Savoy truffle.

The thought of walking into my kitchen and finding THIS-

OR this-




makes me delirious.

And while we're on the topic, I made dinner day before yesterday, and it was actually edible. More on that later.

Does anyone else feel hungry on listening to Savoy Truffle?! Sieg Heil to The Beatles.

The Joker

I am your truth. I live with fiery spirit, with a kind of intensity you can never dream of. How I flit through your insignificant life, untouchable. Distant. Frozen to contact. I just might accept you as a rival, but that will only be when I am at my weakest. And that will be my secret.

I know what you think, I know what you’re worth. I can see into your core, for I have lost mine. It’s easy to, for you’re vulnerable. Open to scrutiny, cracked, broken. Your recurring memories can break your spirit, cloud what you are, how can you be anything but easy to perceive?

A word of uncertainty from a voice insignificant is all it takes. You’re over. At my most human, you call me cruel. How can you deny me my amusement, my respite from what I think you are: unadulterated boredom.

I search for the wall that defies me, until then, I shall toy with you. Play along, for I might just escalate into a juggernaut that builds and builds with every slur I face.

I delight in your helplessness. The deluge is inescapable, learn to laugh. Look at the world around, this ordered mess. How many times do you feel thankful because it wasn’t you this time? Happy that it was that family halfway around the globe? The girl in the TV screen? Let it show, the world won’t love you any less for it. They’re all the same.

Under your veneer of virtuosity, I know what you are. I bite you when you’re cold, singe you when you burn. I pick at your scabs, I knock down your reading lamp. Believe it or not, its actually all you.

You cannot fight me, I will always be. Try it, social experiments always serve to fascinate. Pick up the knife, tease the grey blade into exploring your marrow. Until your insides throb. Malign your blood, try, for however it blots and clots, it holds together a race; but that is inconsequential to you and me.

I am why you feel. I am chaos. I am you.

__________________

By no stretch of imagination are these my thoughts. Forgive me if this is disturbing.
Listen to Vicarious and Sad but True over and over again. Read Sylvia Plath and look up Munchausens Syndrome by Proxy and MPD. Watch the season 5 finale of House MD. You can't not question identity then.

Okay I'm off to make pizza on those little bases you get at Nilgiris.

I doubt, therefore I may be?

I've had absolutely no motivation to blog over the last few weeks. Its not like I'm all that busy or anything, I haven't thought of ANYthing worth writing about.

So many people around me live in the moment, all it takes to make them happy is a high grade in a test, or a compliment from a teacher. Why I have to complicate things by thinking of the purpose of life and all that jazz is something I truly cannot comprehend.

This summer, I thought. Most of us lead our lives in ways that are EXPECTED of us, we do things because our parents push us to or because its what the world does. Without this external propulsion, I'm positive a fair portion of us would be lost, or atleast I would.

So I asked the people around me, if they didn't have these social expectations, if time, money and status weren't issues, what would they do? What would they be TRULY happy doing?

Daddy said he'd buy every music CD ever recorded and listen to music all day. Amma said she'd spend all her time with her parents and their friends. I said I'd travel (subject to change.). Apoorvaa said she didn't know. My cousin Sowmya said she'd fly first class and be a doctor and an architect. Rekha Aunty and Srini Mama both said they'd write and read all they could.

But the cycle does prevail, our dreams hardly ever can escape studyworkmarriage. Competitiveness and being judgemental never really can escape our lives. I should know, enough people give me the sympathetic head-tilt when I say I'm a Commerce student (I've made my peace with that by the way, enough people have ALSO told me to let it pass).

I wish I didn't have to live with public opinion hounding me wherever I went. I wish I was fully capable of tuning public opinion out, of being able to live life Roark-style. I wish the world wasn't this cut-throat, I wish it wasn't always about the cut-off. I wish I'll be able to look back on my life someday and have no regrets. Isn't that what we all live for? Or are we too caught up in following other people's lives to notice our own?

I'm not entitled to all these dark opinions, I'm 16, I haven't even seen the world yet. I just think that there's more to life than a huge number on your marksheets or on your paycheck.

Its not very easy to sift through all these streams of thought in my head, sigh. Forgive me for being overtly sad and possibly wrong here.

Otherwise, I've been playing volleyball, among other things, for the first time in my life. Its highly gratifying to graze my knees, or see my forearms glow red after a reasonably good game I must say. I feel very sportswomanlike. My tan lines rock :D.

HOW true.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fwje82kzY6s&feature=related

Story of my life. :)

Lev Yilmaz is amazing, siiiigh.

Please tell me..

1) You know how sometimes there are these songs? That sum up what you're feeling SO perfectly, that you marvel at how accurately they put it? And stuff like 'I go out of my way to step on a crunchy leaf' or cheesy emo pon and zi cartoons?

How does it make you feel, the fact there are other people who feel the exact same way you do? Does it comfort you, knowing you have company? Or do you find it unnerving, the thought that you aren't so unique after all?

2) Would you choose to be happy for a short period of time, even if you knew it would make you miserable later on?

3) Chocolate/cheese?

I'd love to know.

All apologies.

I think I'm back.

Firstly, sorry for being such a negligent blogger. Also for cruelly ignoring all of your tags (if any) and choosing to fatten myself with Lay's and Chips Ahoy instead of venting on my blog. ALSO for being a grouch the past couple of weeks, thanks to the stupid stupid results.

I had a decent summer. Not the summer I'd envisioned to be honest (now THAT summer involved a lot of cheese and chocolate and me miraculously getting all fit and meeting a hot guy who'd take me sailing in the Mediterranean with my parents' blessing.), but still. A summer of lazing around all day with no guilt. A summer of repeated eating and staring at some screen, be it the computer's, my phone's, my ipod's or the tv's. A summer of lethargy, of complete uselessness.

After a point, it did get kind of annoying. Sitting home while there were people out there making a difference.

Ok, maybe all *I* was feeling then was total boredom, but honestly, there's only so much of vettiness one can take.

