I Am What I Am

The song “I am what I am” was first publicly featured in the tony award winning gay-themed Broadway Musical La Cage Aux Folles which ran from 1983-1987. Being born in 1983, I had no idea about the existence of this song, let alone the musical, till I was in Degree College at St Xavier’s Mumbai, in the early 2000’s. I still remember how we had just finished a batch of qualitative analyses of some random chemical sample I don’t even care to remember. We had huddled outside the laboratory on the ground floor of one of the buildings of the large colloquial building complex that constituted St Xavier’s. We were breathing God’s good air and soaking in the sunlight after an hour of chemical reactions, when our chemistry professor came outside and sat with us. We got to talking and soon before we knew it, the ruddy cheeked, moustached and grinning professor Fr Joy Pereira, sang the song to us-hand gestures and all. And its stuck with me since. I never forgot the words-I was so impacted by them. Not because they changed my life or some such drastic event, but because I was tickled silly to finally find a song, the words of which I had been living by all my life without even knowing it. Everybody around me knew though J
All my life I have held steadfastly to the opinion that I am unique, that God had a prupose in mind when he made me. I have never been one for going with the flow or being a face in the crowd. And I’m not boasting when I say this because more often than not I have been labelled the weird al of any group that I temporarily belonged to. My ideologies, my rationales, my personality traits...everything seemed to not confirm to the regular trends set by my contemporaries. And the best part is-it never bothered me to be different. I have been happy the way I am, I’m still like that and still happy and pretty much sure that won’t change much in the future. So imagine my surprise when I find a song that could very well have been called “Twinky’s song”. I have since adopted the song as my battle cry against conformity and convention. I respect tradition, but I will never be forced into following something that doesn’t make sense to me. I am what I am.
I haven’t seen/heard the musical personally but Wikipedia tells me that the song is found on the finale number of the play's first act, and performed by the character of Albin Mougeotte. For obvious reasons, the song became so popular that it has since been covered by the likes of Shirley Bassey, Marti Webb, Joannie Taylor, Respect featuring Hannah Jones, Soraya Arnelas, Ken Page, Gerard-Rene-Gordon, Doug Shneider, Teatro, Linda Eder, John Barrowman, Amateur Transplants and Anthony Warlow. In fact, Wiki tells me that in Argentina, the singer Sandra Mihanovich made a Spanish-cover of the song called Soy lo que soy.
Although it was composed in 1983 by an openly gay man – Jerry Herman, and popularized by disco diva Gloria Gaynor, which made her a widespread icon of the fast growing gay movement, for me it has nothing to do with a person’s sexual orientation. To me “I am what I am” is a personal song-one can even call it a cliché that I live by, my stronghold, my armor.
My mother has often warned me of the lyrics acting as a double edged sword. And as usual she has been right. I have observed myself using the song as an excuse for my wrongdoings sometimes and looking back, I do not condone it. There is a fine line between being proud of what one is and making it the be all and end all of everything in the person’s character. I believe in change (though I don’t think Ill ever get used to it), and I believe in changing for the better. However through it all, I have promised myself that I will always maintain a balance, ensuring that the very basic root ingredients which make me-are not lost to societal or peer pressures, a dogmatic world or baseless fears. I am what I am. I am strong, I am emotional, I am peace-loving, I am just, I am fun loving, I am creative, I am non conventional, I am God’s child. I am what I am.

I am what I am, I am my own special creation,

So come take a look, Give me the hook

Or the ovation

It's my world That I want to have a little pride in

My world And it's not a place I have to hide in

Life's not worth a damn

Till I can say I am what I am

I am what I am I don't want praise I don't want pity

I bang my own drums Some think it's noise I think it's pretty

And so what if I love each sparkle and each bangle

Why not see things from a different angle

Your life is a sham

Till you can shout out I am what I am

I am what I am And what I am needs no excuses

I deal my own deck Sometimes the ace sometimes the deuces

It's one life and there's no return and no deposit

One life so it's time to open up your closet

Life's not worth a damn till you can shout out I am what I am
-----Twinky.

Singapore SBB Celebrates - Viv's Birthday Hoop-la!

The Singaporean gang had a grand time celebrating Viv’s birthday (albeit 1 week early) on 3 July. There was cake, there was champagne, there was sushi and also a humongous amount of laughing and incredible yoga postures (!) included (don’t ask!!!) Of course, Viv had no idea of the impending awesomeness (ideal hardworking journalist that she is) in spite of the fact that we were walking up and down the office cake and food in hand-Vivian was oblivious to it all caught up in reporting her weekly prices (there is a lesson for us all here).
So she was pleasantly surprised when we started singing the birthday song and inviting her to make her wish and blow out the candles. I don’t know what she wished for, but I do know we had a gala time with Russ later showing us what he learnt in Yoga class, me trying to imitate while the rest of the gang looked on and guffawed. I believe there were some references to line dancing and salsa too! If only we had a guitar, there would be music to complete the effect. The event felt incomplete though without Anna who couldn’t make it owing to the flu which
made her work from home.

Anyway, here’s wishing Viv a very Happy Birthday and many many more fun filled
years to come!

Cheers,
Twinky!

Memories unbridled -- By Ashish Shome

14/04/08
A piece written by my grandfather Ashish Shome, and translated by me.

A hint of daylight illuminates the darkness of the night, in our puja pandal. A singer encourages relaxation in an easy chair and bathing in the sunlight. I can’t take it anymore. I return home. Seated in the comfort of my easy chair, I stare into the limitless dark of the night. There’s no one in the house. My wife sits engrossed in the limelight downstairs.

