Freedom

How sad is the world, now that I have the freedom.

How unbearably dark is the night, and bright the day.

Today, I have a choice. Would I like to study further? Would I like to add a post grad degree to my undergrad one? Or would I like to, perhaps, continue the life of a robot, working in an IT company, trying to climb another rung of the ladder. 

How simple were the times, when I knew what was expected of me. Finish my school, get married to a man best suited to my social standing, cook and clean for him and his, have babies, and rule the roost. The writing on the wall was clear. You are inferior. Do as your man says, stay away from intelligent discussions, keep yourself covered, do not speak when not spoken to, and above all, submit.

But today, I hold my head up high. I tell the world, I am educated. I am better than the man. I will do as I please. I will aim higher than a man, rise above the pettiness of jealousy and comparison. I will not stop. But where is it that I want to go? Do I want money, or do I want a family? Do I want a good steady job, or do I want one where every minute is a challenge, every turn a surprise? I don't know. I am standing at crossroads, trying to figure out, which road to take. The task of living, all of a sudden, feels so...futile. Why isn't living fun any more? Isn't the whole point of being alive to have fun, to experience such wonders that leave me breathless?

It's a little ironic that I am speaking thus, considering I just finished reading 1984. The master of all slavery books. Orwell took the meaning of Freedom in a Society to all new heights. The hopelessness in his writing leaves you feeling a little unsettled. His words convey more than what they mean. 

We are living in a time, when people are breaking out against the norm, taking their own decisions, fighting for their rights, experimenting with their own lives. It's a time to celebrate and breathe in the fresh air, not to sit back and despair. There are still some places in the world where women are not allowed to vote, are not allowed to show their faces to the world. Where couples don't have the freedom to birth a second child. Where some things as basic as education could lead to an abduction. And here I am, in despair, because I cannot bring my GMAT score to cross a 600. 

Quoting from PS I Love You, if I ever get a 700, it will be the end of life, as we know it.

Naina

N.B:Not that it's relevant, but I struck the neck of a goose out of sheer anger in my dream last night. I screamed and threw objects around with a lot of force. And then I was weeping for the rest of my dream because of the atrocity of my actions. I am beginning to think I need medical attention.

Disclaimer: This post was published solely for my satisfaction. You are in no way obliged to like it.It makes no sense. By next week, it will cease to make sense to me.

Creak! - Edited

Made some minor changes to the original post, in the hope that it reads less like something a five year old would have thought up.

With a word she can get what she came for.

Creak!
Mira winced as the door creaked in the still of the night. Surely, it would have woken up someone? She stood listening to the slightest sound. None. She gently slid into Aliya's office and closed the door behind her. Slipping into Aliya's chair, she switched on her laptop and waited. When the log in screen appeared she promptly typed in Aliya's password and waited for the machine to boot.
Five seconds passed…waiting…ten…still waiting. She checked her watch. Twenty seconds...hurry up!
Thirty…ah! Finally. Aliya needed a new one. Maybe something with a better security as well…
Mira quickly pulled out a CD from inside its case. It gleamed in the glow of the laptop screen. She smiled as she loaded it. Thankfully, the laptop took lesser time to load the CD than it had taken for it to boot. Mira was already getting nauseous with anxiety.
This CD was by far, her favorite piece of work. Designed to work on every system, it had managed to decrypt a whole lot of complex passwords in the past. But she wasn't expecting any complications with this one...Aliya was too trusting. Besides, she didn't really know the importance of what she had on her hands.
OK, enough dawdling, she had better get down to work. She scanned Aliya's computer to find what she was looking for. What that was exactly, even she had no idea. But she knew it was there.
She scanned folder after folder having mundane names. Her legs were bobbing up and down with impatience. Just when she was deep into one of the directories, she found it. There.
That could be it, that had to be it. Double clicking the folder, her doubts were removed when she was prompted for a password. She set her software to work and watched as character after character was scanned in search for the correct one.
She checked her watch. 2 a.m. she thought of the morning when she would present the new program to her boss. How he would smile and say, I knew you would be the one to find the solution…

"Mira?"
Mira looked up, remembering where she was with a jolt. She was now staring into Aliya's face, tired and questioning.
"What are you doing here?" She asked as she strode up to her desk and joined Mira to face the screen. Mira saw her face redden, first with anger and then with sadness. Not trusting herself to say anything, Mira pulled her gaze away from her face and stared back at the screen. The last character was being hunted up.
MiraMia.
She thought back to the time her sister had trouble pronouncing her name. She felt a lump form in her throat as her dream burned away. She looked up at her sister just as she looked down at her. Something passed between them.
"Good night Mia".
She closed the door after she had left the room.

