Tuesday, December 30, 2008

2008: the year that was

like most years, this year has had its share of highs and lows. overall, i think it was a decent year. not as melodramatic as last year, but not event-less (just invented the word).

january: i ended 07 and began 08 with a week long trip to rajasthan with a myriad of cousins, aunts, uncle and nephew, and my mom too. on december 31st 07/jan 1st 08, we happened to be in udaipur. a company which i had applied for internship offered me a full time job (and this company happened to be the best employer in 06 or 07) which i sadly had to reject. but it was a major self esteem boost nevertheless! the last week of january, i attended the training sessions for tele counselling at snehi; easily one of the bestest experiences of my life.

february: mostly taken up by snehi (super hectic, super crazy, emotionally veryyy draining, but totally worth it). there was also hostel night (where i won first prize for solo dance...thank you thank you) and my birthday- the first without any family member; but my friends were AWESOME to say the least.

march: PRACTICALS!!! the whole month was about finishing those idiotic practicals and submitting them. and the fear of the impending exams. oh and i also got through abacus for summer training- didn't know it then, but it was going to be a major life changing experience.

april: easily the worst month of the year. the worst exams i have EVER given in my life. each day was like living hell. but we got through it all (and with flying colours, but that's later).

may: exams OVER! went to bahrain!!! had an awesome 3 weeks, with cousins also coming over for the first week. started work at abacus.

june: ABACUS! 6 day weeks, getting accustomed to a real office, with work and responsibilities being given to you. utter madness; learnt to value all working women, especially my mom and my aunts who work, and manage their home with such grace and ease.

july: RESULTS came out! we all passed the most horrendous exams with marks which surpassed all our wildest dreams! then there was my first official trip! to jaipur with the abacus team. immensely exhausting, but an incredible experience.

august: EUROPE!!! amazing family reunion and sightseeing in poland and germany. totally totally rocked.

september: left abacus. and at the end of the month, left for bahrain (for the last time).

october: i was supposed to come back to delhi on the 19th, but by a fluke, my stay got postponed till the end of october. so the entire month was spent with the family. the best month of the year!

november: nothing much happened in november i guess, except pseudo-dissertation work and tons of presentations. but november ended with THE attack on mumbai; an event which cannot be forgotten easily.

december: started with another mini family reunion, got to see my second nephew (!). a marriage in the family was fixed- so the year promises to hold tons of excitement for that. i have never celebrated the new year without any family member; this year im bringing in the new year with a very dear friend, who i fondly refer to as my evil step twin.

many other events happened:
  1. shifting rooms in the hostel- hey it was big deal leaving my beloved room 103.
  2. my old roommate moving out (who i continue to miss).
  3. my new roommate(s)- so technically i have one roommate, but in reality, there are four of us in that room; the three people who i share the rambo room (long lame story) with, are people who i havent known long, but they are people who are now a very special part of my life.
  4. i decided what i wanted to do with my life! well its a tentative plan and there's a greatttt chance of it NOT working out, but hey- i decided something, that's big.
now that i look back at this year-end review, the year seems to have been a good year after all. as always, relationships have changed; some have strengthened, others have faded away. many memories have been formed- mostly good ones!

last year i had wished a peaceful and event-less year; 2009, i know, will be quite eventful- there's my brother's engagement in january (another family reunion), there's the dissertation to finish, there's MASTERS to finish- for the first time in my life, i dont know where im going to go in july; all the years in the past, its been school, college, then M.A., there's nowhere to go in 2009 (scary thought?!). my family's moving back in april and after three and a half years, ill finally be home. then there's the wedding in august, which is BIG.

there's much to look forward to in 2009 and i wish a veryyyyy HAPPY NEW YEAR 2009 EVERYONE!!! hope this year brings joy and happiness to everyone :)

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

inflation? or just bad luck?

right.

so apparently, you cannot dream of buying a decent, little fancy, suit piece for less than 2500 bucks these days in this city. and i used to think 2500 rupees is a hell of a lot of money.

but no.

if you go into a shop, whether in rohini, rani bagh, lajpat nagar, south ex (even NALLI), and say "budget is 2500, i want a moderately fancy suit material" the shop keepers look at you like you're from a different planet. my family members consider me very picky when it comes to choosing clothes. i dont think i am all that finicky. all i want is clothes with no paraphernalia attached to it, no feathers, no unnecessary oversized sequins, and no garish colours. is that too much to ask for? i think not. but apparently, such simple, yet elegant suits are now priced above 2500 bucks. the nalli guy tells me slyly "mam you cant get the kind of suit you want within 2500" and this is NALLI we're talking about.

i fail to understand what the problem is. is it within me? am i incapable of picking out clothes and taking decisions? are people around me lying when they say "i dont like anything here"; maybe they do like something and are just scared of me to try and convince me to buy something? is delhi just too overpriced? or is my budget too low? mind you, my initial plan was to spend max 2000 bucks. what a joke.

so like i was wondering; is it inflation, or just my sheer bad luck?

Monday, December 8, 2008

Bitter Chocolate- Revisited

This is a piece I wrote about two years ago, as catharsis. In the past 24 hours, two conversations have reminded me of CSA again, so it felt appropriate to put this piece up here.

****************

A teacher recommends three books in her class. The students take turns borrowing the books and share notes.

