Random Ramblings

2011-07-17T20:34:00.003+05:30

Finally, I am done with the 30 Day Book Challenge, and not a moment too soon - because it was really turning out to be a challenge towards the end! For the simple reason that when I read a book, I don't over-analyse it - I simply enjoy it and let the words wash over me. So having to classify and categorise books for this tag was a strangely difficult experience.

However, it made me realise how incredibly lucky I am to have been part of a generation that still read decent stuff. This is not to generalise in any way, I do know a lot of children who read, but for the most part, this vampire-obsession really gets to me. I grew up on a diet of Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton and Agatha Christie (as did a lot of my other friends), most of today's children seem to grow up on a diet of violent Japanese cartoons and Edward Cullen. And it's not just choice in literature but the whole attitude to life that is different with children I see. When did the world change?

Sometimes I just feel incredibly OLD. I think time is passing us all by and every second is fleeting by, every second we grow closer to the end of our lives, that Big Bang in our own existence- except that we will not explode, but rather implode into ourselves, into the lives we have led.

And every minute that passes, I am reminded that there is such a lot to do - why, this is just the first month of the last year of university, and already I am swimming in lists of books to read, reference books to look up, essays to go through. And while my cat snoozes away peacefully with her head on my laptop keypad (making it difficult for me to type without moving her head a little, but I wouldn't do that, oh no, she's sleeping so peacefully), I find myself a little weary of life, of growing up and its various responsibilities. But then again, that is life in itself - it must be lived, lived well and lived responsibly (although I know lots of people who defy this convention).

And while a best friend worries about jumping off metaphorical cliffs and how, with the onset of age, we are becoming alarmingly unadventurous, and I tell her that life, now, is more about just being and living than anything else, I realise that somewhere, somehow, we have grown up and shed the adolescent angst, and are learning to deal with life itself as an adventure. No need to prove anything, no need to be 'cool', to 'fit in'. There is no need to jump off any cliff, we have already jumped off it. The question now is, do we go crashing down into the abyss, or do we learn to fly?

Day 30: My Favourite Book Of All Time

2011-07-13T18:45:00.001+05:30

Needless to say, this was the toughest part of the tag. Any bookworm would have trouble answering this, because for one thing, it's next to impossible to have just one favourite, and the second thing - what defines the "favourite book of all time"? Is it merely good writing? Is it its ability to stay fresh and appealing every time you come back to it? Is it good illustration? Or is it depth beyond the words, a heavier meaning that you need to analyse and realise the beauty of?

It was incredibly tough choosing Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through The Looking Glass, but in the end, it seems to match all of those conditions. And much more, besides.

I glossed over much-beloved books like Frankenstein, Love In The Time Of Cholera, The Irresistible Inheritance Of Wilberforce, and the more recent favourite The Buddha Of Suburbia.

I've read these books countless times, as a child when I read them merely as stories, as an English Literature student when I analysed them, and as an ordinary adult who enjoyed the beauty of the writing and the illustrations, and the hidden jokes and deeper meaning.

It will always be my "favourite book of all time".

Day 29: A Book Everyone Hated But I Liked

2011-07-10T19:35:00.001+05:30

We'd had this on the syllabus for the Victorian Literature course in PGI, and most of my classmates didn't read it, choosing to do Dickens' Bleak House instead, and the few that did read it, didn't like it. I didn't love this book but I liked it, and did think it was very intelligently written.

The Odd Women was striking among all the Victorian literature I've read, because it's one of the earliest books to discuss feminist ideals, and has very far-reaching thoughts on marriage and relationships. If you take into account the fact that it was written in 1893, it's amazing that a lot of what the book talks about is extremely relevant even today.

For those who can get through the rather slow pace and the typical Victorian style, this book is a good read.

Day 28: Favourite Title

2011-07-10T19:24:00.000+05:30

I had been strongly tempted to answer "Alexander McCall Smith" for this part of the tag, but The Soliloquist has beaten me to it.

While Smith does still remain a contender, I think the two most favourite (and intriguing) titles I have come across are from two extremely famous plays - Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee and A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams. When I'd heard of them, my curiosity was aroused and I just had to read them. In particular, the curiosity about Williams' play was piqued by the fact that I'd once read an Archie comic, in which Veronica Lodge said, "Why would anyone name a streetcar, that too 'Desire'?"

I'm very pleased that we're going to study them this semester - they're both brilliant plays and it's a rewarding experience to read them. :)

Day 27: The Most Surprising Plot Twist Or Ending

2011-07-08T21:07:00.000+05:30

Roald Dahl is the unsurpassed master of plot twists. If you've read stories like "Skin", "Lamb To The Slaughter", "The Way Up To Heaven", "Mrs. Bixby And The Colonel's Coat", or even the very common "The Umbrella Man", you know what I'm talking about. Of course, My Uncle Oswald is simply fabulous as well - coarse yet so humourous the vulgarity is forgivable! (Simply a must-read, this one.)

Most recently, I loved the plot twist in Jeffrey Archer's Only Time Will Tell.

I couldn't decide on a particular story or book to put in here, there are just so many contenders, thanks to Mr. Dahl! So sue me for cheating. :|

Day 26: A Book That Changed My Opinion About Something

2011-07-08T20:48:00.001+05:30

I've held off from this part of the tag for some days now (as you can well see) because for the longest time, I couldn't think of an answer. I have read some wonderful books, yes, but nothing that changed my opinion of anything as such. Some time back, it just struck me that a suitable answer for this would be Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita.

Before reading this, I was a little iffy about picking it up in the first place - the very idea of a grown man embarking on an affair with a young barely teenage girl repulsed me. I thought to myself that maybe I was better off not reading this - it was sure to be absolutely disgusting. However, a few years later, I did read it and I liked it - Nabokov's writing is very poetic and the book, although disturbing, is not icky in the sense that you expect a book concerning a paedophilic relationship to be. For all those who can stomach it, Lolita is a wonderful read - something that changed my opinion of it once I'd finished with the last page.

Day 25: A Character Who I Can Relate To The Most

2011-06-29T12:54:00.000+05:30

I haven't really identified with any character from the fictional world, but since I promised myself I wouldn't skip any part of this this tag, here goes: if I absolutely had to answer, it would be Darrell Rivers, from Enid Blyton's school series Malory Towers.

When I was growing up, I could draw quite a lot of parallels between Darrell's character and myself, especially the unpredictable, hot temper! I grew up with Darrell, and she got me through some pretty difficult times.

P.S.-Probably not a very convincing answer, but the only one I could give.

Day 24: A Book That I Wish More People Would’ve Read

2011-06-27T11:36:00.000+05:30

A lot of people have read this, I know (especially thanks to the Children's Literature course last semester), but for the large part, many people remain unaware of this little treasure of Sue Townsend's.

I first read this when I was about 13 years old, and since then, have returned to it many times, to find the humour just as fresh and intoxicating as it always was. This book has the right mix of hilarity, pathos, and drama, it's a gem that I recommend very highly - and it's the only book (apart from Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster) which can make me laugh out loud!

Day 23: A Book I Wanted To Read For A Long Time But Still Haven’t

2011-06-27T11:20:00.001+05:30

There are LOTS of books that I have wanted to read for a long time, but still haven't gotten around to. This is especially true for a person like me - who buys books obsessively without ever thinking when I shall find time to read them!

And while my shelves pile up with books that lie untouched for months on end (except for the occasional cleaning - I'm very particular that way!), I'm not sure why I choose this book over others (perhaps more-deserving candidates like Sophie's Choice, The Book Thief or even Point Counter Point.)

Maybe because I fell in love with Marquez's writing right afte Love In The Time Of Cholera and therefore felt the need to explore further, and maybe because this book's title is just so intriguing, making you want to delve deeper... I shall really have to get down to this one soon!

Day 22: Favourite Book I Own

2011-06-25T11:26:00.002+05:30

I have issues with this part of the tag - how can I have a favourite book I own? Shouldn't mostly ALL the books I own be favourites - simply because they all belong to me? And otherwise why would I have bought them in the first place?

But glossing over that, because I do have to fill in this part, I suppose my answer would be Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None. It was the first Christie I read, on my father's recommendation - I was about 12-13 years old at the time, and I still remember his words: "You're too young for Christie's other novels, but this one would be great to start you off."

And it genuinely scared me. Part-mystery, part-thriller, and part-horror (yes, almost!), I spent an uncomfortably sleepless night. Brilliantly written, keeps you on the edge, and the ending is a slap in the face for first-time readers.

Even now, when I read the book, I still get tingles down my spine, that's how good the book is!

P.S.- I'm not exactly sure why I would count this as the favourite book I own. Probably because after this, I went on to read many more Christie novels, yet I still count this as a favourite, and also probably because of the emotional connection to my father.

Day 21: Favourite Book From My Childhood

2011-06-25T11:11:00.001+05:30

The Sesame Street book Nobody Cares About Me just has to be the favourite book from my childhood. Yes, I loved Noddy and I loved Amelia Jane even more, but this, which was incidentally one of the earliest books I read, has a special place in my heart. In it, Big Bird, jealous of all the attention that Ernie gets after falling sick, pretends to be sick himself, only to actually fall very ill and realise it's not at all fun.

There's a moral in there, but forget that - I loved this book for its very vivid illustrations, its lovable characters, and Big Bird himself - who was just so darn cute!

Day 20: Favourite Romance Book

2011-06-16T12:17:00.000+05:30

Does Love In The Time Of Cholera count as a romance? It's certainly a love-story. The definition of a 'romance' is still a little dicey to me, especially after having studied Walter Scott's The Heart of Midlothian last semester, but it would be this work by Marquez. This is a book everyone should read - it's simple, sweet, bittersweet in parts, melancholic, poetic, almost magical in its appeal, and at the centre is a poignant love story that draws you in, not because it's just a love story, but because it's a very unconventional one that has the power to move you.

Day 19: Favourite Book Turned Into A Movie

2011-06-16T12:10:00.000+05:30

I'm generally not a big fan of movie adaptations of books, that being said - A Clockwork Orange would probably be my favourite book turned into a movie - because both book and movie have immensely strong points. However, I have already mentioned ACO for this tag, so I shall go with another answer - the Harry Potter series.

Personally, I like the books much more, and the first 4-5 movies, I thought, were absolutely disastrous. Actors who resembled their literary counterparts - check. Special effects - check. Wonderful sets - check. Acting - terrible! And that's why.

It's only the last book - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which seems to have been adapted well. I rather liked the Part I movie, which I saw last year, and am now waiting for Part II this summer. The HP7 movie seems to have what the preceding movies didn't - good acting and that certain touch of finesse.

Day 18: A Book That Disappointed Me

2011-06-14T21:19:00.000+05:30

Coming after Haroun and the Sea of Stories, I had high expectations from this one. Sadly, I was disappointed. Perhaps it would be unfair to compare it with its predecessor (which I count among my favourite books), but Luka was almost un-readable. Boring, monotonous and almost lethargic in pace- I was massively disappointed with Rushdie's latest offering.

Day 17: Favourite Quote From My Favourite Book

2011-06-14T21:13:00.002+05:30

Impossible, really, to choose a favourite book, but I suppose it would be Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. And this is my favourite quote from the book:

"In that direction," the Cat said, waving its right paw round, "lives a Hatter: and in that direction," waving the other paw, "lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad."

"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.

"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.

