Ramblings of a disorganised mind

In Memoriam

2009-11-16T13:40:00.000-08:00

I love her. You know you love her when all day you crave to sit on that uncomfortable step, caressing her fingers and listening to all the tales they tell, both before and after you look how she closes her eyes when she kisses you with those oh-so-soft lips and even the yellow light glistening on her flawless skin can’t distract you. When you can voice that erupting sentiment only with a touch. When you discover more meaning to your existence because she was there.

She was there. When he did all those things of which we don’t speak. Both of them. How could he? After I made myself so vulnerable? After being there and staying there for him? After making mountains out of molehills and molehills out of mountains? I huffed and puffed and blew the house down. Sure enough, the three little pigs moved into the brick house. “Let’s see you break this,” they said. You know you’re in love when that sort of thing doesn’t bother you. When you’re telling her how bad you feel about this and that and you know she can’t for the life of her understand why you’re fussing so much for something so small and doesn’t try to either, you think to yourself – that’s not a flaw; it doesn’t take away from perfection. Thoda sa hurdurra, was it? Or the whole verse? Rehna tu hai jaisa tu. I’m humming again. She didn’t like it when I hummed but said she liked it when I sang. I’ll stop humming now. Sorry.

“Sorry. Can you forget about it?” You know you’re in love when the last thing you want to do is ‘forget about it’ but you tell yourself, “if that’s how she wants it, that’s how it’s gonna be.” When you silence all those skeptical voices – “no ifs and buts. So what if she’s being unreasonable? She’s having a hard time….… Oh come on! You need to be on your guard only with people who will take advantage of you when you’re being nice.” Fool. When it doesn’t take much to convince yourself that she knows who you are and has loved you for that, loves you for that. Right, that was Present Perfect and Present tense. That describes it better than anything else. It really was.

It really was. So tuneless! Oh if that isn’t a sign of love nothing is. When you remember that off-key, tuneless tune and words like ‘tumhari siva’ pregnant with meaninglessness for you. I really must have loved her if I can recall that. With fondness.

With fondness, she says it again. Makes me unforget what I forgot for her. Fondly makes me out to be a villain. You know, the-no-time-for-wife-I-must-work variety. And she, the ever-compromising wife who is willing to end it all – “talk about” “us”. But here’s the twist, one that Agatha Christie herself would have been proud of. She killed Roger Ackroyd. And to think she fooled me into thinking it could have been me! Roger Ackroyd, that pleasant Present Perfect man who would have grown old and happy if not for her. The motive? Not the usual ones – not money, not rage, not anger. No no, certainly not love. What was it then? If only this murderer kept a diary; if only she didn’t like everything off-the-record. But I do know one thing and believe it to be as true as the sky is blue. Yup, she did it. It was her.

It was her. Unrushed, the soft appeal of the Sunday white (not the strawberry suit this time). Walking towards me with the usual swish of her below-the-knee-but-just-above-the-ankle skirt, casually stopping the lovely hair from sliding across her yellow light reflecting cheeks. You know something is wrong when it’s not a Sunday or the Sunday white. You know something is wrong when you can’t bear to look at her. Earlier I needed a touch to convey meaning, now sight alone brings too much of it – past present and future Imperfect. You know something is wrong when she walks right past you. And you past her. You know something is wrong when the three little pigs in their brick house bother you again. You know something is wrong when she walks right past you and into the brick house with them. Them? Really? After all that they’ve done and undone? Despite crossing the uncrossable lines in the intoxication of the night? When did treachery, lies and seduction become less culpable than I? Unpoetic Justice from a self-proclaimed hater of poetry. As I walk past her and she past me, I notice that she’s left clues everywhere. I know why she murdered Roger Ackroyd. Both he and I were the red herrings all along. We couldn’t come between she and them. Maybe that’s why she killed him so cruelly? As I mourn over his death, I know something is wrong when I force myself to think – I loved her.

Guest

Closure.

2008-12-01T11:35:00.000-08:00

Three knocks on the door that don't ask ' are you in?' but demand admittance. Door opens,

"You're a welcome change! Would you like to come in?"
Graceful entrance, unrushed.

"What would you like to do? Play a game?
Talk? Negotiate(,) if you prefer"

Responds by holding up a tea mug?

"Oh tea! That's fine by me. I'd like some myself thank you very much"

Tea poured into cups, two swift smooth motions. At the same time, boasting about clean nails. just for a second.

"Hey! I saw that. Are you mocking my incompetence?"

Perhaps all this is because of schooling. Strangers aren't allowed in the hostels I hear.
The past, that is.
The dust has settled, why make it rise? But isn't it better to live without dust at all?
The past, that is.
The show is almost over, let us smile during the finale at least. But are we thinking about the same show?
The past, that is.

Enough! The past, that is? was, no?
Lovely. eyes meet eyes. At last there is something, even if it is reproach.

"All right, now that we're done with tea... movie?"
slides the phone. talks in a wordless whisper? Yes, there are other people. Its not just me.

I return to my music. We bond noisily as wordless whispers continue.

Call is over now. Hands twitch. Eyes dart. Unrushed yet restless.

Time for a dance? Slow waltz or steamy salsa?
suddenly. Music gets louder, milk boiling on the stove, door bells ringing madly.

"Can't dance now!"

Phew!
Later,I begin to look. find what I want on the easy-chair.
Head on the knees, listening to music.

A hesitant rapprochement "we'll pass time by telling stories?"

"Oh sure sure. strictly about others."

There is laughter, sadness and everything in between. Now what?...
Fingers speak of possibilities.

And then the error. Down came the rain and washed the spider out.
"I must work, you know." Not a torrent of words, but maybe a torrent of meaning.

just as suddenly exits. Call from an Ideal perhaps.

But the door is left open.... And there is the phone... But these murmurs are drowned by the silence - vacant chair, empty tea cup and missing head phones. Music, but no headphones. Memories, but no canvas.
Past, no present.

But surely, there's no dance without music?
Wake up! Look around!

Wealth exists without wisdom.

P.S. - The noise of feet crunching gravel signaled the end. I couldn't bear to look. Not into the eyes. Not even at the graceful hand gestures. And the bangle-sound as she made the gestures. not like the not-looking made it any easier. But looking would perhaps acknowledge the truth - that I remain vulnerable. The end is never final - doesn't ensure the cessation of the hurt. Not sure what it does. Matchstick boy what will he do?

Delhi, Debate and Derrida

2008-10-16T03:23:00.000-07:00

Blogging is a curious enterprise. When I started, I found that it was a cost-effective platform to write about things you think about. Soon, however, it becomes difficult to write without thinking about the 'audience' you're writing for. Now 'knowing the audience' is supposed to be essential for a good writer, but who really cares?

Just back from a debate in Delhi. I was unusually apprehensive about going to Delhi. Perhaps I was scarred as a child when I was sent to a camp near Delhi! I sort of understood what Freud meant by the 'unconscious' trying to force its way into the 'conscious'. I don't even remember the camp now. Forced myself to forget all the details - how much I hated the company, how difficult it was to manage in a strange crowd and how much I longed to return home. And yet, there it was, 'forcing its way' into my conscious... I have always wondered why I was so scarred by that experience. I've never been a person for the crowd or even wanted to be in a crowd so that by itself scares me a bit. And add to that the usual aggression of people from big cities, and you can understand how a ten year old me would have felt!