“So how was bitter chocolate?”

“Umm, depressing yet amazing…very well written…you should definitely read it.”

So I get the book and start reading it. The book begins with an author’s note which churns my stomach. Ok, its ok, just a book, I tell myself. Except that no one told me that it’s not JUST a book. Bitter chocolate is an experience, albeit a traumatic one at that, which makes your mind go totally haywire. But first, let me tell you about the book in much the same fashion as Pinki Virani, the author, writes it: dripping with facts.

Bitter chocolate is a book about child sexual abuse in India. It is divided into three notebooks. The first deals with what CSA is, the statistics and the effects of it. The second notebook gives two detailed case histories. Finally, the third notebook talks about the healing process, recovery of CSA victims and their families. The book is interspersed with several real life case histories.

The book ends with a list of books recommended by the author on CSA and related subjects, such as marital abuse. It also contains a small compilation of contact details of NGO’s working in the area of CSA, in the major Indian cities.

Now that the facts are over, let me come to the real thing- Bitter Chocolate was a harrowing experience for me, which shook my very soul. I was never ignorant to CSA/sexual abuse before reading the book: the countless OPRAH shows which I have watched on the subject will vouch for that.

But this was different. Very different. Perhaps it was the Indian context, perhaps the cold bloodedness of the hard facts or perhaps it was the sarcasm underlying every word in every page of the book; I don’t know.

But I know that I will never be the same again. I am seeing every human being in a new light, in a new perspective. Every male seems like a potential perpetrator of CSA. Looking at every woman and child makes me question: have they been sexually abused today? Or yesterday? Will they ever be sexually abused at any point in their lives? Oh leave aside strangers. I have started to doubt my family members, my friends, their families, neighbours and about countless people who I have ever known in my life: all of them seem like they hold some secret related to CSA….do they?

None of these emotions are in any way exaggerated or written for effect. Not even the fact that after I finished the first notebook, I stayed up all night crying inconsolably, questioning just about everything in this universe.

Would I recommend this book to anyone? OF COURSE and not just to anyone, but to everyone who cares to listen. To everyone who has ever loved and trusted. Essentially to everyone who knows how to read. It would be to create awareness, to make CSA a dining table conversation. But more than that, perhaps I would recommend it to people in hope, that someday, someone, somewhere would read it and find peace, even for a few minutes. Or better yet, prevent CSA from taking place.

Would I read it again? Or rather, do I have it in me to go through the whole ordeal again? Honestly, I don’t know and I can’t say.

So coming back to the question: how IS Bitter Chocolate? Simply put, an experience.

 ********************

Sunday, November 30, 2008

the rape of a country

a friend of mine asked me "have you been blogging recently (about the blasts)?" i shook my head and said "nope. everything i want to write, has already been echoed in many many forums, and how. so let's see."

i have read MUCH over the past week. anki's blog was one of the first blogs i read, and which truly touched me, for its simplicity. i have been following rahi's blog and adi's blog quite religiously over the past week. I wasn't brave enough to see the news for hours at a stretch, preferring to go to my beloved rediff.com for regular updates instead. i read the newspapers, read many a sad story of brave people and everyday Joes dying because some sick people decided to bomb Mumbai. 

There are many stories which broke me apart and tugged at my heart. Aashish Chaudhary's story. The story of a family friend's son's friend who went to Leopold for a coffee and died. The  IITian who was supposed to be married in a week to his college sweetheart and died on the spot at Leopold. Baby Moshe's story hurt tremendously, because right when I saw his cute little face on the television, oblivious to the fact that his parents will never come back again, I was playing with my seven month old nephew. The story of the Taj manager, who saved many, but whose wife and children perished in their suite. 

Children have been orphaned, parents have been left childless. People have lost their spouses and best friends. Lives have been ruined, scarred forever. It's a horror, a tragedy which surpasses 9/11. 

I am one of the lucky people, whose life hasnt changed much over the past week. A surge of emotions has come about, just like it did during the Delhi Blasts. There is immense anger at the politicians (i dont even want to start about them- this is the reason why im so apolitical and i declare all politicians chors.) I feel helpless at the idea that anyone can come and rip my country apart and all we can do is watch, because our leaders are too busy engaging in personal vendetta and minting money. I feel hatred towards the governments that have allowed terrorist camps to mushroom rapidly. I am tremendously sad, for all the people who have been hurt by this, directly or indirectly. I feel proud of the average people of my country; the policemen, the NSG commandos, the staff at the hotels, the people of the sikh community who tirelessly served food and drinks to the commandos; i salute the many nameless souls who will perhaps never get a mention for their deeds. It's people like these, who are the soul of this country and who are perhaps, the only hope left. 

I don't know how much good political resignations will do. I don't know whether these rallies that citizens across the country are organizing will be effective. I don't know whether these forwarded mails, appealing to everyone to mail their local MP and the PMO, will be worth anything. 

