two years in Doha

today we complete two years here... quite an accomplishment, going by B's track record of finding jobs in a jiffy and no I haven't reminded him yet of two years gone by, lest he starts updating his CV and looking out...
somehow, i have sort of fallen in love with this place... possibly it is familiarity, but love there is between me and Doha... and this is now...today, when i was passing by Airport, trying to recollect how Doha looked like when we first landed and came out searching for the hotel coach that was supposed to be waiting for us... the first reaction was a little jerk... having come in from as beautiful a city as Muscat, we were struck by the work going on, on the roads, the city was busy preparing for the Asian Games that were to begin on December 1, 2006...
now of course, we have understood and accepted that ongoing work is what this city is all about... in fact, even the hotel where we checked in is no longer there...
and some entire roads have been redone, some flyovers broken down, some roundabouts made signal driven...
but now that i love this place (despite the hours that we spent initially commuting between Luqta and Office, the two shift of homes that we have done, the pain i underwent after having enrolled in the driving class here), i want it to continue... let R pass out from here, let her not be new girl again, let me hold on to this job (i love that too), let B's mind be settled in his present job, so that when we move, we move finally...
is that a tall order? hope not, dear B.

the non-existent house

it does not exist any more...
yes, there is a multi-storey building in its place, which made more economic sense to the five sons and two daughters of one Mr Ganguly who built this house after marrying off one of his daughters in 1956, keeping away money for the wedding of his younger daughter who was still studying...
a good part of my childhood was spent in this house... i am a grand child of Mr Ganguly... no i haven't seen him, since he passed away five years before i was born... but i have seen the huge oil paintings of him, his wife (whom i have seen and am told resemble a lot, my grandmom, my Mom's mom), his ancestors and his wife's ancestors in the high-ceilinged house that he built...
part of our (my bro's and mine) summer vacations and winter vacations were spent in this house... it had two huge balconies, one on each floor... the floor was of red cement, shining red, with black borders... there was a well-kept lawn in front of the house and a well at one corner, where we, the grandchildren, took bath, on days we wanted to be different from the other days...
mornings at this house were different than those at our home... it began early with tea, crisp toast and butter, with All India Radio to match the grandfather clock that was in the hall, with merun sofa...
the sun came in all brilliance from the large open windows, with dark curtains which were tied neatly by Mr Ganguly's third daughter in law... it is her husband, my third maternal uncle, their son (who still stays with his family now in one of the flats in the apartment) and daughter who stayed in that house from the day it was made till the day it was broken down for some money that the siblings, My Ganguly's children, had agreed on with a builder...
after a hurried round with the newspaper, my two uncles went for bath, had breakfast, carried lunch and were off to work, leaving the house to their families and us, the occasional pampered visitors...
my Mom was happiest when here... she became carefree and went out leaving us with cousins, aunts and foremost, our grandmom, whose smell i can still get if i think hard... Dad would come to drop us off and pick us up after a scheduled number of days...
i still dream of this house... how we fought on the balconies, how we played hide and seek, how we watched the sun set and planned the next day...
and as the dream wares out and i wake, i feel a pang in my heart...
Mr Ganguly, Mrs Ganguly... i too feel the pain that your children could not keep your dream house intact...

PS: i am the child of the daughter who was not yet married when Mr Ganguly built this house in 1956.

forgive i will, forget i won't

i am really really angry and why shouldn't i be? i am asking myself...
we had a small Diwali party in office... organised by some of us, we sent out a mail to all in the office: let's assemble at the pantry at 12 noon and have a small get-together...
we got the food, were all ready, waiting for our colleagues to join in... some who were out on assignments rushed back as soon as they were done...
some other people, however, were conspicious by their absence... they did not take calls when contacted and did not excuse their absence...
and they were home for lunch!!!... this while we went all the way to join in their Iftaars...
since some of us work on two shifts, our friends came back and headed for the pantry saying, "is there food for us?"
some of my colleagues do not know what to read into this initial absence followed by taking food when the party is over...
i am confident that they have deliberately not come: if the meet is at a particular time, they should have been there, or else have had the courtesy to inform us...
should we make an issue of this? or should we carry on, move away from this? the latter seems more of an educated choice... this is how we have been bred, nurtured, indoctrinated...
the seething anger will settle, we will have to carry on working... and though i will possibly forgive them when a new sun rises, i may not be able to forget this...

marriage and/or success?

