I'm normally very terrified of traffic cops, owing to past experiences where mild ignorances ended up being translated as trespasses of the law. However, I'm working on that. And yesterday, a rather ordinary incident changed my perception of these men in white and khaki.
The traffic was insane. I didn't mind, Khaled was singing into my ears. It was hot but I had my shades on and AC high. Cars were everywhere-left, right, back, front. Horns blaring, sun searing, confusion reigning supreme over the scene. Something was wrong with the traffic light and as usual, no one had a clue, so they were doing what we in India do best-race ahead at the expense of everyone else even if we have nowhere urgent to go to.
This traffic policeman was all by himself. In that debilitating, destablising sun. He had no Khaled or AC. All he had was this mess before him, around him. He was not sheltered by a comfortable cocoon perched high above the craziness. He was walking around, weaving around this cars, purposeful and ever-composed, as if the noise did not exist and collision was impossible. Me, I would've bolted or screamed my lungs out at these unruly inanimate personalities (Cars always seem that way to me. I cannot relate them to people controlling them from inside).
No, he was calm. With a wave of his hand and a nod of his head, he stopped one section and allowed the rest to zoom off. He didn't growl or wield his scary baton. He seemed to command the respect of me and my fellow travellers, soothing us all into patience, rare on an April afternoon in Chennai. The mess vanished, leaving a gloriously empty road ahead. Another wave of his hand, he deemed as free to pass. And so we did, slower and calmer. Our destinations could wait. It was all good.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
A Letter to Time
Dear Time,
I've been meaning to write. Well, it's kinda your fault I couldn't. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I guess I could've written rather than spent so much time thinking. What a waste of...er, you.
I hope I'm not interrupting your busy schedule. Who am I kidding? Nobody can interrupt you (hmm, idea for a sci-fi movie) but I've been meaning to well, not exactly, complain, but question your breakneck speed and the lifestyle you lead, trampling on petunias and tripping over plastic toys. Stress is a killer, you know.
Time, listen. I'm not pointing fingers or assigning blame or anything, so just relax. But I'd like you to refer back 365 days in your diary (or if that's a problem, my diary) and I'd like you to tell me if life then was fact or fiction. Is who I am or whom I speak to or what I do now the markers of reality and does it completely negate what existed before, a week or a month of in this case, a year past?
Okay, okay, don't laugh. I know you and Forever broke up long ago. Adam and Eve told me how you guys were so close.
It's not that I want to live in the past. I told you, I concluded that fourteen is so not where I want to be. I love my life. But this is what I ask, do YOU really have the right to choose who stays in my life and who doesn't? I mean, come on, I have it right here in my diary, the truest words spoken by a dearest friend. Sweet words, adorable words by an adorable person. The feelings are the same (atleast on this end), the warmth of the memories ever fresh and as delightful as freshly baked bread or newly ground coffee. But the SMSes are down in a book while the phone is long discarded. The incidents are in a sliding drawer in my head, not in front of me. The places still exist but the people to go to them with? I'm again saying its not all your fault, (your brother Distance has more to do with this but I hate talking to him) but could you be less like an IT raid and more like a gently bubbling stream? Hello, that's what they used to call you. What did the digital age do to you? Or were you always like this and it takes growing up to figure you out...?
I don't want to go back. No, siree. But I'd like a refund. I'd like there to be less photos and more real-life. I'd like my best friend to be in front of me and not in a book. He did exist and I want him to prove you, Time wrong.
Stop chuckling.
Love,
Me
Friday, March 19, 2010
Soundtracking
Everything is better with a song playing in the background.
When you're driving with your shades on (in Chennai, we call it 'coolers', machi) and listening to Moby, it's a heist movie.
When it's 'Bad' by U2, your life is changing. This is the plot point before the climax, the moment when epiphany arrives, when you, the protagonist set forth on the path that opens up in tune to this song.
When it's 'Agatha' by Rachid Taha, you see cherry blossoms and late winter smells and sights befitting a hilltop town (even when you're on Nungambakkam High Road on a desert-hot Tuesday forenoon.)
When it's 'Summer Moon' by Bob Sinclair, it's the most magical nightclub, neon pinks and purples amidst tropical flowers and all the glamour in the world even if you're dancing in the privacy of your room. Sure, it helps if you're eyes are closed. 'Forever' by Chris Brown takes that moment to the next level.
