Between my Yesterdays & Today

Half a year has passed and it seems like yesterday. It was yesterday (or six months back) that I had an anxious father and a depressed mother who complained of sleepless nights as their only daughter was away in far away lands and pleaded coming back home.

It was yesterday my boss (ex) called me in to his cabin and asked to take over in the next rung of the ladder as he is impressed with the past month's results.

It was yesterday that I had walked up to claim my extra monetary reward on exceptional performances.

and Its Today that I sit by lonely in front of this old computer browsing job portals, getting excited as every phone ring (in the hope of a potential interview call), having to silently accept the advice poured in by any tom dick and harry, see the depressed face of either parent at some point of the day ( their only darling daughter is unemployed and unmarried) and fret about my destiny.

Now what had happened in between this? Why was my yesterdays so fulfilling and today so void. I think in between somewhere I yearned being with my parents, I longed for companionship, I needed to celebrate my life with my dear and near ones. I remember how I longed for my daddy as I had to walk back home alone after those late night shifts. I had wished to hug mummy and cry when a certain show of mine failed. I had felt empty everytime I had received a bonus or appreciation as I had no one to rejoice in. I was convinced of making the right decision when friends applauded my decision to quit my job just because family was my priority.

It was he my friend who kept warning me, "Maybe you just need some holidays, you are overworked. Go on holidays and come back. Dont be foolish"! " No, there is no use in such a life, we earn to live happy. What use of a life when there is no happiness. Maybe later in life I might not get such a well paid job but we three (mummy, daddy and me) would be happy together", and such did I argue.

As I wind up this post of mine, I am convinced that you dont work just for the money but also for a social life, self realisation, to hold your head up high. Family, happiness, joy all has a place but better when on a holiday I suppose !!!

... on my journey to life

“God! Its been so long since I have met you. Where have you been? How have you been? Tell me everything blah blah blah…”, the words flow from my friend as soon as she steps in to my house.

We settle down with some hot milk rich masala tea and she sighs, “ Its been eight years since I have seen you last” ;I almost dropped the serving of potato bhujias (a popular Indian snack) I was helping myself with. Eight years is a lot of time. “ The last I met you was on our farewell in Al Rayyan!”

Al Rayyan my school! As a part of my school education I had been to 3 schools but Al Rayyan is where I seeked my 7 years of education. In those 7 years I suppose I learned some of the mathematic rules, some science, some grammar and more. But I can recollect that crowded narrow corridor which led me to the open ground and assembling there in the mornings, running and rushing after school. Those grey pinofers and long grey skirts, Cap tests and our Ali uncle.

“So tell me everything in your life after Al Rayyan”, her question cut my train of thoughts as the driver applied his brakes. It’s a very sunny afternoon and we continued our talks, I was thirsty for water. My thoughts trailed back to school again, to that water cooler on the left side of the play ground. It used to be a mad rush to get a fistful of water. Yeah, we didn’t use glasses, were there any? I am not too sure now, but we used to cup our fists and drink water. Its surprising, but even today I can feel that coolness trickle down my throat. She notices me smiling as I continue telling her details of my next two years of A-level in another school in the city.

We manage to grab ourselves a seat by the window. The sea was gleaming green in all its glory. The waiter places two plates of food filled in front of us and walks by. I notice his white and black uniform and I tell my friend that’s the same thing the samosa uncles wore to school. My friend laughs and adds her bit about our samosa uncle who was always there by 10 in the morning to sell samosas from the big brown cartoon for Dhs.1.
I have had very good samosas in Bangalore, I add. “Tell me more of what you did in Bangalore, I am interested” she says.

Bangalore, the garden city of India- that’s were I went for college. I love the way she is reacting to my Bangalore banther. I had loads to tell her about my five years of college studies, of my four inter-collegiate events, three industrial trainings, two part time jobs and one placement. After five years of rigouros education and training I joined the lot of fine tuned media professionals. Life asked to work and experience newspapers in UAE, India ; an orphanage in India and finally a media house in Budapest.

