She is an upright woman who would not like me to mention her name in this context, so let me call her X.

Thanks guys for the comments (and also to those who mailed me, including the people behind the 3 hate mails, you know who you are!!).

I am going to the DBM!! Roll out the red carpet, will ya? And order those large ones for me...

Alpha and Kash, will let you know if I meet my 'true love' or 'soul mate', though I know these rendezvous (whats the plural for rendezvous? rendevouss? or rendezvous's??) don't yield much for a 30 year old.... But I sure hope I meet some interesting folks who I want to keep in touch with.

In any case, watch this space for a report on the 14th.

Sandhya, sorry if I sounded like a spoilsport... I was actually in two minds.

Blog Meets seem to be the flavour of the season. There is one scheduled in saadi Dilli on January 13. When I heard about it, I was enthused and immediately confirmed my attendance... but now, as we inch closer to the D-Day, I am not too sure.

What kind of people write these blogs? Of course I have read most of them, enjoyed many and even loved a few... but what kind of people are they in person? What are we going to talk about? Blogs? aaaaaargh.

Its different when its a one-to-one. You have a lot of time to explore commonalities and the initial ice thaws gradually. How would it pan out in a group scenario? I might get to meet some nice people (even though most of the potential participants appear to be very young!!) or I might just get bored in a corner.

Any thoughts?

Delhi evokes a spectrum of reactions from a visitor and, in most cases, the reactions change over a period of time.

The first sights of Delhi can be pretty ugly (that's a good oxymoron, no? pretty ugly!). If you approach the city by train, you see rubble all around, mostly because of the hectic construction activity going on in all the suburbs and satellite towns. There is a green patch that's fast being eroded, despite frantic campaigns by pro-environment activists. You will see prosperous villages whose farmlands are turning into prime real estate, their menfolk defecating in the open, oblivious to the curious looks of a trainload of weary passengers.

If you reach here through the air route, the shock will not come until you have left the airport because the Delhi airports have improved substantially over the last couple of years. Its only when you see the unsmiling faces of taxi drivers and their gutkha-stained shirts that you will feel unwelcome. Then when you drive through the city, your vehicle cutting corners, jumping red-lights and narrowly avoiding public transport vehicles (known as Bluelines, for the colour they sport), you will brace yourself for the experience that's going to be yours for the rest of your stay.

You will see the stray cows squatting on busy roads, lots of beggar children at every traffic junction, filth and squalor if you happen to leave the core central area, and every other sight and sound typical to any third-world capital city.

But, Delhi is not all about negatives. This city tends to absorb you. While cities like Chennai (Madras) and Kolkata (Calcutta) are very exclusive and cities like Mumbai (Bombay) treat you as one of the crowd, Delhi will assimilate you very quickly. Over centuries, invaders have flocked to this city like moths to a flame, and they have all left their traces here, and this city has woven them into a rich tapestry.

Don't get me wrong here. This assimilation has never been painless. It has always been the survival of the fittest. Probably that's the reason why you will notice a lot of aggression in the way a typical Delhiite talks and acts. But the fact remains that practically everyone living in this city traces his/ her ancestory to an invader, a nomad or a refugee. Even today, you will find people from all states in every walk of life. A top bureaucrat or a shopkeeper in Lajpat Nagar, a high-end executive or the guy who washes your car - he could be a Punjabi, a UP-walla, a Bengali, a Bihari or a Tamilian with almost equal probability.

The city has another strength - it builds usually without destroying. You will see an ancient fort (aptly named Purana Quila) occupying vast acreage in the heart of town, the ruins of the Hauz Khas village ringed by (but not encroached upon) shops and restaurants.

to be continued....

Delhi is an amazing city right at the onset of winter.

It rained last night and the roads are still wet, trees are still dripping the heavenly nectar, the air is cleaner and is carrying the smells of flowers picked up on their way to your senses. You feel the cool breeze just like the gentle waves of the Bay of Bengal hitting the shore at noon...  

