A pattern has developed over the last few days - I wake up to a nice enough morning - dew on the grass in the lawn opposite my building, the road vaguely wet, but mostly dry, a gentle breeze blowing my curtains aside to let the morning light filter into my room. It gets hot later in the day; infact it's quite unbearably hot. And then come the clouds blowing in from the North East and within an hour the sky has gone from azure to grey. Torrential rains follow, the strong winds blowing in from the East...an hour later everything is thoroughly drenched.
And so it was on Saturday evening that my mother and I got down on our way to run some errands. A neighbour warned us to venture out cautiously since many roads were getting flooded. Dismissing her statements as pure exaggeration we got into out car and asked the chauffeur to take us to the Supermarket - we did cross this patch of water around 2 ft deep, but that patch gets water-logged with the slightest of rains so didn't give it any thought. Little did we know, that half and hour later my brother would call asking us not to even try heading home, but to head over to my uncle's place instead. As he was approaching our society, he saw a huge mass of water gushing down the slope towards him and had the quickness of mind to turn quickly onto a slightly elevated ground and park the car there. Wise, for the cars behind him got stuck in 4 ft water in their attempt to beat the water. We finished our chores and headed to my uncle's place and my father also joined us there - and there we stayed till the 5 ft deep water receded. My brother waited outside for nearly 2 hours, then finally gave up and waded towards our building in waist-deep water....apparently Manjari Meadows which is higher up than Mundhwa got flooded and so the people broke down walls there to allow the accumulated water to get out - and it all came gushing down the village towards our residential society, only to get stalled by the walls. It took nearly 4 hours for the water-level to come down - after villagers whose houses had been completely ruined descended on our society and made holes in the compound wall that was holding the water back... (got me thinking about the Torrential Tuesday in Bombay and how awful it must have been for those people when they couldn't get home for over 24 hours. Just a few hours away from home and I was restless - even though it was my uncle's place and I've stayed over so many times before! Also got me thinking once more about the crazy 'development' that Pune is going through and what kind of a city/nation we are 'building' for ourselves...)
That was one flood - meanwhile I've spent the weekend rummaging through the carton of our old photographs and trying to put them in some kind of an order and put them in albums, so that they don't get ruined with each time someone goes thumbing through them...plus I love doing this kind of stuff, and I think it's so much nicer to flip through albums seeing the gradual progress/change/evolution in life. It's kinda crazy doing this, because albums have been made previously with other photos, so by the time I end we'll probably have a couple of albums with similar date-lines! Anyway all the rummaging has got me flooded with memories from the past - some rather vague pictures, some very clear pictures. Pictures of a certain time bring back memories of events in my life of which I may not have photographs, but the images flooding my mind are just as clear.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Bombay Samachar
Bombay Samachar, established in 1822 by Fardoonjee Marzban, was the first vernacular newspaper to be set up in Bombay. (Even Wikipedia gives it a short mention.) Incidentally the first printing press was brought into Bombay in the 1670s by a Parsi businessman and Bombay's first English newspaper started nearly a hundred years later was also the result of a Parsi stalwart.
The headquarter of Bombay Samachar, located in Fort (around the corner from Indian Mercantile Chambers, not far from Strand Bookstall or Bombay Stores) is housed in a red building that's over a century old and boasts strong wooden beams that don't show any sign of decay despite their rather advanced age. I spent some hours in their Circulation Department on a wild goose hunt for an ancient Public Notice - and was amazed at how the office was organised.
The last time I entered a newspaper office, it was to walk out an hour later a little surprised at how uncluttered it looked and how none of the staff, with a rather high "I'm cool" quotient, was over 40. But that was the editorial department of a newspaper that's going through some drastic changes in order to boost its rather sagging sales. Bombay Samachar is nothing like that. It resembles by all means and purposes a typical old, bureaucratic Indian office.
The building may have had a classic fully-loaded Cadillac parked outside, but the entry is definitely not carpeted. Rather I felt like I was entering a warehouse of sorts. Up I went round a winding creaking staircase (the ones I am terrified of slipping through!) into a dingy, musty corridor. As I peaked into the first room, a peon surfaced from his morning nap to ask me where I wanted to go. "Purane newspapers kahan milenge," I asked. He pointed towards another room and I walked into a high-ceilinged musty room cluttered with files, and atleast six people, none of which were doing anything productive. I asked to be given access to their archives and was told to address the last man sitting in the line, one who was browsing through a film magazine. He pointed me back towards the first person I'd addressed, who then told me to sit down and yelled out to Ramji. When Ramji finally appeared 5 minutes later, I was asked which months and year I wanted to start with and Ramji was asked to bring out the concerned file.
I was there with my father, and since they could spare only 1 chair for us (despite the fact that 3 chairs at unoccupied throughout the time I was in that office and 2 others were unoccupied for most of the time) I stood while we searched through the newspapers of autumn-winter 1987. It was interesting for me to be flipping through the newspapers even though most of the content was in Gujurati, which I do not know! The adverts back then were so unsophisticated as compared to what we have today - ofcourse even back then women were used to pedal everything from women's clothing to jewellery, from holidays in Kerala to estate agents in downtown Bombay! Most of the models either had huge hairdos a la Madhuri Dixit as a newcomer, or these wierd beehives stuck at peculiar angles on their heads, or towels wrapped around their heads! And the reigning model seemed to be Sangeeta Bijlani - remember her? The Sunday newspaper had much more English content, with several pages dedicated to the achievements of Parsis and a double spread of comic strips - in colour!
Four months worth newspapers later, I had dusty blackened fingertips and a terrible back-ache; it was lunch time so the female clerk waiting for the others to return finally took pity on me and told me to rest my backside on a stool. When her 'boss' returned, she had to pay for her grave mistake. The man, as far as I could make out has nothing to do but read magazines and harass her...if he wasn't making flirtatious remarks that she tried her best to ignore, he was chastising her for not being efficient enough. How I itched to slap him...and ensure his unemployment for the rest of his life.
Luckily my father decided to abandon the search after we'd gone through 2 more months and said he'd find another way of achieving the desired end. After waiting 10 minutes for the designated clerk to return, we quickly paid him Rs.54 for accessing 3 files and made our way out into the sunlight and open air...as I took in deep gulps of the 'fresh' air, an employee of the newspaper walked out. He nodded at me, turned around and pointed at the building proudly - and informed me proudly that I was standing outside the office of the oldest existing Indian newspaper. He went onto to lecture me on the importance of preserving such old buildings and ensuring that old newspapers like this one don't disappear because of lack of funds, readership or efficient management and then just before we parted ways at the end of the street...he told me that I should go in to see the office and browse through the archives. :-)
The headquarter of Bombay Samachar, located in Fort (around the corner from Indian Mercantile Chambers, not far from Strand Bookstall or Bombay Stores) is housed in a red building that's over a century old and boasts strong wooden beams that don't show any sign of decay despite their rather advanced age. I spent some hours in their Circulation Department on a wild goose hunt for an ancient Public Notice - and was amazed at how the office was organised.
The last time I entered a newspaper office, it was to walk out an hour later a little surprised at how uncluttered it looked and how none of the staff, with a rather high "I'm cool" quotient, was over 40. But that was the editorial department of a newspaper that's going through some drastic changes in order to boost its rather sagging sales. Bombay Samachar is nothing like that. It resembles by all means and purposes a typical old, bureaucratic Indian office.
The building may have had a classic fully-loaded Cadillac parked outside, but the entry is definitely not carpeted. Rather I felt like I was entering a warehouse of sorts. Up I went round a winding creaking staircase (the ones I am terrified of slipping through!) into a dingy, musty corridor. As I peaked into the first room, a peon surfaced from his morning nap to ask me where I wanted to go. "Purane newspapers kahan milenge," I asked. He pointed towards another room and I walked into a high-ceilinged musty room cluttered with files, and atleast six people, none of which were doing anything productive. I asked to be given access to their archives and was told to address the last man sitting in the line, one who was browsing through a film magazine. He pointed me back towards the first person I'd addressed, who then told me to sit down and yelled out to Ramji. When Ramji finally appeared 5 minutes later, I was asked which months and year I wanted to start with and Ramji was asked to bring out the concerned file.
I was there with my father, and since they could spare only 1 chair for us (despite the fact that 3 chairs at unoccupied throughout the time I was in that office and 2 others were unoccupied for most of the time) I stood while we searched through the newspapers of autumn-winter 1987. It was interesting for me to be flipping through the newspapers even though most of the content was in Gujurati, which I do not know! The adverts back then were so unsophisticated as compared to what we have today - ofcourse even back then women were used to pedal everything from women's clothing to jewellery, from holidays in Kerala to estate agents in downtown Bombay! Most of the models either had huge hairdos a la Madhuri Dixit as a newcomer, or these wierd beehives stuck at peculiar angles on their heads, or towels wrapped around their heads! And the reigning model seemed to be Sangeeta Bijlani - remember her? The Sunday newspaper had much more English content, with several pages dedicated to the achievements of Parsis and a double spread of comic strips - in colour!
Four months worth newspapers later, I had dusty blackened fingertips and a terrible back-ache; it was lunch time so the female clerk waiting for the others to return finally took pity on me and told me to rest my backside on a stool. When her 'boss' returned, she had to pay for her grave mistake. The man, as far as I could make out has nothing to do but read magazines and harass her...if he wasn't making flirtatious remarks that she tried her best to ignore, he was chastising her for not being efficient enough. How I itched to slap him...and ensure his unemployment for the rest of his life.
Luckily my father decided to abandon the search after we'd gone through 2 more months and said he'd find another way of achieving the desired end. After waiting 10 minutes for the designated clerk to return, we quickly paid him Rs.54 for accessing 3 files and made our way out into the sunlight and open air...as I took in deep gulps of the 'fresh' air, an employee of the newspaper walked out. He nodded at me, turned around and pointed at the building proudly - and informed me proudly that I was standing outside the office of the oldest existing Indian newspaper. He went onto to lecture me on the importance of preserving such old buildings and ensuring that old newspapers like this one don't disappear because of lack of funds, readership or efficient management and then just before we parted ways at the end of the street...he told me that I should go in to see the office and browse through the archives. :-)
Monday, August 29, 2005
The Bombay Mosaic
Marine Drive. Fort. Bombay Samachar (est 1822). Cafe Mocambo. Pasta Salad. Gayatri. Heaven. Home. Mocha (Juhu). Bloggers and Blogwhores - or friends? Expensive wine (didn't we order something for Rs.400?), Fondue and 'Tapas'. Broke. Brunch with Amisha. Nice. Carter Road. Nicer. Andheri Station. Crowded as ever. Churchgate, Oval Maidan, High Court, University - will I ever get tired of the sight? Jahangir Art Gallery. Samovar. Sweet Lime Soda. Gateway of India. Garishly done up South Bombay homes v/s charming South Bombay homes. Indigo Delicatessen. Delicious. Classy. Very Kunal and me :-) Dessert and Coffee at Cafe Basilica - Cranberry Cheese Cake. Scrumpilicious. Heavenly. Back home - exhausted, content. Slept like a log. Breakfast at Woodstock - Macchi Maar with mom's close friend. Gazing from their 11th floor apartment facing the sea, awash with memories of a rainy morning not so long ago :-) Strand Sale, next to Alma Mater (Arya Vidya Mandir Juhu) - very very tempting to splurge. Picked up books on design for big bro, baby books for nephew (his first books from Bookie Bua!) ...and had to curb my own purchases! It's ok - it's not the last Strand Sale ;-) Long wait for one-time student, now friend Shivaji (no he's not Maharashtrian - he's Bengali!). Coffee at Barista. Bike ride to Andheri Station. Quick rendezvous with Aparna - thanks again girl! Prithvi for Sweet Lime Soda and Momos with Shivaji (again). Simple but delicious dinner at Pizza Casa - Versova. Company? Kunal ofcourse - don't know anybody apart from us who actually eat at the place! Early night - earlier morning. Caught the 6.45 am bus back to Pune! YAWN!
