My life of gluttonous adultery - a food affair

The reason I call it an affair is because a) there is a sense of secrecy around it, b) it's never boring and c) it's bad but still so damn good.

Secrecy - I need to come out. I am in love with food. Food is so much more to me than a mean to an end. I remember this was not always the case. My mom used to feed me Kiddi Pharmeton (or something similar) to boost my appetite. All in vain. I was a horrible child.

Sometime in college, I embraced the freedom of choice by indulging in all that I couldn't at home (most girls then were experimenting with affairs of the more obvious kind). I slept with cookies and chocolates and chips and other junk.

I reveled in the fact that my body did not gain weight according to my diet (oh, how wrong I was!). For the fear of being called a soulless glutton, I shrouded my new-found lover in secrecy. I met with him surreptitiously and spent hours with a satisfied smile plastered over my face. Friends must have wondered about my euphoria.

But as is the case with all affairs, mine too ended in deceit and pain. All through my glorious days, I was cautiously oblivious to the fact that I was in fact logging on kilos. My reasoning was that if my lover did not care why should I. I even fooled myself into believing it was the right thing for me to do. Become fat. And by fat I mean morbidly fat - so close to obesity that I actually let go - being fat is a small price to pay for the pleasure of tasting lard, right?

I don't know what kicked me back into high gear (or rather, who) but I started gymming like a frantic possessed woman. I became one of those calorie-counting freaks you see on health forums. Yes. I visited those forums.

For a good 5 months, my affair turned into genuine affection and perhaps even love. My relationship turned into one of mutual care and understanding. I almost got married. I've tried to remain committed but it hasn't been easy. University beckoned me once again, this time with the added lure of fries and cheesy burritos. I had another affair on the sly, but managed to keep both my love and lover happy. My love just needs occasional meetings with the gym and remains pleased. My lover, on the other hand, required weekly feedings to remain satiated. Nevertheless, I got through this tumultuous phase relatively scathe-free. Or so I thought.

Every affair leaves a mark. This second one left me with an addiction to small quantities of sugar. I need my fix. Everyday. I guess its a reasonable addiction, considering half the world is addicted to either nicotine or caffeine.

I have now come to terms with living two lives, and with less secrecy. It's not fun anymore.

Of Indian summers and a prolonged crisis in identity

The more I dwell on it, the more I feel like I belong in India. After all, it is the one place I can call as mine. I've had an identity crisis since a very early age. Being born and bought up in Kuwait, for the longest time I did not know how to answer the simple question - where are you from? Most times the answer I give to this question is highly dependent on my mood or the intention of the questioner. For example, when I moved to India for my undergraduate education, I'd answer Kuwait to seniors - mainly to protect myself from ragging. You know, its an unwritten rule in Indian colleges that seniors from a particular state can rag juniors from their state only. So I assumed it was safe for me to say Kuwait - as the probability of encountering a senior from Kuwait was low. When my classmates would ask me the same question - I would reply either Delhi, Mumbai or Gujarat. The reason for this is that I did not want to be alienated as that snob NRI from Kuwait (that's the common perception - sometimes rightly so, of NRI kids).

This identity crisis followed me to grad school too. Here, it got easier for me, but confused a lot of people from other nationalities. Many would have the strangest responses and reactions to me telling them I am from Kuwait. They'd coyly respond that I looked very 'Indian'! That's when I would have to clarify that I do indeed hold an Indian passport.

All of these multiple identities made it very difficult for me to figure out where exactly I was from and where was it that I would be the happiest living. I always figured that I would not mind moving to different cities across the world given that I had a third culture upbringing.

After many months of introspection, I came to realize that India is the only place I would want to be. Let me try to explain this. This may seem like the kind of conclusion one could come up with in seconds. For me, India has always been a place for amazing summer vacations - I'd visit relatives (living in their houses) and go to new places (hill stations being the preferred choice) and live in hotels. This system made it impossible for me to consider one particular city as 'home'. My parents did have an apartment but I never got to stay in it (its still unfurnished and in total disarray).

