~the dream theatre~

Lovers on the grass

2011-12-04T15:26:00.000-05:00

They lie on the grass, carefree. Carefree in a very worldly way. She has her bunch of papers open in front of her, he has his thick fat book. Their own little study nook. A corner of the University quad. A stolen hour in between rushing for class. A skipped lunch. In exchange for silence. Just an easy hour of pouring through work, fingers entwined sometimes, feet nudging each others' sometimes. A shared sip of water and a shared glance.

Lovers, they lie on the grass. Each immersed in their own love story.

Doubts and tears

2011-08-12T09:17:00.000-04:00

She woke up with a start. Last night came rushing back. It wasn't like her.. these weird sleep cycles. This erratic, unexplainable wave of affections she slept with and woke up with. It wasn't like her anymore.

She couldn't believe she was back there. Where she ended the night in doubts and woke up to tears. She couldn't believe that she had left the smiles that her life had brought with her behind.

Black Heart

2011-02-04T05:56:00.003-05:00

Why do you have a black heart my love
What deed so tainted, words so impure
what joy rebuffed, what smile upturned

you always believed
that smiles are an anomaly
that the world is a bitch
that people are selfish

you always accepted that
that was your truth
imbeded in your psyche
fashioning all your moves

you revelled in the pain
Basked in darkness
enjoyed the screw drilling in
relentlessly, ruthlessly

what little action was it
that turned out to kill it all for you
why do you have a black heart my love
and how am i supposed to love it

Life on a soundtrack

2010-12-12T21:31:00.002-05:00

If I had the option to rewind my life to certain times and places and replay it with a soundtrack, the first thing I would rewind to would be lying on sidewalk of a national highway.. just lying on the sidewalk.. hand in your hand.. and looking up at the stars, while the world passed us by.

And obviously, the track that would play to that would be

Snow Patrols - Chasing Cars.. If I just lay here, If I just lay here, would you lie here with me? And just forget the world.

We are all victims of life's speed

2010-12-06T01:48:00.000-05:00

Some of us sit around trying to define the depth of a relationship, some flirt with definitions and some are waiting. Waiting for the relationship as you know it to start.

We each course at a different speed through these confusing relationships, but what speed is it that we want? Why are we always dissatisfied at the pace we are at? The fast want to go slower, the slow, faster. The one's at the red light just want the damn speed to pick up and the traffic to start.

I feel like I am on slow mode right now. Waiting for the full throttle to burst. For the rush of speed to take my life by surprise. I am waiting for my life to start. I am done with laying the foundation for my life ahead, hell maybe I am not done with it, but i am done doing it, you know.

I just want life to start. I am tired of waiting for things to fall in place.. just so I know where my place is in this Universe. I know a few basic facts, and I am ready to take on the world on them. No more brick laying for me. Bring on the cars, and let's crank up the gears.

It's irritating when you realize that you have no control over your life right? very irritating. But what can we do, we are all victim's. Of the race that Life has set up. Some like it fast, they get it fast, some don't, so they switch to double lane driving. Now is now right?

End of the era of selfishness

2010-10-22T04:27:00.000-04:00

In so many ways you show me what I mean

In so many ways, you show me my place.

It just makes it easier for me..

Easier to understand that you are not the man for me.

You are so not worth it.

When pants hang low, pull

2010-04-14T04:20:00.001-04:00

What do you do when you see a guy with his trousers hitched so low on his non-existent hips, that one tug would have them on the floor? You tug. That's what you do. Or you do what I did. Tug mentally, smile impishly. And find the trousers on the floor. :)

Last weekend found me with two friends walking down this scenic beach-front road in Mumbai. One just-turned-20 guy was at a corner shop buying what guys buy from corner shops normally. And his pants were riding low, way low on his skinny body. Low enough to display a thick line of muddy blue underwear on brown skin. Yes, that low.

Low enough to make me want to pull it down just so I could tell him,

" There. Mission accomplished."

And while I looked at him straight in the face and contemplated the mental tug, the pants slid off his hips. Slid. Right. Off. His. Hips.

The boy caught them mid-slide, almost near his knees and looked accusingly at me. I was a safe 50 yards away from him. My friend and I were laughing quite unabashedly at him and he then had the good sense to look sheepish.

We continued walking, not letting the laughter break our stride, but I couldn't resist a 'pallat moment'. I looked back, and his pants were again riding dangerously low.

Sigh. This generation I tell you!!!

Finding my fit.

2010-04-13T06:10:00.000-04:00

One chapter closes in my life. Another starts in a few days. I take over the residual wide-eyed excitement I brought to my first chapter with me.

But I also take renewed hope. Hope that this time, I will fit. Although deep in my heart, I know I am not the fitting types. I never fit in through my college years, or through school. I did not fit in in my completely firang department in University. Not because I was an Indian, but at that time, because I chose to not fit in.

Maybe I need to stop trying to fit? Create my space and be comfortable in that? Hmm.

Space. It's a weird concept. Space was my personal bubble when I was in the US. Here, in India, it is invaded constantly. The woman who uses my thigh as a support to get up in the train, the man who places a fist on my shoulder to push me ahead in the bus, the colleague who peers over my shoulder to look into my monitor, to get a glimpse of whoever I am shooting an email off to.

Space. It exists where it shouldn't too. The one-time best friend who I don't hug anymore. The awkwardness in reaching out and grasping the hand of someone who has been making me feel much more comfortable in the last few days. The weirdness of not being able to sleep off mid-conversation anymore. The by-chanceness of missing out on different timezones.

What's a fit between all these? When I make my exotic dinner-for-one? Or when I bite into my mother's shoulder, over her giggles and protests? Yes. These are my fits.

Vicious

2010-04-03T02:54:00.000-04:00

Her laptop pings in the background while she furiously types away at a word doc. She looks up, a bit disoriented at the ping, identifies the source as a new mail in gmail, and ignores it.

He doesnt deserve my time. He does not deserve my patience, or my worry.

She goes back to her word doc. Clicks and clacks at the keyboard for a while and then grunts in disappointment. She is distracted. Her words dont come back to her, that fine silvery line of thought in her head has faded to the white blankness of nothing. The shimmer of words, pulsing with meaning, erased from their emboss on the white.

She sighs, and moves the mouse over to her inbox, angry with herself for having no discipline. Of course the email is from him. She does not need to check to know that. But it's not meant for her. It's meant for another, come to her because she was subscribed in the list.

More words, more charm, more sentences that clearly say I'm available now, do you want to hook up? Or maybe that's just her imagination. What it really says is, I'm available now, let's talk. Get to know each other.

The later was more scary than the former. Though the former gave her chills too. She had always seen that charm directed only to her, meant only for her. Just her's. No sharing.

She compose a new email, copied his message to her in the body and in the subject wrote three simple words, I hate you and then clicks on the send button.

She understand the heights of viciousness she has reached today. But she also understands that there are levels higher up when she gets no response to her email.

He has moved on, she, on the other hand, hasn't.

Mini-Meals - an ode to our lives in champaign

2010-03-12T03:08:00.000-05:00

I rush through the day, run for the bus
late for class, quickly take notes

No time for a bit of chat later yaar
I’ll have more research done on this later, sir

         Bite sized love, bite sized lives
         A little hurried hi, a little hurried good bye
         Got to finish this life, get out of U of I
         Masters is enough man, there’s a life outside

Two jobs to fund one life, two jobs to fund the calls to home
but there’s always money for the shots and beer

Nostalgic when we hear a song, miracle, we know the words all
festivals we did not celebrate have meanings now

         Bite sized love, bite sized lives
         A little hurried hi, a little hurried good bye
         Got to finish this life, get out of U of I
         Damn this PhD man, there’s a life outside

Second hand Honda, the pool of our savings
time to live alone now, dude sharing isn’t working

Profs are over-rated, so is research
that’s when I turn to singing, that’s when I turn to writing

                Bite sized love, bite sized lives
                a little hurried hi, a little hurried goodbye
                Got to move aheada this life, get out of U of I
                Fuck Post doc man, there’s a life outside

                Bite sized love, bite sized lives
                a little hurried hi, a little hurried goodbye
                Got to finish this life, get out of U of I
                what the hell is happening, there’s a life outside

Bite sized love, bite sized lives
a little hurried hi, a little hurried goodbye..

Can you sing a song to me?

2010-02-22T05:23:00.002-05:00

You sing for the entire world, but I can't hear it. You play with the entire world, but I'm not a part of it.

Can you sing that song again, where you chased my afterglow. You might not be the best singer alive, but you are after all, my singer. My only singer.

Can you hold me in your arms again, and wait for me to drift off to sleep.

Distance, is definitely not an easy adversary to have, when distance, is all you have.

Ramblings

2010-01-13T02:58:00.000-05:00

I just realized that I haven't done many things 'new yearsy'. Din't think of anything special that I would do this year, did not do anything spectacularly special meant only for the new year and did not wish a whole lot of people too.

It's almost like the onslaught of the new year sped by me, and I realized 13 days later. When I was writing a report in office dated 13th Januray, 2010. 2010!!! Almost sounds like futuristic generation!

But then I just saw something. This last year was sneakily good for me. Balance. That's what the year was about. I finally managed to bring my weight to a balance. After getting desperate about it, deciding to starve myself, over-feed myself, over-exercise myself and over-diet myself, I finally found that balance that suited my body. That did not make me do any of the above. And helped me lose all my excess fat. (Almost all). I am 15 kgs lighter that this time last year. And I think that has been one of my biggest achievement ever.

The year before last, I met some of the most wonderful people in my life. But it is last year that I understood their significance. What they meant to me. What was their importance and what priorities needed to be set to make myself happy. I found my happiness. I made settlements with my expectations, understood what was not a fairytale and what was reality. And loved my life for it.

But while I have done these, I still havent been able to lay the ghost of a friendship past to rest. ABDC still bothers me. The friendship I shared with him bothers me. I don't know what it is about us, but something does. I understood my issues with Pilot. I know what needs to be done and what will just happen over the course of time. Balance.

I fixed up a job, got my brother married off. Hopefully, happily. I made new connections with a new family. Understood their quirks and whims. What makes them a different family.

I was faced with a situation where I lost my cool the way I never have before. I shivered with anger, and my ears turned red hot. Literally. I screamed my throat out. My mind shut down because of over-heating and squeezed out moisture in the form of unwitting tears. Abuses ran through my brains while my mouth tried to hold them down. There. I have a resolution. Never to be that angry again. When literally I have no control over any of my senses.

I took on amazing amounts of responsibilities, once back in India. Quite successfully, if not gracefully, met up to all of them. And then ended the year, trying to bake, hoping to cook, but not succeeding at either.

I am literally smiling while I write these last few lines now. Be cause I realize what writing this post has done. It's given my new year a direction. >> Avoid anger.>> Fulfil responsibilities with grace>> Bake more, cook more >> Travel more >> Lose 4 kgs more.

Not in that order.

P.S. I realize that this post is quite shabbily written, but it has literally followed my thoughts. And liberated me quite a lot. So, as long as it helps me, its all good right? :)

New year, new woes

2010-01-07T03:55:00.001-05:00

I have had posts bubbling inside me from about a week now. When I stopped writing a year or so back, I couldn’t figure out why. I thought it was the pressure to please the readers, to soothe my ego etc which drove me away. I left it at that.

Then I was leaving everything that had become familiar to me in the last two years, and I found myself opening up the blog again. Once back, I got busy. Wedding planning, wedding attending. Etc.

Once all the hoopla settled down, I took up a job. Actually I quite foolishly took up the first job I was offered. I started traveling by trains again, rushing for time, eating from packed lunches, dealing with people’s temperaments, whims and fancies. I was touching ground again. And this time, I was touching Mumbai soil.

And lo and behold, my urge to write resurfaced. This brings me to the conclusion that I write when I need the outlet. I don’t write when I don’t. I was blissfully happy in the last one year... so I stopped writing. I was too involved in my happiness. I was writing short stories to fulfill my itch, but blogging, Nah. Posts just evaded me. Not that I even tried running after them. Thankfully, I had that good sense. When the feeling to blog stopped, I dint push it. No force, no have-puff-to-puff-do-puff-it.

Now I sit in my ad agency office, senior copywriter by post, but in a government office type desk with chair. Old almost defunct PC to work with (seriously, every key has to be stepped on, hard, to type the letter) and horrible stuck up mouse. Someone higher up who thinks banning gmail and facebook is the right way to go (really, when I work for social media and email marketing!!) and a feeling of being boxed-in in the very fourth day of work. Oh and did I include working 10ish hours daily? No, its not a call centre, it’s an ad agency.

I am writing stuff which I don’t believe in. Which is quite disheartening. I erase this stuff from my life when it enters, and apparently I am filling others lives up with this shit. Sigh.

And yet, I have made a promise to myself that I will stick out the initial 6 months. Or at least 3. I’ve already bought a first class pass for three months. Might as well run it out right?

what is reality, really?

2009-10-12T04:10:00.000-04:00

It is about a year and three months since this day.

I don't know when it happened, but my surreal world became my reality. The U.S.of A became my reality in these last two and something years.

I loved everything I knew I would love, and some more. I hated almost everything I knew I would hate, and some more. I faced everything I knew I would face, and so much more. If before coming here, I thought I knew all the emotions and feelings I was capable of, now I know that that spectrum is impossible to define. If before I thought I was worldly-wise, now, I know what the word actually means.

But, come the end of my studying, my original plans loomed in front of my eyes. Taunting me. Asking me if I still wanted to go back to India. Firmly I said yes. In a few weeks the firmness kind of disappeared. I found myself floundering for a hold here. Then, the universe reminded me of what I had always believed would be my happiness.

Home. India. Mumbai.

And now, Two years and two months and twenty days later, I find myself returning back home. To India. To Mumbai.

And now, this, right now, feels surreal. Leaving my life here and heading back. Goinf back to where I was two years ago. But going back as a different person. Because boy, I sure have changed. I know what worldly-wise means now!! :D

is back.

2009-09-30T21:20:00.002-04:00

It's been a while. And somethings have changed around here. Some old posts have "disappeared".

I figured, since I was starting afresh after 6-ish months, I might as well remove the traces of what embittered me enough to stop blogging. And not talk about it ever again. So this is the last you will see me mention of the dark days from last august to the much brighter days now.

I toyed setting up a new blog. Hell, I even started one. Two. Or maybe three. But came back here. Cause these are my roots right? If I do ever shift, I will forward the link from here. So I feel like I just packed my roots to a new place and did not uproot totally and set somewhere else.

I've been craving to write. Itching even. I formed posts in my head during this hiatus, and then pretended like I wrote it with the imaginary pen in my head and then dismissed the thoughts. And lost those posts forever. I know, sad right?

What's new in my life will follow in posts to come. Slowly. But the one major change around here is gonna be this - I love my readers. Seriously, I do. But for my well being, and world peace and such, I am going to write like no one is reading. I am not going to depend on readers, I am not going to count on them or write for them. I will just write. For myself.

Because writing is second nature to me. And while in the past too I wrote with reckless abandon, this time around, I bared my soul a bit too much. And sometimes, the universe loves the game of Soul Football. So, I will write keeping my well being in mind. Everyone else will just have to fend for themselves.

Can we??

2008-11-03T20:34:00.002-05:00

Can I wrap you up in a song and make you the song itself?
Can you hum to me, that song?

Can I look behind one more time, because I am sure you will be there?
Can you see the sunshine within me?

Can I scold you to my heart's content, because you know I am just doing it to irritate you?
Can you keep making that frustrated face everytime I say something completely irrational?

Can I whine to my heart's content to you, because I know you wont judge me for it?
Can you keep trying to fill that void that has just opened up inside me? Some day it will fill..

Can I keep shopping for those little things that you don't even know you will need around your house?
Can you keep surprising me in all those little and small things that you do?

Can we keep forming these little traditions of ours? These little things which is always what you do, and these other things that are always my doing...

Demons, the real ones..

2008-10-26T22:07:00.000-04:00

*The post before the last one*

Normally her demons arose in the night. They turned the normally flippant, brilliantly blunt and straight answering girl into a blubbering, confused and sobbing girl. The world knew her as a very arrogant and collected person. She bounced back from all her problems and issues didn't she?
She did, but at night, when she was alone, sitting in the dumpyard behind her apartment complex, she wasn't all that brave. She could not even introduce herself to her demons. That part of her which she was unaware about. Which she had not been introduced to. Which she had not met. That part of her she dint know about.

She needed to see a shrink. She was sure of that. There could not be two parts to her. A demon that made her eyes tear up randomly. That made her begin every night with hours of crying. The part of her she knew, would not, could not let the world see her crying. Would not accept to the world that it was her weakness, her sign of indignity. Her fall.

Except, now, that demon had become so powerful that it came out in the day too. When she was around people, in front of them. She tried to supress it with silences, with blankly staring away into nothingness just so that her eyes would not well up with tears. Because one roll down her cheeks was never enough, it was a saga. Sometimes it would start in the class, sometimes while having dinner, sometimes while doing her laundry and sometimes when she was stretched out on the couch witnessing a happy moment. And she was slipping away into being powerless.

Her skin was behaving like it was over-exposed, her eyes looked like she was drugged. Her body frequently burned up to a fever. Was everything alwasy never good enough? or was it just that she wanted too damn much. That there were two parts to her, the demon and her. Together, they wanted a lot. Needed a lot. Expected to get a lot.

Which is why she started on back-to-back episodes of Scrubs.

alone

2008-10-23T02:34:00.001-04:00

"Go," he said. And sent her off. All alone to face her demons.

A quick unfinished story

2008-10-20T03:48:00.003-04:00

Friends Forever. Turned into blossoming infatuation. Forever couple. Is it love? Maybe not yet..

Distance, misunderstandings, arguments, fights and lies. A couple broken before love could happen. Friends again. Happy for each other's happiness.

He falls for someone again. She is happy with someone else again. They are happy in their own worlds. What could be, is a question and a doubt that will forever remain unexplored. A chance meeting, a stolen kiss. Nothing more, back to their happy worlds.

Kids turn into adults. Turn of maturity. Time for permanency. He is thinking of marrying his girl, she is still looking for love, although just happy with someone else.

A sudden encounter. It tears her up that his intense feelings for her are now for someone else. It tears him up that she was never this happy with him. A stolen night.

A few days, stolen from the world. Guilt. Knowledge that this could work. All it needs is effort.

But its too late now. Back into the worlds they built. The doubt, the question will forever remain incomplete. Because just a few days are not enough. They were forever friends. The forever part had magnanimous implications. Torn souls, forced into being friends.

Not happy as more than that, unhappy at less than that.

Striving to love myself..

2008-10-12T13:10:00.003-04:00

The first time I was told I was ugly, it was my 11th birthday. I had worn what my mother had picked out for me, checkered shorts with a silver belt, and a black tee-shirt with something silver on it- I was quite skinny that time. You know you dress well in school for your birthdays, distribute chocolates? When I was doing that, my so-called brother Amey, pulled me closer and said

"I know I shouldn't say this to you today, but you look ugly. Why are you wearing that?"

I never wore that outfit again. I steadily gained weight that year on. Sometime when I was 13, I had my first crush, and the guy told me I was beautiful, and I did not believe him.

When I was 16, I was in a theatre group. I was one of the youngest there. The two other sixteen year olds were reed thin, I was, by now, plump and chubby, as everyone would call me. Obviously I never got the main part, until in the end I was given one as charity. One guy who was dating one of the reed thin girls, once remarked out loud,

"Girls just look so breath-takingly beautiful with wet hair."

