When people start changing.....

Did I mention that we went to stay with some friends for a month and only just recently moved back in? We packed our bags - Orpi, dog, and I and moved in with some guy friends. You know it was almost like being back in college. We have the two friends, plus any amount of their friends who'd drop in every night, pretty fun. It was like one big party every night.

Anyway, I sensed something different in the air. These friends who are usually rough, hairy, deep voiced, tattooed men behaved a bit differently this time. And definitely looked different.
A friend suggested all of this change is coincidental with the legalisation of gay sex in India. Of course, the guys vehemently disagree the legislation has anything to do with their change in behavior. I wouldn't know, I'm not a Psychologist. But what do you think?

:)

Funny, funny racist us

I'm really sick of reading about racial issues! It's almost like everywhere I go, people have new things to say about it every day - be it the racist abuse Indian students are being subjected to in Australia, or the Mizoram Chief Minister's comment about being a victim of racism in his own home country (and his rather disappointing subsequent backtracking).

But I still feel compelled to put my two cents in just for the heck of it and add some funny to the morbidness of this overdone topic.

First, our Chief Minister's comment - some guy (Mizo guy) was talking about that the other night. He was really angry about it, which stumped me initially because I didn't think he said anything wrong. But I found out that his dissension rose from the fact that he thought it was not the CM's place to say what he did because he probably never actually faced any of those abuse himself. But personally, I don't think he has to personally face any of it. His speaking for the people he leads is justified totally.

Anyway, as a person who've spent years living both in North and South India, and also considerable time traveling in those areas that are neither North nor South :), and also as a person who spends every day interacting with Australians, and also physically spent some months there, I think I can be excused for writing about things like this even though they are actually way beyond my area of expertise.

AUSTRALIA

I spent over 2 months in Sydney, and at work, because I only deal with the Australian market, I have long meetings - casual talks, important video conferences with Australians every single working day. And I loved my time in Australia, I ate out every day, exploring all the little cafes and restaurants, pubs and bars around where I stayed, went walking in every park I found, had long talks with random strangers...

In some places, I was taught how to eat my pork ribs (with my bare hands), or how to order my pancakes (with bacon!), I was taught that I shouldn't order a Victoria Bitter if I don't want to go home smelling like a certified bum, and that a nice young lady like me shouldn't be smoking like the others around me :) - all by perfect Aussie strangers.

I have a lot of good memories but I truthfully can't think of one single time that people weren't nice to me because I was Indian. People I met that I spoke with long enough usually just wanted to know stuff like how many languages I speak, what I studied in college etc after learning of my Indian-ness. I thought it was pretty cool to be Indian, it was amazing how people just expected you to be smart if you're one. That was the only thing I felt about being Indian - maybe it's my shallowness but I felt you were automatically expected to be a whiz at something - Math, Science, computers..one of those, and you had to bring them down to Earth, and that was a bit sad, and that was all.

And that's all I have to say about Australia and its people.

INDIA

Our beloved India. Home. Mother ship. Now when was the last time someone hurled racial abuses at me here in my own home country? Hmm, let's see...Hey it was just yesterday! I and a whole bunch of colleagues had gone out for lunch to a nearby restaurant, and while we were walking back, one guy shouted 'Chinky!' at me, and then a second guy 'Nepali!' (Nothing wrong with being Nepali, just the way the shouter meant it - derogatory).

Not a big deal right? Why should it? Happens ALL the time, even kids that can barely utter words will garble 'Chinky' at you. (The way I see it, there are two ways to look at situations like these - be glad you're not that kid, imagine what kind of adult human being you're going to turn into! OR be glad that you're not the parent that raised that kid. What an explanation you're going to have to have before God for your crappy stint at parenting).

When I was just out of college and looking for a job, I was often asked for my work permit, and one time on a telephonic interview I was politely dismissed because 'they didn't hire foreigners.' Some well-meaning friends have tried to help me avoid such problems - "Why isn't your Hindi more fluent? Why isn't your accent more Indian? You're not trying hard enough to fit in" - All of that makes logical sense. But the constitution of India never stated that speaking Hindi fluently, or speaking Hinglish is a prerequisite to being an Indian citizen. Why should I work to worsen my English speaking accent when it's not good enough as it is just to 'fit in'?! :P

Remember that line from the national pledge? "...I am proud of its rich and varied culture." Proud of its rich and varied culture my ass! We like to make fun of any uncommon 'variety' out here (unless it's white skin). Any sort of anomaly is noticed, and made fun of given a chance. Maybe it's ignorance because some of them (what in the world were they taught in school??) don't even know where Mizoram is, some of them even believe with every fibre of their being that the currency of the obscure Mizos is...of all curencies...the famed 'Dollar'!

