It's hereditary

It happened for the first time when I was eight.One odd day,I got confused with the way to the playgorund I frequented often and after a lot of rounds with my bi-cycle ,could finally reach the spot but as my luck had it,buddies had gone back home for it had been a couple of hours past the playing time.later,friends laughed at me and I laughed at myself too ,considering it to be a funny accident and I being the source-element.But then at that tender age,i could hardly figure out that it was just a trailer of my hidden trait of mixing up with directions which was soon going to be as popular as any hot guy among a bunch of single girls.Years passed by and I grew more efficient in my trademark skill of confusing with raods. Then bi-cycle got replaced by a sturdy scooty and that meant no more limitations! Freedom knocked at my door but I couldn't welcome it heartily as I could sense the impending crisis shrewedly looming over me.Then what? As expecetd, I was completely exposed.If a friend asked me to pick her up for the morning tutions,I would reach her home for the evening tution.Provided Jamshedpur is a small town with fairly organised routes,I and my scooty somehow managed to deliver the expectations, others had on us.

But perhaps the almighty wished a better funny show for himself and one fine day,I landed onto this huge cosmopolitan fuzzy place.Its been more than four years I am in dubai now but if you ask me the direction to the nearest mall from my house,I would confidently point towards the
opposite direction so you better know which way to go.If I am supposed to take a left at any round-about,I take it after traversing through all the other turns linking that round-about.And dubai haughtily boasts of its huge round-abouts and fly-overs,so you know the quality of plight, I am suffering through!I always wondered why among all, I was the hapless one to be gifted with this odd trait for there wasn't any sane logic for me to believe that I suffered from some memory shortage problem or neither I had earned any reputation of being a dumb person.

Well, god finally decided to let me know the source that passed on this incredible characteristic which now defines me partly. Recently,during a vacational visit to india,I was at my uncle's place.One evening,I and my uncle along with my cousin, went out to get some samosas frm the nearby street -vendor which was just a ten minutes walk from the house.On the way back home,the cousin of mine met a friend of hers and she had to leave us on the mid-way.Then while walking,we reached a junction which led to four roads.And uncle asked me if I remembered the correct road which led to his house to which I smiled shyly and nodded my head to signal him a negative.Then the trouble began,we roamed aimlessly for around twenty minutes more and finally reached the house. After reaching,my aunty quite slyly asked me "so,which new route did your uncle discover today?".Unable to catch her sarcasm ,I reacted quite blankly to which she burst into a cunning laugh and said"my dear,don't you know that your uncle ,who otherwise solves huge physics problems and can easily register complicated formulae,actually suffers from a chronic hereditory defect called "street-phobia" which was very meticulously passed on by your grandfather.And to this my uncle also burst out laughing and very proudly remarked "I wonder who is the next one in our family line to take it from me." I was in a state of extreme shock for a while and then declared "it's already taken so don't worry,our family-heritage is preserved".

Since then,I have been quite chilled out about this defect of mine and have stopped giving angry stares at my friends who occasionally call me out a loser.I ,very calmly reply to them saying"it's hereditary".What worse! I have a car and a job now.O good lord! do shower some sympathy on this poor creation of yours.

Meet the seasonal maniac

Since childhood I have picked up many side-hobbies. And one fact has always been constant till now. Every hobby had its rise and fall as per the wish of the ever swinging mood of the entertainment-loving-cells of my brain. My every pass-time favourite reaches it's period of crescendo in my life which would have me obsessively hooked to it, making me behave like a buffoonish maniac. But the span of these crest and trough filled trend of manias have always been very short because soon I switch to some other element of interest, letting the previous one fall from its cresendo and so it goes on.

It all started with my love for kitchen-sets when I feigned the boss of my imaginary house-hold, cooking pebbles and sand in my mini wok, stirring mud-water in tiny cups and whispering sweet nothings to my doll-kids.Any interference of my mother or anyone would irk me like hell and I threw tantrums all over the house for not letting me play what I called 'kitchen-kitchen'

'Kitchen-kitchen' obsession was soon overtaken by my penchant for sketching and painting. And the penchant again transformed to another staunch obsession.From oil pastels of varying shades to painting brushes of all sizes to fabric colors in tubes and bottles would be strewn all over the floor and I'd lie amongst them, my hands and face patched with assorted colours that could convince any lay man that my parents were blessed with a sensational painter-child.