The three of us had just come in from the pouring rain. We all had wet hair. We all looked at each other at this statement. The guy smiled and then after a pause said,

"But not you Pragni, your hair is horrible, how can you ever look good"

I have been out with models, a dangerous looking guy, an ok-looking guy, a gayish-looking guy, intelligent guys, rich guys, one player or casanova and one semi-celebrity too. But I have never believed myself to be worth them, physically or looks-wise.

I hate it, and I hate admitting it, but everytime one of the guys here tell me I look beautiful, I pause for a moment. That pause is to convince myself that even if I don't think so, maybe they do. They are not saying it to please me. They are not saying it out of any obligation. They mean it.

Till a really long time, everytime someone told me I looked good, my instant reaction would be "yea, right" or "Stop kidding around?", until one day, R got really angry with me and told me that he wouldn't say it if he dint mean it, and I d better start believing him or saying it out right that I did not trust him.

I said, "I don't know what other reaction to give!"

Said he, "Try thank you. It normally works."

I did not believe my thank you's after that for a long time too.

It's just recently that I have admitted to my being very very conscious about my body. About my self image. And admitted it in front of friends and now publicly. I know this is not going to liberate me. But maybe, somewhere along the line, I will be re-introduced to my self-esteem. Ironically, I do not lack in the department of self-confidence. Funny how I have made that thin line so thick for me.

P.S - Last two days of the pills. I promise this confess all mode will stop then and so will the sappiness.

Those three essential things for any kind of feelings..

2008-10-11T11:43:00.005-04:00

"I can fall in love with someone because of their intelligence, its one of the three things that can get to me.."
"What are the other three things?"
Pause
I knew there were three things.. I just hadn't really put my mind to it to think what those three things were, you know? And this was not a person who would let me change the topic at this point.
"aah.. this might sound shallow but pampering maybe? I guess if someone pampers me a lot, I could fall in love with them." I have had cousins who have pampered me crazy, and I have adored them. So I guess, it could work...
"And the way a person treats other people around him. The respect you give other people, the distance you maintain, the way you talk to them." Now that was the correct one of the two. I was sure.

But pampering? I thought about it all night. Can I really fall for someone because they'd pamper me crazy? And then some instances came to my mind. Pilot insisted on me taking the diamond ring he got me. I refused, he actually went up to the sea to throw it. I took it. I love the ring, I had designed it. But I din't fall in love with him.

Pilot always always pampered me. If I saw a toy I liked, it would be sent to my place in a few days, twice in a week, fresh flowers would be delivered to my place, fancy dinners, and coffee every other night. I did not fall in love with him. And then he started hanging out with my parents. He respected them, took advice from them, revered them. That's when I even started thinking of him as someone who I might be able to be with. He wanted to them help out with the summercamp kids. He was beautiful with them, strict, scary but lovable. That's when I realized that he is worth a lot more. If things would have continued a bit, who knows I might have been in love with him (if love is possible). But end of story, I did not fall in love with him. Inspite of all the pampering, and inspite of all the respect I saw him give others.

I think the respect he gave others, made me respect him. And respect is very important for me. To give and receive. But it did not induce love. And pampering just made me feel nice, but I always knew it was a materialistic nice. And I guess seeing me feel nice, he felt nice. He never did it to make me fall in love with him. I hope.

Since intelligence is a must in people around me, I should have been in love with Dhum, Pinki, Petrovski, Veeru, Jats and looking at intelligence from a different angle, Pilot too.

But I am not. Which effectively negates my dialogue above. I cannot fall in love with anyone just because they are intelligent, or they pamper me, or that they are respectful. I can just be a little pleased with them for it.

I guess love just happens right? Without a reason?

**
So since you are reading this, I shall retract my statement above that I made to you. And rephrase it. A bit. "I don't know how to fall in love with someone. I don't know what can make me fall in love with someone. I don't even think I can define love. But yes, these three things that I listed? They make me think highly of a person. They make me realize that the person cares, for himself (intelligence), me (pampering) and others (respect). Which matters. I guess."

Not a child, not an adult

2008-10-08T14:52:00.003-04:00

I have been often told I think too much and too far. This post is a result of that.

Browsing through youtube videos I came across the videos of Chote Ustaad, a singing contest between kids. I started with the grand finale episode, two really pretty girls singing beautifully. One had the most beautiful, sweet and melodious voice.
The other had the most grounded, husky and fabulous voice.

One had springy curls all over her face, a clear face and expressive eyes.
The other had straight luxurious hair that fell in a cascade around her face, sparkling eyes and an attitude to match.

Both had the public fawning at their feet. Both are less than 13 years old.

What happened to have pimply faces, an unsure attitude, that awkward age when you look your worst for that certain time and not knowing what you want to do with your life because you are not even 13!!

I am scared. Scared for my children when I have them. Because either they will be one of these talented children, or one of the not talented ones. If they are like these, they will be under this constant pressure, which I am sure these children are under. They will have their life decided for them, no matter what it is that they want to do, how it is that they want to live.

If they are not, they will grow up watching these talent shows, wonder what their talent is, why they don't have a voice like that, or a flexible body like this, or a figure like that one. Or they might know someone who is talented like that, and feel inferior to them.

The summercamp where I teach dance, constantly has parents coming up to me asking me to hone the dancing skills of their child because they think that the kid has the ability to "enter and win boogie woogie". Or I have even had one come and boast to me about how her daughter has such an amazing face that she has already featured in 12 ads and won around 2 lakh rupees. The girl was 9 years old.

I have had mothers come and tell me "Look, look at my child dance. She goes to Shaimak Davar's classes every day to train" and when the girl dances, she swings her hips, but not to the rhythm, she looks ahead with her eyes all small and scrunched up, but blankly, and she says, "my favorite dancer is Isha Koppikar and Sameera Reddy".

I once choreographed a dance for one student for a talent contest in her school, and she was pretty good. We did on the song Remix, which is based on school life. We hunted all the markets to get an awesome costume for her, a black corset, with a leather jacket, a leather skirt with knee high boots and a school tie. When we reached the hall, she pointed out her rival to me. She was a girl dressed in a yellow bustier with chiffon strips for sleeves, and a chiffon transparent harem pants and her hair all curled up and heavy orange eye make up and gloss. I had not let my student put anything more than a dusting of powder on her face to block sweat.
The girl danced on "Saaki saaki, aa paas reh na jaye koi khwahish baaki", while my student danced on "Na koi tension lena, nahi koi darr ke jeena.."

Ofcourse, the Saaki girl won. My student was heart-broken. And she asked me, "next time can I dance on an item number too?"

I fear the day my child will ask me that. When my child will think that to be liked, she or he needs to expose, be extra-ordinary at something, be supremely talented or have an attitude.

Chemical Imbalance

2008-10-06T21:53:00.004-04:00

I wish I could explain to you what it feels like when you are actually in a happy mood, but you can feel something clicking somewhere in your brain which brings on a bad mood.

I wish I could explain to you the anguish that tears through your mind, and then the other side, where you know why its happening, you know you really are not that sad, but just the fact that you are not that in reality, but are feeling so right now is a pathetic thing.

I wish I could explain to you how horrible it feels, how alienating.. how much you would just love to give in and cry, because although you know that that wont solve the problem, it sure as hell seems like what you should be doing.

I wish I could explain to you how much it hurts to cry alone, or cry but let no one notice it. Because logically it makes sense to do not cry in front of anyone since its an induced state, but in the mental state you are in.. that's the polar opposite of what you need.

I wish I could explain to you how suddenly you want so much more, you need so much more, you emote so much more, you expect so much more. It's like you just CANT bottle up these things which you know have the capacaity to hurt you.. so are best not wanted, needed, expected, loved.

I wish I could explain to you how much imbalanced you feel, how it completely puts you off your foot, how helpless you feel and how much you need that support from everyone who matters.

I wish I could explain to you how it is so so necessary that in this state you give me every little thing you assumed was given, you say all those things that can assumedly be left unsaid, you give and show every ounce of what you are feeling.

I wish I could explain to you how much you matter at this stage. And I wish you would realize that more than one person, I need all of you. That I am literally dependent on you. Really really do.

I wish i could explain all this to myself. And coach myself enough to get over this.. to learn and to master this too, so I can stop depending on your calm, your faith, your love, your company and you. All of you.

Bonfire tonite

2008-09-27T18:05:00.003-04:00

Am off to a bonfire in a farm tonight. Like a proper bonfire, in a proper farm, with hayrides, and hot dogs ( :( ) and beer. And wine and chocolates, because that's what I am taking for the host. We are taking, I mean.

But before the bonfire, I have a ordeal. A bike which actually screws my case. The bloody seat has been made to dig into the butt bone (if there is one) of the rider. Which is me.

As of now, I am trying to think of what outfit to wear, and such calm (?), pleasant thoughts. But soon, I will start on the endeveour of screwing myself up.

Might post pictures if anyone wants to see them. So let me know if you want to see me, Petrovski, and lots of random people, some who are my staff, and a lot of fire and beer.

P.S - Wine and Chocolates (Ghirardelli's) and a Thank You note. That's a good enough gesture for a boss who is hosting a Bonfire right? Please say yes.

Innnn-Out. Innnn-Out.

2008-09-24T14:41:00.004-04:00

Breathe. Breathe harder. Slow. Innnn-Out. Innnnn-Out.

He had "quit" smoking. Except for yesterday when he had a couple. And a few days before that when he had a few at a party. But he had quit. Really.

It’s just the room you know. Too many people. Innnn-Out. Innnn-Out.

He was choking on his emotions. She had just entered the room.

Weighing the scales

2008-09-21T13:06:00.003-04:00

So eitherway you get screwed..

Either its a lifetime of regret that you dint follow through.. or its a lifetime of torture that you did follow through..

What's better, regret that eats at you all life leaves you discontent or torture that eats at you all life and leaves you unbalanced?

WTF is happening in Gotham City

2008-09-19T16:07:00.002-04:00

Unbelievable mood swings.. And I don't know a single person who could understand them..

So many things to say, but no one's there to listen. Flitting in and out of people's lives.. Some, have completely shut their lives altogether. Maybe I am shutting mine too..

Suddenly my attachement to this blog has increased. But it feels exploited, because of random people who dont care a hoot and their random comments, and because of people who care, but dont care enough to say anything.

Everyone is suddenly black and white. It's like I have lost my prowess of seeing the shades of grey. She is white, he is black (I thought he was white, but no, he's black) They are black. He is black. She is white. They are black.

Suddenly I am questioning all the relationship I have made. Isn't it supremely stupid to claim to have so many best friends? And if they are, which of them really understand you? Which of them knows what is happening right now, even though you dont talk to them daily. Most best friends are actually just good friends. Or very close friends.

I wonder if there is a point beyond which you wouldn't want to mature. And leave your fun, flighty, so-many-best-friends side behind. The side which laughed a lot once upon a time, when you were with them. But now you laugh with others. And then feel scared. Coz maybe you have lost what was once too precious.

(I know this blog has been getting too mysterious and non-understandable lately. It's majorly because it's me talking to myself. If you don't get it, or don't like it, I don't want to say sorry to you. You can either just continue checking up once in a blue moon, or forget that it existed. Your pick. Either way, the loss is mine.)

constants and variables

2008-09-18T01:28:00.002-04:00

Time is the only constant.

Emotions increase or decrease in intensity, reactions waver and fluctuate, friends come and go, people live or die, opportunities knock, withdraw and knock again, situations, cimcumstances, nature, weather, hell, every bloody thing changes.

But time is the only constant.

That day comes every year, no matter what. That night comes every year, those few hours too, repeat on the cycle of the clock. Its a different surrounding every time, but the thoughts inside me, run on an endless loop.

If only I could go back and change these few hours... And then a pause.

Because I know, no matter what, I would still do things the same way. Because the emotions then were pure and strong. Even if now they are diluted and gone. The reactions then were instant and true, even if on hindsight it all seems stupid and immature. The friends then, I believed them to be the best, even if now I realized they sucked at their job of being my friend. The people then who died a million deaths, resurfaced, survived the blow, and trusted again. Opportunites were lost, but other's came up too. The situations and circumstance, seemed justified then, now.. don't even ask..

But time remains a constant. Through it all. Unfailingly on time, and unfailingly there. Just there always.

Easy to Jinx

2008-09-09T23:13:00.002-04:00

Ever wondered at how happy you are, how perfect everything is and how wonderful the weather and the day is.

And then have it jinxed so bad it's not even salvagable. The sky opens up and pours (and you washed your hair today, dammit), the day turns dour and that perfect balance is ruined.

And happiness? It's like a bubble that you keep trying to catch or even just touch. But it either flits further away, or bursts into nothingness the minute you are close.

Mumbai's underlying faith

2008-09-08T22:33:00.005-04:00

What happened to India? As in India a country and not Maharashtra and Uttar Pradesh and West Bengal as different states.

http://www.indianexpress.com/story/358801.html

Is this man crazy? I am a Mumbaite, I am NOT a Maharashtrian, I do NOT speak Marathi, I do not even KNOW marathi for that matter. I was better off without knowing the existence of this man. Should I be banned too?

I am no big fan of the Bacchans. But I do know that Mumbai was always about being a cosmopolitian society. Just like Delhi, and Bangalore and Calcutta to a certain extent. My friend circle in Mumbai was always a mix of everyone. There was a Gujarati, a Maharashtrian, a Catholic, a Marwari, a Parsi, a Muslim and a South Indian. And we were always so proud of it.

No one asked for the state origin of a person before helping them out during the floods. We din't ask for language proof before stretching an arm and a leg out to people affected by the Train Blasts. Those who went to help after Godhra and the Earthquake in Gujarat were not only Gujaratis. Those who helped after the Tsunami were not only South Indians.

The last time people in Mumbai asked about dharam, mazhab and religion, Mumbai burned. And bled. Is this man mad enough to want to start that again? We have learned from that incident right? We will not fight amongst each other because your God has a different name, your heaven has a different name and your religious scriptures are different from the next persons.

Hell, I don't even believe in Religion and God. All I believe in is Mumbai. In the people in Mumbai. Their might be crooks, rascals, and eve teasers. But please let there not be people stupid enough to believe this idiot.

Please?

Not smart enough. Really not.

2008-09-03T18:40:00.002-04:00

I dropped a course today because I am not smart enough for it.

Seriously. I thought I was the nerd of advertising. Today I realized that even that is not good enough for this class.

Have you heard about those classes where students and the professor sit around a conference table, stare at a problem set in the center and try to reach a solution which will co-relate with life's problems? That's this class.

The students argue about the epiphanic moment in their lives when the situation they were in was influenced by history, politics and their own biographies. And how that relates with the white and black racial division and the undermining of Native Indians and the poverty they have had to go through because of the Great Civil War of Independence in America and the hegemony of pedagogy.

Lost. I am thoroughly lost in the three hours that the class goes through. While the students around me go through various stages of orgasmic noises because of the great knowledge imparted in the class, or dawn on the real solution to placing wooden blocks in such a way that the bottom blocks do not have to take the burden of the neo capitalist economy.. I sleep.

These are all scholars, who actually learn a lot in the class. Who actually can make a lot of sense of everything that just bounces past my nose. And I can't do that.

So I shall drop this class. And admit to the world and myself that there are several levels of intelligentsia and I am way low on it. Way too low.

"Take the next flight out and come back."

2008-08-31T09:48:00.003-04:00

Sometimes you wake up in the morning, hug your T-shirt, and realize, how much you miss things.

And then you just wish that you could hug them quick and tight and then carry on with the new routine.

*Hugs Gumbal*

I'm a Grad Student

2008-08-26T22:56:00.003-04:00

When you are a Grad student it is assumed that when you shut your eyes for a minute it is because you are re-thinking the thought.

That when you stare into the distance, you are pondering over something deep.

That when you are gazing into your laptop, you are considering a problem and when you are furiously typing away? You are storing away each word spoken in class.

It is believed that when you are discussing something with the guy next to you, it is worthy of disturbing the quiet in the class.

That when you turn to look at someone talking, you are not checking them out.

When you are an under-grad student, it is assumed that you are sleeping, not focusing, lazing, chatting online, emailing, gossiping or checking someone out.

I am a Grad Student.

2008-08-16T19:19:00.002-04:00

I know.. that 10 years down the line.. I am going to look at you and wonder why I held back. Why I doubted.. but I know I must doubt now.. I must think and re-think now.. I must hold back..

Because The Crazy in me? It resurrects itself with every doubt I have in me.. regarding me, you or the future..

Alone..

2008-08-16T17:15:00.003-04:00

She sets the table. Puts out the soup, toasts the bread, heats the mushrooms. Absentmindedly she picks up the red handled spoons from the holder and lays them next to the mismatched plates. The microwave pings and the oven buzzes. Both the mushrooms and the bread are done. She sets it out on the small kitchen table and pauses. Picks up one of the plates, serves, steps to the sink and eats. Standing there.

When you start living alone, you train yourself to get used to eating by the sink too. Standing.

Jaane Tu - Please Don't Torture Yourself...

2008-07-17T05:41:00.003-04:00

Its been over two weeks since Jaane Tu.. Ya Jaane Na was released.

The furor over this film, the fact that it was supposed to be "refreshingly nice and cute" and that it had a feel of what I call the Neo Indian Cinema phase made me want to see it really bad. I had been pestering Mr. Pilot to catch it with me since the day it came out. Yesterday, finally we managed to see the film.

And I cannot begin to describe my disappointment. Trust me folks, its a rubbish film. Coming from someone who actually adores films, loves a new feel to movies, and likes masala, action, comedy and every other genre. This film is a messed up venture.

A messed up effort because the story is good, but the execution of the story (not the movie) sucks. The main characters are real, substantial, and amazingly well done, the side ones? were forgotten in the deal. The dialogue delivery is awesome, but the dialogues itself are archaic.
The shots are beautiful but they make you think that a lot was cut out from the film. The twists are stupid and unnecessary. Isn't high time people understood that you do NOT need horses, Maharajas, typical Gujju friend who slips in and out of his accent, ghosts and flashbacks in a movie to make it good? If you wanted to take digs at older films, you should have made the Indian version of Scary Movies.

So there's Aditi and Jay. Both have unbelievably possible nick names - Meow and Rats. Go figure. I think the director and the screen play writer spent so much time carving their characters out that every one else is just an excuse to the movie. Both are the typical college kids, confused about what they actually feel, and looking outside for what they actually have right within them. They share an awesome rapport with their families, with each other families and with their friends.

And then there are a volley of side characters. Jay's mom- Savitri Aunty, thoroughly unbelievable; Aditi's super-cool parents, who suddenly become presumptuous; Aditi's brother, who could star in a sequel about his confusion and loneliness; their friends each defined by one character trait. And Jay's girlfriend, and Aditi's fiancé, also defined by one character trait. Jay's girlfriend lives in an imaginary world, and Aditi's fiancé lives in a macho, maar-dhaad world.

Did I leave someone out? Oh yes, Jay's dead father who lives through his portrait and his long lost Maharaja brothers who ride horses to city clubs and aspire to be jailed wearing leather vests and stetsons. Sigh.

Have I said enough? No? Ok how about the final scene where Jay, who has never done any horse riding, except in his dreams, starts galloping across Asiatic Library, Link Road at Malad and then to the International Airport to stop Aditi from leaving the country. But since she has already completed immigration and is sitting right next to her departure gate, he whizzes past the airport authorities, ducks machine guns trained at him, kabaddis around at least 10 security guards, goes through the baggage x-ray portal, up and down a few stairwells and reaches Aditi and starts screaming Meow, Meow. And then adds his trademark love song to it. And wins her.

