Summer Bummer!

Right! So what have I been up to this summer, not much really.  Yes, there was this short and sweet trip to Las Vegas with my girls from undergrad (and a husband for some reason) … Vegas is vain, and no matter how hard I try and accept the vanity of ‘Vegas Baby’, really it’s crap . The sites were boring, the hotel architecture tacky, interiors even worse, the city lights at best mediocre, and the promise of ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’ sadly pathetic, because if getting mindlessly drunk ought to be a big secret, then woohoo… you have a story to tell.  Went for a male strip show , which did take my breathe away, I pride myself in thinking I don’t fall for the obviously good looking ones in life without good reason (Matt Damon’s a Harvard dropout alright!)  , especially the kinds who drop their pants for a living, but sigh, ten minutes in and I was swooning to the bulging glistening muscles ,the cart wheels and pelvic thrusts. For those two hours I truly believed that the 12 hunky Australians on stage were the only decent beings on this planet worth splurging on. Then there were martinis on high heels, short dresses way up my knees, and googly eyes with boys in the club, my friend and I soon realized we weren't really enjoying ourselves, somehow attention from horny drunk men  and spring break undergrad boys isn't fun anymore, if ever it was. And I did make some money on the gambling floor; the rush of winning was pretty cool, and then I lost some, and a dealer yelled at me, that wasn't very cool. 

To save our trip from utter disappointment, my friend and I decided to go see the Grand Canyon on our last day in Vegas.  Both of us had packed extra pairs of pumps with our luggage but no sneakers, so we bought warm socks and trudged along the rim of the grand valley in awe and flip flops.  It was gorgeous, the day was clear, the temperature a crisp 65F, and the drive engaging. Our guide was a delightful Chilean, Angelo, who wouldn’t shut up and shared wonderful stories about the Mafia time that was, the Hoover Dam and the charming little town of Seligman, which inspired the movie Cars’ backdrop.  The view from atop the Canyon is truly mesmerizing, it tingles your senses, as our guide droned on about the age of the rocks, the geological transformations et all, I went into a reverie, I felt accomplished looking at the view, of finally being there, as if that had been the aim all along, The Canyon inspires that, so I’m glad we made the trip.  Oh yes, there was this sweet extremely pseudo French bistro Mon Ami Gabi, right opposite the Bellagio, we had a lovely meal there, with the fountain rising and singing at twilight , there was no heist to cheer to, but sitting there with my best friend felt sufficiently awesome, the bread was good.

I finished my year of corporate residency at the company I was working at, they offered me a full time position, I felt they courted me well, and now I await my paperwork to come through. I ended my residency on a high note of appreciation from all, especially from my manager, he has become a mentor of sorts, I find myself constantly seeking his guidance, approval and recognition, he definitely inspires loyalty in me.   And then there were classes, homework, midterms and finals... I trudged along, completing things that need to be completed, attending to stuff that needed attention, shopping online during my minutes of respite, in a way I’m glad there weren’t too many of that.  But then I have spent a lot of time stressing that summer is wooshing by, and not letting me ride a bike, row a boat, climb a mountain and wander on lost trails and truly experience the wonders of New England. I really need that driving license I have been a complete bum about it.

Then there was a Miami- Keywest holiday this past weekend with my oldest friend, his wife and friends of his … at best it was a lot of fun, but more so awkward, as I honestly found myself bored to death, no fault of my traveling companions, they are lovely people. Lucky for me, Keywest is beautiful, and our hotel room even more so. I do hope to go back soon, maybe a bit more alone seeking solitude, ride the bicycle around town for a longer period of time, and eat way more fish than I did. The highlight of my trip was my visit to the Hemingway house in Keywest.  A lovely colonial two storied mansion style house, lot of space within the house for sea breeze to dance around.  The bathrooms especially are tastefully done, each bathtub overlooking the grounds, I can only imagine Ernest soaking in and just staring out. The lush grounds around the house reminded me of my garden in Kalina, where I’d love to get lost, walk around and muse with Elsa by my side. Six to seven tabby cats live on the property now, fat lazy things, they look so secure and at home, it was fun watching them. I remembered that one quote from his books : ' Never go on trips with anyone you do not love' and figured why Vegas wasn't so bad after all. 
My terrible tan is a big damper, though wouldn't trade it for the long hours bumming on the beach and in water, snorkeling, jet skying and splashing around. 