this is a crucial paradox but true nonetheless... women have to choose between a stable, successful marriage and sky rocketing professional career...
and i have stopped asking why... i did ask these whys when i was younger, when i was relatively inexperienced, but now i keep silent (in fact, while i was in the process of being hired by a financial institution way back in 1993, i was asked at the second interview, "what are your family plans?" when i did not understand and my face said it, the Executive Director of the company asked me, "we mean when do you plan to have children?" pat i replied, "pardon me, but had there been a guy in my place, would this question have arisen? and equally pat came the reply from the ED, "no certainly not, since he would not take maternity leave and be away from work like a lady would need to." so though i did not answer that question and was still hired, the question still lingers in my mind)... but have still not accepted it... and often question the choices i myself make from time to time...
how many women have you come across personally, who are very very successful and have a rocking family and family life? whose success on the job has not eaten away balanced children, a happy spouse? who sits on the Board of her company, travels 20 days a month on work, have brilliant children and an equally successful spouse?
honestly, i have seen very successful women from very close quarters... but the choices they have been able to make, can by no means be universal... one lady i knew, was the Joint MD of the same company i referred to above... she was certainly very successful, having been shortlisted by Forbes... her children were quite balanced, but her spouse was remarkable... he was an armyman, took early retirement to be with the kids to enable his wife to fly professionally and introduced himself as "Mr LDG"... very few, i repeat, very few men would do this...
another lady, equally successful, has two growing children, but her spouse has chosen to work from home on his own business... this has worked two ways... a) the women have taken the lead in career, b) aided by men who have made a different kind of choice... but they possibly could do it as a family since there was no confusion on who wears the pants and even if the lady was more successful, that did not hurt the usually fragile male ego.
now not all women can hope for such robust support structures... again, am i opining that because of the men in their lives, these women could be successful to the extent they have been? possible... and why not? if so many score women all over the world are taking easy careers (your truly included, to be blank honest) just to enable the husband ride exciting career and career booms, what is wrong with some men doing it...
just the other day, B received a mail from an ex student of his... she works for Infosys, is on different continents on different days of the week, and is still single at 29. her parents have told her to find a guy, but she has not been able... she says that most men she knows want home-makers as partners... and she does not want to turn a home maker...
are we heading towards a situation where we either have successful women or successful marriages?

first time this happened

there is a first time for everything... so this too had to happen... highly highly unlikely... but it has... an assignment was marked to me by way of a mail, usual way of going about work... what i do is to make a mental note and carry on.
this too, i clearly remember seeing... but do not recollect having made the mental not...
so what should not have happened has... i am busy chasing proofs since one magazine needs to be finalised... and i hear my superior on a line, "yes, someone is coming for Rolls Royce," as soon as i hear this, i know it is me... and i am still in the office, fifteen minutes behind the schedule time of presence and this is the same me who am on time for every single meeting, every single conference...

i have completely forgotten about it... so in flat 20 minutes, i land up after the event is over... tender my apologies and come away with the information pack...

as i walk out, i am not only surprised, but worried... in fact, even my superior is surprised that i have missed a meeting... this is not normal...
and let me tell you, these days, i am having a problem with some names, some words, though my date memory is still intact (in fact, it would be better if i could forget some birthdays, some anniversaries, some engagements)...

so is this a warning telling me to cast off my confidence and start making physical notes? i do not have an answer...

should we soul search?

this says it all... if an award winning writer can comment that life would not change and that life in Mumbai"...has a way of reminding you that writers are not particularly important", it becomes telling.
really, for how many people is a book that important? how many people really follow what is going on the world of the printed word?... so even in the backdrop of a Booker, if Adiga commented as he did, it is time for some soul searching. Mumbai is just a micrcosm of the world where we are busy running our own routines... start early morning, run the whole day in chasing small goals, come home tired, wind up the day and start yet another unmeaningful, uneventful one...
while Adiga, since he lives in Mumbai, concludes so about his adopted home, most cities and its residents are more or less the same...
and believe me, writers are one of the most marginalised, in terms of the attention he or she gets... many consider the writer to be residing in a different domain (while s/he is constantly deriving her/his source of writing from what s/he observes around her/him)...
as Adiga says, "It won't mean anything to my neighbours, they won't know about this. Life will continue."... is this frustrating? or is this one stage ahead -- cynicism? i think it is the latter and that is because the writer in Adiga had to find publishers to talk to the world, while the next door remains closed...
yes many of the so called next door persons would say, "would Adiga talk to us if we did?"... is true also. Looking at the whole thing from the next door neighbour's perspective, i feel, there needs to be two way traffic... and that writers also have a role in their own alienation... but who takes the first step? there are expectations from both sides... the writer thinks the neighbour should come ahead, while the neighbour thinks the onus lies with the writer...
it is a broken communication... and this is as true of Mumbai, as London or New York... a larger human issue, i feel.