The songs have a new age feel to it true, but they really are not exceptional. I love Kahi toh, but that's because I love such sappy songs with beautiful lyrics. I like Kabhi Kabhi Aditi, but I wouldn't listen to it after 3 or 4 months. And Papu can't dance sala seems quite stupid after hearing it twice. But I guess everyone has a different taste in songs, different genres for different peoples.

All in all, please please please don't see this film in a movie theatre. In fact, avoid seeing it even. If you really want, catch a few glimpses of it on youtube, and you will know the best parts of the movie. Else, avoid such mind numbing nonsense.

Sorry everyone, who claimed that this movie is spectacular, runaway hit, refreshingly nice like sunshine, peppy, cute or even fun. Really it isn't When will someone start writing truthful reviews and not mislead the poor aam janta like us man...

The spoils of a conquest

2008-07-10T04:42:00.003-04:00

A pure white hair-band lying on the floor. In front of the drawn curtains.

The roller chair, abandoned between the room.

Flowers knocked over from the glass vase. The vase, amazingly, unbroken.

The laptop lying on its side with its charging cord dangling from the side.

The book, the page you were reading preserved so preciously till now, on its face on the floor near the bed.

The Ipod speakers blaring an instrumental track you normally always skipped over.

Pillows on the floor and the bedspread crumpled. Bruises on your legs, your calves and your neck.

Going to Imaginary Places..

"Have your medicines NOW" "I would, but I can't find them.."

2008-07-05T00:36:00.005-04:00

I feel like I have lost this entire last week. Starting from the Sunday gone.

Everything planned went up for a toss. The only thing I remember of the week is endless visits to damned doctors (nothing against them, just a personal grouse) and endless flowers.

I think I might have visited every species of doctors in just 7 days. Gynecologist, Radiologist, Ophthalmologist, Obstetrician, Pediatrician, Dentist, Endocrinologist, Anesthesia Specialist, and a Psychiatrist in making. Sigh. This from someone who is shit scared of doctors and read the italics above. Trust me, it feels like I have met every species existing..

Yours truly is a believer in natural cure. Meaning when sick, wait for the body to recover by itself. Without the help of medicines or damned doctors. And now, after the last 7 days, I take 5 pills, 2 syrups, 2 powders and drops in my eyes daily. This is what is the perfect combination of mental and physical torture.

Believe me, I try to 'lose' these medicines as often as I can. Now only if that would work...

phobias of the mind..

2008-07-03T16:37:00.000-04:00

So you know what's the problem?

I am not committed enough to writing and posting here. I write, actually, I start writing. I voice out some random thoughts. Most of them pretty heavy. I don't piece them. I just pour them. Then when I feel like I'm half way through, I re-read it.. I wonder why the hell should I be posting this. Writing it should help me enough. Posting it means expecting something more. Why expect more? Especially where this is no real commitment. No expectations from the other side. It's not like people who read this blog expect to know all this.

So there is an expectation problem and a commitment problem. With this blog. And in life. Not only mine, every human being's life. Too bad, I say.

Needs external magical touch

2008-06-29T09:45:00.003-04:00

I have written 7 posts in the last week. Each of them are what I was exactly feeling at that instant. But I haven't published a single one. Just thought I'd let you know that I am not being lazy, I'm just swinging on the mood terribly.

Anyone know where I can get some magic potion to lift me out of this?

Please tell me I'm not the only one..

2008-06-19T01:20:00.004-04:00

Have you ever felt like shouting out.. screaming out randomly..

Have you ever felt like turning the volume on your ipod up so loud that hopefully it could drown out your thoughts?

Have you ever felt bare, exposed although covered from head to toe..

Have you ever felt like stretching out more, and more and more because it feels like there is something in your bones thats not right?

Have you ever felt like covering yourself up with water because you need that fluidity enveloping you..

Have you ever felt like running away from talking to anyone in the world?

Have you ever felt like this is not you... not your body, not your thoughts.. and not your situation..

Have you ever felt like avoiding everyone around you and meeting absolutely random people, at the same time?

Have you ever desperately wanted to go to that one place, do that one thing, but something or the other has just restricted you from it..

Have you ever felt the need to express yourself without words, through action, art, pictures, or ink?

Have you ever stood up, looked up and desperately wished for the rains to wash away every bit of consciousness..

Have you ever just randomly met someone every goddamn day because you want it to start feeling right?

Have you ever thought if while reading this you are thinking of the exact same things I was thinking of while writing this..

Have you ever wondered if the person in front of you is really real or just a hoax, a bundle of illusions, a manipulation of thoughts and gestures?

Have you ever looked back and wondered what you did wrong for this to happen, for that person to behave like you just don't exist anymore..

Have you ever questioned your decision because you aren't really sure if that's going to make you, or anyone else too, happy for sure?

Have you ever doubted the potential that you might have had.. the promise that seems real sometimes and impossible at others...

Have you ever felt incomplete, right in the center of your being. Like there is a page left unturned in the book of your life and you have flipped past it and can never go back to it..

Wet, wild and lovely

2008-06-06T04:59:00.003-04:00

I have a lot of posts due. Tumbling thoughts, words and feelings from my mind. But they are all assigned to later because one thing numbs everything else in me. Rains.

Monsoon here is not just rain. That's why monsoon here is so special. There are crazy winds, the sky clouding up and suddenly immersing the atmosphere in a beautiful dark haze, the trees going crazy with the water droplets and the winds. And the wonderful beautiful rains itself.

Champaign rains are just rains. Suddenly the sky tears up and it pours. Straight sleek sheets of rain. And then it stops.

Rains here have just so much character, so much substance to it. Like it carries all this personality with it just to make a person feel good from inside. Feel whole. If there's one thing that will always pull me back to Mumbai, over every other thing I have been noting in the past month, it is this. The wildness that is the rain here.

The sky rims up with dark clouds leaving a small border of its original blueness as a stark contrast. The wind and the rain lash out, but never feel cruel. Even if all the doors in your house are fastened, the wind will definitely find a few doors and windows to clatter. Love the feeling of going around the house shutting those doors up, waiting to see what more will be clattered next.

I love going up to our terrace and just standing there, the center of the world, with the wind pushing out at me, the rain pouring down and the trees reaching out. Right now its just the sixth floor of our house, I wonder what will the 30th floor be like next year. It'll feel like being between the cloud of rain I guess.

The climate fills you up, completes you, makes you forget everything else and makes you remeber every best thing. Makes you want the best comforts of like, hot coffee and a soft couch with a book, but makes you want to stay put there and get drenched. Makes you want to get up between the night when it suddenly starts pouring to just lose yourself in the rumbling thunder. The rolling noise of welcome. He lightening mesmerizes you, stuns you and brings out the best in the dark hue which the clouds bring about.

It feels like the world in within your embrace, everything you desire for is right there in front of you, or just within reach. It feels like it takes little really to keep you happy, to make you feel content, complete. Because thats what you are at that moment, content and complete.

losing a best friend..

2008-05-31T16:01:00.000-04:00

I'm tired...

Tired of looking for your walk in the walk of that man on the road. Tired of comparing how that guy looks and how you looked like that when you were 17. Tired of stopping myself from having the faith, but somewhere within, believing. Tired of ignoring all the signs which point to a banner in my mind that says, "Your trust is going to be questioned again".

I love challenges, and distances, and games and waiting. But I am tired now. I never wanted this friendship to be a game. I have never wanted any relationship to ever be a game. But I am tired of this.. whatever this is.

I am tired of being cynical about the people closest to me. I am tired of wanting my best friend to not have the "world plot against him" and for him to everytime get stuck in a situation wherein I lose my faith on him.

I am tired of staying awake, although I am dead tired. Of not being able to shut my eyes, just because I had been promised something at 3 am. This is my last wait.

I am tired of promises that are made with random words, and then forgotten just as randomly. And I am tired of believing these promises every single time. I am tired of waiting to recapture the best moments I spent in this city. I am tired of getting hurt again, yet again and then again.

I am tired of other friends telling me to give up on this friendship. Not tired of listening to them, but tired of hoping that they might be wrong. I am tired of being excited because this time you wont break a promise, but that time has not yet come. Not after seven years. I am tired of not being able to trust someone else's affection, because trusting yours has only brought me disappointment.

I am tired of being a coward, and giving you one more chance everytime. I am tired of being strong, and taking all the blows you give me each time. I am tired of doing the wrong things in life to other people because of a setback I get from you. I am tired of standing up for you.

This is your last chance. If you don't come through this time, my best friend, I'll lose everything I have pinned on you.

But when I lose all that, I know I'll get a different kind of freedom. What I don't know is whether I will like it or not. Whether I will be able to accept it or not.

Flying Alone

2008-05-13T10:01:00.002-04:00

Flying by yourself is magical. It’s magical when you know how to not think. To snap out of everything the minute you end that last call and switch the bloody nuisance of a phone off. Its magical when you select a movie, see it, forward the parts you want to forward, see another movie, supposedly a sappy one which your friends refused to see with you, tear up a bit with a chocolate not having to worry about damaging your macho reputation, see another movie your friends saw when you were not in town, accompany the movie with a glass of terrible tasting wine.

When you pick and chose what you want to eat in the lunch/brunch tray provided to you, wonder for a bit if its really vegetarian, and then because there is no one to verify, try a bit, and leave it because it tastes bad, not because it tastes like meat.

When you try to surreptitiously look around the plane for any guys worth trying to catch a second glimpse of.

When you curl up on the seat adjacent, without worrying about disturbing someone else’s peace.

When you spot that female with beautiful hair, and try to catch a glimpse of her face to see if it matches with the wonderful hair. (It did)

When you get off at the connecting airport, see a model of something you know your best friend would love, and pick it up for him without worrying about how it will damage your credit card conversion.

Because, after ages, there is Marathi floating around you in speech bubbles. And the shrill Saathiya ringtone ringing somewhere, with a mother calling out to her child in Gujarati, a Parsi wife asking her husband to speak softly, a muslim guy spiffing his hair up to impress that wonderful hair female mentioned above, an old uncle in a safari suit carrying a peti around, and a young kid in military pants trying to steal his sister’s ipod. And you are absorbing it in all alone, and smiling contently.

When you happily think about only those patchy parts of an issue you want to think about. The rest will be thought about when anyone else is concerned about it. You are not at the instant.

Because when you finally get 12 hours just for yourself, you enjoy them like never before.

Flying with yourself is magical, but somehow at the beginning of the journey you always wish you had someone standing in the security check line with you, with their arms around you.

But, I love flying with myself. Because I am not alone, I have me for company.

HOME

2008-05-10T15:48:00.003-04:00

1 Car Ride to the first airport.

2 Bus rides between destinations.

3 blocks of walking lugging huge heavy bags.

4 Plane rides between five cities

5 train rides from one part of NYC to another.

And home. Thousands of miles away from home, but home nevertheless.

Makes you wonder how relative or absolute is the term home. How much of a variable is it, with dependables being the people who make your home, home. And how important is it.

I have wondered several times in the past few days what I am going to, and going away from. And what is following me there. It’s all relative. My realization of leaving India when I came to USA to study is fresh in my brain. I don’t know how. But I still know exactly how I felt that day, when my brother picked us up from JFK and took us home. This post does not begin to describe it. And inexplicably, but expectedly, I feel the same as I sit in Abu Dhabi Airport. This time for my home in Champaign. For my home that is the people I have left behind.

I packed up by house before I left. Because I am moving out of that apartment. The last two days in Champaign have been crazy. RM left a day before me, we have finally PARTED WAYS. No more RM bitching, unless she pounces on all my friends who are going to be her neighbors next year. But over the last few months, I realized she is not important enough to write about or bitch about too much here, so I stopped. I don’t think she can remedy that situation anymore. Unless she tries to become to friendly with Dhum, Petrovski or Pinki. She won’t bother with the girls ofcourse.

Anyway, so I packed up my apartment. Everyone of the Gumbal got a little emotional about it. It was home for a lot of us. Even if we didn’t spend hours and hours together there. It was our haven in some ways. My apartment was always there to have fun in. It always had any ingredient needed, had our cooking sessions, our Friends marathon seasons, our talking into the nights, night maroing with coffee walks in the morning. Our haven. The new apartment has great expectations to live up to.

I want too much, I think too much

2008-05-07T02:45:00.005-04:00

I have a page full of drafts. The last post was a recycled one. I wrote a post about the things heavily on my mind, completed it, tagged it, and then.. hit Save. He speaks about this same phenomena in a much better way.

A day and 20 hours away from India, I'm wondering...

What am I going away from? What am I going to?

I feel like I'm leaving one family behind. Here I am, sitting among boxes and boxes of my stuff, wondering if that family has already left me behind, or is my mind paying tricks on me again..

I am going to one family. The one that can never leave me behind. Never isolate, desert, or go away. Never make me feel like maybe I'm better away. But where's the joy gone?

I'm convincing my mind to detach, detach, detach. While one part of me is loudly yelling inside my brain, another is putting on a straight, pleasant face, looking understanding and .. detached?

I'm looking at three months ahead, wondering what happened to this time. Where did it go?

I m wondering why does it feel that whatever is really inside this shell, is being torn apart. While I sit patiently waiting for realization to dawn.

I don't want one at the cost of another. I don't want either if both ask me to make a choice. I don't want time with one person, while the rest stay away. Spend their time somewhere else.

I want them. Back.

I hate Finals

Universe = my friend

2008-04-17T14:09:00.003-04:00

Isn't it weird?

When we are kids, teens, and freshly "in love" for the first time, all we can think of is ahead.
When we are old, mature, in the twenties, old enough to logically consider the ahead, all we can think of is now.
When we are older, more mature, and in the thirties... I'm not there yet, can anyone else fill this in?

When we have happiness in hand, we forget how painful the sadness was.. and when we have sadness, we forget how elevating the happiness was.

When we live with someone, we yearn for the chance to live alone. When we live alone, we yearn for the chance to not eat standing at the sink, alone.

Isn't it weird. How the universe turns things for you at every angle? If it wouldn't be like that, it would probably be very boring and non-crazy.

And I can't do non-crazy. I need spontaneity and crazy to live by. Yea, I think the universe is my friend after all.

My shot at soulmates...

2008-04-12T16:34:00.003-04:00

There was a time when each post had a bit of you in it. When fights, fun, smiles, laughter, anger, possibilities, hopes, crying, cribbing, whining, sleeping, would be shared with you. It seemed right.

You are my missed chance.
The one random thing that can pull me out and plunge me in.

You are at a distance now. A distance I drew. But we are good. And we will always be good, no matter how. Because we both are each others impossible, but beautiful lives.

Magic and craziness

2008-04-11T04:08:00.005-04:00

There's some magic in lying down on the curb, of a highway, at 2 am and looking up to gaze at a thick, cloudy, starless sky. Just because.

And there's some magic in walking across a small-ish flower bereft park, at 1:25 am, and suddenly looking down to see a small pot of fresh flowers and a brass plaque saying, "Florence Dorsey, 77 Elm Street", under an unexpected star studded and bare branches screened sky.

There's a lot of magic out there in the world. You just need the craziness to be able to explore it.

The anonymous troll who slept with my blog

2008-04-07T18:12:00.003-04:00

Is that taking it to far? Ah, well, ok then. This troll definitely wants to take things further with this blog. Troll hates to love this blog, and loves to hate it. But can't get enough of it either way. So here is ~dream theatre~'s inner monologue. This side of the line.

"I know this troll is taking things further. But isn't it too soon? Ah.. the trials and tribunals of courting. We have so many things common. Anonymous Troll and me. I, being a blog have no gender really, so does Troll. Troll, being anonymous and bitchy does not have a gender too you know. So many similarities, yet Troll complains that my love is selfish. That all I think about is me, and my creator, of course.

So here Troll, is this post for you. To show you my love. You stalk me so much, oh I find that flattering don't worry, you leave me little notes. Have something to say for everything I say, and you get so agitated when someone else leaves me notes, expresses interest and admiration for me. Ah, possessive love.
I have too many admirers you see, and even if they remain silent, their love for me is just so obvious that it pains Anonymous Troll.

Yea, Troll has a little bit of a problem with using abusive languages. But everyone has their little flaws right? Well, Troll and me might have had few personal interactions, which obviously I did not record too well, but that is hinted at so beautifully in the little notes. You notice that's why I am addressing you only by your last name or your full name.

My friends seem to be accepting Troll too. See they are trying to bring you out. Troll, I promise you the second anonymous note, oh that wasn't competition. Only, Dhum, a guy. So you have nothing to worry about. You see, he has an identity, expresses his thoughts with his identity and is a guy!! So, nothing to worry about.

But taking this further seems to be rushing things. You see I am only 2 years and 4 months old, and I think our first communication was in mid-october sometime only. Its just been 5 months since we know each other! Taking the step (while I write this my poor blog eyebrows, the header, has gone way up, last the toolbar even!), it's a little too soon for my immature self.

But our little affair will continue I know. I know you are loving my friends, and that you are following me everytime, every step, all the way. So it looks like we will have a long relationship. And I dont think you will ever that courage thing that my creator fumes about, so I am sure our similarites will continue too.

Here's to a long, hide-y, and beautiful relationship that we have. Meanwhile, please dont get distracted and concentrate your spewed delicate words on my friend. It's me you love, stalk, and vent out on, remember?"

Meeting Meat..

2008-04-06T06:22:00.003-04:00

My family is strictly vegetarian. No meat, no fish, no eggs. This, by religious affiliation. I, on the other hand, being as completely non-religious that I am, should by default not be vegetarian. But I am. For the simple reason that eating something that once pissed, shat and carried out all those weird bodily functions grosses me out. Hence I have always been more or less okay with eggs. Eggs don't piss, shit, bleed right. And I try to forget that they are the animal equivalent of fetuses when I have to have them.

But I had always believed that when I did, by mistake/chance/fate, unknowingly, eat meat, I would freak out. I would do all that that my strictly vegetarian friends do, puke, gag, force-throw up or not be able to eat further.

Today I had meat. Unknowingly, by mistake. Not mine, the waitress'. I asked her for Pasta Fettuccine, without Panchetta, or pork. I specified that I don't eat meat, or fish. She said she would exclude the meat. And then included beef in the recipe. God knows why.

When she came with out orders, I asked her if mine was no meat, she replied in the affirmative.
I had a bit of what looked like a miniature corn on cob and could not quite place its taste. I asked Petrovski to try it. He laughed out loud after trying it. And then declared,

"Its Beef."

Thanks

I dint throw-up, or dint feel like throwing up too. It was no big deal. I had something I did not want to have. I returned it, and waited for the replacement to re-return. While Pinki got pissed with the error, I thought over it. Friends in the background assured me that it was unknowingly consumed, so it was not a big deal. It was a mistake after all.

It wasn't a big deal for me. At all. I would probably have reacted a little more aggresively had there been tomatoes in my dish. But even that has toned down quite a bit. I realized that I am completely dis-jointed from the religious sacrilege, that little bit of beef put me into. In my past job, I watched the chef mince beef all day, every day. I watched while chicken was grilled and chopped and prawns were sautéed. And then I washed those vessels. And at the end of the day, if I could wash my hands off it all, I was ok.

And I thought, You go girl!! I love the fact that I dint throw a tantrum, dint spout hare ram, hare rams or beg for forgiveness from some imaginary force. I asked myself it mattered that much, and it dint. And the incident floated by. No one's mood got spoilt by it, no one's appetite got spoilt by it and I dint behave like a typical sissy.

I have come to terms with the fact that my beliefs are more important than the religious beliefs in the entire world, and that even if I have not found my crutch to lean on, I have a rock solid belief system. The balance of which is not teetered by incidents like these.

No apologies, and no misgivings.

How long?

