(Many Happy) Returns

You know how salutary lessons leave you with a stinging feeling... like when you get slapped right across your face and it pains like hell... it hurts like hell doesn't it??? I just received a salutary lesson that I'm not going to forget for a long long time. No I wasn't beaten :P

And you know what else??? I'm actually feeling really good about this rap I received. It was just the wake up call I required. And I was lucky enough to be given it on the very day that is supposed to be the advent of something new, the day when supposedly turning over a new leaf if somehow more special, meaningful and likely to stick. My birthday.

First of all, as is my custom, here's a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiig thank you and huge hug along with a round of applause for My Dearest Entity That Resides Above!!! Gotta hand it to you pal, you have a sense of humour :)

Right, this somehow changes things dramatically for the me who was whining about being a pathetic unsatisfactory grown-up in the last post. I was whining away thinking it's unfair that Life does not have a cash back facility for unsatisfactory products... because then I could trade in my unsatisfactory adult self for time dating back to my childhood when I was much better and start all over to basically end up with a new adult me who was somehow a better person...at least in the same vein as the kid me if not for better than that. But that, of course, is impossible.

But hey!! Turns out, Life does actually come with an offer.

That of an upgrade ;)

And so, it transpires that whiny me learns about the upgrade and is actually eligible for it :D

You know how they say sometimes you're looking all around for something only to realise after much time and effort (all the while feeling slightly stupid and foolish) that said thing is actually right under your nose?? THAT was my salutary lesson.

That I was being a complete idiot to rebel so against something wonderful that was being offered to me wholly. That I really was a nincompoop to not open my heart fully to the wonders that were up for grabs and thus being able to redeem SOME goodness instead of frowning and fretting and worrying about things I thought I wanted but was not able to have.

So maybe I haven't actually worked out the equation... but isn't that what a lifetime is for?? And maybe I won't stop making mistakes here... but I shall definitely amend this one.

I feel remorseful about what I have been doing... but mostly, I'm hopeful, I have faith... and I feel immense love. It's coming back... minutely perhaps... but it is. I can FEEL :)

Dear God,

I thought I was a goner
Perceiving what seemed like only trouble
But Faith, Hope and Love are here again,
I feel the goodness come...
Make mine a double

Loads and loads and loads of love and gratitude,
Anu

I don't know if I've grown up

It happened to me. Again. Only I thought I'd outgrown that.

Remember when you were a kid and you'd see someone else, most probably a fellow kid, and think to yourself "I wish i could be like her/him"???? THAT happened. But in a good way.

There's this girl. Let's not name her. Or maybe we will, once we have her permission to do so. Anyway, this girl. She's everything I was a very short time ago. And a whole lot more.

She's child-like... afraid of being over friendly for fear of getting hurt... but there are times when she is as friendly as a golden retriever on the first meeting. She gets close to people really easily, cares for them like they were born together and would go to lengths for them. She gets hurt too when she trusts people she was better off not being around in the first place and even then sometimes is so innocent as to continue caring for them and forgiving them when what they actually need is a boot on the butt and getting quarantined for being hurtful buggers. She's very expressive of her affection for people... enough to get her into trouble at times. She's essentially at the point where her innocence is intact and she's full of hope, faith and love. And I admit (shamefully) there were times when I thought she needs to 'grow up'. Ok admittedly there are things she needs to learn... but I won't want her to change for the world really.

I thought I'd grown up when I learned to judge whom I could trust and whom I could not, saving me the trouble of having to find out the hard way. But I lost the joy of getting to be everyody's best friend in the process. I lost the quality of being interested in everything related to everyone I knew when I distanced myself for fear of... knowing nothing, knowing too much... I don't know. I lost being able to believe so deeply in hope, faith and love as had been my credo. Was that really growing up I did???

She's a beacon of hope for me. I admire her. She has her heart in the right place and that is something that raises my respect for her. When am with her I feel ashamed of how cynical and untrusting I've become. I'm conscious of how easy it is for her to be enthusiastic and spirited and a complete riot that is always noticed in any room and how at the same time I'm distant, emotionless and a complete wet blanket on anything that's going on. She's said she admires how 'mature' I am and I always come away thinking how undeserving of that praise I am.

