A simple tale of a dimple

So it was one of my colleague's last day in the company on Friday. She was going around the whole office taking pictures with all of us.

Now here's the thing about me having my picture taken.

I always have the exact same reaction.

Step 1 - The moment the flash goes off, I get all fidgety, jump up and down and go, "SHOW ME!! SHOW ME!!"

Step 2 - I look at the photo, examine myself first, and then the others in the photo.

Step 3 - If I like myself in it, I say, "Email it to me, okay? Don't forget!" And I send a million reminder sms messages to the hapless person who took the photo but hasn't found time to email it yet.

Step 4 - If I hate myself in it, irrespective of how good the others look, I hold the camera gently, put on my most seductive/sweetest (depending on whether it's a guy or a girl) smile and whisper, "So which one's the 'delete' button?"

Step 5 - If Step 4 doesn't work, I bring the roof down. "Gosh, I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it! Delete it!!!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!" And I sulk until the photo is finally deleted.

Back to my story. So after my colleague set the timer, ran to pose with us, and the flash went off, I immediately went, "SHOW ME!! SHOW ME!!"

I looked at the photo. What was that??? I looked again. There it was!

The third colleague in the photo asked, "So how is it?"

"Oh my gawddd!" I exclaimed.

"What???"

"I HAVE A FREAKIN' DIMPLE???" I exclaimed.

Both of them started laughing uncontrollably.

I was amazed. For 25 freakin' years no one told me I had a dimple???? And how had I missed it, man? I guess because however whacko-nuts I am, I don't smile at myself in the mirror. (Actually, sometimes I do... hehe!) But how did I miss it in all the photos?? And dearest family and friends of mine, how come you guys never told me??? :O

All my life, I had wanted a dimple. Not the Preity Zinta's in-your-face kinds (ok ok chill now, guys, don't shoot me down!), but the 'subtly-appears-only-when-you-smile' kind. I had even thought of putting it down in my next life's must-have list.

But there it was. In this very life. The dimple I'd always wanted.

I'm still reeling from the surprise.

Just when you think you know yourself fully, a dimple slaps you on the cheek.

Lesson learnt -- What you'd always wanted was with you all this while, you just did not notice it.

Nick of time

Yesterday, my secondary school Chemistry teacher sent me a 'Happy New Year' sms. I decided to save his number under the nickname we had for him in school.

And that brought back memories.

You know how when you're in school, you have that one teacher who's like your friend? He knows who has a crush on whom in the class, he knows who are the 'couples' in the class, he talks to you about the guy/girl you secretly like, he gossips with you, he gets you out of trouble. In short, he's teacher and friend rolled into one.

My Chemistry teacher was like that. My best friend R (ah the days of childhood when we had that one person we used to use the term 'best friend' for!) and I would hang out in the Chemistry lab during recess, or during the Games class when it was too hot to play, and help him prepare and refill the chemicals in the jars. He only trusted R and me with his precious chemicals, because the guys used to interchange the solutions in the jars (dangerous, I know!) Like there was this guy who poured out all the sulphuric acid and refilled the bottle with water, and so our salt analysis experiments did not work and our teacher went nuts. So R and I would help him with the chemicals and carry on with our noisy chatter.

"You know Sir, Phytoplankton can be so khadoos at times! Do you know he had a surprise test this morning?? Offo!" I'd say as I poured the acetone.

And he'd ask, "Ok wait wait! Which one is Phytoplanton now?"

"Offo Sir, you keep forgetting everything! You should make a list of the nicknames we have given all the teachers so our conversations would be smoother."

"Sayesha, R, tell me something."

"Yeah!"

"What's my nickname?"

"Yours?? Yours??" We fumbled for words. We did have a nick for him, but we were not gonna tell him!

"Yeah, I'm sure you guys have one for me. Is it 'Suphuric acid' or something like that?" He grinned.

"Uhhh... that's the bell. We have to go, Sir. BYEEEE!"

"Hey... wait wait... what about my nickname?"

"That was close! Phew!" R said to me.

"I think he's gonna have sleepless nights thinking about what his nickname is!" I said.

It was true. He was really curious, and he wouldn't give up. He caught us again. He sent for us in one of the free lessons (when a teacher is absent, and a replacement is sent to just keep the class quiet, but you can do anything you want).

"Darn!" R and I said.

"Hello, Sayesha. Hello, R!" He greeted us.

"Hello, Sir."

"Look what I've got for you!" He pulled out two Kit-Kats from his desk drawer.

"Sheesh, R! I knew we should not have told me that we are easily bribed with Kit Kat! We should have never told him the inside stuff!"

"Look, I'm your friend, aren't I? I think you can tell me my own nickname!" Emotional blackmail at its best.

R and I had a hurried conversation in whispers.

"Argh! Now what do we do? Should we tell him?"

"But he's gonna get all upset!"

"But he wants to know!"

"Ok fine!"

"Sir, your nickname is Chemu (pronounced kay-moo)." We broke the news to him.

"Chemu????"

"Yeah, chemu."

"That's it???"

"Yeah...You don't like it?"

"Chemu? Chemu?? How come the others have such long and fancy nicknames like Monocotyledon, Bhartrihari and Phytoplankton? Mine is just Chemu? Chemu???" He looked distraught.

"Sorry, Sir..." We hung our heads.

"Hmmm... okay.. it's okay... go now..." He looked heart-broken.

We scurried out of the lab.

After this, every time we saw him, he gave us that look of utter disappointment. As if we had let him down. R and I stopped going to the lab to help with the chemicals.

Sheesh. One good friendship down the drain just because the nickname was too disappointing.

===============================================================

Since we're on the topic of nicknames, I am gonna heed to American Pie's suggestion of listing down nicknames that people have given me.

Nickname: Bhai
Given by: My gang in school
The story behind the nick:
Ok fine, I ran a gang in school. It was awesome. I felt so powerful and majestic when all the guys in my class called me 'Bhai'.
(The girls could not be bothered. But they did wonder why I was so happy about being addressed as 'Bhai'. Hmmmph! Bimbos!)

"Bhai, help me with this question!"
"Bhai, can I have a bite of your lunch?"
"Bhai, the 12th std guys seem to have a problem with us."