"You must be, said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."

Often-quoted, much-analysed, but probably the best dialogue in the whole book!

Day 16: Favourite Female Character

2011-06-09T10:50:00.001+05:30

At the risk of choosing a very predictable answer, my favourite female character would just have to be Alice, from Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Based on a real girl (Alice Pleasance Liddell), Alice is one of those unforgettable characters that one reads about as a child, but goes back to continuously, as an adult - simply because she's so wondrously layered. Her handling of situations, her child-like appeal, and her freshness all make her unique - she's one little girl I'd love to have met in real-life!

Day 15: Favourite Male Character

2011-06-09T10:38:00.000+05:30

I can always, always go back to Hercule Poirot - the funny little Belgian detective with an egg-shaped head, the man who feels that no crime is impossible to solve. Hercule Poirot's Christmas remains one of my best-loved books, and plus, how can an obsessive-compulsive man like him not be my favourite male character? *wink*

Day 14: Favourite Book Of My Favourite Writer

2011-06-09T10:29:00.000+05:30

Because it's impossible for me to choose one single favourite among Wodehouse's books, I'd say any Jeeves and Wooster book would fit the bill. As long as the book in question features the ever-bumbling and perpetually-confused Wooster and Jeeves (the valet who always saves the day), I'll count it as a favourite.

Day 13: My Favourite Writer

2011-06-09T10:23:00.000+05:30

There's nothing quite like a delicious P G Wodehouse book to curl up with on rainy afternoons, or when you're sad and need some cheering-up, or even in those so-so moods - because Wodehouse works his magic at all times, at all places. Quintessentially British humour, hilarious situations that make you actually laugh out loud, and endearing characters - what more does one need? I will always love this man for Jeeves and Wooster, and for Mr. Mulliner. Be it short stories or novels - Wodehouse's writing is truly one of a kind!

Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton would follow closely behind for this part of the tag.

Day 12: A Book I Used To Love But Don’t Anymore

2011-06-03T20:26:00.002+05:30

I think we've all been through the "Holden Caulfield" phase, that time when everything seems oh-so-pointless and everyone around seems out to make life miserable. There was a time when I used to love this book, when I identified with Holden and his problems, but now, when I read it, I am struck by how much things have changed - what seemed like cool adolescent angst then is pure whiny attitude now. The book's very well-written and Salinger has created a classic, no doubt. It's just that I don't love this book as much as I used to - maybe I have grown up, or maybe I just see life differently.

PS - My point of view here is going to clash drastically here with someone's - she almost worships this book, so if I have offended her sentiments, I beg forgiveness. :)

Day 11: A Book I Hated

2011-06-02T19:16:00.001+05:30

I don't know why I wasted my time on this book. It is by far the most awful piece of work I have ever read. It's so bad it makes you want to tear your hair out in large chunks. It's boring, it's insipid, and it's mind-numbingly shallow. Almost makes you want to go to your kitchen and throw away all the spices you just read about, just because they remind you of the chapters in Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's book.

Casting Aishwarya Rai in the movie adaptation didn't help any, as I was stuck with that mental image of Tilo. Blech.

Day 10: Favourite Classic Book

2011-06-02T18:51:00.001+05:30

I'm not sure how I would exactly define a 'classic', and if I go by the generally-accepted definitions, I'm ashamed to admit I haven't even read that many 'classic' books (yes, this after four years of being an English Literature student) - but 1984 would lead the list.

Thematically very deep, with brilliant writing - this is something everyone should read. 1984 is one of those few books which has the ability to send chills down my spine. In my opinion, it marks the point that all dystopian literature should aspire to.

Day 9: A Book I Thought I Wouldn’t Like But Ended Up Loving

2011-05-31T19:35:00.005+05:30

I'd watched the movie (which I loved) before reading the book. When I decided to give the book a try, I didn't like it much, I found it hard to get through the first few chapters because of the difficult language, and for the most part, Burgess' writing went right over my head. I remember actually thinking this was turning out to be one of those books that have better movie adaptations.

However, this is a book that needs a little patience and effort, and I am glad I stuck to it - because it does get better and once you follow the Nadsat, it's an overwhelmingly deep piece of literature that stays with you long after you've put the book back to the shelf. It plays with your head, it hits on the theme of freedom of choice and the subject matter is quite unpalatable! Started out not liking it, but today it remains one of my favourites.

Day 8: Most Overrated Book

2011-05-31T19:13:00.001+05:30

I had a strong urge to put Wuthering Heights on this part of the tag, but I think Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code wins hands-down. Good choice of source-material, decently drawn characters - but the writing is very very mediocre, and I always get the feeling he's pushing forward too many bunkum theories.

I never understood the fuss about this book - it works as a thriller, but that's about it. It's forgettable and certainly not deserving of so much publicity. Personally, I believe Dan Brown cashed in on subjects he knew would raise controversy, thus gaining the book attention which in turn increased sales. So if a book works better as a marketing strategy than as actual writing, that doesn't say much for the book in question.

Day 7: Most Underrated Book

2011-05-31T18:58:00.002+05:30

I just finished this book a month ago, and it has all the beauty and simplicity of McCall Smith's writing. He's better known for his 44 Scotland Street and The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency novels, which is why I was surprised to find this at the library, not having heard of it before.

I'm glad I read it, though - while it does have its shortcomings (rushing through certain points and lacking required depth in others) it makes for a very heart-warming read, for anyone who believes in the power of love and music.

Plus, the writing is lucid and typically McCall Smith-esque, but different from his other works in the sense that it's a lot more profound, and if you search for hidden meaning beneath the words, you'll find it in the guise of a simple love story that is made even sweeter with the presence of music.

Day 6: A Book That Makes Me Sad

2011-05-29T22:17:00.003+05:30

I realise this is a very unconventional choice, as this book is generally read on various levels - the issue of parenthood, the debate between artificial creation and natural creation - but Frankenstein makes me sad every time I read it. I can't help feeling a pang of sorrow for the monster, brought into the world by the means of science, shunned by all because of his ugliness, craving love and acceptance, and then finally embracing death because it seems a preferable alternative to his disastrous life.

It's a beautifully poignant book, one whose appeal is enhanced by its striking references to Milton's Paradise Lost, and like I said, probably not a very conventional choice, but the most appropriate one to me, nonetheless.

Day 5: A Book That Makes Me Happy

2011-05-25T11:44:00.003+05:30

I'm thinking that many would question my book choices for this tag as pretty childish so far, and might make me come off as a 12 year old, instead of a 22 year old English Literature student. But I can't help it, erudite and well-read be damned. Here goes one more - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is one of those magically happy-making books. I smile in glee when Charlie finds the Golden Ticket, I smile in smug satisfaction when the four naughty children get their just desserts, and there's a "Woop-de-doo!" for Charlie at the end of the book.
Dahl sure knew how to bring on the smiles. Years on, and it's still one of my best-loved. Plus, chocolate - need I say more? :)

Day 4: Favourite Book Of My Favourite Series

2011-05-24T11:55:00.001+05:30

Very hard to choose my favourite Asterix comic, but if I absolutely had to - it would be Asterix in Britain. Shameless stereotyping, blatant fun at the expense of 'Britishisms', not to forget an appearance by The Beatles!

Day 3: My Favourite Series

2011-05-24T10:55:00.003+05:30

I had a rather difficult time choosing for this one. I was torn between Enid Blyton's Malory Towers (a series that helped me deal with a lot of issues while growing up) and the Harry Potter books (impossible not to like them!).

But in the end, I think the Asterix series wins hands down. It is guaranteed to make me laugh- anytime, anywhere. And not just laugh in my head, laugh out loud. Yes, my Latin is weak, and the classical/popular references sometimes go right over my head, but come on - who doesn't love Asterix, Obelix, Getafix, Cacophonix, and the rest of the crazy Gauls? This is one of those rare series that has timeless charm, for the beautiful illustrations and the brilliant humour, and more so for the sheer feel-good factor.

P.S. - Calvin and Hobbes comes a close second for this part of the tag.

Day 2: A Book That I’ve Read More Than Three Times

2011-05-23T11:22:00.002+05:30

I first read this when I was about 12-13 years old, I didn't really appreciate its beauty then, because I couldn't understand the nuances of the text. Later on, when I gave a closer reading for my Post Colonial Literature course, I fell in love with it - not just for the threads of censorship and free speech Haroun deals with, but also because of the delightful word-plays and puns that Rushdie puts in. I've read the book four-five times, and will probably read it again in future - what's amazing is that it's one of those books that never loses its appeal. Simple and lucid, yet so layered. Enough said - khattam shud.

Day 1: The Best Book I Read Last Year.

2011-05-22T19:39:00.002+05:30

Definitely one of the best books I've ever read, not just last year. The book deals with the subject of alcoholism, the issue of addiction in general, and its effects not just on the addict in question but on his friends and family. It's written in such a beautiful, poignant way, it almost made me cry. A must-read, especially if you've ever dealt with a loved one's alcoholism up-close.

The 30 Day Book Challenge.

2011-05-22T19:35:00.025+05:30

So, inspired and tagged by Mandy and Sohini, I'm starting the 30 Day Book Challenge, a tag that sounds much more interesting to me than the 30 Day Song Challenge. (It also makes up for my otherwise boring, uneventful and empty blogspace!)

Here goes:

2011-05-19T23:10:00.001+05:30

Once these blasted exams get over, I'm going to wake myself up. I've been feeling a little lethargic lately, not physically but mentally - I'm slowing down, not doing the things I should be doing. Time-wasting can be nice sometimes, but right now- there is simply no time to waste and I need to wake up and get back on track. There's a lot that needs to be done, if I want to achieve even half my goals. I like being overworked, and most of the time, I welcome the stress - because it means that I'm making the time count.

In the meanwhile, a rainy day + a curled up furry cat + an evening out with close friends = much needed bliss. You guys know who you are. <3

2011-05-09T00:13:00.001+05:30

These days, I just do not feel like writing. Perhaps I used to be a lot more loquacious earlier, maybe, even uptil a few months back, I was bursting with the energy of words. Now, I just feel so mellow. A strange sense of peace has enveloped me. Sometimes, I feel so calm, like I'm standing still, living inside my own little bubble, watching the madness of the world outside. I watch the lives of most people with bemusement, sometimes with sympathy. Now - I just feel peace. I think I have finally become happy with myself. Contented with the person that I am. Whatever self-image problems I might have suffered with in the past, I don't have them now. Despite my private demons and my emotional turmoil, I like the person I've grown to become.

And even though there are exams to study for, the usual assignments and the myriad other things that keep me so occupied nowadays, there is pure bliss in the little things - like the black-and-white photograph of a tiny life, beautiful lines from a good book, endless glasses of Iced Tea, or even reconnecting with an old friend.

2011-04-21T22:29:00.002+05:30

Because sometimes, a childhood idol remains a childhood idol- the feelings of admiration never go away.

And even IPL controversies and hyped Twitter activities can't change that.

Photo editing courtesy: Shreya Sarkar

To Cut A Long Story Short.

2011-03-10T22:31:00.002+05:30

I seem to be on this path of reminiscence, lately. One of my most recent blogposts was about the Incidence perfume, which I related to my father's memory. And this blogpost is going to go much along the same tangent - not about perfume, but about a writer.

