Friday, 12 December 2008

Eavesdropping

Girl #1 (waiting for the lift and looking at her reflection) : God, I look so fat..
Girl # 2: Please..don't talk.. you are so thin.
Girl # 1: This is one of those mirrors that show you thin when you're actually fat.

********************************

(A very serious conversation inside lift to Floor 9)

Guy#1: Dude.. guess what.. I figured that you can apply to be a part of LeT online.
Guy#2: F@#$! Are you serious?
Guy #1:I'm serious. All you have to do is fill up a form, they even have like a corporate office and everything.. damn good perks apparently.
Guy#3: How much does it pay?? Did you'll find out?
Guy#4: Is it easy to get in?

**********************************

Girl#1: ARGH. I hate her man.
Girl# 2: Hate who?
Guy#1: She's so dumb. I can lead a team better than her, I swear.
Girl#2: Okay, stop overestimating yourself.

************************************

Girl#1: You think I'd put on weight if I keep eating in the canteen?
Girl#2: I don't know, though I don't think it's good to keep eating here.
Girl#1: why?
Girl#2: I mean.. we might start putting on weight slowly..

**************************************

Guy#1(on a serious phone call from desk phone): Listen, the best thing would be to cut costs right now and put an end to the matter right away.

(3 second pause with hmm hmm hmm..)

Guy#1: Otherwise, call that girl and tell her straight away that you are married to someone else. Really da, in Alaipayuthey it worked.

(1 minute pause)

Guy#1: Seri da maccha, use that other excuse I told you, seriya?

*click*

Wednesday, 10 December 2008

The truth is..

Life will totally totally kill you. And noone tells you that.

Two and a half weeks of work and I can relate to the term 'all-out-corporate-whoring'. Nothing can describe it better, really. Bitching, analyzing, who's doing what, who's doing who, who sucks up, who doesn't, and the end of it all, it boils down to pure, unadulterated bullshit called 'Business'.

Sleepless nights after covering the Mumbai attacks, I went out with the usual gang to Fuga. I couldn't believe myself; here I was, my poor country still recovering from the shock, and I was going dancing. Dancing when people are going to funerals, but here's the strange thing. I had had enough. Enough of sitting and making news for people to read so that I'd get an amazing rating, enough of poring through hundreds of horrific images of death and misery. Really, I needed a break.

NK called sometime then.

NK: Where are you?

Me: I can't hear you, the music's too loud.

NK: I cannot believe you are in a club at this time. I absolutely disapprove of such behaviour.

(Red alert when he starts sounding like my dad)

Me: I just needed a break..

NK: So why couldn't you go out for dinner? Why to a club? You went dancing yesterday, and yesterday was the last day.. There was an aticle in 'The Hindu' about the youth of our country being absolutely indifferent to the issues of our country..

(Double red alert when his lawyer mode on and starts sounding like the Prime Minister)

Me: I just needed a break.. stop lecturing me now..

NK: Fine. It's no use talking to you anyway.

Me: Stop saying that..

NK: Okay.

Me: Stop saying okay.

NK: Okay.

(Perfect example of how boys rarely listen)

After he hung up, I realised our personal fighting rule didn't seem to change the way we saw things either. The next few days, I was back at work.. TV channels were slowly stopping coverage of the attacks, newspapers were not so interested anymore, and my boss walked up to me and said ' Drop Mumbai, take that story on Shahrukh Khan'. I called NK to tell him what I thought of it all, but he didn't pick up. Later that night, he sent a message saying he would talk to me later because he was at a party.

I know he wouldn't be reading this, so I can proudly scream 'And for crying out loud, life goes on doesn't it?'. How terrible it sounds.

The real world is changing me. And I'm in a place I absolutely don't want to be, yet I hope its for the better.

Sunday, 30 November 2008

The week of firsts and other important issues in life

It's Sunday, and I'm sitting in my office. That should explain the work life to my friends who crib that they can't find a job.

Things have been good the first week actually. I figured that every other person I know hates my boss, and that doesn't change a thing because she's the boss. The canteen breakfast is pathetic but the spread for lunch is fantastic and can even to make you fall asleep at your desk. Have also figured that having my Gtalk status as 'Busy.At work' sounded so pathetic because I've begun to sound like 'one of those' people I didn't want to be EVER. It's just sort of hitting me how difficult my life is going to be:

1) My social life is looking worse than the financial crisis.

2) If I'm going to be working for the next half of my life... OH MY GOD. I'll be working for the next 3/4th of my life, not even half.

3)There are so many things I need! Shoes to begin with, nice party wear, some tees, uhm.. slippers..random pretty junk..earrings.. Jeez. This is so unfair. I need to get paid more.

4) And if I don't get paid more, I might die in debt.

5) And if I don't work more, I won't get paid more..

6) And if I do work more, then its goodbye to social life.

SIGH.

My life is so complicated.So unfair.

Thursday, 20 November 2008

Losing myself

I'm sorry, but I've been up to here doing stuff that feel so wonder-woman to me.Really I'm not exaggerating.

UPDATE:

3 weeks earlier


Have been fighting with HR guy from American company who seemed more interested in letting me know why 'my skills' weren't that great after all instead of listening to what I have to say. HR girl seemed better. Why don't guys EVER listen? If he had paused for breath, I could've told him he had a nice voice at least. Well, I said AT LEAST.

2 Weeks earlier

HR guy resorts to desperate measures and starts ringing me at seven thirty in the morning asking 'Uhm.I'm calling from American Company.Are you free to speak for a few mins?'. JEEZ. At seven thirty?Is he kidding me? Ok, even that was forgivable. But then he's flooded my inbox asking to reply 'urgently' because 'the position is crucial'. As if. More or less of a 'dude, if you don't take this you don't have anything anyway'. I didn't want to make life easier for him of course, so I told him that 'I'd think about it' and would 'let him know of my decision soon'. Bah.

