Life at Par

Yesterday, I was travelling with some people in NCR when, in conversation, someone brought up the topic of a 9 seater crashing on the roof of a house in Faridabad due to a strong storm over Delhi. The plane was a flying ambulance carrying a comatose 22 year-old patient & his cousin from Patna to Delhi (for medical treatment). The crash killed all the 7 members on board (the comatose man & his cousin, the pilot & co-pilot, the anaesthetists & the nurse). Additionally, the wife of the house owner, his daughter & daughter-in-law who were resting on the roof of the building were charred to death while the tenants & the daughter's son managed to escape just in the nick of time.

Now, this was an article that I'd failed to come across in the papers (owing to how irregularly I've been following the papers). So when the topic was brought up, I listened with curiosity to the comments being floated around. The lady who brought up the topic went on to comment on how tragic it was that a young guy who was being brought for treatment should die so tragically & how the "nayi-naveli dulhan" (the daughter-in-law had married into the family in Feb this year) met with such a tragic end. She then went on to sum it up & said "Bhagwan ke tareeke bhi ajeeb hain" (God's ways are strange).

In the evening, I came home & promptly looked for the day's paper. The paper carried articles quoting relatives of the deceased.

The man who lost his wife, daughter & daughter-in-law stated "I have lost all the women in my family. I have lost everything in life."

There was a mention of the anaesthetist on board, who died in the crash.
"Frequently assigned air ambulance duties, anaesthetist Rajesh Jain had left home on Wednesday around 1 PM to ferry a patient from Patna to Delhi. He told his family he had no idea when he would return. Little did anyone know his family would never see him again. Jain was an anaesthetist at New Delhi's Apollo hospital. Along with him, his colleague Syed Arshad Abbas & nurse Cyril P Joy, all part of the medical emergency services team at Apollo Hospital, were killed in the accident. Jain is survived by his one year old son & his wife, who is expecting their first child."

The articles also had a quote from a relative of the 22 year old patient (named Rahul Raj) who was travelling on the flight:
"Rahul had jaundice. On Wednesday he suffered liver failure & slipped into coma. The family decided to shift him to Delhi but he died in the crash. We have lost everything."

While reading these articles, I did obviously feel terrible about the loss suffered by the kith & kin of the deceased, due to such a freak accident. However, at the back of my mind, there was also another thought playing: How is it that the paper played up the stories of only 3 of the misfortunate: the newly-wed daughter-in-law, the comatose young boy & the anaesthetist? Was their death a bigger loss than the others'? I don't think so... but it is worthwhile to note how media ( & in turn, our society which is reflected by our media) determine the value of a life lost. Does the death of a newly-wed bride pinch more than that of a mother of a young child or an elderly woman? Does the death of an expectant father with a toddler & a second child on its way hurt more than the death of his other colleagues? Does the death of a comatose patient deserve to be played up more than the death of the able-bodies cousin, pilot & co-pilot?

Is it because these heart-rending stories play up on our inherent fears of being left stranded & helpless by our loved ones that they have more news appeal? Or do people have shelf-lives wherein, a person who is in a position to contribute something to a dependent/helpless person is of more value? Hence, it is easier to write about (& gain sympathy for) a person who is the sole bread-winner of a family or for a woman who is the mother of a very young child or for a younger person who is yet to live out their life? Is that why the loss of a 45-50+ year old person who has no kids to feed (or marry or educate) is easier to write off?

The fault may not lie in the journalistic principles but may instead, perhaps lie in the inherent selfishness of human nature. As long as we have something to benefit from someone, they are a loved one whose loss means "losing everything". Otherwise, they are just people whose time would have come soon anyway.

As a side note, I've always felt that in an ideal situation, families should travel together so that if one dies, there is no one left behind to mourn the loss. However, recently I came across an alternate belief (prevalent in several business & political families), wherein people want to be survived by family members to carry the legacy forward. Hence, travelling together would lead to a 'placing all your eggs in a single basket kind of situation' & hence, unadvisable. Morbid as the line of thought may be, it is worth a moment's consideration..

A new pasttime

There's a new thing I've started doing at work. Actually, it's not so new... I've just recently begun to be conscious of what I was doing.

At work, we all have desks & are made to sit according to the teams we work with. Each team is separated from the others by modular partitions. My desk is at one corner of the office & from my place I can pretty much see the entire office.

So what I do (whenever I'm jobless & sitting at my desk), is to peer above the screen of my computer & the partition wall & watch the goings-on of the others at work or listen in to interesting conversations (which are usually arguments between a media buyer/planner & a vendor) that float about. The conversations are an interesting study of negotiation tactics & styles but that's a discussion for another day.

When I sit at my desk & peer up, I can see a lot of people standing around (milling about & shouting/arguing seem to be the done thing out here) & walking about. Usually, I can see only their upper torso or in some cases just the head (if the person is shorter than average). And it is this that caught my fancy recently.

Firstly, it's fascinating to look at people's expressions when they are unaware of anyone observing them. They may be in the midst of a conversation or explaining something & while the other person processes what they've just said, they relax, take a step back & assess the other person's responses. Their judgement of these said responses tends to then reflect on their faces... It could be disapproval, contempt, patience, impatience, distraction, confusion... just about anything. I must clarify that I'm not looking at their expressions in order to draw any inferences. Neither is there anything running at the back of my mind when I see them. Instead, my mind is just blank & I keep watching fascinated, at the no. of expressions possible & which one each person chooses for different situations.

Another thing that's interesting to watch is the way people walk or rather how they look when you can only see their upper torso while they walk. I've noticed a person who just seems to glide by literally. I'm yet to be able to make out any shifting of weight as this person walks. It's almost like he moves on a skateboard. As a person too, this person comes across as a very calm, controlled, unfazed person who glides through situations. Then there are several people who tend to bob from side to side. This is a pretty normal sight. Some bob in a more exaggerated way while, some are more subtle.