Anyhoo, to those of you who don't know, English and Social screwed me over these boards and left me with a 93%. I'm over it. AND I switched schools to GD, to the commerce group. More on that later, there's much to be said there.

Currently humming- All Apologies.

I elaborate.

The reason I think Thaalis and other forms of marriage-jewellery are unnecessary for women is not because I find tradition redundant or Indian customs stupid.

Basically, a thaali represents the fact that a woman is married, it announces to the world that she's taken, so don't try anything funny. But if you think about it, its not like a woman is ONLY someone's wife once she's married, she's still a friend, a daughter, a sister, a granddaughter. None of these other relationships require anything like a sign on your forehead to show the world. They don't NEED badges, why this?

Also, I'm reminded of a conversation I had with my mom and Poongodi, our hired help. On a whim, I asked my mom why the wife had to proclaim her marital status to the world while the guy didn't really have anything that did the same?
Amma said it was a sign of security for a woman, and more than its actual place in the scriptures, it symbolizes that a woman is married and that she means something to someone.
I don't mean to sound vehemently feministic again, but why doesn't the Indian male do the same? A commitment bracelet or a wedding ring doesn't sound too bad does it?
Poongodi said that's how things were, 'onnum maaraadhu ma'.

Otherwise, I don't have anything against anything. :)

PS- Shyam, a friend of mine, blogs at http://avidthinkerprolificquestioner.blogspot.com/. He writes yamaaazing poetry and pretty darn awesome pieces of prose too. He wondered why I was against jewellery as a symbol of commitment and hence, this post. :)

The voice inside my head.

Most people I know label me a feminist (I prefer pro-feminist, thank you very much). I have pretty decided views on women and what they have to offer the world. I am against the cult of patriarchy, ethnic cleansing targeted at women alone and all other forms of sexism.

I know for sure that I will remain secure and independent regardless of the presence of a man in my life. I know that I'll never fast for a man's possible gain, or announce my marital status to the world through a piece of jewellery (Karvachauth and the Thaali/Metti I mean). I know that I will keep my name for as long as I live, and not have it usurped by any other, also that I will have a life apart from whoever I'm with.

If you choose to call this militant feminism or anti-traditionalist, fine by me.

But of late, I've been listening to my friends rant on about their mutual infatuations (or maybe more) and I wonder. What would it be like to actually be on the receiving end of some good old-world chivalry? The kind we read about and roll our eyes at? Like say, having doors opened for you? Getting a bunch of flowers before dinner? Offering to pay whether or not I let you?

I know this completely blows my other argument, but is it wrong to be surprised once in a while? I AM perfectly capable of opening doors, paying bills et al.

But still. Sometimes I wonder.

Is that wrong?

In other news, I'd like to know. Does anyone stop to think before labelling other people a 'slut' or 'bitch'? Its so easy to point fingers, no?

I feel achingly lonely. Which probably explains why this post is all sad-sad. Anyhoo, it'll stop making sense to me in no time, as soon as my mood swings up again. :)

Don't mind me.

Another day, another tag :D

DIRECTIONS:
- Go to Google image search.
- Type in your answer to each question.
- Choose a picture
- Use this website (http://bighugelabs.com/flickr/mosaic.php) to make your collage.
- Save the image for use in this note.
- Post and tag

QUESTIONS:
1. What is your name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What is your hometown?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. What is your favorite movie?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What is one word to describe yourself?
10. How are you feeling right now?
11. What do you love most in the world?
12. What do you want to be when you grow up?



yeah, google me and see :D

They were there for me.

All through the times when I felt alone. When I wanted nothing but company. And unlimited mud souffle. And some Meg Cabot/Tagore. And all those people from Dubai and Pune and Bangalore and Chennai and Vermillion and Cupertino to come back and talk to me.

They were there. And how.

A good 20 minutes could always turn my day around. And also make me realize HOW out of my league Matthew Perry is. Also how unattainable Courteney Cox would be, if I were a guy of course.

Thought. I haven't had a good conversation in such a long time. How very saddening.

If you're happy and you know it..

Chennai is one of my most favourite cities in the world. I’m a small-town girl at heart I guess, and I can rave over the mountains and the trees as much as the next person. But Chennai rocks my socks. Every single time.

Its something in the air. The humidity is oppressive, the lingering scent of sweat in the air suffocates you, the sheer multitude of people can be pretty scary (to my mom atleast), but without all that it just wouldn’t BE Chennai.

We went to Ranganathan Street today, me, my mom and my 10 year old sister. My mom and my sister are the kind who love staying indoors, real far-from-the-madding-crowd types. But my dad and I are a little more adventurous, atleast if you consider my family alone. So from the dredges of my 5th std memories I summoned up the location of West Mambalam station and the way back to Nanganallur. :D (which is an accomplishment! Amma wanted to wait for the car.)

Ranganathan Street is, to say the least, overwhelming. The onrushing throng of people, the dominance of Saravana and all his Stores, Chocobar wrappers lying on the ground, stomped flat, tailoring offers coming from men with earnest, sweaty brows, little kids clutching their parents’ sleeves like lifelines, intensely coloured salwars clashing with their kurtas, all up for display. You look at all those people, on their own ways, doing their own stuff, with problems of their own, ostensibly not worried about whether they’re wearing Abercrombie&Fitch, whether the other people on the road notice them, whether they got tickets to that movie they wanted to watch, so on and so forth, and you feel humbled. And once again, I’m reminded in strange ways of how distinctive people actually are in themselves, and their total impact on the lives of people around them. Ok, random.

Anyway, from Palavanthangal Amma was just telling me about how Dad took her in a cycle rickshaw once immediately after their wedding, and I asked her why we couldn’t do it now, and so we did. :D The rickshaw puller said it ran on a motor and so there was no harm done to him. It was a first for me, and I enjoyed it. I took a picture of him once we got to Athey’s place, and he was simply thrilled.

It was a good day. I’m happy.

