Such kinda days...

Remember, when my mom insisted I go all the way into town to buy train tickets for Poona (the days when there was no expressway nor online booking). I was almost irritated being dragged on a public holiday.
I dressed up my casualest best-track pants and a tee; you saw me and said lets goto Pearl of the Orient.And so we did,as the rain beat against the windows,as college students having no money, as I could watch the seas.

Such carefree kinda days...
---------
You remember the day I bunked office for the morning;it was those perfect kind of days-cloudy and cool. We went to watch Shrek, ate at crepe station and drove by the sea-side. I was so happy through out the day.

Such fun kinda days...
---------
Remember, at the snow park, everyone was enjoying all the snow rides. Post 40 mins, we looked at each other and just ran out. Went straight to the tea store and ordered two pots of piping hot chai.Then after few sips, we looked at each other and just laughed.

Such warm kinda days...
---------
You recall the night,post an argument at 1:30 am, we went for a drive. And we drove and drove..out of the city, to the capital, only to discover the gorgeous palace.By 4am I was starved..only to see the Burger King on the opposite side of the freeway, so we drove round and round until the exit, and until I got my bean burger!

Such mad kinda days...
--------
72 floors above Singapore City,drinks at the bar,and a lovely dinner in the outdoors. Then chatting with you about everything and nothing through half the night.

Such treasured kinda days...
-------
I used to be so afraid to sit on your bike. And then we went for a ride, and just rode and rode and rode. From holding onto the bike to holding the winds in my hand.

Such free kinda days...
------

Such kinda days......

Painting the skies

A typical early morning..... no dont imagine sun rise, tweeting birds, or quiet roads. It was a typical working early morning--honking of huge vegetable trucks, the wholesale bhaji walis dashing across the road and the occasional garbage van leaving for their daily rounds.

The car screeched to a halt behind a large yellow "Horn OK Please" , after observing and re-observing the pink lotus designs painted on the truck, the car managed to cut lanes and get ahead.....only this time to be stuck behind "Raja and Rani".

There were a string of taxis-she resigned to the fact that this was going to take a while. The entire stretch of the road is flanked by kothmir and methi (corriander and fenugreek respectively) sellers, and the smell is almost pungent and always gets one coughing.

Overhead the dark clouds floated by, but not a single drop fell, their destination was elsewhere. Her eyes wandered to the further skies a dark set of clouds were approaching covering the sun. She said the word -- 'Ghayath' (rain). Like a chant, Ghayath. The honking stopped, the road blurred, with her whole soul into the power of the word, Ghayath.

The first few drops of rain fell, she continued to chant, and put her hand outside the window to feel the creation. Her eye followed a drop as it fell onto the tip of her finger and slid gently down to the mount of her palm, just then a silver car skidded to a stop in the lane besides her. Her eyes wavered to see the driver, his eye was fixed on the last quarter of the sun going behind the clouds, but his lips were chanting, fervently chanting.

She didn't need to be Nostrodamus to know what he was chanting. The clouds slowly began to turn, and the drizzle grew fainter as the sun glared back onto the now completely covered kothmir street.

Honnnnnkkkkkk-everything came back to life, the babble of the wholesale sellers, the beggar kids playing in the muck, the crude marathi chatter. In that second, the silver car cut into her lane and sped away on the open road ahead. The realization of obnoxious smell lead her into a coughing frenzy, dotted with the abuses from the car drivers behind.

The car purred into the first gear finally, she looked into the rear view mirror and her eyes stopped at the unmistaken sight of the tip of a rainbow. She stopped the car to the side and got out- to see the glorious band of colours stretched across the skies.

She smiled. She sighed.

It would be a long time before she could create a rainbow on her own.

Calling?

My eyes opened, it has been an uncanny dream, and I could feel a frown forming on my brow. The clock on the mantelpiece showed 3:38am. I sat upright and decided to meditate; my thoughts however chose to have me diving under Aussie seas chasing after my P.G.Wodehouse book. 'Blessed night', I cursed, falling back onto my bed.

I flashed back

---

It had been but 2 months back since I was at the Vipassana retreat at Igatpuri. For the un-initiated, Vipassana is a meditation technique promoted by Goenka. This 10 day rigorous course teaches the mind to be alert and notice sensations which emit from the internal body.

Each emotion experienced, we emote a range of sensations-positive vibrations or negative such as pain and discomfort. Every iota of our body is continuously experiencing a sensation which is ever changing. This technique enables one to observe those sensations.