So, like the title of one of Jeffrey Archer's short story collections goes, to cut a long story short, I met and interviewed a world-famous author today. And if you haven't guessed it already, it was Archer himself, who was in the city (as part of a nationwide tour to release his new novel Only Time Will Tell).

He's rude and sarcastic, and even has that typical dry British humour, but he is amazing nonetheless, questionable personal life notwithstanding.

My father introduced me to Archer's writing when I was about 12 or 13. I even remember the particular story - it was One Man's Meat, the story with three different endings, from the collection Twelve Red Herrings. And while I have read a couple of his novels, I still prefer the short stories because of their masterpiece twists at the end.

It's an experience to come this close to a man whose writing I'd hugely admired. And I am kicking myself for being the world's biggest idiot - right when I was walking out of the auditorium, he was walking in with another man, there was no one else around and I should have asked him to take a picture with me! But I froze and gawked at him like a complete loser. He smiled at me and walked on. What an opportunity to miss. Still. Memories are very solid things and maybe someday I shall tell my children that I interviewed Lord Jeffrey Archer himself!

For the meantime, since my fondly-imagined children aren't in the picture yet, I shall content myself with thinking that my father would be so proud if he could see me now. He loved Archer's writing, and to think his daughter actually interviewed him today.

It would be his 52nd birthday tomorrow, and I think this actually makes a great present. Cheers to you, Height. Happy Birthday.

Bleurgh.

2011-02-23T22:46:00.001+05:30

Again it comes. Again.

The dissatisfaction and the dilemmas. The grappling with my sense of morality and justice.

I'm so sick and tired of what goes on around me. Sometimes I think we're doomed, we're ALL doomed, and that there's no point in any work, in any effort, in any social campaign. For the most part, I'm banging my head against a wall, screaming at people on the other side to listen.

People are so goddamn apathetic, so lazy and so bloody unprofessional. Social change is something that's optional, something that is expected to automatically come while they sit pretty, complaining about how this country is headed downhill, the ironic part being that they won't lift a finger to do anything.

Either that or they're pretentious, acting like they own the whole world and can therefore be flippant about other people's feelings.

Well, let me tell you people something. Everything you do comes back to you, so go ahead, put up Facebook notes and pat each other on the back for being able to read into something that wasn't meant for you in the first place. It'll all come back to bite you and then we'll see, yeah?

And feelings, feelings that I thought would never go away, but they have - and I'm not sure whether to feel happy or sad, or even disappointed.

The evenings are so nice and breezy, but somehow I never get to enjoy them. Life seems to have overpowered me with all its demands and responsibilities, and I have the vague feeling I'm not doing well enough, or going fast enough. I need a break, I need to STOP! for a while, just sit and catch my breath, but there isn't even time for that.

This Year's Book Fair Haul.

2011-02-06T20:21:00.001+05:30

More books to add to my collection! I always tell myself that there is nothing like going to Starmark / Oxford Bookstores and quietly browsing through books, selecting the ones that you will buy in a peaceful, calm atmosphere - but there is indeed something to be said for the hustle and bustle of the Book Fair, the dust and the grime, the thousands of book-lovers, and oh, for all the books just begging to be bought! *sigh*

Objects And Associations.

2011-02-03T21:24:00.002+05:30

It's strange how we have certain associations with certain objects. We can't resist that pull - of memory, of familiarity. That inexplicable need to hold on to a material thing because it reminds us of something, or someone.

I remember the first bottle of perfume I ever received. It was called "Incidence", and came in a pinkish, translucent triangular bottle. The smell was subtle, floral and oh-so-feminine. My father'd given it to me on my 15th birthday, he'd wrapped it carefully with a little note on top of the package, that said, "Happy Birthday, for my girl- who's fast becoming a woman."

I didn't keep the wrapping paper. And somehow, regrettably, I misplaced the note. But the bottle I kept for a very long time, even after the perfume had run out. Because that was the last present my father gave me- he died two months later, leaving me with an irreparable sense of loss and among other things, a bottle of perfume that I used very sparingly, almost as if to hold on to a part of him.

And so, I kept it. That empty bottle. Sometimes, when the pain of his absence was sharper than usual, I used to just smell the nozzle of the spray - the fragrance gave me comfort. And it took me almost a couple of years to find the strength and the will to dispose of the bottle. Today, even after the different perfumes I've used - Nina Ricci, Yardley, Escada, Elizabeth Arden, Poison, and Burberry's, that one bottle of Incidence still remains my most special.

I'd thought that perfume wasn't available anymore. Today, I found it, at a store near Lake Market. Needless to say, I bought it. I've just sprayed it once, on my wrist. And every now and then, I'm sniffing my hand. It's a sense of delight I can't explain.

The New Year's started on a good note, I think I'll have a good 2011, but this little object, this seemingly unimportant bottle of perfume - it's given me enough happiness to make me smile for the next few months. Letting go is a part of life, but so is holding on. It's what makes us human.

Blogging, And My Lack Of It.

2011-01-17T23:46:00.001+05:30

Very recently, a friend asked me why I don't blog as often as I used to. I told her that lately, I've been turning out such inexcusable tripe while writing that it's simply embarrassing to post it online. She pooh-poohed the idea and ordered me to blog more.

Later on, I got to thinking why I've become so irregular with my blogging. Maybe it's just that I don't have things to write - not things that I'd care to share on a public forum, anyway. True, my blog is much less public now after I've made it invitation-only, to keep it away from certain people's prying eyes. But somehow I feel like my blogging isn't worth a second look - I don't have Shreya's gift of comparing life to her beautiful photographs, I don't have Mandy's talent for putting into a few words entire feelings or incidents, and I don't have Reeti's quality of writing simple but sweet updates. These are blogs I could read again and again - but mine? Mine (although it has its moments) is simply a sorry excuse for a blog address.

I think my talent for words, for stringing together sentences and drawing pictures with them, shines through only in my work. I love each feature article that I write, I treasure each paragraph, each quote, and each interview - because it's a part of me and no one can take it away. Work may be my defence mechanism for quite a lot of things, but it's the only thing that keeps me sane - and life, although hectic and fast-paced and busy, is simply amazing. I wouldn't want things any other way.

And Another Year Approaches.

2010-12-31T22:46:00.001+05:30

All the customary self-analysis, all the introspection, and all the 2010-stock-taking is going to remain private, this year. No tag on Facebook, no blogpost detailing what I achieved, what I didn't, what one thing would have made my year immeasurably more satisfying, et al. It's been a tumultous year, a year of ups and downs, and, if anything, it's been a year that's taught me that maintaining privacy is absolutely necessary, so that's all I shall say. In my own mind, I've thought it all out, I know which people counted, which didn't, who made a difference, and I know the high-points and low-points of this past year, and I think that is good enough.

Wish you a wonderful 2011, cheers to the coming year, let's make it count. I know I shall.

Being Responsible And Level-Headed Is Such A Pain...

2010-12-06T13:25:00.002+05:30

...Because sometimes you just don't get to do the things you really want to do. You don't get to let your hair down, and have some totally spontaneous, free-spirited fun, not worrying about the consequences. Because that is what I do, I worry about the consequences of my actions, and what will happen later, and so I inevitably pass up tempting times when I could possibly have been crazily irresponsible with a devil-may-care attitude. I could make a career out of sticking to my deadlines, of following the rules and sticking to the straight and narrow.

My best friend keeps asking me why and how I am so 'together' - I don't know why I am, really. Maybe it's a defence mechanism, maybe I just don't want to lose control, maybe I am scared of what will happen if I do. I have made it a habit to be balanced, to be mature and responsible, and to stick by my values, but sometimes, honestly - I wonder what would happen if I just got rid of all those notions, even if temporarily.

And now, when I have fever and am feeling unwell, I can't even curl up under my quilt and shut out the world, I have to make myself hot cups of tea to ease my sore throat, keep track of my temperature, and then go pick up Ma from the airport. Because there are chores to be done, articles to be written, and work to be done, and of course - being an adult is so much fun, with all its responsibility and requirements of keeping a straight head on your shoulders.

This post makes no sense, probably - but I have fever and I think allowances may be made for that. Blah to you.

The Days...

2010-11-01T18:53:00.002+05:30

...Are blending into one another so fast, so abruptly, that it's hard to breathe, difficult to catch on to anything, and almost impossible to keep track of what's happening. But there is joy in the little moments - there is a strange happiness in feeding a stray kitten part of my chicken sandwich, there is a wonderful comfort in sipping hot lemon tea in this weather, and there is bliss in knowing that I have the strength to move forward, come what may.

After A Long, Long Time...

2010-10-09T11:49:00.002+05:30

...I'm back. Back again to blogosphere, back to this sometimes-familiar, sometimes-neglected blog of mine. So much has been happening over the past few weeks that it's difficult to write about it all. I've been through a messy incident, I've cried over the trauma and the embarrassment - but I've also decided to do something about it. I've never been one to take anything lying down, and I'm not about to start now.

I live my life by a simple diktat - "Stand up for what's right. Make a difference." And it's this simple rule which has been giving me strength over this time. You can read all about the Safe City campaign online - check The Telegraph or the Facebook group.

And then, there are people. So many different types of people. Hypocritical people - the armchair philosophers who spout poetically-constructed sentences on why change is impossible, and the people who promise to be there, but don't. Corrupt people - people so embedded in their own greed and own agendas that anything else around them seems unimportant and trivial. Clingy people - people who don't take no for an answer, who refuse to believe that some things are just not possible, and that walking away is the best option.

And then there are the people who do stand by you, who comfort you with words or hugs , gestures or inappropriate jokes. People who run with you from pillar to post to make sure your protest goes somewhere. People who book you expensive plane tickets at a few days' notice to help you get a change of scene, to make sure you don't lose your sanity.

Sometimes, dignity, happiness and life are so fragile. All it takes for your dignity to be threatened is being grabbed by an unknown man. All it takes for your happiness to show cracks in its surface is the indifference of people you regarded as close. And all it takes for life to start crumbling is the constant onset of unwanted things - a hard disk crash, an eye infection, a series of bad assessments.

But the beauty of dignity is that no one can take it from you, if you don't let them. The beauty of happiness is that it's a state of mind - it's within your control. And the beauty of life is that when it comes crumbling down, you have the strength to build it up again.

Happy Birthday!

2010-08-17T18:57:00.002+05:30

To you.

You, whom I met on the day of admissions, and was the first classmate I talked to.

You, whom I spent countless hours with at Moni-da's Canteen, downing plates of questionable Thai Chowmein.

You, who has been my one constant friend through the four years I've been at JUDE.

You, whom I whine and wail to, gossip to, and make the victim of my terrible jokes.

You, whom I go shopping with, bunk classes with, and brave the KMR with.
You, who takes the best pictures of me.
You, whom I text in class even if we're sitting right next to each other.

You, fellow-Cheesecake-lover, who has always stood by me, no matter what.

Here's to you, bringing in your 22nd year.

A very very Happy Birthday!

May life's troubles never wipe away your smile, because it is in the midst of troubles that you discover your strongest self.

Wish you a wonderful year ahead!

Lots of love.<3

Angst. And Some Mild Rage.

2010-07-29T20:43:00.001+05:30

I'm sick and tired of all this. I don't know how exactly to explain it, and I'm not even sure that I want to - I've always been a fiercely private person, never wearing my heart on my sleeve. And perhaps that's the problem. That my emotions are private. Certain people sometimes think I'm too private, that it's not normal to be so. And then, invariably, they automatically perceive me as indifferent or heartless, when all I'm really trying to do is keep my emotions to myself and just carry on with life.

