre experiences? you know, when you walk into a random hole in the wall and either get a surprise or a shock worth remembering? when you walk into a movie hall and watch a bad movie that you giggled all the way through in your seat coz it was SOO bad? there is a relative measure that is required to help us gauge what is truly a good experience thats memorable. Coz all we are doing is normalizing experiences otherwise, making them all labor-intensive projects even before we embark upon them [reading, comparing reviews].<br /><br />I vote to make September my mediocre experience month--no reviews for any products purchased, no reviews for any restos visited and watch movies based entirely on randomly chosen traits such as 'he looks cute in the promos'.<br /><br />Onwards and forward with mediocre experiences!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-46507893674381748472009-10-07T21:33:00.000-07:002009-10-07T22:24:18.679-07:00Here we go, a-job hunting oh!Allrighty, there is nothing that screams "I am a Bay Area native!!" better than being laid-off in a recession. Well, that and getting an iPhone within the first year of its launch. I qualify with both i guess.<br /><br />After killing myself with overloaded course-work, the MBA is finally out of the way and am looking at the job market with renewed vigor [well that, and the unemployment insurance guys keep self on my toes job-applying-wise].<br /><br />Recently stepped out of the warm comfort of linkedin, craigstlist and pretty-boring-hotjobs to careerbuilder.com and omg!! the spam is incredible!! I got 3 interview reuqest emails from aflac [they dont have a duck logo on their emails. strange] and a couple of pharma companies. Jeez, now clearing job-mail spam is a daily activity.<br /><br />I think the key is to dedicate a couple-hours everyday for job applications and cover letters. And quality oughta win over quantity of jobs applied for. How effective are networking/mixer events for job-seekers? Not very, I hope. I mean, honestly, its a breeding ground for competitive jostling. Everyone knows everyone else is there for the job that you want. And how likely is it that a well-written resume will always lose to chirpy introductions within 30 seconds? [save me the 'two minute elevator speech' advice. I would just as easily hand over the prospective employer my twitter id].<br /><br />Tweaking my resume as I type!<br />Peppito.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-7849818098126789112008-06-25T16:38:00.000-07:002008-06-25T16:39:40.501-07:00City-livin and India-cravinBoth of the above would probably go hand-in-hand in NY, or perhaps San Jose. But SF is a strange beast. Its diverse as hell, and then not. Admittedly, the people diversity exists in grand abundance—I have pretty much gone most of my working life here without creating many American or Indian pals. I believe my lunch gang at one point was called the United Nations team, and rightfully so. Most people know ‘Monsoon wedding’ and ‘sarees’, so that’s something I guess. But the blurring of lines between Indian and Pakistani food gets my south Indian tummy quite disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I can eat Shalimar food oh-about-once-in-a-blue-moon and appreciate the value of the tandoori chicken in the essential food chain. But I did miss the occasional dosa or thali joint that served a few of them chaats. I mean, honestly, <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/bombay-ice-creamery-san-francisco">kulfi</a> we have in SF but not delicious chaat?<br /><br />Anyways, my preggo state must’ve trigged some serious desi strings up there. Two restaurants open this weekend [oooh and Netflix seems to be expanding its desi selection. Found out that <a href="http://www.netflix.com/Movie/Aamir/70100644?trkid=222336&lnkctr=srchrd-sr&strkid=53609266_0_0">Aamir</a> is actually releasing in its unpirated glory on july 1st]. <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/amber-india-san-francisco-2">Amber India</a>, long known for its afternoon buffets of repetitive but sumptuous dishes in unlimited burp-friendly glory opens in its swanky Market st. location this week. Don’t be fooled by the reviews—this resto kicks some major ass when it comes to the food and buffet. Atleast in its other locations.<br /><a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/udupi-palace-san-francisco">Udupi Palace</a>, lord be praised, opened its shiny temple doors this week as well. I also wonder if yelp should list ‘indian’ as a separate category—putting it in Indian/Pakistani food cat might have patrons expecting their tandoori chicken and shami kababs.<br /><br />I state that life is getting better for the ‘foodwise indiverse’ desi in San Francisco, namely self. Thanks for your Middle-eastern fare and the Chinese dim-sums, I promise to try that on weekends and Friday nights but for my mid-week fix may I please have that bowl of bisibela and bagala baths?<br /><br />Planning an evening of bisibela baths and kulfi on Mission<br />MeUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-13128133912941963932008-06-25T16:37:00.000-07:002008-06-25T16:38:55.293-07:00140 pounds and feeling itUpdates nearing end of week 30!<br /><ul><li>I officially waddle. Even in heels, and that, my friend, is no mean achievement. I envision see-saws being designed for the first time when the inventor observes a preggo woman walking in her 7th month. ‘Why, that should be a fun sport for kids’ the inventor thinks and hey presto, out comes the see-saw device which wasn’t technically patented [of course, the US wants to call it ‘teeter totter’ which is likely a better word to describe self’s gait].<br />In anycase, my underweight self rapidly put on the pounds in the last few months rounding it off to a perfect 140 pounds today. Yep, I count self in pounds now. That way it seems more impressive to freak over going from 138 to 140 than from 62.7 to 63.6 kilos. The tummy of course, can be moody these days, has a mind of its own and all that. I believe I sit in a chair and then my tummy sits. </li></ul><p> </p><ul><li>The relief is immense in how preggo books refer to said ‘fetus’. There was a phase of tiny fruits and vegetables that had my diet severely restricted—honestly, how could you eat strawberries covered in chocolate if you have only read that your ‘fetus’ is the size of a ripe strawberry [after having graduated from raspberries no less]. Tadpoles and shrimps, I was quite disassociated from—I could living without eating either. More recently descriptions went beyond the food chain into grocery supplies—‘at week x, your fetus is the size of a bag of sugar’, the book happily stated. Well, I am happy to note that after spending a week existing in the size of a bag of flour, the fetus has finally transitioned to the size of a laptop screen [honestly, have they SEEN the sizes of laptop screens all over? PDAs are called laptops these days. Wouldn’t I alarm self by wondering how the growth curve is headed downwards?]. Never wished there were numbers more than when I read these weekly bulletins. </li></ul><p> </p><ul><li>Mr.Sandman has no GPS system—sleep is officially lost. After having successfully pinched the dude awake [and then pretended that I didn’t do it] about 5 times the first night, I was desperate for new entertainment. Chatting on laptop didn’t seem fun [although a certain pal got some help on how to figure taking a stroller on Kingfisher airlines. <a href="http://desimomzclub.blogspot.com/2007/05/why-you-should-try-kingfisher.html">This</a> site provided the answer, she is on her way to Delhi now].</li></ul><p> </p><ul><li>I am a control freak. There is actual proof of this. Number of spreadsheets in existence:<br />-Existing daycare list<br />-pediatrician recommendations from GGMG<br />-GGMG’s daycare list<br />-Baby care stuff to be bought<br />-Baby-shower invite list<br />-Home projects TBD<br />All I need is my GAP kids card and my SUV. </li></ul><p>Zealously planning me-time with the help of Google calendar,</p><p>Me.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-46683914248116516602008-06-13T15:53:00.000-07:002008-06-13T15:56:02.410-07:00Preggo Chronicles--"Its all about being equal"Joining the mom’s groups online was more of a social experiment during my third trimester [not in manner of 'how clueless am I' but more along the lines of 'what are these groups all about?']