The Pleasure and pain of working with a Female Boss

" Your word is my command Madam", no these are not the love soaked offerings of my Admirer but my helpless surrender to the unexhaustive demands of my Boss.

Yes, I have just suffered a Boss change and am still not over it. I have always dreaded working with a Female Boss. They can be real pain, though I have never experienced it personally. While a male boss will more often than not remember you are a lady, a female boss will take pleasure in reminding you that you ARE a Lady and for that matter a useless one. 

The lucrative part of a same sex boss is the no frills attached relationship. There are no pretenses, whatsoever. If you are on the credit side of the balance sheet you can just walk in their offices, crack a joke, give a high 5 and call it cuts. You can share everything with them from a hair cut gone awry to your PMS symptoms. 

But god forbid, if your relationship takes a U turn. There is no fury like the fury of a woman scorned and then... you are History.

On a more serious note females rule from heart. They reason and logic better than men. Their sense of humour is out of the world. They seldom show their favoritism and do not spare anyone when it comes to work. They are also better in letting go....of all the ill feelings, tensions, panics just because they are better organized. Time management is a child's play for them.  

I am not writing a ODE to my boss here (though I fervently wish she reads this) but I am yet to be a victim of her wrath. The zone ahead is a 'TREAD WITH CAUTION' path for me. It is good to let a lion sleep for as long as possible lest it roars and rips apart. 

Hang on....I hear something. Ssshhh she is coming and I am off to another page that reads.....How to become like your Boss ;)

Of love and longing

She sat on her bed crying. Today again she had a fight with Somu, her beloved husband. It had just been 2 years since both of them got married. These fights have already become a part of their early morning routine. 

She was a financially independent woman before marriage who left her job to cater to the initial demands of a family life. Sitting home was just not her. Yet she chose, to strike a balance. Why would not Somu understand that. Every other morning he would give some or the other reason to come home late. The passion was already amiss. 

It was her parent's anniversary today and they had called both of them. As usual Somu did not have time. She could have gone alone but that would hurt her parents. After all how many times did they formally invite both of them for the fear of letting her down.

While she was sitting, he called out - loud and clear, the ragpicker for the colony. Yup, she did have some old stuff to discard. She went out to ask him to wait and noticed a young boy in his early twenties doing the job. "Who are you, where is the elderly fellow who comes daily", enquired she. "He is my father and off late is not keeping well hence I come". There was a certain charm to the boy hence she asked him to sit and offered him water. She came to know that he was doing his post graduation and was not at all ashamed to pick rags. If his father could do this for the entire life to give him a good education he could surely do it for a few days. They sat for long and chatted. She contrasted his love for his father with Somu's love for her. How similar situations and how different the treatment. One took time out of love and the other could not find time for the love of his life. They talked for almost half an hour. 

And then it became a routine, she would talk to him daily on some or the other pretext. She sensed he also liked talking to her. Both of them found solace in the conversations they shared. He would tell her about how his mother left his father because she did not like the job he did and he swore to stand by his father no matter what. She would talk about Somu and how love was just crawling out of their marriage. The class confines held no bar for both of them. Where hearts meet, brains are forced to take a backseat. There were no worries of inflated egos, pretenses, false sophistication, Only plain, unadulterated admiration.

They  now started looking forward to this happy hour as they termed it, free from the worldly woes and so personal. She was no longer bothered by Somu's indifference to her. Somu was also happy to be relieved of her constant complains.He was amazed to see her light, playful demeanor back but failed to understand the reasons behind it. It was good for her if she continued this way. 

It had been a month today that they met. She offered to take him out for coffee. He was a little reluctant to get inside the five star hotel. He had still not adapted to her expensive ways. But he liked the way she kept a low profile despite the class. Hence he agreed. It was just the upbringing she had. Once inside they sat sipping coffee without a word. For the first time there was silence between them. Probably their eyes did most of the talking without letting the brain know of it. She paid the bill and came out. As they sat in the car their eyes met again. There were two agonized souls lurking in them.  They came closer and then their lips met. There was no urgency. Slow, soft, pure emotions simply flowing in as if in a gesture of giving. Giving peace, calm and  soothing the bruised selves. Their eyes met again. And then she realized.  The reality of the situation struck her for the first time. She withdrew in a fraction of second. He, not knowing what happened, just gazed at her. She started her car and raced home. Once there she ran inside and locked herself in, tears streaming down her eyes. 

