Not Quite Ideal

Chemistry taught me that ideal gas doesn't exist. Life taught me that ideal doesn't exist. And at times I tend to forget this and hope for, fight for and get all upset if I don't get the ideal. During rare moments of clarity, my subconsience reminds me that ideal is born from an idea of perfection and is never achievable. But that doesn't mean that we stop trying to achieve it.

Take for instance the big debate the country is engrossed in these days: Delhi elections. I support the Aam Aadmi Party and every other day I am engaged in passionate arguments on why they deserve a chance. My shrill statements are often met with reasonable and sensible counter points that they are too young politically, they have set the expectations of the people too high, Arvind Kejriwal might be a good person but the same cannot be touted for his entire party. So on and so forth. I agree they are not perfect. But then, who is? Their aim of making Delhi an ideal state and India an ideal country struck a chord with me. Their ideas maybe a little too idealistic but I, like so many more voters, got hooked on their fiery passion and sincerity. They are far from perfect and have heaps to learn and I want to give them a chance to reach closer to perfection and learn more. How much worse can it get than the current situation?

Another instance. Professionally, I am no where close to my idea of where I should have been at the age of 25. I am almost 9 months away from that milestone and I don't see myself getting where I wanted to be. It is not the company's fault, it is not my fault. I do not regret any decision I made. But I am pacified because I put in sincere efforts to reach where I wanted to be. I might be somewhere midway but I am proud that I reached here on my own. I could have done more. There is always scope. And I am still making efforts. Even if I reach there a couple of years later, it won't be ideal, because ideal doesn't exist. But it will be close :)

More close to home, my marriage is far from my ideal of marriage. Bobby is not the ideal that I had imagined. He has never taken me to a surprise candle light dinner, infact the poor guy can't stomach any surprise. We don't watch How I Met Your Mother together. He probably won't even know what it means. He won't play scrabble with me. He doesn't do the man's job around house.

But we go to street side parantha places in the middle of the night. We laugh till our stomach hurt watching old Sunny Deol movies and dubbed Tollywood movies after work. I wrestle him up every morning and he makes me run around the house giggling and screaming as soon as he gets back home from work. He might leave the man's jobs to me, but he sure gets the vegetables and milk and does the laundry. (*sigh* I love him like a lovestruck teenager)

Point being, ideal may not always be the best. At times, the journey is far more interesting, engaging, eye opening and satisfying than the end point. More important than the end point are the efforts you make to reach there and the rewards those efforts reap.

I have reaped many of them and some are still in the pipeline. I know they might not be ideal. But then, I don't think I'll care much about that till the time I am happy! :)

My Diwali. Your Diwali

I don't have many favourites. No favourite colour or place or music or movie or actor or cuisine. Diwali is not my favourite. Like most festivals, my excitement is more for the accompanying holidays. So, I was surprised by the emotions which affected me when we were sharing notes of our Diwalis.

So like we often do, Bobby and I had settled down for a quiet late evening in the small bedroom balcony with plates of snacks and were making plans for Diwali. And as I had sensed, like always, we ended up talking about old times. I don't know what was the trigger but I suddenly realised that in 24 years, it would be my first Diwali away from my parents. Soon, in between sobs and sniffs, I was rambling on and on about all the little things that made Diwali my Diwali.

I could so vividly recollect the big white plastic bag which stays hidden in some corner of the store room for 360 days and makes an appearance only a couple of days before Diwali. The strings, 'Happy Diwali' hangings, shiny plastic ruffles and stars, plastic plates with thermocol balls and baubles hanging from them, they are all dusted and then with great pain, hung up to adorn the front verandah of our home. This white plastic bag has had the same baubles for forever it seems. Nothing is discarded or replaced. There might have been a few new entries every decade or two, but nothing goes out. Just the thought that I would no more be standing on tip toes on iron stools to tie the string of artificial orange flowers to the front gate with Papa had my eyes wet.

And I remembered how I and Chinki, with quarter plates full of red kumkum mixed in water would run all through the house painting small red feet in front of every door. I am sure Goddess Laxmi would appreciate the pretty plastic stick-on feet as invitation as well, but the oddly shaped, painted little feet will always hold a special place in my heart.

