Much Ado about Nothing

It’s been exactly four weeks since we moved to Hyderabad and my social life has gone from busy to incredibly hectic. In the last four weeks I have:

•  Met up with friends from my college gang thrice
•  Hung out with S, my best friend from college, about half a dozen times
•  Hung out with Gundu, my best friend from school, about half a dozen times, and     even met his friends here
•  Met KK for lunch
•  Hung out with Mahi, my cousin, quite a bit
•  Spent three Sundays at Pinni’s place, one of which was spent helping organise a suprise birthday party for Babai’s 50^th. Also spent time with cousins and Samee, who came down to Hyderabad for the party.
•  Saw five movies at the cinema – Ala Modalaindi, Rio, Teen Maar, Dum Maaro Dum and Shor in the City
•  Shopped lost – spent one day buying formal wear, another buying a desk and a bookshelf and finally a HTC Desire HD for Nike.
•  Helped the in-laws host a dinner at their place (by help I really mean I made conversation with the guests!). Also attended dinner at Nike’s Maami’s place once.
•  Went out for dinner alone with Nike twice.

Yes, all this in just four weeks. I also managed to see a couple of movies at home and read two books. Far from being tired, I thrive in the midst of so much social activity. On a day when I come home after meeting friends for coffee, I’m hyperactive. On a day when I come home directly from work, I’m all tired and need to take a short nap before I can bring myself to sit down for dinner and make conversation.

Now I have an equal number of friends, if not more, in Bangalore. But my life wasn’t a whirlwind of so much activity there, and generally, Nike and I spent a lot more time just by ourselves than we did with friends. The key difference here is that almost all my friends in Bangalore are married; in contrast I have only one married friend in Hyderabad. And in terms of ‘hanging out’ unmarried friends are much better than married friends, atleast in my experience (Like I keep telling my married friends, I’m just going to make friends only with younger, unmarried people from now on. The first question I will ask people is “Are you under 25 and unmarried”. If yes to both, only then will I consider the possibility of becoming friends with them. Of course, I’m aware that if everyone decided to use these criteria, I‘d be no one’s friend). 


I'm now ending this completely pointless post (because the rest of my posts were educative, informative and inspiring. Duh) here without even editing it because I want to put it up on the blog before midnight so that it shows that I've written TWO blog posts in April. Score!

The Last Ten Years

This past decade has been quite eventful for me – I left home for college, I met people who would become some of my best friends, my long held ambition of going to one of the country’s best b-schools was fulfilled, I fell in and out of love, I met the guy who I would eventually marry, I became financially independent, I learnt to love the work I was doing, and I also found the courage to leave behind a steady job and income to do something else. Phew! So much of my life till now took place in the last 10 years!

So today I decided I am going to write about the five most important lessons I’ve learnt in the last 10 years, with the hope that the lessons I’ve learnt in this past decade will serve me in good stead in the next decade.

·           It’s okay if things don’t happen the way you planned. I was all set to go to Delhi for undergrad when an unexpected setback saw me end up in Hyderabad. I was miserable there for the first year because things didn’t turn out the way they had planned. Once I managed to let go of my misery, I actually enjoyed myself in Hyderabad. And made friends who till date remain some of my best friends, people who are among the first I turn to in times of trouble and need or in times of happiness – and for that reason, I am so grateful that life didn’t go the way I had planned.

When I didn’t get into IIMA, I was rather upset because that’s where I had planned to be. Now, if I could turn back time, nothing would induce me to go anywhere except be, for how would I have met Nike otherwise? And these two experiences have taught me that life will not go as I’ve planned it and that sometimes, for reasons unknown to us, that’s for the best!

·           Sometimes it’s best to learn to let go. While I get along easily with people I meet for the first time, I take a long time to make friends. But once someone is a friend, they are a friend for life. I’m the kind of person who will forgive a friend anything, and hang on tenaciously to the friendship. However, over the past few years, I’ve learnt to let go of friends when I felt they aren’t interested anymore. And it’s been a hard lesson to learn. When I think of the friends who aren’t really friends anymore, for various reasons, it breaks my heart – and yet, I no longer have it in me to doggedly keep up a one-sided friendship.