Some walk by with a frown & keep touching & correcting their hair when they walk. Some sulk & walk. Some walk by like an ape (a little like what I'd imagine one of the latter forms of the primitive man to have walked like). Some stoop over. Some hobble. Some bob from side to side & sway front & back. Some walk & smile to themselves. Some walk in a purposeful, aggressive manner. Some swing by (if they'd held their hands up, I could almost imagine them as swinging from one branch to another like a monkey)

There are so many types actually & many a time, I fancy that the kind of person I perceive the person to be is reflected in their gait. Maybe, I'm just force fitting things here. Nonetheless, it's an interesting past-time at work... Watching people.

Musings...

There were a couple of things that I've been wanting to write about in the past few months but then I kept putting it off because I couldn't think of enough things to write about each of them. So today it occurred to me the best way to get the ideas out of my head would be to just compile those little thoughts together into one post. That way I could write as little about them as I wanted without having strange 5-line posts on my blog. So here goes...

a. It is so hard to BEGIN writing a post. The first few lines never seem to sound impressive & I'm never sure of how much of context to provide or what to say by means of explanation & when to stop. Given my tendency to ramble, that is certainly a concern. Also of concern is how my attention tends to waver in between. Come to think of it, it is hard to begin writing anything!

b. We (the so called 'youth) like to criticise soaps for their drama & unrealistic story lines. We (or maybe just I) are put off by the sobbing wives/daughters-in-law, the feuding families, the inter-familial rivalry, the break-ups, the getting back together, the re-births & the makeovers & post cosmetic surgery formations etc. But, the same fare dished up by reality shows is lapped up? We want the drama, every unbelievable, sickening bit of it so long as some (even though unknown) person can ratify it to be the true story of real people. As an aside, some of those real people come across as unbelievably mentally unstable. So for all our criticism of housewives who religiously tune into soaps, how are we with (with our advanced sense of voyeurism) any different? How's that for hypocrisy?

c. If Politics, Bollywood & Cricket were the top three topics of conversation for the average Indian; sickness would be next on the list. (Actually, even if they were not the favourite topics of conversation, sickness would still be a favourite topic!). And not just sickness of the self but also of our neighbours, friends siblings, parents, grandparents, spouses, in-laws, grand in-laws so on & so forth.

Such conversations typically entail detailed descriptions of the symptoms, methods of diagnosis, the listener's opinions on cures, recounting experiences of other people with similar ailments (usually, by the listener), discussions on the actual cures prescribed by the doctors & recommendations of other doctors who could be consulted.

d. People don't listen to what one says. They assume what the other person is about to say & hear only those parts that fall in line with their assumptions. And this whole complex process of guessing & 'hearing' is somehow accomplished in a fraction of a second!?!

That sort of rounds up things I can think of now... So that's 'The End' for this post now.

Free Falling...

“After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul, and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t mean security, and you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises, and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child, and you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans. After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much. So plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. And you learn that you really can endure… that you really are strong, and you really do have worth.” ~Veronica A. Shoffstall

Came across this quote on some one's Facebook page a while back. The quote is quite a 'feel-good' one but it was that one line about accepting defeats with the grace of an adult & not the grief of a child that I found resonance in & it's that one line that's been going on in my head which led to a number of other thoughts- Not connected but certainly related.

Firstly, the reason the line stuck was because I've been getting a lot of flak for behaving like a child at times. When I look at my actions or thoughts, it IS true & despite all my attempts to curb such responses & think rationally, my instinctive reactions are irrational. I'd rather react than understand, sulk than reason, live in denial than make a change, hide than confront.

Secondly, since reading this quote, there were some (separate) conversations with friends that got me thinking... How is it that the basic story in people's lives are the same? Our reaction to grief & disappointment is the same... We question our self worth!

"Why is this happening to me?"
"What am I lacking?"
"Why am I so imperfect?"
"Why do I make the same mistakes twice over?"
"Maybe, I deserve this..."
"Maybe everyhting happens for a reason..."
"Maybe there's something better in store..."

And that's the funny thing... We all think we're inferior to the rest of the world. So even though we might feel really crappy & look at others & envy their happiness, the truth is that everyone is just as vulnerable to being in the dumps & feeling like they lack something in them.

I'm realizing that women & relationships always seem to have the same outcome irrespective of the woman! Maybe it even applies to the men, but I don't know enough of that to comment.

Take any kind of woman... She could be the hopelessly romantic, thinks-with-the-heart, homely kinds or the brazen, no-nonsense, thinks-with-her-head kinds or she could be the anywhere- in-between kinds. Along comes a guy, and the differences in the kinds blur. Then there's just one kind: the woman in love kinds! And then, there comes a heartbreak... the differences blur again. Then again there's just one kind: The heart-broken woman who deals with insecurities. Wonders why her. Wonders about her (mostly, imagined) shortcomings. Wonders if she'd ever have her shot at true, long lasting love. And then, there are the friends for reassurance. And there is the little speech they give about how to forget & move on. How to love oneself & give our own selves priority & that love would follow (Much like the quote above, love yourself & grow your own garden of flowers rather than waiting for someone to love you & get you the flowers)

I'm not trying to sound cynical or mock anything or anyone here. However, what is catching my interest here is that we (women) all feel singular in our grief. When our heart breaks, we feel like we're bearing the brunt of the worst. But... the irony of it all is that somehow or the other all our lives are similar, our grieving process is the same, our insecurities are the same, our reassurances are the same & our faith & hope is also the same.

I guess the best is to wait till we've grown up some more & can look back & smile wisely, fondly (maybe, even ruefully) & nostalgically at what passed. Until then, I guess we keep going on & on, repeating our mistakes over & over again. Maybe, our mistakes don't teach us to be perfect. Maybe, they just teach us to be less imperfect the next time round...

A Life. Some City.

It's a coincidence but over the past few weeks, I've had a lot of people ask me the same question in different ways. How do I like living in Delhi, now that it's been a little over than a year? My answer is usually also different variants of the same... I'm used to it here & am not really looking to change.

To this, people who've been living in Delhi proudly murmur something about how people tend to fall in love with Delhi or how it's hard to leave Delhi once you've been here (Coincidentally, that's exactly what people living in Bombay say about Bombay).

People who don't live in Delhi usually berate me about being lazy & say Bombay is a much nicer place to be in.

I hear both sides with the same blankness. The fact of the matter is that I don't care about the place. For me, one is as good as the other.

