My meaning of the word ‘cult’ refers to small break-out cultures that have a following. I wonder how cults started? Did someone get pushed around too much? Did existing cultures try to just snuff out the individuality from one person? Was he the only one who could see the other light? And once he saw it, he could convince others to do so too? Most cults were started with noble causes…it is the following, the followers and what the feeling of being followed does to a brother that corrupts it. While most cults signal ‘don’t come too close’, is there a cult for everyone who wants to break free? Or are we just a society full of people trying to break free? Is everyone feeling this way but not talking about it? Is it manifest in the many status updates that are about #hateboss #mykidsdrivemecrazy and #mywifeischeating? What if everyone is struggling to burst out of the culture that like the womb keeps us inside a semi transparent sac so thick that we cannot break out of it till the right time? Is the culture protecting us? Sometimes when I see a stoned teenager, I know that my Indian crab background has kept me from doing foolish things. But it has also kept me from doing some awesome things.

But let me tell you about the time I broke out of the sac. And it is not that I am dreaming or I just made the inside of the sac feel like the outside with wishful thinking. No, I chose to break out and risk it. That kind of risk can only come with great belief and faith. And those two things I have in plenty. A belief that I was meant to be on the outside, a faith that I will not be left stranded without protection. But the support is no longer there. What is funny is how I can see those inside and no amount of logic can get them to come out. The sac has a door and it opens inwards…but everyone is pushing against it, so there is no way it gets swung inside.

The world outside is beautiful, free of judgement, free of unnecessary emotions, free of futile pettiness and most of all, free. It comes with a price…it gets lonely, because anyone who comes out doesn;t want to create another sac that soon. But give it time and there will be another one just like the one we escaped. As strong as the need to belong is, the need to not feels stronger here. One needs to belong only to one class: human kind. And most of us do not even do that: we fight like animals, do everything to meet our most basic food needs, we eat other living loving things, we engage in predator mind games, and we get our kicks from stealing things that are not ours.

I think if we all belonged to the human cult, that would be nice for a change. Yes, it feels good to be part of a church, it is amazing to have your frat brothers and sorority sisters at your wedding, the free Mason meetings are a blast and Indian food at an Indian wedding feels like a part of heaven. But why can we not think of life as a long long distance train that goes in a squiggly circular pattern? The stations repeat at times, but it is only for some time. Why settle in one place and think you found your heaven even before you start exploring? Enjoy the little pieces of belonging, but don’t belong to the pieces. There is no room on this planet for more nations to be formed. It is time to mingle, cross breed, mix and match and break that wish bone in two.

Aladdin has freed the genie and the genie doesn’t even know it. That is sad.

Well, I was going to name my blog ‘From Matunga to Manhattan’, but we never lived there, so it would be kinda misleading. But if you are reading my blog, you absolutely need to know some stuff.
The facts:
I live in LA, which is in California. So I DO live in California. If you don’t know the states and cities, don’t sweat it. We didn’t grow up here.
There are very few Indians here. This fact is always refuted by families living in Artesia and Culver City. But LA is not like New York of SF where you could bump in to your countrymen regularly. Here it happens once a year.
We don’t particularly love it here, but are trying not to be spoil sports.
My beliefs:
I am a green nut. So if I get you a gift that is packaged in newsprint, just thank me for keeping the earth clean and don’t roll your eyes.
If you come to my house, do not expect me to stack you with tissues and napkins, in the hope that you might need them. If you want one, ask for it. Or else use the clean kitchen towels.
If you come to my house and leave the lights on in the restroom or other rooms that you wandered into (ok, who am I kidding, we have only 2 rooms), I am going to form a opinion about you, and you don’t wanna know it. So practically any waste of any kind is frowned upon, but you will never know it.
I travel by train and bus because I hate the idea of polluting the air for my daily needs like grocery and library. But yes, we will take road trips because flying is even worse. And before we become secluded hermits, we shall buy a hybrid.
It kills me to walk slowly or wait for the elevator.
I believe totally and wholly in the concept of faith. I am 0% religious and 100% spiritual. If I have to choose a religion, it would be Rahmanism.
I have been praying to get fat from the age of 20. I finally achieved it 2 years ago and I am unable to complain.
I want to establish an educational scholarship with the money I make from my work. So for all practical purposes we are a single earner family.
I am a conservationist and it goes beyond water, food and energy.