“…then?”, she fills in to cover the silence as our plated are cleared and we clear the bills. On a cheerful note I add on, “ I have boarded a bus which is taking me through the rough roads of Life and I seem to enjoy by humpy bumpy ride”. She smiles again. She has not changed nor has her smile. I had last told her good bye in school and its been eight years. Its surprising how we took it off right from where we left it last. “Care for some coffee?”, she asks me as she looks for a cosy spot in the mall- she looks at me and adds “ I must tell you about me now!”.

With fascination I see her happily narrating me about her eight years. She has achieved her degree, she has found love in life, she is in lookout for work and she is content. She excuses herself to attend a phone call. It has been a wonderful day. I have read some where, meeting and parting is the way of life but parting and then meeting is the hope of life. It’s a blessing to have such hopes and joys and to get to enjoy such moments with friends. She comes thrilled and asks “ You fancy a trip to school? Al Rayyan is having its sports day it seems!”

As she attends more phone calls, I make a date to visit Al Rayyan ; my alma mater, where I was told “ Knowledge is all that remains after you have forgotten what you have learnt in school”

While I wait for the Sunrise

While I wait for the sunrise...

life is silent amidst all the noise
life is dark as i walk by the illuminated city
life is crying as I hear so many giggles

I am tired of smiling
I am scared of letting my tears out
I am cautious of not letting my sobs loud

... I am scared as each day passes by
... I am apprehensive of tommorrow
As I know I have nothing more to look for
Other than wait for the Sunrise!

In a minute life changed
I saw it slip away from my hands
I felt the sun set in my life

The sun set
The cold froze my soul
The tears still flow
And wait for the sun rise to show me light

The Bride...

The alarm is ringing, its 18.00. I have no choice but to wake up from my afternoon siesta. I needed this sleep as its a late night show and the last thing I want is to feel sleepy at work. Should I give myself the luxury for an extra 15 minutes on bed??? Hmm, maybe yes. Its not everyday that I have such a sweet sleep, especially after the Slovenian turmoil in office.

Or maybe not! AS i open my eyes, I can see the foggy weather outside and it makes me want to curl inside the quilt more but then I suddenly feel amiss in my room. Oh ok, its the table lamp which has gone off. All of a sudden the entire place looks all dull and devoid of life. Maybe I should get up now. Not appreciating this change in my life, I decide to have the luxury of a hot water shower.

Water does rejuvenate me and now its tea time. After preparing an extra strong milk tea, I head towards the small make believe temple that I have in my apartment. After the usual complaints and new developments I inform God, I receite the new mantra that ammama has taught me. Its for good compatibilty between me and my fiancee. Hmm not fiancee yet, still a long 5 months to go.

Mom dad is extremely happy these days. And what more can I ask for? Of course they will be happy. Their only daughter is getting married. All that they can think of is the engagement, wedding, jewels, sari and what not. Especially mummy, I am sure for her own wedding she was not this excited. Well well, mom was telling me that by this week the hall for the engagement needs to be booked and I have not heard anything about it. Maybe i must mail them now and ask. Must also remind them to book and keep the beautician. I want to look special on my engagement :) :)

I am not saying because I made it, but the tea is lovely and what more possibly can I ask for in life.

... and I sign into my gmail account. Four mails and yeah I have a mail from home.

Subj: Confidential report received...

As it takes time to open, my eyes go past the lovely table lamp and suddenly I realise how dull my room is and yes the mail says...

I again look at the table lamp. It was not just the room that has gone dark, its my life too! Mom dad has found some earthy shaking facts about the person whom I was promised to be given away in marriage and now they are againt this match.

The tea has gone cold. It must about 4-5 times since I read the same mail again and again. The last line asks me, what do suggest we must do?

I had known once what it was to be heart broken and now I feel the pain again. I didnt know I was beginning to like him. But why did I feel hurt? I look out and its foggy. I walk up to the balcony and the mist makes me wet on my exposed skin. The cold is biting right into my soul but I am able to take it.

I wanted to be a bride adorned in red with my neck shining in yellow. I wanted the fragrance of the jasmine flowers from my hair to spread all around. I wanted to lead a simple life as somebody's woman. And now I stand here, all by myself with no clue as to what is next in life. All these days I have been looking forward for May 16th 2010 and now I fear as each second passes.

