Auto Rides

There is something to be said for auto rides. I mean, seriously. Beside my fascination with the profession, an auto ride is an experience you cannot forego. Particularly in Chennai city.

Okay, okay, so you have to come equipped with a full wallet. I agree. And you cannot be delicate or faint-hearted because you have to be able to survive the potholes and swerves and manoeuvring that an auto does. It is literally a video game that emphasises survival at all odds.

There may be distractions such as an impossibly large display of Vijay on the windscreen, or an array of God and Goddesses, thereby testifying to the Automan's secularism.

But if you survive the obstacle course and manage to get over the colourful decorations, an auto is an excellent place to think.

This morning, I reached office only to find that I was not allowed to park in my usual spot due to a police programme. I had really no choice but to go back all the way home, leave my car and take an auto. I hate wasting money on autos but this time I surrendered.

It was a pleasant change to have someone drive me around. When I'm driving, there's atleast one half of my brain concentrating on the road (while unconsciously emulating Speed Racer on an Obstacle Course). The other's listening to music and trying to psych myself for the day ahead. But in an auto, there's nothing of that sort. I am not alone with myself. There's a person who's having his own thoughts in that little space. There's no need for conversation. Silence is implied but it is not forced. For once, you don't have to be someone or say something or convey an impression. You're alone and also, you're not.

Maybe it's the open sides of the auto that add to the effect. Whatever it is, I definitely feel connected to the world.

There's noise, there's dust, there's confusion as can only be in India and you're part of it all.

And when you place a couple of notes (not a couple anymore, I'm afraid) in the stranger's hand and get out of the teeny little vehicle, you realise that you're never going to see this person again.Maybe you're more privileged than he is, maybe you're educated and he is not. But for ten minutes, you shared a world.

The Year that Was?

What was 2008?

20th anniversary of my existence...

History was rewritten as a real leader was elected as president of the USA causing an interest in politics as part of popular culture..

So much drama in the friends circle that I would never have seen coming...

Three out of station trips after a hiatus of three years...

New perspectives on age old feelings...

Bollywood attempting to come out of the closet...

A dead actor leaves behind a legendary performance...

Some growing up and a lot of teenage nonsense...

Shifted my Windows Live blog into this! One whole year of blog writing...

And the best part? The fact that so many people visit Estarra (tourism is booming!) and I've gotten so many friends, thanks to this little island of my mind. It's so funny, I never really expected this to happen. And Vimal, you can call me HRH of Estarra. President would be great too. (Kidding. Actually, not)

Happy new year everyone!

New Year Resolutions

1. To find myself a hobby that distracts me when I'm down and to which I can fully absorb myself when I get cranky/lonely/low on self esteem. A hobby which is not dependent on other people (so this rules out reading Meg Cabot.) and which will remind me that there is more to my life than whatever it is that is bogging me down.
Something besides writing!
Video games? Self-styled workout sessions? Collecting bookmarks?

2. To go with the flow and not say no to any outing but while making sure it does not compromise on my SLEEP.

3. To be myself. Whatever that may be at that moment.

4. To enjoy my youth while it lasts without whining about missing being fourteen or hyperventilating at the thought of the time period after April '09.

5. To relax, let go and unwinnnnnnnnnd. I was not built for worrying and so I'm not going to let it enter my system. YES! And this is going to be the resolution I am going to HAVE to keep.

Pure Magic

Love is magic, right?
And I guess magic doesn't like to be chased.
So how do you want something without chasing it? Is it a mind trick? You tell yourself "Ah, I don't mind waiting a hundred million years, yawn, I've got a million things to do" so that you'll finally catch love unawares.
Yeah, right. SO NOT working.
While I continue to enjoy my single, uncluttered, unfettered relationship status, I have discovered that it is hard to bury the romantic in me (Extremely hard while being exposed to Rabbi's songs and movies like 'P.S: I love you') So, I'm embracing my romanticity. I'm no Mills and Boons but I cannot subdue an 'Awwwww!' whenever Ross and Rachel get back on 'Friends'. But there are some lucky ones who can live without the magic because they've experienced it in some other form, like finding God or because they have children whom they love unconditionally.
But, for all my single (and seeking to mingle) friends out there, here's what I say: it's okay. Join the club. Don't be afraid that you miss love or yearn to experience love, whatever the case may be. It doesn't make you weak or desperate or incomplete as a person to feel what you're feeling. I don't think there's any other magic that can replace being in love (and being loved! VERY important!) no matter how many coins you've collected or how many parties you've attended. If you like someone and it works out, WOW! But if it doesn't, move on with a smile on your face. Atleast if you've had a taste of pure magic.

Alter egos/Secret talents I wish I possessed

1. Secret martial arts expert.
(Karate, kick boxing, whatever. Something cool with roundhouse kicks and rock-solid punches. The only martial art I learnt was 15 days of summer karate camp of which my most vivid memory is the 6-year-old boy who was probably the first ever official fan of M.S.Dhoni.)


2. Speed racer through mean streets
(Yes. Shh. Don't tell my mother)


3. Hip-Hop, break dancing superstar or atleast Vijay
(I've always been fascinated by people who are in complete control of their body. I don't even know what to do with my arms when I talk to someone.)

4. Bono singing 'Bad' at Live Aid, 1985
(Mannnnn...the power of that song. It just changed my life. Actually, I'd love to perform any U2 song. High as a kite is what I feel singing a U2 song)

5. Parkour expert
(The first dream I remember having is of a large green T-rex chasing me as I jumped from my roof to another. Being good at parkour would help if I come across a real-life situation such as that.)

6. Class clown
(Heehee. )

7. Basketball star!
(I have dreamed of playing this sport since the 5th standard and am still incapable of doing a lay-up, despite going to camp for two years continuously.)

8. Princess in a historical romance
(NO I DO NOT READ MILLS AND BOONS)

9. A mermaid
(So I could swim with the whales and listen to their songs and not be so terrified yet obsessed with the deep as I am)

I Got Therapy

So, I survived.
It was a fabulous Christmas, most unChristmasy in terms of no cake, no tree, no presents (sniff!) but it was a family time. And friends are family.
Christmas eve night: Me in my Chick Magnet T shirt, wrapped up under the quilt, laughing my head off at Ryan and Colin in 'Whose Line is it Anyway?'. Show's over and I prepare to spend my Christmas night glamorously NOT.
K messages and we decide to attend Midnight Mass for the first time in my life. It's been AN AGE since K and I met. After a sudden bout of hysterics for no reason- or maybe too many reasons. (Not been feeling so top notch of late. Guess it all came crashing out. Must vent more and not keep things so compressed) , we finally left. It was late but we got to listen to K's favourite carol ('Mary's boy child') and my second favourite ('Jingle bell rock'. 'Oh come all ye faithful''s my absolute favourite). Then we headed to Barista where I got sick and tried to avoid looking at them while they shared some gooey chocolate cake. Is it possible to be physicaly sick and emotionally rejuvenated at the same time?
Christmas Day! Woke up and put 'I want to break free' on full blast..ah, there's nothing like having Freddie Mercury's voice bring in the celebration. I absorbed the therapy and then dressed up for a girl's day out.
Ah, it was so nice. The four of us had a giggle-fest (seriously. I'd forgotten I was capable of those) and hogged some sandwiches (and i had a choco tart. GUILTY AS CHARGED!But it's CHRISTMAS!) and then we traipsed around till my fuel tank pointed to empty and then we ran home to check a few priceless scenes of OUR movie ('Kaho Na Pyaar Hai'. This cinematic gem redefined our 11 year old lives and gave us all our first crush in the form of Hrithik Roshan). Then we wandered over to Numbi Jim's house and did some more nonsense. I think these three mad girls contribute to my Peter Pan behaviour, seeing as how they're pretty much the same.
Well, so I'm feeling much much better now. Socialising helps... and so does church!

