Friday, June 29, 2012

khaana kha ke jaana

So this school friend of mine is getting married tomorrow.  Well, technically, today.  I've been attending her pre-wedding functions since monday and let me say, I am blinded by all the bling I have witnessed in past few days.  She's a Sindhi, and with all due respect to the community, there is only this much bling my eyes can take. 

Not that it's a bad thing.  Gujarati weddings are also colourful affairs.  Just that we have less bling, and more colours.  I, personally do not like dressing up.  I am usually the odd one out at most weddings, with simple cotton dress and some kajal as makeup.  Last few days I felt so out of place, I was hiding myself in the corners because I thought everyone will keep staring at me for wearing something so simple.

In the meantime, one grandma was chatting up with me in Sindhi for good 10 minutes before friend's mother pointed out that I don't understand the language, and I think she cursed me before ignoring me completely for the rest of the function. 

And then the dance.  These guys just do not get tired.  Yesterday, at one point, everyone broke into a Garba, and the only Gujarati under the roof was sitting in one corner, tweeting how everyone is dancing on Garba beats.  That is how socially awkward I am. :|

And then, today was the "ring ceremony".  I have learnt my lesson in past few days that none of the functions start on time.  If they say 7:30 pm onwards, it means if you reach at 7:45, you will be the one supervising the hotel staff in arranging chairs.  Family will also come in fashionably at 9:00 and the bride and groom make a grand entrance at 10:00 pm.  Abbe, khana kab khilaoge?

So today, for the 7:30 pm onwards wala function, I went at 8:30.  I had a talk with friend's sister who gave me directions to the venue.  As soon as I was parking, I see a couple of people getting off a taxi, wearing heavy dress get off.  I quickly parked the car and followed them.

As usual, I could not find the family members or one or two familiar faces I saw daily.  I looked around, and then found myself a secluded corner and made myself comfortable.  I looked up my twitter timeline, and generally acted busy.  We all know the benefit of smartphone.  I was offered watermelon juice and some vegetable crispies, which I devoured.  Hmm.  And then, it hit me.  Everyone around me was talking in Gujarati.

Wait, what?


Panic attack.  What? Where am I! No bling bling outfits, but red, green, yellow bandhanis. (pls google bandhani - it's a lovely saree style). I quickly put the watermelon juice on the floor and walked out.  I called up friend's sister, and asked her where they were.  She told me they had already reached and the function was about to start.  She almost laughed while asking if I got lost again.  I said no, because I was in the premises of the stupid hotel. 

And then I saw it.  I was attending "40th wedding anniversary of Jayantilal and Maniben Patel".  Ring ceremony of my friend was in *another* banquet hall, next to the one in. 


I had half mind to go and wish Mr. and Mrs. Patel on their achievement, but I could not get over the fact that I had just gatecrashed a party. :|

Of course, the rest of the party that I attended was of my friend, which was fun.  Except for the part where they were playing "happy birthday to you" instrumental when they were exchanging rings.  Turns out only I noticed the song and no one else found it funny.

On that note, I will watch You've Got Mail, again, while munching peanuts, because after those vegetable crispies, I was too shocked to eat anything there.  And I'm hungry, and I don't want to go and make maggi right now.

Sunday, June 24, 2012


So like every other post of mine, this is not going to make much sense.

You know what has been my problem? I don't talk.  No, I mean, I do talk. A lot.  But I rarely talk what is going on deep in my mind.  What has been bothering me. What is wrong with my life.  Yes, career part aside, which is driving me crazy anyway, there is a part of me, the secluded corner of my heart which even I rarely visit.

Even when I do, I want to shut itself up, and pretend as if everything is all right.  Yes, I like to pretend that it will all be good, and I am too coward to face "it".  Someday I will gather up the courage to face my fears, but I don't see it happening all by myself.  I guess I like to pretend that I am strong enough to take care of myself, but deep inside, I know I want an emotional support.

Yes, everyone tells me to talk whatever I feel like, but life would've been so much simpler if I just listened to them.

Give me that trust that whatever I say, you will not judge me.  That you will not abandon me.  That you will just listen.  I don't want to talk about my fears to an anonymous person.  Not just a screen name, but a real person.  Even writing this has taken up a lot of courage. 