Here is where I feel debate liberating. It is an aggressive, competitive circuit and somehow I feel at home. Its not that I'm an exceptional debater. Just that I feel those seven minutes I get to speak are my own.. I can push everyone and everything outside my head, including an awareness of myself. I can hear myself speaking but I also know its not all of me. Its like the other, sub-conscious (or unconscious?) me is allowed to rise when I concentrate fully on debating. A strange thing indeed... that I can discover a part of myself by concentrating fully on something else. The self revealed, not through the other, but because of the other.

If this is an aporia then we can't but think of Derrida. The notion that there is no 'point', that there is no single meaning to any concept is fascinating. It is our desire for that point that makes us speak, write etc he says. Its not that there exists singularity which is dissolved when we express something. The gap between the signifier and signified is constant. Perhaps there is no 'me', at no point a single entity but always with a differance. So the true discovery of my self (myself?) can never happen with thought for that immediately involves a signification. So is there 'a being' without thought? Can we contest Descartes' cogito? How then do we know that we truely exist?

A long way from delhi indeed.

The Lessons that were Never Taught

2006-10-11T15:36:00.000-07:00

Oscar Wilde once said that 'nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.' I disagree. I believe that the most important lessons can and should be taught, especially at school level. I am not concerend here with the variety of subjects that are offerred or the exam system, all of which are undoubtedly important issues. I am concered here with the way in which we are taught to 'identify' ourselves. I studied in a middle to upper class Tamil Brahmin school which, ostensibly, tries to, inter alia, 'enable children to imbibe our rich cultural heritage and values.' What this means is that we are taught to see ourselves as Tamil Brahmins who come from a middle/upper class background. We were never told explicitly to think of ourselves as Tamil Brahmins but most of what we were taught and almost everything we were exposed to ensured that we defined ourselves that way. We had 'Vedic Heritage' classes but we were never told that many scholars believe that this 'heritage' was only for a select few and that it wasn't something universal; we were made to listen to innumerable speeches on how India had a glorious past which was perfect for everybody and therefore, all of us should return to our 'old ways' so that everybody can be happy (there was even one gentleman who gave a rather long speech on how ancient India (if there is such a thing - some argue that India was 'born' on August 15th 1947) had planes, missiles and, if I am not very much mistaken, even nuclear weapons) but we were never told that the ancient period had its own share of imperfections and interestingly, none of the speeches touched on the Medieval period (popularly and incorrectly percieved as the 'Muslim' period). Therefore, the exposure was clearly one sided. However, it would indeed be unfair to blame the people incharge of the school entierly for the simple reason that perhaps they too were exposed to only these ideas. The problem, I believe, is systemic and therefore, more dangerous.

If we are taught to think of ourselves as 'Hindus' or as 'Tamil Brahmins' the problem is not only with the school but with the general idea that if a person happens to be a Tamil Brahmin, chances are that she will think of herself primarily as a Tamil Brahmin. This is more obvious in the case of Muslims. In the Afzal case for example, the issue seems to have taken centre stage not because people believe he did not have a fair trial or even because people are against capital punishment per se (these groups protest at every instance of capital punishment whether it be that of the people involved in assasinating Rajiv Gandhi or Dhananjay Chatterjee) but because he is Kashmiri and a Muslim. Therefore, if you are a Muslim, you better oppose the death sentence. Thus, it is because people are forced to give importance to their Muslim identity above all else that so many issues acquire a communal hue. Every person, as Amartya Sen argues brilliantly in his recent book, has multiple identies. A person can be a Tamil Brahmin, a lawyer, a carnatic musician, a critic of Hindi movies, an ardent fan of the Australian cricket team, a staunch Marxist and a feminist, all at the same time. So forcing a person, either overtly or covertly, to give priority to a particular identity will clearly violate her freedom. Therefore, one must recognize that each person can have multiple identities and that each person can, by a process of reasoning, decide which identity she will give importance to in any given situation. This will ensure that a person will not be compelled to oppose the death sentence awarded to Afzal because she is a Muslim because in this case, she may choose to believe as a lawyer (for instance) that the trial was fair hence the death sentence is alright.

How will we ever make people think in this fashion? School education, according to me, should help students understand that they have multiple identities and that they have the freedom to choose which one should be prioritized in a situation. It is improper and dangerous for them to try and make the students believe in a particular idea; they should rather help the students imagine themselves in any way they choose to as long as they have considered various other alternatives. Therefore, instead of making it seem like ancient India was a wonderland, the school should ensure that the students know that some people/scholars believe that it is. This will make the students think about the implications of such a view and also give them the freedom to define their identities. The schools therefore, have an important responsiblity of ensuring that students learn to understand that they have multiple identities. Therefore, this idea that is certainly worth knowing should most definitely be taught.

Towering above the best...

2006-09-07T11:06:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I blogged, and I've been brought back forcibly to gush in endless depth (well not really, endless) about the genius of one man-the late, great, Marlon Brando.
I first watched Brando, most unfortunately, in 'Don Juan DeMarco' starring Johnny Depp and needless to say, took back no unforgettable memories of the great man and I would've scoffed disrespectfully at any suggestion that he was possibly the greatest actor Hollywood had ever seen. And then I saw 'The Godfather'...
He played Vito Corleone with rich sensitivity, intelligence and a quiet, unshakeable power. But the best thing about his portrayal of Don Vito Corleone was the magnetism that he brought to it; the way he could hold the attention of the viewers as Vito did, that of his men. And then, I began to believe that perhaps this old, fat man, who was the butt of every fat and weird joke in Hollywood, was once a giant on screen.

After watching 'A Streetcar named Desire' and 'On the Waterfront', I confess to being spellbound and inextricably in love with his brilliance. As Stanley Kowalski (in 'A Streetcar....') he was a shrewd but ignorant, loyal but insensitive and ignorant working class man clashing with the cultured, sensitive, delicate but duplicitous sister-in-law, Blanche Dubois. Outwardly he's loud, brutish, intolerant and animal-like - a remnant of the Stone Age as his sister-in-law believes him to be. Yet he is vulnerable and insecure and Blanche provoked him, unforgivably, by repeatedly pointing to his poorer background and unrefined ways and he sought to assert himself as “the king in his own home” and then he becomes, just an animal, as every passionate person must become when suitably prodded and without remorse he commits his crime. Then, there is that strange, scary but mesmerizing passion as he bellows for his Stella- there is anguish, and there is strength, longing and yearning in that cry. What woman could’ve refused him???
As Terry Malloy (in ‘On the Waterfront’), he is more of a boy- a little naïve, unsure of himself and wary of the world and its people. He only knows that he ought to play it safe because that’ll keep him out of trouble. With losing his one chance at being “a contender”, after taking a dive in crucial boxing match, he has also lost his ambition and merely ambles about taking care of birds with the neighborhood boys and showing up at work, where his brother’s clout, ensures that he gets paid for doing little work. But his conscience starts to prod him when he plays a part in getting Joey Doyle, the only kid in the neighborhood who had the guts to speak out against the local mob, killed. He is attracted to the victim’s sister, Edie, and tries clumsily to woo her and she, seeing through the tough cynical guy to the conscientious decent guy, falls for him. Guided by the pastor and striving to prove to her that he’s not a ‘bum”, he stands up for his rights and those of his townspeople.
Brando is so natural and sensitive to the natures and reactions of people that he’s brilliant. There’s this innate strength, whether good or bad, which makes one succumb to his charm and power and there will be countless victims year after year for as long print of his works of genius exist.

