The makings of a shirkaholic

This template quite suits me and my blog, methinks. Most pretty. I'm quite delighted with this template and this I will keep for much longer. I've also (kinda) figured out how to play with the fonts and colours, in case I am bored, so I am feeling rather proud of myself as I survey my blog's new and pretty look. I'm not so much into pink for blog colours you know - I like pink but no, not for my blog because it makes me think I should change my writing style, so I'd rather change the colour.

And yeah, finally, managed to add links to other blogs - which has been this blog's lifelong aspiration, I solemnly assure you. No, really. So if you want me to add your blog to your blog roll (ha!! you say?), do let me know. I'll only be most delighted. Though I suspect I'm more likely to have the people I've already added come and tell me to remove their blog from my blogroll. Gah!

Anyway, this was the conversation between a colleague and me sometime before lunch today –

Me: Today is Thursday, no? Hmm…I wish today were not a Thursday.

P: Why? You don’t like Thursdays?

Me: No. It’s just that Thursdays is Aloo Tikki or Paneer Tikka.

P: Paneer Tikka.

Sigh. This is what happens to people when they eat at Subway too often.

I’ve lost all motivation for work these days, and I do hope none of the bosses are reading this, or yours truly is bound to get the pink slip. So I leave everything for the last minute and then submit it hurriedly. I open a document to read it and while I am reading it, turning pages, my mind is elsewhere. I start to write reports but even after an hour, barely half a page is done. And before I know it, its 7pm and I haven’t done anything at all. I feel most guilty and mortified and decide that I will go home and complete it – if I do manage to open my laptop once I’m home, I fall asleep within minutes of doing so (though if I’m reading a book or watching television, I can stay up all night).

And then, I’m so ashamed of myself and so guilt ridden that I wake up bright and early the next morning, determined to work so hard that I’ll finish the entire week’s pending work in this one day. But again and again, it is the same story, day in and day out. And when people all around me are discussing work, drawing complicated diagrams on the board, firing printouts, exchanging important reports on pen drives while I sit and stare blankly at the many, many windows open on my system, my ears go red, my heart beats wildy and I fear they will all find out my dark secret and surely, I will be ostracized, maybe even excommunicated.

After pondering for many days on why I am like this, I have come to the conclusion that I need 2 things – a BREAK and a CHANGE. I’m getting my BREAK soon (and it couldn’t be soon enough) for I’m off to Calcutta this Saturday, where I will join the family to proceed towards Sikkim (bounces around room in joy). My dad says he is already practicing to be his annoying best so that we all heartily regret planning this trip at all and then literally blackmailing him into coming.

As for the CHANGE, I don’t want a change from my job really. Because there is a lot of variety in the project we do so I’m quite happy with my work actually. But I’ve been in Hyderabad for over a year now, and it’s the same old routine and I’m most bored with it. Sure, I have lots and lots of friends here, and its very cheap here and all that jazz but I’d really like to move out and experience life in another city because I’ve only lived in Hyderabad ever since I left home.

Well, yes, I did live in Bangalore too but living on campus in a city is not the same as living in the city. So Bangalore wouldn’t be a bad place to try out. I also loved Mumbai when I went there a couple of months ago, for the weekend. There is SO MUCH to do in that city, and so many people to do it with. So I was vacillating between Bangalore and Mumbai but finally settled on the former.

It took me well over a month to gather the courage to tell my boss that I wanted to move to Bangalore. I tried presenting a strong case for me to move, but I’m sure he thought it was rather immature of me. So he said that he and the Partner in Hyderabad were going to Bangalore and meeting the senior people there for a ‘Discussion on Resources’. Now he is back from The Discussion and I need to gather the courage to go and ask him about the outcome and my fate.

Oh, I will be most broken hearted if I am not to go to Bangalore. Ever since telling my boss that I wanted to move, I’ve been planning out my move to Bangalore. I will stay in a PG so I get to eat atleast one decent meal a day. And I will go for dance classes after work or on weekends – not the ubiquitous salsa, for I have my heart set on learning belly dancing or getting back into the Bharatnatyam groove. And I will enroll for weekend language courses (French/German/ Spanish).

Now if only I could go down and ask my boss.

