Resistance is Futile

Well what do you know.

I'm used to people looking at me like I am a new species of bacteria under the microscope. Make that a mentally deranged, smug bacteria. All because I am not doing anything IT related and did not take up engineering like most of my friends did.

What I am not used to is having this IT stuff creep into my brain stealthily such that I suddenly begin to talk fairly intelligibly about it and have people give me 'Wow! How on earth did you know that? WHY do you know that?' looks. I mean! It's nice, this near-respect I am getting but I guess the only explanation would be that I am Indian and we Indians are born with this stuff coded into our brains and in our genes. I am telling them that. I so am.

And despite making an active effort to not spend too much time on the computer, keeping my laptop in the living room and not switching it on every evening when I get home from work, not blogging half as much, guess what? I apparently still spend a lot of time with computers.

Recently, it dawned on me that heard the typical routine hum of a computer, (like when it comes on after being on stand-by?) rather regularly. One fine day it happened and there was no computer in sight. Turns out it was me.

:|

Edited to add: Okay so I don't get MATLAB even now but so what? :P

Of Great Bosses and Good-byes

My boss left the company yesterday after five years of working here, to follow his dreams.

Now I know many people can only ever complain about their bosses but I am not one of them. I have always been fortunate enough to have bosses who have been nice, patient, kind and easygoing.

DH though was something else again. It's astonishing just how much one can get used to someone in the space of just two years, even if all you're doing is seeing them for eight hours everyday when you work, sharing very little of anything of your life beyond work.

And now that the new one is here and I have to occasionally offer a little help regarding how things function here, I am surprised at just how much I seem to be speaking and behaving like the old one! I guess I am easily influenced then. But really lucky I had someone like DH to be influenced by.

So DH, here's to you. Here's to people like you and bosses like you. May your kind flourish! You really were the best boss I have ever had. Thank you for everything, you've taught me well and I hope you feel proud for having done so. It seems a little strange without you around. you will be missed a whole lot. But I hope you have a fantastic life and that all your dreams come true.

It's only been a day so it's still too early but I'm hoping to get the New Boss settle into a routine of the occasional random chat in the middle of work very soon. I'm not having some things change if I can help it ;)

Against All Odds

Heart-wrenching sobs. They’d stop for about five seconds and then start afresh, more intense than before. It had been like this for a few days now. Even by her standards this was quite bad. And all for someone who had so not been worth it. Hell, she’d seen them all and this one had been the worst of the lot, no kidding. Lord knows how she fell or him or any of the others. All those sweet nothings and hours of meaningless promises perhaps. You’d think she’d have learned to err on the side of caution by now, but no. She continued down the same path, up again after another fall, oblivious to past mistakes and learning, forgetting what had transpired. You could almost have admired her ability to pick herself up, dust herself off and carry on, but honestly, after a time, it started to appear stupid.

Sila. Surely it was some sort of a sick joke. It was a name that seemed designed to invite trouble. Oh it also attracted men by the droves. But maybe it was fate that only the defective of that lot seemed to win the lottery that was Sila. Till they wasted it, of course. Sila of the virtues that the most exacting of people would be pleased with. Sila.

Dark eyes watched Sila. Eyes that flashed with anger. When they were not looking stormy with trying to accommodate the million emotions they felt on seeing her bunched like this, crying fit to die of sadness. Eyes that held a lot of love for her and some other emotion which seemed to be locked away, an emotion that you could spot if you looked out of the corner of your eye but was out of reach when you tried to focus. One that would always only be a sort of frission, never a concrete tangible thing. At least to the world, because the possessor of those eyes knew exactly what it was.

Tidying up the table of stray books, she gave vent to a sigh that had been lurking within for a while. And allowed her thoughts to run because reining them anymore threatened her stability.

How had she landed in this mess? It was difficult enough for most people in her situation but she’d gone several steps ahead and gotten enmeshed in a snafu that took the cake. Not that one could really ever have a say in these things. It had been hard enough realizing she was lesbian. Coming out to the people who mattered had been another hurdle altogether. But that had been dealt with and she’d received unconditional support from those who mattered, Sila included. Which had been wonderful. Until of course, things changed.

Love is hard at the best of times. But try being lesbian and then try being in love with your best friend. Who is most definitely NOT a lesbian. If that isn’t enough, try simply having to stand-by while said best friend goes about fantastically fucking up her life by going out with all the wrong men and having her heart broken more or less incessantly (Men weren’t all bad, strange perhaps but there were a decent few around. But WHY did she have to end up seeing all the pond-scum samples?!!). Try having to do nothing but offer a shoulder and a hanky and cups of hot chocolate and staying up nights while she weeps down the phone. And try having to sit through the worst kind of romantic comedies. And when that is over, try having to live trough another round of blush-giggle-gush-he’s so awesome!-I’m in love!-yada-yada until (sigh) the cycle turns around and it’s back to the weeping heartbreak. Rinse and repeat. And all this while, try having to work really really really hard at having to keep that overpowering rush of love you feel for her under check. Try having to live in so checked a manner that even when senseless drunk, that one part of you stays locked up in a straitjacket with duct tape over your mouth.

