DYSfunctional Wisdom

If My Life was a Mystery Novel Series

2012-01-03T12:21:00.001+08:00

Life has a way of entertaining you- and while I always crib about a lack of material for my great novel- separate incidents in the last 2 weeks of December 2011 could spawn off their own Mystery novel series- with titles like:

1. deviousDiv & the Secret of the Gym Mutant

After vowing to get fit by Q2 2012, deviousDiv joined a popular gym near her workplace to commence the process. Things were going well until she noticed a peculiar life form which was always running beside her. Shaped remarkably like a human female, this creature was always running at full tilt when deviousDiv arrived, ran much faster than deviousDiv will ever run, and continued its sprint run even after deviousDiv left.

What's even eerier was that this lifeform never seemed to sweat. Those jewel encrusted Juicy Coture jammies and diamond earrings caught the lights and seemed to mockingly wink at deviousDiv while the creature ran unabated. How was she able to stay so beautiful the whole time, while deviousDiv was red in the face and drenched? Why is it that this braless creature's chest was completely immobile? Was this creature a vampire?

deviousDiv decided to get the the bottom of this, and decided to run with the creature. A full 55 minutes it went on. deviousDiv was so dehydrated at the end of it, she was light-headed and floated behind the creature to the showers. Unfortunately the creature got lost in the mists of the half-naked women coming out of their respective showers, and the other related mayhem of the gym during its peak period- and she was no closer to finding any answers than when she began her investigation.

In the mean time, deviousDiv developed a mysterious injury on her right knee setting her investigations back 2 weeks. Will she get to the bottom of this, all while juggling a wonky knee, a crazy work schedule, and her nervousness around the cute Sri Lankan guy across the room pumping some serious iron?

2. deviousDiv & the Curse of the future Credit Card Bill

When the witty and somewhat dysfunctonal deviousDiv got her first credit card, it was love at first sight. Yet she put strict restrictions on herself, to prevent her from spending too much of borrowed money. The only problem? She is going on a holiday to India- a very expensive country to holiday in, and anticipates she will be setting herself into uncomforable credit card debt in the near future.

It couldn't come at a worse time- she just tied up over half her salary in a sensible savings plan that she won't be able to touch until she's 35, or she closes the account, leaving her with a ridiculous sum for personal expenses that reminds her of her first job straight out of college.

Can deviousDiv uncover a way to renegotiate the savings plan? Can she find a cheap but safe option for travel through the dangerous New Delhi in winter? Or is she going to be in debt to the card company for the rest of 2012 paying off her bill?

None of the above situations--- are fictional btw. ;)

HAPPY NEW YEAR. Here's to another great year of blogging, inspiration and insanity.

~deviousDiv

2011's most popular song

2011-12-29T14:29:00.000+08:00

Is Why this Kolaveri, according to CNN.

Well they did make a good point- like how the song got 20+ million views in under a month, how it's spawned hundreds of imitations (including a chipmunk version), and how "Why this Kolaveri" is the top search result if you searched for the word "why" on youtube.

Ok strong reasons. But really? Song of the year?

I admit I find it catchy- and parts of it do resonate (hand-la glass-u, glass-la scotch-u, eyes full-a tears-u etc. etc.) and it'll be cool if Kolaveri wins a grammy next year.

What about you. Do you think Kolaveri deserves the title of "Song of the Year"?

~deviousDiv

100 Years of Song to India

2011-12-27T17:15:00.001+08:00

For those who are Indian and patriotic- today marks the 100th anniversary of the Indian National Anthem "Jana Gana Mana". A hundred years ago from today on December 27, 1911, Jana Gana Mana made its debut at the Calcutta Session of the Indian National Congress. The song went on to become one of the many rallying cries for an Independent India. In 1950, the song was officially adopted by the Constituent Assembly as the Indian National Anthem.

While words are inadequate to describe how beautiful India is, I think Rabrindranath's words do a very good job in capturing that all pervasive and often confusing beauty of the motherland.

Now I admit I only started loving the anthem after I read Rabindranath's english translation to the piece, which he titled "The Morning Song of India". The title is beautiful in itself, but the words.... well you be the judge.

The Morning Song of India

Thou art the ruler of the minds of all people, dispenser of India's destiny,
Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Sindh, Gujarat & Maratha,of the Dravida and Orissa and Bengal,
It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and Himalayas,mingles in the music of Jamuna and Ganges,
And is chanted by the waves of the Indian Sea. They pray for thy blessings and sing thy praise,
The saving of all people waits in thy hands,
Thou dispenser of India's destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.

Day and night, thy voice goes out from land to land,
calling the Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs and Jains round thy throne and the Parsees, Mussalmans and Christians.
Offerings are brought to thy shrine by the East and the West
To be woven in a garland of love.
Thou bringest the hearts of all peoples into the harmony of one life,Thou Dispenser of India's destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee."

The procession of pilgrims passes over the endless road, rugged with the rise and fall of nations;
and it resounds with the thunder of thy wheel.Eternal Charioteer!
Through the dire days of doom thy trumpet sounds, and men are led by thee across death.
Thy finger points the path to all people.
Oh dispenser of India's destiny!
Victory, victory, victory to thee.

The darkness was dense and deep was the night; my country lay in a deathlike silence of swoon.
But thy mother arms were round her and thine eyes gazed upon her troubled face
in sleepless love through her hours of ghastly dreams.
Thou art the companion and the saviour of the people in their sorrows,
thou dispenser of India's destiny!
Victory, victory, victory to thee.

The night fades, the light breaks over the peaks of the Eastern hills,
the birds begin to sing and the morning breeze carries the breath of new life.
The rays of the mercy have touched the waking land with their blessings.
Victory to the King of Kings,
victory to thee, dispenser of India's destiny.
Victory, victory, victory to thee.

The portion in purple is what's sung in the modern version of the National anthem, but I admit that its the stanzas that followed which truly captured my heart when I first read it. I'd love this poem anyway but knowing that that's what's in the National Anthem truly makes me proud to be Indian.

Its a vast improvement over the bland "God Save the King/Queen"- that's for sure.

~deviousDiv

The 5 Truths About Arranged Marriage Set Ups (that no one ever told you about)

2011-12-27T15:29:00.002+08:00

I recently have concluded that I am not Crazy. It was a relief to finally come to peace with that- imagine going through life thinking you're crazy, and attracted crazy people to yourself. The situation only got worse when I started getting set up with random men, a topic I've gone around and about with, but you know what? I've reached my tipping point.

It just helps that my tipping point was towards sanity, and the realization that these setups can drive perfectly sane people crazy.

Because lets face it folk, even if you were the world's most beautiful person (which I'm not) or can attract a man/woman with the twitch of an eyelash and a sneer (which I can't), if you're Indian and Iyer (which I unfortunately am), you're probably going to be set up with a suitable someone. He or she could be your mother's friend's 2nd cousins' kid, or the 'highly qualified and well settled' person your parents found on some dodgy 'matrimonial website'.

The constant reminders that "you're going to die alone" from helpful family and friends, coupled with the pressure to make a life-changing decision without thinking it through, are all enough to drive anyone batty about these set ups.

And the part that no one seems to remember? If those setups, dates, and resultant relationships go badly or end badly (as they inevitably do), they have a negative impact on your life.

Ask me, I can quite easily write a damn book on the subject, since my life right now is nothing but a gurgling stew pot of messy set ups. I've at least had opportunity for plenty of practice, and lots of time to perfect my technique. But that said, these set ups are friggen hard, and getting harder by the day.

So here are my 5 truths about these set ups that no one ever tells you. Granted, that each and every setup is different, but on the other hand setups are still fundamentally all the same, because every participant is miserable in his or her own way. I could list 10,000 ways the men I've met are dysfunctional, but if you want to escape with your wits intact, the same rules always apply-- no matter how crazy the man or woman is:

1) This set up is not about you.

"But" you may argue, "This is my life, and my future". Well sorry to burst your bubble honey, but that's patently untrue. I know that its it's nearly impossible to see things from anywhere other than your own point of view, and the same selfishness applies to those who are involved in the 'setting up' process, and the participants.

Yes its tough, but its a human limitation. No matter how valiantly we attempt unselfishness (cue the "We're doing this for your own good" dialogues here) at at the end of the day we're still selfish bastards.
Unfortunately, getting as skilled as possible at seeing beyond the "me" and "I" is just about the only way to survive these setups. The reason for this is simple: this setup is not about you. More specifically, it is was not done to meet your expectations and needs and opinions. It's about meeting someone else's. In this case- your family, your community, your natal horoscope and of course the setup.

Case in point: It's a rainy Wednesday night, and you're tired. You stumble home in soggy clothes, and low blood sugar is urging your brain to screech at the first individual unlucky enough to plant himself in front of you. Unfortunately your parents have to pick that day to set you up with someone. Well Too bad! It's not about you. At no point did the unwitting setup sign up for "absorbing all your repressed anger on weeknights" and so in order to have any chance at a pleasant evening (for him, your parents and yourself) you have to give up the "me" and hear about HIS day, his thoughts, his opinions, and whatever the hell else comes out of his mouth.

Another way to say it is "don't expect that your parents will always do the right thing." (They may GET it, and WANT that too, but that doesn't mean you should EXPECT it from them.) Sometimes you just need to accept they found a tool and move on, because if you kept on with the drama, and your parents wind up feeling like sh*t, you'll wind up feeling like even more sh*t. Bottom line-- no one is happy.
The trick is to just get over the whole "me" thing as much as possible, on a ceaseless basis. Sounds Simple, right? Not at all.

Because I'm not advocating "Give up your identity and shut off your own needs in an attempt at Iyer martyrdom." I don't say you should be a doormat, or pretend that you don't have needs in order to keep the peace. Experience has taught me the painful way, that shutting off means you're still extracting what you want from the other person -- by creating a fantasy, and never letting him/her know the real you.

The key is finding the balance, between being you, and being a more patient you.

2) You are 100% responsible for the setup's outcome.

Guess what! The setup is just that- a setup. But any relationship you develop after that, its about you, and you're totally responsible for it! What does this mean? For one, it means that when your potential does or says something that makes every cell in your body swell to bursting with liquid rage, it is your responsibility to deal with your anger, and resolve the situation. Every time.

Let me break it down.That UNGRATEFUL $#&@ SHOWS UP 30 MINUTES LATE, DECIDES HE'S TIRED, AND WANTS TO LEAVE AFTER THE APPETIZER, after making some perfunctory observations about himself.

So what do you do?

Well, you need to be responsible. You need to recognize that right now, you have a choice -- to be mad, to go silent, to prepare a painful revenge, to bring up your ex or whatever. It's all up to you. If you want this to continue, you shove the anger aside, discuss it rationally and let it go. If you don't want it to continue, then its up to you to make the next choice.

And for heaven's sake though- please don't involve your parents in this. They are never going to tell you 'its okay to break it off or walk away' because they have their own agenda, to get you married off. Plus- this disagreement is not about you alone, but also the other person, and involving your parents is akin to ganging up and bullying the person in question.

And that's not looking at the obvious- if you need your parents to make decisions for you or fight your battles, you shouldn't even be getting set up in the first place, because you're not mature enough to handle your own life, let alone your future relationships.

3) You can either be right... or be good.

This jewel of wisdom was bestowed upon me by my grandmother a couple of years ago, and the foolish teenager that I was, I brushed her off. "Oh Gramma..." I thought, "what an antiquated notion!"

But you know what, she's dead on. The truth is, some of these setups are nincompoops. Your natural urge to fight, and disagree with the idiocy will kick in. If you don't, you are robot automatons. And as is the case with most of these fights, it will come down to a single question: Who is right, and who is wrong.

Guess what! You're not right! Or maybe you are- - but you're still not, if you want the set up to end on a pleasant note. Think about it: What do you get from being right, and having him/her admit it? You get a momentary thrill of superiority followed by the rest of the evening with a surly resentful person. And after that horrible evening is over, you both will walk away with a bad taste in your mouth, and a bad impression about the other person.

And as any Iyer parent will tell you, your reputation is important, and by choosing to loose the argument, you'll walk away with your head high, as the polite, well mannered one who is intelligent, and can participate in a good debate. If you nitpicked your way to Debating glory however, you'll become the loudmouthed opinionated bitch/bastard. Been down that road folk- and trust me- the latter reputation isn't one you want.

4) The Setup is exactly who she/he is right now, and will never be anybody else.

Yes the setup is great according to his profile. He's so smart he can recite pi to the 500th digit. He's so handsome he melts the wings off canaries and so charismatic he charms maximum-security inmates with the force of his smile.

In fact, he'd be perfect IF ONLY HE'D CHANGE THESE 10 ASPECTS OF HIMSELF THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO MURDER BABIES AAAGGGHHH!!!

Well guess what: He won't change. Either accept him exactly as he is or bid him adieu. Trust your instincts- if those things that are peeving you off are doing so to such an extent that it could be a deal breaker, then you follow your instincts and say no. People who say "he can change" are talking out of their ass.

Simply put- ask yourself how much will you be willing to change for a person (and be honest in your reply). I think that answer will pretty quickly determine your final choice.

5) If your relationship with yourself isn't working, don't expect anything else to work either.

I know-- it sucks that this is true. But I've been down that road, and when stupid things happen in your life it's so tempting to beat up on yourself and ask a million questions about what you did wrong and suffer in exquisite agony and scream at the moon "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME WHY AM I SUCH A DEFECTIVE CLUMP OF CARBON MATTER!!!!!!"

Well I'll tell you right now: There's nothing wrong with you. Or, at least, there's nothing more wrong with you than any of the things wrong with me, or your set up, or any other human being roaming the earth.

So halt the self-inflicted suffering whenever you can (it's like a reflex, I know) and be kind to yourself. Loving, even. Think about how awesome you are. Take loving care of yourself. Because if you do, you'll get good at meeting your own needs -- and that'll be a massive help when it comes time to hearing out your setups, who may actually be a wonderful and nice guy you may throw over in your neurosis.

So those are my 5 rules. I know this is a long post- but I hope its given enough material for some proper follow up discussion. Bring it on- I'm cracking my knuckles in anticipation. And yes- I know a lot of you think why I even bother with these setups. Well you know what? Its easy to say that I want no part of the entire setup business, but refer to rule number 1-- its not about me now is it?

~deviousDiv

Father & Christmas

2011-12-22T16:19:00.002+08:00

My mum and my brother are away for the holidays so I'm at home with my daddy. Since we are quite without plans for the Christmas weekend, I decided to broach the subject with him today morning.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: Appa- shall we do something for Christmas? Maybe watch a movie?

Dad: Huh Christmas? We don't celebrate Christmas. Of course we'll no nothing la.

Me: Come on pa- its the weekend. It'll be nice just you and me.

Dad: .... thinks for a while... Okay lets go to Mustafa and get the grocery shopping done.

Me: ....... ummmm.....

Merry Christmas everyone- I will attempt to have fun at Mustafa and once I get out of there alive, I will offer thanks to the Christian gods for not burning me or my dad alive in that fire trap.

~deviousDiv

PS: If anyone, and I mean anyone wants to invite me to their Christmas shindig-- please please I will come. I don't even care if I have to come and sing frikken christmas carols and talk to Evangelical Christians all day long. Anything to get me out of Mustafa. *shudder*

Why do I have to marry Mummy? I didn't do anything wrong.

2011-12-14T11:27:00.001+08:00

Dear Mum, Dad and erstwhile members of my community,

Newsflash! Not all women are in a rush to get married, and make babies. Myself included.

I mean, I'm not completely clueless, and I do get it. Since I was born I was taught (by my own mother no less), that women are the nurturers, and the mothers. I'm often tasked with taking care of younger siblings, cousins, friends kids, helping out with housework, and frankly, I don't really mind all that.

But that doesn't mean I want that for myself. Immediately. I don't feel depressed because I'm single, on the contrary, I've never felt happier. Yet with the big 3-0 approaching, the frequency at which I'm getting inundated with the "so... when are you going to settle down and have babies" has increased quite rapidly. Its gone from once a month, to 2-3 times a day.

Gaaah!

I'm not saying I never want to get married, or start a family. I just want to live and build my own life before I settle down. And seriously why won't you just let us be great under our own light? Why have people stopped asking, "What's your next career move", or "When are you going to do your PhD?". Why has the status of my womb and my ring finger become the one thing that defines me?

And if I was to be completely honest with myself, why am I letting this get to me? Sometimes I feel like I'm still playing by someone else's rules, independence, feminism, economic stability and career be damned. I don't always look into my own heart to decide what I want to do, and am easily influenced and torn by what my parents want, or what my friends have achieved.

Which always makes me wonder... why is it okay for me to assert one way of life and never have the courage to follow through with it? Why am I wrapping up my motives, and my needs in clouded thinking, and buying into some archaic expectations imposed on me?

Over the past few weeks, I've been thinking a lot, having a clear hard look at the real choices available to me- to make those decisions which would be the best for me in the long run, rather than what's expected of me, or what I should be doing.

And from this latest bout self-reflection- I have decided that even if I do go ahead to get married, I'm going to give up the search for Mr. Right- that perfect someone.

I think I'm being practical-- I seem to have found were men whom I thought were Mr. Right, who turned out to be Mr. Wrong-in-so-many-ways. And that made me realize... even if I found Mr. Right, what's the guarantee that Mr. Right will continue to be Mr. Right after the instant gratification is over?

My inability to find this Mr. Right led me to suspect that he is just a figment of today's culture of instant gratification- find Mr. Right and be happy immediately.

So I've decided to set my sights on Mr. Good, the guy I have always neglected. He's the imperfect but good man, the one you may overlook at first, the one who you have to work hard to love, respect and grow with, so at the end of your life, you can look back at your relationship as an achievement, not an entitlement.

He's also the one who may forget to send you roses, but would hold you down when your shit gets rough. Am I lowering expectations? I don't think so. I think of it as setting myself a new challenge.

But then, there's that part of me, you know, the one that comes out after a couple of martinis. That part of me says, fuckall- who needs men and relationships... it sounds like too much work, and I'm happiest on my own, and I'm too pleased with myself to give a shit about someone else.

Increasingly, I find myself in agreement with my drunk-self. In Vino Veritas after all.

~deviousDiv

Post Modern Dates?

2011-12-13T17:51:00.000+08:00

I recently read this post by a fellow blogger- Renaissance Hippie.

"I like this particular game. Its very postmodern, hip. The dating equivalent of saying break-a-leg to an actor about to set foot on stage. Let's be modern, let's be incongruous. I give this serious thought. I'll probably cheat, I say, and hope you find out. This does seem most likely. She's too nice and I'm too cowardly. I could never bring myself to break up with her. Why the hell is she crying? It was a joke, I lie, I thought we were being postmodern."

While I do enjoy the irony of the blogger's writing- there's a part of me that runs away screaming at this little act of "push to see if she bleeds"

I suspect it's guilt- I do feel the urge to do that sometimes- push and punish people who are trying to get close to me, in a deliberate act of sabotage.

I especially feel that way towards the men who have tried to get too close, and tried to box me into their little square pegs. Its more subtle than than the cheating and resultant breakup, and if you time it right- not much will be hurt other than egos.

Sticks and Stones? I prefer the old Indian proverb-- "A Fire burn will heal fast, but a fiery tounge's burn will stay raw for a long time."

But there is a part of me that mourns the loss of that innocence from those first loves, where the person is perfect and your trust is absolute. Now? Its all about the body language, the mind games, and the resultant clusterfuck.

Seriously- I'm happier staying friends.

~deviousDiv

Hiding behind words? No More...

2011-11-29T11:51:00.002+08:00

I hide behind my words. Its true.
The thought popped out before I knew

I hide behind my words,
I make them dance and sing,
I make them laugh and cry,
So I don't have to.

I make my words say the things,
That would otherwise remain
Zipped tight behind my lips.

Words protect me,
Because without my words,
The silence, the white noise,
Deafens me.

I borrow the eloquence of language,
To mask the stilted, childlike voice inside,
To skew facts, to emphasise points,
That do not deserve it.

Yet within the loquaciousness of my words,
My truth spreads its claws to dig
Bleeding gouges into my lies,
Killing them effectively.

Without words,
The knots of my life are unraveled, uncensored
To pure emotion, to unvarnished truth.
To untainted innocence

~deviousDiv

Dear Christian Evangelist on the Bus

2011-11-25T10:57:00.001+08:00

But I don't want to hear it.

Dear Christian Evangelist on the Bus,

Yes I know I met you yesterday. And I met you today as well. Or rather, you woke me up from my pleasant snooze, to berate me for falling asleep during your sermon yesterday morning, while praising your god for giving me a 'second chance' to be 'saved'.

First things first Bus Evangelist, I am a Hindu. As is the case with most people of my religious belief, I esteem religion in general, and I am always free and open to talk about it. I am sincere, and non-judgmental towards your beliefs. I openly admire certain things that your people practice, including your disciplined adherence to ritual, and your emphasis on community work.

Is it too much to ask that you reciprocate the same respect? I understand that you are required to save souls under your own religious dogma. But that said- is:

Criticizing my faith and pointing out what you see as the worst aspects of it based on a cursory glance at cliff notes, crazy televangelists and suicide cults
Persistently nitpicking on points of theology where we clearly disagree (my Brahman, your Jesus)
Telling me that I should abandon my old way of life and social circles to embrace your way of life
Condescending to me
Informing me that I'm going to go to hell
Shoving random christian ideas into poorly understood, badly translated versions of Hindu scriptures
Expecting me to hold your hand and renounce my faith after your 15 minute pitch

the best way of going about it?

At the end of the day, my dear evangelist you may leave with a sense that you've won an argument by showing me how my religion and my beliefs are wrong, but you are definitely not winning this Hindu into your religious dogma.

And please don't mistake my silence as a sign that I'm even agreeing with what you said. My silence had its roots in shock and disgust. From your opening gambit, the frankly nausea inducing proclamation that Hindus worshiping on the banks of the Ganges are actually bathing in the sperm of Shiva to your assertion that Hindu idol worship is the root cause of poverty and disesase in India, and finally your tale of converting an entire village in Kal-nal-taa-ker (its Karnataka you ignorant boob) after a 5 minute sermon had crossed the line from offensive to farcical.

