What words don't say

She completed his sentences and he took his cues when her eye brows moved.

The world murmured they are lovers, but they laughed and said, "we are best friends for life"

The day she was leaving, they hugged and she whispered, "I had always loved you, lot more than a friend"

He squeezed her finger tips and said "I know, your eyes deceived you right from the start!"

Have you seen Pallavi ?

Have you seen Pallavi? The tall, fair, highly charismatic woman you are sure not to miss if you ever pass her by. You would know her if you see her, just look for the little teddy bear tattoo on her right thumb.

I hope she is happy and charming as ever, I hope she has a ton of adventure stories to tell, I hope she has gotten used to the mildly sweet Bangalore Sambar ,I hope she has learnt to say the word “Dosa”  with the correct ‘shsha’ sound just like how a true south Indian would say it, I hope she still enjoys her long bus rides between Pune and Bangalore…I hope she is still alive.

Eight years back, I first saw Pallavi through the corner of the window of the Volvo bus. I was sitting on my assigned aisle seat in one of the middle rows inside the bus. The window seat next to me was empty. Having placed my shoulder baggage comfortably in the overhead racks I had just sat down. Most of the seats in the bus was still empty but were sure to get filled soon. The bus departs Pune close to 6 PM. It will reach Bangalore the following day. I wondered who would be sitting in the window seat next to me. That is when I leaned over to the tinted window glass and peered through the tiny corner of the window where the brown tainted sheet had peeled off and saw Pallavi.

It was evening rush hour. Pune city at this hour is unkind to the travelers with the clouds of dust and debris that refuses to settle. I saw Pallavi wiping the dust from her eye lashes carefully. For a moment I thought she was crying. She was not. She was smiling and talking to the elderly lady next to her waving her hands occasionally to ward off the gush of dust that rises every time a heavy vehicle passes by. Pallavi was in her late twenties…or she may have just crossed over the big 3-0 mark. Her skin was very fair and it had tiny brown freckles above her cheek bones. She had a long pointy nose. Her most striking feature was her eyes; it was a light brown in color. Her hair had mixed strands of black and light brown colors; it was pulled into a loose bun to the back of her head. She was about five feet and seven inches tall. She didn’t look like she overly cared about the fitness fads. She looked comfortable in the few extra pounds she had gained around her waist. She still looked very attractive in her black jeans and leopard printed long sleeved blouse.

The elderly lady who stood next to her looked like and older version of her. She must the mom. The mom was wearing a traditional white salwar kurtha. Both women exuded a certain kind of peacefulness that was soothing to watch.

The bus driver entered the bus by now and he started the engine. This is a clear and loud cue for all travelers standing around the bus to board. I watched the two ladies say good bye to each other with a quick hug and I saw the younger lady enter the bus.  She walked confidently through the narrow passage between the two columns of seats, looking for her seat number labeled on the overhead rack as she passed each row. She stopped right next to me and smiled. I smiled back and turned sideways on my seat so she could pass through to her window seat by my side. She sat down next to me, still clutching to her medium sized hand bag.

“Do you like pets?” she asked me.

I was a bit confused to hear such an unexpected question. We hadn’t yet introduced ourselves!

“Are you scared of pets?” she rephrased her question.

Although the answer to that question depends on what kind of pet she was talking about, I didn’t want a complete stranger to think that I was scared of pets…even if she meant a killer lion or a king cobra.

So I said proudly “No, I love pets, I once owned eight cats!”

“That’s great” she said, “I have two reptiles with me, I hope you won’t freak out”

“Reptiles?” I should have been more specific first.

She slowly opened the flap cover of her hand bag and carefully took out two miny turtles, each the size of her thumb. They both rested comfortably on her one palm

One was pure black. She told his name was Blacky. The other had tiny grey spots on its shell. She said her name was Spotty.

I asked if I could pet them and slowly touched their soft shells…they pulled their head inside their shells and remained like two tiny beads on her palm. She told me that they are imported from Singapore and that they are a special breed of mini turtles. They need a lot of tender loving care and they are very attached to their master! She said they wouldn’t let anyone else feed them for weeks when she was away.

Then she wrapped them in a slightly moist cloth and put them back into her hand bag.

“I am Pallavi” she said

I introduced myself and that’s how I met Pallavi! 

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The bus rolled on…Pallavi and I had numerous stories and interests to share. Pallavi was an etiquette trainer at a Bangalore outsourcing firm, where she taught a new generation of Indians how to sound an act like Americans. She worked and lived in Bangalore and occasionally travelled to Pune to visit her family. She was still new to Bangalore and had all the classic prejudices and preconceived notions that those from the North of Vindhyas held strongly about those from the South. She complained how she often found it hard to get anything other than Idli or Dosa for the morning breakfasts at her canteen and how she still cannot fathom what goes into the various “Koottu curries” served each day. She lamented how even in Bangalore, in spite of it being a metro, ppl still raised an eyebrow and judged who is hanging out with whom? 

Pallavi was distinctively opinionated. Yet she expressed her views with a certain diplomacy and respect that helped her to easily win over the other side. She sounded like the young free spirited vagabond you would find in a Paulo Coelho novel…The bohemian hippie who smoked weed, sang music in groups and saw the world differently. I wondered if she practiced magic too

 Pallavi was the perfect poster child for the independent and liberated modern feminist. She told me stories of some men who had come into her life, I found none of those men nearly as interesting as her and thought that a woman like her should never settle to be in the company of another man who is not worthy of her . One moment she was a big sister to me questioning me about my own relationships, commitment and future ahead…the next moment she was a starry eyed girl who showed off her tiny tattoos. A teddy bear tattoo on the back of her right thumb and a red heart tattoo on her upper right arm. One might find it surprising how much would two strangers share on a bus journey, yet we choose to conveniently undermine how much some of us would hold back from certain others with whom we have traveled a life time!

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The journey continued. We passed through the nauseating traffic of the city and entered the captivating trails of the country side. The long road lay straight ahead, with barren lands on either side decorated in patches with vegetable gardens, small brick houses and vast play areas where young boys played cricket. The orange veil of sun shine with dusty rose borders gave way to a darker shroud with diamond glitters all over. The passengers on the bus were getting restless as their limbs were craving the freedom and space to stretch.

The bus conductor got up from his seat and he switched on the television set.

“Do you want to bet which move they are going to play” Pallavi asked.

“Murder?” I replied.

“Bingo” she said.

It was a movie depicting the steamy romance between a young wife and her lover. The rest of the story line is not important. The music and the movie posters alone have brought in profits for the producers. Ever since the movie’s release this was the only movie that got played in every long bus ride. Some times over and over again until the destination was reached. The antsy passengers settled down for another two hours of captivity.

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A few hours later we approached a small village area crowded with several other tourist buses, taxi cabs and restaurants. Our bus stopped in front of one of the restaurants with a large dining hall big enough to seat a couple of hundred passengers.

All passengers got down from the bus and all of us knew the drill. We had exactly 45 minutes to stretch our tired limbs, to have dinner and for the truly brave-hearted to visit the rest rooms.