Nickname: Queen
Given by: My grandma
The story behind the nick:
My grandma named me 'queen' cos... well, I suppose she thinks I rule! Hahaha! She has a nickname for each of her 15 grandchildren. She pronounces mine as 'ku-in' which I find rather cute.

Nickname: Jhatakmani
Given by: Ultra-creative pundit who prepared my janam patri
The story behind the nick:
STOP LAUGHING. NOW. Now this one's interesting. Apparently, this is my janam patri name. Yeah, apparently everyone has a janam patri name given to you by the pundit who prepares your janam patri. And the names are usually horrendous. So stop laughing and go find out yours. You'll laugh more!

This was the only thing my Mom would disclose about my janam patri. She refuses to let me look at it, because apparently it states the date and time of my death.

So when my cousin Sid (yeah, the same evil one) found out about my name, he was thrilled beyond words to have a weapon which he could use to bug the hell outta me anytime.

"Jhatakmani ke jhatakne se lagte hain jhatke!" he'd say on the lines of Hera Pheri's "Khadag Singh ke khadakne se khadakti hain khidkiyan!"

"Thou shalt not kill. Thou shalt not kill." I had to repeat to myself several times.

Nickname: Man-eater
Given by: Guys in my class
The story behind the nick:
The teachers figured that the only way they could control and discipline the hyperactive Sayesha was to make her the class monitor. And during the free lessons, I was supposed to walk around the class and ensure that everyone was quiet and working. And they had to say things like "Monitor, may I go to the toilet?" I think I made a fierce monitor because the guys used to say, "Man-eater, may I go to the toilet?"

Nickname: Sash
Given by: Can't remember who came up with it but ROS, Harshi, Chints and Vikram use it.
The story behind the nick:
Simple story, short for Sayesha.

Nickname: Sasha
Given by: Fao et al
The story behind the nick:
Same as above

Nickname: Mayawati Mangeshkar
Given by: American Pie
The story behind the nick:
This dude loves to give people nicknames, especially those with alliteration. I know the Mangeshkar part is because I sing (I mean, I used to), but I can't remember what the Mayawati is for. Perhaps he can enlighten us? :)

Nickname: Jharkhandi Jhansi
Given by: Who else? American Pie again!
The story behind the nick:
It's obvious, isn't it?

Nickname: Pink
Given by: My good friend The Sinnerman
The story behind the nick:
I went to Kuala Lumpur on a trip with him, and he thought I wore too much pink. He even made me hold a pink stuffed toy and pink candy floss outside a pink shop called 'Girls' (Sayesha rolls her eyes!) and pose for pictures! The things you have to do to amuse a friend who's going away to a whole other country! Sheesh! He even had my number saved on his phone as 'Pink'. Now every time I see anything overly pink, I miss him. :(

Nickname: Sandy horse
Given by: My ex-boss who was trying to find the Chinese transliteration of my name
The story behind the nick:
Apparently, the Chinese transliteration of my name has the words horse, mud and sand. In fact, there was this time, I used to sign off as 'Horse on the beach' or 'Sandy horse' in my emails to her.

Nickname: Princess
Given by: My good friend Starbreez
The story behind the nick:
The name Sayesha means princess of hearts/attained by great desire. She has even linked me on her blog as 'The Princess'.

Nickname: CS (Cruel Sayesha)
Given by: Ze Exaggeratorr (also known as 'Chapaat')
The story behind the nick:
He likes to call me CS, because he feels I'm cruel cos I always give him a chapaat every time I visit his blog. I even renamed him Ze Chapaat.
ps: I had my revenge by telling him that his girlfriend would be called chapaati. Hah!

Nickname: Kuku
Given by: Dad
The story behind the nick:
Dad's the only one who calls me by this nick. He has a similar one for my sis as well. When some of my friends heard him calling me that, they were tickled pink. "Cuckoo? That's so apt, Sayesha! You ARE a bit cuckoo!" Hmmph! It's Kuku dammit!


I think that's all the nicks I have for now. Will update if I remember any more.

What's your nickname for me? :)

Let’s break up, shall we?

Recently, a friend of mine and his girlfriend of many many years broke up. Out of the blue. And for a moment, it looked like they had no reason to break up. They loved each other very much, wanted the same things from life, were absolutely compatible, everyone around them thought that they were the perfect couple, their families had given their approval, they were gonna get married, there were no problems anywhere, when suddenly poof! They were not a couple anymore. They had decided to take a year off each other to figure out what was it that they really wanted from themselves. For themselves.

At times, it looked like they broke up for the heck of it. Yes, I was guilty of judging them too. But after mulling over it and going over the explanations, I think I finally get it.

I can safely say that it’s the most positive break-up I have ever witnessed. It was not one of those heart-breaking tragic breakups where either one or both involved stay in bed for days with a box of tissue and a tub of icecream. They continue to hang out the way they used to, they continue to be the best of friends. They just don’t know yet if they want to marry each other.

And it made me wonder -- whom do we want to end up with? Someone who makes us happy. Someone whom we can make happy. Someone who brings so many positive vibes into our life that it makes us want to make ourselves more worthy of them. Someone whose mere thoughts can bring a smile to our faces and make us feel fortunate that we have them in our lives.

However, sometimes, when you’ve been together for too long, you fail to see these things. The “togetherness” overpowers everything to a degree that you can’t see why you’re together in the first place. And that’s when you need to take a step back and really look at yourself and the other person. Is it really love that you guys share, or just the comfort of stability, history, of not wanting to risk anything else ‘cos you’ve ‘invested’ so much in the relationship?

As I had mentioned in one of my earlier posts, in DCH, when Rohit asks Shalini, “We love each other, that's why we're getting married. Isn't it, Shalini?"

And Akash says, "You should ask yourselves this question, not each other."

Maybe we should all ask ourselves. Do the Dil Chahta Hai test, close our eyes and really try and see whom we wanna be with. And know it before we get married. If there's a wee bit of a doubt, I'd say don't get married. Even if you can't be with guy Y, don't marry guy X because you can't be with guy Y. That's a bad reason to marry anyone, besides it being unfair to everyone involved. You’re better off not being married at all than being in a marriage of compromise or convenience.

