Five Things I love about Finland...

Is a quiz on Facebook. Rather than clicking on images and posting it to my profile, I thought it would be better to write them down.

How do I love Finland? Let me count the ways... ( up to five .)

#5. Public transport. This is one of the most amazing public transport networks that I have ever seen. ( Amsterdam, London and Copenhagen also have very impressive transportation networks.) The buses, trams and trains are on time to a fault. And they are plenty, at least in Helsinki.

#4. Nature. I love the way Finns take care of nature. I love the micro gardens which peep over the balconies of apartments. I love the fact that they do not dump ice into the sea, but have separate areas for doing that.

#3. Work-life balance. I love it that my managers - past & present - trust me enough for me to work from wherever I want to. I love it that they take delight in the fact that I have a life outside of work. I love it that my colleagues - past and present - are well rounded people, people one can look up to and learn from.

#2. Friends. I love it that I have made new friends here. I love it that any given day, they reach out to me in real life or via interwebs. I love it that I have met kind, generous and smart human beings who dance to their own rythms and are cool in their own ways.

#1. Freedom. I love it that I can walk alone in the middle of the night and live alone in by myself in an apartment. I love it that I can go and buy alcohol on my own. I love it that I can go to a club and dance the night away, and the fact that men take a No as a No.


I think I found my summer love and he is called Helsinki.

Alone, but not lonely

I am on a trip to Copenhagen tomorrow, all alone.

My first trip alone was in 2007. I had never traveled to reach a destination where I knew nobody. However, When I was to come to Helsinki for a year ( yeah, right.) I wanted to see as much of Europe as possible. But I was not sure if I would find others whose schedules would match up with me.

Hence, listening to my dormant engineering brain, I did a trial run in Goa. The first three days, I switched off my phone, played PC games on my laptop - finished 1 - read - finished two books - ate when I wanted and slept - in my room. Living my life without the demands of anything or anyone; going where I want and eating what I wanted made me a fan of traveling alone.

My last travel also was by myself. Granted, I did meet up with friends, but I decided on my schedule and what I wanted to see - or not to see. I could sit in a part and read Dorothy L Sayers because it was laid out like an English garden and I was not making anybody late. I went to watch movies alone and became one, even though for a short while, with the people in those theaters.

My first travel in June is with a friend. I am sure that the complete serendipity of traveling alone will not be there - it would be more structured to suit both of us. But I am looking forward to that one too, as traveling with friends help me rediscover them all over again and realize, with a relief, that they have not changed all that much.

But I am looking forward to traveling tomorrow too, as it will help me rediscover the person I love and value the most in the world : me.

And I am really excited to meet her.

Spring

Spring is here.

I saw my first spring flower, a tiny dot of bright yellow, on my way back from work last week. I have been able to stay up late and wake up early, all without an alarm clock. I can smell the new buds in the air. Looking closer, the buds are deep red like new born babies, waiting for the perfect cue to surprise us. Bulbs have started sprouting out, and some have even stated budding. Birds keep singing, never mind that is is still around zero degrees here.

Spring is here. The the students of Helsinki have suddenly transformed the city into a more colorful place, wandering around in groups, decked up as peacocks in all their university finery. The deep thunder like rumbling of motor bikes fill the city, and bikers zoom past as small slices of speed and adventure. Cyclists chime their bells, and scurry from one corner of the city to another like impatient grasshoppers.

Spring is here. There are more movies in the theater. There are more couple outside, each pair into their own worlds. Suddenly there are more avenues to explore in the city. The balloon sellers and the clowns can be found wherever the families are.

Spring is here. My apartment is listening to more songs. The orchid is budding, the color of the flowers yet unknown. I switched from boots to shoes. My spring cleaning is still going on.

Spring, is here, like a coy young bride too shy to lift her veil off her face.

Last fight

The morning was like any other monsoon day with the rain waking you up. The roads outside are all flooded, water flowing down in torrents, thanks to drains overgrown with weeds and stuffed with semi dead plants that the houses throw out.

I try walking on the tiny, makeshift brick pathway, with is just about elevated from the flowing water. I have to reach work. I have to log in into my laptop, I have to listen to people tell me about how bad things are, and then talk to their manager who will insist that things are always fine. The flooded roads make taxis and other modes of transportation impossible, so I walk in the rain, balancing an umbrella and a laptop bag for 45 minutes so that I can get to the main road, which hopefully will not be flooded.

I see the queue first. It is pretty much straight, and has at least hundred people in it. Taxis and autorickshaws come to the start of the queue, and people get in. The rain is on a break now, for a few hours before it will start again.

I have been standing in the queue for almost two hours now. Next is my turn. There are three girls standing a bit to the side of me. They have been there for ten minutes or so.

And the taxi come, and as I am about to get inside...

One of the girls give me a shove, and gets inside.

Big mistake. I am rage. I am at my tipping point. I throw my bag into the seat next to the driver and try getting in. I am pushed again, what can I do, a mere mite of a girl against three women, all bigger than me?

I am not sure what entirely happened next, three minute tops, and I am inside the car, alone. I remember asking them to step out as I have to get it, I remember them telling me to go fuck off.

Next thing I know, they are outside and screaming, and I am inside and have little bits of skin under my nails. I am pretty sure I kicked someone in their stomach. My ribs hurt. The girls scream at me like banshees. I ignore them and ask the driver to go forward.

At work, one of my friends come over and said that she had seen me fighting, when she was being dropped. 'Remember me to never mess with you again.' She says, half playfully.

I tell myself to never get that violent again, to keep that in check. I have been doing it so far, but I do know it is in there, somewhere.

New resolutions for spring

So looking back at my To Do lists for the year, here are the status updates. The first one is a list from last year, for this one, and the second one was done sometime in early January this year and scribbled out on a piece of paper.

1.I want to run - started off well, but being sick put frequent dampeners on it. Planning to resume from when the temperature hits 10 degrees or when I work out of office.

2. I want to give away stuff - Success, it has become more of a habit now.

3. I want to jive - doing that, loving that. Dancing makes me drink less as I get my high just from music and hydration from tap water.

4. I will invite more friends home - success, I was requested for invites and requests were made of specific foods. Having one this Sunday, may have another this Saturday.

The paper list:

5. Climb the Parliament steps : did that in the middle of the night and during day time. Night view was much better.

6.Go to a rock festival : Got the tickets, it is in June

7.Go to Greece/Tuscany/Paris/Venice : Not yet. Still searching Expedia for good deals.

