Over the weekend, I hunted and experimented with a new look, but was not the least bit pleased with the new look - far from it! I was wondering why I changed the look at all...I've also been wondering why I am not the type of a person who took up "computer classes" in college - atleast if I'd done that, I'd know how to fiddle with damn HTML settings and tweak the templates to my liking. Instead I must be content with someone else's creations. Ick...
Finally settled for this template - not really MY colours, but it works for me.
So what think?
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Blogging to the Rescue..
LivingHigh blogged for therapeutic purposes today, so I thought I'd try it as well. After all this Blog had started off as a means of therapy/catharsis. It's a different matter that it has grown and evolved into something much more mature and audience oriented. Doesn't mean I can't blog just for myself once in a while does it?
Yesterday Deepak of Hints, Allegations and more passed the baton to me - what baton you ask? That of a music meme - it reminded me of another meme that had been sent to me by Gulnaz of ApplePathways, which I never got around to filling up. I did fill up this one and here it is :-
1.Total volume of music on my computer:- Umm...mmmm...several folders full of them? Being illiterate as I am about GBs, KBs and the like, I can't throw numbers at you ;-)
2. The last CD I brought:- Trilok Gurtu's latest album Broken Rhythms - have to post a review on it. It's mindblowing stuff!
3. Song playing right now:- "Tu m'ennuies, j'ai sommeil" from Pascal Heni's Concert Evolutifs Double CD album.
4. Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:-
This would have to be Five Cds, since I can't narrow it down to Five songs
1. Crossroads - BonJovi (you know why!)
2. Mystic India - for it's sheer rhythms
3. Rhydhun - it features Zakir Hussain, Alla Rakha, Shankar Mahadevan along with Taufiq - need I say more?
4. Yesterday no more - a fabulous collection of Oldies from the 50s and 60s - divine stuff!
5. ABBA Golden Hits - they still rock!:-)
Since we are on the topic of Music, I simply must rave about one of the albums I've mentioned in the above meme. Trilok Gurtu's Broken Rhythms - I picked it up a fortnight back, and still can't get over it. It's mindblowing stuff and I'm itching to share it with someone; unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who's perspective you are looking at) I can't play my usual sweetheart and give my buddies a copy of the CD, since it is "Copy Controlled." So I can just rave about it on my blog, and urge those who are into this kind of music (or even if not) to go grab a copy before it disappears into the archives of music stores! It's an album worth having. (The site allows you to hear some of the songs - check them out!)
With some amazing sounds, Sohum is my favourite track on this album. There are some intersting collaborations, but the one that most caught my attention was The Way to Banganga, which uses throat singing. A friend has once sent me an email about this form of singing, and though I read the email with avid interest I never quite got how that could contribute to a rhythmical sound. Even hearing some examples on a Discovery Show which showcased Mongolian culture didn't help, since it simply sounded very raw and rudimentary to me. Now I do - and it's awesome how the sound can contribute so much to the track!
For those of you who don't know who Gurtu is - well to start with, he's the guru of percussion! Son of late Shobha Gurtu (Hindustani classical vocalist, famous for Thumri). He was a tabla player in R D Burman's troupe and had gone for an Europe tour with Asha Bhosle as headline singer. While on tour, he took off on his own and went to Germany. Even today, he lives in Hamburg. The story is that for six years he lived under a bridge and pursued his dream. Today, he's considered one of the best percussionists in the world.
Recommendation :- If you like this one, hunt for Shankar's Song for Everyone - phenomenal sounds, it includes a track by Gurtu - Rest in Peace.
PS I believe the baton has to be passed on to atleast three people...I'd urge everyone to fill it up, but as of now I officially pass the baton on to Rahul, Phal, Gulnaz and August.
Yesterday Deepak of Hints, Allegations and more passed the baton to me - what baton you ask? That of a music meme - it reminded me of another meme that had been sent to me by Gulnaz of ApplePathways, which I never got around to filling up. I did fill up this one and here it is :-
1.Total volume of music on my computer:- Umm...mmmm...several folders full of them? Being illiterate as I am about GBs, KBs and the like, I can't throw numbers at you ;-)
2. The last CD I brought:- Trilok Gurtu's latest album Broken Rhythms - have to post a review on it. It's mindblowing stuff!
3. Song playing right now:- "Tu m'ennuies, j'ai sommeil" from Pascal Heni's Concert Evolutifs Double CD album.
4. Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:-
This would have to be Five Cds, since I can't narrow it down to Five songs
1. Crossroads - BonJovi (you know why!)
2. Mystic India - for it's sheer rhythms
3. Rhydhun - it features Zakir Hussain, Alla Rakha, Shankar Mahadevan along with Taufiq - need I say more?
4. Yesterday no more - a fabulous collection of Oldies from the 50s and 60s - divine stuff!
5. ABBA Golden Hits - they still rock!:-)
Since we are on the topic of Music, I simply must rave about one of the albums I've mentioned in the above meme. Trilok Gurtu's Broken Rhythms - I picked it up a fortnight back, and still can't get over it. It's mindblowing stuff and I'm itching to share it with someone; unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who's perspective you are looking at) I can't play my usual sweetheart and give my buddies a copy of the CD, since it is "Copy Controlled." So I can just rave about it on my blog, and urge those who are into this kind of music (or even if not) to go grab a copy before it disappears into the archives of music stores! It's an album worth having. (The site allows you to hear some of the songs - check them out!)