When it's 'Bittersweet Symphony' (OH when it's 'Bittersweet Symphony') by The Verve, you are the coolest dude(ette) on the planet, your walk a rockstar's, the world succumbing to your nonchalant magnetism as you stride through traffic.
When an A.R Rahman song plays, it's raining in Chennai and you're back in your first year of college when college love was something you knew would happen because the trees, the flowers, the breeze were all rooting for your heart (even though history proved otherwise).
When it's 'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls, you and your best friend are panthers, marching down the sidewalk and the whole world wants us or wants to be us.
A song on my 'Therapy' playlist (Beck's 'Timebomb' is guaranteed to pump me up. I'm a rockstar screaming into an imaginary microphone. I'm a superstar (Michael's 'The Way You Make Me Feel'-oh this one is an instant-feel good factor). I'm the star of an action flick ('Alice' by Moby or 'Deep' by Nine Inch Nails). I'm a head bopping, hip hop devotee ('Jump Around' by House of Pain). I'm a clown, belting out 'Don't Stop Me Now' by Queen at the top of my lungs.
For those of us (me?) who think life is a movie, the movie is incomplete without and made to order, perfectly fitting song playing in our heads, if not in the background. A crush becomes a love song that when listened to years later, will evoke exactly the same wave of feelings and the same smell of that season when it happened. Any song or album for that matter. 'Made in Medina' will remind me of my drawing room where I walked around while learning chemical equations during my tenth standard board exams. 'La Valse' and other Faudel songs will take my back to the stories and characters I spun from my imagination during a pure, precious time in my adolescence which I wish I could relive, when I lived my creations, allowing myself to be wrapped in a surreal world that was so real to me.
Well, I guess things haven't changed that much. Reality still deserves a background score, according to me. Thank you, Ipod. Thank you, musicians and artistes all over the world, for giving me music for moments.
When you're driving with your shades on (in Chennai, we call it 'coolers', machi) and listening to Moby, it's a heist movie.
When it's 'Bad' by U2, your life is changing. This is the plot point before the climax, the moment when epiphany arrives, when you, the protagonist set forth on the path that opens up in tune to this song.
When it's 'Agatha' by Rachid Taha, you see cherry blossoms and late winter smells and sights befitting a hilltop town (even when you're on Nungambakkam High Road on a desert-hot Tuesday forenoon.)
When it's 'Summer Moon' by Bob Sinclair, it's the most magical nightclub, neon pinks and purples amidst tropical flowers and all the glamour in the world even if you're dancing in the privacy of your room. Sure, it helps if you're eyes are closed. 'Forever' by Chris Brown takes that moment to the next level.
When it's 'Bittersweet Symphony' (OH when it's 'Bittersweet Symphony') by The Verve, you are the coolest dude(ette) on the planet, your walk a rockstar's, the world succumbing to your nonchalant magnetism as you stride through traffic.
When an A.R Rahman song plays, it's raining in Chennai and you're back in your first year of college when college love was something you knew would happen because the trees, the flowers, the breeze were all rooting for your heart (even though history proved otherwise).
When it's 'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls, you and your best friend are panthers, marching down the sidewalk and the whole world wants us or wants to be us.
A song on my 'Therapy' playlist (Beck's 'Timebomb' is guaranteed to pump me up. I'm a rockstar screaming into an imaginary microphone. I'm a superstar (Michael's 'The Way You Make Me Feel'-oh this one is an instant-feel good factor). I'm the star of an action flick ('Alice' by Moby or 'Deep' by Nine Inch Nails). I'm a head bopping, hip hop devotee ('Jump Around' by House of Pain). I'm a clown, belting out 'Don't Stop Me Now' by Queen at the top of my lungs.
For those of us (me?) who think life is a movie, the movie is incomplete without and made to order, perfectly fitting song playing in our heads, if not in the background. A crush becomes a love song that when listened to years later, will evoke exactly the same wave of feelings and the same smell of that season when it happened. Any song or album for that matter. 'Made in Medina' will remind me of my drawing room where I walked around while learning chemical equations during my tenth standard board exams. 'La Valse' and other Faudel songs will take my back to the stories and characters I spun from my imagination during a pure, precious time in my adolescence which I wish I could relive, when I lived my creations, allowing myself to be wrapped in a surreal world that was so real to me.