Which is better? Is it better to parade your happiness, your sadness, your ecstasy, and your heartbreak out there, for the world to see, laugh at, and talk about? Or is it more sensible to be the oyster-like person that I am, coming out only if necessary and to select people, and therefore berated for supposedly being socially dysfunctional?

Sometimes, I couldn't care less. When something's not meant to work, it isn't meant to work - and that's really all there is to it. All the meaningful discussions and promises-to-do-better couldn't make a difference. And certain people should really learn to move on. I'm not saying it's easy for everyone, but we all go through our share of trauma and unhappiness - God knows I've been through my share, so do you blame me for using an unemotional front as a defence mechanism?

Maybe.

2010-06-28T22:36:00.003+05:30

Maybe I need a new way of thinking,

Maybe I need a brand new start.

Maybe I need to stop myself from sinking,

And maybe I need to just fall apart.

So...

2010-06-20T23:07:00.002+05:30

...Seriously, how do you like the new blog look?

To You.

2010-05-30T20:23:00.006+05:30

You came into my life unexpectedly, like a firefly that suddenly flits into the darkness of the night and brightens it up.
And somewhere along the line, somewhere among the walks and the drives, the talks and the texts - you have become a part of me.

Happiness.

2010-05-09T18:16:00.008+05:30

Happiness is curling up in bed while a thunderstorm rages outside. Digging into a plateful of steaming hot Pasta, with Pickles at my feet, and dancing in the rain afterwards. Then breathing in the heady smell of the earth - that delightful snorgasbord of rain, grass and air - that combines to make you feel both cool and warm at the same time.
Happiness is completing three undergraduate years at JUDE, looking back on the numerous cups of Iced Tea, the good and the bad classes, the picnics and the photographs, the retardness, and the friends.
Happiness is a long drive along the streets of Calcutta, followed by a stroll along Prinsep Ghat, rounded off with spicy Momos. Happiness is the feel of your hand, the sound of your voice, and the beep of my phone whenever it's a text message from you.
Happiness is making it through certain stressful-painful days in one piece, going to sleep at night knowing something's been accomplished, knowing I've made a difference. Because all the sharp words, all the criticism, and all the sarcasm - it's all temporary. I know what I'm worth, what I'm capable of - and as long as the people who matter know, that's all I need.

The Last Week...

2010-04-26T00:15:00.003+05:30

Sometimes, the best things in life are unexpected, and throw your life off balance.
Sometimes, the best feeling is a quiet and comfortable peace, instead of the wild-overjoyed-highly saturated-happiness.
It's been overwhelming, and slightly difficult to get used to. But I think I shall manage well.
And hopefully it'll all work out right.
*keeps fingers crossed*

Aargh!

2010-04-11T22:34:00.005+05:30

Right now, my backlog consists of:

Four tests before the end of the semester - two for Criticism, one for The Tempest and its Aftermath, and another one for Indian Writing in English.
Two term-papers to submit, one for Literature and Censorship, and another one for The Tempest and its Aftermath.
One upcoming Bengal Chamber event on "Tagore and the Bengal Renaissance".
The usual work - a couple of interviews, articles, plus pending content writing work.
Books - Media and Violence; Sex, Literature and Censorship; Roald Dahl's Switch Bitch.

Gah. Too much work. I need 72 hours in a day. I'm feeling ill at the thoughts of those tests and term-papers. Plus exams next month. On top of all this, the heat isn't helping. I'm surviving on Iced Tea, Tang, tok dal, and shukto. Bye-bye, chicken and mutton - I really like you, but you're just not eatable in this weather.
But gah once again. Gah. I want to start swimming again. But where's the time?
Aargh, like the subject of this blogpost!

Darkness. And Blankness.

2010-04-09T18:13:00.003+05:30

My body clock has gone for a toss. Nowadays, I can't get to sleep before 2 a.m., at least. It's frustrating. After University, possible assignments, work, and other random stressful things, I'm tired - but I can't sleep. Sleep evades me, I lie in bed, staring into the darkness, thinking of has-beens and what-ifs.
Every once in a while, I reach out my hand to touch Pickles, who unlike me, can sleep anytime, anywhere. I stroke her, and take comfort from her furry, sleeping form.
But till 2 a.m. (or 2.30, some nights!), I stay awake, tossing and turning, worrying about work, thinking about studies, going over interesting books I've read, and sometimes I think about people - people who've made a difference in my life, people I'm learning to do without, people I've mentally and emotionally disassociated myself with, and people I couldn't live without.
And sometimes I watch a movie to pass the time. Last week, on different nights, I watched Mystic River and Mean Girls late into the night.
I wish I could get back my normal sleeping pattern. While on the one hand it's nice being awake till 2.30 a.m., I think every once in a while, I would like to fall asleep by 12.30, and be able to get up, well-rested, by 7.30 a.m., and spend some quality time with the morning newspapers.

Post-Delhi Post. (Yes, It's A PJ!)

2010-04-03T13:09:00.010+05:30

I didn't take too many pictures in Delhi-Gurgaon this time around, because (and here comes the bored, been there-done that expression) it was my seventh time there, and well, once you're more or less familiar with the city, you just don't take that many pictures. (Add to that the fact that I'm a lousy photographer in any case.)
Anyway, we didn't go out too much, it was mainly all relaxation and spending time in each others' company. But here are a handful of pictures I did take. (On my new Canon PowerShot A495, no less!)

Lady Puchuguni inside one of our bags. She's an adorable little animal. She even 'fetches', like a dog!

Us, in Guppy's car. On the way to Galleria, to do some shopping.

Right before dropping Ma to the airport. Guppy being goofy as usual.

Ma, with her two daughters. :)

Sometimes words are just hopelessly insufficient.

But Pasta makes up for it all. This is what I cooked for Guppy, Divya, and their friends on my last night in Gurgaon.

I wish Guppy weren't so far away. I wish I could see them more often, I wish Ma didn't have to get a lump in her throat every time we talk to them on Skype. But maybe this is better - maybe the magic stays, this way - because absence makes the heart grow fonder.

A Few Words From Gurgaon.

2010-03-30T14:53:00.005+05:30

It's strange seeing my brother married. Having a full-fledged shongshar with a wife, a cat, and even a stacked fridge. Somewhere, somehow - Guppy grew up on me.
I am visiting him and Divya, am in Gurgaon at the moment. As I write, they're in office, and I'm alone in their apartment. Tomorrow I leave. (Ma had come too, but she left on Sunday.)
It's been an amazing trip so far. Eating out, a fair bit of shopping, playing with Lady Puchuguni (their cat), and of course - the new camera that my brother has gifted me. *grin*
Tonight, I'm making dinner for my Dada and Boudi, and a few of their friends.
And tomorrow, I fly on my own for the very first time.

Birthday Blues.

2010-03-11T20:07:00.007+05:30

Birthday celebrations. With "What if..." thoughts and jasmine garlands. With incense sticks and wishes to a framed photograph. The irony of it all.

Happy 51st birthday. I miss you more than you'd imagine.

A Life Without Stress Is An Empty Life.

2010-03-06T23:20:00.004+05:30

I was thinking today, that I like being stressed. I like having lots of things to do, lots of assignments to complete, lots of articles to write... Well, you get the picture.
For me, sitting around is not an option. Most of my friends think I'm a little nutty because I don't indulge in endless hours of lyadh (something unique to my University), but the truth is - I feel empty if I don't have a lot of things to do. Time is precious, and I like being productive.
Right now, this is what's on my plate.

An article on Art and Serigraphy.
An article on social, environmental and political awareness of the youth.
A conference regarding the capabilities of the visually handicapped.
Organising Press for the upcoming Theatre festival at ICCR.
Finish reading William Dalrymple's The Age of Kali.
Write and upload the Wikipedia article on John Gay's Polly for Literature & Censorship class.
Hopefully get around to reading the two academic books on Shakespeare I have issued from BCL. (Hah!)

Yes. I am a workaholic. And I love it!
Once, I'd felt a little more stressed than usual, and had told my boss, "Can't take on any more work, I have way too much on my plate right now!"
You know what he'd said?
"Get a bigger plate."
Profound, and oddly touching. I've never forgotten those words , and I go by that philosophy even now.

Because I Like Bullet Points.

2010-03-02T11:14:00.003+05:30

I watched Julie & Julia last night. The movie reminded me just how much I like cooking, how food makes everything worth the while. And now I want to live in France for at least a couple of years.
Am reading Mulk Raj Anand's Coolie. It's a good book, well-written, but somehow I'm having trouble sticking to it for long periods at a time. However, I have resolved to finish it - I leave too many books unfinished nowadays. No more of that.
I have so many movies to watch, and so many books to read. Everything is piling up. Soon I'll be like Jim Carey in Bruce Almighty, who was nearly drowned in Post-It prayers, except I'll be surrounded by mountains of DVDs and books.
Delhi-bound on the 25th of March, with Ma! I can't wait to see my brother and my sister-in-law, and their cat. I'm counting down the days till I get on that plane, and fly off to my brother.
Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland is coming to theatres soon. I am excited, can't wait to watch it!

The Sign.

2010-02-25T21:44:00.004+05:30

I'm thinking of getting a sign for myself.
One that says, "Danger! Wearer is hazardous to human beings."
Sometimes, I think I should be even more of a recluse than I already am, and not interact with people at all. Saves unnecessary and unwanted trouble. Unrealistic wish, I know. But might prove beneficial in the long run. It's a point to consider.

When I Feel Worthless.

2010-02-22T00:12:00.006+05:30

Some days, I get sudden bursts of wake-up calls, if you will- when the panic button inside me seems to go on overdrive, and I think, "Life is passing me by, and I've done nothing at all!" Such moments make me feel worthless and useless - and I feel like there's been no real point to my life so far, that I've achieved nothing, that my life is going nowhere. It's not really self-pity (I hardly ever indulge in that), it's more a vague sense of unease that time is ticking by, and I'm not making the most of it.
Today, I've had one such 'epiphany'. In light of that, I have decided to study harder, work more, read better, and basically be a better person. (I need to make the most of every opportunity! Life is calling, where am I?)
Yes, you can laugh now. I'm laughing myself, as a matter of fact.

Rant.

2010-02-13T23:22:00.006+05:30

I've always promised myself that I would never turn this blog into a rant-space, that I would never make public my deepest feelings and acknowledge the pain and turmoil within me. But this is one of those times, when I just need to get it all out, when I need a catharsis of sorts. Sometimes, a rant is needed, to clear the head, to get my feelings in order. So here goes the public, probably even undignified display of emotion.

You. I hate you, and despise you from my very core. I'm sorry I ever got to know you. You're the biggest piece of scum I've ever interacted with, I'm past the point of even feeling sorry for you. Fuck you, seriously.
You. You two-faced little thing. You look so harmless, but now I know better. What are you getting out of this? And why are you playing the double agent? I know what you're after - don't you realise it's never going to happen? You're deluding yourself if you think it's possible - grow up, wake up and smell the coffee.
You. I don't know what to do with you, really. I don't know how to handle myself, I don't know whether things are going right or whether things have always been wrong, from the very beginning. This isn't good for me, and I need to get out. But why is that so horribly hard for me to do?
You. I feel like you are the one true constant in my life, you're the one person I can be myself around - myself with all my quirks, randomness, whiny-ness, and bitchiness. What we've shared together - do most people get that? People change, therefore - relationships, too, must change. With us, I just don't know anymore. And the strange thing is, something tells me you feel the same way as I do.
You. You're the best friend I could ask for. You listen to all my complaints, put up with all my moods, and bear with me patiently through all my confusion. I love you, sometimes I don't know what I would do without you. Thank you for always being there.