As I sit alone, and ponder, I sight a tiny little boy, in the mirror of my mind. A ten year old schoolboy. He walks along a road in a village close to the city of Sylhet in the other side of Bangla. Crossing a four lane road, he steps into a lane and runs swiftly into his house. He dumps his books at Sorodidi’s feet and breaks into a sprint. Sorodidi is everything to the motherless child. She calls out to him “eat before you go!” But the boy is out on the streets without a backward glance. Today is the day the Goddess will be given sight. Pal jetha will be painting the great Goddess’ eyes. How can the boy be left behind? Never! Stuffing two balls of puffed rice in his hands, he sprints away. The mid day sun gets in his eyes. But he runs anyway-bare feet; with just a thin shirt and a half pant covering him.

Today is mahashtami. Suddenly my mind drifts away someplace. Childhood memories come wafting up before my eyes like images in a kaleidoscope...the little boy and his many pranks. The few happy moments during the puja...picking flowers and dancing to the sound of the dhak. Staring open-mouthed in awe at the statue of the goddess while it is being completed.
Our village puja used to be conducted at the Zamindars house. The grandeur of the puja never deterred the villagers from considering the festivities to be their own. The likeness of the goddess used to be made in the mandap itself. Our celebrations used to begin the day Pal Jetha directed his attentions to building the framework with straw.

Long before the advent of mahalaya, welcome songs for bijoya would begin. A few singers would go around singing all over town. Ancestral offerings would be over by mahalaya. I still remember, one day during that time, I listened to Virendra Krishna Bhadra’s Mahalaya in the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t understand a word of it then, but something about it appealed to me very much. For this mahalaya dawn, so many people would spent the night in awakened enthusiasm. Electricity was alien to the village then. Radios were battery dependant. During that period, maxed out radio volumes and chatterings emanating from various homes, used to keep the entire village awake. Mahalaya over the radio-a resplendent blanket of flowers under the shivli tree-the drip drop sound of dewdrops on the trees-a strange aroma of fog in the early hours of the morning-a beautiful environmental backdrop. It was absolutely unforgettable. Nowadays radios have phased out and given way to televisions. But a radio was the one thing of joy to us during those carefree days of childhood. Today, mahalaya arrives in Kolkata and goes away. No more do people wait eagerly to listen to the mahalaya at dawn. A reality check shows that today fields, trees and shivli flowers have all been lost in antiquity.

The inauguration at shasti arrives-The village priest bathes the “kolabou” with the women of the village and us children towing along. Sounds of the dhak, dhol, kashi and shonkho could be heard everywhere. Picking flowers during the few puja days, was the one duty appointed to us. In the absence of electricity, kerosene lamps would illuminate puja preparations. Decorations would include flowers, leaves, chains made out of coloured paper, flags and trinkets obtained from Mother Nature. We never experienced the hype surrounding modern day pujas in Kolkata. Apart from the familiar pleasing sounds of dhak and dhol, there was little or no other noise to contribute to the sound pollution we see in today’s day and age. The concept of loudspeakers was unknown to us.

Home hearths would remain unlit in all houses from shashti to bijoya. The mothers, grandmothers, and aunts of the village would make culinary and other arrangements for the puja. The holy offerings for the great goddess, comprising of fruits and sweetmeats in humongous quantities would come from every quarter of the village. The afternoons were spent in a huge gathering wherein all villagers would sit in a row and devour the Prasad offered to Ma (Ponktibhojon). The spread normally comprised of aromatic rice, moong dal and four or five vegetarian preparations-Chutney, sweets, doi, payesh etc. The vegetarian preparations used to be extremely favourable to the taste buds. People don’t cook vegetables like that anymore.
The men of the village used to make recreational arrangements. Jatras, kirtans, debates, poetical competitions-I have seen them all in those days. There was once a bioscope available for view in one of those boxes with a rotating handle. There used to be an opening in the body of the box. We had to put our eyes to the opening to watch the pictures within. A gramphonelike those used in the olden days used to be attached to the top of the box. A man used to go around shouting “Kolkata dekho! Dilli dekho Monument dekho” . These things are not enjoyed in today’s Bengal. Once a magician arrived from Kolkata. What an incident! He asked for the Zamindar’s watch, wrapped it in a handkerchief and smashed it to smithereens with a hammer. Later the same watch was retrieved from his Manager’s pocket. The manager’s face was a sight! I remember one time, I had gone to the neighbouring village to listen to a jatra. I had told noone at home. As soon as I returned home the next day at dawn, a spate of punishments awaited me. I had to stand in front of everybody in the courtyard, holding my ears. Finally I was saved by Sorodidi. That was followed by a treat to hot milk and warm jalebis. Sorodidi was eternally my shelter...till her last breath.

On the night of the visarjan, the last ritual was followed by carrying the Mother to the river. Two large boats used to be tied side by side with rope. Then the Mother would be seated in between the two boats and the boats sent off to the middle of the river. At that juncture, the rope would be untied and the boats separated. Consequently the mother would return to the depths of the river.

So many memories crowd my mind. Today, I am at the end of my life, having experienced the joys of material life. Whenever I look back, I see that little boy-in my blood, in my mind, in my very soul. Those days are long gone. That motherless child in the half pant-that crazy little boy who runs along the riverbank, wearing wondrous nature’s kohl in his eyes. He is followed by his loyal pet dog. He is lost somewhere in the jungle of the city’s concrete houses made of cold brick and wood.

I hear the bell. I believe my better half is home after a long stint in the sunlight!

CNY Singapura Style!!!

From the SBB archives...I had written this in February 2008, for the Chinese New year Celebrations, and it was published in the monthly company newsletter.