i live for some-time else

it's really a problem... i either live for tomorrow (i always set the alarms for all the tasks that need a reminder tomorrow, today; i try to save money for tomorrow; i save the pleasures of today to be able to enjoy tomorrow... but till date that tomorrow in my mind hasn't come) or i live in yesterday (this latter i put on a facade and deny vehemently... but yes, a large part of me, which i try to hide from everyone, lives in ruminating, in nurturing the pleasant memories, analysing unpleasant ones)...
so this wooden box, a perfect cuboid, which contains first flush Darjeeling tea, that sits prim on the top of my refrigerator in the kitchen is taking my attention away as i write this... it is past midnight, R is in dreamworld, B is snoring... but i am caught with the wooden box... it was a gift from Fortnum & Mason when i was on work at London this summer... wrapped nicely, i did not have the time to open it and see then, though some Chinese journalists did comment on it, saying what a useless box to carry all the way to Shanghai... can't blame them though... they are used to herbal or green tea... that Darjeeling tea is a delicacy that few relish, as the lady from Australia commented, "in case you do not want your box, do pass it on to us." to our Chinese friend...
first flush... a term i heard when i was still single-digit old... and one reason why i hated Mumbai was because the entire city drank Assam tea from Lipton or Brooke Bond... so until i discovered Girnar Tea on Dadar West, just outside the station, i did not drink tea...
tomorrow i will empty the contents in a container and throw that wooden box... it reminds me too much of the time when tea was bought in wooden boxes from some tea garden in the Dooars, in the foothills of the Himalayas, in North Bengal...
i will have to live for today, starting now... to hell with my ruminating self.

are all success stories inspirational?

there are various reasons behind success... for some it is sheer hard work, for others it is sheer luck, for a third bunch it is drive and energy, for the rest an admixture of all of of these...
but one trait that is common for most successful beings is perseverence... and none else but Bill Gates one else could prove this right... after announcing retirement from Microsoft , he is now yet again in a creation mood... and now the venture relates to a think tank that will oversee Gates’ personal pursuit of breakthrough ideas in science and technology...
while some draw lessons about success from his life, to me what stands out is his philanthrophy... succssful he certainly is and there is no denying that he has changed all our lives by his software genius...
the more important fact, to my mind, is the way he touches lives of so many unfortunate ones by his Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation
this indeed is a case of extraordinary success matched with extraordinary human qualities... the total package is rare, but inspirational certainly...

every nest has an aroma

i was busy keying in a message, while turning the key of the home absent-mindedly... as i pushed the door open, my nostrils which cleared after a bad cold, were greeted by a strong smell... the smell of my home... of late there has been a new tinge to it, of a strong cleanser, the effect of a pest (only roach) control that we did some months back... minus this tinge, it has been the same smell across all my homes... all my 12 homes that i have set up, some earlier ones painstakingly, the latter ones, by way of habit...
the smell of a home has a personality, the same as that of the inhabitants... so there is a nicotine smell in the air at home, thanks to B's lean fags from Turkey; it has R's deo smell, which has replaced the tinge of the baby smell that abounded when she was a baby... but that baby smell i can still get when i recall her growing years; and the incense that we burn some days...
in the mornings, there is the perfume smell that i use before i go for work, B's after shave smell...
in the evenings, there is the smell of the cooking rice or the seasoning G, my cook (in fact, my life line, thank God, he does not read my blog... he could even ask for a hike) uses for the vegetable he cooks or the fish he fries...
all in all, it is our smell... and on days that i come to an empty home, with B at work and R, either visiting friends or in her classes, it is this smell that hugs me in... i feel reassured that i have come to a corner which is mine...
yet, it took a long while to get this identification... just after marriage, when in Mumbai, i could only identify with home back at Kolkata... so every long break we got, we ran there... so, not surprisingly, when Dad had come on work and i asked him how he liked my home, he answered, "nice. new concept. two bachelors staying together."
in fact, it was only after R came along and no matter how long a break we got at work, we could not run back, that my mind started taking root, longing to go back, but not with the same intensity... and the smell of my home started taking shape...

the white jamai

in other words, the white son-in-law... we have one in the family... my niece has married an American who happens to be a writer...
so after the American wedding (in a church), the couple went down to India to get married the Bong style... it was more a challenge for him, rather than the parents who organised the whole thing... i was not there at the function, but have seen all the videos and what struck me was the willingness with which he went about all the riutals -- he did wear the topor (which is a hat made of some white decorative material), the dhoti (now you get ready-made dhotis, which you just wear like a trouser), the kurta and the kohlapuri chappals to go with it...
when i asked my sis-in-law (the bride's mom), how they got him to do all that he did, she said, "he had asked the meanings of all the mantras in English, so i got the mantras translated and had sent it by mail. then one day, he wanted to chat just on the rituals, which i later understood, was his way of getting a comfort that there was no conversion involved in the whole affair."
it might seem silly to us, but for this foreigner, coming with his Indian wife and going through an Indian wedding may not have been that easy...
but he came out in flying colours...