·           You aren’t always the person you think you are. Because I was confident and outgoing, I always thought of myself as a strong person. And then, when I was 20, I landed myself in a very difficult situation. And instead of responding like a strong person would, I ended up reacting in a most lily-livered fashion. Looking back on that event, there are so many things I wish I had done differently. But most of all, I was shattered by how weak my behaviour was through the whole episode – it was like seeing a new side of me that didn’t exist, and I wasn’t proud of me.

And while the biggest take-away from that entire episode was that I promised myself that I would be a stronger, braver person, it also made me understand myself better, forced me to acknowledge some of my (many, many) shortcomings, and work on them.

·           It’s not alright to not be able to take care of yourself.  All my life, I stressed so much on women being financially independent that I never thought about people being independent. When I left home 10 years ago, I’d never done anything by myself – never went to the store to buy fruits/vegetables/groceries, never carried luggage, never cooked, never did any household chores, never paid any bills, nothing! Living in a small city with well-connected parents and in a home with adequate household help can do that to you.

But the worst part was that I was actually proud of it. Proud that I was pampered and cosseted. The years have taught me better. I’ve learnt that it’s not enough to be financially independent, that one has to be able to take care of oneself too, in order to be independent in the true sense.

·           Live for today.  This is a philosophy I picked up along the way to adulthood. And it’s a philosophy I endorse completely. Sure, I look forward to the future with eagerness and anticipation. And I look back on the past with fondness and nostalgia. And yet, I live for today – I believe in making the most of now, and this has made me a very, very happy and a very content person.

And that’s the end of class for today folks. ;-) I’m going to leave you with this song.

Things You REALLY Don't Want to Know

The last two weeks have been fantastic in terms of all the things I’ve got to do. So I’m going to put it all down here to read the next time I moan about how I’m so bored, or how I want a change. Then I can be reminded of how full my life is in Bangalore.

Two weeks ago, went home for Ma’s 50^th. The day I came back to Bangalore, I fell ill. Nike very sweetly worked from home the whole week, so I would have someone to moan to about how sick I was and how I was going to just die. Of course, my impending death did not stop me from devouring the Millennium Trilogy that week.

Just as I got better, Nike’s mother was admitted to the hospital and we had to rush to Hyderabad. In a hospital, all my hitherto deeply buried masochistic tendencies come out in full force – I look at every suffering patient and try to imagine how I would feel in their position – and since I am a total wuss, the vision that emerges is far from pretty. Anyway, since this isn’t all about me (ahem!)  - Nike’s mother responded well to the medicines and was discharged.

Once back in Bangalore, we saw Udaan, a beautiful movie, with very interesting characterisation (with the exception of the Dad, who was painted all black). It is a ‘follow your dreams’ story but told with its sense of humour and light-heartedness very much intact so it never gets preachy. The movie was at PVR so we had dinner at Bombay Blues at Transit after that, and the food was AWFUL.

The next day, had lunch with the girls at Grill Room. The place is right opposite the Gurudwara on Ulsoor, and has a great lunch buffet. Do try it if you are around that area. The Friday before last we had a girl’s night out at Vids place. Lux, Eku, Vids and I. We had a blast, eating and drinking and singing and dancing and chatting.

Saturday was spent recovering from the excesses of the previous night. Girish was in Bangalore on Sunday, so went with Kat and Girish to the Chancery Pavillion for Sunday Brunch. 1200 bucks for unlimited food and drinks – fantastic spread – worth every single paisa. Go! All that eating and drinking business left us too exhausted to do anything for two days, after which we went to Inception. What. A. Movie. Stayed up all night discussing it; and started where we left off the next morning. It’s going to require some more viewings before I can decide on what I think happened.

