Suitcase Full of Memories

It was Cyndi Lauper who first said this in her song "Time after Time". So today as I am sitting in office trying to concentrate on new concepts for the jazz festival, I find myself going back to way back when. Back to those moments in life that were defining, at times life altering, at times forgettable and at times funny. If you're someone like me, who has attended at least 15 different educational institutions in her 20 years of education, who has lived in 2 of the 7 continents, who has a best friend in different parts of the world, and who prides her self as being an global citizen, then to have a suitcase full of memories is an understatement, but still. It sounds good doesn't it? So hop into my virtual time machine as I take you Back to the future and countdown my best memories that helped make me who I am. This ought to be good.

Warning: Explicit content follows. Do not get offended by any of the incidents. They didn't happen to you, they happened to me. You are free to do some background research and check the accuracy.

PS- Just for your reference I was born in1985. Will help paint the entire picture more clearly.


Anything before 1989 is a blur. Excuse me if I cannot remember. I am only human. Plus I don't think you want me to mention the detail of being a tiny tot. Peeing in my diaper. Eating poop and anything else I could get my hands on. Being a big tub of blubber. Making unidentifiable noises and talking utter gibberish. You get the point. Don't act like you didn't do the same. Now on to the memories. Pre-school was full of play doe. Most of which I ate. Weird Salty taste. But I turned out pretty healthy.

1989. Kindergarten. So I was a 4 year old kid in an Islamic school in Garden Grove, Orange County, California. I learned Arabic and to set the record straight they didn't teach me how to hold a gun. The most memorable thing? Well lets just say I had a loud mouth. I questioned everything. I thought I was going to die back then because every day my nose would bleed profusely. And I pissed off my teacher on countless occasions and led her to the point of complete madness. In fact she screamed these words at me, " You bloody Indian". She was Pakistani. Go figure. So kindergarten. I was the weird nose bleeder who was also an Indian terrorist. All at the age of 4. Not bad eh? Yeah I had an early start.

1989, December27th- My 4th birthday at Disneyland. Sucked big time. I could only go on the kiddie rides because I wasn't tall enough to go on the bigger and badder rides. I cried and cried until Goofy, or the live sized version of Goofy rather, came and made my life better. Goofy is the man!...ok GOOFY IS THE CHARACTER. December 31. How did my parents and I bring in the New Year? With Salman Khan in Maine Pyar Kiya. I experienced love for the first time at the age of four, and I never forgot Salman after that. He was my hero and he still is. ::SIGH..Don't hate. True love never dies.

1990: After Salman came "New Kids on the Block". The first boy band (not the last) that I loved. By the age of 5 I had memorized the words to "Sweet Caroline" after my dad infused the Neil Diamond version in my head. Sorry Elvis. Neil helped me get obsessed with music. But your still the king. Following Neil, I hear that "Dancing Queen" was my first attempt and a Broadway production, singing and dancing included.

1991- 1992: 1st and 2nd grade was a breeze. I was chubby as ever but I did exceptionally well in sports and all the activities associated with boys. I won the long jump and the 100 ft sprint. Can you believe it. The fat kid prevailed. I was such a boy at this age that I think my parents got scared about my orientation and put my in Ballet classes. Yuck. Wrong decision. Putting a tom boy with short hair and duck feet in ballet shoes and a tutu. Disastrous. I lasted 6 months before I feigned injury. Hallelujah.

1993: Ace of Base. My first music album that was entirely mine and not my dads. I was a believer. Pop music was my life. I got the cd on my 8th birthday and I never looked back. It was by far the best birthday ever, with tons of gifts, a big party, a big puffy dress with a fake bow on my boy cut haired head and a lot of attention from everyone. Perfect.

1994: Disneyland was better at the age of 9. I could go on all the rides and I saw Michael Jackson. And as I recall it, I was a calm and composed 9 year old who just exclaimed at the site of the most famous pop star ever. According to my dad, I nearly had a heart attack at the age of 9 because I couldn't stop hyperventilating. I suggest you put both our stories together to understand the situation in its entirety.

1995-1997 Fourth grade was cool. It was at Beatty Elementary that I spent 3 years without moving. I was introduced to hip hop by the Spanish kid named Alex that sat next to me. Tupac had arrived, but not struck yet. 5th and 6th grade were my sunshine years, I excelled in school and for a change didn't get report cards that were bombarded with teacher remarks like "She's a bright kid but talks to much. She is capable of so much more". Aww Humbug. 6th grade I got my first pair of bell bottoms and got the coolest hair style in town, The layer cut. Yes I was on my way to girl hood. As I was ready to enter girl hood, Leonardo Dicaprio took over my life. Titanic Mania started and he was my poster boy. Even my mom and dad indulged me in the mania. I went on to see Titanic 12 times in the theater alone and "My heart will Go on" was my anthem. I used to sing it in the mirror to the boy I thought was waiting somewhere for me.. ha. that's funny. I have to laugh.