But, I have to go back to my claustrophic enclosure upstairs :(

So the rat is finally out of his hole. And the idiot in the White House could not suppress a grin when he tried to make what he thought was a statesman-like address to his countrymen.

Before I go any further, let me reiterate what I think of Saddam Hussein. He is the scum of the earth; he plundered his great nation of most of its resources over the last three decades; he is (or at least was) a megalomaniac who let loose his perverted sons on an unsuspecting nation. For more, you may like to see my post dated 1st April 2003 .

But the way these American clowns have handled this whole Iraq thing may backfire faster than they imagine.

They ride roughshod over the whole country, trample on the pride of the predominantly Arab populace of Iraq, dismantle all social and political infrastructure without any urgency to rebuild, focus on not having to share the immense bounty with any other country, provoke  more hatred in nine months than they could possibly handle in nine decades, and now this.

I strongly believe that the Americans did not capture Saddam. Most likely he was just tired of living in that hole, and staged his arrest. We will wait for more details from people in the know, but my suspicion is very strong.

I am a Bihari^* and proud to be one.

Wherever I go I have to face questions like, "Do women come out in the streets in Patna?" or "How can you allow a Rabri to rule the state?" and jokes like "Lets give Bihar to Pakistan and then give them Kashmir too" or the one where Laloo tells the Japanese that he would turn Japan into Bihar in a jiffy. Ha! Ha! Good one... except its all not funny beyond a point.

Its true that the state has fallen into an abyss and the politicians are crooks. But remember, what happened in Gujarat has NEVER happened in Bihar; Jayalalitha is no less a crook than Laloo; Mayawati is no more polished than Rabri; Sonia does not have greater credibility than any Bihari politician... and most importantly the average Bihari that you meet is neither a Laloo nor a Rabri and we hate those swine more than anyone else.

Most of us educated Biharis have to look out for opportunities and its not easy for us to give up our roots and settle in alien cities. And, now, our folks (most of them poor labourers) are killed in Assam and threatened by that Big Goon Thackarey in Mumbai. No wonder we can identify the most with vitriolic attacks on Indian expats like in Germany, Malaysia and the US.

Please take time to read this article by a Bihari journalist, M J Akbar, on the plight of the Bihari. And please treat the next Bihari you meet on his/ her merits and not on their provincial affiliation.


^*Bihari: Inhabitant of Bihar, an eastern Indian state. Historically, Bihar has given a great contribution to the composite Indian culture as we know it today. Gautam Buddha, Mahavira and Chanakya were born there. The ancient glorious cities of Pataliputra and Rajagriha, world-famous university of Nalanda, the first republic in the world at Vaishali - they are all there. Over time and due to economic reasons Bihar is now one of India's least developed provinces with low literacy and high infant-mortality levels.

I am living alone now.

 

My darling sister, who shared this apartment with me for last 3 years and ran it almost like clockwork, got married last month and is now off to her in-laws. While she was here she used to chide me on how I'd miss her when she's gone and I used to laugh it away saying, "What is it that you do and I can't?"

 

Now, as I type this, I look around and feel stupid. There is an ashtray (well, actually, a bowl... the real ashtray is full to the brim and lurking somewhere in the shadows of the window sill) next to my worktable, a bottle of J&B giving it company, my clothes from last 4 days are occupying prime real estate on the bed and my books are lazing around in blissful disharmony. The maid had come in yesterday but I had to turn her away since it was too early in the morning (about 7 a.m.) and now I am waiting for her to return today in time for me to leave for office at 9.

 

I have always wanted to live alone, if only to enjoy ‘freedom’ but after I have got it for the first time, I wonder who or what this ‘freedom’ is from. Those of you who know me from my previous blog will know that I have spent most of my life in hostels – impersonal institutions where you either share a room, or a balcony or at least the toilet. When I began working, I wanted to live in a high-end area and my salary wouldn’t allow me to, so I had to share a flat. Then I moved to Delhi and my sister was studying here to it meant we would live together.