I don't like Delhi for the heat & hot-headedness/misplaced aggression. I don't like Bombay for the fact that I feel like a rat in a horde of rats (what's the name for a group of rats anyway?) running helter-skelter to make space in a crowded city & for the monsoon-induced floods.

I like Delhi for the laid-backness & space. I like Bombay for the convenience, liveliness at odd hours & the beach by the night.

I also like Chennai for the beach; Ahmedabad for its budding city nature, mango juice at the red stalls & street food; Calcutta for it's street food; Hyderabad for Necklace Road & the lake; Munger for not being a city; Manipal for being over-run by students; Bangalore for the weather; Pondicherry for looking like a small colonial colony, etc etc...

And that's the point I'm trying to make. Each city has its own merits & demerits. When I left Chennai, I felt I had grown attached to the place. Now when I go back, it doesn't feel so familiar & welcome anymore. The point being that I am not attached to places... I'm attached to my life there. For me a city grows around the time I've spent there & the life I've lived there and not the other way around.

So what my previously stated attachments boil down to is that I like Bombay for my internship period. I also like Chennai for having lived there for a majority of my life; Ahmedabad for my time at MICA; Calcutta for it's street food (yes, still!) & for visits to my maternal family; Hyderabad for visits to my paternal family; Munger for spending 6 years of my life; Manipal for a week-long trip in Pooja's hostel room; Bangalore for hiding with Guinea inside a store because we saw a teacher of ours across the road (after having bunked a retreat at college with some cock & bull story); Pondicherry for a lovely drive with parents, etc etc...

Likewise for Delhi. I like it here for the friends I have, for the comfort of a home & for familiarity. But all of it could easily be recreated in a different place. Hence, I can't find myself connecting with people who feel almost patriotic towards the cities they've grown up in. What I can connect to are shared memories & reminiscing about the times gone.

Moving around is nice to get a feel a new things. However, self-initiating change isn't so nice. :)

Below is something that my Mom recently wrote (after a really long hiatus). I really liked it and so am putting it up.

Power is yours if you let it go
If you let it show
If you let it flow…
Just give it a start
With all of your heart
Give it your best shot
And it will never part
You've got the power
THE POWER THINK.

Did is a word of achievement
Won't is a word of retreat
Might is a word of bereavement
Can't is a word of defeat
Ought is a word of duty
Try is a word of the hour
Will is a word of beauty

CAN IS A WORD OF POWER.

Little Things Along The Way...

I'm not sure what this post will turn out to be, but when I started it, it was with the intention of trying to pen down the year that went by and the little things I learnt along the way...

Nothing is constant. Not circumstances. Not options. Not people. Not choices. Not friends. Not feelings. Not even change. They say "Death is the only constant".

Emotions can be treacherous... They betray even the best of intentions.

Going with the flow, instead of fighting it, has brought its share of advantages.

Restlessness is beginning to become second nature.

Re-discovered old friends who were there when needed. Some old friends became better friends. Some friends I began to understand better. Some began to understand me better. Some I've stopped trying to understand. Some grew distant. And some new-found friends felt like old friends.

Learnt from a friend to appreciate that I was indeed lucky to have parents like mine. Parents, whose presence, has allowed me to experiment with choices which may or may not be the best, but which allow me the opportunity to learn from them on my own terms. Thank you S. for that conversation a long time back and thank you Pa & Ma for letting me learn without feeling pressurised to show results.

It takes a lot of humility to try changing things. This I learnt from my sister who's shown a maturity far beyond her age in allowing things to affect her and then reacting upon them in a publicly visible way instead of pretending to be a tough cookie and not a 'sentimental fool.'

It is not important to know things. It is more important that people understand and know what you know. A friend recently pointed out that he wouldn't read what I'd written in my blog because he couldn't understand it. Though, the fact that he didn't seem to want to make the effort to read what I'd written did annoy me initially, his criticism was completely valid.

The amount of time you've known a person is not proportional to how well you know him/her.

People are difficult to understand. Men think women are complicated. Women would love a manual on how to understand men. Older people wish youngsters had their priorities more sorted. Youngsters wish older people would empathise more. Bosses think their juniors are shirking. Subordinates think their bosses are interfering... In short, mayhem!

Every second person can write. Every third wants to do their own thing (professionally) and among them, every second person wants to open a restaurant/bistro/cafe. :P
[Disclaimer: The statistics are not accurate, but to me they seem to be... :) ]

Nobody wants to be the first or the last... It seems to be the season of weddings now and this certainly is on my mind as much as it is on my friends'.

Hard as we may try, there are some mistakes that we cannot help but repeat.

When one has lost touch with a friend, it may not be because either has grown apart from the other. It may just be that both don't know how to break the silence beause they're afraid of how the other would react or what to expect. Each one would rather the other took the first step.

And finally, summing up with words from a song that's playing on the radio now, as I write...

"Old enough to look back at my mistakes
Young enough to look at my future and like what I see..."

A small world, indeed!

Sometime back, I read an article in TOI in their science section. The article was a little snippet on something called "monkey malaria," some new strain of malaria that, as the name suggests, was present in a particular species of monkeys and which has now been discovered to infect humans. Reading the article got me thinking about a couple of things.

Firstly, what's with the sudden spate of "animal-illnesses"? From bird flu to swine flu to now monkey malaria?!? Maybe, the world is no longer big enough for all of us. Maybe, co-habitation is utopian. Or, maybe people have just lost their minds. At any rate, this spate is rather amusing (as long as it isn't declared an epidemic)!

Secondly, for as long as I can remember, I've been socialised to believe that the field of medicine has advanced and this development is a good thing. Mortality rates are lower, diseases that were feared earlier (because they had no cure) are now curable and on the whole life expectancy has increased. But when I was reading this article, I wondered... Does development ever really happen? On the one hand, we've found ways to ward off illnesses and on the other we're faced with newer and newer ones. Maybe, our current developed society is not very different from that of our ancestors. Maybe, diseases also come in "ages". So like there was the Stone Age, Ice Age, Bronze Age etc., there is also a Small-Pox Age, Leprosy Age, Malaria Age and now, an "Animal-Illness" age!

