As I was forewarned, the dynamics of the job are completely different. A small request from the client can send us into a tizzy, the days are almost always long and accountability takes on its full meaning, for a gaffe can lead you to lose an account. (No pun intended.)

But the atmosphere here is electric with creative energy and for the first time since I started working, I’m starting to feel “fulfilled”. By fulfilled I mean that I am happy to get my hands dirty every single day (in the good sense of the term) and to see the results bearing fruit.

So join me in the celebration, won’t you?

Champagne!

Compared to my very first job interview, today I am much more aware of my strengths and shortcomings. I know what I have to offer. So even though I get that there are ten other candidates vying for the same position, I am confident and don’t act desperate. I think it is something every employment-seeker should understand.

It is also very important to prepare for the interview. Here are some points that are often overlooked:

Prepare questions: Interviews usually end with “Do you have any questions?” This is a tough one because you might have already asked questions during the course of the interview and gathered all the information you needed. Still, not asking a question makes you look bad and uninterested. So prepare some questions in advance.

- Alison Green of “Ask a manager” is a big fan of the “magic question” : Thinking back to people who have been in this position previously, what differentiated the ones who were good from the ones who were really great?
- Penelope Trunk writes about questions that you should NOT ask.

Have a nice day: I am kind of superstitious and believe that if my day starts well, it will end well. So I will try to avoid any stress on the day of the interview. This means getting up early in the morning to avoid transport hassles on the way to work. Dressing up and feeling pretty. Having lunch at a restaurant with a friend. If I feel good throughout the day, I go into the interview with a positive attitude.

Take notes: Yes, because they will make you look organised and professional.

Send a thank you note: It takes only two minutes and yet most candidates don’t do it. Good for you, because it will make you stand out.

Don’t send in the mail right as you walk out through the door. Don’t wait for more than 48 hours either. Refer to your notes and include something thoughtful. Like if you discussed the employee training programme, say how it added to your motivation to work at the company.

Be sincere throughout the process though, because insincerity shows.

As the countdown ends, people scream and hug and fireworks light up the jet-black skies. It is as if mankind managed to put a man on the sun, or something.

New Year's celebrations next to Eiffel Tower

There is hardly anything special about the New Year’s. Except, I remember, on the cusp of 1999 and 2000, when we wondered whether our computers would crash from the stress of figuring out what double-digit number comes after 99.

Today, I think I understand. People celebrate New Year’s because it gives them an opportunity to start with a blank page and write a brand new story. From the “beyond” of 2011, the problems and worries of 2010 seem far away. The worse seems to be over and in a strange way, you feel sheltered.

New Year’s is also a symbolic ritual to mark our resolve to make our lives better. To exercise, to travel, to read… And why not; because beginnings are known to bring bursts of enthusiasm and energy which help get the year rolling on a positive note.

But why wait until New Year’s to turn a new page? So many times, we just need to give that little push to the status quo in our lives in order to have happiness flowing in. Moving to a new city, quitting the job that makes you unhappy, ending unhealthy relationships…

I am about to finish my present internship/temp job of over a year. Although I know I will be sad to leave (I really like my job) and even if I don’t know where I’m going to end up yet, I’m excited.

You see, when I started the internship, I was a different person. Hardly out of school, with practically no worldly experience, I had a lot to learn. As I leave, I am much more confident, professional and self-aware. And yet, I know that in my present job I will have a tough time rubbing out the “intern” tag from people’s minds.

So I am glad to be able to go out and turn a new page.

Have you ever (intentionally or unintentionally) turned a page in your life? How did it feel like?

Our teachers told us that we could be anything we wanted as adults. Doctors, engineers, journalists, artists, pilots, lawyers… It was just a matter of hard work and perseverance. And so we persevered.

Our textbooks said that men and women had equal rights in India. Newspapers featured stories of successful women – Kiran Bedi, Barkha Dutt, Chandra Kocchar and Indra Nooyi. We wanted to be like them.

Domestic violence was something that happened to uneducated women from poor families. Dowry deaths happened in villages. And if women stayed shackled to home and heath, it was because they did not try hard enough.

But we, the Generation Y girls from English-speaking, modern, middle to upper-class families were a privileged lot.