With some amazing sounds, Sohum is my favourite track on this album. There are some intersting collaborations, but the one that most caught my attention was The Way to Banganga, which uses throat singing. A friend has once sent me an email about this form of singing, and though I read the email with avid interest I never quite got how that could contribute to a rhythmical sound. Even hearing some examples on a Discovery Show which showcased Mongolian culture didn't help, since it simply sounded very raw and rudimentary to me. Now I do - and it's awesome how the sound can contribute so much to the track!
For those of you who don't know who Gurtu is - well to start with, he's the guru of percussion! Son of late Shobha Gurtu (Hindustani classical vocalist, famous for Thumri). He was a tabla player in R D Burman's troupe and had gone for an Europe tour with Asha Bhosle as headline singer. While on tour, he took off on his own and went to Germany. Even today, he lives in Hamburg. The story is that for six years he lived under a bridge and pursued his dream. Today, he's considered one of the best percussionists in the world.
Recommendation :- If you like this one, hunt for Shankar's Song for Everyone - phenomenal sounds, it includes a track by Gurtu - Rest in Peace.
PS I believe the baton has to be passed on to atleast three people...I'd urge everyone to fill it up, but as of now I officially pass the baton on to Rahul, Phal, Gulnaz and August.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
The Game of Life...
As I sit me down to type this post, I hear the sound of the car doors shutting six floors below and I know it's my cousin who has arrived (an hour too late - why don't people adhere to punctuality?) and I shall have to get up just when I FINALLY sat down to write. An interruption that I am not happy about. After all, it's been aeons since I've written and I'm feeling positively constipated with all the words and ideas being stuck inside me for so long. The bell rings...I excuse myself.
Back; boy am I itching to write today. Even at the cost of staying up late to finish reading Histoire de la France (1815-1850) - the second section of the period from 1789-1850 that I'm handling for the presentation on the History of France, due on the 31st. Reading this book reminded me of why I enjoyed History so much back in school - we had adecent set of teachers, who more than made up for the inadequacies of our ultra-boring S.S.C History textbook and I had even considered majoring in History at one point. Then came Junior college, a terrible teacher and an incredily soporific syllabus of Indian History (again) and Maharashtrian History (which we did each year from Std IV to Std X)...and all plans of taking up History were dropped. My combination for Under-Grad was Psycho-Socio-Literature.
The last one week has been exhausting, stressful and hectic to say the least. A person who likes things in order and treasures a sense of routine, was thrust into a choatic existence with not even an iota of routine - end result? I was extremely tired and cranky and irritable yesterday. Last night I threw a tanturm on the phone while talking to close buddy, counsellor, guardian angel rolled into one (Kunu Baba - what would I do without him?) and finally felt relieved once the catharsis was taken care of. It helps that our beloved Shanta tai, who has worked for us for 23 yrs (from the time I was 6 mths old till last year when we moved from Bbay to Pune) has come down for some time to help us out. She's an amazing woman - in tune with our needs, she senses our moods and knows how to handle us even when we are out ous worst. Even with a maid for the housework and a cook, we didn't feel like it was alright to forget about the housework when Bhabhi was in the hospital and later when the baby had just come home. Monitoring them just added to our stress - but now that Shanta is here, we can focus on getting the baby's routine settled and bringing the house back onto it's well-oiled wheels!
Some time back a friend commented that it was amazing how I had such high standards of housekeeping despite my upbringing. I didn't know what he meant by "upbringing" then and still don't know, but I couldn't refute him then and won't refute anyone who points it out to me. Home-maker or not, woman or man, I think a house should be clean, aesthetically pleasing and practical. I guess it's come down in the genes from Ma who's a super woman and has always kept our home the perfect haven.
Today the same friend commented that I also have high standards on how a child should be brought up - I'd never thought about this, but I guess all those years of seeing my cousins bring up their kids in all the possible ways, has ended up in me having strong views on how children should be, and how much parental relationships and upbringing has an effect on the child and eventually the adult. I have nieces and nephews I adore and love spending time with and ones that I'd gladly slap the senses out of and very often itch to kick off the terrace, or atleast into a swimming pool! I hope my brother's child doesn't fall into the latter category.
