Five Preposterously Fun Ways to Say No To A Guy Who Asks You Out

For a blogger whose nom de plume is "Funny Gypsy" I've been blogging an awful lot of serious things lately! :)
In order to lighten up the mood a bit, I thought I should mention some of the funny (or not-so-funny) ideas I have in my head every now and then. Hopefully some part of this can be considered 'funny' (or 'morbidly funny')...
So here goes...

Five (+ bonus) Preposterously Fun Ways to Say No To A Guy Who Asks You Out

So here's the key: You don't want the guy to feel like you're rejecting him. You want him to think that you don't mind him at all (so he doesn't take it personally), but instead you're the one with a problem. Hence, you should say things like...

1) "If I had feelings for guys, I would have said yes. But at the moment I'm bisexual, veering towards lesbian, and I don't see myself feeling romantically inclined towards you or any other male. Maybe if you had a sex-change operation I would reconsider..."

2) "I'm a Manglik of the highest order (or perhaps you should say disorder?!). I'm such a serious Manglik that the family astrologers and priests have told my parents that my first boyfriend or husband will die a gruesome, terrible death and I will necessarily have to get a second boyfriend (or remarry). My parents are in a conundrum as to how to avoid unnecessary gore and also get me married to their preferred suitor (the son of a family friend) at the same time. However, since you've asked, I'm sure they'll quite happily agree to allow me to date you for a few months...till the deed is done with..."

3) "My family believes in marrying the guy you date and we have ancestral lands in a village in XYZ state and my husband shall be gifted on my wedding (although, being a modern woman, I will most definitely seek joint ownership). Nonetheless the village tradition requires that the husband of the eldest daughter (and that's what I am) be the caretaker of those lands and till the soil every summer for the first three days with the help of only the village oxen. This apparently ensures a good harvest season. Since I don't like villages in summer, I'd much rather stay in Delhi during this period, but you'd have to go do this, unless you want to face the wrath of the village goddess (not to mention the entire devout village).

4) "I'm an undercover Martian (I know they say women are from Venus but that's a popular myth; distorted by pop fiction). I don't mind breeding with humans, but I can't vouch for the quality (or abilities) of our offspring."

5) "I work for the secret service - can't even name the agency, that's how secret it is...if you're okay with being assassinated if my cover is blown, I'm okay with dating you. I know rival agents will never get to me, but I can't be certain of your safety.

BONUS:

6) The usual...."You're like a brother to me". Even better, if he's met your parents, "You're like the son they never had...they trust you and know I'll be safe with my brother!"

The Injustice Prevalent in the USA, from an Indian's Eyes

I came to the US with bright eyes, high hopes and dreams of working and learning from working in rapidly growing and successful firms in the US. A part of me wanted to settle down here to and eventually start my own edtech firm with a social purpose (that great entrepreneurship dream!), and another part of me wanted to learn from the best and the brightest and return to India to help my country become more like the greatest ‘developed’ country in the world. Despite not being sure of my long-term plans, I knew I was hungry to learn from living in, what I thought was, the best city in the world.

Boy was I in for a shock.

I didn’t undergo a culture shock (in the sense of not getting along with people or understanding what to do over the weekend) as much as I went through a morality shock. In India, we have a multitude of social evils like corruption, poverty, the subjugation of women and a nefarious caste system that permeates everything from marriage to voting decisions. However, arguably, most of our political parties understand that these are ‘evil’ i.e. these are bad and need to be eradicated. Whether they choose to take any action to do the same is another matter.

In the US, on the other hand, I felt like the same social evils had been ‘institutionalized’ in the garb of capitalism. 

1. Corruption: Lobbying politicians and selecting Supreme Court Justices based on their ‘political leaning’ is the norm here! It’s both refreshing and disconcerting that the manipulation of some of the most important strategic decisions of the country is so open. (I’m saying refreshing because it is definitely counterintuitive that open corruption is considered ‘transparency’!) Be it gun rights, legalizing tobacco or even starting a war - so many of these decisions are clearly done as quid pro quo for financial and ideological support while political parties are campaigning
2. Poverty: “There will be people left behind” seems to be the mantra rationalizing homeless and crazy people walking around the streets of New York or the working class that continue to lose their jobs as manufacturing jobs move overseas or simply become redundant due to automation. I was also appalled at how expensive a college education was in the US even for middle class Americans - such that it is normal for students to expect to graduate college with debt! Imagine being 21 years old and in the middle of a 4 year college degree and trying desperately to find internships and jobs under the burden of $200k or more of debt. I have seen people make the choice to go to state college or a lesser-known college with full scholarship just so they can graduate without debt. What they don’t realize is the amount of elitism and brand narcissism that pervades hiring decisions, especially by the best-paying employers in finance and consulting. It is unfair that the ‘best’ colleges are so expensive that even bright students that clearly qualify to get in have to consider whether they can pay for it (or fight for limited scholarships).
3. Subjugation of Women: One only needs to walk to the middle of Times Square to see massive billboards with extremely scantily clad women (and in some disturbing cases, teenage girls e.g. American Apparel) for advertisements for products ranging from shoes to jeans to underwear. Then there are the topless women walking around and seedy men selling tickets to strip clubs in the neighbourhood. I don’t see how any of this demonstrates a society advancing women’s rights. The rare instance of limited male nudity I’ve seen in advertisements or marketing material is always targeting the gay demographic. I definitely don’t see any equality between the sexes in work either. Women, especially in client-facing jobs, are under a tremendous amount of pressure to look good all the time. Sephora and shoe stores are as ubiquitous as Starbucks in NYC as women cake on the makeup and strut in high stilettos that hurt their feet so they can fine to appear ‘professional’. Not only that, but they have to buy multiple high-quality dresses with appropriate accessories and and tailor them so they fit their bodies perfectly, while men cruise by in the dressing department with assembly line power suits and shoes. I didn’t anticipate the ‘fair and just’ world of the future to look like this for women. I guess I expected more equality in terms of pay and power instead of 'token' positions in firms where the imperative is to look attractive
4. Nefarious Racism: I guess this needs no explanation, but America’s institutionalized racism is about as insidious as it can get. I can’t imagine the police force getting away with murder in any other developed or developing country (unless it is a conflict-ridden area or the ‘encounter killing’ of a criminal I suppose). In this country’s case, I am shocked by how many times policemen have shot and killed innocent people. Shooting to kill! Not even shooting to maim or just injure! I guess it doesn’t help in decision-making if your populace is filled with people armed to the hilt…but then why were so many of these shootings in cases where the victim didn’t have a gun? And worst of all, why is it that in most of the high-profile cases, the policemen involved have gotten away scot-free? If that wasn't enough evidence of racism, the country recently also elected a President who openly insults Muslims and immigrants. It is disturbing that part of his votes came from the hidden racists in the country who came out of the woodwork to vote him into power. I would still like to believe that most of the electorate did not vote for him only because of his views on race, but his thinly-disclosed economic policies?