Typo is my middlenamf

I am about to type the following post without fixinf any typos. In short, without using the backspace.
But just so you know, I am being copletely honest when I say that, I will confess that i have used it twice in th first sentence.

I have been sitting in front og my oarnge coloured baby laptipo (laptop) for the past half an hour now, trying to figure out what to writee here. I asked my sister and Varun for help, and in an extremely sarcastic reply, I was told to write a post about how some peple have not gotten used to keyboards even after four years. Titled: Type is my middlenamf. (For the sake of clarity, that was: "Typo is my middlenamf")

The conversation that started it all

Here I am, trying to do just that. I am still trying to figure out how lame this post can be.
Not using the backspace also means that I shall not be able to fix any grammatical erros that I end up making. Please excuse. Also, apologies if I end up typing something which hurts your sensibility. For example whore, or sex. Thankfully, blogger des not have auto correct. I have been known to make some really dirty (completely unintentional, mind you) jokes because of auto correct. (I bet You are cursoing yourself right now, Varun Sharma. In yo face.)
I am tying to figure out, how many people are going to be getting affected by this post. I bet   most of the people reading this, are just itching to fix ALL of what I have typed out so far. Typo Nazis. Leave some room for mistakes! Loosen up, it's juist an incorrect spelling. Umagine what I have to go through, I have to think so much before I write anything down (not really). But seriously, loosen up. Don't be so uptight about my spelling, y typos, my missed letters, or even my additional letters. Think of this as an experiment. I am a great mibnd, trying to study human reactions to typos. I would really appreciate if I could get some comments on how much you hated readingthrough this poast. *evil laghter*
Since I have nothing of much substance to say anyway, I shall end the post here. I look forward to hearing from anyone out there, who has read my blog. Please tell me how bummed out you are by this typo ridden post.

Naina "Typo" Taneja

Creak

NOTE: If you're here for the first time, I suggest you read the edited version of this post first. It definitely reads better. You can find it here.

I wrote this piece long back, before Lisbeth Salander came onto the scene, mind you. It may appear a little juvenile. I have not made any changes to it. I would like to, here and there. But some other time.
Thanks for this, Lala!

With a word she can get what she came for.

Creak!
Mira winced as the door creaked in the still of the night. Surely, it would have woken up someone? She stood listening to the slightest sound. None. She gently slid into Aliya's office and closed the door behind her. Slipping into Aliya's chair, she switched on her laptop and waited. When the log in screen appeared she promptly typed in Aliya's password and waited for the machine to boot.
Five seconds passed…waiting…ten…still waiting. She checked her watch. Twenty seconds...hurry up!
Thirty…ah! Finally. Aliya needed a new one. Maybe something with a better security as well…
Mira quickly pulled out a CD from inside its case. It gleamed in the glow of the laptop screen. She smiled as she loaded it. Thankfully, the laptop took lesser time to load the CD than it had taken for it to boot. Mira was already getting nauseous with anxiety.
This CD was by far, her favorite piece of work. Designed to work on every system, it could retrieve the longest passwords within minutes.
Hmm…maybe she could try NASA's site next…
OK, enough dreaming, she had better get down to work. She scanned Aliya's computer to find what she was looking for. What that was exactly, even she had no idea. But she knew it was there.
Music...pictures...mail…
OFFICE! Yes, that could be it, that had to be it. Double clicking the folder, her doubts were removed when she was prompted for a password. She set her hacking masterpiece to work and watched as character after character was scanned in search for the correct one.
She checked her watch. 2 a.m. she thought of the morning when she would present the new program to her boss. How he would smile and say, I knew you would be the one to find the solution…

"Mira?"
Mira looked up, remembering where she was with a jolt. She was now staring into Aliya's face, tired and questioning.
"What are you doing here?" She asked as she strode up to her desk and joined Mira to face the screen. Mira saw her face redden, first with anger and then with sadness. Not trusting herself to say anything, Mira pulled her gaze away from her face and stared back at the screen. The last character was being hunted up.
MiraMia.
She thought back to the time her sister had trouble pronouncing her name. She felt a lump form in her throat as her dream burned away. She looked up at her sister just as she looked down at her. Something passed between them.
"Good night Mia".
She closed the door after she had left the room.

