Morning raga

The doc says one needs at least 8 hours of sleep a day. Eight nice tight hours, with stages N1, N2, N3; NREM sleep and REM sleep. Alpha waves, sleep spindles, and much much deep wave sleep: they've researched them all. What nobody seems to really care about is how one is supposed to wake up.

It all begins with some damn alarm screaming its head off. For the first few seconds, I'm not even sure what is going on. Why is that dang voice so upset, where am I (more importantly, who am I), and why am I not sleeping ... "Screw it", I think, and try to bury my head a little deeper in the pillow. Oh but my dear, only if your problems went away when you buried your head in the sand. Yeah, I know, they don't. :( So I have to peep out of the pillow, open half an eye, and fish out my hand in the general direction the sound is coming from. The chill of the surrounding air tries to bite into the hand even in those stolen moments. The mind screams out, "Oh shh shh shh... come on, come on... find it, and slam it. Yes yes of course dear you can come back into the blanket right away. Oh yes I'll bury you right in, right below me and warm you up. Just one slam.. SLAM! Ahh... mission accomplished. Come back, quick!"

Then the magic of sleep ensconces me once again. Deep, sweet and luscious — the sleep right after you've been startled out of it once. The little crack around the blanket that had opened up when I put my hand outside keeps teasing me. Bursts of chilled air keep tickling the spine amidst the warm air inside. And it gets maddening! The shiver that runs down my spine makes me lift the blanket once and try to cover myself fully by rolling around a little. And damn the forgetful morning mind... cold air rushes in from all sides! I drag my legs together, curl up, and go hh-hh-hh-h-h-h-uh; trying desperately to warm up the air and myself. At that moment, I'd give anything to reach that perfect temperature again and sink back into sleep. Bliss, bliss... bliss.

And the dang alarm rings once again. This time, it is the mobile phone. Sitting far out at the other end of the room. I don't want to wake up, don't want to leave the blanket. But the alarm keeps ringing. And the alarm keeps ringing. And I hear the alarm. It keeps ringing... it keeps nagging. The alarm keeps ringing. The blanket must be removed at one go. Three, two, one... go! Ohh the chill.. ooooh the shivering queasy cruel chill... damn it! Somehow all the phrases coming to my mind at this time all start with the letter 'F'. My bleary eyes search for my t-shirt. It is lying right across, on the chair. I desperately grab it, put it on, and feel warm immediately.

You know, the tinier the controls are for figuring out how to dismiss an alarm, the more effective it is. I swear mentally, desperately trying to open my eyes just to find out which god-damned button to press. The alarm is still ringing. It is still ringing. Ahh finally, found it. Thank god thank god... the sound is gone. Thank sweet jeebus of a god. And then the debate begins... can I sleep some more? Just five more minutes, perhaps? Oh please... five minutes late to the office can't kill anyone. Just two minutes then? Oh what is the use anyway... yeah okay... I'll head towards the loo. Hmmmm.... hm hm hm hmmmm

So I've been speaking of the weekdays only, right? I can go into another detail of the weekend sleep and the comforts of the night before. But I'll pass on that. Let me instead tell you what happened this last weekend. I woke up. No alarms screaming, no mobile phones ringing. Just plain 9:15 am on the clock. I felt sad immediately... shit I don't want to be late for the office! Shed off the blanket. Sat up. Was rubbing my eyes... okay now where is the t-shirt... when will this weekend come? Sigh. And then I suddenly remembered, ohhh! IT IS a Saturday morning! And IT IS 9:15! Ohh ohh ohh... I can tell you, I've never pulled up my blanket so eagerly before. Never went off to sleep with more heartfelt glee of indescribable permission before! :)

On gender equalism

A few people raised objections to certain words in the last post (A nation of bitches), since they felt they were sexist in nature and they generally show women in poor light. I actually have been churning the thoughts about this post for a while, so I think now would be a good time to tell you what my thoughts on "feminism" are, and where I stand generally over the issue. It took me a rather long pause of mental churning to come up with this post - honestly it has helped me verbalize a lot of what I have personally believed in and acted upon for a long time. And oh, before you continue with the post (and might I warn you, I already know this is going to be a long post), please remember that this is just what I think and what my impressions are. I may be wrong, but I'd appreciate a healthy debate over a vituperous firestorm.

First of all, let me tell you what I understand of the word feminism. I believe it stands for not treating women as second class human beings.This includes respecting their opinion, acknowledging* their equal intellectual status, and also not taking advantage of the physical disparities between the genders to physically assault or otherwise intimidate women through the sheer advantage of physical force. This part I agree with, wholeheartedly. Somewhere down the line, however, I think we have moved into the mindset that it is only men who are capable of exploiting the difference between the sexes to cause hurt. And for some extreme radicals, I think it has also moved into a general hatred for men. I'd call this "militant feminism". And it is this second part that I disagree with. Because I don't think it's fair: it is a two-way street and there are examples of the worst of the kind on either side of the fence. Women can make life a living hell for men as well. And certainly more for someone who has trusted them and been emotionally vulnerable to them. But beyond pointing fingers, not everything a feminist (as I understand) would object to or point out as a symbol of male oppression is so in my book. However many personal proofs you might have had of men being pigs (and I too personally have), there are gentlemen in the world as well. And the biggest objection I have is to the word "feminism" itself - why only feminism? Why not gender equalism?
*[Update - I had used the phrase "giving them" here instead of the now rectified "recognizing their". My apologies to all who read the earlier version of this post - I meant acknowledging/recognizing. It cannot ever be given by men because it was never ours in the first place.]

And so we move into the politically incorrect statements: men and women are not equal, and I'm not even thinking of the physical differences here. I am talking about emotional and psychological differences that affect our behaviour all the time. Yes I do think that women approach any situation much differently than men do, they have a different perspective* and approach to a lot of things in life. They are more co-operative, socially responsible and more sensitive than men. Relationships, mutual bonding and civil connections matter a lot more to them. And they revel in the comfort of being surrounded by loved ones, sharing feelings and emotions.
*[Update - the phrase here was "(and for the lack of a better word) emotional"... which someone rightly pointed out to me was self-contradictory to the meaning and direction of the post. I can't find a word here that should fit the bill of what I want to say, but yes emotional is definitely not it.]