All these years we had never ever bought dry colours. We used an old set of water paints to paint a rangoli on the stone and chips floor of the verandah. Taiji used to be livid, cursing us with often heard punjabi curses, for spoiling her carefully swept and mopped front verandah. We used to laugh, tease her heartily and continue drawing and re-drawing and detailing until it got too dark to see while tayiji threatened to have it wiped off at the first instant. She never did. The water colour rangoli stayed there for days, till it faded on its own. I adore her so much!


Diwali has never been about fire crackers for me. I did enjoy the charkhari, fuljhadi, train, serpent, foonk bum, hunter etc. etc. which Papa got in hoardes from the Sadar Bazaar wholesale market when I was a kid. The guy who lives up the streets lit rows of multi - coloured anaar, street long ladi, sky rockets which were delightfully colourful and loud. Now his children are continuing his legacy by going a step further. Wonder where they get so many loud bombs from! 

But what Diwali has really been about is the puja. My oldest Diwali memories is of the entire family of 14 members sitting cross legged, huddled togther, us kids on laps of the adults, on carpeted floors in the living room while Pitaji (my grandfather) sat on the diwan and told us the Ramayana katha. 

Every year. But the past 15 years, we have spent good part of the Diwali singing bhajans. Aah... so many of them. I am the star singer of the family. We have books and books of bhajans with us. While we were singing one, Papa flipped through the books, chose one promising looking bhajan, and slid the book towards me wanting me to sing that one next. We sang and sang for I don't know how many hours. People had already started the fireworks outside. But everyone had favourite gods to please and no one wanted to leave their favourite songs of worship out. Everyone sat pateintly and sang. Since last year, all my family has ribbed me with 'Who will sing the bhajans on Diwali now?'. I never thought it would be something I will miss. But damn, I will miss it so so so much! I already am actually. Humming one bhajan now. :) 

Post the puja everyone brought out the good stuff! Everyone made something special to be shared and had together. There were sweets, one tayiji makes matara chhola almost every Diwali while the elder one makes rice with peas and raita. Ma makes amazing pao bhaji. Oh I am getting hungry just thinking about it. We laugh, talk about this and that and just be together. Perhaps Diwali is the most beautiful day for us as a family.

So yes. I would miss my old Diwalis a lot. And now I can say that Diwali is my favourite festival! And from this year, I am going to make my Diwali our Diwali. We'll make new memories, me and Bobby with our family. Maybe my kid will write a blog someday about the traditions that we will begin. Lol.Happy Diwali guys. Have a good one.  

Guilty Innocent

(Note to Boss: In case you are reading, this is my personal space and I believe I can exercise my right to freedom here at my will.)

I have been pissed for such a long time that it seems rather normal to others now. Maybe another reason for this indifference towards my resentment is that everyone at work is in the same frame of mind since a very long time now. And why should that be so? Because the salary has been delayed for months (I am not mentioning the number of months because honestly, it is embarrassing)? Because no one recognises the work that I am putting in at office? Because long emails assuring that the financial crisis would be averted in 2 months have been coming for 2 years now? Because I am supposed to answer work calls and emails on weekends? Because there is absolutely no motivation to work? Because Mr. Numero Uno forgets that he is a businessman and we are salaried employees? And I can go on and on. But despite this strong resentment, I experienced a rather weird feeling. It is not like I was feeling it for the first time but in this situation, it was rather unexpected.

To change my frame of mind, I decided to take a small trip to a quiet and cool place. And when I applied for 3 days of leave, believe it or not, I felt guilty! I was extra cautious while drafting the leave application. Should I request for leave or should I just tell? After all, why should I have to ask for something that I deserve. Especially after the current scenario that I am working in? And working very hard,mind you. But wouldn't it sound too rude? And as soon as the word rude made an appearance in my thought process, the first real guilt pang hit. And I could not explain it to myself. I mean, being smug would have been justified. But, guilty? Come on! That is just stupid.

