Ashche bochor aabar hobe!

Durga puja over, but dint realize where it flew by exactly.Out here it was more like a quick sneak out of office for a bit of ashthomi onjoli with my 2 bong colleagues and then back to business! Oh words cant describe how I felt since Mahalaya. I constantly visualize myself back home in chit park, in a complete state of festive frenzy and pandal hopping happily.To add to it, friends put up happy pics of the gorgeous goddess, resplendent in her equally gorgeous abode (read pandal) and my heart wont stop bleeding.

People think am being naïve, how can I be so charged up about a mere festival (can you believe it-that’s what some of the bongs wud tell me…) and I simply tell them- I cant stop being the bong I am, so cant help the childlike enthusiasm that builds up during Pujo time,cant stop being nostalgic of pujo days from the past, cant stop looking forward to the countdown,learn new songs or even shop like a maniac …I really don’t wanna help any of it.

It is true that during festivals , the cravings to be with one’s family increases manifold and no matter how much ure friends here make up for it , you just crave….  anyway those 5 days of my life called 'Pravasi Bhartiya Durga Pujo Sammeloni' just flew past me and I was left longing for a more eventful Durga Pujo 2009. Ashche bochor aabar hobe!

Children…

Out here every other family we socialize with are with children…infants, toddlers, prep school to high school. they are present in all shapes and sizes….That ofcourse is not wat this blog is about. Its about how the couples transform into full time parents and nothing else once they are blessed with kids. My neighbor’s wife has just 1 occupation: She is a full time mom to her very spoilt 2 year old. The kid is irky, irritated and throwing tantrums almost all the time. But how much delight her parents take in her is something that is beyond me! I say this, becoz I really do not understand wat is the objective of such profound dedication. Does that mean, I don’t have the right motherly instincts! U may think…but I don’t think so! I don’t think an individual should stop being his/ her personal self once they become parents. I agree that giving birth to a new life is one of the best things that womankind can experience....but we shouldn’t let it overwhelm us to such an extent that everything else ceases to exist! I mean I don’t have a problem with parents going ga-ga over their children, my folks have done it all their life too….but What I do seek is answers to certain questions like….

On becoming parents, y is it that everything else ceases to exist apart from their kid?
Do they do all that they do willingly? Or it is sheer acceptance of a situation?
Do parents see kids as a future investment or is it truly unconditional?
Are children really worth such selfless love?
Are children good ROI’s ?(for the uninitiated its Return on Investment)


Well who knows if i’ll ever get answers to these…maybe I’ll need to wait an watch till I become a mother myself. And dats when I will too be expected to tread the delicate balance between being a parent an also being an individual. Inshaalah!

The A-Z of Punjabi!

This one's not just for Punjabis but for all those who have faced Punglish.
I like 'A is for Aiscreame' infact am half punjoo too(post my marriage to one) but read on.....

A is for Adjust. Punjabis will always ask you to adjust whenever they want to push you around.

B is for Backside, and it has nothing to do with your bum, it is an instruction to go to the rear of a building, or block, or shop or whatever.

C is for Cloney and its not a process for replicating sheep, nor is its first name George. It is merely an area where people live e.g. 'Defence Cloney'.

E is for Expanditure (yes,as per the Punjoo lexicon, this IS the correct spelling and pronounciation). Punjabis are never shy of spending money – the latest cars, gadgets, marble floors: their ambitions are always expanding.

F is for Fackade, and even though it sounds like a bad word it is actually just the front of a building (with backside being the back, of course).

G is for Gaddi, and the way a Punjabi can pilot his gaddi puts any F1 driver to shame. (If the Grand Prix does come to Delhi there's no way Hamilton, Alonso or Kimi can overtake Balvinder, Jasvinder or Sukhvinder.)

H is for 'Ho Jayega Ji', and the moment you hear that you have to be careful because you can be reasonably sure it's not going to happen.

I is for Intezaar, and to know more about it see P.

J is for Jindagi, and if there's one person who knows how to live life to the fullest it's a Punjabi.

K is for Khanna, Khurana, etc, the Punjabi equivalent of the Joneses (e.g.'Keeping up with the Khuranas ji')

L is for Lovely, but unfortunately she almost never is. Also for LOIN!!!

M is for 'Mrooti', the car that an entire generation of Punjabis were in love with.

N is for 'No Problem Ji.' To find out how that works see H.

O is for Oye, which can be surprise (Oyye!), a greeting (Oyy!), anger (OYY!) or pain (Oy oy oy...).

P is for Panch Mint, and no matter how near (1 km) or far (100 km) a Punjabi is from you he always says he'll reach you in panch mint (5 minutes...).

Q is for Queue, a word completely untranslateable into Punjabi.

R is for Riks, and a Punjabi is always prepared to take one (risk), even if the odds are against him.

S is for Sweetie, Sunny, Simmi and Sonu, who seem to own half the cars in Delhi. (The other half by their Pappas - like 'Sweetie de Pappa di Gaddi')

T is for the official bird of Punjab: Tandoori Chicken.