In passing...

Yesteday, I spent my first all-nighter at work. It was also the first time in 6 months (since the time I passed out of college) or maybe more that I have been up the whole night (and day) and required to work. So it was momentous in a small way, but that’s not the point of this post. Among other things, my team-mates (which basically consisted of 2 other people) & I would lapse into conversations on various topics (not completely related to work) everytime we’d feel the need to take a break to stay awake and mentally alert. During one such conversation, one of my team-mates was talking about what Delhi meant to non-residents like him & I. And this was what was interesting. Since then, I have replayed that conversation in my head (once I had taken a nap and was in a better state to process things, of course) and realized how the same city can mean such different things for people with almost similar circumstances.

For him, Delhi was associated with freedom, booze and live-in relationships (among other things that I can’t quite remember at this moment). And he claimed this to be a generalization. Maybe it was in the social circles he was in. But what I found interesting is how none of the people in my acquaintance have come close to associating this city with similar things. In fact, for me personally, Delhi per se does not give me a sense of freedom. Of course, I have the freedom that comes with being away from home and being answerable only at a very macro level, but that would be in any place that was not my “home-city” or “home-cities” in my case. I am yet to get used to the fact that in this city my “freedom” is curbed by my self. For the first time, I have begun to consciously think and be aware of where I am going and at what time of the day and then consider how to get back. For instance, if I go for an evening show of a movie over the weekend with Tanvi & PK we always end up reminding ourselves of when the show is likely to end? Will we find autos at that time? Will the autos go to the places each of us have to go to? Is it safe to take an auto at that time of the day to that part of the city? And so on.

This, I find contrary to my concept of absolute “freedom”. Maybe it’s a trivial consideration and one can argue that the same is with any city, but atleast with all other cities you’re not psyched out and made to be wary long before you even reach the city. Having said that, I haven’t had an out and out unpleasant experience so far…touchwood. But still I just found it interesting to note how people could think so differently about the same place.

For me, Delhi is about comfort and taking a back seat and being lackadaisical. Unlike Bombay, I don’t get a sense of being rushed here. In Bombay, everyone seemed to be racing against time everywhere and at any point of time in the day. It was also a place where I kept feeling this innate need to constantly prove yourself. For me, it was a city that signified chaos and flux. Delhi, on the other hand, feels sedentary.
I am yet to understand why the association with booze & live-in relationships though. I was told that’s very prevalent in Noida. Unfortunately, the conversation was interrupted in between by some work that came up so never got around to figuring that one out. I guess it was one of those times when you mix with people different from your usual circle of friends and hear or discover something new.

Little things along the way...

Am writing something after a really, really long time. My return attempt can be attributed partly to my being ashamed at my irregularity. Partly, because I started reading other people’s blogs and felt tempted to write something of my own (as is usually the case), Partly, because of a friend’s chidings until I finally got a message in the morning reminding me to stop being such a lazy brat and write instead of just saying that I intended to. And finally, it is in part due to the fact that I have finally started feeling traces of my old self again, where I used to write to vent… something I didn’t quite feel like doing in the past couple of years. I’m not quite sure if the last reason is a good sign or bad, but what I do know is that it feels nice to have some semblance of a “talent” again. And I have something to say when my Dad asks me if I’ve written anything in recent times. So hopefully, this phase will continue.

Anyway, the idea behind this post being to put down random, little things that have occurred to me in the past few months… Apparently, I’ve had enough time to think about everything under the sun in the past few months… some bad, some good and some important. Getting back to the point, I just had these little realizations along the way that I felt like writing down.

I don’t think I will ever be career-minded at all. This might seem incongruous to the supposed perception of me. But I’ve realized that I really don’t want to make it big. I don’t want to run companies and I’m not ambitious. I don’t want to be part of the rat race and win awards and accolades. I don’t even want to become a specialist in my field or anything. What I do still (“still” being the operative word here, given my fickle-mindedness) want is to do something on my own. But more importantly, I want to do something that makes me happy and do it for as long as it makes me happy. Even if it means being home-bound. How would I know if it makes me happy? Well, I suppose it shouldn’t make me feel restless and question myself as to why the hell I am doing what I am. I guess that would be a good place to start. It may also be over simplistic.

I don’t want to become what all self-help gurus advocate. I don’t feel so bad that I don’t have clear-cut goals and a life plan charted out. I don’t even mind the fact that I might end up meandering about and changing my profession rather often knowing fully well that that might end up in a situation where I am a jack of all trades but a master of none. And I don’t want to be made to feel bad or be asked to explain and justify all my actions in the past either. So why I chose to do a certain course with no previous background or do a completely different course for my masters and then eventually use neither at work is not something that I want to consider very relevant or important. Maybe I’m just one of those non-ambitious people who like trying things out and never know what they really want to do till much later and I don’t feel apologetic about that.

I have serious issues with the terms “hurt” & ‘love”. For reasons that I can not explain, it is a mammoth effort for me to even consider using those terms in a sentence despite intending to mean them. It’s rather amusing and painfully obvious when I talk to my sister and hear her say “Love you” or “Miss you” but never say it back. Similarly, I almost never say I was hurt by something someone did/said. Either I say nothing about it at all or trivialize it by saying I felt bad about something which doesn’t quite match up in degree to using the term hurt. I know it’s weird, but then I guess we all have our oddities and this is one of mine.

I have great instincts for figuring out stories behind people. Maybe, I just am at the right place at the wrong time (or right time, depending on how one sees it) and almost always figure out important things that happen to people before I’m told about them. I guess part of the credit for this realization goes to my friend Siddhant who pointed out how I kept noticing things he never did even when we were in the same place at the same time with the same people, during our internship.

I’d noticed someone’s FB update say “Don’t act brand new to people who’ve been there for you.” The reason this stuck in my head was because I went through a phase where I needed to use people as sounding boards to be able to figure out what was going on in my head. And then (as on other occasions), I realized old friends are like warm comforters. I may have not been the best at keeping in touch (can’t say they were any better either :P) in the recent past, but still the time apart didn’t matter or seem to change my comfort level with any of them. I could just start right where I left from and I’m not sure whether that will happen with my friends from MICA too, but I can hope for the best. Also, it’s brilliant how well they know me to be able to say the most apt things to make me feel nicer… A couple of the things some of them told me, were not exactly what I’d expected to hear but they did the trick.

