Finally, I have my own domain! Am posting my usual snippets at www.merrildiniz.com. However, I don't end up writing that often these days. Since, my office has relocated 500 miles away from my home, life proving to be one big blur when I am not in office!
The good news: you can leave a comment on my new blog by login in with facebook connect!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
THE ALAN HAS ARRIVED!
Tonight we plan to drown our sorrows in cheap but good quality alcohol, apparently in the midst of some heavily painted navy wives.
Three of us are Muscat-teers.
Update:
There were no painted ladies. But my Long Island iced tea was so loaded, none of us could finish it, for fear of not manouvering the very safe streets of Dilli and reaching home in one piece. The venue was a navy guesthouse located in a prime area in Dilli.
We landed there and my friend who looks white but is in fact Indian was stopped at the gate. The watchman inquired if he was a gora. Lucky for my friend, he happened to have his passport on him, which stated clearly that he is Indian, indeed.
This line of questioning continued a wee bit because by policy non-Indian are not allowed into the venue. My friend calls it 'reverse racism', something he has been experiencing all his life.
We entered the bar only to discover the existence of a dresscode; men can't wear denim.
So, Alan and the other Muscat-teer embarked upon an emergency shopping expedition to CP, in the quest of leather shoes and linen pants. "The drinks aren't looking all that cheap now," they chuckled.
By the time they got back, we were two drinks down and they shimmed and shone.
Three of us are Muscat-teers.
Update:
There were no painted ladies. But my Long Island iced tea was so loaded, none of us could finish it, for fear of not manouvering the very safe streets of Dilli and reaching home in one piece. The venue was a navy guesthouse located in a prime area in Dilli.
We landed there and my friend who looks white but is in fact Indian was stopped at the gate. The watchman inquired if he was a gora. Lucky for my friend, he happened to have his passport on him, which stated clearly that he is Indian, indeed.
This line of questioning continued a wee bit because by policy non-Indian are not allowed into the venue. My friend calls it 'reverse racism', something he has been experiencing all his life.
We entered the bar only to discover the existence of a dresscode; men can't wear denim.
So, Alan and the other Muscat-teer embarked upon an emergency shopping expedition to CP, in the quest of leather shoes and linen pants. "The drinks aren't looking all that cheap now," they chuckled.
By the time they got back, we were two drinks down and they shimmed and shone.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
HOT: RECYCLED OFFICES!
My company has finally relocated from Noida (in Uttar Pradesh) to MG Road (in Delhi), which is en route to Gurgaon (in Haryana).
The two office spaces couldn’t be more opposite in character. The erstwhile one was swanky, with an assembly-line production of white cubicles and cabins. We had a pantry, a crèche, a table-tennis space and a gym (which sadly, no one seemed to use).
The new haunt is a nightclub-turned-office, which was originally designed with somewhat rugged interiors. You have wood and stone on the floor, and whitewashed walls. The brushstrokes are still visible, on purpose, of course.
Next door you can purchase a beanbag in the most vibrant colours for 700 bucks (some say you can bargain for as little as 300!). And we eat lunch in the adjoining resto-bar, whilst lounging on plush red sofas.
Some don’t like the space, but I think it has potential and may turn out to be a real project – in a good way.
The two office spaces couldn’t be more opposite in character. The erstwhile one was swanky, with an assembly-line production of white cubicles and cabins. We had a pantry, a crèche, a table-tennis space and a gym (which sadly, no one seemed to use).
The new haunt is a nightclub-turned-office, which was originally designed with somewhat rugged interiors. You have wood and stone on the floor, and whitewashed walls. The brushstrokes are still visible, on purpose, of course.
Next door you can purchase a beanbag in the most vibrant colours for 700 bucks (some say you can bargain for as little as 300!). And we eat lunch in the adjoining resto-bar, whilst lounging on plush red sofas.
Some don’t like the space, but I think it has potential and may turn out to be a real project – in a good way.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
MOOLAH VERSUS MOJO
These days I seem to meet so many people who are preoccupied with making lots of money and then using it for the sole purpose of enhancing their lifestyle.