. We managed to answer both questions though. To be fair, these groups have been helpful in making me move my butt on daycare research and such. But it also piqued my curiosity on SAHMs, WFH and FTW moms. [go figure, am not gonna provide a glossary. as yet]. The equality dynamics among newbie parents is fascinating--perception, reality and what exactly is equal and what isnt. I honestly feel that as long as there are no continuous complaints OR regrets, any model that works is good enough. There isnt really a 'right' approach [daycare versus nanny versus at-home care--they are all doable and fine depending on financial, attitudinal and environmental conditions]<br /><br />In anycase, <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/15/magazine/15parenting-t.html">this </a>article on NYTimes was interesting enough to make me wade through 10 pages enough to send a hurried 'you MUST read this' message to the spousal unit. Never ye mind that my 'reading material' for classes didn’t get this kinda interest, but i liked the takeaways from the article. or atleast mine. namely a) standards of home maintanance can differ widely and cause friction. b) recaliberating hours spent on tasks isnt as OCDish as it seems. and c)you can live by spreadsheets. allright, the third is my own discovery. but it fits in nicely.<br /><br />S saunters in after a biz dinner in a suspiciously named restaurant in palo alto ['illusions'? Honestly? Did David Copperfield launch it?]. Plopping on the couch next to me, he glances at my laptop monitor [secretly hoping I made my next move at scrabble am sure].<br />Self: "did you get that mail with the nytimes article?"<br />Him: "when did you send it?"<br />Why that matters, I never did understand. Though in our 7 years together, I will come to understand that asking such a pointless question is his way of just asking for time while the slow churn of the search algorithm starts off in his head.<br /><br />me: "its damn interesting" and I proceed to sell the article to the reading-averse spouse. This is tricky business, given that a) I insisted he not boot up his own laptop and (b) its late at night. I spout words like 'perfectly logical' and 'even-handed' and 'objective' till he moves a lazy eyeball towards said article.<br />him: "how long is it?"<br />"10 pages" I confess. But I quickly point out that I can read over the improtant parts so he doesn’t have to read it.<br /><br />I do a marathon job of reading the article, skipping over the mushy 'how the couple met' sections with the yadda yaddas. "So!" I say. S seems to kinda like the point on different standards of home maintainance--probably hoping to point out that I was too finickly for his scavenging ways of wardrobe management.<br />so looks like the best way is to negotiate beforehand', I say. "negowwsheeate?" S smirks. "I think the best way is for you not to get soo finicky about tidying up" he says lazily. "but you are just appalling with your clothes' I say, already resenting his implication that my high standards will cause a hypothetical conflict in a hypothetical scenario in a few months from now when our baby shall actually be born. Yeah, i think ahead.<br />"well not so with the kitchen..i make sure its tidy after I cook everytime ..even before eating the meal I make" S says. I gotta agree, I am terrible in the kitchen. I chop, puree, make a mess of the counter, eat the food, blanch, make him salvage it and the rue the mess i made in the kitchen. While he chops everything into perfect pieces and takes out the trash and loads the dishwasher even before he switches off the stove. I call mine the 'chaos theory'. He calls it cluelessness. whatever.<br />"well maybe the trick is to divvy it up. You take care of the kitchen and I take care of tidying up" I say. It’s a long shot, I know. But he seems to like it. "yeah that makes sense". I probably got away with it for now.<br />I don’t know if that passes the 'equality' test--I am probably gonna be hopping around the kitchen about his oil usage and such in anycase. And hez probably gonna be mad I still havent gotten his 'pile philosophy'. But hey, we are making progress. The delivery-folllowed-by-getting-back-to-work-and-school looms ahead, and anything to make me feel more prepared is worth it.<br /><br />pondering deeply while tidying up the living room,<br />me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-72901530746304018892008-06-07T09:10:00.000-07:002008-06-07T09:13:03.160-07:00testin blogger on iPhoneUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-12299472956412107192008-04-13T21:55:00.000-07:002008-04-13T22:20:05.361-07:00BabyCenter or UrbanMoms?Getting the hang of preggo state in USA can be strange [I, of course, dont speak like I know what its like in India..I am guessing, less dramatic??]. Some discoveries so far in the past 5 months:<br /><br />1) The Internet is a scary place.<br /><br />Yep, i know. My asparagus, rice and soup comes from the Internet. Am eternally grateful and all [cleaning up my inbox to compensate for the insult]. But honestly, when am prattling on about 'consumer created content' online, and 'the voice of of the Netizens', I purely talk of rotten tomatoes and yelp. But medical madness, and the aha! moment strikes. Its much more likely scary stories get shared more than joyous ones. Which is fine if some moron found 25 rats in his room coz he assumed 'Stardust' was name of hotel with stars, not that of a seedy motel. But whoa! if you manage to walk the maze and find that your twitching toe condition during pregnancy could be because some person in Texas had the <em>exact </em>same condition only to discover a missing eyelash on the ultrasound, woe to the spouse. [doh.not me, my job is just to freak out and share the nauseating nervousness].<br /><br />2) You need to figure out Website loyalties.<br /><br />BabyCenter or Urban moms? Depends. yep, they all got discussion boards ["see my baby bumppp!!! DH is sooo sweet! I am sooo teary-eyed!!"]. But one has to have one's loyalties set straight early on. If you invest time in creating a login [Am SFDesigal, for all ye mom site hounders] and readin the umpteen discussion boards that go 'i am sooo upset..I just discovered i HATE pickles and icecream! sniff', you better pick one. I am a silent observer in both websites. And might give into urban moms if the damn site will add what is commonly known as C-O-N-T-E-N-T. Till then, am sticking to a hackneyed version of the classic 'Great Expectations' restructured for the expectant parents. Its fun, honestly. I can't picture Mrs.Havisham going 'your baby is the size of an avocado', of course. But its fun to imagine her doing so!<br /><br /><br />3) Ultrasounds or Doppler sounds dont <em>have</em> to make you cry.<br /><br />Well, unless the doc is being pesky and takes a hellalotta time and you are umm, hungry. I broke my mom's arm during the first ultrasound. And giggled at the Doppler sound coz it sounded like kiddo was going 'bhook bhook bhook' [as in 'hunger hunger hunger' in Hindi]. I was hungry too, so there for instant bonding!<br /><br />4) Pregnancy Retail industry oughta make Graduation, Wedding and other 'life event' industries beg on its knees. Literally.<br /><br />It wins. Hands down. If I had to mark the revenues earned in the pregnancy/new baby industry against any other of those life event ones, it blows away the mind. I am not even talking 'do you want your ultrasound photo on a locket' knick-knacks. Yep, that means YOU babies-r-us! and YOU Motherhood Maternity!! Items purchased so far:<br /><br />Preggo outfits [coz nothing fits. Am sooo jealous of preggo women in India waltzing around in Salwar Kameezes. Phruu]<br />Two pregnancy magazines. [here is an odd thing--these magazines KNOW the lifetime of their membership is 10 months at the most. Its like a magazine for the High School senior. Or, magazine for those with casts on legs. you get my point? wherez the REPEAT VALUE???]<br /><br />and that was only in the first two months. Nothing ever since though.<br /><br />5) Babies are supposedly expensive.<br /><br />Or so am told by popular websites' baby expenses calculator. You going back to work and daycaring the kid? Add on a few more thousands. I figure, what the hell. If my outflow is more than 500+ every month after kiddo arrives, i might as well, you know, practice from now on right? [opening up tabs of amazon and gap.com in rapid successsion]<br /><br /><br />Breaking the expenses news gently to spouse,<br />Peps.