alice's peephole

  There is not just one India. And what I have been privileged to experience on my recent travels, there won’t be for a long time. What is it that we do every day in cities? We wake up to an alarm, not the sun or our body clock. We rush to get dressed for work or the gym or whatever is the first appointment of the day. We spend our day in a controlled, man-made environment – air conditioning, phone screens, buildings, traffic, emails and meetings. Two weeks away from this showed me something that I never truly knew about myself. I don’t dislike travel. Everyone is so gung-ho about travel and I always found it overrated. But that might be because for the 10 years I lived in Germany, travel for me meant visiting the city centre of another European city. Cute streets, a pretty church, a peaceful river flowing by, in essence a little “same same but different”. Without a car or a driving licence, those were the only trips I managed to plan. Of everything that I saw in two weeks of...

  Just as there is light at the end of the tunnel, there is sometimes an eclipse during the brightest night. From the Beti Bachao campaign slogans painted on city walls to our female athletes outperforming the men, we talk a lot about progress in society. Yet my recent encounters with the quintessential uncles of the middle class have been teaching me that our society is still far from accepting a woman who is independent and has an opinion. My joy at finally finding a new flat that suited my needs was soon marred by the drama of the move-out process. The landlord—who not only lied that I hadn’t given enough notice but also invented multiple reasons to withhold my deposit—was a case study in arrogance. It wasn’t just the blatant greed and lying that irked me; it was the disrespectful way I was treated and spoken to. This so-called “ex-army officer” spoke over and down to me the entire time, interrupting every sentence with condescension and irritation that I dared question hi...

 The folly of youth to the wisdom of old age. Passion to practicality. Erratic speed to steady progress. Tortured love to deep bonds. Anger to acceptance. Somewhere in between lies the resilience of middle age. (I hope the early stage of middle age, but as I count the grey hairs in my mirror, I know this battle could go either way). I play pickleball with my team, try to keep up with their youth, the energy. Does it make me feel younger or just old? I can’t drink like a fish anymore, my body knows it even though my mind may forget it sometimes, especially post 4 drinks. Routines now not only excite me; they are like the best friend that my body needs to feel its mediocre best.   Back pains creep up if I skip more than 3 days of the gym. Being a woman is a cruel fight against a “ticking clock” of what society thinks I must have achieved by now. But oh, the resilience of middle age gets me through! I may not be wise yet, but I am wise enough to know that if...

Do we ever really pay attention to the safety briefing before the flight? And if we do, is it because we want to be polite to the demonstrating air staff or because we truly believe that there may be a time when we would need to recall this information and act on it, and it could save our lives? I think about this as I sit in the safety of my home, fresh after a spectacular Sunday afternoon nap, right before I sink into the pre-Monday slump. I went through my twenties not really knowing why people got so grumpy about Mondays, what a decadent privilege that was. As I watched S4 of “The Bear”, I realised that though my mother didn’t drive a car through the living room (would be tough as we live on the 10th floor), but I do share some  PTSD with Carmie. The journey of healing from the daily humiliation and berating that comes from having a narcissist, toxic boss is longer than I anticipated. In fact, I seem to have only survived because of deep, deep denial of how bad things wer...

I read that the world is changing, theatrics and chaos now trump logic. I’m told that the planets are realigning, bringing more prosperous times. I hear the winds of change at home and at work. How do we maintain our compass when everything around is moving? How do we find our North. Mediator at home and leader at work, without much credit in either role, it feels like a boat without a bottom. Tough shoes to fill, huge shadow to outshine, is it even worth the fight? No vote of confidence, campaigning without a seat, is it self worth that’s missing? A life plan in jeopardy, the wait is never ending.   And yet, there’s decks to be made, documents to be reviewed, Relationships to manage, chores to be completed. Is the busy-ness an escape, a way to fill the void? Or is it acceptance that life is not problems devoid... Is it in the moments between those milestones, Discovering a new song or great book, an evening with a friend or a call with a few, Eating t...

 I’m a lover of classic coffee. As a millennial, I cling to the quintessential South Indian filter coffee and scoff at that new fangled, pretentious, cinnamon flavoured 'Tired Bird’ dip bag coffee-like products. So, when I found this great cafe close-ish to home that does a good flat white, I quickly settled into a weekend routine, popping by there for a weekend post workout treat. It comforted me to have a favourite cafe again, after having lost Black Coffee Pharmacy in Bonn ( to the hippies ), and then Kaffeesaurus & Treibgut because I moved. The cafe has a large outdoor space, so once the oppressive heat gave way to only mild sweating and discomfort, they decided to organise a handicrafts festival in the backyard. I headed there and impulse bought some earrings and stickers, before my resolve to ‘support the arts’ gave way to grumpiness at the humidity. I found the kitchen and asked the guy manning it to make me a non-sweet, refreshing drink. It was 8 pm, so I was expecting ...

  A new friend recently said, “when people who have lived abroad say ‘here’, they mean India, but when I say it, I mean Ahmedabad vs Mumbai. In that moment it seemed like the usual random nonsense someone high on Diwali vacation vibes + weed might say. But as I think more closely, there is a grain of wisdom hiding behind the benignity. Our outlook is defined by the exposure we have gotten, either gathered through travel, movies, discussions, upbringing or simply by living among people whose world view is different from our own. When I decided to move back, I was prepared for the physical differences of living in India vs Europe, I knew it would be hot, crowded and loud, people would be unpunctual, and that would get on my nerves. I think I was partially unprepared for how difficult it would be fit in emotionally . Before I left, I did often feel like a misfit or a rebel, sometimes being Bengali in a pretty Marathi city, but largely due to my experiences at a rigid and unwelcomin...