And the world was our oyster.

Or were we living in an oyster?

At the threshold of adolescence, as we were released from the comforting confines of high school – where everybody came from more or less the same socioeconomic background – into the wider horizon of the university world, the oyster cracked open.

Our bodies started to change and so did the regard of the society. In crowded buses, hands would grope our bottoms and some good-for-nothings would whistle lustfully as we walked past by them.

“But your skirt was a little too short”, some wise one would say.

Lesson learnt. If our Bollywood idols could romp about in mini skirts and low-cut blouses, we could not.

We are not to be caught holding hands with boys.

We are not to be too loud, too boisterous.

Marketing and sales is not for us – why not study to be a teacher instead? Plenty of time then to “take care” of the family.

You are 25 already and not yet married?

You must learn to cook and clean my dear, what will your future in-laws think?

The world our parents brought us up in and the “real” world seem so far apart. And this, I believe, is the dilemma of the contemporary Indian woman.

Tradition and modernity. Family and career. Societal expectations and self realisation. Where to draw the line? Where to find balance?

As this article in The Guardian rightly says: Between the soap-opera beauties and the establishment figures of “women’s empowerment”, the Indian woman is floundering for new ideas about herself and her destiny, unclear about what freedom means, at a time when east and west are clashing at every shopping mall.

Surely Indian women have come a long way. They are making their voices heard in the Parliament and acting as vigilantes in lawless corners of the country. They represent 40% of the students enrolled in colleges. Why, the current president of India is a woman.

The relative emancipation of Indian women, however, comes with a price. While they are joining the workforce in increasing numbers, women do not have a good support system to cope with household duties. As is the wont of women around the world, the Indian woman too is falling victim to the Superwoman syndrome where she aspires to be the perfect housewife all the while climbing the corporate ladder.

In some households, having a career is still considered to be a “privileged pastime” and family members will often try finding fault with the household duties of the working woman. Back in India I once found myself among a group of sixty-something mother-in-laws blaming their daughters-in-law: “We could have had careers if we wanted to. But we did not want to fall short in our children’s upbringing.”

To me, their conversation reeked of jealousy and broken aspirations.

The workplace is not any kinder. Working Mother Research Institute reports: Ceilings to their (read Indian women’s) aspiration are made of more than glass. Traditional social attitudes and cultural patterns have not changed overnight. Overt discrimination may be receding, but the ‘old boys networks’ may still be operational. The skills and confidence to push for career advancement are not instantly acquired. Practical infrastructure challenges can vex the most determined of women as they try to make lives that embrace both work and family.”

So what is the conclusion of all this? Let us encourage the women who decide to dedicate their lives to their careers. Let us support those who choose the balancing act. And let’s not look down with condescension on those who go for the traditional role of the nurturer. Above all, let us all respect each other; for it is only through mutual understanding that we can help further the cause of women’s empowerment.

France has a great and longstanding culinary tradition. The basis of the French cooking philosophy is to use spices and condiments sparingly in order to bring out the natural taste of meats and vegetables. For most Indians, French food seems bland. But my personal experience is that with an open mind (and I will underline that), you soon start to appreciate it.

For the past two years, I have had the opportunity to taste several different kinds of meats and veggies (rabbit, ostrich, snails, avocado, leek, endive…), with various ways of cooking (baking, boiling, frying…) and the tons of diverse sauces (pepper, red wine, tomato…)

[For the record, I never found frogs’ legs on the menu in French restaurants. And I ate the snails at a very touristy restaurant in Montmartre.]

What the French cuisine lacks though is a wide and interesting palette of vegetarian dishes. More often than not, vegetables are served solely as a side-dish and even in nice restaurants, they are practically tasteless.

There is however a (well-known) exception – ratatouille. Put together a few vegetables, some tomato sauce (not ketchup) and this delicious, healthy dish is ready in a few minutes.

Here is my easy-to-cook recipe:
(Since I cook by intuition the following proportions are approximate.)

