Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Do Not Chase Your Dreams@talkingcranes.com

http://www.talkingcranes.com/blog/do-not-chase-your-dreams

Mills and Boon - romance and love@talkingcranes.com

Interview with Apurva Purohit

Banning Nanak Shah Fakir@talkingcranes.com

Thirty Years on @talkingcranes.com

An Interview With Mitra Kalita @talkingcranes.com

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Spring Awakening : Published in The Scarsdale Inquirer April 24th, 2015


The last anyone had seen the TV remote was a weekend in early January when friends of ours came visiting, and their son was toying with it. I was pretty certain the child had not taken it with him; it would have been extremely embarrassing to ask his parents about the missing object! I hunted for the remote everywhere - under the couches, between bedsheets, in the kitchen shelves and the laundry basket, but it was nowhere to be found. 

Until the snow began to melt.Then I found the remote sitting quietly in the backyard, buried under all that snow for three months! I also found socks and my son’s soccer ball, and my favorite coffee mug that I must have forgotten outside. And with that discovery, spring finally arrived for me! 

I love the four seasons that Scarsdale has. In each of these, Scarsdale transforms itself -  a white wonderland with snow and fairy lights in the winter; lush, wholesome and restful in the summer, and supremely radiant and crisp in autumn. But it is in spring when Scarsdale  repairs and renews itself. The sidewalks are clear of snow and ready to be walked on again, potholes are filled in and landscaping vans are parked everywhere. One can hear the birds chirping and see the bugs start to creep out of the woodwork. The bare trees sprout the first tentative buds. The days are longer, the temperatures kinder, the wind less bitter, and the sun shines with a little more cheer. The window displays on the village shops are bright and happy as well! 

The  Scarsdale seasons are a far cry from the ones in my my erstwhile home. Wikipedia may define them differently, but in Mumbai India, the four ‘seasons’ are as follows - hot and humid, monsoons, not so hot and humid, and moderately hot; the temperatures range from 70 degrees to 90 degrees fahrenheit. I love the monsoons in Mumbai - for three months, it rains almost non-stop; it causes flooding and water-logging, traffic jams and no school days, but Mumbai is at her prettiest and lushest at this time! There is no real need to change one’s wardrobe or house decorations - one can wear shorts and a t-shirt almost all year round, and when it gets a tad cold (at 70 degrees),  out come full sleeved t-shirts, jeans and even boots! Houses get a thorough deep-clean during Diwali, one of the major festivals in India; festivals are the times we decorate our homes with flowers and lights. In comparison, the way Scarsdale, its houses and people change their outward appearance with every changing season delights me! 

It does seem like Scarsdale has woken up from its long slumber and is springing back to life. Right now, the local markets are full of spring time flowers like pansies, hyacinths, daffodils, tulips, as well as herbs and vegetables that one can plant. The heavenly smells of pumpkin, cinnamon and apple spiced fragrances have made way for fresher smells of the sea and cotton candy; fruity cocktails and passionfruit drinks get preference over pumpkin spiced and gingerbread lattes. Heavy coats and boots have made way for lighter, vibrant colored sweatshirts and tops;  the warmer nail colors of maroon, deep blues and purples are being replaced with understated brights and pale pastels. The roads are more crowded - there are convertibles, children on bikes, walkers and runners. The fields are buzzing again with soccer, lacrosse and baseball teams gearing up for games. I may be wrong, but I think people are smiling a lot more as well;  perhaps because the wind is no longer bitter, one does not need caps and scarves and can actually pay attention to others! 

Soon, there will be complaints of pollen related allergies and long spells of rain. The crickets, chirping in earnest will compete with the noise of the lawnmowers! Soon, we will also moan that the sun is too strong, and wish for some respite from the heat. 

But for now, Spring is finally here. After months, I can finally open the windows again, and let  cool air come into the house without being frozen. I can forget the winter blues and soak in the Vitamin D. Till the trees get all their leaves back, I can peep into my neighbor’s backyards, salivate at the smell of their barbecues and hope for a piece of the meat! It is time to get a new haircut, donate old clothes and get new ones, get dirt under my fingernails by planting my herb garden, sit outside at one of the village cafe’s for a cup of coffee, decorate my house with daffodils and tulips, try cooking and eating fiddleheads, watch bumblebees in my garden, see the trees bud and get their leafy cover, and to get caught in a spring shower! 

And here is a recipe for a spring pie, courtesy Paul F Kortepeter - Enjoy it! 

