Bloglets: of love affairs and anniversaries!

Nov. 27^th marks 5 years since I packed my bags and left Mumbai for the big bad world of New York City. I had promised friends and family and especially the boy that it’s just an experiment for 6 months as I don’t want to let go of an opportunity to try something new. You see FOMO (fear of missing out) & YOLO (you only live once) have driven a lot of such random but wondrous decisions in my life! And if that was not yuppie enough for you, I got No DICE! 

It’s like they say, days and weeks are long in the passing but years go by quickly. I cannot even attempt to try to capture the essence of 5 years of my life here in one bloglet and but I will try to acknowledge it bit by bit and what’s left unsaid are stories that, long nights and bottles of wines are for.

First things first, I love New York city only because it’s the greatest city in the world, period. You’ll just have to take my word for it. For someone who’s always suffered from the immigrant’s conundrum, I have found New York City to be home. I have thrived in this city and connected with it despite being an outsider because everyone else here is an outsider too. It’s as much mine as anyone else’s and I own every bit of New York proudly, even the dark and dingy alleys near Port authority. I don’t think I am even an inch closer to being an American in the last 5 years but I feel and live like a New Yorker. Heck, I became one the day I packed my bags and left India. And on this day of thanksgiving, I am very thankful that I did! 

Despite this love affair, sometimes one has to leave home and go explore the world. Maybe some of us are probably not meant to be at one place, are probably wanderers by spirit or driven by the primal instinct of looking for better opportunities to feed themselves and their clan.  As I am getting close to the end of my stay here, it’s time for this Bihari to pack her Bihari roots, her New Yorker snoots and head to London in search of more of life’s adventure, meaning and je ne sais quoi!!

P.s. Nov 27th is also my engagement  anniversary & my elder brother's birthday ! What a glorious day !  

 To be continued ……..

In pursuit of pseudo intellectualism

It may be a sign of an early onset of mid-life crisis or after effect of some close friends moving away, physically or symbolically. However, I am convinced that I want to spend more time knowing about my friends and the world than just hanging out at a brunch or at a bar or a club (albeit it’s always a good time). This may mean some meaningful and some pretty awkward conversations but am willing to take the risk. 

Some friends including myself blamed it on my wannabe intellectual side and another friend blamed it on my regressed hippie side but that did not stop me from my pursuit. However, when I set up a blooming tea in a kettle and lit up incense sticks for my first soiree where I asked my friends to share a literary piece that had impacted them in life and how, I could not exactly fault these claims.

I am a firm believer in conversations, connections or moments that happen organically. However, in this day and age, distractions are one too many. Hence, sometimes an external stimulus might be needed, thus explaining the pseudo in my pursuit of intellectualism. Like regular extroverts and narcissists, we all love talking about ourselves but all that mumbo jumbo barely gives away what we really think of our lives, goals and the world unless prodded and no two friends can stake claims to a great friendship without knowing these things about each other. 

It turned out that these ideas were being resonated by almost everyone in my group here in New York in some shape or form and hence the proposal to occasionally dedicate some of our time to doing, reading, exploring or learning something new in lieu or in addition to alcohol and food was actually lapped up and quite a few promised to show up for the first soiree. An outcome I was pleasantly surprised and even bit skeptical about as I thought they'd collectively prank me and not show up. 

For the first turnout, we cracked enough jokes to get the awkwardness out of the way and the icebreaker game of identifying the lie out of three supposed facts a person told about himself or herself helped set the tone for more serious discussions. And so we shared; experiences about dealing with loss, accepting failure, falling in love, coping with inability to help others and yet supporting them or giving them hope, relationships with family members, learnings for life, exact nightly hour of raging sexual drive and you could see the body language warm with each conversation as we spent hours just sitting around, doing nothing but talking and sharing. 

Everyone was willing to share a part of their lives or emotions that they had carefully bundled away in some corner for fear of exposing themselves or just out of shyness or the fact that no one ever asked. Speaking of never asking, it slowly dawned on us that none of us knew what others did for a living, whether we loved or hated our jobs or were in love with our bosses. There would be nuggets of info here and there but not a single person had piecemealed all of them together. Hence, we decided to focus on knowing what we did for a living during the next meet up as an icebreaker quiz. Turns out, the only thing we were right about what others did for a living was – we truly had no frigging clue. 