Furthermore, my undergraduate education took place in a college town far away from the aforementioned cities I could call home. Initially, I thought of the situation as a wonderful opportunity - I could literally choose a city I liked and make it my home. In some ways, it still is just that. But as people who know me will vouch - I am extremely indecisive. Making a decision that could potentially impact the rest of my life is something I instinctively run away from.

These past few days, I have had a chance to think about the reality of my future. Previously I would fantasize it to unimaginable bounds. Starting a job and looking forward to a certain kind of life has made me narrow down my possibilities and choices to concrete workable options.

The only uncertainty (which I kinda embrace) is me wanting to study further. But even including this option (this could only happen after a sure 3-4 years or work), I would still like to move back to India and finally give it the attention and respect that it deserves.

You can also follow me on : http://apekshagajjar.tumblr.com/
- My iota of space on the WWW just got a little bigger!

Of the talkative kind

Its been a really really long time since I have had a conversation with someone. A meaningful conversation. Not just small talk. But good, really good conversation. Stimulating.

I have just realized it is so important to be able to communicate effectively. Not talk, but communicate. And that includes listening.

There are very few people I know with whom I can carry on a conversation. Probably 2 or 3.
Makes you wonder, life is nothing but a long, really long conversation with yourself. Others just jump in and out of it. Amazingly, if you do try to talk to yourself, it is extremely gratifying. It may seem strange, self-absorbed, inane, or just stupid. but nevertheless, doing it, introspecting, and just generally keeping in touch with "I" really helps. But thats just me. 

At least I know I can never be truly bored.

Of the Mind-Numbing Matter

The human mind is an amazing thing. I think we can live the entirety of a fantasy in our mind, and be strangely content when it doesn't follow our real life. Because we subconsciously do not want it to come true. 

For normal human beings, this way they get to have the best of both worlds.  That tiny portion of my brain that stores memories of my life gets to store these virtual memories. And one day in the distant future I will retrieve these virtual memories and might even feel a tad nostalgic. Because that’s what a powerful thing our brain is. It really doesn't not seem to amaze me ever. 

Ofcourse when it gets out of hand is when you suffer from these crazy disorders, named in such a way that the people suffering from them can at least get a hold on what's happening to them if not anything else in their life! Multiple Personality Disorder. Can it get any simpler than this. It doesn't even warrant an explanation. Lets not go to schizophrenia yet.

Of Unprovoked Randomness

This is most definitely random, but I want to say this - I love cupcakes. Strange, as I don't really like cakes. Especially not those ghastly birthday cakes with diabetes-inducing icing. But miniaturize them and I cannot resist one. 

Of Nonsensical Adventures

For those of you who bother about my geographical whereabouts, I am now firmly planted in perhaps the most politically powerful and charged city - D.C. What's with me and capital cities - I seem to find them as a bee to honey. This city actually does exude power - those bespoke suits and Ray-Bans and leather briefcases holding papers that change the world's destiny, it isn't as exciting and fast-paced as NYC, but it has its own politicized charm which I am beginning to savor.

The only thing that irks me here is the utter lack of creativity in naming streets - this is the case in most US cities I guess, and being an outsider it seems to me that their forefathers couldn't be bothered to give creative (or atleast unique) names to streets. I am surprised they managed to come up with unique state names! 

I get that D.C. can have state names as street names, but why other cities? It really is a shame when you have to say that you live on Wisconsin Avenue in L.A.!

Before this post quickly turns into a full-fledged rant, I would like to mention that D.C. is super-cool. The clear lack of indians here (I come from Palo Alto - the indian techie haven) is surprisingly refreshing, the university population - young and vibrant, and in general, that eager, "I am here to make a difference in the future of this country by changing its policies" look on a lot of people (unlike the "I am here to make a lot of money" and later, "I make a lot of money" look on people from New York) is refreshing and strangely motivating. 

They say that by just being within sneezing distance to a politician, you could become one - all I have to say is - bless you. And I am buying a barge pole, just in case!

Of Blogs...