So who can blame me when I always feel a certain sense of funniness creeping through my marrow every time I hear a passionate speech about Australians treating Indians unfairly, a look-downer complaining about being looked down upon. So I take sneaky glances to make sure I'm not watched and then I laugh. Evilly. I can't help it.

Oh and before I forget, I have to add that my two closest friends here (Tamil and Mallu) agree with me. They say they are abused more in India than in Australia. On this ratio -

Time range of 60 days
India: Australia = 10 (avg) racial slurs: 0 racial slurs

MIZORAM

Aah! Our own personal tiny little sea of unadulterated racist and bigoted heaven! The problem (pretty much like overall India) is that we vehemently deny that we have an inch of racist bone in our bodies. Maybe because we really believe that we don't have an inch of racist bone in our bodies.

But the thing is, we are. We sang songs in schools that made us believe that we're particularly gifted and blessed - praising our looks, our goals, our land. We take pride in our Mizo-ness...although I have to admit, there's a lot to be proud of :P (darn it, old habits die hard!).

(On a side note, this is why I really feel for Michael Jackson. People accusing him of being ashamed of his race and trying to remove all traces of it from himself. If people accused me of being ashamed of being Mizo, I would get my Ninja gear out IMMEDIATELY!)

In school, we made it really hard for non-Mizo students to fit in (with very few exceptions). How many of us didn't make fun of the red-ribboned, braided hair of the non-Mizos? Or the smell of heavily oiled hair? We made fun of all those because they were foreign to us.

Comparatively, while it was very, very, very difficult for a non-Mizo kid to be popular in an otherwise all Mizo school, it's not as difficult for a Mizo kid in a non-Mizo school/college/group to fit in. Even though strangers may shout 'Chinky,' 'Momo,' etc in the streets, in my own personal environment - classroom, work, I'm accepted, part of the group, member of anything I wish to be a member of. I'm often the person who starts and wins arguments, often the person who talks and laughs the most, and the loudest, who gets all the right invitations to all the right events. Because they unbiasedly let me.

To be honest, I can't see us Mizos being that open to a non-Mizo that they would ever get a chance to take centre stage.

And here's another example, if a 'Vai' got into some minor problem in Mizoram (eg. unfair taxi fare?), would they dare approach the local police? And if they did, unless they got lucky and found an evangelical policeman filled with the Spirit to assist them, I think it would be quite futile for them. Alternatively, if I do that out here, I know the police will listen to me. Thankfully, I haven't required police intervention too often but I have done it twice, both for rickshaw fares, and on both occasions walked away with the problem resolved - in the Chinky's favour.

As for the screamers, the ones that like to shout the nasty racial words, again out here, I have countless times approached and confronted them. They always back away, or apologise profusely, or meekly deny that they said anything bad. In Mizoram, if you scream 'Vai chhia' and that person is stupid enough to come challenging you for it, I'm pretty sure they would be sent away wishing they'd kept their mouths shut.

So that's it, in my opinion, we're equally bad. I think they're horrid out here, I think we're horrid back home. In the same way that they're wonderful out here, and we're wonderful back home. There are people with warm, open hearts here, and back home too. But racism is such a tricky topic because in our heart of hearts, I believe we're all racist assholes.

But you know, with all that's said and done, I am really, really glad that I'm Mizo because in Mizoram, a poor kid can go to the same school as the rich kids, get the same quality of education, a poor person can marry a rich person, a poor person is as welcome anywhere as a rich person is...

And no Mizo will ever deem another Mizo untouchable...

And your skin colour doesn't describe the quality of who you are, and the person you are, not your caste or skin color, still defines your class.

And I know my neighbors will care about me enough to feed and clothe me if I ever find myself destitute.

We're not any better, but I think we're at least pretty good to members of our own race, unlike other races. And that's really something to think about......

So I don't know who the winner is. But oh, the funniness of it all! We human beings are such weird creatures.

But do we all really even care that much? Me, I'm really concerned about the fact that a strap on my shoe broke this morning - at work, and I already made dinner plans for tonight, and for now my only option is to go with my gym shoes. That worries me more than racial issues.

Sometimes I worry about my silliness, then I read the news and realise that I need not worry about being silly because mankind is with me on this one.

I HATE waiting for people!

Bored bored bored! It's funny how I am ALWAYS on time, but most of my friends are extremely tardy. Waiting drives me up the walls. It makes me want to scratch the walls and eat paper and plastic. And also forces stupid thoughts into my head. Like how the invention of email must be a real life savior for cacographic people. I'm kidding. I'm just trying to show off the new word I learned recently. I'm reading a book on Etymology and my vocabulary has increased considerably, but sadly, mostly with words that I really have no use for. It's pretty pointless. But I think I'll be better equipped if I ever feel like being an ass and throwing big words around one of these days.