Current mood - Content as a Cheshire Cat. Hear that purring in the background? That's me:-)
Current mood - Content as a Cheshire Cat. Hear that purring in the background? That's me:-)
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Eklavya
One of my University professors was also a story-teller. She often does story-telling sessions (often contrapuntal) of fairy tales for children and is an excellent orator. So when some of us weren't too sure of a particular myth, she'd clap her hands togther, ask us to sit back in our chairs and announce "Story-time..." It's been a while since I heard that, but I know how much fun it can be, so here goes - Story-time folks!
Once upon a time there was a young man named Eklavya, who wanted to become the greatest archer of all time. Since he couldn't afford a tutor, he made an idol of the best tutor in the world, Draunacharya, and began practising archery in front of this idol. Now in India, a tutor (Guru) is revered like a God, so Eklavya would place flowers at the idol's feet and pray to this idol everyday before beginning the day's practice. Soon he became the most skilled archer around - on seeing proof of his skill, Draunacharya started feeling insecure that this boy whose background itself was suspect would rise above his own favourite student Arjuna. Tormented by the thought, he decided to exploit the boy's unwavering faith and loyalty to him - as a Guru he could demand Guru-dakshina (payment) at the end of the period of teaching. Draunacharya asked Eklavya to give his the thumb of his right-hand - and such was Eklavya's devotion to his Guru, that without a second's thought, he sliced of his thumb and humbly placed it at his Guru's feet.
(For a slightly less firang sounding version - read this.
This is one of the most popular stories to go around on the occassion of Teacher's Day - but I'm not recounting this tale to you to inspire in you feelings of utmost devotion and respect for teachers - if you ask me Eklavya should have shown him his middle finger instead of unflinchingly cutting off his own thumb and thus ensuring a life of unemployment and frustration for himself. ;-)
Since my examinations got over, I've been a little more helpful in the kitchen - not something I do willingly. It helps ofcourse that my brother is trying to cut down on his weight and has gone on a diet of salads and soups for lunch - an area of interest and relative expertise, as compared to the others in the house. So I step into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to slice the veggies, shred the chicken, toss the dressing, stir the soup...and get my brother's lunch ready before he leaves for work. On Monday, it was cabbage and apple with chives.
So there I was merrily slicing the cabbage nice and fine...slice slice slice and I neatly sliced my thumb along with the cabbage.
After much pain, blodd-loss and cursing those who don't make their own salads, I got my thumb bandaged. And then began the ordeal-
How does one eat food when the thumb of your right-hand is incapacitated? How does one prise open stubborn lids of air-tight boxes? How does one play with a boisterous dog? Or with a baby who thinks that all thumbs in vicinity must be grabbed hold of and stuck into the mouth? How does accept calls on cellphones/cordless phones? How the hell does one type text messages?
Sure, Eklavya didn't have to deal with most of these things, though as a man I'm sure he had to deal with other issues that I needn't be worried about ;-) Two days with a slightly incapacitated thumb and I'm climbing walls in frustration. Boy, does that man have my sympathies!
Once upon a time there was a young man named Eklavya, who wanted to become the greatest archer of all time. Since he couldn't afford a tutor, he made an idol of the best tutor in the world, Draunacharya, and began practising archery in front of this idol. Now in India, a tutor (Guru) is revered like a God, so Eklavya would place flowers at the idol's feet and pray to this idol everyday before beginning the day's practice. Soon he became the most skilled archer around - on seeing proof of his skill, Draunacharya started feeling insecure that this boy whose background itself was suspect would rise above his own favourite student Arjuna. Tormented by the thought, he decided to exploit the boy's unwavering faith and loyalty to him - as a Guru he could demand Guru-dakshina (payment) at the end of the period of teaching. Draunacharya asked Eklavya to give his the thumb of his right-hand - and such was Eklavya's devotion to his Guru, that without a second's thought, he sliced of his thumb and humbly placed it at his Guru's feet.
(For a slightly less firang sounding version - read this.
This is one of the most popular stories to go around on the occassion of Teacher's Day - but I'm not recounting this tale to you to inspire in you feelings of utmost devotion and respect for teachers - if you ask me Eklavya should have shown him his middle finger instead of unflinchingly cutting off his own thumb and thus ensuring a life of unemployment and frustration for himself. ;-)
Since my examinations got over, I've been a little more helpful in the kitchen - not something I do willingly. It helps ofcourse that my brother is trying to cut down on his weight and has gone on a diet of salads and soups for lunch - an area of interest and relative expertise, as compared to the others in the house. So I step into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to slice the veggies, shred the chicken, toss the dressing, stir the soup...and get my brother's lunch ready before he leaves for work. On Monday, it was cabbage and apple with chives.
So there I was merrily slicing the cabbage nice and fine...slice slice slice and I neatly sliced my thumb along with the cabbage.
After much pain, blodd-loss and cursing those who don't make their own salads, I got my thumb bandaged. And then began the ordeal-
How does one eat food when the thumb of your right-hand is incapacitated? How does one prise open stubborn lids of air-tight boxes? How does one play with a boisterous dog? Or with a baby who thinks that all thumbs in vicinity must be grabbed hold of and stuck into the mouth? How does accept calls on cellphones/cordless phones? How the hell does one type text messages?
Sure, Eklavya didn't have to deal with most of these things, though as a man I'm sure he had to deal with other issues that I needn't be worried about ;-) Two days with a slightly incapacitated thumb and I'm climbing walls in frustration. Boy, does that man have my sympathies!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
What Next?
So the exam has been taken - and almost forgotten by now! Never been one to conduct a post-mortem of any exam, specially since it goes against my philosophy about exams...so haven't done that this time either. But now that Diplome Superieur is behind me and the results can only be expected by end September (at the earliest)...I am wondering what next...
Should I succumb to the temptation of picking up another language or start hunting for a 'proper' (read full-time employment with regular pay-checks) job?
Should I succumb to the temptation of picking up another language or start hunting for a 'proper' (read full-time employment with regular pay-checks) job?
Currently:
- Reading Short Stories by Rabindranath Tagore
- Listening to Shakti - Lotus Feet
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Mirror Mirror on The Wall...
Don't tell me who's the fairest of them all...
But, pray tell me, why why why
Women must insist on acting coy and innocent,
And thus try and manipulate others,
When the one facing them can see through them,
And hasn't the patience for such acts...
Why why why
Do they thus merrily malign the reputation of our gender?
But, pray tell me, why why why
Women must insist on acting coy and innocent,
And thus try and manipulate others,
When the one facing them can see through them,
And hasn't the patience for such acts...
Why why why
Do they thus merrily malign the reputation of our gender?
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Bill-dill-blip-boo
I've never been one of those things you meet who coo at the very sight of anything below the age of 10 years and exclaim at how cute a baby is, irrespective of the fact that they've not even caught a glimpse of the baby yet or the fact that the baby is not so cute as it is a pain in the neck!;-) Infact,as I've said on this blog before, I usually start relating to my nieces and nephews once they've crossed the 10 year-mark, so when people questioned me abou how my feelings regarding the baby that was soon to join our family, I hadn't the faintest clue how to respond and generally offered rather non-commital responses from the book!
When my nephew Shaurya was born, for the first one month I didn't really have any feelings towards him. He existed. So did I. Beyond that, there was little interaction between us, specially since he slept alot, and when he was awake he was usually surrounded by an assortment of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...so, me being me, rationalised that he doesn't really recognise anyone so no point me joining the crowd and robbing him of much needed oyygen, not to mention ignoring other things that needed to be done.
But things gradually settled down at home - his maternal relatives went back to where they came from, giving me more opportunities to spend time qith him alone. He also started staying awake longer and displaying signs of a rapidly developing strong personality - he is a Shrivastava after all! And thus I began taking my first baby steps towards the tiny squalling, squirming bundle that smelled of milk most of the time! We had an agreement on sorts - as long as he was content, we'd keep each other company, but at the slightest signs of downslide in moods he'd promptly be transferred to more capable arms!
Oft he'd wake me up with his incessant bawling in the middle of the afternoon (or worse, night!) and give me much grief when he'd create a royal ruccus just when I'd started concentrating on something....and I'd groan thinking Vikram Seth was right in wondering why people are so crazy about babies -
I'd wearily drag myself out of my room and trudge over to see what was bothering him and why the mother and grandmother hadn't swung into action...only to discover two helpless women trying to figure out what this tiny male was upset about. Wasn't he too young to be causing them such grief? Ahem? Then, just as suddenly as he started crying, he would stop, peering over a comfortable female shoulder, his head bobbing around and break into a big toothless smile and declare his affection with a loud "Mbooo"...and I'd just stand there looking at him helplessly torn between the urge to go back to what I was doing, or take the smelly, funny bundle into my arms and give him a hug!
In the last one month, he has started conversing alot and he's quite verbose, when he isn't trying to figure out how to put his thumb in his mouth - he IS my nephew after all! At a few days short of three months old, he is one talkative dude! I've decided that he's going to grow up a mulit-linguist. He is going to be bi-lingual right from infance with his family speaking to him in a mix of Hindi and English, and he will definitely learn Marathi is he grows up in Pune. But, he's also going to pick up French from none other than Bua Constrictor a.k.a Bookie Bua who will ensure he reads alot and grows up to be a fine young man!
Below is an excerpt of a conversation I had with him:
Me: Hey hey dude, wassup in da hood?
Shaurya Shrivastava: *Gurgle* Phrrrrr!!
Me: Hmmm...interesting. Et quoi d'autre? (And what else?)
SS: Bill bill dill blip...