The same goes for mothers - I never understand why so many women who long to become mothers aren't prepared for the responsibility that goes with it (not just towards the child, but also towards yourself). Why do they think that a baby is merely a toy that they will have to play with and that it will just grow up by itself without a helping hand to steer him/her in the right direction? Ek baar paida kar lo, bacche to apne aap hi pal jaate hain - God I feel like shaking the people who say that. I hope my own Bhabhi doesn't disappoint me - for I can't do or say much if I don't want to spoil relationships. And I hope I'm not expecting too much. Sometimes I wonder if it's good to have such high expectations, but how can I settle for mediocrity?
Time shall tell - que sera sera. All we can do is play our roles to the best we can and see what cards open next in the game of life! *Amen*
Back; boy am I itching to write today. Even at the cost of staying up late to finish reading Histoire de la France (1815-1850) - the second section of the period from 1789-1850 that I'm handling for the presentation on the History of France, due on the 31st. Reading this book reminded me of why I enjoyed History so much back in school - we had adecent set of teachers, who more than made up for the inadequacies of our ultra-boring S.S.C History textbook and I had even considered majoring in History at one point. Then came Junior college, a terrible teacher and an incredily soporific syllabus of Indian History (again) and Maharashtrian History (which we did each year from Std IV to Std X)...and all plans of taking up History were dropped. My combination for Under-Grad was Psycho-Socio-Literature.
The last one week has been exhausting, stressful and hectic to say the least. A person who likes things in order and treasures a sense of routine, was thrust into a choatic existence with not even an iota of routine - end result? I was extremely tired and cranky and irritable yesterday. Last night I threw a tanturm on the phone while talking to close buddy, counsellor, guardian angel rolled into one (Kunu Baba - what would I do without him?) and finally felt relieved once the catharsis was taken care of. It helps that our beloved Shanta tai, who has worked for us for 23 yrs (from the time I was 6 mths old till last year when we moved from Bbay to Pune) has come down for some time to help us out. She's an amazing woman - in tune with our needs, she senses our moods and knows how to handle us even when we are out ous worst. Even with a maid for the housework and a cook, we didn't feel like it was alright to forget about the housework when Bhabhi was in the hospital and later when the baby had just come home. Monitoring them just added to our stress - but now that Shanta is here, we can focus on getting the baby's routine settled and bringing the house back onto it's well-oiled wheels!
Some time back a friend commented that it was amazing how I had such high standards of housekeeping despite my upbringing. I didn't know what he meant by "upbringing" then and still don't know, but I couldn't refute him then and won't refute anyone who points it out to me. Home-maker or not, woman or man, I think a house should be clean, aesthetically pleasing and practical. I guess it's come down in the genes from Ma who's a super woman and has always kept our home the perfect haven.
Today the same friend commented that I also have high standards on how a child should be brought up - I'd never thought about this, but I guess all those years of seeing my cousins bring up their kids in all the possible ways, has ended up in me having strong views on how children should be, and how much parental relationships and upbringing has an effect on the child and eventually the adult. I have nieces and nephews I adore and love spending time with and ones that I'd gladly slap the senses out of and very often itch to kick off the terrace, or atleast into a swimming pool! I hope my brother's child doesn't fall into the latter category.
The same goes for mothers - I never understand why so many women who long to become mothers aren't prepared for the responsibility that goes with it (not just towards the child, but also towards yourself). Why do they think that a baby is merely a toy that they will have to play with and that it will just grow up by itself without a helping hand to steer him/her in the right direction? Ek baar paida kar lo, bacche to apne aap hi pal jaate hain - God I feel like shaking the people who say that. I hope my own Bhabhi doesn't disappoint me - for I can't do or say much if I don't want to spoil relationships. And I hope I'm not expecting too much. Sometimes I wonder if it's good to have such high expectations, but how can I settle for mediocrity?
Time shall tell - que sera sera. All we can do is play our roles to the best we can and see what cards open next in the game of life! *Amen*
Saturday, May 21, 2005
Lullaby for the Baby
Sent to me by a Fellow Blogger, for my little nephew - thought I'd post it here in lieu of a post from me, which is long over-due. I'm so tired these days by the end of the day I can barely bring myself to sign-in and check my mail and drop by my favourite Blogs; just the thought of penning down anything for a half-decent post fatigues me even more! So until I get around to storing energy to write a post, and inject some sense of routine back into my life...here's a little lullaby for the baby, courtesy Sreekesh. Thanks Sree!
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Little fingers and tiny toes
Baby face and all its glows
You are now our brightest shine
That star I can call mine
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
la la la la ....
la la la la...
Mmm...Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Holding you little nephew
In my arms , watching you wink
Stealing my heart with your every look
Singing you slowly, slowly to sleep
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
This is gods will little one
You in my arms, in my eyes
In my heart and In my life
You are my little prince
I will be your best friend
I will even teach you all my tricks
Even make you the best baby of the house
Oh yes baby boy , much better than I
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
Our everything!
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Little fingers and tiny toes
Baby face and all its glows
You are now our brightest shine
That star I can call mine
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
la la la la ....
la la la la...