Pallavi and I decided to get a table inside the restaurant before it got too crowded. As soon as we sat down the waiter boy came and took our orders. Pallavi ordered Chinese noodles and I ordered sookha roti with mushroom masala. The noodles platter came to the table in just a few minutes while I waited for my more authentic Indian counter-part to arrive. She offered I could share from her plate, I politely refused. While she ate she took out Blacky and Spotty from her bag and fed them tiny turtle food pellets.

Once her plate was cleared Pallavi stepped outside the restaurant to have a smoke.  Before she left she said “Come find me as soon as you are done. I will be waiting for you to go to the restroom”. This was indeed a huge relief for me. As I said before venturing out to the ladies rest rooms in such a middle of nowhere restaurant in India is an adventure in itself, especially when you are a young girl travelling alone at night. Now I have company and I was thrilled!

I finished my dinner as quickly as I can, walked to the smoking area outside the restaurant and met Pallavi there. I secretly wished that she didn’t smoke, although I kept that thought to myself. I decided to cut this part out of the idealistic image I was building of her in my head.

We looked around for the ladies rest area. Suddenly the power went off. The entire restaurant and all its surroundings were in pitch darkness. We waited a few minutes; we could hear someone had just started searching for candles. Getting candles to the ladies rest room would be the last of anyone’s priorities there. We didn’t have much time before the bus started. I half- heartedly suggested maybe we should go to the bus.

“But I really have to go, don’t you?” she asked

I nodded.

“Well, follow me then”. She said and walked straight up to a tall young man who was standing a few feet away from us. He had thick moustache and broad shoulders. He was the kind of man who could fight off a few gangsters in typical Bollywood movie style. I could see the surprised look on his eyes when he saw two young women walk right up to him. He looked puzzled and looked around.

Pallavi smiled at him and said “Brother, could you escort us to the ladies room please? It is too dark out there and we would really appreciate if you could come and guard us”

I could see my own jaws drop as she said this. It is scary enough that the whole area is dark and eerie. On top of that she wants to invite a young man to join us to go to the rest room, what is she thinking? I wondered!!! The man had the same look as mine for a second. Then he said “Sure, sisters” and showed us the way.

All three of us took out the mobile phones and shone the feeble blue lights on the rubble pathway that led to a nearby shed that had the ladies room sign. Pallavi and I took turns to go inside while the other waited outside with our new brother. Soon after we walked back to the bus and started the second leg of our journey.

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The Volvo bus has large glass windows lined with thick cloth curtains. If you slide the curtains to one side you can see the breathtakingly beautiful panoramic view of the deep blue sky. Dark silhouette of the trees fenced the lower portion where the sky touched the ground on one side of the road…from there the sky stretched above our heads to form a dome. Towards the center of the dome the sky got lighter and lighter to a pale grey until it reached the bright ivory bubble in the center.

Pallavi and I were both looking outside though the window as we spoke quietly about the little nothings.

Her phone rang with a slow vibration. Pallavi leaned forward on her seat and spoke softly into her phone.

“Hey man, yep it’s me…I am on my way to Bangalore. I am joining this week. ..Yes the results have come…it is confirmed man…Make a guess…?? It’s a tumor…I am so F’ked man”

The conversation went on for a few minutes and then she lost the signal on her phone.  She leaned back and smiled at me.

“Are you wondering what I was talking about?” she asked.

“I heard parts of it, who is sick?”

“Well, kiddo don’t freak out if told you something okay?” she said

“I won’t, promise” I said

“I am sick, I have a tumor in my head. I was undergoing treatment for the past several weeks for recurring head aches, now the test results have confirmed that I have a tumor inside my head and I am probably not going to live long”. She was very matter of fact.

“What? That really sucks…how bad is it? Are there medicines? How about operating the tumor out” I asked.

“Well here is the problem”, she started drawing lines in the air. “This is where the two lobes of the brain are and somewhere in the middle is my tumor”. So it is not really easy for the doctors to cut it open and take it out, you see…The pain, yes it is there always …and it gets really really bad at times. There is a medication from abroad that has been effective for the pain. It is very expensive. My aunt sends me those medicines from States. “

We spoke more about the tumor and the treatment options. We spoke about how long she thinks she will live and what she plans to do with her pet turtles if she dies. I know I was still a stranger to her so she could tell me the truth about how she is going to die and not have to deal with me the next day getting all sympathetic about her. As she was talking to me, she was getting into the reality herself, she was thinking out and readjusting her future plans how ever short lived it may be.

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It was an hour past midnight. The bus stopped at a gas station for fueling. The silence inside the bus was broken by the rhythmic snoring sound of various passengers. One can guess the sex and approximate age of a person from their snoring sound. The older gentleman who snores like a blender trying to blend glass marbles, the middle aged man who snores like a cycle pump inflating a tire in short and long pauses, the middle aged woman who snores like a purring cat and wakes up every time her own snoring gets louder than a cat’s purr. The worst of them all was the man who sat in the row just opposite to my seat. His snoring was an annoying combination of a toy truck trying to climb a cemented slope and a bullet bike coming to a stop with hot puffs blown out through its exhaust pipe.

Pallavi and I exchanged a mischievous glance that said “shall we?”

I took a small tissue from my purse and rolled it into a thin cylinder. I slowly got up from my seat, leaned over to our snoring bullet’s side and slowly inserted the tissue to his nose. The man kept snoring as if nothing happened. I tried once more as Pallavi was trying hard to stop herself from laughing out loud. During the second attempt the man suddenly shook his head and turned to the other side. I jumped back to my seat , closed my eyes and pretended to be deep asleep for a few moments…The man started snoring again and we both giggled like little girls for as long as we could remember…till tears rolled down the sides of our eyes and we both fell asleep.

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“Rise and shine, we are almost there”…Pallavi was smiling at me when I opened my eyes.

She was combing her curly hair and tied it again into a neat bun. I stretched my arms, wiped my face, popped two fresh mints to suppress the morning breath. I offered her the mints and she took two of them.

The bus was reaching Madiwaala, the final bus stop.

“So kiddo where do you go from here ?” she asked.

“My friend should be here to pick me up, how about you?” I asked.

“I will get a rickshaw and be off to my apartment” she said.

The bus had stopped by now and the passengers in the front seats were already getting down. We took our bags from the overhead compartments and started walking towards the door.

“Well that was a real fun ride” I said.

“You take care girl, be good” she said.

“You too...Hope to see you again in one of these rides!”

“Yep let us hope!”

With that we both got down from the bus. We smiled and waved at each other and walked our separate ways. I looked back one last time and saw Pallavi signal a rickshaw that stopped next to her , she got into it and  that was the last I saw her.

Have you seen Pallavi- the tall, fair, highly charismatic woman probably in her mid or late thirties by now the one who is a cancer survivor? I imagine she would be an active participant in the pink ribbon marathons. She would have traveled many times around the globe by now. You would know her if you see her, just look for the little teddy bear tattoo on her thumb.