SBB staffers in Singapore heralded the new Year of the Rat with much gusto and a lot of yummy grub. Suffice it to say that a five course lunch and Yu Sheng “Toss Up”, later, we are satisfied at having begun the News Year with wonderful people and are expecting tonnes of prosperity coming our way... steel wise!!!

Singapore is a melting pot of global cultures. Indians, Chinese, Malays, Indonesians, Europeans, all seem to effortlessly harmonize their lifestyles in the garden city. Different ways of life have been modified over the years to build up a singular culture uniquely Singaporean. As such, one can imagine that Chinese New Year (CNY) celebrations are not “exactly” like those in mainland China. A shining example is the seventh day of CNY called Ren Ri or Human Day. It is also known as the common man's birthday and is celebrated, especially in Singapore and Malaysia, by getting together to eat the abovementioned Yu Sheng, a flavourful and colourful raw fish salad. The name Yu Sheng means 'raw fish' but a different enunciation of the same words has another meaning of 'abundant life'. So eating 'abundant life' at the start of the New Year is expected to bring abundance and prosperity throughout the year. This ceremony has become so popular that it is now held right through the Chinese New Year celebrations.

So since Singaporean SBB’ers weren’t working through CNY right till Tuesday, Anna, head enthusiast of the group arranged for a CNY lunch party on Wednesday. Keeping my vegetarian preferences in mind, Linda, the lubricant that keeps SBB Singapore running smoothly, very kindly sought out a Chinese vegetarian restaurant “Linghzi” and booked the meal a day earlier. Terry, jovial as ever, a congested Chris (thanks to the super cold environment we work in) and me, rode out there in Terry’s very sassy blue car. When we reached there we saw ourselves at a classy place, filled with vegetarian Singaporeans celebrating the New Year with much vigour. Anna appeared a few minutes later, with a fresh flu and zest for life reduced in no way. We drank chrysanthemum tea and talked about a number of things ranging from the priciest cars in Singapore, to the time taken to travel to Johor Bahru in Malaysia, the meanings of CNY traditions and the effectiveness of acupuncture on weight loss.

In the meanwhile, Linda called us to announce that she had lost her way and was trudging here through mean traffic. Anyway, no harm done, since we kept the Yu Sheng aside till she arrived. After she joined us, hassled, but smiling, we tossed the Yu Sheng while a waitress made a prosperity recital in Chinese. And then we dug in.

I don’t know the exact names of what we ate, but I do remember I’ve never seen so much food on my table at one mealtime. It truly signified incoming wealth and abundance. We heartily waded through fish and meat made of tofu, a birds nest soup, stir fried vegetables with mushrooms, and olive rice and washed it all down with a brilliant dessert comprising of mango milk, with sago and grapefruit.

We followed this with a visit to Anna’s house and met some of her family, including her daughter, her overjoyed dog, and three very curious guinea pigs. I also tasted some CNY pineapple tarts, but it was Anna’s Hong Bao to us, that made my day. We would have stayed longer, but unfortunately, stories were waiting to be written and sales were waiting to be completed. So we said our goodbyes and trudged back to the office.

It sure was fun, dining and laughing with these people, who apart from being my colleagues, are fast becoming very good friends. I not only pray but foresee very good times ahead for the individuals, who make the company what it is, and as such, wish all of SBB from the bottom of my heart - Gong Xi Fa Cai!!!

----Shreyasi(Twinky)Majumdar

Where there’s a will...

I heard someone say this once... "where there’s a will....500 relatives will appear". That struck a raw nerve inside somewhere and hence I decided to write me a will with very SPECIFIC people in mind. Just in case you die of boredom reading it I’d suggest you make a will of your own right away.
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT
I, Shreyasi Majumdar aka Twinky, also known as The Bandit Queen among select circles, currently above 18 years of age (although I keep hearing otherwise), of rotund but otherwise sound body and what my friends claim to be a completely unsound mind, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament (subject to as many changes as I can possibly make fervently praying that I have at least another 50 years to go!). All other wills I may have made in the past (refer to small chits of paper lying scattered around my boudoir) or passed on through word of mouth (no wait...that parakeet died I think), are hereby rendered null and void.
All my earthly possessions I divide among my loved ones as follows :- (for my spiritual, psychic and paranormal possessions, meet me on the other side)

1) To my darling father, my hero and my guiding light, I leave all my collected data on the paranormal world and unexplained phenomena...after all you are the only one who truly believed that I have been abducted by extraterrestrials...not once but many times in this life and those before resulting in my present state of brain-deadness (I know I know it’s not even a word)...only you believe that the weird bump behind my left year is not due to those malicious bee stings but due to an alien implant...only you agreed with me that there were flying machines like the vimanas much before the wright brothers...only you agreed to come with me to peru and nazca to try and jump into a worm hole and attempt to appear in another dimension...you alone respected me for joining the shamanic group on yahoo, you alone didn’t laff when I told you about the dropa stones and the mysterious han tribe in Mongolia...you alone showed more interest in the ancient Egyptian pyramids and the Bermuda triangle than even myself and so much more that people have scoffed at me about...(all the people present in the room when this is being read, wipe the grins off your faces...trust me my soul is capable of transmigration and I WILL come back to haunt your dreams if you poke fun at me after I’m dead and decayed). To my father, I also leave my collection of The X-FILES dvd’s I got from Shangai (Man those were a steal! RMB 400/- only for 57 DVD’S + movie...beat that!) books on the paranormal including the two books on government conspiracies and age old humans which I stole from the library (attribute it to young blood and a supremely anal retentive librairian) and which are hence unnamed (wait a minute Im dead already aint I...so heres to you library jerks that refused to lend me the book on crop circles...haha gotcha!). I also leave to you your paintings and sketches that you gave to me...I think no one will be able to take care of them as well as you and me...I also leave you the Titanic computer game...hopefully hopefully then you will be able to solve it!!! (if not my soul shall have no peace) as well as my two part STAR WARS trilogy...guard it with your life daddio! Lastly I leave you with all my certificates and awards since schooldays...I know you will take care of them as I have treasured them throughout...I know I didn’t traverse the path you would have liked me to but I would like to rest in peace in the knowledge that somewhere along the line I have made you proud...(duh! As if he cares now that Im dead)

