What... Why... Am I...

What's my narrative? 
What's my construct? 
Where do I come from? 
Where do I go now? 
Am I one of those who don't belong to a concrete circle? 
Am I one of the few with shifting roots? 
Am I a being born of a reality that seldom surfaces? 
Am I proof of a life that few recognise?

Don't tell me otherwise... I absolutely refuse to believe you!

The good ones always finish last.
Yes they do!
Now don't go say that I’m just saying this because it's been a bad day, a bad week, a bad month or a bad year...
Don't say that it is not true.
It is and I know it as sure as I know that the sun rises from the east and sets in the west.
Trouble is... honesty, simplicity and truth is simply not taken at face value anymore.
We descend from generations of in-between-the-line readers and we take that just another notch higher...
We cannot help it.
The truth is when something is simple, we must complicate it.
We must question it.
We must litter that reality with hypothetical questions and observations drawn from the experience of others.
We must never believe that simple and plain can be true and just as it is... as it appears.
Simple.
It’s too complicated to understand and too simple to be real.
I believe straight and simple is good.
And being good gets you nowhere.
Nowhere.
So yes, I do firmly believe that the good ones finish last.
But then you might want to add, that they are also the ones to have the last laugh.
I might give you that one... For I do believe I will get my laugh too.
Yet, I'd like my laugh before my hair is all silver and my skin all expensive-cream soaked mush pretending to be young.
I'd like to stay good.
Now if only I could infuse a bit of a bitch in right there somewhere.
I wouldn't mind having a laugh a little before the one at the very end.
I'd rather finish a bit sooner.
A bit saner.
A little bit of a sinner.
I'd rather not be good.
Or simple for that matter!

The joke's on me. Again!

Yes, it is!
I find it fascinating just how do I always manage to land at the point called confusion within this circle of things I call my life. Before you throw the ‘circles are round and you always end up coming back to the same point’ analogy at me, allow me to say that I use the word circle for the lack of a better word. You know, circle of life kind of analogy etc etc. I am merely referring to a state of mind where the head is nothing but a muddle of slush.
And what really is sparking this newest onset of slushiness is something that is the really annoying bit. Just when you think all your plans are finally in motion, exactly how you wanted them to be, there comes along a bump and makes you subconsciously shift gears. And this time the gear shifting is of the itchiest kind. As much as I would rather not, I find myself thinking of things I have not yet considered. Listening to songs I usually don’t, staring at the phone and watching the watch. Constantly. And despite this new outbreak of idiocy there is that weight in the pit of the stomach that keeps bringing the head back to sense and reality. A routine conundrum you might say. Just that the first half of this is not routine. And has never been. At least not for me.
And now while I go figure what to do with myself, you may laugh. What are the chances that I will figure this out soon and in a predictable way? Well, for once, I don’t know.

Utterly blank.

I have been utterly blank. Devoid of words and devoid of any creative spark for these past few weeks. I hope this is merely a tiny phase and not a long sabbatical. I am beginning to tire of my capacity to constantly make lists in my head and promptly forget all about them the minute I get home or at work (whatever the relevant location might be at that point in time!) and end up wondering “what all do I have to do?” and not getting much done. Or as much done as I would like to get done.

I am not reading enough. Not writing enough. Not exercising enough. Not getting to work early enough. Not being touristy enough. And now, most times, not even feeling bothered enough.

I marvel at people who always have something interesting to say. Something interesting to do. People who remember to do all the interesting things they can do. Right now I have a pile of unread books and a pile of laundry to iron. And I know which of those options I will end up picking. Nothing interesting to report. Right now not even interested enough to rant. Over and out!

Signs of settling in

When you no longer peer through shop windows on your way to work. When you no longer need to ask where the aisle for baking soda is in a supermarket. When you can text as you walk and look up at exactly the point where you need to cross a road. When you can tell one cheese from the other without having to read the name on the label. When you know which washing liquid is only for hand washing clothes and which one you can use in a washing machine. When the frequently visited coffee shop barista knows what coffee you will order. When he also knows what kind of pastries you like and tell you when he has a fresh batch on offer. When you see the shopkeeper from across the street and wave good morning even though you don’t even know his name. When you have at least three “favourite” restaurants on your list of places you like. When you know which of the three café’s near work has better latte vs better cappuccino. When you don’t hate ironing or doing dishes anymore because you just don’t let it pile up in the first place! When you don’t need music in the house to keep you company. The sounds of the street and the building are enough. And when you know which of those sounds is the lift, the garbage truck, the street washing truck and a pigeon flapping near your open window.