So that was the week before last. This Friday, went to Kat’s place. We then met up with Hetro and Yola for drinks and dinner, and then went to Hetro place where we saw a marathon session of ‘Coupling’. On Saturday, we had Indu and Kumara over for lunch. But since we didn’t wake up when the cook came, rang the bell endlessly and left, Nike had to rush and buy the chicken and do the cooking himself, while I restored the house to some semblance of order. After they left, we saw ‘Body of Lies’ on television, went shopping at Lifestyle (my loots: maroon skirt, black waistcoat, blue and red checked top and two pairs of shoes), and finished with dinner at Chakum Chakum.

On Sunday, went for a haircut. Actually went in thinking of a trim, but I don’t know what got into me once I sat in the chair, but I made her chop it all off! I’m going to Hyderabad again next week, and am already dreading the reaction from the family. Anyway, Lux had invited the whole gang over for a traditional south Indian dinner at her place on Sunday night, so we all dressed up in Sarees (the women did; the men wore kurtas). Played some really weird games, laughed uproariously at Lux’s expense, thulped yummy food till I thought I would burst, and came home with gifts the girl had got us from Rajasthan.

The last  3 days have been super super busy at work. So all I’ve had the time for till now is Aisha with the girls. Maybe I went in with really low expectations, but the movie wasn’t so bad. It was actually fun watching it with the girls – oohhing over the outfits and shoes, rolling our eyes together at all the nonsense some of the characters do, aahhing over Abhay Deol – it’s great fun to watch a chick flick with your girlfriends.

Phew! That’s been the scene in my universe for the last two weeks. Tomorrow I’m off on a holiday. A girls needs time off from all this socialising. Tata.

In Which We Go Shopping

While I was in Hyderabad last week, there was a flat 50% weekend sale happening at UCB. Just the week before, I’d seen a lovely black and grey balloon skirt at the UCB store on Commercial Street, but couldn’t afford it in my current penniless state. The sale was the perfect opportunity. And thus we chased the sale across Hyderabad – starting from Dilsukh Nagar, proceeding to Himayatnagar, Somajiguda, Banjara Hills all the way up to Jubilee Hills – but I was met with disappointment, as none of the stores had that skirt, or even anything else remotely interesting.

I did buy a pretty yellow summery top at the UCB sale though. And I bought a pair of pale pink denim shorts at Promod.

Gundu and Nike, who were dragged happily came shopping with me asked "But where are you going to wear them?"

“Kovalam” I said brightly (this is where, gentle and unassuming reader, I let slip in that I’m going to the Leela in Kovalam for the weekend after. I’m subtle like that.)

But boys being boys, they asked in unison “But what will you do with them after you’re back from Kovalam?”

“Oh, I will wear them in Goa. Also in Thailand, and Vietnam, and Rio, and other beach places” I say, with the air of one from whom jet-setting to glamorous beaches across the world in a pair of sexy pink shorts is a way of life.

“But....but...you aren’t going to Goa. Or any of those other beach places” stammers Nike, clearly seeing visions of me gallivanting around the world by blowing up his hard earned money.....well, his earned money, anyway.

“I know I'm not. But what if I win a contest for a one week beach holiday? I’m going to need something to wear when I go there, right?”

And thus I sashayed my way to the billing counter, pleased as peach (or is it plum?) with my foresight. Now bring on that free beach holiday dahlings!

Weekends, Football and Other Stuff

It’s tough to appreciate something when you have too much of it. And given all the free time I’ve had lately, I’d forgotten to appreciate weekends. I KNOW! But this weekend changed all that, for I had been very busy the whole of the last week, rushing to meetings, and spending about 2 hours a day in commuting; and so Friday saw me very tired, and quite looking forward to the weekend.

And what a glorious, lovely weekend it was!

On Friday, Nike’s cousin came over from Hyderabad to spend a couple of days with us. We drove down to IIMB, Nike showed her around the campus, and then we sat down to doughnuts and coffee at the campus CCD. Many of my campus memories are tied to the CCD (erm, not in terms of “oh, remember that best doughnut I ate, ever, was at the campus CCD” but more along the lines of “ooohh, remember when we were sitting at the CCD and such and such a thing happened”) so it always makes me feel warm-fuzzy-nostalgic when I go back there.

