Of culture, snobbery, pseudo intellect and other such like.

This was too interesting to not share...

Dear Dr. Kierkegaard,

All my life I’ve been a successful pseudo-intellectual, sprinkling quotations from Kafka, Epictetus and Derrida into my conversations, impressing dates and making my friends feel mentally inferior. But over the last few years, it’s stopped working. People just look at me blankly. My artificially inflated self-esteem is on the wane. What happened?

Existential in Exeter

Dear Existential,

It pains me to see so many people being pseudo-intellectual in the wrong way. It desecrates the memory of the great poseurs of the past. And it is all the more frustrating because your error is so simple and yet so fundamental.

You have failed to keep pace with the current code of intellectual one-upsmanship. You have failed to appreciate that over the past few years, there has been a tectonic shift in the basis of good taste.

You must remember that there have been three epochs of intellectual affectation. The first, lasting from approximately 1400 to 1965, was the great age of snobbery. Cultural artifacts existed in a hierarchy, with opera and fine art at the top, and stripping at the bottom. The social climbing pseud merely had to familiarize himself with the forms at the top of the hierarchy and febrile acolytes would perch at his feet.

In 1960, for example, he merely had to follow the code of high modernism. He would master some impenetrably difficult work of art from T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound and then brood contemplatively at parties about Lionel Trilling’s misinterpretation of it. A successful date might consist of going to a reading of “The Waste Land,” contemplating the hollowness of the human condition and then going home to drink Russian vodka and suck on the gas pipe.

This code died sometime in the late 1960s and was replaced by the code of the Higher Eclectica. The old hierarchy of the arts was dismissed as hopelessly reactionary. Instead, any cultural artifact produced by a member of a colonially oppressed out-group was deemed artistically and intellectually superior.

During this period, status rewards went to the ostentatious cultural omnivores — those who could publicly savor an infinite range of historically hegemonized cultural products. It was necessary to have a record collection that contained “a little bit of everything” (except heavy metal): bluegrass, rap, world music, salsa and Gregorian chant. It was useful to decorate one’s living room with African or Thai religious totems — any religion so long as it was one you could not conceivably believe in.

But on or about June 29, 2007, human character changed. That, of course, was the release date of the first iPhone.

On that date, media displaced culture. As commenters on The American Scene blog have pointed out, the means of transmission replaced the content of culture as the center of historical excitement and as the marker of social status.

Now the global thought-leader is defined less by what culture he enjoys than by the smartphone, social bookmarking site, social network and e-mail provider he uses to store and transmit it. (In this era, MySpace is the new leisure suit and an AOL e-mail address is a scarlet letter of techno-shame.)

Today, Kindle can change the world, but nobody expects much from a mere novel. The brain overshadows the mind. Design overshadows art.

This transition has produced some new status rules. In the first place, prestige has shifted from the producer of art to the aggregator and the appraiser. Inventors, artists and writers come and go, but buzz is forever. Maximum status goes to the Gladwellian heroes who occupy the convergence points of the Internet infosystem — Web sites like Pitchfork for music, Gizmodo for gadgets, Bookforum for ideas, etc.

These tastemakers surf the obscure niches of the culture market bringing back fashion-forward nuggets of coolness for their throngs of grateful disciples.

Second, in order to cement your status in the cultural elite, you want to be already sick of everything no one else has even heard of.

When you first come across some obscure cultural artifact — an unknown indie band, organic skate sneakers or wireless headphones from Finland — you will want to erupt with ecstatic enthusiasm. This will highlight the importance of your cultural discovery, the fineness of your discerning taste, and your early adopter insiderness for having found it before anyone else.

Then, a few weeks later, after the object is slightly better known, you will dismiss all the hype with a gesture of putrid disgust. This will demonstrate your lofty superiority to the sluggish masses. It will show how far ahead of the crowd you are and how distantly you have already ventured into the future.

If you can do this, becoming not only an early adopter, but an early discarder, you will realize greater status rewards than you ever imagined. Remember, cultural epochs come and go, but one-upsmanship is forever.

~from New York Times op-ed Columnist David Brooks - Lord of the Memes

Seaside

The waves come running to you,
happy to see you.
Eager to present you with a gift they dug up,
from the bottom of the seabed.
They come again and again,
in an attempt to appease.
The wind tugs,
like and impatient child,
at your hair, your clothes.
Wanting something,
not quite sure what.
The sticky feeling of salty air,
the burning sunshine.
Warm sand thats intrusive,
and likes the hide in unlikely places.

Sea gulls in mid air,
frozen still in their attempts to fly.
Lazy gulls that fly but dont flap,
come close,
looking out beadily for crumbs.
Static gulls, posing for perfect photos,
suspended mid-gust.

Children with spades and buckets, digging.
Building castles, being taught to write names in sand.
Babies toddling around, dropping and getting up unhurt,
wading into water and returning with soggy nappies.
Old people with books, hats and suncream,
young people with music and fashionable swimgear.

Endless white sand and green water,
long lazy walks,
with sand between your toes,
and sea shelss in your hand,
eyes scrunched up against the sand,
hair messed with the wind,
and a smile...

North meets South

Had some people over for dinner, colleagues of the Man. I always think of Indians as one large homogenous group...the differences owing to the directions of our origin apart, we are not too different..or so I would like to think.
Well, apparently not!
For starters there is the presumption that anyone with a lighter skin colour is either part foreign. But if you are from Southern India..fair skin, plus smooth hindi = Punjabi. And I always clench my teeth and highlight the fact that there are more states north of Punjab that exist..hmm..no one ever thinks of Kashmir unless voting is around the corner I guess.

The next thing is the language barrier, Hindi is the national language..right or wrong..but most people dont speak it, people in question here were from Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, they spoke good English with a different accent, but Hindi conversation between us (incl the Man) was met with blank looks. And I say..come on..something..anything..you must have seen some Hindi film..no? no! No.

The approach to food was wary, chicken curry, chola, aloo, and cabbage with peas, all made indian style were reluctantly tested. My food is not mild in terms of spice, but it turned out without pepper corns, food is not categorised as hot, which is typical of 'North Indian' food..is it really!! Apart from the chicken nothing else was eaten..maaaaybe it was alien to the taste buds. But suddenly I was very aware of the fact that I am NORTH Indian. Hmmm!! My curiousity and fondness for food means I am very happy (and well acquainted with all things South Indian) also gujarati bearing in mind London is full of all kinds of Indian food..and I have travelled a fair amount in India. Thus this reaction towards my food..was hmm..surprising. I had made some well known dishes..Aloo is universally eaten!! Even the yoghurt was rejected for being too thick!!

Apart from the apparent, there was a distinct difference in reaction..to conversation, to thinking, to behaving..including sitting on a sofa, carrying on a conversation. One person decided to sit ramrod straight and stare, whilst the other went on giggling..make me quite confused really..as to what to do. Their opinion about my house was 'lovely' but why do only 2 of you live in such a large house..hmm? Understandable I would say. Puzzling reaction though!

Being in London and not being curious about everything around you..specially the well known, thanks to Bollywood, landmarks..well you HAVE to see them..but nope. They had not seen them and were not keen to either. Most people would think..financial restriction to spending a large amount of money causes prevention to seeing places. Hmm..not true really..its not cheap, but it aint stupendous amounts of money either. It seemed to be a lack of curiousity..and I am sitting on judgement..forgive me. But these people are paid decently.

Initially uncomfortable, then strange, turning to curious and then just plain confused happened over a couple of hours to me. Am I too North Indian or have I just not met too many different people from other parts of my country.

iPhone 3G = Cool

Ok so I am not too good at finding phones with contracts. I have had a long strange equation with most of my phones I guess as long as I have one which catches some network and has a long enough battery life I am happy.

The good old Blackberry had stopped working as well as it did before..and before I knew it, it was time to upgrade. Being married to a geek means any phone I liked aesthetically was pooh-poohed, any phone I thought was smart was not good enough for him, and ofcourse I should never buy 'first generation' technology. So I sat with my Blackberry..waiting for a nicer newer phone..hmm...I was told all about the Google phone which shall some day arrive..but now..I have gone ahead and got myself the iPhone 3G. the idea of having music/video and internet on a good looking (though slightly large) phone was appealing. The fact that the O2 contract here was the best deal iPhone is offering was mentioned by Pushkar and the idea kind of stuck on from there. However I refused to stand in long queues on 11th July when the phone was released..after much media hype, I am not going to scream for my handset, I shall not be one of those people on TV who were camping outside the phone shops, standing and standing and then watch them run out of phones. I would do that for a new Harry Potter..but for a phone..uhh..NOPE! So I ordered it and sat and waited for 48 hours.