I look at her and I smile internally, at her idiosyncracies, her antics and her entire being... and I can't help wishing over and over again... that even if I were to be hurt all the time, I'd like to have her innocence be mine.

Because my new found vanity demands that I do this

it's my birthday in three days. my BIRTHDAY. WISH ME DAMMIT!! And NO questions about my plans OR my age (I'm 19 okay???) NO wisecracks, NO cake on the face, NO stupid comments. Loads of presents. Even more hugs. SHOW ME THE LOVE BABY!

Dear God

Dear God,

What are you, ten years old???!!! Granted I questioned your sanity when creating women coz I was PMSing (THAT too is your fault don't blame ME) but I don't usually take the view most people do of you, that of you being a vindictive entity who damns people to hell for life (whatever THAt means) but this is really the limit.

What was the big idea of having me locked out of the room soon as I had the very thought?? huh?? You've got nothing to achieve by acting childish... try it again and I'll be speaking to you mother...hmpfh! Grow up!!!

Dinner Brand

I wonder why McDonald's named it a Happy Meal... they could have called McEntire.

And if that ever gets used anywhere, am suing the users for copyright violation... share the booty by making me a party to profits immediately or risk paying large amounts in compensation.

A Walking Perspective

In the span of my thus far short life, I have been a resident of three cities. From a distant, dispassionate perspective, every city is about the same as any other... give or take a few characteristics. They all have people, crowds to be precise, and crowds are the same everywhere, they're all made up of people, to quote Harper Lee. All cities have some measure of rhythm, routine, noise, dirt, interesting sights, interesting people. But of course, no two cities are the same, even so called twin cities. The attitudes, fashion sense, pace of life and much more vary with each city. But what really defines any city is perhaps its residential outlay. The way the skyline appears when you scout the horizon. The perspective of which is best perceived when one takes a walk.

For example, Mysore where I lived for 11 years of my life has residential areas which are, to be kind to the planning, unplanned. Land goes up for sale, people buy them and cconstruct majestic (or even small but cosy) architectured marvels in whatever design and colour they very well please. God forbid one day the government decides to run a road through the area where your house is ( Thank You, Douglas Adams) you stand to receive compensation from the said authorities, only to buy land elsewhere and continue with your fantasies of housebuilding yet again*. The skyline is uninterrupted by tall buildings and one can see for miles, albeit there's little green now and more of a concrete jungle, but look up and you can trace the hemisphere of the planet with your eyes with absolute ease.

Not so with Mumbai. Mumbai is, kindly put, planning hell. Whatever planning took place ages ago has long since been abandoned with high rises everywhere and the little alleys that run between them full of small little shacks. Paint the entire city in a stunning shade and it's skyline would still be an eyesore. Make the mistake of trying to trace the skyline and your eyes shall be met by balconies and the tops of high rises while your foot most likely has landed in some gooey mush. The sky is like the little bit of the soap that is aired between numerous ad breaks. It's a chaotic city. I have nothing against it really.

London on the other hand is something I haven't quite been able to describe properly, yet. It does have a fast paced life, but way slower than Mumbai's. It is dirty, but I've seen dirtier. It's quiet, but Mysore is quieter. And the skyline... granted London has it's high rises, but one can still blessedly catch a whole lot of sky if one bothers to look up. A blue blue sky with feathery wisps over it (or not depending on the undependable weather). It has huge lavish parks to stroll about and loll about in. And the residential areas?? They're so... well ordered. Boringly similar semi-detached and detached brick houses which don't look any different from any street... give or take something in size. All similar in colour.

I love walking. It offers me the opportunity to look around and let my mind garner things to mull about. I especially treasure walking in residential areas... they offer the opportunity of a sneak peek into the domestic lives of absolute strangers... a guilty pleasure, outside looking in, longing to belong to the welcoming warmth of whatever hearth that is seen through the window in a glance. I've been chastised for this 'intrusion into the private lives of others' but it's a habit that I rather enjoy indulging. The moment's stolen look, at the way the room looks, people going about chores, even emptiness is one I love catching a glimpse of. A writer's search for ideas and stories perhaps... strange romantic notion at any rate.