Just to end nicely - a picture from our office prom night themed dinner with all the beautiful ladies I work with.

Genral Hot Men update :P

I saw Angels and Demons and Ewan McGregor in his priest's habit was so freakingly sexy! I think I've finally uncovered one of the hidden truths that have escaped many a wise man, which is this: The only thing hotter than a Scottish man in a kilt is a Scottish man in a priest's habit :)

I also saw Wolverine and I thought Wade with his mouth stitched up and eyes all surgery scarred was crazy hot in a weird, inexplicable way. Unthinkable, but yes, even sexier than a naked Wolverine.

I worry myself sometimes, I have such sick taste in men.

And the best thing I've heard lately in the world of movies: The ultimate favorite book of my life, Alice in Wonderland, has been made into a movie by my favorite genious movie maker, Tim Burton, and stars my favorite genious actors, Johnny Depp & Helena Bonham Carter. Is anyone else as excited about this movie as I am? Me, I think I'll just hibernate and only wake up when this movie comes out.

BDSM gears from Pakistan?

Did you know that there is (or maybe are..) a factory in Pakistan where women make BDSM fetish clothing and other bondage gears?

I didn't either. I saw it on TV some days back and thought it was report worthy. Of course, I was shocked, but after thinking about it for a while, it just started becoming funny. Apparently, the Pakistani factories are making them for big sex shops in Europe.

This may sound a bit wrong, but I still have to say it because the whole picture if you think about it is quite priceless :) ---------- Okay, think of some trashy racist white people who likes to scream 'Dirty Paki!' at all dark-skinned Dravidian looking people. And then they go home and don their naughty S&M gear made by the same group of people as the one they derisively called 'Paki' that day. And remember, this 'donning' here is not regular donning. It is 'donning' in the most intimate way possible!

And then on the other side, we have a bunch of self-righteous, ultra-conservative group who look on the white man with disgust - all of them lacking in morality, sexually indulgent, does all sorts of unthinkable sexual acts, all bound for hell...

And yet...their own people make with their own 'purist' hands these white people's dirty tools of hedonism! :P

Those hideous leather masks...those leather whips, those sinful collars, leashes, clamps and other equipments used to carry out such *gasp!* unspeakable acts?! Yet, yet...it is so.

If this is like drugs where the person who makes and distributes it is as to blame as the buyer and user (or even more so) - one has to wonder who's really bound for hell.

Anyway, on a more serious note and leaving the funny aside, isn't it astounding how little we know about the world and the people around us? BDSM & bondage gears & Pakistan, our warm & friendly (:P) next door neighbor?! Who would've thought! So many things on Earth that we're not aware of, so many new things to learn every day it's an absolute pleasure :P

What Women Really Want

Now that I've blogged enough about my 'baby' sister's marriage, I've had many questions about when I get to do it (as expected). It's difficult because like Macavity says, all the good men are either married, gay, priests, dead, or Vampires.

See, the thing here is, it's easy for some because the kind of things they look for in a man are maybe a bit more realistic and therefore easier to find (and I mean that in a good way). While there are these unfortunate, stupid few who can't shake their dreams of romance and everlasting love and dancing under the stars and are, therefore, doomed to wander longer, if not for their entire lifetimes on earth. What I mean here when I say what women really want are what those unfortunate women want. I'll tell you what those crazy women want because I'm one of them.

On one of my travels, I met this lovely couple from Israel - Anat & Arieh. Anat is actually Italian and so they love and eat a lot of Italian food. Before her mom passed away, Anat's mom gave all her secret recipes to Arieh instead of her own daughter! "Cook for her" she told him, and they're in their late 50s now and Arieh has been faithfully cooking Italian food for Anat ever since. And that's the kind of story I want for myself.

And what else do I and the rest of those unfortunate women want? Not all that complicated really....

- We don't want you to cross oceans for us. We only want you to swim just two miles across a lake for us. Swim across forbidden lakes, defy governments and house arrests to be with us. (Apparently, someone's been reading the news :))

- Fly across the planet because you suddenly realise the world may end anytime and you think it would be sad to never get to be with me before it ended ;) (I'm winking at you Hellboy :))

- And do small, easy things. Like using my name as your password.

- Love my dog. Or my cat. Or my goldfish. Or my parakeet. Or my pet snake. Not for their sake, but because you love me.

- Write me a poem. Or a song. However crappy it may be. Let the grammar and the syntax be all off, but write me one anyway.

- Strengthen my belief in myself and God. All too often I see couples where the women become increasingly neurotic and insecure as the relationship wears on. And all too often, for some reason or the other, God becomes a distant 'third party' in your lives.

- Make me a better person by treating my family and friends like they're better than you.

