Investments

Those of you who know Rohit, well, good for you. Those of you who don’t, please “go and f#$% a pole” to use his own words. Although why either you or anyone in this world would want to do that to the pole or yourself is beyond my understanding. But then that’s Rohit. However, why this introduction about him? Is this post a testimonial to his wonderful wit, or warmth? Naah! Although he is all this and more. This post is instead about a decision Rohit and I took some months back, and one that we would like to tell the whole world about. So read on, enlightenment (and a ticket to paradise) is just a few sentences away.

After much thought and deliberation, Rohit and I have decided to get ourselves a country. We are not sure what we are going to call it. Any suggestions in terms of names are welcome, of course. But we are not letting everyone we love force entry into this country and claim citizenship. There are going to be rules, and strict ones at that. You will have to either fulfill Rohit’s conditions or mine in order to gain entry. If you are particularly well-behaved, by which we mean that if you happen to fulfill both our conditions, you will be entitled to dual citizenship...that of our country and of anywhere else that you might want to preserve, such as India.

So, Rohit’s rules:
1. You must loudly profess and practice a liking for beer and good music (No Himesh)
2. You must be technologically sound, by that we mean proficiency in Google Talk to start with
3. You must be honest and sincere

My rules:
1. You shall not have any regional, religious or such inane bias
2. You shall dabble in at least something creative be it art, photography, architecture, music, writing. Our fellow blogger friend Amiya is creative when it comes to crossing roads. That counts.
3. You shall not be a boring academic genius. You could have won every significant academic prize in your life, but if we don’t discover a passion for life in you, you’re disqualified.

Common rules:
1. You shall have a sense of humor
2. You must be a raving insomniac (although post America, my insomnia is usually under control. For utterly selfish reasons, I want to thank heavens that Rohit’s isn’t.)
3. You must have caffeine (and not blood) flowing in your body

And what rewards await those that decide to come to us and join our country? Lots of laughter, good food and drink, and unpredictability.

The year 2006 has by far been the most incredibly dramatic year of my life. In so many ways, it has come closest to the kind of time I would ideally design for myself. The decision to come to USA was perfect. At the risk of sounding selfish, this entire exercise showed how much everyone in my life adopted my dream as their own. (Forgive me for being shallow enough to think only about my life here, but there is something about the 31st of December that makes you want to do that, doesn't it?) So thanks to everyone who listened while I ranted or sobbed my heart out, who researched something that I couldn’t find time for, who got me freelance jobs just so I could earn some extra money, who answered every dull and dumb question that I found it in myself to ask, who put in comforting words, encouraging hugs, regular phone calls, and quirky smses. At the same time, there were some letdowns. But today, that’s fine too...it’s after all the eternal battle between having expectations and meeting them. All is good right now, the year is ending on a positive note, and that’s all that matters.

What else did I do this year? I traveled; got some fabulous gifts; discovered a lucky shirt; made new friends; taught history, English and world religions; wrote and rewrote extensively; sampled a humongous variety of food; learnt new crafts like fishing and making coffee using a percolator; had conversations with people from countries as varied as Peru, Japan, Zimbabwe, Thailand, Germany, Mexico, China, Togo, Kenya, St Vincent, Spain, and France; and relearnt my life's priorities.

Before I sign off, let me request you all to read this blog. Do pay attention to the url because that will tell you so much about the writer in question, but most importantly read the post titled Looking Back at 2006. It is the worldview of my fourteen-year-old cousin, Sinjini Sengupta, an incredibly bright, focused, and ambitious kid, and now an avid blogger as well. Do leave your comments there, encouragement does wonders for all of us after all. And I have my sights set on her. I know she is going to make our family proud.

Happy New Year everyone!
May 2007 be absolutely delicious for each one of you!

Snapshots

On popular demand (I have very kind and indulgent friends), I have uploaded some of the photos that tell quite a few of the stories I have wanted to share from America. So a whole set of links have been created on the right sidebar. Please go through them as and when time or inclination permit. And do let me know what you think of my worldview. Not so much in terms of photographic accuracy or brilliance because that is not one of my areas of expertise (I am so much more at home with words than megapixels) but in terms of a definite yet at times ill-defined point of view.

Each album has a short description embedded in it because I didn't want to clutter Kirrin Island with that. I would rather have you talk to me here.

And by the way, has everyone read the last post "Scribbles"? If not, please do so. It's one post, one memory that I am hugely content with.