Corporate Job without a Safety Net

I work at an MNC that isn't doing very well - a lot of people are getting fired left, right and center and even more people are quitting voluntarily for better and less riskier opportunities. I feel odd working so hard at my job, knowing that I could be fired and I don't have a backup plan. It's kind of disconcerting but at the same time it is a good fear to have as it keeps me on my toes, and forces me to stay sharp and abreast of everything work-related. I know life may have been easier if my parents were wealthy and had connections. I know I took a road off the beaten path by becoming the first in my family to enter a fast-paced corporate job. I know that corporate life has its challenges and can be exceptionally competitive, and especially more difficult if you're an introverted female. I know I've sacrificed getting married and having kids in order to make this happen (and thankfully, the lack of family responsibilities makes the fallout of being fired slightly less harmful).

I just have to be brave and trust in God and believe that everything will turn out for the best. Thanks to God I've come this far and I know there are many more miles to go. I find it amusing that my normally reticent self (at least in spiritual matters) is invoking God with so much fervour. I have a theory that the poor and the weak are more likely to believe in God, because their lives have far more uncertainty and the quality of their life is more likely to depend on strokes of luck and shifts in fates than in only their hard work and effort.

I still care a lot about my career and would prefer if I could be good enough at work that my firm:

1) Doesn't fire me, instead promotes me
2) If the whole company does go bankrupt and needs to fire me, I am so good that I find a job within a couple of months

That is the hope and the dream.

Source: 123rf.com

It is both thrilling and frightening to have your life hanging by a string, without a safety net.

What part of my heart bleeds?

I don't know if the periods of melancholy that I undergo are necessarily driven by world poverty. But I do know that I go through these painful periods of sadness when my head gets cloudy and my heart hurts and my mind races, unable to think of anything practical or useful other than world poverty.

In those periods, all I want to do is leave everything behind and alleviate world poverty. I'm serious.

All I can think is how unjust the world is. How unfair it is that millions of people live without enough money to get home from work, even after earning minimum wage (according to this article). Or how difficult it is for people across the world to find jobs, even if they are willing to work hard, because their jobs are being outsourced or replaced by robots. (Don't ask me how I find these articles - all I know is that they are attracted to me like bees to honey.)

I believe I have always been an exceptionally sensitive, "bleeding heart" since I was a child. But I only recently realised my "bleeding heart" may be a symptom of a very visceral belief, after a series of confounding feelings at a first date that left me certain of only one thing - I need help!

Long story short - a date was trying to impress by getting a special reservation at one of the most exclusive (4 Michelin star) restaurants in the city. Unfortunately for him, not only did I look unpleasantly taken aback by the opulence of the venue when I arrived, but I also sat through the entire 4-course meal looking like the spitting image of a glum, disappointed and deeply dehydrated fish out of water.

At the time, I didn't understand my behaviour and thought it was because I couldn't stand the guy. After some reflection, I realise I liked the guy's personality but didn't understand the need to splurge on a $400 meal when there was so much world poverty. World poverty. There it was again.

My mind has been obsessed with world poverty since I was a child. I carry the burden around like Jesus or Atlas, but without doing any of the hard labour they did. All I can do is mope, weep, get extremely depressed, accomplish nothing and feel deeply guilty again, in a repetitive cycle. I don't know why my heart bleeds the way it does. I don't know why it bleeds more than others (after all, I'm not the only one eating out at a fancy place.) All I know is that it bleeds and it is painful.

I know people say you shouldn't be guilty and you should unashamedly chase money and prestige and your career and some day that will give you the ability to write a check and donate to a foundation (or better still, create your own tax-exempt charity). I guess my heart doubts if that amount of success can ever really occur and questions why I can't just donate to my time and my life right now. Perhaps I feel guilty because I feel that the selfish, corporate way isn't the only way forward. Perhaps I feel guilty because I realise that the people for whom my heart bleeds are those the system has failed, and those that have been left behind in our competitive, unjust world. Perhaps my heart bleeds because I realise that my hard work, my time, my life, my colleagues and my income are all going into that system that perpetuates the inequity. Perhaps it bleeds because I realise that in a Rawlsian world, I could easily have been one of those left behind.

Perhaps it bleeds because it is trying to tell me that I will never be happy with more wealth and expensive meals - instead I will be happy by doing good and making a difference to the strata of society that I care about. Just writing that last line was so relieving :)

The only problem, oh heart, is who will pay the bills?

Funny Gypsy is Back!

To people who were following this blog and reading my posts in the past - Thank you for your loyalty!

To new readers - Welcome!

To those of you who thought I had died - No I am very much alive, but had fallen in love with an amazing man over the past 2 years and thought I was getting married.

To those of you who wish I had died - Not yet! Have a lot left to learn, share and achieve in life!

To those of you wondering if I am now married - Unfortunately not. The future mother-in-law looked at the stars and decided the astrological risk was too high. In retrospect, it worked out for the best.

To those of you wondering what my plans are now - 

I am learning that happiness comes with age, some wisdom and accepting what you enjoy doing :) It comes from following your heart, even if it means you might be a bit weird.

I will restart blogging about life, work, love, happiness and social issues. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing!

A Mumbai Office Friendship to a London Office Romance

My first reaction was an expletive. Followed by a couple more. About a dozen more. Another dozen. Finally I told my boss, "I quit this firm. You're sending almost every other person for an international transfer. How dare you even expect me to stay? What do you take me for?"

Aman was going to London. Vikram was going to New York. Mayank was going to Hong Kong and Supriya was going to Singapore. I was the only one staying back in Mumbai, because my stupid boss didn’t have enough vacancies in London. He couldn’t arrange enough to accommodate me. Or he had just one and he decided to send Aman over me.

I had shuddered and frozen up and instinctively gone into shock for a couple of hours. I babbled and cried to my friends on the phone. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I deserved it more than anyone else in the office. I loved my job and I did it well. I created quality work that was used as templates by the others. I was brilliant at my job. And now, I was the one not being sent abroad?

I didn’t come into office for a week, sat at home and just bawled my eyes out. How could they have done this to me? How did they forsake my promotion for that of less deserving... much less deserving colleagues? Employees who had merely been lucky enough to be going to regions where there were enough vacancies.

I hated my office. I hated everyone in my office. I hated every single person in my office with a vengeance...except Aman.

I couldn’t understand why. I should have hated him the most since he took the sole, coveted London seat. He got the London position that I deserved. But I couldn’t get myself to even dislike him for this, much less detest him.

Aman had been the one true constant in my office, quite literally. He had joined the same day as me and we had sat next to each other in training. We were nothing more than colleagues to the rest of the world, but in the hidden scheme of things, our bond was much more. When I analysed my relationship with him, I believed in  the existence of spiritual connections and old souls.

He had been a thin, shy, gangly guy when he had joined the firm. But over time, I realised there was a lot going on under his inexpressive, geeky facade. We had had some incredible conversations on exceptionally deep issues over some of our brief 20 minute lunches or dinners in office. The few times I had to sit alone with him for lunch or dinner because others in our group were too busy or had already had their food, were some of my most cherished moments in office. He was a cerebral man, the kind I liked.

