If you live in Chennai and haven’t taken a share auto ride, you haven’t lived in Chennai. They’re one of the most convenient and cheap modes of transport although sometimes you’ll have half your butt in the air. But it’s better than taking a bus in the city during peak hours, unless you like being stuffed up somebody’s armpit. So on my latest share auto ride, I traveled with two mums and their sons. Bless ‘em. They didn’t know each other but their sons were the same age, I’m guessing about 14. So they instantly connected in a “No way! My son is definitely smellier than yours” way. Not that I’m nosy or anything, but when aunties talk, even music blasting through your headphones isn’t going to shut them out.

So they talked about CBSE’s maths syllabus, manga rasam and traffic cops & their big bellies, while one son sat there staring at the floor like a zombie, and the other noisily drank crushers from his KFC glass. Oh, and I know how much each of their husbands earn, how many square feet their bathrooms are and what cars they have.

Completely absorbed in gossip, one mum took out a candy from her bag, refused to give it to her son, and simply tossed the wrapper out the window! I swear I didn’t react, but I don’t think my poker face worked because the son looked at me like I was crazy for staring at his mum. Just let it go, not your place, I thought.

And then the other kid finished his ultra fatty drink and went- “Finished ma”.

Mum: “Here honey, just toss it out.”

:-O :-O

God knows which ones we need: mothers who teach their children the importance of civic sense and being good citizens, or mothers who plan out FIT-JEE training sessions and best methods to answer CAT papers when their kids are 4!

Credit must be given to the second kid, he looked at me completely embarrassed as I shook my head at him in disapproval.

“Don’t do that again, Ma. It’s not nice.”

You don’t realise how much you’re dependent on something until it’s gone. When the power goes out for two hours everyday, I become extremely unproductive. I can’t use my poor old laptop, there’s no fan, no A/C, nothing. Come to think of, there’s so many things you do everyday without using electricity. But when power is taken away from you it makes you go *RAAAGEEE*. And so I pick up my laptop and head to the nearest coffee shop that will let me sit there for a couple of hours. Needless to say I’ve been on a rather unhealthy overdose of caffeine lately. I suddenly know lots about coffee, who wants to know the difference between cappuccino and latte and frappe? Ask me anything! I’m going to get them to teach me how they do the arty patterns on the coffee next.

Tamil Nadu’s industry is taking a bad blow with these crazy power cuts. Chennai is simply not prepared for this kind of growth and we’re going to seriously suffer with the water situation next. Deja vu, anyone? Remember when we had to smuggle tanks of water so we could bathe? Not looking forward to that again, thank you! When I think of the serious resource crunch we are facing I cannot help but wonder why sensitivity towards them hasn’t increased.

Coffee shops and restaurants, you really don’t need to have lights on at tables that aren’t being used. Nobody is sitting there, switch em off!

Do you really need an entire bucket of water to pre-soak one pair of jeans? Reuse that water afterwards for plants or cleaning your bathroom or sink, don’t just wash it down the drain.

Switch off switch off switch off! Even if you leave the room for a couple of minutes, switch off! It really annoys me when people don’t switch off lights and fans.

Annoying thing #45: Leaving the water running when you’re brushing your teeth/shaving your legs. Seriously, we can’t afford that kind of fresh water run off.

Understand the science behind atomic energy. It seems like an inevitable solution to India’s energy crunch.

If you have a bathtub in India and you actually use it, we need to have a talk.

This power crunch is so bad, even if the power doesn’t go out one day, I’m still unproductive for those two hours simply because we’re so used to it. Play your part, people of Chennai. Don’t waste power, we don’t have any.

My biggest weakness? My disgraceful sense of direction.

Plonk me in the middle of Chennai, the city where I have lived my entire life, and I will not be able to find my own way back home. I know my way from home to college, and from home to the famous places. Spencer’s Plaza, Satyam Cinemas, Besant Nagar Beach and Kryptos (Yumm!). Ask me to go to any other place and I have to ask my way around. And when I do find the place, I just can’t seem to know how to get out again!

This is so bad. I studied geography in school and I still can’t read maps. I remember picking up a map once, thinking I was being Ms Smartypants so I could say “Aha, this way people, follow me!” But I ended up reading the map in the opposite direction and simply could not understand why in the world I wasn’t reaching the places I was supposed to. “This map is utterly useless, these people don’t know how to make maps. That’s not East, that’s West. Useless.” That was my decision and I was sticking to it.

I got lost at the big massive Bangkok Airport once and was in tears because I could not find the way to my flight. I went out for a walk with my mother once and she purposely led me away from our destination to see if I would notice. I didn’t. Disgraceful. On a train to Bhopal, my family would know all the stations we were going to cross in the exact order. I just sat there and looked out the window at the cows. Why is my sense of direction so bad? Is it something I could learn? I’m quite a keen observer; I notice things and I never forget a face. But my mouth twitches like Sheldon Cooper’s if you ask me if you should go left, right or straight. I wish schools would teach more practically useful things rather than tan and cos and stuff I’m never going to use in my life ever!