But for future reference, please don't approach me to chat if you want to convert me because I'm not interested. Because the next time, I'm going to say, "Yes I want to be saved-- take me to your church on Sunday"- take down your name and mobile number, and go straight to the Online Citizen. And the cops of course.

Or I may just give in to the dictates of my Dharma (divine law) and pitch you out of the window. What's one minor murder if it will create untold good for future generations of bus passengers?

At least my gods rewarded me for my forbearance, by having you get out of the bus some 10 stops before mine, allowing me to enjoy a 20 minute uninterrupted snooze. They also decided I was in need of a cosmic joke, and sent you to entertain me.

Hey Bhagvaan... I'm having a good laugh. Thank you. I will come to the temple and break 5 coconuts in your son's name. ;)

~deviousDiv

Ding Dong Bus Driver and other odd news.

2011-11-24T16:23:00.014+08:00

Today was an odd kind of day, dominated with all kinds of odd news.

Leading the way was the account from the frustrated bus commuter who encountered a bus 'captain' who was unable to speak any English beyond the words "Ding" and "Dong".

I wonder if the "Ding Dong" bus captain is related in any way to the 21 year old Iowa man who broke into a MacDonalds, made himself a burger, and let himself out, earning himself a rap sheet, and the embarrassing title of "Hamburgler".

In other news- an octopus decided to take a walk. It is now a Youtube star and making headlines around the world. Apparently- octopuses are deeply intellectual creatures, who constantly outwit their scientist captors.

One wonders that the octopus would have thought about Darth Vader claiming a plot of land in Ukraine to park his spaceship- and the fact that the news made it to the Reuters news ticker. He was of course asked to show his passport, and unmask himself for the registration purpose, but he did go on record to say that the "local deputies and the mayor have switched to the dark side... and that's why I have come for a plot of land to park my space cruiser."

In other news- a gynecologist in Germany used 'check ups' as an excuse to film nearly 3000 patients in compromising positions. The man had nearly 35,000 photographs in file, which led the German police to comment that their investigations will be thorough and protracted. One thing is for sure, there's definitely enough material here for a truly "Dirty Picture". ;)

But the oddest news of all- came via our beloved Dr. Vivian Balakrishnan, who seemed to think that suicide rates are linked to geography and ethnicity. How else do we interpret this? --"We do not have the highest suicide rate- in fact given our ethnic composition and our location as a nation, we are doing quite well." There is one other way to read his statement though- he's just trying to cover his ass and swing attention away from his failure to address flooding in Singapore. Well Dr. V, you aren't fooling me that's for sure.

~deviousDiv

The One that takes the prize for Lame Excuses.

2011-11-21T17:44:00.001+08:00

One smarty pants who decided to name his bar Aushwitz (that's not a typo btw- see the image above), commented to the media, "I picked 'Aushwitz' from a list of pub names I found off the Internet. I did not immediately associate the name with Auschwitz, which I knew was the name of a concentration camp." Yes of course love, your bar sounds like Auschwitz, and the spelling is one letter off, but NOOO one is going to mistake one for the other!

And so once again, we encounter the ugly face of the racist ideologies that exist in this country, and how little is done to educate children/adults about it. First- an idiot called a bus full of kindergartners "Terrorists in Training" and now, this fool shouts his anti-semitic views to the whole world by naming his business after one of the worst concentration camps in human history.

I've seen the type of 'racial harmony' education in schools! I recall being at the Mariamman temple a year ago, where a teacher was pointing out one of the deities (it was the statue of Aravaan), and explaining to a group of some 40 students that this was one of the "Hindu Demons", and that "Hindus practice a lot of demon worship".

People- this was my second such encounter of the racist kind, in the temple. Go figure.

It was one of the few times I truly lost my temper I must admit. But it was quite a spectacular crushing I had in store for the teacher. :D

So I walked and took my place at the back of the group, intently listening to the other nonsense she was spewing. When she noticed me, she asked me, "Yes what are you doing here?", to which I answered, "Listening to a non-Hindu woman teaching about the practices and beliefs of Hinduism. Its very fascinating, do continue."

She must have picked up on the sarcasm- because she asked me what my problem was. I, who had noticed the crucifix glinting around her neck by that time, said, "Well my problem is this- right now I feel the same way you'd feel if I walked into your church with these children and told them that people come to the Church to worship a ghost and celebrate the brutal and bloody murder of a man."

She turned an interesting shade of puce, and then blurted out, "Well what's wrong with what I said". I just told her that if she needed to ask- she's clearly not qualified to teach children about racial harmony, and Hinduism, and that I'd be writing to her school and the ministry about the matter of her blatant ignorance and passing along that ignorance to impressionable young children.

At this point- she challenged me to teach the class. So I did. I told them the story behind Aravaan, his role on the epic battle between good and evil, and what it teaches us. I told them that Aravan's story is also re-ennacted in Shadow puppet plays in Indonesia, and other parts of Southeast Asia.

I'd like to say the kids were enthralled- and quite a few of them were to be honest, especially when I spoke about the blood sacrifice, and the miracle that allowed Aravan's severed head to watch the war. But after the gory bits were over, most of them started to fidget. At which point I realized she could have said that Hindus turn into were-monkeys at night and eat tiger penises to become human again because they wouldn't have learned anything anyway.

Is it any wonder that people in this country pick up all these strange prejudices. They never listen in classes on racial harmony, and then they form half-baked ideas based on some half-arsed website or forum they read. Or on preconceived notions. Not that the classes are much help to be honest.

Either way everyone is screwed!

I wish racial harmony classes were more open and interactive, and spoke directly about prejudices-- brought them out to them open, examined them, and dismissed them for what they are- prejudice based on myths.

Since that's never going to happen... Sigh- all you unenlightened Singaporeans and Singapore residents.

Nevertheless, I'm not going to give up on my one woman crusade to educate these uneducated, idiotic masses- a Sisyphean task I admit, but not doing anything would make me angrier, and anger I've found, gives one unnecessary heartburn. ;)

~deviousDiv

I will meet you there

2011-11-18T11:47:00.000+08:00

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about
language, ideas, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense.

Rumi.

I don't want to ruin this with my words.

~deviousDiv

My Life's Mix-tape.

2011-11-17T18:49:00.001+08:00

I was feeling very nostalgic today because my Alarm decided to play Gloria's ubiqutous Feel the Rhythm to wake me up-- Oh eh-oh-eh! So I decided to compile the songs that remind me of key chapters in my life.

Yes- this is pretty much the mixtape of my life. :)

1. Another Day in Paradise- Phil Collins

"She calls out to the man on the street--'Sir can you help me'?". This song has always been a huge part of my childhood, triggering memories of vacations in Mumbai- and trying (and failing) to ignore the horrifying poverty and violence in the city around me. "Sir can you help me" always makes me visualize the ragged, starving young mother toting a malnourished child- knocking on the window of the car, or taxi I travelled in.

Is it any wonder I prefer to brave the crush of humanity on the Mumbai trains?

2. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds- The Beatles

This is a strange choice I know- but my dad loved to hum it at random times. This song triggers memories of attending parties as a child, and my memories of those gatherings always feel like I was in the land of glittering Lucies in the Sky with Diamonds, with giantesses in their silks and gold, and singing, dancing and laughing giants. The light used to glint of amber, blue and green hued bottles and glasses scattered on every flat surface. I later found out that this song was a not-so-subtle mnemonic of LSD, and composed when the Beatles were "tripping on the lights fantastic".

But before you start thinking I spent my childhood on Jack's beanstock, or in a Hippie Commune getting high on LSD, let me clarify that the giants in question were with my parents' friends, as seen by my shorter self- and the colorful glasses in question were their tipples of choice.

3. Promises- The Cranberries

It was this song, and not "Lucy" that made me a fan of rock. Its not a great song by any stretch of imagination, but when I was 13, The Cranberries released this album in time to comfort me as I reeled from the loss of close childhood friendships, and non-stop bullying in school. I used to play this on the family's portable CD player (remember those 50 pound boom boxes with the "D" batteries?), and make up increasingly bloody vengeance scenarios and escape into an alternative reality, where I was strong and nobody's victim.

In other words, my thirteen year old self was dreaming about being my 27 year old self. ;)

4. Stan- by Eminem

Another favorite song- Stan, from my favorite lyricist, Eminem. A symbolic choice- this was the song that made me pay attention to Rap, and poetry, and the beauty of the written word. When I heard it for the first time, I thought it was beautiful in its rage, and honesty. I was probably the only kid in my school that was listening to Eminem- everyone else was hung up on the Boy Bands. Eminem inspired me to spend much of misbegotten teenage years trying to write down the angst, anger and hurt in rhyming verse.

Naturally most of it was shit. ;)

5. Gimme Hope Jo'anna by Eddie Grant

This song always brings back warm memories of what I call my political awakening. It was 1998, and I had just read a book on Nelson Mandela, and the apartheid. (Yes I was a nerdy 14 year old) The only reason why the Apartheid really struck a chord with me was all the rampant racism I had to deal with as a kid. But apartheid wasn't the only issue that I was concerned about. All of a sudden- I was engaging in online (Internet Relay) debates on animal rights, pollution, eradicating nuclear energy and weapons, war, and of course, racisim.

I continued my debating into college- but I turned my focus on Socialism, Pacifism, and our beloved leaders' failures and success. These were quite possibly the best years of my life.

6. Twenty Something- Jamie Cullum

Ah the lovely early twenties- as a freshly minted NUS graduate full of eagerness, questions and big plans. :) I think the song speaks for itself. Who'd have thought finding that perfect job, and happiness would be such an arduous journey?

7. Fade by Staind

The 2nd dark chapter- when workplace bullies, stress and anger sent me into a downward spiral again. This time it felt worse, because I went from a high of confidence and happiness, into this dark, depressing hole- and shame about me being left behind while other friends moved ahead in their careers made me cut off from the world and keep the pain to myself.

This song is dark and depressing- but representative of what was pretty much the real Div- trapped inside- screaming to be set free. Is it any wonder I had it on replay for a very long time for much of 2008 and 2009?

8. The History of Everything- by Barenaked Ladies

I decided to overcome work bullies and other related depressions by doing the thing that made me so happy the first time around. So I went back to college to study- a Post Graduate Diploma, followed by my masters degree. I thought my bachelor's degree was fun, but it didn't have anything on the masters.

Is it any wonder I graduated near the top of my class? ;)

9. That Don't Impress me Much- Shania Twain

This is the no-brainer- and in reference to all the idiots I've met in the grand matchmaking experiment. They lyrics were practically written for the situation don't you think, "You think you're a genius, you drive me up the wall, you're a regular, original, a know-it-all. But That don't impress me much- don't get me wrong, I think you're alright- but that won't keep me woman in the middle of the night". ;)

Yeah- they didn't impress me... much.

10. Feelin Good- Nina Simone

So here I am right now- Freedom is mine- and I know how I feel- its a new dawn, a new world and a new life for me--- and I'm feeeeeling good. Plus it rocks that it was sung by a woman. Micheal Buble's version sounds like tepid tap water in comparison don't you think?

So what's in the mix tape of your life so far?

~deviousDiv

Family Gossip

2011-11-14T17:20:00.001+08:00

On a side note- I never realised how much it could hurt to find out that your own family has been gossipping about you to their friends and other family members. When I found out, it was like a kick to my gullet- and I literally couldn't breathe with the shock and the pain.

I always thought that families look out for each other. But I should have paid more attention to that line from that old Balu Mahendra film which went, "At least vultures only peck at you after you're dead. Relatives will start pecking at you from the first sign of weakness and eventually kill you with their words".

The irony is, my silence and refusal to talk about a rather painful experience to them ended up with them adding two and two, coming to 10 and making up such an amazing story that it literally took my breath away to hear it. Apparently, even my limited Public relations attempt to get my story out there was insufficient, because right now, I'm the family Diva, the demanding bitch who brought shame upon the family by breaking off the engagement.

Their strange compliance at my refusal to talk about my experience beyond the perfunctory statement of facts should have clued me in. They are usually very fond of digging for details.

In hindsight, remaining polite and withdrawn was not a good idea. It would have been better to take out a full page ad in the paper saying "I have heels that are higher than your dick is long" or some equally puerile sentiment, and just sent the clipping to these gossipy sonsofbitches. The resulting burst blood vessel in their brains would have rid the world of some truly purile human beings anyway.

You know what, I suspect the reason behind their purile reaction is this- I have essentially demonstrated, with my bad experience, that entire system of arranged marriage is fundamentally flawed and demeaning to their women. Quite naturally, the traditionalists in my family are upset at being showed up. If they were regular human beings, they may even feel some modicum of shame, at shoving their ridiculous belief system and expectations down my throat, but I doubt it.

Is it any wonder that they now resort to cheap insults and dirty tactics to defend their precious hypocrisy? So while I am frustrated, I make no apologies for taking the stand I have taken to date. I can play victim and cry, but honestly after the past month, I know that's not who I am. Not anymore at least. Neither am I going to censor my impulsive, and occassionally potty mouthed self from mentally composing another lengthy rant while watching XYZ maami get progressively drunk on campari soda at one of the customary family/friends gatherings.

After all- family gossip dies out when the next 'scandal' rears its head. Praying that happens soon though- being painted as a scarlett woman hurt more than I expected it would.

~deviousDiv

Ruined by my words

2011-11-14T15:21:00.003+08:00

Haven't we all felt this way sometimes? Writers, Painters, Photographers, Musical Geniuses, all of us who hear something amazing, who see something beyond this realm- but just can't get it out of us?

Lyrcisist Irshan Kamil captured the sentiment beautifully in the song, "Joh Bhi Mein, Kehna Chahoon". The version below is my translation from the original Hindi. To all the Hindi scholars here- forgive my poor translation- I've written it based on my very limited, self-taught understanding of the language.

Whatever I want to say,
Is ruined by my words..
my words..

Sometimes I feel that
There is magic in the whole world,
In things that are there and not there,
This wind, these clouds, the air, and these springs..
They all signal to me,
But how do I tell
their stories..

I have often thought,
That you, me, all of us are mirrors,
We see only ourselves,
I am not there alone,
Yet it feels like I am...
Right, wrong, yours, mine,
I will only find the answers,
In you.

Whatever I want to say,
Is ruined by my words..
my words..

It feels as if Irshan penned this as an epistle to his muse- that little voice inside his head that teaches him how to say those words to tell the world what he sees. I dedicate this to my muse, and my inner editor.

~deviousDiv

Eulogy to my dead friendships.

2011-11-14T11:59:00.003+08:00

Friendships are such a funny things. The way most sane people handle it? "I meet someone, and then I go with the flow, if they stick around, its great, if no- that's fine too. Drifting away is normal, and losing touch is commonplace."

But me, no- nothing has ever been so straightforward in my dysfunctional life. I have to obsess about friendships, losing them and finding them, and those nagging voices just won't accept 'the drifting apart' concept at face value. Immediately it starts sending darts of self-doubt. Suddenly, from happy, I would go into thinking that it had to be something I did. These little dramas play out in several ways.

1. In the first scenario, either a bad joke, or just ticking the person off causes the rift. Either way, my curtness, inappropriate humor, or brutal frankness ends up offending or scaring the person, driving a spoke into the heart of the friendship and killing it.

2. In the second scenario, a strange pause in the conversation, and then a quick subject change, on one too many occasions will get my neurosis going. Or when 3 page emails start dwindling down to one line. Suddenly, the friend in question has gone from being open and friendly to cold and distant. I'll end up spending the next few months micro-analyzing every pause, breath, comma and twitch in all our previous conversations. I will also obsessively email or contact the person in a last ditch attempt to save the drowning friendship. At the end of it, I'll feel like a prize fool for even bothering.

3. In the third scenario, a number of days pass where there’s no connection at all, and then I will talk to this friend. It’s rapid fire, but the falseness is so thick I can hardly wait to get off the phone or chat. All of a sudden it'll dawn on me that I and the friend have nothing at all in common. I suppose a similar thought process will dawn on the friend in question because things will go back to being quiet for a long time.

All of the above three scenarios are a pretty good indication that something has gone awry and yes there are ways to handle it in a less neurotic fashion. However, it just baffles me that people choose to let friendships just disappear or lapse without a word.

Don’t they have any idea the amount of wondering a person can do? Wondering is dangerous. When I start wondering too much, I can get dizzy and worse. And even trying to rebuild a fractured friendship is hard, especially if its still new. What happens if I make contact? Do they respond? Are there excuses? Are they believable? Legitimate? Then I'll start asking myself if I hold the friendship at the same level as before the long absence. If I'm told to my face that 'this isn't working out', I being to wonder if I’ve got a big “reject” stamp in the middle of your forehead when this happens.

And I HATE it when I'm given the 'It wasn't personal' excuse. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Do these clueless idiots even realize how insulting a statement that is? Do they realize that they're telling me the entire friendship wasn't personal to them? Because it sure as hell was *personal* to me, which is why I even got involved in this friendship.

I know this is maudlin, but I'd find it hard pressed to believe that you've never felt the same way. And no matter how we look at it- it is a vicious circle of hurt, guilt, and rejection. Clearly there's a need for some strong inner- re-engineering here.

Beginning with- STOP BEING SUCH A BLOODY DIVA D.div!

Pugalenthii Ramakrishnan, a Facebook Philosopher and a friend- put this on his profile today,

"Don't play the victim in the movie of your life. If your thoughts are worries are always centered around it, then the cosmos will just duplicate your intention and present you with situations where you are always the victim. Recognize all the stunning miracles in your life. You will be amazed. Make amendments to those who sincerely love and care for you with your thoughts and actions. Radiate Love! Always remember that no storm or tornado can damage the sky. Be Positive, Be Pro-active, Be Awesome. God Bless & Cheerz!"

And it seemed like there was my solution staring me in the face all along. I need to stop seeing myself as victim, as someone at the mercies of somebody's emotional acceptance or rejection. So going forward I'm setting guidelines to define acquaintance, friend, and the select few cherished friends. This prevents a lot of pain, and hopefully gives my friends something to aspire to, if they can tolerate me long enough.

It’s pretty simple really- I'm breaking them up into categories-- short-term, mid-term, long-term, and lifelong friendships. Each category will be treated with different expectations and rules.

1. Short-term friendships are those that last 6 months or less. (I can expand or reduce that amount of time as I see fit, of course.) In this amount of time, I'll spend time to determine if I have enough in common to go to the next level, and if no, I will just cut all ties and call it a learning experience. Because lets face it folk- too many people we come across will never make it past this stage. Maybe I'm really annoying, or boring, or unable to relate to people. Whatever. I'm not going to need an explanation anymore because I'm not going to open up and trust so freely anymore. That way the hurt is reduced significantly, along with the needless self-analysis and guilt.

2. Mid-term friendships are 1-4 years long. I think if anyone makes it past the short term, there’s a good chance we'll be friends for a long time – because that's when I will let my guard down and unbend enough to show you my underbelly... the uncensored, mischievous and somewhat naughty div who is mostly dysfunctional and quite devious when the occasion calls for it. If you make it to this stage, you're probably got a place in my heart. You'll get a Christmas card and a birthday present. I think its when friends leave at this point, it starts to smart a lot more, and here's where I'd want to know what I did, because I'd really not want to do that in the future. Really. Specifics are good. I think after a year, I'd merit the honesty. But going forward, I'm going to call these losses a lesson in self-improvement. I may cry a bit, but I'll move forward, with a new coat of tough.

3. Long-term friendships are 5-10 years long, usually these people know that I’m not good at communicating very well despite all early indications to the contrary. They'd know all the shit that happened in my life, including the bullying, the broken hearts and even my favorite cocktail. I appreciate them even more for knowing my slanted sense of humor equals love and affection, and my aloofness is merely a result of looking at my monitor for too long or being a little to self-introspective at times. I cry for them, with them, and sometimes, because of them. When a long term friendship ends, it’s like losing an arm. These people are IMPORTANT. They KNOW stuff about me, things that I don't share with just anybody, and I absolutely HAVE to know that if you disappear after that amount of time, what I did wrong. I definitely must have fucked up somewhere, for a long term friendship to vanish. Seriously. What did I say? What did I do? You can’t just get to this stage and exit stage left without leaving a note. These losses are heartbreaking, and sad, and mournful. But like any grief inducing event, I will come out of it a stronger person, and take the best moments of the friendship and cherish it.

4. Lifelong friendships – This is the gold standard of friendships, because these friends obviously never left. Beyond the stage of needing any explanation that life happens, these are the friends who are comfortable enough for just 2 calls a year (as long as she never forgets my birthday, and I never forget hers, we will always be sisters at heart). These are those wonderful, cozy, and loving friendships that you know will never end. I’m so glad I have these, because I truly cherish them. And I’m also very glad I haven’t mourned the loss of one of these friends, because that would only happen by death, and that would be so sad that I would be blogging through Kleenex. There would be no other way.

Yes I'm looking at you A. Ram, all the Flowerhood girls, the A-Team, the South African, Anita, Carmen, Nethia, and all the others who've been there when my shit got rough.

As for the rest that didn't make it to stage 4- well I'm not going to shed any more tears over them and move forward with the friends I've got. Because in all honesty, there really is nothing I have done that could be SO bad that I don’t even rate enough for a call, a chance for an apology, or even a song and message sent to me anonymously via a small brown box without a return address in the mailbox.

This is my eulogy to all my dead friendships. Now enough dwelling on the dead, I'm going to live!

And Ladies- time for some drinks?

~deviousDiv

~deviousDiv

That Happy Feeling

2011-11-11T17:11:00.000+08:00

You know what? I haven't been so stoked about a weekend for a very very long time for three key reasons:

1. My brother's exams are finally over today which means we can spend more time together doing things to drive our mother completely starkers. And we can finally watch a movie together- something we've been wanting to do for a very very long time.

2. I finalized my mad trip to Jaipur and Delhi next year (January 18th-27th) and got an amazing airfare deal via an Indian booking engine which gave me a USD 150 ticket to Delhi (return) and my Jaipur leg has also been booked for like US$20. Hello Jaipur Literature Festival- watch out because deviousDiv is coming for some major partying and fun.

