code switching and sweat

Last week I moved to Mumbai. Maybe ‘moved’ is too dramatic a term – last week, I came to Mumbai with the intention of staying for 3 months, maybe more.

Some things I have learned since then:

  1. The air in monsoon is thicker than water; my nostrils are having trouble catching up.
  2. Humidity and productivity don’t match.
  3. There are no words to describe the relief of air conditioning.
  4. UberPool and rickshaws can cost the same.
  5. My Hin-glish is passable but not convincing.
  6. Want to feel privileged? Walk around Mumbai.
  7. Want to feel privileged? Be from an upper-middle-class highest-caste Marathi family. It is eye-opening to be in this country, under this administration, more aware of the political currents of the world than ever. My family are the WASPs of India: politically moderate, culturally conservative, privileged by generations of post-graduate education, in the religious majority, light-eyed, and light-skinned (oops missed that boat 💁🏾). We skeptically and hopefully watch Prime Minister Modi, a right-wing pro-market and pro-privatization politician in the interest of ‘something different’. But if he fucks up, our lives won’t really change too much.
  8. Much of my viewpoint of Indian culture, society and politics have been filtered through the above viewpoint.
  9. I don’t yet know what to do with my now even stronger privilege guilt.
  10. The local (aka train) isn’t as bad as everyone says, except when it is. If you stand near the door of the train, the crowd will carry you out. Elbows are thrown but only on the train to Virar because it only comes once in a blue moon (so far). Really, it’s not that bad. Don’t let my family scare you.
  11. The women’s railway car is a blessing. I will not ride in the other car.
  12. However, the fear of Indian misogyny is stronger than its’ presence (so far).
  13. Hanging out the door of a train is (a) not as scary as it sounds, and (b) just as filmy as it sounds, and (c) a crucial sweat drier, and (d) quite fun, but (e) I only dared to do it as I slowly pulled in to small-town India.
  14. Yes the food is good. The home food is better.
  15. Being cooked for is amazing. Feeling obliged to parental figures is not.
  16. Living 12.5 hours and many countries away from a partner is hard.
  17. ^Sharing that is weird, but I’m working on vulnerability.
  18. I am still the sweatiest person I know, even in a country full of brown people.
  19. I can and will alter my English accent to suit the company. I can’t and won’t guess how convincing my Indian accent is.
  20. In the morning, I wake in a 50 year old flat in a room without air conditioning. I take a bath out of a bucket, and put powder on my body, talking only in Marathi with my family. There is decades of urban dirt in the crevices, no matter how much they are scrubbed. Then I will take the women’s car, pressed full of bodies, into a hipper, younger, cleaner part of town. I will sit in air-conditioned cafes with the city’s elite, order black coffee, talk in American English, take calls and fill in spreadsheets, and be called ma’am. Then I’ll go home and eat (and love) simple Marathi food, fail to explain to my family why I go to cafes during the day if I’m here to work, and then I will sleep under a roaring fan, mosquitos buzzing lazily above. Code switching has never been so real.
  21. Spirits are low and spirits are high.
  22. I feel like months have passed since LA.
  23. Week 2 here I come.

i went to new year’s mass

The world is so painfully human, today and everyday.

In Vienna, in Stephansdom with spidering lanes extending all around, rising spirals and imposing walls, a grand organ sounds. Young, old, tired, fresh, swathed in mink and in polyester, breathing incense, sitting, rising, crossing themselves in cold quiet peace.

The man in white talks of Aleppo, of Syria whole, Paris, Brussels, Berlin in soothing tones while cities and people all over the world burn.

Shuffling in unison, everyone follows the known patterns. Sit, stand, kneel, cross, repeat. Pay. Turn and kiss your lover. Turn and shake hands with your neighbor, given them a kind smile. Wish ‘Gott’s bright and dark and historically tinged love upon them in the new year. Take in the sweeping symmetry, the colored glass and excruciating detail of the cathedral completed by human fingers 857 years ago. Let the grand swell of the organ that sings with seemingly a hundred voices fill your chest with hope and joy.

