we are like this only

…Why I am banging my head on a stone wall hoping to numb brain activity so as to make sense of this! I was away in the US visiting my sister when I got a message from Vodafone that my mobile usage had exceeded my credit limit and that I should immediately pay up a certain amount. I forwarded the message to A who paid up immediately. The day after that payment, I got another message saying that twice the earlier amount was outstanding and that I should pay up immediately. By that time I was in the middle of a mess caused by the volcano, busy rerouting my flight and making hotel bookings and so on for the return trip, so this was the last thing on my mind. Plus as it happened, after I got that message, my phone stopped receiving any network signals so I couldn’t make calls or send any messages from it. I landed back last Thursday and at the airport when I tried to call A, I got a message saying that calls were disbarred. I told A but what with the extreme exhaustion after havin...

So the census people visited my place when I was away. Rather, they were at my parents' place, and A and the kids were there, and by way of bizarre coincidence, I had called in so was part of a telephonic census. My parents refused to name their caste, of course. Then it was A's turn. So he admits to being Muslim and is asked, "what caste?". Took him a while to convince the censustaker that Muslims don't have a caste. Then my details were taken. And the census lady says I'll be put down as a Muslim because I'm married to one. Excuse me, I'm married to a man, so does that make me a man too? What rubbish! So I was indignantly frothing at the mouth and gibbering remarks and vituperations to A who was patiently, in his quiet yet forceful way trying to explain to said lady that I remained and would continue to remain a Hindu. And what of our three Mundus? Heaven - or rather the census officials only know. I have little confidence in the ability of these guy...

When I began preparing to take the CAT, I was very clear that IIM C was the one I was gunning for. Rusty (PGP 91), a neighbor, had waxed eloquent on his vacation trips home, about nights spent hanging out on Howrah Bridge, music sessions on the jetty by the lake and mishthi in the canteen. Ravi (PGP 91 IIM A), a close friend, had complained miserably about the hyper competitiveness prevalent there, where classmates stashed critical reference books in wrong sections of the library so other classmates would be unable to find them. IIM B sounded very boring, because all my relatives lived near Bangalore and I had nightmare visions of one or other of them wanting me to go home every weekend. Not to mention Bangalore brings on my worst asthma attacks. Luckily, I got in. When we all trooped into IIM C, I don't know what other people expected but I had had visions of a grand old campus – reminiscent of some of the famous campuses of the world, Oxford, Harvard and so on. I was pretty shock...

I've always had an irregular kind of exercise routine. Back when I was single and living a pampered life chez parents, I would keep starting workout routines - sometimes a Jane Fonda tape, which actually used to show amazing results really fast, sometimes on an exercycle I bought cheap from a friend, and once, after I attended a workshop of yoga and meditation, I did both of those for about a month. Later, when I was a student in France, I'd go to the gym. I've always loved working out at gyms, and most of all, working out with weights. It gives me a real high to literally be able to test my limits and feel them being pushed week by week. I think, in terms of body structure, I'm a mesomorph so I do better with weights than with pure cardio. In any case, I've never loved pure cardio because I tend to start wheezing when I run. Even way back in school, the most I did was participate in the 80 meter run. I started exercising properly when Chubbocks was around 2 - I nee...

The Ruchika case is not news to most people anymore. And almost all of us want that smug, self-righteous, pompous smirk wiped off from Rathore's face. But is that enough? does that mean justice is served? What about all the bureaucrats who failed to act on time to the various investigative reports that were filed? What about the policemen who acted like brainless goons and followed Rathore's instructions to lock up and beat up Ruchika's brother? What about all the politicians - Chief Ministers, Home Ministers and so on - who consistently ignored the case and kept promoting Rathore till he became the DGP of Haryana? What about the stupid, antiquated, inadequate laws that allow the punishment for something like this to be as minimal as six months, and then let the guy off on bail? What about the courts that threw out the complaint of abetting suicide when it was filed by the CBI? In fact, in general, what about the unholy nexus between politicians, bureaucrats, influential/ ...

I remember watching a TV program recently in which the young woman said her husband is very supportive of her career. 'He says as long as the house and kids are taken care of, he has no problem with my working'. I know Indian men are typically less liberated but even so, I'm appalled that someone would in this day and age consider that statement as supportive. But I know someone who works in advertising, is very senior, runs a multi-crore business and supervises hundreds of employees. Yet in her house, she is forbidden from hiring a cook and wakes up at five every day to cook food for the family, and never stays overnight when she travels because she has to cook for the next day. Some of my friends who have made traded careers for being stay-at-home moms find that suddenly their equation with their husband, which used to be that of an equal, has suddenly changed to junior/ silent partner and that the whole relationship revolves around what is convenient for the husband, rat...

I’m not very good at remembering dates, usually – I forget what date it is unless I am writing an official letter to someone, I forgot to wish A on his birthday this year because I just had a complete black out when I woke up…but last year this day has been on my mind all day. Bojjandi was a newborn, less than 2 months old, dad was out of town, and we were all staying at my parents’ place, grandma included, when mom switched to a news channel and we sat, horrified, for the next few days as the crazy, nightmarish events unfolded on national television. It was horrific, it was tragic…and it was unnecessary. Delhi, where I live, has been the target of terrorist attacks for years now, since the Punjab terrorism began all those years back. I remember, back in 1992, one of my classmates from the South came to Delhi for a vacation and two of us picked him up from the station. We got onto a DTC bus and he was startled to see a sign saying “Watch out for unidentified packages. There could be a ...