So much to do, so little time

I don’t know if I mentioned it on my blog before but a few months ago I was working on a Big Life-changing Personal Project, henceforth called BLPP I was quite secretive about it then because I didn’t want anyone to know what I was working on in case it didn’t work out but since it did, I cant quite be stopped from announcing the news from the rooftop.

I have an offer of admission from the London School of Economics and Political Science, no less, to study the MSc Development Management. Mucho awesomeness methinks. See, when I was in college, I thought if I couldn’t make into one of the IIM’s I’d like to study at Oxford or Cambridge. There were 2 major reasons behind this – one was my fascination for England, and especially the aura these universities have, and the other was the almost exotic courses they offer.

So I did get into the IIM’s but I always thought I’d like to attend do course in one of the universities. Now that’s the flashback. Sometime last year, I went through the university websites, almost casually. I did want to study further, preferably something in international relations or development studies, but I had no intention of doing so until I had 2-3 years of work experience behind me. But what started as a casual glance at the websites quickly turned into a deeper interest so I outlined the courses that interested me, my chances of getting into them, course reputation, faculty, future opportunities etc. and finally went ahead and applied.

I applied to M.Sc Global Governance and Diplomacy in Oxford but sadly didn’t get through. I also applied to M.Sc Forced Migration in Oxford but I don’t really want to do the course – I just applied because I could use the same material as the earlier course. So Oxford is ruled out. My only other application was to LSE. I first applied for the M.Sc in Social Policy and Development and got an offer. However, my first interest lay in the M.Sc Development Management course but since it’s a very competitive course, I didn’t think I’d get through and didn’t apply.

However, LSE has this wonderful system where you can change your course after you have an offer. If you don’t get through the new course you opted for, you can always take up your original offer. I was very pleased about this of course, and applied to DevMan and actually got through. I am most most most kicked about this cause Dev Man is a very popular and competitive course – in fact, it is the 3rd course to get filled up and close applications, among the LSE masters courses, after International Relations and Global Politics.

The only nagging worry I have, though, is that I got a mail from Dev Man saying my application has been accepted but I need to decline the SPD offer first in order for them to make an offer. So now it’s been like a month since I declined the SPD offer and haven’t yet received the formal offer letter by post from Dev Man. I’ve mailed them but no response yet so I am kind of worried.
Anyhoo, while my offer is for the September 2007 entry, I won’t be joining this year because I just don’t have the money for it and LSE is VERY expensive. I didn’t apply to scholarships this year for a number of reasons and I don’t really want to take a loan unless I get atleast partial funding, especially since I don’t think I’d be living abroad after the course but coming back to India. So I’m hoping to defer my offer to September 2008 entry, apply more wisely and early to Oxford once again, and give the scholarships my best shot.

I’m also not sure if I want to take a loan and pursue the course if I don’t get any funding. I don’t mind doing it only if I think I’ll live abroad for a year or two after I complete the course. So it all boils down to whether I’m ready to live abroad for 1-2 years after the course, in case I don’t get the scholarship.

So that was the BLPP and once it was successfully completed, I was left feeling pretty aimless on that front for a while now. However, just a few weeks ago, I have started on BLPP 2. It’s taking up as much time and effort as the earlier one and promises to bring about significant changes to my life. This means that every morning I check my mail with sky high expectations for ‘the mail that will change my mail’ but it looks like that mail is going to be a long time coming - not that I really mind because the wait is part of the pleasure.

Anyways, for a number of reasons I need to keep BLPP 2 top secret but am hoping that something will materialize in a month or two. But since I’m an impatient and excitable girl, I can’t really sit around twiddling my thumbs - so I have undertaken another Small Not-so-life-changing Personal Project which shall not have any acronym. I’m going to take part in an essay writing competition with two others. Now I can hear all the sniggering and scoffing, I can, but this is no ordinary essay competition – the prizewinners from last year are all professors, senior guys in think thanks, PhD’s and whatnots – but we are 3 of us who will work on it for the next 3 months and even though we are most unlikely to win anything at all, we will pretend that we have an equally good chance because then it will give us something to do and look forward to.

So that’s how life is right now. There’s lots happening, there’s a lot more in the offing, everything is in a state of flux, I’m reveling in the endless possibilities and the uncertainty of it all. It almost makes up for the utmost rottenness of having to spend summers in Hyderabad AND miss out on munjulu. Dayymnn. But I’m going on a holiday to Darjeeling and Sikkim next week with the family, so all is right with the world – for now.