1998-1999: Junior High school. By far the toughest, craziest, weirdest, most life altering two years of my life. I entered as a tomboy but was ready to convert. However I could never break free. I was type cast. Stuck in my tomboy glory where guys thought of me as their friends and not girls they could like. I was in Honors classes and I was also Secretary of the student body and an editor of the school newspaper. I had it all, except the boy I liked. ::sigh...ok ok maybe not just one boy but, many. There are three memories I will never forget from junior high. The first one was when I had to go give my leadership speech and ask the class to vote for me. It was the scariest experience but one that I will never forget. Believe it or not I started by speech with borrowed words from Martin Luther King. " I have a dream...."The second memory is of my substitute teacher who has featured in another blog. Sam. He was the first older man in my life who paid me enough and more attention. He was that man. The man who made me feel like a woman without even knowing it. He's also the man who I fell in front of the whole class for. Yes. That's a day I will never forget. Junior High was full of talk on drugs, sex and alcohol. None of which I had interest in. I was too caught up with *NSYNC. The boy band of my dreams and at that point the very reason for my existence. By far the best memory from Junior high was my first NSYNC concert. It was perfect. Justin Timberlake was my new love. my new poster boy. my new reason for breathing. Yes it was that dramatic and intense.

2000-2003: High school. Yes its exactly like what you see on TV and in movies. The cliques. The identity crises. The bullies. The undeniable bonds and friendships. The crushes. The heartbreaks. The dances. The first kiss. The first heartbreak. The first real non celebrity love. I experienced it all. However unlike in the movies, I had four different schools in three different countries, in four years. In these four years I made the best friends who I still love and keep in touch with, the best *NSYNC concert (June 9, 2000), and my new found passion. Dance. However i was a closet dancer. I mean don't misunderstand. I did all the compulsory family gathering entertainment dances, I did the wedding dances, but it was dancing on a stage that gave me an undeniable unexplainable high. It was when I 17 that I indulged in my first under age activity. I got into a club without id to see Snoop Dogg and Xhibit. It was all worth it. Even if I am a criminal and committed a misdemeanor, at least I saw Snoop and got an unforgettable memory in the process. I graduated and finally made it to adulthood. It wasn't easy and without difficulty. In between all the fun came the near failed attempt at graduating, the SATs, Prom (that I didn't go to) and future changing decisions. Till now their were the Sabrinas, Cristinas, Marnitas, Aamirs, Afshins, Vareeshas, Maryams, Sonias, Subhanas, Nimas, Amrutas, Bineeshs, Johns, Phillips, Mohits, Monals, Brandons, Mujahids, Fahads. There were the good byes.

2004-2007: I made the wise decision to change countries and come to India. I was a confused Indian born, America returned Desi. Phew. Try finding a short form for that. I had the OC to remind me of the better and worse days. For the first time in my life I experienced what it felt like being in an all girls college. St. Francis College. I mean even in the Islamic school I had boys in my class. I was truly deprived, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it. Made the experience all the more fun. I mean come on I read books on what happened in all girls schools. It was fun. I became wiser, became bolder, and had a clearer goal in front of me. Just give me television, movies or music and I knew I had a future in it. Aristotle met Coleridge and Salt N Peppa. There was the youth and youth magazines. With fun meetings, cool bosses, neat co workers, and experiences galore. There were sleep overs, meeting boys on the side out of college, bunking, and long exam papers. There were Teachers day performances and There were crazy teachers. There were sons of teachers who helped me experience new things and brought sunshine. There were friends who encouraged my craziness. There were driving incidents where I drove on the wrong side of the road. The Mother Karunas. The psycho Priyas. The lean Shanti and the "mean" Nidhi. The fruity Farhas. The cheaters. The good ones. French Class. YUCK. Enough said.

2007-2009: SIMC. I loved it. Hated it. dreaded it. There were the incredible 8. The rakhi brothers. Prerna apartments. "Going with the Flow". Old Monk. Cutting Chai and wada pav at the Tapri. Aerobics and yoga aches. Photoshop pains. Convergent dreams. Greys Anatomy. Weight loss. Mother Theresa episodes. Bombay Madness with groping, poverty, insomnia and near death experiences. Footprint the FOC and FOC the DAM. Authoritarians and tyrants. Jail like hostels. "Smoke free" zones. Jumping the fence. Late Night Edits. Gossip Girls and Gossip Boys. Kabhi Sauten Kabhi Saheli. Panic attacks. Deliberation and the Deliberators. Suffocating room with a dysfunctional AC. Goa trips and other explorations. Bangalore dreams. The scandals and speculations. The revelations. Weight Gain. The freshers and the farewells.

Here on out, its a fresh clean slate. No more teachers in the classroom, only in the real world. No more absences or bunking sessions, only controlled attendance and pay slips. There are so many memories to revisit and so many I would like to forget. Whatever the case. It's been a trip so far. Thank you for coming along.