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..