3. I just realized that the Silk Smitha Biopic, the Dirty Picture is releasing soon, and I had my first listen to the music. Apparently the very hot Vidya Balan (arguably the hottest Tambrahm in movies today) will be half naked and that's enough to make someone as straight as me contemplated a bisexual lifestyle. Ooh La La Ooh La La tu hain meri fantasy... Besides, the amount of 80s tamil movie kitsch that I witnessed in a short 3 minute clip felt very nostalgic.

And the weekend is just beginning. Bring on the Rockstar (Ranbir Kapoor... sigh), the baking (of cream cheese frosted red velvet cupcakes) and the all round insanity (of a lunch party with family friends).

Overkill of excitement? Maybe. Is it wrong? HELL NO. I haven't felt so high without the aid of intoxicants for a long time, and I'm going to relish the feeling.

~deviousDiv

Love Apparently- Does Exist. But no one said its easy.

2011-11-08T23:27:00.000+08:00

One of my closest friends is getting married in December, in a fairy tale wedding. I am incredibly happy for her of course, a refrain I echoed several times (rather embarrassing for this dyed in the wool cynic) during her 'bachelorette' party over the weekend.

I couldn't help myself. I was that happy for her. :)

How could I feel anything but happy? My dear friend A has always been a romantic. She had a crush on her fiancee back in high school. He apparently followed up with a crush of his own when they were in university (I may be sketchy on the details so forgive me if I got this part wrong).

Their first date was held under the pretext of 'returning a thumbdrive', and since then they've dated faithfully for 5 years. It was not an easy relationship, with army postings, busy careers and real life often intruding, but those two crazy kids made it work before deciding to tie the knot last year.

When we jokingly asked her to list out things about her Fiancee that annoyed her, she thought for a long time before saying, "I really can't think of anything- he's perfect for me".

I tried to come up with a biting witticism for that, but all that came out of my mouth was 'awwww'.

In a time when love feels impossible, and I'm constantly being bombarded with messages of its demise, its definitely refreshing to have friends who are happily in love, and committing to love. It is all the more encouraging to see that they are with the people they've wished and prayed for all along, and not 'substitutes', or 'found on the internet' versions of what they really wanted, since there's always constant pressure and messages that 'time is running out' and the 'need to settle' (whatever that means).

While I, the axiomatic Single am constantly talking about the improbability of 'true love', there's a small part of me that feels hopeful when I view A and her happy ending. Clearly, while the concept eludes me, it does exist! So while my cynical self continues looking for alternatives to would-be fairy tale endings, I do allow a small corner of my heart to hope for similar happiness.

If I've learned anything over the past few months, its that happiness is something I'm personally responsible for. And while these past months have seen my focus shift on loving myself unapologetically and utterly... A and her fiancee have taught me that finding happiness with someone is a lot more than just checking a few boxes off a 'list', even if that list is key.

In fact, observing A and her beloved in action seemed to demonstrate that the entire concept of "Love" is an action, a choice that then leads to an emotion, especially since the both of them moved beyond their initial attraction and chose to see each other seriously, and committed themselves to a long term relationship.

A made me realize that while it is about the woozy feeling, its mostly about their decision to stay together after arguments, its about loosing precious sleep on weekends just so they can spend a precious hour together, and even turning down invitations to go elsewhere just so they can have time together.

And when I see those two, I know deep inside that this is a couple who'll see each other through the ups and downs in their life.

They've taught me that love is commitment.

In closing, I remain hopeful that love is possible for everyone, in all of its various manifestations. And while I don't really subscribe to the "someone for everyone" or "one true soul mate" schtick, I now feel that under the right circumstances, at the right time, with the right person, all kinds of things are possible.

And while I remain skeptical about the entire concept of marriage, and its suitability for me, I could not be more happy for A and the love she found and nurtured. So while she is sitting on the marriage alter, dressed in her beautiful silk saree, holding hands with her beloved and walking the seven steps that would bind them for 7 lifetimes, I will be on the sidelines, probably crying my eyes out, breathing in deep, and exhaling that her long and ardorous courtship is now at an end.

I'll also cheer to celebrate the beginning of her new journey walking beside her beloved.

~deviousDiv

Googles- Observations of a Delhi Boy

2011-11-03T16:50:00.000+08:00

Well ya ya Delhi Boy letter whatever it is old news.

This however, is a hidden gem!

With pearls of wisdom like "I think biggest thing which change character of person is one thing and one thing only - that is googles. It has many many names like Sunglass or Shades. I have seen so many people change after wearing googles. Studius boys become Aashiq Awara and Amrita Rao type girls think they are Amrita Arora types. Uncles become naughty at forty and Aunty becomes Didi only."

And descriptions like, "Im wearing tight t shirt (from Armani), faded jean (from Diesel) and shades (from Oakley). Im looking like John Abraham. I meet Pooja at Costa Coffee in DLF Place. She is wearing blue shorts and sleeveless yellow tshirt. She is looking like Parveen Babi (not fat one but thin one from Namak Halal movie). I look but I cant see any stretchmark. Im falling in love only."

If one ignores the automatic "Oh-Em-Gee the English Language" cringe there, this blog does elicit one snigger. Or 5. Especially if you too sense that the writer isn't writing in jest, but in all seriousness.

Well Delhi Boy- I envision a great future for you- and I hope you make it big as a Bollywood superstar.

Govinda is getting old after all. ;)

~deviousDiv

Honesty or Diplomacy? Are they mutually exclusive?

2011-11-02T11:27:00.000+08:00

I'm a terrible liar. But I'm no good with truth either. What the hell do I do?

When I got into scrapes as a devious child, I often lied to get out of them. Unfortunately, when I was asked about the incident later I would embellish it with more details, or change key facts. Why? Because I just couldn't remember what I had said the first time.

More often than not, my sharp parents used to catch me out, especially if the lie became really bad. Such incidents never ended well- usually with a well deserved caning for both the mischief and the lying, followed by a bath of tears, and muttered threats of murder and dismemberment.

Fast forward to today, and I still cannot lie convincingly. While there are people smart enough to lie and get away with it, I am not yet a member of that group. So for simplicity's sake, I stick to telling the truth.

In other words, a commonsense solution right? But then the truth in some cases is often the worst thing you can say.

When I wrote this for example- everyone and their pet dog had an opinion, and mostly negative. The post was circulated via email by some enterprising souls, and several others who got it took it upon themselves to write to my family, extracting bits of hyperbole and highlighting it as 'examples of moral corruption'.

I was asked to stop writing altogether as a result. It was an ultimatum. I naturally listend from one ear and chucked it out from the other.

In another incident- a gossiping old biddy took it upon herself to inform me that I had "deeply disappointed my parents because the wedding got called off". When I gave an honest explanation from my end, I was told off for being so frank, by the old biddy, and my family. Frankness, they said, is not a good trait in a young woman.

Oh and lets not even go down the "you must be demure and sweet with prospective grooms" lecture I have to listen to periodically from all kinds of randoms. Apparently- the foundation of a good relationship is to bleed all personality out of yourself and lie.

So being honest, and refreshing and myself also does not work- with labels of borderline psychotic, gossippy or downright vulgar applied to me.

No Lies? No Truths? Going forward- I'm going to take George Bernard Shaw's method, of taking the utmost trouble to find the right thing to say, and then to say it with the utmost levity.

Except- I may get told off for resorting to inappropriate humor.

Screw that. I'm just shutting up. But I won't be responsible for the damage I'll cause if someone comes up to me and comments on why "I've become so withdrawn and quiet".

However, if you think some gossipy hypocritical old biddies can scare me away from writing this blog- then by god you are wrong. In fact everytime I cite said biddies, I'll send them a copy, with the title, "Fuck you bitches", and hope that it scandalizes them so much that a blood vessel bursts in their brains.

With 7 billion people alive on this planet- the world could do with less people, especially hypocrites.

~deviousDiv

One Moment of Deep Blue Silence

2011-10-31T18:06:00.002+08:00

Photo Credit- Sujeet Kulkarni.

In my 27 years of existence,
I have lived in a pyre
Of restrictions, of emotional fires
Which burn in unabated violence.

Today is different.
No more heat,
No more pain,

Today I hear nothing but the rustling,
Of branches and leaves and the breeze,
Today, I am listening,
To the silence of the trees.

I hear only me, my breath, my heatbeat.
Humming to the buzz from the backstreet,
Staying absolutely still,

It takes Loneliness like this
To find me
And now I believe I exist
One thought,
One moment of Deep Blue silence,
Has set me free...

After 27 years.
I have found myself.
I am free...

~deviousDiv

PS: This entry was inspired by that beautiful photograph that my friend Sujeet took over Diwali, capturing that fleeting moment of happiness.

Is Big Bang Theory the new chocolate?

2011-10-31T10:58:00.003+08:00

We all have our own versions of comfort. Broken heart- bring out the Ben & Jerrys. Boss is a dipshit? Splurge on 1 for 1 martinis at Mortons. Exam was a bitch? Lay couch with a bag of Lays.
And Me? My short-term comfort utopia centers around four words: The Big Bang Theory.

Wait, what the hell deviousDiv? The Big Bang Theory? Holy Crap why are you watching a show that glorifies Physics nerds? This blogger must be a complete nerd herself!

Well damn you haters because you’re wrong. The Big Bang Theory is ~~probably one of~~ the best shows ever aired, and if you haven’t heard of it, then you’re either a member of a TV-less tribe in a tiny micronesian island, or part of a troop of humaniod apes that wear palm leaf loin cloths and live in the Bornean rainforest, stuck in a time warp from 6 million BC.

But for those of you in the know- who are still scratching your bums about watching-- here are my top 3 reasons why you should stop scratching and start watching.

1. Its Funny- Duh.

Even if you've never watched, you may have already heard about Dr. Sheldon Cooper, the infamous theoretical physicist and his bizzare OCD, narcissism, his penchant for hiding money in a Green Lantern figurine’s butt, his long and incomprehensible scientific explanations, his strange door knock (*3 knocks* Name! *3 knocks* Name! *3 knocks* Name!) and his bizzare facial tics. All that for just one character does seem like overkill but actor Jim Parsons does such a great job in making this ridiculous character a hoot and a half.

And for those who do know the show- I also have a soft spot for Dr. Rajesh Kuthrapalli, the particle astrophysicist with selective mutism which renders him unable to talk to women unless he's drunk on grasshoppers (a vile green concoction). Once properly lubricated, he lets his Chauvinistic asshole out, and goes around picking women up by calling himself a "Slumdog Millionare". The poor lad also juggles 'skype' sessions with his interfering parents who're always setting him up on dates with Mr & Mrs. So-and-So's daughter, all while listening to Hindi music that's always playing at his place.

Besides, you just can’t not laugh at a group of four nerd best friends who play Klingon Boggle for fun, visit the comic bookstore on a specially assigned day of the week, create a complex flowchart algorithm on how to make friends, and use illegal GPS mapping and start navigation charts to locate the hidden home of America's Next Top Models.

2. Their careers are far cooler than mine will ever be but its hard to feel jealous about it...

Have you ever watched shows like the "Mentalist" or "CSI" and thought with a pang of envy- "damn I wish I had that job" or "I wish I was *insert protagonist's name*?".

Well its pretty hard to feel that way about the particle astrophysicist, aerospace engineer, experimental physicist, and the theoretical physicist in that group of 4. Yes, one of them (Sheldon), graduated from college when he was 15! And the Aerospace Engineer works on the NASA space program. And the girlfriends Bernadette include a microbiologist and part-time waitress and Amy Farrah Fowler (who I call the “female Sheldon”) a neurobiologist (in reel and real life).

I feel more sympathy than envy, despite their cool jobs- because the show focuses on the characters' social awkwardness, work related failures (research that seems to go nowhere, and the space toilet that failed) all in a bid to make them more human and accessible.
Suddenly- the guys who work over at Nasa can't be that cool- if they're anything at all like Howard- the sex crazed MIT Aerospoace Engineer who lives at home with his mum. But their hot neighbour Penny, who's a waitress by day and aspiring actress by night seems beyond cool. Hooray for mediocrity!

3. Scratching is unhygenic.

Well I'm not going to go into details here- except to kindly inform you to go shower, and then get out of this website and go watch the show. My orders. ;)

And then come back here to report your favourite Sheldon one-liner.

~deviousDiv

The Key is in the Spin

2011-10-28T16:48:00.002+08:00

"As a marketing grad, masters, first class cum honors, ribbons, confetti etc, you should realize that the key is in the spin." ~ CY

Yes people- the parents have confirmed that the chase for a boy is on again. But now I have a new strategy.

By applying my 5 years+ of copy-writing talents to all 'matrimonial' advertisements and communications henceforth, I aim to do away with references to 'reading', 'listening to music', 'blogging' or 'watching TV', 'wheatish', 'average' because that's like saying I "breathe" or "have a pulse". Clearly, one cannot score any props with just these vague descriptors. It also attracts the bottom of the barrel types who are on the look out for the 'breathes and has a pulse and nothing else' type of wife.

Which I will clearly never be!

So my new tools will be particulars- the more exotic the better. For example, I don't just enjoy reading, but I "like the inherent mysticism and lyricism in the works of post-modern Indian women authors" and "enjoy the romanticist influences in modern Tamil poetry". I don't like to merely "listen to music", but "I am swept away by the breezy mix of the guitar with Nilgiri tribal ululations". I don't just do "photography" but "capture the bright, saturated beauty of Southeast Asian Flora and Fauna around my with my Canon EOS 600D".

You get the picture I'm sure, and the benefits which include:

1. Rising a few notches above 'breathing' and separating myself from the masses.

2. Scaring away most people, which according to CY's theory of natural reluctance, "eliminates the unadventurous". The added caveat is scaring away the chauvinistic pigs- who are unfortunately very prevalent in the pool.

3. Make a few acquaintances to use as backup for when I am in need of a sounding board to contemplate if I should tattoo "DysFunctional" on my bum, pierce my left eyebrow, or have 2 more shots of chinese moonshine.

4. Hopefully find a good man who will see through the farce and appreciate that at the heart of it, I just like to read, listen to music and take pictures.

Number 4 will be the one I'll marry naturally, if he'll have me. But hopefully he's many years away so I can have fun watching the parents go at it- again. Bonus points to moi if I find No. 4 without parental intervention just to prove that their method sucks.

~deviousDiv

8 Rules to Managing Indian Parents

2011-10-28T00:02:00.000+08:00

While I didn't have the wild parties this birthweek, I did have time to internalize, and come up with a plan to manage my relationship with my parents. I wish I had this wisdom when I was much younger as life would have been less complicated- so for those amongst you who are in my boat, this is for all intents and purposes- the defacto guide for 'Managing Indian Parents'.

Rule #1. Give up the “guilt.” It took me a while- but I finally realise that no one can “make” me feel guilty. I have finally accepted that it is easier accuse another of making us feel or do something than to take responsibility for our own feelings and actions. More often than not, my guilt is more a tug of war between my need for parental approval and my desire to not be the focus of their attention for whatever the reason. But more importantly, it has also been my way of avoiding taking action. In a way, I've always hid behind guilt for all the times I wasn't prepared to solve the underlying problems, whatever they were.

Rule #2. Give up the anger. Anger is cleansing up to a point. But beyond that its toxic, especially when it isn’t doing anything to change the situation. All it's been doing for me is making me feel bad. If I was to be absolutely brutal with myself, I'd say its even my way of distancing from any responsibility from a situation. The anger rule is critical to my relationship with my parents especially- because seeing them as being entirely at fault for what goes on between us only brings more distance and pain into an already fracturing relationship. Everyone has mummy or daddy issues- so Div- get the hell over it.

Rule #3. Take action. My third rule ties back to the first 2. So instead of going away guilty or mad, I am now focusing my energies on having clear discussions with my parents. I'm letting them know that I love them while establishing some boundaries- and seeing how this uneasy relationship can be repaired and taken forward.

Rule #4. Look at my part. This is the hardest realization I came to- but the bottom line is I have to be willing to look at whether I may be overreacting to anything that looks like control. After all- I know already that my self-esteem is shaky, so it only makes sense that I always need to be right to feel that I'm not wrong. In hindsight several opinions my parents have expressed I have misconstructed as harsh judgements, although in most cases it's a little bit of each. I have already asked them to change how they phrase things, but at their age, I doubt they're going to change much, so what I can do is change how I respond. So now, if I think I'm right about something, I won't be cowed or bullied or dragged into an arguement about it. I'll simply thank them for their input, tell them rationally what I think about it, and move on. In short- its okay to say No or disagree.

Rule #5. Be clear about what I will and won’t do. Cleaning the house, or doing the dishes might fit into my life, but agreeing to marry someone because they need to fulfill an arbitrary 'target' is unreasonable. So while I will honor them, I'm going to make sure I honor myself first.

Rule #6. Draw some boundaries around what they can influence and what they can't. There’s no need to be angry if the boundaries are drawn clearly. I simply will let them know that certain issues that pertain to my life are off limits and change the subject. I am now going to make a conscious decision and refuse to argue when they use lies, criticism, emotional blackmail or blame. I will instead stick to calmly stating my point and if they still want to fight, I'll leave that place. Being matter-of-fact instead of angry will definitely avoid feeding the argument. It will also give me that much needed patina of maturity that they feel is lacking.

Rule #7: Look for cooperation from the rest of the family. I know that my mom likes to play favorites between me and my brother, and she will show affection for the sibling she feels is in her good books. So the brotheroo and I have agreed that we won’t participate in this game anymore. If she says something negative about either one of us to the other, the agreement is we’ll tell her we aren’t going to bad-mouth each other and change the subject.

Rule #8- Build my own support system. Not everyone gets the family they think they deserve. I mean, if my parents were anything at all like me, they'd be raving hippies, not Victorian prudes. So going forward, my support system will be my good friends, my brother, my meaningful work, and a spiritual life and I will focus on developing these resources in your life to cut the dependence on getting emotionally fed from parents who don't really have it in them to give.

At this juncture- I must add that while I wish I came up with these rules on my own- the truth is it needed some insights from friends (Armchair Traveller, Mumbai Babe with cute Kid, A Sharma, Lady G), and family (Anita Satyajit) to lead me to the right path. So thank you ladies- for being there for me during the hardest year of my life, and bringing me up to a point of peace and happiness with your wisdom, and your comforting, non-judgemental ears.

And lastly- I want to mention Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev- whose commonsense wisdom has provided a clarity of thought that was missing all these years. I will end this with a nugget of wisdom from him- which seems appropriate in this situation:

"To love the person who is next to you is the biggest challenge."

~deviousDiv

Darkness- Just the Absence of Light

2011-10-25T01:46:00.000+08:00

Clearly, the gods were having their last laugh when they popped me out of my mother's womb on Diwali day 27 years ago. The latest year of my life was the most tumultous year yet, and a year that swung me between extreme happiness, complete darkness and peace.

Quite the approprate metaphor for the Diwali baby don't you think?

For those who are not in the know, the word "Diwali" comes from the Sanskrit word "Deepavali", which is
composed of two words - Deepa meaning Light and Avali meaning a Row. The row of lamps we light for the festival is symbolism for the path to light and truth on the darkest of nights (the new moon).

Now as is the case with several Hindu festivals, Diwali signifies many different things. In north India, Diwali
celebrates King Rama's return to Ayodhya and his coronation as king; in Gujarat, the festival honors the homecoming of Lakshmi the goddess of wealth, in Bengal they honor their mother goddess Kali and in Tamil Nadu, it commemorates Krishna's triumph over Naragasura the demon.

In short, Diwali signifies the renewal of life, and defeating darkness, evil, self-doubt and hatred.

So on Diwali day, which falls 2 days from now, I will offer thanks for getting this amazing chance to find myself, triumph over insane circumstances, and in the midst of all that, find my peace. And that's why I will be visiting the temple bright and early in the morning, lighting lamps, and wearing new clothes, taking comfort in these small rituals to celebrate a brand new, shinier, stronger and better me.

Happy Diwali everyone! I hope that you too find your triumph in the year ahead.

~deviousDiv

Do you call yourself a coward?

2011-10-18T04:10:00.000+08:00

Today, I looked at myself in the mirror, and called myself a coward. I was too cowardly to say it out aloud, so it came out in a harsh whisper.

COWARD.

Why? Because today I just nodded when I was informed that my failure to get engaged or married before my 27^th birthday is a major failure for my parents. According to them, they’re only asking me for this one small thing- so why can’t I be a better daughter and listen to them? And then I spent the next 2 hours feeling incredibly guilty for being a bad daughter and messing up the whole marriage thing.

Well it took about 2 hours for my inner voice to rear up and scream at me, “you’re letting them decide the course of your life now in your quest to be a ‘good daughter’?”

Have you ever faced a situation where you should have said something, or done something, but you chickened out at the last moment? Have you tried to justify your actions under the cloak of being ‘diplomatic’? Can you imagine spending every waking moment of your life doing this?

Welcome to my personal hell- it’s suffused with constant guilt, and failure over my lack of personal courage. I constantly regret not having done or said what needed to be done or said, spending too much time worrying about consequences.

My consequence? I now live a double life. In one life, I am a modern, freethinking individual, with strong views. I am intelligent, and while my accomplishments in my career and academic life are modest, I am proud of them. I love to party, I love to read, I love to write, and well I love my space. I have dreams of a jet-setting career, finding that soul mate, and even traveling to Africa to do social work.

And in another life, I am an obedient daughter who stays silent in the face of parental smack talk, and societal pressures. I live at home with my parents, not because I can’t afford it, but because I’m not allowed to move out. I have had to turn down opportunities to work abroad because my parents think working abroad is bad. My failure to do the laundry properly is a sign of a severe mental deficiency. Writing this blog is a dangerous pastime that will ruin my reputation.

But you know what- I have this double life because I allow it. I allow myself to be restricted by curfews, and rules, and constant insults and hurts. Yet balancing both lives is emotionally tiring, especially when they overlap. And having lived it for 26 years I want out.

Oddly, calling myself a coward felt liberating. An acknowledgement if you will, of the double life that I lead, the lies that have completely misaligned me, and the pain I now recognize. Acceptance they say is the first step towards recovery.