Mmm...Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Holding you little nephew
In my arms , watching you wink
Stealing my heart with your every look
Singing you slowly, slowly to sleep
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
This is gods will little one
You in my arms, in my eyes
In my heart and In my life
You are my little prince
I will be your best friend
I will even teach you all my tricks
Even make you the best baby of the house
Oh yes baby boy , much better than I
la la la la ....Mm ..Mmm. Hmm..Hmm...
Your mama is sleeping
Dreaming of her little sun
Your daddy is out searching
For a name for his everything
Baby boy you are our everything
Our everything, our everything
Our everything!
Monday, May 16, 2005
Say Hello To...
The Newest Member of the Shrivastava Khandaan - my nephew born on 15th May 2005, at 4 a.m after a long and tiring Labour that ended in surgery!
Showing his Taurean colours already - he burst into the world with a bang and made sure his mother felt every little bit of it! :-)
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Getting Gorgeous...
Yesterday evening, while my Almond cake was baking in the oven, I plonked myself in front of the television for some serious channel-surfing. After around 10 minutes of surfing I found myself watching [V] - they were screening the repeat of last week's Get Gorgeous show - I'd quite totally forgotten about my own experience with the show! Hehe - my mother nearly fell off her chair when I said this to her! She was quite shocked to say the least that I had ANY experience with the show and more so, that she didn't know about it!
Several months back, when [V] had probably started hunting for contestants, I was at CCD, Law College Road with a friend. My friend had excused himself for a few minutes and I was sitting there observing the people around me when a [V] representative approached me. This is how our conversation had proceeded:-
She:- Hi, would you like to take part in [V] Get Gorgeous?
Me:- (Shocked out of my wits) Thanks, but no thanks.
She:- We'll provide you a great platform to enter the modelling world.
Me:- Kaam Dhandha nahin hai kya?
She:- (Shocked even more than me - this was probably the only reply of the sort she got) Excuse me?
Me:- Well apart from the fact that I'm not the least bit interested and not at all cut out for the modelling scene, don't you guys have to adhere to any kind of criteria? Or do you just randomly approach and bait any girl who's passably good-looking?
She:- You stand a good chance of winning..
Me:- (Nearly choking in disbelief) Lady I believe one of the first criterias to become a super-model is HEIGHT which incase you didn't notice I'm sadly lacking - 5.1 ft doesn't quite fit the Statistics required does it?
She:- Oh you're that short!
Me:- (Baring teeth by now) Yeah luckily intelligence has nothing to do with height. Now if you'll excuse me...
As I replayed this scene out for my mother, the show continued in the background. Later I thoght back to the kind of girls who were participating and it got me wondering what the girl had hoped to achieve by roping me into the competition! Had I been stupid enough to consider it, I'd have been kicked out right at Stage 1 just on the basis of my height. I can't blame the girl for not realising and picking up on the other details that make me so inadequate for the modelling scene (she really couldn't make that out from just seeing me from a distance) but I still don't get why she approached me when there wasn't even the slimmest chance of me making it to the finals. I mean, are they out there just to get as many contestants as possible so they can proudly proclaim to have screened the new supermodel from thousands? How does it help when the batch you've started with doesn't even fit the criteria needed? Why approach someone of that sort to begin with?
Anyways - I was quite amazed and impressed at how this contest means so much to some of the girls and how amazingly self-confident they are - most of them seemed to think that have no competition at all, so sexy and gorgeous they are! Hats off to these girls for what they have - it takes something to let yourself be subjected to such scrutiny and even the possibility of complete embarassment & humiliation on a show being watched by several thousands of people, at the least!
Several months back, when [V] had probably started hunting for contestants, I was at CCD, Law College Road with a friend. My friend had excused himself for a few minutes and I was sitting there observing the people around me when a [V] representative approached me. This is how our conversation had proceeded:-
She:- Hi, would you like to take part in [V] Get Gorgeous?
Me:- (Shocked out of my wits) Thanks, but no thanks.
She:- We'll provide you a great platform to enter the modelling world.
Me:- Kaam Dhandha nahin hai kya?
She:- (Shocked even more than me - this was probably the only reply of the sort she got) Excuse me?
Me:- Well apart from the fact that I'm not the least bit interested and not at all cut out for the modelling scene, don't you guys have to adhere to any kind of criteria? Or do you just randomly approach and bait any girl who's passably good-looking?
She:- You stand a good chance of winning..
Me:- (Nearly choking in disbelief) Lady I believe one of the first criterias to become a super-model is HEIGHT which incase you didn't notice I'm sadly lacking - 5.1 ft doesn't quite fit the Statistics required does it?
She:- Oh you're that short!
Me:- (Baring teeth by now) Yeah luckily intelligence has nothing to do with height. Now if you'll excuse me...