Me: Ah c'est cool. Mon jours n'etait pas si interessant...le cours etait assez ennuyant. Mais j'ai beaucoup bavarde aves mes amies...elles sont cool.Tu comprends? (Ah that's cool. My day wasn't as interesting...the class was quite boring. But I gossipped alot with my friends...they are cool. You understand?)
SS: Booo...blip blip...*Big smile*
Me (Folding his legs up against his tummy, just like he likes it) Ah, c'est un sourire sans dents! (Oh that's a toothless smile)
SS: *Laughs in delight*
Me: Ah, c'est un rire sans dents! (Ah, that's a toothless laugh)
SS: Mbooo...blip..dill..dill...
Me: Et...c'est un garcon sans dents...quel beau garcon est-il!(And that's a toothless boy...what a handsome boy he is!)
SS: Boooo...
He and I get along quite well, I think! :-)
When my nephew Shaurya was born, for the first one month I didn't really have any feelings towards him. He existed. So did I. Beyond that, there was little interaction between us, specially since he slept alot, and when he was awake he was usually surrounded by an assortment of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles...so, me being me, rationalised that he doesn't really recognise anyone so no point me joining the crowd and robbing him of much needed oyygen, not to mention ignoring other things that needed to be done.
But things gradually settled down at home - his maternal relatives went back to where they came from, giving me more opportunities to spend time qith him alone. He also started staying awake longer and displaying signs of a rapidly developing strong personality - he is a Shrivastava after all! And thus I began taking my first baby steps towards the tiny squalling, squirming bundle that smelled of milk most of the time! We had an agreement on sorts - as long as he was content, we'd keep each other company, but at the slightest signs of downslide in moods he'd promptly be transferred to more capable arms!
Oft he'd wake me up with his incessant bawling in the middle of the afternoon (or worse, night!) and give me much grief when he'd create a royal ruccus just when I'd started concentrating on something....and I'd groan thinking Vikram Seth was right in wondering why people are so crazy about babies -
"Those idiots with insistent ids
Who yowl when their unbridled bids
For love or milk go unregarded
For seven seconds - or who bawl
For no substantial cause at all..."
Who yowl when their unbridled bids
For love or milk go unregarded
For seven seconds - or who bawl
For no substantial cause at all..."
I'd wearily drag myself out of my room and trudge over to see what was bothering him and why the mother and grandmother hadn't swung into action...only to discover two helpless women trying to figure out what this tiny male was upset about. Wasn't he too young to be causing them such grief? Ahem? Then, just as suddenly as he started crying, he would stop, peering over a comfortable female shoulder, his head bobbing around and break into a big toothless smile and declare his affection with a loud "Mbooo"...and I'd just stand there looking at him helplessly torn between the urge to go back to what I was doing, or take the smelly, funny bundle into my arms and give him a hug!
In the last one month, he has started conversing alot and he's quite verbose, when he isn't trying to figure out how to put his thumb in his mouth - he IS my nephew after all! At a few days short of three months old, he is one talkative dude! I've decided that he's going to grow up a mulit-linguist. He is going to be bi-lingual right from infance with his family speaking to him in a mix of Hindi and English, and he will definitely learn Marathi is he grows up in Pune. But, he's also going to pick up French from none other than Bua Constrictor a.k.a Bookie Bua who will ensure he reads alot and grows up to be a fine young man!
Below is an excerpt of a conversation I had with him:
Me: Hey hey dude, wassup in da hood?
Shaurya Shrivastava: *Gurgle* Phrrrrr!!
Me: Hmmm...interesting. Et quoi d'autre? (And what else?)
SS: Bill bill dill blip...
Me: Ah c'est cool. Mon jours n'etait pas si interessant...le cours etait assez ennuyant. Mais j'ai beaucoup bavarde aves mes amies...elles sont cool.Tu comprends? (Ah that's cool. My day wasn't as interesting...the class was quite boring. But I gossipped alot with my friends...they are cool. You understand?)
SS: Booo...blip blip...*Big smile*
Me (Folding his legs up against his tummy, just like he likes it) Ah, c'est un sourire sans dents! (Oh that's a toothless smile)
SS: *Laughs in delight*
Me: Ah, c'est un rire sans dents! (Ah, that's a toothless laugh)
SS: Mbooo...blip..dill..dill...
Me: Et...c'est un garcon sans dents...quel beau garcon est-il!(And that's a toothless boy...what a handsome boy he is!)
SS: Boooo...
He and I get along quite well, I think! :-)
Friday, August 05, 2005
Disclaimer
The post below is by no means meant to sound erudite, or a revelation of sorts. It was merely my rather indirect way of saying I'm back to normal and that those clouds casting shadows on my mood have been dispersed for now...the blog is, and always has been, mere random rambling by me and nothing remotely elitist or philosophic - God is my witness that philiosophy was never (and still isn't) my favourite subject!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Hmmm...
Last weekend was a slow weekend, and I indulged in alot of soul-searching, probing deep within the recesses of my mind, not to mention my heart, hunting for answers. I still haven't the answers to most of my questions, but as a friend said, why fret over what is yet to come, and more so, over what isn't in your control. Yes yes I know that...but sometimes you just have to stop and question. Would we ever get any answers if we didn't ever stop to ask?
Not all the questions were narcissitic - some leaned towards a more social issue. Traditions die. Conventions evolve. Societies metamorphise. It's the way of life - change is the only thing that is constant. Our own society has seen some very drastic changes in the last 5 years or so...and sometimes I find myself thinking like one of the elder generation and wondering where we are headed and questioning the merits of these changes.
I had opportunity to remark on a couple of these changes over the last few days:-
A friend has commented several times on my attire, when it happens to be Indian - I refer here to Salwar-kurtas, not clothes manufactured in India ;-) For him (yes it's obviously a man who'd comment on something of the sort) it is a 'formal attire' - and this he says is because everywhere he sees, women are increasingly seen in Western clothes - be it in college, cafes/restaurants/pubs/lounges, offices or just at home. When they do 'condescend' to wear a more 'traditional' attire it is invairably for a formal situation. When he first commented on this topic, I thought him off the rockers, for I know quite a few women in the 20s who don't live in just jeans/trousers. However since then I have started noticing - and it is true to quite an extent. There have even been times when I'm sitting in the food-court of a popular multiplex and apart from the Auntys (read 40+ women with a couple of children in tow) I am the only woman in a salwar-kurta. Not that I mind - I find the salwar-kurta just as comfortable as my faded, old jeans, or my skirts. Infact I love that slightly added bit of feminine grace the attire lends to my appearance when I don my kurtas...but it's also true that I think the Saree is to be brought out only for formal occasions, even while my mother finds herself at ease in Sarees and wears them most of the time.
Over the weekend I had to attend a Satyanarayan Katha and pooja - to which a dear friend commented that I seem to be suddenly attending too many of these 'religious thingys'. No, not the same friend, a different guy this time ;-) I objected loudly at the time, but it's funny how we ourselves have had two Satayanarayan Kathas since we moved to Pune, not to mention have attended atleast five and had a couple of traditional ceremonies held at home...I can't even remember the last time we had a Satyanarayan Katha in Bombay, or for that matter attended one! Anyways am digressing - the point being, that there I was, sitting in the Katha and most of the women around me - for some inexplicable reason we continue to sit in two groups of the "ladies" and "gents" during all such occasions - were a generation elder to me. They started discussing the various Kathas, Kirtans, Bhajans and Poojas being held in our residential complex during the course of the week. My first reaction to this was quite hilarious and not very pertinent to the issue - and then I started thinking about how women of that generation use the excuse of such 'religious thingys' to get out of the house and socialise. Perhaps it's the influence of being brought up in an atmosphere where we never gave much importance to religious rites and functions, holding that it's more important to be true to oneself and be a decent human being - but I simply couldn't see myself having a similar discussion when I reached their age. Which made me wonder whether it is because most of us know so little about these things that used to be such an important part of our culture, our very existence...and how I'd feel if these things just ceased existing. I may not give them much importance, and question them unceasingly, but yet...
Currently :-
Not all the questions were narcissitic - some leaned towards a more social issue. Traditions die. Conventions evolve. Societies metamorphise. It's the way of life - change is the only thing that is constant. Our own society has seen some very drastic changes in the last 5 years or so...and sometimes I find myself thinking like one of the elder generation and wondering where we are headed and questioning the merits of these changes.
I had opportunity to remark on a couple of these changes over the last few days:-
A friend has commented several times on my attire, when it happens to be Indian - I refer here to Salwar-kurtas, not clothes manufactured in India ;-) For him (yes it's obviously a man who'd comment on something of the sort) it is a 'formal attire' - and this he says is because everywhere he sees, women are increasingly seen in Western clothes - be it in college, cafes/restaurants/pubs/lounges, offices or just at home. When they do 'condescend' to wear a more 'traditional' attire it is invairably for a formal situation. When he first commented on this topic, I thought him off the rockers, for I know quite a few women in the 20s who don't live in just jeans/trousers. However since then I have started noticing - and it is true to quite an extent. There have even been times when I'm sitting in the food-court of a popular multiplex and apart from the Auntys (read 40+ women with a couple of children in tow) I am the only woman in a salwar-kurta. Not that I mind - I find the salwar-kurta just as comfortable as my faded, old jeans, or my skirts. Infact I love that slightly added bit of feminine grace the attire lends to my appearance when I don my kurtas...but it's also true that I think the Saree is to be brought out only for formal occasions, even while my mother finds herself at ease in Sarees and wears them most of the time.
Over the weekend I had to attend a Satyanarayan Katha and pooja - to which a dear friend commented that I seem to be suddenly attending too many of these 'religious thingys'. No, not the same friend, a different guy this time ;-) I objected loudly at the time, but it's funny how we ourselves have had two Satayanarayan Kathas since we moved to Pune, not to mention have attended atleast five and had a couple of traditional ceremonies held at home...I can't even remember the last time we had a Satyanarayan Katha in Bombay, or for that matter attended one! Anyways am digressing - the point being, that there I was, sitting in the Katha and most of the women around me - for some inexplicable reason we continue to sit in two groups of the "ladies" and "gents" during all such occasions - were a generation elder to me. They started discussing the various Kathas, Kirtans, Bhajans and Poojas being held in our residential complex during the course of the week. My first reaction to this was quite hilarious and not very pertinent to the issue - and then I started thinking about how women of that generation use the excuse of such 'religious thingys' to get out of the house and socialise. Perhaps it's the influence of being brought up in an atmosphere where we never gave much importance to religious rites and functions, holding that it's more important to be true to oneself and be a decent human being - but I simply couldn't see myself having a similar discussion when I reached their age. Which made me wonder whether it is because most of us know so little about these things that used to be such an important part of our culture, our very existence...and how I'd feel if these things just ceased existing. I may not give them much importance, and question them unceasingly, but yet...
Currently :-
- Reading - Guy de Maupassant
Listening to - One Wild Night - Bon Jovi
Monday, August 01, 2005
Stormy Weather...
