Busy as a B...

If someone were to tell a twelve year old me that I would be this busy as at this age, she have laughed at them. It wouldn't be much different if you asked the eighteen year old me... Or even the twenty three year old me. Heck, the 27 year old me would have laughed the hardest.

I've always wanted to be my own boss so that I could do what I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. Because I like doing many different things.

But now that I am my own boss and I get to do everything that I want to, the twelve, eighteen, twenty three and twenty seven year old me couldn't have been more wrong.

I am not a hard working person. I take my time with things and don't always take the extra effort. One may even call me lazy and I couldn't care less. But I do take what I really like doing quite seriously... Without taking myself too seriously. And as I mentioned earlier, I like doing many things. Sometimes all at once. And I love every minute of it.

But this month has been like nothing I've experience before. And it's just not ending! Between work, teaching, site visits in the city and outside, workshops and extra sessions and many such activities, I've been having really long days doing too many things! One might even say I'm working hard, but I still believe I'm not. I've been on the edge most of the time and loving every minute of this too, but I wish I had some of the blank spaces to recharge my mind to avoid burning out or even lashing out on unsuspecting friends and family. I've had to pass up a few interesting opportunities and may need to give up a few more temporarily. It's not going to be easy. 

This post is a long overdue acknowledgement of this fact.

Humour me

I thought I should read some new funny fiction books so I went on goodreads and checked their readers choice 'best of humour 2017' list. I was disappointed as all of the books featured on the list were memoirs/essay collections written by TV personalities and comedians! Not a single humour fiction book!

Then I checked lists from the previous years. Found it the same. I found a few fiction humour books in the 2014 list though.

So does that mean no one writes humour fiction anymore? No, I'm sure people still write many funny fiction books. But what sells is whatever TV comics write. Doesn't mean what they write isn't funny. it's highly engaging and observational. But it fits a pattern which I've only inferred from my limited exposure to this genre, so I might be wrong. But they are relatable because we see them and we know them. We can put a face, a voice and a personality to the writing and one doesn't have to use too much imagination. Easy and fun. Perfect reading for your daily commute.

I do like reading humour fiction. And apart from the classics, every once in a while I come across gems like 'Look who's back' and 'The Martian' (which is more hard science fiction than humour.) Which makes me think... Why don't they have a separate sub-genre for Fiction humour just like they have science fiction, fantasy fiction, historical fiction, young adult fiction, young adult fantasy and science fiction and romance. Shouldn't those most funny non fiction book be under 'Memoirs'? They may have to add a new genre called 'Memoirs humour'. A mess of genres but what fantastic and precise categorisation at the same time!

Cause and effect

It's strange what can affect you. At times the most gruesome/sad human interest story can't make you feel much, but a story about Polar Bears starving because of climate change can wrench your heart. Like someone has given you unimaginable pain.

All that anger, frustration and heartache comes out an one single instant and it's quite uncontrollable. And for that moment, I'm quite inconsolable. I blame myself for this. For the dying polar bear and for not feeling much.

Or not being able to express my feelings for people.

Crush and chop

All these years I've been chopping garlic cloves tediously. And even though I knew how it was done, only recently have I started crushing garlic cloves with the flat surface of the knife before chopping them. 
Wonder what took me so long?

Flying solo

I dream a lot. During when I'm awake and also when I'm asleep. When I'm awake, dreaming is it's equivalent to rambling, but I still control what I dream about. Whereas I have absolutely no control over what I dream of when I'm asleep. I have written about my dreams before. But last night out of the blue I dreamt of taking flying lessons for my private pilot's license. And I didn't see me actually flying a plane, just the awareness that I was taking flying lessons!

Strange right? Where did that come from? 

Well recently, my mom told me that she hopes some day I, her daughter - get to take flying lessons and get to fly a plane.

And that was exactly what I was planning to do in my dream. Now, I really want to get a private pilot's license. Yes, it must be expensive and we're not even talking about owning a small plane, but some day in the not so distant future... I must.

Women's issues.

A currently unemployed friend said she got an offer on linkedin from a company based in Saudi Arabia. Another friend adviced that she shouldn't take it. 'It's a very bad situation for women over there.' She said.

Which got me thinking as to why and how women still lived in Saudi Arabia?

But then I wondered if women in US and Europe thought the same about us here in India?

Ten years younger.

Playing sports with someone ten years younger than you is not that big a deal. It's not. One can match their game and stamina, and even their speed and all your extra experience comes in handy.

But it's only after the game that you start seeing the difference between the two of you. Yes, one might be in good shape and all that, but it's easy to see how fast these youngsters recover.

I'm not just finding this out today, though. Few years ago I used to regularly go for a yoga class for kids. The kind of kids who can't even stand still for ten seconds. Yes I did all that yoga with them and felt great! But while I hopped onto my cycle to go back home and eat something after the class, these kids just hopped on their cycles to go to the playground to play till their parents dragged them back home with the kids often kicking and screaming. Maybe I could too, but it would just not be the same.