Ingredients:
2 medium-sized onions, a few cloves of garlic, 1 brinjal/aubergine (for my Indian readers, the big kind of brinjal we use to make bharta), 1 capsicum, 1 zucchini (in India, called tori or turai), 1 big can of boiled and peeled tomatoes/2-3 boiled and peeled tomatoes, herbes de provence (a ready-made mixture of herbs – thyme, fennel, basil, etc.), olive oil, salt and pepper to taste.

Cut the onions roughly and crush the garlic cloves. Heat some olive oil in a pan, add onions first and then garlic. Sprinkle some salt. Let everything cook until the onions start to reduce.

In the mean time, cut capsicum and brinjal roughly. Slice up zucchini. Add to the pan. Sprinkle some more salt and the herbes as per your estimate. (Again, a note for my Indian readers: in absence of the herbs, try using some chat masala. Go easy on the salt though.)

Finally, add the can of tomatoes to the mixture. Let all of it cook for about fifteen minutes.

As a finishing touch, sprinkle some pepper. If you are feeling gluttonous, add some grated cheese (preferably gruyère).

Your ratatouille is ready to be served.

Ratatouille can either be served as the main dish – accompanied by bread or rice – or as a side-dish.

Ratatouille forever!

I was 7 years old when you came into this world. It was an afternoon and I remember being excited as ajji and ajoba accompanied me to the hospital in a rickshaw.

When I saw you – a pink and wrinkly mass of flesh with a non-existent chin, I was kind of disappointed. A baby was supposed to be cute, right?

I spent the next day at the hospital. I wanted to “play” with you. But all you would do is cry, eat, pee, poo, sleep and stare. That was the scary thing about you: you could stare down any adult.

And then we brought you home.

Eventually, you grew a chin, put on a lot of adorable baby fat and learned to gurgle endearingly. I was in love.

When it was time to enrol you at school, I was happy to have you around on my ride to school. The rickshaw-uncle would invariable make you sit in the “dickey” behind the seat (you were tiny, so you fit!). Once, I remember, someone gave you a chocolate. As graceful as ever, you drooled… All over my shoulder!

The proud sister that I was, I would come visit you during the lunch break. And you would pretend to not recognise me and would go on playing with your friends.

At times, you really annoyed me.

It is sad but with time, so many sweet memories are forgotten. What stays behind is somewhat like a collage. Now you are driving on your little red scooter, then we are fighting over the TV remote. You are dressed as a mango in a fancy dress competition. You are also dressed as a saffron-clad, bearded sadhu for a school play. During your munja, your hair is shaved off and I tease you for looking like The Mask. We are on my Scooty and we stop at a kacchi dabheli stall (You always ask for a second helping). We are at Kalyan’s stuffing pani puri. (Is it strange that so many of my memories of us are related to food?)

As the protagonist of Rebecca says, if only we could bottle up memories and then be able to open and smell them when we wish.

I think neither me, nor you, saw time flying. Now you are 16. Tall like a bamboo.

And I must say, however embarrassing it might feel: I’m lucky to have you as my brother.

I like what you have grown up to be. I like that you are curious and questioning. Never lose that inquisitive twinkle in your eyes.

Lots of love and best wishes for the year to come.

In France, it’s customary to go around the open space saying hello to everybody in the morning. It’s also OK (or rather important) to chit chat with your colleagues around the coffee machine. And as someone who plopped herself in front of the computer immediately on arriving, I ran the risk of appearing anti-social and a misfit.

Companies look for people who fit into their culture. And this can be especially hard to do when you are working in a foreign country. And add to that the pressure of being a new intern in the organisation!

My tip? When in Rome, act like the Romans. Observe. Mime. Find a mentor. And if you make gaffes, apologise.

My first steps included saying hello with a bright smile to anybody that crossed my desk. Watching a football match in a meeting room crowded with half of the department (even though I had only a slight interest in it) made me feel like a part of the team. Lunches with colleagues at the office canteen allowed me to connect with them on a more personal level.

My goal today is to learn the right etiquettes and codes of conduct in order to be a perfect fit for the team – something that will surely add to the chances of me being recruited.

A company is about people, about human interactions and to thrive, you need to know the ropes!