2) To My wonderful mother, whose hand has guided me along the crossroads of life (very often with a hard whack on the butt), I leave all my written work, including my personal diary S.E.R.E.N.D.I.P.I.T.Y , my blogs “It’s all a Moo point” and “The Circumambient Cetacean” and my poetry. You have been the first person to encourage me to write (oh how I used to loathe writing those essays for that idiotic English class in school), and you will probably be the only one to understand the nonsensical things I write about...so all the best with that and if it’s too much nonsense just burn the manuscripts...ha ha. Oh and yes, I also leave you all my money, since Sushil has enough of his own and won’t be needing it anyways...just please Please don’t spend it all on bottle feeding the cows or building roofs for the bird alcove in the hospital....get that from donations. Now with all the money and possible royalty from the writing, you will never have to complain that Twinky bought “daddy the car and not me”...sheesh! I also leave you all my jewellery ma...except my engagement ring and mangalsutra...please keep the little gold cricket bat intact...we might need to loan it to sourav someday...maybe tht will spur him to play better...I also leave you ALL my saris...simply coz I’m sure you’ll put them to much better use than I ever did or pop and sushil ever could...and if your ever suffering from Parkinson’s, and have forgotten how to drape a sari, here is a perfectly good you tube link

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXJ9MgxXd2w that has worked wonders for me in my entire lifetime of perpetual sari-drape alzheimers...all the best!

3) To My husband, I leave all my clothes...keep them for a while, but please after three months or so give them to the salvation army or burn them...either ways don’t let the moths get to em! I also leave you my Harry Potter series (ahem!!! as of now you still have to buy me the fifth movie) and the Sherlock homes game, the Da Vinci Code game and the cake mania game cd’s...(you’ll need something cheesy to occupy yourself with now that Im gone)To my darling Sushil, I also leave the cook book I had written just before marriage...was all done for you sweetie...This book also comes with an extremely unorganized kitchen (I think a family of roaches has set up base behind the non stick frying pan on the second shelf...also Theres a box of payesh in the fridge which is growing green stuff...knowing me...itll be there till the day I die...so please put on your handy HAZ MAT suit and dispose it before it ‘gets you’. Also behind that there is a red box and I swear I saw it move the other day...so God help you with that)...whatever it is leave the lizards alone it’s their house too!!!! To Sush, I also leave my cycle...don’t know if that’s legally valid in this will since it actually belongs to you and you had just loaned it to me, but I thought I’d mention it anyways (professing self importance) since I wouldn’t want anyone else to have it...I also leave to you all my animation cd’s/dvd’s to remind you of the cartoon you once married (and if you want to forget that blasted incident just give them to Disha!) To Sushil I also leave my engagement ring and mangalsutra...do not...I repeat DO NOT cremate me with them on...the gold is wayyy too precious to be destroyed in a funeral pyre...I also leave you my Christmas lights, tree and trinkets, to remind you of how I used to light up your life and to also warn you that if another woman ever so much as comes near you, I will turn out both your lights for good...so there! Also I know you don’t put much stock in it, but I would like to leave you my SLAM book...it has many treasured memories from friends long gone...Please also treasure all the letters/ cards from my dad and mom, and especially the ones from you...only you know how much they mean to me so you’d be the best caregiver to the weathered memories.

4) To my grandparents, I leave you my best wishes for a happy after life, since I intend to live till 60 at least and I hope you have already reincarnated by then...it would be horrid of me to want you to stick around in this life just for me...so go on ... enjoy the rebirths!

5) To my good shippie friend Anshul, I leave my piano...there is music in your soul my friend and it really pains me to see you banging away on my piano when u come over...so just take it, get those piano lessons and become the best darned jazz pianist you can be... (you’re also welcome to take Sushil’s guitar since he doesn’t use it anyways)...let’s give the neighbours a dose of the insomnia we are all too familiar with...hyuk hyuk hyuk....)

6) To Anshul’s wife and my good friend Jona, I leave all my other cookbooks and also

http://www.singaporebusinessdir.com/Employment-HR/maid-agencies/ once you have gotten over the unforgettable Kini experience, go get yourself an efficient maid to clean up after you, during your experiments in the kitchen with my cookbooks! J I also leave you my DVD “Walk away the pounds” by Leslie Sansone, although I’m hoping by the time this will is read, both you and I will be thin as reeds and won’t need the DVD.

7) To Tamal Dada, Mitu Boudi, Raghavan Dada and Suresh dada, you’ll don’t need any material merchandise anyway thanks to Guru’s grace, so I leave you with my utmost gratitude for your complete wholesome guidance all throughout, my sincerest apologies for being a royal pain, and my everlasting love for you in God and Guru. Disha, I don’t have much to give you apart from my animations if Sush doesn’t want them and my F.R.I.E.N.D.S series if my best friend Shalini doesn’t want them...:-) what you CAN have from me for sure is a big hug, but I doubt you’d want to hug a corpse so I guess you’ll just have to depend on the good will of these guys and wait for the hand me downs....