Sand

This was the third post I had started working on, way back when I started writing this blog.

I was stuck after "the last three days would have been for nothing." Because I didn't know where this was headed or what I wanted to do with it. I still don't, except that I feel like the runner is in a race against time. So I added another paragraph, and I still don't know where to take this. 

Even after almost eight months, this remains incomplete. Make what you will of it, I shall keep updating it when things begin to align.

****

Its hot and dusty. The sun is burning my back. My lips are parched, my throat feel scratchy. My face burns, it feels dirty. My legs ache and my back is raw. The sound of the crows in the sky has a scary edge to it. But I must not stop. I cannot stop. I have to get there before I can drink any water, wash my face or look at my burns. Everything will fall apart if I stop now. The last three days would have been for nothing. I am running out of time. It saddened me to think it would all be over, whether I succeed or fail. If I fail, it will be over for everyone, nothing will remain, but if I succeed I alone would perish, never to return again. The thought of it was making me ache with a longing I hadn't felt before. I wanted to turn around and settle down in the soft sand of the beach outside my house. To dig myself a grave in the sand and lie there while the breeze filled in the emptiness about me. But I knew I must go on, I could not turn back. I could not be the reason the world ceased to exist. With that thought in my mind, I continued on my solo journey across the dry land, towards the blue horizon.

By Myself

Oh Glory of Glories! It's summertime again. And I had to go meet a lady, two bloody hours away, at 1 pm. Right about the time when the Sun is at its highest. I considered blowing off the appointment (again), but then I figured, what has to be, has to be. Suck it up, brave the sun, and do it. 

I tried, rather unsuccessfully, to convince my dearest friends to accompany me on the journey. Traitors. None of them wanted to leave the comfort of an air conditioned room to help a friend in need...They shall pay. What if I had to go to Mordor to destroy a ring?

On the way to my "meeting", I was wondering, was I always this snooty? Isn't summer back home much worse? I have travelled and spent time outdoors in worse conditions. Heh, drawbacks of working in an air conditioned environment.

I have never been able to understand the autowallah. First, they fight the government to up the prices. They claim they can't ply with the metered rates, because the rates are too low. Then, when the government complies, they still refuse to use the meter. It's always, "Madam, one-way street" or "Madam, U-turn too far off" or "Madam, you look like you can bullied" or "Madam, you need my services more than I need your money. So shut up and pay." And then, after half an hour of haggling over an atrocious price, they finally agree to take you to your destination. Only, somehow, they ALWAYS drop you at least 1 km away from the agreed destination. "It's right here Madam, just cross the road, take a right, then a left, then go straight, and then the last left on your right". I don't get it. Why did I just pay this guy? To give me directions? For the amount they charge, they should ideally be lifting me up and dropping me inside!! Not growling at me and telling me to poo off. 

So, anyway, meeting done. There was no food involved, by the way. (Who invites you at 1 and doesn't give you food! I think this should be illegal in all the nations of the world.) I was now left to fend for myself. The food hunt is usually my favorite part about being out by myself. Some people find it horrifying that I would go to a restaurant and eat all alone. They feel I am suffering from some acute form of depression and that I am capable of jumping off the top of a roof this very instant. To them I say, chill. I am hungry. And alone at the moment. I could die of hunger, not of loneliness. I am beginning to realize that I make too much use of the comma in my sentences. They shall be avoided in the near future. Hope you don't mind. 