1 week earlier

Ok, I gave up. Was busy weighing my options and all that crap, and NDTV flashes that we are going to be in serious trouble in the new future and all. What's with this damn world. God. Then I've got people telling me that it's better to take this up than sit around jobless (which made sense slightly but still). So I tell my folks that I've got to pack up and leave to another city to start work in American company. Oh ya, needless to say mega prime-time serial type drama followed. Also noticed that my folks have adopted new way of talking to me i.e. they email me. I cannot tell you how funny this turned out. I'm mailing Amma and Appa when they are in the same house. When I asked Amma later, she says she just finds it easier to put up with disobedience over email. WHAT.

5 days ago

My entire family decides to drop me off at Bangalore. I cannot believe Amma took off work. This is the first Vijayann family vacation in forever.

3 days ago

I walked into the office of American company at the heart of Bangalore city. Turns out my desk is right near HR guy.

Hah! I'll save the gossip for later.I don't have time anymore, I'm a working woman now you see. Giggle, giggle.

Sunday, 2 November 2008

The Whole New World,politics, Obamania and other such things.

'I'm asking you to believe, not just in my ability to bring about real change in Washington.. I'm asking you to believe in yours'. 
                                                                                                     - Barack Obama.

America's waking up to a new world, or so it seems. The race is over and the White House has thrown its doors open for the first black man. Everyone is happy, in fact, exhilarated beyond vision. A 600 million dollar campaign had paid off. At least, something got people glued to their television sets, and distracted them from their real world misery. David Plouffe has every reason to ruffle his feathers and smile ear to ear. His work's paid off as well. Don't get me wrong, I wanted Obama to win hands down; America needed someone who didn't want to fight evil and the world needed to see change in the country it really couldn't do without. But here in the real world around me, things have gotten no better. So I apologize if I don't sound that excited to scream 'O for OBAMA!' the hunderedth time. Or in true madras basahai - 'Obamakku oru O podu!'.

While America's been surfing high waters of change, India's been sinking lower. Lower, lower and lower. The last DMDK youth conference held by Vijayakanth, strangled traffic on Mount Road for four to five hours. No, there was no legal action taken. Then, there's a raid on the home of a television actor by around 50 DMDK party cadets for personal reasons. Noone went to jail for that, not surprising is it? In Maharastra, Raj Thackeray is leading an anti-marathi parade. This, in a country that boasts of the being the most culturally tolerant nation. In the north-east dozens of militant separatist groups are beoming active. Noone cares, bombs have become an everyday deal. Rakhi Sawant hogs primetime for winning a dance show on a famous news channel. Surprising? Naah, It's India. This is where we just let everyone be.

 In the past year, India has sunk lower on the scale of corruption, crime and security. Now with the recession slowing taking over, alot more people are dying of hunger, alot more people are in debt, and alot more criminals going scot-free. Will a new political system relieve us the way the current elections swept away the old American mindset? Probably it would, probably it wouldn't. But here's the thing about depending on presidents, elections and business party politics in terms with a whole new world. There will never be an end to terrorism unless the government stop funding terrorists, politicians don't care about the people either, they care for votes. what's left is an anonymous mass of people - ourselves. And the only choice we have is to be the change we want to see in the world around us. I don't know when we are going to realise it, but I think on that note, I cheer for Obama one last time. I cheer for probably the first president who wrote his own speech. I cheer him for keeping the faith alive.

Go Obama!

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

And the world must know

 that the name of my sister's college principal is Freddie Mercury. 

Monday, 20 October 2008

Nice things happen to the wrong people. Sniff.


Typical email from NK to BCC'd list finds itself at the top of my inbox this morning. It read : 

Subject: My latest acquisition-- my pups!

Hi,

please find attached the zipped folder containing the pictures of my two little pups. I have in addition to these two another lab which is evidently not in the pictures. The Bassett hound is named Vito, the lab in the pic is called Max, and the other lab is called Nero.

Kindly revert for further clarifications.

NK.






I wonder if lawyers should be sent to letter-writing schools.


Wednesday, 8 October 2008

Conversation with dad:


Me: Pa, I'm going to marry whoever I want.

Him: I've got to see him first.

Me: No one's ever going to be good enough to you, you'll have a problem with everyone.

Him: Yes.

Me: Why is that?

Him: Because no one is good enough.

Me: ???!

Tough love is an oxymoron

I've come to realise that it becomes increasingly difficult, as time passes, to unlove anyone. I mean, that's just it. No matter how you try you cannot unlove anyone or anything. How absolutely deliberate of God, seriously. Like a hundred year sentence isn't long enough.


I was looking at last year's People-I've-got-to-kill-before-I-die list this morning, and couldn't help but think - really, I mean they weren't all THAT bad. The thing is, at some point, I think you just give yourself time to heal and the things that hurt so bad once don't hurt quite as much now. So, there. I sat striking all their names one by one: forgiving Miss.M for making me kneel in the hallway after prep, forgiving the Buffoon for being my worst nightmare throughout school, forgiving the Jackass for still being who he is, forgiving that girl-next-door who lied to me. Forgiving. Forgiving. Forgiving. That's all I did all morning, until 1 pm. Because at the stroke of 1, I reached the one name that I could not get myself to cross - NK. Could I really forgive him? 

We clearly don't feel a thing for each other - or so we have believed for the past years. Yet, why would two people so insanely different, who get to see each other just once every year, who fight so often, who are headstrong and stubborn, and who have their futures all 'sorted out' still accommodate the other person in their lives? I don't know the answer, and I'd leave it upto you to figure it out.

And  forgiveness. Wouldn't forgiveness erase all the bitterness in a second? Then why was it so hard to strike his name out from the list?

possible reasons could be:

1) that he cheated me.

2) that he was so close to me, and he still lied. About her, about his feelings for her, and about what he felt for me. So, back to point no.1.

