Gimme some Space, yaar!

My friend Shikha asked me something interesting today - "After the fight for oil, what could the next big fight be for?" I pondered over the query for a while. What indeed could scuffles and wars break out for? Nuclear weapons? The right to clone humans? The cure for AIDS? Or perhaps emissions regulation? I am no prophet; neither do I possess a whacky imagination that could spin tales to boggle rudimentary minds. I count myself amongst the latter lot - I am plagued by simpler ordeals that could very likely snowball into unmanageable complexities if gone unchecked. Like parking spaces, for instance (don't laugh). Since times immemorial, space has always been a subject of great dispute and minor powwows. Great, long wars were fought over land, spaces. Today, we are still battling it out for space - primarily for shelter, for that ground beneath our feet and the roof over our heads. But, also consider other trifles like the fight for space in the Great-Indian-queue, for that fourth seat on the Mumbai local train, for atleast a square centimeter on the board of the overcrowded-BEST bus, for a 2-second darshan at Siddhivinayak/ Tirupati temples, for a tiny area on the rocks at Bandstand on a Sunday evening etc. etc. The more creative ones will even demand 'space' in relationships (I never quite understood that phrase).

Judging by the sheer number of cars and other four-wheeled monsters that ply on our over-burdened roads, I will not be surprised if we soon run out of spaces for parking our four-wheeled indulgences. Not so long ago, I was walking through the upscale neighbourhood of Hill Road (perennially in a traffic jam) and was mildly amused to see several cars (each more ravishing and more expensive than the other) lined alongside the narrow streets. Most were parked bumper-to-bumper. I wonder how the drivers got them out. Parking lots in malls/theatres are filled within minutes on weekends. Even aircrafts circle the airport for hours, just for that elusive area to land. Such is the dearth of spaces in our city. The parking lot in a SoBo neighbourhood will make you poorer by anywhere between (hold-your-breath) Rs. 15-25 lakh!! Such preposterousness! One also witnesses brawls breaking out if someone else captures your parking space, even though legally - it ain't yours. The other day, Mom got ultra-defensive (and almost abusive) as a smartarse tried to sneak in his car while I was busy negotiating a turn into the narrow space between two cars! Tempers are already flying thick and fast over (hitherto) trivial things such as parking spaces! So much so that, ghar rahe ya na rahe, parking space toh hona hi chahiye!

It also doesn't help that every family these days preens about in more than one car. This has added severe pressure to the already-cracking infrastructure of the city. I see a day not so far away when our newspapers will flash the headline - Mr. Poonawaala wins the case against Mr. Jhunjhunwaala, thereby winning the right to park his Audi Q7 in the disputed area (which incidentally happens to be two kilometres away from his residence... since the building's parking lot already accomodates the very chap's 2 BMWs & 3 Lamborghinis)! Indeed, in the future, parking spaces are going to be much rarer commodities than housing spaces.

God save us all then.

Fine Dine Pantomime

(From Wikianswers)

Fine dining restaurants generally have the following services and requirements:

Dress Code: In most cases a fine dining restaurant will not permit jeans, t-shirts, hats and may even require a suit jacket and tie.

Service: The service at a fine dining restaurant will generally be top notch. Expect each table to have no less than two servers directly responsible for it and a Maitre 'D overseeing service.

Menu: The menu at fine dining restaurants tends to be extremely classy with high quality ingredients and prepared by a well-known and talented chef with years of industry experience.

Food: Top quality produce treated delicately with respect. Small portions paid with extreme details. Combining food and art concept together. Making food taste good and look good.

Price: Expect to pay a little (to substantially) more for the extra attention to detail. This could range from $30 per person to hundreds - depending on menu and wine selections.

Valet Parking: Many fine dining restaurants offer valet parking for their dining guests.

Reservations: You will likely need to book ahead of your dining experience to ensure you will have a table upon your arrival.

Whoaaaaa!! Such elaborate glitz over something as elementary as feeding a hungry stomach??