- Ask me to dance with you in the rain. Wake me up in the middle of the night to dance with you under the stars.

- Run through the water sprinklers with me on a hot summer day without worrying about looking stupid and what people think.

- Go shopping with me, and pretend you don't hate it so much. Even if you do.

- Write me letters sometimes (not emails, real paper letters). Even if we see each other every damn day.

- And still woo me and read me poetry when I am old and gray and full of sleep...


And I can go on and on...as I'm sure all my similar-feathered friends will have their own inexhaustive lists. But hey, none of them are that difficult are they? Nothing about diamonds or fast cars or fancy homes.

Just real love and real men.

(And don't mention reading too many Mills & Boon novels. I've only read one, or two at the most in my life!)

Isn't she lovely!

Here it is finally - my sister's 'I Do' pictures. I'm happy for her, but it's still a weird feeling when somebody you still can't stop thinking of as your 'baby' sister is now a married woman. But looking at this picture, I see she is indeed a woman now, and she looks lovely!
Someone I know saw the above picture and exclaimed "When in the world did you get married??!" :P
The many kids in our family. Check out the encircled area, that's got to be the cutest little pair of slippers on the most adorable little pair of feet I've seen in a long time :)And I look at this picture of a Kolasib (where the wedding took place) countryside and all I can think of is how much I miss Mizoram right now. I want to walk on those tiny roads and roam the forests and breathe in that good Mizoram air. In fact, I know exactly what that countryside must smell like - fresh earth and foliage baking in the sun. The type of smell that the most expensive perfume makers will never be able to capture in a bottle. The type that makes you remember warm daddy bear hugs and soft mum hands and cute cousin feet :) I haven't missed home this badly in a long time, and I don't think I'm going to be able to wait till Christmas to get there.

And yet more disadvantages

What used to be a 10 Rupee note after Bozo -My iPod speaker cable after Bozo -
Cable that used to connect iPod to laptop after Bozo (the new one cost me Rs 500)
Something that used to be a Rs 250 leash after Bozo -
And now after many, many chewed up pairs of shoes and T-shirts and many other disabled cables (cooler cable, extension cords) later, he's still with us. Also, dog food isn't cheap, he drinks more milk in a month than I would in a year, and doggy toys are as expensive as real kid toys. And I pull out of so many dinners and night outs I feel like a mother who's got to rush home early every night because she's got kids at home. But yes, he's still around, and it's because of moments like these :)

Advantages & disadvantages of owning a dog

Bozo the much loved, spoiled family dog. He is 9 months old but he still thinks he's a month old puppy. And as you can see, his cuteness is overwhelming. Bozo guards my room faithfully. Bozo makes coming home so lovely. Bozo is affectionate and extremely loving. Bozo makes us laugh.
Then he chews up my friends' ciggies when they spend the night here. No room for anyone else's cigarette packs except mine and Orpi's I guess.

Some PhotoFunia fun

Silly, but I still can't stop laughing :)

Here's a sizzling Macavity -
Next, we have a buff Orpi -
And then a Sohna in Depp's clothing -
Then of course, Yours Truly. Couldn't pass up the chance to have Dane Cook all over me :)

A contented little shit

I logged on for the first time today to see what messages people have lovingly left for me. There was only one and it said: I see that you are a little shit. I will start calling you Miss Pissy!

What would my life be without such loving people in my life leaving me such wonderful messages of goodwill and cheer like this one! **sigh** It's so good to be loved.

So today because I just couldn't get enough of the beauty of the Earth, we went walking in the park ignoring the 39 degree Centigrade heat and the toxic amount of ozone we were possibly exposed to. Nothing a good sunscreen and dark shades can't take care of right?

Anyway, it was well worth it, and I took pictures so you all can share in the prettiness of my world :D As a member of the region's fauna, I should and in fact do hate summers, but it's impossible to not love what it does to the flora though...The park was so vibrant with colors and life it just rejuvenates you. Way better than spending the day at an expensive spa.
I'm not sure which flower it came from but I swear the air smelled like honey. I half-suspected these yellow flowers...and I'm frustrated right now because I know (or at least used to) what they're called but I can't remember, been wracking my brains all day but still no divine revelations.
Now this picture below is a perfect example of how being an adult sucks sometimes. Those kids were stealing mangoes! And us, all we did was walk around appreciating trees and flowers and fruits and acted like decent citizens. Just once I want to climb over somebody's fence and climb a mango tree and steal some fruits again. I was a master in that game. And one thing about stolen fruits - the biggest, juiciest most expensive fruit that you can buy in the market will never ever ever taste half as good as that scrawny fruit you stole. That's why I strongly believe that fruits should only be stolen, never bought :-) Yet I've been consistently breaking this rule for the past God knows how many years because I'm a frigging adult!
You can't see it very clearly but see the hazy orange patch on the lawn? Those are orange Cosmos. Such a treat for this Cosmos girl.
And - single pairs of shoes on the roadside always makes me wonder. Who did it belong to? Where's the other pair? How did this end up here? An auto accident? Drunk bike rider? In this particular case, what made the owner pick this one - was it keeping the long term investment in mind? (If so, very good investment I must say!) Or did he pick them for the style and fashion? Did the wearer ever secretly find his treads heavy while wearing them? And so on and so forth...
And, we hitched a free ride back home with an auto-wallah and his family :)
And that ends the day. And yes, I may be a little shit but I'm a pretty okay little shit! :-)