It struck me today that for the last few days I simply don’t use my iTunes playlist as something I simply can not live without. I like that. I am not the kind of person who is always surrounded by the sounds from a speaker or a television set. For 18 months in Mumbai I lived without a tv. I didn’t miss it. I don’t miss it here either. I was amazed at my capacity to sleep with music playing when I first moved here but now I can’t do it anymore. I am back to being normal me! Lolest (as Muna would say!)

And you know what is the best sign of having settled in? Using a quintessential Italian coffee maker to strain adrak wali chai! Hahaha… well I did and it worked. When in need you improvise. I did and I frankly now don’t think I need to go find that strainer afterall.

And on that note, I will take my fevered self to bed for now. And that’s the last sign of having settled in. Everytime I transplant myself to a new place I go through a bout hair fall, skin breaking out and then a nasty flu within the first few weeks. Always. It’s like the body reacting to and then finally accepting the new air, water etc etc etc blah blah blah… And that last bit is happening now! So ciao on that note. Hopefully I will wake up fever less and bright and shiney tomorrow.

And guess what. I came down with this on my birthday. What are the damn chances of that happening? In my case fairly high… Gggrrrrr

 

Moving moving moving...

Literally! That’s what yours truly has been busy with for the last two weeks.

First from temporary apartment to new pretty one on the Saturday before last. Then trips to IKEA just at the outskirts of the city and the Coop (supermarket) over a mile away to get the usual suspects a house needs to become home; bin bags, dustbins, laundry baskets, cleaning supplies, perfumed candles, fleece blankets, cushions, bath mats, flower vase, salad bowl, ice trays, fruit bowl, various kitchen items like little plastic boxes, coffee maker etc etc etc etc etc blah blah blah blah… you get the drift I am sure.

So now that it is all in place I can breathe a sigh of relief. Cooking my first dinner tonight! Grilled chicken. Yay!

Oh! So the moving bit isn’t over yet by the way. I left the land under the Tuscan sun for the first time last weekend. Took Friday off and went to the very north of Italy to get my first view of the Dolomites. Can not thank my dear friend Phil enough for having me over, booking my tickets, coming to pick me up from the nearest town, taking me for lunch to an absolutely awesome place (its off all tourist maps and a local secret!) then hiking in the mountains, fresh grilled trout for dinner and then back to the heat and crowds of Florence on Sunday night. I cannot wait to go back to the mountains. I cant thank his mum and dad enough either for having me over in their cottage and treating me to that awesome fresh fish and proving to me yet again that sometime language ceases to be of consequence. Such amazingly sweet people. And guess what! As usual I had to do something silly. I meant to take chocolates and ended up taking pudding mix from Lindt for Phil’s mum. I didn’t know Lindt did pudding mix…. Oh dear! Some things don’t change do they?

So a weekend of moving houses. Then a weekend of moving through the beautiful Italian landscape. The mountains is where I could just stay and never leave. Sigh… and then a Monday night spent arranging the house back to order. Phew! Can’t wait for next Monday. The last of my 20’s will begin.

These last few days have left me with a deep deep realization. To use Phil’s phrase I feel like I am “straddling two separate worlds.” A life back home, a life I make every time I am far far away and everything in between including my parent’s tireless quest to find me a man and the freaks I have to tolerate in the bargain (mostly a few pictures and a biodata and the most recent case a phone call with the most self important man! Aaarrgghhh!!!). But like dad said yesterday, “living dreams isn’t easy but I know you will be fine.” It all makes sense. In a weird way totally disconnected yet connected statements from two separate conversations and two people living in two entirely separate worlds.

And guess what, I just realized I never really changed my oven’s settings to ‘grill’ from ‘preheat’. Oh well! I guess it will be bread and cheese for dinner and the chicken will be had with salad for lunch tomorrow. Like I always say, when it me the chances of something totally silly happening are fairly high…

And on that note, ciao.

I will be back soon J

Too much too much...