The fear of being ‘trapped’ in the decision because everyone around us expects us to act in a certain way is very real. For all we know, we could be wanting to get married to the person we have been with for years and years, but as individuals, we want to be able to choose to get married and not take marriage as a natural progression of things.

Don’t marry someone because you have spent years together. Marry because you want to spend the rest of the years together.

Long courtships can become stable straight line graphs. Sometimes, a relationship is so stable that the stability actually works against it. It becomes stagnant and predictable. After all, girls will be girls. Every girl wants to be proposed to, wants to be surprised with the ring and the question. She needs to be asked, she needs to have the option to actually make a decision. Otherwise you’re just trudging along the straight line graph that goes on and on till you slam into a wall called marriage. A girl should not be pressured into a ‘As if I can say no now’ kinda ‘Yes’. She needs to have that freedom to actually consider the proposal and give her decision. Just as a guy should not do a ‘Like I can propose to someone else’ kind of proposal. He needs that freedom to think about whether she’s the one he really wants to propose to.

So maybe it’s good to break up for a while. To go your separate ways and sort out the ‘what ifs’ of life that we’ve been guilty of thinking about. What if I was with that guy I’d felt a real connection with? What if I was with the girl I broke up with? What if I was with that guy who never proposed? What if I’d been brave enough to ask that guy out whom I liked years ago? What if that girl did not have to move out of the country then? What if I did not have to leave the country then? What if there was something between him and me that both of us failed to recognise?

Marriage is the ultimate commitment. And we should not enter it with any ‘What ifs’. Before making the ultimate commitment, we’d better sort out everything within ourselves once and for all, so that they don’t interfere with the rest of our lives, and help us make a clear decision. In Salaam Namaste, Nick tells Ambar “You should give us a chance now, because years later, when you wake up next to a fat guy, you should not regret not giving us a chance.”

It’s so true. If you’re going to marry fat guy, you’d better be sure that either you give Nick and yourself a chance, or know for sure that you don’t even want to give Nick and yourself a chance. So that years later, you either wake up with Nick, or with fat guy (with the thought that you did give Nick and yourself a chance, and decided to be with fat guy) with no regrets. You need to have that control over the decision you made, and then stand by it. We wouldn’t want to put ourselves in a position where one fine day we wake up and say, “Why didn’t I do that?” We must be able to say, “I chose not to do that. I had the option, but I chose not to take it. And now I will stand by what I decided.”

‘I have no option’ is not an option. You always have an option. It just depends on how bad you want it.

So I say rip off that sticker off your forehead that says, “I’m SO taken!” Break up, take a dose of the single life, give yourself time that is fully yours. Think about yourself. Be a bit selfish. It can be quite a revelation.

And sometimes, such induced break-ups can also show us whether we really love that person. Sometimes we’re so close to a person that we don’t realise their importance, we take them for granted, we forget how special they are. That’s when we need to step back and see if we miss what we had, or whether we feel like we’re finally breathing. And that’s when we will know what we want to do. That’s when we will have the real option.

Of course, you may choose to end up with the same person you had the induced break up with, but at least you would have experienced the feeling of not having them in your life. You’d have known and understood all the reasons why you chose to be with them. And perhaps that’s when it’s time to make a fresh new start, renew your relationship, fall in love all over again. Bring it all back, the flutter of the heart, the glow on the face, the joyous aura, every beautiful thing you feel when you’re newly in love.

And when all doubts have left your mind, and you know for sure that that’s the person you want to choose to spend the rest of your life with, what are you waiting for?

Surprise her. Pop the question.

Syllabus covered!

Blogging and blog-reading is like a unique university module. There is a syllabus, but it's different for each student. There are valuable lessons blogging and blog-reading has in store for each student. Basically, whatever the student ends up learning constitutes his/her syllabus. (So the syllabus is actually released at the end of the course!)

Here's a list of valuable lessons I covered in my 'Blogging and blog-reading 101' syllabus for 2005.

• Just when you think life can't get better, you discover blogging and blog-reading.
• A blog can bring you a lot of joys you never thought you could have.
• When you start blogging about stuff, simple incidents are not so simple anymore. Every little thing has a meaning, an implication, a lesson.
• Your blog evolves with every post. Just like you do.
• Blogging and blog-reading can become an addiction, with its own withdrawal symptoms.
• A single post written by someone can change your life.
• Your friends can serve as the greatest motivation to keep the blog going. Thanks, Sinnerman, for your inspiring words "There's so much more you can do with your blog, Sayesha!" when I was writing meaningless posts like "I got up, went to work, came back, slept." Thanks, A and R, for telling me over dinner at that hawker centre in Siglap that night, "Sayesha, you should never ever stop blogging!"
  
• Your closest friends stop commenting on your blog after a while. But they're still reading. It's either that they feel lost in the crowd or they think "Apni hi Sayesha hai yaar, iske blog par kya comment karna." ("She's our own Sayesha. What's there to comment on her blog?")
• You can really connect with someone on blogsphere. And if that breaks, it hurts real bad. It's heart-breaking actually.
  
• Sometimes blog friends seem to become more significant than your other friends.
• It's through blogging that we can really see how hypocritical and imperfect we are
  
• People can get really bitchy on the blogsphere.
• One nasty comment can ruin your entire day. But only if you allow it to.
• Every stranger on the Internet is not a creep.
  
• There are creeps on the Internet though.
• Don't let bludgers (those who have grudges against you or your blog) bug you. Bludgers are buggers who bludgeon your blog. (Wah, cool tongue-twister, eh?)
• I know a bludger who dislikes me thoroughly, but my statcounter tells me she comes back every day. I wonder why.
• Commentators do not have to agree with everything the blogger says. You can have a huge argument with a commentator, but if it's done in a mature way, you can end up being friends without any grudges of the old fight.
  
• Sometimes, creating an 'anonymous-no-comment-no-profile blog' can help you cope with stuff that your 'normal' blog can't. (Yes, yes, I had created one some time ago to cope with some personal stuff. Don't ask. I killed it recently. It was making me more miserable. I'm so done with feeling miserable. I don't need it anymore.)
• Sometimes you may have a lot of comments on the post, but something just doesn't feel right till that one person comments.
• One can get insanely jealous to see their loyal commentator on the blog of someone they don't like very much.
  
• Some comments can get to your head. Others can make you cry.
  