8. Write regularly: It has been happening. Averaging about 150 words a day without writers block. Mixing up old stories and making up new ones rather nicely.

9. Give everything to a friendship or relationship without any expectations and see what happens: It was an interesting experience. Got a lot of material for #4.

10. Go on a trip alone: It is something of an annual ritual for me. Not sure where to go this time.

11. Go to a bar alone: I am grateful that I have been unable to do this so far ( big thanks to all those lovely people who have been giving me company). Guess I will cross the road and go to the neighborhood bar one of these days. Or may be to the jazz bar.

12. Make Sushi: Will do, as soon as my Indian meal experiments will end. And planning to experiment on the Indians this time :)


Which brings me to the new list. Assigning one event for a month, including April, I should have a total of nine things in my to start list. And here they are:

1. Run at least 3 hours a week.
2. Go to Greece/Tuscany/Paris/Venice
3. Go on a trip alone
4. Go to a bar alone
5. Make Sushi
6. Play more board games
7. Take up a new hobby which will exercise my body
   
8. Go to Srilanka/Nepal/HongKong
9. Go trekking/hiking

PS: And I already have two more added to my paper list. Lets check back in three months as to what all have been done.

Seventeen

On a dance floor in Helsinki. Sometime before midnight. Sometime this year.

Ha. ok. So the good looking cutie wants to dance with me? Who am I to deny? Especially when looking like something the cat dragged in ( note to self : always dress up for the possibility to party when you get out ) your ego gets a kick when some young guy wants to dance with you. But once HR then always HR, and my instincts told me that there is something wrong, somewhere.

So somewhere in between getting high on music and taking hydration breaks, I ask him:

How old are you?

I am 21.

How old do you think I am?

My age?

I am tempted to lie. But no. I am pretty much sure that he is not speaking the truth either.

A bit older.

Twenty two?

I do not reply and get back to the dance floor, the music is glorious, the music is beckoning, and it is a crime not to dance a homage to it; a young Nordic God notwithstanding. Towards the end, decide to take my water break on one of the sofas. My friends have already left. I am on an all time high without even a shot of vodka. This has been a good weekend.

And somehow unsurprisingly, I have got company.

And I resume my third degree questioning.

How old are you again?

Dont you believe me?

No, not really. I dont say this, but just shrug my shoulders.

I am seventeen. Are you twenty two?

I have heard people talk about hitting on sixteen or seventeen year olds and having random sex with them. But those were (a) guys, (b) they were actually twenty two (c) and looking for random sex.

All of the above does not apply to me. And I work in HR. I take a deep breath.

I am twenty seven.

I dont really care.

The reply, which came fast, was not really surprising. He had, even at that young age, the easy assurance of those who always got what they wanted.

How did you get in then?

I am more curious to know the know how of subverting the age limit.

I am shown an ID card. I am told that it is a fake one, and that is how he got in. I am asked if I need any drinks. I decline. I am happy with my water. He insists, and I ask for a coke.

We sit down, and we talk about books and music. He dissects music with casual assurance, and talks about books passionately. He even like F1. He talks of technology, the telecom industry and about world politics. He gets my Cartman quotes and Family Guy references. I do not get it when he goes on about video games. And every woman that walks past us glance at him. And he has eyes and ears only for me.

And he is only seventeen.

We go back, and dance some more to the music. The night is finally over and those of us left walk out of the door.

He wants to know if I would be interested in watching Opera later in the week, as he has already got tickets. And may be we can go to Carelia later for dinner, if I do not have other plans.

Give me your name and mobile number.

He thrusts his iPhone at me.

No.

He is seventeen.

Not even your name?

No.

Dont you want to know mine?

I smile, reach up and tussle his hair. He is smart enough to know that I do not want to meet him again. His knows he is being rejected, but is still unfailingly chivalrous.

I can drop you home, my car will be here soon to pick me and my friends up.

No. I am calling the taxi now.

And I leave the most perfect person I have ever met in Finland, with a hug and a parting wave.

Because he was only seventeen.

Firing 101 : Aka why HR mad skills are important in your life too

The first thing that many non HR people ask when you tell them that you are working in Human Resources is:

" Can you get me a job in your company? Hahahahaaa! Just joking! But seriously... can you?"

"You work for Human Resources?" *deep silence wondering what the hell the HR person is doing at a barcamp/ devcamp / tweetup /geek meeting /IEEE meeting*

"So can you get me a job?"

But what many people do not realize that the other side of hiring is firing. You need to know how to lead up to a humane firing - there are no good means of firing someone. No one is going to look back and say that it is the best firing they ever had.

And what has that got to do with life actually?


Lets talk about relationships. And breaking up. ( Yeah, 10 points to the discerning ones who figured out that all is not well. Nothing to see here, move on!)

Breaking up with someone is quite similar to firing someone. And as the dumper and dumpee, you can always take a page from the HR.

Aaand.. here goes:


#1. Feedback, feedback, feedback.

This is one of the most overlooked, yet important aspects of breakup you can learn from good HR practices. As a good Manager will give an employee regular, straight forward feedback on how things are going, it makes sense to talk to your girl friend or boy friend about where you want things to be and what your expectations from them are. And men, going silent when the women talk about things do not work. Ladies, changing the subject is not the same as actually talking about it. And once in the process of dumping, can the feedback unless the other party asks for it and dont have any potential weaponry on their immediate vicinity.


#2. Don't do it in public.

As a good manager would never fire an employee in public, you should never dump someone in public expect when the said party is in an orgy of which you are not a part of.Ideally, this should happen in the dumpee's home and face to face, and you get extra points for thoughtfulness if you already bring everything they left at your place and hand it over to them. If it consists of kitchen knives, hockey sticks etc. then its better to send them via post - men, they might look tiny and fragile, but in these situations, you never know how they are going to react. If you are in a long distance relationship, a phone call initiated by the dumper should suffice.


#3. Deliver the message quickly.

A good manager will tell the employee the bad news within 20 seconds of them being in the room. Do not start the breakup out with a list of the stellar qualities of the dumpee. That would only make the other person wonder what if you have bipolar disease. Keep your tone neutral. Do not talk about getting back together after a break unless you really mean it. Women, this is how most stalking start. You are NOT being nice when you say, may be we can meet up later. No, no, no. Let them go. Ambivalence is for wimps and wimpettes.


#4. Don't give them the promotion, the cool assignment, the public awards.