The 10 days of absolute disconnect helps, as does the Arya Maun(complete silence), but not as much as the vibrations of that place.

On the 6th day of my course for the first time I managed to feel complete sensations all over my body, the sensation of a high frequency vibration on every part.

It was also the last time I felt it.

'R' my buddy who sent me there explained it to me, 'You wanted it so much, that you concentrated on recurring the same feeling rather than on what you were actually experiencing.' The main aim of Vipassana is to be detached to all the sensations-good or bad. To acknowledge and to know--that whatever comes...goes.

I confess though once I have been back, it has gotten harder to concentrate.

---

As I feLl back on my bed, I was beyond despair, beyond frustrated-I had simply given up. So I started again-and it came, slowly flowing over my entire skin, engulfing me with vibrations.

It was a blessed night indeed

---

PS- R...owe you one too many

Reminder

Pain...
because it reminds me my purpose on this earth is to never come back.

Shhh

It was her funeral-she was a good soul, even jovial until the end fighting her cancer.

The dastoor(priest) stood there chanting their prayers into the holy fire.One couldnt see their lips as they wore a mouth covering to protect themselves from the intense smoke.

But further behind him-stood she. She the wife of a priest. She who silently mouthed the same prayer but from holier lips.

The whole crowd shut their eyes and concentrated into the fire-except my eyes which didnt leave her face even once.

It is unusual for a member of her community to not be fair, most of the community is light skinned, however she was closer to wheatish-olive. But as the intensity of the fire grew, the chants grew louder and louder, I saw her face radiate a white light. A light like I had never seen.She left the room immediately.

I wanted to go upto to her and ask her, and yet my instinct told me otherwise, and my heart screamed for me to stay put. A few moments later she returned-wheatish olive.

I confided in a close relative, and told her what I saw. Her eyes widened and turned to me,
"You saw!" she said, and then added firmly 'one never discusses ones spiritual power, when you have to learn it-it will come to you, but donot ask.'

My eyes were filled with tears, because I was so close to finding a source and yet now an eternal wall had been built. Because what I truly want is to radiate more light than she did.

Her voice softened 'Its called khote (khot-teh) which means Aura, when one reaches a higher spiritual side. But we donot speak about it'

We donot speak about it. So shhhh.

Transcending Space

It was a hot day, but I felt refreshed almost as soon as I entered the room. There were straw mats laid all over, spiritual music played softly in the background and one could hear the melodious sound of flowing water. The walls of the room covered with art works depicted the elements of nature in tune with the Gods and Godesses.

Satish Gupta's latest collection-Cosmic Matrix II transcends his previous.

Right from the tranquility of Lord Buddha reaching nirvan, the fiery Kali in splashing reds,the holy calligraphically written Arabic scrpit, to the radiating blue shivlingam, Satish Gupta has encaptured the Gods inner force of Space, Fire and Air.

Personal favourite:Transcending Space-A 68" X 48" painting of Lord Buddha in hues of grey.

Inspired from the sculptures at Bayon, the painting depicts the now decayed sculptures test of time by painted cracks all across the face. On a closer look one can see the eye balls of Lord Buddha facing upwards towards the chakra.

Can be viewed at Jehangir Art Gallery, Kala Ghoda, Bombay.

Price Range: INR 400,000-18,00,000.

I just wanna be God

A conversation over diet health food, and a cup of black tea:

'Do you think God is all powerful?'

'Hmmm debatable'

'What about sadistic?'
One eyebrow raised

'I mean why..would anyone who created a world, create so much pain? If God does have the power that people believe he does-why doesnt he heal the sick, lessen the burdens of the heart and why for heavens sake(ironical I use heaven huh) would someone propogate suffering?'

'Well maybe he didnt create the world. Maybe he controls it?'

'If he's just a controller why would he watch innocents being killed, drug abuse, child molestations? How different is a psychopath then? And if he didnt create the world we dont really need to thank him for the beauties of nature.'
'And definately dont give me the bullshit that he created sorrow so that we can appreciate joy. You donot watch women being raped so that she knows what it feels like to be happy'

'Do you even believe in God's existence?'

'I do. I know youre wondering how but I do.I just dont think he has anything to do with my creation or my control over my life, joys and lows.'

'A by-stander?'

'I think he was just a good human being. And when they say he's in us, I believe its in each one of us to be like him. And the ones that reach there, join him-the rest get stuck in the rigmarole of earth and life. '

'We consider God as a superpower'

'No, he was just like us-you and me, except he learnt how to direct the power of his mind'

'He's human, and Im human--how?'

