But you're a vegetarian!

Almost every (non-vegetarian) person I meet seems to think that a vegetarian foodie is something of a paradox. But I'm here, I'm vegetarian, and I love food. Get over it, meat-eaters. I'm not judging you, so don’t judge me.

You might say, “But what’s there in vegetarian food for you to love?” I say, lots. And I have never eaten kale or quinoa (or tofu, for that matter) so I know what I'm talking about. Where do I get my protein from? Well, lentils, milk and soya. Don’t I miss out on the exquisite taste? No, I've never tasted meat, thanks to my upbringing. And now I don’t want to, by choice.

That doesn't mean I don’t love and adore food. I eat out a lot, and living in a country where there’s a significant presence of vegetarianism (both full-time and part-time) in the culture, helps. Being a vegetarian is respected, but with a little pity added to the mixture. A sort of “Oh you poor thing, you can’t have real food”. So all vegetables and fruit are imaginary, you say? Interesting. In that case, I'm living on air. Air shouldn't make me put on weight. Ergo, my being overweight is also a figment of your imagination. Go away and pester someone who does eat “real” food to workout.

“Not even eggs? But eggs are vegetarian!” Is another common refrain. Eggs may be vegetarian in some people’s books, but not in mine. There’s no need to get belligerent and quote famous people at me, it won’t work.

I honestly don’t understand why being a vegetarian should define me. It’s not all that I am. And it certainly shouldn't let people belittle my foodie status. The Oxford Dictionary defines a foodie as “a person with a particular interest in food”, i.e. I'm a foodie according to this definition. Food includes vegetables and such like, the last time I checked.

So to all of you who say (or think) I can’t be both vegetarian and a foodie, try eating only meat and animal products for a week. No herbs allowed, because they’re of vegetable origin. No pepper either, for obvious reasons. And then we’ll talk.

Bon appetit!

Memory Lane, with a few twists and turns.

I came across an old journal of mine today. (No, I don’t keep journals any more. I blog, to your eternal annoyance.) It moved me to tears. Not because the writing was so good, but because it was so earnest. It was me, writing my heart out about my innermost feelings and deepest thoughts.

They might seem like typical teenage troubles, and they were. But the sincerity and the vulnerability were what moved me, the cynical grown-up person who thinks she can take on the world.

In the end, that’s what matters about great writing — that it comes from the heart. That it has a modicum of sincerity and genuineness, an innocence of sorts sometimes. A good book draws a reader into itself with this quality. I guess even a truly cynical book would work, if it were sincere enough in its cynicism.

This applies to fiction too, of course. Would you read something the author didn't believe in when they wrote it? I think not.That’s why Lord of The Rings works. That’s why Eragon works, even though it draws so heavily from LoTR that you wonder if there’s any point in counting points of similarity.

That is what any writer wants to do — to engage a reader so completely that they forget about the world they’re in, even if it’s for a second; to get their point across. To tell their story.

On a lighter note, I'm happy to report in my capacity as Grammar Nazi, that I crossed my ‘t’s and dotted my ‘i’s in that journal. I guess I was a bit of a stickler even as a quasi-rebellious teenager.

Well, that girl grew up. Has she changed for the better? Has she overcome her issues, at least some of them? How is she doing now?

Why, I'm doing very well, thank you.

(Yay! Crossed the one-week milestone well and good! That was something.)

Get Going.

Live. Love. Eat. Drink. Be Happy. Be Sad. Succeed. Fail. Fall. Get up. Get going.

This is something I wrote for myself a little while ago, when I was in a black mood (I have a lot of those). It didn't cheer me up completely, but it did something important. It made me think. We are conditioned (especially in India) that failure is something really bad, and once you fail, that’s it. You’re a failure now. Period.

So most of us are scared of failing, and the fear is not of getting hurt in the process, but of what everyone will say if we do. “What will everyone say?” manages to silence a lot of so-called rebellions here. We’re supposed to have moved beyond that. But behind the shining and incredible façade, social mores still hold their sway over a significant portion of the country’s population.

Very few people can actually go against the grain except in the big cities. But there are people who are not paranoid about failing. We’re all afraid to fall, of not being able to achieve what we set out to accomplish. But a few are willing to be perceived as failures if their ventures don’t go as planned. And they have the tenacity to keep trying their damned best.

I am going to try my best to do what I wrote at the beginning of this post. I'm going to pick myself up, dust myself off and have another go.

Keep Calm and Write

I've been thinking for more than three hours about what to write today. Half-formed ideas flit around at the edge of my consciousness. Very tantalising, and I'm sure they’re all having fun, but I'm not. Will one of you ideas come here right now and take shape?

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It’s half an hour later. Those ideas seem to have gone off, formed a union, and started a strike of sorts. I feel a writer’s block coming on. This is just what I wanted to address when I started this project. I wanted to sit down, focus, and write. Sitting down, check. Focus, trying. Writing, well yes, if this counts.

