Words...and more

The year that was

2011-12-30T17:44:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's 31st December again. Time to reminisce, recollect, revise the past 364 days. Before I started writing this post, I went over this one from last year, and I was struck by how different 'I' seem. It seems as if eons have passed, and the 'me' of today, is a mere shadow of the 'me' of 2010.

2011- OMG. What.A.Year. If 2010 could be classified in one word as a kickass year, 2011 can only be classified as a life changing year. It was a year of heartbreak, disappointments, failures, unexpected sorrows. It was a year of travelling alone- the mindblowing Bombay trip, and the gorgeous trip to Vaishno Devi. It was the year where the BlackBerry entered my life, cemented old friendships, rekindled others, and changed life, along with playing a key role in the most important relationship of the year (and now, of life). It was, hands down, a year of friends- their presence and involvement in every single small and big event of the year is undisputed. It was a year of coincidences, of worlds being small, of chance encounters, and of destiny reiterating its strong presence over and over again. It was the year where life changed forever, and I can safely say, nothing will ever be the same again- in a good way of course :)

It was a year where highs and lows walked hand in hand, perhaps to remind me at every step, that this is what life is all about. As the year ends, I am at a personal high- it's a good time to be me. But some of the people I love are going through personal lows, and somewhere, their pain keeps me from being uninhibitedly happy.

2012 was always going to be an important year. It's the year I will turn silver, the year I complete a decade of being in Delhi. Now, along with these things, it will be the year where the biggest life event is going to take place- something which was nowhere in the life plans at the beginning of the year. Just goes to show that life actually does happen, while you're busy planning it.

Good bye 2011- you have been difficult, disastrous, disappointing at times, and immensely joyous and surprising at others. You will always be remembered, with tears for the rough patches, and a huge smile for the happy events.

Welcome 2012- let's see what you've got in hold for us.

Happy New Year people!

Do naina, aur ek kahani

2011-09-26T22:14:00.000-07:00

My first eye test happened when I was barely 10 years old, the reason behind which is subject to some debate. As far as I was concerned, I went to the eye doctor because I had a small cyst in my right eye. Many years later, the mother told me that my dance teacher had told my father to get my eyes checked, because apparently I was exhibiting signs of less-than-normal vision during classes. I remember howling after coming home post the eye-exam, and instantly picking up a book and shouting"Hey I can read just fine!"

My first pair of glasses was a quintessentially nerdy pair- big brown plastic frames, which covered my whole face in a sense. I loved that pair, and somehow believed that they were the coolest thing existing on the planet (once a nerd-at-heart, always a nerd-at-heart). I remember walking into school on the first day of 6th grade wearing them, nervous about what my friends would say. And I distinctly remember one girl saying "Really? You never had glasses before? I always thought you wore them!" I just had one of those faces I was told. I hated removing my glasses even for a few minutes, which I was subjected to often, being a dancer and having to perform on stage ever so often (and a mother who was baffled that her daughter was bespectacled).

I got contact lenses when I was 15. The first time I wore lenses, I kept thinking that they would fall off! Initially wearing them would be a herculean task (umm...not that they got any better, but I just got more used to the process). And for the first two years, I was very irregular with them. Contact lenses scored over glasses on some counts- you had a holistic vision, they didn't fog up when you got out of an air-conditioned car, and you could actually see the rain. Not to mention, the whole aesthetics of it. But you couldn't sleep with your contacts (without getting a headache that is), and god save you if you got something in your eye. Actually, my worst contact lens experience involved me cutting green chillies, washing my hands over and over again, and still having burning eyes when wearing the lenses hourssss later.
Bottom line: I was never much of a contact lens person. I never wore them unless absolutely necessary, and most certainly never while loitering around home. I was never the kind of girl who would balk at the idea of people seeing her with glasses.

So life continued, between the glasses and the lenses. Many people suggested laser eye surgery, and while the idea was very appealing, I never really put much thought into it. Primarily because I was always studying, I always had exams, and basically never had much time at my disposal to go through a surgery, and follow the myriad of precautions which I was told the surgery entails.
That was until a few months ago. After much pondering (and procrastinating) I finally got an appointment with an eye institute two weeks ago, just to see what the fuss was all about. After three hours of testing, and dilated pupils, the doctor told me that my eyes were perfect for the surgery- when would I like to have it? An appointment was scheduled for the week after, and the countdown began. I kept harping about my 'surgery', freaking out only hours before the event when I saw how nervous the parents were.

I wont go into the details of the actual surgery- which are actually imprinted in my brain for life- coz its difficult to put into words the intense fear, and nervousness I experienced for those 25 minutes (the most nerve-wracking time frame of my life). I was numb when I was taken out of the operation room, partly because of the fact that strange things had been done to my eyes- but more so because despite those strange things, my vision was perfect, albeit a tad hazy. It was like I was suddenly wearing a pair of dirty contact lenses. When the parents came to see me with solemn faces, and a pair of dark glasses, I was trembling when narrating what had happened inside that dreaded operation theatre, all the while saying "You know, I can see you both clearly". It was all very surreal- especially for someone whose longest time in a hospital has been the root canal the day after the 24th bday, and the cavity filling at age 10.

The day after the surgery, was the first time in 14 years that I reached for my glasses first thing in the morning, and realized that I no longer needed them. It was the first time that I woke up with clear vision. Surreal? Check.
No its not all hunky dory. The first week, I had to wear a pair of dark glasses 24/7- yes, even while sleeping, which was just the biggest pain e.v.e.r. Not to mention the endless eye drops I was (and still am) subjected to. And the fact that I can't wash my eyes/face, or that my vision is still stabilizing (I'm always nervous about less than perfect sight- aren't we all?!)

But it's still not sunk in that I don't have to wear glasses or lenses anymore. For the latter, I would just say "good riddance". I guess I will miss the former in a strange way. Glasses always worked to make me look more intelligent than I am (!) But more than that, it's like letting go of a part of my identity.

Thus, here goes, a pictorial ode to the tools of vision I was so dependent on for the past 14 years.

Through exams, dissertations, projects. Through performances and parties. In sadness and in joy, in sickness and in health. Good bye old friends. In a way befitting your place in my life, I will forever be grateful to you.

And finally, a few words from the song from which I lifted the title of this post. Perhaps these define the thin line between my old vision and my new vision best.

थोड़ी सी है जानी हुयी थोड़ी सी नयी।  
जहा रुके आंसू वही पूरी हो गयी।  
है तो नयी
फिर भी हैं पुरानी।  
दो नैना और एक कहानी 
थोडा सा बादल
थोडा सा पानी
और एक कहानी।

Bombay times!

2011-08-04T20:07:00.000-07:00

I first visited Bombay at the age of 16, for a cousin's wedding, way back in 2003. Up until then, I was somewhat fascinated by the city, owing to my love affair with Bollywood (Yes I was weird back then- still am actually- but I grew up abroad, gimme some leeway!). I had also heard that Bombay was a lot like New York City, and I l.o.v.e NYC, like l.o.v.e. So in a sense, I was always prepared to love the city. And it didn't disappoint me. We did very touristy things back then, did the usual darshan of Siddhi Vinayak and Mahalakshmi, went to the beaches, had vada pao, did the open bus ride around Gateway in the night (lovely btw), saw the Queen's necklace, went by the local train even.

Last week, I visited Bombay for the third time (my second trip was a brief transit visit) I had been planning this trip for a long time, as a break from the insanity which my life had come to represent for the past so many months. For a long time, it was just a hypothetical situation, existing only in my head. But as all the madness in my life (weddings, thesis, exams) started to diminish, I knew I deserved and needed a break. And Bombay was perfect. Plus I got to see two of my closest friends in the world, who I usually don't get to see very often. So after much deliberation, much planning, many doubts ("what if this happens while I'm gone?") and a not-very-happy set of parents later, my tickets to Mumbai were booked.

I didn't go to Bombay with any expectations, all I wanted was a break from Delhi, from the usual monotony of life. But whatever little expectations I might have had, they were surpassed- and HOW. In every which way. Like the Bandra-Worli sea link. I fell so deeply in love with the sea link that I insisted on going on it regardless of whether it was required or not, which led to some pretty pricey cab rides- but so totally worth it. The fact that it was raining like all-the-time while I was there, resulted in the sea being a tad rough, and thus an absolute beauty to see from the sea link.

Oh-so-gorgeous :)

I stayed at Carter Road, which I was told, and later saw, was one of the posh-est areas in all of Bombay. My dear friend P, has a beautiful cosy flat there, and it was a privilege to stay there with her for four whole days (she's written a lovely blog post about her house, which can be read here) The post doesn't do justice to the loveliness of the house, home rather, but she has done a better job than I ever could. The bestest thing about P's house was that the Carter Road promenade, a sort of a walking track along the sea-side (seriously, how awesome is that?) is a stone's throw away. My first morning, we went for a walk, and came back all drenched- fantasy experience for me, since the only thing I had been getting drenched in in recent times was sweat. During my stay, I was a regular at the place, and spent hours just walking, looking at the sea.

Imagine seeing that every morning *sigh*

And then there was my most favourite part of Bombay, Marine Drive. Oh, how I could kill for an hour at Marine Drive, every time that I want some 'me-time'. The first time I went to Marine Drive was during a very heavy downpour, and P made me get out of the cab with a measly umbrella and made me stand there looking at the sea, so I could 'enjoy' it. I was drenched by the end of it, but how totally I had fallen for the place. So much so, that I went back to Marine Drive on my remaining two days, just to sit there, looking at the vast expanse of the sea. The experience of just staring at the sea, of the waves crashing and hitting you with droplets of water was something which I can probably never ever put in words. It was magic- truly magic.

Favouritest e.v.e.r

Bombay had one other thing which I absolutely loved, especially because I had never ever experienced it in my life- safety. I have spent 9 years in Delhi, and a majority of these years have been spent travelling about the city on my own, at all kinds of hours, in all modes of transportation. And I have never ever felt as safe in my own city in all these years, as I did during my 4 day stay in Bombay. I went around the city on my own in autos, and taxis, without a care, without a worry. It was so strange, and so awesome. I wish I lived in a city like that, I wish Delhi was half as safe as Bombay felt.

Then there were the people. P and I have been friends for 9 years. She has known me since I was 15, and has seen me through many successes, and many disappointments, and life in general. Yet, this was the first time that we were spending so much time together, since school. And it was wonderful to be able to spend that kind of time, and space with one of your closest friends. She was a fabulous host, planning my days perfectly, taking me to all her favourite places, and making sure that I cover everything there was to cover. She motivated me to get out of the house and explore the city on my own, all the while calling or BBMing every few minutes to check on me. She balanced my trip with her super-hectic office hours, and never once let the smile leave her face, except for when she made horrid faces while I was thanking her. So one last time P, thank you- you made the trip a HUGE success, and you are right, I do have a home in Bombay :)
Then there was A, who I refer to as "the sister". She's someone with whom my closeness can't really be defined, and with whom my relationship is one of the most solid things in life. She got married recently, and I wasn't there :( but luckily, I got to meet and spend some wonderful time with her- talking, listening to her words of wisdom, catching up on life, gossiping, bitching about the people we know and don't know. She came early in the morning on the day I was leaving to say good bye- and she's NOT a morning person. I even got to meet her absolutely wonderful better half, one of the few people in this whole wide world who I liked instantly (the fact that he's Tam-Brahm had nothing to do with this btw), and it was so heartwarming to see a couple who are so real, so honest and so wonderful.

The trip was one which was away from my comfort zone in many ways. It was my first ever trip alone, without family, without an itinerary, where I was in charge, I decided what I wanted to do, what I wanted to eat, where I wanted to go, or not go, or go again and again. I met people who are so unlike me, or anyone who I usually hang out with, who come from very different worlds. Maybe that's why the trip was so fabulous, and so different.

While having breakfast on my second morning with the sister and her husband, when I casually mentioned that I quite like Bombay, the sister immediately snapped back and said "Don't stay at Carter and tell me that you like this city. Go by the local train, live the Bombay life, and then tell me you like the city". It's true what she said. In my four days, I was just a tourist. And from the little I saw of life in Bombay, it's a goddamn struggle, in every which way. But despite all this, despite the fact that perhaps living in Bombay is very different, I had the time of my life.

Bombay is not the city of my birth, or the city I stay in. It is not a place where my memories are, or where my life's biggest events have happened. I don't have family there, nor any childhood experiences. I didn't study or work there. In a sense, I have no emotional connect with the city. Yet, there's something about the city which has always intrigued me. And having spent four days in the city, and a considerable amount of time exploring it on my own, my intrigue hasnt diminished. Its a city which I loved and disliked in parts, a city which fascinated me in the things I liked, and the ones I didn't.

It's difficult to verbalize what Bombay represents to me, as of this moment. But for now, lets just say that the Bombay trip of July/August 2011 was out-of-this-world awesome. In every which way :)

Re-search anyone?

2011-07-23T20:08:00.000-07:00

I actually started writing this piece way back in july/august, but somehow never got around to finishing it. Perhaps it was meant to be posted now, which is of course the most apt time :)

Over the course of my 'higher education' career, I have had the (mis)fortune (take whichever you think would be apt) of having done three research projects. I was one of the 8 people in my undergraduate class of 30 to take up a research project as an optional, in exchange of the good ole' practicals. Mad our classmates called us then, but till date, it remains one of the most fulfilling, fun and pride-inducing experiences of my life. Perhaps, the only such experience of my life. In masters, it was compulsory. The less said about my masters thesis the better. In fact, the less said about my masters, in terms of 'academic' activities, the better. And then came M.Phil...where they taught us how to carry out research in the first year, and gave the entire second year to submit a dissertation.

Its been quite a relationship I have had with the whole concept of research; very 'love-hate', for want of a more fitting term. And now, since I'm done with M.Phil (yayieee!) I consider myself somewhat of an authority on research. Yes, I am extremely immodest like that! Ok maybe not an authority, but I deem it fit that I am in a position to share my own personal experiences from the past 5 years of submitting theses/dissertations.

So here goes; my wisdom/accumulated knowledge in matters of research. Highly debatable, highly arguable. But its all true. At least for me.

#1- The first thesis is always special. Always. And it's the most honest. 'Coz you have no goddamn idea how its going to turn out- its all very 'trial by fire'. By the time you come to your second thesis, you become very practical. You formulate hypotheses, and conclusions in your head, as soon as the topic is decided. You start worrying about the tools you'll use, and subconsciously choose topics where you know data collection will not be a huge hassle. And by the time the third thesis happens, the whole process becomes somewhat mechanical. You don't put your soul as much, as you did the first time. Things don't affect you as deeply, whether the little joys or the disappointments. Very much like life, this move from the ideal to the practical.