Does happiness always comes attached with a price tag. Suddenly all the money in the world fell short to buy what she wanted. She opened her door to have a last look at him, he was already out of sight.

Reflections of a wandering soul

 A song from radio yesterday prompted me for this blog.

I have grown old with Indian Music (yup, English was never my forte except the ever so sexy number Waiting for tonight). Hindi songs were my first love teacher :) They are the best partners to a heartbreak too. There is more to what meets the eye, deep inside, between the lines. Here I go.

1) Chalo ek baar fir se - Gumraah

Melodical suggestion to amputate the disturbing memories, could not have been better. 

Wo afsana jise anjaam tak laana na ho mumkin, 

use ek khoobsurat mod dekar chodna achcha

2) Is mod se jate hai - Aandhi

The quest to unite, so strong, so ethereal yet so simple

ye soch ke baithi hu, ek raah to wo hogi

tum tak jo pahuchti hai

3) Mera kuch saaman - Ijaazat

A masterpiece by R.D. Burman and Gulzar, the perfect company to lonely nights with the raindrops plattering against the window panes. 

ek ijaazat de do bus, jab isko dafnaungi

mai bhi yahi so jaungi

4) Hum tumhe chahte hai aise - Qurbaani

An eternally romantic song, featuring the Ah so handsome Vinod Khanna. The desire of every heart in love

mere khwabon me jo saj raha hai

wo khuda to nahi par zamane me sabse juda hai

5) Jo tumko ho pasand - Safar

One song I would love my man to sing for me time and again. Throughout a promise of fidelity and unfaltering love. The presence of style king Firoz Khan lends more than just meaning to the song ;)

poore hue hai apse armaan zindagi ke

hum zindagi ko apki saugaat kahenge

6) Sagar jaisi aankhon wali - Saagar

Hardly will there be a woman on earth who will not blush listening to the song being directed to her. Full of enraptured admiration and delightful arousal of the senses.

ye armaan hai shor nahi ho,khamoshi ke mele ho
is duniya me koi nahi ho, hum dono hi akele ho

7) Humne dekhi hai - Khamoshi

a beautiful song which is simply out of the world. Every time I listen to the song the lyrics stir some unknown feelings deep inside me. The timeless art of defining love.

sirf ehsas hai ye rooh se mahsoos karo

pyaar ko pyaar hi rehne do koi naam na do

Am sure there are more in the list. Hindi songs have some of the most beautiful gems around. But for now this is all I recall. Feel free to add on. 

Lessons from Yesteryears

Dear Readers

This has been long boiling in me, but was too tied up to pen it down. Finally today I can stand it no more and have to write anyhow. My thoughts are foggy with so much to deliver and discuss.

We all during the natural phenomenon of growing up knowingly or otherwise experience so many things which mold us to be what we are, from insignificant trivia to remarkable episodes.

This column will be about important lessons that I have learned during the course of my growing years. They have all contributed in me becoming what I am today. So all those who think I am a good human being, I am hardly to credit. There are so many out there who have left a mark on me and have shaped me in my current form. 

My favorite lesson till date has been from a close school friend Vriti Sharma. I have hardly seen her after my college days but we still manage to catch up on phone at times. I remember it vaguely....something had happened while in school and everybody held me responsible. She was one of those who agreed with me when I said it was not my fault. As a kid I had learnt that at times saying sorry was the safest bet. In order to avoid conflicts I agreed to say sorry. It was then that I learnt this for life She came to me and very humbly asked if I genuinely felt sorry. " Are you out of your mind, of course not, you know I am not a party". "Then why do you want to make your conscience weak". Those words still echo in my mind. Sorry is such a small word, at times we do not even think twice before saying it. It has almost become a fad to say sorry and forget it. How many times do we actually mean it. More than that we just say it for the heck of saying. 

Today I realize this restraint has made me a stronger person. I do not say sorry now till the time I am sure I am at fault. Other way round, I do not even hesitate to accept my mistakes. Because I know what Sorry is all about. There is no fear, feeling of subservience or inferiority when I accept my mistakes. In fact it has made me more magnanimous in ignoring others' mistakes. 