3) the worst part is that he still means alot to me. As a friend, and as a confidante. And back again to point no. 1. 

 How extraordinary we were - two people who cannot sort their differences out then and there, and who keep a thing going on for years together, brimming with unfinished sentences, unfinished arguments, and worst of all unfinished conversations. It's like - there's always something but there's nothing. And then to make it worse, going around attaching meanings to alot of nothing; like ignoring phone calls, never replying to emails, and being perennially busy. How silly of me. Of course, I should've known. 

But, probably this is why there are times when you can love a person so much and hate them with equal measure. Or you can hate a person simply because you like them so much. Maybe this is why we could never unlove people entirely too. Maybe this is also why it is so hard to forgive them. They mess up your life in ways that you could never repair it, yet they fill spaces that were empty with their presence. I thought about it for a long while, and realised that I couldn't score out his name as yet. I am not ready enough. Not now. If unconditional love is the only way forgiveness is possible, and hatred the price I will pay for it, I don't think I'm ready for the bargain.

This post is something I never thought I'd write. But as Pitseleh says, a therapist costs money, a blog doesn't.


Friday, 3 October 2008

Is there a new word for (dis)tasteful?


A man carrying a Burberry umbrella worth 200$?


 A baby wearing a Fendi bib worth 100$?

Does this remind us of over-exploitation or the underbelly of India? In fact, this reminded me of a few  other photos that Vogue carried earlier.


inspired by the horror of Abu Ghraib prisoners? 



and this?

apparently they were inspired from..



Please, someone get them new talent. Or at least some grey matter.

(Source for pictures: printculture, Michelle Malkin, Huffington, and NYtimes)



Changing times, old clothes and new habits.

Pardon my absence, but I am currently walking the plank, blindfolded, and I know there are a whole lotta sharks waiting to feast on me. In fact, I'm just waiting to be pushed forward.


After three day trips to Bangalore, meeting up with childhood friends who've changed, crazy job interviews and trying to convince mum and dad that I've grown up, I'm exhausted. Not because of the travel, but because of the change. It's so hard to get accustomed to. Now, I've got to shop for 'work clothes', and neat purses, and tidy my hair up to look 'suitable for work'. Depressing isn't the word, I tell you. The world seemed so much nicer when we were in college. No worrying about bills, or taxes, or late night shifts. No worrying about travelling, or fuel, or whether I could just get a day off. 

I'll probably be pushed off to swim with the sharks soon. If there's anything that could offer me comfort right now, I think it'd just be a week of sleep. Or maybe, something more comfortable, like a coma.


Tuesday, 16 September 2008

Why won't I listen?

Because it is plain depressing.

Here's a quick recap of today:
The financial markets are down. Lehman brothers- Merrill Lynch double whammy. Serial blasts. The Congress is in dilemma. Eighty five billion to save AIG. Woman sets maid on fire. Teen stabbed 666 times in satanic rite. Quake hits western Maharashtra. Another Indian girl found dead in the US. Dengue fever spreads. Acute milk shortage in Patna.

Really. I couldn't care less. After throwing all the newspapers in my house into the bin, I watched Cartoon Network with my baby sister.

-------------------------------------------------------

Ignorance is bliss at times. 

Monday, 15 September 2008

A birthday toast


To idiocy,
      without which no-one could
ever be
     Friends.

To arguments,
      without which no-one could
ever share
      their differences.

To love,
     without which no-could
ever find
      the depth of existence.

Happy Birthday pretty boy,
 Have a lovely 23rd.
 
              Love,
             M.

Sunday, 14 September 2008

A series of fortunate events.

For once, my life is taking control of me. My ongoing personal crisis with jobs and relentless complaining about how the world could possibly be such a cruel, unfair, greedy place seems to have sent a telepathic signal to Zeus. Or lesser, not-so-popular-yet-super-kind-God, like say, Arabinose. At least it meant someone was listening.


Fortunate event #1

American company calls for an interview in desperation. I knew it was in desperation because the mail had a smiley in it. A SMILEY. Potential employers using smilies in emails always answers a two way question. Firstly, you know that they will take you even if you don't seem like you could contribute in the least way to the company. Secondly, you could also play your cards and make them wait. No, I'm not in the least surprised and I must say I've been playing aces - now they are willing to pay me how much ever I want just to keep me. And no, I won't apologize for being a brutally honest and sly money-minded minx. I need to be able to afford that trip to Central America.

Fortunate event #2

Remember how I felt that I'd never be able to churn out that book? turns out that there might be a publishing house that is interested in reading unsolicited manuscripts. The woman who spoke to me was also an uncompromising feminist. I knew it because she had just published a whole load of women writing which made no sense to me. All the same, both feminist nature and enthusiasm to read manuscripts appealed to me. Maybe, like maybe, there might be a teeny weeny chance she might like what I've written - especially since it involves a lot of heterosexual relationship bashing.

Fortunate event #3

After an entire month of bitching with girlfriends about the asperities of sharing the planet with the male species, NK has made me change my mind. Of all people- NK. But then I got thinking, maybe they aren't all that bad. He has actually returned all calls and messages over the past week playing professional lawyer, best friend and outright ass at the same time. I guess it also has to do with the 'famous-NK-birthday' coming up which involves alot of women, alcohol, binge drinking and a warped body clock. But anyway our lack-lustre conversations have actually started to sound like normal conversations now. Part way I think there are calm seas and sunshine ahead; the distance doesn't seem too bad now.

Also to add to it, I just found out that mum had left an insane amount of Gulab jamuns, Besan laddoos and Khoa in the fridge. Ah, life can be so awfully sweet at times. I feel so much better when it takes care of me rather than the other way around.

(This is for the three people who have made me listen to the Sunscreen Song over the past years- Uthree, NK and Gradwolf)

Tuesday, 9 September 2008

22/ Quarter-life crisis.

