The Indian Diaries- Air miles & more

I knew there would be drama involved in my trip to India-after all; India is the land of drama (besides being the land of kamasutra that is). But what I didn’t know was that the drama would start during my travel itself. My disappointment came to surface when I reached the airport and I saw a huge line of brown people on my flight. FML was what came to my mind. I had carefully articulated the facts that this flight would have less brown passengers as compared to the others. My reasoning was very logical and calculated. I was hopelessly wrong with my assumptions and I knew I had no other option but to think positive. It can’t be that bad-I thought to myself.

I don’t like flying with a plane full of brown people because most of them are loud and disrespectful to other people’s space. I say this coz I have many in-flight stories and they all involve disturbances caused by brown people. Like for instance, last time when I was flying to India (like that’s  a surprise!) an old woman (around 70) got up after dinner (when the lights were dimmed down) and took her pillow and threw it in the aisle and then she lay flat in the middle of the aisle-trying to take a nap. I got the shock of my life when I saw this- OMG OMG OMG!. I woke up sister to show her the sight. I was sitting two seats behind on the aisle side watching all this drama unfold. Later the FA (Flight Attendant) came and took care of the situation.  Thank god! I went first class for the rest of the trip coz I don’t think I could have handled any more shock for one flight.

On a similar flight this one time there was a Sardar with a turban sitting in the middle row. After few hours of flying time he removed his turban and put it aside. Just like that he removed his turban amidst of all the people and didn’t bother putting anything else or fixing his sunflower shaped hair. How disrespectful  is that to the other person’s space? Being comfortable is one thing but making others uncomfortable is another.

See I wasn’t lying when I said these things always happen in my flights. This time when I was coming home there was this one annoying kid (about 2-3yrs old) sitting 3 seats in front of me. There were more than 12 kids on the flight but I didn’t hear anyone else except this one. She was throwing tantrums and shrieking nonstop-seriously!. After few hours of trying to divert my attention when it was time to take a nap, and I tried really really hard to ignore that kid but I couldn’t- I had a THAT’S IT moment. I buzzed for an FA.

Me to the FA: “Could you ask that woman to quiet her kid. It’s highly annoying”.

FA: “It’s hard to say that ma’am. It’s a little difficult to travel with kids”.

ME: “There are more then 10 kids on this plane. Do u hear anyone else? And this kid is not an infant or a toddler (trust me, I’ll be understanding then) this is a 3 year old who needs disciple”.

FA: “I’ll try to do whatever I can ma’am”.

ME: “Thank you very much’.

I see the FA go to the lady and say something to her and since then for the rest of the flight I did not hear even a squeak from that kid. My sis who was traveling with me rolled her eyes for I had given her the look of ‘And that’s how its done!’ I was so glad that the attendant talked to the lady coz I was this close to go myself and give her a piece of my mind. If you can’t discipline your kids don’t bring them to this world to annoy other people coz it’s not the kid that is being blamed for but you and your upbringing.

All this drama before I touch India. Imagine what is in store for me while I am there.

More to come…


The Big Question

Every time I plan to go home I am faced with one big question- when are you getting married? Being brown and slowly passing the  marriageable age (way pass the ideal settling down age which in Indian standards is 24?) I think I am causing a lot of worry to certain Indian people who are neither family nor close friends. I find that amusing that it is not my family who shows concerns (knowing me well) but it’s usually ‘other ppl-the so-called well wishers” who are worried sick of my future. They are not just worried about my future apparently they are confused why my family is not bothered by my lifestyle. What really really bothers them is when they come to my folks and ask them when they are marrying off their kids and they get a reply- The kids are big enough to make that decision when they want too…(Gotto luv maa for that). The expressions that follow are priceless.

It’s very difficult for these people to grasp the concept of a single independent woman who is happy with her life. They don’t get it. How can you be happy when you are not married and have no plans to start a family any time soon. How is that even possible? I simply smile and confuse them.