Scribbles

“You want to take the train? Do you know that only weird people take trains in the US?”
“Are you telling me that you are going to travel a distance of thousands of miles via train! You haven’t done that kind of continuous train traveling even in your own country by your own admission!”
“It’s not even one continuous journey. You will have to embark and disembark at so many places! Really, you’re being crazy.”
“The station from where you will board, Spokane, is disgusting and full of strange people. It is like an epicenter of evil. You have to be very very careful.”
“Why can’t you just fly? It’s easier, faster, hassle free, and safe! Why the train?”
“I think you will be just fine. Just be careful and be on your guard all the time.”
“Don’t leave your luggage lying around in Spokane. There are thugs and drug addicts around.”
“There will be nothing to see. The reason why you are taking the train will be defeated anyway. Just mountains, or vast empty lands. Really, take the plane.”
“It will be so tiring!”
“It will be unclean. Imagine not being able to bathe for three days!”
“You are either very brave or very mad.”
“Take lots of books and music. The boredom alone will kill you.”
“Imagine lugging your baggage around from one station to another, from one train to another.”
“You will break your back.”
“Oh...are you absolutely sure you want to do this?”
“You are from Delhi, a city of 15 million! Of course you will be able to manage this!”
“Your Ma and I have already started worrying.”
“Train food is so bad. At least with plane you know you won’t have to endure it for long.”
“I am an American, and I am thirty years old, and I have lived here in America all my life. I haven’t taken the train even once. You hear me? Not even once. EVERYONE either drives or flies. Please fly, I will worry about you all the time otherwise.”
“Wow! You are a go-er aren’t you?”
“And you intend to do this all by yourself, right?”


Voices. Some incredulous, some fearful, some awed, some worried, and very few enthusiastic. But I did it. I traveled from Moscow, Idaho in the United States to Toronto, Canada using mostly trains, and occasional lifts from friends and strangers alike. A distance of nearly 3000 kms, spread over more than three days, basically 75 hours.

Thus, I have traveled across 12 American states -– Idaho, Washington, Montana, North Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Ohio, Indiana, Pennsylvania, and New York --and 4 time zones. I have had some fabulous conversations: with three year old Zachary who calls trains “chhoo chhoo”; to Gary, a grandfather of three boys and well into his sixties; to Hannah, an American musician who only sings Portuguese and Spanish songs; and also to a professional Santa Claus. I have made new friends, notably with Lon McCloskey, a doctor by profession who keeps visiting India and knows more about rasam, Bangalore, and Vedanta than most Indians. I have been at stations like the mind-boggling one in Chicago that was crammed with people, food stalls, ATMs, and trains of course, to the mind numbingly vacant Cheektowaga in New York state, where I was literally the only passenger. I have seen the mighty Mississippi river, and smaller ones such as the Chicago and Columbia rivers. I have seen the snow clad Rocky Mountains, and Montana’s barren, deserted lands. I have chatted up Washington, the enormously tall, fabulously fit, somewhat oldish, and blessed with a baritone of a voice attendant of Sears Tower, the 110 storey tall building in Chicago, as also the third tallest building in the world. The view from Sears is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you better not have a fear of heights when you reach the observation deck. As the facts go, you can see for 50 miles at least in each direction: roads that look like yellow and red serpents, planes that seem to be continuously taking off and landing and missing each other in mid sky by mere centimeters, skyscrapers that look oh-so-minute from where you are standing, and the feeling of terror when you imagine a moment of free falling from that height. But worth it, worth every darn minute of nervousness and ecstasy.

What else have I done? I have taken a lift from Judy, a schoolteacher mother and Nancy, her daughter who works as a nurse. I have had a map downloaded and explained to me by a woman whose business it is to rent out limousines, and you can see those enormously long and fabulously wealthy and shiny cars from the window of her office. I have played “Hello Kitty” with the world’s prettiest two-year old called Charlotte, and sympathized over mosquito bites with a Ghanaian student. I know that a holidaying/fishing option is cruising down the Mississippi as done often by the amateur ice hockey player that Lon and I had breakfast with one fine morning. I have seen a seventy-year old man trace gentle lines on his wife’s face as she slept on his shoulder, and yearned for that kind of romance. I have discussed the validity of Gandhi with a Vietnam War Veteran. I have nearly hugged the only Sardarji I have seen during the journey, the one with “grossery” stores in three cities—-Lewiston, Clarkston, and Seattle. I have been fed an “India wala omelet” and free drinks by Sharda Mahi, the ex resident of Greater Kailash, New Delhi, and now the owner of Charley’s, a sandwich/burrito place in New York. I have waited for an hour at Niagara Falls, the last station before the Amtrak train crossed US’s border to enter Canada. My hair’s been complimented by Mohammad, the man from Barbados, but who’s been in the US since the last twelve years. I have gotten lost, frequently. And bailed out every time, once even by the cab driver of the Millennium Hotel in Buffalo, NY. I have seen the film version of the Phantom of the Opera with my co-passenger as she played it on her laptop after having finished giving me a live concert using her fabulous vocals and guitar while the night sped past us. And I have eaten some wonderful soup at a restaurant called Pot Belly.

But most importantly, I have seen how America lives, in her small towns, farming communities, villages, and bustling cities. I have seen golf courses, schools, farmhouses, barns, wild horses, grazing cattle, universities, cranberry farms, airports, playgrounds, garage sales, car dump yards, red tractor factories, mansions, coal mines, graveyards, lumber mills, stables, ponds, bridges, apartments, churches, tennis courts, gurudwaras, tiny one-man railway stations, and red brick walled shops. As also lakes, pine forests, valleys, snow covered mountains, frozen rivers, dusty lands, massive empty skies. I have seen cafes, graffiti covered and spray painted walls, and houses with basketball hoops, Christmas decorations, smiling and rotund snowmen, and giant white dogs.