And this is where things start getting interesting - how does a relationship work, then, in the whole perspective? I think a woman needs to look up to her man, literally. Maybe its just the male ego talking, but the difference of heights does start the whole process of being "impressed", provided you are not a guy ogling at her breasts at the time. (And no, that is not a prerequisite). As a guy I'm looking to find someone I can care about and someone who makes me feel loved and wanted: someone to believe in me and trust me. It feels good as a man to have someone asking for my opinion about something, knowing that it will matter. So in the fairytale of romance, as a man, it does feel good to have been the one proposing and winning my bride over. As a man it does feel good to pleasantly surprise her time to time, or to do something brave (or perhaps equally headstrong) among my peers in front of her - it is tough to explain why a really stupid challenge becomes a do-or-die ego battle for us.* And this is nowhere degrading to the woman: I'd say, in fact, far from it. I believe women love to have "their man" do a lot of this stuff... taking charge, comforting them when they're down in a well for no apparent reason, bringing flowers or cards and chocolates. It reaffirms at every step that yes the man cares deeply enough to do these things, and the occasional assertive order from the guy tends to abstract the need to think and worry about things in life. It feels good to have someone else in charge telling you what exactly needs to be done to keep things going right, especially from someone you trust, doesn't it?
*[Update - there was a statement here that read "So yes the onus of proposing, taking charge of a relationship and generally taking a lot of decisions and guiding it anywhere does fall on the man - it rather comes naturally to us.". I don't think it is right, or at least does not convey what I mean to say here. I have modified the sentence now to read "So in the fairytale ... battle for us". And I have deliberately avoided saying that the man ought to be the one guiding a relationship - what I wrote earlier is wrong. Perhaps as a man just want to have my way from time to time, without imposing myself.]

Something else needs to be clarified, here, though: when does the assertive command become an imposition on your independence? I've seen it happen myself. My aunt was answering some question from a lot of us relatives visiting her place and her husband had also started talking at the same time. He turned towards her and uttered a sharp rebuke, "Why do you need to answer the question when I'm already speaking?". I saw her smile fade away instantaneously and the embarrassment evident on her face. I couldn't protest, being a kid in the midst of adults, but I think my mother or some other sister of hers had gone and talked to her about this. That is exactly where the matter of trust and endearing control takes a turn for the vulgar. Love should stop being trusted as love when it becomes a manner of manipulative and subjugative control.

How about chivalry, then? Doesn't that go against the tenet of gender equalism, judging by the fact that holding open a door is precipitated by neither physical incapability of women or the concept of man-in-charge? Simply put, it is an act of love; or rather a token of love and respect even for a lady I do not know at a random bookstore. Again, this isn't degrading in any manner: it simply feels good to be doing this for her. The simple smile or the genuine thank you makes it worth doing this gesture. Part of it might be a social norm or a custom from the Victorian era (holding a door open, seriously?), but part of it is also good manners. So yes, gentlemen, please hold open the door for the lady, and let her get into the car first, and close the door after her. And ladies, no, it is by no means an attempt to show you as weaklings - it is just what it is - holding open a door to make one less thing for you to do in the whole of your long day of little invisible chores that keep the rest of us sane.

A word about common vocabulary here would be befitting, I suppose. Some words simply propagate stereotypes, I agree. So Richa, while I could not think of a better word than "effeminate" in the last post, and although I explained myself as such, in hindsight I think I put a tacit nod to the concept of women being defenseless weaklings by just using that term there. Yes, if no other word fit the sentence, I should probably have chosen a different sentence. Each joke , for that matter, going around your email forwards about guys or girls is eventually reinforcing or making us laugh at a stereotype. And I do genuinely laugh at them: after reading them you realize that yes indeed these are true, and yes one can accept the difference and share a joke about this without taking insult. I knew a girl once who we used to call by her pet name. When I met her as an adult once and addressed her such, she almost growled in reply asking me to utter her full name, adding later on that men have reduced women to mere objects by not even uttering their full names. See, that is where you are on the other side of the line dividing the good and the bad of feminism in my understanding, and I certainly wish to walk the plank carefully. Having said that, yes, some terms are offensive in what they base the implication on, whether it be 'effeminate' or 'manly woman'.

And finally, what of surname changes and staying home, quitting your job and stuff like that just because you got married? Let me talk of the second one first. whoever is married to me will never hear from me, "There is no need to keep doing your office job now... quit it and take care of the kids at home". See, the point of freedom and gender equalism is just this: for the person to take a decision like this by herself, and do what she wishes to do with both our best interests in mind. My mother has been a working mother for all of my life, and that hasn't affected the way me or my siblings have grown up in any way. I'm in fact proud to call her the super-mom, the one who showed us that it is indeed possible to pull off such a daunting task so magnificently. I'd rather encourage my wife to continue with her studies, continue her job, or stay at home... whichever suits her best. And if she chooses the last option, I would know that it is a huge sacrifice, and an act of love. And what about the surname change? I'm not a stickler for it, but it would make me feel very happy to see an invitation card to someone else's wedding or family ceremony that comes addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Chatterjee". It would make me feel like I have a family, and that she is a part of it, she belongs there. Never a prerequisite, but always welcome.

To conclude, then, the reasons I dislike the term "feminism" and do not consider myself a feminist, per se, is the fact that I don't agree with everything what I think I am supposed to agree with when I sign up for the camp. Mr Muthalik asking women to not to go a pub because it would spoil Indian culture? Fuck you! Mr. Sarkozy banning the burkha from public places in France? Again, stupid and oppressive. Let one decide for herself whether she should go to a pub or not, wear her burkha or not, stay at home or not, or for that matter marry or not. Let the man do what he considers good without imposing himself and his opinion on the woman, and let the woman do her own version of good by simply caring for someone she loves, in whatever way she deems fit. Let there be equality of the genders.