I began my hunt for the perfect lunching experience. I crossed a nice looking place called BFC. It looked so like the KFC, I was tempted to go in and give their Arabic food a shot. I decided against it and settled for a Bengali mess. As I walked in a little apprehensively, the man at the door looked at me and said, "Kya chahiye didi?" Aila! Hindi bola! All apprehensions left me, and I walked in and ordered a fish meal. I suppose the fish was what a Bengali would have for lunch on a daily basis. Nothing that drove me wild. But ohhhhh...the bhaja. Potatoes, brinjal and lady finger cooked in a wonderful paste of mustard. Heaven..I have a newly developed fondness for mustard. I often wonder why we don't use mustard as a spice in Punjabi cooking. It takes a meal to a whole new level. The pungency! (Do note, the Punjabis use the leaf of the mustard plant to make saag. A beauty in it's own right.)

Fully fed, it's time to return home. I walk to the main road and realize that I would need to cross the road in order to get to the bus stop.Except that this was a major road, with no traffic lights and heavy traffic. I thought I could do it. I waited for almost half an hour. I was beginning to contemplate hiring another auto to take a u-turn and drop me off to the other side. I wished my knight in shining armor would come to my rescue, He would hold my hand and say, Come my love, I shall take you across. And all the traffic would come to a standstill. And I would walk across with my head held high. Alas! I am not a Disney Princess. I think after the first twenty minutes, the people in the shop  behind me had begun to place bets on how much longer I'd be standing there. I kept wondering why I was the only one trying to get across to the other side. Did everyone happen to get down at the same side of the road they wanted to be on? And then it hit me. Subways. What a dastardly thing to not remember! Numb skull. Of course there has to be a subway. It's a bus stop in the middle of a very crowded road! I found myself chuckling at my idiocy.  I take the subway, get onto a bus, and return home, dying for a nice cold shower. 

After I am showered and watered, as I lay down to mend my dehydrated soul, I can't help but think, thank god we still have Sunday.

Until later,

Naina!

The Original Sin

Food...it means different things, to different people. To some, it's a means of staying alive; to others, a curse; and to most, a delight. Today, has been a wonderful gastronomic journey, of epic proportions! Does that even make sense? I don't know. I am way too excited to get started with my dinner RIGHT NOW.
What started off as a simple project, is turning out to be an amazing smelling pot of rice, complete with two layers of some realllly amazing looking/smelling/tasting chicken.
I have come to realize, that the actual process of cooking is more exciting to me than the eating itself. The smell of the juices, the color of the marinade, the texture of the gravy...bliss!
It all started with Krishna grinding garlic, red chilly and ginger in our iron grinding thingy (you know? the heavy iron thing with the rod, in which we grind spices? I am sure it has a name, Google it!). Have you ever smelt this particular smell? Do this as an experiment, peel some garlic, some ginger and green chilli. Put it all in a little bowl and grind it. And while it's being beaten to a pulp, breathe in. Intoxicating! I love the smell..it makes me drool! It makes me giggle like a little girl. This smell, reminds me of all that is good in life, like everything is perfect, as it should be. It makes me want to sleep with its memory forever etched in my (Olfactory?) mind. If there was a heaven, I bet this is what it would smell like. I think somebody should make a perfume with the smell of ginger garlic paste. I would follow anyone who wore this smell like a puppy in love. And I actually think I mean it.
The girls are usually very averse to the idea of adding ghee to their cooking. So when Krishna asked me to add 50 mL of ghee, with 100 mL of oil in a pot, I was delightfully surprised. For those of you who don't get the importance of that measurement, that's a lot of grease. That's almost a glass full of it!
Next up, we had to add all the nice smelling spices in the hot oil. Ho ho ho ho!! The smells!! I can't even begin to explain what went through me at that particular moment. You have to experience this, to really know what I am talking about. With every ingredient that was added to the pot, my excitement rose up by a notch. The frequency of my giggling was up by several. I couldn't wait to get started with our meal.
By the time the food was ready, I was quite worked up with all the smells seeping in into my room. I took three (very generous) helpings of the Biryani. It was everything I had imagined it to be. I give full credit to Krishna for providing me with 4 hours of uninterrupted foodie bliss. I hope we don't have too many of these experiences in our lives, I would hate to die of a heart attack at the age of 30.
I also hope I made you crave something delectable and completely unachievable. Good luck with raiding your food stores, I doubt you are going to find anything satisfactory to eat at this very moment. (evil laughter) Meanwhile, feel free to feed on these pictures!

Happy Hunger Pangs.
Naina T.