I could think of nothing intelligent to say.

"So, is it true that there are cows just walking about on Indian streets and people are starving?" 


I wasn't sure if I had heard the question right. Or if an earlier part of the conversation had clues to what I was asked. I am slow by a slight when talking to the locals, because I still find myself acutely aware of the assumptions I have to deal with before I can speak to the actual person, then too with an impregnable coat of 'American sensibilities'. I have so far managed to befriend *one* American who doesn't mind my saying like it is, and who tells me like it is. 


I have let go of the expectation of hearing my name said correctly in firangland. Everyone here calls me She-leee-nee, when I am actually Shaa-li-ni. (Really, how difficult is that?!) But then again, its so similar in spelling to most of the Italian food (specifically pasta) that I cannot blame them. I don't notice it anymore either. This one guy who I had met on a bus ride back home from school had said my name exactly right in his first attempt. Ironically, he was an Italian (and amused at how happy hearing my name said correctly had made me)


I should really stick to what I was saying at the beginning of this post. So, a couple of days ago, I was at the volunteer thing and watching this deft  plumber person at his job (Skilled crafts like plumbing and electrical work earns you ~100$ an hour, I should have got my MS in some such skill. At least I would be making money then) I was asking him some questions, like the gauge of the copper pipe being installed, the material he was using for insulation etc etc (I can be quite nerdy) (And I like that about me)


It was his turn to ask me questions then, and he asked me what I did and where I came from. And then he asked me if it was true that there were people starving in India and there were cows on the street.  I swear I blanked out. This was perhaps the most original question I had been asked. EVER. 


So I started mumbling something incoherent in reply, starting from "umm...hmm....(confused look, brain processing a LOT of information)...umm". "Well, most Indians are vegetarians, and most of those who aren't certainly don't eat beef. Cows are considered sacred in our scriptures, actually the bull is a mode of transportation used by one of our Gods. And usually the cows on the streets are someone's property. So you can't just take them home and cook them."


Could I have given a stupider reply? I think not. I guess I cannot blame the Western world for their assumptions about  the East. I can still not think of an 'intelligent' reply, something that wouldn't have made me (and Indians in general) look like a moron. 


Apologies to the world. And to fellow Indians. 

not been here for a while..

February comes to a close in less than two weeks and I have not had the chance to drain my mind. Well, actually I have been coming here, staring at my edit posts list (I had started a few quite enthusiastically but lost steam soon after, so I put them of hold till my next brain wave. Which never came and I lost the line of thought.) So while deleting a couple of them today, I was swept in a wave of guilt, and annoyed with my incapacity at pinning down *all* my mind wanderings with words.

I am writing without a specific agenda . Its strange because usually I nudge myself in the direction that is attracting my thought molecules. Since I can be quite a scatterbrain, I find it impossible to go back to revise a post, or save it for later.

I have spent most of my childhood and adolescence being completely opaque to the idea of fitness and well being, mostly working on the assumption that my metabolism will take care (after all, that is what it is for, right?). And Yoga (the yoga bit still holds very true). I was never introduced to the idea of playing a sport for the sheer joy of it. I have dabbled with basketball and badminton, but have never known the rush of playing. ( I dislike myself for it.) Things only got worse after graduation and when I got into my job. Work was all I did and work life was the only life I had. For three years. I probably aged by a decade in that time span.

One day, for no apparent reason, I went for a jog. It was my first time, and it took me a while to teach myself how to run without ruining my knees or ankles. I have been more or less regular about it since. Running makes me happy and my sense of self worth takes quite a leap. =)

Sensitivity to my health and psyche has seen a considerable improvement over time, it started with acknowledging the idea that as you get older, the body has to work more at keeping fit. I decided to help myself, did some reading on Ayurved, fitness and food (still do it with reasonable regularity) Indian cooking is so versatile and healthy that an average person like me needn't necessarily put a lot of thought to whether the body is getting the nutrients it needs. But I am working on slight improvisations for more benefits, adding more raw foods to my diet, specifically fruits. I am more aware of what I eat and find myself calculating the amount of work I should do to burn my food intake.

I want to keep a written record of what I eat, but have still not got down to doing it. Perhaps that will prove my paranoia on the subject. Yesterday, in a phone conversation with my dad, I mentioned to him that I have resolved to eat one fruit in every meal. (This was one of my several 100-watt light bulbs for my health.) I have quite a list, (like) consume two liters of water per day, eat a very light dinner at around seven in the evening. I haven't yet been able to achieve these targets completely, but I try.

The silence on the other end of the phone told me that my father had reconciled to the fact that his twenty eight year old (still unmarried) daughter has finally lost her marbles. Not that she had many to begin with, but she should have dearly held onto the ones she had.