Confessions of a Bibliophile

I try and try to accurately recollect it, but I can't. I can venture a guess and probably hit the mark, but that won't be the same as truly knowing.
I want to know what is the first book I ever read.
I'm assuming it was one of those cute little picture books with Cinderella and Peter Pan. But again, I'm not sure.

I was thinking about this when I was up till 3 reading last night. (I was re-re-reading 1984, if you must know.) My sister still finds it incredulous that I read for fun, and that I don't have a perpetual book report assignment! The fact that I can stay up all night reading novels of my interest, but have trouble keeping my eyes open by twelve a.m. the night before my board exam troubles her. It is now common for my father to get up in the middle of the night for water, find my reading light on and me curled up under my blanket with a book.

A large part of me is defined by my love for books, and consequently, for the written word. What started off as being mesmerized by fairy tales and using the word "famished" instead of hungry at age 5, has now turned into something I cannot even sleep without.

There is one lady I would like to blame for this.
Her name is Enid Blyton.
I devoured every single book she served, and every chapter of my childhood has the indelible imprint of a Blyton book. From my innocent little Noddy days to naughty prankster Amelia Jane, from the adventurous Famous Five series to the Oh-I'm-a--grown-up-girl Mallory Towers books.
Although there is no retirement age for Enid Blyton, I switched loyalties by the end of 5th grade to the dark, gloomy, mysterious world of Agatha Christie and Arthur Conan Doyle. Yes, I admit to falling head over heels in love with Sherlock Holmes. And I always found comfort in grandmotherly Miss Marple to solve a small-town murder. Soon enough, I entered the eccentric little world of Roald Dahl and the Big Friendly Giant became my best friend. :)
Then, in 7th grade, my English teacher goaded me to read classics. When I first placed hands on the paperback Jane Eyre, I didn't know what to think. For one thing, it was fat and bulky! And the vocabulary was beyond my comprehension! I had no clue what the words conventionality, self-righteousness, clamored and agonized meant. I sat with a dictionary, underlined words and slowly, I learned.
I discovered that I loved words sometime around then. And it is a discovery that has shaped a huge portion of my 17 years on this lonely planet.

I can write about discovering Sidney Sheldon, Jeffrey Archer, John Grisham, Lee Child, James Patterson and the like. But you get the drift. I really started enjoying books. I used to love going to the school library and picking out these books.

But now, with college and work, I find myself unable to devote as much time to my books. When I return home at 9 p.m., I am too tired to divert my energies towards a McCarthy or Murakami. Numbing televised entertainment is all I can take for an hour before I crash my head into my pillow.

However, I eagerly wait for Friday and Saturday nights for a marathon book read, so I can wake up leisurely over the weekend. On those days, the thrill of written words takes over. I am magically transported to make-believe worlds where I can imagine characters and situations that are NOT conjured by television networks. I trust literature to challenge my perceptions and enrich my intellect. Time flies when I set my mind and eyes on some good writing, and I forget all about an unfinished episode. The pleasant smell of old books as I stand a few inches from my bookshelf, the yellowing old pages of a Jeffrey Archer, the comforting weight of a book in my hands- it all reminds me why reading is the most satisfying and compelling experience.

I think I'll read a Famous Five sometime soon. I just need my Blyton shot. :)

To Answers, wherever I may find them.

Will I visit this place in my lifetime?

                                                      Stockholm Public Library

Is wanting to live in this beautiful Norwegian home asking for too much? 

To be happy or to be successful?

There are those who think happiness is overrated. 

They are the ones who don't understand life at all.

If that makes me selfish or an objectivist, so be it.

My life. My terms. I want happiness. Lucky for people, I find happiness in the smallest things.

These aren't the questions I meant to ask here. 

They were (a little) more important than these ones.

I've been feeling apprehensive about my future of late. 

What do I really want to make of my life? 

Will I able to make a difference? Bring about a change in attitude, circumstance or ideology?

There is so much I want to do. 

I want to drive change, influence and engender passion. I don't want to be just one of the many with a high-powered executives with a prestigious job and hefty salary. I really don't. I would much rather earn a smaller income and do something more substantial in my life.Yes, I know how many reading this will think of the immature idealism underlining this statement. You will probably read it with the stinted hollow of the dubious.

To be honest, as I write this, I am thinking the same things.

The impracticality and impossibility of it all.

I hear people talking about leaving the country and never looking back. I hear all the rationale for getting a good job somewhere and being 'settled'. And the funny thing is, that also makes sense. A lot of sense. That might just be what I end up doing with my life.

It's just that the idea of being 'settled', implies a certain amount of complacence and satisfaction with what I see around me. 

There are so many things I'm thinking of right now and unable to frame coherently into a sentence.