I spent the rest of the day in IIMB on work and came back home in time for the Netherlands – Brazil match. This match saw the addition of soft drinks to the usual collection of beers, breezers and popcorn, thanks to the visiting cousin. I was rooting for the Dutchmen, so that match ended on a very satisfying note. Though I must admit that the brightness of their orange jerseys sometimes makes me wonder why I am supporting them, for such bright orange jerseys. Must. Be. Outlawed.

Having helped the Oranje win, I turned my attention to Nadal on the internet. (Dear gazillion sports channels: Given there are so many of you that every other channel seems to feature sports through the rest of the year, why is it that not one you is showing Wimbledon and leaving the football reruns to the competition? WHY?). Of course, given his form, Nadal didn’t need my help (or anyone else’s either), and I felt rather sorry for Murray at the end of it all. He had me worried in the beginning with his shaky form, but now he looks unbeatable. Oh, but I LOVE Rafa.

I was hoping this stroke of wins would continue and Ghana would prevail over Uruguay; but thanks to Luis Suarez’s ugly handball, that was not to be. Well, you can’t win ‘em all. Still, no prizes for guessing who I’m going to be supporting in the Holland – Uruguay match, despite the orange jerseys.

Saturday morning was lazily spent dozing over the newspaper. Post-lunch we sat down to Jeopardy and Scrabble. Once that was done, frenetic calls were made, and much planning and cancelling and conferencing happened before a dozen of us finally headed out to Zero G to see the Germany – Argentina match. All that planning paid off because Zero G was perfect - the screen was HUGE, the layout of the place is such that you can sit almost anywhere and get a good view of the screen, it was filled with an enthusiastic crowd, yet it was not so crowded that we had to strain to see, and it is reasonably priced.

The only downside was that they were not playing the commentary. But all in all, I think Zero G was an excellent choice; and any other place would have been too crowded/ too expensive/ too difficult to get good seats/ standing space only/not such a large screen. Also, I was going back there after 3 years, and the place looks very nice indeed now that it has been refurbished.

Now back to the match, I couldn’t quite make up my mind who to support. I was leaning towards Argentina, I even had a bet on Messi; but after the Germany – England match, it’s very hard not to root for a team that played such entertaining football. And whatttayyy match this was! Germany was fantastic, simply fantastic. It was such a pleasure to watch them play. Even hard-core Argentina supporters would find it difficult to not admire the way the Germans played, and totally outclassed the Argentines.

Oh, by the way, four years ago, I was at Bottles and Chimney in Hyderabad for the Argentina – Germany World Cup match, and felt like I was the sole German supporter in a pub filled with Argentina fans.

Anyway, once the match ended, we headed out to the Chancery Pavilion for a poolside FIFA party. The party started out rather slowly, but at some point the DJ started playing Bollywood, and the dance floor started filling up. Speaking of which, I just don’t get this whole ‘Bollywood music, ugh!’ thing that most DJs have going. I mean, clearly it’s the Bollywood numbers that get the crowd onto the dance floor, so why do DJs insist on turning their collective nose up on Bollywood and playing numbers nobody really wants to dance to?

Is this only a Bangalore phenomenon, or is this true of the clubbing scene in other cities too? Fair peoples of other cities, kindly lend me your wisdom on whether it’s the same scenario in your city too or if Bollywood gets the respect it deserves as THE music to play on club nights. Okay, end of rant.

So coming back to the party, which was in full swing by this time, with people jumping into the pool and all. We got into the spirit of the things and jumped into the pool too, and started splashing about in tune, or something, to the music. This was the best part of the party, it was awesomely awesome, and when I become rich I’m going to have a swimming pool in my house and have pool parties ALL THE TIME. The short term plan though is to make friends with someone who does have a pool already so we can have pool parties there. Any of you out there reading this right now?