We never really showed our attraction to each other, much less to others. There were times I was teased with him, but then, like all single girls in male-dominated young offices, I was teased with almost every guy I spoke to. Fascinatingly, I was most embarrassed (yet least unhappy) when I was being teased with him. He shrugged all of this off – and it was very difficult to read his true feelings when his face betrayed no emotion.

Whenever I was with him I understood that he liked talking to me. I could see it in his eyes, framed and hidden behind his glasses. But then, it was hard to say if there was anything more. I couldn’t understand how deep his feelings ran for me.

And now I couldn’t understand my own feelings.

Circumstances had changed very suddenly. Aman was leaving for a position in London in four weeks. And I was leaving the firm, which meant I would relocate to Delhi. He was from Kolkata so the one or two times a year he would fly back to India on leave, he would only visit his home in Kolkata.

I would probably never see him again.

The thought disturbed me. We weren’t good enough friends to meet up every weekend. And yet we weren’t acquaintances enough not to miss the other person when we took long leaves. I had a heightened awareness of my feelings for him as the weeks passed leading to his last day. It seemed the sadness of parting was overwhelming me with its wisdom before we really parted.

On his last day we went out for a dinner, with other colleagues. Throughout the dinner there was the normal chitchat and gossip that permeates all conversations among employees of the same team in the same firm. Some pleasant and some not-so-pleasant information was shared about other people’s personal and professional lives. It was the typical kind of conversation that groups of strangers who are pretending to be friends like to have.

Finally we got up and got ready to leave. This was it. Aman shook hands with the girls and hugged the guys goodbye. There were lots of "All the bests!" and  "Keep in touches!" Then he got to me. He shook hands with me, looking at me directly in the eye. I smiled and whispered, “All the best.” Then he did something completely unexpected.

He hugged me.

It was quick, clean and not romantic. I was taken aback so I could only pat his back quickly in response. It was awkward. But Aman had always been awkward. Aman and I had always been awkward. There was no other way for us to say it to each other. But I understood.

I felt a whirlwind of nostalgia swelling inside me immediately after, but controlled my reactions. I could sense the rest of our colleagues silently smirking. This was going to be filed away into their gossip cabinets. I couldn’t care less about what they thought of what had just happened – it was just a friendly goodbye hug – but I didn’t want to provide any more fodder by breaking down or expressing any additional affection.

Then we all got into our respective autorickshaws and taxis and left. That Friday evening was the last I saw of Aman. He left that night.

On my way back home, I thought of him and me and us. Fiddled with my phone and thought of messaging him, but then I figured he too was not messaging, because perhaps we both must come to terms with how this is never going to work out. He was busy packing today, and he would be busy unpacking tomorrow. I would be busy shifting out of Mumbai soon, and I would be busy settling in Delhi soon after. There was no point in trying for something more, and no point in ruining the sweetness of what had just been expressed so beautifully. It was sad but this was real life, not some Bollywood movie.

I couldn't have chased his plane as it flew out of the airport (authentic Bollywood movie event!)!

Seeking a distraction from the pain of reality, I opened my laptop and realised that Indiblogger and British Airways had a new contest, called “Go Further to Get Closer”.

Intrigued by the title and its message, I opened the email and the first thing I saw was, “Return tickets for 2 to London”.

London?!

London!!! I could meet Aman again. I could show him how I feel, without relying on a message or an email! He could show me how he felt too, without the pressure of being colleagues. Perhaps it would be less awkward than before, or perhaps we’d always be awkward. Perhaps he’d believe in destiny when I turned up on his doorstep. Perhaps we’d realise what we both want.

The possibilities for our affection are endless. Perhaps we’ll always remain special friends who care about each other. Perhaps we’ll become something more. But our trip to London could revive the friendship that had begun and ended in Mumbai into a stronger bond.

Sometimes you need to go far, far away to get closer to the one you love.

The Fear of Lascivious Men in Offices and Women's Careers

Suppose an equally qualified young man and woman join the same, high-profile job. Equivalent talent, good looks and great smarts. Naturally, one would expect both to get the same kind of exposure and growth in the same number of years. But does that really happen?

Source: SCMC Law

The man never has to face the threat of sexual harassment, or the discomfort of being the minority in male-dominated office. He doesn't have to worry about how to get home if he stays late in office, or worry about sleazy looks which can come from anyone - ranging from the janitor to the MD of the company. The woman, on the other hand (unless completely insulated) is always aware of these potential risks. Over time, these fears may dissipate as she grows more powerful, but in her initial years in office these are very real and possible and she needs to stay extra alert to face any exigency.

Without a doubt, every woman who just started work in an office has thought of these situations, perhaps even faced some of these. Those that have dealt with these have had different reactions - ranging from quitting to fighting back. Those that haven't faced these, have always been fearfully aware that any of this can happen. Hearing more and more stories of harassment or assault, they have grown more fearful, or cautious. And it is the fear that is dangerous.

It is the fear that kills women's careers. When that 18-year-old girl got molested by Tarun Tejpal or the Delhi gangrape case happened, it wasn't just about women's safety and women's rights. It was also about how this creates discrimination between equally bright women and men - and hampers the growth of women in corporate jobs. Sadly, this is forgotten when there aren't enough middle-class women in the top decision-making bodies of companies (save for female relatives of founders or owners). The popular argument that prevails is that most of them drop out to get married or have kids or are too lazy to work hard enough.

Yes there are definitely a few women who drop out because they are certain they want to prioritize their family over their career. But there are also many women who are not sure at the start of their career - but when they have to face these everyday fears, they realise that getting married or leaving the high-flying job for a 'safer' one with fixed hours would be a better choice. The costs and benefits are skewed in favor of limiting their careers.

Which brings me the main point - This is why we need to punish sexual harassers more severely - whether it is clandestine in office or open harassment on the road. The long term implications of leniency on the collective psyche of women are lost in the short term media furore about the trauma to the victim. There is also a collective trauma and damage to society - to every career woman and the choices she makes. To the families of career women and the extra stress they all have to go through to support her against so many fears.

I'd like to end with a gedanken (thought experiment), based on the Tarun Tejpal molestation case:

Assuming the Editor-in-Chief of a leading magazine was bisexual (i.e. had an equal preference for both men and women), and if an male junior had been in a lift with him, would he have dared to have molested him? I feel the answer is 'No', but want to know why not?
Would any guy joining a media firm or corporate job ever have to worry about the safety of transport while going home or sharing a lift with a senior? Why is it that even today, women are the ones who need to worry more about these things?

Loving a Strange Stranger: My entry for the Get Published contest

Please vote for my idea and help me get published, at: Indiblogger's Get Published Forum!