Frantic calls from home to make sure that I am okay. I dont want to cry on the phone that will take away their ease and give them sleepless nights until they see me next. I wish to burst out in tears, I wish to scream and complain. I wish I had never tried to be the son they wanted and be myself.

Its been close to 8 hours since I received that mail but the pain is still 8 minutes fresh. Soon the sun will rise and a new day.

As each moment passes I will have to accept the fact that I am no longer the Bride I was longing to be...

Budapest Banther!!!

Its been close to two months in this beautiful city. I have people asking me every second day whether I have adjusted to this place. The answer I say is that I am still sinking into the system, at times I feel I belong here but at some instances I am so new and lost.

Today I want to share some of the musing experiences I have had in this hidden gem of Europe (thats how Budapest is known as, I have not travelled else where in Europe; pls excuse if its else) :

1. TOILET PAPERRRR- My flight to Budapest was a connecting one through Istanbul. After a tiring and seemingly long flight I land in Istanbul. After obtaining the required transit boarding pass, I chose to freshen up. As soon as I enter the ladies room, (like a typical indian i peek in to check if the toilet is clean and as i am convinced) i proceed further to relieve myself. After I finish with the nature's business I look around for the ass gun ( thats the long pipe which u will find in all the toilets in Asia which is used instead of toilet paper) and I was shocked. Oh G, how do I even move out from here. CLeanliness. I hestitingly use the toilet paper.

I come out and keep scrubbing my hand with loads of soap and look around for a cup so that I can sneak in some water inside the toilet. I stand there for a while and notice that no people have a complaint and are happily walking out of the toilets. I still stand there feeling extremely dirty. A small birdie within me reminds " Be a Roman when you are in Rome!" Maybe its going to be toilet paper from now on...

2. NO ENGLISH! ONLY HUNGARAIAN- How could i go alone to a foreign place. atleast let dad come and see how the people are and get you settled, that was what my mom kept chanting all the while i was preparing for my trip. i had a tough time convincing her and told her its not going to be difficult. they will take care of everything and how is there a chance of me getting lost. I know english, I am educated. So what can go wrong!

I am waiting in the long queue in the Budapest airport and the sudden idea of exchanging euros to hungarian forints hits me. I look back and ask the lady if she knows where is the nearest money exchange centre? she looks at me as if i spoke something funny and says something. all that i could understand is from her head shaking and frequent eye narrowing is that she doesnt get what i say. I some how thank her and decide to find out as i leave the place.

I find my company driverwaiting outside. I happily handshake and get into the waiting vehicle. The city is beautiful, it reminds me of the english counttyside that i had seen in the serials which i had seen when i was young. But something was funny. the boards, the posters, the shop everything had english script but it was not english. I ask the driver and he in the english with what he can manage tells me, here NO ENGLISH ONLY HUNGARIAN!

3. WATER..VIZZ??? After the initial mandatory formalities in the office, they be very kind to me and tells me that i could start from the monday which meant that during the weekend i could take some rest from the jet lag. I get back to the hotel, have a nice long, warm shower (during the shower I see rolls of toilet papers tucked in the shelf up) and just fall on the bed. I suddenly feel my throats parched and look around for water. Hmm, they have not kept any drinking water for me. I decide to walk up to the reception and ask for some drinking water.

The gentleman in the counter seemed amused that his guest has come asking for drinking water and politely guides me to a mini bar which is available in my room for water. Like a very good indian girl (i dont drink and so i didnt bother opening the mini bar when i had first entered the room- what if some body finds out and spreads rumours that I began to drink once i reached the foreign lands). I walk back to the room and find the mini bar and see a pricelist on top. so i must pay for the water i take from here. hmm ok.

i find colorful bottles and take the water bottle out. I was extremely thirsty and gulp the water down and within the first gulp i realise this isnt water but soda. but this is the only water bottle that i find. God where am I? No ass gun? No english? Now No drinking water?