I'm glad for the break though, managed to read and re read quite a few books. 

So summer rolls by…yawn!!!

Boston Musing (3)

One would think that moving to a whole new country, settling down in a beautiful city,  doing an MBA  and the likes of it all would have me raving and blubbering all over this lovely rant space of mine. I will be honest -- I want to, I really want to. But I find it hard to condense to text five insane months of overwhelming changes, experiences, and all the binge eating and drinking that usually followed (follows) such events.

It hasn’t been a smooth ride.  From the first day I landed here till now, every aspect of my personality, my perspective and even my likes and dislikes have been challenged. It was disconcerting at first; I landed here with a butt load of confidence, and then felt slightly shattered. I was shaken and stirred, often left panting, but I trudged along, found some wonderful friends to help me along the way and some cynical acquaintances that kept the boat rocking. The Fall semester whooshed by, and I sit here, wiser, a new year in a beautiful city and some lovely people in my life. I am smiling, it wasn’t so bad, I made it … I am doing quite OK. Boston is awesome.

Business school has some important lessons to teach. For starters no matter how much experience, intellect and hard work you bring to the program, it will still overwhelm you. You will be sleep deprived, overworked, stressed and homework ridden.  Often I found myself paying so much attention to each moment (for time and work do become synonymous here) that I felt that I was missing out on the ‘big picture’.  I had no time and energy left to ponder on the larger context; I was so busy just ‘doing’. It worried me a lot, and gave meat to a lot of whining sessions, which surprisingly we (my classmates and I) made time for.  The pace of the program is incredible. But last week, my second week of winter break, I went through all my class assignments, my case memos and marketing plans, as I read through my work and my notes, I feel reassured. I was glad to realize that everything I did was in fact elements of the big picture. All the late nights, long hours in the library and the taxing learning team meetings make sense to me now.  The best part is, I heard myself saying out loud while reading few of my papers, ‘oh! I can see why I got an A on this one’.  Serendipitous self-ratification is indeed lovely.  

All the subjects -- Marketing, Accounting, MIS, HRM and even Econ blended effectively and seamlessly to assure not only an incredible business perspective on things, but a personal development that will take me far in my personal and professional life. However there is much to learn and struggle through, time management is still tricky and I hope to fair better going ahead. I kept my plate quite full, became the president of the Finance club, participated in an MIT case competition and also worked as a research assistant for the international business strategy group…actually let me rephrase -- my cup overflowed.

My class is an interesting bunch, a heady mix of international and domestic students. The cultural mix in itself opened doors of understanding and awareness of self and world I was never acquainted with.  For someone as me, who has never been out of the country till five months ago, it has been quite a rollercoaster ride. Culturally, there have been few shocks but what I find most amusing is the range of stereotypes and clichés of different cultures that both international and domestic students deal with.  It is a huge learning experience, I for one find myself shedding few misplaced perceptions and I hope some of my classmates do too.

 In a way the likeness between USA and India is so stark, the cultural diversity is mind boggling, it always amazed me in India, even though I lived there all my life; it amazes me even more so here, for it is more global, more international and as a foreigner here, the learning is richer.

But one thing really bugs me, when people ask me whether ‘Englische’ is my first or second language… grrrr…

MBA students love to drink and get silly… it’s true. The program gets really hectic, and by the end of every week most of us head to a bar to let off some steam and cool off. I observed that the international students especially let go a bit more than most, I am not stereotyping here, but I can see why... As an international student, I am not only here for the MBA program, but also for an experience of a life time, which I guess makes me overtly exuberant, enthusiastic and high spirited, and I am not alone feeling that. We love to celebrate, it’s been a blast. Study hard and party harder is truly the mantra that keeps most of us going.

And Boston is lovely; I walk a million miles here, and find myself rejoicing. But it gets lonely too sometimes, never been so far away from home and the little luxuries that I had taken for granted back in my country. I miss my family and my crazy bunch of friends.  My only friends in this city are some of my classmates, they are wonderful and I am thankful.

