After I got here the beach lazing lasted for only a couple of weeks, once the sister went back home, the school started taking over my life and the beach disappeared.

Sunshine was taken for granted and partying was at a bare minimum (except sudden bouts of euphoric behavior, of course)

Recently I realized I needed to make hay while the sun shined.

Chicago is next on the agenda once again the advice comes “Its going to be cold” “You’re going to freeze to death”

I think I’ll survive.

After maintaining moderate levels of insanity  on one of world’s most amazingly insane beaches, I can take on the world. Or so I think!

She doesn’t care if you call her and tell her the goodies were yummy, she doesn’t care if you thought you had never eaten better kajuche laadoo. Of course all that is important, but secondary. The primary thing to remember in order stay fed is return her steel ware. Always always return her steel ware. If you don’t she remembers and you’ve just isolated yourself into starvation of free homemade deliciousness.

It has become such a family joke that my grand father insists on gifting her dabbas and equates them to diamonds. After 55 years of marriage he sure knows his wife.

I was reminded of her obsession when I began to manage a kitchen of my own. My studenty kitchen will never compare to Munuaii’s delicious laboratory and I wont even try matching up to her high standards of curry, but I have inherited the deadly gene.

Every time I cook for friends and they don’t return my utensils my blood silently simmers.

I collect ridiculous amounts of jars. I have even at times bought jams and sauces for their pretty containers, and I guard them ferociously.

I love cleaning them with pipping hot soap water and drying them on the off-stove just like her. I dint realize my attachment to these inanimate lovelies till someone broke my favorite glass jar and I saw my heart in pieces on the floor…Yes we are maniacs, we have the vessel mania and I can only blame my genetics this time:P

At times like these, I wonder how different a certain piece could be or  how would a certain writer/editor/designer work on it. At one such wannabe intellectual time, an interesting thought entered my head.

What if I had gone to a better school for my primary education?

I went to a not-so-brilliant school for six years of my ten year school(pre-college) life.

The school didn’t entirely suck but I completely did while I was there. I was always in the under-performer’s division and never had the drive to do better.

Then, when I was eleven J. B. Vaccha happened. I was shocked to hear teachers talk in English. I slowly started adjusting. But the adjustment was super slow. For instance, I had single digit marks in Science. A subject I would score a 90/100 in the earlier school. I was broken and convinced that I was academically challenged.

It was not until the last year of school when I met some great teachers and scored a great percentage did I realize the worth of getting out of that stigma.

So getting back to the wonderment,this morning I wondered how different things would have been, had I started with a better schooling environment and once again a thought invaded my brain. I would have not been the person I am today. That progression from being around children from humble backgrounds to stinking rich  clan was necessary to help me stay grounded.

I would complain to Dad saying, “They are all rich dad’s spoilt daughters!” he would say, “What do you have to worry? You are a spoilt dad’s rich one!” and we would giggle.

I look back now and I am glad I started at the school I did. I would have had better academic environment or better pronunciations at a much earlier stage in life but the very core of my personality and identity would have been different.

My relationship with MTV slowly started evolving. I no longer wanted to see music videos because I could see them anytime I wanted to on You Tube, neither did I want my style check to be commercialized by some lame brand. I no longer wanted MTV on my “favorites” menu on the TV. Truth was MTV to me was one of the strongest brands since childhood and I couldn’t comprehend this switch, worse still, it failed to entertain me.

I thought it was true only of MTV India but when I see my friends love reality  on MTV in the United States, I get a little freaked out. Actually, it frustrates me that Music Television has become anything but that. I refuse to see couples getting weirdly hooked, bitchy girls sobbing, random people cursing, its has nothing to do with music, it is not interesting and anyway its definitely not entertaining.

Our school had the Creative Director for MTV give us a talk. I asked him my obvious question. “When did MTV make its shift from MUSIC to Reality?”. “We don’t just do reality, we do challenges, love shows,you guys don’t want to see just music anymore” he snapped back. He was clearly defensive.

I was relieved that at least I was still a part of their target segment, but what surprised me was in spite of being the target, I was not reacting to their media.

On my trip to New York City, I made it a point to go to the MTV store on Times Square I picked up a t-shirt that has the MTV logo with a broken leg. To me,  MTV has just met with a bad accident. It will soon heal and bounce back:) till then I will continue being a positivist.

Until then in my t-shirt, with a hopeful heart I shall sing, “I want my MTVVVVVV”

The sister went to see it while my school had just started, she came back with a non-stop rant about how she loved it and more so about how I would love it.

So it was decided. My first break, coinciding with christmas had to be spent in NYC.

Stoic plans were made, the ticket purchased(the first ticket I bought without a help of a ticket executive) many of these firsts were to follow, but this was a great start for my excitement.

Close family friends lived in manhattan and I was thrilled to be spending time with family, after so long.

So NYC, here I came.

I spent the first day walking the streets and thought of it as a warm up, little did I know I would want to walk on these streets everyday, well-entertained. I always, somehow found my way. It was a first timer for me, since I was so used to my  pathetic sense of direction. A part of my driving routine back home included  rolling down windows and asking cab drivers for directions.