I some how manage the night. I decide the next day when i go for breakfast i shall ask the lady to serve me some water. The lady asks me what water i want? HUH??? water had types? I said normal water? She is absolutedly taken back by my response and adds, no no u drink water with vizz? Now what on earth is vizz? i said drinking water. she asks me tap water? whats wrong with her? how can i drink tap water? i ask her to get me a glass of orange juice instead.

It was later during the day i realised that people drank soda the very way they drank normal water. the water bottles with blue caps were water with vizz (soda) and the water bottles with pink caps were still water. there was nothing as normal water. everything is normal here!

4. NO CHICKEN!- First day of office and now its my first lunch break. As soon as I step out i dont know where is that i must go for lunch. Somebody told me there is a nice shop down the lane but all the shops look nice. where can i get lunch?

I walk further down and find a nice restraunt which looks like what will fit my pocket and smile at the man behind the counter. I look in to the menu and realise, NO ENGLISH ONLY HUNGARIAN mantra is implemented here too. I ask him what does he have in chicken. I am sure I will not find anything in vegetarian. He looks around and says no chicken. WHAT? NO CHICKEN? but i smell meat around. did he mean that his chicken dishes are over or what? What do i do for lunch?

he sees the confusion on my face asks " you india!". I wanted to tell him I am not India but I am from india. but yes for him I am india on the whole as a package standing there with long earings, kohl eyes, a small bindi and a dupatta neatly drapped to cover up the essentials. He asks vegetable? That suggestion itself let a hundred thousand fireworks set in within me. When was the last time I felt this? Maybe when I was first proposed marriage...

I trust him with whatever he gets me in vegetarian and here my lunch comes. Its pita bread stuffed with boiled vegetables with a spicy youghurt mix, well not very much my choice of lunch. But beggars can never be choosers.

Hunagrians love meat and turkey and chicken is not a popular choice. Hmm I come from a place where you will find Chicken Countys mushrooming everywhere. So that was my idea of non-vegetarinism!!

5. NO CHILLI POWDER!!- I am happily settled in a cozy studio apartment. Hmm the kitchen is well equipped too. I decide to go and get some grocery shopping done the very next day. With the help of some indian friends I find my way to the nearest supermarket. Milk, fruits, coffee powder, youghurt, bread, butter and now I must get some salt, sugar and chilli powder. I was well warned earlier by some indians that spices are not widely available in supermarkets and we need to make it to the indian shops to get some. maybe some chilli powder and salt shoudl be fine to feed me for a day or two until i am taken to the indian shop.

searching searching...i have gone through all the possible powders that supermarket shelf and i find no chilli powder. something red i see is paprika powder. will it be the same? should i take a risk. but how can it be that there isnt any chilli powder? disappointed i head towards the billing counter with the rest of the stuff!

Paprika powder is the equivalent of our chilli powder but very mild in form. The local cuisine is bland and flavourless

6. SUMMER TIME IS NO CLOTH TIME- the weather isnt like when i first landed Budapest. it was getting warmer day by day and i began to notice that the girls on the streets began to wear lesser cloths comparitvely each day.

A colleague at work asks me, " are you feeling hot?" as she inspects me top to bottom making me consciuos of my half sleeved long kurta and jeans. I smile and tell her no and notice her as she walks past. she has her bare essentials partly covered in white and on top has a netted coat in lemon yellow. i dont know whether she forgot to put on her cloths in the morning or is that all she had to put on for the day.

I begin to notice the other girls in the office. It was all the same. Beating heat was by exposing their bare skin.

However what I began to wonder was why is that only women felt so hot at a temperature of 32 C and not the men? I see the men clothed the same from the day I have come. It was usually burmudas and t-shirts for them. Doesnt the heat hit them?

7. SHE IS MY FATHER'S WIFE- A usual chat with the team members before beginning any show is usual. A telephone operator who was on holidays for a week come back and I was excited as he told me that he was holidaying with his family as his father with his wife from Panama.

Father with his wife? I excuse myself and tell him that i dont wish to intrude and ask him why does he say as my father's wife? he smiles and tells me that the lady is his 60 year old father's new 38 year old wife. i didnt wish to ask further. The first feeling I had was of the age- gap. I also remember the hue and cry made when an older President was set to marry a younger model girl.