* Said incident actually took place where we live in Mysore. The entire populace that owned farmland along a certain route where there is now a spanking new ring road received huge compensations from the authorities for giving up the land in the name of progress. Said compensation has thus been invested, spent, retained and squandered in varying degrees by all concerned parties.

At the Centre of the Literary Circle

Reading is hard work. And I don't mean that in an editorial "Oh dear, being alert at every word, correcting every grammatical, spelling, syntactical and factual error there is!" manner - when you take on a job, you either have what it takes inherently, or you inculcate those skills to become an inherent part of you.

Reading is darn hard work... for me at least. My dogged attempts to savour and understand each and every word on every page to uncover every possible nuance that every reading opportunity proffers notwithstanding - and I do feel like a dimwit at having to compulsively re-read every para a minimum of five times to be satisfied at having grasped whatever meaning I can squeeze out it - reading leaves me exhausted mentally and physically thanks to my habit of not being able to put down a book until I've finished it. My reading speed may be quite good, but it does me no good to stick to such a habit so that I may play with what my eyes percieve, to convert the literal to figurative, back and forth. On the whole, that is what is satisfying about thi entire reading thing, that the literal can offer figurative avenues of exploration and back.

I've noticed that reading for hours on end can leave me with a physiological ache, a sort of breathlessness, without noticing I actually hold my breath till I'm done reading. What I feel afterwards is thirst, incredible thirst. It's no joke then that publishing lunches involve drinking routines... the thirst for knowledge is, figuratively speaking, quite literal.

Madness Cinema Style

Guga wanted to go for a movie with Vroom. And given that her mum would react in typical Indian motherly fashion by objecting to Guga's going out with a boy, Guga asked me for advice... rather, asked me for an excuse to present to her mum so she could go for the movie. Between us and after much brain racking, we still hadn't managed to come up with anything acceptable. It's amazing what that piece of muscle called the brain can dish out when you're least expecting it. Here's what I told Guga:

A: Ok here's an idea... on Friday... leave a note at your place...

G: Note?? What.. what the.. what??!!!!#$%^^%$#

A: ... saying you've run away from home. Go watch the movie when they're going crazy trying to hunt you down and come home later saying you missed home.

Fitting retort

Pav Pav and I were having a lazy evening of it... watching videos, yakking and all the rest when she asked if I wanted to go out for dinner. I refused saying I dislike eating out. To which she retorted "No wonder you're like this" pointing at my skinny frame "You should eat out... it's junk". I replied saying "Even if I were to eat potato chips for an entire month I wouldn't put on weight" Pav got flabbergasted and asked "How??!!! HOW??!!!" I said "It's in my genes!" with an exaggerated gesture. Pav got the last word with

"Can I wear them???"

Tissue Culture

For all you crybabies out there... here's a very handy tip. When the tears start flowing... use tissues from Subway... they don't disintegrate into mush in your hands... they become damp and disgusting but they stay in once piece... stock up!

So much for the faith I kept

So much for the pledges I made

So much for the prayers I sent up

So much for the price I paid



So much for the patience

And so much for the pain

So much for the efforts

That now seem to have been in vain



So much for the joy to be found in small things

So much for the small sufferings

So much for the weep I wept

So much for that night of sleep unslept



So much for everything endured

So much for the complaints

So much for having become inured

So much for a life that with felicity only acquaints

Good Lord!

Dear God,

How have you been?

As just one of the few thousand gadzillion specimens of one of the few thousand gadzillion species that you're responsible for, I'm assuming that you do have time now and then for me too. Yes Ben Elton said "He (Her/It?) created a few thousand other people the day you were born, He probably won't even remember your name" and while that sounds funny, I still would rather continue believing that at some point you do have the tiniest sliver of time just for me. Life being the joke it is and madness being a part of everything... I guess am allowed my idiosycracies. Save this for the time when it is my day. But hear me out.