So for the next soiree with a lovely view of the Empire state, we learnt about SaaS, how companies now prefer to build things in agile fashion than undertake long drawn projects, how central banks use Forex as a means to control inflation, how a portfolio manager can do insider trading, why we find certain restaurants at all the airports, how medical patents work, how PE funds are investing in software companies, why my Facebook feed shows ads for Neiman Marcus, who’s buying all the real estate and, how members moving away physically could actually be the best thing for a networking group.We also learnt how one of us could not take a pee break at work, another actually cold called CXOs for a living, a product manager wanted to become an entrepreneur, the one creating financial modules wanted to become a product manager, how two of us pretty much did the same exact thing for a living and how one of us would rather be baking than accounting.On an aside we also got to know about friends looking for career or job changes and how some of us could actually help make a few connections.  

We then dived into more intense and personal questions and some pretty goofy stuff but I would save that for another time. I would be naïve to think that these meetups would lead to some sort of spiritual nirvana or forge the deepest connections but am pretty sure, it will lead us to understand more about each other and more importantly, create a safe microcosm to be able to freely share our frustrations, weaknesses, happiness and life goals. As in many cases, it’s the side effects that may outweigh the immediate results. I have had more conversations about books we read, poetry we enjoy, life’s philosophies in last couple of months than probably even last few years. So, here's hoping that this continues as sustained enthusiasm is what separates the more evolved of our species from lesser mortals.

Bloglets: Holi ! Hues of Nostalgia, Romance and Survival

Holi for the uninitiated is the Indian ‘festival of colors' which signals the arrival of spring and also coincides with the Hindu new year. One cannot escape the vibrant cacophony of colors around Holi; so, I decided to add a bit of color to my blog in the spirit of holi! Well, technically I wanted to represent the multiple hues through various perspectives, but coloring my fonts seemed so much easier and fun!

Didn't I say, I was in mood for some fun, so I painted too :)

As for adding color through perspectives, I will give that a shot too and if you do not like it, I have a popular Hindi adage associated with this festival for you - ‘बु रा ना मानो होली है ’. This literally means, ‘do not get upset, it’s Holi’ but mostly implies ‘I will do whatever the f&*# I want, deal with it because it’s Holi ’.

It’s one of the festivals that make me very nostalgic about my hometown and childhood. To begin with, Holi legitimized everything that would have landed me in trouble any other day of the year. Whether it was running on streets with abandon, getting dirty, playing with anything that can be used as a proxy for color, using ammunition like water balloons and color slings, bickering over pichkaris (weapons of water based mass destruction), hiding in inaccessible places..you name it. On top of that, Holi in my hometown was anything but civil. Oil paint, mud, cow dung, garbage, ponds to dunk people; anything was fair game. Only if you have been party to that ‘anything goes’ kind of Holi, will you understand the kind of base and free spirit it reminds me of. I am sure the mention of some of these will lead to a few crinkled noses, but I’ll take my chances.

In absence of any images of Holi from back home; close second from web (Source: http://iarani.blogspot.com/) 

Apart from the interesting choice of ammo, the strategies and rigour that went into it, made it even more memorable. We would douse ourselves in oil so that the colors won’t stick. Some would paint their own faces so other’s don’t get the pleasure and some would hide behind shields (locked doors, old grandparents, babies) palpitating and dreading their capture if it came to that, and mostly it did. Most kids would wear something that had not been worn in last few years and would at least be a few sizes too small (Try arguing with a middle class Indian mother!) for obvious reasons. If you really played Holi, piece of your clothing inevitably went home in your friend’s pocket. Then came the part around taking off colors where everyone would share tips on how best to get rid of the color or peel your skin, whichever happened first.  

It was also probably the only time when looking like a boy (I didn't know I had rights !) worked to my advantage as I was not the first target of the boys’ gangs. Yes, there were all sorts of gangs who would take to streets and visit all the houses in the colony looking for their willing or unwilling targets. Gangs of young boys and girls who would start early and make initial rounds, followed by the male members and then the female members would join in after all the cooking was done.One of my favorite memories of Holi is of my dad carving out logos or funny quotes that he would stamp on people’s clothes and my mom humming while cooking delicacies in the kitchen.

'Lathmar' Holi in Barsana (Braj) ; source (wikipedia; image by Narender9)  

A flirtatious society is usually a healthy society and the red of romance is an integral hue of Holi. No festival imbibes the naughtiness and flirtatiousness of Holi; which probably is second only to Garba in Gujarat during Navratras when it comes to sexual escapades. Part of this could be attributed to the fact that in local folklore, this festival finds its origins in Lord Krishna’s raas-leela (flirting and romancing) with thousands of his girlfriends/wives (16000 to be precise). Yeah, he is a GOD! Come to think of it, Holi epitomizes the dichotomy in Indian society. A prudish and sexist society legitimizes flirtation, free intermingling of sexes and thandai (Indian milk based drink often laced with bhang, a form of weed) during this festival which surprisingly also hardly has any religious rituals associated with it. So, we get one day of having pure unadulterated fun in the year(thank you ancestors!). Hence, I also feel that we do a poor job of promoting this festival. The lathmar holi; when women play act beating up the men with sticks and the stampede of color in Barsana in Braj (birthplace of Krishna) can rival any cultural travel experience in the world whether it’s Tomatina in or  Boryeong. 

