I’d say we are all in the pursuit of happiness; it’s just that happiness likes visiting us in bursts and then disappears.
There is no parameter for happiness though. It is different things for different people, a best seller for a writer, a baby for a mother, warmth for the Eskimo, first crop for the farmer.
The movie, “The Pursuit of Happyness” tells us of the struggle of a man who chose to chase his dream. I believe that in every one of us there is a dream, to achieve, to be successful, to be content and to be happy.
Can happiness ever be defined? I think not.
As a child a new book or a new toy would make me happy; as a teenager, the smile of the cute neighbourhood guy.
In college, I was so happy that I had a boyfriend; as an adult, to find my soul mate. I was overjoyed when I landed my first job but later that didn’t stop me from looking for another.
When I landed myself in a profession that I wanted to make a career of, I yearned and still do, to do something different, to try something new and getaway from my current profession.
Can happiness ever be sought? Probably.
The small accomplishments at work; the pats on your back; the acknowledgement of your experimental cooking; the fact that you are missed at a party;
I think it’s good that happiness is a visitor; it just makes me realise that if I was not in the pursuit of happiness, life wouldn’t be as good.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Switcase Fool of Purls
India never ceases to amaze when it comes to signs; all kinds of signs.
To the left is one on a shoe repair shop; not exactly a shop but more like a manned kiosk.
I hope to collect more of these beauties.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
I Finally Met The “Chair”Man
The air was bustling with activity in the otherwise dull atmosphere of St.Agnes College. More a jailkhana than a college in my opinion. Amruth, the first ever intercollegiate cultural fest by the college was being hosted and they gave the forlorn, thirsty girls, access to Amruth, Nectar, Boys. The events that were being held were enough to spew our interests.
Competing with fellow college mates, diligently booing female counterparts from other colleges and shamelessly flirting with the otherwise forbidden species, who’s setting foot on our campus was as rare as the appearance of the Haley’s Comet.
The events themselves had their own scale of popularity. The Variety Entertainment being the most sought after event and the Hindi Extempore, I guess one of the least. Dumb Charades, What’s the Good Word, Tom Dick & Harry and the like always brought together the silently witty, emphatically voracious, “person”ally strong lot.
I would glue myself to the dumb lot; dumb charades was where the action was. The whole gang would always be hovering around these literary events that were the most talked about.
And in my wildest dreams I never did think that I would go and watch the Hindi Extempore; and I didn’t.
No, I don’t have any aversion towards the national language, in fact I have very fruitlessly tried to master it, but the Hindi Extempore didn’t seem one bit enticing; given the fact that a select bunch of nerds from the college’s “Hindi Class” would be representing their colleges in this event.
Oh well, I then learnt how wrong I was. After an extremely fun filled session of “What’s the Good Word” there was a sudden buzz coming from the direction where the least popular event was held.
Students were out with a smile and some with stifled giggles. I was wondering why.
The buzz was that one student got just a single word for the extempore, “Kursi”, the Hindi word for Chair.
The ridiculous topic was the exact opposite as of its speaker. It seems the guy, eloquent and unruffled spoke about the “Kursi” as if it were specially ordered for him.
The whole audience was in splits and the “Chair”man managed to keep all of the audience amused and entertained throughout his allotted minute.
Undoubtedly he went on to win the first place.
The girls seemed floored by his wit and good looks. “Damn!” was the first thing that crossed my mind.
An opportunity lost to getting a glimpse of the usually rare, witty, humorous and good-looking guy.
But life goes on, there were definitely others to woo. But the “Chair”man kind of remained at the back of my head.
St.Agnes had never been dear to me. Leaving college didn’t leave me bleary eyed. Colleges changed after that and I did too.
And yes, there were always Amruth like events being held but this time we weren’t the ones who were starved. At each of these events I wondered if the “Chair”man would sit up. But no, he didn’t.