In other news, I bought a pirated copy of Paths of Glory and Love Story in Pondy Bazaar. I was tempted to buy Letters to the Penthouse, but then ultimately didn’t.

Half tag.

Ten things you wish you could say to people right now (names withheld)

1) All I want is for you to be proud of me. I haven’t been what you want me to be, but I’d do anything to ensure that you’re proud of me. I’m so thankful for you.
2) Can’t you think for yourself for ONCE? Why are you afraid of the idea of having your own opinion?
3) I’m not angry/over-reacting. That’s the way my voice is. And please don’t read too much into what I say, I’m not putting you down the way you think I am.
4) Go buy me chocolate. And also. Stop lying, we do NOT have a divorced aunt who’s a fashion designer interning under Satya Paul OR a brother at a boarding school in Kolkata. I love you though.
5) I care for you the mostest, and I’m extremely glad you are what you are to me. You make me happy when skies are grey. You know I couldn’t get on without you in my life. I can’t put what we have into words, because that would be oversimplification at its craziest. Tu hai toh I’ll be alright :D
6) For the last time, you’re great company, I genuinely like talking to you. And I’d call you if I could.
7) Take us out for dinner no? I’ll clean my room tomorrow, for SURE.
8) Why did you have to leave? It’s a strange kind of disconnect, this. But I love the feeling I get when you’re here, it’s always like you never left.
9) Now that I realized that everything you said was completely meaningless, would you mind telling me why you did in the first place? Being around you is a supreme mindfuck for me. Still. You made me question my own worth, and that’s something I can never forgive you for. I STILL feel useless sometimes, thanks to your self-induced martyrdom and everything it brought.
10) I do respect you, but please, please drop the general obnoxiousness and that know-it-all air. How insecure do you have to be to come up with THAT as a defence mechanism? Your coldness scares the shit out of me, all the other little people might not be in your intellectual league, but do try not to be as unnecessarily sharp.

Nine Things About Yourself

1) I am a dreamer. And I can be very embarrassing to be around sometimes, thanks to my total stupidity.
2) Light matters a lot to me. I can’t stay in rooms which are darkish with no sunlight, no matter how beautiful they are.
3) I’m a compulsive worrier, and I manage to successfully ruin things for myself that way.
4) I want to live everywhere! I physically crave living in Paris, NY and Kolkata.
5) Books are my cocaine. I often re-read books and re-watch movies, and choose to do so sometimes even when new books and movies are at hand.
6) I have lots of people in my life, but very few I need to talk to everyday. My parents, Harith and Vidyuth are definitely among them.
7) I love the idea of becoming a diplomat/therapist/anything having to do with people because dynamics and relationships excite me. Anthropology and Politics are so interesting because you get to know about the impacts of actions/non-actions. And I love the idea of individuals having such an influence.
8) I have the most amazing family in the world, and differences apart, I’d be lost without them.
9) I have these randomly devised theories about life and faith and the universe and human nature and after that, everything that happens either modifies or reinforces those theories in my head.

Eight Ways To Win Your Heart

1) Be yourself.
2) Play hard to get.
3) Say something that makes me think/laugh and you’re there.
4) Listen hard and show me you care.
5) Be generous with hugs.
6) Do something insaaaane, just for me.
7) Give me my space, because I’m definitely one to give you yours.
8) Don’t play girl-games or keep me hanging, I can’t pursue anything without clear encouragement.

Five Things You Want To Do Before You Die

1) Experience Harvard. Meet John Nash and JK Rowling.
2) Hitchhike across Europe. Go bungee jumping and snorkeling in Australia.
3) Work for NatGeo. Start a restaurant. Speak for India at the UN. Work for communal harmony.
4) Fall in passionate, incomprehensible, insane love. Lose my head and do crazy things, all in the name of some guy I know I can’t live without.
5) Get 4 dogs, name them Shilo, Layla, Uzi and Pig.

I was bored. Not enough to do the whole thing though.

Her Morning Elegance.

Exams are finally over, and I'm freeee in ever sense of the word.
I got my phone back, and I can tell you nothing has made me as happy as the smell of my phone in a very long time. Yeah, my olfactory tendencies sort of work overtime, sorry about that. My phone smells like.. home.

Other things I absolutely LOVE about being on vacation include not having to compulsively sort my books out, not having to colour code my files so I won't lose them, not having to fold my bedsheets in a hurry, I now have ALLL the time in the world to do them. :)

Also I get to wake up at 9 o'clock and sit like one diseased (glassy eyed, messy headed, like that) till Amma is forced to strip me and push me to shower.

I've been watching House MD, which has to be the MOST MAGNIFICENT series ever made. Currently on 118. That bitch Vogler. In other news, I've been eating out every day, the wake-up-early-and-work-out idea isn't working out at all. I watched Ayan, which I did enjoy, and I'm watching Ananda Thandavam this afternoon.

Going to Chennai tomorrow, yay, and Bangalore a couple of weeks later. I'm actually missing school right now, and some purpose these holidays would be divine. Oo, read Love Story by Erich Segal, which I thought was better that A Walk to Remember on some level, but is actually the same story in essence, except JennyOfLoveStory has none of JamieOfAWalkToRmmr's hoiler-than-thou-ness. Also read Ice Station, which did not live up to my expectations, but was a decent read overall.

Will start A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry today.

Hmm. Just a thought. How much of vetti-sitting and sleeping with no plan can someone take? Summer used to be my favourite time of the year, but I feel wasted sitting around like this. Maybe I should learn to cook. Now there's a thought. :)

Its a Wonderful Life

This is something I wrote last year or thereabouts, so excuse the possible naivete.

I feel incredibly blessed to born in a country where I can say all I want without fear of my hands being chopped off, where I can listen to music and hum to myself without the fear of being stoned, where I can talk to people and hold my own without having to depend on a male to help me find my footing, where I can grow well into my 20's without the possibility of being forcibly married off to an old lech, where I can take my life where I want to without having to answer to anybody.