I talk my mind. If I am silent, it is because of respect…because I always have something to say.
I love to talk about myself because I find it so exhilarating that I know so much about some topic.
I hate talking bad about people over a certain age.
I think all moms are great cooks and cooking is a hormone you produce after child birth if you didn’t already have it.
I think kids are good fun and one cannot expect the fun to last.
I am an adventure ride warrior. Love them and cannot get enough.
I have been blogging since 2004 and I hope, I won’t be needed to explain a lot of that stuff to the jury.
I think I am just like others.
Now, for the part where no one else thinks I am like them:
I denounce smoking, pot, gambling, races…basically anything that you consider fun would be a no-no.
I don’t wear leather, but I have a purse my room mate bought me and I will always have it.
I don’t wear silk, but my parents asked me to wear it for my marriage and promised not to bring it up again.
I don’t eat meat, but I am not vegan..well, not yet anyways.
I don’t like fireworks for the air pollution part, but if I think the world is going to sink anyways, bring it on.
I like flowers only when they are not plucked out.
I don’t like wooden furniture, I would rather have kick-me-on-my-shin-stub-my-toe wrought iron around the house.

And…I think I have carpel tunnel.

I notice it for the first time here. I am standing between the travel and biography aisles of the library and trying hard to concentrate. But the more I try, the better I notice the carpet pattern. My mind is not switching on at its usual speed. I had picked up a Frommer’s guide to Washington DC as we are going there next week and I turned to see a auto biography of Bill Clinton. The Frommer’s guide in my hand had a picture of Abraham Lincoln’s statue. The heuristics buzzed without a second’s delay. The connection was made. Both ex presidents. And then I remembered how I used to get Clinton’s name confused with the Microsoft guy…

That was when the alarms went of. The Microsoft guy? Why am I calling him that! Of course, I know his name. Heck, I spent half my college life maligning it. But it doesn’t offer itself to me.

I try. I keep saying Microsoft and Bill to myself over and over again hoping it will stumble out of my sub conscious because it is no longer a part of my conscious memory. I look around. No free computers to go and search for Microsoft + wikipedia. I’ll get the name in an instant. As I search my brains and say Bill…Bill…all I can remember is that some chip designer melded the words ‘Bill Sux’ on to the microchips in very minute lettering. Is his name Bill Sux? Bill .. Something small. Something very generic. Bill Sux…Bill Gates. (the buzzing stops) Yes, that is it. 9 minutes and a blog post later, I remember. Wow, either Bill Gates is totally out of the public eye or I am showing signs of amnesia. And I can prove that I contracted it from my pet who has conveniently forgotten that she ate health food till last week.

On a more serious note, everyone please get tested for Alzheimer’s. It is going around and we aren’t getting any younger.

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Ok, so ever since I installed Linux, I have had to go back to Windows to use Windows Live Writer for blogging. Not these blogs but my official ones. It was a perfect piece of software built on an imperfect platform and obviously they weren’t making a Linux version of the same. It ran seamlessly, connecting me to all my 7 blogs and it felt real, it was what the term WYSIWYG was coined for. The background of the blog, the tags used, the passwords, it remembered everything. I was sure it was a means to taking over the world – get everyone addicted to Live Writer. But anyone who has tried Linux will tell you: switching back to windows is really bad for blogging morale. So I sought an alternative on Linux that will kick Live Writer’s ass. But sadly, no ass kicking ensued for very long. I have tried the following, all with the same results (Sucks, sucks bad, does not even load, not compatible with Ubuntu)
w.bloggar (I cried when this happened)
BlogJet
BlogDesk
Thingamablog
BlogTK
ScribeFire (Oh, the suckiness)
Zoundry
Gnome (what were they thinking)
and many more that have slipped my memory.