I love reading blogs. I mean really well written, thoughtful everyday blogs. Blogs which do not cater to any specific audience. Blogs written from the heart. Like a diary. Blogs written by people with simple lives which seem extraordinary to me. Blogs written with emotion. Blogs, which from reading you think you know the person writing it intimately. Blogs that make you want to live life. Blogs which give little glimpses of softness of the city they are written in, which let you experience their life so beautifully that you for a minute forget yours. Blogs written like a never-ending piece of poetry. Blogs written with little or no grammatical errors. Blogs that make you want to write about your daily life. Blogs written with no-one in mind. Blogs written for no-one.

Written while reading this: http://withoutmelissa.tumblr.com/

The most painful thing in life is when parents outlive their children.

One lonely night

Its strange when you look at yourself not from the inside but as a third person. Not as what you want to be perceived as but as how others perceive you anyway. I have unconciously always wanted to be the center of a conversation. I guess early on I figured out that I cannot be the "speaker" in a group, so I settled for being the "speakee". i am the happiest when I am around people who are talking about me. It doesn't matter if they are making fun or even laughing at me as long as it has me in it. Well, this is how I wanted to be perceived.

The other day, actually night, I had this experience wherein I wasn't in me. Sounds stupid. It kinda is. I was looking at myself in suspension. Good opportunity to figure out who I am, right? Thats exactly what I did. I realized that I have matured a lot over the past year. I know, mature is a very generic term which could mean a multitude of things, the most obvious of it is that I have begun to understand the meaning of life, the universe and everything. Not exactly. I figured out the smaller, teeny tiny things are the ones which have matured me in a way. Like the fact that I know I like flowers, which in my childhood and adolesence I didn't, because I might be perceived as a girly girl, which I was trying to avoid, because I wanted to project an image of self awareness and confidence, which I thought could only be acheived by acting unlike other girls around me, who liked flowers! So, in essence, I did not never hate flowers, I just avoided what they represented for me. I have matured. But only just so.

I want to run after a passing train and try to catch it. I want to do it in a parallel universe. But in this particular one, where I currently am, I want to just sit on the platform and observe the train pass me by, without the slightest sense of urgency that I am feeling now. That would be perfect day for me. The perfect world. The perfect life.

Charade's over folks!

Should let you all know that independent charade (see previous previous post) went on for about a month before I decided to transfer the reins over.

Vacation: Leisure time away from work devoted to rest or pleasure. Essentially meaning: to vacate your life of all that has been going on. A perfect word to describe whats been happening with me.

Lived at my parents for the better part of last year. And it was one the best 'vacations' that I've had in a long time. This was the first time when I actually knew I could be home indefinitely (hadn't decided on my applications for masters yet). It didn't scare me. Somehow it made me feel strangely at peace with my surroundings. Liberating. I wasn't in a hurry to shop-till-I-drop, I wasn't gorging on food I wouldn't get elsewhere, I wasn't trying to watch all the TV I could in a week.

Now I am back to the real world. Where I have a purpose, mission. Where I have distinct demarcations between weekdays and weekends. Where I don't have time to eat what I want, watch what I want and go where I want. But I am not complaining. Anybody who knows me knows that I am what they call a 'chronic student'. I just love to study. Its pleasurable to me. Yes. I am in university. In a library. In the basement. Liberating again.

Got a close on 6 months of no blogging. In all probability, its going to another 6 months before I resurface. Which doesn't really matter. Who reads this anyway? :)

(Feels good being given one tiny iota of space on this WWW, knowing I could write anything down. Humbling I say.)

Word Play

New favorite word - symphony

I do lean towards words starting with 's' which have softer syllables. But thats just me.

Words I dislike immensly - medley, cadet, chicago, any word beginning with 'rh'. Yuk!

Alone

My first day living entirely on my own. Hurray!!

Technically, the day ain't over yet but I feel compelled to declare it as a success. My mum left yesterday. I am amazed at the detailed arrangements she had made before leaving for making my life easier and convenient post departure. You know, these are the kind of things that makes a mom a mom. The funny thing is I will notice most of these things only after she has left. Lots will unravel in the coming days.

I kinda feel strangely independent. I've lived away from my parents since after school. But there was always an element of security. Or something like that. This is my first living totally on my own. I don't know why I insisted on mom not sending her mom over to take care of me (like I needed "taking care"??) I just want to get by 2 weeks on my own. Its a mind thing. After that I really don't mind my grand mom coming over or anybody for that matter.