This has set me thinking. Why should it have hit me like this? My parents have an age gap of 20 years among them and there are so many people who do the same in India. Whats wrong even if an older woman married a young man? Marriage is also about the union of the souls. Do souls and your inner self have an age?

He might not wish to call her mom but he has the respects and love her like another person in his family. Relations might be different, handled differently but at the end of the day no man wishes to be alone. The mention of family does bring back some memories and yearning!

8. I LOVE INDIAN MEN- It was one of those parties held in the office where we could cook our traditional cuisine. I chose to cook some butter chicken sensing that the curry itself will be rich but mildly spicy that the local people can take it.

After the cooking and feeding the people, a person comes up and initiates a chat about India. I was impressed by his knowledge on gayatri mantra, rajma, irfan pathan and abdul kalam. I think he did manage to touch the weak points of any indian- religion, food, cricket and personalities!

As we continue our chat I casually pop up the question as how does he know so much about india and he very casually tells me that his ex was indian. i say i am sorry. He further tells me that i need not be sorry as he didnt love me. I am unsure if i heard it right. He or She? Out of curiosity i further ask what was your ex' name? His name was Arvind! ARVIND??

I have personally never had problems with people's choice on their sexuality but this was my first time when some one opely admits his sexuality. I come from a country where men marry gurls so that the society doesnt get to know their sexuality!

I look back to him and begin to notice his mannersims. He adds, you know i love indian men. I didnt know what further to say except that " I too love indian men!"

9. SIR, SEX?- As I usually go for work at nights because of the night shows, I have a cab coming to pick me. I have always seen pretty gurls in skimpy cloths (it is still summer) walk up and down the streets and catch up for a chats in those several benches lined down. I am now used to their stares and nudhing when i walk past.

One day as i wait for the cab when he was unusally late, I find one of those pretty girls walk past a man standing probably an arm distance away from me. She in the most coy way possible looks at him and asks, " Sir, sex?" I felt a hot flush followed by a cold shiver. Sex workers get their transactions done so openly. This was followed by the man disagreeing to her price and walking away. I turned back to look at her. She winked at me and went behind the next man, " Sir, sex?"

She sold her body like vendors in India sold bindis and bangles.

10. YOU MISSED SOME GREAT WEED AND MARIJUANA- It was a host's birthday party in my office and due to some reasons i could nt make it to the surprise birthday party thrown for her. After a show as i catch up with one of the other hosts, i begin to probe details of the party. I ask him what was the food ( the very typical indian in me who judges how good a party was with the food served!) and was a relived to find out that i didnt miss on anything because there was absolutely no food served but it was loads and loads of drinks.

I wanted to know about the dancing and fun and this host adds on-" you should have come. you missed some great marijuana and weed! it was killer stuff, never had anything such. you missed it" As soon he said that i was scared for him that nobody hears that. People would be upset if they knew he did drugs. But wait a second- if everyone in the party did marijuana and weed and if he is speaking to me so casually about it then does that mean that i work in between a bunch of drug addicts???

11. A PHOTO PLEASE- it was like any another day but i guess the girl in me woke up. I wanted to look beautiful and whenever i wanted to look beautiful. It meant a salwar khameez with a beautiful duapatta which had to be left swaying, long earrings, a beautiful bindi, an extra line of kajal and hair left open. while going through my earrings i decide to wear a jhumka and some bangles with it. I look at the mirror and I am perfectly satisfied with what i see. Nothing is to much just in place.

As I punch in my entry card, i have some one from behind telling me nice dress. I smile back thanku but not satisfied with the compliment i walk down to my computer just for more comments on me and my dress. Very happy with that and with a day with everything in place I check on my kajal once again before i leave for home.

As I wait for my bus, I notice a young lady with a gurl child of maybe 4-5 years looking at me. She comes to me and asks, can take a picture? It takes me a second or two i guess to realise what she wants from me. I ask here again what? She says she wants to take a photo of me with her daughter standing next to me...

In india people become stars because of not wearing cloths and here in a foreign land i become a star because of my cloths...what an irony!