Would you tell her that I am very happy she is still alive?

Happy Valentine's Day!

The year was 1999. A girl met a boy a few weeks before Valentine’s day. They knew each other by name and had spoken on a few occasions.

The boy asked the girl “It is Valentine’s day next week. Do you have a valentine?”

The girl replied “No.”

Boy: “Do you want to be my valentine?”

Girl: “What would we do as Valentines?”

Boy: “I will call you on that day and wish you a very happy valentines day”

Girl: “That sounds cool; sure it’s a deal then”

The girl was an active member of various youth forums, and enjoyed all the fancy titles it gave her. The boy was a musician and strummed beautiful notes on his guitar.

Days passed by uneventful. Valentine’s Day arrived. It was a big day for the girl. She was called upon to deliver a speech, at a public gathering. She was one of the youngest chosen youth representatives– the topic was ‘Politics in Universities’. She was well prepared and all set for the show. The story digresses from this point on. But dear reader, I promise you, you will not be disappointed.

The girl was determined to deliver a great speech. She had to impress the audience and her fellow youth speakers, some of whom were professors and senior students at the ‘Big and Famous University’ where she hoped to get accepted after her senior school. It was imperative for her that she gets into their good books. She also knew a few of the senior dignitaries on the dais. The chief guest especially was some one she had to impress with her speech this time, because during the last encounter she shared a stage with the said dignitary as a ‘Chief Guest’, she addressed him as ‘Chief Minister’. It was a BIG embarrassment for several weeks and months. This was her chance to rewrite history. This was her chance to do or die.

She patiently awaited her turn to speak. When the master of ceremony announced her name, she got up, smiled at the audience, gracefully flipped her flowing silk locks of hair with a quick wave of her hand and walked towards the podium…Did I mention she likes to show off? Well, she does. So she decided to take a few quick steps and a light hop and skip to reach the podium. Why on earth would any one do that? You have to ask the girl, she likes to show off, I told you dear reader. So the girl did the above moves and just as she approached the podium “THUMPPPPPH”, there she fell on the stage, nose down... Followed by a sudden silence, a gape and a burst of laughter from the entire audience she slowly got up. Bigger embarrassment – of Himalayan proportions, there is no real recovery from this point on.

The chief guest was genuinely concerned. He offered her a chair to sit down and suggested she take a few moments to recover. She couldn’t really look any one in the eyes and insisted to speak right away. See, the good thing about speaking in front of a big crowd is that you don’t have to make eye contact with any one person in particular, while most people find that a difficult feat to achieve, she counted it as a blessing on this occasion. So without wasting another moment she went on to deliver her full speech. The crowed cheered, or that is how she would like to remember it.

This is where the digression ends and we go back to our original story, of the girl and the boy.

Valentines Day couldn’t get any worse than this, the girl assured herself, unless of course her date stood her up. It was almost 6 in the evening, yet no phone calls. Strange! Would a guy stand up a girl even though all he had to do was to make a phone call? She was not sure, because she hasn’t been on dates before nor had she had any valentines before. So she decided to wait. She made sure he didn’t call while she was away delivering her great speech. It was almost 7 in the evening, several wrong number calls and calls for other family members later, the phone rings again.

This time the call was for the girl. She answered the phone and the boy said “Happy Valentines day, girl”

Girl: “thanks, happy valentines to you too”

Boy: “How was your day?”

Girl: “It was okay, nothing special, how about you?”

Boy: “Oh you wouldn’t believe the day I had”

Girl: “Really, what?”

Boy: “You see, I promised I will call you today, but I didn’t have your number. I tried to get from a few others, but couldn’t”

Girl: “Ha!”

Boy: “The phone at my house stopped working since yesterday so I had to ride down to the booth with a telephone directory. I knew your fathers last name and the part of the city where you live. I narrowed down to five names. I tried calling one by one and finally reached you”

Girl: “Really? That’s very sweet of you; I thought you wouldn’t call since I didn’t see your call all day!”

Boy: “Oh how can I not call you, I promised you I would, besides you are my first valentine!”

Girl: “Aww, well you are my first valentine too. So let us promise to call each other on every Valentine’s Day, okay?”

Boy: “Sure, it’s a deal”

For many years that passed, they always called each other. He brought her roses at times, they exchanged gifts other times. Even when life, universe and other sundries engulfed their world, they always took a moment to pause and cherish each other. They never dated each other; they never kissed, or married or had any kids together. They never fell in love with each other in spite of the great love and respect they had for one another. They helped each other through numerous mistakes, infatuations, heartbreaks, hardships, truly rejoiced in each others successes…and on every valentines day wished each other ‘happy Valentines’, ‘cause after all he was her first valentine as she was his !

Once in a Blue Moon….

The last time I ever checked this space, I was living solo…living the wild life by my rules, enjoying the silence and being the boss….

2 years and 9 months later, here I pause and take a deep breath as I am writing this, the life has changed like a mixed up movie reel… The actors have aged and so have their character outfits…what was wild and insane has been replaced with delicate and mundane…The silence of solitude has given way to banal cries of the worldly chaos…Love and romance feels like a thing of the past…In the midst of this long run, as I stop momentarily, turn back and look at the dry leaves that has covered the path behind…all I can feel is the rhythm of the heart and the cold wind wiping the sweat off my forehead.

It was a good run, a pretty good run I must say…The American dream is blossoming slowly…with a rewarding and satisfying job, a roof over the head that I can call my own and the most precious bundle I ever held – the one with tiny little toes, a wiggly torso and an angelic face with the cutest smile looks up and calls me Mom…could I ask for any more…? Yet the missing star shall always remain the perfect one!

It is intriguing how the human mind always goes back to what we have consciously given up either by choice or lack of it…The more you make a good life, you also accumulate the ‘good old days’…the more you commit to some one, the more you want freedom…the more you walk away from something, the more you miss it dearly…the more power and responsibilities you seek and earn, the more you yearn for a simpler life…yet none of us would be happy or content if things never changed!

It a new year!A new beginning? Probably not….over the many years you come to realize that the only thing new about a new year is a calendar or a diary! Resolutions are often broken even before the first page of the calendar is flipped… For all practical purposes, for most of us, it is just another day…and for some of us it is a day with an acute hangover…Oh how I envy them!

What the New Year does bring, is an opportunity to reflect….the media, the books, the talk show hosts, they all spend the last few days of the year reflecting on the past 12 months. Everything is weighed on a balance one last time, juxtaposed against other similar events from the past and predictions about what future may bring.

And for those of us who have been busy running on the life track, it’s the time to pause and give respect to those pebbles you went passed unnoticed, those dry leaves you crushed under your feet, that occasional stranger who smiled back at you and the tiny little flower that stuck on your sleeve and has since then moved into your heart!

A bright 2010 that was indeed made special by a blue moon is beckoning all of us…Eager to know where the path is taking me on this track, I sprint forward…

All By Myself....

A social being, yes that is what we are…We, humans are social beings…We like to socialize; we like to be with people of the similar or likeable nature, genre, culture, cuisine, language. This was not just a pleasurable thing, but also a necessity.