While the the weather outside continues to remain wet, dismal and dreary, a storm is raging inside of me - questions unanswered that need to be answered. Yet I have little hope of getting answers any time soon...and that makes me feel frustrated. I'm fed-up. Fed-up of waiting for things to fall into place. I'm scared. Scared my plans will back-fire. I'm clinging. Clinging onto dreams and hopes. And I'm hoping. Hoping I don't fail...
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
It's Raining, It's Pouring...
For all those of you, who've been following the news (closely or not) the deluge in Maharashtra that has caught most people unaware and has created a pandemonium like never before in Bombay, and parts of the Konkan region, this post comes a little late. I thought I'd refrain from posting about it lest someone complain loudly about my ridiculous obsession with the Mumbai monsoons and the romantic nuances of this season (yes, even when there are landslides, floods, and people are stranded in offices/schools/colleges/friend's homes/roads I find a certain romantic strain to this weather)...
But I couldn't resist. More so, since I have been told to sit at home like a good girl and not think of venturing out in such weather - pleading that Pune rains are non-existent in comparison to Bombay rains didn't help my cause, for I was kindly reminded that Bombay has an excellent public transport system that fails only when the Rain Gods unleash their complete and undiminished wrath on the city - that doesn't hold true for Pune. And then ofcourse the gentle reminder that I maybe up and about and prancing around like a gay deer once again, but the congestion is still there and I can't risk getting wet and/or falling sick again - so here I am marooned at home and with nothing to do but contemplate this season's best (or worst, depending on your perspective) display...and here's a random toss-up of scenes I saw on the news or heard about from friends and folks in Bombay or similarly rain-affected regions in our own friendly neighbourhood next IT destination:-
But I couldn't resist. More so, since I have been told to sit at home like a good girl and not think of venturing out in such weather - pleading that Pune rains are non-existent in comparison to Bombay rains didn't help my cause, for I was kindly reminded that Bombay has an excellent public transport system that fails only when the Rain Gods unleash their complete and undiminished wrath on the city - that doesn't hold true for Pune. And then ofcourse the gentle reminder that I maybe up and about and prancing around like a gay deer once again, but the congestion is still there and I can't risk getting wet and/or falling sick again - so here I am marooned at home and with nothing to do but contemplate this season's best (or worst, depending on your perspective) display...and here's a random toss-up of scenes I saw on the news or heard about from friends and folks in Bombay or similarly rain-affected regions in our own friendly neighbourhood next IT destination:-
- "The bridges in Pune are submerged under water. Those who haven't crossed the Sangam bridge as yet will have to stay in their offices" - ahem. First bit of rather exaggerated news about the state of affairs in Pune. It rained, but we weren't exactly submerged under water and commuting by waterways!
- Bombay has recorded 940 mm of rain this season - having broken records of even Cherapunji, which recorded the highest of 830 mm in 1910! Now if that ain't BREAKING NEWS I don't know what is! It takes a downpour of this magnitude to bring that awesome city to a standstill - and even then, doesn't break the spirit of the city! A reporter who hails from Delhi remarked on how well the people are coping with the calamity - hear hear!!
- The roads in Andheri West have been transformed into meandering rivers, as have the roads in several other quartiers in Bombay - verified on phone from friends and family in Tinsel Town and by our gleeful news reporters who are merrily blaming the 'prashasan' for the chaos that rules Bombay at the moment.
- Thousands of people spent the night on the road yesterday - stranded in cars or other modes of transport, kilometers away from their own home or from those of friends/family. Thousands others waded (that isn't a typo- they waded, didn't walk) their way home - taking hours at end to cross an area just 1-15 minutes away from home.
- My cousins had varying experiences - one cousin spent most of the evening and night in a bus and reached home at 4 am. His wife, was stranded in Goregaon and got a message that her father-in-law was stuck nearby - before cellphones networks got jammed - she was lucky enough to find him and they spent half the night in the car, inching their way towards home.
- Yet another cousin waited too long to leave work and spent the night in his office, since the railway tracks were flooded with more than 6" of water and the local train services were shut down till water levels receded.
- Areas that never got flooded several years ago, have been experiencing ankle-length water-logging for the past few years (I'm sorry if I offend someone when I place the blame for this directly on the public who support road-side vendors and turn a blind-eye to the use of storm-water drains as garbage-canals - if the BMC has a job to do, so do you as citizens of this planet). This year the areas experienced flooding - I'm talking waist-high water in most areas and water that went as high as 5' in others and reached the 1st floor in yet others...
- Many areas experienced power-cuts and telephone lines are down, while cellphone networks are hopelessly jammed. So are roads - people are stranded at airports and railway stations; hotels are overflowing.
- Children who attend the afternoon shift were stranded in Podar school, without electricity and adequate food. Apparently harassed school authorities finally put phones off the hook so that they could focus on calming the kids down, instead of answering to frantic queries from parents and guardians...
- My friend spent the night at a colleague's place after his own building got flooded, making it impossible for him to go home - keeping in mind his paranoia about rains and water (he hails from Rajasthan and must be excused since such a phenomenon is very alien to him), it must have been quite bad for him to agree to spend a night without access to internet! ;-)
- A distant relation was stuck in Chiplun for a couple of days after the route to Goa got blocked by a landslide - her husband and brother rushed to rescue her, and now all three are trying to make their way back from Ratnagiri, even while the NH is submerged under water in certain sections! Adventure galore!
- Pune seems to be limping back to normal today - am still grouchy about having to spend the day at home with nothing to do but study! Even the fact that I've got my computer back after a week isn't making me feel too delighted about this house-arrest...think I'll go make myself a cup of steaming Cappucino flavoured with Cinnamon and try and cheer myself up :-)
And latest news :- A fire broke out on an ONGC oil rig 150 km from Bombay, in the middle of the Arabian Sea, surrounded by water, even while it continues to pour!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
It's Raining Movies
I'm someone who isn't a movie-buff and has rarely ever felt the desire to watch the latest block-buster (and still continue to avoid most of them!). I'm someone who hasn't seen the landmark films of all time and is blissfully content with that state of things - I'm probably the only person alive who hasn't seen The Godfather and continues to resist the movie, despite innumerable recommendations, gentle hints and threats of dire consequences on not watching it! And then ofcourse there are those well-meaning friends who castigate me for wasting the money my folks have sunk into my education by not having seen that particular movie! Muhahah - priceless!;-) This isn't the only landmark movie that I haven't seen - there are many more! Sometimes I think I stick to my stubborn refusal of watching them, just so I can relish the look of complete shock on people's faces when I blithely announce I haven't the faintest clue what they are talking about because I haven't seen the film!
And so, for such a person, it's more than a little disconcerting to be suddenly watching so many films - that too, on the big screen!!! I started the year with the Pune International Film Festival, seeing three to five films a day, and I was sure that I'd exhausted my year's quota of films by the end of that movie-packed week! Little did I know, that PIFF was just the beginning - have been watching films consistently since then. For a regular movie-buff I still don't see enough - but as I mentioned to a friend yesterday (another one who is constantly horrified at my refusal to watch certain movies and shakes his head sadly at my philistinism in this department) I have probably seen more movies in the past six months, than I have in my entire life! And I'm almost certain that ain't no hyperbole!
Aviator. Black. My Brother Nikihil. Kaal. Parineeta. Sarkar. Dus was the last movie to be added to that increasing list of movies seen this year (which by the way was such a waste - the only good things about the movie were the Theme song and delciously eatable Abhishek! Seriously, if they had to copy a movie, they could atleast do it with more credibility and spend less time on the detailing - Read, ridiculous American accent - in officers of the Anti Terrorist department for chrissake - and fancy wardrobe, not to mention the Honda CRVs!!)
I'm about to add a few more by indulging in a few French films of the Romance genre! Yes it's certainly raining movies!
Pop-Poll :- AB senior is class-apart and that is a well-acknowledged fact, but AB junior is just so much more delicious! He's definitely got his moves right, what say?
And so, for such a person, it's more than a little disconcerting to be suddenly watching so many films - that too, on the big screen!!! I started the year with the Pune International Film Festival, seeing three to five films a day, and I was sure that I'd exhausted my year's quota of films by the end of that movie-packed week! Little did I know, that PIFF was just the beginning - have been watching films consistently since then. For a regular movie-buff I still don't see enough - but as I mentioned to a friend yesterday (another one who is constantly horrified at my refusal to watch certain movies and shakes his head sadly at my philistinism in this department) I have probably seen more movies in the past six months, than I have in my entire life! And I'm almost certain that ain't no hyperbole!
Aviator. Black. My Brother Nikihil. Kaal. Parineeta. Sarkar. Dus was the last movie to be added to that increasing list of movies seen this year (which by the way was such a waste - the only good things about the movie were the Theme song and delciously eatable Abhishek! Seriously, if they had to copy a movie, they could atleast do it with more credibility and spend less time on the detailing - Read, ridiculous American accent - in officers of the Anti Terrorist department for chrissake - and fancy wardrobe, not to mention the Honda CRVs!!)
I'm about to add a few more by indulging in a few French films of the Romance genre! Yes it's certainly raining movies!
Pop-Poll :- AB senior is class-apart and that is a well-acknowledged fact, but AB junior is just so much more delicious! He's definitely got his moves right, what say?
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Blogging From Heaven
On Sunday evening, so aggrieved was I by my pathetic state of health (congestion, palpitation and fever) and so phased out was I by the medication being pumped into me, not to mention the previous night's insomnia, that I rambled away and wrote this completely ridiculous email to my dearest friends - informing them that I am dying and how certain people couldn't care if I die a dog's death, so wrapped up are they in their petty issues! I also vaguely remember leaving similarly asinine comment(s) on others' blog(s) - *rolling my eyes and flushing in embarassment*
Of the friends who rushed to reply promptly was new addition to the 'inner circle' - Titash...I reproduce un-edited his email:-
"Incase you are dead, I hope you are checking your mail from the world beyond life. Being an atheist I cannot subscribe to the heaven-hell theory, but I do strongly cling to the hope that we transform into beings intelligent enough to be able to check emails and live in environments friendly enough to give us free internet access.
"The world beyond life" is perhaps the most politically correct way that an atheist can put it. Come to think of it, an atheist's definition of heaven would be where they gave you sleek laptops with wi-fi internet that was free too. Hell would be a old celeron dabba with a dialup connection where you were charged by the hour for both the net and the phone calls :D
That makes me think, the way you are, the first thing you would do, irrespective of whether you landed in heaven or hell would be to go blog and bitch/praise ur new life. and then there wuld be precisely 12 comments.
9 from your regular bloggers who would go gaga about "gurl you are having soo much fun up there...ooo...you wrote so nicely...aww wat a pity, what a shame you landed up there.....blah blah blah" or some such equally noncomittal nonsensical comment.
