I googled...sorry, goggled at this!

Apparently, an advanced journalism class at Yale thinks that Watergate would've been a piece of cake in the Google era. 

Is it just me, or isn't it apparent that the 'human source' factor + actual manual effort cannot be eliminated in journalism????

On second thoughts, what ARE those @$$es doing at Yale while I'm sitting here??? :-/

Bah!

You can read the story here.

Before the ink dries

Paul is dead.

The psycho psychic octopus silly..... I'm not grieving a dead love or something.

And in case you'd like to refresh your memory, here he is.

The hype and hoopla surrounding this particular cephalopod was understandable..... after all, what are the odds of getting an entire series of game winners right, time and again?

What got me to post today was something else, though.....

True to form, the media has played up the 'tragic passing' bit ..... But as far as I know, the Malayala Manorama is the only paper to devote 25% of the front page to it!

Am too busy thanking God though.....

....last I heard, there wasn't anything about Paul's 'Malayali connection' in that article.

For the uninitiated, the Malayala Manorama's made a fine art of digging into a celebrity's past and coming up with the sole recorded (E.g.: In Timbuktu, in 1878....) instance of his/her passing within a kilometer of a Mallu. And if there were any head nods or hi-hello's, things automatically progress to deep and long relationship with Kerala status. You can imagine how it takes on a soul-connection twist if there's some back-slapping involved.

And as far as I can remember, Osama (yep, him of the bomb-slinging, cave video-making fame) is the only other living being of global repute to escape the net.

As for Paul, there's still time.

Time enough to dig out a Joji/Kader/Biju who took care of/ cradled in his arms/nearly fried/wept for Paul.

I'll be watching that front page.

Enna Koduma Saar Ithu?!?!?!

I’m a coupla months into the new job now, and all’s well so far. Please note that the operative phrase is ‘so far’. :) And the next time someone asks you, it IS true..... Switching to classroom mode is near impossible after you’ve gotten used to an office routine.

Yours truly finds her head swaying dangerously within twenty minutes of starting a class, like she’s a teetering coconut tree/pissed drunk/a hired cabaret dancer/whatever….Zzzz!!

No, that wasn’t supposed to make sense.

The net result is that my similarly fresh-in-the-system colleagues get some free entertainment at my expense. They think that my eyeballs drifting in opposite directions are a treat to behold. Well, I guess you gotta keep yourself entertained when there isn’t one remotely cute guy in the vicinity.

Change that to ‘one guy on the right side of forty’.

Gloom. :'((

Anyway, this post is to commemorate the fact that I’ll always find a proverbial haddi in the kabab platter that I call my professional life.

The haddi in this case is a trainer who periodically saddles bestows his excruciating self on an unsuspecting batch. Dude’s a doctorate holder in Management who, quite interestingly, treats MBAs like the scum of the earth. The cherry on top is that he also can’t stand private commercial banks and everything they stand for.... that should give you a good idea of where I stand in his version of the professional food chain. ;P

The only definite ‘learning’ I can boast of after his sessions is that I’ve indefinitely postponed all plans of entering the academic side of management. I swear I haven’t come across a more pompous know-all. All of us are secure in the knowledge that nothing we can ever say or do is correct or astounding enough for his liking.

Add to that the fact that his name sounds almost exactly like popular lingo for the posterior.

Cackle, cackle!!!>;-D

Note: Despite the jibes this IS a lament of sorts.

FYI, the Zahra Code of Conduct is explicitly against ridiculing accents and poor grammar, but the rules were amended recently to exempt bombastic profs who pretend to know everything and massacre the language too.

Aadiyo-vishwal taarchur yat its best-eye-sayyy....

Here’s a sampler…. Read aloud for maximum effect.

Prof: Yinn dhee kaanteksht aaff this try-ning, yoo are yekspected to no dhee sigh-nergeezz aaff bizznuss praacess.....

Zahra: Eh?? Vaat-yoo aar saiyying-eye-say....

Prof: ....Akkaarding tuyoo, vaat dhees sigh-nergee eess?

Colleague: (Fairly coherent answer)

Prof: Oooaahh…..vyyy yoowall aar taalkingg lik-eh vanilla yumbeeyaayys?? Yinn yuwar carriers (sic) widh-dhees UFO (Unidentified Financial Organization) yoo shudd gobee yondha sir-faze aaff yish-shoes....(proceeds to repeat colleague’s points under the guise of the correct answer) ....blah blah blah.

Zahra: Hai bhagwan, main vanilla se tutti-frutti kab banoongi? :-/

Prof: Drone, drone....shaaar yuwar yuck-speriyenss with the group no? Yennydhingg yoowandoo shaar?

Zahra: Vaat....I mean...what? Err...Ummm....(How about “I’m a recovering alcoholic”?)

Note: “Yuck”-speriyenss is closer to the truth than he thinks.

Zahra: (Gas, globe and gyaan. All delivered at the speed of....well...sound.)

Well, whaddya expect??? I'm an MBA, okay??

Prof: (Gas, globe, and gyaan....to the effect that Zahra is a prime example of a useless product of a useless management education system, with a useless commercial bank ex-employer to boot....)