For lack of a better way to put it, I would always like to be somewhat dissatisfied with what I see and what I do. Or else, what is the point of it all?

I have completely forgotten the point of this post. Tell me if you find one.

Trimester Ends.

Fun fact: I always associated the word trimester with pregnancy before college began.
And sometimes, it still feels that way.

The first trimester is a time of profound changes, and everyone experiences these changes in their own unique way. Excitement and fatigue. Anxiety and hope. Junk food sprees and the subsequent weight gain. The coffee craving. The occasional mood swing.
That's common to both the blushing newly-pregnant woman and the outgoing college kid, don't you agree?

The first trimester of my first year in college ends today.
It's eleven in the morning. Yes, you guessed correctly, I bunked. Who attends two lectures of Sociology in sweltering October heat on a Saturday morning, anyway? :P

Exams start in three days.
Can I call myself prepared?
Not by the farthest stretch of even Shakespeare's imagination!

Even Elvis and Pearl Jam are unable to make bivariate linear regression(Whaaaaaat? :O) somewhat interesting.
Am I doomed or am I doomed?

But oh, look!

08 OCTOBER 2010

Guest Post: An Open Letter to a Stranger

This new guest post is brought to you by Nitisha; a fellow writer and blogger. She is a great writer who recently sent this post as an email submisison. Don't forget to submit your guest posts to jhaish09@gmail.com. Check out Nitisha's Open Letter to a Stranger then check out her blog here.

Here's the story.
I sent Jessi, the super blogger on The Musings of a Wannabe Star(having 1109 followers, not to miss!) my blog-post "To a Stranger" a week ago, and she actually posted it on her blog!! Check it out at http://jhaish.blogspot.com/2010/10/guest-post-open-letter-to-stranger.html
Exciting, right? :)

Guess there is something nice to be found in the worst of situations.
A pearl in an oyster, the end of a trimester.

Later. :)

All that was.

It's only Tuesday. The week has just begun. Yet I find it easy enough to say- I've had a rough week.

I don't want to talk about it. Not here, at least.

My issues are completely irrelevant in the larger scheme of things, right?

The Commonwealth Games are sprinting towards disaster. Snakes are being found in hotel rooms. Stray dogs sleep on the king-sized beds within the Village, politicians sleep on king-sized beds in the comfort of their mansions.

Verdict on the Babri Masjid title suit is to be delivered by the Allahabad High Court on September 30th. Pathetic how a case with such easily identifiable culprits has languished in lack-luster courts for almost eighteen years.

Aaah, life.

P.S. I finished a 4.5 kilometer marathon on Sunday.:)

P.P.S. Dealing with 'writer-rejection/inadequacy/what-made-me-think-I-could-write-so-well-anyway/why haven't I started studying yet/why don't I have a job yet' syndrome.

Yeah, not the best syndrome out there. :-/

Thoughtcrime

I feel like going away to a brand new city, maybe a whole new country and meeting a brand new set of people.Family and my 2 best friends run away with me, of course.


I feel like doing something productive and useful and important. I'm tired of lazing around.


I like 'elaichi tea' and green tea with lemon, more than coffee now.


I feel like finishing Anna Karenina. 


I feel like trashing noisy polythene packets for paper bags.


I feel like screaming at 95% of the people I see for being so mechanical and always looking for a leader to give directions.


I wish the BBA programme had as much practical interface with industry as I wished.


I wish I knew more than 8 girls who aren't superficial bimbos and more than 10 guys who aren't slackers.


Oops, the above make me sound like a nerd. A pedant. A hippie. A snob. A pretentious buffoon. Uncool, maybe.

In the society I'm in, saying all this out loud is like a crime.You say anything like this and you are immediately categorized into one of the above slots.
 No one really wants to 'think', no one really wants to 'change'. They are comfortable in the predictable and the familiar. They are comfortable living the stereotype.

Oh, Thought Police, I surrender. 
Punish me for thinking. Really. Coz I would much rather think all this aloud than not think at all.


 "Thoughtcrime does not entail death: thoughtcrime is death."
-Winston Smith in 1984, by George Orwell

A Letter to My Future Self

Dear Nitisha,

Today is Friday, 27th August 2010.

It's a pretty normal day, really. It's barely even started. College starts at 1.15 p.m. today, so I slept late last night and woke up late too. Yes, that's a big deal right now coz I barely get to stay snuggled in till 9.30!
The paper today says some interesting things.
( I read Times of India right now, but please, "future me", I hope you've migrated to Hindustan Times. It's for the greater good.)

Yeah, it says that Virender Sehwag's ODI mojo is back. All I kept thinking was that Virender Sehwag would probably not even understand the headline, if he were reading it.
Also, Aashayein released today. (Yeah, it releases today and even I don't have a clue about the star-cast so don't worry, it's no onset of Alzheimer if you don't recollect it. Oh wait, my one-time crush John Abraham is in it, but he is SO passe` now!)

