Coming Up Next...

This is a 46-second video shot at Bada Pani (literally, Big Water) in Shillong, Meghalaya, at 6:04 a.m. on October 10. There's nothing here that you won't see - in versions multiple times better -  on the website of a travel magazine or even a professional photographer, but it is 46 seconds out of the most beautiful, peaceful five minutes I have ever known.

I was in Shillong recently for work. I went via Guwahati. I couldn't have been happier, or more thrilled. The trip itself was wonderful, but coming, as it did, on the heels of some extensive travelling, and preceding an unexpected trip to Mumbai, it was extra-special. :)

I am missing Delhi and I have so much to tell you about all the travel and life in general...but first, I have an overflowing laundry hamper and a generally untidy apartment demanding my attention rather categorically. Ciao!

Pet Peeves - I

Hey, don't judge me already...I know it isn't good to whinge, but didn't someone say it's healthy to vent? Here goes.

1. Ok, this is a sidewalk. You are walking ahead of me. You are not elderly, not limping, not carrying a sack of flour...and because you're laughing and making fun conversation on the phone or with your equally happy, healthy, burden-free friend, I can see that nothing's got you down either. How about walking a little faster, or at least moving to one side so that you can make way for those of us who need to get someplace in under four hours?

2. I am on the phone. You, at present, are not. Also, you know I am on the phone, because you are seated two feet from me, and can see me as clearly as figs are figs. If it isn't an issue relating to personal, organizational, societal, national or global security, or a moral conundrum that needs immediate resolution, could you please postpone the conversation you insist on having with me, there and then, to after I'm done on the phone? Especially if it's a conversation you chose to start even though you saw me on the phone...and after you shook your head when I put the caller on hold and politely asked you if I could get back to you in five minutes if it wasn't too urgent? And if there's something you have to tell the person I'm speaking to, I'll be more than happy to pass the phone to you, you know. You only need ask, or even gesture. You don't necessarily have to ask me to "tell him this...and that...and the other as well, please...and what did he have to say about that?" The only conversation I can conduct parallel to the one I am already having with the person in front of me (or on the phone), is the one with myself in my head. I have many skills, but having simultaneous conversations with two human beings on two different issues isn't one of them.

I'm tired. I'm going to bed. More later. I'll add a 'Part-I' to the heading.

The Calcutta Diaries - II: Living Alone, and Loving It

Leaving home for college at eighteen was...well, let's call it a mixed experience. I'd led a happy, sheltered life up to then, and while I was absolutely thrilled at the prospect of exploring life and learning to survive, I was still a little scared, deep down.

Eight years later, I'm confident I can start calling any place home within three hours of arriving there. By the time I've had my first breakfast, I'm fairly settled in - and once I discover the closest place toothpaste is available, and locate the nearest post office, I am officially set. 

But this place I live in here at Cal is, by far, the place I love the most, and will miss the most terribly when I move out. Actually, scratch that. I know Rez is irreplaceable in my memories and my personality. Gurgaon was indispensable, and 32 U.B. brought in something no other place can. But this apartment, here in Ballygunge, is the first place that is entirely my own. It is all mine to do up, the walls and spaces are mine to clutter and declutter as I see fit...and once I shut the door after stepping in from work, it's my safe little cocoon that no one can enter without my express permission; a happy little bubble to float around in till it is time to go back to work. It's bright, happy, kitschy where I want it to be, with lots of space and sunshine and fresh air. There's greenery right outside my window, and I am actually awoken by a shaft of sunlight falling on my face every morning. If I slide the windows open, my curtains billow in the breeze...sometimes, when I've pulled an all-nighter and dawn breaks in, pink and golden, through the cracks in my curtains - or when I can see rain in the golden light of a streetlamp, and feel warm and cosy in my little house - I feel so physically full of contentment and happiness, my heart could explode.