But as time evolved, as we progressed, as we became technologically more and more advanced, we learnt how to be able to survive even if we are left all alone in a cocoon of our own for weeks or months at a stretch… I was in one such cocoon for the past one year. I don’t mean to say that I cut off all contacts I had with civilization all together and that I went to hibernate for one whole year hoping to turn into the neo age Valmiki. I was certainly not admitted in one of those high end rehabs to recuperate from terrible mental depression. I was just staying alone all by myself 5 days a week as my hubby moved out to a different city for work.

The regular expression I get from my friends and families about me staying alone is “Awwwhh…that’s so sad” “Oooh…How do you manage…?”, “Are you all right by yourself”…and the worst… “Can’t you just quit your job and go stay with your hubby cooking and cleaning for him?”

I politely smiled and tried to nod to most of the above people, except for the ones who asked the last question. I served them coffee with surf detergent in it, so that they never came back to my house…

Now that I have one full year experience of staying all alone in a far away country, I decree myself as qualified to blog about the 5 best things about being All By Yourself. If you look at it the right way, it is not bad at all…Read on if you were looking for the pointers…

1. Silence: The beauty of silence…the intimacy of silence, the depth of silence.. You need to be alone to experience this. When you are walking all alone on the streets and the wind blows lifting with it the fragile dry leaves from the road sides…have you listened to the quiet murmuring sound that those leaves make? When you are sitting in the park, have you listened to the chirping of the birds that merge with the tripping of the leaves from the tiny water fall near by… You need to be alone to experience these things.. When you lie on your couch and you flip through the television channels quickly, have you listened to the eerie silence that fills in the room? At times when you are back from work after a hard day, all you want is some silence and the need, not to explain things to some one why all you need is some silence…

The silence has so many different forms that I feel it has a personality of its own…if you give it the time, it can start talking to you, in silence !!

2. Be your wildest self: No matter how much of an open book you are, there will certainly be some pages that no one else, but you, can flip through in every person. You can be at your wildest self when you are all alone…The one thing that stops every one from putting forth your real self, is the fear of being judged… The fear is more if you don’t want some one you are close to, to judge you. When there is no one around poking their long noses into your personal business, you let yourself free… you can be in your grumpiest mood or you can sing your favorite love song at the top of your voice…without being concerned about whether or not you are hitting the right notes and beats…You can throw away your clothes and be naked if you want, or put on your best make up and take ever lasting classic pictures of yourself… You can talk to yourself in the mirror as much as you want and you can just cry your heart out without trying to explain to some one why you are crying…the list goes on…

3. You are the boss: Those who are used to planning and coordinating and communicating with various people and groups at work on a day to day basis, would agree with me how nice it would be to know that, for once even if you don’t plan anything, things will happen your way. You don’t have to communicate to or convince some one why you have the urge to do some crazy thing at a craziest of times…you can just go ahead and do it…

Cook if you want, don’t cook if you don’t want…go for a drive if you want, stay at home if you don’t want…go for shopping, walking, rent a movie, talk on the phone non stop, read blogs till late night, chat with old friends non stop, sleep on the couch with TV blaring loud, hog the entire bed and all pillows in he middle of the night, take the entire closet space, stay in the bathroom for hours perfecting your songs… you can do what ever you want with out being concerned about what or how it may affect some one else’s plans for the day or the evening.

Of course, I am not talking about taking any major life changing decisions being taken at the spur of a moment and moving ahead with it…I would still consult my entire family tree, the branches and the roots even, before doing any such milestone reaching things…but what I am more interested in, is the simple things in life…the things that give you immense pleasure at the cost of nothing…the things that you don’t want to spend your energy planning, talking, coordinating , convincing or compromising…You just want to do it, or not do it…for the pure pleasure of it….

4. Brings Clarity: I never thought I would be writing this…but yes, I feel that being alone gives you more time to self retrospection and bring more clarity to those things that were previously air brushed!

You priorities seem to get clearer, you start depending less on others to form and opinion about yourself…you develop the skill by which you can measure yourself to the exact micro meter and decide whether the way you have turned out is what you really want or not…As a person you start realizing and acknowledging the various things that are important to you, and important to those who are important to you. I agree that all of the above revelations is just a part of growing up and you would have attained them anyway even if you were living in a 20 member family or in a dormitory with 50 other persons around… So here what I am trying to say is, when you mentally learn to be alone, even if you are physically surrounded by a huge mob, you learn to think with better clarity and precision…

If not the fruit if the Bodhi tree, you would at least sniff some pollen from the precious flowers in the breeze…

5. To Miss and be Missed: Finally, being alone gives you a chance to miss the people you love and be missed…it is beautiful and painful at the same time…when you are away from home, away from the familiar faces, streets, scents, furniture, tastes…you realize how much you love them and how much you miss them…how much they were a part of you, though you probably would have denied it in front of public!!

Knowing that you are equally missed is also wonderful.. In a world where people are looking for constant re assurances of love and commitment, the realization that you are missed, loved and wanted says it all. It gives you the energy and motivation to go on…

Not to mention the joy of brief and occasional reunions… the fun, the laughter, the sharing, the food, the compromises, the fights, the tears …everything that you share with your loved one during that brief reunions adds so many more wonderful memories and warmth in your heart and it refreshes your soul….

This has become much more emotional than what I had wanted it to be…Let me tell you a secret…I had started writing this blog as a 10 pointers to being all by your self…but by the time I came to my third bullet, I knew I was running out of my best things list….

I guess I’ve had enough of staying alone for one whole year and now I am ready to go back being together with some one again…

Sealing my book of wild cards with a double lock I am back to the world of not being so All Alone again…. I think I will love it equally!!

Spring is around the corner.. New beginnings, new blossoms..!!

Have you ever returned to a place that you really loved, a place where you thought you belonged, a place that made you feel at ease…after a very very long gap and felt that strange chill in the back of your neck and a tumbling feeling in your stomach…? The familiar spots, colors, faces. They all try to strike a chord with you…But the intimidating strangeness that has engulfed your familiar surroundings mock at you….

Which way do you walk…? Do you take the safety of the once familiar routes or do you dare to venture the never before visited alleys? Do you revisit the once regularly visited spots and bow to the familiar faces or do you just march on as the new mysterious persona in town, arousing all passersby’s curiosity..? Or would you just sit at one corner not knowing what to do next and end up recollecting the old tainted pictures from your memory..?

This is exactly where I am right now and this is exactly what I am feeling right now…Its been more than a year I penned down anything creative…its been so long I have even visited my once favorite bloggers…and its been a very long time….And just like that I am here again…!!

Its been a good exile…with lots of good and a couple of not so good stuff happening with the life.. Nothing highly dramatic like winning the Big Brother show or anything highly rewarding like inventing a replacement for fossil fuels happened in my life… Just the regular stuff…more work and less work… one good visit back home and great time spend with family and friends…one more birthday… more shopping and more shopping…more photos and more photos, gifts, parties, dinners, ever growing credit card bills and a bunch of fights and yelling and being pissed off which I would group together as miscellaneous.