So to assure myself I'm not the only person with a mental defect, I consulted Baba Google and guess what! Pages and pages of search results confirmed that this syndrome of feeling guilty while taking an innocent and genuine leave, even sick days, is very common and especially in Indians (go on, try it out yourself). It might give us all an ego boost of sort to believe that we are indispensable to the organisation and no one can replace me. How will the office function without me? But trust me, while you will surely be led to believe that you are an important part of the company and the work that you have been assigned will be in peril if you do not tend to it every minute of your life, it will all be a honey trap. And we invariably fall in it.
No, this paragraph is not going to give you a magic solution to erase that feeling of guilt while you innocently apply for that much needed leave. That guilt is the curse of every sincere employee. I mean I tried a couple of articles which promised to teach its readers 'How not to feel guilty while taking time off from work' and all they recommended was: be available in times of urgency, take time off to improve yourselves by taking seminars and courses, ask your boss if it is okay to take a leave 10 days in advance. It just made me feel very sorry about myself. So the conclusion is that no matter howsoever I might crib but I am a sincere, loyal and hardworking employee by nature who bloody feels guilty to take a leave! The company is lucky to have me.

In fact, I am feeling guilty about writing this post. And I am in two minds whether to post it or not. I guess you would have found out by now if I did or not. 

Follow me on twitter @sukriti_j

छोटी सी बात

कच्ची सी नींद

सुबह की चाय

सलवटों भरी चादर

अँगड़ाई और अदाएं

अद्धी बिना बनियान

वर्जिश की थकान

किराने की दुकान

रसोई का सामान

मेट्रो की मार

काम का भार

खाना नहीं खाया?

बीवी की फटकार

देर रात छुट्टी

देर रात घर

गरमा गरम खाना

घी डाल कर

थोड़ी देर लैपटॉप

थोड़ी देर टीवी

Do not disturb

Time for बीवी

ऐसा तुम्हारा दिन

ऐसी तुम्हारी रात

आगे भी पढ़िए

ख़तम न हुई बात

तुमसे शुरू मेरा हर दिन

तुमपे ख़तम मेरी हर रात

तुम हो तो सब कुछ है

कहनी थी बस, ये छोटी सी बात

For you, on your birthday

July 12, 2013

How is life after marriage?

It has been close to 5 months since my marriage but still the ice breaker questions remain the same. I don't know what answer is expected, but I'm sure I satisfy most people with my, "Oh, it is quite same as before. All good.". 
But come to think of it, there have been innumerable changes. Some good and some not so. I didn't exactly take to married life like a fish to water. I couldn't cook to save my life. I had never ironed a handkerchief. I didn't know how a washing machine operates (still don't, actually). And I had no clue about the price of stuff! And I am not claiming that I have perfected the change now. Actually, I doubt that people are able to perfect it even after years of being married.
  There are days when I feel terribly homesick. Days when I marvel at the fact that I am managing an entire kitchen on my own now, keeping tabs on flour, sugar, pulses, spices. Days, when I have to remind myself that this change in my life is permanent and this two bedroom flat with pristine white walls and little furniture is my new home. And those days I miss the pista - green walls of my old room which screamed of me! Remember Chinki, how we debated on the perfect colour and the pattern for the front wall? The green and yellow squares did turn out to be pretty well. There was a slight error in one of the squares which made it a little lopsided. I used to concentrate on that anomaly while studying. Well, everyone has weird quirks! Oh, and I had chipped the paint off the ceiling when the newly constructed room was just a few months old with double - sided tape during my college film shoot! Bits of DST are still sticking to the ceiling! And the amazing bookshelf which made me want to read even more.
Just a couple of days back I and Bobby were talking about our old homes. And I remembered having dinner together in the then gray tiled kitchen, sitting cross legged on the orange plastic mat which had white burfi like patterns on it. I used to sit next to papa in the narrow doorway. It made it easier for me to pass all the things I didn't like to his plate. Dinner was an event and we never missed the television upstairs in ma - papa's bedroom. And when we did get a 14 inch black bodied Sony TV for the living room,  its most fond usage was for watching Zee News right before heading off for school and listening to bad bhajans sung on filmi tunes before the news telecast begun.
Surprisingly, I even miss watching soap operas with Ma. She used to sniffle at every other scene and I used to tease her. "You better shed more tears at my wedding Ma, than you waste on these silly serials (she didn't, by the way). Same story everyday. :) She either made us have dinner before 8 or after 8.30. The half an hour in between was reserved for Anandi. Guests were grudgingly entertained at that time. And if after the wait, dinner was tori, arabi, ghiya, tinde, gobhi or bhindi, I used to create a scene and dad was always on my side. I am a fussy eater and as a result, every second day I had paneer in my tiffin box and a sweet everyday. Not that I can't have a sweet everyday and paneer frequently, but the charm of knowing that Ma made it especially for me and just for me and others got gobhi or some green and yucky vegetable, is something irreplaceable.
And I miss my mental Ma the most, who used to iron even my undergarments and cry at advertisements of serials. Ma, who guessed I had fallen in love without my having to worry about finding ways to drop the bomb. Papa, who wouldn't sit still for a second if he knew I wanted something. 'Papa, I can't find my 10th class mark sheet' and there he'd go, leaving his dinner half eaten to forge for it in his cupboard. Papa, who would become an electrician, cleaner, teacher, driver or anything under the sun for his daughters.
 