I do the sweeping and mopping, I cook my own meals, fetch my own groceries and do my own laundry. I patiently lodge multiple complaints when the AC or the water purifier goes bust, I replace my own bulbs, I defrost my own refrigerator, and I negotiate with the plumber or the electrician because replacing a faulty plastic tube cannot possibly, reasonably, cost 700 bucks. I've learnt to keep candles and matches where they can be reached easily in the dark; and, even if I say so myself, I've elevated inventorying the contents of the fridge to minimize wastage, to a fine art. I'm crazy house-proud and have been known to politely ask friends to reschedule their visit because the flat is untidy. I can look at a shirt or dupatta and tell you whether to use Surf or Ezee, or baby shampoo; I can also starch clothes to perfection. I can multitask three ways to Sunday - cutting up craftpaper and fooling around with glitter while watching TV and keeping an eye on the saucepan as well as the two new shirts I am soaking together for the first time. These are things that I take as much pride in as I do in my achievements as a student and a professional...more pride, sometimes, because these are things that make me happy. Frequently, they act as stressbusters after a day doing something I am not always excited about. Always, but always, they make everything else I do, worthwhile. You've got to experience it yourself to know what I'm saying. Nothing chases work-induced exhaustion away like coming home to a laundry hamper that's empty because you took care of it yesterday, or a meal sitting in your refrigerator, just waiting to be microwaved, with an additional stir-fry on the side if you're up to it. Independent as I felt during college, and even when I received my first paycheck, nothing beats the high and the sense of self-sufficiency actually - physically - being able to look after yourself gives you.

Does this mean I am a domestic goddess? Far from it. I screw up more often than anyone I know. I guess it's a domestic occupational hazard.

So these are the things I have learnt, mostly the hard way. For those of us who live alone and manage our own houses, these should point you in the right direction.

 - Never step into your white-tiled bathroom in your sneakers, just to retrieve the scrunchie you left on the shelf. It is far easier to remove your shoes and put them back on, than to scrub grime and mud off the tiles later. Been there, done that. Believe me.

- Always keep a tube of quick-fix glue handy. You have no idea what a gigantic sense of security it gives you.

 - Keep Post-Its within easy reach, unless you do not mind running down to the store fourteen times a day.

 - Put your house keys wherever they're supposed to be as soon as you enter. I cannot say this enough. When you live alone, there's no one else to go ballistic over for misplaced keys.

My books! Well, at least the ones that I have not sent back home in three instalments because I had very little room here. I have a huge pile of these just waiting to be read.

I Cook!

As a stressbuster, cooking ranks right up there with clearing and sorting desks and drawers for me. Sure, there I days when I come back so late, so irritated with the world, and so exhausted, that the idea of standing by the hot plate or the microwave is practically loathsome. And sure, more often than not, I make errors of judgment in ingredients and measurements and cooking time, and the end result is just about edible, if that. But I also know that if I can only drag myself away from the comfort of my futon and into the kitchen, I will invariably come out a lot calmer and happier than I went in, even if the original idea for dinner landed in the trash (quite literally), and I've had to resort to milk and toast and apples. It's just that it is incredibly liberating to be able to turn raw material (again, literally), into a meal, and to call it your own. It feels so, so good. And when a cake is in the oven, or vegetables are cooking in a saucepan, the aroma is heavenly, homely, and therapeutic.

I try new recipes off the 'net, from cookbooks that came with ovens and stoves...even some outlandish combination that I've thought up at work. I seldom, if ever, follow measurements to the T - and that has often proved my - and my dish's - undoing. But like in everything else, my gut likes to take over, so I let it. 

I'm good with a knife and chopping board - and not too bad at kneading and whipping. What I am a basket case in, is knowing when something is done. More often than not, I overcook my food. My pasta dissolves into a mushy mess because I boil the bejesus out of it. My oats melt into an unrecognisable mass because I cook the living daylights out of them. And when I simply mean to saute my greens and carrots, I end up boiling them (no, don't even ask). I cut cauliflower into neat little florets and dice my potatoes just so...but then I poke them so enthusiastically with my spatula when they're cooking, my curry looks very sorry for itself by the end of it all. I roll perfectly round rotis, but they're not always perfectly even, which means they cook unevenly...which means little patches of dough show up in the final product. And, heaven knows how, I always burn the bottom of the pan I boil milk in - and then spend the better part of an hour scrubbing the pan in the sink.

