of venetian blinds, power tools and profiling

venetian blinds

after 3 visits, i finally picked 'em up for my room... nice wooden venetian blinds. 65 bucks and 1 hour later (ikea, man! it does that to you...), all that was left was to put 'em up. now, for some reason unknown to me, ikea believes in packing the worst possible instruction manuals possibly created by mankind. anyway, the thing wudnt go up coz the screws were up against some concrete. enter... the power tools.

power tools

since the beginning of time, man has been fascinated by power. i know this, coz it is repeated in every sitcom i watch, more notably in tim allen's "home improvement". (yes, this is where i get my knowledge from). annoyed at not being able to put up the blinds i had purchased, i spoke to the property's maintenance guy... hes a friend of mine. although hes not legally allowed to alter the room, apparently i am. so he points out this shed of his at the end of the property... this shed holds ALL the power tools u can ever dream of owning. goooooooooood..... verrry gooooooood.... mom was none-too-happy about these developments, but i sneaked into my apt anyway.

profiling

before i get into this, let me describe what i looked like as i walked up to my apt from the shed: baggy shorts, long t-shirt, crew cut hair, tools in my hand... and yeah ofcourse the "tan". this very, ummm, south-of-the-border look (as it turns out) caused a fellow resident to walk up to me and say "que pasa" & when we would be able to get to fixing their sink.................... *ahem* i use the term "profiling" coz racism is just too harsh... and sooner or later, all of us do this. i chalked this one up to just one of life's "Seinfeld" moments. couldn't waste time; i had blinds to fix.

bonus: annoying people in the service industry

took a quick dinner break. here's the scene: at chipotle (mexican grill) today, we order four plates. 3 require guacamole, one doesn't. let me repeat that. THREE yes, ONE NOOOOOO!!! ALL this woman behind the counter has to do in her profession is SPLOSH guacamole on these plates. THAT is it... it is the maximum effort and talent required of her. again, when she goes in to work, i realize the job isn't what she dreamed of as a kid, i know it's not paying enough, but STILL, even with the least bit of interest, you should be able to SPLOSHHH Gmole. after pointing out the one that does not need any Gmole... and repeating this twice btw... she picks up the spoon, and almost in slow-motion, i see her hand come down on the one i am pointing at. i wish at such times in life, i could snap my fingers and outta nowhere, news cameras would appear... journalists would break the glass ceiling n rapple straight on down, microphone in hand... and this, this TALENTED person's face is shown across the globe, in the news, in the papers... heck maybe on youtube. and then, my friend, maybe, just maybe, the idiocy will stop. but, i digress...

anyway, the blinds got put up just fine. so yeah, there were a coupla etc holes in the wall, and yeah this might come crashing down any time soon... but you know wat? i enjoyed all of it. and did a pretty good job too ;)

a longer post about the new yr, the new job and my bday coming soon... but yeah, don't hold your breath. i might be out fixin someone's dishwasher LOL

WAW!

1st things 1st... WAW isn't a way of saying "wow" (like my best friend goes "WAAOOW!!!"... dunno why, but she's incapable of sayin it straight hehehehe)

"WAW!" stands for "what a weekend!". have had a few crazy ones in the past... but this 1 takes the cake.

worked on friday and then had to rush off to do some apt-movin. rushed on over to LA... ahhh! good ol' USC side for a meal: the two-nine cafe... old friends... couldn't ask for more. well maybe a blonde or two :P :P

saw a friend off at LAX... this place has some real bitter-sweet memories. have never visited this place and not wanted to board the flight myself. he was heading back to india, for gd... back home, for gd. yes jumpin him n grabbing his ticket did cross my mind! we had a decent conversation. something became clear: when we leave india, some 15 ppl see us off at the airport... when we leave now for gd, some 15 ppl see us off again. so what's different? it took 22 yrs to get 15 ppl to say adios, & only 2 for the same... that says something. we're not just friends here... we're family. gonna miss him. n he, us.

we dealt with the sadness the only way guys know how to; yup... we saw a late movie: harold n kumar part2. insanely hilarious in a gross kind of way. lol!

saturday morning went hiking for 5 and a half miles.... did it in sum 2 hrs or so baby! we were warned about mountain lions n rattlesnakes, although none of them really turned up! hehehe.

have spent the past coupla hrs helping this mad cat plan her trip :P :P

tomorrow is some more moving...

now you know... what a weekend...

am luvin' it.

conversations

sometimes, some conversations stick with you. a few words spoken here n there, without much of an effort... even lesser of a thought. they have a quality of... je ne sais quoi... lingering on.

engineering:

was reminiscing about some old engg days with this friend... didn't even know her then, but yeah she's been through the same rigmarole as i. we discussed how univ oral exams were tougher than written ones. we used to dread vivas; i mean these guys were outright brutal! bear with me as i paint this picture of nostalgia. we cud be asked anything... & "anything" included the following question:

"yeh panvel hai, yahaan se 5 km door ek gaon mein ramlal naam ka ek aadmi rehta hai... jiski teen gaay (cows) hain... us mein se doosri gaay ne apne bacchhde ko aaj doodh nahin diya......
...........
...........
kyon ?"

HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAA... gotta luv old friends, & the senseless conversations you can have with them. good times, good times...

quick quips:

* on being asked by a friend why i didn't plan to visit home when out of a job for 3.5 months:
"i plan to become a free lance bawarchi... u have no idea how passionate i am abt it. i luv the cooking... but it's the chef's cap mostly."

* on being asked by a co-worker if i was lucky & would win lots of money in vegas:
"ppl talk abt being lucky in luv, or lucky in gambling… i'm not so picky in this matter. good luck in ANY kind or form will do… even if it’s something inane like always being able to guess what the cafeteria's serving before hand. this way i know whether we should bother heading to the café or just plain go out to subway. i can hear their praises now, “you’re right again Tushar! "u da man, Tushar!” aaaah... fans. voila! i'm the hero... and ofcourse, a hero that’s eating good food."

P.S. she doesn't talk to me much now... LOL!

* on hearing this wannabe acquaintance complain endlessly about how much kooler she was than other "lame" indians:
me: "hey, is this spelling of baccalaureate correct?" (honestly, this was unintentional!)
her, proudly: "no! it goes 'B-A-C-H-E-L-O-R-E-T-T-E' ."

lifer:

yeah, that's a term i use for ppl i've had around for a lifetime... yeaaaaaaars can go by without a single word being exchanged, yet the conversations flow as smoothly as ever:

-- begin conversation, after 3 years of "ssup, all kool?" exchanges --
============================================================

frnd: say, tush, do you like india more or the US?
frnd: i mean with you living here or there
me: its a tough question dude
me: here thr is a lot of work appreciation, u know?
me: life is more comfy in bombay without a doubt, but then you spend 70% of ur life at work
frnd: that's true man
frnd: hmm, so US is better professionally and home's better personally, then?
me: in a nutshell, yeah

-- end conversation --
=======================

it's ironic how weeks go by slowly, while life passes you by so fast. yet some things stick around... like conversations ;)

"Bye Bye NRI"

This is a funny,yet true, article I came across in "Times of India" by Chidanand Rajghatta.

"It’s all over for the NRIs, folks; long live the RNIs! If you are not familiar with the latter acronym, better get up to speed, because it could apply to you. It stands for Resident Non-Indians, a term manufactured by the now deposed and embittered NRIs to describe those they say are residents of India only in name, but who don’t show the slightest sign of being Indian — which to nostalgia-stricken NRIs means listening to Mohd Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar of circa 1970 while driving to work on the Beltway; not the Bollywood Rap the RNI types are soaking up while stuck in traffic jams in India.

The tidings about the demise of the NRI cachet and the rise of the RNI legend was brought recently to America, the largest hangout for NRIs, by a crestfallen member of the long-hyped tribe. He had returned from India rather shell-shocked. It’s not just that the dollar had sunk below Rs 40 and touts at Taj Mahal were using greenbacks to blow their kids’ noses, he sniffed; it was the way he was treated at home.

When he sat down for breakfast expecting to be served pohua and idli, he was fed Post’s Banana Nut Crunch. Olive oil had replaced asli ghee in the making of parathas. When they went out to dinner — Tex-Mex, no less — friends whipped out their wallets faster than Clint Eastwood drew his six-shooter in For a Few Dollars More, and didn’t allow him to pay. His Amex card returned to the US unmolested.

There’s just no respect anymore for NRIs, he moaned. What happened to the good old days when nephews and nieces begged him for Levi’s and Nikes, for Chanel No 1 and Poison? Why, as recently as a couple of years ago, snotty little brats were pleading with him for playstations and iPods.

But now all these were available in India, as were the latest laptops and cellphones. Having gone from Non-Returning Indian to a Non-Resident Indian, he had now been demoted to Not Required Indian.

So, here’s the scoop. Apparently, our bharat mahaan is rolling in so much lolly, and such is the attention being lavished on it by the world, that NRIs are being told to take their depreciating dollar and dafa ho jao. Dirhams and euros are still okay, but the dollar is definitely in the doghouse. Heck, even the Taj — the hotel, not the monument — is reportedly telling folks they would rather be paid in pesos.

People, it’s Pox Americana time, and the American NRI is bearing the brunt.

As a long-suffering itinerant who straddles the world of NRIs, RNIs, IRNs etc, i can attest to the hardship the poor NRI is going through with my $0.02 of insight, the equivalent naya paisa being too unaffordable. It’s a terrible chore these days to shop in the US for the family in India. For one, there is hardly anything that is ‘Made in USA’; and what is available is already outdated in India.

The horrible moment of truth laughed me in the face when i handed out a nice T-shirt i had bought for a brat, only to be thanked with "Chee! It’s Made-in-Bangladesh." The sneakers, it turned out, were made in Thailand, and the baseball cap in Vietnam. The nadir came when the gang espied my cellphone, a model that was apparently discarded in India in the 20th century.

So, where does that leave the NRI? Word is that they are pressing for a change in nomenclature. They’d now like to be known as INRs — Indian Non-Residents."