The lesson has had far reaching impact on me. I am a more strong, accomodating and confident person now. I know accepting mistakes is tough job and hence take utmost care not to repeat it. I have learnt never to say SORRY without being at fault.

Thank you Vriti.

I am sure all of us had similar expereinces. Why not add to these lessons and make this a learning chain. After all it is never too late to learn. What say!!!

The Weak Planner

Before writing anything else, I want to shout at the top of my voice- AIR INDIA SUCKS AND I HATEEEE IT.

This week was one of the most depressing that I could reminisce. Even before the week began my two day  leave long planned for one of my close colleagues' wedding stood cancelled. The air tickets had looongg been booked and were non refundable. I had sooo wanted to be a part of the ceremony in Chandigarh. The flight was Tuesday Night and I am talking of Monday Morning.

Evening I get the favour through a mail - I can go, rather I must go. (Please read- the breed called boss) Period. I am not submissive either. I have a colleague's ticket still on and decide to maintain that.

This is Tuesday. Late evening I get a call from the concerned person who was supposed to travel saying somehow his tickets also stand cancelled and he cannot go (Why/ How is all together a different story. Demeaning the party is not my objective). It is compulsive for one of us to go. I frantically call the person and ask him to arrange for some mode of transport of which we can share the cost. I get a curt reply saying no.

My eyes are brimming with tears now over the helplessness and dejection. I am panicking big time because wedding is the next day and the tickets are costing me a fortune. I spend three hours on phone working out the cheapest combination. Finally I get them done. But I am torn between gifting my parents the much awaited holiday or attending the wedding. I settle on the later for reasons obvious. I spent one entire night reconciling my balance sheet where the debits overshoot the credit by half a lakh.   

Wednesday morning I pack hastily and leave for the airport. The entire journey went unevetnful as my thoughts were stuck on the mathematical figure. I reach late evening. My colleague is elated to see me. The feeling is mutual and so for the moment the pain is gone and the entire ordeal seems successful.

Thursday morning after bidding her off to the groom's house I take the hour long cab to Baddi where my Aunt lives. Gorge on some good breakfast as I had missed my meals the last day...one due to anguish and the other amidst all excitement.

Afternoon I reach the airport settled a bit in the mind only to be told by the security that my tickets are for 13th and it was 12th that day. WTF....sorry, did not have a better exclamation than that. I plead the guards to help me out. They permit me in on humanitarian grounds and advice me to talk to AIR INDIA MANAGER ON DUTY. Yes, this is where the second fiasco starts. My flight to Delhi and on to Ahmedabad were both AIR INDIA. The manager is magnanimous to accomodate my preponement but cautions me that this arrangement was only till Delhi. He cannot guarantee the DEL- AMD confirmation. I call up my Travel Agent and vent my doubled up temper on him. I am not used to being snapped by people at fault. He plainly replies saying he cannot help at the given point of time. Roger....the tears brim up again.

By the time I board the flight I am exhausted and mentally drained. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I try my level best to stay awake but doze off god knows when. I am startled by the whimpering of a kid and wake up. Flight was to land at 4 and it is 4.15. Lost, I ask the air hostess who confirms we will land shortly. I am getting worried big time because my next flight (if i am lucky) is at 6.50.  I suddenly start feeling giddy, weak and sick. I want to throw up badly. I was the last one to get out of my flight despite the urgency cause I can barely stand. Under normal circumstances I would have surrendered to the air hostesses on board pleading them to somehow seat me in my next flight. But no, I have to arrange for my tickets. For those who have seen the Delhi Airport, it is massive. There is a good amount of distance between the domestic and international transfers. The AIR INDIA Team ensures I traverse the entire port at least twice for whatsoever reasons. They also see to it that I am handled in the most rude and unprofessional manner on display.  I am willing to pay, I am struggling to be calm and polite. I experiment all grandma's ways to counter rising temper.