Orkutting

2006-09-07T10:29:00.000-07:00

I know the word sounds really bad but I realized only today that one can do so many wonderful things on Orkut. Not only can you write testimonials (on a quid pro quo basis so that you get more tetimonals), add random people so that your friends list increases, go to the profile of strangers and get to know who they are, what they like etc., and go through the endless list of communities. Today I went to a community which was dedicated to justifying rape. They had interesting arguments like how rape is like arranged marriage and how only ugly women complain about rape because the men don't have sex with them despite the fact that these women force themselves on the men. And then you have these random testimonials which just have artwork; I'm quite sure noone knows what it signifies. Also, it is interesting to trace a family - for example, you land on the profile of X and you find that X's sister(Y) has written a testimonial for him, the next thing to do would be to go to Y's profile and start exploring that and so on... You actually get to know entire familes through this! Isn't it great!
Anyway, that will do for now children. Please take my advice and become avid orkutters. I shall, on my part, try to post regularly in order to impart such knowledge and wisdom.

Memories

2006-06-19T10:03:00.000-07:00

I went to school today because Mr. Devakumar asked me to speak to the 12C students about Business Battle. I know for a fact that I cannot help them in anyway but I decided to go primarily because I wanted to sort of re-live the experience. Needless to say that I had great fun organizing Business Battle - whether it be Jaich insulting the computer teacher on her face or Naveen yelling at me for being thoroughly disorganized or trying to convince the teachers that Shriram shoudn't host the quiz (I don't think he has forgiven me for that) or having 'secret' meetings or fuming when certain people acted irresponsibly...

Having said all this, I think what I liked best about Business Battle was that I made some of my closest friends while organizing it. I am not mentioning names because I know that both of them will be embarrased and because I don't think it means so much to them; but it will suffice to say that without their help it would been the most dreadful time of my life. Thank you.

Another wierd thing about it was that I don't remember how it all came together in the end... the religious person in me would of course attribute it to God, which is another reason why it is special.

All this came rushing back when I opened our Business Battle 'file'. I don't think I helped the 12C students at all... but I still feel happy about all the memories. I know this is a silly, illogical and sentimental post but that is what was intended so I'm not going to justify it. So lets raise our glass to such happy memories....

Legitimacy for Dating...Questions

2006-06-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

All of us know at least one person who is 'going out'/'dating' someone so everyone can understand this post. However, if you are going out with someone yourself, then stop. Read no further cause this entry will not interest you and may even irritate you. If you are, on the other hand, still 'single', then please continue reading and do tell me what you think about it.

This entry is a result of some (futile?) discussion on the subject of 'dating'. Admittedly, all of us like/have liked/will like someone. Does that necessarily mean we have to go out with that person? Well, the answer to that is simple - if you like someone, it implies that you enjoy their company and so you will want to spend more time with them and going out is one way of doing that. Fair enough. But what if you are already good friends with the person you like and spend a lot of time with her/him? [I request the reader to not misconstrue the above or what follows as an indication of my romantic interests. I have none AT THE MOMENT and am merely groping about in the realm of theory] In that case, the argument that you will get to spend more time with her/him fails.

The other argument advanced is that by dating someone, you'll have the feeling that that someone is 'there for you'. I have two disagreements with this argument - one, I would say, at the risk of being cynical, that since most of these relationships break sooner or later, usually sooner (I concede that there are some relationships that don't break but I maintain that these are only the exceptions) there is more pressure on one or both parties to 'keep it going'. Therefore, far from being reassuring, it actually leaves you in doubt - does she/he really like me or has her/his liking for me decreased etc. The second disagreement is at a spiritual level - if you are looking for reassurance, if you want to feel that someone is always there for you, wouldn't it be a better option to rely on something permanent like God or a Superior Force (assuming you believe in one) rather than relying on ephemeral things and getting hurt when they are less permanent than you thought they were? I am not going to discuss this issue with regard to atheists because I haven't given enough thought to it.

The third argument is that dating is fun. Quite frankly, I cannot counter this since (a) fun is a subjective standard so I cannot speak for anybody else - for e.g. if a person thinks getting pierced is fun, then it is so for her/him, I can't dispute it just because it is not fun for me(b) since I haven't dated anyone myself, I can't tell whether dating would be fun for me, according to my standard (this applies to 'you won't know how great it is because you haven't tried it' as well).

So when people say that they have a 'meaningful' relationship, do they mean they are having fun or that is reassuring or both? I certainly don't understand the reassuring part for the reasons given above. So where is the legitimacy for dating? Before you think I am living in a different universe, I have confession to make - I have "asked out" a person myself but haven't dated; in less sophisticated terms, she didn't say yes. So you think this post is just out of frustration? Well, in my defense, I have thinking about this off and on for a long time so it isn't necessarily because of frustration. But why did I "ask her out" when I wasn't convinced of the legitimacy of dating? I have nothing to say in my defense - I was indeed being a hypocrite.
Finally, I would like to 'solicit' your opinion on this matter although you may think I am totally weird for thinking about such things. I am not able to accept it completely though it seems to be the trend today and I think it is essential that we question at least this part of the 'dominant discourse' (it is post-modern jargon).

[P.S. This post has not been written by Ranjani - it should have been obvious (in her posts, you won't find words struggling to make sentences; sentences forced into paragraphs; and paragraphs made into a whole agaisnt their will) but nonetheless...

Kolangal

2006-02-18T15:08:00.000-08:00

Its been a while since I saw this episode of Kolangal, that great mega-serial, but since it left an indelible impression upon me, I thought it is best that I record it in this manner.

I happenned to be at my cousin's place on that crucial day and hence got the opportunity to see the historic episode (since all I get to see in my house is Pokemon, Digimon and other wierd Japanese cartoons). This is the episode in which the woman, whose husband abandoned her (although one school of thought asserts that he didn't really abandon her as she had left the place by the time he came back from Bombay; however, since my sympathies are usually with the women in such issues, and such issues alone, I pointed an accusatory finger at one elderly gentleman who participated in the discussion- and belonged to this school of thought- and accused him of, among other things, a patriarchal mindset and chauvinism, after which he gave me a wounded look and refused to participate in the discussion thereafter), abandoned her and later 'linked his lot' with another woman, had kids and at some point became rich.

Now the main character is the deserted (yes, I vehemently reject the alternate view) woman's daughter - ravishing beauty, keen intellect, gentle disposition, compassion for fellow creatures (to a fault), to mention a few of her attributes - and she is having some problem with her step brother but nobody except the father knows that the heartless guy is indeed her step brother.

So the heart-broken mother seeks out the heartless guy's father, since he is known for his kindness and 'nalla manasu', so as to ensure her daughter is no longer troubled. The wily man sees her before she enters the office and so he immedietely tells his secretary that he is busy and that he will not see anybody. The indiscreet, not to mention ill-mannerred secretary tells the mother that 'sir' is not in town although just a few moments before, she had informed the mother that 'sir' would meet them (mother and son) soon. Shamless! A blot on the fair race of secretaries!
Anyway nobody but me seemed to care, the mother included. Moving on, the mother then gets into the auto but soon she realizes that she left her handbag at the office. So off they go (the automan and the mother), with the automan (a little too friendly) donning the role of a reassuring son, unasked. If I were her I would have been shocked at the way the man was driving but the mother was a complex woman - although she had a sad face and spoke incessantly about her innumerable worries, such matters hardly affected her.

The mother walks to the sofa and retrieves her handbag (after obtaining the permission of the horrible secretary; the mother was infact polite to the totally undeserving woman. A complex character indeed). And now for the climax.

