Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Not thinking about tomorrow

The title's borrowed from Kid Rock.

All right, so I'm done with a 10 months long case. I thought I'd die on this case (because of how long it was, not because it was difficult), but it looks like we made it.

I'm wrapping it up now, after a phenomenal meeting with the Chairman earlier this week.

Not a lot happening at my end, or actually a lot happening- depends on how you look at it. I had a splendid weekend in Bombay. I spent most of it meeting old friends, and chilling with Vani, including getting happy over wine and cooking. Also, checked out a few neat places to hang out in Bombay. Net net, I came back with 2 new (almost new) pairs of shoes, one summer dress, the skill to cook Jeera aloo in the microwave, and a few good friends to count on, in the city.

On my flight to Bombay, I ran into 2 interesting gentlemen. One was serious, and the other quite happy. I met them in the shuttle on the way to the plane. Obviously, I kept rambling about why I was heading to Bombay, what's nice about both Delhi vs Bombay and how airports have become a nightmare now. On my way out of Bombay airport, the happy dude (who was a round, trade commissioner or something from Europe/North America- won't say anymore) gave me his card, asked me to give him a call if I wanted to get dinner, winked at me and left. A bit ewww! The serious guy was nicer and clearly very sharp. We spoke a bit, and then he gave me his card, asking me to stay in touch (and not so he could do dinner with me- not only am I much younger, but he's totally out of my league). He turned out to be the ex-Head of a large firm and now runs another reasonably big firm. By the end of it, I liked the serious guy way more than the happy one. Sort of inspiring! You know, when you work in the world of business, corporate and all, its difficult to not turn into a freak if you don't occasionally run in to inspiring people like these.

Mum leaves for the States tonight. Its the first time I can't think of what she should bring back for me. I was there only early last month, so I did stock up on Express blouses, sweet smelling slippery smooth lotions from B&BW and VS and lost titles from little known publishing houses. While I'm on that, I picked up a book called "Lets call the whole thing off" from Brussels airport. Its a collection of stories on Love Quarrels- not just boy-girl love, but even best friends, partners in same sex relationships, and parents. Any way, I'll decide closer to the date, but as of now, I can't think of anything I really need or want.

Plus, I started Yoga. You know, to get a Jennifer Aniston type of Yoga-body. I'm about 18 kilos away but I'm hopeful. Ok, not 18 kilos but easily 10. I AM about a stone lighter than I was a year back, but that's not enough to keep me happy. I don't like stick-thin though. I like it on firang bodies but Indian bodies look nicer fuller. Any way I',m not much into how people look. I find perfectly fat people attractive too. What I don't like is the unfit-types. Like the guy who promptly runs towards the couch in the restaurant, and plonks himself there. He literally needs to be extracted out of his seat as he clearly doesn't see a reason to move his ass once he's fit it firmly (firmly?) into the couch. I like fit- fit is hot! Obessive is not. I once used to have a really good friend who would often comment on even the slightest gain in my weight- in an almost disdainful way. Like I was gaining weight because I was unfit, lazy or a glutton! Any way, this one was quite a bitch at times.

The boys (they're actually chicks but its too SATC types to say that, so I call them boys)and I are planning a weekend thing, to do a repeat of Pondicherry. We owe it to the world. I don't think I've said it in so many words, but my school friends are filled with awesomeness. They're quite a solid lot.

Overall, I'm in a bit of a spot. Most of life is great. Rather, life these days is more exciting than I had ever wanted it to be. I mean, I always wanted life in my twenties to be one hell of a ride, and I think this is the point when I can say I'm there. It reminds me of Veronika Decides to Die....just like her, I have it quite nice these days (touchwood!!!)....the only difference being that I don't plan on OD-ing on sleeping pills.

Its probably the right time to listen to All Summer Long.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Such lack of talent

The firm will be sad to know that diligent and earnest Megha spent half her day bloghopping. In my defence (not that they will ever ask), I finished my work well in time, left work at 4:30 pm, got my eyebrows done, worked a bit more, and managed all that alongside.

Most blogs I read were written by women. It appears women mostly write about 3 things: Themselves, relationships (and sex) and Feminism. At the same time, men write petromax stuff (term borrowed from Skimpy), funny posts, comments on cricket, the stock market and how its principles can be applied to other things in life, thoughts on politics, algorithms on the possible result of the massive political drama.

I guess I'm generalizing, and I admit it. Especially, since I'm generalizing without judging (how annoyingly neutral can a girl try to be).

