Boolean

I believe that one does not need to be a geek to appreciate the beauty of boolean. I especially love it since school when it was the only thing in maths that was easy to score in. 

The zeros and ones, for me, also relate to the dots and lines of the hinduism universe at some level. 

But can we appreciate a human mind that works the boolean way? I have figured that I cannot. Somebody who cannot interpret expressions or read silence, dig beneath the surface or look beyond the sky, I am unable to have a conversation with someone like that. Maybe these are the people who are always sorted in the head and do not have incomprehensible muses. I have realised though that while I strive to disentangle my mind's wires, I don't think I want to be boolean in my mind. 

And this is the only logical reason why I am still not over you. 

For The Love of White

I want to write. I want to let it flow. I want to frame proper sentences, not join a noun, adjective and a verb. 

I know what is happening to my universe right now. I know it is a circle, the origin of which I cannot locate. I could hope that knowing about it would help sorting it out as well. But I think my monarch-ic ambitions would win the day I'd be able to achieve that. 

It is not flowing. Therefore, I am indulging in white.

Where's Goofy?

My obsession with myself and my mind doesn't need any testimonials. But the lack of something fun/exciting/not drab over the past few weeks has made me indulge in this by giving up on over an hour of sleep. Now tell me if you are offering me some money to let you click a picture of me too. No? Ok. 

P.S. - I have 21 GB of photographs on my system. #justsaying

For The Record

India has won. Fellow countrymen and women are all out on the streets. High-fiving through cars, bikes and even autos. Autos which have dozens of people in them each. Cars which had probably never used their sun roofs before. I saw a family distributing slices of cake to cars passing by. Smiling policemen only telling people to not swing from their cars' windows. Tiny kids not understanding what is happening but participating in the fun. 

Sachin had the best smile. The Vande Mataram chant was unmatchable. And the tears. Wow.

Feels good to have been witness to such history. And on an unrelated note, I will miss seeing Gauti in the Delhi jersey later this month. 

Faces I Saw Recently

I have had days when every person I see reminds me of someone I know/have known. Such days are rather creepy. But in the past few weeks I have spotted people on different occasions who look like people I have known. Some of them being...

Sayantani (pretty close to where her parents stay)

Rohini (with only the nose looking different)

Sumit (I think he has more than one look-alikes)

Aditi Raisurana (minus the specs)

Prashant (similar face with a similar height and build)

My bua (if she had a replica it was the lady I saw in the metro!)

Sometimes it's plain uneasy to go through this given the frequency. Isn't it?

Two Farewells and a Thriller

Saturday night was Saumya's last in Delhi. 

From 2007

She has moved back to Hyderabad, this time to spend a year at ISB. So a few of us from college spent the night at her place. It was a good eat-drink-laugh time. The conversations, we felt, had matured. We could feel that we're moving far away from what we used to be like a few years ago. How we can't relate to college goers anymore. How we could not stop talking about work. 

But mind you, we are not old yet. We had Britney Spears, some ooh-ah-ish songs on the radio, fantasies, bitching, and future plan talks with us too!

Mom was excited when I told her of Saumya's move. And I know for sure that she's gonna kick some serious ass there!

The other farewell was last night for Nehmat. She had been around for pretty much everything I needed through the past five months - from helping with work on a day that I felt that I may get fired to giving me company for a scary cardiogram. With it all she obviously has had to bear with my moods as well given that I was always on her immediate left. 

One of her avatars in office

She's loud, she's fun, she's emotional and full of life. She can have two drinks and do a sexy slither on the floor as well. She's moved on for good, and I'm sure will do something worthwhile and happy in the coming years. 

The thriller was obviously the India-Pakistan semi-final. Now what can I say about it that hasn't already been said. It was perfect. More so because it was in the middle of the week and I love happy Wednesdays a lot these days. :D

Wednesday was also Mom's happy birthday. On Wednesday I added some more white to my wardrobe as well. :D :D

It was a good week. With all this was a quick catch-up with Subhadip after more than two years, not much work, a productive business meeting, and a new type of martini discovered and liked.

The downs were there too. But what good will talking about them do me anyway!

Change of Plans

I have decided to buy the house before buying the car. 

The white dream!

About ten years ago I used to fantasize about the big red car. But everyone has a big red car now. And this one's the latest on my list of fancies. I'm guessing something better will come out by the time I am done buying the house, but if the succession was for tomorrow and day after, then my next weekend would be in this one! :D 

Fuchsiaa!

