The L-word is back in their vocabulary!

A very pleasant surprise. Two of my dear friends who decidedly choose to shy away from the L word declared being hit by the bug. Usually skepticism, cynicism, pessimism, sadism (?), rationalism plagues their many relationships. It delighted me to hear their blushing, gushing, amused, exasperated, abashed, effusive accounts of the thumpity-thump in their hearts.

Of Walmart and country bumpkins!

The Walmartization of America is a hotly debated issue in American urban planning circles. It has been cited as one of the biggest reasons for the death of mom n pop stores , stunting local economic development and small businesses and ofcourse leading to ugly suburban sprawl and big box development. Opponents have also been very critical of the wage structure in Walmart’s stores.

However, this Friday nite, unwinding with a couple of my friends from School at the neighborhood cafe, I heard quite a hilarious version of the impact of Walmart in some parts of  the country, particularly in the rural areas.

Suave Chicago Dude who recently visited rural Georgia down South to pay his cousins a visit got the shock of his life apparently. He wanted to hang out with his cousins and asked them where they could go. The unanimous answer was a movie multiplex some miles from the small town where they lived. Once the movie got over, Suave Chicago Dude still wanted to party way into the night. He was then driven to (hold your breath) : the nearest Walmart!!! The reason being it was open 24×7 and was well lit and was well, the place where the kids hung out!!! Imagine his shock when he discovered almost the entire town gathered there, having a good time. Suave Chicago Dude caught the next plane back to the bright city lights of Chicago! (Well almost the next flight)!!!

Sweet Chicago dudette on the other hand was once dragged to the most happening event in a small town off Chicago. Her roomies had been raving about it all month. How it was the coolest place to hang out. How you could grab a pizza there. How there were “cool” rides in the store. And of course, there was even a cart chasing, mad shoppin competition that some of the locals engaged in once in a while!!!! When sweet Chicago dudette arrived, she was quite appaled to see that this most happening place was none other than a brand new Walmart!!! Her only reaction was, ” Is THIS it??”

On an interesting note however, John Tierney, in the NY Times, October 17th, supports the nomination of Walmart as the organization doing the most to fight poverty and that it should win the Nobel as opposed to the one-step-at-a time bottom up approach to poverty alleviation of the Grameen Bank that recently won the Nobel.  He quotes Michael Strong, the head of FLOW, a non profit promoting entrepreneurship in third world countries whose passionate slogan is none other than:” Act locally, Think globally, Shop Wal Mart”!!!!

 And the debate becomes weirder and weirder… I never quite had a head for economics!!! Sigh!

I hate shopping!

Guys, you dont believe a girl could say that, could you?

But I really really really do.

Yesterday I dragged my really lazy self down to the Filene’s Basement at the Manificent Mile, Chicago. I had to buy formals for my upcoming conference. My wardrobe of worn out jeans, plunging necklines and t-shirts would’nt just do, would it?

But I picked a very bad day. It was Saturday and I think the entire Chicagoland area was at Michigan Avenue – shopping, gawking, shopping. No haggling though, unlike in India. Everyone was very minutely checking out the “Clearance” section and the “Bargain” counter.

I braced myself  while entering the super crowded shop and got whacked on the face by hurrying shoppers loaded with shopping bags.  Trying to locate the petite section was quite a task as I almost got tangled in someone’s cart full of rather colorful winter scarves. When I finally manged to reach the section, weaving through racks of overladen overpriced clothes, I noticed I had suddenly sprouted a TAIL!!!! There were atleast two or three colourful scarves trailing behind me, caught on the zipper of my handbag!!!! Woe me!!!

Untangling myself I spotted the route to the petite section and made it safely over there. Breathing a sigh of relief I concentrated on the task ahead. The array of white blouses was just mind blogging and my mind was working furiously: “too staid? too formal? too white? too jazzy? too low cut?”

Then when I finally settled on the design and color, I searched for my size: a medium, or thats what I thought I was. And the most irritating thing happened. The shop did NOT have that particuar design of the shirt in that particular size. I was stupefied. Stymied. “Would you like to try a brown or burgundy of the same design in Medium?” , they asked. I was ready to burst into tears. But it looked as if my ordeal wasnt over as yet.

Next came choosing the bottoms. And this is where I swear I was ready to start sobbing right in the middle of that crowded store. Although the waist sizes would fit, there was NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING that would safely fit my rather short dimunitive five foot frame. So frustrating I tell you.  On top of that, different brands/designers had different size measurements, so you couldnt be sure if the 4 for a pair of GAP jeans meant a size 6 in POLO or a size 8 in CK or a 10 in DKNY.

Armed with atleast 6 pairs in every permutation combination I could safely think of as fitting me I made my way across to the fitting room. I stood in line for 15 minutes. When I finally got to the changing room, I almost collapsed under the weight of the trousers and jeans! Paintstakingly, I began to peel off the warm layer of clothing, it being unimaginably hot in the changing room, and me having been dressed up like an eskimo to beat the mean chilly winds of downtown Chicago.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5……6??? And still no bloody luck. Too tight, or way too loose. Too clingy or too baggy. Without exception, all of them overflowed…meaning they were too tall for me lenghtwise. By which point, I was silently cursing, feeling extremly crabby and irritable and hungry. I told the shop girl about my  errrrm “problem”. She asked me to wait, and then brought in some more pairs of bottoms except this time they looked smaller. I tried them on tentatively, suspiciously and resigned to the fate of not getting the pants at all. Lengthwise fine, but the wouldnt fit me around the waist. Frustration and almost anger bubbling up to the surface this time. Who were these jeans made for? Wafer thin women who probably don’t menstruate? I was hyperventilating and thinking: “I need to go to the gym. I need to lose that unhealthy fat around my waist. I need to….”