Every now and then the feel good factor of blogging, comes in…Just like the feel good factor of working out…which also apparently was in a terrible screeching halt for a while!! In an effort to convince myself with genuine reasons or rather excuses of not blogging , I question myself , why do I blog…?

No, am not questioning the essence of blogging, or why others blog…? I do understand and appreciate the talent and commitment shown by various people in keeping alive their blog, whether it is fictional, scientific, technology related, art , music or anything under the sky…but why do “I” blog…? Oh god, I am coming to hate myself for the very artificiality and hypocrisy that question resonates…I know why I blog…it is because I love words, I think, I think non stop, I love to combine my thoughts and put it into words and then read them as they come out…I like when others also read it…I love it when people appreciate…Oh I am no good sport…I get so pissed off when I get negative comments and sulk..

If I know all this I shouldn’t be even asking that question…Or may be I should I ask, why is it that I gave up blogging ? Lazy , busy, occupied with other stuff…yes to all…But also, somewhere down the lane, I started to hate the fact that I had started wanting to write not for myself but for those whom I think might be reading my blog….

Even worse, I started not to write certain things, thinking about those who might read it and feel offended…

I know that the reason why I started blogging was because I thought, hiding in the anonymity of this veil, I could write what ever came into my, exactly the way I felt inside. Let me admit, I am indeed a chicken!! But clearly, being the attention I seeker I am, i made sure almost every who knows me, knew about my blog…There goes the cover of my anonymity…A puff and a smoke …ashes remain….

Now, I arise from the ashes…is this a new phoenix…with a bolder, daring outlook?
Which way do I walk…? Do I take the safety of the once familiar routes or do I dare to venture the never before visited alleys? Do I revisit the once regularly visited spots and bow to the familiar faces or do I just march on as the new mysterious persona in town, arousing all passersby’s curiosity..?

That is something I have to wait, watch and see….

Wishing myself all the best in a new beginning….!!

While I was Sleeping….

Its been a long slumber. In the blogoshpere , a sleep this long is enough to declare you brain dead and as being in a vegetative state.. A few kind and loving passers by even stopped by to pray for my soul and place some chrysanthemums on my coffin…When they began to write me an eulogy, I scared them away by sighing heavily, rolling over to my right side and blurting some random rants in the sleep..

It was not yet summer when I slipped into my hibernation…It was still cold outside and I felt be warm and cozy nestling under the comforters;

I was too lazy to pull off the covers and wake and start doing what was I supposed to be doing...Instead I was in constant denial that the only reason for my not blogging was that I had to prepare myself for some higher challenges and glorious goals waiting ahead…

Four months and a season change later, when my eyes could no longer resist the bright rays of reality poking its lids, I slowly opened them ,sat tight on my bed, still clutching on to my blanket and began to examine the new world around me.

Have I transformed into a beautiful butterfly with vibrant colors splashed all over my wide fluttering wings? ‘The mirror mirror on the wall’ and the weighing machine that I always hated confirmed that I have gained a few pounds.. My strange food allergies have caused my left cheek to swell up noticeably , my once long hair has been cut short above my neck and the fading colors of red, brown, black and blonde on my hair looks like a group of butterflies have just emptied a load of water from their Laundromat on to my head!!

When the legendary sleeping beauty woke up from her long slumber, there was a charming prince standing next to her bed…But when I woke up, to my dismay, I realized that the only man I had managed to blind with love, cornered to propose me, recite the vows and dragged on my finger tip where ever I went, has managed to pack his bags and escape to a far away land…leaving me to semi-spinsterhood. Now before you start sending me condolence notes and may be marriage proposals from 35 year old widowers too…let me explain…we are still happily united in holy matrimony and all that cliché. The new status change is because Mr. MD got a better job neat the “Vah-Beach” and we have to stay separate during the week days as both of ours career ambitions and love for intellectual pursuits don’t let us to be a house-spouse. Yes, in the new world, you have to stay closer to the one who writes your pay checks!!

On further ruminations, I could see that my bank balance has become way to lighter than what I remembered it to be…My closet is filled with clothes bought on sale, half of which I am sure I will never wear again.. My refrigerator has become a junk yard for frozen and greasy pizza breads and chicken wings. The entire apartment requires an emergency squad to tidy it up. Unanswered mails, unreturned calls, unvisited blogs, unfinished books…The list is endless

On the positive side my credit history has been certainly building exponentially..(It should after all that shopping I do..!!) My friends, who went back to India indefinitely, came back to a place much closer. For my office work I got a sexy and sleek little gizmo that I proudly carry around 24/7. As Mr. MD and I see each other only on the week ends, the amount of fighting, arguments and yelling at each other has reduced considerably and all that has given way to routine movie goings, romantic dinners and quality time together

Finally, the whole guilt of not doing anything interesting for some time was washed off completely by one group visit to the Sin City- Las Vegas with a group of equally enthusiastic and up for any game friends…Four days full of drinks, foods, party, dance, clubbing, strip clubs and innumerous naked women later…I feel much rejuvenated and it is time to bid adieu to my vegetative state….

Blog world…Here… I re-enter!!!

Are We-Men Good Enough?

Yesterday I received a rather innocuous email forwarded by my friend. It came with a disclaimer “How to think like an M.C.P” and the story indeed portrayed how inane women are in comparison to men. I decided to give it the due neglect it deserves, but couldn’t resist forwarding it to a few good Samaritans who I knew would be jobless enough to appreciate enough!!

Just after a few ‘email seconds’, I received a reply from my good friend Mr. B. He, who proclaims himself as “Me De Man !!”, reveled at the wise content of the mail with a Mogambo like Muuuuaaahaaaha laughter. He stated that a recent research by a professor says that women are biologically inferior to Men in Scientific and Mathematical skills!! As Cartoons and PJs are the most controversy triggering topics du jour, I had to give his comment a befitting reply and thus a foray of emails were sent between the two of us.

Though both of us were indeed trying to score a point every time, some interesting thoughts did come up which I am glad to share with you. (I lost the first mail from Mr.B in this chain, but you still can understand the plot)

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From : Me

I believe it is foolish to compare two entirely different subdivisions of the same species because they are created for entirely different purposes.

We never compare a cuckoo with a nightingale or a panther with a cheetah. Even if we compare, it never boils down to a mere superior-inferior break down.

They are simply different and they have different purposes in life.

It doesn’t make sense for man and woman to have equal skills in everything because then the very purpose of having man and woman separate doesn’t make sense. Remember certain animals can change sex during the course of their life pro creational purposes. So It has to be with a reason we are created the way we are and I wonder which university would fund such professors to spend time on such researches. He should rather use his superior scientific brain to find permanent cure for aids !!

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From : Mr.B

My response below in blue.

I believe it is foolish to compare two entire different subdivisions of the same species because they are created for entirely different purposes.
It is not when one sub-division claims to and demands to be treated equal without proving themselves to be equal. If I claim to the world that everybody treat me equal to Einstein, then I have to prove that, else not claim or demand it.