2008-04-03T15:06:00.005-04:00

It's always a random conversation on the phone with a random person that dashes my dreams. And everytime my dreams have been dashed, I have wondered when will that final stroke come. Which will crash and burn my dreams. Which will remove me of this childish attachment I have to my dreams. And they crashed today, and they will burn till the fire reaches exhaustion.

I used to dream a lot. Every stranger on the road could be a dream, every obtuse comment could be a dream, and if I had known you for more than 5 minutes, you would definitely have featured sometime in my dream. Now I just know that those dreams will have no more value in my life.

Because how long can someone keep believing in second chances? And how many second chances are there in life?

How many times can you take the whip on your back? When every whip diminishes your self worth by chunks. When you finally start rebuilding a soft, vulnerable version of your self worth up again, that final blow can kill it forever.

For how long can you stand on the sidewalk and just try and concentrate on the footfalls that you hear, and block each and every killing thought our of your head?
For how long can you block the world out.. just so that you can forget that anything apart from this microcosm that is you, your body and your brain exist?
For how long can you look at nothingness, blankly, and feel that twinkle in your die, a slow painful death every realization that the brain draws on?
For how long can you be stuck in this weird position where you know that the million things happening to you at that instant? are killing you inside, but somehow, tears cannot be contemplated even.
How much more time, before the poison from the eyes spread to being, and kills it too, completely, slowly and painfully?

For how long can you survive on a staple diet of lies that are fed to you?

For how long exactly can you wait, for that phonecall of truth?

And how long then will it take me to stop believing that its all those little white lies I indulged in as a child that are coming back to me, triple fold, now?

There'll be changes on this blog soon.. the word dream is crawling under my skin, creeping me out. No more.

Swinging into the sea..

2008-03-26T12:13:00.004-04:00

In my dreams I found that place. That one place I have always wanted to go to. And it felt so real.

I know exactly how far away it is, the exact way to it, the exact bend of the road, the foliage at the sides of the road, the decrepit building which stands at the left of one of those curves, the bank of sand at the end.The low trees as soon as you enter the sand chute which hide the the place from your view and then emerging out on the soft shore of the river. No big waves, just small lapping curves, gently licking the feet and a swing set at that very edge. So that when you sit on the swing and take a push, you are soaring over gentle laps of water. Deep blue near the bottom and a shimmering blue at the far end.

I feel like taking pictures, maybe I did take some, because the picture of that dream still shines in my mind. With muted gold tones.

I remember thinking, "Oh my god, this is the place I have always dreamed about. I should show this to you" I don't know why you came into my mind then. It felt like of all people I know you would appreciate it the most. Appreciate all of this.

The place is still in my mind, the picture is still fresh, but because it's a dream, I don't know how long it will stay fresh. I feel like sketching it before it disappears, but I don't think I'll do justice to it. It's only my mind that is doing justice to it right now, and these words come a far second to it.

I am sure everyone dreams of things that are so real-ly imaginary. Care to describe them and make me feel like I am not the only one?

There are people..

2008-03-23T14:30:00.002-04:00

There are people who are not different. They are the difference.

People who don't just solve a problem, they let you reach the solution.

People who get hurt when you are hurt, and when they want to be there for you.

People who sit with you on a bus stop and talk about the most random things about your past, that you never thought you would share. At least not with someone who you know from just a few weeks.

People for whom you don't have to care about how long you know them from, but all you care if how long they will be yours.

People who's departure, as distant as it is, disturbs you enough to consider a departure too.

People who mean your microcosm to you. A world of your own, and no one else outside understands it.

People who you feel so close to, that you are shocked when you see that others are that close, or closer to them.

People who you don't necessarily talk hours to on the phone, every day. But when you do? that once in a while becomes minutes without your knowing it.

People who sometimes have the power and ability to finish your sentences, mouth your thoughts and crave the same things as you.

People who encourage you so silently that their confidence in you shows.

People who don't think about what they are missing out on, as long as you are happy..

People who you know will not go into super sentimental mode, just because the occasion is so.

People who you know will react rationally, but so super funnily that you will actually be on the floor laughing.

People who have a quiet strength around them, that gives you warmth too.

People who hug you so tight, you forget your entire day in that moment, and who peck you so sweetly, it feels like it's their birthright.

People who you want to be in your life forever, as a part of this parallel family.

People who teach you the art of parallel thinking, a parallel thought for every statement issued.

People who have the art of keeping an absolute poker face, while dishing out the fatalest of jokes and concealing the deepest of secrets.

People who are always game to try something new, no matter what, as long as it is not illegal.

People who you know will wrap you in their embrace when you are too out of your mind to string coherent words together.

People who don't need to be told what exactly is your choice, your taste and your selection. They know it because it fits them perfect.

People who just come to mean so much, there are no words to express how lucky you think you are to have them in your life.

Dhum, you are all this to me. And more. Happy Birthday!! I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been a part of my life. I love you.

A butterfly bond

2008-03-21T22:57:00.000-04:00

He was not the person she expected him to be.

No, he didn't deceive her. But, he was just not who she had brought to life in her mind. Who she had put all her faith in, all her trust in. He was not him. He was different.

"But how am I different?"

She didn't know. Different. Maybe a good different for some other girl, but not the different she would have loved.

Maybe she was not what he had thought she would be too. She didn't know. She asked him, she never kept such things in her mind, hidden, but he didn't give her a direct yes or no. And they had always had a direct yes or no relationship. But he tried. She knew he tried his best to create what both had had in mind before they had met. But because he was not who she thought he would be, she did not think it possible.

He still said he would do anything for her, but she did not believe him anymore. He was not him. She did not trust him in the same way too. She just couldn't tell him what was in her mind. She wanted him to at least know that something was on her mind, she would pave the rest of the path, but he seemed ignorant to that. He admitted that she could still read him in the same way, but she didn't really believe it. She wanted to, desperately, but she didn't.

She had wanted more. But she couldn't put a finger on what was that more. It wasn't more love, more affection. more warmth, more trust. It was just more of him. She felt like he was not putting all of himself out there, like he had done before. But he couldn't do that.

She wanted an attachment which was solid, where they looked out for one another no matter what, without actually hovering on top all the time. Just by knowing it. She wanted to have guy talks with him, go girly shopping with him and just go between the night for a walk together, grab some coffee. They ended up liking the same coffee, but not wanting to go for walks together.She missed the bond they had formed. She had come to think of it as everything. As her support system, her sounding wall and her cheer-up valley. She didn't know if he had weaved the same kind of web around him, but she knew even she was not all this for him anymore. She believed she was once. It wasn't love, or any such grave thing, but it was a deep deep trust. Which was supposed to have solidified when they met, not dissolved into something weaker. Something more humane.

She din't want humane, she didn't think he did. Not the he that she knew. But that was all that was left. A light, teasy, butterfly kind of a bond.

Predicting emotions 50 days from now

2008-03-20T02:17:00.006-04:00

May 7th - 10.50 am - Sitting in my room in Champaign, with boxes and clothes and chocolates and gifts.

May 8th - 10.50 am - Sitting in the Subway in NY with Veeru, talking excitedly about May 9th, and 10th and more.

May 9th - 10.50 am - Etihad flight EY 100 JFK to Abu Dhabi - Abu Dhabi to BOM. Thinking about everything I am leaving behind for a month and a half, and everything I am coming home to for a month and half.

May 10th - 10.50 pm - Mumbai, home. Sitting on my sofa, soaking up the heat, wondering why there are so many people around, Desperately wanting, wishing, missing my brother there. Wanting Dhanno and Jay with me at all times. Missing Veeru's presence that completes our Sholay. Wishing Mr. Pilot had picked me up at the airport with everyone else. Wanting Dhum to be here too. And Pinks and Pals and Petrovski. Wishing Pri had been there a couple of months later.

And back to..

March 20th - 2.00 am - Champaign, sitting on my sofa, feeling pleased to have completed the India Tickets Booking procedure, extrapolating my emotions (above) and starting the countdown to India. A month and 20 days to go.

Will you meet me when I'm there?

One more...

2008-03-16T18:44:00.001-04:00

Yes, one more deleted post..

Give me some time.. I don't know why, but the doubt hanging over this post did not subside after I posted it for sometime.

I will probably resolve it and re-post it soon, because I just banished that post to my drafts folder again. Sigh.

I am not a feminist because..

2008-03-10T01:50:00.004-04:00

Because I do not believe in a weighing scale between the two anyway.

Because I have a lot of masculine behaviorisms which would pit me against feminine stereotypes.

Because I believe in the goodliness of both. Those who don't? Meet my brother, Mr. Pilot, Jay, Dhum, Pinks, Jats. And meet my Mom, Dhanno, Pri, Radha, Doc and Chocolate. This is the world.

Because I do not see a difference between men and women as two categories.. I see differences between each and every person. And I see that there is nothing called a personist.

Because I stereotype unconsciously and hate myself for it. For men or women.

Because I believe marriage is between two individuals, who are of the same standing. Neither wears the pants nor cooks for the house. Both do both and both should be able to manage both without the other too. And the two individuals can be of the same sex too.

Because existing is about defying stereotypes.

Because people I love being pampered, and I love pampering too.

Because I appreciate people who show chivalry, but hate those who overdo it.

Because I hate being undermined just because I am a woman, and love being respected for un-womanly things.

Because I typically hate sissy kinda behavior, whether it is a guy doing it or a girl.

Because I love appreciating beauty, and woman ARE beautiful.

Because I love broad shouldered, clean shaved guys.

Because I am confused about where I stand at the pedestal of which sex is better, both are essentially just humane but with different behavior systems according to me.

Because I hate being termed, put in a mould, or joining a bandwagon.

Because I have been asked before where I stand on this debate, and my answer has been "I don't know, I haven't figured it out yet because I don't believe in equality or inequality between two of the same kinds. "

Because I do not believe in the existence of this term at all.

There is this cloud wafting over the blogosphere right now about feminism, sexists and such. I did not intend to post anything on this. But this has been a discussion I have evaded from a long time. Here are my views finally, and that too because I realized the vacuum in the existence of it.
For some more views on it, diverse and otherwise, read this and this. She writes real good stuff on topics such as these.
For a different angle all together on this issue, read this.
For some typically blood boiling kind of a read, see this. Actually, I should not be giving him anymore publicity but I need people to see how disgustingly speechless you can be rendered.

Semi-anonymous

2008-03-08T19:35:00.004-05:00

What's in a name? I have discussed going anonymous before. I had then intended to change the address of this blog. No wait, I was not going to lose my readers, I had an elaborate process in mind. I would have put up a post asking all my readers to kindly de-lurk, just once, and send me an email, and I would reply with my new blog address. I knew a lot of my readers might not be comfortable with this, apart from the ones I don't want reading my blog [yea, there are some like that out there, but NO you are not one of them ;) ]. But well, since I knew everyone would not appreciate my sudden flight for anonymity and a new address, I dithered, and then let myself be convinced out of it.

I have a lot of friends or maybe I should say I know of a lot of bloggers, who are friends now, who are completely anonymous. No names ever. They have debated about whether they should reveal who they are, while here I am, going the opposite way.

I have some very fundamental reasoning in my life. Everyone is essentially good. But there are those few people in the millions out there, who are mean, bad, bitchy and judgmental. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong being like that, but when you are like that all the time? It doesn't sit too well with me. Because then basically I think you don't have enough brains to know what's better, for your health and well-being.

I don't want those people googling my name and finding me. Because it IS pretty easy. Finding this blog or me. And actually, this blog is me. Pure, unadulterated me.

So, I have removed my name from this blog. It's become just "~The Dream Catcher~. I am trying to remove my footsteps from where ever they are on the net. Directly linked to my name. My name is one of those few things about my that truly make me proud. But those of you who know my name, will always know how special it is to me. Meanwhile, I bid my name, adieu from the internet. At least where I can track it down.

Also, I have been very careful with not letting my picture out on the blog world. Even when Petrovski wanted to post a picture of me and him on his blog, I insisted it be a silhouette for the same reason. But if it is there, with my name, and I am not aware of it, do let me know.

P.S. Those of you, that I don't know of, and have links to me with my name on it, please can you make it "~The Dream Catcher~"?
Also, if anyone has a picture of me, by any chance at all, on your blog, or flickr or anything, please blur it or remove my name or something. Thanks a lot!

There was a girl

2008-03-05T23:50:00.002-05:00

She had a strong voice, but it was pleasant and confident to the ears. Very masculine. Too heavy, but soft. Never sounds like what I think it sounds like.

A large frame, broad shoulders and an interesting, open face. God, I wish I was tiny, I tower over everyone. I wish I had even a little bit of the look on my face. I wish I knew how to Look.

An assertive personality, a strikingly comforting style of dressing in smart clothes which suited her well, but were not exclusive designer material. Frumpy. I look huge in this. I can never wear that small little tank top that I think is so cute. I will always have to chose comfort over style.

She was always ready to try new things, learn more. Intelligent but watned more knowledge. Talented to an average person's level. That is interesting. I would love to be able to be just naturally good at that. Or that. Oh I wish I had some natural flair for something at least.

She spoke less and only when she had something to say. Over the years she realized she did not need to opinionate everytime. My opinions are biased. I need a lot more knowledge and information backing just statements.

She asked a lot of questions since her childhood- relevant and irrelevant- in her clear strong voice. Goodness, where are all these thoughts coming from? Am I sounding like a freak? Shit! Questions again!!

She wasn't the top scorer in her class- but for some reason her classmates always thought she was. Her comments, opinions and ideas always induced everyone to think that. Her confident views, spoken quietly with her assertiveness always impressed. I need to score better marks. My family expects me to be the highest. They think I am so intelligent, I wish I could just tell them that I am not. Really I am not. I am the anomaly in the family. The one dull one. And these people in my class think I am intelligent just because I speak less. I wish they would stop expecting me to be so brainy too.

Everytime after she spoke, one thought ran before and after through her mind.
Maybe I should just shut up. No one wants to hear me speak.
No one wanted to hear that. Why did I even open my mouth.

Sometimes it must be nice to be a guy..

2008-03-03T23:27:00.004-05:00

Forgive the stereotyping but...

Muscle doesn't look bad on you.

If it's hot, all you have to do is go bare.

That you have a big stomach is of no concern to you when you have to wear your swimming trunks.

If you get a ticket while driving, no one says, "obviously... male driver"

If you ask where the brakes and accelerator are in a new country and a new car, you are not ridiculed.

You don't have to worry about some piece, any piece, of clothing being transparent.

When you binge eat, you do not entertain and welcome thoughts of throwing up.

You don't call it binge eating.

It's ok if you forget small details and dates.

If someone asks you if you have a child, you can easily get away with, "Not that I know of.."

You don't have to bother about bleeding.

Or not bleeding.

You don't have to worry about what the eff are Manolos and Burnheck, Burnbeck? Burnham? uhhh.

There's more I can add to this list, but considering that this is a family place, I'll keep the mouse in the house ( wink for those who understood that), but if you want to add any, be my ~~guest~~ commentor.

Random jokes at 3 in the night..

2008-02-25T04:21:00.002-05:00

Pal: I love Paki singers..

DhUm: Youtube is banned there..

Pal: Why is the song not playing??

Pause

Me: Because youtube is banned there?

----

Pal: Why is the video quality so bad?

Piks: Because it's coming from a place where it is banned?

Pal: ...

We are studying while this conversation is played out. We are crazy. I know. :)

Don't tear it up.. please..

2008-02-24T18:17:00.004-05:00

You hold out a paper with your thumb and index finger. You clasp it tight. And then the train starts, at full speed, rushing past every tree, light pole, building, and glass structure. Rushing past some stations too. Then stops at one station, a slight pause, but the momentum is gained back.
And the paper is fluttering crazily in the continuous, fast and strong wind.

Sometimes the paper falls out of your hand, but sometimes you can hold on to the paper. No matter what.
Trust is like that piece of fluttering paper. Held just as gently between your heart and your brain. But once it goes out of your hands, another paper, just does not feel like the old one. Or it's really really difficult to find that piece of paper which flew with the wind. Difficult but not impossible.

And I hope that day never comes when that paper is just torn into bits.. and flung into the wind..

And no matter how much I love the wind, the heady gush of wind in a fast train, I hope till my last breath that the people I trust do not let go.. It's a crumbling feeling, getting all too familiar to me..

You. Just you.

2008-02-20T01:04:00.005-05:00

Just read this.. and no matter how clichéd it sounds, try to look beyond the words and the lyrics..
(the {very brief} post follows this, but do read through it to reach the post. Say it out loud if you can.)

Na hai yeh paana,
Na khona hi hai..
Tera na hona, jaane...
Kyu hona hi hai

Tum se hi din hota hai,
Surmayi shaam aati hai,
Tum se hi, tum se hi
Har ghadi saans aati hai
Zindagi kehlati hai,
Tum se hi, tum se hi..

Aankhon mein aankhen teri
Bahon mein bahon teri
Mera na mujh mein kuch raha..
Hua kya..

Baaton mein baatein teri
Raatein saugatein teri
Kyu tera sab yeh ho gaya..
Hua kya..

Mein kahi bhi jaata hoon
Tum se hi mil jaata hoon
Tum se hi.. Tum se hi..
Shor mein khamoshi hain
Thodi si behoshi hai
Tum se hi, tum se hi..

Aadha sa vaada kabhi
Aadhe se zyaada kabhi
Ji chahe karlu is tarah..
Wafa ka..

Chode na choote kabhi
Tode na toote kabhi
Jo dhaaga tum se jud gaya..
Wafa ka..

Main tera sarmaya hoon
Jo bhi main ban paaya hoon
Tum se hi, tum se hi..
Raaste mil jaate hai
Manzile mil jaati hai
Tum se hi, tum se hi..

Na hai yeh paana,
Na khona hi hai..
Tera na hona, jaane..
Kyu hona hi hai

I know its a romantic song. But it is not the stereotypical romantic song. I know it is a song written to make everyone who hears this identify with it. But for some reason, this song is so much more. So much more.

I know I could paste the youtube link here for you to see the song too, but the beauty of the filmed song is a different thing altogether. (And I know everyone can look it up on youtube, if everyone wants to see it.)

I know that no one really will want to respond to this post, but this truly is a post of passion. Written with all that goes on in my mind while this song plays in the background and I write down the lyrics.

Because copying and pasting the lyrics from some site, would just not do justice to what I feel for this song.

A life lost..

2008-02-13T02:33:00.003-05:00

I see my updates in Orkut telling me that you have put up more pictures...

I click on the smaller-than-thumbnail picture so that I directly go to your album. I do that very deliberately. Carefully. I don't want to be redirected to your profile so that my visit shows up on page.

You nic says that you recently went to Goa. Your pictures show you there. With your hair flying, in a sleek sleeveless top. Note: a top not a Tee-shirt. Remember how we always used to crib that we were both too guyish. You look pretty and pretty darn girlish in the tank. Your hair is open too. Something you never did then.

I see other pictures. One's that I have already seen, the last time I visited your album. I see pictures of you celebrating someone's birthday, a diwali party in the office, a pajama party at someone's place, a classy party in a hotel and then there is a picture of four other people who you claim you can't live without.

I am not there. I am just in your friend's list. Probably added under the category of "Don't Know Too Well". Probably added just because I sent you the request. All we have exchanged till now on Orkut is a Hi. One word.

Behind that word hides the million conversations we once had. The cell phone bills we used to drive up, even when incoming was not free. The way you taught me statistics and the way I taught you logic and English. The way we discussed that guy who looked like a Greek God and smiled at me sometimes. The way you oohed and aahed at a typical Rahul. The way you covered up for me when I made that mistake. And that's it.