This idea is about the forming of a relationship between two recluses. The people in question are myself and a man who was a complete stranger when I first saw him. We soon figured out we were in the same college but had never seen each other before our final years as we’d both been in different classes and had kept ourselves to our small social circles. It was intriguing for me to gradually discover his personality through my exhaustive research, peeling away layer by layer. Though friends around me were dating and chasing bold, successful alpha males, I was fascinated by the archetype of the opposite. This is a story of how this ‘quiet’ kind of love began, and what happened next.

What Makes This Story ‘Real’:

In the vast majority of romantic movies and novels, guys do all the chasing and wooing and girls are just lucky if they have a choice in who to say yes to. But that doesn’t work in real life, and it is impractical for women to give up on a guy just because he lacks the courage to ask them out (yes, forget The Rules!). This story shows how a shy but determined girl took matters into her own hand.

Source: 4.bp

Extract:

Our love began innocuously, on a day I least expected. I was in my final year of undergrad, it was a Monday, and I went to give the CAT exam (the first computer-based CAT) at my centre. Since this was Delhi’s December, a sweater was required. A day earlier, I had researched in the Sunday paper that my lucky color was red and I was duly unpreparedly wearing the only red sweater I had – an old rag my grandma had once knitted with great passion, and which was still the brightest, most eye-numbing shade of red. I would never have dreamt of wearing this in public had it not been for its lucky properties on the day of my exam. I was certain that I would not meet anyone of consequence since all my friends had given the exam over the weekend.

As I stood outside the exam centre, looking awfully tired and poorly dressed (and confidently not giving a damn too), along came a long-nosed, popular guy from my college wearing what resembled a traffic policeman’s fluorescent orange jacket. With him was an incredibly handsome stranger. The minute I saw Mr. Longnose, I shrank in fear and realised the grave sin I had committed by coming in my ragged state. It was to no avail – he saw me and whispered something to his handsome friend. The handsome guy didn’t move much, just stood straight and kept staring at me. Longnose kept darting his face between me and Handsome, quite clearly gossiping about me, my outfit, and perhaps everything nasty he knew about me.

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

Love in The Time of My First Year Of College: My entry for the Get Published contest

Please vote for my idea and help me get published, at: Indiblogger's Get Published Forum!  

I'd like to write about a short (one-year), undefinable pseudo-relationship that I had with a boy right after entering college. I was confused about life, unsure of my career direction and unwilling to give into love so soon after joining college (but hopelessly infatuated!). The guy I was in love with was all too willing to be my 'best friend' (which I requested him to be until I was ready to be in a relationship) but it got messy when he insisted on calling it something more, and I couldn't. What added to my dilemma was the influence of the stars (!), my family being many, many miles away (and consequent homesickness), and my unhappiness with my college degree.

The year I was in love with him, and the years afterwards that I spent erasing memories, resulted in huge changes in my life and outlook. As my body and mind quibbled with the gamut of emotions flitting through my heart, I discovered that my 'strong' rational side could be broken down into smithereens. Past performance is never any guarantee of future results.

I still believe that no amount of books, movies or otherwise-gathered knowledge can teach you the lessons that a real-life relationship does. But I still want to narrate mine.

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

Over-Population is the SINGLE largest problem plaguing our nation!!!

There...I've said it.

Source: Indian Online Pages, India Population 2011

<Breathes a HUGE sigh of relief>

I've been thinking this for many years now, but then I've controlled myself, assuming that there was something wrong in my thinking - that either I had incomplete information or I was basing my results on false assumptions or flawed reasoning. I used to think, there must be something to the "India will be a superpower because its biggest asset is its large population" hard sell being done by the media and the government.

But now, armed with a couple of degrees (which I pursued enthusiastically hoping that I'd be more enlightened) and some thoughtful observations, I can safely say that

a) College degrees (at least in India) don't do squat for learning about real-world problems
b) I am certain that if there was only problem the Indian government could tackle, or one issue that Satyamev Jayate needed to sell to the masses, or one charity that the world could support - it should be the Drive to Control India's Population.

I have never been more sure of anything else.

Source: Raghubar.Files.wordpress.com

I'm too tired to attempt an explanation of my thought process at the moment. (Perhaps in an update later I'll add to this post). All I can say right now is that I've thought this through, and I'm certain that our NGOs need to massively focus on incentivising fewer babies (and, of course, more female children).

• Maybe this could be achieved by paying out a few lakhs per year to poor households who have one female child instead of a horde of sickly, naked kids who beg outside temples and hawk items on the roadside.

• Perhaps this could be done by setting up special, high quality, free boarding schools for the education of children whose parents have only child and are below the poverty line (e.g. daily wage labourers or rickshaw-pullers). In the evenings in these schools, the children could be taught skills that would help them get decent jobs right after high school - hopefully of their choice. In case not, at least they could be trained to be the more technically competent plumbers, electricians and construction labourers. Or the 'educated' kind of nannies you'd be willing to trust your kids to.

• Have I said that the best part of this scheme would be bidding goodbye to child labour?

I don't know why the government ignores over-population as the single largest problem in our country. I don't see the point of spending crores on so-called 'development schemes' when ultimately you're still limiting the poor to the lifestyle of "labourers-without-education-and-hence-without-tools" and literally encouraging them to multiply as it is the only way they can earn money. Have you ever seen labourers digging the sides of India's roads in the heat, with a single pick-axe? Then you know what I'm talking about. They wear dirty, dusty rags around their heads (instead of any kind of construction helmet or sun-hat) and literally dig 'blow by blow' to any depth - instead of using drills. You can only imagine, how, after that kind of day's work, the only thing they'd want to do at home is drink and have as many children as possible so they can help out in the work/earning.

Source: The Hindu

If only there were NGOs (or government schemes, dammit!) that encouraged them to have one child (and educate him/her) by providing them a good lifetime stipend for doing the same. Then the kid would grow up into the skilled labour of the next generation. Even if the child grows up to work as a construction labourer, he would have better industrial training (be it use of drills or helmets), leading to greater safety, better conditions of living and and productivity for our stuttering economy.

EDIT: Oh wow! In my search for images for this blog post, I came upon this site...check it out! (Hmm...so I'm making a very politically incorrect statement here and I'm a modern-day Malthusian? Don't think so. I'm not wishing death or bird flu upon the poor. I'm looking for a method by which our government/NGOs could really support poor households into better lifestyles instead of continuing the tragic poverty-overpopulation cycle.)

Shedding My "Blogging Self-Respect"

I began blogging in order to express myself freely, hoping for feedback and comments on whatever (and I seriously mean anything) I post. I never thought what I posted in my blog could be subject to self-censorship as it is in real life. (Unfortunately, I can't be freely expressive in my everyday life, as reputations last a lifetime and I don't want a random comment to be misinterpreted by an acquaintance as being "batty" or "weird"...) I hate restrictions and I hate having to be politically correct in real life, hence this blog began. Yet I've realised that within a few months of having started this blog, I've made a few followers (thank you if you're reading this!) and now I don't want to lose them by talking too radically... I've formed and changed my opinion on many things since I first started blogging, yet I don't want to let down those that might have expected a 'certain kind' of writing from me.
Strange dichotomous position I find myself in... kinda like an indie musician who's faced with the choice of remaining authentic or selling out i.e. making mainstream music for money and profits... ;)

Image credit

<Looooonnng, pensive think.>


I can't do this. I've decided I can't be unfaithful with the express purpose of setting up this blog. If you dislike what I blog about, you are free to unfollow me and stop reading further. (I'm tempted to write: "The followers be damned!" in the spirit of "The money be damned!", but don't want this to be misunderstood as arrogance. It's not. It means I don't want to live up to anyone's expectations, and that includes followers/readers.)