I'd like someone to ask me what is bothering me, and not give up asking till I give in and pour my heart out.  I need the reassurance that you will not run away.  Like everyone else has.  And I'd like that friend to come into my life now.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


Dear People of India,

This is with respect to the current political scenario which has been bothering us for a while now.  With 2014 elections 2 years away, who will become the Prime Minister is the question everyone has been asking.  Will it be Narendra Modi vs Rahul Gandhi? What will happen to the ambitions of Sushma Swaraj? Will L. K. Advani again put himself up as one of the candidates? Last question is the nightmare which gives me sleepless nights.

Hence, to put an end to the all consuming question, let me take this opportunity to declare my candidature for the CEO of the great country that is India.

Please find attached herewith my resume for your kind perusal. 


I, Nirwa Mehta, will swear in the name of God/solemnly affirm that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of India as by law established, that I will uphold the sovereignty and integrity of India, that I will faithfully and conscientiously discharge my duties as Prime Minister for the Union and that I will do right to all manner of people in accordance with the Constitution and the law, without fear or favour, affection or ill-will.

I, Nirwa Mehta, will swear in the name of God/solemnly affirm that I will not directly or indirectly communicate or reveal to any person or persons any matter which shall be brought under my consideration or shall become known to me as Prime Minister for the Union except as may be required for the due discharge of my duties as such Minister.

Educational Qualifications: I am soon going to be a qualified Chartered Accountant.  Having interned in one of the Big Four auditing and assurance firms, I know how accounts are cooked.  I also know how country's accounts are cooked.  It's time we clean up the mess in the kitchen. (I also love wordplay)

I am also a partly qualified lawyer, but I believe bookish knowledge is bullshit, and zindagi ke paath, koi kitaab nahin padhaati.

Work Experience:
  • I have been active on Twitter even before the first Indian on Twitter created the account.
  • I have successfully managed to spread awareness about the colours of Indian National Flag amongst the ignorant journalists.  One Goose thought it is Orange instead of Saffron. *smirks*
  • Wrote letters to people of prominence in politics, like Narendra Modi and Shashi Tharoor and got them to call me and answer my questions about the fate of the Nation.  I not only make noise, I also get people to answer my questions.
  • I come from the Land of Gandhi (Mahatma, not Rahul) and Modi (Narendra, not Lalit) and have the best of both their values. I know I can successfully lead the nation to progress with my amazing administrative skills coupled with my belief in non-violence and truth.  What more, the the residential colony where I live is also called "Satyagraha Chhawani".   I was born to be awesome.
  • I've never been the heir apparent.  I've only had apparent hair.  Ok, that does not make sense, but I want to say, the post of the Prime Minister is not a khaandaani parampara.  I'd rather get khaandaani kangan when I get married, but that's that. I have *earned* this post, because I'm awesome that way.
  • I am not afraid to take a stand on matters pertaining to national importance.  That means, I am not afraid tell everyone I'm awesome. And that I'm cute.  ♥_♥
  • The only Italian I like is food.
Personal Details:

Name: Nirwa Mehta
DoB: 4th February, 1986 (I love surprise gifts)
Nationality: Indian

Hence, dear people of the great nation called India, do consider my candidature for the post of the Prime Minister and follow the campaign on Twitter with the hashtag #Nirwa4PM

So, vote for me, because even my Mom thinks so.


ps - the objective is the Oath for the post of the Prime Minister, copied from Wikipedia.  Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy, Aaja Aaja Aaja. \m/

Inspired by conversation with @realslimswamy

Friday, June 15, 2012

Taiyari kiski?

So Bournvita has come up with a couple of ads like this, where the kid is taking part in some kind of sport, where he is testing his own limits by more and more practice.  The children are constantly practicing, either as a gymnast or a basketball player and their mother is looking on.  After falling or missing the baskets a couple of times, the kid would say something like to the effect of how they are not tired of practicing, because their mummy tells them how they must be persistent in practicing and should not give up till they succeed.

Now, this idea is a bit disturbing.  The more I see these ads on tv, the more disturbed I get, because a brown powder, which in my opinion just changes colour of milk and makes it taste little chocolatey and sugary, is talking how important winning is.  Being an average person is not acceptable in society, being an achiever is not good enough, and how everyone should be an overachiever.

Assuming grown ups are not fond of milk and how this product's target audience is children *and* their mothers, I think it is unfair to be asking for too much from children like that.