A nation of bitches

We, collectively, have become a nation of bitches. Ready to be slapped, ready to be plundered, ready to be f*** and we feel so happy about it that there is a tension and joyous build-up every time this happens. They come in hordes, kill, kidnap, murder, shoot people right in front of everyone's faces, and we go on to immortalize them by making them our idols. I am talking about the genre of Bollywood movies that have started idolizing every single gangster and hooligan who plagues the nation.

I recently learned that the movie Gangster was actually based on this dirtbag Abu Salim's life. And then started remembering Shootout at Lokhandwala, D and its sequel Company. How sick does one need to be to actually glorify someone who has come and shot your brother dead in broad daylight? And how effeminate one must be to stand in awe in front of a theater showing the life of a guy (more like hero-worshipping him) who is probably responsible for the kidnap, rape and death of your neighbour's daughter? There is a difference between depicting reality and paying homage. Vaastav and Hathyar are the former: they show the way we as a society gradually turn a simple boy into a maniac who finally has to be shot dead by his own mother. Depictions of D and Company, on the other hand, are homages to the gangsters and people who have probably killed someone you know: directly or indirectly.

And more importantly, look at the way these characters are portrayed in the movies: they are the height of coolness! There is a slick way in which they go on to kidnap little kids and extort money from a person. There is a certain aura of godly authority when they come and kill/torture a person asking for money: it is their due, of course! We don't see them as the scoundrels they are: we see these on-screen gems, performing heights of bravery, undergoing special training in shooting guns, ripping off people's chests with a blunt knife, and doing a lot of stuff. To us, they become the closest equivalent of macho men, rugged, strong people who can terrorise the police at will! And sometimes they will let the wife and kids live, out of sheer generosity. Damn cool, don't you think?

There is a new movie coming out, about guess who... Ajmal Kasab. I'm pretty sure his role will be played by some good actor. I am pretty sure as he will be shown as this dude undergoing extreme physical training under hardships, learning guerilla warfare and becoming the perfect commando. Then there will be this shot of him going around the Mumbai CST station with a gun with a certain swagger in his way of walking, just shooting some scampering rats Indians. I am pretty sure he will have a tag line and a catchy way of wearing this cap around his head that will become the next style icon. And then you will go to watch the film, dote over his acting, muse to yourself how the Pakistani terror camps make you mentally and physically strong. You will literally be in love with the guy, ready to be shot at, fucked, kidnapped all over again.

And there will be this short 10 minute segment about the police officer Hemant Karkare dodging bullets, slipping and being shot by Ajmal. He will inevitably be a fat bulging dude who just happened to be caught without his aides. And then you will see his life ending in a Clint Eastwood-esque scene with the terrorist holding the gun at his forehead and saying, "Tell me, punk, do you feel lucky?". Like I said, we are becoming a nation of bitches.

What the Americans can learn from us

I admit, I have lived in the US for just a little over three years now and probably have a very superficial knowledge of the American culture. I also admit that when I mention "us" I am counting on my experiences solely based on the places in India I've lived and at the time I've lived. There, you have the disclaimer. Now lets get to the topic: what is there in India that I think needs to be here.

Nerd is cool: Look at any recent TV serial, movie, autobiographical piece here and you'll be sure to find that being nerdy or knowing more is somehow linked to being totally uncool in school/high school here in the US. The nerd in the class is always the one getting bullied, getting his school tiffin stolen. Nobody cares about his opinion beyond the teacher in the classroom: he has very limited friends (mostly the other nerds/semi-nerds), seldom plays anything on the field and is rarely included in the team for anything. Contrast this with the image of the class topper in India. He is literally looked up to: other kids' parents want to find out where he takes tuition, what he is doing when he is not taking tuition classes, what special notes he refers to, etc. A school bully dares not mess with him: one little word of complaint can land the bully's ass in a lot of trouble. If you do not encourage your nerds, the output of the system will always be skewed. Look who is filling the ranks of your engineers and doctors: people from places where being the nerd, being ranked #1 was cool. I don't wish to advocate the kind of rat race with the extreme stressful condition that some kids undergo in India in the name of education, but rather would want a little shift in outlook and a little more encouragement for the nerd in class.

Your parents aren't your enemies: Somehow, if you are living with your parents after you're 21 years old, its the most uncool thing you could do. Girls would laugh at you in a bar, and some of your friends would actually pity you. While independence and privacy are important issues, this strict and over-zealous enforcement of no capital punishment for children ensures that they figure out one day that shouting at their dad and mother and calling them names would get him no problems and if anything would make him "cool" among his friends. No wonder people look upon visiting their parents or calling them up on their birthdays as a chore. Tell this to any Indian child and you will definitely get an incredulous look. It makes me feel good to talk to my parents, my uncles, aunts, cousins.. the whole extended family. Joint families aren't good, I know, but for some reason the concept of leaving your parents for no reason except that you have to do it just because it's cool is unacceptable to me.

Evolution vs Creationism: Honestly, I sometimes laugh my butt off when I hear this debate surrounding whether God created and put all the life forms on earth in one swoop one fine morning or was it evolution all the way. You would think that a country with close to 80% literacy and so much presence of the media all around it 24x7 would have this cleared up. But people are actually decrying Darwin here! They sometimes take this as a personal affront on Christianity and God himself. And the fact that this even qualifies as a debate is really the fun part. I can't quote an exact source here, but I remember having read somewhere that under the Bush administration this concept of Creationism was actually made a part of the school curriculum. How are we doing on the home front? My personal views of God aside, we fully acknowledge evolution, don't we? Our concept of God precludes the creation of the universe itself. You should really read this part of the Bhagavad Gita (http://www.bhagavad-gita.org/Gita/verse-11-10.html) in Chapter 11 (one of my grandfather's favourite chapters): how worlds are being created every second, how they are destroyed, and how all paths lead to One.

This is in no way an exhaustive list, and yes, it probably is very biased. Care to add something?

Tilak

I wish I had been writing about Bal Gangadhar Tilak. Instead, this post is about the euphemism for dowry that I just witnessed when I was visiting my grandparents place in Bihar. I do not wish to say that dowry is something specific to Bihar, or that the word "Tilak" is the only euphemism that exists, but the point is to make you aware that it exists by this name at this place at least: something you might be able to look out for.