Years later the friends circle had grown. Reminiscing the good old college days on a lazy Sunday afternoon the topic invariably turned to Amruth, and I had to mention the “Chair”man and how everyone kept speaking of him, and how we never got to know who he was. And then my good old friend sits up and nonchalantly says, “That was me”.
PS: He is now my husband.
The title should’ve been “I Finally Married the Chairman”, but when I wrote this bit I had just met him.
Competing with fellow college mates, diligently booing female counterparts from other colleges and shamelessly flirting with the otherwise forbidden species, who’s setting foot on our campus was as rare as the appearance of the Haley’s Comet.
The events themselves had their own scale of popularity. The Variety Entertainment being the most sought after event and the Hindi Extempore, I guess one of the least. Dumb Charades, What’s the Good Word, Tom Dick & Harry and the like always brought together the silently witty, emphatically voracious, “person”ally strong lot.
I would glue myself to the dumb lot; dumb charades was where the action was. The whole gang would always be hovering around these literary events that were the most talked about.
And in my wildest dreams I never did think that I would go and watch the Hindi Extempore; and I didn’t.
No, I don’t have any aversion towards the national language, in fact I have very fruitlessly tried to master it, but the Hindi Extempore didn’t seem one bit enticing; given the fact that a select bunch of nerds from the college’s “Hindi Class” would be representing their colleges in this event.
Oh well, I then learnt how wrong I was. After an extremely fun filled session of “What’s the Good Word” there was a sudden buzz coming from the direction where the least popular event was held.
Students were out with a smile and some with stifled giggles. I was wondering why.
The buzz was that one student got just a single word for the extempore, “Kursi”, the Hindi word for Chair.
The ridiculous topic was the exact opposite as of its speaker. It seems the guy, eloquent and unruffled spoke about the “Kursi” as if it were specially ordered for him.
The whole audience was in splits and the “Chair”man managed to keep all of the audience amused and entertained throughout his allotted minute.
Undoubtedly he went on to win the first place.
The girls seemed floored by his wit and good looks. “Damn!” was the first thing that crossed my mind.
An opportunity lost to getting a glimpse of the usually rare, witty, humorous and good-looking guy.
But life goes on, there were definitely others to woo. But the “Chair”man kind of remained at the back of my head.
St.Agnes had never been dear to me. Leaving college didn’t leave me bleary eyed. Colleges changed after that and I did too.
And yes, there were always Amruth like events being held but this time we weren’t the ones who were starved. At each of these events I wondered if the “Chair”man would sit up. But no, he didn’t.
Years later the friends circle had grown. Reminiscing the good old college days on a lazy Sunday afternoon the topic invariably turned to Amruth, and I had to mention the “Chair”man and how everyone kept speaking of him, and how we never got to know who he was. And then my good old friend sits up and nonchalantly says, “That was me”.
PS: He is now my husband.
The title should’ve been “I Finally Married the Chairman”, but when I wrote this bit I had just met him.
A Season For Love
As the first rain lashes onto the ground, memories of my first love flood me. Everything seemed so romantic at that time. The fresh smell of the earth, the grey sky, the faint sound of thunder and the slight rustle of the cool breeze.
He would always pass by on his cycle, come rain or sunshine, just to get a glimpse of me. And I, waiting in earnest, with a hot cup of my evening tea, by my window side, listening for the familiar ring of the bell until he appeared.
At that young an age, just a sight of him would make me dance with glee. The joy knew no bounds. Once in a while we would encounter each other in the park, where I would gladly go with my younger siblings, knowing he would be there.
We’d casually greet each other and sit on the park bench, while the younger ones played. Those times together were especially precious since we rarely met otherwise.
We didn’t meet or speak to each other for the fear of being found out, and then there were the neighbors’ sharp tongues. But making no arrangements at all was convenient enough.
There were no complications in this relationship, no hurt, no pain.
Like most young first loves this too ceased to exist, and the relationship came to an end. It did hurt a little, but then there was no remorse.
For years the rain would keep me a little reminder of my first love, and now through the rain I can hear the faint ring of the cycle bell, maybe there are other young ones in love, playing a little game of hide and seek with their elders.