Exactly a year ago, I was waiting for my b-school results, I had no idea what the future held for me, it was disconcerting and trying. I have come a long way since then... And 2012 seems even more exciting – There’s a trip to South America, a corporate residency and so much of Boston and beyond I am yet to explore.

Dybbydyy dib dib doo... !!! 

Boston Musings

(Hopefully it is a start of a series...) 


"You know," said Arthur, "it's at times like this, when I'm trapped in a Vogon airlock with a man from Betelgeuse, and about to die of asphyxiation in deep space that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young."
"Why, what did she tell you?"
"I don't know, I didn't listen." -- Hitchhikers guide to Galaxy... 

So only few days remain, then I fly… and I am feeling funny, really funny.

 I am hounded by questions from family, friends and foes… The most annoying being – So all set to go? No I haven’t set anything; I have just packed my bags, that doesn’t really set anything, does it? Then of course there is advice and point of views gushing from all corners, drowning me in exasperation --   ‘Do not limit yourself to just Indians, you’re going to a new country, explore’ , ‘Make sure you make few good Indian friends, coz they are the ones who will always come through for you’ , ‘You are toh half American anyways (just because I love sitcoms and Italian food)’,  ‘ Eat up, you’ll miss Indian food’ , ‘ Carry a Saree and few kurtis’ ,’Carry spices , don’t carry spices, carry this, that , and what not ’ , ‘Learn to make dal sabji will you and don’t drink too much’, the last one is of course my mother’s pearls of wisdom.    And so it goes, some ridiculous, some funny, some downright silly and yet I find myself pondering over all of them, very seriously.

Suddenly the word ‘Indian’ has a whole new perspective. It is but natural; when you’re leaving your country, one has to deal with the issue of nationality, and especially if it is something that one has taken for granted all her life. It is slightly disconcerting, when simplest things make you question and worry about your way of life that has been. Makes me wonder whether being an Indian is a measurable quantity.

It has to be said though I am going to miss my parlour waali and I am excited about all the hummus I can easily buy from stores there.

The packing part has been trying. In all these years I have never touched a jar of pickle, and now I sit contemplating whether I should carry a couple. I have never cooked Dal in my life, I can barely distinguish between spices and here I am toying with the idea of carrying some. I don’t know what it is, is it the want of sticking to being an Indian cliché or simply that I am feeling nostalgic. The fact that I am wondering whether certain things which I barely use here will be available there is getting me all hassled.

It is amazing how you learn certain interesting things about self when you sit packing for another country.

What will I miss most, what I cannot do with? What do I take?  Is it really required? These questions haunt my being day in and day out and I am truly perturbed. I never knew I was so attached to my hair oils.

I am as excited as nervous, I go to a country I am so familiar with and have absolutely no idea what is in store for me. A mixed bag of emotions, reservations, expectations and dreams.

I know it will all sort itself, and these are just pre leaving jitters. The nostalgia has already taken over, I smile to self, there are going to be some major changes. The best I can do is ‘just be’ and let the tide wash over… 

And now I wait....

Right now I am going through a phase in my life, where waiting forms a part of my daily routine. Waiting has invariably become the highlight of my hours and most days in general. I say most days for some days I do manage to keep the panda in the room gagged and caged and carry on with life,work , interspersed with some conversation and some jokes . But then, these are trying times, for the act of waiting holds more meaning than most things I should do. The results, the decision, what I wait for will determine the next few years of my life and that makes everything oh so inconsequentially relative, the present per se.

And of course while I do waste few hours of the day in wondering and waiting, my mind tends to ruminate a bit more than usual. Nostalgia is beginning to brew, for I hope to leave soon.

Change is always so dreaded, yet hoped for and oft welcomed. It keeps the reel moving and its anticipation can sometimes make the present so still, almost worthless.  


The above is my take and then I remembered this wonderful piece  …

This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the wayside where the shadow chases light and the rain comes in the wake of the summer.

Messengers with tidings from unknown skies, greet me and speed along the road. My heart is glad within and the breadth of the passing breeze so sweet.

From dawn till dusk I sit here before my door and I know the happy moment will arrive of a sudden when I will surely see.

In the meanwhile I smile and I sing all alone.

In the meanwhile the air all around is filling up with the perfume of promise.

Rabindranath Tagore, Gitanjali. 