I have lived. Each moment.

Utopia

In my perfect world:
• Clothes would wash and dry themselves
• The rupee would be the most powerful currency
• The University of Idaho would be relocated to somewhere near Delhi
• There would be no snow on the sidewalks
• Delhi roads would be safe for women no matter what time of the day
• There would be no bananas
• Child molesters would get the death penalty
• Chocolates, icecreams, Bloody Mary, rum and coke will be healthy food
• I would have a movie theater sized screen in my house
• My brother and I would always be able to do our Sunday morning ritual
• Orkut would automatically ban people wanting “to do friendship” with me
• Everyone would brush their teeth twice at least
• Mandira Bedi would wear blouses
• Daniel Craig would be my next door neighbor
• Amitabh Bachhan would not have done that role in Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna
• Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna would not have been made
• International phone calls would be cheap
• I would win the Pulitzer, Booker, and the Nobel
• Everyone will be in the same time zone all over the world
• There would be a plum job waiting for me in one of the premier publishing houses in
Delhi the moment I return
• Emran Hashmi would keep his mouth shut
• Tweaking eyebrows would be the most painless act ever
• Bon Jovi’s Its My Life would be the national anthem
• My current favorite tracks – Dor’s Yeh Honsla and Salam E Ishq’s Dil Kya Kare would play themselves again and again
• Ipods would grow on trees
• There would be samosa/kachori/papri chaat/dahi bhalla/jalebi/gajar ka halwa/kulhar
wali chai ki dukan/Murthal’s parathas in accessible corners of all cities of the
world
• I would be able to just close my eyes and do my favorite road trip, from Delhi to
Chandigarh, as often as possible
• People would be imprisoned if they didn’t keep their word
• Traveling across the world would be the easiest thing to plan
• You would get money if found wearing the color red
• The people I love would never misunderstand me
• The people who care about me would put up with my temper all the time
• Fidelity and honesty would be the most aspired and sought after virtues
• I would never have to give up a friend

'Guns and Roses'

I am unsure of how to write this post. This is my third draft in as many as five days. You would think that I am about to reveal the plot of my first book! Sadly, it is nothing that remarkable. It’s not something I am remotely proud of. But dramatic it is. A friend has let me down. I invest a lot in my relationships, whatever be their nature. I am one of those people who need to be convinced a great deal of a person’s worth before I start investing my time, money or energy in them. But once convinced, once you are a friend, I invest my everything. And therefore in my case it is a colossal loss to give up a friend, but one that I am prepared for. Simply because a week of sleepless nights is enough punishment and remorse for a crime I didn’t commit. For a sin about which I was in the dark all along.

This is the story of a man who abhors the idea of being tied down in a committed relationship. He is a no strings-attached man. Fair enough, wouldn’t you say? Yes, absolutely fair as long as he is honest about it. Not just with himself but also with the women in his life.

Yes, because our man here is fond of women...let there be no doubt about that. He is a charmer, he is suave, he is funny, he can talk, he can listen, he can be enormously polished, but it is his remarkable earthiness that captures your heart and mind. And he knows the rule of thumb every man needs to know before he sets his eyes and expectations on a woman...he needs to listen. And that’s what our man is. He is an attentive listener. There! Half the battle already won. And the next half of the battle is also under his control. What does that involve? Taking a genuine interest in the woman’s life and all that she is up to. And our fellow here does that too with perfection. Again, justifiable if there was only one woman at a time. But what if there were actually more? Say about three? Or what about four? Or even more? And all at the same time? Each having been made to believe that “no, we are not in an emotionally committed relationship” but at the same time “we are in a monogamous, single partner equation”. Otherwise why wouldn’t he tell them about the simultaneous existence of the others in his life? Why would he deny even when asked?

Fortunately, the boundaries of his and mine relationship were rather well-etched right from the beginning. And so the heartbreak is not of the same nature as some others that he has caused but I share the same sense of betrayal... as a woman, and as a friend. In fact at some level my loss is greater than some of the others’. He was a close friend, and he let me down. I don’t know whether I even want to confront him simply because, as a woman it is demeaning to be associated with a man like this, against whom the stack of damning evidence is growing sky high every moment. If he continues to remain in my circle, that means I am endorsing him. I am tacitly telling the world that this is my friend. You have my certificate that this is a good man. And that's not possible anymore. He has hurt too many people, some of whom are close friends too, he has been the cause of too many tears. And no man, no matter how dear his friendship might be, can be allowed to treat women, so many of them, like mere playthings. A predator can never be an ally.

I want to tell each of those women that there is a silver lining behind this too. As my biologist roommate has informed me, men who fool around a lot more than they should, that is, they exercise certain muscles a lot more than they ought to, suffer from its dysfunction from the age of thirty-five years itself. So, rejoice ladies! In “our” man’s case, a lifetime of humiliation is less than ten years away.