One such yuppy, a cut-throat sales guys, wants 5 crores in his bank account. Once the deal is sealed, he will quit working for a living (expected, of course). He will completely indulge by playing with the most cutting-edge gadgets, drive the fastest cars, live in a fancy mansion, et al. Sigh. Such a cliché.
The dream figure for another is 100 crores. If he were to hit the jackpot, he might get into philanthropy or even turn entrepreneur, he said with such a casual air that it brought to mind a high society type (and this is me stereotyping) who organises a big ticket charity event to help poor people, but for whom poverty is a concept. Now here’s a smart, intelligent, well-read, well-educated IIM graduate with no life goal (except for getting rich) and no burning passion, which isn’t driven by money or fame.
Some people take long while to zero in on what drives them, and to really feel the passion. But some people aren’t looking, period. I think it’s sad that people with potential and all the credentials, don’t feel the love. Maybe one gets cynical post experiencing the murky side of corporate life, but eventually, I think for those who are truly motivated by something other than money and fame, they get their creative mojo back. And when it hits you, boy, it does with a bang!
It’s this extra something, which makes us committed and have a personal stake in the bigger picture. In Mumbai, I met many people who are passionate about something, and it doesn’t stem from material aspirations. They give their all sans expectation, and unconditionally.
I miss meeting people like that; they are so much more inspiring and those who want only money and fame.
One such yuppy, a cut-throat sales guys, wants 5 crores in his bank account. Once the deal is sealed, he will quit working for a living (expected, of course). He will completely indulge by playing with the most cutting-edge gadgets, drive the fastest cars, live in a fancy mansion, et al. Sigh. Such a cliché.
The dream figure for another is 100 crores. If he were to hit the jackpot, he might get into philanthropy or even turn entrepreneur, he said with such a casual air that it brought to mind a high society type (and this is me stereotyping) who organises a big ticket charity event to help poor people, but for whom poverty is a concept. Now here’s a smart, intelligent, well-read, well-educated IIM graduate with no life goal (except for getting rich) and no burning passion, which isn’t driven by money or fame.
Some people take long while to zero in on what drives them, and to really feel the passion. But some people aren’t looking, period. I think it’s sad that people with potential and all the credentials, don’t feel the love. Maybe one gets cynical post experiencing the murky side of corporate life, but eventually, I think for those who are truly motivated by something other than money and fame, they get their creative mojo back. And when it hits you, boy, it does with a bang!
It’s this extra something, which makes us committed and have a personal stake in the bigger picture. In Mumbai, I met many people who are passionate about something, and it doesn’t stem from material aspirations. They give their all sans expectation, and unconditionally.
I miss meeting people like that; they are so much more inspiring and those who want only money and fame.
Monday, May 11, 2009
HARE KRISHNA
This weekend I bought my first piece of original art. I never intended to actually do it, and was going to settle for a poster or wall hanging, to add some character to the living room. But then, I bumped into this artist Meera who was selling her paintings in Dilli Haat.
I liked one with dancing dervishes, with a burst of primary colours. And I do so love primary colours. She was selling it for 9 k. I smiled squeamishly. "Out of your budget?" she asked, candidly.
"Yes, I said," feeling a little embarrassed. "So, what is your budget and what are you looking for?" she asked with complete sincerity.
"I have to think about it, I suppose," I said, not wanted to divulge the abysmal amount I was willing to pay for someone else's creativity.
"Say Rs 1,000?" she asked. "Yeah," I mumbled.
She asked me if I was looking for a mother and child theme. "No!", I said a little too vehemently.
She looked around a wee bit and then pulled out an abstract one with my favourite colours, green and blue. It had a woman's face, and her eyes were searching and she was calling out to someone. "Hare Krishna," was scribbled in Hindi, several times.
"This one is for love and relationships," the artist explained, convinced that this was the one for me. I paid her 2 grand and returned home, joyous.
The painting lit up the wall. And who knows, it just may be symbolic of wonderful things to come.
I liked one with dancing dervishes, with a burst of primary colours. And I do so love primary colours. She was selling it for 9 k. I smiled squeamishly. "Out of your budget?" she asked, candidly.
"Yes, I said," feeling a little embarrassed. "So, what is your budget and what are you looking for?" she asked with complete sincerity.