<Finally feel freeeeeee!>

So here goes, some not-so-interesting-to-anyone-other-than-myself issues I really feel like writing about (longer posts will follow later, when I'm free!):

1) Being a nerd in high school and how I think it was a difficult time, in many ways. Love this essay by Paul Graham, here. There's a good debate (and critique) of the same essay in the comments of this blog post here.
2) Discovering that the guy I had a crush on is a 90%-confirmed a**hole and the only thing he suffers from is a superiority complex and a bloated ego (despite looking like he was a misunderstood loner). Instead of my sympathy, he is far more well-deserving of my cold shoulder, if not outright contempt. Simultaneous heartbreak and heartburn (and anger and fury and wrath and...)...!!! (Better let my temper cool before I write about this one!)
3) I support LGBT rights (and I'm neither lesbian nor bisexual myself so please don't assume that's why). I've been dying to blog about the rights of LGBT people but couldn't come around to writing a post...And why I support them is simply because I've read enough and watched enough movies to realize that love and meaningful relationships are scarce and if people find what they're looking for with someone from the same sex (like they did in Brokeback Mountain, or The Kids Are All Right or Beginners) then it's unfair to keep them apart to conform to 'social expectations' (that really are a set of stupid rules that don't amount to anything in the long run in anyone's life). I know many people in India disagree, and the social stigma remains, but I've decided I'm on the side of the LGBT rights activists.
4) I hate the current crop of politicians in India. I think this country suffers from terrible leadership. Mamta Banerjee is clearly the biggest bane at the moment. Why Time gives prestigious coverage to belligerent ministers like Mamta and Narendra Modi instead of Nitish Kumar baffles me! I don't know what will save us. Looking forward to fleshing out my case on this point SOON!
5) I hate marriage. If I ever get married, it will be for money/security alone. It will be an auction where the highest bidder wins. It can't be for love. Only kids and rich people should believe in love. For me at least, it can't sustain a relationship. Case to be explained soon.
6) I want to write something on the strangeness of my life and the broadness of human experiences. Will care to explain later.
7) Something on my grandparents. Before you go running for the box of tissues...let me clarify that they're about as loving as Sleeping Beauty's Stepmom or the what Evil Queen was to Snow White. So no sympathies. This is going to be one complicated real-life story on family politics and how Old is NOT Gold. Sometimes old people are just cruel, as my grandparents have demonstrated.

Wanted: A Reality Show on "Social" Issues Like Rural Poverty

Photo credit: Google

Okay - so we have the IPL, we have Bigg Boss, and we have MTV Roadies which have all been huge successes on Indian television (unfortunately!).

Why can't some enterprising TV producer come up with a mix of the three and have rich "team-owners" be responsible for transforming ONE destitute village each into paragons of good rural infrastructure, great support systems and help the villagers achieve self-sufficient employment? I'm sure the impoverished members of any village would be glad to participate in this social experiment if it helps them get food in their stomachs. The TV producers would be well off as the competitive game format would compel viewers to watch and vote for their favourite transformation. The team-owners (well-known public figures, who can have team members who are not as famous but have good domain-specific knowledge) would get chance to do something good with their popularity, as well as earn the goodwill of the public. I also hope that viewers of this show would have interesting out-of-the-box suggestions to offer their favourite team-owner, hence harnessing the power of ideas from all over India.

But the best part, for me, would be finally seeing the 'reality' in a reality show. 200 million people in India are still starving, yet no TV channel acknowledges or beams any show around alleviating this problem.

Even if we have just 10 teams, we'll have 10 fewer hungry villages.

This post was inspired by Wall Street Journal's six-part series, "Starving in India: The Forgotten Problem". Funny Gypsy is in no way connected to the authors of that article; was merely saddened and spurred into writing.

What Facebook Did To Earn My Hate

Here’s the story behind my annoyance and spite:

Image Credit

When I tried reactivating my profile (that I had deactivated for a week because of exams) I was asked to wait for 24 Frigging Hours!!! This, when the need to reactivate was urgent and squeezed into a tight schedule!

I could just kill the software engineer that introduced this feature – how dare a social networking site literally “punish” me for deactivating my profile?? I’m an adult, I can choose how to spend my time and if I need some time away from Facebook they should let me go freely and return at my own will.

This rule is ridiculous. It’s encroaching on my freedom and choices.I really desperately needed to wish a new friend an already-belated happy birthday and due to this got even more delayed. (Unfortunately I hadn’t yet got her email id or phone number.)

Seriously, what does Facebook think it is?? I’m just going to go through everyone’s profile, collect their email ids and store them in my good old-fashioned Gmail and EMAIL them from now on. No other site I know has a 24-hour waiting clause for reactivating…this is just so Big-Brother-is-Watching (And-Hates-You-For-Deactivating) kind of intrusion of privacy!

Facebook can go screw itself. Wait 24 YEARS for me to return you Bloodsucking Social Networking Scumbags!

Why Do You Smoke? - My Dating Dealbreaker

(Ok, I have busy times ahead and had promised myself I wouldn't blog again until May-end, but am so upset with a recent piece of news I think I'll keep brooding on it endlessly unless I get it out of my system.)

I just discovered that My Crush (the one I've written about in earlier posts, The Pain of Having a Secret Crush and My Never-Ending Crush) is a SMOKER!!!

The horror, the pain, the torture of having this piece of information is too much for my delicate constitution. I've never, NEVER liked a guy who smoked. In fact, the minute I learned a guy smoked (which was always in the early stages of meeting him, as smokers usually do so publicly), I'd never think about him romantically in the remotest sense. Of course, I have many friends who smoke, and I'm not prejudiced in that fundamentalist kind of way. It's just that when it comes to relationships, I think too "healthily" (call it neurotic if you want) and the last thing I want is to find true love and then have the love of my life die of lung cancer 10 years from now. I suppose you can partly blame Lurlene McDaniel for this phobia...I read too many of her books at the tender age of 11-14 years (For the vast majority of you who may not know Lurlene McDaniel - she always writes incredibly romantic stories in which one person is affected with a terminal illness. Needless to say, the last few chapters are teary messes for the average female reader. However, I think she deserves a Nobel for encouraging romantic young ladies to become medical researchers albeit motivated by the good of their future love lives.)