No, it isn't just the Goodbye-to-college-drama and Phone-number jotting to blame. It also has alot to do with sleeping 24/7, retrieving old phone numbers from scraps of paper, calling people I've ignored long enough, trying to fix things on the job front, being awfully jet-lagged, and getting used to travelling half-way across city to shop.


Also, I've been drawing lots all morning to help me decide. Not that it is (in the least way) helpful, but heck, at least its something. I've never been this uncertain about my life. Earlier, I actually liked this whole uncertainty thing. It made things seem more exciting. Now I'm starting to wish I was one of those people who applied to Oxford three years ahead - Just in case.

Appa tells me that everyone feels confused at twenty two. He doesn't even believe me that there are some people I know who knew what they wanted to do from the time they were, say 0 years old. For eg. The Scientist knew what he wanted to be from age 3. His parents and him had it all figured out by the time he was 5. Then there's NK, who decided early on that his talent for arguing with me would pay off in Law school. When I tell Appa this, he yells and says if I'm going to compare myself to people I'm never going to get anywhere, later adding that if I so badly wanted to become a writer, to take a pen and start writing now.

Now, I've been thinking about my downhill-spiralling life all morning with a pen in my hand: Twenty two. No big fat paycheck. Not even small measly one for that matter. Clueless. Two degrees. 

The only thing I feel like writing now is my obituary.

Thursday, 28 August 2008

Priceless.


My favourite of the four of us on the Swiss rail.Yes, I said four. Not two.

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

Housing on campus and the hell within.

I'm very tolerant. Really.Not that I am a real joy to live with, but I tolerate more than the next person. Sadly, now it feels as if I've got to remind people about how nasty I can be.

The Onion people who live with me have absolutely no clue how good a vaccumed carpet and a clean kitchen can feel. No, they really don't. And it is p.i.s.s.i.n.g. off. The poor carpet would scream if she had a voice. Onion peels, rice grains, dried dal, biscuit crumbs, bread crumbs and what-not. The last time T and I had tried to make a deal, they swore we would take 'turns' in emptying the garbage. And so much for the talk, they stood watching T , Goel and I as we dragged two dripping (I think it was spoilt yogurt.Eww.) stinky bags late at night just so we can sleep without the entire flat smelling like a pig pen.

T and I had mentioned it a number of times, For. e.g.

T : ' Listen Onion#1. I mean, our kitchen looks really diry, let's do our dishes and vaccum the carpet..'

Onion #1: 'yes yaar, really.. it's dirty, no problem..' she munches on something very high-calorie and dusts off crumbs onto the carpet.

Me (second try): Listen you guys, I mean, we might not get our deposit back if our flat looks like this.. its really dirty..'

Onion #1: 'Arre.. ya I know, we better get it back yaar..'. More munching, more spilling.

Argh.

ARGH.

Sick.Sick.Sick.Sick!

If this were America, I'm sure I could sue. But since its not, I'm going to try the next best thing.

Murder.

Saturday, 23 August 2008

#1.

Surprisingly, Former class topper turned enemy turned best friend turned lawyer sends me a rather sweet text message that read:

'I got your mails. The postcard was wonderful. and it makes me sad that its the last mail from England'.

I am busy wondering whether it was actually a hint of an I-am-missing-you-a-little-bit or please-stay-in-England-and-do-not-return-EVER.

As of now, I'm comforted by the fact that boys talk in riddles so that you can never figure what goes on in their lousy heads. Since he wouldn't read this anyway, I must also tell you that he might not have meant anything at all. But then, who knows.

Boys are boys.

And girls are girls. Hah!

Thursday, 21 August 2008

The truth is illusionary.

Earlier this week, I had received an automated reply saying: Prof. Shortcake would not be available until the 1st of September to read my draft.

What.Was.She.Thinking.

After an entire three days of cribbing, I've decided to forgive her because she probably needed to see life outside that lonely hell-hole of an office she sat in. Well, actually I forgive her just for wanting to see life.

So much for an education, my university is run by the a bunch of academic yahoos who I sometimes feel do not know a damn thing about the real world. For instance, Prof.B. and Prof.Im-a-know-it-all who took my core module in the first term who could talk for hours on 'Media and the effects of television in spreading AIDS awareness in Africa' or 'How the Gulf war changed life for an invalid stuck somewhere in Iceland' knew probably nothing about how difficult life actually was in Africa, or that people weren't really affected that personally by the Gulf War.

Someone needs to tell them, noone gives a damn.

I remember people go on about the education I would have if I studied abroad, the way I would learn to see things differently, the way I should meet people from other cultures. Now, a year has passed.I've researched this and researched that. Every godforsaken soddy subject that has possibly been studied in Social science. Yet, I've had only eight hours of class a week, four essays, and a dissertation (which I am told does not matter in the least as it will not get me a job). BIG DEAL. Now if I were to weigh the education I received in India to education here, I think I'd gladly give it a 50/50. In India, people literally killed themselves to get to the best engineering and law colleges. Here, people go through hell to get into the club of the Greater common good that only talk all big about the world outside. And do nothing. Either I am confined to books, or I'm confined to 'an academic way of life'. What cost both ways? It's like a choice between being blind in my left eye or my right eye.

Somewhere inbetween, the importance of being trivial is lost.

I still haven't lost hope though. I must ask Prof. Shortcake how her little pancake party by the Thames went. I hope there was no research involved.

The truth she sees might be illusionary, but maybe this time it was necessary.

Well, Good for her.

Wednesday, 20 August 2008

Trials and tribulations

Everyone around me seem to be having a crisis of sorts. Particularly of typical English variety - For instance, finding housing for around 50 GBP hoping it comes with at least enough breathing space for a mouse, or whether we would get jobs, or worse still, what happens if we get those jobs in the worst hovels of un-merry England where there might be no 50 GBP houses and no sane people.