My professor asked me to stick a piece of paper at Guduvancherry on her huge Tamil Nadu map a few days ago. I stared at the map for 15 minutes before I could find it. Studies say there is a difference between men and women’s spatial intelligence. If that’s true why do so many men I know have to use GPS? That’s rubbish too by the way. My friend and I followed the GPS on her phone and it took us to a dead end where the only life form was a chameleon that landed splat on our car.

Seriously, CBSE, start teaching useful things!

Next step: buy a huge map of Chennai and learn where what is. I must.

Before I begin, I must give you an introduction to this lovely, priceless lady: our maid. If she needs to call you up to tell you she’s going to be late today, or that she has to go to koil, she’ll call you from her brand new Nokia cell phone and use her Bluetooth device to do so. There’s just one tiny problem, she thinks she’s speaking to you from Alaska and will *yell* into the phone. So the conversations typically go something like this:

Me – Hello?

Her – *HELLA? IRUKEEYA?*

Me- (moves phone away from ear) Aan solanga enna achu?

Her – *Hella? Hella? HELLA?*

Me – (sigh) *HELLA*

Her – *Ah, seri-ee, naanu, iniki varale*

Me – Why? Enna Achu?

Her – *HELLA?*

Me – :-/  *WHY?*

Her – *Adhu vandhu-uu, yen ponnu ku haspital kootin pono*

Me – Seri, no problem

Her – *Aah seri, vechita?*

Me – Aan, veingu

Her – *HELLA? VECHITA?*

Me – *YES! BYE!*

After these conversations that occur oh so often, I walk around speaking in the same volume for a couple of minutes. It takes me a while to realise what I’m doing and a few deep breaths to stop.

She’s been trying to get her daughter married off for a while now, but hasn’t found the guy worthy of the Suzuki bike she’s saved her entire life for, yet. Worried, she took her daughter to a fortune teller who looked at her kundali and told her she was cursed. She couldn’t get married till she reached the devastatingly old age of 27. Our maid went into a fit and sat with her head in her hands in the balcony for a few hours everyday wondering what to do with her daughter for the next 7 years, and crying over how many more bikes she’d have to buy because who wants to marry a 27 year old?! Having lost every ounce of hope she had, she enrolled her daughter in a 3 year BA degree course.

The other day our precious maid came up to me, asked if I was free and tucked her saree in. Now she only tucks her saree in if she’s going to mop the hell out of the floor, or beat some poor man up. She scares me a little bit. She throws things around when she’s upset. So if she’s talking, you listen.

Her – When were you born?

Me – Uhh, October

Her – No, which year were you born?

Me – (I backed into the chair a little bit more) 1989

Her – So that means when was my daughter born?

Me – Umm, 1990?

A look of horror crossed her face and she froze for a few seconds. Her scary, heavy presence made sure I froze too.

Her – *AARRGGHH! I TOLD THE FORTUNE TELLER SHE WAS BORN IN 1991!*

Me – ROFL!

I am totally not her favourite person right now, I do not get my rice the way I like it, my towels have disappeared, and I am being completely ignored.

College is coming to an end. Very soon it will all be over, for good. I felt very satisfied, but a little bit sad when I finished my Fine Arts degree. Now, I couldn’t be happier to be done with studying! Mum says: Do a PhD! Well maybe 20 years from now, mother. As of now, I’m just way too happy to be out of it all!

I’ll miss it, I’m sure. I’ve learnt to deal with SO many different kinds of people. To hear that it’s only worse outside and that you have to be thick skinned to be a good PR person, makes me very unsure of everything. But I’m sure it’s going to be fun. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The Commissioner of the Corporation of Chennai, Mr PWC Davidar, IAS is going to be coming to campus soon! Fingers crossed it all goes well.

Check out the very cool song we created here. It’s been so much fun!

Below are some videos that my classmates put together for this wonderful campaign. Take a look! I absolutely love them all.

This campaign is making my head spin. Really, really, really spin. I’m sure everyone is feeling the same way! There’s lots to be done, lots to be decided, lots to deliver. We have the support of the Corporation of Chennai, all the more reason to deliver!

If nothing else, I’m learning some hardcore team work. 18 girls in one room, working on the same thing, believe me, is not easy in any way whatsoever!

We have different ideas, we want different things, there’s love there’s hate, there’s ecstasy there’s misery, there’s emotion there’s blankness.

Fingers crossed!

http://plasticsalai.wordpress.com/

English is a strange, strange language. And when you are Indian and speak three other languages, it’s even worse. Many people I know get their apostrophes wrong. So once and for all, this is how you use them!

When a letter is missing you substitute it with an apostrophe:
I don’t care for apostrophes.
This isn’t what I was looking for.
It’s a sunny morning.

When you substitute for the word “is”:
My shirt’s stained.
Ray’s a funny, funny man.

When you hint possession:
You’re sitting in my dog’s chair.
These were her grandfather’s shoes.