  "Oh, my life is changing everyday In every possible way And oh, my dreams It's never quite as it seems Never quite as it seems” Dreams – The Cranberries I say this because I didn’t quite expect to be grubbing around in 40 degrees heat, in the Nashabandhi office, when I decided to move back to India to work on the Olympics bid. Let me start at the beginning, or at least the middle. Gujarat decided for various reasons, to be a dry state. Now, prohibition has never proved effective, but the Government, striding atop its high Gandhian horse, is undeterred. Thankfully, as a Foreign Passport Holder, I am not expected to give up my sinful ways. However, I am still answerable to the Government in the amount of alcohol I consume. As a non-desi, devoid of the burdens of cultural heritage, I am allotted the highest quota, i.e. 4 units of alcohol a month. Mind you, this amounts to 50+ bottles of beer or 4 bottles of hard liquor, so it is quite enough for even most high function...

Of course, I knew there would be moments of reverse culture shocks. I tried to imagine what they would be, and prepare myself for them. I reminded myself of the loudness of Indian cities, with unabating construction noise, neighbours quarrelling or partying and traffic sounds. I laughed along when my German-y friends pointed out how poorly I would deal with the summer, seeing as I complained the loudest in the stifling German heat. I prepared myself for the lack of work life balance. But as I sit here writing this, with the Cricket World Cup Finals from the society’s public viewing blaring through the windows, I have to honestly admit that nothing could have prepared me for the actual shocks when they came. The first one was a few weeks after moving into my new apartment. I decided to check out the nearby gym, and cramped as it was, it would have to do. As I lay sweating and stretching on a yoga mat post workout, I became suddenly aware, from the corner of my eye, of a gang of 5-6 ...

When I was a little kid, I used to drop a coin to the bottom of the swimming pool, then dive down 10ft to retrieve it. It was exhilarating, it was so quiet, and it was just me against the water. It scared my mum though, and she made it promise not to do it anymore. And I never have, until earlier this year   when I decided to make the plunge and uproot my entire life, again, and move back to India. It was a move I’d been contemplating for a while, but it’s a scary one. India has changed in 9 years; my friends have moved away and everything runs on Paytm. Moving is always stressful, and this one just checked all the boxes. Administrative delays? Check. Uncertainty and insecurities? Done. Nasty landlord to deal with? We gotcha. I did have a few great friends who made everything better. I spent the last months before moving back home just recovering from what I can now see was extreme burnout. Turns out, trying to work part time to pay bills while starting 2 businesses in the middle...

The easiest way to describe what’s underneath the calm watery surface of this dam is to list all the little rivulets of emotions flowing in from various directions. At the very top of the emotional pyramid, is complete peace and contentment. I have everything I need to be comfortable right now, the most important being time and energy. Many of my days consist primarily of working out, napping, cooking, seeing friends and reading. I can feel my burn out healing, I will soon be ready to tackle this next chapter, which is sure to be challenging. While there is a small part of me that is impatient, nay, eager to start, I am enjoying every moment of this hiatus. Below the surface though, saying goodbyes is heart-wrenching and every new memory created comes with a tinge of longing and nostalgia. Whether it is seeing off my closest friend at the train station, or playing with my friends’ babies, each simple act now comes with so many emotions. It’s the river of “the lasts”. Over the pas...

  In March 2023 I had the privilege to make a decision to change my life. After job hunting for months, I landed 2 vastly different roles in 2 different countries. I coincidentally, seemingly fatefully, received the job offers on the same day. It was a decision I wasn’t about to take lightly, and even though I knew in my gut what I wanted, it took some negotiating, researching and convincing to make it. In 2014, when I boarded a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, I had more faith in humanity and optimism bordering on naivete. I was younger and more foolish than I am now. I was hungry to learn and grow professionally. In 2023, I turn back a little wiser, a little more beaten by life, still hungry to learn and grow. Someone asked me why I decided to leave after having fought so hard to be here. “Because I don’t want to fight so hard anymore”, I answered instantly, the words coming from somewhere deep in my soul before my mind had a chance to think about it. Being a foreigner and woman ...

  This is the last one, and then I’ll stop. I’m not really addicted, its just good for me right now. Its what I need right now. I can stop whenever I want. One more event, that’s what we tell ourselves. Always the last event, before settling down into a respectable, predictable life. At my very first job at the CWG Delhi 2010, I envied my Greek boss. He was in Delhi for 3-4 years, to make sure that the contingency relations and services department was running according to industry standard. I thought of his wife and 2 kids, and imagined it must be exciting to live in a new city like Delhi, and move to a new place every 4 years, to have a truly international upbringing. To be honest, I still do. I envy the travelling circus. But as a 33-year-old woman, I hesitate to jump headlong into a life of semi-permanency. I ask myself whether I really have what it takes. I question whether my relationships will withstand the periodic disappearances that coincide with every operations m...

  It’s been about 2 months since I tried this again. My first tryst went down quite poorly, with a therapist and therapy method (very classical Freud) that made me feel suffocated and annoyed. I quit after a few sessions and didn’t try again for another year. The second time I went in with more preparation. I looked into the kind of methods available and decided to try out two therapists before settling on 1. So far its been… interesting. One of the reservations I had about this process was that there is danger of creating a dependence, which is something I want to avoid. But the healthcare system here makes that a bit easier to avoid. A therapist has lots of clients in waiting, and will be paid for sessions by the health insurance. So the motivation to manipulate you to make you a lifelong client for a good therapist is lower. The second issue is a continuation of the first. Life is full of struggle and we do have to learn to deal with it, and equip ourselves with the tools fo...