Zahra: Sighhhh....can’t win ‘em all y’know....

The fact that I narrowly missed being interviewed by this man is proof enough for me that there is a God AND He luuuuuuuuuuvvs me :D

The second point in favor of that claim is that my current boss is a person who’s actually got a reputation for being sane. And all that I’ve seen so far confirms it….. yeah, it’s too early to tell, but who cares?? Carpe diem, folks!!!

Interesting aside: Trainer dude keeps sporting a series of grimaces while talking....I first thought he was in physical pain, but then realized that it was an indicator of the seriousness of the topic.

On second thoughts, it could actually be a bad case of hemorrhoids.

Tricky things, these.

Prof: Dhink shtraaatejickalee....dhink lie-kku seenyur maan-age-urrrssss....bakwaas bakwaas bakwaas.....

Zahra: Yes, yes, I swear I will....but for the love of God, let us go!!

Finally, the class ends…or rather, is forcibly ended by a bunch of cranky, irritated, new recruits on various pretexts.

And so we live (barely just) to fight another day.

Not that we particularly want to.

Of Days When We Were Happy And....

Go on, say it.

If you are a product of the school syllabus of the eighties-cum-nineties like me, you would have ended that title with “…And Gay”.

Well, mentally at least.

I know most of these meanings existed long before I was born…but, aahhhh….for those innocent (well, almost) days when we chanted rhymes starring people in near-obscene states of happiness.

When fairies used to be these perfectly sweet little winged creatures that little girls and boys could believe in. And be friends with. Even want to play with.

Get your mind out of the gutter. This instant.

And faggots were meant to be gathered and burned with no question of an activist in the scene. I know some folks who’d still like to believe that, but that’s another post.

Of times when we weren’t old enough, or in my case informed enough, to burst into furtive titters while reading about Master Bates in Oliver Twist. In case you didn’t get that one, read it again…aloud.

Damn, did I tell you to say it out loud in your office cubicle? Really now…

Or when the gender opposite of ‘hen’ did not imply an anatomical reference of any sort.

When I could play badminton, and yell over the fence “Bhaiyya, can you pass that co….”…. errr, never mind. Today I have to bite my tongue by the time I reach the end of ‘shuttle’. Sigh.

When references to your pussy had nothing to do with your body and everything to do with your grouchy pet feline.

And buns were, well…. just buns y’know?

Don’t even get me started on nuts, balls, and screws.

When referring to your male colleague with the phrase “Good head....” wouldn’t need a withering glance at a giggler before continuing with "...for numbers.”

Really. It’s hard enough just trying to be nice to people.

When discussing who got the biggest ‘O’ didn’t draw any scandalized gasps from eavesdroppers. Y’see, doughnut boxes demand complete attention.

No, we weren’t comparing tha-a-at..... Yeah, I’ve heard pigs have it for much longer than humans do.

Hold it right there buddy, if you’ve got more questions of that kind, you’ve come to the wrong page.

Yeah, you heard me.

S.C.R.A.M.

Phew…..Where were we?

Oh yes, this might interest you.

My introduction to G-strings came via a stentorian middle-aged schoolmaster…..and nobody screamed bloody murder ‘coz the aforementioned string was on a guitar.

Guess I’m better off than a friend who was nearly lynched for casually mentioning that he was “fingering A minor” the previous night. Hmmm.

I’ve also heard choirmasters tell their singers to “Pay attention to others’ parts”. Better still, some say “Look at others’ parts”. (Wicked grin)

Seriously, the number of somethings-that-can-also-mean-something-else today makes an ordeal out of every conversation. Like, look at the ruckus Tharoor-saab kicked up with a reference of the bovine variety.

Cut to a decade from now when I (might) put my (possibly) hapless (and currently imaginary) offspring through their paces in the Queen’s language.

Kid 1: Ma, how’s this sentence? “Squirrels collect nuts for winter”.

Zahra: (Horrified) Wha…??? WHERE did you learn that??

Kid 2: Mama, Doctor-uncle asked me today if I was afraid of a prick!!

Zahra: (Hyperventilating) Ohmigod, and I thought he was a decent man....Stay calm. Breathe. Breathe. And what did you say???

Kid 2: (Proudly) I said “Of course I’m not scared!!”

Zahra: (Weakly. Very weakly.) A..a..and?

Kid 2: He gave me an injection!

I can see a very strong argument for mass sterilization and consequent blood pressure control here.

On a final note, let’s bow to the masters of double entendre....that’s John Cleese and Groucho Marx in my book.

Gotta admit, this line cracks me up every time I hear it.

“If I said you have a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?”

Hey, that’s what he said!!!

:D

P.S. – To all those shady souls who’ve come here after typing ….well, shady searches…… get yer kicks elsewhere!!

Vindicated :)

A few months ago, I had put up this post which talked about a major career decision I'd made. I'd also given a pretty clear indicator of who was responsible for that choice...or rather, forced me into that choice.