But i hope it all works. Let there be no more Baby Moshes.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Destiny's Child

My first memories of life are of the tiny, cramped infant ward of the orphanage where I spent the formative years of my life. I can remember the cries of the other infants, some for food, some for water…some for love. I remember being the only infant who never cried, whether it was for hunger or thirst, and definitely never for love. The doctors and nurses would often come and examine me, sometimes thrice a day, as they were worried about me. I loved the attention and basked in it. I liked the glory of being the ‘child-who-never-cried’. Even as I was growing up, I never talked to anyone, preferring to nod and shake my head instead. And I enjoyed the silent attention I got; the whispers, the gossip, the so called ‘theories’ of why I was the way I was. I preferred to be by myself, not depending on anyone for anything. Dependence, for me, meant weakness. So life resumed in a silent and orderly fashion until one day, fate decided to turn my perfect life around in the most unbelievable way possible. 

It was a Tuesday, I remember, and I was walking back from school, as usual preferring the uncommon route back to the orphanage. I must have been all of fifteen years old. As I was walking back, the plastic bag which had conscientiously held my books for three whole weeks started to tear, and finally let go. My books, adhering to the law of gravity, fell with a loud thud on the road. As I bent down to pick my books up, I heard snatches of what sounded like shouting in the otherwise lifeless street. My curiosity took over, and I walked towards where the sound was coming from. It seemed to originate from the other side of the cement well, I soon realized and kneeled down to look through the tiny space towards the side. A man was tied to an old rusty steel chair in every way possible and another man (looking very much like the innocent faced head of my orphanage) bent down and to my utmost horror, lifted a long shiny black knife, which positively glistened when the rays of the afternoon sun caressed it. Slowly, he started to stab the man repeatedly, in various parts of his body. With each stab, the man groaned and screamed, struggling to escape, to get away from this torture. But in a matter of few minutes, a tired moan ended the story. He was dead, I realized. And the killer started to laugh, a shrill yet confident laugh which haunts me to this date and comes back every time I…anyway, I ran; perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of wanting to escape the situation. So I ran, as fast as my legs could take me, to the orphanage and flopped down on my mattress. I closed my eyes and the entire incident replayed itself in my mind. As my mind dissected the incident I had just witnessed in various ways, to my utmost surprise, a smile, or rather a wide grin formed in my face, leaving no doubt in my mind that…that this was it. This was what I was destined to do. 

I started in the orphanage, giving the honour of being my first choice (victim has a very morbid ring to it) to one of my roommates. I did everything as I had witnessed it, with the exception that I gagged him. The moans and shouts went completely against my quiet demeanor. And it was carried out just as I had imagined. However, nothing could prepare me for that indescribable feeling of pleasure when the knife entered the soft flesh; my blood raced inside me and goosebumps formed all over my body. It gave me an immense high, greater than any drug can give man. It was intoxicating, the feeling of power, of giving the gift of death to unknown people, from all walks of life. Some were doctors, some writers, some businessmen and some average working people. But binding them all was me; I gave them the gift of death, the chance to live life again. And so it went on, till one day, destiny decided to catch hold of me and change my life again. I fell in love. 

She was ethereal, arresting me with her cognac eyes and pulling me towards her like a magnet. Everything about her was perfect. And all her perfections began to cause imperfections in me. I could no longer think of anything else, and my sleep was gone for good. I couldn’t gift anyone death for months altogether, which made me even more restless. For the first time in my life, I was hungry…for love, belonging and security. Until one day, it struck me that I couldn’t fight my destiny any longer. My destiny was to be the giver of death, and I couldn’t escape that. So I did what my instincts told me to do; I gifted death to my beloved. It was done like all the other times before, except that I didn’t gag her…I wanted to hear her voice. But when it was over, I didn’t feel powerful and I definitely didn’t feel proud. I felt hollow from inside, as if someone had ripped my insides from me. As I looked at her limp and lifeless body, tied to the steel chair, I felt something strange. I was crying, I realized. I wept and wept, for my lost love, for my destiny and for my growing hunger. 

From then on, no matter how hard I tried, no matter who or how many people I murdered, I couldn’t fill the emptiness inside me. Regardless of what I did, I could never go back to being the person I used to be before she entered my life. I wept often, thinking of who I might have become, had it not been for my destiny. I had turned into a serial killer, murdering innocent people and robbing their lives. I had become so engrossed in the power and attention that I had convinced myself that I was doing the right thing. I lost all connections to the world and became a wanderer, aimlessly passing from one place to another. There was no goal, no aim in my life, as days, months and years flew by, escalating the grief in me. Until one day, my destiny called me again. And I smiled, the same way I had years ago on the orphanage bed. I went back to the town and the street where it had all started, where destiny had called me for the first time. Except this time, I was on the other side of the cement wall. I sat on the steel chair and lifted my knife. I could see my own face, staring down at me and telling me that this was it. And suddenly, a smile began to form, as the knife slowly slid into my flesh…

 -September/October 2002

Thursday, November 13, 2008

My Place

I was walking in the soft silky sand.
Huge waves were crashing in the distance.
People were laughing, surfing and talking.
But I was alone. All alone.
I walked towards the water,
Looking in the distance.
It was big, so big,
That my problems seemed small.
When the cool water gently touched my toes,
I forgot everything,
My anxieties, my tears,
My hurt and my fears.
But as the water left me,
It all came back.
And I was alone. All alone. 

