Thursday, October 29, 2009

The "feel good" post

In a personal celebration of me reaching my first big writing deadline, I have decided to write a "feel good" post. This past week, I've realized how so many little things truly make my days.

Here are some:

Lindt truffles: Generally, I am more of a milk chocolate gal, but these white chocolate ones make the extra calories SO worth it. I have no one to blame but myself for my huge ass. Already, I feel truly sorry for whomever my husband is when I am pregnant. I think he'll have to buy a Coldstone Creamery and Baskin Robbins.

Browsing expensive handbags that I fantasize about owning someday. (Current love: The Hermes Birkin....quietly tortured by the fact that Heidi Montag owns several of them...which also raises the question of how she can afford them...and my ongoing curiosity as to what Spencer actually does for a living)

The hotness that is Penn Badgley: He is the perfect blend of dorky and sexy. I am still in denial of his fictitious relationship with "Olivia"/Hillary Duff. I understand he already has a real
girlfriend, but c'mon, couldn't I at least be his fake one?

Chubby babies in Halloween costumes: There is nothing cuter in this world than a rolly, polly baby dressed as a pumpkin. If I have a skinny baby, I may have to force feed him/her crushed Oreos or something.

Outfits in Hum Dil de Chuke Sanam: Still in love with the Chand Chupa dress! And every year at Garba, they still play Dhol Bhaje and I still manage to mess it up.

Roman Holiday: Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck...drool!

The Food Network: I LOVE Giada!!! Yes, even though she always showcases her cleavage. Guess if she's got it, she may as well flaunt it. Anyway, the Food Network helps me plan out ideas for future (at this rate, ten-twenty years future) dinner parties I plan to host.

P.S. Did you know that YouTube literally has everything? I have found so many tutorials on how to wave my hair, tease my hair, apply smoke eye make up, play the guitar, and belly dance!

Saturday, October 10, 2009


Writing is a sneaky predator; almost, I'd argue, a parisitic one. It crawls into every lobe of my brain, resting ravenously and threatening anything that wants to take its place.

And the best part: I frankly don't want anything in its rightful place (a.k.a. everywhere).

I've surrendered. I'm in love.

It was bound to happen. The affair was going on for over a fucking decade.

Yes, it initially started at the malleable age of ten, when my mother was working at the bank. My mother was asking a customer a question and the customer, in turn, snarled at her for not knowing English. I proceeded to tell the customer that there was a difference between not knowing English and having an accent. My humiliated mother hushed me at once, but I knew, after the customer apologized, that I was in love.

I'm making good (according to my standards, which are um, pretty low) progress on the novel. Most of the time, I agonize over each sentence in a dramatic-tortured-artist type of way.

But every (miraculous) now and then, I'll concoct a rough draft of a paragraph that I'm happy with, that I'm excited to sculpt further. One that gives my main character depth and makes her relateable.

At least, I hope that's where these will go once I'm done with them:

"Suddenly, I feel scared at the thought of growing up, as though time and my twenties are running out too quickly. Things---final things, life defining things, permanent things--- that I used to daydream about feel so much nearer now. Too near. I stop myself from being submerged in cold feet---not towards marriage particularly, but more towards life. "

"He fiddles with the iPod, making fingerprints on the polygonal black box as I can see him debate whether or not to give me a white lie: It’s not a big deal; I just misunderstood her; She wasn’t trying to be judgmental. I can see his pregnant thoughts before they are born into words; many times, I can witness their existence before he can. "

"Neither of us spoke for the next few seconds, which felt more like an hour. I focused on toning down my nervous smile, which was now making my cheeks hurt. The last thing I wanted was to seem too eager.
I was in a moment that I thought was confined to episodes of Dawsons’s Creek or some other high school drama. I never knew that a guy could take me to the highest of highs, without even trying very much."

Why Do People Come Into Our Lives?

I decided to take a break from my diary and blog. :)

One of the best things in this world is having a friend whom you can go without seeing or talking to for a long time, and then being able to pick up with her right where you left off. In other words, relationships that outlast the corrosion of distance and time are priceless.

I am truly blessed to have a multitude of friends who are housed in this category. On Friday night, I finally caught up with one of them: Dharmini.