It has always been easy for me to write myself off as a wimp. It probably started when I was 13 and accused of stealing by a kid at school. Since I never said anything- and it was her word against my silence, I ended up spending the next 6 months having my bag checked on a daily basis for contraband. In case you were wondering, the girl never actually lost her stuff- she just thought it’ll be great fun to hide her stuff under my table, and accuse me of stealing it.

How did I know she did that? I saw it. But did I catch her out? Did I report her? Nope. I kept quiet. And so I spent the next 6 months having my bag examined daily for stolen goods.

Once I started seeing myself as a coward, and a victim, I just let more and more things be said to me, and allowed everything to scare me. I closed myself off emotionally, because it started to feel like I couldn’t take a risk with anything.

If the past month has taught me anything at all, it’s this. You can’t anticipate consequences, so it’s better to have the courage to open up and deal with the consequences yourself. At least that way you’re prepared.

So now I tell myself be brave - don't write yourself off as a coward.

In my case, courage is not about risking my life, but risking my 'identity' – my own sense of who I am, and who those around me think I am. It’s about being prepared to change the received 'definition' of who I am, what I want and what I am capable of.

And while this journey does seem rather trivial for many, to me it is an important step in the ‘work in progress’ that is deviousDiv that will mould her to become stronger, and a better person.

So in the closing I leave you with a few words from Eleanor Roosevelt, with the hope that it’ll inspire you to also look yourself in the mirror and mouth the one thing you want to change about yourself. While it is painful, it is also very very liberating.

“We gain strength, and courage, and confidence by each experience in which we really stop to look fear in the face… we must do that which we think we cannot!”

~deviousDiv

The Imprisonment that Could Have Been

2011-10-12T02:13:00.000+08:00

This blog post is a celebration of the imprisonment-that-could-have-been, the imprisonment in question being marriage.

I was engaged to marry a guy- who called it off over the weekend. I expected extreme pain, but honestly all I feel is empty. Emptied of all the sadness, confusion, stress, guilt and anger that being with the guy in question made me feel. Its a good kind of empty- that's waiting for happiness to flood the spaces left behind. An incredible lightness of being for those with a poetic bent (like me).

In case you are wondering- the engagement in question is not the get down on one knee and propose with a ring type of thing. Its a traditional arranged and matchmade thing, where parents introduce a guy and a girl, they go on 2 dates, and then are asked to decide if they want to spend the rest of their lives together. After the kids say yes, the parents plan an engagement ceremony, and wedding after that.

What the hell was I thinking???

But at the end of this rather painful journey, I've realised the reason why I've attracted all the wrong types of men is because of this 'Losers are welcome here because I think that's all I deserve' stain on my forehead, stemming from my own insecurities, and stunted sense of self worth. So now I am going to remove that stain once and for all by focusing on staying happy, positive and balanced. I've been in a relationship with myself for 26 years now, and I now realise its the most important relationship in my life- and one I'm going to work on.

As a friend of mine wisely commented,

Ever so frequently, in our desire to please people around us, we tend to lose ourselves and make the choices that we think would make them happy. Sometimes we fail to realize that to make people who matter to us happy is to make ourselves happy. If they really love and care about our happiness, they would support our choices because they would want us to be happy.

I've also concluded that matchmaking sucks big time and I've decided to call a halt to all future matchmaking for the forseeable future. I'm sure you'll agree with me, after going through:

- The guy who came with his entire family of 8 to review me in person: This was one of those 'traditional girl seeing' type of shindig, which is akin to buying the prize pig in the fair. I was made to parade in front of them, and speak meaningless platitudes. They stayed in a classy hotel and had several sumptuous meals at my family's expense, left, and didn't call back. We found out later that they didn't like me because I wasn't fair and thin enough.

- The guy whose dad did a mini job interview with me before deeming me unaccetable for his son because I wasn't qualified enough. As I am an MSc and the son in question an unimpressive BCom from a no-name university, I was tempted to ask the old man to define the qualifications in question, but I decided against it for my own sanity.

- The guy who turned up an hour and 15 minutes late for our meeting and spent the remaining 15 minutes talking about himself. This discussion focused on his car with a driver, his jet-setting career, and his overall pedigree. He mentioned some universities and expected me to be impressed, but I, who had stopped listening 20 seconds into his conversation, wasn't impressed at all. It smarted his ego the poor love. ;)

- The guy who really liked me, but wanted to do his MBA first and couldn't commit. Honestly, this guy was one of the best of the lot- because he was confident, clearly knew what he wanted, and when he decided to proceed with his MBA- had the guts to call us and let us know about it, rather than hiding behind his parents. And bonus points to him for being unfailingly polite and respectful to me and my parents.

- The guy who told me to try living with him for a month or two before he could decide. He was one of those ridiculously charming and easy to fall for types. But as we continued chatting he constantly undermined me with his sly digs and corrections which annoyed me incrementally until I blew up in a spectacular fashion, and sent him an incredibly 'girl power rah rah' email, signing it off with a curt 'I deserve better'. If you can't even get respect- how are you going to build anything else from the relationship?

- And finally the guy who said yes I like you lets get married, then spent the next month and a half putting ridiculously restrictive conditions and expectations on me, asked me to give up my career ambitions for him, and finally broke it off at a MacDonalds a month and a half later because he felt we wouldn't suit after listing a litany or things he found were wrong with me.

Don't you think its time I gave up? Because clearly the the tambrahm and iyer community has become inbred judging by the 'achupichus' (idiots) who seem to be all over the place. The genetic pool definintely needs more vigour, and mere thayir saadham and vadu maanga isn't going to provide it.

In hindsight, I should have just taken Mr. Come-live-with-me up on his offer because- after going through the process of being forced to make a life-changing decision based on 2 meetings, it actually makes the most sense. Of course it would have been on his expense and I may have killed him the process but hey-- just a thought. ;)

And come on folk? Who needs marriage anyway? Going forward, I'm going to travel to all the places I want to see and die a happy bunny.

Because an enlightened soul like mine should stay away from this messy emotional bullshit. :P

~deviousDiv

Indian Men & Their Contradictions

2011-09-22T02:34:00.000+08:00

After the insanity of the past 2 days, and dealing with over 50 hate comments on my blog, I'm beginning to question the contradiction, wrapped in a headache, that is the Indian Male.

I think my reaction is only normal, after being treated first hand to the kind of chauvinism that is still prevalent among a select proportion of the population. For those who haven't already heard, 2 irate netizens decided that their way of winning a debate was to pass personal comments, and insult women.

I agree that 2 people aren't representative of an entire gender, especially those 2 nutters. But when taken in context of my own encounters with Indian male chauvinism, I find myself wondering.

Hands up girls who've dealt with Indian men who think women who believe in Feminism conform to a certain type, which just happens to meet all the requirements for crazy? And tell me you've never heard an Indian man assert that women deserve to beaten and disciplined to conform to their values?

Do you know at least 1 Indian man who thinks that changing diapers, bathing and feeding children are a mother's responsibility? What about those who think household chores are a woman's work?

Yet India, the land of amazing contradictions that it is, has some of the world’s most progressive affirmative action policies. Long-standing reservations guarantee a proportion of university admissions and government posts to members of scheduled castes and tribes. Meanwhile, legislation recently passed by legislators seeks to add reserved spaces for women in parliament to their already guaranteed places in "gram panchayats," or town councils.

Clearly, the laws don't reflect an overall endorsement of women’s rights. That said however, there are plenty of sane, sensible and nice Indian men who support policies that promote equal rights for women.

To those guys- if you encounter rabid chauvinists, please feel free to beat them up. I will provide the torn slippers if you need them.

At the close of this saga, I reflect on these wise words,

"You'll encouter tons of idiots throughout your life, so when this happens, just remember the age old proverb, The dog barking towards the sun dosen't affect the sun one bit"

~deviousDiv

Sexism- and the Idiotic Indian Male

2011-09-21T17:31:00.000+08:00

Just for the reference of those 2 want-wits who commented on my blog- if you are unable to compete with my intellect, then stay silent.

Falling back on making vulgarity-laden, insulting personal comments only proves how incredibly ignorant you truly are. Comments like that can also get you thrown in jail for sexual harrassment, or have you never heard of the word?

Do us all a favour, and stop embarassing yourselves. The rest of the world already dosen't have a high opinion of Indians as it is, and people like you only make it worse for us.

In case you're wondering- no I won't be publishing your comments but I will be saving a copy of them for my records.

My rule is simple- if you want to get published, be polite and civil, and come to the point.

~deviousDiv

Welcome Back

2011-09-20T07:47:00.000+08:00

Caustic Yoda. You have been missed on this blog. I will take my time to reply your individual comments, but not now as I'm very riled up about something. For reference, see the post below this.

Now please excuse me while I go and pound my head against the nearest wall. And then compose a letter to the Director of IIM Kolkatta recommending compulsory grammar, spelling and referencing lessons for all their students. First though, I need to find his email address, then pour myself a patiala peg, after which I will compose said letter. Maybe I will write it in blood, mixed with alcohol for variety and dramatic effect. Its all about the pitch after all. ;)

~deviousDiv

Dear Metal Allergy- Try Reading

2011-09-20T00:56:00.000+08:00

Dear Metal Allergy Nishat,

I'm writing to you directly because I intend to speak my mind , especially after I read your comments and come-back to Broken Morning's Open Letter to a Delhi Boy. I don't know who Sahaana is, nor do I care. I challenge you to read this completely, and reply to it logically.

I noticed that you had said in your post, and I quote,

"South india never suffered & experienced the kind of plight & Fight which north india experienced during colonial ruleway back in early 19th century till mid 20th century.

You do realise that bringing in the north-south divide into India's freedom struggle only shows us that the British have indeed won their battle of "divide and conquer" which they tried to impose on during our freedom struggle?

How dare you presume that suffering under the colonials was unique to the north? The south of India has been raped by not just the british, but the French, the Dutch and the Portuguese, who were far more brutal (rapes, forced conversions, wars etc.) than the british.

And this?

“When Delhi was razed to the ground & was Ripped off of it's charm & Elegance by The British , When Punjab was Partitioned into Pakistan by British , your south india remained intact & was not even touched by them”

Now since you seem to need a history lesson, let me give you one. European traders first reached Indian shores with the arrival of the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama in 1498 at the port ofCalicut (That’s Kerala you noob), in search of the lucrative spice trade. And ever since then, the south has been forced to 'welcome' the Dutch, the French and finally the British.

But since you want to talk about razing,and war, and how the south was ‘untouched’ let me remind you that while the Mughals in the north so kindly signed over their kingdom the British in adrunken haze, us ‘southerners’ actually fought hard against the British, anddefended our motherland. Here are two wars you should have known, but clearly don't.

The Polygar Wars or Palayakarar Wars fought between the Polygars (Palayakarrars) of former Madurai Kingdom in Tamil Nadu and the British East India Company forcesbetween March 1799 to May 1802. TheBritish only won after carrying out a long and difficult protracted junglecampaign against the Polygar armies (attacking from the back in the dark likethe cowards they were) and finally defeated them, which made large part of Tamil Nadu fall under British control enabling them to get a strong hold in India.

The Anglo-Mysore Wars fought in India over the last three decades of the 18th century between the Kingdom of Mysore and the British East India Company, represented chiefly by the Madras Presidency. It took four wars to overthrow of the house of Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan (who was killed in the final war, in 1799), and the dismantlement of Mysore, which was to the benefit of the British and their allies.

And then you also said this:

"Can you cite me a name of even a single freedom fighter from CHENNAI who fought for freedom & is remembered by everyone till date. Stop thinking you dumbhead , coz there is no one!!! But i can cite you 100's of examples of freedom fighters from north india.”

Here's a simple equation. I don't know is NOT EQUAL to its not there.

Since you want to name drop, let me give you a couple of names. For your reference my dear under-informed 'Indian', even a 3rd or 4th generation Indian, living in Singapore, or Malaysia has heard about Veerapandi Kattabomman, a leader of the Polygars, Tipu Sultan, the brave leader of Mysore who died defending his land from the British, and of course Subramanian Bharathi,the great Indian freedom fighter and poet, who until his death, was one of the most active advocates of Swaraj and an India free of casteist and sexist discrimiation.

The fact that you, a native born and bred Indian, do not know of these people, or India’s history, only serves to demonstrate the depth of your ignorance. Baarathi, Tipu and Veerapandi are just scratching the surface of the the brave men and women who died defending their land in Kerala, Tamil Nadu andAndhara Pradesh. I don’t need to make a list for you- go google it yourself.

The south of India has been raped consistently by the colonials since Vasco de Gama ‘discovered’ India in 1498, and don’t you dare try to tell us that we were untouched by suffering during colonial rule. The whole of India was screwed over by the colonials, and it saddens me to see how you’ve forgotten that to peruse your ‘north is better argument’.

And before you cite me partition, yes the British shouldn’t have divided Punjab; but Punjabis shouldn’t have picked uptheir weapons to slay other Punjabis. The blood for that is on your own hands whether you like it or not.

Before you descend into another incoherent rant I'd like to leave you with a few lines from Baarathi:

"We shall not look at caste, or color or religion;all human beings in this land - whether they be those who preach the vedas orwho belong to other castes - are one"

~deviousDiv

PS: I read somewhere on your blogger profile that you'rean IIT engineer? Clearly the standard of the institution has fallen if they'retaking in idiots like you

Enlightenment & Bottle Friends

2011-09-15T19:49:00.000+08:00

My quest is now at an end- I have finally found a spiritual teacher who does not make me fall asleep!

I spent the 2nd half of Sunday afternoon listening to an amazing speech by a new age mystic- Sadhguru Jaggi Vasudev, whose approach to spiritualism is wry, unreverent and altogether fun. He weaves in funny stories, jokes, and questions that allow you to come to a place in your mind, where you start to question everything you knew or assumed about your existence.

But enough of that. This story is about alcohol. Yes- Sadhguru had written a memorable blog article, "Be Drunk all the Time" about using 'spiritual means to seek constant intoxication', proclaiming it as 'the cheaper, and more fun option'. Naturally tickled I posted this on my facebook wall- to see what kind of conversations it led to.

Here's the most memorable one, from my uncle. He wrote and I quote,

"Hmmph- most of these gurus they love to drink, but they call it "somarasa. Didn't you know that Swami Chinmayananda your father's maternal uncle, and my maternal uncle were all bottle friends during their younger days?"

Now I do not dare to speculate about the drinking or non-drinking habits of godmen and mystics, but I love how naughty stories like these have become such an integral part of my family's history.

~deviousDiv

Joan Lim, I wish you'd said this Lee Kuan Yew...

2011-09-08T23:28:00.000+08:00

Dear Joan Lim,

You have my deepest sympathies. And if you were in front of me, I'd hug you right now.

I'm so sorry that our beloved leader LKY decided that a spot of public humiliation and sexist condesncention was an acceptable response to a reasonable question.

For those who are wondering what I'm talking about, Joan Lim is the 27 year old PhD student asked a rather reasonable question about improving Singapore's social cohesion at the Ministerial forum that was held early this week. Our dear leader decided he didn't want to answer her question. But instead of politely declining the question, or honestly admitting that he wasn't sure what he can comment, he changed the subject completely by asking if she was married, in a relationship or single.

When she answered that she was single, the audience broke out into laughter. LKY then followed up with a pedantic speech on Singaporean women's responsibility to have babies.

Note however, that when a male PhD student came forward to ask a question, he wasn't asked to divulge details of his personal life.

Joan, I understand you're a nice girl, and therefore answered politely and truthfully. But I admit, it would have been hilarious and put the old man in his place of you'd replied instead,

"Mr. Lee, I don't need a boyfriend- especially if he's anything like you. If I need a fuckbuddy, I'll find one of Craiglist. Now if you're done with your chauvinistic rant, can we focus on the question? Or don't you know how to answer that?"

Honestly, its time people started actively vetting the old man- censorship board- instead of wasting time coming up with increasingly complicated movie classifications, it would behoove you to take a strong look at our beloved retired leaders and censor them instead!

~deviousDiv

A Family Lesson in Brevity

2011-09-06T15:57:00.000+08:00

One of my grand uncles was well known for his blunt ways, direct address- and utter disregard for niceties. He was naturally held up as a legend among the mischevious boys of my father's generation.

The story goes that the uncle came home to visit my great grand mother to pass on the news of a death in the extended family. Now normal people would address this carefully, with lots of posturing, hemming and a bit of drama before coming to the point right?

Not this uncle. He walks in, and greeted everyone with,

Cousin X is dead. Now where's the toilet?

~deviousDiv

Eye Drops

2011-08-29T22:24:00.000+08:00

My granduncles were quite grand. I had 5 of them (my grandmother's brothers) and all our family gatherings revolve around retellings of their very colourful lives.

The most memorable story involved 2 uncles, who decided to travel to visit the third. They bought some good single malt to share with their brother, but decided to break into the stash, and arrived at their destination quite sloshed, and with an almost empty bottle.

After all the formalities were observed, and the wife was away, the third grand uncle turns to his brothers and asks, "did you bring the goods"?

The two chaps looked at each other sheepishly and extracted the almost empty bottle. My witty 3rd granduncle took one look at it, snorted and said,

I asked for single malt to drink, not use as eyedrops.

It sounds so much funnier in the original Malayalam I assure you.

~deviousDiv

The Rule of the Double Negatives.

2011-08-29T19:44:00.000+08:00

The story goes that a linguistics professor from Oxford was giving a guest lecture in Columbia, where he explained that although there are many languages in which a double negative implies a positive, there is no language in which a double positive implies a negative.

He was interrupted by a Native New Yorker, who piped up dismissively from the audience, “Yeah, yeah.”

:D

~deviousDiv

Women and their Unrealistic Expectations

2011-08-25T00:47:00.000+08:00

I got an email entitiled "26 things a perfect guy would do" today.

WTF?

Naturally curious, and expecting some mischevious insights, I opened the email, only to find 26 saccharine suggestions. Here were the somewhat reasonable ones, but even these are what you'll expect in an 'ideal' man, that miraculous 'figment' of collective lieteray imagination. (Damn You Jane Austen)

Knows how to make you smile when you are down.

Sticks up for you, and respects your independence.

Never runs out of love.

Is funny, but knows how to be serious.

Smiles a lot.

Appreciates you

There were some things on the list which I didn't have an opinion on, like "gives you regular massages" or "takes you out on romantic dates", but some of the things on this list are so stupid- is it any wonder that men think women are unreasonable. Here are the 10 most ridiculous:

Try to secretly smell your hair, but in a way that you'll always notice.
-- Urm, if I spent the day before eating durian, or cooking trong smelling curry, my hair is not going to be pleasant to smell, and a wise man would stay far away, and hand me a bottle of shampoo. Not secretly smell my hair for eff's sake. *shudder*

Give you the remote control during the game.
-- Seriously girls? Do you honestly think a man is going to give up the remote when he's watching a game? If you can get one word out of him, it'll be a miracle, let alone the remote. Plus- I resent the implication that I wouldn't be watching the game alongside him. Sportsmen are so good looking you know. ;)

Come up behind you and put his arms around you.
-- If someone tried something like this with me, I may react like a rabid wolverine. I'm claustrophobic, from being trapped in a toilet with a pervert when I was a child. So no, I'd rather no one do that to me. I would punch the chap in the eye if he tried if I was in an exceptionally bad mood, or chide if I was in a more pleasant mood.

Play with your hair.
-- Once again, what's this obsession with the hair? Gaah and no thank you. My hair is a frizzy, tangled mess 99% of the time and I wouldn't enjoy combing out the tangles after the playing's done.

His hand always find yours.
-- This would make me feel like a small kid who can't cross the road without holding daddy's hand. Wrong.in.so.many.ways.

Be cute when he really wants something.
-- If a man went cute on me out of the blue, I may suspect he's up to no good, because I grew up with a devious little brother. Will he get his things done? I doubt it.

Sing, even if he can't.
-- Please no, as much as I love being serenaded to-- I can't tolerate something sung badly. Better to keep your silence. Its the curse of having an ear for music.

Stare at you.
-- Fights break out in Singapore for 'staring'- and I'm too Singaporean to not react in a paranoid way to being stared at. Its a bit creepy besides, don't you think?

Quit smoking, chewing, drinking, drugs, job, country- just because you said so, and he loves you that much
-- Its a good thing to give up bad habits like smoking, or excessive drinking etc, but to give it up at my say so? I don't think I can carry the guilt of taking someone away from his dreams, or habits for me. So yes, this peeves me. What's the guarantee that I won't be resented 3 years down the road for this?

What are your top peeves when it comes to unrealistic expectations imposed on women/men?

~deviousDiv

Now this is the Woman to emulate

2011-08-24T00:15:00.000+08:00

From Reuters today,

"A feisty 90-year-old German woman chased away three would-be burglars from her rural farmhouse with her cane, police said on Monday."

The amazing old bird, and a true role model for us girls don't you think?

~deviousDiv

PS: As tempting as it is to go on and on for this- sometimes news needs to be kept brief. :)

What are your hobbies?

2011-08-23T02:09:00.000+08:00

Between you and me, I hate the question "What are your hobbies" or "What are your interests" because every single time I get asked that I get tongue tied, and anxious. I might try to get rid of the question somehow with a dismissive "I'm pretty boring and don't do much" or give a vague reference to photography, but I prefer not to say anything because well-- I don't know the person enough. I'm reticient that way.

Whether we like it or not, revealing your hobbies do determine your overall social success within a social group. Generally, admitting a secret addiction to Chick-Lit would not go down well with the academics and the literati, as much as confessing a love for reading academic journals will get much interest from the hausfrau crowd. But that's arbitrary and obvious. I would venture to go as far as to say that some hobbies are seen in a better light on the whole, than others, and some hobbies get associated with various negative stereotypes. Like all stereotypes, they probably have some small element of truth to them, but they are mostly exaggerations and sheer ignorance.

Take my hobbies for example:

- Massive quantities of reading- and primarily fiction. Does that makes me a fluff? There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy, especially if said philosophy is shaped by reading dry, non-fiction tomes. Fiction helps your mind go free, and imagine- something that's at a premium in this day and age which tries to box us in with new-age business philosophies. Blue Ocean Strategy? I'd rather read the House of Blue Mangoes. Or an anthology of Coleridge- preferably in a comfortable reading nook, without breaking into discussions along the way.