When you hint possession of plural nouns that end with an “s”:
The girls’ dinner should be ready soon.
The phones’ batteries need to be replaced.

 When do you not use an apostrophe?

When you hint possession, but with a possessive pronoun:
The box is theirs.
Ours is not a constructive strategy.
Isn’t this purse hers?

When you use plurals!
Hello, ladies.
I follow a large number of blogs.
Would you like apples or oranges?

What happens to apostrophes when you use abbreviations or years?
BPO’s/BPOs?
TNC’s/TNCs?
1960’s/1960s?

Err, I’m really not sure about this one! People are divided on this and I haven’t decided what my take is yet.

Any English pundits know what to do?

Everybody has heard about the flash mob at the Mumbai CST station. I watched it for the first time yesterday and it blew my mind! The official video is moving, you must watch it if you haven’t already.

So I did a bit of reading on flash mobs. Studying art for three years has opened my mind enough to completely understand why somebody would want to be a part of a flash mob. Creative expression, a compulsive need to tell yourself that there’s nothing that can stop you, a strong acceptance that it doesn’t matter if people don’t understand what you are doing. Just as long it makes you feel happy and you know you have found a medium to bring out what’s on your mind and in your heart.

It must take so much determination and self confidence to do something out of the ordinary. In March of 2007, a Manchester supermarket saw 50 people freeze frame for about 4 minutes. Stunning, really. Or the flash mob in September of 2008 where a bunch of pregnant ladies broke into a crazy dance routine in London to shed light on the poor conditions in which women in underprivileged parts of the world have to give birth to their babies.

An amazing flash mob in Mexico managed to bring together 13,957 people to dance to Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Or the one where over 20,000 people danced to Black Eyed Peas’ Tonight’s gonna be a good night! Thrilling.

The way I see it – Flash mobs = People Power.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter where you’re from, how old you are, what caste or race you belong to, or which God you choose to worship. Suddenly, you are part of a group of people who decide to do something for no apparent reason, with no apparent result apart from the sheer joy of it. Imagine what the world could achieve with this kind of power. If only we harnessed it.

Goosebumps.

Never had I imagined that I would be spending two days in a massive kitchen of a massive hotel in a chef’s uniform among so many chefs. Never did I think that a chance of this kind would come my way. I haven’t really ever been very fond of the kitchen. If anything, I’m fond of keeping it clean, but have never really felt like experimenting or looking up cook books.

Now I was supposed to be done with my internship in the Marketing department, but I thought hey, while we’re here, why not try and see if the kitchen is open to letting me in for a day or two. I was surprised they said yes! So I was given my chef’s coat, trousers, apron, cap and gloves and was shown around the massive kitchen. It absolutely overwhelmed me! Some excerpts:

Chef: So this is our walk in freezer, its below 5 degrees in here
Me: Y-yeah, it’s amazing!

(After spending 10 horribly cold minutes in there while she explained so many things to me, waiting to step out into blissful heat again)

Chef: And this, is our walk in deep freeze, its minus 18 degrees in here
Me: *open mouthed, frozen fingers* Wow!

(By this time I was shaking from head to toe hoping to God that there wasn’t going to be another freezer!)

I was then taken to the bakery where I helped arrange desserts for the lunch buffet. Once that was done I was shown to the Commissary where the chefs asked what I wanted to do. Knowing close to zilch about what a Commissary does, I could only blink at them. So they gave me some 20 carrots to peel and chop. This is easy, I thought. And then came along a chef who did all he could to keep himself from laughing.

Chef: What are you doing?
Me: Err, chopping carrots?
Chef: * smiles * Here, let me show you how.

And this kept happening. It took FOUR chefs to show me how to chop up carrots properly! And just when I thought I was done for the day, having chopped 20 carrots and all, along came another massive trough full of carrots. There were probably a hundred of them. It’s like it never ends! They’re chopping vegetables all day long!

I also got to make some sandwiches which were to be served to the guests in the executive lounge. I think I gave the chefs a good laughing spree again. But despite the fact that I couldn’t cut carrots or arrange pastries, the chefs were so, so nice to me. They made sure I was comfortable, they made sure they spent time with me, and they made sure I never got bored. I felt surrounded by dads

What amazed me the most was that everybody knew exactly what they had to do at all points of time. Nobody had to ask anyone, nobody had to tell anyone. This is what I call fabulous communication. Twice a day, all the chefs in the kitchen get together for a briefing session with the executive chefs and everybody knows exactly what to do. They even know exactly what the other person has to do. No confusions, no miscommunications. Just a group of passionate, dedicated, hard working, talented chefs. I can see now that being a chef is so much more than donning a hat and being able to cook a tasty meal.

Thank you, chefs at Courtyard Marriott Chennai, I’m never going to forget any of you.

Was I surprised when Jayalalitha won? Nope, not one bit. Was I surprised to hear most people voted for her simply because they didn’t want DMK anymore? Nope.