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-50453953262070346032008-04-13T21:36:00.000-07:002008-04-13T21:54:43.284-07:00Back..what's new?Hmm..back after more than a year to blogging..yowza!! Let's see now, what changed since the last time I blogged [pulling out fingers to count]<br />1) Moved to San Francisco, can now officially wince when someone says 'Frisco' [you see anything about SF on <a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&rls=com.microsoft%3Aen-US&q=frisco">this </a>page? yep. thats the point]<br />2) Moved jobs. Work a block from abovesaid place in the city. Yep, yep luckyass commute n all. Yep, I can peek to see if the boss goes in before I do. Nope, I dont nap at home during lunchbreak. Jeez, isnt that what conference rooms are for?<br />3) Jan 1st 2008 shocker #1. Got an iPhone.<br />4) Jan 1st 2008 shocker #2. Got a 'yes' on a preggo test.<br />5) Discovery #1 of the year: Both have solid potential to eat up my time.<br /><br />There, thats the status update [folding up 5 fingers now to type furiously back].<br /><br />So whats the perpetual misfit sposed to blog about now? plennty of fodder for thought..pleeennttyyyy. [stacking up pregnancy magazines neatly onto one side and glancing woefully at a foggy SF evening in April when the day had 78 degree heat wave. Bah!]<br /><br />Figuring out whats the electronic equivalent of chewing tip of pencil,<br />Peppy.<br />Update: Wait!! Been more than TWO years..wtf!! what was I doing not blogging for two years? getting a life or smtg?? j/k!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1139266763653677342006-02-06T14:59:00.000-08:002006-02-06T14:59:23.693-08:00India Travel Thought<br/>India Travel Thoughts<br/><br/>Top 5 reasons one should drag family in its entirety for vacation destinations instead of lounge around at home when on India trip:<br/><br/><ol><li>Vacation in India is never really that. You could be home all the time and still come back thankful to be back, and, well, exhausted. Add to that sitting around while the world goes on as usual for rest of the junta, brother off to work, mom visiting ill friend [who you don’t know] and back, dad’s attempts to hold on to government banks while planning his trip around which days they ARE open. Better to make everyone have a vacation no?</li><br/><li>Most parents don’t take trips unless someone is a) marrying or b) delivered a kid or c) has bought a home. And hey, most parents would love to see the sights they hear of only from their friends or broad-minded neighbors. Granted there will be withdrawal symptoms from mailman fights, but mentions of renewed energy and promises of curd rice availability everywhere should do the trick</li><br/><li>Lets admit it, there is NOTHING one can take from here that they wont get a better form of, in India. Sponsor parents’ trip instead—they will probably even learn to make the trip sound cooler than a “oh this? My daughter got it from the U.S”</li><br/><li>You will never come back from India plumper this way—granted there will be atleast one bout of stomach issues if you plan to travel 60% of the time in India, within India. But hey, stomach issues=cant eat. Cant eat=cant even see food. Cant even see food=lassi and lemon juice diet for two days. Which equates to slender you and well-rested tummy. It adds up ya know!</li><br/><li>Moms can never make all that they want to. It’s a fact of life. But this way, they get the break they so deserve from kitchen duties. And hey, nobody says “so does your daughter cook well?” and expect a demo. Wheee!!</li></ol><br/><br/>Speaking of India trips, my next one will be aimed at <a href="http://autofeed.msn.co.in/pandorav3/output/Travel/86cd9c04-b722-497b-89c5-30853b08170e.aspx">Corbett National Park.</a> I would personally prefer to go to good ole Mudumalai [spent a number of childhood summers there] but am intrigued by the tourism developments within India. They, frankly, blew my mind away. Recent Rajasthan trip was solid proof—Fantastic highways and reliance sponsored restrooms on the highways made for one helluva comfortable trip. Kerala, no less [yeah yeah, I hear your ‘commercialization!!” screams. But face it, if done well, tourism industry DOES have a lot to offer to the state in general]<br/><br/>Airports excepted—Man, for all the fantastic journeys I had on this trip [I did flights, auto and trains during the trip] the airport at Mumbai on the way out was fantastically, unbelievably horrible. As it is, I HATE the Mumbai international airport. One just needs to see how the Jet terminal in the domestic terminal is, to realize how much worse the international airport is [The Jet terminal is very much like the SFO airport actually]. After toiling hours to stand in line and get baggage checked in, my visit to the restroom was the last straw. Sleeping on the floors, near the restroom entrance AND near the washbasin, were the cleaning ladies. Self literally had to ask them to wake up/move to inch my way to the washbasin. To that end, am hoping the <a href="http://ia.rediff.com/money/2006/feb/07airport.htm">airport revamp</a> does some good, inspite of all the controversies.<br/><br/><br/>Belated India travelogue,<br/>Peps<br/>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1138839960628516062006-02-01T16:25:00.000-08:002006-02-01T16:26:00.640-08:00The Stories Hallmark Will Never KnowNope. Archies and Hallmark didnt pay me for this [heh heh]. Well, I figured, its February,season to mourn St.Valentine’s death [as well as P.G.Wodehouse’s death on the same day]..might as well do that by writing [in PGW’s memory] about luv [no no, not ram’s son..LOVE as in the stuff St.Valentine apparently pushed to the world]<br /><br />So here is the first of a few stories for the season—Call it what you will..<br /><br />Theirs wasnt even a real love story to begin with. Hell, they didnt even have anything much in common. His parents tragically died when he was four. Her dad remarried and produced a home full of kids [14 at last count]. He was adopted by a kind relative who raised him as his own. Her dad probably doesnt even remember her name. He was handsome as hell, they said. She was ordinary-looking, they whispered [“Tough to find a groom for her” the father boomed the few times he was in same room as her].They met each other the traditional way, they married the traditional way. And they promptly had children, i guess, the traditional way [heh].<br /><br />In such relationships, i suppose, love is too strong a word. It implies, rightly or not, fanciful delights, escapades and romantic adventures that didnt exist in their lives. Fondness? yep. Absolutely. Laughter? you bet. He made her laugh, his silly forgetful ways..his balding head [the time a crow pecked his head thinking it was shiny plate]. She was a regular little trooper–climbing trees to make that mango pickle. She was a slight, tiny person–“so thin” he said “that she floated down from the terrace when she tripped” [it actually happened]. He was well-read, articulate, a man of impressive words [he was a journo after all]. She was creative and neighbors said she sang like a nightingale. They grew old together, fighting, bickering, laughing and worrying together. She constantly chided him for not taking enough care of self, he did the same to her.<br /><br />One perhaps doesnt really know when old-age creeps up [some say its when you have grandkids, but when you gotta run behind errant grandsons, one would doubt that]..but creep up it did. She fell ill often,troubled by heart conditions and what-nots..shrinking like a dried-up leaf…He was always there, never complaining. He didnt believe in God much, prefering simple ideologies and morals to be his only guide. So he didnt pray when she was in hospitals, he read little stories in newspapers and regaled her with gossip. “They are so much in love!” sighed the nurses. The body gave in one day, and she died peacefully in her sleep one night. He dabbed his eyes, expecting this eventuality. She wanted the ceremonies of the religion, he obliged her last wish. “14 days” said the priest–“a ceremony for each day, for 14 days”. He agreed. His children made plans to move him out of his home, to theirs. He didnt complain. “What do i do without her?” he said sadly, as he moved his things into the truck. The night of the 14th day, he passed away. He wasnt ill, overly old or ailed of anything. He simply didnt wish to live without her anymore. But 14 days of rites she wanted, and he gave her that. Asking only that he join her on the 15th. And he did. Love you say? I dont know. Now it seems too tame a word for them. Smiling<br /><br />But their is probably the sweetest story I’ve ever heard–or seen. Grandpa and grandma were no Romeo and Juliet,and they probably never said the word ‘love’ all through their lives. But their story probably is the best proof that it doesnt always have to be LOVE that fulfills one.