- Blogging, and reading blogs, and commenting on them, and making up imaginary blog posts in my head. Yet another solitary hobby, but I make no apologies for this- writing carried me through the angst of my teens, and it continues to act as my sanity point now. My love affair with the written word is a long-standing and passionate one that started when my dad put "Beauty and Beast" in my hands at the age of 4.

- Photography- A recent love, that kicked off a second love for travel. Why? Because I recently discovered that a camera lens brings both beauty and ugliness out in Sharp relief. And once you've seen the world through the lens of a camera, you start to see the world for the beautiful place that it is, and seeking it becomes an addiction. Luckily, you don't need to chase rainbows in mythical places to find your fix, it may be in your own home at 5.11AM, when the first light from your neighbour's house shines through your door.

- Music- My Mum used to sing Phil Collins to me, as much as she sang her favourite Hindi songs, tamil songs, devotional songs and nursery rhymes when I was wee tot. Today, I'm always humming under my breath, or singing in the bathroom. And give me the right mix of beautiful poetry and stunning music, you'll have your song on my 'most played' playlist. But yes, I listen to music alone.

Do my rather solitary hobbies make me wierd? Or Anti-social? I don't think so. I enjoy 'hanging out' as much as the next person- I enjoy social activities, and multiple witnesses will testify to my ability to converse on any topic at length, at any time. But I define hobbies as something you do for yourself, for your own hedonistic pleasure, and well, I enjoy spending time with myself doing all of the above. After all I've lived with myself for 26 years and while our relationship has had ups and downs, its one that I'll continue to work on for the rest of my life.

And the next time anyone asks me the Hobbies question, I'm directing them to this link to clear the matter up once and for all.

So... what are your hobbies?

~deviousDiv

PS: This calls for a follow up post on interests don't you think?

Singapore Miracle? Really?

2011-08-11T18:07:00.000+08:00

Well with National Day just over and the Presidential elections heating up, Singapore has been on my mind a lot recently. Or more specifically, the Singapore Miracle, which claims that we have more U.S dollar-millionare households per capita than any other country in the world.

As much as it pains me to admit, being the hardcore blue shirts supporter that I am, under the stewardship of the PAP, Singapore has been steadily bringing in investments in financial services, shipping and even pharmaceutical research. And standards of living have gone up tremendously from 1960 to 2010- our GDP increased a whopping 41-fold, to 285 billion Singapore dollars, and we became the world’s second-busiest container port and fourth-largest financial center. And that's not forgetting that 3 of the world’s 6 strongest banks which are based in Singapore. All this was reported by a recent Bloomberg report, and well- I'm inclined to believe it.

So what went wrong from 2007-2011? How did so many Singaporeans get left behind, or left out of the Singapore miracle?

Could it be because of the non-singaporean workers and companies pouring into the 'easisest place on earth to do business' (The World Bank says this BTW, not me). After all, non-singaporeans (who are abt 1/3 of the country's population) and the influx of wealthy expatriates has been blamed for steep rise in housing prices and the fall in local wages.

But here's the clincher folks, rising prices, concerns over jobs aren't new concerns. What's new was that someone started listening, and that someone wasn't the incumbent government. With the PAP remaining unchallenged over the 40+ years it has been in power, they transformed Singapore's political system into a technocracy, where leaders were selected based on their percieved 'technical skills', or some form of 'meritocracy' and were expected to deliver solutions to societal problems. The electorate's views were not really taken into account, except as an abstract concept or feedback channel- an efficient system for sure, if it worked. Yet problems continued to escalate, as these 'leaders' missed out vital clues, and legitimate unhappiness among their electorate. How would they, if they weren't listening or paying atention in the first place?

I think Lee Hsien Loong finally got a clue- when he said during the swearing in ceremony in May,

"Singapore has entered a new phase in its political development. It is clear that Singaporeans do have significant concerns over both the substance of government policies and the way they are implemented. In implementation, our approach must be more flexible, thoughtful and compassionate.”

Going forward- Singapore's challenge will be to continue growing the "Singapore Miracle" by making the city-state attractive to investments, while making sure born-and-bred Singaporeans get a slice of the economic miracle. And that's a real uphill task if you ask me.

Do you think any of our politicans (white shirts and blue shirts) will be up to the task?

~deviousDiv

National Day- My Favourite Singaporean Cliche

2011-08-10T19:32:00.000+08:00

I have a guilty secret- Singapore’s National Day Parade is my favourite national cliché, and I watch it every year without fail on TV with my family.

Every year without fail, we will skip the standard 'indian gathering' at some crowded Indian restaurant, or dingy public park, citing work, study or illness while we cozy up in front of the TV to watch the parade. Home delivery, greasy pizza is a must.

That dosen't mean I'm all rainbows and hearts about it...

Often, I vacillate between cynicism and sentimental gushiness about the whole affair. This year's parade however left me with mixed feelings. On one hand- the very personal touch employed in this year's parade was a nice change. The theme itself, Majulah, the Singapore Spirit was different- incorporating the national anthem with the parade theme felt authentic.

The deal clincher in my view, was the non-metaphorical, simple storyline for this year's song and dance routine on a young boy growing up in a Singapore Kampong etc.). Ok it was sappy, and not particularly well done, but there were also elements of comedy (cross dressing carictures of the CMIO aunties, liberal use of Singlish in dialogue, dancing dimsums, ketupat, cricket bats and roti pratas) and the best part- no reference to the Japanese occupation. A nice nice change! :)

But there seems to be no running away from the ‘it-is-for-NDP-purposes-so-we-subconsciously-adopt-a-certain-register-appropriate-for-this-government-nation-building-initiative’, and so once again, all references and depictions of the "Singapore Spirit" were vague, culturally narrow-minded, inaccurate and so far away from the real Singapore Spirit and identity. For example, the organizers still think Indians= Roti Prata and Teh Tarikh, Malays=Ketupat and Otah and Chinese= Coolies.

If our National Day Parade was truly concerned about nation-building, then they have to face the huge fat elephant in the room – the gap between the Singapore of the establishment, and the Singapore of the people is just getting wider and wider with every passing National Day.

For example, there was not even one reference to this year's watershed elections, despite there being so much of material from it. Just one photo montage of the crowds from all the parties’ rallies would have been an excellent starting point to showcase the real Singaporean Spirit, rather than some vague philosophical and articial construct of the White Shirts.

Think enthusiastic Singaporeans trooping from one political rally to another to wave flags and placards, or Singaporeans reading and writing blogs on issues, or tweeting updates, or facebook liking their favourite candidates in the election, or even discussing the election and their hopes for the future government at kopitiams, taxis, pubs and living rooms. The spirit that saw Singaporeans snigger at the 'unofficial' national day songs, and other witty satire that's come to dominate the Singapore social scene.

Bottom line? The White shirts are already on thin ice in the Singaporen psyche- with so many Singaporeans loosing their trust in the establishment. As the gap between the Singapore of the establishment, and the Singapore of the people widens, the government will continue to loose ground, with more and more Singaporeans coming to believe that "the elitist government dosen't really understand ordinary Singaporeans".

NDP comm- next year, get Mr. Brown, Colin Goh and Mr. Miyagi to direct the parade entertainment. You may find interest surge to record numbers as a result.

Do you know what was my favourite part? The sight of the 6 blue shirts in the grand stand.

What is you favourite part of the NDP?

~deviousDiv

From 2004, "Aims of today's Feminists are Misguided"

2011-08-08T11:02:00.000+08:00

In 2004, I enjoyed being contrary for the sake of being contaray. I had just declared my Political Science major at university, and thought of myself as an 'intellectual elite'.

So when a columist in Today wrote an article on the irrelevance of Feiminism, I decided to write a letter in support of him. I recently found a copy of that letter online- I assume that a group of angry feminists at google are still archiving this as slow revenge, all building up to a final confrontation which will involve knife throwing, and forcibly ejecting me from the sisterhood.

Here's what I wrote,

"I do not support today's brand of feminism, which has lost its original aim... Paradoxically, the 'feminist brats' of today do nothing more than to reinforce negative gender stereotypes... In fact I think women's liberation has enslaved men."

OOps- it wasn't even well argued.

"It is acceptable for a woman to stay home, and wait for her husband to 'bring home the bacon'. It is also acceptable for women to work. In fact, I think women have more freedom of choice than men. After all, men can't wait for their wives to 'bring home the bacon', not without ridicule. Is it time for a 'men's liberation movement'? If feminism wanted to redefine the notion of being female, then men should have the right to redefine notions of manhood".

If I could talk to my younger, idealistic self that believed in a world of equality, I'll ask her this.

What would you have to say about a future employer of yours, who made you sign a clause that would fire you if you got pregnant in the first 3 months of your job.

How would you react, when you find out that some highly educated, professional women in your circle of friends were in abusive relationships.

Will you be strong enough to face the reality of being paraded like a commodity, to be judged and found to be lacking by men and families who will dismiss your 25 years of hard work and accomplishments over the color of your skin, and the leaness of your waist?

How will you face the nonstop pressures from your family, to be ready to drop your entire life and move away to marry someone, because you were getting too old and could become a potential burden to your parents?

Can you look yourself in the mirror one day, and choose between watching your child grow up and your career?

In a way, I wish I was still that idealistic young woman who saw the world in such absolutes.

What were you like in 2004?

~deviousDiv

5 years on- its no longer funny

2011-08-05T16:17:00.000+08:00

In 2007, I graduated from college, and my parents officially launched me into the 'marriage mart'. I was ripe for the picking, and ready.

At that time, I thought it was one big joke, and had strong views on the entire process, mostly leaning to the negative. But 5 years on, I'm not so sure if I can hold on to my convictions, and I’ve now started to look at my parents’ efforts with a touch less disdain.

Does this mean I'm giving up my grand romantic fantasy, and settling? Don't we all?

But cynicism aside- the past 5 years have changed me fundamentally. I'm no longer content to wait for 'luck' or 'the one', because I have no faith in miracles that aren't of my own creation. I've learnt, the very hard way, that life affords us no lucky breaks in this day and age, and success stems from sheer hard work, ambition, intellectual persuit and a clear sense of what we want out of life. At least, that seems to be the ideal approach to build a career, so logically this approach could aid us in the search for the 'one'?

Suddenly, the women who make 'lists' of expectations didn't seem so foolish anymore.

One of the first setups I agreed to took place a year ago. The man—I’ll call him Amar—worked in IT in Chennai and had lived there all his life. He came down with his parents to meet me and my family at my grandparents place in Trivandrum. We spoke for a long time about his work, his hobbies, and other trivialities for over an hour before his father interrupted and asked, “So, do you like him?”

This question always leaves me flummoxed—especially when posed mere minutes after first contact—I mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t know, uncle he seems nice, I guess. What about you Amar? What are you looking for?” Amar responded, ".......". His mother, grandmother, uncle and family driver all cornered me to ask me if I was going to marry their son. Pressured, I said yes.

They smiled, spoke amicably about wedding halls, ate the food I helped my grandma prepare, left, and never called back. 3rd party sources informed us that the boy didn't like the way I looked.

I felt violated. But that's material for a really long angsty post for another day.

In hindsight, maybe it all boils down to that common 'online-dating complaint' that people are nothing like their parent generated profiles. I was most certainly not the 'shy, pleasing' personality my parents painted me to be. And not Aishwarya Rai skinny, or gorgeous either.

Unfortunately, there are boys who are nothing but their 'profiles'. And some of these men resemble the parents spurring them on. One Sunday, I took a call from a gentleman who asked for Divya. After replying, “This is she,” the gentleman without preamble shot back, “What are your qualifications?” Thinking it was a recruiter, I said had a Marketing degree. “Marketing only?” he responded, “My son is a BE?” Annoyed, I flung back, "Yes, well I'm an MSc Marketing 1st Class." The offended silence on the other end was ominous, and was followed by a 30 minute lecture on the glories of the sainted son who works in Bangalore, has a car with a driver, and yadda yadda yadda. After all that, he asked me send him my CV, and '5-6 Photos' of myself so he could 'get a good guage of my character'. Errr...

You would think I'd have some common sense and reject this case outright? Nope... I agreed to meet his son. To cut a long story short, the apple dosen't fall too far from the tree in this case. The guy turned up an hour late for the proposed meeting, spent the remaining 15 minutes talking about himself, insulting my chosen career, and Singapore (don't ask). I took 30 seconds to put him in his place with my best "corporate bitch" personality, and told my father there was no way I was interested. Case closed right?

Nope- I had to endure lectures from my grandmother on 'how choosy I was' and 'how good cases like this are so rare'. Lucky for me, my dad was with me on this- the thought of having braggat and braggat junior as in-laws must have scared him. (Thank god.)

These days, I do have my limits. For the most part, though, I go and meet the men my parents have screened for me. And it is much the same as I imagine it must be for anyone in my position. So Ship Captain, Engineer, phone dates, skype dates, meetings for coffee, whatever bring it on.

Will anyone bite? Will I bite?

What was you experience with the arranged marriage?

deviousDiv

An Auspicious Reboot

2011-05-08T22:56:00.000+08:00

In case you were wondering, this blog isn't dead, or abandoned. It was just languishing, while I travelled to find myself, came back and found a new job, and survived through a family crisis. And today, the first day of Singapore's first-world parliament, I wish to restart this blog.

The Workers' Party's triumph over the PAP was a momentous one, and one that I am truly privileged to witness in my lifetime.

In 2005, Professor Bilveer Singh, my "Government and Politics of Singapore" professor, had predicted that the 2011 election was going to be the watershed one which may see a significant number of opposition politicians in power. I was naturally skeptical. I honestly visualize a Singapore where the opposition's voice couldn't be silenced by the PAP.

But here we are in 2011- the most historic General Election (GE) in Singapore's history. The worker's party, led by Mr. Low Thia Kiang captured the Aljunied Group Representation Constituency (GRC) and further cemented their stronghold in Hougang with a new candidate. The PAP saw their national vote share drop to 60.14%, the lowest mandate post-independence.

Key lessons learnt this election:

-> Singaporeans aren't so easily bought over by Local estate upgrading and beautification.

-> Singaporeans are now voting on ideological grounds, and to express dissatisfaction with the PAP's policies as a whole.

It is truly unfortunate that one of Singapore's most capable MPs, Foreign Minister George Yeo lost his seat in Parliament, while inept dinosaurs, and elitist assholes who shall not be named continue to make it in by the skin of their teeth.

My wish for 2016? The 6 seats should become 36.

:)

deviousDiv

Who Knew Relaxation was such hard work?

2010-08-20T20:57:00.000+08:00

Its veering between insanely hot and strangely chilly here in trivandrum, (due to bizzare rainy and shiny weather as the monsoon comes to the tail end) and its been nearly 2 weeks since I came here for my mandatory period of R&R.

I decided to sign up for one of those Ayurvedic detox programs, as part of the 'relaxation' game plan, and this has been surprisingly hard work. My day is been packed with massages from 7.30am to 8pm, after which I literally stumble to my uncle's home at night and collapse. I nearly backed out after my first massage, they are really painful, and I have an entire array of bruises from all the plomelling they gave me in usual 'stiff' places- i.e back, shoulders etc. etc. But the evening dhaara sessions (the one where they drip a mixture of herbs and water on your forehead) make up for the pain.

The only thing I really miss is using the computer. The ayurvedic experts mandated a strict no 'straining the eyes' policy as part of the 'relaxation package' (very evil in my opinion), so no computers, no television and no books. I'm breaking some rules here but 'I cannot tahan already la'. ;)

I'm breaking the rules in other ways too. I've been sneaking in The Hindu (a popular english language daily) and reading it religiously everyday. Its one of the newspapers that's so full of pompous windbaggery and a writing style that belongs in the previous century. It takes me the entire day to work out the complex and over-flowery writing styly, but the strange upside to all of this is that I know more than I ever wanted about Indian commodity prices, retailers fleecing consumers, the crazy monsoon rains, the union carbide disaster and other Indian things.

When I'm not reading, and the weather is tolerable, I'm out with my cheap camera, photographing the unfolding Onam season in Kerala. I'm still processing the photographs but I'll put them up when I have another moment of rebellion.

Now I have to run. My evening dhaara is waiting. :)

~deviousDiv

My NYC Reflections- A (Not So) Dysfunctional View

2010-08-07T15:37:00.000+08:00

OK I agree it has been a while since my last update and for that I do apologize. Writing my reflections about New York City, without starting with the sentence, “Frankly, NYC wasn’t impressive, and in too many ways a major let down; the dirt, the smoke, the crowd and the prices were depressing” was a far more daunting task than I had anticipated.

The fault lies with my overambitious desire to cover it all. I dutifully visited key neighborhoods, took a trip on the subway’s iconic No. 4 train, got off at grand central station and tried to admire it. I walked down the crowded and filthy Times Square, tried to muster enthusiasm for Madison Square Garden, and the rather mouldy looking statue of Liberty. I walked down the newly gentrified SoHo, with its endless line familiar generic shops and what seemed like 50 starbucks. I stood outside NYU. I visited chi-chi restaurants like Nobu (really overpriced Japanese food) and bought over-salty pretzels (enough to make your lips burn) from a street vendor. I think the final straw was rattling along the Brooklyn bridge one rainy afternoon. Engineering marvel my arse

That’s when I threw out the travel guide and went went "Tip Whoring"; something I should have done a long time ago, given that I staying with my cousin in an apartment in the downtown area.

On the 4th morning, I walked down the rather messy side lanes near my cousin’s matchbox apartment to the little Turkish café where the owner with his handlebar mustache let me try his gazpacho soup. I ended up buying a cup of that stuff everyday for the next 5 days for friendly Mr. Turkey’s travel tips. I also spent more time at the Dunkin Donuts at the street corner chatting with the Gujerati owner who gave me free donuts and travel tips. I bagged travel tips from well meaning strangers on the subway, from my cousins, my cousin’s gay boss and even the 2nd hand book seller where I bought cheap paperbacks for 50 cents.

Armed with these tips, I set out to explore New York City again, and not in the manner of a tourist pasha, but like regular a New Yorker digesting the city, one memory at a time. I stepped into St. Pauls cathedral, and sat at the pew where a woman on a subway said she and her fireman husband came to pray and heal after 9-11. I walked into a kooky little bookstore to buy Shakespeare manga comics, on the advise of a brilliant street thespian. I even had blood orange frozen margaritas at a fantastic Mexican bar/restaurant in the South Street Seaport following the advise of a bare-chested Abercrombie boy.

Its tempting to ramble on in this fashion, but a list is more logical. So here are my favourite memories from the great city:

1. New York City at Twilight

Don’t berate me. I know the empire state is a tourist trap, but the tip to ‘go see it at twilight’ was given to me by my bookseller. He said I should have a handsome man with me, as it would promt him to propose. I cheekily asked the octogenarian if he would accompany me. After a quick laugh, I jotted it down in my trusty tips book, and went that evening at 6pm. I think the 1 hr queue was worth it no?

2. Malachy J. Murray

Arguably the best tour guide in NYC, this Irish American led the circle line cruise I decided to take acting on Mr. Patil’s advise. (The Dunkin Donut man). If you’re in NYC for the first time, and have a tight budget, time to kill and want to see everything, the circle line is for you. When they say they’ll take you around the entire island, they’re not kidding. Malachy is as unique as his version of New York is, and his tours are loaded with brief nuggets of historical gems for every rock, building, and clump of weeds you’ll see along the way, but his brash wit and charm mean you'll forgive his nonstop chatter for its sheer entertainment value. I believe he's written a book about New York, which is available on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/MALACHY-MURRAYS-UNIQUE-NEW-YORK/dp/0979469104

3. The Old Croton Aqueduct

This was an “OMG” moment for me, and I half expected to see Edgar Allan Poe walking across the high bridge. Words from one of my personal favourites, The Imp of the Perverse," kept echoing through my overexcited mind. A Poe haunting perhaps? But that dark tale about the perversity of human nature that drives one to commit horrifying acts must surely have been inspired in part by Poe's crossings of the High Bridge, which was at least a 100 feet above the water!

4. Bridge, Rock, Green & Graffiti

I’d like to think that this odd combination is NYC- part engineering marvel, part natural wonder, overflowing with pristine greenery with a pinch of rebel. I took this during the circle line cruise.

5. Columbia University’s C Rock

Apparently, the athletes of the Columbia University (dispute over whether it’s the rowing team or the climbing team) maintain the "C Rock", a large Columbia varsity "C" painted on a rock face along the tracks used by Metro-North Railroad. I find it hilarious because I pictured a dear friend of mine hanging on that rock face doing a touch up. :P

6. GED Funding Protest

The immigrants were out in full force, to protest and fight for what they believe is their basic right. And because I am brown, I was invited to join the protest. I pretended to be a journalist, and was allowed as many pictures as I wanted. I also went out for a coffee with the protest leader, and we discussed racism around the world. I assured her that open dialogue and a willingness to accept there’s a problem puts America miles ahead of my part of the world. She sympathized.

7. The Time Travelling Jazz Singer

Isn’t she pretty? She was the singer of an amazing Jazz band at the Garage Restaurant and Cafe along Greenwich. This timeless diva had a whispery voice that was as smooth and husky as the finest Single malt. Too bad photographs can’t capture voices.

8. The Multi-Colored Buildings along E25 Street.

This is nothing special, but this row of sepia toned brick and concrete buildings along E25 street was where I first discerned the city’s soul, a feeling I would define with Orhan Pamuk's words as a ‘collective nostalgia for the vanishing, crumbling past’. Since I had the epiphany here, it had to be photographed for posterity. Followed by an ice-cold beer to celebrate at the bar I was standing outside while taking this photograph.

9. The Pepsi Cola Sign- taken from the Circle Line Cruise

I openly admit to being a fan of Julie/Julia, the book and the movie. (Even though its graphic descriptions put me off eating for a while). I squinted hard at the sign, with the vain hope of catching either Amy Adams, or Julie Powell walking by. The iconic glass bottle also brought back happy childhood memories of chugging ice cold pepsi cola with my cousins during family vacations.