As I replayed this scene out for my mother, the show continued in the background. Later I thoght back to the kind of girls who were participating and it got me wondering what the girl had hoped to achieve by roping me into the competition! Had I been stupid enough to consider it, I'd have been kicked out right at Stage 1 just on the basis of my height. I can't blame the girl for not realising and picking up on the other details that make me so inadequate for the modelling scene (she really couldn't make that out from just seeing me from a distance) but I still don't get why she approached me when there wasn't even the slimmest chance of me making it to the finals. I mean, are they out there just to get as many contestants as possible so they can proudly proclaim to have screened the new supermodel from thousands? How does it help when the batch you've started with doesn't even fit the criteria needed? Why approach someone of that sort to begin with?
Anyways - I was quite amazed and impressed at how this contest means so much to some of the girls and how amazingly self-confident they are - most of them seemed to think that have no competition at all, so sexy and gorgeous they are! Hats off to these girls for what they have - it takes something to let yourself be subjected to such scrutiny and even the possibility of complete embarassment & humiliation on a show being watched by several thousands of people, at the least!
Monday, May 09, 2005
On Urban lifestyles, development and me
This summer has been an eye-opener for me. Life changed drastically when we'd moved from Bombay to Pune, last year. In the months that followed I got used to a more relaxed pace of life; having little on my hands and very little to tax my brains I indulged in other pursuits and alot of introspection, some of which has led to me being more comfortable in my skin. Then there were the changes in quotidien habits, some of which have become even more drastic in the past few months.
The water that flows from the taps is different, because we don't get enough water from the corporation to suffice full use. So that water is only supplied in the kitchen for an hour everyday and we have to actually fill water for the day's use. For the rest, we get water from borewells which though filtered (Thank God for small mercies) isn't treated otherwise, so it's basically hard, salty water that we use for washing etc. End result? All steel products (utensils & taps primarily) end up looking patchy and dirty. The faucet for hot water in bathrooms actually turns white with this clacium deposit and we have to scrub it clean every few weeks. White clothes don't stay white unless you bleach them once in a while. And sometimes the clothes that emerge freshly washed from the washing machine have a wierd, stale smell...like they need to be washed!
I now have to ensure I bathe before noon; whether it's a week-day or a weekend doesn't matter because the water is shut everyday from 12.00 to 17.00 and again from 23.00 to 05.00. So bathe before noon and if you want to shower just before sleeping, make sure you do it before 11 pm, or else fill water in a bucket and use that! I've anyways pretty much abandoned use of the shower, because it's extremely annoying when the holes in the shower get clogged because of calcium and then the water comes out through just a few holes in horrid, piercing needles that attack, rather than soothe my skin. So I simply sit down under my tap - thank god I'm short and can get away with such things!
It's like moving back several decades in terms of what I considered basic necessities. Water should be flowing freely from my taps 24/7 and the water should be clean, good water. Living in an area of Bombay where such amenities were never questioned, the water-shortage problems most of the country faced always seemed so distant. I knew about it and have even experienced it when I've travelled or visited cousins elsewhere, but to deal with it as an inseperable part of my life was just so alien. The difference in quality of water was also something I'd never given much thought to, except when I went to Ahemadabad a couple of times the last few years or when I'd go to Noida as a kid - and then also it was only while drinking that I felt the difference so I simply drank less water and more of juices ;-)
I find it so difficult to reconcile myself to the Water in Pune, yet I know I should be thankful for there are still innumerable places in India where even this is a luxury. Makes me wonder about alot of things. For instance, whether we should be merrily sanctioning the indiscriminate (and almost criminal) use of water by television and film-makers every time they decide it needs to rain in order to lend "atmosphere" to the romantic scene or that a storm in absolutely necessary to provide the perfect backdrop for the breaking of an earth-shattering news. Profits in that department don't really help us progress in this department do they?
Part II in this vein of thought is soon to follow...
The water that flows from the taps is different, because we don't get enough water from the corporation to suffice full use. So that water is only supplied in the kitchen for an hour everyday and we have to actually fill water for the day's use. For the rest, we get water from borewells which though filtered (Thank God for small mercies) isn't treated otherwise, so it's basically hard, salty water that we use for washing etc. End result? All steel products (utensils & taps primarily) end up looking patchy and dirty. The faucet for hot water in bathrooms actually turns white with this clacium deposit and we have to scrub it clean every few weeks. White clothes don't stay white unless you bleach them once in a while. And sometimes the clothes that emerge freshly washed from the washing machine have a wierd, stale smell...like they need to be washed!
I now have to ensure I bathe before noon; whether it's a week-day or a weekend doesn't matter because the water is shut everyday from 12.00 to 17.00 and again from 23.00 to 05.00. So bathe before noon and if you want to shower just before sleeping, make sure you do it before 11 pm, or else fill water in a bucket and use that! I've anyways pretty much abandoned use of the shower, because it's extremely annoying when the holes in the shower get clogged because of calcium and then the water comes out through just a few holes in horrid, piercing needles that attack, rather than soothe my skin. So I simply sit down under my tap - thank god I'm short and can get away with such things!