• The thought of not having a single comment on a post is scary.
• A note about certain commentators -- if you shoot yourself down, they love you. If you love yourself, they shoot you down.
• Your profile picture can become your identity. Like a little brand logo of your own.
• You can fall in love with a complete stranger because of that one post he/she wrote.
• Blogging helps one to accept criticism better, not to hold grudges and to judge people less.
• Your blog can make you some really amazing friends.

Now let's see how much of the 2006 syllabus I can cover.

Celebrations at Sayeshaz

Hey you,

Remember why today, the 10th of January, is so special?

Maybe you forgot. But I am a girl. And girls generally don't forget these kind of things. Today is our anniversary.

We have completed a year of togetherness. It has not exactly been smooth sailing. We have been through laughter, tears, frustration, anger, hopelessness, anguish, and what not, but we made it.

Frankly speaking, I had not really thought we'd get here. I thought we'd give up midway somewhere. But we didn't. And I'm glad.

My experience of life with you has been a very beautiful one. It has brought about wonderful changes in my life. Through you, I have met wonderful people who have now become very important parts of my life. The insane amounts of time we have spent together has often made me wonder if I was ignoring others in my life to be with you.

Through you, I have discovered myself. Seen my best side. Seen my worst side. Learnt to handle insane amounts of happiness without going crazy. Learnt to cope with maddening grief.

And I have emerged stronger and happier out of it.

Today is a day of celebration.

A year of togetherness.

My blog and I.

===============================================

And today's the day to wonder -- how did I get started on blogging?

A year ago, I remember two of my friends discussing their blogs. I got curious, it sounded like quite the "in" thing to do.

"Hey, what's a blog?" I asked.

"Errr... it's like... it's an online journal kinda thingie."

"Online journal? If it's a journal, why is it online?"

"Err... people just like to write stuff online I guess..."

"But if it's online, other people will read it!"

"Err... yeah, that's the point."

"But why??"

"Err... I dunno! That's how it works!"

"Oh.. so what do you write?"

"Errr... stuff..."

"What kinda stuff?"

"Err... anything you like! Get a blogspot account, Sayesha! Then you'll know!"

And I went and got myself a blogspot account. (The last time I had gotten myself something just because someone had told me to, was when I'd opened an orkut account. Then I got some really weird messages such as "I am wanting to do friendship with you. If you are also wanting, mail me at blah blah.") I realised I was "not wanting to have an orkut account anymore". I shut it down and vowed never to open any account without being sure of why I wanted it.

And yet, there it was, my blogspot account.

I stared at my profile without a clue. No idea what a blog was. No idea what to write. Not a single thought in my head.

Finally on 10th January 2005, I came up with my very insightful first post. It took me a while to think and write it, but I think it expressed my thoughts very well. You must read that post, I really like it. It's very dil se.

The whole of January 2005, I struggled at writing blog posts. Frankly speaking, I don't like any of my January posts. Actually I wanted to delete the entire month of January, but I decided against it because I am not ashamed of those posts. I just think that they suck bigtime. In fact, I have a disclaimer for archive readers. Come to think of it, why would I wanna put readers through the torture when I myself can't read them again?! :O

So in celebration of my anniversary, out of my 240 posts to date, here are the posts written in 2005 that are closest to my heart, classified by the type of drinks served at Sayeshaz:

===================================================

Sayesha on the rocks -- Thoughts, theories and fundas

The unbalanced equation

The new perfect

May I have a word with you?

Ouch!

Why?

My TCTSTFTS theory

Of sole mate and soulmates

Rain

Of comments and commentators

It's not you, it's me

My thumb-drive theory

All in a moment's work

Who's reading your blog?

Just like that

The moment


Tequila shots - Gulp it, enjoy it, forget it!

The unfair sex

Things will work out in the end

How many uncles does Lily have?

Dear editor

Indecent proposal

Detox diet

The Grand Hyatt knows what I did last summer

A case of borderline obesity

A tale of kindies

Sleeping with a stranger

Baby's day out. Sayesha freaks out.

OMGWhodahellisthat?

No control

Too close for comfort

What was that again?


Sayesha Neat - The real stuff

Welcome to Sayeshaz!

Gimme a single reason

The Sayesha kind of love

Red roses -- from a gal to a guy

Don't kill me before I die

My andekha anjana

An open letter

Things that sound right in my head

An apology

What's your formula?

Just bossing around

A tight slap and a tight hug for you

My little space

Split personality? Me?

Crappy jobs I've had

Things that make my life worth living

The real Sayesha


Old wine - Tales of childhood

Growing up in India

Conversations with grandma

But I wanna make it rain

Bringing up Mom and Dad

Mom vs Hyderabadi shop owner

Home for dinner

Gang wars

The perfect example

:) and yet :(

Dehleez ke diye

Manaofying 101 lessons by Dad

Mera kuchh saaman

The untold tales

Of cars and Sayesha

All grown up

Pardon the long list, but as I was making it, I realised that this blog is all about my heart and the feelings in it.

And everything here is close to my heart :)

Jai Jharkhand - Part III

As I mentioned, I was always included in all the group orientation activities. But when it came to one to one ragging, no one wanted to rag me!

I realised that there were several kinds of classifications that were done before the seniors ragged the freshies. There was the scholar group and the non-scholar group. There was the tamil group and the non-tamil group. There were the Delhi girls and the Bombay girls. And there was me.

Every time I'd blurt out the words "I'm from Chaibasa" I'd get blank looks from the seniors. So I tried "I'm from Bihar". The blank looks changed to "Ab iska kya karein?" ("What do we do with her?") looks.

Frankly speaking, initially I felt really bad, as if I had let them down by coming from a small 'uncool' town. And at that age and position, I did not know much about being assertive, and individualistic and all that. So it was kinda depressing.

Most of the times, my intro would go something like...

"Hi, I'm Sayesha. I'm from DAV Public School, Chaibasa, Bihar. My hobbies are..."

"Uhhh... okay... NEXT!"

"What??? That's it?? Just because I am not from Delhi or Bombay or Bangalore or Madras... RAG ME DAMMIT! " I'd say in my head.

But to no avail. A few seniors probably took pity on me and ragged me for a while, but soon they got bored when they realised I did not even get any of the innuendos in their instructions! (I still don't get many!)