10. Grand Old Hotel- name not important.

This was one of the many over the top and ostentatious buildings that one encounters in the city. It stood out, because it was being overshadowed by a non-descript brick building across the street. The play of light and shadow gave this building a sinister cast, and in a flight of fancy, I half hoped Batman would jump out of one of the shadowed windows.

11. A New Jersey Sunset.

This isn’t exactly New York city, but I was on my way out of the city to visit my aunty in New Jersey. While traveling along the highway, I was treated to this magnificent sunset. Like everything else American, it was over-the-top. Those yellows are no camera trick.

In a nutshell, NYC is a city of contradictions. Gritty and Glamorous. Secular and Devout. Antique and Brand New. It was overwhelming, with its magnificent churches, opulent skyscrapers, plethora of parks standing side by side with horrible traffic jams, narrow, potholed streets, and a subway system that hasn’t been cleaned in a 100 years. I hated her filth and crumbling exterior, but I loved her heart. I loved the brisk scent of hope, that underlay the city’s signature perfume of exhaust fumes, stale subway air, and something frying. It was a city to fall in love with, and fall in love in.

I had the best time of my life, and I definitely want to go back. Do you want to join me?

~deviousDiv

PS: I’m posting this from India, where I’m enjoying a long overdue period of R&R. The photographs are all mine, so if you want to use them, drop me an email so I can mail you the higher resolution images.

Plans for NYC

2010-05-15T14:42:00.000+08:00

I'd like to think I'm a traveller. But when it comes to my NYC plans, I'm just unable to look beyond my shopping list.

I'm in deep trouble, because my NYC iterenary is just a list of shops, and my agenda is basically a shopping list.

Is this a sign of my own descent into the dark side of consumer culture? Or is this the NYC value proposition?

I know now why I never put cities on my usual travel iternary.

Hmm... I suppose i really need to sit down and research NYC if I want to have fun.

~deviousDiv

Making Shrunken Heads- A Page in the Completely Useless Information File

2010-04-18T21:15:00.000+08:00

Since this is a blog of DysFunctional Wisdom, I thought an inspirational piece on shrunken heads was appropos. I can name at least 2 people (in my current and soon to be ex company) whose heads I would like to shrink using the below process:

After attacking the enemy, the victim or victims were killed and immediately decapitated by the victorious Jivaro Indians (a tribe in Ecuador). Sometimes the decapitation process occurred while the victim was still alive. The head is cut off below the neck, and a section of the skin from the chest and back is taken with it. The head shrinking process occurred in the following way:

A slit is made in the neck and up the back of the head, allowing the skin and hair to be carefully peeled from the skull. The skull is then discarded into the river and left as a gift to the pani, the anaconda.

Carefully, the eyes are sewn shut . The lips are closed and skewered with little wooden pegs, which are later removed and replaced with dangling strings. From here the tsantsa goes to the sacred boiling pots or cooking jars. The head is simmered for approximately an hour and a half to two hours. If the heads were left for any longer, the hair would have fallen out. On removal from the pots, the skin is dark and rubbery, and the head is about 1/3 its original size. The skin is turned inside out and all the flesh adhering is scraped off with a knife. The scraped skin is then turned right side out and the slit in the rear is sewn together. What remains is similar to that of an empty rubber glove.

The final shrinking is done with hot stones and sand collected nearby in order to sear the interior and to shrink the head further. These stones are dropped one at a time through the neck opening and constantly rotated inside to prevent scorching. When the skin becomes too small for the stones to be rolled around within the head, sand is heated in a food bowl and substituted for the stones. The sand enters the crevices of the nose and ears, where the stones could not reach. This process is repeated frequently. Hot stones are later applied to the exterior of the face to seal and shape the features. Surplus hair is singed off and the finished product hung over a fire to harden and blacken. A heated machete is applied to the lips to dry them. Following this procedure, the three chonta are put through the lips and the lips are then lashed together with string.

This entire process would last for approximately one week, with the head being worked on daily while en route back to their own village. The last day of work on the trophy is spent in a forest a few hours away from their village where the first tsantsa celebration will take place. Here, the warriors will make a hole in the top of the head and a double kumai is inserted and tied to a shirt stick of chonta palm on the inside, so that the head can be worn around the warrior's neck.

The Jivaro Indians were preoccupied with realism, which is clearly shown in the careful preparation of the head. Due to the meticulousness of the tribesmen, the warrior tries to prepare the tsantsa with utmost care in order to maintain the original likeness of a the slain victim's face.

Oh and if you're curious to see the live demo, here's a video of the process I found on Youtube. Let's just say it isn't for the squeamish:

On second thought, I don't really want to look at the shrunken heads of my worst enemies. I'm sure the process might generate indigestion, or violent nausea. But the process is morbidly fascinating, and will be filed in my ever-growing file of completely useless information, which includes details like:

"There could be no more English Willow bats for the Cricket sport because of a EU directive banning Methyl Bromide, the insecticide used to treat the English Willow"

"Adelie Penguins in Antarctica have their own prostitution racket, with stones as the main currency"

...and many others...

;) Yes I know I'm such a geek.

~deviousDiv

The Wierdo Magnet

2010-04-17T17:01:00.000+08:00

I have a question.

Do I have a tattoo on my forehead that I can't see? One that says, "If you're schizophrenic, and think your husband is having an affair, I'm probably his mistress."

Four times. FOUR TIMES I've been subjected to this nonsense by women who weren't quite alright up there. And the latest encounter was yesterday.

I was walking around Parkway Parade after lunch, when I saw a woman walking up to me with great purpose. I sped up, not wanting an encounter with her. But she's a wily one. When I thought I lost her by ducking into Isetan's many clothes racks, I felt her bony fingers clasp my wrist hard.

And the madness began.

Mad Woman (MW): Hi I'm conducting a research.
ME: Find someone else.
MW: Its very important, come with me.
(MW drags me towards 2 women browsing for bras)
MW: Hi, I'm doing some research.
2 Bra Women: Errrr.... ok.
MW: Who is prettier, she or me?
2 Bra Women: Errrr
MW: Who is fairer, she or me?
2 Bra Women: Ahmm
MW: Who is thinner, she or me?
1 of the Bra Women suddenly remembers she has an appointment and they both dash off.

In the mean time, I'm trying to let go of my hand but the bitch uses her nails and starts digging in. Stuck there, and unwilling to punch her, I very nearly had to go through that again. Lucky for me, one of my colleagues spotted me and came towards us, asking loudly, "Div, is that your mum? She's really pretty."

Satisfied that she was prettier than me, she let go of my wrist. Finally.

Did I mention I don't know WHO THE BLOODY HELL SHE IS? And this is the 3rd time she's cornered me like this? The first time it happened, I was in the Giant supermarket buying coffee. The second time it happened I was in Borders. And all three times, she asked the exact same question. What the hell does she aim to accomplish by proving she's prettier than I am?

But the Parkway Parade Mad Woman has nothing on the Insane White Woman who cornered me in Holland Village. In hindsight, i realize I probably deserved that encounter, for poking my nose in something that was clearly NONE OF MY DAMN BUSINESS.

At approximately 6PM, I was coming out of the Holland Village Starbucks, after sitting in for 6 hours and completing a research paper that was due in 2 days time. When I stepped outside onto the five-foot way I came across this furious white woman yelling at 2 school girls, who were cowering and whimpering. Since I was 21 at that time, and stupid, I let my hero complex take over. I stepped up and asked (quite politely mind you), "Ma'am, is there a problem, can I help?"

Do you know how things slow down and flash in technicolour when the shit is about to hit the fan? I remember her stringy blonde hair catching the light of the sun, and her tea colored eyes flashing with some internal insanity very clearly. And when she opened her mouth, I clearly recall jewel bright drops of spittle flying.

To cut a long story short, she began a screaming monologue, where she called me a "Effing Slut", who "Stole my husband that D!ck". She then proceeded to call my mother, grandmother and all my ancestors "Sex Starved Animals", and offered her opinion on "You hump like monkeys all the time and then fucking complain that India has a population problem". After calling me other polite terms like "C**t" and "Freak", she paused for breath.

Frozen there in fright, I was unable to move. Luckily, her husband arrived and bundled her into a waiting car. I think he saw me giving him the evil eye so he hastily apologized, and offered to drop me somewhere.

You can imagine what I said to that offer.

*Shudder*

I guess I just have to resign myself to the fact that I am a weirdo magnet.

Urgh.

~deviousDiv

Div isn't Dead, Just Regrouping

2010-04-17T15:52:00.000+08:00

I know its been a long time since I did my last post, and when CY gets concerned its time to come out of hiding. (No offense CY)

Plenty has been going on with my life since my previous post. Like:

1. I Fired my boss.
2. I'm 75% done with my Masters Degree
3. I'm going to NYC.
4. I hacked off all my hair and got a bob.

There are other things in this list that I can add on to, but there are so many other interesting tales I have to tell. So...

Watch out for updates coming soon.

~deviousDiv

Caustic Yoda is Planning a Major Rant on Irritating Ads

2010-01-12T23:28:00.000+08:00

So here's my contribution to his list.

1. Mocca Man Sells His House

2. Bizzare Tiger Beer Ad Involving Zips

3. When a Lemon Falls in Love with a Blackcurrant, and does a Bollywood Style Dance.

4. M1's poor attempt at Indian Accents.

5. When Companies Think they're Smarter than Ad Agency Creatives this is what you get.

6. Anything, Whatever. Just.KILL.Me.NOW

7. Phua Chu Kang + the Ministry of Health + SARS Epidemic

8. Oooooohrchard Road

~deviousDiv

Just When You Thought Heineken Ads Couldn't Get Any Funnier

2010-01-11T22:57:00.000+08:00

;)

~deviousDiv

In Flight Entertainment- BUDGET STYLE

2010-01-05T22:52:00.000+08:00

So here is the long promised update on my travels. Or the first part of it. It was a pain trying to decipher what I'd scrawled into my notebook, thus delay in posting.

When I wrapped up my previous post, I was still waiting to board the aircraft, and had just logged off the free internet terminal. Since there is only so many times one can look longingly at the Gucci, Prada and 'Thanni' (alcohol) shops, I decided it was time to go towards the boarding gate. I was also itching to crack open the ridiculous gold and velvet notebook I bought to commemorate my travels.

So after the usual frisk, and complaint (from my mum about indecent touches), I settled down for a while, pulled out my book and thought about what to write. After spending 10 minutes writing the date, and doodling curly vines around it, I decided to people watch.

Or rather, I was forced into it, by a 2 year old toddler, who fancied herself to be a T-Rex, and me to be her prey. At least that's what I thought she was doing when she lunged at me and growled as only a 2 year old can growl. When I tried to ruffle her hair, she lunged back and growled some more. Then she topped it off with a ear-splitting shriek. She treated 4 other passengers to her T-Rex treatment, before deciding she had enough, and dashed out of the holding area. She cleared 2 levels of security, and managed to run outside the gate and right into a group of Japanese tourists. The security trolls were either too blind to notice, or just didn't care.

I think it was the latter, because when the child's father tried to dash out after her, he had to produce his passport, boarding pass and a lengthy explanation. Lucky for him, little Ms. T-Rex was being entertained by the Japanese tourists, who were in turn entertained by her. A hundred photographs and a couple of growls later, little Ms. T-Rex was back in the holding room, trying to do the Limbo rock in her father's arms. My dad who was quite amused by the situation, commented to the father, "Oh Ho don't worry. They're all like that when they're 2. Never want to stay in one place. My daughter (points to me) was like that when she was that age".

I don't know who was more traumatised. Me, or the poor guy, who was looking at me and trying to visualise me as a 2 year old.

When I finally made it on to the flight (Air Asia FD 3506), I was tickled at the sight of so many people squashed together like sardines. Until of course I had to squeeze in right alongside them. Coupled with announcements in Rapid Fire Thai, and piped in Malay rock ballads by Peter Pan (an Indonesian Band), it was a truly Dysfunctional, and entertaining experience. I must admit that I tried to read "Unaccostomed Earth", but put it away after 3 pages because I didn't quite like the way it depressed me. Dang, I knew I should I bought that bodice ripper instead. Cheese and holidays go hand in hand.

Since I didn't want to read, and was sitting in a different row from my family (Seating arrangement screw up) I decided to spend the rest of the flight looking out of the window. I love looking out of windows in general, because when I was younger, I always got sick while traveling and was constantly looking out of windows to settle my stomach. When we passed over some sort of a fishing port, (According to my dad who whispered it from the row behind mine) I was treated to a rather abstract vision, a sea of fluorescent white dots on an endless black sea.

The 400km long Sukhumvit Road also looked amazing from above, like the spinal cord running through the center of Bangkok. Which it is, literally and figuratively.

When we landed at last, it was a long trek through the airport, first to the "Visa on Arrival" counter for my mum's visa (Thai Visas are Free until March 2010. Don't miss this chance to go for a holiday there) and an even longer trek out to meet my uncle, aunt and 2 cousins, who were eagerly waiting to recieve us. I was told by my uncle that the trek to the car park was even longer, but I didn't feel it, caught up as I was in my cousins' non-stop chatter (Div you're getting my room, Div I acted in a play at school, Div I have a friend who's half swiss and half mandarin, Div our Dog is waiting to meet you, Div Div Div)

God I love kids, and these two with their long windswept hair (from a steadfast refusal to cut their hair), their sticky fingers and chocolate stained faces were plain I want to pick them up and hug them adorable. If they were reading this right now, I'm pretty sure they'd lynch me. Boys don't like to be thought of as 'adorable' apparently.

The family chatter continued on the drive home, while I idly noted the distinct lack of traffic on the roads (thanks to an amazing network of highways), my uncle's proclivity to drive at a 150 km/h, his talk about his ethanol powered car and windmill blades dotting the skyline. Is this really Bangkok? Where's the crowd and the pollution and the sleaze? All of this was adding up to a 'Willing Suspension of Disbelief' type of experience, which was why I was quite languid when my uncle pointed out one of the 'posh new nightclubs in Bangkok'. It was called "Itchy".

Seriously.

It was also a landmark, to enter Bangkok's very own Wisteria Lane. I'm not kidding. My uncle and aunt live in a gated community of villas that won't be out of place in Wisteria Lane. No scratch that. Wisteria Lane looks cheap and tawdry in comparison to some of the houses we passed, in the 2km drive from the gate to the house. Apparently, there are 350 such villas in the complex.

For reference, each villa is about 6000 Sq. feet (not including garden). Do the math.

When we finally arrived at my uncle's house, it was a 'woah' experience. Not because of the size of the house (which was pretty huge), but their Cocker Spaniel Disney....

~deviousDiv

PS: Stay tuned for "Adventures with Disney", the next chapter of my Thailand Trip Travelogue.

Things to note when flying Budget with the family...

2009-12-24T19:27:00.000+08:00

I'm off to Bangkok today with the family, and I'm really excited.

I'm pretty sure that some of my readers, who are 'well travelled' will probably be thinking... 'how passe'. But a trip with your family is an adventure in itself, and one dosen't need to go to Inner Mongolia for unforgettable experiences.

Take my family for example. This is the first time my parents and brother are getting on board a budget flight. (Air Asia) After agonising for weeks over seats, luggage allowance and other insanities, we finally bundled ourselves out of the house to catch our flight.

It was 5PM.

Did I mention our flight is at 8.4oPM?

My parents, being hyper-paranoid, decided its better to be early, than queue and miss the flight. Which is a sensible attitude to have if there actually was a queue.

There wasn't. We cleared our check in in 15 minutes. That was probably because everyone else had nothing to check in. We on the other hand had 70KGs of luggage. The look the check in staff gave us was priceless, if a bit condescending.

The piece de resistance? The 30KG suitcase, filled with presents and provisions for our relatives in Bangkok. 10 kilograms of rice were fighting for space with a Nintendo Wii, five Artemis Fowl Books, a clutch of Vikram DVDs (tamil movie), an assortment of Indian spices, and even Maggi mee.

GO figure!

So anyway, here I am hogging the free internet/computer terminal, killing another hour before I actually go on to board my flight. I am doing this after tasting Benedictine Dom at the liquor duty free (yuck), eating "Indian Vegetarian" food at the coffee shop in Terminal 1 (double yuck) and buying Jhumpa Lahiri's "Unaccustomed Earth" at the Times Bookstore (yay!).

I will try to blog during the trip, but I shall say that's unlikely. However, I have bought a notebook to jot down my dysfunctional observations, which I will be more than happy to share once I'm back.

With pictures of course. From my BRAND NEW CANON POWERSHOT SX20IS. (Chew on that all you camera nerds.)

Ok I'm being warned I need to log off so I'll end here.

Merry Christmas!

~deviousDiv

Relooking Solar Power and Desertec, and Thank You Dr. Gerry Wolf.

2009-12-12T09:32:00.000+08:00

Dr. Gerry Wolf, moderator of the Desertec-UK website shared some insightful comments on my previous post on ambitious Solar Power projects in North Africa, which I think is only fair to highlight in a separate blog post for arguments' sake.

He said,

* When environmental and hidden costs are added in, solar power is cheaper than nuclear and coal-fired electricity:

Dr. Gerry Wolf correctly pointed out in his website, that the cost of electricity from fossil fuels and nuclear sources is on a rising trend, while the cost of concentrated solar power is falling and the cost of coal fired and nuclear based power generation appears low because they don't include the environmental costs of the technologies employed.

* Concentrating solar power can certainly deliver power at night:

He also said in his website, "One of the attractions of CSTP is that it is possible to store solar heat in melted salts (such as nitrates of sodium or potassium) so that electricity generation may continue through the night or on cloudy days. This has been demonstrated in the Solar Two power tower and in the parabolic trough type of CSTP plant."

But I think the most important point he raised was:

* Power plants of all kinds wear out in 30 or 40 years. So although the Desertec project sounds expensive, at least as much money would be spent anyway on replacing worn out power plants. The advantage of Desertec is that the new plants would produce clean power, not dirty power.

Would CSP plants hold out for much longer? I think its hard to tell, but adding solar power capacity in one of the most sunshine intensive parts of the world makes sense.

~deviousDiv

World Bank wants to spend $5.5 Billion on Solar Power in North Africa.

2009-12-12T01:56:00.000+08:00

Yesterday's HOT news: The World Bank announced $5.5 billion dollars of investment in North African solar power projects. Well, the World Bank itself is investing about $750 million dollars from the Clean Technology Fund, and the rest is on the way from other sources.

The project would span Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia, Jordan and Egypt and triple world wide concentrated thermal solar power capacity. (Concentrated solar power concentrates solar energy to boil water and drive a turbine.) Construction of the 11 facilities in the project is expected to commence in 2011 and they hope to complete by 2015. When completed, it will provide power to nations in the area as well as to Europe, where most of the production jobs are likely to be sourced.

I read that the even the Hoover dam would be dwarfed in expense by this North African solar effort, and the article said the North African project will cost twice that and generate less than the Hoover did in 1935.

All this for a 900 MW capacity for by 2020.

To put that in perspective, the facility producing the most power in the U.S. is the Palo Verde nuclear power station outside of Phoenix, Arizona, and it produces =just over 3,700 MW, over four times as much as the aggregate of the proposed solar project.

But the North African Solar Power facilities won’t generate nuclear waste, though.

Aaaand... the project is estimated to save 1.7 million tons of greenhouse gases per year. This is the same as taking 600,000 gas guzzlers of the road. Some went as far as suggesting that over 10,000 jobs may be created by this project, though the World Bank declined to include this figure in its materials.

However, Solar Power is hardly the most cost-effective way of generating electricity, but one cannot discount the fact that this project could change the economics and the quality of life for many in the region. It will at least create a lot of economic activity in the solar industry and help drive down solar costs with an economy of scale. Oh and maybe drive more R&D?

Because until they sort that out, Solar Power isn’t cheap power and can only produce during sunlight hours.

Maybe the World Bank should take their cues from the ultra ambitious Desertec Project, which is another, very ambitious project to import electricity from North African deserts. The lead in time for this one? 40 years. The investment? Over $400 billion by current estimates and likely to grow. Announced last July by 10 German companies, one Spanish and one Swiss, the Desertec Industrial Initiative aims to provide 15 per cent of Europe's electricity from solar and other renewable plants located in North Africa and the Middle East, by 2050.

Just a few small details remain like:

Raising US$400 billion for Desertec to complete the project.

Figuring out what technologies to use.

Figuring out where to locate the plants.

And many many more things that will be fun to watch as things develop.

So is Solar power going to become as big as Wind? For now, I don't think so, as prices are still very high for large scale projects. Plus I also know that Venture Capitalists are more weary of investing in Solar Power as many startups went bust because in the past year.

Lets wait and watch!

~deviousDiv

In A Perfect World

2009-12-10T23:43:00.000+08:00

Office PCs won't crash, hang, eat your emails or generally sulk.

And this program will be installed in all of them.

Ctrl+Y Ctrl+Y Ctrl+Y Ctrl+Y Ctrl+Y Ctrl+Y Ctrl+Alt+A

~deviousDiv

Why Should Pleasure Cause Guilt?

2009-12-03T23:30:00.000+08:00

In my world, the phrase 'guilty pleasure' is an oxymoron. Why should pleasure cause guilt?

Besides this blog, reading is my greatest pleasure. I started my love for the written word, with audio books. And till today, I can't sit in a 10 minute bus ride without a book to keep me company. But I make no apologies for my taste in reading. I will read lurid purple prose, as avidly as I read Great Expectations or Jude the Obscure. I have no qualms about like popular novels by Dan Brown or denigrating post-modernist shit or stuff that makes me unhappy. Because at the end of the day, I'm just looking for entertainment, and through that, the most basic form of self-gratification and Pleasure.

I don't like to think of my purple prose as guilty pleasures, despite what popular wisdom dictates.

I wear what I want, the way I want it. I don't care about fashion and trends unless I've reinterpreted it in my own definition. I once bought a bag with an american flag on it, brought it back home and scratched at it with a black permanant marker. Then i rubbed it against every rough surface I found to give it more grunge. I finally topped it off with a bumper sticker, with Noam Chomsky's iconic statment, "Resistence is Possible". I thought it was beyond cool. The fashonistas in my university were horrified. I used to wear bandanas, with tie-died t-shirts I bought in a tiny street corner shop near the NTUC fairprice at Marine Parade. People claimed it gave them an eye-ache. Lecturers called me "Bandana Girl". And I liked it.