The months since have not been very easy. A freelancing opportunity does give me a small yet steady cash stream, but that is no substitute for a full-time job. More importantly, it is nowhere near what I plan and hope to achieve in a career. Explaining a break like this to a prospective employer is no cakewalk. Especially since, "My boss was a jerk" as a reason does nothing to improve my chances even if it is the undiluted truth.

The sole upside is that I have reason to believe that the job quest will soon be over..... until I know for sure though, I'm gonna be keeping my fingers, toes and eyes crossed. :)

But this post wasn't meant to be about any of that.

I've had mixed reactions to the choice I made. A handful agrees with me. Most have gone on to add "bonkers" to their list of adjectives describing yours truly. There have also been folks who were kind enough to suggest that I could afford to do this since I am the spoilt only child and daughter at that of a family that's comfortably off. I use the word kind 'coz they made sure I heard those suggestions second-hand.

Such tact, such consideration...... charmed, I'm sure.

I have wondered a couple of times if I should've hung on a little longer......just for the sake of avoiding a gap on an already undistinguished CV. Interestingly, I was the first person to leave our ten-member team...... within five months of my resignation, the strength had come down to half.

Two (including yours truly) had openly stated the actual reason for leaving, and the others had made it known that the superior was the reason they looked out for alternatives. That soon became common knowledge in a 200-strong department. Now what would you expect to happen in the year-end appraisal after the team lead sets such a blistering record in less than six months?? I got to know today when I caught up with a colleague on chat.

The blithering @$$ got a promotion.

He got an effin' PROMOTION!!!

My reaction was laughter AND dismay. Did the guy have a secret 'forced attrition' target or something? Like "Sir, I have helped reduce manpower costs by driving my team insane and chasing half of them out of the organization"??? And a 50% weightage perhaps, for "Will aim to hamper productivity by yelling for no reason, calling for aimless meetings, and offloading bullcrap by the ton on any subordinate who refuses to think I'm god"???

W.r.t. those goals, I'm in a charitable mood right now...that should explain it.

I think the best phrase in modern lingo to describe my reaction can be summarized as WTF.

Strong language I know, but I think it's only fitting for a person who drove me to spew cuss words left, right, and centre within a week of starting to work for him. My bemused colleague tells me that she's rethinking her priorities now..... her idea of career progression techniques needs a complete overhaul after this y'see.

As for me.....

I'm still unemployed.

I'm still uncertain about how my future will shape up.

But I haven't felt SO DAMNED GOOD in a long, long time.

Y'see, I now know for sure that I took the right call then. Screaming bloody murder to anybody who paused for a second, and leaving the place for good. Making sure that the Dept head knew exactly why I'd quit, and telling him explicitly that being a junior is no reason to put up with narcissistic bullying.

I don't think I'd have forgiven myself if I'd stayed on, believing that the system would look after such characters, and then seen this development. The only disappointment is in some seniors who let this happen..... somehow, I'd hoped that they'd see the light. But then, I guess commercialism, careers, and corporate ladders don't work on those principles.

I know I have a lot to learn, and I'm not naive enough to think that the bad guys will always be nailed in the end. Mebbe my attitudes will also change over time.

But today, I'm happy. Happy and a wee bit satisfied too, 'coz I stood up for what I had to, and in a way, my stand's been vindicated.

And right now, that is all that matters to me.

:-)

On this day....

..well, yesterday actually, seeing that it's well past midnight..... errr, where was I???

Wait, let's have a go again at that, shall we??

It's thirteen years to the day since we came back to India for good...what a journey it was before, and what a journey it has been since.

Why thirteen? Why not ten? Or five?

I didn't have a blog then.

Zahra, you smartass.

Why not wait for the fifteen year mark?

Who knows what life holds? Really..... I can't remember ever using this line for myself, but here it is... There's no guarantee I'll be around then.

Thirteen...for starters that's precisely half a lifetime ago.

Yes, congratulations...so you've calculated my age. I'm thankful, really.... most folks think I'm a few years older.

I would like to believe that I am essentially the same person that stood on the threshold of teen-age at that time...... but the answer to that is yes and no. I hold certain views, opinions, and attitudes today that I wouldn't have thought possible for myself even two or three years ago. The thought is exhilarating and a little scary too. As far as I know, I haven't reached that stage in life where consistency is the norm than not, so maybe, just maybe, that comment was premature.

Back then, I had a very different idea of what my life would turn out to be. And today I'm nowhere near that image. Can't say I'm disappointed at how things have turned out..... but I can't help a faint shiver of disappointment either. Perhaps I'm still in love with the starry-eyed optimist I was then.

My relations with my parents have changed. Inevitable I guess. Things said in a fit of temper have a greater potential to wound now, than when the accuser was thirteen. On the flip side, dealing with each other on a one-to-one basis has its plus points. But there's no change to the sense of dismay I feel when I realize that our viewpoints on some important issues differ widely. I still haven't found a way to convey that my being accepting of more than one possibility does not mean that my fundamentals have eroded.

Therefore, I keep a part of myself locked away, neatly boxed and stowed deep inside. Telling myself that expressing my individuality's not always worth somebody else's pain. Then secretly resenting myself and them for it. And then feeling guilty as hell for even thinking that way. Then back to the slow-burn routine.