#2- Data collection is always a test of your social/networking skills. I am not known to be much of an extrovert, and can almost border being an introvert/pseudo-snob when it comes to talking to new people. But fortunately, my three experiences with data collection have seen me surpass my own standards with flying colours. My first time, I interviewed 16 families across Bahrain. I spoke to absolutely unknown people, visited their homes, managed to give them enough confidence to have them share their personal experiences with me. My second time, I put my cousins on the job, and grilled them till they made all their friends/colleagues fill out my questionnaires. My third time, I used every bit of my facebook skills and contacted people who I perhaps would never have spoken to, save the perfunctory "happy bday!" message.

#3- Related to #2. Data collection is always a humbling experience. Always. I always feel overwhelmed when rank strangers, people I barely know, help me out. I know what a pain it is to fill out questionnaires, even if it takes 5 minutes. I mean, we've all shoo-ed away those people outside shopping centers and malls who hang around with surveys. During my first thesis, people gave me hours of their precious weekends. Many of them knew my parents personally, but to give that much time and energy to an undergrad student? And that too with smiling faces and open hearts? Big deal! During my second thesis, there were some people who were so genuinely happy to help, and even sent an "all the best" along with their filled response sheets. And my third thesis? Classmate's roommate's friend. School batchmates' friends. Random person I know's cousin. Friend's boyfriend's friend. Friend's classmates from summer school. Most of them absolute strangers, people I will probably never ever see in my life. Not just the people who filled out the questionnaires, there were those who really went out of their to help, to ensure that my data was complete. Some were my closest friends, people I expect the world of. But some were people I hadn't spoken to in ages. In a world of cynicism, if there's anything which can make one believe in the sheer goodness of human beings, it is the experience of data collection.

#4- There will always be drama. In some form or the other. Files vanishing from the cd checked a thousand times- circa 2007. the first thesis. lesson learnt- rewritable cds are rooobish. but then again, that's when I discovered pen drives. Or it could be giving data to be a 'famed' SPSS expert for analysis, only to discover the week before submission that nothing has been done about it- circa 2009. the second thesis. lesson learnt- learn SPSS! it's the easier software EVER. It could also be a multitude of things- two cousins getting married within 2 weeks of each other, 15 days before submission. Or you being over-smart and joining civil services coaching classes to kill time, not knowing that the prelims is just a month before submission. Genius that.

#5- You never feel like you have put in your 100%. The most you'll feel is "Given the circumstances, I guess this is the most I could do." But there will never ever be the satisfaction that you have given it your all. And when you go through it sometime later, many moons after you have submitted, you will notice the millions of flaws. "There was supposed to be a comma there!", "This was supposed to have a 'the', instead of an 'a'!" "What a loooong sentence!" Let alone the other two, but this happened even when I was submitting my first thesis- the one I consider my best, most honest work.

#6-There will be tantrums/outbursts/impatience/crying bouts/headaches/neckaches/backaches/eyeaches. No matter how many dissertations you do, these are a part of the package. It will always be a stressful experience. Maybe the frequency may differ. Maybe your way of getting over the little tantrums may get better. Maybe your way of understanding why you're being so impatient about silly things will get better. But these are gonna be there. Always.

#7- Talking to people who know exactly what it is that you're doing is MUCH easier than talking to those who simply ask "Kitna ho gaya?" I for one, have no patience with the second lot of people. Over the years, I have learned to avoid being around such people during dissertations, especially around submission time. It's easier telling people that you can't think of implications of your research, or that your hypothesis is messed up, than telling them "Umm...i don't know when it'll be final". I wish it weren't that way, but it is.

#8- The decision to finally print (and eventually bind) the thesis is always a tough one. Doesn't matter how sure you are that this is it, and you can't go through the entire thing again, and you really don't care how it is anymore. Doesn't matter that you just want it to be over. It's the most 'final' decision you will ever take with respect to the thesis. Because once it's done, its DONE. No going back. No turning back. Finito. *yikes*!

#9- No matter how many dissertations you do, your heart will always skip a beat or two, when you see the final result. Even though you know that you have written a lot of rubbish inside, the sight of the beautifully bound pages, with your name printed in bold letters on the front cover, is something else.

#10- There is a certain joy in deleting all the drafts from your laptop, knowing that the backups, backups of backups, will not be required anymore. All that is required is the final product, which will sit starred in your inbox, waiting to be downloaded, the next time you do a thesis.

Too long? Don't blame me- I am going to submit a 100 page M.Phil dissertation tomorrow :)

A Brief History of Time

2011-06-12T06:32:00.000-07:00

So since I havent blogged in a while, and since now is the perfect time to break that self-imposed/writer's block imposed break, I am back! Traveller tagged me for this post, and since I loved the way the whole thing seemed to give perspective, here it is.

20 years ago I . . .
1. Became a big sister
2. Lived in Dhaka and could speak Bengali fluently
3. Thought if you break the tv screen, people would walk out.

10 years ago I . . .
1. Lived in a big house atop a mini-hill in tropical Malaysia, and wanted nothing more than to get out of the place.
2. Was a trained classical dancer.
3. Travelled across Europe with the extended family.

5 years ago I . . .
1. Read Bitter Chocolate, and truly started to believe in child sexual abuse.
2. Interviewed about 65 NRIs for my undergrad project, and had the time of my life (while driving self, family and friends c.r.a.z.y)
3. Went to Dubai, and decided that I am essentially a big city girl at heart.

3 years ago I . . .
1. Worked as a tele-counsellor for kids who were about to give their board exams
2. Was doing my internship (my first real job)
3. Travelled to Poland and Germany with the extended family

1 year ago I . . .
1. Was living in JNU
2. Gave the NET exam (happy ending!)
3. Was learning how to drive (happy ending part 2!)

So far this year I . . .
1. Turned 24 (Yuck!)
2. Feel a little smarter
3. Begged and pleaded the whole wide world, and managed to complete data collection for my M.Phil thesis in record time (brownie points to facebook, gmail and cyber space in its entirety)

Yesterday I . . .
1. Spent unhealthy amounts of time facebooking.
2. Helped decide the menu for the cousin's wedding reception.
3. Felt extremely relieved (most of you know why!)

Today I . . .
1. Watched 8 episodes of HIMYM.
2. Slept like a log.
3. Helped the sister finalize her accessories for the upcoming weddings.

Tomorrow I will . . .
1. Hopefully do some work for the dreaded dissertation.
2. Hopefully clear the mess that is my room.
3. Most probably spent unhealthy amounts of time facebooking.

In the next year I will . . .
1. Turn 25 (super yuck!)
2. Hopefully start working.
3. Update this blog more often.

So this was fun :) I tag ALL the people who keep a blog to do this...its fun guys!

कुछ ग़म सिर्फ अपने होते हैं

2011-04-11T09:19:00.000-07:00

कुछ ग़म सिर्फ अपने होते हैं।
छल्ली हो जाती है आत्मा
दिखती है तोह सिर्फ एक मुसकुराहट।
कुछ आंसूं सिर्फ अपने होते हैं।
चेहरे पर शिकन की एक लकीर नहीं
पर दिल के सौ टुकड़े बिखर जाते हैं।
कुछ दर्द सिर्फ अपने होते हैं।
मरहम लगाती है दुनिया
पर घाव गहरे होते रहते।
कुछ ज़ख्म सिर्फ अपने होते हैं।
हर पल सदियों सा लगता है
पर घडी के कांटे रुक रुक कर चलते हैं।

कुछ ग़म सिर्फ अपने होते हैं।

(one of those pieces of my writing which entered my mind well-formed- miracle indeed! don't judge my hindi- i have officially learnt it only till 4th!)

From March 2003 to April 2nd, 2011

2011-04-03T20:07:00.000-07:00

***Disclaimer- this is veryyyyy long***

March 2003- 11th grade exams had just gotten over. It was the first World Cup I was seeing in full consciousness (vague memories of the 96' India-Pakistan match were somewhere in the back of the mind) India was to play Pakistan in the group stages. I was very excited and made everyone dress in blue for the occasion, and dressed myself in an orange kurta, white salwar, green chunni and bangles to match. The Pakistani innings was a blur of runs. I remember a feeling of gloom settle in during the break before the Indians were to bat. I remember Sehwag practically killing the famed Pak bowlers, and then getting out. I remember Sachin hitting Shoaib Akhtar for boundary after boundary, and the image of Wasim Akram clapping his hands, inspite of himself, at the beauty of Tendulkar's batting. I remember how happy the Pakis were when Sachin got out. And I remember how happy India was when we finally beat them. What.a.match.
The quarters and the semis are a big blur now...but that World Cup final will forever haunt me. I remember all of us gathered at my aunt's place, the boys in sahara india t-shirts, and me in my tricolour outfit. That first over when Zaheer Khan handed over 18 runs to the Aussies- heart breaking. I don't think I saw that match in its entirety, but it was a very upsetting experience. And I hoped some day, some World Cup final would be different.

2007- I honestly don't remember watching a single match of that World Cup. Maybe it was the time difference, maybe because it happened at a time when I was too caught up in my own life/studies to bother about the men in blue. Looking back, I am glad. 2003 was tough enough, but the baggage of 2 world cups would have been difficult to carry.
But I remember the 2007 T20 victory, and how awesome it was. And how much fun it was to win a World Cup...the format notwithstanding.

2011- It had been 8 years since 2003. I wasn't 16 anymore, thus wasnt as "carry my heart on my sleeve" with respect to cricket. The fun of cricket had somehow faded, what with some match or series or tour happening ALL the time. I saw the group matches off and on, and got irritated by how difficult every win seemed to be. "Does this look like a team which could win the Cup?", the mother constantly asked. No, was the reply from every person. I saw South Africa beat India in the group stages, and wonder when our bowling would finally win us matches.
It was only when India was due to play Australia, that I started paying close attention. But I didn't watch the match in entirety. It was only the 2nd half of the Indian innings which I saw ball-by-ball. The brother refused to let me get up from my seat at the back of the room, and it was only when we needed 4 runs to win, that I came near the television screen, and shouted when we finally won. We had beaten the Aussies, and we were going to face our archrivals in the semis.
I missed the first innings of the semis too. I was tempted to sit at home, but partly out of superstition (since I missed the first innings of the India-Australia match) I went out. I wanted India to beat Pakistan, for tradition's sake, if not for the Cup. And beat it did. A fantastic match by every account, it justified every bit of the hype it had generated for the past week. Our bowlers did an awesome job (imagine no extra till the 37th over!) and good ole' misbah got out when trying to hit a six, a la T20 final 07. Sheer awesomeness. Pakistan was defeated. We had attained nirvana- we could lose the cup and still be a happy lot of people.

The run up to the finals was insane. The media hype was unprecedented. Records were quoted every second, and the importance of this match was stressed upon- how a host country had never won the Cup at home, how it was Tendulkar's home ground and how wonderful it would be to see him make that 100th ton. How we hadn't won a cup in 28 years. Madness. I wanted to run out of the house for the first innings, out of superstition. What if I saw the whole match and India lost? Did I want to take that chance? But at the end moment, I couldn't bring myself to miss the first innings. This was the finals- it deserved my full and complete attention! By coincidence, I was wearing a green tee and blue jeans...and was tempted to throw an orange chunni over it- but I stopped myself when memories of another world cup final when I had dressed to the occasion came rushing back. "Don't do so much drama...be nonchalant- that's how we'll win" the mother said. Fair enough, I thought.
The Sri Lankan innings started off pretty well. Wickets weren't falling as often as we would have liked, but the runs were less. Awesome awesome fielding and bowling (Sree's stupidity notwithstanding) It was only in the last five overs that heartbreak happened. And then it was over. India had to make 275 to win. 5.5 per over.
And then India came to bat. And Sehwag got out in the 2nd ball. Tragic. And then Tendulkar got out at 18. Wankhede, and all of India fell silent. The two star batsmen gone. Was the Cup gone as well? "Sri Lanka has the cup", said the father. My hopes fell and my heart sunk. It was excruciating to see each ball after that. And when Kohli got out, hopes which had started to rise a tad bit, fell deep into an abyss once more. When Dhoni walked in, the father said "Why is he here?" He hadnt made more than 34 runs in the entire series- would this match be different? Ball after ball was bowled, runs were made, close calls occurred. It was T.E.N.S.E.
The who's who of India was watching- the richest, the most powerful, the most glamourous. But it was an event which made every single human being watching an equal. It didn't matter whether you were sitting in the VIP box, or the normal stands, or watching it in your home, or listening to the radio. Ranbir Kapoor wore the same Sahara India t-shirt which your average Mumbaikar was wearing. Nita Ambani had her head in her hands, Aamir Khan refused to let the frown leave his face. Rajnikanth looked solemn. These were people who had everything, the world at their feet, the power over their own destiny and the money to buy whatever they wanted- but that day, they were at the mercy of the men-in-blue.
Slowly slowly the runs were getting made. But the cup seemed very distant. At one point the mother (who was relegated to the back of the room, since it was 'lucky') said "Everyone said Pakistan should be beaten. They said the final doesn't matter." But it did! It so did!
The brother remained expressionless through the match, the father kept trying to sleep but couldn't catch a single wink. I tried to ease the moment with my star gazing "Look Shashi Tharoor! Look Rahul Gandhi!" But I could just as well have been talking to the walls. It was only when we needed 87 to win from 88 balls, did the brother say his first words in god knows how long.
When Gambhir went out for 97 (heartbreaking), and Dhoni made his 50- a nation felt their pain and joy, but was still waiting to see the result. Will we celebrate at the end of the night or go to sleep in a state of sadness?
As the gap between the runs and balls decreased, increased, decreased and increased, over after over, emotions were on a roller coaster. We were afraid to hope, afraid to jinx the good luck. It was only when 6 were needed from 11 balls, that the sound of a cracker being burst in the vicinity was heard. And when Dhoni hit that six, the brother started shouting, and I crossed my fingers, hoping against hope that it wasn't a catch...it was only when the mother finally got up from her seat and hugged us, did I realize what had happened- WE HAD WON THE WORLD CUP!!! The fireworks started in abundance, the tv screen was a haze of visuals- yuvi and bhajji had tears in their eyes, sachin had the biggest smile on his face...and dhoni, oh dhoni, had a strange look of peace on his stoic face.
I can watch those visuals again and again, for the rest of my life- dhoni's eyes focused on the ball as he hit the six, not an inkling of a smile on his face and that huge grin when yuvraj hugged him, tendulkar being carried around the field- tricolour wrapped around his shoulders, kohli saying "he's carried the burden of the country for 21 years, it was time for us to carry him", zaheer khan saying "we did it for this special man standing here", the boys hugging each other over and over again, gary kirsten standing up the moment dhoni hit the six- hands up in the air, that pure unadulterated joy on each face in Wankhede...and on the faces of each individual in the world who rooted for the men in blue.
I have no words to explain what it feels like. As Tendulkar said "This cup doesn't belong to the 15 of us. It belongs to the whole nation" So so true. There is a certain pride on every face on the roads, a certain feeling of accomplishment. It was a collective victory for all of us, the rarest of rare occasion when practically every Indian was on the same side. Watching the highlights gives me goosebumps, seeing the photo of Tendulkar holding the cup- gateway of India in the background chokes my throat. I am not a die-hard cricket fan, but I am an Indian- and this one was for every Indian.