1 from Kunu Baba saying that he really misses you and that it was a nice post and gave good idea of how things were with you. 1 more anon from me. 1 anon from mon amour...or rather your amour. (These last two comments you think up cos now I am hungry and planning to end this crap I am writing :P ) "
Such is the concern expressed by those I value the most on pronouncement of my impending death!!!
Of the friends who rushed to reply promptly was new addition to the 'inner circle' - Titash...I reproduce un-edited his email:-
"Incase you are dead, I hope you are checking your mail from the world beyond life. Being an atheist I cannot subscribe to the heaven-hell theory, but I do strongly cling to the hope that we transform into beings intelligent enough to be able to check emails and live in environments friendly enough to give us free internet access.
"The world beyond life" is perhaps the most politically correct way that an atheist can put it. Come to think of it, an atheist's definition of heaven would be where they gave you sleek laptops with wi-fi internet that was free too. Hell would be a old celeron dabba with a dialup connection where you were charged by the hour for both the net and the phone calls :D
That makes me think, the way you are, the first thing you would do, irrespective of whether you landed in heaven or hell would be to go blog and bitch/praise ur new life. and then there wuld be precisely 12 comments.
9 from your regular bloggers who would go gaga about "gurl you are having soo much fun up there...ooo...you wrote so nicely...aww wat a pity, what a shame you landed up there.....blah blah blah" or some such equally noncomittal nonsensical comment.
1 from Kunu Baba saying that he really misses you and that it was a nice post and gave good idea of how things were with you. 1 more anon from me. 1 anon from mon amour...or rather your amour. (These last two comments you think up cos now I am hungry and planning to end this crap I am writing :P ) "
Such is the concern expressed by those I value the most on pronouncement of my impending death!!!
Friday, July 15, 2005
Page 3 Report
Date & Time: 14th July, 2005, 7 p.m
Venue: Le Meridien, Pune
Decor: Decent - Red and Blue sashes, White Balloons
Music & Food: Good - Specially liked the Florentine dish. The Tiramisu was also nice. Just wish they would pass around wine, instead of Khus with Sprite, but I guess that's asking for too much eh? And I definitely can't afford wine at Le Meridien (and my conscience won't allow me to buy it on Daddy's money - good girl, aint I?)
Random Observations:
Venue: Le Meridien, Pune
Decor: Decent - Red and Blue sashes, White Balloons
Music & Food: Good - Specially liked the Florentine dish. The Tiramisu was also nice. Just wish they would pass around wine, instead of Khus with Sprite, but I guess that's asking for too much eh? And I definitely can't afford wine at Le Meridien (and my conscience won't allow me to buy it on Daddy's money - good girl, aint I?)
Random Observations:
- Nothing like an old classic (albeit remixed) to truly set the party in motion - last night it was Madonna's Like a Prayer. She's still the Queen, boss!
- Some people get really enthusiastic and can shed all inhibitions, others (like me) need time to warm up and a gentle nudge (sometimes even alcoholic) to truly let their hair down.
- There is something about the way Black people move - even apparently trained Salsa dancers couldn't shake their booty as well as this Black couple.
- Not everyone who is dressed to kill wants their photograph published on Page 3 of a leading (or not) daily! Some people dress for their own pleasure, not for that of others, nor for publicity! They are the ones who truly rock!
- Some girls can be amazingly inelegant while dancing - the enthusiasm is there, so is the ability to match upto the tempo, but there is simply no grace! I look at them and simply can't find the femininity in their movements.
- Whatever you wear, however skimpy it may be, once you get on the dance-floor, you are bound to sweat! It's worse when you're bald - this one smart, bald gentlemen had rivulets of perspiration running down his scalp within 15 minutes of being on the floor!
- Guys have it easy - they just saunter in wearing jeans and tee-shirts with sneakers. No pre-party stress about what to wear, and no post-party stress of feet that ache from hours of dancing in heels - nor of toes minced under some guy's enthusiastic leap into the air with Summer of '69!
- Hair left open may look sexy, but it is no fun having it stick uncomfortably to your neck and back when you're trying to set the floor on fire! It kinda turns down the excitement of the racing pulse (and a later thought - inhibits him from spontaneously kissing that neck, doesn't it?)...
- Kajra Re (Bunty aur Babli) may be a very happening number, but it's incredibly difficult to groove to it, unless you're really into it and have no problems doing mujra!
So is Kaal (Theme song) unless your form of exercise/weight-loss program is the currently popular pole-dancing aerobics! Or you're willing to indulge in the kind of back-breaking exercise SRK grooves to, in the video! - Once you've imbibed some alcohol, it doesn't matter what country you are from, or whether you understand the lyrics or not - a Frenchie can do the bhangra just as well as any Indian! ;-)
- Last but not the least - Where was the French music? Wasn't this party celebrating La Fête Nationale de la France?
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Let's Swing, Let's Dance...
It's that time of the month when my moods are oscillating like nobody's business - and so it is, that I shift from sheer happiness to depression, from contentment to frustration and from child-like enthusiasm to a lackadaisical response to everything. All these and a myriad more subtle mood shifts have been part of quotidien routine for the past few days!
Today I started the day with enthusiasm - it's 14th July! Ring any bells? Fall of the Bastille? La Marseillaise? French National Day, or as the globe-trotting Akshay pointed out La Fête Nationale! Before you start throwing bricks and bats at me for being snooty traitor and devoid of patriotism, let me rush to add that the enthusiasm is for tonight's soiree, organised by Alliance Francaise de Poona...now that the confusion over what to wear has passed, I'm all set to shake a leg (and more) tonight :-)
Today I started the day with enthusiasm - it's 14th July! Ring any bells? Fall of the Bastille? La Marseillaise? French National Day, or as the globe-trotting Akshay pointed out La Fête Nationale! Before you start throwing bricks and bats at me for being snooty traitor and devoid of patriotism, let me rush to add that the enthusiasm is for tonight's soiree, organised by Alliance Francaise de Poona...now that the confusion over what to wear has passed, I'm all set to shake a leg (and more) tonight :-)
Sunday, July 10, 2005
And So the Oracle Spake...
There used to be a time when any self-respecting person who claimed to be of the logical, analytical school of thought, would scoff at the very notion of believing an astrologer/tarot card reader etc. (This came after years of blind belief in the family astrologer prophesies). These days I find, much to my amazement, an increasing number of people who have the most complete faith in astrologers, and tarot readers (quite the rage these days).
I myself, have always had rather ambivalent feelings about this - my brain geneally refuses to accept that somebody else can look at my hand, make some calculations about stars and planets and tell me how my life is charted. It was always more of fun, than something I truly believed in. That I question how accurate they can be is a different matter. Even accepting that they are accurate for the most part, I wonder if it really helps knowing what's going to happen in the future. If the astrologer says you're going to get what you want, doesn't that make you complacent? Don't you strive less hard and take more risks/liberties, since somewhere at the back of your mind a tiny voice is reminding you of what lies ahead? And if you know that something won't work out the way you want it, doesn't that make you bitter, and make you lose heart even before you started trying?
Meanwhile I find myself in a wierd dilemma - a couple of years back I was kidding around and ended up getting my "future revealed" to me by an uncle who is an astrologer. Now this same uncle has been remarkably accurate about other family members, so despite my ambivalence I couldn't completely dismiss or forget his words. Specially since one of things he spoke about is something that is perhaps the most important thing for me - it's something for which, I've been waiting for a long time. Everytime a friend says it will happen for me and I can only wish their words come true, for I honestly don't know what I'll do if they don't come true. And I can only pray, that the hope that has been kept alive inside me for the past couple of years isn't for nothing...
And I wonder if it woudn't be better if I didn't know? Because then, I would have continued to carry on, and wouldn't be planning things with that one thing in mind (always) and would be prepared for either eventuality...
PS Speaking about prophesies, just can't help but remember the great Oracles and Sophocles' Oedipus and Electra.
I myself, have always had rather ambivalent feelings about this - my brain geneally refuses to accept that somebody else can look at my hand, make some calculations about stars and planets and tell me how my life is charted. It was always more of fun, than something I truly believed in. That I question how accurate they can be is a different matter. Even accepting that they are accurate for the most part, I wonder if it really helps knowing what's going to happen in the future. If the astrologer says you're going to get what you want, doesn't that make you complacent? Don't you strive less hard and take more risks/liberties, since somewhere at the back of your mind a tiny voice is reminding you of what lies ahead? And if you know that something won't work out the way you want it, doesn't that make you bitter, and make you lose heart even before you started trying?
Meanwhile I find myself in a wierd dilemma - a couple of years back I was kidding around and ended up getting my "future revealed" to me by an uncle who is an astrologer. Now this same uncle has been remarkably accurate about other family members, so despite my ambivalence I couldn't completely dismiss or forget his words. Specially since one of things he spoke about is something that is perhaps the most important thing for me - it's something for which, I've been waiting for a long time. Everytime a friend says it will happen for me and I can only wish their words come true, for I honestly don't know what I'll do if they don't come true. And I can only pray, that the hope that has been kept alive inside me for the past couple of years isn't for nothing...
And I wonder if it woudn't be better if I didn't know? Because then, I would have continued to carry on, and wouldn't be planning things with that one thing in mind (always) and would be prepared for either eventuality...
PS Speaking about prophesies, just can't help but remember the great Oracles and Sophocles' Oedipus and Electra.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Of Rendezvous, Pals, Bonhomie and Bombay...
It's always a pleasure to meet friends, but when it comes coupled with a Bombay trip it amounts to sheer undiluted times of fun :-) And so it was this weekend - the trip, was made primarily to meet my childhood friend Mansi, who is down for her annual "India" vacation. That translates into hours and hours of talking, walking around our beloved neighbourhood (irrespective of the rains, muck, traffic congestion et al), shopping and last but not the least being over-fed by Mansi who thinks the weight looks good on me! *Rolling my eyes*
But when do Bombay trips comprise of meeting just one person? How incredibly sedate and soporific! So there was the rendezvous at Mondegar on Friday evening with some Bloggers ( Akshay, Rahul, Phal and moi) and some Blogwhores (Kunal, Aparna and Anurag - who came (un)fashionably late!) - loads of fun, what with shouting over the juke-box din, singing along with favourites, indulging in friendly mud-slinging, spilling beer and wine - generally a lot of bonhomie going around our tiny little table! This was followed by a quick and delicious dinner at Bade Miyaan - ironic that I never went there while I was still in Bombay but finally reach the road-side eaterie famous for its "Bheja-pav" after having moved to Pune! All in all, a wonderful evening that I'd love to repeat some-time soon - rarely am I so chilled out with people I've just met - - - do I hear any "ayes" for an encore?