Enough small talk.
I have only 3 super-important questions to ask you.

-Is U2 still together? And Sigur Ros? Have you finally seen them in concert?
-Did the world actually end in 2012 and are you the only one left alive, like Will Smith in I am Legend?
-Do you still blog?

(Five questions, I know. Don't catch me on a technicality now.)

And I have one semi-important question to ask you.
Do you still write?
I don't know how many years later you'll actually read this, but sitting here, right now, I know I enjoy writing. About anything.
 I'm midway through an Economics project for my midterms, and I actually had fun analyzing and writing down the findings from histograms and pie-charts.
You're cringing and saying, "I was such a nerd", right?

But writing has always been different.
Ever since you were ten and dreamed of sitting in that plush office, with a view of the skyline, you enjoyed reading literature, learning new words and using them, didn't you?
Writing was always a constant. Putting down thoughts on paper, in a somewhat coherent manner, made you feel alive. Proactive. Productive. It made life easy, it made it interesting. Your writing was always there.
That's why I'd like to know whether you write anymore. Or have you just turned into one of those bitchy career women?

I wonder what you're upto right now. At work? Unemployed? On vacation in the Caribbean?

Let's see. Is there anything I'd like to tell you right now?

Yeah, I have one piece of advice to give you. Keep thinking big. You never thought you'd have the courage to start a blog. You never thought it would cross the 10 follower mark. I'm three months into the blogosphere, and I have 28 followers. You never thought you would find Night by Elie Wiesel. You found the only tired, bruised copy in a tiny corner of Landmark. You never thought you would get 95 in your XIIth Accounts Board exams. You did.
Work hard and act on your passion. Right now, writing is mine. It feels absolutely great, and if you can do it for the rest of your life, don't let anything stop you.
Don't say 'Easy for you to say, I have a crippling work schedule', now. No excuses shall be entertained.

By the way, have you started believing in God?
And do people still write "LOL"?

So Nitisha, are you doing something important with your life yet?
At 5'2", what are your views?

Love,
Me.

P.S. Did Sana finally grow her hair? :)

Respect

"I simply state that I'm a product of a versatile mind in a restless generation — with every reason to throw my mind and pen in with the radicals. Even if, deep in my heart, I thought we were all blind atoms in a world as limited as a stroke of a pendulum, I and my sort would struggle against tradition; try, at least, to displace old cants with new ones. I've thought I was right about life at various times, but faith is difficult."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald


I like the people I meet in general. 
Most in my friend circle are fun-loving with a thin streak of sarcasm, a passion for breaking stereotypes and a flair for drama. 
That's basically what you will figure out within ten minutes of speaking to me too.


And then I think.
There are only SO many people you can genuinely 'like'.
There are people you only claim to like to keep up appearances, and people you like only for the first twenty minutes of conversation.
I like a lot of people, genuinely or otherwise.


It's been a long time I met a person I can not just like, but respect. 
For their scope of thought or abundant talent.


Does this make me a sound like a pretentious snob? Sure.
But I'm just being honest.
I feel like meeting Murakami. Or Whitman. Or someone who can just blow me away.
Anything to get respite from the drudgery and routine of timetables and economics.


Without feelings of respect, what is there to distinguish men from beasts?
Confucius

:-/

There are times you're happy. Joyful. Excited. And then there are these times. When more than anything else, you feel lonely. You reach out for someone who isn't necessarily there. My best and most reliable friends are books. That in itself, makes me feel sad tonight. This is crazy. I have a lot of friends, but tonight I feel lonely. Apart, not a part. I'm not feeling happy right now and i'm not sure why. I'm making myself some hot chocolate now, and will read myself to sleep. Night.

To be or not to be.

The French author François de la Rochefoucauld wrote, "We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves."

This is the guy who came up with 500 reflections on human behaviour. You'd think more people would listen to what he had to say, and take him seriously!

As someone who is 17, not a kiddie, not really an adult, no one knows better what it means to live such a schizophrenic life. 

With your friends you're one person, with your parents another, with your sister you turn into a crazy monkey and at a book-club meeting the sober intellectual with spectacles falling off your nose.

So, what does it mean to be yourself? To be consistent in your behaviour and body language?

I don't see it that way, but most do.

To me, being yourself is being consistent in your basic ideologies and thought processes at all times. 

For example, do you believe in the necessity of violence? No, you say? If that's your answer in any given situation, you're being yourself. On the other hand, if you decide to tell your parents, "No, no, I hate war. Violence only provides temporary relief from hopelessness, and can never be a permanent answer," and tell your friends "War, from time to time refreshes the tree of liberty with the blood of tyrants and of patriots. War gives otherwise broken down old men something important to reminisce on. War is good."