Anyway, this guy SMOKES, and I'm discovering this after two years of having a crush on him. I think the delay in getting this vital piece of information was partly caused by him being such a horrid recluse that it's impossible to catch a glimpse of him for months at a time, despite us being in the same class. Most of what I know about him, is from his friend's wall posts on Facebook (Note: He's not even my friend on Facebook, his friend is!), and when I saw this tragic post by his friend encouraging him not to smoke, I was shell-shocked. (Well, the post was tragic in the literal sense too - one of those 'lame joke' viral images in which a dead body was being compared to a cigarette - and his friend had tagged him in it, saying "You should stop smoking.")

I'm heartbroken and yet wondering if this painful piece of information has arrived suddenly to show me the way out of this one-sided attraction. Maybe the time has come to say goodbye to this crush.

Or my rigid values.

(Awkward pause, thinks for a while.)

Naaaah...I can't date/marry/live with a smoker. Farewell My Crush! (Easier said than done.)

The Importance of Being Focused

Lately I've been wondering if I have a direction or aim in life or if I'm destined to be one of those aimless, drifting souls who wander from one job to another in search of elusive happiness and stability.
I'm so restless, SO restless, it drives me crazy. My pounding, impatient heart seems to always be beating for the next big kick - whether it is planning out what jobs to try out in the next few years (as I drop one after another every few months) or whether it is pacing in slow dread of the next job that drags beyond a year. Where is my persistence and focus? I wonder if I'm capable of it in any field.
I think of joining academics or the corporate sector or a government job and feel equally dissatisfied with each of them. To make things more complicated, I can't even rank them in terms of dissatisfaction or which I hate or prefer the most. What adds to the confusion is my refusal to stop there...I then wonder if perhaps I should think of entrepreneurship or working in a creative field (options in which, among other things, include becoming a writer or a movie director or scriptwriter...!)
If this thinking cannot be called mad, then what can?
I know I'm not stupid (at least not intellectually, though I suspect indecisiveness is a form of experiential stupidity) but I feel like my lack of focus may be my biggest drawback. This is a drawback that I fear will overshadow any amount of strength I may derive from having a high IQ or (if i'm lucky) glimpses of genius. This indecisiveness could cost me a fulfilling life...I'd hate to just drift along till I'm 60 and then realise I should have found my aptitude in time and focused on one field instead of wasting all those years...

I need to learn to focus and I need to learn what to focus on.

Meditation...here I come. (But how many times have I said that already in the past seven years? I've never been able to consistently meditate regularly for more than 3 days in a row, 5 minutes at a time. I pity myself.)

What will save me?

The Poor Man And His Sick Son [Time To Change!]

This incident happened a few days ago and the guilt is still fresh in my mind, hence I'm writing this post. Though I question what my blogging about this man will do to help him, I also believe that my staying mum will certainly not help him either. Hence, perhaps my act of writing about this, and someone's act of reading about this may just help, in some small way. Let's see...


 


A few days ago I went to college and attended two dull lectures as usual. Our Professor, who is also the Director of the institute, took a few extra minutes of our lunch break, as a result of which the class became restless. As soon as he was done and walked out the door, everyone jumped to their feet and stashed registers and pens in their bags to leave.

"Ek minute, rukooo!" (One minute, stop!) a hoarse voice lamentably implored from where our Director had been standing only minutes before. As we turned around to look at the blackboard, we saw a short, stout and dark middle-aged man in ragged clothes standing with his arms flailing, looking nervous. "Please, ek minute, please rukoo! Bahut zaroori baat karni hai!" (Please, one minute, please stop! Have something very important to say!) he continued, his voice trembling.

Now, we're a class of over 40 students. Some of us hesitantly went back to our seats to hear what this man had to say. However, some of my classmates took one look at the man and judged that what he was saying wasn't important enough to be considered (being in the same institute for 2 years, they could easily recognize who the powerful in our department were and hence deserved the respect of being heard.) Since this man was clearly not from our academic department and his clothes and manner of speaking suggested he wasn't important, they walked out the door as if he hadn't existed. The man watched their cold backs walking out the door and beseeched, "Please! Ek minute! Please!" but to no avail.

Once the footsteps of those that had walked out had faded, the man turned his eyes to those that were still seated. About twenty students remained. His eyes were red and damp. Not just damp, but watery and swollen, as if he'd been crying for many days. He looked at us, teary-eyed, folded his hands in supplication, and earnestly entreated,

"Please bachchon, meri madad karo...Mera beta bahut beemaar hai...Usko hamne hospital mein operation karaya 50,000 rupaiye ka par unhone galat ilaaj kiya, uska galat kaan ka ilaaj hua aur woh paralysed ho gaya. Uske kaan mein dalne ki cheez bhi kharaab ho gayi. Phir humne use doosre hospital mein operation karaya par wahaan uski ilaaj mein 1,50,000 ka kharcha hai. Par hum is operation ke liye paise nahin jod sakte. Humne Rotary Club se baat ki hai, unhone 1,00,000 diye hain, Humne aur colleges se bhi 25,000 rupaiye ki maang ki hai. Ab sirf aapka college rahta hai. Humne aapke Director se permission li hai, unhone kaha hai ki hum aaj ki class ke baad aap logon se maangne aa sakte hain. Please meri help kijiye. Mere bete ki jaan ka sawaal hai... Please aap jitna bhi de sakte hain, please!"

(Please, children, help me...My son is very sick...We paid 50,000 rupees for his operation in a hospital but they did it wrong, they did the wrong treatment of the wrong ear and he became paralysed. Even the device they gave to keep in his ear is not working. Then we went to get his operation done in another hospital but there the expense is 1,50,000 rupees. We cannot arrange for so much money for this operation. We have spoken to the Rotary Club, they have agreed to give 1,00,000 for this operation and students from other neighbouring colleges have agreed to give 25,000. Only your college is left. I have taken permission from your Director and he said that I could come speak to you after your class and ask you. Please help me. This is for my son's life, please donate anything you can, please!")

Something about the way he spoke made me realise that this was no fraud. He was genuinely distressed, extremely poor and clearly a very responsible father. I could only imagine how difficult it would be to be in his position; to not be able to afford your child's medical bills and to be faced with the prospect of your child going untreated as a result of your poverty. He deserved our sympathy and support.
Here comes the shocker in the story: The class's highest-scoring, frontbencher student asked to see any "documents" and the man showed him 2 laminated copies of letters from the Rotary Club saying that they were partially contributing to his son's operation bills. After reading these, Mr. Frontbencher decided not to contribute. As the poor man made his way around to collect money, one student contributed 500 rupees, another contributed 200 rupees, and 3 others (including myself) contributed 100 rupees each. That makes a total of 1000 rupees. The rest either politely declined as he approached them or ran out the door before he could approach him, thus showing him more cruel, cold backs.

