Everything's Going to Be Alright

Soprano voices rising together in harmony, echoing across the railway tracks, far enough to sound other-worldly, close enough to warm this chill.

Hot baths, clean water, freshly washed hair.

Music sharing, the old fashioned way. As old-fashioned as syncing an iPod can be.

Movies to watch. So many movies to watch.

Endorphins from running a little extra everyday.

Telling stories-real, made-up, written, oral, imagined and lived.

Dreaming. Tomorrow will be bigger, better and alright.

Un Momento

There's a vaguely-coloured butterfly air-skipping out in the verendah in the sopoforic heat.
My Mum finds a pair of binoculars and peers at me from across the room. I love her when she's off-centre.
My father's TV's on and comments blare about Prime Minister Manmohan Singh's body language at a recent press conference. My father watches blissfully, his own commentary running in his mind which he will soon disclose to me. I can always count on him to update me when am not in the mood for the newspaper.
There are friends on my phone, friends in my email, friends loving, liking, friends I don't need right away but who comfort by simply existing. Nusaa, hello :)
Right now, I'm checking out Jamie Woon on youtube. I say 'Night Air' is my song, dark and delicate but you know what? Daytime isn't so bad.

It's that time of the year again

Transition phase. That's what I've come to label it. Though it shouldn't be labelled. Itchy feet, wandering mind. Shouldn't be labelled.


The trees are shedding. Walking from the gym one night, I chanced upon my parked car to find it sprinkled in the fairy magic of showering lilac/white flowers. It was magical, beautiful. I felt chosen.


The sun's getting stronger, brighter, assertive, grabbing at me through windows, doors, whenever, wherever. Making its presence felt.


Most of all, the college. Any college. Or school. The place instinctively knows that times are a-changing. People are a-changing. Trees shedding their leaves, people shedding their skins. Their distracted gazes stare straight through the distracted gazes of others and at places beyond, people who they are going to be or not. They have things to do (dissertations in this case) but they Stop and Stare, as if momentarily frozen in the searing sun. Conversations slow down, the mind's whirrings slow down to a squeaky rotation and afternoon naps are the most prized possessions of the day.

For me, this is the season Enrique becomes prominent on my playlist, despite friends' (those jealous boys) shrieking protests of his "popness" (among other things). It's a summer ritual since I was 13 and a very important half, since I first fell in love with the Spanish singer and Spanish in general and those happy songs made me Escape (excluding 'Hero' which I never really liked) and have eased me into the path of transition. From middle school to high school and the hugest, most painful crush ever. From high school ending to joining my gym and then the most transformative of places, college where I learnt what it is like to fall in love with a place. And now, from my possibly finalmost time at college to life and for the first time, Free Fallin' into the unknown, for the first time unafraid.

Hug

Bursting at the seams! Gimme more, more, more! Life and within it, love, beauty, truth, freedom, colour, laughter, sunshine, rain, song, dance, word, sound, rhythm, stillness, exclamation marks! Let me dance on my imaginary stage, let me jive to the beat in my car, alone, in a sea of unknown vehicles and unknown passersby. Let me be. Let me not choose, let me have it all. Let me sing at the top of my lungs, let me smile at strangers, let me share in their family stories, let me adore them, let them adore me, let us play with children, let us give a ear to those older. Let me cry for you, let me save the world from my deskchair. Let me love my favourite song du jour and let yourself love it with me. Let me be all that I can be, let there be space in this jostling madness for all the me. Let me wander, let me be lost. Let me not worry about what's going to happen to me; let it happen anyway. Let me be young for as long as I like. Let me fall in love with you, then me, then you, then myself all over again. Let me stare at the mirror in wonder. Let me run, please! Let me free, free, free. Let me embrace this maddening and infuriating world in all its candy-coloured, sweltering and freezing, multi-sensory glory, let me grin with dazzling brightness, let me rival the sun. Let me explode before I implode.

Bubbles and water (Thanks, Alizee)

I have learnt something from my friend K, despite having ragged him for the same.