Unless it is a layoff, a good Manager will not - and his HR manager will not allow him to do that anyway - do any of the three. Similarly, if you are planning to dump a person soon, never stay over or allow the person to stay over or allow them to leave their stuff around at your place, dont do favors for them, and do not meet their friends or introduce them to yours. Men, all of these are considered by women as signs that things are going good, you might just want to chat to her friends about getting a job. Women, just beacause a guy does all this does not mean that he is totally committed to you, it might just mean that he likes your friends and is a slob to leave stuff around.

#5.Respect the history

The way a good - okay, great - manager will fire an employee who has been with the company for many years is very different from the way she would do it with someone who has been with them for a few months. Respect the commitment made over time, respect the emotional investment.



#5. Don't cry. Don't beg. Don't blame. Don't look back.

This one is for the dumpee. One of the most unprofessional that you can do when you are fired is to breakdown in front of the person who is firing you. Use the rest rooms or the smoking balconies for that, in the company of your work friends. Dumpees, don't cry. Respect! Don't even think about begging to give it another chance. Don't start blaming just now. Take your time, reflect, and check out the new opportunity that you always wanted to try out. Life is too much full of awesomeness to brood over what is lost.

#6. Don't burn the bridges.

Good managers and smart employees never burn the professional bridges. I am not saying that exes must hang out - it depends on what both parties are comfortable with - but you never know - your ex might know some awesome people whom you haven't met yet. And I am not even talking about the midnight fringe benefits.


So.. what do you think? HR is pretty useful, eh? Would love to hear comments on this :)

open secret letter

There is music in the room. is a laptop where I can type, and there is food and wine in the next room.

And I want to blog now. It is geeky, and easy enough to type these things out than say them to the face of people you care about. So here goes. If you are reading these and feel like one or more of them applies to you, it probably does.

I want you to know that I am happy, and I want you to be happy too. I am sorry that my happiness does not include you in the core, but as a friend you will be there in the vicinity. I hope you find your someone special.

I want you, you, you and you to know that I take your advice to heart. That you are right and that is why, I will always listen to you guys n gals, even if you do always tell me what I need to hear.

I want you to know that I like how things are going, and yes, going with the flow and enjoying the moments is a great idea.

I want you to know I heard what happened to you and know that you don't want to talk about it. But in the middle of a drunken night, if you want to talk, you can always wake me up despite the time difference. We are friends, and relationships are not going to change that.

I want you to know - meh, I really don't care if you know or not.

I want you to know that I hate what you have become when I last met you, I wish you would live up to your dreams and not disappoint yourself.

Can we talk?

I read a lot. Online, off line.

When I used to read books, it was a two way conversation. The authors talked to me, and we were in no hurry.

Now, I read online mostly, and it is a shout out rather than a conversation.

If offline media was intimate conversations over a bottle of red wine when the light is slowly fading, online media is more like speed dating.

What are you saying?

Can I link/retweet/add to FF?

Nice meeting you - lets keep in touch via RSS.

This is the most laid back place I have ever lived. This place offers me refuge from the everyday annoyances which ate up my time in other places.

Why then, am I having the least number of conversations in this city?

By conversation, I do not mean talking and listening. I do that - I love to talk and to listen - and have been lucky enough to meet many people who indulge in that whim of mine.

By conversation, I want us to explore, in the span of few minutes or few hours, about things we have never thought of, experiences we never had, worlds which we never knew existed. I want us to debate and ask questions, to each other and to ourselves. Not all questions need to be answered though, nor we need to design a question for every answer.

I was us, not to care about the food and the drink, not get distracted by the music or the pretty sights around us. Or rather, I want us to get distracted, but only to the extent that it would lead to more conversation.

Now, the nature of such conversations have shifted. It depends on twitter's word count, and on whether you can access Jaiku. The silences which add texture to the conversations have all but disappeared.

And that is why, whenever people produce an invite for casual meetings, I always take it up even if it means having to stress out a bit with the logistics of juggling different conversations. That is exactly why, I get into CIA interrogation mode with many people. I am curious. I want to know. Tell me more.

And that is the reason for me going mute and getting lost inside my head in mid conversation. I am savoring the conversation we had, feeling it, understanding it.

So I thank you; those of you out there, who were kind enough to sit down with me and across me and have a conversation. I thank those of you who blog and are kind enough to share your blogs and thoughts with me about your country and culture. Thank you, to those who disregard the 140 character limit of Twitter and make me feel as if we are sipping hot beverages on a cool spring evening. Thank you to those who tell me their stories, opening my eyes to perspectives and thoughts I never realized existed.

I live in hope, of more interesting conversations to happen.

Wimpette speakth: Erm, about you calling him ugly? Ah. about that...

One of the reasons why I blog so intermittently is because I do not like picking on what others have done or said, and even if I want to, 'Shut the fuck up, you dumbass!' isn't much of a blog post, anyway. And frankly, I am a little (as in short) wimpette, so I use my blog for passive aggressive rants which I'm sure the other person wont read, anyway.

I am a very visual person. It is funny given that I am technically blind without my glasses - may be it is the blindness which had made me appreciate beauty in all its majesty and forms.

Speaking of beauty, how can I not speak of humans? Coming to Helsinki has exposed me to a whole new side of human beauty. The men and women I meet here - from babies to the old, they have broadened my definition regarding beauty. On the roads, I stare at people, at moments of great intensity when a particular tilt or curve of mouth would have made a great picture, told an amazing story, but then was lost. ( Some people I know called it eye raping. I disagree. Its appreciation.)

What is beauty anyway? It is perfect symmetry? If so, then we humans are doomed, as not one of us is born symmetrical. And then again, what is the uniqueness in a perfectly proportioned face? For me, it is just boring.

And that is why, I hate it when people call others ugly. Excuse me? If you are talking about beauty, you have to take in all the details. Instead of telling that her eyes have crows feet around them, look into them and see how they sparkle when she smiles. Instead of telling that he is short, focus please, on that killer smile. Instead of calling another one overly made up, look at her face and see how transparent it is when it comes to her emotions.

Human bodies can be very imperfect. I confess that I like the lean n mean torso on men myself. But human faces, I love them, all of them but with various levels of fascination, each uniquely interesting to me, each a reflection of the life that is being lived - you can call a face cunning, angry, evil, boring, wicked, charming, elegant, piquant, sad, happy, crazy, tired, frightened, brave, phony, disgusting - but ugly?

Never.

At least, please do not use that word again. It shows a deep lack of imagination on your part. So, either use the right words to tell me exactly what you feel about a person's face, or Shut the fuck up, you dumbass!

Sigh. I said it, didn't I?

I just blogged, to say, I miss you...