In the back of the hall, a small-statured family of squirming and joyous heads tries to love and revere and quiet their brood all at once. The smallest pink curly one toddles out of her father’s grasp and locks eyes with an elder man. He sits in slicked leather stretching down his curved back. She grins, showing tic tac teeth and reaches for him. He reaches back. Old and new, young and tired, past and future join hands in anonymous love.

The world burns. We are small, but we send smoke and fumes into the ether. Our religions and beliefs are as human as our size, relative to the sun, to the the solar system, the galaxy, the universe. We are small. We writhe in them, look right with suspicion, look left with blind care, spill each others’ blood, jostle one another, step on toes and arms and heads and backs to rise up the stairs to the world’s top floor, overlooking a view so small, so far away from the black and white contrast of life that it is calm. Unmoving. Beautiful. The world burns. Dancers fall in Istanbul, killed by men in Santa hats.

I sit in my quiet, warm shelter, drinking hot tea, eyes glazing over pixelated pictures of pain on my conflict mineralized processor.

Again, somewhere, a little girl and an old man join hands. Their power of warmth sends a glow to all who watch. And we step, her, him, I, you, into the new year.

university of the super committed


It’s been inexactly one week back in this city of concrete angels, back being a (technically) functioning member of society, and I feel like I’ve been seeing everything through tinted experience-goggles (though never of the wine variety, because Crianza and I are still in a committed relationship and also legality)

Not all bad or great, not even *that* different, just enough to leave a pleasantly funky taste in the back of my mouth.

Some observations:

My friends are really accomplished, specifically successful huggers. Which is good, because if you give me a limp noodle hug, I might feed you an actual limp noodle. (The worst). I was really a bit worried about coming back after 7 months MIA being kinda social media inactive (millenial probssszzzz). Did people forget who I was? Did they really only like the 9 extra inches of hair hanging down my back? Was I #STOKED enough about USC to have shared context to discuss? Of course, none of these mind-niggles actually came to fruition – everyone is lovely and welcoming as per usual, and it is a great cure to post-exchange friendship depression to remember that people are p cool worldwide.

Los Angeles is colder than I recall, and being alone in a ginormous, creaky historic LA home west of Vermont will challenge your squaling-suppression abilities.

Buying espresso in a European frequency is going to bankrupt me in t-minus 10 days.

The UPS monster may have eaten the new mobile device I ordered, but what it didn’t know is that I’ve developed a fondness for the slide-out QWERTY keyboard phone of 2007 I’ve been rocking. Affectionately known as the dino phone, we’re like Bob the builder together and get! the! job! done!

USC students are On with a capital O, All The Time – so much so that I needed to capitalize that middle ‘t’ on the ‘the’. Did that make sense? I’ve spent an entire business course spent on career opportunities and how to perfectly craft your online/written/media presence. I’ve congratulated more than a couple of friends figuring out their futures months/years ahead of time.

My peers are beyond cool, and I am constantly humbled, awed, honored, and proud to be their friend.

But sometimes, you can’t help but compare yourself.

You can’t help but use it as wonderment and motivation and a questionably healthy (?) sense of fire under your chair to try to FIND that which is going to be your FUTURE and bring you CONTENTMENT and MEANING through CAREER. It’s far too much to ask. But sometimes it feels like just enough to ask, and sometimes it feels inadequate to just ask for so little. I’m rambling. I’m thinking, I’m questioning, I’m questioning again, because that is the power of these peers of mine.

And sitting at home, writing this on a Saturday night feels right.

And being back in Los Angeles, feels right.

que vaya bien, barcelona


Local Time: 12:42 a.m.
Departure to California: 4:45 a.m.
Current status: jittery and nervous and sad

Seven months later, I didn’t think this moment would actually arrive. I didn’t conceptualize what it might feel like, I didn’t realize I’d truly have to leave this city, didn’t think I wouldn’t know when I might exit the US again. Didn’t think the prospect of returning to LA would make me nervous, didn’t think I’d be this human I’m mostly proud to be, didn’t think, didn’t think, didn’t think…

Didn’t believe I would actually feel this loss, didn’t know what leaving a geographic location might mean. Didn’t expect my privilege to grow to such heights, didn’t expect my beliefs to be so challenged. Didn’t expect to fall in love with so many people, didn’t know the definition of home to change.



