Formula 1 Shaadi

I met him in August. We are getting engaged in September. The D-Day is in October. Ise kehte hain Formula One Shaadi. Apna record dekhke to Schumacher ko bhi complex ho jaye !

Thank you people for your wishes and prayers. That proposal did click. Miss Nair is going to become Mrs. Nair. And that too, very very soon. Everything is happening so fast it is sort of overwhelming. Sometimes I get the jitters when I think about it. Sometimes, I find myself looking forward to it. I guess I am behaving like a normal bride to be. And yes, I have stopped ogling for the time being. All the hunks in my office are safe now.

And yes, this blog will have to end, along with my single status. Will start something new like “Main, Mere Pati Aur Woh”, “Chunnu, Munnu and Me”, “Nair and her Nair” etc etc. You know, something really parivarik. Where you can send in family-oriented issues like “My mother-in-law hates the sight of me. Do I throw her down the building like Shah Rukh did in Baazigar or do I just throw her out the house?” And I will sit down and pen the answers while hubby dear cooks and cleans the house. What say ?

Koi Mil Gaya :)

I met someone. After months of rejecting marriage proposals left and right. After very carefully and meticulously planning what I will do with my life alone. After giving names to even the pets that I would have in order to keep me company when I stay alone in a flat in Hyderabad, my favorite city. I finally met a guy with whom I think I can survive.

No, it was no love at first sight. It was just another boring marriage proposal that my folks had fetched from some marriage bureau. What made me say yes in the first round was the fact that the guy wanted girls who were educated outside Kerala. I thought at least this guy will be different from a typical mallu guy and wouldn’t faint or choke when he sees that my hair is shorter than his. The second round consisted of viewing photographs. The guy didn’t have “moochein” and that was more than enough for me. In the third round, we talked over the phone. He was rejected the first time. Then, thanks to some pushing by my folks, I gave him another chance. And luckily, he cleared it in the second try. In the last and final round, we met. No, I was still not flattered but I couldn’t find a reason to reject him either. And my parents were close to tears when I suggested rejecting him. So, I said yes.

And then, I began liking him. It was difficult to let go of my mental picture of what my guy should be like and to accept him for what he was, but I guess, there is something called destiny. I began to appreciate his sincerity and simplicity. I began to admire his level of patience and his ability to keep cool at all times. I started looking forward to his phone calls. And now, I am looking forward to getting hooked with him for life.

To tell you something more about him. He is the exact opposite of me. Extremely introvert. Social life= 0. Talks in monosyllables. Even on phone, his conversation is limited to three utterings; yes, no, hmm. Interested in quizzing, general reading, sports; three of which are not in my dictionary. An out and out foodie. But yes, very very affectionate. Very mature and level headed. Simple and humble. Ultra cool at all times. Extremely careful with finances (read kanjoos). I guess I can go on and on about him.

We have approved each other, now it is up to our families to do the follow up. Guys, I just pray that this clicks. It is not always that Ms. Nair approves someone. Else, there is always that flat in Hyderabad.

Happy Birthday to Me!

1. The Phenomenon called Nair celebrates her 26th birthday today!
   
   Thanks a lot to Dew Drops, who has given me the cutest gift ever-an entire blog dedicated to me. Thanks to all you lovely people, who have cared to wish me on my birthday. It felt so wonderful .Thanks to all those people who forgot to wish me. You make me feel less guilty when I forget your birthday. Thanks to mom and dad and my sister, for tolerating me all these years and assuring me that you will do it in the years to come. (Mom, dad, I can’t help it if girls of my age are having babies and I am still unmarried.)Thanks to all my friends who have been with me through the highs and lows. I couldn’t have made it without you people.
   
   On this birthday, I have made a few resolutions. And I swear I will treat them like resolutions need to be treated.
   