Truths for Today - Long Rant Post

Warning: Personal rant post which swings from cynical to emotional to clichéd. Proceed further at your own risk.

Some words of wisdom that have been brought home to me today, which I wish to share with others. Do not that I’m not always completely serious.

1. Life sucks, sometimes! It has nothing to do with how you are as a person – it’s always because of your boss, or your family, or your partner or your friends. And since we cannot change anything about them, on those days life sucks accept it. You can try cheering up by eating ice cream, watching a movie, reading a book or talking to your mom. Alternatively, you can make the most of your misery by listening to sad songs, bitching about everyone and writing long rant posts.

2. This is for women only: Men are pigs, all of them, all the time. A good solution could be to see if you are lesbian, I believe that would help. If you’re not, you just have to accept it and move on. Do NOT try and change them for they cannot and will not change. It’s just the way men are so one can’t do anything about it. But please to keep this advice in mind if you are unfortunately falling in love – the man you’re in love with might be handsome, understanding, caring, sensitive, honest, rich, powerful, loyal – but he is a pig, nonetheless.

3. Never let most of your happiness be dependent on one entity. This entity could be work, family, partner, a hobby, money or friends but when you put yourself in a position where a large part of your happiness depends on just one of these entities, you are likely paving your way for future misery. So spread yourself and your passion among all these. You’ll be surprised to see how much you can give and receive from each of these and yet not become vulnerable.

4. Having said the above point, don’t give up on love. I know loving someone more often than not ends up hurting you, more so in the case of romantic love than platonic love. But even if you’re hurt, don’t lose trust and give up on love. Don’t stop loving your work just because you had to do one crappy project recently. Don’t love your family any less just because your parents…well, you know all those awful things parents sometimes do that makes you wish that you were born to another family in some other planet?

5. Remember to live for yourself sometimes. Tell your boss that you don’t want to work on a certain project if you don’t want to. Tell your friends that you will not go shopping with them today because all you want to do is curl up in bed with a book. Tell your partner to hang out with friends or family tonight because you want to meet your old school friend for dinner tonight. And since most times, our parents live for us rather than themselves, encourage them to take time out for themselves once in a while (well, you could buy an SOTC trip to Europe or something for them).

Finally, a secret tip I discovered – as clichéd as it may sound, when you’re unhappy, try doing something for charity. It can brighten your day, even if the happiness is only short lived.

Undergoing a Quarter Life Crisis

So a friend sent us this wikipedia article on the phenomenon called the ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ and at the end of it was a online journal entry on a guy who experiences QLC when he goes to buy a desk at Ikea. Strong funda and brilliant article - http://www.wellingtongrey.net/journal/archive/2006-07-06-quarter-century-crisis.html.

Essentially the QLC is similar to the mid-life crisis – except that it is something that people in their 20’s go through. So it comes with it’s own set of characteristics. But I will also say that right now, QLC is tougher because, as goes this movie dialogue I read somewhere ‘you’re too young and insignificant (and poor, I may add), to buy a sports car and run off with your secretary! Also because it doesn’t have the recognition and acceptance that mid-life crisis has.

But ultimately, it’s tougher because it’s me who is going through this!!

So it’s because of QLC that a lot of us in our 20’s are frustrated with our relationships, with our jobs, with our friends and with our pay packets (oh well, I’ll admit that the frustration with the pay packets is regardless of age). That’s why there is a sense of disappointment, a sense of insecurity, of wanting more, of not knowing what one wants and other such vague ideas and emotions that most 20 year olds go through.

All my life, in school and in college, the next was clear. In school, when a year seemed much much longer than it is now, what I looked forward to in life was simple enough. In pre-kindergarten, I couldn’t wait to get to kindergarten just so I could get a coloured belt with my uniform. In kindergarten, I couldn’t wait to go to the 1st grade to escape my teacher. In 2nd standard, I was desperate to move to the 3rd standard so I could walk home on my own.

And so on it went over the years – each year, there was something to look forward to in the near future. And it made life exciting and wonderful and filled with dreams. In the 10th, we were all deluded into believing that the board results would determine our future so then we spent our entire year looking forward to the rest of our year. In +2, there was college to dream about and look forward to. In college, there was the IIM seat to work towards.

