House hunting- Day 1

Dear People of Hyderabad,

Please, give me a chance to think that you are not psychopathic* idiots.

No love,
Jan


I have moved to Hyderabad to do my M.Phil. On the first day house hunting:

• 7 people refused to even talk to us after they knew that we were single women
• 1 said that I should have a family (I do! I do! but I'm not married you see.)
• 1 house looked like it was out of a set of slumdog millionaire. With paint chipping off the walls, no sunlight, no water, cement floored toilets with no proper plumbing.
• 1 uncle, with a lit cigarette in his hand, asks us if there would be any adults around. (I'm going to be 25 years old in 15 days, and you think I'm not an adult, you sucker!)
• 2 houses did not have proper water supply

Will start the search for a house again tomorrow. Hope we find the perfect house tomorrow.


*for a more elaborate reading of the word psychopath refer to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychopathy

Hair

Ever since I got a really short haircut, I've been told

• you have a stereotypical feminist haircut
• the inmates at thane mental hospital/beggars home/prisons have the same haircut
• aye 'ladka'
• you look like a hottie
• you can totally carry this look off
• I need some time to get over this
• why would you do this to yourself?
• hairdressers these days, they dont know how to cut hair, they cut it too short
• so, will you go bald next?
• lesbian?
• It brings out your eyes
• Your teeth look too big
• Its okay, it will grow out
• She cut her hair because she has too much 'masti'
• I love it!!!!
• You look like a former Chief Minister of Bihar

If I am completely honest with myself, I know that I love my hair. I love that it goes against the gender stereotype of hair. I love that it resembles the haircut that 'so called outcasts' are slapped with. I love that it questions assumptions about my sexuality. I'm amused with the sympathy people seem to offer because they assume that I would not chose to keep my hair short. I love that people automatically make assumptions about my personality. I love that so many are so critical of something as common as short hair. And even though it teaches me a lesson in gender socialisation and gender role stereotype, what I love the most is that I don't need to comb it!

A big fat gujju meal

A big fat gujju meal, must have shrikhand!

Yum!

Bored on the bus

Too bored to even day dream while on the bus,  toying with the bus ticket the bus conductor issued, I did a little 'bus ticket origami'.

Warning: The Speaking Tree

The tree stoops low, across a tiny path that leads from the quadrangle to the health center. A bright yellow sign painted on it reads, "Please mind your head". I think its a desperate warning (by the tree ofcourse) to everyone who enters the institute. And I think of a quote by Mark Twain, because "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most".

Shitalaa Saatam- The two birthdays

Most people in India have two Birthday's. One according to the Roman calender and one according to the Lunar/ Religious/ Hindu calender. I always found it a bit funny that one person was born on 2 separate days. But its more to do with calculating the days differently than  actually having two birthdays.

Being born into a Christian family, I unfortunately had only one every year.

My friend's mother, just texted saying that my birthday according to the Hindu Calender falls on the Seventh day after the full moon towards the new moon in the month of Shraavan. The day is called 'Shitalaa Saatam' and comes on the 9th of August this year.

So, I guess, I will finally have two birthdays this year!

FYI- People fast on the day of Shitalaa Saatam. Now that I know this, I'd rather go back to not having a second birthday. :p

A little paper birdie brought me love

The 'origami geek' sent 'dher saara pyaar' via 'origami crane earrings'! 

They arrived in the post today and since they are so gorgeous; here are pictures.

Thank you so so so much!!! You really made me smile :)

doobie

In 'Bareli' (a lanuage/dialect spoken by the Barela tribe of Madhya Pradesh) a buffalo is called a 'doobie'.

Having mixed up the word, I reffered to a buffalo as 'Boobie'!

At that very moment I made a mental note - A Buffalo is called a boobie doobie.

 P.S. I think this is a picture of cows. But since this is the only picture I have, here it is. For those who know, this was taken on the road that leads to Devnaliya.

Touchings

Once while drinking with a few friends, 'the taklu' asked us if we want any 'touchings'. We called him a pervert and laughed at him.

Today, I found out it actually means something!!!!

samosapedia.com says this:

Touchings. noun.

Accompaniment or snack with alcohol.An inevitable accompaniment in the alcoholic exploits of a Malyali. Mixture peanuts and Chicken 65 are common touchings. However, Pickle/Achaar is also touched with finger and licked after a sip of alcohol making it a touching. 

source:  http://samosapedia.com/entries/3201/Touchings

Trust 'the taklu' to use this word! :D

P.S. I'm not prejudiced towards bald people. Once your hair grows back I'll find another name for you. ;)

She said it, she made my day!

A friend who moved from Bombay to California just told me that she hates it when I leave town even when she is not here.

she made my day :)... Im moving to hyderabad at the end of this month.

oxymoron

'Feminism is the radical notion that women are human beings.'- Cheris Kramarae

'But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God. ' - Bible (1 Corinthians 11:3)

 

not a social worker

Because you are 'not a social worker'... This is for you.
You know who you are.

I'm not a social worker, I'm a social drinker.

Debates on the 'correct' age of marriage

This is why Grand-mom's are awesome.

while at church, I think...

On days when I get dragged to church, this is what goes on in my head...

Women? Who?

Singing in the rain!!!

So, I love the rain. Absolutely love it. The crazier it rains, the better it is.

While, I walked home from the bus stop last evening, it poured and poured and poured. I was drenched within a minute and it felt so nice. The electricity was out and the only light on the road came from headlights of cars passing by or from candles lit in shops. The maddening Mumbai monsoon, slight water logging and a beautiful night. As I walked in the dark, under my umbrella... I sang. I sang as loud as I could. I sang about singing in the rain and I sang about candles and then I sang some more. I sang in the middle of the road. I sang on the footpath. And I sang under my umbrella. The rain was loud enough for none to notice and so I sang some more. 

If Feminism was a person...

If feminism was a person, she would have 'Multiple Personality Disorder'.