I feel extremely fortunate to be born in a family, to two parents who love each other, who support me in everything I do, who let me speak my mind, who have always wanted me to hold on to my convictions and hold my head high. Who have believed in letting me take my own decisions, who have given me immense freedom, freedom to the extent of being almost entirely hands-off. Who have loved me for what I am, who talk to me about everything under the sun, who have held their silence even when they thought I was a devil child thanks to my anti-idol worship rants so many times in the past.

I am thankful to be alive in a time where I don't have to look for a 'women's job' if I want to work, where I don't have to be a suffragette if I want basic rights for myself, where I don't have to be lectured on being a better woman if a man hurts me in any way, where I can actually get paid as much as a man for the same job, where I can go to college without having to drop out to get married, where I can see myself as a human being whose existence is not dictated by whose daughter I am or who I am with.

There are places today where women do not even get proper healthcare, sanitation or the basic courtesies most of us are so used to. There are men who cling on to their brutal mysoginistic beliefs and oppress the women in their lives, just because they are. There are women who submit to the endless putting down and don't bother standing up to it. This might be the wrong time to say this, in the wake of the attack of women in pubs.

But despite all that, I think its a great time to be alive.
Women are empowered, they know what they want, they go all out and get it. Put them in a mould and they'll break out of it. Try fitting them in a frame and they'll scoff at you. They've been there, done that, probably better than you. They love their freedom with an intensity born out of every form of suppression they've had to face in the past. They nurture, they care, they get things done. They find their footing, fall down, learn from their mistakes. They learn, trust, lend a helping hand. They revel in their education, they stand up to atrocities, they make up for physical weakness with steely emotional strength. This is generalizing at its worst, I know, but I live with the faith that a couple of decades down the line, equality will be so real you can reach out and touch it. It also helps that few men today are chauvinists. Again I'm generalizing, but its good to know that most males actually value the women in their lives and aren't afraid to let them know it, male reticence be damned.



Things are changing for the better, and that makes me feel good about the world around.

To all women. Happy women's day.

Why Slumdog works.

NOTE- Daddy, this will be my LAST post for the next two months. Rest of you, leave in your good wishes and stuff for my boards. I'm going to need it!

This comes 2 days after the Oscars and since everyone's been talking about whether or not Slumdog Millionaire deserves the 8 Oscars, I thought I'd have my say as well.

Why it worked everywhere. I think the world embraced the movie because it fit everybody's perception of what India's all about. I mean, song and dance? Check. Slums and communal violence? Check. Call centres, brothels, crowds? Check. Maybe it does seem like Danny Boyle concentrated everything India's ashamed of and put it into a movie. Maybe it is something un-Indian claiming to be Indian. At the risk of sounding unpatriotic, whatever said and done, however exaggerated it may be, the movie only showcased the existing downside of the country. Don't get me wrong, India is so much more than all this. Poverty and corruption ISN'T what India's all about. But still, I think we all have to remember that ultimately this is a work of fiction. NOT a documentary on India and everything it stands for. The same thing goes for Aravind Adiga's The White Tiger. He had it all, the cynical, unapologetic style. The unrepentant protagonist unafraid to strip his country's seeming sheen away from everything it was proud of. India's naked Darkness. And it won the Booker.

Ultimately, with all the political incorrectness taken away, Slumdog the movie is a celebration of love, fate and spirit. Its a hundred coincidences put together in the name of destiny, and at the end, you feel good. Its about a guy you might bump into everyday in the streets, getting what he wants despite the odds. Maybe it isn't typical cinematic finesse. Maybe its predictable and corny. Maybe it isn't as dark as the movies today are. Maybe it doesn't deserve the Best Picture Oscar in itself. But with a practically unknown cast, a low budget and an utterly forseeable narrative, what its managed to do is commendable, according to me.

And one of the things it HAS managed to do is bring Indian talent to the fore. AR Rahman's genius goes way beyond Jai Ho and the rest of the soundtrack. But thanks to this, the world can now revel in everything he's capable of. International acclaim is what it takes for us to sit up and notice unsung heroes. Resul Pookutty, prime example. It took an Academy nomination for the everyday Indian to know who he was. Slumdog did its part in putting Indian talent on the map, even though in the process it might have showed the country in not exactly all its glory. It gives two slum children a shot at a life without the penury they faced until now. And in the process, it reiterates that slumdogs can indeed go far.

I'm not entitled to comment on whether or not it deserved the Best Picture Oscar, seeing how I haven't watched the rest of the movies nominated. And I do agree that there was way too much hype shrouding the movie for an honest appraisal of it. And that the awards that came its way were mostly because of its exotic appeal. Nevertheless, Slumdog Millionaire is a movie that should be watched and enjoyed for its creative appeal and its feel good factor. Hey, there's a reason we all love fairytales!

Disgusting

I found this on Ani's blog.

YouTube - crazy racist family @ Tyra Banks show

I'm absolutely sickened. I feel ashamed of the fact that I live in an age where people like this still exist, and where they inflict their views on their children as well. How pathetic can we get?

Don't say anything.

This is a list of women who I think are too pretty to live.

1) SCARLETT JOHANSSON! That face. Enough said.

2) Bipasha Basu. WHY is she so.. chiselled? And HOW do John and her manage to look so damn perfect?

3) Priyanka Chopra. -grins like crazy-

4) Rachel Bilson. She makes me want to adopt her and feed her icecreams for the rest of her life. And coo over her when she pouts because the icecream melted. Ok please tell me she isn't getting married to Hayden Christensen? I thought Adam Brody was the One!

5) Natalie Portman. Gaminesque perfection.

6) Jessica Alba. You can stare at her for ages and not want to be anywhere else for a long long time. Sigh.

7) Penelope Cruz. I don't really get this woman. She looks SO pretty sometimes, she doesn't even look human. I could say the same for Nicole Kidman! Maybe all women turn alien-like when they get together with Tom and his scientology crew.

8) Monica Belluci. Blame my fascination with Italy.