Well, I guess things haven't changed that much. Reality still deserves a background score, according to me. Thank you, Ipod. Thank you, musicians and artistes all over the world, for giving me music for moments.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Those other three words
It's really easy to love, trust me. Easy to say it also (well, most times). But to like someone? To actually genuinely like them? Not so easy and not so common.
A very good friend of mine I'll call MC (one of the select few people I really like) and I were talking about this phenomenon. That led me to think about the differences between love and liking.
I'm a person who's all about love, by the way. I send forth hugs and love through text messages, emails and in person. Friends, family, teachers and family of friends. Love comes easy, thanks to my inheritance of loving parents and a very demonstrative mother who shares love and kindness to all. I'm not as generous as her, being an inhabitant of a (porous) bubble. But I get it when people say "love makes the world go around".
I also get it when people say "love is blind". Because it is. That's when you ignore the flaws, you glorify the specks of brilliance. And when a cloud shows up, you get mad. You feel cheated.
But when you like someone, you know the flaws. You appreciate the talents, the charm and the goodness, but in a detached, objective way. There's no gush of love and no rush of sentiment. This person's good and you want to get to know them better, want them in your life.
When I mean love, I mean love in all its forms-affection for a newfound friend that ebbs and flows, a crush, a romantic relationship...any relationship.
Like begins to coexist with love. But like can't fluctuate. Like is steady, anchoring. Like is the solid cake base of the chocolate souffle. Love is immediate but like grows. It doesn't bubble up but it builds. Love's the flamboyant one while like is quieter, deeper and creeps up on you when you least expect it.
And that's the stuff great friendship is made of. Here's to you, MC.
A very good friend of mine I'll call MC (one of the select few people I really like) and I were talking about this phenomenon. That led me to think about the differences between love and liking.
I'm a person who's all about love, by the way. I send forth hugs and love through text messages, emails and in person. Friends, family, teachers and family of friends. Love comes easy, thanks to my inheritance of loving parents and a very demonstrative mother who shares love and kindness to all. I'm not as generous as her, being an inhabitant of a (porous) bubble. But I get it when people say "love makes the world go around".
I also get it when people say "love is blind". Because it is. That's when you ignore the flaws, you glorify the specks of brilliance. And when a cloud shows up, you get mad. You feel cheated.
But when you like someone, you know the flaws. You appreciate the talents, the charm and the goodness, but in a detached, objective way. There's no gush of love and no rush of sentiment. This person's good and you want to get to know them better, want them in your life.
When I mean love, I mean love in all its forms-affection for a newfound friend that ebbs and flows, a crush, a romantic relationship...any relationship.
Like begins to coexist with love. But like can't fluctuate. Like is steady, anchoring. Like is the solid cake base of the chocolate souffle. Love is immediate but like grows. It doesn't bubble up but it builds. Love's the flamboyant one while like is quieter, deeper and creeps up on you when you least expect it.
And that's the stuff great friendship is made of. Here's to you, MC.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Happy Birthday
Today is a special person's birthday, one of the few people left at my age (like me) who do get excited about 'trivial' things like birthdays. One of the few special people who made sure to make mine extra special even though:
they ended up making themselves sick for hyping over my 21st birthday dress,
they ensured my 19th birthday went cake-free by clubbing it with an emotional someone else's, and they helped me organise my 20th with A, B and C lists of guests and eventually leaving out a lot of nice people I feel ashamed to mention my 2oth party to.
Sigh, good times.
Well, here's to that special person, more a princess than a prince because he is pampered and loved as much as one. Here's to the birthday boy who's living it up all the way across the world and still living life as large as can be. Winning hearts the world over (ha ha I can actually say that now) and stressing about party organisation the same old way. The same way he still thinks that a crisp white shirt is the key to instant glam (true) and the same way he thinks he's Blair Waldorf (false).
Always invoking the same hilarity in me, whether he's face to face or an image on a computer screen. Making me believe in 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. Being aware of my life's little events and mentally jotting them down so as to tell him later. Taking photos of my wardrobe selections to prove that I'm not as nerdy as he thinks. Mentally arguing with him in my head when I can hear him berating me for not being more adventurous in life. Mentally slapping him for calling my love life a Thar Desert. Making me understand the meaning of 'I'll be there for you' where 'there' is metaphysical and yet as vital.