 

On the brighter side, (a) I can now invite all my bachelor friends for a session of drunken revelry followed by a decadent orgy; (b) I can get home that elusive aunty who I had been planning a trip to Kathmandu with; (c) I can wear my birthday suit while I do the household chores. But these possibilities look remote as (a) I’m not one for orgies; (b) I haven’t found that aunty and (c) its too cold in Delhi to even think of peeling off your clothes!

 

So, here I am at home alone. Guess I’ll get married now. That I’m “30 and counting” helps.

I am amazed at people who can talk for long over the phone. In turn, these people think I have no etiquette and am completely unsocial.

 

We Indians take a while to come to the point, and we attribute this trait of ours to our 'inherent warmth'. A typical conversation between two typical Indians goes something like:

 

Receiver: Hello

Caller    : Hi R, this is XYZ...how are you?

Receiver: I'm fine, except my dog is having loose motions and my neighbours' newspaper was not delivered today.

Caller    : Oh! Give your dog a mixture of banana paste and haldi (turmeric). When my cousin's dog had loose motions last month, she didn't give him the mix and it took the poor beast ages to recover. Oh, how sad it was...looking at the jolly dog sulking in the corner with a forlorn look in his watery eyes.

Receiver: Really? Just a second... (covering her mouthpiece slightly)... Ramu-kaka, jara kuchh kele le aana aur thodi si haldi...

Caller    : And don't give your neighbour your Indian Express if he comes asking for it. Remember when your paper was soiled last time by rain and he hadn't given you his paper? Bugger deserves to not read the news today!

Receiver: Yeah, I know. And what's up with you?

 

This goes on for about ten minutes before the Caller lets in the real purpose of her call..

 

Caller    : You know, my maid called in sick today, can you ask yours to drop by once she is through at your place?

 

I cannot stand such conversation. So my only recourse is to gently slip away everytime my sister makes or receives a call! This holds true in office too. Most of my colleagues will make small talk for an inordinately long time before they ask the other person what they actually called to ask about.

 

My standard opening line when I call someone is:

 

"Hi XYZ, this is R. How are you doing?"

 

XYZ will typically go:

 

"I am good, except my dog..."

 

Then, I am like:

 

"Great, so listen, can you mail me the presentation you made to V last Thursday?"

 

When I am called, the conversation is even shorter:

 

Me:       “Hi Sanjay, how are you doing?”

Sanjay: “I am good, except my dog…”

Me:       “Haan, batao, how can I help you?”

 

I have been told in subtle and not-so-subtle ways that I come across at cold, aloof and clinical on the phone. Why am I like that when in ‘real life’ I am “so warm, involved and outgoing” (sic)?

 

The truth is I can’t talk to a gadget. I need someone in flesh and blood to let go of my reserve. It’s even worse when I know that the other person is simultaneously checking her email and/or painting her toe-nails while I am talking away to the phallic instrument in my hand. I can’t be the one that helps alleviate the other person’s boredom by wasting the time I could gainfully utilize by checking my emails and/or digging my toe-nails (not painting them, please note!).

 

So, if you happen to call me, please ask me what you have to ask me within 10 seconds of my answering the phone. And if I call you, I would appreciate if you didn’t tell me about the malfunctioning of your pet’s bowels. Call me whatever you feel like, but please keep the call short.

Was it because of Melodrama? Have I been sleeping like the notorious Kumbhakarna¹? Or was I simply lost?

Real reason: I was bored. I was feeling like a loser. Imagine in the middle of a busy workday, I was checking up on other blogs, editing mine and responding to those who left messages. I was worried that I was becoming one of the idiots 'intellectual' magazines (like Newsweek!) keep talking about - dysfunctional human beings whose primary refuge is the net. So, I decided to go into a self-imposed exile for two months.

Now, I am not half as good or famous as my friends Gorgeous and  Alpha, whose absence the whole blog-world laments and who are literally begged by many to return, so I did not leave a post to this effect! I knew I would not be missed much.

The two months are over (and I can't say I was totally off because I was indeed checking up on some of my favourites without, of course, succumbing to the temptation to comment).

A lot has happened in the time gone by...will post updates soon.