Edward Munch's painting is so, so appropriate right now. I need to scream and scream, yell till my mouth is sore, shout till my lungs are tired, I want to wail at what's going wrong. But I know that's not possible, so I shall settle for being brave, and putting up a mature, unemotional, and unaffected front. For isn't that what I always do?

Bleh.

2010-02-07T12:23:00.009+05:30

I'm tired of this. I don't know how to deal with it. I'm confused, I'm conflicted, and it all seems a little hopeless right now.
Every once in a while, comes a time in one's life when taking charge and getting back on track is necessary. That time has come, for me. It'll be difficult, but I just need to stick to my decision, come what may. I can't afford to have a relapse again.
Enough is enough.

Bittersweetness.

2010-01-27T21:36:00.012+05:30

I was sorting through old letters and cards the other day, and I came across this one birthday card Ma had given my father, many years back.
She'd written, "You are getting old, soon you shall have to wear your trousers rolled. Maybe there is even a bald spot in the middle of your hair. But my hair is greying, too. I shall be there with you, together we shall eat peaches, and walk upon the beach. You are my best love. Happy Birthday."
(Anyone who's read Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock will understand the allusions here.)
It's funny how life can be so bittersweet sometimes. *sigh*

:)

2010-01-23T23:19:00.004+05:30

It's nice when something you've hoped for and wanted for a long, long time finally materialises. Even if it's not on those exact terms that you wanted it on, it's still a matter of joy. Because along the way, you learn to compromise and adapt - and of course, exploring such uncharted territory is fun!
Here's to the steps ahead.
Yes, I'm rather happy about the way it's finally worked out. *looks gleeful*

I've Learnt...

2010-01-17T20:19:00.004+05:30

...That sometimes it's just fun to let go, let my hair down, and live in the moment without worrying about tomorrow.
...That the streets of Calcutta look beautiful at 3 am. Picturesque. Almost romantic.
...That sometimes, it's possible to have fun with people I've met just minutes earlier.
...That temptation is hard to resist. Yes, really hard.

It's been a brilliantly amazing night. For more reasons than I would wish to mention.

Silence! The OCD Queen Speaks.

2010-01-16T12:00:00.007+05:30

I am the laughing-stock in my circle of friends for being the girl who obsesses about every little thing under the sun, the girl who shudders at dust and inches away from dirt. I need order and method in my life, like a certain Hercule Poirot. Disorderliness gets to me. I have been called everything from 'compulsive to 'weird' and 'manic'.
How am I obsessive and compulsive? Ways, let me count thee.

I don't doodle on my notebooks. Ever. My friends get scratched and screeched at if they make marks on my stationery. Even a little dot upsets me.
When I'm walking, I like sticking to the square tiles, or the round patterns - of the floor. Keeping my feet inside the design of the floor gives me a strange kick.
I like making lists. Enough said.
I am a stickler for cleanliness. Scruffiness and untidiness upsets me. That would explain my spotless room.
This is a follow-up on the previous point. I love cleaning. I think it's therapeutic. When I'm tired, or cranky, or even feeling out of sorts, all I need is to sit down and clean/dust my books, or CDs. Or even polish silver cutlery. It's an instant pick-me-up.
I need proper punctuation. And proper grammar. This not only backs up my obsessive-compulsive point, it makes me a Grammar Nazi (as someone put it so well.) I expect I shall soon be ostracised from Facebook for correcting people's grammar and spelling.
I like stacking things in rows or piles. The other day, at the canteen, I was stacking the tea-cups in even piles, till my friends jumbled them up. The world, I tell you, is a mean, mean place.
If I'm reading, and I want to take a break, I need to reach the end of the chapter for me to put the book down. I simply cannot stop in the middle, no matter if the chapter-end is 20 pages away - I'll still read on, then stop.
All the pens in my pen-stands are arranged nib-downwards. This is done so that the ink flows easily.
I need all the folders in my laptop arranged in a certain way. Folder, sub-folder, then folder inside that, and so on.
If one of the incense sticks I've lit during my morning puja happens to go out without burning all the way to the end, it spoils the rest of my day.
When I'm cooking, I need the ingredients cut perfectly. No lopsidedly-sliced peppers, please. Or untidily chopped mushrooms.
I think the Colin spray is one of mankind's greatest inventions.
I get very depressed if I lose something, be it a lip balm, or be it a pen. The world almost ceases to turn until I find it again. Really.
Do you notice that there are 15 points? I could have stopped it at 12, or 13. But it has to be rounded off!

In fact, the very fact that I'm even writing this post should be ample proof.
I imagine I would be a very difficult person to live with. Woe to the man who will eventually end up with me, if at all that ever happens. *sigh*

Some Thoughts.

2010-01-12T22:24:00.010+05:30

After many, many months of continuous work, I finally have some free time to myself. I have quit my boring, thankless content writing job, with the intention of concentrating on this last semester's academics (or so Ma thinks) and catching up generally, on all the books and movies I have been putting off. While I still have other work to keep me busy, the absence of the regular job leaves me relieved, yet still empty. It's strange not feeling stressed. I'd forgotten what having free time feels like.
This semester is turning out to be rather screwy. Just a week into it, and I'm already gnashing my teeth at the Criticism classes, and the less said about Indian Writing In English, the better. The Tempest And Its Aftermath and Literature And Censorship, on the other hand, are shaping out to be very interesting, enjoyable courses.
I am now addicted to Porcupine Tree. And Foo Fighters, to some extent. Plus a whole lot of random music which I won't go into.
A friend of mine asked me the other day why I like working - whether it makes me happy or whether it prevents me from being sad. He said there was a difference, and yes, I do see that there is one. I had told him it makes me happy. Now, with no immediate work to do, I can't help wonder about what he said, and what my answer would be, in the current situation...

Messed Up.

2010-01-09T21:03:00.004+05:30

I shall not succumb to temptation.
I shall not. Shall not.
Also, I shall not fall. It makes things way too complicated. And that's the last thing I need right now.
On quite a different note, I've found the Nivea strawberry lip balm I misplaced last week. Yaay!
The world may be messed up, but it's rather nice nonetheless. :-)

Just Because.

2010-01-05T22:27:00.003+05:30

2010's started on a decent note.
But just five days into the New Year, comes my first mood swing. I hate this. This manic-depression. It comes without warning, and makes me want to sink right into a dark place, where nothing and no one can touch me.
Also, I find myself missing you, of all people. Nothing makes sense anymore. Seriously.

2010.

2009-12-31T15:34:00.005+05:30

The year is finally over. In many ways, it hasn't been quite the best. Work-wise, it's been reasonably decent, but then I think I could have done lots more. Study-wise, the less said the better. Emotion-wise, very topsy-turvy, though I think the last few months have made me stronger and more tough.
But leaving all that aside, 2010 saw my brother getting married, Ma doing really well business-wise, and me making a lot of decisions that I plan to stick to.
Just a few hours to go for it to be officially the New Year, and while I'm not big on resolutions, I plan to make this year count. 2009 has drifted by rather vaguely, I don't have much to show for it (not as much as I'd like to, anyway) - and all that is going to change come 2010.
But let's ALL make 2010 count.
Let's save the environment. Avoid plastic like the plague. Don't litter, don't waste water or electricity. Try to go vegetarian at least 2-3 days out of the week.
Read. Books, magazines, blogs - whatever. One drop of ink can make a million think. There's nothing quite like the written word to open up your eyes.
Bring about change. If you see an animal or a child (or anyone, for that matter) being mistreated, stand up for it/him/her. Try to feed the animals in your locality, and sterilise them if possible. If you have clothes/stationery you don't need, give it away - to orphanages, to the children of your domestic help. Visit old age homes, spend some time with the past generation who have nothing to look forward to - brighten up their day. Aim to make this a better world.
It's easy to be a cynic, or an armchair revolutionary, or to be dismissive and say, "Nothing to be done!" It's more difficult to actually go out there and make a difference - and that's what 2010 should be about. Making a difference.
Here's to a happy, healthy, prosperous and productive 2010. Happy New Year to all of you.
Cheers!

Park Street - A Walk Down Memory Lane.

2009-12-23T21:41:00.007+05:30

I spent some time in Park Street today, after ages, and I was surprised by how many memories came flooding back. Each flashback more powerful than the last.
People associate Park Street with the tempting restaurants, the party mood, and of course - the cheap alcohol served at OlyPub, but somehow - Park Street to me has always held a different meaning. I always associate it with my father, and the times I spent with him.

I remember you walking me into Paragon, that games-shop near St. Xaviers, and buying me toys. I remember you taking me to Hobby Centre for icecream. I remember the numerous lunches at Bar-B-Q, and I felt you there with me today when I went with Ma for lunch, after 10-odd years or so. I remember you buying me "Amelia Jane" books from Oxford Bookstore. And I remember you and I walking down Park Street- silent, just enjoying each other's company, after we'd watched "The Lord Of The Rings".
I miss you. But I'm glad I have the memories to hold on to.

What Should I Say...

2009-12-21T10:46:00.004+05:30

...To someone who can stoop so low? To someone whom I thought was mature? You proved me wrong by falling to such a ridiculous level.

I know we've had our problems, I know we didn't part on good terms - but come on, really, this? Are we 4 year old kids now?

You and I messed up things pretty badly, and maybe people think I was the one to blame, that it was all my fault. The truth is, very few actually ask for my side of the story, no one really knows what I went through, with you. And I like it that way, I'm not a particularly open person so I prefer being the oyster that no one can open. If people think I'm the heartless bitch that screwed you up, fine - I'm not going to go around bleating our troubles to change their opinions. But you made things incredibly hard for me, made things more complicated than they already were.

We had our problems, yes, and things didn't end well. But I thought even you were beyond this level.

But you know what? You have just proved yourself a rather disgusting person, by doing this. And my side of the story can die with me, for all I care. You're not even worth this blogpost, you juvenile piece of dirt, but I'm writing it anyway, just to get it out of my system.

I'm cutting you out of me - absolutely and totally. Have a nice life.

Winter Is Here.

2009-12-07T11:13:00.004+05:30

Winter is here.
It's time for steaming bowls of soup, and the occasional plate of Momos. Time for shawls and sweaters, quilts and quiet evening walks in chilly air.
Time for badminton games, extra moisturiser and Christmas movie reruns on TV.
There is something comfortable and peaceful about winter. It has none of the harshness of summer, and none of the unpredictability of monsoon. It's all about enjoying an hours' extra sleep, wandering the by-lanes of New Market and picking up winter-wear, and snuggling up with a cuddly cat.

Ma and I, last year, post-Christmas celebrations. 'Tis the season to be jolly, indeed.

Wedding Wows!

2009-12-06T17:42:00.011+05:30

Well, it's finally over. The Dasgupta-Nair wedding.

