Rajrupa Gupta's Blog

Read about the first day at the Grand Canyons here.
The second day of the vacation dawned bright and early. We’d be visiting the Horse Shoe Bend, Antelope Canyons and the lake Powell today. Our vacation was planned thick with activities and a lot of ground covering each day.
For the husband and the official photographer, this was the most anticipated day of the entire vacation. He’d made it known many times to the entire group. While the rest of us were still reeling from last night’s fatigue, he was the first one ready to get going in the morning. Shaved, showered and dressed, before I was even up.
After the dinner fiasco the previous night, we were extra careful about our breakfast. We had another long day ahead of us, and we needed the fuel of food to sustain us till the end of the day. Thankfully the complimentary breakfast at the hotel turned out to be of high quality. We stuffed ourselves with eggs, waffles and turkey sausages.
The horse shoe bend was literally at a stone throw distance from the hotel. We’d seen many beautiful photos of this place and now were eager to see for ourselves. We literally ran the ¾ mile uphill hike. The desert stretched everywhere. The small bushes that grew here and there made it look like a massive polka dotted sheet spread over the earth. 
The sun burned hot on our backs as we looked down the cliff finally.
The river Colorado flowed 1000 feet below. I could not believe that this tiny river was once powerful enough to cut through the canyons and form such a dramatic landscape. AB even found a few campers down on the river bank.
While we were scared to go too far near the stiff cliff, a group of teenagers sat there with their feet dangling! Reckless they were but I envied them their courage.
Our next stop was the Antelope Canyons. Driving through the rough and uneven Navajo Reservation when we reached the place it was a little before noon. We’d booked a tour of the lower canyons. Our tour guide Vans, of the Navajo, told us the story of the canyons, while we waited outside patiently for our turn to enter the depth of the canyons.

Hundreds of years ago a big herd of pronghorn Antelopes lived in these canyons. They roamed freely inside these canyons and grazed. That is how the canyons got its English name. The entire region was divided into two distinct sections: the upper Antelope canyons and the lower Antelope canyons. Thousands of years of rain water seeped though the sand rocks and created this unique structures. Narrow passages, the sculpted walls and the play of light and shade – no wonder it was considered one of the 8 wonders on the world. It was impossible to take a bad picture there.

The ancient Navajo tribe used these canyons for hiding and hunting. It was also the home for their fertility deity. It was a sacred place. Even today the guides pray to the spirits of the canyons before entering inside. Vans did too, he prayed for our safety.
For it is dangerous inside. Flash floods are common occurrence. “When you see water inside you run, you run as fast as you can!” he said. Water comes like a whirlpool and in minutes fills the canyon up. Five years ago, he showed us the memorial, twelve people of a tour similar to ours, died in a flash flood inside the canyons. Seven of them were a family from France.
It turned out Vans was a great photographer too.
And he showed us two footmarks! Of dinosaurs!
As we said goodbye to him and started toward the lake Powell, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from returning to that magical place! I wanted to go back to the canyons immediately. I loved the Antelope canyons.
But the lake Powell took my breath away. Our cruise moved slowly through the narrow passage between the vertical walls and I wanted to cry, from too much liking. The afternoon sun had given in to grey clouds, bringing in a cooler front with them. The water looked like a rippling sheet of dull grey steel. We spotted a few shapes of flat headed sharks distinctly pressed into the rocks. While we were contemplating if there were ever sharks here, and if those were fossils, the captain of the cruise told no. They were natural shapes formed by water cutting into the rocks. 

The eerie beauty of the place is impossible to describe in words.
The sun had set and we were exhausted and yet we had two more hours to travel to Zion, UT. Where we’d rest for the night and then move on to yet another adventure the next day.
Love,

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

Read about the first day at the Grand Canyons here.
The second day of the vacation dawned bright and early. We’d be visiting the Horse Shoe Bend, Antelope Canyons and the lake Powell today. Our vacation was planned thick with activities and a lot of ground covering each day.
For the husband and the official photographer, this was the most anticipated day of the entire vacation. He’d made it known many times to the entire group. While the rest of us were still reeling from last night’s fatigue, he was the first one ready to get going in the morning. Shaved, showered and dressed, before I was even up.
After the dinner fiasco the previous night, we were extra careful about our breakfast. We had another long day ahead of us, and we needed the fuel of food to sustain us till the end of the day. Thankfully the complimentary breakfast at the hotel turned out to be of high quality. We stuffed ourselves with eggs, waffles and turkey sausages.
The horse shoe bend was literally at a stone throw distance from the hotel. We’d seen many beautiful photos of this place and now were eager to see for ourselves. We literally ran the ¾ mile uphill hike. The desert stretched everywhere. The small bushes that grew here and there made it look like a massive polka dotted sheet spread over the earth. 
The sun burned hot on our backs as we looked down the cliff finally.
The river Colorado flowed 1000 feet below. I could not believe that this tiny river was once powerful enough to cut through the canyons and form such a dramatic landscape. AB even found a few campers down on the river bank.
While we were scared to go too far near the stiff cliff, a group of teenagers sat there with their feet dangling! Reckless they were but I envied them their courage.
Our next stop was the Antelope Canyons. Driving through the rough and uneven Navajo Reservation when we reached the place it was a little before noon. We’d booked a tour of the lower canyons. Our tour guide Vans, of the Navajo, told us the story of the canyons, while we waited outside patiently for our turn to enter the depth of the canyons.

Hundreds of years ago a big herd of pronghorn Antelopes lived in these canyons. They roamed freely inside these canyons and grazed. That is how the canyons got its English name. The entire region was divided into two distinct sections: the upper Antelope canyons and the lower Antelope canyons. Thousands of years of rain water seeped though the sand rocks and created this unique structures. Narrow passages, the sculpted walls and the play of light and shade – no wonder it was considered one of the 8 wonders on the world. It was impossible to take a bad picture there.

The ancient Navajo tribe used these canyons for hiding and hunting. It was also the home for their fertility deity. It was a sacred place. Even today the guides pray to the spirits of the canyons before entering inside. Vans did too, he prayed for our safety.
For it is dangerous inside. Flash floods are common occurrence. “When you see water inside you run, you run as fast as you can!” he said. Water comes like a whirlpool and in minutes fills the canyon up. Five years ago, he showed us the memorial, twelve people of a tour similar to ours, died in a flash flood inside the canyons. Seven of them were a family from France.
It turned out Vans was a great photographer too.
And he showed us two footmarks! Of dinosaurs!
As we said goodbye to him and started toward the lake Powell, I couldn’t stop my thoughts from returning to that magical place! I wanted to go back to the canyons immediately. I loved the Antelope canyons.
But the lake Powell took my breath away. Our cruise moved slowly through the narrow passage between the vertical walls and I wanted to cry, from too much liking. The afternoon sun had given in to grey clouds, bringing in a cooler front with them. The water looked like a rippling sheet of dull grey steel. We spotted a few shapes of flat headed sharks distinctly pressed into the rocks. While we were contemplating if there were ever sharks here, and if those were fossils, the captain of the cruise told no. They were natural shapes formed by water cutting into the rocks. 