Didn’t expect to look so far and wide for my future, didn’t expect to feel a world citizen. Didn’t know what I’d learn from whom, didn’t expect great beauty at each turn. Didn’t think I would truly struggle, didn’t realize whom I’d miss. Didn’t know what I do not need to live, didn’t know what I wanted from life.

This life journey is just beginning, I know I need to remember that. Life and beauty and excitement exist at geographic home as well, I just have to search. But this unsettled urge, this desire to wander has been instilled – I just have to shed a few baggage kilos, and I’ll be back.

I have been incredibly, incredibly indebted to a lot of things/people in the last seven, and especially four, months.

  • the parentals, for support/funds/not freaking out (too much) when I said “i’m in Paris” and then didn’t answer the phone for 5 days
  • USC – I haven’t always loved it for the same reasons, but it is the beginning and end and reason for this place that I am
  • HUMANS. Couldn’t have climbed 6 flights of stairs with my suitcase without hostel friends, couldn’t have dealt with crazy landladies without apartment friends, couldn’t have made it out of the house without roommates, couldn’t have smiled at coffee without friendly cashiers, etc.

This isn’t the end of Alimentarily. In fact, I hope for it to be just the beginning – I have a million things to digress about a couple of places (Prague, Morocco, Paris, Girona, to name a few) that I was too harried to recount before now. I hope what I have to say about them is still interesting though not quite as timely (a few hundred apologies to my past and future journalism instructors). And then, digressions about wherever I happen to be in the coming days/weeks/months/on

In the mean time, nos vemos pronto California.

12 things i learned whilst on the biggest procrastination binge of my life


(Kind of like when I was in that cathedral in Madrid where I took this picture and my head was swiveling in the wrong direction. Unless you count that to be the right direction because heaven and what not. #digress)

  1. Working out the brain is also habit. or rather, forcing your brain to work out takes practice. its so much easier to bow out of obligation when you’ve had no obligation to bow into for so long. school is going to be very difficult to return to.
  2. Drake DID date Rihanna
  3. The USC student government has postponed determination of their diversity resolution by 2 weeks, citing reasons such as “we all had class today”, and “where is the money coming from?” at a private university halfway to their $6 billion fundraising goal.
  4. LeAnn Rimes and Giuliana Rancic once had a skinny-calling compliment fight where they told each other to eat sandwiches.
  5. Shell once claimed they had no “direct” role of the death of the people in the Niger Delta where they were operating, and they were acquitted in an international forum.
  6. There may be a reason that Lupita Nyong’o’s favorite musicians are African-American, and that reason may be connected to the fact that 99% of the other celebrities Vogue interviewed in their 73 questions series are not of color of any type, most probably unintentionally.
  7. There are bigger than us factors at play in the motion of the globe, and no one person can be in control. Contrastingly, those with power of any sort have great immeasurable responsibility.
  8. The hairstyle I would like to rock is now called a “wob” – wavy bob. That’s dumber than even I could have come up with and now I am doubly stoked to order one.
  9. IceCube would like the world to know, that NWA does not stand for ‘Nickelback was Awesome’
  10. I owe my roommate a box of “barritas de cereales” because oops where did they all go?
  11. Cello is the closest-sounding instrument to the human voice, according to Spotify.
  12. If you don’t renew your Spotify student subscription within a year, they start charging you real-person prices. If you were real-person price ready, you would be more salty and take your business elsewhere. But you’re not. That’s why you’re writing this right now, and not your paper.

an argument against academic papers


Coming to you live, swaddled on the couch in my turtleneck, slightly sweating out a slight fever, and slightly more than slightly frustrated with the academic paper I am supposed to be writing on the topic of business ethics (can you say procrasti-blogging? Me neither)

Business ethics is a topic that lies very close to my interest – I am a disenchanted business student (to say the least) who often annoyingly rolls her eyes at things like ‘the bottom line’ in my marketing courses, who is thoroughly enjoying her class on reimagining capitalism, and is totally unsure where in the consumer world to find myself in just one short year post-graduation.