I am so glad the people born post 1983 have their own set of world cup memories now. I wrote this looooong post, because I never ever want to forget this World Cup. I want to hang on to every memory, because it all adds up to the happiness that I felt when Dhoni hit that six. I feel proud of the fact that years done the line, I will tell people about this match and say "Arrey, I saw the whole match when India won the Cup in 2011- it was brilliant!" This one, is my World Cup.

Repeat of "AND INDIA WINS!!!"

2011-03-24T22:02:00.000-07:00

So I am thrilled that we won against the Aussies. There's something about a World Cup which just cannot be explained, understood or replicated. I LOVE it. And I genuinely wanted to write something about the win, about how I hope we beat Pakistan on Wednesday (pleaseeeeeeee God!), about cricket and Indians in general, maybe even my favourite cricket memories of all time. But I somehow lack the skill, at this point of time. So let me post an old piece, which I wrote circa 2007, when India beat Pakistan in the T20 World Cup finals. It's a match I can never ever forget, for the sheer enjoyment and warm fuzzy feelings that it generated. I hope I feel the same on Wednesday- I hope the heavens above are listening to this plea :)
(This piece might come across as the work of a hyperactive, high-on-drugs/alcohol type of person, but you HAVE to understand- I was very excited. Like VERY)

******
WHAT a match!!! rocking, brillant, spell binding, nerve wracking, nail biting- i just run out of adjectives...i dont remember the last time, i screamed and shouted and literally lived a match..the combination was absolutely lethal; hostel common room, around 30-40 mad crazy paranoid girls, india-pakistan cricket match, world cup final...there was no way this match could have been watched with sophistication. So gaalis flew casually and as each ball was bowled, there were screams and shouts. During the indian innings, each ball was followed by a "HIT IT!!! FOUR...SIX...maaaaarrrrrrooooooooooooooo", and during the pakistani innings, each ball was followed by a "PAKDOOOOOOOO....WICKEEETTTTT....DOT BALL!!"....(of course there were loads of other things, which absolutely cannot be mentioned here)

some of my favourite moments:

1) One of the girls came in halfway through the indian innings and india was really struggling at that point. So everyone forced her to go and change into her pink nightgown, which she had worn during the india-australia match and which proved 'lucky'. So after MUCH coercion, she did go and change...and the pink nightgown proved to be lucky once more! so needless to say, its going to be a permanent fixture during cricket matches now!

2) the run out; literally it came out of nowhere...and it was absolutely amazing!!! (Who was this? I have nooo idea now!)

3) shahid afridi's wicket; OH MY GOD! from the very beginning of the pakistani innings, everyone was damn scared and everyone kept on chanting "shahid afridi duck out...shahid afridi duck out" and the first ball was a wide. so joginder sharma was screamed and shouted and sweared at. and THEN came the magical 'going to be a six' shot which turned out to be a catch and THAT was a time, when half the girls jumped from their seats and just JUMPED around!!! (including yours truly)

4) bhajji's charitable sixes: SUICIDE!!! sheer suicide!!! god that man was screamed at and murdered a million times in those three balls and that was the time when everyone said "gone...gone gone gone" this followed by sreesanth's 2 sixes...depression took over the common room

5) mizbah's wicket: one of the girls hated mizbah from the time he came up to bat...every time he would bat she would say "out ho jaaa...ho jaaa naaaaa"...and everytime a pakistani wicket wud fall, she wud say "mizbah hai na? mizbah out ho gaya?" and would be utterly disappointed when told otherwise...and all of us were absolutely convinced that he wud NOT get out till the end...and when he hit that weirdest shot (it was absolutely so twisted), everyone's eyes were just fixed on the ball and everyone chanted "pakad le...pakad le" and THEN that glorious moment when sreesanth caught it- the common room positively erupted and hell broke lose! 40 girls running around, dancing, jumping around, hugging whoever they cud see...aaahhhhh! (I remember this- one of life's favourite moments)
it reminded me of the part in hp3 when gryffindor wins the quidditch cup and harry thinks "i wish there were dementors here right now, i could have conjured up the best patronus"

of course it was only after the match and the presentation ceremony that all the girls realized that dinner time was long gone and when we reached the mess it was closed...so we went to the guard to get the key and after much coercion, he gave it and the girls entered the mess in a line singing this random song which was apparently being played on the radio dhoni ke lambe lambe baal, dhoni ki sexy sexy chaal...dhoni dham dhama dham...ho dhoni dham dhama dham...you get the picture...

so my throat is completely gone, i was utterly exhausted from all the screaming, shouting and jumping around...but it was just sooooooooo totally worth it!!!

Right to live = Right to die?

2011-03-09T05:50:00.000-08:00

Aruna Shaunbag was 24 years old. She was in an honourable profession- nursing. She was due to be married in a month. Life would have been normal, ordinary- just like it has been for many women before her, and will be for many women for centuries to come.
Except some sick man decided to ruin all that. He strangled her with a dog chain and sodomized her. And her life paused. Not ended- but paused.
The man who did this horrid act, was freed after 7 years. Because none of the doctors confirmed that there was sexual assault. 7 years was the price he paid for a crime he committed. 37 years of lying in a vegetative state is the price Shaunbag paid (and continues to pay), for no fault of hers.

The SC announced its verdict on a petition filed by author/activist Pinki Virani (who incidentally has written "Bitter Chocolate"- a book which tore my heart and soul apart when I read it as a 19 year old). They rejected her petition which sought to end Shanbaug's life so that she may not suffer the indignity of the life she's been leading.

Euthanasia is a sensitive topic world over. Out of the almost 200 countries in the world, a handful have legalized it, including only three states in the USA. Multiple debates, arguements, pros and cons have been discussed and analyzed over and over again. But nothing seems to have come out of it...and in all probability, nothing will. Because it is not about an aspect of life- like gay marriages. It is about life itself.
Personally, I don't have an opinion about mercy killing. It is way too complex and layered for me to form a judgement or a definite perspective about it. But one thing I am certain about- it should never ever be legalized in India. In a country where integrity is cheaper than luxury cars and designer clothes, euthanasia will for certain be misused. The best thing the Supreme Court can ever do for this country is never to make mercy killing 'ok'.
I also don't have an opinion about the SC's verdict. One part of me feels they could have taken some pity on the woman and just ordered the doctors to 'passively' kill her. Yet on another level, I think it was completely fair, and they did the best they could.

But there is something so incredibly sad about the whole case. I was pretty neutral about the whole situation and gave it no more than 10 minutes of my time each day while reading the newspaper, till the day I saw that she was 24 when the incident happened. And something about that fact, made me look at the case in a whole new light. It hit me, that no matter what the verdict is, or could have been or should have been, at the end of the day- that 24 year old is lost forever. Her dreams, her aspirations, her goals, her future, will forever remain unknown. An entire life has been wasted.

Maybe it's because I just turned 24, and most of my friends/acquaintances are around that age.
Maybe it's because I am a girl, and this case is a reminder of just how vulnerable a woman is, regardless of who she is, or where she is.
Maybe it's because I suddenly feel the need to value every second of my existence, and pray that nothing remotely close to this ever happens to anyone, ever again.

But I hope Aruna Shaunbag gets her justice. In some way or the other. It's the least life owes to her.

Of the two movies I have loved

2011-02-04T05:53:00.000-08:00

For someone who is a self-confessed movie buff, I have been really terrible at seeing movies for the past so many months. The last movies i saw were inception (awesome!) and i hate luv storys (ummm...extremely blah, but i guess it was ok). Which is just sad if you think about it.

So breaking this self imposed strike-on-movies, i saw two movies within the last ten days. Both, I had wanted to see desperately since i had heard about them. Both, I had heard were FAB. and both i was extremely anxious about disliking, since i had such immense expectations.

You know what? I absolutely LOVED both of them- they have practically nothing in common except the fact that they are both movies! but one thing, which i really enjoyed about both, is that they were so relatable- in very different ways of course.

So first up: THE SOCIAL NETWORK- its about facebook- and being the fb junkie that i am, i think I am morally obliged to love it :) The whole process of how he came up with the concept, and the way the entire journey was chronicled- sheer awesomeness! To think, the movie is about the making of a website- and how interesting was it! The characterizations were so brilliant, and as my cousin said "you actually feel bad for the so called bad guys". So many scenes were just sooo cool- how zuckerberg comes up with the relationship status thing, how his friend's girlfriend fights with him over the status- "do you really expect me to believe that the cofounder of facebook doesnt know how to change his relationship status?" hahahahaha! one of my favourite scenes was the one where zuckerberg is 'interviewing' candidates- i don't know how faithful that was to reality, but such a cool scene! It was an absolutely riveting movie, and one which touches you, amazes you...and perhaps makes you love that thing called facebook so much more :)

Now comes the movie, the mere mention of which brings a huge grin on my face: BAND BAAJA BAARAT- i hereby pronounce it as my favouritest movie since Jab We Met (yes it's THAT good!) it is the very reason which people watch movies- it makes you laugh, touches your heart, makes you identify with the characters...and has you rooting for all that the movie is about. But above all, its very honest. It's a word i have perhaps never used for any movie till date, but thats what it is. I loved the way Delhi was captured in the city- I think it's the best portrayal of the city EVER. BBB doesn't show the Delhi of Khan market, Select city walk, CCDs, Baristas, five star hotels or page 3 parties or horse races (as Aisha did...ughhhh!) No, BBB doesn't show the "chic" part of Delhi (well, not much anyway!) It shows the Delhi of Janakpuri, of the red brick buildings of DU colleges, of U-specials, of weddings which have the same punjabi songs (irrespective of the community to which the people actually belong), of jhintak-ness, of bread pakoras and chai, of people who use words like "bhukkad", of boys who cant speak english to save their lives and ladaku girls, who are ready to take over the world. The sheer Delhi-ness of the movie is so endearing, so relatable, that its hard not to fall in love with every bit of BBB. Ranveer Singh was such a star...stole the show completely- its impossible to believe that this guy is not from saharanpur, or that he doesnt talk in broken english in real life. Anushka was incredibly natural, and looked so pretty, despite the glam quotient being so low. In fact, every single character is so well etched, so finely portrayed- it makes you feel that perhaps, you have met them somewhere. I saw the movie twice in a span of 3 days, and it was soooo much fun the second time around...i suspect its all im going to be seeing for a while ;)

So despite this fantabulous movie watching experiences, I am going to steer clear of movies for a while. After all, anything I might see for a while now, has to compete with the brilliance of Social Network and BBB- and that is a tough act to follow ;)

Swades

2011-01-27T04:50:00.000-08:00

I had full plans to write one of those "mera bharat mahaan", steeped-in-patriotism type of post for the republic day. And i just might some day...but today is not it. And here is why.
On the occasion of our nation's 62nd republic day, the family decided to go to the nearby temple town of vrindavan. Religious sentiments to be evoked, you would think, NOT patriotic ones. Keep reading.

The outskirts or the entry of vrindavan could pass off as the outskirts of any big city in the country. the roads are wide, there are new apartment buildings, with a whole small town kind of ambience. Very earthy, in a sense. There is the ISKCON temple right at the entry, which as anyone who has ever visited an ISKCON temple would tell you, is a very well maintained, "oozing of money" place and overall a very pretty looking complex. The fragrance of roses is overpowering (in a nice way) and the temple is such that it invites you inside.
We went to the Rang ji temple first, in a fatfati type auto. The temple was old, and wouldn't get brownie points for maintenance of the temple structure, but the complex was nice and huge and nothing really alarmed the senses. All was well up till now.
Then came the reason why I was inspired to write this post- the Banke Bihari temple. The auto dropped us at the end of a seemingly endless maze of small galis and we were instructed to walk through those to get the main temple. And walk we did. I don't think I am going to forget those 10 minutes of walking down to the temple, in a looooong time. The reason, in one word- filthy.
Now, I am not really much of a "cleanliness" freak or 'snob' when it comes to travelling. As in, of course i like perfectly clean and hygienic conditions, and all that...but i think im pretty ok with adjusting to not so clean environments. And having travelled quite a bit in India, i would say i have seen a wide variety of conditions, so nothing can really affect me too much. Or so i thought.
The route to the banke bihari mandir was easily, by far, the filthiest condition i have EVER seen. For the past one week since I got back, I have been trying to explain to people the exact vision, and no words have been able to justify that experience. There were pigs, there were people doing their "business", there were food stalls and the garbage was all over the place- all in a short distance of 200-300 metres. After that hell-ish walk, we reached the temple, practically got killed in a stampede (the topic of another post perhaps), and walked back through the same route to our auto. It was a relief to see normal roads, and 'civilization' again. But i couldn't get over those streets. And melodramatic as it may sound, it haunts me. Not the dirt, or the fact that a place of religion and faith was located amongst such filth- although that did bother me tremendously.

The thing which haunts me is that vrindavan, in its entirety, represented precisely what was wrong with this country we call motherland. We pay so much attention to the outer appearances of our cities and towns, but give a damn to what they really are on the inside. We build high rises, and fancy residential areas, and swanky malls filled with all the brands known to mankind. But that's not us! That is just us, trying hard to be like the rich nations, trying to ignore our real issues, our real problems. The Delhi government built state-of-the-art beautiful stadiums during the CWG, but hid the slums and the makeshift houses of construction workers by planting HUGE billboards in front of them. And then promptly removed them once the 'guests' were gone. And this is right in the capital of the largest democracy of the world, a so-called developing nation. To use an extremely superficial analogy, its like a fat person trying to hide their weight by dressing in the right colours and fits. It would work to give a thin appearance for a while, but eventually, the weight will show.