-9th April, 1999

Monday, November 10, 2008

November 10th, 2008

One of the best days in recent times! Not one, not two, but multiple good things are happening! Oh what a feeling!

a quick roundup of the happy things that are happening:

1) A friend's offer letter came!
2) My sanskriti blog post was recovered!
3) Another friend took a strong and long pending decision :)
4) Orkut/facebook/all blocked sites are unblocked!
5) Internship tension is going to be taken care of !
6) The general happy feeling due to the family moving back to india :)

What a day! What a feeling :)

Miracles do happen after all :)

would you believe it, i got the sanskriti post back! after resigning myself to the rotten luck i am often faced with, i was pleasantly shocked to get a mail from my now-official-life-saviour, saying "Is this the post that got deleted? Why can I still see it?" and sure enough, copied in that mail was the whole post. So apparently, if you see my blog from google reader, the post is very much intact (how, is completely beyond me) along with three versions of the "obama it is" post. Not that Im complaining...Im just thrilled at such an unexpected miracle :)

now althought this post is about school, and was earlier written with all the memories of school and my school friends in mind, this time around I dedicate it to my evil step twin, my life saviour and truly, my guardian angel, Ankita Sinha. She wanted me to write a post about her and how wonderfully important she is to my life (yeah she's not one of those modest kinds)...but all Ill say is that she's one of the best things that has happened to me, and she's one of the best friends anyone can ever wish for. She saved my life once before during 3rd year project time, has truly truly been there for me, and with me. Its only befitting that she got me my post back. So anki, this one's for you, with lots of love forever and ever.

***
One of my dear friends asked me this question "What does sanskriti mean to you?" Its a question i must have asked myself millions of times, since i left my alma mater, the place where i completed my school education. It's been four years since i left that place; at times it feels like another world, and at others, i can almost relive certain moments with the same intensity.

I told my friend that sanskriti was like my orientation session to delhi, to india, to how people my age are like. It made me see that indian schools are NOT like denobli school from hip hip hurray (i was utterly disappointed at that). The two years at sanskriti were like a crash course in the indian education system, rather the beloved CBSE. I learnt to memorize irrelevant information, write looooooonnnngggggg answers, really 'write' (which coming from an education system where we typed EVERYTHING was a BIG deal). I learnt how to make trial balances, balance sheets...and deal with failing unit tests and seeing marks like 65% and *sigh* 40% on my report card. i learnt the true meaning of sheer hard work, which was the reason that a failure in economics went to being a 96%er.

sanskriti is a 
beautiful school; for me it was love at first sight. i was coming from ISKL, malaysia which is perhaps one of the most beautiful schools in the world, so sanskriti seemed like a smaller, yet just as pretty, version of it. there are plenty of open spaces, and greenery, and mind you, it is VERY confusing; being geographically challenged till date, i couldnt find my way around the lesser frequented areas of the school till the end. my favourite places in the school? the ramp (the world's best place to gossip), the amphitheater (more on that later), the what-used-to-be 12 D classroom with the side pond, the balcony attached to the-then-11 D, the home science lab, the library (and the attached gossip room)...these are some of the places where my soul probably still lingers.

The two 
trips that i went on from sanskriti, were perhaps some of the best times of my life. Anjanisain, our compulsory trip to rural india, was a time of bonding. it was where some of my closest relationships and some of my BEST memories of life were formed; getting woken up on my first night (after travelling for close to 12 hours in a bus on rugged mountain roads) by samia, who wanted to the know the time (for god's sake!), the coughing which would begin in the girls' dorm the minute the lights were switched out, chatting with somya till well into midnight (we started talking just because we couldnt hear the others, but later developed our own before sleeping ritual of chit chatting), the boys singing aa bhi jaa (till date i cannot listen to that song objectively), teaching abhay "phatela jeb", shweta singing phatela jeb, the gossip sessions...for days, months and now years, the hangover remains.

Nahan was another party; it was a smaller trip, i personally LOVED the three tata sumos and i loved our big room, the biggest in fact. We got the suite, and were the subject of everyone's envy! Nahan to me is about FTV uncle, singing enrique's and boom's songs, the waterfall place (and the weird fights that happened!), pranima and neha teaching bedi and nakul how to dance under the night sky, saksham going from girl to girl flirting and bulbul screaming at nakul "he's flirting with your sister", and nakul screaming back "I cant hear...kya bol rahi hai???", the crazy ghost summoning games with the pencil, the card games, the skits we put up on the last night (my most vivid memory of that is of somya being the ever doting mother to neha), the morning trek on the last day, debjani mam correcting her eco papers with me and pranima staring at every paper and every mark, trying to convince her to be more lenient, the 20 of us fitting into two tata sumos on the way back, debjani mam telling nakul to shut up (and he did shut up till we reached school), our constant speculation on who was dating whom on the trip and finally deciding that it doesnt matter, as long as we have the gossip.