General boringness

Let's chase it away. This picture I took of O a couple of nights back should do it. You have to look at that encircled body part and the magnitude of its size should have you doubling up with laughter. It's just a really weird picture because she's got a perfectly normal big toe but it came out all weird in this picture. At work with Macavity. We complain a lot. We work a lot. We laugh a lot. We dream about Keats and Shelley, zookeepers in Africa, and boring-red-haired-freckled-pale-yet-omg-I-love-him Irish men. We talk about our love for Billy Graham and Ritchie Blackmore equally passionately. And both our other computers are data centers :D Well, my other other computer. My other computer is tucked away in the kitchen shelves making friends with cobwebs.
And lastly - Hellboy!In fact, I actually feel like talking about movies a bit. Very unlike me. But I'm on the topic of Hellboy now, and I love both Hellboy movies. I love that scene in Hellboy II when that flower monster died and all the plant gunk spilled out of it but immediately sprang to life with green plants and white flowers. How beautiful was that! I love all movies with aliens, dragons, strange creatures, and vikings in it.

With the exception of Outlander. When that movie came out, I was excited as hell - dragons, aliens, Vikings, PLUS time-traveling all in one movie!! I thought whoever decided to make it was brilliant. But it was disappointing. The Vikings weren't hot. I know Wulfric was supposed to be, but he just wasn't somehow. He actually looked hot only finally in the end after he died.

And Smriti insisting on calling the Morwens 'Mormons' made it difficult to be serious. I mean you're sitting there trying to focus on the movie, and then Smriti chirps "Wasn't there another Mormon inside chewing up people?!?" She never figured it out till the end, despite us laughing every time she talked about them, she called them Mormons to the very end.

I also saw Watchmen recently. I can't stand what's his name - the Iron man guy..damn it I can't even remember his real name. Some Jr (the only name that keeps coming up in my head is Harry Conick Jr and I know it's not him). Especially with his woman beating role in Watchmen, I prayed fervently that he would die soon. My favorite character was Rorschach, but even he just made me think of Psychology classes in college and my much admired professor - Murthy Madam. It made me remember our Psychology classr0om with cracks all along the concrete wall and roof from a previous earthquake, and how Murthy Madam would say 'Roarrsshach' - always very deliberately.

Sigh. When do we get another movie like..Forrest Gump! There hasn't been any movie that I've seen in the last many years that has ever made a profound impact on me. No wonder I'm not a movie lover.

Please let it stop

Is there any kindred soul out there who knows the pain, the pure torment and the wretchedness of living next to a function hall in India? A function hall used for wedding and engagement ceremonies.

I want to know who in this world thought putting together a band of hyper-muscled, sexually frustrated, testosterone-pumped young men and giving them drums and cymbals and trumpets and all other unpleasant percussion instruments would be a good idea! Why was he not gagged and mummified before he had a chance to voice his idea!

And I want to know how those overdressed, obese, and unhealthy guests can not be under the influence of alcohol or drugs and yet manage to perceive such damaging energy wave as 'dancing music,' even prancing and hopping around several inches off the ground into the air propelled by it - and not out of the torture of having their eardrums blasted by having to endure up close sounds of such horrific amplitude. How those diabetic and sugar-ridden feet accomplish that is just beyond me.

And in this population of horny millions, calculate the odds of that function hall ever being quiet - which is never. Our poor souls! And all of this combined with the dry heat of this land, I have to get down and ask God what I have ever done to deserve this.

Oh! Suddenly for an exultant me, the mad drummers have all been suddenly led away by the Pied Piper I think, to be led to the river where they will deservingly be drowned. And in my room peace has reigned once again! But ssssh! If they hear me hurraying, they might come back again.

And for anyone who currently lives or have or will be living next to a popular function hall and knows what I'm talking about - I want to express my solidarity with all suffering comrades. Let us hope the recession, if we're going to have to deal with it anyway, at least hit us where it matters - people abandoning lavish halls and getting married simply at home to invest the money instead on new hearing aids - would be a good example.