“Would you like some warm Spring pie? 
Then, take a cup of clear blue sky. 
Stir in buzzes from a bee, 
Add the laughter of a tree. 

A dash of sunlight should suffice 
To give the dew a hint of spice. 
Mix with berries, plump and sweet. 

Top with fluffy clouds, and eat!”

Saturday, March 14, 2015

The Society of Unknown Friends; published in The Scarsdale Inquirer - Friday the 13th,2015

In my decade long stay in Mumbai I was privileged to be part of many groups - I had my college and MBA school buddies, work colleagues, school moms, gym buddies and book club members. I led an active social life, and for the past few years had not felt the need to actively seek new friends.

When I moved to Scarsdale, I knew no one and did not know how to begin to make friends. As a fresh off the boat expat to the country, I did not want to commit social faux pas by saying irrelevant or out-of-context things either. In India, if you asked me how I was  doing, I would take it quite literally. So I might say that I had a headache that was killing me, or that I went grocery shopping and the price of onions was appallingly high! I didn’t know much but I did know that I could definitely not do that here in the US - I should only say ‘Fine, Thanks, and you?’

I was alone, but not lonely because I was busy working on my novel. I attended the PTA  breakfast mornings, said hello to some mothers and exchanged a few numbers. And I was on the web quite often, checking details of things I was writing about, when one day on my Facebook page, I happened to notice ‘suggested groups around you’. This listed some groups in Westchester. There was a ‘Westchester Community’, ‘Eastchester Moms’ , a postal code group and a ‘Scarsdale Moms’ group. I sent a request to this last one to join the group.

They say all good things come by serendipity. I don’t remember what I expected from the group, because the ‘Scarsdale Moms’ group turned out to be so different from anything I had imagined it to be.

With more than 1600 members, all of them women, the status updates beat Angie’s List or any other. Members post requests for almost anything and others graciously share their information. New to Scarsdale, I figured the restaurants for romantic dinners, birthday parties, even good Mexican and Italian food. I got names of reliable plumbers, handymen, housekeepers, cleaners and airport drops. Where to go for the best massages, manicures , eyebrows, and hair color and what dentist to avoid because he has a bad case of halitosis? Was I paying the right price for a service like snow shoveling, SAT prep classes and personal training at a gym? What were the best places for students to learn driving and does a particular chiropractor live up to his reputation? I also picked up a recipe for broccolini, the names of people who deliver home cooked meals (including Indian food), even places of worship!

One thing leads to another, and an enterprising member of the Scarsdale Moms group started the ‘Gentle Scarsdale Satire’ - a group for easygoing individuals who aren't afraid to laugh at themselves and at Scarsdale. This group puts a smile on my face every morning. With incredible wit, members gently skewer things they see around them. Have residents been kidnapped by Martians because their Christmas lights still shine bright and what kind of masochistic behavior might you see at a high intensity gym class? Laugh-out-loud Scarsdale specific lyrics set to the tune of Beyonce’s ‘All the Single Ladies‘ , the town’s obsession with salads, parking in the town square, snow days, early dismissals, even potholes get honorary mentions here. As does the best loved voice in Scarsdale !!

Do I know any of the mothers on these groups? I know some names, but I have no idea who these women are! I don’t know if their children are friends with mine, if we are in the same yoga class, if I cut one of them off at the traffic light,  or if they might be seated next to me at the Salzburg Patisserie.

These groups make Scarsdale my home. Online groups are criticized for their impersonal, transient nature and their ephemeral quality. Yet when you move into an unfamiliar environment where the social dynamic is different from the one you are used to, such groups are lifesavers. In Mumbai I knew the lay of the land like only a local can know - which place has the best home delivery, what movie theatre has the best samosas and how to dress for someone’s funeral - these are not details one finds in tourist books or even folders that moving companies give you to help you settle into a new place. Gathering all that data involves months, nay years of painstaking experiences! In these FB groups, there is always someone who has done the research and I don’t have to spend a lifetime re-inventing the wheel.

Online groups are not places to bare your soul; I do not share anything personal on the groups, yet I get lots of comfort, laughs and happiness from their chatter. The Society of Unknown Friends is a great one to be part of and who knows, one day we might all meet up for drinks, and become ‘known’ friends!!



Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Peeling Off the 50 Shades of Grey

Last week at the gym, when I overheard a couple of women discussing Fifty Shades and calling it mommy porn, I decided it was time to re-engage with the series. Years ago, I could not get through the Fifty Shades of Grey book.  Anastasia Steele’s neediness and masochism appalled me and Christian Grey was the devil incarnate! After groaning through the first hundred pages, I  skipped to the end of the book. Finally (I thought) good sense had prevailed and Anastasia walked away from this destructive relationship, but not before being brutally thrashed. I was never inspired to pick up the next two in the series, though the books made readers of people who had never read in their lives! An acquaintance who finds it difficult to go through a lengthy email actually read the book; his wife and he would discuss it every night!  I was invited to a Fifty Shades theme party and I found the idea appalling (ok, so I did not possess leather pants, handcuffs and other ‘bare’ necessities). No accounting for taste I thought!
Now, I had to see the movie alone (my teenage daughter was horrified that I wanted to take her, and the husband looked blank and the son - well he pretended to not hear me at all ). So armed with popcorn and soda, I settled into a theatre seat, surrounded by women - some who had come with friends - and some lone rangers like me!  
Can a movie ever be better than the book it is inspired from? Generally not, but I must confess, I loved the Fifty Shades of Grey movie. The movie is way superior to the tacky book. Call it mommy porn or whatever, but judging by their reactions, the women in the movie theatre enjoyed the movie as much as I did. Who would not want Christian Grey? Brought up on a diet of romantic novels (and an English Literature degree), Christian Grey comes closest to my idea of a  perfect boyfriend.  A good looking billionaire, he woos Anastasia with joy rides on the private plane, a laptop, a first edition copy of Tess and a car to replace her ancient one. He picks her up dead drunk from the pub and puts her to bed. He  buys her lovely clothes and takes her to meet his parents. He is possessive and jealous when other men eye her! He has a dark side that is begging to be unraveled and he is drool-worthy!

Ever since the movie released, there has been a spate of articles and television programs on how the movie is a blatant endorsement of sexual violence against women.Yes, Christian Grey is also a sadist. He has a playroom with sex toys and cables, ropes, handcuffs and whips. He wants Anastasia to be submissive and demands complete obedience. What starts (in her mind) as a playful thing becomes something quite degrading and humiliating and she begins to wonder if this is what she wants. Mom and parenting blogs denounce the character of Christian Grey and detail why they would not recommend their daughters to seek a boyfriend like this depraved character. Religious blogs state that Fifty Shades makes us lose our religion because lustful thoughts lead to lustful actions; that the movie sets you down a path of self-gratification and lust. 

Incidentally, most of this chastity focused  advice is directed towards women - I guess it is not so bad that online pornography has twice as many male viewers than women, and male erotica books and magazines are a large industry!

Fifty Shades of Grey is a story well-told (in the movie atleast). When you peel back the various shades of Grey, it is only a real-life love/lust/ambition story! The plot is very Harlequin/Mills and Boon-ish. Simple girl meets rich billionaire and is attracted to him. He pays her loads of attention, she feels intimidated yet overwhelmed, and wants him. Peel away the S&M sub-plot, and the story is what many ambitious girls aspire to. To find a rich, good-looking billionaire boyfriend who will set their hearts singing (trust me, a bankrupt, average looking boy is not any girl’s marriage aspiration) and offer marriage. Women are natural nurturers, yet they want nurturing too; then the desire to give up control to the one you trust can be terribly romantic! Besides, like Anastasia, most women think they can change the guy they want to be with - make him dress differently, wear a new perfume, stop smoking, start drinking, lose weight, stop womanizing, earn more money, be a better human being - whatever! 

So if Anastasia Steele has red, angry welts on her body, she has my empathy but no sympathy. She knows what she is getting into; she has seen the playroom and read up on submissives.  Like any woman in love, Anastasia puts Christian on a pedestal and does things that will please him and make him love her more. We all do that - sometimes we are rewarded, at other times betrayed or dumped but it is a risk we are willing to take. She chooses to stay and experiment, and attempts to change/understand Christian.  

In the end though it is Christian my heart goes out to. He is upfront about his expectations, lays down the rules of engagement for Anastasia and makes it clear that she can exit anytime she wants to. He struggles with his demons and the strong pull of the girl he is attracted to. He makes an attempt to be the kind of boyfriend Anastasia wants. Christian does things that he has not done with his 15 other submissives; he takes her out on dates and indulges her, and begins to confide in her. He may be damaged but he is not dishonest. 