People in the cities would look at all the world rankings of poverty, human development, and wonder why we rank so low. Why, despite "sooooo much of economic growth and blah blah" do we fall lower in all these indices, year after year? It is because our policy makers, lack a collective integrity. Rather, as a society we lack a sense of integrity, a sense of duty. Things like corruption, "adjust kar le yaar", "manage ho jaayega", "koi farak nahin padta"...they are part of our DNA.
And unless we change our DNA, unless we do something drastic, the cities will keep getting richer, and more posh. But the streets of small town India would remain the same.

The last one of the year

2010-12-27T05:42:00.000-08:00

I have been meaning to do a year end post for a while, and was putting it off till the last day (i.e. today the 31st) just in case...you know, if something happened at the last minute which would completely change the way I see the whole of this past year. Nothing of that sort happened...thank god :) It's extremely uncool that i was supremely busy the entire day and thus cant do total justice to this post. But i shall try my best.

2010- WOW! it has been, i think, one of the BESTEST years of my life in totality. Not only did supremely cool and awesome things happen- coming 2nd in JNU twice, the NET-JRF, driving (I drive absolutely kickass now btw...the post on driving came a bit too soon!), the awesome love story (which I admit I am partial to because I knew all the possible details!)- but it was also a year, where nothing horrible happened. I think the combination of the two just makes this the best year ever.

It was a year of many many family reunions, of strengthening old friendships and forming some new ones. It was a year of many successes and of feeling pride in my own existence. It was a year of travel, of discovering and rediscovering some places. It was a year of much joy and of a million memories. It has been a year which I will always look back at fondly, and feel proud of.

For the first time ever, I don't want a year to end. It feels like everything of the past year will be wiped clean, and I am extremely nervous about what kind of a year 2011 will be. It promises to be an eventful year- people very close to me are getting married, career-related decisions which could prove to be instrumental in shaping who 'I' become eventually, and I am sure many more things will crop up. I hope 2011 carries with it, some of the happiness, and some of the goodness from this year...and I sincerely hope and pray that it betters 2010 in every which way.

As the twin once said "May astrology, numerology and psychology work in our favour this year!" Happy new year everyone!

Chalti ka naam gaadi

2010-12-20T06:22:00.000-08:00

People who have interacted me on a somewhat deeper level than "hey whats up?" would know that if there was such a term as "geographically challenged", i would be the human representation of it. Its something which I openly admit to, and am not in the least apologetic about- I am horrible with directions...and while my other sense are pretty intact (yes common sense included!), my road sense has been deep in slumber since birth.

So its really no wonder that I wasn't exactly most enthusiastic about learning how to drive and getting a license. Most of my friends/acquaintances celebrated their 18th birthdays by getting a permanent driver's license. On my 18th, i had just started to figure my way around Delhi. Since then, a small group of people had been pestering me to learn this so-called art of driving, and get my license. I had a million excuses ready- "I don't have a car, so its not like the license will be of much use" "I stay in a hostel, i don't need a license" "i LOVE delhi's public transport!" (i do really!) and of course, the trump card "Do you NOT know how horrible I am with directions? I mean i get lost inside my own colony!" Funnily, the majority of the people in my life never pestered me too much about this whole thing- i guess people know me too well :)

However, things changed. One summer evening in July, I decided that i had to know how to drive. Kids younger than me, wayyyy younger than me, were racing through delhi roads...i mean its insulting right? Thus began the driving classes- official and un-official. The official ones, with the driving school were a bit of a joke. It was during the unofficial ones, with the father, that (to use a phrase which has to be in hindi!) aate daal ka bhaav pata chala! The first day of driving, I promptly announced to one and all that I would much rather do a million dissertations than drive- yes i am melodramatic like that!

Yesterday was my maiden drive on the scary roads of Delhi allbymyself. Yes- all.by.myself. There was no father, no brother, no one who would tell me to slow down, give the indicator, lower my speed, go right/left/wherever. I was on my own.
It was the scariest experience of my life. I wasnt this scared when i drove for the very first time. Or when the father took us on the ring road when we hadnt even got our learner's license. Or when he asked me to drive through naraina during peak hour and the mother was mortified, and prayed to all the gods known to mankind till we made it back home. I don't think i have ever experienced true fear like I did yesterday. For a second, I considered taking the metro instead- i mean who am i kidding? I was definitely NOT born to drive...why do i even try? Thank god I don't take myself seriously most of the time ;)
My maiden drive was horrible. I mean i drove my worst. Not unsafe driving, but just sheer horrible driving. But it was extremely rite-of-passagey, and i felt very very proud of myself; i urge all of you to be proud of me as well ;)

No i haven't changed drastically. I am still geographically challenged- it is no co-incidence that i only drive to places the directions to which have been permanently ingrained in my brain. I would still be a thousand times more comfortable at the idea of taking an auto or the metro. But I can drive! And it has given me a completely new perspective to Delhi roads- the world is a very different place behind that steering wheel. I hate pedestrians when I am driving (i think driver-me would have long killed pedestrian-me had they shared a road). I hate those auto-type/van type/three-wheeler things (i had never really noticed them before). I hate DTC buses and cycle rickshaws (such conflict inside my head!). I hate trucks (ya those I always wasnt too fond of). I swear a LOT inside my head (!) I hate people staring at me when I am driving- yes i am a girl. yes i drive horrible. yes the engine goes off. yes i have a problem parking, and taking the car out of the parking. what is YOUR problem? overtake my car, and GO.

I don't know how comfortable i will be with this whole driving thing in the future. There's a high possibility that I might give it up, just like that. But for now, let me bask in this glory :)
And thus endeth the saga of my journey from geographically challenged public transport loving girl, to geographically challenged public transport loving girl who learnt how to drive...

Kismat Connection

2010-11-21T20:16:00.001-08:00

They call it "Lady Luck".

I couldn't agree more. Luck has to be a woman. It is erratic, weird, moody, temperamental, spontaneous, surprising and unexpected in a way, which the male species can never ever comprehend, let alone be.

My faith in luck and its twin, destiny, has always been pretty solid. Even at a young age, bogged down by life in general, I knew instinctively, that there has to be a greater plan for my life; a plan which went beyond the minute and seemingly irrelevant details of daily life. As time went on, and I grew up (dont i sound old?) lady luck's ways began to amaze me. There have been people, whose presence I couldn't comprehend at that time, or perhaps never even paid attention to, who have shaped my life in ways which I never thought was possible. Split second decisions which have at times turned out to be the best, and at times the worst, decisions of my life- ultimately shaping the person I am today.
Not to discount the power of human agency- one can overcome many an adversity by sheer willpower, and motivation. But thats just it- what decides where that willpower should be put to use? what decides when hard work will yield the results it is supposed to?
Our choices determine to a large extent who we are, what we become, and how we deal with the world- but what determines which choices works for us, and which doesnt? All this is way too complex to just leave to the word "co-incidence".

Why this sudden discourse on the relevance of luck and destiny? Well, I have recently been an e-witness to one of the best love stories which one can possibly hear, one which has got everything which a rom-com/chick flick aims to have- there's a childhood element, facebook and gtalk (my absolute favourites!), and love which is going to culminate in marriage soon. But most importantly, this love story, is rooted so deeply in destiny, that one cant help but say "its like...it was meant to be!" Love stories are awesome to hear, especially real life ones, but ones like this make you believe, reaffirm your faith in humanity and the powers to be, and everything nice and happy.

Any more justifications on why luck has to be a woman?

***I would like to dedicate this post to all those lovely people who have been pestering me to blog. Please comment so that i know you have read it! And also a special mention to the hero and the heroine of the love story- i have no idea whether you guys will read it (i will try to bully you into it though!)- you guys have made a cynic believe, and i love you for that!***

The many facets of personal space

2010-08-14T00:40:00.000-07:00

I knew a person, not long ago, who always made a big deal out of getting personal space- "don't call me for a week, I'll contact you when I need to speak to you" type of behaviour. Before knowing this person, and facing certain life experiences, I never really thought much about this whole concept in a serious way.

Personal space is supremely important...I think we all need time in our lives to think about ourselves, and the world...and life in general. There are times when we're super bugged with humanity in general and just want to be. And we need this sometimes within the privacy and comfort of our own homes. I know of friends who stay in joint families, and I can understand just how difficult it is to be surrounded by people like all the time. I myself live in a semi-joint family type set up, so on a certain level, I relate to those issues. Family is supremely important, and I love mine to death- but there are times, when you just want to be by yourself, think about past/present/future, obsess about your day by yourself, deal with your little successes and failures on your own terms...just hang out with your own soul. We all need that.

I lived in a hostel for 2 years, and trust me when I say this, that nothing teaches you more about this whole notion of personal space than communal living. You literally live 24/7 with people who you are not related to, and who are not in any way obliged to love and tolerate you unconditionally. There is a constant struggle to find space and time for yourself amidst all the noise and commotion, and all those intermingled lives...its insane.
One thing which I learnt in those two years, was that its not just a challenge to get your own personal space in such situations, its also a herculean task to give it to others, especially those who you feel close to. It is very easy to prod and bug and question incessantly about what X did, why do you do this Y...its very easy to nag and invade privacy. What is difficult, is to give the other person time to figure out what he/she wants to share, while showing that you, at the end of the day, care about that person. Its a tightrope, with a risk of being labelled indifferent on one hand, and interfering on the other. There is also the whole deal of knowing when to ignore people's pleas of "Leave me alone!" when you know better- that leaving them alone would just lead to more problems; as opposed to actually leaving them alone when they ask (or sometimes don't ask) for it. In fact, it is at times easier to deal with people who you really don't care much for; you don't need to know what they did, and they don't need to know what you did...and life's good.

As if life wasn't complicated enough!

Barso re megha!

2010-07-07T21:39:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I wrote something, and was even pulled up by creyzeee about it. I told her about me having a kind of a writer's block, and she, in her inimitable style, dismissed it with a "vadde log, vaddi baatein" type of comment ;) But its actually true, I was having a "I don't know what to write about" kind of problem.
Yesterday I got up, with a feeling, that I have to write about something. And just like that, as I looked out of my balcony in the morning, it started to rain. And all my favourite rainy day moments, and rainy day songs started playing in my head, waiting to be put in words, waiting to be immortalized.

So here it is, some of my rain-related memories!

1) I lived in Kuala Lumpur for 3 years, and true to its tropical nature, it rained practically every single day- I am NOT kidding. And I have never ever seen a better example of "pouring like cats and dogs". In my school, we had this rule that unless there was lightening, the sports class wouldnt be called off: so i have many memories of playing football in the open school grounds, the rain completely blocking my vision (i didnt have lenses at that point of time, so fun times for me!) and getting hit by the ball ALL the time. Once, my mom had driven me and my brother to a nearby park for an evening out, and it started pouring (as usual), and i remember the three of us (definitely not the most geographically blessed in the family) had to make our way back home, amidst the showers and traffic jam...my mom hasnt driven a car since kuala lumpur, but whenever i think of my mom driving, i think of that incident.

2) One of my all-time favourite scenes from one of my all time favourite movies is the rain-dance in the gazebo scene from kuch kuch hota hai. That movie (all cheesiness and cliches included) always reminds me of childhood, of times when movies were so real...and that one scene for me symbolizes romance to the hilt. Recently, it was played out again in dostana, but it wasnt quite the same ;)

3) One day when I was in 12th grade, due to some seriously heavy rains in Delhi, my school bus reached school about 2 hours late...i remember walking into class to an image of socks hanging on the side of the room, and umbrellas opened up all over the place. That day, the humanities section had gone out for some competition, and because of that, my psychology class was cancelled. So, during the maths class which our classmates were attending, me and another psych student hung around the whole school barefoot (coz our shoes and socks were wet) and we even played hopscotch (good ole' stapu) in the rain. I remember coming home from school on that already lovely day, to the surprise that the parents had bunked office! I was 16 years old, but trust me, I was as happy as a little girl to see her parents at home when she came home from school :)

4) One of my closest friends from school, P, was in a terrible car accident when we were in 3rd year of undergrad. I remember all of us went absolutely crazy when we heard and wanted to see her the next possible day...the day we (the school gang) decided to go see her, all of us assembled and had lunch at our (then) favourite haunt- nirulas, chanakyapuri (which i continue to miss!). After gorging onto food, we came out to find N's car (which was to take us to P's house) not where it was parked...it had been towed! By then it had started raining, and all of us went in autos to rescue the car...by the time we got to teen murti police station, it was raining so so heavily! i remember me and two of my other school friends waited in the car (with rain swishing all around us) while N and S went to fight it out with the policemen...by the time we reached P's house, all "wish you speedy recovery" type dialogue went for a toss and it was all about "do you know what happened to our car?" It's not really a rainy day memory, but the rain just adds spice to the story :)

5) Whenever it rains (at least for the past 3 years), the first song which comes to my mind is "barso re megha"- i danced to this song on hostel night during masters, and thus know each beat, each word, each musical note...and i never get tired of it. whenever i see raindrops, i just want to dance to barso re!

6) I had gone to Poland in the middle of my masters, and one day while visiting the city center in Warsaw, me and my cousins were caught in the middle of some serious thundershowers. After waiting for about 10 minutes for the rain to stop, and then figuring out that nothing like this was going to happen for at least an hour more, my cousins decided (against my better judgement) to run in the rain to the train station...i pleaded and protested, but the brothers bullied me into running with them. But what a run it was! By the time we reached the station, we were wet and when we asked a lady to take our photograph, she looked at us like we were bonkers! When we got home, my aunt and uncle promptly told us to change and had steaming hot pakoras and chai ready...aah bliss!

7) In my final year of masters, me and some friends (in a bid to lead more fun lives) decided to go to the IIT fest, and as soon as we entered the campus, it started raining heavily and people who we met told us that scheduled events were most likely cancelled, since they were to take place outside. Despite such warnings, all of us walked in the rain (we were dressed really nicely btw) with 2 'barely there' umbrellas...my sandal broke, all of us were drenched to the hilt...and by the time we reached the inside of the campus, it was confirmed that the events were cancelled. So after hanging around aimlessly for some time (in the rain!) and having soup or coffee (don't remember) all of us trudged back to our hostel...mulle ki daud masjid tak!

8) One of my cousins got married last year, and right before his wedding reception in delhi, four of us went for a walk around our colony (its a code word for "secret bonding time"). In the middle of this walk, it started raining heavily, and instead of running back to our respective houses (which were hardly 30 seconds away) all of us stayed in the middle of the rain in a sheltered spot, and continued to talk and chat it away amidst the puddles, the thunder and the raindrops. That is one 'walk' which I'll never ever forget :)

Rain has been used as a metaphor for a lot of things in books/movies/songs- for love, for separation, for change, for happiness, for new beginnings, for sadness, for tragedies...and a myriad of emotions. For me, rain has always been about joy, about fun, about memories of a lifetime...