Finally at 6 sharp I reach my stipulated gate all dog tired and feeling miserable. I locate a coffee point and gulp down two extra large cold coffees in one go to keep me awake and sane. " It is to inform all passengers that the AI 010 to Ahmedabad will be delayed by an hour and will now depart at 7.50" If I were dying that day that was the last nail in my coffin. I told my neighbour to wake me up when the flight arrives and close my eyes for some peace. Once on board I have someone else sitting on my seat. I seek help from the air hostess. The AI hostessess are all the age of my mothers minus the compassion and warmth. I tell one to wake me up on landing. Big Momma retaliates it is not her job. Oops the Maharaja!!! I forgot.

Hair and Their

What is the worst comment you could have ever received!! Think,.think, what..... you can't remember, SURPRISING. I believe the source of such negative comments should be flayed alive. Please listen to this before you form an opinion about me. A close colleague of mine today whilst we were in the middle of an interesting conversation pops out the most horrifying statement my ears would ever be subjected to. She said,"What is it with your hair style. It seems to resemble Sanjay Dutt so closely these days." I snapped an instant SHUT UP, and carried on the conversation like nothing had happened. But the comment infuriated me the entire day. So what if she were a good friend, so what if I had given her the liberty to pick up on me, so what if I have made some nasty remarks on her clothes choice in the past, truth always hurts. And this time it stuck like a poisoned arrow straight on my left.

The ever so conscious woman I am, I lost no time in rushing to the parlour for a hair session. I chose the best parlour in town to get my hair done. My seething soul could be comforted by nothing less than a compliment from the same source on the same subject. 

I enter the parlour and ask for the an expert in short hair. I judge the expertise of my stylist by the hair he/she keeps. This guy (I would call him BARBER hereon, you will know the reason soon) had hair the shape of a hive. They were such a curly mass as if it were handpicked and dumped on his head to rust forever there.  I chided myself for being judgemental. However the moment he rolled the scissor in my hair, I knew today and atleast a month straight I will have bad hair days. What came out was nothing Halle berry or Gul panag but if it has to be a star..........it was Salman khan of tere naam. Very confidently the barber asks me," Do you want me to dry your hair." Equally confident I shoot back, " Niether am I shooting for a shower scene, nor is your salon short of dryers." I am sure he got the sting cause he revenged it on my already ruined hair.

By the time I reversed my car I had tears in my eyes and had checked my hair in the rear view mirror a number close to the oldest person on earth. My ears were ringing with the sequel of the day's comment. I heard somewhere Sanjay Dutt and Salman Khan are close friends.

For the barber, I wish the salon would stop picking their so called stylists from under the old favorite Banyan Tree.

I am still furious.

Pain, how I know it

Today the pain is bad again. I have been through this before but that was long back. I thought I had conquered it. But no, it is as vulnerable, as fragile as a ligament, needs to be tended for life. I was trying the hit formula - pain shared is pain halved. To my dismay it doubled up, all those memories came flooding back. Endless nights of pillow sobbing, days of brooding, I thought had cured me of the ill. But no, it was always there, waiting for me to get weak.

I never talked of it because I thought it was silly to bring it up again and again. I was assured with years of endurance I had become emotionally and physically strong. Now when I look back I think confrontation would not have been a bad idea. It could have been a outlet for all that is simmering in. One major reason why I could not encroach the territory was I felt weak and timid. I was afraid I would relent and portray myself as a looser. I was wrong. Draining the dirt out is a viable option always.

Pain can be all sorts and colors. Emotional, physical, mental, all increasingly worse. They are differentiated by the cure, physical pain can be cured. Emotional needs you to cure it. It is more a matter of trial and error. Not necessary one tip fits all.

I am still lurking without success. The pain of letting go is scariest. Even the happy memories will make you sad. All one can do is keep evading till time shadows it. Ridding oneself of Pain is a lifetime engagement.

Nonetheless I am not a quitter either.

Dum Maro Dum

*** - gritty movie
Well...I do not have a reason why one should go and watch this thriller drama infused with hints of Indian melodrama. 

I was more drawn by the imposing Rana Daggubati and the sizzling item number. I came out of the theatre more glossy, glitzy and edgy. The movie held me back for the entire duration. The screenplay was definitely not a award winner. Despite the loose strings the actors managed to hold it there. Abhishek Bachchan suits in the role of a cop on a mission of cleaning Goa, Rana, the idealist Indian hero, who plays a singer in the movie, Bips does not have much to do but manages to impress, the heart goes out to Pratiek Babbar who has been trapped by the drug mafia and is on the verge of loosing his girlfriend and family.