The husband escorts a seedy looking client to the door when they see each other. The director goes beserk now - he shows only the eyes of the estranged couple. What emotion! All the husband could manage was a sheepish grin (I don't think he intended that) and a shifty look (which,if I may say so, was always there so not particularly relevant for this all important scene). The mother/wife made up for the complete lack of effort (both in this context and according to the story) on her husband's (or whatever you call that relationship) part. Her eyes first became large, to show shock or amazement I suppose. However, something went wrong - her eyes seem to continue growing larger. That her eyeballs may actually pop out did not seem impossible at one point. The camera continued to shift from one pair of eyes to another - one showing no discernable emotion and the other seemed as though they had been artificially enlarged in order to perform an eye surgery - for an unreasonable amount of time; the director seemed to have no pity on the viewers whatsoever.

Yet, the inadequacies (by no means substantial) of the actors notwithstanding, the atmosphere that was created ensured that there was complete silence - only the fascinating music of Kolangal could be heard for miles. And why not? It was a brilliant scene. One was so moved that one felt tears rolling down one's cheek. I sincerely hope Sun T V telecasts this particular show again for the benefit of all those who unfortunately missed it.

And so this was another twist in the grand saga that is Kolangal.

And That Was That.

2006-02-09T11:38:00.000-08:00

They laughed. Then they hung up. Arjun had reminded her, as always, that they had to work. Although Lakshmi and Arjun did not have much time to spend together because of all the work they had to do, there was a remarkable friendship between them. Perhaps they were friends not out of choice, but due to the lack of it. They got along with their colleagues, no doubt but they were no more than that. They did not share an interest with the rest of them and hence found very little to say to them besides the usual office talk, which didn’t last very long. Most people felt that it was carpentry that brought them together. Odd as it may seem, both of them loved carpentry; and by this I do not mean fixing an old table or repairing a broken chair. They liked to make things out of wood. Arjun could never forget the day when he discovered that there were other people in the world who were as passionate about carpentry as he was. Better yet, they were in his office; who would have thought…!

They had endless conversations about carpentry – how each of them had learnt it, how it was a part of their life, the funny things they had made and so on. The best part about these conversations was that they were never serious. They joked about almost everything – even when they were talking about ‘important’ matters. This, of course, does not mean that the conversations were meaningless. In fact, Arjun believed that it meant a lot to both of them because of that – there was an instinctive understanding of the other which meant there was no need to mouth the usual lines like, “we are friends” or “I care a lot about you” etc.

They spent all the free time that they had together and naturally this lead to a lot of gossip. However, they were so engrossed in their work that this hardly affected them. They remained, as cliched as it may sound, "just friends".

Once the training was over, they were told that their permanent posting would be announced in about a week and during that time, they were free to do as they pleased. Lakshmi and Arjun decided to go to Poetry class during this time. Both of them thought the class was absolutely brilliant and that they would continue going to these classes even after their permanent postings were announced. They found that this was one other thing they had in common. This was the time when Arjun wondered whether they were indeed "just friends" and in any case whether they should be. When he asked Lakshmi about it, Arjun thought her response was equivocal and the ball was back in his court. After some thought he decided that there was no point in changing anything as things seemed perfect just the way they were, the influence of Poetry notwithstanding.

When they received the letters informing them of their permanent postings, they found that Arjun had to move to a new branch – this meant more work and even less opportunities to see each other. However, there was no tearful farewell since they knew – a tacit understanding – that they would keep in touch.

Somehow, few weeks after they started working again, Laksmi had less and less time for Arjun. She involved herself in so many activities that kept her busy. Even during vacations she had no time at all – no time to meet, no time to e-mail and no time to even return phone calls. Soon, both of them realized that it was over. Arjun was quite shocked, not so much that it was over, but the way in which it ended. He had assumed that they may not stay friends for ever because they may drift apart. However, he was absolutely unprepared for the ‘no time’ routine. He continued to care for her as much as he did earlier but he didn’t understand how priorities could change so quickly. He had assumed what he had thought of the relationship was what she had thought too; unfortunately, the ‘they knew's in the preceding paragraphs were, in reality, merely, ‘he thought’s.

Arjun continued to go for Poetry classes while Lakshmi discontinued a week after they started work again. Poetry was as puzzled as Arjun.
Thinking about all this made Arjun feel tired. He rubbed his eyes, closed his book, switched off the light and went to bed.

And that was that.

And tonight, he walked alone....

2005-12-26T09:43:00.000-08:00

(WARNING: FOOTBALL RANTS)

"When you walk through a storm
Hold your chin up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet, silver song of a lark.
Walk on, through the wind,
Walk on, through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart,
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never walk alone."

Oh how cruel these words must sound to Michael Owen right now...! Today he stood in front of the fans at his old club and was taunted and abused- all his past heroics for Liverpool forgotten. One of the highest scorers for Liverpool ever ; a man who had not so long ago carried Liverpool's expectations on his shoulders stood alienated in a stadium where before he had counted only friends. His close friends Carragher and Gerrard were powerless to help him, neither with the game nor with the fans.... Liverpool was flawless and efficient and Newcastle was floundering and inept as Owen stood, a mere spectator in the game, hardly getting a touch of the ball...

How fickle and cruel we humans are! Owen made a mistake once- he left the club that nurtured him for a bigger name and for a shot at the Champions League Trophy and he will never be allowed to forget it. His once-fans booed as they heard his name announced where they were used to cheering loudly and taunted him with his absence at a great Liverpool moment ('Where were you at Istanbul?' cried those bitter fans) which no one will regret more than he does....A cruel hand has Fate dealt him, denying him a decent chance at Real Madrid (the only REAL villains I can yet see...) despite his good performances and a Liverpool victory in the Champions League in the very year he leaves.. A generous man, and still a liverpudlian at heart, Owen does not grudge his old mates the success but tonight it must have broken his heart to see Liverpool winning because they were telling him in effect that they don't need him anymore...

All credit to Rafa Benitez for making the Liverpool defense the strongest it has been in recent years but one cannot help but feel resentful toward him as the reason that Owen is not back at the Kop. Until now, I believed that all of Liverpool wanted him back, but Rafa, but what can I say, tonight my heart broke as Owen's must have... My dream of seeing Owen, Gerrard and Carragher was shattered into a million pieces....

I rue the day that Owen signed for Real (their only fitting punishment can be languishing in inconsistency brought upon by terrible work ethics and a lack of respect for hard work and efficiency which on any day outweighs a lazy flair…) and I shall rue this day on which he came back to his real home... I’m an ardent Liverpudlian and nothing will shake my love for the traditions (and until now I didn't know that it had involved making an already distraught player more miserable) and spirit which Liverpool represents but today and only today I would rather have seen them lose than see the devastated look on my all-time favorite Liverpool player…

Owen wouldn't lose hope and so I too shall try not to. I will hope that Fate has something but distress in store for him....

I don't..........I do believe in fairies?