Bozo & Lucky - Best friends come rain or shine

Bozo got pretty big, and also became more and more difficult to leave alone. He barked and howled and yelped everytime we left him alone, which was often. The neighbours complained, the landlord complained, and more than anything I felt bad for him because he wouldn't be so difficult if he was happy. I finally took him to my friend, Lucky's owner and dumped him there. I was initially afraid that Lucky with his bear like paws and claws and fangs would pounce on puny Bozo and kill him - intentionally or acidentally. But they have become the best of friends, and Bozo even bosses Lucky around. They are together all the time, and I'm glad for Bozo, and also glad for Lucky (who was left alone even more often than Bozo was). They are really happy together, and this makes me happy because I love them both. Cute vid of them and us killing the summer heat with our water guns.

Is it a bit weird that when Bozo runs off to play with Lucky leaving me alone, I feel a teeny bit jealous? It's a very embarrassing thing to admit, but god help me, I am jealous of an oversized dog!

Sober thoughts

It's 6:40 am, and I've been up since 5 - reading, writing, praying a little (or at least trying to). It's ironic that throughout the week, I have to struggle to get out of bed when my alarm goes off at 7:30. And long for the weekend to come just so I can indulge in the languoruous luxury of sleeping in late. But here I am - awake and already bored. And it's not even 7 yet.

I woke up and before I was fully awake, a thought entered my head. Why do I wake up each day? What is the purpose of my life? It can't be just about work and fun and shopping. There has to be something else. And like any normal human being, I yearn to make my life mean something, that what I do or don't do can someday make a difference to other people. But wanting to be good doesn't mean being good. And this is what I think of when I wake up every day - is it enough to be happy? Why do I feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing - that I am an underperformer in life?

I work my ass off. I love, and revel in being loved. I laugh and cry - but what does it matter that I laugh harder than anyone else? What difference does it make if I have more fun in my life than the average person? I never feel it's enough. That doesn't make me this something that I feel I have to be.

Will God look at me and think what a waste of time it was that He created me and that He loved me and guided me and that I turned out like this? Will He suddenly decide to take my life away because He thinks it's wasted? I sometimes feel like I'm still living - but on a trial basis. "Okay, here's giving Jerusha some more chance to get her act together. Let's see if she'll ever live up to the reason why I created her." And if I don't prove myself worthy of this life I've been given, what then? Is that when God usually decides to rid the world of useless human beings?

I met a man last night, some fancy business man. We struck up a conversation and I still can't get over it. To keep it simple, he was talking about the purpose of his one day trip to India - some high level business deal. I joked that one day I would like to be invisible and sit in on one of these meetings where they talk about 'billions' of dollars, just to see how different it is from the meetings that I know. He said "It's not about the billions. In the end, there's only one question - are you happy?"

If being happy is all it takes to live a meaningful life, then my life is pretty meaningful. But I'm still pretty sure it's not just about happiness.

This beautiful world that we live in

I took some personality assessment quizzes some days back, all of which told me that I am aggressive and that I intimidate people. I'm shocked and hurt. Me? Intimidating? A gentle, kind, and loving soul such as I?? Quite impossible. Yet, they suggest that I do indeedy do! So anyway, just to prove them wrong, I decided to pay attention to details when I'm with my friends and make little notes and then compare how we deal with things/people so I can at least tell myself "See I'm not any more aggressive than the next person." Or maybe if I found out I was, I could at least work towards mending myself.

And when I started paying attention, I noticed things. There are two instances of note that stand out in my mind:

The first one happened last week. One fine morning Orpi and I were riding on a rickshaw to go grocery shopping when two guys on a bike started following us. Not useful info, but interesting to know - us two girls after climbing out of bed had only brushed teeth and washed faces before climbing in the rickshaw. We both wore old ripped t-shirts and equally unappealing slacks. In fact, I was still wearing what I was wearing in bed. We were that sloppy.

As for our two guys on the bike - they were not handsome, or remotely attractive, but it was obvious that they were men who paid a lot of attention to outward appearances from the way their jeans and their shirts were all embroidered to death with the all the colors of the rainbow, and then some.

Also sported other tell-tale signs - repulsively beauty-salon-straightened hair, fake designer sunglasses, and local gym powered baby biceps. You know - the works. Well except for the shoes. But we all know that that's the norm in our beloved country. Shoes don't matter. Ugly shoes, broken shoes, oversized shoes, undersized shoes, dirty shoes, smelly shoes - they all go as long as your clothes have something shiny attached to them.

Anyway, these two men followed us for about a good 10 minutes before they finally threw a piece of paper at us. Do not forget that we ignored them completely, and this act of throwing paper was done despite us showing absolutely no interest. The paper landed on Orpi's lap, and I knew immediately what it was going to be. Orpi however was quite flummoxed.