Then books entered my life and fortunately or unfortunately they are still into my life and my head and my mind and actually everything. But the contents of interest kept varying with my age. First were the fairy-tale stories where every princess had a charming prince to rescue her from her troubles followed by the animated hero,Tin-tin's detective stories where he dauntingly solved all mysteries.Soon, I became an avid reader of Agatha Christies', so much that I used to hide the novels within my course books and read them in order to escape from my parents' glaring stares. Then, as my senses matured, I developed as a reader( I believe). And I got into absorbing the life-altering-philosophies of the so called great philosophers and authors and started spending the whole day, squeezed under my quilt, devouring these books(not literally though) , oblivious of anything and everything going around me.

Even today, if I see a kid dressing her doll and feeding it with imaginary eatables, my childhood love springs out and I happily become a member of some-one else's 'kitchen-kitchen' world.Same holds good with my hobby of sketching. Though the intensity has reduced, but i still manage to portray a scenic beauty,if it appeases my senses, onto my canvas. But my attachment with books seems to grow more and more.Reading something and then contemplating over it brings an unaparallel satisfaction which challenges my perception-skills and broadens my imaginative boundaries.

Unlike my other favourites, my wont for reading refrains from sliding down the crest and it is just scaling up the ladder every day. If an obsession like this can alter one's existence so positively, then I dont mind being addressed as a maniac.

Nostalgia overwhelms

Just one month is left for that much awaited trip to india.Though this time it would be a short one,comprising of only two weeks but it's the same usual 'butterflies in the stomach' type excitement I am going through which occurs before my every visit to India.

This is the time when nostalgia engulfs me completely.The heart pines for those serene streets of Jamshedpur,that vibrant school life,the fun-filled evenings with Rolly( a bosom friend),the summer train journeys to nani ghar and dadi ghar, my scooty rides,the fleeting crushes,aimless strolls in the Bistupur market and so many more things that space would fall short.'why the hell I came here'is the frequently asked question to my conscience whenever i think about those eighteen years spent in india and immediately it bounces back with the reply-'you wouldn't have felt that life's importance otherwise'.

How true!I remember those rainy evenings when maa would cook the mouth-watering pakodas (fritters in hindi) and then shout from the window to summon the neighbourhood aunties for a 'pakoda plus chai' imbued gossipy evening.Here it rains too and maa also never forgets to make her signature pakodas but for reasons unknown, we never get the same taste unlike earlier.Perhaps, the pakoda's taste sprang out from the lively chit-chats of the aunties,the smell of the wet earth from the garden,the pitter-patter sound of the rain drops,the water clogged gallis, none of which are available here.Here aunties are in surplus but not the ones who you find knitting from a big ball of urn or wringing water from a wet cloth in their verandahs or hollering about their mother-in -laws.Send a party invitation via mail or a formal phone call will also suffice and there they would turn up -attired in the latest brands,flaunting the glossiest lipstick and getting down from a mercedes or a limousine. Now, frankly speaking, my mother will prefer to sit alone in the balcony with her cup of tea pondering about her Mrs sharma, Mrs Sinha et al than feeling completely out of place among these stylish peers.

And speaking about those water-clogged gallis, I seriously feel like thanking our municipal department for turning a deaf ear to all our curses and complaints for the immense joy ,I used to feel splashing and jumping in watery roads, is sheer unparallel.Then, there were those mind-boggling street side food-stalls. No Five star or any elite hotel can compete with the golgappas and the bhel puris. Actually, the missing-hygene factor is their trump card. The gushing vehicular smoke combined with the golgappa walla's perspiration becomes the inevitable ingredient for that special tangy taste(did i hear a 'yuck!'?).And here,hygene is the only ingredient stuffed into the pani-puris for chemically treated gloves knead the stuffing mixture instead of the bare palms of the golgappa walla and for five or six bland morsels we end up paying triple the amount.And the ambience we are treated with are - cozy sofas,a soothing music and a pleasant waitress- compared to the loitering stray dogs and cows,the littered trash at some corner and the incessant noise of the passer-bys.