Meanwhile the Apple fan husband decided to go hunting online for reported faults and glitches in the new phone. Looked for discussions and conversations..could not find any realistic ones..so I was told..there are no reported problems..as people have not got the phone yet...O2 has run out of handsets, as have CarphoneWarehouse..so..By twisted logic..there are no problems, coz there are no phones, and as there are no phones, dont be surprised if yours does not arrive tomorrow. Be prepared to battle O2 to get your hands on one. hmmm!!

And I waited..as promised..its here..dot on time. In well designed packaging...which I shall take photographs of to use for my teaching..small, well shaped, tiny manual, smart box, little text, straight forward graphics, minimal use of paper and packaging..and ofcourse all recyclable! Now I need to avoid using the Man's Mac..as his iTunes library shall get messed..so now I need to buy a MacBook - Air to complete to cool look :)

Guess who is going to be busy all day reading manuals and downloading, uploading and importing? Guess who is going to hurry back home from work..to make sure the wife does not 'mess up' the phone or his lovely computer!!

No Real Reason

After having known hectic schedules, constant chasing of my own tail, being a headless chicken, I am in a period of forced rest. Yes I am on holiday and have little to do..which means the little that I need to do also does not get done. Which means the little piles into lots and then inertia strikes. Making it impossible for me to actually do ANYTHING.
Not needing to get out of the house, translates into not needing to dress up, which now means I need some more track pants! The fact that the British summer is not really here, and from the looks of it, wont really get here either, I see no reason of getting out in the cold and wet outside.
Which leaves me at home, with the internet and TV and a LOAD of books for company. Ideal situation some would say. After seeing some people struggling to cope with 24 hours in a day..I find myself lucky..to have time, sleep, books and nothing much else to worry about. I know it will be shortlived..and so I need to enjoy this space and time..I might not get it back!
However the feeling of being 'useless' is not easy to shake off, it multiplies when the husband comes home, tired, hungry, cold and wet..and yours truly has just finished watching The Simpsons with yet another cup of tea!

Nothings sweet about me

I seem to be unable to stop..I keep singing the chorus of this song..well have been doing it since Saturday morning..I am starting to get to myself!!

This is Gabriella Cilmi 'Sweet About Me'

Ohh watching me, hanging by a string this time.
Don't easily, the climax of the perfect life.
Ohh watching me, hanging by a string this time.
Don't easily, smile worth a hundred lies.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, tell you something that I've found, that the worlds a better place when it's upside down boy.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, when your playing with desire, don't come running to my place when it burns like fire boy. Chorus:

Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh

Blue, blue, blue, waves they crash as time goes by, so hard to catch. Too, too smooth, ain't all that, why don't you ride my side of the tracks.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, tell you something that I've found, that the worlds a better place when it's upside down boy.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, when your playing with desire, don't come running to my place when it burns like fire boy.

Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh

Stumbled upon James Frey

Yup..I picked it up, after seeing someone look completely absorbed in it on the tube. Okay I am not exactly picking it up while its hot. But I have spent the best part of the weekend stuck inside 'A Million Little Pieces'

Its a serious, dark, well told tale of an Alcoholic, a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
I did not know the Queen of TV and pretty much anything else of any consequence in the US..Oprah herself has been involved in the huge debate that surrounds this book. Apparently its not all non-fiction and the author, James Frey, has been asked to apologize to the public.

I did not know about the debate, I have noticed the book in various locations in book shops and also on some charts sometime ago. So while shopping for groceries I picked up 'A million little pieces'. I must say, I do not care about the debate too much - the book is great, it asks to be read at one sitting! Its straight forward, graphic, in places disgusting, very realistic and cynical, some interesting philosophy in places. Now I shall have to pick it's sequel!! Read it. I kept thinking that I need to go back to prison and read bits of it to my students..but I cant..I dont work there anymore..perhaps one of my ex colleagues can do that. I used to teach drug addicts gone cold turkey..and some of what I am reading in Frey's book recalls conversations I have had in prison with people.

'Her' Photos...

The ship I wrote about..Sarah her name was...here are the pictures..
The first ofcourse is the colours of the flag..British. The second shows how long she is..all the way to the small tall chimney like thing in the front (and we are 1/3 away from the back end of the ship). The next one is the exhaust pipe..which is tough to show in context..lets see..the two on the side are for the generators and the big one is for the engine..lets not even start talking about carbon footprint for Sarah:) The last one is of the cranes that are used to load and unload the ships at the port.

Mobile but unplanned

I forgot my phone at home yesterday. I knew I had and it was too late to get home and then get to work without being really late for work. So I just went ahead and left home without my phone...for perhaps the first time!

It did make me think. Apart from keeping in touch with people constantly and being available all the time for a conversation..mobile phones also make us less disciplined. How many times have you actually called someone to say..yes I am about to reach this place, or called to ask where they are? How many times have you called to confirm things and change things at the last minute. Ask questions which came to you after the meeting finished. Called to say I am standing here under this big tree with orange flowers.

What used to be planned..time, place, space and conversation..is now a free flowing list of 24x7 questions. What used to be the occasional long call to be made to catch up is now more frequent text messages.

Would you be lost without your phone? Would you feel incomplete and insecure without it?

I did for about 10 mins..and then it was almost liberating to know..I dont need to answer any calls at any time. It wont be my phone that bleeps in a meeting. I dont know what time I shall get home but thats ok. Na-ice.

Its a She

Output of engine - 55,980 BHP @ 94 RPM
Length - 300 mts
Fuel capacity - 6645.7 Metric Tons
Speed - 24 knots

She needed to switch off her engines and wait quietly for the Tug boats to pull her in. She needed them to help her park at the port. Her engine being too powerful to be used inside a dock.

This was a huge cargo ship I was on at Felixstowe. She had all of 12 floors. She was quite old but she was beyond my expectations. I thought Titanic, boats, ships etc..same thing. I expected some amount of movement of the ship as it rested on water. But instead I went inside and it did not rock. At all. The captain's floor which was just below the bridge (cockpit equivalent) was like a rather large apartment, complete with a bar, pots of coriander growing on the windowsills, a laptop with music playing.

I was shown maps, radars, ship paths, sea depths, routes to avoid, maps in different languages, sat nav systems, auto pilot controls, the engine room..the list went on.

I was taken aback by the sheer size of the thing. Having grown up miles away from any water body I am not familiar with ships of any sort. What struck me though was the fact that the engineers, the captain and pretty much everyone on board called it a 'She' very affectionately, but definitely a she. When questioned I was given the amused but will-not-tell-look by one and all. The captain later said its on old debate..aircrafts, ships etc..they are all female for some reason. The tug boats however..were not female..they were coming to get her, and help her park, they were strong and she needed them. hmmm.

I sat there thinking, if the ship could tell stories of its travel, it would last forever..and if 'it' was a 'she' indeed..I would love to hear them. What would it be like to be on sea, for 3-4 months at a stretch, no land, no docking, just sea, wind, sky and the sound of the massive engines!

Stay at Home?

Recently had one of those discussions with the Man about young people not wanting to live with their parents after they finish their education, which started as a discussion and concluded with a 'end-of' statement.

A lot of people in UK and Europe expect their 18 year olds to move out and get on with their own lives as soon as they turn 18. Infact retirement plans are often made on the basis that there will be no children in the house by a certain date and then the parents can get back to leading their own lives. Which sounded strange to me the first time I heard it..but now I guess I am used to the concept.

A long time ago I did contemplate heading back to Delhi for good, however having stayed away from home for a longish period, I was not too keen to go back home and live with the house 'rules'. I do love my folks and everything..and I dont think it needs explaining, but I also at the same time think that asking my folks to change how they do things to suit me would not be fair. I would be working full time, and coming home to my family..nothing wrong with that he says. No there is nothing wrong, but I would rather have a place of my own..nearby maybe, but space of my own..to come back to. This case was presented to Him, who says, whats different, you stay at home. Your folks are friendly people I am sure they wont mind your socialising..and coming home at odd hours.

But I dont think its quite the same thing. There are nights when we sit and chat and eat and drink till late with our friends, when someone eventually grabs the couch to pass the night, friends who drop by with wine and then stay for the night, friends who drop in at odd hours to check if you are free to watch a film etc, impromptu plans made for the evening and weekends, lunches and dinners. Now this all does happen, when you are single (probably), have just started working and earning a decent enough amount to afford a social life, and have other people like yourself as friends...chances are you lead a somewhat similar life.

The life before this was full of education and parents and rules and targets and interviews and exams, the life after this will be probably married or with a significant other, with a social life of a different kind, and perhaps later you shall socialise with your insomniac child and a bottle of milk! Things change. People need space to get to terms with their changing lives. Ofcourse if there is an option of getting space to begin with.