   1. I will marry this year, provided mom and dad find a guy who is willing to marry me. I won’t create problems from my side. But don’t ask me about babies for another two years.
   2.I will wear family-oriented clothes. I think all these husband material guys want their partners properly clothed and since I need one family man urgently, I can compromise on a few yards.
   3.I will travel by local train. (When I am surrounded by 3 black cats, one to push me in, one to help me stand on one foot, and one to push me out.)
   4.I will not commit the “same” mistake again.
   5.I will grow my hair. I’ll have kale, ghane, lambe baal and will feature in those Bajaj Sevashram ka Brahmi Amla Kesh Tel ads.J
   6.I will try to make things less complicated for myself and people around me.
   7.I will try to control my temper and learn to call a spade a rose.
   
   
   This is more than enough. It’s just my birthday; I don’t have to become Mother Teresa, do I?
   
   
   
   

Tom & Jerry

They say that when the age difference between siblings is too high, they don’t bond. Absolutely wrong. My sister is six years elder to me. And we are as close to each other as Tom & Jerry. I dedicate this blog to this special person in my life and the unique relationship we share.

She still says she was very happy when I was born, although she corrected her mistake later. We do have some black & white snaps of me as a baby sitting in her lap, as she tells me stories. We grew up to be as similar as chalk and cheese. Probably the one thing that was common to us was our residential address!

We shared a love-hate relationship. She taught me the first lessons in betrayal, when she told me that Neem leaves were sweet. I was dumb enough to put a handful into my mouth. She was much older and healthier and hence I lost out all the physical fights. But yes, I could make her cry at the drop of a hat, and I have done that quiet a few times. We were the first to report each other’s real and imaginary pranks to mom and dad. She was the only person in the house who could wake me up, when I made up my mind to oversleep on lazy Sunday mornings. The list of mutually inflicted tortures is endless…

We do have our share of sweet moments as well. When mom and dad were away, she would protect me like a lioness would protect her cubs. I remember all those cat-shaped and doll-shaped chapattis she made for me in an attempt to make me eat something. I remember enacting He-Man with her although I resent the fact that I never got to play He-Man. She would give me pictures of my latest heroes, even though the list was endless and ever-changing. She taught me to use an eye-liner. She gifted me my first lipstick. Again, the list is endless…..

And then, one fine day she got married. And a new character titled “brother-in-law” entered the savage lives of me and my sister, thereby necessitating a level of sophistication while fighting. It all happened too fast. There were so many battles to be fought, so many scores to settle. But we rarely fought after that. Because we rarely met after that. She flew off to Arab land and I pursued my higher studies. Once I started my career, it became all the more difficult to spend time with each other.

Life changed a lot. Our problems were much more serious than whose pencil it was or who took whose sticker. And we were no longer fighting with each other; we were fighting for each other. The old rivalry was replaced with a lot of affection and love. I could have willingly slaughtered anyone who hurt her. She is my pretty little angel. I did feel some pangs of insecurity and jealousy as my place in her life was taken up by others. However, she gifted me a handsome baby, my nephew and I decided to forgive her. Now, am just waiting for him to grow up so that I can report some of his mom’s childhood sins to him!

Marriage Blues :-'(

Twenty five is an alarming figure for any mallu girl’s parents, when it happens to be her age. And when twenty five approaches twenty six, all emergency lights start blinking furiously. Blood pressure, blood sugar and cholesterol levels of parents start increasing, along with the girl’s age. The selection criteria become less and less stringent. All proposals, however stupid they are, are considered. Any and every guy they meet is evaluated; even the milkman is not spared!

Such is the scenario in my home. With my birthday fast approaching, my parents are facing an ignominy comparable to being caught napping, with your moth wide open in a high profile board meeting. Several levels of filtering, according to criteria like horoscope, age, gender, qualification, job, family etc result in very few proposals reaching my department for consideration. And these turn out to be so dumb that I don’t even have to waste my time thinking about them. It’s a straight “NO”.