So, yeah, it isn't always perfect, or even easy. Sometimes, it gets lonely, this living all alone, doing everything on your own. Sometimes, at the end of a bad day, when your upma is a watery mess, your clothes won't fit into your laundry hamper because it is already overflowing, and the cable is kaput because you forgot the DTH recharge, all you want to do is yell into the walls. But then, when you love your house, it loves you back, and being loved is an amazing feeling. It may not chase away the blues, but it makes them easier to deal with. And that is a wonderful thing.

tHinkeR aloud

Back in the day, I'd usually take everything at face value. It saves time. I still believe that...but it has also become second nature to me to re-evaluate everything I hear for "deeper" intent or implication. Sometimes, I read between lines that are not even there, to begin with.

That's just one of the changes that being an HR professional has brought in me. I'm hoping it is particular only to the field, and that I will grow out of it when I move on, because I sure as hell do not like it.

I wouldn't call myself naive, or even optimally street-smart. I'm just someone with too many things on her bucket list. Ergo, there isn't ever enough time to delve into hidden meanings in what people say, or to make murtabak of my own intent. If you're someone I care about, and have chosen, for some reason, not to be direct, I'll back off and wait till you're comfortable talking. And you'll know where to find me when you are, because you're that important. But if we're simply getting business done in as cordial a manner as possible, don't you think we'll all save time if we say what we have to, and get going?

But as I was saying, taking things to mean what they sound like is a luxury you're denied in Human Resources. Whether it is an investigation, an interview or the usual 9-in-the-morning meeting, you're conditioned - without knowing it - into evaluating everything at three levels, at least, before responding to it. And the funniest thing is, all this processing happens in real time, in the blink of an eye, and you tailor your response to give it the suitable degree of ambiguity.

The other change HR has brought in me is pretend-patience. I wish I could say being an HR manager has made me a more patient human being, but that would be a lie. I'm still, essentially, as (im)patient as I was the first 20-odd years of my life. Professionalism demands that you exercise a fair degree of forbearance, however, and in Human Resources it is a cardinal rule. I'm happy to comply, because if I'm going to work in a professional set-up, it is only fair that I play by the rules. But this thinking aloud isn't about mandatory patience - it is about how I follow the mandate. And much as I tried to use this as an opportunity to do away with the short fuse, all I've succeeded in doing is not flying off the handle at the drop of a hat.

Lest this post sound like a cribfest about HR, let me bring in what may qualify as compensation. I wouldn't go so far as to call it the upside - because it isn't - but it could try for that label, and I wouldn't discourage it right away. Being in Human Resources introduces you to a whole variety of people - each of whom brings in a whole variety of quirks - you wouldn't have met ordinarily. A lot of it has to do with the fact that, as an HR manager, you meet anywhere between thirty to three thousand colleagues a day, and as many as 20 new faces in a standard day of recruitment interviews. Some of it also has to do with how people generally perceive the HR department, and how that perception affects behaviour that is already unique by virtue of being human.

Not complete, this post, so I'll come back later and write more. Till then, wish me luck. I have behavioural event interviews coming up, and I'm really not looking forward to them.

Image courtesy Google Images

The Calcutta Diaries - I: Show and Tell

So, this is a post that's been waiting for months to make it from my head to this page. I've been in this quirky, comfortable city for about 14 months now - called it home, settled into it...I'm even planning my move out of it and what I do here, and I still don't have anything concrete about it on the Wall. That's patently unfair to a place and time that has been very good to me, all things considered.

If you're an old friend I know - or am still a stranger to - you'd have noticed that there haven't been too many posts on the Wall in the last year. Get out of the way, 72-hour workweeks, protracted projects and mind-numbing fatigue...I'm back, World!

So we'll pick up right where we left off. I'll start by showing you around.

I've been in Kolkata for over a year now. I stay in Ballygunge, which is in South Kolkata. It's beautiful and green and mostly peaceful. Sure, that traffic gets maddening on Syed Amir Ali Avenue sometimes, but because I stay at a 15 minutes' walk from where I work, life's pretty good.