9) Padma Lakshmi. She cooks, she had an intellectual older man, she exudes SUCH endearing imperfection, what with that scar and all.

10) Jyothika. She HAD to be here! :)

The rest- Kate Winslet, Mary Elizabeth Winstead (still semi-celebrity, she should fix that soon. Sky High, baby? Not a good pick.), Sonam Kapoor, MEG RYAN, Shriya Saran, Laura Elena Harring (MY god.). I can't think of the rest.

Okay if this was weird, forgive me, I just have an eye for the aesthetically appealing. :D

The Oscars are barely a day away and I'll be home to watch it! I can't believe I'm this excited, but hey you can't blame me, its like Super Bowl Weekend+Cricket World Cup+SomeBigGig.

I predict..
Best Picture- Slumdog (Yes I know Milk should win, but that's what the Academy does)
Best Director- Danny Boyle (Surprise surprise)
Best Actor- Sean Penn (So I hear)
Best Actress- Anne Hathaway? Rachel Getting Married was supposed to be KICKass. I went and read the synopsis of The Reader on wiki though, so its probably Kate Winslet.
Best Supporting Actor- HEATH LEDGER (duh?)
Best Supporting Actress- Amy Adams :P
Art Direction and Costume Design and possibly Cinematography- Benjamin Button. No questions asked. Though I haven't watched it.
Animated film- Wall-E!
Music, Song- Slumdog, Jai ho.

Wait and watch I shall.

I need..

- chocolate ice cream
- some company
- more time
- a reality check
- to watch a movie or two. Mulholland Drive anyone?
- a box of Bradman's
- self-actualization?
- Janani :(
- those construction workers across the street to STOP LISTENING TO SURYAN FM!
- some Pablo Neruda (Sonnet XI, my god. Its so passionate, its obscene)
- to learn Spanish so I can, in fact, read and understand Pablo Neruda.

Model Practicals tomorrow.
Pip-pip.

I watched Dharm today. I cried.



We talk of being united in the face of diversity. We talk of being a nation of a thousand languages and myriad cultures. WHERE does the crying need for communal violence come in here at all? We're taught in school (even this year) that India is the land of unity in diversity. Fullstop. Why aren't we taught about caste differences and how they tear the secular fabric of a nation apart? Why aren't we told about partition and what it cost everyone? Why aren't we taught that reverse discrimination is wrong too? Why aren't we bothered about Kandhamal and everywhere else there's religious strife? What does it COST perpetrators to just live and let live?! I don't even KNOW what a secular nation means anymore, the idea of it is so abstract that I honestly canNOT imagine. Are instances of violence in the name of religion individual or institutional? How can the majority of today's youth even believe in the democratic fibre of a nation, when religious freedom has been prised away from Gujarat, Orissa, Bombay and so many other places so many times in the past? Especially when they find themselves cynically unable to acknowledge the existence of a God, a religion, and whatever it may stand for?

Face it, across socio-economic barriers, lots of people cannot help but see things through the veil of language religion caste subcaste and every other micro obligation. I don't see the point anymore. What is left for people to believe in? Is this what the beliefs of a gazillion people say? This knowledge, that something so many people in the past have clung on to as the driving force in their lives is actually the cause for such desolation, is supremely disconcerting. I don't know.

May good sense prevail.

Musings.

I'm stuck for words more often than usual. Thought of writing poetry (-snort-), but then so many things evade rhymes, they're stuck there in my head. Where the rest of the things unsaid go. In those awkward spaces between laughter, in the hesitation between those reluctant syllables. There are things that deserve so much mention and yet, STAY there, giving me a head cold.

This didn't make much sense to me either. The Purpose should stare at me in the face wearing nothing but Dobby's tea cozy and I'll feel much better.

Tomorrow, I should work. Really work, I mean. I distinctly lack drive, so a good shake and peptalks are welcome.

Five minutes later

I somehow found myself looking up It Happened One Night quotes on IMDb, and my face just melted into this giant grin. Total mush ya.

Alexander Andrews: Oh, er, do you mind if I ask you a question, frankly? Do you love my daughter?

Peter Warne: Any guy that'd fall in love with your daughter ought to have his head examined.

Alexander Andrews: Now that's an evasion!

Peter Warne: She picked herself a perfect running mate - King Westley - the pill of the century! What she needs is a guy that'd take a sock at her once a day, whether it's coming to her or not. If you had half the brains you're supposed to have, you'd done it yourself, long ago.

Alexander Andrews: Do you love her?

Peter Warne: A normal human being couldn't live under the same roof with her without going nutty! She's my idea of nothing!

Alexander Andrews: I asked you a simple question! Do you love her?

Peter Warne: YES! But don't hold that against me, I'm a little screwy myself!

This is one of my most pointless posts. I promise the ones to follow will be worth wasting your time on. Heh?

But really, who knows, someday I will actually sound like a poem. Or a song. And realise that life isn't about worrying about where you're going, because it just hit me that if/when I do get there, I wouldn't know what to do next. Its ultimately all about the little things that make you smile. I will live like a song in my head.

Thalai sutthing, very much.

Happenings.

The boards are a month and 4 days away, and this means goodbye phone, goodbye internet, goodbye possible time-wasters.

Its been 2 days since I switched my phone off, and I miss it like you couldn't imagine. A heartfelt post on how much I miss it and why it means so much to me will follow, but its schooltime now, and our 2nd revision marks are coming out.

And Vidyuth has a new blog.

Easy.

It still rankles.

Why I survive.

Where: X B
When: 29th January '09
What: Insanity personified.
How: Evening Zero hour. Need I say more?