For some of the above, I installed Wine so that windows programs can work on Ubuntu. I was willing to have the devil’s OS tippy toe on my godly OS just so that I could have a decent blogging experience. This is how we end up in hell.

Every post on every forum written on this topic had the same disappointing theme. No one had found an alternative. And Linux communities are more close knit than the Veerappan posse. So I tried thinking back. When I didn’t have Writer, what did I do? And I remembered, I used Flock. It is a browser that is perfect for social networking and also has a blog editor plugged in. And then I went through another low. What if they didn’t build Flock for Linux? So with my nails bitten and fingers crossed, I searched for it and low and behold! It was there. It downloaded and now I am writing a post on it. Damn, my slow memory! But the lesson to be learnt: Sometimes old habits need to be resumed. Not everything new is great. If we can cut through the cloud, we can see clearly what plagues or eludes us. And lastly, Windows can bite me.

It is that time of life when the muscles you exercise most start showing, isn’t it? The years of unhealthy food catch up with you and centre themselves in the middle of your torso all because you have a computer/desk job. I am sure that not too far from now we will have computers that can be activated by an ab-press or stomach crunch. But till then this is the way it is going to be. We will reach a certain age and start looking like what we dreaded when the nice caricature artist asked us politely if he could draw us. Of course we said ‘No!’. But the mirror, my friends, lies seldom. So the only alternative is to suck it up and pull ourselves together.

Now back to me! Whow! That was a long break. Now when it comes to staying fit, I have had an advantae for 25 long years. I was one of the Gilmore Girls. I could try, but I would remain thin, energetic and buzzed. I wouldn’t drink anything unless it had ice cream as the main ingredient; I wouldn’t touch a pastry if there wasn’t wipped cream on it and I would find myself incapable of appreciating anything low-fat. Then quarter life crisis hit. The thin flew out of the window first, soon to be followed by energetic and abuzz. I was so jazzed for a while about not being a scare crow that I forgot that I had to start maintaining my health. It was no longer a given.

So after a lot of consideration and rude looks on Hollywood Boulevard, I finally said, ‘It is time to get fit.’ Now, most pople need just a little exercise to keep fit. If we start before we hit 30, there is still hope for us. I am not talking about being thin. Been there, don’t that. Never want to go back to skinny land again. Nothing fits and everyone tries to feed you. I am talking about not clutching your heart after climbing 4 floors.

So with this blog as witness, I call upon you fellow readers to embark on the fitness mission. Some of you may already be on that road…I’ll catch up. But for those who think they still got time, you don’t. Don’t wait another day.

You don’t have to get a physical trainer, join a spinning class or enrol yourself in a marathon. Try what I do: Gym thrice a week, a splash of Yoga, a hint of swimming and a nice cardio-risk-it-all hike on weekends. Yup, I do all of that. Most of the time that is. Hey, I am quite sincere about this. Its not like I am writing this post while doing cardio…ok, I totally am. But, see I am exercising my fingers and my heart at the same time

Play this while you read. If you are hearing it in office with headsets…careful, involuntary movement of bodily parts may occur.

Maybe it is the time in history..what with  it being 40 years after the Woodstock festival that I am getting in the mood for real American music. Maybe it started with a visit to the Grammy museum.They just had the most amazing collection of genres and everything sounded so beautiful. Also being there, American music became a real living breathing thing.

Now unlike most people, I never really did try to listen to foreign music. My carnatic music teacher was very clear that she didn’t want us spoiling our vocals screaming songs. My friends in colleges tried to make me listen to what they thought was great music: Bryan Adams, BonJovi, MLTR. Then in MDI, my room mate introduced me to more metal and hard rock. I would obediently listen to what everyone else listened to because I had no sense of it. And I really thought all American music was pop or loud.

Now unless you were daft like me, you would have heard some stuff growing up. I always loved Hotel California (I was in a hostel, one has to hear it a million and one times there), but after coming to California, it feels more real. There is something about the songs that mention California…they all have the same nostalgic feel to it. And then I thought: When I leave LA and I hear these songs, I will break down because after all, I am a mushy past dweller.