Then the next round of questions start when I don’t answer anything straight.

They- “Are u seeing someone?”

Me- Are you my mother-well then, I guess I don’t have to answer u, do i?

They- “You are living so far away, you must be seeing someone.” You didn’t find any eligible boy there?

Me-  I censor myself from what comes first in my mind and end the conversation with a sarcastic remark (which always annoys them and gives me the utmost satisfaction)

I don’t argue with them neither I give explanations but I do feel sad/sorry for them coz they don’t realize there is much more to life then settling down at the age of wa’ever u find ideal. I am not against settling down I am against living by numbers and living conventionally (and much more).

Not everyone wants the same outta life like your daughter did. Not everyone wants to have kids like your son plans to have. Not everyone likes to eat Indian food everyday. Not everyone can abide by your decisions just to make you happy like your daughter did. Some dare to be different…some dare to know what they want. Some dare to speak their opinions and live it like they want- I just happen to be one of them.

In the end, as soon as I got ma tickets booked I knew- somehow, somewhere, I’ll have the same conversation next time I am home.

A Beautiful Mess

There is something that pulls you towards someone. There is something very strong very profound- it’s the true desire to be close to someone. It starts from the invasion of thoughts to disruption of daily schedule with excessive day-dreaming, and worst, letting a single thought take charge of your entire being. You know from that point onwards that things will change. The attraction that pulls you towards that someone is impossible to explain.

You know that the inevitable will happen and no matter how hard you try to fight it, you know in your heart you’ll lose. People enduring this avidity are in no rush; they live each moment reverently. The color of life changes color and there is a new rhythm in their stride. These people are now in love with life. The emotion that erupts is so strong that it spreads like an infection-inside out. This virus is beyond any cure; instead it makes the heart push out love notes from the very core.

Everyone gets infected by this desire to love (life) at some point of their journey.  Everyone has their own story.  But whatever the story people in this state experience a desire in its purest form.

As for me, I call it a mess- a beautiful mess.

* The post is purely on R&D of true life events-not!

The Hub

Its where I grew up as me,
Its the place that welcomed VIP’s
It was a hub of activities,
A Place-To-Be
It was my room,
loaded with privacy.

It where we ate, we drank, and we laughed,
Its where everyone got dressed
& fought for their mirror’s half,
It was where the phone nd music never stopped
Prolly why we missed class after class?

Its where I got my first kiss,
Its where I realized; Wa luv really is?
Its where my heart broke a thousand pieces
Its where I packed my bags and left for studies.

Once again I’m in this room
I heart it all, I c it thru.
A flash of moments run thru ma mind,
like life captured in images of black nd white

It was a Place-To-Be,
Loaded with privacy
My room, the hub of activities.

Effin’ long weekend

You hear it on the news everyday but u never pay much attention coz u think this will never happen to u. Well, it did. It was the start of the long weekend (a 4.5 days long), a perfectly well laid out with plans long weekend. Little did i know that all my plans were about to change.

Day 1- Friday
6.30pm- I realized I forgot my wallet at work. FML. Living without all your cards and id’s for four days is not even a question. I knew I had to get it back. So without thinking I start driving to work. I know no one is there past 5pm except maybe security. As I approached the main door I hear a voice- is it God? No can’t be coz its telling me to come back another day and another time. The genius in me concluded it must be security. How did they know? I didn’t even touch the front door yet- Creepers! After figuring out where the voice was coming from (which was a hidden intercom that u never notice even thou u walk past that damn thing every single day) I answered back.

After explaining the whole situation, after flashing my ID in front of the camera, after numerous other security steps I finally got thru them. At this point I was waiting for someone to escort me into the building; I was quite impressed by their apt response to the whole situation. Finally the door opened and a security lady (a polite one indeed) escorted me to my desk after un-alarming 3 doors- wow, the building looks so-different at this hour I thought to myself. I walk to my desk and I got my wallet from my drawer and I apologized for the inconvenience I caused to the whole security department. To which they said: “Your are not the first, and you probably won’t be the last!”. Chee Thanx. That makes me feel a whole lot better. That was one ordeal but not even close to what I was going to experience the very same night.