I miss my friends.

Let me put it in context.

I had a great evening, and I miss my friends.

Of course, I have been meeting new people and making some friends here in Finland. Some nice ones. Some great ones even.

But man, I still miss my friends.

I miss my speed crazy companions who think nothing of going at 120Kmph in peak traffic in Blore. I miss my bike crazy friend who took me to watch the planes land from the highway, and then took me to one of the best bars in Delhi.

I miss my friend who always picked fights with me, matching me insult for insult, scream for scream. We are better friends now that we both passed out of that petri dish called MBA school.

I miss the idiots who would oversleep and forget to pick me up from the railway station. I miss the ones who cancel the predetermined meeting, and then pout when my plans do not turn around theirs. I miss my hug buddies. I miss the cribbers with their deep sighs and ' we are all going to die in the end anyway' attitude. I miss the friends who can and will polish off my food whatever much is left ( sometimes even before I am done). I miss my friends with whom I would get into impromptu wrestling matches.

I miss my friends who can match me drink for drink and take care of me once I am so drunk that I start seeing double. I miss the smokes. I miss the randy jokes that I crack with my friends. I miss being called out on my emotions by people who do not mince words. I miss being able to gossip over food and drink and then go and dance the night away like a gang of dervishes.

I miss going to movies and crying, laughing, heckling and sleeping through them with my friends. I miss going on trips with them, my head out of the car window . I miss reading Mills and Boons aloud in a group and dissolving into peals of laughter and adding exaggerated sounds effects to accompany the text.

I miss my friends who tell me to just have fun and embrace my inner Samantha. I miss my friends who can read my every emotion and casually talk me out of my moodiness. I miss my friends who give me drunk calls in the middle of the night so than we can talk about everything and nothing and whom I drunk dial back. I miss my friends who get scandalized of the things I do, but still, love me with their whole heart. I miss cribbing about Mallu culture and getting knowing, sympathetic nods from friends who have been through similar experiences. I miss going out with my friends, making up plans on the fly, never knowing where and how things are going to end.

Girls and boys, loves of my life, this one is for you.

Did I tell you how much I miss you?

25 things about me 'meme'

When Jina had her list up, I had an inkling that my name would be there. Now, 25 things about me which people have not known is difficult. I usually talk a lot, and in that process, share a bit too much about my life too. Anyways, let me try now...

25. I don't know how to flirt. If a guy is flirting with me, I can not make that out either.
24. I love cooking. But I prefer innovating in the kitchen than trying the traditional/same old stuff
23. I have extreme anger. But I always keep it under check.
22. Often when people are mean/bitchy to me, I do not react as the first things that come to my mind are very much unprintable.
21. I had my first soft toy when I was 22. And my first story book when i was 3.
20. I love Kerala but I dont miss the people there.
19. I get high on the feeling of freedom.
18. I have bathophobia - and no silly, its not the fear of taking baths!
17. I miss the monsoon the most.
16. When I was a child, I was possessive of the sun as I thought it was named after me ( yeah, I am very humble.)
15. I love comics.
14. I get hyper afraid when I watch horror movies.
13. I am a creative liar. I once made a roommate belive that I was a mallu princess adopted by Christians. Making her realize the truth was more difficult.
12. I am very cynical of Disney cartoons. I blame it on an overdose of Terry Pratchett.
11. I have a pretty good memory about things that people tell me.
10. I dont like being cold at all.
09. I have a huuuge crush on Edward Norton.
08. I love playing mind games.
07. I go awww... more often when I see dogs than when I see kids. Them I see as little individuals.
06. My first pet was a cat her name was Pussy after the cat in the nursery song about Pussy cat going to London to meet the Queen. I was one then.
05. I learnt to read at three. I used to read the children's books at that age.
04. My favorite drinks in the world are neembu paani, morum vellam and tequila shots.
03. I only get drunk with people whom I am comfortable with.
02. Growing up, I was a communist/socialist. Now I am a hardcore individualist.
01. I open up about many things in my life so that I can turn your attention away from what I want to to hide from you. Till now, the success rate has been 100%.

And I tag...

Nikhil
GG
Saji
DD

I will tell you one, and you tell me another...

Many of my friends do not read fiction. They are exclusively non-fiction readers, who read to know, to think and to understand. They take a look at my book collection and change the subject. Archie comics are not great conversation starters except with 20 something females.


But they love to hear stories. Whenever I bond with my friends, it is over a story. It could be from their lives, from mine, or the stories from the life of a friend of a friend or a story that they have seen or heard, in turn.

Meeting with old friends always turn into story telling sessions. We ask about the major characters, do not forget the minor ones and listen to the introduction of newer characters. Some stories are left unfinished - or rather, they find their endings in limbo. And together we weave our stories of what was, what is and what will be.These are relationships that keep us strong, these are the stories that make us who we are. Sometimes we walk away from those stories, disowning the other characters, but we do remember the stories, and use them for our own How-To, and more often How-Not-To maps.

Meeting new friends is different, very much so. Each story that they do tell is like a tiny step that a very vary and very injured bunny take towards you. You never know how to react, you curb the instinct to reach out and touch it,as you will scare it away. You want to help, you want to be there, but trust has to be earned, stories have to be told, and all the time you have to keep in mind that the bunny may eventually go back into the wild. And you share your stories too, wondering if there is a common thread, and then realizing that a common thread, while bonding the stories together, is not necessary in itself. Transient relationships have a peculiar beauty of their own, something that you can never find in the comforting blanket of enduring friendships.And you will never know; until many months and many years have passed as to which of the new ones will metamorph into a beautiful butterfly and fly away, and which of them will be the bold squirrels who stick around and follow when you walk through the park.

And that brings us into unfinished stories. Some relationships are left halfway through. You never know why that friend never called again or why the other one wanted to end it all. You can never understand why this one changed so completely and why another one did not.Often, the unfinished stories are the ones you think of in completely random moments in your life, and slowly give up trying to figure out. You stop wondering if they were butterflies whom you thought were squirrels or squirrels who eventually moved away because you did not extend a hand.

So friends of old and new, friends to be and former friends; let us sit down once in a while, and just tell stories for a few laughs, shocks and tears.

It will be fun, I promise.

I have been...

Making good progress on my new year resolutions.

Watching some good movies.

Making some new friends, and rediscovered old ones.

Falling in love with snow. The bright white, the light flecks, the taste of winter on your tongue and tickling on your feet.