You know what, I won’t give up on this. I set out to write every day. And I will. Even if it means writing about how I can’t seem to put anything down in writing. Maybe it’s because I didn't go out in two days. Maybe because I've been thinking too much of things there’s no point thinking about. But there are so many things to write about irrespective of that.

Maybe that’s why. There are a lot of things I want to write about. That’s why no single idea is coming into focus right now. Until today, I've been pretty clear about what I want to write about that particular day. It’s only today that I actually thought, “Hey, what am I going to write about today?”

All right, now that I know the problem, I'm going to make a list of things I want to write about, and focus on one of them at a time, instead of vaguely wondering about what to write.

And look! I did write today. I did accomplish something. And I learnt something too. Not bad for a listless grumpy binge-eating kind of day.

What Came After The Sigh Yesterday

Yesterday’s post got me thinking. How did that guy end up being a team lead? And a technical one at that? For those not familiar with the terminology, a technical team lead in the IT (or IT services) industry is supposed to be someone who can not only manage the team and interface with the project, other teams and/or the clients; but can also contribute to the team at a technical level, specifically, coding.

What does it say about the IT sector in India, if this sort of role is filled by someone who can’t even grasp a simple concept after working on it and even contributing to the code, for many months? Granted, most of the business the Indian IT giants do comes from volume and not technological brilliance. But the trend is disturbing. Incompetence actually seems rewarded. Perhaps the only competence such people have is in scraping by and holding on to their jobs.

How do they manage to do that? For one thing, they lean on peers and subordinates to do their work. They need the team members to tell them what to put in an email, and how to phrase it so the client can understand.

The manager above them steps in and manages crisis situations, and the blame usually falls on some poor scapegoat, when 90% of the time the crisis is because of bad people and/or time management, and bad communication. Day to day work in the team goes on because there is usually someone or some people in the team who actually knows what needs to be done and does it. This someone is the actual leader who gets things done, and unfortunately, is usually the one who is blamed when things go wrong. Why? Because this person is earnest and hard-working, and went beyond what was required because of his/her work ethic.

There are, of course, tremendously talented and competent individuals in these kinds of roles, but in general they are found few and far between. Usually it’s people like this guy, who basically just take updates from their team and present it as the result of their management prowess during project update meetings. Well I guess this is why they still have their jobs. Project-level managers are usually people who rose from managing teams to managing projects, so they are mostly the same kind of people. It’s all very clique-y really.

Which brings me to the main issue here, namely, what kind of effect is all this having on the global perception of these companies. The clients obviously feel that these companies can’t be relied upon to do any original work. So most of the projects are maintenance, where one line of code change goes through multiple rounds of review and reams of red tape buries any spark of creativity, brilliance or even productivity after a while. Even when there is design work involved, most of the time the control is with the client. There is very little independent design ongoing, compared to the sheer volume of business coming in from maintenance.

It also perpetuates stereotypes — that of the tongue-tied drone who can only does as he/she is told and has no original thoughts or opinions. That of the boorish semi-educated idiot who can hardly string a sentence together, and certainly cannot grasp even simple concepts. There is an urgent need to recognise that a problem exists here, and start a dialogue to address it.

People should have the minimum competence required to do their job without having to take credit for others’ effort.

There are a lot of things wrong with this sector. Glass ceilings, gender discrimination, juniors in the team working hours only a slave would work in other times and places, etc. But if people who know how to do their jobs are in control of teams, the lives of team members will definitely improve, and with that, a gradual improvement can and will take place in other areas too.

Too stupid to even be stupid.

This conversation happened over a phone call earlier today.

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“This is about the authentication mechanism you worked on before you left our team. The guys have defined the user under People, and now the login isn't happening.”

“The board expects the user to be defined under Users. Otherwise it won’t be authenticated. We've discussed this before.”

“Yes but they defined the user under People and now it won’t authenticate.”

“The board looks for that particular distinguished name. If the user isn't defined with the proper group, it won’t allow login.”

“The guys defined it under People.”

“The board expects Users or it won’t allow login. You can use the definition file I wrote while I was still working with the team.”

“We did but now the guys changed it to People and it doesn't work any more.”

“Either you should change the user definition to the right group or the people coding for the board authentication should change what they expect from potential users.”

“But the board guys won’t change their code.”

“Use the original definition file I created, then.”

“The guys changed it to People and now it won’t work.”

“Try changing it back to Users.”

“But the guys changed it to People.”

“I'm sorry, I have to go now. Bye.”

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Why did I even answer the phone? Does anyone else think this is incredibly stupid or is it just me? Did I not try hard enough? Would there have been any point in trying a little longer to explain?

Sigh.

Vizag Vignettes

The salty tang in the air, the combination of moisture and fine sand clouding my glasses, the sea, the beach, the Dolphin’s Nose in the distance. Beach Road. For those who have called Visakhapatnam (or Vizag, courtesy of the British) home for any length of time, the beach road evokes many poignant memories. All the hours spent there in the company of family, friends, or even oneself, come rushing in.