I was laying in my bed when I thought I heard rapid gunshots at a very close range. I jumped up at the sound of that. WTF, I thought to myself. After waiting for few seconds, I went close to the window and I stood behind the wall (obviously I won’t stand in front of the window- what if I get shot?) and peaked through my blinds. I saw someone run in the distance but I could only see the legs and that the man was wearing a black and white track pants. Thanx to the tree in front of my window I could not see the ethnicity of the man. OMG should I call the police? I thought to myself. Then I wondered if my sister heard it so I went to her room and she was doing precisely the same thing- watching through her blinds. After few mins we saw the cops patrol our neighborhood. Oh this did not look good. They were patrolling on foot with flashlights (the kinds u see in CSI). I was patrolling inside my house trying to figure out what happened. They did not let anyone come out of the house. After spending 45 mins trying to piece together all the possibilities that could have happened, I decided I was too tired to think any further and went to bed.

Day 2- 9.30 AM

I was woken up by my sister- “You need to get up”, she said. I did. Quietly followed her downstairs coz I knew she had to tell me or show me something-it was the look on her face that gave that away. That was wen I saw our front door window was smashed and all the glass was lying inside our house. WTF I say again- Well its kinda automatic when things like these happen. I can’t help it. I tried to calm her down reasoning that its prolly someone who wanted to hide at our place and has smtg to do with the gunshots we heard last nite. No worries, i told her. Let’s call the Cops. Before doing that, I just wanted to have a look from outside my house. When i did go outside I saw it was not just the front door glass they have broken but my garage door has 6-7 tiny dents in it and the lamp outside is broken too. Yes, u guessed it -WTF? Well, what else do u expect me to say?

Anyways, I called the cops and they just filed a report and put the whole thing under-Home Vandalism. They didn’t even bother to show up and c if it could be possible smtg else- like a targeted attack? After talking to the neighbours we found out that there were two guys with hockey sticks wandering around our neighbourhood making lot of noise. They saw them and yelled and scared them away. Thts prolly wen I saw someone run thru my window last nite. Someone else from the neighborhood also filed a report against them but the no-good cops didn’t tell us that but we had to call them back to tell them to cross reference the two reports. Seriously, shouldn’t the cops know this? I was pissed off! My home is vandalized, I duno who did it, why they did it, is it targeted?, the cops never showed up, I have to fix all this mess- all this BULLSHIT for no god damn reason. This is not how I had planned my long weekend. God I was sooo pissed. FML!

So, after spending hours being scared and pissed I started cleaning up. Let me tell u cleaning up shattered pieces of glass all over the floor is NOT an easy job. They got me twice.

I am a person who needs logical reasoning to everything. And till I figure out what had happened I couldn’t rest in peace. It was around 4 in the evening I talked to my aunt who also lives in the same vicinity and found out that those kids were creating a lot if disturbance in their neighborhood and that our place was just a random attack. That is when I talked to some other neighbours as well and it all fell in one pc- it was just a random attack by some drunkard teenagers who had ntg better to do in life.

It did help knowing what had happened but it still makes me mad on many levels. How can someone shake the very secured feeling that a house gives u for no reason? Why do we rely on police for our security? I learned that its every man for himself in the world we live in today. Its not fair- I did not had to go thru this and feel insecured in my own house just because some kids decided it would be fun to wreck someone’s place. I have learnt many things from this experience and as always it has made me stronger then ever. Life’s like that!

p.s. The weekend from that evening onwards started looking better. It did end well. Thank Heavens!