Two weeks baby, two weeks of unadulterated fun...hmmm....uhmmmm...yea....i think so.... (doubtful crease over my forehead)

My magical larynx

My favorite word - serendipity

Love the sound of it. Can speak it over and over again. Trouble is, don't come across a lot of situations where I can use it convincingly. Actually, have been able to use it just once. Felt real good. Engaged dad in a doctored conversation (Took a total of 12 minutes), and when the moment came, used my best voice (yes, I have different sets of voices I use for different situations) and said it with slow deliberance. Oh, that felt good. Totally worth it.

Must suggest everyone to have favorite word. Makes sense.

Blood is fun!

Lets play critic!
Movie at hand - KILL BILL

I know, I know, its old, almost ancient for most, but I chose this because it has changed my perception of cinema. I am not from the Vin Diesel-Van Damme-Wesley Snipes fan club, and Chick flicks are just plain stupid - barring a few.

I come from the comedy-thriller-adventure movie genre. So I was pleasantly surprised when Tarantino managed to combine all these into a single movie reel. We all are aware of exaggerations in movies, but this guy takes it to a whole new level. Fyi, this was one of the few Tarantino movies I have seen and a die-hard fan is what he has turned me into. (I seriously did like the Batman series!)



Both the volumes are equally fantastic, but if asked to pick a favorite, I would go for the first part, coz it contains all that action and gore! The pace of the movie is excellent. 5 stories, called chapters are shown in non-chronological order and are testament to Tarantino's story -telling abilities. Each chapter has been dealt with surgical-like precision. The limited "hall-of-fame-making" dialogues are indeed a treat - wholly blending in with the theme of the movie - which is revenge.

Uma Thurman is magnificent! The role was tailor-made for her and she sure does justice to it.

Completely unconventional filmimg - comic-book type. (Again, remember the Batman series??)

But I think what sets this movie apart from its contemporaries is the use of different kinds of sequences - including Japanese Anime - which shows blood in all its bloody detail! Here is where the deliberate over-the-top bloodletting comes in. Strangely, this is what ends up making the movie a must-see and a archivable item. if this bloody gore wasn't there, I am sure it would be another glamorized Tomb Raider!

Holler with me!

Its been a long wait! I know!

On the pretext of sounding mundane, I'd like to stay that nothing new has happened during the eternity-like phase that has elapsed. I did nothing adventurous, crazy or just plain Apeksha-like. Nothing at all.

Oh yea, I did graduate and got a job. But thats MUNDANE to the core. So again, nothing new.

I have a couple of really long posts coming soon, something I wrote while enduring endless lectures and seminars inflicted on us like goodbye wounds from college and welcome hits by the organization we were being oriented into. I am not much of a writer, but believe me, I could have become Kaavya Vishwanathan had they made me glue my posterier to that chair marked 1 (nice!) a day more!

So I wrote and I wrote till my hands were numb, not from the writing but from the 17 degree C ominously blinking from the a/c panel, and dropping. I wrote till my next seat neighbors started inquiring about my state of mind and well being. They probably thought I am one of those rare species of nerds who manage to absorb every word coming out of the presenter's mouth and encapsule it for life on paper! Their bad!

As for the content of the scribblings, it will come soon. Unedited (who will know?!). Right here.

I am back.

Pay it forward!!

For those of you who have seen the movie by the same name, you'll know what it means. For the uninitiated, - its a practice where A helps B, B helps C, C helps D and so on. So instead of returning a favour, you "pay it forward".
I always thought of this idea as utopian and totally unworkable. Only coming into final year of arch has made me realize its significane and use. As juniors, we are asked to specifically help out our seniors in doing sheets, reports, dog work, etc. For the most, seniors harldy return the favor by doing our sheets and submissions. Its not because they consider themselves as 'superior' or something. Its simply because they have goine through the same routine themselves.
Final year thesis is the actual testing ground of this theory. Each senior 'recruits' a number of juniors to work for him/her exclusively. What does the junior get in return (besides the 'learning experience', bah!)?? The junior gets an assurance of sorts that when he/she reaches final year, he/she will get to do the same. A classic case of paying it forward. And not unwillingly.