The eerie beauty of the place is impossible to describe in words.
The sun had set and we were exhausted and yet we had two more hours to travel to Zion, UT. Where we’d rest for the night and then move on to yet another adventure the next day.
Love,

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

The tickets were booked, accommodation arranged and rides reserved. But for some reason we were not feeling worked up. Looking forward but not really leaning in. We’d been to the New York City just the other weekend and it was hard to summon enough energy. Lethargy was kicking in after a hectic summer that ours was.
We packed our bags the last moment, literally dragging ourselves off the couch, because we could not put it off longer. And this happened -
Don’t forget to pack the shoes! Expect a lot of walking!And hats and sunscreen! Oh! The bottle’s exhausted. Can you please run to CVS and get some?
Not feeling like! Shall we get some once we get there?
Okay! Are you packing shorts?
Yes! You?
Yes!
So we, two brave souls, packed our shorts for our canyon trip without a bottle of sunscreen!
Friday, the first day of our trip was mostly driving. We started from Denver, CO and aimed to reach Moab, UT and break our journey there for the night. In the meanwhile, caught up with suddenly having twenty-six hours in the day (flying from the north-east corner of the country to the mountains in the west does that!), and the rainy mountain roads, and the darkest skies and the very blinking Milky Way we comfortably forgot that we didn’t have the sunscreen yet! Oh, and the awesome looking waitress at the local restaurant we stopped for our dinner. We all thought she suited better walking the ramps than waiting tables pulling night-shifts! Photo Courtesy: My iPhoneIt was only the next day when all the fun began! We drove straight five hours from Moab, UT to Grand Canyon, AZ, stopping only once for gas in a small local gas station. And drank their coffee! And was taken aback. It was nothing like coffee we were used to drinking. When we asked, we were given a toothy smile and informed that it was true “Indian” coffee! Native American that is. It was distinctly different in the aroma and taste, something I am okay not to try again!

We reached the Grand Canyon around noon. Our vacation officially began. The first view took my breath away. To imagine that a river as narrow as a ribbon with hardly any current was responsible for it, was almost impossible. The smooth sand rocks, its shadow on itself, in an eternal siesta under the burning sun for a few million years. No human can stand there and not feel goose bumps! And this is where I got my lost energy back too! We still didn’t have the sunscreen but suddenly it was no longer an issue. The Grand Canyon The ribbon like river Colorado

 The river Colorado, eerily stagnant and strangely silent. Almost as if resting after creating this spectacle working relentlessly for five million years!

Despite several warnings to avoid driving during the night, we took the risk. Because my in-house photographer (Trolls, please excuse! He is my husband too!) said he was not going to miss the sunset in the canyons. And the reward was this.

The roads afterwards were empty and we glided through pretty uneventfully. We didn’t see any wildlife on the roads, as others had said we would, well, apart from an Elk family. No pictures here, as we were holding the edge of our seats, biting our lips and waiting for more to emerge, all the while remembering the movie - The Ring. Only to realize later that those were moose in the movie and not elks! 
The first day of our vacation drew to a close on a very high note. It would have been perfect even, had we not gone to the Deny’s opposite our hotel in Page, AZ to have our dinner. The Salmon they served us must have died around the same time the canyons started forming. Without going into any more details, I’d just say that I’d never look at buttered toasts the same way again. They were our saving grace at the end of a long grueling day!
The next daywould be yet another chapter in our novel-of-a-vacation to the canyonland.

Disclaimer: All images appearing in this blogpost are taken by the in-house photographer who prides himself as my husband. I am eternally grateful to him for capturing our vacation so wonderfully.

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

The tickets were booked, accommodation arranged and rides reserved. But for some reason we were not feeling worked up. Looking forward but not really leaning in. We’d been to the New York City just the other weekend and it was hard to summon enough energy. Lethargy was kicking in after a hectic summer that ours was.
We packed our bags the last moment, literally dragging ourselves off the couch, because we could not put it off longer. And this happened -
Don’t forget to pack the shoes! Expect a lot of walking!
And hats and sunscreen! Oh! The bottle’s exhausted. Can you please run to CVS and get some?
Not feeling like! Shall we get some once we get there?
Okay! Are you packing shorts?
Yes! You?
Yes!
So we, two brave souls, packed our shorts for our canyon trip without a bottle of sunscreen!
Friday, the first day of our trip was mostly driving. We started from Denver, CO and aimed to reach Moab, UT and break our journey there for the night. In the meanwhile, caught up with suddenly having twenty-six hours in the day (flying from the north-east corner of the country to the mountains in the west does that!), and the rainy mountain roads, and the darkest skies and the very blinking Milky Way we comfortably forgot that we didn’t have the sunscreen yet! Oh, and the awesome looking waitress at the local restaurant we stopped for our dinner. We all thought she suited better walking the ramps than waiting tables pulling night-shifts! Photo Courtesy: My iPhoneIt was only the next day when all the fun began! We drove straight five hours from Moab, UT to Grand Canyon, AZ, stopping only once for gas in a small local gas station. And drank their coffee! And was taken aback. It was nothing like coffee we were used to drinking. When we asked, we were given a toothy smile and informed that it was true “Indian” coffee! Native American that is. It was distinctly different in the aroma and taste, something I am okay not to try again!

We reached the Grand Canyon around noon. Our vacation officially began. The first view took my breath away. To imagine that a river as narrow as a ribbon with hardly any current was responsible for it, was almost impossible. The smooth sand rocks, its shadow on itself, in an eternal siesta under the burning sun for a few million years. No human can stand there and not feel goose bumps! And this is where I got my lost energy back too! We still didn’t have the sunscreen but suddenly it was no longer an issue. The Grand Canyon The ribbon like river Colorado

 The river Colorado, eerily stagnant and strangely silent. Almost as if resting after creating this spectacle working relentlessly for five million years!

Despite several warnings to avoid driving during the night, we took the risk. Because my in-house photographer (Trolls, please excuse! He is my husband too!) said he was not going to miss the sunset in the canyons. And the reward was this.

The roads afterwards were empty and we glided through pretty uneventfully. We didn’t see any wildlife on the roads, as others had said we would, well, apart from an Elk family. No pictures here, as we were holding the edge of our seats, biting our lips and waiting for more to emerge, all the while remembering the movie - The Ring. Only to realize later that those were moose in the movie and not elks! 
The first day of our vacation drew to a close on a very high note. It would have been perfect even, had we not gone to the Deny’s opposite our hotel in Page, AZ to have our dinner. The Salmon they served us must have died around the same time the canyons started forming. Without going into any more details, I’d just say that I’d never look at buttered toasts the same way again. They were our saving grace at the end of a long grueling day!
The next day would be yet another chapter in our novel-of-a-vacation to the canyonland.

Disclaimer: All images appearing in this blogpost are taken by the in-house photographer who prides himself as my husband. I am eternally grateful to him for capturing our vacation so wonderfully.