So, coming back to staying at home. My mother always thought that until the date I marry, I shall stay with her, find a job in Delhi, stay at home and post marriage live with the husband, I dont think this thinking would surprise too many Indian parents. Its the done thing. However in my case, this event did not occur. I moved out to study and work and have not gone back, have got married as well..so chances are slim I would stay with her.

I think I might have sounded a bit miffed, because the conversation we were having reached the statement point, where in He says, ' My kids will damn well stay at home, no need to go anywhere, if you are on holiday you are at home!' end-of.

But it is hard to explain, when you step away from home, you grow the innate ability to watch your own back, to understand budgets and finance, to see friend from foe, to stumble and fall, get up without assistance and get going, you learn to keep things to yourself which might worry the people back home, you see the value of home and family, you form your own small quasi-family of friends, you learn and you then set up a style of life/living/thinking/behaving which is uniquely you, adapted and adopted from your family in parts perhaps, but tailor made by you to suit you perfectly. And this..(nameless) state of existence and living is what you grow into and start to like..which when you move back home..does not quite fit/sit perfectly with what your parents (state of existence) maybe.

After being away from home for long, it is nice or rather lovely to be back for a while on holiday or just for a bit, but after some time, I start to miss my own space, my own existence in what I tend to call 'My house' and I like coming back to it.

So needing space, away from home is nothing to do with what you think or feel for your parents, but more about how you have changed and grown into. To understand the change, accept it and live with it happily without making others change for you. The bottom line being..you know..home with your parents is always there, its back up...they will always welcome you home, you can always head back..but its ok to need your own place and space.

Of distant thoughts, time and other such like

The mind has a mind of its own, time passes like a silent visitor late at night, not making a sound, but striking the realisation bell that something has brushed past and gone. It will not stay even is asked.

There is sound, rustling at the back..of someone smiling and then gradually laughing silently. There are voices that can be heard whispering and nodding in agreement.

And then there is the loud noise of heartbeats, thudding inside. The assurance that something is alive inside and perhaps trying to get out by being persistent. It perseveres despite being ignored.

Attempt at silencing all thoughts, all feelings and trying to stop time does not work. Time afterall measures all that has gone and forecasts all that will come. Like a log, of what happens, each moment, each day..for the rest of life and even after. Its the only constant.

Summer Breeze - Isley Brothers...

See the curtains hanging in the window
In the evening on a Friday night
A little light a-shining through the window
Lets me know everything's alright

Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind

See the paper lying on the sidewalk
A little music from the house next door
So I walk on up to the door step
Through the screen and across the floor

Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
When I come home from a hard days work
And you're waiting there, not a care in the world

See the smile a-waiting in the kitchen
Food cooking and the plates for two
Feel the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through

Cancer - The Thief

Last year I lost a very dear member of my family to this awful disease. It took time to get over it yet I missed him. He was stolen by cancer. I missed him when I returned to India, and I missed him at my wedding, I wish...there was a lot I wished at that time, and I still do.

Today the thief is back, in another part of another body of yet another family member. She is battling it in surgery today and it does not look good right now. A lot of placating techonlogical jargon has been given, all the stuff about 'technology and new century and best surgeons' has been spoken. People donate to the Cancer Research Fund and Charities..and have been for a long time..has the technology changed and evolved..? Should I believe that? I did, last year, but did it work. Na. And right now, I just dont know. Dont know what to think or believe.

I do not know because I heard these words not so long ago. About the strength of the spirit, and the support that family gives, and the pray and it will work, the trust in God..loads of things were said. None worked.

So where do I stand? Between beleiving in God and the brilliance of Doctors.

The two people I am talking about..were/are the most highly spirited people in the family. The dynamic ones, the ones who made you laugh, made you think, made you crib and made you realise that they are tough nuts to crack. And guess who they met..Cancer.

I do not know if I should give praying another shot. I do not know if crossing my fingers and hoping for the best will work. Is there any point I wonder...this disease seems to win most battles it gets into eventually. Should I block it out of my head, is it possible? Should I try not to worry. Should I take one step at a time, should I wait and see..is there any point?

Am not making much sense to myself right now. Its deeply upsetting, unsettling and depressing, frustrating even..to have a problem and know it is not solvable, not in your control, and there is nothing I can do to change that.

Daddy!

This little girl saw her father dress in a suit and head to work everyday. She waved good bye to her Daddy at the door and welcomed him home when he came back. During the day her mother would take her to toddler groups, parks, play grounds and around shops.

One day the mother decided take the little one along and meet her husband for lunch near his office, which was incidentally in the financial hub of the city.
Little child gazes in wonder at the peak lunch hour rush of busy suit clad men, never has she seen so many men, and that too in suits, and says,
"Look ma, so many daddies!"

This little child is my now-not-so-little cousin who now works in the financial sector herself...

Differ

Random walk through a standard British High street shopping complex. Visible are the many children who are out. The sun is high and thereby a lot more people are outside their homes. This is the place with next, Oasis, HMV, M&S, Clarks, Primark, Boots, River Island, Debenhams, Top Shop...etc etc..

I see: an English Couple..who I think were in the Chav category. Her in a tight fitting low cut top, and a short denim skirt, loads of makeup, hair scraped tight against her skull, about 4 ear piercings and what looked like too much fake gold. Him in a hooded sleeveless Tshirt, jeans slung low and bright red sneakers. They had a child of about 4 sitting in a push chair. Above his head with animated faces I saw him telling her how the new toy works. The toy in question was a big black plastic gun which was had been bought by him for their little one. The conversation was animated in appearance and the child looked quite involved in the whole thing.


Slighly further on I see: An Asian couple. The standard jeans and T shirt with white sneakers for both. Standing with their 4-ish year old. The child was staring at distant nothing while the parents above his head were busy discussing the new book they had bought for the little one. A book on how to improve handwriting in 4-7 year olds. It was a serious looking discussion with much frowning, shaking of the head in the horizontal 8 figure, gesticulation and finally nodding. The child did not look interested or excited in the least. He was strapped into his pushchair.




What struck me was the seriousness of the second conversation. What made me notice the two cases was the fact that these 2 couples were standing only a few feet away from one another. I do not understand the promotion of guns as toys. Do 'boys' really need them to turn into real 'men'? But what I do not get either was the need to push your child into perfect handwriting..specially with the schools on a break and the summer holiday for schools not far off.

Did I notice them because of the colour of their skin and difference in their activities based on stereotypical image of race? - perhaps yes. What made me write this was because the situation was one which appeared black and white to start with and turned out to be completely grey when analyzed.

Dr Morpheus...

I passed. The viva was tough, I got asked the generic questions I expected..but also unexpcted detailed, specific questions..between two people..they went on firing question after question, with no break..it was not fun!
But they concluded..I should get the Doctorate..and I did.
I have some corrections to do..which do not worry me..we all (at PhD level) get them. So yup...I am done. Its been a roller coaster journey..with me hanging on to the need to finish..the reason to finish. Loads of times I did feel the PhD was taking over my life..it did...but life goes on..as one wise friend of mine remarked...you cant put your life on hold and get into 4 years of research..truth!!

Challenges..personal, financial, emotional...they all came. But with two supervisors..one to cajol, encourage and comfort me, and one who kicked my arse constantly..it got done.

The Man gets a special mention..for making tea, getting me everything from paper, to post-its and asprins. From telling me I will finish, I better finish..and ofcourse..the last one before the viva..if you dont pass..we buy a one way ticket to India..and stay there...no pressure then huh?

Family and friends..who encouraged, used negative psychology on me..pestered me, asked me..pestered me..told me things like..'I am growing old watching you study', 'now everyone knows you are doing it..you better finish it', to saying..'ofcourse you shall do it, ofcourse you shall pass..to doubt is silly, but we shall pray for you anyways'..

Thanks one and all.

But..mum gets the last word..'I never thought YOU would study..you would walk around school, cut classes at Univ, scrape past in Physics, fail miserably with single figure marks(out of 100) at Maths..get bored and get told off for staring out of the classroom. You wanted to not graduate but do a fine art course..I am happy and surprised that you have managed to climb up the furthest on the education ladder..there is nothing beyond this..I am proud and stand corrected in my judgment of what children are capable of..one never does know'...

Thanks Ma.

Pass or Fail

Why do I need to think about this...for the past few weeks I have been worrying about defending my thesis. The problem in UK being..there are no assurances of a pass, you have to defend a thesis completely and competently..else..a FAIL is a possible..very possible option. I was told only 40% of UK researchers who start a PhD complete it, the rest drop out. I was also told that only 30% of that 40% pass the viva :) SUCH FUN!!

Now I am sitting and earnestly wishing I had rewritten some parts, used a lot more than the 327 books I read..but hey..I think its too late.