The sun kissed beaches of Goa have been depicted as the hub of narcotics. Rohan Sippy has well captured the essence of national Party capital. The dialogues are snappy and the music hummable.

The movie is fit for people looking for a escape from the daily frenzy and wanting to just DUM MARO DUM.

Memoirs of a distressed soul

Since the last few days I have been planning to write my next blog. I was tied up not with the demands of business, rather to the current frame of my mind.  How I recalled the subject of this blog is an interesting story. I was chatting to an old friend in the morning. She brought up the subject of memory lapse saying this morning she was about to put lipstick in her eyes.

You guessed it right!!! Off late I have taken on to forgetting. I pick up an idea only to forget it in seconds. The spell is causing me a lot of troubles and is a source of embarassement in many a situations.

Just today I wore my chappals on my business suit and walked till the parking. It was only when I kick started my bike that I realised my blunder. By the time I went up again and reached office I was late for my meeting. I was mortified to hear my boss ask What was it that I forgot this day.

I can also attribute my latest mania to the company of humans surrounding me. While writing the blog I thought it would take the lime light off me if I include the anecdotes of my friends as well. I turned to two of my 'friends in need' to bail me out. Now it would not be out of order to mention that these women have always proved handy in saving my distressed soul. I wrote to both of them to narrate similar incidents. Here I am waiting and waiting without any reply. I pick up my phone and take them to task for delaying the reply. To much of my chagrin one of them admits to have had ample of such situations but now she has simply forgotten about them. And the other even better forgot to check her inbox post the beep.

The ailment is taking me places- I have been forgetting important dates (including my sister's bday), appointments (one to the doctor for the same not ruled out), routine chores (as daily as eating lunch, brushing teeth and the worst wearing shirt under my coat).

I have tried all advices made to me right from eating almonds to concentrating on a point on the wall opposite my chair. Yeah.....that was the weirdest of all and my team next door thought I had forgotten to move. I know you are having a hearty laugh at the cost of a poor me, but mind it, some of the celebrated glitterati knew the same pain. Albert Einstien is well renowned for his forgetfulness. He would forget umbrellas, dates and many more. Marlyn Monroe, the heartthrob, would forget her lines, schedules, even her love intrests at times. The reads have been enough to console and raise my bruised spirit. Forgetting the trivia gives one more brain space for logic and rationale.

However one interesting thing that has happened to me amidst all this forgetting business is.......is.........is..........err....ummmm.....guess I will mention it in the next blog.

Sshhhh, please don't tell anyone I again forgot.

No lights, no camera....all action

Last few days were big time action for me on all fronts.

For those who follow the news channels, there was a spark in the sauna of my hotel which fired big time sarkari halla. Hotel was sealed for 2 days. We were all out enjoying the Indian victory of the cup that counts. Readers need not be amazed at my indifference, I was always sure of hotel coming back with a bang......gave me the much needed break in between.

The hotel opened with the big shots of area office paying a flying visit, an enquiry of a hotel colleague calling some unknown girl at midnight from the hotel landline and an accident of a fellow colleague. Too much happening within days. No wonder we are planning a pooja to settle our planetary confusions ;). Amidst all this, one person who failed to sympathize with my back to back schedule was my mother. She could not have chosen a better time to line up two prospective grooms for her daughter.  As is true of all mothers they pick up timings with sigma precision. The will constantly nag you till such time as you either select or reject the prospects.

Make a choice, O Mortal, for thy cord is attached to thy mother. What options do you have.....jobs may be countless but not the other way round. As is expected of all obedient girls I still found time to stand all questions which are the plight of a girl my age. Note few of them along with my answers

• What are your expectations of a life partner? I am expecting a Richard Gere in BMW, if you are not, F*** off. But all I utter is no expectations, they ruin the joy. Nonsenssee
• What do you do if you see me with a girl after marriage? Bullshit.......you will keep searching me for a answer. I choose to say.....I will wait for you to tell me, I am not the type.
• Do you expect gifts on all silly occasions? Are you doubtful of me being a girl......I already have my list ready. I plead...no no they are all waste of money, I prefer saving them for future. (there is no future without a gift)
• This is the wierdest of all....how many pair of sandals do you have? Oh.....just one and that is the truth. I am waiting for money inflow from the other side to fill my cupboard geeee.