It’s 10:30 am and after making a gigantic cup (yellow! Cup that is…) of coffee, I am back under the covers, coffee on the bedside table. This is me trying to tell myself that I got coffee in bed. And this is me telling myself that if it’s chilly and you can hear thunder roll and the sky is grey and there is that distinct sound of a light drizzle it is ok to have a lazy Sunday. It’s ok to wake up at 8 am but stay in bed till 10 and its ok to be writing first thing in the morning. In fact I quite like this. Writing first thing in the morning. Its seems my head had been making sentences and slotting them in an order while I slept and now all I am doing is tapping along on my keyboard, sipping coffee and soon I will be saying, viola.  

I can see my garden (for some reason it is scary for me only in the dark!) and I am glad I won’t have to water it. It might not look huge but when you get down to watering it, takes an hour at least. Trust me. For some reason I am looking forward to ironing my clothes. I have realized that like applying nail polish, ironing clothes has a strange effect on me. I need to concentrate almost a 100 per cent and that somehow makes me less stressed. Not that I am stressed right now. Just saying.

And now that I have spent one month in this city, I have started doing what residents do. Discovering great places for the regular stuff you need to get by. Not just the best pizza or the nicest gelato or the best pasta etc etc. You get the drift right? So on Friday, my one month anniversary (using one of the most incorrect phrases we all use all the time!) in Firenze, I happened to go for dinner with two of my colleagues to this Chinese restaurant and I am so so so happy I did. I was craving something that was not a pasta, or salad, or meat with veggies or risotto and there it was. Chicken friend rice, noodles, prawns, pork with green peppers, steamed rice, vermicelli, and tofu. I also chanced upon a place that sells incense (really expensive agarbattis if you ask me) and some really funky travel stuff and toys. And it is right next to the only shop that stocks English books here (and yes, predictably, you find Vikram Seth, Salman Rushdie, Arundhati Roy, Arvind Adiga and Amitav Ghosh in abundance here. But not Ghosh’s latest book yet.). And both the shops are down the shop that from now on I will call the best gelato shop in Florence. I do like three other family owned ones a lot, but this one tops them. Owned by two young Italians who have taken their business global (shops in NYC, Paris etc) their gelato is more expensive than other places but one lick and you know why. I read about them when I was trying to google just how many calories and how much fat am I subjecting myself to through my gelato indulgence. So my new frequent haunts are all on the same street. Nice.

I think the key to living in different cities is to go beyond discovering food and things that are typical to the place. You cannot be a tourist if you live someplace for a long time right. So I think this is a good thing. I now have my own favourite gelato shop (ok! That’s a typical thing) my own favourite Chinese place, my book shop (I am sure every English speaking person in Florence calls it the same way!) and my tiny nook to buy incense. So yesterday madam bought an agarbatti stand, a total of 30 agarbattis and the total cost was as much as I spend on agarbattis every six months. And I always by the more expensive ones, even back home. Made me laugh. But I like incense and it makes me feel at home. Those of you who have been to my place will remember that I always create an incense corner. And those of you who plan on visiting remember to call before you take that flight because I will at every point in time have a small list of things I might need. And yes, I might just include some really mundane chemist shop items, or even books. They are frightfully expensive overseas. I spent 20 euros on two books that would have cost me less than 10 euros back home. Well I know its books and they last forever and no one can contest my love for books but sometimes I would not mind seeing a few new ones on my shelves with Indian price tags.

Oh! And I went shopping too. Yes I did. So I bought myself skinny black work trousers and a pair of off-white skinny jeans. I was thinking I will wait till next month but everyone at work advised me not to. Apparently things here get ‘sold out’ real fast. And from whatever little I gave seen so far, they really do! I liked a long string of white porcelain beads and golden coloured wooden squares, and I thought I will sleep over it before I spend 12 euros on junk jewellery and I did and I still wanted it so I went back to the shop the next evening and it was gone. Every single piece of it. And the new stock had come in just the day I saw that chain. I know that because the friendly girl at the shop told me that. Wow! So I decided I will get my pants before they vanish off the shelves. And while I have been at it, I also bought a cute pair of mocha coloured ballerinas. I have bought more things than I planned to in the last two weeks. Shoes for Capoeira, two dresses (of which only one is work worthy!), two pants, three shrugs, incense, books, ballerinas, and before I forget, those, now awesomely comfortable (no blisters from them anymore), Birkenstock sandals. Hummm…. Mummy does not approve. But I have my eyes still set on that Swatch I had seen at Phoenix mills in Bombay and I think I will get that for my birthday. I also think I need a camera and a pair of red ballerinas too.