'You dont get it, he's human alright, you're not human enough'

'Whats your point?'

'To be complete human, is to be like God-completely one with the universe.Its the ultimate achievement.'

'And how can we be 'more' human?'

'I dont know. Thats what I want to find out but I just dont know how......'

Its 3 am...

It was 3am.

One of those typical nights in Bombay, hot and humid with a few gusts of breeze bringing relief into the night.

Standing by the black granite window sill she could see the dark blue city blending into the black sky. The empty road was lit by a flickering bulb, not a soul in sight-except for the watchman who had fallen asleep hours ago. Not a bird stirred, nor a dog bark, just 2 voices talking over the telephone.

'I wish I could be with you right now'
'Me too, but you know its impossible for me to get out at this hour. Where were you?'
'I was out with my friend-just chilling together, he and I hadn't met up in long'
'Hmmm'
'Kya hua?'
'Now I just wish I could see you'
'Im below your house'
'What??'
'Do not lie'
'Im below your house'
'Right, crap'
'You'll see and hear me in exactly 3 seconds'

HONK! A white car sped past across the road.

Not a single leaf rustled,the drowsy moon didnt peek out from the clouds and the sleeping dogs lay. But her whole world had arisen to his love.

And she wonders

She had planned it all out, all at the age of 13-it had to be Commerce, arts was for the not-so-clever and science was for the geeky. It had to be south mumbai-that was where the good crowd was, and it was the place to be.

She did just that.

During college, it had to be BMS-cause that was the course which gave the practical aspect, and post that it had to be a job-MNC only.

She did just that.

M.B.A was a must-for the people one meets, for the learning, for the paycheck, for the pride. The job that followed had to be front office-MNC only.

She did just that.

She had determined-she would work hard, she would be liked, she would slog, and she would rise.

And she met him. And it all shattered.

She saw someone who lived for a desire, for a dream. There was no routine, no assured return, no concrete plans. The job was not a chore and the existence was not a question mark. It was effortless, natural drive and through inner vision. Work was love, and life was fulfilled.

He lived his passion.

And she wondered-could she ever just quit to follow a dream? what courage it would take to pursue a desire? Give it all up-all the years she had planned for-just to follow an instinct?

Would she ever be able to live her passion?

Eid Mubarak.

We'd run up the wooden stairs hand in hand until the last floor of the 3 storeyed building, and slowly peek inside the ajarred door. He would be sitting there as always- on the red and green mosaic carpet spread across the floor,a grim face but with a prayer always on his lips.

"Salaam Alaikum Dadajaan"

"As-salaam alaikum" would be the prompt grunt back

"Eid mubarak" while kissing his hand in respect.

We looked for dadijaan's warm smiling face, her head poked into the room almost when she heared our greetings. "Eid Mubarak!" with kisses on both her cheeks, she'd lead the way to the kitchen where she had been preparing the food since 3 days even during her rozas.

Some people like sheer korma hot, some like it cold-I cant decide which one I prefer, so I simply would have two bowls. First the hot one and then I'd make my way to the fridge and take a huge helping of cold sheer korma. Like every grandmother who likes to see children relish their cooking, I was dadijaan's pet; her eyes would light up watching me clean sweep the bowl.

Dadajaan would enter the room, a few times I almost thought (though not sure) I saw a gleam in his eyes watching us all huddled on the floor with a large bowl of sheer korma in the centre. He would give us Eidiya (Eid money) and say 'the greatest joy one can derive from money-is by giving it away'. The golawala seemed the perfect person to give it away to at that age.

Looking back, it is the one of the wisest thing someone has said to me. On this Eid day, I will do just as you told me as a child and I know if youre watching me from above-your eyes will light up.

Eid Mubarak.

I *heart* Dxb

I just dont know how to start this post, this thought evokes too many emotions and I just havent been able to structure it since days,so this is how the post is going to be-ad hoc.

----

I fear my blog is beginning to look like a travelogue, but then this trip was more than travel. I got teary eyed the minute I saw the sandy dunes from the airplane, "not now!" was all the comment my companion had to offer.

We landed, holy month of Ramadan, no food, no water, scorching sun, waiting for my friend to meet us-it was perfect. Im not being sarcastic, it was all wrong, but it had never been so right. Euphoric wouldnt describe it, it was an odd sense of freedom...to be where I want to be, no 'things-to-do' running in my head. I think i felt for the first time in my life-Im living just for me.