I have learnt to appreciate the beauty of having long baths.

There's something to be said for setting aside an hour (in K's case, four) for a cleansing of the physical, mental and emotional kind. Because that's what a long bath does to you. Especially if you do it right.

I'm the kind who spends half the week taking three 4 minute showers a day, and the rest of the week, baths that would put a slow motion feature to shame. It's fun to have all that time only to oneself. Nice not to make compromises. Quality time with oneself. Accompanied with the soothing nature of water. And of course an assorted mix of soap, shampoo, a loofah, besan and other exfoliants.

Music! Particularly the sedative variety. Or acoustic easy listening. Pachabel's Canon, 'Si tu no vuelves' by Miguel Bose and Shakira, 'Pehli baar mohabbat' from 'Kaminey', and sometimes Bach's Fugues.

The point is the slowing down. Feet get special priority. After all, they've been carrying me around all my life. They deserve a lot of attention-scrub, scrub, scrub.

My mind wanders. The previous day/days forgotten. Sounds echo and the water swirls around, leaving me to dream and let go. From water, indeed, we are born. Or reborn.

Where is the rain?

Seriously, it's time. Summer has dragged and yanked and left us with diminished patience. Now's the time for pretend-autumn/winter and for Madras to fake a semblance of romantic ambience. (I'm sorry but the second longest beach in the world does not seem to contribute in that area)
I know, I know, the monsoons have failed, etc. But come on! This is what I've been looking forward to since...well, the 'winter'.
I want rain and its accompanying magic. I want teasing breeze and broody skies. I want to stare out of the window and not see insipid endless white sky. I want it all and I want it now (Couldn't resist Queen, now could I? Insert shameless grin here.)
So, rain on down, now. Perhaps the Native American nature songs I'm listening to might help.
Or I might be accidentally calling out to the wolves, I'm not sure.

Today is good

Wide open spaces. Summer afternoon haze through rectangular windows. Lying on the ground in the centre of the empty upstairs drawing room, listening to Queen, feeling liberated in the companionship of your own self. Walking on the sweltering streets of Chennai, under the suffocation that is undeniably April in Chennai with an old friend whom you haven't hung out with in ages, talking about 2012 doomsday. Uplifting. Discovering a xerox shop you had passed by a million times and never noticed. Talking about college ending with the relief that everyone doesn't hate everyone else anymore. Corn, corn, boiled corn with chilly powder. Cold water straight from the fridge drunk quickly and desperately. A long bath, the first of many during the long day. Sunlight, unceasing sunlight, pinning you down helpless until you surrender with a smile. All the negotiations you tried in the years before, cast away. All the escape routes you dreamt, abandoned as uncertain applications submitted to the universe. All that remains is you and the summer- depressing, dominating, debilitating. And inevitable. A rite of passage. A feigned love motivated by expectations of surprises...

Sunday evening dream time

My back is aching sitting at the computer for so long, translating Spanish documents. (Oh boy, am I loving this work, reconnecting me to my long-lost passion for the language. But it's TIRING!) I'm thinking of this place whose photo adorns my desktop. I WANT TO BE THERE!!
And I'm listening to 'Marudaani' and feeling all romancy and yearning for a place I've never been. Mostly, it's Greece. Though I should be listening to 'Zorba the Greek' to satiate that itchy feeling. But that's not such a romantic tune, is it now.
(Insert sigh here)
I should shut up and listen to 'Naaka Mukka' instead.

Slightly tripping

Staring at the sun is not the best of ideas. Side effects include walking into walls and loss of vision immediately afterwards. You blink repeatedly in a most retarded fashion.

But it’s a great feeling.

Particularly when it’s the five o’clock lazy waning sunlight of late winter in Madras.

And you’re leaning against a wall that has a window to the West, the angle of the window so perfect that the sun drops right down on your face. Yellow light against white walls. Pigeons cooing softly somewhere out of vision. You can’t see anything except the sky outside, but that’s enough. More than enough. You’re squinting but you’re smiling. You’re all alone with the Sun. You close your eyes and upturn your face.