"I have to think about it, I suppose," I said, not wanted to divulge the abysmal amount I was willing to pay for someone else's creativity.
"Say Rs 1,000?" she asked. "Yeah," I mumbled.
She asked me if I was looking for a mother and child theme. "No!", I said a little too vehemently.
She looked around a wee bit and then pulled out an abstract one with my favourite colours, green and blue. It had a woman's face, and her eyes were searching and she was calling out to someone. "Hare Krishna," was scribbled in Hindi, several times.
"This one is for love and relationships," the artist explained, convinced that this was the one for me. I paid her 2 grand and returned home, joyous.
The painting lit up the wall. And who knows, it just may be symbolic of wonderful things to come.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
THE DARNDEST THING!
A close friend of mine said the darnest thing to me the other day; if the circumstances were different he would have pursued me and asked me to marry him. Apparently he thinks my personality is very appealing. I inquired about these circumstances, and he refused to comment.
And so, insightful, nosey me, I elaborated for him: religion, community and age.
He agreed.
We tend to have a love-hate relationship; every once in a while we have a fight over ideological differences, and then we agree to disagree. Yet, it takes us a while to reach a place where we truly agree to disagree.
And all the acerbic moments melt away, making way for the most delightful, affectionate, cheery exchanges.
And so, insightful, nosey me, I elaborated for him: religion, community and age.
He agreed.
We tend to have a love-hate relationship; every once in a while we have a fight over ideological differences, and then we agree to disagree. Yet, it takes us a while to reach a place where we truly agree to disagree.
And all the acerbic moments melt away, making way for the most delightful, affectionate, cheery exchanges.
Friday, May 8, 2009
BABY TRAIN
The sofa has helped me start reading again; the morning paper, books, Huffingtonpost.com.
And I can actually invite people home, sans wondering where they are going to park. One fine morning my neighbour dropped in with her two month-old son in her arms. He was being difficult and refusing to sleep. As I held him cautiously in my arms to give the tired-looking mommy some succour, a gentle sleep-inducing breeze crept in from the balcony. A few seconds later, the little cherub was asleep.
The mom looked half-relieved, half-shocked at this minor feat and wouldn’t allow me to speak, lest he should wake up any minute. “You may have an alternative career; start a creche in the building,” she suggested.
I observed later that the windows and balcony doors in her home are perennially shut and the air is static; even a mere cherub can sense this constriction of energy.
And I can actually invite people home, sans wondering where they are going to park. One fine morning my neighbour dropped in with her two month-old son in her arms. He was being difficult and refusing to sleep. As I held him cautiously in my arms to give the tired-looking mommy some succour, a gentle sleep-inducing breeze crept in from the balcony. A few seconds later, the little cherub was asleep.
The mom looked half-relieved, half-shocked at this minor feat and wouldn’t allow me to speak, lest he should wake up any minute. “You may have an alternative career; start a creche in the building,” she suggested.
I observed later that the windows and balcony doors in her home are perennially shut and the air is static; even a mere cherub can sense this constriction of energy.
Monday, May 4, 2009
CAR BUDDIES
I get a ride from my neighbour-aka-friend-aka-ex-colleague-aka-travel buddy(aka-not mommy!) every day. We used to work together in Mumbai, and on my third day in Delhi, I bumped into him on the third floor of my building. It was a pleasant blast from the past.
So, it's never a dull ride with this guy and we end up having some very bizarre conversations, every now and then. The other day we were talking about the M word: Marriage.
He thinks I should land myself a VERY rich chap. "He will need to be either Gujju or Punju," he elaborated with absolute conviction (incidently he is Punju, too, so, I suppose it's warranted!). Something to think about.
Music is also a part of the journey. We listen to 95 on the radio and share a chuckle everytime the RJ's imaginary cow Adam moos. But of late the RJ has been talking absolute crap. So, my pal got a CD of...80's music. We listened to Rick Astley, Thriller, The remixed version of Thriller by dance duo Signature for the Britain's Got talent show and...Tarzan Boy!
The last number we listened to, twice. And my pal especially swears by what sound like gunshots at the start of the song. By the way, he is a fan of the blood, gore and violence of God Of War. That should explain it!