BLOB GOB

Ra and Estarra's brain exercise (don't try this at home)

exorcise

ok then

go:

The name’s Champ
Chump
Grump
Chump v/s champ
Grump v/s gramp
Chubby champ
Chubby dubby
Chubby duckling
Chubbly duck
Duckling dust
Duck fry
Fried Chubling
Chubling ice
Chub Bling bling
Bling Bling Singh
Bing is Kinng
Bing is king bing is king
King Bling
Kings C Bling
Blatantly Bling
Bltantly Singh
Singhfully Bling
Singhful
The Seven Singhs
3 wise Singhs
Manmohan?
Singh.
Singing Manmohan
Singhing, “Man More Hun”
“Man mohanaaaaa”
Ananannananananaaaa
Atilla the Manmohan
Im done
Whew
.

Have yourself a Merry Christmas

I wanted to talk about something. It was brilliant and enlightening and I conceived of it in those few nano seconds right before you drift off to sleep.

And of course that's where it went.

It's called something, right? That state of mind right before you sleep. Supposedly your creative channel opens up then and you welcome the universe's ideas.

Tricky thing, the channel. It willingly supplies you all those ideas, knowing that you won't remember all that stuff in the morning, try as you might. Or even if you happen to foresee its intentions and lay a notebook and pen by your pillow, you end up scrawling some unintelligible rubbish which you can't decipher or it just sounds way too ridiculous in the daylight.

Well, it's Christmas time. The cubicle which I mostly inhabit (when not wandering about to get circulation in my legs) has been decorated in red and green. Which brings to mind my childhood memories of Christmas, right from the tree to the presents under it and of course the stockings me and my best friend back then, Sandeep used to hang at the foot of the bed. Back then G.I Joes and Relish chocolates were topmost priority on our list.

Of course, the tree got planted outside my window and I think I caught my Mum wrapping the presents. I wasn't as disappointed for myself than for Sandeep. He believed my house was an urban legend for Santa Claus happen to land up only there. (My household has always celebrated the best of all religions)

As time went by, Sandeep drifted away. And my school girl friends and I began having Christmas parties (when we were going through our Disney Princess stage) replete with Bollywood-Kollywood dancing. (Now, that's something that hasn't really changed. The inability to resist a dhinchak song). We exchanged presents and cards and I'm sure we gobbled Mum's lovely cake. (For which I am still in repentance)

Somewhere before that, Christmas used to be visits to St.Thomas Mount (wayyy back when I wasn't the family driver and when my aunt and cousin used to visit). Now that's a beautiful place, as far as I can remember. I'll never be able to shake off the feeling when I gazed at the whole of Madras from the top of the mount. Madras was certainly the most beautiful place on earth.

In the last years of school, I sang along with a youth choir (Soprano, can you believe it? I only croak bass now). Carols by candlelight, choir uniforms, the whole works. Truly Christmasy. I loved being part of it.

Let me get back to trying to recall what it was that was swept away in the current of the Creative Channel (someone put a dam on it) and you have yourself a Merry Christmas!

Ishtihaar

I've fallen in love, yet again, again with a Rabbi song. This one's off his first album. And it's called 'Ishtihaar'.

There's something about staring into the winter sunlight and listening to the soft voice of this amazingly talented singer. Originally a poem by Shiv Kumar Batalvi, the words (oh my God, the words) become soul stirring under the influence of his voice and the gentle pluck of his guitar. This, is THE song.

Okay, promise me, you will listen to the song and then read the lyrics along with it. Only then will you feel what I feel.

Sitting quietly by the window still and freeing your mind of thought would enhance the experience.

So, check it out.

Ishtihaar
For the Lost Love:

ik kudi / A girl

jihda naam mohabbat / whose name is love

saad muradi / simple, dainty

sohni fabbat /a lovely sight

gumm hai gumm hai / she is lost

gumm hai / lost

gumm hai / lost

gumm hai / she is lost

surat osdi / Her face

parian vargi / A fairy's likeness,

seerat di o / temper

Mariam lagdi / a picture of Mary

hasdi hai tan / when she laughs

phul ne jhardhey / the petals fall

turdi hay tan / when she walks

ghazal hai lagdi / a melody play

slamm salami / her graceful height

saru kadd di / like a wicker tree

umar ajey hai mar ke agdi / her years are still of nascence

par naina di / but the language of eyes

gal samajhdi / she comprehends

gummian janam janam / she is lost from many

han hoye / births

agolagda iyon jyon kal / though it seems as affair of yesterday

di gal hai / yesterday

iyon lagdai jion ajj di gal hai /why, it seems an affair of today

iyon lagdai jion hun / why, it seems this moments affair

di gal hai hune taan mere kol kharhi si / just now she stood by my side

hune tan mere kol nahi hai / and now she has vanished

ai keha chhal kehi bhatkan / what trick what chase is this

soch meri hairaan barri hai / my senses, they're mystified

os kudi nu tol rahi hai / searching for that girl

oss kudi nu meri saunh hai / I call out to that girl in my name

os kudi nu apni saunh hai / I call out to that girl in my name

os kudi nu sab di saunh hai / I call out to that girl in my name

os kudi nu rab di saunh hai / I call out to that girl in my name

jey kittey parhdi sunhdi hove / if she reads or hears this

jeyundi jan o mar rahi hovey / if she be alive or dying

ik vari aa ke mil javey / come and meet me once

vafa meri nu daag na laavey / do not sully my devotion

nahi tan maithon jia na janda / lest I can't live

geet koi likhia na janda / nor write a word

nahi tan maithon jia na janda / lest I can't live

geet koi likhia na janda / nor write a word

nahi tan maithon jia na janda / lest I can't live

http://rabbism.blogspot.com/search/label/Lyrics

This train don't stop here anymore

Oh I am soooo happy..happy happy happy! Thank you for all the comments, it really made my day (and that's saying a lot, considering the day I've had) and even though there are so many people I can talk to, orally, I mean, it's a real different high when you see these written down responses to your unmonitored rambling.
So, thank you!
Why was my day not so number one? Well, I think I'm in this permanent transition phase wherein I'm not dwelling in the past and I am waiting for this one little twist that'll help me paint myself a happy future. Where does that put me? On this permanent subway train where everything outside is a blur.
This is when you turn on the TV and lose your mind in 'Whose Line is it Anyway?'. This is when you go borrow this stack of Meg Cabot books and fall in love with a ghost (whom you imagine to look like Enrique Iglesias) This is when you vaguely realise that there's something slightly wrong with you-when you fall in love with a ghost who's also a CHARACTER IN A BOOK and would rather re read similar books than go to 10 D or wherever.
Talk about problems with reality.
Anyway, I'm not minding myself much. Let's see where this train stops. It can't just keep going, can it?
Oh it can?
Ho hum. Now where did I put my copy of 'Airhead'?