I got my first fuchsia wallet when I was in first year of college. It got stolen in third year, I think. I got my second fuchsia wallet a few months later, and I lost it in December last year. And now I have the thirrrd one! It's smaller than the last two, but it's FUCHSIA! :D

Bad self mode photo from the phone camera. But who cares! :D

16@160

It was 2007 when I first 'decided' to go to the Taj Mahal. Subhadip then made fun of me saying that I wanted to go there because it had renewed its status in the 7 Wonders. That trip didn't work out. Nor did any of the million others that I tried making between then and now.

So, my story remains the same as for all other trips. Weekend before last it was Priyam's office that killed my trip. Yes, I do not deny that the 'main to ja rahi hoon' thought did cross my mind. But Delhi as base is even harder to let that happen. I was thinking about how to get my way around it for the following weekend, and just then Varun called to ask if I was still interested in making the trip (he is one of the few people I tried asking that weekend). So we decided that we'd go on the 5th, keeping it tentative till Friday afternoon. No expectations, and still hope. Worked well for me. On Friday it was confirmed that the two of us were going, that we were taking his new car, that we will leave early, that we will definitely go to Fatehpur Sikri, and that we haven't found anyone else who is willing/suitable to join us. 

It was still dark when we left from my place at 6:00 am. Varun had been nicely deceived by Google Maps regarding the Yamuna Expressway - just like I almost had been too the previous evening. Google shows the complete route marked out on the app, not knowing that it is still not operational. The good thing about having done a few trips in the recent past is that now I always look for bloggers' experiences before heading out. Nothing beats the information that you get there. So I knew better than our driver about which route to take. :D

We missed the newly done-up Faridabad flyover and felt reeeaaally bad about it until we reached the toll collection point and figured that we won't obviously be paying money either. :P

I work for a firm that deals with a lot of urbanisation issues. I'd recently read about how in India development happens in such a way that the entire look of a street/area changes dramatically every few months. So much so that a person who visits after few years may not be able to identify things around at all. And that isn't necessarily a good thing. The same happened with me. I used to go to Faridabad every day in Nov-Dec 2009, but now the completion of that flyover has completely changed the entire space. Feels rather strange.

After about 45 minutes of being out, we faced extremely dense fog for a few kilometres. It was fun hearing Varun talk about Delhi's behaviour when there's fog or rain.

And then came the sun. I can't get enough of even mentioning how much I have started loving it. It is as if every part of my body comes alive when I encounter a happy sun. Very few things have the capacity to make me feel as good these days anyway.

About halfway down Varun felt like having a luxurious breakfast. Far removed from my hope of stopping at a dhaba; we googled and dialled The Taj in Agra to enquire about the breakfast buffet. It was fairly reasonable and was available till our expected time of arrival in the city. There! Breakfast decided. The hotel was earlier called The Taj View Hotel, now called The Gateway. And I wondered from which corner of the hotel could the Taj be viewed even till a few years ago.
The breakfast was decent. Just like in most other 5 stars that I have visited and ate at in the past few months. Maybe I expect too much out of these places, or maybe they really are as useless as I think them to be.

The Gateway from its gate

His breakfast happiness

We left from the hotel at around 10:15 am to wade through the city traffic and make our way to the Taj Mahal from the East Gate. At the parking I saw that we could ride a tonga from there. And excitement happened. :D I figured it was really going to be a luxury day trip and did not mind it at all.

From our tonga!!

We spent about 1.5 hours inside. Varun's repeated statement about walking into a postcard was partially true for me. I hated seeing the number of people that I did there. For once I did not like the presence of so many colours around me. And my love for white got reinforced rather strongly. I mentioned that it should be mandatory to wear white to that complex, and Varun feared my dictatorial thoughts.

Well, I really didn't know how to do justice to it!

I found this substitute for taking off shoes rather funny!

My first photo of the day :D

His already nth photo of the day

My knee, which had been behaving well the past couple of weeks, gave way by 12:30 pm. I was scared I'd ruin the second leg of the outing for us. We drove out nonetheless, on the awesomeness that the highway was. I fell in love with Varun's Vento that behaved so bloody well throughout the day. I felt bad though for the back that got a hit thanks to an invisible tree. But overall, it was t-o-o---g-o-o-d!