So, it's never a dull ride with this guy and we end up having some very bizarre conversations, every now and then. The other day we were talking about the M word: Marriage.
He thinks I should land myself a VERY rich chap. "He will need to be either Gujju or Punju," he elaborated with absolute conviction (incidently he is Punju, too, so, I suppose it's warranted!). Something to think about.
Music is also a part of the journey. We listen to 95 on the radio and share a chuckle everytime the RJ's imaginary cow Adam moos. But of late the RJ has been talking absolute crap. So, my pal got a CD of...80's music. We listened to Rick Astley, Thriller, The remixed version of Thriller by dance duo Signature for the Britain's Got talent show and...Tarzan Boy!
The last number we listened to, twice. And my pal especially swears by what sound like gunshots at the start of the song. By the way, he is a fan of the blood, gore and violence of God Of War. That should explain it!
THE MAID
My maid is most enthused by the new old sofa set. She noticed that the wood was had plintered on one arm, and demanded in her usual overzealous manner to knowhow this came to be.
I really feel for her, this woman-child who has three kids at the age of 21, no education, and yet, is bright, enterprising and has a memorable personality.
So, this morning, whilst I was sipping chai and lounging on sofa, accepting new Facebook requests, she was mopping the floor and suggesting (rather vociferously) that I get two sets of covers for the cushions -- so, she can wash one whilst the other sits snugly on the Sleepwell cushions.
Also, get a small centre table (wooden), she suggested, so, that she can serve breakfast and sip chai, here when friends pop over. She said all of this rather dramatically, like as if she was visualling a scene, and herself playing a major part in it.
I really feel for her, this woman-child who has three kids at the age of 21, no education, and yet, is bright, enterprising and has a memorable personality.
So, this morning, whilst I was sipping chai and lounging on sofa, accepting new Facebook requests, she was mopping the floor and suggesting (rather vociferously) that I get two sets of covers for the cushions -- so, she can wash one whilst the other sits snugly on the Sleepwell cushions.
Also, get a small centre table (wooden), she suggested, so, that she can serve breakfast and sip chai, here when friends pop over. She said all of this rather dramatically, like as if she was visualling a scene, and herself playing a major part in it.
EMPTY SPACES
Going from living in a 1-BHK to a 3-BHK is akin to a journey of self-discovery.
Sure I had my own room in school. But eight years in Mumbai, where the rents are high and space is money, makes these spaces seem somewhat intimidating.
Suddenly my TV resembled a midget. And my living room looked so very bare. Filling up space on a budget can prove to be a challenge. Sure I could spend a pretty penny and get a bunch of nifty stuff from a swanky, air-conditioned furniture store. But where's the fun in that?
I have ecclectic, vintage tastes, with a smattering of contemporary thrown in. And in the recession, the key is to buy good quality stuff for a great price. So, I got a fab second-hand 5-seater, which adds this warm, homely touch to such a stark, wide space.
Sure I had my own room in school. But eight years in Mumbai, where the rents are high and space is money, makes these spaces seem somewhat intimidating.
Suddenly my TV resembled a midget. And my living room looked so very bare. Filling up space on a budget can prove to be a challenge. Sure I could spend a pretty penny and get a bunch of nifty stuff from a swanky, air-conditioned furniture store. But where's the fun in that?
I have ecclectic, vintage tastes, with a smattering of contemporary thrown in. And in the recession, the key is to buy good quality stuff for a great price. So, I got a fab second-hand 5-seater, which adds this warm, homely touch to such a stark, wide space.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
QBA
This weekend we headed to a lounge-nightclub-restaurant in Cannought Place, called the QBA. I expected some motif of Cuban culture. But there weren't any. So, we wondered if this was a watering hole for Q folks, since one of the gang with us was Q and loving it.
We smirked at the significance of our own conclusions. The patio upstairs is a good bet, and let's you escape the burst (sans any warning) of filmy music inside, playing to a gallery of private party folks. We arrived in time for happy hours, and ordered mojitos and white wine.
That's the beauty of Delhi life. You can reach a bar before 7.30 pm and actually enjoy the benefit of happy hours, unlike in Mumbai where you are sure to NOT reach the venue before 11 pm. Of course on the flipside, this city parties at 8 and sleeps at 11 pm.