So I shall crack on with preparing for any question in or outside the book. Apparently a PhD is given to those who:
- make a useful and original contribution to a field of knowledge
- who show expertise in the area they are working in
- should know all work done previously in the field at all levels
- should be able to demonstrate an in-depth knowledge of the field
- should have used academically acceptable sources and methods of work
- should have in thesis presented a coherent and well sustained argument about the work

..and the list..goes on..

Problem being..you do not get marks - its a pass or a fail. hmmm! yup!! Thats the way it is..

I shall get back to my books!

PATIENCE

yes..i have a lot to say..and no i do not have the time. does not mean I am off writing...or am too busy. It just means I am doing something which is absolutely essential to my happiness.

Shall be back in 4 days!

Patience is all I ask for!

Thought Variation

Too many thoughts went through my mind as usual while I was in India. These start here in a random chain-
- There are way too many men in Delhi..you hardly see women. I saw fat men, thin men, men with beards, men on bikes, men in cars, men in buses, men on carts, bald men, long haired men, men with combs in their back pockets, men with one long finger nail, men picking their noses, men itching and scratching, men peeing on walls, men spitting on roads, men hanging out of buses, men crossing roads, men in auto rickshaws, men selling stuff, men driving buses, men filling fuel. There were just too many men. I rarely saw women, next time you are in Delhi...keep a 10 min track and see how many women you can spot. Sex ratio in Delhi seems to be twisted.
- Malls seem to be competing for space and attention with fly overs. Delhi was previously a city under construction, fly overs were being made everywhere. Now malls are being made everywhere. I must say flyovers do make life easy - they could improve sign posting to prevent people backing up on one way, high speed lanes. Good roads mean more space to speed and I am not sure if its a good thing. Recently lost a lovely 21 year old girl I knew to a high speed car crash in Delhi - speeds are high!!! Lane driving in something people laugh at, drunk driving is cool, people protest but I did not notice anything being done.
- Malls seem to be full all the time. Gone are the days when one would shop before a festival..now people just shop. Which is great, there is never a dull moment in malls. People demand better products and the products appear - well designed, well presented, well priced, often badly packaged..but hey I aint complaining. Products fly off the shelves as does the food. Everywhere I turned I saw people eating - chat, samosa, chicken tikka, chola bhatura, pakoras, momos, chowmein, kala khatta, dosa, idli, pizza, vada, lasagna, pasta, ice cream, kulfi, freshly washed and sliced coconuts..its eat time. I must say though I did not see any FAT people.
- The consumer spending is amazingly high. Little surprise thus happened when I tentatively mentioned the American economy sliding and the British one just about hanging on..and what this will translate to in India. I was told to shut up and stop being a negative NRI and see how 'strong and robust' the Indian economy is and how it can 'live through anything'. So I did shut up. What pray do I know about economics, except that I read the warnings issued by the Reserve Bank of India in the Economic Times and other newspapers, and was foolish enough to believe it. I was also told to think about the 'media' that likes to scare people and thus not believe what I read.
- The magnolia trees in bloom in India made me smile. There were lavender colour trees as well. Also seen were bright red flowers in tall trees with no leaves. Spring had sprung in Delhi with daisies and pansies and lilies and jasmine and roses out in full bloom. The trees were green, though a bit dusty. It looked pretty and welcoming. However I did not see as many Gulmohar trees as I seem to remember seeing as a child. Where have all the Gulmohars gone?
- My travels included Delhi & Jammu only. Delhi was crazy with the number of people I was supposed to meet competing with the people who I wanted to meet who were competing with people I was told to meet, which all clashed with the shopping I wanted to do, shopping I needed to do and shopping I was told to do, which clashes with my standard must-go-to list of Delhi - Dilli Haat, Baba Kharak Singh Marg, walk the entire inner circle of CP, walk along Janpath to Cottage, GK 1 M Block Market & Hauz Khas village. I must say I managed to do everything...but could not get to spend enough time everywhere.
- I was fed, watered and welcomed home as usual. New member in the house is yet another Black cocker spaniel called Scooby who deserved a post of his own. Let me just say a name like Lucifer would suit him well. I spend much time playing with him and getting affectionate licks every 3 mins. I am told I am being missed by him, he sleeps by the door till 3 am these days..waiting for me. {Awwwww!!}
- At my in-laws home I was fed to within an inch of my life. I slept till 10 am each day and also a bit in the afternoon. I woke up to the morning breeze with undercurrents of rose. Roses that grow in the garden outside the window and are carried by the cool air through the open windows. I heard bird song each morning..it was quiet, idyllic and relaxing. Spent most of my time in Jammu talking..non stop. It was good fun.
- Met old relatives and great aunts of the husband. Which was nice yet strange, good job my little 5 yr old nephew was not there or he would have asked his standard question for old people,"Where do you keep your teeth?"
- Jammu is a nice place for a short break..nothing to do. Eat + Sleep. It also has amazingly small tiny alley ways and lanes which sell everything from Amartya Sen's books to Indian Kitsch! Glitzy clothes and garlands made of a notes..real notes, which I had always seen on TV but never up close..so in Jammu I went and felt this garland to see if it was made of actual currency..seems like it does. I now know how to mortify my brother (who is a total city slicker) when he gets married!! Jammu also enticed me with its river side palace which has a superbly located restaurant- service was poor but the location was good. I also saw the old secretariat which burnt down..lovely..amazingly beautiful building. [Shall post pictures soon I am assuming]
- I know no one in Jammu apart from my inlaws + my mobile phone does not work there..which means I got no phone calls and I had to meet / speak to no-one I knew :) I do not pick the home phone as I am new to the house, same reason why I dont answer the door bell...it was peaceful!
- Met cousins and friends..which is always good and comforting. Good to catch up specially since time was precious. As it always is in a short break. Managed to talk a lot, hence sleep was evaded. I now need a vacation to recover from this one on India.

T4.

T4 is the poorer cousin of T3 at Heathrow. All of 3 shops at the departures, one chemist - Boots, one coffee shop - Nero, and one book/ newsagent - WHSmith.

British Airways owns this terminal, and HSBC has selected it to be the target of all its adverts. And outside the airport terminal there is never ending construction work with a bold title on the scaffolding, 'BAA Working towards building an airport London could be proud of'. I say..wow! ooh! I see!

The thing is I can not see, the amount of tax we pay for this, and the amount of service I expect in return is obviously not matching. I do expect a pub/ restaurant of sorts, I do expect a decent set of shops, several ATMs, several phone booths, an internet cafe etc etc. Yes I know its departures only and all you need to do is check in bags and walk into the world of Duty Free! But many a times you get there and wait till check in opens, specially when you are catching connecting flights. There is no where to sit and wait, there is nothing! Pathetic! Not to mention people who wake up at an alarmingly early hour to meet and say good bye to loved ones..who have nowhere to sit and chat.

How come in Europe, they have a proper cafe culture even at airports, why do they have shops that sell more than newspapers and medicines at the airport. How come there are comfy seats to sit and wait on, even decent bars to have a quick drink with your amtes before you need to get into security and get out?
And last but not the least..it is an UGLY UGLY building..

And now they are testing out T5 for comfort etc..sigh!

Homelessness

Just when I had figured out which of my paintings goes on which wall..ding dong. Bell. Recorded delivery. Tenancy cut short, please move home.
So the search has to begin again. For another house. SIGH!
Bearing in mind how hard it was last time around..oh..I will not even bother writing. Depressed at the very thought.
These record my thoughts from the not so long ago house hunt
House and Home
Finicky Woman
Where do I begin

Just when I thought I shall go to India, chill, come back, study, give Viva, add the 'Dr' before my name! Now I have to pack, find house, unpack! oh Dear!

Mobile Phones and Me.

Ok..its officially time for me to get a new one. I have spent a year with the same phone and now I am due a free upgrade. The problem is...I hate looking for the right deal = Rental + Handset + Free Minutes + Texts + Network of my choice.

Needless to say my current network provider has been chasing me with their 'amazing deals' which are of course 'tailor made' and only for 'me'. These offers supposedly do not last beyond 48 hours and must be taken 'now'.
And it does not end there, I need to hear about how expensive the new handset is and how many phones are lost and stolen everyday in UK..and therefore I must buy insurance on the phone. The fact that I have never in the past 10 years lost one..makes no differebce.
I also have to hear about the 8GB memory, 5 mega pixel camera, slide phones, slip phones, QWERTY keyboards (that was easy to type!), Bluetooth, MP3 player, light weight phone, display size,...the list just goes on..and on and on...