All this and many more. I am now a certified champ of " How to get a no from a husband you don't want".

Through the entire saga of drama one good thing I managed was ' F.A.L.T.U.' A film that deals with a cliche subject but a novel execution. Some fresh faces and refreshing music. I loved it to the core. The climax seemed a little too abrupt with the education minister announcing the recognition of Fakirchand and lakirchand trust university at a college function. When did the Indian bureaucracy become that magnanimous and effecient. Probably I was contrasting it with the sarkari bugger who tore my hotel's fire license amidst much of media frenzy to the endless chorus of 'ENCORE'. It was akin to Poonam pandey strip act post the world cup. No one ever got to saw it. It took us two days and countless pair of Bata shoes to get it back. Of course did not get to see a single media coverage of the hotel being reopened. Probably the media was on a long break post the barrage of negative publicity they honored us with on the short ' short circuit' in the Sauna.

I care two hoots......am too busy singing

' Aaltu jalal tu, ayi bala ko taal tu'

tension vension chod de bachcha,

ho ja fully FALTU'

1 khoon or wo bhi maaf

It is not daily that I have this intense desire to murder people around. No, I am not a psycopath on run, but how do you justify hard earned money lost on some horrible flick that was awaited for soooo long. The movie tickets were not so expensive but tickets half used.......irk.

Me and my folks stole some important time from work to watch Saat khoon maaf. The first five minutes....and we were looking left right centre wondering if we were the only ones seething with anger for the entire crew of the film. It could have been a experimental genre, but is there no law on experiments going haywire!!! Such backfiring inventions should never be allowed to see daylight. Eureka!! now I realise why the entire movie was shot in the dark.

How can someone marry the first person at sight.....is it a gun point swayamavar, we are talking about. The canvas of the movie is as diverse as the Food court of delhi haat. From a possesive one legged army man to an old fashioned natural pharmacist.......she tries em all. She even tries out her godson for that matter. God must have stopped producing such unfortunate women around .....seven husbands and none of them work. Aren't we living in an age of tough competition where everything comes guaranteed and can be exchanged failing to work. Her husbands were not even chinese.

Gee.........jokes apart.......the movie tests your patience like the promises of a parent to a kid. It is a truly disappointing venture on part of Vishal Bhardwaj. No mercy Vishal......they are all out there to murder you.

Valentine's day

I feel like a million tonight…….one at a time please!!

These words aptly describe the sense of euphoria engulfing every youth on the eve of Valentine’s Day.
St. Valentine was truly a saint to fill the world with so much of love in one single day trespassing all boundaries across all nations.

I choose this day to write a letter to my Valentine. I am not a big fan of open letters but this one is from all those out there who are afraid of falling in love just because of the sheer abundance of product and subsequent duplicity.


Dear Valentine

Let me begin with I like you. I like you because it is too early for me to fall in love. I know what it is all about. Yeah sure every time I see you my knees go weak, I have butterflies in my stomach, my entire anatomy goes haywire. More still all those sexy flicks do an action replay in my mind with both of us in lead roles. Exactly, any mad person can see it is love. But I choose to deny it. Denial is the best form of aversion.

You want to know why…. I am afraid we are here just because it is a Valentine’s night. You needed someone to enjoy the day and celebrate the night with. Probably you do it every year. Believe me, this is the first time for me. The V day is not a big deal but you definitely are.

Throughout my growing years I have seen enough such days. My conclusion, if heart breaks were to be numbered we would need to reinvent exactly three times more the count known to mankind today. For every successful Valentine there are five more who need counseling and days of attention.

All this just because we have so much of love to give that it could be taken up as full time employment or business…. Pyaar do Pyaar lo.

However I am willing to give it a try. Share markets have taught me, ‘ the more the risks the better the returns. I am willing to invest monetarily in all those silly cakes, flowers, gifts and physically in all those French kisses, Spanish body caresses, English seductions.