I simply turned my night into day-was up till 4 am, out on the streets, at all my fav places-irish village, 360, dubai marina,starbucks,haagen dazs,odyessy.The 2 new things I did was try out Buddha Bar and went to the Dubai Museum-I enjoyed both tremendously.

At the museum there was an Indian and a local salesman at the souvenir shop, I was asking them where I could get a certain kind of souvenir from, to which he replied when you go for the desert safari you can get it there; to which the local simply replied 'shes not a tourist, it seems as if she lives here'. I dont know how he made out, but I was beaming.

Ofcourse Dubai means malls,and I covered most of them, but more important for me was all my friends which I got to meet-all the catching up, the long chats, the gossip!It was good to see everyone settled all talking about their jobs, HNI clients and their new cars(what a change from ppl who tried to save every 10 bucks mere 3 months back)!

The afternoon I was to return to Bbay, I woke up at 5 am to the sound of the morning prayers, I have been hearing them ever since I was a child and find the greatest peace in melodious prayer.That morning from the balcony I saw one of the most beautiful sunrises over the city of Dubai.

I flew Etihad btw, for the gyaan it is the national airline of UAE not Emirates like most people believe. Its also a damn good airline-plush seats, large private screen which had an option of over 73 flicks, tv serials and video games! The only hitch is that it lands at Abu Dhabi ofcourse.

The day we were to return, we had to catch a bus which takes us from Dxb to Dhabi,the traffic on Sheikh Zayed was so bad,the taxi crawled on a road we usually drive at 140.

Managed to miss the bus, left my cellphone in the cab, got it back after much effort, the cabbie we called to take us to abu dhabi didnt show up, anyhow we made the flight.

Eitherways, it was perfect-and Im not being sarcastic.

Phuket-sea n sand joys and lady boys

My dearest company(I love office) took all of us for an offsite to Phuket. I loved it the minute I peaked outside the aircraft window and below the clouds I could see the bluest of seas.

We were put up at Hilton, 75 acres of natural beauty bang on the beachfront. A large room to yourself and a peacock that flitted around everyones balcony.

The first night was at 'Walking Street'. The entire stretch is flocked by little open air pubs, few restaurants and lady boys. With their petite bodies, long hair, make up and short skirts-one wouldnt be able to guess that these pick up women are well..not women. As my tour guide coyly said " You'll never know until its too late".

Then, we went for my very first 'show'. It was typical with all the women dancing around few poles, and then the show began. A woman came and stuck a whistle up her hole and then using her pelvic muscles she blew the whistle (thats when i burst out laughing), the next act was performed similarly with two cigarettes (I was in splits), the third was with an endless string of coloured ribbons (by then I was holding my sides). She disappeared behind a door for a minute only to come out with a jar of water, then she wriggled out 2 live fish into the jar!! I stopped laughing just about there; we left-I think we had enough of magic shows for the night.

It was followed by a disco called Banana's-the dj played some amazing trance n hiphop tracks, and played a punjabi number for all the Indians in the crowd (read:only us) I guess we really must have burnt up the dance floor. On intervals disc had bubble machines put on, so the whole floor was covered with bubbles. I simply loved the concept! (Wish Bbay would get some creative ideas like that)

The next day brought about the water sports and beach part pf phuket, which I enjoyed infinately more than the magic show of the previous night. Para sailing was a treat, its just unbelievable to be soaring high in the open air, banana boat was well-wet, and it was followed by more rounds of para sailing.
--------
Wish I could have stayed tad longer, but the Thai curry at Bangkok beckoned...
Till another trip.

Mandom Rumblings

I had begun to write a serious post et al but it all got lost amongst the electricity going, my mom demanding to check her mails and I falling off to sleep. In the bargain there has been lots on my mind, and so I ....mumble.

-----

There are so many things that we come across in our lives daily and yet we dont know. I have always been curious how much taxiwalas earn, so I started questioning my cabbie enroute to town. A Mumbai cab costs Rs 230 per day as rental, Rs 150 worth of gas is filled everyday-so a cabbie has to make at least 400 to break even, over and above that is all profits for him. The person who owns the cab usually lets it out on 2 shifts, thus earns 460 a day and has to pay for maintenance.

Need to find out about autos too.

Gyaan tip: the taxi/auto walas wearing a white shirt indicates that they own the vehicle, whereas the ones wearing olive green/khaki have rented the vehicle from someone.

------

I wonder if people confuse passion and working hard. Like I met a man who just works and works, the minute he got onto a job-he was there whole and soul. I thought it was brilliant dedication, until I had a chat with N who brought a different perspective completely. Sometimes people become just too mechanical, and they continue to be robots because that is all that they are good at, and are afraid to try anything new because of the unsurety.

