...And then life gives you a break

So after a long, therapeutic, post-midnight conversation with my positive conscience (A.K.A. Jhinks) I regained a fresh perspective on what this studying process actually means to me. She gave me pointers on what I'd forgotten-doing something for the love of it. And she's the right person to do so because the real reason I'm doing this course and enjoying a second chance at collegehood and knowledge-acquisition is the fact that she told me to accompany her to admissions last year and then overslept, thus making me go on my own and buying an application I didn't intend to. The story is longer and funnier but does not really belong here at this moment. Let's catalogue that under LIFE'S SECRET SMILES or GOING WITH THE FLOW. Or maybe just DESTINY.

Anyway, so Jhinks told me that it was absaaloootellyyyy (that sounds more like me) okayyyy to spend three hours on a page..just as long as I committed myself to every word on that page. Sai Baba, my Mum and others have all extolled on putting your best into what you're supposed to do at that moment. And also, God helps those who help themselves. I've always been all for that (as it distracts me from the looming questions) But I guess I needed a reminder. And last night, in that semi-conscious, giggly state that comes from sleep deprivation and a long rollercoaster conversation with your best friend since you were ten, I was coached into no more stress, no more million distractions (How I Met Your Mother, iTunes, or Diwali get togethers) only steely, slow, steady, studious state of mindedness (AhAA!)

And then I wake up, all set to delve into neutrality and the laws of warfare (after being distracted by Obama's rather fulfilling session with St. Xavier's students in Mumbai. "India has risen"-that should bury yesterday's disappointment. Whatever it is, I felt redeemed watching the interaction) and hello, Cyclone Jal (a creative name or what?) is heading our way. I go check my abandoned phone and find a barrage of missed calls and expectant messages. Holiday or not? Exam postponed or what? An hour later, we were sure. It's kinda like a damp, chilly Diwali present.

So I'm taking a few hours off to myself. Gotta clear out the week's worth of empty water bottles from this room, wipe the smudgy spectactles with my special lint-free blue cloth, burn a CD of funny songs (Action Replayy! Stupid and hilarious! Just the way I love it. Akshay Kumar is classically comical and it's nice to see Aishwarya Rai-Bachchan act goofy) and then get back to focusedness.

The adulation for Obama's nation (Sorry, Kanye)

The three-syllable proper noun is being chanted every couple of nano seconds on consecutive news channels as part of a flurry of commentary in English and every single Indian language. And in my father's room, there is a lot of channel flipping. So it's 'bamobamaobamaobama' 24/7 with opinions on the shaky airplane ladder to his 'महत्त्वपूर्ण' (important) words signed at the 26/11 memorial to a literal memorisation of his itinerary for today.

Not that I would really mind. I was a fan, still am and am reluctant to give it up. But being a student of IR, I am supposed to be objective and reasoning. Not non-commital on the aid to Pakistan deal. Being a citizen of India, I am supposed to be patriotic. Furious at "insourcing". He is the president of the USA after all. We aren't supposed to expect him to shine his benevolent, leader-of-the-free-world grace upon us. We know the NSS drill-geostrategic, geoeconomic, geopolitical that are consistent of US foreign policy. We know he's been wary of the surge of India and China and our impact on US jobs. My homeland's just started seeing economic success and we don't really want to give that up. Yet we are all fans. We want this hero to be universal, unconstrained by national jurisdiction and commitments and a house divided. Why does he feel like "our guy"? Cause he quotes Nehru and the Mahatma? Cause he spent some time in Indonesia as a kid and his sister's half-Indonesian? Cause he's brown? Cause he's a realisation of the American dream? Wait a second, why do we have an American dream? Let's skip that. We all still measure success in dollars and we can't really help it. We like the American political system, we followed Obama's election more closely than Dr. Singh's. We know Joe Biden better than our own vice-president, what's his name? Her name? (Shri M. Hamid Ansari, thank you, Google) Let's face it. Indian politics is a mess and it's uncool. Why, even American politics wasn't as glam when Bush was around. Obama brought his charm, his oratorical skills, his ideals and wife and made us dream in red, white and blue again. Can we help it? We're only human.

I'm still a fan, still want a hero and am still not about to let go of the voice that enriched my thought process through 'Dreams From My Father', the opinions that aided my answer papers in college. So let me have my illusions a little while longer. Let me imagine this American leader belongs to all of us and we can all catch a bit of stardust.

Raavan-Ready

Waiting for Raavan. Getting lost in the genius of A. R. Rahman. He does it again. Seeps under your skin. Maybe there're more catchy tunes, more structured compositions but there is no musician who so consistently infuses his work with his soul and reaches out to your soul. Firstly, I need no more reasons to want to see Raavan: the Ramayan has always been my favourite epic, Raavan an intriguing character, Mani Ratnam possibly the greatest filmmaker of India and Abhishek Bachchan, one of the best actors making this character uniquely his own with passion and madness. As far as I can see. I am waiting with bated breath.