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

  For most of us, life without Internet is unimaginable. We live and breathe Internet. We express most of our opinions online. We practice Freedom of Speech online. So what if it is twisted and bent to the point of breaking? Because that is the Internet’s biggest advantage. I may not dare speaking on your face but I can sure wield the Internet as my shield and as my weapon. To viciously attack you, mostly when you are least expecting and derive a sick sadistic pleasure out of it. It doesn’t sound so unusual, does it? Weird and absurd and sick – sure, but not unusual, no! 

Welcome to the word - Trolling. Google defines it as, “To make a deliberately offensive or provocative online posting with the aim of upsetting someone or eliciting an angry response from them.”
I, however, define it as a pathetic attempt to draw attention to self. Oh, no one is listening to what I have to say, no one cares for my opinions, fine, let me make them angry, let me poke them where it hurts the most, let me launch unprovoked malicious attacks. At least it will get people to notice me, and I’ll live my a-few-minutes-of-fame.
What makes me write this? It’s just that I have been repeatedly trolled. On my blogs. I have been accused of lying, exaggerating and spreading malicious rumors. But this time, it was a comment on a Facebook post of mine from a person I knew from college. No, I did not post anything remotely controversial. It was a picture of our dinner made by my husband. He couldn’t believe I’d let my husband cook for me, he couldn’t believe what a man must stoop to doing after marriage. He chastised me for calling him the in-house chef! He was my husband, and not a chef, he said! That I am lucky! His language was harsh.
This uncalled for assault shocked me. I almost felt tempted to reply. But what would I have achieved? An angry thread of conversation and some dirty accusations later, I would have only made my wall filthy and he’d have achieved what he wanted – a response from me! So I just quietly deleted his comment. And considered the matter closed.

The picture of the succulent roasted chicken my husband prepared for the dinner. It was provocative enough for the troll to start his abuse!

 But was it? My husband said, the fact that this troll couldn’t imagine a man cooking for his wife as possible and the fact that he was in the same college as us and had had the same type of education as us worried him. Was he trolling or did he actually believe it? Was he just having fun harassing me or was he being serious?
That’s when it occurred to me. How can you really tell? Saying nasty things doesn’t really mean sexism or racism. Is the troll engaging in bigoted speech as a genuine display of bigotry? Is he a racist or misogynist or homophobic? How can you tell? You can’t. And that’s far less important than the effect trolling has on the victim.
You can however always tell that trolling is gendered male. They enact dominance over female population (like – how can you make your man cook for you! – in my case). Trolls have hours of free time to impose their own socio-cultural beliefs on others repeatedly and have access to technologies to enable them. In short trolls have a privileged life. Likely a better education too. What makes them tick then? Is it just the frustration of their own lives and the urge to take it out on others? Or does it run deeper? I’d never know.
My husband said to push back, to make the troll apologize. But what if he just gets nastier? I am not sure I can handle that. So I ignore my trolls. Hiding behind the hazy clouds of anonymity that is the Internet, trolls have the illusion that they aren’t responsible for what they say. They are the psychopaths, sadists in real life and Internet is their playground. Nothing you and I do will make them go away. Such people will always exist because it is so easy to get away with!
But what if this relentless trolling influences beliefs to be modified? What if being abusive to others becomes fashionable? Mankind’s future looks bleak to me!

Love,

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

  For most of us, life without Internet is unimaginable. We live and breathe Internet. We express most of our opinions online. We practice Freedom of Speech online. So what if it is twisted and bent to the point of breaking? Because that is the Internet’s biggest advantage. I may not dare speaking on your face but I can sure wield the Internet as my shield and as my weapon. To viciously attack you, mostly when you are least expecting and derive a sick sadistic pleasure out of it. It doesn’t sound so unusual, does it? Weird and absurd and sick – sure, but not unusual, no! 

Welcome to the word - Trolling. Google defines it as, “To make a deliberately offensive or provocative online posting with the aim of upsetting someone or eliciting an angry response from them.”
I, however, define it as a pathetic attempt to draw attention to self. Oh, no one is listening to what I have to say, no one cares for my opinions, fine, let me make them angry, let me poke them where it hurts the most, let me launch unprovoked malicious attacks. At least it will get people to notice me, and I’ll live my a-few-minutes-of-fame.
What makes me write this? It’s just that I have been repeatedly trolled. On my blogs. I have been accused of lying, exaggerating and spreading malicious rumors. But this time, it was a comment on a Facebook post of mine from a person I knew from college. No, I did not post anything remotely controversial. It was a picture of our dinner made by my husband. He couldn’t believe I’d let my husband cook for me, he couldn’t believe what a man must stoop to doing after marriage. He chastised me for calling him the in-house chef! He was my husband, and not a chef, he said! That I am lucky! His language was harsh.
This uncalled for assault shocked me. I almost felt tempted to reply. But what would I have achieved? An angry thread of conversation and some dirty accusations later, I would have only made my wall filthy and he’d have achieved what he wanted – a response from me! So I just quietly deleted his comment. And considered the matter closed.

The picture of the succulent roasted chicken my husband prepared for the dinner. It was provocative enough for the troll to start his abuse!

 But was it? My husband said, the fact that this troll couldn’t imagine a man cooking for his wife as possible and the fact that he was in the same college as us and had had the same type of education as us worried him. Was he trolling or did he actually believe it? Was he just having fun harassing me or was he being serious?
That’s when it occurred to me. How can you really tell? Saying nasty things doesn’t really mean sexism or racism. Is the troll engaging in bigoted speech as a genuine display of bigotry? Is he a racist or misogynist or homophobic? How can you tell? You can’t. And that’s far less important than the effect trolling has on the victim.
You can however always tell that trolling is gendered male. They enact dominance over female population (like – how can you make your man cook for you! – in my case). Trolls have hours of free time to impose their own socio-cultural beliefs on others repeatedly and have access to technologies to enable them. In short trolls have a privileged life. Likely a better education too. What makes them tick then? Is it just the frustration of their own lives and the urge to take it out on others? Or does it run deeper? I’d never know.
My husband said to push back, to make the troll apologize. But what if he just gets nastier? I am not sure I can handle that. So I ignore my trolls. Hiding behind the hazy clouds of anonymity that is the Internet, trolls have the illusion that they aren’t responsible for what they say. They are the psychopaths, sadists in real life and Internet is their playground. Nothing you and I do will make them go away. Such people will always exist because it is so easy to get away with!
But what if this relentless trolling influences beliefs to be modified? What if being abusive to others becomes fashionable? Mankind’s future looks bleak to me!