<br /><br />With Fond thoughts,<br />pepsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1137649534417687522006-01-18T21:45:00.000-08:002006-01-18T21:45:34.430-08:00Do Ree MiDo Ree Me?<br /><br />Its easy actually..Ignorance that is. One would think its difficult, like unlearning something or accidentally learning a lot. No siree. Look at me, I say! Living in a town, then a city, then a metro, progressively so, its only easy to live in a bubble and not realize 'it' exists in reality. Nobody ever talks about it, really. No wait! I did come across it a couple of times, VERRY hush hush. Someone's someone's someone was gonna get married, and the groom's parents wanted the entire home furnished. They didnt really use the D word. It was already illegal by the time i could talk. Its got a more subtle, implicit <br />term to it. Expectation. "Its just an expectation from the groom's side" they said.<br /><br /><br />Every other time I've come across the D word in exactly two places--family dramas of the 80s [the kiran kumar/visu/aruna irani kinds with bad mother in law and meek son and such] and in newspapers.Regularly so. Family tea-time was usually reserved for climax of such movies.Yep, thats the part where kerosene soaked daughter-in-law is about to be set alight, and her good brother-in-law is delivering memorized bhashan to wicked mother-in-law. For what it was worth, those movies had a social message atleast. And in my heart of hearts, i believed it was like slavery or smtg. Sure, there are movies about it, only to show how wicked it was. Of course it doesnt exist anymore, its illegal for gods sake.<br /><br />Then comes the time when i am reading newspapers like its going out of style. Headlines, bylines, reporter-names..weather reports, everything was gobbled down [even obituary columns, though that was coz grandpa wanted to update his address book]. Dowry cases were reported there of course. "Kitchen deaths" of brides. There was always a suspect, so it kinda became like murder, you know? you read murder reports, someone is always captured or guilty, its illegal as hell and hey, of course tehre is a 2% chance anyone in your family or friends circle who do it. Makes sense right? Apparently nope. Coz you run along in life, hop skip and jumping into the next birthday, growing older, none the wiser, thinking education is the solution to all things idiotic. AIDS, female infanticide, etc--education works right? Well, wrong apparently.<br /><br /><br />Coz hey, it still exists. And guess what? among the educated fools, no less. Price tags on sons, price tags on their education, price tags on MNC status and price tags on payslips. And no, lets not stop there. For every guy who demands dowry, there is a bride's family willing to pay up. Though decidedly, a simple lesson on India's social structure should indicate where the power lies. And while i am only too happy to talk of exceptional instances where there is no Dowry, implicit, explicit or otherwise, it still doesnt remove the fact that the "groom's family expects the apartment to be furnished" or the "wedding to be funded". Which is the point where your whole belief system in education comes to a grinding halt. And rightly so. Why? <br /><br />coz it points out exactly where education fits in the system. Its a means to an end, given the importance for the ends, which in most cases, is a degree, a job, and a career. Its not presumed, or assumed, to make a person see the world better. Or understand the difference between logic and fallacy. Or used education as a tool to guide a person to what is simply sensible, practical, broad-minded thinking. Its a bunch of math tables, and calculus, and engineering courses. and if THAT is education, and THAT only--i cant find it in me to laugh at those who are taught 'holistically'. I couldnt laugh senselessly at those who are taught sociology, painting, social-services, imagination-classes, moral science and not just math, science and geography. Education needs to be wholesome to be complete in any sense. And if education fails to instill in people the values of equality, the respect for human beings and to question authority and traditions. Then it hasnt done its job. So the next time an engineer tells me that "our education system breeds extremely intelligent people" i would certainly like to ask for the definition of that intelligence. And if in any way, the encapsulates the word 'sensible person'. I doubt it always does.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1137025083789140012006-01-11T16:15:00.000-08:002006-01-11T16:18:03.806-08:00The Musical DilettanteWell, thats one use to 'word of the day' emails. Hmm maybe self should blog a blog everyday based on the 'word of the day' in my inbox that day huh? Well, the point is, its a music review blog [hey HOLD IT RIGHT THERE..did i permit you to leave..did i??]. Admittedly [calmly composing self after hysterical outburst] self hasnt established any credentials to write one. I know I know, Jack of all blogs and master of, hey waittaminute. I dont particularly like the phrase "Jack of all trades". Why? well coz (a) umm..i can claim its coz its a guy's name..but the female version of it, if i were to insist, ends up being jackess [oh well you get the hint] and mistress [not very complimentary]..well i just think its mean to all Jacks..and (b) its made to sound like its a bad thing..which its not. Kinda like the Jack who plays all the time, hey, HEZ getting by you know?<br />Aaanyways, self has proposed to write albums i come across recently: first up is predictably M.I.A [Arular]..so lemme yoodle on..<br /><br /><br /><br />M.I.A--didnt wanna go into the history of the singer et al, but methinks one HAS to, to explain it. Allright a one-sentencer on the artist [if you know me, sentences can take years [figuratively and literally]]<br /><br />"So Mathangi [Maya] Arulpragasam is dotter of tamil tiger freedom fighter [try saying it over and over again. I did, for 3 minutes..tamil tiger freedom fighter]and lived in srilanka before running to tamilnadu when riots broke out, then to london- Major culture shock or wotever i guess, the official statement is that she used music to express herself"<br /><br />The tamil tiger-chennai-london connection is important coz her music reveals a fairly strong political statement, U.K undergroup rap and what i would frankly call 'dappanguthu' of chennai streets [one of my favorite music genres--ARR could never replicate it exactly, but illayaraja did a great job of it methinks]. Never a fan of anything gansta rappish, this was a great one to introduce me to it, coz<br /><br />a) the tribality of the scores- while to an unindian ear, it might sound exotic african [well some reviewer called it east bengalish indian but hey, whoz me to criticize]<br /><br />b) the TAMIL LYRICS!! who would've known there would be tamil in it..rocked my senses out [once i got used to her accent that is]. <br /><br />c) the blasting rhythm of the music--once you get into the mould, one cant help but move and groove and all that jazz, albeit in complicated tribal indian manner.<br /><br />Mind you, the music takes some getting used to --the newer beats, the undecipherable lyrics [initially atleast]and the sheer noisiness of it at certain times. Maya's vocals are husky, deep and dark--if that were possible in a voice. its not exactly kid-time lyrics, but its got enough spunk to be a club-grooving album or a gals nite album. You pick.<br /><br />Check out the story on the <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/news/Music/Earning-her-stripes/2005/04/21/1114028489519.html">artiste</a>:<br /><br />Here <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0007KIFLO/qid=1137024315/sr=8-1/ref=pd_bbs_1/103-6729953-5589466?n=507846&s=music&v=glance">is amazon </a>with her CD<br /><br />And hey, herez an idea. Below are albums, all of which I've either listened to recently or plan to. Let me know which one I should listen/write on next, and i promise to [hey comeon..i need SOME pressure to blog]. I promise i know nothing of music, so couldnt possibly have a bias/preference.