Let me give you a little background about how this conversation came about. Tthis lady and her daughters were visiting our place for the traditional pranam and sweets after Bijoya Dashami (Dusshera). The eldest of her daughters was of marriageable age and she was talking to my grandfather about how she will have to arrange for enough Tilak for her. I hadn't paid much attention to the conversation until it turned to me being the topic, and with my "phoren" credentials and all she remarked that I will definitely fetch a Tilak in tens of crores. This, as I found out, was the current euphemism for dowry.

Apparently, the going rates vary as per the groom's education and salary. If you are a rickshaw puller, you can demand something in the tune of 2-3 lakh rupees. If you are at a local Railway job, your value goes up to around 10 lakhs. Same goes for bank clerks, government clerks, etc. If you are an officer of some sort, say in the government, your value immediately jumps to about Rs. 20,00,000. Software engineer in Bangalore - 350 - 400 k assured. Software engineer with a few US trips and a semi-rich family of in-laws? You can definitely settle for a crore. Mine apparently was just a few notches above this. :D

See that grinning emoticon (:D) at the end of the last paragraph? I think that points to the reason most of the grooms go for the dowry. The more money you get as part of the dowry, the more apparently is your market value and somehow the self-esteem is linked. People brag about having brought a 5-crore groom for their daughter, and the groom in turn walks about smugly in the belief that someone was ready to pay Rs. 5,00,00,000 for them to marry their daughter - wow, I must be that good! And this, I believe, is what needs to be targeted if you want to get rid of the dowry system in India.

Tell the gentlemen that they are plain whores for selling themselves out. Tell your friend that they should be ashamed to go begging to someone for money in exchange for their name. Are you really that impoverished? Where is your male ego when it comes to these matters? Why does it not pinch you to hold out your palm and beg? It's tradition, right? Your dad had it, your cousins also had it, why not you? Well, the same logic used to apply to Sati. And, to be more precise, there was also God on the side of those wanting to burn those brides. But we've since realised that the practice wasn't so rational, haven't we? So pause and think about it for a moment - do you have the balls to stop someone from burning an innocent bride? Do you have the balls to not leech off your in-law's money and make your own future? Ask your friends who you know "will" probably take a dowry - do they really compare their dick-sizes through the amount of money they can peddle their wares for?

It is a perpetual cycle, I know - you probably have your own sister to marry off and you don't want to compromise. But if you refuse to go for the dowry for her, you will probably have to search for the groom for two years instead of one. Perhaps the family will be one at a distant town far off from your place. But you will have broken the thread somewhere. And believe me, your sister will be happy in such a family. Thankfully, the practice is non-existent among us Bengalis, except a few bastards who suddenly develop a few "shaukh"-s right before their marriage and their doting mother or mama comes to tell you about it in private.

So yes, I am proud to have talked to at least some of my personal friends about this, trying my best to convince them to break the chain in their respective families. Here at my grandparents place I could not ask them not to not pay a dowry or change their personal beliefs - doing so in this case was beyond a certain line that I could not cross. But both my grandfather and I could proudly shake our heads and say that we would never accept a dowry in any form from anybody. And to my wifey: honey, whenever you read this, if at any time I ask you to bring money from your parents as dowry, please do me a favour and shoot me before my conscience wakes up to face this ignominy. Heh.. wait... a few tens of crores... hmmm... :)

Season's greetings

Hi to all my regular readers and the chance visitors. Wish you all a very happy Durga Dasami, Dusshera and Eid Mubarak. I am in India these days and well, quite honestly not in a mood to post much. Will write after I get back. Enjoy! :)

Expat

The first time I had ever stepped out of India was when I was visiting Scotland, about 3-4 years ago. During a break within that time, I visited my grandparents' place: something I always look forward to whenever I go home. One or two days into my visit there, I was going about my business as usual: getting pampered, eating tons of great food, hanging around my grandparents and sharing their stories of the day, etc. After one of those dull moments of conversation when everyone ponders to think what to say next, my grandma suddenly remarked to grandpa, "He hasn't changed one bit, right?"; and my grandpa smiled and looked at me and said, "No, he hasn't".

Up until that time, the idea that I might "change" because I was living in the UK or the US hadn't even occurred to me. And frankly, I thought, what change could one undergo within six months of leaving the country? Or does one form a bias after he/she has left the shores? About a year after I had quit my job, I was chatting with a friend in Mumbai. I had casually joked with him about the crowd on the local trains. He however became very defensive, telling me that a lot has changed since I left Mumbai and that I should see things for myself first and then make prejudiced guesses that are set in the time when I had last seen the place. Believe me, I was very very surprised.

Over time, however, as I have analyzed this, I think I know why and how. And unfortunately I too have contributed to this system of belief at some time, in my own ways. At the core of it is the fear that we'll lose someone close to us: either to the pleasures or sins of the unknown Western world. Because there have been countless other examples where someone near and dear became this spoilt American kid who can't drink water without it being from a bottle of Bisleri. A basic level of distrust sets in: more so since a lot of such 'phoren'-returns begin to comment derogatorily about things which they grew up around. Perhaps it is the new-found freedom of expression and free speech that makes the criticism from them take a certain barb. Or perhaps it is just the slight accent that creeps in over time into the way they speak, the sudden accumulation of phrases and expressions in their speech that are 'outlandish', or maybe simply the way they dress that make them stand out in a crowd.

Thankfully, we as a society are becoming more open to things, and the media with all its shortcomings is beginning to show us the world around through live broadcast. So a lot of the US knows that we are not a third-world country by any means, and a lot of India is getting to learn that the US is also not the pinnacle of human achievement either. And I think the whole purpose of globalization is finally to share information and show the reality by example rather than hearsay. There are a lot of myths that I often need to address: like are there beggars in the US? Or do the cars run by themselves or do people actually need to drive them? And it is the same the other way around as well. I was asked in the UK (by a lady who was getting drunk, I admit), if we had roads in India, if people traveled on elephants, etc. It is the media and global collaboration that must debunk any such notions and help us have proof of all we believe in.