Songs have always had a weird power over me. I don’t like too many songs. Radio stations drive me crazy because they mostly play stuff I hate. But the ones I love, I get obsessed with. So I listen to it 700 times and then I want to puke. One can say, I o/d on songs. So I need to find new ones that keep me sane. Once every 2 months, I find a new one.

I have tried to connect to many people through songs, but somehow no one likes the kind of music I do. Its like a fingerprint. No two playlists are alike. But I know that if I try hard enough, I will find more songs I would like. Please tell me which songs I should listen to. Your obsessions, the songs that make you crazy. I am waiting with my Ipod.

Right from the time I first told someone my name, I realized that my grand mother had chosen a rather unique and cool name for me. South Indian enough to get approval from elders, short enough for North Indians to pronounce and different enough to be the only one in the batch of every class. I thought getting user names would be easy.

I was not surprised when ‘lavanya’ was already taken on hotmail.com. I was a little miffed that ‘aynaval’ was taken on yahoo. Were all combinations of lavanya already taken? At that time, I didn’t consider USA and Europe and other countries where internet had been around before it hit India. I was probably the last one to join the gmail bandwagon…but aynaval wasn’t taken. That pleased me. I was back to thinking I had this unique name.

I mean who would have Lavanya Panchapakesan as their name. The spelling of my surname was unusual and the two hadn’t been paired together. Or so I thought. When I had to change my name after marriage (Well I didn’t do it till I had to come to the US and boy am I glad I did. Deepak is easier to pronounce thanks to Deepak Chopra. And I am called Deepak everywhere, not Lavanya.), I thought that would be the end of my unique name. What’s the bad news about having a common name? Not surfacing on social networks as the first search result. It took me 15 minutes to find myself on Orkut yesterday. That’s when I saw her profile. Her’s was spelled exactly as mine. No wonder I thought there was no one like me. She wasn’t old enough to join Orkut till now. So big deal, there is someone else with my name! The spooky stuff was how much we are alike.

She likes:

• Surya (Tamil actor)
• Hannah Montana
• Sayings from the movie Om Shanti Om
• A R Rahman
• Harry Potter
• Curd Rice
• Mozhi (Tamil movie)
• MBA
• Vaaranam Aayiram (Another Tamil movie)
• Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na

She hates:

• People spamming her for friendship requests on Orkut

See, we are like the same person with the same name. She is a younger me living in Chennai. Doppleganger anyone? But hey, thsi aint the first time this has happened. Many acquaintences have spotted a similar looking Lavanya in Chembur, CHeddanagar and Ghatkopar. They say there are 7 people like you in the world. But, why do all of them have to have my name?

Yahoo and Microsoft are going to take on Google. Ha! Big guys fighting other big guys. All for fickle consumers (cannot even say customers without my marketing-educated tongue having a whip lash). These “free” consumers who like hapless damsels in distress look on with their wide eyes as the hero beats up the villain. But she is going home with whoever wins the fight. Do these software companies really think Google plays on the same ego turf as they do? And Yahoo and MS have entered a 10 year deal in which the first effects will be seen after 2 years. Ha! Who says Google will be the hero then? There could be another player, even though everyone: Google and its competitors are praying it ain’t so. Now that Yahoo and MS have had enough time to observe, they can formulate a plan. But Google is not a hantavirus that took people by surprise. It is an organic form of mutant stem cells. It is not going to stick to the forecast.

Now, as much as I don’t want to change my browser, my search engine, my operating system, my maps application or all the free stuff that I have beefed  up my laptop with; I don’t think I will shy away from a really good product. Well here I am, a walking talking promoter of [a Linux OS] Ubuntu (Canonical, you owe me!), but as I wait for [a Firefox app] SeaMonkey HTML Editor to download, I can’t wait to write my blog post on [an MS product] Windows Live Writer. I may love Ubuntu, want to get a room with Firefox and vouch by GIMP…but I still secretly want to see the one application of MS that doesn’t suck.