.... That is being a little spineless and hypocritical in my books. 

What are your real opinions? (Do you even have any? :P)

I don't see how your behaviour with every single person in your life has much to do with "being yourself". 

You relate to every single person in a different manner, don't you? You can't possibly treat every single person in your life as cattle trains. Laugh at every joke every person in your life cracks, scream at one as mindlessly as you can at the other. They're all different, they all deserve a relatively unique place in your life. 

So, it's okay to be one person with your friend, and another with your parents.

That's what I believe to be correct. Theoretically, at least, it sounds okay to me.

The question is.

Does that not make you a little schizophrenic in the end? A little confused about who you really are? A tiny bit disillusioned with people, expectations, morality?

When and how do we come to terms with who we really are at the core?

Nietzsche wrote, "The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe."

To Friends.

At the very outset, Happy Friendship Day to whoever is reading this right now!

I may know you very well, or not at all, but at this moment you're reading something written by me rather than doing the million other things you could have been doing instead. 

And that matters to tiny, baby faced me. So,before I write any further, here's a big hug. :)

Yaaaaay,it is the first of August. 213th day of the year.

The one day of the year many gladly fall prey to the enormously successful marketing strategy of Archies and Hallmark, spending mindlessly on colorful friendship bands and cute little photo-frames. And admittedly

,till 4 years back, I was an avid buyer of all of the below. :P

(These are Archies bestselling items,by the way. I took this picture of their website!)

Today is also the day you are bound to receive countless SMSes on your cell-phone that go something like this.

"If CARE is a WAVE,
i give u SEA.
If RESPECT is a LEAF,
i give u TREE.
If TRUST is a PLANET,
i give u GALAXY,
if FRIENDSHIP is LIFE,
i give u MINE 4 FREE..
keep smiling.my dearest frnd."

Do you feel like smiling with gratitude or throwing up at the cheesiness of that? :P

But today, I think of all my friends.

The girl with whom I played with Barbie dolls in first grade in Coimbatore.

The guy who introduced me to Backstreet Boys in sixth grade.

The girl who I sat with on a scary ride at Essel World for the first time, and who hugged me even as I screamed at her.

The guy who calls me Bundo and messes up my hair all the time.

The girl I've had the most horrible fights with and laughed about them all later.

The guy who gave me 2 music CDs as a farewell gift when I left Calcutta.

The girl who I bunked school with to watch a Himesh Reshamiya movie, "first day first show" just for the kicks. 

The guy who gets drenched in the rain to get me a Dairymilk when I'm not feeling so good.

Tangled up in Blue, Srishti, Sankoobaba, Einstein and others- People I've never met, but have become close companions on my blogging journey.

And I thank all of them.

Just for having been a part of my life, exactly the way they have. :)

"Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg’d comrade."

Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3.


I'd like to take that chance to be friends with the "new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade" today.
In case, I don't know you, here, I repost an old blogpost I'd written for you. :)
http://contradictoryexistence.blogspot.com/2010/06/to-stranger.html

My Retro Room!

As promised, here are a few pictures of my new and improved living space. :)

                              What you see the moment you open the door...

The new love of my life. My very own bookshelf!!!

That's the U2 "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" album cover on the top there.
Below that is Eddie Vedder, lead vocalist of Pearl Jam and one of my icons.
And that white guitar you see is being played by Jonsi, lead vocalist of one of my favourite bands, Sigur Ros from Iceland. Notice something awesome? He plays it with the the bow you generally play a violin with!

                  Oh, my awesome Elvis poster I drool over every waking minute!

                        My super duper cool one of a kind Simon and Garfunkel mug!!

Where Murakami, Larsson, McCarthy and Tolstoy come under one roof. And where George Orwell's 1984 is found under a dog's paws.

Do you like it?
I'm absolutely dying to know! :)

Marim-blah.

Okay, (un)fortunately(?), I'm back from my blogging hiatus.

And yes, I shall offer the lame excuse of the internet cord having snapped into two last week. Don't even get me started on that. :/

Last night, the seniors organised a fresher's party for us BBA babies. At a club. A certain club/lounge/dark room filled with sweaty drunken people named Marimba.

Now, before I elaborate on that, keep this in mind. I'm 17. By all conventions, I should be going through some sort of teenage rebellion phase. This is the age I should be dying to try out funky tattoos, black nail-polish, hair streaked electric blue, navel piercings, partying till 4 a.m.,cigarettes, alcohol, drugs etcetera etcetera before rejecting it in 4 years thinking, "Man, those years were wild. But I am a sensible adult now, time to get my act together."