Ziba nd I

She’s stylish, she’s smart, she’s sexy, and she’s brilliant. Yes am talking about Ziba! Anyone who knows me knows about Ziba. And those who don’t- well, u knw where u are in my books then. She is my baby and I get deeply offended when ppl don’t ask me how is ziba ever once in a while. Sometimes, they (emotionally nd technologically challenged ppl) often ask me what does Ziba mean and how come she is a she? Or worse yet they say- Its just a notebook! Oh they get in trouble I tell u that. Before I go on to answer their questions- they get a look from me. Yes, you know that look. So I decided I should get the facts straighten out once and for all- Ziba means Beautiful in Persian and anything that is hawwt, smart, sexy, and intelligent can only be a woman! And no its not JUST a notebook.

There is more then that to Ziba- She’s got a radiant yet warm personality. She captivates ur attention and indulges you into a magical world where you forget reality and are connected one-on-one with her. She’s skilled in stealing ur time without ur awareness and yet leaves u feeling satisfied in the most guilt-free way. She is quite advanced than her fellow kind and very talented as well. Oh did I mention she is a brilliant multi-tasker and a great entertainer?

She gets a little jealous when I dnt spend enough time with her or when I start talking about upcoming notebooks. She feels threatened somehow. One time I decided it would be nice for Ziba to meet her other kinds so I introduced her to a Mac. They didn’t last very long coz Ziba complained that he (the MAC) doesn’t run too long and isn’t stylish enough (ziba can rotate 180 degrees and can fold flat and is a Touchscreen) for her. She does have a lot of attitude coz of her features. So now she is happily single and looking for a suitable playbook. (An add on craigslist mite help?)

It will be almost one year next week since Ziba came into ma life and she already has a list of accessories she would like for her special day. In this one year Ziba and I had some great times together even when she threw random scans on me for not spending quality time with her- yet we make a happy duo.

-This ones for u Ziba
❤ ❤


I love cereals. From healthy ones with fiber content more than 3gms to not so healthy ones like Fruit loops that will make me extra sweet and keep my energy level to the roof. I can eat cereals for breakfast, dinner, I-dunno-wa-else-to-eat-times, and if that’s not all I think they make a great dessert too.

My absolute favorite is Honey Nut Cheerios (thou I love the new Oat Cluster Cheerios & Multi-Grain cheerios amongst others)

I have a cupboard devoted to my cereal boxes (no they are not arranged alphabetically- am not crazy you know!) When I started watching Seinfeld, a decade ago, I was elated to notice that I was not the only cereal fixated in the world. And since then I have great respect for Jerry Seinfeld. Possessing a marketing mastery, I have a keen eye on the boxes and its contents, knowing how the company is playing with the minds of customers using various marketing clichés. But I do admit all my business knowledge goes out of the window when I open the box and expertly open the off-white plastic bag and smell the contents with ‘aahhhh….’, which is usually followed by a handful taste checks, as if I suspect the contents inside.

If you are a close observer like me, you’ll notice that when you put milk in your cereals they always make a crackling sizzling sound. That’s sugar for you baby! Unfortunately, most people mess up with the milk/cereal ratio. It always amuses me that how some people can never get it straight. Making the rite bowl of cereals with the perfect milk/cereal ratio that makes rhythmic sounds-is an art! I also believe if you can listen to someone talk while your eating cereals then my friend you’ve waited too long to get to your bowl.

I know there will come a day when people will go out for cereals-like going out for drinks, coffee or pitas. I wonder what it would be like to own a place called ‘c-reals’z’ with cereals displayed in fine cylinder like glass containers (as in glass bar or assorted candies in the grocery store). You could order your own cereal-mix it and match it with your choice of milk (or perhaps Baileys: for those who like to live on the wild side) with add-ons like freshly cut fruits to dry nuts. Ok, I guess I may be on to something. I think am gonna stop writing about what could be a potential business plan. Also, all this cereal talk has made me very hungry. Excuse me; I think I need my bowl of ‘o’s. Cheerios for Cheerios!