Obsessive stock brokers-who knows the one thing that may find utmost joy is in art!
-----

It was a Saturday morning, and I was at work, after having slept at 3am I was prepared for a drowsy morning. Two of my colleagues N and V gathered around my desk and we started chatting.

We spoke on the media industry vis a vis the finance industry's style of working and life; Discovery channel shows on test pilots for fighter planes; how a certain sect of Mexicans sell their house and all their worldly goods-set out and just travel the world; how its necessary to just cut yourself from the world and do something new; how a photographer working for say animal planet has to wait 5 days for a lion to make a move for him to get one shot, how the lion has to live through his whole life for the photographer to complete his series-work life passion and purpose.

Whether we would ever have as much passion as that photographer, gain as much knowledge as the man who travels the world, do something completely different from the herd.

I confess, I have never been as awake as I was that morning

-----

More later...until the next thoughts that enwrap my brain.

Through my eyes

Try.....as home as you can make it,
It will never be the same as being in the wild.

Try...as natural as you can make it,
But it will never be the same as being free.

Mumbai, tujhe salaam ya badnaam ?

7-11 happened, and it shook the trains, middle class, police, and even the Prime Minister. As an observer of this mayhem I came across 2 distinct opinions in the sentiments of the people. There was one set who saluted Mumbaikars, and indeed they should-the trains were back on track, forget that there were people in the train, in less than 24 hours! There was this other set whose shrieks voiced, ‘How can this city carry on, when so many have lost their lives, and so many more might in the coming future?’

A common acquaintance was on the ill-fated train which was bombed at Khar, she related the incident to me, she was in the ladies compartment and but 2 bogeys ahead the fatal bomb burst, for a few seconds no one could comprehend what had occurred, but when the black smoke filled their lungs and blocked their vision, instinct said ‘jump’.
As they passed the detonated bogey she said she saw no dead bodies, until she realised the butchered like pieces strewn around were parts of human beings, when she stepped back and looked towards it again she realised the whole compartment had blood spurts covering it.

Mumbai’s spirit indeed, this spirit allows them to move on with life faster than people can anticipate. The last words of my common acquaintance on the phone was ‘I hope they manage to clear out the tracks, and get the trains running again for I intend to catch the Borivili local to work tomorrow else it gets too inconvenient’. Frankly if the commuters who experienced the blast were willing to get back onto the same compartments, I don’t see how rest of Mumbai can feel scared. Next evening I watched the live telecast of the trains on the news channels-I confess they were not as crowded as they usually are, but I could also assure you that you wouldn’t get place to sit nor hang by the pole, maybe of those rare evenings where you could get off without punching someone’s face.

My friend Ani emailed me voicing his opinions on this so called ‘Spirit of Mumbai’. I tried to ration it out-why do people flock to Mumbai in the first place? Infrastructure is better in Hyderabad, Chennai is cleaner, Bangalore is less polluted-so its got to be the money. When this city shut down for 2 days due to the rains last year Mumbai lost over $2 million of business, the next day people scrambled and waded to work to make up for the losses. The one thing that drives this city to work is the money, most want to earn and all have to survive. This is what makes Mumbai commercial capital of India, this is the never say die spirit of Mumbai.

But regarding the blast I wonder it is really spirit or is it indifference in a charade?
Let me start with my own example, what did I a citizen of Mumbai living just mere 10 mins from the site of the blast do? I tried to contact everyone I knew and watched the horror on the news. There is no point in sympathy or empathy for that matter-if one cannot get out on the street and help those that needed aid. I probably should have been at the station to help the injured or do small things like gather rickshaws to take the wounded to the hospitals. But what I did was I watched it on TV, I saw most of the people that were there helping were the lower middle class--why,do the upper middle not like having their hands soaked in blood? Inspite of the fact that the first class general compartment is usually filled with the upper middle class male society.

Is it not true that our government gets away each time because the city is up and running? The credit does not go to the officials but the people of the city. Bad rains, part riots, bomb blasts- yet we travel. If the city shut down, would the officials then finally react? From sources, 42kgs of RDX has been brought into the city a mere 10 to 12 kgs would have been utilized in the 8 blasts. Are we to live everyday in fear?
Yes I agree if the city shut down then the terrorists will consider they have won-but if the city continues there will be more-is it worth lives of innocent citizens. It is very easy for the unaffected to say Mumbai won, just because your brother, father, son, relative, friends were not on those ill-fated trains.