Love,

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

Courtesy: wallpaperseries.com
              Trina woke up as their minivan came to a halt. They had reached their hotel. She felt almost guilty about falling asleep. There was so much to see around that missing wasn’t an option. Seeing wasn’t enough, she devoured each sight – soaking in Mother Nature with all her five senses.               Trina, along with her parents, uncles and aunts, was touring the Dev-Bhumi – Kedarnath and Badrinath. Initially she was skeptic about this tour. What’s in a shrine? She’d mused! Also she would be the only one in her twenties, so lack of company was another concern. But now she could not thank God enough that she came. The abundance of nature had kept her wide eyed so far. And they were already completing their tour. The breath taking beauty of the stiff cliffs, the wild flowers, or the people, their ability to work so hard and their simplicity had etched a permanent mark in her mind. She already had the sketch of the article she would submit to her editor ready in her mind. It would mostly speak about the nature, at its purest form, as she had experienced till now.              The journey from Kedarnath to Badrinath was long but laden with so much beauty that it was almost impossible to blink. There were Alkananda and Mandakini flowing together leaving two distinct colored streams of water as they merged. The lush green and the vibrant chirp of never seen before birds made her a little dizzy with liking. The hill on the right hand side bore marks of recent land slide and the road was almost always broken. She was fascinated at how nonchalantly their driver drove through this road while she had to hold her breath at every hairpin curve. When she looked at her left, the narrow road that zig-zagged uphill came into her view. It was then when she felt the overwhelming nausea. Her mom had given her a medicine to sleep off after she vomited the whole of her lunch and triggered a fit of nausea among the other people in the van.◊                The 28 kms of trek to Kedarnath from Gaurikund had left Trina’s muscles stiff. She being the youngest among the older company had decided to walk the whole distance up and down while others played safe by hiring horses. She could barely move a foot now without wincing. It took her a great effort to get up from her seat and proceed toward the exit of the car. A friendly hand was extended and she took it gratefully without even looking who it belonged to. She was freezing in the cold weather. The hand on the other hand was welcomingly warm and cushioned.                After getting down from the car with great effort she looked up to find a handsome face with stark blue eyes smiling down upon her. “Kedar Trek?” asked the handsome face. Trina half nodded, too preoccupied with the stranger’s clear blue eyes.                “Room number 210”, shouted her dad and proceeded hurriedly behind the porter. Trina tried to follow only to realize that the stranger still held her hand. “I can go from here. Thank you.” She said. He nodded and let go. ◊                The whole population was sick from vomiting too much and tired from a ten hours long journey and they wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a long nap. Trina on the other hand, in spite of being almost immobile, wanted to explore the evening beauty of the hilly town and put her new camera to good use. So after taking a warm bath she stepped out in the chilly wind again.              She found the stranger in the lobby, sitting with the porters. Now that she looked at him closely, he appeared less impressive. He was wearing a pair of worn out jeans and a ragged brown leather jacket. His boots bore signs of settled dust. His head cap was exactly same as the other porters. Yet somehow he was different. He was with them but wasn’t among them. Was it just his looks or something else? Trina couldn’t decide.               Trina crossed the threshold and stepped into the crisp chill. The river Alkananda flowed just outside over a vast bed of colorful pebbles breaking the silence of the evening. It was a mesmerizing sight.                “Ma’am, did no one tell you, it is not safe to roam all by yourself during this time of the day?”, a voice spoke in perfect English behind her. Trina spun around to see that it was the same stranger.               Her first reaction was surprise – he spoke English! But soon she was taken over by rage. This guy, whoever he was, had the audacity to flirt with her. Just because she had taken his help to get off the car, it didn’t mean she had given him the free pass. She was even more annoyed because the poetic mood she was getting into was gone. But she suppressed her desire to be rude and said, “No one did actually. I guess my guardians are confident that I am capable of self-defense.”                A small throaty laugh escaped the stranger, “Ahh.. A brave city girl. So ma’am what do you do? Back in your city?”              “None of your business really! Tell me, have you followed me here to small talk with me? Listen I had just taken your hand because my limbs were clipped from sitting in the same position for a very long time and I appreciate your concern but I am fine.” Trina said with a tone of finality and turned back toward the river. She felt disgusted that she was momentarily dazzled by him. She took out her camera and started clicking the dancing river.                            Though she had elaborate plans of sitting on the banks of the river for a longer period of time and recite poetry, the chilly wind discouraged her. As she got up and started to leave, she found the stranger seated a little farther away. Her heartbeat raced. What was he? A stalker?               Trina quickly walked past him toward the hotel expecting him to catch up every second. But nothing happened. It was just seven by the clock and dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour. So she went to their room to take a quick nap. She snuggled against her parents who were resting. Resting her head against her mother’s bosom she closed her eyes and let herself wonder about the stranger. Was he back now? Why didn’t he say anything after her rebuke but waited silently? Slowly she drifted off to a quieter world of sleep.[next]
                She woke up from the loud bangs on the door. She took her time to adjust to the wakefulness while her mom opened the door. “Get up, get up”, her aunt shouted, “the first sunrays on the Neelkanth.” Trina was awake in a second. She grabbed her camera and leapt outside ignoring the screaming protest of her rigid body.               “There would be plenty of time to tend to it once I go back”, she reasoned.                            The Neelkanth peak of the Gadhwal Himalayas glowed like molten gold in the virgin sunrays. Trina peeked through the lens of her camera but some trees obscured her view. Maybe the roof would be a better idea. As she articulated her thought, the whole gang ran to the roof. Recharged by a good night sleep, those six people with an average age of 45 were a delight to watch.               There he was, the blue-eyed stranger. The way he started from the buzzing sound that her people made, it was clear that he had been in a reverie. He looked at her and then away, at the golden peek which now loomed large enough to captivate its viewers immobile. None of them remembered how long they stood there, but the gold became silver and then pure blinding white in front of their eyes. ◊                Even after a lot of persuasion Trina’s mother failed to make her daughter come with them to take a bath at the hot water spring. While Trina was fascinated at nature’s thoughtfulness to provide natural hot water in such cold weather, she could not picture herself taking bath in it with semi naked strangers. She would just take a hot bath at the hotel and join them in the temple for puja in an hour’s time.               As she came out of her room, the stranger stood there, holding on to the iron railing of the balcony and looking into the river. She crossed past him, but he called out, “do you always like to roam about all by yourself?”                In the daylight she felt bolder. What the harm? She would be leaving tomorrow anyway.               “Yes. But it does not seem so easy now that I have a stalker like you.” She replied.              “Stalker huh? This is my place. Remember? I can be anywhere I like.” But she saw a hint of smile.              “Your place? Are you the owner of this hotel?” Trina asked.              “No. But my father is.”               “And what do you do in your father’s hotel?”              “Nothing.”              “Oh. So you are a freeloader?” Trina said and started to walk away.              “Not really. I take care of the power supply in the hotel.” The stranger called out.              “How? By running a generator?” Trina stopped. She couldn’t help but feel bemused.              “Umm…you can say so…yeah!” The Stranger looked amused too.              “Why are your eyes blue?” Trina blurted out, immediately regretting her unrestrained tongue.              The stranger now turned to face her completely and Trina realized that his eyes looked bluer in the daylight or maybe from the sweater, she didn’t know.                            “Because my mother had blue eyes. Lots of people have blue eyes. It is pretty common.” He replied.              “Not around here! Where did you learn to speak English?” Now that Trina’s first question was answered so nonchalantly she was determined to quench her every curiosity.               “We get lots of foreigner guests.”              “Did they teach you the accent as well?"              “Well, I see that you are as curious about me as I am about you. Why don’t we start from the beginning?” he said, amusement overflowing his eyes.              