I have a whole lot of questions... no not the usual boring ones of "Why am I here?" "What is my purpose in Life?" "What happens after we die?" stuff... I've managed to work out some of those... and the rest, I couldn't really care less about. I might have a couple of cliched questions... but you asked for it in creating us few thousand gadzillion creatures that are so darn the same at the end of every darn single day.

Let's first work out this equation between you and me. A whole lot of people give you some form they can believe in, some attitudes and values they believe you shall have and thus, satsified, believe in you, rever you, worship you. You hold no form for me. Like water you say?? No perhaps not... it too has some definite existence... you, in my mind, do not. You're a flexible being... An existence that I do believe in and interact with, but with the easy camaraderie of a long lost friend or cousin that one can share things with and not think too much about when you're away from each other... Someone I trust just accepts my existence and watches from a distance... perhaps pulling a string here and there and laughing in glee at my troubles and reactions. I do not however believe you vengeful... or malicious... maybe you do know what you're doinng pulling those strings... maybe you're blooy clueless yourself... But whatever it is, whether you're a child swallowing mud and then displaying the universe to his mother in there or a grumpy old man who wants nothing more than to be left alone with his things, a young woman of infinite beauty and virtue or a spirited young man taking charge of things with gusto... or maybe just a form... an unfathomable one... I am comfortable with you enough to thank you when am cooking, or curse you for giving women the pains you do.. mental, emotional, physical... and I can say things to you and without there being any reason, feel better for it. I suppose am actually imposing my will on you, into being something I want you to be... but what's so different from the way someone else would imagine you.. maybe just that in my mind you're a liberal free spirit.

That being clear... what have you been doing? to me?

Is this the part where you punish me or are you teaching me something subtly... if it's the subtlety, you ought to know it doesn't work with me... I prefer direct directions. You really ought to think about what you created in me... For evey cliched thing I do, there are about a thousand I do not...thoughts I have sometimes are plain warped...there doesn't seem to be an instruction manual that helps... lost it in the mail, did you? Assuming of course that we're in this together... that would make two of us lost causes... makes for an interesting experiment mind you, but thank you, I'd rather skip some of those tests.

You've made me feel things I hadn't believed possible for me. I just have to ask why. Your reasons of a higher purpose serve me no satisfaction... but then again, you'll take an eternity to answer and make me wait you will... will it help at all to ask for a clue in this time of turmoil?

I know I sound like am complaining a lot... can't help that either since I like my world ordered and the order you have in mind for me does not seem to agree with the order I have in mind for me. And yet, Lord, you've given me a whole lot of great stuff which I cannot stop thanking you for... am not trying to butter you up by saying that... on't see the point of it... loads of other people do it anyway and I definitely believe in being to-your-face... just... you're doing a great job there... be by me just as you have all this time. Did I say thank you yet again? No??? Well thank you very much for everything you've ever done... keep an eye on things and o see about the world peae and women's lib bit... extra brownie points if you get them over in a taxi-second time... cmon, you know I'm right.

Right then... take care of yourself... see you around. Oh that game of scrabble awaits... and yeah... hugs... ok enough beaming now. Show off :P

Love,
Me

Women Only

D has a new cure for those times when you need to let steam off really bad... caution: it's only for the female species... preferably, it ought to be administered by a close female friend. Take a deep breath... and hear your friend say:

"Shall I lend you my b***h?"

Of Things White and Wonderful

I went for a walk to the nearby Clissold's Park with A today... it's amazing how many white things I could find to admire there.

To begin with there were the clouds. London.. any place actually, has cloud formations hanging over them every other day but the ones I saw today were quite spectacular. You just had to look up to see these huge feathery wisps hanging over your head as if they were feathers waiting to swish the air about in a flurry... some looked like combs even. It was something to look about, trace the circumsphere of the planet and then see the clouds in juxtaposition to the planet's largeness... an entirely new perpspective to think about... made me see things differently indeed. For a moment I even gave over to thinking what if this swishy feathry thing above was a spaceship :D

Then there was that group that looked like a whole lot of ice skis had been shacked up randomly inside a shed. And one that resembled a dinosaur's spine. I think I kight have attracted some strange looks from people around as I was rather vocal about my observations... oh heck. I looked up the cloud formations and found out they were Cirrus clouds. They were breathtaking really... huge, pure white and awesome in totality.