There wasn’t a guarantee that she and Sila would have never quarreled and lived a happy life forever. It wasn’t that she thought Sila had a better chance with her than any man. It was just that she loved Sila. Truly, madly, deeply, overwhelmingly … inexplicably.

Sila. She was bound to have the world fall in love with her. And her best friend just happened to be a part of it.

Des-crimination

One of my dearest chums D (not popular blogger D, another D I know in person and has been mentioned here before) has started blogging recently and sweetly wrote me a guest post (seeing as how of late I find it hard to come up with two lines worthy of being written down). Off you go to read that:

Thanks DewD for the honour of writing a guest post for you! [Aw man, too much credit you give me! The pleasure's all mine babe, thank YOU! :)]

So here it rolls -

A couple of months ago, I was in Mumbai. One evening I went to catch up with some old friends, had dinner and returned home in a rickshaw.

So it was 10.30pm, and as we approached my street, the driver, in his late 30s, pointed at my building.

Driver: Is that where you need to get off?
Me: Yes
Driver: See! I knew it! How do you think I know?
Me: Have you been here before? (Mr. Desperadooooooooo)
Driver: No. (Waits for me to guess again)
I have no interest in playing games at this point, so
Me: Then?
Driver: I can tell everything about the passenger just by looking at them. It comes with experience in our profession. All the 'hi-fi' people who come to this locality live in that building. That's how I know you live there.
Bloody show off! Although at this point I was tempted to lead him into making a fool of himself.
Me:Oh wow, you've got good skills
Driver: (enthusiastic now) Let me explain. For example, do you know 'Brahmand society'? I can look at a passenger and know that's where they want to go. Because people living in that society are all dark and fat. You know, the typical SOUTH INDIAN types.

WTF???!!!!

Being a south-Indian myself, I am offended at this point although I don't fit into his description. I could have given him a lecture, got into an arguement, spoken about being an Indian first and make him bite his words. Well, I choose not to. I decide to play along and teach him a lesson, in a way that he might hopefully understand.

Me: (with a very serious voice) Do you mean to say all south-Indians are dark and fat?
There is a 5-second awkward silence.
Driver:(with a scared, shaky voice) Madam, are you a south Indian?
By this time, I have got down, and searching for my wallet in my handbag
Me:(with a sarcastic chuckle) Well, it looks like you don't know everything about your passengers after all...
Driver: Sorry madam. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Please. Sorry. Actually I had not looked at you well enough, otherwise I would not have said that
Me:(but you still would have opined that throughout your life! Anyway, since you apologised...) Its OK.
Driver: (hesitating)So are you a south Indian?
Me: (handing him the fare) No
The smile of relief on his face would have brought tears of joy to his loved ones!
Driver: Thank God!
Me: (before turning and walking away in a stern voice and a straight face) I was kidding. I am what you guys would call an 'Idli sambar'. I am neither dark nor fat. (I hope you learnt your lesson today.)

His facial muscles tightened, eyes wide in horror. As I enter the elevator with this expression as my compensation, I hear another 'Sorry Madam' yelled in the background.

He was not a bad person. Neither are many. What they have is an opinion. A racist opinion. Thrusted and imposed on them by society, friends, family. Every racial group or clan has a tag - cheaters, misers, bad-dressers, cunning, and so on. Proposals are rejected in arranged marriages openly because of the skin colour. All this is inflicted by none other than fellow country-men. And we mock other countries for being racist.

How do we change this?

Romance

is like hosting a good dinner party. It's important to have the correct ambience, company, music, conversation et al. But long after the first taste of food has elicited oohs and aahs of appreciation, there must be plenty left over for seconds and thirds.

Sunday Night Reliever

One dissertation-crazed housemate.

One dog - pining for its masters and otherwise acting bonkers.

One more housemate, melancholy as can be.

A bunch of yellow calla lilies on the table, arranged haphazardly but looking cheerful and pretty.

Take two mugs. Spoon a hot chocolate mix from different brands in them and throw in a chunk of dark chocolate with hazelnuts for that magic kick. Pour in hot water and turn the mugs into containers of magic potion.

Play random romantic songs from hindi movies.

Crunch on the hazelnuts and sip on the chocolate goodness. Ahhh bliss!

Oh hang on, there's no excitement.

Right.

Cue housemate making minor whimpering sounds while pointing in horrified fascination at the huge-ass spider that's crawling across the carpet. Interrupt chocolate slurping to throw book on spider and squish it. Excitement over, back to chocolate.

NOW it's perfect.

Heal the world

I am sick of the world I happen to be living in. Sick of corrupt governments. Sick of the rich and famous abusing their wealth for selfish reasons. Sick of publicity-hungry useless eejits wyho clog the media with their unwanted crap. Sick of the media that sensationalises and fails to do its duty. Sick of decent people being given a hard time. Sick of crime. Sick of women getting the short end of the stick. Sick of the environment being violated a gazillion times over. Sick of all the wrongs that I see around me.

And yes, there is still much to look forward to: there are still rainbows and dolphins, monsoons and the smell of damp earth, smiles and sunshine, laughter and poetry, delicious food and music, languages and adventure, India and Italy ...

But it wouldn't be so bad for it all to end. I want Armageddon to come and finish the world, give it a chance to start over and do things right this time.