I am not embarrassed by the fact that I like chick-flicks or read the horoscope… typically “girly” things instead of doing more intellectual and less sappy things. I guess as long as I don’t take them to heart, I’m good to go.

A lot of times things don’t work out the way I’d like them to but they do work out conveniently and solve the issue at hand just as well. So either they help me finish what I have to do or get over things I’m likely to feel bad about. Of course, I still do hope for “happy endings”, if not now, then some other time, under some other circumstances. In the meanwhile, I’m glad for the “convenient endings”.

I like playing the Ostrich and not facing up to problems. One of several such being figuring out whether I like what I’m doing or not? If not, then what do I want to do? I’m happier distracting myself and shelving the issue in my head until I feel less emotionally involved with it or until the problem resolves itself out, whichever comes earlier. This is why I’m happy to have a lot of work and a long day at work. It’s a pity that doesn’t always happen when I want it to but instead happens when I’d rather it not (read: when I already have made plans with friends that need to be scrapped).

When things really get to me, I crave to go home and cuddle up with my dogs. It’s the only thing that makes me feel nice then. And it’s also why I miss being home home (different from missing being with my family).

It’s much easier to work with guys but it’s easier to be friends with women.

I always give long-winded explanations and too many details and usually to people who have no patience for them.

I don’t find monsoons and rainy weather as wistful or romantic as it is made out to be. Especially, during the in-between period when it neither rains nor is the sun out. I just find it gloomy and I get restless because then I’m not sure whether to venture out or not. Instead, I like storms better. Especially when I’m home (and not otherwise).

Kudos to you...

Had some free time because of some classes getting cancelled and all that. So took to reading everyone's blogs and ended up reading ALL the posts on each one's blogs. While reading, I was absolutely amazed at some of the stuff I read and many posts reminded me of stuff that I'd want to write about someday. So, this is to all those blogs and the people behind them... You guys are some of the best amateur writers I've come across!! What follows is a sort of acknowledgement/congratulation/am at a loss of words to describe it, to you guys and your blogs...

@ Tara/ Solacingrambles: I'm constantly amazed at the candid way you write. Loved the fact that after reading some of your posts, I felt normal once again and realised that many of my mood swings or weird quirks and insecurities etc were not mine alone! :) And some of your later posts where you come out in the open and talk on love, loss and life as it were, made me want to at least attempt to be more open myself via my posts! :)

@Parvathi/ Whatmeworries: I must admit that I've been secretly reading your blog for a while now and each time I'm completely blown apart by the poignancy and complexity hidden beneath the seeming simplicity of your writing. Hope you keep writing and I keep reading! :) Oh and I absolutelvLOVE the attitude and the way you went about your introduction! Also, your's is one of the most "technologically updated" blogs I'm yet to come across... I guess that's the Google effect eh? ;P

@ Krithika/Wittwit: This was the first time I read your blog and I couldn't stop myself from reading it all at one go and no, it took me more than 80 seconds! Loved your blog because it was so you! It was almost like I could hear you saying what you wrote on your posts! My favourite was "Welcome to Chennai where the cows eat hay and drive autorickshawa yevery deiiiiii !!!!!!"... I just loved the idea! Oh that's another thing, I love your titles and where did that vocabulary come from? Jesus woman, you seem to be on a roll with this stuff!!

@ Divs/ Placid Safari/ Rhapsody: You're definitely on my "regularly read blog" lists! I am just dying to plagiarise the way you make normal, ordinary incidents seem monumental and make them such an interesting read! Even if these incidents have nothing to do with me or anyone else who reads it, it just feels nice (I have run out of words to explain why I find this so nice!)... And I love your "Yours -----ly Signing Off". This remains my eternal favourite among what I thought were brilliant ideas you used in your blog! Oh and once I write this post and send a mail to you guys, you'll know where the inspiration to that "You find mention on my blog" mail is from! Divs, I have no idea how you do it, but you do a swell job of being regular with your blogging and replying to comments! Hats off to you for that! :)

@Tanvi/ Crisis Central: I enjoyed reading your blog because it kept reminding me of me! :) Finally, there's another person who's been irregular with their blogging!! Thank you for that and making me feel okay and normal about having urges to write mostly when I'm depressed or irritated. :)

@Arati/Namesake blog (:P): I'm quite intrigued by the way you roll in your "Dear Diary"-like posts with your short stories into one blog! And it all seems so natural. When I was reading the first few ( or should I say the last few given that those were written more recently), I could so imagine you chuckling in that characteristic way of yours. Am constantly surprised at how you always have this knack of finding subtle traces of humor in things most ordinary and daily life-like. I'm still sore about the fact that you managed to find a nice template while all I managed was some shady "Night Talks" like thing which kept making me feel like I was indulging in phone sex or something! *grimace*
@Priyanka/Iamsaul/ Content Warning: That idea of yours of putting a 'Content Warning' message is so brilliant and so typically and terribly you in so many ways that I can't even begin to describe! Woman... Stop trying to lose your "writing affinities"... Start writing!!! Even if it's only about Ms. Bernie and her labour of love- you! *cheeky grin*

'Fate' Reaffirmed

Had gone home (the Chennai one, that is) the past week for Diwali. The day I reached it was pouring. As usual, the city that would get flooded even if a frog were to cry was flooded with storming rivulets of sewage water (this I do not exaggerate, there WAS actually brown, muddy water gushing out onto the road, at several places ) and the annoying "work in progress" (for eons) flyover outside the airport was doing what it seems to have been constructed to do- holding up traffic. Anyway, as I mentioned, it was pouring in Chennai and continued to do so for a few days. And then miraculously, as Diwali day came along (both the South Indian/Tamilian one and the Rest of the country one), it just became sunny. This may seem an inane thing to write a post on but I just kept thinking just what a coincidence it was that everytime a festival or important function comes along, the weather just clears on it's own and it's perfect weather. Is it possible that everyone's collective prayers can change the tide? Maybe, maybe not. I'd like to believe it's an affirmation of the saying "Everything works out well in the end." To adapt a quote borrowed from the Alchemist, I'd like to believe that when (many people) want something bad enough, the whole universe conspires to let (them) achieve it. So here's one more for c0llective will! :)

P.S. Yes, I shall use that as an excuse to further my fatalist attitude toward all things 'important' in life!