Memorieeeeeeeeeees (to be read with Barbra Streisand's quavering soprano in mind)

Ohhh wooohhh hoooooohhhh it is my last weekend of being empty-headed till I get to work on Monday and begin a two-month internship...So adieu to college for a while (don't worry, I spared you the senti-ness by sniffing melodramatically at random desks and blackboards and all the profs in my department).
I want to say a word I hate but which accurately sums up my state of mind:
DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE.
College is almost over!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This cannot beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, oh no, no, no.
So much has happened, so much has been learned.
Six semesters, 16 major subjects, five actual crushes, tons of salwar-kameezes, one id card, three five-subject notebooks, a hundred million games of Hangman, ten million lists of hot guys, top TV series and others (me and Butterfly, that was), one best friend, one bestest friend and eight adorable close ones, a zillion messages back and forth, a billion IMing sessions, four major fights and possibly one final goodbye, a hundred veg rolls and 200 cup o noodles, inconsolable tears which dried, hysterical laughter that caused tears, and not to forgot atleast 500, 000 pages in XEROX ..... the list cannot even begin to end.
Three years.
Whaaaaaaat mannnn.
This can't be it. There should've been a warning.
I'm going to stop listening to my father's old songs now and go watch Miss World to lighten my mood.

Time for some whining

No fair.

I want to be Meg Cabot.

I mean, look at her! She churns out a book a month? And I'm sitting here scribbling some ratty confusing nonsense which I get tired of when it turns too autobiographical. She's so glamorous. The closest I get to being glamorous is leafing through Vogue, walking over to my closet and pulling out the same floppy yellow T-shirt (the one which has a picture of a baby chick followed by a picture of a magnet. Yup.) She gets to write stories about princesses and teenage girls and pop culture for a LIVING. She travels all over the place and people CRAVE for her books. A total of 4 people read my blog.

Like I said, no fair. I wanna be THAT.

Okayyy, maybe she was somewhere close to where I am when she was my age. Sigh. Maybe I'll get there someday. Till then, it's quite a relief to lose myself in Mia world . Waaaah, I miss my teens.

I really must quit whining.

Ooh, all you girls (and boys, if you happen to be interested), check out her blog. http://www.megcabot.com/

Oh and another one of my favourite authors. http://www.annbrashares.net/ I really want to create characters the way she does.

Oh wait, a total of THREE people read this blog.

I'm shutting up. Go read.

You greedy happy pig you

I am being haunted.
I woke up last morning to a picture of Sweet Chariot's chocolate mousse in the Weekend section of the paper. I ignored, deftly flipping through the pages for non-food articles, chanting "I can do this, I can do this" in my head.
So I manage through the day, drinking sugar-less juice when I craved for cold coffee. So, we go out for dinner, my mind going "soup", my stomach going "pizza".
Thankfully pizza was not available. But look what else was! On the menu, where Nut and Date Tart and Apple Pie and other non-appetising (to me) dessert items normally reside, was printed in tiny letters:
Chocolate Mousse.
Which to me, of course, meant:
CHOCOLATE MOUSSE.
Ohhhhhhhh heavens!!!! What am I going to dooooooooooooooooooooooo? Is there no will-power in this heart of mine? Why can't I replace the drool in my mouth with an image of all the clothes in my closet that do not fit? Why can't I run up the stairs and keep on running when there is the slightest tingling of chocolate craving in my belly? Why oh why oh why?
Some of life's mysteries remain unsolved.
And so I ordered.
And much as I'd like to pretend I hate myself for it, I don't.
Hee hee hee.

Growing is a Pain

Something is seriously, very wrong with me.

Puer Aeternus is Latin for eternal boy, used in mythology to designate a child-god who is forever young; psychologically it refers to an older man whose emotional life has remained at an adolescent level, usually coupled with too great a dependence on the mother. The puer typically leads a provisional life, due to the fear of being caught in a situation from which it might not be possible to escape. He covets independence and freedom, chafes at boundaries and limits, and tends to find any restriction intolerable.

The "positive" side of the puer appears as the Divine Child who symbolizes newness, potential for growth, hope for the future. He also foreshadows the hero that he sometimes becomes (e.g. Heracles). The "negative" side is the child-man who refuses to grow up and meet the challenges of life face on, waiting instead for his ship to come in and solve all his problems.
"For the time being one is doing this or that, but whether it is a woman or a job, it is not yet what is really wanted, and there is always the fantasy that sometime in the future the real thing will come about.... The one thing dreaded throughout by such a type of man is to be bound to anything whatsoever."
"Common symptoms of puer psychology are dreams of imprisonment and similar imagery: chains, bars, cages, entrapment, bondage. Life itself...is experienced as a prison."

Okay, is my imagination over active as usual or do I detect a familiarity in the above paragraphs? Am I, the ruler of Estarra, in reality a Peter (or Patricia?) Pan???

Oh no, I don't want to think about it.

But wait! Isn't that a typical tendency? Oh no, oh no!

Should I be psychoanalysed? Am I stuck at some stage that hasn't been resolved yet? Is this why I am the way I am? How come no one's ever realised? How come no one's worried???? I seem to have a problem growing up!!

Let's make a list and see:
Adult tendencies
1. I drive. (okay, okay! But that clearly indicates that I have the ability to be responsible for something that is bigger than myself. Though I still don't know how to check the water coolant and stuff. Sigh. My father's gonna kill me.)

2. I do all my homework and assignments and presentations on time. I submit them first (or I'll panic from paranoia!)

3. I am very bossy when it comes to group projects that I HAVE to do. (Otherwise, I couldn't care less. Hmmm.)

4. I have managed to earn money, much to my surprise-twice as an anchor on Doordarshan. Once as an actor in a educational film. One as an MC's assistant at a friend's event. That's it. That's my job history. So I can survive.

5. I hate partying and get a thrill out of organising and arranging and filing all my belongings. (That is not adult-like. That is just plain WEIRD!)

6. Barack Obama is my idol and 'Dreams from my Father' has been way inspiring. I want to bring positive change to this world somehow. I don't know what I have to offer, I don't know how or what I'm going to do. But I figure the first step should be to sort myself out first!)

7. I think and think and think before spending on myself. (Check me out, digging for reasonably priced files and debating to buy Vogue magazine for a month- I ended up missing the anniversary issue and the next one too. Finally, went crazy and bought the one with Katrina Kaif on it.)

Kid-like tendencies
1. I watch Hannah Montana. I want me and Numbi Jim to be Miley and Lily. (Oh the shame)

2. The maximum I can cook is make Top Ramen. Okay, not even Top Ramen. CUP O NOODLES. (Are you happy??? I am embarrassed!! But I do have a big file of internet downloaded recipes that I plan to make someday...someday...)