<br /><br />Anoushka Shankar's Rise<br />Asha Bhonsle The Kronos Quartet <br />[both of the above are nominated for Grammys]<br />Bluffmaster<br />Rang De Basanti<br />Coldplay--A rush of blood to the headUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1136344521544012962006-01-03T19:14:00.000-08:002006-01-03T19:48:48.633-08:00TV Killed The Radio StarTime: 6:45 PM<br />Worried about dinner? Nope<br />Why not? Well, i got leftover eggplant cutlets, can put together a matki salad in the time it takes to say 'oh my' [well about 1000 times] and got enough strawberries that threaten to decay if i didnt make em into a milkshake. So nope, am good.<br />So got time to kill huh? Absolutely.<br /><br />So whats on your mind? Radio<br /><br />What else? TV<br /><br />Allright allright, will stop. The point is, TV killed the radio star. [aw sheesh..I cant come up with something original? well, i said TV, not 'video'] Well, I would argue that video didnt kill the radio, but killed the movie industry instead [you know..video piracy and suchlike..but thats for another 3 hour dinner over burnt food and wimpy salad]. I mean, i get it..the optimism over multiplexes and such in India..hoo haa all over..But piracy is still out there, and my mom refuses to shell out 400 rs when the singhji at shop around the corner can give the same movie, on the same day, with no extra petrol spent. The eyebrow-raisers at my paranoid theory [which, for now, is just one person who shared that godawful meal described above] will appeal to the movie-maniacal nature of the 'masses' as normal people are classified these days, and the enormous spending capacity, and the sheer strength of the rural population that will go repeatedly to the theatres to make 'no entry' a superhit. Oh well.<br /><br />Coming back to the TV -radio star connection, i would now like to declare my undying love for the medium of radio. no, no, i aint one of those "oh yeah, radio, its cheap and good" fans..I TRULY believe in it [looking intently into the camera with smokey-eyes makeup as I mouth this after Oprah asks the question 'what does radio mean to you?']. I hung dedicatedly to my pirated walkman that played radio all through my BEST bus-ride days, through my 5 hour train journeys to pune, through my 'play the movie 'aandhi' every saturday morning and it gets stuck at the same point every damn time' ASIAD bus days. I simply loved radio mirchi in bombay--memorizing the signoffs of each RJ and laughing at their jokes while the bus conductor glared at my soiled, torn and taped 5 rupee notes.<br /><br />Radio, simply put, is a fabalous medium. It penetrates deep into the audience, and while it doesnt have the undivided attention that the TV claims [well that aint true anymore, but lets just say the TV is in denial]. Radio doesnt suffer from the multi-channeling syndrome for precisely the same reason--its a background thing. You might be struggling to get the damn atta outta the bag, and when you suddenly drop it all and cover yourself in white flour, you hear an optimistic DING as the host suggests "Try Denny's today..its the place to be"--hell, advertising couldnt get any better than that [well i missed the romantic getaway ads and the spa ads, but hey, ads dont get everyone all the time]. Radio is there, always, like a comforting friend. And trust me, the way i sing those jingles in the car on my one-hour commute, the ad-guys have gotten me nice and clean. I can stand in the aisle of the supermarket singing the washing powder jingle to the last key. TV-fatigue is setting in, radio-guys...the viewers are sick of all the reality shows, godawful ads, pathetic soaps and incessant rambling on the idiot box. News shows are like soaps, soaps arent real at all, and reality shows are starting to create news [notice the cyclic route there?]..ZONE IN, i scream..capture us all, us content-hungry audiences..who want to laugh, cry, dance and sing along, just like they do on those tv ads [whoops]. Which other medium has the power to be a permanent fixture onto the audience you need? [psst--none]..SEIZE the moment, SEIZE the moment of failure of TV and all thats pop-up ads..let the radio turn murderer now..and kill the TV HOST!!! <br /><br />headphones forever, pepsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1135960637613678762005-12-30T08:32:00.000-08:002005-12-30T10:59:40.900-08:00Is it only me?I am no investigative journalist, but when i saw <a href="http://www.ndtv.com/ent/newstory.asp?section=Movies&slug=Black+in+Times+movie+list&id=4233">this </a>and <a href="http://www.indianexpress.com/full_story.php?content_id=84926">this</a>, i was kinda thrilled about 'black' however rehashed, being chosen on time's top 10 list. Even <a href="http://us.rediff.com/movies/2005/dec/29black.htm?q=tp&file=.htm">here</a>! However, a visit to the <a href="http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1142135,00.html">time magazine site</a> revealed, well, nothing. No black, nothing! what gives?? Am i missing something here? Is there a different list online and a different list for the print version?<br /><br />Update: looks like the <a href="http://www.time.com/time/asia/news/article/0,9754,1143731,00.html">Time Asia list</a> is different, still trying to figure why, coz there are a lot of overlaps anyway..anycase, mystery solved looks like.<br /><br />Update #2: Time magazine's reponse to my question below<br /><br /><br />*** city ***<br />San Francisco, CA<br />Hi,<br /><br />I was wondering why your top films list here is different from the<br />one on Times Asia. And assuming that Times Asia is for asian movies<br />as well, why the asian movies here [2046 and Kung-Fu hustle] were<br />DROPPED to accomodate black and the thai movie on the asia list.<br /><br /><br />**response**<br />Hi,<br /><br />Since the international editions of TIME are produced for different<br />audiences, they are neither identical to the U.S. edition nor to each<br />other. The editors at each edition are somewhat autonomous and make<br />different decisions about what content to publish.<br /><br />Thank you for your interest, and all best wishes in the new year.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br /><br />Well, it still doesnt make sense to me. Its the same reviewer/columnist with two different lists for two different editions..Time is yet to respond to second query.<br /><br /><br />Update #3:<br /><br />My Mail:<br />Thanks for the response. It still doesnt make sense, its the SAME<br />>columnist who is rating the movies, how can he have two different<br />>list for two different editions? isnt it his personal opinion?<br />><br />>I am talking of the link here<br />>ht<br />>tp://www.time.com/time/asia/news/article/0,9754,1143731,00.html<br />>and here<br />>http://<br />>www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1142135,00.html<br /><br />Time’s response:<br /><br />Actually it does make sense. While “Citizen Dog” had wide release in<br />Thailand, how many people in the U.S. have had a chance, or will have<br />a chance, to see it? Our lists are just not that universal.<br /><br />Besides, what a waste of time it would have been for you to look at<br />both websites and see the same list. Eye-wink<br /><br />ROTFLUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1135730980987461552005-12-27T16:49:00.000-08:002005-12-30T08:47:17.886-08:00My India trip<a href="http://www.dudseascrawls.com/album/19/india+trip">Pictures and commentary of my recent india trip</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1135354433997697012005-12-23T08:13:00.000-08:002005-12-23T08:13:54.010-08:00I confess I am a...listener of Christmas Carols..CORNY to be precise [Christmas on Rhyming Notes, YES!!]. First my defense:<br /><br />1) NO, its not some colonial hangover. Well, it possibly is, but i havent really heard too many Jain songs for Mahavir Jayanthi, so i will stick to the most popular [Ganesh mandal rehashes of popular bollywood movies to ganeshish proportions notwithstanding]<br /><br />2) Yes, i studied in a convent school. I was that kid who solemnly stacked the hymns book in her schoolbag everyday, and even yelped joyously when the nuns chose my favorite one to sing in the morning prayers.<br /><br />3) And no, i dont always like christmas carols, especially when the retailers give the step-sisterly treatment to thanksgiving and insensitively play christmas songs during TG.