Reality check. I'm experiencing nothing of the sort. I am not even kidding you. Not even a little bit. I think it's stupid. And right as I might be, I feel a little out of place with others my age who are reveling in their new-found freedom, however drug or alcohol induced it might be.

Take last night for example. 

Of course, I was really super-duper excited about the Freshers. Point no. 1 (and probably the only point),it was in a club. I had never been to one. And everyone I know seems to love it, so I figured of course, I'll like it too.
Well, that didn't happen.

Here are my not-so-nice observations on clubs.

1. Clubs are like concerts without that awesome stage act you've been waiting for. So it's dark, crowded, immensely sweaty and reeking of booze. For what? The heck of it.

Soooo cool.

2.You don't talk. Not because you don't want to, but for the simple reason that you can't. it's so abnormally and irritatingly loud. Just dance, drink, drink,  dance. But it gets so crowded, all you can do is rock back and forth before some girl digs her stiletto into your innocent foot. The whole point of the freshers party is to interact with people you've barely known for a week, not watch them puke on the dance floor.

3.If you're wondering whether non-verbal communication is possible, long story short, it's not. Clubs are dark. They're laden with fog machines. Jarring disco lights are sporadically swerving on and off your face. IRRITATING. :/

4.Almost everyone is fake in there. Fake nice. Fake I'm-so-cool-I-have-my-shirt-collar-turned-up. Fake Woah-I'm-having-such-a-fabulous-time. 

Yes, I'm sure that's a pretty lopsided view of the whole affair considering it's based on just a one-time experience. 

So let me now think of clubs as the silver-lining girl I'm purported to be. :P

You get to see people all dressed up and do something more glitzy than they do in real life.

I guess it may be a great way to blow off steam for some. No one's obligated to do something meaningful and productive and profound 100% of their time. Clubs provide mindless fun to a whole bunch of people. 

And I'm sure people don't go to clubs with any expectation of having a half-decent conversation anyway.

But one thing is for sure.

It's not my cup of tea/coffee/ fresh lime soda.

I got out of there in a little over 40 minutes. Yeah, really. :P

P.S. I take this opportunity to thank Kshitij, my best friend, who made the entire club experience something to laugh about and not a crying over- experience.
Also, 4 days too late on this forum, but here's your very public birthday greeting- Happpppppppy Birthday! :)

The Collegiate.

Since I am not a graduate, and it's only my first day at NMIMS, I title this post "The Collegiate". Movie buffs, take a wild guess what I really could have called it instead! :P

Entering the portals of the college you've (somewhat) aspired getting into, trudging up the six floors with crazy anticipation concealed under the garb of  utter aloofness, being ragged FOUR TIMES by seniors (Why why why did they keep picking on me? This is a conspiracy against the short, I tell you. :D ), cold coffee for just ten bucks and politely smiling at people you've never met before and will invariably be (stuck?) with for the next 3 years...Aaah, what a day and a half! :)

Yesterday was our orientation ceremony. The dean and his entourage gave us the standard this-is-a-professional-college-make-the-most-of-it-or-die-trying speech, scaring the living daylights out of some, and slightly unnerving the others. Then certain well spoken second and third year students encouraged us to join student clubs by inspiring speeches, presentations and the like.
The funny part is this.
The very seniors who were dressed in crisp shirts and ties yesterday and were inspiring us to join this club and that, were the ones who blatantly entered our classes today saying, "Oye, you have to belly dance for us". :P

Going off on a tangent, my Financial Accounting teacher, or professor, or whatever I'm supposed to call her now, showed us this presentation where the educational backgrounds of Mukesh Ambani to Ratan Tata to K.V.Kamath were shown.
The bottomline- They all came from a science background but turned out to be mavericks in the field of finance.
The punchline(and I quote)- "Science students have no excuses." :D

God(the one I don't believe in but use often as a literary device to denote exasperation or irritation), I hope college is as interesting and stimulating as people say.
But there are people who say that the Holocaust never happened and that maths is their favourite subject, so I don't really believe people too, come to think of it. But I just hope I have a good time. I'm keeping my expectations suitably low, coz I fear that they might be dashed away in the weeks to come! You know what Edward Koch once said," The fireworks begin today.  Each diploma is a lighted match.  Each one of you is a fuse." I don't want to be a slacker or someone who is the same person 3 years hence, from where I start today. I hope the college experience is a journey of evolution and discovery, as much as one of mid-terms and examinations.

P.S. Being sensitive to my gravity and relying on the renowned female intuition,the three clubs I seem interested in right now are the entrepreneurship cell, literary and marketing. There's also this club called SRF or Social Responsibility Forum, but I would much rather do some social work by myself than do it as forcedly as a college activity.