After I got out of the pool, I went to the restroom, and this girl in there saw me dripping wet and actually asked ‘Are you sweating so much from all that dancing?’ Huh? HUH? Seriously, woman, what were you smoking?

We left the party early, and after a quick stopover at Empire to pick up dinner, we headed home to watch the Spain – Paraguay match and play Taboo. However, everyone was rather tired, so people gradually dropped off to sleep, and no one watched Villa score for Spain.

Sunday saw friends over for lunch, and then out to the Leela for bowling. A visit to the Leela must necessarily include a stop at the Barista, so a round of bowling (and air hockey and foosball and insert –name-of-random-shooting-game) was followed by a tall glass of Swiss Mocha Frappe. Then it was on to Brigade Road for some people watching. Oh, and at some store in Brigade I came across this very cute pair of light pink cargos. Now I’m not a cargos girl at all, but this one was on sale for 125 buck, yes, a HUNDER AND TWENTY FIVE BUCKs ONLY, and it fit well and looked good, and I wouldn’t be a girl if I passed that one up, so of course I didn’t (pass it up, that is).

Also, a momos counter has opened near the Nilgiris on Brigade - veg momos for 25 bucks and chicken momos for 30 bucks. Not bad at all, especially considering I don’t know where else in Bangalore momos are available by the roadside; and if YOU know, please, please drop me a line, and you shall earn my eternal gratitude (unless you’re suggesting some place in HSR Layout/Jayanagar/Whitefield or such other far off places to which one can’t go just to eat a plate of momos by the roadside, as much as one loves a plate of momos by the roadside). We then went to Donut Baker for donuts doughnuts. Damn you, America! I love their chocolate fudge doughnuts, as well as their plain honey dipped doughnuts – do give them a try.

We headed home to watch Rafa lift the cup. Did I say I LOVE Rafa? The weekend couldn’t have ended on a more perfect note!

ToW the Curls

For the longest time ever, I’ve wanted to have curly hair. As a kid, when I made up these fantastic stories in my head, ALL my heroines had curly hair (and dimples). Those were the two things I wanted desperately. And a twin brother. I even fantasised about ‘lost in Kumbh Mela’ and ‘stolen in hospital’ type scenarios, and fully expected to be reunited with my long lost twin brother any given day! Yes, I was a dangerously imaginative child, which wasn’t very pleasant for my parents.

Anyway, I digress. Now my fascination with curly hair continued even as I grew up (as did my fascination for a twin, but I had to accept that nothing was going to come out of that). In my teens, I thought all the girls with curly hair were cute. And as I grew out of my teens, I thought all the girls with curly hair were hot – looking hot having only recently become acceptable for my then extremely prudish and conservative taste.

A couple of years ago, as I was leaving for Europe for four months, it struck me that this was the best time for me to get my hair permed, because even if I looked like a wild pseudo-African, my friends and family wouldn’t see me in this strange new avatar. And so extensive plans were made. I found about salons in Bombay, made an appointment, and booked an early morning flight from Hyderabad to Mumbai (my flight from Mumbai to Milan was later that night). I put my luggage in the left-luggage counter at the airport and headed straight for the salon.­

As I waited for the stylist to arrive at the salon, it started raining, heavily. Now the salon was at the basement level, and the water slowly started filling in. Now this was in September 2005, just one month after the terrible Mumbai floods, and so no one was taking any chances. The salon shut down and I was out on the street. By then, it was pouring cats and dogs, it was getting impossible to get taxis or autos, and I had no friends in Mumbai! Thankfully, I managed to get in touch with a senior, find a taxi, go to the senior’s office and pick up her house keys, and then go to her place, where I spent the rest of the day watching TV and drying myself, till it was time for my flight in the night.

After that, I never got around to doing it. It was too expensive in Europe of course. And when I came back, it was too close to placement season to experiment with my hair. And then I had a job and I didn’t want to experiment and look unprofessional. And so ended my curly hair dream.

