Groundhog Day Simulation

It’s always the very finest feeling to meet you, Mr. Reader. How I love confiding in you the little secrets of my heart! Speaking to you feels like being in a confession box, and our unbroken monologue offers me the luxury of being vulnerable.  “Luxury”, because everyday reality is so demanding, accepts so less a margin of error; it makes me wonder if our generation’s lifestyle was designed for humans at all!

Slowly my new work routine is consuming me. Sometimes it feels like being trapped into Groundhog Day movie – I think planet Earth’s spinning is spinning my mind too! Time is flying, Mr. Reader, time is flying mind bogglingly fast. Hey- it’s- just-Monday-11:00 a.m.-oh-no-no-look again-it’s-Thursday-6:00 pm already! Time is running faster and quicker all the time. It only stops to catch its breath when I start to miss my boyfriend. It always feels ages since our last date.

And during those brief spells in a day when I am not fussing about either my work or personal worries, I often spot myself consuming crazy variety of information- FB feeds, blog pages, magazine articles, and viral videos. Blame the Smartphone colonization of the planet! But it’s dizzying, you feel like compulsive sponges of information- all the time you just absorb information (most of which just makes you feel like a worthless life form  not good enough to be consuming Oxygen off the planet). Most of media news is hopelessly grim and disturbingly provoking- maybe half the Indians catch high blood pressure problems from daily consumption of Times of India articles. Add to that the constant glamour of FB feeds- ok I get it- everyone is either taking a vacation, getting a promotion or getting married.

I think I have to stop now, I really want to go on, keep writing and blurting out thoughts off my heart, but Groundhog Day wins! Its 3:15 am and I am already 2 hours behind my sleeping time, I gotta sleep! Good Night Mr. Reader. Happy upcoming Saturday Hangover to you.

I love big books and I cannot lie!

Reading is a consuming hobby, Mr. Reader. I find reading a very intimate experience. Often a book becomes a window to the soul of the author. A good book sometimes draws all your heart into it. You laugh and cry with the ups and downs in the stories. And sometimes, very rarely, a wonderfully great book morphs its fantasy into your reality and reduces the reality of your every day humdrum routine to a bleak background. Many a times I have found my moods involuntarily syncing to the stories in an ongoing book, like a chameleon camouflaging into its surroundings.

I am not however a typical book nerd – I cannot read everything; I cannot read something having merely encountered it. I have not read many a famous classics and must reads. I have often tried forcing myself to it, challenging the limits of my self discipline, and I have more often than not failed myself. I simply cannot read a Shakespeare (there, I said it). I have tried but the old English is too alien for comfort. I cannot even read half the contemporary bestsellers – Umberto Eco, Jeffrey Archer, Danielle Steel, or uh-G.R.R, Martin (yes, I gave up on Game of Thrones, ah there, I said this too!!); I love an Agatha Christie but I fumble painfully halfway through a P.G. Wodehouse. But when a book rhymes with me, oh what a wonderful feeling that is! Like you have found a companion, a very familiar companion, like you have found a tiny piece of your soul.

Some books have stayed with me, like memories of special dates-forever to be remembered and enjoyed in the space of my mind. Harry Potter, Pillars of the Earth, Elizabeth’s Women, A House for Mr. Biswas, – I think the list of my favorites wobbles zig zag through genres.  I think so far I have read around 150 novels (I cannot but suppress a faint smirk). But that’s the catch- the more you read, the more you know how much you haven’t read. And it is always the most humbling experience to enter a book store-as if the hundreds of unread books were judging you like the portrait-headmasters in Dumbledore’s cabin. 

A library or a good bookstore feels like a vast palace garden- rich in the pleasures to be explored. I think everyone has a list of books – books you have already read, books you pretend to have read (but have only made through its first quarter), book you have secretly read (and cannot publicly confess so), books you want to buy, books you want to read, books you don’t want to read, and of course a list of books that you haven’t even heard of. 