One instructed me to greet him with a ‘Jai Jharkhand!’ every time I saw him. I was very excited! But I never saw him again. Or perhaps neither of us recognised the other. I still don't know who it was!

Sometimes, I felt rather insulted at how duh they expected me to be.

Remember the senior A who made me play antakshari against myself? Now he was a fantastic singer. And I have an inclination for guys who have an inclination for hindi music. The other seniors knew that I was a big fan of him. So they decided to get together and play a prank on this 'village belle'.

They hacked into A's email account and sent me an email supposedly from him.

Here it is, copy-pasted from the email (yes, I still have it! In my hotmail account, which I don't use anymore, since gmail zindabaad!)

Dearest Sayesha,
I have been wanting to talk to you all alone for a long time but have not been able to do so. I don't know if this really is the appropriate time to tell you all this. This semester has been very frustrating as many a times when I tried to talk to you something has been coming in between.. I think I am too tensed to say what I wanted to say...
cya..
lots of love,
A....

Of course I saw through their act. In fact, I wanted to knock some sense into their heads by giving them some advice on intelligent execution of pranks. I wanted to scream, "You morons! When you write a love letter over email, you don't put the words 'love letter' as the subject line!" Sheesh.

I particularly remember another insulting incident, where I was introduced to this 'super senior'.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Chaibasa."

"And where the heck is that?"

"In Bihar."

"Uhhh... listen up now. I have no time for girls from Bihar. Can you do something for me? Make a list of girls in your batch who are from Delhi. Write down their names, hostel addresses and contact numbers, and pass it to me the next time you see me, okay? Only Delhi girls, understand. No Bombay, no Calcutta, no Madras, no Bangalore! Only Delhi. Understand?"

And he walked off, leaving me quite bewildered.

I did not identify with the Delhi group, or the Bombay group, or the Bangalore group, or the Madras group. I tried to hang out with them, but realised I had nothing in common with them really. I was totally on my own. I became a loner.

Even when I went out with them, I was not at ease. We were once taken by the seniors for an English movie. I think it was some Austin Powers movie. And upto the age of 18, I had seen like 6 English movies at most. So to me, they spoke really fast! And I wasn't even used to watching any American sitcoms! So I did not get the typical American jokes. And not to mention, that accent. I sat there in the theatre wondering what was so funny, and how people could make out what the actors were saying! And I also failed to understand why the name Ivana Humpalot was so funny. There were so many words that I was not familiar with! I did not know what the f word meant. I did not know that words like bang, screw, gay had other meanings than the basic ones I was familiar with.

Take gay, for example. In my head, gay = happy. That's all I knew. And here's how I encountered the other kind of gay (copy-pasted from an older post).

I was greeted by this rather scary-looking guy sporting a ponytail. "Oye, freshie hai!" He yelled to his friend, and then strode towards me. Quite intimidated, I took a step back, and almost stumbled and fell.

"Hi, I'm XYZ. Don't be scared of me. 'Cos I'm gay." He grinned.

"Errr.... hi..." I stammered, rather taken aback.

The only "gay" I knew back then, was the "happy and gay" kind, and so I was extremely puzzled as to why this strange guy was making it a point to express to the hapless freshie that he was a happy person.

"I'm a happy person too!" I thought to myself, "But you don't see me walking up to complete strangers and going, 'Hi, I'm Sayesha. Don't be scared of me. I'm happy.'"

So I gave him a rather peculiar look before walking away.

And that was my first encounter with the other kind of gay.

In the beginning, yes, I was scared that I'd disappear into oblivion, and no one would even notice I'm gone. I was scared that my batchmates and my juniors will not even know of my existence. I was scared of a lot of things.

But it's been years now. I have picked up many many things since then. No one except me has seen the process I went through, to re-create myself. I may not have picked up enough skills (or more importantly, interest) in the engineering department, but my experiences in Singapore, in NTU, and my experiments with my life have given me enough wisdom to know that even small-town girls can make it big. It's what you define 'big' as, that matters. To me, making it 'big' means appreciating life, and figuring out the 'formula' to live it to the fullest. And eventually, big town, small town, no one gives a hoot anyway, so it's best to be yourself.

It's what you make yourself out of who you are, that really matters.

Town small hai toh kya hua, dil big hona chahiye.

Jai Jharkhand - Part II

When I first landed, the official from the Ministry of Education who'd received me at the airport took me to my university NTU, and put me in the care of these two guys, who were supposed to take me to my hostel room. So they took me to this double room, one side of which was vacant. A guy was working on his computer on the other side.

“Okay Sayesha, this is your room, and this is N, your roommate.”

I tried to keep a straight face, but in my head I was like "WHAT???!!!!" I knew the hostels were co-ed. But to have a guy as my room-mate??? But I tried to not freak out and show my naivety. The guys probably wondered why there was no reaction from me.

“So you’re okay with your room-mate?” They asked.

“Errr… yeah, okay.” I put my suitcase down. It was only when they burst out laughing that I realised I’d been punked.

I proceeded to call all the senior guys ‘Bhaiya’, which shocked and annoyed them no end. I did not get it. What was wrong with saying ‘Bhaiya’? In school, I used to call all the senior guys ‘Bhaiya’! (which, on second thoughts, used to make the process of having a crush on a senior rather disorienting.)

I was severely reprimanded for the ‘Bhaiya’ thing. In fact, I remember saying ‘Thanks, Bhaiya’ to this guy, who stared at me and said, “Bhaiya?? I am no Bhaiya! You see that guy there? That is Bhaiya!” He pointed at a surdaar. “Go wish him happy birthday! His name is J.”

“Is it his birthday?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” He glared back.

So I went and chirpily told the surdaar, “Happy birthday, J Bhaiya!”

Now if only looks could kill…

He asked me to report to his room at 4:30 pm for ‘punishment’. I was there at his door at 4:25, but was so terrified of him, that I decided not to piss him off by being there early. So I decided to stand and wait outside his door and knock exactly at 4:30. Suddenly his room-mate opened the door, and freaked out at the sight of me just standing outside the door, doing nothing.

“What are you doing here?”

“Errr… J Bhaiyy.... errr... J asked me to come here at 4:30 pm.”

“So why are you standing out here?”