Goa Travelogues : Soliloquy

More on Goa : click here 

As the last day drew to an end, I marveled at myself, I never talk to people so easily, never smile so often while walking the roads. My body feels great. I walk beaches and streets in a bikini top and shorts. I find me shedding so many of my inhibitions and even more misconstrued perceptions. I feel evolved. I have never been out of my country and yet the past few days make me feel I have travelled scores. It has made me re think my life, my goals, of what is important, rather what should be. That things can be so simple is actually possible. Past few years I have hemmed and hawed about my life and my ambitions. The rat race has made me so frustrated, so wanting, I am forever struggling. Maybe I am meant to do something else maybe that is why I am struggling so much more than usual. Should I just stop? There is so much effort, but hardly any heart in the effort I realize. My ‘Why god Why? ‘Question feels less overwhelming. The soft sand under my feet feels like a reassuring pat on the back. The sea breeze an embrace. I cannot help but be poetic and quixotic. I can see the beach shack tingling in evening lights.

The worries still linger. As the sun sets on my last day, a deep melancholy sets in. If things work out, I might not be back for a while, and if they don’t … I slightly shudder. I need more sunny days on the beach to be a complete convert. Complete evolution of disenchantment might take more than mere 6 days.

Past year hasn’t been very straightforward with me. Most people I know actually all, have embarked on some path — be it right or wrong. But I see them flying at least, which will take them somewhere, anywhere. I am at the edge, flustered to take a leap, for no direction seems welcoming. Hence heart lacks in the effort I have put in, n I find myself letting go of chances and of opportunities. Not knowing one’s heart is always unpleasant.

At present my problems back in Bombay (my life that is) remains just the same, I sigh as I see my problems peeping from a distance, far beyond the horizon. They seem so out of context here. In a day, I will be on the other side of the rising sun. But now I am happy to know I have a place to escape to. Happy to be introduced to a ‘Me’ I wasn’t well acquainted with.

This has been a holiday I have read about, seen on TV, fantasized about, so serendipitous and gay and so close to home. Maybe my state of mind and state of being set me on this path of self discovery, and I realize it is a long quest. My need to be alone and disconnected triggered a dormant personality I wasn’t aware of. The people I met… Andrea, Diana, Brad, Liz, Niels , Sally , Petra ,Romeo, Pramod and myself . I want to travel more and write about it. For in writing the experience lingers longer, perspective resurges’ in a different light, feels more romantic, more meaningful and extended. I find myself dreaming Spain, Finland and New Zealand, but the fantasies feel more grounded, not an illusion anymore. The task feels more sincere than most things I do.

Calvin MeQuirks

So what have I gone and done now??

Let’s just say, I finally decided to let go of my inhibitions and confusions, and do something about my misery.

I went ahead and did it. And I am still trying to understand the consequences of my actions. I cannot help but mournfully whine about the fact that there was no drum roll, no red carpets, no ‘gosh love you’, no ‘this is where I belong ‘ moment.

Instead for the first time in well quite a few years I feel an odd sense of unbelongingness towards my own better nay crazy sense. Nonetheless better sense prevailed (rather held on) and I continue to trudge along. Never been so unsure. But I know I have made the right call.

I feel that even though I might not exactly be an authority on life and its matters, I really don’t need much of an experience in such matters et all when I make a reflection that ‘Life’ can sometimes really be a bitch. Even if the ‘Don’t Panic’ text is written in large friendly letters, it does very little to calm the ‘Let’s Explore, fug what have I gotten myself into’ state of mind.

All in all, Life can sometimes really be doggish … big and fat, round and hell bound. Smells too.

I would like to add that the hammer man has left town and so has that dull throbbing of my head I had been suffering from for over a year. And that is what is keeping me afloat, for I am definitely breathing better. It is still murky waters and I am struggling to swim. I could do with some friendly lift me ups.

I do tend to go into this ‘What’s with the attitude, people’ line of thought, but lucky for me I realize that it will resolve itself (or them self) in due course of time or maybe I am just being stuck up. Both ways it does nothing to help my cause, so I have dropped it.

It is exciting though, often I am amazed, impressed and almost always learning interesting things. I guess in the end, I just gotta suck it up, forget past laurels and triumphs. Stick to the fact that I am here to learn and understand in order to realize the bigger agenda of my life which fricking remains elusive.