This was quite apparent during my MMA lessons too. But obviously these kids had been training much before I started (hey, it's a valid excuse.) They have this energy, vigour and aggression I remember having in my late teens till much after my mid twenties as well. Unfortunately, I was much older than most of them and had lost my aggressive streak and got nicely beaten up during most of my sparring sessions.

I played badminton for an hour with a girl ten years younger than me today. And although I matched her game and speed, I was reminded of this very feeling.

*Bump*

As I got into the car to drive back home last evening, I saw a white Audi A3 parked parallel to it. Fortunately no one had parked in front of my car so I was able to steer off without having to look for the owner of the A3 and make him move his car. (writing this, realisation strikes me that Audi named a car after a paper size. Heh heh heh)

So today morning I saw an open parking spot which was right in front of the same white Audi A3. As I was preparing to park at the same spot a bizarre thought crept into my mind. If I was an absent minded driver and was parking my car in front and reversing it into place, I could easily bump into the front of the A3. As it happens, I am no absent minded driver and take pride in my above average parking skills.

Even laughed in my mind at that absurd little scenario. But as I was reversing the car into place laughing at my silly imagination, the very thing I was mocking happened- I, the alert driver who takes pride in her above average parking skills lost track of my judgement and ever so lightly bumped my car into the front of the Audi A3.

Chowk.

An electrician who works with us called me today. We had sent him to get some LED profile lights for a project. He called me saying 'Usme chowk dikh raha hai'

I was stumped. I kept saying 'ah Achcha....um... dekhna padega' etc trying to make sense of what he meant. Was he at the wrong place and looking at the Chowk where the shop was located? Was he talking about a box fitting? What exactly did he mean Chowk, and why would an electrician call me up about a city Chowk?!

What he actually meant that the CHOKE of the profile light was seen.

You see, I'd never heard him talk about chokes till date. He had always written it in our bills/estimated, but I never knew what he called them. I wonder what the electrician must be thinking. 'Kya architect hai... Itna bhi samajh nahi aata...'

It took me thirty seconds to realise what he meant. thirty seconds of stalling in a phone call is an excruciatingly long time!

I fell asleep listening to music again...

And that got me thinking... I've never been able to describe my perfect man, but I think I finally have it:

Kinda brilliant, right?

Walkie TAAQies

Like so many of my thoughts, this one started with me listening to some music.

In this case, the trigger was TAAQ. 

I had the urge to listen to this Bangalore based Alt rock band's music this afternoon and I didn't have any of their albums on my computer, so I logged on to their website to stream their music. It had been a while since I did and reading through their updated content I realised they have a strong connection to Bangalore and their identity and music strongly revolves around the city. However, I'd not heard of them pre 2008 and never had any Bangalore connection except a few friends who lived there and only visited them once. I had a limited connection to the indi rock music scene in India till then. I was more of a mainstream music person.

Then in 2008, I met Praveen. The quintessential Bangalore boy. Software, bikes, music and guitar. Needless to say, we were fond of each other... for a while. And then a year later we weren't. Eventually when the smoke of a burnt relationship clears and the dust settles, one doesn't remember the person but the charred impression of the value they added to your life. Undoubtedly, music was the most important part of his contribution to mine. He introduced me to the indi rock music scene. To blues rock, indi and mainstream. To places where all the shows took place before high spirits and blue frog, many of which closed down not too much after that. To bands like Soulmate and TAAQ and so many of their live performances. 

On my part, I introduced him to musicians, bands and music I knew, and together we were this repository of rich, curiously amazing music which has the ultimate power to warm up my cold heart in many a dark winter evenings. Too poetic? I'm not waxing eloquent, it really does.

No, I don't miss him. But I miss the company of someone who can add such kind of a dimension to my life.

And as I listen to 'this is it' by Thermal and a quarter (because apparently they are three mallus and a one who is quarter mallu) I remembered a conversation Praveen, a friends of his called Arindam and I had while we were driving to a very strange local folk-blues-country band gig at Stone water grill. I remember it so vividly because I drew it.

I'm a feminist... But who's asking?

Yes, it depends on who's asking.

So I am your average feminist. One who champions for the cause of equality for all genders without forgetting that men and women are inherently different. Which doesn't mean that both genders can't do the same things, it just means we do the same thing in different ways. Sometimes, it's not just about genders. It depends on a person's temperament.

So I am not your average feminist. One who champions for the cause of equality for all genders without forgetting that men and women are inherently different. Which doesn't mean that both genders can't do the same things, it just means we do the same thing in different ways. Sometimes, it's not just about genders. It depends on a person's temperament.

So it all comes down to the so called 'gender roles.' One is expected to behave in certain ways because it's expected of their genders. We are conditioned. 'It's not lady like'

'Don't cry, sissy.'

Women are never denied expressing emotions since their childhood because they are expected to. 

Men are supposed to be tough! (They will never know how good a solid session of crying feels. Just relieves the stress and tension)

Now we all know where this attitude has come from and hopefully, how we can change it. 

But do we? 

Nah, we just talk.