I did not have an exceptional childhood.  It mostly consisted of coming home from school at 4, watching tv till 6, finishing homework, watch more tv and sleep.  When I was a kid, our place was considered outskirts of city, and we had very few neighbours, and hardly anyone my age.  Sister had already discovered internet and I was just the annoying younger sister.  But I went cycling, played chess with grandma (where she let me win because I have always been cute, and no one wants to see a cute girl cry) and read "champak".  I have also been an average performer till 10th, and scored well in boards and have done better ever since.  But I don't remember my parents telling me how I *need* to excel in everything I do.

Yes, dad did get upset once when I scored 44/100 in social studies once in 8th, which I am not proud of, but after telling me, 'take care next time', he let me be, and I scored 71/100 in finals, because I tried hard. (in my defense, highest marks in former exams in entire class was 51, and our school was strict in that way, highest scorer hardly scored more than 65/100, because they wanted to keep us grounded. whatever logic)  I scored the highest in that term.  There was no pressure on me from parents to score.  I did it because I knew I could have, it was just that I was lazy.  C'mon, you are 14 years old, big deal if you score less, no? not the end of world.

Today, when I see my younger cousins I feel sad.  Not only because they are Hannah Montana fangirls and want to show cleavage at 13, and put on loud make up, but also because their parents want them to be the first in their class.  If the mother is expecting her daughter should score 90 marks in maths, and if she scores 84, the mother requests for rechecking of paper to class teacher because she believes that her daughter should have scored 90 only.  My parents never fought with the teacher, mostly because they trusted the teachers know what they are doing, and if i didn't get marks, it was perhaps because I was wrong.

Today, parents don't want to accept their child could go wrong, that way, they end up putting the pressure on the kid that they have to live up to their parents' expectations.

Is it that important to win, always? Is it so bad to fail? Is it that bad to be average?

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Open Letter to Delhi Boy

Dear Rickkkyy,

Few days back I wrote a blog, which was mainly to write something so that it pushes down my previous post that made me cringe every time I read it.

While I do agree it read more like a boring journal, your comment on the same totally pwned me.  I woke up and read that comment first thing in the morning and I could not stop grinning.  That was perhaps one of the best comments anyone has ever written on my blog.  (and I've been around since a few years now)

Now while the comment was absolutely brilliant, you did not leave any hint about you.  You also did not leave any mail address so I could get back to you.  And it has driven me up the walls not knowing who you are.  In fact, I check mails only to see if you have come back to leave another comment and I desperately hope you come back again and say hello.

So what do you say?

Lassi in Delhi or Coffee in Bangalore? (or, if you prefer, Chai in Ahmedabad?)


Sunday, June 3, 2012


I'd like a nice cup of coffee right now.  Well, not now, but in some next thirty minutes or so.  Maybe a nice ride on the empty streets of bangalore.  I'll probably tie my hair in a braid.  Because the wind will make my hair fly in all direction and untangling them will be a pain. 

I don't want to change my clothes either, I'm wearing my very comfortable old cotton dress, where first button has come off and I have not bothered to get it fixed.  It's my comfort outfit, the one I want to wear to sleep because it has become smooth with all the washes and it smells wonderful.  It's just the smell only you can associate with things that belong to you.  So I'd really like to be around someone who doesn't mind seeing me at my worst.

I may or may not have much to talk about, so the silence between us should not be make either of us uncomfortable. Just sit, stare at the sky, sip our coffee conversations that are not forced.

I wouldn't mind watching a movie either.  Love Actually? Bridget Jones' Diary? And the scene where Mark tells Bridget how he likes her, "just as she is". Or Serendipity?  And take sides for or against the concept of chance encounters depending on the mood at that time.

And maybe follow it up with a blueberry cheesecake.  Or I may in one of the moods where I am craving a pineapple cake! For a die-hard chocolate fan, craving pineapple cake is funny.  But then, everything about human nature is funny.  Just that some of us have learnt to laugh on ourselves.

I've hardly slept 8 hours in last 2 days.  I've had terrible cold, don't remember the last time I was down with cold, and since I refuse to take medicines, hardly any relief.  So I may be delirious.  In fact, I know I am not making any sense in this blog either, just like rest of the blogs, and I did start writing restaurant experience blog in bangalore, but then changed my mind. Because I'm awesome like that.

Anyway, if any of you is up for it, do let me know, I'm here for two more weeks, let's have a night out on the streets of bangalore one of these days?