11. EYEBROW WAXING-Its been over a month and my eyebrows begin to look like an overgrown forest. With some tips from an Hungarian friend, I walk tinto the nearest Kozmetika and tell her that i need to get my eyebrows done.

A very pleasant looking middle aged lady takes me to an room and asks me to take a seat in a reclining seat. I think the last i saw this was when i went to get my cavities filled in at the dentist. I am unsure whether she understood what I want. Another lady wearing a white coat (very similar to what my dentist was wearing) walks in and switches on a white overhead lamp and begins to inspect how overgrow are my hairs. I begin to doubt whether this is a clinic with the way they went about with the services. She does some basic work and asks me - EYEBROW WAX? WHAT ON EARTH DID SHE MEAN WHEN SHE SAID EYEBROW WAX? I WILL BE LEFT WITH NO EYEBROWS?

i explain to her that i need to get the stray hairs removed and with a quizzing look she assures me in hungarian that she will do that (i suppose thats what she meant). I with all my heart pray to God that let this experiment not go a waste and I be in a condition to leav for work tomm.

She applies a round of hot wax and gently places a strip on. I hold on to the reclining chair tight. Now i know why she has kept it here. without any caution she pulls its hard and i feel something peeled away from me. She did that some 3 times, followed by some soothing cream massage and showed me the mirror. I was amazed with what i see and was happy. No wonder she is still having her shop open here.

Paying her I tell her that i will come to wax my eyebrows again next month...

...my confidant

trust my blog to know me

u will see the world through my eyes. I have done several wrongs but i have always ended up in that thinking i was right. Life has taught me its lessons...

i am not afraid to speak my life in this platform

my life is to be an open book..

hmm...

my life is to be an open blog

The greener grass the other side...

I was wondering how life is? Or maybe should i say how my life is...
As a child, I was well pampered like any other child who is born and brought in the middle east with all the means by parents could afford to. I always used to fancy the kids' goodies in school and wanted the very same even when i had the very same but of better quality. i always liked things when others had it with them. (I wonder whether there were kids who used to facny my goodies too)

As I grew up, like any confused adolscent even I was confused and everything in life was rosy and beautiful. Right from cloths to friends to careers. maybe thats why my career interests changed from a psychiatrist to an interior designer then a business lady and finally i ended being a show director for television.

College was no different, I always liked the cloths others wore but i realised that i didnt have the body to carry it. i always loved the hair cuts the gurls had but my hair wud just curl up after a hairwash post the cut. uff those days...

it was those times when everyone was falling in love, everyone had a boyfriend. how i envied those gurls who decked themselves up and went out on dates. I always had my mobile phone by my bedside waiting for some prince charming to call in and say that he wants to take me out ( now you know what was the most immature feelings I have had). It was a time when i felt that i too needed a boyfriend to prove myself.

in one of the those several waits and immature attempts- i found that guy who was all that i wanted. a prince charming, the rough and tough guy and the son my parents would want. happiness was no bound when he asked my parents for my ahnd in marriage.
for once i knew that people envied me!

however good things come in small packages and my package was probably too small that i could not even open it- my knight in shining armour rode away and i was left battling with confusion and emotional turmoils. i began envy gurls who had steady boyfriends from years. i began cursing my luck for taking me to such a point which was never there in my wildest dreams.
college was nearing its end and every one had a job, except for me. i just didnt clear the HR rounds. I hated myself for everything. I didnt know what to blame and how to blame!
my life has its own plans, an unoticed test a neglected interview and disinterested rounds of conversations got me a job in Budapest as a show editor.

today i understand that life will give you what is in store for you- no matter what you run behind. There is something like destiny, the grass does look greener on the other side but who said the greenest grass is the best?

Now i realise how much i have missed in this 23 years by not being content with the small joys which life had kept offering me while i was busy trying to reach up for the starts when the moon was right on my lap. maybe this is the part of growing up and learning.

hmm maybe i have not learnt it enough because i am beginning to wonder why is that my parents are not thinking of my marriage as all my friends send me marraige invites and family pictures from honeymoons from far away lands...

Some things will never CHANGE (maybe...)