Was at lunch today at Fountain Sizzlers. Hoping for many more such meetings atleast in the 14 weeks that he’s in Mumbai for. One of the only people in this world that I can be myself with.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
What is my true calling?
I'm already unhappy. Or is it because I'm just so fussy? What I really want to do in life is travel around the world and write about it. When can I? Am I a traveller trapped in a banker's body?
Sunday, July 22, 2007
A New Perspective
Everything that I complained about while being in Delhi I now worship. The annoying traffic jams for no reason (especially the 'gridlocks' that occur out of nowhere), the incessant breaking of traffic rules by everyone, the curfew imposed on me by my folks, the constant involvement of my family in my life, the horrible weather,
In the end, Delhi is where my home is, where my family is, where my special someone is, where my heart will always be. I may be an anomaly of nature, for I am not one who has taken to the cosmopolitan, corporate Mumbai. Friends and family told me I'd love it here. But for me there was nothing here that I didn't have.
Freedom is something many people yearn for. One usually experiences it when they move out of home and move into hostel. But there still lies a protected environment, in whatever small form. Once you begin to work and begin to earn one's keep, financial freedom, is a feeling which is mind-numbing to say the very least. No more scrimping and scrounging on the pocket money which was just never enough. But it goes beyond money too. There is the freedom to be out at whatever time you want to, to eat pizza for dinner every damn day without someone breathing down your neck telling you to eat dal-chawal, to invite any number of friends over whenever you want to, to buy that expensive pair of shoes that you just had to have, to pack your bags and leave on a mini-vacation without giving a thousand explanations and reasons.
But today I realise that what my parents said was so true. There was nothing that I was deprived of. I had all the freedom you could imagine. What restrictions were imposed on me were because they cared. In fact, a small civil discussion with them often ended up with me getting my way, whether it was a late-night curfew or a raise in my allowance.
I don't associate freedom with Mumbai. I associate suffocation. From the tiny roads overflowing with vehicles, to the murky water of the sea, to the travelling in the local trains with barely any space to breathe, to the basic absence of footpaths, to the tiny houses (I mean, apartments!), I fail to see how someone can grow to love this place so much. Either I haven't given myself enough time to like this city, or maybe I just happened to see the negative side of it. Whatever it may be, my home is where my heart will always be.
In the end, Delhi is where my home is, where my family is, where my special someone is, where my heart will always be. I may be an anomaly of nature, for I am not one who has taken to the cosmopolitan, corporate Mumbai. Friends and family told me I'd love it here. But for me there was nothing here that I didn't have.
Freedom is something many people yearn for. One usually experiences it when they move out of home and move into hostel. But there still lies a protected environment, in whatever small form. Once you begin to work and begin to earn one's keep, financial freedom, is a feeling which is mind-numbing to say the very least. No more scrimping and scrounging on the pocket money which was just never enough. But it goes beyond money too. There is the freedom to be out at whatever time you want to, to eat pizza for dinner every damn day without someone breathing down your neck telling you to eat dal-chawal, to invite any number of friends over whenever you want to, to buy that expensive pair of shoes that you just had to have, to pack your bags and leave on a mini-vacation without giving a thousand explanations and reasons.
But today I realise that what my parents said was so true. There was nothing that I was deprived of. I had all the freedom you could imagine. What restrictions were imposed on me were because they cared. In fact, a small civil discussion with them often ended up with me getting my way, whether it was a late-night curfew or a raise in my allowance.
I don't associate freedom with Mumbai. I associate suffocation. From the tiny roads overflowing with vehicles, to the murky water of the sea, to the travelling in the local trains with barely any space to breathe, to the basic absence of footpaths, to the tiny houses (I mean, apartments!), I fail to see how someone can grow to love this place so much. Either I haven't given myself enough time to like this city, or maybe I just happened to see the negative side of it. Whatever it may be, my home is where my heart will always be.
Making It On My Own
I relocated to Mumbai 2 months ago. Initially thought to be the best decision I made (primarily career-wise), I am now inclined to think otherwise.