I still mark this season the most romantic one of the year, the one that gets the first loves together.
He would always pass by on his cycle, come rain or sunshine, just to get a glimpse of me. And I, waiting in earnest, with a hot cup of my evening tea, by my window side, listening for the familiar ring of the bell until he appeared.
At that young an age, just a sight of him would make me dance with glee. The joy knew no bounds. Once in a while we would encounter each other in the park, where I would gladly go with my younger siblings, knowing he would be there.
We’d casually greet each other and sit on the park bench, while the younger ones played. Those times together were especially precious since we rarely met otherwise.
We didn’t meet or speak to each other for the fear of being found out, and then there were the neighbors’ sharp tongues. But making no arrangements at all was convenient enough.
There were no complications in this relationship, no hurt, no pain.
Like most young first loves this too ceased to exist, and the relationship came to an end. It did hurt a little, but then there was no remorse.
For years the rain would keep me a little reminder of my first love, and now through the rain I can hear the faint ring of the cycle bell, maybe there are other young ones in love, playing a little game of hide and seek with their elders.
I still mark this season the most romantic one of the year, the one that gets the first loves together.
A Touch of Magic
As I reminiscence my childhood days, a dreamy smile crosses my face. A voracious reader, I found solace in the books that I read. Not that I shunned the world around me, but basically I was a dreamer and I would love to get lost in the magical worlds woven by writers.
Enid Blyton’s books always fascinated me, and they still do.
The naughty children, the kinder ones, the elves, pixies fairies and the gnomes; all seemed so real, something that I had to find and go after.
I would sometimes wander about in my garden in the evening hoping to meet a little pixie who would take me to his magical land. At times in the night I would wonder if my toys had come alive and were perhaps having a party. I anticipated the day that a fairy would suddenly appear in my room, beautiful and bright, with lovely wings and a fine shiny blue dress, and take me away to meet the little magical folk or perhaps to the fairy ball.
I would always make a conscious effort to do at least one good deed a day, lest the Fairy Godmother was watching over me; and if she was pleased she would come and bless me with her starry wand. If I’d been particularly naughty on any day, my guilty conscience would tell me that I was the one who drove the pixies and fairies away from me.
While on a picnic or a stroll in the park, my heart hoped to find the Enchanted Woods or discover the Magic Tree that was inhabited by magic folk. If not that, the hunt for the four-leaved clover was unfruitful yet endless; I wanted those wishes to come true.
My chair in the study never grew wings and I wondered if I could get hold of a brownie to rub some magic potion on it, so that it could take me to the wonderful magical lands that I wished for; Chocolate Land or The Land of Candies; where I could pick up candy flowers on the pathway, treat myself to some yummy chocolate sauce which flowed as a little stream.
As I advanced to being a teenager these magical things were all locked up and shut, never to be opened again. But I was wrong; as I write about it now, I still do wish I could be with these magic folk.
And one day I do hope my chair grows wings so that I can be off to a wonderful land never to be back again.
Enid Blyton’s books always fascinated me, and they still do.
The naughty children, the kinder ones, the elves, pixies fairies and the gnomes; all seemed so real, something that I had to find and go after.
I would sometimes wander about in my garden in the evening hoping to meet a little pixie who would take me to his magical land. At times in the night I would wonder if my toys had come alive and were perhaps having a party. I anticipated the day that a fairy would suddenly appear in my room, beautiful and bright, with lovely wings and a fine shiny blue dress, and take me away to meet the little magical folk or perhaps to the fairy ball.
I would always make a conscious effort to do at least one good deed a day, lest the Fairy Godmother was watching over me; and if she was pleased she would come and bless me with her starry wand. If I’d been particularly naughty on any day, my guilty conscience would tell me that I was the one who drove the pixies and fairies away from me.