---------------------------------
I salute to lower middle class, for helping out those in need and pain. I only know that what goes around comes around.
And Helen Keller’s words ring in my head “In three words I can sum up everything I have learnt about life, it moves on"

Homeward Bound

My friend dj while chatting with me questioned me 'Whats the best part about Singapore' and I was 'Well, hmm its very disciplined'. His pat reply was 'Dont be boring, think what else is did you like?'
And so this blog has emerged, its the small things that make life convenient in Singapore, well here it goes:

1. Well...discipline, the people are, the traffic is-it makes life a lot simpler. You wont really see fights (no I dont enjoy watching them), no rowdy behaviour, no one dares to comment at a woman.

2. MRT: Thats their trains, its clean, efficient, fast.I dont have to jump on, push anyone to get in, and while alighting the passengers wait by the side so that one can get off comfortably.
For those who know Singapore there are 3 main lines or routes, but one has to keep switching lines to reach certain destinations-the government realised this and have started making a 4th line called 'Circle line' which connects all the unconnected places. I like the fact that the government sees a certain problem and works towards solving it and making the citizens lives genuinely easier.

3. Clarke Quay! Its where I stayed in Singapore during the latter half of my stay, its an inland water body surrounded by restaurants and pubs. My favorite being 'Crazy Elephant'-a place where they have a live rock/blues band, and keeps airing hilarious jokes on their screens like "Viagra is coming up with a tablet for females-Whats it called? :: Niagara." Well the blue seas, blues (the music) and beer-its quite a charming place.

4. 7-11: Its the 24 hour convenient store, which keeps everything and a few basic medicines. I dont know why its called 7-11 though, cause its opened 24 hrs-365 days? Theres one at every corner, makes life much easier-wish they would spring up a few in Bbay as well.

5. Plastic bags : As it rains nearly every second day in Singapore, most of the malls and the business centres-keep a stack of water proof plastic bags (its free), so one can dump their purses, bags, files, laptops etc. It serves a dual purpose-those that wish to get out into the rain can do so, and it also prevents the floors from getting dirty by dripping water from bags, files etc.

6. The Rubbish Chute : I know this may sound odd, but every house has a rubbish chute where one throws their garbage, the garbage vans simply put a tube into the main outlet and suck all the garbage into an enclosed van. This ensures that the garbage is never out in the open keeping germs, bacteria and insects at bay.

7. Ministry of Sound: When I visited Sentosa Island, an entertainment park kinds I saw the musical fountains, which was largely a cartoon and light effects projected on a water screen. I found the cartoon too kiddish (i know it wasnt meant for me in the first place) but one of my first thoughts were I wish a disc would have lights on a water projection-the effect would be mindblowing. When I entered Ministry of Sound, the largest room had exactly that. It wasnt half as appealing as I had imagined, but still barring the execution-the idea is brilliant. Trance and psychedelic lights dancing all around you in the water.

8. The interesting people, from different cultures you get to meet (I especially interacted with many Germans) but this is esp to people I went out with, had converstaions with: Andy-Bloomberg journalist, Hans-my german bus partner who turrned out to be VP of Allianz, Petra-my german-chinese colleague who made work a nicer place.

9. Millenia towers: Thats my office-she looks real majestic in the morning-standing tall against the sky and all the clouds-under her wing, under her command.

Millenia, May I never see you again

----------------------------

Notes:

Homeward Bound is a movie about a dog who is lost and how he finally manages to find his way home-with a lot of lessons down the un-travelled path. Well I feel a lot like Sassy

And yet, I am now humming the tune of Country Roads-by Denver:
All my memories gathered round her, Miners lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine
Teardrops in my eye
I hear her voice
In the mornin hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin down the road I get a feelin
That I should have been home yesterday
Country Roads, Take me home,
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads.

If Investment banks were Musicians

It isnt often I put up a link on my blog. But for all those finance yuppies-this is a must read!Even more hilarious for those who have worked in these organizations

http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=10000039&sid=anPFr7olXfIA&refer=columnist_gilbert

(heres the link to the original site)

If Investment banks were Musicians-Mark Gilbert, Bloomberg

Investment banks have personalities that are reflected in how they go about their business and how their peers view them. Bands express their character traits through the music they make and the company they keep. What happens when you match banks with musicians?