Ah, well, some battles never have an outcome do they?

Say what you will about burning bridges with abandon.... I say that can happen only when I really and truly know what I want. And that doesn't look set to happen for another thirteen years at least. :)

But there's one thing I really wish hadn't changed....something I nearly don't have the gumption to own up. I had a lot more faith in my ability to keep fighting and cock a snook at people, even when they put me down. The non-conformity is still there, but I've been having these moments when I'm almost apologetic about it..... Unthinkable. This calls for drastic action and quick.

So here we are. I don't think we have done too badly after all. Even if having the extended khandaan around has sharpened my migratory instincts of late. ;)

No comments on that one :)

Shabbat Shalom, two-day weekends and more filter kaapi to y'all.

Intellect - His and Hers

A sincere request to all the guys out there.....

When you talk about wanting an intelligent and accomplished woman in your life, do take a moment to consider exactly how much intelligence and accomplishment you can handle. For nine times out of ten, I've seen that a man is more comfortable if he is the intellectual superior of his partner. Preferably on the career front as well. Superior, mind you, not even equal. I don't intend for this to be a blanket statement.... I have seen some exceptions, but they have been far and few in between. Fine, so we've got a truckload of societal conditioning to deal with, but I won't get into that right now. And yes, quite a lot of women seek a partner they can look up to.

Like, dude, it's your life and your opinion. And it can significantly impact somebody else's life too. So please be frank about it, and don't try to be what you're not. In case you haven't considered this aspect till now, please do.

I really can't tell if you'll find much female support for directly/indirectly saying that you want the upper hand...... but I can assure you that the honesty will be greatly appreciated.... and respected.

Even if it takes a little while coming.

Arbit Observations #4

The Goddess is back.

Yes, you may kiss the ground.

Apologies for the no-show have already been made.....So brace yourselves for another dose of asininely arbit observations from my so-called life. What better way to kick off the blogging for this year??

Tsk tsk…. Didn’t your mama tell you that groaning audibly is rude??? Here goes.....

1. You know your life has sucked as thoroughly as it possibly can when

a. Everything that can go wrong has gone wrong
b. When you thought things couldn’t get worse, they just did
c. AND, the only email you’ve received in a week on your personal id is about a 70% discount on Viagra.

2. The ugly duckling grew up to become a swan. In Andersen’s version at least. In real life, there’s a 99.999% probability that the ugly duckling will grow up to become at best, a verrrry average DUCK. Accepting this fact has freed up an incredible amount of time for me to focus on bigger issues of life. Like the wonderful ambiguity of phrases like ‘Striking looks’ and ‘Unconventional appearance’. Oh yes, Her Royal Duckiness lets out an indignant quack every now and then, but is at peace otherwise.

3. Pointy toed shoes on men give me the creeps. Crrrreeeeeepsssss. I’m talking about the shoes that taper into a point that sticks out ten inches in front of the wearer. Call me antiquated if you will, but my support for the metrosexual man goes only as far as clean nails and good overall hygiene.

4. WHYYYY do my northie counterparts expect me to fall on any and every plate of curd rice/idlis like a starving refugee???

5. Why Zahra? Why not another name? Thought I’d explained that somewhere in this blog. Actually, Thamaraichelvi Kumudavalli and Isabel DeMontmorency St Claude were close contenders. But then I figured that a Zahra by any other name would be just as asinine. Therefore, the name with the least typing effort won.

6. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Indian men scratch their privates in public with complete abandon. Like, it’s called ‘privates’ with a purpose, right? Mebbe it’s coz of a flawed genetic strain unique to the males of our race. Something like the see-wall-MUST-pee syndrome they already suffer from. Tragic. Am going cross-eyed from all the eye-averting I do during my daily commute.

7. Never do a competent job of anything if you can help it. No more than what's needed to keep your job, I mean. Working my backside off under crazy deadlines, and pulling off the near impossible even once only translates into more loony projects coming my way...with crazier deadlines. Like I want this at 3 p.m. yesterday types.

8. Bairi Piya in Devdas is a pretty decent song, come to think of it (it’s playing on radio as I type) Would’ve been better if they’d shaved off the “Eeesh” bits and taken a good forty seconds off it. Waitaminit….that also means removing the only part of the song I can sing. Eeeeeesh!!

9. And while we’re on songs, I SOOOO miss the hostel gaana sessions. :-((

Words cannot describe the joys of singing Umrao Jaan songs with 3 other similarly challenged AND loud females at 3 a.m., while smirking at the wails of misery from adjoining rooms. (Cackle, cackle) A nice, steaming plate of Maggi at 5 a.m. and my plate...sorry, cup of happiness would overflow. Sigh.

10. I hate pointy toed sh…..Oops, that one’s done already…. Okay, I HATE random and indiscriminate displays of…. Heck, ANY display of butt cleavage. Why, people, why???? Found myself at a crowded coffee shop the other day, with several square inches of ‘it’ on display at chair-level all around (Eeewwww). Guys and gals alike. Somebody help me if I’m missing the point here. Honestly, seeing that the brief is authentic Calvin Klein doesn’t make it any less traumatic.