"It is clear the future holds great opportunities.  It also holds pitfalls.  The trick will be to avoid the pitfalls, seize the opportunities, and get back home by six o'clock".  
~Woody Allen, "My Speech to the Graduates," Side Effects, 1980

Incoherence.

Your Blog Should Be Orange

Your writing has a star quality - it's charming, bold, and flamboyant.
You write what's on your mind, without fear of embarrassment later.
You are one of the most honest bloggers around, and people appreciate your daring persona.

     
Yes, I took a random quiz AGAIN on this site "blogthings.com".
Sad, I know.

On the bright side, I finished The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. FINALLY! The story is too long and complicated for me to write a book review and do justice to it, so don't expect one. All I'll say is that dysfunctional, anorexic, under 5 feet Lisbeth Salander is the most original, intriguing and might I add, the coolest female protagonist in decades!!!

Aaaaaand, I got a new phone. A Nokia E72! :) :) :)
Shit, shit, no more smileys.
But as one of my abnormally tall friends reminded me, "No smileys here, you are a big girl.":P

And this is completely random.
But I've been thinking about it for almost a week now. There isn't a word for "being smiled at". (Is there?) Atleast I haven't found it.
I think there should be, don't you? :)

Btw, I was thinking about the state of Indian advertisements today. I have one word for them. Rubbish.
Neither do they get the shadow of their point across, nor do they make even the slightest sense. At the end of the ad you're left wondering why you didn't go blind and deaf before that torture was inflicted upon you! Like the one where chimpanzees are jumping around in bright red underwear and then the tagline is "Yeh toh bada toing hai". What the hell is THAT all about?
To think so many of these people are IIM graduates. :/
I remember reading this Ayn Rand quote somewhere once, "Money demands that you sell, not your weakness to men's stupidity, but your talent to their reason."
They should chew on that for a while.

Did you know that Albert Einstein was offered the Israeli presidency and he turned it down?
Or that the first recorded account of plastic surgery is in ancient Indian texts?

THIS is what I write about when I feel I am running out of blog ideas. I refuse to put my name at the end of a blank blog post, and I refuse to go on a writing sabbatical as well.

If you have got to the end of this blog post, please suggest ideas on what to gift someone on their 18th birthday! :P

Word out. :D

Paan on Provogue.

Something weird and senselessly funny and absolutely 100% disgusting happened yesterday.
I was going to drop my sister for her dance class. In an auto-rickshaw.
Yes, I still use them despite the hue and cry about increased auto fares coz -
1.You don't need to stand at one place for more than 5 minutes before one stops right in front of you.
2.They are able to wiggle their way through crazy Bombay traffic with ease.
3.The occasional auto might even have a radio and you can hear the latest Bollywood songs at their screeching horrendous best.

But, I digress.
What happened, in a (betel) nutshell, was this. Sana and I were in the moving auto. Less than 30 seconds into our drive, someone just spat paan.
No, not on the street. I'm not saying that would have been the best thing in the civic sense, but it was infinitely preferable to what really happened.

(For those who don't know what paan is, here - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paan
Although, no Wikipedia can tell you what paan really is and tastes like unless you've seen it made in the deepest trenches of this country.)

That chewed up, red paan with its teaspoonful of saliva and semi-chewed betel nuts, found its way onto my new Provogue t-shirt. And my favourite pair of Levis.

"Ugh. Yuck. Yucccccccccccccck. :(
Why??
Who would do something like this?
What the hell?????
Do we live in the land of the uncivilized uncouth insane?"

Of course, I dropped off Sana at her dance class, vented at my best friend and trudged back home for an hour long shower.

I don't get it. This whole paan-spitting thing.
Is this the mighty God of the Betel Nuts avenging my lifelong dislike towards paan? 

I've had it once or twice. It doesn't really taste that bad. But something that requires the consumer to spit a brick-coloured slime and leaves a blackish-red tinge in your mouth, just grosses me out.
Of course, you don't always have to spit it out. Please please please just swallow that paan. Discolor your teeth and not the walls.
Everything in India is covered with paan spit. We're almost acclimatized to its sight on walls and roads and public schools and almost anywhere else.In fact, I've lived in Kolkata too. Paan-spitting is now an intricate art form there. "How far? How much?" etcetera etcetera.

To think Indians generally consider their personal hygiene and neatness a prerequisite for all sacrosanct endeavors and rituals.

Thoo. :P

Anicca.

I'm a big fan of The Beatles, but no, I don't "long for yesterday".
I'm a big fan of Barack Obama, and yes, I long for change.

I'm waiting for college to begin. Something new. Fresh. Exciting.
Yes, I'm sure the novelty will wear off in a month. Still.
It's better than just killing time at home.