visiting cards... what do we do with them?

do we store visiting cards? or throw them?
we start with storing, and periodically spring clean them to throw out old, outdated ones...or so i thought... and rightly i think...since that tiny bit of paper contains a mine of information (again, this is what i think)... being in the trade that has largely to do with people, journos often face this issue of contacts... the next story's contacts are contained in that tiny info-pack...
so i got wild yesterday when at a conference, a lady, representing the company that held the event, comes forward and introduces herself and we exchange cards...
the conference begins, the Q&A happen and as we disburse, the lady gets up from the chair next to mine and drops all the cards that she has collected, including mine...
like umpteen times, i thought it was oversight and so i bent down my frail (!!) self, picked all the cards and ran behind her to give it to the lady...
she was busy with someone else, talking and exchanging cards... so when i butted in, handed over the cards to her and said, "you dropped these," she says, "oh how sweet, but i don't think i will need them."
i was beside myself by then... so to avoid an altercation, i walked out, making loud pit-pat with my shoes, as if the smooth granite beneath my feet was at fault...

gap bewteen what one preaches and what one practises

i am pissed off with this one... and am sure there are many others like me...
but what i am not sure is: which number is more -- the ones who prefer a gap (and willingly keep it) and those who struggle every inch to weed out the gap...
but i have a hunch that the former outweigh the latter since it is always easier to keep a gap, and move on...
it is a who-cares? attitude, a thick skin, an attitude of convenience that permeates most...and let me add here, it is to that extent easier... to just do what is easier, to do what is more convenient and do exactly that which will lead to personal benefit rather than stick one's neck out and get caught...
why? most say, since it is not conventional, it is not easy and it is more difficult to align the values with the practice... it is thousand times more easy to have values that change with the situation, that are use and throw, but those that can be used to derive benefit...
so why bother to struggle to keep out that gap between practice and preaching since that requires a lifestyle (and here i do mean to include, aspirations as well) that is comparatively more spartan, more honest, more threadbare since the person who does not have a gap, is one who not only sticks it out for herself/himself, but also for others...
and fighting for others need a person who is morally invincible, who is so way up that the ordinary folks cannot even reach up there...
but where are these individuals?
i am searching... do let me know if you come across any.

extended ego

that is exactly what our children are... we are hurt even before they realize someone was trying to hurt them; we are happy (read elated) when someone praises them...
so when last Thursday, R's teachers, in the Parent-Teachers Meeting said she was amazing in her English, Social Science, Hindi, Science and Maths, we both did feel very happy...
but her English teacher hit the bull's eye when she said, "I am very proud of A as a student, the ideas she comes up with, the expressions she uses, the way she handles unseen work, is exceptional for her age. But when i see her answer script, it is the absence of determination that i see all over. She is happy with the second place and almost willingly gives it up to A (another one), who, though less equipped than her, scores by sheer determination. Your daughter is gifted but lacks the will to succeed."
i had all along known this, have kept on dinning it into her ears (and indirectly her father's since it is he who believes in just leaving her alone)... so when this sensible teacher made the same assessment as I had, i was relieved that R was being monitored by adults who know their work...
this same view was seconded by R's science teacher who was happy with her for all the extra efforts she can see in her, as her House Coordinator, but said, "she needs to feel her sense of responsibility a little more."
so as soon as we were out of the room, B started, "you heard what she said... responsibility will come if we leave her..."
oh! same old assessment, i thought... and i retorted, "did you not hear what the English teacher had to say?"... for once B conceded, "well, she is like me in this..."
has to be, right?

rewriting history

this is the second time in my life that i feel i am a witness to history being made...
for a student of social sciences, ideology is an important aspect of orientation that gives a sense of identity... born and bred in a Left-ruled State, it only heightened the ideo-bias since we studied, as part of the curriculum, two Constitutions of two erstwhile Communist countries, USSR and China... now of course, the same curricula has been revised to include the Swiss and French contitutions...
but most of us have forgotten the person behind what the West calls the fall of Communism... Mikhail Gorbachev... who with glasnost and perestroika, made way for the system to give rise to a new, undefined version of Statehood... this was way back in 1989, the first time i felt that history was being rewritten...
that time, it was redefinition of the Left... giving rise to new paradigms in international relations... Cold War, a major subject for us in International Relations, was deleted, since there was no Soviet Union... it was re-christened to Commonwealth of Independent States... so too small for the US to stoop and have war, cold or hot...
the subsequent 20 odd years have seen the unlimited rise of laissez faire... but what are we seeing now? bye bye Adam Smith, George Bush, in his last leg of Presidency, is doing what he might not have dreamt in his dreams -- nationalising major financial institutions, ones that formed pillars of the US economy...
so where is the scope for ideology? in a sense, this shows that nothing is really invincible... what would work is the question, since neither of the two have stood the test of time...
possibly a mix of the best of both... but who would bell the cat? who would suggest what is best? and who tests that, since it might only be a too costly experiment for which a running economy may suffer...
questions, questions... are there answers?
let me know, if you do...