'Behene De', a song that has been on repeat for me for the past one week. It's painful to listen to, being a song of longing and agony but ever so addictive and ever so beautiful, layered and delicate, sung by Karthik (yay he's from the same school I went to). A love (?) song exactly the way I love it-intense and dramatic and somehow subtle in the passionate lyrics by Gulzar. 'Thok de Kili', reminiscent of my type of songs-'Barra Barra' and other angry electric guitar/percussion based numbers and of course, featuring one of my favourite singers-Sukhwinder Singh. Its poetry is pulsating. 'Kata Kata' has been compared to 'Rukmini' but where 'Rukmini' was teasing and cheeky to an extent, 'Kata Kata' is earthy and intriguing. I can almost see the dust rising from the drums being beat. 'Khili Re' is pretty, soft and feminine. Reminds one of 'In Lamhon Ke Daaman Mein'. I still have not listened to it fully and absorbedly. Simple love songs do not interest me. Particularly, when I have five other songs to digest yet! And 'Beera Beera', of course, a jolly ride of a song. Best thing to listen to in the morning on the way to wherever you are struggling to go in this blasting heat.

I am torn between wanting to watch the visuals (Mani Ratnam's poetry as always) and not because I am imagining (or not) the music a wholly different way. But, Abhishek Bachchan is stunningly scary and I am curious, curious, curious to see Vikram, Govinda (was that really Govinda) and Aishwarya Rai Bachchan essay the roles of these characters, these legends I have grown up imagining. The best part about the Ramayan is its fallible characters; they're Gods and they're human, so human with regrets, doubts, mistakes and imperfections. And I'm waiting to see but for now, content to listen.

Guts

The way he made us feel

There are some things in life that you take for granted: oxygen, the Pyramids of Egypt and Michael Jackson.

Symbols of culture are meant to last forever, irrespective of the fact whether they are made of marble, stone or flesh and blood. They are compasses around which we function. A comfort to us through jokes and references. It's enough to know that they are there. It’s taken for granted that they’ll live forever, larger than life.
I remember the 4 year old me watching my older friends handling a precious copy of the 'Dangerous' album. I stared back at those famous eyes on the cover, wanting to be let into this seemingly prohibited adult world of pop music, wanting to be released from nursery rhymes. And soon enough, I was.

For 8 year old me, Michael Jackson was MTV and MTV was Michael Jackson. Sure, there was Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Puff Daddy (way before he changed into P.Diddy) etc. But there was no one BIGGER than the soft-spoken, twirling dervish with the fascinating music videos. He was not only the best dancer I had ever seen, or the singer of the relentlessly catchy songs but he was also THE definition of the music video.

It was not just the combination of phenomenal talent and charming personality. He was an assurance of the fact that something extraordinary existed beyond the uncomplicated beauty of movie stars or the pure and simple talent of other musicians. Michael Jackson pushed the boundaries of our senses, leaving us awestruck. That was true entertainment-where our questions were silenced and our senses surrendered.

We borrowed our icons from generations past. Elvis was far too gone for us to call him our own. Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain and Freddie Mercury far too ghost-like to be missed. Our idols were young and full of life, Michael Jackson being the embodiment of energy.

Our generation is one that took things for granted. We were convinced of our immortality-the generation of living in the moment, of Eminem's offensive lyrics and Paris Hilton's frivolity.

Now, we come face to face with our fragile humanness. The person who seemed to live forever, who seemed to live it all, has moved beyond his physical state.

His extraordinary life and aura make his existence seem almost mythical. The controversies and stories that surrounded him earned him reactions from ridicule and disgust to sympathy for the child-man who was most probably just misunderstood.

As the music channels flood us with images of the energetic young Michael dancing like there was no tomorrow or urging us to make a change, as fans across the globe shed tears and make shrines for the King of Pop, as music legends grieve and as music lovers vow to not mourn him but celebrate the existence of such an icon amongst us, one wishes that MJ would see the love that we have for him and know how much he meant to us, the generation whom he shaped.

Was he a child prodigy teaching us 'ABC', a teen dance icon who warned us against 'Billie Jean' or the King of Pop who was one of the few who successfully used music to 'Heal the world'? Whatever hat he donned, all we now have is the burning memory of a mythical legend who rocked our world in more ways than he ever imagined.

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.

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.

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!

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.)

