Apparently, not many people have heard of the work-life balance..

Conversation with friend, after I told him that my mom has started "joking" about getting me married.

Him: Haha, so when is it going to happen?
Me: I don't know. Not for a while.
Him: Yeah, but how much time do you think it'll take?
Me: Well, umm, anything between a year and a half to three years.
Him: Hmmm, a year and a half is very little time. Don't you want to work?

The high-pitched screaming that he was subjected to after this cannot be replicated here, so I'm just going to skip that part of the conversation.

I don't get it. I seriously don't.

Why do people assume that you can't work and get married at the same time? I mean, some of our moms worked when they got married, right? And they're still at it! Of course, I get the part about how, after you get married, your priorities change, you have more responsibilities, you can't just go do anything you want, you need to devote time to your family, blah blah blah. I get it. I really do. And that's fine. But how marriage amounts to an absolute negation of your professional life, I don't get.

It's not an either/or situation for me right now. It never will be, and that's because I know I can do both. Whether I choose to do one over the other later in life is a different matter altogether. I've always imagined myself working and having a family at the same time. Heck, in six months, I'd hopefully have graduated from school and will be working full time. But maybe, I shouldn't do that because if I start working, how will I spend time with my family? Or wait -- do my parents and sibling not count as "real" family that needs time and attention?

Is it just me or is there something absolutely wrong with this line of thinking?

Diwali musing

None of the flatmates are at home. I wish they were. It's too quiet, too silent, not peaceful. I do hear the sound of the occasional commuter rail passing by our neighborhood, but besides that, it's awfully dead. I can hear the silence. It weighs on my ears, and I don't like it. I wish more trains would pass by today, or that the perpetually inebriated undergrads from the opposite building would commence their weekend celebrations. But they don't. 

And then I think of the other side of the world. And how in one hour and 32 minutes, my colony (as neighborhoods are lovingly called back home) will start the 24-hour party, at the end of which it will look like a freshly abandoned wedding lawn. Paper, plastic, string, matchsticks will accumulate in one united mess across the streets. The air will have a metallic zing to it that everyone will inhale happily, while cursing the pollution at the same time. Smiles will be frequent, as will be hugs, gifts and laughter. Cars will honk through gleeful crowds, on their way to join some other party. Inside them, families will sit decked in new festive finery, their clothes matching the mood of their animated conversation. Sometimes, a mother like mine will start feeling super-religious and coax her family to visit the local gurudwara, and since it's Diwali, her family will oblige. On their porches, other parents will continue to cast supervisory glances at their kids bursting crackers, while making polite conversations with their guests. Teenagers will walk around the colony, talking and laughing loudly, too old for firecrackers, too young for clubs.

This will go on till midnight, when one by one, everyone will retreat to their homes. The kids will be the first to get tired, and with them, the firecrackers will stop. Families will start returning home a little after that, usually with children sleeping in the back seat. Others will still be out, chatting with neighbors who used to be friends, silently resolving to keep in touch more often. Soon, they'll leave too. And the next day, everyone will wake up to paper-y mess and polluted air.

Life will be normal again, though made a little better by the memories of Diwali past.

But on this side of the world, nothing will change. Bah.

I go to a fun grad school

Grad school has officially taken over my life. Again. A full-time courseload and two jobs. I might as well commit suicide. Though I can't deny I'm loving every bit of it!

I'm taking a course that deals with online communication strategy and we've been watching a lot of fun YouTube videos in  class (no prizes for guessing my favourite course this semester!) I thought I'd share a couple of them here, since they are just so darn impressive/funny/thought-provoking.

If any of you follow me on Twitter, you'll recall that I had tweeted about this great video a couple of weeks ago. I keep going back to it, not only because I agree with whatever it says, but also because of the way it's made. And there are millions out there like me. What better way of exemplifying their message? If you do something online, and you do it right, you'll reap immense benefits -- eyeballs, clicks and hits aside, people will remember your message and internalize it. Just like I did this video.



But my favourite is the one that follows. It made me shake with restrained laughter at the head of the class. It made my eyes water. It made me do the single-clap, something the Punjabi in me does every time I find something amazingly hilarious.

Before you watch it, here's some background to help you enjoy the video better: Dave Carroll, a  musician, was traveling on United Airlines with his bandmates. They're on the plane, getting ready to take off or land, I forget which one, when the woman seated behind Carroll looks out of the window and remarks that someone's guitars are being gravely mishandled by the baggage staff. Needless to say, the equipment belonged to Dave and his band.

Moments to watch out for: even through that crazy laughter, it made me smile nostalgically at 2:10. You'll be able to tell why. Yes, I'm an emotional fool. Also, I thought the cutest moment comes at 3:28/3:29. It made me aww a lot at the band, and then cuss liberally at United.


What followed would have been considered a nightmare for United's PR staff, had they any sense in them. Dave kept asking for compensation for his now-broken guitar. United kept giving him the standard-big-company-response: We're sorry about what happened but there's nothing we can do about it. Of course, they were forced to sing a different tune after Dave wrote this song in their honour:




Take that, United Airlines!