That mistake ripped my life. But I have accepted that. What is still difficult to accept is that it took away my friend from me. Just because her Mom thought I was not a good enough girl, while once she adored me and fawned over me. And because my Mom thought that you were a liar to cover for me. We were both at fault, but those were mistakes teenagers often do.

But it has carried on to our adulthood. I don't know what type of a person you are today. But you are someone I still sorely miss. Not as an everyday presence, but as a support. As the one person who backed me and told me that "If you think this is love, then I will back you through everything so that you are happy."

I hope you think of me tis wistfully too. I hope you miss our friendship too. I hope I am not asking for too much.

Understanding Irrelevance..

2008-02-11T18:27:00.001-05:00

19 or 20 year old me would have definitely killed me had she known I would say this in the future..

Today I realized something really important. Something that has been important to me all my life, but I only understood it now.

You know how we always curse those extra classes we take in college? Economics in Computer Engineering college, Accounts in Advertising college, Feminism in Urban Planning college, Hindi in Science college, E-Commerce in Mechanical Engineering, Great Social Thinkers in Civil Engineering, Sociology in Aerospace Engineering. The list goes on.

One of these were my cribs too. I am sure everyone can account for at the least one subject in their college years which were absolutely ridiculous. Or so it seemed then.

Today after attending a class on sexually violent video games, I realized, that understanding these studies, researches, people's way of thinking, deciphering, deriving is an understanding process too. Struggling to understand a research over the span of the entire night, with anatomical jargon, terms and biological measures, I realized that I did not hate this. I liked it. I liked the fact that I was studying something that did not do anything directly to my career field, but it contributed to my knowledge base, to the library within me I call intelligence. To helping me form more credible, and valued opinions.

I remember being asked when I was 19 what I wanted to be in my life. I had said, "Knowledgable and wise. Well read and someone who has a holistic understanding of whatever is being discussed."

I am not there yet, but I realize that reading about P300 amplitude in Brain Functions and applying it to advertising and every other thing I can think about, is what will get me there. For a start.

I know this is not my normal style of a post, but its a thought. A very valuable thought for me, and that's what this blog is here for. To record my thoughts, even after I don't last, which I actually meant as a record of thoughts once I cease to exist. And I aimed to achieve the exact same thing with that. Have a record of my thoughts, opinions, dreams, ideas and emotions.

Us...

2008-02-10T03:14:00.000-05:00

It's like different pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, which has a way of falling in place.

It's like a complicated game of Sudoku, which has a way of all just fitting in together.

Its like a beautiful song, where each word and sentence are written to complete the whole.

It's like a a strong coil of rope, where each individual strand is inter-twined.

It's like looking around you, and knowing, this is right. This is real.

It's like looking up at a comment passed by someone else, and knowing that all of us are thinking the exact same extension to that thought.

It's like reaching a point where its all about pulling through, and we do it together, for the love of each other.

~~It's like~~

It IS family. My Family here.

For once, I wished Pal would actually go ahead and start her blog, so that you could read her version of it, because trust me, when she writes, she floors the reader. And for once, I really really really wish Dhum would let his words come out to us, for I know he has worded his thoughts, and his thoughts, are beautiful, way beyond beautiful. His words can be magic, and would be magic for me.
And I am so glad, so so so glad that Pik has written this. It shows how the entire episode was processed in his brain.

But all of these would show just the tip of the iceberg of their thoughts, and the rest? is just for our gumbal to scuba-dive and explore.

Yes, I deleted the last post

2008-02-08T12:23:00.001-05:00

Not in randomness. I deleted it after sleeping over it. I deleted it after coming to face with facts. After accepting it all.

And realizing that there are people around me doing more of the accepting than me. Because they are accepting me with all my flaws.

Beginnings - Vikram

2008-02-07T02:40:00.000-05:00

"Bhaiya, I want to study in U.S.A too", Vicky bounced the table-tennis's ball across the wall as his brother cleaned his closet out.
"Yeah Vic, but not now. Complete your bachelors here. You can do your Master's in U.S.A"
"But why Bhaiya, I want to get out of this place. I hate the system here, the teachers are pathetic and Mom-Dad just don't understand"
"No Vic, what you will learn here, you will never learn there. Trust me", Ranjit replied.

Vikram shrugged away. He hated being here. He couldn't wait until he completed his 12th and then finished his engineering so that he could fly away from here too. He would probably do Master's in Computer Science and specialize in Networking.

"You enrolling for GRE classes, man?", Hayden asked Vic.
"Definitely. I shouldn't have done a BMS, yaar, this way I have forgotten all my maths, and english is fu---, I mean screwed anyway."
"So why are you avoiding abusing again?" asked Hayden. Abuses were a part of his conjunctions.
"Because, my parents don't like it all that much. And I don't see the use too you know.. Anyway, where are you thinking of applying?
"I was thinking maybe UK, you know.. MBA's from UK are pretty well recognized, and they just need my TOEFL or IELTS scores.."

Vic got through the University of London effortlessly. The thought of London excited him, but for some reason, the thought of going there for so long, was, still not sinking in.
He had been reading up on everything about London, ridiculously expensive, ridiculously snobbish, unbelievably beautiful and really good-looking girls. Lots of Indians. He joined all the yahoo groups for students going to University of London.

He was ready. His mother was packing his bags, his aunt was making all his favorite sweets, his cousins had gifted him watches, and leather pouches and belts and wallets. His friends were running around, last minute errands. His bestfriend, Nita was leaving for the airport this minute. Her flight to Chicago was within a few hours and he couldn't even go to drop her. His flight was after 2 days.

"Vic, here. The last pair of contact lenses in your number, man"
"Hayden, one last favor?"
"Yea dude"
"Call me Vikram please. Always"

Counting the Kilos..

2008-02-03T18:35:00.000-05:00

Seven days, and two meals consumed. And counting... the days.

This is a confession. And this is an awakening. I hope.

When I was a teen, around 17 years old, I wanted to look good for someone. I had read a lot about people who ate and puked it out, then they wouldn't put on weight. I tried that twice. I gave it up after that. I think. I don't remember trying it more than twice.

As a kid I was skinny (that's what all over-weight people say I think). Around the beginning of my teens, I started putting on weight. No particular reason. I was FAT when I passed out of school, chubby when I was in junior college. I started gymming seriously then. I had already enrolled in Talwalkar's after school. I needed to lose the extra 15 kgs on me. Everyone said I was fat. My neighbor, pesky as she is, once told me, "I saw you from my balcony when you were coming yesterday and you looked like a full circle."

The gym helped me lose slowly. I had lost around 4 kgs in a year and a half. In 12th, I fasted for 8 days, no food, only water. I lost 8 kgs. I was at my perfect weight. I looked good, really good. A model bloke was interested in me. It did not do wonders for my self-confidence but it was assurance that I was not fat anymore.

Under grad at Nationals. I had to regain that weight sometime. I slowly put on weight, a few kgs not much. I was still not too bad. Summer came, and my Mom is the world's best cook. Really. I went through a horrible time. Depression, lies, deceit, and the wrong guy. I put on weight. I had a best friend, Mr. Pilot, who thought I did not eat enough. I put on weight. All over again, I was 5 to 6 kgs over weight. I gymmed some more. Like crazy. I lost some more.

I was riding on a pendulum. I put on weight, lost some more. Put on some more, lost a little. My confidence was not that bad. I started drawing a line between self confidence, body image, and weight issues. But I had an eraser in my hand all the while.

One comment about not looking good, looking fat, and I was tempted to, and did many a times, erase that line.

One day, someone I did not know too well said, "Are you dieting? Please don't believe in that rubbish, you are fine the way you are." That took me a little by surprise. I was not dieting, but I was avoiding food which had excess calories.

All through BMM I used to avoid food I did not need. I used to urge Pri to lose a little bit of weight because I knew she would look beautiful if she did. When I was not overweight, I would love my state of having no tyres or love handles.

Grad School in Illinois. First few months alone. Wrong kind of food. Soda. It's not a good combination. I was putting on weight. I realized, and I stopped the wrong kind of food. I went to visit my aunt in Chicago. Home food, and the Gujarati custom of "Agr", its when the person who has cooked almost pleads you to eat. And eat. And eat.

I put on unimaginable amount of weight. All of a sudden I was back to square one. 15 kgs over weight. I was not too bothered about it. I thought I could push the weight off. I had enough encouragement from Mom, Bro, Pal and Pri to get started with it.

Once I came back on campus, I could control my weight and diet. The day I came back on campus, I was too exhausted to eat anything. The next day, there was so much to do! The day after that, I was just not in the mod. Th day after, I was good on coffee. 5 days, and no solid meal. I finally felt hungry enough to eat a meal, but I was outside. Shopping.

Subway sandwich. Lite Mayo, no-fat sweet onion. Half a sandwich actually. As soon as I finished the meal, my system started on a weird drive. I was feeling guilty. I felt guilty all night, and all day. Did not eat anything the next day. A cup of milk, no fat. The next day, dinner at Pals. Ate a little. Felt full. I swear I thought about taking a second helping. But my brain would not let me do it. And today. Coffee in the morning, and a cup of No fat yogurt.

I know what I am doing is wrong. I know that my body needs the food. I know that I am hungry. I know that I am not cooking because I am hungry, since I can't cook on an empty stomach. I keep convincing myself to eat a little bit. A little morsel, if nothing else. Just a little bit. But, it's not working.

I did not write this blog to declare a food disorder. I did not write it to receive shitty comments. I wrote because that seems to be my last solution. The last way to convince myself to acknowledge a problem. To face it. Writing has always been therapeutic for me. I am hoping it will work this time too. It took me a lot of guts to write this. To be able to admit it here. To push that button "Publish Post" which is a bright orange below my blog's body window. And I hope you guys acknowledge that.

Beginning with Anuja

2008-01-16T15:41:00.000-05:00

"Pratibhaji, she is brilliant. What can I tell you about her. I am so glad she continued in this school even though you took up St. Lawrence High"

Anuja had always been an intelligent child, after all she was the vice-principal's daughter, but Pratibhaji wanted to see how Anuja would do if she was left to study by herself, without any help from her. And Anuja had again portrayed her true capabilities.

She had been studying day and night. She felt good about it. She was sure she would ace her final BMS exams, and be a Merit ranker. Once these exams got over, she had to start studying for her IELTS. Yeah, people kept saying it was easier than the exams for American Universities. She did not want to go abroad at all. But her mom was pretty charged up about it, she had even announced to Anuja that she had all their finances arranged for her studies ahead.

Getting into the University of Bedfordshire was a convoluted process. At times she thought she got through, and had been accepted into the MBA program, at times she thought they were ready to reject her. Another person from her class had gotten through London University already. Vikram was almost set to leave too.

She was sick of all the shopping, all the aunts and uncles making a big deal out of her leaving the country. She was sick of the million envelopes she got stuffed with money. She wasn't even going to be using rupees anymore.

She checked into the airport, with 2 bags and her laptop bag. "Beta, come outside after your check-in..", her mother whispered into her ear motioning across to the 20 or so relatives who were there to bid her goodbye. She warned her mother that she would not come out after check in or whatever it was that she was waiting for.

After checking in her bags, and security, she sat on one of those blue plastic-cushion seats. She put her laptop bag on her lap, put her arms around it, and put her head down. And then Anuja cried, and cried hard. For all her dreams she was leaving behind. And for new beginnings without being herded.

Do you smile? Really?

2008-01-16T01:01:00.000-05:00

"It's been more than a fortnight and you haven't blogged!"

"Kya kar rahi hai ab? Nothing? Peaacee.. go blog.."

"Have you written something? no? Have you written something?"

Three of my most faithful readers I guess. I haven't written in the last few days.. infact, I haven't even visited this page. I don't know why.

A couple of months ago, RM asked me a weird question, her motive for asking it was just to put me down, but anyway, here it is, "Why are you so insecure?" Now if you know me, you should know that this is a big deal for me. One, being asked such a question, and two, putting it up here. Opening myself to the million critiques and judgment that are going to pass through the mind of all you people out there, and no, don't deny it, you are going to judge me on this one question, someone who is anti-me has asked me.

Ahaa.. so if RM thinks she is insecure, she probably is. No wonder, she hates RM... etc, etc.

Hold your horses, RM said that because my status message on gtalk was "Meine dil se kaha.. dhoondh lana khushi..", and she had just been explained the meaning of this song.

My status messages on Gtalk are normally what my mood dictates. So I was kinda glum that day. One day my status can say things like "Oranges should not be eaten alone" and another day it can be "Happy happy happy, HAPPY days are here again", and sometimes just a plain, "Discombobulated". This in no way means I am depressed, or that I am insecure. It means, that I am a normal person (according to my standards) ( and I like my standards, thank you very much) and I have normal moods and ups and downs. And because I have downs, I know how good ups can be.

I am not one of those people who will always smile, even when they are grimacing inside, they are not even smiling really because a real smile can be just inside, and has to be inside too. I will grimace, frown at you and not just do it inside. I am not those bubbly, quirky, chirpy people who light up the place like sunshine wherever they are. I prefer my sarcastic barbs more anyday. I will not leave people with them thinking, "Wow, she is so sweet and caring", probably, you will be left wondering what the hell happened after I am done with. Ask Pik. He still remembers my first few lines to him, which were absolutely instinctive but not sweet and sugary from any angle.

I do NOT go about flashing my moods to everyone. But I do know for a fact, that there are a number of people on my gtalk list who roll their mouse over my name just to see what the status message says. To make sense of it, and smile. I know some, and I know that I do that too, for other people I know who keep insightful status messages. Which make me go hmmmm..

So I am asking this of you now. I throw the question out to debate, is it weird, insecure, depressing behaviour to acknowledge your bad mood and not suppress it? To be able to say, "Hey, I am in an effed up mood today, watch out."I would think that the eternally and artificially smiling kinds would be the insecure ones.. too insecure to be able to express themselves.

And for what it's worth, I refuse to ever have just a lame smiley as my status message, along with being unoriginal it is absolutely fake. You do not smile all the time really, why fake it.

Drafting the year gone past..

2007-12-31T12:46:00.000-05:00

January, bought in the year with deciding that I would go to USA for grad school. Well, actually deciding it for sure in my mind. Had already don't the applications. It was just a decision made for my mind to start shifting into going mode. Dint shift into that mode anyway. Exactly this time last year, I was with my brother. I miss him. He is where I was last year, while I am.. well.. here.
Also, being my blogs birthday month, it got a new stat counter. It gets tougher to give gifts to children when they are growing up you know? Maybe this post, will be one.

February, Went to the blogger's meet, realized that the community was great, but did I really fit in? really?
Wrote a post with 20 random facts about me. But I figured no one would want to read it so left it in the drafts folder.
Made my second film. Loved every minute of making it, shooting it, shooting for Puneet's film and slogging over the music.

March, a respected, older journalist, trashed all blogs and bloggers. Got my blood boiling. I bought out all my guns and wrote a gunpowder coated post on it. Saved it in my drafts. I did not think anyone would want to hear me scream, plus, would the blog world really stand behind me. Also would the journalist even read it?
I still haven't visited Savannah yet, you know, from the Tantrum I threw.
Plus, put on five kilograms - dangerously close to getting out of right weight bracket and into overweight. Actually already a couple kilos into overweight bracket, but blissfully denying it. Oh and blog got recent comments widget because of a very benevolent, but media shy reader, AnonEcon, along with a new sister, Dreaming Through A Spyglass which has been largely inactive.

April, saw Namesake and Class of '84, with awesome people/bloggers. Applied some more, got rejected from my Top Priority University, and accepted from some other place called the University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign (Who wants to go there anyway??) Mom made lovely achars at home.. bottles and bottles of pickles. I blogged about it. With pictures and recipes, but figured that no one would want to read a post about the pickle-expert that my mom is.. Drafts folder it is.

May, Summercamp time!!! Absolute dhamaal, stress because there were 85 children instead of 50. 8 songs, 8 different dance forms and costumes for all the 8 dances. After the Finale Stage show is over, I have to decide on which university I do want finally. Erm.. University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign it is.

June, Jats is here!! Yay!! Fulto Dhamaal, between his busy schedule. Three movies a day, coffees, conversations, morning walks, night walks, and beach. Oh the beach, our sanctuary. But before that, I had my last first rain experience.. in May!!
Also a fellow blogger and me had an interesting conversation on how blogging to has been commercialized, and I poured my thoughts on this, a lot of them they are, into a post. But really, who am I to comment on this issue. I am not even a popular bloggers or a semi celebrity blogger. Should I really do it then. Nah.. so it just ended up being a draft. Got the horrendous dental surgery done on me. I should call it Dental Construction because of the way the doc was hammering my tooth down, all without an anesthesia too. SO was mouthless for a couple of weeks.
Also, RESULTS!! I will never forget that day. Never, ever. It's not everyday that I top the university. Yes, I'm bragging, forgive me for it?
Also, Visa interview. Almost did not want to get the visa, got it anyway. The last hurdle crossed. Ready to fly. Quite an eventful month.

July, Chintan Bhai's birthday month!! Tried a post that would look into my future. But c'mon. Who am I kidding? Who wants to read that shit. Drafts. Left India intime for Bro's birthday. Got his a shiny GPS babe as a birthday gift. In case you din't know it even yet, that was MY idea!! Philly is beautiful. Where my brother lives is a beautiful house, and he drives a shiny black car. I knew all that already, but the last time I had come to US I hadn't gotten to see his house and how he lives. Three weeks with him before back to school...

August, wrote a blog about the million new things I did since I came to the US, and about the million misconceptions people have about US. Myths, realities and perspectives. Sounded very freshie to me. In the drafts folder it went. Set up a new home, a new identity, met all the desis in my university. Hated some, who went on to become my closest friends, liked some, who went on to a different world altogether.. Fierce loyalty for RM existed at that point of time, while Sam warned me, "She is not at all what she looks like. Beware". Took it with a pinch of salt. Uneventful birthday, a little sad even. But am quite used to sad birthdays by now. Classes begin. Only Indian in my entire department, and college. They can not believe that an Indian would want to get into Media and Advertising. Nice.. Hunt for assistantship and jobs also is on in full swing. Got a job, dishwasher. Took it in spite of my family not wanting it. Not an eventful month, but a lot of things happened.. If you get what I mean..

September, got a job as a writer with the yearbook of my University. Honored. Became a busy Grad student tackling two jobs, two researches and three classes. Also, making friends, knowing people. Got close to DA, had a lot of fun. Meanwhile, the Gumbal was being built. Strong. Found my support system, fought against it, but loved it all.

October, things were getting worse with RM. Hated the politics played with DA as a center. Got in the way, ruined the friendship with DA quite a bit. It upset me the first time it happened, the second time, I had stopped caring. Was getting used to it. Also, FALL!! Beautiful colors, beautiful leaves and beautiful weather. Started a fall color collection at home. Job going on as usual, but suddenly I realized that all the Pasta, Sprite and Desserts I was having at my job everyday was not helping me at all. Had put on 3 kgs, 8 pounds!!! No Pasta from now on, and no Sprite. Erm, dessert was an indulgence allowed.

November, wrote a post on the two jobs I was doing. Two ends of a spectrum. One very prestigious, another, manual, unskilled labor. I realized Mom and possibly Pri would not like my talking about it on a public place, so I posted it, but then condemned it to Drafts. Fell in love, with three people while things with DA reached a terrible state. Slogged like crazy for final papers. Also, lost 2 or maybe 3 pounds.

