Guide to n semi introvert's way of spending the weekend

Hey ya'll!

Long time no see!
So college is over now ;( and I am now caught up in the rut of corporate life.
Among all the challenges that come with being part of the corporate landscape, the one that seems the most baffling to me is the constant need to to do something on the weekend! People wait so longingly for those two days of bliss, but is it bliss?! Spending your time hopping from one party to another, from movie to lunch to an evening of booze -  not quite my idea of a weekend but one that I see pretty much being done by everyone. But then if you don't do these, how do you answer "How was the weekend" on Monday ? (I think people just ask that so that they can tell how amazing there own was ;) ) Now I can't really tell them, I spent the entire two days curled up in my bed watching a show :D   Also, for people like me, interacting with others takes up a lot of energy! And after doing that for five days a week, I just like to be by myself on the weekend! An occasional outing is fine but I can't really be in a party mode for two days every weekend of the month. So what do I do? I don't really curl up on my bed for the 48 hrs :P (that would also be awesome though!) Thanks to all the conundrum on how do I spend the weekend, I have now picked up quite a few things!

1) Reading - I can't describe the sheer joy of sitting in balcony (the Pune weather does help!) with Ed Sheeran crooning to me and Ashwin Sanghi engaging me with one of his thrillers :)

2) Art & Craft - Historically, this area has not been my forte` , but Pinterest does keep giving ideas on easy DIYs which are so fun and have made me reconsider the status of my talent from "bad" to "not so bad" :P

3) Cooking - Since I have started living independently, learning cooking has become a necessity. I can't really survive on the regular daal chawal everyday, so weekend is a nice time to try some new things out :) You can surely come if you want to try pancakes, burgers, pasta!

4) Exercise - I used to go for swimming before monsoons interfered. I also like to plug in earphones and go for a walk :) Also contemplating starting yoga/dance sessions!

4) Movies, Youtube, TV - The regular stuff. Time to catch up on the latest ones.

5) Office work - haha! can't really survive without finishing up things due on Monday, can we?


So that pretty much covers everything I like to do on weekends! I do go out for movies, dinners sometimes, but my ideal weekend is spent at home doing the above things :)
Do let me know if you have any ideas on how **semi introverts** can fruitfully utilize their weekends :)

Have a crazy weekend!

Love, Vanya

The little birdy flies away

Many of us are at a stage in life where we are just about to enter the corporate world. It marks a very special stage in the life of every person. It’s a leap into an unknown and exciting arena. You are finally going to use all those class room learnings and experiences. Its time to apply those frameworks and theories! But along with this excitement, there is also trepidation. More than us, its our parents who are scared. Talking about my own personal experience, my parents have never stopped me from pursuing any of my interests by bringing up the gender card. They have always encouraged me to test my limits. But this time is a bit different. Don’t take me wrong, they are still encouraging and supporting me but there is also a bit of hesitation and fear in their minds. The recent news headlines about rapes, eve teasing, molestation do not help. And this is not only my case. These are common discussions in every household where the daughter is about to leave the safe confines of her home. Yes, the parents know that the girl is not at fault for wearing western clothes, she is not at fault for being out at night and she does not invite men to leer at her. These parents get angry and offended when our ignorant politicians blame the victim, the western culture and every other frivolous thing rather than the culprit. But when it comes to their own daughter, each parent tells her to be safe, to come home early, to dress up modestly. They know their daughter is doing no wrong but she is the one they love and she is the one they can talk to. When they can’t change the society, when they can’t change how boys are brought up then it is their own daughter whom they ask to change. Only because her safety is paramount for them. And it is at this point that the feminist in me has no answer as to why Indian parents do not give their daughters the same freedom as they do to their sons.  After all I can’t really blame them when they are just looking out for their daughters. I don’t really want to get into the whole discussion of what the government must do because I believe it’s a social problem. Yes, stricter laws, better police control will help but that’s just at the superficial level. How do you root out the underlying cause? I believe only education can help. Not only the formal education in schools but more importantly what is being taught to our kids at home. I know it is much easier said than done. I know starting tomorrow I am not going from home to home educating families but I am going to speak. I am going to speak up and join thousands others who want this scenario to change. All in the hope that our collective voices will make a difference.