Calling me a hundred times to discuss the Oscars and being the only one I know who gets as excited as I do about the glam parade and the debate over deserving actors versus eye candy. Calling me at 4 am from London and telling others I'm his 4 am friend, whether I'm awake or not. Calling again the next day at 2 am, hoping I'm awake and us then having a two hour conversation, officially anointing me The 4 Am Friend. Being such wholesome best friend (momentarily erase the ego clashes), the perfect best friend-one that you can show off as aesthetically appealing and at the same time surprisingly possessing durability and top quality. Making me jealous of all the numerous people he'll charm all over the world despite him being ever so desi and fussy and regimented, what with his daily routines that are so so so secretive. Adding spice to my life, whether actually or vicariously.
Getting my heart to get a taste of world travel because right now an important part of it is residing in London.
Haha! Gotcha! You can't get cornier than that. Have an awesome birthday.
they ended up making themselves sick for hyping over my 21st birthday dress,
they ensured my 19th birthday went cake-free by clubbing it with an emotional someone else's, and they helped me organise my 20th with A, B and C lists of guests and eventually leaving out a lot of nice people I feel ashamed to mention my 2oth party to.
Sigh, good times.
Well, here's to that special person, more a princess than a prince because he is pampered and loved as much as one. Here's to the birthday boy who's living it up all the way across the world and still living life as large as can be. Winning hearts the world over (ha ha I can actually say that now) and stressing about party organisation the same old way. The same way he still thinks that a crisp white shirt is the key to instant glam (true) and the same way he thinks he's Blair Waldorf (false).
Always invoking the same hilarity in me, whether he's face to face or an image on a computer screen. Making me believe in 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'. Being aware of my life's little events and mentally jotting them down so as to tell him later. Taking photos of my wardrobe selections to prove that I'm not as nerdy as he thinks. Mentally arguing with him in my head when I can hear him berating me for not being more adventurous in life. Mentally slapping him for calling my love life a Thar Desert. Making me understand the meaning of 'I'll be there for you' where 'there' is metaphysical and yet as vital.
Calling me a hundred times to discuss the Oscars and being the only one I know who gets as excited as I do about the glam parade and the debate over deserving actors versus eye candy. Calling me at 4 am from London and telling others I'm his 4 am friend, whether I'm awake or not. Calling again the next day at 2 am, hoping I'm awake and us then having a two hour conversation, officially anointing me The 4 Am Friend. Being such wholesome best friend (momentarily erase the ego clashes), the perfect best friend-one that you can show off as aesthetically appealing and at the same time surprisingly possessing durability and top quality. Making me jealous of all the numerous people he'll charm all over the world despite him being ever so desi and fussy and regimented, what with his daily routines that are so so so secretive. Adding spice to my life, whether actually or vicariously.
Getting my heart to get a taste of world travel because right now an important part of it is residing in London.
Haha! Gotcha! You can't get cornier than that. Have an awesome birthday.
Timothy where you been
I had a very profound and revolutionary insight into the concept of nationalism last night. I visualised myself being the only person to go into my HOD's office and finally 'do more than just attend class and beg to be let off early...take initiative!" I would passionately deplore the current state of international relations. Countries falling apart for want of nations, Indian states breaking down further for communities. There should be a cry to the creation of more multi-ethnic, multi-religious societies, with me as a poster girl. And I knew exactly what the solution was. I would save the world.
Of course, all this happened during REM. So, naturally, I remember nothing today.
I am hovering mid air, in the midst of a lot of words such as 'collective defense' and 'national interest'. A lot of other peoples' opinions on things I am just hearing about. The first step is to know what happened before digesting someone's articulate (read: unintelligible) take on the possibility of mutually assured destruction. Somehow, that's not the order in which we're doing this. And I'm feeling a little over-informed while at the same time clueless. Way to save the world.
So, the song of the moment is Timbaland's 'Timothy where you been'. For its pace. For Timbaland's rhythmic vocals. For its nonchalant vibe. For floating over me like everything else.
Of course, all this happened during REM. So, naturally, I remember nothing today.
I am hovering mid air, in the midst of a lot of words such as 'collective defense' and 'national interest'. A lot of other peoples' opinions on things I am just hearing about. The first step is to know what happened before digesting someone's articulate (read: unintelligible) take on the possibility of mutually assured destruction. Somehow, that's not the order in which we're doing this. And I'm feeling a little over-informed while at the same time clueless. Way to save the world.
So, the song of the moment is Timbaland's 'Timothy where you been'. For its pace. For Timbaland's rhythmic vocals. For its nonchalant vibe. For floating over me like everything else.
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