As usual, poor laid-back and not-so-ambitious me has listened to everyone's troubles for the past week and been on exceptionally good behaviour. Even at the swear-y parts. I'd joined in complaining at dinner, discussing the day's house-hunting disasters, sulking, grieving about what after-college life would be like. You know, that sort. And I must say I had been enjoying myself tremendously, till it hit me that my countdown timer is showing an all-time low of 12 days.

Jeez.

Just when I start enjoying the fact that life could be a big joke, reality comes and ruins it. Seriously.Isn't life bad enough? I wish there was something else to worry about other than jobs; why can't everyone just relax.Look at me,I'm Youtubing still..

Oh my God.Wait a sec.. Youtube has a CAREER section.

Yay!

Thursday, 14 August 2008

To India, with Love.





'Distances
but
teach from afar,
racing time
racing age
yet at home in our hearts'







With love on your 61st.
M.V.

Tuesday, 12 August 2008

My countdown timer reads 21 days 09 hours 25 minutes and running seconds. I cannot believe it. I've got to shop all I want, eat about a million Yorkie bars, lose some weight, do my dissertation, print it, bind it, throw it in that crappy submission shelf, travel, ship my luggage home, go to WY playhouse, and all I get is 21 days?

Argh.

This is so unfair. This is why leaving college totally totally sucks. It wouldn't hurt if I had a year more.At least then I would've had enough time . Two weeks will just fly by before I can even finish an iota of this goddamn disssertation. I don't know what's worse right now, graduating college in two weeks or regretting half the things I didn't do later. It's not my fault. Its the Universe's. Its not fair that humans get only a hundred soddy years to live. Really, even vampires get seven hundred. And that too when they don't even deserve it. Greedy blood-sucking devil spawn.

I need more time in my life.

ARE YOU LISTENING YOU UP THERE.

sulk.sniff.

I don't want to leave college.

Sunday, 10 August 2008

How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.

- Alexander Pope
(Eloisa to Abelard)

I watched this movie about lovers and memory today. I can't tell you much except that the girl had carrot coloured hair. Tangerine Perhaps. Sometimes it was blue.. sometimes she had it green but most of the times it was just, you know, carrot coloured. I was watching it halfway through my third bag of Tyrell's sweet chilli and red pepper. I've got to stop. Damn, I've got to stop.

The funny thing was, I felt as if I was watching a version of me on screen; dysfunctional, impulsive, easily angered, stubborn and selfish me. And it felt like I was stuck in a time warp inside my own muddled head.Time. Memory. Colours. Love..

I like it when movies do that though, you know, when they sort of feel like a reflection of your life. It makes you feel as if you are looking at your life played out by two absolute strangers and you realise that probably what you've been through isn't so crazy after all.I wonder how it might be if we all erased people we wanted to forget, from the depths of our minds and the corners of our hearts.

Would there be black vacant spaces inside of us then?


Friday, 8 August 2008

Oh my God, I have to lose weight. No, you don't understand.I can't seem to fit into my favourite jeans. Not fitting into favourite jeans can only mean that Yorkie bars and Chips are showing their true colours. And my arms are starting to resemble Jayalaitha's. What am I turning into? I can't even hide them. In another few days I'm going to look like Fat Monica. This stupid internet is not helping my case either. First my hair, now my arms. To top it all, I type in 'How to lose flabby arms in ten days' in my Google search box and get this.

The Question : How do u lose flabby arms? (by Ms.Desperate).

The Solutions:

  1. Cut them off. - Phil,W. San Francisco.
  2. Ask Oprah, She has the same problem. - Crumrudge.,XXooXX.
  3. Cycling machine will reduce flabby arms - Nicole, H., Indiana.
  4. Dude, What are you saying? Cycling doesn't have anything to do with arms. - Sparkle, Ohio.
  5. Surgery. I mean eating healthy takes alot of time.. - WHATEVER.
  6. hi, its good that u are so consious. I wish i were also this consicous.Do you have flabby chins also?I'm soooo fat.. - Darsee, the angel.
Ok, so much for Google making our lives easier.

Especially mine. Hmpfh.

Argh. This is ABSOLUTE misery. I am never going to have rapunzel-type hair. I hate all these stupid shampoos and I'm going to throw all of them in the bin right now. I've started to shed more hair than my dogs! How much sadder can my life be? And it has nothing to do with nutrition because I'm eating well. Yorkie bars and chips not counted. But I've been eating mushrooms and peas and all those things. There's enough hair in my dustbin to donate to Tirupathi for the next four and a half years. What am I going to do? I am surely going to be baldilocks with the three hairs not rapunzel! I am never going to join advertising companies and promote these dumb, no-good, good-people cheating shampoos. I should have believed Appa when he said all those people wore wigs. I am not going to trust anything from now on. And that goes for hair oil too, Esp. Parachute. Like, damn all of you. This world is just so full of waffle-cock.

The world is so unfair.Now, I'm not going to comb my hair for the next five days, that way, I save time and hair.

But on the other hand, I'm also happy that T's hair is falling. Her bun looked more or less the size of a golf ball today. Giggle. Well, if I'm going down, I'm taking her with me. I need some company if I'm going to pull a Eva Salvail.

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

I've been thinking alot about my life lately and wish I'd stop. I really really wish I could stop my mind talking. It's like listening to a godforsaken stuck cd-player. And Youtube is like the greatest man-made nightmare of all time. Seriously. I've watched more videos in the past half hour than a Spielberg prototype watching re-runs.Click.Click.Click. I don't know what I hate more right now, this worthless dream of joining the spiritless mass of a workforce after university or the fact that I feel like I've done nothing remotely useful in the past few months.

I haven't seen the great outside forever now, thanks to a sorry piece of research work my academic bargain demands. Which, by the way doesn't even mean anything to anyone as I'm simply a 'Master's student'. For all this trouble, I could've packed my bags and retired to living in a treehouse in the Amazon. At least, that could've been exciting.