Anyways while we are here let me tell you my story of true love. I met him at a common friend’s place. I never believed in love at first sight before that, just could not take my eyes off him. How playful he was, making everyone around him laugh, giggle and utter words of affection. When it came to his looks he was tanned, well built for those of his age and above all had eyes which captured. We have been together ever since.
I hug him to sleep every night and he kisses me morning every day. There has not been a single instance when we fought because we trust each other blindly. A slight headache for me and he is by my bedside the entire night. He can’t see me upset. He hesitates the least in picking up fights with people who do that to me. I can spend my entire life in his eyes for I see so much of myself there. The world jibes at me for our mutual admiration. Can’t help….love is blind.

Jealous, confused!! Please don’t be. Of course, I was preaching the need for one love and no, I am not two timing you. It’s just that there are times when I feel the need for a man or else I could spend my entire life with a Dog….bosco, the only steady man in my life.

Why can’t we all take back some learning from these silent creatures? Neither are they human nor are they literate but aren’t they better off.

Don’t love me for fun, let me be the only one.

Love me for a reason, let the reason be love.

P.S. For every instance of trust that you plant I will return heaps of love.


Lovingly yours

Valentine- today, tomorrow and forever.

Incredible India

This R- Day was an eventful day for me. The adventures began right from the clock ticking 12 midnight. The entire day gave me a number of reasons to be proud of the country envisioned by the likes of B.R. Ambedkar. 

I was to catch a train at 1 AM to my home town from Kota. Since I had my reservation in AC coach I did not carry any woollens with me and reached the station at 12.30 AM. No sooner had I located my platform that the divine voice boomed : "Train No. ......is late by 50 minutes. The inconvinience caused is deeply regreted". Here I was right in the middle of the night, at the corner of the station awaiting a delayed train clutching my bag to my body to save me from the harsh winter. I located a coffee kiosk nearby and bought myself one. The warmth of coffee reminded me of an old book - tea coffee or me. I just had coffee :( The clock struck 2 and the train was still awaited when the heavenly voice boomed again : " Train No..........is late by 1 hr 20 minutes. The inconvinience caused is deeply regreted". I swear to devil I have never cursed the power of speech more. Finally my train arrived at 3.30 AM and I boarded.

Scene 2: I have reached Udaipur at 9.00 AM in the morning and have to catch a bus to Ahmedabad at 4.00 PM in the evening. Before that I have to take my pneumonia ailing mother to a Doctor. I take her to the Doc at 12.00 cause the appointment is for 12.15. We wait in the long que wondering if all these people are before us or after us in line. At around 1.00 PM the patience of one patient is lost (wonder if patient was derived from patience) and he rings the bell. His plea for consultation is met by a ferocious looking Mrs. Doctor who barks saying "Doctor Sahab (not sure why all Doctor wives add that suffix.....we never wish to address them so) has some urgent work and hence he will not come to clinic today". Wow!!! we have even started celebrating a Doctor's day now....what more do they want from us. I take my mother back home promising her a telephonic consultation with a better doctor.

Scene 3 : It is 3.30 PM and I have left for the bus station. My colleague's family comes to pick me up as both of us are leaving for Ahmedabad together. On a very safe crossroad a biker comes zooming past and bangs in our car. BOOM!!! I am out of the BB IM chat sessions. I look up to find a tall black sloshed man with blood shot eyes and a cut on the lower lip picking up a fight with my colleague's dad. Like every other roadside drama there is a huge jam and a crowd of onlookers debating on the follies of rash driving. The drunk fellow has entered in a scuffle with the senior citizen and is abusing him physically and verbally. The traffic police present on the spot is very diligently performing their duties. One is picking up the motor bike to park it on the side and the other one is instructing my colleague's wife to take the car on the side. I shout at the policemen to do a better job of controlling the harassement. Boy oh!!! Did I shout at Indian police, I every bit deserve the 'daggers in the eye' cold stare. Some wise man is calling up the ' actual police'. 10 minutes have passed to the entire episode and we are all sitting locked inside the car surrounded by 'his' men (The gracious traffic police advised us so). Finally the police van arrives and murmurs something in uncle's ear. Uncle nods and asks the son to drive to the police station. I am lost and out of league. The idea given to us by the policeman is to mark an attendance in the station and that should pacify the other party. What's the harm. Yeah!!! what's the harm if that helps us in catching the bus on time. Finally we board the bus at 4.30 and heave a sigh of relief. Hang on!!! if I thought I could catch my breath I was seriously mistaken. The driver was a 'chela' of Rajnikanth. Yenna Rascala.....how dare any heavy vehicle shoot past me.... Iy yam tha fastesta. The entire stretch of 350 kms I sat with my heart in my throat telling god how much I love my family and how much would my mom love to see me getting married and produce babies. He owes at least this much to my parents.