And here I am, cooking achari bhindi (I haven't tasted it ever but I have heard that I make it pretty well, by the way) and missing the pakoras papa made for me last weekend. And I can't help but wish that I could still be the star slicer, chopper, dicer for Ma because that was the only way I could  help her. But unlike Hannah Montana, I can't have the best of both worlds unless Bobby agrees to become a ghar jamai. And I'm not taking the risk of giving him such ideas because the crazy guy he is, he can figure out ways to make that happen as well.
So, where were we? Yes, at "how are you liking your married life?". Well, I miss tonnes of things but I'm making millions of irreplaceable memories here. So, yes, all good. Thanks.

Where's the fun in that?

Office sucks. If yours doesn't, then you are probably demented, or the boss (which is essentially the same thing). But even though your job is underpaid, you are over - timing everyday and the boss thinks you are under - utilised, paychecks don't come on time, it is ensured that you are made to work on weekends, you get work mail at odd hours.. umm... where was I before I went on my ranting spree? Yes, even though offices sucks, if you are even remotely the kind of person it takes to have fun, office spaces become playgrounds which offer oodles of masti (there is no word in the language of firangs which does justice to the cool sentiments of this desi word). How you may ask? Even if you don't, I'm gonna spill the beans anyway because you would have figured out by now what the blog post is about.

This is my second job so far and at each place I have had and am still having a wonderful wonderful time! And being the reserved person that I can be if I choose to be, that is saying something. And trust me, you don't even have to be cool like me to have fun at your office. Are you questioning where's the fun there? Well, then, it is right here:

1. Gossip: It just had to be the number 1 fun activity. And if you are a woman, then it steals the top 10 spots. The 'subject of discussion' can range from shoes to shoulder bags, from clutchers to clothes, from attitude to behaviour to style of speaking to not speaking to you name it! Where there is a will, there is an issue to gossip about! Every organisation has characters which deserve dedicated gossip sessions. And if there are more than one, then the lunch hour is bound to be a long one.

2. Lunch: While we are on the subject of lunch hour, I'll like to confess that my working hours are neatly divided into 3 slots: Before lunch, lunch and after lunch. And no prizes for guessing which of them is the most awaited and loved. If cultivated affectionately and with dedication, lunch hour can spice up, quite literally, your time at the office. Ooh, the fight over the kadhai paneer, and drooling over kadhi rice, and the amazing chana masala with tiffin full of halwa and poori in navaratra's and keeping an eye on that rare sweet in someone's lunch box's hidden corner... I'm salivating already! If you have a lunch group, then its a plus! Then there are days when you go out to eat. Fighting over where to go, yelling at people to wrap up their work, deciding what to eat and all of this in just the lunch hour! And I haven't even started talking of eating yet! Oh, its 1 PM! Sorry, time for my lunch break. Punctuality is a must! :P

3. Lookin' good!: Just imagine for once that you do not have any office to go to. What would your day be like? You obviously can't go shopping everyday (remember, no office = no salary = no extra cash to splurge), you can't meet your friends (they'll be at work) and there is nothing besides household work to do. I'm sure no one will be a big fan of that. So you just stay home and don't even bother to get out of your pyjamas.On the other hand, you pick a random outfit to wear at the office, and because you woke up earlier than usual, you match your accessories with it. And when you reach office, unexpectedly, your colleagues compliment you. If even a couple of compliments on a regular day can lift up your spirits, then just imagine that if you put a little bit of effort to look smarter, how good it will make you feel. And not just because of the compliments. Because dressing well is known to make moods better. There are studies on the net to prove it. Office gives you an opportunity to wear all those clothes and stuff you shopped for! Otherwise, who'll bother if you are all decked up at home with your kids (who'll end up dirtying you anyway) or in - laws/ parents (for whom you won't bother to dress up anyway).