Life in technicolor during 2014 Holi party in Brooklyn 

Even though I am usually mentally prepared but sometimes, there is a sharp tinge in my heart when I wake up hoping to see colored faces, some fervent running, shrieks and smell of “gujiyas” (typical Holi dessert, similar to sweet empanadas) and instead find that it’s just another snowed in day in New York. Thankfully, I have a few partners in crime and we try to create our own microcosm on festivals. So, even though our Holi starts at 10 PM with Indian take out and is played strictly with dry colors within a radius of 1 meter in my apartment; we still make it a point to celebrate Holi on the same day as in India every year. 

Holi 2014 in my apartment 

I know I've been reminiscing like an old lady but frankly it's not so bad. Living in New York comes with its own set of perks and you get to celebrate festivals from across the world. There are a few Holi events every year, granted they could happen 3 months after Holi. The Brooklyn open air Holi event last year in May (Holi typically is in March) with the smog of dry colors, technicolor faces, rap and hip hop music and, food carts selling chicken wings to South Indian dosa was as much a success as it was representative of the cultural melting pot that New York is. This year, a day party in Midtown Manhattan on Holi weekend was timely and more than made up for missing out on fun at home with some Bollywood numbers, dhol and non-stop revelry.   

Holi Party 2015 

To no surprise, the free spirit of Holi can also be misused but I don’t want to go back to black today so saving that rant for a darker day. And yes, the colors can harm your skin, eyes and hair and but then so can sun, air, and rain; so, I'd still say play a little, live a little. My olfactory memory is in overdrive as I write this and I can almost smell my mom's cooking and am humming ‘रंग  बरसे भीगे चुनार वाली' (a famous and definitely inappropriate Indian song about a girl getting drenched in Holi colors).

Bloglets: Of Semi Ski Trips

In addition to having to wade through several feet of snow or slush (if you live in New York); winter in this part of the world also earmarks the period of supposedly fun and adrenaline filled ski season. I recently went to my annual ritual of a trip to upstate New York (Hunter/ Wyndham) for a semi ski trip. I call it semi because only half the crew (5 out of 10 people) did partake in any form of skiing and the rest preferred slipping into the warmth of blankets over slipping on the slopes. To be fair, it was probably the smartest thing to do, given these were the choices (refer image below). 

The choices were pretty self explanatory 

My ambivalence towards snow or ski is not very difficult to explain. While exciting and new, it’s also something most people born and brought up in Indian peninsula have not been equipped or trained to deal with. The romance of first snow is so enticing that I myself have made innocuous prayers for it to snow like crazy. However, reality hits when you end up spending most of your day shoveling or avoiding a hip fracture while performing basic life tasks like walking or standing. The romance wears off pretty quickly after that, like in case of a beautiful but belligerent bride. 

My first ski lesson 

One can come across many wide eyed Indians including yours truly, who are thrilled about their first ski trip, primarily due to the novelty factor and the fact that they have no idea what it entails. Very soon they realize that 'these (ski) boots are not made for walking'. Also, that first trip pretty much seals one’s ski destiny. The first category takes to it naturally and finds itself engulfed by the passion for skiing and heads for glory on the Black diamond slopes and maybe even a few broken ribs in their attempts to tame the shrew (continuing with my analogy). At the opposite end is the category of the ones who cannot ski for their life and make peace with the fact that they are physiologically not made for this sport. A realization which comes easily when a toddler swooshes by while they are still taking ski lessons or figuring out how not to dislocate their ankles while trying to stand up with some ounce of dignity or when skiing translates into falling and rolling on the slopes for most part. Then there is the third category who will continue to have a love-hate relationship with skiing as they are decent enough to not absolutely hate it but can never be good enough to really enjoy it. 

I believe that I fall closer to the third category. I have made peace with the fact that I do not want to put myself through the pains to become mediocre at something I barely enjoy. At the same time, I cannot let go of an idea of a ski trip which usually also involves a road trip, a cabin filled with friends, laughter with something or the other always brewing or cooking (usually gossip, romance, Irish coffee, hot cocoa and brownies in that order) and where snow fights are the game du jour. 

Ski Trip to Hunter

Hence, I have found the “Golden mean” in snow tubing. The slopes are not too high, the lines are shorter and, it requires no unusual gear and little or no maneuvering to come down the slopes. Also, your behind is happily and safely perched on a tube and you look more like a funny pretzel than a pair of crooked chopsticks about to break. What’s even better is that you can find company in your misery or fun as you can do it in tandem with other friends.