It's like moving back several decades in terms of what I considered basic necessities. Water should be flowing freely from my taps 24/7 and the water should be clean, good water. Living in an area of Bombay where such amenities were never questioned, the water-shortage problems most of the country faced always seemed so distant. I knew about it and have even experienced it when I've travelled or visited cousins elsewhere, but to deal with it as an inseperable part of my life was just so alien. The difference in quality of water was also something I'd never given much thought to, except when I went to Ahemadabad a couple of times the last few years or when I'd go to Noida as a kid - and then also it was only while drinking that I felt the difference so I simply drank less water and more of juices ;-)
I find it so difficult to reconcile myself to the Water in Pune, yet I know I should be thankful for there are still innumerable places in India where even this is a luxury. Makes me wonder about alot of things. For instance, whether we should be merrily sanctioning the indiscriminate (and almost criminal) use of water by television and film-makers every time they decide it needs to rain in order to lend "atmosphere" to the romantic scene or that a storm in absolutely necessary to provide the perfect backdrop for the breaking of an earth-shattering news. Profits in that department don't really help us progress in this department do they?
Part II in this vein of thought is soon to follow...
Friday, May 06, 2005
New Fiction
So I didn't write what I had in mind that day. I started off with it, but we had an unscheduled power-cut just 10 lines down the story. Since I hadn't saved it till then, the 10 lines went poof with the electricity! Grrr...Anyways later that night, I saw to fruition another idea I'd been toying with for the past few days (weeks?)...
I call it The Bus Ride and it's up on Literary Mosaic to be read, discussed and assessed. :-)
I call it The Bus Ride and it's up on Literary Mosaic to be read, discussed and assessed. :-)
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Rainy Days, Never Say Goodbye...
The skies have been washed clean and shine down, through the thick cover of dark grey clouds. There's a freshness in the cool breeze that caresses my cheeks and plays with my hair, tossing it around into a tangled mess. The atmosphere is pregnant with the odour of freshly watered earth that teases my olfactory nerves into alertness and makes me sniff with curiosity. The suffocating presence of smoke, fly ash and dust particles seems to have been tamped down by downpour.
The streets, with their colossal absence of storm-water drains (I swear I don't understand why so many streets in Pune are missing drains for the longest stretches - pray where is the water supposed to go when it rains?), were flooded this afternoon creating a wonderful chaos that is so quintessentially "Indian Monsoon." Several trees on F.C Road, J.M. Road and I'm sure elsewhere couldn't withstand the naughty winds that lashed across the city and fell down to block entire streets and add to the commotion. A few billboards also bowed down to the forces of nature - fully-bent mind you, not that half-hearted bowing down!
Yes, it rained in Pune today. While the heavens have been opening up occasionally in the past couple of week, it wasn't much of a show and didn't succeed in bringing down the temperatures much. Today's grand display reminded me (almost painfully) of the monsoons I was accustomed to in Bombay - fierce winds that made a mockery of umbrellas accompanied by a sudden and heavy downpour that left you soaked to the skin within seconds. The pretty flowers adorning the street that goes upto from Patrakar Nagar were blown askew and scattered themselves all over the tarmac. Nature at her disheveled best.
I was caught in the downpour as I left class - and nearly got soaked, but for the semi-shelter of a bus-stand and then the parapet of India Art Gallery. As I stood there shivering in the cold wind and rain (I'm tempted to describe it as "un orage" a.k.a, a storm, but I know that would be a gross exaggeration) my minds drifted back to the innumerable times I've been caught in such rains in Bombay.
At Marine Drive with Aprajita, when we were both soaked to the skin within seconds - we had later walked down shivering like drowned rats to Churchgate Station to get ourselves some mouth-watering Frankie and Softy from the stall at the Station. Appu insisted later that I got a bigger softy because I was wearing a white top ;-)
At Bandstand with Kunal and Appu after having been unsuccessful at getting tickets at Gaiety (this was in the days before multiplexes happened to India) - we had forced Kunu to get into a bus on our way back to my place, gotten stuck in terrible snarling traffic that made the 45 minute commute last for over an hour and then walked from the bus-stop to my place bent under the onslaught of the rains. Kunu, I think, caught a rick from my place to his, which is like a stone's throw away! ;-) We had nagged him into changing and rerturning back for dinner and post-dinner talking into the wee hours of the morning!
At Mithibai when the rains had flooded all of Bombay - we were told to "evacuate" college - had to find our way out of college balancing on stilts because the "campus" outside the canteen entrance had flooded completely. I managed to get a bus which was packed like a tin of sardines and stood on the second step almost all the way home - at one point the water actually lapped at the feet of the person on the last step. A friend walked home, another hitched a ride with complete strangers. A professor who lived in the far-flung suburbs of the city had to take refuge in a colleague's home because trains were not running at all!