“Errr… there’s still five minutes to go.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! J, kahan se is namoone ke pakad ke laya tu?” (“Where did you get this ‘sample’ from?”)

J came out, and his room-mate narrated how I had been waiting outside for the clock to strike 4:30. The incident was relayed, and I had at least four guys asking me later, “Oh! You’re Sayesha, the girl who was waiting outside J’s room for 4:30 pm? HAHAHAHA!”

(By the way, over time, both J and his room-mate grew very fond of me, perhaps because they really had not seen any namoona like me before. I continued to call him ‘J Bhaiya’ till he graduated. Even now, if I bump into his somewhere, he has that ‘bade-bhaiya-twinkle' in his eye when he greets me.)

Well, I got over the whole Bhaiya thing soon enough, but still stuck to my Bihari (I spent many years of my childhood in Bihar because my Dad was transferred there) way of saying “Hum” and “Aap” which brought me much ridicule, but I refused to get rid of it. Till date. I really like the “Hum” and “Aap” and it’s probably the only Bihari part of me that has stood the test of time.

In NTU, ragging used to be taken very seriously. By those who ragged the freshies, of course.

It used to be done very systematically and there even used to be a committee with a President. It was called the orientation committee (OC) but I think it disoriented a lot of people.

There was no escaping it. Every batch of Indians that arrived in Singapore from India, was taken under the wing of the OC. Of course, there were some who refused to be ‘babied’ by the OC, and stuck to themselves, and I secretly believe that they did not have as much fun as those who did get ‘oriented’. Homesickness flew out of the window, as the OC activities, that went late into the nights, brought in a lot of excitement.

So every night, the Indian freshies would report to Canteen 2, dressed in their 'orientation uniform' i.e. shirt and shorts, slipper in one foot and sock & shoe in the other. If you were part of the IG (Indian Gang) you had to wear the uniform. At first, yes, the local Singaporeans gave us odd looks as we roamed around and ordered food in the canteen in that weird attire, but soon they (and we) got used to it.

After dinner, we would be taken to the Sports and Recreation Centre, where the seniors would sit on the steps and we would stand in front of them in a queue. Each of us was asked to state our name, sex (three readings no less: in India, in the flight and in Singapore), where we were from, and what our hobbies were.

I made the mistake of telling them I liked to sing, and this senior guy A, who himself was a fantastic singer, made me play antakshari with myself for an hour, while he and his friends sat and listened. They even took a drinks break, and I was instructed to keep singing without an audience. And I did. Sheesh.

Then we were asked to run 6 rounds (2.4 km) on the track. Now I am not much of a running person, and by the second round, I was huffing and puffing. The freshies were all cheering each other to complete the run. Suddenly I saw this guy running next to me, and I decided to cheer him on instead. "Come on! You can do it!"

Imagine my embarrassment when he told me that he was a senior! After finishing my run, I decided to go and apologise to him for my smartass cheering. Well, looks like I had forgotten his face, and went and apologised to the wrong senior instead (who, by the way, conveniently accepted the apology that I did not owe him in the first place!). All the seniors had a good laugh at my expense.

Group orientation included many activities, most of which were dirty, messy and embarrassing. We were doused in a mixture of cat food and cabbage oil, garnished with some flour and toothpaste, and then finally cleaned up by a collective bath using the big garden hose.

We were also made to walk around the huge NTU campus (it is incredibly huge, so huge that there are buses to take you from one hostel to another), sometimes blindfolded with our own socks. The roads had signs that said 'Strips ahead' or 'hump ahead' and the guys were asked to 'follow the instructions' and 'strip' and 'hump' (ahem!) at appropriate junctures.

Complex numbers was another special activity. The seniors would choose a particularly rainy day when the ground would be really muddy and slushy, and make us lie down on it. Then they would call out complex numbers and you had to form them with your body. For example, 3+4i meant rolling over thrice along the imaginary (how ironical!) x-axis and four times along the imaginary y-axis. And they would keep calling out numbers till we were completely covered with the slush.

(Gosh I just realised this post is becoming too long. Looks like I'll have to do a part III to conclude it.)

Read Jai Jharkhand - part III here.

Jai Jharkhand - Part I

I have always wanted to write a post on Jharkhand. I have spent a lot of my childhood there (when everything was all Bihar) and I have many many memories of that place. So this post is dedicated to Bihar and particularly to Jharkhand.

It's ugly but it's true. Bihar and Biharis have always been considered as 'uncool'. Uncouth, unsophisticated, corrupt, criminals, etc. etc. I'm not a Bihari myself, but I am very fond of the place and the people. I think both are cool. I think what you take from a place is what makes you 'cool' or 'uncool' and not the place itself.

My father was transferred to Patna when I was all of six, with neither a clue nor a single hindi word in my head.

In a school where the teachers explained the more difficult concepts in Hindi, yes, I was screwed. I was saved only by the textbooks, which I read with a vengeance because I was determined to prove myself in spite of the language handicap. (Perhaps that's where I get my enthusiasm for my job from, because I realise the importance of a good book when the teacher is no use to a six-year-old.)

My Mom and Dad did not speak much Hindi either, and were actually worried that they would make my vocabulary deteriorate. Though I fail to understand how vocab that was limited to 'haan' and 'nahin' could deteriorate any further. But yes, I picked up fast, and got better with time, although I suffered many many embarrassing moments, especially when I encountered 'new' words that sounded like 'old words'.

I particularly remember this incident when I made a complete fool of myself when a panicky classmate came running to me and said, "Sayesha, Paromita ne classroom mein ulti kar di. Teacher ko bulao!" ("Sayesha, Paromita threw up in the classroom. Call the teacher!") I promptly went and reported to the teacher, "Paromita has hung herself upside down in the class!" Simply because 'ulti' to me meant the feminine version of the word 'ulta' which means upside down.

I will never forget that incident. And the shock on the teacher's face when she heard my report on the 7-year-old Paromita's alleged suicide attempt in the classroom.

Alongside Hindi, I was picking up the cute little language Bhojpuri as well. My tryst with Bhojpuri started when I heard my neighbour's servant Sudhir say, "Hamaar chappalwa phatat gayil!" ("My slipper broke.") I don't think I had laughed harder that entire year. I prompty went and taught the phrase to my Mom, who was laughing at the statement for the next three years at least.