Stuff you need to know while working in France:

- It’s OK to take long lunch breaks: one, one and a half hours is not shocking. Eating in front of your computer is for losers with no life.
- In July and August, everybody will go on leave. If you have important things to get done, you either do it before or wait until the summer ends.
- Work and life separation is very important for the French. After work happy hours are rare in most companies.
- Weekend is SACRED. Nobody will work on a weekend.
- People don’t work crazy hours but flexibility in works hours is not encouraged.
- You know how awkwardness descends when a stranger joins you in the elevator? Say a cheery “bonjour” and it vanishes like magic. No need to stand awkwardly in a corner pretending to be invisible.
- It’s OK to call your boss by his/her first name (usually), even when you’re an intern. Can be very hard for us South Asians.

In a country where 80% people have dusky to dark complexions – people are “obsessed” with white skin. I am not going to go into the reasons why; some say it’s a remnant of the colonial era, some says it’s a result of the caste system as the so-called “superior” castes tend to have a lighter skin. The fact is, even today, dusky actresses are not the norm in Bollywood. Pharmacies sell skin creams promising girls (and now even men) a fairer and “lovelier” complexion. (Worse the ads usually equate a lighter complexion with more success in personal and professional life) Matrimonial ads have prospective grooms looking for a “fair” bride.

Unfair (pardon the pun) and unjust? Borderline racist behaviour? Or simply a beauty criteria (like tall, thin, etc.)? I don’t know.

On coming to France I saw the other side of the coin: people with light skins spending hours in the sun to tan, using UVs, etc.

So I wonder: don’t we always aspire to be something we are not? The grass always seems greener on the other side of the fence. We always find a way to burden ourselves with unrealistic expectations and in the process make ourselves unhappy.

My resolution for the day: Be myself. Be happy. Be grateful for what I have.

Following a review by Sadya Siddiqui, a fellow Brazen Careerist, I decided to re-think about the raison d’être of my blog. I came up with a new blog description and a renewed vigour to contiue blogging. Thank you, Sadya!

Anyway. Here goes the story of my life.

I am in my bed. It’s midnight and I’m unable to sleep. I’m feeling uneasy, like something heavy was pressing down on my chest. And then I’m feeling scared and tearful. I want to go away and hide. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Rewind to the time when all I thought about was homework, food and the cute guys in my class.
I am ten years old and I fall asleep instantly as I place my head on the pillow. I fear nothing, except probably maths. I am a good student. And an ideal daughter.

Fast forward a decade and am packing bags to leave for Paris. I have been given a scholarship to study in one of the best schools in France. My parents have agreed to pay for a part of my expenses and the student loan will take care of the rest.

I have made myself and my family proud.

As my plane takes off, I have butterflies in my stomach. My dream is coming true. The tears shed by my parents down at the airport are fast forgotten.

The year passes by in a whiz. New friends, parties, travel and discovery.

Fast forward again to September. I am glad to be back to Paris after the summer vacations. And then, I fall in love. He’s funny and kind and generous and smart. But he is also French. Parents panic. I get defensive. They feel betrayed. I think they just don’t understand me.

Rewind to the vacations. Mom had said she had found the perfect match for me. I had cringed. I have always dreaded arranged marriages. But it is quite the norm back home.

Fast forward and December arrives. Classes are already over. Shit!

Then, I land the internship of my dreams. All of a sudden, I’m paying my own rent, enjoying this new-found financial freedom.

And then one fine day, it dawned on me. The terrible truth.

I was now on my own in this big, bad world. I had become, in the true sense of the term, an adult.

And that is exactly why I was twisting and turning in my bed the other night.

Being an adult means that I have to shoulder the expectations of my family and the society. I am “expected” to find a well-paying job and settle down with a suitable boy. ASAP.

Being an adult means that I can no longer call home the house I grew up in. It shall now be uniquely and exclusively my parent’s home.

Being an adult means above all, that I have to now take my own decisions, make my own life choices. And if those choices hurt somebody, I have to take the responsibility for it.

I realise though that my loved ones shall always be around to support me and guide me and I feel lucky to have such a lovely entourage.

I also realise that I am a bit of a drama queen and that other people have a lot bigger problems in their lives.

But I need to vent. I need to talk about my experiences, share the lessons I learn and ask questions to young people like me. And this is why I decided to blog.

There you go.

I am feeling a little naked now