Trina felt so embarrassed suddenly that she felt all her blood rushing to her ears. “I don’t have so much time, I must meet my parents at the temple.” She mumbled and walked away.                            But this time the stranger caught up with her. “Aren’t you hungry? You skipped your dinner last night. Your mom said you were sleeping so peacefully that she didn’t want to wake you.” He added as an afterthought.              “And you spoke with my mom?”                “No. She was telling her sister I think. But the question is - aren’t you hungry?”              “I am. But I mustn’t eat anything till the puja is over.”                “So you are religious too!”              “This place is so wonderful that one cannot help but feel thankful to God.”                “True. Isn’t this place beautiful?”               “Hmm. But I never saw a local appreciating the nature’s beauty this way!”                “You are observant. Actually I was away for quite a long time which I have come to regret now.”              “Where have you been?” Trina heard herself asking.                “Lots of places actually.” He said.               “Which places?”                “And you are persistent too!”              “Are you here to observe my characteristic traits?”                “Easily annoyed!” he smirked.                  “If you have problem with telling me the places you have been, you could just tell that! I don’t like people who can’t be straight forward.” Trina was feeling very irritated now.                            The stranger sighed, resigned. “Well. I have a mixed ancestry.”              “Well. I guessed that much!” Trina felt impatient.                They had already reached the temple alley lined with beautiful shops on both sides.               “Why didn’t you want to take a shot at the hot water spring?” he asked.                Though she didn’t like deviating from the topic, she answered. “Because I am not comfortable with the idea.”              “But it would have helped you a lot, you know, given the stiffness you are feeling in your body right now. The Sulphur and Chlorides in the water are very good for curing muscle stiffness.” He said.                “You seem to know quite well about hot springs. But no thanks. I will take some medicine after going back.” Trina said.              “City girl!” he chuckled.                “You said you have been to many places?”              “Hmm. Yeah. I roamed a lot with my mom when I was a kid.”                            “And your dad?” Trina asked. But then they had already reached the temple and she saw her parents at the gate waiting for her.               “There’s your people. See you later then?” he asked.              “Yep.” Trina replied. [next]
              The colorful temple of Badrinath loomed large in front of her. If Kedarnath was quiet, this one brimmed with people dressed in all types of warm clothes. Yet, the puja affair was done with quickly unlike Kedarnath because given the sheer number of people it was not allowed to stay long.                Back at hotel Trina’s eyes wandered about but she couldn’t find the Blue Eyes. They had their breakfast at the dining hall. After that they were set to start for the Vasundhara Falls. Trina was reluctant at the prospect of another 4 kms of trek, but the promised sight of a milky waterfall was tempting.               She wanted to see the Blue Eyed Stranger before leaving the hotel, but he was nowhere to be seen. She even made a quick trip to the roof. She didn’t know why she wanted to see that guy but she just wanted to see him. How ridiculous, she thought! She would be leaving tomorrow. And then she wouldn’t see him again. It didn’t matter. Yet the entire purpose of her tour had now converged to the sole matter. She wanted to know more about that man. There was something mysterious about him. But then why did she even care?◊                The waterfall turned out to be more beautiful than she had imagined. When seen from distance it looked like milk pouring down. But Trina was shocked when she caught herself still thinking about the blue eyed stranger while looking at the falls. “What a horrible infatuation is this?” She thought to herself, “the earlier I leave this place, the better”.              Back at the hotel however, her heart leapt – he was there, back in the same brown jacket and blue jeans. Their eyes met. She thought she saw something there, but couldn’t read it.                After dinner Trina wanted to stay back a little but her mother wouldn’t let her. The more she pleaded that she was fine, that she just wanted to stay a bit more by the river, the sterner her mother became. Tonight she ought to take her medicine and sleep well, her mother said, if she wanted to survive tomorrow’s long journey. Trina gave him a last longing look. His mouth was an amused line. Clearly he had followed her conversation with her mom.◊              Next morning Trina woke up early. Her mobile said it was 4 o’clock in the morning. Today they would be starting from Badri toward Rudraprayag. They would spend the night at Rudraprayag and then would leave for Rishikesh and then to Delhi the same day. Heaviness filled her chest. She had a nagging feeling of leaving an unsolved mystery behind.                She climbed out of her bed with great difficulty. Her parents were sleeping. Having already seen the golden Neelkanth yesterday, they didn’t need to see it again. She slowly made it to the roof. She felt a knot release at her heart when she saw him there. He looked peaceful as he looked at the golden peak. She stood a little behind, silently. After a while she spoke, “Do you come here every day?” she asked.               “Almost. But today I was hoping that you would come.” He said.                            “I just came to see the golden peek one last time. Today I am leaving.”               “I know. I checked the roster. What time?”               “Ten o’clock.” Trina said.                            “Great! Happy journey.” He extended one arm.              “Thanks.” Said Trina as she shook his hand. It was the same - welcomingly warm.                She felt a little put off. Why though? Did she expect the stranger to say something else? How different their lives were! How could she even indulge in these stupid feelings? She would go back to Delhi; get involved in her daily life and everything would be okay. But she still felt insulted and hurt and couldn’t explain why.              “So you came up here just to see the golden peek?” he asked, almost as an after thought. Or was it hesitation?                            “Yes. Why?”              “You could have seen it from your balcony.”              “The view is better here.”              “Why did you want to stay back then after dinner last night?”              “I just wanted to go to the river.”              “Is it?  Alright then. I will leave you to enjoy your sunrise.”               What the heck. Do hell with the ego, she wasn’t even going to see him again, “Wait! I have some questions. For you.”                            “You do?” he turned.              “What’s your name?”               “I thought you’d never ask!” he smiled flashing remarkably whiter teeth than is expected from a man in this surrounding. “I am Mayur.” He extended his arm again.              “I am Trina.” She took his hand.              “I thought they called you Tuni?” Mayur smiled.              “That’s my pet name. What about your mom? I thought you said you had a mixed ancestry!”              “You are not swayed easily, are you?”              “I am just curious.”              “Some may find it intrusive!”              “Do you?”              “No! My mother was from Luxembourg, a small country in Europe. She came here travelling, fell in and out of love with my dad and in between she had me.” He laughed casually.               “Oh! Where is she now?” Trina asked.              “She died when I was thirteen.” Mayur answered.              “I am so sorry.” Trina didn’t know what else to say.              “Don’t be. It’s alright. I wasn’t at that time. Sometimes, you know, I felt trapped with her. The endless moving from one city to another and then again to another. Not having a proper place to stay. I just wanted to have a normal childhood a normal friend circle and a normal schooling. So you know, I felt, in a way I was being freed when she died.”              Trina kept silent not knowing what to say. She didn’t know why he was telling her this. She shivered a little, partly from the cold and partly from an alien emotion she couldn’t quite grasp.                “So yeah. I’ve had a pretty different life than yours,” Mayur said. Then he shook his head and laughed, “I honestly don’t know why I am telling you all these in the crack of the dawn. Am I scaring you? You look quite pale.”              “It’s just that you know, it’s just that I have never known the feeling you just described. But I can understand how terrible it must have been for you.”                “Yes it was. I hated her at that time. But later I have come to realize that if not for her I would never have learnt things I know now.”              “How did you end up here?” Trina asked.                “It’s a long story. But given that you already know more about me than everyone else combined, why don’t I show you something?” Mayur’s whole face lit up. “Can you manage a couple of hours from your parents? I promise I would bring you back by 8.” He said.            “What?”           “Please. Don’t get scared now. I want to remember you as a brave city girl.”◊