Just random thoughts on what I can write about (because I have opinions on them, and NOT because of moral blah)

* I don't think I can write about relationships, not the boy-girl types any way
* I can totally write (and dream, and salivate) about clothes and shoes. (P.S. I love this one and this one)
* I can't write movie reviews but I can write about any (ANY) Hindi song
* I can do food and books
* I can do personality tpes
* I can so do travel, even with my eyes closed
* I can so not write about sex, even if I try, or even if someone dictates. My lack of opinion on the subject will flow through even then
* I can totally do loneliness
* I can't do politics (I lurrrve politics, but have no skill in writing about it)
* I can do music
* I can do random ramblings, just like this one

Ok, AC just sent slides, so I'm off now, to work some more

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Is believing in it the only way to have it

Its Saturday, 7th March. I’m standing on the lower half of the escalator, smiling because I’m nearly at the boarding gate # 47, 5 minutes before my flight is scheduled to depart from JFK airport for Delhi. I’m smilingly messaging my Manager that I made my flight and will be able to make the Monday morning meeting despite the flight goof up. I hear a distant rumbling sound but blame my senses for being tired after the frantic 2 hour dash from Newport to JFK, changing trains, fighting with a bunch of college boys over a taxi, and losing to them, finally getting a taxi at Christopher Street, then breaking down when the cab gets stuck in traffic 2 kms away from the airport, hunting for my suitcase in the baggage storage and finally giving up when the air train takes 5 minutes longer at Terminal 7, convincing me I’ll never reach T-8. The rumbling sound gets louder and I take a break from the blackberry to turn to see where its coming from. A big black suitcase is tumbling down the long escalator, looking bigger as it gets closer to my face. I turn around, and run down the escalator but the speed at which the sound gets louder is faster than mine. I barely manage to turn left on the last step of the escalator and miss the suitcase by an inch. Its about 4.5 minutes to my flight now and I’m sweating. The events of the last few days flash past me as I drag my slightly fearful body to gate # 47.

I stayed over at Iyer’s at Newport last night. We spent the evening yesterday with Rubber and Nithya at a Rissotto place on 6th Ave, after which we went over to play poker at Newport with a group of ex-IIM banker types. Iyer and I sat up all night, chatting about people, rather amusing ourselves with funny stories, and some times overwhelming stories about almost every individual we have in common

Before I met Iyer last evening, I was in Manhattan. I was going to spend only a day in New York. I spent the afternoon with Ahmed. I met him at the airport waiting for the sky train- we both found each other looking familiar- he offered to help me find my way from JFK to Manhattan. Ahmed was nice- he’s a second generation Indian living in the States, a medicine student now doing his PhD, and works at the airport part time. We spent an hour on the train, stopped at Grand Central and then hung out at Times Square. I mentioned I love Dunkin Donuts so we spent another 30 minutes looking for quintessential American coffee. We eventually settled on Starbucks where we spoke about our lives, backgrounds, stories, favourite evenings, current relationship status, interests outside of work, food we liked and favourite places in the world. He asked me if the India I live in is actually what they show in movies like Fashion. In our conversations, I lost two Metro cards, dropped my bag a few times and almost got run over. Each time we crossed the streets of Manhattan he would hold my hand, chiding me hopelessly for not looking before crossing, as if he knew I had been a careless pedestrian my whole life. He knew I had plans to meet Iyer that evening so at about half past six, we said good bye to each other, not excchanging contact details and still not imagining how two complete strangers ended up spending half a day in NYC together, grinning more than laughing throughout.

Yesterday, morning of 6th March, I finished 7 days of training in Miami, which is another interesting account of how a firm can manage to recruit people, across 40 offices, all of whom have so many characteristics in common, and get them together in one place.

On 27th Feb, BB and I reached Miami after ~30 hours of flying from Delhi to Miami, via Brussels and NYC. I was generally kicked about the whole trip because of all the niceness the trip was filled with. To start with, this was the first time since Bali that BB and I were travelling together. Also, both of us had managed to upgrade ourselves to First Class, which I have to say is an altogether different level of luxury, and I’m afraid is sort of a forbidden fruit. And then the goodness started to follow.

At the immigration check in Delhi airport, the officer gave me a verbal pat on my back for not fleeing India to earn in dollars overseas. Then on our way, I met a lovely American lady who didn’t hesitate to complement me on my henna. The immigration officer at JFK looked serious, but did mumble a ‘That’s’ some smile’ when I flashed all 32 teeth into the immigration check camera; another African American dude curiously asked BB and me about the Henna and whether I had got married recently; Finally, after collecting my bags at JFK and before I boarded the flight to Miami I was held up randomly for special baggage screening. The officer was ~24 years old, cute with South Asian features, and clearly amused at the condition I had kept my passport in. BB thought he was cute too. I didn't know if he was Indian but remembered reading a Muslim name on his badge- Akbar or may be Ahmed. We left, smiling to ourselves for having had a great onward journey to the States.

I’m now on my way back, lying on a flat bed in Jet First, probably flying somewhere over the North Atlantic. Every one around me is asleep. I’m wide awake, wondering if life can either be easy or interesting. The Dev D soundtrack is in my ears.