<br /><br />I, simply put, enjoy the christmas carols. I do have my radio switched to the station that plays the most of it. Some would say its my childhood denial syndrome kicking in, that when as the only ‘convent-bred’ kid, i could get away with singing “sound of music” and still be patted on head for singing like those choir-girls for xmas. To be fair, Xmas carols are not too hard on the ears, and i truly feel there is a magic to it. So while the rest of the country decides to call it a celebration of festiveness or some such lame stuff, I will tune my music station to xmas carols and light a fire in the fireplace of our californian rented home [aw you chicago-folk…dont balk!] and pretend i am in an enid-blyton novel. Which probably makes it a literary-hangover more than a colonial-hangover.<br /><br />Coz i know, atleast where i come from, retailers will bravely put out christmas logos and share pedas under the christmas trees with customers. And know all is well in the “Merry christmas” land.<br /><br />Delirious from overdose of office-gifts for the festive season,<br />me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1129579415493128182005-10-17T13:03:00.000-07:002005-10-17T13:03:35.500-07:00the long thought on goodnightHistory was never my strong subject at school. And movie reviewing isnt my strongest of skills. So combine american history with american movies, and self is at as lost as macalay culkin in home alone II. Great, now i’ve even raised expecations with that analogy.<br /><br />My point is this, movies on historical events pass me by fairly unimpactfully. Five years back, at a discussion of ‘all the president’s men’ my awe at the discussion of the movie started and ended with the knowledge that watergate was the name of a building, giving rise to the ‘watergate scandal’.Who knew? I was content in letting that fact be the only takeaway from the discussion. In anycase, years of doing the ‘readers dont digest’ rounds of filmfare magazine, and the ability to correctly predict endings of bollywood fillums brought in me a naive thought that self might be a movie critic. You know, bash a few, laud a few, give it a rating bordenline enough to make you an expert be it a flop or a hit.<br /><br />But the point is, it sometimes IS greatly satisfying to view a movie on american history and come away with the feeling of having watched a classy film, very well-timed and beautifully handled, while still being ignorant on the historical significance and the importance of the historical characters in it. Its like when you catch a surprisingly great flick on the arabian horses and their tough situation. Granted you know nothing about the fodder scam that arabia is under now, but if hte movie is good enough, you would have that vague ‘i watched smtg satisfying’ feeling. You dont need much skill for that kinda feeling, and thats exactly what i felt this weekend. Self came away with shining eyes and an inspired soul, but could only vaguely recall the name of characters and the senator in the movie, the movie that was ‘goodnight, and goodluck’. If an inspired soul is what George clooney aimed for, you got it dude. If driving home the idealogies of the main character was, too bad. but for that, i blame myself.<br /><br />Goodnight, and goodluck is the movie of CBS reported Edward Murrow, who exposed and consequently brings down senator McCarthy. I know, very “all the president’s men”ish..but the investigation of the story is NOT the highlight. What is?<br /><br />a) Camera work—kudos to the team for deciding to shoot it all in black and white. The smoke-filled CBs newsroom and the cigarette dangling from tip of finger is absolutely enhanced in a B&W mode. The crisp, direct tone of the movie is supplemented very well with the non-distracting and effective use of black and white. Especially since the senator’s courtroom and hearing scenes are the original recordings, it blends splendidly<br /><br />b) editing–tautness is the tyrannical theme of the movie, and i mean that in a good sense. Tautness, i feel, is easier to portray if the movie is a series of events unfolding. [if the reporters were to, lets say, run around collecting clues]. When the movie is of a slightly preachy, introspective nature, tautness can possibly be impossible to achieve. Little things add to the tautness, Murrow’s direct launch into his report, bypassing the ‘good morning america’ cliche, delivers the sense of urgency and the high tension in the newsroom everytime.<br /><br />c) The characters–David Straitharin, as murrow in unbelievable. He looks like someoone who shot right out of 1950’s and probably will go right back. He is introspective, passionate, principled, cynical and sarcastic in the few lines he delivers off-the-camera. His speech at the felicitation ceremony, in the beginning and end of the movie, are in one-word, inspiring. When he says “i dont mean to say dont dedicate the tv for entertainment..all i ask is dedicate one day a week for a report on education reforms” you can sense the audience nod in understanding [well i went to a theatre of fairly old patrons]. When he does little bits of shows on fashion and housewives to have a steady income, he doesnt draw pity, just a smile.<br /><br />The characters of shirley and joe, though slightly irrelevant to the plot, surprisngly work well to move the wheels of the story forward, acting as narrators, they replace the audience within the story. expressing thoughts and feelings that the audience probably feels at that point of the movie. George clooney as fred friendly, the producer of the show that exposes the senator, is controlled and believable.<br /><br />The final message isnt preachy, its merely observational. Its probably easy to see it as “dont pollute the medium of TV with garbage” theme, but methinks the message is more “dont insulate and protect yourselves behind the laughtracks”. And i’ve never been happier abour NPR ever since.<br /><br />inspired to no effect,<br />pepsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1128960332693744482005-10-10T09:04:00.000-07:002005-10-10T09:05:32.700-07:00By the by, am a tambramTambram chronicles, how utterly jejune. Well, to be frank, am motivated to write on the section of the society purely out of ‘eye rolling’ variety of people i come across in the U.S once in awhile, who want to brandish the tambram tag, for reasons entirely unknown to logic.<br /><br />I mean, i expect a reader to be as interested in this as Paris Hilton chronicles, “what did my petdog wear today” kinda stuff. But! even that category has readers dont it. And in anycase, i think its profoundly useful to know about the Tambram idealogy. Its the very foundation of all things ritualistic. Shakespeare once said “all the world’s a stage” [and boy, did THAT one get overused]. Mom preferred to come up with her own inspiring words, “All ideas are recipes” she would proclaim, a stern eye focused on me for obvious reasons. But then, it wasnt always a hint to my cooking skills. To her, everything was a recipe, really. “A bit of newspaper and a dash of coffee and my morning is made” she would declare, at 6 A.M. “A pinch of motivation and a bowl of hardwork” she would insist, when exams were a day away [well motivation had a pretty weak flavor, but whoz be to doubt her recipes?]. Grandpa, when he visited would beam proudly and point to fact that mom was a B.A in English. well, no surprise there methinks. Of her generation, 93.56% were B.A English. The rest chose B.A.math or some such to direct them to the favorite tambram passion of those times, government banks.<br /><br />Well anyway, coming back to the recipe for tambram ideology, we have to dissect the ingredients.<br /><br />Today, we talk of the classic uncle.<br /><br />In a true tambram household [the kinds i know atleast], each person is connected to other in precisely two ways. If not more. Unless they were direct siblings or parents that is. The classic uncle is the one always to point it out. He would walk in, unannounced, take of chappals and place it neatly by the front door [while making it a point to comment on any other eye-catching variety of shoe placed beside it]. He would invariably be the one to say “DID YOU KNOW that i am your uncle as well as your grandfather?” well, he usually isnt lying. At some point my family would’ve realized they needed to look at neighbors and far-off relatives to marry their children off and thus ended a never-ending loop of uncles and aunts who, if the situation demanded, could do a double duty of grandpa or grandma. Uncle is usually pretty harmless though. He could wax eloquent about how rasam should be, but would’ve never prepared it in his life. He would’ve cooked exactly once in his life, typically when wife was getting a delivery or hysterectomy done, but would go on and on about it all his life. He would also be the one to take pride in all things ritualistic and all things that radiates false silly pride. By definition, he would have to disagree with all things new-generationish. Food, clothing, and god-save-the-songs they listen to. Excessive use of english would spark discussions of how the english language benefited from us all [well not tamil you see..but in this case he would suddenly get patriotic for language. In true “dad of the my fat greek wedding” movie, he would claim english benefited immmensely from india].