As far as me changing as a person is concerned: yes I believe my thought process is evolving constantly, and yes the circumstances do dictate a lot of it. I think I switch accents whenever I begin talking to an American guy rather than an Indian guy, albeit unconsciously. People used to look at me differently even when I was home from my school at the Ramakrishna Mission: like I should be a model boy for everyone else around me. But at the core I think the seed has been whatever values I've learned at home, by observing my parents and grandparents at close quarters. The blossom of the tree might take a lot of different shapes and colors, but the basic instincts of right and wrong and moral judgement are tough to change. I know I would feel at home wherever I am loved and wherever I can connect, be it my hometown or be it my place of work in the US: I would never be an expat.

To my agony nephews

On popular demand: a masala post. Also, popular demand included taking digs at guys rather than girls for a change. Meh, so be it :D

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The downside of being a guy who listens and can solve your problems is that sometimes all sorts of weird questions keep popping up, especially related to relationships and marriage. So here is an FAQ of sorts for all ye gentlemen who seek relationship/marriage advice from me. Ladies, you are a completely different ball game (no pun intended). I could probably write an entire new blog for the sort of questions and troubles you come up with. But today, we shall have a little man-to-man discussion:

Q: What are your credentials?
A: (Okay so folks don't ask me this, but I guess we need to clarify this first). My credentials in terms of marriage and relationships aren't spectacular. (Blog readers: yeah keep guessing :P) So any and all advice you get from me would consist mostly of my observations of other working or non-working relationships, or a few past experiences of my own personal life. In general, though, as you will find, I am pretty accurate in guessing what someone else is thinking and can therefore help you in lots of ways with this information.

Q: Does my girlfriend/fiance/would-be look pretty?
A: WTF. Seriously, that is one line I do not wish to cross. And use your own judgement - you will date/marry her... not I!

Q: I keep sending these messages and "express interests" to lots of people on shaadi.com but nobody replies.
A: Umm... I think the fact that your profile name reads "New_Seduction" might have something to do with it. Perhaps you confuse this with a dating website.

Q: When I try to tell her a solution to a problem in her life, she flares up.
A: Look, you don't need to solve something for her. She just needs to be assured that you care enough to listen.

Q: But I am already listening!
A: Egg-jaactly. Don't screw it up for yourself by opening your mouth.

Q: How do I impress her?
A: Very simple - get yourself into trouble on her behalf. Do her homework, clean her fridge, or simply pick a fight with some guy who was arguing with her over the solution to some math problem, lets say. Two-three punches ought-a do it.

Q: Don't know how to tell her that I love her.
A: It's not you, it's your hormones that love her. But if you seriously do, then you wouldn't need to ask me.


Q: How do I know if she is interested?
A: Does she get fidgety when you are around? Or remember sudden things to do? Or maybe behave like a klutz? Then she's probably interested.


Q: There is this one guy she keeps talking about all the time, I feel threatened.
A: Buddy, every girl has these one or two guy friends who she confides in and them you absolutely don't need to worry about.

Q: I'm interested, but I act stupid when I talk to her.
A: Ha ha at you.

Q: We were at this dinner together and then I spilled the whole glass of water onto her lap.
A: Ha ha ha ha.

Q: She tried to introduce me to this fat ugly girlfriend of hers.
A: Ha ha ho ho hee hee.

Q: I'm bored, I want to break up with her.
A: Oh I have a full post on that: A crash course in dumping girlfriends.

(This one has been my personal favourite) Q: We are in this relationship for so long, but how do I proceed to a little more "intimate" level?
A: hmmmmmmm

Lets make the world a better place

The video below is one of my favourite ones on TED. Do enjoy:

Move it, fatso

One of these days I was dusting a weighing scale we have in our kitchen and thought it would be a good idea to find out my weight after all the stuff I eat and all the excuses I find for not going to the gym/jogging/playing after work. I don't wish to tell you my weight at present, but lets just say I heard a faint cracking sound when I stepped on it. :P So this is mostly a motivational post aimed at myself.
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You know I am talking to you. Don't step back and take that smug air that this article is aimed at someone else who really needs exercise. Yes - face it. You need it, fatso! It is you who needs to get out and jog, not someone else.

We've all heard your dinner table conversations about how you need to exercise. "Seriously, I need to get some exercise - this fat is not good", you keep repeating. Or you say "Oh my stamina is getting low, I know... lets make a plan and start from next week". You liar - you filthy cowardly liar: you are lying to yourself. Move it, get out there and do something.

Feel alive, gentlemen! Get out there and smash something! Stop going into that pile of boredom, of the stupor you're slipping into every day. Wake up, wake up! All those excuses are bullshit! Yeah we know you've worked hard all day at your desk. Yes we know there is stuff to be done, emails to be answered, people to be called, clothes to be put to laundry, and so on and so forth. Is your miserable life limited to that? Is that all you can think of as the summary of your life - answering emails and doing laundry? Are you so much in awe of yourself that you are doing exactly what others have asked you to do? Get over with it. Stop bothering about what needs to be done for everyone else. Do something for yourself!

You don't need the gym, you don't need the treadmill, and you don't need the joggers' park either. Those are little sponge-covered amusement parks for children. Have you become so much of a daddy's little girl that you must only play inside the little kitty park where you've been asked to? Get up, man! Go run around the building. Pick a fight! Fight against yourself, fight against your inner sloth. Take up the reins, proclaim that you are in charge of what becomes of you. Let all else go to hell. Take a cycle and just race - race fast, race against yourself. Feel the thrill. Feel the blood in your veins. Give up the delusion that all is good. All isn't good. Go out there, work a sweat, breathe! Thats right - breathe with your lung full, breathe in gasps, breathe like you need the air, breathe with flared nostrils, breathe like you can empty the air around you!