Is it worth it?

Its been five long years of Architecture and endurement of my classmates, who I have been bound to (some willingly, others totally out of neccesity and helplessness!!). So thought its high time I actually write about this precious half a decade of my life. Yes, you are going to learn a lot more about my "life" and the meaning of the term in general.
I figured the reason my engineering counterparts don't really have an opinion on all their classmates is because they are simply too many to even count! We are a tiny class of 26 and believe it or not, no one gossips like we do. Wildfire spreads very easily when there are just 26 trees to be consumed!! This is not a comparision post(or an upmanship post, though we all know who will come out as the undisputed winner, don't we??). Our lives are practically inter-twined with each other - lots of sharing and caring going on!! Jokes apart, enigneering students spend close to 3 years with their fellow classmates as opposed to our 5 long, gruelling years. These years do take a toll on you. I think I've finally gotten to know my fellow classmates inside out. I'm not underlining the statement yet. And I find quirky madness everywhere. Which makes me wonder (yes, daydreaming again!) how many types of personalities are there in the world. Is it at all possible to classify them into neat moulds? Zodiac signs just tell you what you want to hear. I cannot believe they've stood the test of time for this long. Surely people by now would have seen through them?? Nope. Human nature baby. We want to be constantly told from outsiders, people we don't even know, about our "feelings", "character" and "future". Blah.
How much time does it take for you to know a person? Sure, first impressions form in a second, but do they always last? I remember forming my own sweet opinion about everyone I saw on my first day of college (funny, it seems like reminiscing!) Anyway, 9 out of 10 turned out to be the opposite of what I had thought them to be. Conclusion. Human nature is fickle, prejudiced, racist (believe me on this one!). But its not all that bad too. It can care and love and give hope. And it makes people gossip. That isn't bad at all!!! ;)

PS: On a different note, is it worth trying to know someone through or just manage superficially (I fall in the latter category)??

Heroes vs. Shaktiman

Was watching this new series - Heroes. Initially, seemed like mayhem - characters getting introduced after every commercial break and each one of them having weird powers. Looks like something out of Nickelodeon? Well, it is. Its as crazy as it sounds. But some how these firangs have the capability to take a bizzare topic and turn it into 'edge of your seat' interesting (think Independence Day and X-Files). We don't for once think of it as stupid and impossible. Hell, its the impossible factor that draws us to it. We call it - entertaining the child within us. Superman, Batman, Spiderman - hugely successful films - not because of special effects but simply because they are larger than life.
Shaktiman - I don't remember being an avid fan of this serial but I have cousins who swear by it (well, I don't think thy've reached that age yet!). And I scorn. How can you like a serial as inane as Shaktiman? It shows a middle-aged, potbellied man saving lives and the world - in a costume. Is it because we don't have the CGI and special effects upto the standard? No. Its our mind, and the way we think. West is the best. However crazy, dumb, stupid, incomprehensible it may be. Dhoom 2 is a smash hit. I know why. I will probably never like Shaktiman, I am blinded by the phoren culture. But someday I would want to appreciate those K-serials as much as Baywatch and Beverly Hills.

Vanity

"Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us." - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

This ain't a book review. Pride and Prejudice, being one of my all time favorite books deserves a worthy mention here. And if you know me, you'll probably expect a lot more posts of this kind, books being the one of the few things I am passionate about.
I like feeling nostalgic. There is something about nostalgia and memories that stirs up some chemical in our body which invariably makes us feel good - even if the memory is bad. I cannot believe that a thought about one's past can invoke such a strong bodily reaction. Amazing.
Coming back to the post, Jane Austen has taken love as a metaphor in explaining this simple vice that everyone has experienced at some point in their lives. Pride - is it ever justified? I knew a girl back in high school who had it all - looks, brains, luck. And she was proud of it. I hated her back then. Why she and why not me? Everybody has a right to an opinion, be it of themselves or others. So why did most of us hate this rather sweet girl who just revelled in what god had given to her? I wouldn't have understood it then. I do now. They say maturity comes with age. Rightly so. I have still to meet vanity in her human form.