Snow also brings with itself slippery slopes which make you fall in the most undignified way possible. Snow wets your feet when it is even half degree above zero. Snow looks dirty and ugly when it is swept to the sidewalk and when peed on by dogs and drunk people. It sticks to your shoes and creeps inside the apartment, bringing dirt and grime with it.

It kills any green shoots that try to brave it. It works with viruses to confine me inside my apartment.

But when you wake up one morning and find snow falling quietly, covering everything under a cosy white blanket, you fall in love with snow all over again.

Being practical v/s. Being environmentally minded.

When people talk about recycling and using less resources...

I think back about my childhood.

Where we diverted the water from the bathroom and the wash basins to the garden.

Where clothes were handed around the extended family.

Were books were - story books, text books - handed across families and friendships.

Where old magazines, old milk covers and newspapers were regularly brought by the 'akrikkadakkaran' ( meaning junk buyer in English)

Where pickle and jam jars were used to store spices, where extra jars were given away to neighbors in need.

Were most of the cooking was done on stoves using paper and deadwood as fuel. Where the dried coconut rinds were used to heat water, cook rice and make curry. The ash was used to wash utensils and shine brass and as a fertilizer.

Were plates were either made of clay or steel. Broken clay-pot pieces were used as boundary for the garden, dented steel utensils were exchanged with the shopkeeper when we brought new ones.

Where plastic covers were reused.

Where jute thread used to tie the grocery wrappings were reused.

Where when traveling, a plantain leaf was cut, lightly boiled over a fire and used as a taste retaining food wrap which can be thrown away anywhere.

Were cats would eat the leftover pieces of fish and meat.

Where the kitchen waste went to the compost heap.

Where my dogs provided the nitrogen and ammonia elements needed for the garden - we never used any chemicals in the kitchen garden.

Where broken pieces of glass were collected and used by people as wall decoration.

And broken bangles and random beads were used for craft sessions.

Yes, my parents generation did recycle and were environmentally minded.

But they called it being economical and practical.

May be, just may be, in the so called third world countries instead of starlets urging people to go green and high priced organic produce on the stores,

Someone ought to go to the people and teach them how to be practical.

Just a thought.

Movies.. movies...in this year...

First, I wanted to make a list of movies which I liked. But then, life is defined by moments of love and hate and 'what the heck were they thinking?. So, here are my movie moments from 2008:

The movie which redeemed my faith in Superhero genre after the traumatic experience of watching Spiderman cry:



The movie the then came along and kicked the ass of the above movie so much that I did not miss the show even after falling from an escalator ( its very very difficult to walk up an escalator going down). And it was my second viewing.



The movie which betrayed me:



Edward Norton, I love you. But I did not go to this movie to watch you play a brilliant scientist with a sad, sad story left to tell. I went to watch HULK smash things and people, not to see you play the tortured soul. For that, I would have watched Pride and Glory or Painted Veil. Stick to indie movies, please. And next time, please do some comedy - you are only going to be 40 man, its not the end of your life!

The song which can put me in a peppy mood even on a rainy and cold day:



The song which goes best with red wine:



The movie which I can watch again and again :



Movies yet to watch:

Aamir
A Wednesday
Cadillac Records
Doubt
Frost/Nixon
Gran Torino
Marley & Me
Milk
Mumbai Meri Jaan
Slumdog Millionaire
The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
The Wrestler
Transporter Three
Yes Man

But the one movie which I really, really want to watch, is this :



:-)

And finally, the movie which made me re-like Brad Pitt & George Clooney:

The allure of Brad Pitt was somewhat lessened after me became Ms. Joilie's wife. Ooops, sorry, my bad, partner. Clooney was fast becoming a male Paris Hilton - always being photographed, being with different and younger women who look like clones of each other. However, this one movie made me remember that those two men are pretty good actors.



That's about today. Do sugggest any good movies that I might have missed. And oh, not considering the OST of Slumdog here because man, its a class apart.

For the next year....

Its that time of the year when people start making lists. Christmas lists, New year resolutions... the like. Being a Hindu means I never celebrated the gift giving tradition in Christmas. I of course will be giving some of my friends some gifts when I visit them, but that would have happened even in the middle of the perfectly ordinary day. Like the Mad Hatter, I believe in celebrating Not a Birth Days.

So, for the next year...

1. I want to run - more often, for more time. But it is January, in Finland. However, we have an office gym open 7 days a week and I have friends who frequent the same regularly. So I will be there come next year, to do some Indian bonding and to run a bit.

2. I want to give away stuff - more regularly, more methodically. I do have more clothes and accessories than I need, and I end up wearing the same stuff most of the times. I had already given away around five bags full of clothes, but I want to take a look at other things too, that may find better homes with someone else.

3. I want to jive - by myself or with friends, to head thumping music. I have friends who love rock to jazz to even heavy metal. And I must go for concerts with them, and when they are busy, I should go alone.

4. I want to travel - there are friends across Europe, who would be happy to have me visit them for a few days. There are places, about which I have only read about but always wanted to go. And there are places where I want to go again; to experience what I missed last time, and to relive amazing experiences. With others, alone - it does not matter.

5. I will invite more friends home - and will have pizza parties to traditional Indian meals. I love cooking for others, but my home always seems to be a mess. I just need to clean up the place first. But the first invites go out in January.

And when I get used to this five, I will replace them with more activities.

Rules of Engagement

What do you do when you are just up after a 30 hr blitzkrieg of fever, feeling like you feel after 7 shots of tequila but without the happy buzz and fatigue?

Why, you try to read your feeds, email and tweets. And then looking at the pileup which kind of resemble Mumbai peak hour traffic jams, realize that it’s time for a bit of cleaning up. I have a job and interests outside the internet, so...

So, let me present to you my rules for the social networking sites that I frequent:

Facebook/Friendfeed/Orkut:
#1. I don’t know you, I don’t add you. Doesn’t knowing you mean I don’t know your real name, what you do for a living, whether you are likely to have any criminal charges against you.
#2. I have heard of you, but if your name does not invoke a friendly feeling in me, I don’t add you.
#3. Only exception to above rule is if we have been class mates or if you have been my direct senior / junior in the various educational institutions that I spent time in.

Google Reader:
#1. I follow the website if it makes me laugh or provide info that I find interesting. Personal relationships don’t matter - sorry!

LinkedIn:
#1. I add you if we belong/ed to the same organization / educational institution / LinkedIn group / if I will/have something professional to offer you or vice versa.

Dopplr:
#1. I add you if we are colleagues / friends.

