Aug 18, 2009

wannaB-schooler!

In the coming few months, I will be see my dreams of five years turn to reality…or not! Depends on whether I get in…into B-school …. In the ‘land of opportunity’ - do they still call it considering the recession and all that? I’ve wanted to study in America since I visited there in tenth grade and the life-altering move will happen based on whether these highly-coveted schools think I am worth them. Well, I am…they just gotta see it like I do.

The really ironic thing about MBA school applications is that they make you introspect. I was hoping to take out of two years of my life to do just that – introspect. That … while I go to class, have intellectual debates on the future of digital marketing during recession with a Korean classmate over Starbucks caramel latte, take exchange trips to Venezuela, and at the end of it fight for a job in these dismal times – that is when I figure out what kinda job I like and balance it to how much it pays. If they make me reflect so much now, I will have nothing to do when I join school – oh wait, knowing me I’ll find something to think (pre-fix: over) about.

My strategy: applying to seven schools – each one of these is very hard to get into. My admissions counselor guy thinks I’m a fool to not include some other schools in which getting in would be a cake walk for me. But, I honestly get turned on by a challenge – an easy win does not get me off. Plus, If I spend so much money (read: I = Dad), leave my cushy life in India and give up my harem of servants behind to go slog my ass off in a new country – it better be for a top-class MBA behind my name and a rockstar husband and a mad-money career following it. After all, I am supposedly giving up a nice domesticated life - mass-producing fat little babies and cooking Andhra fish curry for my very rich, lungi-wearing, moustache’d Telugu husband (so says my dad, trying to show me what I’ll be missing…while I look at it as what I will be escaping…teehee).

Seven schools, four essays on an average – 28 long pieces of blowing-my-own-trumpet (read: self-dabba for my ‘desi’ friends), i-think-business-can-coexist-with-ethics-and- world peace , I-believe-I- can-fly kinda stories for the MBA admissions committees to digest. I will be burning the midnight oil for many nights – I better get in or the local suicide helpline can pre-book a half-an-hour counseling session for me.

Wish me luck!

Aug 10, 2009

This dance is mine

I'm lost in thought
You take my hand
A gentle tug
I rise to stand

You lead me on
Hands intertwine
I walk with you
This dance is mine

The saxophone sings
My heart beats to the base
Music takes over
I meet your gaze

My feet follow yours
Floating across the floor
You twist, I twirl
Backgrounds blur

You throw me up
I kiss the sky
You bring me down
I am still high

The song is gone
My heart still sings
You walk me home
But you give me wings

Days crawl by
of sun and rain
I ache, I yearn
When do we dance again

Aug 6, 2009

One with you

Without you.
I wake up to another day
of unfulfilled desire, of deep languish
of intense pain,
of wasted life?

Without you.
Time stands still.
But the hunger grows.
Every passing minute,
I crave for you.

Without you.
I eat to live
I die to drink.
My lips can still taste you,
You fill up my senses.

Without you.
Company is bland.
My soul doesn't rise up to dance,
even to my favorite beat.
Alone in a crowd, always.

Without you.
I crawl.
I beg.
I exist. Merely.
Till I am one with you.

Note: This is an ode to my two favorite things in the world - Meat and alcohol. I am off both for 40 days and 40 nights. August 20... I am one with you!

Jul 16, 2009

But, there you are!

I think you are gone.
From my conversations, my hopes, my dreams, my days, my nights.... my happiness, my sorrows ... my all!
But, there you are!

More often than sometimes, but not always.
You come back to remind me.
Just when I think, that your essence has left me, there you are!
Filling my mind, my heart, my body, my soul with the longing that I thought I had buried deep under my scars of losing you.

You said I was the one.
I said, I wasn't.
I believed you were right for someone else.
You and I were just... incidental?

You said, you didn't believe in soul mates... it was more about the commitment that you make and keep to one person...to any person...and it will work.
I said, the compatibility between two people and their personalities, hopes and dreams was way more important than a mere commitment.
I wanted us to cut our losses.
For us to embrace our soul mates.
For you.
For me.

I think you are gone.
But, there you are!
The same you.
A different you.
A calmer, happier you.
Holding your soul mate.
I knew you would find her.
But you needed to lose me first.

A courteous hug.
The regular small talk about dysfunctional ovaries and the new haircut.
That familiarity that is slowly fading away.
That void that is growing bigger by the day.

A smug comfort that I was right. My special someone is now with someone special.
A warm satisfaction that you are finally happy now.
A slight, throbbing pain of losing you. It never leaves me.

I think you are gone. But, there you are.

Disclaimer: This is more of a creative outburst than an emotional one. Status quo is recommended.

Jul 9, 2009

?

I get turned on when the salon lady washes my hair.
I also get turned on when I get a manicure. And when I get a massage. Especially when I get a massage. :P

Am I a lesbian?

Jul 6, 2009

Confucious says...

Love is a shadow...

its there one minute and gone before you know it!

Courtesy: German Hari

Jul 2, 2009

www.stillnotonline_getwiththeprogramdude.com

Part deux of the previous post....

you wake up with nightmares of your Facebook account being deleted and you losing your social life because of it
you are an old 'bird' if you dont tweet on twitter (5 points to me for the clever use of words in this one)
you order clothes off American stores online and get them shipped to you and then brag to your friends about a very expensive shopping trip abroad
you are chatting with a hottie and he uses a word that you don't understand, a two minute rescue mission to dictionary.com later...you find an equally intellectual sounding word to construct your witty, flirtatious reply
picasa is your personal book of memories from recent years
you have a select group of friends who you've never met but love interacting with, through the blogosphere (This one is for the walker, fictitioustruth and all my other blogger friends)
a creative director that you are in awe of (who probably thinks that being the young account executive, you are a groupie of the creative team) reads your blog and thinks you actually might have a tiny streak of talent in copy writing (:P at whatmark)
you sign up for an automatic mailer from a hit music site to show off your knowledge of the latest music to DJ posse
you state listening to online radio as a pre-requisite for creativity in your work to your boss
your mum asks you to take print outs of the latest styles of saree blouses to get the local darzi to stitch it for her
you are on vacation for a month or longer and look up the e-editions of the local newspapers' page 3 section to make sure you don't miss any gossip (This is especially very true of Hyderabad)
gtalk keeps you entertained on some lonely Saturday nights
you download those same Telugu movies that you make fun of otherwise off of Torrent to watch when you are working away from home
that classmate whose skirt you pulled down in front of everyone in third grade or the one whose boyfriend you stole in ninth grade, accepts your facebook friend request and you know you are finally forgiven after all these years
your grandfather who used to mock the internet and called it a trend that will die down sheepishly asks you to teach him how to use e-mail
your dad learns how to navigate the various options available on matrimonial sites and starts spamming you with pictures of potential grooms
your friends rate your sense of humour based on your comments on facebook
you record every stupid, insignificant yet exciting thing that happens to you by updating your FB status through your phone
you carry your BlackBerry to the loo in the morning along with your newspaper