It has been a while since my last post. This has been a conscious decision. During this hiatus from blogging I assessed the plethora of blogs I had started. Trying to keep all of them updated was getting me frazzled, and oft times I produced mediocre posts.
No more. I have decided to concentrate on just three spheres: discovering the joy of coffee, blogging for small business and personal observations. If any of these topics interest you, subscribe to their RSS Feeds:
Observed as Columbus Day in United States to commemorate the carnage committed by Christopher Columbus for getting mad after he had sailed in the completely opposite direction, there was no joy in surfing through history lessons when I opened the Facebook account today. This was anointed by the fact that it is the holy festival of Bakri Eid, the day Mohammed passed the critical test of willing to sacrifice his son, who was replaced by a goat last second, by divine intervention of course.
I had debated on the benefits of learning a programming language only some minutes before, and the Internet threw me a 'sign' to continue on stretching my learning curve. First was a video advertisement for American Express. Representing 1.2% of the female auto mechanics in the United States, Audra Fordin initiated a workshop series "Women Auto Know" to answer questions on the mechanical workings of motorcars. Managing her family-owned business circa 1933, she is one among the few cracking through the 'men only' autoclub.
Vandana, the Kinetic mechanic I visited in Bombay even before I officially acquired by two-wheeler driving license was the first female I knew in the auto-repair business. She was rough on the edges, as most male mechanics are too. The shop was originally owned/leased by her father who I would meet at the shop if Vandana was out for a test-drive of a repaired bike. He was already old when I was in college; I saw less and less of him in the following years, as Vandana grew more used to handling the workshop by herself. She had atleast two mechanic boys on hand doing the grunt work. Not like she was afraid of getting her hands dirty. Dressed in a beige checkered shirt with her hair oiled and tied into a ponytail, she was all business.
Her round face was open and honest; worn with the grunt work of dealing with men, she smiled beautifully whenever I asked her probing questions about my sea-green Kinetic Marvel 'Can you show me which valve needs replacement?' or 'Does this have to be replaced? Can't it just be repaired?' I would try to bargain.
She was well aware of the stigma attached to women being on both sides, and held her ground firmly to leering middle-aged men who tried to bargain with her. Of a short stature, her arms would automatically rise up to her hips when faced with hostility; a stance which psychologically associated with her appearing bigger. After both of my major accidents, I had dropped my Marvel off at Vandana's workshop, even when the place was shut for business on a Sunday. Knowing it would be taken care of well.
Tucked in a corner under the Kennedy Bridge in Grant Road, I despaired to sell my Marvel when it could no longer withstand waterlogging from the incessant monsoon floods. Last I spotted Vandana was under my house at the spare parts shop where she shopped often. There were a few gray strands shading her tresses.
I wonder if she has a daughter of her own whom she is prepping to pass on the baton.
Leaves are a blazing red and yellow. Scattered on the pavements. Sloshed with icy water. Tumbling about when the wind whistles between the apartment blocks.
Today is the first rainy day after a long dry spell of summer. I am well-prepared for this. Feet snuggled into fluffy booties, palms enclosed in fingerless gloves, beanie pulled down to the ears so it meets the high collared sweater just at the nape of my neck.
But the grey weather brings a fogginess to mind which just doesn't shake off. I don't want to get caffeinated every day - tea and coffee - stay in the pantry. On a bored weekday afternoon, I stumbled into Whole Foods and weaved through to the Asian Foods section. Found an interesting snack - Savory roasted Korean seaweed with Wasabi. It had a warning temperature bar indicating this would be hot. But for 20 sheets of seaweed, I am willing to take the risk.
On a day like today, instead of nibbling on it, I take out the seaweed crisp and place it entirely in the mouth. There is a burst of fiery flavor which pops open the nostrils, shooting Endorphins right up the nasal passage. The inflammation lasts for 5 seconds, leaving me refreshed.
The suggested serving size is 10 sheets; one will do just fine for me.
Am up on my feet, raring to go for the rest of the day.
Flag of Portland, Oregon. Designed by Douglas Lynch. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Moving cross-country to Portland seemed like a challenge, 300 days of rain, steep hillocks on every turn. But that was a year back
I've since slowly and ungrudgingly embraced the hippie lifestyle of Little Beirut where cyclists ride leisurely on the road cars following them in no hurry, and pedestrians smile when they glance at you. It all started quite innocently one Spring Sunday morning on the way to the Pancake House, I saw people in a parking area shuffling from booth to booth. On the return journey, I stopped to investigate and discovered my first-ever Farmer's Market. 'Organic' was plastered on everything from beeswax candles to the coffee van.
Ended up buying veggies and digging into Nutella-smothered crepes, all organic of course. The tastes and flavors of organic produce were exciting; an orange smelled and tasted 'real' unlike the Cuties from the big produce store. A different perspective for food.One thing led to another and now I shop at New Season's or Whole Foods filling my basket with gluten-free and vegan food (I had no clue what these were until I landed in the city of roses)
Search results in Google intuitively started throwing search results for DIY projects so my bathroom vanity now stocks home-made toothpaste, face cleanser and shampoo. The cool rain-laden weather nurtures a bountiful herb garden of chives, basil, mint, chillies, scallions harvested every month. Am adding 'shrooms in my next harvest.
I love the Thanksgiving Holiday. It always ensures my birthday celebration protracts over four days. On the eve of my crossing over from being yuppy to smug, I drew a list of thing I didn't know when I was 20. Although these things are obvious, and experienced adults (parents, older sibling, bosses, teachers, stranger on train) told me a decade ago, it took my own adventurous encounters to interpret their words.
Family comes first.
I like working in a set routine, no matter how mundane the tasks may seem.
Writing is my first love, and I will continue to pursue it, although I may not turn out to be that bestselling author dais.
Shedding 5 kgs is not as easy as a week's summer camp in the hills of Coorg anymore.
Pepsi, you can't beat the addiction of Espresso shots.
I do look better with neck-length hair. Like mom would say, the crew cut makes me look like a skinned chicken.
Not getting first-grade does not mean that life is doomed. It simply means I'm no good at rote-learning, which makes me an idea-person, and thus more employable.
I should have read all those books which were in the recommended reading list over hanging out with colleage-mates. They are awesome pieces of writing, as I have found out.
Be yourself, in clothes, words, and actions. Everyone around you is in the same groove of self-doubt.