And then ofcourse I met darling Appu - some more talking and eating - nothing fancy, but it was like the good old times when conversation flowed easily and jibes were taken in good spirit. More happiness...On Sunday Madusa and I dropped in for coffee and conversation at Dr.Bharucha's - our M.A prof. An extremely intelligent and smart lady - I've said this before, but I'll reiterate it - if I can end up even half as intelligent, accomplished and well-read as her, I'll die a content woman!
Picked up some great stuff from Bombay this time - someone was amused that I save up certain shopping for Bombay 'coz the stuff would definitely be available in Pune too, but I'm loath to scour the "market" areas of Pune, when I know just where to go in Bombay for exactly what I want AND in the budget I want! Same reason why I continue to get my hair-cut in Bombay - this way I run no risk for my hair looking like a broom! :-)
Moral of the story - BOMBAY ROCKS
(Yes I am a Bombay-phile; Yes Bombay mere rag-rag mein dodta hai; Yes I'm incorrigible and suffer from the incurable Bombay Disease)
Alas all good things must come to an end - and so did this trip, though with a fitting end. The drive back to Pune was divine, what with all those misty clouds, verdant hills and silvery cascades flowing down the slopes onto the expressway. Soaking it in greedily I allowed my eyes to feast on the brilliant display Nature had set out in front of me even as the wind caressed my cheeks - why would anyone want to travel by A/C bus when this mode enables you to make the most of the awesome drive and weather?
So now I'm back and I really must settle down to some kind of studying routine - sigh.
P.S. Adi and Rahul have swanky new looks on their blogs - I want chic look too! Damn, looks like I'm going to be scouring for templates all over the internet once again!
But when do Bombay trips comprise of meeting just one person? How incredibly sedate and soporific! So there was the rendezvous at Mondegar on Friday evening with some Bloggers ( Akshay, Rahul, Phal and moi) and some Blogwhores (Kunal, Aparna and Anurag - who came (un)fashionably late!) - loads of fun, what with shouting over the juke-box din, singing along with favourites, indulging in friendly mud-slinging, spilling beer and wine - generally a lot of bonhomie going around our tiny little table! This was followed by a quick and delicious dinner at Bade Miyaan - ironic that I never went there while I was still in Bombay but finally reach the road-side eaterie famous for its "Bheja-pav" after having moved to Pune! All in all, a wonderful evening that I'd love to repeat some-time soon - rarely am I so chilled out with people I've just met - - - do I hear any "ayes" for an encore?
And then ofcourse I met darling Appu - some more talking and eating - nothing fancy, but it was like the good old times when conversation flowed easily and jibes were taken in good spirit. More happiness...On Sunday Madusa and I dropped in for coffee and conversation at Dr.Bharucha's - our M.A prof. An extremely intelligent and smart lady - I've said this before, but I'll reiterate it - if I can end up even half as intelligent, accomplished and well-read as her, I'll die a content woman!
Picked up some great stuff from Bombay this time - someone was amused that I save up certain shopping for Bombay 'coz the stuff would definitely be available in Pune too, but I'm loath to scour the "market" areas of Pune, when I know just where to go in Bombay for exactly what I want AND in the budget I want! Same reason why I continue to get my hair-cut in Bombay - this way I run no risk for my hair looking like a broom! :-)
Moral of the story - BOMBAY ROCKS
(Yes I am a Bombay-phile; Yes Bombay mere rag-rag mein dodta hai; Yes I'm incorrigible and suffer from the incurable Bombay Disease)
Alas all good things must come to an end - and so did this trip, though with a fitting end. The drive back to Pune was divine, what with all those misty clouds, verdant hills and silvery cascades flowing down the slopes onto the expressway. Soaking it in greedily I allowed my eyes to feast on the brilliant display Nature had set out in front of me even as the wind caressed my cheeks - why would anyone want to travel by A/C bus when this mode enables you to make the most of the awesome drive and weather?
So now I'm back and I really must settle down to some kind of studying routine - sigh.
P.S. Adi and Rahul have swanky new looks on their blogs - I want chic look too! Damn, looks like I'm going to be scouring for templates all over the internet once again!
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Bookie Geets
For months now I've agonised over my rather apathetic attitude towards reading - I pick a book desultorily and take ages to finish it, if I finish it at all! But in the last few weeks I seem have gradually begun limping back to my old reading habits :-)
Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's (and other stories) was devoured in a jiffy - a delightful, heart-warming read it was a good purchase. Here's my review.
Next I moved on to Samuel Beckett's oeuvres - en Francais! For the uninitiated, Beckett is almost synonymous with the Theatre of the Absurd. His plays deal with human suffering and survival and he is known best for his play Waiting for Godot, which underlined the breakdown of communication and the meaningless of contemporary existence. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1969. It was an ambition of mine to read his work in original (for which I had to reach that level of comprehending French and be at ease with the language) - having achieved that, I think now I want to re-read them in English now ;-) Though I understood what I read, it was kind of tedious! I'd rather read him so I can truly appreciate the genius behind the words (from a man who always tried to subvert words)...
Meanwhile I juggled Beckett with Vikram Seth's Golden Gate, which I'm truly enjoying - thanks Kunal! *Hug* And ofcourse, let me not forget Albert Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus (also of the Absurdist school of thought, and Nobel Laureatte 1957.) The book emphasises the meaningless of life and is, quite honestly, way out of my league. I'm struggling with the work in English - am quite glad I didn't manage to find the original in French, at the AFP bibliotheque!
Refreshed (and modified) Word-Meme - on Demand by Arka :-
Five words I use very often:
Awesome, Epouvantable, Fatiguant (Tired in French), Mindblowing, Duh/Ick
Five words I Like using:-
Ephemeral - Evanescent, Fleeting, Imperceptible, Illusory, Transient,
Erudite - Au courant, Highbrow, Intelligent, Pedantic, Sagacious, Savvy, Scholastic,
Philistine - Boorish, Ignoramus, Uncouth, Unrefined, Vulgar
Prosaic - Banal, Bourgeois Hackneyed, Insipid, Mundane, Monotonous, Vapid
Sublime - Aesthetic, Celestial, Divine, Ethereal, Exalted, Intellectual, Radiant
Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's (and other stories) was devoured in a jiffy - a delightful, heart-warming read it was a good purchase. Here's my review.
Next I moved on to Samuel Beckett's oeuvres - en Francais! For the uninitiated, Beckett is almost synonymous with the Theatre of the Absurd. His plays deal with human suffering and survival and he is known best for his play Waiting for Godot, which underlined the breakdown of communication and the meaningless of contemporary existence. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1969. It was an ambition of mine to read his work in original (for which I had to reach that level of comprehending French and be at ease with the language) - having achieved that, I think now I want to re-read them in English now ;-) Though I understood what I read, it was kind of tedious! I'd rather read him so I can truly appreciate the genius behind the words (from a man who always tried to subvert words)...
Meanwhile I juggled Beckett with Vikram Seth's Golden Gate, which I'm truly enjoying - thanks Kunal! *Hug* And ofcourse, let me not forget Albert Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus (also of the Absurdist school of thought, and Nobel Laureatte 1957.) The book emphasises the meaningless of life and is, quite honestly, way out of my league. I'm struggling with the work in English - am quite glad I didn't manage to find the original in French, at the AFP bibliotheque!
Refreshed (and modified) Word-Meme - on Demand by Arka :-
Five words I use very often:
Awesome, Epouvantable, Fatiguant (Tired in French), Mindblowing, Duh/Ick
Five words I Like using:-
Ephemeral - Evanescent, Fleeting, Imperceptible, Illusory, Transient,
Erudite - Au courant, Highbrow, Intelligent, Pedantic, Sagacious, Savvy, Scholastic,
Philistine - Boorish, Ignoramus, Uncouth, Unrefined, Vulgar
Prosaic - Banal, Bourgeois Hackneyed, Insipid, Mundane, Monotonous, Vapid
Sublime - Aesthetic, Celestial, Divine, Ethereal, Exalted, Intellectual, Radiant
Monday, June 27, 2005
I Ain't Got No Blogger's Block!!!
Last two weeks have been busy - hectic, crazy; eye-opening at times, frustrating at others! Even as I am steadily coming to terms with certain inadequacies in people that appall me and sometimes even leave me with a bad taste in my mouth, I am more and more aware of just how much of a tight-rope balancing act it is, to deal with the different people in this world. There's been plenty of telephonic-catharsis and counselling with my adorable buddies reminding me to gain a grip on my infamous temper and never forget to look at things from the larger perspective...*deep breath* It works, it really does. As does the hope that someday enlightenment will dawn on the deprived ones - ain't I a regular bitch?
Note for the Anonymous reader who tired of my Plain Jane post - no Blogger's Block, just lazy :-) Next time leave an identity tag - I hate addressing people as if they were non-entities and devoid of personality! And last but not the least - thanks for demanding a new post! ;-)
Note for the Anonymous reader who tired of my Plain Jane post - no Blogger's Block, just lazy :-) Next time leave an identity tag - I hate addressing people as if they were non-entities and devoid of personality! And last but not the least - thanks for demanding a new post! ;-)
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Why Plain Jane?
In the last couple of months, several people have posed this question to me : "Why Plain Jane?" I've offered several answers ranging from vague stories to fob them off, to something closer to the real reason. I've spent many an hour thinking about it myself, for I find myself increasingly comfortable with this current nickname of mine, not to mention that I'm loath to change it.
It started off as a cheeky attempt to subvert an old nickname - the tags of Plain Jane and Goody-Two-Shoes were my constant companions in school - and has ended up being so much more. In some ways, it's a jibe at those who dubbed me Plain Jane and refused to see what lay below the surface - but more than that, it's an acceptance of one facet of my personality and a certain contentment with myself. There was a time the nickname pinched and I wanted nothing more than to shake free of it and to prove myself anything but Plain Jane. No longer. I'm quite comfortable wearing this mantle. If what you perceive of me is merely Plain Jane, it's more your loss, than mine. Those who took the trouble to scratch the surface know there's more to me than meets the eye - and for those who don't, allow me to introduce you to Plain Jane. This one won't settle for Bingley ;-)
My Words:-
Duh - Remember Moose from Archies comics?
Sublime - Aesthetic, Divine, Radiant, Ethereal, Celestial, Intellectual, Exalted
Ick - My Personal Expression for Distaste, Ennui, Disgust, Frustration et al ;-)
Epouvantable - Horrible (French)
It started off as a cheeky attempt to subvert an old nickname - the tags of Plain Jane and Goody-Two-Shoes were my constant companions in school - and has ended up being so much more. In some ways, it's a jibe at those who dubbed me Plain Jane and refused to see what lay below the surface - but more than that, it's an acceptance of one facet of my personality and a certain contentment with myself. There was a time the nickname pinched and I wanted nothing more than to shake free of it and to prove myself anything but Plain Jane. No longer. I'm quite comfortable wearing this mantle. If what you perceive of me is merely Plain Jane, it's more your loss, than mine. Those who took the trouble to scratch the surface know there's more to me than meets the eye - and for those who don't, allow me to introduce you to Plain Jane. This one won't settle for Bingley ;-)
My Words:-
Duh - Remember Moose from Archies comics?