1) Goldman Sachs = The Rolling Stones
Goldman Sachs Group Inc. occupies an odd position in the investment-banking pantheon. The world's No. 1 securities firm by market value is unloved by its peers and universally regarded as arrogant. Its prodigious appetite for hard work and its unrivaled profit-generating abilities arouse jealousy and admiration in equal measure.
Goldman could almost be U2. While its followers are devoted, it's still not quite cool to admit to loving the Irish band. The rock 'n' roll establishment struggles to cherish a band whose lead singer, Bono, rubs shoulders with presidents and popes as he campaigns against global poverty.U2, though, would never embrace Goldman's aim of being ``long-term greedy.'' So, step forward the Rolling Stones; no one ever accused Mick Jagger and Keith Richards of paying anything less than full attention to the bottom line.

2) Citigroup = Ozzy Osbourne
In ``Liar's Poker,'' Michael Lewis wrote that the key to being a successful trader at Salomon Brothers in the 1980s was a willingness to bite the ass off a bear every morning. Ozzy Osbourne would have fitted right in; around the same time he is reputed to have bitten the head off a dead bat thrown on stage after assuming it was a rubber toy.

Salomon is now part of Citigroup Inc.'s empire. Ozzy is now more famous for parading his family on a reality television show broadcast by MTV. Both Citigroup and Ozzy are growing old disgracefully; Citigroup's many and varied brushes with the authorities around the world make the bank worthy of an alliance with the former Black Sabbath singer.

3) Deutsche Bank = Fleetwood Mac
A lazy comparison would equate Deutsche Bank AG, Germany's only global bank, with Kraftwerk, Germany's only global band. Reliant on technology for success, secretive, Teutonic and somewhat emotionless, they have a lot in common.
A different list of attributes, though, suggests an alternative. Immensely profitable? Check. Years of infighting and not communicating with one another? Check. Badly in need of a style makeover? Check. It's Fleetwood Mac.

4) JPMorgan = Radiohead
JPMorgan Chase & Co. executives used to boast about the bank's roomful of 250 Ph.D.s, designing exotic derivatives strategies and proprietary mathematical models to tickle the wackier wedges of the world's financial markets for profit. Too clever by half, and needing another big hit to remain relevant? It could almost be REM. Radiohead edges it.

5) Barclays Capital = Oasis
The capital-markets division of Barclays Plc could be the Red Hot Chili Peppers; chaotic in the 1990s, gained some focus in the early years of this decade, now looking a bit bloated and self-indulgent. Or Barclays Capital could be Keane, since both rose without a trace and are seemingly missing a key component, with Barclays surviving without an equity business and Keane bashing out pop music without the aid of guitars.
Oasis is a better fit. Snarling insolence failed to break the U.S. market and, while past its peak, the band is still capable of flashes of brilliance. Moreover, it probably has twice as many employees as needed. I just can't work out which Gallagher brother, Noel or Liam, is Barclays Plc President Bob Diamond.

6) Morgan Stanley = Coldplay
Deadly earnest. Blue-blooded. Well-heeled. Regularly at the top of the charts, though even fans have the nagging sense they might just be going through the motions. Morgan Stanley and Coldplay are made for each other.

7) Merrill Lynch = Madonna
Both Merrill Lynch & Co. and Madonna peaked in the 1980s and have been irrelevant since the 1990s, notwithstanding umpteen attempts at reinvention. A willingness to jump on any passing bandwagon keeps David Bowie fresh; it leaves both Merrill and Madonna looking a bit like Whitney (Houston) dressed as Britney (Spears).

8) HSBC = any boyband
Guns N' Roses has been poised to release ``Chinese Democracy'' for a decade. While some tracks have been performed live or been leaked in rough form, the album itself still isn't available. HSBC Holdings Plc has been poised to use its platform in Asian investment banking as the springboard to become a fully fledged global investment bank for at least as long.
HSBC, though, could be any manufactured boyband. The true performers earn peanuts, while the management reaps the financial rewards. And, if there is a genius Robbie Williams lurking in the line-up, there's too much dead wood for the talent to shine through.

9) UBS = Phil Collins
The bank and the former Genesis drummer/singer are both rich, both based in Switzerland, and no one with any sense gives a hoot about either. Medallion men with year-round tans and chunky gold watches bank with UBS AG, and rate ``In the Air Tonight'' as their favorite track of all time.

10) Commerzbank = David Hasselhoff
Both Commerzbank AG and David Hasselhoff, the singing star of Knight Rider and Baywatch, are huge in Germany. Scientists have failed to explain why.