I remember making all these plans last year, while I was trying madly to understand Calculus and never did.
I will go here with my friends after my Board exams, I will go there, I will go everywhere.
When was the last time we all met as a group?
At a not-so-interesting birthday party.
We've all sort of lost touch with what's happening in each other's lives. Yes, the occasional "What's up?" message is sent and duly replied to, but that's barely a shadow of what our crazy high-school years were. Did I not make the right friends? Did I not make the requisite effort that goes into maintaining a friendship? Didn't they? Did I change? Did they?

Makes me wonder on the finiteness and impermanence of everything. Be it the quantity of food on your plate, friendships, or even life.
I'm not religious or spiritual myself, but I like what the Buddhists say about impermanence. They call the concept Anicca, which says that "impermanence is an undeniable and inescapable fact of human existence from which nothing that belongs to the earth is ever free."

I've studied Biology till tenth grade. I know enough about cell division to know that it takes place continuously in our bodies. Old cells die, new are born.
Seeds turn into plants, plants turn into trees.
Water turns to vapour.
Science is on my side too(for once!). Of course, change is inevitable.
It would be a lie to say that you love or hate something in exactly the same way, for exactly the same reasons, all your life.

I enjoy the finiteness of things.
It leaves the possibility for something new.

P.S.The only realm where I cherish infinite-ness, is when experts debate about the origin of the universe. Knowing that it really is infinite, would be kinda cool. :)



"That's it! You people have stood in my way long enough. I'm going to clown college!"
-Homer Simpson. 
:D

10 things I love.

1.Mentally stimulating conversation, peppered with wit and humour.

2.Those 2 year old jeans I refuse to give up coz they fit so right. Levis rules! :)

3.Hershey's Dark Chocolate.
  Lindt dark chocolate is a close runner up, along with Bournville.

4.Twinings' Green tea with lemon. I love the delicate taste of it. And it has all these antioxidants which will keep me looking young. I'm 17, so of course I'm worried about wrinkles. :D

5. Black and white photographs. I'm just fascinated by black and white anything, photographs, paintings, album covers, zebras, you name it!

6. I absolutely love nice inscriptions on the first pages of a book. Inscriptions are always a nice gesture.:)

7. I watched the Woody Allen classic, Annie Hall today and fell in love with it, head over heels. La-dee-dah!
"Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's, yes I have to invent, of course I - I do, don't you think I do?"

8. The prospect of the world ending in 2012. Haha, really. Be it coz of some defect in the CERN particle accelerator, the Chinese Book of Changes predictions coming true or the Yellowstone volcano blowing up. That gives me just one and a half more years of life. To laugh or not to laugh at the minuscule possibilities of the above. :P

9.A mug of freshly brewed, properly ground and properly brewed coffee and I have attained nirvana.

10. A book that doesn't lose its way. That keeps me hooked beginning, middle and end. A book that doesn't make me want to keep it down, even for a second. A book that makes me ignore my mom's tenth call to eat dinner. That kinda book.

Prejudice.

The meaning of "Prejudice" in Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary.

"Pronunciation: \ˈpre-jə-dəs\

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin praejudicium previous judgment, damage, from prae- + judicium judgment

Date: 13th century

2 a (1) :preconceived judgment or opinion (2) : an adverse opinion or leaning formed without just grounds or before sufficient knowledge b : an instance of such judgment or opinion c : an irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics"

The first time I encountered the word was, with great enthusiasm, in the Jane Austen classic.
And it is a word I don't like associated with my general outlook on life. Purely because it categories my beliefs and interests, and stunts my already-challenged growth. Ian Smith is prejudiced, Theodore G. Bilbo is prejudiced. Not me. Calling me that automatically makes me narrow minded, short-sighted, ignorant, hypocritical, cynical and someone with an illiberal world view.

So I don't enjoy science fiction. Or action flicks. Or Bollywood comedies. Or game zones in shopping malls. Or tomatoes.
These aren't my predujices. These are my conscious choices. I understand how some people love all of the above, and will fight till they die on how it all makes perfect sense in their world.
I'm happy for them. More than happy. Not too many things in the world entertain, or make sense, anyway.
That doesn't mean the same things have to hold my attention span for that much time.

I'm not condescending by nature. Hardly even sarcastic.
And I am not too 'busy' with my prejudices to understand the brilliance of science fiction.
So, dont say that next time.

Memory Chaser.

It's strange, what memory keeps and ruefully discards.
For example, I don't remember the time the top of my head didn't even reach the desk, or the time when I was on my toes craning to reach the doorbell and falling short.
And a lot of childhood memories that I do have, are derived from snapshots taken back then. Moments frozen beautifully in an innocent time, when if I fell down I could cry and scream, without looking around to see if anyone noticed.When I could apply shoe-polish on my face like cold cream. When chocolate could sinfully drip down my chin and people would say "How cute!" instead of "What a slob!" When "Eenie meenie miney mo" was the way to go when asked if the reasons for the economic slowdown were excessive liquidity, cheap credit or institutional deficiencies.