Sublime - Aesthetic, Divine, Radiant, Ethereal, Celestial, Intellectual, Exalted
Ick - My Personal Expression for Distaste, Ennui, Disgust, Frustration et al ;-)
Epouvantable - Horrible (French)
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Just the knowledge that a good book is awaiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier. - Kathleen Norris
Books to the ceiling
Books to the sky.
My pile of books
Are a mile high.
How I love them!
How I need them!
I'll have a long beard
By the time I read them.
- Arnold Lobel
Volume of Books owned:-
I'd ideally love to have one of those libraries where there are shelves from ceiling to floor, lined with books - a treasure for anyone who inherits it! ;-) As of now, I am the proud owner of around 350+ books (guessing - since I've never really counted them) and it's growing all the time.
Last Book I Bought:-
I picked up three books last week at Crossword, Sohrab Hall (they need a Bigger Crossword in Pune and an OxfordBookstore too).
1.Breakfast at Tiffany's - Truman Capote
(I've been trying to lay my hands on the movie for a long time so when I saw the book I figured I could atleast read it)
2.A Vindication of the Rights of Woman - Mary Wollstonecraft
(The first feminist manifesto - this along with Beauvoir's Second Sex has been on my reading list for a while now; glad to finally get it! - she, incidentally died giving birth to Mary Shelley of Frankenstein fame...)
3. The Great Fire - Shirley Hazzard
(Short-listed for the Orange Prize 2004)
Last Book I read:-
If this means last book that I finished it would have to be La Nez sur la Vitrine by Abdeldjamel Kader (Francophone writer from Algeria)
One Book I Couldn't Finish:-
Holy shit - going by my god-awgul track record since I've moved to Pune this is a very long list. Been appalled at the number of books I'm leaving unfinished - the last one would be Umberto Eco's Foucault's Pendulum.
Five Books I Cherish:-
*Groan* You mean I have to narrow it down? Ok let's see, in random order, from the top of my head:
1. Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
(For its narration and for filling my childhood with silly romantic notions about sisterhood and friendships and love - not to mention those cozy Christmas dinners, family bonding, skating over frozen lakes, painting in France,....and lots more)
2. Not Without My Daughter - Betty Mahmoody
(For opening my eyes to the horrors that exist for a woman trying to survive in a closed, patriarchal society and to the uncertainty of life. For opening up an entire new genre of books to me. For moving me to tears with its evocative narration.)
3. Sybil - Flora Rheta Schreiber
(For its mind-blowing account of how a person with 16 personalities overcame her schizophrenia and came to terms with the gruesome tortures inflicted on her as a child, which forced her to withdraw from reality and escape into one of her many personalities each time the world got too much for her to handle)
4. Blasphemy &/or My Feudal Lord - Tehmina Durrani
(I lean towards feminist novels - what can I say?)
5. Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
(For its vision of a dystopia, a totalitarian world a la Orwell's 1984 - depicting what could happen if casually held attitudes about women are taken to their logical conclusions. It is warning to the human race, a warning against our excesses, a warning against the increasing use of nuclear warfare and chemical products, a warning against totalitarianism.)
- These are a very random selection of five books that mean alot to me - the list is actually much longer. A couple more are mentioned in the sidebar under "Must Read" though most of them match those I've recommended there! Amedee - Ionesco, Waiting for Godot - Beckett, Doll's House - Ibsen, Equus - Shaffer , Pygmalion - Shaw would be the five plays that have had the maximum impact on me...
Five people I tag:-
Ouch now this a tough one since most people have already done this, so I'll tag Elixir, Deepak, Titash, Paddy, Arka, Wandering Dervish, Anil, Pincushion...oh I seem to have exceeded the number. LOL - it's an interesting meme to fill out - so whoever wants to, please take up the baton!
Friday, June 10, 2005
I wonder...
I usually rely on the much looked-down upon mode of travel in Pune, i.e. PMT buses, to get me across town. The first time I saw one of the PMT buses outside my apartment complex I'd balked at the very idea of stepping into one of them! But necessity, encouraged further by my stubborn refusal to learn how to drive (forget the popular 2-wheeler, so far I've even resisted getting a driver's licence for a car...) ensured that it soon became a part of my regular commute across the city to Alliance Francaise de Poona.
The bus takes a rather circuitous route to its final destination, from where I have to hop into another mode of transport to my final destination, and on its way it passes through the tree-lined avenues of Camp ( just one part of the Cantonment area of Pune). The sunlight filters through the awny cover of the trees on these roads and it usually has a different feel to it - like the pace in this part of town is slower than elsewhere. It's greener, more peaceful, dreamier...The bus crosses some really sprawling bungalows - defense property as well as private property - some of the bungalows are tasteful, some of them have a cozier touch that appeals more, but none hurt the eyes.
For months, as the bus took one more of it's several turns, before it hits M.G road, I used catch a glimpse of this young woman sitting under a tree - she was dressed in a faded old saree, sans a blouse or petticoat and it was painfully obvious that she was in dire straits. She was selling local liquour - a derivative of Nira (which I believe is juice of a Tadgola - both are delicously colling in summers, though I can't say anything about the liquour having never sampled it!). There were always two bottles in front of her - one filled right upto the tightly screwed on cap and the other open - I have a feeling she partook of it during her long dharna under the tree.
I've often wondered if anyone bought the liquour from her or if she consumed it entirely by herself - as I've wondered how she existed if this is her only source of income, and if she has any family, and where she went in the night. Since the past few weeks I've been wondering about that more often, for I no longer see her there - and I wonder if the local authorities had something to do with it, or was it someone/something else that caused her to cease trying to sell her wares by the roadside...
The bus takes a rather circuitous route to its final destination, from where I have to hop into another mode of transport to my final destination, and on its way it passes through the tree-lined avenues of Camp ( just one part of the Cantonment area of Pune). The sunlight filters through the awny cover of the trees on these roads and it usually has a different feel to it - like the pace in this part of town is slower than elsewhere. It's greener, more peaceful, dreamier...The bus crosses some really sprawling bungalows - defense property as well as private property - some of the bungalows are tasteful, some of them have a cozier touch that appeals more, but none hurt the eyes.
For months, as the bus took one more of it's several turns, before it hits M.G road, I used catch a glimpse of this young woman sitting under a tree - she was dressed in a faded old saree, sans a blouse or petticoat and it was painfully obvious that she was in dire straits. She was selling local liquour - a derivative of Nira (which I believe is juice of a Tadgola - both are delicously colling in summers, though I can't say anything about the liquour having never sampled it!). There were always two bottles in front of her - one filled right upto the tightly screwed on cap and the other open - I have a feeling she partook of it during her long dharna under the tree.
I've often wondered if anyone bought the liquour from her or if she consumed it entirely by herself - as I've wondered how she existed if this is her only source of income, and if she has any family, and where she went in the night. Since the past few weeks I've been wondering about that more often, for I no longer see her there - and I wonder if the local authorities had something to do with it, or was it someone/something else that caused her to cease trying to sell her wares by the roadside...
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Dust Thou Art, and Unto Dust Shalt Thou Return
Monday, June 06, 2005
Fleeting Moments...
I've never had any fascination for Handycams; infact I find it quite irksome when people suddenly fish out the gadget and decide to tape you and the way you sit, talk, walk and eat at some party/family function of sorts. But in the last one week or so, I've been wishing we had one - the digicam suddenly isn't enough!
I have been frequently entrusted with the job of looking over my little nephew while he's sleeping, or just about to wake up. I'd heard of how it's difficult to leave 3-4 month old alone because by then they start trying to turn over and tend to topple off from thier cradle/bed...my little nephew is already trying to do that at 3 weeks! If he's even slightly elevated, he pushes himself and tries his best to turn over and see the world on the other side! Anyways that's not what I really want to record - what I want to record is those myriad fleeting expressions that flit across his face in the 15-20 minutes just before he's going to get up. :-)
It's a little like a photo-shoot - he smiles, he frowns, he scowls, he yawns, he pouts; he looks pensive, content, dreamy, upset, sad, happy....not to mention the style in which he sleeps. It's most amusing to see the poses he strikes while sleeping - like watching my brother in miniature form sleeping (my brother can contort himself into the most acrobatic positions while sleeping, but try getting him to do a simple yoga exercise - he's the most unflexible person around!). These few minutes before my nephew wakes up are to me the most precious moments with him - the rest of the time I'm too concerned with practical aspects of taking care of a baby to really fuss over how cute he is!
Have been staying away from him the last couple of days, because I'm scared of infecting him with a cold - Ma had a cold. I was fine till Saturday evening - came back home and within half-an-hour she had passed onto me a full-blown cold. Damn but why do I come down so quick? Anyways I was totally dying yesterday - a friend today asked if I'd will my Mythology book to him, since I am approaching my death bed slowly and surely...it's so true the acid-test of your friendship comes when you're down and out!!! ;-) Muhahaha...
Current Music - Sing by Travis (courtesy VH1 - god bless the Cable-wallah for giving us VH1. I shall no longer have to watch TV at odd hours to catch English songs. He's earned himself some grace by giving us VH1, after taking away TV5 from us!)
Current Reading - Courrier-Sud by Antoine de Saint Exupery (known better for his Le Petit Prince or The Little Prince)
I have been frequently entrusted with the job of looking over my little nephew while he's sleeping, or just about to wake up. I'd heard of how it's difficult to leave 3-4 month old alone because by then they start trying to turn over and tend to topple off from thier cradle/bed...my little nephew is already trying to do that at 3 weeks! If he's even slightly elevated, he pushes himself and tries his best to turn over and see the world on the other side! Anyways that's not what I really want to record - what I want to record is those myriad fleeting expressions that flit across his face in the 15-20 minutes just before he's going to get up. :-)
It's a little like a photo-shoot - he smiles, he frowns, he scowls, he yawns, he pouts; he looks pensive, content, dreamy, upset, sad, happy....not to mention the style in which he sleeps. It's most amusing to see the poses he strikes while sleeping - like watching my brother in miniature form sleeping (my brother can contort himself into the most acrobatic positions while sleeping, but try getting him to do a simple yoga exercise - he's the most unflexible person around!). These few minutes before my nephew wakes up are to me the most precious moments with him - the rest of the time I'm too concerned with practical aspects of taking care of a baby to really fuss over how cute he is!
Have been staying away from him the last couple of days, because I'm scared of infecting him with a cold - Ma had a cold. I was fine till Saturday evening - came back home and within half-an-hour she had passed onto me a full-blown cold. Damn but why do I come down so quick? Anyways I was totally dying yesterday - a friend today asked if I'd will my Mythology book to him, since I am approaching my death bed slowly and surely...it's so true the acid-test of your friendship comes when you're down and out!!! ;-) Muhahaha...