We never compare a cuckoo with a nightingale or a panther with a cheetah. Even if we compare it never boils down to a mere superior inferior break down.
You are right, we shouldn’t compare a sparrow to a rabbit, but we sure compare a male rabbit to a female rabbit, if and only if the female rabbit claims the above point.

They are simply different and they have different purposes in life.
True.

It doesn’t make sense for man and woman to have equal skills in everything because then the very purpose of having man and woman separate doesn’t make sense. Remember certain animals can change sex during the course of their life pro creational purposes. So It has to be with a reason we are created the way we are and I wonder which university wud fund such professors to spend time on such researches. He shud rather use his superior scientific brain to find permanent cure for aids !!
I agree and not only animals, these days, even human beings are doing that. The university is Harvard itself and he is not just a professor but the president (not anymore) of Harvard. Instead of refuting his opinion by statistics and proof they simply seem to agitate. Alas they are women!!!

Link to the controversial news

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From : Me

I really do not have much knowledge of what the so called feminists claim to be or demand for. In fact I even feel they are one of the most misunderstood lots. I don’t even think any intelligent feminist would blindly say consider me as equal as a man…If at all she would, the context in which she might have said that has to be given due weight age.

Nevertheless, it is a known fact that discrimination has been and is being done on the basis of sex. Denying education, a good living and in many cases, even birth owing to your sex is gruesome.

I have often felt that people in the relatively upper strata, like us, often fail to understand the nuances of discrimination being done. But the true stories from a remote Indian village might paint a different picture that you might want to brood over.

Moreover, personally I would never argue to consider me equal to Einstein; Not even Madam Curie or Shakunthala Devi. But I certainly know that I can be better in certain job profiles than a lot other peer male/female members I have worked with. So if I “can” do a particular job better than some one else, just don’t discriminate because I am a female. Again, please don’t expect me to do a certain thing only in a certain way because I am a female. !! That is what I call a fair playing ground.

Quite often, human mind loses its rationality and once the mob psyche overtakes, the only thing they are capable of doing is agitate. This is true to both men and women. We have innumerous riots and violent attacks spread all over the history to prove this point- Lead by both men and women.
:)

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Our discussion stopped here. I am not sure if we both reached on the same page or if we just agreed to disagree. But I did take a look at the link Mr.B sent and from that I learnt that -
Mr. Summers was just expressing a suggestion at a conference on women and minorities in science and engineering. It was neither his research finding nor was he voicing the opinion of Harvard. Probably the guy just needs better coaching as to how to use his freedom of speech more sensibly on sensitive issues especially when he sits of hefty chairs.

As far as the agitation staged by women who felt offended, well it is natural to feel offended, but there certainly could have been a better way of doing it!!

10 Things Posted Bold On My Walls

1. Never give an advice unless it is Requested. You are denying yourself the opportunity to say ‘you asked for it!’- People will hate it anyway.
2. Never volunteer to take up a job that was Not assigned to you, especially if it was left unfinished and abandoned by a less competent person.
3. Never think you can perfectly understand a situation from some one else’s shoes. You have only one shoes and that is yours.
4. Never say Never. You most likely will end up doing the same.
5. Attitude implants are rejected by the brain in 99% of the cases (Courtesy - Calvin)
6. You have a right to be immature and stubborn when you choose to; It is unfair for one person to always pay the price for being the more matured one
7. Quit fooling yourself with the cliché “S/he is just like my own sis/bro”. The stress is on the word like. S/he never was , is or will be
8. Quit asking questions if you have no honest interest in the answers, what ever that may be.
9. If you have an emotional outburst to pen down something, do it immediately. The waves never reach the fort walls once the tide goes down.
10. Do not borrow some one else’s post it points.
    
    
    Current emotion: extremely pissed off, vexed and feeling lonely
    A Confession : I lied. I never posted them on my walls. They make the place look dirty.

An Ode to God's own country- Part 2

I love this song for it portrays a simple, but serene picture of the richness and diversity of the art, culture and folklore history of Kerala. The slightly difficulty classical notes adds to the grandiose of the song

For some reason we had to record the song in two parts. So please play the part 1 in the previous blog first if you want to enjoy the whole song in its fullness

An Ode to Gods Own Country Part 1

My good Friend Ash wanted this song for some competition. We learned this song in school and she 'politely demanded' me to sing and record the song for her. Thankfully, Neena came to visit me this week end with her hubby and we took some precious time out of our hectic week end and traveled down the memory lane to hum this…for the sake of our friendship, and of course due to genuine fear of threat ;)

Ash, the giggles and interruptions between the song was due to our naughty husbands sitting right behind us, and of course a couple of bottles of Johnny walker and Irish coffee as accompaniments… Please bear with!

My Insanities

I talk, I bathe and I weep. So what? Everyone talks everyone bathes and everyone weeps. Its not like I hunt, I kill or I kick asses…which I very much wish I did under certain circumstances at least. So what is it about my talking, bathing and weeping?

I am obsessed…So is it one more to the list? No, I am obsessed with talking, bathing and weeping.

Fear not, I don’t talk to real people who are kind enough to stop by and greet me. But I talk to myself. Sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, always with vivacious expressions and at times with exaggerated hand movements. You can secretly observe me doing this mostly when I am in the passenger seat of my car, or when I am in the middle of my lengthy make up rituals or when I am in the company of boring people. I wouldn’t encourage you to secretly observe me when I am in restrooms or fitting rooms, so we can cross that off the list. In short when ever I am not engaged in any sort of meaningful or meaningless activities, I talk. I talk with real life people I know, in an imaginary context or some times in a previously occurred context. I talk my part of the dialogues while I clearly visualize the other person(s) delivering their part in front of me. Just like in real life, the other party can be mean to me at times. But in my imaginary talks, I grant myself the freedom to rewind and improvise my dialogues if I feel the need.

I must have started this habit in my teens to prepare myself for an elocution competition, or to face my secret crush. This even helped me in interviews, group discussions, television shows and emceeing. During my college days I was over occupied by my real life friends, activities and never ending phone calls. I could talk non stop over the phone for a whole night and yes I had friends who would patiently listen to me through out the night. But once I came to the land of opportunities, I got practically tongue tied as none of my close confidantes or patient listeners are around. My current room mate, who also happens to be my lawfully wedded husband, believes in the principle of KISS. No, he doesn’t mean one of those mushy hallmark kisses, not even the creamy Hershey’s kisses. He meant “Keep it short, stupid”!! So there I am, all alone with no one to engage in my never ending conversations. The mocking smile of my calling card bills increased my pain. Thus once again my imaginary hub of people came alive around me.

I adorn various personas while in these conversations. My age, profession, location, accent and even attitude changes with each persona I choose. I can easily fit into different peoples’ shoes and feel how it feels to be them. I have political debates with world leaders and pep talks with glam girls. I involve in managerial strategy talks and give lectures on how to improve our entertainment industry. The best part of all is that I always have my close ones around…SB and LN brings me all the good news I want to hear, SS advises me what to do next in every stalemate situation, PR corrects my accent when ever I go wrong and TK chides me every time I goof up.. I made GK and SN thoroughly understand that I am way too good for them and I repeatedly tell AV and MM how much I still miss them…That is my first obsession.