11. And Dostaana must’ve really sucked yaar. Oh, not that I’ve seen it. Y’see I couldn’t help but think so when all my gal-buddies denounced the movie in unison. When women say that about a movie, despite liberal close up shots of just John Abraham in just his chuddies, then you gotta do a serious rethink. Btw, I’m told his apparel is all original designer wear. Not that I’d know …and not that I think most of us gals would care ;-P

Well, that’s all the arbitness I can manage for now, so breathe easy folks. Am busy pinning up my list of new year resolutions on the wall. Oops, just lost 3 months in getting started.

Zahra, you eeeeediot, change that 8 to 9.

The Fellowship of the Ring(less)

Ohmigod.

I can’t believe I actually did this. On my last trip home , I finally gave in to my parents’ subtle demands. Oh well, ‘subtle’ is soooo 2007……. Now it’s more like the Exorcist theme score.

I…errr…. Ahem…. I…… damn, I can’t say this!!!

Oh then TYPE it out lady.

I…. cough, cough….. actually helped them create a profile for me on a matrimonial site. :( :( I solemnly swear that I don’t drink or do drugs.

Stop sniggering willya???

Btw, am pretty sure they’ve already explored multiple alternatives to foist their darling one and only onto some unwitting nalla payyan out there. Note: Do they exist???My suspicions hit an all time high when I saw a string of mails from the Malayala Manorama ID in Dad’s mailbox. I just happened to stop by his desk to ask something, and there was this sudden Alt + Tab rhythm that got started. For the uninitiated, the Malayala Manorama is not just a Mallu newspaper, it’s also the best friend of Mallu parents who don’t know what to do next with their twenty somethings.

I did have my doubts about the wisdom of it alright. Especially since

A) I’m in no particular hurry to tie the knot.
B) My parents’ and my idea of a nice guy vs okay-okay guy tend to clash occasionally
C) Have to keep reminding them that their dream son-in-law is right up there with Santa Claus, dragons and fairies….. a creature of fantasy.
D) And I have to keep reminding myself that all the guys I’ve dreamed of are unattainable public figures, who are married or committed to disgustingly gorgeous women…or just don’t exist. Sigh.
E) As a follow on to (D), the Enchantress reminds me it could be worse. The dream man might just turn out to be gay. Aiyyayyoooo…and good men are a rarity already.
F) Help me God, what if this whole website thingie actually works???? :-S

But on careful consideration it seemed only fair to help them out. After all, parents are bound to need help when they have a gorgeous, amazingly talented and supremely intelligent daughter on their hands.

No, I don’t have a sister.

Kinda dense aren’t you? I was talking about myself.

But here’s a little confession….. Browsing through some of the profiles made me think I shoulda started this eons ago…… I had no clue there was SO much entertainment on the net for free!!!! ;-D

Tomes have been written about the kinds of matrimonial ads that get published…. Some noteworthy blog posts have been dedicated to them too. But honestly, some of these profiles make you laugh out loud, or think really hard.

Among the giggle-worthy, here are some gems I found :

1. “Looking for a partner….. blah blah blah….. who also likes to cook and rear children.”
Hellooooo?!?!?! :-O Somebody pleeeeease get him a copy of Eats, shoots and leaves.

2. “She should be a candle light for me in my hours (sic) of darkness..”
Buddy, what you need is either an agony aunt or an inverter. Or a plain bulb. And you talk like you expect a LOT of darkness ahead……. NOT the best attention grabber for a future mate. Ladies, I see the potential for a lot of skeletons in this closet.

3. “I’m a coooooooool guy!!!”
I swear that’s exactly what was written. And ALL that was written. Stay far, far away from this one, Zahra-girl. This is the type your friends warned you about on Orkut.

4. “I’m a deeply religious, pious and spiritual person.”
Not that there’s anything wrong with that statement….. Faith matters to me too. But the overall tone of this particular profile left me kinda confused….. I didn’t know whether to continue reading, cross myself or light a candle. Methinks we’ve got the next Vatican canonization here.

5. “Myself a very handsome, caring, sensitive, dynamic personality….”
I just cannot compete with such perfection. You forgot to add ‘unshakeable self-esteem’ to your virtues buddy. Btw, about your profile pic….. Shades that cover 85% of your face don’t help. Especially since the uncovered 15% is not exactly standalone material….. nothing personal, just an objective observation.

My folks discreetly sugest that a profile pic will be in orer.

Mental sticky note: Upload a pic of Lolakutty.... we're talking wholesome Mallu gorge-yess-ness here.

:P


Hmmm…. One of the inescapable phases of quarter-life I guess….. at least the family’s getting some free entertainment.

Quite a few of my fellow victims in the Fellowship of the Ring(less) are in similar predicaments. My best friend (who’s a Bong) wishes that Bong guys were known for physique and looks too, not just academic credentials. Coz all her ‘prospects’ to date have been exceptionally geeky-looking Bong-men with multiple Ivy League qualifications. Anybody who can change that trend…..the geeky one….please let me know….. FYI, you’ll have to be single and Bong AND really tall (coz she is) AAANNNDDD intelligent ('coz she is, VERY) to floor this babe. There. That’s my good karma for the week.

