Knowledge is Great

http://knowledgeisgreat.in/

I  have   a very  typical  Degree  combination.  A BE plus MBA. Thoroughly hating my   four  years of  technical education , in a  very herd mentality  I  was  swept  up in doing an MBA  degree.  It  worked  out  fortunately slightly better  and  like  most if not all MBA  graduates I  was in a  world  of  targets, sales,  pitch presentations and  more targets.  After  a three  year  stint  in a marketing firm  , I was  slightly  bored  and  very restless. 
I  wanted, nay needed to  do something  different. and probably the Gods  were listening. someone  spoke  to me about  a  Government of India  project.They  were  hiring  on a   contractual  basis, but it was to be  a great learning  opportunity. Sick  of being away  from home, I just  jumped  at the  chance,  and  bag  and baggage in tow  moved  back  to my city, Delhi.

so  what  do I  exactly  do?  I work on a  world  bank assisted  program for improving technical education  quality in India. sounds ironical? Sure does. I did   hate my technical  education after  all. But the  good thing it  gives  me  an  unique  perspective into   an average  20 year  old  engineers  to be's  life. It gives  me  a  chance  to  brainstorm  with them,  figure out  the obstacles  in their  learning  (  which  vary from language  skills to  just  plain bad  teachers.)  

More  good  things? I  sit  with my  team members  and  hash out parts of the project  implementation plan. We  decide  the policy and  rules. and  work  and  rework it.. Then  we  organized  learning   foras  for the  top academicians of our  country. we  sit  with them  and  learnt  new  things  together.  As  a  28  year old ,  the presence of  professors  and deans  who  have  more than  28 years  of  experience, the effect  is  sobering. you  realize the way  great  minds  think. but it is  also  exhilarating and the only thing  then is  to  sit there like  a  sponge. hoping  to  absorb  every nugget  of information. every  view point and   the  counter point.


So  do I love  what I  do? Absolutely. Do I want to  do it more?  Oh Yes.
What  would  I  do?

Pick a  course like Master of Public Policy(MPP)  , a  flagship  degree of the Blavatnik School of Government at Oxford University. A one year international graduate education for those wishing to lead in public service, whether in the public, private, non-governmental or social sector.

The core curriculum ranges across the social sciences, science, and the humanities and  students specialize in options and undertaking a Summer Project. Short intensive modules focus on policy skills in strategy, communications, negotiation, delivery, management, budgeting and finance. Students also attend a suite of practical sessions that aim to equip them with the key transferable skills required to work successfully in public policy.And

And  learn to address some of the most significant challenges of government.

Why this  course?

The website  says:

The Blavatnik School of Government aims to prepare students for leadership in government or in the pursuit of the public interest, whether in government, non-governmental organisations or the private sector.

Visiting careers speakers to the School include:

• Osama Rahman, Chief Economist, Ministry of Justice
• Chris Underhill, Founder, BasicNeeds
• Sharath Jeevan, Founder and CEO, STiR Education

Studying  with a  global  profile of  students, learning ,  discovering,  tackling new  approaches  to  complex  problem  and  most importantly,  bringing about  a  change through  public policy.

I could  not have hoped  for anything better.

Recharging my life

I  need to recharge  my life . I am going to recharge it through my hair.

How? And Why?

It is  simple  really

It  is  why women shop, buy  clothes.  try make  up. love heels.. ermmmm u get the idea. Hair. Luscious locks. Gorgeous  cascade. It is all  beauty  related. Undeniably the most beautiful weapon in the  arsenal of a  woman: A flick  to  show  annoyance. A twirl to show  interest. Hair  has a language  of its own.

And in  a month  I get use  my  weapon. How?

I am meeting  a  long lost  crush ,after  14  years  to be exact. And  he mentioned that  he thought I had  great hair in school. I blushed.And  then  got  quickly horrified. Straightening ,coloring ,heat, no  oiling  have taken their  toll.  From  a regular   Indian  Rupanzel   I have  turned  into  the  scarecrow   with a  straw  head.