I don’t know why I feel like I was born into this moment, that this moment, this merging with the sunlight is my destiny.

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.

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.)

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!

Lazy Don't Save Me

It's all cloudy. I'm picturing a desolate beach(the white sand variety) under green palms( do those exist?) swaying under a tempestuous breeze to the sound of the waves.
According to K, I shall find this in Kerala. In all probability, yes. But I'm highly sceptical owing to my memory of the place my Mum dragged me to 3 years ago. It was hot and we spent all the time temple-hopping (which was not as bad as I thought it would be. Except for the time I stepped into fresh cowdung and had to wipe it off with newspapers and grass. Repeat after finicky-me, EW.)
So, well, basically I never got to experience desolate beaches of any kind, kathakali dances, boathouses (though we did get to boat on the Vembanad Lake) or those other 'God's own country' things which I drool over in travel advertising features. It was a learning experience, though and made me realise how much of a city slicker I am. It didn't manage to make me to feel any connection with my so-called Malayali blood (does it exist if you don't believe its existence?) But it was good. Remind me to tell you about it, some other, more proactive time.
Well, I hope I encounter some of those dreamy imageries when we go on our class excursion at the end of this month. (It aches to think Naveen won't be there with us. It's so strange how life has to move on. Sigh.)
Back to my dreamy state of existence. It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, almost Sunday-like, but only with a vague expectation of activity. I wonder if I will ever get up to it. Have been dreaming of long TV hours with a mug of cold coffee (No one makes the way I LOVE it like Mum does)
Have an exam on Monday-Mass Communication Theories. (Honestly, it's more interesting than it sounds). Got a pile of notes to rifle through. But all I want to do is dream of picture-postcard beach and listen to the alt songs under the playlist I titled 'Moments' in my iTunes. Listening to Rabbi's new album now. Nowhere as great as his debut album, but appropriate for my current mood.
Oh, did I tell you about the Strings concert I went for last Saturday? It was absolutely beautiful. Sure, Parikrama was great ( I especially loved their own comp 'Am I Dreaming?'. Man I wish I could get my hands on that song) but when Strings came on, they brought such a precious, positive energy to the atmosphere. I totally lost myself there. The music, the lyrics, the melody and the sweetness in their performance. Just thinking about it makes me smile. I've always been in love with their songs 'Sirkiye yeh pahar' and 'Anjaane' (have mentioned the lyrics in my previous blog post of favourite lyrics) but their new one 'Koi Aaney Wala Hai' is adorable as well. I love the lyrics. It's about expecting an angel. And they depict that in the video too, with John Abraham as an angel. Ha ha ha. But I prefer imagining it in my own way. Bilal (oh he's so cute!) and Faisal(oh he's so sweet!) are angels enough.
Well, I'm going off for now before I ramble any further. This has been a long, aimless one-sided conversation (oh God!! That reminds me of the criticisms of the dominant paradigm of Development Communication. Don't. Even. Go. There. My exam's over today and I don't wanna think about it all over again. Though it is highly interesting...google it if you're interested. I taught 4 different people about it, including myself and my mandatory student, J.)
OK. BYE FOR NOW. (Someone gag me!)

Anyone out there?

Hellooooooo
Anyone awake??
Someone wanna talk????
Not that I'm free right now. I have a lot of work to do. A major submission coming up for which I have to act FAST. I also have to wake up tomorrow early for the annual day at the corporation school where me and my classmates have duty. I am also very sleepy.
But I wanna talk...........
My music is my greatest companion and I am free spirit to empowered aura from one song to the next.
But I wanna talk...to someone....!!!
I have soooo much to doooo....
But I don't feel like being alone...
I want to sleeeeep....
But I wanna talk first....
Let's talk about Sufism
Let's talk about the magical coincidence of reciprocated love (how does it happen that often?! )
Let's talk about the wondrous beauty of sleep
Let's dream of desert sands swirling to the beat of drums
Let's drift away on a wave towards infinity....

OK I think I need to sleep!!!!