Maybe I became this way because of my mum trying to impose her sense of 'modest' dressing on me, forcing me to wear 'up to chin' baggy t-shirts with jeans in boring colors. Maybe it was the way she tried to put me in velvet frocks with pearls. I'm not a pearls type of girl. No, I like my sequins, my glitter, my oddball feathers and geegaws made of cheap plastic. I like my hippie, retro, wild-child vibe, and I like all that because... it makes me happy.

I don't really know much about wine, or beer or cider. All I know is that I like drinking an occasional glass to help myself relax. Its a pleasure to get that high that comes from drinking white wine too fast on a hot day. I like cherry flavored fisherman's friend sweets, and I've always had a silly wish to walk into a club in a sari.

I won't prevaricate. Its just who I am. I find nothing wrong in peppering my words with Singlish to emphasize my points. Sometimes saying 'sikit atas' works far better than calling someone status conscious. Plus its also quite insulting.

So does this make me shallow, vapid and self absorbed? Maybe it does. But I've reached a point in my life when I make no apologies for the way I am.

Take my political views for example. They are largely ambivalent. I don't particularly love the PAP, nor have any hatred for the opposition. After all, I have a roof over my head, I have peace in this country, and I don't really have to pay taxes either. So yes, I'm pleased with status quo, as it isn't getting in the way of my happiness. Will I vote for another party? Probably yes. I'm not 'brand loyal' after all, I'll just vote for the party that promises what I need. And if I'm not happy, I'll switch and vote for another. Politicians don't need or want our loyalty after all. They just want our votes, as many of them as they can get, so individuals don't really count.

And when it come to religion, I don't like the idea of a vengeful god, or a god that will punish me for wrongs. No, I like the idea of a happy god, who gives me comfort when I'm upset, and makes me happier when I'm happy. Its probably why I start everyday with a prayer, to thank god for another happy day.

And while I am very passionate about social issues, arguing passionately for gay rights, more rights and benefits for Single mothers, and even electric cars on Singapore's roads is a thrill. So ultimately, the intellectual exercise is a pleasure.

I guess this is the way I am and this is the way I'll always be, passionate, pleasure seeking and making no apologies for it. Does this make me a hedonist?

Well I know that hedonism is essentially living with the ultimate aim of attaining personal pleasure and happiness, and whatever increases pleasure is right, and whatever causes pain, is therefore wrong.

I've always wondered, simply because I've never really cared about what's 'right' or 'proper' or 'what other people might think about me', or maybe I used to a long time ago, but now I just don't.

Or maybe I've started embracing that part of me that is human. Because really... what are all, but pleasure seekers in our own right?

~deviousDiv

PS: The new blog header is a reflection of my philosophy. Really, why complicate life? Sometimes profound wisdom can be found on the faces grinning children with sticky-sweet watermelon juice running down their chins. This is without doubt, my favourite portrait photograph.

SOMETHING BIG IS COMING THIS WAY About Starhub Cable TV

2009-12-02T22:18:00.000+08:00

Ok I Haven't Fallen off the Face of this Earth... BUT

I need a small favor from you! I need your help with some research I'm working on for my Masters degree. I am conducting a 10-minute online survey to determine preferences amongst Starhub cable TV subscribers.

Follow this link to the survey: http://baruch.qualtrics.com/SE?SID=SV_1ELTqEHdbYnCytm&SVID=Prod

AND YOU HAVE 24 HOURS TO FINISH SO GET CRACKING!!!

By the way, your answers are completely anonymous as I'm not asking for any contact information.

Your opinions are very important to me, and I deeply appreciate your assistance with my project.

Thank you!

~DeviousDiv

PS: Once I've compiled the findings, I'll put it up here. I assure you its going to start some interesting discussions.

Obama's Diwali Message

2009-10-21T21:30:00.000+08:00

Someone in his team did their research right.

PM Lee, take your cues. If OBAMA can do this for the Indians in America, you can do the same for 9% of your country's population!!!

Executive Training: Planning Strategic Change

2009-10-08T19:06:00.001+08:00

test post

Vir Das comments on Getting Married

2009-10-07T23:11:00.000+08:00

In light of some interesting revelations today, the video is apropos. In car veritas? Was it the air conditioning?

On that note, if I ever become as he describes, please ply me with bourbon cokes, and after I'm properly drunk, pleas hit me on the upside of my head. Thank You.

~deviousDiv

A Classic! Couple Fight for Custody and Judge Offers Wisdom

2009-10-05T00:14:00.000+08:00

Husband and Wife are in court getting a divorce, and fighting for custody of their child.

Wife argues: "I brought the child into this world with pain and labour. She should be in my custody."

Husband turns to Metaphor: "If I put a dollar in a vending machine and a Pepsi comes out. Whose Pepsi is it? the machine's or mine?"

Wife jumped on the metaphor bandwagon: "Sir... the pot is mine ... the milk is mine too ... and to make yoghurt, all that's needed are 2 drops of 'extra fluid'. So really, to whom does the yoghurt belong to, me or the one who provided the two drops?"

Husband counter argued: "I put the paper in the typewriter, took the effort to punch the keys, ultimately whom does the letter belong to, me or the typewriter??"

At this point, the frustrated Judge said: "Had you hand written the letter, the custody issue would not have arisen...."

~deviousDiv

Shame on you Sarpinos... REALLY LOUSY SERVICE

2009-09-13T13:12:00.000+08:00

Date: Sep 13, 12.50PM

Called up the Sarpino's restaurant at the Meridian hotel for a delivery, and the sales person instructed me to 'come down and get it yourself'. When I said we're busy and that's why we want the delivery, his response was 'So? We're also busy.'

Finally when I asked him how long it will take, his answer was 'I don't know, I can call you back la'. His tone of voice was insulting, and it came across clearly that they didn't value our business.

If this is the standard of service from Sarpinos, I predict the outlet will close by the end of this year. The outlet in question is at the Concorde Hotel (formerly known as the Le Meridian hotel). I never see more than 3 customers in there at any given time.

I am on the 4th floor of the hotel, and tied up with class presentations.

While I understand its acceptable to go down and get the pizza myself, I think its completely unacceptable for the service staff to give me, a customer, this type of attitude, especially since we are not getting this for free.

Sarpinos... shame on you!

~deviousDiv

Why Do These Things Happen to Me?

2009-09-12T09:29:00.000+08:00

I nearly missed my bus stop, and was making a last minute rush for the door.

The helpful guy sitting next to me yelled at the driver and pressed the bell on my behalf. How nice of him! I was feeling warm things about the kindness of strangers, and the human race yadda yadda...

Until he turned around, leered, and asked me, "can we exchange numbers?"

*expletive*

~deviousDiv

Generalisations, Illogical Conclusions and Mass Hysteria- The Bigots Have Kamal Hassan in their clutches.

2009-09-06T11:53:00.000+08:00

I got this piece of *&^%@#$% in my inbox, and it annoyed me intolerably. I find the writer's illogical reasoning and conclusions very disturbing. And dangerous...

See what I mean:

In 1978, Kamal's Tamil movie "Sivappu Rojakal" was released. He played the role of a Psychopath killer (femicide). A year later, a guy named "Psycho Raman" was caught for brutally murdering people especially women.

In 1992, his blockbuster movie "Devar Magan" was released. It’s a village based subject. The movie portrayed scenes of communal clashes. Exactly a year later in 1993, there were many communal clashes in southern districts.

He used a word called 'tsunami' in his movie "Anbe Sivam"(2003) .The word 'TSUNAMI' was not known to many people before. In 2004, 'tsunami' stuck the east coast of our country and many people lost their lives.

In his movie "Vettaiyadu Vilayadu "(2006) there are two characters called Ilamaran & Amudhan who played the roles of psychopath killers. After 3 months of release of the movie, the NOIDA serial killing came to light (Moninder & Sathish)

In his latest movie "Dasavatharam" in 2008 he mentioned about a deadly virus, which spread via air, that may destroy the world. Now in 2009 we have the Swine Flu that spreads through air. And to be specific, in the movie Kamal develops a bio weapon and finds out the deadly effect of the virus in a lab in America. Now the first case of Swine Flu was detected in Mexico (America).

Its amazing how intelligent individuals form seething masses of idiocy when they engage in collective action like email forwarding. Equally amazing is the way sensible people jump lemming-like into hare-brained speculative frenzies.

I say this because the header for the email was, "Amazing, and True... What is Kamal Hassan coming up with next?"

An extraordinarily illuminating,and, unfortunately, entertaining tale of naivete, and perpetuating hysteria, this email seeks to demonise (and maybe elevate to god-like status) of Kamal Hassan.

Stupid Young Punks... An Idiot Watch Update

2009-09-05T08:51:00.000+08:00

I was walking towards the Concorde Hotel just now to attend class, when I overheard some comments being passed about me in Tamil.

I turned around and there they were, three scruffy, unwashed 'Anjacks' (Tamil Gangster Youth), who probably have one brain cell between them.

Comments like 'antha vangalachi' (that north indian), 'velaikaari' (servant), 'mamasan' (pimp) all arose because they were trying to analyse why I would be walking down Orchard Rd with a backpack full of stuff.

At this point, I was so annoyed I wanted to punch one of them. I.did.not.appreciate.being.called.a.pimp.

However, I couldn't be arsed to actually talk to these lower life-forms, so I just flipped them the bird and walked away.

My moment of triumph was dimmed about 10 microseconds later, when I realised these gangbangers could sic their gang on me.

Bugger, Bugger, Bugger!

~deviousDiv

PS: Does this mean I've been in my first official gangfight?

PPS: I think I'm going to start carrying an "aruval" (machette) around just in case.

AAARGH Singapore Traffic. I.HATE.IT

2009-09-04T23:46:00.000+08:00

Its official. I.HATE.KRAMAT LANE. Its up there with Orchard Rd and Geylang Rd.

One Word... TRAFFIC!

It was after class, I was bone-tired, I wanted to take a cab home... and there were plenty available.

They were also stuck. In the same position. For 15 minutes.

Thank god for the girls... who came up with the brilliant idea of walking to the next lane for a cab.

LTA, please take note.

Can you INSTALL A BLEDDY TRAFFIC LIGHT AT THAT JUNCTION!!!

And while I'm at it, how does levying $7 of ERP actually help the traffic situation?

And can you also tell me why I have to pay $3 of ERP while going INTO the city in the evening Peak? People are leaving the City in the evening you noobs!

I took a taxi to class at 6.30 in the evening. (I had no choice, my class starts at 7pm). My base taxi fair (with the 35% evening surcharge) was just $10. My ERP charges were $7.

Is it any wonder that taxi drivers bitch about going into the City to look for business? Who wants to waste that kind of money on ERP when there's no guarantee on getting customers.

~deviousDiv

When You Think You Walk Alone

2009-09-03T21:28:00.000+08:00

Life reminds you that work-related fuckery isn't exclusive.

Sure... there are differences in the type of fuckery we experience, but the bottom line is always jealousy, pettiness, meanness and other smelly boss brain flatulence.

Paul Cohelo summed it up rather damningly,

"We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path."

Bottom line? We do things to our satisfaction and to fulfill our own work ethic.

If people don't like it because it makes them feel insecure and stupid, they can shove it.

~deviousDiv

Farm Fish to Make Biofuel = Bad, Smelly Idea

2009-08-31T23:41:00.000+08:00

Algae company LiveFuels has come up with what I think is the single most hare brained Algae biofuel business plan. They sincerely believe that getting Tilapia to eat the micro algae is the way around making expensive algal lipid extraction processes. They're even talking about scaling that up for commercial production, raise fish to eat the algae and store it in their organs, and then kill the fish to get the oil. Here's how LiveFuels justifies using fish:

Biomass concentration as nature intended it. Conventional machinery is unable to harvest microscopic algae from large volumes of water at low cost. To harvest algae, LiveFuels uses a natural mixture of oil-rich “algae grazers,” such as filter-feeding fish species, in place of expensive and energy-intensive mechanical equipment. This approach eliminates significant capital and operating costs, while providing a scalable system for harvesting large quantities of algae.

Currently, our research focuses on ecosystem and life cycle modeling in order to achieve the optimal growth of aquatic organisms.

How many Fish to a Barrel of Biofuel?

Lets ignore the 'as nature intended it part' and move on to the practical/ethical problem with all this.

Assuming LiveFuels works out technical kinks, and scales up...how many fish would we they need to raise ponds, and then kill, just to power our cars, buses and airplanes?

How many fish would be needed to make a barrel of oil? And we consume hundreds of millions of barrels of oil/day. Even if this was to make up 1% of daily oil consumption, we're still looking at over 2 million barrels of fish algae oil/day.

This whole thing just strikes me as grossly unethical, not to mention absurd.

Killing Animals to Power Our Cars? Have We Lost the Plot? Forgive the PETA spiel here, but raising animals in factory farms is a gigantic environmental and ethical problem -- there are simply better, more humane and environmental friendly, ways for humans to power their bodies.

Raising animals and slaughtering them for fuel so humans can avoid using their natural means of locomotion -- or develop ways to power these devices that don't involve killing millions of animals directly for fuel?

I'd go with the second one eh?

What's to stop people from using Whale Blubber as a Biodiesel source next?

~deviousDiv

Anita's Prayer

2009-08-31T22:57:00.000+08:00

My Cousin Anita penned a prayer for her little one, which I think applies to the not so little ones too.

I Pray

That you find courage, to be brave
That you nurture compassion, to be kind
That you choose honest,y to be truthful
That you believe in goodness, to be virtuous
That you encourage innovation, to be different
That you discover meditation, to be peaceful
That you believe in simplicity, to be unique
That you behave without prejudice, to be tolerant
That you attach, to be independent
That you look for equanimity, to be stable
That you accept strife, to be tranquil
That you let go of pride, to be dignified
That you learn the value of gratitude, to be rational
That you dispel ignorance, to be aware
That you respect people, to be admired
That you treasure relationships, to be loved
That you understand disappointment, to be content
That you listen to your inner voice, to be successful
That you live, to be yourself

*wipes tear from eyes*

I always thought I was the square peg trying to fit the 'round' (ENGINEER/ACCOUNTANT/SCIENTIST) mould. Thankfully, there are other artistic temperaments in the family chain. However, I am always thankful to my family, which supported my choice to leave science behind and embrace the mysteries of a Liberal Arts education.

I'm a better person for it.

~deviousDiv

After the Storm

2009-08-31T13:53:00.000+08:00

Its been a while since the 'storm' broke here. My "Sout sick" post became one of the most popular posts in the blog. WOW.

Who would have thought spilling emotion in public gets you that kind of web hits?

But moving forward from there, I must say I've recieved lots of tips to manage exectuive brain flatulence (as I've now started to think of it). Some from the most unlikely sources.

I think the comic strip below sums it all up...

~deviousDiv

Two Things in Life

2009-08-26T22:11:00.001+08:00

Not the usual one...

~div

Thank You Everyone

2009-08-19T13:31:00.000+08:00

I had a crap kind of day yesterday, and asked for some love.

I was touched by all the love I got... definitely more than what I expected.

Thanks for saying what i needed to hear. After bawling my eyes out (to relieve stress), and re-reading your comments, I felt on top of the world.

I was especially touched by the friend who offered to send pictures of rotting carcasses to the vipers' nest.

Love ya'll.

~deviousDiv

Sometimes You Just feel Soul Sick

2009-08-18T13:51:00.000+08:00

What do you do with bosses who use you as their personal whipping board?

One would think that someone as outspoken as I am would empower myself, and handle this better.

Unfortunately, I don't. I don't know how to deal with this. My strategy of appearing inscrutable just stirs up a frenzy among the nest of vipers.

Just the other day, the most vicious of them all told me that my job was like a rope. Whether i chose to climb up that rope or use it as a noose to hang myself is my choice.

Another time, one of them told me it was giving me an opportunity, and it is really putting up with me and I should be grateful to it.

Of course, lets not forget the one who told me it cannot in good conscience give a decent recommendation about me to a future employer. I wonder if this 'decent recommendation' will ever come to pass.

Other things they love to attack are my 'talent' in writing, my appearence, my speech, my shoes etc...

You get the picture.

The way they go on and on, i'm starting to wonder if everything I believe about my own abilities are a delusion.

Of course, most of it is stuff and nonsense, but the non-stop poison just gets to you. I feel so soul sick sometimes I feel like curling up and dying somewhere, to end this torment.

And there are days I fantasize of commiting acts of violence that will prove a point.

But how do you prove a point when there isn't one?

God i hate my life sometimes.

So this is my small request. One human being to another...

If you could say just one nice thing about me... I'd appreciate it.

I know I know... how fucking pathetic.

But please???

~deviousDiv

The Huge Impact of a Little Hug

2009-08-17T21:47:00.000+08:00

Someone should do this in Shenton Way, or outside my office. I can't promise I won't bawl my eyes out though. A simple smile after a bad day (which is almost everyday) can get me teary eyed and maudlin.Anyhow, here's a virtual Hug to all of you.~deviousDiv

[vodpod id=ExternalVideo.861604&w=425&h=350&fv=%26rel%3D0%26border%3D0%26]

more about "The Huge Impact of a Little Hug", posted with vodpod

Trinidad and Tobago

2009-08-16T14:09:00.000+08:00

I believe the whole country is made up of gorgeous women and yummy men who were born with muscles... everywhere.

A middle aged bald man has no right to look this good.

;)

~deviousDiv

PS: I'm moving to Trinidad.

No Retirement in Sight for a Lawyer, Not in a HUNDRED Years

2009-08-02T11:15:00.000+08:00

India's Oldest Lawyer still has 15 cases at the age of 99. He won't take on any new cases, but plans to complete his existing cases.He hopes to wrap up his cases before he's 100, so he can retire. :)~deviousDiv

[vodpod id=ExternalVideo.856274&w=425&h=350&fv=]

more about "No Retirement in Sight for a Lawyer, ...", posted with vodpod

Lekuasimi (What Are You Looking At?)

2009-08-01T17:59:00.000+08:00

This year's national day song, "What Do You See" just sucked big time. Electrico (the band that recorded the song) tried to combine angst with cheese to be 'edgy'. Its an attempt that fell spectacularly flat, and I believe this might be career suicide for the band. But never mind about them.

They should have consulted with Mr. Brown before they recorded the song... and it might have actually been quite fun.

~deviousDiv

Destination Marketing

2009-07-26T16:59:00.000+08:00

As travellers, we enjoy an overall experience. Some of us buy pre-arranged travel packages. Some of us do extensive research into a destination and we arrange our accomodation, airfare, transportation etc.

I think as travellers, we fall into distinct segments. There are the 'explorers' among us, who venture into extremely risky places with no expectations, and an aim to immerse themselves in the local culture.

Then there are the 'adventurers', who are also on the look out for new experiences and places, but factor in risks, and avoid extreme high risk places.

The third group are your mass tourists, who seek the same standard package tours.

Most of the people in my acquaintence come under the adventurer segment, myself included, and I like to think I'm visiting 'new' places.

But what makes us choose one location over another? Why do people choose Krabi over Palawan?

I took a walk in a marketer's shoes, faced with the challenge of marketing a destination in my marketing class. It really hit home in the past week, how challenging it can be to communicate the value of a destination to an audience inundated with competing messages.

The destination we chose was the Philippines. And I realised how critical a 'Visit Philippines' marketing campaign is in establishing the country in a target audience's evoked set.

Ultimately, the choice to visit a destination is ours, but we have to choose one over the other. And our decisions are tied to the value we percieve we are getting for our investment of time, money and energy

Influencing the traveller's choice is a challenge, especially since a destination is not something tangible that you can touch and feel before you embark on your trip.

So the next time you choose to travel to a destination, think about why you chose the location. There's a good chance there was a multi-million dollar marketing campaign that put the thought in your head.

Incredible India, Amazing Thailand, Malaysia Truly Asia, More than the Usual- Philippines etc. etc.

Nuff Said. :D

~deviousDiv

Moving Beyond Existential Angst

2009-07-25T16:40:00.000+08:00

I hate dealing with existential angst. This general, "OMGWTF My Life is Screwed" thing gives you gastric pains. It also makes people think you're a miserable sod.

I can't think of a Single day since 2007 when I didn't feel marginally angsty about the state of my life. I won't go into details but lets just say that my expectations of the working world were crushed, and I found myself choking under the stink of corporate flatulence.

I initially believed that the solution could be found at the bottom of a bottle of good chardonnay. Until I realised that Chardonnay doesn't come for free. And being an alcoholic and BROKE wasn't quite the solution I was looking for.

So no alcohol, no thinking in circles, no more of that crap.

I found my solace in education. I realised that there is a tremendous thirst in me for information. I want to learn something, and if i go to sleep each night with a new nugget of information, I feel like I've accomplished something.

In 2008, I did a post-graduate diploma in Asia Pacific Marketing, and right now I'm doing my Masters in Marketing & International Business. I'm thriving here. I love it, and I love the fact that I have an opportunity for intellectual stimulation outside the workplace.

To everyone who's going through this right now, I have this to say. Do something that makes you feel like you've accomplished something. And work to build on that accomplishment every single day of your life.

So when the sadness blindsides you, you can look back at what you've accomplished including:

- You climbed a rock wall
- You found a little cafe in lorong kanina selling the best teh tarikh in Geylang. (fictional ok!)
- You won a drinking contest with the office drunk
- You spoke to an interesting person
- You came up with a really fab idea at work. (Nevermind if your management didn't appreciat e it. )

Alright I'm not going to come up with more points here because I'm running out of silly things.

If all else fails, take comfort in the knowledge that there always is someone who's more fucked up than you are.

Chin up everyone!

~deviousDiv

Facebook Invite in Tamil

2009-07-25T15:29:00.000+08:00

I gave myself a headache trying to read this.

From what I understood, its got the usual slew of completely irrelevant words describing the usual facebook functions.

Enjoy the eye-crossing fun. (Sorry non-tamil readers). :)

~deviousDiv

SIPS, SINS, DINK and DINS

2009-07-25T13:09:00.000+08:00

That is all I can really remember from my classes right now. Market segments.