So I think instead of playing ego games and hoping that the next generation is theirs, the big guys should just concentrate on getting us better products. It will definitely sell (ouch! whiplash.) I meant, it will definitely get downloaded. Word of mouth will save you, not great brand names. It isn’t the 1990s anymore. The monarchy was upturned and we are not going to let someone else (even if it may be Google) do that to us again.

Until then,

DID

This post has been inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn, Midnight Sun and Bones.

In a world gone crazy with blood suckers and man eaters, here is a gist of all things vampire.

• Every generation gets their own vampire.
• There was some Dracula guy, then Angel. Now Edward Cullen.
• When you are around 20 years old: that is probably the only time the whole shindig would not look silly.
• My friend wanted me to believe that his girlfriend looked like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Maybe he wanted to feel like Angel. Enter David Boreanaz. Wow, I can hear women everywhere swooning.
• If I even mention Edward Cullen or Robert Pattinson, I think I’ll get mobbed by the younger lot.
• Women love vampires.
• The blood sucking creatures of the night supposed to be romantic in some way. Even if they did kill people. Boy, these women are not the ones to complain.
• They are unbelievably OLD. Never knew older men were such a turn-on.
• There is always a young woman…new to town, very good by nature and different from the others. Also, she is in love with the vampire of the year.
• Forbidden love – is there anything more poignant? Yes. Scores of women falling for these characters.
• Buffy, the vampire slayer has no choice in men: it is either bad make up Angel or pathetic evil loser Xander.
• In more modern times, Bella Swan has a choice: she could have just left the whole vampire posse and gone for the werewolf.
• Where there are vampires, there will be werewolves.
• They aren’t pretty either, but at the least they are human at times. (Side note: And Jacob is NOT strictly a werewolf, he is a shape shifter. If his ancestor had shifted into an elf, then he would be an elf.)
• In the 1990s, these creatures were made to look vicious. Now they are just adorable.
• When you revisit the vampires from your youth, you are bound to gag.
• Advice to everyone: There is a reason they don’t make vampire flicks every 5 years. It is made for the kids who are between 16 and 20. So don’t watch it if you are not the target audience. Unintended viewing could lead to nausea, apnea, insomnia, heartburn, bad haircuts, mood swings and intolerance for humans.

It is over. Officially, my time here in LA as a tourist/visitor is over.
I have moved on to a bigger role as in a resident. No, my visa status
has not changed, nor are we going to be here indefinitely. Its the time.
18 months is a good amount of time to adjust to a new place. I have
finally adjusted, stopped fighting and given in to the “charm” that is
USA. Ok, I wont use the double quotes. Because that is what I have
changed in to. A liker; not a hater. I have hated for long enough. The
struggle has ended. I have tried for the past 3 months to end the
struggle with little success. Going to India obviously did not help
matters. But I was trying too hard to accept USA. And then when I
stopped trying, acceptance came to me like a wave of relief that wiped
off the nauseous home sickness.

I haven’t even worn some of the clothes purchased in India. That, coming
from a woman, is saying that it hasn’t been very long. So, to say I am
not home sick would be safe at this moment. But does that mean I don’t
get mentally transported to the Welingkar campus when I am with my
client or I don’t get a maddening urge to fly to Gurgaon to have MDI’s
bread pakodas on Monday mornings or that I feel bound and helpless when
I see my niece on Skype and want to reach out to touch her? No, those I
do. But these attacks come less frequently. So, the heart learns to beat
through the blimps.

With no idea of how the future will unfold, this outlook feels healthy.
I have come to think of India as an old friend who got upset about
something I said and won’t return my calls or come to meet me. I try to
get back in touch through friends and family, but even though I know
what she is up to, I am not there with her when those things happen. I
miss her. But how do I tell her that? So it is best to let things lie
and keep the pieces of the broken heart intact in the hope that some
day, in a college reunion, the damn thing will get mended.

But I am ok, I’m ok, I am alright! What can I say? US is growing on me.
Yeesh! The other side of me – the goth rebel with the spiked hairdo and
pierced lip just threw up on me. Guess, I will have to let her go now.