He profusely thanked those of us that had contributed and walked out, head lowered and shoulders drooping into the empty hallway. It is difficult for a person who is not used to begging to have to beg. What I fail to understand is why didn't I contribute 500 rupees? And why didn't all 40 of us contribute at least 50 rupees each? Alas, us middle-class human beings, ensconced by all kinds of insurance schemes, don't understand how difficult unexpected medical bills can be when you're poor.
In fact, I too only understood the man's situation when the unnamed guilt that seeped into my heart refused to go away. Upon being forced into reflection, I accepted this guilty feeling stemmed from realizing how selfish and stupid I'd been and how vacuous we as postgraduate students were to refuse to help. Shame on our education, shame on our adulthood and shame on everything dynamic we 'youth' are supposed to stand for...

**
From the above incident, I hope I have drawn attention to the fact that sudden healthcare costs (e.g. major operations) are prohibitively expensive for the poorer sections of society.

It is Time to Change this situation and I wish to provide a helping hand to this cause (and to people like the poor man in the above incident) by constructing the following:



- A non-profit website should be set up where poor people ("Requesters") can explain their medical issues -with descriptions, pictures, etc - that require urgent funding. Visitors to the website who wish to donate ("Donors") can then make direct donations to foot their medical bills. (Hopefully even sponsors can make donations.)
- Any person who has a genuine medical problem (and his/her relatives who are making the request) should first be verified before their request is uploaded onto the website - and the contact details of the doctors and hospitals in question should also be disclosed so that frauds and scams are avoided.
- Donations can be of any value i.e. even rupees 50... and should be available to be made in all forms - i.e. Cash (the person's relatives could come collect it), Credit/Debit card, Cheque, etc.
- There should also be an option of lending money to the poor person (under condition that he pays it back within, say 1-3 years), without interest or with a very low rate of interest. This option should only be made available if the Requester is comfortable with paying back that amount. This option should also only be introduced if the money cannot be raised by donation means. This option is to encourage people who normally wouldn't donate more than 100 or 500 to consider loaning 5000 (with the surety that they'll be returned 5000 within a year, and will hence only make a loss of 500 on it in terms of foregone interest).
- Post-treatment details should also be uploaded onto the site, so that the donors have an incentive to take interest in a stranger's medical case (as they can understand what they're helping to pay for).

 

I don't know if any NGOs are already working like this. If there are... I hope that they are successful and would raise awareness so they can also reach out to poor fathers like the man who had to come begging to my college on Monday.

This post is an entry in a contest, Time to Change! ("If you could change something around you, what would it be?"), organized by Stayfree.  For further details check out: www.facebook.com/sftimetochange

Why am I single when I would like to be in a relationship?

[Disclaimer: Though what I write on this blog, being titled "Funny Gypsy (in India!)" is clearly intended to be light-hearted, I am sometimes quite embarrassed by how trivial the 'issues' and 'personal problems' I am writing about sound to anyone who is following the news these days. I know there are a million things wrong in this world - war, extreme poverty, financial crisis, unemployment, terrorism, corruption, etc... I follow the news too, and I plan to be a fulltime activist someday. Hence, please don't get influenced by the frivolous content of this post and believe that this is all there is to life. Do something REAL with your life, something that makes a REAL difference to the world around you. At the same time, it is important to unwind and if this helps you relax or help you understand yourself better, that's well and good. This blog is just my temporary, lighthearted escapism and public brainstorming. Hope that for you too it is just temporary fun. God help you if you live like this 24/7. You'd be the shallowest person on earth...]


[Just had an epiphany: Wouldn't it be cool if all gossip magazines had a mandatory disclaimer similar to the one above before each of their articles? Would society improve?]

 

Lately I've been ruminating about my single-hood. To be honest, I'm always ruminating about my single-hood (and other important international issues), but lately I've been obsessing about it to a degree even my normal ruminating self would find deplorable. I'm not sure what triggered this momentum in "Reflections on Being Single", but I suspect it stems from being exposed to two main triggers:

1) Impending graduation (from my postgraduate college) reminding me how old I really am and how long ago it was when I had just turned 18 and thought,

"Wow! I'm an adult! Now I can do anything (and I won't get to go to a Juvenile Court for it)! I am legally entitled to blah, blah and blah. I can do this, this and this on my own now. I feel mature enough to make a boyfriend and am even eligible to marry him!" (Despite the strange optimism I felt on my 18th birthday, I have been unsuccessful at finding a boyfriend, much less marrying him.)

2) Reading Kate Bolick's popular cover article for The Atlantic, titled "All the Single Ladies". I honestly don't remember how I stumbled upon this, I believe I was searching for one of her articles on property that she had written for the Wall Street Journal, and instead the cover page image of The Atlantic flashing "What, Me Marry?" turned up on Google News .

Given that 20% of my brain at any given time is preoccupied with single-hood, hence the title caught my eye (and my imagination). I instinctively assumed this was an omen from the universe to help me learn to relish my situation. Boy, was that was one enormous error of judgement... I started reading the gargantuan piece thinking I was one of a niche crowd of happy single women and ended it with the dreadful feeling that I'm only a small cog in a social revolution that implies that most emancipated single women aren't really choosing their lack of marital status - rather they are left with no choice! What was even worse for insecure li'l me was that all the examples spoke of women who chose not to marry but (at least) had boyfriends! I have never, ever even been in a relationship, so even calling myself a cog is an overstatement! I have to be a nail, a nut or a bolt in this revolution. Probably a nut. Most definitely a nut.

Since then, my brain's resource allocation to "Worrying About Being Single" has been automatically doubled to 40%. (Note that worrying is one of those things that our brains does as a reflex reaction - hence my conscious, thinking side has little say in what my retarded, worrying side chooses to spend time worrying about). I know you must be thinking "Stop Whining Already!" I'm wary of stereotypes and I detest people who ape stereotypes. But I'm NOT aping the Spinster, Bimbo or Boyfriend-Seeking-Control-Freak.

Spinster

Bimbo (mostly for PR and fame though)

Control Freak (Thank you Miranda!)

I AM NOT ANY OF THE ABOVE!

Unfortunately, I'm also not yet the Strong-Independent-Woman-Who-Is-Happy-On-Her-Own (how I wish I could be!).

Strong, Single, Independent, Happy Woman

Though I really value my achievements and career and believe that women are strong and equal to men, I still feel a hole in my soul. I am genuinely concerned as to why I'm not in a relationship and never have been. Why don't I have a partner who cares about me more than my friends and would like to share his life with me (and oh-so-romantically ask me to share my life with him)? I really don't know how things came to be that I've passed a quarter of my life but have never dated anyone.

The (research) question I pose to myself is thus,

"Why am I single when I would like to be in a relationship?"

After much brainstorming and mindlessly writing down whatever comes into my mind, my mind battled itself in the following (uncensored) conversation:

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: You're unattractive. You're quite clearly just not good-looking enough. No wonder no guy wants to be with you.

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: What nonsense! I'm decent-looking...I'm not great-looking or drop-dead gorgeous but with a bit of dressing up I do belong to the 'average or above' category. Besides, guys have asked me out...you remember that guy who peed in his pants in Grade 3? He asked me out in Grade 6.