Remember how it used to feel like when you used to come back from the field after a passionate afternoon of football? Remember the thrill of the fight, the chase after the ball, the thumping heart, the tense sinews and the gritted teeth? What are you doing now? How are you lost? Yes you namby pamby wad of fat - do it! Get up, get up, get up - walk out through that door, and just walk for a mile. You don't need a reason to leave the desk for fifteen minutes: just do it and bother about the reason later on. No the time of your life isn't over. It is there - it is right there beside you. Grab it! You are only as old as you think yourself to be. Leave your desk, leave all those comments and remarks from others behind. Boo hoo to them - let whoever is judging you go to hell. Stop giving a damn about those losers - it is your life! You need to take action. Step up to the challenge, go out there and prove to yourself that you can do it. Take chances, take one chance. Don't even bother about running or jogging. Can you take those first steps? Lets see it - lets see your manliness in action. Yes this moment. Now, right now. It is now or never. Right now. End of post. If you have the balls, go out there, walk briskly, for just ten minutes, and walk back. Feel the rush. Can you?

A matter of faith

Sanjay from the Dwarka Parichay blog invited me for a guest post. It is published there now with the same title: http://dwarkaparichay.blogspot.com/2009/07/matter-of-faith.html

Economists are always baffled by the apparent stupidity of humans. They seem to make some decisions which are completely irrational, and go completely against any form of rational logic.Take, for example, the fact that people go ahead and buy lottery tickets. As any statistician can tell you, the probability that you will win a 10 crore rupee prize after buying a one rupee lottery ticket is about the same as that of you getting the money after you flush the one rupee note down the toilet. And yet, people do it. What perhaps the academicians forget is that that one rupee also buys them some hope, a promise of untold riches and even for one moment, buys them a smile on the face.

Perhaps you've already guessed where this is going; our favourite topic - God. Does it not occur to you at times that you are talking to thin air when you're praying? Don't you sometimes feel like snapping fingers in front of someone who is talking to a mound of clay and asking them to wake up? Or otherwise, don't you sometimes feel this huge urge to shake those atheists and tell them, "Wake up - don't you see the work of God all around you?". Sometimes don't you pity those who're blind to the divine presence? Whether or not this God exists, the question is, does the thought comfort you to know that someone is there? Or does the matter of God present you with a challenge - something that prompts you to forge your own destiny and to show others, "Look - I did it without your God".

Both sides ought to learn tolerance, I think. If you believe in God, well, be at peace with it. If you fanatically pick fights with atheists or the sceptics to prove that God exists, you will not come away any wiser. On the other hand, if you are one of those who thinks that the god delusion will pass similar to the flat world delusion, again, be at peace. Trying to rub your disbeliefs and scientific proofs into the pious man will get you nowhere except causing the man mental agony. Sometimes, though, you need to step in. If you see a man bereft of hope who seems to be fighting a losing battle against the many turmoils of life, maybe prayer will bring him some relief. Or for that matter, if you find a man being cowered into shelling out hard earned money to some temple because God ordered a minimum donation - give him good advice and ask him to see reason. At the end of the day, its a matter of faith.

I know what you're thinking - if a matter of faith applies to this, then all vampires, ghosts, spirits, astrology - its all a matter of faith, isn't it? How do you prove or disprove any of that? The point is - you can't. All you can do is to choose to believe what comforts you the most. Perhaps I should add a little personal touch to this. About God - I'm sceptical. To quote, I think "God is a mean kid sitting on an anthill with a magnifying glass". But I tend to lose myself in some devotional songs at times, and love the simply serenity that overcomes you once you are in a temple. There has been more bloodshed in the history of mankind in the name of God than anything else. And yet, a lot of our family gatherings and social events centre around this God. Whether you fast or not on a day which is auspicious or normal, and whether you started your business on a Friday or a Saturday, its a matter of faith.

NABC Diaries - the trap

My room-mate, Anirban, recently attended the "North American Bengali Conference" which happened over the July 4th weekend. In a way, he was "invited" to this august assembly: he was roped in as a volunteer (He insists it was he who had offered his services voluntarily). He has started chronicling his experiences from the conference on his new blog, called "Anirban Ubacho: অনির্বাণ উবাচ". If you are a Bengali, please pause reading this post right now, and head over to that one. For those of you not familiar with the nuances and innuendos that one can slyly put across through my mother tongue, here is a rough attempt to translate the first post into English. And believe me, as I even approach this task, I sometimes wish I could just plug in that little Bengali word here or quote that little idiom there to express myself. Note that this is not a translation by the letter: I've taken certain creative liberties myself. However, if you feel offended by anything written below, you know I have faithfully translated that section word by word from the original and you know who to sue. :D
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NABC Diaries: the trap

When a creature of such momentous talent as the lazy Bengali (and that too an NRI software engineer) sits around at a table discussing the IPL or the latest recession over cups of tea, his biggest philosophical cogitation is best described as "live easy, take it easier". And in one of those ironies which God designs picture perfect, such people are always spotted by extremely industrious philanthropic busybodies who've lost their bearing, otherwise known as the NABC central leadership command. NABC, by the way, stands for North American Bengali Conference (the Bengalis call it the "bongo"-sammelan). I keep repeating this lest I forget the full name. Although, I don't think I'll particularly regret losing this nugget of information.

This year, an ancient Bengali organization from the Bay Area of California, known as "প্রবাসী" (Probasi, the expatriates) were in charge. In the US, anything over 25 years old qualifies as historical and by those standards, this particular organization definitely reaches par at antediluvian. A few members of said organization had even quit their jobs in the past six months to ensure the success of this (ad)venture. One feels confident  that the supreme sacrifice of these gentlemen for their fellow Bengalis shall one day be juxtaposed over heated discussions and cups of hot tea against that of Rabindranath Tagore renouncing his knighthood.