Lets see. I do have the flat expense looming over my head. If I convert to rupees the amount all those euros I need to shell out this week come to I will faint. One month rent advance, 2 months rent deposit and one month rent to the agent. Wow!  No! Don’t ask me what the rent is. Makes me convert and then makes me feel guilty. Humpf!

But the shoes will come. At least another pair. Right now they are on the ‘need’ list and not ‘want’ list, given I had to discard my black work ballerinas before taking the flight to Tuscany my brand new silver ballerinas with the cute bow broke. Yes they did. And gave me massive blisters too. I still have the annoying scars.

Anyway, it has stopped raining and I feel like one more cup of coffee. And I want to read more of this week’s issue of the NewStatesman and be more angry and annoyed about it. Their cover story is on India and they have been quite predictable. Patrick French’s piece is alright. But profiling Arundhati Roy! Interviewing Arvind Adiga! A timeline of India’s history that simply reads “1947: Independence from Britain; 1947-48: First Kashmir War; 1951-52: first General Election; 1971: Indo-Pakistan War; 1974: Nuclear Power; 1984: Indira Gandhi Murdered; 2004: Manmohan Singh Elected; 2008: Mumbai terror attacks.” Yes! As it is straight from the magazine. Made me go like ‘what the fuck!’ Where is the Indo-China war? The other Indo-Pak war? Kargil? Parliament attacks? Op Parakram? Gujarat riots? Sikh riots? Opening up of the Economy? Rajiv Gandhi’s assassination? And for that matter using “assassination” and not “murder” for Indira Gandhi? The NDA coalition government? The Janta Party coming to power? Anna Hazare (and not Baba Ramdev as they feature!!) and the reservation protests both in the 1990s and then in 2006? The various serial blasts? Something about medals in Olympics etc (and not just cricket and Sachin Tendulkar)? What about the rise in social entrepreneurship that is changing lives? What about youth initiatives that have picked up in the past decade? What about a serious piece on what can be done about the education system rather than yet another commentary on the contract between India’s ‘silicon Valley’ and how it has done nothing to improve the lives of those outside of it. Yes I agree the crowd in Bombay, the sheer intensity of human proximity and human numbers can be an assault on the senses, but what about steering away from talking about just that city. What about talking about the cities that are changing the entire game of urbanization. The tier II and tier III cities that are giving people opportunities they haven’t had before? And for crying out loud, what about a proper piece on the how many “poor” kids in so called developed countries suffer quite like the poor kids in any other country. Educationally deprived. Opportunity deprived. And I can go on an on but I think I want that second cup of coffee. Also, I am rather miffed at this entire notion of “helplessness” that women keep reinforcing around their own gender. Gender stereotyping that is negative without seeming to. It stems from something I read about how flexi time helps women and how corporates should support it and governments should too. Blah blah blah. All I read there is that you are a woman, you will have babies, so you need to figure out how you will manage and we will try to put in place some systems that might make your life slightly simpler. My question is, what about policies to establish a strong caregiver role for the person whose sperm spawned the little, crying, pooping and always hungry bundle of joy? What about paternity leave? What about giving men the policy and corporate support so they can be hands on daddy and allow the woman the opportunity to ease back into her career with one parent still around the kid because of flexi time? You know… and the list continues. This is just one of my issues. And every time I hear women applaud maternity leave I feel like telling them, “Get over it. Everyone gets it now. Time to stop reiterating something that is only reinforcing a stereotype now. Move on. Your mothers fought for this and now you need to take that a step further. Ask for the next thing now. Time to pull up your socks and get out of this armchair feminist comfort zone.”

Gosh! I have written way more than I wanted to initially. Anyway, if you don’t agree with anything I have said (especially in the last three paragraphs) please feel free to correct / comment.

And now I am off. Time really to go get the second cup of coffee. And it has stopped raining too. Time to go bum about town and maybe shop some more. * mental evil laughter *

Ciao J