And so my hair needs  to  be whipped  in shape soon.

So my  arsenal is fully loaded. And maybe  if  he is still  crush  worthy , I will smile and turn my head  (slo-mo Bollywood  heroine style ) and mesmerise him  with my  hair. After all  Valentine’s Day is  not too  far. ;)

Damn.I hope he is not reading my  blog.

facebook.com/sunsilkhairexperts

A lip smacking feast

So we  are   foodies. Unanimous  ones. All of  us. My  dad, mum, sis,  my  eighty  year  old  dadi.  There  is  no  polite  way to put  it,  we love  eating  and  feeding people.  Dishes  and  meals  aren’t essentially  simple in our house. And  if  somebody  comes over, it is  a veritable feast.  The  concept  for  a simple  dal  chawal  hasn’t been around .  the menu  would  on an average  day  mean   2   veg  dishes, a  dal,  rice  and  roti  with an assortment of  pickles,  chutney  and  raita.

 And oh!  Did I mention  we  have   a sweet  mouth, yeah u heard me  right , not a   sweet  tooth. But possibly  a  sweet mouth .. all  32  teeth   (including my dadi’s  denture). Slurpy  hot  sticky  gulab jamuns  to melt  in your  mouth soan papdi…  we  relish and  devour  them all.

 So  planning for a  party is  no mean  feat.  It means  racking our  brains  and topping  our  culinary efforts  every time.it  ha s  arguments  and  counter  arguments ,  dishes  and  accompaniments are debated  and  mulled over. Individual and  generic  preferences  to  be taken  care of.

With the  first  rain  hitting Delhi today, the heat  subsiding a little  and  the  occasional  Delhi humidity dealt  with, the  time  is  ripe  for  a  party. It  is   cool as  a cucumber, the  breeze  is  intoxicating and the  terrace is  a  perfect plac e to host a relaxed  dinner.

Armed with the delight  that  a lovely  weather  brings , a rare  free   evening and the  slightly  recent  discovery  of  Kitchens  Of India  by my mum, we  are  all geared  up  for a  party.

The  terrace  has  been  cleaned,  and a  small  waterproof  tent put up. Groups   of   small  tables  and  chairs  have   been put  out  for  a casual  dining ambience. Keeping in theme  of  welcoming  monsoons,  my  artistically inclined  sister  ha s put  out  centerpieces.  Delicate  strands  of  mogra  are spilling out  of  wine  goblets  on each table,  filling the  air  with their  heady  fragrances.

The lip smacking  dishes  are  simmering  away,  ready  to  be  served, garnished   with  a  range  of  herbs  and  dallops  of  my mum’s  love.I  can see the  Mirch Ka  Salan..  enticing and  extravagant. 

There is chicken for  us  non- vegetarians-  an array to feast on-   Chicken  Chettinad  with  the  delicate   aroma  of  curry  leaves. The spicy  Methi  Murg-    a personal  favourite-  i can’t  wait to  dip  hot  butter slathered  naan in the  curry  and   feel the  explosion  of   flavors  on my tongue.

For the  rare  veggie  amongst us- there  is  Dal  Bukhara  and  Paneer  Darbari -each  of  them  a  reflection  of india’s   eons  of  culinary skill and  passion. The melt in mouth  pieces  of paneer  and  the  ghee  tadka  which  is being  added  - promise   a finger licking  delight.

My dadi  has  opened  the  huge aluminum patila-   I can smell the cardamom  and  cloves  in the  rice.it  is  time  to set out  the pickles and  chutneys-  we  are  experimenting  with Papaya  Raisin  and   Carrot Blackpepper  today.  My  dad’s    favorite  Tangy  Tamarind  And  Dates   is  not left  behind  either.

Hot Moong  Dal Halwa  and  slices  of vanilla   ice cream  with a  generous  drizzle  of  chocolate  sauce  will  be served.

