Best Served Cold

She turned her tear streaked face to find a dry spot on the already wet pillow.  She had lost track of the hours gone by since the waterfall began. Despite her head feeling like a lead ball that was being pounded by a hammer, a strange sense of calm floated through her. But in the next second that she thought about it, the torrent resumed itself, and she let go of herself again.

When she had exhausted her tears, there seemed nothing else to do but think. Why, she thought, why did it all go wrong? Why did everything fall apart? Was there anything she could have done? Should she have seen it coming? Was she so absorbed being happy in her little shell that she was blind to the real world?

But wait, maybe the signs were all there, yet she chose to look away. The bliss of feigning ignorance was a far easier burden to bear than the harsh rock of truth.  How could she have been so naïve? To think that it would last, that there could be someone who would want it to last. Just like she did.

It had been like a dream, one that she could not believe was coming true in the beginning. Building castles in the air that she hoped would one day find a foundation. Then the cracks, which she did not see at first, then did not want to see.  As hard as she tried to fill them, the cracks widened, till the time came to acknowledge them. What she saw filled her with a storm of emotions. Anger, despair and hatred fought to consume her. When the anger abated, doubt and shame took its place.

She spent hours berating herself for being where she was. If only she had not let herself be washed away in the love that she thought was real. The love that was all enveloping, that clouded the world around her, as if it had fuzzy edges. Most importantly, the love that she was sure, oh so sure would last. If it was everything that she thought it was, why was she betrayed? What sea change happened that caused him to seek the same love elsewhere?

Her tortured thoughts churned inside her like a flooding river, roiling and raging. There was no respite, no peace. She might be broken and damaged, but she had been raised to be strong willed, to let nothing rattle her. Her spirit was wounded, sure, but it would heal. All she wanted at the moment was something to dull the pain, something that would quell the fury swirling inside her. A bottle of wine all by herself on the couch sounded inviting, but the prospect of nursing a hangover the next day quickly put that plan to rest.

She searched her mind for all the possibilities. There was one that caught her fancy, but her conscience kept pushing it back. She was not usually the vindictive kind, and she did not want to add guilt to her palette of emotions. As the debate raged on her in her head, her resolve began to crack, until finally she gave in.

Checking the time, she mentally went through his schedule to confirm his whereabouts. Picking up her keys, she shut the door behind her and got into the car.  She drove in no hurry, knowing he would not be leaving for a while. As she parked the car, she sat still for a moment to rethink her choice. Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car, and headed into the building.

She took the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. As the elevator door opened, she spotted him in his glass walled cubicle. With her. The sight chilled her blood, and a new wave of anger swept over her. Now more determined than ever, she brazenly walked up to his door and swung it wide open. The two of them looked up. Their eyes widened in shock, rightly so; she looked like a train wreck, with her swollen face and  disheveled appearance.

She made no move but to stand at the door. Recovering from his shock a little, he stood up from his desk and began to walk toward her, demanding why she had come there.  Everything leading to that moment seemed as if in slow motion. It seemed her emotions had taken control of her, as if she was seeing all of it unfold from outside her body. She saw her hand ball into a fist, and watched him near her. As he came within inches of her, she lifted her fist, and struck his face a blow that was powered by all the turmoil she had been through.  His face recoiled from the impact, and a trickle of blood leaked from his nose. A sense of satisfaction spread through her, warming her from head to toe. While he reached a hand to his now shattered nose, his face a bloody picture of astonishment and pain, she turned on her heel and calmly walked out.

As she nursed her sore and grazed knuckles in the car, she smiled to herself for the first time in days. Vengeance was indeed sweet.

Bouts of Hyd-sickness

When I think about it, my heart will always belong to Hyderabad. I might not have been born there, but I did spend most of my life breathing in its dust, and the smell of the Hussainsagar is ingrained in my olfactory cells, like that of any Hyderabadi.

I can’t say I’m a true Hyderabadi, simply because I’ve never indulged in what my city is famous for: the biryani. The famous biryani that has people packaging it to their own cities, and vehemently declaring that they could kill for it.

Now, 8000 miles away from my beloved city, there are some things about it that I sorely miss, and am sometimes almost reduced to tears thinking of.

• Purple tongue causing Kala khatta ice gola (usually 2 of them) at the stand outside MPM mall in Abids, Oh-My-Godddd!