Too many options are sometimes not nice. So far I have had many a Nokia, Sony Ericsson, Seimens, Motorola, Sagem, Samsung, NEC, Blackberry, LG. I grew up and out of Nokia..for some reason..flip phones aint my style, slide phones are just fiddly, qwerty keyboards make handsets huge. Grey colour phones are boring, black ones try too hard, chargers ofcourse have been designed to cause us customers as much pain as possible, fat ones do not fit easily into my dinky handbags, the very slim ones generally dont do much apart from looking thin(quite like their human counterparts), the huge screen ones get scratched easily, putting a phone in a sock is so NOT me..

So what do you want? was what the sales guy asked me.

Bearing in mind this little object shall go pretty much everywhere I go with me for the next year..it better be worth the effort..or buying and carrying..

So, what DO I want..hmm..let me think, a phone which rings, talks to my computer, plays music, has a good battery life because I talk a lot, and is light and small. And it should not cost anything..I want it free, and I want it delivered by tomorrow morning.

The options I have been given are..Blackberry 8310, (the Pearl has a s**t tracker ball..I am hoping this one is better). Sony Ericsson K860i (touch phone with a tracker wheel), HTC - MDA touch (looks good..but is it any good?) I do not want a Nokia..and I do not want the iPhone..its too big to be of any use to me with my microscopic size hands (its amazing the people who made the Air, also made the iPhone!!)....plus there is a monopoly of O2 over the phone, and it is locked to the network..and it still costs a lot!

Hmm...so here I am thinking about phones..when all I need is one that rings and does not need to be plugged to a wall each night! But guess what, I have been meaning to figure this one out since Jan end..and have I? Nope? why? Because unlike other things which I can decide about with my eyes closed and not regret..getting a phone..which you need to hold on to for a year..is hard! Oh I wish someone would decide, book it, get it and give it to me..I have started dreading this time of the year now..EVERY year I have had to face the trauma of upgrading my phone for free!!

I acting like a girl. I know. But I am.

India..here I come!

The tickets have been bought. And I am heading to Delhi once again on my annual pilgrimage to India.
To meet the loved ones, the not so loved but must-meet-its-rude-not-to ones, the adored ones, the not-so-little-anymore ones, dearest friends, relatives, in-laws, relatives of inlaws, those who came for the wedding but I did not get a chance to talk to (on account of attempts being made to be the coy, shy bride)..the list goes on.
India also means the annual emotional battery recharging that I need. The need to connect to base, or as my mother calls it, head office! I need to go back to head office, let my hair (or whats left of it) down, sleep, eat, talk, make friends with the new cocker spaniel pup in the house and of course do the inevitable shopping.

Now, this is the thing. When I first moved to UK in 2000, there were a 1000 things I did not get here which I dearly wanted..pickle, hajmola, aam papar, bombay mix chewra, masalas, cotton clothes, flat shoes. If it was not in style, it was not readily available. This is of course before I had access to Ikea and Primark! So I used to make a long list of things I wanted from India. And needless to say used to come back with overloaded suitcases! Now I live about 10 mins from an area where not only is there Indian food stuff of every kind, there are onions flown in from Bombay, thepla from Ahmedabad, Revari and Gajjak from Lucknow. Everything is available, easily and it does not cost an arm and a leg!
So when my mother asked me this morning what I want..I actually had nothing to say. Craft made bed covers and cushions, check. Rugs and Carpets, check. Bedcovers and duvet covers, check. Pressure cookers and karahi, check. Masala box with those miniscule round katoris for 6 masalas in one steel box, check. Yup..I can go on..and on..and on..and on and they are all available here. So what do I want from India?

And it works the other way round. When I used to leave from here at the start of this decade, there were requests for Body Shop body butter, Marks and Spencer clothes, comfortable high heels, Dior lipstick, chocolates and scotch whiskey. Now, all these are available more readily in India now and I dont need to lug them there anymore. Which means I am all out of gifts to buy. Ok some chocolates like Milka, Maltesers etc I have not seen in India yet. I have also not seen chocolates and biscuits for people with diabetes. I do not know about Laphroaig whisky or Glenmorangie..both of which are made in Scotland...so yes I shall carry my pack of chocolates and whiskey.

I always get caught up in last minute gift thinking. And then I also load myself at the airport. And once I am home, I unpack and hand out gifts, eat what I had ordered 48 hours ago and promptly go to sleep. That is just the way it has been for the past 7-8 years.

And so it begins..yet another trip to India. I have lost count of how many times I have been home in the past 8 years..3-4 times a year sometimes, sometimes less..enough to collect air miles and fly free to India..yes. I know I should get over the excitement which is borne not only out of travel..but the chance to be home. The last time I was home it was exactly a year ago..to get married..and that was good..but not what I would call fun. Had it been someone else's wedding I would have deployed that word. However I did not get the chance to relax and catch up with everyone. Now I shall make up for that.

Long distance travel + Heathrow Airport = Mental tiredness at the very thought.
Home + Mom + Dad + Siblings + Mad dog = Happy hand rubbing in glee thought, I am more than willing to fly 8hr 45min to Delhi..:) in a week then..I shall be there.

Possibility of both?

Of course he should bring me flowers on a whim.
He should whisk me away for a weekend to Paris.
He should also buy me things to wear..clothes, shoes, perfume, jewelery..
I want to be swept off my feet..politeness and door opening, and all that...
Precious is my middle name. I wear high heels.
I like floral prints.
Small and petite I am, I like it when people help me lift luggage to high racks.
Candlelit dinners, long drives at night.
Walking on a beach in moonlight,
and listening to the silence of the mountains.
I like holding hands and being told I am loved.
Yes I am a romantic.

But then..
I also do not want to be treated like I am made of porcelain,
Cleaning and cooking do not come as bonus skills with a uterus.
Vacuum cleaners and dishwashers are not gender specific.
I do not like being told what to wear.
The body I have is not all that I have, I would like appreciation of what resides in my head too.
I am not on object and do not like being treated like one.
I can drive, open doors, unlock phones, operate machines,
I also like technology and know how to work it.
the presence of breasts does not diminish my ability to use logic.
The love of high heels does not mean I cant outrun you.
I work hard, and play hard.
Scotch on the rocks and cappuccinos are equally favoured.
I am not a responsibility.
And no one owns me.

Is it possible to be a feminist and a romantic?

London

Shot by yours truly.

60 every year

I spent...

5 years = 60 months
Thousands of £££ on living expenses
On software, hardware, cameras,
dicta phones, batteries, paper,
phone calls, air tickets, fuel,
bus tickets, train tickets...
Many streams of tears
Many days filled with worry
Endless hours reading
And even more writing
Learned how to hide from things,
how to forget about things,
how to speak about things,
and find out about things.

A long journey of 5 years, and all I have is
300 pages. 60 every year.
All I know, and all I learned, packed,
in a linear fashion into an academic thesis.

But I am glad..its over,
and now I await my exam.

My Baby is being Born!

Oh dear! This is painful. No one told me I would be this nervous, so unprepared and so worried. I am worried about how it will go, if I shall get through it smoothly and one last chance to hold on to this thing that has been a part of my for the past 5 years!

The PhD ladies and gentlemen is about ready to be born. I am ready for a final colour print and 5 copies, glued and bound to be submitted for examination. And I am nervous. Yes I have presented papers, given lectures and published my work. Yes I have done over 7 drafts of it and can recite forward and backwards in my sleep. Its been the pain in my life. The never ending work of writing and re-writing. Of traveling to Kashmir and back, transcribing interviews, asking pointed questions, lying or sitting still contemplating. Worrying about the end results. Thinking about word limits and the use of subjective opinions, of reading lists and reference formatting. It has been one long painful process of regurgitating my thoughts into text. Writing a linear story of a circuitous route of research. Mind maps converted into chapters and text. That flows, in terms of structure and content.

And now I have been given the go-ahead by my mentor to submit it for examination. No more edits, nothing. Hand it in and let the baby be. The baby shall be up for examination sometime soon and I am so nervous. I am not worried, I just wonder if perhaps I could improve it in some other way, give it yet another once over. Edit and edit more. Make it more perfect.

Which is why its my baby. I wonder if people (who examine it) will understand it, look after it, care about what it says and understand the painful process it has been, this journey of birthing it. I worry if I can make it a better baby and if I have been as good as I could have been to it.

And once it is out of my hands, it shall be out there in the world, to be read, used by anyone who wants to know about Kashmir, women, crafts, post conflict reconstruction, Islam, NGOs. It shall no longer be research close to my heart. It shall be a baby on its own. And then I shall get tested on it!

I feel like saying Boo!hoo! and Yipee! clicking my heels together midair. I never thought this point would come, I have dreamed of finishing, I have felt like finishing it, quitting it, getting rid of it, not thinking about it, trying to ignore it. But no more! Life as I know it, shall be different from Wednesday onwards!