2005-12-20T08:15:00.000-08:00

Well haven't posted in ages- feeling too bored to do so i guess... Watched a splendid movie yesterday- 'Finding Neverland'. Very sweet movie about J.M.Barrie, author of 'Peter Pan', played by the always brilliant Johnny Depp and also featuring Kate Winslet. It's the story of how Barrie was inspired to write 'Peter Pan'; his inspiration being the Davies’ boys and the book was based on his friendship with them. It was one of those movies after watching which you cannot help but feel good.... I was practically floating on air, re-living all my childhood and adolescent fantasies (for the curious these did NOT involve anyone you PERSONALLY know). I suddenly felt vindicated in living in my dream world. It was alright to retire to this 'Neverland' of mine when I chose to, as Barrie had done... I vowed to myself, to honestly create my own 'Neverland' without external influences. Not Tolkien's Middle Earth and not Pan's Neverland but my own unreality....
Disaster struck however, when my friend prompted me to find out if Barrie was indeed a pedophile or just accused of being one. I was offended initially on behalf of my newly found "companion" on journeys to the dream land, but I was simply too "grown up" to ignore the possibility of an unpleasant disaster in 'Neverland'. I read an article afterward; the writer didn't denounce Barrie as such but seemed to think 'Peter Pan' was disturbing rather than the magical disneyish story we had imagined it to be. It certainly was about the boy who never grew up- about Barrie himself but the likening Barrie to Humbert from Lolita made me sick to the stomach. I am glad that the writer conceded that Barrie didn't indulge in any sexual activities with the Davies' boys or even betray any want to do so but it still irks...
I agree that Barrie was an immature adult who simply wanted to escape the realities and responsibilities of life by remaining a boy forever but to accuse him of feeling anything but friendship with the Davies…….., that my heart will not allow.
Needless to say, any wishes of emulating Barrie were speedily squashed. I realized I couldn’t stay young forever- it’s too…… too cowardly… Plus I haven’t a brother’s death to confront in my past or any other equally tragedic incident so I haven’t anything to run away from really. Yet I do enjoy retiring, temporarily, to a dreamworld and so I shall try to create one… maybe everyone should…

A contender or pretender?

2005-11-22T08:31:00.000-08:00

'And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.'

The rise of Roger Federer threatens my reality.... I never believed that within three years of Sampras' retirement, people would be heralding the arrival of a new King of Tennis. It began with the horrifying winning streak and the breath-taking tennis Federer has a habit of playing. Non Sampras lovers first joined the camp, declaring that he was the best they had ever seen. With every grand slam victory, the Sampras faithful were crossing over, believing rather unwillingly that the Swiss devil surpassed all limits previously imposed upon tennis legends. The worst blow came in the form of a tribute from Agassi. “Federer is the best I have ever played”, said he, shattering all the illusions I’d built up of the phenomenon being nothing more than a short-lived quirk of reality. Some of the resolute old faithful claimed that the statement, coming in the aftermath of a long rivalry between Sampras and himself, could not be held up as heart-felt. Yet, the slightest doubt crept into my mind and I was curious to see still more of this Swiss brat. But as the adoring fan base grew, I found myself shying away from watching him… Out of disbelief; out of fear… Fear that anyone could replace the hero, the champion of my heart.
After spending long hours arguing with friends and family, I have gotten the fair to admit that Federer could never surpass Sampras at Wimbledon and that his opponents hardly hold a candle to Becker and Agassi at their prime, and the uncharitable to admit that it hasn’t been long enough to declare him better than the great man who won seven titles at Wimbledon. After that, I will be able to watch Federer with a fragile state of security but the anger and frustration never goes away. I am angry at his once adoring fans for finding a new idol; at his once respected rivals for the show of disrespect; at Federer, however unfair this may be for being a gentleman but most of all at God, for never giving Sampras a chance to get even after Wimbledon 2002…..

A reality check...

2005-11-20T07:52:00.000-08:00

I've discovered quite a few things about my family and friends and myself following during the events following actress Kushboo's statements to a tamil magazine (newspaper) about the use of condoms as a means of preventing AIDS... They can be startlingly conservative and simply cannot stand the illusion of the perfectly conservative society being broken. They also believe that the keeping of that illusion is for the benefit of children of my age. I was left wondering if I was perhaps “evil” (not a proper decent Indian girl at any rate) for believing that it was perfectly alright for Kushboo to say those things. In fact I think it was beneficial to the people to have her say them, because, all said and done, I would prefer an India which was having safe sex and was AIDS-free rather than an India which has one of the highest percentage of AIDS victims but protests ignorance of existence of premarital sex and condoms.
I suppose the primary issue was her condoning premarital sex or rather openly acknowledging its existence. The whole thing is ridiculous- we all know it exists! Why on earth should she not say what’s on her mind? She did it with good intentions and not to malign TAMIL society… She didn’t even single out Tamil women so I can’t understand why we should take offence.
Even assuming her statements were meant to offend (which they weren’t), she should’ve been left alone because she has the right to say whatever she chooses. There was no call for banning her films, protesting against her and filing cases against her. Suhasini had a right to come to her defense but she has no right to declare herself representative of the Tamil community and apologize on their behalf. They have as much a right to voice their displeasure at Kushboo’s remarks as she has to make them. The whole thing has been blown out of proportion and every Tamilian party, the actors’ forum and celebrities have been unnecessarily dragged into it. It’s about time it stopped and it’s about time people learnt to accept reality or at least stop condemning those that aren’t afraid to accept it…

The Man Above....

2005-11-11T09:24:00.000-08:00

Supposed to be studying for my 'Continuous Assessment Test' tomorrow but feeling inspired after reading blogs of fellow PSBBians. Johnny Cash’s ‘Burning Ring of Fire’ running in the background. (*not the Joaquin Phoenix cover*) Listening to more of the old timers these days. Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash etc. There’s something very honest and down to earth about their lyrics. Dylan’s very socially conscious as well- ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’, ‘Hurricane’ etc. Probably the only musician who managed to raise awareness through his music… Very special dude.
What do you do when you’re distracted; when you don’t want to be and because someone you don’t want to be distracted by? It happens to everyone. Some say, “Talk about it”. But that never works for me- I end up dreaming about the person… I end up thinking about the other person’s opinion about that person; about that person and me. Writing about it works sometimes. The best cure I’ve found though is God. In my mind’s eye, I throw myself at his feet. I guess it’s because I don’t have to apologize to God for anything I’m feeling. I merely ask for it all to be taken away. It works, I think because once I’ve told Krishna (to me God invariably takes the form of Krishna at least when I’m thinking about ‘love’) I kind give up responsibility for feeling everything I’m feeling. For those of you who suffer from the same ‘pangs of love’, try it next time…
Very weird? Religious? I guess I am…

Some answers to 'Life, Universe and Everything'....

2005-11-02T22:25:00.000-08:00

"Forty-two!" yelled Loonquawl. "Is that all you've got to show for seven and a half million years' work?"
"I checked it very thoroughly," said the computer, "and that quite definitely is the answer. I think the problem, to be quite honest with you, is that you've never actually known what the question is."

Ever wonder exactly what you wanted in life? What you want out of life? Success is just so vague… I was talking to my friend, Vivek when he suddenly asked me that. I said “Love” instinctively but I’m not sure. Hell, love isn’t any less vague than success. I love my mom, I love my brothers and sister, I love my friends and I even love Physics, Math and books but I don’t think there’s anyone I’m “in love” with… If that’s what I was referring to, I would be surprised because that’s quite cliché – Ally Mcbealish almost. There are lots of things wrong with this ideal of “true love”. First is, does it exist…? Are there people out there who love one another –heart, body and soul, loving each other passionately in a way I can’t even describe because I haven’t experienced it? Are the stories in Georgette Heyer’s and Baroness Orczy’s novels anywhere close to real? (Most of the time I’m thinking, who am I kidding- of course not! But the romantic in me wins sometimes and I end up dreaming of Kabir (A Suitable Boy)/ Mr. Darcy(Pride and Prejudice)/Scarlet Pimpernel lifting me off my feet and carrying me off into the sunset…) Or is “true love” a slightly romanticized version of friendship, given a new look by adding physical attraction? Is it easy to find either? Do people really obsess over it as much as American sitcoms depict them as doing?
I know success for me isn’t about the money (which is basically success in the conventional sense). We’ve always lived happily; lavishly even with what my mom and dad say is a moderate income. Fame really is more trouble than its worth. Having recognition could be Success perhaps, but that isn’t the same as ‘fame’. A ‘well-rounded’ life? That never made sense to me. Most people really want only one or the other- monetary/career-based success or love. You’ve just got to get your priorities right.
So if it isn’t love or this weird and vague ‘success’ thing what really do we want in life…? I’m going to rule out Vivek’s answer here. ‘Moksha’ I don’t think would be a popular choice among the ‘common man’…
Happiness? Yes, that seemed to fit. Except it’s even vaguer than success! What does it mean? To me or to anyone? But I do think it covers it better. I guess to all of life’s “great” (don’t scoff!) questions we’re invariably left with questions that ask us to probe deeper into the self… “Know thyself” as the Pythia would say…

Do you think you can tell...? Real from Reel...?