Twitter:
#1. You are my friend / colleague and I find you fascinating enough to stalk you 24x7. (Let’s face it people, Twitter is a sanitized stalking medium for people who want to stalk and people who like the attention. Just a little bit. Without the scary parts.)
#2. I can't understand what you are posting - be it links, be it @ messages to others. And if you keep on @ messaging others, 5/10 wrt your latest posts and I will be walking away
#3. I don’t know your a/s/l, but love your tweets and the tinyurls that you provide.
#4. You tweet as any of my fav fictional characters.
#5. You are a celebrity who actually tweets by yourself. WTG, Shaq!
#6. You are a tweet feed for a political leader / office, of a country which I find interesting.
#7. You update at least once a week. Unless your FQ (fascination quotient - what were you thinking?) is high in my book, I will remove your feed. Sorry about being so uppity about having a clean twitter feed. Im into minimizing stuff in my life these days.

And I follow these rules too.

Yes, I know this comes across as /add your fav adjective for me now here / as hell, but hey, it’s my life, and how I spend it is my prerogative.

Let me get back to my blankets and giant teddy bear now. Being sick sucks.

Stupid Cupid? Well, not really.

Staying at your parents home and working from there have distinct advantages.

You get home food.

Due to the time difference, you can wake up late and stay up late, which I love to do.

Its on the tropics - hello, sunshine and warm weather, as opposed to grey skies and chilly winds in sub polar regions.

You get to play fairy godmother.

Cousins have this habit of sneakly growing up all too quickly when you are not looking. Such is the case with one of mine. Lets call him Matt.

Matt came home one day, and to be frank, I did not recognize him for a full five minutes. This is the same cousin who has mercilessly beaten me up and was beaten up by me - with some additional kicks and scratches included - in turn. So naturally, we were pretty close as kids, in the convoluted way only kids could be.

Of course, now being six years elder and grown up means he treats me with respect. Which is all for good, as Matt has grown up to resemble a baby elephant. Hefty, that boy is.

On my last visit home, I have realized that Matt had a girl friend. Of course I was happy, of course I promised not to tell my parents or his - love affairs while studying is not something our parents look kindly upon.

So this time, Matt's lady love wanted to see him. All of 20 years of age and broken as students are, Matt weaseled out some money from his mom saying that he needs to buy new clothes. Of course, it was spent to travel to meet Nannie and spend some quality time with her. He had made some similar trips in the past, where my dumbass cousin tried to make out with his girlfriend behind a police station ( dont ask me what prompted him ) and the police almost arrested them for public obsenity ( no clothes were off, and this is not a Talibanic regimn, but Mallus think that kids are born when two people hold hands and prefer to keep thinking that way).

And now I get a call from Matt, on my mom's cell. He mom wants to see the shirts that he has bought with the money. The money which he spent to go and visit Nannie. So, after a quick discussion where I felt like a criminal mastermind - Tell your mom that you left the shirts with your friends. They will give it to you later here from the railway station. No no.... they dont have time to come to your home... and get two of your friends to backup the story - I agree to buy him the shirts.

Matt's father called him and treatened him that he will track his son down by asking the phone company to provide his roaming location. Fyi, Matt was supposed to be on a place about 250Km and six hours by road south from where he now actually is. The Luddites that he and Nannie are, they got spooked and call me. The gist of the call went somewhat like this:

Matt: Sis, dad will surely catch me.

Me: What? Coz of WHAT??? And you both believed that???? HAHAHAHAHAA!!!

Matt will be spending the early morning hours of 3am in the railway station, surrounded by mosquitos. He will then come to my home, and we will go and get the shirts which are to be presented to his mom.


Do I think that Matt and Nannie are made for each other? Hell, I have no idea. Do I think they should get married at the end of their bachelor degrees? Honestly, I don't care. I would rather they go their separate ways if they feel that they have changed than them try sticking together just for old times sake.

So why do I support them?

Because I always wanted a big sibling to confide to. To talk about frist loves and first heart aches. To talk of first sips of sprits and lost friendships. To have someone tell me that the elders in my family are a bit looney and that they dont know everything. To have someone from the family to eoncourage me to make my own choices, mistakes even, and learn from them. But I had to do with myself.

Because they need to make their own life decisions. They need to learn to be adults. I had a chance to stay away from home and learn my lessons, and I would not want my dumbass kid brother to miss the school of life. And what better lesson do we learn there than that which is taught by Cupid? If it works out, great for him. If not, I will always be there for him ( and for her too), his big sister.


Note: My blog readers, especially the non Indian ones, might wonder as to why two 20 year olds are afraid of seeing each other. Its because of financial dependency. All said and done, a lot of 16-24 year olds who study do not pay for it - their parents do. Add to this kids who stay with their parents till they are married or even after that, and a society which mostly condones love only on the big screen, not to mention the highly volatile sentiments related to cast, religion, ethnicity and social status.... its not an easy life for love stories to end in happily ever after.

How Barack Obama got his 'Yes we Can!' slogan

Picture this. A dad who loves his daughters. One is now 7, and the other is 11.

And imagine, that the girls love Bob the Builder. Their smart mom wanted to make sure that their daughters do not get gender stereotyped, and make sure they watch Bob and Wendy and their motley crew.

Of course, dad and his little girls spend a lot of time watching them. The four year difference between the daughters suggest that the dad must have watched the series with his girls for at least five years by now?

And as anyone who still baby sit a kid knows, bonding with kids means singing songs together. Also, most of the kiddie songs have an annoying tendency to stick in your head.

Is it then too much to think that Obama got his 'Yes We Can!!! from here?



If you are still not convinced, here are the original lyrics to the song:

aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
(Take your places)
aaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Can we fix it?
Yes we can!

(chorus)
Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Scoop, Muck and Dizzy
and Roley too.
Lofty and Wendy
join the crew.
Bob and the gang
have so much fun.
Working together,
they get the job done!

(chorus)
Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Time to get busy.
Such a lot to do!
Building and fixing
'til it's good as new.
Bob and the gang
make a really good sound.
Working all day
till the sun goes down.

(chorus)
Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Can you fix it?
Right.
Left a bit.
Right a little.
Ok, straight down.

We can tackle any situation
Look out, here we come

Can we dig it? Yes!!!!!!
Can we build it? Yes!!!!!!!
Can we fix it? Yes!!!!!!

(chorus)
Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

Digging and mixing
Having so much fun
Working together
They get the job done

Can we dig it? Yes
Can we build it? Yes
Can we fix it? Yes

Bob the builder! Hey!!!
Bob the builder! Altogether now

Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes, yes we can!

Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
oooooooh!!

(chorus)
Bob the builder
Can we fix it?
Bob the builder
Yes we can!

We'd better get some work done!

And here is the modified version:

aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
aaaaaaaaaaaaah!
(Take your places)
aaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Can we fix it?
Yes we can!

(chorus)
Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Joe, Dave and Penny
and Axel too.
Robby and Timmy
join the crew.
'Bama and the gang
have so much fun.
Working together,
they get the job done!

(chorus)
Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Time to get busy.
Such a lot to do!
Building and fixing
'til it's good as new.
'Bama and the gang
make a really good sound.
Working all day
till the sun goes down.

(chorus)
Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Can you fix it?
Right.
Left a bit.
Right a little.
Ok, straight down.

We can tackle any situation
Look out, here we come

Can we dig it? Yes!!!!!!
Can we build it? Yes!!!!!!!
Can we fix it? Yes!!!!!!

(chorus)
Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

Digging and mixing
Having so much fun
Working together
They get the job done

Can we dig it? Yes
Can we build it? Yes
Can we fix it? Yes

Bar-aack O- bama! Hey!!!
Bar-aack O- bama! Altogether now

Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes, yes we can!

Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
oooooooh!!

(chorus)
Bar-aack O- bama
Can we fix it?
Bar-aack O- bama
Yes we can!

We'd better get some work done!

Funny though, as how the slight changes in name fits the Obama campaign's stated sentiments so perfectly....

Any thoughts?

Cheat Sheet

I wrote a blog post... and suddenly, it appeared here!!!

Many of you may not know this side of me... but enjoy :))

Sorry is a difficult word to spell

I apologize a lot.

Actually, I find it easier to apologize than most people. I also tend to own up when I am wrong, and have no problems in admitting the other person was right.

Most of the times, anyway.

It is comparatively easy in work place. The right and logical thing to do is clear and visible. However when it comes to the hours when Outlook is shut down, things are not always that clear cut.

So, after a quarter year or so, I sent out a long pending apology letter. It was not very long, I cant say that it was very well written. The egoist that I am, I tucked the apology away after a PS and between too many smileys.

But also tucked in between the lines were wishes for that persons happiness, and fond rememberance of the friendship we had. ( Im a biiig sucker for good friends). I hope that we resume our friendship, but do not see that happening from the other end.

But still, I said sorry, and I meant it. And I am happy that I did the right thing, eventhough it was not that easy. ( I have a biiiiig ego too).

Marriage woes

"I don't want to get married!"

There is resolve in the voice, and petulance too. There is frustration, which emanates from the fact that brother can remain unmarried and there is not even a discussion about it, but they want to get the younger one up and out of the family home. Understandably, the injustice of it all brings hot tears to her eyes.

"Alrighty.. not for the next twenty years." The mother is playing a dangerous game, and she smiles at me to denote that she knows it. I watch it fascinated, wondering how this is going to work out.

"No!!!! Not even after that!" She is very very specific about it, and being old enough to understand that twenty years is not forever, cuts the suggestion down.

We let her simmer in her indignation. Her mom turns to me.

"On the other day, we told her that she can find a nice boy from around here. But no, she wanted to marry someone from our community, and expected her dad to find her one." There is a hint of laughter in her voice. A Christian who has been happily married to a Hindu, she can understand the irony of those earnest but naive declarations much better than I do.

"Waaaa!!!! No!!!!!!" Oops. We had forgotten the fact that the little one can hear, and has a regrettably good command of English.

Waterworks start. She is in agony, you can see that from the scrunched up face and the deep, deep sobs.

"Alright honey.... don't get married... don't get out of home... stay with me and cook and clean for me..." says the mother. May be its me, but then again, there is a slight hint of regret and sarcasm in her voice. Regret that her daughter wont always be this innocent, this huggable ; sarcasm that is waiting for the future when she will be saying " but you never let me go anywhere!"

Did I say that I love them both, the spunky mom and her adorable daughter?

Excuses Galore

The past few days, Ive been visiting Murphy on and off.

First my laptop crashed. Then my personal laptop got such a viral attack that it was virtually sneezing and leaving goo all over my home. Then my colleagues laptop, which he kindly loaned to me, crashed. I guess I turned to Magneto for a day...

Upside: 1.5 days of unintended holiday.

Downside: Work being piled up. I hate not ticking off things on my TO-DO list, and the thought of all the work not done kind of took the sheen away from the dont do anything and stay home period.

Been to Rome. Been to rock climbing and I love the feeling of falling. The feeling of my limbs aching over the next two days, not so much. But still, will, go again.

May travel again next week, related to work. So it remains to be seen how much of blogging will be done. However my passport is with the US Embassy - I finally got the visa! - so need to pick it up for the travel. No biggie.

Ive not told you about the Manticore and his girlfriend, have I? Seems like her best friend is finally ready to tell us about them. This looks promising.

A boring story

When she was a baby, they told her about love.When she was a child, she knew all about it.

At eleven, she gave up waiting for a prince to come on a white horse.

At fifteen, for the first time a boy’s eyes met hers in love. She was in love for three weeks. Then he changed his hairstyle.


At twenty, she gave up on the bended knee. She was in love with a man who read Ayn Rand and was destined for great things.

At twenty two, her true love denounced world peace and decided that the greatest thing in the world was a US green card.She denounced him and world peace.

At twenty four, she forgot Valentine’s Day. She was studying for her exams and had a perfect score. She also had a perfect boyfriend, who actually read enough of and about Ayn Rand to realize that she was not perfect. One year later they broke up, as the intellectually mature man in her life could not accept that fact that she landed a better job than him.

At twenty six, she had a good job and a better affair with one of the senior partners of her firm. He bought her flowers, he bought her chocolates. And when one day he buried his head in her hair and asked her if she would like to be his wife, she coolly said no. She did not like to be cheated, and knew enough of people to try and change them.Shortly afterwards, she swore off roses and chocolates too.

At twenty nine, she seduced the nineteen year old son of the partner. It was fun the first few times, but the boy wanted her ‘to be mine, all mine.’ It got trite after a while. She gave up on the semantics of ownership.


At thirty three, she went out for a beer with a friend of hers in a London Public house. They have been vaguely friends and good acquaintances for a long time, and given that they worked in related fields, they kept running into each other. They had swapped stories of sexual conquests and sexual frustrations over the years, and in the pub over some English ale, they were talking about life.

‘Lets make babies.’ She told him.

‘Lets get married.’ He told her.

‘But not now. Lets wait for a few more years.’