Of The Lord Of The Rings and V-Day

Last night was magical. Apart from Londoner's turning out looking lovely and smelling good. And roses available everywhere, the air, albeit cold, was fragrant!
Him and I went to see The Lord Of the Rings at the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane of Covent Garden. I have seen some musicals and quite a bit of theatre but nothing came close to magic of this one.
I sat there, completely enraptured!

The option for V-Day for me was a cryptic text message, 'Fantasy OR Hollywood'. I did not know what he was thinking but the surprise plan was to ask my opinion and then lead me on to see it! I chose fantasy. And oh boy, did it live up the expectations and a bit more.

The LOTR had magnificent sets, and thats a bit of an understatement! It initially made me look at it and think wow! I moved from being a spectator of the proceedings, aware of the people around me, the heads of the people in front of me, the sounds of people coughing, of crisps being eaten and the occasional mobile phone going off, as things moved on stage, I sort of fell into it. Enraptured, sucked into, speechless and absorbed to the exclusion of my surroundings. The interval made me come back to life and my surroundings.

The costumes were amazing as was the music. Sometime into the play, some Orcs made their way up into the audience and decided to breathe loudly around us and stare up close to our faces, scaring the life out of some, but making the make-believe even more real. They thumped around and snarled and shocked people, especially the children in the audience. It was really good! The Gigantic spider was unnervingly real as were the scenes of battle and the very fluid, slimy and creepy Gollum. Galadriel was ethereal and Gandalf had great delivery with a booming voice. The music of A.R.Rahman made itself known through some beats and use of musical instruments that are familiar to people who have heard his work.

The place was jam packed with families, couples and individuals. The whole thing was seamless.It was well worth a visit. And I was glad I was kept out of the mushy restaurants with hearts on the walls, and roses, and confetti and champagne and starry eyed people staring at each other over candle light. Valentine's day makes me sick with the amount of sweeti-ness that goes around. Him and I tend to run away from the crowds on the mushy day of the year. Whether it is to South Queensferry in Edinburgh, or to Lonavala I think we are expected to quit being mushy in a post marriage stage anyways! I am warned there shall be a day when if he brings me flowers I shall need to ask him - whats up?

Both sides now..

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Ive looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
Ive looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its cloud illusions I recall
I really dont know clouds at all

Moons and junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
Ive looked at love that way

But now its just another show
You leave em laughing when you go
And if you care, dont let them know
Dont give yourself away

Ive looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
Its loves illusions I recall
I really dont know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say I love you right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
Ive looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say Ive changed
Well somethings lost, but somethings gained
In living every day

Ive looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
Its life's illusions I recall
I really dont know life at all
Ive looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its life's illusions I recall
I really dont know life at all

~Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now

More from her here

Spaced-Out

Deja Vu happening.
Have been here before,
in a space where I seem to be free falling.
In a time vacuum where nothing moves normally.
Things only seem to float by,
gravity-less, in slow motion.
Time stands still,
and then passes in large chunks.
I stare, watch.

Things outside,
a glass wall outside.
a bubble.
Its Zorbing in slow motion.
Sights, without the sounds.

And the lyrics in my head go round and round,
on repeat

'In my head there is a greyhound station,
where I send my thoughts to far off destinations'
Death Cab for Cutie - Plans

US Embassy, London

Well big headed moi has been invited to lecture in Buffalo in the US. Not too sure if I am going, so I thought lets start at the visa end and see how the process works and which category I can apply under, costs etc.

Well to know anything about booking appointments at the US embassy London you need to call a 0903 number, this costs £1.30 per min + the costs of the network provider. Not only is there no other way to book an appointment apart from calling this number. This number once it rings will book you an appointment, take your details, and also a payment in advance for your Visa. Should you not get the Visa, they shall keep the money! So its the standard 131$ for the B-1 + about 60$ for the phone call!! And then maybe you shall get an appointment in time to get a flight..6-8 weeks min time, 3-6 months max time..and then also there might be a refusal at the end of it!!!

I mean hello? Do you want me to come? I will not bother with this process, the effort involved in applying for a US visa is not only too expensive but their approach is condescending and he dont-bother-to-come, we-dont-really-want-you-there attitude sucks. What if I dont have a phone from which I can make a call to this number. In which case the USELondon page says, ask your friends or family to make this call. They know this number is costly and most phones wont allow you to dial!! And then there is the non refundable fee!! Tch!

Other embassies for European nations also have these numbers, but you can book things online if needed, they will take longer but at least everyone should have access!!

I am sure someone should raise this as an issue to the Brit authorities, this is unfair trade, after all we are consumers/ customers, we are paying for a service, not a favour!! It makes my blood boil!

Too much I tell you! And when people ask me if I have been to the other side of the pond, I say NO! And I dont want to either, they recoil with shock. The No.1 nation, the freedom of America, its power, its glory..they dont attract you? I am asked.
Nay, says I, Nay. Nothing does! And this is without my even starting a rant about Bush!

Curse You!

Came across some research around the history of an ancient Chinese curse,

'For centuries the Chinese used an ancient curse: "May you live in interesting times!" It isn't a curse any more. It's a blessing. We're scientific and civilized. We've got so many rights and liberties and freedoms that one can yearn for chains for the sheer pleasure of busting them and shaking them off. Reckon life would be more livable if there were any chains left to bust.'
~Eric Frank Russell, April 1950.

This curse of living in interesting times should be read as living in 'turbulent' times, which acts as a curse for anyone who considered stability and constancy as a sign of prosperity. This is in line with Confucian thinking..where stability acts as a precursor to happiness, peace, wealth and well being.
This curse could be seen from varied perspective, depending on your personality type. Many a person would rather die than be in a stable, secure, uneventful environment. However there are those who have lived through years of turbulence and only wish for peace..it depends on what, where, how and who you are. Something to think about I guess...

This curse gets upgraded (as the person thats cursing gets increasingly agitated I suppose). It goes on to become:
* May you come to the attention of those in authority
and then worse still...
* May you find what you are looking for

Eerie, creepy, but there is some truth they hold. These people really did think out things in depth and use them right. I am glad mum's not Chinese or inclined to such thinking..such a curse from someone who knows you would (should) freak you out!

Kabul

As part of the work that I do and am involved with I have a deep interest in the women in Afghanistan, specially so Kabul. The stories of buzkashi and kite flying have been shown in popular culture..but I have been looking for more personal stories..I dont know why, but there is something about a nation in conflict, of rulers and dictators, beauty and cruelty, mountains and poppy fields..something stark, raw, wild yet beautiful.

I came across this poem (from which Khaled Hosseini found the title of his new book) - Its called - Kabul, by Saib-e-Tabrizi, a 17th century Persian poet.

Though somethings get lost in translation..i describes achingly well..the city that was, and his love for it..


Ah! How beautiful is Kabul encircled by her arid mountains
And Rose, of the trails of thorns she envies
Her gusts of powdered soil, slightly sting my eyes
But I love her, for knowing and loving are born of this same dust

My song exhalts her dazzling tulips
And at the beauty of her trees, I blush
How sparkling the water flows from Pul-I-Bastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!

Khizr chose the path to Kabul in order to reach Paradise
For her mountains brought him close to the delights of heaven
From the fort with sprawling walls, A Dragon of protection
Each stone is there more precious than the treasure of Shayagan

Every street of Kabul is enthralling to the eye
Through the bazaars, caravans of Egypt pass
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls

Her laughter of mornings has the gaiety of flowers
Her nights of darkness, the reflections of lustrous hair
Her melodious nightingales, with passion sing their songs
Ardent tunes, as leaves enflamed, cascading from their throats

And I, I sing in the gardens of Jahanara, of Sharbara
And even the trumpets of heaven envy their green pastures

London is a Kind Place

Moving on from having damaged my Medial Collateral Ligament..which means I walk with a stick, and shall have to for the next 6-8 weeks. So having sat on my backside for a long time to rest my knee just as I was told..I decided I could not take it anymore and so went out for the first time with my shiny new crutch. I have never used one before..and so it took a bit of time to get the hang of it. I am ok to walk, but a stair or a step is a bugger! And there are brand new aches and pains from using the crutch which has thrown my body out of alignment..and it HURTS!!

Anyhow..so I am getting out and about London for the first time with a crutch...
I take the London Public transport to the National Film Theater on London's Southbank. And I enter a whole new world. Not talking about the theater here...the crutch..people are SO VERY nice to you. I did not realize it. I am sure I am the same when I see someone with a walking stick/ wheelchair/ crutch. I did not see it coming at all.