In New York I never got lost, at times I even showed directions to some tourists. I was surprising myself everyday.

Now the roads were well-learnt. I had to soon learn to take on the Subway. The sister as talented as Columbus warned me it was difficult and not half as easy as the London tube that both of us had mastered over just two days.

So I was super scared. I tried memorizing the map but in vain. With extreme courage one day I decided to tide over geographic phobias and take on the Sub. So I did. Initially I stuck to only one line but after a while kept changing trains with super ease.

This was a dream come true couple that with bright Christmas lights all around and the humungous sales on my favorite brands. I was living the dream!

Dad had pulled a John Lennon and said you would be more excited to see NYC in Christmas than Jesus on Christmas.

I loved it. Walking the streets alone, discovering museums, spending hours in trial rooms, all of it.

Another thing about NYC’s vibrant character that I absolutely LOVED was the blaahness of New Yorkers.

People had loud and I mean loud conversations carelessly not bothering if someone judged them.

There were girls dressed as super models but there also was a lot of casualty, in everything.

I might sound like a little child besotted with the big city lights ,but guess what, I was!

Being back to the peaceful beach felt like going back into a spiritual trance after a life full of speed.

For now I am happy to be enjoying the seasons in the sun but will always cherish the first city I saw all by myself, and will wait for a second encounter with it:)

Me and my sister, being fans of the Dad, were fans of his music. It was something we bonded, extremely strongly over. Dire straits, Cat Stevens, Cream, Tom Petty , The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, the list was long

The sister was never too impressed by this certain band called “The Who”. Dad gushed about their music all the time.  I happened to sneak his car out once and casually played one of his CDs. I went crazy, I sneaked the CD to my room to listen to the album over and over again. It was Quadrophenia! I found Dad’s old “LD”  of the same album in our attic. The album cover had the best art work I had seen (after Sgt. Peppers of course).

Roger Daltrey swimming in a pool of baked beans(yuck!). I dint eat baked beans for a year after that!

By the end of that week I was listening to all their albums. I was hooked. I mentioned nothing to Dad. I thought he’d mock at my late realization. Until one day I was unknowingly humming BabaO’Riley and he leaped form his chair. “Where did you hear that?!”

“In you car” I awkwardly replied. “Oh! So you have my Quadrophenia?”

“I will soon return it” I added hastily. “Take your time.” he said with a big smile.

Till date, I continue being hypnotized  by  the magic of The Who. They stutter about a generation that lived its youth long before I did, and yet each note, each word relates to me. Like they say, there aint no cure for the rock n roll blues!

My red linen pants have a super special place in my wardrobe. I own them since the past five years and have bought them at a cheap mall in London.

In these five years, they have been worn for all occasions I can imagine. For boring social do’s, for college trips, and  to even weekend getaways.

During a college festival we were closing a deal with a sponsor, I showed up really late, groggy, in my bright red linen pants. I was terrified i had screwed up only to realize no one noticed anything and we actually closed the deal!

I am heavily superstitious about some things and I believe these pants have gotten me out of a lot of trouble, on several occasions.

I feel weirdly confident in them i love the way they fall on my not so long legs, i love how i can throw on any t-shirt on that tattered pair….

Above all what makes them so special are all the memories attached to them…

Did I mention its Halloween? One of America’s favorite holidays. I watch as people run home from work and since it’s still very early in the  evening it’s time for the kid’s halloween. The kids screech trick or treat to me in the porsche, i say “trick”, bewildered they storm off.

My road leads to Lincoln, the coolio hub for tonight. I see the early birds flock there. Not everybody is dawning a costume. Some go as themselves. I am still clueless about my own costume or plans. Friends  are hurling rude texts at me for not having  a chalked out plan and being so unsure. I do not blame them. So I get off the big stool place my psycho-edit behind and go to fix a last minute costume.

Happy Halloween!

Weekends include shopping for groceries, paying bills, doing the laundry, meeting classmates for projects, planning healthy meals, socializing  and playing soccer.

Above all what takes up my time, are classes and assignments.

I work for five hours on an editing software to realize that is exactly what I am NOT supposed to do! It’s frustrating! . The little time that I am left with, is spent talking on the phone with family and friends.

So, when I talk to the grandfather and he lovingly asks if i miss everyone, I ask him, where is the time?

To which he laughs of course, but it’s surprisingly true.

How is one supposed to know? That same morning I went walking to the bank, took the bus to the post office and was sweating in the sun. Five hours and bam! The town had gotten refrigerated.

I thought me being from Mumbai couldn’t handle the cold but everyone on the streets is wrapped up in jackets and mufflers. It is amazing how fashion changes overnight and how fashion reacts to environment and needs. This is one of the major reasons why I have never thought of fashion as fickle or shallow. Out came the boots instead of he flip-flops. Extra layer of clothing just suddenly became visible.

Fall is here, I know it wont be as serious as it is in the rest of the country, but then again that is the only hope of living off these cold windy days…brrrrrrr….