It’s been a whirlwind trip so far. It just hit me that I have two weeks left in India. Granted, I’ll be back in February, but hitting the two-week mark sent waves of panic (WAY too much left to do), sadness (I really will miss my family), and excitement (Dunkin Donuts, no time differences, and not paying $1.99 for television shows) through me. It feels like yesterday that I was groggily departing the plane, shuffling my way through customs, and plopping into the car and attempted to sleep as our driver maneuvered through the bumpy roads of Hyderabad.
Our two day trip to Mumbai flew by; fitting in meetings and the wedding of my father’s college best friend’s daughter in 48 hours is no easy task. For the many times I have flown through Mumbai, I haven’t really SEEN the city. We spent most of our time by the airport (where the wedding was held) and Thane (where our meetings were held), but the biggest takeaway of that short jaunt was that I simply must go back for a proper visit. There’s a LOT to see: the IIT campus (where my father did his master’s), Victoria Terminus, the Taj Mahal hotel, the view of the Arabian Sea. Reading Shantaram while in Mumbai was a bit surreal; there were many moments when I just wanted to walk outside and wander like Lin, and take in the city from his eyes. I promised myself that someday I would do exactly that–once I find the time and learn enough Hindi to get by. Anyone game?
On the topic of books, I could NOT put down Bobby and Jackie: A Love Story. The book recounts the now-known affair between Jackie and Bobby Kennedy, which I found fascinating. For some reason, the assassination of RFK inexplicably weighs heavy on my heart, almost as heavy as the deaths of my late grandparents and uncle. I feel as if our country was cheated out of a potentially GREAT president, and often try and imagine how our history, our country, our lives would be different if RFK had indeed been president. In any case, this book was a compelling read, and in the light of the Tiger Woods’ revelations really had me pondering fidelity. I am of the opinion that if you’re going to cheat, don’t get married. Don’t get in a serious relationship. If you are committed to another person, then stay committed. That being said, the 1960’s culture wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at Tiger’s indiscretions. How much has our so-called progressive society actually progressed? Or did our icons in the 60’s simply have no moral compass. I keep thinking about this over and over again, for some reason. Perhaps that’s what I’ve been so unproductive…
…or maybe it’s because of this damned Telangana movement. The Telangana separationist movement, while in a lull with the announcement of a new state and the resignation of 92 members of Parliament from Andhra Pradesh, has affected my life more than I would’ve wanted. The (often violent) demonstrations have caused us to close our offices for 5 days in the past few weeks. Meetings and visits have been canceled. Work has halted, pushing timelines back and causing stress on everyone here at TD. All because one guy fasted (to the verge of death) for a creation of a new state that will probably never be formed, since its ratification will never be passed in Parliament if these 92 MPs don’t return. At the end of the day, this whole Telangana debacle simply wasted my time for things to remain the same.
I tried to get in the Christmas spirit by playing my beloved Nutcracker Suite and the Rat Pack Christmas album, but 80 degrees and wearing a salwaar kameez kind of killed my holiday spirit. Currently obsessed with Kid Sister (thank you RCRD LBL) and the Philip Glass album I downloaded free from Amazon. “Molly Is A Dreamer” is my favorite song off the Philip Glass album. It’s haunting, has a great even tempo, and matches my gloomy-happy-confused mood. Has a very Yann Tiersen-Amelie soundtrack sound. I love.
While downloading television shows off iTunes has been abysmally slow here, they have, for the most part, been WORTH it. That Glee finale–perfection. I hate you, American Idol, for putting the Glee-riousness on hiatus. Pout.
Jersey Shore–what the what?!?! It’s a train wreck. I’m totally addicted. And apparently, my Jersey Shore nickname is H-Cat. Click here to see what yours is. I’m only shocked that it took reality television producers this long to showcase the Guido life. Finally, my West Coast friends understand what I’ve been talking about all these years. Guidos really are all that…and then some. The hair gel. The tans. The makeup. The hair (ooooooh, the hair). The clothes. The everything. What a hot mess.
Alright, back to work.