8) To my best girl friend Shalini, I leave you my empty wardrobe(sush will have burnt all my clothes by now)...you have always hated my dressing sense and always wanted to change it...so here’s your chance...get sushil to tell you where all the great malls in Singapore are and go nuts! To my friend of adolescence, I leave you the remnants of our most beloved TV Series...F.R.I.E.N.D.S...All ten seasons...again.....go nuts! Oh and yes most importantly...I leave you to read this

http://www.relationshipatoz.com/ thoroughly...you’ll know what it’s for once the right men come flocking to your doorstep...and once again I proclaim GO NUTS GIRL!!! Hugggzzz...

9) To my close friend of yester years, Rajesh, I can only leave you with my sincerest apologies for not being there when you needed/wanted me to...I just want you to know that I loved you and shalu from the bottom of my heart then and I still do just the same...(PS sorry about crashing your new bike into the back of that truck...I was 17 and one has gotta blame the potholes!!!)

10) To Wilson, my best guy friend, and back up boyfriend for all time, I leave you the little bamboo plant you sent me from so far away on valentine’s day...it was one of those special valentines days I won’t forget...I want to also let you know how much your friendship has meant to me all along...these things don’t pass away with a human body...and before I get mushier, would also like to leave you a punched up face, broken limbs and black eye for all the mean things you’ve said to me so far...halloa!...never mess around with a girl...especially a girl like me !!! oh and yes before I forget I would have liked to leave you something else ... only I don’t have it thankfully! ... a picture of BURT REYNOLDS(not the actor)...all framed and hung up on your front wall...to torment you for the rest of your life...cheers Willy!

11) To my “wild” friends, Rohit, Jeherul, Amar Deshpande, Archana, Abhijeet, Riten and anybody else I’ve left out, I leave you with a bright future...because knowing that people like you exist in this world gives me hope for a better world tomorrow. I also thank you for some wonderful times in the lap of nature that I was allowed to experience in your company.

12) To my chuddy buddies, Rohit, Cookie, Nisha, and Sneha, I leave you with all our photographs of an era gone by...memories that are not meant to be trifled with...Keep them safe and away from anything inflammable please

13) To my old AIMS friends Ayesha, Amruta, Sanjay, Akashdeep, Zaid, Snehal , Prakash, et al, I would like to leave you’ll with the knowledge that you guys made a difference to my otherwise lonely childhood and I’m proud of the people we have become over the years. To Prakash especially I leave the “secret” technique you had shown me many many years ago to make brilliant decorations cut up from folded paper...I solemnly swear I have honoured that vow and never shared with anyone the childish pact made so many years ago.

14) To My SVPV friends, Sumi, savi, karnik, shabbir, yogi, zulu, pranay, anil, anshal, akshay, and all the rest of the gang...JAI HO! WE MADE IT PPL...although we did think SVPV would leave us stunted in growth as far as basic intelligence is concerned...we somehow made it...and therefore I leave you all with hearty congratulations for surviving “the school with more buses than students, worksheets and multi coloured PT uniforms” and more so for keeping in touch through the years...and lame as it sounds...I WOULD REALLY LIKE THAT REUNION BEFORE THIS STUPID WILL IS READ PPL!!!

15) To my Jangid friends especially Neha and Suji, I want to leave you with a note of thanks...for making those summer holidays not only bearable, but FUN! I know you wince now at words like DUBBA I SPY or LAGORI...hehe but then, it used to be music to the ears...Suji It was an honor serving with you in the rollerblading, badminton and sticker collection sprees...I hereby leave you with my currently non existent sticker collection and roller blades...I wish I still had them...Neha I leave you with Rs 20,000 for that bed I had promised you on your wedding...and wishes for a grand married life...(trust me its everything it’s made out to be...hehehehe{laffs evilly})

16) To my Guns n Roses friends from Bhavan’s, Shruti and Jay, I leave you lots and lots of hugs and good wishes...you brought smiles into my life during a troubling and difficult time and for that I am eternally grateful.

17) To Kannan, I leave my brain...hopefully now u’ll realize it’s a miniature...please go to the life sciences department at Xaviers and ask them to preserve it for you...they know me...they’ll do it at a discounted price...after that you can shrink my head and display it as a monument to absurdity!

18) To my in laws, I leave my singing voice...I know how much you’ll like to hear me sing and I am thankful for such a wonderful family that appreciates me so much. (There is an on/off button on it...please use as and when unbearability sets in...)

19) To Jane teacher I leave my undying gratitude for showing me what a teacher really is.

20) To the best boss I ever had, Russ Mc Culloch, I leave you best wishes for a happier, lighter (pls refer to the waxing deal) and carefree life (I think only voluntary resignation from SBB as ASIA Editor will aid the carefreeness J ). To all my other SBB colleagues, I leave a prayer for you for plain and simple happiness in whatever you do and wherever you go. You guys are the best bunch I’ve ever worked with and I thank you for silently enduring me all this while.

21) To Naeem and Vivek, the two people who have taught me whatever I know now of international trading, I leave my entire address book...stuffed with whatever contacts I have garnered over this time. Feel free to contact any of them and use my name as reference...(By the time this is read, they won’t be able to reach me...muaahahahahaha).

22) Lastly to my lawyer I leave this will, hoping that he is not comatose by the time this has to be read.

For all other clarifications speak to the above mentioned lawyer who I’m hoping will outlive me....of course with global warming going the way it is, we may have no need for this will one way or another!

Cheers from beyond the grave,

Twinky

Of Luchis and Sourab

Kolkata is a cheerful place. My gurudev was born in this city and this is reason enough for me to well up with pride and joy to have been born a native Bengali. Having been in Mumbai all my life and then having moved to Singapore, my “Bangali” characteristics have been much diluted. But a native Bangali will always be one come hell or high-water.