Sanskriti to me is also about the amazing 
teachers; Sanjukta mam, undoubtedly the best teacher i have ever come across, who was perhaps the best confluence of a teacher, friend and mother/elder sister figure, someone who has wisdom for every situation and every problem. She was the reason many of us did so well in our boards. She believed in our individuality, something which is so rare in a teacher. She's someone who i still have the utmost love and regard for. Ambika Mam, the strictest teacher. Im perhaps still scared of her, and would probably still shudder in her presence. but ill always respect her immensely for the way she transformed an eco failure into a 96%er. She never let me believe that i couldnt do it. Once after failing my unit test, i gathered up courage to go and talk to her about how i had studied and i dont know where i was going wrong. The way she spoke to me and the confidence she instilled in me, was heartwarming, and i remember going to school the day the results came out...and ambika mam was standing at the entrance and she hugged me ever so tightly when she saw me. To me, THAT is success. That's what sanskriti gave me.

sanskriti gave me some of my closest 
friends; i was lucky to have a great gang of friends in school and im still in touch with most of them, which i consider a huge achievement for all of us. we still know whats happening in everyone else's life, where everyone is, how everyone is doing. some of us are in constant touch, while with others, we talk once in a blue moon. my school friends are part of my security blanket; they are the people who have seen me grow up from a 15 year old 'phoren returned' to a 21 year old delhiite. there is immense comfort with each one of them, regardless of the nature of my relationship with them and whenever we meet, we're 16 again. 

the 
carnivals are the highlight of the year in sanskriti; particularly the jam session where we dance and dance and dance till they throw us out! the jam session traditionally ends with a song dedicated to the outgoing batch and the batch standing in the middle of the floor dancing one last time together. its the rituals like this which made sanskriti special.

songs maketh a sanskritian; at least they did in 'my' time. i associate many songs with school; 'flying on a jet plane', 'yaaron dosti', 'summer of 69', 'aa bhi jaa', enrique's 'hero', boom's 'mundiya toh bachke' the prominent ones. there's a story which perhaps explains this point best; many months after we passed out from school, i was at neha 1's place getting dressed to go to our awards ceremony at school where we were going to get awards for excellence in cbse. suddenly the radio blared 'yaaron dosti' and i shouted 'nehaaaaaaaaa'...and at that moment neha came running to the room and we looked at each other and grinned like idiots. neha's mom looked at us and later told my mom 'i thought only neha was like this...turns out, all of them are like this.'

I wasnt the most active person in terms of extra curriculars, but i was a proud member of the 
student council, as a member of the editorial board. That badge, with my name on it, is perhaps one of my most valuable possessions even after 4 years. I remember applying for student council, giving the interviews in ishwaran's room, getting selected in front of the whole school and standing on the amphitheater's stage, getting my badge on that very stage (one of my most favourite life moments). the 'leadership' camp which the council members attended where we stayed over in school for a night remains one of my best memories from student council; i remember himmat and saksham scaring everyone by randomly jumping from the dark; rishabh making fancy plans of coming to girls' room in the middle of the night to scare us, which eventually never happened, because he fell asleep (!); the constant infighting within my sub group and yet everyone saying that it was the best sub group EVER; the boys trying to climb up the walls of the amphi in the night and someone eventually succeeding...

that 
amphitheater is a very important place for a sanskritian; i got my certificate for excellence in psychology and elective english in 11th class on that stage. my citation ceremony, one of the most important moments of a sanskritian, was on that stage; where you stand with a diya on your hand, in front of your batchmates, your teachers and parents and listen to your principal speak the words which your class teacher has written JUST for you. i was one of the privileged few, who not only heard the words of her class teacher, but also the words of the principal, who spoke about me spontaneously. i went on that stage one last time in 2004 november, as a proud alumni, to collect a certificate and a prize for excellence in cbse.

i havent gone back since; i have heard that things have changed, and i saw the change happening when i was leaving school and on the few occasions i went back after i passed out. i dont feel the need to go back; i dont want to see new faces, new things in my school...and i most definitely do not want to be treated like an outsider. i go to sanskriti often in my thoughts, and in my mind, sanskriti will always be the place i left behind in 2004.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

The perils of multi-tasking

this is what happens when you are chatting, reading some article, listening to music AND editing your blog post; my sanskriti post got deleted! *sigh*...the one nostalgic piece i wrote, and it got deleted. AND i dont have any other copy of it. how dumb can a person be? and how rotten can my luck get? 


Friday, November 7, 2008

President Obama it is

Obama won! for someone as apolitical as I am, who doesnt support any Indian political party (coz i just dont like any of them), to be super excited and nervous before the AMERICAN elections is a b-i-g deal. I got interested in Obama, during the Obama/Hillary face off, and although a little part of me wanted Hillary to win that (hell, America needs a woman president!) i was nonetheless excited at the idea of America electing an African American to be their leader. But my support for Obama grew when I saw his opponent. McCain, as my cousin said "reminds me of our guys"...meaning he's just as old, just as negative...and just as 'political' as our lovely indian politicians. And the cherry on the cake was his choice of vice prez, Sarah Palin. Oh what a joke she was! I think she really put the nail on the coffin for McCain. All said and done, it was a heartwearming and heartrending victory for Barrack Hussein Obama, who i suspect will be a fantastic president for the most powerful country in the world.I wanted to put excerpts of his speech, but when I read the entire thing to sift out the 'interesting' parts, I realized that in its entirety, the speech is brilliant. so here it is ladies and gentlemen, President Barack Obama's victory speech:

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference.

It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled – Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of Red States and Blue States: we are, and always will be, the United States of America.

It’s the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

It’s been a long time coming, but tonight, because of what we did on this day, in this election, at this defining moment, change has come to America.