2005-10-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

(Note of caution to friends who might read this: DON'T make fun of me later...)
A few words about one of my favorite actors- Joaquin Phoenix. I watched this guy for the first time in ‘Gladiator’- that being his most critically acclaimed performance it’s hardly surprising I grew to like him. ‘Like him’ may be an understatement. Respect him, admire him and ‘Luuuurrve him’ is more like it… (For those who’ve started sniggering right about now, I mean in a STRICTLY non-teenagerish crush sort of way… I’ve carefully avoided mentioning that he has beautiful olive green eyes; eyes that seem capable of expressing a staggering depth of feeling…) Getting back to the point, Phoenix’s talent lies in being able to make any character seem real. He actually got people to sympathize with a sick bastard like Commodus. Even in his worst moments Commodus (maybe I should say Phoenix) retains his vulnerability, his insecurities and his desperate, heart-breaking need to be loved. There’s a part of me that believes that Commodus could have been saved from committing those terrible acts of injustice if his sister could have made herself love him… Then again that’s probably my naivety speaking… But Phoenix still deserves credit for showing that ‘a villain’ could have more than one side to him. I don’t know exactly how to express this, but it was even creepier watching him because Commodus was so naturally evil that he wasn’t a typical movie villain…
I’ve watched only a couple of his other movies in which he made his small appearances really count. (Return to Paradise and 8 mm) Quite a bit of what I like about Phoenix is what I’ve read about him. I’d like to believe that what I’ve read is true because I like people with passion and if what I’ve read about the guy is true then he IS one heck of a passionate person. The only person I’ve probably ever been inspired by is Michelangelo. It’s said of him that when he was working on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, he was so dedicated, so immersed in his work that he went days together without shaving, eating or paying attention to anything worldly. He had worked to a point where his health was completely deteriorating and he was going half blind. Now that is real passion. I guess what I’ve read about Phoenix’s dedication to a part reminds me of that. My compliment is probably undeserved because, in my head, NOBODY in this world deserves to be compared to Michelangelo. But, maybe, just maybe Phoenix has about a millionth of his passion and a billionth of his genius. Now that’s enough to make a pretty terrific actor….
I, for one, can’t wait for ‘Walk the Line’ to release and hopefully I can badger a few friends into watching it with me. Even if Phoenix doesn’t deliver the performance of his life, I’ll still have spent two hours staring into those beautiful eyes... Time well spent I’d say…

(Hmmm did I say, few words?)

Youdhaka...

2005-10-22T00:00:00.000-07:00

I went to my first concert today at Alliance Francaise. It was by a great chennai- based band called 'Youdhaka'. The reason I went was to lend moral support to my friend, Sukriti, who was singing for them and I ended up having a terrific time! They had a brilliant percussionist, Siva, who played just about every percussion instrument in the world! Terribly impressive; he seemed to be having more fun than anyone else on stage and it was nice to see that. It shows that he really really lovedwhat he was doing. Their guitarist Akshay is a former PSBBian and was hence already known to me...The guy is a brilliant- he can do magical things with a guitar.. Not very theatrical though.. No banging the guitar, sliding along the floor etc. And dressed very normally as well- he'd even lost the "funky" long hair I'd last seen him with. Might need a little more training to be a rock star along the lines of Steven Tyler, Axl Rose etc... The lead singer Tanvi(?) had a wonderful voice which suited the off-beat songs very well. She sang this beautiful song called "Lambi Judaii", an old song by a Pakistani singer called Reshma. My friend, Stutie translated the lyrics to me. The song really gets to you.. Especially romantic ones like me.. It's a song about two lovers who've been apart. There were lots of good songs from completely different styles- Arabic, Egyptian, Irish etc etc...
I think really good music can conjure images for you- they can tell you stories without saying a word. Everytime I listen to a good, well- sung devotional song, I can see a picture/idol of God right in front of me. I listen to a song about Rama and I imagine Thyagaraja, lost in Rama, sitting down and singing. Often, when I listen to Floyd I can see lights flashing in an otherwise black space; everytime I listen to 'Another Brick in the Wall' I can see a huge procession of students walking like zombies. (MAN I BLABBER A LOT! SOMEBODY STOP MEEEE) That's what happened tonight for certain songs. I was listening to the somewhat latino like song and I could imagine people dancing the tango under the night sky. I listened to 'Lambi Judaii' and i could imagine a somewhat sad old lady singer, in a night club, singing for her first love. Now that's amazing music(to me)! I AM NOT SAYING THESE PEOPLE ARE AS GOOD AS FLOYD OR M.S.SUBBULAKSHMI or anything but I'm sayin they were PRETTY GOOD. They played with passion, immersed in their music and that will get them places.... It should anyways.
It was a great first time concert for me! Wish I could go for more. Now however I will get back to the classics on my computer. Floyd, Led Zep on the computer are still as good as any live concert...

Better late than never....?

2005-10-21T12:30:00.000-07:00

Ah... it's a fine morning- Saturday morning always are. The one morning on which mothers don't grudge you any sleep; softened by watching you plod along to college at 730 every morning, they choose to let you stay in the blissful world of dreams for just a few hours longer. It makes all the difference.... Between a cranky, scowling pain in the ass and a cheerful, helpful delight to have around. Saturday mornings are even better when you're looking forward to going to a movie with your classmates... But then again, certain things can ruin the harmony of the most wonderful mornings- like classmates who are well over a half-hour late in picking you up for the movie, which sadly happens to be 'Bewitched' instead of 'The Interpretor'. Then you have nothing to take comfort in except perhaps bitching about these friends on your blog...

When the grass is greener and the light is brighter....

2005-10-19T13:31:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to friendly skies and a grinning sun! I bunked college! And so it was i began the day as a cheerful girl with rosy cheeks waiting to take on the adventures that life offers rather than as a condemned prisoner with a back bent with the sins of the world, trudging along the path to the Pennalur Penitentiary(the name my "wise" seniors have assigned our beloved college, SVCE) At this point I must make it a point to say that I LOVE my college..(Like it a normal amount at any rate) The Pennalur Penitentiary and dog van bus cracks are just for fun.... Atleast I keep telling myself that....
AH, the day began with more good news- Liverpool won. Liverpool's special you know. They've got spirit, the history and the right players. Like Steven Gerrard. In recent times, there are no footballers who command more respect than he does. Imabgine backing from a far more lucrative deal with Chelsea on the day he was about to make it just because he couldn't imagine leaving Anfield with it's unique players and fans. Only in Liverpool will you see such acts of loyalty. They rock! Sadly Michael Owen no longer plays for them. I can't believe they didn't bring him back this time. Here I was dreaming of Owen, Gerrard, Carraghar, Hamann and Riise back together. Benitez ruined my dreams! Damn Rafa!
After dreaming for a while about liverpudlians, I jumped over to 'University Physics' by Sears and Zemansky. No, I am NOT a geek just like to read it sometimes... ! I suppose saying that I did it for fun, might be giving things away a bit... Physics is a brilliant Science but sometimes it requires a little TOO much thinking. You have to be in constant touch with it to be good at it. It's highly imaginative, hard as it for my NON-Science student friends to admit...
Anyways, off to enjoy my day away from the Sriperumbudur Center for Criminally Insane Engineering students....