I told her if she opened the piece of paper, she would find a very undesired, unwanted, and unasked for phone number scribbled on it. Well, she unfolded the piece of paper - revealing the phone number as predicted (and at the same time my great wisdom). A phone number on lined paper with a pencil. How classic! Anyway, there were several things that I found quite perplexing -

1. Note that all of these happened at around 10 in the morning. That's grossly early in the city on a Saturday morning. I understand a bit of flirting at certain times of the day, but at 10 AM?!

2. Do these men carry pieces of paper and a pencil with them at all times? Or do they have many readymade pieces of paper with their numbers already written and they take several out with them each time they leave the house? Like the way you ensure you have sufficient cash in your wallet before leaving the house...

3. If so, how many charitable contributions do you figure they make on an average day? And has any of these contributions ever resulted in the desired phone call?

4. If so, who are these women who actually call them? And who are their doctors?

5. Us at our sloppiest best and sleep in our puffy eyes. Them with them slick overly straight hair and shaved chests and 'Versase' emblazoned shirts - why were we not simply overlooked? Why were we so graciously bestowed with their phone number? Should we flatter ourselves? Did they find us pretty? Sexy? Attractive? Girlfriend material? Wife material? Sex-slave material?

(I can answer this. Ladies, if this ever happens to you, don't get ideas in your heads. It doesn't mean you've turned into a great beauty suddenly. Chances are you look quite as normal/bad as you looked the last time you looked at yourself or even worse, taking the heat, the dust and grime, the wind in your hair, and the general pollution into consideration. What these men are doing is being smart. They are simply increasing their odds and consequently their chances of winning by showering every girl they see with their little gift.)

The stunned Orpi turned me to me and asked "What should I do? Should I just throw it out?" I told her to do the only thing I would have done if it was my hand that was holding the paper. "Put your hands outside where they can see it and tear it up in front of them."

I can't help it. I didn't and still don't know any better way of handling the situation. It wasn't aggressiveness.

The second incident happened last Thursday. I was with the good Macavity walking down a busy road - full of honking vehicles stuck in a traffic jam when some horrible person threw water at us! It hit us on our backs, drenching us from the neck down. I'm a pretty good sport at things like these during Holi, but it was not Holi or any sort of festival that involves throwing water on people. When we turned round to look, we just saw the endless sea of vehicles with many bored looking drivers and passengers.

I can't explain the kind of rage that engulfs you when something like this happens to you. It's a murderous anger, it's anger that makes wives kill husbands and kids kill classmates. But I'm scared shit of jails :P, and I didn't have a weapon. So all I did was stand and look around, trying to find who the culprit was, looking into the faces of everyone around me trying to detect some sign of guilt. And when I couldn't find any, I did the next best thing I could do. I swore.

"I wish that fucker would die right NOW!"

I normally don't use words like 'fucker' but I was so mad it just came on its own, as smooth and natural as words (:P) like 'Goo' slide up an infant's throat. Then the good, always-in-control Macavity piped in "I don't want them to die, but yeah, I do wish something unpleasant happens to them."

I found it cute. Yet almost ridiculous. I like expletives now and then. They express things so frigging well. Sorry :D! And it was not like I really wanted them to die. I wanted them to die in my speech - that's about all. If that makes any sense. That's like killing someone in a book. Pretty harmless and legal. It's better than throwing water on innocent women walking down the road.

Anyway, if these things make me an aggressive bitch, so be it. I think we can be cute and pink with dogs and babies and mums and a few other loved ones. As for the rest, a little aggression won't harm anyone and will also keep us safe in this very beautiful world with its very beautiful human beings.

RIP Dan Seals

My heart is breaking! Dan Seals died Wednesday. I just heard about it today, now I hate myself for overworking and not even checking up on the news! Just yesterday I and a friend were having this conversation about places where we'd like to settle down. She asked me to pick between Rome and Montana. I picked Montana, and she asked me why because she thought Rome would be a blatant choice for anyone - warmer, and it's not in America :)

I told her -

"Won't you meet me in Montana
I wanna see the mountains in your eyes
I've had all of this life I can handle
Meet me underneath that big Montana sky..."

It's Dan Seals voice singing about the mountains of Montana and the big Montana sky that I grew up with. All my life I've always had this lovely picture of Montana in my head because of this song. Mountains and clear blue skies, and meeting my cowboy under that big Montana sky. And even though I don't know what Montana really is like, picking between Montana and Rome was easy. (And I just Googled Montana, and it looks EXACTLY the way I've always pictured it )

And that was yesterday, and we laughed about it. And now I learn he's dead, and I am just so friggin' sad! :(

I love the man. Dan Seals - his voice, his songs - I don't even know where to start. How many of his songs have I cried to? And I have never grown out of them. I have my iPod here - full of new age, modern music, current hits, and heavy banging songs. And amidst all these, my Dan Seals songs - they're all still there. And I'm never taking them down. They'll rage on. And copying the following from a fan site:

"I think God must be a cowboy at heart He made wide open spaces from the start He made the grass, the trees, the mountains and a horse to be your friend And trails to lead ole cowboys home again..."