I started my teenage in Jamshedpur, and was there for two years, of which I recall no happening incident or characteristic to jot down here. Tata steel. Lots of coal. That's it.

And then Dad moved to this tiny town called Chaibasa. A lot of tribals who spoke a language called Ho still inhabited the place. The town was so small that everyone knew everyone. Dad was against the idea of me living in a hostel in another town for my studies. So I joined the only English medium local school. I liked it. We had very qualified and experienced teachers who had been transferred to that town or had asked to be transferred for the love of teaching or just for the challenge. But many promptly left it after a year or so, realising that it really was too small a town. So I got more and more used to things around me changing very fast.

No post about Bihar would be complete without the mention of Laloo. I saw him once. In a helicopter. He was coming down to address a gathering in the big field next to my school. He was rumoured to have said, "Bachpan mein hum bhainsan par baithkar oopar helicopterwa ko dekhte they. Aur ab hum helicopterwa mein baithkar neeche bhainsan ko dekhte hain!" ("In my childhood, I used to sit on the buffalo and look up at the helicopter. Now I sit in the helicopter and look down at the buffalo.") Amazing, huh? That dude is something.

I loved the slow pace of life in that town. I loved going to school. I loved my friends, teachers and my subjects. I loved the tribal culture whenever I came across it. I could even sing some of the songs in Ho that blared out of loudspeakers early in the morning, one of which was 'Jimba aabwe jimba aabwe' which my Mom used to sing as 'Zimbabwe Zimbabwe'. She even had a theory that the tribals in Chaibasa originally hailed from Zimbabwe.

Speaking of blaring loudspeakers, how can I forget the homemade remixes of popular songs done for the local temple, that would wake everyone up, including the town roosters! One of them was 'Main shivji ka hoon bhakt bhakt' sung to the tune of 'Tu cheez badi hai mast mast'. Sheesh.

No wonder I was never late for my 5:45 am bus which I had to catch to go to the next town because my school was only upto the 10th standard. And Dad was still adamant to let me go and study outside. (Look at the irony, he had to finally let me go, that too to a whole other country, that too for ten years!) So I travelled every single day to another town for my 11th and 12th.

When I applied for the Singapore Airlines scholarship, everyone around me said that I had no chance in hell because I was from an unknown school in an unknown town in a state with the worst reputation in India. But somehow, I got lucky, and was offered the scholarship.

"You're not going anywhere! You were offered the scholarship, we're happy. Now you reject it, and I will proudly tell people how my daughter rejected Singapore! Hah!" said my Mom. Moms and their crazy ideas... sheesh.

"So? What do you want to do? Do you want to go?" Dad asked.

"What?! I get to decide?? And you're willing to let me go?? Dad, there's a 6-year-bond after the 4-year-course, you remember that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. You decide and let me know."

"Of course she's going!" said my Grandma. "I have to go back to the village and tell everyone that my grand-daughter is going abroad!"

(Yeah, my grandma was not the typical traditional kinda grandma. She was the totally chilled out types.)

My mamaji told my Dad, "You must be kidding me! Send your daughter off to some unknown land for ten years?? Haha!"

A week later, this small-town girl found herself in Singapore.

And with me, I had brought a large part of that small town, and it marked my first few weeks here in terms of people's perception of me and their behaviour towards me.

Which played a big part in making me the person I am today.

Coming soon in part II - why seniors would not rag this freshie and other stories

Read Jai Jharkhand - part II here.

Call me. Anytime.

I consider myself a 4 a.m. friend.

And yes, I mean it in its real sense and not in the sense that I am only friendly at 4 a.m. and hostile otherwise.

My friends have the 'call me anytime if you want to talk, even if it's 4 in the morning and I have work the next day' token. There are so many such moments when we want to call a friend and say what we will later realise was either silly, or nonsensical or juvenile.

What would we do without our 4 a.m. friends? What would we do if we can't tell our friends the things we want to at 4 a.m.? Some of which really could wait for a more appropriate time, but hell, what are 4 a.m. friends for?

Dumped by your bf or gf? Phone a friend.

Want to dump your bf or gf? Phone a friend.

Going to get married next month, but you're in love with someone else? Phone a friend.

Want to elope but don't know the procedure? Phone a friend.

Upset? Phone a friend.

Very happy for no reason? Phone a friend.

In love with the friend? Phone the friend and tell him/her.

So I don't blow my top if a friend calls me at really odd hours.

Here are some crazy phone conversations I've had at really odd hours.

(And yeah, all of them except the cousin read this blog.)

Convo 1 (with a very dear blog friend)
Friend - Hello?
Extremely sleepy Sayesha - Hreelooaallaao...
Friend - Sash, neend nahin aa rahi. ("Sash, I can't get to sleep.")
Sayesha - Hmmm... So ja warna Sash lori suna degi. (Sleep or else I'll sing a lullaby.)
Friend pronto hangs up and goes to sleep.
Sayesha - What the..??!!

Sayesha resolves to improve her lullaby-singing skills and goes to sleep.

Convo 2 (over MSN with a senior who lived in the same hostel as me in university)
Senior - Hey Sayesha, can you come to my room for a second?
Sayesha - Now? Why?
Senior - I have a situation I need help with.
Sayesha - What situation?
Senior - Errr... There's a lizard in my coffee mug, and I'm really freaked out. Help!
Sayesha - Uhhh... Lizard??? Aur koi jaanwar nahin mila aadhi rata ko meri madad maangne ke liye?? ("You couldn't find any other animal to ask my help with at midnight??")
Senior - Can you come down please?
Sayesha - You're the guy! You're supposed to help me with lizards in my room!
Senior - Can you come down please?

Sayesha goes down to his room and saves life of guy (who, by the way, was located atop the far end of his bed when Sayesha entered his room). Guy makes milo for Sayesha as a gesture of thanks. They end up talking till 4 in the morning, and in time, become the best of friends.