3.I fall in love with celebrities and fictional characters. Alright, that's got nothing to do with age (I KNOW that my mum had crushes on Zidane and Dhoni.) But I know something's wrong when most of my friends have decided baby's names and wedding venues (okay, not in that order) while I declare my passionate adoration for Enrique,Hrithik, Darius, Arjun Rampal, Edward Norton, Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and characters like Michael Moscovitz and David (Meg Cabot), Kostos Dounas (Ann Brashares- Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants) and right now downright scintillating vampire boy Edward Cullen (Stephanie Myer) etc (WAIT A MINUTE. They're ALL taken. Waaaaaaaaah!)

4. My favourite movies include 'The Little Mermaid' , 'Anastasia' and 'The Road to El Dorado' and my dream is to buy myself an 'Aladdin' DVD. (Even though I have enjoyed films such as 'Impromptu', 'Blow' and other legends that I cannot recall right now. But I must confess I still cannot bring myself to watch Akira Kurosowa. Sorry, Bunny. Your cultured cinematographer's taste has not rubbed off on me.)

5. I sneak into the library, head for the kids section, grab a 'Princess Diaries' and run before anyone (particularly a kid) sees me. I head for the librarian's counter to issue it and pretend to scan through a copy of Business Today to avoid catching his eye.

6.I begin to fall asleep standing at the discussion or perusal of gold/diamond/silver/platinum jewellery or sari shopping. (Or could this be a sign of tomboyish tendencies? But that doesn't explain my fascination for Vogue magazine spreads? Then again, I just stare at the clothes and photos and don't do anything about it. I guess it's like colour and gloss therapy for me) I tune off and you can bring me back to consciousness only at the mention of hilarious headlines on 'The Tonight Show with Jay Leno'. Or just Jay Leno for that matter. Comedy wins over dress-up anytime.

7. I have no clue what I want to be doing for the rest of my life.

Sigh. Sigmund Freud, leave me be. I'll take a while and you can't do anything about it.

Statement of Purpose

Yeah, so, basically, there was this girl. A girl who didn't like to really refer to herself as a girl. Not because she was a tomboy or gay or a feminist. But because she felt itchy under restrictive terms. And also, because she struggled with the realisation that she was an actual living, breathing individual.

Okay, so there was this female person who wanted to write. And she did write, in her poems, her journal, the margins of her college notebooks, ramblings in her blog incomprehensible and insane to most. She did write. She had written since the age of six, mock publishing stories and series. But she wanted to WRITE write. She wanted to spin the story that lived inside her soul. The narrative of her conscious existence. The urban adolescent story. The life within her life. The story of the decade that she had lived, the story of the decade that she wished to document!

But, somehow, around seven years of that decade that already passed.

A miniature vent

Tomorrow's curse or tomorrow's promise?
Today's indecision is pure bliss
Taking each day one step at a time
Is confusion really such a crime?
Leave me to my drifting ways
Let go of what's meant to go, let it stay if it's supposed to stay!

New favourite song of the nano-second

'Put It Down'
Artist: Mike Doughty
Album: Golden Delicious
Heart of my heart, got to leave you today
You don’t love me and you won’t understand
Cut by the thorns, oh I must loosen my grip
Got to let the flower fall from my hand

Down, put it put it down
Put it down down put it down down put it down
Go, let it let it go
Let it go go let it go go let it go
Mail, drop it in the mail
Drop it in the mail drop it in the mail drop it in the
Sauce, bottle up the sauce
Bottle up the sauce bottle up the sauce
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na

Love of all loves, you have made a mistake
Only saw the flaws and now you regret
My mind’s aggrieved and my belly’s ablaze
I have swallowed all the words that you said

Down, put it put it down
Put it down down put it down down put it down
Go, let it let it go
Let it go go let it go go let it go
Mail, drop it in the mail
Drop it in the mail drop it in the mail drop it in the
Sauce, bottle up the sauce
Bottle up the sauce bottle up the sauce
Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na

Not exactly Shakespeare, but like Hugh Grant says in 'Music and Lyrics', the pop song is more likely to touch the human heart than the most eloquent piece of masterfully woven prose. Maybe I'm not in love, maybe I've not been dumped, maybe I've just had a bad day and I like to hear someone say "Put it down...let it go!" or maybe I'm just plain happy it's great to hear someone reminding me of the resilience of the human spirit. We can always tweak a song's meaning around to suit us.
Good music always knows what to say.

The Red Bucket

I wanted to explain the picture that accompanies my blog title. It may look like a red bucket filled with water. But it's much much more than that...
The bucket was positioned halfway under the roof outside my house and halfway beneath the cloudy sky. One half of the bucket displays the water as it is. You can see the circular red bottom of the bucket.
The other half reflects part of the basketball hoop attached to the wall above. It also reflects the unfathomable sky. When I look at that picture, I can feel the clouds swirling, forever dynamic. It reminds me of all the times that I take a walk outside and not once have I missed the opportunity to tilt my head upwards and take in the view of that imposing, immeasurable sky. When I feel troubled or fearful of life, when I feel the walls closing in, all I do is look up at the sky. It reminds me of the fact that there are no limits to one's spirit. As long as the sky stretches, the human spirit is free.
So, I stare at the photograph of the red bucket. One half is unmoving, opaque, just red. I look at the other half. The other half is what I want my life to be.

Lock your libraries- the bookworm attacks!

Perdonez-moi for the delay, but I guess I’ve taken the meaning of vacation way too literally.
While my peers have been living it up by going on road trips, partying and being, well, what is expected of the youth, I have been nestled in my little island, surrounded by high walls of books. Eccentric? Recluse? Pseudo-intellectual? Or just plain boring? I’m too self-content to care.
Still haven’t read ‘Wuthering Heights’ (got bored after the first sentence), ‘Of Human Bondage’ or ‘A Tale of Two Cities’ (All the classics are lined up in the drawing room showcase alongwith the encyclopaedia and my few trophies. I’ve read the encycloapedia more than any of these.) So, I’m not as bookwormy as you might think. I like a good dose of emotion, dialogue, some drama and some culture. Sardonic humour is major plus. I don’t like mysteries, wars, thrillers, science, too much of romance, teen plots, too much of setting description and jargon. I have surprised myself by reading (and liking) Henry Cecil’s legal comedies, the first book of Artemis Fowl fantasy and ‘The Godfather’ by Mario Puzo. My taste in books and movies is varied and erratic.
This time however, what I did read were (in repeated fervent borrowing trips to the library):
‘A Hundred (or thousand) Shades of White’ by Preetha Nair (I think)
‘World’s Richest Losers’ (from Gloria Vanderbilt to Marilyn Monroe to Howard Hughes)
‘Desirable Daughters’ by Bharathi Mukherjee
‘Chicken Soup for the dieter’s soul’ (an, ahem, attempt at motivation)
‘Rainy nights in Madras’ by Samina Ali
‘Size 14 is not fat either’ by Meg Cabot (Give me the first three Princess Diaries and the first ‘All American Girl’ any day over Meg Cabot’s other works. Actually, the Diaries are ok even till the sixth)
‘The Year I Turned Sixteen’ (with a testimonial from MTV VJ Anusha on the cover about how it made her want to be sixteen again However, I must mention that the author has given us snapshots of Noida-Delhi and it reminds me of the holidays spent with my cousins in dreamy little Noida before it became associated with murder.) by some author whose name I forget (Apologies)
… And some other books that I’ve forgotten completely
Apart from the chicken soup, nothing else really left a warm feeling in my stomach.
RIGHT NOW, however, I’m reading ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, a delicious little book (yes it’s little! And it’s got drawings! Why has this book been avoiding me all these years?!) I swear, it was neatly wedged between huge volumes of Charles Dickens and crew and it just winked out to me. I was captivated from the first page. Will review it once I’m done. I’m drawing it out slowly.
Also reading: ‘A Marriage Made in Heaven or Too Tired for an Affair’ by Erma Bombeck (I love her. She’s too funny), a short stories collection, ‘On a Shoestring to Coorg’ by Dervla Murphy (so far really interesting and well-written), ‘Chasing Rainbows in Chennai’ (not so much about Chennai as I discovered, disappointed) by Colin Todhunter.