At Versova rock-beach, again with Appu and Kunu - this time we stubbornly stayed stuck to the rocks till we were quite wet, acting silly and drunk, scandalising the chana-wallas and others who were on the beach, singing a stupid song we'd made up right then and there..I vaguely remember the lines "It's raining in paradise, You are my fire I am your ice!" ;-)
At Amit's house in Versova, sipping garam garam chai and watching the waves lash angrily at the walls below, even as the winds howled wildly around his building. I'd shifted away from Pune the week before, and this was my first visit back "home" - little did I know how much I'd yearn for that sight in the months to come.
At my adda in the months that followed, high up on the 6th floor of my building, the windows pushed to one side, perched on the granite platform, arguing with Mansi at 2 am. She was down for her annual vacation and I'd rushed to Bombay to spend time with my bosom-buddy and guardian-angel - spent three unforgettable days in Bombay, catching up with her, opening my heart out to her (as always), chatting until the wee hours of the morning, not to mention getting my bheja-fried. That night it had rained like crazy and we'd sat there just admiring the sight of the rain-lashed streets below us till Mansi couldn't resist the urge to pick up at my brains again! ;-)
By the time I parted ways with my classmate who was my fellow-refugee, I was flooded with images from those wonderful days. It feels like yesterday, yet so far-away and so out-of-reach. I never thought I'd say this, but I love monsoons - the good Bombay variety, which spell heavy downpours, skies over-cast with dark grey clouds for days at ends with no hint of sunshine, the dampness which permeates homes, wet clothes and musty smells, flooded roads, chaotic traffic et al.
While my father would say all this calls for a cup of steaming elaichi chai and pakodas, I call for a big mug of steaming cappucino and a massive salami sandwich dripping with mayonnaise! I believe they call this a generation-gap ;-) On that note, I bid all of thee adieu and a good monsoon this year!
(Meanwhile a story brews to perfection in my head and I shall sit me down and type furiously away till I have carved out my newest creation to my satisfaction...)
The streets, with their colossal absence of storm-water drains (I swear I don't understand why so many streets in Pune are missing drains for the longest stretches - pray where is the water supposed to go when it rains?), were flooded this afternoon creating a wonderful chaos that is so quintessentially "Indian Monsoon." Several trees on F.C Road, J.M. Road and I'm sure elsewhere couldn't withstand the naughty winds that lashed across the city and fell down to block entire streets and add to the commotion. A few billboards also bowed down to the forces of nature - fully-bent mind you, not that half-hearted bowing down!
Yes, it rained in Pune today. While the heavens have been opening up occasionally in the past couple of week, it wasn't much of a show and didn't succeed in bringing down the temperatures much. Today's grand display reminded me (almost painfully) of the monsoons I was accustomed to in Bombay - fierce winds that made a mockery of umbrellas accompanied by a sudden and heavy downpour that left you soaked to the skin within seconds. The pretty flowers adorning the street that goes upto from Patrakar Nagar were blown askew and scattered themselves all over the tarmac. Nature at her disheveled best.
I was caught in the downpour as I left class - and nearly got soaked, but for the semi-shelter of a bus-stand and then the parapet of India Art Gallery. As I stood there shivering in the cold wind and rain (I'm tempted to describe it as "un orage" a.k.a, a storm, but I know that would be a gross exaggeration) my minds drifted back to the innumerable times I've been caught in such rains in Bombay.
At Marine Drive with Aprajita, when we were both soaked to the skin within seconds - we had later walked down shivering like drowned rats to Churchgate Station to get ourselves some mouth-watering Frankie and Softy from the stall at the Station. Appu insisted later that I got a bigger softy because I was wearing a white top ;-)
At Bandstand with Kunal and Appu after having been unsuccessful at getting tickets at Gaiety (this was in the days before multiplexes happened to India) - we had forced Kunu to get into a bus on our way back to my place, gotten stuck in terrible snarling traffic that made the 45 minute commute last for over an hour and then walked from the bus-stop to my place bent under the onslaught of the rains. Kunu, I think, caught a rick from my place to his, which is like a stone's throw away! ;-) We had nagged him into changing and rerturning back for dinner and post-dinner talking into the wee hours of the morning!
At Mithibai when the rains had flooded all of Bombay - we were told to "evacuate" college - had to find our way out of college balancing on stilts because the "campus" outside the canteen entrance had flooded completely. I managed to get a bus which was packed like a tin of sardines and stood on the second step almost all the way home - at one point the water actually lapped at the feet of the person on the last step. A friend walked home, another hitched a ride with complete strangers. A professor who lived in the far-flung suburbs of the city had to take refuge in a colleague's home because trains were not running at all!
At Versova rock-beach, again with Appu and Kunu - this time we stubbornly stayed stuck to the rocks till we were quite wet, acting silly and drunk, scandalising the chana-wallas and others who were on the beach, singing a stupid song we'd made up right then and there..I vaguely remember the lines "It's raining in paradise, You are my fire I am your ice!" ;-)
At Amit's house in Versova, sipping garam garam chai and watching the waves lash angrily at the walls below, even as the winds howled wildly around his building. I'd shifted away from Pune the week before, and this was my first visit back "home" - little did I know how much I'd yearn for that sight in the months to come.