I just received a very gracious call from Senator McCain. He fought long and hard in this campaign, and he’s fought even longer and harder for the country he loves. He has endured sacrifices for America that most of us cannot begin to imagine, and we are better off for the service rendered by this brave and selfless leader. I congratulate him and Governor Palin for all they have achieved, and I look forward to working with them to renew this nation’s promise in the months ahead.

I want to thank my partner in this journey, a man who campaigned from his heart and spoke for the men and women he grew up with on the streets of Scranton and rode with on that train home to Delaware, the Vice President-elect of the United States, Joe Biden.

I would not be standing here tonight without the unyielding support of my best friend for the last sixteen years, the rock of our family and the love of my life, our nation’s next First Lady, Michelle Obama. Sasha and Malia, I love you both so much, and you have earned the new puppy that’s coming with us to the White House. And while she’s no longer with us, I know my grandmother is watching, along with the family that made me who I am. I miss them tonight, and know that my debt to them is beyond measure.

To my campaign manager David Plouffe, my chief strategist David Axelrod, and the best campaign team ever assembled in the history of politics – you made this happen, and I am forever grateful for what you’ve sacrificed to get it done.

But above all, I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to – it belongs to you.

I was never the likeliest candidate for this office. We didn’t start with much money or many endorsements. Our campaign was not hatched in the halls of Washington – it began in the backyards of Des Moines and the living rooms of Concord and the front porches of Charleston.

It was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation’s apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory.

I know you didn’t do this just to win an election and I know you didn’t do it for me. You did it because you understand the enormity of the task that lies ahead. For even as we celebrate tonight, we know the challenges that tomorrow will bring are the greatest of our lifetime – two wars, a planet in peril, the worst financial crisis in a century. Even as we stand here tonight, we know there are brave Americans waking up in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan to risk their lives for us. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after their children fall asleep and wonder how they’ll make the mortgage, or pay their doctor’s bills, or save enough for college. There is new energy to harness and new jobs to be created; new schools to build and threats to meet and alliances to repair.

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America – I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you – we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won’t agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can’t solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it’s been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years – block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek – it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you.

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it’s that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers – in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

Let us resist the temptation to fall back on the same partisanship and pettiness and immaturity that has poisoned our politics for so long. Let us remember that it was a man from this state who first carried the banner of the Republican Party to the White House – a party founded on the values of self-reliance, individual liberty, and national unity. Those are values we all share, and while the Democratic Party has won a great victory tonight, we do so with a measure of humility and determination to heal the divides that have held back our progress. As Lincoln said to a nation far more divided than ours, “We are not enemies, but friends…though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection.” And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn – I may not have won your vote, but I hear your voices, I need your help, and I will be your President too.

And to all those watching tonight from beyond our shores, from parliaments and palaces to those who are huddled around radios in the forgotten corners of our world – our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared, and a new dawn of American leadership is at hand. To those who would tear this world down – we will defeat you. To those who seek peace and security – we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright – tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.

For that is the true genius of America – that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

This election had many firsts and many stories that will be told for generations. But one that’s on my mind tonight is about a woman who cast her ballot in Atlanta. She’s a lot like the millions of others who stood in line to make their voice heard in this election except for one thing – Ann Nixon Cooper is 106 years old.

She was born just a generation past slavery; a time when there were no cars on the road or planes in the sky; when someone like her couldn’t vote for two reasons – because she was a woman and because of the color of her skin.

And tonight, I think about all that she’s seen throughout her century in America – the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can’t, and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes we can.

At a time when women’s voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes we can.

When there was despair in the dust bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma, and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that “We Shall Overcome.” Yes we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen, and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves – if our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time – to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth – that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people 

Yes We Can. Thank you, God Bless you, and May God Bless the United States of America

Brilliant isnt it?!

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

*random post from old blog*

Life is paradoxical, strange. There are moments where you are so overwhelmed with joy and happiness that your eyes well up and you just cannot control your tears. And there are moments when you are so engulfed in grief and in sadness, that you just cannot help but laugh out loud. The people who are part of the happiest moments of your life, are also responsible for some of the worst moments. You hate those who have really done you no bad with such vengeance, and passionately love those who have never done you much good. When people come to you, you push them away and when they go away, you want them back. 

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

6. MORE. MONTHS.

6 months left of this. 6 months of living out of suitcases, of living in hostel, of studying in DU, of going to relatives' for weekends. 6 months of skyping/gmailing/offlining with mom. 6 more months of student life. This is starting to sound like SRK's 'sattar minute' dialogue from chak de india. But these 6 months are crucial. i need to remain sane, and get the hell outta it safe and sound. i need to give 5 papers, submit one dissertation and one field report. none of it seems the least bit inviting. till now, its been sheer denial. i have procrastinated beyond belief. but these coming 6 months, cannot be about procrastination. they have to be about work, work work work work.

the end of these 6 months looks very inviting. if things go according to plan. if i get to do the things im planning on doing. it will be my 'time off'; possibly the first time such a phenomena will take place in my life.

the distant future looks tremendously amazing. but the present....ooooohhhhh boy!

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Dissertation Dilemmas

*Dissertation*. The dreaded word of the year. A sort of rite of passage which all us MA Final Years have to go through before we are pronounced "Masters in Applied Psychology" (though what we have mastered is still quite a debatable issue!)