I don't understand 'Fine Dining'. I really don't. I also don't comprehend why such ado is made over the 'fine dining experience'. And why the ones who haven't been through this bothersome ordeal are looked upon as neanderthals or worse. No, I'm not writing this piece out of angst or contempt for having been given the bum's rush out of a swanky 5-star restaurant... instead, I have just observed those who 'fine dine' regularly & wax eloquent (not without the accompanying theatrics) about the whole blessed-event. You'd be forgiven to think they've been to paradise and back. I too have been to several swish hotels during my present work tenure. I was at the Leela recently, on a lunch-out with my office colleagues. But frankly, the food was dismal. First of all, the choice was limited. I am spoilt for more alternatives at the local Udupi restaurant. Then, I am forced to pick from some bizarrely-named offerings. They don't even bother to mention the ingredients. I might as well be eating sponge. On second thoughts, atleast it didn't make my throat feel soapy or bubbly. Small consolation that was. For the the food was not even hot. While I was painfully gulping down the chilly fare, my brain was wickedly propping up images of piping hot rotis (dipped in a bowl-full of ghee) I had at a roadside dhaba on the Delhi national highway 2 years back (Yumm!!!) Dessert was the only respite. But wait, that made us toil too. For each offering was in a bowl so tiny, I could play Barbie with it. Granted that dessert is not to be eaten in tubs, but atleast don't make me feel like I'm with Ken out-for-lunch!

Don't get me wrong, the ambiance at these hotels is fabulous. You've got colossal buildings adorned with the most expensive carpets, sculptures, antiques, chandeliers, artificial waterfalls and exotic furniture that money can buy. The inside of the hotel is a labyrinth in itself. Several rooms leading to other rooms. And each more beautiful than the previous. The valet salutes you, the doorman greets you (a man more than twice my age calls me 'Madam') and the waiters fuss over you. But isn't that all so superficial & hollow? Who knows, the doorman might personally think you're a grand old fart. Yet he salutes you, overpowered by the money jingling in your pocket. I say, cut all that jazz and bring on the food mate! That is what concerns me.... not if you call me Madam or not.

Maybe I'm just not hardwired that way - to appreciate the 'finer' details of life or to demand exclusivity. I have nothing against the suave, I'm-sure-they're-important lot who dash in and out of these hotels, shelling out ridiculous amounts of money on a simple lunch that can be had for under 100 bucks. Good for them. They see something I clearly don't. As for me, I'm dashing to my favorite panipuri-wallah tomorrow. His humble (and a thousand times tastier) dole-outs will receive maximum appreciation from me atleast!

You don't realize what you've got... until its gone!

Her absence is disquieting, the silence is deafening. Initially you hurrah her exit - finally you can do what you please - but it only takes a few lonely hours to snap out of your reverie, suddenly realizing there's pin-drop silence in the house. I don't like it. It renders me restless and cranky. Just like Kamal Hasan in that brilliant movie 'Pushpak' who couldn't sleep without the theatre's loud acoustics running in the background, I need Mom's voice ringing in my head, else it makes me uneasy - her rattling out a thousand instructions, yapping with the maid and relaying endless orders at the speed of 100 orders/min, talking loudly on the phone with her friends, yelling at me since I won't help her out in the kitchen, snapping at me coz I ate out again, complaining to me coz she fought with sis once more, emotionally blackmailing me to consider that 'perfect match' again..... I miss all that! In normal circumstances, I'd be mighty annoyed with her for being such a motormouth. But when she's away, even for a few days, she is sorely missed.

That brings me to a more important question - whatever am I going to do when I move away from home, from her? I realize I am SO dependent on Mom for so many things. Piping hot and lovingly prepared dinner is ready for me when I reach home from work, my bed is reset and my room is neat and in order. I am coerced to eat more, something that I would certainly give a miss when she's not around. A patient ear is also offered, which I gladly accept, in order to recount the day's highs and lows. But all this may very well come to an end. Soon I may have to be on my own. It frightens me to think of how I shall cope. The prospect of departing from under her wings is scary, yet unavoidable.

I don't know why I am missing her so dearly this time around. This is the perhaps the umpteenth time that I am alone at home while Mom has gone away for a while. Maybe its only normal. Or maybe its the looming near of that one important day in every girl's life. The day when she has to leave her home of 25-odd years and shift base to another. I wonder how Mom did it. Or any other woman for that matter. It is a terrifying thought. Maybe I should adopt Mr. Hasan's ways. A recorder will be of great service, for starters.