‘Yes – in may be five years? ‘

'May be.'

They agreed, and smiled at each other in embarrassment. Further discussions could not be carried forth as a pub fight had broken out and they were more keen to see it then to talk about their wedding.

That night, when walking back to his home discussing the finer points of the English Pub Brawl, she felt oddly thankful, and rested; with the satisfaction she had only experienced with a good score in an exam or a project well completed.

This is a bit boring.

We know.

So why did You chose to tell this?

Because this is one of the few moments in the game where We both were there, and in perfect harmony.

But it is boring!

Well, she liked Us.

So did he.

.....................................................

It is still boring…

You have become impatient. You spend too much time with them, carrying them around in Your stupid box.

Yes, and you take them away in the middle of the game! Not fair!

I have the Karma to look at, you know – cant let them have too much wear and tear…

Whatever. Lets go back to our game.

They rose as One, and went back to the game, leaving Carer alone. He sat staring after them, and then picked up his box and went after them.

Stories: Preface

First there was Love and first there was Freedom.

They came into being, chanced upon each Other, and decided to be together. Love knew that he will be complete and powerful with Freedom, and Freedom knew that Love would provide her with the intensity to be free. So, like most relationships, Theirs too was one of convenience. And like in most relationships, They got bored after spending sometime with each Other. Love failed to recognize that Freedom wants to be free, and Freedom failed to recognize that being with Love means not soaring away, but falling in.

They did not bicker or give each Other the silent treatment. Instead, They went and asked the Maker to help them out. For Love without Freedom is crippled, and Freedom without Love is never satisfied and they were enough to realize that.

The Maker had just made a game, and he gave it to Love & Freedom.

'Go and play.' he said to Them. ' Through this game try to understand each other and yourself. Be the driving forces behind the game, try to shape it and mold it.'

'What are the rules?' They asked, for They knew that the Maker loved to define complicated rules.

'For this one, there is none.' He replied, running his hands over the small round game platform. ' It and the players are pretty resiliant.' He gave it to Them, and it hovered exactly between Them. 'Go on; test it, play it beyond its limits.' Not waiting for Their gratitude, he walked away to his next creation.

It did not matter to Love and Freedom that the players appeared to have a life of all their own. The Beings who rule Gods do not care for such smaller details.

And They have been playing ever since. Sometimes Love wins, sometimes Freedom. But as time went on, they realized that the pieces of them game were also playing the game, mostly with each other. Once in a while a piece would come along and try to bring Love and Freedom together, or do something so illogical that They learnt about each Other and Themselves. They recorded some of the instances away. There are hundreds of them, and the stories which are coming forth are a very very tiny selection from them.

Oh, and the game? The Maker had called it Life.

1001 stories - the first 10 is here.

If life was a little more colorful and a little less sane, I would have become a wandering story teller.

It is the perfect job for me. I listen and observe, and then ask the important question of 'what if?'. And I am adept in disguising the protagonists or making them a concoction of the many whom I have known. I would wander from small bar to small bar, regaling people with stories from far and wide, and then listening to them. Payment in bartenders indigenous mixes, food and hospitality along with money; for when given freely, even the best things are not valued or worse, remembered.

However, as I work in HR, the most I can do now is to blog now, and occasionally tell stories to friends whom I talk to. Most of the times, laziness stops the stories being posted to the blog. However, I have quite a few to tell, and they have been asking to be let out.

So here's the deal. I will post some words i happened to hear, each from real life, that had stuck with me in the past few weeks. You tell me about which ones you want to know more. And I will write a story on demand, inspired from the life behind those words.

'You dont answer a question, you provide a message.'

'That's so easy, so Im choosing the difficult option.'

'Why does there have to be something involved?'

'We change. But its upto us on how we change.'

'Boredom leads to suboptimal choices.'

'You did not know I was unhappy?'

'Life teaches in its own way.'

'This is not nice to me.'

'There is no pressure.'

'Let's make babies'


So tell me, which of these do you want to feel more about?

Travels around the reality

I have been reading Terry Prachett's books on Discworld.

It has been some kind of an addiction.

Mr. Prachett was introduced to my by his writing partner Mr. Gaiman, whom I met accidentally in one of the public libraries in Finland where I was looking for Bruce or Clark to hang out with. He took me - actually, gave me a visa and a set of unimited open tickets - to Discworld.

And I have been dropping in, ever since. They are all flawed in one way or other, they behave uncannily like some people I know or some people I could become, and they are all fighters in their own way. They do not wimper ( may be except for Angua ) when they are down and out, they fight, and if all hope is lost, they go out in style ( Unity). They understand that doing the right thing does not necessarily mean doing the nice thing.

I had a short stop at Chicago, to meet Vilma and Roxie. After the musical, I have resolved to earn up and spend money on such experiences more. Them too, fighters. May be not as moral as Captain Carrot, but valiant fighters. I like them too.

Like Mr. Vims and the Black Ribboners, I too am taking it one day at a time, one step at a time. And I plan to channel my inner Esme, especially when it comes to matters of ridicule.

Ours is not to reason why....

... but we can always wonder why.....

People always assume that anyone not following their life choices are making a mistake ( or at least missing out on what life has to offer).

So many otherwise impeccably dressed men here think having their hair styled like the rest of the guys in a birds nest style make them stand out.

Petite girls mostly have Labradors, German Shepherd's and Huskies, while men who make the Rock look like a wimp have pocket dogs in pink collars.

We are not willing to give what we would like to receive.

We lie when their lies fall apart around us so easily.

We insist on absolutes when we live in a relative world.

- On that note, goodnight folks!

Walk in the night

I am a huge fan of walks in the night.

The roads glow orange. The streets are silent. The pathways show insomniac bunnies hopping away. There are not too many bugs to crowd around your head. The ducks and migratory water birds all sleep, their head tucked in between their wings and floating gently like diyas with the fire put out.

In a night walk, you can share the silence or reject a conversation. Words and feelings flow more freely, may be a bit more than what you would have been comfortable in the day light. Life is more clear, decisions come to you fare more easily, when you sit upon a cliff and look up at the stars.

Every step you take is an adventure. There are no lights, only shadows, and you feel your way around than seeing it. The wind is chillier and more sneaky, finding its ways to be closer to your body despite being fully covered.

The city lights reflect on the low clouds. One the walk back home, you have a little more time to think about the strangers who speed away on their vehicles, think about their stories.

And old songs come back to you, which you sing enthusiastically off key, comfortable with yourself and with the sweet mite of a girl who is a new friend.