Nivi and CK diligently work out analytical geometry and burst out in giggles for no apparent reason. Lekha chews the back of her pen (MINE!) with great concentration. Harith turns around over and over again to talk to MM and Arjun, who in turn are talking about Rish and Am. Harith says 'This and all won't last man, see see.' and Arjun replies 'Manidhan unarndhu kolla idhu manidhar kadhal alla.' I roll my eyes at him and at MM when he says 'Pinna, miruga kadhal aa?'. Prashant sits on his desk and surveys the class, looking for godknowswhat. Sushant comes up to him and raps him on the back of the head, starting a mini WWE raw. Nidhi, Vandana, Ruchika and Vishnupriya borrow my graffiti-ed steel scale so they can play truth or dare. Sanjana asks me to ask Sajin his total. I ask him and turn back front. He promptly starts to sing Yethi Yethi. Vishnumali and Nallasatish look into each other's eyes and seem to be having a serious discussion. Without warning, Nallasatish tries strangling Vishnumali, who says 'daaai adhu YENDHU da!' Abhay and Aravind commentadichufy as usual, Abhay's bullhorn voice ensuring everyone knows what he's talking about. 'Dai andha k*^&$%#$ p&^*#%&^$ m%^^&$ k%^$&@$% poi m%^*^%#^ p$%$&%^& n%^&* sollu.' Everyone cringes. Abhay looks pleased. A giggling Nidhi goes up to Ujjval and asks him to comb his hair, as part of her 'dare'. He in turn defiantly messes it up further, though I wonder how his hand doesn't get stuck in that mass of goo in the first place. Additionally, he untucks his shirt and hi-fives Suraj. Nilesh blandly looks around, massaging Satish's earlobe as usual. Satish swats him off a couple of times, but then gives it up as a bad job. P Mohan unblinkingly stares at VP, who doesn't seem to mind. Nivedha and the Preethis turn around, offer me bread with jam, call me 'stupit girl' and turn back front. The twins, whom Abhay unfortunately calls Angavai and Sangavai, look scandalised at the sight of Raghul and Robert chewing gum. KP and Abhi vie for Harith's attention by loudly laughing and cracking erm, jokes, but she being oblivious to things like these, examines my nails. Prashant is now calling Sushant names I doubt even exist, and Sushant sits unruffled with Raghavendra and gang, who as usual are looking at pictures of Katrina Kaif on their cell phones. Gaurav and Tahir sit with their feet propped up on the desk, playing something that looks from far like Chikuliba. Sultania takes out his Cuticura talcum powder and sprinkles on everyone's head. He decides cuticura, which in large doses smells quite vile, does not resemble dandruff. Zavid then proceeds to blow little plastic bits around the class, which the girls squeal at and try to swat down. S Divya and Manisha come up to the front of class and tell us a few riddles they saw on 9XM the previous day. Everyone falls silent for a second, like it so often happens. Sujivan says 'Why silence?' and they start off again.

Amidst all this, I smile.

For this is SBOA.
This is home.

I WOULD put up a picture of my class. Promise not to laugh.

Culture indeed.

The Sri Ram Sene's attack on pub-goers (pub-going women*) has left me shocked, frustrated and very very taken aback. More than the excuse these 'brotherly culture-cops' hid behind, or the despicable way their culture-cleansing exercise was carried, its the blatant double standard that bothers me the most.

They say women drinking, going to pubs and having a good time is against Hindu culture. I didn't know Hinduism endorsed MEN doing the same things. And honestly, this is a country where female deities are revered as the essence of life, which they are. This is the same country where a bunch of hoodlums hiding behind religion physically assaulted a bunch of women, caught themselves on tape and publicised what they did to the max.

The worst part about such mindless chaos as an actual system of governance is that it works so well. Sadly enough, no woman IS going to go out clubbing in Mangalore for a while, not while these glorious upholders of our tradition are still around.

But think about it, its not just outfits like the Sri Ram Sene, bias towards males has been everywhere, since time immemorial. Men go out, party, play the field, drink, have a good time, oh yes they're just 'boys having fun'. And they ultimately go on to marry a demure Indian woman. Women on the other hand, are supposed to stay home and learn to make chapathis, for if they, god forbid, go out and PARTY like their male counterparts (-gasp-), the stench of gossip will always hang around them and their marriage prospects will be ruined for good. Even in the western world, the girl is always the 'slut. The boy on the other hand, is a 'player'.

When we're eve-teased? Oh, we were dressed provocatively. Groped on a bus? We were giving them come-ons! Assaulted? We were so asking for it, they're only human, cha. Physically abused? Its our fault, we were born weaker and so, incapable of defending ourselves. Victims of dowry deaths? Its us, its us, why did we have to be born into families that aren't rich enough? Abused at the workplace? Oh, we were too educated for our own good. We're WOMEN, how could we let that happen?! Domestic violence? Its our fault, we should know to keep our husbands happy.

Like it or not, the accusing finger always points at a woman. I'm reminded of this conversation I had with Tariq a while ago, on strength and how women use their feminine wiles to manipulate the opposite gender (I said some women like to think its their way of being nice, and making sure other people are nice to them. He just found it weird, but I digress). He said men were stronger duh (in which case they shouldn't PICK ON WOMEN! and be bigger people.), but I think strength isn't measured by how much a person can inflict, but how much they can endure. And that way, women are definitely the stronger sex. But women being ostensibly weaker physically, men taking advantage of them is plain cowardly. Pick on someone your physical equal if you do have to 'prove your worth as a male', beating up a woman doesn't really elevate you in ANYbody's eyes.

I'm still shocked and frustrated, but I'm no longer taken aback. So it is, so its always been. And so it always MIGHT be unless we all take a stand somewhere. Think about it, is this the kind of world you'd want to bring a child into? Knowing that s/he'll either be the messee OR the messer? The kind of world where animosity is so intense, a woman actually has to think twice before accepting a job or wish she was a different gender before leaving the house? A couple of centuries of male subjugation would actually do the world a great favour right now, because talk of balance and equality doesn't seem to be doing it much. All the same, this isn't a boys vs. girls debate. This is how things are as I see it, and it'd do everyone good to just be the best people they can be. Its the least we can do!

My 15th part 2.

Ok, a friend of mine, let's call her Pam, read my blog and said 'it wasn't me' and that I was much more optimistic and happier in real life. So just know that however sad and upsetting my posts might be, I'm not half as neurotic as I should be about the boards and life et al.