Not just books, this semester break has been one of film appreciation. Do I have to be completely honest and mention that this fine art began with the viewing of ‘Golmaal Returns’? Well, honestly speaking, it did and I kinda enjoyed it. It’s brainless and noisy!
Mum and I had a full movie outing (thrilled me to bits) by watching ‘Fashion’ and ‘Quantum of Solace’ consecutively. ‘Fashion’ was excellent but what blew my mind was Kangana Ranaut’s performance. Seriously, that girl is an underrated actress. I thought she was pretty good in that movie, whatsitsname ‘Woh Lamhe’ but in this she simply stuns. I felt so much power in her portrayal as the arrogant, cokehead supermodel-the way she blazed into the screen, the way she portrayed her reckless self-destruction. She needs to work on her voice but her body language speaks volumes.
The big Bond movie was not as much of an impact as ‘Casino Royale’ was. Daniel Craig, of course was brilliant with his steely gaze, undoubtedly the toughest Bond ever. But the movie was far too much of action and far too less of style. Bond girl Olga is cute though.
On dvd, I watched ‘Phoonk’ (don’t even ask) ‘U2: Rattle and Hum’(Goosebumps for this one. Especially the band performance of ‘Bad’, probably in my top 5 favourite songs of all time) and ‘Roman Holiday’ ( Awwwwwwww. Audrey Hepburn’s so cute!)
And tomorrow, I’ve got plans to see ‘Dostana’. That concludes my checklist of movies I wanted to see (No, ‘Golmaal…’ was not on it. That was Numbi Jim’s insistence. She considers it a religious rite to pay homage to Kareena Kapoor). But I don’t I’ll run out of such lists.
Bring it on!

P.S: Since writing this, I've watched 'Dostana' (funneeee but the second half is a bit too typical rom-com resolution. Can't blame them though!) and finished reading 'The Little Prince' (beautiful)

"But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart...."

Heroes, hope and an education

As one of my dear friends (Ess it was) said, I tend to write most of my blog posts during exam season.

I can't help it. When I'm studying Development Communication, I want to be Bono or president. When I'm studying Visual Analysis and Aesthetics, I'm Freud or Saussure. (Definitely NOT Althusser!) Problem is, it's like being age ten all over again... I want a different career each day of the week! I thought twenty was when you made up your mind.

Hmmm. So that's the plan for now. Let multiple pursuits replace indecision. But the general aim is to contribute to the world. I want to do some good.

Oh, did I mention the newest idol on Estarra's pedestal? It's Obama. He has certainly changed the face of international politics and to use his own phrase (or atleast one that's attributed to him), he has given us the chance to believe in the "audacity of hope". Seriously. I'm not so familiar with his policies and stuff, but generally as a human being, he comes across as dignified and focused. He's come up without being heir to vast fortunes, being half-Black and using brain over fake talk. (Man, my blood boiled when Arnold Schwarzenegger passed such pathetic comments about Obama's lack of muscle.)

I don't want to make a fool out of myself by attempting to talk global politics ( ha, ha, ha) but all I can say is that I really want him to win!

That's one problem with looking up to someone. You're hoping against hope that they're as perfect as they appear to be, hoping for that hero who stands for believing in your dreams to rise up and restore light to life. Anyway, let's look up to him while it lasts. Let me have a symbol of the light at the end of some kind of tunnel. Let me have my reason to climb out of adolescent messes and general confusion. There's so much more to life and it's good to be reminded by a man whose name is one letter away from that of an international terrorist, yet might just become the leader of the free world.

So, that's the general situation for now. Oh and I'm studying about defence mechanisms. I think sublimation (the transformation of negative and unpleasant feelings into something positive as a way to control instincts, to protect the ego and to release tension) might just be my favourite type of defence mechanism. I may not always get it spot on. But I try.

See you on the other side of Election Day!

Pause for a Sad Love Song

Sometimes you listen to sad songs on purpose, don't you?

This mad girl, Ra introduced me to 'Cannonball' by Damien Rice. It's so exquisitely painful, that aching addiction that you can't resist. You're perfectly peaceful, the weather's great and you have a whole heart that you have sort of succeeded in tying up and securing in its rightful place. Yet, you knowingly stumble into the poetic verse of a goodbye song. And you live a heartbreak moment right then and there. Whether you're denying it, whether you've experienced it, whether you want to experience or not.

"It's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball"

That's the problem with these sad love songs. You can relate to them somehow or the other. Whether you've been through a million or nil relationships (I belonging to the latter category) you can just feel something.

If you ever get into one of those moods, you know what to do...

'You' - Switchfoot

'Ishtihaar' - Rabbi

'Chhalla' - Rabbi

'Khalouni' - Cheb Mami

'Tzazae' - Cheb Mami

'Apologise' - Timbaland feat. One Republic

'Easy to Please' - Coldplay

'Eleanor' - Low Millions

'Every breath you take' - The Police

'Stigmatized' - The Calling (beeauutiful)

'Mar Jaawaan' - 'Fashion'
'Mein Herz Brennt' - Rammstein

'Najaney kyun' - Strings

'Varaka Nathikarai' - 'Sangamam' ( I don't know why this song makes me sad but it does)

'Ye mera divanapan hai' - 'The Namesake'

'Ek geet hijar da' - Rabbi

'Afterglow' - INXS (of course)

'Simple like the truth' - Darius

'Undiscovered' - Ashlee Simpson

'Thaiyya thaiyya' - 'Dil Se'

'Polly come home' - Robert Plant and Alison Krauss

'With or without you' - U2

'All I want is you' - U2

Or the best way to get out of it would be to listen to some good old chauvinistic, unsentimental 50 Cent, don't cha think?