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: The one you danced with at the prom in Grade 7? (sniggers)


Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: You don't have to bring that up! I felt sorry for him so I said yes to the dance...(Aside: He had a boner throughout the dance and it was the grossest, most disgusting dance experience in my teenage entire life.)...though I regret it now.

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: Yeah, you had to avoid him like the plague after you realised he'd interpreted your consenting to dancing with him as dating.

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: Forget that. Besides, I don't think guys go only for beauty or attractiveness, they like a girl's personality. I've been asked out by many guys since then...

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: Enlighten me, why exactly are you single then?

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: I never said yes...

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: And why didn't you say yes?

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: The guys who ask me out are invariably the weirdest, creepiest and most unattractive (to me) of the bunch. In Grade 10, he was a bratty drug addict and completely disinterested in his studies. He didn't fit my idea of an ideal boyfriend. In college, the first guy who asked me out was a chain-smoker, and the second one was a spoilt-rich-kid sports addict. Neither cared much about their academics, the only difference between the two was that the former cleared his exams while the latter flunked most of them. Then there was the College Creep who maintained his record of asking out a girl a week and invariably receiving negative responses. He tried stalking me on Orkut, thank God I had the guts to reply, "Get lost" before it got any further. Then there was that Oddball from another stream who came to ask for my class notes. Though this one clearly cared about his studies, I didn't find him romantically appealing at all. I thought I should not hurt his feelings though and went for a coffee, which I clearly stated was only to be friends, but after that he started stalking too. I realised then that I had to be mean and told him stay away from me and avoided him, not even replying to his (unsolicited) birthday wishes. I don't want to talk about anymore of my 'encounters'. (Sigh.) Basically, it seems that the guys that ask me out are the ones I don't like. And the guys I do like never ask me out. In fact, most of the time they don't acknowledge my existence, or even if they do it's never anything more than as an acquaintance or a distant friendship.

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: So you're stuck in No-Man's Land? You're not amazing enough to be with the guys you like but you consider yourself far above the level of the guys that like you?

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: No I wouldn't say I'm far above the guys that like me...I'm just very different from them. They might see me as something that I'm not, and I know just by looking at them that I won't get along with them. Similarly, I don't think the guys I like are out of my league...in fact sometimes they appear very similar to me - in background, interests, style and communication. I seriously believe that if they take the first step we'd be able to discover how well we gel together. But I don't know how love works in this world. They never take that step in my case.

Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: Aren't you being a hypocrite? If you can judge a guy you don't like before dating him, don't you think the guy you like can judge you too? And thus the endless loop of broken hearts...

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: That's possible. But that also means that I'm the girl they don't like. And they pine away for a girl they like... (Panic sinks in) So I will never be able to date a guy I like! My resolve to wait for the Right Guy will erode, bit by bit, and I'll eventually say yes to a guy I don't like! (Hyperventilating.)


Pessimistic/Critical/Evil Me: I think you're being too pessimistic.

Slightly optimistic/Realistic/Rational Me: I think you're being too optimistic.

Choosing between Work and Recognition

 If you had a choice between...
1) Setting up and running an unknown NGO that saves 1000 extremely destitute people's lives, but not earning any recognition for it.
2) Becoming famous for working in 'poverty and development'...writing and publishing wildly successful books and with seminars attended by people in the tens of  thousands, being nominated for the Nobel many times - maybe even winning it once!

Which would you choose? The too-much-work without recognition? Or the too-much-recognition that appears not to be derived from any work that has made a major difference in someone's life?

Which life path beckons you?

Obituary to a Dear Stranger

An old classmate and the friend of a friend passed away yesterday. He died of natural causes (although the exact reason has not been ascertained). He was all of 22 years old.
When I heard the terrible news I instinctively felt sorrow and pain at the news of his death. He'd been a brilliant student, extremely quiet but friendly if you tried to talk to him. Unfortunately, being a shy one myself, I never got to talk to him more than once.
After feeling the grief and pain for more than two hours, in an effort to shake off the sadness, I asked myself why I felt so sad for the passing away of a boy who was no more than a complete stranger. Just because I was witness to his intelligence or presence in the classroom does not mean I knew him any more than the crowd of faces I see every day when I walk along the road. Then why did I get affected so deeply and personally?
It was then that a realization dawned upon me. I had been saddened because, though I didn't know him personally, I had never seen anything wrong or bad about him. I'd seen a "good" human being in him. Someone who was a genius in his subject, yet modest and shy. I hadn't seen him as greedy or jealous or conniving or competitive - and I can't say the same for many of my other classmates. Unlike them, he'd seemed like one of those genuinely nice guys who live in their own abstract worlds, along with a few of their close friends. He was an aspiring professor. A brilliant and true student. A genuine person.
Thus, something about his appearance, his attitude and ambitions, to me, suggested that he was very good. I frankly don't believe there are any good people in this world these days - everyone is ever-darker shades of grey. But he seemed more innocent than the others, one of the lightest shades if I may so say.
God bless his soul.
May he rest in peace. I know I will always remember him.

PS: Another insight I gained from brooding over his death was:
1) I should make the most of my short life on this planet. Not waste time, not a single minute! Every minute should go towards happiness - be it my future career and hobbies, my family, my friendships and relationships, or sharing gyaan (Hindi: wisdom) on my blog. But NOT on crying over spilt milk or worrying about silly things that are out of my control (e.g. true love).
2) I should smile at more people and befriend more people... else I guess the only friends I have will be the extroverts who want to talk to me (who are great people and I love their company, but I should I also be talking to the ones who are too shy to come talk to me!)

PPS: I'm going to go off on a slightly absurd philosophical tangent here so please discontinue reading if you don't want to hear me rambling:
I also realised that there are are hundreds of faces I see every day, be it on the streets, in restaurants and cafes or in marketplaces and metros and buses. A series of blurs. Some strike you for a few minutes, some stand out (for looking very different) but over a few hours are eventually forgotten. Out of these - a very few people, due to repeated contact such as being your classmates or office colleagues or neighbours or regular traveling partners or friends of friends earn your trust, friendship and loyalty over time. But how you meet them is almost random. I think luck and destiny plays a huge role in selecting the people you get to know and who you don't. So all that talk of 6 billion people out there for you isn't really true. In a single lifetime, you may not encounter more than a hundred thousand - many of them randomly chosen for you by some wheel of fortune.

Quotes That Inspire Me - 1

Inspiration can come from any and many. Anyone can write a short sentence or paragraph or story that can affect you profoundly and teach you something. However, though many things can be inspiring, it is those that affect what is weakest in us that we'd like to be able to refer to when we're feeling bad.
For example, if low self-confidence is your problem then quotes on procrastination wouldn't help at that particular point in time.
The following is a quote that I'd like to remember when I'm feeling nervous or unconfident:

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
-William Shakespeare

I hope I never forget this. I have a tendency to be worried and nervous and self-sabotaging. I hope remembering this helps me to trust in myself. :)