Then there was the lone white pigeon we saw in the bird enclosure in the park... a loner among the budgies, cockatiels, lovebirds and parrots of brightly coloured plumage. And of course, the ever present, extremely cute and cuddly rabbits that are my special favourites in the mini zoo... they're always doing funny things... sniffing, eating vegetation adorably, chasing each other or sitting serenely with their big ears at attention... they seem quite deaf though... not one responds to anything you might say or do... big use of such ears I say. Like a friend said, those rabbits are rather 'mentally deranged'.

The last white thing we saw was unquestionably the winner. It was a labrador retriever... out with the owners for a stroll... but oddly enough, although the owners has tennis ball to throw for it to catch and seemed happy enough to do that, the spunky pooch wanted to run after the tennis ball that a bunch of guys were shooting back and forth with racquets... no amount of persuasion from the owners could make it change its mind... it ran back and forth between the players trying to get hold of the ball and even when one of them pretended to throw it but hid it behind him, the dog just ran madly. It seemed to respond only to this one player though... it stood staring at him eagerly while the guy behind it had the ball in his hand waiting to start. Silly dog :)

Moments of insanity... moments of insight

D had been over for the weekend... as with a gadzillion other people in this world who are friends like she and I are... we had our moments. A sneak peek:

1] We're standing by the lift waiting for it to come up so we can storm the common room to watch movies while we dine... I have a whole lot of stuff in my hands, balanced perfectly.

D: Were you Rajnikanth in your last birth?

A: Why?

D: Coz you're holding so many things with such ease

A (laughs, pauses and then says): No I was Rajnikanth's father... If I'd been born as Rajnikanth I'd still be Rajnikanth.

2] My room has a huge skylight that gives my room of one window a whole lot more light than if otherwise structured.

D: What is someone were to come into your room?

A: I lock the door and the window...

D: What if they were to come in from there (Pointing to skylight)

A: I'd complain to the authorities and they'd lose their jobs

D: What if wasn't someone human

A: Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

D: What if it was a female?? then you could see her undies!!!

A: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! What if was a native ghost?

D: You'd see her undies all the more don't you think???

Annd the credit goes to...

In the end it all boils down to just two things:

You either love something (or feel for it in a lesser degree of love) or you don't.

What you can and do love makes life worth it. What you cannot and do not love, you must make peace with.

Making peace, of course, need not necessarily mean burying the hatchet. It could mean new beginnings, separations, endings and even silences. It works. It really does. Because when the end is near and the credits are about to roll, the good work is mentioned... the lighting, the direction, the script, screenplay, dialogue, performance what have you... things that went wrong make news momentarily and contribute to the end product... but what is remembered for long after is the good stuff- the stuff that one lived for. And making peace with things sure as hell gives you a lot more to live for.

Who do you blame for growing up???

When you're growing up, your skin stretches and leaves those stretch marks that you can never really get rid of. Something similar happens to your mind as well... you learn things you can never unlearn. There's no going back.

When you grow up to that level... you have most of the answers you're looking for... which ought to be good enough... but often, it still leaves you with a sense of helplessness and frustration... for although you know exactly what you need to, it doesn't leave you with much scope to let off steam when you need to... specially by passing the buck and blaming someone else for your problems or even just blaming someone for the sheer heck of it.

For every time you want to hold something or someone culpable you have a solidly logical reason why you cannot. Reasons that come in the shape of beliefs, quotes you've read someplace, advice given to you and a whole lot of principles or values you've carefully cultivated to that point... ones which you cannot give up for losing the very essence of what you've become by following those very things. And there isn't anything that survives the onslaught of logic in such cases. Have a look:

"My folks went wrong in quite a few places"

Argument: 'You canot blame your folks for what they did after the age of 25' - Character in Julian Barnes' England, England.