Alright, so after that first surprise I was pretty much at peace with the world and waited for Tuesday all patiently. It wasn't much to look forward to seeing how my girlbunch, with the exception of Pam, weren't in town. Amritha was in Hyderabad, Divya was in Palani, Niran and Kavitha just couldn't go anywhere, Sanjana in Ooty, Swathi in Tirupur. So I woke up on my birthday and waited for Pam to come home, after which we took many happy pictures and went for a walk.

Somewhere around this time, I get a call from a very vague Niran asking me to go to Odyssey cos someone was waiting for me. She calls me 4 times in the next half hour, asking me to go there RIGHT NOW, and Pam was of no help at all in asking her what the hell was wrong. Soo we set off, passing Divya's house on the way, and go to Odyssey and found NO one there. We waited around, peeking behind the stalls, and still nothing. For want of better things to do, we walked to boomerang and downed a couple of milkshakes and walked back home, Pam unwilling to walk some more with me. I suggested we get pinky manicures at Green Trends, but she shouted me down.

We walk back, giggling like mad, and run into Saba (:|) on the way home. I open the front door and Amma holds out the phone so I could get another birthday wish. Pam flops down on the couch and I pull her towards my room, which is uncharacteristically shut. I OPEN the door and there are streamers hanging from the top of window. Those shiny chains they use as party decorations. A huge link-banner saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATULAA. And balloons and party hats everywhere.

I look at Pam, not knowing what to think, and there they were. Amritha Swathi Divya Sanjana and my sister, stooorming in from the balcony, holding out a camera, taking a picture of me looking like a star goldfish. What can I say, I was.. surprised. :)

The usual cake-cutting and face-creaming followed, and needless to say I was worst hit. We sat around taking more pictures and supersenti video, after which we walked to That's Y Food for mud souffles. Walking is just so much fun, especially if friends, pictures, laughter and random flowers lying around go with it. Post mud souffle, more pictures and walking. Walked to Odyssey, where I was asked to sit in Bon Bon like a good girl while the rest chose me a present.

They got me You Are Here, Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan, with a looooot of messages inside of it. We walked back home with a few packets of chips, called on a few classmates, went home, and danced with each other without a care in the world. Thus concluded an awesome awesome birthday. A few of my fav pictures follow.



Pam's missing. :(



Divya Sanjana Amritha Swathi Me Harith.



Something went wrong with 4.1 mp camera that day, the edges got all blurry, but I still like how it all turned out.



The guys at tyf wouldn't let us in cos it was nearly 3 o' clock, but they did when I said we were here for dessert only. They still had to pull down the shutters though, which fortunately made for optimum photogenic effect.

I love it that these girls faced my sulking for so long to give me this, cos I can usually be VERY difficult when I don't get what I want, and I wasn't very happy when I heard that they were all ahem, out of station. So yeah, I gave them a tough time, but they still managed to make this such, such fun. I love you, girlbunch. :)

ANYhoo, the moral of the story is, I take my birthday very very seriously and I expect other people to as well.
Unreasonable you say? Ah well, love me love my quirks :)

Mood of the hour- Beginnings of a headache. :( Sports day was yesterday and it was so utterly pointless.

I am SO bored..

.. I will probably write something Bell jar-esque and shock everyone. Chumma.

Though anything having to do with wrists and bathtubs and sharp things get me so fucking scared, I have to sing 'I just can't wait to be king' to compose myself again.

Speaking of songs, I was listening to this song by Ingrid Michaelson called 'The Way I Am'. Its suuuuuper sweet and makes me feel the way I used to feel when I pictured phantom conversations with Dev Patel in my head. Its funny how jaded and cynical I've become compared to a few months ago. Its not like I've been through a personal tragedy of any sort since then, but I no longer say 'Aw how cute!' to the little things, and I can't bring myself to be all cutesy and supportive when the girls talk about the significant others. I don't know. Goodbye, Miss Mayonnaise. But I did enjoy the song, so I guess I'm not as cold as I think I am.

Also, there's this story I saw someplace about how Ernest Hemingway was asked to write a story in 6 words and he said 'For sale: baby shoes, never worn'.
Hehehe, that's something I'd so laugh at if it was told in front of me. My six word memoir would probably read '15, and already worried about healthcare.' Best I can do. The reason why I'm not a writer already. Tell me yours!

ALSO, I regret to tell whoever's reading and not an orkut friend of mine that I am now going to lock my scrapbook on account of how all the scraps I'm getting are 'woww cuutie..... u wnt 2 make frndship???'. I usually find the disclaimers saying 'STAY AWAY DON'T ADD ME' unnecessary, cos really, it goes without saying. The only reason most people I know sign into orkut at all is to say something nice back to the people we know who scrap us, or maaaaybe accept a testimonial that will make you want to cuddle the writer to bits. I also keep my scrapbook unlocked in belief that someday, somehow an old acquaintance or two will find me and
renew our happy acquaintance. Tough luck pa, guess you'll all have to email me after all.

ANYhow, mood of the hour- grouchy and SO in the mood for some tv, which is stupidly acting out now. My life is so devoid of profundity. And the most emotion I could sum up this evening was to tell amma how annoying I find Paris Hilton. Jump off a cliff you, like really.

Silent E.

"Who can turn a can into a cane?
Who can turn a pan into a pane?
It's not too hard to see
It's silent e

Who can turn a cub into a cube?
Who can turn a tub into a tube?
It's elementary
For silent e

He took a pin and turned it into pine
He took a twin and turned him into twine

Who can turn a cap into a cape?
Who can turn a tap into a tape?
A little glob becomes a globe instantly
If you just add silent e

He turned a dam - alikazam! - into a dame
But my friend Sam stayed just the same

Who can turn a man into a mane?
Who can turn a van into a vane?
A little hug becomes huge instantly
Don't add w, don't add x, and don't add y or z,
Just add silent e "

This is something I came across by Tom Lehrer, that genius. Letters can be so bloody powerful sometimes, and words are what make you you. I'm having this huuge insignificant moment now, I can't imagine how small I'd be if there were no words. Thoughts crashing around in your head, with no way out. Brr.