All Work, no Play

September has been pretty uneventful so far, which means I jabber a lot less on this over-worked page. Worked my arse off during the first half, following which I can now give a discourse on Swiss private banks and banking secrecy (provided anyone wants to hear it); cursed MTNL as they delivered poor triband service once again (they are so predictable! Of the 24 days in this month, I had access for only 5) and reached level 129 in Mafia Wars (ho-hum; yes, I am a sworn-addict!) . The only highlight was the arrival of my Macbook Pro. Yes, it is indeed everything it promises to be. And much more. Everything else (read Windows & desktop PCs) pales in comparison. Now only if I could replace the dabba PC at work with the Macbook, I would breeze through my assignments! Sigh.... if wishes were horses!!

Speaking of work, completed 2 years at Deutsche Bank now. Although it seems more morbid as I write it, the feeling is nothing of that sort. It seems like just yesterday when I stepped into the huge, imposing office - a nervous girl, full of apprehension of how things will turn out. It was only my first job. However, the experience has been fun, rewarding and I can confidently say, I am much wiser than the ignoramus I was 2 years back ;) Made some friends here, learnt a lot and generally kept myself away from office-politics and trouble (yes, I'm an insufferable bore). Not to mention, the paycheck I take home every month. That's the best and most fulfilling part of this job! Come to think of it, it is for any job!

It is only apt I upload some pics of work. Here they are, the second one was taken chupke se - it is strictly prohibited to take snaps of the office premises:

I know, I know - my desk's laden with girly stuff. But I like to come to an adorned desk every morning. Helps me cheer up! Oh, and everyone thinks its the neatest desk in the place. The Virgo (and OCD) in me is proud!

Its SO hard to click a picture of the office premises (this is only part of it)- what with Hitler-like security guards baying for any camera-click-happy enthusiast. But I managed to sneak out a quick snap anyway, when the guard was looking away!

PS: Now that I've waxed eloquent 'bout my work, can I get that raise please?

Living Dangerously

The sight was chilling. From the corner of my car's windshield, I saw the mangled remains of what was once a motorbike. The mishap must've occurred minutes before I reached the spot. Pieces of glass and metal were strewn everywhere. Somewhere under the mass of twisted metal lay a man, but only a bloodied arm was visible. It wasn't moving. My heart skipped a beat on watching the ghastly scene in front of me. The sight of blood - gushing out uninterrupted - was rather unsettling. While fervently wishing the driver had survived this terrible accident, several questions immediately popped in my mind - WHY do these bikers drive the way they do? WHY do they risk their lives by speeding like maniacs-on-wheels? WHY do they try to overtake the vehicle in front (from the left side) without giving any indication whatsoever, despite there being very little space to manoeuvre ? WHY do they zip past vehicles in rash zig-zags, with every turn potentially perilous enough to go horribly wrong? WHY do they drive inches close to the vehicle alongside - at risk of making contact with the vehicle any moment? WHY WHY WHY???

No doubt they are cheaper and more convenient than their larger four-wheeled counterparts, but I personally feel two-wheelers are the most dangerous inventions ever created for roads. The entire concept is based on balancing a vehicle that is probably 4 times heavier than you are! At blazing speeds, the slightest contact with another vehicle or a minor oil-spill on the road is enough to render the bike to turn turtle and the cause immense injury, even death. Several lives and limbs are being lost due to such mishaps everyday. Bikes are extremely unsafe and hazardous modes of transport and sureshot disasters-waiting-to-happen for the more reckless lot of drivers.

That one unfortunate sight was enough to make me swear off motorbikes or any other biped. It may not for the others, the ones who live life on the edge, who think they can get away with such brash daredevilry. However, today I make a heartfelt plea to all such motorists - please DO NOT drive amok like someone possessed. Whatever it is that requires your attention - be it at home or work - it is NOT worth your life. Neither does whizzing about at top speeds render you a heartthrob of your locality/city/nation. Live a little less dangerously. Value your lives. We all have short ones anyway.

On a lighter note - here is a bumper sticker (crude painting, rather) that I spotted on a rickety tempo plying the roads. Now if only all of us could adopt this chap's spirits!

The wise words: मालिक का दौलत, ड्राईवर का पसीना - रोड पे चलती है बनके हसीना! (LOL!)