4. B*tching: I could have clubbed it with 'Gossip' but I did not because it deserves its own space. Wherever there is a group of more than 2 people at a workplace, there is bound to be some bitching. But if done moderately, it is not a bad thing. It, I have discovered, can act as a stress reliever. When stuck in a project, just discuss how XYZ girl was acting all 'girly' in from of ABC guy to get his attention, and voila! You feel rejuvenated! And, its benefits are not just limited to that. It also helps people bond which is a great team building exercise! Especially when you together 'talk' about the boss. Letting go of all that pent up frustration is blissful! I just hope my boss doesn't read it. :P Well, the point is, that bitching at work about work, colleagues, boss, even the office boys, canteen operator or the courier guy is fun. And I bet you knew that anyway.


5. Friends: If you are lucky like I have been, and you make wonderful wonderful friends at work, then your workplace can be a playground if you want! I have shared not just work ideas but clothes; not just suggestions on projects, but life and love, not just brainstormed aggressively on new pitches but also on the next party plan. There are bound to be times when you feel low or frustrated or plain bored. And having friends at work is blissful at this time. They help you vent. And motivate you and when they realise that you don't need motivation and just need to b*tch, they'll totally pitch in too.

There are tens of other things which make office suck a lot less. But I'll leave you to find them out by yourself. And when you do, you'll maybe feel a tad bit better about the place where you spend most of your waking hours. Happy working! :)

Blessed

I have a blessed life. In fact,many of us do. You might disagree (rather roll your eyes and say that I know nothing about your life, like I might have done had you made a similar remark) and quote examples to prove how unfortunate your life is. Your gym instructor told you that you are 16 kgs overweight. You scored just 45% in your finals and your parents might ground you for a month. You broke up with your girlfriend or boyfriend of long time and are miserable. Even worse you have a highly complicated love life which will take a couple of hours to explain convincingly to a second person. Or maybe there is nothing special in your life. Just regular, boring stuff. Tragic, eh? Or you might even question me calling my life blessed citing examples that my 'working' hours have increased to 18 hours a day what with the shopping and chopping and ironing and dusting and cooking and cleaning, things I hardly ever did before I married. 

And if I already know the things that might be making your life hell, how can I even call your life blessed? Or for that matter mine? Maybe because we aren't in an abusive relationship. Maybe because we weren't brutally assaulted and left to die at a tender age. Maybe because we didn't lose a loved one. 

Even though we all have hundreds of tensions which are making our life miserable, if we have even one person to listen to our problems, we are blessed. Even though we might not have the body we have always dreamt of having, we are blessed that all our organs and limbs work okay. Even though there might be reasons to be sad and depressed, if we smile even once in a day, we are blessed. Even though our life is not extraordinary, but even if we have one moment which is special and joyful, we are blessed. 

Life sucks! It does. (If you disagree, this post wasn't for you, sorry). But then we have a chance at it and people to share it with and reasons to laugh and enjoy and smile. And that is what makes it blessed. Just focus on the good moments. Despite the increased workload  at the end of the day I have someone to share my petty and not - so - petty problems with and someone to snuggle up to at night. I am blessed. 

:)

My 7 Vows

It is official!