I fancy that one day I would write a book myself. I found an amazing idea in a book I read, Mr. Penumbra’s 24 hours bookstore, where the story has a group of people who all write a book each about all things they learnt in life, and the books’ safety is guarded more carefully than even the life of the people who wrote it. I think I would want to write such a book too- just one big fat book, and pour all my heart into its pages, and reveal all that I have ever felt and learnt.

P.S. >>

Actually Mr. Reader I have currently laid my hands on Shantaram-a-what-a-what-a-what-a-book! Amazing, just amazing- I have only yet finished the first few chapters of it, but I am already drowned deep in Shantaram’s world. I think I will write a new blog soon- quoting some lines from the book- for the pleasure of reading is sometimes too much to have all by yourself!  Stay tuned, Mr. Reader  J

Settling Down

Finally the storms have calmed down Mr. Reader, at least for now. It is an immense relief to not be unemployed anymore. I have moved back to India, to my ever favorite Aamchi Mumbai. I have also reunited with my ex.

Life, though, continues to be as challenging as ever. I think life is like Kaun Banega Crorepati, as time goes by you win some benchmark rewards, get assured of some minimum takeaway success, but to win more you must face tougher problems. Sure I am not jobless now, but it means I must slog every single weekday (at least). Sure I have my boyfriend back, but it also means taking care of one more person’s happiness apart from mine. What is humbling amidst this self-centered race for survival is to realize how almost everyone must face the very same trials and tribunals of life. We are all humans, divided by geographies and cultures, but united by the common shitty survival-of-the-fittest contest.

Isn’t it amazing that we can read and comprehend almost every single novel ever written? I think books are particularly amazing because of this regard- they can place us in the shoes of anyone and everyone-from wizards to sociopaths. And we can relate, we can replicate and imagine all kinds of emotions of just about any character. I think that is because each one of us is a little bit of everyone of us. We all glide through similar maze of feelings everyday – desire, determination, doubt, faith, lack of faith, shame, intellection, fear – like sailors over the same sea.

Sometimes I wonder if it is really possible for anyone to desire anything beyond love, family and wealth. Instantly I argue to myself; knowledge. Yes, knowledge is our only hope, our only means to achieve the three fold desires of the heart. Sometimes knowledge supersedes its role as a means and becomes an end goal in itself. Maybe that is the beauty of the human mind- its desire for knowledge, its quest for philosophy. Every generation has asked the same questions, the same fundamental hows and whys about the physical reality. Sometimes it worries me endlessly:  what is the nature of this universe, is there a Master Creator, what is the nature of time, what is the nature of mind, what is perception and so on. I think our day to day struggles are very interesting, for although they consume us, they are so intriguing that you cannot help but realize that there is something amiss; that there is bound to be a bigger conspiracy, a bigger reality and that our minds are constantly being fooled all the time. Evolution is also very interesting. Our mind is equipped to sail us safely over our daily seas of emotions, our perception is adapted to focus and comprehend only those things that ensure the survival of our specie.

Another thing that fascinates me is- courtesy and manners, the social dictates. Whoever designed our societies were geniuses. To lay down the fabrics and rules of society is sheer amazing. Albeit we all shift the rules around as per our convenience, I don’t think we have shaken the foundations much ever. Get born, growup, learn, become an adult, contribute to the society, care for elders, seek love, reproduce, nourish the young ones, be taken care of and finally bid farewell to the world. Each milestone of life has its own challenges; I don’t know how we all retain our sanities even midway through. Perhaps the ingenuity of courtesy! European Medieval History is another one of my obsessions. I think life in those times was obviously much more challenging (how did people ever survive without internet for instance). But Mr. Reader, don’t you delight in English courtesies? Gentle manners, respectful words, symbolic gestures, formalities, I think they are all like the skin on our bodies. Without it we would be shockingly ugly albeit fully functional people. Social manners help us control our minds, like leashing our inner demons.