'They could've done worse' - Dr Cox in Scrubs.

"Why can't they bloody well behave themselves!!!"

Argument: You know very well what they're like... it's intheir nature and they're too immature anyway.

"God why can he not understand???!!!!"

Argument: Men!!! It's how they're wired... there's no hope of any of them ever understanding this... it's far too complicated for them.

"I wish my friends would keep in touch regularly"

Argument: Cmon don't fool yourself... you knew very well this was going to happen. Expectations never pay... unless you're having a baby. And sometimes even then they don't.

It's a snafu alright.... Situation Normal All Fd Up. Everyone goes through it... the point is... there's no point ot half the things one tries to find a point for. And you still don't get to blame anyone. At best... a few phrases buzzz around your brain repeatedly:

'What. the. HELL!!!'

'I didn't mean THAT'

'Oh gawd!!!'

'To hell with everything'

'GAH'

'HMPFH'

And a whole lot of times, a very comforting 'Oh Woooooooooooowwwwwwwwwww!!'

The Answer

Asking what enzyme England produces brought forth only one worthy answer.

K says: Dunno that but i guess the 'en'-gland should produce the 'en'-zyme

Expectation doesn't pay... unless you're having a baby.

More English Funnies

What kind of enzyme does England produce????

English Funnies

The Brits seem to have some weird fascination with body parts.... every other pub I know of is named somebody's arms or somebody's head... take a sampler:

The Weavers Arms

The Old King's Head

The Nag's Head

The Drovers Arms

????

Time and relativity

Time is relative... but certainly doesn't seem to be no relative of mine

Priceless quotes

My classmate M was discussing some coursework prep with me and we were entering class where the visiting lecturer was standing.. and here's what she announced rather loudly:

"I've forgotten how to use Powerpoint... it's forgettable.. it's not like something you never forget, like swimming or driving or making out!"

And So I Grew Up

It's a rite of passage. Every girl goes through it at some point. And while I had contemplated that I would have to as well, in the back of my mind it was always somewhere in the future... certainly not a part of my present plans. But I did it today. It's not a big deal they'd say... there are girls who've been indulging for ages now... much younger than I they are too... so I just went along with it. I wasn't sure of my feelings when it was happening... and now that it's over... I still am not sure what I feel or if I shall do it again.... but it's done and it's a part of me becoming womanly.

I got my eyebrows tweezed today for the first time.

Married to work

The realisation that you're a workaholic can dawn upon you in really weird ways.

I was towelling my hair dry and thinking that it was March... and that my former neighbour's baby was due anytime soon... as I made a mental note to ask my mother about it... my mind unconsciously added two words that made the big difference... I was thinking of asking mum about my neighbour's due date... of publication.

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh to Uhhhhhhhh

My friends in my halls of residence dropped in for an impromptu tea session and some conversation. It's late at night and somehow the conversation shifts to telling jokes.

My housemate N starts telling one about a non-verbal spiritual contest between a Tibetian monk and a man from Marrakech. It's that one about how one holds up one finger and the other responds with two.. etc etc... she's explaining it further..."So the monk explains that he held up one finger to indicate one god and his oppnent argued held up two to say..."

"............aaaahhhhh keep doing that, it feels so good"

My other housemate, whose foot I was massaging, interrupted at the wrong moment with that comment and needless to say.. the joke became quite something else then.

Further on, I remembered a similar joke I had read about a non-verbal contest between a sardar and the Pope. I was doing the explanation bit.. "The pope said..."

"I have dandruff in my hair"

That, was my friend J, warning my friend W to quit toying with her hair.

As you can guess, the joke now is that the tibetian monk asked the Marrakech guy to keep doing what he was doing, in a suggestive manner, no less, and the Pope has dandruff.

Snoooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!

24 January, 2007, Wednesday.

It snowed. It SNOWED!!!!!!!

For the first ever time in my life I saw snow up close at hand.... and it was everything that beautiful language ever described it as. Pure white... cold to touch, hardned up into a nice little blob in my hand, coated my glove with a fine layer of cold damp... and looked so beautiful!!!!