Complicating Simplicity...

Often when people seem to land up in what seems to be a mess, they try and brush off explaining how they landed up ending in that mess in the first place. Their excuse- "It's too complicated... You won't understand."

Well, that may be a fair accusation to make, but recently, something prompted me to wonder if things always had to take on these mammoth, 'complicated' forms? The irony of it is that the 'thing' in question that actually prompted me to start wondering was in itself, quite trivial. After days of being swamped with work, I actually had a relatively free-er (if that's a word) day today. So decided to do some of the small things that I usually don't get around to doing when I'm 'busy'. One of them was to read a friend's blog (must admit, that I had received a subtle hint to do so a few days back). This was something that was long-due and this I realised by the number of new posts on his blog. While reading, I got so engrossed in the whole thing that I went to the extent of leaving comments on 3 of the 4 posts I read! Yes, I did not make them all nice and sugary... there was some "pixie-ishness" involved, but well... what would I be without these moments of mine?. Just as I was done writing one of the comments, this person came online and in my excitement of a job well done, I pinged him to let him know that I had read his blog and left a comment on it. And what followed is best explained through the reproduction of our conversation:

"Me: Reading your blog now. You've added quite a bit from the last time I read it...
Siddhant: wow, really?
me: Quite impressive, I say
Siddhant: yup... i feel so nice.."

This pretty much is the essence or the basis of what I wanted to write in this post. Most of us, me included, find it very easy to label a thing as being too complicated to explain, but in reality, we don't really want to try. We tend to forget that the beauty of life isn't in it's complications but in it's simplicities!

It's funny how something as innocuous as reading what someone wrote and writing a comment or making a 5 minute call or simply saying a "Hi!" to an old friend can make some one's day suddenly seem nicer (even though, only the fag end of the day is left). That's the irony of it! Something so simple and yet so... rarely done (if I may state it that way).

It's very much like what a prof. once described an "insight" to be. Obvious once pointed out of but barely realised when not. Well then if it's so simple to make someone feel nice, why do we not do it more often. Maybe, it's because we take so many things for granted. We're so caught up in the web of going the 'extra mile' and doing something special or extraordinary for the people we're fond of that we fail to do the small things. The trouble then is that without the small things in place, the 'big' things can't really fall in. This can best be described by the book's title "Small is beautiful," and beautiful it is indeed.

This may seem unconnected, but it's a thought that came into my mind while writing the last paragraph. Maybe, we like keeping things complicated. That probably explains why I turned a trivial, innocuous little statement ("You made my day") into such a philosophical (and at times, repetitive and redundant) spiel. Maybe... the true simplicity of a thing lies in how complicated it can be construed to be!

For old times' sake

This is something that Munchkin came up with nearly 2 years ago, when we got elected into the Union. She'd come up with this to add a humourous touch to all the rules that formed part of Stella's famous dress code, which we were supposed to re-relate (yes, that's not really a word but what do you call the action of relating rules that are restated at every year's GBM by every Union, so much so, that by the end of 3 years, the average Stella Marian would have heard it at least- and NOT on an average- 10 times over!) to the student body at our first GBM. When I first received this limerick-of-sorts as a message, I thought it was absolutely brilliant and another indication of Manisha's literary genius (the genius lies in the very simplicity and obviousness of it all!). Since, then the message has been permanently saved up on my cell phone, but lately I've been going on a cleaning spree to clear up memory space and since I was reluctant to delete this particular message, I figured I could save it up on the blog instead.

Mancha's Dress Code for Stella Marians

Tight is not right
Sleeveless is needless
Short is not hot
Lingerie are not for display

Don't know how many people in that batch would remember this, but this is one of my many remembrances of the times we had dealing with strict, set in stone rules and trying to justify them in the face of arguments that we, (the 6 of us in the Union) ourselves, would have put forth had we been on the other side.

Munchkin, if you ever read this... You were the best!!! Of all of us! And now I hope I don't get pulled up for such proclamations from the other 4! *cheeky grin*

And if any of you who ever read this, happen to have passed through "the hallowed portals of our alma mater", I'm sure this should bring back lots of memories of it's rules and our ways of skirting them! For those who haven't, but are from Chennai colleges, you'd still know the feeling! *beatific smile*

Parallel Realities

Have been meaning to write a post on my first impressions of Ahmedabad and whether it fit this whole image of a communally riddled Gujarat that we're made to believe. However as usual, I’ve been procrastinating. Now that the introduction is done, I might as well get down to jotting down some of my first impressions of this place…

The very first time I went around the city, I found myself thinking that maybe it was true that this place/state was a very Hindutva led state. After all, what else can one infer when one sees little temples sprouting up all over (they’ve even built a replica of Vaishno Devi’s Mandir, complete with a little- or rather, a miniature- hillock) and mammoth idols representing Shiva and other members of the Hindu pantheon as road decoration or at street intersections? In fact, one of my lasting impressions of this place would probably be seeing an armed man standing on the middle of a street, in broad daylight (12 p.m. to be more precise) , while VHP party workers put up party flags at a traffic crossing in the midst of a street market. Seeing armed men and undercurrents of violence is not new to me (thanks to my stay at Bihar), but in an ‘urban’, ‘cosmopolitan’ context, I must admit that it did get my attention.

Other things that I noticed about the place are how the Muslim areas and Hindu areas are so starkingly separated. The city consists of two parts- the old city and the new city. The old city is primarily occupied by Muslims while the new one sees a primarily Hindu population. The difference in the lay and feel of the two parts is quite striking. The new part is full of glitzy malls and broad roads, modern architecture and high rises. On the other hand, the old city consists of older architecture; broken down, ramshackled houses; small shops; narrow roads and a general feeling of neglect and a dull pallor. It’s almost like two parallel cities growing together but at a different pace. In that sense, a parallel may be drawn to Hyderabad.