<br /><br />And everytime you accidentally thought english had a wider variety of words to suit your palette, he would start his classic question “did you know you cant say so-and-so sentence in english? why, they dont have words for that type of thing”. Unlike his wife, who couldnt explain why she insisted on certain crazy traditions, he would have a pompous scientific sounding reason for each one. These explanations are delivered using a loud voice, stern eye and a “do you dare to challenge what i believe to be the truth” tone. Like the time i asked why i should wear a bindi and a jasmine garden in my head when all i was doing is wtching TV. Hell hath no fury like an uncle asked. “A BINDI” he would exclaim loudly “is god’s way of protecting women. When rowdy-types see a woman with a bindi, it reminds them of shiva’s third eye. Which is WHY you must wear a bindi all the time”. Aunt would beam at uncle, she wouldnt have had any other answer but a “coz you must”. Uncle would triumphantly shoot a look at mom, one that translates to “this is how you deal with kids these days. see? i taught her didnt i”? statements like “huh” and “what the..?” or “so if i dont keep a bindi a rowdy will catch me” can produce deathlike silence followed by mom’s “you must listen to elders” speech, though we both know shez just making uncle happy.<br /><br />In the next tambram chronicle, we shall explore the smartypants-shloka reciting-Padma Seshadri bred-made for engineering-cousin.<br /><br />Tambram forever,<br />meUnknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1128874013981074602005-10-09T09:06:00.000-07:002005-10-09T09:06:53.990-07:00I got 85 marks what about karthik? The Tambram Cousinwhy the why, its the tambram son.<br /><br />Tambram sons are a species divine. No, really. When they are born, its not usually with a silver spoon but a vertical red line on forehead. Right from the birth, to the time they marry their “she works in the software field, same as him” wives, they possess something that is important to the tambram dictionary, kalai. More importantly “iyengar kalai”. I promise not to use fancy tamil lingo no more, but this is important. Kalai [patters correct me if i am wrong] is basically that oily shine on face that somehow is supposed to distinguish a kid as a tambram. Dont ask me how, tambrams are apparently born with the skill to identify the tambramness in the faces of the srinivasans. “The minute i saw him, i knew he was an iyengar”, many a srinivasans would’ve exclaimed triumphantly. Heck, you are in the middle of iyengarpet dude, who else do you find in the temple streets of mambalam?<br /><br />They are not specially treated over girls, this much i will give them. As girls, the expecatations, i feel, arent too different from community-to-community. Now unless you count those in which eating platefuls of chicken as a sign of manliness, tambram males have this unique pressure on them for a number of things.<br /><br />a) temple-shlokas-noodlethread-sandhyavandhanam kiddo<br /><br />Promptly at the age of seven or so, the kid gets the kinda ceremony that gals can only dream of. The thread ceremony, the ultimate in-your-face proof of iyengarism. While smarter alecs have gotten rid of the cumbersome thread ages ago, the patter boy valiantly holds on to it, missing many a bowling sessions during cricket as the thread slides off to hamper that crucial ball. The tambram kid religiously goes to temples, knows the parts of a temple and can utter the names of each of those amazing prasads they dole out. He can say “their home had chakapradhaman and such” without remotely exercising his tongue. He would have 3-5 handy shlokas handy to belt out at community gatherings. Depending, of course, on mom’s interest during his childhood. “when he was smaller, he used to recite the sandhyavandhanam without a single mistake” his mom would claim. “NOT A SINGLE MISTAKE” dad would nod sagely. Tambram boy will typically not question god, rituals, what nots. He would glare incredulously at neighboring tambram boy who had the guts, the guts of it i say, to try cakes with eggs. Till the age of about 12-14, he would be the shining example for other tambram mothers to point to. Which is about the time he would’ve finally gotten admission into waitlisted padmaseshadri and enters tambram teenagerhood.<br /><br />b) the teenage years<br /><br />english is cool. A.R.Rehman is cool. Hindi isnt, even though he has passed those fancy hindi-proficiency tests out of school.He loses interest in shlokas for a brief period. He is now in a cool-school, where girls are fancy and not oil-plaited. Casting surreptious glances at the ‘northie’ types, he would not typically thinking of being chummy with gals, except to share notes or discuss tuition classes owing to mom’s wild tales “that boy roams with girls and look at his marks in mid-term one” kinda flippant remarks. School becomes the new temple, a place to share chemistry notes, cricket scores and CDS of rolling stones that someone’s brother’s uncle said was cool [tambram boy obviously].He is usually not much into sports, struggling with the stereotype of a tambram boy who is healthy but not sporty except for galli cricket but must be brilliant in math and science. report-cards with hardearned scores in math will earn a reward and a reference to a U.S settled uncle who was brilliant in math as well. The idea of engineering as the doomed future takes shape slowly in head.Not that boy thinks its a doomed future owing to wide array of uncles, cousins, neighbor’s brothers who chose the path to permanent glory. Around this time, tambram boy’s silly remarks of the “I want to become a movie-star or race-car driver” are not treated with mirth like they used to be. Dad regularly challenges these jestful remarks with questions on math-scores, and mom has a handy basket of loser-cases who can never make it in life, they werent engineers. Between this age and 22 or so, life becomes a never ending pursuit towards an engineering degree or worse. [till 22 that is]<br /><br />c) “which project does she work on” wife search<br /><br />There is usually nothing that seperates age 16 from age 25..except tambram kiddo earns a handsome salary now and invests conversations around mobile phones, stocks shares and excessive salary-comparison with peers. The highlight is the impending girl-seeing ceremony that mom will inevitably line up for “first class with distinction MNC project manager so is worth a project manager herself or less [not more though] wife in software” charade. Lineups are fairly easy. Religion, MNC capabilities, homeliness and the pre-referred iyengar kalai. Once mom has done a shortdown of indian-born->hindu->brahmin->iyengar->subsect->star->gothram, our guy has a well categorized list of prospective brides. The factors to decide with dont change so much, so he could effectively use a computer-coded program to arrive at the best selection even without meeting her. But meet her he will, being a broad-minded U.S settled engineer. Mom finally gets a say in his life and she attacks it with gusto. Her extensive temple-network comes handy to cross-refernce the nominees. Dude arrives for a marathon “five gals a day” session, back to back over weekend. He spends the rest of his india holiday meeting the uncles and aunts and grandpas who appreciate electric toothbrush gifts and rib him good-naturedly on impending marriage. smartypants kiddo is certain his marriage will be confirmed in next two days, so wisely does not plan for long indian holiday this time [2 weeks for the wedding later in the year].<br /><br />Wife-seeing ceremony moves swiftly along. Not much detail here, there seriously isnt any. As a broad-minded guy, he wishes to “talk” with gal, coffee-day nearby serves as the safe venue while parents wait the 10 break out in girl’s home, admiring cross-stitch and “best programmmer” awards [ensuring they share “award” stories as well]. End of day is for mom’s verdicts as well as dad’s [she is too modern and the likes] while tambram kid pretends he thinks deeply of all the offerings. He typically doesnt, its as eeny-meeny-minie-mo as the next guy experimenting in starbucks. Visa issues are evaluated and job opportunities are considered for her. The automatic assumption being she will move there [they DID know he was from U.S right?].