On New Year's eve we were grooving in Mumbai. And here we were, the same group, some of who work in Mumbai and hail from Delhi, and some of us who used to work in mumbai, and hail from Goa and Pune, all sipping mojitos on a patio in Delhi, where the giant floor fans emit sprays of water, to beat the heat.
How time flies.
We smirked at the significance of our own conclusions. The patio upstairs is a good bet, and let's you escape the burst (sans any warning) of filmy music inside, playing to a gallery of private party folks. We arrived in time for happy hours, and ordered mojitos and white wine.
That's the beauty of Delhi life. You can reach a bar before 7.30 pm and actually enjoy the benefit of happy hours, unlike in Mumbai where you are sure to NOT reach the venue before 11 pm. Of course on the flipside, this city parties at 8 and sleeps at 11 pm.
On New Year's eve we were grooving in Mumbai. And here we were, the same group, some of who work in Mumbai and hail from Delhi, and some of us who used to work in mumbai, and hail from Goa and Pune, all sipping mojitos on a patio in Delhi, where the giant floor fans emit sprays of water, to beat the heat.
How time flies.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
ON THE MOVE
My office is relocating from Noida to a place called MG Road in Dilli, in the next two days. The metro is being constructed along the length of the road, and we can expect lots of dust, traffic and concrete, in all directions.
On the bright side, there's a decent furniture hub in the vicinity. And the malls of Gurgaon are just a stone's throw away, in case, we feel like some retail therapy.
Yes, this Dilli adventure is getting more interesting (conveniently ambiguous word that reveals absolutely nothing!).
The swimming is coming along great. I find it rather amusing to watch the ladies in the pool sport little frills attached to the swimsuit. Personally, I think it looks tackier than flabby thighs, which are meant to be seen in a pool. The men though are very satisfied to show off their f(l)ab abs, and in fact, freestyle along with a quiet air of contentment, flabby thighs or not.
On the bright side, there's a decent furniture hub in the vicinity. And the malls of Gurgaon are just a stone's throw away, in case, we feel like some retail therapy.
Yes, this Dilli adventure is getting more interesting (conveniently ambiguous word that reveals absolutely nothing!).
The swimming is coming along great. I find it rather amusing to watch the ladies in the pool sport little frills attached to the swimsuit. Personally, I think it looks tackier than flabby thighs, which are meant to be seen in a pool. The men though are very satisfied to show off their f(l)ab abs, and in fact, freestyle along with a quiet air of contentment, flabby thighs or not.
LOTS IS HAPPENING
So, I finally have some new friends, who remind me of the gals in Mumbai. It's like I suddenly don't feel alone in this city, anymore.
They have similar interests -- books, shopping, partying, animals, romance, et al -- all the girly interests without silly chicklet trimmings. And it feels good to connect on a real, non-superficial level.
On the other hand, I attended this gathering of obviously interesting people, but they came across as somewhat clannish. Yet, I know that there must be a smattering of depth in their beings. Or else how would they make such soulful music?
These days I have a new indulgence -- swimming. It's the best part of my day, post office. Lounging in the pool. Doing laps. Waiting patiently for noisy swimmers to whisk past.
They have similar interests -- books, shopping, partying, animals, romance, et al -- all the girly interests without silly chicklet trimmings. And it feels good to connect on a real, non-superficial level.
On the other hand, I attended this gathering of obviously interesting people, but they came across as somewhat clannish. Yet, I know that there must be a smattering of depth in their beings. Or else how would they make such soulful music?
These days I have a new indulgence -- swimming. It's the best part of my day, post office. Lounging in the pool. Doing laps. Waiting patiently for noisy swimmers to whisk past.
Friday, April 17, 2009
CONFIDENCE ON STEROIDS
THE other day I meet these two gals for lunch -- well-travelled, sophisticated types (in a Sex And The City and not a South Bombay way) -- in who's presence I felt a wee bit self-conscious. In the first few minutes of the meeting, I was transported back to school; I was the fat, ugly one, and they were the 'popular' people. This feeling decreased in intensity, as the afternoon wore on. But it did not go away completely.