My episodic memory, is primarily made up of photographs, or certain startling moments, be it happy or sad, of certain words spoken, looks and tones. However, entire years have been blocked out of memory, almost as if they never happened.
For example- The school where I studied in IIIrd grade, St.Mary's School,Pune. Now, I remember just one school-life incident there. The day after tiny little me shook hands and took the autograph of Mr.Amitabh Bachchan, my headmistress(a super-duper Big B fan) asked me to give her that autographed sheet and I flatly refused! And I faintly remember studying about Helen of Troy and having to make as many words as I could from "Constantinople"! But strangely, I don't remember a single teacher, or friend I made while I was there.
I write this because a few months ago a girl from my IIIrd grade classroom reconnected with me saying she was my best friend there, and I didn't have the slightest memory of her! :O

I first felt guilty, and of course, it was an extremely awkward situation to be in, for all parties involved. But after I passed that nascent stage of "denial", I was very fascinated by the entire episode. ("Acceptance" :P)
I realised that a moment can mean a thousand different things. Indelible impressions can be left on people and places(graffiti!). And I suddenly understood the innate depth of a memory.

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
~T.S. Eliot
I know I can't stop time. I can't capture light.
But I know I would love to delve deeper into my treasure chest of memories. In search of answers, however profound or silly.
Yes, I am staring at an abyss. Now will the abyss please stare back at me, Nietzsche?

Lessons Learned Backwards.

"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories; They're all that's left you"

 I miss school life all of a sudden. Some weird withdrawal syndrome on leaving or something. I miss the people (even those I hated and laughed about and didn't really know), I miss the teachers (okay, that is just a lie in the guise of sentiment) and I miss the stupid staircase I had to climb up 4 floors of every morning (the biggest lie of them all).

These last 2 years, I learned a lot about people and the rules that apply in friendship.

And this is what I've come out with, after my high school craziness.

>That succumbing to peer pressure is just not worth the hassle, short term, and definitely not long term. No, you don't need a tattoo because 3 others got one, you'll still live if you don't have high-top Converse shoes, and it's okay to not be able to afford a 90 bucks coffee every day.

>I realized that the friendships I am most secure about today are those that have endured distance, prolonged silences, insane fights and simple, but long-standing misunderstandings. Sometimes just a text-message, or an old insider joke is enough to dissolve all differences. But you should be ready to put in a lot of heart into each friendship. Every person counts. Specially, in that inner circle.

> There are people I am more than happy to have out of my system, now that school and all the associated drama is over. Me being me, I look for a happy ending to all stories, but I also know that it is statistically impossible for me to please every person. And vice versa. I've made my peace with this fact. I'm happy in my space, and wish them happiness in theirs. No more.

>I feel extremely lucky I've met people who can tell me I'm fat, judgmental, bitchy, a midget, stupid and childish. My best friends. :)

>First impressions, surprisingly are sometimes,the most accurate impressions. You may know someone for the longest time, yet never really know them. I learned the not-so-nice way that people can disappoint, irritate, provoke and disgust you to the point of no return. And that my first instinct on meeting them was "Stay Awaaaaaay!".

>Sometimes, it's okay not to listen to the "friendly" advice given to you. In fact, that goes for most times. Credit yourself with more brains, than to mindlessly give in to others' opinions of you.

>Stories aren't coins. Of course, there are more than two sides to every story. Every person's unique way of spinning it, with their own dramatization and exaggerations. That may make you cry when you're in the middle of it sitting confused, but will also make you laugh at your blindness later. Rumors and gossip are only fun for a little while, that too when they're aimed at someone else. You forget you're hurting someone with your acerbic laughter.

>I suddenly realized how genuinely happy I sometimes am, when people beat all odds and people's sky-high expectations from them. Other times, I'm just shocked out of my chair and wish "Goddamnit, if he/she could do it, why not me?" Just being honest. :P

>The measure of a person's intelligence is not by his/her percentage in their school examinations. It's a measure of their hard work, consistency and tenacity at best. Intelligence can't really be quantified. And definitely not in the Indian education system, a temple of rote-learning and who-cares-if-you-really-understand-just-go-get-the-high-marks school of teaching.

>Having muscles, or money, or word-power, does not give you the right to think you are better than the next person. It's high time to get off that high pedestal you think you deserve, and it's time we stop putting you on one.

>When in doubt if you'll make it through high school, take inspiration from the Hogwarts school song-

"Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."

Bridges have been burned, pages have been turned.

Lessons have been learned. :)