The child is grown, the dream is gone....

2005-10-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while, your heart feels heavy but you don't really know what to do to make yourself feel better... There's no particular reason really... or shall we say there's no reason you would acknowledge to yourself. I've tried music, staring at the endless night sky, reading a book, chatting on the phone(thats the worst actually, sadness clings to solitude like a best pal)- nothing works. Not even the tried and tested cure- 'Friends'. They're quite a bit like the amusing distant cousins you contact everytime you just wanna have fun, in a secure family environment. But anyways enough with the depression, I'll atleast try in this fit of melancholy to think of something else....
I read a three part series by Valerio Massimo Manfredi about Alexander the Great. It is as the author says, quite a "romance"- a tale that makes Alexander appear more as a Greek god rather than a mortal or even a demi god. Alexander was a childhood idol of mine. It was a silly romantic thing I suppose- I was always attracted to the warrior/knight types. Alexander the Great and Richard the Lionheart among the many. Actually there are some similarities between the two- both were universally proclaimed excellent warriors but very few would call them good kings. Richard was said to be unpopular at home but inspirational on the battlefield and the same with Alexander. But of course these are the common assumptions(?), misconceptions(?) about the two.
Going on to the novel, in Manfredi's eyes, Alexander can't do or think wrong. It certainly boosts my childhood image of him, but I'm far too old to believe in the idea of a man who can't think or do wrong; certainly not in the idea of a powerful man who can't think or do wrong. Every slight offence that he commits is invariably under the influence of alcohol- Sometimes he retains his senses even when intoxicated! The book depicts Alexander as retaining his childhood passions, dreams and even idealism to a certain extent... Though I desperately wish that it were true, it simply isn't believable. I don't think I'm a cynic. Can the most powerful man, a man who killed thousands ( hell millions) ; the man who killed his childhood friend and a loyal general; the man whose life it was to make war really have been somewhat innocent, trusting and vulnerable...? I guess at the end of the day, I like retaining my childhood image of Alexander- A glorious, noble, passionate, vulnerable, intelligent, moving human being.... Who just happened to conquer the world and slaughter millions. It's so easy to romanticise when you're young. Wish it were the same when you grow older. Or maybe I should be thankful it's not worse. Imagine the consequences, if I turned life into a fairytale.......
Enough rambling for today I suppose....

A Saturday in the life a jobless teenager....

2005-10-08T10:08:00.000-07:00

I spent a very very relaxed day.... I went to bed at 1030 pm last night and got up 850 this morning… That long a sleep can cure any ailment in the world- 3 hrs of travel for five consecutive days in an SVCE bus included... It's really unfair that a few of us have to make do with, hell suffer on, dog-van like buses whereas some of our darn lucky college-mates get to go on airbuses. It's bad enough knowing that they're more comfortable, but those dratted pigs flaunt their good fortune every day, going past us EVER so slowly, reclining on their push-back chairs as three of us struggle to squeeze into one seat each of us holding our bags on our laps or using them as leg rests. (If God does indeed exist he sure doesn't visit the SVCE transport office!)
As I was typing, before being side-tracked, my super lazy day began late and continued leisurely as my friend, Stutie came over. We talked for hours and hours as only girls can(and Vivek) and about everything from guys to face wash to engineering graphics, again as only girls can(I'll spare Viv this time around). It's really amazing how you can make fast friends with a few people. It's just a wonderful feeling when you meet someone and realize I can confide in this person without the worry of being betrayed at or laughed at... It could be the moment when that person confides their worst secret in you; it could the first time you cry to them or it could be something as mundane as the first time you go to a temple with them. In my case of course, the moment was when my friends finally decided to tell me that I'm gonna be stuck with them for a long long LONG while.... It's happened to me about four times in my life... I know I'm terribly lucky though...
After Stutie left, pushed into doing so by Vivek’s persistent calling, I settled down to watch “To Kill a mockingbird”. Vivek and I, both in love with Atticus Finch, enjoyed every instant of the movie, which was almost as good as the book. Casting was perfect really- Gregory Peck WAS Atticus Finch and Mary Badham WAS Scout…. Of course, my being in love with Mr. Peck only made the movie more enjoyable! (For me that is- Vivek looked at me with barely contained disdain as I swooned over his every movement and every word.) After making completely vague and indefinite plans to meet tomorrow, I bid farewell…
The day was almost at an end, I had nothing to do but eat and lie back with book and wait for the angel of sleep to gather me into her arms and lull me into a blissful temporary death…

Conscience keeper...

2005-10-04T21:06:00.000-07:00

My friend Vivek and I were discussing Atticus Finch the other day... He's probably my favorite fictional character. Sometimes I get the feeling he isn't even fictional. It's just that every time I read about Atticus I feel secure- like he was a father or uncle figure. Just someone who could always tell you what to do when faced with a problem; someone you could trust to tell you right from wrong. Vivek thinks I’m a bit like Scout which I probably am. I look up to my brother, Karthik, in the way Scout looked up to Jem. I would’ve been quite like her when I was young… There’s this part…
At one point Jem responds to Scout's protests about a night visit to the Radley Place telling her: "Scout, I'm tellin' you for the last time, shut your trap or go home--I declare to the Lord you're gettin' more like a girl every day!" With that, Scout says, she had no option but to join them…
I’ve always felt that I tried unconsciously to be very un-girl in order to win my brother’s approval; to get along with him and my cousin, Hari. I don’t mind really- this way I got to enjoy some of the advantages of being a bit of a tom-boy- it’s a ready-made excuse for being a dirty pig. Indian mothers think its ok for guys to be filthy but not girls…
Getting back to Atticus, he’s just brilliant really..! Imagine what sort of singular courage you must have to brave the entire society’s wrath and defend Tom Robinson. He did more than defend Tom Robinson- he defended his entire belief system. His integrity is peerless and the most inspirational thing I’ve ever read about. (Except possibly Irving Stone’s description of Michelangelo sculpting the statue of David) I could go on and on and on when writing about Atticus of course but I’ve got to go read my Chekov book… So to sum it up, Atticus rocks, and if I’m ever wondering what to do in a situation, I’ll just pick up ‘To kill a mockingbird’ and Atticus will point to the way…

Calibrations...