And now since I've finished my daily rant, I'm off to T's room to see what she's doing.

Oh, wait. Maybe I'll watch that Jon McLaughlin video again.

England.

It makes me feel as if I am in a void afterlife..it feels like a postcard gone wrong.. nothing fits.Nothing lasts.

Perfection is such a flaw.

Monday, 4 August 2008

----------------------

Sometime in 2006 -

2 a.m

Me: NK, are you awake?

NK: Yes.. am awake. What's wrong?

Me: There's a power cut here. I'm freaked out of my mind, its so dark. Talk to me, I just can't tolerate the darkness.. its creepy..

NK: What's so freaky?

Me: The Darkness!!!

NK: So do you sleep with your eyes open every night?

POV 1 - A ballad to black innocence and blue skies.

I think what we need is the return of a macabre killer Goddess. The one who punishes by cutting people's heads off, and wears decorative pieces of skull and bone jewellery while she stomps around relishing the taste of blood and mankind. She has the power to destroy, the power to make her own decisions and more importantly, the power to define just how fair is 'fair'.


I am a social sciences and media student.I am supposed to be seeing the world in grey, not black and white. But it seems impossible, and so difficult to live in a continuous tone when everything around you is black or white. I cannot get myself to view sexual violence against any person (be it man or a woman) as anything but as violence against a person's right to an emotional state of mind. I'm being as objective as I can, but seriously, there are few questions I would like to ask.

Firstly, in a country (as in rest of the world) such as ours where crimes by men far outdo female crimes, why is it still that women are the ones who are brought up with strict moral instruction? Why shouldn't men be taught to behave? Secondly, if men have the right to wear whatever they choose to, so do women. The 'provocation' argument is out of the question. Women don't go around pawing shirtless males (if there be any good ones) on the road, or guys walking aorund in shorts.
In fact, I must say that I welcome the new reform in murder laws in Britain. There will now be no cases of people killing supposedly nagging and cheating spouses. Of course, I still think domestic violence is something that needs to be looked into and not seen as a 'normalcy' of heterosexual relationships. There is nothing normal about husbands and wives battering each other to death and burying the remains in the backyard. Yes, sadly I believe the practice is quite common in Britain.


And for our country's good educated first class lawyers who champion that there should not be a death penalty for rapists, I wonder what they'd think about it if their wives and daughters got pawed at by a bunch of assholes. Would they file a case that sits in a sessions court for the next half of the century or would they be man enough to beat the bastard till he can't ever touch another woman? I wonder. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against lawyers, I respect them alot. I have my share of intelligent lawyer friends to bail me out as well, but seriously. All everyone talks about is evidence, how does one provide evidence when the injury caused cannot be seen? In that case,wouldn't there be no evidence whatsoever of love, faith, hope
, or even of a consciousness?

Our newspapers on the other hand have promoted sexual violence to an extent that we have begun to think that it is normal. Why is it normal to be taught to fear everything that is male? its ludicrous. Noone is born a victim. Right?


I don't know what's worse, men who refuse to behave or women who refuse to stand up for their rights. But I've sure figured one thing.



Justice is a game of
chess.


It's a game that is about strategy and winning, abiding yet slithering under that thin sheath of law. And in a country like India, so long as you (have the money and have power) you champion for justice. For whose? Yours alone. At what cost? if you have the money, then you could afford to buy yourself a life, but what for the teeming millions who don't?



Maybe I will keep a sickle under my pillow.

Just in case.


(The views expressed here are entirely my own, and even if you want to, I cannot publish flak, you could do that on your own blog though)

Sunday, 3 August 2008

----------------

I have got to stop this habit of drinking coffee thrice a day. And reading blogs. Argh.

This god-awful cold is to blame.


-------------------------------

There's a song from the movie Evita that reminds me so much of my life. In fact, its lyrics describe everything I have ever felt and asked myself, over months.. and years.


It feels now as if I was destined to keep moving. The last time my cupboard at home actually held something that belonged to me was when I was eight. After that, I've lived off the trunk I had inherited from dad. It was the same trunk that he had taken to boarding school for twelve years. It was the trunk that held all his memories once..today it holds mine. It stayed with me through nine years of boarding school, three years of college, when I happened to stay in the best hostel in the city, and now a year in University, far far away from anything I have called home.


And, suddenly, it seems that I've got to start packing again.

But to where?

The only answer I know is that it will be another home.. another place where I will eventually have to live off my suitcase, where I will eventually settle down. But even that is easy, the hard part is saying goodbye. Goodbye to T, Goel and Zen. Goodbye to a year of new found friends and good times. But then again, thinking about it, I must say I've become accustomed to it. This strange..moving life of mine. There are just more odd things to add to my trunk.

'
I don't expect my love affairs to last for long
Never fool myself that my dreams will come true
Being used to trouble I anticipate it
But all the same I hate it, wouldn't you?


So what happens now?
Another suitcase in another hall
So what happens now?
Take your picture off another wall
Where am I going to?
You'll get by, you always have before
Where am I going to?
....

- Evita

There really couldn't have been better words to describe my life... Oh well, but then again, I'll get by as I always have before..


Saturday, 2 August 2008

Different perspectives on the KNOT.

What's with everyone getting married?Jesus. These are people who are my age! Isn't the math easy?

Marriage = living SEVENTY FIVE years with the same person.

How very romantic.

How very scary.

Revathi tells me she does not want to marry a Mallu guy who's born and brought up in Malluland. He should be Mallu born and brought up some place else.He should also be very rich.Very smart.

Uthree tells me in a very American way that 'It all boils down to my parents because they hold the key to many decisions in my life still'. I think Uthree might stay in the US for longer where she holds the key to her decisions. Of course, she doesn't agree.