smartness is the way up the ladder...

...of success, defined as fast forward jumps of an individual across the corporate hierarchy... and this need not necessarily be accompanied by any individual growth since corporate success has very different parameters... one has to talk glib, be savvy... these are the only USPs...
it need not abide by the gross right/wrong matrix, it can ride roughshod over small sentiments, pidly little assurances not kept...
in fact the smarter one is, the higher the chances that s/he will climb that much faster...
one just needs a thick skin and the guile to get one's way... and the rest will take care of itself...
i have seen many such people, who expertly turn arguments, change facts and allegiance in the matter of a moment... and they have moved up the ladder very fast... one simple reason is that they are not straight, they run with the leader and their values are suspect... but all these in the eyes of people who take words at face value and trust easily...

the days i am in love with myself...

1. i do not go back to bed after R has been packed off to school,
2. am at work early, by 7.30 am,
3. work methodically, as per a list i have drawn up the previous day,
4. do not go to bed for a snooze in the afternoon,
5. go for a walk alone on Corniche, after dropping R to her classes,
6. do not gorge/binge during a single meal,
7. read, read and read away the entire evening,
8. drop dead in bed by 9.30 pm, ready with the alarm the next day at 5.30 am.

we make an art of coordination

we, the working mothers of the world, who are trying our best to be a good Mom, an efficient professional and a good individual, all at the same time, really make an art of coordination...
we try to keep the children occupied, by some activity at home or outside, while trying to make it for the meeting in the evening and keeping an eye on whether we can do anything to help someone -- be it a lady who we have to help us in rearing the kid or someone we know in need to some help, need not be necessarily physical... could just be by way of bolstering someone's sagging morale...
there are countless occasions when i have tried to do all of the above... huury back home to be on time to select what dress R would wear for her violin classes on a Saturday afternoon (i used to work half day on Saturdays, those days), gulp down food to save time, pack in a book to keep myself occupied, drop R's nanny on the way to the nearest point where she could take a bus to visit het Mom (she could not visit her Mom on a normal working day, since her husband would not allow that!!)... rush to the violin class... and by the time i got time to breathe, i was far too tired to look at the book i had packed in...
the classes over, many days R was in a mood for an ice cream or plain outing and though i yearned to hit the bed after a shower, i would try to do it with her...
sometimes B would have to be picked up on the way...
and all this while, the next deadline for the Annual Report proofs which would have been distributed to various departments would be on my mind... and that would be mentally slotted for the first task for Monday...
now of course, R has grown up, she no longer stays with a nanny, has given up violin classes... but there is still a lot of coordination to do... and all of it in the mind... we make no noise while we are mentally juggling, trying to slot in as much as possible in as less time as is possible, bettering the effort every single day...
and mind you, most of this is done while our men are at work... they have no clue of of what is going on...
if B knows that i am feeling down and out with this mental task day in and day out, he will politely say, "why did you not tell me?" and believe me, if i tell him, it is 90% sure that he will have forgotten, since he has to multitask... then the grouse is, "why did you not remind me?"...
with such cooperation, i resolve that i will manage independently...

R Tagore and our R

it is a shame really that R knows little about Bong culture... the icons we grew up with... Ray, Tagore, Mrinal Sen, Ritwik Ghatak... are not even familiar names to her... she does not know who did what and what is their claim to fame, except that Tagore won the Nobel for Literature... and yes, we do have Sanchaita and Gitobitan, the two tomes of Tagore's poems that every Bong home has...
actually it is not her fault... when she was little, we were in Mumbai... relocated to Kolkata briefly to pack again to Delhi... again back to Kolkata and left for Muscat and then Doha...
am i making excuses for R? nope, for myself, trying to explain why i did not teach her to read and write the mother tongue... she speaks, since she learnt that at home... but it should have been us who should have taken the trouble to teach her to read and write the language... unless one reads in a language, how else is one expected to have any interest in what goes on within the culture...
here, we have fallen short... so no point in now getting annoyed when she is busy with some remix on her iPod while we are blasting a Rezwana Choudhury Bonya at home or in the car... she is not aware that this can be listened to as well... we have failed here... not she...
culture is a function of the place where one lives and grows up... R has constantly been moving, so she has no specific regional cultural values, except the broad contours of right and wrong, do-able/not-allowed, good/bad categories in mind...
to an extent, today's generation is growing with universal values, which means good in one way, but detrimental in another...
good that universal values get reinforced so many times over and bad that local distinctness gets lost...
i grew up in a home where Tagore was the staple of many discussions... many sang his compositions... there was an effort on the part of my parents to inculcate the habit of reading Tagore, listening to his songs...
B too had a somewhat similar background...
why did we fail teaching the finer nuances of our specific culture? is this not the way in which so many major currents get lost? YES... so why blame R?