• Mouthwatering chaat of all kinds at the crowded and dinghy Gokul Chat in Koti, mmm!

• Ganne ka ras (Sugarcane juice) at the “clean” (certified by my mother after rejecting various others) bandi in Punjagutta, which I visit every time I’m home.

• Mushroom pizza for 45 rupees at the new and improved Karachi Bakery after a Sunday shopping session. The shortest route to contentment.

• Shopping on Sundays for second hand books in Abids, and cooling off with 1 and/or 4.

• Malai lassi at Agra Wala’s. Kill me!

• Walking, rather being carried in thaatha’s arms to Reddy’s General store to buy my daily pack of Gems (when I was 2 years old).

• Paneer puff at the bakery next to Pinakini. 8 rupees, and filled with lots of spinach and sometimes old and hard paneer. But after 8 hours of class, tasted like heaven!

• Random local bakery pizza, the kind with Amul cheese and a hint of ginger. On some days (read short of money), it’s so much better than anything at Domino’s or Pizza Hut.

• Speaking of, Pizza Hut in Hyderabad Central, or Domino’s in Somajiguda.

•  One of my summer favorites: Coconut water from some bandi, usually without the white pulp. Yum!

•  Country Oven. Need I say more?

• Traipsing the aisles of Lifestyle back when it was still fun and the prices were not as high as the roof.

•  2 sticks of Max orange ice candy when walking the length of Necklace Road on Sunday with my parents.

•  The first mukkabutta (corn roasted on coals and smothered with lime and salt and chilli) after the season begins.

•  Laden with filled shopping bags in Begum Bazaar, wending our way through the extremely narrow, crowded roads, where autorickshaws and scooters jostle with cars and pedestrians for space.

•  Bakers’ Inn. For me, India trip = at least one visit here. I have to eat a chocolate tart and a cheese tart, come rain or shine or the apocalypse.

•  These days, McDonalds, for practically everything on the menu!! The one at the bottom of the City Centre Mall is the one I am partial to.

•  Chocolate almond praline ice cream at the Baskin Robbins in the lobby of City Centre, even though it burns a hole in my pocket.

•  For anyone who knows me well enough, browsing the local stationery store in my quest to find the pen that works perfectly for me.
•  Spending 4 hours in Walden to buy supplies for my next craft project (read birthday card/scrapbook for someone).
•  Going with Thaatha to Food World with one of Paati’s long shopping lists and ending up eating junk food at the little cart outside it.
• Rasgulla from Pulla Reddy! Sugary goodness galore!
• Oh god, how could I forget! The Industrial exhibition that comes every year. Eating ginormous curry puffs dipped in sauce, flavored milk (my mom’s favorite), masala popcorn, Gobi 65, Bhel Puri, Fried Paneer, and of course topping it all off by sticking my face into a giant wad of cotton candy and getting Appa to wipe off the stickiness with his pristine handkerchief! Needless to say, all the rides, and the random shopping that my parents indulge in.
•  Shilparamam. Walking through all the stalls, buying absolutely random jewellery, chappals, tote bags and what not. These days it’s usually trying to find presents to bring back to the US.
•  Gujarati thaali in summer at the small place in Secunderabad where they serve the softest pooris with the most delectable aam-ras, with unlimited refills to boot!

Well, those were the things I could think of at the moment, all random, but things I have loved doing as a child, and things I still try and accomplish whenever I’m home.

I ♥ Hyderabad. Sigh!

Rants of a Research Tech

It’s one of those days, when the advisor is not around, and the workload is not insurmountable.  While waiting for the gel to be cast and the samples to thaw, I ponder what keeps me oscillating between optimism and pessimism, hope and desperation.

Is my work worth all the trouble I go through? As far as I have gleaned from working so far, what I do is akin to being on the lowest rung of the research fraternity. There is no great recognition that you get from it (not that I’m looking for any), some satisfaction when an experiment goes well, a lot of frustration when things don’t go right, the stress of working for someone, because research is so fickle, and a day that looks like it might go well will suddenly turn on you.