Well, I went for a walk along the beach road this evening. There was a nice breeze blowing, and it was a weekday so it wasn't that crazy. There was actually place for me to walk without having to call out “Excuse me!” every few metres. There were a few fishing boats in the middle distance, probably heading home with the evening catch.

The vendors were out in full force, most notably those selling the ubiquitous muri mixture — puffed rice, tomatoes, onions, bits of mango, salt, chilli powder and lime juice. Heaven in a paper cone. The roasted corn cobs, bajjis and noodles also had their fair share. And there were a lot more ice cream bandis than I remembered.

The flower boys with their baskets of jasmine on bicycles were trying to coax couples to buy “flowers for the lady’s hair”. The balloon guys were trying to attract attention with their rubber squeak symphony.





The submarine museum and the Victory at Sea monument were undergoing either renovation or repair work, I couldn't really tell. There was a handicrafts exhibition on at the Viswapriya Function Hall, as usual.

I walked. I listened to my favourite music. I took a few photos with my phone. I walked. I ignored the stares of a few stray oglers. I looked out at the sea. I absorbed all the sights and sounds and smells of this vibrant place. I walked. I was home.

The sun had almost set by the time I started walking back. The lights twinkled on at the harbour, and the lighthouse came to life. The street lights switched on a few seconds later, suffusing everything with a yellow glow. The ships on the horizon became spots of light on the midnight blue ocean.

The wind came in from the sea, and a few drops of rain fell, dispersing the evening mist a little. It was breathtaking. The sand blew on to the road in greater quantities. I tried to catch sight of the moon, but there was a cloud cover, so I couldn't.


I felt a lot of things during this walk. Nostalgia, hope, happiness, belonging, some more things. I remembered the long walks with my best friend, when we lost track of time and distance, and talking about anything and everything. I missed all my friends, and the great times we had playing in the surf and hogging on all the street food, trying to catch the tiny translucent crabs that came out at low tide. Half-forgotten things came to the forefront of my mind.

It was also good cardio. I walked a total of 6 kilometres in an hour, after more than a month of binge eating and being sedentary. I loved it. And now my legs are screaming out in pain, but I tell them, “It was worth it. And we’re going again tomorrow.”

About Me. Well, What?

I did something really difficult today. I wrote an introduction about myself (in third person, no less!) to put on a website for which I'm doing the content. The first version was as flavourful as the best cardboard money can buy. The second was a paean of praise that made me embarrassed even to proof-read it.

I ultimately churned out something mid-way between both the first drafts, and it got me wondering. What exactly made it so difficult? Am I really so uncomfortable talking to myself? Or is it something else? And then it struck me. It was the need for brevity. The introduction I had to write was to be no more than a short paragraph of three or four sentences, and it also had to have a little about what inspires me.

I had to decide what to put in it. I had to glean a few aspects of myself and my entire life, select some, and put it all in a few sentences. I had to decide one or a maximum of two things/people which/who inspire me. That decision was the tough part. Should I write about the lazy person who simply does not want to wake up in the morning but stays up all night immersed in a book? (Lord of The Rings, un-put-down-able, I tell you.) About the girl who waxes eloquent about the spirals of steam rising from her morning cuppa, or the cynic who thinks the universe is out to bite everyone in the ass? About the ace procrastinator or the “now or never” person who gets things done? I am both. At different times, in different moods, of course. But both are integral parts of who I am.

And the part about what inspires me. I am a creature of the moment, of the present mood. I have a really tough time answering questions about my favourite song or cinema or book. I have many, I simply cannot name one. Each one speaks to me differently and has a different kind of appeal, depending on my mood. I had to choose from millions of things and moments and people, to write about one that inspires me the most.

I ended up choosing the sea, and P.G. Wodehouse. The sea, because the sight of the ocean always calms me down and reminds me that I am just part of a much larger whole. The sea is ever-changing, yet it endures. And Wodehouse, because nothing lifts my blackest moods better than some Wooster sauce with a side of Jeeves. Wodehouse churned out some of the best, funniest, wittiest prose the world has ever seen. He did it effortlessly. And you just bask in its glow. Reading Wodehouse reminds me that there’s a lighter side to life, and you can find it if you look at it the right way.

So until tomorrow, cheerio and pip pip! What?

If Frodo can take the One Ring to Mordor...

... I can get out of bed and go to work. That’s what I told myself to combat the now-familiar feeling of despair I feel the minute I wake up. Of late, work has been nothing but boring on the purely technical side; and nothing but frustrating in all other aspects. The thought of going to work fills me with misery every morning these days, and I'm not exaggerating.

So I told myself to suck it up like Frodo and get to work. It’s so hard to push yourself to do something that you don’t like. But sometimes it just has to be done, there’s no other way. Until I find another project or another job at any rate.

Atleast I don’t have Gollum following me, or orcs hunting me. That should cheer me up a little. But I find myself saying, “If only there were orcs” wistfully. Is my job really that bad? Not according to the millions of unemployed youth in the world. It pays the bills.

And so, I'm off. To do what I must so that my bills get paid and order is restored to the world.