<br /><br />Guy reconnects to roots of iyengarism before wedding, assuming each ceremony of the 3 day saga is crucial. Fun comes in the form of searching for rings in pots and breaking papads on faces.<br /><br />I guess a large part of this isnt different for non tambrams, but somehow I feel the factor of being an ‘iyengar’puts this unique pressure on these guys, and well, had to vent out some didnt i Sticking out tongue<br /><br />Usual disclaimers apply. And please understand its gentle rigging of the tambram guy, i dont dislike the category. Hell, am married to one of the 26-letter guys arent i?<br /><br />Guilty of back-stabbing,<br />meUnknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1128725504228463982005-10-07T15:47:00.000-07:002005-10-07T15:51:44.236-07:00OHIM Newsiethats oh god its monday to you.<br /><br />sometimes you just gotta write a newsie..i mean, its like those "sometimes, sprinklers just beseechingly call out to a pair of bare feet and squeals of delight". A crazy person has to do what a crazy person has to do, so here goes.<br /><br />First off though, i never figured why news digests make their way into mailboxes or such on a friday. I mean, i see why writers think fridays make sense for these, but see none why readers would find it interesting on the day. The typical worker, typically, is just waiting for friday to get over. i mean, really. Its the day she sets aside time to write copious emails to friends, does 2 hour watercooler trips and thinks the deli downstairs can give lunch an hour late and all she'd say is "thank you very much now can i have a smoothie and take your sweet time on it". Not the day for newsies methinks..now MONDAY, on the other hand qualifies splendidly. sad faces, mails in inbox none that you wanna touch..you need that something that makes you feel productive yet doesnt spell work. So please desist from reading this on friday. I promise to make it pompuos sounding incase boss sneaks up to ya on monday.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/04/realestate/04reals.html">Real Estate getting REAL</a><br /><br />I am thinking there is a reason the word 'real estate' has the word real in it..ever thought about it? i mean, estate makes sense [thought for a long time estates meant either tea or tata vehicles to me]. so after spending a year hyping the atrocious prices of real estate in CA, NY and such, the slowdown begins it seems. Well, am far removed from it all, so am probably unfairly cynical here. But comeon guys, how many heard a price for a home and went "NO WAY!! who PAYS that price?" or secretly checked real-estate listings much as you check daily horoscope? I hear its no different in the likes of bangalore or pune. A decent read for sure, curled up in my warm blanket in the balcony of cosy apartment while the maintainence guy fixes the broken blinds for free. This is as real as MY estate will get.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://money.cnn.com/2005/10/06/Autos/funonwheels/future_of_mini/">Mini Maxi?</a><br /><br />Allright am obsessed. and yeah yeah, i know i dissed the honda element or the toyota scion to death. but hey, loyalties have a price you know..even if to SOME [pointed look at battered half] it may seem like a hybrid of an ambi and a mini. Mixed feelings as yet on this, but hey, have started to get used to the scion on the road..maybe this too.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20051007/od_nm/qaeda_jobs_odds_dc;_ylt=AuYbiRfEapC.KOvnJKKSaZGs0NUE;_ylu=X3oDMTA3NW1oMDRpBHNlYwM3NTc-">My dream job</a><br /><br />If i were to explain the kinda job i'd dream of, it would be smtg in the media, in the spotlight and where i need to be constantly on the move..hell, i didnt mean THIS<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://us.rediff.com/movies/2005/oct/07mein.htm?q=mbp&file=.htm">Who, who and WHO??</a><br /><br />Rajpal yadav was dimunitively scary in 'jungle' for all that movie was worth. He was notable again in other recent flicks, but has remained firmly in the RGV camp. I definitely thought he was good in 'main madhuri dixit' but he was still sidelined against antara. While hez done the anupam kher version of 'i need the money' comedies [when will talented folk stop really?] this is one i had a wary eye on..seems its good, and though rediff reviews arent much [indiafm pans it] i would keep this flick on the pirated-but-hush-dont-tell-anyone-coz-you-benefit neighborhood DVDwala's radar.<br /><br />Cant wait for it to be monday,<br />pepsUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1126199274495627842005-09-08T10:01:00.000-07:002005-09-08T10:07:54.500-07:00Cat Rain NaAnyone noticing how katrina is such a bombastic combination of world calamities? Cynical self wonders, if the tsunami and the likes were news of the year [my year starts in december], Katrina is the khichdi news of the year. You have a hurricane impact, blown to Tsunami proportions..you have stories afloat of relief efforts,covered by media to mumbai flood proportions [albeit way more botched up, but also leads me to think of the media's role in reporting here vs. NOT reporting there] and you have well, evacuations, of Gazaa strip proportions. Now if a looter of the nearest seven-eleven near new orleans downtown posed a terrorist threat, it would be the 'news that can explain the planet earth 2005 in one single event' deal.<br /><br />Please to note, I FEEL for New Orleans people. And I dont wanna do the barbara bush thing, but who thinks this article is worth a consideration? Its a <a href="http://slate.msn.com/?id=2125810&nav=tap1/">case AGAINST rebuilding new orleans</a>, if that were possible. <a href="http://slate.msn.com/id/2125814/?nav=tap3">ANd a note on katrina's impact on price gouging.</a><br /><br /><br /><br />ok, someone tell <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/09/07/opinion/07friedman.html?incamp=article_popular_1">this guy 9/11 is passe</a>. seriously. When he did his 9/11 comparison to Infosys in india, certain someones sniggered in an amused tone [pointed look at self's battered half]. but katrina to 9/11? whats the deal mr.fried man? run out of steam with your "i tell my daughters to buckle up and do homework, kids in india will take up your future jobs otherwise!" melodramatic statements?<br /><br /><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/pages/sports/tennis/index.html">tennis</a><br /><br />This was officially the sweetest match in a long time, and no, self's bias towards shiny bald-plate agassi notwithstanding. till damn channel 105 cut the last half hour to show half of 'law and order SVU'. I dont mind the show, really, its perfect for a dinner of maggi and smoothie and non-laugh track TV time. But whoa! cutting a match to show a half-over show? deja vu of Doordarshan days anyone?<br /><br />soapbox channel<br /><br />and now, for the soapbox channel..and for those who religiously read the "odd news" section of reuters, I give you..<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2005/09/08/nyregion/08baby.html">this</a>.<br /><br />and dont bother asking what psychos live in today's world, the chili incident in california was enough to prove what kinds. and for the entertainment section, we have a pop question:<br /><br />How will upcoming model-became-actress [ahem. MBA for short] katrina kaif be impacted by the katrina?<br /><br />a) her career is predicted to be a disaster<br />b) she will be the hurricane of bollywood<br />c) she will be blamed for all flops in the industry by the superstitious folk [thats *.* in bollywood]Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7563948.post-1123035924918304062005-08-02T19:24:00.000-07:002005-08-02T19:25:24.923-07:00Allright AllrightI know <a href="http://www.blogmaverick.com/entry/1234000200052591/">the guy seems crazy</a>--but hez got an interestin point with<br /><br /> "..<em>Insanity is thinking that piracy is the reason music sales are down and then focusing most of your business on selling music to the exact demographic that has the most time to spend on finding free music and most energy to spend on cracking whatever protections you introduce."</em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0