I woke up and tore my curtains aside when a friend told me it had snowed during the night... my window only gives me a view of the streets below and a scant corner of the park opposite our building... but even so.. I could see how everything had been transformed by a layer of white powdery snow. The trees looked like they should have at Christmas... people had left enough snow on their cars to get a feel of it while brushing off what hampered their driving. My housemate awoke all horrified and came running out only to have me tell her it snowed... it looked so awesome!!!!

Snow is weird actually.... it settles on vegetation like someone threw stuff in a food fight... but on the building roofs and other flat surfaces, it's like someone's very carefully and lovingly put it there flattening it with a spatula.. like decorating a christmas cake.

I saw a very funny and endearing sight at the bus stop... a couple was walking by with their chubby toddler strapped into his stroller... and I noticed there was a nice blob of snow on the blanket on his lap.... I was about to comment when I noticed how he was entranced by it... curiosity with rapt attention... floored me totally!!!! Made me wish rather wistfully I could've been a toddler... what a memory to have of snow :) of course, assuming that one was capable of having memories at that age.

I wish I could've played in the snow... had a snow fight, chucked snow balls and made someone shriek with cold and laughter.... be paid back.... sigh. It hasn't snowed since... but am still waiting :) Hopefully the next time I wil not be rushing to a class to spend an entire day cooped in while the snow slowly melts away... I shall be free enough to go roll about in the snow in the park... maybe with a dog to make things crazier :)

A magpie's habit and an elephant's memory

I've just been cleaning my room... yeah I know, no big deal... but it was so damn difficult!!!! I'm pretty neat and organised... the problem lies elsewhere. Observations from my round of cleaning up:

1] I'm a pro-recycling person. I used to think this was some kind of phase... but I realise it's actually a habit.. one that can be irritating at times. Not only did I put away papers that had one side blank in a separate folder, I actually hoarded envelopes, put them in a big manila envelope that I stuck a post it onto (so I could use the big one too :P) and marked the Post-it. Knowing me, I'll even keep the post-it in my purse at a later date to scribble a number or address. Obsessive!!!!

2] I'm a bloody magpie. I hoard so much!!!! Among other things, I have receipts, bus tickets, train tickets, notes scrawled in class, various odd pieces of paper I just don't have the heart to throw away. Why???? They remind me of the day it was and seem a much better, more vibrant way of storing my memories... I don't really write a diary so I guess this is a good way. I wanted to put them away in an envelope... but I took some and stuck them up on my notice board... when my folks visit they can have a good laugh seeing it all... but my first bus, train, movie tickets in London and an old railway ticket from Mumbai really do hold a lot of value to me.... the scars that a warrior collected and show how she lived... or some such metaphor :P

The problem is... I'll have to take so much more when I move out... sigh. Besides, if I really do stick to my original plan of destroying my tangible memories before I die, a la Jacqueline Kennedy.. I'll have a hell lot to get rid of.

Living may be easy, may not, Death may be fearsome, may not... the difficulty or ease come from the memories that you gather and leave behind. These are my memories... I wonder what memories of me shall be like

When the Reaper Comes Calling

Having vowed to write more and write anew, this is hardly the subject that I should be pursuing… perhaps. Then again, I might as well, as good as not… this time being as good as any other.

If I am allowed to say this and not sound opprobrious, I have been fortunate enough to not lose anyone very dear to me yet. Long may this continue. It isn’t to say however, that I haven’t met death at all at close quarters. Not-so-distant relations have been my closest experience in losing family members. The one person I can readily bring to mind when I think of having lost is my former neighbour N.

A lad of only 19. A rather jovial, much loved, popular, rebellious-teen who we all wished would get over his ways and grow up. Almost a year and half after his demise, I still cannot completely believe he’s gone. On the face of it, I am bale to say “Before he passed away…” or “It’s been rather awful since he’s gone…” but very very deep within, I still cannot fathom it.