I refuse to settle down with guys who marry in order to save the money that would have otherwise gone to their maids. I refuse to marry guys with “complexion = white”. (This is one mystery I haven’t succeeded in deciphering. How can complexion be white? Did the guy kinda jump into a tub of white paint?). I refuse to marry guys who think their career is important, but the girl should be at home to open the door with a sweet smile when he gets back from work. (Forget the fact that she worked equally hard to get her degrees and win that lucrative job.) I definitely cannot marry a guy who thinks he doesn’t even need to meet the girl he is supposed to spend his life with, if she has been approved by his family. (Who is getting married, is it him, his dad or his mom?). The list is endless. Anyways, the bottom line is that I am not willing to marry for the sake of getting married. It’s a question of a lifetime and I will not make a compromise.

Man, isn’t this a democratic country? Has anyone died on this planet for not marrying? Does not marrying affect your respiratory or digestive system? Does it stop you from enjoying your life? Do I have to marry some xyz for the sake of acquiring that tag of “married”? I don’t think so.

Motivation & Theory Hunk !

The dictionary defines motivation as “something that motivates; an inducement or incentive”. A lot of research has gone into understanding this subject. People like Douglas McGregor, Frederick Herzberg, Abraham Maslow, Elton Mayo, Chris Argyris Rensis Likert and David Mc Clelland have put forth such wonderful ideas on motivation. (If these names don’t even look remotely familiar, then I think I know what you were doing in your Organizational Behavior lectures.)

Anyways, coming back to the subject. I would like to put forth my views on motivation at work place. I would like to put forth my findings, which are a result of significant amount of research, mostly on me. Ladies and gentlemen, let me propose Theory Hunk. It refers to the high levels of enthusiasm experienced by females of my age, when they are asked to work with a hunk. Hunk refers to any damn good looking guy, unmarried or married, preferably unmarried. The proximity of this particular factor has a significant impact on employee motivation levels and performance. The incidence of this factor creates a strong interest in whatever mundane job is to be done. It facilitates strong intellectual stimulation, resulting in multiple doubts which just have to be cleared through discussions with the hunk. It also enhances communication skills, making effective exchange of views possible. It makes the dullest of dull projects seem worth the effort. And most importantly, it makes a lazy bum like me go half way across the office to another department at 2.30pm, which is the time for a good nap after a hearty lunch.

The only good thing about this new project that I am working on is the hunk who leads the team. When I think my eyes are too droopy to view an application and legs too weak to bear the weight of my growing body across the distance, it is the thought of seeing him that drives me to my destination. I just got back from what I hoped would be an intellectual experience. Unfortunately, the hunk was on leave. The result: I slept through the session. Blame it on the totally de-motivating environment. By the way, what keeps you awake through boring office chores? A hunk? A “maal”? Or the Coffee machine? Do tell me.

The Friday Evening Itch

They should have some dandy product like itch guard to ward off that very definite feeling of discomfort that you experience post lunch on Fridays. It is something similar to that feeling you get when you are writing down the last answer of the last examination. The weekend is just about to begin and even if you don’t plan to go on a blind date with Osama Bin Laden, you do feel some level of excitement. At least, you don’t have to drag your ass to office the next day. That very thought is such a relief.

Here I am with too many things piled up for the weekend. Just waiting for the day to get over. Can you imagine the depths of my despair, when I was told that there will be a client call at 6.30pm on Friday? Because I still haven’t implemented my idea of kidnapping people and asking for ransom, I have no choice but to do it. The call begins and all I have to mouth are a few insanities like “You’ll have to talk to my boss about that”, “I really cannot comment on that”, “I am so sorry, but I really cannot commit anything right now.” Boss doesn’t waste her time on small projects and small fish like us have to bear the brunt. I spend one hour drinking Pepsi, reading blogs, chatting, yawning and yes, mouthing those insanities. Suddenly, miraculously, the line went dead. It really did. And yes, I am not gonna join the conference again. Blame it on the telephone lines. Here I go. So everybody, enjoy your weekend. And do tell me what you did. Bye.