At my adda in the months that followed, high up on the 6th floor of my building, the windows pushed to one side, perched on the granite platform, arguing with Mansi at 2 am. She was down for her annual vacation and I'd rushed to Bombay to spend time with my bosom-buddy and guardian-angel - spent three unforgettable days in Bombay, catching up with her, opening my heart out to her (as always), chatting until the wee hours of the morning, not to mention getting my bheja-fried. That night it had rained like crazy and we'd sat there just admiring the sight of the rain-lashed streets below us till Mansi couldn't resist the urge to pick up at my brains again! ;-)
By the time I parted ways with my classmate who was my fellow-refugee, I was flooded with images from those wonderful days. It feels like yesterday, yet so far-away and so out-of-reach. I never thought I'd say this, but I love monsoons - the good Bombay variety, which spell heavy downpours, skies over-cast with dark grey clouds for days at ends with no hint of sunshine, the dampness which permeates homes, wet clothes and musty smells, flooded roads, chaotic traffic et al.
While my father would say all this calls for a cup of steaming elaichi chai and pakodas, I call for a big mug of steaming cappucino and a massive salami sandwich dripping with mayonnaise! I believe they call this a generation-gap ;-) On that note, I bid all of thee adieu and a good monsoon this year!
(Meanwhile a story brews to perfection in my head and I shall sit me down and type furiously away till I have carved out my newest creation to my satisfaction...)
Monday, May 02, 2005
Questioning, Endless questioning...
Back from Delhi and still trying to get back into routine - it's wierd, I slipped back into my usual routine within a day when I got back from from Germany after three months of more-or-less independant living, different lifestyle, not to mention quite a bit of traveling in the last three weeks of my stay there. But a week away from home unsettles me much more and I end up taking nearly two-three days to settle down...and while I'm doing that I indulge in an array of melancholic thoughts that inevitably lead the way to introspection, self-questioning and sometimes downright depression as I wonder where I'm headed.
In Delhi, my uncle who's been an astrologer ever since he retired as a Principal of an Engineering college, told me that I have a very stubborn personality and once I have a particular vision in my head I refuse to veer from my path, no matter how many other opportunities are thrown my way and no matter how good and enticing they may be. I hated to admit it to him, but he was so right - I've been indulging in exactly that for the past six months and I sometimes wonder at my wisdom in these actions. Yet I know I would never be happy doing any of those things that came my way - and I simply refuse to settle for something I haven't wanted/planned for. A bit too early in life to compromising on dreams, isn't it?
Questioning, endless questioning. Does it really bring us any answers? And if it does, are we really satisfied with the answers we get? Sometimes I think if we just stopped looking so desperately for these answers that we seem to be perennially seeking, if we simply paused in this relentless quest for the meaning in our life, and just "be", we'd probably find the answers have always been right there.
Faced with a dilemma once again. Disappointed once again by a friend, in whom I put in way too much faith way too soon. Why do I set myself up for the fall each time? I thought I'd learnt the lesson the last time. But, no, I didn't. So who do I blame?
Yet another question.
I need to read something invigorating and exciting - the two books I'm crawling through aren't doing anything to excite my grey cells - Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco and The Way of All Flesh by Samuel Butler.
Gwen Stephanie's "Holla Back Girl" - I liketh! Very cool, very danceable number! Need to find a bakra who will download some songs for me, or else go on a major music-shopping spree. Wonder which will happen first?
In Delhi, my uncle who's been an astrologer ever since he retired as a Principal of an Engineering college, told me that I have a very stubborn personality and once I have a particular vision in my head I refuse to veer from my path, no matter how many other opportunities are thrown my way and no matter how good and enticing they may be. I hated to admit it to him, but he was so right - I've been indulging in exactly that for the past six months and I sometimes wonder at my wisdom in these actions. Yet I know I would never be happy doing any of those things that came my way - and I simply refuse to settle for something I haven't wanted/planned for. A bit too early in life to compromising on dreams, isn't it?
Questioning, endless questioning. Does it really bring us any answers? And if it does, are we really satisfied with the answers we get? Sometimes I think if we just stopped looking so desperately for these answers that we seem to be perennially seeking, if we simply paused in this relentless quest for the meaning in our life, and just "be", we'd probably find the answers have always been right there.
Faced with a dilemma once again. Disappointed once again by a friend, in whom I put in way too much faith way too soon. Why do I set myself up for the fall each time? I thought I'd learnt the lesson the last time. But, no, I didn't. So who do I blame?
Yet another question.
I need to read something invigorating and exciting - the two books I'm crawling through aren't doing anything to excite my grey cells - Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco and The Way of All Flesh by Samuel Butler.
Gwen Stephanie's "Holla Back Girl" - I liketh! Very cool, very danceable number! Need to find a bakra who will download some songs for me, or else go on a major music-shopping spree. Wonder which will happen first?
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