Invitations are being sent out. Senseless amount of money has been spent on clothes, make up, shoes, gifts and a million other things. We have decided to take this life turning plunge and declare ourselves as man and wife in a full-on wedding ceremony in front of some 1000 odd people decked up in stuff we both won't wear ever again. All my female stuff would become commonplace in your wardrobe, bathroom, cabinets, dressing table. My PMSing, mood swings, anger fits, quiet spells, mad urges to sing and many other faces which you have just glimpsed so far would become a part of your daily routine. Scared yet rookie? Well, don't be because the lucky man that you are, I have decided to be a tolerable, fair and understanding room and life partner for our benefit. How so, you ask? The pundit will do his job and make us throw stuff in the holy fire and repeat unintelligible stuff and declare that we have taken the required vows to be married. Vows which we might not understand in the first place to ensure that we follow them. So, I present my own set of vows here. I am no saint and I can deviate from my words. But you'll always have this typed proof on my blog to knock some sense into me when required. So here goes:

1. I hate toothpaste tubes being squeezed from the centre. I hate wet towels on the bed. I hate it when things are not where they are supposed to be. But I vow to remember that my opinion and likings are mine and not yours. I might suggest. But I won't impose.

2. Sometimes I just like to go to a cafe alone and read a book. Just like I have my solitary likes, I'll respect your time with yourself. I promise not to assume time keeper duties. And also not to tag along where you might not want me. Just drop me a hint.
3. I have the entire day planned out and you get called to work. Of course I'll be upset and disappointed. I'm human, and that too female of the species after all. But I promise to be understanding and reasonable. It takes time to kick in. Just bear with me till the time it does.
4. Nobody likes being lied to. Neither do I. I promise to never hurt you with lies and I will trust you no matter what.

5. Jo tera hai wo mera hai. And I just don't mean the good stuff. I might not be able to solve all your problems and tensions, god forbid you have any. But I will stand with you, support you, help you and maybe just listen if that would make you feel better, through thick and thin. And yes, head massages and back rubs are included in the offer. 
6. Women are complicated creatures. They say one thing and mean a score other things. And I don't claim to be much different. As much as I'd want you to read my mind on several occasions, I understand its not possible for you to always know that I'm in the mood for Italian and not south Indian food. Or that I want to spend some 'us' time rather than go out with friends. Or that I want to go watch a movie instead of sitting home. So I promise to not complicate things by assuming. I'll say what I mean and mean what I say.

7. This one is cliché. But touché as well. I promise to love you always. Just the way you are. I might forget to say it everyday, or might deliberately not say it when I'm pissed. But whether we are fighting, or just tired, or too busy to say it, I'll still mean it. I love you. And that shall never change.

And there go my 7 vows.

I would be lying if I say that I won't have expectations, because of course I will. But there shall be no pressure on you.

A very happy married life love. All the best and good luck. God knows you'll need it.

:*

Hopeless India

We all know India is failing. Oh, we have big bombs and planes and tanks and arms and new policies coming up everyday. But a heinous, unpardonable, disturbing and disgusting case showed India the mirror. The reflection today is dirty and bloodied. We also know the flaws. We all would have atleast one solution to the problems. But we all would have heard counter statements on how those solutions won't work because of some other flaw which we might have overlooked. Some say the mindsets and morals of 125 crore people can't change overnight. Some say the 35 lakh police people can't be taught the right way to deal with a crime anytime soon. Some say the foundation of the country's politics is so weak with corruption that any superficial change for the better would crash down. We are nation of people who are scared to help an accident victim fearing the police's rash investigation or rather lack of it. We are a democracy where the people in power promise but never deliver. So where do we start this change from? Us? Government? Police? Bribe takers? Bribe givers? Is a change ever possible when we know that those responsible to drive the change will either be corrupt or will be made helpless by the other corrupt people in power?

The girl's brutal rape case woke up the country's masses. She lit a flame. Which will invariably die soon. The story will shift from the front to the internal pages of the papers. Some sports tournament or celebrity controversy or the governing and opposition party's latest tiff will distract the electronic media. We'll have a friend's wedding or the weather or a new hobby to talk about on FaceBook and Twitter. And the corruption, which has infested our system to such an extent that there is absolutely no part of our lives untouched by it, will continue as always.
I'm sorry to the girl whose tragic case was riddled with corruption and scandals and politics and incapability of police, to the people who protested, to those who are still positive that change will happen; but the flame will die. And we won't be able to do much about it except express our anger and dissatisfaction, face the water cannons, lathi charge and tear gas.

I have given up hope. The golden sparrow is dead. Bharat mata is being raped everyday by her own people. I'm not a proud Indian.