8 hours a day of labour and toil (almost literally), along with the mundane tasks that one has to do as part of the job makes me on some days want to pull out my hair and run home and jump onto a pillow and cry my eyes out. Or wishful thinking sets in, and I ponder what I could have been doing. Go back to school and do a PhD, and then 5 minutes later, I figure maybe not. Marry someone and settle down. That might work, except that the rules in the US would prevent me from working on a different visa. Since I will never be a housewife, that plan goes down the toilet. The other fallback: Ma and Pa. I’m sure if I called them today and said I want to give all this up and come right back home, they would be the happiest people on the planet (although God knows how long the joy will last). But then, the I-want-to-be-independent streak wins, so that plan is also not a viable option.

Some days I wonder if seeing a better paycheck every month might make my job desirable. Don’t get me wrong, on some days I love my job. There are days when this question comes back to bug me, and when I think about the “summer of unemployment” and the part time job after that, I always realize that some pay is better than no pay at all. It might be a fleeting sensation, but when you see the paycheck in your account every 30^th of the month, there is this tiny spring of joy/contentment/pride that bubbles up for a bit, because this is money you earned, and now you have the sole right to squander it or save it, no questions asked.  Ah, Sweet independence.

Nevertheless, there are days where you wonder if all the grad school slogging, all the lab experience gained had any meaning, given what you do everyday. Welcome to the real world?

Envy is a sin. Of course, in a capitalist world, it would be a sin. I’m going to use being human as my pathetic excuse, but once in a while, it is very painful to see your peers earning boatloads of money and displaying their affluence on all the social networking forums you all belong to. You sit on the couch and gaze at the tv screen wondering if a day will magically arrive when the tiny television set will be replaced by a plasma tv. Not that I even watch it.  It’s just that twang of materialism that exists during this phase of earning a living and what not. We’ve all been raised in a society where your standing is usually determined by your work and your pay, etc. So yes, there are days when I feel very inadequate about my work and pay.

Those are usually the whine days. There are those days where the philosopher in me awakens, and after a great deal of introspection, I come to the wonderful realization that I am much better off that I would have been if I had remained back home, working in that IT company I had a job in (my professor’s constant refrain about my uselessness completely put me off jobs in my own field), doing something I would have absolutely hated (I hate coding of ANY sort). After a point, I’d have gotten bored, or probably would have to settle down. It is so much easier to have your way when there are 8000 miles and a phone to separate you from the constant nagging of your extended family about being married and settling down. This way, I only have to deal with my darling parents, who over the last 3 years have not so much as raised their voices on the phone because they can’t bear to hear me cry.

Apologies for meandering. But yes, I now have two degrees behind my name. Hopefully I will get a third one, when I finally figure out a so called “career path”. I earn my own living, and it’s decent. I have my freedom, I can go and get ice cream at 10:30 PM without answering 20 questions about what, where, why, and are you insane?! I cook what I want, and I don’t cook when I don’t want to. Of course there will come a day when I have my own family, and I will do all the things expected of me then. But for now, I am very content living the single life. I have a wonderful roommate, who also happens to be my best friend. I’ve come to realize that there may not be anyone else on the planet I will take on as a roommate after her. I don’t come home to an empty house. And hey, I have a pretty nice house.  These are the I-could-not-be-happier days. As you might have guessed, they usually happen in the first week of a month, right after payday.

I don’t know if anyone else shares these views. These are completely my own, and they are here because my blog is rusting, and I wanted to whine. And because it is the only thing I can do. I don’t even know if anyone will read it. I think I’m done with the rant for now, I’m out of words, and I have to go unpack lab packages. I’ll be back another time, to whine or just write. Adios, until then.

The Second First

With all the recession, and the continual job application rejections, I find that I have a lot of time on my hands, despite some temporary employment in the offing.

The overwhelming amounts of idle time, both as a result of a lack of nothing to do, and because the increasing frustration leaves you not wanting to do anything, tends to lead to a lot of thought generation and processing. Most of these follow with a “I could blog this” afterthought, but sheer laziness prevents that from happening.

However, in an effort to keep up with my thoughts, I decided to start anew, with a new blog website that will inspire me to write down all those random thoughts that keep floating through my head. This blog is just a platform to catalogue my thoughts, it represents no leanings or beliefs, though it might be reflective of what I am going through or opinionating on. I am not a serious blogger, and don’t put out posts every week. I do it out of interest, and welcome any comments or feedback from the very few people who might read what I write. Criticism about what I blog on may not be appreciated if I am in a bad mood!

Adios amigos, for the moment! I shall return with more Nandyspeak soon!