But now, I quit work a couple of months ago. And I had pretty long hair since I had been growing it out for over a year now. A friend suggested that this was the best time to revive my long held dreaming of getting my hair permed. And so I went about planning it with a vengeance – I called about a dozen salons, and followed up with personal visits to half a dozen of these. I made Samee run around a couple of salons in Hyderabad. I tried putting my photo on various hair styles on the internet. Finally, I shortlisted a salon and made an appointment.

As d-day arrived, I suddenly took it into my head that I would start looking Mallu, and I almost cancelled my appointment – not that I really have anything against Mallus, just that I don’t want to look like one; I don’t want to look Gult either, for that matter. (Who do I want to look like, you ask? Priyanka Chopra, if I had the choice, but since I clearly don’t, it’s just not worth discussing the question).

Okay, where was I? Yeah, the salon. So after three hours of the stylist wearing thick gloves and doing scary looking things to my hair, I emerged with long curly hair! Since this happened just two days ago, I think it is imperative that I share this fabulous news with the whole world. And so, dear reader, say hello the curls.

I’m twenty – bloody – five years old. And it shows in my lifestyle. Somewhere along the years, I’ve slowly but surely shed my student persona and become a fully grown adult. While some habits and attitudes I’ve developed are about growing older, some are plainly about being old fashioned. Here are some clear signs of both:

• The first and clearest warning is my complete aversion to SMS lingo. I simply cannot stand it. Even when I am texting, I painstakingly type out most words in full, with capitals and punctuations in place (which explains why I am not into texting at all). I’m trying to break out of this habit, and I’ve learnt to accept the ‘i tol d bss im sik bt m actlly wtchng d mtch bt dnt tll nebdy tht n gt ppcrn n ppsi n cum ovr aftr wrk’ as my lot in life. But when I get emails and chat messages from people in this new language, I have to force myself to take deep breaths, count to 10,000 and then prepare to read the mail/ message.
• My reluctance to embrace social networking the way most of my friends do is the clearest indicator that I’m old fashioned. Sure, I’m on Orkut and Facebook. But I visit them about once in 2 weeks. I usually look upon these visits as a boring chore, where I try and respond to the messages in my inbox/scrapbook/ wall, return ‘visits’ from friends, leave the occasional comment on photos and status updates and get the hell outta there. As for twitter, I signed up a long time ago and have mercifully forgotten all about it. Yeah, I’m going to be one of those old fogeys who doesn’t tweet. Seriously, I’m amazed at how people find the time!
• This new found desire to spend my Sundays doing absolutely nothing but roll about in bed with a book all day, watch endless reruns of friends, sleep like a bear in hibernation, and get my lazy ass off the bed only in the evening for a shower, and an hour or so at the Barista/CCD on MG Road before I head home to hit the sack – this is an alarmingly clearly sign of my growing old. Sure, Saturdays are hectic – I reserve my Saturdays for shopping, watching plays, catching up on friends and partying – but earlier, Sundays were an extension of my Saturdays – now they are my day of rest and recuperation.
• I talk about working out and ‘being fit’. Now don’t be silly, I don’t actually work out. But I do talk about joining aerobics class and working out. Everyday I walk into office with my gym outfit and trainers and cool sippy-type sports water bottle, all determined to join the aerobics class thisveryday, but inevitably find urgent high-priority work to finish at 6pm, sadly forcing me to miss the class. My student persona never even talked about working out, leave alone carrying out this whole farce for delusional self-gratification.
• My adult persona has a hidden cleanliness freak inside! Who would’ve though? She is not, let us be clear on this, any where close to Monica like behaviour. We are talking about cleanliness freak by my standards – its all relative! So now I actually keep the clothes in my cupboard neatly pressed and folded (instead of a haphazard mess from which I pick u whatever fall out first to wear as the outfit of the day), I mostly put things back in their place, and my living room and bedroom are largely neat and tidy on any given day!
  Now that I have proved I am grown up, have exposed myself for being quaintly old fashioned, I feel the urge to stand up for my student persona, to claim that she hasn’t completely given up one me either. But then, that’s another post for another day!

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?