No Reservations

2010-05-08T07:25:00.001-07:00

Reservations- a controversial topic in this country. It can incite protests, strikes, even immolation; perhaps its only next to communal violence in terms of evoking strong emotion in this country.
I am perhaps, the antithesis of the class of people which reservations cater to: I am an urban educated, upper caste, upper middle class Indian, who has had access to some of the best education this country can provide. So, my opinion would count for peanuts if I make a strong case against reservation. But that is just what I am going to do.
That does not mean I am elitist, or arrogant about my pedigree. I have absolutely nothing against the so called lower castes, nor do I adhere to this belief that only the upper castes have the brains to succeed. I have read much literature on the caste system, broken my head over the mind boggling facts and figures, and know that the whole concept of untouchability, and caste based discrimination, is a frightening reality- way beyond the comprehension of urban India. Despite all this, I have a serious problem with reservation. I have a problem with the Government deciding that since its schools arent anywhere near competent to provide even basic education, the private, so-called 'elite' schools must include disadvantaged, 'lower' caste children in their institutions. This 'shrugging' off responsibility is my problem. I have a problem with people from reserved classes being given preference in promotions, and college admissions, without taking into account what economic background they come from, and frankly, whether they even need such preferential treatment. It's quite ironic that the people who eventually reap the benefits of reservations, are those who are not in any way in need of them, which eventually leads to the people who deserve it, losing out. I am not against the Government giving extra benefits to the poor and the disadvantaged- but why can't this disadvantage be measured by economic factors, rather than what caste they belong to? Why should a rich Dalit be given preference over a poor Brahmin, just because our reservation criteria favours these so-called 'backward' castes?
Looking around, we can see that reservation has not really done any good in terms of integration of society. All it has done, is to deepen the cleavages between the various castes and social groups, and cause more animosity. If we have to kill social ills such as untouchability and caste based discrimination, it most certainly cannot be done by labelling people as 'backward classes' or 'scheduled classes'. This labelling of people into 'quota' category, does nothing except strengthen prejudices and stereotypes. Is that how India wants its people to be? Lets not make reservations a dividing factor; lets use affirmative action to benefit those who need it the most. Otherwise, no amount of reservations and 'quotas' can make India a superpower.

of the (not-so) fine line between love and like

2010-04-22T09:11:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, I stumbled upon some priceless wisdom; that 'love' and 'like' are two extremely distinct entities. Until then, and I am sure with many people it holds true, like and love were on a simple continuum; first there's like...and then there's love. The latter is just an extension of the former. As in, you meet someone, you like them..if you like them for long enough and spend loads of quality time with them and go through the right amount of awesome and terrible times, eventually you start to love them. So that could hold true for people such as friends, maybe some teachers, people you work with who eventually become friends, your 'better halves'...and so on.

But human beings are just not that simplistic. Which is why I redefined these concepts, for my better understanding ;)

As I see it, 'like' is more objective, more rational; you like someone for various reasons- maybe you admire them for certain qualities, you share similar interests/perceptions, that person is very nice and sweet...endless. 'Like' has a component of respect, of mutual understanding; its based on very clear factors. You can easily say "I like XYZ coz...."
'Love' on the other hand...is extremely irrational; it has no clear basis. You could love someone who is absolutely the opposite of you, who drives you up the wall on most days. Sometimes, you forget why you love someone, you've been doing it for so long! What about those who you love before you were given a chance to like them? Such as family- you never go through the like-turns-into-love phase with them. You have loved them since before you could think for yourself. Then there are people, who you absolutely dislike in terms of the people they are; they say/do/stand for things which you don't agree with at any level. But you cant help but love them, cant help but feel and pray for them.

My world is full of people who I like, but probably don't love; and of those who I dislike, and still inexplicably love. What about you?

Honesty...really?

2010-04-09T08:31:00.000-07:00

Recently, in a conversation with my dear friend B, she narrated an incident which she had seen/heard of, wherein when a wife disclosed her past to her husband, he took it personally and started behaving badly. or something to that effect. but you get the picture. So that led to a discussion on honesty, wherein we differed. According to her, honesty is super integral to relationships- you need to tell everything and then if someone cant handle any of the truth, tough luck! My take was a little more...how should i say, cynical? practical? anyway, my take was that honesty is a highly overrated virtue, and in day to day life, we just cant handle many of the truths which are placed in front of us. I gave her examples of husbands-wives, bestest of friends, sisters even, who despite sharing their whole lives, and all the gory details...will leave certain things out, will lie at certain times.

Don't get me wrong...it's not like im urging the world to lie to all and sundry, nor am i trying to say that the world is an awful place and everyone lies to everyone, so don't trust even the souls closest to you. There are situations when honesty is THE need of the hour, and its one of the most basic ingredients to a good, successful relationship- whichever kind it may be. You cant do without it at all. My point is simply that, dishonesty is a phenomenon which is very natural, and one doesnt really think before tweaking the truth, or withholding certain pieces of info. The reasons for this may be numerous- either to make someone feel nice or to avoid certain unpleasant retorts- its endless really. Some people exaggerate and exaggerate (one of my very dear friends is living proof of that), but would you call them dishonest? There's something very negative about the term, giving it a very "immoral" sort of feel- which i have a problem with.

So while honesty is a virtue, dishonesty is not really a vice. It's a part of who we are, inherently.

the greatest epic EVER

2010-02-12T06:14:00.000-08:00

Mahabharata.

its one of those constant, persistent phenomena in my life which has been there practically forever. legend goes that as a naughty, wild 2 year old, i used to sit with my grandmothers and watch mahabharata and ramayana back-to-back, and i could apparently recite their dialogues even in my sleep. thus, i don't remember ever watching mahabharata for the first time. but i do remember that as a child, i was always more partial to it than towards the other great epic, ramayana. initially, it was because the former tv show was better than the latter; later on in life, goaded by certain people who were more partial to ramayana, i read both the books, by c.rajagopalachari (his mahabharata is one of the finest books ever) and realized that i was still as partial to mahabharata! it can be attributed to two main things- a childhood fascination with the tv show (i mean COME ON...its one of the best things indian television has EVER shown!) and a genuine preference for complex characters.

i absolutely, positively LOVE the show; its one of the bestest things Indian television could ever produce and i salute to the timeless quality which it has. its been more than 20 years since they aired it, and i can still watch it with as much enthusiasm as i probably used to as a 2 year old. the songs are brilliant, the dialogues are super duper cool, the actors were tailor made to play the characters they did (i cant think of a single miscast person in the show) and the whole grandeur was fantabulous...i love it!

on a more serious, 'adult' level of analysis, i find the sheer complexity of characters fascinating. as a student of psychology (ya it makes me a superior being in every way :P) i have a certain sense of partiality towards the grey areas of human existence- i understand how no human being is perfect, and everyone has secrets, everyone has issues with the world...and sometimes intense love is as harmful, if not more, than intense hatred. thats precisely what mahabharat stands for. none of the characters (even the 'god' Krishna) has ever been portrayed as the greatest thing mankind would ever see- they were all flawed, all caught up with their own ego hassles and power struggles,every single character comes with their own bag and baggage, and has their own agendas in life....much like normal individuals. and as a viewer/reader, you are allowed to choose who you prefer- the sometimes good people who are on the side of wrong, or the sometimes bad people who are the upholders of the truth. i love how you are allowed to get irritated with yudhishtir when he starts to flaunt too much of 'holier than thou' attitude and how you feel like sympathizing with duryodhana when he dies all alone in the battlefield. i love how despite karna being on the 'bad' side and him doing some very ungentlemanly like things (like joining duryodhan and gang in insulting draupadi) you cant help but feel just so bad for the guy. i couldnt agree more with shekhar kapur when he describes karna as "the most tragic hero in all of literature". i love how each character, male or female, is so neatly etched out (except maybe the two random Nakul and Sahdev...poor guys never really got any presence anywhere!).

there's also a familial component to the obsession with mahabharata i.e. many members of the family (grandmom, parents being top of the list) could write a thesis on the subject. once, my grandmom and i watched 16 episodes back to back in a single day...neither of us even thinking of taking a break and watching something else (the good old days of video cassettes...sigh) we are the kind of people who get irritated if someone or something interrupts us in the middle of an episode...despite having seen each and every single episode at least a million times.
but i have never really met too many people of my generation who are as obsessed about the show or the epic as i am...many conversations are already running through my head...

एक ऐसी जगह बता जहाँ खुदा न हो

2010-01-29T07:38:00.000-08:00

my religious/spiritual/etc etc type of views (or some semblance of it) have already been touched upon in this post. it is something i am extremely uncomfortable talking about or even being asked about. i find it a complete invasion of privacy when people ask me questions about my belief in a supreme power...it is something which i don't even discuss with people who i am tremendously close to.

why this sudden blog about my sentiments about this issue then? my recent trip to shirdi is the reason for this blog. to be completely honest, i didn't go to shirdi for the sake of going to 'shirdi' per say- i am no sai baba devotee, despite some of my closest relatives being ardent worshippers. i went coz i love travelling, i love seeing new places (yes even religious ones!), i love interacting with people on a journey- i have noticed (in all my travels!) that we are much more relaxed when on a trip, thus tend to be much more interesting to talk to ;)
so thats how i joined a group of six women- aunties, as one of them proclaimed (older girls i say)- on a four day trip to shirdi. it was a super fantastic trip- feminists might even call it liberating, since there was no male accompanying us. there was lots of talking, lots of information being shared, new things being learned about people, certain memories revived, and many more formed. it is extremely difficult for me to put into words the moments of the train journey, the peculiarities of the group members which everyone eventually adjusted to, and grew to love, the insane giggling which one would usually associate with teenage girls, the endless cups of chai, the sometimes superficial-sometimes heavy duty serious conversations....it was as awesome as a trip could and should be.

the experience of visiting shirdi was an eye opener in many ways- for starters, i went as a non believer...and while i wouldnt call myself a convert (although some people assume i am one since i visited shirdi), i have perhaps softened to the idea of sai baba.
but apart from this, there is a certain observation which I made. during the whole trip, there was a lot of talk of 'miracles'- instances of how someone was in trouble and baba saved them, how someone was in a mess and baba had showed the way...and many other events. the cynic and the atheist might dismiss them, the believer swears by them. as they say ना मानो तो पत्थर, मानो तो भगवान्! if you listen to the stories, you will be absolutely spellbound, by not just the content, but also of the deep faith that is reflected in each word of the narrator- its a strangely interesting sight!

as i see it, miracles happen to us, around us, every day. if we just stop and notice the little things around us, we would see that we're literally surrounded by miracles. things like classes being cancelled at the last minute, impromptu meetings with friends, relatives visiting, your favourite song coming on radio, coming home sans insane traffic jams- if you pay close attention, i guess these would come under the 'miracle' category. but we usually don't pay close attention. for us in our normal day life, we are too hardened and cynical to really notice anything, to really feel anything simple as something great. but when one is in a religious place, people generally seem to have a sense of heightened awareness and a strange sense of positivity- and anything remotely positive happening becomes a 'miracle'. i have generally seen that people are usually in a perennially good mood in religious places (the exceptional tiff with the security guards and pushing/shoving notwithstanding). perhaps its the vibe of the place, perhaps a sense of bhakti...i don't know. it is very utopian of me to perhaps wish that people everywhere carry that sense of peace and joy to their normal lives. to me, that would be a shining exemplar of belief, and faith.

{this post hasnt really followed a pattern...i guess it is because i feel extremely fragmented in terms of my sentiments about the various aspects of the trip- the different emotions and experiences havent really merged together into one post. oh well...such is life :) }

Where are you from?

2010-01-21T23:25:00.000-08:00

Four simple words.

Many people give a simple one word answer to this question. "Orissa", "Assam", "U.P."...and the list could go on and on. I, on the other hand, have extremely mixed and confused feelings about this question; regardless of how much I try to simplify the reply, there really is no straight answer to this question.

If I absolutely have to answer quickly in short, I say "I am from Tamil Nadu." That leads to three possible responses- 1) when the questioner just acknowledges it and remains silent after that (an extremely rare phenomena), 2) the questioner acknowledges it and proceeds to ask me further uncomfortable/unanswerable questions like "oh which part are you from?" OR 3) "Really? you don't look it!"

I love category 1)- they make life simple. To category 3)- On a good day, I usually smile and laugh at their stereotype. On days when I am feeling particularly aggressive, I launch into a bhashan about cultural stereotypes. But usually, it's category 2) who make life a little complicated with their persistent questioning.

Generally, I have a rehearsed answer- "Im a Tamilian, but never lived in Tamil Nadu; mostly been brought up in Delhi." But even that's not the whole truth. Because although my parents were born and brought up here and even I was born here, I didn't really grow up here, in the traditional sense. So when someone asks further and starts questioning "Oh which school?", I say "Oh my parents are in the foreign service so I sort of studied all over. But I did my 11th and 12th from Sanskriti." I add the last part, hoping that they would stop the tirade of questions...but I often underestimate the inquisitiveness which is so characteristic of us human beings(!) So then comes the next question "ohhh, where did you grow up?" (yeah, some people are pretty persistent) I proceed to launch into a mini autobiography (more like a mini-geography). Some people, overawed by the mention of so many countries, even go further and ask "How come you don't have an accent then?" or "How come you know Hindi so well?" I even got a "You don't look like you've spent part of your life abroad- you're not classy enough." The last one particularly cracks me up :)

On certain confusing, weird days, I feel like I am from nowhere in particular.

I am a Tamilian, but know nothing about Tamil Nadu, have never lived there, my parents have never lived there, and I have just a smattering of relatives there. I most certainly don't fit into the "Tamil girl" stereotype (at least I don't feel like one). I once got a "You're not dark, you don't wear glasses- you don't look South Indian." UGH.

I am a Delhiite from heart and soul; its the only city I know, its the city I was born in, the city I went to school and college in. But I guess I won't fit into the 'typical' definition of a Delhi girl- I have only spent 11 years in this city (and even thats not 11 years at a stretch).

I have been brought up abroad, but no visible part of me really supports that- i don't have an accent, i am apparently not classy enough.

Major identity crisis in the offing? Not really. The confusion, the complexity becomes me on most days...it's an integral part of who i am. "Where are you from?" is just one of those questions (like this) for which I dont have a one word answer...