A local acquaintance had informed me that there was a "food trial" going on for the NABC. As a Bengali, I consider it my moral responsibility to attend any such food trials and therefore showed up there post haste. It turned out, a particular South Indian restaurant was given the contract of preparing traditional Bengali food. The new cookbook that was produced for them had a particular sentence cirled in red and double-underlined. It said, "If you substitute the coconut with poppy seeds (পোস্ত) in any South Indian recipe, it will immediately be hailed as traditional Bengali cuisine". This, it seemed, the proprietor had took to heart. And of course, the Bengali needs his fish. Therefore, said restaurant owner had escalloped a certain spicy curry of catfish which failed to appease most of the room. Half of them had actually tasted a traditional Bengali freshwater fish curry before and the other half were still shaking their heads as vigorously in disapproval; it was pretty hard to tell who was who. Due to certain "unforeseen complications" during the preparation of the paneer curry, it had appeared at the bin mentioned "Paneer curry" without the paneer in it. A swan in all its majesty can drink just the milk out of a dilute solution of milk and water. The few people who had reached the venue early had reached an exact level of spiritual enlightenment by successfully extracting the meatballs out of the potato-meatball curry. Of course, in the abject self-repentment of this act, they had now turned their attention to the few boxes of sweets and were now trying to drown their depression through sugar syrups.

The remnants of the food that remained at the buffet had to suffice for the $10 I had paid to get hold of a plate. I came to know that the actual chef who was to be flown in from Kolkata had been denied a visa. This apparently had not surprised anybody who has been to past NABC-s. Which now begged the bigger question: who was the chief instructor in the kitchen tonight, then? It turned out that a certain Rakhi-di had been specially flown in from Houston to take the reins of the wild horses in the kitchen. Her clothing was still a little 'airy' to disaffect the heat from the kitchen. A lot of those who were loquacious in their praise of that night's dinner were definitely thinking either "I probably wouldn't have regretted missing this trial" or "At least this is better than what my wife cooks".

One must strike while the iron is hot and therefore I was requested to volunteer at the conference just as things were wrapping up that night. Of course, the silent fine print said that the food still wasn't free during the conference and I had to pay and register. But the spicy catfish in my stomach decreed against any sudden attempts at running away. I signed up to be a volunteer at the North American Bengali Conference: I had stepped into the trap.

A day in the life of a new Indian housewife in the US

Thank you everybody for all those comments on the last post - yeah it made me feel a lot better :). Actually, I was curious about who are the 181 readers who show up on FeedBurner but I don't get to see them ever on comments, etc. But now I know - cheers! :)

About this post - the editor of a magazine from Bangalore had asked me to write a chatty gossip column (you know he found the right person, didn't you? :P). However, it has been three weeks since I have sent the article and he hasn't replied to my emails or my phone call. So I'm publishing this article here. If he contacts me, I'll write another article for the magazine again. Enjoy :)

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7:00 am – I woke up. No new Orkut scraps – life is boring. Nope, my cute hubby is still asleep. His drooling mouth looks so cute. Nudged him – leaving bed now.


8:00 am - Hubby still in bed. This has become a daily routine. You try to wake him up, kiss him, and he wants to drag you into bed. Then a little reminder, “You should join the gym, you know” quickly gets him out of bed. Works like a charm, every single time.


9:00 am - No new Orkut scraps. You know, something seems not quite right. When I reminded him of our evening Walmart trip, he started munching through the breakfast toast so much faster. Why does he complain that I am always nagging: I just reminded him that the gym might be good for him. He sort of left in a hurry.


10:00 am – Finally, I see a friend online. Ooh this is great! Oh seriously? No way... Shweta's ex sent her an email? Are they getting back together? No? She's so stupid! Oh he's going for an arranged marriage? Does that other girl know? Don't you just HATE it when Orkut says you are typing messages too fast?


11:00 am – Mom is online – time for the daily update! I can also start cooking in parallel. Mom says new neighbor's distant nephew has a girlfriend. Cooking can wait – oh totally! Wow... this girlfriend turns out to be my ex-classmate's school friend. Time to tell mom about the rumour that the classmate ran off with Rahul once. Umm... I might have started it after seeing her once with the guy; but whatever.


12:00 noon – Discussing with mom – oh you have so many maids at home: I know... we have to load the dishwasher ourselves! So what if one maid didn't come today? Well yeah I know... you can never trust them. Did you see the latest pictures? Yeah I know the hubby is getting fat. Oh yes I know... must ask him to go to the gym. Well, he never listens to a word I say: tells me I am always nagging him. Want to see? Wait, here... let me call him. Oh My God... why does he not pick up the call at the first ring?! There must be something at the office – sometimes I just don't understand him! “Hey honey... so just calling to remind you that we're going to Walmart today: jaldi aana!”. “Yes dear... I know you are always there when I need you”. “Oh by the way did you take a look at that gym membership coupons I showed you?” “Hello? Hello?...”

1:00 pm – Opened Youtube: must watch Indian Idol and finish lunch. Mmm... these pakodas are good: I'm impressed with myself! They eliminated the cute guy! Bad. Stupid, stupid voters! Damn you … can't you get rid of that girl with the ridiculous make-up? I don't remember when I stopped eating lunch. And the phone is ringing...tring-tring-tring the mother-in-law. Hmmf... must she call right now? Damn that woman never sleeps on time. “Hi Maa... good to listen to your voice again! Yeah it has been so long...I missed talking to you... how are you? Oh yeah we're fine... sure, will ask him to call... tata!”.

2:00 pm - Open latest episode of "Chhoti Bahu - Sindoor bin Suhagan". Watch part 1, 2. Part 3 missing from youtube. Watch part 4 - okay I know what happened. Don't see anything on bhejafry.net. Ooh new movie on bharatmovies.com – will see later. Hmm... dailymotion.com has the full episode of “Ye Rishta Kya Kehlata hai”. Awesome!


3:00 pm - Hubby called. He will be here in an hour. My cute hubby. Meet other housewives in apartment complex for tea. Ooh yeah that Punjaban calls herself Jasmine now from Jaswinder – the phoneys I tell you. Ooh she can't even say patio any more – it must be pay-sheo! Haan... haan... she got that slur in her accent already. God... why does someone not bring the topic of Mumbai up.... I can tell the scoop about Shweta then! Please please please... oh nice the new girl did! Hmmf... this new girl has no dress sense: still wearing anklets with those jeans. They're cute, though. She called me "Didi"... am I that old?! No, the anklets are gaudy: nowhere cute. Hmm... that Priya is dropping hints about what her hubby did last night. Chhee... let me just talk to this other girl. Ooh is that what I think I heard? That sounds kinky! Never thought Rajesh would do that! Shhhh shhhh... oh I'm sorry what were we saying?