              Mayur drove Trina in an open jeep through a dwindling pass between the hills. She looked at his direction but could not read his expression. Misgivings built strongly in Trina’s stomach and with each passing second she regretted her decision to come with a stranger more and more. They had been driving steadily for over twenty minutes now and Mayur had not said anything about their destination.               Then suddenly they came to a halt. It was an open field with few brick and asbestos buildings that looked like warehouses. Gushes of steam blew from the chimneys on the roofs. Busy looking men and women scurried past them. “This is how I ended up here.” Mayur finally spoke.                Trina’s surprise knew no bound. She got off the car and looked around. “Is this some kind of industry that you own?”              “It’s a geo-thermal power plant. And yes I own it.”              Trina felt her mouth fall open. “You mean you are generating power here using the hot spring?”               “I knew you were smart!” he beamed. “It is small now. I can only power the hotel and a handful of shops on the temple street.”              “But this is huge! I have not heard of another geo-thermal plant in India.”              “Yep. Mine is the first.” He said proudly. [next]  Delhi Three Months Later              Trina panted heavily even as she yanked the door to the auditorium open. She was already ten minutes late even after starting early from home. The TED talk she was covering for her magazine had already begun. She rushed past the gate security by flashing her Press ID and frantically looked for her designated seat. As she scanned the rows of seats, her eyes fell upon a pair of blue ones, fixed directly at her. Her heart promptly skipped a beat.              There he was – Mayur, in a dark suit and a tie exactly the color of his eyes. And he was looking at her. He tilted his head slightly to gesture at the seat beside him. But she turned and headed toward her seat – Chief Reporter, Indian IQ Magazine.                The one article that had put both of their careers on fast tracks was about a stranger with blue eyes, who, tucked away in the depth of the Himalayan Mountains, had achieved a great engineering feat. The 1000 words she wrote about him had gone viral for two weeks. She received numerous inquiries and appreciations. But the person the article was about, never got in touch. She wondered, maybe, even though unlikely, he lived in too remote a place to know that he was famous. Or maybe he preferred his isolation too much. She hadn’t asked his permission before publishing the article. She’d thought he’d be pleasantly surprised. But then days became weeks. And she came to reason that maybe he never cared for her the way she’d done. Fearing the worst she never tried to contact him either.               But then one day, he’d called. To thank her. He got the attention of a lot of venture capitalists because of her, he said. Quite a few researchers came by as well. And that with all the new investments he’d be able to expand. All because of her. He said, he was not sure if this was what he wanted, but thanks anyway because people now knew about him. It was a formal call. Not at all how she’d imagined.                There was a lot of unsaid things, or so it had seemed to her, when she was leaving Badrinath that day. It had seemed that this thing (whatever it was) between them was far from over. Even though he hadn’t expressed any interest to know about the ways to keep in touch, she’d automatically assumed that in this era of social media it was an easy thing – keeping in touch. But proving her wrong, their acquaintance had ended as abruptly as it had started. As months passed Trina thought less and less about him. Sometimes it was nothing more than a passing thought, but, some other times it was uncomfortable like a chipped tooth.              She’d spent many an indecisive moment whether to come or not today when she learnt that Mayur was going to be one of the speakers as a young engineer turned entrepreneur who set up India’s first geothermal power plant. But then her curiosity took over and here she was!                Mayur’s nonchalant behavior infuriated her. He’d been avoiding her all this time, but instead of being apologetic about it, he behaved as if all was well. She was even more bewildered when he trotted to her place, convinced the person sitting next to her to move to his seat (that girl was only too eager to move because clearly she thought Trina’d written that article only because something was going on between them!).              “Hey!” he said.              “Hi! How are you?” Trina put her poker face on.              “How do you think I am?”              “Well! You look well.”              “There’s really no need to be so formal, is there? I know you are angry!”              “And why would I be?”              “Well, partly because I am a selfish moron and partly because I am still showing the audacity of talking to you.” He quipped.               “If you know it so well, then probably you shouldn’t be talking to me!” Trina retorted.               “But I have to”, he was suddenly serious, “I have to talk to you. In fact, I came here as just an excuse to see you.”              Trina couldn’t help but roll her eyes.              “Don’t roll your eyes Trina, I am serious. I am too much like my father, you know! I like settlement, a niche of my own. Daily monotonies inspire me. Why else do you think I abandoned my studies in Germany and came here? But you came to my hotel and it changed. For the first time in my life I felt the need to brag about myself, to show you that I was more than met your eye. I felt that I had to prove my worth to you. When you were impressed, it just felt good. Had I known that you were a reporter, I wouldn’t have shown my plant to you. Or may be I would have, and made you promise that you’d not write anything about it. But I didn’t know, and you didn’t ask. The shock was too much.”                Trina was listening patiently till now. But she couldn’t anymore. “If being recognized for something you did is shocking to you, then why are you here today? The “Young Engineer turned Entrepreneur?”” her voice dripped with sarcasm.              He stood up. “I have to go now. It’s my turn to speak next. You are too angry at me to believe me if I say the truth now. I will tell you later.”                “All the best Mr. Young Engineer turned Entrepreneur!” Trina called out mockingly.  ◊              The audience applauded as Mayur walked onto the stage looking every bit as professional as any other. As he started to speak, Trina turned her concentration to forming the skeleton of the article she was going to write, shutting off his speech.               A few minutes passed and suddenly she was brought to attention by the sound of her name. As Trina looked up unwillingly, she was surprised once again, to find the shabbily dressed person she’d met in the mountains replaced completely by a charming man who knew his place.                “…. It is all because of her of course”, he was saying, “I was just fine until she came along, happy in my own world. But since the day I met her, all I can think is, how can I impress her! How can I make myself worthy of her? Alright, she is impressed that I’ve set up a power plant, but is it enough for her to consider a future with me? I thought it all the time. But it was hard work. So the pessimistic part of me wanted to shut her off. That it was all very futile, didn’t make any sense. My becoming successful didn’t guarantee that she’d be mine. It probably was the best to accept the worst and move on. By moving on here I mean staying put. But then the optimistic part of me took over. It told me that I at least had to try. I could not be a coward and not not try! So I worked my way up, from the platform she’d provided me. So here I am today, in front of you, being recognized as a young entrepreneur. Alkananda Power Plant will be the sole power supplier of the town of Badrinath by the end of the year. By the end of next year, we’ll have enough capacity to power half of the Gadhwal population . But I was just following my heart. I was just trying to prove myself to her. I still don’t know if I have impressed her enough, but I have at least given it my best shot.”              The auditorium erupted with applause. Trina silently left the auditorium.                Halfway through the corridor he caught her. The challenge in his eyes was clear: the ball was in her court now. The decision was hers.              “I don’t like drama, and the people who make it.” she said.              “Then let’s go somewhere where we can talk. Really talk! Don’t tell me that we don’t need it.”              “Do we? Even so, I don’t see why we can’t talk here. I Don’t see we have something private going on here.”              “Fine.” Sighed Mayur. “You win. I will talk right here right now. As I said on the stage, I like you – a lot. I thought it was just a passing attraction at first, and that it will go away with time. I didn’t want to get involved because this, you and I, is very inconvenient! You must see that! And I kept telling myself that you were not what I remembered you to be, I was skeptic that maybe it was I who was conjuring you up as I liked. It felt foolhardy and impractical – like something my mother would have done. I was resisting it. But I failed. I knew I had to come today because you were going to be there. I thought seeing you again will help me know what I really wanted. And the moment I saw you today, I knew it will be worth every hardship I’d have to face if you’d say yes to me.”              There was a small crowd gathered around them now. Trina felt her face flush with embarrassment even as a lone drop of tear escaped her eyes. It would be inconvenient for sure, unlikely as they were as a couple, but as he’d said, she was ready to take those odds. She whispered, “Follow me.”                Bewildered, Mayur followed her half running through the crowd. She led him up the stairs and to the roof. And then before he could catch his breath, she kissed him. The setting sun’s glow illuminated these two odd figures. It took Mayur a while to catch on, but as he deepened the kiss the last orange sunrays set Trina on fire and wrapped Mayur in shadows – as different as possible, yet always together.Love,