There was this one booboo moment, where their Italian guy friend stooped down to catch my name. Stupid me -- I thought he was being all Portuguese about introductions, and giving me a peck on both cheeks. He smiled and asked, "Do you want a kiss?!"
The girls smirked (I don't blame them) at my little faux pas, and maybe, two years back I would have shrivelled up and died. This time round, I smiled awkwardly for a few seconds and then the moment was over, overshadowed by a volley of clever repartees from two gals and the guy.
The afternoon proceeded fluidedly. Food, drinks, conversations, confidences and lots of launghs. They were very conversant, and had news, views and staunch opinions to share on all topics under the sun -- from politics to high fashion, food and culture. But they are far from perfect. One had much to desire in her personal life. The other had much to desire in her professional life.
Yet, I have a feeling they will exude confidence in any setting, due to some inherent X-factor, which one can't define. Or maybe it's due to their Ivy League education, having lived in more than one international city, and being born to somewhat affluent (and by that I don't mean necessarily rich) backgrounds.
These girls were funny and smart and nice. At first I thought I was in awe of them. But no, I don't want to be any of them. But I do envy that level of confidence, of being able to hold your own anywhere.
Yes, I felt both envious and slightly in awe -- of this quality in them.
There was this one booboo moment, where their Italian guy friend stooped down to catch my name. Stupid me -- I thought he was being all Portuguese about introductions, and giving me a peck on both cheeks. He smiled and asked, "Do you want a kiss?!"
The girls smirked (I don't blame them) at my little faux pas, and maybe, two years back I would have shrivelled up and died. This time round, I smiled awkwardly for a few seconds and then the moment was over, overshadowed by a volley of clever repartees from two gals and the guy.
The afternoon proceeded fluidedly. Food, drinks, conversations, confidences and lots of launghs. They were very conversant, and had news, views and staunch opinions to share on all topics under the sun -- from politics to high fashion, food and culture. But they are far from perfect. One had much to desire in her personal life. The other had much to desire in her professional life.
Yet, I have a feeling they will exude confidence in any setting, due to some inherent X-factor, which one can't define. Or maybe it's due to their Ivy League education, having lived in more than one international city, and being born to somewhat affluent (and by that I don't mean necessarily rich) backgrounds.
These girls were funny and smart and nice. At first I thought I was in awe of them. But no, I don't want to be any of them. But I do envy that level of confidence, of being able to hold your own anywhere.
Yes, I felt both envious and slightly in awe -- of this quality in them.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
HBO BOOBOO
It's a great thing that a TV channel like HBO offers sub-titles for all its films. Some people find it distracting. However, think about the hearing impaired who can decipher a film, completely because of these.
What I find amusing, is the choice of choice words filtered out of the script. Profanity, of course. Is the word lesbian, one of them? Yes!
Am I to understand that this is supposed to be a bad word? Should we be amused or pissed off?
What I find amusing, is the choice of choice words filtered out of the script. Profanity, of course. Is the word lesbian, one of them? Yes!
Am I to understand that this is supposed to be a bad word? Should we be amused or pissed off?
Monday, April 13, 2009
VARUN IS BAD NEWS
It's funny how Varun Gandhi has now retracted his words about not having made any hateful speeches, and how the videos were fudged.
Now, his lawyer has agreed that he will not make any 'more', which means that he actually made them in the first place, and that all those denials were absolute hogwash. Sigh.
Now, his lawyer has agreed that he will not make any 'more', which means that he actually made them in the first place, and that all those denials were absolute hogwash. Sigh.
CHILL MAAR YAAR
The other day I got very frazzled about the liesurely pace of life in the capital. A friend of mine tells me,"Arre Merril thu chill mar yaar. Enjoy life."
Hmmm...in Dilli do as the Dilli-ites do. I could get used to this!
Hmmm...in Dilli do as the Dilli-ites do. I could get used to this!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
EASTER SUNDAY
MY first Easter in Dilli was a culinary orgy of sorpatel, xacuti, sana (fermented rice cakes) and cheesecake. That mingled with the vermouth and bailey's irish cream had us feeling very lethargic, soon after.