After Anastasia tells Christian to punish her in the severest manner he can, so she can understand him better, she decides to walk out on him.  When it becomes difficult to find a reason to stay in a relationship, brave women walk out and leave. Yet to me Anastasia’s exit felt like a betrayal. I thought it was terribly unfair when she tells him that she loves him but does not want him anymore. What an awful burden to saddle someone else with! Additionally, you don’t ask someone to bare their soul to you, only to leave them feeling despondent and exposed. A person already damaged has less incentive to  trust and heal himself thereafter. 

Like me, even those who have not read the other two books know that Anastasia Steele gets Christian Grey in the end. Eventually, the unrelenting pressure of a woman’s love, and a man’s desire for her, can change him, and/or strike a more equitable balance. We love these fairytale endings!


I am all set for the next Fifty Shades movie!! My sincerest desire though is that Anastasia will stop biting her lip all the time - it was hardly a turn on, and by the end those silly red lips made me want to throw up!

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

A Shifting Perspective; published in The Scarsdale Inquirer on 20th Feb2015



I had my life all planned when we moved to Scarsdale from Mumbai, India last year. I would settle my 16 and 14 year olds in their new schools, set up our home and get a job in Manhattan. I had great references from my work place and a work permit; in a DKNY business suit I would live the corporate MBA American dream. I was 45, and excited to be in this land of opportunities.

In the midst of the job search I decided to explore my new home on foot and lose weight. I had piled on an additional ten pounds on my already plump self because of the endless farewell parties in Mumbai. All was well in my world till I realized that I was one of the few people walking in the village. Almost everyone else was running; around me were tight bodies and toned calves. I was inspired but soon ran into trouble. My lungs would scream for oxygen and the gently rolling Scarsdale roads (that make landscaping look so gorgeous) killed my legs. The doctor identified it as a tightening of the IT Band. He recommended I modify my diet to lose weight and join the gym to strengthen my legs.

Food had become a big problem here. While my children enjoy all cuisines, they began to crave an Indian meal everyday. I could bully my husband into eating take-out but couldn’t be unfair to the kids. In India, you don’t have to be super rich to have household staff. I had a live-in cook and my only culinary contribution was the daily menu I planned. Now I struggled to cook what I knew and make it palatable for the kids. I knifed my fingers every other day and stopped getting a manicure because it would not last. I hated the smell of Indian spices that seemed to cling to my hair and clothes and set aside a pair of sweats to cook in.

I joined an upmarket gym in Scarsdale and whatever little shred of positive body image I had melted away. There is nothing like seeing another woman’s naked body to get a perspective on what is wrong with your own. I saw perfect breasts of all sizes, flat muscular tummies that did not look like they had ever held babies in them, and toned limbs that fitted so well in a dress. I hated them and their bodies and hated my own. Nothing seemed to budge the fat from my body.

My unhappiness grew. Despite my experience in India no one was willing to offer me a position in the US. I went for many interviews, smiled and chatted over cups of coffee; in the feedback I was told that though I was intelligent, competent and capable, I did not understand the local market. I had never faced rejection and for the first time in my adult life, I was not earning my own money. My 16 year old consoled me, “You could go back to school and do a refresher MBA course.”

I balked. At $80000 and a GMAT test, this was not a viable option.

It was a bitter winter for me. I felt trapped, under-confident and pessimistic. I had never been lonelier and so friendless. I wanted to go home. To deal with my grief, I decided to write. There were stories brewing in my head since Mumbai but there had been no time to write them down. All through winter, I made the Scarsdale Library my home and poured my heart out into ‘Unravel’. I edited the copy and sent it out to publishers in India.

One day in spring when I was walking outdoors again, a lady ran up beside me. She said, “I have been watching you walk for some time. You look like you are having great fun. I like that.”
Before I could think of anything smart to say, she ran ahead. Something in me shifted that day. I finally felt at home. As I walked I thought. It was time to change my perspective. My ‘thin’ ship had sailed a long time ago and I may never be the typical slim, sexy Scarsdale mom. I might never experience the corporate American dream in a DKNY suit either. I had grown up in India and understood it well but the dynamics of my new home were different. I had to unlearn a few things and learn some afresh.

I joined a writing group, stepped out to make new friends and learnt to use zucchini, broccoli and kale in my Indian cooking. I decided to not go with the Indian publisher; instead I self-published my book ‘Unravel’, because my new friends in the US wanted to read it too.

Sometimes it takes a kind word at the appropriate moment to shift one’s perspective. I never encountered that woman again, but I hope she will read this and know how her act of kindness made me feel welcome!