And even in IIMB, which was probably the most carefree and non-ambitious phase of my life, there was the corporate world to look forward to (yes, we did look forward to them – don’t tell me anymore now!). And suddenly, we are in jobs and there isn’t really anything to look forward to. I mean, yeah, there is the monthly pay slip, and the winning of a proposal and the bonus and all but I mean it in the BIG sense – those grand, incredible dreams.

And think of what you’re doing? I mean, I thought I’d become a reasonably well known (okay, fine, world famous) travel writer who earned money for traveling, writing and talking. I imagined my domestic life straight out of a Burlington home shopping catalogue.

I certainly didn’t see myself working on the assessment of the O&M practices of thermal power stations in West Bengal. Or making reports running into hundreds of pages, based on surveys answered by some infrastructure companies. While also managing a laptop with an incurable tendency to get stuck or shut off at the wrong time, an air conditioner which conks off with unfailing regularity, an internet connection which is more down than otherwise and other such hostile working conditions.

And the home? I didn’t dream of an apartment without furniture, a bathroom with faulty drainage, doors without bolts and a maid with an inclination to simply not turn up. So reality is vastly different from what I imagined life @ 23 to be. And yet, I’m happy. Definitely not content and not always satisfied, but mostly happy.

But I’m bewildered – when my life isn’t really close to what I want it to be, why am I happy? Shouldn’t I be striving for more? So people look for job changes, new relationships, and new cities. I decide to apply to some universities to pursue another master’s!

I also fondly indulge in thoughts of going to a gym/aerobics class so I have top-model- with-flat-stomach looks, becoming a director of great movies which no one understands and everyone appreciates, setting up a bookshop and chocolatiere (is that how it is spelt?), so I needn’t do anything but read books and eat chocolates all day. And then work it off later of course. While planning holidays to different destinations worldwide every 2 months.

But the difference this time is that I don’t believe that I’ll actually do most, or some, or even any, of this. These are just idle fantasies, to give me something to look forward to, however unlikely that is. While in our earlier days, we fully expected most of our dreams to be realized. Sighh.

Meanwhile, I will get back to applying for scholarships so that I can actually take up the course!

P.S – And for all those spoilsports who claim that QLC is just something the spoilt and self-indulgent like to imagine, well, so what’s your point?

Of birthdays

I turned 23 yesterday.

Birthdays used to be such a big deal in my childhood and it is very hard to shake off that feeling even now. Since my sisters’ birthday and mine were just 4 days apart, the entire 1-2 weeks before my birthday felt like a run up to some big festival. First came the clothes. Till my 12th birthday, I would wear a ‘pattu langa’ for all my birthday parties. So a few weeks before the birthday, Mom would take out material gifted by an aunt or some relative and ask if I liked it and wanted it stitched. It was on rare occasions that Mom had to go and buy dress material since there was so much ‘pattu silk’ material gifted over the years to both of us skids on various occasions.

Anyways, since I didn’t have much of a taste in ‘pattu’ silk or its stitching, I went along with whatever Mom suggested. Then came my second dress which was going to be a lovely frock – all lace and satin and velvet. If Mom happened to go to Madras, Bombay or Calcutta or some other big city on work in the month or two before our birthdays, she made sure she got us dresses from there since the variety was so much wider. Sometimes, we had to buy it in Vizag only but that was a trying time for my Mom. I was especially fussy and made sure we toured every single shop in the city and checked out their stuff before I finally liked something enough to buy it.

When we were slightly older, Samee and I would like the same dress and squabble over who was going to buy it. It was unthinkable that we wore the same kind of dress for our birthdays! But then, she had the advantage that her birthday was earlier. I remember a lovely pink creation of lace and satin I wore for my 7th birthday – I think it was one of the most delicate and beautiful pieces of clothing I ever owned. It then cost a grand 400 and all the teachers in school commented on how pretty it was and everyone I knew raved over it and in all it was a very satisfying birthday.

Once the clothes were done, my Mom would take us to a cards store where we could choose to pick up our invitation cards set. Over the next couple of days, Samee and I would make a list of the people we wanted to invite for our birthdays and show it to Mom and she would edit it, usually to add relatives, family friends and neighbours. We were then asked to write the names of the invitees, the birthday date, time and venue and our own names in the invitation cards. It was such fun – and the best part was that we actually set aside 1-2 evening to go all over the neighbourhood and invite everyone.