Btw neither of us are six-pack fans, so we’re not very choosy that way. But yeah, we don’t dig family packs either.

On a serious note, it’s kinda disturbing that a LOT of people mention ‘fair’ as a criterion before education or personality or anything else. What’s with this fairness fixation anyway??? Especially when the same guys might be drooling over the not-exactly-fair Bipasha Basu. I know this horse’s been bludgeoned to death, but I just had to give my two cents’ worth of kicks.

Oh and did I tell you, I got a response to my profile the very next day ;-P

The mail started like this.....

“I came across your profile and found it SOOO interesting, I hope you don’t mind (sic)…”

There were a coupla smileys too, for my benefit. Oh yes I mind. Terribly. That profile was meant to be uninteresting and solely for my private edification.

Incidentally this guy has apparently not bothered to use a community/region/language filter while searching. Guess chronic spammers have to do their thing whenever, wherever.Needless to say, that guy’s email got the ‘Delete’ treatment.

Appaaa...AmMAAAAAAAA.... I told you this wasn’t a good idea.

A (blighted) day in the life of Zahra

9:30 a.m.

Uneventful 45-minute ride to office. I get down at the office entrance, only to have the next auto driving in wreak muddy havoc on my pristine white salwar.

Stay calm, stay positive. Breeeeeaaaathe.

It's tooooo early in the day to murder somebody, babe.

Surf Excel hai na.

Walk, no, STALK into office, snarling at the watchman on duty.

10:10 a.m.

My karmampudicha PC has taken nothing short of 30 minutes to start up. Leaving me to twiddle my thumbs and toes. The blasted machine actually flickered to life only after I folded my hands, whining "Pleeeeeaaaaase" under my breath.

I swear the thing's possessed.

10:15 a.m.

Rush to canteen for breakfast, or whatever's left of it.

Menu:

1. Missal Pav. Nope. Burned my stomach lining off with it yesterday. Gotta allow it two days to regenerate.

2. Vada Pav . Ho-hum.

3. Amb-let Pav. Huh?? Oh ok...Omelette Pav.

4. Bhajiya Pav. Honestly...this guy will stuff anything into a pav.

Finally settled for Idli-Sambar against my better judgement. Takes 20 minutes to finish as I have to step on one side of the idli and lop off chunks from the other side.

The idlis in college were better. We only had to throw them at the class rep's head.

11:30 a.m.

The Big Boss has sent out one of those "Hey guys let's catch up on the team reviews" emails to everyone.

Venue: Conference Hall

Time: 14:00 hrs IST

Date:.... (Gasp!!!) Saturday?!?!?!?

#@$#@$%#$%$!!! Please fill in with vowels and consonants of your choice. Foul language is against my credo.

Like, DUDE, you may not have a life to catch up with on weekends, but the rest of us do. Misery.... another 2 p.m. meeting where everybody walks in at 3 p.m., sits around and laughs at (supposed) witticisms till 5 p.m., and then decides to catch up with the real agenda on Monday.

Feeling blue. Solid, navy B-L-U-E.

12:50 p.m.

Vitriolic email from business head who wants his project completed 2 weeks before schedule. Really now. The Cc option should be disabled for some people. He's put his entire vertical and mine in that bar.

Debated the wisdom of replying with a subtle, sarcasm laden email describing the benefits of a nature-appreciation jaunt.

Like...'Take a hike' , y'know.

Oh, forget it. He's capable of writing back asking for a timeline for that too. Grrrrr.

1:00 p.m.

Made up my mind to go the J-Lo way and insure the same..uhh...property. Different reasons though.

Hers is admired/coveted/drooled over, around the world.

Mine is whipped outta shape, even if in the figurative sense. Actually, that hurts more.

1:40 p.m.

Lunchtime.

Karela mash and watery dal. Sour curd that'll work wonders for my stomach bacteria population.

Rice. Atta frisbees... sorry, rotis. And the works.

Mental sticky note: Prepare last will and testament. Name nominees.

2:50 p.m.

Finally. Got past the blocks and "Company policy does not permit access to this site" pop-ups and logged in to Orkut. Hmmm. Mebbe their Chinese fortune cookie-type messages will have something nice to say.

Today's fortune: You and your wife will live happily ever after.

Rrrright.

Me. And wife.

Bhaery phunny. Exactly what I needed to hear.Bad, bad Confucious. No chowmein for you.

A distant Chinese-accented voice screams, "I no say thaaaaaat!!!!"

Rocking day so far. Shouldn't surprise you that I'm pro-Tibet now.

3:00 p.m.

Moved on to Orkut scrapbook. 3 new scraps. Lemme see.

Damn. Two of them are for pasting code into the address bar to see

"Congratulations!! You've been voted the World's Biggest LOSER!!"

OR

"Warning: Preparing to self-destruct....5..4..3..2.."