Aprajita

Had written a short story some time back, thought of sharing it today 

It was a warm summer evening. Lying down on the terrace after a long day’s work, Aparajita couldn’t help but smile. After all Papaji had spoken to her today for the first time in three years. He had said he was proud of her. Tears came trickling soon after and Aparajita couldn’t help but think about the fateful night three years ago when she had told her family of her decision to cancel admission in IIT Delhi for M Tech and start up her own firm to educate farmers in the village. Papaji had been angry, she was the first in the family to go for post-graduation and now she was floundering it away for some stupid idea. She remembered how she had pleaded, how she had tried to make them understand that she couldn’t absorb the idea of sitting in an air-conditioned office while her friends in the village were crushed under mountains of debts.

 She couldn’t fathom the idea of another Madan. Mummyji had started crying in her typical way “We shouldn’t have sent her to the city, look what she has become now”. She remembered she had mentioned Madan in the hope that this might make her see her decision in a new light and how Papaji had exploded “Yes! I had warned him of the dangers of getting into farming and now look what happened, the same that I had feared; he committed suicide because he couldn’t pay back the loan”.

To her Madan was like her own brother. She had spent countless evenings with him while he had worked in her father’s shop. He had called up her one day when she was studying in the city “Didi, I am leaving the shop. I am going to start farming again on Bapu’s land”. She remembered the excitement, the energy in his voice. And then two years later he was dead, dead because his crops withered away due to lack of rain, dead because he couldn’t pay back the loan he had taken from the loan sharks.

It had not been easy. She had already lost her family’s support. Teachers and friends were also not very encouraging. They kept telling her to keep her dreams realistic. And they were not wrong, not many people from her village had gone to the city to study engineering. Rejecting a job offer and then rejecting an admission offer from IIT, she did seem pretty reckless and too ambitious for her own good. A single girl trying to set up a business in a village in Maharashtra, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. The farmers were not willing to listen to her. After all a young girl telling them how they should change their farming practices; it hurt their ego. But a few young farmers had come. She had arranged talks by experts on video conferencing. She told them about the government schemes for farmers. Slowly and slowly other farmers also joined in. She made sure they had the proper fertilizers, seeds and equipments. Her efforts did not go in vain.

It had been two years now and thanks to the increase in farm yield, not a single farmer committed suicide. A few local papers published her story which caught the attention of some NGOs in Mumbai. Aparajita was contacted and asked to share her ideas and set up similar offices in other villages to help more farmers. She put in her life in these efforts. This wasn’t just a business for her. It was a means to connect with her roots, it was a means to change lives of the people who had been left untouched by the growth being witnessed by the urban India.

Her offices were now present in twenty villages and catered to over a 1000 farmers. Three years into the business and she had already managed to break even. And then one fine day, something unexpected happened. Aparajita had just reached her office, her assistant came running towards her, “Appu, see, what has come!”. It was an invitation letter to the Republic parade by the Chief Minister, she was to be honored for bringing about a change in the lives of hundreds of famers. The news made the banner headlines and she was now a celebrity. Aparajita had become a living symbol of the adage, ‘Success often comes to those who dare and act, it seldom comes to the timid.’

Deep into her work, she was spending another long night at the office when there was a knock. Wondering who it could be this late at night, she opened the doors. Standing there were her parents. She couldn’t say anything, she just broke down. Buried in her father’s arms, she only remembered Papaji telling her how proud he was of her, how much he had missed her these three years and how he had followed her every move and action. Tears did not stop, words could not do justice to the waves of emotions in her heart. The big wide hollow in her heart had finally closed and she knew life was going to be better now. 

A Dark Night

On night like these
the world seems still
but your mind is in a hurry
I dont know why and I never will
The inner turbulence
The outer serenity
Is that a mirage?
I dont think so
But I dont seem to reach it
Is that the forbidden fruit I cant have?
As the night gets deeper
Is not the sunrise getting nearer
Why the sudden deluge
Why the deep agony
Tearing through me
Engulfing the night
In the blanket of silence
But I see the light
I believe the light
As I always have and I always will...