2005-09-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

SVCE held its first years' cultural, "Calibrations", today and most of us freshers had lots of fun; even the ones that didn't really take part in any of the events. Let's face it, if you had an option not to put yourself under any sort of pressure and just had to sit in the audience and pass judgment on others, which one of us wouldn't choose it?? I did take part in quite a few events, though less than the number I had originally planned on taking part in... Quiz was by far the most important event for me because it was a sort of defining thing- proving to me that even if I wasn't the best quizzer in that auditorium I would stand a chance; that I could compete without falling flat on my face... I came second and I knew I couldn’t have done better than that- the three years of QFI (Quizzing Foundation of India) experience that my opponent had over me was impossible to overcome. Looking at the bright side of things, I found a decent quizzing partner in Krishnan- interested and pretty fun to have around…
Ironically, the event that I practiced hardest for, the ‘light music-vocal’, I didn’t even get to take part in because it clashed with the finals of the quiz. Hard as it was for my friends to believe, I did sincerely regret not having had a chance to sing on stage. SVCEians bad luck I suppose – didn’t get a chance to regale in my musical brilliance... J Hell practicing was a whole load of fun. I’m expecting to be sued by my neighbors anytime soon for physical and emotional damages. I screwed up ADZAP because I was so upset after the quiz prelims which I was sure I had bungled up which was sad for my friend, Stutie, as ADZAP to her was what quiz was to me… But this is getting ridiculous- I’m taking a few stupid cultural events far too seriously! My friends Sukriti (JAM), Priyanka (Antakshri) and Ramkumar (ADZAP NOT QUIZ AND NOT JAM!) all made the finals of some event or the other so as one of my friends correctly observed, great day for PSBB!! Still a PSBBian at heart… Will learn to be an SVCEian as well….

May the chorus be with you....

2005-09-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

I’m dreading going up on stage in college cultural on Friday because I can’t imagine singing in front of all those people… I’ve been told I sing decently but I can’t confirm any of that because I’ve only heard myself sing in my head and in my head Lata Mangeshkar comes a distant second… Plus I don’t get to sing in English which I’m most comfortable with and if my singing in Tamil is as bad as my speaking in Tamil, I’ve really got something to worry about…. So I’ve decided to try and imagine the worst case scenario so that maybe I’ll realize it can’t be that bad…

Scene: Friday morning say 1030ish, imagine a stage foggy around the corners (this is a day dream after all) with SVCEians bustling around the place setting things up and getting ready for the least anticipated event of the day (NO I am NOT referring to quiz! This is not about reality… It’s a geeky little teenage girl’s dream), the Light Music vocals. And in the corner is a fabulously attractive yet unbelievably intelligent looking girl about eighteen years old… And next to her is me…Wait I’m going to look at it as a third person. Sort of living outside the box or something… So standing in the corner looking nervous yet confident is our heroine, about to embark on a fabulous adventure, a noble mission even and she steps up... Moving closer to mike, she smiles nervously thinking this can’t be that bad; most people aren’t even paying attention… I’m going to be fine… And then in a breath-taking maneuver that got every eye in the hall looking toward her, she tripped (very gracefully mind!). She shuffled into a standing position smiling sheepishly. Well obviously now everyone’s paying attention…
She decides to do it, to get it over with, to end the hell… “Kannamooochi yenada….enna kanna…..”

Ah hell I can’t think about it any longer. Just going to go ahead with the practicing. Barred everyone at home from coming to the ground floor, where I’ve temporarily moved my headquarters to. A copy of ‘Lord of the Rings’ and my cell phone move downstairs and (voila!) I have a new home…I can only sing when alone… How will I sing on Friday you ask???... Well that’s no one else’s business!!
Nervous about the quiz though… Ramkumar will definitely win but will yours truly make the final? Please please please dear lord!

A Suitable boy....

2005-09-19T22:42:00.000-07:00

Today's little crib is about parents, a very small part of the universe but still a very influential part of ur life... It's just that once you turn eighteen, your parents turn paranoid. Suddenly the innocent phone conversation turns into a discussion about one's love life. Every boy calling home is a "bad" boy who somehow just gets on the wrong side of mum. Every mail signed love arouses suspicion. Life is a prolonged lecture on what a girl can and cannot do and how it's ok to fall in love but not before you're twenty five, settled in a job and attracted to only tamil brahmins that the family already knows....It's no use telling ur mom ur not out in the market for TRUE LOVE; that every boy in college isnt making a play for u and that you're rather too lazy to go looking for the quite impossible to find man of your dreams. And just when u think u've gotten her to trust u; got her convinced that her children's activities were still within the boundaries of decent soceital norms, your brother calls... Here's how he prolonged the hell...

Bro: Hey ma.. sorry i didn't pick up the call..Had gone out..
Amma: What?! At this hour? It must be eleven in the night there...
Bro: Yeah it is..I can see u freaking out now.. Ha ha! See I'm totally out of control now.. You can't tell me what to do at all.. Have fun doing it to Ranju- will last only four years anyway....

(Mom's thoughts: Rama! what's he saying?! I never know what he does these days... ! What if its a girl...? If its a respectable brahmin girl he would've told me wouldn't he? What about Ranju?! She doesn't seem to be listening to me even NOW!! What can she be upto?)
Amma: Whom did u go with?

Bro:Can't tell you..

Amma: Why..???
Bro: Chumma...
And so the late night lectures and dinner time advice began again.... The victim is not the idiot in NYC but his poor suffering teenage sister... God, I can't wait till I'm twenty five. Here's hoping i fall in love with a Tamil Brahmin who reads Tolkien, listens to Floyd, loves Sachin Tendulkar and Liverpool (asking for him to love Michael Owen may be a bit much), loves Math and Physics and of course loves to take care of all the responsibilities around the household...

The first law of nature....

2005-09-16T20:37:00.000-07:00

I've never blogged before because nothing interesting ever happens to me and because i'm just too darned lazy... But today i had an insight into how the Universe works and i just had to share...I'm doing my Btech in Sri Venkateshwara College of Engineering which is in Sriperumbudur a boring, tiring, life- sucking one and a half hour journey away from my home. When the rays of sunshine struck my droopy eyes this morning, i knew today was different; a day on which i was going to do something useful, noteworthy, different- none of which could be acheived by going to Engg. College and so I tried talking myself out of going. "Nothing important will happen in college today.. I can tell u now, exactly how the day'll go. You'll learn nothing in Physics class, you'll sleep through Engg. Graphics and you'll be asked to redo your assignment in Fundamentals of Computing AGAIN..!" said that part of me which dreams every night of a world with no Engg courses and of mothers who tell you that its ok for u not to do your homework and that she doesn't mind it when you make hour- long STD phone calls to talk to your best friend.. "Don't be a fool... You'll lose attendance.." said the geek in me reminding of me that evil that engg. colleges use to force hapless students into coming to college everyday- ATTENDANCE! In dreary submission i pulled the covers off and went for a bath. I dragged my body forcibly through the bath and through breakfast... Finally ready, i was lugging my bag onto my back when i saw through the window- THE BUS WAS GOING PAST MY HOUSE at that typical breakneck speed that only bus drivers can acheive...

HALLELUJAH! cried I, silently of course.( I wouldn't want mother dear to know...) I pretended to rush down at top speed and cried in a panic stricken voice.." MA! the bus' gone.. looks like i cant go today..." I was thanking my stars. 'Things had a wonderful way of working out, didn't they?' Congratulating myself thus, i forgot to take one critical factor into account..Our wonderful, devoted, affectionate, selfless mothers can never bear to see their children in distress...

She worked fast- a General putting her battle plan into action. She hailed down an auto... Ordered him into submission, stuffed her beloved and unlucky daughter into the auto.."You can catch up to the bus at Anna Arch. You'll pay him forty rupees. Call me when u get on the bus..."
As i looked on bewildered, the "auto-man" zoomed through the traffic- catching upto my bus with every stop and eventually overtaking it... I rushed onto a running bus during a traffic jam, forcing my limbs to do things that were totally against my wishes and as i had believed until then, completely beyond my ability.... When i finally sat down in the bus with college mates staring at me in surprise and awe, a desperate gloom enveloped me and in that profound moment, it hit me-'When you really really want something, ALL the Universe conspires to deny you your one true wish.... '