Next on the list of things to do was the menu. Since I was easily bored and my childhood war cry was ‘Boru Koduthundhi’, my family devised various ways and means to keep me occupied. My aunt hit upon discussing my ‘birthday party menu’ whenever there was a danger of my getting bored. So when we came down to actually deciding on a menu, it was a fairly easy job and though I was made to feel like it was all my decision, I didn’t have much of a say in that matter. Once the menu was decided, Mom would take us to the bakery where we would go through endless photos of cakes while Mom would sigh but wait patiently, then fight because usually we ended up liking the same cake again and finally make a decision.

The next step was shopping for ready to eat stuff on the menu such as chips, sauce etc. And of course, toffees to be distributed in school. My secret ambition was to distribute the small 5 stars or the little mini Diary Milks which came in small boxes and were available only in imported goods stores but my Mom always refused. Then I assumed it was because it was very expensive and we couldn’t afford it so I didn’t mind at all – now I realise it was probably because my Mom was as usual following rules to the book for the school diary instructs parents to make sure children give only ‘token toffees’ (or some such very strange term that only our school could have used). Anyways, I always, every single time, bought a pack of Coffee Bite and a pack of Eclairs.

Then finally D day would arrive. I’d be woken up early in the morning and my aunt would always be the first person to call and wish me. Then I’d have a head bath, eat breakfast, wear my pretty new dress and insist on clipping my hair instead of the usual braids, and if I had stockings to wear, nothing like it and I’d set off to school. During some period before the break, the teacher would ask me to come forward and stand next to her table while the rest of the class stood up and sang ‘Happy Birthday to You’.

When I look back on that moment, over the many years, in different classrooms, with different teachers and with different classmates, I think every single time some 40 odd students in the class stood up to sing to me, I can see myself visibly puffing up. I felt so pretty in my new clothes and shoes and stockings, the teacher was smiling at me, everyone was singing for me with huge grins and everything felt just right and the way it should be. Then I’d hold up the box for the teachers to take the toffees and then distribute it to the whole class – 2 on each table, one of each kind.

Then I’d choose my best friend in the class to accompany me to do the rounds. Now this choosing of a friend always involved a lot of politics. All the girls always wanted to be called to accompany somebody on their birthday and the birthday person could take only one friend. So during the run up to the person’s birthday there would be many reaffirmations of friendship in the hope that one was going to be chosen to accompany the birthday girl. I don’t know why the honour of accompanying the birthday girl was considered a big deal – maybe we considered it an indication that we were the girls best friend and this was important at an age where we counted who had the most friends and maybe it was a public acknowledgement of the girls popularity – it is probably a sampler of the behaviour girls indulging in when a bride is choosing her bridesmaids from her friends!

Since I always had more than one equally close friend, I dreaded having to make the choice on my own birthday. To make things worse, with my birthday being almost at the end of the academic year, I would have been the ‘Chosen One’ for more than one birthday girl and they would be expecting me to return the favour. For almost every single birthday, I would request my teacher if I could take more than one and be refused, resulting in hurting some friend. But I’d quickly get over the guilt by going to the principals and then to each section of the class and the staff rooms to offer chocolates to the teachers and thank them when they inevitably commented on how pretty I looked or how lovely my dress was – we didn’t realise then that they were just being nice so we took the compliments at face value and got totally kicked about it, storing away some specially nice compliments in our memory for future recounting.

Sometimes, the birthday girl would ask the teacher in some other section to ask for her friend in that section to come up and take chocolates and the friend would come with a grin she could hide and an attitude which said ‘Look, I know the birthday girl!’. I bet none of us ever con concentrated in class when it was our birthday or even that of a friend, not that I personally concentrated in class at any other time also. So birthdays were a big, lovely, ego massaging event at school from which I came with an almost empty box of chocolates and great excitement for the party ahead.

But now I will have to rush or I’ll be late for ‘Honeymoom Travels Pvt. Ltd.’ so maybe I’ll follow up on this post some other time. Ciao, dear reader.

P.S: I just noticed that sadly, this post has a hell a lot of tense continuity errors (if there is such a term) and glaring grammatical errors. I am most upset.