4:00 pm – My sweetheart is here. Ooh those pakoras leftover from lunch! He will have them... made them the first time here myself! “But this isn't the way my mom makes these!” - he said! Damn you... jaao apne mummy ke pass! Slammed door. And now the hubby is outside trying to make me feel better. Hmmf... why did I go for this arranged marriage. There is a secret girlfriend you have in your office don't you? Go to her – she will feed you all the samosas and pakodas.*Insert 30 mins of groveling and compliments from hubby here*. Oh really... you think my hair looks cute today? What else is cute? Aww okay I can go with you to Walmart.


5:00 pm – We picked up a friend of his on our way to Walmart to give him a ride. He's recently got a job and he's single? JACKPOT! So you have a girlfriend in India? Oooh... so, whats her name? Where does she live? What does she do? How long have you known her? Do her parents know? When are you going to tell them? Hubby is trying to make me stop asking these questions. Please please please tell me at least the first letter of her name? Ooh she's in Bangalore? At least tell me the first letter of the name? 'S'.. okay who do I know in Bangalore with 'S'? Ooh and what else? Who proposed first? Damn we're here at Walmart! Very nice to meet you. Please visit us some time – would love it if you come to our place!


6:00 pm - In Walmart. Friend has disappeared. With hubby in curtain aisle. Hubby says blue. I say white. My cute hubby. I say blue. Hubby says white. I say white...


7:00 pm - That blonde guy let me pass... aww I just dig that British accent! Why is this Indian guy being nice to us? Yeah yeah fine nice to meet you. He is pretty intent upon striking up a conversation with the hubby. Is he up to something? Something is wrong. I'm pretty sure he's either Amway or gay or both. Hah... Amway guy! Seriously... get a life!


8:00 pm - Hubby says blue. I say white. Hubby says.. I say blue. Hubby tries to say... I say blue. Hubby... I say blue. My cute hubby... looks tired. Sees reason. Buying blue curtains finally.


9:00 pm - Cooking dinner. Hubby has his laptop open. I take a break and go up to hubby and wrap him from behind around his shoulders. Ooh yeah Rajesh did some pretty awesome things to Priya last night – can't tell the hubby. But just blushing thinking about it – that is so naughty! Hubby has a confused look on his face; although he's trying to prod for information. My cute hubby.


10:00 pm – Hubby praised the food now... heheh... he better. “Did you take a look at the vouchers I sent you for the gym?”. Now what? I'm nagging?! But its for your own good! Okay I will not tell you anything about anything again – do what you want. No no... never listen to me. Do what you want... who am I to say anything? *Insert 30 mins of groveling and cooling off from hubby here*. Hmmf... I know what he wants. Okay okay... so you are going to look at the gym vouchers tomorrow, right?

11:00 pm - Hubby in bed. My cute hubby. Lights out. *Ahem* ...

Say aye

Hi fellas,

  I need an ego boost, seriously. So if you are reading this, please drop a comment. Even if to say "hi" or "never commented - like your blog", etc. Other things like what you like in the posts, what more you wish to see here, and what can be done better around here: please, anything... even if you are one of those hunting for a link back at any cost. Just say "aye".

 Cheer me up, and I promise I have some cool ideas waiting to be converted into posts! :)

Building Rome in half an hour

Well, if you make it an hour, then its not just building Rome. Defending it, destroying it and then having a discussion worth a dozen PhDs and at least three history books about the causes behind the fall of Rome. Yes sir, all three bags full, within the span of an hour or so. Welcome to Age of Empires! :)

You see, there is always a good intention behind a lot of ideas people come up with to help 'education'. Someone had come up with an innovative concept called the Preparatory Leave or PL in engineering colleges, to allow people to 'prepare' well for the exams. Basically, this was a period of about seven to ten days after the classes ended and the exams began. Somehow, this ensured that most people considered attending classes during the rest of the semester futile and the PL was deemed sufficient to cover the entire syllabus. It became a bragging point that you had finished reading through three whole chapters of a book overnight and answered questions from the whole book the next day at your exam.

Of course, more people present in the hostel all day long meant that the general noise levels were higher than normal, to put it mildly. Frequently over the Public Address (PA) system, you would hear "Abbe &*%!^%^%@@@## (collective noun denoting all residents of the hostel) give me my #&@$^&#@!! (umm shall we say, lovely?) electronics book back". This was being shouted by one lost soul who has suddenly remembered that he actually owns the sole copy of most popular book in the hostel. And more study meant more work meant more hungry souls. So the night canteen would open and you could see people loitering around the canteen in pajamas or lungis (depending on what they were doing last before they came there). And then, of course, there was the game called Age of Empires.

After a few days, we discovered that this game, Age of Empires, could suddenly make you get into a room while its the evening, and then when you come out its broad daylight. Not to mention the feeling of guilt attached to it and the sleep that followed. Since there was no cure to the addiction, we decided the best way of using it would be to define a time when we would play. We decided that the best time to start playing would be 3:30 am onwards. (Yes it is a.m. - you read that right). Around 2:45 or 3:00, people would shut their books and start showing up at different places. Strategies would be discussed furiously, alliances formed, army versus navy civilizations chosen. By the time it was 3:25, the whole hostel would be agog with excitement. People who owned computers were suddenly in great demand. Either they would be shoved out of their own rooms, or they would insist that they will also play. And then the games would begin.

Have you ever had a geek at a computer weaving magic with the mouse and keyboard and at least five people cheering him on, shouting instructions, etc? Well, it happened there. It used to be frenzy. Spies would surreptitiously go into other players' rooms and check out their troop positions (on their screen). Or they would go out with little offerings like "if you attack him after 5 minutes, you can take him". And of course there were people like me, who would go and do little things on my own computer to bring the entire network down if my team lost a game. Or if someone wanted to stop their computer from being used, I could go in and change a few things here and that would stop the game from working temporarily. :D Villages plundered, castles burnt down, forests cleared, entire armies sunk in transport ships... ahh the joy. :)