Lot’s of feel n felts – the thesaurus offered no ‘I’m feeling it’ alternatives. Oh and I also got to learn to write shorter precise leveled sentences, for my own good.

Such esoteric rants makes my head spin too.

PS: The england goalie Green is in so much trouble.

When you're Griping and You Know it.. Clap your Hands

At the end of the day a Relationship triumphs. You can spend a thousand years fathoming the unseen intricacies and the misunderstood squabbles and whines. But you have to understand that in the end, when the end comes, it is simply because there is nothing left in you for the relationship to take. So it decides to leave you.

I treat it as an entity. You, me and relationship-three entities. It takes the best of you and your beloved, and what is left in the end are nagging, groveling, griping, selfish, hurtful, spiteful and nasty people while Mr Relationship attains sainthood –of all that was good.

A relationship takes away so much of good in you, that you are left with nothing but regret, despise and a whole load of other debasing and damaging thoughts and foreclosures which sometimes (subjectively speaking) might drown you into the murky waters of intro and retrospection.

I hope you make it to the shore.

Slacktivism

Helloooooooooo readers..

Yes Yes.. I am being sarcastic.. Recently I discovered that my sarcasm is lost on so many that I find it important to point it out specifically.

I wish I could converse with people with Cue cards.I speak holding a cue card -- interpret --Sarci, please respond appropriately in a robot voice…Stop > ..

Well a lot has happened, and a lot remains to unfold. I got a new job, a new hair cut --spent a bomb on my hair which looks just the same as before, I have gained some weight , I have practically given up on staying fit , I have read a million books --Gabriel Garcia Marquez --rockss!! , I have started using ‘ROCKS!!’ a wee bit too often. It seems I am getting younger -- have had an attack of the ACNE -- last time I had it was when I was 18.. I'm being hopeful here. My social life has been engaging—some what, which is extremely amusing.

My Existential crisis has definitely surpassed Hamlets.

I went home and back. I am finally over cup cakes, but I am back to the donut frenzy. I have thirty three brilliant ideas a day, it is an up from twenty. I managed to finish some of my self 'inflicted' writing assignments and I came up with a new word -- Beeverful --can be used as noun, adjective and even a verb --- Beevy, beeverful, Beevandom , it also has an antonym—add suffix ‘UN’ to all.

And now that I have a ten hour a day job, my mind is swimming with ideas of what I could be doing otherwise –quirky things to write on, Capoeira, Yoga, Photography classes, teaching Sabina . Writing like this on Monday 2 am … ahh yes, I got a job. I am amazed at my innate ability to spin my life into these constant tedious circles ever so often.

N SLACKTIVISM…

Well, I have decided to become a slacktivist. It was a difficult decision, because a strident announcement of allegiance to a pledge of fulfillment of an exercise of much magnitude and negligible effect needs a sturdy commitment. But to be honest I realized soon enough, a bit too soon that I wasn’t being very modest. There’s no one who really cares… Helloo ello loo o <>.

I have always have had opinions, judgments and point of views.

To be able to read the paper in peace (a dedicated 2.5 hours) with a good cup of coffee -- as a part of my daily routine – forms a part of my daily prayer to the lord above everyday. And I spent a good part of the day being upset over the certain and very many news pieces I read.

News has always affected me; it makes me think and wonder about the world I live in. It is not a deliberate effort but it is an unconscious element of my being and as with most around -- Crash cart --CLEAR --Mediocrity beckons--bichick. But it is etched deeper than thou . And with my new job, crowded hours -- suddenly the urge to write even more so has quadrupled. .

It is not a new found awareness that I accidently came upon at an 'about time' age. I never really found the need to write about certain things – you talk about it, ponder and maybe tweet two lines. But I wish to take my slacktivist alter ego to the next level –she doesn’t have a name…only this title.

The above rant was an almost necessary preliminary.

Goa Travelogues -- Day 2

Day 2: Blue Lagoon, Kola beach.

The Blue lagoon portrays a sense of remoteness, yet it is not isolated. A small beach tucked in deep . The bio diversity engaging and the ubiquitous tranquility ensuring.