After one week of whirlwind activities in Noida, Gurgaon, and Calcutta, after almost-sleepless nights, frantic tatya-packing, and usual marriage chaos, my brother has finally tied the knot. Who would have thought he'd settle down so soon? Well, settle down he has, with a very lovely girl called Divya who's been close to us for about 2 years now, and everything went off fabulously well - right from Divya's family and friends taking such good care of us up North, to our Bou-Bhaat and Reception here in the city.

The less said about my exams colliding with the marriage, the better.

Here's wishing the married couple a long and happy life together. And here are 5 of my favourite pictures from the wedding.

At the engagement, Army Club, 27th November 2009.

The newly-weds, right after the Bengali rituals, at the Guruvara Temple, Noida, 29th November 2009.

Mr. and Mrs. Dasgupta, at the Bou-Bhaat, our place, 1st December 2009.

All smiles at our terrace party, 1st December 2009.

And finally, the grand reception at Tollygunge Club, 3rd December 2009.

I Will Survive - From The Scribbles Of A Workaholic.

2009-11-18T23:57:00.006+05:30

I shall be in Delhi from the 26th to the 30th of November, for Guppy's wedding - and I have a Macbeth exam on 1st December. But I will survive.
I shall miss the Bou-boron and Bou-bhaat because the Macbeth exam is right at that very time. But I will survive.
After our reception party on the 3rd of December, I have a Modernism exam the very next day. But I will survive.
Come on, I've managed much worse than this.
I can get through all of it - studies, work (and there's a lot of it, make no mistake!), and wedding planning, not to forget leisure time.
All I need to do is slog my behind off these next few days, so that I don't sink during the exams. It's going to be tough, but hopefully with less time-wasting and better time-management, I shall get through.
Like I said, I will survive.
It's such lovely weather. Ideal for a steaming cup of sweet milky coffee, a blanket, a good book and a furry cat. Too bad I have articles to write, mails to send, work to supervise, essays to read, and syllabus to complete. But somehow, I quite like being a workaholic. God forbid I should be one of those people who revel in having nothing to do. I have nothing against them! But I don't think I'd be able to live as one. Takes all kinds to make a world, eh?

Whirlwind Of Days.

2009-11-13T20:56:00.004+05:30

I can't believe it's already mid-November. Time is flying by so quickly that I feel breathlessly caught up in this whirlwind of days. One assignment after the other, a Term Paper to write, an approaching wedding, my usual work, books to read and movies to watch... It's a wonder I get any time to sleep. I have been told my time management is good - perhaps it is, perhaps it's not. I don't know. All I know is, sometimes I find myself wishing that I could at least enjoy these moments, and feel them, if you know what I mean. But everything is passing by so fast... Ah well - I guess c'est la vie.
On a less philosophical note, I'm glad to note my best friend is blogging again. She's been through a bad patch lately, and I think returning to the Blogosphere will do her some good. Life's always screwed up, it's how we deal with it that defines us as people. She'll get through everything fine, I know it. Besides, what doesn't kill you just makes you stronger, right? Cliche, but true. Hugs to you, Shreya!
Coming back to me, there's a lot of stuff I need to get out of the way. Academic, non-academic, work-related, I could go on and on. For the moment, though, listen to this song: "I'll Be There" - by Escape Club. It's my latest obsession.
And now, to work, to work! Hark, the Term Paper calls!

It's Sometimes Hilarious...

2009-11-03T20:39:00.004+05:30

...How funny my line of work can be. I tell you, I meet such characters! People who stand out for their sheer eccentricity, who are so extremely comical that meeting them is an experience in itself! I shall tell you about 3 of the many people I've met, and you can judge for yourself.

Number One: The Shy Interviewee (A Real Pain To Talk To)

Why grant an interview if you're not going to talk? This one lady I interviewed, just refused to open her mouth! Sure, she answered questions, but it's difficult to get material for my copy if she doesn't elaborate, you know? This woman just clammed up and said, "I don't like talking about my achievements!" Well, that's admirable, I suppose, but not when you're giving an interview.

In some context, I asked her her husband's name, to which she dryly replied, "Is that necessary?" Oh come on, why not let me be the judge of that? Plus, if it wasn't necessary, would I really be asking it? (Perhaps she was too shy to say her husband's name aloud, who knows?)

Number Two: The Over-Excited PR Man ("Wow! An interview!")

PR professionals are a dime a dozen in this country, but some really stand out. This particular one I met, while covering a L'oreal parlour and a restaurant (both accounts of which he handled) was just bounding over the place with excitement, at the thought of them being covered in Femina. He didn't stop talking the entire time, I think he asked me a minimum of 7 times whether I wanted tea.

This man was so thrilled, he even suggested I get my hair done at the L'oreal place, to which I said a shocked NO, I didn't let anyone but Asif (Transcend, TollyClub) touch my hair! He seemed disappointed, but just for 2 seconds. Right after that, he asked me if I wanted a manicure. Enough said.

Number Three: The PR Guy Who Gave The Interview On Behalf Of His Client (This one takes the cake!)

Again, a reticent interviewee, who just wouldn't talk even though I knew for a fact that her achievements were many. Her PR guy, on the other hand, more than made up for it. Not only did he tell me about her involvement in some TV programmes and an award she's recently been given, but he even told me her favourite movies, her favourite kind of tea, and the city she'd travelled to last! (To which the interviewee said to him, "Baap re, tumi toh amake besh bhaloi jano, better than I know myself!)

I tell you, it's worth it doing what I do, if not for the exposure, then for meeting these gems!

The WorryWart Speaks.

2009-10-08T22:15:00.003+05:30

I have been rather worried lately. Firstly, Ma's not been well. She has a cyst in her back, and has to undergo surgery to get it removed. Plus the surgery's not as minor as we think it is. It involves stitches, anaesthesia, and she probably needs to stay in hospital for a few days. I've never been good with medical stuff, and this is breaking me down even more, but I am staying strong for her sake. Plus, seeing her in pain is NOT my idea of fun. I'm just praying for the surgery to get over quickly, I want her to be her usual perky self again.
Then of course, there is the Macbeth project which is due - which I am not being able to get involved with much, because of Ma not being well. I feel terribly guilty, because the others seem to be doing most of the work. *sigh*
I am also worried because I have been feeling certain stuff lately, and I'm not completely sure what I should do about it. Perhaps I should not do anything at all? And just go along with the flow? But then there are intense moments of happiness, and equally intense moments of sadness which get to me, and I worry about how I shall get through this.
But there are hot baths, cuddly furry cats, text messages, friends and cheese to get me through all the worrying. *grin*

Turning 21. And The Days Surrounding It.

2009-09-18T23:48:00.006+05:30

I am now 21. Wrinkle cream, anyone? People keep telling me that I'm young (and no doubt I am), and not to obsess over it so much, but all the same, I can't help feeling a little disappointed that Time is passing me by so quickly. It feels like just yesterday that I was 13! But I guess that's what Time does, it's over before you know it.

But I have turned 21, and I am accepting that some moments are fleeing by altogether too quickly for my liking. The challenge, I guess, lies in living each moment and enjoying everything.

Thank you, Ma, for the beautiful pendant and the earrings - I know I said I didn't want anything, and really, I wouldn't have minded if you'd given me just a hug, but trust you to know how much I adore gold! How many girls get gold and diamonds on their birthday? I'm very lucky and blessed. I love you, thank you so much.

Thank you, Guppy, for the flowers. A fantastic surprise - them landing up at midnight. I'd have loved for you and Divya to be here, but ah well, everything's not possible. But thank you for doing your part to make this birthday special.

Thank you, Buri and Tuki, for being such amazing sisters, and putting up with all my idiotic comments and still giving me such great presents. I know it must have been difficult buying something for me, and I love you both all the more for putting in the effort!

Thank you, Shreya, for giving me so many gifts, I'm really really embarrassed. The bottle of Frooti was a nice touch, and totally unexpected. It's awesome having a friend like you, not just on a birthday, but for all 365 days of the year! *tighthug*

So. I'm 21 now. Woohoo. *feels important*
And as for the days surrounding it... Well, watch this space, I shall write "if and when..."
*wink*

For the moment, look at some pictures.

Prejudice.

2009-09-03T11:57:00.005+05:30

I don't usually receive too many phone forwards, but when I do, I like reading through them, and having a good laugh. Yesterday, one was sent to me. A joke. It read:

"A man kicked a mad dog to save a lady. The news the next day read, "Indian saves lady." Man said, "I'm not Indian." The news was updated to read, "Foreigner saves lady." Man said, "I'm Pakistani." The news then read, "Terrorist attacks local dog!"

Needless to say, I was pretty shocked. Have we, as a race, reached such a state where we classify all Muslims as terrorists? Or perhaps all Sardars as stupid? Or even all Marwaris as money-oriented? What place is there for individuality?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those people who take offence at every little thing, I don't shake my head disapprovingly when Indians are made fun of in certain movies. I'll laugh at a Sardar joke, I might even grin if you tell me that Hitler would sneeze with a strong burst of "Aah-aah-Jew!"

But perhaps in our desire for humour, we have all taken it a bit too far? Perhaps now we do not bother to draw a line between humour for the fun of it, and shocking generalisation. What about the Muslim who is not a terrorist, the man who wakes up every day, goes to work, comes back, and spends time with his family? The one who leads a perfectly harmless life, the one who is a respectable law-abiding citizen? Must he go through this torture as well?

This prejudice exists in each and everyone. I'm no hypocrite, I'll admit I have my share of prejudices, but I'll also admit that it's not healthy, that I'm trying to rid myself of them. What's not healthy is clinging on to these meaningless notions of hate for a particular race, or religion, and acting as if they define us.

A few days back, my friends and I were sitting at the canteen, when this one boy in our group started talking about how he hated Marwaris, and how they should all be banned from the face of the earth. Now there was a Marwari boy sitting right there (a really nice person, whom we all like), and he doesn't take offence easily, but he did get a little ruffled. He asked, "Why such strong opinions?" And this Marwari-hater calmly says, "I don't know. I can't explain it. It's anger at its purest."

Anger at its purest?? What on earth does that even mean? Does he think he sounds like some Greek tragic hero? Does he think that we Bengalis are universally loved? Every race, every community, every religion in the world has its share of haters.

It's horrible. The way a person can calmly say that he despises X race or Y religion, and in the same sentence admit that there is no reason. Have we been brought up with all these shortcomings, or do they gradually grow on us as we go along?

This joke in the phone forward was in humour, I get it. I'm not making a mountain of a molehill. But all the same, it's pretty shocking to see that we're living in a world where individuality does not matter anymore, where your character is judged upon your colour, caste, religion, or even sex. I know I'm being idealistic in thinking that we should live in a world where individual characteristics and personality traits matter, but the world is a complicated place, and I guess there's so much to take into account in each case.

But, meanwhile, a slice of blatant discrimination, anyone?

Loss.

2009-08-16T22:25:00.005+05:30

Sometimes, I miss you so much it hurts. I retreat to a private little corner of my world, nursing a physical pain that refuses to go away. You have left behind an emptiness, and sometimes I think it strange that a void can hurt so much.

I remember you with photographs and with remembrances of certain incidents, and with scribbled notes in books. I look at the framed pictures of you, and open that Old Spice bottle just to remind myself of the way you used to smell. And I even see you in myself.