U is for when you lose your sex appeal and become 'Uncle-ji'

V is for VIP phone numbers @ Rs 15 lakh and counting.

W is for Whan, as in 'Whan are you coming, ji?'

X is for the many X-rated words that flow freely in all Punjabi conversations.

Y is for 'You nonsense', when anger replaces vocabulary in a shouting match.

Z is for Jigjag. (Please refer to G, M and P)

To Home and Back...

jus came back from home i:e Delhi....was a brief trip of 10 days dedicated to maa's condition. was happy to see that my lil sis has grown overnight battling tuff times and is pretty much the most mature member of my family given the fact that she is the youngest! she speaks words of enlightenment, spiritualism,restores faith when there is a growing disillusion, chants when there are heated arguments, runs around to make sure there is no financial roadblocks to mothers treatment, sits and discusses like an adult with a panel of renowed oncology specialists and assures everyone that there is gonna be a miracle!

My lil sister is my pride!

Maa's treatment kickstarted on 4th aug and the docs have advised us to wait until 8th sept to conclude anything, so we're being patient and waiting for a miracle....

Met some friends who came home to visit Maa and must say nothing has changed with them(What was I expecting in 5 months time!!!!) Trying times but my dad still made sure I had a hearty fill of my favorite fish everyday complete with Ilish,rui,papda and tangra (God bless him!) Trying times but my mother made sure I packed some ol and new clothes for Oman (keeping in mind my fetish for variety in clothing!) Trying times but to lighten it my sis managed to take me out for a senseless flick-Ugly aur Pagli....Things are complicated,things are slow, things will be like this for some time now but I have faith that good times will flow.

Amen!

To the Almighty

She was away far far away from home and not a part of the goings on… Things were not under her control and she was a mere sounding board for all actions taken. The situation in question is that of her own mother’s health and this was something that cannot be brushed aside come what may! My heart goes out to her, as I can completely empathise with her condition and the way she feels every moment. This was a challenge her family was braving all by themselves without her help or even her presence…..She sits in her remote corner far far away and prays for her mothers speedy recovery. To pray is her only connection with the Almighty and with her own people and Pray she will coz she believes in the power of prayers.

She prays, she chants, she cares, she’s there....

Hey Almighty help her swim through this very tuff time and may her mother recover at the earliest

The feeling called Bengali!

An article written by Veer Sanghvi. I am putting it down because I feel so emotional, and so strongly about it. Being a non Bengali and yet echoing such thoughts, just goes on to affirm my faith in the fact that Bengali is more than just a community or a section of the country, it is a feeling or a sense of being, that can be infused in the person next to you…It makes me glad that I am a mad, emotional and extreme person, or the stereotypical Bengali…Here goes…