While on a picnic or a stroll in the park, my heart hoped to find the Enchanted Woods or discover the Magic Tree that was inhabited by magic folk. If not that, the hunt for the four-leaved clover was unfruitful yet endless; I wanted those wishes to come true.
My chair in the study never grew wings and I wondered if I could get hold of a brownie to rub some magic potion on it, so that it could take me to the wonderful magical lands that I wished for; Chocolate Land or The Land of Candies; where I could pick up candy flowers on the pathway, treat myself to some yummy chocolate sauce which flowed as a little stream.
As I advanced to being a teenager these magical things were all locked up and shut, never to be opened again. But I was wrong; as I write about it now, I still do wish I could be with these magic folk.
And one day I do hope my chair grows wings so that I can be off to a wonderful land never to be back again.
True Lies
Before marriage a close friend of mine dressed as she liked; in short skirts or jeans or whatever she felt comfortable in. Her parents too were liberal and I think a dress code would be brought into picture only if her eccentric grandmother visited.
Muslims proclaim that Islam is the only true faith. Do you know Christianity also claims to be the one true faith? :)
A person quoted on a writers’ forum about his friend:
“I have a Saudi colleague who studied and worked in US. He had a gala life, with multiple sexual partners, drink, partying and the rest that the ‘decadent’ west offers. After returning to Saudi he married and now prohibits his wife to go out anywhere without a burkha and to talk to any men. He has tried often to convince me to have many wives, because women are inferior and objects. And he an MS in chemical engineering from Purdue.”
I'd say that would be typical egoistical, chauvinistic behaviour. He wants to have his way that’s all.
I don’t think it is anything to do with religion, though they do like to blame it on religion. It is just an escape route, to justify their behaviour.
This same friend of mine is now married to her boyfriend, also a Muslim. While they were dating he had no problems with the kind of clothes she wore. It was just that she was so pretty that he wanted to show her off to his friends.
Once they got married he started talking about religion and how Islam did not allow women to wear revealing clothes. Of course just before the wedding he tried to even force the Burkha on her but she threatened to call off the wedding, that's when he conceded.
I think this is just chauvinistic behaviour being blamed on religion.
Talking about fundamentalism, it probably works in strange ways and can be sparked even by someone like you and I.
Years ago there was an incident about four nuns being raped. Two of us friends were discussing the incident. My friend questioned why the Christian missionaries had to go and convert all people to Christianity. I agree, no religion should force itself on another.
Then she said something that shocked me, "Those nuns deserved what they got. What right has she to convert a Hindu to Christianity?" I lost all respect for her that minute. Maybe she was being a fundamentalist, but a crime such as rape cannot be justified there, and that too being a woman.
In many cases I think religion is taken advantage of and that is what is sad.
I used to go to Church every Sunday, for Mama's sake. Just so that she was convinced that I wasn’t an atheist. :)
I would listen to the padre's sermon with intent. No offence to other padres but this particular one who I would listen to every Sunday spoke bullshit.
One Sunday, and this was during election time, he had the gall to mention in his sermon that we should vote for Congress and not the BJP. For want of not being a public nuisance I shut my trap, I went looking for him after the mass but he seemed to have disappeared.
Another Sunday I go to church and this same chap is serving mass. This time during his sermon he talks about the Hindu faith and how Hindus worship multiple Gods. This man who cannot explain the Holy Trinity, whose faith has 15 mysteries (Wikipedia talks about an additional five called the luminous mysteries. Gosh it has been so long!) has no right whatsoever to question how another religion functions or works.
For me religion is to live a way of life that is not detrimental to anybody. Do your good deed for the day (yeah, convent education does that to you), it will make you happy.
Isn't that why the concept of religion was brought into existence? To create a fear of an unknown force, so that people lived a disciplined life and righteous life.
It is indeed sad that sometimes people take extreme actions in the name of faith and religion.