Convo 3 (with a cousin clueless about time differences across the world)
Cousin - Hello Sayesha! This is me, cousin X. I got your number from Aunty Y.
Sayesha - Okay... err.. hi...
Cousin - So how's life?
Sayesha - What's the time?
Cousin - It's only 11. Oh no, do you sleep early? Did I wake you up? What time do you go to sleep?
Sayesha - At 11.
Cousin - So I just caught you before you went to bed! Cool!
Sayesha - No, it's 1:30 a.m.
Cousin - No no, it's only 11.
Sayesha - 11 for you, 1:30 for me.
Cousin - Oh you have a different time from India?
Sayesha - Yes. I'm 2.5 hours ahead of you.
Cousin - Oh okay! Wow. That's amazing.
Sayesha - Errr.. yeah okay.
Cousin - So how are you?
Sayesha - What the..??!!

Sayesha resolves to call the guy up at 6 a.m. her time the next day.

Convo 4 (with Virdi, who else?)
Virdi: Oye Sayesha?
Sayesha: Haan Virdi... bol...
Virdi: Virdi here...
Sayesha: Yeah I know... kitna time hua hai? ("What's the time?")
Virdi: Yahan 2 baje hain... ("It's 2 here.")
Sayesha: Matlab yahan 4:30 a.m.??!! Kya hua? Koi problem? ("Which means 4:30 a.m. here??!! What happened? Any problem?")
Virdi: Kya kar rahi thi? ("So what were you doing?")
Sayesha: Bhangra aur kya? 4:30 a.m. ko aur kya karte hain log? ("Bhangra, what else? What else do people do at 4:30 a.m.?")
Virdi: Hahahahahahahahaa!
Sayesha: Bata kyun phone kiya? Koi zaroori baat? ("So why did you call? Anything important?")
Virdi: Nahin aise hi. Aur bata? ("No, just like that. So tell me, what's happening?")
Sayesha: Aur bata???????? 4 a.m. ko aur bata??? What the..??!!

Sayesha can't remember anything about the conversation, but she remembers not killing him.

What's happening?

I'm back!

Fabulous holiday. Very memorable moments.

I got exactly what I'd asked for. Cold weather. Winter clothes. Great company. Long talks. Good times.

And closure. To the new year and many other things with it.

And just like any other trip, this one too was not without its share of happening and not so happening incidents.

Not so happening - Heavy fog at Victoria Peak rendered 'the view' invisible.
Happening - Walking around the area at night in pitch darkness and a slight drizzle more than made up for it.

Not so happening - The wind was so cold and wild that if my hair was a wig, I'd be stripped of it in a second.
Happening - Hot lemon tea and warm conversations in Delifrance

Not so happening - Construction work at Discovery Bay had closed the many eating places, except for one.
Happening - The food at that one open place, and the serene beach with the beautiful sounds of the lapping water, moments of silence... heaven.









Not so happening - Not knowing Cantonese and so not being able to place orders in some of the street food places
Happening - Placing our order by pointing to the same thing that the guy at the next table was eating (amazing street food made with maggi (!) and other things)

















Not so happening - An exhausting hike that rendered me breathless many times
Happening - The sight of the breathtaking view ahead of us. Wow. I mean, double wow.

Not so happening - Fellow hiker, with a record of 13 skips, teaches me to skip stones, and I do a 1.5 at most.
Happening - I learned to skip stones!




















Not so happening - "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" Bugging fellow hikers about the mid-point of the hike.
Happening - The sight of the beach when we finally reached the midpoint
























Not so happening - The water was brrrrr... cold cold cold! I had to literally drag my friend into talking off her shoes and entering the water.
Happening - The warmth of the receding water and the feel of the fine sand underneath my feet, a little game I like to play with the waves called 'catch me if you can'


















Not so happening - Realising that not only were we too tired to complete the hike, but we would be late for the new year's party too if we hiked it back
Happening - Taking a rickety speedboat on choppy waters of the South China Sea back to the start of the hike

Not so happening - The speedboat is really living up to its name, there are no life jackets, the boat goes through rocks and my friend completely freaks out
Happening - Fellow hiker gets to be the knight in shining armour and hold one girl in each arm. Dude, cherish that moment, it may not happen to you again!

Not so happening - Sayesha and her friends are squashed in a sea of people as crowd management closes some paths in Lan Kwai Fong for new year's celebrations.
Happening - The beautiful Hong Kong people, all dressed up to usher in the new year

Not so happening - Having vodka and cranberry juice spilt on my new year's clothes by some drunk chick
Happening - Togetherness during the countdown with people who matter

Not so happening - Random drunk African American guy comes up to me in the middle of the road on new year's and says "Give me a new year's kiss, baby!"
Happening - I freak out and having nothing else in my hand, raise my mobile phone in defence. Guy kisses the mobile phone and walks away happily, leaving an indescribable expression on my face.

Not so happening - Trying to bargain for a further discount on Bollywood DVDs that I was already getting for about five Singapore dollars each
Happening - Finding movies that I had been looking for, for a long time now -- Chandni, Maine Pyaar Kiya, Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron, Kabhi Haan Kabhi Na, etc.

Not so happening- Me pointing to a Harley Davidson complete with rider in black, and excitedly exclaiming, "Oh look! Harley Davidson! I'd never seen a Harley Davidson in real life! Complete with rider in black!"
Happening - I saw a Harley Davidson complete with rider in black. :)

Not so happening - Trudging to HKUST at the end of a tiring tiring day
Happening - Realising how very beautiful the HKUST campus is

Not so happening - Terribly cold weather and tremendous chilly winds aboard the cruise on new year's, making it impossible to stay on deck for more than 15 minutes
Happening - Spending 1st Jan on a cruise that goes to nowhere

Not so happening - My travel mate goes down with food poisoning on the cruise and needs medical attention
Happening - The two hours of silence and thoughts as I watched her resting in the observation room. I generally don't get such long phases of silence to really sit down and think about stuff. Stuff like What is important to us? Who are important to us? What are we doing about it? Whom are we living our lives for? What is it that we want out of our lives? Where are we eventually headed? Many many broken thoughts...

2005 was a great year for me. Best moments. Best holidays. Best relationships. Best friends. Best conversations. There are so many things about 2005 that I will miss, that it almost breaks my heart.

And no matter how optimistic I am, I have to face it. There will never be a 2005 again. Which is why, on some levels, I don't want to look forward to what 2006 has to offer me. Yet.

For fear of belittling what 2005 was to me.

Sayesha falls silent for a while as intense thoughts take over her words.