Vs

Between Agra and Fatehpur Sikri @160 kmph

My mind completely refused the idea of a wheelchair at Sikri. And I think my knee figured that well because it started behaving itself thereafter. And to put it on record, Sikri is the best of all such places that I have seen so far in life. I loved every bit of it. It inspired pleasant thoughts. It made me relate to it at a level that I did not think I ever could have. And it made me wonder what it would be like if I had a palace like that to myself as well. :D

Sikri

At Sikri

I can't figure the expression

From Sikri to Fatehpur was a little dry and rather hot. At Salim Chisti's I felt that I have no wishes that I would want to ask to be fulfilled. It was an overwhelming thought, however, I still managed to ask for the three that the place usually 'allows'.

Fatehpur

Salim Chisti's Dargah

---
There is still laughter in my head at the foolishness that we were with respect to guides through the day. But  it was all good since I had decided to take it easy. And the fact that it was Varun who was the diligent listener, not me, worked well.

The Foolishness :P

---

We walked around, bought more chocolates, and were on our way out by 3:30 pm. The drive back was less of speed and more of conversations. And about the fact that neither of us liked each other's music. It was again a non-stop drive, the big dent being the traffic after Ballabgarh.

Restoration on at Fatehpur - the re-done bits looked beautiful!

We were in Delhi by 8:00 pm. My call for wheat took us to Not Just Paranthas at GK 2. The place stank beyond belief. I still ate there because Varun told me it was a nice place. The food did turn out to be good, and I did not fall sick the next day.

Varun's carried over exhaustion from the previous day translated into madness by the end. But I was not complaining. I had had the most perfect 16 hours in the longest time! 

A wall at Not Just Paranthas

Varun and his socks at Not Just Paranthas

Away From The Women's Coach

She was beginning to hate the man because he had been in that seat since she had walked in. The seat she felt illegitimate ownership of. Simply because she hates standing through her journey. Just then he got up. Her day's first analysis didn't go wrong, she thought. She had expected him to get off at Chhatarpur. He got up at the next station. The discount is allowed. A minute or so after settling in, she noticed that the station had passed but the man was still there. And he remained until one station before hers. He made her morning by being so nice without an iota of expression of that favour.

And while he comfortably hung around, she noticed a guy sitting opposite her. Disheveled, unkempt, at least three days of not having shaved, exhausted, barely managing to keep his eyes open. But rather attractive, she thought. The Umbro bag by his feet, the Adidas shoes, a smart fleece, and a pair of jeans that she knew only looked good from a distance, added to the good looks. She did not realise she had been staring at him until his eyes suddenly popped open and looked straight into hers. She looked on for that extra second and then shied away, knowing he was still looking. After glancing through in both directions, conveniently skipping him, she looked back towards him a second time. His eyes closed again. Her now usual morning tiredness made both their body languages fairly similar. She watched on, admiring the perfect nose, the beard that she knew must feel soft, and the sleepy demeanour which looked like it was much deserved. The next thing she knew, he again caught her looking at him. It was funny this time. She thought of passing a faint smile, but could sense that he won't react. He seemed dazed. She looked away. She did not want it to repeat a third time, but noticed from the corner of her eye that he was now looking at her. She also watched him watch her get up, pull on her bags, and walk out. She guessed that his eyes closed immediately after. And perhaps she's the only one still enjoying the moment.

Or maybe he's still thinking how her shirt did not match with her sweater. And she's thinking, "damn, just this one day!".

Small Joys

It is 10:28 pm. The agenda is to be in bed by 11:00 pm. I don't know what I want to write about. All I know is that the blog is in dire need of something happy. Or at least something that is not morose. 

I could write about how I recently noticed in a train that all women around me had abnormally large feet. I could also write about how I now figure that there are many technically under-25 but health-wise over 40 people around. Or about how I am mentally ageing at the same speed as my learning in this organisation is going. Or simply how papayas, not any people are my latest dependency in life. 

But happy. Happy! What is happiness, I wonder. 

Happiness is my slowly evolving silk collection.

Happiness is getting to Gurgaon every day in under an hour.

Happiness is finally being comfortable in formal clothes. 

Happiness is doing government relations 

Happiness is having ticked off ten out of my 25 things to do for the September year-end. And I might just manage to add two more to that list this month itself.

Happiness is having gone about a month without the knee brace. 

Happiness is having gone international with my photography.
Happiness is keyboard shortcuts.
Happiness is orange.

Happiness is being at home with family. 

Happiness is inside.

Happiness would also have been these fonts the way I like them and not the way Google likes them.