The third one's a 'frand-sheep' request from some obscure geek who thinks I look garjyaass...errr...gorgeous. Did I mention that the only picture on my profile is one of Hobbes? I tell you, these techie-types need to get out and meet real people once in a while.

Waitaminit. Mebbe he really was talking about Hobbes. Self esteem steps out for a walk in the rain.

4:15 p.m.

Desperate for a caffeine fix. Rushed to pantry with coffee mug to find.... no prizes for guessing.

"Machine out of order. Regret inconvenience."

5:00 p.m.

Nooooo....

Urgent requirement for crucial data and metrics for a high-level meeting. A scroll down the forwarded email shows that the meeting was scheduled more than a month ago. A call to the so-called 'desperate' AGM reveals that he's already left for the day. Like, hello, who's meeting was this? There go my plans to leave at 6 sharp.

Sorely tempted to stagger around clutching my heart and croak, "Oh palpitations! Oh palpitations!"

Before you start sniggering, lemme tell you that Anton Chekhov actually used that line. Atleast his translators did.

5:45 p.m.

First sensible act of the day. Discreetly disconnected landline, and switched mobile network to an unreliable one. Gave self feeble pat on the back...shoulder, actually. can't reach that far.

Inner voice: Exercise, woman, exerciiiiiise!!!"

Zahra's voice: "Shaddup. SHAADDDDUUUP!!"

6:20 p.m.

Emailed the accursed report. Hurriedly shut down comp and fled down the corridor, only to barrel into...gulp...Boss. Whyyyy is his cabin on the way out? I tell youuuuu (Tam-style)...the vaastu in this place is all fouled up.

"Btw, I want updates on the status of Projects Alpha through Omega by ten a.m. tomorrow. See you."

Aatma descends effortlessly to the ground floor. Bhautik shareer awaits the lift to follow suit.

8:20 p.m.

Back home in one piece despite suicidal auto driver.

Stood in front of the mirror and chanted "Why am I doing this to myself??" 100 times as per routine.

Check dinner prospects. Yesterday's dal and last week's bread.

10:45 p.m.

Thought: It couldn't get worse than this.

Second thought: Don't be too sure.

Oh well, so it was my statue day today. Go to bed praying for the pigeon's role tomorrow.

ZZZzzzzzzz.....

Note: Okay, so I exaggerate, :) But I've had several days like this one in the not-too-distant past!!

Arbit observations #3

The Goddess returns with more... (ahem!)...'pearls' of.... never mind. Just keep reading , and I'll be thankful enough.

Actually these are the side-effects of lying at home doing absolutely nothing (i.e. nothing useful) for a month, with an offensively cheery-blue fibre cast on my elevated foot, staring right back at me. Personal note: Change favourite colour to pista green

1. You know your parents have run out of ideas on what to do with you when you start getting a certain predictable set of q's thrown at you on every visit home.

"Isn't it time you started thinking about your future?"
Like.....future what? Future luxury car, foreign vacation, paycheck??? Good idea!!

"There's this nice boy....."
Of course they're all nice... nobody presents their son as a history sheeter cum axe-murderer cum wife-beater with a roving eye to boot.

"This is not a stage of your life to be taken lightly"
I totally agree. You realise that NOTHING at all can be taken lightly when your father starts encouraging you to do exactly the things he forbade just two years ago. Like discussing what you think of a guy's looks, his personality, and most importantly, his compatibility with you. All this when you realised only ten minutes ago that the guy existed at all!!

2. Things may not always be what they seem to be. Oh, that's old hat, I know. Am talking about displays of emotion here. For instance, the time when my parents were leaving after dropping me off at hostel in Delhi. As they walked away towards the car, I saw Appa steadfastly stare at the ground, and Amma discreetly dab at her eyes with a hanky. Stupid ole me presumed it was the grief of leaving their darling baby at the other end of the country and going back to Chennai. A couple of years and a whole series of arbit observations have revealed a 99.99% probability that their reaction was more on the lines of "PEACE.....After twenty-one years!! Thank God for MBA courses" :-S Now you know why Indian parents don't mind splurging on an MBA for their kids, even when the fees show an overtly positive correlation to global oil prices.

3. Meeting long lost relations and family friends doesn't exactly top the list of earthly pleasures for most of us. There are some exceptions of course, but most of these encounters can make you cringe inwardly, even as you prepare to face the assault with a diabetes-inducing smile plastered on your face. I mean, you just KNOW when that achayan/ammai/ammachy/uncle/aunty bears down on you all goggly-eyed and smiling and making a (ob)scene in general.

"Ente moley, nee angu valuthayi poyallo!!" (Beti, you've grown!)

Errr.... isn't that normal...esp since I hadn't even started crawling the last time you saw me??? Besides, I don't particularly appreciate the not-so-subtle references to my prospering waistline..... Hmph!

4. All those who fell for the hype and hoopla of The Monk who sold his Ferrari have obviously missed out on a verrrrry important point. Why don't you see that the Monk HAD a Ferrari to sell in the first place??
:-( Sadist...BAH!!! Go right ahead and rub it in my face....I'm still saving for a tyre to call my own. Oh, and no comments about tyres of my own making pls!! ;-P

5. You'll always have a soft corner for kids you dandle on your knee in their babyhood. No matter that they may grow, or mutate rather, into unexplained forms of pestilence a few years later.