Cat wants to get married. She's been all about weddings from the time I've known her. Typical Monica from friends, I can imagine what her wedding would be like - There'd be perfect flowers, perfect clothes, perfect bridesmaids, and most importantly the perfect groom. Seriously, God help humanity if anything imperfect happens.

Siddharth thinks that marriage is a silly deal. He doesn't believe in it he says. What is the deal about two people living for the rest of their lives together right?We've got just one life, we might as well use all the cards.

NK will be a very obedient boy and marry girl according to family wishes. Even if he does like someone, the family will have to give the 'go ahead'. Thinking about it, NK s perfect soap opera material. He can play the sensible, extra hardworking boy with a vicious witch of a wife. Perfect it'd be.

Kutty has given up all hope when it comes to guys. Totally.

T wants to get married and does not want to get married at the same time. For all she is, I hope she doesn't marry anyone out of sympathy. Her big heart needs some shrinking for her own good.

And me. The only time I had ever taken the marriage deal seriously was when I considered marrying Michael Jackson. I'd even sworn to myself that I'd wait till I became twenty to do that. I made my dad get me this lifesize poster of him to stick on my wall so I could look at him everyday and everynight, had all the albums he had ever possibly released ( not his Jackson-five days). In fact I remember I even watched 'Moonwalk' about twenty times and cried every time he got hurt. Then I think I went a little crazy, and my parents had to put an end to it when I had exhausted about five film rolls shooting pictures of his songs on TV. That made about one hundred and eighty blank shots of the TV, my camera confiscated and my Michael Jackson dream coming to an end.

Well, OK, at least I took it seriously and everything for an eight year old.

IMAGINE IF MY DREAM EVER CAME TRUE.

Thank God for small mercies.

P.S. Please God, tell me where Charming is.

Travel notes - Scarborough, North Yorkshire.

T, Goel, Zen, The Scientist and I took a bus up North a while ago. We had heard of limestone cliffs, castles and beaches that stretched on forever.

If you have heard Simon and Garfunkel's rendition of 'Scarborough Fair', you might have imagined a place that one got lost in.. a place where knights rode white horses .. where rivers laughed and skipped over brooks and stones into the endless sea..




In reality, it is nothing like it. The town is shrouded in some sort of mystic silence.Its beaches are calm.. its people live in a world of their own..

The first place we headed to was South bay. It was where Edward II's famous 'Scarborough castle stood'. Empty. Forlorn. The ruins looked undisturbed by time and promise.

The guide booklet we were given told us that King Edward II gave the castle as a gift to his (possible) lover who was later executed. Hah. So much for Romance and Blue blood in the 13th century.

We expored the castle for a bit before we headed down to the seaside. There really wasn't anything much to look at. But here's something interesting that we did not expect to see..

For those of you who cannot get a clear view, this is 'Anne Bronte's grave'. What's so special about Anne Bronte's grave? Well, probably nothing at all.. but if you have read 'The Tenant of Wildfell Hall' you will realize that we were standing barely steps away from one of the most prominent figures in Victorian England.


The roads were packed with souvenir shops and fish n chips stalls. The five of us finally had to settle for some orangeade and water to survive the heat. Before you ask, yes, summers can get awfully dry and hot.

After lunch at this small joint (which had ceiling fans!) we walked down to the harbour to watch the sunset before we headed back home..

The long road to Sunshine, beaches and peaceful living..


Wednesday, 30 July 2008

Travel Notes - Leeds, West Yorkshire


There was once a kingdom here, the Chestnut guy tells me. An ancient Celtic Kingdom called Elmet, in the middle of forest called 'Loidis'. Of course, there are no remains of it, but I believe if you walked through the city today, you could still feel the beauty of the middle ages - lost somewhere in its primitive squalor.

Its beautiful chapels have been turned into a jumble of nightclubs. No, the locals don't seem to have a problem. They love their public houses as much as they love God. Most of the churches in Leeds are small and independent, just as the town people. They find love and worship in small things - community service, clerical work and industrial labour. But what does one see in Leeds?

I also figured that people from Leeds aren't called Leed-ians (like Londoners in an obnoxious way). They call themselves Loiners.

Sounded kind of gross to me.

Loiners?

Sounds like a bunch of shags, like one of the guys said. Ah well, who cared.


The city centre (probably the smallest city centre you might have ever been to) is a fifteen minute walk from the University Campus. Located off Briggate, it houses an entirety of shops and retail outlets. You couldn't really afford anything in Victoria Quarter for all its worth (unless you have recently robbed a bank). For example, the sign at the window said the pretty red Westwood dress 'just' cost nine hundred pounds after a fifty percent discount.


Its the nonchalance of the city that touches you eventually; its life is slow, mellow, distant from the humdrum of activity. People sing.. they dance.. noone cares.noone notices. After a week of living here you might probably befriend the handful who live here. The other half you don't meet, you can recognize. Coffee bars, restaurants, underground clubs and stores.. you might know everything in a month, but something somewhere... touches you.

I couldn't describe what it is.

Monday, 28 July 2008

The best part about this is that it works.

I can say whatever I want, and the millions who read will listen. There are no can-dos and can't-do's. Its simple and easy. Its exciting and exhilarating. It sets my mind free... from the prison of my body..

I like this feeling. Its warm and fuzzy, a little like the time I first rode my cycle without those extra wheels. It was the first time I didn't have to be afraid of falling or being laughed at, because no-one was going to be around.

And finally, you turn up.

Someone who will listen to me.

Its perfect right? Its like a connection between two people stuck in different parts of geography.A bond between two strangers... a conversation between nobodies.

Friday, 25 July 2008

Random things I've noticed in the past few days

- Revathi hasn't shown signs of coming online which means either she is busy or she is ill.

- The guy in the second window from bottom seems to have washed his vest and undies. I'm sure of it as they aren't hanging on his window.

- British newspapers are full of hogwash.

- Yorkie bars and Sweet chilli chips are all I need to survive in this country.I've eaten so much over the past week.Burp.