Love unleashes. Being together with one singular person, emotionally if not necessarily physically all the time, slowly cuts through the chains of courtesies. I think I act completely uncivil with my boyfriend. All formalities break down and melt into a singular cauldron of gigantic human emotions. Is love meant to be comforting? I think I hurt him all the time. I don’t think I am much ever rude to anyone else; it is a singular privilege of my Prince Charming.

And then I ask myself- am I happy? Of course! I love my job and.. Have you ever spoken to my boyfriend? Ah Mr. Reader, I am the luckiest woman ever! :)

Paris Taught Me:

Mr. Reader! Guess who is returning home to India after hold-your-breath: 15 long months in Paris? So apart from cooking pasta boxes and saying bonjour, merci , au revior and gasping at the Eiffel what else has Paris taught me?:

*I always knew who I am and what I want to be, what I like and what I don’t like; Paris taught me - who I really am, what I really want to be, what I really like and what I really don’t like

*I can wear skirts and sense freedom; only to be trapped in an inescapable cycle of make-up, manicure et al.

*I can live independently and away from everyone I had ever known; only if I learn to forge new friendships again

*The gravity of international issues such as immigration and languages; the immense unappreciated security of always being able to return to India

*The richer your surroundings the more courteous people act with you although the path to wealth is fraught with deceit and unkindness

* Music, chocolates and books are the best pain killers

* Love is powerful; so is materialism

*Differences arising out of gender, religion, nationality and education are illusionary; people are people

*I can survive no matter what; an inner spark can quell away any amount of darkness in life    

                   

Umm should better be going now; you know literally!

PS: Love you Paris!!! à bientôt! India, home here I come! I am starved enough to eat a cow (oopss)!

Rebel. Without A Cause.

Humans are a strange society. We have confounding social laws and strange collective beliefs. How do we as a society grapple with things like love, sex or death? My grandmother passed away two days back. And I had thought missing home on Diwali was the low point. I have to admit, I am struggling a lot. I feel miserable, homesick, lonely, sad, the list can go on. I feel angry even hateful. This life is making no sense. Coming to Paris was a mistake. Not learning French was a serious error of judgment on my part. Believing in the myth of a Prince Charming, possibly even worse.

Is all lost? Have I learnt anything at all? Why should I care about pleasing you, Mr. Reader? I have my problems, I am human, I have emotions. I am not asking you to solve them. I am not asking for sympathy, I am not even asking you to read this post. Why doesn’t the world commit collective suicide for failing me anyway?  

Do I have a story to tell? Not sure, I have some time now nonetheless. Keep reading if you are not bored. I had a protected, successful, conservative, reasonably luxurious childhood. Then I went to IIT. I don’t think I reflected much there, I had a boyfriend and pretty much never cared outside: what surprise gift could I have for our “first dance anniversary”. Yes, I was a sissy. But, I have borne my penance for being a sissy. Then one day, he hit me. Repeatedly. Should you blame him? NO. If you were my partner, you would have done the same. I was a smart girl, fully capable of taking care of myself, why was I demanding so much attention from him anyway? Because I thought I loved him.

That break up spiraled into a feminist awakening and I landed up in HEC. How did I fare in HEC? Not sure. All good schools have their own dark side. The rat race is everywhere. Even if you switch continents. What is so glamorous about migration anyway? People are people. This is not a racist rant. No. Let me also tell you this- I am not particularly emotional about India either. I think Indians are big time racists anyway. We have our own problems with inter-state migrations. In fact Mr. Reader I don’t vouch for anyone at all. No person, no religion, no language, no country. I like a few people; they have been good to me. I have learnt a thing or two from some others. I care about religion more in the sense of a search for the bigger truth. I prefer English because I have already mastered using it as a medium to convey my thoughts. I think language serves just that purpose. My two year old nephew learns language- I don’t.  I care about India a little, ok a lot. Because, well I have lived 21 years of my life there. I also like Paris, more like I would love a boyfriend. I love to hate it and hate to love it. This is a stupid city which is extracting more of my attention than I had planned to give it. I need a break up very soon.