Muslims proclaim that Islam is the only true faith. Do you know Christianity also claims to be the one true faith? :)
A person quoted on a writers’ forum about his friend:
“I have a Saudi colleague who studied and worked in US. He had a gala life, with multiple sexual partners, drink, partying and the rest that the ‘decadent’ west offers. After returning to Saudi he married and now prohibits his wife to go out anywhere without a burkha and to talk to any men. He has tried often to convince me to have many wives, because women are inferior and objects. And he an MS in chemical engineering from Purdue.”
I'd say that would be typical egoistical, chauvinistic behaviour. He wants to have his way that’s all.
I don’t think it is anything to do with religion, though they do like to blame it on religion. It is just an escape route, to justify their behaviour.
This same friend of mine is now married to her boyfriend, also a Muslim. While they were dating he had no problems with the kind of clothes she wore. It was just that she was so pretty that he wanted to show her off to his friends.
Once they got married he started talking about religion and how Islam did not allow women to wear revealing clothes. Of course just before the wedding he tried to even force the Burkha on her but she threatened to call off the wedding, that's when he conceded.
I think this is just chauvinistic behaviour being blamed on religion.
Talking about fundamentalism, it probably works in strange ways and can be sparked even by someone like you and I.
Years ago there was an incident about four nuns being raped. Two of us friends were discussing the incident. My friend questioned why the Christian missionaries had to go and convert all people to Christianity. I agree, no religion should force itself on another.
Then she said something that shocked me, "Those nuns deserved what they got. What right has she to convert a Hindu to Christianity?" I lost all respect for her that minute. Maybe she was being a fundamentalist, but a crime such as rape cannot be justified there, and that too being a woman.
In many cases I think religion is taken advantage of and that is what is sad.
I used to go to Church every Sunday, for Mama's sake. Just so that she was convinced that I wasn’t an atheist. :)
I would listen to the padre's sermon with intent. No offence to other padres but this particular one who I would listen to every Sunday spoke bullshit.
One Sunday, and this was during election time, he had the gall to mention in his sermon that we should vote for Congress and not the BJP. For want of not being a public nuisance I shut my trap, I went looking for him after the mass but he seemed to have disappeared.
Another Sunday I go to church and this same chap is serving mass. This time during his sermon he talks about the Hindu faith and how Hindus worship multiple Gods. This man who cannot explain the Holy Trinity, whose faith has 15 mysteries (Wikipedia talks about an additional five called the luminous mysteries. Gosh it has been so long!) has no right whatsoever to question how another religion functions or works.
For me religion is to live a way of life that is not detrimental to anybody. Do your good deed for the day (yeah, convent education does that to you), it will make you happy.
Isn't that why the concept of religion was brought into existence? To create a fear of an unknown force, so that people lived a disciplined life and righteous life.
It is indeed sad that sometimes people take extreme actions in the name of faith and religion.
About Me
1. Unmanageable wavy hair
2. Futile attempts at the weight loss program (Refer to point 6)
3. Have the skin composition of a teenager, which is not soft and creamy but bumpy and pimply
4. Friends treat me as one of the guys; I discovered no amount of makeup or extremely feminine dressing will make them change their minds.
Ultimately I'd end up a sure product for Aahat and the extremely feminine dressing prompts people to address me as Behenji, Aunty, Mommy,...
5. I come from a family of six, four brothers and a sister. (I know this is like a 4th date revelation, but I am proud of my family)
6. I love chocolate, I am a self proclaimed chocoholic. (This puts the whole weight loss thing into perspective huh?)
2. Futile attempts at the weight loss program (Refer to point 6)
3. Have the skin composition of a teenager, which is not soft and creamy but bumpy and pimply
4. Friends treat me as one of the guys; I discovered no amount of makeup or extremely feminine dressing will make them change their minds.
Ultimately I'd end up a sure product for Aahat and the extremely feminine dressing prompts people to address me as Behenji, Aunty, Mommy,...
5. I come from a family of six, four brothers and a sister. (I know this is like a 4th date revelation, but I am proud of my family)
6. I love chocolate, I am a self proclaimed chocoholic. (This puts the whole weight loss thing into perspective huh?)
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