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

After the nightmarish winter this year, the New England weather has finally decided to get warmer. Even though it rains at least once a week every week, this is the only quarter of the year when you don’t need a warm outerwear to go out. You can tell by the frantic increase in bare legs and arms in office and the number of boats in the bay, how eager everyone is to make the most of the summer, which usually  makes a cameo appearance in the rolling play of seasons.
  
    We too are trying to compensate for the total inactivity of the winter desperately. After having spent the winter holed up inside, surrounded by more than a hundred inches of snow, we are determined to spend our summer outdoor as much as possible - storing up cud to be coughed up and savoured during the white out months later.  That is why, when we planned to go hiking - a seven mile long steep climb of 4000 feet and down, that is what was in my mind - memory making.

    We were going to Mt. Osceola, one of the peaks in the beautiful White Mountains in New Hampshire. We would start from the Tripoli Trail, go all the way up and then come down through the Greeley Pond trail. We were taking two cars, so we’d park one car at each side of our trail.
Courtesy: www.hikenewengland.com
    It had rained the day before but the weather had cleared out in the evening. And the plan was on. Morning when we started from our home, it was pleasant outside - not too hot, yet warm enough. We packed our backpacks and off we went. And balked. Well, almost.


    The steep mountain stood unyielding before us, daring us to take a step forward. The narrow hike had loose rocks and wet soil. To make things worse small streams of water ran across the rocks from last night’s rain. While we were weighing our options by taking a stock of our supply of water and sunscreens and bug spray - a man passed us by with his dog. “If you are carrying duct tape, you should be good. Come on now, plunge. Don’t hesitate.” he called out to us before moving on. Duct Tape! Not only we weren’t carrying any, we didn’t know why we’d need some. Talk about being amateurs!


    Since it’d be too shameful to show our faces later if we didn’t do the hike after coming all the way, we decided to go for it. We silently said our prayer and started to climb. We used four of our limbs and climbed. About an hour later we took our first break and took out our phones to take some pictures of our tired and sweaty selves. We couldn’t believe what we saw. It’d been only ten minutes! Not an hour!


    At this point I lost it. I shouted at my husband for convincing me to come to this hike. I was a keyboard wielding, slouched in my seat software engineer with a weak lower back. How was it ever a good idea to torture myself like this on a perfectly fine weekend when I could sit on my couch and watch TV? But my breath rasped like wind in a pine grove and barely a sound came out.


    I wanted to go back but our car was at the other end of the hike and the people we carpooled with to this end of the trail were already far ahead of us. If we didn’t follow, they’d be stuck on the other side and we on this side.


    So we climbed some more. And then some more. We walked, slipped and almost fell down the open valley and died, but we didn’t stop anymore. Because we had to do it. We weren’t going to make ourselves look like the cowards. Slowly the Adrenaline was kicking in, the lungs and the heart were becoming accustomed to the assault.  Walking on the rocks, moving deftly from one rock to another without falling or tripping or loosing balance became a game. And we started to make good pace.


    About an hour later (a real hour this time), we found our way blocked by some tree branches. We removed the branches for the fellow hikers, like the helpful people we were, and went our way. The trail was smoother and we were doing much better now.


    “See, how well we are doing now?” my husband said.


    “It’s all about giving your body time to get accustomed. And see we are doing so well, that the other couple who were right behind us is no where to be seen now.” I said with some satisfaction.
    “Wait. You are right. Where are they? And why didn’t we see anyone else?” he asked.


    “Oh, dont you worry. They must be taking a break. Let’s go!”


    “What if the branches we removed were actual road blockers? Let’s go back the way we came.”


    “What? Are you mad? I am not going back again.” I found my temper rising again.


    But he made me look around. We were in the middle of a forest, just like in movies, and there were no marking, no paths what so ever marked by human feet! GPS didn’t work here either! So we relied on the tiny compass we had and found that sure enough, we were headed North-West when actually we should have gone North-East.


    We trudged our way backward to the same point where we’d taken the wrong turn and with the help of the compass corrected our course! Half a mile climb later the couple we’d lost came into view again! Imagine our delight then! Not only were we on the right course again, we’d also learnt to navigate the ancient way - by using a compass!


    We began our seemingly endless climb at this point stopping only to sip our water. Two more hours later I was feeling light headed and dizzy. All I knew was I have to go on. We met quite a few people coming down (clever people - coming down the same way they went up), and I asked everyone - “How far is the peak? How much more? How long?”    The answers were absurd. Ranging from 40 minutes to 20 minutes to just round the corner. I stopped asking.


    I had bruised my body badly and my throat burned. I was almost convinced that I was never going to make it, that I was having a heart attack right here right now, that I’d have to call 911 and the rescue team would come flying in a helicopter just like what they show in the movies.


    But then just when I was about to give up the narrow rocky way gave into a plain, almost circular, open area. We’d reached the peak. The sprawling view that stretched ahead made up for all the effort! The green Pine forest stretched on the hill slope as far as eyes could see. The sky was overcast, and it gave the forest a dark tinge - like the deep green velvet.
    We ate our lunch here,  sitting on the edge of the cliff - our feet dangling. Someone made a joke that anyone wanting to avoid the hike down should just jump. That was the fastest way to reach where we came from!