so what that we fight?

i had to write this one... she, my colleague, prompted me to... i could have just commented and finished off... but i have tonnes to say...
we, B and I, have known each other for 24 years and he formally proposed 23 years back, been married for 17+... but till today, if we disagree on something, we fight and fight hard... it can be very acrimonious, very bitter... but we are still together and find nothing wrong in fighting... in fact, if we have an issue right now, we will fight again...
and over the years, i have received comments (read unsolicited advice) from relatives, friends and even acquaintances... ranging from, "why don't you accept what he says?", to which my retort remains, "that's the easiest thing to do... to accept... but i cannot and will not."... to "women should be more docile," to which, i frown and say it all... to "why not meet a lawyer"... to which i laugh...
to my mind, there are three patterns of marriages -- one, the traditional, where men rule, two, where women call the shots, and three, where it is between two equal individuals... i have the third type of marriage... so we fight, we make up, we fight again... and no, there are no cold wars, no enmity, no ill feeling, we both know in our heart of hearts that we are each other's well wisher... we have been like that, we are like that, will remain like that...
to a query from a colleague as to what we did in the Id holidays, i said, "we finished all the pending fights..."... he burst out laughing... but that is so very normal...
in fact, on the first trip back home after our wedding, Dad saw us bickering while entering... we pretended to be normal in front of everyone but i saw a sombre Dad and anticipated questioning...
he asked me, "what was all that?", referring to the heated exchanges... i coolly said, "that is the way we fight... normal." "fine if that is what you think as normal, but take care to do it in privacy". it is only this advice that i have heeded to...

face to a name

there is this strange and growing habit these days... while writing mails, i have a problem, if i do not know the person... rather haven't met the person... i have an issue recalling that mail later which is not the case if i have seen the person and have interacted...
is this normal? no idea...

what the mountains teach

what the Americans do, they not only do well, they scale up perfection to another level... grudgingly, and after long years of disagreeing, i have come to accept it now...
one book that i am reading now is The Best American Magazine Writing 2007... published yearly, the Editors sit together and scan articles from magazines that have a certain circulation figure and select the best in some categories -- profile writing, reporting, etc....
the reason why i have finally fallen for the Americans is not their glam or glitz... it is their objectivity... the brilliant pieces that this book has is keeping me totally enthralled... so be it the Beslan seige where the writer explains that for the entire period that the children of the seige, the children not only went without food, but without water as well... the only fluid they could take was each other's urine... or Reinhold Messner who learnt the basics of life and living from mountains which he climbed alone, without oxygen...
just two examples where, though removed from their continent, not only were stories commissioned (Beslan was a crisis, but Messner was a personality from Italy)... but they have also found a pride of place in an anthology...

what colour NOSTALGIA?

this is that time of the year when we (read Bongs) go overboard with a dreaded disease, one that has only symptoms, no cure... NOSTAGIA...
while Kolkata celebrates Pujas religiously (how much is religiousity, i know not), Bongs all over the planet seem to reek with NOSTALGIA...
about how they spent their younger days, what they ate, where they went, what they drank, what they wore, how those times were different... NOSTALGIA...
peek into any social networking site, and all the Bongs have painted their profiles in one colour... NOSTALGIA...
so you have the Bongs in the US many of whom who have already celebrated the Pujas last weekend and they are saying one word through their photos... NOSTALGIA...
but ask any of us, how much we really would like to go back and work there... all the NOSTALGIA vanishes... i see very few who stay in the city and love it...
i am clear on one thing... NOSTALGIA is fine when we, each and every one of us, can pack bags right now and get back there to stay and work...
if not, just get rid of the word and dump it... and have no NOSTALGIA for NOSTALGIA...