How come i didn't mention about the incredible train journeys during the vacations yet? I must admit that the massive Howrah Railway station, buzzing with non-stop chaos, is an amazing thing. The howling crowd can drive you insane. If u are not an expert in jostling and nudging then be prepared to miss your train.From there we used to board a local train to reach our village and it was mostly over-crowded with villagers and semi-town inhabitants.I and my sister were the spoilt rich kids among them, munching and grabbing on every item the hawkers would lure us with their fascinating selling tactics. Our favourites were the jaggery-infused-nuts(gur-badam) and jhaal-muri(spiced puffed-rice, a speciality of Bengal).

Coming back to my town-Jamshedpur, I am reminded of my scooty rides around the town.An evening scooty ride with Rolly around the outskirts of the city meant exchanging side-long glances with the guys on the bikes passing by.First,I would accelerate a little then he would
speed up.I would try to overtake and he would purposefully slow down.Then some cheesy remarks from the male side would be replied by fluttering of eye-lashes from our side.These encounters always ended with our rides and every evening a new story would evolve.

So,if you are lucky enough to still remain a RI, then instead of asking a NRI about his/her life abroad, do fill his yearning soul with ur desi experiences.And believe me,that person will heartily thank you when back to exile.

It's not just three colours

I was watching this movie 'Gadar' few days back and there was this scene where Sunny Deol flaunts the Indian flag swaying it speedily while walking through a rebellious crowd in pakistan, grappling to seize back his pakistani wife, but not willing to compromise with his identity of being an Indian at any cost.

I tell u, there is something very mysterious about that tricoloured flag. Like any other scene of the movie,I should have absorbed it without being personally perturbed. But something happened, i tell u, seriously something happened after watching that flag being waved among a crowd that denied to respect the values it claimed to carry. It seemed like some strange but a very strong force gushed into my body piercing my conscience. It kept dominating the whole of me thereafter.

I know very well that a national flag inspires patriotism. It inspires the soldier on a battlefield to fight till death, it challenges and dares a player to play for his nation , drives him on the olympic torch flames but how does it inspire an inactive- brained, good for nothing, almost-a-burden -on- the- family, twenty something girl who has always been googling on every single thing including patriotism just to appear intelligent in conversations?


I believe, I am one of that young crowd which delivers speech on corruption , unemployment, national integration and similar issues only on group discussions held by MBA institutions and at job interviews but hardly worries if these issues are seriously nibbling the national economy or whatever into pieces. But again, I am one of that very same young crowd whose heart beats aloud when it sees the Indian flag proudly swaying high up in the air in front of the Indian Embassy in an alien country.

I honestly admit that I dont possess the capability to comprehend this stark irony of detachment and attachment with my national identity but what I could decipher is that a national flag is not just a symbol of a nation's geogriphical and political existence but much more to that. It makes you realise that whether you are a common civilian or a political head of ur nation, when it waves in the free air, your conscience is bound to be morally affected.

Insanity overtakes

I feel like being staunchly honest right now and I have nothing else than my own blog to spew rubbish on. So here it goes,hope u digest the whole.

College is over and I am currently jobless(in the literal sense) and not at all searching for one. According to myself,I have become one lazy,stubborn girl who ,the whole day, absorbs all life-related complicated novels and then delivers senseless philosophies to the hapless members at home who, listen all with utter disdain.I dont have any current plan to look for a job because I am not in a mood to welcome any change in my life presently. I dont mind even if various adjectives have been tagged to my name,few being unemployed, cynical, frustrated, unsocial, grumpy et all. I dont recieve the phone calls even if I am the only one at home while the phone is ringing because i hate faking answers when relatives ask my future plans. Almost all of my friends have decided what to do in their life and are leaving for their respective destinations and I am grappling against the thought of having to stay without them. My sister avoids talking to me much nowadays because i tend to turn violent at her suddenly, without any prior notice , my weapons being cushions, my cell, tv-remote and sometimes my legs.Recently I have started taking fancy of the hindi soaps in which the heroines fall in love with their heroes and among all odds,get married and re-married ,die and get alive and while all the ups and downs of the girl's life,there is a fixed hero who always supports her. And I keep wishing that someday some man jumps out of that tv screen,holds my hand and takes me far away where Ican smile only when I want,where I don't need to explain others about my career-plans,where my friends never leave me away,where no one measures success with money,where no one hurls responsibilities on me,where i dont need to plan my plans.