You.

I think there might just be a god.

I stood on my balcony last week and looked at the moon. It's enchanting, whole, perfect, emanating the kind of radiance even non-poets could wax eloquent about. There are jagged traces of yellow all around it, little jagged traces, just enough to flirt with the dark of the sky, just enough for it to almost say 'peekaboo' and disappear. For children to look at it in awe, in wonderment, in anticipation of newness. For lovers to stare at together, watching their common dreams unfold in the promise of the vast sky. For people to look at it for hope, for peace of mind, for things they look for in war and destruction, and never find. For me to be reminded of you.

To make me smile again. To see you in my mind's eye, perfect as always, running your hands through your hair. To think of your eyes, in all their gold-flecked russet glory. To picture you laughing your perfect laugh, even though I can't hear you. The silence is deafening you see.

I claim to be a cynic, a pessimist, who sees nothing wondrous in the world around. Someone who thinks the world lives and dies behind a facade of goodness, lifting at times to give us world wars and atom bombs. Someone who thinks there's nothing to live for, but the ultimate, all-encompassing armageddon.

I'm also the same person who looks at the moon and a lot of other things, thinks of you, goes dizzy with an onslaught of memories, and grins like a maniac.

I love you. Doesn't it show?
________________________


PS: PURE FICTION.

MY 15TH. :D

My 15th birthday is something I will keep coming back to when I picture the perfect birthday.

Alright, I'm one of those people who are nearly impossible to surprise. That said, my friends threw me not one, but two surprise parties this year. And I was surprised not once, but both times. Okay FINE, so that blows what I said just now. Anyway.

Siddarth calls me like a week before my birthday and we plan a random meeting at subway the coming 28th. (Ok, my birthday's on the 30th of September, but I really had to blog about it) Soo, I say fine, and Sunday comes, and my mom and I spend the afternoon at fabindia kurti-shopping. My mom then drops me off outside Subway and I call Siddarth to ask him where he is. The following conversation ensues.

me: Hey man, where are you?
Sid: Uh, atu, I'm leaving. Where are you?
me: I'm there already, I'm standing outside.
Sid: Uh, okay, wait till I get there. There are monsters in there.
me: Eh?
Sid: No, just wait for me and Niran. It isn't a very good place.
me: O k a y. I'll wait for you guys at Nilgiri's then.
Sid: Great. Just don't go in ok? bye!

So I walk around Nilgiris, looking at the magazines and NOT the make-up like Vishal later claimed (wtf.), when Amritha calls me and tells me about how she's bored at home with nothing to do. I couldn't drop the monster thing though, and the possibility of a surprise.. hit me. Just like that. Aaand my knees went all weak, my jaw dropped and I'm pretty sure I choked up a bit too. I stood right there, ohmygodding till Siddarth and Niran arrived, Niran looking all spry wearing those hoops she keeps only for special occasions (Second clue, there!). We walk into Subway, rather undramatically, because I was so looking out for feet under the tables or.. something like that. The guy behind the counter was looking at me and towards the bathroom door all curiously, and THEN they all troop out, Vidyuth Kb Vishal John Amritha. I really don't remember how I reacted, what with Niran and Amritha commanding me to startcryingNOW!(I didn't, the initial throat-choking had gone away, all I think I did was grin like mad), but it was surprisingly awesome, how they'd kept this from me for so long and actually gone ahead with it despite me acting so nosy(I left those parts out, but I was nosy).

We took no pictures that day, or I'd so put one in here, except for this one to see how much taller Vishal was than me, but I think I deleted it right then. :|

Thanks you guys, I can sure tell you that made my year. :)

Part 2 will soon follow, my fingers hurt now.

the year that was.

It's been nearly a year since I even gave my blog the time of day, and something tells me blogging will seeeeriously help my nerves.

Okay, 10th std.

Sometime in May last year, I was inundated with people everywhere telling me how this year's going to decide where my life is headed and how I'd better jump into Muthannakulam if my boards become thandavaalam (Yeah, David said that. Something like it.).

Then the books came and we all drew up study timetables and compared them and tried fitting in two more hours of maths in there (pffft.). And THEN school started. W were practically alienated from the rest of the school (who, by the way, could never ask us anything but 'hi ka, how is tenth, hectic no?' when we DID run into them.), what with our crazy timings and such.

In a matter of three months, we'd finished half of our portions, gone on a day long trip to Top Slip (which was mad fun, despite the fact that we spent exactly two and a half hours at our destination and spent 8 hours in commute. That deserves a blog post of its own, cha.), and written around 4 slip tests, enough to tire anyone (ok, me) out.

Needless to say, the study plan lay forgotten, and I was perfectly content with the 90sth marks I brought home every other week. I had, what 7 months to go for the boards after all. And ha, who's gonna remember my slip test marks when I'm a diplomat with the UN? The quarterlies came by, and I conveniently left all the studying to 4amthemorningoftheexam, and spoilt Vidyuth's birthday for myself (the marks came out then). I got around 87% and around 7 hours of advice/lecturing/pep talks/what call you from the parentals.

The halfyearlies were slightly better, if that's what you call a 92%. At the moment, I'm feeling queasy everytime someone mentions May, cos really, I don't mind taking the boards tomorrow, its the results I hate thinking about. This might seem unnecessary to someone who's already taken the boards, but I wish I wasn't at this point of my life right now. :(

Also, I'm writing this with a revision exam the next day, and I do know that this isn't a very good comeback post nor does it tell you anything about the erm,' year that was' that you might've wanted to know. But hey, it sure feels good to tell people to STOP ASKING ME IF I'M GONNA GET A STATE RANK ALREADY on a public forum.

B-)
__________

I want to watch Delhi 6. I think Sonam looks supercute with those strands of hair framing her face like they do, aw.

Who wants to come with me?