Tales of budding managers

So I was thinking the other day its been long since I have given a status update of where I am, what am I doing. And yes I am a little narcissistic and want to talk about myself for a while. So BTech got over last year(sigh! Whether this sigh is of relief or of sadness is something of a mystery to me too, so we will just pretend to ignore this now).  Those of you who know me, know (a little too much for their comfort) that I love planning, when I say love, I mean I really really enjoy planning. So I had planned in class 11^th properly how I was going to become this really hardcore engineer, you know all geeky types. As the future became clearer, the plan finetuned to becoming a kickass computer engineer, hacking into systems, doing real spy stuff (partially because becoming a spy was part of an earlier plan). And then in the third year of college, I followed the crowd and joined CAT coaching. Somehow cleared it in final year (God! Smart people must have really stopped giving CAT or maybe I had actually become a real cool hacker, after all the exam in online now) and here I am now in a management college.  So the couple of months before joining, the planning commission headed by me (and having only me as a member) started making new plans. The new plans included making plans to appear very busy always (managers are supposed to be busy people, they have to do real important stuff like writing blogs on stupid topics). So now that I am here, I am always very busy. You ask why? Because as a management student, I have to be, it’s the only requirement to study management, you have to be always busy. We have just too many assignments and reports and sheets to submit. And stupid Mr Turnitin doesn’t let us management students use our holy mantra Ctrl C + Ctrl V (if I did a survey on the most hated software in my college, pretty sure, our dear Mr Turnitin would win hands down). So getting back to being busy. I know you must all be thinking, WoW, assignments on your own, that’s really some work. Well you are just a bit off mark. We are always busy doing assignments, just when we say doing, we mean paraphrasing wiki pages so that Turnitin uncle doesn’t catch us. On the rare occasions when we are not doing that, we are scheduling meetings. Oh yes, never mind that we are still students but what is management without meetings. So we are sending mails to our groups, a typical mail would go something like “Guys, Lets meet in CC at 10 pm to discuss the project”. Turn to 10pm, 2 people out of 7 reach CC, bitch about how the other 5 are freeriders and go back. Repeat the whole exercise every week for the entire semester and then do the actual work one night before submission.  What else keeps us busy, well what would all this hardwork be if not complemented with parties. So we have parties. Now its exactly like those glamorous parties you see in movies. Just instead of a cool location, we have booze, and instead of food, we have booze, and instead of games, we have booz and then ofcourse there is more booz. So now you get the idea, we are always busy. So whats the most important takeaway from this piece of article on which you just wasted the last 2 mins of your life. The takeaway is never ask a management student “Are you busy?” because you already know the answer. We are always busy.

I would have loved to write a little more but pardon me, I am busy.

Disclaimer: The above is just a piece of fiction and any resemblance to real life events is purely intentional.

कर्म की याचना

रोजाना आँखों से देखे

हम तुम सपने हज़ारों

सपने तो देखे है सभी

पर क्या सच होते है कभी

खुशियों का क्या करना

वो तो बेशुमार है

सवाल तो है ये खड़ा

क्या तुम्हारा दिल है बड़ा

दूर खड़े तुम रोते हो

अपने अंश को हर श्ण ढूंडते हो

आओ ज़रा आँखें तो खोलो

सिर्फ बगईओं में ना खिलते फूल

सुगंधित पर वो भी होते है

दिल तो सबका दुखता है

पर क्या आगे कुछ तुम करते हो

कभी तो हम सब कर्म करे

कब तक शर्म से मरे

किलकारियों की गूंज को

मातम में ना बदलने दो

ए ज़िंदगी अब तो मुझे कुछ करने दो

Books and Memories

Ahh! Back here after a long time. Basically this means there is something going on in my head and I am in one of my **stay away from human communication** moods. So I am here to vent.
I was just going through quora, chanced upon a couple of questions on books. Wrote an answer for a Harry Potter question. In the midst realized how much time has changed. Its been ages since I read a book. I guess I miss reading. It used to be a world of its own, letting your imagination run wild. Seeing the characters develop in your mind, the moment when your heart skipped a beat seeing your beloved character in danger because it wasn't just a character at that moment, it had become your friend, it had become someone you had known for ages. Remember sitting on the study table, pretending to read RD Sharma when you were actually hiding a novel behind it. Remember finding your spot near the balcony and then spending your entire weekend there with your beloved book. Remember getting annoyed when people folded book pages. Remember getting super annoyed when people thought using marker in a book was cool. And remember getting really sad on seeing a torn book and then spending hours with your mom on trying to repair and bind it again. I remember the time when I knew every corner of the fiction section of my library. I remember Ghosh Sir from JB, the school where I first fell in love with books. I remember how his face used to light up on seeing me enter the library knowing that I had come again to eat his head and yes, to borrow more books. I remember reading famous five and wondering when will my adventure time come. I remember reading Harry Potter and waiting for my Hogwarts letter. I remember reading Dan Brown and seriously contemplating taking up History as a major. I remember reading Nicholas Sparks and crying because the emotions got too much to handle. I remember reading Amish and debating with my friends on why Indian authors and the Indian mythology had a lot on potential. And I remember those Bangalore bus rides when Howard Roark gave me company.

Oh! Nostalgia...thou art a heartless bitch.....