Well, now the most important and honest fact is that I can afford to carry on my cynical ways partly because I am an indian girl who will not be questioned by the society even if she choses to be jobless for her whole life and partly because of my naive parents who dont mind tolerating my temporary insanity.

The under-rated dilemma

That fat tantalizing mayonize laden burger once again reared its irresistible head to lure my taste buds. As usual,I re-emerged triumphant with a polite refusal and within seconds it disappeared into some lucky mouth.But I wonder what strong force exists that prompts girls like us to abstain from these scumptuous foodies.If you justify with the trait of ascetism then be ready to face a sarcastic grin.If that was the case then we wouldn't have been trying on fagging just for the sake of knowing how it feels and then returning home late night,traffic being the heavy rescuer from parents' wrath. When a twenty something lady says she is on a diet regime, dont fall in the trap of believing it to be a serious concern for a healthy future.Nothing perturbs her more than her female peers' furrowed eye-brows at her slightly potruded tummy.And the another very obvious reason being her continual attempts to be in the popular list among the opposite genders.And why not it be, for scout through your nearest locality and you will find every average man preferring his prospective consort to be in good shape, at the minimum. It doesn't matter even if he himself is a couch potato.The list of factors does not end here for we cannot risk to ignore the incessantly nagging mothers. Though, a mother's lips won't aquaint you with the real reason for her concerns but deep inside, she is quite worried that once her daughter gains some extra pounds, then and there she loses a good match for her. So next time you find an over-weight spinster refusing to some coveted carbonated drink or any junk food, do lend her a sympathetic attitude instead of coaxing her to gobble on it.

Regretting or Reviving?

I suddenly screamed"mum, i want to become like Sulekha when i grow up". Sulekha was the maid of our house.It always fascinated me how adroitly she cleaned the utensils in a jiffy and how she sat cross-legged,in a corner, enjoying over a cup of tea and a slice of bread. I was six then.

Under the diet of a rich and civilized culture, my dream to be like Sulekha soon faded away.Till what my senses can recall, I one day came all delighted from school,explaining my mum how I scored full marks in an essay on"My Aim in life".Some where some one had told me that I possessed an innate quality of arguing logically and had a good prospect of making it to the world of advocates.His sugary words got so perfectly etched in my mind that they fetched me a
lot of marks in my essay.Thereafter,for quite a long time I naively believed that I was destined to be a lawyear,little knowing about the profession.I was ten then.

It goes back to the times when one of my cousins,being the only doctor in the whole family-line,was the hot topic among the relatives.Having already stepped in the teen age, my mind had started to develop a certain propensity for luxurious necessities and the greed for popularity.It did not take long and I became an aspiring doctor,so much that my kitchen sets got replaced by doctor-sets.Once again,I remained oblivious of what I really wanted or was capable of doing.Fortunately,I soon flunked in my biology exam,which woke me up from my shallow slumber leading me to abandon the idea of becoming a doctor.

Then came the season of being aim-less.Nothing could appeal me for long and I eventually surrendered myself to the mundane routines. I was among the many adolescents who memorised their history lessons daily,practiced algebras till perfection,recited sanskrit shlokas in one breadth,by-hearted the capitals of all the countries and adeptly balanced any chemical equation.It was during this mechanical phase of my life that I began taking an avid interest in penning my thoughts down.I was beginning to realise that perhaps writing was that undeciphered desire which had kept my soul yearning.Perhaps, I could observe the varied nuances of the society and put them in black and white.Perhaps,I could find beauty within every irony, my ears heard.

But as my fate had it,before I could confidently proclaim that writing was my calling,circumstances again drifted me away.I found myself straitjacketed within a pool of brains which were viewing the world through technical eyes and somehow got dragged in,clogging my artistic veins. Since then,it has been a journey amidst the world of technology,provoking me to scale higher and higher in exchange of the promising white collar jobs and a quick life of financial independence.
But, still wondering if ever I can unclogg my deep-buried desire but the mind also fears the dreaded circumstance which can sweep away anything that confronts it's way.It can anytime hypnotise you by luring your gullible senses and by the time you realise,you would have been already devoured by it's enormous appetite.