But somehow, I still miss you. I wish you were here, and sometimes, I find myself wondering if you are watching over me. If you're not, come here please, I need you. And if you are, stay - don't go just yet. I still need you around. Perhaps I always will.

All In A Day's Work.

2009-07-24T19:24:00.005+05:30

Wake up. Pet Pickles. Point and laugh at bed-hair in the mirror. Brush teeth. Agonise over what to wear to university. Shower, breakfast, Pujo ritual, and oh yes, the kajal - before leaving for class. Gnash teeth at the Jadavpur-Thana traffic jam. Attend 4 classes back-to-back, more often than not. Groan at right hand that is nearly falling off after pages and pages of note-taking. Sit around for some lyadh and the usual dose of PNPC. Rue the fact that there are NO hot men in Calcutta. Come back, gnashing teeth at the Jadavpur-Thana traffic jam once again. Shower and change into T-shirt and one of my many pairs of denim shorts. Time for quick snack. Get down to work. Get bored and pass the time on Facebook and Youtube. Study if I'm feeling geeky. Listen to all of Ma's work stories when she comes home. Talk on the phone for a bit. Eat dinner. Read for a while. Go to sleep.

It's another big day tomorrow. *sigh*

Random Picture Post.

2009-06-12T13:26:00.009+05:30

Pickles sitting beside my laptop, with her tongue out.

With Guppy, on Ma's 47th birthday.

Dewdrops on flower, at Tollygunge Club.

Me at Jude picnic, this year. (Courtesy: Sohini)

Revisiting The Catcher In The Rye.

2009-06-09T22:59:00.004+05:30

I re-read The Catcher In The Rye recently. The last time I read it was years back - maybe when I was 13. And I was struck by how my perspective and opinion on the book has changed since then. When I read it then, Holden Caulfield was me - so what if he was an 18-year old fictional American character, and I was a 13-year old real Indian girl? His angst was my angst, his dilemmas were my dilemmas, and his adolescent turmoil was exactly what I identified with.

But when I read it now, I have trouble identifying with Holden. I guess I've changed - yes, we all do, and our outlooks alter over time, with experience and the gradual loss of adolescent anger.

Don't get me wrong, J D Salinger's book is still a great one, the writing is brilliant - and it captures teenage angst and depression extremely well, but it's just that I feel differently about it now. (Shreya's going to kill me for this.)

I've grown up, apparently. Yes, I'm sure in some ways I still identify with Holden's character, but on the whole, I was actually left thinking, "What a wimp, he needs some maturity." But perhaps that's just my maturity speaking, at the risk of sounding presumptous. I suppose it happens to all of us - maybe this is a defining moment for me. I've realised I'm certainly past the "Holden Caulfield Point", and while a little part of me is slightly disconcerted to realise I don't identify with Holden anymore, on the whole- I feel glad that I've grown up. My perspectives may have changed, but I feel I'm more at ease with my adult self.

In a way, I'm glad I re-read the book. It's made me come to terms with the fact that I've moved on. And that my life, too, has moved on.

Thoughts On A Sunday Night.

2009-05-31T21:54:00.004+05:30

Before, Sundays were always a lazy day for me. I used to spend them doing nothing at all - perhaps a bit of music, a few pages of a book, but mostly just lazing around. Right now, I can't remember the last lazy Sunday I spent. There's just so much stuff to do - so much work, so much reading to catch up on... Today, I spent the morning cleaning out my study-table, and I will get to my cupboards next Sunday. I like cleaning stuff. Yes yes, you may say I have OCD, but I feel so much better when things are clean and properly settled.

I am really looking forward to next semester, in spite of the fact that we have 4 Honours papers to get through. ADG will be coordinating the Detailed Study of a Shakespeare Play course, so woohoo. Tintin-da will be coordinating Modernism, and I am also taking Popular and Genre Fiction in the 19th Century, which promises to be really interesting. (Anything that has Dracula and Through The Looking Glass in the syllabus will be great!) Then there's Modernist Prose, I really like Shantanu-da's teaching, so that, too, should be good. Yes, next semester will be difficult, but it also sounds really appealing, and I plan to pay a lot more attention to academics this time.

(Yes, you can laugh now.)

Moving on...

I went shopping last week, bought lots of random stuff - pasta, mushrooms, Iced Tea powder... This week, I shall go shopping again, to buy a couple of notebooks and a few pens, and of course - anything else that captures my fancy. I fear I am turning into a shopaholic. Very soon, I shall be broke. *sigh*

Sometimes, I feel insecure about myself. I wish I were artistically gifted. I wish I could paint wonderful pictures, or take amazing photographs. I wish I were musically gifted - I've always wanted to learn the violin, I tried, but I have no musical talent whatsoever. Sometimes, I feel hopelessly inadequate, but Obelix just jumped onto my lap, and I'm instantly feeling much better. I'm reminded of how lucky I am, that I am fortunate to have a great life, interesting work, a lovely family, fantastic friends, and as for gifts - well, I can wiggle my ears. How many people can do that?

Need Every Post Necessarily Be Titled?

2009-05-24T18:21:00.005+05:30

I am feeling ridiculously sick. My throat is sore, my head aches, and I have a cold that refuses to go away. I have a feeling fever might be on its way now. I'm no hypochondriac, I don't generally talk about ill-health, but right now, I feel so ill I want to stay in bed all day.

It's raining outside, and the sound of the raindrops falling is strangely soothing. I'd like to go for a walk, but of course that's out of the question. I'm craving Hot and Sour Soup right now. And Pan Fried Momos. And perhaps some Chocolate Cake, fresh out of the oven.

I want to go shopping. For random stuff. For spiral-bound notebooks, for pens that write in purple and green, for photo-frames. I want to see my friends, I want to talk random rubbish and laugh till my sides hurt.

I want to see my brother. I want to buy that MAD magazine Collector's Edition I saw at Starmark on Friday. I want to paint my nails pink.

I want entirely too much right now. And I don't like being ill. Damn it.

P.S. - I'm sick, so please ignore the rather bad writing.

Love, Concern, Fear, And All The Rest Of It.

2009-05-13T22:37:00.005+05:30

Tomorrow, I am getting Pickles spayed. Probably it's nothing to worry about, it's not a major operation, but I can't help feeling twinges of worry. I hope she gets through it fine.

Just excessive panic, perhaps. But I do love her so so much. I've had her since she was a little kitten, she literally grew up in my arms, and she curled up into my hair while sleeping. Now, she doesn't sleep in my hair anymore, but right beside my pillow.

Perhaps I would be better off panicking about the exams, but exams be damned. Pickles is more than a pet - she's part of me. And I hope everything goes okay tomorrow.

In Just A Few Days...

2009-05-10T23:41:00.004+05:30

...The end-semester exams will be upon us. I'm not studying. Big surprise. I keep telling myself I'll get down to it soon, yet that "soon" is just a vague idea, a remote speck on the horizon. And that reminds me - my friends came over yesterday, I cooked for them. And among other things, we talked about how our writing styles have changed, ever since JUDE happened. There's a huge difference between then and now.

I'd written a post almost a couple of years back, on this blog, on my favourite smells. When I go back to it now, I'm struck by how childish it is. Yet, (like we concluded yesterday) if we were to write on the same thing today, it would be seemingly profound, and full of pauses pregnant with meaning. Something along the lines of "Smells... Memories... Freshly cut grass. Ah, to lie beneath the stars and experience the sweet intoxication..."

Aah, the perils of being an English-Honours student!

But JUDE hasn't really changed me. In many ways, I'm still the person I was, I haven't changed too many of my beliefs, and so far, I've stayed away from the things I always promised myself I'd stay away from. Yes, perhaps my writing style has changed, and perhaps I'm a calmer person now, more at ease with myself and in sync with the rest of the world, but essentially, I think I'm the same.

And I'm glad JUDE happened, and not just for the change in my writing. I've met some really amazing people, I've made some wonderful friends, friends whom I don't just like, but respect as well. And sometimes when the going gets tough, even though I'm a loner at heart, I know there's support should I need it.

I seem to have rambled on and on, and this post has suddenly turned very sentimental. Perhaps I shall write more on my friends later, but for now - like I said, I'm not studying, and doesn't it show? *grin*

Of Curses And Cold Coffee.

2009-04-27T22:51:00.004+05:30

I think there might be some curse over my head. Or maybe some evil spirit floating around. No, I'm not going all weirdly religious or Tantric, but strange things have been happening. First came that whole burglar-bomb incident on Friday night, which was too traumatic - I don't want to go into that again. If that wasn't enough, the next evening, there was another bomb discovered, right in front of of the house opposite us. Enter the Police and the 'Bomb Squad' again, who ran a metal detector over it, frowned at the rather worrisome beeps, and then packed it up and drove away. How much must we deal with? And I always thought my locality was such a quiet, harmless one.

Then, today, I walked out of my house and was halfway to the auto stand before I realised I had forgotten to take my purse! Big deal, you think, sometimes everyone forgets to take something or the other. But that's the issue. I never forget. At any given point in time, I am always carrying my wallet, my phone, my keys, a notebook and pen, and mint. I always, always leave home with those bare essentials! A slip-up like this isn't a good sign.

Anyway, after I remembered I'd forgotten the purse, I went back and got it. No harm done. But nothing had prepared me for the auto-accident.

That happened near Lake Gardens. The auto-driver rammed head-on into one of those small lorries. (I think a tempo?) The funniest thing was: I was looking ahead, I saw the tempo coming at us, I knew a crash was going to happen, and it all seemed to happen in slow-motion. My mind went absolutely blank, I felt numb. Everything went blank, save for this really surreal feeling. The crash was a pretty bad one - tremendous jerk, a bit of skidding, but no serious injuries, thank God. The shock wasn't easy to deal with. I made my way to college somehow after that, avoiding the crowds that gathered. Right now, I'm thanking my stars we didn't crash into something bigger, like a bus or maybe an actual lorry. If that were the case, I'd actually be dead now, or seriously injured, God forbid.

Like I said, maybe there's some curse on me. Or maybe it's just a bad time. Life does happen in phases. There are good moments, and bad moments.

But ah well. There are things that make up for the bombs and the accident. The good, or dare I say, great moments. Like Cold Coffee and extra sachets of sugar. Like lots of shopping and chitchat. Like gifting a dokra fish to my mother. Sometimes, life's really worth living, and all the auto accidents and bombs in the world can't change that.

Screw the politicians and the police force. Give us security in our own homes!

2009-04-25T12:04:00.002+05:30

We can deal with power-cuts. But dacoits in the middle of a power-cut are a different ball game altogether. We simply cannot deal with this rather deadly combination. On Friday night (24th April) two dacoits jumped onto the asbestos roof above our house gate, disappeared into the darkness.(This in New Alipore, which is supposedly ‘a safe area’.)

Meanwhile, all the locality people were standing around watching, occasionally shouting “There he goes! Catch him!” Two traffic guards who happened to be on the scene kept crying “Come down, otherwise we’ll shoot your legs!” We’d locked all our doors and our gates, were peering out of the windows into the darkness, we were afraid they were hiding in our backyard – it may all sound overly dramatic to you, but just take a moment to think about it. What would you have felt, in such a situation? Yes, you’d have been as scared as I was.

And our police force? Well, they took their own sweet time coming, of course. We understand. It must be rather hard to leave the comfort of the muri-aloo chop in their office. They arrived after half an hour, poked around half-heartedly at the remnants of the bombs the robbers had let off. We kept telling them to go into our neighbouring apartment building and check the flats, because we were afraid that the robbers might have hidden there, or worse still – taken someone hostage there.