What a way to start the new year!

feeling blue

2009-11-26T22:06:00.000-08:00

a certified sentimental fool- thats what i was, am and perhaps shall always will be. guilty as charged.

my phone broke last sunday. actually the cover broke last thursday after i dropped it for the millionth time. but it was working fine. last sunday, after i got up from my afternoon nap, i saw that the screen had become...well...strange. the lcd had broken, i deduced...thus making my phone officially unusable. the repair guy said that it would take 2500 bucks to repair it...and even he said its not worth it "aap naya hi le lo" he told my dad. and off i went, with my parents, to buy a new phone. "it HAS to be nokia" i insisted (im not really a brand conscious person; but nokia works fabulously for people like me, who drop things by just looking at them). so we settled on this new phone, nokia 2700. i don't really dig hi-fi phones, they're somehow not me...dont go well with my 'non-classy' personality ;) this new phone is pretty looking, the front is black, the back is an extremely classy brownish colour (in the words of one of my classmates "it's like a pretty nailpolish!") the features are more or less like my old phone, so no big life altering changes need to be made.

but the deal is; i haven't really bonded with it.

the history of my cell phones is strange, to say the least. i got my first cell phone, a nokia 1100 (it used to be called the truck driver phone) a couple of days before i started undergrad. while i did crib occasionally about how it didnt have radio, it really was an adorable handset and i absolutely loved it. it had a super cool torch light (which really was amazingly bright), it had snake (the old versions were so much better than these new 3-d graphic ones *sigh*) and it was mine. it lasted for two whole years...before my mom decided to exchange phones with me, and i became the proud owner of a camera phone/radio inclusive nokia (im bad with the model numbers). that was a nice phone too...the camera was really crappy, but the message memory was great. i had taken some super cool pics on that...but since it was a pre-bluetooth era phone, they remain on that phone till date. 2 years later the keypad stopped working properly, and after debating whether to buy a new phone, my dad gave me his nokia (bad with model numbers remember?) which is the phone which broke last week.
it was a phone i really loved; it had awesome pictures, it had funny recordings from hostel, my cousin singing a strange song, my mom's wake up call. it is a phone i had cried on, laughed on, spoken for hours on, smsed frantically on. its a phone which i dropped a million times and still found in perfect shape. it was a phone which i could operate in my sleep; my fingers and the keypad were synchronized so incredibly beautifully- it was a magical bond.

and now that phone is gone.

this new phone...is nice. to give it credit, its not giving me any kind of trouble. but its not mine yet. all the previous phones, they became mine from day one. this one isnt really a part of my world yet...i keep forgetting that it exists and keep searching for my old handset when i need to send a message or make a call.

melodramatic? check. insane of the highest order? check. super duper senti fool? check again. yes i am one of those types who could make a soap opera out of the mundane events of everyday life. but i miss the comfort of my old phone. and thats that.

a post dedicated to me!

2009-11-26T06:07:00.000-08:00

thanks nima das...the post brightened up my day and made me realize that i have some awesome bonds with some super awesome people in my life :)

http://pranimadas.blogspot.com/2009/11/books-and-people.html

life's greatest lessons...me-style

2009-11-16T03:38:00.000-08:00

I read something similar to this a while ago...and it got me thinking.

People of my generation are getting married, having kids, moving out of the country, getting fancy jobs with fancier job titles, dealing with in-laws...in short becoming adults! Slowly, life is descending upon all of us in a big way.

So here goes...some of my 22 year old life's greatest lessons. Some are mine, some are borrowed. You may not agree with all of it, but trust me, its all been tried tested and experienced first hand ;)

- Make sure the little kids play as many outdoor games as possible; later in life, its the stories about pitthoo, tag, dog in the pond, hide-and-seek, cricket, basketball, football and its like which will make them smile.

- The best things to eat are fattening and unhealthy...except your mom's food. And if you're naturally fat, you will never become reed thin or even less fat unless you give up your favourite things. So don't overeat and say what the hell coz you will feel bad on seeing those balloon like pictures of yourself, but don't give up your favourite things as well; try a middle path.

- Days seem veryyy long; its the years which pass by in a flash.

- Your parents will be unreasonable at times...hell many times. But when you grow up, you figure out the reason behind the unreasonable-ness...or maybe its just that you're on the road to being unreasonable yourself.

- One of the worst things in life is when two close friends are aiming for the same thing and one succeeds and the other doesnt. It's equally tough to deal for both parties. But if a friendship transcends this situation, it's a strong one.

- Stay in a hostel ONCE in your life. It gives you a million lovely warm memories for life. And makes you extremely creative and innovative; like decorating a room with dupattas, using leftovers to create a feast etc etc.

- Lying to your parents is a horrible thing; it can make you feel super guilty and can haunt you for life. But sometimes, SOMETIMES, it has to be done. For the betterment of the world ;)

- Hugging is awesome! It really has curative properties. It can make a good day better, and a bad day tolerable. And it shows that someone cares.

- Family vacations are the best! Location is irrelevant. People will do crazy things, fight for strange reasons, argue over silly things, and laugh over sillier things. Its always a lot of fun!

- Fighting with your younger/older sibling is a part of life; its like breathing. And there are times when you wish you could exchange your sibling for a better, more well mannered one. But there's no one else in this world who understands life in your household like your sibling does, and definitely no one else in this world who understands the quirks and idiosyncrasies of your parents like your sibling does.

- Surprises are great...if planned well ;) And even if they backfire, it's always fun for the stories.

- To all those people who think gossip is uncool and unhealthy; get lost! Gossiping helps build bonds, it helps to understand different people's perspectives, it gives you information- and its a whole lot of FUN.

- Watch a cricket match with a room full of girls who understand NOTHING about the technicality of the game; the emotions they exude, the shrieking, the shouting, the giggles could beat the scientific analysis of any cricket commentator!

- No family is like a sooraj barjatya family; there are weird characters, people who will be mean, people who dont care, and people who are a big bore. But what matters is that in times of extreme joy and extreme sadness if those people come together- if they do, then you've got a winner of a family!

- No matter how old a person gets, they still love it when you wish them on their birthday.

- Watching a good movie, reading a good book, listening to a good song; they make your day...but you don't feel truly happy unless you share them with others.

- Friendship is the most insane and the coolest relationship in the world; simply because there are no conditions. You can be friends with anyone; someone really old, someone really young, someone who's exactly like you, and someone who couldnt be more different. There really is no bar in friendship.

- A successful marriage is not merely an absence of tragedy/abuse/bad things; its the presence of a million other wonderful things.

- Read! doesn't have to be the booker prize winner or charles dickens...things like delhi times/ht city/filmfare/back page of india today/chicklit can also be extremely informative. But just read!

- No matter what a terrible time you think you are having in school and college you will eventually remember it and say "god those were good times!"

- Compliments are nice. Be generous when complimenting others, it makes their day. And be gracious when accepting compliments, it makes the compliment giver feel nice.

- Very often, it is those who you think will be around FOREVER with whom things don't work out. And the people who you become closest to are those who you never in a million years thought you would even have a decent conversation with. It's a phenomena which is impossible to understand but it is a fact of life.

- Never listen to "tu jo nahin hai toh" from woh lamhe when going through a bad day; it makes you feel even more worse and can make you depressive and suicidal. (But i really do love that song)

- You are really lucky if you have a wonderful extended family, full of aunts/uncles/cousins to pamper you; its during times of stress and trouble when you realize what having so many people around can do for your mental state.

-Friends can come in all shapes, sizes and friendship has many degrees. There are those who you have to tell every detail to, those who are awesome to watch a movie with, those who you can be intellectual with, those who you can be silly with, those who you can talk to for hours and still feel like you havent even begun, those who make your day with a single sms or phone call or ping on gtalk, those who you have nothing to say over the phone to but still love to meet up and talk to in person; the deal is, you love and need all of them!

- You can't make every single person in your life happy with every single decision of yours. Its IMPOSSIBLE. Someone will always have complaints.

- The people who have never seen you cry/shout/irritated/depres

sed/in a bad mood- haven't really seen you. And those who have- they're great coz they love you nevertheless ;)

- Jam sessions are lots of fun! Especially when the people around are fun. But dancing with heels has disastrous consequences.

- There is no ideal work place- either the boss will be bad, the work will be crappy, or the colleagues will be mean , or the office will be too far or the pay will be measly.

- Never get into a relationship with a friend's sibling/cousin. Or a sibling/cousin's friend. Or a friend's friend. Till date, haven't seen it work out happily for all parties involved.

- When something of yours is missing, its possible that you have misplaced it. But never blame anyone; it can spoil relationships, and make you wonder whether you did the right thing.

- It's very often that life's greatest secrets are revealed in the middle of the night; so once in a while, talk to people around that time ;)

- Power cuts/long walks and drives are an awesome time to bond with people.

- Take LOTS of pictures/videos- it may seem silly at that time, but they're wonderful to look at once you leave that moment.

- All families are messed up in some way or the other; some may be too conservative, some may be too lenient, some are too crazy, some are too boring. But they're the people you take for granted, the ones who love you unconditionally, the ones who are there for you without you asking, and the ones who know you better than you know yourself. In short, you cannot survive and live to tell the tale without them :)

- Send long emails; they make people happy. And maybe you'll recieve long emails in return too.

- Preparing for dances for freshers' and farewell parties are always done at the last minute; regardless of what college you are in. It's a pan-college phenomena.

- Everyone thinks their problems are a big deal and they most often are. Never demean someone else's problems.

- Sometimes its important to say the truth; it can save someone from embarrassment. But its equally important to know when not to say the truth.

- A girl and a guy can be friends, best friends in fact; but it is rare.

- Everyone has a strong positive trait. Everyone has something nice about them. But its not necessary for you to like everyone ;)

- Go to India gate at night; it really is one of the bestest sights in the world.

- Run at the maximum speed you can muster up when its raining heavily; its a LOT of fun! But do make sure you dry off immediately and have a lovely cup of hot tea or coffee.

- There will be times when you're upset randomly, when you feel low and you don't know why. It happens to everyone, and the moment passes just as quickly as it came.

- When you're working on an important report chances are very high that your laptop will crash, the power will go before you have saved, something strange will happen to your internet, etc etc. So save like a maniac and email yourself copies constantly; its better to have an overloaded, overpopulated inbox than not having a single copy.

- Never judge someone by their pedigree. Just because someone is from a lower rung college or a small town does not make them dumb and naive.

- Don't be overtly sympathetic towards people who have gone through a tragedy in their life; it makes them feel worse. Be nice and sensitive, but treat them normally.

- You have to have taken some classes in life; dance/music/karate/whatever...they are horrible to go to, but you always look back fondly. And hey, it teaches you something :)

- The world is a small place. You will run into the same people, or people related to people you know, over and over again. This can be good when the people are those you like; and not so good when the people are those you dont like.

- Maturity and age have no direct relationship.

- Cotton candy is messy, and will make your tongue all pink and your skin all sticky; but its damn fun to eat :)

- Be nice to your friends' friends. You may not always like them. But they're your friends' friends; there must be something worth liking about them.

- School trips are super fun; you end up forging the greatest bonds with people over them. And you see a different side of people than you see otherwise.

- Something i read somewhere, which touched me:
'You never stop caring. Even after a broken friendship or a huge fight, you just can't stop. That’s because you've given a piece of your heart away. It’s never coming back to you. And thats why the worst thing in life is to lose a friend, a friend that means the world to you, a friend that you put all your trust and faith in, a friend that you believed in from the start, a friend that took the centre of your heart, a friend that you'd die for, a friend that you wanted to cherish for a lifetime. But it’s important to remember the ways they touched your life. It makes things easier.'

- Living with people who are not family is a learning experience; it tests your patience, your adjustment skills, your ability to handle different sleeping/eating habits and strange mood swings. You will fight with people over silly things like blankets, a bucket of water, notes, messy rooms, clothes, money- but it's these things which are a true test of character and relationships.

- Try to mean it when you say "i love you". But even if you don't mean it and have to say it to make the other person feel better, say it with as much feeling and emotion that you can muster up; it goes a long way.

- Life is a one way street; you can look back but can't ever turn around. So try to give everything your best shot, there's no point regretting and saying "oh i could have done that" later.

Would love to hear any wisdom anyone else has to share :)

the "2 states" i love

2009-10-22T01:02:00.000-07:00

just finished reading *2 states* chetan bhagat's latest venture. and i enjoyed it totally! it was like watching a nice, stress-free movie...one where you dont have to use your brain, but which doesnt make fun of your intellect either. and i definitely dont remember the last time i actually laughed while reading a book! it's definitely not the finest piece of literature...not even close in fact...however, its a book which made me happy.

but i would think twice before recommending the book to everyone. you see, unless you really truly knowww and love both the communities which are the subject of the book- the over exuberant punjabis, and the simple, yet stern tamilians- you probably wont enjoy it like i did. or anyone who loves both these drastically different kind of human species would.
you would have to understand what paneer and dancing at weddings means to punjabis...just like you would have to understand what rules and carnatic music mean to the tamilians. you have to truly have seen the whole लेन देन culture, just like you have to have attended early morning weddings. you have to understand what getting a good deal (in the context of marriage) means in both the communities. you have to know that a iit trained, software engineer son-in-law based in the US means to the tamil brahmin what the super rich girl with 6 petrol pumps in her family means to the punjabi. taking sides while reading *2 states* would just ruin the fun...you cant say you liked the malhotras more than the swaminathans, or that the swaminathans were cooler than the malhotras...it would just kill the soul of the book.

i am one of those lucky few (yes i consider myself that) to be a part of both these awesome, yet drastically different cultures. i understand the rules of the tamilian as well as the "ki farak penda hai" attitude of the punjabi. i relish the paneer as much as i crave for the rasam. i can dance at punjabi weddings, as well as i can (well try to) make sense of carnatic music. i love bollywood, but i love watching rajnikant movies too. we mix the punjabiness with the tamilianness in my household- at my cousin's wedding recently, amidst all the brahmin rituals, we engaged in heavy duty jhappiyan and pappiyan. we are as loud and exuberant as the punjabis, just like we're as education obsessed and rule conscious as the tamilians. we have rajma chawal and good old thayir sadam (curd rice) in the same meal. we celebrate diwali both tamilian and dilli style...i love how we celebrate rakhi (which isnt celebrated down south) with the same joy that we celebrate pongal (sankranti- a biggg celebration down south) i love how tirupati and vaishno devi are both equally special to us. to the pessimist, we may seem confused....i would say we're cool enough to take the best of both the cultures.

so yay to *2 states*- not only for being an awesome read...but also for making me think about the two states and cultures, which shape me, and which i love oh-so-much :)

मुझे वहां ले चलो...