On the tube, the ticket/Oyster check guy opened the wide gate for me so I would not struggle through the barriers, people stood behind me patiently, waiting for me to climb in and out of the train , they got up and offered me their seats one old man insisted I sit in his space. Someone held my elbow as I scrambled to get into the tube. On the escalator, people let me go first. Someone helped me get off it without falling over. When I went to the loo, people let me go first, held open doors. The serving staff at the Cafe came out from behind their counters to serve me, made me sit, got me my stuff while others stood patiently in the queue waiting to pay for what they had picked up. At the theater the security guy called the lift for me, let me sit on his chair while I waited for the husband to come and fetch me. When I got up, someone helped me with my coat and bag, yet another time someone held my things while I slowly sat down on my seat.

On my way to work, rush hour pushing came to a halt as I hobbled along. On the commute to another city to teach I was asked if I want a tea or a coffee and I paid someone to get me a hot drink from the buffet car, saving me the hassle of needing to walk in a high speed lurching train.
Smiles I got loads of smiles. Nice ones, sympathetic ones, I am sorry I did not see your stick ones :) it was nice.

I dont know why I am so surprised. I dont know if I should be. I mean the very same people push and shove and rush you when you have fully functioning limbs. The very same people go tutting when you hold up a queue. The very same people will make you wait for hours on your own without a nod or sign of support if you seem to be fit enough to take it.

I am happy there is some amount of kindness in these people who rush around London and seem careless and cold. I am glad to see politeness as well of standing patiently. I love the good hearts these people hide well within them. To help, without asking.

I am not sure if I would feel the same if this crutch was a permanent part of my life. I might, in that case, take this kindness as patronizing..But the point is. It is not patronizing at all. It shows that people can be kind, when needed.

Joint problems

And so it happened that we walked along the Southbank, along the Thames, past Westminster, past The London Eye, past the coffee shops, along the stretch of the river till we reached the Tower of London which most people think of as London Bridge..walked walked walked, ate some pastry, had some coffee, caught the tube, went to South Kensington, walked around Harrods, walked around Brompton Road, had more coffee and then went back to Oxford Circus, walked to Edgeware Road...ate kebabs..walked past Maroush and then got home.
I managed to twist and wrench my knee. It got swollen, now I can not walk without wincing..and need to see the Doctor to get a walking stick!

Life sucks! Or maybe its Old Age!

When 3 is a crowd.

Marriage is a strange institution, those in will testify to it testing their limits and reaching points where you wonder why you did this to yourself, willingly and happily. Those who are married however will also tell you that there is a lot of good in it which is hard to explain and give examples of. Often you would find the Smug Married Couples egging on and fixing up dates for their single friends. Yes it has its downs and sad times, rough times and 'wonder why' and 'wish I had not' times but then nothing in life is ever smooth sailing anyways. You would disagree with your parents, siblings, colleagues, friends..and in the same queue is the spouse as well..expecting any different would be silly I would think. Marriages are strange but I still believe in the institution, why, is another post.

It comes to a point sometimes when marriages do not work out and then the legal systems of justice are sought to sometimes willingly, sometimes reluctantly, more than often painfully hand out the respite needed for a couple to part ways- divorce. Not easy, not fun, but currently becoming increasingly common. I am sure you know someone or of someone fairly close who has been divorced, its not uncommon and its not taboo anymore. Okay most people would rather not talk about it but that does not mean its not an increasingly common phenomenon in our society. This established lets move on...

On to the mid way point. The point where there are 3 in a marriage. Where one person deems it ok to seek comfort, warmth, love and solace elsewhere due to unhappiness in their marriage. Where one party is finding comfort knowing the marriage is not working and thus moving on. But is it really moving on? Are affairs justified in this day of easy divorce? I am sure there are many kinds of affairs, some to pass time, some to elevate boredom, some to test the greener grass, ego boosting affairs, what was i thinking affairs, i was lured into it affairs. But the ones which are I-was-unhappy-therefore does not make sense.

It is increasingly easy to dupe and lie as we all(men and women) work now, we have a life, friends, meetings, team building session, break away sessions, away days at work, the gym, the driving instructor, the IT guy, the interns etc etc..the list is endless. We meet people of all sorts, sit judgment on some, make friends with others, quite like somethings in someone, dislike others..social interaction on a daily basis with strangers is a part of our lives. We can choose to do what we want, think what we like, and come home..back to the person we married. The ability to meet someone new is constant. A problem at home might send you running in the direction of someone who looks remotely decent to you. Might be the wrong person..but to someone its escape..from the problems at home.

I know I am no one to sit judgement on someone else's life and decisions, but if a marriage has died, and you want to move on, would it not make more sense if you let the other person know. Close the chapter on it. Then move on. Are you not willingly hurting someone (agreed you dont care about them and dont love them anymore) but are you not going out of your way to hurt someone willingly by lying and doing what comforts you? Is it justified to hurt someone because you are unhappy?

Whatever happened to the sanctity of marriage, agreed trust and honesty collapse when a marriage collapses,but what happened to mopping up the mess you make. And from the other persons (the affairee if such a term exists) point of view. Someone who is in a relationship with someone who is unhappy in a marriage, probably quite messed up in the head, who needs support yes, a shoulder maybe, but also practical sense, they do not need people to help mess them up even further.

I dont know quite what to think about this. I am quite anti-cheating. If you are sure enough that you want something else from your life, then be brave enough to express it, be strong enough to talk about it and be kind enough to let the other person out of the marriage as well as yourself.

In some culture I read about it says that when you lie you kill a part of your soul. Maybe it is true.

Could you love Facebook?

This is something I just read, about Facebook. For those of you who have been away from Planet internet, Facebook is a social utility that connects you with the people around you. With a population of users which is deemed to exceed that of UK...it has become a popular way of connecting to people.

This post is a reaction to what the Guardian UK had to say about Facebook..

Interesting..rant if I may call it that. It does have a lot of background information. It is always good to know the background of things you use/ know of/ believe in..however it seems to be nothing I use is devoid of any evil thinking behind it. I use Google (who doesn't) for mail, blogging, photographs and many other things, I walk on streets which are loaded with CCTVs, recording my every move, every time I use my Oyster the Mayor of London, amongst 1000s of other people at TFL, knows where I have been, my credit cards show what I have bought for how much and my store cards tell you what I like, my blackberry tells anyone who wants to know where I am at what time, speaking to who and for how long. I sign data protection statements and then they go and misplace CDs with personal data which is not even encrypted. Wow! And then there is the ability to talk about privacy settings on Facebook! Hello?

It is good to be kept in the know, but I think something good has to be said about facebook too. Apart from the fact that I can now communicate almost daily with people without needing to ring them, I have also managed to locate school friends and college friends as well as Univ friends who are scattered across the planet. I would never have thought of meeting them or seeing them again..but we were great friends when we were in the same geographic location..its good to be able to see them, see photos of their children, who look exactly like them, see videos from the kids I used to babysit, see my neice and nephew who keep traveling the world, I did not have email addresses of all my friends and family to start with, so finding them thus has been good.

Thanks to facebook I can join Anti David Cameron groups, be part of and create pressure groups which have managed to push MNC banks back about some new charges they created for students. Imagine being able to change HSBC's mind without raising placards and walking through wet cold streets in protest. You would say there is something inspiring about marching in protest..I would say not, I was there for the anti-war marches all over UK, the first time around in Afghanistan and the second time round in Iraq, it is not fun, democracy is just about alive anyways...but I digress.

I will not say Facebook is evil scum and should not be used, I will not say it is BAD and should be banned, I would ask what isn't? After all using our options and things available to be used / misused around us for our own advantage is what it is all about. No one is squeaky clean, its is about what you want to see and know about things and then see what you want to DO about them. As they say in Hindu philosophy in the Bhagwad Geeta, everything happens for your own good.

You Tend To Wonder

Random thoughts happening. I have a load of things to do and get out of my way (dont we all) and of course the more pressing the need and the closer the deadline..the further away I want to walk from work. My mother calls it 'shirking' some call it 'escapist' others call it 'lazy', I call it, 'work-best-under-pressure'...I do. It makes sense. When my back is against the wall and I KNOW that something needs doing, doing well ofcourse, but urgently needs doing, I think about it, I put it to the back of my head and then have Random thoughts:

~ Whether my dog is feeling better after being rather sick
~ I should upload a new version of my lecture on the e-learning website
~ This haircut is not very nice
~ Facebook is addictive and I should not use it
~ I missed that film which was based on the book
~ I never see chick flicks anymore
~ Why do men like action films with blood and gore
~ Would I sleep all day if I could?
~ Will India be cold in March?
~ Do I feel any differently about India than I did 10 years ago?
~ Why does winter behave like a petulant child and not go away quietly
~ Do I want to teach for the rest of my life?
~ Where would I like to travel to if money and time were limitless
~ Why do I like all mountainous places?
~ The Shampoo is running out
~ I need to think about calling some friends to dinner sometime soon
~ Why does going to gym make my mind empty?