December, first few days, harried with work. Then, ultimate relaxation. Finished all pending work, did my bills, accounts. Patched things to a civil degree with DA. Cooked all that I wanted to try for Pinks, Pal and Dhoom. Saw a couple of movies I wanted to catch up with. Packed for Chicago and LA trip. A day before leaving for holidays, got the news that I had received an assistantship. Awesome!! University funding me.. paying me big bucks. Finally got dream job and dream life that I had been hoping for everyday. Maybe there is someone who listens to you. Chicago - Home food finally, lovely soft, white rotis, shaak, dal, rice, brownies, sev puris, mm.. lovely. 4 days in Chicago, I put on 6 pounds. Aw shucks. LA - Home. In USA. Having fun runnning once in a while, doing housework, helping masi around the kitchen, making fun of cousins, rolling and coasting on the world's scariest roller-coasters. Suddenly realized from my pictures, that I am at my fattest I have ever been. Infact, I have surpassed that line too. Shit!! Need to lose weight.

Conclusion, less of Drafts if possible. If I am writing about something, and writing the entire thing out, then it definitely should be worth it. Right?
Also, I dont believe in new year's resolutions, but I AM going to lose weight. 15 pounds. 7 kgs, if possible, then more, like 20 pounds or 10 kgs. I will do it. Have done it once before, can do it now. Two, will live a fuller life, more fun, more time, more love.

P.S : I know its a really long post, and I was almost tempted to put it in the drafts folder too, but enough of hiding my posts. I hope. If anyone wants any of those drafts to be put up, and you think you would read it, let me know. Will post it then probably.
Also, lurkers, readers, non-commenting readers and active readers, if anyone has any opinion on these drafts, or anything under the sun at all, feel free.

Enjoy the New Year people!!

Taare Zameen Par - Stars Shine Down..

2007-12-27T00:00:00.000-05:00

When I was in Std. II A, there was a guy who sat behind me. Jay Shah. He was tall, lanky, and had shaggy hair that fell all over his face. He lived five buildings away from me and traveled in the same bus. His Mom used to tell me all the time to sit with him more, spend my lunches with him and "influence" him.

He had failed in second grade twice.

His mom used to take my books to complete his classwork. He could never pay attention in class and was always more interested in random, arbit things. The teacher used to go crazy explaining sums and words and sentences to him. He could never recite the poetry. Never paint a picture complete. I thought of him as a friend in the beginning. I would try to explain things to him, finish his pictures, recite poetry to him. I gave up when he failed again. I moved to the next class. III A. He left school. I saw him on my street a few times. We would excitedly talk the first couple of times. Then, it was just a wave. And then we went our way. I heard he was shifted to a "Special School".

Since the first grade, there was another guy in my class. Very bright. Always sat in the first bench. Not a ranker, but intelligent. Slow, but smart. He had some physical handicap. But his mother pushed him. He graduated from school with the rest of us. Apparently, he went to science college, and graduated with a BSc. I do not know here he is, but I see him around in the Social Networking forums. He recently added me on all of those, and on GChat and more.

He looks like he is successful in whatever he is doing.

Taare Zameen Par is about one child a little more than that. A child with a serious learning disability, which no one seems to recognize and which the Indian Schooling system pegs down as mischief, naughtiness and arrogance combined with laziness and a lack of willingness to learn.
It talks about Inu, Ishaan Awasthi, his unchanneled, unbridled intelligence. But the teachers in his school, his father and even his mother to an extent do not see it. When they look at him all they see is a failure and a dumb child.

Aamir Khan, as Ram Nikumbh, his new art teacher sees his potential, and identifies with it, because he too was a dyslexic student, misunderstood by his parents as a kid. Nikumbh turns the boy's life around and shows everyone his potential.

Taare Zameen Par, is a must watch. It's a little slow in the beginning, but picks up lace once Aamir arrives (obviously). The boy, Darshan Zhaveri, I think, has a very few lines in the entire film. Maybe that's why he manages to pull out such a stellar job. Too many dialogues would have ruined his character. The mother, Tisca Chopra, and the elder son, were very believable and acted really well. The father was probably chosen to play this part because of his very fatherly, and ugly looks. Ishaan's friend Rajan was a characted well played too.

All in all, a colorful movie, with beautiful songs, lovely acting and a touching story. And a movie dedicated to Jay Shah, wherever he is. And the second guy's success.

This place is called Bliss

2007-12-19T17:53:00.000-05:00

I have written four posts on my assistantship. Newly gained assistantship. But for some reason they are all lying in my drafts folder. Everytime I after I finishing writing, I would say, "I don't want to talk about this." And off it would go to my drafts folder.

There is no other way to say it. I got an assistantship. A tuition waiver, which means that the university pays my fees, and I get paid a crazily huge sum of money each month for 20 hours of work a week. It IS an UNBELIEVABLE situation.

I did not, so did not, expect to get this job. Suddenly it sounds like those words I used to mouth daily, to I don't know who, were being heard. This last semester, I have literally, LITERALLY, been talking to myself (?) or someone I have no idea of (???), saying just the same thing over and over again, "Please give me an assistantship. Please give me one." And lo, at the end of the sem I got it.

Also, I'm in LA now. At my Masi's place. I am working out, (or have started to), and doing home stuff. Am eating just as much as I want, not being forced to eat more, and am with my Second Mom. My Masi. It feels like home. Added benefit - There is a Sun here!! Which makes the weather about 20 degrees brighter!! Which I love!!

It's generally a good time. Maybe it's the christmas cheer. Maybe it's just the goodness of life. Good moods all the time, happiness everywhere and family around me. Ahh, Bliss is where I am folks!!

Addictions

2007-12-16T01:17:00.000-05:00

Things change, and time is relative about the change. I was in this place, Chicago, at my aunt's place three years ago. 2004. I was a mere 18 years old then. Mature in some ways, but still dependent on anger and tantrums.
My camera's batteries died out.. and I wanted new ones. I wanted to be able to capture every magical moment I was spending here. I really wanted to. And I have this thing about cameras and wanting to keep clicking away. I kept askign for batteries for two days and no one would get me any. Being in a new country with a different currency and a different way of shopping and behaving.. I couldn't even just go out on my own and get some batteries. Tired and angry, finally on the third day I erupted. I threw a huge kickass tantrum. HUGE. I just went from an adorable teenager to a sulky child.

My anger was justified, but my tantrum was not. Today when I look back, all I can remember is that silly stupid crying me, throwing a tantrum at the Baha'i Temple in Chicago, refusing to talk to anyone. I am with the same people today. Alone. No parents, no elder brother. And suddenly I realize that maybe they identify me with that tantrum too now. That's the mark I left on them. If the same thing happened today, I would get angry.. and then shut up.

Pal keeps asking me to yell or say something when I am pissed off. But I cant. There are very few people in front of whom I blow off my steam, because they are the only ones who can handle it.

My mom, Chintanbhai, Sneha, Tag, PRi and once upon a time, Mr. Pilot. Don't get me wrong, I have other very very precious friends too. But somehow the anger just does not come in front of them. I just eat it up. And that's how it should be. I should know when to bite my anger up and be mature about the situation.

That's why I like growing up. The change within me. The change in my way of looking at things, my perspective if you will. The change in my way of looking at the world. The change in the way I react to situations. The change in the way I think. Because I think.

It's as addictive to me as writing is. Thinking.

She never existed..

2007-12-01T04:43:00.000-05:00

What happened to the girl who never thought before doing, saying or wanting anything? When did people start telling her that you think too much..

What happened to the girl who had supreme confidence in her skills and talent? When did she start fearing her own karmabhoomi so much that she wouldn't touch it with a barge pole..

What happened to the girl who was the center of all parties? When did she start hating, abhorring attention..

What happened to the girl who firmly believed in love, and knew it would happen at the right time? When did she start believing that she did not deserve love and there was no way in hell anyone would even think of her that way..

What happened to the girl who had all the traits of growing up into a teenage girl, young girl and a woman? When did she start thinking that she was just not good enough to ever be considered a woman..

What happened to the girl who looked in the mirror and loved what she saw?

She Never Existed at all...

Our perceptions of beauty are very surreal, framed and conditioned by a society who wants perfection and rejects anything else. And the outer appearance counts for so much that the inner person starts hating herself for what she does not look like, even though everytime she visualizes herself, its someone different. And everytime she sees the mirror she realized that she was not what she thought and visualized herself to be. She did not have that sculpted jaw line, well defined cheek bones or even the large almond shaped eyes.

Everytime she went to an interview, met someone important, she thought why the hell would they be interested in whats up, down, right or left in my life.. Because she did not look like a star, she assumed they would immediately reject her, they definitely wanted pretty people in their offices.

Because all the while.. She did not exist at all..

Cross-Posted at http://tangentialthinking.wordpress.com/

Warning: This is a rant!!

2007-11-30T01:13:00.000-05:00

Yes, you have been forewarned.. DO NOT COMPLAIN if you still read this.

Ok. Now that we have that cleared..

I just do NOT understand life. Or people. Or people-politics. Or people's behaviors. Or my room mate. Yea, I am back there again. I had been resisting all this while. I had promised myself and my dear blog that I will not whine or complain about RM anymore. Because someone tried to preach to me about how I was being unfair about talking about her publicly where she could not defend herself. I kept trying to clarify that really, its not like I hate her. It's just that we do not share the same comfort level, but I was still preached at. Anyway, I had decided even before that, that I am not going to turn into a whiny blogger (which it looks like I am turning into) and whine about something as uninteresting, dull and boring as a flatmate.

But it so happens, that DA and me have stopped talking altogether now. Because of RM. I had accepted that. Chalked it up as his loss. I had really convinced myself that if he got lured into her behavior and preferred that to my friendship, then its absolutely not my fault and that sometime in his future he would look back and repent. I was actually giving myself some credit for once. He said that when we were together, like him, me and RM, there was a "Clash" between the two of us which made him feel butchered between us. And he chose to just get distant because of that. His loss.

And now, she just very sweetly told me that a group of our seniors, who we are both very friendly with. And who I thought considered both of us as a part of them, called her today and asked her if she wanted to eat dinner at a restaurant in Mahomet. I really do not mind if she dines with a million people. But, I thought we were both at an equal foot there. In fact, if nothing, I have worked for them more than she has.
Ever been friends with a group of people and then suddenly realized that the group asked your roommate to join them for dinner and not you?

I seriously think that something is wrong with me now. Like maybe I have horns on my head, or maybe I really look so bad that when compared to the person who lives in the same flat as me, she is anyday better. I am NOT jealous. I am just mildly hurt. Really.

Because if I was terribly hurt I would probably not go to the mass party they are having tomorrow. Where they have sent a mass email out to everyone and asked them to come with booze and snacks.

You know what hurts more? Just a little more, not too much, mind you. Even I can't see through that bloody face everytime its on. Its just later when she tells me stuff like, yeah they asked me out for dinner, I realize, "Hey!! I am being excluded from here too now!!"

And thats exactly what happened with DA. I tried telling him that I feel like I am excluded when I am with him and RM, but he said it was just because of the clash between RM and me. So has this so called "clash" between us been at work even when I was not around and she was?

A few day ago, Dhum aked me how I can bear living with this. I can't really. Everyday my mum tells me to get out of this situation. To call its quits. But everyday, there is something new. Yesterday, she was out all day, today she was sleeping all day and tomorrow she will be sick all day. And that's how it keeps going on. And between all this, the "clash" is apparently working..

And that party tomorrow? I am definitely not going. Playing cards with Dhum, Pal, and Pik is so much more fun than being looked at as a side kick or just an additional person.

Thanks Guys. For being there.

And for any of you who did read this till the end, thanks for putting up with it. I just hope you dont think I am a b##ch because of this. Don't judge me on my rants. Please.

The starred abuse is because my Mom reads my Blog. Remember?

The circle of trust..

2007-11-20T06:45:00.001-05:00

I have repeatedly said that I never had friends through my undergrad years in Mithibai and BMM. And then not in MCJ too. None except the few who insisted on sticking to me.

Today I will explain why.

I have always had a problem with trusting people. This is a convoluted sort of a problem. I trust people too easily, and because I know that, I have learnt to not trust them with my feelings, thoughts and opinions. And experiences. I have had the most outrageous, adventurous and even stupidest of experiences in my little life till now. And it is difficult to trust people with them because you do not know what kind of impressions they will form because of it.

So I prefer letting people think that I am this stupid, care-a-shit, blunt, and maybe egoistic female. I had a bunch of people who I trusted implicitly, and I did not see why I would need to trust anyone more.

In my first few days in US, I had decided that I will drop this attitude, I will be who I really am. No defenses. But they kicked in automatically.

"What's the problem there babe?" Div asked.
"I just can't trust anyone div. I don't want to voice my thoughts or opinions. I keep thinking that I have you guys for that, right?"
"That's stupid, raags", she said, "these are your people now. Trust them. Love them. Unless you take the plunge, you will never be an involved person."

I listened to her. I somehow opened up to Dhum. He was one of the first few people I spoke with, and spoke a lot with.

Then, slowly, I got close to another friend. Let's call this friend Deshi American (DA). He spoke a lot about his life, we had long conversations. But I wouldn't open up to him. I wouldn't talk to him about my life. DA kept asking me why I did not talk to him, why I did not open up to him. And I said I don't know. I could feel my brain telling me, its because you don't trust him with your thoughts, opinions, ideas and feelings. But I could trust Dhum with it. But not DA. Dunno why.

DA and me are not close anymore. He has suddenly become very close to RM. And I find myself being glad about the fact that I never trusted him with my thoughts, because I definitely do not trust RM with it. And DA has become annoyingly formal with me since he has grown closer to RM. I can NOT take formalities within friendship.

And I have another beautiful friend. Pal. She is simple, straight-forward, caring, trust me implicitly and I am slowly realizing that I trust her implicitly too. And I have realized that I miss her presence if I don't meet her for more than a couple of days.

And there is Pik, he is the third dimension of my brother and Veeru. He is just someone who can be trusted implicitly. He is someone who will talk about everything to me. He is someone who, while watching a movie, will suddenly sigh and say, "I want to see you with a boyfriend, Pragni". And then looking at my baffled expression he will pass a stupid comment lightening the moment.

I cannot not mention Petrovski. He is not on campus yet. I know I probably shouldn't trust him that much. But I do. We have a very informal friendship. He is very easy to talk to, to trust. He actually exercises his rights on me as a friend, which is a sure shot way of gaining brownie points with me. I feel like wanting to make his transition to U of I as easy as possible. Telling him everything that I would have loved to know before I got here. I want to be able to make the smooth transition to a real friendship with him. He started blogging after reading my blog. Which, is a huge honor for me, really. Every time he thinks about getting an apartment, he asks me if I see myself hanging out there once he comes. And I think that is the cutest thing possible. He is not really a part of the circle, but somehow I already associate him with us.

I have realized that next year, I am taking an apartment near Dhum and Pal, just so that, even though I'll be living alone, I will be with my these few people I trust implicitly. These are also the only few people on my campus who know that I blog. That's a different thing that only Dhum and Petrovski reads.

I hope to goodness's sake that nothing happens to all of us. That nothing touches the trust that we have. To this Dhum will say in his characteristic way, "Eh-screw you.. nothing will..", Pik will just smile that beatific smile of his and put an arm around my shoulder. And Pal will give me her bone crushing hug and say, "you shut-up now".

So I shut-up now.. and I get back to studying which the rest of these people are doing and I am not.

A glimpse into the future..

2007-11-18T04:17:00.000-05:00

It's bloody tough to get a job, and I am still talking about on-campus jobs.

I hold two jobs as of now, one which pays me enough to get by, but is not worth mentioning, and another which pays me nothing but is very prestigious. But I beloed all kinds of papads to get these jobs. By that I mean, I applied like crazy, pursued like crazy, went personally although they did not want me to, and finally landed the two jobs which were not bagged because of the above activities.

I tried for a job as a designer, multi-media assistant, graphics programmer and even a software consultant on campus, but only got rejects from all of these. And got accepted for one of the most lowly jobs on campus, and one of the most highly revered one. I had applied for 27 jobs the last time I counted.. and then I sent some more resumes across.

I am not even going into the crazy application I did for assistantships. And landed none.

Now, that I have comfortable accepted these two jobs (read: stopped cribbing about them), it's time to start thinking about a job in the real world out there. And shit, that is scary.

Pri has been job hunting like crazy in her part of the world, and not landing anything too. I am not internship hunting, and I dont see any firm plans yet.

If this is the condition now, I wonder what will happen after I graduate. And Pri wondered that too.

So we both ended up making a pact together. I graduate in Dec 2008, and she graduates late 2008 sometime too. If we both do not find jobs, in US or UK, by May 2009, we are both packing up and moving back to India.

I anyway planned to work in here only for a year, I ll waste half a year looking for a job, and if I dont find one, its time to head back to India, go to a portfolio school, or do one more degree/diploma in Strategy and work back home. Or get into a venture with Pri.

So this post here seals the deal we made. With all you people reading it as witness. So none of us can back out :)

Numbing the Numbers- a meme

2007-11-13T14:32:00.000-05:00

So here is a Numbers Meme that Ideasmith tagged on to me really long back. Like, five months ago. But I just wasn't doing it because I thought no one would be interested in knowing more about me through a Meme, really. I mean, just because I think Meme's are fun, doesn't mean the person who reads this will think so too. But, apparently I was wrong. Dhum has been behind me to put up the one and only Meme I have ever been tagged for, and so, since I do have someone interested enough to read my Meme here it is..

LIST FOUR SENTENCES YOU’VE NEVER SAID BEFORE:

1) Wow, I am soo thin/ wow, I have a super figure.
2) I want to fit in with the crowd..
3) Can you take me to so-n-so place
4) Oooh, I love parties!!!

LIST ANY NUMBER OF SONG TITLES THAT DESCRIBE HOW YOU’VE FELT THIS WEEK:

1) Seene mein jalan, aankhon mein toofan sa kyu hai
2) Under my Umbrella
3) Bhagam Bhaag
4) (Waiting for) A better tomorrow
5) I'm not a girl, not yet a woman..

IMAGINE YOU’RE HAVING THE IDEAL PERFECT DAY. WHAT FOUR THINGS WOULD YOU BE DOING?

1) Being home, sitting with mom and reading a book
2) Sitting at bandstand fort, or at the far corner of Silver Beach with Mr. Pilot
3) On the bike, on a long stretch of road, at 140 kmph
4) Listening to music without thinking a thing

MAKE UP FIVE CREATIVE NAMES FOR A NEW ROCK BAND:

1) Just Because
2) The way to go
3) The Backbenchers
4) Sunset rock
5) Blue and Green

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU GET TO GO BACK IN TIME AND ENSURE THAT THREE SONGS WERE NEVER WRITTEN, THUS SPARING HUMANITY FROM EVER HAVING TO HEAR THEM. WHAT THREE SONGS WOULD GET THE AXE?

1) All metallic, heavy songs with meaningless lyrics
2) I would love to erase the existence of Limp Bizcit or whatever he/she is
3) Dil le gayi kudi Gujarat di

I am hoping I haven't jinxed my chances of getting more Meme's because of the late deliverance on this one.. :) And to pass this along, I tag Puneet and Anirudha, because I don't know of any other blogger who reads these dreams.. and who can take this Meme ahead..

Home is...

2007-11-02T12:53:00.000-04:00

There are days when I am the goddess of practicality, and days when I am an emotional puddle. And it is NOT easy admitting this over here.

I have been pestering my mom and brother off from the past few days about how I should not bind myself down to Mumbai just because I have been born there and because I have lived there for the first 22 years of my life. I need to look at the bigger picture, at the enormous pastures that are open for me, all the opportunities out there. Home is where I decide my life is!! Where my career is and where my future is.