Let’s move on to the second. I bathe. Apart for the very obvious hygienic reasons, I bathe for the pure pleasure of it. At times when I am so bored and can’t think of anything else to do, I bathe. I also take bath if I am depressed or not in my usual spirits. The closed corners of the tub and the cover of the shower curtain give me an exclusive seclusion from the rest of the world when ever I want to disconnect. I like my water hot, scalding hot to be specific. I can stand in the shower for a very long time as long as the hot water trickles down my body keeping every cell warm and cozy. I stand with my back to the shower, my chin touching my chest and let the hot water fall on the back of my neck…It makes me say every time “Ooh la la…this is heaven on earth!!”. To me this is a highly refreshing and religious exercise that lifts my mind, body and spirit to a higher state. Please wait before you conclude this is the heights of insanity.

There comes my next obsession…I weep. Being very loyal to my sex, I do weep on almost all of the very obvious and predictable situations…But other than that, I weep, as a sort of cleansing myself. There are times when I lie down on my terrace, watching the moon. Untold emotions and anxieties rush in from the darkness and wells up my eyes. I am not always sad as one might think when I cry this way. Really, am not sad at all...and once I cry, I feel quite light and relieved. I could very well relate to a monsoon cloud dying to relieve itself as falling rain! Ironically I feel happy once I cry.

Are you still reading…?? Jeez you must be really obsessed with other peoples’ insanities…You are so insane…duh!!!

For the good old days of the past and for the joys of tomorrow..

Christmas and New Year seasons have to be the most wonderful time of the year as the famous song rightly puts it. In spite of the cold weather, people maintain a very high spirit and tend to be more kind, caring, loving and giving than ever. I wonder if it’s the hope that you will be judged and rewarded accordingly every time this year, that instigates this super nice syndrome in every one or is it just the happiness and joy of convivial togetherness that is reflecting in every action.

The one ubiquitous thing associated with any festival is the hype that comes with it. There is much hype about New Year during Christmas season. So Manoj and I went all the way up to the great New York City to witness the New York extravaganza on this Christmas Eve. There was indeed a maddening and highly disoriented crowd around the famous Rockefeller centre. The St. Patrick’s church was over booked and the entrance was closed long before the midnight mass. There was blinding colors and lights and a tsunami of people (seemingly tourists) moving around Time Square region. But other than that I found nothing amusing about the entire place. If we think logically, there is not a single day when New York is not crowded. There is not a single day when there are no lights or tourists in New York City. There is not a single day when the highly expensive shops in Fifth Avenue are not decorated efficaciously to lure the shopping fiends. Except for the huge Christmas tree at the Rockefeller centre there was hardly anything new about the place. I couldn’t help but compare this to the one week long Onam celebrations in my dear old Gods own country with extensive decorations stretching far and wide and non stop cultural, entertainment and dining booths present all over the palace ground. Nevertheless being at New York City for Christmas is a big deal in itself and I must admit that watching the adept ice skaters at the special ice rink in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller centre is a marvelous experience. I would have definitely tried skating there this time had I not been so ashamed of falling down a zillion times in front of a million people. So, contented with that we went back home promising to return next time as expert or at least decent skaters of course.

Having had an opportunity to compare the taste between hype and reality we were happy to have already booked tickets to go to Chicago to be with our friends for New Year instead of falling for the ‘New year ball drop at Time Square is the biggest thing in the whole wide world’ hype. Later reports from a few other colleagues of ours, who did fall for this bait, confirmed that our decision was right. On 30th December we flew to Chicago and were met at the airport by our very good friend Greeshma. Greeshma and Satheesh moved to Chicago from New Jersey and we have been missing their company ever since. We drove to their home in Naperville which is a pleasant and calm city with innumerous shopping malls around. The apartment was nice and as usual Greesh had kept it spick and span (much unlike me) and I enjoyed watching the way her creativity sparkled at every nook and corner of the house. But sadly I was having a slight fever that day and I was half doped on the antibiotics so all I could do as soon as I reached her home was to sleep for a while. Once I woke up I felt much better and was all set to rock. Satheesh was home from office after a while and Biju-Rehana joined us from St. Louis a little later. Now the real mood was set in of being home for holidays.

As typical of any holiday, we ate, drank and took lot of pictures. The star attraction of the group was Biju’s Canon SLR digital camera which made all of us look far more beautiful than we really are. All of us, especially the girls were giving their best poses and smiles in front of the lenses… Holidays are not just about having fun. It is also about telling others, ‘how much fun we had’ (probably more than you?) and giving proofs in pictures. So even if you just had a fight with your spouse, make sure you give a cheese in front of the cam!!



We still did not have a place to go for the New Year eves party. It was too late to get tickets for the one place we all had agreed upon. The various interests of the people made it even more difficult to find an agreeable place. Greesh n myself wanted a place with good dance floors preferably a Latin club. Manoj and satheesh wanted a place where there was an open bar. Biju and Rehana were blissfully free from most of the indulgence based vices and hence the decision had to be cost effective for tea totalers. Eventually after much confusion, accusations, phone calls and rejections we came across a club called Sangria which met all the required criteria and the tickets were booked online. So on Dec 31st we all decided to go to Chicago down town, around noon, to visit the main tourist spots of the city and from there go to the club later in the night.

Though the plans were all set, they were drastically altered as one of the ladies wanted to straighten her curly hair. She has nice shoulder length hair which falls into intricate curls at the end. I always thought it looked pretty. But she wanted to straighten it for the Big new year day and Murphy’s law was acting in full swing on her and this in turn took a very long time. I must say that she is an amazing perfectionist but sadly she doesn’t believe in the policy of a contingency plan and/or an alternate plan in anything. So she was bent on getting her hair straightened no matter what obstacles came up and she did succeed in it…How ever this made her pathee dev quite intimidated and the rest of the crowd was trying to be highly diplomatic in pacifying both of them so that we can all pose together with a cheese in front of the cam again!!

By night fall (It was just 4:30 pm, but the night did fall !!) we caught a train to Chicago down town. It was a one hour journey. So I got some time to wander in my thoughts. The train was moderately crowded. A good number of passengers were youngsters traveling to down town for the NYE celebration. Another section of the crowd seemed to be totally oblivious of the ‘importance’ of the day. Some of them were worn out from work, some of them had a painful concern in their eyes about their burdens, and some of them were way too less pretty to hang out in a club when compared to the rather sophisticated and highly made up gorgeous girls that occupied the majority of the seats. This made me wonder about the vanity of the being beautiful. Are we really beautiful or are we just as beautiful as what others think we are or even worse, what we think others think we are?