2009-09-21T05:43:00.000-07:00

मुझे वहां ले चलो
जहाँ हवाएं अपनी सी थी।
जहाँ की घास ठंडी सी थी।
जहाँ सूरज की रोशनी चुभती न थी।
जहाँ वृक्षों की छाँव में घुटन न थी।
जहाँ इमारतें बाहें फैलाती थी।
जहाँ हर सड़क दिल को छूकर जाती थी।
जहाँ हर फूल मुस्कुराता था.
जहाँ सब मेरे आपे में था।

मुझे वहां ले चलो
जहाँ कोई भी गैर, पराया न था।

a new world...a new life

2009-09-18T09:03:00.000-07:00

JNU... to me, it was always like the IIT's- something to look upto, a place to be in awe of- but a place i was not allowed to dream about. and here i am...a certified student of JNU, attending classes...and having that campus referred to as mine.

one can be forgiven for thinking of jnu as *just a campus*- its anything but that. its a world of its own- it has its own politics, its own culture, its own lingua franca...its own ways of doing and saying things. there's everything inside there- millions of canteens, multiple photocopy shops, a whole row of book shops, a big library for each dept AND two huge libraries, a big market (with its own mother diary and other shops), lotssss of hostels...and a wholeeee lot of people.
my beloved old south campus- with all its buildings situated in a circular fashion, one canteen, one cute photocopy shop, one library, one girls hostel, and two boys hostels...and an everyone knows everyone sort of atmosphere- seems very village like in comparison.

and its not just the physicality...the culture of jnu is unlike anything i have ever witnessed before. students hold dharnas, and seem to genuinely believe for certain causes...graffitti is everywhere...there are anti-marx posters, anti-hindutva posters, anti-opening of nescafe posters, posters announcing dharnas for various reasons...at times it seems that jnu is anti-everything...
the people are so different...it actually is a mini india...im one of the three delhiites in a class of 21 in my class- its strange to be in a class where people dont know of north/south campus, or dont go to CP often, or shop at sn or janpath...hell im sure some of them dont even know of priyas. they refer to *dilli* as a foreign country...for them, jnu is all the delhi they need to know.
everyone seems to be stupendously intelligent...they know about everything..they talk of things which dont even sound like english...let alone sound familiar. and they're all intelligent in a very nonchalant way...in the beginning, during our free periods when the class would go out for tea, the topics of discussion ranged from Indo-US nuclear deal to Max Mueller's work on India...if you walk around campus, you hear people saying things like "oh he specializes in medieval history" "oh i would love to read your article"...it was all so alien, so strange...

its easy to be overwhelmed by the multiplicity and largeness of everything in jnu. it may sound strange, coming from someone who's studied in delhi for the past 7 years...but this world is starkly different from everything which i called *college* earlier. its been more than a month...but i still feel very much like a participant observer of some DU vs JNU comparative experiment. i feel like im here to take notes, and go back...
i still feel comfortable referring to myself as a DU girl; i spent five years inside that system, living and breathing the good and the bad of it...its become a part of my identity. i wonder if ill ever call myself a JNU girl, without it sounding like a pretense to my own ears...

hope...and faith

2009-06-18T04:53:00.000-07:00

no this post is not about the show on star world (of which i havent seen a single episode).

this post is about my recent trip to one of the most revered pilgrimages of this country- vaishno devi. no it wasnt my first trip, in fact it was my third. but it was perhaps the first time that i have really put thought into the topic of this post.

during the 12 km long steep climb, one of the members of our 9 member entourage asked "so why are we going here?" to that, my dad replied "well you see the story is that the rakshas bhairon was chasing the goddess and..." before he could complete, the questioner said "toh humhe kya? why are we climbing this steep hill?" there was a little bit of silence...and then some explanations were given...like how its all a matter of faith, and belief. and the famous saying: na maane toh pathhar, maano toh bhagwan. my dad said something about how you should sacrifice something (in this case you exert yourself physically) to attain something (in this case darshan) for it to be worthwhile. my mom said something about there being total focus since you're climbing this steep hill and you're giving it your all physically. the questioner was partially convinced...and we all continued to walk.

but the question remained with me- why is it that lakhs of people, from all corners of the country and across all strata of society, undertake an arduous journey, to get darshan of this mata vaishno devi, for a fraction of a minute? (interesting point to note- there is no idol or photo of mata; she is said to have manifested in the form of three stones, "pinds" they call it) there are people who walk barefoot the whole way, those with physical handicaps, people carrying their infant children the whole way, old people (and i mean old like 80 yr olds) walking slowly....just for a fraction of a minute. to the cynic or the atheist, it would seem sheer stupidity. to the believer, its faith.

i wouldnt call myself a very religious person- i dont pray daily or follow (or even know) many rituals...but im not a cynic or an atheist. i believe in a superpower, a power greater than humans, something which controls this universe. i find peace in certain places of worship, i have certain quirks which you may attribute to religion.
the greatest thing, i think, is faith- a kind of immense and unconditional trust, faith in your god, a state of total surrender, which perhaps drives people to walk 12 km up on a steep hill. it is a belief that mata would solve all their problems...or a kind of a thank you to mata for solving all their problems.

the climb up vaishno devi is an interesting experience...my mom, when explaining the why, stated "do you remember your worries while climbing? you are in an almost trance like state...you dont remember your office problems or the problems at home. you are just climbing."

unless you are a hardcore cynic, hell bent on proving that this climb is sheer stupidity, its difficult for you to remain untouched by the experience of this journey. its by no means easy- there are sharp turns, there are really steep stretches, at times it rains heavily, there are ponies/horses/donkeys all the way leaving veryyy less room to climb at times, its very cold and c-r-o-w-d-e-d at the top, and you may have to wait for hours to get a darshan (not to forget the body aches and pulled muscles you endure)...but the fun of the climb, the sights of all kinds of people walking up the mountains and the sheer ignorance to the physical pain, and the feeling one has during and after the journey, is absolutely indescribable.

much like life itself.

they say faith can move mountains. maybe. to me, the greatest thing is that it moves people.

Magical Sunset

2009-06-10T03:21:00.000-07:00

The sky started to turn darker, as if it was cloaking itself to keep prying eyes from looking. The many hues of the clouds blended together in compromise, not fighting anymore for space in the sky. A gentle breeze came in, unsure of its surroundings at first, but slowly ruffling the leaves. The magnificent and radiant sun, which had warmed everything during the day, bowed out gracefully and allowed the moon to replace it for the night. The curtains slid through, telling us that today's show was over; it was sunset. But it would happen again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after...

(written during English Elective exam, 1st term, 11th grade- who knew one could write sense during exams???)

being a 'kanya'

2009-04-29T09:36:00.000-07:00

i went to someone's place today, to be a part of some ceremony where they needed married women and one 'kanya'...which i qualified for. the purpose of that was to wish everyone a happy married life...or something to that effect. it wasnt a big ceremony, basically they washed our feet and served us nice food and then gave us a small token and said tata. apparently, they couldnt find an unmarried girl for a long time and i came as godsent. so all the aunties thanked me profusely, much to my embarrassment.
i couldnt figure out why i had gone there, or why it was all happening. and i found it particularly interesting to note one of the aunties who was the resident 'principal' as everyone was calling her- she was guiding people what to do, how to do, what not to do, which side to stand, who is to do what, etc etc.

the thing about these ceremonies is, we dont know their significance half the time. we dont know why we're supposed to be doing this or that. me and dad were discussing today that many ceremonies/rituals were made for a specific reason, most of which is obsolete today. like we have this ritual in tamil brahmin marriages where after the 'marriage' part, the bride and groom play with coconuts and break 'papads' and things...it was made for child marriages to engage the children, but now of course, 25/30 yr olds play those games. similarly there is this one ritual where the bride and groom sit on a 'jhoola' for some time.
my dad was telling me today why there is a difference in the death rituals of hindus and muslims...i mean one of the reasons why. islam was founded in the arab world, where its all desert and sand, and no wood...so they buried their people. while india had lots of trees and thus lots of wood and thats why they burnt the dead. interesting explanation no?!

i attended a wedding once, where the pandit actually explained the significance of every single ritual and small thing...it was so fascinating...and made the whole ceremony so meaningful. but people like that pandit are far and few; most people dont know the significance of the things they make people do, and if they do, they lack the time/patience/skill/intention to spread the knowledge.

its kind of sad if you think about it, i mean we're part of such a rich culture, full of rituals and ceremonies which have deep significance and tremendous meaning. which were made for a reason. and we dont know most of it. we follow them blindly, without realizing their deeper significance and why we're following them.

guess thats that.

an ode to SC- my life, and home, for the past two years

2009-04-27T06:46:00.000-07:00

sometime in may 2007

mom- "i have a feeling you'll get through south campus"
me- "huh??? WHY?"
mom- "i just do."
me- "why cant you have a feeling that ill get through north?"
mom- "its just a feeling."

july 2007: I joined south campus for my M.A. in applied psychology, after not having made it anywhere else, after having waited for 2 hellish weeks. two years later, im all set to leave it.

what will i take with me when i leave this place? many many many memories. memories of random classes with one-of-a-kind professors. personality classes where Prof J would go off on a tangent most of the time, and forget what he was teaching. social classes, where SSV would go on and on and on and on about beliefs and positive psychology and laugh like...well, SSV! you cannot describe her laughter. classes with cherry blossom (that was the name bhavishya had given him in first year!) which absolutely made no sense and which would result in a million arguements. classes with gcg, mm, sen sir, arvind sir....they all had their quirky memories. ill take back memories of the north-south drama of last year, of a million letters written, and of the various meetings. ill take back memories of freshers and farewells, of preparing dances at the last moment, of organizing the food and the funds and the decorations. of bhavishya's jokes and animated way of narrating things. of swati's hyper behaviour. of sally's laughter and singing. creyzee's...creyzeeness(!). of other classmates' distinctive behaviour. of awesome seniors, and distant juniors. of sinead's rebt sessions and ssv's awe after that. ill take back memories of birthdays, and random gossip sessions.

south campus wasnt just my college, or the place where i studied. i lived here for two years...geetanjali hostel was 'home'. convincing auto-wallas to go drop us inside the campus used to be such a task- no one wanted to come inside! the random songs we made every single day. the creating 'gossip' out of non-issues, just for entertainment purposes. i could write reams on the hostel. every single day has been eventful- some funny or tragic incident, some idiotic act done or brilliant words spoken. as i leave, many things will be with me forever. like hostel nights. freshers, farewells, lohri parties, christmas parties. special dinners and the lines in the mess, the shortage of chairs on those days. the warden and the provost's funny-ness. the issues in the mess. robert bhaiyya. didu bhaiyya- the insanest guard EVER. aashima di's lectures and the way she narrates stories of the years gone by. the looks of all those people who used to stare at our eccentricity. making mahima read freud and getting sadistic pleasure out of her dumbstruck and horrified expressions. fms cultural evening- unforgettable! UDSC's diwali meet- unforgettable X a million! the canteen food. the photocopy shop. satya- its food, the mother diary shop, the good uncle ji's shop, the cute aunty's shop, the sadu uncle's shop, R's images and the strange uncle there. funny juniors, and highly entertaining seniors. juni. coming to hostel after a long break and being hugged by friends. the four of us- and the antics we were constantly up to. our fights and our discussions, every strange thing (and there were a LOT of those) that happened with/to/because of us- being just us.
my first night in hostel, i had gotten up at 1 in the night and saw sd and isha drag a table out of their room, coz they feared a spider inside it. the seriousness with which isha said it that night, and the way sd looked (her tiny hair oiled and braided) is an image ill never forget.

south campus. the place where i found my joy and my peace of mind again. the place i called home for two years. where i laughed and cried. where i gossiped and bitched. the place which saw many outbursts, of joy and of sadness. the dept which we all loved to hate and hated to love. im not sad to be leaving it- it was a greatttt two years, and now its time to move on. but south campus was... just the besht!

The Island Kingdom

2009-04-01T05:45:00.000-07:00

Bahrain- The smallest country I have ever been to, with a population of 6 lakhs (of which 3 lakhs are indians) and travelling from one corner to the other takes a maximum of an hour (if there's 'traffic' then an additional 15 mins MAX).

one of my favourite places in the world, the mere mention of which brings a smile to my face. A place I will always associate with good times and lots of happiness. Bahrain was home for the past three and a half years, and now, as the family is moving back to Delhi, I feel strange; im thrilled that they're coming back, because the wait has been long. Im ecstatic at the idea of the four of us together in Delhi again. Im finally going to be 'home' again.

But Bahrain was really special. I loved the 'small-ness' and the 'everybody knows everybody' feeling one got there. You couldnt even go to the hospital without bumping into someone you know (of course it could get pretty intrusive sometimes, but still). I loved the fact that me and my brother were 'celebrity kids'- our parents were pretty well known there, and going from the anonymity of life in Delhi, it was quite fun being important there!
For my 3rd year project, I travelled the length and breadth of Bahrain, interviewing 16 families. It was in many ways, one of the most humbling experiences of my life, coz i relived many moments of their lives with them. Whenever I saw any member of any of these 16 families later on, I was always greeted warmly; that means a LOT of warm greetings :)

there was MUCH that was characteristic of Bahrain- the variety of food (Italian, Mexican, Lebanese, even the Indian...and of course the junk food, the cheese, the chocolates, the fruit juices), the laziness that used to overpower me the minute i landed at the airport, and manifested in forms of endless sleeping and tv watching during my stay, the random outings with my parents to various social events, people giving speeches at ALL occasions (even wedding receptions)...it was all so Bahrain.

I wanted to write this post for quite some time...but now that i have finally come down to it, i realize how difficult it is to write about Bahrain. It's hard to pin down what I loved about the place, and what I will miss. It's strange to get used to the idea that there will be no more trips to Bahrain, that perhaps Ill never be back there again in quite the same way. Goodbyes have never been easy, and this one is tremendously bittersweet.

of a trip to, and from, north campus

2009-03-17T05:25:00.000-07:00

while coming back from north campus today, i was sitting in the metro and observing people around me (something which i often do when i have no music or reading material or when neither interests me very much) there was a young woman who got on around 5 minutes after i did, with her little baby daughter. the woman couldnt have been more than 25. she sat down with her daughter and tried to make her comfortable, and i got busy staring into space again. around 10 minutes later, a big group of school students got on, and stood right next to me. they were chit chatting at a very loud pitch about their just concluded board exam and found many reasons to giggle and make fun of each other. i found it quite amusing and as i looked away from them, i caught the young mother looking at them, with a strange expression- a mixture of sadness, envy, wishfulness. i observed her for quite some time, and she smiled so many times during that ride, whilst observing these young school girls. i really wondered what was going on in her mind- did she want to be like that again, carefree and worrying not about her house or her baby, but just about her upcoming exam? did she remember her school days, of times when she wore her uniform shirt, and had disheveled hair, and laughed with her friends about silly things? its rare for me to feel like that for a stranger woman in a span of a few minutes, but for some unknown reason, i truly felt for that girl. strange.

on another note, it was amazing to go back to college today. going back to college reaffirms my faith in DU, in hope for the system. the profs havent changed a bit in their affection, they came running out of class to meet us, to ask us how we were and to offer words of encouragement, as always. there's a lot of weird memories associated with college, things i would much rather forget...but i am glad that some things never change.

which language do you think in?