Snow tubing on Hunter (courtesy google images as I was too busy having fun to take pictures) 

Another reason why I personally am not a big fan is how shabby the ski clothes make me look. With my jumpsuit and down jacket and the ski boots, I look like a stuffed teddy bear that is ready to go splat on her face. This fashion fiasco is just not limited to me but applies to anyone who does not want to drop a few thousand dollars for this seasonal activity. On that note, I recently discovered that brand snobbery is very much a part of anyone who takes up skiing seriously. Hiding behind those giant ski goggles, there is as much of scrutiny of the brand names and tags on the slopes of Vermont or Vail (popular ski destinations) as there is on 5^th avenue (famous for shopping in NYC). To put things in perspective, a discussion around a rocker or a camber (types of ski) is akin to having a discussion around cross-body or a minaudière (types of evening bags) and justification for anything expensive as an investment piece is no different, whether it's on the slopes or in the fashion echelons of NYC.

Another group ski trip pic with our 'fashionable' ski gear :)

I have always wondered why people choose skiing when there are options like snow tubing, dog sledging, snowmobiling etc. Ok fine, dog sledging is probably cruel but snow mobile or tubing? But then again, I have never understood why people do soul cycling either: P. Now, all this ski talk is making me want to fix up a hot chocolate with Baileys and reminisce about the time not spent on the slopes during our last trip to Catskills where we had rented out a fantastic cabin in the woods. While I am at it, I may order some chicken wings to go with the barbecue sauce I bought at the Catskill Mountain country store (highly recommended for brunch and it's condiments). 

From Bihar to Big Apple Bloglets: Of birthdays and growing old

It seems to be the right time to pick up the pieces and break this reverie that I have gotten myself into. Also, in the interest of being regular, I plan to post some of these mini blogs (bloglets as I call them) along with the unusually long ones while I live and grow through the nouveau and banal experiences in the fabulous city of New York. I am hoping these bloglets will be crisp, frequent and, diverse. If I am up to any good, they'll also be interesting. 

Well, in terms of timing, I am approaching my 31^st birthday this week and the one thing I have realized is nothing humbles you & makes you realize certain truths more than age. While, knowledge and wisdom are no prerogatives of age, realization definitely is. The fact that being able to sip a cup of coffee in “central perk” pop up shop on Friend’s 20^th anniversary is a subject non grata for a lot of folks I interact with, made me realize that I am already part of an "older generation".

I on the other hand, am still trying to figure out what I need to do with my life so it seems kind of harsh that I am already old :P. Not helping, is that extra perk I have being a female; yes, I am talking about the proverbial body clock that's perennially ticking. So, between being chronologically adult and psychologically adolescent, 30s could be a disorienting era. Thankfully, I have company as there is supposedly an entire Peter Pan generation of similar disoriented souls. :P. Here's hoping that an entire generation cannot go wrong (excluding the 80s fashion sense or 90s depending on your preference) !

Another thing that comes with age is a reconciliation of the fact that despite your best attempts, you cannot avoid being like your parents. Living 1000s of miles away from them, not having spent more than 2 weeks in a row continuously with them in past however many years; you find yourself doing little things just like them. Same annoying little things that you absolutely swore to stay away from. Not sure if it’s good or bad but it’s also the time some of us start looking like our parents. I have a picture of my mom when she was about the same age as I am and it’s hard to point out the differences except, she looks a lot skinnier despite having had two kids.

But as they say, 30s are the new 20s and I am just getting started. I had a cantaloupe mimosa for a Monday morning beverage and skydived from 10000 feet on a Tuesday afternoon this week. I don't have that many visible wrinkles yet(here's hoping) and still have the belief that I can make a difference. I can afford most of the stuff I aspired growing up but now I aspire for finding experiences I love, doing work I enjoy and living a life where I learn and grow every day. I still take selfies (rather, I am a pro at it) and check in on Facebook. Yes, I am not THAT cool yet but I think I might just take to this growing old thing well. 

Also, while we are on this topic; may I propose taking some time off on your birthday. Why not take one day to celebrate yourself and do something that you have never found the time to do so far or to think about who you have become and who you want to be. The whole world goes through the rigmarole of making New Year resolutions but why not makes those resolutions around your birthday as technically that’s when your new year starts. I survived turning 30 by making a list of 30 things to do before my birthday which actually made me look forward to it than dreading it. You may call it vain but I see no harm in sitting down and smelling the roses once a year or jumping off a cliff if that catches your fancy!