Kolkata doesn’t change. It’s as if the God of time has gone all around the world morphing it the way he wants, and then has stopped here to do a Rip Van Winkle act - just for the heck of it.

I came here twenty years back and today the same narrow streets meet my eyes. Wooden shacks on the roadside still serve tea to weary travelers as also to the average Bong in need of his three hourly “cha”. Dilapidated cycle rickshawallas still rampant in the city, are pedaled or pulled on foot, by malnutritioned yet ever enthusiastic Rickshawallas. I still fail to fathom the guts and dexterity with which cab drivers in the city man their humongous Ambassadors through the narrow gulleys and bylanes.

“Mishtaan Bhandaars” adorn the sidewalks, as mounds of “mishti doi”, “rabdis”, “rosogollas” and an assortment of “shondesh” in varied shapes and sizes, are made on the spot and sold off the shelf instantly.

The thing that strikes me the most even today is the laidback peaceful lifestyle that people like to follow in this city. Most shops and stores open only after eleven in the morning and close for lunch at one in the afternoon. Three hours and a siesta later, they open again at six in the evening and shut at ten in the night. People and animals draped all over the city , in shops, homes, under trees, and on the sidewalks, is a common sight during the non-working hours of the day. And of course Bengalis simply love to talk, be it business, politics, cricket, football, mishti, luchi or just idle gossip about the “pada”. “Adda” is an integral part of Bengali life, and no matter how busy or late for work a Bengali is, coming across a familiar face on the road, will instantly stop him and his counterpart in their tracks to chat for a while before resuming routine. Great intellectuals have been born of the state of West Bengal. Many revolutionaries in thought and action have been Bengalis. Philosophical, academically oriented and deep thinking, defines a Bengali as does cherubic, talkative and warm. A Bengali vegetable vendor would greet a passing visitor with the same warmth of word as if he had known him for ages. Never one to hesitate when help is required, one thing is certain – when you need him, a Bengali will be there with outstretched arms and generous heart, to ease your pain and tide you through your tough time, till you can take care of him yourself. Even then he will keep checking with you to make sure things are ok – and you’re related to him forever.

Kolkata is a city of Mother Teresa and Tagore. Compassion and art, poverty and generosity, sports and gossip, Victorian grandeur and broken grocery stores, and tonnes of books, form the framework of the city that is Kolkata. And of the people – What can I say? They love to eat and they love their fish. To a Bengali, a meal without “Maach” is like a night without stars. And life without cricket, is like a meal without maach. Sourav scores a sixer and Kolkata cheers as one. Sachin misses a century and Kolkata grieves for a month. Multihued and vibrant – Kolkata loves a good gossip and luchi is of course always welcome. It is a city of little people with big hearts, many people with simple lives, hard lives but contended minds. It is also as I said before, a city of Bengalis – a City of Joy.

------- Shreyasi Majumdar (Pseudo-Bangali)

Tomato...Tomaahto

I must have mentioned this a million times both to myself and the people around me...but it never fails to strike me how individualistic and unique every animal is. And by animal I do not mean the species as a whole, but the animal by itself.And every now and then, I come across the idiosyncracies of animals which seems to get me all excited, if not enable me to gain a deeper isight into their behaviuor.
i was in Mumbai on business for a couple of weeks this august. During this time I stayed with mum and dad and their pernacious cat mau rani.Apart from my usual duties of setting up business meetings, eating junk food and harassing mau by falling on her when she least expected it, I had other more mundane duties too like going vegetable shoopping and completing some basic household chores.
On one such evening, mum and me had gone out to do some general larder stocking in the mira road bhaji mandi at Shanti Nagar. Any one familiar with Indian mandis, especially Mumbaiya mandis, will have an idea of how chaotic and noisy they can get. A normal mandi scene would comprise of a string of vegetable and fruit vendors lined up, shrewdly and efficiently attending to the demands and needs of numerous people at any given time. Hands flailing in all directions, either to ask for a particular vegetable/fruit, or to refuse the given price, or to complainingly collect the loot, are representative of any mandi in Mumbai. In places like Kolkata, the "vegetable" mandi products extends to fishes, mutton and "bodis" too. Such is the colour of India.
Needless to mention, integral to any such veggie mandi, are India's famous pariahs...strays dogs of all possible shapes, sizes, colours and temperaments (In a fish mandi, one sees only cats lounging around). Also visible are donkeys, cows and occasionally also horses, lazily munching on the excess by products of the stalls. That evening I encountered one such animal Id like to tell you about.
She was this ugly little thing (but oh so beautiful). Brown and white in colour, sharp face, prominent nose and pointy ears, dirty profile with overgrowin toenails, I noticed her standing next to me staring one pointedly at this particular bhajiwala with a large stock of tomatoes.
We were haggling with him, trying to get him to downprice his lot, while this little dog stared on. I was fascinated with her rapt attention and so I went ahead and spoke to her. She just stared...no response. So I proceeded to stroke her head and talk her up a little more. Still nothing, though I did notice a slight shiver in the tail area of what I could only call "a statue of a dog"...:-)
Anyways to cut a long story short, I stroked, talked and cajoled, did my bit to befriend the animal, but I could not fathom the reason for her relentless attention. Just then our unassuming friend-the bhajiwala, said to me "madam, your talking wont help, she wants tomatoes."
He threw her a tomato,and I watched open mouthed as an otherwise ferocious carnivore, benevolently picked up the tomatoe carefully and bounded away with a joy that I could only relate to what a mumbaiite feels when Sachin hits a sixer. It took a while to sink in that this tiny little girl could be so happy with something as trivial as a tomato.
It kept sinking in more and more, each time she came back after wolfing down her tomato, to ask for more. I believe she must have eaten four or five while I was there with mum, buying our share of tomatoes for the week. And it amazed me.
I was amazed at a number of things which are so characteristic to animals, and so important for us to learn from. The little dog loved tomatoes and knew she wanted them. So she kept at it till she softened the bhajiwala enough to give them to her. What was more astounding is that in a world where we need pots of cash, tonnes of jewellery, swanky cars and gargantuan apartments to satisfy ourselves, a little dog could achieve that same level of happiness, with a couple of well earned tomatoes. Trivial? From our point of view probably. But from the dog's point of view? hmmm...I wonder...Could it be possible that such happieness is possible even for us humans with things as small and seemingly inconsequential as this? Is it possible to be happy just for the sake of happiness...? Is it possible that a mercedes, a penthouse in Bali, and a fruit could all amount to the same thing? Tomato? or Tomahto? I wonder...