To those who are not in the know, the DINK segment refers to households with "Dual Income & No Kids". There's a lot being studied about the consumer behavior of this segment, which is different from usual 'dual income with kids' household.

My classmates being my classmates (that's a whole new post), decided to come up with their own.

This is what they came up with:

DINS- Dual Income No Sex (many sad sighs from the married men in the audience).

SIPS- Single Income Plenty Sex (Many longing sighs from the married men in the audience)

SINS- Single Income No Sex (Many red faces in the audience)

Damn, this made me laugh till my sides hurt. But what a good way to learn about psycographics and market segmentation.

~deviousDiv

Please wear Pants and Stop Staring at My Cleavage.

2009-07-17T23:56:00.000+08:00

I am seriosusly starting to believe in the law of positive thought.

When you start willing to view some idiots in action, some really funny things start happening.

Not so surprisingly, it involves a bimbo. A Bimbo who thought that sheer panty-hose is the same as wearing leggings, which in her convoluted mind, is equivalent to trousers. Since she figured she was wearing trousers, she was wearing an ultra short tunic top over her sheer panty hose.

Much to my dismay, I was standing directly behind her at the traffic junction when an almighty gust of wind blew her tunic a good six inches up.... enough said.

In the mean time, another flat chested bimbo was gaping at my chest. Not a glance, or a discreet look, but out and out gaping. What... never seen breasts before? Oops... sorry, I forgot you don't have any.

But that's not all that has happened. My brother chose to manifest his 'tamilan maama' personality by giving a lecture on the virtues of wearing 'decent', non-cleavage bearing clothes after I told him what happened today.

How IDIOTIC!!!

My brother I can forgive, but the mooning lady at the traffic junction I cannot. The flat-chested carp was probably jealous so I chose not to get annoyed with her. I mean, not everyone is blessed with bountiful bosoms.

She's probably thought her own mosquito bites were the definition of cleavage. ;)

~deviousDiv

A Major Chapter of Div's Life Begins Tomorrow

2009-07-17T00:04:00.000+08:00

I start my Masters Degree tomorrow. Its in Marketing.

I am nervous beyond imagining, but I will overcome it at precisely 6.59PM when I will go into fight/flight mode. Then I'll get back home at 11.00PM and go into paroxysms of stress.

I have to wake up on saturday AND sunday for classes that start at 9AM and end at 6PM. What have I signed myself up for???

Divinity, grant my strength!

~deviousDiv

Remember Maria Hertogh?

2009-07-14T11:06:00.000+08:00

She was in our history and (for the young'uns) Social Studies Textbooks.

Maria Bertha Hertogh, the young Dutch girl who sparked the 1950 Maria Hertogh riots, succumbed to leukaemia at her home in Huijbergen, the Netherlands last Wednesday. She was 72.

Born in 1937 in Java, Ms Hertogh was adopted by Cik Aminah during World War II when she was five years old. Her parents had been interned as prisoners of war after the Japanese invaded Java.

The little girl was brought up as a Muslim and took on a Malay name, Nadra Ma'arof. Troubles began when the Hertoghs tried to claim their daughter back after the Japanese surrendered.

What followed was a legal tussle between the Hertoghs and Cik Aminah, Maria Hertogh's foster mother, which played out for more than half a year under intense media scrutiny. Some of the blunders comitted by the British included snatching Ms. Hertogh from her adoptive family, and putting the girl in a catholic cloister while the case was ongoing. The case became an all out battle of opinion, with Muslims around the world taking the outcome of the case as an affront to Islam.

In Singapore, the case led to the infamous "Maria Hertogh" racial riots in Singapore, and caused 18 deaths and over 200 injuries, after the High Court ruled in favour of Hertogh's parents. On the night the riots broke out, Maria Hertogh was moved out of the convent, and sent to Saint John's Island, an offshore island 4 miles south of the main island of Singapore. The next day, Maria and Adeline Hertogh departed for the Netherlands by aeroplane. After landing in Schiphol Airport, they quickly proceeded to the Hertogh home on the outskirts of Bergen op Zoom.

Curious, I did some research into what happened after the case. Apparently, Maria was only able to communicate with her mother at first because she could only speak Malay. Maria found it hard to adjust and demanded rice with every meal, resenting the dutch diet. She also continued her Muslim beliefs as an act of rebellion against her natural parents. A plain clothes officer was assigned to escort her whenever she left the house, for fear of possible kidnappers who might take her back to Singapore, following reported sighting of "oriental strangers" around town. Maria's house was also placed under surveillance. Maria eventually began to adjust to her new environment. A nun came to the house daily to teach her Dutch until she was proficient enough to attend a local convent school. She also began to attend Mass with her family.

Back in Singapore, Maria's adoptive family had apparently given up hope of retrieving Maria.

On 20 April 1956, Maria was married to Johan Gerardus Wolkefeld, a 21-year-old Dutch Catholic. On 15 February 1957, she gave birth to a son, the first child of ten. But Maria did not seem to be content. In an interview with the "De Telegraaf", she said she often had rows with her mother, who lived near by.

She also said she still longed for her Malayan homeland. Her husband Johan began corresponding with Maria's family in Malaya where both parties expressed their wish for Maria to travel to Malaya to visit the aged Aminah, her adoptive mother, but the trip was never made due to financial difficulties. Aminah died in 1976.

The life story of Maria took another dramatic turn on 16 August of the same year, when Maria found herself on trial in a Dutch court charged with plotting to murder her husband. She admitted in court that she had been thinking about leaving her husband but was afraid to start divorce proceedings in case she lost custody of her children.

In her defence, Maria's lawyers brought up her background, which the court acknowledged. With this in mind, and because the plot was never executed and there was no proof that she participated in plotting her husband's murder, the three-man bench acquitted Maria. Meanwhile, Maria had also filed for divorce on the grounds of the irreparable breakdown of her marriage.

She was supposed to have been very unhappy, and constantly longed to come back to Malaya up till the day she died.

Maria Hertogh's name still comes up in issues involving race and religion in Singapore 59 years later. As recently as last month, Deputy Public Prosecutor Anandan Bala cited the Maria Hertogh riots when he pushed for jail terms for a Christian couple sentenced to eight weeks in prison for distributing and possessing seditious publications.

Rest in Peace Maria Hertogh.

~deviousDiv

Innovation, Indian Style- Upgrading Toilets on the Indian Railway Network

2009-07-14T10:33:00.000+08:00

They're upgrading the toilets on Indian Trains. A long overdue move, it makes me bit more confident about train travel.

As much as I love travelling by Indian train, I've always been terrified to use the train toilets.

Typically, a visit to an Indian railway toilet involves walking into the slippery and filthy toilet, trying to find your balance while the train moves and shakes, and seeing the train track whizzing by below you.

My brother considers it a great adventure. For me, it all culiminated in an irrational fear that I would fall through the 'hole' and onto the track.

It nearly happened once. I slid and my foot fell down the toilet hole. My toes felt the buffeting wind from below, and my foot was nearly ripped off by the railway track below. I was quick to yank my foot back up of course, aided by the the coating of grime and moss coating the toilet bowl.

I ran back to my bunk, feeling rather shaken, and unable to sleep.

When I alighted from the train four hours later, it struck me rather belatedly that I hadn't washed my foot.

Talk about trauma! Ugh.

~deviousDiv

Vacuum toilets on trains will also save the rails below

New Delhi (IANS): The aircraft-style vacuum toilets Railways Minister Mamata Banerjee plans to introduce on trains on a trial basis are not only more hygienic, they will also save the rails below.

Indian engineers face a unique problem — corrosion of rails by acidic human waste. That means rails in India are more brittle and unsafe, and are required to be replaced more frequently.

Presenting the 2009-10 Railway Budget in Parliament on Friday, Ms. Banerjee said: "Field trials are being conducted for introduction of environment-friendly green toilets. We are also planning to conduct trials on vacuum toilets similar to those used in aircraft in a few coaches."

Rail corrosion due to the toilet discharge has become such a serious problem that recently scientists at the Indian Institute of Technology Kanpur (IIT-K) even developed a special alloy steel that is relatively more corrosion proof.

The stuff leaving the toilets of speeding trains in the form of fine spray corrodes the rails, R. Balasubramaniam, professor of materials science at IIT-K, told IANS in May. "It is a unique problem faced in India where long distance trains are quite common. Longer travel times invariably result in greater use of toilets and, in turn, more corrosion."

"Rail corrosion is a major problem, especially along the salt-laden sea coasts," H.S. Pannu, Director-General of the Railways' Lucknow-based Research Designs and Standards Organisation (RDSO), had admitted.

Environmental corrosion combined with "toilet corrosion" shortens the life of rails and according to the Railways, nearly Rs 440 crore is spent annually on replacement of rails withdrawn prematurely due to corrosion.

Mr. Balasubramaniam led a team that worked in collaboration with RDSO and the Steel Authority of India (SAIL) to develop the new alloy.

The rails currently in use are high carbon steels containing about 0.7 to 0.8 per cent carbon and 1.0 per cent manganese. "The presence of high amount of iron carbide also called 'cementite' renders these rails susceptible to corrosion," he explained.

While atmospheric corrosion of rails may not endanger safety, "crevice corrosion", taking place under the liners of the rail fastening system — and hence not visible from outside - is particularly worrisome, Mr. Balasubramaniam told IANS. "Crevice corrosion is accelerated in the presence of chloride ions near sea coasts as well as in discharge from the toilets of passenger trains."

The Railways' own efforts to combat crevice corrosion by trying out different types of coatings in field trials failed to work.

But now trying out new chemical experiments to save the rails may not be necessary in the second largest railroad in the world under a single management, running more than 11,000 trains every day, 7,000 of them for passengers.

The network comprises 1,08,706 km, and vacuum and green toilets, when operationalised on trains, would save this length of rails from corrosive human waste. After all, Indian railways ferries 14 million passengers daily from 6,853 stations across the length and breadth of the country.

Jaddi Maamis- An Idiot Update

2009-07-09T23:17:00.000+08:00

"Jaddi Maami" (Underwear Aunty) is what my grandmother calls the short-shorted women who flaunt their bits and bobbles to the whole world by passing off underwear as clothes.

I had the displeasure of encountering one in a "Ball Yoga" class yesterday. For the uninitiated, Ball Yoga involves doing yoga asanas while balanced on a Gym Ball. What do you do? Contort or keep your balance? Trust me folk, this is a LOT harder than it appears.

Especially when the goddamn student in front of you exposes most of her arse and crotch, and at some points, her boobs. My eyes!

But my eyes weren't spared that easily. I saw another one of the "Jaddi Maamis" at Giant today.

She was shopping in a sports bra and boy shorts. Both were really tight... and *ahem* brief. I was tempted to politely enquire if she'd forgotten to wear clothes but she had a huge ang-moh with her who was groping her in inappropriate place. He looked rather intimidating, and I couldn't be bothered, so I let it be.

Besides, who am I to stand in the way of anatomy lessons. The bored school boys I saw were definitely paying more attention to Jaddi Maami than any Science textbook.

Gah... how idiotic! Put on some CLOTHES people. I believe exposing yourself in public is a crime.

~div

NaBloPoMo-National Blog Posting Month... on Wordpress

2009-07-09T22:43:00.000+08:00

ARE YOU Up to the Challenge of posting one post every day for thirty days?

I'm going to make a valaint attempt to expose one IDIOT a day for Thirty Days. I mean, this is Singapore. We get to see at least 30 idiots a day in Singapore.

~div

The ATM Queue Hogger & Blueberry Mouth- Idiot Watch Update

2009-07-07T18:39:00.000+08:00

I encountered one today. It was outside the POSB ATM.

HOW MANY TIMES DOES A PERSON NEED TO CHUCK THEIR ATM CARD INTO THE SLOT, ESPECIALLY AFTER IT KEEPS GIVING THE MESSAGE "INSUFFICIENT FUNDS".

Shove off, and go to the bank if you have a problem. Don't hold up the bloody queue for 20 minutes. If you can't read, you have no business banking.

I am fed up with queuing at ATMs. I think I need to shut down my useless POSB account and bank with State Bank of India. (Yes Singapore has their branches).

According to their marketing guy, you can actually withdraw money from Citibank, HSBC, Standard Charterd and a few more ATMs for ZERO CHARGE.

Oh, and they also have Saturday & Sunday Banking, from 9AM to 9PM.

And since we're on the topic of an Idiot watch, I must admit I did something pretty idiotic myself. Althought my idiocy was quite cool compared to idiot ATM queue-hogger.

I ate 15 blueberries and ended up with a blue stained mouth. Teeth, tongue, lips, everything.

The blue stain eventually turned turquoise and faded off.

I must say I had great fun flashing my blue teeth and lips to passers by at Parkway Parade. I felt like a walking, talking and breathing Cadaver.

Too bad I wasn't wearing my Goth Make-up from my university days. Now that might have put the cat among these suburban pigeons.

~deviousDiv

PS: Tomorrow's Post- the "Jaddi Brigade".

Idiot Watch Update 2

2009-07-07T08:00:00.000+08:00

MHD has confirmed she's going on a major Idiot Watch. Brainless Bimbos and Bozos of Tanjong Pagar/Shenton Way... watch your backs.

I know I will eagerly await the retelling.

As for me, I'm going back on the Idiot Watch. I might not confront them though.

~deviousDiv

Shameless Plug

2009-07-06T18:57:00.000+08:00

Did you see my new Blog header? I am unbearably proud of it.

That picture of the pink lotus among the decaying grey leaves and mud is a photograph I took in Bali. I freely admit that the picture would look serene and beautiful if it was in full colour.

But I was in temple number 998340 (alright that's an exxageration), looking at yet another lotus pond when I thought... 'Now this is a prime example of dysfunctionality in nature.'

I mean, look at how perfect that lotus is. And then look at the leaves around it, so full of holes, crumpling and almost half dead.

Sun-addled, I decided that the lotus was sucking the beauty from everything around it. And yet the whole lotus plant seemed to thrive. Talk about dysfunctional!

After setting my camera to focus on the colour of the Lotus, and having everything else in black and white, I stood pickling in the sun, and took 25 shots of this one lotus.

After satisfying my photographic muse, I satisfied my unbearable thirst with a bottle of Teh Botol. I think that was the first time I introduced by dear friend and travel buddy ACT to the evils of Teh Botol, to thank her for waiting so patiently. :)

The blog header was the best shot of the 25 shots, and has since become my favourite photograph for my Bali trip.

~deviousDiv

Green Pepper Chocolate- A Journey to Heaven

2009-07-06T14:10:00.000+08:00

My colleague got back form Germany bearing unique presents.

She bought us all Heilemann Confiserie Gourmet Chocolate bars. According to the authority on all things chocolate, www.international-chocolates.com:

Heilemann Confiserie Chocolate is manufactured in the south of Germany, close to the borders of Switzerland and Austria. The home of the chocolate is a little village called Woringen. Woringen has about 1.800 inhabitants.

Heilemann Confiserie Chocolate exists since more than 50 years. All chocolate bars are made by the hands of the chocolate master.

The flavour I selected was "Green Pepper Chocolate". I was feeling rather adventurous. And having had my first piece, I felt moved to share the experience with you.

Eating the Green Pepper chocolate was like going on a journey of favourite flavours, in this case sweet, bitter and spicy.

After the sweetness of the chocolate slid down my throat, I was treated to the crackle of peppercorns on my tongue and back of my throat. The fact that it was 'green pepper' ensure that the pepper packed a mean punch.

This seemingly ‘bizarre’ contradiction works beautifully!

For those who are not in the know, Green peppercorns are raw peppercorn fruits, which are plucked and dried to make black/white pepper that we see in the supermarkets. Green peppercorns also happen to be one of the most expensive spices in the world, as they are hand harvested and have a very short shelf life.

Anyone who gets a chance to go to Germany must make a stop to try these chocolates. For those of you (like me) who cannot afford a trip, you can look at the image above and salivate.

~deviousDiv

Singapore Celebrity Jaime Yeo Blogs about the Orgasms she had when she was...

2009-07-03T18:03:00.000+08:00

SIX YEARS OLD FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!

Apparently, Singapore Celebrity Jaime Yeo said,

"I had my first orgasm when I was 6. Wait!!! Before you fly off the handle and faint or something. Let me explain. When i was a little girl, I found that if I cross my legs tightly and squeeze for a long enough time, I’d feel this strange but awesome and warm sensation down there. The sensation would only last for about 6-10 seconds but it felt so good I couldn’t help but repeat the “cross legs and squeeze” action again and again throughout my childhood. Years later, when I finally learned (and experienced) what an orgasm meant through sex education and a bit of self exploration, I finally realised that I was more familiar with masturbation than most kids my age."

WTF?

This has quite naturally caused a huge brouhaha among conservative 'Christian' Singaporean Parents. (Who on earth are these people anyway?)

Even as a liberal, I think this classifies as 'too much information'. Remember my "Confessions are Good for the Sou l" blog post.

This is like that, but a million times worse.

Jaime Yeo was blogging on STOMP, which is quite possibly the single most visited/read website in Singapore. In essence, she was confessing her masterbatory habits to an audience of 3 million.

One wonders what she was thinking when she wrote that. Was she taking Media Whoring to new levels? Or is this sheer idiocy?

I think this one qualifies for the IDIOT watch.

~deviousDiv

Idiot Watch Update

2009-07-03T14:47:00.000+08:00

This isn't a very current tale.

But it involves an Idiot (old white Australian guy this time) and a lift. Those who know me and my stories probably know about my varied lift encounters.

To cut a long story short, he started to berate "You Bloody Asians" for daring to move fast to hold the lift door open. His blistering tirade, liberally peppered with a selection of swear words, made a lift full of people uncomfortable.

Including me.

No scratch that, I was bloody pissed. In my defense, I hadn't had any coffee that morning, and was feeling grumpy. So I unleashed.

I called him a 'bloody Australian' and highlights included 'go back to your effing country', 'effing no manners', 'stop leeching off our tax payers money', added in a few more effs for effect and then ended my tirade.

Its amazing, how a 6'5" man can look 5 feet tall. Perhaps it had to do with all the murderous stares he was getting from other irate lift passengers.

Think the poor man was relieved to get out of the lift on the 8th floor. But there was one 'aunty' who told me off for swearing. (Don't you love Singaporean Aunties?)

I ran into him a few times after. The first time I saw him, I gave him a huge grin, and said 'so I hope you're having a better day today'. He turned white and got out of the lift without saying a word.

The second time I saw him was on Wednesday. I smiled this time, but didn't say anything. To his credit, he admitted having a 'bad month' and gave a monologue on 'how much I respect Asians and their culture'.

While his 'Asians and their culture' monologue was riddled with stereotypes of their own, I was content to let it pass. Some people just don't learn you know.

I did however admit to not having any coffee the morning I yelled at him, and I apologised.

Some Idiots can be reformed. Some just need coffee.

~deviousDiv

Proud To Be Indian Today

2009-07-02T17:09:00.000+08:00

India’s high court decriminalized Gay Sex today. While the ruling applies in New Delhi only, it’s a reflection of what it means to be Indian- open minded, accepting and respectful.

Today, I am proud to say I’m Indian.

~deviousDiv

Sleepless in Singapore

2009-07-01T17:35:00.000+08:00

I am fed-up with my sleep patterns. They have gone apeshit and are getting worse.

I just cannot fall asleep at night.

Its annoying.

I end up lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, yawning till there are treacle-thick tears in my eyes. I want to sleep so badly. But I’m just unable to “fall asleep”. I instead have to contend with a million thoughts running through my mind.

The thoughts are not even useful, or relevant. If you ask me now, what I was thinking at 1.30AM while staring blankly at the ceiling, I probably cannot tell you, as I cannot remember. Nevertheless, these thoughts rush through my brain like the aurora borealis, elusive strands of light I cannot touch and hold.

I suppose I can drain my mind of its thoughts, do some meditation and sleep. However, a selfish part of me wants to see the light show, and remind myself that I am an intelligent and witty person.

Because when I get into the office at 9AM sharp, I need to drain the wittiness, the creativity, the spark, and the personality, dump it in a plastic bag, and leave it in a dank locker beyond the reach of the management’s eye. Then I need to retrieve the stinking package at 7.30PM before I go home.

I suppose this is what they call encroaching mind rot. Would figurative maggots help in eating away the decaying flesh? I live on the vague hope it works, which is why I read Caustic Yoda, Dave Barry and Stanley Bing, and why I watch House MD religiously every Monday at 10PM.

When I finally do fall asleep, it feels like I am shoved awake a mere five minutes later.

I suppose Sleep Inertia is one way to suppress your personality to become a ‘yes-woman’ automaton.

~deviousDiv

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: Shifted this Blog.

2009-06-28T11:22:00.006+08:00

You can now read my blog at http://realmofdiv.wordpress.com

~deviousDiv

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: I've Shifted this Blog.

2009-06-28T11:22:00.005+08:00

I've removed all the posts from here but I will keep this page active infinitely.

Don't worry though, I've moved my 500 odd posts to my new blog.

You can now read my blog at http://realmofdiv.wordpress.com

Why the switch to wordpress? Why not I say. Its more complicated yes. But it looks good, it has many functions, and I am now able to navigate it with my eyes closed.

Its been good fun Blogger, but its time I moved on.

To my five readers, do drop by my new blog, and if you're linking me, don't forget to update the link!

~deviousDiv

Hold it with your teeth, pull it with your hand and suck.

2009-06-26T12:04:00.000+08:00

Excerpts of a decidedly weird Yahoo Conversation with colleague:

AO: Old ppl like me with not many teeth cannot eat sugarcane anymore. But I used to

Div: No la. You don’t need a lot of strength to eat sugarcane.

Div: Just hold with your teeth and pull with your hand,

Div: then suck

Div: Even my 86-year-old grandfather eats sugarcane.

AO: Just hold with your teeth and pull with your hand... then suck (this is beginning to sound weird) hahhahahahhahaa

AO: Never say it to a man. It will give him nightmares...

Since a comment on sucking the juice out of sugarcane can give hapless males a nightmare, I am compelled to put it here. You know, because it is a perverse and devious thing to do.

~deviousDiv