And then there is today. Friday night, 10 PM, in the bathroom of the undergraduate library, I look into the mirror and suddenly realize that if, at this very moment, I was on Andheri Station, waiting for the 8:34 Churchgate fast, I would be happy. The happiness would be in my bones. Even if I was not smart enough to appreciate that happiness, it would exist.

And then I again start looking forward to the day I might return back to India. To Mumbai. To home. Home is where my heart is after all.

Spinning on my axis...

2007-10-31T02:41:00.001-04:00

Ever chased a racing leaf on the sidewalk?
Watched the trees turn into spun gold/copper/red metal/pink gems?
Smiled at every stranger you met on the road?
Told your bus driver how you are sure she will find happiness in her new marriage?
Looked at the moon and squeed, "It's a full moon on a purple sky!!!!!!!!!!!" ?
Cooked something just because someone has been craving it from a long time?

These are the little pleasures of life here.

The crackle of leaves turned into a crispness, of color and material. I started a collection and RM and me both keep adding on it. The chest in our living room is beautifully decorated with all the colors of fall we could gather.

The beauty of the black,black trunk of the tree adorned and made even more beautiful by the beautiful colors of leaves on it. It is as if the trees have been decked up in gold, copper, and bronze jewelry. Really. Everytime I bend down to pick up a leaf and carefully store it in my book or bag, there is someone looking at me curiously. And when the someone understand that I am storing my first fall, gathering remembrances for life, they give a gentle laugh and an indulgent look.

Everybody smiles. I can't believe that I think it is rude of those few who don't. Me, who was a grumpy, cynical brat back home. I REALLY was. Everyone wishes you a good day, and everyone asks you how you are. Some even really answer when you ask them that back. They discuss their marriages, lives, moving out, children, growing up and growing old too. All it takes to start the conversation is, "It's so cold/hot today".

But the cold (its -1.5 in the nights, and 2 to 6 in the day) brings along with itself a resplendent sun. One that shines down like the king granting a favor by its presence. A lazy, slow glow. Which warms, but doesn't drive the chill away. And when the sun shines down on the skies? It creates magic. Especially in the evening when it's setting. It spins a mesmerizing, blanket of rioting colors. And then it leaves the skies, but leaves its purpleness, or whichever color it has spun behind. And then the moon reigns. And oh, it looks so darn pretty. I wish I could climb high up on a tree so that someone could take a picture of me with the beauty up there.

And finally, on a hectic, busy, workloaded sunday, when you remove the time to cook gujju dal, just because your roommate really, really wanted to have it. It feels good. Really good. Especially when the dal turns out perfect. And even if there was not enough left for you in the end. It feels good.

I just hope the goodness lasts...

Who said Voice Message system was stupid!!!

2007-10-28T17:49:00.001-04:00

Whirrr Click.. You have reached the Voice Mailbox of.... ~The Dream Catcher~.

You have... Nine new messages..

First Message - Benaa, where are you.. every time we call your phone goes to your voice mailbox. Call back quick (Mom)

Second Message - Hey, I am really sorry. Din't mean to upset you, I just said what I said because you said that she did not know what you said, and I did not know if she knew so I just did not say anything. I hope you got what I said. Mumble-mumble mumble. Call me back, k? (Dreamer, friend over here)

Third Message - Paraaaggg, where are you yaar. Throw, just throw your phone away. I reallllyy need to talk to yaar. What is this yaar. I will call you later ok? Take care yaaaarrr.. (Mr. Pilot)

Fourth Message - Bena, tel lagava ja. (Literaly translated - Go apply oil, actually means - GET LOST). Hmphh. Call me back. QUICKLY. (Mom)

Fifth Message - This is an automated message for Rwanda Cole. Are you Rwanda Cole? You have $ 5400 left in debt with United Colors of Benetton due to the over limit purchasing of $ 5300. Please pay your dues. Thank you Rwanda Cole. (Unknown debt payment system that insists that I am Rwanda Cole, although I have replied in the negative to her initial question atleast half a dozen times)

Sixth Message - BETA!! Mom is waiting for your call. Where are you? Why aren't you calling back? Quick. (Dad)

Seventh Message - Bena, never mind. If you are studying then call on my cell after you are done ok? (Brother)

Eight Message - Love, are you ok? Call. ( Mom)

Ninth Message - Static... Pause.... Cough.... Click.

Voice Messages are fun!!!!

Now that mom dad have gone back to India, wonder who will leave so many messages :(

Things Room mate can hate about me...

2007-10-16T19:51:00.000-04:00

So I believe that I am pretty objective and fair. No, really. Which is why, I tried to think of things from a different angle. I tried to get into RoomMate's shoes, into her skin and her brain and list out the things she might hate about me. Like, her brain might go, "There, she did that again. I so HATE that about her." So the following part has been written from what might be her perspective.

I hate the fact that Pragni stays at the Union to study till 12 in the night.
I hate the fact that she then studies at all weird times, like from 12 in the night to 5 in the morning and keeps the light burning in her room all that while.
I hate the fact that Pragni eats cereals and cereal bars and oats for breakfast.
I hate the fact that she has 6 bottles of Conditioners and 7 bottles of Shampoos.
I hate the fact that she feels too cold when I put the air-conditioner on.
I hate the fact that she cannot bear the loud, LOUD bass music that the neighbors plays everytime she is studying.
I hate the fact that she soopenly dislikes me taking lifts and drives from people. So much so that I have actually reduced them.
I hate the fact that she wants to shop for groceries together, thought she did go alone the last time when I went to a pub for a party.
I hate the fact that Pragni believes that laundry should be done once every two weeks.
I hate the fact that she loves apple juice.
I hate the fact that her room is an masterpiece of Organized mess, while mine is strictly, disciplined organization.
I hate the fact that sometimes when she is going out of the door, she asks me to lock up behind her and does not use her key.
I hate the fact that she keeps momentarily losing her things just to find them again under a minute.

That's It. I can't think of anything more than this that she could hate about me. Now does this give me the right to list out the facts I hate about her? :) just kidding..

Apparently she wants to stay with me next year too, even if I might graduate by December and not stay the entire year. Hmmmm..

Do you really think she could hate all this about me? Really, Really??

Blankness prevails..

2007-10-12T01:52:00.001-04:00

Why does the mind keep expecting even though it has been made clear in the past that expectations are not to be entertained..

Life can march right along with noone around and with everyone around. Life just does not stop to watch, the destruction or splendor..

I don't want to miss the magic, but sometimes, you expect too much of a magical quality from it.. which can kill the charm of it..

I successfully manage to kill the charm off all my magic. Always.

Maybe I should go chop my hair off..

Stars Shine Down...

2007-10-08T00:47:00.000-04:00

Ever seen a star in the eye? Try it.

Try gazing at the shining glimmer of a now-bright, now-dark star..

Try gazing at the throbbing intensity of a thousand stars shining down..

It's an experience on its own. It's something that will last you a lifetime. I hope I get my fill of them in this lifetime, doesn't seem possible though..

It feels like the stars are talking down with you. Like they are saying something, only if you understand it. Like they are pointing to something, only if you get it..

It feels like heaven..

And life goes on..

2007-10-05T23:21:00.000-04:00

So how much do you think a chat window can express? Even if I am being honest about when I smile and when I don't, you'd never know the difference between a sad, forced smile and an enthusiastic, happy smile.

You'd never know the doubts clouding my eyes when I said I was ok, and you'd never know the hesitation with which I said things are going great.

And I'd never know what you meant when you said, everything that you said..

And life goes on..

Another October begins..

Sigh.....

2007-10-01T02:16:00.000-04:00

I have a blank Word Document in front of me. In fact it has been there for the better part of the day.

Whenever anyone calls, I say, "Uhh.. I'm studying.. can I get back to you later? I'll call you when I take a break."

Said call disturbs my thought process (maybe the thoughts were just about to be spilled on the blank Word Doc, you know) and I decide to download a few songs. I download Euphoria's entire album. 9 songs. Then chiding myself about not studying, I turn to the blank Word Doc. I then download Shaan's entire collection of songs. 21 songs.

Dhum pings me online and wonders if I am studying that hard. I say "Ofcourse, oh and could you forward the song from Dor to me? Ahh Thanks.."

Back to studying then. I think about the reflection paper I am supposed to submit on Wednesday, and the article I am supposed to submit on Tuesday, and the report I am supposed to submit on Monday - TOMORROW!!

Brain refuses to get stimulated, motivated, inspired. I turn to the 600 page reading I have to do for next Monday. Brain loses all grasp on stimulation, motivation, inspiration and spirals down to lala land. Sleep. ZZZZ. Forty Winks. But in my case, a little more often.

Everytime I start my readings, one page = 30 minutes of deep sleep. So deep that I even have dreams. I tried reading while I was walking, I stood for 30 minutes sleeping. I tried reading while I was studying with friends, I camouflaged my sleep. I tried reading while I was sitting on the hard, rough, poky carpet, I slept on my reading. Sigh. And I finally, desperately, tried reading while I was sleeping. Some inverse logic might be at action, I though. Needless to say, I slept. Sleeping.

"How are you with deadlines??"
"Oh, deadlines are sacred to me. Back home, we used to say, 'you gotta meet a deadline, even if you are dead!!"

This is what I said in my interview. And I think this is why I got my job.

Then WHY THE HELL IS MY BRAIN NOT FUNCTIONING ENOUGH TO REALIZE THAT IT IS THIS JOB THAT IS AT STAKE NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sigh. The Word Document is still blank...

Unpredictable Suddenness

2007-09-28T02:04:00.000-04:00

Something just clicks. And something goes wrong. Something just shifts and slides inside and falls into that dark sphere which hurts terribly.

I spend the entire day pleased. With a spring in my step, a smile in my mind. I finish all my work on time. And then the dark sphere approaches. I run away. I try to run as far away as I can from it. Once it clouds over me, I know the cheer will take time to return.

I hate my damn moods. I hate the damn unpredictability of it. I HATE IT. But they just don't seem to understand that. They just keep pelting me with their suddenness.

I was walking across the Oval Maidan, 8:30 in the night. The laptop felt heavy on my back, and I knew my next train was at 8:43. I had a load of work to finish, I had a load of work to start with. I remember smiling because I liked the feeling. The feeling of knowing my responsibilities and priorities. The feeling of the chilly twilight breeze, hitting me across my face as I walked across the dark, dark pathway. The dreamy walk, lit with bright yellow bulbs, littered with pani-puri wallas and couples walking hand-in-hand. I remember thinking then, "Maybe this is how living in USA, shouldering my responsibilities will feel like."

I was so wrong. I want that feeling again. I want to be able to feel comfortable enough to feel like that again. I was rigging N about not having inner peace, I just realized now, I am ravaged inside. I don't have even a tidbit of inner peace. Why? Why the hell? If everyone thinks this too, then why is there no answer to it yet.. someone must have an answer.. who??

Who is wearing the pants and why..

2007-09-14T19:16:00.000-04:00

Before I start writing this post, and before you start reading it, I should warn everyone that I am not judgmental. Neither am I opinionated. But yes, I do have strong, tangently-inclined opinions, which have their own value systems. I do realize that the few of you who read this blog know me personally and know the people I talk about, and I will talk about personally too. I beg you to not form your opinions based on what I write here, and don't hold me to them too. I notice things, I feel something about it, hence I write. I might notice something else later and my feelings or opinions might change. Which is a natural human process.

Those of you (if there are any) who don't know me personally, and yet read my blog, I have only one word for you - Welcome!! (Not that the others are not welcome!! :) )

----

When I shifted into my new apartment, I had a clean, white, untouched wall and a lot of frames to be hung. I wasn't sure if I could pierce holes in the walls here so I asked my uncle (Masa) about it. Masa told me that all I needed was a few pins and a hammer and I was set. I try to cover all grounds, so I asked my seniors about whether I am allowed to do such things, and they said sure, just when you are vacating the apartment, se sure to stuff the holes with Colgate. Fair enough.

Problem two: Where do I get nails and a hammer from?
Masa's advice: Oh, Just meet Rahul (Some undergrad ABCD here, who he knows well) and say, "Raaa-hul.. How do I make holes in my walls for frames...(Accompanied with batting eyelashes and a few helpless giggles)"

Needless to say, I refused and my wall remains untouched and the frames unhung. But I am fine with it. This sounds like a better option.

I was planning a trip to Chicago, which is a three hour drive away. Room-mate (RM for all practical purposes from now on) tells me, "Why don't you call V? He will definitely take you there.." I cancelled my roadtrip. Better option.

RM was scared about a security issue concerning the internet we have been using. I told her that if someone comes asking, say that you don't use the internet, your room-mate does and leave the rest upto me. I have no idea how I will tackle the situation, if it arises. But I do know that she doesn't want to handle the issue, and I feel like the man here, asking her to drop it all on me.

RM's laptop arrived today ( Congrats for the same!!), but she missed the delivery. The FedEx guys think that the best time to deliver anything is when you are at class. Go figure. Anyway, this has happened with both of us before, at different times. First she, and then I tracked out way down to the otherside of this otherwise small town (Far, Far, Faaar away), to get out parcel, and back, in the bus. This time, she called up a friend, who lives far, far, faaar away too, got him to pick her up, take her to FedEx, and drop her back home.

When she asked me to accompany her, I refused. She asked me why, and I told her the truth.

I am not comfortable asking someone to pick me up from my house, take me somewhere and drop me back, and then go back on that self-same road to where he actually came from in the first place. It's awkward.

I live in a town where traveling by the bus is pretty convenient. And, traveling by car is convenient too. The bus system here is pretty good, plus it helps that I can look up online when the next bus will reach exactly outside my home and which bus will take me where from wherever I want to go. You get the picture.

But, on the other hand, its not that difficult to buy a car in this country after a few years, as a result of which a lot of seniors and friends I know, have cars. And since they are all nice people they are always ready to help/comply.

While I know that this is what friends are for, I also know that I am not comfortable taking obligations from people when I can use my own self or my resources to get the same thing done. I hate being typified as a typical girl, because I believe I don't fit into that segment. I also understand that most people don't like being "Typified".

Maybe I am being sexist when I say that I expect girls to behave this way. Maybe I am being practical when I say, don't take anyone or anything for granted. Maybe I am being too stubborn when I refuse to take help from people bowing under stereotypes.

Am I the only one who can see these stereotypes? Or am I the only one who can feel their pressure and be uncomfortable with the comfort offered by the stereotypes. I know that is a paradox, but it makes a lot of sense. I am uncomfortable with it just because staying within the boundaries of these stereotypes will make my life easier, and more comfortable.

It's not about the male or female stereotype here, its about fitting into the mould of damsel in distress and waiting for a prince to lift you out of it. Why can't these damsels stop sounding so dainty and pretty just by their names and start fighting back their own distresses, at least till you can. Till you have the resources too.

I am not saying that you should deny help when you seriously need it. Going back late in the night, and said friend offering to drop you back, is understood. Need to go somewhere immediately where no bus goes, really far, and said friend takes you there- understood. But more than that, and it brings an image of a female sitting on a pretty couch, twiddling her thumbs waiting for the man to come and roll out the carpet so that she can step up and go about.

It's really not about who is wearing the pants, its about who is making whom wear it.

The Sea, the sun and the confusion

2007-09-08T15:08:00.000-04:00

Pal, my friend doing Urban Planning here, was calling me up to her place, "It's spectacular, the apartment we have rented."

I dint say much. I don't know why. I followed her up the circular staircase to her apartment. I could feel her excitement passing on to me. But I was just smiling.

When I entered her place, it was just a terrace. A square room with glass walls, with a huge terrace bordering it outside from three sides. And out of all those three sides all I could see was the blue, very blue and Azure sea. Rippling gently with the breeze. The coast wasn't visible at all. It was as if the building, her house, was right at the bank of the coast. Looking out into the sea. Beautiful. As far as my eyes could see, as far the horizon stretched all I could see was the blue, blue sea and the orange, setting ball of fire above it. Somehow the sea was untouched by the sun's hue. It was a crystal cobalt and the sky was a mixed palette of reds, yellows and orange.

I don't know how long I stood there, mesmerized. Dumbstruck. Pal had gotten lucky with her home. It was a beauty. It was Mumbai as my eyes saw it. Fascinating. Mumbai, over here.

Suddenly I jolted out of my reverie. "I have a job interview at the radio station, right under your house. Oh god, I'll be late." I rushed out. Longingly, I looked over my shoulder once at the vision I was so enamored by. Something was changing, but I couldn't single it out then.

I ran down the circular staircase, and reached outside the building. I thumped on the door and told the student at the other side that I have a job interview with the RJ right now.

"Which RJ?", he asked me, looking into his rooster.
"RJ Tham."
"Oh, but he has been fired. He should be coming around right now to plead his case, maybe he can plead yours too."

Plead?? How could that be? RJ Tham had taken me around the entire radio station the last time I met him. He had been pretty positive about me getting the job. How did he lose his job????

RJ Tham came around. He did not see me. He charged straight inside. I followed him in. The student let me in thinking that I was coming in with Tham.

We went up the circular staircase. The walls were filled with colorful graffiti. He was saying something about how I can't get the job, because he himself has been displaced. I thought, yeah I got that much, Buster.

I followed him around for a little while. Hoping for something to click in place. For something to happen that would get me this job. Nothing.

I was climbing up the stairs to Pal's place again. Round and round, up, to the blue, blue sea. I somehow felt like I was showing her place to my parents. Telling them that look, she has a place that looks out to the sea... the SEA!!!!!!

When I reached the squarish terrace, I realized what had gone amiss then. The sea had been receding. Now all I could see from the vantage point was small buildings and streets and little bit of sand. No sea anywhere. Up above, the sky was a dull. The color was just not registering. Like the sea, the sky had lost its charm too. Receded maybe?

*****

I live in a non-coastal city now. There is no water body, even within 30 miles of the place that I live in. I can not count small stupid ponds that are miles away, as water bodies. Pal lives in a ground floor apartment(that's called the First floor here; weird) , with two other roomies. I cannot work in a radio station, thought I'd love to, because its not affiliated to the university. The radio station here, is on the ground floor too, facing out to the main street here. There is no sea here. No SEA!!!!! :(

AND I don't understand what my mind can conjure up while my eyes are closed. I just don't get it, and no matter how much I try to find the meanings of such dreams, I come up with the obvious. If there is one thing I know about dreams, it's that it never means what is obvious apparent. Which leaves me flummoxed. Sigh.

Life took the Backseat in the Roller Coaster..

2007-09-06T20:40:00.000-04:00

Life is a rollercoaster. Really. But the ups are really short, and the lows are really long. I guess I am getting too clichéd now...

Anyway, a few people who are really silent readers of my blog, or so I believe. I hope they are not total non-readers :(. So, these people, suddenly got active, in their own way, and delighted me. Absolutely delight me.

Pri, is leaving for her masters abroad soon. Technically I can't say that she is leaving, since I am not there, as in in Mumbai, to bid adieu, but, anyway. So as she finally, FINALLY, disembarks on her further studies, she left me a beautiful, beautiful gift. A blog. Something just between the two of us. It feels like its a hotline of some sort. London to US: DIRECT. (No, the link on her name above is not to her blog. Dint I say that it is just between the two of us??) There have been quite a few friends of mine who have started blogging after witnessing my mania.
Or so I like to believe. Just humor me if it's not that way, OK?
But, this is a blog made just for me and her. I don't blog in it. She does. For me to read. I think its a wonderful thing to do. Especially since she knows how important it is for me!!

Also, another friend, who I have surprisingly started talking to quite a bit, talking about life here and all called me suddenly. Nothing so huge about this. Except that I had never spoken on the phone with said friend before. When Unknown Number Calling, flashed on my phone, I assumed it was Mr. Pilot, and I picked up with a cheery "hello".