....the list goes on..I can sit, thought hopping all day. I dont need a book, internet, TV, human company, phone..I can just sit there..thinking random useless thoughts and wondering..its amazing..and this need to wonder is directly proportional to urgency of things that need doing.

World Weary

Call me a disillusioned cynic, call me anti-development and a person with double standards. Call me what you wish..but see the news from BBC South Asia...and tell me what you think..

The latest news of India Reserve Bank Policies being snubbed by the British Trade Minister:

India attacked over UK bank snub
Lord Jones wants a greater freedom in Indian finance. India's central bank has been accused of "protectionism" amid claims that it refused a UK bank permission to open a rural branch network in the country. British trade minister, Lord Jones made the allegation during a trip to India ahead of Gordon Brown's visit.

The comments are the latest about the Reserve Bank of India's (RBI) tight control of the financial sector.RBI said Standard Chartered had last year been granted some licences to operate in the country.

'Development catalyst'

Lord Jones said that the Standard Chartered's plans would be good for the bank and for India's rural areas. "Here you have a fabulous British bank that will do two things," Lord Jones, the former CBI head, told India's Business Standard newspaper. "It will get access to the market but at the same time, it will act as a catalyst towards rural development and inclusive growth in India. Just out of sheer protectionism, the RBI says no."Lord Jones said that the bank was waiting for an acknowledgment to their request to open rural branches, which had been lodged last year.

Foreign banks have been eyeing India as a key emerging market, with outside investors having to apply to the RBI for licences to operate. It expected that during the Prime Minister's visit to India, which begins on Sunday, an accompanying business delegation will sign deals worth about $6bn (£3bn).

His picture on the website has a subtitle that says, 'Lord Jones wants a greater freedom in Indian finance'..does he now. I wonder why? Well I guess no one can stop him from wanting something..and now I shall prevent myself from being rude!!

------

Oh yes I am against it. Why does the Standard Chartered Bank not help rural areas of England, Wales, Ireland and Scotland? Why not? Some areas are very remote and get little developmental finance..and could do with banks helping them. Why not look inwards, rather than try neo-imperialist approaches to entering India yet again.

and let me not even start about USAID..


I may not know much about banking, finance, investment and the global markets. But I do know that I am allowed to sit up, take notice of whats around me, try to understand it and protest if I wish...it was a free world the last time I checked!

Thank you George!

A 2nd year design class has just been lectured about ethics and then in the seminar I expected some of them to start talking about it. Well..they did not.
So we came down to a baser point..are there things/ people/ organizations you are theoretically / principally against?
No reaction.

So we try talking around the standard..Gap, Nike, Coca Cola pattern.
A few murmurs. But not the reaction which I was hoping for. (Bearing in mind most were wearing the first two and one was drinking the second one when I entered the room)

And there I am thinking..this is going to be one long boring seminar.

So I say, ' I hate George Bush!'

Oh Boy..did the conversation start...it started, picked up, snowballed, and caused an avalanche of reactions!

If nothing else I hereby thank Mr.Bush for bringing out strong opinions and reactions in the quietest of classes and thereby being the most useful teaching resource!!

Fitness Fetish Strikes

Yes, I am moving towards the wrong side of the wrong age. And the years of messing about with my body with just about anything going means that I am not in the best on health. Not saying that I am ill...but to put it mildly..I could do with some weight loss..Couldnt we all? Who said you can never be thin or rich enough...well whoever it was, was Right!!

So off we go to the local gym. Sign up for -power pack!, 5 point health check! Yes! we have a steam room! Yes! we have a sauna! Yes! we have over so many machines, Yes free weights, Yes! we have a women's only gym, Yes! we can do a GREAT offer right now, if you sign up for 12 months!! even better if you can drag a friend in and make them sign. And we only cost about 40£ a month...tch tch...dont want to spend that 'little' on your own health I hear you say? Oh
So after being harassed by this Duracell Bunny sales guy at the health club, the deed was done. Now I am committed to going to the gym for my health, and also out of spite..now that I have paid..I shall go! Therein lies the motivation.

So last night was the first time I went back to a gym after a year or so. Needless to say..perfectly tones abs, bums and tums were visible in every corner, and the center as well. Extremely fit people prance around the place..looking...extremely fit not to mention..VERRY BUSY..City-of-London-eat-your-heart-out busy.....its important work..this. The gym is not for the out of shape, ex smoker, love my drink type of person. Oh no. Its all about Lycra, shiny white towels, the energy drink, and Of course..the Ipod strapped to your upper arm!!

And thats not where the cringing ends. Oh no..you wait till you enter the changing rooms. Flashing aint illegal here...oh no sir! You are supposed to strut like the day you were born and not worry about it. Nakedness aside..I have male friends who fantasize about the female changing rooms..but I am not going there..Ahem! Nope!! I am going beyond the showered and changed bits..its the makeup. Oh yes, you need to flick your hair..blast it with the dryer, put on three types of cream, 2 kinds of deo, 1 perfume, six layers of makeup...including blusher to give you the freshly washed, exercise flushed, pink face.., high heels..and then off you go..at 9pm on a weekday..back home. Only to return the next day!! I must say...all I did was shake my head, apply some moisturizer and get out! I hate changing rooms :)

Past Life...

Being a practicing Hindu...I do believe in past lives, future of good deeds, and the progress of the soul, as it moved between the two. I am not obsessive about it, yet I do recognize it and understand it, to some extent, thanks to long lectures and discussions over many years with my grandfather...They were interesting times..spent exploring, thinking, analyzing and discussing the why, wherefores and at the end of the day 'how do YOU know?' type of questions..I do not dwell much on those discussions today...

BUT...

This is what facebook says I was in my previous life..
Result Quiz
Who Were You In a Past Life?
Your Quiz Result
I was Nikola Tesla in my past life!
The result says,

'Of all of your past lives, old Eccentric was your most prominent. If your dreams are ever filled with faint visions of quiet studying, electrical charges, tesla coils, earthquakes, gadgets, weird diagrams, chalkboards full of plans, and women who loved you like an artist, these are glimpses into a world once occupied by your 'vessel'. Cherish your past life and invigorate your current one knowing that you embody greatness in all that you do'.

Interesting..bearing in mind I do not feel great at this point of time, as I struggle to edit yet another draft of my PhD thesis!!

Angry-Mad

Sometimes, some people, some places, some incidents...make you angry..not just the i-am-irritated-leave-me-alone variety, and not even the i-shall-stay-calm-and-get-over-it variety..this is the whole She-bang..the mother of all tantrums, the thrumming anger which takes over your body & soul. The kind which means that had you something to lash out at physically you would.
That I call Angry-Mad. You are so wound up you dont make sense to yourself.

You would lash out, physically.
You, though normally a mild mannered person, would gleefully hit the next person who comes in your way and annoys you.
You would, if you could, shout ARRRRGHHHH!!!!till you could shout no more.
Yes, I am talking the angry enough to walk 5 miles full pace without knowing where you went and how long and far you have walked. yes..guess you are getting the picture now.

Well this kind of anger only visits those who do not have a short fuse, who dont get rattled easily, who get mildly irritated at the most.
So if you are the hot and cold, short fuse, shall shout at a door that does not lock, and curse the hot water tap when it gets stuck, and at the spilt tea...then you are safe from this 'angry-mad' situation.

The upside being..you are a rational calm person generally, once in 4-5 months or even more you get mad. If at all. This means you are easy to live with and easy going.

The downside is..you take 2-3 days, not hours, to calm dowm.

350,000 people

Last night I joined the 350,000 other people in London to welcome 2008. The police were there in droves as were the crowds, with children tucked into pushchairs, some on the shoulders of their papas, some running around, people with blankets, chairs, nachos, olives, beer, horns, hats, sparkling headbands, high heeled shoes, thick winter coats, caps, mittens and umbrellas. London had stepped out to party on the streets.

The London Eye was the center of attraction, with fireworks fixed, ready to be let off. It was a fantastic fireworks show. The music was bad, the lighting was good, the people's spirit was high, the children were happy, the weather was warm, and then it rained...as usual. But onwards and upwards, the New Years Eve fireworks in London were as spectacular as it comes*.

The party was on the Embankment in London, with people filling up the good spots to view the fireworks from about 5.30pm. It was like a demographic pizza slice...people of all nations, race, religions being present. It was what London stands for..a mixed culture that welcomes and accepts. The tube stations got packed, and the party started...people danced, sang, petted the bomb detection squad spaniels, rubbed the noses of horses that the police came on, queued in a polite British fashion for eternity for the porta-loos. And when the sound came on, shouted and sang along, waiting for the Big Ben to strike midnight.

It was a happy looking and sounding start to 2008...



*Apart from a die hard Edinburgh festival fan who moaned that the Scottish fireworks are better at the end of the fringe.