Tell anybody who lives in Bombay that he lives in a Maharashtrian city and (unless of course, you are speaking to Bal Thackeray) he will take immediate offence. We are cosmopolitan, he will say indigenously. Tell a Delhiwalla that his is a Punjabi city (which, in many ways, it is) and he will respond with much self-righteous nonsense about being the nation's capital, about the international composition of the city's elite etc. And tell a Bangalorean that he lives in a Kannadiga city and you'll get lots of techno-gaff about the internet revolution and about how Bangalore is even more cosmopolitan than Bombay. But, the only way to understand what Calcutta is about is recognize that the city is essentially Bengali. What's more, no Bengali minds you saying that. Rather, he is proud of the fact. Calcutta's strengths and weaknesses mirror those of the Bengali character. It has the drawbacks: the sudden passions, the cheerful chaos, the utter contempt for mere commerce, the fiery response to the smallest provocation. And it has the strengths (actually, I think of the drawbacks as strengths in their own way). Calcutta embodies the Bengali love of culture; the triumph of intellectualism over greed; the complete transparency of all emotions, the disdain with which hypocrisy and insincerity are treated; the warmth of genuine humanity; and the supremacy of emotion over all other aspects of human existence. That's why Calcutta is not for everyone. You want your cities clean and green; stick to Delhi. You want your cities, rich and impersonal; go to Bombay. You want them high-tech and full of draught beer; Bangalore's your place. But if you want a city with a soul: come to Calcutta. When I look back on the years I've spent in Calcutta - and I come back so many times each year that I often feel I've never been away - I don't remember the things that people remember about cities. When I think of London, I think of the vast open spaces of Hyde Park. When I think of New York, I think of the frenzy of Times Square. When I think of Tokyo, I think of the bright lights of Shinjiku. And when I think of Paris, I think of the Champs Elysee. But when I think of Calcutta, I never think of any one place. I don't focus on the greenery of the maidan, the beauty of the Victoria Memorial, the bustle of Burra Bazar or the splendour of the new Howrah 'Bridge'. I think of people. Because, finally, a city is more than bricks and mortars, street lights and tarred roads. A city is the sum of its people. And who can ever forget - or replicate - the people of Calcutta?When I first came to live here, I was told that the city would grow on me. What nobody told me was that the city would change my life. It was in Calcutta that I learnt about true warmth; about simple human decency; about love and friendship; about emotions and caring; about truth and honesty. I learnt other things too. Coming from Bombay as I did, it was a revelation to live in a city where people judged each other on the things that really mattered; where they recognized that being rich did not make you a better person - in fact, it might have the opposite effect. I learnt also that if life is about more than just money, it is about the things that other cities ignore; about culture, about ideas, about art, and about passion. In Bombay, a man with a relatively low income will salt some of it away for the day when he gets a stock market tip. In Calcutta, a man with exactly the same income will not know the difference between a debenture and a dividend. But he will spend his money on the things that matter. Each morning, he will read at least two newspapers and develop sharply etched views on the state of the world. Each evening, there will be fresh (ideally, fresh-water or river) fish on his table. His children will be encouraged to learn to dance or sing. His family will appreciate the power of poetry. And for him, religion and culture will be in inextricably bound together. Ah religion! Tell outsiders about the importance of Puja in Calcutta and they'll scoff. Don't be silly, they'll say. Puja is a religious festival. And Bengal has voted for the CPM since 1977. How can godless Bengal be so hung up on a religions festival? I never know how to explain them that to a Bengali, religion consists of much more than shouting Jai Shri Ram or pulling down somebody's mosque. It has little to do with meaningless ritual or sinister political activity. The essence of Puja is that all the passions of Bengal converge: emotion, culture, the love of life, the warmth of being together, the joy of celebration, the pride in artistic ex-pression and yes, the cult of the goddess.It may be about religion. But is about much more than just worship. In which other part of India would small, not particularly well-off localities, vie with each other to produce the best pandals? Where else could puja pandals go beyond religion to draw inspiration from everything else? In the years I lived in Calcutta, the pandals featured Amitabh Bachchan, Princes Diana and even Saddam Hussain! Where else would children cry with the sheer emotional power of Dashami, upset that the Goddess had left their homes? Where else would the whole city gooseflesh when the dhakis first begin to beat their drums? Which other Indian festival - in any part of the country - is so much about food, about going from one roadside stall to another, following your nose as it trails the smells of cooking?To understand Puja, you must understand Calcutta. And to understand Calcutta, you must understand the Bengali. It's not easy. Certainly, you can't do it till you come and live here, till you let Calcutta suffuse your being, invade your bloodstream and steal your soul. But once you have, you'll love Calcutta forever. Wherever you go, a bit of Calcutta will go with you. I know, because it's happened to me. And every Puja, I am overcome by the magic of Bengal. It's a feeling that'll never go away.

There's something about being ME

The Hellos,

Hmm, Ive just shifted some action from my ol blog to this new one...gradually I plan to make this the official outlet for my frustrated/enlightened scribbles.Meet me new page, 'Jab I Write'....quite in sync with the way I am ...coz those who know me,know how much I love kitsch...My friends temme that I am very bollywood and come to think of it, I admit I really am!

I have learnt the hard way, 'How not to shy away from stuff I like'...Initially, I used to fall victim to pretentions and psedo-isms and thot that although its not imp to prescribe to external ideologies or thought processes in life, it sometimes becomes imp to wear a mask that can help protect ure individuality from vain influences. So, in life I do admit that Ive pretended to be too many things at too many times like being an intellectual, an NRI basher,a fashion victim, an Al Pacino admirer or an acid rock enthusiast...but in real, Ive never really endorsed any! Those were just means to be one amongst the IT crowd which at certain stages in life mattered the most :P I loved the kick I got out of pretentions then, even went to the extreme of getting a tattoo on the....(A temporary one though) but now no more...

Jab I write...I expect the world to read, comment or critique ...I do not like silent readers who do not really care about participating,contributing or even ripping my posts apart and are there just for some 'lets kill time' sort of sport.I love the wicked, wily, bitchy stuff people post sometime and trust me, that makes me see the real side of this otherwise pretentious world where none of us are really black or white but innumerable variants of grey!

People tell me that at the outset I look like this delicate and naive Indian girl, who cannot tell the difference between the bull and the bear! And I must admit that at times, I have really felt the need to let them think what they think, so am not burdened under their undue expectations from me...But I was wrong, so over the years, it became completely cumbersome to carry on the fake act coz it wasnt getting me anywhere...My mind simply gave up! and the cynic in me started surfacing more often than actually welcome. So now wen some of the real ME has been exposed to the world, I have got extremely sticky comments like....Hey Ria, u cant have really done this! U shudnt talk like that! That's not how girls hailing from good families behave! wat happened to you actually? Since when have u discovered the joys of gossiping? or even , Hey Ria, ure the biggest bitch I know!

So u see, over the years, its this same set of people who despise some aspects of the real ME coz now I do not endorse their thought processes or even live up to their expectations ! But it doesnt matter really..over the years I have also learnt how to brush off some unwanted influences and retain the ones that can only help me grow...Well its a long winding process but I have started walking on the much dreaded path..and believe me u guys, wen someone says, 'Be Yourself', I know exactly wat it means and how it actuallly feels. I am ME becoz am worth it!