I did some personal introspection. I have reasonably beautiful eyes. But if I want to go for a special function, read as any gathering of people where I know I am going to be judged, I would not want to go without my colored contact lenses. I would never even think of going there wearing my thick glasses. Once my long nails got chipped just before a party and I got so frustrated that I stuck them back with a glue stick! A good friend of mine took pity on me seeing this and he brought me a couple of cosmetic attachable nails from US, which was not available in India at that time. Some one is hysteric about a bead in their bracelet facing the wrong side, some one is upset for the eye shades don’t gel well, some one is mad for their hair is frizzy and some one is furious for their shoes are one shade lighter !!! Not to mention the numerous ads for liposuction, augmentations, plastic surgeries and face lifts.

When it comes to the fairer sex, is their beauty all about following the standards set by the fashion icons through popular fashion bibles? Can we be really beautiful only if we have a size 4 body with a spotless glowing skin, green eyes, silky hair, well done nails, stunning clothes and matching paraphernalia? Have we lost complete confidence in the natural looks that our gene pool has blessed us with , that even stepping out of the house without doing considerable modifications on ourselves would become garish? Do we still believe that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder or is it long over written by the new phrase ‘beauty is very much within reach of only those with a good bank balance’?

A sudden out rush of people told me that we have reached Chicago down town. This is a beautiful city with closely packed high rising building. The architecture is very modern and highly creative. Even the buildings seemed to stress more on their appearance though I couldn’t understand what practical purpose would most of the protruding corners would serve any how? The chief attraction of the town is Sears Tower which is one of the tallest buildings in N. America. We went on top of it and had a very good view of the city. The lake shore drive around the city is also supposed to be very amusing just like its Navy pier. But we had to skip these two because of our time constraints and uncontrollable hunger. We were practically starving the whole day. So we rushed down. We met an Indian Cab driver and asked him directions to a nice Indian restaurant. Based on what he said we strutted 4 blocks in the chilling wind only to find a third class mafia style restaurant inside a congested alley and we ladies thought it was way too below our standard to step foot inside. So we walked again and eventually found a nice restaurant called ‘Athena’. I can’t quite remember what happened for the next one and a half hours as every one was busy ordering their dishes and hogging them generously. Once we were done with the dinner Greeshma and I headed to the rest room to change into our party wears.

The fashion bible says that girls in clubs have to wear partially revealing clothes which should mostly look as if the tailor forgot to stitch a couple of loose ends together. As we couldn’t walk in the chilling cold of down town in tattered clothes, we packed them in a bag, including our high heeled stilettos and made our husbands carry the bags so that we could change into them just before we go to the party. Also we had to put on some additional layer of colors on our faces to disguise our real selves. One lady who walked into the rest room while we were half way through our ‘hide your real self process’ thought that we work at the restaurant and we were changing from our uniforms to go out some were for the new year night!!

Once we were all set we got a cab and drove to ‘Sangria’ club for the big night. Despite the fact that we had VIP tickets which said we would not have to wait in a Queue to get inside the club, we were made to stand outside in the cold for about half an hour along with a bunch of others. Biju said this was a part of the publicity stunts by all clubs to make their club look to be in high demand. Once we got inside the club I found the place to be neat, though crowded. The management was still re arranging table to make space for the dance floor. The coat check in was not yet in place so every one was practically walking up and down disoriented. Manoj and Satheesh headed straight to the Open bar and spend most of their time there. Biju was kind enough to keep a watchful eye on the girls before we wander too far away. The DJ was not so impressive. He did play mixtures of Spanish-hip hop and bhangra songs. I and Greeshma danced sporadically. We even got hit on by a tall girl who was too eager to know all about Indians. But when her interest in us started getting too queer we politely excused ourselves from her. The night went on with occasional dancing, drinking, resting, ogling, comparing, ridiculing, criticizing and checking time every once in a while to know how much longer we have to be in 2005.

Finally the count down started. Thanks to the effect of the open bar the macho guys also decided to shed their macho ness and agreed to dance with us in the dance floor. They seemed to be more comfortable when they were in the dark corners of the dance floor where no one could clearly see what they are trying to do…Nevertheless, we all danced together and welcomed 2006 with the famous Auld Lang Song and blasting balloons that were dropped all over form the ceiling. We danced and spent time there a little longer and then headed back home.

All through the street there were drunken revelers mostly youngsters, at times fighting with each other and other times lost in love. We were too occupied trying to catch a cab to enjoy these live entertainments around us. Another one hour long train journey took us back to home. After spending some time reviewing the pictures of the day and making personal notes of how we can improvise the next day, we all crashed.

The First day of the New Year:

Satheesh and Manoj were very keen on skiing and they made the first resolution of the year that they both would wake up early in the morning and make the rest of us also get up so that we can go skiing to Wisconsin early enough !! But alas, the first resolution of the year was broken even before they could wake up on the first day of the year as no one was up before 10 a.m on that day. All of us were too lackadaisical from the previous nights hang over and it was 12 noon by the time we all got out of the house. We had a late brunch at the Wendy’s and then headed to the skiing area called Four lakes. This was a near by ski location with moderate mountains perfect for beginners. Greesh and I were not sure if we wanted to ski owing to the big falls we had last year. But Manoj and Satheesh were all set to go. We convinced Biju and Rehana also to put on the skis and in a few minutes all of us were in the snow walking, climbing, skiing, falling, yelling for help and laughing at each other!! The skiing as such was not as eventful as last years may be because most of us had become more adept and there were less ludicrous mistakes all through. Manoj and Satheesh had improved noticeable. Rehana was doing way too good for a beginner. Biju had this funny fluorescent blue cap with a pointy end that looks like there is a palm on top of his head waving at you…This gave his pictures a funnier twist and later he was indeed crucified by everyone. In return he targeted me as the victim and spread rumors that I shouted at a little kid on my way asking him to move from my trail and desperately shouted “Mooove Mooove…Mooovedaaaa” !!!

Just before we wound up the skiing, we all posed for pictures with poles. Biju a.k.a Mr. B was not yet done with making fun of me…so he posed for the picture with an expression as if he is skiing into the mouth of a hungry tiger and claimed that’s how I looked like when I was skiing. But unfortunately for him he did not even have his skis on his feet and it looked highly funny to see some one standing on the snow on his two solid boots with full grip and looking as scared as a little mouse trying to yell for help…The picture was made even more hilarious as Satheesh and Manoj were looking at all this ‘Tamasha’ and laughing at him for his Oscar winning performance…Sadly the rest of world will not get to see this picture of the year as Mr. B smartly deleted it off all the system before we could make any more copies of it.

That night, under Rehana’s and Greeshma’s leadership we had sumptuous Malabar cuisine dinner with ghee rice, chicken and all. Greeshma’s friend Priya also joined us. She is a bubbling packet of energy and never gets tired of talking. We had long talks, interesting discussion, belly aching laughs in the company of light champagne !!

The next day it was time to say good bye. Manoj and I headed home first. The parting was sad, but we are hopeful to re unite some where again, very soon indeed

“For auld lang syne, my dearFor auld lang syne,We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yetFor auld lang syne!”

Happy New Year wishes to all….!!!