The Skinny on Being Thin

I want to be thin.
I've always felt that I was a skinny, uncurvy, athletic tomboy trapped in a well, chubby girl's body. I have felt this way since I was , I don't know, ten? Before that, I used to climb trees and play dodgeball and not care.
Then Hrithik Roshan happened to India. And while all my friends began to drool over him, I drooled over wanting to BE like him . (Did I not mention that I was a weird child?) I began to dance and exercise and got my hair cut really short. (It somehow made me look more er, challenged than boyish, with my curly hair and glasses. Shudder. I hate to recollect those moments of childish insanity).
As I grew out of that phase (thanks be to God that I did!), I had crushes and got crushed in the process. And somehow grew to believe that my chubbiness was the cause of such a situation. Of course, there was the matter of me not being able to bleat a word around the presence of the crush. (Class topper, public speaker, house captain-these designations were harldy daunting compared to saying hello to a boy I fancied. A root canal would've been far less painful.)
So, I did it. I exercised, lost interest in fries and rice and knocked off ten kilos. It made a great difference. Not romantically, but it did wonders to my confidence. I could be loved! I could be a worthy individual and contribute to society!
Well, then I decided to go even more further and shed some more personal gravity this summer and guess what happened. I put on 6 kilos! And my sorrow has been infinite ever since the discovery of this fact (and the painful realisation that 95% of my wardrobe does not fit me).
Like K remarked, "I wish we'd all been born with the perfect bodies we wanted" (I don't know why people who are perfect ALREADY say things like this! He is an ice cream worshipper and can eat all the Toblerones he wants but he still exercises. The dedication of the boy, I tell you. Touchwood for him.)
It's not fair that I got a backache when I went to the gym. It's not fair that pizza is banned for me BY me. It's not fair that all my idol women are thin, thin, thiiinnn (Kareena, Katrina, Shakira, etc) I don't wanna wear kurtas all the time that reach up to my knees. (Well, now I have to. All my skirts have been relegated to the back of the closet). I want to wear skinny jeans and loose clothes without looking bigger than I already am. I want to not nearly kill myself in guilt of having not exercised. I want to jump and hop and skip without people saying "ooohhh earthquake" (well, they USED TO in school. Kids can be so mean.)
Sigh.
But...
A wise person told me (okay, it was K again!) that we are all born with certain flaws and certain perfections. That I should think of all the perfect features that God has given me.
I don't know about perfect features. But I'm sure glad He's given me understanding friends. Thanks for that, God. And well, the Kingdom of Estarra.
But someday........! I hope that gravity shall NOT be on my side...!

Aftermath

That was some final.
I'm not the cricket type, to be honest, atleast I didn't used to be. But my best friend got passes to all the Chennai matches and I tagged along for two of them. And got hooked. Need I mention that a certain Mr.Dhoni was partly the cause?
Well, anyway, I had just gotten back from a jolly weekend in Pondicherry with 6 other reunited members of our school gang. (We've all known each other since we were 4. It's nice to get together and hang out normally after that awkward boys-hating-girls phase subsides) I totally crashed out with a severe headache and woke up just in time to see Dhoni begin batting. I followed the match intensely after that and I'm sure everyone will agree when I say it was a nail-biting one. Especially the last few moments-unbelievable. I don't know much of cricket history but I'm sure the last ball-last run thing was quite a shocker.
Anyway, we lost but we gave a hard fight! The win was just pure luck, Super Kings..you guys still rule!! And here's a hug for Dhoni-the dignified one!
Okay, putting my crush aside, I haven't spoken about my much-awaited 'holiday'-the first after 3 whole years!! And I'm the kind who craves to explore new territory as much as possible.
Well, we didn't explore much but I did get to see the French architecture I was yearning to feast my eyes on. So pretty, so quaint. Each 'rue' lined with those pastel buildings. And the promenade with its neat pavements and the benches. All I recall are these mental snapshots I'm trying to preserve. The best part was our hurried auto ride back to the guesthouse when it began drizzling. It was a delicious experience, hurtling through the cobbled streets and through this seemingly foreign town.
I still didn't take in enough. Maybe I'll go back sometime and absorb all that I need to. This traveller isn't satisfied.

My favourite music videos

April 24
My all time favourite videos of all time
(in no particular order)

1. Days Go By- Dirty Vigas.
Haunting. Wry. Real.

2. Desert Rose-Sting feat. Cheb Mami
Perhaps it's the pure beauty of the song. But I've always loved the idea of music videos depicting long, yearning journeys.

3.Te dejo Madrid-Shakira
It has some rather complicated allusions and illusions in its imagery. But she looks soooo cute! Plus her wardrobe is so enviable. That's enough for me.

4. Escape-Enrique Iglesias
He is so haaawwwt! Delete the Anna K bits.

5. Afterglow-INXS
Achingly beautiful. Enough said. Sigh. JD.

6. Hey Anta-Rachid Taha
Well I suppose I had to put in a RT video even though I have seen a grand total of two of his videos. But I loved what I saw of this one. It portrayed the quest, the longing for a land unknown which is what I relate to when I hear this song.

7. Right Here Right Now-Fat Boy Slim
Well I happen to have a predeliction for the quirky music of videos of Fat Boy Slim, but this one stands out cause I remember watching it through and through each and every single time I caught it on tv as a little kid. Which probably explains certain things about my personality..hmmm..

8.Objection(tango)-Shakira
This one's funny AND easy on the eye!

9.C'est La Nuit-Khaled
Another long car journey. It reminds me of a new beginning.

10.Bittersweet Symphony-The Verve
Ah another of my childhood memories...! Richard Ashcroft's long, aimless walk and attitude, the disgruntled bystanders, the whole look og the vid-I can watch it again and again and it leaves me with an arrogant swagger in my mind each time. Lol.