Wiki Map -Kola beach

I wake up in a thatched hut, which is somewhat rickety –the floor boards creek, the wooden bed looks ancient but soft, and the hard board floor is covered with a red carpet all around. The single room hut, erected on stilts, is divided into the bedroom and bath/toilet by a wooden partition which means the toilet and bed are barely a few feet away from each other; I did not mind it at all. Though sometimes, I can hear my roommate taking a dump.*Shudder*

There is no electricity till 6pm, and in the evening the resort is powered by a generator. The lack of electricity is hardly of any consequence; take it from a city girl who loves her warm bath and light in her bathroom even during the day.

The slightness and bareness of the hut with the beach and lagoon as fore is like a lesson in contentment and how it ought to be.

My hut is right by the fresh water lagoon. From my room, I can see the calm lagoon, the beach, and the clear blue sky, a line of coconut trees, a few shrubs and the crashing waves. I breathe in deep, close my eyes, and open them to the same sight. I smile.

Meet Romeo, Sandeep, Nana, and Anil –the care takers, waiters, bartenders, fisher men and the go-to guys. When in the Blue Lagoon resort, you will need to get to know these guys well to make sure your stay is far more pleasant. Befriend them. They are a great bunch of guys - kind, hospitable and chatty with their broken English, which they insist on speaking.

Morning Breakfast: Scrambled eggs, toasts, sautéed mushrooms, orange juice and Nutella pancake. Ram Singh the cook knows his craft well...

Swam in the lagoon, got tanned and then some more. Lounged on a hammock, read my book. Splashed some more. Watched east European babes sun bathe, they have such beautiful bodies.

Lunch: Golden fried squid, Grilled fish and chips and a chilled Tuborg.

Nap.

Chatted with few Brits… chatted some more… We were the only Indians on the beach.

Grimaced when the Brits complimented me on my English. Why the surprise ehh!!!

Splashed in lagoon, splash splash slpash.

The day ambles along. There is no cell phone network, I am glad. I have come here to disconnect, to be left alone. I walk on the cool evening sand, watch the sun set. I meet people from different lands, who don’t know my story; it is a break from familiar. Everyone seems calm and content. It is a relief.

Goa travelogues -- Madame Bovary

More on Goa : click here


I am reading Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. I have been wanting to read this book for so long. It is an interesting read 'FOR ME 'on a holiday like this or otherwise ...simply because the book expresses a state of mind seemingly ubiquitous and familiar...

" No matter, she still wasn't happy,she never had been. What caused this inadequacy in her life? Why did everything she leaned on instantaneously decay? ... Oh, if somewhere there were a being strong and handsome, valiant heart, passionate and sensitive at once, a poet's spirit in an angel's form, a lyre with strings of steel,sounding sweet-sad epithalamiums to the heavens , then why should she not find that being? Vain dream!

.........

Every smile concealed a yawn of boredom, every joy a misery. Every pleasure brought its surfeit; and the loveliest kisses only left upon your lips a baffled longing for a more intense delight.

--

PS : I am not recommending this book as a holiday read ... Just that I love classics and it is a good one.

Goa Travelogues

The past year hasn’t been kind. Ups and downs -- the downs outscoring the ups. Made some decisions, I regret even before the consequences have come to surface. I wait for the results and the consequences. The stress and the anxiety of it make my days very difficult to get by.
When my boy friend offered Goa, I decided to take it up.
I think my holiday started the day I decided to go to Goa.

Day 1: In the train.
I am in the train and I know I have over packed. My fellow commuters are an interesting bunch - An uncle –nephew duo from Bombay, a Swede from Ireland and an extremely pious gentleman from Sinhudurg.
The journey is long. I can never read on a train. But the lively bunch around me engages in interesting discussion, and I find my time passing well. The old gentleman (the uncle) knows Goa well and suggests some interesting places to go—most are Hindu temples. . The Swede is somewhat lost, it is his first time in India and he hasn’t planned his stay here very well. So we all give our two cents each on where to go and what to do. He is patient.
We were travelling by AC 3 tier, Mandowi Express, which starts from Dadar, Mumbai at 7:15 am.
If one plans ahead in time, and wants to travel by train –the night train Konkan Kanya is the best option. It is an overnight journey that one can sleep through and reach Goa the next morning, with the whole day in front of them. If the holiday budget is not too stretched, or if one can plan ahead in time, flights too are a good way to get to Goa.I personally would never recommend the bus. It is torturous, uncomfortable, and long and can really mess up your otherwise great holiday.
We get off at Mudgaon station, the last stop, since we had decided to spend our time only in South Goa.