2009-02-26T09:20:00.000-08:00

my answer: i dont know.

when people ask me how many languages i know; i say "three; tamil, hindi and english".
tamil is my mother tongue, my native language. i speak tamil with my parents and my brother, my grandmother and some other relatives. but from tamil nadu standards, my tamil is, to put mildly, RUBBISH. my vocabulary is severely limited, my tamil is accented (now what accent it is, no one knows), and i dont understand typical tamil words. in fact, i never ever understand tamil songs in the first go...its almost like im listening to english songs. i cant write tamil and my tamil reading skills are a notch above those of an illiterate.

my hindi on the other hand, is quite decent, for someone who's only studied hindi till the 4th. in fact, my hindi's better than many of those, who have stayed in india all their lives. i give the credit to my love for hindi movies. my hindi's not accented (at least thats what people tell me). but my hindi reading speed is slowwww...and lets not even get started about my hindi writing.

english is perhaps the language i am best at. i can speak it well (the blabbering, fumbling and sheer incoherence can be attributed to nervousness, social phobia and anxiety), i write it well (ya ok im immodest; but it IS a talent i have), and i understand it well too!

{oh and i know a tad bit of french too. i learnt it for 5 yrs. i spoke passable french for a year. now, my knowledge of francais is limited to words i read on the back of bottles and packages}.

so i know all these languages. yeah. but i dont know what language i think in. the minute i start to think about what language i think in, i get conscious and i stop thinking about what i was thinking in the first place, and start thinking about what language i think in.

its definitely not tamil. unless im thinking about a conversation with my parents or brother. its definitely a lot of english, because its a language i feel comfortable with. it could be hindi too...but not so much. maybe 75% english and 25% hindi. or maybe 80% english, 15% hindi and 5% tamil.

i should seriously figure out which language i think in. im getting restless now.

M-u-s-i-c...and me :)

2009-02-23T09:25:00.001-08:00

it's not like i dont like english music. over the years, putting in much effort, i have grown to like many english songs. i like the occasional "hotel california". i can develop a taste for "carnival of rust". i can fall in love with a "what if". i can be inspired by "i hope you dance". i can groove with the beats of "superstar" (after a million hearings, courtesy my roommate). i can be mesmerized by "when you say nothing at all". i can like the occasional jack johnson, and goo goo dolls (thanx to the twin's influence).

but at heart, i am so totally, unconditionally "bollywood".

i relate so much better to bollywood music. with bollywood, i dont need lyrics or multiple hearings to make sense of the song at one go. its more 'me'. i need the item numbers to pep me up when on a walk or during a journey. i need the old songs of kishore and rafi when im in a melancholic/contemplative mood. i feel like listening to lata's "satyam shivam sundaram","yeh galiyaan", "ek raadha ek meera", "aapki nazaron ne samjha" or any other old song of hers, when i feel like listening to pure unadulterated music. on one of the worst days of my life, i listened to "tu jo nahin" from woh lamhe, continuously for hours altogether. i turn to bollywood when im in a bad mood, when im in a good mood, when im blank, when im working, when im euphoric, and when im tragedy struck.

with movies its still different. i love movies in all the languages which i understand (although i am still tilted or rather leaning, towards bollywood). but with music, all my loyalties are always towards bollywood. always.

MRIDANG 09

2009-02-19T23:11:00.000-08:00

what. an. experience.

it had everything: fun, tension, conflicts, fashion, arguments, difference of opinions, egos, laughter fits, financial crunches, messy hands, frantic phone calls, gifts, chocolates, flowers, colours...everything.

in one sentence, i would say that it was one of the BEST times of my life. not just the hostel night itself, but the whole run up to it: the rehearsals, the shopping for prizes, breaking our heads over budgeting all the prizes, the auto rides, the random jokes which only a select few would understand and find funny, the goof ups, the confusions.

There was the shopping in a myriad of places; ARCHIES (whether its the priyas one or the one in satya niketan, both feel like home now), NESTLE (nothing short of a trip to chocolate heaven- where/when else in my life would i have been given 4000 bucks and told to shop for chocolates?! even if they werent for me!), the local phool wala (i have never argued over gende ke phool and rose petals in my life!). i did rangoli, picked up bricks, helped with the backdrop, ran around all over the place, watched the same dances and heard the same songs over and over again.

I was honoured multiple times (!)- i signed certificates, lit the lamp, gave out presents to chief guests...something which i had never ever done in my life. and if i ever do it again, it sure cant be as much as fun as it has been now.

last year, i won a prize for being the best dancer. it was a pleasant surprise, coz i hadnt danced with the intention of winning anything. this year, there were no such surprises, it was all about backstage work, the work that no one really sees. but there was a strange kind of fulfillment this year, this hostel night, was MY hostel night. mridang 08 was fun for the dances, the songs and the people...mridang 09 was fun for the sense of ownership i had over it. from start to finish, i was there throughout.

as creyzeee would say, "it was the besht!"

(one of the reasons why hostel nite was special- THIS is the collage which me and two of my dearies made and won FIRST prize, out of 13 teams...many of these teams actively dislike us for our nonsensical behaviour. and this victory, was a :P for them!)

random old post

2009-02-12T05:39:00.000-08:00

Was going through my old blog, and found this post. This incident happened about two years ago, May 07, right around the time when I had gone to Bahrain after my final undergrad exams.

There's some strange, almost divine connection between the Raghunathan family and nights without electricity...we have a way of managing through nights with NO power. No matter which part of the world we are, its something which just finds us...

at around 6 pm yesterday, when Mrs. R and Ms. R (yours truly :D) returned from their evening walk, they see the entrance of their beloved Biljeek building clouded in darkness, implying a power cut, IMPLYING that the main gates won't open...so Mrs. R, worried about the younger Mr.R inside, calls up the house..

Mrs. R: "There's no power, how do we get in? What are u doing alone in the darkness?"
the younger Mr.R: "There is electricity. Wait i'm coming to the main door."

Soon enough, the doors are pushed open by the younger Mr.R and when the three walk into the house, they see just the lobby bulbs burning wayyyyyyyyy too brightly...apparently, none of the bulbs were working and there was a lot of fluctuation happening. Not really bothered too much about the situation, Mrs. R and Ms. R proceed to take their post exercise showers (separately of course)...and in a matter of a few minutes, both the bathrooms have NO light...so amidst a lot of shouting and voltage fluctuations, both the ladies, shower quickly and come out...sure enough, its just the main lobby light which was shining wayyyyyyyy too brightly. Mrs. R then decides to call Bahauddin, the Bangladeshi caretaker of the building.

Mrs. R: "Bahauddin, jaldi aao, bahut electricity fluctuation ho raha hai"

While this conversation was taking place, Ms. R hears a loud noise, which sounds like a tire bursting, and also like the sound the washing machine makes when its done washing the clothes.

Ms. R : I heard something strange...maybe its from outside?"
the younger Mr. R: "THERE'S SMOKE IN THE TV ROOM!!! THE TV'S BURNING!"

Mrs. R (still on the phone with Bahauddin): "BAHAUDDIN, HAMARA TV BURST HO GAYA...JALDI AAO!" (undoubtedly one of my favourite moments of the evening)

Coming back to the smoke in the tv room, sure enough, there's a whole cloud of smoke coming from the back of television and Ms. R and the younger Mr.R quickly turn of all the switches in the house and open the windows in the TV room...Mrs. R meanwhile calls Mr. R and tells him to come home quickly, owing to the crisis situation. Meanwhile only one light is on at the house, which too fluctuates constantly.

So, Mr. R comes and true to his reputation as problem solver, goes out and finds out what the scene is like...he comes back with the news that every house in the building has had some mishap of the TV bursting variety. Later it is discovered that the whole electrical wiring of the building is totally burnt, so the small electricians go after inspecting and promise to send the other more experienced ones soon. It seems as if the night will be long. In the meantime, the one lone light which was bringing some brightness to the house, also goes off...so the house runs on one candle, and two cellphones.
By 9 30 it is decided that both the Mr.R's will go to the embassy to sleep in Mr. R's spacious office room, as the younger Mr. R has to get up at 5 the next morning to go to school. Meanwhile, Mrs. R and Ms. R lie down on the kitchen floor (the only place, apart from the bathrooms of the house, which is NOT carpeted), pillows in tow. The men leave, only to be back in a few minutes saying that apparently the electricians will come soon.

With a brief interruption caused by the ringing of Mr. R's cellphone at 11 pm, Ms. R sleeps off peacefully in the kitchen floor (thus adding further evidence to the theory that she can sleep ANYWHERE) and is woken at 12 30 by the bright tubelight of the kitchen and Mr. R saying that there's a generator at work and we can all sleep peacefully now.

Waking up at 6 30 am the next morning, Ms. R finds out that everything which was plugged in, has been damaged; microwave, refrigerator, two air conditioners, laptop charger, one cell phone charger, cordless phone and of course, the burnt TV. The whole day then proceeds with a bunch of electricians walking in and out of the house, taking fridge, microwave with them and other people coming to inspect the air conditioners...

of course, the funniest joke of the day involved a punjabi electrician and Mr. R.
punjabi electrician, walking into Biljeek building and looking at Mr. R says "Good night sirji."
Mr. R (pausing for a fraction of a second, wondering WHY on earth the electrician was saying good night when he's just come in, then realizing that it was his way of wishing...akin to good morning, good evening) replies back "Good night ji, kaise ho?"...it was one of those, you had to be there moments.

oh what a night....

These are a few of my favourite things...revisited

2009-01-17T07:44:00.000-08:00

so i wanted to update my blog. but couldnt think of what to write about. dissertation has been whined and cribbed about, the love for HIMYM has been discussed; i live a boring life so nothing exciting really happens...well nothing worth a blog post really, no current event has really affected/bugged/touched me. i dont want to write about the movies i have seen or the books i have read...not for now at least. and i didn't want to write about a stone (as I had once advised a friend who was just as clueless as to what to write about)

so decided to tweak an old post of mine, from my old blog. It was inspired by one of my favourite songs "these are a few of my favourite things..." from one of my favourite movies since childhood (even before DDLJ happened)- THE SOUND OF MUSIC- the best musical ever! On re-reading the post, I realized that some things were obsolete (like DU strikes/U-specials) and some needed to be added (like South Campus!). So here it is, the revised edition of some of my favourite things in the world, things which make me smile/laugh/happy.

curling up in a bed and reading a novel. DDLJ. practically anything with sugar in it. watching a movie first day first show. family reunions. new years. birthdays. playing cards till the wee hours of the morning with family. waiting at the airport or station to recieve someone. when india wins against pakistan. weddings. good hair days. chatting with old friends online. seeing the indian flag. hugging. my nephews. singing off key. travelling.F.R.I.E.N.D.S. my friends. staying up all night and talking. south campus. BONDING TIME. manhattan at night. laughing so hard my tummy hurts. piping hot pizza. the smell of rain. shopping for hours and then finding the perfect outfit. internet.getting a sweet sms from a loved one. 'flying on a jet plane'. shah rukh khan. MOVIES. writing. my parents. my family. compliments. romantic stories. waking up to a beautiful morning. gossip. the smell of rain. standing up for the national anthem and singing it at the top of my lungs. coffee. getting emails. old photographs. sitting in the winter sun. hot tea in the afternoons. HARRY POTTER. little kids. wearing new clothes. diwali. doing 108 at the temple. praying and getting what i want. surprises. the delhi skyline from the skies. paneer. canadian fall. the first snow of the winter. passionately about something. talking for hours on the phone. re-reading my favourite parts from my favourite books. hearing a favourite song being played on the radio. waking up from a nice long nap. reliving old memories.

this was FUN...i think ill do it again sometime :)

HIMYM

2009-01-07T23:38:00.000-08:00

that's How I Met Your Mother. my latest obsession (courtesy the twin).

im a die hard F.R.I.E.N.D.S loyalist. much of my wisdom, humour, anecdotes, basically MUCH of what I say can be traced back to friends. i think ive seen all the episodes, and some I know like the back of my hand. i may not be able to watch all the episodes again (or maybe i can); but i LOVE the concept of friends till date. its the awesomest show EVER.

I liked HIMYM from the first episode. But I thought it had a serious Friends hangover. The same central place of hanging out (in this its a pub), five friends, the right cocktail of madness and seriousness...a lot of similarities. But then again, everything in the world can be related to Friends.

howEVER, HIMYM is HIMYM. ross rachel phoebe monica chandler joey can NEVER be replaced...but i have grown to love marshall/lily's love story, ted's quest to find the perfect girl (he's such a perfect guy), robin's weird job of a news anchor for a segment which NO one watches and of course barney...aah barney; with his suits, his lingo (awesome-ness and legendary are barney words from now on) and his crazy wacky ideas. they are awesome people, and their lives are super fun to watch.

I officially louveeee HIMYM :)

2008: the year that was

2008-12-30T07:13:00.000-08:00

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:

shifting rooms in the hostel- hey it was big deal leaving my beloved room 103.
my old roommate moving out (who i continue to miss).
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.
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 :)

inflation? or just bad luck?

2008-12-23T04:40:00.000-08:00

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?

Bitter Chocolate- Revisited

2008-12-08T05:39:00.001-08:00

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.

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

the rape of a country

2008-11-30T07:38:00.000-08:00

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.

Destiny's Child

2008-11-15T22:07:00.000-08:00

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

My Place

2008-11-13T04:33:00.000-08:00

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

November 10th, 2008

2008-11-10T06:41:00.001-08:00

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 :)

2008-11-10T02:38:00.000-08:00

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.

The perils of multi-tasking

2008-11-09T05:12:00.000-08:00

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?

President Obama it is

2008-11-07T10:06:00.000-08:00

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?!

random post from old blog

2008-11-05T06:52:00.000-08:00

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.

6. MORE. MONTHS.

2008-10-15T06:33:00.001-07:00

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!

Dissertation Dilemmas

2008-09-16T05:23:00.000-07:00

*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.

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

2008-08-21T10:11:00.001-07:00

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!

internship- highs and lows

2008-06-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

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!

The way I see it

2008-01-24T08:17:00.000-08:00

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.

THE KITE RUNNER

2008-01-19T11:35:00.000-08:00

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.