I reached ahmedabad at 9.30 PM with a splitting head ache and a parched throat. Hardly did I realise I had not gulped a single drop of water in the six hours journey. I reach home, wash down a few Dispirins and fall flat on my bed.

HAPPY REPUBLIC DAY

Old is Bold

The rarest thing in the world is a woman who is pleased with her photographs..........

unless it is an acclaimed Fashion photographer.

I was watching some movie awards the other night (can't recall the name, they are all that floods the prime time on weekends). Do remember vividly Sharukh and Shahid calling yesteryear's starlets on stage and wooing them. Amongst those who graced the stage were Hema Malini, Zeenat, Rekha etc, all an eternal saga of beauty, poise and command. They came, they saw, they conquered. I was trying to unravel the antics of Rekha. I could read Seduction loud and bold in her eyes. For whom.....men half her age, married!!! I have always admired this bold, enigmatic and beautiful lass who has stood for herself time and again. She has defied time and moved on. However there has to be a line for defying age. I have always been intrigued by women who have stolen themselves from time and yet have played their age. We can all bank upon the ever so gorgeous Lady Diana or back home Maharani Gayatri Devi.

Age is just a number game for celebrating days. There is nothing that it puts a stop to. Women at the other side of 40s are more governed by what they have lost at the prime of their youth. They spend most of their time in running after the bygone temptations. They keep the flames alive little realising it is burning their hearts.

One particular incident that would be very much of interest here is of a close friend who is well past the hay days. A younger colleague would flirt shamelessly with her, his maneuvers returned at par by her. When confronted by me saying she better put a stop to all this as she was 'old' for him, I could not help getting super impressed by her answer. " Oh forget it!! He is too young for me" and she walked off. I have seen innumerable instances when women take pride in wearing their ages on their sleeves. At every chance they will flaunt it like an artifact of antique concern.

Time cannot be conquered, all one can do is hold hands and be on the same side. I will give anything to be in the league of these new ageless damsels who are no longer afraid to turn old and talk about the pleasures of the age. I have already started practising only to be chided by my friends who say ' I am too young for that'.

Whoever said Age was just a number game :)

My first and the best

Someone once asked me " Who is the inspiration behind the lines". I smiled and cut him short

I still don't know who killed Jessica!!

***1/2
Months of eagerness+ well built excitement+ days of persuasion= 2 hours of 'Much ado about nothing. It leaves the veiwers impressed but with the comment 'it could have been better'.

The movie is nothing minus Rani, once in, during the next half she holds the plot strong and does not let it slip. Guys, go watch it for her. She has lot of Oomph as a jaded profane Meera Gaity, the flashiest in the entire movie.Gals, you will not be able help watch the movie with a green eye. (I love the coinage)

The first half of movie fails to grab attention. A bespectacled and sombre Vidya in shapeless shirts with a stoop is a complete disaster. From the scream straight out of lungs in the hospital till the visibly rehersed 'Jess was my sister' it is all forced. She better lets her body speak as a traumatized, anguished Sabrina, Jessica's sister whose life revolves around ailing parents and denied justice.

Though the movie is from the eyes of two women- determined and gutsy Sabrina and the straight forward, cuss spouting TV journo, some significant roles have been well essayed by the defending laywer, no prizes for guessing the accented hindi, the dutiful cop who accepts bribe for not beating the accused in custody (though he fights for justice till the end) and the newcomer Myra who plays the effervescent Jessica. The politicians in the film are boorish and the Page 3 society a tad too effete.

Still Rajkumar Gupta has dished out a delicious flavorsome delicacy. The film however could have been made attractive with a little garnishing. Please do not forget Amit trivedi for the spunky metallic tracks Dilli Dilli and Aali re.

All in all the movie opens the 2011 calender for Bollywood with a loud bang if not a earsplitting one. And yeah!! has all the potential to 'Fly Solo' :)