I chatted with two 21-year old stephenians, an economist and mother of three and her two school-going daughters.Their house was lovely, and apparently their building is inhabited by several 'political scientists'.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a very well-decorated Easter egg made of dark chocolate (with more choco goodies inside) in the neighbourhood patisserie (this is Noida!), which I gifted to my host, along with a bouquet that had all the colours of spring.
By the way, in Delhi having no car equals having no life. So, I am taking classes, and my instructor is this elderly gentlemen who painstakingly explains the logic behind every technique and movement. Reminds me of my dad's Physics classes in school, where he would make it all very interactive, much to the horror of many a slacker.
So, in 2008 I made several resolutions, two of them being get fit, learn how to drive (this one was also made in 2007). Well, in 2009 I am actually managing to work on them. Better late than never.
I chatted with two 21-year old stephenians, an economist and mother of three and her two school-going daughters.Their house was lovely, and apparently their building is inhabited by several 'political scientists'.
I was pleasantly surprised to find a very well-decorated Easter egg made of dark chocolate (with more choco goodies inside) in the neighbourhood patisserie (this is Noida!), which I gifted to my host, along with a bouquet that had all the colours of spring.
By the way, in Delhi having no car equals having no life. So, I am taking classes, and my instructor is this elderly gentlemen who painstakingly explains the logic behind every technique and movement. Reminds me of my dad's Physics classes in school, where he would make it all very interactive, much to the horror of many a slacker.
So, in 2008 I made several resolutions, two of them being get fit, learn how to drive (this one was also made in 2007). Well, in 2009 I am actually managing to work on them. Better late than never.
Friday, April 10, 2009
OF RECESSION AND APPRAISALS
So, I have this friend whose dad is genetically condescending, and whose blatant sarcasm irks me. I go the whole hog to avoid him as much as possible.
However, he did make an observation that was almost funny in one of those terrible Somalia-esque joke sorta ways.
He told another friend: If your company does not fire you in this sort of job climate, it's akin to a promotion. I can hear him smirking, already.
However, he did make an observation that was almost funny in one of those terrible Somalia-esque joke sorta ways.
He told another friend: If your company does not fire you in this sort of job climate, it's akin to a promotion. I can hear him smirking, already.
TWITTER TIMES
I seem to have totally lost my literary mojo in the last few months. Maybe, as we get more evolved, we become so understanding and calm, that going-ons of the daily grind and the world, cease to bother us any more. However, I do think it's comin' back...even if in twitter mode. We really do live in a twitter world, and have wonderful thoughts to share in a precise format. I think the twitter guys were truly ahead of their times!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Dilli expedition
So, today is my first social outing with a 'local' from Dilli. Not any Mumbai buddies. Que sera sera!
Update: We attended a chorale music concert in French. She was bored stiff, whilst I was thoroughly amused by the weird dancing and theatrical singing. However, we still had a good time. Those momos and sauce at Lajpatnagar were succulent. I highly recommend spending all of Rs 30 on the chicken momos, here.
Update: We attended a chorale music concert in French. She was bored stiff, whilst I was thoroughly amused by the weird dancing and theatrical singing. However, we still had a good time. Those momos and sauce at Lajpatnagar were succulent. I highly recommend spending all of Rs 30 on the chicken momos, here.
Friday, April 3, 2009
FUN SITES
The HuffingtonPost is fast becoming my new haunt for news, views 'n' juicy tidbits about the US of A. Then there's Votefortheworst.com an anti site for American Idol junkies. The ideas is to campaign for contestants with the worst singing credentials/ strategies, et al. Entertaining stuff that isn't scared to get nasty, too.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Lassie rules!
Every holiday, my folks think of keeping Lassie (the pom) in a home for pets, back in Goa. But ultimately, they just can't bring themselves to leave those puppydog eyes and snout behind. So, one of them stays behind. It's been a long, long time since, we all travelled together as a family.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
A GOOD YEAR
So, this is my first bday in Dilli and it’s all VERY quiet. But the silence isn’t unnerving me, too much.
Maybe, my eight cantankerous years in Mumbai of overzealous, hyperactive friends (you KNOW who you are!), frenzied partying and mean traffic snarls, is allowing me to enjoy these quiet zen moments.