Till I realized that these were pairs the shop girl had selected fom the Juniors section!!! I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Believe it or not, I finally did get a decent enough pair of trousers in the petite section and have made up my mind to buy just that particular designer and brand henceforth. I am NOT willing to put up with this torture and hassle of trying them on first. Spare me.

When I stepped out of the cubcle , with a faint smile and beatific relieved expression on my face after the mental battle with the bulge and the physical one with the bottoms, I was delivered an unexpected blow. My shopping cart laden with my own bulky jacket and the odds and ends and the shirt I had finally chosen was nowhere to be found. I had left it at the counter since you couldnt carry in stuff over a certain number. Pandemonium breaks out as the over worked staff start a harried search for the cart and I feel myself choking in the unshed tears. “We will get it sweetie,” says a mother hen kind of shop girl trying her best to comfort a mortified me. I am not so convinced however and am panicking at the thought of having lost my winter jacket for good amidst the mess. “Oh why did I leave it there? why did I take it off? Blah blah”

Suddenly a young scared overenthusiastic shop girl comes running and starts blabbering an apology and handing me my stuff. I didnt even care what she was saying because I was simply overjoyed to have my winter jacket back. “We are so overworked this season. I am sorry, really sorry”…the young girl kept going. It seems as if the overefficient girl had thought that those were discarded items in the shopping cart and had to be put back in the racks. Thankfully she had realized they were not when she had reached the bottom of the pile to find my rather worn jacket.

Then on, I spent another good half an hour in the “intimates” section. I wasn’t gawking, I wasn’t loitering. This time it was my Indian Rupee converter working in my brain and chiding me every step of the way:
“A thousand rupees for that scrap of cloth???? Can you afford to be so wasteful? You are such a consumer whore!” I shoud have just left half an hour ago.

I did leave finally after spending 15 minutes waiting in queue at the check out counter.

Phew! Did I say this before?

That I really really really do HATE shopping!

Selfish Loves (Part 1)

She: I am sorry. But I have waited long enough.

He: I am sorry too I can’t give you more.

She: You know your problem? You can’t ever love anyone else other than yourself.

He: Maybe. But you are too giving…its claustrophobic.

She: What do you know about giving?

He: Enough to end this here.

Midnight desires!

I was burning the midnight oil. Trying desperately to finish off a conference paper.

Then temptation swallowed me whole. I wet my dry lips and almost tasted the salt.

My stomach did the wierdest flip flops. Cursed. Swore. Stared longingly.

Should I?  No! I would feel miserable in the morning. Curb your desire woman!

But the hunger was too strong after months of abstinence.

I gave in to the wickedest temptation of all.

Ahh! Jays!!! Big J! Licking my lips!

“Cant stop eating em”- My big bag of Potato chips!!!!

 What were you thinking, dirty minds??????

Homeless citizen: An oxymoron?

At the desrted El station:

A man of undeterminate age, reeking of alcohol and unwashed closthes comes up to me and says:

“Missy, help me out. I am homeless”.

I take two steps back, looking up and down the station nervously.

Then he moves closer to the light and points to an ugly scar across his cheek with dirty nails:

“I am a bad man Missy. But I paid for it too. I was locked up. 

No one will give me a job because of this. Can you spare some change?” 

In case you were wondering: He was African American.

I look desperately into the tunnel wishing the train would hurry up and see the lights approach in the distant darkness.

I mumble and try a broken smile: “Sorry. But I am a poor student. I dont carry cash.”

And feel perfectly idiotic and relieved and nauseous at the same time as he shuffles away, mumbling.

“A citizen cannot be homeless” – a comment made by a confident young man in a slum in Kolkata in an interview with urban scholar Ananya Roy (City Requiem, Calcutta)

But the sad fact is: The homeless are not citizens, not even, or maybe especially in America.

Strangers in the night!

A slight chill in the air.

Midnight hour. Not a soul on the road.

Dry twigs going “Craccckkkk”.

Cobwebs brushing across my face.

Me walking faster, humming a childhood song.

Then I see her: Tall , willowy, her hair windblown, but tantalizing. Bewitching. 

And fall in love.  Under the Halloween moonlit sky.

With my shadow.

Heard on the Radio

The Mix 101.9 FM radio in Chicago is playing remixes from the 90′s.

They advertised it as the decade that produced a President who said in public:

” I did not have sexual relations with that woman”

and another President who said;

“Will you just shut up and listen to ME?”

Hahaha! Priceless!!!!

Shedding my locks!

After three rescheduled appointments, I finally made it to the salon.

“No mercy”, I told the stylist, and closed my eyes.

Half an hour later and thirty dollars poorer I stared at the shredded locks. Beau-ti-ful!

That’s when the icy blast of wind decided to turn my hair back into a bird’s nest

I laughed!!!!

Star Tricks

The Today’s Fortune On Orkut:

You are going to have a very comfortable old age.

!!!!!! Could’nt stop laughing.