Winpop-ping vs pantry parties

there was this company i worked for which had Winpop, a software that pops up in a small window, on our desktops, an instant messenger that enables the colleague to tell you all that s/he desires, without having to budge from the seat...
i remember having drafted an entire resignation letter for a colleague on the Winpop...
the only danger is while on the Winpop, you have a desire to pee and leave your seat without telling your colleague at the other end, the secrets can be read by all who pass by your work station...
while that is a definite disadvantage, it can be used very well for bitching at work, while seeming to work (since you are glued to your PC) and does well to hoodwink bosses in a tight company, one that literally counts the number of hours you spend at the desk...
now, of course, the place i work for, does not count the hours i spend in front of my PC, so we use the pantry when we feel the need to open our hearts out... either way, it helps us to feel light... software or no software...

married women look different

why?, though i should need to qualify the fact that it applies mostly to India... in the West, men and women, who are married/engaged, wear a ring to show that they are committed, any which way...
for us, however, we go overboard... and mind you, it is only the women by looking at whom you know their marital status... we either wear vermillion on our forehead/head (a very pan-Indian phenomena) or the mangal sutra (a neclace made of black beads and gold, again spans the entire North and West), or some specific colour bangle (white and red for Bengal; green for Maharashtra), or a coloured cloth over the waist (in Sikkim, over the baku, their traditional attire) while our men do not need to wear anything as a sign of marriage... some exceptions wear the wedding ring, but as i said, they are fewer in number than who do not...
why this difference? why should only women look married?
we have been taught that if we sport the signs of marriage, the unison will be more peaceful, his health and wealth will be protected and the marriage will last longer...
shouldn't a peaceful and long-lasting marriage, which is a partnership, be the worry both men and women?
possibly, since women traditionally do not beget wealth, they do not need to be protected... and when was their health of any concern, anyway (if it was, India would be less populated, for sure)...
what i have not understood is: how can vermillion or a mangal sutra or a colour bangle help in keeping the marriage going? or protect the man? if the man is so invincible (again a product of the same culture), why should he need protection????
women, as usual, have gone on sporting the sign(s) of being married, without questioning... so it is odd when you have some, like me, who do not abide by such rules... except a bangle which could pass off as an ordinary adornment, i do not sport any sign of being married... and mind you, i do use the vermillion when i feel like using it as a cosmetic, or the mangal sutra that goes as an accessory...
i have been asked this many times and my retort, depending on my mood and who asks, has varied between a casual smile (meaning, i will not reply to your intrusion) to 'what does B wear for me?' (to those, who, i thought, needed to think before asking such silly questions)...
now of course, after 17+ years of sticking to my guns, i am left alone...

Sayonara Singur... you can sulk or agitate, it means nothing

Indian national, regional and the international media have catapulted Singur, a sleepy hamlet in Hooghly district, in West Bengal, India to fame, thanks to the Tata Motors factory that was to have rolled out the wonder $2500 car this month...
... we already have gone past the events and placed the factory to "was to have rolled out,"... in the past tense since Ratan Tata has announced that he is moving out of the State...
what this decision will do to Brand Bengal, time will say... because even the so-called Brand Bengal is the brain child of a political party that has to its credit, the singular achievement of closing down countless factories and plants.
who is to blame for this? well, Ratan Tata blamed Trinamool leader, Mamata Banerjee, which many, including Banerjee, have interpreted as being coached by the Left. If this is not far-fetched, what can be?
we more or less know what all have transpired between the impasse which started in late August... the Opposition led by Trinamool Congress started a dharna in front of the Tata Motors factory which was operational for the first three days, after which the Tatas issued a Press Release and closed the plant effective August 28, post which the Governor stepped in (an unpreceedented move in India's constitutional democracy)and put the two parties to a dialogue and coming out with a formula of settlement... the bickering continued, with each side accusing the other of having not met the terms of the formula...
while these bickerings will continue, what does it mean for the ordinary, average non-political man? without doubt, it is a jolt... a jolt to the dreams of working within the State and not moving out, of earning a livelihood staying at home, since the auto major would have brought a slew of investments by ancillaries... Tata Motors had even started the training of some young men and women for their forthcoming employment with them. While he did mention that these people will be absorbed wherever the new factory comes up, it is doubtful since it will clash with the new people whose land he will need to build the new factory, in some other State...
Mamata will continue her political life, the Left will try to woo someone else to come and build Brand Bengal to reality... hopefully, the latter will learn that land cannot be taken summarily and will involve the Opposition before sealing a deal in future, but what happens to those whose land has gone to the Tatas where they will not be able to farm and some member of the family is half-trained?
any answer Mr Bhattacharya? or Ms Banerjee?
hopefully, we will rememeber when we cast our votes next election and not swallow whatever they tell us, Left or Trinamool...

