The Fairy-Tale Syndrome

Fairy-tales are ridiculous at all levels. Princesses trapped in castles, (guarded by all kinds of horrific monsters) daughters sold into marriage, women agreeing to give away their first-born to strangers, parents leaving kids in the woods, and what not. The Brothers Grimm were very grim people indeed. And don't even get me started on the standards of beauty and woman-hood they espoused. Given a choice, I would never introduce my children to the traditional fairy-tales. But I doubt that the media and entertainment industry would give me a choice. Will cross that bridge when I reach it.

But they do suggest simple solutions. Like Sleeping Beauty, pricked on the thumb, to sleep away as the years pass on by, only to be woken by her True Love's kiss. I wish I could sleep time away like that. To be woken up to guaranteed happiness or to not wake up at all.

If only life was so simple.

The Indian Railways Experience: "Designed" to be a Death Trap?

I am taking a train after almost a year. It is a cozy journey. The seats are also berths; the travelers are eating, talking, having political debates ; the vendors selling everything from water to vada-pav, and the general ho-hum of the AC-3-Tier coach running at full capacity. I marvel at the possibly unique phenomenon the Indian train journeys are. I am also, as often before, left with several questions.

Has anybody ever noticed the 2.5 feet wide doors that mark both the entrances to the passage of any air-conditioned coach? Of course you have, that's the door where your suitcases get stuck as you are desperately trying to embark/disembark with a long queue tut-tutting their disapproval right behind you. Why would you design a medium of mass transport with bottlenecks at each end? Did the designer have a serious bone to pick with people carrying massive pieces of luggage? Maybe somebody dropped a 5 by 5 by 5 trunk on his/her foot. Is that a worthy enough reason to make life tough for the rest of us mere mortals? Not only are those doors inconvenient, they are a potential, and often, very real death trap. A coach that carries 78 people on an average has a 2.5 feet exit at each end. After this, there is a small lobby, where you have to take a 90 degree turn to exit the coach fully through a (thankfully) regular sized exit. Even in regular situations, you don't have to perform a CFD analysis to determine that it takes an inordinately large time for all 78 people to pass through. Add to that the panic caused in an emergency, and the ineptness of the design becomes a life-or-death issue. I am not even sure about the reason for this design. It seems that the purpose of the small passageway exits is to make sure that the heat and draught don't get in. Would it be so much harder to achieve if the size of the door was doubled? What is even more worrying is that this design has persisted through my entire lifetime, and probably much longer before that. Accident after accidents, an enquiry being ordered after each, no modifications have been made to the design. 

It isn't as if changes are not made to rail coaches regularly. Just today, I was pleasantly surprised to find several changes in the design. The guard/support staff have their own mini-cabin at the end of the coach, the AC vents are positioned so as to be easily accessed and controlled by each passenger on the upper berth individually, the bathrooms show some structural modifications. Yet, this fundamental design flaw has been overlooked for decades, despite large scale rail accidents  taking place with alarming regularity.

I understand that our railways are our lifeline. The ability to fit 78 people in that small space and yet have place for each one to sleep is commendable. But at what cost? Would removing a berth on each end be too large a sacrifice to make for safety consideration? Are our lives that dispensable?

I am hopeful that the Indian Railways are on the verge on experiencing a massive overhaul. Thanks to the new, "visionary" prime-minister, China and Japan are both entering the Indian railway space in a major way. It doesn't make me particularly happy to see 100% FDI in Railways, but seeing the apathy of the current system, perhaps we can call this a necessary evil. Maybe the rest of the world takes safety somewhat more seriously than us. Let us hope the Chinese do a better job in designing the new system (even though "Made in China" does send a shudder down the spine) and the changes are eventually implemented throughout the network.    

The week (or so) That Was

I spent an hour this evening trying to find an example of a slashed Tudor garment on the web today. In the Consumer Behavior class, we had a discussion about what people are, what they aspire to be, and what they dissociate themselves with. The discussion came with a pretty interesting case study about Burberry (The British apparel brand) and the problem it faced with the brand suddenly becoming very popular with an unlikely customer base. The "Chavs" (Apparent British slang for a person who wears fashionable brands, flashy jewelry, etc., but is regarded as having bad or lower-class taste. Apparent because I never once heard it in all my time in Britain) somehow became fond of the trademark Burberry pattern and started to use the pattern everywhere, houses, cars, nails et all. Burberry started to lose its customers because why would anybody who could buy Burberry do so and be likened with the Chavs. Anyway, long story short, Burberry reinvented itself as an even higher class brand with the help of subtle designs, royal endorsements and a line that's even more expensive. Happy ending for Burberry!

 

During class, I remembered seeing a painting of one of the Queens once long back in art, and my art teacher telling me how the Queen's dress had slits so that her white underwear could shine through. Cheeky bastards these British royals I tell you! I told that to the professor today and she asked if I could send her an example of the same. So I spent an hour in the evening trying to find it. I realized, Google search is hard when you are as vague and scatter-brained as I am, but perseverance would still get you anywhere. As soon as I figured out what I was searching for, I found an abundance of results. I am attaching some examples with this post so that when I go through this sometime after 15 years, Googling isn't as hard. Of course, I cannot begin to comprehend the leaps and bounds technology would have taken by then. We live in a terrifyingly fast age.  And Google has the answer to everything! 