I do NOT like this.

I went through a miniature version of dissertation, quaintly titled "project" in my final year of graduation. And it was to put it simply, quite hellish (the people who were around me at that time, would probably nod their heads very very very strongly to that). In hindsight, it was as much a cakewalk as a research can ever be. I had the best guide possible (with her penchant for perfections, which i got thoroughly bugged at by the end of it all), a topic i was passionate to the core about, no major mishaps/loss of data (though a really scary false alarm did come my way and made my life miserable for close to 12 hours), my data collection had been done on time...yet what probably killed me by the end of it was the numerous drafts, the reading, re-reading, re-re-re-reading of the multiple drafts, the combining of all the different chapters, the formatting, the proofreading, the feeling of 'its NEVER gonna end'. but end it did...and till date, the 'project' remains my life's greatest achievement, something i still feel the utmost pride for.

THIS time around...things are different. MUCH different. I do not have a topic im truly passionate about, though to give it credit, i quite like it and find it mildly interesting. I could live with it. But passion???? i think i gave up passion after 3rd year, perhaps it died after college. I have two guides, but they wont be like preeti mam and literally spoon feed things to me. They'll be there to (hopefully) give me direction, tell me where Im going wrong...but I know they wont be the kind of support preeti mam was, they wont share the excitement with the same passion as preeti mam.

the biggest anxiety is perhaps the fact that i KNOW how stressful its going to get. Not just from personal experience of the 'project', but also from doing pseudo dissertations last year (courtesy my lovely seniors). I KNOW how horrible its going to be.

but then again, there is absolutely NOTHING i can do. except decide on my topic. and then find a way to love it. and work my butt off to produce that dissertation.

Oh Lord, help me.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

of europe, family and doing very 'not-me' things

so back from europe. it was f-a-n-t-a-s-t-i-c, as expected. after this trip, i think i can conclude that europe is about world history and culture lessons, along with a treat for the eyes.the last time i went to europe, circa 2001, it was the visual treat part. i dont remember much culture or history then. we saw tons of places, which were all very lovely and beautiful and we oohed and aahed over all the lovely locales of switzerland (truly jannat), the hustle bustle of paris, the calmness of brussels but the life in the 'grand place' there, the flatness, the windmills and the picture book quality of hague, the castles of prague, the churches of germany..europe 2001 was a visual treat.

europe 2008 (rather poland and berlin 08) was also a visual treat, but it was also a world history/culture lesson. there were places which were visually just so appealing, one felt like capturing it all forever. the mountains of the south of poland, the sand dunes at leba (pronounced weba...dont get me started on the polish language), the baltic sea (aah, a true piscean i shall always remain at heart).

THEN...there was auschwitz, one of the largest concentration camps during Hitler's regime. The two hours there was enough to really understand what world war 2 was all about, what the jews went through. i dont want to put words to that experience, coz any words i use will never do justice to what i felt during those 2 hours. i think those 2 hours will haunt me in some way throughout my life...BUT, its one of those experiences which you are thankful for, and which makes one feel so humbled and thankful to whoever is responsible for deciding our fates...we are really very lucky individuals.

there was berlin, which again was a history lesson in itself, what with us visiting the German parliament Reichstag where the entire Hitler regime and the east/west berlin division and subsequent merging was reprised with pictures; then there was checkpoint charlie, the official immigration point between east/west berlin...there was a quite a dose of world war 2 during this trip.

apart from the world history lessons, there was something else very unique to this trip; me doing very 'not me' things; like going on a roller coaster at full speed out of my own free will, and not once but TWICE- it was one of those things where one could choose their own speed(!); the trek up to zakopane with the brothers- im NOT one of those sporty, adventurous types...so that was BIG; the super fast motor boat ride (a HUGE adrenaline rush!);running like a maniac in the rain and getting seriously drenched; watching BATMAN (lol...THAT was big!)...there were sooooooo many fun things i did during this trip...i felt like a kid again; rather, i did things which i had never done as a kid.

the family bonding was also very special. for a family which has very few members in india, and the rest all spread over the continents, 8 people being together for 10 days is BIG...what is very special is that everyone has their own lives now, everyone is busy...yet there are these trips which just come up and which turn out to be successes (read super fun!) because we all love spending time with each other; whether its a day trip to agra, a week's trip to rajasthan or a 15 day european sojourn...the family manages to have the time of their lives...which is what makes my family just so incredible!

so im all happy after the trip...and im back to the grind of delhi life. the classes-office routine is on and the coming yr seems to be looking quite grim...best of luck to myself and my fellow sufferers!