    We also met the guy with the dog here, who had said that duct tape was the one thing we needed on the hike. By the time we’d reached, he was already planning his descent. Unable to contain my curiosity I asked him why he’d said so! He said, very seriously - “If you break some bones while going down, you can use duct tape to keep it together temporarily. You gotta keep going, don’t you? No 911 help is going to come here, you know!”


    Thus began our descent! On the other side of the mountain.

© copyright 2015 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

    Last night I watched the movie “Dil Dhadakne Do”. It’s an okay - ish movie about a dysfunctional  family with an over the top Bollywood style climax. But this post is not about the movie. This post is about one of the things the movie talks about. The guilt of success.
   
    Ayesha (Priyanka Chopra), the daughter of the family, is a successful business woman. Forbes lists her as one of the ten entrepreneurs to watch out for. Yet at home, she is a docile daughter and a demure daughter-in-law who tolerates her mother-in-laws’ subtle taunting silently, feels bad about denying her husband sex when he wants it even if she is too tired and lacks the courage to say what she wants to her parents - to divorce her husband.

    When I tried to discuss this, the politest opinion I got was that her story in the movie was the lamest. It made no sense for a girl of her calibre to be so meek. Well, I can only say that either they are being purposefully naive or they don’t know many people.

    Growing up in a household where both the parents worked full time, I have seen my mother’s guilt first hand. She was successful in her career, was respected by her colleagues and earned a lot of money but was still wrecked with guilt. She went out of her way to live upto the image of the perfect woman - a fictitious person capable of balancing everything just right! She woke up at 4 am and went to bed at 11 pm, performed the daily puja, made food for us, got us ready for school, fed us, tutored us, washed our dirty clothes, cleaned the house, remembered to pay the bills on time and was our communication link with our relatives.
   
    And on top of that, mean little kids as we were, we gave hard times if she missed a parent teacher meeting or didn’t take a day off on our birthdays. She obliged to all our demands.   But how ever much she did, it was never enough!

    By the time I understood the enormity of what we were used to taking as granted, it was too late. By then, my mother had accepted it as given too! That it must be her who has to deal with everything because she is getting to pursue a career - an extra thing that her peers didn’t have!

    And since I started observing, it was unnerving to see how many people suffered from the same guilt. How many women felt they rightfully deserved the criticism that came their way for not being able to devote full time in home making, for not having enough energy to cook up a six-course meal on the special days! It feels almost like being given an undue advantage that they must prove to be worthy of!

    It is there - in every person who does something outside the set of roles and responsibilities others expect of them, just because they like it. It is there - in every person who decides to indulge in something just for their own selves. It is there - in every man or woman who has made it big compared to the other people they know of! How many people do you know who try to walk the middle ground of keeping everyone happy and as a result achieving none themselves?

    Has it never happened to you? Didn’t anyone you know ever make you feel guilty for having the audacity to do something good, for advancing in life? Have you really truly never felt guilty for doing well and living well?

    We are taught to be useful to others, put everyone else first and place self at the last. Sacrifice is a great virtue. Denying yourself of something you like for others’ sake is a beautiful thing. Again and again. Until it is imbibed in our hair, skin and bones. And that is why we must doubly give back if we take something that pleases us.

    And that is why Ayesha’s character worked for me. A fierce career woman for the world, but a submissive daughter-in-law at home - she reminded me of my mother. She reminded me of the brilliant colleague who couldn’t come to the successful launch party of the project she was a crucial part of because it was her parents-in-law’s wedding anniversary and she couldn’t say no. She reminded me of the manager I so used to adore who refused a leadership role offered to her because she could not tilt the “balance”. And most shockingly in her I saw myself, and my husband. We deal with things, we otherwise would not have because we live a privileged life here. We deal with things because we do not want to hurt the ego of the people in our lives.

    Small sacrifices or big ones - to appease the guilt of being successful, of being happy. While it is perfectly alright to make sacrifices for the loved ones, if it makes one happy; being miserable, but still dealing with it however, is not! But is there a cure? What are your thoughts?
Love,

© copyright 2014 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random

So it was easy to fall out of habit. It is proving even harder to get back in. I can’t complete a post. An array of half formed thoughts, a clutter of unfinished posts. I have never gone so long without writing anything. But every time I sit down and try, my mind veers off to that one incident I am trying very hard to forget and I have to get up and do something to distract myself, to shut my thoughts up.
So what happened you ask? Well, something shocking that almost devastated me. I was picking up my remains scattered all over for the past few months. Had it not been for the person I call my better (literally) half, I’d be sitting in a lunatic asylum right now. Still, I haven’t been able to detach myself from it enough to be able to talk about it. That’s for another day. For now, I will celebrate that I am writing my first published post in five months (has it been five months already?) and make it something lighthearted.
Office these days has been the one bright spot in my life. I am unwittingly thrown into hilarious situations every now and then. A misunderstanding here or a misinterpretation there. Not a day passes when I am not confronted by another specimen from the language that propagates itself as English. I used to be incredulous before but now every time I see one of those, I quite cheer up. They are hilarious, sometimes baffling, but you can sure have a good laugh at their expense.
In this new language my name is spelt and pronounced as Rajruba. People who speak this language suffer from Chicken Box. They have doubt in every email that is sent to them. They even call themselves “prepared documents”. In this post I am going to laugh at this new language and laugh as hard as I can.
The other day, a girl pinged me in the instant messenger to say that she was done with the documentation work I had assigned to her. Here is an excerpt. 

A new guy has joined the team. The day he joined the team he proclaimed himself as a man of simple living and high thinking. A few days back he has shocked the wit out of me by telling the project manager that he will knock her up. Imagine her embarrassment!
In an unrelated context, his emails to his bosses start this way:“HiAs per discussed with Rajrupa:”
In another example, his boss asks me:“can u print it for me - I tried but it doesnt it”
I have plenty more to share but I guess you can already tell my frustrations. Call me the Grammar Nazi or you can call me a rigid old fashioned fool but it will never be okay to me just because as-long-as-everyone-can-understand-what’s-being-said-it’s-fine. It is a sin to me to distort a language this terribly.
And in reality, I laugh when I encounter such phrases because otherwise I would strangle the person opposite to me, put him in the same chicken box he is suffering from and throw the box away.
And now, somehow the post is not so funny anymore. And I am angry! But then here is what just happened:
A colleague sends an IM:Colleague: I heard that you have a pair sneakers!Me (Wondering why on earth he wants to know about my shoes): Yes I do! I have two pairs in fact.Colleague: Oh you have four sneakers aah? What will you do with so many? Can you give me one?Me (More incredulously): Umm.. I am not sure they will fit you!Colleague: Fit me? Why it has eggs aah?Me (Finally Confessing): I don’t understand what you are saying.Colleague: See I am a vegetarian. I don’t eat eggs. That’s why you are saying it won’t fit me right?
That’s when it hits me. He is talking about the chocolate bars called Snickers!

Love,

© copyright 2014 – All rights reserved

Riot of Random