Day 1: The cab ride.
The 650 rupees cab ride was uneventful, till a certain point. Our cab driver seemed rather scared of driving through the dark and lonely jungle road. He admonished us for not taking the train which reaches Goa in the morning. He whined about the dark roads, late hour (it was 8 pm) and the long distance. He loudly wondered why we chose to stay in an isolated beach unheard of.
Our driver finally lost all cool, when we hit the jungle track which lead to our heavenly dwelling on kola beach. The access road to Blue Lagoon Resort is somewhat tedious, dangerous and in the dark even more ominous. Our driver finally abandoned us in the middle of nowhere and turned back. He swore at the resort people, who had come to lead the way on their bikes, cursed us for wanting to live in such a place and drove away in a huff. His panic was comical. But I wasn’t laughing anymore, when the last light left with the taxi. We were abandoned on top of a hill with our luggage, in midst of heavy under growth, unmarked rutted jungle path, no lights and a bunch of scruffy youngsters on bikes.
We finally reached the resort half trekking and half three on a bike. I held on tight to my two bags (never carry more than a single bag to Goa…never) , the bumps, jerk, the loud whirring added much to my fears.
I was quite scared; I kept imagining a leopard to jump up on to the path in front of us. The jungle around was dense and dark, the road broken, I could barely make out the road and made a mental decision not to traverse this path at night. The evening air was cool, the sky was clear, shimmering with a million stars—a sight not common in the city and I could hear the waves—a gentle gurgle followed by a splash.
The sight that greeted me at the bottom of the hill was the sight I had longed for over a year, ever since my last trip to Goa, when we had chanced upon this little beach and the resort quite by accident.
It has taken me a year to get here, but I am finally here.
PS: These guys really don’t want to be found.

Elsa Diaries 4

I really miss Elsa. It’s been 2 years now. Life choices do keep me busy. I have so much to do, to decide, to understand and to choose. It is scary as every day I am made to realize the urgency of the decisions to be made. There’s always a flutter in my heart—I work, I study, I meet people, I fall in love, I fall out of love, friends depart, friends’ grow apart, new relationships are forged, domestic woes, living alone woes, maid and flat mate squabbles ,money, shopaholicism, loneliness, claustrophobia and the burning desire to do breakaway from mundane. Yes, Life does keep me busy.
But on the days that are the worst, when living gets overwhelming … I desperately look around to seek reprieve, and grieving for Elsa gives me a certain sense of relief. In a way I feel joyful. I go back into the past, to simpler times, I find myself reminiscing the times spent with her; the cuddling (she never cuddled much, hence they were precious), the chases, the games we played –hide and seek, our squabbles, her silly ball, I would steal, to peeve her , the companionship, and the walks. Ahh!!! The walks!!!! I shed tears, sometimes little, often buckets and then I go for a walk alone, I watch people, birds, dogs and cats , cars and buildings , I look away --- I stare at the sea, I stretch, I breathe and I sense calmness , I postpone life for a day and just feel.
Grieving for Elsa always helps…

Yer Yer Yer... Undone !!!

There’s my life, it’s only been 24 years, and yet I find myself wishing I get back a few of my past years (they are after all My Years) , even though I still have more than half of my eternity left. What is it about the past that makes us always want to go back to either change, relive or rectify??? I often ponder, sometimes lament but I don’t wish to unmeet a single person I’ve met.

And then there is the future. I am so scared to age and yet I can’t wait for things to fall in place, but when I walk down a street and see a woman with a child, I wince. And the fact most these women are fat gets to me even more. Two years back, I might have not even noticed the woman, and few years before I actually found babies cute.
It peeves me to realize that I consider marriage and babies a part of life’s plan.

And here I am with my life, which is mine, so precious, so eager and effervescent. I’ve seen and felt so much and you don’t know so much of it. I feel the need to tell you, to explain , relate stories, my experiences, my happiness, my sadness, it’s strange--- it saddens me that it doesn’t make a difference to you.

But pray we meet someday and you love me.