6. Whoever predicted that "soft, curling tendrils" are THE look for our crowning glories this season obviously has a head full of poker straight hair. I'm serious. Nobody in their right mind would voluntarily put up with the pains of a head full of hairy curls of tendrils...err, curly tendrils of hair, day in and day out. Especially when the tendrils/ corkscrews have no sense of direction. I speak from personal experience. Waking up every morning looking like I was struck by lightning the previous night DOES NOT make me feel particularly hep or fashionable. Ah well, dunno if I can blame that fashionista. We've all heard that one on the vegetation being verdantly viridian on the other side.

7. Answering the question "Why an MBA?" is THE biggest farcical exercise you go through in the process of acquiring the degree. All this even before you're accepted into the course, mind! The whole process should've given me a fair idea of what I was getting into. Every coaching centre worth its salt tells you not to bull**** while answering that one. Fine, but what if I hadn't??

a) It's all about the money, honey!
b) Actually, I'm clueless. An MBA was the only thing left after I crossed out every other option.
c) Pleeeeease give me an admission....my folks will get me married otherwise.
d) I'd rather live on a farm, paint masterpieces and call the cows home everyday. But that doesn't bring in the moolah.
e) Face it. I can't rake in peanuts for another decade to get to an MBA's entry level job in my company.
f) Errr.... everybody else is doing it..right??

None of these seemed like a wise answer despite the honesty. Had this distinct sensation of stuffing both feet down my gullet when I thought of these. Therefore I am an MBA today and practising the bull**** professionally. Looking back now, I wonder how I kept a straight face while answering that question in B-school interviews. That's the scary part, I guess....I'd actually believed what I said then.

8. Why is it that the most charming, sweep-me-off-my-feet gentleman I've ever met is nearly 70 years old? Is it a reflection of declining quality standards through the decades or something? Before you jump to any theories about me being an older-man type, lemme tell you that I have nearly twenty-odd women my age agreeing with me on this. The gentleman I'm referring to was a visiting faculty at our B-school, and living proof that there's nothing like chivalry, respect and politeness to win the ladies over. Looks and physique can take a hike. Even MCP-ish views are graciously excused when they come from such people. Oh never mind. You guys may never get it at all. Gimme a man like that between the age of 25 and 30.... oh heck, make it 25 and 40, and I'll marry him blindfolded ;-)

9. I'll pro'lly live in coastal places all my life. There's something about the way the ocean captures every mood and every shade of my being, and throws it right back at me that I'll never get enough of. Nothing like its vastness to give you a very good sense of where exactly you stand and how significant you are in the scheme of things.

10. Something's seriously wrong when a person's smile doesn't reach their eyes. Age is no indicator of maturity. And you definitely have grown up in some way if you can enjoy a good, hearty belly-laugh at your expense.

Wish I practised half of what I preached.... but hey, spouting gyaan is something we MBA-types do naturally!!

Arbit observation(s) #2

Another set of random observations that have popped up at various times in yours truly's meandering existence to date.

Warning: If you're attempting to read this, I love ya already. ;) But leave your brains behind..... most sensible folks would have discovered a few of these eons ago. And the remainder would've been considered too halfwitted to bother about anyway.

1. Gym clothes are available in precisely the sizes of those people who don’t need to go the gym in the first place.
2. Irrespective of education levels, professional qualifications and exposure to the world, men who can see women as more than just an assortment of specific body parts are a shockingly small minority. Am yet to figure out if this is a purely ‘Indian’ thingie.
3. Minding your P’s and Q’s will never go out of style.
4. Until you actually learn numbers in Hindi, a tweak or two on the English names will suffice. For example : 35 can be referred to as “Thurrrdy-phaaaiiff” till you learn that it’s actually “Painthees” (No, that’s NOT the Hindi version of ‘panties’ you moron. Get your mind outta the gutter!!)
5. Your judgement w.r.t. certain people may have been lousy. And you pro’lly got punished for it too. It’s okay. Move on and leave the grudge behind. But stay canny enough to prevent a repeat performance.
6. That life as an only child is fun in its own way. Being Daddy’s princess and Mummy’s darling is something you never grow out of. Or want to grow out of despite all your exclamations to the contrary. :-)
7. That being an only child also brings its own load of emotional baggage and insecurities. Not to forget the perceptions of the rest of the world. And no one to share it with. Giving you plenty of “Why me? Why the beep??” moments.
8. Filling in the ‘Personal’ tab on Orkut can be an eye-opener. I’ve discovered that I do not know my best feature (is a multiple select okay?? ;-P) And what do people first notice about me? None of the possibilities that come to mind are very complimentary.
9. Jim Reeves’ voice can truly caress one. And I mean caress. May his music live on. Makes me wish real life had a background score too. With baritone vocals. ;-)
10. A blog is meant to be written in. Not just started and then left with the rest of your litter in cyberspace. My bad. Bad. Baaaaaad.
    
    So heigh-ho, off a-blogging I go.