Bombay times!

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?

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

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

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

***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!!!"

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?

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.