It wasn’t that N and I were specially close.. It isn’t even like he was a brother sort to me. I occasionally used to be irked by his ways too… but having been next door neighbours, we did share much and the better part of my six years in that place ensured I saw quite a bit of him… at some point, we did the things neighbours do… have dinners, play silly games, discuss things, go out, tease each other… he even used to come over for help with his academics to me… I shall never forget telling him he had good grasping powers. Things didn’t stay that good though… N went through the same teenage angst everyone does and somehow changed a lot… I used to feel rather sad about it but somewhere, like people tend to, I got on with my life just as he did and our neighbourliness reduced to leaving keys with each other and the occasional chat when we happened to find the other on our way in or out. Quite often, I used to wish for his sake and that of his family that things would get better… he seemed to be going wrong and hurting everyone. But having never been especially close and having gotten used to not being around each other… we never did get to really talk.

I saw him a month before he passed away. That was what life had come to be… people who saw each other everyday now met once a month. A month.

I still don’t know what I should term my reaction to that piece of news. I only remember my mum saying I was shocked. I remember not being able to say anything about it for the next few days… not even enough to share the news or react.

The return home and that meeting with N’s folks was very hard. I spent a lot of time there when I could hoping to distract his mother (who I fondly address as ‘Ma’) … I remember being told “You’re really brave Anu, to be able to be around them” … I never did figure what bravery that was… not when it was the least I could do for them, not when the people going through that misery were being braver.. like only they could.

N has been gone for what seems an eternity now… I don’t miss N like I might have if we had been closer… but I still find it very hard to believe he isn’t around, creating a racket in the house, arguing in the spirit every teenager does, spending hours grooming himself, worrying over girl problems, experimenting with things… It still feels like he’s around… pity he’ll only ever be 19.

In the time since he’s been gone, I’ve heard people praise him to almost saintly heights… the very same people who used to bitch about how he was being a brat and should grow up and stuff… It’s pathetic how hypocritical people can get after someone’s death. I will not say N was the finest, best person I met… he had his flaws and for what it’s worth, I did wish a lot that his bad phase would be over soon….I wish he had that chance, I wish fervently he had bothered with safety rules, I wish he had been a staid, boring rule-adhering person if that was what it took to save his life… I wish N was around.

It is said death comes second after public speaking as the thing people fear the most. Me, I have a rather skewed view of death. I fear losing my dear ones…but I don’t fear dying.

Not so very long ago, in discussing Kashmir, I exclaimed that Id love to go there to which my classmate M retorted “Are you crazy??? It’s so dangerous… you could die!!!”. I’m yet to understand why the rest of them laughed and why M blanched (weird word… blanched, coz there’s a gal called Blanche I know… so if we all blanche at something, does Blanche ‘Anu’ or whoever/whatever else when she’s taken aback???) Anyway, I don’t get why M blanched when I said “So?? I’d be dead!” What I meant was that, I don’t really give two hoots about dying.. I happen to be very happy with my life and have absolutely no regrets up to this point.. I’ve lived pretty well and wouldn’t feel sorry for not having done something so far… suffice to say, I’m at peace with my existence. I’d feel bad for my loved ones for they’d have a bad time after my death.. but I cannot feel sorry for myself. Why then, should I fear death???

A Dewdrop of Newness

Nearly a year after I started writing my blog, I have but 11 (12 counting this one) to show for my enthusiasm for writing, efforts and wealth of things to express.

11 posts.

I cannot think of anything more pathetic… specially since I’ve been bandying myself as a writer of sorts to whichever poor unassuming victim I can corner. So much for the writer then….

My options therefore are

a) Continue this blog with the pretentious ‘writer’ image I like to put forth and only put up posts which are good reads. OR
b) Write more often, even if it is only to report the kitchen being cleaned everyday by the appointed cleaner

The idea, of course, being that I do a crash course in ‘getting in touch with my inner being’ by examining them in this up-for-show manner… the essence of writing is but obviously that which comes from within. And who knows, my efforts might actually benefit me… like they helped Sam Bell in Ben Elton’s Inconcievable.

Here’s to a whole new beginning then… Here’s to the new sparkling Dewdrop.