"Pragni?" (Pronounced as Prugni, like in a short 'a', not the elongated way it actually is. And anyone who doesn't know me in real life will obviously not know how to pronounce it right. Like I guess those few reading this and who don't know me personally, mispronounce it. Yes, I'm sure you do it too!!)

So said friend is in Petrovski, which is not a place, but is just what I call the place from where said friend hails. So Petrovski (as we shall call said friend) has never spoken to me on the phone. NO we are not net friends. We were supposed to be humwatans in this place here, but his end of the things dint work out. I was too surprised to hold a proper conversation I think, but I was pleased, supremely pleased. It's not everyday that someone calls just because, "I couldn't come online too often, and because of this new time difference between us now, I just don't ever see you online!!"

And the third non-active friend. Who was not supposed to be a part of this post really, but got included in it, just because of his enthusiasm to see my next post up and on. So this friend is also someone studying here at the U of I (notice how I don't say UIUC anymore.. we are actually the U of I!!) This friend, better called Dhum ( short for Dhum dhum dhadam dhadaiya re), revealed to me sometime back that he reads my blog. Which induced a Cheshire Cat kind of a grin from me. Nothing pleases me more. And since then, he has been on my case to get me to blog more often. Everyday I am greeted with a "Hey, did you post something new??".

Dhum, I don't think I have told you, but I find this REALLY sweet. Keep it up will ya? Motivates me to getting my fingers moving along the keyboard (Another huge Grin).

So that's the ups on my life's roller coaster as of now. Recounted so that they last longer!! Hope I dont sad enough to start recounting the downs too... :)

Wish Blogger had smileys that I could include in the post yaar..

Living life...

2007-08-29T04:52:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, I forget I am not in India. Sometimes. I take a step out into the world. Look up, look at the sky. It feels the same. Look around me, its the same. I still have to rush to make it in time for my classes. I still have to wait on the pavement for the bus to come. I still see the bus go past me, just coz I'm late by a minute. It feels the same.

Just because my parents are not home, does not mean I dont feel attached to them anymore. Just because I have the right to, does not mean I will abuse my rights. Just because I can, does not mean I will. I don't see whats the big deal about the freedom. I think the only freedom I have now, which I dint have earlier is to pay my own bills. Everything else is the same.

It's not a tough life really. It's just living that life that's tough. It's not a life you can't adjust to. It's just slipping into the adjustment that might be tough.

Everyone keeps telling me that things will get better. For some reason, I trust them and believe them. I believe that things will get better. Because they tell me.

When I miss my bus, I tell myself that it happens to every student.
When I am rejected from a Job, I tell myself that every student who wants one, has one job. I will get mine soon too.
When I see no chance for an Assistantship, I tell myself, that every Indian has got funding by the second semester. I won't be excluded. I'll get something too.
When I try to cart 8 bags of wal-mart groceries back home, on the bus. I realize every new student must have done this too.
When I see who I really am now, I realize, everyone must have had this moment of clarity too.

I can see my true self forming in front of me. When anyone asked me to describe myself, I kept saying that I dint know myself well enough to be able to give a description. Now I can see that the vague outline is forming in the picture. I see myself deal with situations, and it strikes me that this is the way I deal with situations. I see myself react to something genuinely, and I realize that I dint garb that reaction, scared of what the people who already have an impression of me in their minds would think. I react, I talk, I comment, and I behave to fill in that picture and make it more definite. To remove the vagueness and fill in colors.

I smile. I laugh at what I was. At what I had forced myself to be. To gain protection from hurt, I trained myself to be aloof, indifferent, unconcerned, unattached. I now realize I am not. I will hurt no matter what. Protection will just save me from wear and tear, but exposure will toughen it up.

I realize that I have gotten over the worst setback in my life. I realize it suddenly, one day, while sitting amidst a party of 25 people, bidding farewell to a friend, someone I have known since just 2 days. But someone I do consider a great person. It suddenly dawns on me, that I have gotten over the setbacks of my life. I have moved on. It took me 5 years, but I thought it would take 7!! The past has no power over me anymore. No strength to hurt me, taunt me, condemn me, laugh at me or cry with me. The past, has reduced in significance, and become just a story lived, loved, and left.

I struggle with daily life. But its the kind of struggle that makes your life, not breaks it. I am living. After years of getting by, I am suddenly alive with life.

Disposable..

2007-07-29T18:20:00.000-04:00

“She is flighty,” Vishal’s mother, Anuradha, said with a sniff.

“Amma, she has been my best friend since the last 12 years now. You know I have been in love with her since the beginning. You knew it all along. I know her well, She knows me well. She has finally agreed to marry me. Why are you disagreeing then?” Vishal said a tad impatiently.

“Vishie beta, you know.. her… about her.. all those boy-friends,” Amma said the word boyfriends almost as if she would contract some disease by its utterance.

“Mother, please. She has friends; I am one of her friends. But I love her. I always have. She is really very.. nice” Vishal finished a little lamely. He did not have a better word to describe his best friend and not soon-to-be-wife Raina. He did not know how to tell his mother that Raina knew him best. Raina understood him better than his own mother. She advised him better. Raina was truly wise, and she took responsibility for every action of hers. Yes, she had had a string of boyfriends, but not once had she shirked any responsibility which the consequences brought about. Raina had never been serious with any of those guys, and she had never faked a single thing. Vishal had seen Raina not at the helm of a situation only once. When he had met her all those years back, when she was nursing a severe heart break. Vishal had stood by her while Raina pulled herself out of her depression, while Raina regained her dignity and composure, Vishal had been falling in love with her. But Raina had refused. I don’t want to burn the bridge of our friendship behind us, she had said.
She had a lot of relationships since then, but she never started one with Vishal. They were for forever, she had maintained.

Now after 12 years, Raina had finally agreed to marry him. She had said she was ready to take the responsibility of it. If he could convince his parents. It had seemed like an easy task but..

“Vishal, I am not old-fashioned. I do understand this love business. But.. I always hoped you’d like a more reliable person.”

“But I have never known anyone more reliable then Raina. Amma, I am 29, don’t you think I understand what marriage is all about. Don’t you think I understand what kind of a commitment it is?”

“Age will never explain to you what marriage is all about,” Anuradha said sharply. She took a breath, cooled down, and continued in a gentler tone, “Look, if you both are sure, then I am not going to stop you. But I hope you both can take the responsibility of marriage. Only being best-friends will not last you through it”

Vishal was speechless for a few seconds. His mother had said exactly what Raina had. This made him more confident about her. “Amma, friendship alone might not last us through it, but it sure will help. I am sure of it.”

“Ok then, we should talk to her parents next, hai na?,” Amma conceded.

--------

“Bhaiya, I really like Raina, and I have always known you were in love with her. But..,” Jyoti had specially dragged Vishal out of the house on the pretext of buying Mithai.

Vishal knew she had something important to talk about. “But, are you fine with her past? I know all about her bhaiya, she is my friend too. I am not talking only of Abhay, but all the other flings she had and all that..”

“Jo, Raina agreed to marry me. You know Raina. If she has agreed, then she will keep the faith intact. I trust her.” There was nothing to hide from Jo, although she knew Raina only after Vishal, Jo and Raina were very compatible.

“I do too. And I know she never lies. But I was just wondering if you are comfortable. You have a long life ahead now, together, you know. Anyway, I think gulab Jamuns are more festive. But what if they leak on the way to her place?,” Jo was satisfied. And at peace. She knew Raina would keep her brother happy, and she knew her brother loved Raina like crazy. Things would turn out fine.

-----

Raina’s parents agreed immediately. They had known of Vishal’s love for their daughter since long too, and they liked the boy. A little immature, but very reliable. And he truly loved Raina. He had waited for her all these years.

While the parents looked up dates, Raina and Vishal retreated to the terrace. They loved sitting in the swing there. Silently, looking at all the trees peeping into the top floor.

“Raina..”
“Hmm..”
“Rae, are you sure of this?”
Raina turned her gaze on her best friend. Sometimes, Vishal thought, it feels like Raina can read my thoughts. And she mostly could always predict his next move.
“Vishal, I took 12 years to think this through. Are you sure?, ” Raina asked him calmly.
“I love you. I have always waited for this.”
“Loving and waiting are very different from being sure. But I think you might grow into the idea of marriage once you experience it.” Raina looked away. For once, she was a little unsure about what Vishal would do in the future.

-----

“Are you going to call Abhay? Or any of the rest, that you are in touch with?” Vishal asked Raina a few days before the wedding, on the phone.

“Hmm, I will inform Abhay. He deserves that much. And I don’t think I will invite Gaurav, or Mayank or Rolan or anyone for that matter.” Raina said thoughtfully, “And Vishal, before you ask, I don’t want you to call preeti too. Let us both let bygones be bygones.”

“Oh I was not going to call her anyway,”Vishal lied, knowing very well, that Raina would see through the lie.

“Yea, right,” she said.

“Raina,” Vishal said after a pause, “We will be happy..” His statement was toned like a question.

“Marriage is not disposable Vishal, remember that. Always”.

-----

“Want to grab some lunch, love?” Vishal asked Raina.
“Hmm… I am elbow-deep in work Vishal…” Raina said apologetically.
“Which is why, I keep telling you to drop that job, and join me. But I know you wont listen.”
“Ok. Lets do one thing. Come over to my office, we’ll have lunch at the little pizzeria next door”
“Uhh.. and have your entire office staff peering down our shoulders? No thanks. You carry on with your work, I’ll see you tonight at home.”
“But.. oh. Ok.” Raina said, slipping out of her, let’s-go-out mood.
“Are you going to be at work late today?,” Vishal asked suddenly.
“Hmm.. mm. I’ll be home by 9:30 or so. You are cooking dinner tonight right?”
“Yeah. Stir-fry.”
“Ok then. I’ll see you at the dinner table!!” Raina said, injecting some cheer into her voice.

-----

Raina walked into the foyer of her building and waited for the elevator. When she stepped into the yawning door, she heard a clatter of heels. Surprised she was about to stop the door from closing but it snapped shut anyway. She punched in the open door button, but when the doors yawned open again, there was no one on the other side. Maybe that someone had clattered down the stairway, not towards the lift.

Raina turned the key into the door, and walked in. The table was not set. And the spicy sting of the stir-fry was not wafting around in the air.

“Vishal?,” Raina opened the bedroom door and walked in. Vishal was lounging on the bed. Doing nothing. He grinned at her brightly.

“Are you alright?” she asked him, standing at the door.

“Rae, you are early. It’s just… uh 9..” he slurred, “come, let’s go to sleep.”

“Aren’t we eating any dinner?” she asked him, not moving an inch from her stand.

“I din’t cook anything. I forgot. Went to sleep. Can you rustle up something? I’m hungry too”

“Corn Flakes, Toast and Cold Milk. With fruits,” she said in one breath, “wash your face and come to the table.”

“Yes, Rae”

She had his bowl ready. She knew how he liked his cereals. Chopped fruits, lots of flakes, cold milk and a chunk of chocolate hidden somewhere inside. Toasts on the side plate.

She sat with her mug of cold milk. She told herself she needed the strength. He slunk into his chair, picked up the spoon and stirred the mixture around. He avoided her eyes.

“Did you ever think of Abhay after our marriage, Rae” he asked after a lengthy, pregnant pause.

“Yes, I did. But I never contacted him again. And you know I don’t talk to Gaurav or anyone else too”

“Hmm,” he had even started talking like her. Living with her, he had picked up parts of her living, and made it his.

Raina gave up the pretence of eating. She just looked at Vishal, waiting for him to talk about it.

He looked up, and his face crumbled.

"How did you know Rae," he stumbled, "Please Rae, I'm sorry. I wont talk to her again. Please Rae. Rae I love you, but.. " Vishal was spluttering helplessly now

“Marriage is not disposable Vishal, I had asked you to remember that.”

Losing a grip on reality..

2007-07-23T07:07:00.000-04:00

It's surreal. My brain refuses to accept it. While I was racing around the airport unloading the extra luggage.. I dint believe it.. while I was getting through Immigration I dint believe it.

I sit in the plane, make all my last minute calls. Say bye, but don't believe it. The aircraft rises above Mumbai on time. I see the lights twinkling below.. I can spot S.V.Road, I can spot Juhu, the road leading to my place in the general direction. I see the beach, clear as a crystal from above, I see the stalls where I ate Golas with Pri and Amar. I can see the waves being pulled on to the sand, rhythmically, I cant see the the couples though. They are just specks. I enjoy the view but I cant believe it.

Abu Dhabi. People shouting for Riyadh passengers, I can see the "Princess" and " Daughters of Arabia" stories reliving itself in front of me. I go through a thorough hand bag scan. They throw small things from my bag, small things, which spell danger for them, but spell memories for me. Still don't believe it. I don't protest.

Flight to JFK, I'm sitting with the harry potter in my hands, but I am not reading it. I am sitting with an option of 256 films, 330 songs and lots of games, but I don't indulge in any of it. I don't believe it. I keep telling mum that I cant be leaving Mumbai. I don't register that I already have.

JFK. Immigration. Baggage recovery and customs. JFK to Philadelphia. Still don't believe it.

On the long drive home, I search for signs that look familiar.

I peer around..

Mc Donalds!!
Gay Lords!!
Hey, Baskin Robbins...

I look at the clouds and they resemble the ones back home.. I look at the roads, they vaguely look like the Mumbai-Pune highway. New Jersey, India Street, Saris everywhere, Patels and dosas.. India!! Mumbai!!

No, that's lost. Quite lost.

It's scary. To realize that all this while, when I said that I want to live in a small town, it was a town like this that I envisaged. A pretty, green, quiet but friendly little town. Where people wont stare, and people wont frown. It's scary because I don't want to like this place. Its surreal.

Warning: Dates in the Calender seem too far

2007-07-19T01:18:00.000-04:00

Thoughts on a romp. Regrets, apologies to be given. Speed 180 kmph.

Million things to be done. Million people to call, meet. Million lives left to touch. Speed 200 kmph.

Sleeplessness. Constant smiles. Aching jaws. Fake happiness. Speed, sigh, 225 kmph.

Lunches left, dinners forgotten, breakfast ignored. Shadows beneath the eyes, and throbbing backs. Speed still 235 kmph.

Last minute meets. Last card game with friends. Last train ride. Last book stocked in my library. Speed: 240 kmph

No heart-felt byes. No reason to. No reactions at all.

Last two days. Feels like the end anyway. Too much happening inside my head. Outside- nothing. No reaction. No emotions.

Somebody once told me,

"Showing no reaction is a kind of reaction too"

A little girl's dreams..

2007-07-15T07:18:00.000-04:00

Emptying your closet can be an eye-opening experience. I found a little peice of paper which said,

My Dreams:
1. To play the violin
2. To drive a car
3. To ride a bike
4. To spend a lott of time with all my friends
5. To have a cassatte full of my favorite music.
6. To spend as much time as possible on the beach.
7. To study abroad. (Please come true)

The date on this paper was August 20, 1996. Obviously, my 11th birthday must have encouraged me to think up all this stuff. To introspect within, or whatever that is. The last one is the killer. Never knew that, that 11 year old kid would change, and change how to this 22 year old adult. Change so much that the one dream I really really wanted is coming true, and now I am wondering why the hell did I want it so bad...

I've fulfilled almost all my dreams listed on the little chit. Makes sense why I preserved it so long. I needed to see it today to understand this change in my life.

Maybe I should make a new list of my dreams now. Maybe I'll just jinx it by writing it down, and when it comes true when I'm 33, I'll curse myself about it!!

Don't Leave Home...

2007-07-11T13:55:00.000-04:00

I have been listening to Dido all day long. I think it just confuses me up more. Messes my head up, leaves a pleasant buzz behind. And I think her confusion is what makes her one of the best singers.. very real, her words. A state of welcomed chaos within...

My mind is not reacting to the environment around me. I am moving around the house as if I am going to be here forever. I am meeting up my friends, and issuing dire threats about me shipping off soon. But I don't feel it. Ineptness of my being...

Everyone keeps telling me, "Enjoy your time there, have all the fun you can, eat all you can." But I'm living my normal life. My every-day life. Where is the excitement? Why is it missing? Where's the joy? Where's the anticipation?? The Lost feeling seeping in...

My mind has gone numb. Blind maybe. I don't see the what's looming right in front of me. I refuse to accept the truth as it is happening. I pack, and I think I am packing for someone else. I empty my closets, and watch mum fold all my clothes away neatly into my bags, and I still don't see that they are my clothes. Blind spots of the mind...

I keep thinking about all those people I will not be able to meet before I leave. I wonder if it will make a difference to them. I'm thinking about it, because it makes a difference to me. But I'm quite sure its not mutual. Or maybe, they haven't told me it matters to them, for the exact same reason that I haven't. They might be waiting for me to approach them. Lost chances of my life...

My eyes glaze over the calendar. People are planning to drop me off at the airport. Marking the day, and grinning about it. There are those waiting there for me. My brother, J, my cousins, my friends. And there are others trying their best to not tell me to not go. Say it once. I'll feel better about it. It might just put me at peace. A heavy restlessness...

Laughter is miles away, in Delhi, struggling with building her own new life. Doctor is in Pune, but I will get to meet her only once before I leave. Basanti, Dhanno, Jay, Veeru are all here. We are all planning a big weekend meet. But it still doesn't strike true. Tag cant make it to meet me. Pri, my over-protective Pri, will be coming down for me specially. Puneet's presence is always around, but we haven't been able to do all those things we had thought we would do once before I go. Yet, she managed to give me one of the best gifts anyone could ever give me. But I wonder if I'll get to meet my entire family together once before I go. My entire extended family. More lost chances...

Mr. Pilot. He has been planning to come from the beginning of this month, but has not been able to make it back yet. If does finally make it back, I'll get to spend 5 days with him. Funny. Someone with whom I have spent the last five years, through thick and thin, best friends, always there for each other. In my last days here, I'll get only 5 days with him. Ironically bereft...

I installed the little midget in the sidebar, for the express purpose of reminding me every time I look at it. And the little damned thing says I have just 8 days, 23 hours, 16 minutes and 23 seconds left with me.

I don't remember my dreams anymore. I don't think I dream of pleasant things. I think they are disturbing dreams. "It's a sign of deep sleep" someone tells me from deep inside, "or maybe too blank a mind."

Blank...

Don't Leave Home..

Like a ghost don't need a key

Your best friend I've come to be

Please don't think of getting up for me

You don't even need to speak

When I've been here for just one day

You'll already miss me if I go away

So close the blinds and shut the door

You won't need other friends anymore

Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home

If you're cold I'll keep you warm

And If you're lost just hold on

Cause I will be your safety

Oh don't leave home

I arrived when you were weak

I'll make you weaker, like a child

Now all your love you give to me

When your heart is all I need

Oh don't leave home, oh don't leave home

If you're cold I'll keep you warm

And If you're lost just hold on

Cause I will be your safety

Oh don't leave home

Oh how quiet, quiet the world can be

When it's just you and little me

Everything is clear and everything is new

So you won't be leaving will you

If you're cold I'll keep you warm

And If you're lost just hold on

Cause I will be your safety

Oh don't leave home

Cause I will be your safety

I will be your safety

Oh don't leave home

----------------------

And who, I wonder, will be my safety, now that I am leaving home...

I have realized...

2007-07-06T10:55:00.001-04:00

You don't achingly, yearningly miss trains. You don't miss the travelling in local trains when you stop travelling. But when you do resume travelling by them again, or happen to have that one last run, you realize what you had been missing out on all this while. And after you are done, you get back to your old status quo.