Silence is easy, it just becomes me

I've finally found an appropriate place to use this lyric ('Silence is Easy' by Starsailor). No, I did not spend a week at the Vipasana Ashram or take a vow of silence. I had laryngitis.
A rather dreadful cough coupled with the flu (the one I got on my Mum's happy birthday) turned into an inability to flex any of my vocal cords.I was reduced to gesturing, glaring and grunting. Moreover, I'd just taken up a ridiculous prepaid scheme which reduced my balance to zilch so I couldn't message anyone. Perfect timing.
So, like any self-respecting nerd, I turned to Harry Potter. Now, I'm not one of those who write obsessive fan fictions or live on Harry Potter fansites and know the Patronus of each character. (Okay, I might know THAT) But I like Harry Potter and I always have, right from the time I read the first book and before it was anything of a universal craze.
But this time, I got hooked. I started re reading the series backwards and fell in love all over again. Man, J.K. Rowling must've done LOADS of research- mythology, esotericism and whatnot. It's not like she just invented everything out of thin air. It is nearly convincingly true. And oh, how I wish it was.
Most of all, it's the pure human values that draw you. Friendship, bravery, sacrifice, honesty and purity of heart. I think that's what hit me the hardest about the books.
Anyway, so I was curled up in bed for nearly a week after the submissions, devouring the world of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore and the rest. (Sirius used to be my favourite character but I think Snape has become the most intriguing. Okay, I'll stop now. An apology to my non-Harry Potter reading readers!)
Apart from being immersed in the dialogue of the characters and snatches of movies ('The Trail of the Pink Panther', 'Music and Lyrics', bits of 'Meet Joe Black' and 'The Pelican Brief'), I was totally silent. Much to the fury of my friends (whose calls and messages I couldn't answer. I'm honestly sorry about that!) and the boredom of my Mum, I retreated to my own private cellar of a mind. I faced my loneliness, my solitude, what have you. And you know what? I think it was for the good.
I realised that I can be alone and it's nothing to fear. It's not the greatest feeling but it's not rock bottom either. You can survive it. All that matters is that you be true to yourself.
I realised I can be bored and that doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Books and TV can be good company. But the best company can be your close ones whom you can just sit beside and not say a word.
I realised that I can dream a little dream and enjoy it . I don't have to kill myself into desperation by trying to make that dream come true.
So, at the end of my involuntary 'retreat', I find myself a little stronger, a little wiser, a lot more patient, a little friendless (ahem!) but a whole lot more peaceful. I'm no guru. I'm still the crabby old part-Cancerian. But I like silence. It just becomes me. And I kinda like what I become.

Oktober-Fest!

October is probably my favourite month of the year, alongwith June (my birth month). Not just because of the delicious weather, which makes every dream seem plausible, but because most of my favourite people are born in October.
Let's see. Starting off with both my parents, Numbi Jim, My cousin 'Miguel' (after the character in one of my favourite animated movies of all time - 'The Road to El Dorado'), Tabi, Ach (a good old school friend whose birthday dinner was an occasion to meet after such a looonnng time!) and more. At last count, the total list added up to more than eleven people. By the way, here's wishing fellow blogger V a belated happy birthday! I'm so sorry I forgot. I hope you had a lovely day.
So, as you can imagine, it's a fun month. Lots of birthday get-togethers, gift shopping (I love gift shopping!), dinners, happy joy! But the best part about a birthday is that it is a day that's supposed to belong entirely to you. I don't know about some people but I think everyone likes to enjoy that one day of importance. A birth ANNIVERSARY.
However, as much as I was enjoying the celebrating, what I was really looking forward to was my Mum's birthday.Not that I'd planned much (lost the knack of making those millions of cards I used to make as a kid. ) but her best friend was taking us out to one of my favourite restaurants and I was all kicked.
Of course I had to fall really sick and couldn't eat anything besides a little bit of a starter and a brownie. Not that I could taste anything. Seriously, it was a sad situation. I had to keep myself comforted with cups and cups of Chinese tea.
In the midst of all of that, I was racing against time to complete a major major assignment due today. Didn't sleep the whole of last night. This flu really slows down the senses. It's a miracle I survived. I'm normally flat out if I have the slightest fever. But time I was really ill, coughing nonstop (now I have a baritone). Surprisingly (and thankfully!), I actually managed to finish the project. Despite the fact that it was pouring cats and dogs and COWS and a whole huge heap of bougainvillea fell on to the driveway of my house and I couldn't take the car out to get some stuff printed. So guess who was standing in the rain with flu, trying to flag down an auto? I never could've done it if my Mum hadn't stayed awake half the time and pushed me on when all I wanted was to keel over, under the influence of cough syrup.Thanks to her. God is truly great. But let's hope it doesn't get rejected. Cross fingers.
There's another big one due tomorrow. I'm surprisingly quite relaxed about this one. It's on two of my favourite topics: Indian films (okay, not films...MOVIES) and fashion.
So, let me get back to MS Word. And I'll see on the other side of the submissions, the flu and will report back to you on the rest of this beautiful month...

Expectations...

I found this really really cool quote. Actually, it was a headline for a print ad for Vimal Suitings or something.
"My life. It's what happens between yesterday and tomorrow"
Not extraordinarly original or earth-shattering, but increasingly relevant for me. I salute the copywriter, whoever came up with it.
Another one, "Map out your dreams, but do it in pencil" - Bon Jovi (not word for word, I must admit)
So, I was doing some thinking (not thaaat much, don't worry). Here's the plan: TO NOT HAVE PLANS!
Yes, yes, before you say 'caution to the winds' and all that, hear me out. If you want something really badly, just let it go. If it's meant to happen, if it's meant to be yours- IT WILL and NOTHING and NO ONE can come in between!
Final year of school: Me sitting at the last desk, the one by the window, which looked out into this big pretty pastel-coloured house in front and to the side was the koovum river surrounded by greenery of some kind. (yes I know, I don't know why the koovum creeps up into this blog so often) Anyway, I'd be sitting there, half jotting down stuff about shares and debentures (I don't remember more than these two words in my two years of commerce education. And I got 95% both in Accounts and Business Studies. GO figure.) But my mind was really somewhere else, probably here in Estarra, clueless about the present, clueless about the future. I had no idea whatsoever what I wanted to do after school. What I did know was that I didn't want to talk about it.
Well, I did always did vaguely, detachedly dream of a certain college. And then, I applied. I wanted it. But the interview time came...and I talked and talked...and forgot to show them my certificates!
Needless to say, I was devastated for 2 days. But I guess whatever was meant to be, happened...and I got in anyway!
So, I'm following Santiago in 'The Alchemist'. He believed in his dream but he didn't obsess about it. He worked for it, but he didn't spend night and day fretting about it. He believed he was worthy to deserve it. And that was enough for him till his dream became reality.
So...if you love somebody, let them go... (you can fill in the rest)
If you want to be somebody, let it go...do all you can to be the best YOU can be...and see what happens...
If you want something really bad, let it go...if it's meant to be, it shall.
But then they say that if you don't fight for what you believe in, you won't get it. I think that your heart will tell you what to do then. Listen to it. It's your best guide. If there's nothing you can do about a situation, let it be. But if there's something you can, let your heart be your fire and fight for that good cause of yours!
I would say the disappointments come in life from expecting. But I just caught a scene from 'Something's Gotta Give' where Diane Keaton tells her daughter (Amanda Peet) that she's in love. She's crying. Amanda tells her that she should be like herself and not be so attached that she gets broken-hearted. She should not let go of herself so much that she forgets herself. Diane Keaton looks at her and shakes her head. She expected and wanted and she's in too deep. "Do you really believe that?", she asks her daughter. She tells her that that's not a way to live.
Theoretically, Amanda Peet's view sorta contributes to my philosophy at this point. But let's see if we really can keep Diane Keaton's at bay. :)