Cross Connection

As a journalist covering the so called arcane steel industry, one would think that I have a run on the mill job with little or no excitement. But it’s actually quite the contrary. In a year of steel journalism, I have come across so many hilarious incidences and talked to so many “different” kinds of people, I am actually left wondering what it would be like, if I were a conventional journalist. But I don’t gripe. I enjoy my bits and pieces of fun, while I plod through vast numbers and facts about hot rolled coils and rebars. Today the episode was literally hurled my way…

Of course as it has become an occupational habit with me, I shall refrain from mentioning “names” of the people involved and thereby respect the privacy of my “sources”. Just to fill you in I’m on my way to Kolkata next week , to cover an iron ore seminar that my company is organizing there, and in the process I have been arranging a slew of appointments with possible future contacts. One such person is an international trader and handles the export of metallurgical coke that his company produces. I had been trying to contact him for a couple of days, but for some reason as it often happens, his phone line was unavailable.

Therefore imagine my surprise when the call did go through and the phone began ringing. Of course the ringtone seemed rather unfamiliar (I knew since I had been trying to call for sometime now). It was one of those really effeminate hindi movie songs, quite unlike the manly Bryan Adams number I had become accustomed to over the last few days. But I convinced myself that either his wife had changed his phone’s ringtone (I being a wife apart from a steel journalist bear testimony to the fact that we do that more often than we would like to admit), or his tastes had radically changed.

So imagine my surprise when the call was received and a woman’s voice floated through in hushed tones. This was very unusual because I had called him on his hand phone and his secretary answered only if I made the call to his landline. So I figured he must have left his phone at home and the woman at the other end was his wife.

I was just about to set the conversation ablaze with my customary cheery Hello followed by an even more cheerful “namaste”, when I heard another woman on the same line. For a moment I went... “woah…!!!” before I realized I had cut in on a conversation between two people I did not know, about someone who was also completely unfamiliar to me.

Now we all know that God has made us intelligent with the will and volition to make the right choices. And at this point, the right choice would have been to do the ladylike thing and hang up. But I must confess…I did the exact opposite. I listened on. And before you judge me…know this…if it weren’t for my sharp decision at that point, then there would be no witty anecdote to narrate at all. The conversation went some thing like this :


Woman 1 (lets call her W1) : Its true I heard it from Deepti (names changed on account of writer’s forgetfulness).
Woman 2 (lets call her W2) : Wow this is big news…how did It happen?
W1 : It happened how it normally happens Shoma…do I have to explain it to you step by step now?
W2 : No no, I know how it happens…I mean HOW ON EARTH did it happen?
W1 : Well it just takes two people you know. But Deepti never jokes about these things. I know for sure that she got pregnant and she was NOT married
W2 : Its not uncommon though…anyways what happened then?
W1 :It was a big scandal! Her whole family came to know of it…you can’t really hide a thing like that…and there was no news of the father either…
W2: What? you mean he vamoosed? what does Deepak have to say about that?
W1: I don’t know, I meant to bring up the topic with him, but how does one tell a woman’s ex husband that his ex wife is pregnant with someone else’s child?
W2 : Hmmm that is a pickle..what happened next?
W1 : He came to know anyways…as I said you can’t hide a thing like that
W2 : Oh My God!!! really?
W1 : No Im making it up… OF COURSE REALLY!!!
W2 : What a mess…he must have wanted to kill himself…
W1 :Actually just the opposite…when she had the baby….
W2: She had the baby? already??? its been sooo long?
W1 : Yes she went to that murky hotel…”The grand Maharaja” I think…and had the baby there…Its been two months already…are u ever in the know about anything that happens?
W2 : “Stunned silence”
W1 : It was a boy. And Deepak helped in the delivery.
W2: “More stunned silence”
W1 : That’s true love I think…
W2 : Are they back together??

At this point, I realized that I was privy to some gossip that I never should have eavesdropped on in the first place…and no before you ask me, I do not know if Deepak and Deepti got back together…I don’t even know who Deepak and Deepti are. But I have learnt a few things for sure….Firstly, that true love transcends all actions good or bad, secondly having a baby in a hotel may lead to reconciliation with the baby’s prospective father (I’m only speculating), thirdly gossip can be found where it is least expected (and trust me, it is least expected in the steel industry where the maximum that people can gossip about is how xyz mill had to cut 30% of its stainless cold rolled coil production or what political backing the government must be having for canceling the export duty on the much fought over commodities like iron ore) and lastly, cross connections have a freaky way of happening when one is least expecting it, so Watch out!