Because it's show and tell, I'll let these do the rest of the talking today:

That's a rare picture - because Gurusaday Road (where the office is located) is seldom this uncluttered. And because this picture's been taken at 5:30 pm on a non-Sunday, at which time I am almost never not closeted in my office, recruiting for a living. Don't miss the yellow taxi - it is quintessentially Calcuttan. It'll make several appearances in my pictures and stories because it is a fixture character in its own right in these chronicles. Hell, the city itself is a whole personality on its own.

This is classic-8 a.m.-Syed Amir Ali Avenue. If I wake up early enough (read 4:30 a.m.), this is where I head for my jog. Between 6:30 and midnight, though, it's easier to be a pedestrian here. No, scratch that. I waited 15 minutes for the signal to change on my way back this evening. Picture's from inside a yellow taxi, of course.

The iconic Birla Temple. Quite the landmark in Ballygunge. It's perfect for breezy evenings. I'm not as frequent a visitor as I'd like to be, but something about it is reassuring...basically, I am just glad it is where it is, if you know what I mean. I really should get a better picture, though. Trouble is, you're going to have to stand in the middle of the road to get the best view, and given that the road is Syed Amir Ali Avenue...

This photo's special because it was taken the morning the monsoons broke in Cal after a long, really muggy summer. At 6, the famous Calcutta humidity was at its most unbearable. Somewhere between then and 8 a.m., the rain gods decided to smile. And how! Also, there's a lot in these pictures that is typically, uniquely Calcutta - look closely and you'll see a hand-pulled rickshaw resting on the pavement, and Communist graffiti right behind it. And, of course, the yellow taxi (fine, I'll be shutting up about those now :) ).

Two days ago, the rains were extra kind. At 4:15 in the afternoon, this is what it looked like right outside my office.

And now, for my flat.

I adore my flat. Period. I've literally never loved any place I've stayed in so much - and I've had over 10 addresses in the last 8 years, so that's saying something.

I had family over for breakfast one Sunday. This is them, in my living room. I cannot say this enough - I love my flat to bits! Just the mention of it makes me smile. :) :) :)

That's one end of my room. It's where I crash at the end of the day. It's warm, safe, cosy...and all mine. :)

My favourite nook in a house I love every inch of. Family pictures, pens and Post-Its within easy-to-grab range, keepsakes, my books, stuff I do not leave home without, junk jewellery...you name it.

That still leaves the kitchen, but I'll tell you about that later, because I think I have a whole series' worth of food-and-cooking-related posts brewing somewhere in my head.

So that was the introductory post. I have so much more to tell you. I'll be back in a blink. Know, till then, that returning to you and my blog is about the best thing to have happened to me all year. :)

So long. Bhalo theko.

The Effect

It's raining again this afternoon. A rainy afternoon in June. Warm, golden weather, laden with droplets that are still making their minds up. Tentative, pensive weather that reminds me of walks, naps and conversations I'd rather keep stowed away, if only because they are too precious to handle again and again. I wish I could turn back time. Because then, I would know.

The Promise

I will be back soon, I promise. I won't let this page go dusty and neglected.

I promise!

The Assortment

1. No post on New Year's Eve...or before that, or after it...what's my world coming to??

2. Redressal is, therefore, priority.

3. I'm a light traveller. Actually, it's probably more accurate to say that I travel light when I have the choice. Goes without saying that visits home with bags and bags of shopping, do not count. I can manage trips up to a week long with one bag's worth of packing, thank you very much. Light travelling is also true of me metaphorically...but much as I'd like this point to take on a deep philosophical hue, I've got to admit I was thinking more about trips hither and thither.

4. If you give a new city the chance, it's pretty exciting watching it trying to woo you little by little. You'll have to meet it halfway, though, else you'll never befriend it.

5. Christmas on Park Street - be there to believe it.

6. I have newfound respect - and love - for the break of day. More on it later.

7. New Year resolution - more time together, my blog and I.

I'll see you on the other side of the weekend, then? :)

Love, always,
Crossworder