As always, it was a therapeutic conversation; the kind where you talk for so long that it doesn't matter that your hand is hurting from gripping the phone.

Towards the end, we got to the topic of purpose, specifically, on the purpose that some people have in our lives. It's so crazy how someone can be your best friend, or more, for so long and then suddenly just...well, not be, as though your bond just dissolved, leaving you with unrecognizable fragments and these tiny, but palpable, voids.

How come some bonds withstand while others don't? I know many people think---and this is probably true---that convenience (i.e. a friend who is in your classes or lives nearby) breeds friendships simply because, things are easier to do when they do not have to be planned.
And then of course, there's the whole "some people don't belong in your future" banana; that the lessons they had to offer us are springboards to take us forward.
But is it really that simple, that some people are just not "meant to be" in our lives? Or that, perhaps, their purpose to us and ours to them was only a chapter, a stepping stone to get us to the next point?

Hm; don't know if I'll ever figure it out. I should stop thinking. Yeah, that sounds good.

On a side note, I took a picture of my fortune today:

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Parent Pleasers

Being a good girl can be so exhausting.

An Ode to the Parent Pleasers
(Inspired by a conversation with my buddy Chethan)

Usually, it is the eldest child
The one commonly thought of as docile and mild
It's not that we wish to be rebels without a cause
In fact, we often put our own wants on pause
Just to please the ones we care about most
So about us, they can consistently boast
Oh, the lengths one can go to make their parents proud
How come they are never recognized aloud?
There is a punishment to always doing what you "should"
Because the ONE time you don't want to
You risk being tainted for good.

Daddy Knows Best

Maybe I'm experiencing a quarter life crisis. Okay, not maybe.


(I am such a cliche in the worst way possible. I just want to escape to the middle of nowhere and be alone with my thoughts. Or maybe even without my thoughts. Ah, how luxurious would it be to detach myself from my mind?! It was this slew of notions that made me look into a silent mediation camp. If only I was gutsy enough to be one of those people that just goes where the wind takes them, sort of like Jack/Leonardo in Titanic.)

Anyway, the more I observe my parents, the more different from them I feel.

Sure, I inherited my father's work ethic and my mother's chocolate brown, almond shaped eyes, but it seems like that's where the similarities end. At least, that's how it has seemed for a few weeks.

A recent conversation. (Please keep in mind that my P.M.S. seems to be getting worse with age. Also, please keep in mind that talking about relationship etiquette ranks as one of the most awkward things I could do with them, right up there with watching an unexpected X Rated scene in a movie. )

Saumya: "If I plan to have a full time career, I don't think it's fair that I cook everyday for my family."

Dad: "Then you better find a husband who will help out."

Mom: "You won't find that. Even if you do, it'll somehow be put back on you. Just wait and see."

Saumya: "I'm not going to wait and see. This will be one of those things I say up front, before he would even think of popping the question. 'Hey, if we're both up at the crack of down and back after sundown, I expect you to split the domestic duties with me. And you can kiss me goodbye RIGHT NOW if you think I'm making you Indian food everyday. Take. It. Or. Leave. It. "

Dad: "Don't ever say that to a guy! If he knows this is how you think, he'll never marry you."

Saumya: "So, I'm just not supposed to say anything? That's crap. Unfair crap. "

Dad: "Say all you want. But only after marriage. He doesn't need to know this before."



Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Has Bollywood really ruined our expectations of men?

There are coffee dates, AIM conversations, and Facebook groups devoted to this wrenching idea.
But what I've realized is that Bollywood movies usually portray the makings and honeymoon period of a romance. What about the stuff that only comes with time? When things aren't new and exciting anymore? The habits, fights, revealed quirks? What expectations are there for those?

One of my favorite quotes EVER:

"Real love starts when manipulation stops. When you think more about the other person and less about their reaction to you."

Of course, this is easier said than done. I was having dinner with a close girlfriend the other night and we were discussing the nature of fights. In some relationships, after a certain point, it becomes more about who can "win" the fight and less about the issue itself. I guess in the heat of the moment, both of those can seem soluble and difficult to sift apart.

Anyway, I can only hope that the expectations I have for my future, whenever-it-happens marriage, will be well thought out and fair.