So obviously, I entered this course with high expectations – top business school, PhD candidate professor of the Institute of Social Innovation, classroom full of international peers with individual views on the role of business and we got to discuss ETHICS while the world around us broils with consumer desire for shared value!

A session and a half in, I found myself defining legitimacy as it applies to the moral understanding, the cognitive understanding, or the pragmatic understanding, and its relation to the modern conceptualization of instrumental CSR. Did I lose you? Because I lost me.

So I, as a mildly obnoxious student that I have the ability to be, went up to my prof at the end of class and in polite, smiling, hesitant words, asked her, essentially, “What’s the point?”

What is the purpose of academia without application?

Of forming the Global Environmental Council for the Health of the Ailing Alpine Sheep and studying in great detail The Coalition in Support of Less Cotton Candy Coverage in Social Media?

(The mention of sheep cannot be either confirmed or denied.)

The response I got was two-pronged, and (spoiler-alert) I think the real Prongs would have called the responses less impressive than a strong Befuddlement Draught:

Prong 1: To get a good job! [This seems to be a be-all, end-all answer to a lot of “why’s” in business school. Why learn this? Because everyone before you had to suffer so now you do to, because when you get out you’ll be expected to show your battle scars. Sounds a lot like hazing to me but what do I know?] Because when you’re a high-paid CSR consultant to a boxy corporate company, they will expect you to reference academia so they can reference academia and the cycle shall continue.

Prong 2: Sometimes academia is simply for the sake of discussion. And though I’m all for educational, thought-provoking discussion to get the creativity flowing on date night, this sounds like a whole lotta “no reason” to me, especially in a topic like business ethics that has all this relevance and practicality and in a room full of the world’s future business members, shouldn’t we be DEBATING something? Practicing our ability to consider ethics in the face of profit, or practicing our ability to totally ignore it at the very least?

I don’t want to paint a completely bratty picture of the education I’ve been getting here – most of my courses at ESADE thus far have been engaging and thought-provoking in a way that I am very grateful for, especially considering the amount of time I have been able to dedicate to them and truly absorb their material.

But when ethics surrounding business, a topic that has killed thousands of people, and taken homes, health, families, and food away from another set of thousands is addressed in this clinical and sterile way, I don’t know what to do with myself.

I welcome every criticism of my viewpoint, I’m so naive when it comes to most topics that are past my bubble-sized scope of understanding, that putting an opinion of anything out in the world is one of the scarier things I might do. And I’m truly searching for an answer to this question – what is the purpose of academia surrounding a pragmatic topic, if it is not connected to a practical goal? If the purpose of debate is debate and the issue being debated involves humanity, why take time in the citations?

Until I figure it out, I guess I’ll start this paper.








You saw this one coming.
You knew that I, who have an overwhelming need to use obnoxious vocabulary in everyday life and say the word beautiful (emphasis on the beauuooooo) far too often, would leave you with a mushy/corny/cheesy (all the weirdly textured adjectives) post about how blessed I currently feel by the potentially (non)existant higher power that there may or may not be.

You might not have expected that this comes after a period of slight strife. I feel like Shalaka outside of the US struggles even more than Shalaka inside the US, which is saying a lot. Tending to the harried side of things, its far too easy to get wound up in my stressed mind, running around, sweating it, etc. And its been a tech whirlwind of a week: the quintissential my-iPhone-got-stolen story, followed by the not so common story of my laptop going kaputz. Apple deserted me! Technology only brings evil! I thought about ditching it all and becoming a hermit.

But some Lianne La Havas telling my I’m ‘Unstoppable’, some roommate support, some angry group running, and some deep breaths later, I did the epiphany thing.

I feel so lucky to be seeing this world. I am so privileged to not worry too much about comfort and security.
I feel so lucky to have people at home that give me perspective.
I feel so lucky to constantly be surrounded by smart/funny women.
I feel so lucky to have feet that can carry me through the beauty of this place.

You might even say, I feel hashtag blessed.

(Shoutout to all the ladies that came and made me become my mom-the-hostess this one eve. To many more!)