It is way  past  dusk now.  The  extended  family  will descend  soon. It will be  a  time for  food  and  merriment ,unending   gossip  and  lingering  over  nightcaps. The  air will  fill  with  strains  of  music  and  gazals.  The pitter patter of  raindrops  has  started  again.

I have  a huge  smile on my face. It is  time  to open up or  home and hearth.

Dead End

Dear All
to my few readers, i apologize for the long gaps between the posts... but various factors have creeped in.. the most prominent being a serious lack of creative juices flowing..
i am trying to jump start my life, my brains and most importantly my enthusiasm..

trying to find my muse
chani

Love and reality are not interconnected.

I feel the need to love, I really do. But when I actually do, it makes me feel nauseous and suffocated. Maybe I have had too many blah relationships. And after each one I lay down hurt, but get up eventually, dust my hands and move on. It is not that they didn’t care for me, or me not for them.But I guess there was no real spark. It is not like I have been screwed over in relationships, I just don’t seem to find the connection.

I have stopped making the effort, coz I know I will be eventually fine , no matter what. So I have stopped having delusional romantic thoughts of spending my life with a person.

And this is kind of sad, as I was a genuinely a romantic person. I had hope and optimism and fun. And it is like when I saw you, my earth had shifted. It no longer revolved around the sun, but around you. Everything you touched ,saw and felt, gained life of its own, brimming with happiness of being a part of your thought and space.

Now it is like I had poured all my romanticism into that few weeks. And I was never able to ignite it again. You took away things from me.Everything I said to u , u kept, and took all of those words, feelings away. So when u left, I felt cold. Like love was not meant for me.

And everybody else who came along, was always a pale flickering candlelight ,while u had been the bright sun, the memories of which keep you warm even on the coldest night

somebody up there hates me?

yes , somebody up there hates me indeed... I dunno whether it happens to other people or not, but advertently or inadvertently i always get to have great weather , right before an exam or a test... after days of dust and a near drought, it rains today in gurgaon... n hold ur breath, right before my mid-sem. A mid-sem, I am not studying for, I will have no clue even if u do, so why bother...

For me it has become a classic case of : The more I study , the more I know;

The more I now, the more Iforget;

The more I forget the less i now;

Hence why study....

Anyways , everyone I know has started writing a blog- some good , some irreverant and some.. umm just no comments... The sudden influx of these , has inspired me tap away at my keyboard yet again,publish some random thoughts... Unfortunately no inspiration strikes,i do not shout eureka, all i do is look out,see the rain.. and think about the eventual giant-sized puddle that will form outside my house... making travelling on foot a lost art.It is a boom time for my local rikshaw wallah, who will charge my a grand amount of 25 bucks, no matter how much I haggle, for he knows my need is greater than his....

I aso think about hot piping chai, a beverage unlike most Indians, I am not fond of. Yet I think of the one cup of chai I had on my way to Singhad.Accompanied by kaanda bhaji(onion pakoras) and spicy green chutney... Iwould gladly travel all the way, if only for that delicious , elusive combination.

I reminisce about boat rides in Mahabaleshwar, in the rain which would chill you to your bones.Huddling under a tapri, eating babycorn rolls. The entire gang of friends shouting ,singing,laughing and in truth spooking the horses and little children.!

I now look up at the evening sky, splashed with colors of gold.. and say thank you to the someone above.I have people I love,and who love me in return,friends who crazy enough to be with me.And I think I may just have found my mojo....

goodbye....

Goodbye my old friend
Goodbye my almost lover
i don’t think of u any more
don’t think it was forever

i did what u wanted
and thought it wd last
But things don’t go as planned
Now u refuse to put history in the past

you made me feel cold
till I thought I wd shiver and die
never spoke another word
till the silence became too vast
and voices couldn’t pry

time heals everything
but sometimes scars remain
I think I still have a tiny cut
From which blood never seems to wane.