The cowboy made it home.

Rest in peace Dan.

I'm balding

It's the end of the quarter and you know how it goes - everyone frantically trying to do or make it look like they did all the work they were supposed to do in the last 3 months. In one word - CRAZY! For many nights, the computer has often been my chosen companion for the night. Enveloped in its warm loving glow I forget how to stop sometimes.

So tonight's been one of those nights. I made an effort to go shopping with a friend, only to make some excuse to cut it short so I could run back to my computer. I've been tapping away happily enough, deeply engrossed when one of my little installed gadget that pops up with wise sayings now and then suddenly popped up a saying by Leo Tolstoy. And guess what it said? It said "In the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you."

The manner in which it popped up, and the time it picked to pop up made me feel like there was something intense to it, some deeper sign that I should pay heed to. It wasn't easy but I stopped a moment, ceased my work, carefully looked around, my head reeling with deadlines and reviews and revenue figures...

"Hmm, my bedside table and the lamp on it needs dusting...hmm my calendar is still on January, should change...nothing significant, maybe I should just stop listening to Tolstoy and go back to work."

And when I glanced back towards my monitor, I saw a picture a friend had sent earlier in the day that I never actually looked at was still open. A recent picture from a farewell party of a friend who was leaving the country. So I took a look, and took a closer look, and what did I see?Can you see? I'm BALDING! Maybe in spots, but it definitely is there. Terror gripped me! Am I not too old for Alopecia? Am I not too young to be losing hair? And to think I've been walking around, even dancing with this bald spot on my scalp all this time! No wonder people always stare and whisper when I walk by...

And now I can't work, because I'm worried about this very worrisome condition of my scalp. Which I would have been very blissfully oblivious of if only I hadn't listened to Mr Tolstoy. And didn't some other wise person say ignorance is bliss? I mean look at the picture - I was all ha ha-ing, oblivious but worry-free. Now I can hope to get no rest because that ignorance has been taken away from me.

Anyway, the moral of the story is - don't listen when you get random wise sayings by random wise men that are even more randomly thrown at you. Especially if it's by Leo Tolstoy.

Wedding Bells again - not mine again

My little sister is getting married - more blog posts to be made about that, but I'm saving that for the coveted rare Mizo post.

I'm glad for my sister. The guy she's marrying is someone I genuinely like, so no issues there. BUT...can you imagine what it's going to be like for poor "old" me when I go home for the wedding? The pressure and the annoying jokes I'm going to have to face...I dread it. I wish I can not go, I wish I can stay here and send them a nice present and call them on their wedding day to congratulate them. But my little sister is getting married, and I really really want to be there on her special day...

I feel bad that my mom worries about me not 'having a man around to take care of me.' But I don't get why she worries. All my life, for as long as I can remember, I've always been taught that the ultimate aim of Jerusha as a person is to be an individual who will always take care of herself no matter what. Men may die, fathers may pass away, husbands may leave, and you never know when you'll have to stand on your own.

Well they was what I was taught, and now all of a sudden here she is, breaking my heart because I sadden her by being single. 'If I were to die, I'd feel better if I you had a husband to take care of you' she says. I feel bad that she feels bad even if currently I don't think I can have a life any better than I have it now.

But brash people who don't know how not to poke their noses into people's personal lives, or people who genuinely care will say things that hurt me. And I will leave Mizoram with crushed confidence like I always do. It's going to be ugly. Don't get me wrong, it's going to be a beautiful day, but it's going to be ugly for me.

Why can't people understand that people's lives and thoughts are their own and that it's rude to pry or offer too many advices? Or that some people want to be crazy in love with the person before they decide to marry them and not just get married to a socially acceptable person just because they feel they have to get married? And that not everyone buckles under pressure?

And sometimes people do meet people that they do fall crazily in love with but there are things that stands in your way and marriage is just out of the question. It would be so unfair to get married - unfair on me, and unfair for whoever the man is that I marry. Imagine lying in bed with someone who is your husband and thinking about some other man every night! It's going to feel like committing adultery every night. And what's worse, I'm not even sure towards whom my guilt would lie - towards my husband for thinking of another man or to the someone you keep thinking of for having sex with my 'husband.' It's just unthinkable!

And---------------

And no! It wasn't my boyfriend that lied to me.