What will I do? Trade. It is a simple, one word answer. I don’t have to think about it. Financial markets are beautiful. They are just as strange as the world around me, but atleast they take the shape of numbers and that feels more sexy.  I need to move to London. Why? Because I don’t care about the city, ok? Any city at all. For they are all rather superficial. I want a Paris with English, more crowd and more vegetarian options. That means London. I am going to start my own trading firm. Of course I will be the only trader there and I will start with my dad’s money. Is that childish- go fuck yourself if you feel that. Do I need a baby sitter? Am I falling in a self destructive trajectory? Who knows- let me find out. If I fail I will write one more blog appealing the world for collective suicide. What scares you about this post anyway? The raw truth?- suck it up Mr. Reader. The world has a lot of flaws, just as I do. I will learn. Yes, I will. I refuse to let you break my spirit. I refuse to feel guilty for being selfish. I think this is the kind of a dream great world leaders strived for. Here I am- a woman, an Indian, good schooled, financially stable. If there is one thing I need to do then it is to embark on a path of self emancipation. For if all my duty was to get other less fortunate people to this stage then it will be some sort of a circular path, not upward sloping. It would be like the scientific purpose of life- live and survive to create progeny who just have to further live and further survive and further create progeny. How pointless! However, I am thankful for a lot of good hearted people and leaders who are social activists and lessen the burden on selfish pigs like me. I am not asking you to help me, if I do certain things right may I be rewarded. If I don’t I am ready to bear the brunt.

Rebel. Without a cause.

   

Satan's Delight

Don’t let it break you, girl

The forlorn world

Stabbing its venomous fangs

Like daggers down your throat

You must trade

Your careless laughter

For the stranger’s pleasure

Every night-

A Satan’s delight

Can you sell your skin?

Can you fake some more?

You ain’t the prettiest, you know!

They say, that woman next door
Makes a better whore

Don’t let it break you, girl

This forlorn world

Beneath your tainted bosom

Beats your heart of gold

Au Revoir HEC

I wonder how best I could phrase signing off yet another school year, yet another school, oh wait all my student life for that matter! But I was only just about starting to settle in at HEC! For some reason, I keep relating to a book I read last year by V. S. Naipaul – A House for Mr. Biswas, in a very literal sense; the protagonist Mr. Biswas continues to move from one room to the next whilst nourishing a single consuming desire to own a place he could call home. I move next into a 6 months internship in Paris. That’s how much I have sorted out for now but all of the multidimensional probability vector space opens up for what can happen to me after that.

Well so, I thought maybe I should share with you Mr. Reader some 10 lines I spoke or heard at HEC which shall probably stay with me the longest. Oh you know for otherwise 10 blogs could fall short if I start to open up about  all of my thoughts at the moment!

#1. If I had voting rights, I would have booked a special flight to Hong Kong just for that.

[Heard from a Chinese friend as I was laughing at the idea of travelling back all the way to India just to vote]

#2. 'Where is the Aquaguard in this hostel?'

       'Oh you just drink out of the tap!'

#3. 200 £/Hour  

[ Ain’t not elaborating on that! ;) ]

#4. Paris is not really too different from London. I think they are quite like a couple- a perfect love hate relationship they have, having fought a hundred wars with and against each other for ages. They feel quite alike too, may be Paris is like the Lady, more delicate and fancier whilst London is the Man- looks just a bit sturdier.

#5. You are not in India. Deal with it.

#6. No matter what- Smile. Dress up. Network. That’s how you are going to make it alive out of here.

#7. Do it for your mother.

[From a taxi driver I had booked to take me to my internship interview.]

#8. Buy low, sell high.

#9. Trading is a bit like Physics really. Physics is looking at the Universe through the prism of mathematics, for trading you put a price tag on every event and product in the world. There is only one resounding message: be it a war or a tsunami we finance people can put a number on them all.

#10. It’s okay, just deal with it like you are a trader already but have just suffered a huge loss.

[A friend consoling after being rejected in a trading interview]