- Listening to KT Tunstall reduces Emotional 'fuckwittage' and boosts energy levels.

- That my sister sounds like my clone over the phone.

- Cat and Uthree haven't bothered to spend quality time mailing me and I'm making a mental note of it to blackmail later.

- That NK actually seems to like that painting.

- I've been messing up my sorry brain thinking about my apparently-not-so-bright looking future.

- That I love bugging Goel.Love.Love.Love.

- T looks so awfully tired everyday after labwork that I have to bite my teeth and keep all the bugging to do over weekends.Bah.

- That both T and I are going to live on Goel's Colgate toothpaste tube till September and continue to fight over it every morning.

Thursday, 24 July 2008

Birthday Woes

Today's the winner. It really was one of Those moments. Goel and I spent four and a half hours in the city trying to decide on a gift for T. Four. And. A. Half. Hours. It couldn't get worse than that. She doesn't read, so books were out of question. We weren't sure whether sizes would be right, so shoes and clothes were out, she had just bought herself a Dorothy Perkins bag so that was out as well. Finally, we were left with two options. Get something blindly, or head home.

Exhausted after an eternity of window shopping, we hurried here and there picking up a few last minute keep-asides like the cake and candles before heading home.Tired as hell. But that wasn't what fate had in store for us. Two people who had toiled hard for the perfect birthday and everything.

Five minutes before we surprised her, when Goel and I sat blowing balloons, it suddenly hit us.

They read 'Happy Retirement'.

Wednesday, 23 July 2008

Tamilzha.. Tamilzha? (P)unintended.

I think I understand why the world finds it so hard to like us poor Tamilians. I mean, seriously, it cannot get worse than it already is. Its bad enough a few sorry ones like me (by sorry here I mean belonging to the strata of Tamils who can barely manage to read and write the language even though we've studied it throughout school) still manage to pull through .For instance, I still don't know how you say 'ninety' or 'nine hundred' or 'nine thousand'. Worse, I go to Madras after ten months in the UK and figure that my blessed state has taken Tamil loyalism to a whole new level - even phone card instructions read in Tamil. Jesus. Trust me, even the woman who sold me the sim card took about half an hour to figure out what the hell the instructions read.

How Paavam.That's a problem in trying to get to understand Tamil culture.People don't realize that it isn't really that we wouldn't like to be friends with everyone and talk other languages (We are really a nice bunch, you know), its simply that we like what we've got and don't expect anything more. Really. Have you noticed that we show no signs of getting bored with ourselves.Look at us: when has Sun TV ever run out of old soap operas, or Kumutham stopped telling you who that actress slept with and this director married the third time? When has Sun music run out of callers asking for the repeat of the same hit song or Spencer Plaza showed signs of being empty? We even watch the same comedy scenes and know the dialogues of every sorry Tamil film we've watched in a lifetime. And that's just it, we don't miss anything.We don't get tired of our Idly and Sambhar diet, we don't get tired of the constant everyday bickering with autodrivers considering we are the only state that still does not follow a meter system, we still have open manholes all over the city, we still go religiously to Sathyam cinemas and whistle. And that's just it. Our lives are just about enough. There are no great Tamil dreams, we know our politicians are a bunch of boneheads who are both ugly and money-minded. We even know that people will still vote for them just because of the free rice and free television sets.

Sigh. I sit back and watch my friends bickering and boo-ing down Tamil mentality and blah-blahing about the state of affairs in the future if we do not make friends with our malloo and gulti neighbours. The thing people don't get is being Tamil has nothing to do with being friends with anyone. If you are in Tamilnadu, for instance, I don't think you can ever really be anything but a Tamil. You could be half-Irish,point five percent punjabi, three fourths a Zebra and still you get to only feel Tamil and nothing else. Pathetic and awesome at the same time, right? that is exactly how banal the average person's lifestyle is.

This time I went to Madras, for all the cribbing I've made my friends from Bangalore endure, I don't think I wanted to step out of home. It just felt good- That soddy life, the humdrum of Mount road, the evening traffic, the dirty streets, uninteresting Spencer Plaza, and the fragrance of fresh Bru early in the mornings. I don't really know which part of me I'd call 'Tamil', but I sure as hell know that part of me totally, totally is.

Tuesday, 22 July 2008





A picture
of T's
extremely
pretty
shoes.

Monday, 21 July 2008

The (in)convenience of having best friends who know you so well (that it gets painfully annoying at times):

Me : re...do you think..
Revathi (cuts me short): Yes, he loves you alot. I don't think that, I know that.

Me: You know what, I got drunk last night, I even had a few cigarettes. I've started smoking you know..
Revathi (Dead silence):
Me: ok, fine..I was kidding.
Revathi: Yeah, I knew that was coming next.

Me: Are you busy?
NK: I'll be back in a while ok..
Me: Fine..
NK: I know it isn't fine and you're mad at me now.

Me: You know,, I dunno how to describe it, I felt like.. so confused, I mean.. like I hate it and like it at the same time..you know..like sort of its nice but not so nice.. but in a nice way... you get it?
Uthree: Yeah, I know. I totally understand.

Taking a bow..

I couldn't think of anything to say about myself, really. I find just about anything and everything interesting, especially things I don't understand.

Guys, Math, the stock market, and the English weather.


oh,well.

Friday, 18 July 2008

A New beginning

I don't know why I had to start writing afresh. But I think, at 22, afresh means letting go something. It means stacking up uniforms, snapshots, school-ties, frames, sweetwrappers, letters and a whole load of what-its and what-nots into a big cardboard box, shoving them in the highest loft, then breaking the ladder so there's no way you can climb up and have all that again even if you wanted to.

This blog is about the moments that follow the cardboard box shoving.

It's about the things that were, things that will be... it is about new people, new places,new coffee joints, and a few old things I still have hidden in my closet.