 

I have also been watching BBC's Ms Marple series again. Oh, how I love Agatha Christie. And the BBC rendition, though old, or perhaps because of it, is just so marvelously done. It's very rare for a TV series based on a book to be this good, but BBC would do that to you. Remember, BBC Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth? Sigh.

 

Combine all of this with a text from Natalie and I am transported back to England. The British countryside, the rainy, awful weather, the school, the kids, the vastness of open spaces, the lack of colour in life, Pett's Wood high street with the library, the art supply story, Maa's bakery, all the charity shops; the cleanliness, the uninterested people, the walking A LOT, Christmas and Easter, the sunset at 4 or 10 (depending on the month), the God awful cold, the Marks and Spencer's, my friends and their families, the being different, the wanting the fit in, the fitting in so well that I didn't feel different any more, the 208, Holly's bitchy group, my wonderful, misfit friends, the red phone boxes, the oh-so-many-woods all around, all the illness, the brown uniform, the never knowing what to wear, the stopping to care what to wear, walking home with Liana, the shopping once I had a job, the first, awful, hateful job, but earning, the cricket obsession! That list should have ended long back, but I can't seem to stop (and I am sure I have screwed up the commas). It's hard to believe over 10 years have gone by since I came back. Not because it feels just like yesterday, but because it feels like another lifetime.

 

I would like to live abroad for a few year with him. I know it won't be the same. I can never get as intimate with the local people of another country again. Childhood is such a good age. Now I am too old to experience without preconceived notions. Not to mention, I find it incredibly hard to fit in anywhere. Back then I was just thrown into circumstances with no option but to swim or sink, and eventually, swim I did. Now, I sit in my room, watch online TV, and wait for this year to end. It used to take me a year or so to fit in, another to really enjoy the new environment, and a little bit more to really fall in love. You would think that with age (or the wisdom that comes with it) and confidence would make the process somewhat quicker. Instead, I am old, and more rigid, and too cocky to go out and connect. Yet I am sure I would make a friend or two by the end of the year, and miss the "time at ISB" after I have left. Life, only beautiful in retrospect.

 

The last thought in the highly unstructured post is about being a bitch. I realized about a fortnight back what an absolute pain-in-the-ass BITCH I am to him at times. It isn't as if I hadn't realized this before. I did at times and then justified my actions in my head. But something strange happened, I confessed this to him and decided I will try my level best to not do it anymore. Now every time I feel irritated, I ask myself, "Is this fair to him?" and most of the times, the reply is a firm, disapproving NO. The other times, it isn't as firm but then I tell myself to Not-Be-A-Bitch. Has kept me unbelievably calm lately. When I am not able to talk to him or I miss him, instead of feeling angry, I end up feeling "my sweet, adorable baby". It shocks me, but it's a very happy shock. So along with Facebook, I seem to be doing very well on breaking the Being-A-Bitch habit. Too early to declare either of them eradicated, but I am keeping my fingers crossed that I can continue this forever.

 

Phew, that's a hell lot to writing that just happened! Now to kick CFIN's ass!

 

PS: My bike broke down in the middle of the road today. Had to go to a lot of trouble, and spend a lot of money to get it fixed. (Thank God, I have wonderful friends.) I love her, I really do, but she is so old and worn out. If I could, I would change half the parts in there and have her running smooth, but they never seem to detect half the problems when she is in the service centre, and she never seems to get fully better, whatever I may try. I just don't know how to keep her fit and running, but I cannot let her go.

Fever

I am gripped by a feverish desire to backpack. Alone. In India.

I have travelled alone before, for work, for exams, for just the day, for a week, in train, in bus, in a hurry. But I have never travelled alone for pleasure inside India. It is easy when you are abroad, nobody gives you a second glance. But a girl travelling alone in India, without a purpose, and with no destination at the end of the day. Doesn't seem possible, does it? To me either. Hence the feverish desire perhaps.

Rite of passage or foolhardy spirit? More on this later.

The Sunday driver

I couldn't think up a synonym for 'novice' starting with the letter M (more on the reason for that later), so I decided to google it. I chanced upon the "Sunday driver" and it struck a chord (though thankfully, not a lamp-post).

So the Sunday driver is Moi in this case. I am taking two marketing courses this term, and for those two hours of this dreary MBA life, I am happy again. I stop feeling dreadful and inadequate and out-of-depth, and just enjoy the lectures.

When I first studied marketing, I was infatuated. My mind seemed to work in the classroom and I never-ever felt sleepy. And all of this, even without coffee! The marketing course in the second term was somewhat less exciting, but the crush persisted nonetheless. I decided to take relationship advice from the only friend who I knew had also courted marketing at one point in his life. He asked me to take it slow. I did. The absence of any marketing courses in the next term helped, but I was thoroughly miserable.

Now marketing is back in my life, and I am (almost) sure this is love. Can this become a relationship? Can marketing be The One for me? I do not know yet. But I am determined to find out. The path is still unchartered, the feelings yet to be analyzed in depth, but I will give it a go.

I know I will be up against the marketing mavens (hence the search for a synonym for novice starting with an M, to describe Moi), and India being the toughest arena in the world right now, getting a job will not be an easy task. I am a Sunday driver competing in a race with the regulars. The ones who honk if you take more than two seconds to move when the traffic signal turns green. The ones who know all tricks in the book to side-step and overtake you. So I have to find a road I am familiar with. I have to figure out that out of all the roads I have walked on, which one provides me with an advantage in the race. Reminds me of the 'Dastardly and Muttley Show'.

The race starts in 3-2-1!