Channelising happy thoughts while plunging into Marxism

When things get me Grrr Aaargh Sheesh Ughh , I try to concentrate on the things that make me go mmmm.
Let's see. Right now, in the midst of Althusser's Ideology (he murdered his wife and spent the rest of his life in asylum. And we're studying him. Right.) and gathering knowledge on the Marxist media theory, I'm trying to enjoy the pure education process. It's nice to learn stuff. Even though you're dreaming of pizza while watching VH1.
FOCUS!
So...where was I? Yes, what's getting me all flustered. I don't know. General snappiness and irritation with all those around. Except Butterfly, whom I'm sending Low Millions songs to and generally cracking up on how our mock-pronunciations are turning into actual pronunciations. It's karma paying back for mimicking the hilariously adorable Tamil accent.
Yeah, Butterfly. I really have missed her. She was the muse behind the whole post about girlfriends being the best in the not soooo distant past. Whatever happened in between happened. All that matters between me and her IS me and her. And how can you not be friends with someone whom you have watched 'Cries and Whispers' with? I tell you, that movie is PURE AGONY. And we survived it. TWICE.
So, back to snappiness. Let's deviate from it...
Let's think of Amelie and living in her world.
Let's think of gorgeous Vogue magazine and Elle also.
Let's think of autumn leaves, red and gold (like Imp describes Sweden right now. Okay. I'm NOT going to talk about that lucky idiot genius fellow.) But let's think of the leaves, drifting in that perfect chilly breeze as you hug your jacket close to yourself and shiver in pure enjoyment.
Let's think of cities of blinding lights. Ah, Paris.
Adam Cohen's voice. Sigh!
Gregorian chants. Deep. Spiritual. Relaxation.
Numbi Jim's birthday day after. I can't believe that brat is going to be 20.
My real life idol and his coolness!

Will add more. Too destressed to write right now. Moreover, Althusser beckons. (Oh no.)

Ode to a Hanging iPod

Your beautiful face
Blank, expressionless
As if we were strangers
You gaze back at me
As if in a trance
Our eyes meet
But what of our souls?

I want to take you in my arms
Hear you whisper sweet things in my ear
Feel my heart race
I want to take you in my arms
And beg your heart to be mine again

But you look at me
Frozen, thoughtless
Leaving me alone in silence

Wake up, fill me up
Do not leave me thus
My naked ears cry for coverage
My fingers ache for your menu
Wake up!
Come fill me up againnnnnnnnnnnn.............

I am trying to believe

There was this poetic point in time where everyone was in love (and more importantly, being loved back) except for me. Me and a choice few singles left (namely Numbi Jim-my best sister-friend and K) would sit and whine about how we were soooo single and that it would be too late for us to ever learn to mingle.

Well, Numbi Jim, the singlest of all people I know (as in, she wanted to be footloose and fancy free and crush to her heart's delight without getting crushed) got committed. And happily. And well, too many people are in love with K now for him to be complaining. Even though, he doesn't necessarily love them back. But still!

As for me, I'm okay. I like being single, even though I do whine. But what made me happy, in a sort of vicarious way was seeing all the happy relationships all around. Of course, they weren't picture perfect (trust me, I've done my fair share of counselling for both the sexes!) but they were so....beautiful. Love that lasted. And I counted them on my fingers as statistics, as proof of that magic. Maybe I believed that their good fortune would rub off on me and I would find that same joy. Maybe I was just happy living in their happiness. So what if I was single? Their commitment was enough for me, as strange as it sounds.

But of course, it was all a mirage. Silly me for idolising. Silly me for casting eyes. People are fallible and their loves fragile.

With a heavy heart, I picked the pieces of my illusion and moved on. If there's a hook up season, there should be a break up season. Who knows what's right and what's forever? For every Jab We Met, there has to be a Saawariya. For every Brangelina, there has to have been a Brad and Jen.

So, do I shake my head, embittered, older and wiser? Is it ridiculous of me to have faith in adolescent relationships when I have witnessed divorces? Is it like believing in Santa? I want to believe. I want to have people to stand as living reminders that magic is alive and kicking. I want you all to fall and STAY in love, people!

But what if they can't? What if one day they just woke up and realised that they loved someone else? What if they were just plain bored? What if the love potion wore off or they put on a pair of glasses and realised that they were falling into the biggest ditch? I cannot chain them to my childhood fantasies and make them live them out for me. Whether they're making a mistake or not, it's their life and not mine to judge.

Sigh.

But people still fall in love. After all the pain and all the nonsense. They wipe away their tears and look into the eyes of a brand new person, hoping to see the world in them. I wonder how they do it. I wonder if I would be able to take it. I don't want to know.

Is love that magnificent that it can break a person and yet a whiff can make one want to try again? Is it addiction or hope?

I hope it's hope.

Two of My Favourite Girls

Spent a blissful evening watching two of my favourite movies-Juno and Amelie. Both titles are names of girls and the lead characters, though strikingly different. Both are quirky and conflicted but so adorable. And I just LOVE them!

I started off with Juno, to lapse into the world of the I-don't-give-a-damn adolescent. She's so content with the way she is, without really being egoistic, if you notice it. I love that whole town and the way she bikes around. Happy fish in small pond, I feel. Not striving to be something that she's not. She wears boy's clothes. She doesn't think about whether she's a great guitarist and is going to make it big-she just plays. The dialogues are funny and witty, but it's Juno's whole character that makes them stand out. It could've fallen flat with any other actress. Ellen Page fits Juno to a T. And I love the way the movie crosses the four seasons.

I wanted Mum to watch it but she slept halfway. So I watched for a bit and then decided I needed some French magic. Over to Amelie.

Now, this is one movie that's been embedded in my subconscious since I watched it 6 odd years ago. She's also not striving to be anything. Amelie's just a waitress (in a gorgeous cosy little apartment that I would just crave) with eccentric colleagues, neighbours and a rather lonely past. What happens is a series of events that cause her to become a do-gooder. Thanks to that, we get a stunning visual treat as she shoots around town, sprinkling peoples' lives with magic. I can feel her glee as she sees people surprised and then delighted because of her setting things right in their lives. And of course, Audrey Tautou is one of my favourite actresses of all time.Jean Pierre Jeunet and her make a delightful director-actor duo (A Very Long Engagement is another of my favourites. I love his storytelling style.) Mathieu Kassovitz adds to the visual treat. He he. Their romance is just too cute.

But alas, the dvd got stuck. Maybe it was time for me to sleep. Fell asleep with magic in my heart and a smile upon my face.

I am therefore I think...I hope!

This is intended to be an intellectual blog post, intended for the advancement of my own intellect, which has increasingly been neglected. Except, perhaps for those 5 hours of each day. But drama in college life has become so much larger than the actual purpose! Who can concentrate on media democracy or Marxism when SHE actually SAID THAT and then HE said WHAT and then THEY ALL went WHERE and SAW WHOM.
Omg. Lol lol.
But seriously, I am an intellectual person. With sober thoughts on mankind and society and with....knowledge.
Waaah.
What happened to me?
I used to be the twelve year old kid who could spout info on the entire Mughal Dynasty on our trip to Fatehpur Sikri. Honest. The guide was astounded when I asked him questions about Gauharara. (She was the last daughter of Shah Jahan and her mother Mumtaz Mahal who died while giving birth to her.)
Well, I've been starting to analyse my intellectual deterioration and see if it's really something to worry about. Lemme think. I listen in class. I read the paper. I read..books..when I can. I must admit a fixation with my iTunes. And well, Zoom TV.
Okay, I don't know anything about stock markets. And my knowledge of psychology is pretty much limited to Visual Analysis and Aesthetics class. Which I pay full attention to, by the way.
Sir: See, if you agree with these theories, you're a Freudian philosopher. If you don't agree to these theories....
Class (in unison): ...You're a fraud philosopher!
As you can see, I learn a lot from my classmates. Such as Aeroplane.
Me: What was that stuff sir said about Freud?
Aeroplane: Freud? Who? Pink Freud?