To end this, the point here is the dynamics and the way a specific portion of the city is chosen to grow at a faster rate to promote the image of a progressing state while another seems to be shelved for the moment, to be pulled out later. But the question is when does this later become a now? Maybe I just wanted to notice signs to show that one section of the society was marginalized or maybe my inferences were a reality, but I’m not about to sit judgement on that.

A comeback attempt gone awry (sheepish look)

Writing a post after a really long time and I guess the credit for that would go to Divs & T for subconsciously making me want to write when I saw how regularly they updated their blogs. If either of you read this, let it be known that you guys are awesome! And I shall continue to dearly love your blogs- T for the way I can relate to what you write and Divs for always coming up with a topic or a perspective or a way of writing that's uncommon!

And now that the little Oscar-worthy gratitude speech ( T & Divs, I STILL meant what I said) is out of the way, I might as well get down to writing a post. For all those people I kept promising to write mails to, but which I'm yet to get down to doing [either because of lack of time or just plain old Ananya-ness (i.e., being lazy & procrastinating)], this is the first step in that direction. The actual mail with all the little ramblings and 'juicy' bits will hopefully follow soon! (hopeful smile)

For a while, I kept wondering what to write and then it was time for Diwali so figured I might as well write about my first Diwali away from home. Spent the last diwali on campus and while I was in the midst of the celebrations, a number of thoughts hit me at different points of time, so have decided to put some of them down. Not sure how much of an interesting read this would make later, but I guess it's a good way to break the non-writing hex.

So what was it like to celebrate Diwali away from home? A lot of people keep asking me if I was homesick or whether I've finally gotten used to the place and all that. This is something I'm yet to come to terms with. When I got here, I did fee the initial twinge of homesickness when my parents left, but since then have been quite happy here. I've never had this sudden longing to go home (except when I fell sick and missed my Mom or when I think of my dogs). I guess the fact that we're kept busy most of the time helps keep us occupied. But anyway, that's besides the point at this moment so shall stick to talking about Diwali.

For me Diwali started when I woke up that morning and went on a huge cleaning spree. For heaven's sake, I not only swept, mopped and dusted my room, I also washed the mats! And yes, I generally keep things neat and clean (much to poor Arati's- my roomie- relief), but this time I did go one step extra. And this is when the first thoughts of home hit me. At home, these things are just taken for granted. Now, I've never been much of a festival person. Every time I've just woken up and done what I'd been asked to. But, here for the first time I was responsible to myself for celebrating the festival and Diwali & Holi are usually big festivals at home. This would probably be one of those moments when I feel the independence. Usually, at home all I need to do is get ready in time in appropriate clothing, but here I actually found myself trying to remember what all my Mom does at home and trying to replicate it as best as I could. I went ahead and cleaned and made all those family calls (and anyone would vouch for the fact that I'm not too good at the keeping in touch bit and am not much of a phone person at all). But, for the first time I had to try and remember who all had to be called up and what to say to each of them without having to be reminded by my parents. And it felt good. This is when it struck me that (for me, at least) independence was not about learning how to spend money wisely or keeping accounts or making decisions. For me, I've felt more independent when I had to learn how to celebrate festivals even when I wasn't being monitored or supervised by anyone. It is about learning to deal with being sick with no one around. It is about getting over my fear of eating alone or travelling alone or shopping alone. It is about being as self sufficient as I could be. And trust me, for someone as undomesticated as me, it's been quite a learning experience. Right from figuring out which goes into the bucket first- detergent powder or water, to learning how to make transactions at the bank, to learning of what use is a paracetamol or when to take a Dependal-M, to learning to force myself to make the extra effort to keep in touch, to learning how to occupy myself in my free time, to learning how to fend for myself when I'm lost in an unknown city, to learning how to deal with people without losing my mercurial temper... it has all been one long pursuit of independence and growing up and well, it feels nice in many ways and not so nice in some others.

Coming back to the not-so-long-past Diwali day, a pooja was organised on campus in the evening. And that's when I found myself remembering the pooja at home, that would invariably start late (thanks to my Mom's penchant for always getting dressed late) only to be followed by a few sounds of protest from my Dad. And then a little heated argument between my Mom and me and/or my sister about how unfair and "inhuman" it was on my Mom's part to keep the dogs away from the pooja area and how antiquated and baseless we found the belief. Needless to say, my Mom would prevail and order would soon be restored and the pooja started. This would then be followed by a hurried lighting of all the diyas (and trust me, that usually takes a while given how we light the entire house and the outside facade) with diyas. And then of course would be the photo-shoot of sorts to admire our handiwork and then it would be time to receive guests. Now, a lot of this did not happen here. It was just a pooja followed by the bursting of crackers and then lighting diyas in my room and on the hostel's parapet. Still, it didn't feel so bad, perhaps because 20 years of celebrating Diwali had made me able to 'mentally' celebrate Diwali at home. The good thing about being orphaned and home-less was that I was more involved in the process of celebrating Diwali. The bad thing, however, was that I'd probably never get to see how our new house was decorated with diyas. I also missed seeing how the two additions to our households (the two little 'friendly' canines) reacted to the noise of the crackers and I missed being there to pacify a very petrified Scamper. I missed the food and the bonhomie and the spirit that would have prevailed at the dining table back at home. More than a thousand miles away, there are a lot of things that I've learnt, but also there are quite a few memories that I missed being a part of. And this is the point when I start feeling homesick. Having my neighbour play Parikrama's Open Skies doesn't do much to reduce the bitter sweet feeling.

And this is when it starts dawning, that I'd probably start getting weaned away from future memories. I'd no longer be part of pictures taken during Diwali or Holi or Durga Pooja. I'd no longer know of all the special meals they'd have had at home. And now, while writing this post (I know I've digressed from what I initially set out to write) I realize that more than anything I miss knowing what new thing my Mom bought. I miss knowing what my sister wore to her farewell. I miss knowing that I could vent my irritation or annoyance at home as opposed to having to act reasonably and trying not to lose my temper. I miss arguing with my Mom about her lack of punctuality. I miss not being responsible for myself. I miss being allowed the liberty to kick up a fuss or pout and sulk. I miss the comfort of my dogs. I miss being able to look into their eyes and knowing that they know when I'm truly feeling blue! I miss being able to look at my collection of books and re read the "right" book, when I feel this sudden longing to read Pride & Prejudice or Shobhaa De or Enid Blyton or any of the others. I miss discovering interesting sounding books in my parents' burgeoning and varied collection. And most of all, I miss being a family of four as opposed to being an independent unit. But then again, I'm learning... learning to deal with it all and learning to help others do so too. And thus, I'm learning to discover and to deal with uncertainty.