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

internship- highs and lows

its officially been 3 weeks (and 2 days) at work and i feel like i have never known a life except this. in this time, i have been praised to the fullest and treated like the next literary jewel after say Shakespeare. i have been bogged down with work, rushing to meet deadlines. i have been taken to itc maurya sheraton for a meeting (undoubtedly one of the most surreal moments of my life) i have been equally vella, totally jobless and god bless yahoomail, its the only thing that works in my 'dabba' of a pc (i swear, after so many years of being spoiled by updated computers, this one seems like a relic of the bygone era). currently i am on my jobless mode; half my office has gone out of town on a project and the half which is here is absolutely out of work. i hate being jobless; i mean sure its fun emailing my mother and my equally jobless step twin, and its good timepass to read random blogs and filmi gossip...BUT...it does reach a saturation point. im sure i have reached that. i hope i can get started on my project tomorrow; at least make some sense of it. i cannot tolerate 3 jobless days in a row.

a bit about my office; a quaint and warm little place, tucked in the middle of rajouri garden, it's a world of its own. with the majority of people being psychologists (and the others behaving just the same), you can very well imagine that the place is brimming with insanity. works for me, because 6 years of psychology has made me feel at home amidst such madness. the people are interesting; intelligent, smart, underrated, warm and friendly, with a tremendously ADULT sense of humour, and strange habits (a penchant for supari being one of the prominent ones)...lol. there are a few things which i find unnerving and scary...and just NOT right about the place, but i wont go into that here. as an intern, i am a part of the organization, yet not really. so im a participant observer. whatever it is, im sure when i leave this place next year (assuming i last that long) it will be with a truckload of learning, about work...AND about life.

work here is interesting. its the kind of work you think you would end up doing once you have studied psychology. so not really disappointing in that respect. maybe because im in a small organization, which by the way, i like. i like the small-ness of the place, the homeliness, the fact that we know everyone in the office, the group lunches. but the concept of work itself is disillusioning. i do not like the private sector, something i realized on my 3rd day of work. i dont like the idea of putting in my efforts, so that some random already multibillionnaire can make more money. recently, when i was in bahrain, i went to my dad's office for work and while i was waiting for something, my dad showed me things he had done in bahrain in the past 3 years; including increasing the salary of labourers by 15 dinars (1500 rupees) per month, arranging the return of people who were otherwise unable to go back to india due to heavy fines imposed by the local authorities, and much more. there was so much pride in what he had done, and as his daughter, i felt so proud. will i ever feel that kind of pride for myself? i really hope i can. which is why, i will probably need to rethink career decisions, for the millionth time in my 21 year old existence; im sure even when im 60 years old, i will be thinking of what to do next...lol...

p.s.: this post contained some not so nice details about my office...but after a remark by creyzeee, it was decided to remove those portions. god bless u creyzeee!

Thursday, January 24, 2008

The way I see it

Blue gates.
A wrought iron swing.
Yellow railings along a ramp.
Cobblestone building.
Assorted newspapers arranged neatly in the guardhouse.
Blue doors.
Worn out leave books.
A sea of posters and notifications merging together on the notice board.
Long queue of coloured buckets under geysers.
Clanging plates and spoons in the mess.
Multicoloured, circular chairs and left over decorations in the common room.
Shouting during cricket matches, reality shows, meetings, mealtimes, attendance…
Just shouting.
Running to be on time for mealtimes, attendance, baths, classes…everything.
Would-be doctorates rubbing shoulders with fresh college graduates.
The insane and the intellectuals,
The control freaks and the lazy bums,
The ones from the North, South, East and West,
And everywhere else.
The ones who scream and the ones who are quiet.
The best roomies,
And the irritating ones too.
All co-existing…sometimes peacefully, sometimes not.
Clothes along the railings and balconies.
Birthday wishes at midnight.
Messy rooms,
Neat rooms,
Spic-n-span rooms.
Laughing uncontrollably for hours.
Sudden power cuts.
Running across floors to share an inconsequential incident.
Borrowing scissors, ribbons, scotch tape, pots & pans, mugs, plates, spoons, buckets, books, clothes, shoes, jewellery, mattresses, blankets…
EVERYTHING…except perhaps toothbrushes and underwear.

THIS is our world…the way I see it.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

THE KITE RUNNER

i used to be a hardcore fiction reader, i abhorred non fiction with a passion, and i was convinced that i would NEVER read non fiction, for as long as I lived. Ironically, I hardly ever read fiction anymore- save the random Danielle Steele novel which i find hanging around. In fact, i hardly really read anymore, except for newspapers, and books like 'Im ok- you're ok', 'the iitians' and 'Bitter chocolate'. Don't get me wrong- i enjoy that today, i have learnt a lot from these books and others of their ilk. i have moved beyond the sidney sheldons and the john grishams. So i sort of surprised myself when i, on the spur of the moment, decided to read 'the kite runner'- a book i had heard a LOT about, and which i had often told myself that i want to read. All i knew about the book before i began reading, was the little bit that i read in the backcover, and a friend's reaction that it was amazing.

little did i know that it would be a book that seems like it would live in me for a lifetime. A book which touched every chord, every emotion in my heart. a book which pulled at every heartstring and gave me the 'choked throat' feeling countless times.

the kite runner is a brilliant commentary on friendship, loyalty, changing times, war, afghanistan, freedom, father-son bond, master-servant relationship, and above all, finding peace. a simple story, told with even greater simplicity, it is a book which is dramatic, but never melodramatic. its a book of life altering moments, about regret and ultimately, redemption. it is delightfully cute in parts, scary in others...and yes, tragic in others as well.anything more i say about the book, will perhaps reduce it to the 'scenes' and the 'dialogues'. i dont want to do that. i think its a book to be read, and not to be told or heard about.

personally,i am so glad that this was the book which i chose to end my hiatus with. thank you mr. khaled hosseini...for you, a thousand times over.