Current Music - Sing by Travis (courtesy VH1 - god bless the Cable-wallah for giving us VH1. I shall no longer have to watch TV at odd hours to catch English songs. He's earned himself some grace by giving us VH1, after taking away TV5 from us!)
Current Reading - Courrier-Sud by Antoine de Saint Exupery (known better for his Le Petit Prince or The Little Prince)
Friday, June 03, 2005
Feeling Good...
Yesterday in class I received a compliment that made me blush - an occassional compliment now and then is more than welcome (it's good for my ego), but when it's accompanied by a full assessment of my personality it can get VERY uncomfortable...the compliment yesterday really took me by surprise, specially since I'd already been gifted with kind words already earlier that day...
Later, I was thinking about it and I realised that I've been feeling good about myself lately and it's obviously reflecting in my demeanour, for I've been much more positive, not to mention 'sociable'...things have finally settled down at home and I've been studying (it never fails to cure me of my maudlin thoughts and my stress) and reading.
Initially when I started getting up at 6 am with the cries of my little nephew demanding milk, I'd wake up disgruntled and irritable, but gradually I've fallen back on my old habits of waking up early and have gone back to finding it refreshing...sure I can still sleep merrily till 9 am (and I did that just yesterday) but when I wake up early, I profit from the calm coolness of the morning and indulge in some yoga and rumination while gazing down from the balcony at those playing tennis in the tennis court.
Now if only some things would stop affecting me so much....
Music of the moment :- Guantanamera - Joe Dassin. There are several versions of this song, but it was originally composed by Jose Fernandez Diaz - it's obviously in Spanish and is beautifully melodious and touches the soul, even if you don't understand the words. I've been hearing it since I was a child, and downloaded Dassin's version only a couple of years back. Dassin's version is in French ;-) - goes without saying doesn't it? Another Spanish classic I love is Hasta Manana - ABBA has done a version, but this is one time I'd prefer the Spanish version over ABBA!
Later, I was thinking about it and I realised that I've been feeling good about myself lately and it's obviously reflecting in my demeanour, for I've been much more positive, not to mention 'sociable'...things have finally settled down at home and I've been studying (it never fails to cure me of my maudlin thoughts and my stress) and reading.
Initially when I started getting up at 6 am with the cries of my little nephew demanding milk, I'd wake up disgruntled and irritable, but gradually I've fallen back on my old habits of waking up early and have gone back to finding it refreshing...sure I can still sleep merrily till 9 am (and I did that just yesterday) but when I wake up early, I profit from the calm coolness of the morning and indulge in some yoga and rumination while gazing down from the balcony at those playing tennis in the tennis court.
Now if only some things would stop affecting me so much....
Music of the moment :- Guantanamera - Joe Dassin. There are several versions of this song, but it was originally composed by Jose Fernandez Diaz - it's obviously in Spanish and is beautifully melodious and touches the soul, even if you don't understand the words. I've been hearing it since I was a child, and downloaded Dassin's version only a couple of years back. Dassin's version is in French ;-) - goes without saying doesn't it? Another Spanish classic I love is Hasta Manana - ABBA has done a version, but this is one time I'd prefer the Spanish version over ABBA!
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Taking it Easy...
Did I ever mention that I rock? Like totally? ;-)
The sudden burst of star-spangle and sunshine on the blog, is due to my current feeling of elation that the presentation was a success - well atleast, the response was good. Sure, we swallowed up 75% of the class and still haven't finished (I'm gonna take a big bite out of the next class, since I still have to cover around 10 years) but nobody fell asleep. De plus le directeur semblait content - now that is an achievement, 'coz he is like so drab and boring he rarely ever says anything encouraging or nice. Gawd - he needs to develop a sense of humour and get a life! (Ok stop being bitchy Geets - remember - Director? Like head of AFP right now?)
Plenty more reasons to be happy, one of them being the sudden (albeit welcome) change in weather. Pune experienced pre-monsoon showers on Sunday evening...it started off with a wind-storm on Saturday evening, which wasn't too nice. Everything in my room was covered with a fine layer of dust - and I had to spend a long time gettng the dust out of my books. Ick. But the showers on Sunday and Monday have made the weather so incredibly nice! I was full of regret on Sunday evening, when I was sitting with my nose buried in L'Histoire de la France, with the furious intent of finishing the second draft for my presentation before I slept, so I was ready to discuss it with my friend the next morning...it most definitely wasn't the weather to be slogging one's ass off, that too on a weekend! Like I do have a life...glad that little sacrifice paid off. Ofcourse ideally speaking, in Utopic terms I'd love to indulge in my favourite rainy day activities - settle down with a cuppa steaming hot coffee (or even nice hot soup) with an engrossing read and some of my favourite music playing in the background. Perhaps Shakti...or Prem Joshua or Shiv Kumar Sharma. And if it's a regular storm a la Bombay rains, then it has to be a heavy dose of percussion, rock or 80s pop to beat in tune with the rain pattering on my window panes...alternate activities - movie with friends, lotsa wine and good conversation after or ofcourse any of the option I'd mentioned in Naughty Ideas ;-)
Rains in Pune generally means terrible roads and lots of trees falling down - which happened. I'm dreading the total degradation of the roads in the area I stay in - last year when we shifted here in June, we were horrified at the complete non-existence of roads in the area...freaking hell, even the incredibly posh Koregaon has terrible roads...(the abysmal lack of drains just turns the whole locality into one mucky stretch of potholes) - heheh, waiting to hear what Kunu baba has to say about this, specially since he's promised to visit soon! Remember last year baccha, when we walked down from Arthur's Theme to the Barista in Lane 1 and later bargained with rickshaw-wallas to take us back home? :-)
Currently listening to some really awesome music, on borrowed headphones...we used to have this awesome set of speakers to drool over, but they got screwed up soon after we came to this hamlet and they just never came back from Bombay where my brother sent them to get repaired...so I ad a set of decent headphones I'd picked up in Germany, but my brother misplaced them at his previous office (read donated them to those losers) - and so here I was, sweet little innocent Geets unable to access her MP3s, leading a dry existence, deprived of the nectar of life, Music. Well that has changed since yesterday and I shall ensure I have new headphones soon. Meanwhile Julien Clerc makes me swing to the story of Melissa Metisse d'Ibiza :-) Sing along people -
"Mélissa, métisse d'Ibiza
Vit toujours dévêtue
Dites jamais que je vous ai dit ça
Ou Mélissa me tue..."
(Melissa, mistress of Ibiza,
She's always disrobed,
Don't ever say that I told you so,
Or Melissa will kill me..."
:-)
Next on my Windows Media Player :- To be with you - Mr Big. It's one of my favourite songs - each time I hear it I"m immediately transported back to the early 90s, when cable TV had just started invading our lives and chaddi-pal Mansi and I thrived on MTV. She's coming down to Bombay soon - the countdown has already begun...so much to do this time I hit Bombay. Been the longest time since I was in my beloved Bombay...
The sudden burst of star-spangle and sunshine on the blog, is due to my current feeling of elation that the presentation was a success - well atleast, the response was good. Sure, we swallowed up 75% of the class and still haven't finished (I'm gonna take a big bite out of the next class, since I still have to cover around 10 years) but nobody fell asleep. De plus le directeur semblait content - now that is an achievement, 'coz he is like so drab and boring he rarely ever says anything encouraging or nice. Gawd - he needs to develop a sense of humour and get a life! (Ok stop being bitchy Geets - remember - Director? Like head of AFP right now?)
Plenty more reasons to be happy, one of them being the sudden (albeit welcome) change in weather. Pune experienced pre-monsoon showers on Sunday evening...it started off with a wind-storm on Saturday evening, which wasn't too nice. Everything in my room was covered with a fine layer of dust - and I had to spend a long time gettng the dust out of my books. Ick. But the showers on Sunday and Monday have made the weather so incredibly nice! I was full of regret on Sunday evening, when I was sitting with my nose buried in L'Histoire de la France, with the furious intent of finishing the second draft for my presentation before I slept, so I was ready to discuss it with my friend the next morning...it most definitely wasn't the weather to be slogging one's ass off, that too on a weekend! Like I do have a life...glad that little sacrifice paid off. Ofcourse ideally speaking, in Utopic terms I'd love to indulge in my favourite rainy day activities - settle down with a cuppa steaming hot coffee (or even nice hot soup) with an engrossing read and some of my favourite music playing in the background. Perhaps Shakti...or Prem Joshua or Shiv Kumar Sharma. And if it's a regular storm a la Bombay rains, then it has to be a heavy dose of percussion, rock or 80s pop to beat in tune with the rain pattering on my window panes...alternate activities - movie with friends, lotsa wine and good conversation after or ofcourse any of the option I'd mentioned in Naughty Ideas ;-)
Rains in Pune generally means terrible roads and lots of trees falling down - which happened. I'm dreading the total degradation of the roads in the area I stay in - last year when we shifted here in June, we were horrified at the complete non-existence of roads in the area...freaking hell, even the incredibly posh Koregaon has terrible roads...(the abysmal lack of drains just turns the whole locality into one mucky stretch of potholes) - heheh, waiting to hear what Kunu baba has to say about this, specially since he's promised to visit soon! Remember last year baccha, when we walked down from Arthur's Theme to the Barista in Lane 1 and later bargained with rickshaw-wallas to take us back home? :-)
Currently listening to some really awesome music, on borrowed headphones...we used to have this awesome set of speakers to drool over, but they got screwed up soon after we came to this hamlet and they just never came back from Bombay where my brother sent them to get repaired...so I ad a set of decent headphones I'd picked up in Germany, but my brother misplaced them at his previous office (read donated them to those losers) - and so here I was, sweet little innocent Geets unable to access her MP3s, leading a dry existence, deprived of the nectar of life, Music. Well that has changed since yesterday and I shall ensure I have new headphones soon. Meanwhile Julien Clerc makes me swing to the story of Melissa Metisse d'Ibiza :-) Sing along people -
"Mélissa, métisse d'Ibiza
Vit toujours dévêtue
Dites jamais que je vous ai dit ça
Ou Mélissa me tue..."
(Melissa, mistress of Ibiza,
She's always disrobed,
Don't ever say that I told you so,
Or Melissa will kill me..."
:-)
Next on my Windows Media Player :- To be with you - Mr Big. It's one of my favourite songs - each time I hear it I"m immediately transported back to the early 90s, when cable TV had just started invading our lives and chaddi-pal Mansi and I thrived on MTV. She's coming down to Bombay soon - the countdown has already begun...so much to do this time I hit Bombay. Been the longest time since I was in my beloved Bombay...
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Geebaby Gets a Makeover!!!
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?
Finally settled for this template - not really MY colours, but it works for me.
So what think?
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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