P.S. This has turned out to be a rather reminiscing, nostalgic post and not really what I intended it to be, but what the heck, it still reflects some of my thoughts that I might have come to terms with and realised only while writing this shockingly long post.

Getting oriented

Trriing! Thus…the sound of an alarm clock (that’s nearly fallen off the bed into the crevice between the bed and the wall) heralds the arrival of a new, disoriented-to-begin-with-day of orientation. The day then progresses with people peeping out, bleary eyed, dragging their way across corridors in order to get ready on time and make it to the mess in order to be able to “attempt” to wolf down something that could pass off as breakfast albeit, on some hitherto unknown planet. The presence of some astonishingly awake, fully dressed and cheery people who you bump into while sleep-walking the corridors does little to soothe those tense moments when you wonder if you'd ever make it to class before the 9 o'clock gong.

The rest of the day passes off in a blur (Literally! I have actually sat through classes with my eyes open and seen everything in multiples... 2 professors, 2 boards etc.) of classes. A typical day begins with finding the “right” place in class and by “right”; it has to fulfill all the criteria of being at the right distance from the air-conditioning and under the right tube-light (one that’s most likely to be switched off during PowerPoint presentations) and one that’s most likely to be excluded from the facilitator’s field of vision. And then… once the seat’s been conquered, comes the time to conquer other battles in the form of trying really hard to keep one’s eyes open and wondering which of the multiple images in one’s blurred, double vision is the actual image of the facilitator!

And once classes are done, begins the hunt for “novel” ways to beat the heat. This usually involves a round of Dumb Charades or card games or movies being screened (on laptops) on the lawns, while some rather pesky, curious frogs hop around and perform the ballet around the said laptop! These nocturnal rendezvous are usually followed by (post) midnight trips to Chhota or MICAfe(or Tongue Ticklers, as we're wont to calling it) that remind one of those midnight feasts described by Enid Blyton in her “Malory Towers” or “St. Clare’s” series. *reminisces the heavenly spreads described by Ms. Blyton... spreads that should only be read about. Once you actually sample them, the charm is completely lost!*

And then of course, no account of the orientation programme is complete without a mention of the hostel! In this regard, the policy to be followed is- The less said the better. Though, I can’t resist from mentioning how the flaking and falling roof that sends me little parcels every morning to remind me of it’s valuable contribution towards making my stay here ‘comfortable’ reminds me of how Chicken Little must have felt when he said “The sky is falling!” *come on, I'm sure everyone'll remember that*

Ooh and there are those famous French classes. All I have to say about them is that my Dumb C skills have vastly improved post those classes, even if my French hasn't! *impish grin*

I want to...

(Well, I've been jobless and been doing a lot of thinking lately (especially after a conversation with Nidhi, on the lack of imagination...BTW, Nidhi...I'm STILL yet to get that mail!), so I've kind of reached the brink of all rational thought! Lol. So this was my attempt at putting down some of my ACTUAL fantasies and not give some jazz of the boring, mundane stuff that I use in response to standard questions... And when you're done reading...please don't tell me I've lost it...I already know that. *cheeky grin*)

I want to...be one of those characters in Enid Blyton's "Faraway tree" series. I want to be able to slide down Moonface's tree and climb up the faraway tree and see all those lands that sit atop! *dreamy sigh*

I want to...write a book one day! Full of blasphemy & an imagination run wild. ( And no, not like Harry Potter!!!)

I want to...dance in the rain on a starry, moonlit night with no one watching [Hehe...I do have a thing for starry nights (no, not the Shobhaa De book, you dufus!)]

I want to...walk barefoot across the waterfront of (a clean) beach, feel the water lapping at my feet and the sand crumbling under and not bother about the ickiness later (And this is where the cleanliness freak in me kicks in!)

I want to...have a strawberry field (Yum!!!)

I want to...live in a world that's fully telepathic... one where people needn't bother getting down to using the verbal/written word (now, that probably would not be best for everyone, but still it would make things less complicated.)

I want to be...magical! (Lol...now I'm going back to talking in a cryptic tongue!)

I want to...fly in space and marvel at the speckled darkness (without all the odious trappings of a spacesuit and an oxygen cylinder etc.)

And the last thing I can think of...I want to...sit on a cliff facing a sea on a moonlit, starry night (yes, here we go again) and be lulled by the sound of the waves crashing and be made to feel humble by the sheer inconsequential-ism(okay, that's probably not a word, but still...) of myself.

The Journey

Times are changing
Dust storms are swirling by
The grains of sand
Covering our footprints left behind,
The impressions of our time spent together
Etched on the sands of time

But the memories of the journey remain-
The trials and tribulations
The quadrupled joy and the halved sorrow
Through the ups and downs of this roller coaster ride-
Watching life pass by
Like a shooting star...ephemeral yet, bright

The footprints are fading
They're getting covered with others
But the impression of the journey lives on
Life is change, but change is constant
And hence, the journey continues


Note: This was what I wrote on the album we made for Nitya as a going-away present. It has been tweaked a little and I got myself to put it up for all those people I knew (no, I still KNOW you all) here at home... I'm hoping this fulfils my senti quota :P... If you're expecting more tear laden melodrama, sorry, not happening! Took a herculean effort on my part to put this itself up in the first place!

The Lost Voice

Lost behind walls of sound
And raised objections
Belittled by reality's norms
And hidden behind social conformations
Another voice bites the dust...

Buried under the shrouds
Of expectation and unfulfilled dreams
The voice that once was...
...Now lay still...

But...feeble as it was
The voice persisted
It had a story to tell
A myth to fell
It had to rise from beneath the shrouds
And reach the pinnacle of success
It had to be...heard!