Our pot-belled police force stood around for some time, basked in the glory of the chaos and the confusion, shouted gruff instructions at each other, and then left, supposedly to get ‘reinforcements’. Reinforcements consisted of two men, who checked our backyard, and looked at the bag of bombs the robbers had left on the road. After a couple of hours, when things had settled down somewhat, we heard shouts from a house behind us – apparently the thieves had been caught.

Now this incident raises a lot of questions.

Firstly, where was our locality Councillor, and why was he not answering his phone? When he called his brother, he said they were busy with Mamata. VIPs indeed. Who have risen far above the votes that we gave them, who have forgotten the fact that they are in power precisely because WE gave them power!

Secondly, why did the power take so long to come back? We called CESC, who asked us to call Lalbazaar, who in turn said that the fault lay with CPI(M). And frantic calls to the New Alipore Police Station went in vain. Also, the ‘Bomb Squad’ looked rather scared at the bag of bombs lying on the pavement in front of our house.

Thirdly, a reputed regional channel showed the news on their scroll. The headline, “In the middle of a power-cut, our efficient police force caught some dacoits.” I’m a Literature student, so I understand how words can be twisted, but wow- these people take it to a whole different level! Also, the channel in question is pro-CPI(M), and right at that moment, they were showing Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee live in their studio. Seems they used this incident for their own political leverage.

Fourthly, I wonder whether the robbers are still in custody. Or have they bribed the policemen, and left? To wreak further havoc? Why can’t we feel safe in our own homes? This is indeed a sad state of affairs. What an inefficient police force we have. Why, if the robbers took to their heels, the police-men wouldn’t even be able to run after them – they’re so notoriously unfit!

Why does everything have to take on a political colour? There are innocent men in our locality, helpless women and children – are we supposed to watch on while robbers throw bombs around and attack the security of our locality? Are we supposed to depend on our politicians and our police-force, while we citizens have to suffer?

A horrible incident indeed. I won’t forget seeing that bomb going off, neither will I forget the sounds of the woman screaming next door. We talk about ‘change’, and ‘political parties working for the good of the country’, and ‘the power of West Bengal’. But does it all mean anything? Does anything really matter when, of all things, we cannot feel safe in our own homes?

The Second Ear Piercing.

2009-04-11T23:50:00.003+05:30

Sometimes, all it takes to overcome a lifelong fear and queasiness is the reassuring touch of a friend's hand, plenty of Mentos, and the thought of cold coffee and PNPC.

Tempus Fugit.

2009-04-04T10:24:00.006+05:30

Yes, time flies. The days are fast fading, blurring into one another with an intensity that is frightening. Classes, work, work, and more work seem to be all that make up my life now. The heat suffocates me, how long can Iced Tea be my saviour? And then, sometimes, that little breath of fresh air comes, the one that I am unsure of, the one that I am confused about. Sometimes I wish certain things could be better explained, or even a little clearer, but then again I think that perhaps this is a "Que sera sera" situation here. Yes- I suppose "Whatever will be, will be."

Life is a wild haze now, with colours, events, and people all blending into each other - there's only so much I can make sense of.

Thank God for my friends, for they keep me sane.

Photo courtesy: Rimi-di, taken on the JUDE picnic in 2008. I posted this because it seemed so apt, somehow.

The Birthday And The Bodhisatwa.

2009-03-28T13:31:00.008+05:30

Ma's 48th birthday came and went amidst a lot of love, laughter, celebration and presents. Here's wishing her a fabulous year ahead.

Guppy's here too, and like always, it's massive fun having him around. His cooking is now an added bonus!

It's nice to have the Dasguptas back together, if only for a short while.

Of Greasy Crisps And Unique Ads.

2009-03-23T11:57:00.005+05:30

Sometimes, I get bored of these multiplexes, with their swanky decor, their shiny leather seats, and their eternally-smiling staff. I long to go back to the days when multiplexes didn't exist in the city - when we had to go to New Empire or Globe, to watch a film. I passed one of these theatres the other day, and was struck with memories - of those oily crisps and popcorn, and the slightly uncomfortable seats. And if you looked a little closely, you might have been able to see grime on the walls. Are we better off without them? Perhaps. But these were unmatchable experiences.

But you know what I miss most, about these theatres of yesteryear? I miss the advertisements they screened. The Vicco Turmeric ad, with its catchy jingle - "Vicco Turmeric, Vicco Turmeric, Vicco Turmeric Ayurvedic Paste!" And that ad for the beauty parlour Sangam, which ended with "Sangam... We have no branch!" - to which everyone in the audience would unfailingly chant "Thank GOD!"

Fame and Inox are all very well, but there are some things they'll never be able to live up to. Eat your heart out, you multiplexes with your flavoured popcorn and plush leather seats!

Happy Women's Day.

2009-03-08T22:33:00.006+05:30

Sometimes being a woman isn't just about bra-burning. It's not about refusing to go into the kitchen, it's not about making a statement by not wearing sindoor despite being married.
Being a woman is about so much more.
It's about picking up the pieces when disaster strikes, and carrying on with your head held high. It's about never compromising yourself, on your beliefs and values. It's about discovering your hidden potential.
It's about the power of giving birth, and the beauty of unconditional love.
To the woman I love most, and respect even more - Happy Women's Day.

Someday.

2009-02-23T00:19:00.003+05:30

Someday, I shall go to Venice, and take a ride on a gondola.
Someday, I shall take my mother to see the world.
Someday, I shall direct and stage my own musical.
Someday, I shall write a book.

I'm going to make all my dreams come true, one step at a time.

Tagged by Sohini and Shreya.

2009-02-03T19:27:00.007+05:30

25 Random things, facts, habits, goals about myself:

The songs I am currently addicted to are "Come On, Eileen" (The Cure), and "Morning Has Broken" (Cat Stevens).
I have OCD. And that's not a big secret. I straighten pictures on the wall if they're crooked, I get intensely bothered by dust, and I don't let anyone doodle on my notebook. In fact, I don't doodle myself on my notebook!
Cooking is my passion, and I feel incomplete without it. It's like therapy, you know? The kitchen is one of my favourite places to be.
I am tremendously scared of heights. Oh, and lizards disgust me.
My favourite books are Frankenstein, and Haroun And The Sea Of Stories. I could read them over and over again.
I like pink. I look good in the colour. And I'm not ashamed to admit it. *grin*
Hypocrisy is a big turn-off for me. There's nothing worse than pretending to be something you're not.
My chocolate cakes are awesome, and have gathered quite a fan following. *grin* I'm not bragging, just merely stating a fact.
I don't wear a watch. I feel uncomfortable in them. For me, looking at the time on my mobile phone is enough.
I have a serious problem with injections and blood tests. I black out when the needle pricks my arm. I'm not too comfortable with the sight of blood, either. And that's putting it mildly.
"Ratatouille" - my favourite animated film. That movie was just awesome!
Clingyness and being over-friendly make me uncomfortable. I'm a person who needs my space.
I'm not very brand conscious, but certain brands I do swear by. For example, I don't wear any other jeans but Levi's, I practically live in Converse shoes! And I adore Nina Ricci perfume.
Sushi gets to me. I can't stand the dish. Tried it, hated it.
I am quite happy being alone, and doing stuff on my own. Lots of people feel terrifically lonely when left to themselves, but not me. I think I've always been a bit removed, if you know what I mean.
JUDE is one of the best things that has happened to me. Literally, a dream come true.
I miss my dad terribly. And I hugely admire my mother for what she's made of herself. I'd consider myself fortunate if I could be even half the person she is.
If I could visit any one place, it'd be Venice. I've always wanted to go there.
I can eat a lot, without putting on weight.
In the last one year or so, I've made some really close friends. And I love each one of them, for being so special. You all know who you are. *grin*
I'd like to name my daughter (if I have one) - Nayantara, or Mrinalini. I think they're very pretty names. Moplah, are you listening? *wink*
I adore the smells of citrus and vanilla. Oh, and new books too.
I never go out on Sundays, unless absolutely necessary. For me, it's the day to stay at home. Wild horses wouldn't be able to drag me out.
I am obsessed with earrings! I have countless pairs, half of which I haven't even worn as yet, and I still buy more!
I have a hot temper, which flares up easily sometimes, making me say the most awful things. (Sometimes, I've even thrown stuff.) But I'm much more in control of it than I used to be.

After A Visit To The Book Fair...

2009-01-30T22:10:00.004+05:30

I have 8 new books to add to my Guilt Trip. (Refer to previous post.) >grin<

Tender Is The Night - F. Scott Fitzgerald
A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess (I've already read this, but I bought it today because it was being sold for half the price!)
India - Shashi Tharoor (The man's writing is just unbelievably good. And you know what else? He oozes charisma!)
Magic Seeds - V S Naipaul
Mojar Golpo (A collection of stories by writers like Bankimchandra, Tagore, and others- I have made up my mind to read more Bengali.)
Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman - Haruki Murakami (I have been wanting to try his stuff for a while, finally got around to buying a book.)
The World According To Bertie - Alexander McCall Smith
Twelve Red Herrings - Jeffrey Archer (Again, have read this, but ages back, hence have forgotten most of the stories. Also, someone whacked my copy- so I bought it again.)

And the saddest thing is- what with texts to read for college, I won't be able to touch these anytime soon. >wails<

I'm feeling a little guilty....

2009-01-25T21:11:00.008+05:30

Because there is a substantial stack of books lying around that have piled up, and are waiting to be read. I have been promising myself that I shall get around to them soon, but that 'soon' remains a little speck, distant on the horizon.

I shall start by finishing The Picture Of Dorian Gray and Aaron's Rod (>sigh<), and then, hopefully, get to Fury (Salman Rushdie).

It seems all I do nowadays is cook. Made chicken flavoured with coconut milk and dry red chillis the other day, pasta this afternoon, and in the evening- a chocolate-coffee cake, flavoured with cinnamon. Cooking's one of the only things that makes sense to me anymore, and it's wonderful how much better it makes me feel- about life and just about everything else.

Guppy's here for the weekend, and as usual, he's making us all split our sides with laughter with his antics and constant witticisms. I'll be sorry to see him go- he leaves tomorrow.

Pickles has been unnaturally friendly off late, coming and purring on my stomach, leaping into my lap, and even following me about the house. She's such a cute little cat- so furry and so soft. I found this picture of her and myself, (taken a few weeks back) in one of my picture folders. It's one of my favourites. >grin<

I'd been feeling pretty low this week, having to deal with the pain of memories and the realisation that some people have shocking double standards. But I'm dealing with it, and I know I'll be all right. I have my family and friends. I have my cats. I have music. I have cooking. Heck, I even have my Levi's Jeans!
Yes, I'll be okay. >grin<

Life.

2009-01-13T22:36:00.004+05:30

Things I have learnt:

Nobody's perfect, but then again, perfection is a matter of perspective.
People change.
Therefore, the perceptions of perfection, too, must change.

It's such a crazy, messed up world we live in, but yet so wonderful, with its depth of emotion and human relationships. But at times, I feel like I could do without it all, I want to get away from all the feelings, the pain, the memories, and the strange sense of emptiness I feel sometimes nowadays.
*sigh*