Some Good Stuff

Just thought of sharing some fantastic stuff that came to me via email forwards. Thoughts which are very appropriate for thirty-somethings like us :


Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in
sideways,chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up,
totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO what a ride!"


Inside every older person is a younger person -- wondering what the
hell happened.
-Cora Harvey Armstrong-

Inside me lives a skinny woman crying to get out. But I can usually
shut the b ***** up with cookies.
(Unknown)



And here's my favourite :

If you can't be a good example -- then you'll just have to be a horrible warning.

Scene 1 :

It's lunch time and I am hungry. It is also very hot.I am on my way back to office after a branch visit and I decide to for a change eat healthy and opt for a salad from a joint on Sarat Bose Road, instead I take a wrong turn and I end up on Wood burn Park . A few steps down the pavement and I find myself facing this sign :



Having never visited a Subway Outlet before (yes it's true), I decide to try my luck. I walk in and I find the whole place empty (that should have set the alarm bells ringing but I was to taken up with the idea of "eating healthy"). So I walk up to the counter and naively ask for a sandwich, a dude who has the words "Sandwich Artist' proudly emblazoned on his T-shirt wordlessly hands over a menu card to me.

I opt for a meatball sandwich and then my troubles begin...which bread madam....and madam is confused ....any bread that tastes good is my naive reply ....no madam please tell me ...we have "x" 'y" and "z" ...I am fumbling and Mr. Sandwich artist looks at me as I am something that the cat dragged in. After fumbling my way, I manage to get a sandwich and I am asked to shell out 112 bucks which I do.

The sandwich surprisingly for all my ignorance on breads and dressing, tastes good but it makes me thirsty. So i once again humbly go up to the counter and ask if I may be blessed enough to get some water. Mr. Sandwich artist tells me that I may buy a bottle of mineral water which they sell and I ask, "But don't you have any normal water from a dispenser ?" . Mr. Sandwich artist feels that he has a loser on his hands, and I am told that if I want to , I may drink water from the tap...and no they would not be able to give me a glass.

Now I know why this "famous" outlet was empty even during lunch time !!!

Scene 2 :


It is a hot Saturday afternoon. I am hot and thirsty. I am to sweaty to feel hungry. So I walk up to this small outlet which sells rolls at the beginning of Park Street and ask if they could give me some water. There is a man who is taking the orders , he takes one look at my miserable face and yells to the doorman of the restaurant next to his outlet, " Madam ke liye jaldi pani la". I am given a tall glass of cold water and asked as to whether I feel better. I am touched by this act of kindness...after all I had not bought anything from this shop and the man behind the counter was no "Sandwich Artist" in a glitzy outlet and yet he had the heart to be kind to me.

This is where the true spirit of Kolkata resides...in the hearts of the people who have lived and run their businesses long before it became fashionable to do so. They are the ones who care about their fellow Kolkatans...not some fancy people with fancy get-ups and broken English in a johny-come-lately set up.

If you Can't stand the heat...Go to Darjeeling !

The heat at Kolkata is killing. Anyone not inside an A/c room is walking around with a film of sweat on themselves and cursing any one and any thing.

The heat is causing madness. Tempers are frayed.Traffic accidents have increased. Domestic warfare has reached a crescendo. People dont talk to each other...they just growl.

At work we crouch at our work stations and snarl every time the boss says that a branch has to be visited "NOW". Mr boss is a wily chap, he never moves out of his A/c comfort zone...why should he when he has me poor minion to run around like a mad dog in the mid-day sun from one end of the city to the other.

To top it all, we have people taking leave for days and going off to Darjeeling/Gangtok/etc etc. Whilst we poor sould tug their share of the burden too.
Yet there is a perverse pleasure in seeing their sweaty faces once they are back in the jungle.

I miss my home in the hills. The old colonial bungalow with a thatch roof which looked on to the Kanchanjunga and the garden and the vegetable plot and the smell of fresh green tea leaves as they were plicked from the bushes and above all the pleasant weather and peaceful surroundings.

How I wish that time had stood still and all these trappings of being a grown up had not been foisted upon me and I could return to being a school girl on holiday at home sitting out in the verandah, looking out at the hills and reading an Agatha Christie Novel.

While I am it, this is something like the view which I had from the bungalow in Darjeeling :

My Determination

This blog is a symbol of my dogged determination I wont give this up.This is my link with all that I held dear and I will not let it go so easily.