Friends and family have been calling or texting, through the day. I was particularly amazed at the barrage of Facebook messages and wall scribbles by friends and acquaintances.
Will celebrate when pop and Jen land up, this weekend.
Maybe, my eight cantankerous years in Mumbai of overzealous, hyperactive friends (you KNOW who you are!), frenzied partying and mean traffic snarls, is allowing me to enjoy these quiet zen moments.
Friends and family have been calling or texting, through the day. I was particularly amazed at the barrage of Facebook messages and wall scribbles by friends and acquaintances.
Will celebrate when pop and Jen land up, this weekend.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Oceans of rabdi
I have this fantasy of bathing in an ocean full of pulpy-textured rabdi. Well, this Sunday I indulged in THE most mouth-watering rabdi at Paranthe Wali Gali in Chandni Chowk.
We also tried the banana and rabdi parantha, which were accompanied by a sweet-sour-spicy banana sambar, chunks of carrot and turnip and other curries. It was a heavy mix. But the paranthas are dipped in boiling oil for precisely 30 seconds, which explains why they are rich but not greasy.
This little by-lane is a must-visit.
We also tried the banana and rabdi parantha, which were accompanied by a sweet-sour-spicy banana sambar, chunks of carrot and turnip and other curries. It was a heavy mix. But the paranthas are dipped in boiling oil for precisely 30 seconds, which explains why they are rich but not greasy.
This little by-lane is a must-visit.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
the end of cynicism
The greatest thing about my move to
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
BABEL
Just finished Babel, and despite all the very cynical reviews I have been reading, I really dug it. It's about innocent mistakes, lapses of judgment and horrifying repercussions. It's worth a watch. It also hit home, because one of the protagonist is hearing impaired (like Jenny). Imagine being in a disco with people gyrating madly, but no music.
FIT
The good thing about my move to Delhi is that the pace of life is more relaxed. You have space to breathe, read, exercise, and pursue all aspirations. However, having said that maybe this works for me, because I now consider time to be a luxury, having lived in Mumbai, a place where you are ALWAYS running!
I have been able to stick to my New Year's resolution of getting fit by spending 25 minutes a day walking-jogging. And eating healthy, too. Yay!
I have been able to stick to my New Year's resolution of getting fit by spending 25 minutes a day walking-jogging. And eating healthy, too. Yay!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
THE GRASS IS GREENER
My colleagues were distraught over losing to the Kiwis (in a 20-20 match). I secretly swooned. A recent article on Rediff about women's cricket received THE MOST regressive responses on how women's cricket is completely pointless. "Let this m&&&&&&rs lose!," I said.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
MATCH
D is popping down this weekend and we plan to hang out. She is half-Peruvian and half-German, and maybe, the Spanish roots explain the two very opposite sides to her persona that manifest in different ways.
Initially, she comes across as a wee bit frosty, even sterile. And then when she get comfy with you, you get to see affection and a generous dose of quirkiness. Her skin tone is caucasian, but her hair is a massive bob of curls.
I'm all for inter-racial matches, because the results are just exquisite. This whole Indian-marries-Indian scenario is just WAY to clannish!
Initially, she comes across as a wee bit frosty, even sterile. And then when she get comfy with you, you get to see affection and a generous dose of quirkiness. Her skin tone is caucasian, but her hair is a massive bob of curls.
I'm all for inter-racial matches, because the results are just exquisite. This whole Indian-marries-Indian scenario is just WAY to clannish!
Mumbai to NOida
So, the big move has put an end to my singing days. The only singing I do these days is in the bathroom, or rather before I step into ze shower.
The old geezer takes it's own sweet time (how very Dilli of it) to heat things up, and in the interim the laptop blares and I sing along, and even get theatrical about it, courtesy all the space and the solitude, which allows one to display, completely eccentric behaviour, sans any quizzical brows being raised.
Phew!
The old geezer takes it's own sweet time (how very Dilli of it) to heat things up, and in the interim the laptop blares and I sing along, and even get theatrical about it, courtesy all the space and the solitude, which allows one to display, completely eccentric behaviour, sans any quizzical brows being raised.
Phew!
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