-------- Shreyasi M (Still learning, Steel Journalist)

Eye Of The Beholder

I will be honest. I have always held myself in low esteem as far as physical beauty is concerned. Relatively of course. I have been akin to marvelling at beauty in everyone I have come across. Even people who I haven’t met personally, random people across the street, I have stopped and exclaimed, commenting about something beautiful I noticed in him/her. I have managed to observe and extract at least one beautiful feature in a seemingly plain looker, in his/her facial features, hair, demeanour, gait...whatever has caught my eye. But I have given myself no such benefit. This has mostly been caused by the popular opinion that Twinky is extremely “cute” but never “conventionally beautiful”. And I have been content with that. I have been content with being “cute as a button”, cuddly, warm and affectionate, beautiful human being, possessing a thousand watt smile, twinkly eyes,...but somewhere inside I think I have always felt deprived of the “beautiful woman” feeling. Obviously it didn’t get better when I actually started morphing into a woman...till April 2009, when a singularly wonderful incident made an indelible impression on me and changed my perspective of my own beauty...for the better.
Being a steel correspondent, I have to travel quite a bit, but my business trips usually take me to India. However this April, my company assigned me to a trip to Shanghai, where my company’s main Asia office is located (the smaller one being located in Singapore where I work). I had to accompany an Indian government official who was to speak at a conference we had organized there.
I was a little apprehensive about going to China, this being my first international trip alone (normally I always travel with my husband) and a business trip to add to that. To top it all, I was worried about the food (I had heard horror stories about lack of vegetarian food there) and the language barrier was the icing on the cake. But I soon found out the error of my pre conceived notions. I received such a warm welcome from the Chinese people as well as my colleagues in the Shanghai office, I was overwhelmed. They took care of my food, shopping and other accessory needs. They even took me on an outing to a beautiful Chinese country side and the Tai hu lake on the outskirts of a town called Wuxi, which lies a few train stations away from Shanghai. In fact Wuxi is where I met my beauty nemesis and slayed it.
We were to visit a pipe mill in Wuxi , so we boarded a train from Shanghai and got to Wuxi in about an hour’s time. My visits to the Tai Hu lake with my friends and the beautiful countryside warrant a whole other travelogue and for now I will not venture into details of that trip. As we got off the train and out of the station, we searched for a taxi stand but unbelievably, not a single one was in sight and the incoming ones refused to stop. There was no way we could walk all the way to the pipe mill, since it is a good half hour’s driving distance away from the Wuxi station. So in an attempt to hail taxis, we started walking and must have walked for about 15 minutes, arms flailing trying to stop any available cab, when one signalled to us to cross the road and get in.
I have had some very bitter experiences with disgruntled taxi drivers in Singapore and as such, have been wary of entering into any conversation with them. I had no need to extend the same paranoia to Chinese cab drivers, but with all my human failings, I did just that. Not knowing the language made silence easier. I got into the cab, strapped myself in and got down to chewing my apple, while my Chinese colleagues began chatting with the driver.
In spite of my reluctance to talk to the driver, I did make a few observations about her though. She must have been about 35-40 years of age although it is difficult to tell with the Mongolian race...they always look much younger than they are. Like most Chinese women, she had a smallish frame, curly unkempt hair unlike the shiny straight hair so characteristic to the Chinese and noticeably shiny cheeks. She wore bright pink lipstick which seemed to accentuate the shine on her ruddy cheeks and her enthusiastic smile seemed to light up her small eyes. Instinctively my brain took in her pretty features and outputted some 7-8 “beautiful” things about her. Then I sighed to myself...wishing I had fairer skin, daintier frame etc etc etc.
By this time, my friends were intensely discussing a variety of topics with her, including her work routine, inflation, high cost of living, traffic rules, and road directions. Before we knew it, we were at the designated pipe mill, where a mill official (who was equally ruddy) was waiting to escort us inside.
We asked the lady to wait for us while we finished our mill visit, and invited her to join us for lunch later before she drove us to Tai Hu lake. She readily agreed and as we disembarked, she animatedly said something to my friend who immediately smiled broadly. While we walked inside I asked her, “what was all that about?” Knowingly my friend said, “She asked me to tell you something.”
Me??? Someone who didn’t even acknowledge her?? Who sat quietly through the whole ride?? Me??
“What?” I asked trying my hand at nonchalance and failing miserably.
“She wanted me to tell you that she thinks you are a very beautiful woman. Especially your eyes...she says you have beautifully large expressive eyes and wishes she had eyes like your’s,” my friend said, smiled and walked off.
In disbelief I turned around and saw the lady smiling at me. It was all I could do to raise my hand at her in acknowledgement and whisper ‘Thank you’.
The rest of the trip was a blur. I saw the pipes being rolled out of the hot rolled coils, I listened to my friend translate the sales manager’s woes about bad market conditions, I learnt about the various technologies used to make welded and seamless pipes...but all the while the woman’s words echoed in my head.
The trip to Tai Hu was an added bonus...the beauty and serenity of the vast water body and the beautifully manicured gardens and antiques filled me with a joy I had not felt since my trip to Hawaii with my husband. But the joy was multiplied manifold by the knowledge that I was indeed a beautiful woman. That I was no longer just a pretty girl, cute and cuddly. I was a beautiful woman. It’s funny how much easier it was to have pictures taken of me since then. The camera was not my enemy. My own perception of myself was.
What baffled me most was that it took a simple person from another part of the world to point it out to me...But that very same simplicity and the genuine honesty with which she complimented what I was always underwhelmed with proved the point...Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder...and when I behold myself as beautiful no one in the world can make me feel otherwise.
.....wonderfully beautiful,
Twinky.