Waiting for the Rain

This is dedicated to you both,
I woke up this morning because the sun was glaring into my face, I had to squint to see the time on the clock-it was still good 10 minutes before my usual alarm time but I decided to get out of bed anyways. I was arranging my purse and threw my umbrella on my bed-no point in carrying around weight especially when I can see(or rather cant see) the sun shining its brightest. I forgot my wise old words 'acute sunshine means heavy rains', and that is exactly what happened by early evening.

As I was visiting another branch I made my way through the malls and subways, I was on the roadside and I could see the lightning and watch the dark clouds water the streets of Singapore. But when I looked at the roads and the people-they were so nonchalant, like there was no spirit.

I shut my eyes, in that second I was transported:I was back in Bombay, and it had begun to pour, I remember people running towards shelter-in shops, under bus stops, even under a tree, and then there was us-we ran out of our homes to embrace the rain.
The first natural step was to call each other and meet near the sea-side, after which we would take a long walk drenching ourselves entirely. Then we would run to a café coffee day or barista, we frequented the bandstand one the most I believe. There we would sit and watch the white surf rise high and crash against the promenade, as we sipped hot chocolate mocha.

Over lots of gossip, chats and even more laughter-time would slip away. Even the clouds were tired, and the rain would subside leaving behind a cool breeze. It was time to return to our respective homes, to dry ourselves-until another day when the rain gods beckoned us again.

I opened my eyes and I had a smile across my lips.
Because some moments in life can be taken and frozen for eternity.
----------------------------------
The rains should soon reach Bbay, miss you guys and the rains.

I’m Racist….So?

The word racists brings out sneers and aghast looks from most of the human race around me, but most of us don’t realise we are, in our own little way-a racist.

Living in India, I never delved too much on the subject, Gandhi faced it, so did Martin Luther King; did I honestly care? Not really. The only two times you think of it seriously, one if you are facing it and two if you are a racist yourself.

Coming to a different place, ensures that men envision their own land and fellow country men quite differently. I always thought Indians were intelligent, now I believe we’re a superior race as far as intellect is concerned. If there is a derivative problem to be solved and an Indian and Chinese come up with two different answers, I’d take the Indians-blindly. Don’t get me wrong the Chinese have a brilliant methodical brain, but I’m biased to the South Indian calculation skill set.

In a packed train, I’m seated and my station is about to arrive-who will be the lucky one to get my seat? you guessed right-the Indian. (barring the fact if there are elderly, or pregnant women-I’m human first). It doesn’t matter that the Indian has come back from an hour long of shopping and the other women are making their way home after a hard day of work.
The person I relate to most at work is a Pakistani, because he speaks the same language, he understands and appreciates shayari’s, he can share my kheer with me. When I get mithai’s I share it with only a few people-who said that the other communities will not enjoy Indian sweets, its just an assumption, but I don’t bother to find out, do I ?
Aren’t we racist within India as well? Gujuratis favour their own caste more ditto for Maharashtrians.

Sub-consciously the fact that we relate to a certain sect of people does play on our mind and affect our behaviour towards people. I belong to that section of people(which I believe is all humans)who connect with the like mindedness. Racist, I am indeed.

Welcome to Singapura Lah

Your 30 and thriving, but cant own a car, and you will need to summon the cab 20 minutes prior at least (yeah even I though of yehyeh and naser bhai)
You will find that you are a millionaire but cant own a car:
That is because you need a no objection/ eligibility certificate to buy a car. The government gives out a few every period-so you bid, the highest bidder gets the certificate aka gateway to the car. Its like an open bribery system!
Imagine if it were there in India or Dubai for that matter- it would cause bloodshed!

In my food court you will get:
Chicken feet
beef organs
lamb brain
u-mein (just be happy you don’t know what that is)
Baa-U-Mein ( be overjoyed you don’t know what that is)
Don’t worry all ye vegetarians, they serve plain sprouts!!
(For all those that made a gross face while reading it, I have to watch it being eaten!)

I was walking on the MRT aka train station, and they began announcements- mandarin, malay, some chinky language, another chinky language, and the next one perked my head up- it was Tamil! Not that I understood a word but who cares I had never been so happy to hear tamil ever before as I did that day.

Everyday you will see immacuately dressed mannequins, they all have straight hair, fabulously dressed, n well chinky eyes(obviously). I cant make one out from the other, but yeah they sure do dress amazingly!

For those that are wondering whats ‘lah’ its like lah u know they say lah after every 3 or 4 words lah. But you cant say lah short and sweet lah you need to make it loud n screechy laaahhhhhh.

That’s it. Im coming home