So you can't really blame me for questioning my state of brain. I used to be the quiz-girl, me and Ess used to ace all the quizzes when we got together. Of course he was and always is the encyclopaedia (not dusty and a little more colourful though. He he.) but I wasn't so bad. I think. I hope.

What should I do to change this state of affairs?
-Read the Economic Times? (I left behind commerce in school, which is another century of life. No, no numbers please.)
-Ask Ess to fill my brain with facts. (No, I like talking to Ess about self issues. He puts things in perspective. When his blues and my blah moods collide, they just fade away!)
-Read Leo Tolstoy and Doy-shtov-sky. (Give me Ann Brashares' teenage yet delicate, non soppy prose. Give me Paolo Coelho's simplicity. Mario Puzo, even.)
-Write.

Hmm, that I don't mind. When I write, I feel like I'm capable of thinking. Like I'm alive. It's like when the pen touches paper (Or when my fingertips hit the keyboard), it's like a pinprick or a splash of cold water, waking me up.
Till I can attempt to finish 'Atlas Shrugged', I think this should do.

Guilty Pleasures!

I have come to the conclusion that music forms me. If there can be Ardhnaareeshwar (half man, half woman in divine form), then I'm half music. I am incomplete without it. I cannot get ready and kicking unless there is a song playing from the 'Therapy' list on my iTunes (usually Koothu Tamil) I cannot let go of my pain unless I listen to 'Chhalla' or 'Apologise' or search for some appropriate song. So, I don't care if I need to learn to be independent and if you scorn me because one ear is always connected to a earphone. Music helps me where people can't. It makes sense out of life, whether through the strum of a guitar, a magically apt string of words or the dhinchak of a masala movie song. So, let me present to you my latest addictions, the healthy guilty pleasures.

- Low Millions. I think the only album they released was 'Ex-Girlfriends' and I'm not sure if the only hit they had was 'Eleanor', the ultimately sarcastic yet tragic break up song. But I've fallen in love with singer Adam Cohen's voice, particularly on 'Mockingbird'. I love the words.
"You say you love me but you don't love me, you say you hate me but you don't hate me, you say you'd leave me but you can't leave me, because you love me, what's it gonna be, what is wrong with you, what is wrong with me."
Deliciously addictive.

-'Chhalla' as sung by Rabbi. He's taken the original traditional Gurdas Mann Punjabi folk song and sung it to an acoustic guitar. It feels as if he is singing it at dusk in a dimly lit room over a broken heart.

-'The Good Soldier' by Nine Inch Nails. Okay, I can't help it. I am drawn to anything by Trent Raznor but this song really fit my state of mind for the past week.'
"I am trying to see
I am trying to believe
This is not where I should be
I am trying to believe"

'Wednesday (No Se Apoye)' by Mike Doughty. I love his abstract, meandering lyrics, particularly 'I Hear the Bells'. But 'Wednesday' is beautiful, rainy and lounge-y, to be soaked up during a light, lazy afternoon or an endless drive.

Let the rain fall down...

My wishlist for 'Autumn' 2008:
As the leaves fall (well atleast in other prettier parts of the world) and as the breeze sweeps them away. As the rain clouds gather and as the water washes away the moments of feeling nowhere...I wish...
-to be content within myself and free from fear of the future.

-unlimited subscription to VOGUE magazine!

-to see the good in everyone and not to judge anyone if they have different values from mine.

-a nice new stereo system that doesn't get stuck while attempting to play my new compilation of koothu songs. Boo hoo.

-to be unafraid to be alone and to rejoice in my solitude, without any fear of future regret.

-to be comfortable in my own skin... and also to stick to some kind of exercise routine!!! (this is really a wishlist)

-Having said that, LOADS of nice nice clothes !!

-to be around nature somehow, somewhere, always.

-to not be stressed!

-to stop bothering what people think about me and whether they think at all

-to always be surrounded by music-the masala, the melodious, the meaningful and the mad.

-to stop having crushes that crush me! (VERY IMPORTANT!) But I think this is possible. I'm growing older and a little wiser.

-to disconnect from the insignificant

-to manage my anger! (Will martial arts help?)

-to just LIVE

-to love my family the way they deserve because they have been there for me like noone else has, my tiny little family.

-to stop wanting to belong, to some culture, to some language, to someone, to something. To enjoy being as solid as thin air and as undefinable.

-to write forever! Because that's the only thing I seem to stick to!

This is the life!

I'll admit it. I've been listening to Miley Cyrus. But I'm not alone! Two of my final year college girlfriends do too.
I used to scoff at them, but a couple of episodes down the line and I was sorta, well, hooked. Come on, she's funny. And cool. For a fifteen year old.
But that's not the point. I got one of her songs, 'Rockstar'. Catchy and cute. And what's the other one? 'Best of Both Worlds'. How she's a small town girl and also this rockstar with a great big limo, varied wardrobe, how it's such a cool life, etc.
Is it really?
I think it would be nice to be a musician (and good at it), perform onstage and express yourself through song. But if you can't? Then I'm happy the way I am.
I mean, I'm twenty years old. My achievements may be zilch compared to what Miley Cyrus has achieved, despite being 5 years younger than me. I may not look exactly like what I want to look like. But I'm not repulsive either. I live at home and have a long way to go before standing on my own two feet. But I'm happy this way!
I'm still in college. It's nice to be spoon-fed a little. It's nice to have assignments and presentations. It's nice to have the adolescent drama among my friends that is funny only at the school/college level. Beyond that, it gets adult and scary.
It's nice to wake up late. VERY IMPORTANT.
It's nice that the only social commitments I have are break-time trips to the new canteen (totally cool by the way. It doesn't feel like college. It's AC, it's bright, there's variety and it's CHEAP. Moreover, the proceeds go to charity. Can you beat that?). Of course, there are occasional compulsions to go clubbing (like tonight) when I'd rather be at home reading 'Nurjahan' ( I love Mughal history. But too many names. A little confusing) But that takes a little wheedling. Then I can get back to my room and under the covers with the book. (I am so much fun, no?)
It's nice to be whatever size I am and not expected to don the trendiest outfits or be shunned by fashion police. I can always wear my baggy clothes. (though I have to hide out in my room when guests come.)
It's nice that I'm not expected to have a ginormous vocal range and I can shout along to 'I want to break free' in my car (ignoring the stares and gestures of pedestrians and other drivers. Hello! Don't mind me! Concentrate on the road!)
And it's also nice to wait and watch and see who I turn out to be, rather than discover it at age ten! A little mystery is fun.