There is music in the room. There is company in the room. There is a laptop where I can type, and there is food and wine in the next room.

And I want to blog now. It is geeky, and easy enough to type these things out than say them to the face of people you care about. So here goes. If you are reading these and feel like one or more of them applies to you, it probably does.

I want you to know that I am happy, and I want you to be happy too. I am sorry that my happiness does not include you in the core, but as a friend you will be there in the vicinity. I hope you find your someone special.

I want you, you, you and you to know that I take your advice to heart. That you are right and that is why, I will always listen to you guys n gals, even if you do always tell me what I need to hear.

I want you to know that I like how things are going, and yes, going with the flow and enjoying the moments is a great idea.

I want you to know I heard what happened to you and know that you don’t want to talk about it. But in the middle of a drunken night, if you want to talk, you can always wake me up despite the time difference. We are friends, and relationships are not going to change that.

I want you to know - meh, I really don’t care if you know or not.

I want you to know that I hate what you have become. I wish you would live up to your dreams and not disappoint yourself.

I read a lot. Online, off line.

When I used to read books, it was a two way conversation. The authors talked to me, and we were in no hurry.

Now, I read online mostly, and it is a shout out rather than a conversation.

If offline media was intimate conversations over a bottle of red wine when the light is slowly fading, online media is more like speed dating.

What are you saying?



Can I link/retweet/add to FF?



Nice meeting you - lets keep in touch via RSS.

This is the most laid back place I have ever lived. This place offers me refuge from the everyday annoyances which ate up my time in other places.

Why then, am I having the least number of conversations in this city?

By conversation, I do not mean talking and listening. I do that - I love to talk and to listen - and have been lucky enough to meet many people who indulge in that whim of mine.

By conversation, I want us to explore, in the span of few minutes or few hours, about things we have never thought of, experiences we never had, worlds which we never knew existed. I want us to debate and ask questions, to each other and to ourselves. Not all questions need to be answered though, nor we need to design a question for every answer.

I was us, not to care about the food and the drink, not get distracted by the music or the pretty sights around us. Or rather, I want us to get distracted, but only to the extent that it would lead to more conversation.

Now, the nature of such conversations have shifted. It depends on twitter”s word count, and on whether you can access Jaiku. The silences which add texture to the conversations have all but disappeared. It is an addicts desperation over the latest piece of information.

And that is why, whenever people produce an invite for casual meetings, I always take it up even if it means having to stress out a bit with the logistics of juggling different conversations. That is exactly why, I get into CIA interrogation mode with many people. I am curious. I want to know. Tell me more.

And that is the reason for me going mute and getting lost inside my head in mid conversation. I am savoring the conversation we had, feeling it, understanding it. 

So I thank you;  those of you out there, who were kind enough to sit down with me and across me and have a conversation. I thank those of you who blog and are kind enough to share your blogs and thoughts with me about your country and culture. Thank you, to those who disregard the 140 character limit of Twitter and make me feel as if we are sipping hot beverages on a cool spring evening. Thank you to those who tell me their stories, opening my eyes to perspectives and thoughts I never realized existed. I am grateful for these human interactions that jolt me a bit off my usual existence.

I live in hope, of more interesting conversations to happen.

I miss my friends.Let me put it in context.

I had a great evening, and I miss my friends.

Of course, I have been meeting new people and making some friends here in Finland. Some nice ones. Some great ones even.

But man, I still miss my friends.

I miss my speed crazy companions who think nothing of going at 120Kmph in peak traffic in Blore. I miss my bike crazy friend who took me to watch the planes land from the highway, and then took me to one of the best bars in Delhi.

I miss my friend who always picked fights with me, matching me insult for insult, scream for scream. We are better friends now that we both passed out of that petri dish called MBA school.

I miss the idiots who would oversleep and forget to pick me up from the railway station. I and miss the ones who cancel the predetermined meeting, and then pout when my plans do not turn around
his. I miss my hug buddies. I miss the cribbers with their deep sighs and ” we are all going to die in the end anyway” attitude. I miss the friends who can and will polish off my food whatever much is left (sometimes even before I am done). I miss my friends with whom I would get into impromptu wrestling matches.

I miss my friends who can match me drink for drink and take care of me once I am so drunk that I start seeing double. I miss the smokes. I miss the randy jokes that I crack with my friends. I miss being called out on my emotions by people who do not mince words. I miss being able to gossip over food and drink and then go and dance the night away like a gang of dervishes.

I miss going to movies and crying, laughing, heckling and sleeping through them with my friends. I miss going on trips with them, my head out of the car window . I miss reading Mills and Boons aloud in a group and dissolving into peals of laughter and adding exaggerated sounds effects to accompany the text.

I miss my friends who tell me to just have fun and embrace my inner Samantha. I miss my friends who can read my every emotion and casually talk me out of my moodiness. I miss my friends who give me drunk calls in the middle of the night so than we can talk about everything and nothing. I miss my friends who get scandalized of the things I do, but still, love me with their whole heart. I miss cribbing about Mallu culture and getting knowing, sympathetic nods from people who have been through similar experiences.I miss going out with them, making up plans on the fly, never knowing
where and how things are going to end.

Girls and boys, loves of my life, this one is for you.

Did I tell you how much I miss you?

Many of my friends do not read fiction. They are exclusively non-fiction readers, who read to know, to think and to understand. They take a look at my book collection and change the subject. Archie comics are not great conversation starters except with 20 something females.

But they love to hear stories. Whenever I bond with my friends, it is over a story. It could be from their lives, from mine, or the stories from the life of a friend of a friend or a story that they have seen or heard, in turn.

Meeting with old friends always turn into story telling sessions. We ask about the major characters, do not forget the minor ones and listen to the introduction of newer characters. Some stories are left unfinished - or rather, they find their endings in limbo. And together we weave our stories of what was, what is and what will be.These are relationships that keep us strong, these are the stories that make us who we are. Sometimes we walk away from those stories, disowning the other characters, but we do remember the stories, and use them for our own How-To, and more often How-Not-To maps.

Meeting new friends is different, very much so. Each story that they do tell is like a tiny step that a very vary and very injured bunny take towards you. You never know how to react, you curb the instinct to reach out and touch it,as you will scare it away. You want to help, you want to be there, but trust has to be earned, stories have to be told, and all the time you have to keep in mind that the bunny may eventually go back into the wild. And you share your stories too, wondering if there is a common thread, and then realizing that a common thread, while bonding the stories together, is not necessary in itself. Transient relationships have a peculiar beauty of their own, something that you can never find in the comforting blanket of enduring friendships.And you will never know; until many months and many years have passed as to which of the new ones will metamorph into a beautiful butterfly and fly away, and which of them will be the bold squirrels who stick around and follow when you walk through the park.

And that brings us into unfinished stories. Some relationships are left halfway through. You never know why that friend never called again or why the other one wanted to end it all. You can never understand why this one changed so completely and  why another one did not.Often, the unfinished stories are the ones you think of in completely random moments in your life, and slowly give up trying to figure out. You  stop wondering if they were butterflies whom you thought were squirrels or squirrels who eventually moved away because you did not extend a hand.

So friends of old and new, friends to be and former friends; let us sit down once in a while, and just tell stories for a few laughs, shocks and tears.

It will be fun, I promise.