As my emotional highs and lows are more frequent occurrences than before, you can be sure of numerous posts from my end narrating my experiences as I 'struggle' to acclimatise myself to this godforsaken city called Mumbai.
As my emotional highs and lows are more frequent occurrences than before, you can be sure of numerous posts from my end narrating my experiences as I 'struggle' to acclimatise myself to this godforsaken city called Mumbai.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The Best of Times and the Worst of Times
The 2 and a half months between convocation and joining work can well be a test of your patience. With absolutely nothing to do and no commitments whatsoever, this period is one that is sent from up above. But are we ever satisfied with what we have? The grass is always greener on the other side.
I have been pulling my hair out ever since I got back home from L. The first couple of weeks were refreshing. Waking up late, no reports to write, no exams or quizzes coming up. But I missed the excitement that I had left behind. Everyday was a reminder that my student life is over. Everyone keeps reminding me how this time should be cherished because it will never come back. Why then am I at the end of my road? I have nothing to do. I've met up with friends, have spent time with my family, have watched a zillion movies and tv serials, have caught up on my hobbies (primarily, philately). What now? Was being idle ever a reason to be stressed out?
While I can't wait for work to start, my special someone has already officially joined the rat race. Complaining to each other about our daily boredom, we both thought he was the lucky one to be the first to escape it. A week down the line opinions have changed. I am being advised to make the most of my freedom over the next 2 weeks. And here I was thinking I was going to die because of an empty life.
Reading is one thing, though, that still catches my interest. I have stayed up nights to finish a book. Sometimes, having succumbed to exhaustion (doing nothing the whole day oddly leaves you very tired at night!) I have fallen asleep early only to wake up mid way to get back to my book. What I read varies depending on what I laid eyes on first. As is obvious, I read a variety of literature ranging from intellectual to plain trashy (MBs are a tad too trashy for my liking though). A snapshot of what I've read lately should explain this better.
I have been pulling my hair out ever since I got back home from L. The first couple of weeks were refreshing. Waking up late, no reports to write, no exams or quizzes coming up. But I missed the excitement that I had left behind. Everyday was a reminder that my student life is over. Everyone keeps reminding me how this time should be cherished because it will never come back. Why then am I at the end of my road? I have nothing to do. I've met up with friends, have spent time with my family, have watched a zillion movies and tv serials, have caught up on my hobbies (primarily, philately). What now? Was being idle ever a reason to be stressed out?
While I can't wait for work to start, my special someone has already officially joined the rat race. Complaining to each other about our daily boredom, we both thought he was the lucky one to be the first to escape it. A week down the line opinions have changed. I am being advised to make the most of my freedom over the next 2 weeks. And here I was thinking I was going to die because of an empty life.
Reading is one thing, though, that still catches my interest. I have stayed up nights to finish a book. Sometimes, having succumbed to exhaustion (doing nothing the whole day oddly leaves you very tired at night!) I have fallen asleep early only to wake up mid way to get back to my book. What I read varies depending on what I laid eyes on first. As is obvious, I read a variety of literature ranging from intellectual to plain trashy (MBs are a tad too trashy for my liking though). A snapshot of what I've read lately should explain this better.
I haven't read the entire collection yet. Getting used to the 1st book was interesting. But it's a short one, so sailing through it isn't much of a problem. But stopping there leaves you wanting more. Personally, I'm not a fan of science fiction. So I've decided to give a gap between each book of this "trilogy". I'm reading other books in between. So, till now I've completed the 1st two. Can't wait to start on the 3rd.
This one's a laugh. I'm still wondering how the author got away with a book like this. The royal family has been ripped apart in this novel. While a disclaimer in the beginning mentions how the names are "purely coincidental", a few chapters into the book will confirm otherwise. A nice take on England and it's most talked about family. An entertainer on a hot summer day.
This was a very very interesting read. Simple language with large font made it seem like something a primary scholl child would read. The award mentioned on the cover confirmed my doubts. But the author has actually written the book through the eyes of a child siffering from autism. An eye opener, I ended up doing a search on the illness.
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