my bankers and me

this is a joke at work that i have a thingi (read soft spot) for bankers... my explanation is that, since i have for a long stretch worked for financial institutions, i possibly understand them better... but that has not stopped the joke from rolling on, so much so that after a heavenly time at a spa when i messaged my superior that i was on seventh heaven and cloud nine, she messaged back, "which banker are you with?"... this was fine... honestly, there was no grouse...

switch scene home... B receives a mail from our banker in India, addressed to Mrs B, that they are in the process of shifting the bank branch and we are requested to empty the locker since the bank will not be responsible for any loss or damage that occurs... while B sends a strong reply, cc-ing me in, threatening to complain to the banking Ombudsman since the bank, by its locker facility, is doing a custodial service and cannot absolve itself of responsibility, the banker calls me to say that what we meant by the mail was that if there are breakable items, the locker-holders need to empty the lockers and that security was his responsibility... he assures me, and i hang the phone on a high...

when i say this to the banker at home, B retorts, "he called you? Oh my God, flirting at this distance? i will still want a written reply and a call to my wife will not suffice"... he is not joking, but serious...

i am sandwiched... between two bankers, none of whom i can ignore... B for obvious reasons and that guy who has my locker, some investments... what am i to do??????

i am shocked and sad...

really... and for me, this is a rare combination which occurs when my belief in somebody i have known and respected is shattered... the shock is because that someone chose a path to becoming rich which, by any stretch of imagination, cannot be dubbed honest (so the major question in my mind -- why did he do so?)... sadness is because my repect for him was misplaced...
i am talking of a gentleman, X, who hailed from a Dalit (the lowest caste in India) famliy, went on to major in Economics, earn a doctorate from an Ivy League University in the US, returned and joined the apex bank of the country, rose meteorically, served in the IMF, is currently the VC of a University in India... this is all that i knew since i was a colleague of his wife, have been to their home, and have taken great comfort from her when R was a toddler and she used to advise me on the home-growm recipes to keep cough and cold away... i remember how we while leaving Mumbai for good, landed at her home since the company flat had to be handed over within office hours and the train would leave Mumbai only at night... i called her and she said, "do not go anywhere but to my home. you will have dinner and leave." we were relieved... she fed us, looked after us and saw us off from the city which was our first home and she broke down as the train left... that was in early 1998...
10 years back...

yesterday, we were home with an acquaintance and he too has come here from the same bank that the venerated gentleman, X, worked... this guy mentioned that X had a very tarnished reputation, that the home, in one of the poshest localities of Mumbai, was acquired by doubtful means, that the car they rode was a favour from someone else... i virtually dropped off my chair, could not believe my ears... since then, i have just been recounting all the times that i had met him, the brightness of the eyes, the scholarly look, the pride in his gait, all of it a great sham package... how? and why?... is this being worldly? is this being wise? then why create the aura? why the appearance of living life by values? why? why? why? why?...

participative reciprocity...

my take on this is that, while we try to learn and incorporate the local culture by not only observing their ways of life (which should be done, living as we are over here), we also try and read their literature to understand them better...
recently, i read Naguib Mahfouz's Palace of Desire...it depicts Egyptian culture so vividly that i felt like discussing Mahfouz with some Egyptian colleagues... in fact, one of the characters in the book was so much like a colleague of mine... and when i said so, he agreed whole heartedly...
but will they bother to read Tagore's Gitanjali? the parallels are clear... both are Nobel Laureates in Literature...
i have my doubts... we are far more accommodative, far more assimilative... that is what we have been taught and that is what we believe... whether or not others reciprocate...

am i getting anomie?

possibly, yes...
i love to be alone and i do not feel lonely... i love my own company and do not miss anyone else's... for me, life today is all that i do with myself... what i read, where can the next book come from, what i write, how well i do that (since that pays for my little indulgences in life), how i dress, how well i have slept yesterday night, rushing off for the after-dinner walks, what will i blog on next, where will the next vacation be (incidentally, India is no more a vacation i look forward to... it is more of social nicety which makes me tired beyond one week, no matter the great food, the familiar smells, the familiar sights, the famliar people)...
so i am happy alone, happy...i really do not have too many friends and do not miss having loads of them; am in touch with very few people from my past, carefully chosen and that is the way i would like it, brushing aside all attempts at being pried upon...
even the Eid break that we are having now, is getting me tired... since i am not getting enough me-time... so every now and then, i keep running to my books, without being able to concentrate fully... and that is making me irritated, impatient (what is new???), angry (is this new???)... i want to get back to my normal routine where the day moves in clock-work precision and i have my own things to do, in my own time and pace...
so next time there is a holiday, i will need to plan it differently... take a vacation, may be...